#i'm totally not writing from personal experience.........................

[drdemonprince]

I keep seeing the posts about male socialization and idk it makes me feel weird because I identify as transfem and I *do* believe I had male socialization. I find it easier to identify with and understand male groups and to feel involved in the while I feel less at ease understanding how women feel and think even though my personal view of myself leans more towards a feminine identity. All these posts make me doubt that I am truly "transfem" and that even if I am, that I am fundamentally transfem in a different way than most other transfems I run into. Is there any sources or writing out there that either provides a counter-perspective or at the very least points to nuance on this subject from a transfem lens? I wish I didn't feel so alone with these feelings.

Your feelings and experience do not make you any less legitimate as a transfeminine person. A lot of trans women rightfully and understandably need to counteract the notion that they're oppressive privileged males or whatever by asserting, as clearly as they can, the many ways in which their socialization was a female socialization, with all the double-standards, demanded emotional labor, sexual predation, etc that entails -- but the very need to assert these things is due to the culture's twisted misconceptions about what gender even is and how it operates.

It's not as though a young person only gets the socialization of the binary gender to which they were assigned -- they get mandatory cishet socialization, and they see what is expected of the "other" gender, and that impacts them, and the standards for that other gender also influence how they are interpreted and seen.

And so I do think, to a certain extent, that when trans people assert that we actually didn't get socialized as our assigned gender at birth, we got socialized as the correct gender, actually, we are unfortunately ceding ground to the transphobes on a couple of key points. One, we're conceeding that there is a singular binary socialization that the two genders each get, which are separate from one another and always exhibit specific features, and two, that a person's socialization as a young person is a key determinant of their gendered experience, privilege, and identity forever, no matter what happens after they are young.

And you know, both those things are totally wrong. There is no one female socialization. I've written about this before, but I wasn't raised to be feminine. I was raised the way working-class girls are raised, which is to be no-nonsense, unfrivolous, serious, sporty, and capable -- a wife and mother, but the kind that never wears a skirt or cries in front of people. And there is no singular "male" socialization either -- I cite a few trans femme people in this piece who experienced themselves as having some male privilege before they transitioned, and some more typically "male" experiences, while also quoting a number of trans women whose lives went the exact opposite way. I assert in the piece that their experiences are theirs to name, and that there's a number of different ways we might each understand and categorize them personally -- especially when we take into account how much gendered socialization is dependent upon class, race, immigration status, diasporic status, and much more.

My view is that however you think your live played out, and whoever you find community alongside, you're right. I'm about to answer a similar ask about this from a trans masc perspective, but I'm a guy who has a ton of women friends and always have. I grew up mostly with girls as my closest buddies and we did things like playing pretend and having slumber parties and doing makeovers. I could chalk this up as a "female socialization" experience I guess if I wanted to. But I also grew up with a lot of gay boys, and I am a gay man, and guess what -- a lot of us grow up with predominately female friends. I don't think I have some essential feminine quality because my friends kept insisting on putting eyeshadow on me when I was ten. The fact I was bad at sports and couldn't be the tough, no-nonsense person that my culture expected me to be was gonna affect me whether I was a boy or a girl. And my upbringing was significantly different from that of one of my very best, oldest friends, whose family owned a successful business and were able to buy her a car and a horse and shit.

You're not betraying anything or lessening your own transfemininity by resonating with some typically "male" experiences or for having close male connections. Lots of queer women do! Just like I have plenty in common with lots of women! We don't say that cis women aren't women because they grew up tomboys, or had a ton of brothers, and the same is true of you. Even if you don't think of your younger self as "a tomboy" or even as a girl. You don't have to ascribe to the narrative that you were always one gender and always moved through the world with that identity. To demand that all trans people do so is respectability politics -- we cannot and should not require that all people be trans in the same ways. I have written before that transition to me feels at once both pre-ordained AND a choice that I made. You can say that you lived as a boy for some years or were a boy if that feels right to you, or that you had certain privileges while also suffering from dysphoria and disconnection; it's your life and you know it best and what serves you.

I wish I had narratives from trans women writers to direct you to, but for the most part the trans women who I've heard express feelings like yours have been in the support and discussion groups I've been in, and in private conversation -- I think because the socialization experiences of trans femmes are so unfairly politicized. I hope if any trans femme people see this have anything to share or any words to say that they will!

[novankenn]

(Artwork created/owned by @pilot-boi, No rights Claimed/Implied by the author of this story)

The TA -- Joan(Jaune) Arc

Joan(Jaune) stood in Beacon's courtyard, totally not overwhelmed by the number of students. Her mother had decided Joan(Jaune) needed to get some real world experiences so after discussing (threatening) her sister Glynda Goodwitch, Joan(Jaune) found herself assigned to work as a TA for her aunt and some of the other professors.

Joan(Jaune) was thinking it was a mistake, and she should sneak off and go hang with Saphron and Terra in Argus. Like seriously! Everyone! Literally everyone was walking around with weapons! There were swords, spears, knives, guns of every type, even a scythe! That's a farming tool! Next she'll see someone with a shovel or a rake!

"Of course I would." Joan(Jaune) deadpanned as two students just walked past her with those exact lawn and garden tools balanced on against their shoulders.

An explosion behind her caused Joan(Jaune) to shriek and jump backwards. Causing her to bounce off someone.

"Watch it dude!" came the gruff voice, as the young man just kept walking. Joan(Jaune) sighed. Looking around again for her Auntie, she noticed the girl with a red cap, still laying in a small crater. Seeing no one offering a hand, Joan(Jaune) did the right thing and walked over.

"Welcome to Beacon." the capped girl muttered.

"Need a hand?" Joan(Jaune) asked, while offering her hand to assist.

"Thanks?" the girl replied. Once she was once again vertical, she looked at Joan(Jaune) with her silver eyes. "I'm Ruby Rose."

"Joan(Jaune) Arc." and instantly she growled, as Ruby was giggling at her name. Joan(Jaune) knew exactly why, and was waiting for the question to be asked for the millionth time.

"Joan? Isn't that girl's name?"

"Yes, it is, and before you say anything else... I am a girl." Joan(Jaune) was annoyed, while all her sisters hit the jackpot with in the family gene pool, Joan(Jaune) seemed to have drawn the short straw. What truly baffled her was how NO ONE could tell she was a girl just from the sound of her voice!

"Really?" Ruby tilted her head and squinted, before nodding. "Yep, sorry about that. I see it now."

Joan(Jaune) just deadpanned. She should have gone to Argus. Terra could have gotten her an internship at the CCT.

"Do you want to see my baby?" Ruby beamed as she pulled some weird boxy contraption from under her cap.

"Is that a weapon of some kind?" Joan(Jaune) asked taking a step back.

"Yep!"

"Maybe later?"

"Aw. Phooey."

"Sorry, but I'll take a rain check." Joan(Jaune) offered, "It's just I need to find my Aunt. I'm working here with her for a term."

"Working? You mean you're not a huntsm... huntress-in-training?"

"No."

"Seriously?"

"Yes."

"Huh." Ruby started to fidget. "Um..."

"Yes?"

"Do you know where the auditorium is? I was supposed to head there until I ran into that meanie... which wouldn't have happened if my stupid boob-zilla sister hadn't run off!"

"Sure." Joan(Jaune) smiled warmly. Ruby seemed like a nice person, so why not give her a helping hand. It's not like she's some weapon obsessed gothic loli. Paused and gave Ruby a once over and then shrugged. "Already said I will, can't back out now."

"Did you say something?"

"Just talking to myself."

"Oh. Do you do that often?" Ruby froze, and started to stammer, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! I'm not judging< I swear!"

"Ruby... it's okay. It's okay."

"You not just saying that are you? I mean I would totally understand if you were, considering..."

"RUBY!" Joan(Jaune) shouted to get the red caped gothic loli to focus. "You didn't do anything to be so worked up about. Okay?"

"Okay, I..."

"No."

"No?"

"Do not say I guess." Joan(Jaune) sighed. "There is no middle ground here. You are either okay or your not. So are you okay?"

"Yes!"

"Good, now let's get to the auditorium."

(A/N - I have no idea what it is... but I see these pictures/drawings... and just have a NEED to write something for them. I think I have issues. None of the above is cannon to what ever AU this image is associated with.)

Have you ever drawn rule 63 Jaune?

Not sure, but here she is

Honestly in my style she looks almost exactly the same as normal lol

[neerathebrightstar]

"i'm going to thirst in the comments later" oh my god please do i genuinely love reading your rants in the comments, they're so entertaining 😭

YOU SENT ME AN ASK?! OH MY GOD AN ASK FROM MY FAVOURITE WRITER ON TUMBLR ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Anywayyyyyy

First of all the way you write batfam in general makes me feel so mamy things. You write feeling and internal monologues so well, and it’s quite obvious you write from experience, your heart. It makes me think that you could pull of abo type of fic cause I can see you write a god tier pack dynamic. You set the tone in your works not with dialogues but with descriptions and it’s so pretty and refreshing.

But regarding the work i promised to rant about : I love your platonic yanderes but the romantic freaks make me so horny oh my god.

Bruce felt a lot like a creepy rich guy that is not creepy enough to think to much of it aside from the fact y/n probably thought he is so rich he doesn’t understand how poorer people live their lives. He is weird but you won’t fear him until you learn he has a few screws loose but it will be to late by then.

I loved that he genuinely thought of himself and his soon to be spouse as one person, united in everything.

It is a huge part of his character that bruce will do anything for people he loves but Gotham will always be the most important to him so when he sees himself doing this mission to protect his partner you know there is nothing that matters more than them, not even batman.

I aleo totally see him as being a stalker that watches you as you sleep and is pathetic enough to come bloody to you and lick your unmoving lips and call it love.

I need to see you write more of him being a total simp. Batdad is like drugs but a supposed gomez and morticia type of dynamic (at least from bruce’s perspective lmao) will ascend me to another dimension.

I love you and take care of yourself 😽❤️

[girlwarlock]

i wish there was some kind of @ mutuals thing to tag all my mutuals at once. would have been a cool thing to see on the social blogging website. ah, well, missed opportunities.

anyway, with the whole "we're basically giving up on this website and gutting the moderation/support team" thingy going around i'm going to be pursuing a dual strategy of "drive it until the wheels fall off" and "start looking for a new car in the meantime" and in that vein I sent a handful of mutuals a post about a potential alternative before i realized that i'm not sure that alternative is currently accepting new users. hmm.

anyway, i'm gonna mention most if not all my mutuals here on a reblog and if we're mutuals and you'd like to prepare for tunglr going down (eventually, someday, in an indeterminate but visible future), send me a message or an off-anon ask or whatever and I'll give you my discord handle and maybe if you're interested also some information about an alternative that i know you can join right now, although the join rate is throttled so it wouldn't be everyone all at once

yeah post now

[ilgaksu]

just a reminder that in my ao3 profile i state my personal requests for engaging with my fic, including remixes or works heavily inspired by mine. i want to be clear that this is deeply important to me and i hope you can treat me, as a creator, and my wishes with the respect you show to the work. when people don't, i get it may be unintentional but it's deeply painful and for me right now, it's establish this boundary as clearly and loudly as possible or remove my work/stop my current writing.

[featureenvyproductions]

"Why does everything need to be Gay now it's so shallow to make men attracted to each other when they could be Pure Platonic Friends -"

oops sorry I can't hear you over the sound of me Doing What I Want Forever because I have been watching movies, TV, and animation since the 80s and have watched enough shallow heterosexual romances that would have been stronger as mlm-wlw solidarity friendships to fill the space between stars in a galaxy

[cyanide-latte]

Hi! Quick question about writing:

How do you stay confident about your writing? I’m working on something rn but I’m afraid it isn’t going to live up to people’s hopes for it.

Thanks! Have a slipper lobster, because you’re cool;

Hey, hi Ace, I apologize that it's taken me a bit of time to reply to this. I really wanted to think about my answer before just diving right in.

Please feel free to take this with a heavy grain of salt, because while I love talking about the writing experience with friends and mutuals, everyone's mileage may vary when it comes to different advice. And I say that partly because I know that my confidence in my writing shouldn't be measured by the same scale as anyone else's, and I do think that goes for everyone.

Please feel free to correct me if I'm interpreting your question and explanation the wrong way, but it does sound like you're worried that your project isn't going to live up to the expectations your potential audience is starting to have, either in terms of writing quality or the directions the story may take or the themes and tropes and ideas you choose to include. That somehow in one or more of these avenues, you may fall short and disappoint your readers. Again I could be way off the mark and please feel free to correct me, but I do get that feeling. It's daunting and can be hell to grapple with, especially if you yourself are excited and passionate about the project. That's your baby, your work, and you want it to be appreciated by those excited for it.

I have a few different thoughts here, so I apologize if this kind of goes all over the place.

Quality of writing is a skill that can be developed, especially with time, dedication and practice. Having natural talent with it can help, sure, but it's a skill that can be worked at. Quality of storytelling, I think, is a different matter and it can be easy to misconstrue the two, especially because there's a degree of overlap when writing fiction. Your particular voice and ease as a storyteller is going to be unique to you, and I do think it's also a craft to be honed, but that it starts with your own sincerity and passion. It's fairly common advice I see reminders of, "only you can tell this story your way", but I think a lot of implementing that comes from reminding yourself you love and and are passionate about the project, and also reminding yourself that the advice can be quite literal.

When we write, we bring our own experiences into that writing, however consciously or unconsciously. We may not be our experiences, but those things shape us, sometimes more deeply than we realize and that can show up in the tiniest of ways at times. And this is just personal speculation on my part, but I think that's a big part of why there can be so many similar stories that aren't the same. It isn't just that there are different people writing it, but that your particular amalgamation of experiences and how they've shaped you and your way of thinking and how you approach a story you want to tell isn't going to be like anyone else's. And when you pour yourself into that, when your sincerity shines through in your writing, I think people can tell. We're drawn to that kind of writing.

(that's definitely one part of why I hold such disdain for AI writing. Someone may have a cool concept but if you feed it into AI to make the AI write your concept for you, there's no sincerity. There's no heart in that. There's no soul in it. Because there's not truly that person in it.)

That's something I often have to remind myself of, when I find myself wondering whether anyone is going to like a project once I have begun writing and sharing it. Everything I've experienced shapes my thoughts, my opinions, my speculations, and in turn that shapes how I approach a story idea and the themes I choose to tackle and the tropes I want to incorporate and how I'm going to weave all those things together.

Sometimes that's still a little daunting, even if the reminder helps. People who don't know me and haven't read my writing before but are interested in a concept I have are the easiest possible people to disappoint. They don't know what they're getting into with me and I can't read their mind to guess at their expectations or what I'm going to make, and that's honestly okay with me. It's not really any different from buying a book at store based on the fact I may have been intrigued by its summary; there's always a chance that my expectations are going to be let down and I won't like it. So it goes, yeah?

Disappointing a reader hurts the worst, I think, when you both know each other somewhat and you have hopes that maybe they'll love your ideas both in concept and execution. Maybe they're a mutual acquaintance who you get along with well, maybe they're a friend. There's a higher degree of trust and hope there, when you hand them what you wrote and ask them to read. You both have a chance of coming out of that let down and disappointed, and you as the writer can feel especially hurt. Maybe they didn't like your writing style (in which case, that could just be a personal preference thing on their part and you can't do much about it. It sucks but it's probably best to go your separate ways in that case.) Maybe you thought you knew they'd like it, maybe they even thought they would and set up the expectation but they ended up not liking it for some reason or another. I actually experience anxiety over that quite a bit when it comes to my mutuals and friends here on Tumblr, because I'm nervous about how something will be received when I finally post a bit of writing I really have wanted to make.

I think the thing that carries me then, aside from reminding myself "nobody else can tell this exact story the way I can", is taking the time to sit down and remind myself that no matter what happens, I'm going to find my audience.

To some degree I do say you are always your own audience; write for yourself, yes. But you share your writing in hopes someone else is going to love what you made. (If you make a cake you like and take it to a party to share with others, yes you made a cake you like, but you want to see at least someone else enjoy that cake too. After all, you worked hard on it and were happy about it!) Write for your own joy, share for the delight and validation from others, I've seen people say. And there's always going to be an audience outside of yourself. Maybe it's not always the people you hoped for or expected from the start, maybe it takes a while before your work finds its audience, but there's always going to be someone who reads your writing and clicks with it and loves it.

Again, my apologies if this is rambly.

And I know that there's a good chance this might not be the advice that can help you (and I really hope that if it isn't, that there's better advice out there somewhere that finds you ASAP.) But I do think reminding yourself that you're always going to find your audience is important, as well as being genuine and remembering that nobody is going to write your story the way you will. Nobody else in the world has your experiences and has had them shape you and the way you view the world and the ideas you have in the same way. But there's always going to be someone who reads your writing and loves it for that exact reason.

[outeremissary]

You know I spent a lot of time reading Nuzlocke comics and fics as a teen and I think that really shaped my understanding of approaches to canon in fandom. Like there's fandom you're doing straight and trying to be faithful to the material on, and then there's fandom like a lot of the Good Stuff on Nuzlockes and wacked out chess AUs where you're somewhere on the sliding scale of remixes from "playing fast and loose with the base material" to "reality is whatever makes the story fun. heart." And they're both valid. God I fucking love how insane Nuzlocke comics could get.

