#it is still part time for now- bc i asked for it to be part time and work my way up to full time- i'm allowed at any time w/training to

[iamquiantrelle]

SO INTO YOU (part 2) ───── iamquaintrelle

# pairings: aurelien tchouameni x black reader (✨💕)

# tags: @sucredreamer @snowseasonmademe @jessnotwiththemess @rougereds @judectrl @mufasathatniggatho @irishmanwhore @lettersofgold @ayeshami @greyishbach @haartemis @goldenngt @solidbriii @sailurmewn @bbgkoo @mauvecherie-writes @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro

# summary: you’re a multiple grammy winning artist with a record breaking single based on an embarrassing crush on a footballer & when that single demands visuals who else do you ask to be your video vixen besides said footballer crush? but is he also willing to blow your back out too? ♡ masterlist

The next few days passed in a blur — Madrid, the match, the rush of it all. Of course, someone caught you at the match — there was no way that wasn’t happening. You were you, after all, a Grammy-winning artist sitting in VIP seats at the Bernabéu, very much in the camera’s line of sight. The picture had already made its rounds on social media: you, leaning forward with your elbows on your knees, watching the game with full concentration. Another showed you mid-cheer after Aurélien’s assist, your excitement unmistakable.

The comments on The Shade Room were a mess.

"Why is [Your Name] at the Bernabéu??" "She watching soccer now? 👀" "Ain’t no way she just ‘watching’ — look at that smile." "She’s a Madridista now? Elite taste." "I know she was there for Tchouaméni. Be serious."

You scrolled through the discourse with a grin, but the real entertainment was happening on Tumblr. Unlike the rest of the internet, your little tchouamenithoughts page was an anonymous safe haven, a place where you could be as shamelessly down bad as you wanted. And the girlies were going through it.

moot1: she’s cute. good for him i guess moot2: the way he’s been playing lately... yeah he’s in love moot3: it’s giving soft launch. moot4: imagine being the muse for that one song she wrote... bc I KNOW it’s about him.

You had to stifle a laugh reading that one. It was already too weird, and you knew — God forbid — if Aurélien ever found out about this little corner of the internet, you’d have to disappear into the abyss.

You then reblogged a gifset of Aurélien’s highlights from the match, tagged "captain of my heart" before clicking into the inbox.

Anonymous asked: "Bro tell me you saw [Your Name] at the match? She was going feral for our man Tchouaméni just like us. Respect."

You snorted and reblogged it with a simple: "As she should."

Your phone buzzed in your hand, pulling you away from the mess you’d been consuming like your own personal reality show.

Auré: Did you make it home safe?

You smiled, a warmth blooming in your chest.

You: I did. Tired though.

Auré: You should rest. You’ll need your energy for when I see you again.

You bit your lip, shaking your head at the audacity.

You: Oh? And when’s that?

Auré: Soon. I told you, I’m doing the chasing now.

Your stomach flipped. God help you.

You locked your phone and sighed, leaning back against your pillows, your laptop still open to the mess of your moots spiraling in real-time. Yeah, this Tumblr was going to have to go soon.

But for now? You had a little more time to kiki.

***************************************************

Aurélien meant it when he said he wanted to do the rest and chase you.

The next morning, a delivery arrived at your apartment in LA. A massive bouquet — white and blush pink roses, accented with baby’s breath. It smelled incredible, and the little card tucked inside made your stomach flip.

"Since I didn’t get to be the first one in your DMs, let me be the first to send you flowers. –AT"

You bit your lip, rereading the message at least three times before setting the card down. The man was serious.

And the thing was — he wasn’t doing too much. You’d been courted before, had men try to win you over with grand gestures that felt more about them than you. But this? This was just Aurélien being him. Smooth, intentional. Never overstepping, just reminding you that he was right there.

His texts came consistently, never letting a day pass without checking in. Some were sweet. Some were very much not sweet.

Auré: Did you sleep well?

You: Mhm. You?

Auré: Not really. Kept thinking about how you looked in my bed.

Whew.

Other times, he was just ridiculous.

Auré: Hypothetically, if someone wanted to know your coffee order…

You: Hypothetically, they should just ask.

Auré: I am asking. But I wanted to see if you'd be difficult first.

You: Vanilla oat milk latte, extra shot. Now tell me why you’re asking like you’re sending a gift card.

Auré: I might be.

You: Aurélien.

And sure enough, an hour later, an email from Starbucks: [Your Name], you’ve received a gift from Aurélien Tchouaméni.

You couldn’t even be mad.

Then came the FaceTimes. Usually at night, when he knew you were home. It started casual — just him, shirtless (because of course), leaning back against his headboard while you sat on your couch, notebook open, laptop playing beats softly in the background.

"What are you working on?" he asked one night, eyes flicking to your scribbled lyrics.

"Music."

"No shit," he teased, smirking. "But what kind?"

You tapped your pen against your notebook. "Just some ideas."

His brows lifted. "For me?"

You snorted. "No. Not everything is about you."

"Shame." He stretched, flexing way too much for someone who was supposedly relaxing. "But you’ll write another one about me eventually."

"You think?"

"I know."

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway, focusing back on your lyrics. Until—

"You work too much," he murmured.

You glanced up. "And you run too much. What’s your point?"

His smirk deepened. "That I’m gonna fix that. When are you coming back to Madrid?"

You blinked. “Oh, you’re just assuming I’m coming?”

"Yeah." He looked so sure, so smug, you wanted to reach through the screen and wipe that smirk off his face.

"I have work."

"I have work too,” he countered easily. "But I make time for what I want."

That shut you up for a second. You clicked your tongue. "That’s a cute line."

He grinned. "It’s not a line, bébé. It’s a fact."

And then, as if that wasn’t enough, the next morning, another email delivery. This time? A plane ticket. First class, LAX to Madrid, one week from now.

No note. Just that.

And the man had the audacity to text: See you soon.

******************************************************

You told yourself you weren’t really considering it.

You weren’t impulsive like this. You had rules. Checklists. Boundaries.

But when Carmen barely batted an eye after you double-checked your schedule and when your best friend damn near screamed in your ear after you mentioned Madrid again?

"Are you insane? You just got back!"

You winced, pulling the phone away from your ear. "First of all, lower your voice—"

"No! Because this man has already had you in a chokehold, and now you’re just willingly running back?"

You sighed, switching the phone to your other ear. "It’s not like that.”

"What’s it like then?"

Silence.

Exactly.

Because what were you really gonna say? That you were working backwards? That the whole 'I have standards thing' was already a joke because you’d skipped about fifteen steps when you slept with him and now you were just here like some lovestruck fool?

Because you were.

"Yeah," your best friend scoffed when you stayed quiet. "That’s what I thought."

Still, none of that stopped you from breezing through TSA a few days later, sunglasses on, hoodie pulled low, boarding a first-class flight back to Madrid. Because somehow, in less than two weeks, you had gone from watching him on your screen to meeting him in person for your video shoot, and now you were sipping champagne, heading straight back to him.

You were supposed to be working — laptop open, beats playing, lyrics scattered across your notebook — but all you could do was stare at your phone, rereading his last message.

Auré: See you soon, bébé.

A slow exhale left your lips.

You weren’t even there yet, and he already had you spiraling.

The moment you exited arrivals, he was waiting.

Leaning up against his car, hands in his pockets, looking stupidly good in a fitted tee, Rhude shorts that made everything look right, snapback cap, and another Cuban link around his neck. His eyes locked on you like he’d been counting the seconds.

Your stomach flipped.

This man…

"You’re early," you said, trying to keep your voice even.

He smirked. "So are you."

Fair.

"C’mere."

You barely had time to react before his arms were around you, pulling you into him. His scent wrapped around you — warm, familiar, distracting — and suddenly, everything about this felt like a terrible idea.

If he was this good just holding you, how the hell were you supposed to handle anything else? Especially at the rate he was going?

"You miss me?" he murmured, lips at your ear.

You pulled back, schooling your face. "Did you?"

No hesitation. "Yeah."

Your heart betrayed you, but you kept your expression neutral.

"Hmm," you teased. "Was it the inside jokes? The deep conversations?"

He chuckled, dark and knowing. "The way you sound when I—"

"Aurélien."

His grin widened as he stepped back, opening the passenger door. "Get in, bébé."

And just like that, you were gone all over again.

The drive to his place was quiet.

Not the awkward kind — never that with him.

It was the kind of silence that buzzed, thick with anticipation. The kind where every glance, every shift in your seat, said more than words could. Aurélien drove one-handed, his other hand resting on your thigh like it belonged there, fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against your skin.

Like he was reminding you exactly why you were here.

The low hum of Afrobeats filled the car, blending with the occasional ping of a text on his phone. You ignored it, focusing instead on the way his fingers tightened slightly when you moved, the barely-there smirk on his lips.

"You good?" His voice was smooth, teasing.

You exhaled. "Fine."

A low chuckle. "Lying already?"

You shot him a look, but it was useless. He knew. He always knew.

By the time you reached his house, you were already on edge.

And then there was Ocho.

The massive Belgian Malinois greeted you at the door with an excited bark, nearly knocking you over in his eagerness.

"Damn, you remember me?" You laughed, scratching behind his ears as he licked at your wrist.

Aurélien chuckled behind you, setting your bag down near the stairs. "He doesn’t forget people he likes."

You glanced up, finding him watching you with something unreadable in his gaze.

The air between you shifted.

You swallowed, turning away to take in the space — the same high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows, the same sleek yet lived-in warmth from the last time you were here. But this time, there was something different.

This time, you knew what it felt like to be pressed against that couch, to have his mouth on your skin, to hear your own voice echoing against these walls.

And, of course, there were the flowers.

You huffed a laugh, finally spotting the massive bouquet of white lilies and soft pink roses in a crystal vase on the marble countertop.

"You really do this, huh?" you murmured, fingers ghosting over the petals of the bouquet before turning to face him.

Aurélien leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching you with that slow, knowing smirk that made your stomach tighten. "Do what?"

"This whole…" You gestured vaguely at the flowers, the way he had you standing in his kitchen, feeling like you’d stepped into something inevitable. "Seduction thing."

"I told you," he said, pushing off the counter to come to you, voice low as his fingers found your waist. "I wanted the chase."

Your breath caught as his chain moved gently against his collarbone.

"And now that I have you here?" His lips hovered over yours, his hands already moving, already claiming. "I’m not letting up."

Your breath hitched as his hand splayed against your lower back, pulling you flush against him. You were already in too deep, already fighting a losing battle against the warmth curling in your stomach, against the way he smelled — clean, like cedarwood and something distinctly him.

"Aurélien—"

He kissed you before you could finish, tilting your chin up, his lips moved against yours like he had all the time in the world, like he was savoring you, mapping you out. The hand at your waist gripped tighter, and he made a sound in the back of his throat when your fingers found the nape of his neck, threading into the soft curls there.

You felt him smile against your mouth.

"What?" you breathed.

He pulled back just enough to search your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "You taste smug," he muttered.

You arched a brow. "And what does smug taste like?"

His lips twitched. "Like someone who knew she was coming back to me."

Your stomach flipped.

You weren’t going to entertain that — not right now, not when his voice was doing that and his hands were still tracing over your body like he was committing every inch of you to memory.

So you deflected. "Ocho knew too, apparently."

Aurélien huffed a quiet laugh. "Ocho is a good judge of character."

You snorted, shaking your head, but the moment you tried to step back, his grip on your waist tightened.

"You’re not going anywhere, bébé," he murmured.

You swallowed hard.

Because he wasn’t just talking about right now.

And he knew you knew it.

The moment stretched between you, heavy with promise. His thumb was still tracing patterns on your skin, each touch deliberate, like he was writing his intentions into your flesh. The kitchen's warm lighting caught the angles of his face just right, making his dark skin glow golden, and that fade you'd written countless posts about was perfect for running your fingers through.

"You're thinking too loud," he murmured, ducking his head to press his lips to your neck. His chain brushed cold against you, making you shiver.

"Hard not to," you managed, trying to keep your voice steady as his teeth grazed that spot below your ear. "When you're being all…" you gestured vaguely at him, at this whole situation.

He huffed a laugh against your skin. "All what?"

"You know what."

"Mm," his hands slid lower, grip tightening just enough to make your breath catch. "Tell me anyway."

The command in his voice - that same tone he used directing the midfield - had your knees weak. But two could play this game.

You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, watching them darken as your fingers traced the chain around his neck. "All confident," you said softly.

His responding smile was dangerous. "Didn't you write a whole song about it?"

