#it’s a very specific shape and i fucked it up lol

[avese23]

I read this three times and still can barely see how you missed the point so terribly and normally I would correct you kindly but this is not an academic space and this is about the honor of lesbians so claws open, friend.

OP didn’t mention sex. OP mentioned women. I didn’t mention sex. I mentioned lesbians.

Only you brought up sex. You saw the word lesbian and your mind jumped to sex. Put your angry typing thumbs down and examine that.

Now either you’ve blocked me, tuned me out, or maybe you’re still reading. Comprehension, that’s sexy of you. We can work with that.

OP from reasonable assumption, was discussing the phenomenon of people who primarily drift toward male characters but have internalized misandry beating them out of shape cuz how could anything masculine be positive? We need to feminize him. Here warps the misandry into misogyny as you see tumblr users turning “post your favorite female character” posts into “well, he’s a woman to me.” Hence frustration, especially because often times character traits seen as charitable and tropable in male characters are received with annoyance or hatred when seen in female characters. If you’re still paying attention, what’s your favorite color? Hence OPs point.

I, picking up on this context, could see where OP is coming from. The internet do be misogynistic. The internet also struggles with shame around liking men. A lot of spaces are one skip away from transmisogynist rhetoric, it’s concerning. Anywho, as someone who rarely sees this problem off the internet I offered a positive to the vent.

A little tongue in cheek but also great fucking advice. Because if you’re sick of people putting male characters on a pedestal there’s nothing like a lesbian to reinstate your faith in feminist approaches to media. Not because they have “temporary desires” (also what are you smoking?? cuz I get that I’m demi but you’re the first person aside from cis men named Brad I’ve heard call any feeling toward a woman a temporary desire.) but because however sick the average person might be of the gender gap in media, lesbians are more sick of it. Google “heteronormativity,” talk to anyone about the exhaustion of having men thrown at you when you’ve dedicated yourself to a lifestyle based on who you are as a person that specifically centers women. As people. Cuz lesbians are people. Repeat that for me if you’re listening.

Regarding the quotation you’ve put…(which, no clue where you got that from? Like genuinely did you reblog from the wrong post by mistake? If so feel free to delete this and block me cuz this would be very funny content if the dignity of my fellow dykes. Like I was upsetty for a second but this is the second most amusing tumblr mix up I’ve gotten so no hard feelings) you seem to be under the assumption that I don’t like lesbians?? Or that people who lesbians aren’t attracted to cant like lesbians?? Which is weird cuz lesbians are objectively cool af. And my ace gf is a lesbian who I’m very attracted to so…again I don’t know where you’re drawing your sparks from.

Tbh I don’t blame you if you haven’t gotten this far. My brain is on tired mode and your response was so off target that this is less even about responding to you and more my adhd hyperfixating on close reading your text in some futile attempt to see what straws you were grasping. I haven’t had time to get to my sociology tbr and I don’t have an essay due till next week so this was genuinely engaging for my brain. I can’t solve the puzzle of what mistake you made but maybe you have so rejoice to that. OP sorry this is on your post I do not know where they came from but I think I’ve shooed them off lol.

Anywho. Why are you still reading. Despite my greatest efforts I am not a lesbian. I’m an equally sexy dyke but not the same kind. Now go befriend a lesbian! This person is stalling for some reason but you don’t have to. Go talk about how Kylo Ren would have been more engaging if he was written as a woman. Go talk about how Faith Lehane deserved better. Go talk about how Harrowhark is trying her very best and needs a hug but please ask before touching.

And remember the three tenants:

1. Be respectful to lesbians. Implying they’re only about women for the sex is a harmful homophobic stereotype. Also if it were true my besties would be dating but we have a bookclub group chat where they perform literary analysis over fictional instead of flirting. Maybe this poster shouldn’t talk to them if you’re gonna be offensive. They’re busy reading.

2. If you want a meaningful relationship with anyone using terms like “temporary desires” is not a way to do it. “Oh but I don’t do that romance or sex stuff” ok but you can try doing the empathy and common sense stuff. Other people won’t find your dismissal of their sexuality “a flex.” It will make finding friends hard

3. If you’re having trouble explaining a point…maybe the point isn’t ready to be out yet. Don’t embarrass yourself by butting into a conversation that’s nothing to do with the frustration in your head. If you don’t like explaining things, or drawing off of actual sources, go to twitter. This might not be the site for you. There are a lot of lesbians here (ooo espooky) and women who know how to read (eee scary) and like to befriend each other (le gasppp) it can be a lot 😔 <- this is irony btw

"he's like a woman to me!!!" not true because if he was a woman to you you wouldn't give a fuck about him

[bandtrees]

they would get divorced in one universe just to find eachother in another one

alternatively titled: sometimes you're the level-headed token flesh-head impulse-control-and-polycule-member of a stubborn, eccentric, and hearty telephone-headed drug addict, and there's cruelty in the world you deem fit to suicidally fight, and that either goes about as well as you'd expect it to, or you learn about love and the value of your life and junk along the way

[oozeandgoo-art]

[the-trans-dragon]

Hehehe >:3 got a kissie and some headpats from a pretty girl >:3 muahahahahahaha >:3

[waywardsalt]

writing down some notes for bellum traits/speculative biology/whatever so here's a couple so far

he's cold blooded but can't die due to extreme temperatures, it just makes it harder for him to function.

amphibious in the sense that he can survive in both water and air, though he doesn't really need to breathe, if anything he mostly interacts with water and air through traversal differences.

he does move like a squid, he can just float around but to move faster he does need to move his tentacles for slight propulsion and steering, and does intake and jet out water or air for some extra speed. he is not literally a squid creature but he is very similar.

he's got little barbs on the undersides of his tentacles (similar to the texture of a cat's tongue) which help with grabbing onto and holding things.

he can pull his main eye down into his body if he wants to use his mouth as... a mouth, or when he creates those little goop things or otherwise to spit out that purple substance.

[captain-joongz]

Cinderella

Pairing: club owner!Min Yoongi x f!reader x right-hand man!Jung Hoseok

Genre: non-idol au, pure fucking smut i'm not even playing, a hint at s2l??

Summary: Question - what is something that might help a shameless brat trapped in a body of a shy girl come out of her shell? Answer - two hot owners of a local club more than happy to whip her into shape.

Word count: 19.7k (i'm sorry lol)

Warnings: ginger Yoongi and that mama 2022 red carpet Hoseok (*in Britney Spears voice* a guy like you should wear a warning~), intoxication, min yoongi hands, they're softer doms, threesome, oral (f rec.), breath play and slight choking (i'm so predictable), light bdsm themes, spanking, bondage, light use of a whip, humiliation and degradation, reader is a right brat, multiple orgasms, overstim, clit slapping

A/N: indulge in this sope brainrot :). when i tell you this scenario changed my life i'm being only a little dramatic, long live our dom kings and i will die on this hill

„Come on Y/N, you should totally give it a try!” one of my friends exclaimed, drunkenly leaning on another one of our gals to her right, “You never know! And you should be more confident!” Other girls sitting around the dingy sticky table in the club we were currently in all enthusiastically nodded and grumbled their own supportive comments.

I looked over them, still unsure, and then back to the ginger man sitting on the bar, relaxedly swirling a glass of an amber gold liquid and occasionally taking a sip. He wasn’t really talking to anyone, just sat there and watched the two guys manning the bar wordlessly, which in my friends’ opinion made him an ‘easier target’.

Target of the stupidest game our drunken brains could have come up with – whoever manages to seduce a guy the quickest drinks for free for the rest of the night. The second that suggestion hit the table, I loudly opposed it, for two reasons.

First, it seemed kinda mean. And secondly, and most importantly, I was terrified of coming up to someone and just flirting. That’s not something I did, not that I was against it or for the lack of trying, and occasionally I entertained when someone came up to me and flirted, sometimes even going home with them. But I was shy, and when I got shy I got painfully awkward, so I’d rather save myself from that embarrassment.

“Yeah, it would do you some good,” my best friend Yeri, a tall thin pretty girl with her hair dyed cupid pink, suddenly turned to me and joined into the fray, “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re super hot and somehow you don’t realise it at all.” She was already a little tipsy as well, her posture more relaxed than usual as she giggled along every other word. There’s no love like drunk girl talking to her friends.

“That’s easy for you to say, you already finished your mission!” I whined back to her, the whole table’s undivided attention on me. To keep the stakes high and the game fair, we collectively selected a few guys and randomly divided them between us – each of us went to a specific man that was chosen by us and given to each girl.

But mine was out of this world, like unfairly so out of my league it would be embarrassing to even try. The moment I lost the game of rock paper scissors, I tried to bargain my way out of it – there was no way I could bag a guy like that in under a minute! That was insanity! But the girls wouldn’t budge, telling me to challenge myself and have faith in myself. That was easy of them to say when they didn’t have to walk up to a god amongst men and try to awkwardly flirt with him.

“Look at that guy, if I tried to talk to him he’d probably think I’m the valet or something,” I continued to grumble, as the constant stream of complaints didn’t stop since I lost the game.

Our attention collectively jumped back to him as he sat there. He had the kind of smirk on his face that was annoyingly effortlessly hot, giving him the aura of someone who was very well aware of his otherworldly qualities. The black tee with some kind of white print was oversized just right to be fashionable and hung off of his frame in a way that enhanced his physique in the best way. Black cargo pants and black boots gave him a punk vibe, and the whole look was finished with some chunky steel rings and necklaces that somehow managed to be even more hot and not look gaudy at all. My eyes trailed down to the rings, which were comfortably sat on one of the best hands I’ve ever seen, and I had to physically stop myself from drooling.

Yeah, there’s no way in hell I could just hit on that.

“What’s the worst that could happen? He says no. It’s worth a try,” Hana, another part of the friend group tried to wheedle me into going one more time. They all probably sensed I was about to give them another rebuttal, and an understanding passed through all of them.

Suddenly several pairs of hands were manhandling me, pulling me onto my legs and out of from the booth with the table we were sitting at. I let myself be pushed to the edge of the seat, too confused about what’s going on. Someone pushed a glass of alcohol in my hand and I downed it, resigning myself to this happening. A wave of compliments and encouragements washed over me, and I turned on shaky knees, those several drinks I’d already had making themselves known now that I was stood.

I took a step forward, froze, another few steps, and then promptly power-walked all the way back to the table. There was some booing and some disappointment, the girls already grumbling about how I shouldn’t chicken out now.

“How do you even flirt with someone like that?!” I hissed out in panic, not having the slightest idea of how to initiate conversation.

A barrage of tactics flew over me, one stranger than the next one, but I turned to Yeri, trusting her the most. “Just be really bold, he seems the type to like it,” she told me once she saw my trembling eyes, “walk over all confident and say something really crazy and ballsy.” With one last smile she started pushing me away into the direction of the bar again.

Easier said than done! ‘Just be bold’, thanks very much! That was the problem from the very beginning!

Putting my complaints away and pushing my brain to think of something to say to the rapidly approaching bar-dweller, I nervously dragged my gaze over him several times, stumbling in my distractedness several times. Come on brain, what do we like about him? What can we say?

As the man got closer and I got a clearer look at him, one thought overpowered every other – hands hands handshandshands.

I basically crashed into the bar upon my arrival, somewhat inelegantly attempting to lean into it with way too much force. The man startled a little before his eyes jumped up and looked straight at me, no distinct emotion discernible in them, but he certainly didn’t look extremely friendly.

Before I could stop myself, I let go of the reins over my drunken brain and blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“What nice necklaces you got there, but don’t you think they’d look better around my neck?”

I tried to sell the statement more by putting on a (hopefully) cheeky smirk and then pointedly looked at his hands coquettishly.

The man froze, only stared at me wide-eyed and shocked to his core, hand holding his glass halfway to his lips. Silence. I started panicking, and basically begun melting down with the shame and humiliation, already prepared to apologise and slink off to some dark corner and die there, but then he smiled.

It was a wide shit-eating grin, a devilish glint in his gaze now as he obviously checked me out, eyes gliding over my figure in a clearly appreciative manner. He put his charm on thick, lips curled smugly as he stared me quite intensely.

“Well, I don’t know princess, guess you’ll have to try them out,” his voice was basically a purr, a deep rumble that started up in his chest and drawled out of his mouth in a velvet perfection. I shuddered, now quickly getting flustered when he was flirting back. But I steeled myself, determined to bring this to a successful end. Mama didn’t raise no quitter.

“Oh, and you’d let me have a test drive?” I drawled out with my fingers playing with my hair (how basic!!), only a light stutter to my words that immediately sent a wave of heat to my already red cheeks. I only hoped it wasn’t visible under the lights of the club and the bar.

He leaned forward, chest now pressed into the edge of the bar, which brought our faces impossibly close. His eyes were dark and half-lidded, full of lust and dark promises, as his lips stretched in a self-satisfied smirk. The hand that used to hold the glass was now slowly, teasingly making its way up the skin of my naked arm, breaking a wave of goosebumps in its wake.

My whole body quivered, and my next exhale came out shaky; it was too audible in the tense atmosphere between the two of us. He must have definitely heard and felt my reaction, judging by his soft snicker, expression full of amusement and desire. Then his eyes bore into me, into my very soul, and threatened to consume me.

“I’d let you do that and a whole lot more, princess,” it was a whisper, but that didn’t take away from the intensity of the statement and the promise in his words. It poured over me like hot honey, my back immediately straightening and thighs pushing together on instinct, trying to contain the gush of sensations hitting my lower tummy and my heat. Very embarrassingly, I could already feel my panties rapidly getting wetter and wetter; the effect of the man was immense and he knew it very well, judging by the smug aura.

With a satisfied grin his hand moved from my arm down to my thigh, squeezing the flesh right under the hem of my mini skirt. The twitch that tore through me was completely involuntary and once again I found myself fighting for every shaky breath taken.

A quiet melodic laugh hit my ears and then the ginger menace leaned even closer to whisper straight into my ear. “Cute,” was all he muttered before he pulled all the way away from me, raising his hand to catch the attention of the barman, “but first, let me treat you to a drink, kitten.”

That suddenly snapped me back into reality and my brain jumped back online. As if waking up from a terribly amazingly sweet dream, I remembered the reason why I came over in the first place – the bet. The bet I thought I would absolutely fail at that I was about to complete now.

A laugh bubbled out of my throat, sweet and mischievous, and all the confidence I pretended to feel before rushed through my body straight into my head. With a giggle I leaned in and said: “A drink you say, huh?”

My smug smirk must have been awfully annoying, but the man only looked at me with curious eyes. He sensed the change in my behaviour immediately and it threw him for a loop – his amazingly brave little lamb was now laughing at him like the she was the wolf? His head tilted to the side as he tried to figure me out, but I only made sure he was watching me as I gestured thumbs up back to my friends.

The whole table erupted into cheers, Yeri was wildly gesturing something to me and it took a moment to realise she was trying to say I won. Her finger was pointing at her phone that had the stopwatch app open and she was laughing joyfully and sending me thumbs up. I grinned at her back, elated that I was able to not only overcome the initial fear but also best all the others.

Turning back to the ginger who was watching the whole interaction with curious surprised eyes, suddenly unsure and a little less dominant. I giggled at him, happily plucked the prepared colourful drink from his waiting hand and stood up, not before bowing to him slightly.

“Thank you very much, I appreciate your help,” I teased him with a wide smile, going as far as to lean heavily into his side until my lips were almost pressed to his ear as he did to me earlier and then whispered my killer shot: “It was pleasure doing business with you.”

With that I walked away, hips swaying side to side and confidence like I’d never felt coursing through my veins. The atmosphere at the table was unrivalled, and I had to admit it was probably the most fun I’d ever had on a night out so far, and I probably indulged in the free drinks far more than I should have.

But whenever I’d start feeling a little bad for my behaviour, I’d shyly look towards the bar, hoping I wouldn’t see the man too upset. He wasn’t. Anytime our eyes met, the wild primal hunger reflected in his would threaten swallow me whole, sending little shocks of pleasure and heat through my whole body.

That night I spent dancing feeling those eyes bore into me, eating up my every movement and salivating over me so openly I felt the fire of his lust all across the club. He never disappointed, never failed to deliver, and I lived for it.

And if I put on a little more show than I usually did while swaying my hips and dancing to slow sensual beats, that was only my business.

“I can’t believe you managed to talk me into coming here again,” I muttered grumpily to Yeri, who was happily vibrating next to me, her wide grin almost infecting me with the joy as well, but I held steadfast and kept on a frown just because. To prove a point, actually.

The girls (the same group as last time) were excitedly chattering in the line right behind us as we stood in the blistering heat of the setting sun on the street, waiting to be let inside a club. Why yes, it was the same club as last time.

The fateful Saturday night happened already full two weeks ago, and since then I haven’t stopped listening about it.

As my friends watched my interaction with the handsome stranger (the next morning, incredibly sore and hungover, I shamefully realised I didn’t even know his name), it suddenly was less about the bet for them and more about rooting for me to go and actually fuck him. I was so embarrassed about their loud drunken outbursts, trying to push me back into his direction and very unsubtly begging me to go and “get some premium dick”, but I stood my ground and never strayed from the dancefloor.

When we were leaving at 4 am – tired, already in the awful stages of slowly sobering up and with melting makeup and blistering feet, I was hounded the whole time about going to get his number at least (which I didn’t). I told them some things just end this way and I was okay with it (I wasn’t). In reality I was just a big fat coward.

The following two weeks were hell on earth – nobody, and I mean nobody, ever stopped talking about the ginger guy and how he had me folding with two or three lines and some charming smirks. The amount of scolding I got daily for not taking him up on his offer or at least giving him some contact info was insane, and I was slowly losing my patience with it.

That’s why when this Saturday the suggestion to go to the club again was thrown into the group chat, I knew it was more about them hoping I’d bump into him again than actually liking the club itself. I fought, valiantly, but I was outvoted. Someone even tried vetoing my disagreement.

So that’s how I found myself here, about to walk inside again in a black pleated mini-skirt, black crop with a heart cutout over my cleavage and cute little strapped heels (outfit courtesy of Yeri who wouldn’t let me walk out of my room until she approved that I was ‘extremely fuckable’) and some courageous makeup that I was slightly unsure about but everyone kept saying it was hot.

I was nervously shuffling, leaning into Yeri’s side as she started comforting me and calming me down.

“Don’t you think it’s even more awkward, seeing him again after I fucked him over like that?” I mumbled into her shoulder, careful about not smudging my red lipstick all over her pretty pink dress. Her arm coiled around me tighter and she quickly shook her head, her curled hair hitting me int the face with every move.

“Absolutely not, you think I didn’t see the way he was eye-fucking you the whole rest of the night? That was foreplay, baby. Now it’s time for the main course,” she recited confidently, and finally pushed us towards the stairs down now that the whole group was inside. I didn’t fully agree with her, to me it was obvious the connection kinda fizzled out by the end of the night, but I didn’t want to burst her bubble.

Tonight I’d go along with them, comfort them through the disappointment of him not being here (because what are the chances, honestly), and if he does show up I’d give him the awkward wave and move on and then they can cry about how anti-climactic this whole thing was. They’ll be sad for about ten minutes and then buy shots and promptly forget about any guys.

That was my plan for the night.

And for a while, everything went according to it. Coming down into the main hall of the club, all eyes (even mine, but I’d never admit it out loud) eagerly turned to the bar which the man was glued to the entire time, only to not see any sign of the ginger bombshell. My heart quivered in disappointment only a tiny bit, but I didn’t let them see, only gave them a look that screamed ‘I told you so’ and moved on.

During the first few rounds I scolded myself for actually letting myself get swayed by their words and hoping for his presence against my better judgement, and quickly convinced my heart that it was for the better he didn’t show up.

For a few hours we danced and drank, and it almost seemed that everyone started forgetting the reason why they even pushed to come here, the whole experience slowly turning into a normal night out, when suddenly Yeri that was dancing next to me loudly gasped into my ear.

It alerted me to her, but before I could even turn to her, she started wildly slapping my shoulder until it hurt.

“Ow, ow! Stop!” I slapped her hand away, considerably gentler than she did to me, and scowled at her slightly irritated with the commotion.

“He’s actually here!” she screamed that in my face, but with the loud music pumping all around us she might as well been whispering. The statement took the wind out of the sails of my slight annoyance and I floundered, stuttering and staring at her wide-eyed.

When Yeri realised I was too shocked to look myself, she grabbed my shoulders and forcefully turned me in the direction of the bar. I almost wanted to close my eyes, not even wanting to believe he actually did come to the club two weeks later and now I was facing the real chance of a terrible let-down, but at the same time I yearned to catch another glimpse of the ginger demon that swung my world upside down in literal seconds.

Tonight he was wearing a plain black hoodie and wider jeans with a single cut on both of his knees, showing off some pale skin that glistened under the flashing lights. He sat in the same spot, which meant currently his back was turned to us and he was none-the-wiser to our presence. He was locked into a long conversation with one of the guys manning the bar. They seemed pretty friendly, which spoke of the fact that he was most probably a frequent visitor.

I felt my palms getting clammy as I suddenly sweated for a very different reason than before. Yeri was excitedly shouting and gesturing at the rest of the group, and I saw some of their very crude and very dirty gestures back, before I turned back to the bar blushing and embarrassed.

Before I knew it, Yeri was fighting our way through the crowd towards the bar and I twisted a little in her hold, panicking and ashamed.

“Yeri, wait! God, please wait!” I pleaded with her, and something in my voice must have been truly desperate because she actually listened to me. With troubled eyes she gave me a once over, clocked in the shaky eyes and unsure knees, and then changed the direction towards the hall with toilets.

It was relatively calmer there, the bass still booming through the walls and the echo of the song playing reaching our ears, but we could actually speak in a semblance of privacy where usually no one lingered for too long.

“What’s wrong?” my best friend asked, and to her credit, she was truly worried, but I couldn’t believe she didn’t understand. I threw my hands out and looked at her incredulously.

“What do you mean ‘what’s wrong’?” I asked her, exasperated, “What don’t you understand about the fact that I maybe don’t want to talk to him again?!” My voice raised a little, and I did feel bad about it, but the whole situation put me too much on edge to apologise immediately.

Yeri didn’t seem to be too offended, instead she just watched me with her steady all-knowing eyes, and it felt like they saw all the way inside my insecure little soul. My face crumbled under the power of that, and I knew she’d have me spilling everything to her anyway by the end of this conversation.

“Y/N, you literally have nothing to worry about,” her guess was correct, just as I feared, and I avoided her softened loving gaze, “You’re absolutely gorgeous, and I know you know that, and I know you think you’re too awkward… But you had that man literally drooling all over himself. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you until the moment you walked out of that bar. He wants you, a lot.”

“I know that we kind of stared at each other, but I don’t know…” I told her and I hated how weak and vulnerable my voice turned as I spilled out my insecurities to her, “the novelty kind of wore off, didn’t it? Now I’m just an awkward girl stuttering under the gaze of the hottest guy I’ve ever fucking seen. I could barely get a word out when he looked at me.” That had my friend smirking up a storm and I narrowed my eyes at her, already knowing she was about to annoy the shit out of me.

“Yeah, and as someone who watched your entire interaction, he fucking loved it,” she said firmly, a teasing lilt to her words, “Please, trust me. Do you trust me?” Of course I fucking trusted her, so I petulantly nodded, even though I was grumbling to myself that it had nothing to do with that.

“Do you trust that I have a set of functioning eyes?” she teased some more, grinning at me mischievously as she poked me in my ribs with her fingers. Even as I tried to stay upset, the laugh was punched out of me completely involuntarily and I found myself slowly relaxing. When I nodded, her grin turned all happy and toothy.

“Then trust me when I say that the moment you walk up to him, he’ll be over the fucking moon,” her voice was soft and loving, and it almost made me a little mushy, “and trust me when I say that tonight he’ll definitely not let you walk away from him.” She winked as she said that and I laughed at her, pushing her a little teasingly.