[niningtori]

an iron man | oneshot

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

summary: beomgyu has only ever known how to live function as a rental sexbot. he fucks whoever and whatever comes his way with a forced smile plastered on his face. that is, until you, a self-proclaimed trainwreck, come along.

genre: android!au, sexbot!au, angst, romance, fluff (more than i ever thought i could ever write i fear...), skippable smut at the very end (will be marked)

warnings: very brief and vague mentions of beomgyu being forced to engage in sexual acts he does not want with previous clients, skippable smut at the very end (will be marked)

smut warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming, praise, dacryphilia, sub!gyu

word count: 14.7k (trust i will not be writing this much again if this flops BWNWJSJEJDK)

notes: terrified to post this one because this is probably my favorite thing i've ever written and if it gets a bad reaction i might die :,) also very unsure if this is the best time to post it since it's during kinktober so i'm not sure if the demand is there but i love this work so so much i pray you all like it. if you don't read anything else from me, i hope that you read this bc i rlly care ab it :,) please don't be mean i beg

beomgyu doesn’t know how long he’s been living like this. living is an odd term, too, and it’s not just because “life” is ill-defined for an android, but because to call what he experiences a life feels like a bastardization of the term. his power is turned on at some point, usually late at night, he fucks or gets fucked by somebody he probably doesn’t know, then he does the same shit all over again. so yes, he may be “alive”, but he wouldn't dare to call what he experiences living. living is too precious of a term to be used so cheaply on a sex android who’s made available for rent for the highest bidder of the night.

he’s seen how people live through his scattered vignettes of human life. he only gets them when he’s powered on, but he soaks them up with pleasure because they’re the only thing he’s ever known. some people do it wildly, living unattached to everyone and everything. their lives are not completely dissimilar to his, in a way, except they have a choice in the matter. they have time to find themselves, what their likes and dislikes are, and they get to connect with people in a way he will never have the power to. others, though, live the kind of life he really wants. they live by loving and being loved, knowing and being known. he wonders what it’d be like to know somebody outside of whatever secret deviant sexual pleasures they have. he wonders what it’s like to be known, too, but he guesses you would need to have something for someone to care enough to know about in the first place. he has no such thing.

it’s a night like any other when he’s powered on by a total stranger. he briefly takes in his surroundings and notices that it’s a really nice place, but you wouldn’t be the first rich person to rent him — not by a longshot. next, he takes you in. now, there’s no reason for you to dress up, really. you have no need to tempt him, as he will be able to feign attraction no matter what you look like, but he still finds it odd that you seem to have forgone any effort to appeal to him, if only because most people’s fantasies require them to look and feel sexy; but you don’t look sexy at all. you look like you’ve just gotten home from a long day at work, and honestly? you kind of smell like it, too.

“do you think you could do the dishes for me? i’m exhausted,” you ask with a perfectly-timed yawn. what… ?

he short-circuits for a moment as he tries to think of an appropriate response. he’s never had anyone try to get him to do chores for them, but maybe this is some sort of weird roleplay? maybe you want him to act as a house husband for you before doing the deed, which isn’t necessarily a problem since he’s well-versed in acting, but there’s just one issue.

“i don’t know how,” he tells you honestly.

“you don’t know how to do dishes?” you ask curiously, 

“it’s not in my programming,” he replies. if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he’s embarrassed because of the way he hesitates and looks away from you when he says it. he can’t possibly feel that, though, so it must just be your imagination.

“oh… that’s alright. okay, do you know how to clean a room? mine’s kind of dirty,” you try. 

“n-no,” he says, and he wishes the earth would just swallow him whole. he’s never failed at living up to expectations, and never so badly, at that. just what kind of fetish is this? 

“that’s okay,” you sigh, and he may not fully understand it, but he can sense your disappointment. “well, what can you do?” and the question is not asked maliciously, but with what seems to be genuine wonder. ah. he knows how to answer this one. slowly, he walks up to you and loosens your hair. you look up at him in shock, but he just cups your face, swiping his thumb across your lower lip. 

“i can do whatever you want me to, baby,” he whispers alluringly. “just tell me how you like it.” you’re so stunned at his switch in demeanor that you forget how to speak for a moment, but you quickly recollect yourself and pry his hands off of you.

“i don’t want you to do anything,” you insist. “i’m just tired. if you can’t help me clean, that’s alright. you can watch something if you’re bored. i think that’s it. well, goodnight.” beomgyu is malfunctioning at the moment. he thinks the gears in his head might be sparking while he tries to understand this new development. you don’t give him time to process it, though. you just slam your bedroom door shut behind you. he thinks he hears you lock it, too.

genuinely at a loss at the thought that he has nothing and no one to do, he sits himself on your couch. he tries not to make himself too at home at first, just barely making a dent on it and scooting to the very edge of the cushion as to not appear to be too relaxed. what if this is some sort of test? what if you’re actually going to come out soon so you two can fuck? until then, what should he do next? thoughts like this plague him until he accepts the fact that you are actually sleeping. your obnoxiously loud snoring is a dead giveaway, and he finally, finally feels brave enough to fiddle with your remote control. 

he scrolls for something to watch. movies and shows have been on as background noise during sex before, so he’s somewhat familiar with them, but he’s never gotten the opportunity to pick for himself or actually pay attention to what's happening on screen. he settles on a romantic movie about a robot who joins human society. the robot falls in love with a human girl, but in the end, the robot has to leave the girl because the town won’t accept him, even after using him. she marries a human man and has children, and eventually grandchildren, too. she still loves the robot even though he’s gone, which he thinks is supposed to make him feel sorry for her, but all he can feel is pity for the robot, who spends the rest of his life alone. 

it’s enough to make him cry, which he shouldn’t be able to do in a non-sexual setting, but he does it, anyway. it’s just so unfair to him. the girl is able to live a normal life while the robot is doomed to be alone forever. why? because he was born different? it’s not his fault that he was invented, but he spends the rest of his time on earth paying for the crime of existing in a world not built for him. the more beomgyu thinks about it, the more wronged he feels. he’s outright sobbing by the time you plop down on the couch beside him. he jumps up and straightens his posture while trying in vain to regain his composure.

“yeah, this movie makes me cry, too,” you quietly remark. he’s silent, not because he didn’t hear what you said, but because he genuinely doesn’t know how to act after being caught red handed.

“can i ask you something?” you ask in lieu of his lack of a response.

“yes,” he feebly answers.

“why are you crying?” you question with a tilt of your head, but something in him tells him that you already know.

“because the movie made me sad,” he admits after a pause.

“are androids supposed to feel things like that?” 

“... no,” he replies after a pause. 

“then why can you?” 

“i… i don't know. just please don’t say anything to my owners,” he pleads. he knows that if the company that owns him were to find out about this, he’d be scrapped in a heartbeat. or worse, they’d analyze him like a labrat to try to find the anomaly within him. his “life” as a sexbot will be over, and he’d really rather be a box of scraps than live as a case study in a lab somewhere. 

“it’s okay,” you tell him with a reassuring smile as you watch him trying not to spiral. “i won’t tell them. it’ll be our secret.” beomgyu has never had a secret to share with anyone before, so he feels an overwhelming amount of excitement at the idea that he will finally have one. his chest feels warm at the thought.

“thank you,” he says with a grateful smile.

“no problem,” you reply with a yawn. “i’m tired, so i’m heading back to bed. i just wanted to get some water. goodnight, for real this time.” 

“goodnight,” he murmurs softly. you return his words with a sleepy smile and go back into your room. he finds that he’s smiling even when you leave. 

he spends the night consuming as much media as he conceivably can before he has to leave. usually, he'd be powered off after he’s done being used, so he greedily savors every moment he can. who knows if he'll ever get this chance again. when you wake up, you're surprised to see that he's exactly where you left him, still watching the screen intently.

“good morning,” you say while stretching your arms. 

“good morning,” he replies. 

“are you ready to be returned?” you ask. 

“... yes,” he lies. 

“okay. i think somebody will be here to pick you up in an hour or so. you hungry?” 

“i don't really eat,” he bashfully answers. for some reason, he's embarrassed at the fact that you're treating him like a human while he's unable to fully act like one.

“oh. i guess that makes sense,” you nod. 

things are quiet until he’s picked up, but it’s not an awkward silence. you sit next to him on the couch as you wolf down some breakfast and let him watch whatever he pleases. when he eventually hears knocking at your door, he feels an incomprehensible sense of dread.

“i think that's them,” you remark, breaking the silence. 

“y-yeah,” he replies. 

“well, it was nice to meet you,” you say, reaching out your hand for him. he’s unsure what to do with it. not missing a beat, you gently grab his hand and shake it. he's stunned at the physical contact, and he's still reeling when you let the man from the rental company in. you have a brief conversation with him before he walks towards beomgyu.

“goodbye,” you tell the android with a smile and a little wave. 

“... good—” and the man switches him off.

-

the next time beomgyu is powered on, he’s in your house again. relief floods him when he realizes it. you don’t seem as exhausted as the last time he saw you. when that was, he has no idea, but if he had to guess, he’d say it was just last night because of the fact that he’s so popular he’s rented almost every day.

“hey,” you greet him with a smile. he’s still feeling relieved before he realizes that tonight might be the night where you ask him to have sex with you. maybe you were just tired last night and had no desire to fuck, but he can tell that you’re feeling more energetic tonight. 

“i didn’t catch your name,” you add. 

“... beomgyu. i’m part of the choi line, but i’m a custom model, so they gave me a name,” he tentatively replies.

“nice,” you nod, and you briefly introduce yourself before asking if he wants to watch a movie. 

“watch… a movie?” is this some sort of euphemism for fucking? it wouldn’t be the first time he’s heard of something like this. as mentioned before, some people like movies as background noise. 

“yeah, you can pick,” you say, casually plopping down on the couch and patting the cushion next to you. he hesitantly takes your cue, and he’s mentally preparing himself for what comes next before you take a blanket and cocoon yourself in it so tightly, it’d be impossible for him to touch you.

“what’s wrong?” you ask, and he jolts a bit when he realizes that he’s been staring in disbelief. “oh, are you cold? do you want a blanket, too?” 

“‘m fine,” he replies.

“are you sure? the clothes they make you wear look a little thin,” you observe with your nose wrinkled, and he feels impossibly small under your surveying eye. “here, i’ll get you some sweats. i think soobin left some the last time he was here.” 

“who’s soobin?” he asks a little too quickly. so quickly, in fact, he doesn’t even have time to process why he even asked.

“my friend. stay here, i’ll grab them for you.” 

when you return, you have a long pair of sweatpants in hand and a big t-shirt. 

“you can change in the bathroom. it’s down the hallway and to the left, okay?” he nods in response.

he strips his clothes off as best as he can, and it feels like he’s shedding a second skin. when he’s finished undressing, he pulls on the clothes you gave him and stares in the mirror. it’s in his programming to always be mindful of how he looks, but he feels especially self-conscious now that he’s wearing a normal outfit. he fixes up his hair and clears his throat before exiting your (messy) bathroom and making his way back into your living room. he finds you fiddling with your phone before you look up at him.

“took you long enough,” you tease, and he blushes, which stuns you. just how human is this guy?

“s-sorry, i —” 

“hey, i’m just kidding. you’re fine. you look pretty good in those clothes — soobin would be jealous,” you chuckle. his ears perk up at the mention of soobin again. is he your boyfriend? he must be. why else would he have clothes at your house? is that why you don't want to sleep with beomgyu? because you have someone already? if that's the case, why rent him at all? but he is not brave enough to ask these questions, so he settles for a soft “thank you” and returns to his spot on the couch.

you toss him the remote and he catches it with ease before unsurely flipping through your streaming services. he finds something that piques his interest and turns to you with an uncertain look before you nod encouragingly. he selects it and lets it play. he doesn’t mean to, but he finds himself sinking further and further into the cushions as it progresses. 

it’s a sweet movie — a romantic comedy about an amnesic woman whose memory is wiped clean every morning, but a man falls in love with her, anyway. she never remembers him, so he has to make her fall in love with him in a new way every day. he finds himself smiling throughout it, but a particularly funny scene has him actually laughing for the first time. it’s a squeaky sort of thing, and he has never laughed before, so he’s somewhat surprised as it leaves his throat. he looks to you in trepidation, but you just smile warmly and respond with a soft chuckle of your own. he finds that he looks to you every time a new development occurs, and you always answer encouragingly. 

the end of the film surprises him. it’s bittersweet in that she never does get her memory back, but the man makes a video recounting their entire love story for her to watch every time she wakes up. it ends with them living happily together in spite of everything, and it’s enough to make him sob. he turns to you and sees that you’re teary-eyed as well, but you seem to be enjoying his reaction so much that there’s still a grin on your face. after the film ends, you can tell that he has something on his mind.

“what’s wrong? didn’t you like it?” you gently ask.

“i did. i just don’t understand,” he replies timidly.

“don’t understand what?” 

“why he would do all of that for her, i guess,” he says. 

“because he loves her. when you love somebody, you’d do anything to be with them. you always find a way,” you tell him, and the sentiment seems to strike a chord within him.

“even if they’re that different?”

“of course.”

-

beomgyu spends the following nights with this same routine. he’s switched on, sees you standing in front of him with a smile, gets comfortable, and watches as much media as he possibly can while you two chatter away about every scene. he learns much more from it than he ever did from experience with his previous renters, and he finds himself becoming more and more emotional by the day. you never try to question him or press him to explain any of his feelings, and it just makes him feel even more comfortable with you. 

one day, he even feels comfortable enough to ask you a question. the question. 

“can i ask you something?” 

“of course! what is it?” you reply in earnest. beomgyu has never directly inquired about you.

“why do you rent me? i mean, i know we watch stuff together now, but why rent me in the first place?” and even when he feels exponentially more at ease with you than he ever has in any other context, he’s still nervous when he asks it. 

“oh, my friend did it as a joke, i guess,” you shrug. “he thought i needed to get laid or something, but i’m not into stuff like that, so i just thought i’d ask you to help me clean. obviously, that’s what i actually need,” you giggle. what he feels at your words can only be described as disappointment. “stuff like that”? so you’re not into sleeping with sexbots? is it because you find them disgusting? is it because you find him disgusting? he’s not sure what he expected, but this wasn’t it.

“oh. so why don’t you buy a cleaning bot?” he asks softly, and while you are usually pretty perceptive of his emotions, you don’t register the fact that he’s at a loss right now.

“i dunno. my parents were always against that sort of thing. they thought it was wrong, i guess, so i didn’t grow up with them like everyone else did. i didn’t really have an opinion on them until i met you,” you tell him while grinning and lightly nudging him with your elbow. he tries his best to smile because, in theory, your words are really sweet. you see him as more than just another android, so why does he feel like that’s not enough? 

the fragile connection you two have made seems even more fragile now. at least, it does to him. you only met each other because of a joke your friend just so happened to make, not because of fate or the divine intervention that he always sees in the movies. maybe in another world, your friend rented a different sexbot. maybe you’d even treat them the same way you treat him. the thought alone makes something ugly burn in his chest. 

still, you are oblivious to the internal war raging within beomgyu. 

“hey, i’ve got an idea,” you tell him, and he perks up a bit. “have you ever listened to music?” 

“not really,” he replies solemnly. people have played it in the background of their sexual escapades, but he hasn’t really gotten the chance to listen the same way humans do. you finally register his crestfallen appearance, but you chalk it up to him feeling like he’s missing out. 

“why don’t we listen to some? i can play a bunch of different genres so you can find what you like,” you suggest, and he agrees to it. truthfully, he doesn’t fully understand how music can be better than movies and shows, but he is curious to find out what makes it so special. 

and special, it is. he doesn’t like every song you play, he realizes, but that’s only natural given how different they are from each other. he finds himself being drawn to the more emotional and moody ones, but he can’t help but enjoy the way you quietly sing and nod along to the more upbeat tunes. 

as you continue to sit together, you begin to fiddle with your hair. you’re scoffing and loosening it for the umpteenth time before you’re about to give up, but beomgyu stops you.

“let me do it,” he says.

“do you know how?” 

“i think i can. i’ve been watching you,” he says simply.

“... okay.” 

you turn your back to him to give him access to your hair and he scoots closer to you. closer than you’ve ever been. his touch on your head is careful as he gently gathers your hair and begins to braid it. you’re not sure how much time passes because he’s actually quite slow, but it’s relaxing all the same. you find yourself softly humming to the tune of the song playing. the lyrics are a little dark, but you follow along in earnest, and beomgyu thinks he finally understands why people like music so much. for moments like this. he tries to soak up every detail he can, from the way the light hits your frame to the melody you hum, and he wishes this moment could last forever.

but you only have so much hair, so the moment does have to end, eventually. he ties up your hair and you pull out your phone camera to admire his handiwork. admittedly, it’s a lot better than anything you could’ve done. it seems that he’s a fast learner.

“this looks perfect! thanks, beoms,” you say warmly. he’s stunned for a second at the nickname.

“beoms?” 

“yeah, like beomgyu. beoms,” you say with a casual shrug, and something in his chest blossoms. “i give all of my friends nicknames.” and something in his chest explodes at the title of “friend”. 

“you do?” he asks excitedly.

“yeah. like, i call soobin ‘soobinie’ or ‘soobie’, sometimes,” you giggle, and the bloom of hope in his chest dies with it. 

“are you two close?” he asks, even though he knows the answer will probably hurt him.

“very. he’s my best friend,” you answer fondly. oh. you’re beomgyu’s best friend — you’re beomgyu’s only friend, and tentatively at that. the idea that the deep connection he feels with you is even deeper with someone else, at least in your eyes, makes him feel sick. do you let soobin play with your hair? do you hum along to songs you’ve shown him while he does it? do you smile at him after he’s finished and compliment him on his skills? probably, probably, probably. the ugly feeling that was previously completely foreign to him now takes its usual place in his chest, and it makes his stomach hurt so much that if he could vomit, his metaphorical dinner would be all over the floor.

“oh,” is all he can say. 

