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daisyofwaterdeep · 2 months ago

Note

Just gonna start of saying I LOVE your drabbles - especially big fan of what you’ve written about Gortash as of recently :D could I humbly request your thoughts on how Gortash might try to win over a particularly stubborn (gn) tav/durge? Perhaps with some… questionable consent towards his methods 😌

Gortash/Reader (reader is gender neutral with a vagina) Tags: NSFW, dry humping, dubcon, manipulation, fingering TW: sexual assault, noncon, sexual violence, kidnapping, descriptions of violence and gore, object insertion

A/N: kinda went ham on this one...please be mindful of the tags!

'Conquest'

Gortash had handpicked you as his assistant. As soon as he saw you, some nobody helping with the armory in Wyrm's Rock, he gestured to his advisor and demanded to have you brought in for briefing.

At first it was based solely on your looks--having an attractive assistant around to fuck on a whim would be great for stress relief. But as he watches you, he detects a defiant shine in your eyes, a sort of "just try to mess with me" sort of attitude in the way you carry yourself that draws him in.

As he sits you down and informs you of your new post, he gets a better reading on you. You're guarded, surprisingly so, and even as he offers you a pay raise for a far less cumbersome job, you don't look at him with gratitude-- only caution.

Most wouldn't hesitate to blubber out thanks and praises at such an opportunity, but you...you seem to know that there's a catch. That nice things don't just fall into one's lap. He likes that cleverness about you.

As much as Gortash enjoys an easy lay, this is far more fun. Like sexual enrichment-- working for his reward.

It's going to be a challenge and a delight to fuck you.

~~~

Gortash lets you settle into your job before making a move. Nearly a month passes before he decides it's time to test the waters.

You approach him as he's reading over a letter at his desk.

"I'll be heading home soon. Is there anything you need before I go?"

He hums to himself, pretending to think as he sets the paper to the side and leans back in his chair. "Hmm, no, nothing comes to mind." He stops, gives a short laugh, then adds, "Well, a blowjob wouldn't be remiss."

The look you give him is adorable. Pretty lips parted, eyes wide, and an almost immediate pinkening of your cheeks. Gortash wishes he could get your expression painted so he could enjoy it at his leisure.

"I--" Your lips move soundlessly for a moment before finding your voice. "I c-could see if Sharess' Caress makes house visits."

Gortash waves his hand in the air and laughs again. "That was a tasteless joke, my apologies." He gets up from his chair, stretching his back out with a small grunt, "However, I do appreciate the lengths you would go to for my sake."

You incline your head politely, cheeks still rosy. "Of course."

"But I will say, if you ever decide to treat me to a bit of...stress relief, I'd rather it be sourced from within the fortress." He holds his hands out in a grand gesture, "I have a reputation to uphold, after all."

You shuffle on your feet, "Makes sense...I'll keep it in mind."

"Wonderful." He mirrors you with a polite head nod of his own. "Now, don't let me keep you. Go enjoy the rest of your day."

As soon as you leave, Gortash's shoulders slump and he holds onto the back of his chair. Damn. Part of him was really hoping that would work. It would have been too easy of a victory, sure, but also.... a blowjob really does sound quite nice right now.

~~~

"Are you finished with these?" you gesture at the stack of books perched on the edge of Gortash's desk.

He looks up for only a moment to cofirm before going back to his work, "Yes, you can put those away."

He move his arm out of the way as you pick up the massive stack and begin carefully navigating to the bookshelf across the room.

The quiet shuffle of you putting them away and the scratch of his quill on parchment fills the room for a time, but when you let out a soft noise, he can't help but divert his attention.

There you are, on the tips of your toes, pressed against the shelf, trying to slide a book into it's high home but failing by a whole inch.

Gortash is out of his chair and slinking up behind you before he can think better of it. And when he does have a chance to think, he's already looming behind you, close enough to smell the shampoo in your hair. He decides that this is a good idea, actually. He had dipped his toe into the waters last time and nothing came of it, so maybe it's time to really jump in. He tells himself that it's merely seizing an opportunity for his overall plan--his overly eager and half hard cock has nothing to do with it.

You squeak as he presses up against you, outstretched arm beginning to come down, but Gortash is quick to grab your hand and brings the book back up. He slides it into place easily, then lets the tips of his gauntlet graze down the length of your arm before moving his mouth near your ear.

"It looked as if you needed some help."

The near whisper of his voice ghosting along your skin gives you a shiver, one that Gortash can feel run through your entire body.

"L...Lord Gortash?"

Your voice matches the same quiet of his own--it's nervous, yes, but still private, confidential. You aren't necessarily trying to stop him from what he's doing.

And if you aren't going to stop him, then he sure as all the hells is going to continue.

He lets out a soft, satisfied breath against your cheek as he presses his hips more firmly against your ass, knowing full well that you can feel the stiffness of his cock. You let out a small gasp but otherwise stay still, so Gortash indulges further, his hands dropping to your hips and he sets into a slow, deliberate grind.

He wonders what's going through that pretty head of yours right now. Are you scared you'll lose your job if you stop him? Are you surprised that he wants you? Have you been waiting for him to make a move like this? Are you disgusted, infuriated, turned on? The thoughts crowd his mind as the deliciously inadequate friction has his cock throbbing, his lips brushing over the curve of your neck in something nearing a kiss.

If he takes it further, what will you do? Will you push your ass back into him, begging to be taken? Or will you finally find your voice and demand for him to stop?

Gortash brings his hands forward, fingers already finding the cool metal of your belt buckle, enraptured by the flutter of the tendon in your neck, cock jerking and sticky as precum oozes and smears in his pants--

A knock comes at the door.

In an instant Gortash is two paces away from you, falling easily back into his airy persona just as the door opens and a worker comes in. He shoots a look at you, still standing where he left you but pretending to straighten the books with stiff, jittering movements. He silently applauds your efforts as the worker approaches with a small bow.

"My lord, your guests have arrived."

Damnit. He had completely forgotten about his afternoon meeting. Part of him-- a very hard, throbbing part-- considers postponing, if only for 15 minutes.

But of course he can't do that.

With his blood still running hot, Gortash follows the worker out of his study and into the hall, mentally cursing the inopportune timing all the while.

~~~~

He needs to rethink his strategy.

A night of cooling off and masturbating has allowed him to think more clearly. The stunt he had pulled was fun, sure, but it's not what he wanted.

A few glasses of wine and some brainstorming through the night finally led him to what he does want-- for you to fall for him. For you to be grateful for his touch. He wants you to feel downright terrible for just how bad you want him. No, no want. Need. And he's concocted the perfect scenario for such a thing. It'll take a bit of elbow grease and careful planning, but that's where he really excels.

The first step of his plan starts as soon as you come in for your daily duties. He's usually already nose-deep in work when you arrive, but today he's standing by with a smile, waiting for you.

"Ah, perfect timing." He raises a finger and dabs it at you, putting on a charming smile. "We need to talk before you go about your duties."

You don't look particularly thrilled with the idea, but your face says that you expected as much. It's time for him to put on his show.

His smile falls with his voice, "I apologize for what happened yesterday. It was entirely inappropriate." He lets a soft edge of weariness creep into his words as he holds out his hands, "I'm tired. Overworked. And I admit that I've grown used to relying on you in stressful times such as these." He waves his hand and furrows his brow, "But that's no excuse to do such a thing to you." And now, a sorrowful expression paired with a gold-gilded hand over his heart. "If you would like to resign from your post, I'll ensure you are handsomely compensated. But if you stay, I can promise you, such a thing will never transpire again."

A rousing performance, he must say. Even if your face didn't betray your forgiveness-- which it does-- he knows he has you in the bag.

You shuffle on your feet, hands clasped in front of you, "I appreciate the apology."

Gortash sighs with a soft, relieved smile, eyes still trained on you as you work out your next sentence.

"I'd...like to stay."

"Thank you." He feels a predatory gleam threaten to sneak into his expression as he bows his head. "I truly don't know what I'd do without you."

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

And now, onto the fun part.

~~~~

"Everything went according to the plan, I presume?"

"Oh yesss," The banite grins wide, his yellowed teeth as much of an affront as his breath. "Got 'em in there for ye, all nice and ready. Put up a bit uvva fight, all squawkin' and squallin' at first, but the pretty lil' thing's calmed down some." He jerks his thumb to the metal door behind him. "Been on guard duty while the other two 'ave their fun."

Gortash is grateful for the falling night that hides the darkness that crosses his own face, though his voice stays just as cordial.

"Oh? What sort of fun?"

"Just tossin' em about, really." The banite looks around the empty dock before shuffling forward, a wicked glitter in his beady eyes, "Arnie found some nice rocks-- pebbles really," The man snickers, "We've been stuffin' em up in the pretty thing. Seein' how many can fit." He puts his hands up before adding, "Ah, but no sex stuff, like ye said. Made sure all three of us kept our britches on."

"I see."

Gotash steps forward and with one swift jab of his hand upward, slices the man's carotid artery with the tip of his gauntlet. The banite sputters and clutches at his neck, hot gushes of blood spurting from between his grimy fingers as his eyes go wide and his mouth gapes wordlessly. Gortash had planned to dispose of the men when their role was through out of necessity, but now it's out of anger.

"Perhaps you'll learn to follow directions in your next life."

Gortash grabs the man by the collar--the other side, so as not to filthy his clothes with the pig's blood, and yanks him to the edge of the dock. The man's floundering and uneven footing does the rest of the work for him. A large splash in the dark of the water, a bit more struggling, then nothing but the sound of the sea.

As pissed as he is...this could work. It could work damn well, in fact. His mind is already churning, reevaluating the situation and turning this error to his advantage.

With a new plan in mind, Gortash takes in a deep breath and opens the door.

Two lanterns illuminate the warehouse, only supressing the darkness in a single corner. And there you are, only visible as a pair of bare legs on the stone floor, two men on their knees and obscuring the rest of you.

Gortash has always taken pride in the control he has over his emotions. But in this moment, he lets that control go completely.

A swift end is made of the men with a few brutal jabs of his claws. They try to stumble to their feet and grab at their weapons, but the blood pouring from their gurgling throats is too heavy of a flow, and all too soon, they collapse to the floor, dead.

With that out of the way, he finally gets a look at you. Even if he's beyond annoyed at the hunks of waste he's just disposed of, he does have to applaud them for their work. You look stunning-- Completely bare, hands tied behind your back, legs splayed open, face tear-streaked and eyes terrified. He's grateful for the terrible lighting, because his cock stiffens immediately at the sight of you.

"What happened?" Gortash falls to his knees by your side, "Are you okay?"

"Th-they," Your voice is virtually a croak, thrown out from your crying and yelling. He watches as you swallow roughly before trying to continue, "They a-ambushed me. As s-soon as I opened the door, they--"

Your words waver as despair threatens to take you once again, so Gortash leans down, snaking an arm under your back.

"It's alright darling. I'm here now." He shakes his head, "Gods, what was I thinking, sending you here alone...?"

He helps you sit up, noting the way you jolt and whimper, your legs unable to close. He hasn't dared to venture his eyes down just yet, but it seems they did a number on you.

Another slice from his gauntlet releases the rough rope that binds your hands and you bring them forward slowly, shoulder sockets seemingly tender from being forced behind you for so long. As you rub at your chafed wrists, Gortash unfastens his cumberbund and quickly shucks off his coat, draping it across you.

"Th-thank you," you sniffle, clutching the coat to your chest.

"Of course." Gortash places a gentle hand on your back, "Let's get you out of here. Are you able to walk?"

You had been slowly regaining your composure, but your face crumples at his words, fresh tears cascading down your cheeks.

"Th-they put...inside...m--"

Your sentence ends on a soft wail as you bury your face in his jacket.

"Hush now, it's alright." Gortash slides an arm under your knees and carefully picks you up, loving how you so easily wrap your arms around his neck, even as your body stiffens in discomfort. As he adjusts your weight in his hold, you gasp and he hears the distinct soft patter of a single pebble hitting the stone between his feet.

There's a large crate nearby that he gingerly perches you on the edge of. He makes sure you've got a good hold of his jacket before grabbing one of the lanterns and setting it nearby.

"I'll fetch a doctor--"

"No," You cut him off, eyes going wide as they flit over to the dark masses of the men, "P-please, don't leave me."

"Then I won't." He gently places his hands on your shoulders, forcing you to look up at him. "I won't leave, if that's what you want. But that means I'll have to care for you here."

He can see it written all over your face. The fear, the shame, the humiliation-- but also the relief. The trust. The men that had tormented you are dead and cooling in the shadows of the warehouse, and your savior is standing in front of you, eyes earnest and full of concern. He sees the way you want to tell him not to look, but also the desire to be cared for.

Gortash drives it home with a gentle smile and his soft, confident words. "You needn't worry anymore. I'm here now."

And just like that, you're his. Your bottom lip quivers but you nod shakily, raising the coat up to your mouth and spreading your legs, your knees coming out from either side of the dark fabric.

"Good," He says, voice hushed and calm even as he kneels down in front of you, his blood thundering in his veins. "As wide as you can."

With bated breath from the both of you, Gortash grabs the end of his coat and pulls it up, gently placing the length of it in your lap.

Mud is matted in your pubic hair and smeared on your inner thighs, but even still, he can smell the distinct musk of you. And with your legs wide as they are, your labia is spread, showing the soft pink folds of your vagina, also streaked with grime. His cock engorges fully as he gently grabs your thighs and pushes them open just a bit further and sees, with a rush of twisted excitement, the smooth grey surface of a pebble bulging from your entrance.

"We need to get them out." Gortash says, surprised by just how even his voice is as he slides off the fingers of his gauntlets and places them on the floor next to him. "It may hurt, but I need you to bear with me. Alright?"