"That's not—"

"About how I control the game?" His lips brushed your ear, voice dropping lower. "About how I read the field?"

Your heart was absolutely betraying you, hammering against your ribs like it was trying to escape.

"You really memorized those lyrics, huh?" you tried to tease, but your voice came out breathier than intended.

He pulled back to look at you properly, and the intensity in his gaze had you forgetting how to breathe. The same focus you'd watched him apply to matches, to training, to everything he did - all of it was directed at you now.

"I memorized everything about you," he said simply, like he wasn't completely ruining your ability to think straight. "The way you bite your lip when you're nervous. How your eyes follow me during matches."

Ocho's tags jingled as he trotted past, heading for his bed in the corner, completely unbothered by the way his owner was systematically dismantling your composure.

"You're impossible," you muttered, even as your hands traveled up his arms, feeling the muscles shift under your touch.

"You like impossible," he countered, and before you could argue, his mouth was on yours again, more urgent this time. Less controlled. Like maybe you weren't the only one affected here.

Your back hit the counter, and his hands gripped your hips to lift you onto it. The marble was cold through your clothes but he was burning hot, all solid muscle and sure touches as he stepped between your legs.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured against your lips, but his hands were already sliding under your shirt, already knew your answer.

You tangled your fingers in his chain instead, using it to pull him closer. "No."

His answering laugh was all satisfaction, all victory. "Good girl."

*******************************************************

You woke up to Madrid sunlight filtering through his expensive blackout curtains that clearly weren't doing their job. His bed was still unfairly comfortable, sheets soft against your skin, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest under your cheek was threatening to lull you back to sleep.

Jetlag had hit you hard after... activities, leading to what was supposed to be a quick power nap but wasn’t. That kitchen counter definitely needed disinfecting though.

Multiple times.

Now the afternoon light was painting patterns on his dark skin, and you were finding it hard to care about time zones at all. When he woke up to slip away to the bathroom, you grabbed your phone, checking the damage.

Surprisingly, your Tumblr mutuals hadn't caught wind of your return to Madrid yet. But you knew better - it would only take one fan with a good camera angle to set everything off again. You heard the sink running, and then Aurélien padded back to bed, all sleep-warm skin and low-slung sweats. He lay beside you for a moment before that hand found your waist, tugging you closer.

"C'mere," he murmured, voice still rough with sleep. You went willingly, settling against his chest, ear pressed to his heartbeat. That same dopey ass smile from last time spread across your face as his fingers traced lazy patterns on your back. "How long are you staying?" he asked, playing with your hair.

You tilted your head up to look at him. "How long do you want me?"

His answering smirk was knowing as he bit his lip, considering. "A long time."

"Can't do that," you laughed softly. "But... two weeks?"

"Two weeks is good," he hummed, fingers still moving against your skin. "We can have fun, go on proper dates... maybe take a trip somewhere."

You propped yourself up on his chest. "Trips? Already planning baecations?"

"Mm," his hand slid lower on your back. "Gotta pull out all the stops. Could do Mallorca, Ibiza..." his smile turned dangerous. "Or maybe Paris?"

"Paris?" You tried to keep your voice steady, but the way his fingers were still tracing patterns on your skin was distracting. "That's a lot for someone who just wanted to be in my music video a few weeks ago."

His laugh rumbled through his chest. "Is it? When I've been catching you like those highlights at 3 AM?"

You pushed up to look at him properly. "Still can't believe that you noticed that. "

"Bébé," his hand came up to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheek, "You should know that I notice everything. Why did you think I said yes to the video?"

Your heart did that stupid flutter thing again. "Because I'm a three-time Grammy winner and it'd be good PR?"

The look he gave you was almost pitying. "You really think that's why? Still?"

Before you could answer, he moved - that athletic grace you'd watched on the field now used to flip you onto your back, hovering over you with that dangerous smile.

"I said yes," he murmured, chain dangling between you, "because I wanted to see if you were as beautiful up close as you were in those award show pictures I kept saving."

Your breath caught. "You what?"

"Mm." His lips found your neck. "Want to see my camera roll? All those screenshots of you performing? The ones where you're wearing that dress at the VMAs?"

"Aurélien—"

"The way you move on stage," he continued, voice dropping lower, "the way you command attention…"

You couldn't process this - him admitting to essentially doing the same thing you'd been doing, collecting pieces of each other from afar.

"So this," he said, pulling back to look at you with those eyes that saw too much, "is just the beginning. I told you - I'm the lion." His hand slid down your side, grip possessive. "And I chase what I want."

"And what do you want?" Your voice came out embarrassingly breathy.

That smile should be illegal. "Right now?" His lips brushed yours. "For you to stop thinking so much and let me show you exactly why I memorized every word of that song you wrote about me."

You barely had time to catch your breath before he was kissing you again, all intensity and purpose, and yeah - two weeks definitely wasn't going to be enough.

***************************************************

The Madrid morning light painted his bedroom in honey-gold streaks, warming the spaces he'd left cold when he left for training. His kiss goodbye still lingered on your forehead, along with his casual "take the other car if you want to go out" - like lending you a hundred-thousand euro vehicle was as simple as sharing coffee.

But after last night (and the night before that, and the increasingly blurred hours in between), you were content to exist in the aftermath of him. Every room held echoes - the way he'd pressed you against that wall, how his chain had caught the light as he'd lifted you onto that counter, the sound of his laugh when you'd almost knocked over that probably-expensive vase.

He'd been attentive in a way that made your chest ache, all careful questions and watching eyes. The same precision you'd analyzed in countless match footage translated to how he touched you - deliberate, focused, like every response was data to be cataloged. His perfectionist tendencies apparently extended far beyond the pitch, and you had the marks to prove it.

Speaking of Tumblr... you scrolled through your dash one last time. The theories were still flying, the thirst posts still abundant, but it felt really wrong now. Here was Aurélien making actual time for you, being intentional about pursuing you, and you had a whole account dedicated to thirsting over him? The cognitive dissonance was too much.

You wrote a quick post about "digital wellness" and noted taking a break then deleted the app. You'd properly nuke the account later - right now, you had a house to explore.

Ocho followed you through the house, his tags jingling as he padded along faithfully. The home gym where he'd filmed all those workout videos that had sent your mutuals into chaos was impressive, but seeing that motivational quote wall in the flesh? You clutched your imaginary pearls. And the mural of what looked like the 1960s Real Madrid team in the hallway? Yeah, if this was heading where you thought it was heading, you were definitely calling an interior decorator.

The media room spoke more to his age - all premium gaming setups and theater-quality everything. But the real winner was the backyard. The pool area was something out of a luxury resort catalog, and the Madrid sun hit just right on the loungers.

You settled into one, Ocho flopping at your feet, and tried to process everything. Two boyfriends in your entire life, and now here was Aurélien Tchouaméni - six feet two inches of pure "god took his time" - sliding into position to be number three? The universe was really out here making dreams come true.

Your phone lit up:

Auré: Missing you already. Dinner tonight? Unless you're too tired…

Your cheeks heated, remembering exactly why you might be tired. The way he'd switched between languages when he was too far gone to think straight, how that chain had felt cold against your heated skin, the sound he'd made when—

Another message:

Auré: I can feel you thinking about last night from here 😏

The smile that spread across your face was embarrassing. Those Tumblr manifestations had worked almost too well - your mutual followers had no idea they were manifesting their own thirsting out of existence.

******************************************************

"Aurélien," you warned, trying to keep your hand steady as you applied eyeliner, "I swear to god—"

"Mm?" His voice was all fake innocence, but his hands on your hips were anything but, squeezing your ass appreciatively as he pressed against your back. "I'm not doing anything."

The bathroom counter was cool under your palms as you leaned forward, attempting to focus on your reflection instead of how his chain was brushing against your shoulder, how his fingers were tracing the curve of your—

"I'm trying to get ready," you protested, but it came out embarrassingly breathy. "We have dinner reservations."

"We do," he agreed, pressing a kiss to your neck that definitely threatened your carefully applied foundation. "In an hour."

"Which means I need to finish my face and—" you inhaled sharply as his hands slid lower, gripping more firmly. "Aurélien."

You caught his reflection in the mirror - that dangerous smile playing at his lips as he watched you try to maintain composure. The fresh fade and fitted shirt were doing criminal things for his already unfair looks.

"You look perfect already," he murmured, and the sincerity in his voice almost distracted you from how his thumbs were now tracing maddening circles.

"You're impossible," you managed, but you were already leaning back against him, makeup brush forgotten.

His laugh rumbled through his chest. "You like impossible."

"Get out," you laughed, pushing at his chest. "Let me finish getting ready in peace."

His pout was criminally effective, but he retreated to the bedroom. Through the mirror, you watched him settle on the edge of the bed, scrolling through TikTok with casual grace. The moment you spritzed your setting spray though, he stood up like it was Pavlov's bell.

Interesting.

You filed that reaction away for later research.

It was becoming clear that Aurélien had downloaded the Complete Boyfriend Experience somewhere between your time apart. His manners were even more impeccable, his timing perfect, his attention to detail almost suspicious.

He took your hand as you descended the stairs together - another discovery about the man your mutuals had analyzed endlessly. Physical touch was definitely high on his love language list, contrary to Maha's whole dissertation about him being an acts of service guy. (The smugness of proving a mutual wrong? Unmatched.)

The stilettos made you grateful for his steady presence, his hand warm and secure in yours. At the door, he turned to Ocho, voice dropping into that French that still did things to you both in and out of the bedroom.

"Sois sage, protège la maison," he murmured, scratching behind the dog's ears. The simple command shouldn't sound that good, but here you were swooning.

He led you to the car, opening the passenger door with that fluid grace that made everything look choreographed. But there, sitting in your seat, was a red gift bag.

"Aurélien…" you breathed, picking it up before sliding in.

That smile played on his lips as he made his way to the driver's side, starting the car with practiced ease. The dopey ass grin was back on your face before you could stop it as he pulled out of the driveway.

"Are you going to open it?" he asked, one hand on the wheel while the other found its usual spot on your thigh. The Cartier and Van Cleef & Arpels bracelets on his wrist caught the streetlights, and you couldn't help staring at how right his large hand looked there, fingers splayed possessively across your skin.

The gift bag sat in your lap, full of promise. Whatever was inside - expensive or not - didn't really matter. The fact that he'd thought to get you anything at all had your heart doing that stupid flutter thing again.

You pulled out the tissue paper slowly, dragging out the moment. Aurélien's thumb traced circles on your thigh as he navigated through Madrid's evening traffic, but you could feel his attention split between the road and your reaction.

Inside was a small velvet box that made your heart stop for a second before common sense kicked in. Too soon for that kind of box. Still, your fingers trembled slightly as you opened it.

"I saw you looking at it the other day," he said softly, as you lifted out the delicate Van Cleef & Arpels bracelet - a match to one of his. "Thought we could coordinate."

The way he said it so casually, like matching thousand euro jewelry was just something you did now. Like this wasn't him essentially marking his territory in the most expensive way possible.

"You're ridiculous," you managed, but you were already holding out your wrist for him to fasten it at the next red light.

His fingers lingered on your pulse point. "You like ridiculous."

"Maybe," you admitted, watching the bracelet catch the streetlights. It looked right next to his hand on your thigh, like it belonged there. Like you belonged there.

His answering smile was knowing. "Only maybe?"

You were saved from responding by his phone lighting up with a call from Jude. He answered through the car's Bluetooth, and you settled back to listen to him switch effortlessly between English and French, discussing tactics for their next match. The way authority wrapped around his words, how naturally he took command of the conversation - yeah, you were definitely going to need to write another song.

His hand never left your thigh during the entire call, thumb still tracing those maddening patterns that made focusing on anything else impossible. The bracelet glinted with each movement, a constant reminder of how quickly this was all moving.

Two weeks suddenly felt like both forever and not nearly enough time at all.

The restaurant was exactly the kind of place you'd expect Aurélien to know about — tucked away in a historic part of Madrid, all warm lighting and exposed brick walls. Private enough that phones stayed in pockets, exclusive enough that no one batted an eye when he led you to a corner table with his hand on your lower back.

"You're staring," he murmured as you settled into your seat, that knowing smirk playing at his lips.

"You clean up nice," you shrugged, trying for casual like you hadn't been watching him all evening. The black button-down was doing criminal things for his shoulders, and the way he'd rolled up the sleeves to show off those bracelets felt deliberately calculated to drive you crazy.

"Just nice?" His eyes glinted as he reached for his water glass, chain catching the light with the movement.

"Your ego doesn't need any more feeding."