I did feel lighter and less stressed. I felt like I could actually go and talk to him again, and I smiled at my best friend, knowing she just wanted the best for me and was always on my side.

“And if he turns out to be a dick, then you’ll come back and I’ll buy us a drink and we’ll curse him out,” she added cheekily, already stepping away from me to head back onto the dancefloor. That made me laugh, because… as if I didn’t say that before.

Rejuvenated and slightly more confident, I turned from Yeri and headed in the opposite direction she went in – straight to the bar. The guy was still sitting there, still turned away from me, but now he seemed to be back to not really engaging with anyone, not even the friendly smiling barman that was currently serving drinks to someone while laughing with his coworker… until he wasn’t.

In an inopportune moment his head turned just right for me to graze the corner of his eye and then he was full on swinging around to do a double take, startling the poor guy he worked with. Suddenly there were two sets of eyes trained on me and I froze, blushing under their gazes as the recognition set in and teasing smirks played on both of their faces.

The dark-haired one then went to wave his hand, but immediately I realised it wasn’t to greet me but to alert the ginger who was kind of just staring off into nowhere. To keep the element of surprise, I lunged into movement, basically jumping the last few steps and crashing into the bar in a terrible déjà vu, trying to look elegant and sexy even as I winced lightly at the impact.

My back was now turned to the two little shits behind the bar, and I could only imagine the expression on their faces, but I was too preoccupied with the wide-eyed stare from the man of the hour himself.

This time he shook off the surprise way quicker, relaxing almost immediately as he realised who I was, a truly smug smirk splitting his face. His gaze was unabashedly travelling all over me, taking in every detail, and I was suddenly reminded of how intense it was to be in the centre of his attention.

“Well, well, look who it is,” he drawled out, but it was more amused than anything and I slowly started letting go of the fear that he was incredibly mad at me for our last meeting, “what, looking for another free drink?”

I flushed with embarrassment, avoiding his eyes as much as possible, which wasn’t that much of a great idea when that brought me to staring at his hands. His cursed, beautiful hands that never strayed too far from my dreams even as I tried to forget about the man.

They started flexing, stretching across the expanse of the thick glass and showcasing their strength, and I realised I was caught. Not giving him the satisfaction of seeing my plight, I turned my gaze somewhere slightly above his shoulder, fixating on a pillar or something that stood directly behind.

“Sorry about that, it was a stupid game,” I stuttered out, trying to ignore his insistent attempts to move his head to where my eyes were trained at, “It was quite rude of me.” He chuckled and I could basically feel the entertainment seeping off of him in waves.

“Don’t worry about it princess,” the velvety purr was back and the ginger clearly decided that if I wasn’t going to look at him, he’ll just try every dirty trick in the book. He leaned into me, lips easily finding the shell of my ear as his hand weightily clasped over the exposed skin of my thigh.

“There’s a very easy way for you to make it up to me,” he whispered languidly, caressing over me with his sweet words, “this time when I buy you a drink, don’t run off, as easy as that.” I was so embarrassed by my previous actions I found it hard to actually answer, so I just cleared my throat and hummed low in my throat in agreement.

He seemed satisfied with that, hand moving from my leg to possessively squeeze at my waist as if he was insuring I really wouldn’t leave as soon as I got my drink, and I did have to laugh at that. His narrowed eyes hit me as soon as he heard my giggles, the teasing reprimand in them spoke volumes, but he stayed silent, hand waving for the barman while his eyes never left mine.

“What’s up,” came the low baritone of the guy as he came closer to us. I could clearly hear the amusement in his voice, but the informal address also didn’t escape me, and I started wondering who this guy actually was. This time I would at least leave the bar knowing his name, if nothing else.

Tuning out while he was ordering, I was just about to ask for his name, when the teasing voice of the younger guy registered back into my brain.

“And would that be on the bar, Yoongi-hyung?” it was some kind of a joke, judging by (apparently) Yoongi’s scoff even as he clearly wasn’t mad or annoyed, and he shot back with: “Stop asking stupid questions, Tae.” It was all jokes and games, the two men laughing and smiling at each other, when I froze in his hold.

Wait a minute. On the bar. Yoongi. Hyung. A memory rushed to the forefront of my mind – Hana excitedly rattling off about a club she wanted to go to, that she heard about because apparently the word on the streets was the owners were super hot. Saturday, two weeks ago, as she dragged us off into this club. A club owned by some guy called Min Yoongi and his friend Jung Hoseok.

The very same guy that was currently watching me go through this whole rollercoaster of realisations with an amused grin on his face, hand still securely curled around my waist and pushing me into the bar.

Jesus fucking christ.

I wasn’t actually sure whether I paled or blushed, but something crazy was happening with my face as I opened and closed my mouth like a beached fish fighting for its life, finger slowly lifting and wordlessly pointing towards the ginger man.

Yoongi finally couldn’t hold it back anymore and burst out laughing, the pure joy on his face making him look even more impossibly handsome with his cute smile and eyes closed in glee, but then he was suddenly fixing me with another one of his cocksure smirks and leaning closer.

“Oh kitten,” he purred, and his excitement was suddenly palpable between us, his whole body trying to curl around me eagerly, “don’t tell me you didn’t even know whose hands you wanted to choke you so bad?” My breath got stuck in my throat fighting to stutter out, and then I was just all pliable and melting right in his arms. That’s all it took, and it was absolutely pathetic on my part, but I couldn’t really bring myself to feel ashamed about it, especially not when Yoongi was pulling me closer, off the bar stool and nearly wedging me between himself and the wooden bar.

“Come on, princess, where’s my cocky little tease telling me the naughtiest things and then walking away with a huge fucking grin on her face?” the man teased me, so close that his hot breath was hitting the crook of my neck as I shivered and trembled under him, “You’re being such a good girl right now, I’m beginning to think this might be another one of your ploys.”

At his words, a surge of confidence hit me, reinforced by the clear lust that was dripping off of his voice, off of his aura. Suddenly I was back to the night two weeks ago, preening under his starving eyes, each moment between us packed with so much unreleased sexual tension it might have set the whole club on fire.

While Yoongi tentatively nosed under my ear, testing the waters afraid he’d push me away by being too much too fast, I sneaked my arm up his back aiming to give him exactly what he wanted.

Snaking my hand into his hair, I heard his little sigh, body pulling into me a little further as he took it as an encouragement to continue. Just as his lips lightly kissed at my neck, the slightest sweetest hint of tongue tasting the salty sweat, I grabbed a handful of the ginger locks and pulled, dragging his face away from me.

The moment our eyes met, it was like an electric current went off between us, his pupils dilated and darkened, consumed with desire, and mine couldn’t have looked much different. There was slight annoyance at my action written on his pretty face, but the grin was as amused as ever, pleased, even, that I dared to go against him.

My tongue slipped through my smirking lips very briefly, just teasing the man with little extra disobedience, and it worked to pull his attention, gaze trained on my blood red lips.

“There she is,” he whispered that almost reverently, the unfiltered joy running through him on a shiver, and I saw the exact moment he lost the battle to his instincts and surged to claim my mouth in a searing kiss.

Only… he never got there. Yoongi abruptly stopped midway, eyes jumping somewhere behind my shoulder, and I almost whined out loud, so desperate for his attention after I had it for a few brief moments.

But then his grin turned nasty, just downright filthy, and a shiver of arousal plundered through me. Before I knew what was happening, brain already muddled by this guy almost beyond recognition, he was spinning me in his hold. My back hit his chest, his hand splaying over my stomach in the process, and I was greeted with a delicious sight.

There was a man sitting in the chair that I was previously occupying before Yoongi pulled me off to himself, he was leaning his head on his hand that was propped up on the bar, watching us with an amused smirk and hungry eyes. I flushed under his gaze, and also from realising that he’d been watching us, but with the slightest curl of shame in my stomach I found that I really didn’t mind at all.

This guy was insanely attractive as well, he had dark hair slicked back and swept off of his forehead and an expanse of skin on show. He was also dressed in all black, but a very different vibe – dress pants that hugged his waist and hips nicely, accentuating his slim form, a silken blouse that was open all the way to his fucking belly button, but somehow it still looked extremely stylish and tasteful, covering just enough while giving you a taste of exquisite miles of honey-toned skin. He topped it off with a black suit jacket that fell past his hips and hung off of him nicely. For some reason he was also wearing his sunglasses, even here inside the club.

Looking at him made me feel like a horny nun in a sex shop. I swear to god I started sweating under his obviously interested eyes that peered over the rim of those black glasses and lingered on Yoongi’s possessive hold around my waist.

His hand swiftly tugged the sunglasses off and when he looked at my face again, there was a bright friendly smile on his, but something sharper and darker lurked beneath it, sending shivers down my spine in anticipation.

“Having a fun night, hyung?” he asked, voice happy and teasing, a laugh spilling out of him effortlessly like it was natural for him to do that with every word. Behind me there was a slight rumble as well, and I could only guess what kind of expression graced the ginger man’s face, but something hungry reflected in the newcomer at seeing it.

“Hoseok-ah,” Yoongi said in greeting and I jerked, recognising that name immediately. Amusement pulsed in the air, making me feel like I suddenly got caught between two starving wolves, while I just stood there wide-eyed and blushing. “You wouldn’t believe who returned to me tonight,” the older man continued, and I could hear the shit-eating grin in his intonation.

The hand that wasn’t currently lightly caressing the exposed sliver of skin between my crop and my skirt lifted from its place on the bar and laid gently on my neck, hold just strong enough to feel its weight there and fix me in place, but not to actually grasp. My heart stammered a few times in my chest, a needy noise getting stuck in my throat and tampering off into a little whiny exhale. My face was burning, but the interest of the two men seemed to skyrocket at the sound.

“Oh!” the exclamation out of Hoseok’s mouth was full of unbridled thrill and he leaned closer as well, recognising the gesture as something to do specifically with me in a way that sent shame and excitement through me, “Look who it is, our very own Cinderella!” Now when his gaze swept over me, there was a slight glaze over it, like he was putting the body to the tale he must have heard from Yoongi himself.

“So this is she,” the dark-haired man said finally when his eyes feasted enough, sparkles reflecting in them as he stared me down before he offered me his hand. Kind of dumbfounded I reached for it on instinct, making me even more aware of Yoongi’s hands coiled all around my body.

Hoseok quickly grabbed it as soon as it got within his reach, but instead of a handshake he pulled my hand to his lips and tenderly kissed the top, eyes sending me cheeky glances as I blushed under the ministration.

“Nice to meet you, Cinderella, my name is Hoseok,” he stated sensually, the fire that was steadily burning right under his surface momentarily showing, and then he pulled back all sunshiney and smiley again, like he wasn’t staring me down like a predator just a second ago.

“Oh, that’s right,” Yoongi suddenly mumbled, and I shamefully realised I was so pulled into Hoseok’s aura I forgot about the presence glued to my back, “What is your name, princess?” The dark-haired man in front of me suddenly gasped loudly, jokingly slapping his friend’s shoulder in reprimand.

“Hyung, you haven’t asked her till now?” he whined loudly, draping himself over the counter a little bit and making himself comfortable leaning his head on his hand again, “How incredibly rude of you. You were about to stick your tongue down her throat without even introducing yourself.” I flushed at the reminder of what got interrupted by Hoseok’s arrival, quickly averting my eyes and staring at the floor shyly.

There were few chuckles all around, and then the hands released me. I stumbled a little, not expecting to lose my tether and allowing my legs to grow weak knowing I was being held up, but thankfully Hoseok seemed to have quite quick reflexes, and his hand shot out to grab my hip, righting me on my feet. I mumbled my thanks and leaned on the bar casually like I was just waiting for my drink, trying to ignore the mounting sexual tension between the three of us.

Quickly clearing my throat, I hoped to dispel the slight awkwardness that suddenly overtook me, drumming my fingers on the bar. Suddenly realising that the drink Yoongi ordered for me stood completely forgotten and melting there, I reached for it and started downing it while I felt their amused but still ravenous eyes on my figure.

“I know, Hobi-ya, I’ve been such a bad host,” Yoongi purred out, fingers playing with the glass with what I assumed was whiskey. Since every time my gaze got stuck on his perfect hands his ego seemed to grow even more (which I thought to be impossible, but Yoongi proved to be an impossible man, so it checked out), I tried to avoid the sight, but my eyes still got dragged down every once in a while, lured in by the massive rings flashing under the lights and the pretty veins flexing with every movement.

There was some rapport between them, shooting one clever dirty remark after another, but I sort of tuned them out for a moment, getting lost in the world of possibilities that opened before me quite abruptly. I try to win a bet and end up getting chatted up by not one, but two owners of the very club. I almost wanted to run off just to whisper this to Yeri and giggle about it with Hana, some slight snickers escaping my mouth at the image of her wide-open mouth at finding out who these guys were.

“What are you laughing at, Cinderella?” a voice right next to my ear tears me out of my musings, and I immediately shuddered, feeling the hot puff of air of his breath hitting the tender skin of my neck. Hoseok was grinning at me wickedly when I turned to him, so close I could count all of his perfect pretty lashes.

Belatedly I realised I never actually introduced myself, the conversation getting derailed immediately and I got so flustered I forgot he even asked, so I cleared my throat and said: “My name’s Y/N.” It came out a little scratchy still, emphasizing how deliciously nervous they made me, which in turn served to excite them even more – I could see it in their dark expectant eyes.

Then I smirked, regaining a little bit of sense now that I wasn’t helplessly caught in Yoongi’s sweet net. “And that’s none of your business,” I added, barely supressing the desire to stick out my tongue at him. I’d keep that one in the arsenal, I was sure I’d get many a chance to be bratty at him until the morning.

Hoseok hummed, a spark running through him at the tiniest bit of attitude, but then he smirked back.

“I see what you mean, hyung, you do have to push her a little to get to that fire,” the dark-haired man said almost too conversationally, like they were discussing their favourite drinks. His head tilted as he regarded me and I felt almost undressed under the weight of that stare. Looking at him, he was clearly already thinking of how he’d like to push me to get the reactions he wanted, so I chose to ignore him even as heat threatened to overtake my face.

Instead I narrowed my eyes at Yoongi, who was trying to look as innocent as possible but he couldn’t hide the devilish spark about him, his smile a little too sharp to get away with anything.

“What exactly have you been telling him?” my voice tilted in faux anger, but there was a grin tugging at my lips even as I was attempting to fix him with my stare. Needless to say, he wasn’t intimidated in the slightest.

Leaning forward, until our noses were almost brushing and our breaths mingled, and I felt my knees getting a little weak again, he grinned. “Nothing but the truth.” We were locked in what I’d call an eye-fucking staring contest, but neither of us wanted to back down. As I started to feel a little more comfortable in their presence, I quickly found my spine again, and they clearly liked when I sassed them a little. So I let go and slipped into my usual stance.

“Well, I originally came here to talk shop, but this is much more interesting,” came Hoseok’s voice from our right, and we both looked over at the same time. He was watching us with an obvious smile, but not the ones like before, no. This one made me shiver (as if they haven’t been doing that for the entire night).

I quickly spun around, leaning on the bar with my back instead of my front, and looked seemingly carelessly into the crowd, partly trying to annoy them a little and partly actually searching for Yeri to make sure she knew I was okay.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, there’s clearly nothing happening,” I sing-songed slyly, making sure I put a little distance between all of us. Yoongi, who was clearly the one more experienced with me bolting, was shifting around on his stool, and for the first time that evening I realised how much they both towered over me even with my heels, even when they both sat and I was standing. It was exhilarating, like getting slowly sweetly hunted.

I made eye contact with my best friend exactly the second two hands from two different directions wrapped around me and fixed me to place, Hoseok’s elegant hand squeezing at my waist while Yoongi’s bejewelled one made itself home in the crook of my neck, as close to grabbing me by the throat as he could get away with in the middle of a crowded club.

I stuttered out a gasp, my thoughts screeching to a halt and Yoongi took the chance to dip down to my ear and whisper: “You’re not running away from us that easily, pretty girl.” I couldn’t help the little smirk, thinking back to Yeri’s words promising me that if I went to speak to him, he wouldn’t let me go again. Oh how right she was, and she’d be super annoying about it later, but right now I was so glad she convinced me to go I’d accept all the teasing later.

Yeri was watching the interaction with sharp eyes, face a little worried at the sudden appearance of a second man. She raised her hand in the universal ‘ok’ gesture, a question written into her features. I quickly nodded, not wanting to leave her hanging, and then turned to Yoongi and staring right into his eyes.

“If I knew you were this desperate for me, I’d have given you a few more crumbs last time,” I teased him shamelessly, too satisfied with myself for Yoongi’s liking. He growled lightly, the rumble rising through his chest and throat and vibrating on my shoulder. The ginger ducked his head back into my neck and then there was a quick warning nip to the soft skin, which had me gasping breathlessly, thrumming in their arms.

Hoseok was quietly laughing to my right, free hand amusing itself by playing with my dark curled hair while he amusedly watched his hyung getting provoked like that.

With blown out pupils and wild heart jumping around in my chest I turned again to find Yeri’s eyes once more. She was glancing our way occasionally, and by now the other girls noticed as well, all hooting and hollering and gesturing at me happily. I grinned back, and then pulled out my phone from my little bag and tapped it so everyone saw. It was our gesture to have them check their messages.

With that I slowly pulled myself from their hands, and as possessively as they both clutched at me, once I actually showed the intent to leave, they both let go easily, leaning back in their chairs. I could see the moment of nervousness in Yoongi’s eyes, probably afraid he’d taken it too far with the bite, but I smirked at both of them, trying to ease them a little.

“Gentlemen, I need to use the restroom,” I announced heartily, thrusting my bag into Hoseok’s hands, “I trust this will be safe with you.” With a little wink, clutching my phone in hand, I turned on my heel and happily bounced through the throngs of people towards the quiet hallway.

Once there, I quickly pulled up the group chat, not being able to keep this all to myself anymore.

Petty bitch: you won’t fucking believe me what I found out

The slew of messages was immediate, some begging for the tea and some berating me for texting them when I had two very hot men to make out with.

Pink nightmare: istfg if you don’t tell me now

Petty bitch: calm down lol, i’m not gonna leave you hanging

Petty bitch: you know who these guys are?

Petty bitch: min yoongi and jung hoseok

Dressed to distress: ARE YOU FUCKING FOR REAL RIGHT NOW??????

Dressed to distress: Y/N YOU BETTER NOT BE PULLING YM BALLS RIHGT NOW

Dressed to distress: istfg you better go there and fuck them until they can’t walk or i’ll never speak to you again

Pink nightmare: i think Hana almost passed out when she read that

Dressed to distress: shut up it’s big news

Dressed to distress: it’s THE min yoongi and jung hoseok

Dressed to distress: FUCK THEM. N O W.

I was laughing at the endless barrage of messages, Hana and Yeri taking over the group chat with their combined freaking out and subtle threats to end our friendship if I leave again. The smile on my face was fixed permanent at that point, and the warmth spread through me quickly knowing I had such support out there, even though it was about getting fucked senseless.

Petty bitch: aye aye captain, will do sir

Dressed to distress: you better

Petty bitch: you were right tho yeri, about what you said before

Pink nightmare: i know ;)

With one last smile at the screen, I locked the device again and made my way back to the bar, where the two man conversed leisurely. A third chair was pulled between them, waiting and empty, and Hoseok was still securely clutching onto the little red handbag. I supposed that was the only reason they were being so chill, though I wouldn’t understand anyone that would be able to walk away from them for the second time.

Confidently walking over, I went straight for the empty stool and sat down without glancing at either of the men, instead gesturing at the smiley barman, Tae if I remembered correctly. He waved at me and without saying anything he started preparing my drink.

Well, there was a certain advantage to being the girl that his bosses were about to fuck.

Said men didn’t waste a second and immediately engulfed me in their warmth, flanking both my sides, hands wandering around the small of my back or the exposed skin of my thighs (that one was definitely Yoongi, judging by the cooling feeling of heavy jewellery dragging across the heated skin that made me shiver more than I was prepared to admit).

A small talk started up between us, talking about mostly nothing or inconsequential things, about what we did that day or whether I also got mad at the latest change in bus schedule (Hoseok got weirdly passionate about that, considering he most definitely either drove a high-end car or even had a chauffeur).

But it was increasingly more difficult to pay attention to a single thing that was said when their hands slowly but surely strayed more and got bolder and bolder, with Hoseok’s sliding up, up, under my little top, until his thumb was sliding across the line of my bra, while Yoongi had managed to slowly inch his way almost all the way under my skirt. He was so close to accidentally brushing against the edge of my panties, and it was driving me insane.

I was endlessly squirming in my seat, legs constantly fighting to either fall further open or squeeze under the rush of sensations, either giving the smug man more opportunities to caress my inner thigh or just trapping his hand there.

And as if sensing what Yoongi was doing, and how he kept me on edge, Hoseok begun inching his head closer, leaning in until I felt every word he said on the skin of my naked shoulder, until his soft lips were brushing against me with every laugh and murmur, sometimes even giving up the pretence of polite conversation and just openly kissing his way around my crop when he wasn’t talking.

It took me entirely too long to realise they were just winding me up on purpose, finding new stupid stuff to bring up just to prolong the sweet torture.

I snapped sometimes in the middle of a heated debate over soap dispensers in public bathrooms, just as Yoongi was detailing his thought process over choosing the ones they had in their restrooms.

“Are you planning to finger me right here on the bar?” I jumped into his spiel, the frustration bleeding into my voice, “Or are we going to talk about soap until morning?” Yoongi immediately shut up, amused grin playing on his lips and his hand flexing on my thigh at the mention of fingering. Hoseok also froze where he was in the middle of gently mouthing at the back of my neck, and I felt his lips pull into a smirk.

Tae that was just passing by looked horrified though and started protesting basically as soon as I was done with my little outburst.

Before I knew what was happening, both men were on their feet and pulling me along, each one hand in their grasp. There was a quick understanding between them, and they both started off in the same direction.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Hoseok purred, overcome by the excitement, “No matter how hot fingering you at the bar would be, let’s reserve that for when the club’s closed.” The promise of future endeavours worked like a charm on me, and I quickly melted into their embrace, speeding up to keep up with their rushed steps.

Turns out, they were going towards a dark door, coloured just well enough to blend into the walls. Yoongi impatiently started unlocking it, almost barging into it once the key finally turned. It opened to a narrow little barren hallway that ended in stairs going up.

The three of us couldn’t fit there side by side, so I ended up with Hoseok’s arm around my shoulders with Yoongi going ahead, taking the stairs by two. Up there was a little space and a singular door, which finally led into what must have been their office space.

It was a nice room, a little dark, there was only a single small window and it was currently night outside, but it was decorated nicely, giving it a modern yet cozy feel. There was a dark wood desk in one corner, with a massive chair behind it, and a nice little conference table with a comfortable sofa in the other.

Hoseok led us straight towards there, but just as I wanted to move to sit on the nice dark blue furnishing, I was pulled down by the man and we both tumbled onto the soft carpet instead. He cleverly manoeuvred me so that once down, I ended up almost in his lap, and his arm coiled around my waist quickly to keep me pressed up against him.

I’d have laughed at his cheekiness, I would have, but then his face was buried in my neck and finally kissing in earnest, and all that came out of me was a pleased sigh. There was clinking coming from somewhere behind us, but I ignored it in favour of running my hand up Hoseok’s back until it was tangled into his styled hair. He released a few pleasured chuffs and then he was pulling back.

I whined, I couldn’t help myself, and I wasn’t even particularly ashamed of it once I saw his teasing smile. The dark-haired man amused himself by pressing in closer, our lips only a breath away, and then jerking from me when I tried to close the distance, laughing in earnest at my frustration.

