#sorry obviously have a fixation attacking me

[zora-moyashi]

same energy

[ozzgin]

I'm the anon who asked if your requests are open and i got busy assignments + presentations that i almost forgot about the request but now i remembered and it's based on my dream i saw that night..

How about a vampire who lost his relic (presumably a ring) and reader happens find it and tries it on, now the vampire is all panicking because guess what? That was a betrothal relic and it has binded the vampire's soul with the one of reader. They can't pull it out/take it of.. oh well, now they are stuck and obviously the vampire hates the idea of being stuck with a pesky human but hey they are kinda stupid..? How tf they tripped on thin air? Or how they are still alive even after being food poisoned 5 times a month? Vampire is now babysitter for his human *sighs * what has he gotten himself in..

(Please add yandere elements later on, my brain stoopid but i want a hot Victorian era vampire being obsessed with me ^^ muah!)

(I'm sorry this is so lengthy TT)

Yandere! Vampire x Reader

Featuring a ridiculously lucky Reader who constantly manages to escape a Vampire's assassination attempts. Did someone order a supernatural edition of enemies to lovers?

Content: gender neutral reader, obsessive behavior, mentions of stalking, romcom

[Monster masterlist] [Original works masterlist]

"Are you alright, (Y/N)?" your friends gasp in unison, eyes fixated on the fallen ceramic pot that scarcely missed you, now laying shattered at your feet. You laugh reassuringly and wave your hand in dismissal. "It's the fifth time it happens today. Maybe there's a storm coming?"

From within the shadows, menacing eyes glowing red follow your movements. "Damn it!" The mysterious man curses under his breath. He stares enviously at the bulky ring on your finger. The ring bearing his Family signet, where part of his very soul resides. It has stayed with him for centuries, and somehow, to his utmost shame, he lost it. By the time he rushed back to retrieve it, you were carelessly sliding it down your finger. He wanted to strangle the life out of you right then and there, but he felt it: the immediate surge of contractual power, dominating his will and holding him back from breaking your bones. "It's a little tacky, isn't it?" your friend remarked. You nodded in agreement and tried to remove it, but the metal band tightened around your skin, painfully constricting your digit. It was stuck. It was too late.

Now he has to rely on cheap trickeries like this one. Sure, he may not be able to directly plunge his fangs into your neck, but the bonding curse does not shield you from "accidents", you see. It would be a real shame if that flower pot was to land straight into your head, ending you instantly and thus breaking the connection with him. Except you simply refuse to die. A mystery, a paradox, one that enrages him to no end. It's almost as if the ring is bringing you fortune at the cost of his misery.

"Have you had any luck removing that ugly thing?" the person standing next to you mentions. The vampire lord grits his teeth at the blasphemous words. This is what's become of him: a deceitful buffoon, having to sit and listen to his inheritance being mocked relentlessly. He holds back the urge of shouting that thousands have bled to death in order to forge that magnificence. "Not at all", you respond idly. "I tried taking it to a jeweler, and she said she could try to cut it, but she ended up having a heart attack right in the middle of it. She didn't even look that old, maybe it runs in her family?"

Unbelievable. The thought of reclaiming his relic haunts every second of his day, to the point he's become your shadow. Stalking your every move, your every breath, observing his prey and waiting for an opportunity to strike. He can already picture that pathetic face of yours, twisting in pain, begging for-...huh. Well, look at that, you're reading one of his favorite books. Perhaps you do have a little taste, after all. It won't save you from your terrible fate, but he might skip the prolonged torture.

There's plenty of quotes out there about knowing your enemy in order to guarantee your victory, though one might wonder where the limit of such knowledge resides. Or what counts as useful to begin with. The vampire lord is presently wondering about this very aspect, as he mouths your coffee order from a distance. Less sugar, huh? You did mention losing your sweet tooth. He shakes his head indignantly. Absolutely not! The throb of his heart is fueled by raw hatred and nothing else. One of days he will savour your demise.

Your ridiculous luck might just end today. You've taken a shortcut on your way back home, and didn't expect a shady, burly man to block your exit. A perverted grin stains his face as he approaches you, twiddling with his pocket knife. "Alone at this hour?" You frown and try to find a way out, but the man suddenly begins to heave and convulse before your eyes, grasping at his chest as the skin shrivels and dries. He collapses at your feet, body wilted as if it's been emptied of its vitality. The Vampire Lord clicks his tongue.