His laugh was low, private. "No? After the way you were liking my training videos? Or maybe my posts?"

The waiter's arrival saved you from having to form a coherent response to that. Aurélien ordered for both of you in perfect Spanish - another language that had no business sounding that good rolling off his tongue. You were starting to think he could read a grocery list and make it sound sexy.

"So," he said once the waiter left, his fingers finding yours across the table, "about Paris..."

Your heart did that stupid flutter thing again. "What about it?"

"I was thinking," his thumb traced your new bracelet, "maybe we start there. Then Côte d'Azur, maybe Monaco..."

"That's a lot of planning for someone who just wanted to be in my music video a few weeks ago," you echoed your words from the other day, but this time they carried a different weight.

His eyes met yours, all intensity and promise. "I told you - I'm chasing. Properly."

The way he said it, like it was just that simple. Like planning European getaways and matching jewelry and looking at you like that was the most natural progression in the world.

"You're good," you said softly, watching his bracelets catch the light as he played with your fingers.

"At what?"

"This whole..." you gestured vaguely between you. "Boyfriend thing."

His smile turned dangerous. "Is that what this is?"

You tried to pull your hand back but he held firm, that grin widening. "I mean- I didn't mean to assume-"

"No?" He brought your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "After I've been marking my territory so obviously?"

Your breath caught. "The bracelet–"

"The bracelet," he agreed, then his eyes got that glint that usually meant trouble. "Maybe next time we'll talk about a key. Make it easier than me having to come home from training to let you in."

His phone lit up with another call - Camavinga this time - but he declined it, attention still focused entirely on you.

"You can take it," you offered, but he was already shaking his head.

"They can wait." His thumb traced your pulse point again, right below the new bracelet. "I'm busy chasing."

The waiter came back with a bottle wine and poured some in both of your glasses. You took a sip quickly, trying to calm your nerves.

"You know," he said after taking his own sip of wine, eyes never leaving yours, "I'm going to ask you properly. To be my girlfriend."

Your heart did a backflip. "Oh yeah?"

"Mm." That dangerous smile was back. "Not yet though. Want to do it right."

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. "You're really out here making men look bad, you know that?"

"How so?"

"All this," you gestured between you, at the bracelet, at everything. "The chasing, the dating, the whole... intentional thing. In 2024? In this economy?"

His thumb was still tracing patterns on your wrist, just below where the Van Cleef caught the light. "You think I'd do any less? After watching you for months?"

He made it seem like putting in effort was the most natural thing in the world (and it was). Like taking time to court properly, to build something real, wasn't a dying art. Here you were, living through dating horror stories from friends about situationships and breadcrumbing and 50/50 and men who couldn't even send proper texts, and Aurélien Tchouaméni was out here planning European trips and buying matching jewelry and talking about asking you to be his girlfriend "properly."

"You're kind of unreal, you know that?"

That smile should really be illegal. "Good unreal?"

"Don't fish for compliments," you said, but you were grinning. "Your ego is big enough."

"My ego?" He leaned forward slightly, chain catching the light. "Says the one who wrote a whole song about me?"

Your cheeks heated. "That's different."

"Is it?" His voice dropped lower, more private. "Because I have some thoughts about those lyrics..."

The look in his eyes promised you'd be hearing those thoughts in detail later.

The meal passed in a haze of excellent food and better company, but dessert? That was when Aurélien decided to be truly unfair.

He moved your chair closer to his, the scraping noise against the floor making you wince - but he didn't seem to care, too focused on closing the distance between you. The chocolate something-or-other looked incredible, but the way he picked up the spoon, eyes locked on yours? That was what had your pulse jumping.

Every movement was deliberate as he gathered a perfect bite, holding it up with the kind of precision he usually reserved for perfectly weighted passes. His eyes never left yours as you leaned forward, and the intensity in his gaze as he watched you take the bite had heat crawling up your neck.

You dabbed at your mouth with your napkin, hyper-aware of how he tracked the movement.

"Is it good?" His voice had dropped to that register that did dangerous things to your composure.

"Very–" was all you managed before his mouth was on yours, tongue sweeping in to taste the chocolate himself. His hand came up to cradle your jaw, and maybe you should've been embarrassed about kissing like this in public, but with Aurélien? All bets were off.

Those full lips of his really were criminal, and the way his stupidly handsome face looked when he finally pulled back, pupils blown and that satisfied smirk playing at his mouth? Yeah, public decency was overrated.

"Let's go back to my place," he murmured against your lips, and something in his tone had your stomach doing somersaults.

The waiter appeared almost instantly at his gesture, and you watched Aurélien handle everything with that easy command he carried on the field — getting the dessert boxed, settling the bill, all while keeping one hand on the small of your back like he couldn't bear to break contact.

The night air hit cool against your heated skin as he guided you out, his touch steady and possessive. The valet had his car waiting in minutes, perks of being Madrid royalty, you supposed. He opened your door first, naturally, and the way his eyes tracked down your body as you slid in had you feeling like prey in the best way.

The moment he settled into the driver's seat, Brent Faiyaz's voice filled the car — something about one night, about pleasure, about giving in. The universe really was testing you tonight.

You pressed your thighs together, trying to ebb off your arousal, but then his hand found your leg again. Those fingers splayed possessively across your skin, squeezing just enough to let you know he noticed your movement. Every few seconds his eyes would flick over to you, dark with promise, and the way he bit his lip when you shifted under his touch had you counting the minutes until you reached his place.

"You good?" he asked, voice rough, and the smirk playing at his lips said he knew exactly what he was doing.

"Yeah."

The fact that he could still drive this well while systematically dismantling your self-control was honestly impressive.

The drive felt endless but somehow too quick at the same time. Aurélien's hand never left your thigh, and by the time he pulled into his driveway, the tension in the car was thick enough to cut.

He moved with that controlled grace of his as he came around to open your door, but there was something darker in his eyes now, something that had your pulse racing. His chain caught the security lights as he helped you out, and the way he pulled you close — enough to feel how his chest rose and fell a bit faster than normal — had you forgetting basic motor functions.

You barely registered Ocho's excited greeting at the door, too focused on how Aurélien's hand had slid from your back to your waist, how he was looking at you like he was planning exactly how to ruin your carefully applied makeup.

"Va te coucher, Ocho," he commanded softly to the dog, and honestly? French really should not sound that good. The way the words rolled off his tongue, all authority and promise...

The door clicked shut behind you.

His hands found your hips, turning you to face him. The "AT" pendant glinted in the dim light as he leaned down, stopping just shy of your lips.

"Now," he murmured, "where were we?"

Your breath caught, heart hammering as Aurélien’s fingers dug just a little deeper into your waist. His touch was steady, deliberate — like he was taking his time, savoring the way you melted into him.

"Right about here," you murmured, tilting your chin up, letting your lips brush his just slightly. Just enough to tease.

A muscle in his jaw ticked.

His grip tightened, yanking you that last inch forward until there was nothing between you but heat. His mouth found yours in a kiss that was all possession — slow, deep, unapologetically hungry.

Ocho let out a soft chuff before trotting off, uninterested in whatever was unfolding. You, however? You were done for.

How you made it up the stairs, you didn’t know. You were only aware of the way he guided you with ease, like he owned every move you made together. By the time you reached his bedroom, your back met the closed door the moment the door clicked shut behind you. His breath warm against your skin, his hands dragging up your sides, over the fabric of your dress.

"You knew how tonight was ending," he murmured, lips grazing your jaw, fingers already working the zipper down.

You swallowed hard, exhaling shakily as the dress slipped from your shoulders, pooling at your feet. "Maybe," you admitted, voice breathy.

He smirked, the expression dark and knowing.

Then he stepped back just enough to unbutton his shirt, revealing the broad stretch of his shoulders, the sharp cut of his abs — skin warm, golden, flawless. Your breath hitched at the sight, because God, you’d seen him like this before, but it never stopped stealing the air from your lungs.

You never got tired of seeing him naked.

He was too beautiful.

Aurélien knew it too, the way he watched you watching him, his smirk deepening as he worked the belt from his pants.

Your own breathing was uneven by the time you were both bare, and then he was leading you to the bed, his hands firm on your hips, guiding you onto the mattress with a touch that felt reverent despite the heat simmering beneath it.

He leaned back against the headboard, toned thighs spread slightly as he reached over to the bedside table, retrieving a condom with an ease that sent a shiver down your spine.

You swallowed as he tore it open, sliding it on with practiced efficiency.

Then he looked at you.

His gaze was heavy, filled with promise.

"Come here," he murmured.

You crawled over to him, straddling his lap as his hands found your waist, steadying you as you settled over him. His skin was warm beneath your touch, muscles tense under your fingertips as you traced up his chest.

Aurélien pulled you closer, lips capturing yours in a kiss that was deep and unhurried, his tongue teasing against yours as his hands roamed your back. You could feel him hard against you, the sensation making your breath hitch.

His mouth moved from your lips to your jaw, then lower, trailing heat down your neck until he reached your chest. He took his time, lips and tongue tracing over the swell of your breasts before wrapping around a nipple. The sensation sent a shudder through you, a soft moan slipping past your lips as he sucked, his other hand palming your other breast, thumb circling the hardened peak.

"Aurélien," you breathed, threading your fingers through his curls.

He hummed against your skin, the vibration sending another wave of heat pooling low in your stomach. He switched to the other nipple, flicking his tongue before sucking again, his hands gripping your hips as he ground you down against him.

You whimpered at the friction, the growing ache between your thighs making you restless.

He looked up at you then, dark eyes heavy with want, lips glistening as he murmured, "Ride me."

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, at the low rasp of his voice.

You reached between you, aligning him with your entrance before sinking down slowly, gasping at the stretch, at how perfectly he filled you. Aurélien groaned, hands tightening on your waist as you took him inch by inch.

"Fucking hell," he muttered, head tilting back slightly, his grip firm as he helped guide you down. "Always so tight, bébé."

You moaned at the praise, at the delicious burn of him inside you.

He gave you a moment, fingers kneading your hips before urging you to move. You rolled your hips experimentally, exhaling sharply at the friction, at the way he stretched you just right.

"That’s it," he murmured, watching you through hooded eyes. "Take me just like that."

You set a rhythm, lifting and sinking down onto him, each roll of your hips making you both unravel a little more. His hands roamed your body, one gripping your waist, the other sliding up to cup your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple as he thrust up to meet your movements.

The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, mingling with breathy moans and curses in both English and French.

Aurélien’s eyes stayed on you, dark and hungry as he murmured, "Look at you… made for me, yeah?"

You whimpered, leaning forward to kiss him, the movement messy and desperate, all tongue. It reminded you of the first night you were together, when you had barely been able to keep your hands off each other, drowning in the sheer intensity of it all.

He groaned into your mouth, hands gripping your ass as he helped you move faster, deeper.

"Fuck, bébé," he rasped, voice wrecked. "You feel so good."

Your nails dug into his shoulders, chasing that high, loving how perfectly your bodies fit together — his deep brown skin against yours, slightly darker but complementing you like a missing puzzle piece.

You moaned his name, head tilting back as the pleasure built, and Aurélien took the opportunity to kiss your throat, teeth grazing your pulse.

His grip on your hips tightened before he lifted you effortlessly, his strength making your breath hitch. He shifted positions, pressing you into the mattress as he settled between your thighs, the heat of his body making you shiver in anticipation.

Aurélien’s hands slid down your legs, spreading them wider, and you hissed at the stretch. He paused, eyes flickering up to yours.

"I got you," he murmured, his lips brushing against your knee before he lifted one of your legs to rest over his shoulder. "Relax for me, bébé."

You exhaled, forcing yourself to melt into the mattress just as he rolled his hips forward, burying himself deep in one smooth thrust.

Your gasp was swallowed by his groan, the new angle sending pleasure spiking through your veins like electricity.

"Aurélien—"

He set a brutal pace, his hips snapping against yours with a force that had you clutching at the sheets, at his arms, at anything that could anchor you. The bedframe creaked beneath you, the headboard tapping lightly against the wall with each deep stroke.

"You take me so well," he gritted out, watching where your bodies met, mesmerized by the way you stretched around him. His free hand slid down to press against your lower stomach, applying just enough pressure to make you keen. "Feel that? How deep I am?"

You could only nod, your voice caught in your throat as pleasure wracked through you.

"That’s my girl," he praised, leaning forward just enough to kiss your ankle before snapping his hips even harder, making you cry out.

The sensations were overwhelming, your body trembling beneath him as that familiar ache coiled tight in your core. Your nails raked down his back, desperate for something to hold onto as you teetered on the edge.

