#like mine are growing fine to my knowledge

[mikhailoisbaby]

-

[igbylicious]

whichever way [woosan x reader] pt13

pairing: woosan x f reader

rating: 18+

genre: smut, fluff-ish, neighbours au, FWB to QPR

ch. summary: San goes on a little journey of self-discovery with you.

wc: 14k

ch. warnings: sub San, switch / dom reader & Wooyoung, like 5 sec of manhandling & dryhumping, shibari / bondage, praise kink, body worship, cock-warming, orgasm denial, finger sucking, oral, dacryphilia, DVP (fingers & cock), creampie, cum play, Wooyoung fucks San’s tiddies, cum shot (on those same tiddies), multiple orgasms, condomless sex w/ an IUD, San is called ‘good boy’, reader is called ‘baby’ & ‘good girl’, one encounter of amatonormativity from a well-intentioned neighbour, potential second-hand embarrassment

a/n: features a soft-bodied, aromantic reader who uses she/her pronouns.

masterlist. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, epilogue

“Pick me, I’m tasty!” the little raccoon dog mascot on the instant noodles package says to you, in an adorably pitchy sing-song voice. San pokes his face out from behind the package, his open-mouthed smile so wide and bright he almost looks like a cartoon character himself.

You giggle at San’s antics, though you ignore the packet in his hands and reach for a different flavour from the store’s shelves. “Cute! But no; Wooyoung asked for this one,” you say, holding up the extra spicy variant.

“That’s what Wooyoung asked for, yes,” San pouts, reverting back to his normal voice, ��but he always steals mine and leaves the hot ones for me. He can buy them himself if he wants them, I’m not doing this anymore! My mouth has burned enough.”

“Fine fine, this is a lovers’ quarrel I’m not getting involved in,” you laugh at San’s impassioned speech. “If he complains, I’m telling him it’s your fault!”

And so only the mildest of instant noodles end up in your cart before you go through the rest of the store. The separation between your groceries and those of San and Wooyoung grows blurrier with every trip; Wooyoung didn’t even ask if you were joining them for dinner, only how you felt about beef bibimbap for tonight.

It’s busy at the store today, meaning there’s a bit of a line for the cash registry. Bored by the wait, San toys with the strings of his hoodie. He fiddles with them for a while, then pulls the strings taut until the hoodie hides all but a glimpse of his face, his nose peeking out along with a tiny feline grin on his lips.

At first you just fondly watched him — but now you can’t resist temptation. You steal the strings away from San to tie them into a tight knot, trapping him in his hoodie.

“Ack!” San yelps, startled and pawing at your hands to get back control of the strings.

Giggling, you take mercy on him and undo the knot again. “Sorry, guess I’m in the mood to practice a little more ropework today,” you joke, taking off San’s hood and fixing a few upright tufts of his hair.

“Oh, are you now?” he says, his indignant sulk only tempting you to do it again. “Starting to regret I taught you anything at all. You have way too much power now.”

“The power of tying a simple knot?!” you laugh. “Don’t take too much credit, mister, I didn’t need you to teach me that one!”

But San has been teaching you. Eagerly, even.

From the moment you expressed an interest, San happily jumped on the chance to pass on his knowledge of bondage. He does teach for a living, after all; and though ropework is obviously a far cry from taekwondo, he instructed you with the same enthusiasm that he has for his students.

Meanwhile, Wooyoung happily volunteered himself as a practice subject. Sometimes he’d nag at you, so used to San’s skilful fingers that yours set off his impatience — but for the most part, Wooyoung proved unexpectedly useful, his candid feedback making it easier to get a feel for judging rope tension.

And although you’d first meant it as a joke to tease San, now you do actually feel an itch in your fingers.“So… could we? Practise some more today?” you ask, lowering your voice, keeping your words vague on purpose, although none of the staff or other customers are paying you any mind.

“Today?” San says, lines crinkling between his brows. “Ah, I don’t know, Wooyoung will be out to the movies with Yeosang later…”

“He’s going without you?” you ask, distracted by the new piece of information. “What, have you been hoarding Sangie too much to yourself again?”

San’s bottom lip juts into a pout. “I don’t hoard him, I’m just not into the movie!” he protests, so earnestly that you wonder if he really believes it, or if he’s forgotten about the time you saw him clinging onto Wooyoung’s childhood friend for an entire game night, stubborn in his attempts to lay a smooch on Yeosang’s cheek.

(Yeosang’s dramatic aversion to his friends’ kisses always gets a giggle out of you. He can’t fool you; you know from experience that San and Wooyoung would cut it out if he really minded it that much.)

“Though I guess we don’t need Woo,” San muses, smoothly turning the subject away from the Yeosang-hoarding allegations. “You could try some stuff on yourself, feel first-hand what you’re doing.”

“…Or I could practice on you…?” you suggest, half playful, half probing.

San blinks in surprise, like the thought had not occurred to him — but the conversation is put on a temporary halt when it’s your turn to check out your groceries. He frowns while packing everything up, thoughtful but also tentative, like it’s the first time he’s ever even considered to let someone tie him up.

San’s frown has faded by the time you step out of the store, but he still has a quiet, contemplative look on his face.

“No pressure, obviously,” you say, nudging his arm with your elbow. “About the practice thing. It was just a thought.”

“No no! It’s…” San shakes his head and gives you a small grin. “You know what? Let’s try it. Put your knowledge to the test!”

“Right,” you grin back at him, a little spring in your step as you walk back home together. There’s a gleam in San’s eyes too, growing brighter as he gets more and more used to the idea of trying something new with you.

It’s just a short walk back to the apartment building, where you come across your downstairs neighbour at the elevator; Mrs Yoon, a tiny old lady carrying a package that looks far too big and heavy for her.

San, ever the gentleman, immediately passes one of his grocery bags over to you and takes the box from Mrs Yoon.

“Always such a nice, helpful boy,” she coos over San, tip-toeing to reach and pinch his cheek. Mrs Yoon somewhat resembles a shrivelled apple, small and round and wrinkled — but any conversation proves that she’s still got plenty of juice left in her.

“Does he take such good care of you too?” she asks you, a playful glint in her eyes. “I’m sure he does, I can tell he’s great… ‘Boyfriend material’, that’s the word you young folk use nowadays, isn’t it?”

You flinch briefly, but recover fast. It’s not like this is the first time people have made assumptions about you and San, or you and Wooyoung. Hell, you and Hongjoong used to deal with this too. Through necessity you have cultivated a certain degree of resigned patience for these situations.

Still, it was long enough that San beats you to the punch, shaking his head at Mrs Yoon with a friendly smile. “No, Mrs Yoon, I’m—” he starts, but hesitates when a clear alternative fails to present itself.

It doesn’t matter anyway; she easily breezes past San’s protest. “And the other handsome young man, of course! I had not forgotten, don’t worry,” she says with a cheeky grin of joyful wrinkles, her giggle like a reedy cackle. “I heard the three of you spending your time together well.”

San’s cheeks go completely beet red, for a split-second you’re confused by his embarrassment — but then it sinks in what Mrs Yoon meant by having ‘heard’ you.

She heard you, just like you used to hear San and Wooyoung.

You stammer an apology, but she waves it off. “Oh hush,” she says firmly. “I was young once too, I know what it’s like. Good on you kids, you need to enjoy it while you can! It’s alright to have a little extra fun.”

The elevator dings as it reaches Mrs Yoon’s floor, and San almost trips over his feet as he walks her to her apartment to take the heavy package inside. You awkwardly wait for him to get back, embarrassment still flowing hotly in your veins. San does not look much better off when he shuffles back into the elevator, wordlessly taking back the grocery bag he passed over to you earlier so he could help your old, lively neighbour.

He clears his throat, trying for an easygoing grin. “For the record, I have been informed that Mrs Yoon very much enjoys the silence when she turns her hearing aid off, and doesn’t mind doing so at all.”

“Oh god,” you groan, wanting nothing more than to hide your face in your hands — except maybe sink through the elevator floor, letting yourself plummet straight to the bottom and down into the very core of the earth.

“At least she’s cool about non-monogamy?” San tries for a crooked smile, though redness still blooms across his cheeks. “Though I guess she only has half the right idea of us.”

“Yeah, I guess…” you say, still mulling on San’s earlier moment of speechlessness.

San frowns, concern gleaming in his eyes at your timid response. “You okay?” he asks; San is not unbothered by assumptions about the three of you either, but he knows they hit a little differently for you.

“Oh, yeah, yes I’m okay. I’m used to this stuff,” you say, and part of you hates how true that is. “It just kinda hit me that I don’t know what the ‘right’ idea about us is. Or how to put it into words, at least. We never really bothered to define much, did we?”

“No, we didn’t,” he says, opening the door to his apartment. “…I thought you preferred it that way? Not trying too hard to fit ourselves into a label?”

“True, true,” you admit, stepping inside. (You faintly hear Wooyoung’s voice from the living area.) “And I still don’t want to force anything. It’s just… inconvenient sometimes, you know.”

How would you describe San and Wooyoung? Your friends? Well, yes, but you don’t feel like that covers the full scope of things in this context. Partners? Too… formal. Definitely not your boyfriends. No matter what word pops up in your head, it chafes; nothing fits as smoothly as a simple ‘your San’ and ‘your Wooyoung’.

San glances over his shoulder as he hauls the grocery bags into the living area, raising an eyebrow at you. “Inconvenient for us, or inconvenient for other people?” he asks pointedly. “If we’re happy with how we do things, or what we call them, it’s not our problem if others get confused.”

You blink at San. “…Damn. Good point.”

“I make those sometimes!”

“Of course, some people try their damn best to turn it into our problem.”

“Shush. Don’t take this away from me,” San chides, but he quiets when he realises Wooyoung is talking to someone on video call. Wooyoung gives you a distracted wave, but stays focused on his conversation. Something about his most recent crafts project, customising an old jacket.

“Yeah, I saw the pictures, it looks good, I like how you placed the lettering,” the voice from Wooyoung’s phone says — and you break out into a smile when you recognise that voice, all else forgotten.

“Joong!” you say, wrapping a loose arm around Wooyoung’s shoulders as you slide up behind him, stoked to see your oldest friend on the screen. He’s currently rocking cranberry red hair, matched with a grungy blazer, and grins when he sees you.

You embrace this chance for a brief but lively surprise meeting, always missing Hongjoong; even if he did come over for a visit just a few weeks ago.

During that time, he and Wooyoung rapidly developed the type of friendship where you’re not always sure if Hongjoong adores Wooyoung to absolute bits, or if he wants to stick him behind the wallpaper. (Though today clearly is an adoration day.) San is still a little quiet around Hongjoong, anxious for approval from your best friend, so he shyly hangs around in the back while you and Wooyoung chat/bicker with Hongjoong.

It’s not too long before the call ends, some work schedule thing forcing Hongjoong to leave. Work has kept him real busy lately, and you quietly resolve to send him a little care package this week.

Once Hongjoong disappears from his phone’s screen, Wooyoung turns to you.

“What was that talk earlier when you guys came back? Sounded kinda serious. Were you overthinking again?”

“I wasn’t overthi—! …Okay, yeah fine maybe I was,” you admit.

“About what?”

“Labels,” San pipes up from the kitchenette. “Hey, you gonna help me out here?”

“Sorry, yeah!” You join San to properly finish up the chore of grocery shopping together, and smile when you find one packet of spicy noodles between the milder ones as you put them away.

Wooyoung’s face wrinkles up. “You were overthinking labels? I thought you were on my side about those.”

(Like you, Wooyoung also does not feel a strong need to confine your relationship within strict definitions. San is the most traditional-minded out of your trio when it comes to these things; but he values happiness over conformity a million times over, content to let the issue rest for your and Wooyoung’s comfort.)

“I am, I am!” you say. “Mrs Yoon just punted me into a five-second long spiral when she pretty much called San my boyfriend and we didn’t know how to correct her. I’ve unspiralled already, I swear! Crisis over before it even started.”

“No, fair enough,” Wooyoung allows. “‘My non-romantic life partner who I fuck on the regular’ just doesn’t roll off the tongue, does it?”

“Nope. But…” You trail off, recognising an opportunity to smoothly slide into a topic that crossed your mind recently. “‘My neighbour’ is also technically correct, I suppose,” you say cheekily, smiling when San instantly grouses at the distant, casual term, “but who’s to say we’ll be neighbours forever? I mean, it’d be cool to at least upgrade to ‘roommates’ someday, right?”

For a split moment, the guys are struck silent by the suggestion. Not that long ago, it would’ve been enough to punt you into another five-second spiral, fretting whether you massively misjudged the situation — but it’s not enough anymore. You’re steadier than that by now, secure in your place within this barely-defined relationship.

And surely a gradual smile breaks out on Wooyoung’s face like in slow-motion, his eyes shining in delight. You let out an ‘umph’ when two strong arms suddenly wrap around you from behind, San’s reassuring weight settling against you.

“Yeah. That’d be cool,” San murmurs as he pulls you firmly into him, pressing his cheek against the side of your head.

“Hadn’t expected you to be the one to bring that up,” Wooyoung says, his teasing grin undermined by the softness drawn into his face.

You lean back into San with a little scoff, rolling your eyes half-playfully, half-serious. “Hey c’mon, stop acting like I’ll bolt at the tiniest whiff of commitment! I’ve proven enough by now that you guys are stuck with me, right?”

“Okay okay,” San says with a laugh, “we’ll try to stop treating you like a flight risk! It’s just— Me and Woo talked about this like, a few days ago.”

“Pff, ‘talked’?” Wooyoung huffs, coming over to put an arm around San, who still has his arms around you. “What San means is he picked a fight with me about it.”

“A fight?!” You turn your head to look back at them, blinking in confusion.

“A real stupid one too!”

“Hey, don’t say it like that, she’s gonna get the wrong idea!” San protests. “It was just a misunderstanding is all!”

“Guys…”

“All I said was that the apartment is feeling a bit small these days, that next time we should look for something bigger, a better fit for us!” Wooyoung sighs. “There I was, trying to throw you a hint, but you just started sulking and grumbling at me like I’d already packed my bags to move out and abandon her the next day!”

“Really?” you ask, a smile breaking out on your face at San’s abashed disgruntlement.

Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “He got so cross at the idea of not being neighbours that he didn’t even bother to actually listen to what I was saying. Why do you think the apartment felt too damn small, you idiot?”

“Just didn’t sit right with me,” San mumbles. “The idea of not living next to each other. Or with each other. Not being close.”

“Which is why I brought it up,” Wooyoung says, poking at San’s cheek. “I thought we should talk about it before becomes a thing.” His eyes flicker to you, seriousness smoothing over his face. “So yeah, you beat us to the punch. It’s not like I’m in a rush or got it all planned out or anything, I mean I just moved here, but… I don’t know, did we get lazy? About us, about figuring stuff out?”

Warmth spreads through your chest as you listen to them, but Wooyoung’s question brings you a little closer back down to earth.

“Maybe? Yeah, maybe we did get complacent,” you admit. Nothing wrong with not labelling things but… “We never really bothered to sit down and talk things through after the whole ‘hey, let’s stick together for a long time’ talk, yeah. Never talked about what that actually looks like.”

“We were too busy enjoying the moment to think ahead, yeah,” San says with a breathy chuckle, clutching a little tighter onto you.

“To be fair,” Wooyoung says, a grin returning to his lips, “the moments have been pretty damn great. So… does that settle it? Next place we move into, we move in together? Something nice and a little bigger, with an extra bedroom so you got your own space?”

“For someone who doesn’t have it all planned out, you sure put a lot of thought into it,” you giggle, reaching a hand to find Wooyoung’s. “Yeah. That settles it.”

“So. You got upset at the thought of not living next to me, huh?” You give San a cheeky grin, unable to resist teasing him about earlier. “That’s cute.”

You’re both kneeling on his bed, some soft music playing in the background. Dressed for comfort, San is wearing his grey sweatpants and a fitted t-shirt — and you just finished tying a rope around his wrists, after he took you through a refresher of some basics. San was in the middle of diligently inspecting your work, but your teasing has knocked him straight out of teacher mode, into pouty mode.

“Shut up, Wooyoung wasn’t as obvious about his ‘hints’ as he made it sound,” he sulks. He looks back down on the rope, then gives you a heavy side-eye. “…Did you wait on purpose to make fun of me until I was tied up?”

“No way, I’d never make fun of you for being cute,” you say matter-of-factly.

San squints suspiciously at your tone, trying to figure out if you are, in fact, making fun of him again.

“Okay but seriously, does this feel alright?” you ask, squeezing his bound hands. San had stayed mostly quiet when you tied him up; you don’t need much instruction anymore for basic knots — but you did catch a few steadying breaths from him, the bondage clearly having some effect on San.

“It’s… different,” he says hesitantly.

“Need me to take them off?” you ask at once, ready to pry the knot loose, but San shakes his head.

“No, no, they can stay on. It just—” San frowns, struggling for words. “It’s just not my usual thing,” he eventually settles on. “Letting go of control… It’s not exactly my strong point.”

“Ah, so this is not just practice for me, but for you too!” you tease, but you rub a reassuring thumb over his knuckles as you do so. Curiosity nags at you, and you finally ask the question that’s been on your mind ever since you first suggested using him as your guinea pig. “…Is this your first time getting tied up?”

“I used to practice on myself, way back, but other than that? Yeah, first time.” San chuckles at your contemplative expression. “What’s with that face? It can’t be a surprise that a dom doesn’t get tied up on the regular, can it?”

You shrug. “I mean, you’re usually in charge, yeah; being submissive is clearly not your go-to. But never? I don’t know, the few times we mixed things up… you enjoyed it, right? Like the morning after I stayed over? You can’t tell me you weren’t into getting spoiled like that!”

San gives a little head-tilt, as if to say ‘fair enough’. “I was,” he allows with a tiny smile, bursting with memories. “It… it’s nice when I really need it, I guess.”

His answer churns inside you for a moment, and you mislike the way it settles in your stomach. It’s true; San rarely is submissive unless stress or exhaustion has gotten to him.

“Um, San? Listen, I won’t push anything on you,” you say, carefully, feeling especially cognisant of the fact you have him tied up with nowhere to go. “But… you know you don’t have to need it, right? I’m more than happy to switch things up when you want to. Same for Wooyoung, I’m sure!”

San goes quiet, looking down at his bound wrists like he’s searching for some epiphany in the place where rope presses against his skin.

You smile faintly, and raise a soft hand to cup his cheek. “Just think about it, alright? No wrong answers.”

San’s eyes flutter shut as he nuzzles into your palm. He sighs, something releasing inside him. Letting go of just a tiny scrap of control, maybe.

“Want to take it off now?” you ask, and untie the knot when San nods quietly.

“…I did like the feel of the rope,” San admits after you finish, a hesitant smile tugging at his lips. “I… I liked how it felt to have someone else put it on me.”

A sweet, gentle bloom swells up inside you. “I’m glad,” you smile back at San. “I liked practising on you.”

“Maybe,” he starts slowly, giving you a bashful look like he’s embarrassed by what he is about to say next, “maybe we don’t need to be done practising? Do you want to try something else?”

Now there’s an offer you can hardly refuse.

San’s suggestion is a little more complex than a simple restriction of the wrists, so you go and grab him some water while he pulls up a few visual references on his phone to show you what the end-goal looks like. When you step back into the bedroom, San has pulled off his t-shirt, waiting for you with a dimpled smile and his bare upper body at your disposal.

There is always something magnetic about San’s impressive physique; but now the musculature draws you in more than ever, knowing you’ll be working so closely to it, demanding your full attention.

“Show-off,” you mumble, rolling your eyes like you aren’t fighting off heat rising to your cheeks.

“What, want me to put my shirt back on?” San asks, his smile curving into a cocky grin.

“…No.”

With the matter of San’s shirt settled, you sink back into the ropework together.

You get why San likes it. The shared intimacy, drawing closer to one another with every hitch or knot. The focused methodology behind it, how the world seems to disappear into nothing but the rope in your hands and the person you use it on, allowing all else to fade from your mind. You’ve always felt there is something meditative about the act of being tied up, but now you realise the reversal is also true.

After all your previous practising, you start to fall into a trained rhythm; you used to get frustrated with your own clumsiness, but now your fingers mostly remember what they are supposed to do.

Still, this new endeavour is a little trickier than a simple cuff around the wrists and so San speaks up more often, guiding you through the steps;

“Careful with placement, we don’t want to pinch anything here. Yes, yes that’s good, Pull the pressure down, we’re always going down the arm. That’s it, you got it. Little tighter. Yep, little more. Don’t be scared the cinch is too much, I’ll tell you if there’s a problem.”

A few simple lines of rope are laid around the width of San’s upper torso, hugging his pecs and providing a basis for you to work a ladder tie down the length of his arm. As you relax into the looping pattern, so does San. He falls quiet again, drawing deep, slow breaths as he intently follows the movement of your hands, his eyes gleaming with cat-like curiosity.

When you finish the first of San’s arms, tying the last hitch above his wrist and locking off the rope, you draw back a little to fully take in the result.

It’s interesting; bondage often has a way of making Wooyoung look smaller than he is, like all his boundless energy is snugly contained within the corded restraints. But for San, it’s the polar opposite.

The shibari accentuates the broadness of his chest and shoulders; his muscles bulge under the looping pattern whenever he moves, like he is bursting at the seams. Heated pressure builds in your abdomen at the sight of him, then your eyes wander down to San’s wrist.

There’s a fair bit of tail end to the rope, dangling down his wrist as leftover after that last hitch — and you’d worried it would take away from the aesthetics of the shibari, but instead the length of rope lures you in, whispering for you to grab the end and pull, tugging San closer to you. To test the power he emits; whether he would submit regardless of physical strength.

“Still got another arm to go,” San reminds you, a teasing glint in his eyes at how distracted you are by his appearance. But his voice is low and husky, your distracted state also causing a sharp heat to coil tightly inside him.

Though you still make sure to be safe and precise, the brush of your fingers over San’s other arm is not as relaxed this time around.