To think he'd rush to rescue his sworn enemy, a pitiful mortal like you. He didn't even get the chance to consider the aftermath. You stare at the stranger, confused but observant. Pale skin, crimson eyes, unnaturally sharp canines...and the fact he just drained a living being into a bloodless corpse: everything hints to one possibility. "Are you by any chance a vampire?" you find yourself mumbling. "You must've graduated from Harvard with those deduction skills", he responds sarcastically.

Everything else unfolds in a haze. Wasn't he planning to kill you and retrieve his ring? When the hell did he offer to walk you home to avoid more creeps? Why is he twirling his hair sheepishly whenever you praise his demonic powers? Oh, but it gets worse: why did he suddenly feel the urge to kiss you before returning to his cursed lair? Why did he accept your invitation to spend the night at your place instead? One moment ago, he was doing his best to curse you off this Earth. Now he's tugging stray strands of hair away from your blushing, whining face, asking you if it hurts. Damned human.

"How did you know I like this? Have you been stalking me?" you joke, nudging your undead boyfriend and setting the gift aside. "More or less", he confesses with a yawn. He recalls all that time spent dutifully spying on your oblivious self. "You know, a human like you shouldn't be able to dodge death like that." He turns to you and scans your features. Then, abruptly embarrassed, he ruffles your hair to block you from noticing his blush. "I suppose my failure was the better outcome. It's not too bad, having you around."

[toxicanonymity]

For context, a tumblr account has been posting anon hate for the past week or so, mostly toward writers. A parasocial hater of mine discovered the account and has been going to town. I posted this after they invoked Israel as an analogy. Yes really.

Obviously I am disgusted by what I just read, and floored that anyone would post such a deranged analogy in the interest of stirring up fandom drama. I'm very sorry to everyone who has been attacked and everyone who has witnessed all this. Others have posted about the situation as a whole, and I'm not sure what I could add. But I want you to know many of these "confessions" are from one individual who has been fixated on me (and probably others) for weeks if not months. I already had the following in my drafts:

warning: please don't read this if you're sensitive to hate or could be triggered by the trivialization of real abuse. (edit: they went on to trivialize genocide too but they'll pretend to be different people). there's also a really gross anatomical reference.

the screenshots are all after I blocked them.

I normally don't address things like this, but that's because I'm trying to keep it off your dash and off my blog (for several reasons including not wanting to give the hate a larger audience for their message). Normally I block/delete. But thanks to a blog dedicated to posting anon hate, some of this is already on the dash, and I thought some additional context could be illuminating.

a couple weeks ago, this person chimed in on my non-fandom post, and their comment made me uncomfortable. I checked to see if they followed me and they didn't, plus their blog tagline was antagonistic. I was confident they weren't being earnest. I replied, pointing out my issue with their comment and asking them to keep their thoughts to themselves rather than coming at me from a sideblog. I thought they must have followed me from a main account since they somehow found an untagged, unreblogged post without following me. But I now realize they were simply hate checking my blog.

(Blocked the burner too)

They were saying this last bit preemptively - I've never talked about stalkers here. I didn't include all their anons, just enough to show they clearly out themselves as being the same person. In other "confessions," they make repeated references to a former fandom writer they idolize (not me) who they also posted about on their blog.

I won't be dropping this creep's url in this post, but I had never heard of them. This week they have repeatedly changed their url, display name, and blog appearance. Their writing is recognizable and I believe they are responsible for the unhinged asks preceding katy's departure from tumblr. They also made a rude comment on her post.

This may only aggravate them. I expect them to hurl any lies and accusations they can think of toward me. They will act like they're laughing and amused, too. You may recognize their tone. I want to trust this fandom not to believe and repeat anything they hear, but unfortunately my experience in this fandom leaves me pessimistic.

I can only hope people use common sense at this point.

Note - I know I'm normally really private about everything, but you're welcome to share this. Their lies are already out there anyway. Also feel free to DM me and I will tell you what you want to know.