Aurélien’s breathing was ragged, his hands gripping your thighs as he pounded into you mercilessly. "Come for me," he urged, voice rough and commanding. "Let me feel you."

His words pushed you over the edge, pleasure crashing over you in waves as your body clenched around him, your cry of release muffled by his mouth as he kissed you through it.

"Fuck," he groaned, his rhythm stuttering as he followed right after, burying himself deep one last time before stilling, his body shuddering above you.

For a long moment, the only sounds in the room were your heavy breaths, your bodies still tangled together as you both came down from the high.

Aurélien kissed you once, slow and languid, before pulling out carefully. He slid off the bed, disposing of the condom before returning, the mattress dipping under his weight as he pulled you into his chest.

You let him, curling against his warmth as his fingers traced lazy circles on your back.

And in that moment, as his lips pressed against your forehead and his arm tightened around your waist, you realized something.

Whatever this man wanted, whatever he needed —you were going to give it to him.

No questions asked.

……………tbd

[sluttysnowangel666]

sweet like candy - choi su bong / thanos

pairings : thanos/ su bong x fem reader

summary : despite only a few insignificant interactions with thanos, he grows jealous when he sees you talking to an ex marine, dae ho.

warnings: jealous thanos, use of drugs, swearing, violence, ooc thanos bc he’s kinda nice most of the time except for when he’s jealous, lowkey sub thanos idk how it happened but bros a good boy😭, oral(f receiving), hand job, sex(p in v)

ngl this is not my best work unfortunately:( it just feels like i rushed too much at certain parts but i just didn’t want it to be too repetitive to other stories with too much detail when we all know how the games work. send me some requests, i wanna do au or write for thanos where the reader and him are outside of the games

not responsible for the content you consume, use discretion when reading past the border. 18+

“Señorita, excuse me.”

You turn, an eyebrow already raised at the strange pet name you’d just been called. It’s a tall, young ish man. You take in his appearance; his hair is a bright shade of purple, slender fingers painted like infinity stones, marked with dark tattoos, chunky rings, and a cross necklace.

You don’t respond, instead continuing to walk in the eerie room painted like the sky, with a giant doll at the other side.

You sigh, still confused at how you ended up here with 456 other people in ugly green tracksuits and millions, if not billions, of won in debt.

He raps you a song, also stating his name is Thanos, which you try to tune out but its mediocrity makes you stifle a laugh. He notices, and your sweet smile makes him smile.

“I like you.” He says, flashing you a little heart with his fingers. You roll your eyes, walking past him as he lingers on your trail.

A man runs out, player 456, you note. He begins screaming, saying the game was “Red Light, Green Light” and the doll was going to kill us if we moved. His reaction makes you nervous, his fear seemed so genuine.

“My dad comes home like this sometimes,” Thanos says, noticing your shift in demeanor. “Saying there’s bugs in the walls and his phone’s been tapped by the government.”

“Do you think the guy yelling is high?” You ask.

He smirks a little before answering, which doesn’t go unnoticed by you. “Fuck no.”

The game begins, and Thanos takes your hand. You go to pull away but his grip is tight.

“Let go.” You whisper, on a red light.

“Come on, señorita. Let’s stick together.” He whispers back.

Before you can respond, the girl in front of you starts screaming about a bee landing on her. She faces you both and laughs a little.

“Oh, shit. I just moved, didn’t I?”

Bang.

Blood splatters on you and Thanos’ face.

“Don’t scream.” He whispers, but even if you wanted to, you couldn’t. Your body is in shock, frozen. You grip his hand in return now, trying to hold your shaking.

More rounds continue, but neither of you move. That is until the man tells you to finish you have to be behind the doll. Thanos moves you behind him, and you press your head into his back with your eyes shut tight, gripping his jacket. He slowly moves, pulling you with him.

A woman reacts to the body, and an another shot goes off. Panic ensues, as people run and shots fire continuously. All you can hear is screaming and shooting.

During the next green light Thanos doesn’t move, but you feel him fidgeting around. Two rounds go by of this before he finally moves again.

He lurches forward, and you feel him go “Ding” as he pushes a group of people down. Three shots ring off, and during the next green light you let go of him. He doesn’t even notice, skipping and jumping and dancing during every green light.

In the end, you survive. Splattered in blood, yes, but alive nonetheless.

You avoid him after that, feeling unnerved by the way he played during the games. You noticed him sharing a pill with a guy later, which made his behavior in the game make sense to you.

You sat on your bed, your face buried in your knees as you rocked back and forth. The lights were out, everyone going to sleep but, how could you? After everything you saw?

You glanced up at the piggy bank, glowing gold

and filled with won.

———

The next game was about to begin.

You had been brought into a room, eerily similar to the one with the doll, except the room had rainbow tracks and pink suit men standing around it. They ordered you to get into teams of 5.

You wandered around, searching for a group of people who wouldn’t kill you for fun.

“Hi.”

You turned, facing a handsome dark haired man, his hair half tied up. He was neatly kept, carrying himself with confidence and grace, despite everything.

“Hi.” You respond, meekly.

“Would you like to join our group?” He motions to the 4 men behind him. Their faces are stoic, but they look friendly enough. You notice the one man on the team was the one who warned everyone about the last games. You accept their offer; it’s not like you really had a choice anyway. Besides, why not let them pity you if they felt sorry enough to offer you a spot? No one else was itching to have you on your team…

Or so you thought.

On the other side of the room, Thanos was searching for you to be in his group. He felt inclined to protect you now after the events of the first game. The drugs were fueling him into wanting to be the hero of your story. He was convinced he could you get out of here, and you would tell the world Thanos the Great saved you with a snap of his fingers. Besides, such a sweet face like yours? It would be such a waste for you to die somewhere so silly.

He finds you, in the sea of people, talking to another man.

He fumes with rage, the ecstasy making him react more uncontrollably than usual.

He bites his lip, all of his prior convictions now forgotten. Let the bitch die then, he thinks to himself.

The games start, and players drop like flies from the first groups alone.

Thanos’ team goes, and you can’t help but cheer when you see them play successfully. You jump up and down, laughing and clapping at their win.

Thanos locks his eyes on yours, noticing your childlike joy at his win. It makes him strangely prideful, makes him forget why he was so mad at you in the first place.

He bows to you, like a musician after a performance. You blush a little, smiling at him, forgetting why he scared you in the first place.

Your team is last, and you’re up first playing ddakji. Your whole team plays successfully, and you survive another round of the games.

You go back to your bunks, Dae Ho wrapping a friendly and comforting arm around you as you both walk. You sit with your group, eating and laughing while you slowly forget the chaos around you.

Thanos watched it all play out with Dae Ho again. His palms were sweaty the whole time, hoping you’d survive and walk back into that room. The second you walked back through the door alive, his eyes were on you.

“Are you good?” Nam Gyu asks Thanos, noticing his eyes constantly following you.

“I don’t know what the fuck are you talking about.” Thanos spits, defensively. He takes another pill, needing the courage for his next move.

“Let me have one.” Nam Gyu begs. Thanos reluctantly hands one over.

Nam Gyu takes it with haste, as Thanos stands and makes his way towards you. He quickly gets up and follows his friend, ready for whatever fight may come.

Each time you laugh at Dae Ho, Thanos picks his pace up a little faster. He’s convinced that it’s like with each laugh that slips past your honey coated lips, then the closer Dae Ho is to getting to taste them. He sways his body unnaturally as he walks, wanting to appear more bad ass than he really felt.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He says as he approaches you.

“Thanos.” You say, a warning in your voice to leave you alone.

“You good, bro?” Dae Ho asks.

“Why the fuck are you talking to my girl?” He addresses Dae Ho now. You and Dae Ho both scoff in disbelief, but this is how your reaction played out in Thanos’ mind.

They both laugh

“Dae Ho, you’re so funny.”

“Well, you’re sexy.”

“Let’s make out and fuck right here in front of Thanos.”

“Whatever you say, beautiful.”

He reaches his hand out, grabbing you by your jacket and yanking you to your feet.

“Thanos!” You yell. Dae Ho and In Ho stand up to diffuse the situation. Before they can even intervene, you land a closed fist to Thanos’ eye.

He backs away, holding it as a little cut forms.

“Crazy bitch.” He says. He points at Dae Ho. “You stay away from her.”

“Fuck off.” You yell at Thanos. He backs away, still facing you and nodding his head in anger. His face reads This isn’t over.

“You okay?” Dae Ho asks. You nod, slightly breathless.

The way Thanos grabbed you was rude,

unnecessary,

controlling…

and hot.

You wanted to kick yourself for feeling so attracted to him in that moment. He was mentally unstable, high; everything that could be wrong with a man, he was.

Yet here you were, yearning for a piece of him just as he yearned for you.

Later that night, you couldn’t sleep in your bunk. You were stressed with nerves, with the thought that each next day could be your last. You tapped your foot relentlessly against the frame of the bed, until a person above you made a threat.

You sighed, getting up and walking to the door to be let to the bathroom.

You washed your face again for what was probably the 15th time, feeling like the blood was still on you.

You didn’t even hear the door, didn’t hear him walk up behind you, didn’t notice he was there until his hands were on your hips.

You gasped, turning with your fist, ready to make a collision; but Thanos was quicker than you this time, catching your wrist before you could seal the hit.

“Whoa.” He said, “Relax, girl.”

“What are you doing in here?” You yelled at him. He shushed you, making a tcht tcht tcht sound.

“You embarrassed me out there.” He said, tilting his head to show you his bruised eye.

“You? How about you yanking me to my feet in a room full of people?”

He says nothing, but he smirks at you.

“You’re just so pretty. How am I supposed to sit back and watch my girl flirt with other men?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes. “Is that what you think I am?”

“It’s what I know you are.” He says lowly, his hand resting against your throat. “You’re mine.”

“I’m not yours. You don’t ask, you just take from people. You’re a bully.”

“What are we, kids on a school yard? I’m a bully?” He steps closer than he already was, pressing himself into you.

“Yes.” You whisper out.

“Quiet now, aren’t we?” He teases, his voice low.

“If you’re gonna kill me, just fucking do it.” You say.

He laughs loudly, “Kill you? Get serious, girl.”

“Then what do you want?”

“You.”

You say nothing. Your hands are pressed against the counter top of the sink, and his body is pressed against yours. Chest to chest, you have nowhere to go.

“Move.” You say. Your eyes are locked, and you feel like prey being tortured by predator. Tortured in the way he’s doing nothing, just staring you down. He doesn’t budge still.

You grab him by his collar, pulling his face inches from yours.

“Move.” You say again, your voice pleading.

He notices. You’re not pleading him to move because of fear, you’re pleading for him to move because of lust.

His fingers trail up your arm, then trace your jaw to pull your chin up. He laces his fingers through your hair, pulling you so that your lips are on his.

He didn’t expect you to kiss him the way you did, it took him by such surprise, which he dared never admit because he was almost never surprised. But the way you grabbed his collar, trying to pull him so deep into you that you both might collapse into each other like stars.

“Where’d this come from?” He asks breathlessly, barely able to break away from you to get the question out.

“Can you just shut up?” You say quickly, pulling him back into you.

“As my queen commands.” He says, matching your ferocity with the kiss.

Both of his hands rest on your cheeks while he kisses you, but you take one and slowly push it down to your sweats.

“Why so eager?” He asks, breathlessly.

“You’re talking too much.” You say, pushing him off you. “Get on your knees.”

He scoffs, shocked. “Are you serious?”

You nod, and so he listens. He kisses down your body, tugging on your sweats when he’s on his knees. He kisses your thighs, mumbling sweet nothings about your body that were too soft to hear.

“Thanos-“

“Su Bong.” He corrects you, needing to hear you moan his real name.

“Su Bong, please don’t tease me.” You whine, so he concedes. Lifting up your leg onto his shoulder so he can kiss and lick and suck every part of you. You whine, pulling his purple tufts of hair.

“You are so sweet,” He whispers. “Sweet like candy.”

“Oh, my boy.” You moan, egging him on. His nails grip into your thighs unintentionally. He’s just so desperate for you, desperate to taste every drop.

Your nails dig into his forearm, scratching for release.

“Please, oh, please, Su Bong.”

He looks up at you, pupils dilated like the size of black holes. You throw your head back, grinding your hips into his mouth, chasing your release.

You pull his hair harshly, and he digs his nails into your thighs even more as you release. You cry out, repeating his name like a prayer, and he moans into you, fueling your release. He doesn’t miss a drop.