His hands kneaded my hips, similarly pulling me close enough but then keeping me in place when I tried to shuffle closer, until I had enough. I was so turned on, not only from the teasing from before, worked up from their gentle touches on the bar, but also from being so close to finally having what I wanted only to be entertainment for him. So fine, if he wanted to play, let’s play.

Using the hand in his hair, I tugged at it a little harsher than before, enough to jerk Hoseok’s head back as he wasn’t expecting it. A little hiss of pain escaped his lips, but even as I quickly descended on him I saw the swirl of arousal in his eyes. Using the moment of surprise, I finally crashed our lips together and barrelled into him, not giving him a chance to stop me when I finally climbed atop his lap properly and made myself home there.

He took it all in stride, giving me what I wanted, happily so if his overjoyed little noises were anything to go by. I didn’t give him a chance to tease more by controlling the pace of the kiss, instead I kissed him filthily from the beginning, going in hard.

Hoseok matched my pace easily, accepting all of my desire and doubling it with his own, wasting no time in licking into my mouth, pushing his tongue in and claiming me thoroughly. We battled for dominance briefly, our tongues messily pushing against each other, the kiss descending into heated wet chaos, but it was mind-meltingly good and I couldn’t stop the outpouring of moans that the man eagerly swallowed and answered with his own.

When we finally separated for air, I suddenly became aware of the fact that I’ve been rocking against him as his hands firmly gripped at my waist, supporting the flow of my movements.

We breathed heavily into each other, my brain already muddled and its only goal turning to getting railed into oblivion. Hoseok’s gaze was trained somewhere off to my left and I turned, being greeted by the sight of Yoongi leisurely sprawled over the sofa, whiskey glass hanging from his hand.

His eyes were beyond starving, fixed on us in a manner that excited me as much as it unnerved me, but then Hoseok was chuckling into my ear and whispering “hyung must like the show” and my head was spinning with the force of lust that surged through me.

This time when I lunged for another kiss, the man was already expecting me, accepting me. Hoseok was full of eager noises, sighs and moans and groans, all escaping into my hungry mouth and sounding through the room alongside the wet smacking of our lips. And I wasn’t far behind, the quiet moans spilling out freely as my hips jerked over the man, this time very much with purpose.

There was a bulge increasingly hardening right beneath my soaked centre, and every time I rubbed against it there was a hitch in both of our staggered breathing. My skirt has long since ridden all the way up, pretty much exposing my panties to Yoongi’s eager eyes as he watched me hump his friend.

Our mouths fell apart for breath, but Hoseok immediately trailed wet scorching kisses down my jaw and neck, licking into the skin there. At first I didn’t even realise when the scales of power started tipping the other way, not until I was suddenly pulled up and slammed down on the little table, splayed on my back and with a very horny man attached to me and pushing me into the sturdy wood.

My head was spinning and I could barely see through the haze, the fog filling my mind with every swipe of Hoseok’s talented tongue, and when I bumped into something I didn’t even care that much. Not until the dark-haired man bit down hard at the junction of my neck and I threw my head back with a debauched scream, body seizing and arms flying back in an attempt to grasp onto something.

Soft jean material was suddenly between my fingers, and I started slowly noting that there was a bony leg underneath it.

Hoseok’s hips relentlessly pushed into mine, jerking into me and letting me feel every inch of his now erect cock, still confined to his silken pants.

“Going to ruin your expensive slacks, pretty boy,” I gasped out with a laugh and the man scoffed into the skin in the crook of my neck. His hips slowed down to a drawled-out grind, torturing me with delicious drag of the prominent bulge through the thin material of my panties.

I felt his big strong hand splayed out on the meat of my thigh, holding my leg curled around his hips and pinning me into place.

“I’m not a teenager anymore, angel, I can hold my own,” he purred between licks and kisses, enjoying the slowed down pleasure as it made me squirm in impatience, since the turn in pace was quite sudden.

“Oh yeah? You’re already a big boy?” I teased right back, little gasps and moans escaping me with every sharp nip to my neck. I was already breathless, writhing around on the table under a man who seemed to be gradually more and more cocksure as the seconds ticked by.

Hearing my words, he ground his hips into me with surprising force, shocking a moan out of me. “Can’t you feel for yourself?” he giggled into my ear, upping the tempo and force behind his thrusts until I was thrown around and had no idea where was up and down.

Brain overrun with pleasure, any kind of smart retort died in my throat under the sudden onslaught of pleasure coursing through me, only desperately holding onto Hoseok’s shoulders while he ravaged me. The little table pitifully squeaked under us, but it seemed it would hold even with how wild he was getting.

“Oh? No more witty remarks?” he now fully teased, enjoying this little game we had going, “Do you only behave when you’re fucked into oblivion?”

Before I could respond, Hoseok straightened out, hands migrating to hold down my hips as he jerked into me and laughed down at me. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what sight I made – flushed, with messy hair and red lipstick smeared around my lips. His eyes drank me up hungrily, mouth open and tongue licking his lips like I was the most delicious dessert. There was a tinge of red on them from mine too, and with his blown out eyes it painted such an erotic picture I felt myself clench around nothing.

A deep dark chuckle from behind me made me remember the fact that there actually was another person here with us, but I didn’t turn to look at him. Instead I channelled all my energy into smirking towards Hoseok.

He himself was far from collected, a tiny line of sweat breaking out at his hairline and his cheeks were a healthy red colour, eyes hazy and dark. Sensing my rebellion, he smiled sweetly and waited for what I’d grace them with.

“And you think you have it in you to do that?” I gasped out cheekily, almost even winking at him, but instead I settled for letting my tongue peek out slightly and poking my upper lip with it, “A healthy confidence is sexy, but don’t oversell yourself, pretty boy.”

The moment Hoseok’s eyes darkened with slight aroused irritation, face pulling into a hard dominant mask, I knew I’d succeeded in pushing his buttons just right. I felt the hands holding me tighten, but his hips abruptly stilled.

A disbelieving chuckle came from Yoongi, who must have been comfortably sitting on the sofa behind us watching everything unfold. “Now you’ve done it, princess,” his deep raspy voice rumbled amusedly.

Anticipation set heavy into my bones, my whole body thrumming in excitement while I watched the tick in Hoseok’s jaw. I could almost see the cogs turning in his head, no doubt coming up with some way to punish me.

“Well, I think we have to teach our little guest some manners, don’t you hyung?” it was like a switch turned in him and there was no trace of the happy smiley man he was mere minutes ago, now only intense determination shined through his face as he began pulling away from me.

Yoongi hummed, then there was a sound of shifting and suddenly the man’s breaths were hitting my ear, the goosebumped skin of my neck shivering at his abrupt proximity. “I couldn’t agree more, Hob-ah,” the ginger whispered, but in the quiet office it was still perfectly audible.

The smirk that split Hoseok’s face was completely different from the one before and it frankly sent shivers down my spine in a somewhat jittery excitement.

Both men then stood up, leaving me alone on the table. Before I knew it, I was whining like a little abandoned pup, scrambling to get up as well, but a firm gesture to stay from Hoseok had me freezing in my spot, only a whimper escaping my mouth where I laid.

I watched them as they rummaged through a small closet, each pulling out something else. When they turned back to me, Yoongi was hiding something behind his back while Hoseok’s hand was wrapped around with some colourful piece of cloth. They made no move closer to me though, just stood there and watched me sprawled out on the little table.

I was squirming under their heated gazes, a little unsure and a lot desperate. I just wanted their hands on my body, their cocks stuffed in whatever hole they pleased, but I was so awfully alone there on that little table – that must have been illegal. Fighting the whimpers from trickling out of my mouth, I seeped in my embarrassment and lust, eyes begging them for anything.

“Look at her hyung,” Hoseok started, ever the more talkative one of the duo, “look how obedient and desperate she gets when we take the pleasure away from her.” The older man’s eyes glided over me for the thousandth time, hungry and burning, and I almost cowered from them on instinct.

“Not so mouthy now, are we princess?” he teased as well, in that voice of his that made me embarrassingly aroused.

Within moments Hoseok was back onto me, but now he just grabbed my waist and pressed me into the wood, arms and hips holding me from squirming but not touching me in any relief-inducing way.

I almost whined again when suddenly Yoongi’s hands entered my periphery from above, where he was situated back on the sofa behind me. While Hoseok held me still, the man grabbed both of my hands and started gently fastening a tie around the wrists, slowly enough to let me see what he was doing and loosely enough for me to protest anytime.

But the second I saw that happening, my breath hitch in excitement and I arched into Hoseok’s hands, the man quietly snickering to himself.

“This okay?” Yoongi’s voice was completely serious, devoid of any teasing from before. I nodded, but quickly remembered myself and before he could ask I rasped out a “yes!”. The answering smile washed over me along with a little murmur of “good girl” and I positively melted under them, hips desperately pushing down to find Hoseok’s.

“Are you familiar with the colour system?” the dark-haired man asked this time, eyes trained on his hyung carefully twisting and turning the tie to properly fasten a comfortable safe knot on it. I caught myself as I started nodding again, and instead croaked out another affirmative, pulling satisfied smiles out of them just as Yoongi lightly yanked on the binding and the knot shrank and tightened until it was snugly sitting on the skin of my wrists.

“Anything, and I mean anything, feels weird – don’t hesitate to let us know,” with last comforting murmur Yoongi moved back to sit onto the sofa – my nod must have been enough for him – and as he went my arms stretched backwards over my head. The ginger leisurely held onto the fabric like it was a leash, giving me slight room to move, but keeping his presence known.

Hoseok’s reassuring smile melted into a smug smirk and I held my breath in anticipation, ready to accept anything the man had in store for me. But instead of returning to me, he pulled back once more, the hands on my hips now almost bruising.

In a split of a second I found myself flipped over. My front hit the table with a big clank, almost sending the poor piece of furniture to the ground and knocking the wind out of me. Hoseok released a big breath, one hand pushing at the small of my back and keeping me pinned down, while the other started a slow journey up the outside of my thigh.

His teasing fingers at first only lightly grazed underneath the skirt, caressing the sensitive yearning skin before finally pushing the clothing out of the way, completely exposing my panties clad ass to the room. I shivered slightly, but the temperature was comfortable and I was only filled with overwhelming waves of lust and eagerness.

Hoseok’s hand gently caressed the skin for a moment, sometimes kneading and grabbing at the meat of my ass and lulling me into a false sense of security, before abruptly pulling back and landing a harsh slap on the right cheek. I gasped out a choked moan, whole body jerking forward with the force until my hips barrelled straight into the table. A loud bang of the table taking the hit combined with my noise of pleasure sounded through the room in a strange yet satisfying cacophony.

In this position I could clearly see Yoongi lounging back on the sofa watching us with dark eyes, hands flexing on the tie holding my bound wrists. His eyes jumped to mine the second his friend started administering the chosen punishment, something predatory swimming in them at my reaction. In that moment he felt more like a beast than a man, and one that wanted to eat me whole. The thought made me shudder, but in the best way possible.

I was quite sure that my own eyes must have been dazed and hazy with lust, as I could barely see through the film of pleasure blinding me, and Yoongi seemed to love that more than anything.

“Give her another, Hobi,” he encouraged the dark-haired man, and I realised he was probably monitoring whether I was okay as much as enjoying the view.

But all thoughts of anything flew right out of my mind the moment Hoseok’s hand descended onto me again, this time to the left side. The shock of pain ran through me like a zap of electricity, melting into pleasure as soon as it hit my bloodstream. The vision of Yoongi in front of me blurred as my eyes rolled back, a strangled moan releasing into the tensed air between us.

The next four spanks came quickly one right after the other, alternating between the cheeks and leaving behind stinging buzzing skin, more sensitive with every touch. I felt the burn there, and the ache of my hips continuously ramming into the wooden table also kept reminding me my position. But I didn’t care, too busy trying to dampen down my increasingly more high-pitch desperate groans and moans, before I embarrassed myself too much.

The wetness building up between my thighs was almost embarrassing, and I started to worry any moment I would start dripping down my legs just over a few spanks, and then Hoseok would never let me live it down.

Speaking of the devil, the man switched again to gently caressing the reddened tender area, humming lowly in his throat. I slumped onto the table, whining and whimpering at every soft swipe of his hand, every delicate pinch and handful he grabbed. Yoongi was smirking at me, but stayed silent, giving his friend all the space to do whatever he wanted.

“Look at you, being such a good girl now,” he purred slowly behind me, pushing his erection into my clothed core once more and teasing me with the hardened bump griding into me. The sudden realisation that I was wet enough for squelches to be heard with his tight thrusts hit me square in the chest and pushed another pathetic moan out of my throat. His hands once again pinned me down by my hips, making sure I wasn’t squirming underneath him and wouldn’t try to grind back at him, but I heard him groaning under his breath when he realised the same thing as well.

“All I had to do was spank you a little and put you in your place, and suddenly you’re all out of smart remarks,” Hoseok continued smugly (if a little breathlessly), hips smoothly riding me. I could hear his little sighs and half-moans with every thrust, obviously more desperate for relief than he was trying to let on.

I wanted to speak back to him, but my mind was blank, filled only with thoughts of his cock and his hands on me. Opening my mouth, only thing that was able to come out were strangled groans, and I worried I might start drooling soon too. And even if I did manage to speak, no doubt the only thing I’d be able to formulate would be pleas for Hoseok to stuff me full of his cock and fuck me dumb.

Yoongi was watching me with amusement, like I was pathetic, and the humiliation was burning through me and heightening everything I was already feeling.

“Aw, look at her hyung,” Hoseok continued, “can’t even speak now.” The older man hummed in satisfaction, tugging lightly on the tie and jostling me into paying more attention to the interaction. I put the last strains of brain power into talking back, the final try before I would be too lost and cock drunk.

“So pleased with yourselves, aren’t you boys,” the words came out of my mouth slightly slurred, but the cheeky lilt was still clearly detectable, and I chuckled tiredly, shimmying under Hoseok’s firm hands to try and get his cock closer to me.

To which the man swiftly reacted by pulling his hips away and instead bending over me. I felt the feather-light brushes of his shirt over the exposed parts of my back, but Hoseok never came any closer – not enough to feel his skin, only to have the feverish warmth of his body seep slowly into me from above.

“Be careful what you say, pretty,” his low voice warned me, the words delivered a touch too sensually to fully register in my mind, “that is, if you wanna get fucked tonight.”

“How many spanks did you get, princess?” Yoongi’s question came before my hazy brain could even fully process Hoseok’s warning, but I managed to choke out the answer, muddled mind going through the sharp delicious impacts to my skin.

Both men hummed, pleased that I kept track even without being told to. Hoseok finally lowered himself onto me, chest plastered to my back, skin pasted to skin by a thin sheen of sweat.

“Now, I was considering letting you off with six,” he murmured straight into my ear, “but it seems you do need the whole ten.” Then he was gone, only reminder of his presence was the sudden cold spot over me and the tingles running through my skin where we touched, and I shivered. My hips still pushed back needily, and he let me for a few moments, before his hand was back to caressing the throbbing red skin of my bottom.

The first spank was a fast one, delivering a more intense sting than the ones before. I gasped and braced myself, eagerly pushing my ass out and arching my back. Someone chuckled, and I had a hard time deciphering who, all my attention channelled into the two hands fondling the meat of my ass leisurely.

The press of his fingers into the burning flesh was something I swore I’d be able to remember 20 years from now, the sensation almost classifying as a life-changing event for my pathetic little brain as the anticipation of the next three spanks drove me crazy with need.

“She’s presenting nicely like a bitch in heat,” a deep voice whispered breathlessly, mockery and arousal mixing into his tone, “are we sure this is even a punishment for her?” In lieu of answer only a whiney moan left my mouth, hips shaking desperately and attempting to push back just as Hoseok delivered another sharp blow.

The last two were a little hazy for me – they came in a fast succession and immediately after the calming cooling caress of Hoseok’s hand returned, his voice soothing me with reassuring coos and purrs.

“What a good girl,” Yoongi whispered, tugging at the tie again to check on me. The praise poured over me, replenishing me body and soul like I was a thirsty traveller stumbling upon an oasis, and I slowly raised my head from the wood to blearily blink at the man. I was pretty sure there was a line of drool connecting me to the table, but I was too fried to care.

The ginger smiled at me, looking pleased more than anything, but still giving his younger friend free reign. Said man gave my bum a few more gentle pats before he helped me turn around on my back again, hooking my legs over his elbows to make it a little easier for me.

His face was flushed, a predatory grin spread over his face. I watched a drop of sweat slide down his neck and plunge down the perfect almost exposed chest, and while the man’s hair was all messy from our previous kissing, lips red from the lipstick I wore, his clothes were still firmly in place.

He was watching me with such overwhelming desire I almost melted right on the spot, the full force of my arousal making itself known in a single burst of fire. Suddenly the wetness in my panties became nigh unbearable, and my pussy fruitlessly clenched and oozed more juice in hopes of getting stuffed soon. And with Hoseok’s cock so close to my centre I was going even more mad with it.

“What do we think, baby? Have we learnt our lesson?” he asked me in a cheery voice, the taunting lilt provoking me and pushing my heated brain into overdrive to come up with a swift comeback. In the end I let the lust override the reason and blurted out what I really wanted.

“We think,” I started, my voice all breathless with a little rasp, “that maybe you should bury your pretty face in my cunt.” Immediately after those words tumbled out of me, a blush overtook my face in unexpected shyness. Even now I was still getting embarrassed – I’ve never bratted this much to anyone and I’ve certainly never said those exact words before – it was as exhilarating as it was terrifying.

Hoseok tsked at me and then looked to the older man while lightly shaking his head in faux disappointment.

“Oh dear, I think it’s only making her mouthier,” some darker breathier excitement crept into his voice, and it had me alerted in an instant, “what do we do, hyung?” The beastly smirk Yoongi gave in response felt like a bucket of ice water hitting me straight into my face, and I realised that they were planning something more from the beginning and I just played straight into their hands.

“I know these types, Hoseok-ah,” the ginger played along, but he was too excited to sell it properly, “and only one thing ever seems to work on them.” With that his hand reached somewhere down the sofa and grabbed a thin black flexible stick.

A whip. He had a whip.

My mind got transported back to before they spanked me, how Yoongi seemed to hide something behind his back. I got distracted real fast after that, but this must have been it.

I’d never used it before with anyone and as much as slight nervousness set into me, it was heavily overshadowed by the rush of exhilaration. With a single look at it I felt my body jerk in response, pussy clenching and singing in praise.

“Let’s see how bratty you are when you’re too busy crying from overstimulation, princess,” debauchery dripping off of him like pouring rain, pelting me right in my weakest points and leaving me gasping and breathless. I very much did want to see that.

A loud snapping of fingers had me whirling my head back to Hoseok who wore a serious expression, only getting emphasised by the obvious lust swirling in his blackened orbs.

“Colour, baby?” he rasped out, hands kneading the meat of my thighs slowly, in a hypnotising loop of thrills. I swallowed with some difficulty, getting steadily pulled into his intense gaze.

“G-green,” I stuttered out, buckling under the sudden aura these two were exuding, like I only now realised that I was in the presence of two domineering men. The slight hesitation before my answer was noticed as well, and while I was merely taking my time to know surely this is something I wanted, the men seemed to be worried by it.

“You sure?” Hoseok enquired again, mellowing out the rough touch into a gentle caress to make me more comfortable. I nodded, hurriedly and a tad too excitedly, drawing a chuckle from Yoongi still sitting behind me.

“Yes. Green,” I repeated, this time firmer and surer to chase away any doubts they could have. Yoongi’s hand started a slow path along the sensitive inside of my arm, his energy shifting into something more predatory and tangible, making sure I was aware of him.

“Have you ever played with a whip before, princess?” the ginger drawled out sensuously, amusement evident in his tone. I wanted to turn my head to look at him, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the way Hoseok’s face crumbled back into lust.

“No…” the word slipped out of my mouth in a whisper. It almost felt like both of them were holding their breath for something, something that was escaping me in my scrambled state.

“Are you excited to try?” came the next question, now feeling Yoongi lightly nose at my wrists, just shy of kissing there, making me shudder under the sensation. I just breathlessly nodded, not having the strength to actually find my voice. The ginger snickered and smacked a loud kiss to one of my wrists.

“Don’t worry baby, we’ll go easy on you,” he whispered the promise and then pulled away again, gesturing at Hoseok to do what he wanted. The dark-haired man happily giggled and immediately grabbed my thighs, spreading them without much preamble.

I squeaked in surprise, hands jerking to go cover myself, but they got tugged back into Yoongi’s lap. Hoseok paid me no mind though, and didn’t waste time in putting his lips to the smooth skin near my ankle, showing off with loud wet kisses trailing quickly down.

As he was descending down my legs, his quick skilful hands found their way beneath my skirt (that was barely covering anything anyway) and started tugging at my panties, dragging them up my thighs to take them off. The wet spot spanned almost the entire seat of the panties and the size of it would be more embarrassing if I didn’t see the way Hoseok’s eyes rolled back at the sight, the excitement rushing through his body on a shudder. At the same time a veiny knuckley hand descended onto me from behind and tugged my crop up to release my tits from my bra.

Before I knew it Hoseok was bending over and had his face buried in my cunt while the handy little whip was teasingly circling one of my nipples. I barely managed to gasp out, drowning under sudden barrage of sensations and body growing confused under the different stimulations.

The dark-haired man started enthusiastically licking around my drenched folds, swiftly attaching himself to my clit and sucking with loud slurps, hands tightening on my thighs and keeping them thrown over his shoulders. The zap of pleasure hit me like a tank and I arched, mouth opening on a silent moan – and Yoongi, the bastard that he was, chose that exact moment to raise the whip and slap one of my nipples enough that it stung a little.

The desperate cry that left my mouth was almost unrecognisable from my voice, but it wasn’t a negative noise – quite the opposite, if the rush of slick that hit Hoseok’s hungry mouth still latched onto my pussy was anything to go by. The man groaned, debauched and dark eyes rolling back into his skull, before redoubling his efforts and wildly licking and sucking at the swollen lips and clit, slowly working his tongue around my hole and pushing in.

While my body tried to cope with the flood of liquid fire from Hoseok’s eager ministrations, my brain was continuously stuttering under the stinging sensation of Yoongi’s whip slapping my nipples in a seemingly whimsical manner. The man of course, once he caught wind of my obvious interest, didn’t hold back and used the little tool to alternatingly caress and lightly smack both of my breasts.

The dual stimulation made my brain melt quick, and soon I found myself to be a drooling moaning mess under the ministrations of two eager demons. I was teetering on the edge of cumming, the heat and pleasure accumulating in my lower belly until it was dangerously close to consuming me whole; and with every little suck on my clit and another hit from the whip I jerked a little closer to it snapping.

But it wouldn’t be them if they didn’t play with me a little, and every time Hoseok felt me nearing the edge he pulled off, roughly biting into the meat of my thighs to distract me with more delicious pain while watching his hyung distribute his own discipline on me.

“Fuck, I don’t think I can take it anymore,” he moaned helplessly into my skin finally, hand migrating to grab and fondle the bursting tent in his black slacks, groaning in relief immediately.

“Go ahead Hob-ah, have your fun,” Yoongi purred from the couch, the warmed leather of the whip now trying to soothe the sting with gentle caresses. The man didn’t even answer verbally, only let himself slump into me with a loud moan.

Once again he wasted no time, hands scurrying to undo his pants. He quickly shucked of his blouse, revealing the beautiful smooth muscled torso he hid beneath. I only had a moment to fully sink in the beauty of his arms stretching as he pulled his top off before his trousers were pushed down his hips. Sinking all the way to his knees, Hoseok paid them no more attention as he started hurriedly fisting his flushed red cock just begging for release.

Reminiscent of my reaction to getting spanked, I was unwittingly spreading my legs and arching off the table to offer up my pussy to him on a silver platter. The sinful smirk he gave in response made me even wetter (if that was possible), and I released a series of high needy moans.