Update: the anon-hate account referred to above has deactivated. It was named pedgeconfessions. It wasn't the first to pop up this summer and may not be the last.

[xogiulianna]

PLAYING DANGEROUS

you want to try something new - making you turn to your best friend, chris, for help.

contains : slapping, choking, masturbation, slight dacryphilia

you're not sure why you were so susceptible to these urges, but they were strong and distracting, occupying your thoughts constantly.

they got so intrusive that it came to a point where you couldn't act normal, not even around one of your closest friends.

you were over at the triplets' house one friday night, per usual, watching a movie with chris.

he had already begun interrupting the film after merely ten minutes of watching, just because he wanted to ramble about his 'bright' idea of having a pillow fight, like how it happens in the cliché movie sleepovers.

eventually, you agreed, just to shut him up.

your fight started out normal, the living room filled with the sound of laughter and pillows thudding against bodies.

after a few strikes, you have a moment of weakness. your arms had already gotten tired from hitting chris constantly, while simultaneously trying to dodge his attacks.

taking advantage of your weariness, chris rips your pillow out of your grasp, tossing it onto the floor, too far away for you to reach.

"not fair!" you exclaim, trying to scramble past chris to retrieve your weapon, but he lightly shoves your shoulder, pushing you down into the corner of the couch.

"got ya," he chuckles, smiling down at you devilishly as he kneels above you, his arm retracting behind him with the pillow clutched in his hand.

not wanting to get hit in the face, you quickly reach out and yank the cushion out of his hand and down into your lap - just as he begins to bring his arm down in the direction of your head.

a crack echoes throughout the room, the noise bouncing off the walls and making your mind spin.

"oh, my god- no, fuck, are you okay?"

your head is knocked to the side, a fiery stinging sensation exploding across your cheek, every nerve ending in your face tingling with raw pain.

"shit.. hey, look at me, i’m so sorry.."

you sit frozen in shock, forcing your eyes open after you wired them shut on impact.

"let me see.."

wincing slightly at the gentle touch of chris’s hand on your face, your eyes shift over to him. his expression is etched with worry as he examines the red blotch blooming across your cheek where his hand had struck you.

"damn it, kid. it was an accident.. only meant for the pillow to hit you, i swear."

a wave of humiliation washes over you notice that your eyes have gotten all watery from the sheer impact and intensity of the shock that coursed through your body.

"come on, don't cry." chris murmurs softly, his eyes flitting across your features.

you sniffle, shaking your head and snapping yourself out of the dazed state you were enveloped in.

"no, chris, stop." you say, shoving past him and getting up off the couch. "it's fine."

ignoring his persuasions to come back, you quickly rush down the hall to the bathroom, shutting yourself in. you stare back at your reflection in the mirror, bringing your fingertips up to lightly graze the sensitive mark on your cheek.

in the small room, you feel suffocated. all of the emotions and feelings you’re experiencing at once are weighing down on your shoulders, making your brain feel fuzzy.

you feel hurt, obviously - chris is pretty strong. naturally, your face is still irritated from the blow he landed on your skin.

however - you're sure that chris would never do something like this on purpose, you can tell by the way he was so quick to become completely apologetic, inspecting the damage he’d done.

this.. made you frustrated.

deep down, something’s burning inside you, something filthy, something you want to indulge in.

your gaze is fixated on yourself in the mirror, analyzing your red face and your heaving chest as you inhale shallow, labored breaths.

you try to ignore the heat pooled in your stomach. you didn’t want to like this.

chris is your best friend, and he’s good looking, you knew that, but you’ve never had any sexual feelings towards him. plus, it was an accident.

so why is your body practically trembling with want? with the need for more?

it’s been several days since last friday. you’ve been ignoring chris’ texts and calls. you left him to assume that you were just angry with him for hitting you - and part of you truly was infuriated, because if he hadn’t done that, you’d have been able to focus on anything else except the incident.

you finally gave in after chris started forcing his two brothers to start texting you, checking up on you, asking you to come over.

upon arriving at his house, just seeing his face when he opened the door reminded you of your darkest desires, making you silently curse yourself for having no willpower anymore.

chris notices your demeanor, asks you what’s wrong, and you panic. you immediately usher him into his bedroom, wanting to avoid the lingering presences of nick and matt throughout the house.