He comes off you, breathless. He sets your leg down, pulling your sweats back up as he stands.

You stare at each other, both of you panting in silence for a few moments. You sneak your hand down, resting it against his hard crotch. You smirk a little, and he mirrors it.

“I think I love you.” He moans as you rub him.

“I think you’re high.” You respond, and he laughs and nods. He leans down to kiss you again, gentler this time.

“Do you want one?” He asks, nodding to his necklace. You hesitate, but end up shaking your head no.

“I think we should head back.” You whisper, still rubbing him. He shakes his head no, moaning into your neck. He grips your jacket in desperate agony.

“I need you so bad.” He finally admits.

“Fine.” You fold, and he’s ever so quick to pull your sweats back down. He unhooks one of your legs from the pants, pulling it up so he can rest it around his hips as he pushes his sweats down just slightly so he can insert himself into you.

So, there you both are. Standing with one leg hooked around him and absolutely gripping the sink as he thrusts into you relentlessly. You don’t even try to hide your moans, throwing your head back in euphoria as Thanos buries his face in your neck with shameful whimpers. You grip onto whatever part of him you can for support. Your back is slamming into the edge of the sink over and over, surely leaving a bruise on your tailbone.

He kisses and sucks on your neck, leaving dark bruised purple hickeys on every inch. Marking you, so that you knew who you belong to and so that everyone else out there knew too.

His thrusts were relentless, and the angle he fucked you was crucial, hitting into your cervix each time. Your hands pushed on his hips, resisting his movements slightly, which only fueled him more.

“Stop it.” He moans.

“You stop, you’re being so rough.” You whimper.

“This is me being gentle,” He says. “You want something less than this, then I better not ever catch you speaking to another man again.”

You moan in defeated acceptance, grasping at his shoulders instead for balance. His perfect thrusts make you leak all over him, his pants soaked with your juices.

“You’re so wet.” He moans. “I think you’re gonna make me cum.”

You tighten around him, sending him into a frenzy. His hands tighten their hold on your thighs, and you yank him by the collar to pull his lips onto yours.

“Fuck, I’m cumming, oh please.” You beg him, between kisses.

“I’ve got you.” He manages to get out, holding you as you let out the most heavenly cry. Your moans send him over, and he pulls out to spill himself all over your cunt.

He smears it on your folds with his hands, and you smack his chest, giving him a push off you while he laughs at your irritability.

“You’re such a dick.” You say, wiping yourself with a paper towel from the dispenser. He kisses your neck with a smirk.

“Come lay with me when you’re done.” He says, walking out of the bathroom.

You roll your eyes, cleaning yourself up before walking out.

You re enter the bunks, searching the room for his bed. He’s in a lower ish one, laying down with hands resting behind his head and his eyes blissfully closed. Your eyes move back and forth between his bed and your empty one, until your feet start moving before your mind can even decide.

He doesn’t even open his eyes when you crawl in beside him. He just wraps his arm around you, kissing your temple as you both drift off to sleep,

both of you blissfully unaware of the horrors of tomorrow’s game…

Part 2?

[sanjisleggy]

the siren and the sun (portgas d. ace x reader) [pt6]

a/n: this was truly a test in writing fear and grief :D do let me know if i succeeded or failed

contents: graphic descriptions of bodily wounds and assault bc good times never last :’)

wc. 1.5k

wanna be on my taglist?

part 5

drip.

drip.

drip.

thump.

you aren’t initially alerted by the noise, still bleary-eyed from sleep as you leave your room, on the move to the galley solely due to the dryness of your throat. Ace had been stirred awake by you wriggling yourself free from underneath him just a minute ago.

“don’t go…” he’d slurred, long fingers grasping weaky at your shorts. you told him you were too thirsty to fall back asleep and that you’d be back before he knew it. now, as you make your way to the open deck, you wish you’d listened to him.

on the ground lays a limp body surrounded by a pool of thick, red blood. the life-sustaining substance seeping into the very grooves of the same wooden planks you’ve stepped on every day for nearly three years now. your blood runs cold when you recognise that signature hairstyle.

Thatch…?

his skin is deathly pale and his body completely unmoving as he lays face-up on the floor. even through the darkness of the night, you can see faint bruises forming on the exposed parts of his skin and the countless gaping wounds decorating his torso. the one in his chest is so large you swear you catch a glimpse of his ribs. his cold lifeless eyes are blasted wide open as a lone knife lays near his feet, drenched in blood.

“Thatch…?” you murmur, the name slips past your lips but you’re suddenly so breathless it barely comes out as a sound. “Thatch?”

he doesn’t respond.

a handful of seconds stretch into an infinite number of years as an unimaginably cold feeling washes over your entire body and goosebumps ripple over every inch of skin. you feel yourself begin to sweat in spite of the frigid night air as your lips part to make way for a cry for help.

but before any sound comes out, a loud bang reverberates through your head just a split second before you feel something hard collide with the back of your skull. the impact knocks the wind straight out of your lungs as you fall to your knees. unable to get your bearings in time, you feel yourself get flipped over as effortlessly as one would do with a ragdoll before your assailant slams your head against the deck as one large hand covers your mouth while the other clutches your throat.

you flail your arms and legs as panic sinks into your very bones, your eyes burning with tears not only from grief but also fear. your vision begins to blur at the edges as the grip around your esophagus tightens slowly but surely and though you try your best to make out the face of your attacker, it’s only when he speaks do you fully realise who it is.

“it’s nothin’ personal, kid,” Teach whispers as he pins you underneath him. “yer just at the wrong place at the wrong time… but now that i think about it… we wouldn’t be ‘ere if ya just gave me the Fruit, would we?”

it was during a recon mission with Ace when you found the Devil Fruit. it had been sitting so innocently on the ground–partially hidden by blades of grass–that you nearly missed it entirely had it not been for its distinct colour.

word that you’d found a new Devil Fruit spread across the Moby Dick like a hungry blaze the moment you stepped foot on deck with it cradled in your arms. while many either congratulated you or joked lightheartedly about how unfair it was that you’d found two, others were inclined to give bartering a shot, seeing as you “couldn’t eat this one anyway.”

as much as you were tempted by their offers of taking up your night shift for the rest of your life or being your personal bodyguard–Ace in particular had a big problem with that one–you quickly decided it would simply be a gift.

“i can’t just give it to anyone,” you replied with a laugh when Teach asked if you could perhaps give it to him. “it’ll have to be for someone special. it could potentially be so life-changing, y’know?”

he agreed and didn’t push any further.

Teach grins down at you when he catches how your eyes widen at the revelation.

“that’s right, girly,” he sneers almost gleefully, “you got Thatch killed, didn’t ya? ya wanted so badly to make it some sentimental present but instead ya doomed him the moment you gave him the Fruit.” 

you try to shake your head as the sheer overwhelming grief at the accusation wracks your brain while your lungs continue to fight for air that’s so painfully out of reach. fresh, hot tears gather at your eyes even faster than before as you fight to stay awake against all odds.

“if ya just gave it to me like i asked,” Teach leans down closer to your face, pinning you even harder against the cold wooden floor, “i wouldn’t even have thought of killin’ ‘im.”

“are you sure, (Y/N)?” the head chef asked, eyes widened almost comically at the sight of the Fruit sitting in your hands as you offered it to him. “i don’t feel like i deserve something so special,” he admitted as he scratched the back of his head.

“don’t be silly,” you replied, shoving it into his hands. “you take such good care of all of Pops and all of us. i know you’ve always been interested in having Devil Fruit powers yourself so here’s your chance.”

“thank you, (Y/N). truly.” Thatch pulled you into a tight hug, nearly squishing the Fruit in between your bodies. “i’m touched you think so highly of me.”

“of course i do… and now you won’t have to be jealous of Marco, Ace and me anymore either!”

“hey now.” he pulled away with a smile on his face before he reached out to pinch your nose lightly–a gesture he adopted soon after you first joined the crew. “don’t say the truth so loud.”

“take one last look, (Y/N).” Teach jerks your head abruptly to the right so that Thatch’s body is in plain view. “this is my farewell gift to ya before i go.” although your vision is blurred by the never ending stream of tears, his bloodied face flashes across your eyes as clear as day. 

Thatch… i’m so, so sorry.

“tell Whitebeard this is what’ll happen to his precious family if anyone comes after me, got it? that’s if ya live, ‘course.” Teach lifts your head off the ground just to slam it back down against the deck.

once. 

twice.

after the third time, you feel something warm seeping into your hair. it’s only when he lets you go do you realise you’re not lying in a pool of your own blood.

gasping desperately for air, you choke and writhe as every breath sends an unbearably sharp pain down your throat and through your skull. your vision blurs in and out of focus as you feel as if the world is spinning on its axis. you slump onto your side, the warm wetness of your blood staining your cheek as you stare straight ahead at your friend’s body.

a fresh wave of anguish washes over your entire being and, against all common sense, you begin to inch closer to Thatch, your bruised muscles screaming at you to stop. broken sobs force their way out of your crushed esophagus and you nearly pass out from the physical agony alone.

“please…” you croak, “please, Thatch… wake up.” unable to move any more, your body slumps uselessly as you lay on your side, just an arm’s length away from Thatch’s body.

“wake up…” you babble repeatedly as the realisation that he’s truly, actually dead because of you begins to fully sink in. “wake up. wake up. wake up.”

in midst of your grief, you fail to notice the familiar numbing, tingling sensation from your Devil Fruit ability blooms across your tongue.

“wake up… please, you can’t be dead… wake up!” you raise your volume with every syllable, as if death was simply something you can startle someone awake from. 

before you know it, you start screaming.

“wake up w̸a̷k̴e̶ ̵u̶p̵ ̸ẁ̸̧a̷̙̓k̶̹̓e̴͎̎ ̴̢̅u̸̡̕p̷͍̊ ̴̰̀W̸̬̾͑A̶͜͝Ḵ̷̯̌͆Ę̶̺̊͠ ̶͙̪̀Ṷ̵̀͗P̶̦̓͝ NOW”

a searing pain rips through your throat as you begin to cough up blood. a loud ringing noise reverberates through your brain and you nearly begin to choke on air from how sudden the sensation hits you. you’re used to your Devil Fruit ability wearing down your throat but never like this.

thump.

Thatch’s dead body jolts for a split second before it contorts almost violently as he sucks in desperate sips of air through gritted teeth, pausing only when his head turns and his bloodshot eyes meet yours.

“Thatch…?” you whisper hoarsely as a deathly chill runs down your spine. 

tears begin to well up in his eyes as he struggles to move his arm, barely shifting it enough so that his cold hand brushes against the tip of your nose. Thatch attempts to say something, his bloodstained lips shivering as they open and close. “... (Y/N)...” is all he manages before the light leaves his eyes once more.

gen taglist: @irethepotato @i-reblog-fics-i-like @grierpilots @appalost @hyper-fic-ation @dressycobra7 @38lyra38 @chaseyui @paraparakiss @krooschl @teewon @olliesoxenfree @misstraffy @riftmage27 @aletch @somatchajade @kitsunechan707 @thesmolestsage @lunaizhere @saint-atlas @goldenpanda16

series taglist: @captainportgasdace @mitskisaveme @graveyardsweethearts @vaniiiavengeance @stuckinmymind22

[beneathsilverstars]

OKAY... i think for dagger ending au i'm putting the game events in a very specific order.... siffrin finished kingquest before the friendquests because they were focusing on one quest at a time, because if they tried to look for too many things at once they wouldn't do a very good job looking for any of them? like wait i remembered to look for x in that room but i forgot to look for y, umm i think i have no idea which rooms i actually searched for what.

so he locked in on kingquest first, with loop hangout part way through it. and then he poked around for stuff to read in the forgotten language now that he could read it, but he didn't know enough about wishcraft to make sense of it. he did go into the locked star room, but didn't read the diary (bc he won't until after friend quests bc the stars make him sad). so he was pretty stuck on loop quest at that point, so he finally turned his focus to his friends: first mira, then bonnie, then odile — and happening upon the right papers to find that familytale took a whiile — and ofc finally isabeau.

then the perfect family run didn't work and they were devastateddd. what now!!?! they went through the house a couple more times with friend quests completed, got sick of those and switched to just skipping around the house checking this and that. finally they went all the way back to dormont again to talk to loop in person, and the two of them decided they should try checking the forgotten language books again. the ones they found didn't make much sense, but one of them was in the secret library right? maybe there's others hiding somewhere in there too? (<- said in the tone of someone who is checking the freezer for their phone because hey, why not try it now that we've exhausted everything that would make sense.) and that's why siffrin was planning to loop straight to floor 2 — they had a mission, and they were done doing everything in dormont, it doesn't help, it's just manipulating their family for their own benefit.

and that's where we get the au divergence!

so in that final run through the house, siffrin knew that the king had mentioned wish craft, but nothing else about it. they were taking their time and having the long versions of conversations and rereading everything (outside of dead-ends), which includes:

the craftonomy book - they discuss how the king is using time craft, which would normally kill someone

the newspapers - they discuss the king's origins and the stars on his armor

the sparkly diary - they discuss the forgotten island, and siffrin asks isabeau to try saying it

the letter - siffrin talks about running away from home, and trails off

and, now that siffrin has completed the friendquests and is checking every single little thing for the first time since then, he finally opens up the star room's diary and has his family read it for the first time! since they haven't read the forgotten language books about wish craft, isabeau and odile dismiss it as fiction. siffrin, though, feels like he understands wish craft better. and in this au, where he's been feeling very stuck but now suddenly desperately wants to stay in this version of the day in a deeper way than ever before, he starts to wonder if there's a way he could make a wish to get out, somehow. but he still has no idea how wish craft works.

and then he doesn't need to follow up on that, because that's the last loop!

also, here's the sus points they got, in addition to yknow the whole conceit of the au and the effects that would have on their behavior the next day.