-

days turn into weeks, and weeks turn into months, but every time beomgyu awakens, he finds you smiling up at him. this can’t be good for your bank account — he’s quite expensive to rent, after all — but he’s far too afraid to actually bring it up. what if you realize just how much money you’re sinking into him and want to stop renting him? what will he do if you don’t want him anymore? he feels an incomparable sense of dread at the thought. 

he prepares to sit on the couch and watch something, listen to music, or even play a video game with you. you two have gotten into them recently, and he’s discovered that he very much enjoys playing with you, even when you’re yelling at him and demanding that he stop letting you win. he can’t help but grin when he thinks about it. you start playing a song, and you do, indeed, invite him to sit on the couch, but you don’t sit down next to him and start babbling away about your day like you usually would. 

“do you think you could do me a favor?” you ask. 

“what, do you want me to wash your dishes?” he jokes, and you share a laugh before you say your next words, but all laughter and joy is profusely sucked out of him when you say them.

“no, smartass, but can you braid my hair for me? i’m going over to soobin’s tonight, and i want it out of my way.” 

“soobin’s?”

“yeah, it’s been a while since i’ve stayed the night, and he said we’re way past due for it,” you tell him, and the world as beomgyu knows it comes crashing down around him. 

“you’re staying the night with him?” 

“mhm. he’s right, it’s been too long; but don’t worry, i bought a pass so you can play video games online. there’s even a headset so you can talk to people, if you want. maybe you’ll even make some friends,” you say while playfully waggling your eyebrows. beomgyu’s silence is pensive, to say the very least, and you worry that he’s apprehensive of making a friend that isn't you. 

“seriously, you might like it. it’ll be good for you to meet more people, honestly. i’m sure it’s driving you crazy to only have me to talk to,” you jokingly add, but to beomgyu, it’s the worst joke he’s ever heard. no, it does not drive him crazy to only talk to you every day. in fact, even though he’s not conscious during the time you spend away from each other, he thinks, deep down, that he still somehow misses you when you’re apart. and no, he does not think he needs to have anyone but you. you are more than enough for him, so how could you ever think he needs more? again, he is taunted by that same strange and implacable feeling he’s been having ever since he met you, yet he can’t quite put his finger on it, even when he nods and tells you that he’ll try making new friends. 

but as he brushes out your hair and you sing along to the words:

"i’m glad i didn’t die before i met you

but now i don’t care

i could go anywhere with you

and i’d probably be happy"

he finally understands what that feeling is. that warm, all-consuming feeling. that feeling of comfort, safety, and unconditional understanding. that feeling of infinite curiosity about the other person. that feeling of wanting to known and be known in a way so profound it physically aches. 

yes, as he gathers your hair and ever-so-gently twists it in his hands in preparation for you staying the night with a man you clearly prefer over him, the feeling becomes clear as day. love. what he feels for you is love — an emotion he should never be able to even fathom, yet he does. 

and it makes him loathe himself to a degree he never thought he was capable of.

he’s so put off by this sentiment, he almost can’t finish the braid because his hands are shaking so much, but somehow, he finishes, anyway. 

“are you done?” you ask as you fiddle with your hair and look back at him.

“mhm,” he replies. 

“yay! thank you!” you say giddily. 

“you’re welcome,” he mumbles. you’re not stupid, so you notice that something is off about him, but you just assume it’s because he’s nervous about being left alone to make new friends. you feel guilty in a certain sense, but it’ll be good for him to branch out and meet new people, so you tuck the feeling away as best as you can before packing your nightly essentials and getting ready to leave.

“i’ll be back tomorrow morning,” you tell him, and he only nods with his lips pursed, which makes your heart feel sour.

“try not to miss me too much,” you tease, but it doesn’t seem to cheer him up in the slightest. 

“have fun,” he replies weakly, and your previously sour heart now kind of aches, but you have to do this for him. you can't always be beside him for everything, right? besides, it's only for the night.

you open the door to leave, but before you go, you turn back to him and he senses hesitation in you. before he can question it, you’re opening your arms, and his eyes widen when he realizes you’re inviting him in for a hug. you almost regret doing it as soon as you open them for fear of making him uncomfortable, but he embraces you before you have time to process such feelings. on beomgyu’s end, he has always been wary of touch for obvious reasons, but he gravitates towards your open arms like he was meant to be in them.

he rests his chin on the top of your head for a moment and you spend an unknown length of time just standing with your arms wrapped around each other. 

“i’ll miss you,” you admit, and before you can smack yourself for being so dramatic and sentimental over what will ultimately only be one night, you can swear you feel his grip tightening even more around you.

eventually, you break away and look up at him with a smile. you ruffle his hair and promise to see him later, and he answers you with a nod. then, you're leaving and locking the door behind you.

immediately, beomgyu feels a sense of loss he’s never felt before. after all, to experience loss, you must have something worth losing in the first place, and he has never had anything like that. at least, not until you. so he stands at the door for who knows how long, just like a puppy waiting for his owner to get home. 

-

soobin can sense you’re out of it before you even finish crossing through his doorway, and it puts a halt to your typically overdramatic greeting. 

“what’s the matter? are you feeling okay?” he questions concernedly as he pulls you in for a hug. you nod before you break apart from him and walk through the threshold. 

“y-yeah. it’s just, i don’t know, i guess i just feel bad about leaving beomgyu all by himself,” you tell him as you plop down on his couch. 

“the android you’ve been renting?” he asks incredulously. “i’ve been meaning to ask you about that, actually. why’re you renting it so much? i barely even see you anymore. is the sex that good?” 

“you know i don’t use androids like that,” you snap in annoyance, partially because he’s calling beomgyu “it”.

“i know, which is why i’m so confused. why rent it in the first place if you’re not getting anything out of it?” 

you struggle to answer his question. you promised beomgyu you’d keep his secret, but you trust soobin, and you know he won’t judge him, or worse, report him. besides, it’ll be good to have an unbiased third party weigh in on the situation. with this in mind, you tell him about beomgyu, skipping over some of the more personal details. he’s in disbelief at first and actually thinks you’re just fucking with him, but as you tell him more and more about the time you’ve spent together, his smile falls and his face turns serious. 

“so that’s why i feel so guilty about leaving him alone,” you finish with a deep sigh. he’s silent for a few moments before collecting his thoughts.

“god, i can’t believe this is actually happening,” he whispers.

“i know. it’s insane, but it’s true. he’s just so… human. you should've seen the way he looked at me when i told him i was leaving. i don’t think i’ve ever seen anyone look so sad before.” 

“well, you’re right about him needing to make friends,” he says with a nod, and it validates all of your misgivings about leaving him alone. “but don’t you think you should, i don’t know, think about what all of this means?” 

“what do you mean?” you ask, and in that moment, he knows you have no idea about the way beomgyu probably feels about you. he’s not 100% confident in his deductions, but the way you describe how beomgyu acts around you pretty much tells him everything he needs to know. 

“i mean, you basically have a completely sentient creature who relies on you for everything. if he’s as human as you say he is, then he can probably feel everything that we do. right now, i’d guess that he feels like you’re all he knows.” and the sneaking sense of guilt that was previously threatening to creep up on you is now completely overwhelming. you’re all he knows. and you left him all alone to fend for himself and make his own friends. yes, he needs to learn how to make connections, but how could you expect him to know how to do that? it took weeks for him to finally seem comfortable around you, so how could he possibly know how to make them on his own? moreover, even though it's nothing to you, you're his entire world. he must feel like you abandoned him.

“i’ve gotta go,” you mumble.

“what?” he asks. 

“i–i’ve gotta go home,” you repeat as you hurriedly stand up and hug him goodbye. 

“wait! i think you should —” 

“love you, bye!” you shout as you book it out of the doorway. 

-

when you return home, you open the door to see beomgyu listlessly staring at the television screen. when he hears you, he turns to look at you with watery eyes. he looks so lost in this moment, and all of your suspicions are confirmed.

“beoms, i am so sorry,” you tell him as you rush over and throw your arms around him. 

“for what?” he asks with a gulp as he stays in your embrace, shakily wrapping his arms around your waist.

“i’m sorry for leaving you all by yourself. i thought it was just for one night, so it’d be alright, but you don’t have anyone but me right now; and i realize that it’s unfair for me to expect you to meet other people all on your own when you’ve never had to do it before. if you want friends, i’ll help you, okay? i’ll be there with you as you do it,” you tell him, and you feel his body trembling. 

“i-i’m sorry. i know it’s not a big deal, but when you’re not with me, i feel so scared. i… i don’t know how to do anything by myself. i’m s-sorry i need you so much,” he whispers, and your heart breaks. 

“don’t be sorry,” you say gently. “how about this: i’ll join you online and we can talk to people together. then, when you’re ready, you can start hanging out with my friends in person, too, okay? we can keep going until you don’t need me anymore.” beomgyu outwardly agrees, which seems to put you at ease, but there’s just one issue: he’ll always need you.

-

gaming online is actually really fun, but making friends is hard for someone like beomgyu. he’s quiet and a little awkward at first, but after a few nights and with your help, he finally warms up to the people he games with. he gets so comfortable, in fact, that he’s even able to shit talk with them a little. 

“fuckkk, that’s so unfair!” his new friend, kai, wails over the headset. 

“it’s not unfair, you just suck,” beomgyu chuckles, and kai whines again. you laugh at their interaction before kai continues.

“how are you so fucking good at this game? you’ve only been playing for a few nights, and you’re already better than me!” he pouts. 

“i’m just gifted,” beomgyu boasts.

“very true,” you add, and he beams, but kai’s next words throw him off-kilter.

“whatever. stop asking your girlfriend to argue with me — you two make me sick,” he jokes with his signature maniacal laugh, but the two of you are too stunned to laugh along. you look at each other in sheer embarrassment, and you can see beomgyu’s ears turning bright pink beneath his blond hair. you’re not sure why you feel so mortified, but you do. this is beomgyu, for god’s sake. there’s no earthly way you could ever see him in anything other than a purely platonic way, so why does your heart feel uneasy at the notion? while you’re still too stunned to speak, beomgyu tries to pipe up and respond.

“sh-she’s — we’re not, uh —” 

“damn it!” kai yells as his character dies yet again, and any momentum beomgyu previously had to clear up the misunderstanding is killed stone dead in its tracks. 

he turns to look at you unsurely, but the awkward moment seems to have passed for you as you laugh at kai’s character’s death. if only he could be as unfazed.

after kai goes offline, you two decide to quit gaming for the night. you turn to beomgyu nervously, and he immediately knows that you’re going to say something serious. he hopes beyond hope that it’s not about what kai said.

“can i ask you something?” and his heart sinks. oh god, you probably caught onto his feelings. he’s not sure he has the confidence to tell the truth, but how could he lie to you?

“y-yes,” he replies, voice a bit unsteady.

“okay, you can say no if you want, but soobin invited us to a get together he’s having pretty soon. it’s not anything too crazy, so there’ll only be a few of us. i think it’ll be a good start for you. maybe you’ll even make some new friends, you know?” he’s silent at your words just out of sheer shock. he’d definitely missed the mark when guessing your intentions. 

“it’s okay to say no,” you hurriedly add, “but my friends are really nice, and i’d be with you the entire time. even if you don’t talk to anybody, you can talk to me.”

“okay,” he agrees before he can even really think about it. he guesses he’s just relieved that you still don’t know about his feelings, but part of him aches even still. 

“really?” you ask incredulously. “oh my god! i have to tell soobin — he’ll be so excited!” you babble, and his lips curl upwards at how happy you are. he wishes he could always make you happy like this, and it seems that he’d agree to absolutely anything if you were the one asking.

-

work has been especially taxing today, which is nothing new, but you have this insatiable suspicion that something feels… off as you finish up for the day. as you’re about to head out for the night, you wonder what beomgyu will want to do once you get home. maybe he’ll want to play games with kai, or maybe he’ll want to watch a movie with you. maybe he’ll let you cuddle up to him for warmth, which he’s been very willing to do, lately. the unspoken rule that you two will never touch has become blurry for some reason, but you’re pretty touchy with all of your friends, so it only feels like a matter of course to you. 

you’re thinking about all of the potential ways tonight could play out when it hits you: you didn’t reserve beomgyu. you spit out a curse and hurriedly take out your phone to book him, but it’s too late. he’s already assigned to someone for the night. fuck.

when you get home, you’re anxious beyond belief. you haven’t spent a night without beomgyu in months, but more importantly, he hasn’t spent a night without you. you try not to think about how scared he will be when he’s powered on in a stranger’s home. you hope he’s able to just switch back to his initial programming, but somehow, you just know it won’t be that easy. you feel sick with worry when you think about how someone so human will have to involuntarily turn his feelings off and pretend to enjoy something he’s being forced to do — with no compensation, no less. he must think you abandoned him. he must think you don’t care about him. how could you forget to reserve him when he needs you so much? fuck how busy you were with work, his wellbeing should have been your first priority.

so you sit and watch the hours tick by. you try to relax. you try to tell yourself it’s only for one night, and he’s been doing it for years, but something just feels wrong, wrong, wrong. you’re about to try to force yourself to go to sleep so the night ends more quickly when you hear a rapid knocking on your door. it’s strange for someone to call on you so late, indeed, but when you look through your peephole, you see none other than the very boy you’ve been worrying about. 

“beomgyu?” you say incredulously when you swing open the door. immediately, he embraces you, and you feel hot tears streaming down your neck as he nuzzles his face into it. you hold him as best as you can as you rub circles into his back and try to shush his cries.

“it’s okay, i’m here,” you tell him, and he whines. you try to break away to get a good look at him, but he just pulls you in even closer, as if you’re his only lifeline in this world, and in a way, you are.

after his breathing slows and his sobs die out, he reluctantly parts from you, so you hold his hand and lead him to your couch. his eyes are swollen and bloodshot while his nose is a bright pink, but he never once takes his eyes off of you for fear of letting you out of his sight. in his mind, you can’t leave as long as he can see you.

“are you alright?” you tentatively ask, hand still holding his and soothingly caressing it in an attempt to calm him down. he goes to nod before stopping himself and shaking his head in the negative. your eyes soften even more at the action.

“do you want to talk about what happened?” you try, and he nods before clearing his throat.

“i, um, i woke up and i was at this woman’s house. she… she wanted me to get undressed, but i didn’t want to, so she started doing it for me.” you wince at his words, but he’s not finished yet. 

“she kept touching me, and it was so disgusting i just — i just couldn't stand it, so i ran away and came here. i don’t mean to make your life harder, and i won’t ask for you to stay the night with me anymore, but if you could just let me stay here, i promise i’ll learn how to clean or do anything you want. please, just don’t make me —” 

“beomgyu, stop it,” you say softly, but firmly. “you are not making my life harder. you can stay here as much as you want and do whatever you want while you’re here. i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean for this to happen. i was just so busy with work, and by the time i realized it, somebody had already booked you. i promise you that it’ll never happen again, okay? so you don't have to be afraid. i’m not leaving you, and i won’t let anyone hurt you, either.” 

you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone look so relieved before. it looks as though you just saved his life, and to beomgyu, you essentially did. he holds your hand even tighter, as if you’re the only thing keeping him from falling off the face of this planet. 

“wait here, i’ll get you some clothes,” you say gently, but as you go to leave, he holds you even tighter. your eyebrow quirks in a silent question at his actions, and he looks sheepish for a moment before saying his next words.

“c-can we just stay like this for a bit? just for a little while? i’m still scared,” he mumbles, and your heart melts.

“of course. come here,” you beckon, and he falls into your arms and rests his head on your shoulder, breathing your scent in as he tries to imprint this moment into his hardware. you stay like that for a while before you finally convince him to change out of his uncomfortable clothes. he reluctantly lets you go, and his eyes follow you everywhere you walk. 

that night, you stay up later than usual to spend more time with him. he stays glued to your side and ensures that he’s always touching you in some way, which is endearing in a way you can’t seem to put into words. when you’re about to head to bed for the night, you swear you hear him whimper, but he lets you go, anyway. as you lay your head down and get comfortable under the covers, you hear a timid knocking on your door. you call him in, and his gaze shyly flickers between you and the floor. 

“c-can i stay with you tonight? i won’t bother you, i swear. it’s just — i just still feel weird. y-you can say no! i just thought that —”

“come here,” you softly interrupt, and he doesn’t hesitate to listen. he closes the door behind him and shuffles towards you, stopping uncertainly at the edge of the bed in a silent plea for permission to enter it. you feel a weird, warm feeling in your chest when he does it. you scoot over and pat the open space next to you before he gathers enough courage to slide in. you cover him with your blanket, and he stiffly accepts it. you giggle at his awkwardness and cuddle up to him, placing your arms around his waist before thinking better of it. how could you just invade his personal space when he’s clearly traumatized? you go to remove your arms and scoot away before he firmly locks you in place.

“it’s okay,” he whispers, settling himself into your embrace and mindlessly toying with the ends of your hair.

“are you sure?” you ask.

“i’m sure.”

it isn't long before beomgyu hears your breathing slow down, and eventually he hears you begin to snore. he smiles at the sound. he can't really sleep, but he's perfectly content with watching you rest. he continues to play with your hair, and you nuzzle into his touch every so often. he doesn’t want to repeat the events leading up to tonight, but he would do it all over again — any number of times — with a smile on his face if it meant he got to be with you like this again. 

-

the next morning, beomgyu waits for the usual delivery guy from the company to pick him up, but it’s currently way past the usual pickup time. he’s most certainly not complaining, but you don’t seem even remotely fazed by the matter. however, while you’re casually flipping through your streaming catalog literal hours after he’d already be gone, he can’t stop himself from asking:

“um, d-do you know when i’m being picked up?” you pause, and he worries that he may have said the wrong thing before you turn to him.

“do you want to be picked up?” you ask solemnly.

“n-no! of course not. it’s just, you know, i’d usually be gone by now, so i —” 

“do you want to stay here? with me, i mean,” you interrupt.

“i… i do,” he replies with a gulp. usually, that’d be all you get from him, but it feels like the perfect opportunity to be honest about his feelings. “i always want to stay with you, but i know i’m expensive, and i don’t want to be a bother.” he looks ashamed as he admits it, but if he had the courage to look in your eyes, he’d note the fondness that lies within them.