“Look at our baby, all mute and docile now,” Hoseok teased, smirking up a smug storm, somehow regaining some semblance of a composure. I couldn’t find it in myself to reply, brain mush and hole wet and needy, so I just moaned again. It was so much easier to let myself ride the wave, to let all thoughts slip away and give myself over into their skilful hands – I felt no more need to sass back, I just wanted to cum. The two men giggled, and I heard a tearing of a foil packet, redirecting my dazed eyes towards Hoseok just to see him putting on a condom.

Anticipation ran through me, my horny mind recognising that I would be getting cock inside of me soon, needy cunt clenching and gushing desperately. Hoseok started pushing in practically immediately, impatient and wanting, and I was so wet and ready for him that he sunk in without a problem on the first stroke, pushing a helpless groan out of the man immediately.

I hadn’t even stopped moaning yet when Hoseok pulled back and thrust back in, overriding my senses with burning pleasure – it felt like my brain was buffering and short-circuiting under the never-ending overwhelming sensations. I finally felt so deliciously full, and it scratched something deep inside me, body catching up quickly and erupting into mindless ecstasy. After a few experimental strokes he set a speedy pace, desperately pumping his hips into me, jostling me on the table. If he wasn’t gripping onto my thighs so tightly, I’d probably find myself sliding up with the force of his lust, while the dark-haired man lost himself to my wet heat.

The moans spilled out of him freely, bronze sweaty body rippling with the movements and teasing some abs. When I managed to take control of myself and perceive anything through my own desperate staccato moans and gasps, I saw the man’s hazy gaze, unfocused eyes glazed over with ecstasy. It made my own lust mount immeasurably, building on my previous almost-there orgasm and throwing me headfirst into heady bliss. The scorching heat gathering deep in my core spilled over shocks of fire through my bloodstream, getting more intense with every stroke, with every time his tip bumped into the magic spot inside of me and made me shudder, so close to release I could almost taste it on my fucking tongue.

Tugging on my hands alerted me to Yoongi’s presence, the stagnant whip now moving again, teasingly making its way across my chest and tummy, here or there thumping down lightly to keep me on my toes. I heard his purred-out hums and rumbles at my eager reactions even through Hoseok’s groans and gasps, even through the wet slapping of skin on skin as he pumped into me wildly.

Just when I got used to the feeling of the leather travelling across my skin, Yoongi distributed four quick slaps, alternating between my nipples. The impact made me jerk in surprise before the delectable mix of pleasure and pain caught up to me and poured through my veins and nerves and I cried out on a moan. I felt my body spasm, cunt clenching and trapping Hoseok’s cock into the warm pulsating walls. A loud desperate moan cut through the room, the dark-haired man’s hips stuttered into me, and I felt his cock throb and twitch inside of me – and it drove me fucking insane with need, my hungry wet cunt attempting to suck him deeper and deeper in mindless lust that overrode all rhyme and reason.

His face spoke of inconceivable bliss, screwed into a grimace of a man on the brink of glory, red and sweaty with mouth hanging open, and breathing hard. He stilled for a moment, trying to catch his breath, his cock lodged inside of me begging for release. For few long seconds we exchanged exhausted but content smiles before Yoongi became tired of being ignored.

His whip suddenly smacked my tummy, making me clench again and in succession torturing Hoseok further as he tried to stave off his oncoming orgasm. Our breaths hitched at the same time, our gazes trained to the little black tool slowly sliding down to my cunt. It seemed that both of us had an inkling as to what Yoongi was planning – considering Hoseok’s wink and winning smirk towards his older friend while I was filled with dark anticipation, gaze glued to the sight of it rising right above my mound and coming down almost in slow-motion.

The first smack to my clit almost made me cum on the spot, all the accumulated pleasure bursting in a blinding jolt making my body contort. Hoseok’s hips jumped forward, answering the endless squeezing of my cunt with breathless moans. I thought I heard Yoongi chuckle, but I wasn’t sure through the ringing in my ears.

And then everything disappeared, melted out of my head in a barrage of moans full of honeyed lust as he started slapping my clit, swiftly, in a way that made it sting but the outpouring of achey pleasure that made everything staticky and muffled was worth it thousand times. The continuous feeling of a nearing climax mounting in me was overwhelming me, sending my thighs into fits of tremors.

Hoseok started up his pace again – unable to deny himself any longer and fucking into me hard and quick, obviously chasing his high and helplessly losing to the tidal wave about to swallow him whole. As the stimulation of his cock drilling into me and barrelling into my g-spot returned, even through the fog in my mind I knew I was a goner. The wet squelch of my pussy seemed to intensify, signalling the oncoming beast of a climax too.

Yoongi also kept up his antics, periodically bringing the whip down straight onto my clit and making me jerk and cry pathetically under them (though Hoseok seemed pretty lost too). My hands were pulled over to his lap and in my plight I grabbed onto his thigh to gain at least some stable point. I felt his hand briefly squeeze mine in support, the tender touch calming my beating heart a bit. I screwed my eyes shut, head thrown back and body thrumming, just waiting for the final push.

But then Yoongi was back to his agenda, delivering few hard quick hits down onto my clit. My body tensed up, shaking and right on the brink of a powerful orgasm and head full of cotton and buzzing. Hoseok was also losing his mind, hips accelerating and balls drawing in tight, and I knew he was about to cum as well.

All it took was the sensation of Hoseok thrusting in hard a few more times before he burst, cock throbbing uncontrollably as he came with a piercing cacophony of high-pitched moans, and Yoongi smacking down one last time before my whole body locked, then everything exploded in me and I was suddenly cumming so hard I was surprised I didn’t simply burst into pieces. Distantly I was aware that I was screaming out, but everything was muted through the humming and ringing in my ears, eyes rolled back into my skull rendering me blind. I jerked with the waves of pleasure, warmth pumping into me from all directions and pushing me deeper into a dark fog, pulling me under the endless billows of scorching honeyed nectar spreading through me.

It rocked me whole, thighs and hips shaking while Hoseok desperately grasped at me going through the shockwaves as well, still unwittingly pumping into me to ride out the wave. The added sting of overstimulation prolonged everything and made it sharper, making my toes curl with the mind-numbing pleasure.

When the high started ebbing away, I felt drugged, or on the verge of blackout drunk – eyes barely able to keep open, unseeing through the film over them, face wet with drool and tears. I didn’t feel fully in my body, like I was floating above the table and saw the whole world through cotton candy.

Hoseok was saying something, but his words were slurred as well and I could barely hear anyway. He slumped over me, hips finally calm, and by the bonelessness of his form it could be judged that he went through similarly intense experience. I was suddenly hyper-aware of the amount of sweat that was pouring off of us, of our chests rising in tandem trying to catch our breaths and failing at it desperately.

There was some shuffling and then my arms were released, the tie binding them together gone – but they still immediately flopped down, no strength in them left. Someone pressed their face close to mine, ginger locks coming into my view but not fully connecting as I was still out of it, fighting off sleep.

But then Hoseok started moving, pulling away from me and out of my pussy, and I was jostled from the floaty space somewhere in between, slowly settling back into my bones and feeling the content ache still overriding all of my nerves.

The sound slowly came in and I realised that Yoongi was actually gently whispering praises into me, kissing softly along my neck and jawline while “such a good girl” and “took it so well” slipped out of his mouth on a murmur.

I moved my head just enough to see the dark-haired man collapse onto the carpet, half slumped into the leg of the sofa, grinning at me all doped out and still half naked with his pants undone. Yoongi quietly prowled over to the other side of the table, for the first time since we came here putting himself into my direct line of sight. And while his touch stayed respectful and soothing, his starving eyes ate up my messy wet swollen pussy like it was his last meal.

But then instead of touching me more he leaned over for some discarded clothing item, lightly dragging it down my thighs to clean up the juices that got all over me while Hoseok was fucking me. My eyes naturally slipped to the unmissable bulge tenting his black jeans (he must have taken off his hoodie somewhere during the session) and I couldn’t hold back the whine, brain still not quite capable of putting my thoughts together in a civilised manner.

In that moment it was simply unconceivable to me that he’d be left without release, and in a split moment I stubbornly made up my mind that I needed to make him cum, right there right that instant. But the man was cleaning me up, that was simply terrible!

Another whine, this time more desperate and forlorn, finally tore Yoongi from his chore and he gave me a soft smile, worriedly looking at me to ascertain what was wrong.

“What’s up, baby? What’s wrong?” he asked gently, and I whined again, frustrated with myself that it took me such an effort to put together a simple sentence, but finally I managed to sweat it out.

“Wanna make you cum,” I whimpered pathetically, and the man was split between smug smirks and kind smiles – obviously still horny out of his mind but thinking that he shouldn’t push me.

“You’re such a good girl angel, wanting to take care of me, but I can manage,” Yoongi tried to soften the rejection as much as possible, afraid I would take it badly while I was in a fragile state. But thankfully I was steadily regaining all of my abilities again, and I squirmed on the poor little table that went through all this with me.

“Green,” I stated firmly, looking him in the eye, still somewhat dazed but much more present, “Please fuck me too, Yoongi, please. Wanna feel you cum. Want you to use me as a toy.” The compassionate care-taking look immediately drained out of his eyes, and for the first time I was hit with the full force of his arousal. His dark blown-out pupils starvingly regarded me, hands now giving up on the cloth and instead slowly making their way to my stomach and waist.

“Well,” the ginger whispered sensually, “since you’re begging so nicely…” My cunt clenched at those words, slowly coming back alive and contracting almost painfully in such feral anticipation it left me breathless. The prospect of having him buried inside of me hilt-deep was enough to almost make me drool again, and I spread my legs more to him.

Yoongi’s gaze was trained on my chest though, hands reverently kneading the skin on their way up until he grasped my tits, letting out a staggered sigh. But as soon as he got there he flinched away, pulling himself away to fling his shirt off, hands excitedly tearing at his pants and getting them off as quickly as was humanly possible.

“I swear to god I normally put more care into foreplay, but I’m about to fucking explode,” Yoongi breathed out apological, snatching the condom Hoseok leaned over to give him and without wasting any time pulling it onto his throbbing red cock with a hiss of relief.

I only nodded, eyes too busy sliding over his naked torso and admiring his pretty tits and slim waist. He could probably stick it right in now and wouldn’t meet a shadow of resistance, my cunt was so nicely slicked up and fucked out, so ready and hungry for him it was basically begging to get railed.

Still the man leaned over me as he shuffled closer, putting himself firmly between my thighs and pressing his length into my slit while be busied himself licking and mouthing over my tits. His body was curled over me nicely, damp skin pressed into damp skin and driving the temperature even higher, making me feel small and safe under him, and my hands grabbed onto him, desperately whining and pulling him closer.

With a soft groan he finally folded and reached between us, grabbing himself and guiding his cock into my awaiting cunt – and I was right – I was so wet I swallowed him all up and he slid all in on the first try. He was thicker than Hoseok (even though not as long) and hit all the right spots on the way in. I released a pleased little sigh, basking in the feeling of being full again, but the man was in considerably worse shape.

Unlike Hoseok’s unabashed high moans, Yoongi was full of gruff drawn-out groans and gasps while his hips jumped on their own, starting up a slow grind to curb the edge of the surmounting pleasure.

“Fuck baby, this won’t last long at all,” the man giggled somewhat shyly, planting his face right into the crook of my neck to kiss there as he tried to prolong the experience for as long as possible. I released my own little breathless snicker, and that had Yoongi giving me a chastising look, raising an eyebrow at me in signal that he was still ready to put me in my place if I chose to brat out. I didn’t, only gave him a blissed-out smile and rolled my hips with a sigh.

Yoongi only hummed, and I almost expected him to start up some smartass monologuing, but then he was thrusting forward, hard and deep, and it knocked all thoughts out of my mind. The ginger man’s style was completely different from the fucking I received before him – he started up with a slow but rough pace, focusing on jerking into me forcefully and sliding as far as my body would allow instead on quickness.

While Hoseok’s fucking was a chaotic hot mess of quick-paced rough sex that left me breathless, Yoongi plastered himself to me and went unhurriedly but on every heavy thrust imprinted himself deeper and deeper into my core and fully overwhelmed my senses. The ringing in my ears started up again, and I was already overheating with the gooey ball of fire forming in my belly. I felt dizzy and hazy, my little moans and sighs getting cut off midway with the power behind Yoongi’s hips.

He played me masterfully, gradually speeding up, at first not fast enough to have me notice but to have my nerves overloaded with a mounting surge of pleasure. Then he ended it all. With a smirk that I would have found insufferable in any other circumstance (or if I was more present and not losing my mind on a cock) his hand lazily dragged up my tummy, up my chest, teasingly squeezing a tit on the way, before it settled on my neck. Game over town.

I froze, tensing underneath the man, and then I melted, stretching my head away and offering up my neck all he wanted with a whimper and a whine. And with a chuckle he used it all to his advantage, dear god that he did.

“Let’s go back to our roots, princess,” he whispered meanly straight into my ear, naughty lips brushing the shell of my ear while his hand tightened a touch, “isn’t this what you asked for those two weeks ago?” A barrage of moans spilled out of my slack mouth, my mind already burning with the anticipation of the tight hold of his beautiful strong hands.

Yoongi seemed to have pulled himself together a little for the purpose of teasing this out for a little longer, though both of us were already running full speed towards the finish line.

He straightened out, looming over me darkly with hungry eyes as his hand slowly tightened around my neck, lightly squeezing the sides to give me the rush of adrenaline. Any noise that would have barrelled out of my hoarse throat got cut off and I got light-headed fast, with all the sensations running through me with the flow of oxygen significantly lessened pushing me into an almost out of body experience.

The ginger man picked up his pace, delivering rough hard deep thrusts, eyes hazy and reflecting just how close he was to his own climax. I felt his dick throb and twitch as it rammed into my sweet spot, practically pushing both of us into the beginning stages of overstimulation because neither of us could hold on for much longer.

Hoseok still leisurely sat by us, leaning into the sofa and watching everything unfold half naked, underwear back on but pants still wide open and chest on full display. His eyes were darkened in interest, but he looked proper sated and only enjoying the show as a bystander. I noticed the dark-haired man’s eyes glued to the hand on my neck, eating up the desperate expression on my face and the flush spreading over me whole, like he was filing it all into his memory for a rainy day.

A quick slap to the side of my thigh brought my attention back to the man that was currently railing me into the next week, and he tsked at me with mocking mischievous eyes when he saw me flushing under him in embarrassment.

“Pay attention to me princess,” he hissed breathlessly, “you can ogle Hobi later.” That had his friend chuckling and he shuffled closer, settling in behind me. One of his hands slid softly into my hair only to grab roughly and pull my head back, adding the sting of pain to my already overloaded brain trying to keep up with the periodic tightening and loosening of Yoongi’s hand on my throat and the onslaught of pleasure from his cock. He kept my head in place as he leaned in close and started whispering sweetly into my ears.

All praises, good girl, doing so good, you’re perfect and more, all spilling from his beautiful lips like caramel candy and melting over me, sinking me deeper into staticky molases-like headspace.

“That’s right, what a good girl,” Yoongi reiterated, mumbling the praises with a heavy tongue, he himself slipping into the cosmic pull of the promised high, “take what you need, pretty girl, let go.”

And I did.

The build up of the orgasm creeped up on me – there was no monumental wave, no big crash, only slowly rising tide pulling me deeper and deeper without me realising how close I was to getting pulled under.

The constant stimuli of the Yoongi’s hips barrelling into mine, slapping into my clit and filling me so deliciously I wanted to scream and growl, my body wanted to twist under the pleasure but he kept me in place, not giving me any other choice but to lie still and take the endless cycle of lust and ecstasy, his hand squeezing my neck whenever he pleased, letting his presence known and pushing me into the table, forcing me back into the cotton candy hum as my oxygen deprived brain desperately fought to keep up.

I let it all wash over me, fully trying to feel all the sensations at once and getting hit with the flood of good good good oh god yes god yes please until I was screaming under them, body convulsing and cunt clenching on him one last time before I released all. The relief of the orgasm was immense and I went slack almost immediately while my thighs shook around Yoongi, the slick squelch of my pussy intensifying with every helpless pump.

Distantly I realised my own screams and moans while my body shook with the waves and aftershocks, until I went ragdoll on them and nothing but pure satisfaction and contentment flowed through me, mind completely scrambled.

Yoongi released his hold on me, instead hauling my legs over his shoulders and pressing my thighs to his abdomen, hips kicking up in pace. I twitched under him, pussy sore and sensitive but still willing to receive him in all his glory.

I heard the hitches in Yoongi’s breathing, both me and Hoseok watching him from below as he blindly chased after his climax knowing he’s so close it was palpable in the air.

Then a few rough pumps later the man suddenly pulled out, hand tearing the condom away and hurriedly jerking his red angry cock until he was twitching and spilling all over the back of my thighs. I felt his hot cum hit my heated skin and my cunt clenched so hard it was almost painful; at that moment I thanked god it wasn’t enough to get me going again, because I didn’t think I could handle another round.

Yoongi was still grunting and groaning breathlessly, one hand supporting him on the table while he attempted to catch his breath while Hoseok gently caressed my arms and hair to help me come down from everything.

I was too tired to think about anything, I just wanted to sink into their warmth and let them lull me to comfortable sleep. I let them manhandle me into a better position to be cleaned up, but I grumbled the whole time, already halfway unconscious and annoyed at being jostled from the soft floaty space somewhere above this plane of existence.

To their credit, they both tried their best to move me as slowly as possible, both softly cooing at me and giving out praises easily, but I ended up blinking the tiredness out of my eyes anyway and my brain cleared up. I still ate it all up and played up my grumbling to their great amusement.

Moments later I found myself wrapped in Yoongi’s black oversized hoodie, lying down on a comfortable soft blanket on the carpet with a pillow stuffed between my head and arm, while the men cuddled up to me from both sides. Something thin and cool was thrown over all of us, not exactly a blanket, but enough to give me the feel of not being completely exposed.

“You should let your friends know you’re okay,” Yoongi whispered, Hoseok sleepily humming from my other side, and before I could complain whinily about not knowing where my phone is, he was pressing it into my clumsy uncoordinated hands. I mumbled my thanks and blinked through the sudden ray of light cutting straight into my eyes. Blindly I clicked on the chat and wrote something half passing as a reassurement.

Petty bitch: mission accomplished sleeping over

With that I was completely dead to the world – all snuggled up into a lightly snoring Hoseok while Yoongi’s hand tenderly caressed up and down my side, not even realising an immediate answer came through.

Pink nightmare: atta girl :*

“Jesus fucking christ, I might have as well gotten run over by a truck,” were the first words tumbling out of my lips that morning when Hoseok shook me awake mumbling something about putting my clothes on.

Yoongi was nowhere to be seen, but at least the dark-haired man seemed to be similarly ruffled as he tried to stretch out groaning, face puffy and tired. He still giggled at my words though, and helped me stand up.

I did try to put my clothes on, but none of my limbs were cooperating and I ended up fumbling around like a newborn giraffe until Hoseok took pity on me and pulled my clothes on for me as I steadied myself on his shoulder. He was laughing at me the whole time, to which I replied by smacking him repeatedly while whining that this was all their fault.

As we stumbled back into the club area hand in hand, I finally got a glimpse of the ginger man, who was standing by the bar laughing around with a tired but still happy looking Tae. They seemed to be counting last night’s profit and the ginger bastard looked completely fine, a total one eighty from the two of us making our way over in snail’s pace.

Tae saw us first and the smirk he gave us was so shit-eating even I was considering slapping it off his face (a sentiment which seemed to be returned by Hoseok whole-heartedly). Yoongi’s laugh joined into the fray, and we just stood there and listened to them be greatly amused by the state of us.

“Holy shit hyung! What the fuck did you do to them?” exclaimed the other barkeep, a small thin guy with a pretty face and cutesy vibe, who was cackling like the devil himself when Hoseok glared at him, one arm still pulled around me like we were leaning on each other to stand (we might have been, honestly I was still pretty much asleep).

“Shut it Jimin-ah, I might still decide to keep the bonus to myself,” the man by my side threatened with no real heat behind it, and thus was promptly ignored by all three other occupants of the club while they entertained themselves by snickering at us.

Yoongi slowly walked over, face melting into something a little softer as he took us in, the slightest bit of worry worming onto his face. “You both okay, right?” he whispered to us, one hand squeezing my arm and other squeezing Hoseok’s. I snickered right back at him, amused by how he was trying to not show his tender side.

“Yeah, don’t worry, just half asleep on my feet,” I replied loudly, earning some chuckles from the two young guys at the bar, but they did seem quite used to their hyung’s shenanigans.

He lightly squeezed my shoulder before letting go, more serious gaze sent towards his business partner and friend, which had Hoseok sobering up pretty quickly.

“I’m sorry princess, we’d love to have a breakfast, but unfortunately we have a meeting with a potential partner,” Yoongi explained apologetically, and Hoseok groaned next to me, crumbling into my shoulder and loudly fake crying.

“I completely forgot about that,” he whinily complained, arms snaking around my waist like I was his personal emotional support stuffed animal (well, I was stuffed just a few hours prior, soo…), “I’ll have to go shower and change home and it’s across the whole city.” Yoongi looked unimpressed and pulled him from my side, the man pouting and blinking at him in an attempt to garner sympathy.

“Come on Seok-ah, Kookie’s here to drive us and my place is closer,” the ginger man murmured, trying to placate him – and it worked. Whoever this Kookie was, Hoseok brightened right up at the mention of him and started happily skipping towards the exit.

There was some booing and disgruntled “you’re never this happy about seeing me hyung!” screaming from behind the bar, but all fell on deaf ears as Yoongi started pulling me after the man and I barely even managed to shout my goodbyes.

“Kookie’ll get you home, pretty girl,” he promised with a tender smile, looking so kind and gentle it was almost a whiplash from the predatory smirk and sharp eyes from yesterday. Hoseok was already on the street hanging off of a laughing tattooed man.

His name was Jungkook I learnt, and he was pretty cool and obviously loved both men as his brothers, as the teasing and jokes flew between them the whole ride. Yoongi and Hoseok requested to be dropped off first, so I sat squeezed between them in the backseat while I bickered with Jungkook about the best drama currently running on TV.

Once out of car at the given address, both the men suddenly did seem quite in a hurry, but neither of them left without a hug, a kiss and some naughty words exchanged sneakily while their hands possessively grabbed at me unwilling to part.

“Keep the hoodie, princess,” Yoongi said finally, pulling Seok away and pointing at the clothing I forgot I was still wearing, “You can return it to me next time.” They both winked at me and with that, they were gone – disappearing into a very nice high-rise building in a posh neighbourhood.

With a bit of shame and still blushing from their displays of affection I told Jungkook my own address and he took me there gladly, even though he was teasing me about his hyungs the whole time.

It was all over too soon – before I knew I was standing in front of my quite average building, waving off Jungkook as he drove off god knows where, feeling quite happy even if a little lonely after spending the night with the two men.

His promise of seeing me again kept me warm though, and I reached in my handbag to pull out my keys – only for a little piece of paper to fall out. I bent over and took a look at it before bursting out laughing.

Min Yoongi +82 145-5286-036, Jung Hoseok +82 634-1654-220

Those sly bastards.

divider from @saradika-graphics <3

[notherpuppet]

Do you think there's a right and/or wrong way to handle QPR? I know it's a tricky relationship, but it feels like most/some people kind of just slap the label onto a ship while depicting the ship as just romantic/having no difference with a romantic relationship. (this is why I was a little surprised when you said you do radioapple qpr when it reads a lot more like normal romance). Not meant as an attack or anything on anyone, just genuinely curious more than anything. Again, tricky relationship

So Imma put this link to info at the top of this post: https://taaap.org/2022/07/16/qprs-part-one/

Alright, so please take what I say with a grain of salt, because that's exactly what it is. One small bit of perspective in a mass of many people who experience QPRs in their life and/or are on an aro/ace spectrum. I also have NO QUALIFICATIONS on gender/sexuality theory, so my opinions are shaped by what I've learned and experienced personally. While people may identify with the same term, we are all still individuals with our own experiences. Words can help describe a phenomenon, but it doesn't make everyone who identifies with the word into a monolith.