Your head is like an old rusted machine, the first nod is like a lurch, then the next two come easier with use.

"Good." Gortash places one hand on your thigh to steady you and brings the other forward. "Try to stay calm."

Even though you seem desperate to obey, as soon as a finger brushes against the softness of your inner folds, your muscles flex and the pebble at your entrance sinks in deeper.

"Relax, Gortash nearly coos the word, his thumb rubbing a comforting circle into your thigh, " Relax for me, darling."

The tension in your muscles eases with small jerky jumps in between, and Gortash waits for you to let out a long, shuddering breath before trying again.

You tighten involuntarily as his fingers brush against you again, but this time, he doesn't pull back. His finger slides in next to the pebble, the juxtaposition of your soft hole and the hard rock making his head swim and his cock ache. He hooks his finger before pulling it out and the pebble, a little bigger than a grape, pops out of you and skitters onto the floor. Your pretty little hole flutters and contracts as you gasp and another pebble is immediately clogging your entrance, this one seemingly bigger.

"You poor thing," Gortash has to push the stone back into you to get his finger to fit, and he can feel it clack and scrape against the other rocks still stuffed inside you, "I know it probably hurts, but you're doing wonderful..."

He pushes the rock subtly up as he speaks, delighted at the way you whimper and bury your face into his coat as your thighs close around him. The soft meat of your entrance clenches around his finger and he softly tuts, using his free hand to spread your legs once again.

"Relax, darling, it's alright."

"S...sorry..." Your voice is muffled through his coat, but he can still hear your strain and embarassment.

"You don't have to apologize," He assures you, curving his finger around the stone, "This one might hurt, okay? So try to not to tighten if you can."

He hears you suck in a deep breath before shuddering your muscles loose. With that, he begins pulling the rock forward. It's nearly hypnotizing, seeing your tiny hole stretch tight as the slimy surface of the stone pushes up to it, against it, resisting the pressure of his finger.

"Try pushing for me," He says, breathless, "Try to relax and push."

"Ah--" The muscles in your thighs clench and you let out a strained gasp that breaks into a hurt whimper as your hole stretches more, more--

With the widest part of the stone past, the rest slides out all at once, the plum-sized rock clattering to the floor as your hole gapes open from it's size. Two more pebbles, much smaller, fall from you and join the others at his knees.

"There we go, that's it darling, shh, shh, it's alright--" He softly comforts you as you gasp and cry out soft little noises of relief.

He rests both hands on your thighs, watching as your entrance contracts with jittery clenches, a thick gush of natural juices streaked with dirt and blood leaking from your abused hole. Gods, he's half tempted to shove his cock in you-- to share that pain of heavy stones pressing against his most tender parts.

But he can't, of course. So instead, he fishes a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes at your folds. You seem to appreciate the break, sighing and relaxing as you lower the coat from your face. Good, because he'll get to see your expression for what comes next.

"We'll need to get you cleaned properly, but this will have to do for now."

He meets your eyes as he speaks, bringing his hand up and dragging the cloth slowly and deliberately over your clit.

Your eyes flutter and your mouth falls open as your thighs close around him involuntarily. It lasts for all but a moment, though, because the coat comes back up to hide your face. What a teasing little thing you are.

"Poor dear," he glides two fingers back into your entrance, feeling the grit of the dirt as he goes in deeper and you tighten. His other hand rests in his lap, as casually as he can, to subtly rub at his erection. "It'll all be over soon, so hold on for a little longer."

And it really does seem to almost be over-- the palm of his hand meets with your mound as he goes in as far as he can, fingers slipping around the last two stones. A shame, really. But he can work with this.

"They're in deep," He frowns, raising up on his knees for a better angle. "This may be difficult, darling. Just hang in there."

You peek at him from behind the jacket and nod nervously.

Gortash has to work to keep his own face straight as he slides a third finger into you, bottoming out easily with his palm pressed firmly over your clit. He pins the two stones against the roof of your cunt and lets them move and slip from his hold. He spreads his fingers inside of your to retrieve them, exploring the wet, swallowing heat of you to his pleasure. You gasp as his palm grinds against your clit, legs pressing into his sides once again.

"Almost," He breathes out, cock jerking madly against his thigh as he pushes in deeper, "It's alright, just a little more..."

Your breathing is picking up and, soft, distressed whimpers leave you with every minstration. His hand is coated in slick, it's positivley soaked as he pulls his fingers out halfway with a stone, only to 'lose' it and have to push them back in.

He knows that he's getting less subtle in his excitement, but you seem too far gone to understand that, or perhaps you don't care. Either way, the sounds you're making are becoming sweeter, more raw, and your legs are trembling as they squeeze around him. He wants to rip the jacket away from you, to see the way your chest is heaving, to get a look at the pleasure-pained face you must be making right now...but even if he's being more indulgent than he should, that would definitely blow his cover.

"Wait," You stumble out on a shaky breath, your body jerking forward and your eyes wide, "W-wait, please--!"

Your words break off in a sharp cry as your back arches and your pussy locks around his fingers, juices gushing around his intrusion and running down his forearm. Gortash lets out a small noise of his own, hopefully hidden in the throes of your orgasm, and uses the cover of your clenched eyes to fondle his leaking cock. He finds his own release a mere second later, the hot spurts of his cum soaking into his pants.

It's torturously perfect, having to keep his face as straight as possible as he's wracked with pleasure, forced to supress his shivers and shakes, even as you slowly loosen into your own.

"Gods, I'm..." Your face disappears behind his jacket again as your voice wavers, "I'm so sorry..."

"Shh, it's alright." He says in a near whisper, hoping it negates the post-climax gruffness in his voice, "It's not your fault, dear."

He easily traps the two remaing stones and gingerly extracts them, though it still makes you jerk and gasp. He notes with flared nostrils that your cunt has gotten swollen and puffy from your orgasm--looking perfectly inviting for some soft licking and sucking, though he wouldn't dare. The slick running from you seems to be clear now, the natural processes of your body clearing your passageway. You still may end up with an infection, but this will certainly help ease things.

He folds his handkerchief and dabs at your folds politely, cleaning you up as best as he can before finally standing up, his head light and his heart still pounding just as fiercely.

"Let's see if you can walk now."

He holds out a hand to you and you take it, your other arm pinning the jacket to yourself modestly. You're unsteady on your feet, but you only have to endure for a few moments as he helps you put his coat on. As soon as you're decent enough, Gortash leans you against him, a protective arm around your shoulders.

"Come, darling. Let's get out of here."

As he leads you out of the warehouse, he has to fight a devious smile as you tiredly rest your head against his arm.

#daisy dabbles #nsft #enver gortash #enver gortash x reader #i had two ideas regarding gortash that i decided to roll into one fic lol #also again like #if you're sensitive to heavy topics please skip this oneeeeee

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obeymeshallwedateaddict · 12 days ago

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hello hello! i saw that your request are open soo here i go i guess? 👀 so - for context - something funny has been happening to me: ever since i got my first barbatos card, which makes him appear as a surprise guest, ive tried to get all the different reactions out of him. however nothing i do actually works?? i ALWAYS!! get the stars or the hearts and i just can’t get him to be upset even a little bit!! not once!! no matter what i do skdhsk SO! may i please request a cute funny drabble where mc tries to be a bit mischievous/prank barbatos a lot of times because they want to get more reactions out of him that isn’t that super polite smile on his face but it sorta? backfires because instead of pissing him off or scaring him or something like that he’s genuinely amused and totally enamored by mc and their behavior? thank you so much in advance <3

Hello!! Im sorry for the delay but I've been in a writer's block lately which is why I don't post as often but as soon as I got an idea for your request I wrote it down and I genuinely like it. Enjoy!

Summary: MC tries to prank Barbatos but instead of being mad or annoyed the demon finds it amusing and endearing.

Contains: Fluff

GN!MC x Barbatos

You can find more of my work here: Masterlist

---

A Devilish Attempt

MC peeked around the corner, eyeing the pristine kitchen with gleaming counters and perfectly arranged ingredients. They knew Barbatos would be there any second to check on the afternoon tea preparations. Today, they’d be testing out their newest prank.

The idea was simple: they had swapped his tea leaves with the spicy demon realm “dragon’s tongue” herb. It looked the same, smelled similar… but the taste? A fiery, eye-watering kick that could surprise even the most seasoned demon.

As soon as Barbatos stepped in, MC grinned and slid into place, pretending to “help” near the teapot.

“Oh, hello, MC,” Barbatos greeted, that signature polite smile already in place.

“Hey, Barbatos! Care for a cup of tea?” they asked, barely able to keep from grinning. They expected shock, maybe a flicker of irritation something that wasn’t his unruffled calm.

Barbatos poured himself a cup, and MC watched, their eyes wide as saucers, waiting for his reaction. He took a sip and…

“Oh! Quite an interesting choice, MC,” Barbatos said, barely a blink of surprise in his expression. “A little spice can truly awaken the senses. You have such a… creative taste.”

MC was baffled. “Wait, you actually liked it?”

He smiled that calm, unfazed smile, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Not what I would typically choose, but if you wanted me to try something new, I would happily indulge.”

Undeterred, MC decided they’d have to try something bigger. Over the next few days, they went all out, each plan more elaborate than the last. They swapped out all the sugar in his cakes with salt, set up a harmless spell that made glitter burst out when he opened his recipe book, even snuck in a little toy snake to “surprise” him in the storage room.

Each time, Barbatos barely batted an eye. He’d even chuckle or offer a sincere compliment, like, “How clever you are, MC,” or, “It’s refreshing to have a little unexpected sparkle.”

MC was beside themselves. “How do you keep your cool, Barbatos? I’ve tried everything!”

Barbatos’s eyes softened as he looked at them, amusement sparkling in his gaze. “You’re quite tenacious, MC. I admire that about you.”

MC blinked, feeling their cheeks heat up slightly under his warm gaze.

He leaned in just a little, his voice low. “If it helps, I’ve been thoroughly entertained. The effort you put in to try and surprise me… I find it charming.”

Caught between laughing and blushing, MC finally threw their hands up. “Fine! I give up. You win, Barbatos!”

Barbatos chuckled softly, watching them with a gentle expression. “Thank you for the fun, MC. You’ve made each day a little brighter… and a lot more interesting.”

As he walked away, MC realized they might not have succeeded in flustering him—but in the end, Barbatos had somehow turned the tables on them completely. And maybe… they didn’t mind that one bit.

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skrrts · 3 months ago

Text

strawberry cakes (oneshot)

✧ gn!reader x park seonghwa ✧ genre: non idol, slice of life, fluff, engaged ✧ word count: 1,8k ✧ warnings: food/eating

After the most adorable proposal & your graduation, Seonghwa and you are ready to start the journey to plan the wedding of your dreams: maybe you do not have the greatest budget but isn't it normal for all couples to make use of the free wedding cake-tasting?

a/n: this came to mind when i saw hwa's new Instagram post yesterday. it's kind of inspired by one of my drabbles but you can totally read it without having read that one and maybe one day i will write the wedding to go with it T_T

After graduation and moving together, starting your first job, Seonghwa and you both spent a few weeks going through budgeting. With your small savings and the little your families added (insisting it was what they should do), it was obvious that you really would get the small wedding you two dreamt of but it also meant, cutting a little on corners that you likely would have enjoyed to invest more in. Not that it was tragic, but your aunts all were amazing bakers and you had no doubts, you had to worry less about them volunteering to help with a buffet, baking a few things so you could put that money in the most important cake of all.

After going through the options, Seonghwa and you settled down with one specific bakery that really seemed lovely, based on photos and reviews from other couples online. They even were in your budget if you decided to go with one of their less decorated cakes but your fiance had the idea that you really should make the most out of the cake testing which would mean plenty of free sweets.

"You really dressed the part," you chuckled as Seonghwa was cutely posing in front of you, grinning. "Well, we two are stunning, they will easily take we are some rich picky couple. The story of us being torn between an aesthetical or minimalistic wedding will be the perfect excuse why we end up with a smaller kind of order if we go for them."

His arms curled around your figure as he placed a kiss on top of your forehead. "You really have no bad feelings for stealing cake from them, don't you?"

Your man looked just a little innocent: "I'd not say we steal. After all, we go there with the actual intention of hiring them. I would more say, we take the same right as all of those other couples, the full experience."

Oh, how could you not think he was the sweetest?

"Of course, of course. Well, if my outfit is approved of by my very wealthy husband-to-be, I'd say we are good to go?"

Seonghwa stepped back as you playfully posed for him but he gave you the kindest of smiles, the spark in his eyes ever so present. He never stopped looking at you like this, if anything, his admiration seemed to grow, sometimes making you feel just a little shy.

"You are the most beautiful person in the entire universe for me," he whispered, pulling you close and kissing you lovingly. "My star," Seonghwa cupped your chin and your cheeks were likely as red as a strawberry at this point.

"If you keep going like that, I am not sure we will make it there because I might melt into a puddle," you joked and he laughed. "Fine, let's make sure we get to eat all of the free cake first."

Seonghwa gently took your hand, squeezing it as you made it to the car.

The café wasn't too far away, barely a twenty-minute drive and a very friendly-looking lady already expected you. The place was closed on Sundays but more so to invite in couples to try their cakes.

"You two are beautiful, I already can see it, an outdoor spring wedding with your loved ones," she clapped her hands together, quite excited. "Strawberries will be in season then, such a good choice. I have prepared six different cakes I believe would fit beautifully."

She rambled on while leading you to a small table with a lovely decoration. Seonghwa pulled the chair back for you to sit down at, you gave him a soft smile before he took the one next to you.