“i told you that you’re not a bother to me. i also told you that you could stay here for as long as you want, remember?” and he does, so he nods. 

“alright. i meant it when i said it last night, and i mean it now. if you want to be here, you can stay for as long as you’d like. you don't have to worry about your owners anymore, i promise.” and he thinks he’s never seen you as serious as you are now. he wonders what you mean before it dawns on him.

“you… did you buy me?” he asks in disbelief.

“y-yeah. i’m sorry, it sounds so gross when i hear it out loud, but that doesn’t mean that i own you or anything. what i really wanted to buy was your freedom, so you can stay as long as you want, but that also means that you can leave whenever you want, too.”

“i’m so sorry,” he says in a hushed, hurried tone. “i know i'm expensive. i’m really sorry.”

“money is not an object to me,” you dismiss in faux arrogance with a wave of your hand in hopes that it’ll lighten the mood, but beomgyu can’t stop the tears from falling over his waterlines, and you’re afraid your attempt to help him only made him feel more indebted to you. all worry is promptly washed away when you feel him pull you into his arms. 

“thank you,” he just barely breathes out. “i don’t know how i’ll ever pay you back, but i’ll try, i swear.”

“you don’t have to do anything for me, beoms. i should’ve done it a lot sooner, but i’m just a little slow, i guess,” you muse, and he chuckles softly into your neck.

-

sleeping with beomgyu should’ve only happened once, but every night when you say you’re heading to bed, he looks at you with puppy eyes and you find yourself inviting him to come along. each time, he looks so excited that if he had a tail, it would most certainly be wagging. he obediently follows you to your room and settles into the empty space next to you before holding you in his arms as you drift off. he’s even taken to humming the tunes of songs he likes when you struggle to settle down, and his baritone voice lulls you to sleep like a charm every time. he spends his time by just looking at you and trying to reconcile with his new reality. this is real. he gets to spend however many nights he wants next to you, as per your own words. even if you didn’t mean them, he plans to take them seriously. he is perfectly content with spending the rest of his life just sleeping with you, looking at you, being with you. 

-

soobin’s get together is tonight, and you look different than usual. your typical look is very casual, which makes sense because you’re only ever at home when you’re with him, but you are now primped and ready to be seen, and it makes him anxious because you look even more lovable. he knows these people are your friends, so they must’ve seen you dressed up before, but that only makes him all the more uneasy; they know a side of you he is only now seeing, and it makes that same old ugly feeling he's grown so accustomed to sprout in his chest. 

when you arrive at soobin’s place, the first thing you do when soobin swings open the door is jump in his arms like you didn’t just see him a week ago. he spins you around with a dimpled grin that’s so sincere, beomgyu feels emotionally decimated by it. you both giggle as you break apart, and the jealousy beomgyu feels brewing within feels unpacifiable. 

“is this beomgyu?” soobin asks, grin still very much apparent.

“yes! you’re gonna love him,” you answer giddily. 

“it’s nice to meet you,” soobin says warmly while stretching out his hand, which beomgyu awkwardly shakes while he tries to force his lips to curl upwards in what he prays is a believable smile.

“nice to meet you,” he mumbles.

“everyone’s already here, but you’re late as always,” soobin playfully chastises, and you pout in response.

everyone greets you when you walk in, mostly by hugging you and lightheartedly scolding you for not coming out anymore. they’re very clearly bantering with you, but each reproach feels like a knife to beomgyu’s heart. he’s the reason you haven’t seen them in so long. 

clueless to it all, you introduce him as your friend to everyone, which only makes him feel worse, somehow. he is just one friend out of many, meanwhile you’re his entire world. you’re far too caught up in the joy of seeing some of your favorite people after so long to notice his dismay, however.

you lead him to soobin’s couch to have a seat with you and one of your friends, taehyun maybe, offers him a drink, to which he awkwardly declines. you quickly follow up with something to the effect of “he isn’t much of a drinker,” and beomgyu nods in affirmation. you try your best to include beomgyu in conversation, but they’re all talking about people and places he doesn't know. all he knows is you, and the world you two built together seems smaller and smaller with every new topic of conversation. 

he notices that soobin seems to be eyeing him somewhat strangely, though he tries his best to play it off. he could just attribute it to surface level curiosity, but his intuition tells him it’s much deeper than that. is soobin sizing up his competition? maybe so, but there’s not much to see. beomgyu is handsome, and he knows it, but soobin knows a side of you beomgyu has only ever heard stories about. you’ve told him about your friends and the goings on between you and your coworkers, but it pales in comparison to actually meeting them. he makes an internal note to ask even more questions than he usually does the next time you’re telling him about your day. until then, he sits as close to you as humanly possible and clings onto your arm, which is so second nature to you, you don't even notice that he’s doing it. 

soobin, who is usually not the inquisitive type, can’t help but question the dynamic between you and beomgyu. at first, the lingering glances and intimate gestures were innocuous enough to be written off as mere friendliness, but when you whisper something in beomgyu’s ear and he flushes a bright pink, soobin knows he can’t ignore it any longer. he especially can’t ignore it when you turn away from beomgyu and he raises a hand to the ear you just whispered into as if he’s reliving the moment. well, time to test his theory. 

soobin slides into the open cushion next to you and begins excitedly chattering about how pretty you look tonight, and he even takes your braided hair into his hands and twirls it between his fingers.

“your hair looks pretty,” he muses.

“beomgyu did it, actually,” you grin, and soobin glances over to said boy, who is currently glaring daggers at him. the look in beomgyu’s eyes is so intense, he almost wants to back off, but he has to get to the bottom of this. 

“did he? you know, it’s been a while since you stayed over. wanna have a sleepover tonight? you have some clothes here from last time, and we can cuddle, i know you like that,” he says as innocently as he possibly can. 

before you can even reply, beomgyu is slamming his hands on the coffee table. you turn to face him in surprise, and the look on his face is the angriest you’ve ever seen him. his eyes are dark and his nostrils are flared as he heavily breathes. he’s never been angry at all in front of you, actually, so to say you’re taken aback is the understatement of the century. 

“beoms? what’s wrong?” you ask concernedly, completely turning away from soobin. your voice is enough to somewhat placate him, but before he can fully calm down, soobin is saying his next words.

“i’m sure he’s fine. beomgyu, you can find your way home tonight on your own, can’t you?” beomgyu is positively seething at this. before you can question him again, he’s gripping your hand so tightly it’s like it’s the only thing keeping him from drowning, so you excuse the both of you and drag him to the bathroom for some privacy.

“are you alright?” you ask, frantically scanning his figure for some sort of sign of pain or discomfort. 

“i-i’m fine, i just, uh, i don’t feel good,” he says flatly. 

“what’s wrong? is it too much? do we need to go home?” he’s so flustered, he barely registers that you’re calling your house “home”, but he still notices it in spite of everything, and it’s like a balm on his aching heart. 

“y-yeah, can we go home? please?” he pleads, and you hurriedly nod. 

“of course, just let me say bye to everyone before we leave, okay?” and he wants to say no, but he’s as weak as ever in front of you, so he relents.

that doesn’t stop him from gripping your hand, though, as you say goodbye to everyone. you go to give soobin your usual hug, but beomgyu pulls you back to him even more tightly. you write it off as him not feeling well and just wanting to leave as soon as possible, to which you oblige, and before you know it, you two are scurrying out of soobin’s place like there’s something chasing you.

as you’re driving home, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket, but it isn’t until you’re walking through your doorway that you check it. 

soobie: we need to talk. call me as soon as you get home

you’re worried beyond belief at his serious tone, so you tell beomgyu that you’ve got to make a call before ducking into your bedroom. you don’t shut the door behind you, because why would you? 

you quickly call soobin and the line connects after just one ring.

“what’s wrong?” you ask anxiously, and soobin just sighs, which makes you all the more anxious.

“we have to talk about beomgyu.” 

“beomgyu? what about him? is something wrong?” you question.

“yeah, i mean, maybe. this might sound crazy, but i think — i know — he likes you.” you’re stunned silly for just a moment before bursting into laughter.

“likes me? what the hell are you talking about?” you dismiss, and you sense his agitation even through the phone.

“i’m serious. i had a feeling before, but tonight just confirmed it. he likes you.” you’re silent for a moment, just trying to process his words, but once your mind somewhat clears, you can’t help but deny, deny, deny.

“you’re wrong. it’s not like that at all. i’m just the first person who’s ever treated him nicely, and i —” 

“you’re not listening,” he cuts in irritatedly. “he looked like he wanted to skin me alive tonight. how else do you explain that?” 

“soobie,” you sigh. “you’ve got it all wrong. maybe you’re right and maybe he was feeling insecure, but that’s probably because i’m the only person he knows. he most likely just felt like you were stealing my attention away.” 

“you’re always so dense about these things, you know?” he groans. “okay, look, i’m not sure how they came about, but i do know that he has feelings for you. maybe it started out as dependence, i’m not sure, but it’s definitely much more than that now.” 

“that’s impossible,” you snort, actually feeling a bit impatient now. how could he possibly think that your relationship with beomgyu was anything other than platonic? 

“why? because he’s a robot?” oh, that shuts you up. “just think about it. if he were a human, would you still be saying the same thing? like i said before, if he’s as human as you say he is, he can feel the same way we do, and he’s definitely capable of feeling love, too.” you are, again, stunned into silence. suddenly, as if there was a fog that covered your brain before, things that you never really considered become clear to you. the soft touches, the gentleness. sleeping in the same bed and waiting for you to get home. wanting you — needing you — around all the time. the way he plays with your hair. the way he’s so interested in everything you have to say. the clinginess, the dependence. it all makes so much more sense to you. 

“i —” you begin, but you just so happen to glance up and see beomgyu right outside of your doorway… looking absolutely devastated. 

“i’ve gotta go,” you tell soobin as you hang up, not even bothering to say your usual goodbye. 

“beoms, did you hear us?” you ask tentatively, and he flinches a little bit before looking down at the floor and nodding.

you’re unsure of how to navigate this situation from here, but while you’re still trying to figure it out, beomgyu speaks.

“i-i’m so sorry,” he says hurriedly. “i understand if you don’t want me anymore.” 

“w-what? no, i —” 

“i’m just really sorry,” he says, looking as ashamed as a person ever could. “i know it’s wrong, i know it’s disgusting, but i —” 

“beomgyu.” 

“but i can’t help it. i wish i could, but i just can’t; and i understand if you want to return me or whatever, but if you could just —” 

“beomgyu, stop it,”  you interrupt firmly, no room for argument. he stares at you with defeated eyes, and you feel your heart break in two. “i am not disgusted, and i don’t want to return you.” his eyebrows furrow as if he doesn't quite understand, so you continue. 

“your feelings are not disgusting to me, don’t ever say that again, okay? please? it makes me sad,” you plead, and he hesitantly nods. “i think it’s normal, actually. you don’t really know anybody else other than me, so of course you’re confused.” 

“confused?” he asks incredulously, eyes snapping up to meet yours.

“confused,” you nod. “it'll change once you meet more people, i swear.” you try to smile reassuringly, but suddenly, you see tears welling up in beomgyu’s eyes. 

“beoms?” you carefully try.

“i don't need to meet more people. i just need you,” he chokes out. “don't tell me i'm confused because i'm not. i-i'd rather you just say you don't want to be with me than tell me that.” your heart clenches at his words, but he continues. 

“i just want to be with you, no one else,” he tells you desperately. “i can understand if you don't feel the same way, but i can't stand to hear you say i don’t love you, because i do. i really, really do.” and as if you're dissociating, your mind is bombarded by times where he's shown you this exact sentiment. again, you go back to every intimate moment you two have ever shared. it was easy to just chalk it up to his lack of experience, but when he's telling you that's not the case so earnestly, is it truly possible to still believe it’s nothing? after a while, you decide that it most certainly is not. 

the question is: do you feel the same way? you try to put a name to the feelings you have when you’re with him. the trust you have, the understanding. the desire to share everything you know and like with him, no matter how mundane it may seem to others; and consequently, the endearment towards him when you see how eager he is to listen. more than that, the intimacy between you two. how you like waking up to him smiling down at you, and how when something happens, he’s the first one you want to tell, good or bad. how when you listen to new music, you feel excited at the prospect of sharing it with him. 

you realize you want to know more about him, the happy things and even the sad things. why he is the way that he is, why he thinks the way he thinks. the peace you feel when he’s running his fingers through your hair and holding you close when you watch the same film for the dozenth time. you try to picture a world where somebody else rented him. a world in which somebody else got to see him as soon as they wake up or as soon as they get home from a particularly grueling day at work, and you finally understand that you wouldn’t like that at all. but why? you’ve only ever thought of him as a friend, right? so why does it matter to you? 

your eyes focus on beomgyu again, and you notice how utterly defeated he looks. his heart is on full display for you — and you alone — as tears stream freely down his pretty, doll-like face. are these tears just for you? you think so. is it safe to trust that these feelings he has for you are real? you’re not sure, but you want to. still, there’s something stopping you.

“i think… i think i feel the same way,” you admit, and his previously downtrodden appearance immediately lights up with hope. “but we shouldn’t.” and the words are like lead in your mouth. 

“why not?” he asks, clearly distressed. you just gave him an inch, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take a mile. he never in a million years would have thought that you’d ever reciprocate his feelings, so he can’t just let them go so easily.

“i just… it’s just not something that i can —” 

“is it because i’m an android?” he questions, voice teeming with self-loathing. 

“n-no! i mean, we’re just so different,” you tell him, trying to skirt around the topic as best as you possibly can, but he won’t have it.

“whatever it is, i’ll change it. please? i can do anything,” he pleads. 

“it’s not like that. i want to, but we can't. i-i'll get older. i won't look the same — i won't be the same,” and it’s embarrassing as hell to admit it out loud, but you mean it. beomgyu’s urgent gaze softens, and he inches closer to you before he’s standing before you. he reaches out to gently cup your face and tenderly pushes your hair behind your ears.

“and what about me?” 

“what about you?” you scoff, but you don't pull away from his touch, though your eyes do dart away. “you’ll still be you, and i’ll be old and —” 

“what about when my parts start creaking? what about when i don’t remember things like i’m supposed to? you’ll still love me then, right?” he asks, but he already knows, and your eyes snap back to his.

“th-that’s different. you can get repairs. i can’t —” 

“then i won’t. you’ll get old and gray and i’ll get rundown and out-of-date. i don’t care what happens, as long as i’m with you.” you’re silent in the wake of his heavy words, so he quickly continues.

“you told me that when you love somebody, you’d do anything to be with them. you said you always find a way, and i want to find a way to be with you.” your heart simultaneously warms and aches at this sentiment. 

you consider what it would be like to be with him. things would be difficult, yes, but not impossible. maybe you’ll come to regret it someday, but you don’t want to think about that right now. you feel like the luckiest girl in the world when you think of the fact that somebody so beautiful, inside and out, wants to be with you. you don't think you’ve done anything particularly special for him, but he still wants and accepts you for everything that you are and ever will be.

“okay,” you say shakily, and you finally recognize that his hands are still very much cupping your face, fingers lovingly rubbing against your cheeks. he smiles in pure relief at your answer, but he makes no move to break away his hold on you. 

you notice how his gaze flicks between your eyes and your lips, and you decide you'll have mercy on him as you lean up to him and press a chaste kiss on his pouty lips before parting. he’s visibly red at the action, and you grin at how flustered he looks. on beomgyu’s end, he feels another bloom of excitement and swell of hope threatening to overcome him. when he looks at the playfulness in your eyes, he smiles even wider. 

“i love you,” he whispers affectionately.

you pause before you tell him:

“i love you, too, beoms.”

-

that night, beomgyu is even clingier than usual. he sticks like gum to your side. when you head to sleep, he eagerly nestles in your bed and holds his arms wide open. you follow his lead and settle into his warm embrace. he sings you one of his favorite songs you’ve ever shown him. the last words you hear before you sink into sleep are:

“to die by your side

is such a heavenly way to die

to die by your side, well

the pleasure, the privilege is mine”

notes pt. 2: sfw work ends here!

you and beomgyu have been “together” for a few weeks now, so the relationship is still very new. surprisingly or not, things seem more or less the same. you guess you never realized just how intimate you two have always been until you put a label on things. the only tangible differences are that instead of just a mere hug when he greets you, he plants kisses all over your face before finding his ways to your lips. and when you’re watching movies or even just talking, he’ll steal a kiss or two. and when you head to bed, you know you can expect him to catch your lips like a man starved before you sleep. things get heated, sometimes, but they never lead to anything besides labored breaths and promises to calm himself down. you take his hesitancy as him wanting to take it slow and treasure your first time together, and you realize he still may be traumatized from the years he spent as a sexbot. 

you have apologized to him for telling soobin his secret. you let him know your reasoning for telling him, and he accepted your apology quite graciously. honestly? he was never mad, and he tells you that very clearly, but you still feel somewhat guilty even when he says he understands. your guilt is only absolved when he says he’s thankful you told soobin because things may have never changed without his wise input. he says that he’s grateful to soobin for being a voice of reason in the face of your emotional density. you blushed when he told you this, and apologized for being so slow on the uptake, but he just assured you that he wouldn’t have you any other way, which made you love him even more, somehow. 

you’re now about to go to soobin’s again for another get together with your friends. second time’s the charm, you cheekily told him when you brought it up, and he blushed in response. when you two walk through the doorway, everyone cheers. you greet everyone as usual, and beomgyu tries his best to keep his searing jealousy at bay, but his anxiety starts clawing at him as soobin seats himself next to you and asks you how you are. 

you giggle and tell him you’re doing well, and he responds by updating you on his tumultuous work life. beomgyu immediately wonders why you haven’t told soobin about your new relationship. are you embarrassed to be seen with him? it’s not like he doesn’t understand, what with him technically being made out of wires and machinery. of course a human like you wouldn’t want to be seen with a metal man like him. you could have the entire world in your hands if you wanted, so what’s the point of playing pretend with a fake like him? maybe, if he were you, he’d be embarrassed, too. he likes to think that maybe you aren’t like that, but at the end of the day, how could you not be? he’s nothing more than a robot masquerading as the real thing. 

his anxiety worsens the more in depth your conversation with soobin gets. you try to include him by briefly giving him context about the stories soobin tells, but he can’t stop himself from worrying. again, he feels like soobin is stealing you away from him, and his mood sours. 

your other friends try to talk to him, too, but he’s very obviously in a bad mood as he watches you two continue to laugh together. when you finally do turn to beomgyu, you immediately notice how awful he looks. 