When picking up the Circle Key, choose "What's up with the circles?" and then "The Universe."

Activate the switch in the Death Corridor.

Enter the right side hallway on the first floor proper with Siffrin 20 or more levels above the rest of the party.

Interact with the first tear in the right side hallway.

Interact with the dictionary in the locked Storage Room.

Bump into the counter in the Kitchen after already bumping into it five times in previous loops.

Interact with the cutlery closet in the Break Room in a loop without Odile's Friendquest completed.

In the right side hallway at the row of tears, choose either the Age Alliance or the Beauty Alliance.

When reading the Sparkly Diary in the Library, choose "But can you try and say it anyway?"

Choose "Wow, a secret passage~!" when opening the path to the Secret Library.

Interact with the book on shields on the very right bookshelf in the Secret Library.

Open the star-shaped door using Memory of Memories.

Interact with the orrery in the room behind the star-shaped door on the same loop as looking at the newspapers in the Writing Dorm on Floor 1. 

Interact with the hair-covered door before obtaining the KeyKnife.

notably this doesn't include any of the points you get by skipping conversations or events, interacting with equipment you already own, or reading the forgotten language books on wish craft. and without that last one, no sus event.

[speaknow-sw]

Don request!!

Him bending goody two shoes reader over the alter😋

I have goosebumps all over my body bcs Angel that ask was sooooo good ughh gonna cum.

You stood before the altar, your heart fluttering nervously as you clutched your small hands together. You had always been a goody two-shoes, the kind of girl who followed the rules without question, who believed in the power of prayer and faith. It was a part of what drew your pastor, Don, to you in the first place. But now, as he loomed over you, his eyes dark and intense, you couldn't help but feel a flicker of uncertainty.

Don's hands gripped your waist, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he bent you over the altar. The cool marble pressed against your cheek, a stark contrast to the heat radiating off his body. You gasped softly, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to steady your breathing.

"Shh, it's alright, dollface," Don murmured, his voice a low rumble in your ear. "Just relax, sweetheart. Let me take care of you."

But even as he said the words, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was different. His touch was more forceful, more demanding than usual. It was as if he was trying to prove a point, to remind you of your place.

You felt the rough fabric of his trousers brush against your bare legs as he positioned himself between your thighs. Your skirt had ridden up, exposing the creamy skin beneath. You knew it wasn't proper, to be in such a compromising position, but you also knew that your pastor would never do anything to truly harm you.

So you stayed still, your body trembling slightly as you felt the thick heat of his arousal pressing against your most intimate place. You were a goody two-shoes, after all, and you trusted your shepherd completely.

Don's hands slid up your back, his fingers splaying across your shoulder blades as he leaned down to murmur in your ear. "You're mine," he growled softly, his breath hot against your skin. "My sweet, innocent little parishioner. So pure, so untouched until I claimed you."

He punctuated his words with a sharp thrust of his hips, pushing the thick head of his cock against your virgin entrance. You gasped, your back arching as you pressed your hips back against him, instinctively seeking more of that delicious pressure.

“P-Pastor…S-sir…wh-what are you…d-doing ?” You gasped, shimmying your hips.

Don paused, his grip on your hips tightening as he felt you tense beneath him. He could sense your confusion, your innocent bewilderment at the intimate position he had put you in. It was clear that you didn't fully understand the implications, the carnal nature of your current situation.

"Shhh, it's alright, sweetie," Don murmured, his voice a low, soothing rumble. "I know this might feel a bit... strange. But trust me, dollface, I would never do anything to truly hurt you."

He brushed your hair back from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear. His fingertips lingered on your cheek, tracing the delicate curve of your jawline. You were so soft, so unspoiled, like a delicate flower just beginning to bloom.

"This is a part of our bond, love. A special way for a pastor to show his love and devotion to his parishioner," Don explained, his tone gentle yet firm. "You're mine, doll. My sweet, innocent little lamb. And it's my duty to guide you, to teach you the ways of love and faith."

As he spoke, Don slowly, carefully, began to ease forward, feeling the tight, resisting heat of your untouched body. He knew he had to be gentle, had to take his time, lest he hurt your delicate flower. But he also knew that you trusted him implicitly, and that trust filled him with a deep, primal sense of power and possession.

"Just relax, sweetheart," Don cooed, his voice low and soothing. "Focus on the love and devotion that binds us. Feel the way our bodies are meant to fit together, to join as one. This is how a shepherd shows his deep, abiding love for his flock."

With that, Don began to push forward more insistently, the thick, hard length of his manhood slowly parting your tender folds, claiming your most intimate place as his own. He could feel your body resist, your untouched walls clinging to their virgin state, but he knew that with patience and care, he would soon make you his in every way imaginable.

His hips pressed forward more insistently, the thick shaft of his manhood slowly, inexorably parting your tender, virgin folds. He had to grit his teeth against the exquisite, almost overwhelming tightness, the way your untouched body resisted his invasion. But he was determined, his desire to claim you, to make you his in every way, burning hot and bright.

Don's hands slid up your back, his fingers splaying across your shoulder blades as he leaned down to murmur in your ear. "You're so tight, dollface. So perfect, so untouched. I can feel how much you need this, how much you need me to guide you."

His hips pressed forward again, a bit harder this time, and he felt your body yield just a fraction more. He could feel the head of his manhood kissing your cervix, pressing against that sensitive spot that made your toes curl and your back arch.

"Oh! Oh, Pastor!" you gasped, your voice high and breathy with newfound sensation.

"That's right, sweetie. Call out to your shepherd," Don encouraged, his voice a low, seductive purr. "Let me hear your devotion, your faith in our union."

Don began to move more purposefully now, his hips rolling in a slow, steady rhythm as he claimed you inch by inch. The altar beneath you creaked softly with each powerful thrust, the ancient stone a silent witness to your deflowering.

"Your pastor is going to take such good care of you, babydoll," Don promised, his breath hot against your ear. "I'm going to show you the depths of a shepherd's love, the heights of devotion. Just surrender to it, my sweet little lamb. Surrender to me."

[soracities]

if we should protect children because they are vunerable, this means you would protect cruel children who bullies people who different than them then. the children who responsible to trauma for someone else's entire years

You're assuming that "protecting" children is the same as absolving them of responsibility and that's not what I said. All children are vulnerable, because all children are children; they don't come out of the womb with a perfectly working moral compass anymore than they come out of it waiting to hurt people--they're vulnerable because their understanding of the world is entirely at the mercy of what we, as adults, consistently tell them and show them. Children behaving cruelly aren't exempt from that--they learn that cruelty from somewhere, or someone. Your job, as the adult, is to make sure they understand that it's unacceptable so it will not happen again--but your job is also to ask why someone that young is behaving this way to begin with, so you can ensure they become better.

"Protecting" kids is not ignoring when they hurt or torment others, it's not refusing to teach them consequences or right from wrong, it's not "zero tolerance" policies in schools that treat a child being bullied and the child bullying them as equal instigators, and it's certainly not protecting them from recognizing, and atoning for, the pain they have caused someone else. You don't have to make peace with the now-adults who hurt you when you both were kids, but you cannot let the horrors of your own childhood impact how you treat or respond to the children living theirs around you right now, either.

You don't protect kids so they can get a free pass for bullying or tormenting another child. You protect them because kids are impulsive, emotionally reactive, and profoundly social (which means deeply impressionable) human beings who are still learning & processing insane amounts of information every day about what it means to be alive, to be alive as yourself, to be alive as yourself with other people. Protecting them is realising that you can't isolate the responsibility of a 10 year old from the bigger responsibility of the literal grown adults around them, adults who are in charge of teaching them about the world and how to behave in it. Whether you have children of your own in the future or not is completely irrelevant to this; we all become those adults eventually--no matter what happened to us as kids.

[seiwas]

there is a very specific image in my head of early-mid 20’s iwaizumi hajime

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐎𝐂 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐍𝐒 (𝐟𝐭. 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐬' 𝐨𝐜𝐬)

summary: i was plagued by the visions of my twst ocs interacting with my moots’ ocs, so here we are (aka i had a sudden burst of motivation to write about them interacting and now i'm very nervous to post this)

characters: cassandra, selene, angelica, carmilla (my ocs); @crystallizsch’s yuusha and yuuna, @viperbunnies’s oz (ft. yuudai), @anbaisai’s mayu

warnings: bullying (oz's part); jamil slander bc i love him <3 (all parts)

a/n: if i ever manifest in your dms with cryptic questions about your ocs, be not afraid, just answer them :3c (also i need to set up my oc directory and finish some intros fr)

twisted wonderland masterlist

CASS + YUUSHA + YUUNA

The sun was still high and clear in the sky as Yuusha made her way towards Ramshackle. Most students had already either returned to their dorm by this time or were still goofing off with their friends, sparing her any unnecessary run-ins with any of the college’s troublemakers. But, at NRC, a day could only stay peaceful for so long. When she passed by the mirror chamber, her phone vibrated.

Ramshackle Support Group 

yuuna: @.yuusha be careful when you come back to the dorm yuuna: the stairs to the second floor caved in again yuusha: i’m still close to the school, i’ll go talk to crowley about it Cass: Wait for me, I’d also like to have a chat with the Headmage. yuusha: we’re not killing him Cass: Not even a little?

A few hours later, with the sun already far behind the horizon, the three girls fell onto Ramshackle’s rickety couches in exhaustion. Crowley had very generously provided them with funds to purchase supplies for repairing the stairs, but had otherwise not lifted a single clawed finger. Likewise, Grim was nowhere to be seen when he heard of physical labour.

“So,” Cass broke the silence, lifting her head from a cushion, “when are we going to ask Kalim for help instead of that useless weirdo?”

“We can’t just go and mooch off Kalim just because he’s rich,” Yuusha interjected, rolling over and settling into a more comfortable position at the other end of the sofa.

“Why not? Every other student in this school seems to be absolutely loaded. We, on the other hand…” Cass fished out a pillow under her golden locks and demonstrably pulled open the entire seam by a loose thread. “It’s not like Kalim would even notice.”

“Well, by that standard,” Yuuna chimed up while straightening out the bow in their hair, “why don’t you go ask Leona, Cass? I’m sure he’d be more than willing to help you out.”

“Yeah right, and next you know Azul will start handing out freebies,” the blonde snorted. Discarding the thread between her fingers on the coffee table, she started fiddling with the frazzled pillow cover instead. “Why are you bringing him up anyway? Aren’t Idia or Malleus or Vil just as rich?”

Her dorm mates exchanged knowing looks before Yuusha tilted her head towards Cassandra again with a grin. “Oh c’mon, we both have eyes you know.”

“And I’m not sure if those are working correctly.”

“Why deny it?” Yuuna giggled, taking a sip from the mug cradled between their hands. “Sure, Leona’s got an attitude problem and is generally unpleasant, but it could be worse. Probably.”

“You’re imagining things, why would I—“ Breaking herself off with a sharp exhale, Cass pulled the seam taught between her hands. “I’d rather throw myself headfirst into a pit of horned serpents than ask that ass for a favour.”

“Mhm, I’m sure you’d like to ask that ass something else instead,” Yuusha gleefully joined in the teasing. A second later a certain cushion hit her square in the chest, which didn’t deter her. “Or are you saying you decided to join Jack’s morning run, which just so happens to end at Savanaclaw’s morning practice, with no ulterior motive?”