The heat radiating from his skin somehow feels warmer than before, his gaze burning into your hands as you work. San’s breaths grow heavier with every corded loop around his arm, and he is visibly antsy by the time you finish up at his wrist — and now you don’t resist your earlier urges. With a playful grin, you take both ends of the rope in your hands and give them a soft tug, just to tease.

San grunts as you pull him in closer, fiery intensity crackling around him, and the grin is wiped right off your face when he bites his lip, hooded eyes piercing straight through you.

“Fuck,” you breathe, shifting your thighs and all too aware of the wetness gathering between them, “Wooyoung’d go crazy if he saw you right now.”

(You distantly wonder what time it is; how much longer until Wooyoung steps back out that cinema. There’s decent odds he’ll head straight home, knowing you and San are practising without him.)

San’s lips curve sharply. “Yeah? I look hot like this?” he baits.

“Ugh, you are so needy,” you say, but the flustered laugh in your voice belies the reprimand. “Yes, you look good. Wooyoung would fold within the blink of an eye.” (You would fold even faster.) “He better get home soon, he’s gonna be so fucking upset if he misses out on this.”

“Serves him right for being such a damn brat lately,” San huffs, though there is an eager twinkle in his eyes.

“Don’t be like that!” You shake your head with another laugh, then move off the bed and beckon San onto his feet. “Come, see for yourself how hot you look.”

Still holding onto the rope-ends at San’s wrists, you lead him towards the mirror, and San follows with a slow smile. He barely even spares his own reflection a glance, too distracted by your hands, the subtle control emitted by your loose grip on the rope.

His fingers twitch, and then San catches you by surprise by yanking his own hands back, throwing you off balance. You release the rope with a squeak and stumble forward — but before you can bump into San, his hands find your hips and you let out a soft ‘umph’ as he pins you against the wall, the mirror now completely ignored.

“Don’t need to see,” San breathes, his chest pressing up against yours. “Can tell plain as day from your reaction.” Even through your clothes you can feel the press of rope and warmth radiating off of him. It’s like you’re caged in by a wall of heat, his fingers solidly pressing into your waist. San leans in, the tip of his nose brushing against yours as his gaze flutters down to your lips, his head tilting ever so slightly. The intent to kiss is more than obvious, but San waits, leaving that final step to you.

Your head is in a daze, still a little stunned from the sudden switch-up. Then again, it’s not like you didn’t notice how worked up San got from this little experiment — hell, the dampness already soaking through your panties is proof you’ve gotten plenty worked up yourself.

“Yes,” you gasp in answer to his silent question. You can’t remember raising your hand, but suddenly your fingers are tangled into San’s hair and you pull him forward, bridging that tiny gap between your mouths.

He groans lowly, his tongue instantly probing to tease your lips apart into a messy, urgent kiss. You hang onto San for dear life as he kisses you senseless against the wall, every ounce of pent up energy released all at once. He whines into your mouth when you grab onto his ass, at which he roughly grinds into you, guiding you to hook a leg around his waist. The growing hardness of his cock sends sparks through your clothed cunt, and you rut back into him in equal measure, encouraging more whines past his lips.

San’s hands slip underneath your shirt, only breaking the kiss to quickly discard it, and then he is back on you. He is everywhere it feels like, his touch roaming over your heated body, the cords across his arms and torso grazing over your bra and bare skin. You palm at his chest, at the swell of his tits emphasised by the rope you laid there yourself, thumbing at his dark nipples and delighting in the small, desperate noises San makes against your mouth.

“Can you—?” he groans, plying your neck with wet kisses. “Fuck, please— I— I want—”

“S-slow down, Sannie,” you gasp, putting your hands on his waist to steady the roll of his hips. “What is it? Tell me, tell me what you want.”

He whines into your neck, teeth catching against skin, but the desirous fog lifts slightly from San when you cup his cheek and lift him to meet your gaze. He smiles faintly at the eye-contact, fondness melting into his features. His cheeks are flushed — and you are startled to realise it’s not just from arousal. San is self-conscious.

“Want you to tie me up,” he mutters, his eyes breaking away from yours as he presses a tiny kiss on the corner of your mouth. “Wanna try it again.”

You blink in surprise, backing away from his lips. “Wait, like tied up tied up? San, are you sure?”

San slowly catches his breath, forcing himself to look you in the eye again. “So fucking sure,” he says, his thumbs drawing slow circles into your waist. “Let’s try it, I trust you. …Besides, it’ll keep us busy until Wooyoung gets back, right?”

“God, you are such a softie,” you laugh breathlessly, amused at how quickly he changed his tune about Wooyoung. “What happened to ‘serves him right’? No conviction whatsoever.”

“Yeah,” he grins, giving a slow roll of his hips. “What are you gonna do about it? Teach me some?”

Fuck. Inviting San to take on a more submissive role had not been entirely selfless on your part — you can’t deny your own excitement over this turn of events — but you had offered it with zero pressure; and definitely no expectation that San might take you up on it the very same evening.

“Hang on, Sannie,” you slow him down again, tempering the heat of the moment. You don’t want him barging face-first into something like this without thinking it through. “You really are sure?”

San’s grin fades into something more serious, giving you the distinct impression he started thinking this through ever since you suggested practising on him back at the grocery store. “Yeah. I’m sure if you’re sure,” he says, looking over you for signs of hesitation on your side.

“Oh, I’m sure!” (In your case, you know for a fact you’ve thought this through ever since that conversation.)

“Good,” he says, cheeks dimpling. “I want this. I want to try this with you.”

The persuasive power of San’s dimples is the final nudge that seals the deal. San brightens with delight when you grab his hand and pull him back to the bed, ushering him to lay down. You have a brief talk about the exact whats and hows; but it’s immediately obvious that you’re on the same wavelength.

(But first you send Wooyoung a vague text, implying it’d be better he doesn’t bring Yeosang over to the apartment for drinks after the movie showing, just in case. He replies quickly, leading you to suspect the movie has already finished, and you answer his 👀 with a short but simple “it’s a secret 🤭”. It’s a lot more civilised than the way you and Wooyoung had clued San in a while back, which San points out with a huff, but you gently shush him and set to work.)

San’s breath shallows as you push him flat down on his back, then spread his arms to tie him to the bedposts. His voice slightly hoarse, San talks you through adjusting the ladder-ties over the length of his arms, making sure they’re still comfortable in the changed position, while he follows your every move with soulful eyes, trying not to fidget.

“Relax,” you murmur after you’re finished, stroking San’s cheek to smooth away his jittery energy. “I got you. Gonna take care of you.”

There is a strange hush in the room as San nods quietly in response, his Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows in anticipation. “I know. I’m not nervous,” he says, sighing when you softly kiss his forehead. “I’m just a bit… nervous. But not like that, you know? Like—”

“You know what you are? Rambling,” you laugh fondly, and leave another soft kiss on his lips.

He chuckles back at you, his eyes crinkling. “Sorry.”

“Hm-hm,” you hum, shaking your head. “Don’t be. You’re just really cute today.”

The rosy flush across San’s cheeks intensifies, proving your point.

“And also,” you say, straddling San so you can drape yourself over his prone, helpless body, “hot as fuck.”

He groans when you press your lips against his, tongues intertwining messily as you deepen the kiss. You’re both still partially clothed, but you will rectify that later. Just want to take your time easing San into it first.

Shudders run through him at even the lightest touch, your fingers teasing along the lengths of rope across his torso, delighting in how he arches up to chase you. Soon any remnants of San’s tension have melted away, pleasure rippling through him wherever your hands go.

San whines when your mouth breaks away from his, kiss-swollen lips pouting up at you, but the sound turns into ragged gasps when you suck a wet path down the freckles on his neck. You briefly nip at the mole on his collarbone, then trail further downward.

He hisses a quiet curse as your tongue flicks over a pebbled nipple, your hands grazing so lightly over his stomach that he twitches underneath. The distinct definition of his abs has faded, ever since he switched up his gym routine a while back.

Honestly, you like it this way. You like feeling the softness of him underneath your palms, and what it signifies.

San might be one of those rare types who genuinely enjoys a rigorous workout — but he has complained his fair share about the strife of maintaining a sixpack. Now it’s like he has relaxed a little, prioritising his own preferences over any attempts to impress you or Wooyoung. Trusting that he impresses just by being himself, following his own way.

Small sighs and moans are steadily escaping past San’s lips, his hands clenching and releasing uselessly as he itches to reach out and touch you back. Clearly his nervous-not-nerves have settled… which means you can start teasing him.

“Let’s get these off, shall we,” you demand, tugging at the waistband of his sweats.

San eagerly lifts his hips to help you, exposing his half-hard dick to your touch. Even after all this time, you bite your lip in appreciation at the sight of him, thick and slightly curved, warm but dry in your palm. You lean down, working your jaw for a thick globule of spit to fix that problem. San groans lowly when your fingers curl around the base of his cock and your tongue darts out, slathering him with slow, messy strokes until he is glistening and hard.

You relish San’s hitched breaths, the tilt of his hips as he arches into you. “Ahh fuck, feels good…” he gasps when you lap at his slit, shifting restlessly at your languid pace. He rocks up against your mouth lavishing his hardening cock, trying to convince you to take him inside — but you are in control today, and you have other plans.

San’s hips jerk when your mouth abandons his cock to press a kiss on his thigh, the moan escaping past his lips loud.

“Hm, n-no c’mon, baby—” he whines, hips bucking up as his eyes squeeze shut, a tear clinging to his lashes.

Your eyes widen at the intensity of his response, sending a searing pulse straight down your abdomen. You run a soothing hand over his leg, but the light touch only makes him antsier, body contorting in a desperate attempt to get you back where he needs you. “Fuck, just look at you…” you say in a quiet hush, your thumb rubbing circles over a trio of moles on his inner thigh. “Still doing okay, Sannie?”

The question sobers him up, but only a little, his eyes still dazed with need. “Y-yeah, sorry,” he mumbles, abashed, like he too is surprised by his own intensity.

“Fuck no, don’t be,” you assure him with a breathy chuckle, rubbing your thighs together restlessly in an attempt to relieve your own tension. “I like seeing you like this. Fucking gorgeous.”

The beautiful flush on his face has crept down his neck and chest, giving him a feverish glow. Muscles ripple underneath the rope harness as he squirms against his bound wrists; all his strength rendered useless, caged underneath you.

San groans at the praise, his head falling back against the pillow, eyes squeezing shut like he can’t withstand the force of your reverent gaze — but it doesn’t help him to escape your touch, gentle fingers also expressing their reverence of him as they wrap around his leaking cock again.

Hunger gnaws at you, craving to ravish San until he can’t take it anymore, until he has nothing left to give, every last ounce of pleasure wrested from his body. The glide of your palm over his thick length is easy now, but you keep a deliberate, unhurried pace to slowly drive San up the wall. His small moans and hiccuped breaths send sparks of heat through you. Arousal joined by awe and gratitude; that San lets you see him, have him, like this.

It’s when a lone tear finally escapes San’s lashes that you can’t stand it anymore, breaking away to haphazardly shuck off your clothes. San watches the uncovering of bare skin in a haze, eyes heavy-lidded and his tongue darting out to wet his lips when you smoothly unclip your bra and throw it aside. His hands flex instinctively as you take a moment to knead at your breasts, reminding him of what he can’t touch.

“Please…” San begs, and his eyes glimmer so sweetly that your resolve to tease him crumbles. There is no denying that soft expression.

San lets out a groan of excitement when you shift forward and lean down. Eagerly he latches onto your chest, suckling and nipping at the soft flesh with noisy enthusiasm, lips smacking wetly as he cranes his neck to smother himself between your breasts. You shudder at his fervour, shakily carding your fingers through his hair in encouragement.

“That’s it, there’s a good boy,” you moan. “Making me feel so good, fuck.” You kiss the top of his head, gasping when he mouths harshly at your nipple, growing rough in his sweet worship. It’s a limited window of opportunity you have given him and San uses it with purpose, devouring as much of you as he can.

You indulge him for a moment longer, indulge yourself, until it is time to remind San who is in charge. He whines when you pull away, trying to follow after the softness of your chest — but the ropes binding him to the bedposts pull taut. San groans in exasperation, like he had forgotten his current predicament entirely, too lost in the pleasure of pleasing you.

“N-no, wanna—” he starts, you put a silencing finger on his lips.

“Behave for me, hm? Can you do that?”

San whines, shifting restlessly underneath you, but he slowly quiets down. “I— I’ll behave,” he says, desperation glittering in his gaze as he looks up at you.

“Good,” you hum, pecking his nose before you rise up and settle back down on his thighs.

Already he looks half-way wrecked, his damp hair mussed up and a sheen of sweat gathered on his skin. His cock is flushed a deep, dark red, resting in a wet patch on his stomach where precum oozes from the tip. Just a light touch of your hand is enough to make San hiss sharply, and the tremors through his body are a clear warning sign of how close he is already. Slowly you push him further, pumping him with firm strokes.

San’s hips jerk up before he can catch himself, his resolve to behave immediately tested. He swears under his breath, pitiful moans spilling past his lips as he manages to regain himself — moans that turn absolutely wretched when he sees how your free hand dips down between your thighs.

You sigh blissfully as you push two fingers inside. They’re sucked in so very easily, your cunt sopping wet without a single touch; to play with San like this is already enough. His breath picks up fast, eyes rolling back at the squelching noises from your hands working in tandem. Every heave of his chest is laboured, his back arching up prettily for you as his moans grow in pitch.

“Fuck, baby, I can’t— M-more, need more,” he whines, futilely tugging at the ropes.

“So greedy,” you say, a slow grin on your lips. “Is my hand not enough for you? You need my cunt too?”

San groans, frustrated and desperate. He’s truly feeling that lack of control by now, unable to reach out and grab your waist. Any other day he would bounce you helplessly on his cock or to flip you over entirely, fucking you so deep and hard you feel him for days after.

But right now? San can’t do any of those things. Instead he’s reduced to a powerless sulk, his thighs twitching underneath you. “Unfair,” he mumbles weakly, his bottom lip sticking out petulantly at your refusal to just give him what he wants.

“Unfair? Are you saying I’m a mean dom?” You gasp in faux-affront, releasing his cock to raise your fingers to your lips, smearing them accidentally-on-purpose with the salty glisten of precum.

He whines at the loss of your hand, trying to buck his hips. “J-just wanna be inside you…”

“Ahh… Well, if that is what you want…” you hum, and languidly slide forward to reposition yourself. San chokes on a moan when you hold onto the base of his cock, find the right angle, and then sink down. You suck in a sharp breath at the sudden pressure on your walls, stretching you open; two of your fingers are not quite enough to properly loosen yourself up for the girth of San’s thick length — but you welcome the burn, savour how your body is forced to adjust itself to San, gradually accommodating to the shape of him inside your cunt.

“F-fuck, so tight, so fucking—” San rasps, his hands clenching into fists so tight the knuckles whiten. He twitches inside you, tension pulled so taut that for a moment you think he’s going to cum on the spot, but somehow San pulls himself back from the brink.

“Good boy,” you purr, bracing one hand on San’s flushed, heaving chest so you can use the other to wipe his sweat-matted hair out of his eyes. “Doing so well for me.”

Your fingers trail down the side of his face and to your surprise, San turns his head to suck them into his mouth. He noisily slurps around them with teary eyes, his pleading look shooting straight down to your stuffed cunt. You swallow hard as San’s tongue laves your fingers in wet heat, a messy trail of spittle trickling down his chin when you pull your hand away.

Glistening with San’s saliva, your fingers slide easily through your folds to find your clit. You sigh in bliss as you leisurely rub at the sensitive nub, drinking how San squirms and gasps with every clench around his throbbing cock. His watery eyes are transfixed by the slippery swirl of your fingerpads, unable to look away.

However, even in his hazy state, San quickly realises you’re not actually moving. “H-hey—”

“Uh-uh,” you hum in warning when his hips buck, lightly pinching his nipple. “No rushing things today, Sannie. Thought you wanted me to keep you busy until Wooyoung gets back.”

San groans as he tries to buck again, but unable to get proper leverage. “Baby, we don’t even know when he’s coming home to us,” he whines.

“True, true,” you admit, though your earlier text probably did plenty to sway Wooyoung towards a quick return. “But there’s an easy way to check that.”

You’re careful not to let San slip out of your wet cunt while you reach for your phone, inspired by your recent shenanigans with Wooyoung. But despite being the one who is in the room with you this time, somehow San plays the part of your victim yet again.

San seems to realise the same thing. “You are a mean dom,” he says, an admonishing look on his flushed face. “You better give Woo a hard time, you owe me that mu—”

“You better stay quiet,” you interrupt him with a grin. “What if Yeosang is still there, hm? Wouldn’t want him to overhear anything… untoward.”

He whines again, pulling against his bindings. “Why am I always the one getting bullied?” he protests, like he never bullies you (and especially Wooyoung) when he’s in charge. “You really enjoy tormenting me that much?”

“What I enjoy, is seeing you pout,” you tease him, truthfully, and unlock your phone to call Wooyoung.

San sighs in exasperation, biting his lip to try and rob you of that beloved pout; but he only manages for a split-second before it’s right back on his face. The endearing sight bubbles warmly in your chest, yet the futility of his protest sparks heat between your thighs. As much as you’re trying to draw this all out, you’re slowly losing the battle to sit still on his cock — and the excitement that crackles through you as you wait for Wooyoung to answer his phone doesn’t help.

Wooyoung picks up, and immediately gets down to business. “What’s the secret?” he demands impatiently.

You giggle at his eagerness, deliberately keeping the call off speaker so San only hears your side of the conversation. “Telling you would kinda defeat the point, wouldn’t it? Where are you?”

There’s barely any background noise, leaving you confused over his current location. Wooyoung wouldn’t have picked up this quick if he was still with Yeosang, but clearly he isn’t out on the streets or riding public transportation either.

Wooyoung chuckles. “Where am I? Hmm… it’s a secret.”

He says it with such an air of mystery that you blink and look over your shoulder, half-expecting to see him standing in the doorway — and immediately feel silly when no one’s there, obviously. You would’ve heard Wooyoung’s voice if he was already in the room with you.

“Funny. Is that a ‘I’m five minutes away’ secret or a ‘go to bed without me, we’ll see each other in the morning’ secret?” you ask, squeezing around San just to be a menace. He visibly strains to keep quiet, face contorted as he bites down a whine.

“Oh, we’ll see each other soon I think,” Wooyoung hums, and you faintly hear what sounds like his footsteps through the phone. “So, spill. What is it? Did you finally get a strap?”

“Fuck.” This time, the squeeze of your walls around San’s is entirely involuntary, and a tiny whimper finds its way past his lips.

“Gonna take that as a ‘no’. Also… speaking of where people are, how about Sannie?” Wooyoung asks. (You wonder if he heard the noise.) “Is this secret a solo endeavour or is he around somewhere?”

“He’s… busy,” you grin. You draw a teasing finger over San’s chest, parallel to the lines of his harness. Another whine spills over as he twitches under your touch, like the press of the rope against his skin has made him even more sensitive than usual.

“Even more secrets. Interesting,” Wooyoung muses to himself; but one particular secret is solved when you distantly hear the front door of the apartment open. He giggles when your breath catches, knowing he gave himself away. “See you soon, alright?” he says, and loudly slams the door shut on purpose.

San jerks at the sound, his eyes widening with realisation. He breaths hard underneath you, his cock giving a violent twitch.

“Over here!” you call out to Wooyoung, and San makes a strangled noise. His tearful eyes gleam with anticipation, excitement — and just a hint of those not-nerves again. “Hey,” you say gently and massage his shoulder in reassurance, drawing his attention back to you. “Wooyoung’s gonna lose his mind, seeing you like this. We’re gonna take such good care of you, of our Sannie.”

San nods, managing a few steadying breaths. “Yeah,” he says softly, his smile almost shy. “All yours.”

It’s then, as warmth glows inside your chest at San’s renewed submission, that Wooyoung opens the bedroom door, looking around in search of your ‘secret’. “Okay, so what’s all the fuss abou—” he starts, but then he lays eyes on San, silenced at once.

All words are stolen from Wooyoung’s tongue, unable to do anything but stare at San’s tied up figure. His mouth has gone slack, eyes unblinking as they take in every inch of rope laid across San’s flushed, sweaty skin, emphasising the wideness of his chest and shoulders, and how it tapers down to his narrow waist — down to where you’re settled in San’s lap, keeping his dick warm.

“See,” you grin at San, lightly rocking your hips into him, “told you he’d like it.”

Even the slight motion is enough to make San whimper and arch, biting at his swollen lips. The stretch around his thick cock is so easy and satisfying now, buried snugly inside your cunt like he was made for you, just to stuff you full. The fevered flush on San’s cheeks deepens as he stares right back at Wooyoung, helplessly waiting for his next move.

“I… I knew you guys talked about practising, I didn’t think… Fuck.”

Wooyoung curses lowly, hands shaky as he shrugs off his jacket and lets it drop onto the floor, leaving him in just a loose-fitting tanktop and trousers. He drinks in the sight of you and San as he shifts onto the bed, darkened eyes briefly lingering on the bite-marks San left on your breasts before Wooyoung’s attention flickers back to San himself.

He brushes his hand over the length of San’s arm, his fingertips catching against the ladder-tie fixed around tensed muscles. “Never seen you like this before,” Wooyoung murmurs in quiet wonderment, wetting his lips. “How is it, Sannie? Is she treating you real nice? Are you having fun?”

“She’s mean,” San pouts, but there is a fond gleam hidden in his eyes as he glances at you. “Wouldn’t let me cum until you got here.”

Wooyoung groans deeply at that, clenching his hand around San’s forearm as though to steady himself. He catches you off guard when he suddenly turns his head to capture you in a hard kiss.

You moan in surprise at Wooyoung’s roughness, his self-control already tattered and hanging on by a single frayed thread. It makes your hips roll against San on pure instinct, drawing a broken whine as he clumsily humps upward to meet your slow grind.

“Fuck, that is real nice of you,” Wooyoung grunts against your lips. “Waiting just for me? Don’t know I could’ve been that patient.”