So I've stated a few times that I navigate shipping Alastor similar to my own experiences as an aroace person. (I guess I'm sharing about myself with this post, but I think that can be helpful to just spreading awareness of an "alternative lifestyle"). So I'm romance-repulsed and sex-repulsed LOL but I'm also "positive" about those things. Like I view romance and sex as lovely, fun experiences people can have, but I've never been into it personally. It's fun for me to consume media about romance/sex, but yknow, it's also fun for me to consume media about violence or isolation. Doesn't mean I want to experience or engage in any of those things lol.

Anyway, I'm a huge people person and I love to party and yknow it seems most people are really wanting to fall in love or fuck or whatever pretty much all the time, but especially at parties hahaha. Normally, I'm pretty touch-averse, but I love dancing so much and it's a blast to dance with a partner (salsa especially!! i don't care for grinding for probably obvious reasons). And to connect the two previous sentences, people (whatever gender they are) would be very kissy-touchy on the dancefloor. Which i honestly dont really give a fuck about hahaha. I don't really get anything out of kissing but I also don't mind it. I just like to dance. It's all a pretty superficial--but still genuinely fun--experience for me.

When it comes to my deeper or more intimate connections, I have had friendships that have felt SO on the line of what was viewed as a romantic relationship. They were exceptional friends and we connected on a level that was deep and true, but it wasn't romantic. Sometimes we'd slow dance, sometimes we kissed, and it rocked. But it wasn't more than that, it was all that it needed to be. I didn't want more and neither did they (except one situation and so we had to stop being friends lol whoops). From the outside, people would even refer to us as partners in a half joking way, but we really were just friends. And I love those friends!! And a huge part of what made those relationships (which at the time were described as 'situationships' because we didn't know any of these terms haha) was their convenience. We either lived in the same building, worked together, or were neighbors LOL. I'm still friends with those absolutely lovely folks, but we don't live around each other, so our QPR just appears a lot more like any ole regular friendship. But it's not like there was a feeling that we transitioned into something different than before. It twas what it twas! (Had to take a pause while I was typing to reminisce fondly for a second, okay back to hazbin hahaha)

SO, whenever someone asks or it comes up, MOST OF THE TIME I do ship alastor through an aroace lens and experience with QPRs (specifically, MINEE because they were fun and I've never felt like doing this before I met a character like Al). And my XP is: "this isn't gonna be a partnership and we ain't fucking" LMFAO. so yeah!

When it comes to using a queer term like QPR, I just hope folks are considerate in their writing, but I also am inclined to just believe them if they say that's their intention because QPRs can look very different. Again, aroace and ace folks are not a monolith. The terms help to describe a human's experience. I'm inclined to think people are writing in good faith.

And all this being said, I want to just emphasize that I really don't think it's necessary to consider any of this shit if you want to ship a fictional character. I understand wanting to be protective of a character who shares an identifier with you (I personally don't wanna see romance/sex with Al in canon). But shipping is a fun thing a fandom does that often does ignore canon. Tale as old as time. I don't think anyone needs to be beholden to canon when they're writing fanfiction or having fun. If we did, I would have like--5 artworks on this blog hahaha. These characters are like dollies, do whatever you want. It's cool if people don't like it and I think it's cool if people do. It's just not that serious. There are ships I'm not particularly into or dynamics that I am not enchanted by, but whatever. I can just scroll or close my eyes.

TLDR; shipping in fandom doesn't need to be taken seriously at ALL. It can just be fun way for someone to play with fictional characters they like. That being said, I think it's good practice to use queer terms thoughtfully.

[zepskies]

Down to the Crust

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: You’ve set out on a very specific mission for Dean. The problem is, you now have ulterior motives for your (formerly) pure love of baking.

Request: Since reading your imagine, "Dean Gives You an Impossible Choice," I have not been able to shake it, one point specifically. I was wondering if I could request a fic where the reader is learning to bake pies for Dean. She's best friends with the boys, but she and Dean have undisclosed feelings for each other…

AN: You guys know I love baking shenanigans lol. This one is set at a particular time during season 14…

Song Inspo: “Joy” by Blackstreet

Word Count: 2.6K

Tags/Warnings: Flangst, hurt/comfort, hint of spice~

No, no, no, no, NO!

You did your best to scoop out the salt you’d just poured into the flour.

You can’t really be this dumb, you berated yourself. How could you confuse one white powdery thing for another? Salt vs. sugar—it wasn’t that hard!

You shook your head in simmering frustration. You decided to just dump the whole contents of the bowl, salty flour and all, into the garbage. You’d have to start again…for the third time now. 

Frankly, this was getting ridiculous. You could make cookies, brownies, even cupcakes (with homemade buttercream).

How hard could a pie really be?

Maybe it was the telltale tremble of nerves in your hands.

Maybe it was because you had an ulterior motive for doing this, besides your formerly pure love of baking.

Maybe because this promised dessert was for one pie-loving glutton who was set to come upstairs from the garage any minute. Or at least, whenever Dean’s stomach finally called him back to the kitchen.

Though recently, he hadn’t been all that hungry. He’d denied your friendly offer of a snack earlier (since when did he turn down taquitos?), and he’d barely touched the pizza you guys had for dinner yesterday. (One slice? The man could eat half a pizza in one sitting. To your knowledge, there wasn’t a pie he didn’t like.)

Dean hid it well, but he wasn’t on his game. You knew why, of course, but…

You sighed and measured out the last of your flour for a fresh try. If you messed this one up, you’d literally have to wash your hands of this mission. And yes, it had become mission fucking impossible, as far as you were concerned.

Once the flour was safely mixed with a cup of sugar, you cut up some chilled butter to create the pastry dough. You followed the instructions in the recipe even more carefully this time, from your open laptop on the kitchen counter. The keyboard was dusted with flour at this point, along with your hands and arms. You even felt it under your nails and in your hair, but you didn’t care.

You were going to make this damn pie if it killed you.

You’d even bought real cherries, not the canned filling. It meant more work for you in removing all the pits inside them, but this was worth the extra labor.

However, as it just occurred to you, you’d left them simmering with some sugar, lemon juice, and cornstarch in a pan, around the time of your second attempt at pastry dough.

“No!” you gasped, hastening to open the lid and checking the saucepan.

Oh, thank God, you thought, seeing that the cherry filling wasn’t bubbling over. It actually looked like the proper thickened consistency and smelled delicious. You just needed to do some more stirring.

An hour or so later, you had successfully shaped the dough, chilled and poured in the filling, and covered it with the (embarrassingly uneven) lattice work on top.

“Whatever. The man still believes in the Five-Second Rule. He’ll eat this,” you muttered as you slid the pie in. You even remembered to do an egg wash on top. You admired it for a moment in its raw pastry form, then closed the lid to the oven with a nod of satisfaction.

You wore a wide smile, feeling accomplished, until you turned around and saw the disaster you’d made of the kitchen. Flour was dusted across the counters, a pile of dishes in the sink, cherry remnants in the pan and dripping across the stove, and so much more. You winced at the sight.

“What the hell is this?” came a gruff voice.

Your gaze drew to the doorway with a sharp intake of breath. Dean was standing in the doorway to the kitchen with a bewildered expression on his face.

The man had a thing about people in “his kitchen.” You got ready to placate him with your hands raised as you took a step towards him, but then you gasped.

“Shit!” you yelped, slipping in some egg that had dropped on the floor. Your hand accidentally banged the oven on the way down, but your head also hit the corner of the wall.   

You ended up sprawled on your side across the dirty floor, dazed and winded. Dean hurried to your side with one of those frowns that always made you want to smooth the wrinkle between his brows.

He braced your shoulder, almost but not quite touching your hip with his free hand.

“Damn. You okay? This ain’t a slip n’ slide,” he said.

Your lips twitched at a smile, but you sighed. “I’m okay.”

“You hit your head?” he asked, beginning to help you up slowly.

“A little,” you admitted. “Nothing the old bag of frozen carrots in the freezer won’t cure.”

Dean grimaced, but after he made sure you were settled on your feet, he checked the back of your head. You tried not to blush (and revel) at the feeling of his fingers slipping into your hair, even if he was trying to feel for a knot back there.

He was close enough that you could almost feel his body heat through the black shirt he wore, for once without the outer layer of plaid. He smelled like grease and sweat; likely he’d been working on Baby.

Were you weird for kind of liking that smell?

“Well, I don’t feel any goose eggs, so you’re probably fine,” he remarked.

“Thanks, House. Is that your final prognosis?” you asked, beginning to smirk.

Dean’s gaze met yours in amusement.

“Tell you what,” he said, “If you get a headache, I give you full permission to take one of the fun little pills I’ve got in my dresser.”

You laughed. “If it’s not Vicodin, I don’t want it.”

House M.D. was one of those shows you and Dean liked to watch together, along with Game of Thrones, and even Smallville, on occasion.

Dean smiled slightly. But even that was a small feat, and something you hadn’t seen from him in weeks. Not a real smile, anyway. Before today, nothing you’d tried had been working to brighten his mood.

Not pizza Fridays. Not letting him listen to the same damn Zeppelin album without complaint for that eight-hour ride on the last hunt. Not trying to gouge his level of broodiness and offering to hang out, to be a listening ear if he needed it.

He still hadn’t taken you up on the last one. While that hurt, you also understood it. You understood how Dean dealt with things he didn’t want to think about, let alone talk about, even to his own brother.  

Dean now looked down on you knowingly, gesturing at the rest of the kitchen.

“You gonna tell me what you’re doing in here?” he asked.

You crossed your arms and raised your chin, a smile playing on your lips.

“What, can’t handle somebody else in your kitchen? What’re you, Gordon Ramsey?” you teased.

Dean’s brows kicked up, his lips twitching.

“You’ve made a mess of my kitchen any number of times, but I ain’t ever smelled sweet, sweet cherry coming out of that oven,” he said. “You’re finally making me pie?”

You had to laugh. Inside, you were pleased that he now looked excited, his green eyes dancing. You clapped your hands over his arms.

“Yes, I’m making you your damn pie. Only took me fifteen tries, but it’s happening,” you said. You turned to check on it, but the second you opened the oven, black smoke billowed out.

Your eyes widened in horror and your mouth fell open on reflex, but harsh coughs tore from your throat as you waved your hand against the smoke. Dean quickly handed you the oven mitts, and you shoved them on before taking out the steaming dessert.

The entire top crust was scorched black. Cherry filling oozed out, and not in a good way. You slammed the oven shut with your hip, and you had to toss the pan onto the counter for how hot it was.

Inside that pan was a dreadful excuse for a pie.

Dean had an arm crossed under his elbow, while a hand came up to cover his mouth as he took in the state of it. He then looked over at you.

He saw the shock, settling into pursed lips and tight shoulders. You turned in slow movements.

You saw that the oven had been switched to “Broil” on the highest setting. You’d probably messed that up when you fell and hit the dial with your hand. But Christ, was that a powerful oven.

Those old white guys really didn't mess around when they built this damn bunker, you thought sourly.

Dean took another look at the steaming pie and grimaced, despite his amusement.

“Well, she won’t be entering any beauty pageants, that’s for sure,” he teased.

His playful smirk fell, however, the moment you turned around. He saw the way you were biting your lip, and the tears brimming in your eyes.

He softened, and he went to you.

“Aww, sweetheart. It’s okay,” he chuckled, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “‘S probably better than I could do.”

You rested your head against his chest and sniffled. You blinked to try to stem off your tears. 

“It’s not about the damn pie! I mean, not really. It’s just…” you trailed.

You quieted, realizing you were about to say things you’d rather not.

Dean noticed though. Because of course he did.

“Then what’s it about?” he asked.

You avoided his gaze at first, though he was too perceptive not to notice. He jostled you a little against his side.

“Huh? You wanna answer me?” he asked. His lips curved at the way you were fighting a smile yourself. Your tears won out though.

You turned under his arm and leaned up on your toes, so you could hug him. Your arms twined around his neck and you held him tight.

To say it surprised Dean would be an understatement, his eyes widening a fraction. He still held you back, almost on reflex.

“I couldn’t do anything else,” you said, through tears. “Not for you, or Sam…or for Mary.”

Dean’s confusion descended into grim understanding. A weight fell deep in his gut, clenching painfully the way it always did, when he thought about his mom.

The fact that Jack didn’t have his soul didn’t make a difference, no matter what Sam said. Not in Dean’s mind, anyway.

Jack had killed their mom.

She was gone, had been taken from them. And that second loss had torn a new chasm in Dean’s heart, deeper than the last one. He held you a bit tighter without realizing it.

“I’m sorry,” you said, rubbing his back. “I know you don’t want to talk about it. I just wanted to…to do something for you.”

Slowly, Dean pulled away a little. His hands moved to your waist as he looked down on you with a heaviness in his eyes. For a moment, he just took in the contours of your face, your eyes shining with tears that clung to your lashes. You were looking up at him like all you wanted to do was fix it. And fix him.

Well, you had to know that was a lost fucking cause. But it just didn’t stop you from staying here with him and Sam, living with them, hunting with them, being one of the last friends they had, after all these years.

It didn’t stop Dean from loving you for it, either.

He let out a breath, and he couldn’t help but raise a hand to get some of the flour off your cheek. He smoothed the back of his hand against your skin, along your jaw, and finally brushed his thumb across your lower lip, where you had worried it with your teeth.

“You’re too damn much, you know that?” he murmured.

You were blushing hot at his touch, but you frowned at his words. Until you noticed the fond glint in his eyes…and for the first time, something more. Something he was finally allowing you to see.

When he bent down and claimed your lips, your thoughts stuttered to a halt. You gripped the front of his shirt instinctively. He framed your face with his hands; they were calloused and smelled like motor oil, but you didn’t give a shit. Not one iota. Because it meant something, and your heart swelled with a warmer, brighter feeling.

You gripped his shirt tighter and leaned up to meet his second kiss. His hand moved to your lower back, pulling you flush against him. You grabbed onto his shoulders and let him invade your mouth with his warm tongue slipping against yours. You moaned, the sound echoing between you both and shooting right to his dick.

His brows furrowing, Dean’s fingers slipped into your hair again, but this time, to tangle in the strands. He walked you back until your ass hit the counter, where he grabbed hold of your thighs and hefted you on top of it, regardless of whatever stains covered its surface.

He moved in between your jean-clad thighs and encouraged you wordlessly to wrap them around his hips. You didn’t need much encouragement.

“Dean,” you whispered, between heated kisses, hands wandering down your body, exploring soft curves and warmth over clothing.

“Hmm?” he said, into your mouth. It was distracting, but you found the strength to slow things down, gently taking his face into your hands.

You both caught your breath for a moment. It allowed Dean to see the thread of uncertainty in your gaze, even though you caressed his stubble-covered cheeks.

“I just…do you…is this…” you tried, but your brain seemed to be on a short fuse. You blamed his sinful lips entirely.

Said lips drew into a smirk. Dean’s hands moved up your thighs and held your waist less gripping, more comforting (and claiming).

“I really do, and damn straight it is,” he said, slightly teasing. He did lean back in to press a gentler kiss to your lips.

“Trust me,” he said, as he became more serious. “If you want more from this…”

At that, your uncertainty melted into warmth. You released his face, holding onto his shoulders instead.

“Yeah, Dean,” you nodded. “More than anything, yes.”

He read your sincerity, and it warmed him too. Again, he gave into the urge to brush his thumb against your blushing cheek.

“I uh…I had a feeling it was always gonna be you,” he said.

You raised a brow at that, even though your smile threatened to unravel him further.

“Oh, yeah? How long?” you asked.

Dean pretended to think.

“Since that first batch of oatmeal cream pies,” he said, with a cheeky grin. “Pretty sure I was marked from there on out.”

And not just because he’d been imagining what you’d be like to taste, ever since.

You giggled, though you gestured with your eyes at the charred pan next to you on the counter.

“Guess I should try again on that pie. Wonder what that’ll get me,” you hedged, letting your thumb graze his neck. Dean smirked.

“All right, sure. Remind me to pick up a new fire extinguisher,” he said.

You guffawed and hit his shoulder, but he just laughed and pulled you in for another kiss.

It was sweet enough on its own.

AN: I know, I know. I'm a sap. 😂 Let me know what you thought of this pie-filled episode! 🥧 💕

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Dean Winchester One-Shots

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms

@foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma

@iprobablyshipit91 @melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy

@wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons

@anticxrrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk

@midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19 @agalliasi @venicesem

@chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @deansbbyx

@candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester

@chernayawidow @mimaria420 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse

[phoenixyfriend]

AU where Xanatos is "redeemed by the power of cute," but it's actually a psychological whammy caused by Obi-Wan being supernaturally adorable as a species-specific juvenile defense mechanism, and is functionally immediate brainwashing by the 13yo who doesn't know that's what he's doing.

Tbh this is mostly just Defense Mechanism that makes Xanatos harmless, but in a way everyone finds very concerning and uncomfortable because it's kind of mind control.

Someone (@dracothulhu) asked if it was related to Mimic Spider AU, and it is not! Mimic spider AU is just "ohhhh you wanna fuck me so b--PSYCH! EATING YOU."

This is more "I'm a little baby, I'm SUCH a little baby, you don't want to hurt me, you could never hurt me, I'm so adorable I'm so cute doesn't it just kill you to think about hurting me?"

Mimic spider AU is just Hot and Confident. This is straight up Mind Whammie.

@threebea also thought brood parasitism, and offered:

I'm trying to figure out a reason for the Stewjoni to have like brood parasitism where they will stick their young with other families for awhile before picking them up Used to do it to Mandoalorians all the time, and it's part of the reason the Mandalorian adopt anything stereotype got so strong. Stewjoni looking at Jedi: those seem parent shaped here you go

Which is great, except I actually started with the idea of it being kind of the inverse!

(That said, I won't actually say no to the brood parasitism option.)

Xanatos: had been about to kidnap and put him on a deep sea mine now is feeding him pudding Is it he's acting normal but doing weird things or is he suddenly talking to Obi-Wan like he's an adorable puppy

He's kind of zoned out.

Xanatos: look at him so cute Omg Obi-Wan: standing there Xanatos: kriff I don't have a camera - also from threebea

Also cuddles! Which Obi-Wan actually Does Not Want. But if he's Very Very Still then maybe Qui-Gon will find him and fix this.

Like if a tiger held and groomed you and you just were waiting Very Still for the zookeeper to distract it and/or load up the tranq.

After the days he's had he'd perhaps like a cuddle but not from this guy Lol Xanatos: so soft The effect only works on humans and near humans so it didn't work on the hutt and (can't remember the other species) on the ship

We can say it works through the Force and that's why the Hutt is immune.

"Stewjoni are targets of slavers" but specifically for illegal adoptions. It's lucrative, because most bounty hunters last about twenty seconds before they give the crying baby back where it wants to go.

And most of the immune ones get caught by planetary defense forces.

So if you CAN steal a baby, the profit margin is insane, since it's so damn hard to do, but the baby up for illegal adoption is sooooo cute.

(…this concept would be hilarious with one of those "Tor adopts baby Ben Kenobi to turn into a weapon" AUs. Still a shitty childhood bc Death Watch can justify a lot under the umbrella of Teaching Self-Defense. But interesting.)

IF YOU HAVE READ TWILIGHT: do you remember the bit about vampire babies being so cute that people would let them slaughter entire villages without a qualm?

It's like that, except Obi-Wan doesn't have dreams of mass slaughter and it only really activates as a Threat Response.

I guess the evolutionary trigger is it's kind of a paralytic You can't move far from where you stole the kid

Which is exactly right!

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

lips of an angel

pairing: married! leon x marriage counselor! reader

cw: infidelity, p in v, oral, over-usage of 'good girl', regret, leon is an asshole (like, he's really a dick), reader is also not a good person (so, hopefully it's ooc for u lol), not proofread enough

summary: leon is married to ashley (she deserves better) and he cheats on her with reader who is the marriage counselor

a/n: based on a reddit post lol. also, it's time for us to admit that lips of an angel is such a fucking good song and leon would listen to it. (imagining this is id! leon and that song came out around that time so actually it's perfect. anyway, bye)

wc: 2.7k

[edit] taglist

@rigorwhoring

@dilfprayers

@porcelainseashore

@dollita-fawn

@xoxoloveless

@admirxation

@pawrincss

@onlyasimp4-2dbitches

@pr3ttyd0llie

It starts like many horror stories do: with a knock at the door. He's tall, dark, and handsome, standing in the doorframe. Except not that dark, not very tall at all, but incredibly handsome and you've come to find over the sessions you've spent together that his looks are your weakness. His weakness is you. And many other women. Including his wife, who usually attends these sessions, but tonight, he comes alone. Maybe it's the rain that's beating down on the windows - thought it should sound like a warning - that makes you feel sympathetic enough to let him in when you know you shouldn't.

You let him sit on your couch, but make him hang up his leather jacket on the coat rack so he doesn't ruin the furniture. So you can see his biceps better. And his forearms when he rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt. The first two buttons are already undone, but that's how he always dresses. You know this because you spend too much time looking at him. What does his wife wear? Skirts? Dresses? Pantsuits? She could wear a goddamn clown costume to every session and you'd be none the wiser because you're staring at her husband like he's a piece of meat.

"Not that I'm unhappy to see you, but why are you here?" you ask him. "Your appointment isn't until Wednesday."

"I'm having marriage troubles. I thought you might be able to help."

It's in the job title: marriage counselor.

"Where's Ashley?" It's a loaded question, and the gun is pointed at your entire fucking career.

"She couldn't come. Plus, I don't think she'd like to know about these problems I'm having."

You take a deep breath, contemplating absolutely nothing because you've already made your choice. You made your choice months ago when you had your first appointment with the Kennedys.

“Remember when I said I had a history of cheating?”

“I do. Has this become a problem again?”

“Not exactly,” he says with a slight chuckle that you later find is ironic in nature. “But I’ve been having thoughts…”

“Are these thoughts sexual?”

“Very.”

“Have you tried taking care of it yourself?” You make a hand gesture to signal ‘if you know what I mean’ and pray he knows what you mean so you don’t have to say the words ‘jerk off’ explicitly.

“Yes, but it hasn’t worked.” He looks directly into your eyes when he says it.

"Are these thoughts about a specific person?"

"Yes." 

His answers, which are limited to only a few words at a time, make you feel like you're shaking up a magic 8 ball, and the blue goop reveals a die that has little to say beyond 'It is certain', 'My sources say no', and 'Try again later'. 

“Is there a way you could distance yourself from this person so you don’t have any potential ‘slip ups’?” you ask.

“Sure, but I’d have to stop counseling if I did.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Kennedy-”

“Leon.”

“Right. Leon, I’m not trying to be presumptuous, but are you insinuating that these thoughts are about me?”

“That they are.” His smile gives you a golden star-shaped sticker for guessing correctly.

You give him a scowl. "I'll set you up with a new therapist, then."

“Let me ask you something,” he says, leaning forward, staring right into your soul. “Are you attracted to me too?”

“I’m not comfortable answering-”

“That’s not a ‘no’. Is it?”

You try to wipe the look of shock arousal off your face.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to admit it. I remember you asking a lot of questions about my sex life, especially the parts that don’t involve my wife, and getting visibly flustered when I answered them.”

“Of course I asked questions like that. I’m a therapist. It’s what I do. I’m sorry if you-” 

You should ask him to leave, separate yourself before you explode in frustration. Getting defensive is not a healthy way to argue. You know this. You've told him this.