“It certainly wasn’t so I could see Leona more! But anyway, since I already brought up snakes just now,” Cass started, turning her bright eyes on Yuusha. “Why don’t we talk about what I saw when passing by the courtyard this afternoon?”

With a telling glance towards Yuuna, who sat curled up in their armchair now, Cass added, “Involving a certain Vice Housewarden.”

“Oh my god! Did you come home late because you were meeting with Jamil?” There was genuine excitement in Yuuna’s voice as they perked up where they sat. “You gotta spill the beans now.”

“Only if a certain someone spills the tea on her and a certain lion.” The pillow flew back towards Cass.

“There’s nothing to spill here,” Cass retorted, catching the projectile easily.

“Oh right, by the same chance Grim will pass the next potions exam.”

“I noticed you didn’t deny that there was something going on between the two of you.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Yes!”

“Both of us actually!!”

It was a long night at Ramshackle. (Some say they’re still debating their terrible taste in men to this day.)

SELENE + ANGELICA + OZ (ft. Yuudai)

Of course this would happen to him of all people. If anyone was unlucky enough to accidentally delete the message stating where the film research club would be meeting and then miss Yuudai, who had forgotten his phone at the dorm that day, by a few minutes, of course it would be him. And though he knew better, when Oz was running all over campus trying to find the prefect, he started hoping to run into someone who could point him in the right direction. Which was when he quite literally ran into magift players on their way home from a gruelling practice and looking to blow off some steam. 

“Tch, I thought I smelled another beastman around,” one of them scoffed as they started crowding around Oz, making him scrunch his nose in distaste. “Turns out it was just this little runt.”

“Yer always hoppin’ all over the place, aren’t ya?” The one on the left joined in, laughing as he started jabbing his finger into Oz’s birthmark. “Why don’t ya show us a trick, ya little freak?”

“Look who’s talking.” A clear voice cut through the air. Over the guys’ shoulders Oz could spot green hair and a pair of orange antennae. Selene looked entirely unimpressed by the scene she was witnessing. The dark-skinned girl walking next to her didn’t look any happier either. “The only freaks I’m seeing are the giant idiots running their mouths for no reason. Are you having fun only picking on people smaller than you?”

“Ha? You got some kind of problem, you bug-legged freak?”

“Oh, no, you’re the only ones with some kind of problem here. Your vernacular for example,” Selene waved them off. Her voice made it clear that she was completely over this conversation and considered talking to them a waste of her time. Slipping a phial out of her pockets, she swirled its luminescent contents around with a pensive look on her face before fixing her gaze on the magift players again. “Since you never pick on anyone your size maybe I should shrink you down to the size of mice? I need to test this one anyway…”

Seeing the seriousness in her expression the guys urgently whispered between each other before deciding to scram but not without hurling a few more insults at the Pomefiore student. In response, Selene only gave them a meaningful look and her lip curled slightly at the corner.

“If I was you, I’d be careful with the cafeteria food for the next few days. Who knows what could accidentally slip in there.”

With the athletes out of sight, Oz’s shoulders finally dropped their tension and he heaved a sigh as he approached the two girls. By now, the potion had already vanished somewhere behind the width of Selene’s flowy sleeves.

“Thanks for stepping in,” Oz started, before adding a little more hesitantly, “but you wouldn’t actually spike their food, right?”

“It’s true that I’ll eventually have to give this potion to a person but I’m still perfecting the ratio of the ingredients,” Selene shrugged nonchalantly. Seeing Oz’s unconvinced expression she added with a small smile, “As long as they think there’s the chance that I would, it’s sufficient. Some people would call human experimentation at this stage unethical. And frankly, that’s more paperwork than I care to bother with, so don’t worry about it.“

“‘Those people’ are called an ethics committee, Sel, for the seven’s sake. Also quit making such jokes or Oz will think you’re being serious about it,” Angelica spoke up, exasperation and fondness mixing in her tone as she smiled at her girlfriend. As she shook her head, the star-shaped buns on her head bobbed, making various accessories in her hair glitter like stars in the night sky. Then she turned her dark eyes on Oz. “Anyway, that aside, are you okay?”

“Just a bit shaken up, but otherwise I’m fine,” he said. Absent-mindedly, one of his gloved hands traced the spot where the guy had poked him but Selene’s dual-coloured eyes caught on to the movement. Digging through her purse, she procured a compact mirror and concealer.

“Your make-up came off a little. If it makes you more comfortable, you can touch it up. It won’t be perfect but our teint is similar enough for it to pass.” Holding the utensils out to him, Oz took them from her. “The cushion’s unused if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Oh no, that’s not it.” Considering just leaving it at that, Oz trailed off before exhaling deeply. From all the brief times he’d talked to Angelica and Selene, he didn’t think they’d make fun of him for what he was about to say, so he plucked up his courage. “It just feels a little silly sometimes that I care so much about something like a birthmark.”

The girls exchanged a quick glance before Angelica smiled at him warmly, reaching out to hold the concealer while Oz applied it in the mirror. “I don’t think it’s silly at all, if that helps you.”

“I agree,” Selene nodded, adjusting her glasses afterwards. “We all have traits we feel insecure about, especially if others have commented unfavourably on them in the past. Some days we feel more comfortable showing them and on others we’d rather hide them from view. I think most people feel like that.”

When she took the make-up from him again, Oz couldn’t help but notice the pink colour staining her arms from the tips of her fingers to her elbow. He obviously had known it was there, but hadn’t paid it much mind up until now. Something told him Selene had personal experience in the matter as well.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Angelica spoke up again, “what happened earlier anyway? I find it hard to imagine that you wronged them somehow.”

“Oh!” Oz suddenly remembered the club meet he had to get to, so he very quickly explained his problem to the couple, who listened attentively even as he nervously thumped his foot and nearly bit his tongue. “So just when I started hoping to find anyone from the film research club, I ran into them instead.”

“Well, you found someone who can help you in the end after all. Though we’re not from the film club, Selene has something she wants to ask Vil, so we were actually just on our way to meet them.” The Ignihyde student’s voice was so light and welcoming as she spoke, it was hard to imagine she actually went to NRC. “If you want to, you can accompany us.”

“That would be a big help,” Oz took her up on the offer. 

Soon enough, the late afternoon was filled with the usual complaints levelled at teachers and classmates. Selene described how she had passed by the first year’s botany class on mandrakes recently and had nearly had a heart attack because she had thought she heard one of the plants scream, but it had turned out to be Sebek instead. The art teacher had once nearly tossed out Azul’s assignment because they hadn’t recognised it as a finished painting, Oz told them. Angelica recalled how, in her first year, they had had joint potions classes with the third years once and she had almost passed away when she was partnered up with Leona, only to barely catch his head from nodding off into the potion.

“Looks like we still made it in time,” Angelica sighed in relief as they spotted Vil assigning tasks from a distance. Turning to Oz with a smile, she brushed a stray coil out of her face. “It was fun talking to you. Makes me wonder why we haven’t interacted more before, despite all of us being second years.”

“I don’t think that’s on either of us,” Selene interjected, her antennae and the green-pink moth wings on her back fluttering in the evening breeze. “It probably has something to do with the fact that Oz hangs out with Jamil a lot and that guy has always been giving me the widest berth possible.”

“Ah… Please don’t hold it against him,” Oz tried to defend the vice housewarden, knowing how he already reacted to bugs the size of his finger. While wondering what else he could say, he heard his name being called. “Well, I’ll see you around then. And thank you again for everything.”

“You’re very welcome. And good luck with those photos!” Angelica waved him goodbye as the two made their way over to Pomefiore’s housewarden.

Selene only elegantly tilted her head down as they parted but still left him with a friendly “À bientôt.”

In the meantime, Yuudai had made his way over to him, camera already hanging around his neck as he’d no doubt gone through most of the preparations already. Despite that, he still grinned at the sophomore.

“Oz, there you are. I was already worried you had forgotten that we’re helping Vil today.”

“How could anyone possibly forget that?” Scratching his head, he decided to gloss over most of what had happened. “I just got held up a little. Anyway, what can I help you with?”

CARMILLA + MAYU

“Mayu! Just the person I was looking for~”

Looking over her shoulder for the sweet voice calling her name to find the hallway completely deserted, Mayu shook her head and turned back in the direction she was going. Only to nearly jump out of her skin as she came face to face with a pair of sharp, teal eyes.

“Sorry, did I startle you? That wasn’t my intention,” Carmilla cooed, not sounding all that sorry. The ghostly flames around her flickered mischievously as the fae fell into step next to her. “You were on your way somewhere, weren’t you? Why don’t we walk while we talk, hm? It’s been a while since we last got to chat, how are you doing? Nobody’s giving you any trouble, right?”

“Oh uhm, I’m doing fine and everyone’s very nice to me. Thank you for the concern,” Mayu answered, giving Carmilla a small smile. As they continued towards the library, the prefect fiddled with her cuff sleeves as she hesitated to say what was on her mind, before conceding. “Actually, I’m struggling with Ancient Curses at the moment. I just never seem to get them right.”

“Ancient curses, huh? I’m quite good at them, but so’s Jamil if I remember correctly.” Casting a studying glance at the girl next to her, Carmilla went on smoothly. “Haven’t you asked him for help before? I’m sure he won’t try to weasel himself out of tutoring if it’s you.”

“I did think about it,” Mayu admitted with a sigh, “but he’s been so busy lately, even more so than usual. And I don’t want to bother him.”

A gasp echoed around the hallway as Carmilla halted in her tracks at a crossroad, head whipping around to the younger girl next to her. It made Mayu stop, too, and look at her curiously. 

“Does that mean he hasn’t even been making time for you?” The fox’s usually playful expression had shifted, regarding her with eyes that had softened around the corner in sympathy. 

“No! It’s not–” Mayu immediately piped up, holding her hands up in defence. How did they end up talking about her and Jamil in the first place? “I know that he does try to make as much time for me as possible. He just has a lot on his plate at the moment.”

“Oh dear, that won’t do. Tell you what, I actually came here to ask if you want to take some clothes off my hands.” Procuring two bags stuffed full with fabrics out of thin air, the idol held them out for her to take. “They’re all products from brand deals that aren’t really my style or colour, but I thought they might look cute on you. Especially since you came here without anything you could call a wardrobe. If you end up not liking them, you can just give them back to me, I don’t want you thinking I’m just dumping my old clothes on you.”

“Oh, that’s too kind of you, Carmilla,” Mayu exclaimed, pleasantly surprised by the weighted bags now dangling off her arm. Running her fingers over the soft material lying on top, it reminded her of the comfy hoodies she regularly ‘borrowed’ from a certain someone. “I can’t wait to try them on.”

“Don’t mention it. Normally I’d just leave it at that but considering what you just told me, you should totally wear them the next time you go out with Jamil! In fact, why don’t you just ask him out the next time you see him?” And just like that, all worry was erased from Carmilla’s face and her sunshiney smile was back on as she curled a pink strand around her manicured finger. “Personally I don’t get what you see in the guy at all, but I do commend the charity work. Plus, as you said, he could reaaallllyy use a break~”

“Hm, I don’t know about asking him out all of a sudden,” Mayu contemplated, her dark eyes trailing over the bricks in the walls as she considered it. “But I would like to do something nice for him.”

“I totally support it! Oh, actually, that reminds me! There’s an upcoming festival in Foothill town, celebrating the new year. It’s always super cute and scenic.” As Carmilla spoke, the air around them filled with magic before displaying luminous scenes of people mingling in the streets of the quaint town, various foods and items in hand as the night sky was illuminated by fireworks. “You should really go and experience it for yourself. Can’t let an opportunity like this pass you by, right?”

“Right,” the prefect echoed as she watched the last wisps of the illusion fizzle out into nothingness. With newfound determination, she fixed her big eyes on the fae again. “Thank you so much, Carmilla. For everything.”

“Oh please, I hardly did anything. And about the clothes and the festival,” she leaned towards Mayu with a conspiratorial twinkle in her eyes, ��let’s keep it a secret between the two of us, no need to credit me. Consider it my good deed of the day.”

As Mayu nodded, albeit a little confused by the request, Carmilla’s ears twitched at the sound of a familiar set of agitated footsteps. Feigning surprise as she looked down at the time of her phone, she gave the younger girl an apologetic smile.