“You definitely couldn’t have,” you giggle, and reluctantly push him away. “But you don’t have to be patient, not today. Go on, give Sannie a kiss too. Enjoy.”

“Oh I will,” Wooyoung says, his voice raspy with excitement.

San makes a noise, muscles tensing as he yanks uselessly at his bound wrists. He looks nothing short of depraved, hair matted with sweat and eyes glassy, chest heaving with laboured breaths. Delectable, served up to Wooyoung on a platter — and Wooyoung is starved.

Obediently he follows your instruction, descending on San’s mouth in a frenzy.

You sigh in satisfaction as San twitches inside your stuffed cunt, your hand returning to your clit. Even just a light graze of your fingers burns through your core while you revel in the sight in front of you, of San keening pitifully as Wooyoung ravishes him.

Both of them are just as needy and desperate as the other; Wooyoung lost in his aggressive greed, San whimpering as he surrenders himself to it. Your breath hitches at the liberal peeks of tongue as their jaws shift, a sloppy tangle that has San panting, drool spilling over onto his chin. Wooyoung laps it all up before sucking San’s tongue into his mouth, his hands starting to wander.

Wooyoung’s fixation on San’s chest is instantly obvious — and all too understandable. He appreciatively tracks his fingers over the lines of rope, then kneads at the firm pecs trapped between them. His trimmed nails dig into San’s skin ever so slightly, only spurred on when San’s gasps into his mouth, writhing against the dual sensations of his throbbing cock engulfed by your wet heat and Wooyoung’s unbridled attentions.

“What do you think, Wooyoungie? Beautiful like this, isn’t he?” you ask, voice a little shaky, but still allowing yourself a moment of pride in your work.

Wooyoung breaks away from San’s lips, a thin thread of spittle briefly connecting them before it snaps.

“Beautiful doesn’t begin to cover it,” he grunts hoarsely. He bends down to suck at San’s tits with the same frenetic fervour he used on San’s mouth; and now San’s unmuffled cries spill freely, every pitched moan searing through your abdomen. San looks on the brink — and honestly, you’re not sure how much longer you can hold off yourself either.

“Fuck, Sannie, I don’t— Fuck—” Wooyoung babbles between sucking marks on San’s chest, just as overwhelmed by the unexpected reversal. “Is— is this okay? W-what can I—?”

You run a soothing hand through Wooyoung’s hair to ground him, massaging the scruff of his neck. “It’s okay, Wooyoungie, just talk to me. What do you want?”

Wooyoung sighs and relaxes at you kneading his tense muscles, taking a few steadying breaths. He then plucks at the rope laid over San’s sternum with a longing glance, playing with how the cord fills the divot between San’s pecs.

“Looks so good like this. K-kinda wish it was me here…” he rasps, stroking his fingers almost in a thrusting motion along the length of rope, “…me fucking these pretty tits.”

You never even get the chance to check in with San, or to consider the logistics of removing this part of the harness without needing to dismantle the entire thing. No, San is way ahead of you on both counts.

“Cut it. Cut away the rope,” he blurts out immediately, jutting his chin at the safety shears lying on the nightstand.

Wooyoung giggles at San’s urgency, reaching for the scissors. “So generous. I’ll buy you some new rope then,” he coos, wiggling two fingers under the cord to lift it up. “Fuck, but aren’t you eager to get used today, all of a sudden. What brought this on, hm?”

The concern behind Wooyoung’s question is subtle, hidden under a thick fog of arousal, but neither you nor San miss it. San lets out a breathy, self-conscious laugh at Wooyoung’s valid assumption that San might be less than alright if he is willing to submit.

“Nothing,” he says, shuddering as the blunt side of the shears brushes over his skin. “Nothing happened. I… I just wanted this.”

His chest puffs up a little, like he’s proud of himself for the admission. (You definitely are.)

“We talked,” you add, toying with the wide strap of Wooyoung’s tanktop, half-distracted by a glimpse of his collarbone, “and San decided he wanted to try something new.”

The tension on the harness loosens as Wooyoung frees up the space for him to use, causing a slight slack to the ladder pattern on San’s arms; but they stay in place. “Hm, so I have you to thank for this little surprise? You talked Sannie into this?”

“Don’t give me too much credit,” you grin, patting San’s side. “Didn’t take much convincing.”

“N-no, you can take a little credit,” San mumbles, almost a little drunkenly as he strains to stay still, slowly looking back-and-forth between you and Wooyoung.

Something passes over Wooyoung’s face as the sharp heat in his gaze momentarily softens. He turns to you and brushes his knuckles over your cheek, then presses a deceptively chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth. “Thank you,” he says quietly, before a teasing glint returns to his eyes. “I’ll make good use of it.”

“You better, yeah,” you tease, ignoring how Wooyoung’s sudden moment of softness threatens to throw you off balance. “Sannie was real excited for you to join us.”

Wooyoung hums in acknowledgement, discarding the remainder of his clothes. As he does so, he intently eyes the rise and fall of San’s chest at first, but then his eyes wander back between your thighs, where San’s dick disappears inside your sopping cunt.

“Can I?” Wooyoung asks, but doesn’t wait for answer before he runs two fingers through your drenched folds, holding the digits in a v-shape to press around the base of San’s cock. He grins at the way you and San both jerk at his touch, drinking in every moan as he leisurely swipes at your slick.

“F-fuck, Wooyoungie—” you whine, your hand clamping around his shoulder.

His eyes widen when he realises just how close you are, lips spreading into a filthy grin. “Yeah? Gonna give me a little more? Give me enough to lube up Sannie’s fat tits?” he rasps, stroking his fingers with more purpose. “C’mon baby, get it real nice and sloppy for me.”

You hiss another curse, your hips picking up speed when Wooyoung’s thumb finds your clit, right as he lazily mouths at your neck. You’re losing yourself in a clouded frenzy, wantonly gyrating against Wooyoung’s fingers and San’s cock; no longer satisfied with San just filling up your cunt, but finally using him to fuck yourself in earnest.

You’ve held back for so long, but now pure desperation hits you all at once. You have to cum, to find a release to the pressure that’s been building all night from the very moment you and San started your innocuous ‘practice’ session, like neither of you had been fantasising about this very scenario. Your breathless moans mingle with San’s choked gasp as your reckless chase for relief inadvertently sends sends him down a delirious spiral.

San’s head falls back against the pillow as he cries out, struggling against the ropes and bucking clumsily up into your cunt, sliding against Wooyoung’s fingers. Tears mingle with sweat on San’s cheeks, his whines catching in his throat when you clench around him tighter than ever before.

You can’t help it, not when Wooyoung bites and sucks at your neck, every nerve ending in your body going haywire as his thumb never lets up on your clit no matter how you twist and squirm.

“P-please,” San gasps, trembling helplessly. “Please, I- I—”

“What is it, Sannie? Too much? Not enough?” Wooyoung grins when San whimpers at the latter question, bucking his hips again. “So greedy. How about you, baby?” he asks you, licking his lips. “Want more too?”

You groan when Wooyoung stops moving his fingers, instinctively burrowing a hand in his hair, tugging impatiently at the long dark strands. “Fuck, don’t stop now, close, so close, Woo,” you babble mindlessly. “Yes yes want more, fuck—!”

Your throat closes up with a high-pitched keen when Wooyoung does exactly what you asked for; giving you more.

Just like that, his index finger slides into your cunt, snugly pressed between your walls and San’s cock. You mewl at the added stretch, a not completely unfamiliar burn but still overwhelming as you rush towards the precipice at break-neck speed. Your vision whites out as you convulse, struggling to stay upright as electrified pleasure surges through you in waves. It’s not until the first wave passes that you realise Wooyoung has worked a second finger in there, snapping his wrist and dragging San right down with you.

“Feels good, Sannie?” Wooyoung asks, grinning as your slick gushes over his fingers. “Is that what you wanted? Me next to you in that tight pussy, fucking our good girl together?”

San sobs brokenly, beautifully, powerless as he becomes undone underneath you, painting your fluttering walls with thick, heavy spurts of hot seed. His bottom lip is raw from his teeth, but still he bites down another whimper when your cunt clamps so tightly from an intense aftershock that you can’t help but push him out no matter how you try to keep him inside.

Wooyoung groans in delight at the view of San’s cum leaking out of your weeping hole, right on his fingers. He gathers as much as he can while you slump off on the side, trying and failing to catch your breath.

“Yeah, I think this will do just fine,” he chuckles darkly, and smears his slicked-up fingers between San’s pecs. He even works up some saliva to crudely spit onto San’s glistening skin, all shiny and slippery.

Antsy from waiting, Wooyoung straddles San and roughly grabs two handfuls of his tits to press together, creating a nice crevice for Wooyoung to fuck into. You kneel next to San, giving yourself a perfect view of what’s about to happen. One of your hands trails back between your legs, while the other rests on San’s thigh to ground him, your nails gently grazing over the sensitive muscle.

San whines, arching his back to meet Wooyoung’s flushed cock, its darkened tip leaking precum already. It only adds to the easy slide; an obscene mixture of fluids pooling in the shallow valley between San’s firm, pillowy pecs, causing a wet smacking sound with every snap of Wooyoung’s hips.

“Oh fuck, that feels good,” Wooyoung groans, his eyes fluttering shut. He sinks into the rhythm, soaking up the lewd squelches and San’s soft moans.

Your fingers slowly circle around your swollen, tender clit while you watch in a daze how Wooyoung’s dick slides between San’s cleavage with fluid strokes. Wooyoung draws deep, raspy breaths as he tries to stop himself from unravelling too fast, desperate to savour this moment. San’s chest heaves against the weight of Wooyoung’s cock, sweat dripping down his forehead and tongue lolling out of his mouth.

San whimpers when you reach behind Wooyoung to wrap a hand around his softening cock. The touch is gentle at first, almost absentminded while you watch them intently, but your hand gradually picks up speed as San’s moans get louder, needier. Pleasure buzzes through your worn-out body while San’s dick plumps back up in your palm.

San is totally gone at this point, using his last shreds of cognition to crane his neck, trying to catch his tongue against the tip of Wooyoung’s cock with every thrust. Wooyoung lets out a strained giggle of delight at San’s mindless instinct to please, and he pushes forward with deeper strokes to give San a taste of salty precum, mingled with the other bodily fluids gathered on San’s chest.

Wooyoung readjusts his grip so he can thumb at San’s nipples, grinning fiendishly when San whines loudly, fresh tears welling up in his eyes. “So you enjoy this sort of thing, huh?” Wooyoung teases, grunting between thrusts as his pace picks up. The air is filled with the heady, lewd squelch of his cock pushing air between San’s cleavage. “Didn’t expect to ever see you tied up like this. Do you like it, Sannie? Us having our way with you, and nothing you can do about it. Just have to lie there and take it.”

“Y-yeah,” San hiccups, struggling for words while your fist twists around his cockhead with every pass of your hand over his length. “F-fuck, I do, I like it Youngie…”

San’s meek submission flares through your aching cunt — and for Wooyoung, it proves too much to handle. His voice cracks as he doubles over with high-pitched gasps, hips stuttering as he spills on San’s chest, some splatters reaching up to his neck and face.

Wooyoung barely gives himself a chance to catch his breath before he’s bent over San, his tongue laving over the sticky mess on San’s defiled chest.

San lets out a weak moan at Wooyoung’s greedy, suckling mouth, his own tongue darting out to catch a drop of cum on the corner of his lips. It’s decadent, filthy, and you’re drawn closer into their orbit of debauchery with every wet smack of Wooyoung’s mouth, every moan wrested from San’s lips.

Finally you can’t stand it anymore, abandoning your clit to lay on your side. Half-draped over San, you suck at the splatters of cum covering his freckled neck, pumping his cock quicker. The motion catches Wooyoung’s attention and he glances up at your hand around San’s dick, his dark eyes clouded over, mouth and chin shiny with fluids.

“F-fuck, please I can’t—” San whines, trembling uncontrollably. “Baby, I-I’m gonna—”

“Give it to me,” Wooyoung cuts through San’s babbling, his voice hoarse. He rests his cheek on San’s saliva-glistening chest, tongue resting on his bottom lip in invitation.

San’s moans go up in pitch, fighting for breath as you twist and squeeze at his cock with confident familiarity, knowing exactly what he needs to fall apart. He does just so, whining, spilling his load messily over Wooyoung’s face; not as much as the first time, but enough to paint Wooyoung’s tongue white, even with the stray splatters that get on his face and in his hair.

Wooyoung closes his lips with a mischievous grin, but he does not swallow. Instead he turns to you with a dark look, half-crawling over San to grab at the soft meat of your thigh.

Impatiently he pushes you onto your back and spreads your legs, then latches onto you. You cry out, yanking at Wooyoung’s hair as he crudely tongue-fucks your cunt, pushing San’s cum inside you. His fingers dig into your hips, encouraging you to grind freely against his face.

Already close from earlier, it does not take much for the orgasm lurking in the shadows to coil around you with hot tendrils, tightly until finally the pressure snaps. You spasm and mewl, desperately grabbing onto San’s arm as you clamp around Wooyoung’s tongue with a throttled moan.

Wooyoung makes a pleased noise, nudging his nose against your clit while you ride it out; chasing every spark jolting through your core. Weakly you run a hand through Wooyoung’s hair, holding him close as he gently sucks at your folds, drawing out the aftermath until finally you slump down.

As your hold on him loosens, Wooyoung presses a final, tender kiss on your soft thigh. Slowly he withdraws, then sits up and to face San, who lays on the bed worn-out and wrecked in all the best ways.

“That was… different,” Wooyoung says with a faint grin, cupping San’s puffy cheeks to brush away a few lingering tears with his thumbs. “You okay, Sannie? Fuck, you did amazing.”

San answers with a soft hum, tiredly grinning back at Wooyoung. “Different, yeah. Good different. I’m good,” he sighs, glancing at you with a tender gleam in his eyes.

You fondly run a hand through his hair. “I’m glad,” you say in a quiet hush, feeling an odd relief at San’s words. Like a preemptive strike at any uncertainties that could have nagged at you later.

Carefully, you undo the knot around one of his wrists and Wooyoung takes your cue, reaching for San’s other arm. Together you release him from the bindings and the remainder of the cut harness. San is content to just let it happen, to let your care wash over him as you check him for abrasions and massage any stiffness out of his arms.

“How about you?” Wooyoung asks you, squeezing at your waist while San munches on an energy bar. “You okay?”

His concern seeps warmly through the exhaustion that’s settling in your bones. “Hm. Tired,” you mumble, though you manage a smile. It’s not bad, just more than you expected.

San immediately stretches his arms out to you. “Cuddle,” he pouts bossily; a mutually beneficial demand.

You give into his demand without second thought, happy to snuggle up against his chest (which is no longer stained with bodily fluids after Wooyoung cleaned him with some wet-wipes).

“Better?” San asks, rubbing his nose into your hair.

You giggle at the way San can’t help but take charge again, even if it’s just during the aftercare. “Yeah,” you sigh contently, and give Wooyoung a thankful look when he drapes a blanket over you before joining the cuddle himself.

You drift into a cosy bubble of entangled bodies and lazy chatter, a fuzzy warmth settling in, like you could doze off into sleep any moment. You're tempted to let it take you, to at least get a little nap in before you return to the comfort of your own bed — and really, you can find no reason not to.

Wrapped up in the safety of San and Wooyoung, you let your eyes flutter shut for a while, accompanied by their hushed voices and laughs.

Their voices are still there when you wake again later, along with two hands softly grazing over your arm and waist. You join their talk for a while, sleep-drunk from the nap, but then decide to go sleep for real before your brain wakes up too much. San gives you another pout as you untangle from his hold, while Wooyoung jokingly suggests they come with you, but both are placated when you promise to join them for breakfast tomorrow.

You stick by your promise, padding over to San and Wooyoung’s the next morning in slippers and a comfy bathrobe. It’s just one door away but you still can’t help thinking back on yesterday’s conversation; no longer having to shuffle through the apartment building’s hallway would definitely be an added benefit to a shared home.

Wooyoung is meandering in the kitchen by himself when you come in, no San in sight. You rub your eyes groggily as you look around for him, while joining Wooyoung by the stove. You give him a half back-hug, peeking over his shoulder to identify the origin of tasty smells drifting through their apartment. (Kimchi pancakes and egg dumplings, as it turns out.)

“Hmm, has San left already?” you mumble against Wooyoung’s shoulder. You’ had hoped to see San before work, just to ease that tiny twinge of protectiveness in your chest, to confirm he still felt good after yesterday. “Did he have a good sleep?”

Wooyoung opens his mouth — but before he can get a sound out, you hear the muted sound of the shower turning on from the bathroom.

“He’s here,” Wooyoung says with a sleepy grin, flipping over the pancake effortlessly. He’s wearing an apron, his hair is messily tied up into a half-bun, face slightly puffy from sleep. It’s utterly endearing. He looks away from the pan to glance at you, chuckling when he realises what your question was really about. “San’s doing great,” he assures you. “Way too chipper for this early in the morning, honestly.”

“Good, good,” you hum absentmindedly, nuzzling into Wooyoung’s shoulder. “And you? How are you doing? After last night?”

He blinks in surprise at the question. “Yeah? Yeah,” he says. “Of course.”

You raise an eyebrow, unsatisfied with his vague answer. “…Yeah? We didn’t ambush you too much with the whole thing?”

“Oh, no no!” He quickly shakes his head, but then slows down and sinks into a pensive expression. “Well… No, not an ambush.”

“…But?” you ask, starting to feel uneasy.

Wooyoung chuckles, pinching your cheek. “Hey — don’t stress out, okay? Last night was fucking amazing. I only—”

He sighs and awkwardly rubs the back of his head, before seeming to come to a decision. He slides the crispy pancake onto a preheated plate before turning down the stove, taking a break from cooking. He turns around to lean back against the counter, giving you and the conversation his full attention. You lean next to him, gently bumping your shoulders together.

“In the heat of the moment? No problems. But afterwards, I… I started feeling a little jealous,” Wooyoung says, his face scrunching up as he painstakingly works the admission past his lips. “That you got to tie San up. That he let you tie him up. Not that I ever bothered to ask but…” Wooyoung shrugs, like he’s trying to minimise the emotions behind his words. “…But I never got the feeling San would’ve tried that with just me.

“And I mean, there’s a reason I never asked; it’s not like this is some big secret fantasy I’ve been dying to play out so the whole thing is just stupid to get jealous over, but… yeah. That.”

His ramble trails off awkwardly, but you listened intently to every word, despite struggling a little to take it all in. You did just wake up after all, still shaking off sleep’s lingering hold on your brain. “Wooyoung… It’s not stupid. Not at all,” you say, your hand finding his.

“Sorry,” Wooyoung says with a wry smile, “didn’t mean to dump all that on you before I even got some food in your stomach.”

“It’s fine. I’m glad you told me,” you reassure him, squeezing his hand. “Did you talk to San about this?”

“Oh yeah, Sannie got the late night edition,” Wooyoung chuckles faintly. “But— but the thing is; it was also… nice? Does that even make sense? Like, I loved seeing you two like that together.”

Your brow softens, a pop of warmth bursting in your chest. “You did?”

Wooyoung nods, struggling to meet your eyes. “Yeah. Loved it. I—”

He hesitates again, and you have a sudden suspicion of what sentence he’s hiding behind his lips.

“I love how you took care of him, I love that he let you. Even if it felt complicated. You and San are different than me and San, but… that’s okay, you know? You and me are different too, and I love how we are together,” Wooyoung says, his waterfall of words inching closer and closer to the exact phrasing he is trying to reach.

You swallow thickly, realising what is about to come… and hold tighter onto Wooyoung’s hand, quietly encouraging him.

He glances up tentatively, finally meeting your eyes again — and relaxes into a smile at what he finds there. “Listen,” he continues, a little more confident, “it’s not like I’m interested in what adjective goes before the word. Romantic, platonic, whatever. Who cares. But— but I do love you.”

Wooyoung takes a deep breath, exhaling with audible relief.

“And I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he says, searching your face for any signs of it, “but I also don’t want to lie about this stuff. So… is this okay? Is it okay if I say that? You don’t have to say anything back,” Wooyoung rushes to add. “I know you might not feel the same way. But I’m good with that. I’m good with you liking me in your own way.”

There’s a stubborn lump in your throat that refuses to go away.

You did think those words would make you uncomfortable. You were convinced they would, given your past experiences. You just thought that for Wooyoung, you could sit with that discomfort and let it pass through you. At least this once. But there is no discomfort itching under your skin, no distress pounding in your chest.

Only warmth.

Down to the very core of your being, you know there are no ultimatums hidden behind Wooyoung’s confession. No threat to end things if your response does not meet his expectations, if what you can give him in return isn’t enough. Whatever you’ll say, he has already decided that it is. That you are enough. Just as you are.

“Well… I did tell you to stop assuming I’ll bolt at the tiniest hint of commitment,” you tease, though your voice is a little thick. (Somewhere in the background, you vaguely register that the shower in the bathroom has turned off.)

“You did, yeah,” Wooyoung giggles, lightly elbowing you in the side. His shoulders look much lighter now. “No take backsies.”

You shake your head. “Wasn’t planning on it. Yeah,” you hum. “Yeah, it’s okay if you say that. More than okay. I… I’m happy.”

Wooyoung’s eyes scrunch up as his smile widens. The force of it is breathtaking.

“Is— is this something recent? You haven’t been stressing out about this talk, have you?” you ask, fidgeting a little. You hate the idea that he might’ve been sitting with this for who knows how long.

Wooyoung scoffs a laugh. “What? No way. You know me, right? Bottling up feelings is not my style. I leave that up to you and Sannie.”

You snort at the lighthearted dig, whapping Wooyoung on the arm. “Hey, that’s slander! Blatant character assassination! Who is the one who brought up moving in together?”

“Okay fine, fine, I’ll let you have that one,” he sighs dramatically. “But you gotta admit I’m the load-bearing pillar in this trio. It’s a fate I’ve accepted long ago.”

His dramatics make you laugh, but honestly? There is truth in it. Wooyoung has always been the most pro-active between the three of you, the most forthright about his wants and needs. Hell, without Wooyoung, you and San never would’ve reached a place for him to be jealous of.