“If I remember correctly you asked me about how I touch myself, when I do it, if I watch anything.” He doesn't wait for a response from you, but it wouldn't have come anyway. “And, the whole time you were sitting there chewing on your pen, pretending not to imagine it. And then writing it down in a hurry, making sure you got down every little detail.” He taps on your pad of paper.

“Can I see this for a moment?” He snags it from the table beside you and flips through the pages. Without thinking, you leap forward and try to snatch it from him, falling into his lap.

The embarrassing part is when he lifts you off of him. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“It’s highly confidential!”

“Mr and Mrs. Kennedy,” he begins to read imitating your voice.

“Enough.” You use your sternest voice with him - which is far from stern.

“It says right here that Mr. Kennedy is 'a total dick’ but ‘totally fuckable’.”

“It does not!”

“You’re right. It doesn’t. But you were thinking it. Weren’t you?” He looks up with a smile on his face that’s both charming and cruel.

"I'm not playing whatever game you're trying to play with me right now, Leon."

It's the devil's edition of 20 questions, it seems.

He flips the pad closed, and says, “I’ll leave right now if you answer one question truthfully.”

“Fine," you huff, snatching the pad of paper and stashing it out of his reach.

“Did you go home and touch yourself while thinking about me?”

You shake your head vehemently. "No. Absolutely not."

“You couldn’t even make it home, huh? You did it right here, didn’t you?”

You don't have to answer - the look on your face gives it away.

“Was it on the couch? Right where I was sitting? Where I'm sitting right now."

“Fine. You win, you got it right. Are you happy now?” You concede because you want to end this conversation as quickly as possible, so you can go hide your face and die. 

You want him to fuck you within an inch of your life and then you'll die happily. La petite mort? That's what they call it, right? You want that.

Leon just hums in response, giving you no insight into his thoughts. Though it doesn't take a therapist to guess that he's mentally fucking you. To your surprise, he slaps his hands on his thighs and stands up.

When he gets to the door, you say, “Wait-”

“What?” He asks, nonchalant to such a degree that one might believe the events of the previous few minutes never transpired at all.

“What are you doing?”

“Leaving. Like I said I would.”

“You’re just gonna leave? Do you get off on embarrassing people? Is that it?”

“No. I get off to you, and you know that." He's oddly defensive despite having the upper hand. "I also know that a large part of you despises me, but it’s because there’s a part of you that wants to fuck me.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He shrugs. “You’re the therapist, not me.”

“I’m telling your wife.”

“You’re going to tattle on me?" He laughs. “That wouldn’t be very HIPAA-compliant of you, would it?”

“Why are you doing this?" It feels like a nightmare that you can't escape where a terrifying shadowy figure is chasing you while you're screaming out for help and no one's listening. Except, this is more horrific due to the fact that you like it. Your thoughts about the man in front of you are downright depraved. You are both the monster, mirrors of each other. 

"I thought you wanted to fix your marriage," you say.

“My wife wants to fix our marriage. You and I both know it’s doomed. But you’re not allowed to say that, are you?”

You shouldn't be saying half the things you are right now, but it's too late to turn back now. You are the sunk cost. And the ship that was the concept of 'fixing Leon's marriage' has already sailed.

“You want the truth? I’ve known since the moment you opened your mouth that your marriage was done.”

“Then why did you keep having sessions? Was it for the money?” He pauses. “I doubt it. You’re a good therapist. You could get other clients. There was another reason. And, we both know what that reason is, but I won’t make you say it. I’m not that mean.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“And that’s what you like most about me.”

“It is not.”

“Then what is it?”

“Fuck you!”

“Do you want to? I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“Convince me.”

“Haven’t I already?”

“No.”

“Then why are you asking me to convince you instead of telling me to fuck off? You just want me to come up with a reason that doesn’t make you feel bad about doing it.”

“And there isn’t one.”

“No, there isn’t," he says with a bit of pity, knowing he's dragging you down into the second circle of Hell with him.

“You have to swear to tell your wife.”

“Is that a yes?”

He did not swear to tell his wife, but Leon is a cheater and a liar already. If he swore to tell his wife, you'd only be an idiot to believe him. 

“Lock the door.”

He turns around and flicks the lock. “Done.”

You stand up and his mouth is on yours. He’s the best kisser. Silver-tongued, you should've known it. You can fucking taste it too. Metallic. No, that's blood. You bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

You’re the one who starts undressing him first but he doesn’t make fun of you. He helps you out of your top instead.

“Goddamn you have perfect tits. It’s a shame you always keep ‘em hidden.”

“It’s a professional environment.”

“Yeah, it’s so professional that you fuck your clients in it.”

“I’ve never done this before.”

"Don't worry. You’re not the first therapist I’ve fucked. I’ll lead.” Leon lays you down on the couch  - roughly, but cradling your head so you don’t knock it on anything. 

You gasp. "Leon, the couch is damp from your wet clothes," you whine.

"I promise it'll be soaked by the time I leave."

Before you can open your mouth, he’s kissing down your chest, making his way to your panties. His tongue is good at more than just talking. He has you unraveling within minutes, moaning obscenely.

“As much as love your pretty moans, baby, we’ve gotta be quiet. Don’t want you to get fired.”

“I deserve it.”

“No, you don’t. You’re a good therapist, and a good girl.”

“You think I’m a good girl?”

“So good. And you taste amazing.” He places a kiss on your clit and you nearly cry, having forgotten the feeling of his tongue in the mere seconds you spent without it. “I want you to come in my mouth.” He sucks on your clit until you do.

Leon's lips are dark and puffy when they meet yours - the ones on your face. He asks, “How did you imagine us doing it?”.

“Mostly me on top of you.”

“It’s a good idea, isn’t it?” he says, placing featherlight kisses from your jaw down your neck.

You shake your head. “None of this is.”

“I know. You've got morals. You’re a good girl.” He pauses before whispering into the shell of your ear, “That’s why you deserve to have me however you want me.”

His right hand is busy holding you steady so he fingers you with his left. You watch as his wedding band slips in and out of your pussy along with his middle finger, giving a double fuck you to his wife with each movement.

He seems fascinated by the squelching sounds, no longer focused on getting his dick inside you. The heavy rain outside covers up some of the noise but not enough to save you the embarrassment.

"Jesus. Just fuck me already." You try desperately to avoid sounding desperate, praying he takes your irritation at face value.

But you're too obvious, you wear your sick, sick heart on your sleeve. 

"You want my dick that bad and you haven't even seen it yet."

"I hope it's as big as your ego."

"No you don't. That'd be painful, medically concerning probably."

You want to laugh because he manages to be funny and charming as hell despite being an absolute dick, but that fact makes you hate him more. And the blood that courses through you has nowhere to go but south.

All the while, his fingers refuse to leave your aching center. "Leon," you whine, pushing his hand away, "you're gonna make me cum again."

"I know," he purrs. "I wanna make up for all the months you've spent here by yourself, with your fingers inside you instead of mine."

"I was pretending they were yours." There's no point in saving the confession anymore.

"I'm sure you were, but I've got somethin' better for you, baby."

And, abruptly, he removes his fingers. You watch him unbuckle his belt, and despite this being your fantasy, you look at him like he's betrayed you.

"What?" he says, coyly, "I thought you wanted this."

"I do, but I was about to cum, and you just took your fingers away. You're such an asshole!" You pout like a bratty child.

"Yeah, I know I am," he says - his words are muffled by the square packet he tears with his teeth. He slides on the rubber barrier before he picks you up and sits you down on his cock, disregarding the obscene noises you make as he shoves himself inside you all at once.

You're wet but there's a stretch. His dick is big, maybe not as big as his ego, but bigger than any you've taken before. This is how he gets away with it, you think.

"Fuck, you're tight," he groans. His hands have an iron grip on your hips. "You've gotta learn to loosen up and relax. You're too high strung. This is probably good for you."

It's not, you'll find when the orgasm wears off, but right now it feels really fucking good.

His thumb circles your clit while you bounce up and down, working well in tandem. Ironic, as you've made so little progress in your weekly sessions. As expected, the dual stimulation makes you slick with arousal, opening you up for him.

His voice sounds distant, droned out by your own moans which get even louder as his words get filthier. "Bet all your advice didn't work 'cause your brain was all fuzzy thinking about what my cock would feel like inside you. Or maybe you did it on purpose 'cause you wanted me all to yourself."

"No… n-no-" you say, voice trembling just as your thighs do.

"S'okay, baby. Girls with messy pussies like you can't help it. Just need to get some dick in you and then you can go back to being a good girl."

Can you? Maybe you can a 'good girl' in the bedroom, but a morally-upstanding woman? Even in your own eyes, he's corrupted you.

Still, you call out for him, "Leon," you cry, the singular syllable drawn out. You are lucky that the thunder from the storm is louder than your voice could ever be.

"I know," he says, "I'm close too."

The way your walls squeeze him when you cum drags his own orgasm from him. 

You are oddly dissatisfied at the fact that he spills into the condom, not into you. It feels so impersonal. Because it is. It doesn't escape you that he didn't say your name - not even a pet name - just a simple 'fuck' when he came.

You point him in the direction of the trashcan where he can throw away the physical evidence of the mess you've made.

His pants are back on in a second while you remain naked on the couch.

"Where are you going?"

"Home," he says. "Ashley's making dinner. Don't wanna keep her waiting."

"You're gonna go home to her?" you say, more disappointed than surprised.

"Yeah. What did you think I was going to do?"

Truly, you weren't thinking. If you were, you would not have had sex with Leon. 

"I'm surprised you're not happy. I'm gonna go spend some quality time with my wife. That was your advice - wasn't it?"

"Yeah, but-"

"But what? You're our marriage counselor. I'm just trying to fix my marriage."

"You're doing an awful job."

"I know," he says, with his hand on the doorknob. "See you on Wednesday."

[veren-cos]

Hello! If your requests are still open I would like to ask for your headcanons on a specific scenario.

The farmer came back from the mines in a really bad shape. They had to go to the hospital to get multiple surgeries and now how to stay in bed for a while.

How would the stardew bachelors react to their spouse getting hurt so badly and how would they help them with chores and recovery?

My requests are always open!! They just take me a while to get through depending on motivation, inspiration, and just time to write lol. Basically, as long as I don't respond to an ask saying I cant/won't write it, it will get written. Now onto the fic!!

(No trigger warnings. Reader is hurt, yes, but there are no in detail descriptions)

Sam

• He passes put when he sees you.

• He lived relatively close to the clinic so I imagine he got there pretty fast after he heard what had happened.

• So he saw you pretty beat up.

• Once you were finally awake, he pulled you into a big hug. Which proceeded to make everything hurt worse as you were still bruised and healing.

• You let out a yelp and then Sam jumped off of you and nearly started crying from how much he was apologizing.

• He ended up having to be taken out of the room by Maru while Harvey talked to you.

• Sam helped you get home, but you better believe you aren't doing *anything* on your farm until you're fully healed.

• Sam was prepared to full on quit his job to take over your farm until you were healed.

• You had to convince him not to do that, so he just ended up taking less hours (which you still didn't like, but you appreciated his effort and sentiment)

• Once you were finally healed enough for him to hug you and give you cuddles, that man was not letting go of your for *days*.

Sebastian

• Sebastian would not know what to do.

• He never thought that he would have someone this important to him, and now you look damn near dead.

• He emotionally shut down for a long time after seeing you.

• But once Maru talked some sense into him outside of the clinic room, he was just so worried.

• He knew he wouldn't be able to fully take care of your farm, but he did basically live in with you.

• He works from home, so he just moved his work to *your* home.

• He cooked for you a lot. It started out with a lot of instant noodles, but he eventually broke out of that and made you other food.

• He wouldn't smother you, but he wanted you to know he would be there if you needed anything.

• He took great care of your animals, and made sure the weeds on your farm were taken care of.

• Unfortunately, he wasn't able to keep up with your crops. So you ended up loosing a season.

• But Sebastian being there with you made it so much better than rotting by yourself.

Alex

• Oh Alex would be pissed.

• He doesn't go on the mines. He could handle it, but he knows that it's dangerous and doesn't want to mess with it.

• But if he saw you all fucked up from the mines?

• Oh he would be pissed.

• Maru and Harvey would have to hold him back from going in the mines to beat up whatever hurt you.

• But when you woke up, Alex completely forgot about going down there, and rushed straight to your side.

• He was with you like a lost puppy.

• Alex only works in the summer, so even in the summer, Alex could completely take care of your farm.

• Like Sebastian, Alex basically moves in with you while you heal.

• Random, but the thing he found he liked the most about his time while you were healing was helping you shower. He thought it was a very domestic and cute moment. (Alex loves the little domestic moments and I will die on that hill. Same with Sam-)

• He would smother you compared to the other Bachelors, but he just doesn't want to see you get worse.

Harvey

• He sees it the worst.

• Like with the other Bachelor's, you're still in bad condition. But Harvey sees the raw injuries. And he has to be the one to operate.

• He nearly breaks down but after maru talking some sense into him, he pulls himself together.

• But after operating, he just falls apart.

• Breaks down crying, not leaving your side until you wake up.

• He is so worried. Yes, he is confident in his work.

• But if you don't wake up. You. Harvey would never forgive himself.

• So when you finally do wake up, he is all over you.

• Like. For weeks. He won't let you do *any* farm work. He tries to pull double time as doctor and farmer to fill in for you.

• So he crashes a burns.

• Eventually he ends up enlisting the help of the town to watch you and do some farm work until you're back on your feet.

Shane

• He froze when he saw you laying clinics bed.

• Like just stood there. It took so long to register that you were *that* hurt.

• When Harvey told him you'd be on bed rest for at least 2 weeks, he blanked out.

• The most important part was getting you home and better. Shane could deal with the farm, but there was no way in hell you were getting up once.

• He nearly fell back into a depressive episode because of all of the stress, but now he had you. He was learning to rely on Marney more.

• So Shane took care of the animals. He tried to keep up with the farm itself, but it was too much.

• He still had his job at Joja, so there was only so much he could do.

• He moved a mini cooler onto a nightstand by your bed, so you never had to get up for food or drinks.

• He watched movies with you a lot, and once you felt good enough, gave you a lot of cuddles.

• He tried to put on a brave face, but he was worried for you. He didn't think he was going enough, but Shane didn't know what else he *could* do.

• All in all, he tried his best. Nothing would go wrong with him taking care of you, but there would be a lot of work for you once you completely recovered.

Elliott

• He was utterly heartbroken

• It felt like a piece of him got bruised and broken along with you.

• Elliott isn't very strong, so while he can help with the animals, the farm is staying still.

• He reads poetry to you every night. It becomes a nice habbit even after you are healed.

• He is there for you emotionally. Get that hurt is very traumatic, and he just wants to be there for you.

• He makes sure to take care of you until you can take care of yourself again.

• But even after, he still would want to take care of you <3

Hope Y'all liked it, have a nice day!!

Masterlist

[kisseobie]

OH AND-idk if you’ve received a request abt this before but I’ll take my chance, piwon with an s/o who has nipples or a tongue piercing 🤭

- 🪼 anon

p1harmony with a s/o who has specific piercings

pairings: ot6 p1harmony x reader

genre: nsfw (mdni)

a/n: hii 🪼 anon! thank u so much for this request.. i have always wanted these types of piercings so this was fun to think abt :P i hope it’s okay that i included more than just the piercings u mentioned, i wanted some variety and couldn’t help myself lol

*ੈ keeho

kyo would beggggg you to get a clit piercing. kind of alludes to how hot it would be but he’s mostly just teasing—he doesn’t mind if you shoot down his jokes about it because at the end of the day it’s your body. when you do surprise him with one, probably getting it done when he’s touring so it has some time to heal, he’s dropping to his knees quicker than he’s ever done before, ready to eat you whole and gauge what reactions the heightened sensitivity from the jewel will get out of you. i can see him kissing your clit, right atop the pretty piercing, then replacing his lips with his tongue… would make a “v” shape with his fingers on your cunt just to spread you out so he can fully devour the view. taps the tip of his cock against the stud, and gets addicted to the mix of pain and pleasure when it slightly sinks into the slit of his cockhead .. buys you jewelry every now and then and makes you model it for him… yum

*ੈ theo

taeyang might be a mood maker, but he’s still very shy in nature, so i don’t think he’d ever express his desires for your nipples to be pierced directly to you, but he’s definitely fantasized about it. he might have drunkenly mentioned his little fantasy to one of his members late at night, when he’s assumed you’ve passed out on his thigh, when in reality, you were fully awake… if you surprise him in the future by flashing him, he’s immediately grabbing you by the waist with a crazed look in his eyes. lovesss pinching your buds and sucking at them whilst making eye contact with you, in fact i don’t think there’s anything he loves more. if you mix and match the color of your nipple jewelry with your lingerie sets, trust and believe he’s fucking your boobs and spilling all over them :P oh and he loves helping you switch and pick out your jewelry .. praises you all the time with words like “got your tits all dolled up for me, angel? you’re driving me crazy.”

*ੈ jiung

i’ve mentioned before that this man is a sucker for blowjobs, and if you get a tongue piercing and give him head? he’s losing his fucking mind.. would get all rough with it, standing up and slapping his cockhead against your tongue—decorated with a little bud of metal that he oh so adores. jiung would whine out from the added stimulation of your tongue piercing, especially when it would drag over the prominent vein etched on his shaft. would have you on your knees with your tongue stuck out as he fucks into his fist, making sure that when he comes, he paints your tongue, and your little stud, white :3 he’s soooo nasty with it… would probably think about getting a tongue piercing as well, especially after feeling how yours feels against his dick.. i feel like ji is such an experimentalist so he’d wanna know how a tongue piercing would make you feel … woah guys jiung tongue piercing WHEN?

*ੈ intak

intak is a simple man at heart, so he doesn’t need you to have any fancy piercings for him to get riled up. just a typical nostril hoop or loaded ears are enough for him to feel like the luckiest man on earth.. is always telling you how badass you are, it’s actually very endearing. ooh but if you do want to catch him completely off guard .. getting his name tattooed in traditional cursive lettering, with a single dermal stud on the “i” in his name, would bring a possessive side out of intak like you’ve never seen before. he’d probably spend many mornings admiring your piercings whilst watch you sleep, would definitely kiss the jewelry and help you clean the pierced skin with saline solution. doesn’t particularly want piercings of his own, but he’d buy those fake ones, matching yours just to surprise you one day (he’d be giggling because he thought he looked ridiculous, but would be pleasantly surprised of you pounced on him and found the potential piercings sexy) :D

*ੈ soul

any dermal or facial piercings would fuck shota up for sure. back dermals or angel bites, he doesn’t really care exactly what you opt to get.. he just loves to see his girlfriend pierced up tbh. imagining you with back dermals though.. i think soulie would be so amazed at how brave you would be to get them, as they are known as being pretty painful piercings. would accompany you to your appointment and hold your hand so sweetly throughout the entire process, and then he’d take you home and fuck you from the back so he’d have the perfect view of the new jewelry. once you’re all healed up, he’s definitely making excuses to cum on your back when you in fact know he’s just obsessed with coming on top of the studs <33 and if you have facial piercings? he’s kissing them as he pounds into your heat, making out with you impossibly close and hissing at the way the jewelry pokes at his soft skin. like jiung, he might even try to get matching piercings with you :3

*ੈ jongseob

get your belly button pierced and jongseob is fucking you into next week. his emo self would be so stoked if his girlfriend decided to get her belly button pierced. loves you and your crop tops already, but he doesn’t realize until you’ve been pierced just how much he loves the sight of your tummy out and about, especially now that it’s been decorated with a little pink heart charm. finds it so cute and so sexy, would definitely pull you into him and wrap his hands around your waist, thumbs etching little circles into your skin and getting dangerously close to the piercing.. oh and i can’t write jongseob without mentioning his love for photography. can you imagine getting your button pierced and seobie taking polaroid pictures of you on his bed, topless and only wearing some skimpy panties.. ugh and he loves looking at how ur tummy bulges when he’s fucking into you, the piercing being the cherry on top.. oh i’m gonna faint

taglist: @woozixo @hearts4chanhee @kyokopi @astro-doll-the-star @soobiary @kyaaramello @t3ssamoodboard @angelcbf @idontknow-1s-world @vivienne-sim @elissasimp @imjustayapper @ihatewreckingballmains @sosaverse @seobing @www90kitsch @khfviq @barbiekh86t @bbyjjunie @taeyangi @fullsunstrawberry @jihnyah @intheemptymirror @watamotee33 @dreamer1299 @jixnnsie @wonootnoot @yukx-x047 @sundancearchives @chuuswifereal @seisyiss @fishsquishh @sunnyyangie @asianpenguin04

© kisseobie, please do not repost my writing!

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[qu1cks1lversb1tch]

Hello! Love your writing, so yummy. I was wondering if you would take a request? I was thinking what it would be like if Lucifer was dating a fem reader who was a fox sinner and she randomly does animal like things. I think he would be so interested in the ear and tail movement and would try to see what different things cause what reactions. Foxes are very wary so I could see her jumping easily and him taking advantage of that lol 😭. Then, if he would see her like "pounce" on Angel as a prank cause they're besties. Lastly, I just know if he heard her growl, his knees would get weak (imagine them having a growling fight for some reason cause he growled at Alastor that one time 🤣💀). Anyway, I'm dragging this on, so have writing this if you do! I'd appreciate it! *mwah*

A/N— Just when I think the requests can't get any better, another wonderful anon pops up to steal the show. I LOVE THIS so much. This is more or less a small compilation 💅🏻🦋 I had to do a little research for this one, but I think it's so silly 😭💖 I hope you have a wonderful weekend anon!

Animalistic | Lucifer x Fem Fox Sinner!Reader

Warnings: Reader is a common Red Fox Sinner, swearing (I mean, seriously — it's Hazbin 🤣), Reader being a menace to society

Word Count: 696

Summary: More often than not, your animalistic behaviors take over. . .

Lucifer watched you from afar — not in a creepy way, but in a ‘that's my girlfriend and I'm admiring her’ kind of way.

Right then, he was watching you wallow on the couch that had been placed in the lounge specifically for you, by Charlie, because you refused to sit on a piece of furniture that had the scent of the Radio Demon practically rolling off of it in waves. 

So the fucker went and sat on your couch.

The audacity. 

You were pretty pissed at the moment, which was evident by the growling and angry mumbling that became louder at times. 

He only caught a couple pieces of dialogue, like: ‘no fuckin’ respect for BOUNDARIES!’ And: ‘I ought ‘ta shit in that fuckers shoes!’ 

But it was enough to keep him attempting to hold in his laughter, which he ultimately failed in. 

You quit wallowing in attempts to get your scent to return back to the couch the moment you heard a noise. You jumped, one ear twitching while your tail lifted into something resembling a ‘u’ shape, showing you were now on high alert. 

The moment you caught a whiff of your boyfriend, you turned to face him. He was biting his bottom lip so hard to keep from laughing. 

You could only roll your eyes and stand from the couch, fixing your hair as you trotted over to hug him. “Better not be laughing at me.” You whined. 

“Your words, not you. Never you.” He replied, holding you close as you went about rubbing your scent on him as well. Just so no one would get any ideas. 

You were watching. Waiting. 

Your tail was swishing at your side in a playful manner, just waiting for Angel Dust to walk past the dark hallway like he did every evening before bed. 

The moment his footsteps could be heard, you were prepared to launch out of the darkness — something you hadn't done in months. 

He came into your line of sight and it was go time. 

Launching out of the darkness, you easily tackled your best friend, the two of you tumbling until you landed on top, pinning two of his arms to the floor with your sharp canines on display as you grinned down at him. 

“Gotcha!” You cheered happily, your tail swishing from side to side.