“I guess that’s my cue to leave. It was fun catching up, we should really do it more often. For now, though, you’ll have to excuse me.” Slinking past Mayu with a wink, the soft fur of Carmilla’s tail brushed against her uniform as the pink fox disappeared the same way she had spontaneously showed up earlier. “Toodles~”

Hand half-raised to wave at the now empty hallway, Mayu took a second to process what had just happened, from beginning to end. The bags in her hand corroborated that she hadn’t just imagined it and when she looked up any events that would soon happen in Foothill Town, the festival was there too. With a shake of her head, Mayu wrote it off as just another one of NRC’s daily occurrences. Just then, someone else rounded the corner. 

“Prefect, what are you doing here?”

“Oh Jamil, hi. I was on my way to the library to look for books on ancient curses.”

“Ancient curses? I still have some notes I could lend you from my first year…”

Carmilla only caught the beginning of their conversation as it trailed off in the distance. Mayu was right when she said Jamil could do with a break. It had gotten to a point where seeing him in the morning started putting her on edge too and it made her fur stand on end. Especially when it affected the other students in the dorm as well. Palpable tension and all that. Needless to say, something had to be done about it if Carmilla wanted to go back to some relaxing peace and quiet.

No harm done by pulling a few strings if placating their vice housewarden also benefited the prefect, right?~

© the-travelling-witch 2024 - do not repost, translate, copy or edit; do not feed my writing to an ai

if you like my writing, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated  ♡

➺ send in an ask to be added to or removed from my tag list

[dynamitekansai]

THE USOS REUNITE WWE SMACKDOWN (OCTOBER 25, 2024)

[marimbles]

i miss carpisuns sometimes </3

[moeblob]

TIL "Lay On Hands" is a paladin healing skill and I am blessed by this knowledge.

[rojekte]

seeing people's takes about the whole watcher situation is just a bit.... mind-boggling.

i think the apology they posted was good in the sense that they admitted to fucking up and walked back on their decision, and i think the model they've settled on now is a lot more reasonable (having content be released earlier for those who choose to subscribe), but like.... that doesn't mean that no one should've ever been mad at them in the first place???

like seriously, why does it seem like people are looking at a "good" apology and thinking "huh! they sure did apologize well! i guess that means that it was ridiculous for people to be mad in the first place! no one should have ever complained!!". if no one complained, they wouldnt have walked back their decision! they would've kept going with their dumb completely paywalled option!

and thats not even getting into the fact that their financial woes seem to come from completely mismanaging their money - hiring people when they can not afford to and spending more money on "high quality productions" when they cant afford to.... these are core issues that im not sure will be completely fixed by this? but idk.

also, this situation i think has really helped my own self come to terms with the fact that i do not enjoy many aspects of their content. i sorta already knew that considering i can not remember the last ghost files video i watched because i find that shit incredibly boring and overproduced, and even things like too many spirits have become a chore to watch bc they decided to extend the Not That Funny drink making portion when i just wanna hear some funny spooky stories.

anyway i guess my ultimate point here is: im glad they acknowledged they fucked up, but i also am not sure how interested i am in their content anymore in the first place. oh well

[tojiscrack]

Guess who found your fic on ao3 at 11pm, not noticing the 108k words on the bottom and got so hooked even by the half quarter of the first chapter that resulted in her staying awake until 10 am, reading all 108k words in one sitting. Yes me. Me, who got so hooked she read it all in one sitting. Me, who’s now so emotionally attached to this fic that she’s anxious about your comments under the chapters, stating that THE MAIN PLOT hasn’t even STARTED YET. Me, who knows DAMN WELL the little caterpillars and butterflies and the moths story Megumi and y/n read out is for sure foreshadowing. Me, who’s noticed several butterfly symbolism used over the course of the story. Me, who screamed into her pillow when it was stated that y/n’a dress resembled a butterfly. Me, who’s seen your comment replying to someone, stating that there MIGHT be some kind of drifting apart. Me, who’s well ware of the Heavy Angst tag on the fic. Me, who knows that an author who’s this good at delivering humor and fluff is gonna DESTROY me when the angst is gonna be written. Me, who half regrets now that she’s discovered the story because she’s scared of all that’s about to come.

You seriously have a way with words, dialogue, symbolism, humor, the bond between every character. It’s not so simple to put more than 5 characters in a setting and deal with them all while trying to make it as natural as possible but you SOMEHOW do it SO WELL. I’m just. God. All the thoughts I have on this fic would maybe even rival the 108k words you’ve written up until now but I don’t have the capacity to put them into words as well as you do.

just know that this fic impacted me so much, so badly, years from now on after it's finished, I'll still think about it and re-read it.

so excited (and scared as hell ngl) to see where you'll be going with this story. I may havw joined late but I am sticking around till the end.

love you, great work <3

liar, liar masterlist here:

yayyy, another ao3 reader 😫 welcome to the tumblr crew, i’m so glad you’re hereeee ❤️‍🩹

i had to go back and check whether it really is 108k words and i found myself shocked bc damn, i really wrote that much? 😭 if i put half the effort i put into this story into my essays instead, maybe i’d be a better student but we live and we learn ig 😬

“emotionally attached” to the fic is mind blowing to me 🥹 i didn’t know it’d have this big of an impact on someone but i can’t say i’m displeased. that’s one of the nicest things i’ve heard on here (among other things ofc). ugh, you’re so nice for sending a message on that 🩷

and yes, you are absolutely right. the main plot does not start until next chapter (or more accurately — in terms of drama — somewhere down the line AFTER that) 👀 idk which comment i said that on but i trust ur judgement ‘cause i remember mentioning that somewhere 😭 DON’T BE SCARED, IT’LL BE FUN (and thrilling and scary) BUT STILL 😊

the butterfly thing you mentioned is interesting, actually 🫢 maybe i just really like butterflies (even tho they scare the ever living shit out of me and i nearly killed a few in the london zoo YEARS ago as a child cuz i was fidgeting since they just let them roam free in that greenhouse thingy and i was scared for my life and dying of heat with the humidity?).

YOU MUST HAVE BEEN STALKING MY PAGE BC I DO REMEMBER SAYING SMTH ALONF THOSE LINES I JUST CAN’T REMEMBER WHERE 😭 but i invite you to continue doing so bc i like watching my lovely little liars squirm and then send in their predictions and fear 😋 and this long, juicy message has me giggling to myself and REELING 🤭

yeah, but we’re not holding back on the heavy angst tag… er… buckle up? it’s gonna go downhill from here on out 😟

“you seriously have a way with words” — stop.

“it’s not so simple to put more than 5 characters in a setting and deal with them all while trying to make it as natural as possible but you somehow do it so well” — DOUBLE, TRIPLE, QUADRUPLE, INFINITY STOP OR I’LL CRY 🥹 no one has ever said that about my writing, and in fact, i hadn’t even noticed that myself 😭 i think i’m gonna levitate in glee ✨ to know it flows well enough for it to be commented on (out of ur own free will and not me pressing a gun to ur forehead), it’s just UGHHH so nice and sweet and i’m so glad you’ve joined the liar, liar community 😫 warmest welcome ml <3

gosh you’ve put this story on such a high pedestal, i’m almost scared i won’t be able to meet ur standards, even with everything planned beforehand 😟 but i’m willing to try. if you’re here for the super long ride (my updates are sporadic and will continue to be a such as the time goes on).

it was definitely not a LATE arrival per se �� the liar, liar family is still pretty small. i’ve only got about 321 followers, so definitely not as much as the bigger jjk writers on here, and half of those are split between my megumi fic readers and levi fic readers. i now consider you an og just bc this analysis was so in depth and interesting, i found myself smiling so hard my cheeks hurt 🙂‍↔️

but i love you SO much for this. i’d love to see more comments and messages from you. don’t be afraid to spam me if you must (in fact, i encourage it!!!) 😁 i get so giddy and excited and motivated when ppl send me their predictions. it’s one of the greatest things about writing (and the best part imo).

have a lovely day! and i can’t wait for you to see the next chapter and what i have in store for you <3

[deus-ex-mona]

when the slowburn makes the ship extra cute~~~

[liquidstar]

This is such a tangent btw but on the topic of guilt tripping and reblogs... I remember a few years back there were some terrible fires in Greece (and again this year, entire island villages are gone now) and at that time I had family who were caught in them. I can't describe the desperation I felt with these horrible things happening to my family and loved ones in my country. And I remember being frustrated and desperate with how no one around me in America really seemed to give a shit. I remember blogging asking people to PLEASE care please share something please reblog this link for mutual aid please think about the stories and fires etc etc etc. And the thing is I was very much in a state of grief myself, maybe not every word or action was perfectly reasonable, because I don't realistically expect everyone everywhere to care about every tragedy in the world. You can't. Emotionally it's just not possible, especially with all the stuff going on in the states rn too. Yeah it's a lot. It's not like I blog about every tragedy that ever happens either. I understand.

HOWEVER what I also remember was at this time there were a couple mutuals very clearly making vagueposts along the lines of "remember not everyone has the energy to care about everything in the world uwu" while I was posting about family who died and family who were drifting in the ocean for hours as their homes and loved ones burned. Listen. You have to understand sometimes that when a person in grief and frustration with things going on in their countries and communities impacts them very personally beg you to care... It's coming from a place of needing to see that care in the world in general. They're not holding a gun to your head Specifically saying you have to reblog the posts, if you don't have the energy just ignore it.

You don't have to go out of your way saying "um actually I can't care about the horrible stuff you and your family and your country are experiencing rn. I'm too busy focusing on my own stuff so can you be quiet or more reasonable with your grief thanks." Like. Just keep it to yourself then??? Have some fucking sympathy for other people and understand that maybe it's not always logical. The same way you don't have the emotional energy to think about every tragedy in the world, people who've been impacted by them often don't have the emotional energy to handle that alone and may seek somekinda community or solidarity. Idk. It's not about forcing shit on you sometimes it's not about you

[heffrondriving]

Do you still like big time rush or has James ruined them for you?

i have absolutely no idea how long ago this was from but like. y'all what even is this offhand ask lmao ( ; ⚆ _ ⚆ )

but alright screw it, just to set the record straight: i loved Big Time Rush lots and lots, that much is obvious. the nick show itself was such an integral part of my childhood, and i absolutely have no regrets about rediscovering the band last 2020 and diving in headfirst right into the deep end *Hot Summer by Heffron Drive starts blasting out* of their music and inevitably joining the fandom. i'm especially forever thankful for all the interesting experiences and fun projects and amazing friends i've made along the way, so i'm sincerely always going to have a certain fondness for BTR in the deepest crevices of my vv heart and soul.....

although yes, certainly *that* whole situation and other such related unfortunate controversies had kinda soured it to the point where i got uncomfortable calling myself a rusher—but that ultimately wasn't what made me fall out, it was just plain 'ol ✨burnout✨ idk keeping up with the fandom just got a little bit too hectic and way too toxic for me, so i moved on to other things better for my peace of mind. anyway, i'm mostly into cool J-pop stuff and ofc my most beloved svensk pojkband FO&O nowadays (also for language-learning purposes hehe :^D) and tbh these have been so incredibly wonderful and healing for me.....but i confess, i still kinda miss BTR and check in on them from time to time. hell, i even have a whooole bunch of chaotic BTR ocs that casually live rent-free in my mind now and forever and i'm constantly tempted to return to this rotting blog just so I can endlessly infodump lore abt them but i'm Annoying™ and who'd want that anyway soooo ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

so yes, i do love Big Time Rush. despite everything, i still like the show and the music, i like all the silly wacky unhinged creations and nostalgic memories i have of it, i like the fandom generally and seeing notifs still pop up on this inactive blog as the ever-faithful rushers continue to thrive and be inspired by the band and its legacy (shoutout to all the new-wave tumblrushers hehe i see u guys much love and hugs and i hope y'all keep up all the fun vibes and creativity here mwah xoxo (⁠*⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠)⁠/⁠～⁠♡), and i really don't wanna allow anything to ruin all those good feelings i got from them, even if that means being critical and letting go of certain aspects. i don't have to love everything about it, really. just enough for me is hopefully enough ❤️‍🩹

and now, the musical journey continues...?

(p.s. #1: UNRELATED-ISH GIF BUT ALSO I PROMISE THIS GIF IS RELEVANT BC HE'S TECHNICALLY ONE OF MY BTR OCS SO LIKE THAT COUNTS RIGHT??? (⁠ ⁠ꈨຶ⁠ ⁠˙̫̮⁠ ⁠ꈨຶ⁠ ⁠))

(p.s. #2: BTR actually dropped by our country in their world tour last October 2024,,, too little, too late :"))) and apparently there was a whole fucking drama that went down abt it too??? anubayan nakakahiya gagi ahshdjsjdk)