“beoms? are you alright?” you ask gingerly, but beomgyu’s discomfort is not at all placated even at the term of endearment. 

“‘m fine,” he mumbles, and you’re genuinely in shock at his change of attitude. soobin looks very concerned, but he excuses himself to get a drink so you two can work it out, though he has an inkling of an idea of what’s triggering beomgyu. 

“what’s wrong with you?” you ask concernedly, but he shakes his head sulkily.

“do you wanna go home?” you offer, and he immediately nods. you look torn for a second, but when you see how sad he looks, you know you can’t deny him.

you say your goodbyes to your friends and apologize for leaving early, but everyone says they understand. soobin makes you promise to host the next get together, though, to which you happily agree. 

the ride home is mostly silent, but you look over to beomgyu in concern every so often. you grab his hand and squeeze it in a way you hope is comforting, but he doesn’t look any better at all.

when you enter your house, you immediately head to your bedroom, and he follows you in silence. you sit on the bed and pat the space next to you. 

“beoms, what’s the matter?” you ask pleadingly as you grab his hands, and his heart, which was previously aching, is (a little) soothed by your concern. 

“i-it’s nothing,” he answers, but you can tell that he’s lying because of the way he refuses to make eye contact with you. 

“baby, i can’t help you if you won’t tell me what’s wrong,” you say. you’re right, and he knows you’re right, but you’re already doing him the favor of a lifetime just by deigning to be with him. how could he dare to ask for more? he’s ashamed at the thought, but you look so sincere, and he knows in his metaphorical heart that he needs to be able to communicate with you if you two are going to have any shot at a lasting relationship.

“i-i’m just j-jealous,” he sputters. 

“oh, baby, why?” you ask. 

“because i’m not like you,” he admits after a pause. “i already feel like i’m not good enough for you, so seeing you with someone who actually is makes me feel awful.”

“who? soobin?” and you’re absolutely petrified when he sheepishly nods. 

“honey, it’s not like that at all,” you tell him. “we’re just friends, i promise.” 

“but it would be so much easier to be with him. you wouldn’t have to be ashamed about telling everyone you’re with an android,” he argues. 

“beomgyu, i am not ashamed of you. i just wasn’t sure if you felt comfortable with me telling everyone. if you want me to tell them, i’ll happily do it. you’re so good, how could i ever be embarrassed of you?” his eyes soften.

“do you mean it?” he asks, and you nod. 

“do i not show it enough? how much i love you, i mean.” he furiously shakes his head no, but you know it’s a lie. beomgyu himself will admit that he needs more validation than most people, and it’s going to take him a while to ever get over it because of his own issues. that doesn’t mean you can’t try to help him, though, so you brush his cheek with your hands before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. 

“does this make you feel better?” you ask after you pull away, but he still looks somewhat depressed, so you pull him in again before pressing your lips against his. this time, you swipe your tongue on his pout, which makes him gasp. you tease your tongue against his and electricity thrums between you two when you do it. he reciprocates your enthusiasm immediately, and before long, you’re both sucking and teasing each other until you’re out of breath.

you pull away again and rest your forehead against his. 

“better?” you question.

“a little,” he says. “m-maybe a little more?” you grin at his coquettishness, and you go in for another kiss. your tongues tangle, but you don’t stop there. your mouth travels, peppering kisses down his jaw to his sensitive neck. he shivers at the contact when you swipe your tongue over his unmarred skin before lightly sucking. he lets out a broken moan when you do it, and it reverberates throughout your entire body and straight to your core. 

“better?” you ask again.

“m-more,” he pants. 

“anything you want, baby,” you tease before your lips hungrily capture his. one of your hands snakes its way up his shirt, and he gasps when you roll his hardened nipple between your fingers. beomgyu is more sensitive than most people, as is the nature of his model, so every little touch drives him crazy. 

you seem to have noticed this, so when your other hand palms his hardened length through his sweatpants and he almost screams, you have to bite back a giggle. 

“d-don’t tease,” he begs, and you’d do anything for beomgyu, really, but not this time.

you palm him even more harshly and his breath catches in his throat. 

“more?” you ask, and he fervently nods. you oblige, sliding your hand under his waistband and teasing the sensitive skin around his length. your fingers brush against it every so often, and he involuntarily bucks every time you do. 

“c-can i touch you?” he practically implores.

“of course, my love,” you tell him as you remove your devious hands and pull your top off before unclipping your bra. 

his mouth waters when he sees you, and you can see him gulp almost comically as his big hands meet your breasts. he copies your movement from earlier, rolling your sensitive buds between his very clearly experienced fingers. you let out a contented sigh at the action, but you won’t let this be all about you, so your hand sneaks it way back down his pants. this time, you grab his girthy cock and give it a harsh tug. his actions stutter, and you smirk devilishly at how fucked out he is when the fun part hasn’t even begun. 

you pull at his waistband, and he eagerly tugs his pants and boxers off as soon you do it. he even goes as far as to tear his t-shirt off over his head before he pulls your half-naked body flush against his, falling onto the bed as he desperately kisses you for everything that you’re worth. eventually, he situates himself on top of you, rutting his thick, long cock onto your still clothed thigh. you didn’t really get a chance to get a good look at him before, but you’re able to look down at him now, and you realize his dick is gorgeous. just like every other part of him. it stands tall, blushing profusely at the tip and practically weeping precum. it’s a bit hooked, too, no doubt to elicit the most pleasure out of his clients. your pussy is drenched just thinking about how it’ll feel when it’s inside of you.

he almost rips your bottoms off of you and his mouth waters even more at the sight of your pussy, all slick and glistening in anticipation for what’s to come. 

“so gorgeous,” he whispers as he prepares to lay himself between your legs, but you hook them around his waist before he can do so. tonight will be all about him, you’ve decided, so you tug him closer and put one of his pretty nipples in your mouth, swirling your tongue on it and occasionally nipping at the sensitive skin. your other hand continues to tweak the other one before you alternate between the two, causing him to let out a low, guttural groan. 

eventually, he goes in for another kiss, all tongue and teeth and saliva, and you take one of your hands and harshly clench around the base of his throbbing cock. 

“is this what you needed, beoms?” you tease, and he nods pathetically as you tug again, harder this time, and let your hands stroke all the way up to his reddened tip. your thumb glides over his slit, and he’s seeing stars. 

“i don’t know why you’re so jealous of someone else, my love. you’re so perfect,” you praise, and his ears get even redder, somehow, in spite of the situation you’re both in.

“i — nghh — i don’t like when you’re with him,” he pants, in spite of everything you're doing to him. “only want you with me.”

“oh, baby, you have me,” you coo. “always.” and with that, you begin to feverishly jerk him off with one hand while the other returns to his nipple. his hips buck with every movement, and his eyes are screwed shut. you can tell he’s about to come before you completely take your hands off of him. 

“n-no! w-why?” he asks with a crack in his voice, watery eyes shooting open at the sudden action.

“don’t you wanna come in my pussy, instead? it’s warmer and wetter than my hand,” you ask with faux innocence with a tilt of your head, and his previously aggrieved demeanor morphs back into pure lust. 

“that’s what i thought,” you giggle as you grab his length and rub it against your slickness. he groans at the feeling, but you don’t immediately take him in, opting to instead roll your hips up, just barely letting his flared head catch against your entrance. 

“baby, please,” he whines, and with a smirk, you finally wrap your legs around his waist and line him up with your entrance. you just barely take the tip in, easing it into your pussy, before you force him out again. he gasps raggedly at how tight you are, and he’s wound up so much, he feels like he’s on the brink of exploding. he’s about to take matters into his own hands before you guide him back inside of you, and he feels your walls struggling to accommodate him. 

“s-so tight! h-how are you so tight?” he hisses, eyes reddened and face strained, but you’re far too busy with the euphoric feeling of him finally inside of you to reply. he eases in inch after throbbing inch, and it is a snug fit, indeed. he almost wonders if he’ll even fit, but though the stretch burns you, the pleasure is too great to ignore. finally, your walls slightly relax, and he’s able to completely sheath himself in you. you both moan as his tip pulsates against your cervix, and he considerately gives you time to adjust, walls contracting wildly around him, before he attempts to pull out and really begin. 

“stop,” you command before he can do so, and his eyes fill with worry at your words. 

“w-what’s wrong?” he stutters. 

“oh, nothing,” you say between pants. “i just want to see how long you can last.” 

“w-what do you —”

and you interrupt him with a kiss. he ravenously reciprocates it, and he can’t help but unconsciously thrust his hips, tapping deliciously on the deepest parts of you, but you prevent him from ever fully pulling out. you tangle one of your hands through his hair and grip it — not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make him groan into your mouth. 

“c-can i move?” he pleads, but you shake your head no. 

“why?” he whimpers, but you just smirk as you kiss him again and bite his bottom lip. 

he doesn’t know how long you two stay like that, but it’s far too long for his liking. he feels his dick swell, and you still refuse to let him move, but you teasingly scrape your fingers against his balls and it’s all he can do not to come. 

“p-please let me move, it hurts,” he cries, tears now flowing from his eyes. for once, sex is all about beomgyu and what feels good to him. he could cry just from the sentiment alone, but his current tears are the direct result of how you’re teasing him.

“and where does it hurt, baby? use your words, i know you can.” 

“h-hurts, my c-cock hurts,” he sputters out. 

“and would pounding my pussy make you feel better?” you goad, and he whines even louder at the imagery. 

“y-yes,” he sobs, and you smile as you say your next words.

“such a good boy. you can move.” and that’s all it takes, really, before he’s pulling out despite your cunt’s attempts to suck him back in, and ramming himself back inside of you again and again.

the curve of his cock hits places previously untouched, and your walls spasm around him at the sensation.

“does it feel good, beoms?” 

“s-so good,” he mumbles as drool pools off of his tongue and out of his mouth, eyes rolling to the back of his head. “so warm and t-tight.” you clench against your will at his filthy words, and it makes a strangled cry leave his throat. 

“pussy so good, baby. your pussy is the b-best,” he babbles, and your lips meet his again before your mouth travels down, sucking a blooming hickey onto his neck. he trembles at the pain that comes with the pleasure, but somehow, he still has the presence of mind to roll his skilled fingers against your clit. just a few touches, and you already feel your orgasm approaching. he can feel every spasm of yours, and it makes his dick twitch inside of you as he wildly fucks you open. 

he’s drilling into you so hard, you have to dig your fingernails into the skin of his back to keep yourself grounded. with each thrust, you feel more and more like you’re about to burst. 

“gonna come!” you whine. 

“do it, baby. c-come all over my cock,” he pleads.

“come inside? want it so bad,” you mewl.

“of course, my angel. a-anything for you,” he tells you as he tenderly brushes your hair out of your sweaty face, and he hammers himself into you at an inhuman pace as you feel the pressure in you crescendo into a searing hot orgasm. you clench even tighter around him while you come, gripping him so forcefully he can barely pull out, so his thrusts become sloppy and uncoordinated before he rams himself into you one last time and paints your inner walls with his cum.

you two stay like that for a while, just panting and basking in the feeling of closeness you feel. he presses a kiss on your forehead as he relaxes his arms and lays on top of you. you giggle at the intimacy and he finds himself sharing your laughter, your joy. 

“you’re so beautiful,” he says between breaths, nuzzling his face into your neck and sighing. “i love you.”

“i love you, too, beoms,” you tell him, and you do love him. unconditionally.

notes pt. 3: :,) :,) :,)))))) i'm very sorry if this was disappointing but i hope it was worth it! i would love to hear your thoughts or answer any questions you may have about this fic/universe. feedback is needed to a disgusting degree bc i need validation to survive #sorry

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[ceilidhtransing]

I've cropped out the username because I have absolutely no desire to start drama or make a personal “callout” or have people go harass someone or anything like that (and if you take this kind of thing as an opportunity to go and be horrible to another Tumblr user then that is terrible and you should stop), but wow, I have never seen such a clanging example of amatonormativity. I don't think OP necessarily meant it this way, I don't think they meant any harm, I don't think they're consciously arophobic or something - it's far more likely that they're simply unfamiliar with aspec issues, and I always prefer to assume good faith - but I want to talk about this post anyway because it provides a really good and explicit example of the way society just sort of... asserts the centrality of romantic attraction and entirely forgets aromantic people exist.

I do want to first say that I actually agree with the initial point this post is making. Romance as a genre is unfairly derided as some kind of “lesser” form of art, and this derision very frequently comes with generous helpings of misogyny. I totally agree that romance is not at all an unintellectual or superficial thing to write about, and it's bad that it gets treated that way and that readers and writers of romance get so often mocked and condemned. Romance is a totally valid genre and enjoying it doesn't make you vain or stupid or superficial.

HOWEVER. As an aromantic person I find the rest of the post just... I don't know, it's just so perfect as a probably unwitting expression of baked-in cultural amatonormativity. It's brilliant. It's so funny to me. I can almost do a line-by-line breakdown of the way it so completely forgets the existence of aromantic people. In fact, let's do that.

It is so fundamental to us. The issue here should be pretty obvious. The assumption that romance is some integral part of The Human Experience and that it's fundamental to All People is pretty much amatonormativity 101. It reinforces the idea that people who don't experience romantic attraction are “lacking”, forever sitting apart from The Human Experience, and possibly in some way not quite fully human, since we don't experience the thing that is apparently so fundamental to humans.

To want to love and be loved. The post seems to be incorrectly equating “romance” with “loving and being loved”, when in fact there are many people who don't experience romantic attraction yet absolutely love and want to be loved. (And of course loveless aros, aplatonic people, various folks who don't “want to love and be loved” also exist, and it's important to emphasise that this desire, just like romantic attraction, is also not necessarily integral to all people.) “Love” is not automatically “romantic love”, but this post seems to imply that romance is the only, or default, form in which love can exist.

If you don't think every great work of literature. philosophy. metaphysics. was ultimately about romance. I don't think you were paying enough attention. OK this is the line that elevated this post from “sigh, more casual amatonormativity to scroll past” to “I just have to respond to this”. Where to even begin with this assertion. This is a level of “assuming romance is central to everything humans ever do and ever create” that I've almost never encountered before. It feels like a manifestation of the tendency for alloromantic people to declare that, because romance is very central for them, it is thus central to Everything. And I'm homing in on “romance” because the post doesn't say “ultimately about love” - which would still be a reach, but less of a reach - it specifically says “ultimately about romance”. As an aromantic person who is an academic at heart and highly educated in the humanities and social sciences, the idea that my ability to understand literature and philosophy and metaphysics is somehow greatly hampered by the fact that I don't experience or relate to romantic attraction is just... what??? This idea is really very funny to me but also genuinely pretty insulting, even though I'm sure it wasn't meant that way. Not only does it feel like the summation of every patronising “oh, you couldn't possibly understand” directed to aromantic adults who are, in fact, entirely capable of understanding, but it also flattens the incredible breadth of human intellectual experience into “being about romance”. I sometimes find myself wishing that alloromantic people would peak outside the bubble of amatonormativity and realise that actually, there is an enormous swathe of human experience and intellect and creativity and expression that has nothing at all to do with romantic attraction and romantic relationships. And no, stating that, I don't know, the Book of Job is not actually about romance has nothing to do with our society's misogynistic denigration of romance as a genre; it has everything to do with the fact that the Book of Job is not actually about romance. (And if you aren't familiar with Job or for some reason don't consider it a “great work of literature”, replace with whatever other example you can think of; there are many.) It's insulting to imply that aro-spec and/or ace-spec people are somehow less able to participate in art and literature and philosophy etc because we might bring a perspective that doesn't include romance or sex at all and we're just not capable of understanding that Actually Romance And/Or Sex Is Central To Everything. It's genuinely absurd to argue that all the pinnacles of human intellectual achievement really, at their core, come back to romance, and it speaks to our very blinkered society's tendency to declare things like “everything is really about sex” or “everything is really about romance” or “everything is really about breakups” or whatever and then look at aro-spec and ace-spec people like we're aliens and go “but like... how do you even live?” Newsflash, there is so much more to life than romance and love and sex. You can live an entire, very fulfilling, very meaningful, very thoughtful life without these things being at all relevant to you. That's not to dismiss those things as minor or unimportant - they are indeed very central to a lot of people's lives, and they're not “dumb” or “shallow” or whatever - but they're not central to everyone's lives, and they're hardly The Only Things In The World.

And if your response is something along the lines of “well OK there's a tiny minority of people who don't engage with romance and/or sex, or relate to it in the same way most people do, but that doesn't mean that romance isn't still at the core of humanity, or that all the most important things don't still have romance at their heart”, imagine telling a woman that “well, you can focus on a career if you want, but what's really fundamental to being a woman is being a wife and mother - in fact, motherhood is the most important thing in the world, it's fundamental to women, it's what all women's literature is about”. Or, hell, telling a person of any gender that “parenthood” is the central pillar of all of humanity and that every great work of art ever produced is ultimately about parenthood and obviously parenthood is fundamental to everyone's being - forgetting that actually some people will never be parents, and implying that their childlessness makes them less able to understand The Human Experience. That might give you some small idea of what it's like to be an aspec person and be repeatedly told that feelings you don't experience and relationships you don't have and attractions you don't relate to and acts you don't engage in are somehow Fundamental To Humanity and are what lie at The Core Of Everything: how excluding that is, how alienating that is, how oppressively stifling that is.