“First off, ouch, that fuckin’ hurt — secondly, why the fuck can't you ever attack the short king with your midnight zoomies?”

“He's almost always asleep at this time.” You pouted removing your hands from his arms, nipping at his hand when he went to pet your ears. 

“I dare you to wake him up next time.”

You grinned, getting off completely to help him up. Oh, you would.

Charlie approved of the relationship between you and her dad, but that didn't mean that she didn't witness some odd things whenever he decided to stay for dinner. . .

She could ignore you pouncing on him at random because you pounced on everyone except Alastor. 

She could also ignore him helping you hide snacks for later because she knew that a good snack didn't last long in the hotel. 

But it was harder to ignore you biting, growling, and scratching at Lucifer, laying on your back in his lap on your couch, with him growling playfully and running his fingers through your hair. 

It was cute in a way — her dad embracing the form you were given, and you, eager to play almost constantly. . . Except for when you were nervous or felt threatened by another demon higher on the food chain.

Though one look told her that he had hearts in his eyes. 

And you did too. Even when your sharp teeth finally latched onto his arm and you gently shook your head before releasing and bursting out into a fit of giggles that had Lucifer quit growling, instead leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead.

He smirked when your ears twitched and eyes crossed at the sign of affection. 

You growled in return, playfully nipping at his hand with a noise somewhere between a very fox scream and a whine. 

But it was all in fun.

[vaguely-concerned]

Ever since watching The Wire for the first time, my brain has doggedly kept working away at the Especially the lies of it all, and specifically at how much the structure beneath the different stories Garak tells contributes to the overall meaning of what he’s trying to say. While the contradicting narratives of course expertly obscure the factual circumstances of his getting exiled, using them also allows him to tell aspects and facets of the emotional truth I don’t think he ever could have, if he’d simply told the actual story of what happened. (It’s very Varric-core of him honestly.)

The first story — the ‘oh, you think you know me?’ story — says I have done things that would sicken you if you knew any detail of it. It’s clearly meant to scare Bashir away so he’ll leave him to die shamefully in peace already lol. But it’s also one of his (probably much-needed lbr) little lessons to Julian that are so frequent in the beginning, given while Garak still has some hold on himself — “Don’t be so quick to forgive me if you don’t even know what I’ve done; what would you do if this really were the sum total of what I am?” (And Julian seems to surprise him by going ‘Well, exactly the same thing, because no matter who you are I am a doctor. But I sort of take your point.’)

The second story — the letting the orphans go story — says I have failed to smother my soul in its cradle when it was required of me, and I regret that more than anything I’ve done. To my ears this is the one most shot through with active self-loathing too, which is interesting. He’s officially lost the control he’s been clinging to and it’s about to get ugly. His TL;DR is ‘Sentiment is the greatest weakness of all’, even all the way back here. (Which is the one lesson Julian steadfastly refuses to learn, which I think in turn does some serious rearrangement of Garak’s soul over the course of the show haha. Get uno reversed into the process of loving and being loved without shame asshole.)  This is also where he builds up to admitting to having any sort of need for companionship or closeness at all and — so much worse — that Julian’s role in his life actually has fulfilled some of that need, and he’s DRIPPING with defensive venom over it b/c well I get it Garak vulnerability is scary it can take a person like that. 

(I also feel there’s something honest and forbidden in ‘Suddenly the whole exercise seemed utterly meaningless’. I suspect ‘actually… why the fuck are we even doing this???’ is not a welcome sentiment in an Obsidian Order water cooler environment, no matter what you’re saying it about lmao. The very first seeds of him deconstructing the things he’s been taught about Cardassia and his work might be hinted at here, though they of course take a looong time to come to any real fruition.)   

The third story — the ‘Elim was my best friend’ story — says hey, remember that thing you said once, about how sometimes, you have to be loyal to yourself before you can be loyal to anything else? Well. guess what. I couldn’t even be that lmao. It also furthers that thread of being divided from yourself, split, that having ‘Elim’ as a separate person around in all versions of the story brings in. He’s in control of himself again, but he essentially hands his life and soul over to Julian to decide what should be done with them. 

I’ve done horrible things and it finally caught up with me, I’m getting what I deserve → I let sentiment master me and the fact that I’m too weak to do what’s needed of me shames me more than the evil I’ve done → I fucked up. I betrayed myself and everything I held to, all for nothing, and I have no one to blame for it but myself. But it’s very nice that you’re here anyway, Doctor. (Wow. I didn’t realize quite how isolated and lonely that last one was before right now. The way Tain has shaped him really has just… locked him completely into himself, huh.) We can also see a movement through from a completely professional context in the first story, to an intensely interpersonal and internal context in the last one — even his fake stories spiral in towards intimacy, which I think is what he longs for here even if he can’t quite like. Touch that without the stories as a buffer yet, it’s clearly like touching a hot stove for him to interact with it too directly. 

And you know what I find incredibly interesting the whole way through? Even on his deathbed, where he’s dying from the thing Tain had put in his head, he’s protecting Tain. He puts all the blame for where he is on himself (‘My future was limitless, until I threw it away’), even if he has to employ a strange twisty logic where he’s split himself into two to do it. Don’t get me wrong, Garak has done horrific things all on his own haha, but it’s notable that he almost isolates Tain from that. ‘Tain was the Obsidian Order. Not even the Central Command dared challenge him. And I was his right hand.’ Tain in Garak’s stories is this infallible implacable weirdly distant figure, even now. Indeed, as will make a lot of sense with the revelations further down the line, more than anything it seems the gaze of an abused child desperate for recognition looking up at an idealized (if not in any way nurturing) parent.‘He was retired at that point; he couldn't protect me’, Garak says, as if what he’d need protection from in the first place isn’t Tain himself lmao, as if Tain had no active part in any of this. He never lets blame touch Tain at all. At this stage he would rather consider himself a broken flawed tool than accept that the hands that have wrought and wielded him have ever had any fault in them. AND in the middle of it all, with plausible deniability, on death’s door and knocking meekly to be let in before he must finish the mortifying ordeal of being known and test the even more daunting possibility of being loved, Garak at the same time manages to drop the breadcrumb trail of clues to make it possible for Julian to find Tain if he so chooses and gets in the ‘sons of Tain’ thing too for future dramatic irony purposes. Truly he is the Michelangelo of lying. Every falsehood a multifaceted masterpiece. Elim ‘achieving a state of intertextuality in real life is possible if you work hard and believe in yourself’ Garak. I love him so much. 

I think all of this is why “I forgive you. For whatever it is you did,” works so well, because it too works on a structural level. It’s such a deceptively multilayered response — it has the syntax of a joke, in a way, and it is kind of funny even under the circumstances, but delivered with such earnest warmth and fondness. It’s both recognition and acceptance (forgiveness!). It’s saying ‘I finally understand enough of what you’re trying to tell me beneath and through all that, in whatever way you’re capable of, I see you’ and ‘my answer hasn’t changed (bitch)’. The forgiveness Julian offers here is complete — on principle, and out of personal feeling and empathy (only one of which Garak deigns to respond to during the second story, where he calls it ‘smug Federation sympathy’, placing it more completely on the principle side than it probably is. ‘Dude you’re my friend please don’t just lie down and die in a completely avoidable way on me, who else is going to not only tolerate but actually gleefully enjoy me being annoying as fuck over lunch’ seems to be the subtext that’s a lot harder to acknowledge and invite in for both of them. And yet Tain seems perfectly clear on the fact that Julian is Garak’s friend, which, y’know. Must be fun living with the knowledge that Tain has eyes everywhere looming over you every day haha guess you’d just have to tune that out.) 

Most of all — ’Don’t give up on me now, Doctor’... and he didn’t! He didn’t. Augh. Ow.

[okthatsgreat]

rewording a post i made a while ago just bc it was a bit nonsensical but something that definitely needs to be examined in the danganronpa fandom is how a lot of characters seem to be interpreted through one single lens of intelligence. does that make sense. like in order for a character to be “smart” in this fandom they SPECIFICALLY need to be book smart and well spoken, regardless of their talents. we gotta shape up guys .. examining other types of intelligence is FASCINATING and really highlights each characters strengths and weaknesses, and this especially applies to emotional intelligence.

like is byakuya smart? absolutely. but is he emotionally intelligent? fuck no!!!! and aoi used that against him in chapter four!!!!!!!! and even though she is misguided as all hell, tenko has the ability to understand her opponent mid-battle and use that to determine how she continues the fight (likely something other fighting ultimates do as well!!!) which is crazy. mikan is able to read facial expressions well, even if she IMMEDIATELY misinterprets this as something she personally did wrong lol. these characters navigate through the killing game differently and in some cases survive because of it, and if you want something interesting to write on it’s definitely something to be examined!!!

also straight up sometimes the fandom interprets characters who don’t speak super formally/are optimistic as dumb too which is so strange. more of the “buff” talents like mondo and fuyuhiko need to understand battle tactics and serious team management/planning in order to get anywhere in their field, but are pushed aside quite a bit because theyre these super gruff macho characters that swear a bunch. sonia as well because she's a fish out of water type of character. and yes he isn’t very well spoken and is very trusting but gonta is an actual scientist guys… i could make a whole separate post about this weird trend of pessimism being seen as smart and optimism as stupid but yeah seriously

anyways all this to say, when writing for a “dumb” character take a step back and ask just what makes them dumb in your eyes. is it because they aren’t considered academic or a scholar?? is it because they’re a “happier” character that might not be as well-spoken?? theres nuance there and this obviously doesn't apply to all of them, like clearly akane isnt super good with emotions or smarts in general, but even THEN her spacial awareness and heightened sense of perception is something that is often under-utilised in fics!! it provides a whole lot of depth to remember that a lot of danganronpa characters are very talented and well versed in other forms of intelligence than what might be most obvious !!!!!

[twink-between-worlds]

when the sun loves the moon

this ravioli fic is brought 2 u by chappell roan's "Hot To Go". the ao3 writer curse hit us btw. our hand is broken lol. this is so fucking long i dont know what happened it was supposed to be short.....

ao3 link; x

Legend hums, messing with the bracelet around his wrist. Not Ravio’s one—that one is far too thick for him to be able to fiddle with it easily—but a different, smaller one on the other wrist.

The second one—the one he’s playing with—is much smaller and simpler. It’s made of black rope, and has a small golden charm attached to it in the shape of a sun.

Ravio brought it back from Lorule after one of his visits. There was a moon-shaped one, too, but Ravio has that one. Legend doesn’t mind. He thinks the sun-bracelet is pretty.

He doesn’t really know why Ravio gave it to him, though. He just kind of showed up back home, gave Legend the bracelet, and never talked about it. It was a little weird, but this is Ravio. There is nothing about that man that isn’t weird.

That thought is nothing but fond.

He kinda misses him. He always does. Doesn’t matter how many times he’s had to travel and leave Ravio behind—he always misses him.

Deep down somewhere inside his chest is a part of him that’s scared that Ravio will be gone by the time he comes back.

He does his best to ignore it. Ravio wouldn’t leave without telling him—he knows that much.

“Your bracelet’s pretty,”Hyrule hums quietly, watching the veteran mess with it as they walk. “Where’d you get it?”

“Oh, uh. It was a gift.”Legend explains with a shrug. “Ravio brought it back from Lorule. He’s got the other one.”

“Other one?”

“It came in a set. The other one’s got a moon on it.”

“You and Ravio have fucking couple bracelets?”Four pipes up, and Legend goes a little quiet. A couple bracelet? No way, they’re not even together. Ravio doesn’t like Legend that way, and Legend doesn’t like Ravio that way either.

Or, well, he doesn’t think he does? It’s a little confusing and Legend doesn’t have time to unpack all that. He’ll probably never have the time to unpack that mess. It’s the emotional equivalent of moving all the things from his storage-shed around—lots of effort and very messy, best to just not do.

So he shakes his head with a snort. “No, Four, that’s not what they are. Rav’s literally just my roommate.”

Four doesn’t look convinced in the slightest. Honestly, Legend can’t even find it in him to be annoyed about that. He knows he and Ravio are a little weird, to the point that even his own sister thought they were dating for a while.

He wants to say she was just being hopeful and that she didn’t seriously think that he and Ravio were together.

“Don’t look at me like that,”Legend rolls his eyes. “It’s just a bracelet, Four. Nothing special.”

Four just snorts at him. “Sure.”

He decides that he isn’t going to respond to Four anymore. Why should he? Four’s just being dumb anyways.

“Why a sun?”Hyrule tilts his head, curious. 

“I think Rav just gave me this one cause the charm is gold. The moon one is silver.”Legend shrugs. He never gets explanations as to why Ravio does things, and the reasoning behind the specifics of the bracelet is no exception, so really he’s just guessing.

The healer nods along with the explanation. Pauses for a second, then, “How long’ve you been friends for?”

Wonderful question—Legend doesn’t know. He can’t remember when he’d started welcoming the other man’s presence, when he stopped getting annoyed by the other being there. He doesn’t know how, or when, Ravio became something akin to home.

That thought catches him off guard, just a bit. He thinks Ravio is home, now? That’s…definitely a new development.

“A while,”He starts with a shrug, ignoring his own mind as he regards the other hero. “Known him for about five years now.”He thinks so, anyway. How old is he, again? He thinks 19, might be 18 though. He’ll ask someone else when he can.

“Is he your best friend then?”

Legend could laugh at that idea. He doesn’t. Instead, he just shakes his head. “No. He isn’t my best friend. That title belongs to someone else, and she really is not willing to share it.”

He did bring it up to Styla once; not about Ravio, specifically, but just in general. She got all pouty and dramatic at the idea of sharing the best friend title, so he’s never really tried that since.

It’s not like it matters a whole lot. He never really had anyone in mind the first time he brought it up, and he doesn’t exactly have anyone in mind now either.

Or, well…okay. Maybe he does. But he’s taking it to his grave. Legend is never telling Four that they’re on the same level as his current best friend.

It’d probably go to their head.

The conversation dies, Legend thinks. Admittedly, he isn’t paying much attention anymore, so they could still be trying to talk to him and he’s just not listening enough to hear.

He wonders how Ravio’s doing. In his last letter, he mentioned that summer must bring out the hero aspiration in people, so business is probably good for the merchant right now. The other is likely ecstatic about it. 

Ravio said the orchard is looking good. He collected the honey from the beehive, too, but he hasn’t sold any of it. Didn’t want to in case Legend wanted to keep it. He’d told him to keep two jars, and that he can sell whatever was left. No point keeping all of it when the two can make a profit.

He knows for a fact that Ravio hasn’t actually touched the orchard, either—he never does. He knows better. Ravio just…doesn’t do it right, it drives Legend a little bit insane, so he learned to just not do it.

Maybe it’s a little mean, and a little weird, but Ravio hasn’t directly complained about it, so Legend guesses that it’s fine, since Ravio is often vocal about things he isn’t happy with. It’s surprisingly a good thing that Ravio likes to complain—it lets Legend know what’s wrong and what needs work.

Legend wonders if Ravio’s sneezing every five seconds now that it’s summer over there again. He always does it, so realistically he knows the answer is yes, but he doesn’t exactly have real proof of it happening right now.

He really just kinda wants to go home.

“You okay?”A voice snaps Legend out of his thoughts, and he turns slightly to see Sky walking with him. Four and Hyrule wandered off at some point, it seems.

“Mhmm,”The veteran hums in response, because what is there to say? He can’t tell Sky the whole truth cause he’ll get all weird and start thinking Legend is into Ravio or something too, like everyone else.

“You’re, um, playing with your bracelet a lot,”Sky notes gently, “Are you missing home?”

Legend doesn’t miss a beat as he nods, still toying with the bracelet’s charm. “It’s been way too fucking long,”He mumbles with a frown.

Sky doesn’t say anything about Legend’s previous claims of preferring life on the road. Hell, he probably knows that Legend’s home is a person rather than a place. He doesn’t say anything about that, though. Instead, he hums softly and places his arm around Legend’s shoulders. “I get it. I miss Skyloft a lot.”

Legend wants to make a comment about him really missing Sun, but he doesn’t say it for two reasons. The first, and most important, being because it would set Sky off on another ramble about her.

The second is more confusing. He’d feel hypocritical if he said anything, and Legend might be a lot of things but he doesn’t like being a hypocrite. He’s not 100% sure why he’d feel like one, but he has a vague idea that it’s because of his own current issue of missing Ravio.

It’s different, though. Legend doesn’t like Ravio the way Sky likes Sun. He doesn’t. 

“Is it new?”Sky hums, reaching over and gently holding Legend’s hand so he can look at the bracelet better. “I don’t think I’ve seen it before.”

It’s not exactly new, not really, but…he guesses he hasn’t really let anyone see it, so the assumption isn’t baseless. Usually he just has it hidden under his sleeve. “Sorta. I mean, I’ve…had it for a while, but only started wearing it a little while ago,”Legend mumbles with a shrug. 

The chain never really needed to know about it. It isn’t magic—just a regular bracelet—so there was no reasoning for letting them know it exists. He isn’t gonna sit down and tell them every accessory he has—they’d be there forever just on his piercings alone.

Sky nods along with Legend’s words, a soft smile on his face. Legend’s not really sure what he’s smiling about. Then, “Wanna tell me about them?”

Legend shoots him a look.

Sky takes it like he has to elaborate. “The person who gave you the bracelet. What’re they like?”

“Dad.”Legend complains, rolling his eyes. “It’s just Ravio. You know him.”

“Oh! You and Ravio are—”

“Slow your roll,”Legend cuts him off with a huff. “No. Ravio is just my roommate.”

“Oh.”Sky pauses, then frowns. He looks genuinely confused. “Really? But you two are so cute together.”

“Ugh, dad, come on.”The veteran rolls his eyes, face tinting slightly pink. 

“What? You are!”Sky insists with a pout. “I think the nicknames are adorable,”

Legend wants the ground to swallow him whole. “They’re mortifying, actually.”

“He calls you honeybee. That’s so cute.”Sky ruffles Legend’s hair. “The whole ‘bunny and rabbit’ thing you two’ve got going on is adorable, too.”

Legend falls silent. Hm. So Sky’s heard that. Shit. Legend thought he was being careful enough.

“You weren’t…supposed to notice that…”Legend confesses after a brief moment, ears tilted downwards from the embarrassment. He didn’t think anyone was around when he called Ravio ‘rabbit’. 

Being wrong is not a great feeling.

Sky just giggles about it. Giggles, right in front of Legend. He notices that Legend goes even more red, and just smiles more. “Awh—hey! It’s okay, you don’t have to be embarrassed. You know, I have more embarrassing nicknames for my Zelda!”

That doesn’t really make anything better, but Legend appreciates the fact that Sky at least made an attempt at comfort.

“Whatever,”Legend mumbles after a moment, “It’s not the same as yours and mama's nicknames.”

Sky hums. Legend has the idea that Sky doesn’t believe him. That idea is only solidified as Sky responds with a simple, “I’m sure.”

Legend chooses to ignore him now, too. Seriously, what’s up with them? It’s just a bracelet. It isn’t even the first gift Ravio’s ever given him.

Ravio gives him a lot of gifts, actually. Legend can’t offer much in return — Ravio doesn’t exactly have any piercings, nor does he really wear that much jewellery. All Legend can do to show appreciation for the gifts is cooking for him whenever he’s home.

Ravio says that it’s enough. Legend doesn’t particularly agree, but he doesn’t have anything else, so he just sticks to what he knows. He’s started learning how to cook Lorulean dishes too, for when Ravio’s missing Lorule. The hero’s never actually tried making one of those yet, but he’s got a cookbook that he’s been reading. If he can memorise the recipes, he’ll have an easier time when it comes to making them.

He hasn’t told Ravio about that part yet. Doesn’t know how Ravio would even react to that. He wouldn’t be upset by it, he doesn’t think. He’d probably get too affectionate about it, though. Every time Legend does something that Ravio really likes, the merchant gets weird and doesn’t leave him alone for a little while. Always keeps close to him for at least a day or two afterwards.

Ravio never explained it ; Legend never asked.

It’s just one of those unwritten things about them. There’s a long, mental list that Legend has that’s just filled with unwritten things that Ravio does. Ravio has a written list about things Legend does. He knows because he found it while cleaning up their room. …he’s pretty observant, but Legend supposes that it’s hard to miss things when you share a space with them. Especially for so long.

It would probably be more concerning if Ravio knew nothing about him, to be honest. Legend being cagey doesn’t translate over to the little things — the stuff Ravio’s written down. The fact it’s all written down on physical paper does make him a little embarrassed though. Some of those habits are intended to be taken to the grave, thank you, and putting it into a physical form is not taking it to the grave, Ravio, that actually makes it harder to take to the grave.

He hates him sometimes and he really does mean that in the most affectionate way possible. He doesn’t actually know what he would do if Ravio left now — he’s gotten far too used to the other being around. The stupid part of his mind tells him that he would simply stop existing. The rational part tells him that he would go into isolation again. Neither is very helpful, actually. Or particularly great. Hell, at least the rational part usually tells him he’d be fine. Fucks up with that part today? Just because it’s true doesn’t mean he wanted to hear it.

Legend tries not to let the homesickness show on his face, fingers tracing over the small, golden charm. It’s a small comfort. Both bracelets are somewhat comforting — even if he still doesn’t like that the chunkier bracelet smells like Twilight. It’s something he, unfortunately, grew used to. Ravio did say that he’d probably get used to it eventually, so it isn’t like he wasn’t warned about it.

Having it on just gives him a false sense of security — he feels safe with it, even though it realistically can’t do much in terms of protection. Neither of the bracelets can…he doesn’t think? The matching one has a strange aura that Legend can’t figure out. It’s magic, that much he knows. He’s just not really sure what type of magic it is, or what it does.

Little frustrating, but of course it is. Ravio, one of the most frustrating men that Legend has ever met, gave the thing to him, of course it’s frustrating. He’d ask about it but he wouldn’t get an answer. Hell, Ravio never answers questions half of the time. Thinks he’s really funny, and he’s only right about that one every so often. Most of the time, he’s just a little annoying.

“Fuck,”He mumbles under his breath. Doesn’t bother to even fully distract himself from his thoughts, can’t even tell if anyone heard him. He’s a little busy with his inner turmoil, with the fact his brain is yelling at him and he kind of wants to scream but he can’t because it would be concerning and nobody would have the context but —

Four and Sky were right. They were right about him and that’s never a sentence that Legend likes to say. 

He likes Ravio. How did he miss that? It’s so fucking obvious. Fable noticed it, and he’d laughed at her for it. Four noticed. Sky noticed it, even compared it to his own relationship with Sun.

This is so dumb. Also a little mortifying. But mostly dumb. How can he be that stupid to not even notice he was into Ravio before it was essentially spelled out for him?

It’s been years since he’s ever liked someone that way. Years. He damn near swore off that emotion entirely. Maybe he did notice it, then. Maybe he just ignored it til he forgot about it. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d dealt with things that way. It’s not healthy, but it’s efficient, and he’s taking efficiency over health any day.

He should probably tell Ravio. It kinda scares him to think about. Is this the type of conversation you have to have in-person? Or is it acceptable to just put it in a letter and hope for the best? He’s not really sure. He could ask, but he knows better than to think that the rest of the chain won’t figure it out. Four or Sky would know. They’d probably mention it.

God, this sucks. He might just write a letter and call it a day. Future Legend problems are not Current Legend’s problems. Who knows, he might not even send the letter! Might just write it and chicken out! It’s very plausible! It has happened before, and it will continue to happen throughout his life!

When they all stop for the night, Legend tries to keep his mind off of it all. Helps set up camp, and he knows that they’ve noticed him trying to distract himself by helping out, but nobody mentions it so it’s fine, he’s fine. Honestly, he could just ask one of them about the whole…like…etiquette of love confessions, or whatever it is, but they’d get weird about it, and Legend would rather do it wrong than be teased for it.