You always liked San, ever since he moved in next-door, but it was Wooyoung who forcibly dragged you two closer into each others’ orbit. With no Wooyoung, you’d have lived complacently as neighbours, your friendship superficial, until one of you moved out again, never to see each other again. Never sticking your head out to explore what else there could be between you.

The morning hush settles back into the kitchen as you lean against Wooyoung, loosely wrapping your arms around his. “Thank you,” you murmur, rubbing your cheek against his shoulder. “I’ll try to carry my weight more often.”

Wooyoung blinks, a little surprised at your sincere reaction to his joke, but then he softens into a smile and leans back into you. “You’re welcome,” he murmurs back. “But don’t go carrying too much, alright? Can’t have me becoming redundant.”

“Pff, never. Idiot,” you snort, squeezing his arm. “Besides, what if you did? It’s not like we’d ditch you or anything. San and I don’t keep you around just because we’d crumble without you.”

That’s how San walks in to find you and Wooyoung, just living in a moment of quiet. His hair is still damp from the shower, a towel around his shoulders to catch the last few drops clinging to wet tendrils.

San’s eyes lightens up when he sees you’re here, quickly walking over joining you. He briefly raises an eyebrow when he notes the one singular pancake that’s getting cold, but decides to ignore it, leaning against the kitchen counter next to Wooyoung instead. He drapes an arm over Wooyoung’s shoulder, his warm hand coming to rest high between your shoulder-blades.

“So,” San says, a cute little smile tugging on his lips as he looks at Wooyoung. “You talked to her? Said what you wanted to say?”

Wooyoung grins back at him. “Yeah. We talked.”

“Good,” San says softly, his fingers trailing up to knead the nape of your neck. “That’s really good.”

Wooyoung lets out a loud sigh, shaking his head. “You know what isn’t good?” he says, looking from you to San. “That we’re all standing around here getting hungry. C’mon, get off me, let me get to it. Someone has to keep you two fed.”

He abruptly shakes himself loose and turns back to his pancake better, causing you and San to make noises of surprise — but then you grin mischievously at the sight of him diligently making breakfast for three. “See? That’s why you’ll never be redundant. Indispensable, that’s what you are.”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “Helpless without me, that’s what you are,” he shoots back, but the corners of his mouth are fighting a losing battle against the wide, shy smile creeping up his lips.

You catch San’s eye while Wooyoung continues his cooking, suddenly feeling oddly shy. “You had a good sleep?”

“Yeah,” he says quietly, struck by the same shyness. “Really good.”

A faint heat creeps under your skin as you reminisce on last night’s events; the trust San showed in you, the sight of him tied up on the bed, helpless while you and Wooyoung ravished him, how noisy he’d gotten—

Oh. Noise.

A whole other sort of heat flushes through you when a different memory of yesterday floods through your system. “D-do you think we ought to send Mrs Yoon flowers or something?” you say, grimacing at San. “Fruit basket? Chocolates?”

San’s drowsy smile is knocked right off his face as he freezes, cheeks going crimson with embarrassment. “Oh god,” he groans, hiding his face behind his hand. “Y-yeah. Maybe we should.”

Wooyoung takes his attention off the pan, blinking at you and San in confusion. “Hm? Mrs Yoon? What about her?” he says, blissfully oblivious. “Is she sick? I can get her some flowers from work, sure. Do we need to write her a card too?”

[bwabys-scenarios]

Adoration or Obsession?

Yandere!Kurapika x Fem!Reader

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

warnings: mentions of past choking, Kurapika is pretty unstable and clingy, possessive/obsessive behavior

A/N: this is based off of this ask, so if you want context, go read that first!! Just wanted to show the aftermath of that situation, because Kurapika is very intent on trying to make it up to you… he just loves you :(

‼️If you want to be added to the taglist, I have three. SFW, NSFW, and YANDERE. Just reply with which one/s you want.‼️

YANDERE TAGLIST: @adissonsss @lightshowerrr

Kurapika had been a bit distant after the incident at first, avoiding you unless it he needed to tend to your injuries. It seemed his rational side was trying to tell him to give you space to recover, to heal without him breathing down your neck…

But you wouldn’t be there, stuck in his home against your wishes if Kurapika always listened to his rational side.

So in the middle of the night, just two days after ‘the incident’s you could the empty side of your bed sink under someone’s weight, and soon after hands wrapped around your waist, pulling your back flush against a warm chest.

“I’m so sorry…”

You knew it was Kurapika who had entered your bed, but you hadn’t expected to feel tears soaking into your shirt and neck as he clung to you tightly. “So sorry, my angel… I knew you were just saying those things out of frustration, and yet…”

You could feel his arms stiffen when your breath hitched slightly as he kissed your neck. The bruises he left were still tender, every touch making you writhe in pain.

“F-fuck, it hurts doesn’t it? Oh my love…”

His grip tightened, and he wrapped his legs around you, clinging to you for dear life. Before he kidnapped you, Kurapika had been your dear friend, someone you loved with your entire heart. You knew how terrified he was to lose you, the last person he had.

And the knowledge that he could have been the very one to take your life away had him shaking in both anger and fear. He had taken you away for a reason, to keep you safe from those who wished to harm you.

And yet he had been the one putting his hands on you, someone he had dedicated his life to protecting. He still couldn’t get the sound of you choking out of his mind, the sight of the light starting to leave your eyes as you stopped fighting him.

He still had claw marks on his hands from your desperate attempts to survive. Kurapika would have a constant reminder of his actions, of what he did to you, his beloved.

“Kurapika…”

His attention was drawn to you when you spoke up, your voice soft and hoarse due to your injuries. “Yes, my love?”

“I’m… I’m sorry…”

Kurapika went deadly silent. The fear in your shaky voice was enough to tear his heart into millions of pieces. He had never wanted you to fear him, Kurapika wanted you to love and need him more than anything.

“No, no no no… don’t apologize, shh… I know you didn’t mean it, I shouldn’t have… I…”

He started to choke up, his heart racing and his eyes scarlet as he remembered seeing your nen energy growing weaker.

You weren’t a nen user, you could t control it like he could, and you were going to die. Kurapika had nearly killed you. If he hadn’t of snapped out of it in that moment and let you go so you could breathe, you would be dead.

“You’re… you’re fine. You’re with me, everything is okay.” Kurapika said, trying to reassure himself more than anything. He began to rock you back and forth, cooing softly as he pressed kisses into your cheeks and temple.

“You’re mine, and I’ll take care of you. I would… I will never hurt you again. Ever.”

Though a bit afraid, you were able to fall asleep soon enough from the gentle rocking. It helped that he was using his nen to help ease the pain in your neck, healing it slowly, day by day.

When you woke up, Kurapika was awake, bags under his eyes as he watched you. His hands were petting you, caressing your face and running over your hair. “You’re awake…”

He sighed in relief, relaxing against the bed. You rubbed your eyes, and noticed his were red and puffy from crying. Kurapika just looked exhausted overall.

“Did you… sleep?”

He looked away from you, his thumb rubbing against your cheek. “… a little. But…”

Kurapika couldn’t sleep much, worrying that somehow you would die in the middle of the night. So he stayed up, watching over you until you woke up.

“… I need a shower…”

You sat up and walked towards the bathroom door, a bit disturbed when he followed you. “Um…”

“Shh…”

He walked in with you, turning on the shower and grabbing you a towel. “I… won’t look. But I’m staying in here while you shower.”

His words left no room for arguing, so you undressed and got into the shower. You were too tired to complain, and too afraid of what he might do if you asked him to leave. You could tell he was unstable now, and you couldn’t predict what he was thinking or going to do when he was like this.

And it scared you.

Kurapika knew he was being clingy and selfish, but he just couldn’t shake the fear that if he left you alone for even a second, something bad would happen.

As soon as you were dressed, he was back to clinging to you. Before he had taken you away, when the two of you were madly in love, you would have been incredibly happy to have all of his attention on you.

But now all you wanted was to be left alone. He was smothering you, keeping your body flush against his as he breathed in the smell of your shampoo.

He just wanted to know that you were still here… that you were still all his.

Kurapika wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on the top of your head. “… I’m sorry, (Name).”

You didn’t respond, simply holding onto his shirt.

“I’m sorry I can’t love you like a normal man could. You’d probably be much happier with someone that didn’t keep you locked up in a cage like some sort of exotic animal. Someone that wasn’t so scared to lose you that he hurt you himself…”

He held onto you so tight you winced.

“But I’m selfish.”

Tears dropped onto your head, and he choked up. “I’m so selfish (Name), and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry… I’ll never be able to let you go.”

You weren’t really sure how to feel. On one hand, there was a time where you had loved Kurapika more than anything… but on the other, he was now your captor, keeping you from being free.

Still… you buried your face into his neck. Even captive birds wanted their owner’s comfort sometimes, and they even could give some comfort back.

“Don’t cry… let’s… just go back to bed.”

Despite the fact it was early morning, he didn’t protest, carrying you back to bed and pulling the blanket over your bodies.

“I love you…”

The words were soft, full of affection and a hint of guilt, as if his love was something shameful and scary. You nodded, laying you head against his chest as he held you tightly.

“Love you too…”

[gosmigenergy]

KINKTOBER 2024 / Day Two

EDGE PLAY / LOVE BITES / TERATOPHILIA (@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction)

Starring: Benny Miller x F!Reader

Summary: There was only one problem you’d discovered about dating Benny Miller and that was that he loved to give you hickeys.

Rating: Fluff

Warnings: Marking, pet names, no use of Y/N, language, mentions of food/eating.

Word Count: 1.2k

There was only one problem you’d discovered about dating Benny Miller and that was that he loved to give you hickeys.

The act was cute at first, it was like being back in high school, a form of childish affection that proved that someone liked you enough to leave a mark for everyone to see. He would always give you one on the crook of your neck, occasionally on the side and in the summer months, he would place a hickey on your shoulder.

During the colder season, you’d happily allow him to decorate your inner thighs, your hips, your stomach. He’d suckle on your skin with accurate precision and you’d gladly wear them, safe in the knowledge that no one would know.

“Benny, did you have to make it so obvious?”

You angled your head so you could get a better view of the mark developing on your neck, front and centre. Eyebrows furrowing, you questioned whether you’d be able to cover it with your concealer.

“I just want everyone to know you’re mine.”

You grumble as he envelopes you, squeezing at his elbows to bring you closer before planting a soft kiss to your temple. Looking at him in the mirror, you watch as his eyelids grow heavy, the tip of his nose pushing into your hair as he breaths you in.

“I hate you.”

Craning his neck back, he peeks at your reflection.

“No, you don’t,” he swiftly kisses your cheek, unraveling himself from you. “I gotta go.”

Where he was going was obvious, the gym branded logo on his loose vest gave it away. He readjusted his cap as he walked, snatching up the last few things he needed from the bedroom with one last look at you.

“See you tonight,” he called from the hallway as he left.

“Have a good session!”

There was a slam that rattled the living room of your apartment, something light definitely falling over but you focused back on the love bite. Dabbing a bit of concealer, you gently rub it into your skin.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.”

You spent the day tactfully covering up your mark. At the office, you continuously rested your chin on your palm, your arm strategically placed in front of your neck. The only person to notice was the barista who made your lunchtime latte whose eyebrows quirked when he looked at you for far too long. You snatched your drink from his hand and hightailed it back to work, hiding in your walled cubicle to plot your revenge.

Benny came to find you when he heard the door.

“Hey, baby, how was your day?”

He takes your face in his hands and starts to smother you in kisses.

“Fine,” you say with a sigh, “other than the fact I had to cover the massive hickey on my neck.”

He froze, “You’re mad?”

“A little.”

“Didn’t you tr—“

“Uh-huh.”

“And it didn’t —“

“Nope.”

“Did your boss —“

“No, thank good.”

“I’m sorry,” he ran his thumbs back and forth. “How can I make it up to you?”

You grab his wrists, “Tell me you’ve made dinner.”

He made you his signature loaded fries even though it pained him. Benny had been surviving on meat and veg for what felt like weeks, mostly in preparation for his first fight of the month. You admired his dedication but felt his eyes on you as you delved your fork into every ingredient, moving to the opposite sofa to ensure he resisted.

“I thought you would have saved loaded fries for the weekend.”

“I could have but I’m planning on going to all you can eat.”

“Where’s my invite?”

You pout jokingly.

“You’re quite welcome to join us,” he says, throwing an arm out so you can tuck snuggly into his chest. “We’d love to have you.”

Him and the boys always followed the same post-fight ritual.

Benny chooses the restaurant, Will comes and picks him up, Santiago and Frankie meet them there. The majority of the time, they just have a couple of drinks, eat a load of good food before he returns home. There was once where Will carried Benny through the door because he somehow had too many but you never probed any further.

You didn’t need to.

“I wouldn’t want to step on your toes.”

He chuckles, the vibration running through his chest underneath your palm.

“I’d move them out the way before you had the chance.”

You smile sweetly up at him, see his free hand move out of the corner of your eye. He brings his index finger and thumb to your chin, craning your neck further so he can inspect the blooming love bite.

When his eyes narrow, a shiver travels quickly down your spine.

“What?”

Your single word query is breathy.

He tilts your head from side to side, honing in on the open canvas.

“Maybe I should give you another one… or two.”

Though you were cursing him for the idea, your pussy was saying something else, clenching helplessly around nothing. You whine as you think about where you put that high neckline top in your wardrobe.

He cocks his head to one side, “Would you like that?”

“Not really,” you answer in a nervous giggle.

His smile curls further, he loved how on edge he could get you when he was playing with you. Your whole body was becoming rigid, your throat bobbing as you swallowed and you looked up at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

He had to keep his composure, he couldn’t let you break him.

His tongue flicked over his lips, glossing their pink hue and your heart starts to race. As he begins to lean down, you place a hand to his chest in an attempt to push yourself back. He firmly locks his hand around your jaw, slowly coming closer to the right side and you put as much effort as you can to get away.

“No, Benny!”

You manage to get your legs out from underneath you but when you place your feet on the floor, he uses his weight to bring your back to the couch. You release a sweet grunt as he gently pins your legs down with one of his, squeezing your face slightly tighter.

“Stay still,” he growls.

Immediately, you swat his chest repeatedly as a last stitched attempt to get him away from you, it doesn’t even hurt. What hurt was when you stuck your palm right in his face, your fingernails grazing his nostrils as he battled against you.

His other hand flies to your wrists and holds them steady, moving them a fraction so he can get to you.

You mewl as his hot breath trickles down the slope of your neck, his slicked back hair falling onto your delicate cheek.

His next move is swift, the sudden sensation of his lips against your skin, teeth scraping the surface. He soothes with his tongue before he buries himself into the crook of your neck and suckles.

You melt, sinking deeper into the couch with a honeyed sigh.

There was a twitch in his lips where he wanted to smile. Under his grip, he feels your wrist loosen and as he lets go of the other. Your head falls to meet his, your jawline lining his crown, your breath teasing his hair as he goes in for more.

Sure, Benny giving love bites was a problem but it was a good fucking problem to have.

[frostdayz]

Sweet distractions

Loki x Reader

genre: FLUFF!!!

summary: Loki is trying to read in the library but is easily distracted.

note: can you tell I love Loki fluff. Next post will probably be an enemies to lovers but not sure yet. Anyways i hope you enjoy :)

my stories never really describe the readers gender so unless stated otherwise all my stories are gn!!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The grand library of Asgard was as silent as ever, a vast expanse of ancient knowledge stretching before me. In the far corner, bathed in the warm light from a floating lantern, Loki sat with his nose buried deep in a thick, leather-bound book. He looked so serious, so focused, and that mischievous spark in my heart couldn't resist the temptation.

Quietly, I padded into the library, careful not to make a sound. My gaze fixed on Loki's back, his dark hair brushing the edges of his emerald-green cloak. He hadn’t noticed me yet—perfect.

Tiptoeing closer, I suppressed a giggle as I slid into the chair beside him. For a moment, I simply watched him, his eyes darting across the pages, brow furrowed in concentration. Then, without warning, I reached out and flicked the corner of his book.

He barely flinched, but the tiniest smile tugged at his lips. "You know," he said, voice low and smooth, "I’m trying to focus."

"Oh, I know," I replied, leaning in closer. "That’s exactly why I’m here."

His eyes flicked to mine, the smile growing just a little wider before he returned to his book. "Is that so?"

I nodded enthusiastically, drumming my fingers on the table, the light tapping reverberating through the otherwise silent library. He sighed softly, turning a page, pretending to ignore me.

"Am I bothering you?" I asked innocently, though the grin on my face betrayed my intentions.

"Not at all," he said without looking up. But I could see the tension in his posture, the way his shoulders tightened ever so slightly. He was fighting it, and I loved every second of it.

I shifted in my chair, my hand reaching out to trail my fingers along the edge of his book, just enough to nudge it off-center. He let out a low hum of disapproval, but still didn’t react.

Fine. If that’s how he wanted to play it.

I leaned in, my lips brushing against his ear as I whispered, "Looooki."

This time, he closed his book with a soft thud, turning to face me fully. His eyes sparkled with amusement, though his expression remained stern. "You’re quite relentless, aren’t you?"

I grinned at him, utterly unrepentant. "I’ve been told it’s one of my better qualities."

He raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking from my lips to my eyes and back again. For a moment, it felt like a silent challenge, and I wondered if I’d finally pushed him too far. But then, he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, a sly smile curling at the edges of his mouth.

"Very well," he said with a resigned sigh, "you win. But you owe me now."

"Owe you?" I repeated, feigning innocence. "And what exactly do I owe you, dear god of mischief?"

He leaned forward, eyes narrowing playfully as his voice dropped to a teasing whisper. "Your undivided attention. Later."

A shiver ran down my spine, his words hanging in the air between us. I met his gaze, my heart skipping a beat as I saw the promise in his eyes.

"Deal," I whispered back, already plotting how I’d hold him to it.

[phoenixblaze1412]

hawoo i like your writings soooooo much!!! can i request something like dottore as our father? like we're his child, literally. can be biological or adopted, up to u!!

His Legacy

Dottore doesn't have the time nor energy to find a lover and create a child with them. He doesn't even want to adopt one, there's a lot of processes that needs to be done before he can officially adopt said child.

If he wants a child, he prefers them to have his genes, a child that can follow in his footsteps and have the same knowledge as he does but from a different perspective of theirs.

What better way to make a child than in the laboratory.

After a month of finding the perfect resources and killing countless women to obtain the proper egg cells, he was able to create an infant, you.

He welcomed you into the world with a grin, his eyes staring back at yours, just the same color as his. He noticed your hair was blue as well, with the tips being a different color, possibly from the unknown mother's genes but he doesn't mind.

The segments all stood on one side of the room while staring at you, currently being held by Dottore himself as he held you out to the segments.

"What is that tiny thing?" "It looks like us but the tips of their hair is a different color." "Are they a failed segment?"

"This child you see before you is mine. I created them in the laboratory using a random woman's egg cell and adding my sperm cell to it. I expect the rest of you to take care of them as well. As for the name... let's call it (Y/n)."

You weren't much of a talker through the years of growing up but Dottore did found out your teeth were sharp like his, he was proud of himself to be able to create you that got most of his characteristics.

He personally taught you everything he knows, from the concept of science itself all the way to the medical field. You're already an expert at opening up a corpse at the fine age of nine without even vomiting or even disgusted at the sight and scent of blood.

Sometimes, the other harbingers would forcefully carry you out of the laboratory just to be able to enjoy the outside world and explore more, much to Dottore's annoyance.

Without the others knowing, Dottore would call a segment and order them to follow you and make sure that you're okay without being caught by his fellow harbingers.

You were given the nickname 'Mini Dottore' by Childe.

Whenever the eleventh harbinger called you that nickname, he would end up in your father's laboratory with a large bloody bite wound on either his arms or legs, courtesy of you.

On special experiments that requires a living test subject, Dottore wouldn't allow you to join in on the experiment, you would be taking the job of an assistant if an occasion arises.

Yes he taught you how to hold a scalpel and how to open up a body but he did it with a dead one. He didn't want you to kill a living organism yet, he may be crazy but he's not crazy enough to let his child watch a person screaming to death.

The segments would use you as a secret weapon if they were told to ask Pantalone for more fundings for their projects. They knew how the regrator couldn't say no to you. You may be a mini version of your father but you're way more adorable than him is what Pantalone stated.

We know Dottore's hair is usually around shoulder length but he doesn't know how to style it. With you in the picture, he had to deal with your hair because it would be everywhere and it is a big problem. It's either he cuts it short with scissors or style it.

He doesn't style it. He just grabs the nearest sharp object he could use and cut it short. He did thought of styling your hair like his but the idea was quickly thrown to the trash when you pouted at him. Luckily he knows how to do a ponytail, although quite messy but he makes sure it doesn't get in the way of your tasks.

Dottore would often be puzzled whenever he would see you caring for animals that were supposed to be used for his experiments. He concluded that this kind personality of yours could have belonged to the woman he killed back then, whoever she was. At least he didn't have to tell you who your mother was if you ever asked him, you were made in a pod chamber in his laboratory after all.

It may not seem like it but Dottore is proud to have you as his child. Aside from the new opinion and perspective he benefited from you, you grew on him and made him care for you.

'Father's little helper' is the nickname Dottore would coo at you whenever you assisted him with his experiments.

The segments treated you as their little sibling, making sure you're safe from harm. Doesn't matter if they get injured themselves because they can handle it but you on the other hand, are more fragile than them.

Dottore promised himself that he would never make you experience the things he went through in his past. He would never make you feel like a monster like he had endured back then.

Some would call you the second harbinger's apprentice, others would call you his pet.

The harbingers however, calls you Dottore's legacy.

[fishofthewoods]

Oh my god I woke up this morning and my Stardew Valley meta post had almost 150 notes????? Hello?????????? Anyways I started writing this last night because @moon-is-pretty-tonight left nice tags on the original so thank you so much!!