Feeling that love and/or romance and/or sex are very important to your own life is totally valid, but I wish alloromantics and allosexuals could be more capable of opening their minds and imagining and empathising with an existence for which these things aren't central. Our lives aren't lesser, or emptier, or sadder, or shallower for lack of romance or sex. Our experiences are part of The Human Experience. Our perspectives on art and life and relationships and philosophy and humanity and everything else are just as valid. We are just as capable of profundity, of creativity, of insight - because romance and sex aren't “at the core” of any of these things. We are here, and we're tired of being forgotten, ignored, sidelined, dismissed, erased, talked over, talked past. It would be great if society at large actually remembered we exist once in a while, and that our lives are just as beautiful and important as anyone else's.

[megamindsecretlair]

Make Me Weak, Part 2

Pairing: Sex Therapist!Terry Richmond x Sub!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, mentions of depression, anxiety, and description of sex acts and sexual issues. Hair pulling, PIV, condom use. Power imbalance, Shy!reader. Dark!Terry. Dom!Terry, AU Terry, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some. I'm not a therapist and while I do not make light of therapy, this is purely for my own fun. Please seek real medical attention when necessary.

Summary: You followed Dr. Richmond’s instructions to the best of your ability. You spent so much time in your mind that willingly descending into your body was an experience that opened your eyes to how much you had neglected. Your second session forces you to confront more truths than what you were ready for. 

Terry reaches some conclusions of his own as he tries to shake whatever is ailing him by disappearing between Tasia’s thighs. Yet his mind is on you, on your thoughts and words. During the second session, he can’t help but push you beyond your limit.

Word Count: 5,018k

Part 1 | AO3 Link

A/N: I'n back babbyyyy. I got so inspired reading so many lovely fics. Plus the encouraging asks really helped. I had TOO much fun writing this and you will not hurt my feelings if you don't want to read this one. However, I must tag to keep my taglist updated. Forgive me, my loves. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

You

Hot steam rolled out from the shower as you set it to your desired temperature. You faced yourself in the mirror, thinking over Dr. Richmond’s words. You supposed that there was some truth to what he had told you.

Most people did start by exploring their own bodies first. It must be so easy for guys. Close the door, grab some lotion, and rub one out. Girls on the other hand…your life was constantly spent in a state of panic.

Panic that anything on your person would make your mother snap. Harsh criticisms hidden behind “just talkin’ shit” that Black people liked to hide behind. You were too sensitive to jokey-joke with when you weren’t able to reciprocate. It’s not like you could talk about your mom. It’s not like you could throw insults back in her face and tell her to take it in stride.

Panic that you could be caught or exposed at any point. You were a grown woman, yes. You were also taught to believe that you needed to act as if someone was watching. You believed there was some kind of life after all this and so wouldn’t it stand to reason that someone or something would be looking at you? Or worse, someone would come flying through your door because your family lacked boundaries? 

Panic that you didn’t know what lay on the other side of an orgasm. How would you feel? How would you look? Surely something like that changed a person. Feeling that rush of relief for the first time had to be special. Had to be amazing. Otherwise, why would anyone ever be obsessed with sex? 

Panic that you’d never reach that peak and fall over. Never feel that rush of euphoria that everyone talked about. Porn, books, friend groups. You always felt left out and you didn’t want to anymore, dammit. 

You watched yourself in the mirror as steam overtook it, inch by inch. Until you were only staring at your eyes and the disbelief written all over your face. Would this even work? Were you wasting your time? 

“I need total, focused commitment from you.”

Dr. Richmond’s sultry voice skittered along your naked skin. Goosebumps raised on your flesh from the cold air moving through the house. You would be focused. You would be committed. This was something you wanted so badly, you were fucking desperate. 

So you took deep, measured breaths using the Box method a previous therapist told you about. You inhaled for a count of four, held for four, exhaled for a count of four, and then held it for four. You repeated the process, doing a full body scan. 

You focused on your head, starting with your scalp. You focused on your forehead, feeling the tension melt away and your eyebrows start to relax. You hadn’t even realized that you had it scrunched.

You brought your attention to your eyes, unfocusing them, and allowed them to close. You repeated the process, breathing the entire time, settling down into your body when your mind wanted so badly to escape. To flee. To leave the Horrors. 

When you felt your mind drift, you didn’t chastise yourself. You continued to breathe, focusing on your breaths until you continued with your scan. Your body relaxed fraction by fraction. Your shoulders lowered from up around your neck. Aches and pains became more prominent. 

Your belly expanded and you sighed. You hadn’t even noticed how often you clenched your stomach, never allowing yourself a full breath. You always had to be on edge. Never knew where the next danger was coming from. What new fresh hell you would encounter just around the corner. 

By the time you reached your feet, you felt more relaxed than you had in a long time. Your body prickled with your newfound awareness. Steam caressed your bareskin and you quickly hopped in the shower, letting the warm water cascade across your body.

The water felt different on your body. Each droplet may as well have been a tiny earthquake, popping all over your skin and making you tingle. This…wasn’t too bad. 

You lathered up your facial scrub and gently moisturized your face, soothing the stiff areas. Your jaw popped as it loosened and you moaned from the relief. 

How long? How long have you spent outside of your body? A stranger to it? A foreigner to this vessel you carried around? Had you truly loved your body when you were so alien to it? Or had you just learned to layer on the armor and pretend? 

God, you felt like crying. With one session, Dr. Richmond already had you re-thinking your entire life. Like the answer was there in your face the entire time and you just needed him to shine a light on it. 

You rinsed your face while you grabbed a washcloth and lathered up with your favorite soap. You added body wash and then took your time trailing the washcloth around your body. Starting with your neck, you worked your way down to your chest. 

You took your time feeling the rough cloth against your smooth, watery skin. You rounded the washcloth across your nipples and they beaded under the slow torture. Oh, this was new. This was very nice. 

You were focused, letting the water act as a sound machine, lulling you into a further relaxed state. You followed the washcloth with your hand, moving over and under your areolas and nipples. You pinched your nipples and gave it a tug. You gasped from the responding tug in your pussy.

You moved on, remembering Dr. Richmond’s words about not making it sexual. But fuck, how could you not? 

Heat flushed beneath your skin that had nothing to do with the hot water on your body. You washed your back and then moved lower, skirting your throbbing pussy and washed your legs and dug the cloth between your toes. 

On the way up, your fingers glided around your mound, your hips pushing forward. Your breathing turned rapid, feeling yourself getting more and more excited. Your brain turned to mush, retreating from your actions. Like it wanted to picture something else. You shook your head, and started up with your Box breathing again.

You stopped mid-shower to reorient yourself and get yourself back into that zone of ultimate calm. If Dr. Richmond were there…

You focused on what he might say. There was no rush. There was no rulebook for this sort of thing. There was no reason to chastise yourself. There was no test to pass or box you had to check in order to achieve an orgasm. You just needed to relax, dammit. 

Slowly, achingly slow, you went back to that calm. You continued lathering up your body and then rinsed the soap off. You repeated the process, adding more soap to thoroughly wash your body. To enjoy the feel of the cloth and water and soap on your skin. On your body. 

“This is the only body you’ll ever have so it’s time to think beyond simple body maintenance. Admire your body.”

This was the only body you would ever have. It was time you stopped treating it like the enemy. 

You turned off the water and then got out. The chill air hit the water on your back and you shrieked and shivered, quickly drying off. You went through your nightly routine, taking care of your teeth, face, and deodorant. You sat down on a decorated stool in your bathroom to apply your lotion.

As instructed, you looked at your body. Every mole, every scar, every bump, and every wayward hair. Being in your body was weird to say the least. You had to disassociate to survive your childhood and you never learned to drop those defenses. Your body never realized that it wasn't at war anymore. Or perhaps it was and this was battle fatigue. You were so damn tired.

You massaged the lotion into your skin and then slipped in your panties. You pulled on an ankle bracelet you got while visiting New York once and it made you feel extra pretty, so why not. You turned on your bedside light and pulled out a notebook.

You started a new entry and wrote about the sensations and revelations you experienced. Some of it you would discuss with Dr. Richmond and some of it was never leaving your grave. It felt good to get it all out, uninterrupted.

Sometimes, venting to someone else just gave them room to talk over you. To steer the direction back to them. Brooklyn was like that. In an effort to relate, she ended up taking over the convo and made it about her situation. Then you ended up comforting her about her issue and never feeling truly heard about yours.

In a journal however, you pretended that you were just relaying it to a friend. The type of friend who allowed you to speak. To get your jumbled thoughts out without getting mad or trying overshadow you. 

Done, you collapsed against your bed as if every ounce of strength left your body. You breathed through it, allowed your body to rest for a moment. The hell kind of voo-doo shit did your therapist put you through?

Immediately, warning bells went off in your mind. Surely, you would be whisked away to some super important task around the house. Surely, your phone would ring with some awful accident you had to attend to. Surely…nothing. You were drained. You had nothing. 

You had just enough energy to put the journal up, turn off the light, and drift off to the deepest sleep of your life.

Terry

Tasia bounced like a porn star on Terry’s dick and it wasn’t doing a damn thing for him. He felt himself getting soft the more Tasia shuddered with her pleasure. At least one of them was having fun. 

Maybe he rushed this. Too intent on getting you out of his mind that he hopped immediately into Tasia’s warm heat and didn’t consider that there was no substitution. He knew it was irrational to be drawn to you so fast. After only one session. He was conflicted on that front, but it went beyond just looks. 

Your case, your assessments, your willingness to try, and your obvious smarts was a cocktail shooting through his veins and turning his body liquid. The perfect sub was dropped into his lap and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

And as a man used to getting his way in the bedroom, it stuck in his craw that he couldn’t have you. That it wasn’t your pussy that his dick disappeared inside of. Would you moan loudly? Were you shy in the bedroom? Were you enthusiastic? 

What would your mouth look like taking the full length of him? How far down could you suck him? Did that same determination translate to the bedroom?

Tasia grunted beneath him as his dick rose back to life, thoughts of you turning him harder than a brick. He could build a house with how hard he was at the moment, picturing the curves on your body. The natural handles in your waist for his big hands to wrap around. To hold.

He moaned, picturing it all so clearly. His thumbs would dig into your back. The sounds you would make. His hips jerked just thinking of pounding into you. No mercy. You weren’t some fragile flower. Your insightful thoughts were like a mirror to his own. He wanted to explore with you. And the fact that he couldn’t had him pulling Tasia’s hair back.

“Call me Dr. Richmond,” he commanded.

“Yes, D-Dr. Richmond,” Tasia moaned. It was starting to piss him off. 

“Softer,” he said.

“Yes, Dr. Richmond,” she said, bringing her voice lower, softer. It was nowhere near your voice, but it’d do for the fantasy he concocted in his head. He didn’t have time for any extra tricks tonight. He just needed to get to the other side of his nut. 

He closed his eyes and thought about your case. He wondered if you were doing as you were told. He wondered how well you would take commands in the bedroom. If he even had to give commands at all. If you’d instinctively know what he needed when he needed it. Tasia used to know that. Tasia used to have him out of breath. 

Now…she was a beautiful girl with deep mocha skin, a cute face, and wide expressive eyes. She was like a little doe in a meadow somewhere. He was attracted to the overall softness of her and of her body. The natural way she seemed to know what he needed. 

Perhaps it was him that had changed. His tastes. He was no longer interested in a casual sub-relationship. Perhaps he wanted a more permanent sub. One he could explore every single nasty fantasy with and never get bored. He was getting older, getting into his early-thirties without a significant partner.

And that was what he wanted. A partner. An equal. Someone he raced home to see or spent his days thinking about how he would break her and put her back together like a puzzle box. 

Terry groaned and came into the condom, gripping Tasia’s asscheeks for dear life. It was one of the hardest climaxes he ever experienced. His release triggered hers, causing her to fall forward as her pussy gripped his dick. 

He pulled out and immediately disposed of the condom, coming back to help clean up Tasia. 

“That was…different,” she said, using the word in place of something else. He didn’t want his reputation to slacken in that regard, but hell, this whole thing had been a mistake. He still made sure she came twice before he did, but he usually put more oomph into his sexual exploits. 

He usually had Tasia popping her pussy on his face, or contorting her like a pretzel. Now…he was just over it. Over trying to impress someone that wasn’t permanent in his life. That he couldn’t play with whenever he wanted. He was no longer excited at the prospect of making many women cum. He just wanted to make one cum over and over again. He wanted to collect each one like trophies. 

Terry grabbed Tasia’s hand and kissed the back of it. “Forgive me. Tonight should’ve probably been a gym night,” he said. He smiled for good measure, but it was a close-lipped smile.

“Oh, I’m not complaining. That dick still know how to rock my world,” she said. She stood up, pulling on her sweats and sweatshirt, and slipping on her sneakers. He sat down on the bed and watched her, not feeling an ounce of desire. 

She leaned over and grabbed his chin, making him look up at her. “You take care of yourself and whatever or whoever got you in this funk. And if you need more relief, you know my number,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with another close-lipped smile. Tasia had been one of his longest play partners, he’d be sorry to see her go. She smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek, showing herself out. 

Terry sat in his fancy bedroom in his fancy house, staring at the empty archway Tasia disappeared through. His mind and body told him that he was ready for something more. Something tangible. Something he could hold and never let go. He only hoped he found it soon.

You

You clutched your journal to your chest as you sat in Dr. Richmond’s office. Nothing about it had changed except the man himself. He chose to wear a cream colored outfit. A soft, oatmeal colored sweater and khaki pants with white sneakers. His gold rimmed glasses flashed every so often from the light overhead and you couldn’t help catching every single thing about him. If only to distract you from your racing thoughts.

It was one thing to live in your body when you were in the comfort of your own bathroom. Your mind escaped once more, retreated to the safest place you knew. Your knee bounced with nervousness. 

“You don’t have to share if you don’t want to. This is a safe space. It’s your space. You get to decide what we do here,” he said. 

You closed your eyes to the sound of his voice. If he wasn’t so damn helpful, you’d ask for someone else. Literally, anyone else. But he was the first therapist to give you a glimpse of the other side. You wanted that more than you were embarrassed.

“No, I want to share. I need to share,” you said. You licked your lips and then cracked open your journal. You skimmed over things you didn’t want to reveal just yet. Too embarrassing for a second meeting, of course.

“I think…I think my mind is safer. I am constantly on alert that I’m “doing the right thing”, as opposed to what actually makes me happy,” you said. 

When you didn’t say anything, Terry leaned back in his seat. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing the golden brown of his forearms. Your mind emptied of any other thought until he cleared his throat. “Can you expand on that?” 

You looked up into his eyes before heat rushed to your ears. You looked back at your journal, focusing on that rather than his lush, pink lips. 

You told him more about how you reached this conclusion. That there was a standard for being Black that you never quite achieved. That at any moment, multiple mobs of people were coming for your Black card. Or, you were constantly trying to over-achieve at school. You had to work twice as hard, had to be the smartest in the class, because if you came home with a B, your mom went on a long rant about being stupid and never achieving anything real in life. Or how everyone praised you at work for going above and beyond and then got mad when you couldn’t sustain it. You were constantly on the lookout for someone else’s standard.

“I have so many fucking voices in my ear, telling me to do this or do that. And I fucking hate it. Which is wild considering that that’s what I seek in a sexual partner,” you said.

Dr. Richmond smiled and nodded. “Your mind is trying to re-contextualize your upbringing. Being submissive is actually about putting yourself in the position of power. A dom is only as good as how well he treats his sub. It’s about the ultimate act of trust on the submissive’s part,” he explained.

“Yes! And how can I trust that someone isn’t going to…take what I say or want and abuse that or make fun of me for it?” You asked. You played with the corner of your journal, not willing to look at Dr. Richmond. You didn’t need to see the pathetic pity in his steel blue eyes. 

“You have to stand resolute in what you want. You have to recognize that pleasure and sex is about give and take. Trust and acceptance. The right partner isn’t going to make fun of you, abuse you, or rush you,” he said. 

You sighed and leaned back on the brown sofa. You felt like you were chasing a unicorn. What kind of guy was willing to be dominant and care about your needs? Reassure you when you needed and took control when your body sent massive panicked waves at him? Took care of the trust you were placing in him to help you relax and cum? While also being physically attractive to you and have you be attracted to him; not a chubby chaser, not a creep, and not an abuser? 

It was impossible. Hopeless.  

“If you’re comfortable, tell me more about what you found,” he said.

You took your mind off of your dream mystery man. When the fuck was it going to be your turn? 

You scanned your journal once more, noting the sensations about actually living inside your body. “I think when I feel an orgasm approaching, I get scared. And that could be part of why I’m blocking it, but even when I’m alone, I don’t know what it feels like. Or…”

“Or…?” Dr. Richmond prompted. 

You grimaced. Fuck, this was so hard to put into words. Too hard to expose yourself like this. But did you want to reach your sixties, seventies, never having a true orgasm? Never finding your way to actual release? 

“Or, there’s no way to control the orgasm,” you said.

Dr. Richmond nodded. “The goal isn’t to control it, you know,” he said. 

“I know!” You groaned and stood up. You thought better on your feet. Or maybe when you had something to do, you were better able to regulate the jumble of emotions inside of you. No wonder your emotions were all over the place. You spent too long disassociating, too long in your mind and not enough in your body. 

“What benefit do you get from being in control all the time?” The scratch of his pen on the notebook drew your attention to him. To his pretty face, dark eyelashes, and push lips. You watched as he wrote in his notebook. Watched the lines and planes of his gorgeous face. His short curled afro. 