"kid- what’re you doin'?" chris grumbles as you shove him through the doorway, closing you two in the room with a slam of the door. "i told you, im real sorry, i didn’t mean to hit you-"

"chris, just shut up for a second," you snap. he’s apologized numerous times, you knew he was sorry, you knew that he felt bad.

but you didn’t want him to feel like that.

you didn’t want him to be apologetic, because the ugly truth is that you liked it. you wanted to experience the sensation again, properly.

chris is just standing and staring at you, face twisted into utter confusion. you’ve never seriously lost your temper with him before.

"i’m not mad at you," you clarify, sighing and walking over to sit yourself down on his bed.

"okay.." chris says carefully, sitting down with you, the edge of the mattress dipping underneath his weight. "then what’s got you acting like this?"

you pinch the bridge of your nose, squeezing your eyes shut. you can hardly believe what you’re about to say, but you just can’t keep it a secret.

you and chris don’t lie to each other; however, you don’t normally get serious like this. everything is lighthearted between you two - making this situation all the more stressful.

"promise me.." you speak hesitantly. "if i tell you, that you won’t get weirded out?"

chris quickly shakes his head, his interest piqued even further. "no, i promise. y’can tell me anything."

exhaling another long sigh, you fight an entire war in your mind in the span of a few seconds. heat crawls up your neck, the walls feeling like they’ll close in around you if you don’t speak up. just say it. just tell him.

"i can’t stop thinking about how it felt."

"what?" chris’ brows drop, his eyes scrutinizing you. you look down, trying to hide the red tint spreading across your cheeks. your eyes fixate firmly on your lap as you toy with the hem of your shirt.

"what do you mean?" chris questions. your pulse rings in your ears, each thump of your heart making your torso twitch.

"i mean, it made me.." your breathing becomes shallow, your voice struggling to speak your mind as the words crumble in your mouth.

forcing yourself to look up at him, you make yourself spit the words out.

"i want you to do it again."

chris' lips part, his eyes darkening. "nah, you’re messin' with me. that isn’t funny." he rasps.

you shake your head. "i’m not, chris. i swear."

"that's crazy, i don't.." he chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. "you’re killin’ me here, i.. i’m not gonna hit y-"

"please," you whisper, cutting his rejection off. "i just need to feel it one more time."

chris' fingers twitch, his tongue running across the inside of his cheek. he stares blankly at you for a moment, making you want to melt into his bed and disappear forever.

just as you're about to take everything back - tell him to just forget about it and rush out of his room, he reaches out towards you.

grabbing your chin in one hand, he coaxes you to lean back on his bed, giving your shoulder a gentle push with his other hand. his knee comes to settle between your legs, his body slanted towards yours.

"you're playin' dangerous, you know that?" chris growls, moving his thumb to brush across your cheek, right over the same spot he landed the accidental blow just days ago. "you’re really askin' me to hurt you?"

you only nod in response, staring up at him - seeing your best friend in a completely new light. noticing lust in his eyes for the first time, it made you question everything.

"nah," he smirks, shaking his head. "need you to tell me how bad you want it. lemme hear you."

you were starstuck by his words, his low voice echoing in your mind and bouncing off your bones, sending electric shocks through your body.

"chris, i- we don't have to.." you breathe out, the situation suddenly feeling a little too real.

"mm-mm," he hums teasingly. "you got yourself into this, doll." he trails his hand down to your throat, wrapping his fingers around your throat, but not quite squeezing. "go on, tell me what you want from me."

"i.." you swallow harshly, eyes wildly searching chris' face as your pupils become swallowed in black, giving away your desire immediately. "i want you to.."

"c'mon, you said you’ve been thinkin' about it, so tell me. use your words." he says, his voice dripping with poison.

"want you to hit me," you mutter. "i just.. please, chris?"

"fuckin’ pathetic," chris laughs, rolling his eyes before suddenly lifting his hand, his open palm connecting with your cheek so hard it feels like your brain rattled in your skull.

he grins at your startled reaction, the way you’re looking at him him with such a desperate expression - it only spurs him on. you barely register the pain spreading across your skin, you’re too enamored by this new version of chris.