We know from the starting scenes of the game that the farmer's grandfather loved Stardew Valley. So why did he leave? Pelican Town is a good place to grow old; George and Evelyn are just fine. It's a fine place to raise a kid, but maybe he just wanted to raise his child closer to real schools and other children.

Or maybe, just maybe, he understood.

Was there a day when he was in his thirties where he looked at his friends and realized they weren't like him? That he could run faster than them, work longer, explore deeper into the hidden places of the valley?

Was there a day when he went to the wizard to ask him for help, for knowledge if nothing else? Did he learn then that his family was different? Special? Chosen? And how did he react? He couldn't possibly raise a child in the valley if they would be as strange and fey as him. He had to leave. There was no other way.

But years later, on his deathbed, did he regret that choice?

Is that why he gave the farmer the letter?

Is that why they went back home?

When the farmer steps off the bus that first day, the valley is still on the cusp of winter, just barely tipping over into spring. The flowers are starting to bloom, but a chill still hangs in the air. As soon as the farmer's boots touch the soil there's a change. The air gets warmer. The trees get greener. Not by too much, not all at once, but it changes.

The junimos watch the farmer as they do their work. They're new to farming, but take to it with frightening speed; their first batch of crops is perfect. None of the townsfolk tell them that parsnips don't normally grow in less than a week, that cauliflowers don't grow to be ten feet tall, that fairies don't visit when the sun goes down and grow potatoes and beans and tulips overnight. The junimos talk amongst themselves in their strange, wild language, and agree: this is the one. They're back. The valley recognizes its own, even when they've left for a generation. The farmers have come home.

Things change fast in the valley. The community center, empty and decrepit for so many years, is rejuvenated. (Lewis says it was abandoned only a few weeks after the farmer's grandfather left. Strange coincidence, he says, that it both came and went with the farmer's family.) The mines and the quarry, similarly abandoned, are explored for the first time in ages. The town becomes cleaner, brighter, more vibrant, happier.

And it is happier. Not just the environment, but the people. It's the talk of the town for weeks when Haley does her first closet purge. Leah's art show in the town square is a huge success. Shane's smiling for the first time since he moved to the valley. All of them, when asked, say it's all thanks to the farmer.

People love to ask why Lewis didn't fix the community center on his own. Why Willy never repaired the boat to ginger island. Why Abigail or Marlon never went down to fix the elevator in the mines, or why Clint didn't fix the minecarts.

But isn't it so much more interesting to ask how those things were there in the first place? How they got so broken down? If the stories the townspeople tell are true, the valley was once a beautiful place, flourishing and full of life; why did that change? When did it change?

Was it when the farmer's grandfather, the locus of the valley, its chosen representative, left town?

And if so, what happens when the farmer comes back?

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Middlemen without enshittification

I'm on tour with my new novel The Bezzle! Catch me next in SALT LAKE CITY (Feb 21, Weller Book Works) and SAN DIEGO (Feb 22, Mysterious Galaxy). After that, it's LA, Seattle, Portland, Phoenix and more!

Enshittification describes how platforms go bad, which is also how the internet goes bad, because the internet is made of platforms, which is weird, because platforms are intermediaries and we were promised that the internet would disintermediate the world:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/30/go-nuts-meine-kerle/#ich-bin-ein-bratapfel

The internet did disintermediate a hell of a lot of intermediaries – that is, "middlemen" – but then it created a bunch more of these middlemen, who coalesced into a handful of gatekeepers, or as the EU calls them "VLOPs" (Very Large Online Platforms, the most EU acronym ever).

Which raises two questions: first, why did so many of us end up flocking to these intermediaries' sites, and how did those sites end up with so much power?

To answer the first question, I want you to consider one of my favorite authors: Crad Kilodney (RIP):

https://archive.org/details/thecradkilodneypapers

When I was growing up, Crad was a fixture on the streets of Toronto. All through the day and late into the evening, winter or summer, Crad would stand on the street with a sign around his neck ("Very famous Canadian author, buy my books, $2" or sometimes just "Margaret Atwood, buy my books, $2"). He wrote these deeply weird, often very funny short stories, which he edited, typeset, printed, bound and sold himself, one at a time, to people who approached him on the street.

I had a lot of conversations with Crad – as an aspiring writer, I was endlessly fascinated by him and his books. He was funny, acerbic – and sneaky. Crad wore a wire: he kept a hidden tape recorder rolling in his coat and he secretly recorded conversations with people like me, and then released a series of home-duplicated tapes of the weirdest and funniest ones:

https://archive.org/details/on-the-street-crad-kilodney-vol-1

I love Crad. He deserves more recognition. There's an on-again/off-again documentary about his life and work that I hope gets made some day:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/09/free-sample/#putrid-scum

But – and this is the crucial part – there are writers out there I want to hear from who couldn't do what Crad did. Maybe they can write books, but not edit them. Or edit them, but not typeset them. Or typeset, but not print. Or print, but not spend the rest of their lives standing on a street-corner with a "PUTRID SCUM" sign around their neck.

Which is fine. That's why we have intermediaries. I like booksellers (I was one!). I like publishers. I like distributors. I like their salesforce, who go forth and convince the booksellers of the world to stock books like mine. I have ten million things I want to do before I die, and I'm already 52, and being a sales-rep for a publisher isn't on my bucket list. I am so thankful that someone else wants to do this for me.

That's why we have intermediaries, and why disintermediation always leads to some degree of re-intermediation. There's a lot of explicit and implicit knowledge and specialized skill required to connect buyers and sellers, creators and audiences, and other sides of two-sided markets. Some producers can do some of this stuff for themselves, and a very few – like Crad – can do it all, but most of us need some help, somewhere along the way. In the excellent 2022 book Direct, Kathryn Judge lays out a clear case for all the good that middlemen can do:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/12/direct-the-problem-of-middlemen/

So why were we all so anxious for disintermediation back in the late 1990s? Here's a hint: it wasn't because we hated intermediaries – it was because we hated powerful intermediaries.

The point of an intermediary is to serve as a conduit between producers and consumers, buyers and sellers, audiences and creators. When an intermediary gains power over the audience – say, by locking them inside a walled garden – and then uses that lock-in to screw producers and appropriate an ever larger share of the value going between them, that's when intermediaries become a problem.

The problem isn't that someone will handle ticketing for your gig. The problem is that Ticketmaster has locked down all the ticketing, and the venues, and the promotions, and it uses that power to gouge fans and rip off artists:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/20/anything-that-cant-go-on-forever-will-eventually-stop/

The problem isn't that there's a well-made website that lets you shop for goods sold by many small merchants and producers. It's that Amazon has cornered this market, takes $0.51 out of every dollar you spend there, and clones and destroys any small merchant who succeeds on the platform:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/25/greedflation/#commissar-bezos

The problem isn't that there's a website where you can stream most of the music ever recorded. It's that Spotify colludes with the Big Three labels to rip off artists and sneaks crap you don't want to hear into your stream in order to collect payola:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/09/12/streaming-doesnt-pay/#stunt-publishing

The problem isn't that there's a website where you can buy any audiobook you want. It's that Amazon's Audible locks every book to its platform forever and steals hundreds of millions of dollars from creators:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/25/can-you-hear-me-now/#acx-ripoff

The problem, in other words, isn't intermediation – it's power. The thing that distinguishes a useful intermediary from an enshittified bully is power. Intermediaries gain power when our governments stop enforcing competition law. This lets intermediaries buy each other up and corner markets. Once they've formed cozy cartels, they can capture their regulators and commit rampant labor, privacy and consumer violations with impunity. That capture also lets them harness governments to punish smaller players that want to free workers, creators, audiences and customers from walled gardens. It also hands them a whip-hand over their workers, so that any worker who refuses to aid in these nefarious plans can be easily fired:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/30/go-nuts-meine-kerle/#ich-bin-ein-bratapfel

A world with intermediaries is a better world. As much as I love Crad Kilodney's books, I wouldn't want to live in a world where the only books on my shelves came from people prepared to stand on a street-corner wearing a "FOUL PUS FROM DEAD DOGS" sign.

The problem isn't intermediaries – it's powerful intermediaries. That's why the world's surging antitrust movement is so exciting: by reinstating competition law, we can keep intermediaries small and comparatively weak, so that creators and audiences, drivers and riders, sellers and buyers, and other groups seeking to connect will not find themselves made subservient to middlemen.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/19/crad-kilodney-was-an-outlier/#intermediation

[yourlovelywriter]

Mine to have (Yandere Agatha harkness x reader) part one.

Idek man… I hope yall like it. :)

I don’t prof read cause idc. Good luck understanding you might need it. 🙏

(Warnings— yandere behavior, rough handling, blood, jealousy, unusual gifts, sexual behavior, Lustful intent… kidnapping.)

Also sorry for the long beginning.:(

It was late at night when you were organizing the books at the library. It was unfortunately your average evening. Not that you hated being a librarian, I mean you loved the silence and the ambiance, but when night hits it’s like a whole other world, a weird one.

Up until now the night shift has been fine, no problems or issues. But for the past few days it’s like someone has been watching you, you feel eyes on you when your back is turned, you see shadows out of the corner of your eye, and you hear noises.

Overall it’s creepy as hell. And the non working lights in the library don’t help.

When you hear a noise you jump. You freeze a moment before turning to look in the direction of the sound. Seeing nothing you grab your phone for a light and you slowly walk down the aisle of bookshelves.

Looking down you see a book on the floor, “What the hell?” You mumble and bend down to pick it up. “I am watching you…” you whisper as you read the cover. Totally not creepy.

You look around for where the book fell of the shelve but there’s no empty space. Confused you look around the area but nothing. You walk back to your desk and set the book down with a sigh. The good thing is you’d only have to be there for another hour.

Surly enough, nothing else happened during the hour and you finally locked up and left.

The next day you wake up to a text.

Emily/boss: hey, I know you just worked night shift but Caroline never came in this morning and I need help. Can you come?

You groan and throw yourself into your pillow. Of course you wanted to stay home and sleep. But you sort of have a crush on Emily and you don’t want to disappoint her.

Y/n: yeah sure, not a problem. I’ll see you there! :)

Throwing your phone down you sigh annoyed. Looking around you realize you haven’t really done laundry. You walk to your dresser and see a cute knee length dress. You pair it with some colorful tights, boots, a scarf, and your jewelry of course.

Making your way to the door you throw on a coat and grab your phone and keys.

Once at the little library you set your stuff down and see Emily. “Emily! I’m here. I can see why you needed some help. There’s a lot of people in here today.” You say as you look around. There really is a lot of people. It’s weird really.

“I know right, we hardly ever have one person walk in, let alone 20 people…” Emily laughs and looks around. “Right, well, I’ll go to the counter to check people out if needed.” You say and move over to your chair. As you turn on your computer you notice the book from last night still on your desk.

A shiver runs down your spine as you stare at it. Suddenly a voice draws you out of your trance and you look up quickly. It’s a tall woman, dark brown hair, piercing eyes, and a grin on her face.

“Hello dove, I’m not interrupting am I?” Her voice is smooth, welcoming even. “O-oh of course not, I was just.. looking at something- it doesn’t matter. What can I do for you?” You stamper out quickly, slightly embarrassed.

“Well, dove, I’m trying to grow my knowledge, if you will, expand my horizons. But I just don’t know where to start.” She practically purrs out. He voice sends a shiver down your spine but you try not to lead into it.

“Of course what books are you interested in?” You question and she smirks. “Well I was thinking romance maybe.. do you have anything that’s worth my time?” Her eyes scan you up and down, committing it all to memory. You clear your throat before responding

“Of course there’s some in the back if you’d like me to show you, Mrs…”

“Oh! Agatha, Agatha Harkness… and it’s Ms. Not Mrs, dove.” She responds and you blush.

“Of course, my apologies. But if you’ll follow me I’ll take you to the back.” You say standing. Leaving your phone and wallet behind. “We have a variety of romantic novels. We have cliche romances, hallmark style, hmm.. we also have some more on the obsessive style if that’s more your thing.”

“Oh you have no idea” Agatha reply’s with a smug grin. “I like this one.., it looks like a good book. Don’t you think Y/n ?” She asks and picks up a dark romance book. One about a young woman who’s taken hostage by her boss and falls in love.

“Oh, yeah sure.. I haven’t read it but it’s got great reviews.” You say shyly. Then your brows furrow. “How do you know my name?” You question. Agatha passes for a moment but then laughs, “it was on your name tag silly.” Calming down a bit you blush. “Oh sorry..”

Agatha’s eyes look at your body with an intensity that could only be described as hunger. She swallows hard before moving closer to whisper something.

“Hey Y/n there’s a line at the counter!” Emily yells suddenly. Stopping Agatha in her tracks. She scowls before composing herself.

“I’m so sorry, if you’d wait a second I’ll come help you..” you whisper to Agatha and rush to the front counter. Emily smiles at you and rubs your shoulder as you sit down.

Agatha takes note of this and doesn’t like it one bit. How dare she, how dare that insignificant being lay their hands on something that was hers?! It was anarchy.

After dealing with the line Emily asks you to go for lunch. Completely forgetting Agatha you agree. “Sure I’ll come. Let me just grab my phone and wallet.” You rush to grab your stuff but your phones gone. “Huh… I could have sworn I placed it here somewhere…” you mumble.

“Looking for something?” A low voice comes from behind you. You jump slightly and cover your mouth. “Oh gosh, you scared me..” you cover your heart.

“Oh I’m sorry dove, I didn’t mean to” Agatha rubs your cheek with her finger. Her eyes look down to your lips and she smiles slightly. “I’m looking for my phone yeah..” you respond slightly nervous and you back up a bit.

Agatha’s smile fades at your move and her hands start to reach for you but she clinches her fists. “It wouldn’t happen to be this one would it?” She asks and holds up your phone. You look surprised.

“Yeah it is where did you find it?” You let her set it in your hands.

“Oh it was on the bookshelf where we were talking dove, you set it there before we were..” she paused for a moment then her voice hardens a bit, “rudely interrupted” she finishes.

“Right well… thanks for bringing it back. But we’re closing for lunch so..” as you walk to the door and open it for her to leave she doesn’t move.

Her smile is thin and doesn’t reach her eyes, “we? Whose we” she asks sort of demandingly. You stand confused a bit but you soon reply. “Me and the manager. But I’ll open back later if you wanna stop by.” You stand waiting for her to follow you out. She smiles at your words then walks out.

“Of course I’ll come by then.. but what restaurant are you going to…” Agatha says suddenly. You look up at her.

“I don’t know.. whatever Emily chooses i guess.” Her face hardens again. “Ah Emily yes.. she’s the object of your affection I suppose” her voice holding back venom. She quickly puts on a smile and leaves, “I’ll see you later dove.” You finally sigh and shut and lock the doors. “How unusual” you mummer as you walk to Emily’s car.

“Sorry, a customer was holding me up..”

At the restaurant you and Emily hit it off. You really do like her. Her smile, her laugh, personality… she has it all.

“Im so glad you came with me. I’m having a wonderful time” Emily says tenderly as she places her hand onto yours rubbing gently. You blush.

Agatha never did come to the library later that night. But you didn’t think about that much. Only the fact Emily was acting interested.

At your apartment you walk in and throw your stuff down. “Fuck that’s heavy” you grunt as it hits the floor. You walk into the kitchen and realize the light is on. “Shit i must have left it on.. now the light bills gonna be high. Just what I need.” Switching it off you grab a cookie off the counter and go sit in the living room with the tv on.

Suddenly your phone buzzes. “Who is texting at this time of night?” You whisper annoyed, though secretly hope it’s Emily.

Unknown: why would you do this to me.

Your brow furrows and you look confused.

Y/n: who is this and how did you get my number?!

You type quickly.

Unknown: you dare let another woman touch you, to laugh with you when you know what that does to me!

“What the fuck..” you mutter.

Y/n: look if this is a joke it isn’t funny.

Unknown: I love you Y/n, I really do, and it pains me to know you would see another woman. Which is why I have to do what I needed to do a year ago.

You stare at your screen shocked. Who the hell was this?! And what were they talking about?!

Y/n: what do you mean?!?

Y/n: hello!?!

No reply, nothing. You set your phone down and decide you need to calm down.. you start to worry about what this person meant by, “do what I needed to do a year ago.”

You lay in bed and start to relax a bit. Not wanting to think about it. And just as soon as you close your eyes the door creaks. Your eyed shooting open. A tall figure is standing in your door.

Okay so… this is a part 1 I guess. I don’t want to leave it like this but do you guys want me to add more?

[estro-gem]

Jax x Ragatha: The snake and the water spring

The Amazing Digital Circus AU: Oasis.

Author's note: I found this show by chance and I took a great liking to it! So now I did a thing, instead of studying for upcoming exams, because I love making things difficult for myself, apparently.

I have no idea what the fandom is like, but I'm playing it safe just to be... well... safe. I just loved the concept of this show so much that I couldn't help but be inspired by it! It got me thinking and I let it all out in this... thing.

I want to write more one-shot fics about the other characters and how they fit into this au too, but I don't know when I'll be able to.

WARNING! None of these characters are mine and everything mentioned and described is purely made-up fiction; inspired by works that are not my own. Nothing should be considered canon or taken seriously - we are all here to have some harmless fun! No age restrictions. I think this might be appropriate for all ages...?

Please show some love and support for Gooseworx; the creator of The Amazing Digital Circus!

I definitely butchered Gooseworx's characters by adding unnecessary 'relationship dynamics' and deviating from their original personalities. I promise that the actual show and characters are so much better than they are in my false portrayal of them.

SUMMARY:

A fanmade take on the events following Pomni's arrival and after the crew had dinner together. This is focused on Jax's point of view, but still written in the third person.

Jax confronts Ragatha after the pilot episode's 'dinner' and does his best to comfort her in a way that works for them. That's it.

Please enjoy!

THE SNAKE AND THE WATER SPRING

Jax was a desert snake.

Nothing but a cold-blooded pest that lived to find his next meal.

When one is left to die under the scorching sun, you can’t stomp on the sun for creating a desert, but you could stomp on the desert snake if it added to the pain of surviving in said desert. The Digital Realm was nothing but a desert sun – a cage with no exit and an evil with no target.

It was no secret why so many had lost their minds here.

Jax took on the role of being the snake. It was never announced or planned, but it was deemed necessary by all who came to know the realm. The inhabitants of The Amazing Digital Circus craved any sense of control; something they could hold accountable for their torment – something they could punish. A menace, parasite.

Evil with a target: Jax.

It was fun to act out while everybody went about their lives. He could unapologetically be the worst being known to man and thrive on the rage and hatred of all he had affected. If they hated him, he was fulfilling his role perfectly… and that meant they could stay sane and do their parts as he did his. Less people would be lost to insanity… and the group would grow stronger.

Everyone had a role in their system – an oasis was established, with Ragatha as the heart of the oasis; their very own water spring.

But when a new invading creature bursts into the oasis with no knowledge of this system, their system would be doomed. Pomni happened to be that invader. Everyone could collectively, yet silently agree that she was acting by her own careless devices since she arrived a few hours ago. She greedily soaked up their water source and left it barren, dry, and suffering.

Granted, Pomni didn’t know how their oasis worked, but it didn’t change the fact that she disrupted everything by showing up. She would have to catch on quickly and prove herself useful, before anyone else loses their minds.

They lost one of their own already… and they almost lost their beloved Ragatha; Jax’s equal and opposite.

Their precious water source.

Snakes offered venom, while water springs offered hope of life. They all desperately needed Ragatha to survive. While most would assume her to be fine after being fixed by Caine, Jax knew better than that. He saw her reluctantly stand aside Pomni to support her – beautifully acting within her role as she always would, but it was clear that Pomni still didn’t understand how scarce the water was by then. Rags was spread thin enough by handling the extra stress and enduring the continuous pain of being corrupted by the abstraction, but that didn’t stop Pomni from practically having a mental breakdown at the dinner table.

Jax saw that coming from a mile away. Thank goodness he silently took the open seat next to Pomni, silent in his insistence that the ragdoll should keep her distance for the time being. He’d give anything to destroy the little jester for abusing his doll. Ragatha was acting perfectly normal at the time – her masked smile perfectly set on her face – until it was time for them all to retire to their respective bedrooms.

Jax wished that he would’ve just dragged her after him when he booked it from the abstraction earlier today. Pomni would have been the perfect distraction for them to escape and get Caine.

He stood at Ragatha’s door after dinner.

Jax made a point to ring the doorbell this time. Usually, he’d just pluck out a key and saunter in like he owns the place, but with what happened today, he’d make an exception. Everyone has their limit – and someone has already reached their limit today. They couldn’t risk losing another one. Especially not Raggs. They all really needed her.

When she didn’t open, he tried the bell again. Nothing.

Well, time for the key, then.

He shoved his hand down his front pocket and fished out the doll’s room key. The bunny didn’t waste time opening the door. He wanted to see what state the girl was in, despite dreading the possibility of finding an abstracted amalgamation on the other side.

Silence.

Not even a creak was heard from the hallway. The room was lit up as it usually was, so that was a good sign, at least. Jax couldn’t see an obvious black body of eyes – another win. But where was Ragatha? He did see her walk into her room, so she had to be here.

He walked around, keeping his cool, casual composure fixed, despite no one being around. It was effortless at this point. It became a way for him to focus on what he could control in this crazy digital prison; himself.

He couldn’t, however, control his ability to spot a blasted ragdoll, it would seem. He scanned the room again, until his eyes fell on her ¾ bed. Could she-?

The bunny rolled his eyes at himself as he lowered himself onto his knees – maybe he could convince himself that he was not phased by the situation. Bending down, he peered beneath the bed frame.

Jax sighed in exasperation. Or was it relief? Both?

Ragatha was in the state she was in before retiring to her room. No gliching, no extra eyes.

Just Raggs.

She didn’t look good, though. The doll was curled up beneath her bed and blindly staring ahead of her. It didn’t look like she was breathing – not that they needed to anyway, but it was uncanny to see Rags like this. She was their voice of reason. She was a water spring in this desert.

If she dried up, their desert would be doomed.