"So you said you are aiming for a more minimalistic but elegant cake?" she opened a file with the information you had to fill out online ahead of the appointment.

"Indeed," Seonghwa used what you liked to call 'his business voice' when he was not cute but looked like the hot guy everyone wanted at their office and he was more discussing business than wedding cakes.

"As you said, we have planned a Spring wedding, my family has this lovely traditional property," he continued and you were glad the woman served some coffee because it was hard to stay all serious. Seonghwa and you worked with a budget and his uncle's small Summer house had a lovely garden close to the river. It was far from modern but it seemed perfect for your own wishes and other locations were quite expensive.

"We have been together for quite some time and we care more for traditions and values rather than to leave a great impression on the media. This is why we have chosen your cafe. The cakes are lovely with such a unique design," he concluded and the woman was more than thrilled to hear this.

"Mister Park, count on us. If you decide on one of our cakes, you will receive the one of your dreams."

With that she pulled out photos, showing you different concepts from more detailed ones that had price tags you two automatically knew were out of the question to two that seemed promising.

"I really like this one. The details are lovely but not too ... sappy. Would it be possible to maybe have a few smaller bites like cupcakes to go with it or something similar? We could place the cake in the middle surrounded by them;" you asked although you regretted how you did not bother to look up names of those things, only focused on cake.

"We are quite keen on the strawberries," Seonghwa chuckled, squeezing your hand which he had been holding the entire time.

"Oh yes, absolutely! I will give our baker a small call, maybe she can send an example. Would you like to try the different variants meanwhile?"

Your fiancé's eyes sparkle: "Oh yes, of course. Please do take your time."

He kept it together until a platr was served with four different combinations of fillings for the cake as she excused herself. Seonghwa was eager to pick up a fork and carefully picked some of the first slice, offering it to you, a hand placed underneath to ensure it wouldn't slip off.

"You look an awful lot excited, Mister Park," you teased but leaned in, accepting it. He was pleased to see you obviously enjoying the taste, covering your mouth with a hand.

"Of course I do, I have the most lovely person next to me while picking the cake for our wedding," he hummed before also trying some of it, making a face. "This reminds me of the overpriced cake I had during my trip to Paris when I learned only later how I spent my entire budget of a day on a cake."

You chuckled, taking a spook to offer the second option to him: "Ah yes, that infamous trip with Hongjoong for your graduation. I am relieved you two made it back home, based on all that happened."

Seonghwa blushed a little but he leaned in, accepting the spoon. The moment you were about to lean back, he pulled you in and sealed your lips into a kiss.

You didn't even have time to gasp when you were kissing softly, tasting the remains of the strawberry cream on Seonghwa's lips. Your heart was beating loudly when your arm curled around his neck. Sometimes, it was still hard to believe you were about to marry this man. Now the times when you were reading college books while he was lying in bed next to you, snuggled onto your side while playing Animal Crossing felt like a lifetime ago.

You couldn't wait to see how it would change over the years, all the new memories. As his spouse.

"I love you, so much", he whispered and his big eyes looked at you full of love. You bit your lip: "I love you too, Hwa."

There was no more time when the woman returned with an iPad in her hand: "How about those? Very popular in France right now and they would go lovely with any cake."

Seonghwa quickly had another bite from the slice as you looked at it: "I love them, what do you think love?"

He was quick to nod: "Ah yes, I enjoy them as well. I believe, around thirty should do." It was the moment where the two of you hoped this wouldn't be too costly: "Of course. As we are unable to provide an example here, we would ensure to send you a photo together with the calculated costs and you can make your final decision then."

At this point, Seonghwa was casually eating the testing slices while you listened. You admired how he pulled it off without the woman even realizing he likely ate the entire thing, unlike most other couples who only cared to try them out.

You had picked up one of the fresh strawberries.

"With fresh ones from the season, it will be amazing." Seonghwa finally finished and licked his lips, leaning back, his long legs crossed: "Absolutely. We are quite content we would love to work with you. Would you be able to provide everything by the time of October?"

You sipped on your coffee, ignoring how Hwa had eaten three of the slices.

"Absolutely! Do you have a favorite for the filling?"

You two glanced at each other, somehow you forgot the most important part: Choosing one. Yet, it proved once more just how perfectly you matched: "The Second."

The woman seemed confused, blinking at the almost empty plate in front of her but she did not comment on it. A few more details were discussed before the two of you left half an hour later without paying a single thing.

"Your family's traditional property huh?" you laughed as held each other's hands, swinging your arms a little.

Seonghwa grinned: "Well, you always liked our short breaks there and my uncle now seems adamant to put effort into it after I told him we would love to use the large gardens for the wedding."

You were excited about it, no matter how modern the building would be. All you could think about was to make this man yours, officially and all for once. You never thought of yourself as somebody caring a whole lot about weddings but now, you looked forward to it.

Seonghwa stopped, embracing you as your foreheads leaned against each other.

"This is where I ask the question you will glare at me for," he begins.

"Oh?"

Seonghwa's little pout warned you that his question was about to be silly.

"So we did not talk about the wedding toppers..." Of course, oh you should have thought of it. You couldn't hold back the laugh: "Are you really asking me if we can put those little animal crossing figures on top of our cake?"

Your boyfriend grinned: "Well, they played a crucial part in our engagement."

"How could I forget about that?" you hummed. The two figures received a special place in your new living room. Ah, he was still so silly and you loved him for it.

"Well, guess we are going to save some money there but you will have to explain this excited lady how exactly they fit into our traditional family wedding."

The one you couldn't wait for.

#seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #seonghwa oneshot #ateez x reader #ateez oneshot #ateez au #ateez writing #park seonghwa x reader #sh tag #reis writes #fluff tag #seonghwa fluff #ateez fluff

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eoieopda · 1 year ago

Text

meet me at the bar (ksj)

You're supposed to be staring down the barrel of the last — and most important — examination of your life, but you only have eyes for your study buddy.

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x AFAB!Reader Type: One Shot | Fluff w/ Smut | 18+ — Minors DNI Word Count: 7.5k AU: Law school, study-buddies, best friends to lovers, highly educated idiots in love CW: Bad jokes, Latin, fingering (v), unprotected sex (p in v), Seokjinnie hits it from the back. A/N: My inaugural Seokjin smut is dedicated to my donsaeng-in-law (see what I did there?) @yoongiphoria, who is now embarking on this stupid, stupid gatekeeping journey IRL. Best of luck, my lil love. I'll be waiting for you on the other side of the war! MJ FIGHTING ~ Big ups to my other lil love, M, for beta reading 💕 I posted an epilogue drabble on 7/26/23. Also: This is written based on my experience in the American legal (educational) system. I was, frankly, too lazy to study up on South Korean law for a fanfic, lol. ⚠️ 18+ only ⚠️ minors will be blocked, on sight. my content is not for you. i do not want to interact with you. please respect my boundaries.

You are not spiraling.

You are a paragon of health and wellness, you tell yourself as you gulp down a mug of coffee that is still far too hot, like you’ll die without it.

More bitter than the taste on your tongue is the realization that you might die with it — your third cup in fewer hours. As far as you can tell, though, it’s a win-win situation: You’ll either generate enough anxious energy to finalize your property law flashcards, or you’ll drop dead before you have to review them.

And you won’t have to take that exam…

And you won’t have to pay off your student debt…

Besides, you figure, the stomach ulcer you’re likely inflicting on yourself will be infinitely less painful than dragging your under-caffeinated corpse through yet another day of studying. Another eight, consecutive hours spent forcing forgotten subjects back into your maxed-out brain.

It’s worth it, you repeat to yourself, though this gauntlet has turned out to be a full-time job that steals, rather than pays. You can faint on top of the finish line, so long as some part of you crosses it.

You should be used to it by now, running a marathon at a dead sprint. That’s all you’ve ever done — push yourself. You attended your first day of preschool and never stopped, never took a breath. Through elementary, middle, and high school; then for four years of university. Going, going, going.

Stumbling through that eighteenth lap around the track, you kept going because — well, being a student was all you’d ever been. That’s your toxic trait, you’ve since discovered. Your concept of self is rooted exclusively within the context of a classroom.

You didn’t know it at the time, but your decision to take the Law School Admission Test — or the HellSAT, as you’ve come to call it — might have been the start of a quarter-life crisis. But you didn’t stop there. No, you took that score and ran with it. Slapped it onto every application as a desperate plea for acceptance.

When you received your admission letter, you were a bright-eyed twenty-two-year-old with a bachelor’s degree and a vaguely defined dream.

Call it naïveté or call it gravitas, there wasn’t a doubt in your smooth little brain that law school was the logical next step to take. That being intelligent and hard-working made you well-equipped for the challenge that came with pursuing a Juris Doctor. After all, you’d spent nineteen years delaying gratification — what difference would three more make?

Within the first hour of your orientation, you — a professional student — had already learned something new: You were a masochist and, frankly, somewhat of an idiot.

Thankfully, you weren’t alone.

Sitting — dissociating, more like — at a nearby table was a lanky boy you’d first noticed on your tour of the law building. His glassy-eyed stare was aimed somewhere in the middle-distance, and even though his slightly agape mouth said nothing, it communicated everything. He was the only other person in that atrium who looked the way you felt: scared shitless and riddled with buyer’s remorse. A can crushed under the boot of self-doubt.

It was the first time you and your wobbly knees went running in his direction, but it wouldn’t be the last.

He was so deep in a daze at that moment that he didn’t notice the way you threw yourself into the open chair next to him, didn’t look up at the scrape of wooden legs against the granite floor beneath them. He nearly jumped out of his skin when you announced your presence with words, however.

It was less of an introduction — the way people in a society tend to greet each other for the first time, ever — and more of a twister. Words whipped through the air at a dangerously high velocity, no syllable ending before you started on the next. Just one breath, a few consonants, and a pair of dark eyebrows shooting up to cower behind his bangs.

“Was — was that Korean?” He asked when you finally ran out of wind.

Judging by the way his wide eyes softened, you knew he wasn’t making fun of you. You’d simply scrambled his brain so thoroughly that you’d transcended the known limits of language.

More of a question than an answer, you peeped, “I think so. Maybe?” You wavered with a sigh. “I’m no longer confident that I know any of the things I thought I knew, though. So, um, don’t quote me on that.”

“You’re giving me too much credit. I didn’t catch enough of whatever that was —” He gestured vaguely. “— To even attempt to quote you.”

Within seconds and without knowing, he’d disarmed the bomb ticking away in your gut. He must’ve sensed it, too, because his face lit up so completely that you had to look away. One glance at the floor-to-ceiling windows confirmed that the sun hadn’t reappeared at that time of night.

That rush of warmth you felt then — that absolutely insane brightness — was powered exclusively by the grin taking up the entirety of his face. If that megawatt smile alone hadn’t rerouted your oncoming anxiety attack, the distinct, squeaking laugh that erupted out of his chest would’ve done the job.

You doubled over, either under the weight of your own giggling or with the relief you felt in finding someone equally lost. Eyes swimming with mirth, you wiped wetness from your cheekbone and snorted. “Was that a windshield wiper?”

“No, that was embarrassing.”

The tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks went some dizzy shade of pink.

He rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck with one hand and held the other out to shake yours.

“And I’m Kim Seokjin.”

Now, when the door of your apartment flies open without warning, it’s that same savior standing on your threshold. That designation may be melodramatic, but if that brown paper bag contains what you suspect it does, it’s deserved.

Seokjin, patron saint of breakfast sandwiches, flops down on the couch that stretches along the opposite side of your coffee table. From where you sit on the floor — hunched over your notes like a hobgoblin — you reach out your expectant arms and make grabby hands in the space between you.

You see mischief flash in his eyes, but only for a second. In the next, he’s pretending like he doesn’t see you; doesn’t hear your petulant little whines. He extends long legs out over the cushions, clutches the bag to his chest, and lets his head roll back to rest on the couch’s arm.

“Wanna know what I did today instead of practice essays?” He asks, eyes unfocused on the ceiling above.

All you actually want is whatever that smell is. You can’t stop staring at the bag of food in his hands. If you try hard enough, maybe you can summon some sort of psychic energy, make it levitate towards you.

He doesn’t wait for your response. “The math.”

“Huh?”

You frown; and as you do, you reluctantly shift your gaze from Seokjin’s hands to his face. He isn’t looking your way, but you can tell he’s grimacing based solely on the way his jaw twitches. It’s a miracle he hasn’t ground his teeth to dust over the past three years, given how often he makes that face.

In an attempt to ease the tension in his posture, you tease, “Didn’t we go to law school because we can’t do math?”

He cracks an unwilling smile. A tiny one, but a smile nonetheless. Without turning his head, he extends his arm out in your direction. In the split second it takes for yours to spring forward like a snake, that blessed bag dangles; the scent of sausage, egg, and cheese wafts through the air and restores your will to live. Clutching your prize, halfway to feral, you tear into it without hesitation.

As you bite off more than you can chew, Seokjin prepares his rant with a sigh, “So, consider this.”

“Mmphf,” you advise through a mouthful of greasy bliss.

“Bar exam prep takes eight weeks, right? If we’re only counting business days, that’s forty — forty days, for a minimum of eight hours each.”

He becomes more restless, the more he talks. Heated, he sits bolt upright and turns wild-eyed to you.

Oh, he’s gone full-tilt insane.

“Three-hundred-and-twenty hours, then. And if you think about that in terms of our clerk wages —” He slaps his hands down on his thighs for emphasis. “— at 2,625 won per hour —”

Then, he points to you, as if the increasing volume of his voice wasn’t already holding you hostage.

“— we’ve sacrificed nearly two million won in income, just by studying for this fucking test.”