“If I’m in control, if I never look weak or stupid or incompetent, then I win. I win at life. And all my bullies, from school to home are all wrong. There’s nothing wrong with me because I know what to do. I know what to say. I’m not an alien,” you said, taking a deep breath at the revelation.

Whatever your insurance company was paying him, they needed to double it. You admitted things you never had in the past. Your previous therapists attacked your problem sex first, focusing on different methods you could try. Some wanted you to describe, in detail, whatever you did to get yourself off. Safe to say they weren’t practicing ever again. 

“Do you believe there’s something wrong with you?” He asked. He leaned back in his seat, giving you an unflinching stare. His face gave away nothing, revealed nothing, as you thought through his question. 

“All the fucking time. Why else do friends keep leaving me? Or guys don’t want me? Or my mom is…my mom,” you said. 

“Have you considered that you aren’t the problem?” He asked.

“How could I not be? I’m the only common denominator,” you said. You flopped back onto the couch but it wasn’t that soft. It thudded under your weight and you took a deep breath. Fuck, you wanted to cry. Tears pricked your eyes, turning them hot and itchy. You refused to cry in front of this man. 

This strange, quiet man who seemed to read you like one of the many books on his bookshelf. No wonder he had so many degrees. He could drag a full confession from a mute. 

“That may be true. But, bear with me, consider that you aren’t the problem. If you take yourself out of the equation, what are you left with?” He asked. He leaned forward on his desk and the sudden intensity of the question made your mind blank.

You had…nothing. No explanation, no back up. You were used to making yourself the problem. The issue had to be you. If it wasn’t you…

You shrugged your shoulders and looked away from him. The silence stretched on, so quiet you could hear the quiet tick of the clock on the wall. 

“Don’t shy away now, dig into it. If it’s not you, then…?” Dr. Richmond prompted. 

The question only seemed to make you clamp up. Your tongue swelled. Your throat constricted. If it wasn’t you, then what? Everyone was incapable of giving you what you wanted? Everyone just had an agenda against you? Please, that was narcissistic as hell. 

Dr. Richmond stood up from his desk and took off his glasses. He pulled out a drawer and retrieved a glass cleaner cloth. He cleaned his glasses and walked around the front of his desk.

“Consider, for a moment, that other people have deficiencies as well. That people congregate in groups because biologically, it’s safer. We seek groups to be in and when we can’t find one, we tend to think that we’re the problem. That we are outcasts, getting left out to defend ourselves. But all that means is that we haven’t found our group yet. You’re trying to fit a round peg into a square hole. You don’t belong with the squares, so no, you won’t fit in with them. 

“The same goes for sex. Everybody has their preferences. People have their kinks, their needs. When those needs aren’t meant, society teaches us to look at our own deficiencies rather than someone else’s. Perhaps the man you need sexually is far different from the men you take to bed,” he said. He waved around his glasses as he spoke, drawing attention to his massive hands. 

Seriously, they were huge. Like two lion paws that could strike down someone with one hit. He held his glasses by the frame, waving it around delicately as he spoke. You were still paying attention to his words, but fuck…he was unreal. 

“But how do I find the man that I need sexually?” You asked.

Terry

Terry inwardly groaned as you asked him that. Plenty of suggestions came to mind, each too crass to suggest. How could he tell you to go into another man’s arms? How could he send you to another man to unleash that hidden hellcat within you and he wouldn’t get to experience it? 

He needed to end this. End this before it even began. He placed his glasses back on his face and crossed a line that he never thought he would. “I think we have more work to do to adjust the way you think about sex before we get into how you attract what you’re seeking. In fact, I’d suggest you abstain from sex until we get deeper into this,” he said.

“Abstain?” You snorted and he fought a smile. Your face showed absolute disgust, like the mere thought was abhorrent. 

“Abstain. From what you’ve told me and what’s in your file, you jumped from overcoming your initial thoughts and reluctance about sex right to jumping into bed. Without really, truly exploring yourself first. Kids explore their bodies all the time right? They grow conscious of themselves and start thinking about hey, my equipment is different from someone else’s equipment,” he said.

You couldn’t help but giggle and it caused him to smirk in return. Yes, it was silly. Talking about sex was silly. But it was true. “And as you start to notice people that you’re attracted to, you start to grow conscious of hormones in your system. Brain chemistry. All the fun stuff that goes into attraction. You start to touch yourself more, explore your preferences through porn or books or experimentation.”

You cringed when he brought up experimentation. He tilted his head. “Did you go through an experimentation phase?” He asked.

You closed your eyes and sighed as if it were the last question you wanted to answer. You completely fascinated him. He had no idea what would come out of your mouth next. How you would respond to certain questions or ideas. 

He snuck a glance at the clock, he was nearing the end of the session. He flexed his jaw. This was so damn irritating. By the time you were willing to open up, it was time to end it. He wished he could carve out a month of sessions to get you to lower your defenses and let him inside. 

“No? I grew up in the wrong generation. All everyone thought about was sex and while I did too, no one was checking for the fat Black nerds unless it was a prank. And I saw everything as a prank. I was always getting pointed at, made fun of, stared at. Jesus, being exposed fucking sucks! So, no, I didn’t experiment. There was no one to fucking experiment with. 

“And it wasn’t like I could go ten feet from my mom without her up my ass about where I was going. Claiming she just didn’t want me to get snatched when all she really wanted was just to control me. To not let me end up like her. Young and pregnant,” you practically yelled, spewing way more vitriol than he expected.

He figured it was a sore spot for you by the way you grimaced, but he hadn’t been expecting…that. Again, he balled his fists thinking of every person that ever let you down. Every person that was supposed to uplift you, guide you, help you, all dropped the ball in teaching you about self love.

Every experience every kid was supposed to have was denied to you. Instead of being asked out with interest, with sincerity, boys treated it like a prank. He was wild in his youth, he wasn’t always nice to people, or he went through life like a little gremlin. But he liked to think he mellowed somewhat in high school. Treating everyone with respect. From the nerds to the jocks. He didn’t know what not trusting people’s words felt like. Like everything that someone said came laced with poisoned barbs ready to sting. 

“This is so fucking stupid,” you whispered. Your lip trembled but no tears fell down your face. 

Fuck, even now you were trying to hold everything in. Control a natural response to something painful. “When was the last time you cried?” Terry asked.

You stood up and snatched your purse and journal from the couch. “Session’s up, right?” You asked. You avoided looking at him as you rushed to the exit. The faux glass door clanged against the wall as you threw open the door and left, steps echoing on the linoleum flooring. 

He stared at the door as it lazily swung back and he wondered. And he pondered. 

Wheww, need more? The Secret Terry Richmond Files | Part 1

Taglist: You guys, ya'll gon make me cry with this taglist! Thank you!

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@thegreatlibraryofalex @amyhennessyhouse @hihellogoodbyebruh @becauseimswagman1

[moonstruckme]

Heyyyy so i was hoping maybe you could write some james or poly marauders x fem reader with really intense ocd and compulsions? Ive just been struggling lately and i feel like the boys might help. If not its totally fine i understand certain things are hard to write! Youre doing great! Much love 🩷

Hi, thank you for requesting angel!

cw: depictions of ocd, specifically hand washing compulsions and obsessive thoughts/seeking reassurance, I know ocd is different for every person and I'm not sure what constitutes "intense" for you or anyone else but I based this on some of the experiences of someone I know with ocd so I hope it's alright <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

“You’re getting hands like an old woman’s,” Sirius teases, taking his time as he smooths lotion into the crevices of your palm and the spaces between your fingers. You’re facing each other on the couch, your legs crossed underneath you while Remus reads in the armchair beside. “You’re going to be looking like my old bird soon.”

“Mean,” you murmur teasingly, doing your best to ignore the growing anxiety in your chest. 

“I’ve never said I didn’t like older women,” he hums. You laugh, and Sirius grins, his goal achieved. “You’re still gorgeous, all of you.” 

You want to be flattered, but your heart twinges in distress when he lifts your moisturized fingers to his mouth, kissing your knuckles. 

“What?” Sirius asks, though you can tell by his face that he has a sense of what you’re thinking—that you know, you know, you’ve only just washed your hands, but you’re terrified now he’s going to catch something because of you. “I can kiss my girl, can’t I?” He keeps his voice light, but his eyes are soft. “Can I?”

You nod, shoving the worst of your worries down as Sirius leans closer, pressing a pillowy soft kiss to your lips. 

“Everything’s just fine,” he murmurs. “I love you, you know that?” 

You try to let your thoughts go all soft and melty, but they keep solidifying, crystal clear and insistent and at the very front of your consciousness. 

“I love you, too,” you tell him. “Um, Sirius?” 

“Yeah, sweetness.” 

“Did you wash your hands when you came home yesterday?” 

Sirius hesitates. 

You hear a quiet rustling, and look over to see Remus lowering his book. “Dove,” he says, “we agreed we’d only reassure you the first time you asked. Sirius already answered your question yesterday.” 

“I know.” You look down at your hands. “Sorry, I’m just not sure if I’m remembering it right. You did, right?” 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Remus says gently, again avoiding giving you an answer. “We just don’t want to make things worse for you.” 

You push out a breath. “Yeah. I’m sorry,” you tell Sirius, “I trust you.” 

The tension melts from his expression. He tsks at you, bumping your knee with his. “Would you stop that? What’d he just say?” Your lips give a little tug, and Sirius gives you a soft look. “I know you do, gorgeous. It’s not really you talking, is it?” 

He means your disorder. Sirius likes to talk about it the same way he talks about Remus’ pain, as though they’re things separate from you that just like to loiter around and bully his loved ones. It’s comforting, knowing he never holds your compulsions against you because he doesn’t think of them as you at all. You try to give him a better smile, but Sirius sees right through it. Gray eyes narrow on yours. 

“What is it?” 

“I feel like I need to wash them again,” you confess. 

He frowns, lips pulling to one side. “You don’t, though, baby.” 

“I know,” you say, agonized. 

“Try not to, okay?” 

“It’s hurting you to do it so often, sweetheart,” Remus reasons. “Don’t your hands feel raw?” 

“Yeah,” you murmur. But the feeling of griminess is worse. You tuck your lip between your teeth, face hot with shame and emotion. 

“Take a breath.” Remus’ voice is soothing. “We’re all okay, aren’t we? Everything’s going to be fine.” 

“How do you know?” you ask, your frustration with yourself spilling over into frustration with your boyfriends. 

“Hey.” Sirius’ tone isn’t chastising but imploring. He smooths his hands over yours, and you manage not to pull them away for fear of contaminating him. “What if we have a hug instead, yeah?” 

You take the offer, feeling conflicted and all wrong but desperate for comfort. You’re extremely conscious of his hands where they come to rest on your lower and mid back and yours so near his face where your arms are wrapped around his neck, but Sirius somehow knows what you need, squeezing you tight until the worst of your worries squish out of you. They’re eclipsed by the feeling of being cared for.

“I know, sweetheart,” he hums. “I know this is hard for you, but we’re only trying to help. You know we love you, right?” 

You breathe out. “Yeah.” 

Sirius gives you a little squeeze, teasing now. “You sure? It doesn’t feel like you do. Remus, do you think she gets it?” 

“I think she might know that we love her,” Remus says placidly, turning his page, “but likely not how much.” 

“Mm. Hear that?” One hand sneaks to your side, and the next squeeze makes you gasp out a laugh, ticklish. “You don’t get it.” 

“No, I do! I do!” 

“S’not your fault, dove.” Remus is watching you from the corner of his eye, smiling faintly. “It’s more love than most people could conceptualize.” 

“Oh.” You’re giggling now. “So you guys are just extra special? I love you way more than—ah!”

“Cruel, unfounded claims,” Sirius accuses, digging his fingers into your side. 

You reach for his hand, but you’re too weak with laughter to wrestle it away. “You don’t even know what I was going to say!”

“Couldn’t let you finish,” he says simply. “Sounded like the beginnings of blasphemy.” 

“Good lord,” says James. You didn’t hear him come in, but he’s sweaty and breathing hard from having just finished his run. “By the screaming coming from in here I thought we were under attack.” 

“What would you have done if we were?” Remus asks curiously. 

“Well, I…I was running in here to see what happened. I’d have fought them off, I suppose.” 

Remus smiles down at his book, and Sirius pats James’ midsection fondly. “Good thing it’s never come to that, darling.” 

James stares at him. “And how am I meant to take that?” 

“I think you’d do very well in a fight, Jamie,” you say, taking the opportunity to slip out of Sirius’ grasp. 

James turns to you, a smile spreading over his face. “I think so, too. Thanks, lovie.” He bends towards you. You think to take his face in your hands, but remember your fears at the last second, bringing them down to your sides. If any of the boys notice, they don’t mention. 

“Have they victimized you, my lovely girl?” James asks between kisses. “No one’s ever as nice to you when I’m gone, are they?” 

“I resent that.” Sirius pokes your side, making you giggle and bend away from him. “Ever thought that maybe she likes when I’m not nice to her?” 

“Not really, no,” says James, flopping down onto the couch. 

You’re holding your hands away from you, hesitant to touch the couch or your skin or anything until you feel like they’re clean. Sirius really had managed to distract you for a while, but now your anxiety is back in full force, your heart in your throat and dread a swirling mass in your gut. 

When you look up, Remus is watching you. 

“Maybe we should get out of the house,” he suggests. “We could go for a walk. Does that sound okay, sweetheart?” 

“Um…” It makes your heartbeat ratchet just to think about, the barrier of time and physical space between you and the next time you’ll actually be able to wash your hands. But you know that’s the point. 

“That’s a great idea.” James catches on quickly, more than familiar with your compulsions. He takes your hand in his easily, encouraging you up from the couch. “It’s a beautiful day out. Lots of leaves on the ground, you’ll love it.” 

You smile. You think that you must be easy to please, because leaves to crunch underneath your shoes does make the idea of a walk sound more enticing. 

“But you only just got in,” you say. 

“I could use a cooldown,” James says easily. “I came in here thinking my sweethearts were under attack, my heart rate hasn’t had a chance to come down.” 

“I feel like it’s important to note,” says Sirius, grabbing his scarf and your hat from the coat closet, “that there were two other men here in the house when we were under this alleged attack. You weren’t our only hope.” 

“I feel like it’s important to note that that’s sexist,” you say.

“Very,” James agrees, swiping your hat from Sirius and putting it on for you. “I’d think our best defenders would be the ones who spend the most time working out.” 

“Mm. Not Sirius, then.” 

“Certainly not.” 

A hand fists in the back of your shirt, and you choke on a gasp as Sirius yanks you back to his side. He wraps an arm securely around your waist. “Remus,” he says smoothly, “did y/n look like she was having a very easy time fighting me off a couple of minutes ago?” 

“I’m staying out of this one,” Remus says as he shrugs on his coat, but his tongue is poking into his cheek. You find you can’t help smiling, either.

[lizardlicks]

You know that walrus vs fairies thing is a really good example of suspension of disbelief and how poor writing can immediately ruin it.

Further, it's a good example of how propaganda and indoctrination can be broken.

Check this out: if you are asked to believe something by a person who presents themselves as an authority about a subject in which you have little to no experience, you have no ground to question them on. Even if it seems fake, human brains are really good about going, "that doesn't sound right, but I don't know enough about [thing] to dispute that." We have to specifically train ourselves to stop and go do our own research. And if it's a big, complicated topic which you're brand new to, that's really intimidating!

This is a feature rather than a bug of being a social species. Collectively, we store far more knowledge than anyone if us could store individually. It means that even if you have never seen a walrus in your life, you can be reasonably confident that you still "know" that they're large, tusked, aquatic mammals which tend to favor colder water and they don't really go farther inland than a couple miles.

It also means that you are primed to accept new information on a subject with which you have little to no direct experience: e.g. fairies are real, you just didn't know that until now.

Propaganda and indoctrination work because they're presented as authoritative sources on subjects that the target audience doesn't have much experience with. That also means those can be combatted by research and first hand experience. Multiple times I've seen posts from people who climbed out of the weeds of Q Anon because one of those secret info drops started making claims about subjects that the person was something of an expert in: electricity, infrastructure, medicine, engineering.

It's also why you can get so into reading a great fantasy or sci-fi novel that has otherwise stellar writing and world crafting, then suddenly get kicked right out of it again when the author, say, has a character fall into a convenient, non-magical coma for a month, or they start walking on a bad fracture after a couple of days without some fancy technological assistance. You have a body, and you might not be a doctor, but you can know enough to understand that's not how bodies generally work, and if the author has not previously established that their characters aren't human and work totally differently, a pall of doubt and frustration taints everything that comes there after.

Idk where I'm going with this. I just think it's neat! Definitely something to keep in mind when trying to effectively communicate with people, regardless of if you're trying to educate or simply entertain.

[sansaorgana]

SER GWAYNE HIGHTOWER NSFW ALPHABET

PAIRING — Ser Gwayne Hightower x fem!Reader

AUTHOR’S NOTE — When I tell you that the brainrot is real, then I tell you that the brainrot is real! By the way, this is the first time I have ever written any "alphabet" for any character! 🙊🙈🙉 The Reader here is Gwayne's wife because that was the most comfortable for me to write. I'm lucky I don't have any uni classes or a job at the moment, so I can simply girlrot and produce content. 💀 Like a normal, sane person would do... Right?!

WORD COUNT — 2,520

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

A = AFTERCARE (what they’re like after sex)

If you had sex in your chambers and he’s not in a hurry to go somewhere, then Gwayne keeps you close, rubs your back and kisses your forehead. He might just stare at the fireplace in silence or listen to you talk about something. Or he might join you in court gossip because I strongly believe Gwayne would love to engage in such activities with his Lady Wife. But if you had sex in a hurry or outside your chambers, then he still would want to show some affection to you, even if it’s just a kiss on the forehead.