Jax silently stood up and walked back to the open door again. No need to make a fuss over this. He took hold of the door handle and shut it from the inside. Key in hand, he locked the door and nodded to himself. Ragatha needed a raincloud… and he’d have to fill that role now. It’s the least he could do after leaving her to fend for herself when they found the abstraction today.

Why didn’t she run with him? Why did think she could fix someone whose mind was broken beyond repair? Why didn’t she just leave the rookie as bait?

Because that just wasn’t her role, was it?

If it weren’t for her nature – her role – none of them would have made it this far. It dawned on Jax, once again, how close they were to losing their beloved doll. How close they were to being stuck with an invader who knew nothing about what it took to survive in this hell hole.

Enough.

Back to the bed, crouched down and silent Jax positioned himself to lay down and simply look over the red head from a relative distance. There was enough space for the doll to crawl out of hiding without having to touch him. The bunny still hadn’t said a word. It’d be stupid to talk, and he didn’t feel like making the effort. He just wanted things back to normal again – well… as normal as it could have been.

Now Kaufmo is gone, a new creature was invading their home, tearing it up from the roots and tipping the delicate scales of the balance they worked very hard on creating. All because of a lunatic ringmaster having the bright idea of creating a fake exit-door. Someone better get that jester on a tight leash to get her to fall in line, like the rest of them were forced to.

He knew he, for one, wouldn’t mind roughing her up a bit. It was his specialty – his role. The parasite. The menace. The instigator.

Evil with an actual target.

The sound of shifting and movement had Jax blink out of his own head. Ragatha was slowly and dumbly making her way out from under her bed. Her eyes were still fogged over and her face still eerily blank, but at least she came out of hiding out of her own will. In a matter of seconds, the doll was out from her hiding place and settled on the floor beside Jax. She was staring him in the eyes now, waiting for the bunny, silently pleading.

Jax hadn’t had his aloof-douchebag persona engaged since he locked Ragatha’s door. She didn’t need a menace now – she needed to be grounded; revitalized. She needed a dark raincloud to fill up the water spring they all needed.

He didn’t look forward to what needed to be done, but he wouldn’t allow anyone else to do it.

He moved to stand up and held out a hand to help her up. He took note of the way her hand was shaking when she took his and gently guided her to the bed. The red head was the first to sit, then moved to lay down on her back and numbly stare at the ceiling. With a deep breath, Jax gathered himself mentally and cautiously crept onto the bed and positioned himself to briefly hover over her, before lowering his full weight onto Ragatha.

He had his head in the crook of her neck, on the left shoulder with his ears folding back to floppily droop to his upper back… with his left hand resting on the opposite shoulder. His body, although slim, enveloped hers and caused her to sink slightly into the mattress. His legs just loosely laid over and aside the ragdoll’s. It was more important to have his weight resting on her torso anyway.

For a long moment, they just motionlessly laid on the bed like this. To an outsider, it would look like they fell asleep atop each other or simply cuddled together very closely.

An outsider wouldn’t see that Jax was focused on the slow process of Ragatha’s body relaxing under his weight and her breathing slowing to a regular rhythm. An outsider wouldn’t have known that this was hardly the first time they’d done this – how long it took Jax to learn that this make-shift deep-pressure therapy was the most effective grounding technique for Ragatha to collect herself again.

They wouldn’t understand that Jax didn’t do this out of wanting to, but rather out of necessity.

Jax didn’t like to be touched. If anything, he was very capable of merely tolerating it. Everyone in the circus knew that he was touch-averse; some even used that as leverage to mess with him if the situation called for it. It was a necessity that he endured to keep his doll sane – to keep anyone of importance here in the circus, sane. Their whole lives revolved around mental strength. It was all just a matter of staying sane.

The laid there for what felt like a lifetime.

Slight shifting beside Jax alerted him that the doll was moving her arms – previously stiffly pinned to her sides. This was good, she felt comfortable enough to move around now!

Her left hand gently snaked up to the bunny’s head and slowly, softly petted his ears in a longitude motion. Her right hand wrapped loosely around his middle-to-lower back – motionless. This was bad, Jax did not like being touched like that!

While he was fine with the rhythmic touches of Ragatha’s left hand, he despised the idle position of the right hand resting on his back. He couldn’t prevent himself from tensing up in discomfort.

Bad touch, bad touch, bad-

This caused the ragdoll to tense up and rip her hands off him as if he burned her.

Oh no you don’t! We are not starting all over again.

He slowly pulls away and propped up unto his elbows, hearing Ragatha’s breathing pick up as she presumably spirals into her own thoughts on how he was going to leave her like this. Jax cast down a disapproving look. He broke his gaze to unceremoniously take her right hand – now clutched close to her chest – and intertwined their fingers, before resting his head on her left shoulder once again. He close eyes as he use his free hand to put her left hand on his head again, waiting for her to resume her petting.

Good touch; this was a good touch. Please understand.

Thankfully, Ragatha relaxed… and continued her previous slow, rhythmic motions. Slowly, Jax felt her relax once again and he indulged into her need for touch by stroking his thumb over hers occasionally.

Soon they fell into a rhythm; Ragatha would pet Jax’s ears 3 times, then it was his turn to stroke his thumb over hers. Then they would repeat the routine. This also helped Jax cope with the touching; the routine. The rhythm.

It felt like hours ticked by as the two just practiced their little unspoken routine. Jax grew used to it after a while, almost forgetting that his new mattress was now a sentient ragdoll and completely tuned into their rhythm of touches.

Pet… pet… pet… thumb. Pet… pet… pet… thumb.

Jax didn’t like touch, but he loved routine.

The doll and the bunny’s time together, once nothing but grounding techniques, grew to become an intimate exchange of touches and caresses – all wrapped in a routine, like a dance. Jax felt warm and fuzzy inside; for once he basked in the moment of enjoying his dolly. He lazily wondered if Ragatha felt the same. He shifted his head to look at her.

The doll looked down to meet his eyes when she felt him move. He could swear that she looked at peace, basking in the bliss of their closeness. For some reason, she looked like an angel. They all saw her as their angel. Had he successfully pinned a heavenly body beneath him?

Her gentle, longing gaze made a kaleidoscope of butterflies erupt from his core.

This wasn’t the first time this feeling invaded his being when they did this – as rare as these moments were. He wasn’t sure when he started experiencing such feelings during these rare encounters, but as months crawled by, he felt drawn to his dolly more and more. Based on how she looked at him, he could only assume that she felt it too.

Something so foreign, yet so familiar.

He didn’t fail to spot the warmth rushing to her cheeks when their eyes met. She looked so ethereal beneath him, especially when her breathing picked up under his firm gaze. Her lips were parted, and her eyes were lidded. This time, it wasn’t fear or overstimulation. It was anticipation. It was desire.

Jax internally flinched at the tingly sensation when he smoothly burrowed his face into Ragatha’s neck. She shivered at the breath he let out against her skin. He could tolerate the touching a little longer, as long as he could see her crumble again. He wanted to see her walls crumble again.

“Jax- ”

Oh… he had to hear her again. More clearly, next time. This was torture, but she made him into her own personal masochist. His skin crawled at the sensation of her skin shivering against him, but he needed more. He could take it. Just a little longer – he just had to stand these sensations a little longer. He looked at her again.

Ragatha was reverting to a helpless puddle. The doll’s arms were gripping at the covers beneath her, successfully eliminating the bother of excessive contact that he despised. Jax didn’t know if she did it with that intension or without thinking, but either way, he was thankful. He really wanted more.

Why couldn’t he just be normal?

He lifted onto his elbows again and – dare one say – lovingly looked at her face. She could only peek back at him, breathing slightly faster than usual. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her shaky hand rise from the covers and hover next to his cheek, while her eyes pleaded for his mercy. He hesitated but bit the bullet to comply; leaning into her touch while desperately trying to ignore the odd tingles. Jax convinced himself to kiss her wrist and drowned himself in the pleasure of hearing her softly call his name.

He only heard it because he was listening so closely for it.

Yes.

DING DONG

In a flash, Jax braced himself up into a crouch and slammed his foot down with a mighty THUMP upon hearing Ragatha startle into a fit when the doorbell chimed. His hair on his back stood on end and his claws ripped through his gloves, leaving gouges in the covers beside the doll’s head.

His precious doll was disturbed again!

He heard her soft cry of fear and his blood boiled with a thirst for vengeance. Only he can make her cry out. He’ll skin the soul that dared to-

“Ragatha…? Can we talk?”

That DAMN jester!

“Jax?” a quiet voice trembled in his ear from beneath him. Jax stopped glaring at the door to softly glance down and see what his little doll wanted.

“Don’t…” Raggs sounded like she was begging while being held at gunpoint, whispering despite their rooms being enchanted to not hear anything from the outside when the door is shut.

Jax wouldn’t dare let that thing inside. Raggs was upset enough as it is.

“Look, I know it probably wouldn’t make a difference…” Pomni’s voice came from the other side door again, “…but I’m so sorry for running off… Again… I saw that exit and I had to see if it was real. No one else believed me and I started to think that I was losing my mind. You understand that, right?”

Jax placed both his hands down on the mattress, blocking the doll’s view of the door as if it could block the sound of the voice from reaching the Raggs’s ears, still hovering over her. He knew that his dolly didn’t want to hear anything the harlequin had to say now – he had half the mind to get up and bash the newbie’s head in.

“I hope we can talk about this some time. You are probably tired after such a long, crazy day.” Pomni’s voice died down near the end, “It feels like you’re the only good person here.”

She really is, but she’s too good for you. Selfish leech.

Jax looks down to the girl, still stiff as a board beneath him. Her eye was shiny with the swell of tears. He melted at the sight – anger simmering down. She was just a sweet little rag dolly, she didn’t deserve any of this, but oh, he was so happy to see Ragatha finally emote something again. She was OK again. Their water source was filled once again, now threatening to spill over. He’d happily welcome the flood.

He needed her.

The sound of fading footsteps causes Jax to rip his eyes to the direction of the door. His hearing was better than the dolls, probably thanks to being a rabbit.

Good riddance.

Ragatha seemed to relax at the sight of Jax deflating his stance, reading that Pomni probably left her door. She hesitantly reached up to cup Jax’s cheek. Jax followed her hand’s motion and scoffed, cringing at the invasion. He’s had enough touching for a week. It sucked to leave his doll so soon after being distressed again, but he couldn’t bring himself stand any more of this. He quickly got up and smoothed out his clothes, but not without missing the flash of hurt in the doll’s eyes. He felt bad, but he had to be strong with the new girl around, so straining himself now would only make matters worse and mess up the whole system.

Still, seemingly bored, Jax stood in his spot while rocking on his heels and looking off to the side, only sparing her a glance. Raggs sat up by then. She looked a little worse for wear, but it’s an improvement from hiding under her bed. She rested her elbows on her knees with her chin in her hands. The hurt in her eyes was long gone, but she looked tired. Poor thing, Jax shared the sentiment.

He felt her eye bore into the side of his face and the bunny couldn’t stop himself before he rolled his eyes and looked to her again. He could’ve choked on air when he saw her face, but the years of steeling his demeanor left no trace of his inner turmoil.

Raggs sported that longing look in her eyes again.

They were so close this time – closer than they’ve ever been before. Each time they spent together on nights like this, although few and far between, they grew closer… and hungrier. Neither understood what it was, but they never had the chance to just collapse into it, tonight being the closest to that.

But there was always something, right?

Jax allowed gaze to soften. His doll offered a small smile that almost ripped his heart out if his chest. It was drenched with melancholy of something she knew they could never have.

Because their roles in their little ecosystem didn’t allow for it to ever be theirs. It would never work.

This was survival.

The rabbit steeled his demeanor once again, but this time, his doll’s face didn’t fall.

Good, as it should be.

Jax walked to the door and fished out the key from his front pocket. He didn’t bother looking back. If he did, he wouldn’t have the will to leave anymore. When he opened the door, though, he couldn’t help but mumble out teasingly.

“See yah later, Doll~!”

He wished that he could shout his affections for her out into the void instead.

“I’m not your doll.” Ragatha responded, voice still wobbly and tired, but perky regardless. She knew just how to indulge him.

Yes, she is… she always will be.

Fanart: Evil with a target

Oasis: TADC AU list

Masterlist

[child0feden]

DIRTY NEW YORKER

niko bellic x reader

- general dating headcanons for niko!

started replaying grand theft auto IV a couple days ago and i just love him so much, reader is very slightly referenced to have big boobs but it is not a major thing at all <3

- view my video game masterlist here

reading music recommendations: dirty new yorker by mobb deep - windowlicker by aphex twin

- niko can very often be just kind of cheap when it comes to dates and such!

✩ he does not really mean to be cheap, it is kind of just that he is not a super fancy person at all! he did not grow up with money, he is not very knowledgeable on princess or prince treatment and what not…

- but he really does try his absolute best to treat you as well as he knows how to and as well as he knows you do deserve to be treated

✩ wether it be taking you out to a local bar to grab some drinks together which he pays for, bringing you some supermarket flowers when picking you up in his car

- speaking of which, when you are in his car is when you get ultimate prince or princess treatment, you are his number one passenger prince or princess

✩ you want to play one your CDs or switch the radio station over to one of your usual favourites? go for it, he will not bat an eye, he might even find himself bobbing his head to the music as it plays through the slightly crackling speaker of his car

- you want the windows rolled up so that the rushing wind does not ruin your hair that you brushed back perfectly for your time out together? even on a pretty hot day? okay… it is completely fine by him! have them rolled all the way up if you want to…

✩ niko is already kind of a reckless driver but when you are in the car sometimes he will speed up when approaching sudden speed bumps in the road and slyly side eye you to watch your boobs bounce as he smirks at the sight

- i just think he probably absolutely loves bouncy boobs and there will no further comments from me at this time…

✩ niko likely did not introduce you to roman for quite a while when you guys first started dating!

- he thought you would be extremely overwhelmed by his… very unique personality and want out of the relationship you have with him because of just how different his close family is

✩ when niko eventually told you this, you were obviously so beyond confused because like… you are in a relationship with niko and definitely not roman… why on earth would you care at all about how his cousin acts? why would you leave him because of how his eccentric cousin acts?

- so eventually you do end up meeting roman and of course he is nice enough to you! he makes a point to over enthusiastically tell niko how he “ totally hit the liberty city jackpot ” with you when you are off grabbing a drink for yourself

✩ niko can obviously be pretty damn protective of you!

- with the line of work he is in and the type of people who he knows reside comfortably in liberty city, he just knows he kind of has to look out for you, he wants to look out for you

✩ if you are ever catcalled whilst walking beside him through the grimy streets of liberty city, niko is so quick to cuss the person out in some harsh serbian as you either try to pull him along in fear of him pulling a pistol and just killing the guy or you might sometimes egg him on… depending on what mood you are in that day… because sometimes protective niko is just a sight you love to behold…

- after this happens, he usually fucks you so insanely hard! either in the cramped backseat of his old car or in bed when you get back to your apartment! you are all his and those pieces of filth should know that, really everyone should know that

“ fucking filth… you’re mine aren’t you, Лепа? they could never fuck you like i do… ” ( you cannot even get a word of agreement out with how fast and hard he is pounding you, he is almost downright animalistic as he gives you no room for breathing and ruts his cock into you with harsh force mixed with a strange softness )

✩ he is not insecure, he is just pretty damn protective and very much likes other people to know you are certainly spoken for

- niko is not majorly into pda, he finds it to just be kind of unneeded, but this man will never not be holding your hand tightly in his as you walk down the streets of liberty city!

✩ and you really like holding his hand anyways, his cotton black fingerless gloves keep your own hands toasty warm and if you ever need to be more warmed up he will lend you his cozy bomber jacket whilst huffing and grumbling under his breath about how he told you to take a damn jacket out with you

- when walking the street together, niko is one of those men who walks on the side of the path closest to the road… it is just a major protective instinct for him

✩ i feel like he probably uses way too much cologne and aftershave on himself!

- like sometimes you have to cover your nose when you first approach him because it feels like it is being burned as you inhale the heavily scented air around him

✩ when you tell him to maybe loosen up on the cologne a little, he is so personally offended! what? do you not want him to smell good? he literally only even really puts it on himself for you!

“ what do you mean too much? i smell nice! you… okay, whatever… too much… ” ( this is the most genuinely upset you think you have ever seen him and it is literally all over cologne )

- but after a lengthy explanation to him and defending your case against his heavy usage of cologne, he agrees to go easy on the sprays next time, if it will make you happy…

✩ niko keeps a little risqué picture of you tucked in his leather wallet! but of course roman saw it from afar once and started mocking him for being so corny but also asked to see it up close to which niko simply widened his eyes in his direction and yelled at him with a stern tone in his voice

“ what? no! you can’t, why would i show you that? leave, go away… ” ( he is so mad roman saw it at all, let alone him asking to see it even better )

- when you guys sleep together, it is pretty rare that he ever really cuddles you… he just does not really like body heat! it makes him sweat and he hates being sticky and sweaty under the thick blankets of your bed, so he usually just has an arm thrown over your midriff or your chest and one of his legs tangled with yours under the blankets <3

[ssplague]

Chapter Four

Mature 

Masterlist

Warnings: A/B/O themes, soulmates, mating, sex, manipulation, power and control.

Oh how can one’s feelings

spin a tale so profound? 

For only true love shall

Determine whether darkness 

Or light shall abound?

You were now queen of an earthland kingdom, you were married to the Dragon King, a mere princess no more

                                                                                                          ✨          👑          ✨

“Gods for the millionth time, I’m fine! Why are you two so worried about this all of the sudden?!” Bakugou snapped, slouching further in his high backed chair.

It made him angry that he’d had to leave you like he did just to meet with these two old geezers! That combined with their repeat line of questioning had him growing increasingly furious. 

“Now more than ever are your draconian instincts going to need regulating Katsuki, you can’t run the risk of letting them get the better of you, if you get upset and do something irresponsible like shifting accidentally, your wife could be in real danger” Jeanist reminds the soon to be king. It was frustrating for a decorated general like himself having to tip toe around the truth. A surprise shift pales in comparison to what those “in the know” truly feared happening. Both himself and Aizawa had made a promise to Midnight that they would advise Bakugou to the best of their abilities in order to keep tragedy from befalling the Royal family once more. If they fail, then what would remain of the kingdom would forever be condemned to suffer, and surely the young King’s soul would be eternally damned.

“You’re sure she’s your true mate? What does your dragon feel about her? If we’re satisfied with its response then we’ll dismiss you for tonight” Aizawa offers, yawning loudly before focusing on the young monarch. Closing his eyes, it’s easy for Katsuki to call forth his dragon and it needs no prodding to talk about you; “I knew she was mine as soon as I laid eyes on her, her scent puts the most expensive perfumes to shame, I’m growing restless, what importance are these stupid human customs when it comes to claiming my mate? I want to kill anyone that looks at her with lust in their eyes, and crush the skull of anyone harboring perverse thoughts about my goddess, she’s mine and im going to make sure she knows it, 

y/n…my greatest treasure”.

“You harbor no ill will towards the lunarian princess? You do not despise the light that radiates from her pure heart?” Jeanist asks, studying the king’s form for any hint the dragon is thinking of uttering a false hood. “Dragon’s protect their mates, our love knows no bounds, our love is eternal, and unconditional…unlike you human’s” snarls the beast. “That’s good enough for now” Aizawa states, signaling for the king’s consciousness to return.

With a fierce display of teeth Bakugou returns, “There, are you geezers happy now?”.

“For now…but I think we should meet once more the morning of the wedding, and weekly after that” Aizawa says, looking at Jeanist for his approval. “I agree, just as a per caution-“ the finely dressed dressed man adds, only to be cut off by a furious snarl. 

“I’m getting real fucking sick of you two insinuating I’m some loose cannon that would bring harm to my woman!” The irate blonde shouts, banging his sparking fist on the table “Ever since I returned home and told you guys about her you’ve been acting weird, is there something going on that I don’t know about?!”.

Both of the older men give each other a side eye, which only proceeds to agitate the temper-mental man further. 

“For years I’ve respected you both for your knowledge and strength, that’s why you became my trusted advisors in the first place! That aside, I’ll tell you one last thing…” the dragon king gets to his feet, leaning forward on the sturdy oak table “If I find out either one of you has been keeping information from me, are aware of any conspiring, privy to any plot against my marriage or that could possibly bring harm to my wife…I will execute you myself…understand?”.

Crimson irises are alight with fury as they stare down the two men. Neither one of them display any emotion as they reply in unison;“Understood, your majesty”.

“Good, this meeting is fucking adjured…Tell the old hag I’m retiring for the evening” with that, the soon to be king storms out of the room, red cape billowing behind him.

Mate is safe, she’s here where she belongs, that’s all that matters…forget their words, the Thoughts and feelings of humans mean nothing when it comes to the bonding between dragons.

With a heavy sigh, Katsuki can’t help but agree.

The day before the wedding has you bombarded with last minute preparations non stop. You’d stood for nearly two hours as the capital’s best seamstress, accompanied by her assistant, took your measurements and quite literally crafted a dress (made from your ideal choice in fabrics) by magic. Naturally everything happening was seen under Queen Mitsuki’s watchful eye. Which allowed the two of you time to bond, the stories of her time as ruler had you looking at her with stars in your eyes. This woman was not to be trifled with; She was a warrior unlike any other, going as far as to ripping out the heart of an enemy general who had attempted to over throw her rule. You weren’t entirely sure how old she was, since it’s rude to ask (but dragons do live extremely long lives), she looked to be in her late twenties, and her mannerisms were every bit as youthful as her outward appearance.

“My son is lucky that the goddess has granted him such a perfect bride, and myself such a wonderful daughter” the older woman says as she marvels at your appearance in the finished wedding gown.

Examining yourself in every angle from the surrounding mirrors you can’t help but be delighted. You finally felt like you were coming into your own as a future queen, not just the daughter of the moon goddess.

As the day wound to a close you were finally dismissed from wedding preparations! Completely worn out, you couldn’t be happier to finally sit down for dinner. A table had been placed in your room to make things easier for the maids helping you get dressed tomorrow. A small spread of food rests atop it, along with four place settings for yourself and the three individuals you insisted dine with you.