You swallow down the last bite of your sandwich, which you downright hoovered while Seokjin took the path of most resistance. After clearing your throat, your interjection overlaps with his next point:

“Seokjinnie, why didn’t you just double our monthly —”

“That’s after we paid ninety million in tuition, hundreds of thousands on study materials and registration fees —”

You cut him off. “Is this your way of asking me to Venmo you for breakfast?”

He freezes, caught fully off-guard. Shocked eyes widen like you’re the ridiculous one. “Of course not!”

He waves you off like his thoughtful gesture is no big deal. Then, like he’s tired himself out, he sinks back onto your couch. From his back, he grumbles with crossed arms, “‘M just sayin’ that I’m tired of this shit.”

You can’t help but giggle at the pathetic pout working down the corners of his mouth. “Felt,” you agree, though it feels a little bit like a lie.

Truth be told, you feel more awake now than you did ten minutes ago, and you can’t attribute it to the coffee — not when the evidence so clearly indicates otherwise.

Over the course of three years, you’ve built up quite the case against yourself. You’ve made the following findings of fact:

Whenever he pops up, Seokjin brings your mood up with him. Even now, as he marinates in anguish on your couch, his presence gives you a reason not to beat yourself unconscious with the four-kilogram prep book that sits beside you on the rug. Makes you hate your circumstances a little less, if only because you share them with him.

And, for a rapidly deflating balloon, you have to concede that Seokjin looks stunning this morning.

Unlike you and your day-three hair, he somehow had the energy to wash his. The mid-sections of some strands are still damp; the parts that aren’t frame his face in fluffy waves. His shampoo is something fruity mixed with something crisp — grapefruit and mint, maybe? — and it floods your senses, causing question marks to replace any coherent thoughts you might otherwise have. You’d be lying again if you said you didn’t want to find out for sure how soft those tresses really are.

The verdict?

Well, the jury’s still out, but you know you’re guilty.

If being down this bad for your best friend isn’t a criminal offense, it should be.

You shake your head to clear it. To smother the flame licking up the inside of your belly, you grab the certified mood killer off the coffee table and hold it up in front of you. Surely, the cure for a sexual tension headache is an eight-centimeter stack of color-coded, neon index cards covered in information you shouldn’t need to memorize in the first place.

“Exam’s in one week,” you say with a shiver.

Seokjin rolls onto his side to look forlornly at you. You are not looking at his bare hip bone, which appears where the hem of his shirt shifts from the waistband of his joggers. Nope.

You continue the search for the point you’re trying to make. “I can barely spell mortgage, let alone explain what the fuck to do with one.”

“Don’t think I know what land even is at this point,” he sighs. Dejected, he lets his arm go limp. It spills off the edge of the cushion and dangles until his knuckles brush against the rug. “What is this property you speak of?”

Biting back a grin is impossible, so you press your lips together instead. Just like that — just by Seokjin being Seokjin — the hellscape you willingly walked into gets a little brighter. Maybe, you think, you can do this.

You look down for a moment to shuffle up the cards you spent the better part of two days preparing. As you stare down at the staggering amount of knowledge you might be tested on, you can feel the crease returning between your eyebrows. Your grimace is back, too, like a reflex.

If you make it through this experience without premature wrinkles, you’ll be shocked.

There’s shifting on the couch ahead, but you don’t look up until Seokjin breezes, “From this angle, it almost looks like you’re smiling.”

His arm is no longer dangling off the edge of the couch. His entire upper body is. Knees now hinged over the backrest for balance, he’s upside-down and smirking impishly at you.

He has to know you’re in love with him, right? How could he expect you not to be?

You clear your throat and arch a single eyebrow as a challenge. “What is the rule against perpetuities, Seokjinnie?”

Like you, he can recite it in full at a machine-gun rate of fire. It’s been beaten so far into your heads that you might utter it on your deathbeds, with your last gasping breaths.

“No interest in land is good unless it must vest, if at all, not later than twenty-one years after some life in being at the creation of the interest,” he responds with a smug smile. “Easy.”

It’s your turn to smirk.

“Great. Now, what does any of that mean?”

Without missing a beat, he fires back, “Does anyone know?”

“Absolutely not. Next question!”

Having had the same day, every day, for seven weeks straight, Seokjin is struggling. He’s spent hundreds of hours on the same routine, feeling beaten down and burnt out, all the while. It goes like this:

Every morning, he wakes up and goes for a run in a feeble attempt to feel something other than dread. After that, he eats a lackluster breakfast, and then he promptly chains himself to his desk. When he finally gives himself permission to get up again, it’s dark out; and he’s too brain dead to check the hundred or so notifications that amassed on his phone during his fugue state.

Scratch that. There’s one person he responds to, no matter what. As far as everyone else is concerned, though, he’s a ghost.

Today is the first day out of the last fifty-five where Seokjin doesn’t feel like his brain is being hydraulically pressed. For the first time in too long, he fell into an old routine; one he’s missed. It started with a shower — and honestly, that was overdue — then, he swung by the café he’s frequented over the past three years. There, he made his usual order.

One iced americano, and one sausage-egg-and-cheese croissant with extra hot sauce.

Before he walked back up the block, he downed the former, but he didn’t touch the latter. The latter wasn’t for him, anyways. None of the breakfast sandwiches he ever stops for are.

The subsequent hours looked semi-similar to the three-hundred-and-twenty he’s already devoted to studying. Well, sort of. To be clear, the subject matter still sucks, and he’s still angry that he has to touch it at all, but he isn’t waiting for the sweet release of death in the same way he has been all summer.

This might have something to do with the fact that, for the first time in nearly sixty days, he’s not on his own.

More than that, he’s with you.

Having switched away from covenants, easements, and servitudes, he feels a slightly less stupid. Contract law is a little more straightforward and a little less caked in colonialism. Unfortunately, after six hours of burning all his brain cells on shit like liens, Seokjin has begun his descent into madness.

The worms are digging in, he can’t focus, and neither of you can stop — fucking — laughing.

“I’ll give you a hint,” you giggle, shifting in your spot on the neighboring cushion. You give his knee a pat that feels a tiny bit patronizing, but that makes his pulse race, nonetheless. “It’s a Latin term.”

He snorts so loudly that you do a double-take, just to make sure it wasn’t a sneeze. You both stare at one another for a beat, then comes the eruption.

“It’s all Latin!” He roars.

To muffle the way he’s wheezing, Seokjin slaps his hands over his face. It’s already tear-stained from his abject failure to keep his shit together. At least he can attempt to hide how red he knows it is.

Your laugh comes straight from your belly. You double over completely when his comes out in squeaks, hand reaching out to squeeze his forearm. It used to bother him, the sound he made when he truly loses it, but it doesn’t any more.

How could it, when it makes you cling to him like that?

Wiping at your cheeks, you take a deep breath, then sigh, “Does it help if I give you the translation?”

He doubts it because you just pinched your bottom lip between your teeth, and now, his mind is blank.

Really, it’s a fucking miracle he graduated at all with you around. You and that face you make when you concentrate have always made it impossible for him to do so. It’s why he wasn’t paying attention in class when this shit was taught in the first place, he realizes now.

To cool himself down, Seokjin grabs the Camelbak bottle off the coffee table, realizes too late it’s yours and not his — oh, well — and shoves the straw into his mouth. He nods once, firmly, and sucks in as much water as he can.

It all sprays back out of his mouth when you say:

“Naked promise.”

He had always wondered what his life would look like if it ever flashed before his eyes. Now, he knows. It’s not a montage of his finest moments, the most recent of which would not have made the cut. All he sees is you, wide-eyed, glancing between him and the wet spot that’s now soaking through your sweatshirt.

You press your lips together, probably to keep from laughing in his face. It’s a valiant effort on your part and a kind gesture, but honestly, he doesn’t deserve it. His fingers twitch as he clutches the bottle, wanting nothing more than to dump the remaining water on his face. He embarrasses himself more often than not, but this stings his cheeks like a sunburn.

“I am —” he raises his hands, flustered, “So sorry. I don’t remember waking up in a sitcom this morning, but I, uhhh, clearly did.”

When you stand up, you’re grinning. And not in that scary way you do when you’re about to retaliate for some prank he’s pulled. No, that look on your face is genuine amusement.

Thank god.

You shrug as you cross your arms over your torso and grip the hem of your sweatshirt with both hands. “All good, Seokjinnie,” you laugh. “This needed to be washed, anyway. You see that coffee stain?”

No.

No, he does not see that coffee stain because the tank top underneath your sweatshirt is clinging to the wet spot as you tug the top layer up your stomach. He feels bad for staring — really, he does — but fuck, your skin looks soft. Like, so soft that he has to grip his water bottle to keep a grip on himself.

Eventually, your tank top separates from your sweatshirt. It falls back down to where it belongs, to Seokjin’s dismay, and the sweatshirt keeps going.

“Nudum pactum,” you remind him as you pull the drenched hoodie over your head. Playfully, you toss it at him. It smacks against his chest, splays out over his lap.

Once more with feeling: thank god.

You sink back down beside him on the couch, and he can’t help but notice that you’re the tiniest bit closer than you were before. It’s innocent, just your bare knee bumping his shin as you re-cross your legs. Still, it leaves his tingling through the fabric of his joggers when you don’t move away.

The silence surges as it settles, crinkling like static in his ears. He almost doesn’t hear you when you ask him again: “What’s it mean?”

Uhhhh.

“It means —”

Unfortunately for him, the water he just forcibly ejected from his mouth didn’t help him. His throat is dry now, and he sounds strangled, he’s sure. The way you’re watching him so intently doesn’t help one fucking bit, either.

Are you doing that on purpose?

You nudge him physically this time, knuckles connecting gently and playfully with his leg. He wonders if you can hear his heart hammering against the wall of his chest in all of this quiet. You might, he figures, especially when you tuck your hair behind your ear.

Instinctively, his eyes flick down to the length of your neck. Without a curtain of hair in the way, it’s even more exposed skin that he doesn’t know what the fuck to do with. Making matters worse for him, you tilt your head to the side expectantly. His breath catches when he tears his gaze away, back up, and sees the way you’re looking at him now.

You are absolutely — without a goddamn doubt — doing this on purpose.

If that’s the game you want to play, Seokjin can play it, too. He turns away from you to set the bottle back down on the coaster he took it from. As he does, he finally answers your question — the nonchalance he’s faking even sounds convincing.

“It’s an unenforceable promise,” he replies casually. “One with insufficient consideration.”

He rights himself in his seat, stretches a bit further backwards until he’s resting comfortably against the arm of the couch. You hide it well, but there’s a hint of a pout on your lips when you clock the newfound distance.

Check, he smirks to himself, your move.

A flash of pink slips out. Your tongue wetting those lips before you prompt him more quietly than before, “And consideration is…?”

He slips up, makes the mistake of noticing the rise and fall of your chest as you take measured breaths. So, he sees, you’re buzzing with anticipation, too. He wonders if it’s him that’s having that effect on you, or the circumstances.

For all he knows, it could be pent up steam that you need to release. Stress weighing down your body that you want to get off.

Fuck, he wants to get you off.

He swallows thickly. “Can’t get something for nothing. There has to be an exchange, otherwise it’s meaningless.”

You say nothing, so he keeps talking.

“Quid pro quo, essentially,” Seokjin adds. He chuckles slightly when he realizes. “See? Told you. It’s all fucking Latin.”

The corner of your mouth twitches at his joke, but you don’t make a sound. The hand that previously pushed against his leg inches closer, just barely. It’s such a small shift that you don’t seem to realize that you’re moving it.

Maybe you feel that pull, too; the one he’s been fighting since you barged into his life without warning.

Maybe the consideration has been there from the start; a promise for a promise. I’ll jump if you do. Because it’s always been that way, hasn’t it? Since orientation.

Pulling all-nighters in the library, developing matching caffeine dependencies, getting sick too often from the strain of it all.

You and him.

Laughing quietly in the back of lectures, cold sweats through cold calls, bitching about unpaid internships while you spend indisposable income at the bar down the block without acknowledging the irony.

There are only two real differences between this night and that first one, he notes.

Now, Seokjin isn’t questioning every decision he’s ever made that led him to this point. He’s not scared shitless, not really. Not when you’re around.

You cut through the silence with a sigh that’s barely more than an exhale, so breathy that your voice dissipates as soon as it hits the air.

“Seokjin.”

He could probably hear a pin if you dropped one — can hear everything you don’t say. It’s all packed tight inside that utterance of his name like gunpowder, locked and loaded.

So, who shoots first?

You shift again. Now, when you speak, it’s deliberate and in a language he can parse.

“Tell me you want me, too.”

Bang!

His body answers for him, pushes off from where he leans until he can get his knees underneath him. He’s waited three years to kiss you, but he can delay gratification for the brief time it takes to overtake you. Pinned with his palms bearing weight on either side of your head, you wind up caged in and breathless beneath him. His right knee occupies the space between your spread thighs.

Again, it’s a miracle he’s made it this far with you around.

He hums, beyond pleased with the position he finds himself in. “Maybe. Tell me if I got the answer right.”

“Oh my god.” You toss your head back to the extent that you can, which admittedly isn’t far. Your frustration rolls off you in waves, heat palpable. “I’ll kill you, I swear.”

“Sounds admissible to me,” he teases further. He flexes an eyebrow. “Isn’t that an exception to the prohibition of hearsay evidence? Speaks to motive, I think.”

Seokjin has no idea why he’s riling himself up like this. If he could shut up — just this once — he could be kissing you by now. You seem to be aware of that fact, too, because you grip his shirt so desperately, one right move might tear it.