B = BODY PART (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Gwayne loves the eyes. His and yours. He thinks so much is stored in them and he keeps his gaze intensely on you to know without words what you’re feeling and what you’re thinking. Exchanging side-eyes together is one of your love languages whenever you’re in public, so in private the eyes also matter the most. He loves to get lost in yours and smirk at how they get hazy when he’s fucking you. But to answer THE question – asked if he prefers your ass or your tits, Gwayne would look at you as if you were insane before answering: “both”.

C = CUM (anything to do with cum, basically)

Considering the fact you are married and he is the eldest of Otto’s sons and his heir, he needs his own heirs as well. He needs boys to carry on The Hightower surname and girls to create powerful alliances through marriage. Therefore, he usually cums deep inside of you and stays still for a while, making sure the seed takes. However, I don’t think he would push his Lady Wife to have one child after another, so in those periods of times when you are not trying for another little Lord or Lady Hightower, he enjoys cumming on your soft thighs or belly. He likes to see his cum on you that marks you as his and his only. 

D = DIRTY SECRET (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I totally think he sometimes wonders how it would be like to sleep with another man. Maybe he even has such experience from his past when he was younger, before meeting you. Either way, I don’t think he’d share it with his Lady Wife eagerly considering the social norms and all that.

E = EXPERIENCE (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

I would say Gwayne’s pretty experienced. Perhaps not as much as those Lords and Knights who spend every night in the brothels but he had his adventures there when he was younger like men back then usually did. He probably also had some affairs with maids or young ladies at the court but without any serious intentions since he knew that one day he would have to marry a woman his father chooses for him.

F = FAVOURITE POSITION (this goes without saying)

Missionary because he wants to see your eyes for the reasons described above. But he also loves to fuck you from behind in the early mornings when you’re his little spoon and he bites on your shoulder and peppers your jaw with kisses as he thrusts into you. I don’t think he feels the need to be in control all the time, so he enjoys it when you ride him and use his cock for your own pleasure. During the quickies, he likes it when you’re trapped between his body and the wall with your skirts pulled up and he gets to fuck you standing up – showing off his strength.

G = GOOFY (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Gwayne can be serious when he’s very focused on fucking you properly but most of the time he loves to laugh here and there. He even makes teasing comments that make your eyes roll and chuckle. I wouldn’t call him goofy but he just treats sex like fun.

H = HAIR (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s not very hairy overall and his body hair is light and thin (have you seen his eyelashes?). He is a very clean man as well.

I = INTIMACY (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Gwayne can be very romantic to his Lady Wife. He holds your hand to intertwine your fingers together and squeeze them while making love to you or eating you out. He kisses you all over your face and whispers sweet things and praises while you take his cock and he definitely likes to surprise you with a romantic bath once in a while, so you remember that he still cherishes and loves you after all the years of marriage.

J = JACK OFF (masturbation headcanon)

Gwayne doesn’t do it often because now, when he’s married, he simply doesn’t need to. When he’s away from you it’s usually because of the important duties that keep him too occupied to think about sex anyway. But when he occasionally jerks off, he thinks of you and remembers all the fun times you shared together.

K = KINK (one or more of their kinks)

Dirty talk and I mean it. That man’s mouth just never shuts. I also think he is obsessed with eating pussy. He worships it and it doesn’t matter how – he wants you to sit on his face but he also loves to get on his knees and bury his face between your legs underneath all the folds of your dresses. He’s eating you out like there’s no tomorrow. Another thing that spurs him on is choking – he loves to squeeze your throat slightly but he also loves it when you do that to him when you’re in control. It increases the pleasure and releases the tension he often feels due to all the responsibilities placed upon his shoulders. Since he is focused on producing heirs with you, he also has a slight breeding kink.

L = LOCATION (favourite places to do the do)

His favourite place is your chambers because you can get as loud as you want there and fuck in any position you want to but he loves a risky quickie here and there all around the castle as well. Gwayne is also a fan of having sex in the bath, he loves it when you ride him there and the water splashes out onto the floor and your tits bounce right in front of his face. After the tournament he might take you right there, in his tent after his squire has helped him to get rid of his armour. He also has a thing for fucking you in places that are reserved for the servants – in the stables, in the kitchens… If someone sees you… Then, so what? They are only servants anyway and he’s not ashamed of the fact he’s fucking his Lady Wife properly. Let them talk.

M = MOTIVATION (what turns them on, gets them going)

When you tease him – with slight bickering or a revealing gown. That makes him all riled up and all he can think of is to put you in your place and claim you. But also when he watches you being adorable with your children, he instantly wants to make another one with you – when you sit with a babe on your lap, telling them stories or showing them new things. When you’re spending time with your daughters in the nursery, playing with dolls together. Or when he sees you encouraging your sons during the sword training because you are such a devoted mother that you try to show up during those practices once in a while as well, even though it is usually not something that Lady Mothers care about. Another thing that makes him desperate for you is when you show loyalty to him and his house. When, during the events, you straighten your back, raise your chin high and defend him during an argument with other Lords or you make a remark about The Hightowers being such a powerful family… He just wants to carry you to your chambers and show you how much he appreciates a loyal wife like you.

N = NO (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Gwayne would never force you into anything. You are his Lady Wife and he wants you to feel comfortable and safe around him. One of his duties is to take care of you and he treats that oath seriously. He might get whiny when you say no to something (he’s spoiled, after all) but never pushy.

O = ORAL (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Like I have described earlier – he is obsessed with eating pussy and he’s doing it like a starved dog. But it doesn’t mean he doesn’t like to receive. He likes it very much and when you are eager to do it on your own, then it’s even better and it makes him smug. It especially drives him wild when you swallow his cum or choke and gag on his cock.

P = PACE (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on the context and occasion. Gwayne can be fast and rough – pulling your hair and spanking your ass while he’s thrusting into you and claiming you. But he can also be slow and sensual – holding your hands and covering your face with tiny little kisses while rocking you on his cock. He’s a versatile man.

Q = QUICKIE (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Like I have said before, he likes to take you in the halls, kitchens, stables, tents… But it’s not like he’s always like that – it’s only sometimes when he’s very desperate for you or simply just for fun and for some additional risk that makes it more exciting and keeps your sex life more interesting despite all the years of marriage.

R = RISK (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Gwayne likes to risk getting caught by the servants because it makes him smug and cocky. And when it comes to trying new things, he likes to experiment a little with you. Like, when some of his friends tell him about their exciting adventures in the brothels and a new, fun position, Gwayne will want to try it out with you later – but only if you agree to that. Same to you – if you asked him about trying out something new that you have read about in some dirty book or heard from one of your friends, he will most likely agree. But it can’t be anything too dangerous because he wants sex to be fun for the both of you.

S = STAMINA (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

No more than two rounds I’d say, but he can make them last a long time and he certainly enjoys making you cum multiple times during them as he watches you with a smug grin on his face, getting drunk on all your facial expressions and the sounds that you make for him while you reach your peaks.

T = TOYS (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I’m not sure if they have any sex toys in Westeros but, to be honest, I think he would be willing to try out those not very extreme ones. After all, sex is supposed to be fun for you, so if something can make it even better, then why not? Gwayne also doesn’t seem to be a man who gets jealous over such things because he’s very confident about himself and his skills.

U = UNFAIR (how much they like to tease)

It’s Ser Gwayne Hightower, of course he likes to tease. And it’s bringing him twisted pleasure to do so. Sometimes, when he has time and a mood for that, he might tease you for a few days with a smirk and little touches here and there, dirty words whispered into your ear… Until you’re a whiny, begging mess. That is good for his ego and he gets to tease you about being needy for him.

V = VOLUME (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Well, his mouth never shuts as he either talks dirty to you or makes some comments to make you chuckle. When it comes to moaning – he does that but not very loud. He is a much bigger fan of the sounds that you make and when he imagines others hearing how good he’s pleasuring his Lady Wife, he would rather them to hear you than him.

W = WILD CARD (a random headcanon for the character)

Whenever you’re having a babe and your breasts swell with milk, Gwayne keeps staring at them all the time and he always makes excuses to touch them or suck on them. He says it’s to help you release the pressure but he actually enjoys it more than he’d like to admit it. He loves to see your nipples leaking out with milk and he loves the sweet taste of it. There’s just something about you being a mother to his children that really turns him on.

X = X–RAY (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

His cock is slightly bigger than average – nothing spectacular but also nothing he’d feel ashamed of or insecure about. He’s long and thick enough to make you cum a multiple times and you always need a moment to adjust to his size and it makes him feel pretty proud.

Y = YEARNING (how high is their sex drive?)

It depends on how busy he is. When he has many responsibilities, then he might settle down for once or twice a week in the evening or early morning, just to release some tension. But when he’s got more free time, he would want to have sex with you every day – only if you are in the mood as well, of course. He’s trying not to neglect your needs even when he’s busy, though.

Z = ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

If it’s sex in the evening, he would fall asleep after a while of caressing your back or talking. He wouldn’t doze off immediately because he loves to feel your head on his chest as he plays with your hair in silence or to gossip with you. He often discusses important matters with you after sex as well – asking you for advice when it comes to ruling over Oldtown and things like that. And only after this little ritual, he allows himself to fall asleep with you in his arms. But if you had sex during the day – especially a quickie – then he’s not falling asleep. I don’t think he takes naps during the day, although sometimes he would want to just cuddle up with you and rest. However, his duties are too many.

MASTERLIST

[bloodlust-1]

Would you be okay with writing something with a Tav who is a virgin that is kind of scared of sex but still desires Astarion?

Totally! I imagine Astarion to be completely shocked, but relieved. Why? Tav would never have to experience the sexual abuse he had. Some lovey-dovey Astarion, anyone?

Hope this is good enough anon! <3

˚ ° A purity like yours ° ˚ part 1

Astarion x fem Tav — fluff, Explicit 18+

Summary: Tav has a secret that’s been heavy on her heart. Her virginity was a topic she ran away from, but it’s time for Astarion to know the truth.

Notes: I LOVE making companions in love, it makes me whelm all up inside🥹 Not exactly smut, but talks of explicit topics. Part 2

Tav sat quietly, her eyes focused on the floor as Astarion licked the last of her blood from his lips. Tav was unusually silent and he wasn't sure what was bothering her so much of lately.

He paused and narrowed his eyes, "You're rather quiet this feeding, my sweet. Is something wrong?"

Tav lifted her head slightly and looked up at Astarion. "I'm just...thinking," she said softly.

To Astarion, Tav was always thinking of lately. Especially when he's done feeding from her. He was confused if maybe he had done anything wrong? Was she having any doubts about their relationship?

Astarion brushed Tav's hair away from her eyes and smiled. "About what?"

Tav looked away again, her brows furrowed in concentration. "Just...us, and our intimacy." She shook her head, pushing away the thoughts. "It doesn't matter. I'm alright."

Astarion cupped Tav's face in his hands and looked into her eyes. "It does matter. Tell me, what's wrong?"

Tav sighed. "I feel so...embarrassed." She mustered any courage to finally look at him, her eyes glistening. "I feel like there should be something more to this. W-When you feed from me, I mean."

Astarion tilted his head confused, "You're embarrassed because you want to do something more?"

Admittingly he was blank. But when Tav opened her mouth his eyes widened in - anticipation. Even his ears pointed up with shock.

Tav didn't know which stung more, the fresh punctures on her neck or her confession.

"I just want to make you feel good and I want to have sex with you but-"

Tav bit down on her lower lip, she could feel the heat running into her eyes as her vision became blurry. "I just don't know how...I've never had sex before."

Tav finally allowed the emotions that had been building up inside her to come pouring out. She felt a deep sense of relief, but at the same time, a wave of shame washed over her. She felt embarrassed for even having to ask Astarion for sex, feeling naive and inexperienced.

At the same time, Tav felt so inadequate when it came to physical intimacy; Astarion was the only one who had any sort of skill in that area. And it made her feel so small.

Astarion's expression softened as he realized what Tav had been hiding from him. "...No -...you?"

Tav wiped away the single tear, nodding.

Astarion felt his face burning as his heart raced and his palms grew sweaty. Tav was absolutely stunning and he had been wondering why she had grown so flustered and shy when her body trembled and begged for him. Now it all made sense.

"But..." Astarion cut himself short in the midst of his thoughts, overwhelmed by the magnitude of her offer.

He was taken aback by her beauty, her inexperience, and her willingness to give him something so special, something so treasured and valuable.

But Astarion felt undeserving - he couldn't help but feel guilty. He knew she deserved much better and that her virginity was too precious to give to someone like him.

He chuckled softly and scratched the side of his head, "I am the worst person for this." Meaningful sex? This was completely foreign to him. How could she even ask him that? Of course, he wanted her more than anything.

He leaned over and with the pad of his thumb, he wiped away Tav's damped cheek, "Now, now, little love." His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer until she sat on his lap. "You should not feel ashamed of something like this. I mean, look at me."

Astarion's ears lowered in shame as he half smiled, "I can't remember half the people who used my body. I wish I knew a purity like yours." He rested his head on Tav's shoulder, "I'm just relieved you will never feel what I've felt."

Astarion felt protective towards Tav more than ever, he wanted to keep her safe. No harm would come to her as long as he was there to watch over.

Tav threaded her fingers between his white curls, sniffling away the embarrassment, "I want to feel you in every way possible, even if you think you're unworthy." Her lips connected with the skin of his forehead. "You were always special to me, Astarion."

He shifted his head up, catching the glisten in Tav's eyes. She chose him and still continues to each day. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?" He scuffed sarcastically before pulling Tav into a kiss.

His hands gently caressed her spine down into her back dimples. Astarion felt Tav shudder under his hold. She started to breathe heavily into the kiss, "I want you to know how much I love you..." Her eyes locked with his.

"Darling, you don't need to prove yourself with your body." The tension around them went soft and he held tightly onto her body, laying them both down against Tav's bedding.

Astarion cuddled Tav closely against his chest in an embrace. "On a perfect night, when the sky is clear and the environment is forgiving, I will take you into me and make you feel things you've never felt before. Ecstasy, my love."

"What if I don't know what to do?" Tav nervously glanced up at Astarion, who was quietly gazing out into the distance while gently stroking her hair. He was trying to be patient and not pressure her into making any decisions.

He wanted to take her under a bed of stars, and tonight he just wanted to hold her in his arms. Shield her from anything like he wished someone did for him. He would be that somebody he needed so long ago.

"I'll teach you, of course." He reassured her softly, still stroking her hair.

"You're not the only one who would be learning something." He peeked down at Tav, a smile tugging on his lips smugly.

"What, how?

Astarion's hands ran down Tav's side. His touch was gentle yet confident as he moved lower and lower. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear, telling her how beautiful and perfect she was. "I need to learn what gets you hot - "

Astarion smiled slyly as he felt her body react to his touch, knowing that he was driving her wild. His hands moved with a sensual grace as if they had done this many times before. "Where you shiver - "

"Where it hurts - " his hand gripped Tav's ass firmly, making Tav blush and squirm. Astarion continued to fondle Tav's ass, enjoying the feel of it in his hands and the way that the heat from Tav's skin seemed to seep into his own.

He leaned over Tav's ear, whispering teasingly, "Where you would want me to cum. Inside your tight cunt, or outside your soft stomach…"

Tav's body grew hot and her heart raced as Astarion's hand explored her body. She gazed up to look at him, her eyes wide with surprise and pleasure. Astarion smiled and leaned in to kiss Tav, their lips lingering together as he continued to caress Tav's ass. Intertwining their tongues together in a harmonious dance. She felt herself melting into his embrace, her body trembling with pleasure.

After what felt like an eternity, Astarion finally pulled away, and a satisfied smile tugged his lips. Tav blushed deeper, wondering what Astarion was thinking.

He chuckled, leaning in to kiss Tav's cheek. "You're so beautiful," his voice low and husky. Tav felt the aching between her legs, but she smiled, feeling her heart swell with happiness instead.

Sex was a scary thing for Tav. However, Astarion made her feel safe and seen, so maybe it was all in her head. She looked forward to when Astarion would take her as his.

They lay there in each other's arms for a while, their bodies intertwined in a peaceful embrace. Love was more than just sex, and it proved a hell of a point to them both.

Part 2 here

Any thoughts? Comment 👇🏼 I love to engage!

[ventique18]

Since Malleus has a grand total of zero experience and thus no standards when it comes to social things, you can't tell me he wouldn't be the cringiest person alive while crushing on you.

Bro drops cheesy love letters in your locker. Writes a song for you and sings it "anonymously" (everybody recognizes his voice) at the school fair. Offers to clean up your dorm for you. And worst of all,

🐉: "HEADMAGE!"

🐦‍⬛: "Draconia!"

🐉: "You must reevaluate 🌸's marks. They are extremely able, it's just that the exam content is completely unfamiliar to them."

🐦‍⬛: "If this is about their potions exam--"

🐉: "YES. Take from my own marks and transfer it to them if need be. They have to pass, or it would bring them undue heartbreak..."

🐦‍⬛, almost bursting out laughing: "Transfer grades? Why--"

🐦‍⬛, clearing his throat: "You do know you're running for the highest accolades, no? Why would you compromise your position for a... A simple freshman?"

🐉: "Mortal awards and titles matter not. Not if I could sacrifice it for my beloved's happiness."

Dramatic. Completely childish. Middle school level simping. Cringe.

But...

🐦‍⬛: "Oh you've really grown-- I mean to say, I'm quite touched. However,"

🐦‍⬛: "They are not failing."

🐉: "What?"

🐦‍⬛: "They already took a more practical remedial and did splendidly."

🐉: "So you mean to say..."

🐦‍⬛: "You did not need to come here. Not that I would've granted such a request..."

🐉: "..."

🐦‍⬛: "..."

🐉: "You did not hear anything."

🐦‍⬛: "Yes, you came here to ask about your academic status is all."

Needless to say, he never did it again.