How should he know how it’s done? He never had the chance to confess the first time he liked someone this way, and that was years ago now. He’s about on the same level as the actual child of the group when it comes to this kinda thing, and it’s only partially his fault. It’s not like it’s ever come up often — sure, he’s had people try to date him ; has been technically engaged, but they all did the work of the whole…confession business. Legend’s never done it himself. He waited too long with Marin. Doesn’t know, even now, if he would have managed to do it at all, even if the circumstances were different.

He’s starting to think he doesn’t know anything at all. Maybe that’s a little dramatic. He isn’t surprised that he’s started being dramatic too. Legend’s picked up a lot of Ravio’s other habits — talking with his hands, clicking his tongue when annoyed, he’s even picked up on Ravio’s awful habit of chewing on whatever’s available when he’s nervous or thinking — so it was just a matter of time before he picked up the dramatics. 

Legend chooses to ignore that he was dramatic without Ravio’s influence, was dramatic about things ever since he was a kid. One of the many things he never grew out of, the many habits he never had time to get rid of. His uncle used to say that he was the most dramatic girl in the entire kingdom. Now he’s the second most dramatic man. Ravio’s always going to be the most dramatic, he thinks.

He wonders if he and Ravio had a kid, would that child be extra dramatic, on account of having two dramatic parents? And then he shoves that thought away, embarrassed at the idea and the thought of having a kid with the merchant. He’s got it bad, huh? He didn’t even notice it before. Legend is really hoping his face isn’t betraying him, because he doesn’t know how to explain why he’s embarrassed. What would he even say? ‘I thought about having a kid with a guy I just denied having a thing for’? Not a chance in hell.

Legend can’t even remember how long he’s been ignoring this. Can’t even tell if this is going to cause Ravio to finally decide he wants to move out, to ‘expand his business’ as he would explain it. He doesn’t think Ravio even thinks of him as more than the guy that saved his life and kingdom. Sure, they live together, but…Legend still kinda thinks Ravio’s only still around just because Legend doesn’t charge him rent. He wouldn’t really blame him — it’s a good deal. Legend can admit that he’s being very nice letting Ravio do what he does, and that anyone rational — anyone not stupidly in love with the man — wouldn’t put up with it.

Yeah, honestly, he’s not sure how he didn’t notice the signs of him liking the guy. The signs seem really obvious now that he’s caught up to himself enough to read them. He’ll blame it on not having time for it. That’s usually the only answer he can give — he never has enough time. It’s not a very peaceful existence, but it’s his, and isn’t that enough? Who cares if he doesn’t like it all that much. He has to work with it, he doesn’t get a choice.

Of all things to catch up on, did this really have to be the first? He feels a little cheated. Is there nothing else that he can get? Does he have to deal with this one right now? This one is all stressful and scary, could end with him losing the comfort of sharing a home with someone. He doesn’t like being alone, and Ravio being around helped with that. What if this makes him leave? Legend doesn’t really know what he’d do. Fable always says he can move into the castle when he wants to, that she would like to see her brother more, but he doesn’t like how big it is and he doesn’t feel safe around the knights, so even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t move in there. He doesn’t want to leave his house either — his uncle left it for him. It’s all he’s really got left, and he likes the orchard. 

If Ravio left, maybe he would just…stop existing, or something. He’s never had to think about it before. He’s worried about it before, sure, but he always has the confidence that Ravio would tell him before he left and he wouldn’t just go — Ravio’d told him so. But this? He’s never thought about it in this circumstance. This could really fuck things up and make the merchant never want to even look at the hero again.

He hopes that, if the goddesses can hear his thoughts, they hear him when he begs for his life to stop getting complicated. The goddesses have never listened to his pleas before, so he doesn’t bother having high expectations, but it would really be great if his life could stop getting complicated and weird. His life hasn’t stopped getting complicated since the moment he stepped out of that house and was given the burden of ‘Hero’. It’s just kept getting worse, actually. He prayed, at first, for it to all stop and go away. He gave up on that a long time ago.

Maybe if he asks really nicely, Hylia can make this problem go away for him. Maybe he can finally get some use out of being her favourite? Probably not. The thought’s nice, though. He probably wouldn’t do it anyways. Being her favourite has just made him really tired and he thinks that if he tried to use it to get her to help him out, she’d just make him keep working. He does kinda want to retire without having to die to do it.

The letters are usually reserved for Fable. He doesn’t tend to send them to anyone else — Ravio sends a few, but Legend just replies on that paper and sends it back. He’s never actually written to the other first. — but he guesses he can’t just ignore this. If it all goes wrong, at least…at least he won’t have to see Ravio leave, if he does. It’ll still hurt but it would hurt more if he had to watch it happen. This is safer. He has the safety of it being on paper, of not having to watch as Ravio puts on that fake little smile, the one he puts on when he’s uncomfortable but doesn’t want to hurt feelings. Legend’s seen him put it on around knights and particularly annoying customers. He never wants it directed at him.

Legend doesn’t eat a lot of his dinner that night. Mostly just pokes at it, eats whenever Sky gives him a look, but doesn’t finish it. Passes it off to Four, when he’s sure nobody else is paying much attention. He just tells Four that he isn’t hungry. Doesn’t know, or care, if they believe him or not. They don’t question him, which is good enough. He kinda likes that about the smithy — they barely ever question him on things. They love questioning everyone else, just to make them annoyed or upset, but they never seem to do it to Legend anymore. The two have got their own little dynamic going on, anyways, so the cycle of questions and annoyance wouldn’t work with them for long.

It’s especially helpful now, because Legend hates telling Four that they’re right about anything. They’re a cocky little shit about it and Legend has enough going on, he doesn’t think he could convince himself to not throttle the smithy this time. That’s hard enough to do when he isn’t distracted. He loves the other like a little sibling, but it’s very hard to not want them dead sometimes. He supposes that might just be a sibling thing, though, because he and his sister have wanted each other dead every so often too and they’re literally twins.

He takes first watch. Manages to convince Time to let him take watch on his own. He doesn’t tell him why, just manages to make up some bullshit excuse about how it’ll be better so that the later watch doesn’t have to only be one person. It’s convincing enough to work, and that’s good enough for him. It gives him time to work on writing that letter that he has to write, and it means nobody will be bugging him while he does it.

His handwriting isn’t the best anyways. He doesn’t like to write around other people due to that. It’s messy and it’s just not something he’s proud of. Honestly, it’s bad enough that he can’t figure out how to say the things he wants to, it’s even worse when his terrible handwriting is thrown into the mix. This whole thing is making him feel ten times dumber than he is.

They head to bed not long after sorting out the watch system for the night. This is somewhat comforting. Means he isn’t sitting around with anxiety for even longer than he wants to, and gives him extra time to figure out what the hell he’s doing. Does he put filler in the letter? Talk about something for a while before getting to the point? Should he just confess and leave the letter as nothing more than a shitty confessional? He thinks the former, but he knows Ravio’s attention span isn’t great. Would he get bored of the letter if he talks too much, miss the point of it completely?

Damnit. Why isn’t anything ever easy? Everything has to be a difficult task for him, even when it’s something stupid, small and trivial. It’s so unfair. Legend thinks he deserves a raise, but then remembers that he doesn’t get paid for any of it, and just gets a little annoyed at how he doesn’t get paid. He wishes he did. He doesn’t really need it, he and Ravio make enough from their own business ventures, but it’d sure be nice to be paid for his efforts.

Is that selfish? Maybe a little bit. He’ll probably forget about it in the morning anyways, he’s just upset and has a lot going on at the moment. It’ll pass. It always does. This is not the first time he’s gotten annoyed about this topic and it certainly will not be the last time, either. Seems to come up whenever he’s stressed. Maybe he should talk to someone about that.

Nah. He’s got more important shit goin on. Such as this stupid letter. He hasn’t actually managed to write anything yet — he has the paper out, and has a pencil in his hand, but he doesn’t have any words. Not even one. This is a lot harder than it looks, alright? He’s never done this before and it’s definitely showing. Who knew something as simple as a letter could cause so much difficulty? 

It’s just Ravio. He shouldn’t be worried. Ravio’s never given him reason to be afraid to tell him things. He briefly glances at the bracelet on his wrist, watches the sun-shaped charm reflect the firelight. It really is a pretty bracelet. The veteran hasn’t been able to stop looking at it, today. Maybe it’s because it helps with homesickness, or maybe it’s just because Ravio gave it to him, but he doesn’t ever really want to take the thing off. There’s something about it. He still doesn’t know what kind of magic this thing is coated with. Maybe he should ask about it. Ravio knows him better than to think he wouldn’t be able to tell it’s magic, maybe he’s just waiting to be asked about it.

Wouldn’t be surprising in the slightest. The other hasn’t ever been very forthcoming about things until he’s directly asked about it.

As he just sits there and looks at the charm, Legend realises that he just feels so out of his depth. This isn’t something he’s good at — the whole…expressing emotions thing. He always feels awkward and embarrassed about what he feels, so he just never really talks about that kinda stuff. He’s not sure why he gets so embarrassed about it, really ; nobody else seems to struggle with it. Maybe this is just another thing he never learned to do. Like reading. He didn’t learn to read until he was twelve, after all. Maybe he just needs to learn how to do it when he has time.

He is never going to stop giggling about anything relating to the word ‘time’ now. Every time he just thinks of Time himself and it gives him the funniest mental images in the world. He is very glad that there’s only one person in the world that can hear his thoughts and that she finds it as funny as he does.

This is just stalling. He’s absolutely stalling by thinking about anything and everything except the task at hand. Maybe he should just get it over with — throw some words on the paper, shove it in an envelope and seal it up so he doesn’t have to look at what he wrote before he sends it off. But, then, he worries that he’d throw the wrong words on there, or that he wouldn’t even get to the point. No matter what he does, he’s going to be anxious about it. It’s eating at him, a little bit. The worry. It wants to swallow him whole and leave not a single thing behind.

Legend chooses to stop thinking about it so much. He tries to write as neatly as he can, though it takes more effort than it would take anyone else. He just wants it to be legible. If he was so nervous about it only for Ravio to not be able to read his handwriting, he would actually die. He asks what magic the bracelet has. Tells Ravio that he noticed it a while ago and felt awkward asking about it. Talks a little about different things that’ve happened since they last spoke. He leaves the confession until last. Puts it at the end, and he notices that his handwriting is shakier when he writes it. No matter how hard he’d tried, he couldn’t stop his nerves from getting the best of him when it got to the point.

He signs it off with a small doodle of a bee and folds the letter in half to go into the envelope. Seals it with a small, blue wax seal that he stamps with a small bunny-shaped stamp. He has the one with the royal crest on it, but he’s never actually used that one. He just has it in-case it’s needed.

There. Done. He bit the bullet and now whatever happens after he sends this is in the goddesses hands until he gets home to find out if Ravio left or not. No big deal. Not terrifying at all, no sir. Not at all.

He doesn’t have to wait for the postman. He can just get Sheerow to deliver it — she’s been the one taking the letters back and forth between himself and the others back home anyways. She wouldn’t mind. But he doesn’t actually know how she would feel about it. She’s a smart bird, she would know this isn’t a normal letter.

What to do.

If he waits, he has to hold onto this thing for longer. If he just calls Sheerow, she could investigate the letter herself. …she can’t read, can she? He genuinely isn’t sure. He can read when he’s an animal, and Twilight can. Is that only because they’re really Hylian? Or can all animals read, to an extent? Has Sheerow been reading their letters this whole time? 

He really didn’t think he’d be questioning if birds can read. Maybe Sky knows. Surely he wouldn’t mind being woken up for one question? Legend glances over to where Sky is sleeping. He’s got Four tucked under his arm, the other laying across his own stomach. He’ll never say it out loud, but he kinda wishes he was tucked into Sky’s other side.

Legend heads over anyways. Pokes Sky’s face a little. “Dad. Dad, wake up.”He whispers, rolling his eyes when Sky makes a vague noise in response. “Daaaaaaad.”

“Whuh?”Sky blinks his eyes open sleepily, looking a little more awake the second he sees Legend next to him. “S’mthing wrong?”

“I need to know if birds can read.”

Sky stares at him for a minute. Legend just stares right back. After a moment, Sky lets out a tired sigh. “Baby, it’s late.”

“I know. I’m sorry. But can birds read? It’s important.”

He clicks his tongue slightly, but smiles softly anyways. “Birds can be taught to read a little, yes.”

“Oh. Okay.”Legend nods. Ravio wouldn’t have taught Sheerow how to read, so he’s in the clear. “Thank you.”

“You’re…welcome? I think?”Sky blinks rapidly, confusion written on his face.

“Night dad,”Legend hums before heading back to the fire. He’ll just call Sheerow to give Ravio the letter, in that case. What reason would Ravio have to teach her to read?

…apart from just because he thought it would be funny. He would do it for that reason. But it doesn’t matter — Legend doesn’t understand a damn thing about that bird anyways. He’s not sure how she even gets here when he needs her, but it’s efficient. He’s still taking efficiency over all else.

Who cares if the little jelly bean shaped bird is somehow a tiny time-traveller? She’s cool. Legend likes her. She sometimes just hangs out in his hair. Fun times all around. He likes Sheerow a lot. If Ravio leaves him, he would actually mourn the loss of Sheerow, too. If anything bad ever happened to Sheerow he would commit a crime. Maybe he just likes small animals. Another thing to add to the list of weird things about himself. 

She doesn’t take long to arrive when he calls for her. She sits on his knee patiently, nudges his hand a few times until he pets her. He never does give her the letter right away, always gives her affection first. Come on, how can he not? Sheerow deserves it. She chirps a few times, turns her attention to the letter after a while. 

“Yeah, um.”Legend sighs when she does, frowning. “I, um. Need ya to take that to Rav. Okay?”

She confirms and takes it with little convincing. She stopped being stubborn about things a little while ago, when Legend started giving her attention first. It’s a decent way of dealing with things, and it’s not like he minds much. She gets one final pet before she takes off with the letter.

Legend lets out a heavy sigh. Well. That letter is Future Legend’s problem now, not his. Whatever happens…well, it happens, he supposes. He just hopes Ravio won’t hate him now. The merchant likes to say he doesn’t have a single hating bone in his body, but Sky said that too, and Sky hates some of the people in his and Four’s eras just because of how they speak to them. So his worry isn’t really placated by the statement.

He wakes Warriors and Wild up when it’s time to switch shifts. He’s tired and stressed at the same time, which is a really fun combination. Will he succumb to the tiredness, or will the stress keep him awake? He has absolutely no idea! He hopes he gets to sleep. Really, he does, because if he doesn’t sleep he’ll just think, and thinking is way worse than sleep sometimes.

Legend ends up giving into what he wanted to do earlier. Heads over to Sky and tucks himself into the man's other side, more for the comfort of it than anything else. Maybe it’ll calm his mind down and let him sleep? It does the trick. He isn’t sure when he falls asleep, but he manages it eventually, curled up into Sky’s side.

Morning comes and Legend’s anxiety hasn’t gone away like he thought it would have. It’s still there eating away at him, which is total bullshit. It should have left. The letter was sent, he doesn’t have to stress about it anymore. 

He wonders if Ravio’s read it yet. Immediately after, he lets out a tired sigh. He’s still worrying about it. He can’t even get a break — fuck, he isn’t going to relax until he knows what Ravio’s reaction is, will he?

This is so lame. 

“You alright over there?”He hears Four, but doesn’t actually answer. Just lets out a heavy sigh and tucks his knees up to his chest so he can hide his face. He's not ready to exist as a functioning person. Won’t be until he gets an answer.

He hates this, actually. This was supposed to be Future Legend’s problem, not Current Legend’s problem! He feels a little bit robbed, honestly. So not cool.

He doesn’t express his anxiety. Just gets up for the day. Doesn’t eat his breakfast, passes it off to Four again. They give him a look this time — Red’s worried about him, going off that eye colour. He feels a little bad about worrying her — but don't speak. Good enough. He can ignore looks much easier. Even if he does feel a tiny bit bad about it.

At least it’s not Vio today. Vio would hold him at knifepoint until he told them what was wrong. A little intimidating, but it gets the job done, so Legend can’t blame Vio for using a method that’s never failed them.

He just would like to never experience it. Ever. Vio honestly scares him a little. But thankfully, it’s too early for Vio to be fully functioning, so he isn’t getting threatened today.

He hopes Ravio replies to the letter. Even if it’s just to make an excuse about why he has to go back to Lorule. Even if it’s just to tell Legend that he hates him and doesn’t want to see him again in their entire lives. It would hurt, but it wouldn’t be new. Legend wouldn’t blame him.

They don’t linger around long, and it doesn’t take a long time to get all their shit together either. Legend ends up helping Four out with their things ; he thinks they have a headache. They aren’t focusing very well this morning. Legend wouldn’t be surprised if they have an argument going on up there right now.

He sticks to the back of the group when they set off. He ends up having to walk beside Twilight, and he has to do his very best to hide any of his negative emotions right fucking now because Twilight can read emotions far too easily. He doesn’t need Twilight asking him about it.

The worry is still eating at him. It hasn’t stopped.

“I hope we get a portal soon,”He hears Wind whistle, “We’ve been in this era for a while.”

“Yeah, I hope we get to go somewhere else. Who’s era do you think we’ll end up in?”

“Hyrule, nobody’s keeping track of it,”

“I think we’ll end up in Legend’s era next,”Four speaks up, “We haven’t been there in a long time. It would make sense if it was his next.”

Oh he hopes not. He would take anyone else’s era right now, not his own. His own era is exactly where he doesn’t want to be. Like, there is nowhere he wants to be less right now.

“Oh, fun!”Sky laughs a little. “You might get to be home soon, bun!”

“I really, really do not know how to express how much I do not want that.”Legend snaps out, too busy trying to ignore his nerves to even remember he’s supposed to be pretending to be fine. 

“...you don’t want to be home?”Warriors blinks slowly. Legend can feel the confusion from the rest of the group.

“I don’t want to be home,”He repeats back simply. “Can we drop it?”

He watches Sky’s confusion turn into concern, as the other slows to walk beside him. “Okay, baby, we don’t have to talk about it.”

Legend nods once. Doesn’t open his mouth again. He’s not sure what Sky or the others are thinking about what he said. Really, he isn’t convinced that he wants to know their thoughts.

They run into a portal, eventually. Legend really hopes Four is wrong. He doesn’t want to be in his era. He’ll take Wild’s era over his, and he fucking hates the champions era because of how much walking you have to do. He hopes this isn’t his era, he isn’t ready.

It’s his era. He knows it the second he walks through that damn portal. He feels his connection with Fable strengthens back up, smells the familiar scent that his era has.

He lets out a long, pained sigh. Sits on the ground with his head in his hands. He does not want to be here — really, he doesn’t. He can’t avoid his problems forever when the person he’s avoiding knows all of his hiding spots. The goddesses must really enjoy laughing at him.

“Um.”Four kneels down and pokes Legend. Wind copies Four’s actions and pokes Legend a second time. “Are you good down there?”

“Let me rot and die.”

“Um, I don’t think I want to do that,”

Legend flips them off. Four just hums. 

He isn’t ready for this. He doesn’t really know if he was ever going to be, but he definitely isn’t ready right now. This is such a cruel joke. He knows he hasn’t been very into religion, despite Impa’s best efforts, but is that really bad enough to warrant being turned into the goddesses personal jester?

If they think he’s going to start praying because of this, they are sorely mistaken.

“Apple, come on, we need to get moving, if that’s okay?”Sky tries to nudge him gently to get up.

“Why are none of you willing to let me just sit here and die?”

“Because we need you. Now get up.”Warriors is much less gentle about it. He gets glared at by Sky for it, which is a little bit funny.

He gets up, eventually. He’s not going to be addressing any of his problems right now, not when he has a much bigger one to address when he gets home. He was hoping he had a little more time, but really, why did he expect to get what he wanted? Never does. Probably never will. He exists to suffer. Yes, he’s probably being dramatic again, but it feels perfectly reasonable to him right now.

“I need you guys to fuck off for a little while so I can deal with the consequences of my own actions.”Legend states once they reach the village. He can just head home, deal with his problems, and then promptly die. If Ravio isn’t there, he will be letting the earth reclaim him, though.

He doesn’t wait for a response. Just leaves them behind and heads to his house. He can feel his heart pounding as he walks, the nerves eating his insides and his brain screaming at him.

The shop signs are still up. Usually, Legend hates those things, but he can’t help but be a tiny bit relieved to see them. Ravio wouldn’t leave without those — “It’s way too expensive to replace them, Mr. Hero.” — and so it’s good to know that, at least, the merchant is still here.

He doesn’t think he’s ever opened that front door with more hesitation in his entire life. “Rav?”His voice sounds way too quiet but he can’t even care about it at the minute. He sees the envelope open, discarded on the top of a sales cabinet. Ravio read the letter, then. Legend takes a breath. 

“Ah! Mr. Hero!”Ravio jumps a little. “You’re back!”

A hum. “Yeah. Um. Hi.”

Silence.

Ravio tilts his head at Legend, but Legend doesn’t know if he can even look at him, so he looks at the ground and kicks his feet a little. It’s so quiet, it might actually drive him insane. 

“If you hate me can you just tell me?”He blurts out after the silence dragged out for too long. It was too much, he couldn’t take it. He’d rather Ravio just yell at him or insult him or something, anything is better than silence.

“Mr. Hero…”Ravio hums, and Legend hears him walking over. “I don’t hate you! I could never!”

He doesn’t know if he believes him.

“Your letter was nice,”He continues, voice quiet. Legend can’t tell if he’s just trying to match Legend’s own quiet energy with it. “I’m afraid that the magic on that bracelet is a trade secret though, honeybunny,”He laughs a little and pokes Legend’s nose. Legend bites his finger for it. “Ow—meanie!”

“Deserved it.”

“I thought you loved me,”Ravio teases with a grin, and Legend falls quiet. Shrinks in on himself a bit, takes a step back. He’s scared of this whole thing and he wants to run and hide and never show his face ever again — “Hey, hey. Breathe. I’m sorry, Link, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Yeah right. Legend doesn’t believe that for a second. “So you read the whole thing, then…”

Ravio sighs. “Yep. Did you not want me to?”

“I don’t know.”

Ravio goes quiet. Legend hears him tapping his fingers against his arms like he does when he thinks. All that’s running through the hero’s mind is “He’s trying to figure out how to let me down easy”. He really regrets sending the letter, this shit is way more terrifying than any of the monsters he’s ever fought.

“I’m glad you were the one to say something. I thought you were going to kick me out if I told you I wanted to kiss you.”Ravio shrugs, eventually, and Legend genuinely thinks his brain just stopped working. He just kinda looks at the other for a while.

What.

“Don’t look at me like that!”He laughs nervously. “I did! I thought you would kick me out for it!”

Why did Legend’s type in men have to be ‘stupid’.

“Oh.”The hero sighs, shaking his head a little. “You don’t hate me for it?”

Ravio shakes his head again. “The opposite, actually! See, if you didn’t say anything, I was going to have to. We’ve been at this for months now, Mr. Hero. Honestly, I’m glad we can get past that whole deal now.”

He lets out another breath. Oh, hey, the anxiety’s stopped eating his guts out. Hooray!

“Though, you never asked me to date you in that lovely little letter of yours,”

“I will actually kill you.”

Ravio just laughs. Legend cannot believe that this is the man he’s decided he wants to live for.

That thought is still fond, though, because of course it is. Legend hasn’t had a single thought about Ravio that hasn’t been affectionate in the past twenty four hours.

“I guess you did do half of the work,”Ravio speaks again with a shrug. “Okay. So. You did the confession stuff, can we date now, or do I need to wait for your next emotional breakthrough for that one?”

“Just for that, you have to wait.”

“What—hey! No!”

Legend heads out to go and fetch the others, laughing at Ravio’s minor distress as he leaves.