You huff out a laugh despite the circumstances, “This friendship is over, by the way, in case that’s not clear.”

That tiny smile on your face spreads to his. Not over, he knows, just modified. Amplified, finally. Knowing that, he continues to push his luck.

“Can I make one more joke?”

“So over!” You emphasize with a wail.

He takes a second to center himself before hitting you with award-winning drama, sincerity dipped in the kind of humor he never misses out on with you:

“You have adversely possessed my heart.”

Your jaw drops at how stupid that line was, but you reign it in just in time for his lips to crash into yours.

It almost knocks the wind out of him, the way the pieces fall with force into place. They slot together easily, just like you do. With fingers clinging, the weight of his body molding overtop of yours.

You kiss him until he forgets what life tasted like without your tongue licking into him, your little moans melting in his mouth — until you break apart, gasping for air. Panting, you ask, “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting on you?”

He doesn’t, no, not at all. Thankfully, you take his stunned silence for what it’s worth. After relinquishing your grip on his shirt, you bring your hands up to cup his face gently in your palms.

With you touching him like this, he has no option but to stare down at you. Bit redundant, he thinks, since his focus has always been locked right here, right on you, by choice. Given that, it’s a little funny that he managed to miss every signal you’ve apparently sent him. But really, it doesn’t necessarily surprise him to hear that he’s even dumber than he thought.

You kiss him slowly this time, briefly, before nipping affectionately at his bottom lip. It drives him exactly as crazy as you want it to; makes his cock twitch inside his joggers, makes his brain foggy with a potent combination of fondness and filth.

Do you have any idea how many times he’s thought about this? He’s genuinely wondering because even he doesn’t know. He’s lost count of all the times he’s watched you nibble on your own lip and wished it was his instead. A million or more, if he has to guess.

Seeming to sense the way you've scrambled his brain, you nudge the tip of his nose with yours and giggle.

Seokjin can’t help but grin. “What’s so funny?”

“Thought of a good one,” you answer. Your smirk does his head in. The contrasting, goofy wiggle of your eyebrows squeezes his heart. “Better than yours, I think.”

He kisses you quick and hums, “Oh?”

You nod.

The suspense is killing him. So is the way your clothed cunt grinds ever so slightly against his thigh.

Fuck.

He wants you, he wants you, he wants you.

“You gonna make me come, Seokjin, or do I have to wait for you to file a subpoena?”

You may have to seek a refund for the prep course you paid for.

For as long as you can remember, you’ve learned best through application. You could read the same chapter, over and over, and not absorb a word. The same was true with lectures, even more so when they’re pre-recorded rambles by the weirdest adjunct professors known to man. Sure, you may eventually memorize concepts this way, but they don’t sink in deeply enough to stay. You can’t use them in any way that helps you.

To no one’s surprise, no part of your civil procedure lecture sticks until it falls into your lap.

Strike that.

Until Seokjin loses his balance in trying to take his pants off, and falls onto your floor with a yelp.

A moment or two passes while you stare at each other in shock, but that dissolves quickly. And so do both of you, right into another fit of laughter that makes your shoulders shake. Then, you jump to your feet and hold your hands out to him.

Seokjin accepts them, though he doesn’t rely on them at all when he stands back up. He seems more than content just to hold onto you, whether or not he needs you to keep him steady. You have no complaints, for once in your life.

Shaking his head, he chuckles, “Venue change?”

“I think —” You hum and kiss the column of his throat. He swallows hard enough that you feel his Adam’s apple bob against your lips. So sensitive. “This is what they call forum non conveniens.”

He’s having none of that, and you don’t necessarily blame him. As it turns out, the shoe isn’t terribly comfortable when it’s on the other foot.

You’re lifted without warning, bent over his shoulder, and hauled off in the direction of your bedroom before you can even squeak in protest. You drop like a bag of dirt — albeit a beloved bag of dirt — onto your mattress once he reaches it; his lips are on yours to swallow the gasp before it can leave your mouth.

As eager as his mouth are his hands, roaming down the curve of your waist and over your hips. With fistfuls of the pajama shorts you hadn’t bothered to change out of, his head dips down under your jaw. The warmth of his breath is quickly replaced by that of his tongue, flicking a short, languid line along your neck.

“Want you so fucking bad,” he breathes. A shiver shoots straight down your spine and you keen, head crashing gracelessly back against the pillows. “Just like this.”

And he means it — you can feel how true it is with him settled between your spread legs. He presses his hips forward to meet your clothed cunt, cock teasing you through four goddamn layers’ worth of fabric.

His lips flutter against your earlobe just seconds before his teeth graze your flesh. He continues, voice vibrating through his chest to yours, “All the time.”

You outright whimper when he grinds against you a second time. Halfway to crazy, you knot your fingers in his hair and wrap your legs around his back in a silent plea for friction. So hungry for him that it aches.

“Seokjin, need — oh, god.”

You lose your train of thought the second his hand slides into the gap between your bodies. Long fingers slip below the waistband of your shorts and panties, too. He doesn’t stop there. Not with fingertips whispering over the mound of your cunt, not until he finds you wet and wanting.

So wet that you can hear it when the pad of his index finger runs along your slit.

His mouth curves against your neck, prompting you to shift your head on the pillow. You tilt your neck just enough to meet his eyes.

To your surprise, he’s not smirking. Not even close. If anything, he looks awestruck. Like he’s finally realizing what he does to you, how your body reacts to him. From the looks of it, that discovery is flipping his whole damn world upside down.

For once, Seokjin doesn’t crack a joke and neither do you. It’s quiet, save for your tiny gasping breaths and the ripple of his fingertip swirling over your clit. Even the moan building in your chest gets the memo. It disappears somewhere in your throat when — fucking finally — that middle finger penetrates you.

And god, he sounds so wrecked when he finally speaks.

“Tried to imagine it a thousand times, you know,” he murmurs.

You clench around his finger as it curls upwards, shiver when he starts to stroke the sensitive spot along your front wall. His thumb picks up where his middle finger left off, pressing against your clit in a way that makes you mewl.

Seokjin only stops talking to kiss you deep and leave you dizzy. It’s too brief. If asked, you’d never be able to quantify what amount of time is enough, but you know that wasn’t, so you pout.

Ignoring your little whines, he continues with a hum, “How perfect you’d feel, if I ever got this lucky.”

Oh, Jesus Christ.

You laugh as you say it, but you’re dead serious: “If you keep talking to me like that, you’ll never be able to get rid of me.”

Marry me, why don’t you? Beautiful bastard.

“Threat or promise?”

He adds a second finger; and suddenly, you’re not laughing anymore. No, the strangled sound you make while you grind against his palm isn’t funny at all, but you can’t care about that now. Your focus is stuck on remembering how to breathe. In, out. On the stars blinking behind your eyelids when they give up and flutter shut.

He works you open for him like he’s already attuned, like it’s the fiftieth time he’s finger-fucked you and not the very first. And, quite frankly, it’s embarrassing how little time it takes for him to pull you apart at the seams.

No one has ever made you cum with such little effort. You’re scared to learn what it’s like when he tries.

You catch the triumphant gleam in his eye in the split second before you bury your face in the crook of his neck. He’s earned it, you suppose, so you’ll let him relish the personal record he’s managed to set on his first time out. You might even let him brag about it, so long as he continues to make you tremble like this.

“Shit,” he chuckles low near your ear.

If he sounds muffled, it’s because you’re still waiting for your system to reboot. He knows this, knows how fucking sensitive you are, and slides his fingers out of you as slowly as possible. Still, those aftershocks throttle you; the unintentional stimulation makes you jolt.

“Yes,” you nod helplessly, squeezing your eyes and jaw shut simultaneously. “Shit is right. Perfect analysis, no notes.”

A chaste kiss is placed on your temple. It’s petal soft and subak sweet, but it functions like a defibrillator. Within a split second, he’s revived you. Eyes now open again, you exhume your face from where you buried it and blink up at him. Warm brown eyes light up when you reappear.

He’s so fucking beautiful that you almost want to avert your eyes. Key word: almost. You’ll drink in the sight of him until you drown, you think.

Seokjin looks concerned. With a shy smile, he checks in: “You okay? We can stop right now if you’re not.”

You don’t know who they are, but you know that they don’t make them like him anymore. Which is a fucking bummer for the rest of the world — just not for you. This one is all yours.

“You quitting on me, Kim?” You let your knee fall inwards to nudge his side, and you pretend not to notice how boneless you still feel. “Didn’t wait all this time to tap out early, did you?”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning, nonetheless. His warm palm massages the outside of your thigh affectionately, if only for a moment. Then, he pats his fingertips against the same spot. “Shorts off, champ.”

You follow his instructions and move to shimmy out of them, but not before snorting, “Champ?”

“Fine. Old sport?” He offers with a shit-eating grin. Your shirt smacks him in the face once you peel it off and chuck it at him. He pouts. “Hey!”

“Thanks, I hate it.”

He tugs his shirt over his head, launches it over his shoulder without looking. Your unabashed stare immediately clocks the slight hint of his abdominal muscles. Lean, but not sharply contoured in a way that looks painful to touch. Soft. Perfect, even.

What lab were you engineered in?

“For someone with so many opinions, you don’t offer many suggestions.” He shoots you a pointed look while he unties the knot at his waistband drawstring. “What’s your proposal?”

You’d love to bite back at him. Really, you would, but he pulls his boxers down alongside his joggers, and every meaningful thought you’ve ever had goes flying out the fucking window. All that’s left is I want you, I want you, I want you.

Automatically, you reach out with a tentative hand, craving nothing more than to feel his velvet length in your hand. To your surprise, he stops you. He catches your hand in his, lifts it to his lips, and brushes a kiss over your knuckles.

“Rain check, baby,” Seokjin smiles against your skin. There it is. That’s the one. “Need to fuck you, posthaste, or I’ll simply pass away.”

You open your mouth to comment; he breezes right past you. He points to the mattress, then to the wall to your left. “On your side, love.”

That works, too.

“Face away from me.”

Never in your life have you moved so fast, all but throwing yourself down where he told you to. As you land with a slight bounce, you mouth to yourself, Posthaste? Nerd.

A second slips by, then Seokjin slips into the space behind you. His lips tickle the back of your neck when he kisses the base of it, causing you to gasp yet again. Maybe that’s just how you breathe when he’s around — like you don’t know how.

His hand drifts down the length of your side, passing over the doughy flesh of your ass. He gives it a squeeze for good measure — because of course he does — but he doesn’t linger, not now.

That hand continues until you feel his fingertips scratch affectionately at the back of your right thigh. He doesn’t need to ask; you lift your leg, allowing your knee to hinge overtop of his hand. Now that his hands are occupied, you offer yours to assist.

This time, he doesn’t stop you when you wrap your fingers around his length. And fuck, there’s so much of it. Part of you wants to ask where the hell he thinks he’s going to fit all of it, but you’re not a quitter, so you keep your mouth shut.

Seokjin shivers under your touch, breath catching in his throat so blatantly that you can hear it right behind your ear.

“Hmmm,” you tease, squeezing the crown gently as you circle your wrist. “Does that work for you, champ?”

His forehead drops against your shoulder. The groan you force out of him is twice as long as necessary, followed by an unwilling laugh. “You’re right, okay? You’re fucking right. It’s awful. Just so fucking bad.”

Your thumb swipes over his leaking tip, smearing the bead of pre-cum waiting for you there. You’re relentless. “Sure you don’t like old sport better? Huh, buddy?”

“Baby,” he warns. There isn’t much heat to it, but it burns white hot in your core anyway.

The stretch of his cock does, too, when you finally stop fucking with him and start letting him fuck you. The breath he holds as he enters you slowly is let out in a shuddered groan when he bottoms out. Perfectly full and fully incapable of teasing him further, you simply melt back against his chest.

He’s careful to start, testing the waters and refusing to push you too far, too fast. You want more, though, you always have. Greedy, you rock your hips back against him to force him deeper into your weeping hole. He takes the hint, fingertips pressing bruises into the underside of your knee as he picks up his pace — and you’re far too blissed to care.

He pistons into you eagerly, deliberate. His hips clap against the flesh of your ass, but the sting of it all can’t compete with the way he splits you open. Makes you reach back to cling to any part of him you can get your hands on, claim whatever you find for keeps. Buried to the hilt, and somehow, he’s still not close enough.

You’re close, if your fluttering walls have anything to say about it. You’re babbling, too, so lost in pleasure that you can only repeat — over and over — how fucking perfect he is. How perfect for you he is.

Seokjin peppers kisses down the curve of your shoulder as he thrusts. It’s the only real indication you have that he’s at a loss for words, too; that he’s compensating for the quiet. He kisses you with an open mouth, teeth grazing the space he finds, leaves a mess on your sweat-slicked skin.

“Fuck,” he grunts. You mewl. “Can’t stop thinking about —”

“Just like that, please.”

“— how many times I could’ve —”

You wail, “Shit, Seokjin, don’t stop. I’m so close.”

The staccato strokes will be the death of you, you’re sure of it. Thankfully, he doesn’t stop. Not when he kisses the back of your neck again, and not when he murmurs directly in your ear, “— had you like this, if I’d said something years ago.”

Please, please, please.

It’s all you can say, again and again, as if he isn’t already giving you everything you want before you even ask for it. Responding to every movement you make, fucking into you with precision so that each vein of his cock brings friction where you crave it. Fucking you through your orgasm when it catches you in a riptide and sends you reeling.

“That’s it, baby.” His voice is soothing despite the recklessness of his thrusts. “So good for me. So fucking good.”

You’re still gushing when he snaps his hips forward and stills, cock twitching as he lets himself go inside of you. Still trembling when his head droops forward to nuzzle against your shoulder blade, and when you feel his breathing begin to slow in tandem with yours.