“I don’t understand where Katsuki could have run off to, he’s been gone all day…I didn’t even get to see him off this morning, he left before I woke up” you glumly inform your new friends. Serro and Denki took Kirishima’s place in guarding you, as his majesty had apparently needed the bulky redhead for something. “You most likely won’t see him until the wedding your highness, he had plenty of his own preparations to see to” explains Serro. “You gotta tell us your secret on how you deal with him y/n, he’s been so weirdly calm ever since you came to stay” Denki states, tearing his bread roll in half.

“Well I hope to continue keeping the peace around here in the future, I’ll do my best….unfortunately I have no special secret, or method that I use on him” you reply with your usual polite smile in place.

“Not even your “womanly wiles”? Ow! I was joking Mina geez” the electric blonde cries, rubbing the knot on his head.

“Do you want to get executed? You idiot! You are talking to the new queen, if his majesty hears that kind of talk happening around her you are dead!” The pinkette scolds.

“I swear I won’t tell! We’re all friends here, right? No telling the king anything that won’t hurt him!” You exclaim nervously, “That was a hard hit you delivered Mina, how does a hand maiden know anything about hand to hand combat?”. The two men begin to snicker at your question, hiding behind their hands as the pinkette glares at them. “Actually y/n…I have a confession to make…I’m not a hand maiden, I’m the second in command of his majesty’s royal guard” Mina admits, giving you a bow and a wink.

“Wait…what?! Oh no! How rude of me to have been thinking you were my assistant this whole time! Oh goddess, what must you think of my ignorance” you fret, the other three watch you with amused smiles. “You didn’t treat me badly y/n! We’re friends remeber?” Mina asks, using your earlier words against you. “Yes, we are…we’re all friends! Regardless of station, you’re all my precious new friends” you say with a nod, dazzling smile back in place. The rest of the meal was uneventful, your guards tease you about tomorrow’s festivities until it’s time for you to turn in. The two males take their places outside your door, while Mina stays to brush out your hair. Once you bid her good night and get into bed you already know it’s pointless. Your mind and body are abuzz with excitement and anxiety, sleep won’t be coming so easily. Moonlight peeks in through the cracks in the curtains, you sit up noticing the soft glow growing brighter, the shadows shrink back as if they were being burned, the air in the room began to shimmer.

Without any warning a gorgeous woman materializes at the foot of your bed. Her long silver hair sparkles, her deep blue eyes twinkle, she wastes no time in coming to hold you close to her chest. “My sweet girl, so far from home…about to become Queen of this foreign land…my how you’ve grown up so much in such a short time” her voice is as beautiful as the sound of wind chimes in a summer breeze. “Are you proud of me? I’ve finally found my way” you ask, nuzzling into her embrace.

“I am always proud of you, that will never change” Selene responded, holding her princess tightly. 

“I wish you could have met Katsuki before the wedding, I know it all seemed so rushed but words can’t describe how he makes me feel…It’s just right, I know it is” your words are rushed as you try to get everything out in one breath. This makes the moon goddess chuckle, your bottom lip begins to poke out.

“What makes you think I haven’t met him, hm?”

The question hangs in the small space between the two of you.

She motions for you to scoot over and she brings her legs up to rest atop your bed. Her hand begins to caress the top of your head once you’ve gotten comfortable with it laying in her lap. “How? When?” You ask, blinking up at her in adorable confusion. “The first time was about a year ago…the last was around six months ago” Selene says thoughtfully, “Before you get angry at him for not telling you, I used my power and swore him to secrecy, he couldn’t have told you if he wanted to”.

Just as you open your mouth to protest, she cuts you off;

“That story can wait until another day, you need to rest, tomorrow is an exciting day, your mind needs to be focused on the present”.

“You’ll be here tomorrow? From the time I wake up?” You ask as your eyes begin to grow heavy.

“After you get dressed I’ll come to see you, but I want to be seated well before the ceremony begins so I don’t take away any attention from you, we’ll have time to talk afterwards, good night my love” as soon as her words reach your ears you fall asleep.

“Your majesty”

You’re suddenly roused from the most peaceful slumber you’ve had in ages. 

“Princess, it’s time to wake up”

“Mm awake…jus need a minute” you murmur groggily, yawning and rubbing your eyes. 

“We prepared a light breakfast for you your highness, it’s on the table” says a maid to your left.

“Would you mind if we applied some oils to your hair while you eat? That way once you finish, it will be ready to wash out before you get in the bath” says the maid to your right, who places a robe over your night gown.

“Whatever you guys need to do is fine, let me know however I can help make this easier on you” you replied, shuffling over to the table that had a single plate amongst a number of other items. Unwrapping the silk scarf from your hair both maids lightly brush out your strands and set to work applying the conditioning mixture. It doesn’t take long to finish your toast, handful of grapes and swig down the cup of tea that made up your breakfast.

The same two maids usher you into the bathroom and you’re immediately reminded of that first day with Mina and Momo. Only you aren’t nearly as shy when you allow these women to exfoliate your entire body and scrub all your cracks and crevices. It was during that time each of them gave you their names.

“You have such a lovely complexion, it’s nothing like I’ve ever seen before!” Hakagure croons as she and Tsu finish drying you off. “Is it true you come from the moon, princess?” The green dress the dark haired woman wears reminds you of a frog’s skin. Especially with the off putting way her tongue seems to peek from between her lips on occasion. “Yes, that’s where I was born…” you replied, hesitating to disclose any more private information to these two women. So you skirt around any further personal questions, just replying politely to mundane small talk as they got you ready. Mina stuck her head in to check on you a little while later, and immediately took over the task of styling your hair. Demoting Tsu to polishing your now sharpened nails as she did so. Momo entered shortly after that greeting you and giving congratulations before handing you a silk bag.

“Ooooh let me see!” Mina squeals as you examine the contents. Reaching in you grabbed out what appeared to be a scrap of lace, confusion had you looking further into the bag and upon further inspection your face burns with embarrassment.

“You‘ll change into them after the ceremony!” Ponytail assured you “Those things are for his majesty’s eyes only, so don’t feel embarrassed”. The pinkette snickers, waggling the hair brush at you, “I’ll help you put them on 

y/n don’t worry!”. The other two women laughed along with her while Momo berated them for such childish behavior. The memories of having the king pressed up against you the other night immediiiately came to mind.

“Treasure…”

Just remembering the way he sounded growling in your ear as he ground into you against the wall. It had a flush crawling up from the tips of your toes to the roots of your hair. “I need to tell you guys something…so I can ask some questions…and I hate how this will sound so commanding…” purposefully using the repeat pause between words to build up the nerve you needed, your eyes briefly close. When they reopen any flicker of insecurity or hesitation was absent, the e/c irises now sparkling with confidence,

“As your soon to be Queen I demand that any part of this conversation is not repeated outside of this room, is that clear?”.

A cheerful chorus of “Yes, your highness” comes from each of the women helping you get ready.

A relieved sigh allows you to relax against the high backed chair you occupy, “I’ve never had any sort of intimate encounter with anyone, let alone anyone of draconian descent sooooo…What exactly am I supposed to do? How will our um…how will he? Oh goddess you lot know what I mean right?!”. So much for the cool, calm, collected persona you’d channeled seconds ago.

MoMo clears her throat in attempt to hide her embarrassment, “Ahem, well my lady if I may, since you are looking for pointers on how to go about consummation-“

“Bite him!” Mina interrupted.

“Scratch and growl at him!” Hagakure exclaims.

“Stroke his ego” Tsu offers.

“Ladies please!” Momo shouts, the other three are still tittering with laughter as she clears her throat once more “Now as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, when it comes to consummation in our culture”.

Now that her mediative hour had concluded Midnight gets to her feet, stretching her limbs to combat the soreness from being stationary for so long. Extinguishing the incense she’d been burning, the dark haired woman moved across the room to push back the heavy drapes and throw open the large floor to ceiling windows. Inhaling a large breath of fresh air, she savored the taste of spring on her tongue. The oracle was optimistic, her cheery disposition had been favorable as of late. Eyeing the dark purple slip and black robes she planned to wear for the days festivities, she began to get ready.

Only for a sharp rap on her door to interrupt, her cheeks puff out in frustration as she hurried to answer it. The two men on the other side don’t wait to exchange pleasantries as she allows them entry.

“How did your talk with his majesty go?” 

The difference between the two men was always similar to that of night and day. Today however, it could be considered comical; With Jeanist in his perfectly pressed dark blue General dress robes adorned with shining silver metals, matching cuff links sparkling brilliantly. Standing tall beside Aizawa in his black Dress robes with a few obvious wrinkles but equally decorated with badges of honor, his tattered scarf ever present around his neck. The latter speaks first; “The king was more on edge than usual, I’d chalk that up to pre wedding jitters, the beast-“.

His companion is quick to take over the explanation, “The dragon gave the same answers as we reported the other night, I detected no treachery or malicious intent, to be honest it seemed preoccupied…possibly a bit bored”.

“So it’s thoughts were elsewhere? Where might that be, my lord?” asks Midnight from behind her changing stands, an airy chuckle reaching their ears. “I hardly think it’s up for discussion if there was no indication of hostility towards the Princess” Jeanist replied in a clipped tone, but professional as always. Stepping out in her new outfit, the oracle grabs a black ribbon off her vanity and moves towards the dark haired man. 

“Since you will be amongst the audience you’ll get a chance to see the two of them interact, we can rehash our individual thoughts after the ceremony concludes” Aizawa says with an annoyed huff as Midnight pulls his hair back, tying the ribbon around his messy locks.

“I agree with that, now which of you is escorting me?” Her violet eyes fluttering as she smiles at the men, even though she knows the answer.

Jeanist opens the door, gesturing for the Oracle and Advisor to go ahead of him. “Don’t forget to lock it!” The woman calls as she tosses a key towards the sharp dressed man. Heeding her request, Jeanist shakes his head as Midnight’s patronizing giggles echo down the hallway.

“Are you nervous?”

The question comes from one of the two older women sitting behind you. It was strange to see Selene and Mitsuki enjoying a cup of tea together in this setting.

Both beautiful in their own right, two powerful women, one a queen of this earth land kingdom, and the other a queen residing over the moon that oversees this blue planet from the heavens above. It was the moon goddess herself that had made an offhand suggestion that perhaps Mitsuki would be able to trace her lineage back to the warrior queen of Mars. They both chuckled at this, and watching their exchange you can’t help but wonder if there just might be truth to her claim.

Seeing them get along so well made you feel at ease.

“A little” you admit, examining your reflection in the mirror for the umpteenth time “But listening to your banter has made it easier to relax, you two seem more like old friends rather than two women who just met the morning of their children’s wedding”. Both women looked towards each other before looking back at you with smiles on their faces. Almost like they knew something you weren’t aware of.

“Maybe Goddess Selene will bless us mere mortals with her presence more often now that you’re here” Mitsuki’s voice had a slight teasing tone about it, and you could swear your mother had the slightest flush to her cheeks.

“Careful what you wish for, what if you were to grow tired of my constant intrusions? Then I’d have to give you twelve years of bad luck” Selene replies, as quick witted as ever, yet her tone held no malice.

“Mother!” You squeaked, shocked she would even joke about such a thing. The two older women laughed at your reaction. 

“Well I suppose I should go check in on Katsuki, I haven’t seen him yet today” the blonde woman says as she gets to her feet.

“You haven’t seen him at all?” You ask confused.

“That boy is a nightmare to deal with when he’s preparing for an important event, one could hardly blame me for preferring the company of two lovely celestial ladies over the company of my foul mouthed brat” she replies, patting you on the back as she walks past. Only to pause at the door and glance back at Selene, “I’ll meet you in the foyer in fourty-five minutes?” She asks.

Your mother nods and the two of them hold eye contact for a few seconds before the blonde woman leaves the two of you alone.

“How long have you known?” 

The question is sudden and quiet.

The goddess sighed before answering your question,

“After you fell asleep last night she came to your room and sought me out, I just found out”. You merely nod in response, now wasn’t the time to confront her about it.

“You look so beautiful, I’m happy that you followed your own path, I raised a perfect young woman” Selene comes to stand behind you, wrapping an arm around you.

The both of your reflections smiled in the mirror, “Oh no! I forgot to ask you-“ your sudden exclamation was hushed by your mother “I have it”. The shimmering piece of selenite appeared in your hand, it was crafted into a perfect crescent shape, a small gold hoop stuck through the top. “Thank you momma” you gushed happily “It’s perfect”. “I have one more thing to give you” she replied, moving towards your dresser. She brought back a small stone box with a large moon on the lid, ancient inscriptions were carved in on all sides proving its age. 

“This belonged to my great grandmother, and now it’s yours” 

The handsome (albeit grumpy) king readjusted the gold chain and fang necklaces around his neck for the umpteenth time. An annoyed growl rips from his throat as he takes the smaller few off. Looking back In the mirror he nods, now sporting only the largest golden chain and his newest piece made from the fangs of the ancient dragon he’d slayed recently. The Royal jeweler had just delivered it this morning, along with a few other pieces that Bakugou had also requested be made.

“Very impressive your majesty” Kirishima says with a flash of his own fanged smile. The red head and three other members of the king’s personal guard lean against the wall of Bakugou’s bedroom closest to the door. Just the five of them occupied the room, the servants that had tried assisting the temperamental Royal at getting ready had vacated the premises a long time ago.

“Looking a little nervous my king” Kaminari says offhandedly.

“Not getting cold feet are you?” Serro is quick to add, both men smirking at the king’s now obviously ruffled feathers.

Katsuki whirls around on them with clenched teeth and fire alight in his eyes, and just as he opens his mouth to begin a ferocious tirade, the bedroom door opens.

“You clean up well brat” Queen Mitsuki teases her son as she enters the room “Would you four give us a moment, it’s about time for you to take your places”.

A chorus of “Yes your majesty” comes from the four knights as they single file out of the room.

“Here it is, the day of my first and only son’s wedding…The day you will become king in more than just words, this land will be not just your’s to rule but your Queen’s as well” the blonde woman comes to stand before her son, “I know your father is proud of you, and I am just as proud of the man that you have become Katsuki”. The way his mother wraps her arms around him comes as a surprise to the king, he is still quick to return her hug just as tight, mumbling a soft “Love ya mom”. When the two of them separated the older woman dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her dress, “Don’t you dare hold this against me, I’m probably going to be bawling more than once today”.

“Wouldn’t dream of it hag”

“So much for a sentimental moment between mother and son, you brat”.

“My lady, it’s time” the voice of a servant alerted you. Taking one last look at your reflection, the glittering tiara atop your head fills you with new confidence. The magic that flowed through your veins even seemed to be amplifying thanks to the treasured heirloom. You had to walk yourself down the aisle, which would mean that every eye will be focused solely on you. Remembering that you are a representation of the lunarian kingdom, you were sure to stand tall and proud, walking with the utmost grace. Exiting the open door, a beautiful burgundy rug has been laid out over the grass, leading down the sloping palace grounds, between the many rows of occupied seats. Excited whispers began as everyone turned to watch you walking down the aisle.

“Absolutely stunning!”

“Is she really from the moon?”

“How beautiful our new queen is!”

The compliments only made you more reassured in your self-confidence. You look towards where the rug ends, seeing steps leading up a raised platform and your heart skipped a beat. The Dragon King stands waiting for you in all his glory; His usual fur lined cape is draped over his shoulders, tribal ink snaking up his impressive biceps, that unintentionally flex as his arms are crossed in front of his chest. The golden chain around his neck glitters, drawing your attention to the second necklace he wore made up of black beads and large jagged teeth. Somehow you manage to keep yourself from hurrying forward. Each step you take is slow, and meaningful and once you finally reach the bottom step Katsuki reaches a hand out to you. Which you take and return his firm grip with a squeeze, allowing yourself to be led up the remaining few steps. He resembles something like a demigod, with the way his blonde hair shines in the sunlight, surrounding his head similar to the halo of an angel. Both of you smile as you take in the appearance of one another, quick to become lost in each other’s eyes. The priest clears his throat and it puts an end to the stupor you two were seemingly caught up in.

“Today marks a momentous event that will forever change history; A bridge between heaven and earth, the joining of celestial and terran, the blessed union between our Dragon King and the Lunarian princess” the elderly man says, pausing to allow the applause and cheering of the crowd. It was nice to see the few hundred or so people seated in chairs closest to the raised platform, but it was astounding to see all of the hundreds if not thousands of people, along with magical creatures, crowded in to the castle grounds. Those that didn’t fit were seated atop the heads of dragons, enabling them to watch the ceremony despite being behind the protective walls.

Turning your head away from the crowd, the squeeze of the grip on your hands has your eyes flitting upwards. Looking into Katsuki’s eyes was like being swept up in a harsh current. The priests words were immediately garbled nonsense, you were drowning in a sea of red. The veil over your face fluttered in the wind, and the king says something aloud. 

The smile he gives you has you feeling weak in the knees.

“Princess Y/n”

The sound of your title has you standing at attention, listening to the priest’s words intently;

“Do you take King Bakugou Katsuki as your husband? To have and hold through good times and bad? To stand beside him and rule this country to the best of your ability as a queen and wife?”.

“I do and I shall” you replied confidently, squeezing the large hands holding your own.

“Then by the power invested in me, witnessed by all that are here, I now pronounce you husband and wife” as soon as the words were said the veil was lifted from your face and Katsuki was kissing you. The kiss was deep and breath stealing, you could feel the desire and happiness in it. Cheers had broken out all around the courtyard, the roars and shouts echoing from all around the kingdom. Just as your lungs began to burn from lack of air did the kiss finally end.

“I now present your new King and Queen!” Announces the priest, holding his arms open as he declares this to the crowd.

The events that followed all happened in such a rapid procession, it felt like you were wrapped up in a sort of whirlwind.

You remember receiving hugs from both Mitsuki and your mother, but after that it was just a bunch of congratulations, well wishes, and handshakes from a variety of strangers. It was only once you were ushered back into your bedroom that you could take a moment to breathe. Sitting down on the soft bed everything had started to sink in; You were now queen of an earthland kingdom, you were married to the Dragon King, a mere princess no more. Speaking of which, you hadn’t gotten a single moment with your husband, the kiss at the altar was the only one you’d gotten thus far. He hadn’t said a word while you two were being bombarded by the gathering well wishers. You hadn’t even been able to give him your present…

Fishing the selenite out from your cleavage, you sighed. Without warning the door of the room burst open and in came Mina and Momo.

The latter holding three champagne flutes, while the former clutched a half empty bottle.

“Congratulations y/n!” The pinkette cheered, hugging you happily.

Kicking the door shut behind her, the dark haired woman strides over gracefully, offering you one of the flutes, “How about a toast before we help you get ready for your special night?”. “Ah yes! That would be lovely” you smile, taking the glass as you get to your feet.

“To our new queen, and beloved friend y/n! May your marriage be happy and the fires stemming from undying love as well as passion never extinguish!” Mina exclaims and the three of you clink glasses.

Laughter proceeds only after you’d each drained your respective glass, along with Momo giving Mina a hard time about her ridiculous toast.

True to her word, Mina had indeed helped you Into the garments from that silk bag.

You couldn’t bare the embarrassment as you peeked at your reflection in the full body mirror. The two women had made sure to bathe you throughly once again. “The king won’t react well to anyone else’s scents on you during your bonding” Momo had explained, as you gave her glove covered hands a strange look.

They rubbed you down with a slightly vanilla scented, shimmering body oil (Apparently it was close to your natural scent, according to Mina). Now you were standing in the middle of your room skin glittering, clad in what was essentially scraps of silk, with dragon scale accents that hid your nipples and pussy (barely). Just as you were downing another glass of champagne, the girls pulled a thin, floor length black cloak over your shoulders. Making sure it was secured before placing a cape over your shoulders. “A gift from the King” you had been told. The outside fabric was thick and white while the inside was a black velvet, and a black fur made up the collar. It was almost just like the one your husband always wore. Your helpers made sure everything was fastened to keep any of your unmentionables from slipping out.

Just as they both stood back to admire you, a loud knock could be heard on the door. “You’re all set! You look lovely your majesty” Momo smiles. “Remember everything I told you! Especially that last bit! Just relax It’s going to be great, no worries!” Mina reminds you cheerfully as the two of them accompany you out of the door.

Kirishima was standing there waiting to escort you with his usual smile in place, he offers you his arm. Taking hold of it, the knight begins to usher you down the hall, both ladies cheering until you rounded the corner. “You look very nice my lady” the red head compliments, keeping his eyes forward but still smiling all the same. “Thank you…” you appreciate the compliment but the nervousness you felt grew with each step forward.

Finally reaching the end of the hallway, its down a short staircase and the knight opens a door for you. Another exit from the castle you weren’t aware of. The breeze is gentle, and stars are beginning to twinkle in the twilight sky. You see your mother and Mitsuki talking to Katsuki, who immediately looks towards you as you walk across the grass. His intense gaze has your face heating up, and if both your mothers weren’t standing there he probably would have pounced on you. Once you come to stand beside the three of them your king takes your hand in his and kisses the back of it “Ready to go?”. The spot his lips touched sends tingles throughout your body, all you can do is nod in reply. “You two have fun” Mitsuki says while pulling you into a hug.

“Mother, I thought you and I-“

Selene interrupts you before giving a hug of her own, “Plenty of time for that when the two of you return, enjoy this special time with your husband”.

You don’t have time to argue due to the sudden appearance of a familiar red dragon waiting just a few feet away. Bakugou bids your mothers goodbye and scoops you up bridal style. He doesn’t set you down once the two of you are seated, you stay in his lap as Kirishima takes flight. Katsuki groans as takes in your scent, nipping and kissing the sensitive flesh “Been waiting for this moment all day, could hardly wait to get my hands on you”. One of his hands slips beneath the cloak to run up your bare legs. Your toes curl as he squeezes one of your thick thighs, he doesn’t miss a beat when engaging you in another passionate lip lock. Your fingers lightly caress his cheeks before running them down to his pecs.

Your tongue tangles with his when you finally feel yourself slicking up.