Once he pulls himself out of you, a few moments pass in fucked-out silence. It’s comfortable, if you ignore the mess between your thighs — and you do, for now. Your brain is too busy to waste time on that.

You’re exhausted and bordering on delirious when you say it, but that doesn’t make it any less true:

“I might love you, probably.”

He doesn’t respond immediately. He doesn’t move either, which makes you wonder if he’s fallen asleep with his face smushed into your bare back. But you feel the tiniest exhale through his nose; the kind of laugh you get from him when he’s too tired to be any louder.

His reply is muffled, lips still pressed against your skin, but you hear it perfectly.

For the record, he probably loves you, too.

Epilogue, posted 7/26/23.

final a/n: i have a follow-up drabble planned for these two! stay tuned 🥰

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tokiwarcube · 4 months ago

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May i suggest an nsfw charles x afab!reader fic where the reader is shy and sweet in general but a loud/vocal desperate sub during sex? Maybe w some elements of humiliation n roughness??🤞🤞 honestly take this anywhere i luv ur writing sm i have faith u would do this justice 🫡 ☆♡☆♡☆♡☆

WAAAAA, thank you so much!! Faith of this caliber is truly the highest compliment 🦇🖤🦇

Partially inspired by this post, talks of silk rope shibari/bondage. Might expand this into something more someday? I could have gone harder with the humiliation and subsequent drop into desperation, me thinks, especially if there are. others. who fall into the same camp as me in that regard🖤🖤🖤

Either way, 1k drabble below the cut! Enjoy!

Too much, and not enough — it’s a contradiction of course, but in the moment you don’t have time to think about the inconsistency of your wanting. Not when the soft rope tugs so pleasantly at your skin, keeping you anchored both to the moment and to your position of complete and utter submission. You feel like a doll, the way you’re put on display — on your knees with your arms behind your back, expertly tied knots accentuating every curve of your body — and it doesn’t help that the man behind you refuses, refuses to indulge you further.

He taps a rhythm against your throat as you lean back onto him — your only support in this precarious position — as his clothed cock presses gently at your dripping cunt. You want so desperately to rock back into him, to gain some sort of stimulation, but you can’t — not when you’re bound like this.

His free hand roams slowly across the expanse of your body, taking its time in the re-exploration of all that is you, but notably missing all of the places you want it most. Blunt nails on ribcages, on thighs, grasping at your chest — it’s a patient kind of torture, made purely to drive you mad.

You can’t be sure how long you’ve been pleading for — it feels like its hours, dizzy as you are off of lust — but you know well enough by now that he doesn’t need that much time to reduce you to this. Hell, the simple act of tying you was enough to leave you fuzzy in the head. Strong hands pulling you this way and that as he knotted the silk rope imparted a heat in your core, sparking where his hands first touched before washing over your body in waves — the tying could have lasted hours with his patience… or perhaps only minutes, with his efficiency. It doesn’t truly matter to you, now — all that matters is Charles, and how badly you want his hands on you.

“Charles,” you beg, breathless with equal parts want and exertion, “please, please touch me?”

“I am touching you.” He taps his fingers against your throat once more, collected as ever.

“Fucking, God—”

His fingers flex around your throat in warning — no true pressure applied, but the message comes through clear enough: Behave. You bite back another swear at the motion, breath shaky beneath his palm. A pause as he tests your submission, your recall of his unspoken commands, before rubbing his thumb over your pulse fondly. It’s then that he takes his hand from your throat, instead grasping your jaw in his hands to force you to meet his eyes.

“Look at me,” he says, “and tell me what you want. Clearly, now.”

You swallow, willing your voice to stay steady in spite of your growing fervor.

“Please, fuck me?”

His lips upturn subtly, and finally, finally, the hand pressing against your hip eases you further unto his clothed cock. Your face flushes as he presses more insistently at you, spreading your wetness as the pressure becomes more pleasurable, closer to what you need.

“Good, good,” he says, as casually as he might speak during a damnable business deal, “Is this what it takes, to get you to use your words?” A well-timed buck of his hips has your mouth parting in a keen, and he presses on. “Wouldn’t be a bad idea to keep you tied up, now would it?”

The mental image has you shuddering — bound beneath your clothes, paraded around in secret. And with all things, he catches your interest as it blooms.

“Pretty little thing. Is that want you want, hm?”

Words mix in your head, syllables crashing into eachother in velvet waves of lust — it’s nearly impossible to pull together any form of a sentence, and so distracting is your sudden incompetence that you hardly notice when he peels his boxers down. What you do notice, however, is when the head of his cock comes to press at your entrance. The “yes” that falls from your mouth is desperate, pitching higher as he runs himself through your dripping folds, and warps into an unintelligible cry as he slides into you.

Everything is so electric, every micromovement sparking a new wave of euphoria, and each sensation is only doubled when you’re given a glimpse of your lover. He’s a vision, with his normally well-kept hair now mussed, stray strands plastered slick to his face without his glasses to impede them. And those pretty green eyes you’ve come to love are dark, devouring each little reaction you give — entirely on display, and unable to shy away.

Tied up as you are, the pace is left entirely to Charles — and somewhere in the back of your mind that still has some semblance of coherent thought you surmise that all of the teasing must have affected him too, with how he bounces your body against his cock. Mocking words fall from his lips, rumbling against your back and going straight to your core, and you can’t help the needy agreement that comes from you in turn. You’re like a toy in his strong hold, hips meeting again and again with a fervor and desperation so unlike his usual demeanor.

It’s not long before your walls are clamping down on him, trembling in his arms with a garbled cry and some semblance of “thank you.” And you’re content to let him take further from your body as you ride out your orgasm, especially when his voice drops, swearing hoarsely into the skin of your throat. His grip tightens, fingers flexing against your hips before he bucks into you with a particularly deep thrust, pulling you flush against him as he cums with a cry of his own.

Too much and not enough. Shy but vocal. Collected but desperate. It’s contradiction after contradiction, but as you pant against one another in the afterglow, you can’t find it in you to care.

#metalocalypse x reader #charles foster offdensen x reader #dethklok x reader #metalocalypse charles x reader #dethklok charles x reader #metalocalypse cfo x reader

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mcyt-drabble-exchange · 7 months ago

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MCYT Drabble Exchange: Overview and Rules

Do you like writing? Do you like Minecraft youtubers? Do you, perhaps, like writing about Minecraft youtubers? Well, we do too! Only problem is, we often stay up late wagging our fists at a half-finished document, cursing the fact that writing is hard, life is busy and there's just not enough time in the day to sit down and make a good fic. Well, if you’re looking for a quick little block people centered writing challenge, then boy, do we have just the mini-event for you!

Welcome everyone to the 2024 (first ever!) MCYT Drabble Exchange!

TIMELINE: May 6th - sign ups open May 17th - sign ups close May 24th - all assignments sent May 25-26th - posting period May 26th 11:59pm BST - posting period ends [What time is it for me?] May 27th-June 2nd - treating week

SIGN UPS: [closed]

TREATING SHEET: [here]

RULES: 1. As per Tumblr and AO3 TOS, you must be over 13 to participate. 2. You agree to create a work of exactly 100 words by the given deadline, or contact a mod on Tumblr for your giftee to be reassigned. 3. You agree to abide by your giftee’s DNW. 4. Your work must focus on at least one requested character, but can include non requested characters. 5. All works must be MCYT-centric. 6. This is a 13+ exchange, there is no NSFW allowed. This applies to sexual content as well as extreme (e-rated) gore. 7. Make your gift in good faith - something that you think your giftee would like. 8. All violent/dark/triggering topics must be tagged appropriately. 9. No AI generated content.

POSTING: You can post your work to Tumblr or AO3, we don’t mind either! We do however require you make a Tumblr post tagging both this blog and your giftee. We have an AO3 Collection! Works posted to the collection might take a while to show up, so please don’t panic if you don't see yours! They need to be manually accepted.

So, what is a drabble? A drabble is a written work made up of exactly 100 words. Typically viewed as a challenge, drabbles are often meant to test a writer’s skill in brevity, seeing how efficiently they can communicate emotions or ideas through such tight restrictions. For this event, we are using this unique format to bring the joy of MCYT into the world! Think, how would a lighthearted interaction between Tubbo and Tommy play out? How many insults could Grian hurl at Jimmy? How much emotion can you squeeze out of QSMP Jaiden if you’ve only got her in your little writer hands for 100 words? For this event, we encourage you to be creative, try some new things, and most importantly, have fun! (To get a feel of what you’re working with, keep in mind that the previous paragraph has a word count of 120, twenty words over your limit!)

Are violent/triggering topics allowed? As MCYT content can often include violence, character death, murder games, and other such themes, we do allow them. However those are opt-in - if your giftee hasn’t asked for it, then don’t write it. If you do end up writing about these topics, make sure to tag appropriately!

What if I can’t finish on time? Contact us on this blog as soon as possible! A pinch hit will be sent out, and your giftee will be reassigned. If you do endup requesting a pinch hit, you will still get your own gift!

How will the matches be made? After the sign ups are done, the event mods will match everyone to ensure everyone gets to write what they signed up for! Once matches are made, you will receive your assignment via Tumblr DMs.

Can I make more than one gift? Of course! As long as it complies with your giftee’s requests you’re welcome to write as many drabbles as your heart desires!

I have a different question? Send us an ask or a DM!

#mcyt #mcytblr #mcyt event #mcyt exchange #info post #mcytblrsource

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physalian · 5 months ago

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So you’ve got an idea for a story….

Once again and as always, writing is highly subjective and any writing advice that says you *must* do X or all books *must* include Y or doing Z during your writing process is *wrong* kind of misses the point of the freedom of storytelling and I’m not a fan. This is how I approach writing and one way you could consider doing the same if you’ve got all these ideas and nowhere to put them, not the way you must approach writing.

Cool? Cool.

—

We’ll start with how I write fanfic because that’s a far less intimidating market. I don’t write drabble fics and coffee shop AUs. I grew up writing fix-it fics and in-universe canon divergences. Essentially: Stop the real story right here, now what if this happened instead?

Personally, I just don’t get fulfillment from writing fanfic fluff (though I do love reading it). Even if I’m committing time and effort into something that will never make me money and that people might not even read for fun due to dead fandoms or whatever, I’m still going to use it as writing exercise and give it some substance.

That’s just me, though. I used to write stuff like character studies and deep dives, and the last fic I wrote to date was a “hey what if this villain went to the good side way sooner and it wasn’t just played as a joke on his cowardice?” and its sequel.

So I started that first fic with an idea: What if K joined the good guys earlier? How would that impact the story?

Immediately after that, I was thinking about the ending and what tentpole ideas in the canon I wanted to keep, but the meat of the story I knew I wanted to focus on K’s emotional and existential struggle of switching sides, risking becoming an enemy to both factions, after the inciting incident of his (absolutely canonical) partner’s murder, that, in canon, did not get the justice he deserved. When I wrote my post about beginnings and endings, I said that endings for me are way easier than beginnings—this is why. Before I even start writing, my ending is decided.

Basically: Yes, I’m writing a story using someone else’s fictional characters, as one does when writing fanfic. The story uses cartoon characters, but it’s about one person’s struggle with their identity in the wake of tragedy, and how they take life by the horns to make it out of the story the hero they deserve to be recognized as.

And with that core idea in mind, then I write the story around it. The story, which, outside the canon that I had to keep, I had no plan for. The settings and minutiae of the set pieces weren’t as important as what each scene did for the themes and K’s emotional reaction to them happening. I needed to give him enough alone time with the characters of the hero team to learn something from them, enough time on his own to test his new loyalties, and enough time with his old team so he can juxtapose the two and make sure he’s doing the right thing by deserting.

The last thing on my mind was what tropes I wanted to fulfill. Romantic subplots and the like just kind of happened organically and weren’t planned.

—

For Eternal Night of the Northern Sky the idea I had was this: Most vampire stories are about the drama surrounding vampires that depend on humans to survive. So what if I wrote a story where humans depended on vampires to survive, in the exact same way?

Yes, the story is about vampires and everyone can say what they will about people who write vampire fiction. But it’s really about what it means to be a monster when survival demands some brutal decisions. What does it mean to be a monster if everyone is a monster?

ENNS wasn’t planned, I just started writing and had the first draft done in 31 days and through the entire editing process, the plot didn’t change from draft 1 to draft final, save for a few scenes where I had to fix the surface level problem some characters were facing, but not the reason why they were facing it.

The plot never needed massive rewrites because every scene reflected back on the core themes of the story, and every single scene was necessary to tell it. So even when I had to change the intensity of an argument or flesh out a conversation or change the tone of something here or there, the purpose of whatever was underneath remained.

With that throughline in mind, the rest of the book fell into place around it. My core characters each have a role to answer that thematic question, and side characters around then were created to fill in the world, provide friends, relatives, romances, and the like, each with their own perspectives still on that one big question. My villains, too, all exist to answer that question. Outside of the romances, every single scene is doing at least one thing either for the plot, the protagonist, or the deuteragonist to answer that question. ENNS’ secondary themes were also written into as many scenes as I could (of which I won’t spoil here).

When you write with a theme like this in mind, it gives you these sort of bowling bumper rails to help keep you from straying off into superfluous storylines that bog down the pacing and start to feel messy.

Yes, you’re writing fanfic. But what is it really about? Now maybe it is just a coffee shop AU or 50k words of smut—you do you. Not everything has to be deep and meaningful beyond being entertaining. Themes just provide direction.

For example, I like the idea of slowburn fanfics. The idea. I will happily sit down for a fic that’s half a million words long if the characters and the slowburn are compelling enough. There might not be themes, but the story never forgets its throughline—these two characters eventually coming together.

In practice, though, I see way too many “slowburn” fics out there that are just 90% fluff. The chapters stagnate, trading development for taunting the audience with the will they/won’t they. The plot toddles off to to play around in irrelevant scenes with irrelevant characters. Things that probably wouldn’t bother me if I wasn’t already expecting the romance that was promised, the romance I have to keep waiting for when I could just go read something else that delivers it faster and clearer.

—

Even if your writing process begins with a few scattered sticky notes and a notion of what you kind of want it to be about, you don’t have to hammer out pages of prose to be productive.

If you get stuck halfway through, having your throughline helps you sit back and ask yourself this very important question: What does Character want, how do they get it, and what’s in their way?

#writing advice #writing resources #writing a book #writing tips #writing tools #starting a book #writing #writeblr #character development #writing themes #ENNS

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tavyliasin · 11 months ago

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Dom!Halsin Drabble - Poking The Bear

I needed a little break and warmup exercise, so I took the request for Dom!Halsin and decided to add to the little piece I did a while ago. So I'm putting them both together in this post, though they're also in the Drabbles work on AO3 as well~ So that's why there's a little split in the middle, which might not be entirely seamless as the first piece wasn't necessarily going to continue. Smut below the cut, with some Enemies-to-Fucking vibes, Dominant Halsin and f!Tav finding just how far she can push the druid...

------------------- Poking the Bear

“Oakfather give me patience, for you are sorely testing mine.” Halsin glared at Tav as she casually bit in to an apple. “What? If they’re not going to look out for their goods, then they’re free for the taking. Isn’t that what nature’s bounty is all about? Shouldn’t fruit be free to all those who are hungry?” She grinned at him, a little of the juice running down her chin. “That is not what it means at all. You can take what you need from the forest, but this is not the forest, and you didn’t even need that.” He turned down a side alley, dragging Tav by the arm with a low growl. “Well? What’s your plan now, oh great Archdruid?” Tav grinned, seeing the opportunity as she stepped in even closer, feeling the heat from his body. “Perhaps it’s time someone taught you some manners.” His eyes flashed gold, plucking the apple from her hands and taking the last bite worth having before tossing the core off to one side. A small movement in the shadows suggested nature would not let it go to waste. “That was mine!” “Was it? Did you not just suggest fruit should be free to all who are hungry?” His voice grew lower, rising to the bait of her challenge. “I didn’t me-” She stopped talking the moment her hands were pinned against the wall, an entirely new hunger rising within her as she squirmed in his grip. “Why do you insist on pushing me so far? I have eyes, Tav. I see the way you look at me. I hear the way your heart is beginning to race, the way your breath is quickening the closer I get to you, I can feel the heat rising in your body…” He leaned down, so close Tav could smell the hint of apple still fresh on his lips. “Then why not try taking what you want?” “Because unlike some people, I do not take what is not mine. Not without permission.” Despite his words, he moved closer, pressing his body against hers. “Consider it granted, druid. If you think you can teach me how to be so boringly well behaved, you’re welcome to try.” He answered only with a growl, taking her lips in a ferocious kiss, the heat of frustration brought to a boil spilling over in a wave of burning lust. It didn’t matter that it was the middle of the day, or an alleyway in the side street of the city. There was no force in all the realms that could compare to the passion unleashed between the two.

--(there was a break between writing that part and the rest)---

“Be careful what you wish for.” Halsin rumbled dangerously against her lips. “Now get on the floor.”

“You’ll have to be a little more specific, if you want me to follow orders I need to know exactly what you expect.” She grinned wickedly. “Clearly I can’t be trusted to interpret the wisdom of the great archdruid’s lectures about nature’s bounty.”

His hands gripped her shoulders, fingers pressing into her shoulders harshly. “Then you are to get down on to the floor, knees in the dirt, and still that liar’s tongue of yours until I give you permission to use it.” The corners of his mouth twitched upwards in a slight and wicked smile, his voice dropping to a barely audible whisper.. “Oakfather preserve you, thief.”

This time Tav began to obey more readily, the pressure on her shoulders a none-too-subtle hint that too much rebellion would not end in her favour. And yet… “The Oakfather has no business here-”

Her voice was cut off by his hand gripping her chin, thumb pressing into her mouth and holding her tongue down as he leaned forward, eyes flashing with magic for just a moment. “No wonder you are so ill-mannered, you are a terrible student. It’s a wonder you even learned to speak at all.”

Tav’s eyes glanced down, watching his fingers make short work of the fastenings on his trousers, pulling aside his underclothes. Her eyes widened at what she saw, questioning her wisdom in pushing her luck so far…and yet…

“Eyes on mine. I did not tell you that you could look away.” His voice remained a low and threatening growl, coloured by the heat of lust even as he tried to hold it back. “When I remove my hand, you are going to take me into your mouth and put that wicked little tongue to far better use. Do you understand?”

She nodded silently, almost tempted to use the moment his hand left to talk back just once more, but he gave her no such opportunity. The druid’s hands gripped the back of her head and pulled her close, pressing against her lips and not allowing her to draw back, but also not forcing himself between them either.

It was almost strange that he would still be considerate. She had pushed him, purposefully, to this point, hoping he would finally let loose. Tav decided her next tactic was clear - break his resolve with a different skill. She took him into her mouth, savouring the slight gasp above her as she began to tease him, taking her time before she would fully devour him.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 tav #halsin x tav #halsin #dom halsin #rival romance?#enemies to...oral

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the-mandawhor1an · 6 months ago

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6 months later...

TLDR: it's Zaddy's and my RP 'anniversary'; artworks; Wolke being emotional about her Tumblr experience; and a fluffy one shot/drabble at the end of the WAY TOO LONG POST

I've alluded to it before, I've commissioned some artwork of the two lovebirbs and they just so happened to get finished this week. Huge thanks to @kenobiwanx for making the two come alive 😭 I can NOT stop staring at them.

LOOK AT THEM 😭😭😭

Yes these are spoilers for upcoming events but I just 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

@zaddymandalorian Überraschung!

Back to the actual point *wipes tears off her face*

Let's set the scene...

My dearest Zaddy and I reconnected in November of 2023 as I had been on a work trip at that time and I needed someone to talk to. We'd been talking on and off for the last months, mostly smalltalk and sometimes me complaining about stuff. Worth mentioning is also that I sent her my Maia fanfic back in June. First person to read it besides myself. I've known Zaddy since spring of 2016 ish (which also means I've known her longer than my husband – fun fact) so I felt comfortable with her reading my extremely self-indulgent shit. Everyone needs friends like that ♥

We mused about the roleplays we lost to forum admins being ruthless in their inactive-thread-deletion efforts every 4 months. We had barely started a Witcher RP and I'm sure it would've been awesome if we had continued. We literally stopped 7 ish posts in so nothing had happened really. – Why was it inactive? Well I took a 14 month roleplay hiatus due to me being chronically fatigued. The joys of working a stressful job and being severly anemic. Oops.

I tested the waters and made an offhand comment about maybe giving in and asking her to plot something with me.

This is a very convincing re-enactment of what happened: (translated because we're German potaters)

Well... and that's when the fun began

I, being a total Pedro fangirlie, asked if we wanted to just take the synopsis of my fic and run with that. She agreed, I was happy, she was happy.

So it's been 6 months.

OH. MY. GOD.

I did not think I had it in me to be consistently posting daily for 6 months. We've laughed, we've cried, we've lost sleep over it. We've grinned into our phone screens like maniacs at work and luckily no one asked

And now, 260k words later, I'm still in love with the babies. In fact I'd say I love the little blorbs even more now. Maia has a face, she has outfits (multiple!) she has a family and a story (that's only about 1/3 written so whew we might make it to a million)

Of course I also love Zaddy very much (and I will keep lovebombing your ass, bitch 🖤💜)

You know what, fuck it, I'm mentioning more people. Buckle up! Wolke spreads some love!

@immarocketman for being the first person on Tumblr that I kind of clicked with because we share a love for Pedro and the color purple 💜

@roughdaysandart for 1) allowing me insight in her creative process making a Fanfic comic and b) doodling Maia basically as soon as she made an appearance in text form 💜

The moots: @thefrogdalorian @djarins-cyare @djarins-wife @pedroswife69 for interacting with me, commenting on my posts and being real cute in general 💜

Everyone that ever interacted with me on here has been nothing but friendly, I feel extremely welcome over here. Everyone who liked/reblogged or commented on my posts, thank you so much. 💕💕💕💕💕💕

Now that the sappy whining is over, who wants to read something actually interesting?

In spirit of me being overbearingly loving, I've typed up a bit of fluff from the lovesick fools™ of Clan Mudhorn. Unbeta'd.

It was early in the morning, the sun barely over the horizon and engulfing the room in warm orange light, when Din awoke, a soft and warm body nestled into his side. She let out the softest little hum when he buried his face in her hair, wrapping his arms around her to hold her close.

"Sleep," he purred into her hair, placing a kiss on her forehead when her face turned towards him. Again, with a quiet hum, she buried her face in the crook of his neck. "How am I supposed to sleep when my husband has his hands all over me?"

"I'm sorry," he apologized and gently stroked her hair. "Why are you awake anyway?" she asked, finally raising her head so her sleepy, green eyes looked into his. "Hey mesh'la," he greeted her with a smile, placing a gentle kiss on her lips. "I don't know. I guess the sun woke me up, it's too bright in here." He sighed. "I miss the hut on Nevarro, it was always dark in there." "Come on, it's not that bad here. We needed more space anyway."

She pulled away from him, rolling over so she was on her stomach, hugging the pillow underneath her to get a better look at her everything. "Is the sun too strong, my warrior king?" a grin crept onto her lips as her eyes blinked slowly. Clearly this was way too early for her liking. To be fair, last night went on for longer than anticipated. "Are the little troublemakers awake yet?" She raised her head and turned to face the door. For now it seemed peaceful and quiet in the adjacent rooms.

Knowing well she would rise from the bed to check if he didn't stop her, Din hoisted himself over her body, practically pressing her into the mattress with his body weight. "You're not getting up to check on the kids now, cyar'ika," he muttered, peppering kisses along her shoulder. A chuckle escaped her lips as she rotated her head so she could see him in her peripheral.

She was so glad the mattress was soft enough to just give in under the weight, forming a perfectly human-shaped dent to make way for her body. "Whatever you say, great Mand'alor." For just a second she could feel him grind his pelvis into her butt.

He kept on pressing kisses on her neck, her shoulders, slowly crawling down her spine, kissing every little scar he found on his descent. "You really have to stop saying it like that." "Like what?" "With the bedroom-voice." He stopped to crawl back up to her head and leaned forward, giving her the chance to look into his face. His eyes were darkened, one of his eyebrows twitching upward.

"You're insatiable," she laughed, shaking her head. He slowly lifted off of her, immediately wrapped both arms around her and pulled her onto his chest. "That's your fault, my love." His voice was warm and silky, the vibration in his chest making her shudder. "My fault?" "You're just too beautiful so I can't keep my eyes or my hands off of you for long." "Di'kut" "Gar di'kut, forever." "Forever is a long time," she said softly and ran her fingers through his hair.

"And I'll be happy to spend every minute with you. I love you so much" he took her hand in his and softly kissed her knuckles. She sighed and watched him kiss every finger, eyeing her intently. She was mesmerized by his eyes, almost hypnotized by the dark brown, with the orange light surrounding them it reminded her of embers, glowing and warm.

Forever was a long time and although it didn't feel like it, time was progressing, evident by the threads of silver that sparkled in his dark brown curls. And although she felt like she herself was showing signs of ageing, he always told her she was as beautiful as the day he met her. "I love you more, mesh'la," she replied and rested her hand on his cheek.

"You and the kids are everything to me. I would die for you," he mused, closing his eyes as her finger brushed over his beard toward his lips. Her movements halted and the dark brown eyes reopened, scanning her features for signs of her sudden stop. The small crease on her forehead was enough for him to know exactly what was troubling her.

"Look at me," he pleaded with her, cupping her cheek in one of his hands now. "I know that look on your face. I would doesn't mean I will. Stop thinking about it. I'm here and so are you." Her hand slowly retreated to rest atop of his, thumb brushing over his warm and tanned skin. "Thanks to you, I am. You've saved my life once, I hope you don't have to do it a second time." She smiled warmly and nestled her face further into his hand.

Din grumbled and pulled her face closer, peppering it with kisses wherever he could reach. "I've saved your life twice. But it doesn't matter, you've given me more than I could ever imagine. I have a family now. And the most amazing wife in the galaxy." "I love you." "Until the end of space and time."

Both flinched when they heard a noise outside the bedroom. Instantly both heads were turned to the door, listening for more noises. One of the kids must've woken up, maybe their voices were too loud.

"Any guesses?" Din asked his wife, once again burying his face in her hair. "My gut tells me it's your mini-version," she suapected, turning her head to kiss him gently. "Your gut? Or your Jedi magic?"

Din rose from the bed, stretching his muscles in the morning sun, stared at by his better half. "And you say I'm insatiable." A sly grin appeared on his lips as he put on a shirt, his shoulders and bicep stretching the fabric just enough to make her hum. "The faster you check on the troublemakers the sooner you can come back to bed. Hurry, I'm not done with you."

She didn't have to tell him twice.

Translations:

mesh'la - beautiful

cyar'ika - darling

di'kut - idiot

gar di'kut - your idiot

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 6 months ago

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Brainrot Housekeeping: New Request Setup/Askbox announcement!