The wetness between your thighs reminds you that a thin string is the only thing there to catch any drips, and you’d rather not leave a wet spot on your new husband’s pant leg.

Breaking the kiss, you rest your forehead against his as you catch your breath. “My king…I’m sorry if I may not act like a proper lady tonight, I hope that come sunrise you won’t hold any of my actions against me” You say with a sigh, moving your head back to properly look him in the eye. A blonde brow is raised before a sinister smile appears on the king’s handsome face, “oho is that a challenge or a threat? my queen”. Your eyes catch sight of the slivers of sharp canines in his mouth, and your gaze lingers on them as you quietly reply, “It’s neither…I just don’t exactly feel like my usual self right now, not to say I’m someone else but my feelings are unfamiliar and overwhelming”.

Gently you reach for one of his hands and guide it towards your chest, laying it over your heart.

A sudden shyness comes over you, and looking up at him with innocent eyes you enquire, “Do you feel it?”.

Unbeknownst to you, Katsuki had been able to hear the pitter patter of your heart this entire time.

How adorable, it’s just like a bunny that’s been cornered by a hungry wolf

He can’t help but agree, his hold on you becomes impossibly tighter.

Eliminating any space between your bodies, he cradles the back of your head in a large palm. Guiding you to rest it in between his neck and shoulder. “S’normal to be nervous treasure, because after tonight you will be a different person” your king presses a kiss to your forehead “Just relax for now, it won’t be much longer until we arrive”. Something inside of you feels as though Katsuki’s voice has this underlying nefarious tone to it. An abrupt shiver shoots down your spine, in attempts to soak in the natural warmth that radiates off his skin you’re quickly wrapping your arms around your lover.

The wind is always a bit cooler at night, especially at this altitude. That explains where these continuous chills are coming from.

Right?

A/N: Something I didn’t call attention to at the end of last chapter; If you read the prophecy laid out in the prologue, and compare it to the version that Izuku reads during the flight in chapter 3 you’ll notice quite a big difference! Just to explain that in case anybody didn’t catch onto it; Only a few people in the kingdom were made aware of the complete prophecy that Midnight spoke of. There was a heavily censored version that was put out to the kingdom’s general public and it’s regarded in a celebratory way. So much so, the people turned it into a nursery rhyme song for children. This is because they remain ignorant to the other half of it. The version they know only speaks of the king finding love and that the kingdom will in turn be blessed and forever remain prosperous.I felt this was important for me to explain, just so nobody is thinking “This bitch is so dumb she can’t even remember words that she wrote three chapters prior 🙄”.I would hope none of you think that negatively of me 😅 It sure doesn’t seem that way but just Incase! ❤️‍🔥 So any thoughts or theories as to what’s going on or going to happen?

Thank you all for every like, share, comment and follow! 

Honorable mentions 💌

@lalachanya  @mrsmelaninhood 

@whatdidshesayyy @faemagic88

@viridianhero  @alishii @rv19 

@maggiecc @crazy-eight17 @nnubee @nemisimp @yesitsmewhataboutit 

[botanikos]

Good evening! 

While I hate to make such a large announcement and “kill the vibe” for the weekend, I really do need to set something straight. The world outside of roleplay is tumultuous and full of horrors, ailments, and struggles unique to each day. Writing is a hobby for many of us, I assume, and a reprieve from the chaos that hounds us. However, I cannot speak for anyone else; these are my words, and my feelings. 

I made this blog as a means to connect with others and write! Roleplay, to me, is what I have always enthusiastically described as collaborative storytelling. Not only that, but it is one of the easiest and most accessible and enjoyable means of relief for me. I get on my silly little blog to write and goof off. To step away from everything else around me. Sure, occasionally I let my own feelings for the day seep into my writing - but who doesn’t use their muse as a means to an end when things have been a little rough? In the end, I am here to have fun!

Like anyone else, however, I am unfortunately and fatally…human. I have feelings such as doubt, anger, frustration, anxiety, joy, compassion, etc.. There will be times where I may have the desire or need to let these feelings be known in an OOC post. It is my blog, and that is my right! That is every individual’s right; your blog should always be your safe space, and that is exactly what mine is: A safe space. That being said, I work hard to keep my blog safe not only for myself, but for my mutuals or anyone who might come across it. I tag anything and everything I should or can, when I remember to do so and as I see fit. What I will NOT engage in however, is drama, venting, or negative specific vague-posting. And I refuse to consistently let it be a constant presence any longer. 

WHAT DOES THIS MEAN? 

My blog will remain a safe space for anyone seeking comfort, reprieve, or looking for advice provided we are mutuals. You may always approach me with any questions or concerns, especially if it is in regards to my/our writing or content on my blog. I encourage any discussions to be held in privacy between us either through tumblr IM or Discord (available upon request or when I occasionally offer it on the dash). 

I will NOT unfollow anyone for the occasional vent post. OOC venting and feelings are FINE! I make those too! My blog will have a LOT of OOC postings throughout the week and even peppered between replies and activity. My DMs are ALWAYS open if you are having a particularly hard time, and need someone to talk to (albeit, I may be delayed). 

What I WILL UNFOLLOW FOR includes but is not limited to: harassment of any kind, bullying, constant negativity, constant trauma dumping, constant acknowledgement of anonymous hate-mail, constant complaints of lack of interaction (ONLY if I have knowledge that I have reached out multiple times or reason to assume others have done so too), negative or derogatory vague posting of other users. Also, please keep in mind that I have other responsibilities outside of tumblr. While I may not immediately receive your message, see it, or response to it, it does not mean it will go ignored! Though it is no one's business, I have my own chronic conditions and experience varying degrees of social burn-out. I love chatting but can become easily overwhelmed! Give me time!

IN REGARDS TO BLOCKING - I do not block anyone without reason. So far, I have only ever blocked spam or porn bots. However, if I grow uncomfortable or have reason to doubt the safety of my space, I will not hesitate to hard block. You will not be given a warning, because again, I do not do this often / at all thus far. And for me to take this sort of action, it simply means I am unwilling to communicate my discomfort and for what I believe to be, good reason. I do not immediately block people I unfollow because on most occasions, if I unfollow someone it is either A) an accident or B) just that I don't vibe or see us interacting anytime soon or in the future. This does not inherently mean this won't change! Maybe later on I have expanded my abilities or have newfound interest / new perspectives! Neat! But unfollowing does not warrant an immediate block from me. Blocking is a SOLID and DEFINITE sentence. I do not do it lightly.

Please understand that I still wish to be a positive presence and will continue to do my best to provide this! But even I have my limits, my own external struggles, and I am weary… So very, very tired. 

If you have any GENUINE questions or concerns, please do not hesitate to reach out to me! I value communication and compassion above all things, and will happily engage in a civilized conversation about anything you might find unclear. 

Thanks for reading! 

Jude

[harringtonstilinski]

Sports Knowledge - Stiles Stilinski

Author: @harringtonstilinski Characters: Stiles Stilinski x Emma Thomas Word Count: 1,276 Warnings: fluff, set in summer 2012, Smut: no | yes; Requested: Yes. This is so short, I'm so sorry!! 😩 But, I hope this meets your expectations, @fandom-princess-forevermore A/N: Hi, friends! We have - 🥁 🥁 🥁 - A STEMMA FIC fic!! I miss them, hahaa. We're gonna stick this in between seasons 2 & 3! I hope you like this! If you do, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

“You’re wrong.”

“How am I wrong? I know more about this team than you do.”

“Fine. How many World Series have they won?”

“Two. Next.” I looked at Stiles, taking a bite of my sub sandwich. 

I could tell that Stiles was thinking about his next question for a moment before giving me an opened mouth smile. “Best player-” I went to interrupt him, but he cut me off with the rest of his question. “-ever.”

Taking a deep breath, I thought about it before asking, “Personal preference or statistically?”

“Let’s go statistically,” he smiled, popping a chip into his mouth.

Sighing, I had to wrack my brain for the answer, looking dead into Stiles’ eyes. “Is it…-” I looked down at the table, my eyes dancing around as I muttered, “Fuck, I know this.” Looking back up at him, I asked, “Is it… Tom Seaver?”

Stiles’ eyes almost shot out of their sockets with how wide they went. “Holy shit, that’s right?” Looking under the table, he asked, “You got your phone out or something?” When he brought his head back up, he looked at me as I laughed, my hand over my mouth.

“No,” I said, trying to control my laughter.

“Well, then how did you know that?”

I couldn’t help the scream that came out, my hand still covering my mouth as I laughed. “Because you told me!”

Leaning closer to the table as I snorted, Stiles whispered, “You’re making a scene. Calm down.”

“I’m trying,” I laughed, wiping at my eyes. Taking deep breaths, I still had a smile on my face. Hearing snickers had my attention turning a few of the lacrosse players that were on the team with Scott and Stiles.

“Who’s the best lacrosse player on the team?” I asked, a little too loudly.

Confused, Stiles turned to see who or what I was looking at; seeing Joey Anderson and their goons from the team. He turned back to look at me, seeing the rage in my eyes that I was sure was there. Casting his eyes down to look at his food, he sighed, “Let it go, Em.”

“How the hell can I let it go?” I asked. “They almost cost me my spot on the team.” I looked at Stiles as his head snapped back up to look at me.

“You’re the coach’s niece,” he deadpanned. “You’re not gonna lose your job.”

I sighed, sitting back in my chair, playing with the straw in my cup. When I looked at him, he was resting his chin in his hand, a small soft smile on his face. “What?”

Stiles shook his head, looking down while crossing his arms across the table, leaning on them. “You’re just… so beautiful.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, trying not to smile as I looked out the window. When I side eyed him, I couldn’t help the smile that formed on my lips as he said, “You’re so pretty.” I raised a brow at him, his smile ever present on his face.

“You’re beau-,” Stiles said, but was interrupted by Joey and his goons.

“Hey, Stilinski!” Joey said. “You trying to fit in now or what?” Stiles stiffened, Joey’s words getting to him. He was growing his hair out and I was loving it. His hair had the smallest of spikes to it; baby spikes, if you will. I was sad when I woke up one morning and his baby face was all but gone. His new hair makes up for it.

“Hey, Anderson,” I said, standing from my seat. I started walking over towards his table, but Stiles’ hand in mine stopped me. “How about you - I don’t know - go home and spend time with Mary Palmer and her five sisters while watching your favorite porno site since, ya’know, you can’t get any.” I didn’t wait for a reply as I turned and grabbed my stuff, food included, and walked out of the restaurant to Stiles’ Jeep.

Feeling Stiles’ body next to mine, I looked up at him, sheepishly. “I can’t open the door.”

“Why not?” he asked, confused

Holding my hands up, I showed him the items in my hands; my phone, drink and bag that I had put my sandwich back in after wrapping it. “My hands are full.”

He sighed, exasperatedly before moving to open the door for me. I knew he would anyway. He’d been doing it since Noah taught him how to drive this hunk of junk.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered, walking away from me. 

I chuckled and got into my seat, setting my sandwich bag on the floor by my feet, taking a sip of my drink as Stiles got into the driver seat, starting up the Jeep. He stopped all movement as I looked over at him. “What’s up, babe?”

Stiles looked over at me, looking into my eyes for a second before softly smiling. Shaking his head, he said, “Nothing.”

With a fake sad face, I looked at him and asked, “Is it because I was starting to kick your ass in sports knowledge?”

He chuckled, backing out of our parking spots to head to our next destination. “No. And we barely even got started before Anderson distracted you.”

“Eh, he’s just mad I won’t spread my legs for him. He’s also a dick. Like, the biggest. I mean, his stats on the team aren’t that great. He’s barely even on the field, his stats are not great, and he’s just a fucking tool.” I was silent for a moment while I thought my words over, my eyebrows scrunching in finality. “Ya’know what? Fuck him. He’s not even worth my time.”

Looking over at Stiles, I asked, “Ya’know what is worth my time?”

“What?” he asked with a chuckle, that smirk I loved so much on him showing up.

“Kicking your ass in sports knowledge.” 

When he spared a glance at me, I smiled big.

“Okay, sassypants,” he said. “Give me the top 5 Mets players on the team right now.”

Without missing a beat, I answered, “In no specific order; David Wright, Matt Harvey, Jon Niese, R.A. Dickey, Ruben Tejada.” I looked over at Stiles, straw between my teeth as I watched the blush on his cheeks rise up. Trying to hide the smile that was forming, I asked him, “Are you blushing?”

In that Stiles way that I loved about him, - no, we haven’t said those words yet - he started to get even more flustered, as he looked between me and the road. “Bl-blushing?” He scoffed, trying to act all cool and shit. “Pshh. I don’t blush.”

With the most deadpan expression I could muster, I replied, “You do and you are.”

“N… no.”

“Stiles.”

“Okay, fine,” he breathed. Looking over at me, I saw the hint of a smile on his lips. “It’s hot, okay. You knowing all this stuff about the Mets.”

Reaching over to card my finger through the hair at the nape of his neck, I smiled and replied, “Well, I have the best teacher.”

That hint of a smile on his face grew into that fucking smirk that could make my panties drop. Opening my mouth to say those three words, I stopped myself, instead bringing my hand from his hair to his hand, lacing our fingers together.

Beating me to the punch, Stiles brought my knuckles to his mouth, placing soft kisses to each one. “What do you say to us going home, grabbing my laptop and marathoning Back to the Future while we finish our subs.”

I smiled so big, my cheeks were sure to hurt within the next five seconds. “I’d love that.”

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

A/N 2:  hi, friends! gif is supposed to be stiles all flustered and shit. let me know what you thought about! again, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox.

Additional Notes: i hate that this is so freaking short.. i'm off my stiles game, lol. also, if the world series thing at the beginning is wrong, pls excuse the error! my research might've been wrong..

~~~

Forever / Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24 @stixnstripesworld @fandom-princess-forevermore @quanticobae @mischiefandi @kellyashcroft @lauren-novak​

If you’re tagged and didn’t want to be, please let me know.

Italics wouldn’t let me tag!

~~~

*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @harringtonstilinski.

All characters, story lines, and plot aside from y/n and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of Jeff Davis.

*These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.

No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

Posted on February 29, 2024

[notfinancialadvice]

It's been awhile, but I have a new thought for folks starting out investing

This blog is called "not financial advice" so this is not financial advice. Nothing on this blog is.

And.

I am working on a large-scale D&D-style banking system for a private client (my job is weird). This is putting me in touch with a lot of people in very expensive suits and it I keep pinging them:

"Let's say someone has $100 to start investing, what should they do. Like, literally $100. With $0.00 added after."

I've cobbled together some thoughts (not advice don't sue me) and cut out the bullshit and sales pitches.

Start a high-yield savings account in an FDIC insured bank. As of this writing (April 27, 2023, United States-based), it'll be somewhere between 3.5 - 4.25% APY (annual percent yield -- i.e. interest)

Go with a bank that is FDIC insured. Banks pay for this, you do not. Here are smart people talking about what FDIC is.

The percentage difference listed above is 0.75%. Moving money is a bitch, is it worth chasing 0.75%? That depends on your situation, time, etc. Here are smart people who built a calculator to help you figure it out if it's worth it to you.

Touch it as little as possible.

Start a spreadsheet that tracks your finances.

In the cell that lists the amount of this balance, give it a name. Something fun, something that speaks to you. I did this as an experiment + to participate, mine is "Slime Research Adventurer Destruction Fund".

Write a prospectus (fancy word for "this is what the goal for this cash is to do").

Slime Research Adventurer Destruction Fund prospectus: Follow the path of high-yield savings rates at {bank}. Review quarterly if other banks have a substantially better rate (+1.5%).

The entire point is to break the idea of "them not me" and "today vs. someday" and "I cannot begin to build wealth vs. someone else can."

A $100 savings INVESTMENT IN A SAVINGS ACCOUNT with a rate of 3.5-4.25% will give you interest of $3.50-4.25 at the end of the first year, then continue on growing onwards.

That is your return.

Is it as high as investing in the market? No.

Is it safer? Holy fuck yes.

When you invest in stocks, bonds, etc. you are looking for a return. This is your return.

This is not a grindset mindset work 24/7 chunk of advice. This is not a reality-disillusionment "I am struggling I need to work harder."

You need to be knowledgable about how things can work for you so you can leverage what you have, where you are, when you have it, as you can.

A high-yield savings account is not going to make you rich.

It probably won't make a difference in an emergency.

It will absolutely make a difference in non-emergency times, over a period of time.

Slime Research Adventurer Destruction Fund Destroying Adventurers.

That last point is where I'm coming to.

If you don't have enough cash to invest and/or you're not comfortable investing, that's fine.

Give your savings account a name that speaks to you. This is your investment. Your savings account = your investment account.

There is no moral or ethical difference between "I have cash shoved into a savings account" and "I have cash shoved into the stock market."

The only difference is potential risk, growth, and fees (never pay for a savings account), liquidity ("how quickly can I convert this thing into cash to buy an apple at the grocery store, pay a bill, etc.").

Make money less scary via weird names and fun graphics.

Go to a piccrew site and make a catgirl with pink and blue hair.

Name your fund "Catgirlsnax Fundsies".

Make. Money. Management. Less. Scary. By. Taking. Control. Via your own. Desires. Goals. Weird quirks.

Here is to hoping these gifs are not from horrible shows I don't know anime I know money and business and monsters.

If they are then I apologize for it.

I've read the notes on my blog and a lot of you like anime. I'm hoping these resonate.

[meowkusunoki]

toa tsumigram analysis

@tsumigram

here's my "t2 toa is a different alter" propaganda. for simplicity's sake, i'll highlight what i think is trial 1 toa with green and not-trial-1 toa with orange. i will be calling the system as a whole toasys.

also, i don't know if this is common knowledge or if i'm digging up obscure lore but toa is a system

(we were being silly)

I can smile and throw a peace sign on the school photo, but I’m inexpressive and quiet, someone like this is a perfect listener, so others naturally give their secrets to me.  You're all lucky that I easily forget them, because I couldn't care less, but it's fine, it's a fair trade — tell me anything, just don't ever leave me in solitude.*

Ahh, I hate being called weird. I don't care if people lie to me or use me; but I hate being ignored and pushed away. The truth is that, I don't hear what I'm saying; because my only purpose is to fill the silence, or because I’m so much, so much afraid, the reality grows unreachably distant…*

Q.15: Crowded or isolated places? Crowded. I don't like being alone.

*...actually, i also have a theory that memory report toa is a different alter. but i will get into it another day. either way i still have the Q15 answer on my side!!

so, from all this you'd expect that being isolated would cause toa a lot of distress right? but he seems perfectly calm. granted, he could be suppressing or just hiding his distress, but there comes a point where you're far past being able to do something like that.

It's not that my personality has changed. It's rather the circumstances that enabled another behavior of mine. It might be surprising, but I’m as multifaceted as any other human.

basically, what i think happened is that the stress of being isolated caused toasys to switch to an alter that's more aloof/uncaring. i think that's the alter that is narrating the unknown memory as well, but i'll get more into that later.

Oh, name? I'm Suzuki Toa. Uhh, I don't have much to say about myself, though. It's pretty awkward… talking about myself.

Toa: Ahh, is that so. I'm not good at talking about myself. It's pretty awkward… But, I'll do my best. I'm 15 years old and studying at school. Umm, what else? Oh, right, my name is Suzuki Toa I guess.

Toa Suzuki. 16 years old. I don’t have a lot of hobbies, and being called a “friend” annoys me. It’s nice of you to talk to me. 

It's not that my personality has changed. It's rather the circumstances that enabled another behavior of mine. It might be surprising, but I’m as multifaceted as any other human.

toa has a hard time talking about himself, as he finds it awkward, but toa has no such qualms. also it's worth to note that his way of speaking is completely different. well-spoken and formal, meanwhile toa has a much more informal manner of speech, often going "uhh" or "umm" and saying "like".

Toa: The verdict… I don't know. Those voting options have so much personality in them. If I were to choose what describes me, it'd be a Bystander. Someone who is not even in the interaction…

If you consider me a Perpetrator, should I act like one? Is this what you’d like to see? Rest assured. I’m too much of a coward to do any real harm. …Did I say something wrong again?

toa seems much more accepting of the verdict. admittedly this one's kinda reachy but this is overanalyzing 6 lines of dialogue hours.

anyway, onto the unknown memories. i brought this up in the tags, but most characters' is in first person, except for a few: kouta, hotaru, hiiro, and toa. i've taken this to mean that the characters are dissociating to some degree, and with toa it's pretty explicit that it's one alter talking about another.

Let's introduce the main characters: a boy born in an unlucky place and a boy born in an even unluckier one. If you forget their names, please refer to the first page; though as for their stories, you have to figure them out on your own. Ah, you're late to the start. “Hey, I don't want to see someone pretty like this crying.” “But it's not that your appearance is the only thing that catches my attention.” “It's just the instant thought that came to my mind, to maybe comfort you a bit.” “Come on, don't look at me like this.” The older boy lets out a weak, lighthearted laugh, then stops smiling and stares to the side with a detached gaze.

… …Ah. I just noticed. In the end, it's not really my story, is it?

toa seems to not like this alter very much. i also don't think the toa talking here is the same as toa, as their manners of speaking are different, so that's why the text isn't green. i'll go into this if i make my "toa in the memories isn't the same as prisoner toa" propaganda post.

why do i think the toa in the unknown memory reports is toa?

first of all, it's only logical- they supposedly switched during the intermission, and that's when the unknown memories came out- but also because they have a similar, formal matter-of-fact way of speaking, and seem to have similar attitudes, that being direct, confident and disconnected from whatever toasys is going through. but again, this man has 6 lines of dialogue so i can't say that i'm an expert on his personality.

however, i don't think he is the alter who butts in during the t1 memory report, because

Please don't cry I'll stay with you

No matter how hard he tries to keep the focus on the one he's talking to, he's staring somewhere away, how disgraceful; no need to feel sorry for a person like this. Would you care about excuses if you were ignored?

I care It's not your fault I'll be here 

Not enough time and energy to spend on you, you're not enough— Kindness scratching on the surface leaves you with no more than scratches.

the way they talk about whoever is fronting in the memories is very different.