I've gotten some really helpful feedback, so first things first:

The askbox will be open to all request types (mini hcs, full hcs, and drabbles) Thursday the 16th (tomorrow), from midnight to midnight by UTC time!

Please remember to reread request guidelines before sending anything in (updated with the drabble option in mind)! Can't wait to see your ideas!

Details on drabbles and new test-setup under the cut :D

I'm going to test out a combo of several really helpful suggestions, mainly, putting more limits on how many asks are coming into my inbox so it's easier for me to avoid burnout, and adding flexibility to how I write:

To manage ask quantity better, I'm going to open my inbox for longer, pre-announced periods (24 hours) and otherwise keep it closed to writing prompts. This way, I can focus on writing the asks I already have as my energy levels can manage them, instead of trying to constantly keep up with incoming prompts. This also lets people plan what they want to request ahead of time, and is more accessible across time zones!

To manage ask quality better, I'm adding a new type of post: drabbles. Unlike headcanons, these can focus on any Arcana characters/groups of characters, and will look/read more like a train-of-thought, short oneshot rather than a super structured, bulleted list (for examples, feel free to look at my brainbroth posts!). Drabbles will work really well for a scenario or dynamic that you want to put any specific character/set of characters in, including non-M6. To avoid any favoritism on my page, I will try to keep representation fairly even. (Though if you want something with all the M6, might as well go for the headcanons lol)

Finally, how you specify your request is up to you! If you want your idea as a full-HC, mini-HC, or drabble specifically, please say so! Otherwise, you're welcome to leave your prompt up to my interpretation and whatever format I end up going for :)

Cheers friends!

brainrot

#the arcana #the arcana game #ask arcana brainrot #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana drabble

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httpknjoon · 2 years ago

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proof, they say | ksj

plot | Every proof that random people took just to prove your relationship.

words | 2.2k+

genres | humor/crack, fluff, actors!au

pairing | actor!jin x famous!reader

note | usernames used in the fic are all fictional. this "thread" is briefly mentioned in lie detector test. I was second-guessing if I should post this for a while. now, I am posting it before the finale! I have more proofs but I chose not to put it here anymore! if you want to read more proofs, send me an ask and I'll gladly reply with it. enjoy reading!

main masterlist | drabble series

Sometime in 2021, Twitter user @/bluemoon04 posted a thread of tweets, which later became one of the most essential posts in the YN-JIN fandom. It was published just weeks later after Jin’s Lie Detector Test video from Vanity Fair and it gets an update every time someone gets more proof of The A-Listers’ real relationship.

As of December 2022, the thread has almost eighty-nine thousand likes and thirty thousand and four hundred plus retweets and requotes. The proofs posted can be hit or miss. But user bluemoon04 shares it anyway and lets the others share their thoughts about it. Others can also submit their own proofs to the account through direct message.

Proof no. 1: [THAT TUMBLR POST IN JANUARY 2019]

behind the scenes...

A twenty-second video was posted on Tumblr sometime in the last quarter of 2019 by a newly-made account. The post only had three tags: #YN, #JIN, and #YNJIN. The algorithm worked and published the video in everyone’s feed. It received a thousand notes by the twenty-four-hour mark. It also reached other social media sites. Mostly, Twitter.

Fans— even the local audience is in awe after watching the video. What’s in it? You might wonder.

It’s just you and Jin sitting on a bench under a light post on a dark night in a lakeside park. It was seemingly taken during the production of Maybe Yes, Maybe No. It was a crowded place with the crew and staff members walking around to do their job while the actors wait on the side. Amidst the busy background, you and Jin can be seen enjoying ice cream on cones as you chat, inaudibly.

It looked like you two were busy in your own world while the crew members carry stuff around the set. Jin said something that made you laugh hard.

“God! That was terrible!” you told him before laughing at whatever Jin said.

“You loved it!” he replied.

Those were the only audible dialogue from the clip. You two continued talking as you eat the cold treat. And based on everyone who saw the video, Jin can melt– not just the ice cream– but also you with how he stared at you intently while you tell your story. You then paused when you felt the weight of his stare, your eyebrows raised. He chuckled, shaking his head, before wiping the ice cream on the corner of your lips with his thumb. The video ended when a crew member walked up to you two.

Proof no. 2: [JIN SIGHTINGS IN LESS LIKELY PLACES pt. 1]

@/multifan0303: OH MY GOD OH MY GOD MY MOM JUST SENT ME THIS

The tweet was originally posted in January 2020. The first picture was Jin’s signature on a piece of paper. For the second and last one, there’s a picture of the original poster’s mom with the actor. It’s not new for Jin to take pictures with fans he is out in public. But what made the whole fandom crazy about it is it was taken in a pet store and he was holding a basket full of cat food and supplies.

replying to @/multifan0303

- @/multifan0303: my mom doesn’t know who he is. but she saw her other customer that time asking for a picture with him so she asked for a picture and autograph too HDJSKLJFKDSLGKLJFDS

– @/greenpr4da: look at that basket

— @/v3rsaceyn: and you’re telling me jin hates cats????

—- @/franchiecat: he doesn’t even have a cat 😭

Proof no. 3 [LIVING TOGETHER ALLEGATIONS PT. 1]

During the first lockdown during the pandemic in 2020, everyone began suspecting about you and Jin living together in a house in Connecticut. With a lot of free time, the media managed to find a real estate posted online located in the said state that apparently looked like the house you were rumored to be living together in.

con mi hija 🌸

You captioned it in one of your Instagram posts in 2020. It was a selfie of you with Francheskat in your backyard. The picture was focused on your pet and only half of your face can be seen. A wall from your house can also be seen, showing that your home does have a stone exterior. Since you are more active on social media than Jin, your eagle-eyed fans also spotted in a different picture that you also have the identical Victorian lamp that the actor had behind him during a virtual interview.

“Just tell us are you and Y/N living together?!” Donny asked jokingly during an online fundraiser event with you, Jin, and other friends.

Jin shakes his head, laughing, “We’re not.”

“We do!” you huffed dramatically. “No one told me this man doesn’t know how to wash his laundry!”

Other participants laughed at your exaggerated and sarcastic tone. That was the first time you two acknowledged the gossip publicly and it was definitely not the last. You acknowledged it again when you greeted him on his birthday.

Proof no. 4: [BUB]

Both supporters and the press caught on Jin slipping his endearment for you during events with you back in 2021. Fans made video compilations and listed down the times your co-actor called you ‘bub’ on numerous occasions. Sometimes it was hushed, sometimes it felt like it just slipped from his lips. Jin finally addressed it when W Magazine brought up the topic during a magazine cover with you.

“Yeah, why do you call me that?” you turned your head to him, still in your look for the editorial shoot you two did.

Jin’s lips broke into a smile as he looked at you. He rested his chin on his palm when he answered, “It’s nothing really… It just slips out, bub”

As far as everyone witnessed from his whole career in Hollywood, you were the only co-worker Jin sometimes calls by a nickname. He never explained where it came from and was only questioned about it once.

Proof no.5: [THE TALE OF FRANCHESKAT]

“Yeah, that’s my lovely daughter, Francheskat.” you shared when Stephen Colbert brought up the picture of your pet.

“I heard she’s from an animal shelter in London. Is that right?” the host asked and you nodded from your seat.

“Yes! I visited a few shelters there during the production of my new film there and I was in awe when I first met her!”

“Oh, so you adopted her right away from that moment?”

“I didn’t…” you shook your head. “I was too busy and I was only in London for less than two weeks. My schedule was jampacked, and I never got to drop by the shelter again.”

“But I have a friend who saw how much I want to have this beautiful cat and surprised me like a month later after I got back in LA. It was so unexpected, I cried.” you laughed.

That interview was in 2017, months before the release of your first movie with Jin. Francheskat was the main reason why you made an Instagram account again after deactivating your old account back in 2016. Based on your fans’ calculations, you recently just finished filming Cornelia Street when you began posting about your cat. And Jin was seen in London around the same time you shot your own scenes there.

These facts strengthen your fans’ belief that Jin was the friend you were talking about. Especially with how close your co-star is to your cat, even though he claims he isn’t a big fan of felines.

Proof no. 6 [Y/N SPOTTED IN LESS LIKELY EVENTS PT.1]

“I don’t really celebrate any holidays.” you shared during an interview back in 2014. “I just spend those days like my other rest days except I send gifts to my friends.”

You have been living alone ever since you were emancipated from your father’s control. You usually sleep or work through Christmas and New Year’s eve or any other commonly big holiday, treating it as a normal day. You always find it exhausting to prepare for such events when you live alone. The only special event you celebrate is your mom’s or close friends’ birthdays. Your fans are aware of this fact and made sure to send you sweet greetings during holidays as you post pictures from your home. You were never spotted outside either by the press during these events.

@/DonnyNextDoor: happy thanksgiving from us!!

In the celebration of Thanksgiving Day back in 2021, Donny posted a photo of your circle of friends. You stood next to Bella Hadid, who was Donny’s girlfriend at the time. Next to you were Jin and your three other mutual friends.

@/daisiesandroses: omg yn holiday contents

Fans were happy to see you with friends during that time. They expected that you will post something for Christmas and New Year’s too. However, you only posted an Instagram story each, greeting everyone. Someone claimed they spotted you in New York for Times Square Ball but no pictures floated online.

Proof no. 7: [VERSACE ON THE FLOOR]

It has been known to everyone that you have always been a massive admirer of the luxury fashion brand, Versace. Donatella has been a great friend of yours ever since you became a brand ambassador for the said brand when you were 22. And even though you had contracts with other brands in the following years, you maintained a good relationship with her. You’ve also been invited to fashion week events and you always try to go if your tight schedule can accommodate it. You were even featured in Bruno Mars’ music video for his hit song, Versace On The Floor.

@/SE0KJINM00N: SOMEONE SEND ME THAT PHOTO HE DELETED IT!!

@/hellobubba: was that versace on that fucking floor or am i seeing things

@/peopleoncrnlstrt: LMAO he deleted the ig story

But sometime in 2019, Jin posted a picture in his Instagram Stories which he deleted less than two minutes later. The photo is simple. It was a picture of the latest book he read. He was holding it down, seemingly an innocent one. But if you travel your eyes to the upper corner of the image, even though the background’s a little blurry, a black piece of clothing can be seen. It was immediately recognizable due to the fact that it has the word Versace printed all over it.

And since you were the closest person to him that everyone knows, the fans assumed it was yours. You were once seen a couple of years ago sporting a bikini top with the same design, just different colors. People searched online and found that there is, indeed, a Versace one-piece swimsuit with the exact design.

Although the photo was never talked about in public, that Versace mystery became an inside joke in the fandom.

Proof no. 8: [LIVING TOGETHER ALLEGATIONS PT. 2]

urfavecatlady started a live video. Watch it before it ends!

August 2020. You had a five-minute live on your Instagram account, simply just to chat with your fans while you were waiting for your cookies in the oven. It was short yet chaotic.

“Oh, I tried baking today! I saw an easy recipe online. I’ll share the link on Twitter later.” you answered a fan as you put down your phone. You sported a now-messy apron. The apron? It was a gift from Timmy. He learned I love ba–”“

“Ouch!”

Someone exclaimed in the background, followed by the noises of something falling on the ground. You paused and looked at whatever was behind your phone. Your eyes widened. But you tried to compose yourself as you look back at the camera.

“Francheskat jumped on some– on my stuff. Gotta go! I’ll update y’all with the cookies later. Bye!” your voice trailed off as you end the Instagram Live.

@/amymarchdefender: i think i heard someone during yn’s live

@/princessbubblegum: is she quarantining with someone???!?

Some fans claimed it was not Francheskat, but Jin. Although the mystery voice was not that audible, they claimed it was him. Others believed that maybe you are really going through lockdowns with someone who is not Jin. There are few people who believe that you really have a longtime secret partner, someone who is not in the same industry as you. Nonetheless, everyone never knew who it was.

The thread still receives updates from time to time even though you took a break and Jin is not really that active on social media. The owner of the tweet still gets submissions from various fans.

Now, October 2023. Jin hasn’t had any public appearances since his series premiere on HBO. He is still in for Waller-Bridge’s movie. You, on the other hand, were getting gossip that you will be having a cameo with Greta Gerwig’s Barbie. Some believed that you will be retiring or will take years to come back. Both of you two were not active on social media. Your last post in your Instagram feed was in August. And Jin’s was May.

But one of Hollywood's biggest celebrity gossip sources is the Instagram account, Deuxmoi, posted something that made a noise in your fandom.

Sent via form submission from Deuxmoi

Pseudonyms, Please: Cookie Monster

Email: [email protected]

Subject: Everyone’s Fave Cat Lady

Message: A friend of mine works in one of the longest-running live television shows. They said that a prominent A-lister actress is returning in front of the cameras after taking a sudden break for more than a year. Her comeback will be announced next week! Watch out!

taglist rules

THE A-LISTERS TAGLIST

@jub-jub @yoontaethings @kissme-ornot @sleepy-daydreams @veronawrites @cuteipat @ratherbefangirling @babystarcandy-gcf @akirawhore @alpacaparkaseok @rjsmochii @lovesickbangtan @rapmonie2047 @btsiguess-kpop @angelarin @walkinganxiety0 @bloopkook @yoooonie @amara-mars @firesighgirl @zwiehe @hiii-priestess @lojocas @juju-227592 @singukieee @eshtravagent @canarystwin @petalsofink

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @pixybear @miyukihoshi @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23

#jin x reader #jin fluff #bts jin #jin fic #jin au #seokjin x reader #seokjin fanfiction #bts social media au #seokjin fluff #bts fluff #bts angst #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts series #bts au #bts fanfic #the a listers ksj

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