"this what you wanted?" he asks, his tone unforgiving as his hand tightens around your neck. "want me to rough you up a lil' bit, huh?”

you snag your lip inbetween your teeth, biting down hard as you nod, whining in the back of your throat. your insides feel like they’re on fire, your thighs squeezing together as you anticipate the next hit.

"who knew you were such a slut?" he hisses, striking your face harder the second time - earning a moan out of you.

"oh my god," you whimper, your face colliding with the pillow you’re laying on from the impact of the second hit.

the lower half of your body shifts uncomfortably, the aching between your thighs becoming so intense that it’s clouding your brain. your jaw clenches bitterly.

chris notices how you’re trying to press your legs together, a groan rumbling in his chest. "god.. how fuckin' wet are you right now?" he snarls.

your skin is burning hot with embarrassment, and having to admit how turned on you are only makes it worse. you’re too flustered at this point to actually say anything, so you decide to visually tell him.

with shaky hands, you find the waistband of your sweatpants, lifting up your hips to tug them halfway down your thighs, not even bothering to get them fully off. chris drinks in the sight of you with hunger, his gaze landing on the wet area of your panties where your arousal has soaked through.

"fuck, you really like this." he whispers ardently, slipping his hand between your legs. his touch is feather-light as he brushes his fingertips up your inner thighs and across your clothed pussy. you shudder, a soft whine slipping out of your throat, strangled by chris' film hold on your neck.

"show me." he mutters.

"what?" you choke out, squirming under his piercing stare.

"wanna see just how much you're enjoying it when i hit you." he says, hooking a finger in your underwear. he tugs them down in one harsh motion, eliciting a gasp from you. "touch yourself." he orders, his tone hushed.

tossing aside all your dignity, you skate your fingers down your stomach and to your core, plunging into your slick folds. staring up at chris apprehensively, you rub slow circles on your clit, fingertips soaked by your own juices.

"so eager to listen to me, huh?" he quips, releasing his hold on your neck to cradle your face securely instead. his other hand travels to your hip and obtains a bruising grip on your body, holding you still.

you start to moan while stimulating yourself, but the noise is cut short by another smack. then another, and another - each one making you even more aroused than the last.

"chris," you cry out, your back arching up off the bed. your fingers start aching as you uncontrollably increase your pace, touching yourself with an intense fervor. the right side of your face burns with the building pain of each hit, making your eyes flood with tears.

"too much?" he murmurs, grabbing your face and inspecting the pretty red color blossoming across the area he's been targeting. "you're cryin', kid." he licks his lips, watching as a droplet slips down the side of your face, dripping into your hair.

"no, it's so good- i.." you whisper urgently, your voice shaky and breathless. "keep.. keep going, m'gonna finish already.."

"good," chris purrs, gently stroking your cheek, watching you writhe beneath him for a few moments before giving the same amount of attention to the other side of your face - backhanding your left cheek, his knuckles clashing with your supple skin.

his dick twitches in his boxers at the sight of plump tears gliding down your scarlet cheeks.

"oh, my- fuck!" you mewl, your face screwing up in pure euphoria as the twisted knot in your lower stomach tensing, your abdomen tensing as you start to mentally rip apart at the seams.

"that's it," chris hisses. "cum on your fingers f'me, dirty girl." he hovers over you, threading one hand in your hair as he lands a final hit across your face right as you climax. your body convulses while an animalistic groan is ripped from your throat, turning into a breathy whine. your release leaks out from your entrance, soaking your fingers and dripping down to the bedsheets.

you collapse into a flushed, gasping mess against chris' bed, your eyes pinched shut in euphoria. your pussy throbs, your whole body feeling extra sensitive after your mind-bending orgasm.

once the moment is over, it's like chris reverts back into a friend instead of - whatever role he was just playing.

"uh, shit." he murmurs, pushing himself off the bed, wincing as it finally registers that he has a painful erection that's formed in his pants. "yeah- stay here, um, let me.." he trails off, rushing out of his bedroom.

he wants to get you an icepack - but if his brothers saw him retrieving it, they'd probably question him about it. he settles for a cloth soaked with cold water for your face, and a separate one to clean up the mess you made.

returning to his room, he fights back a groan at the downright goddess-esque state he left you in - half dressed, laying limp on the bed with a thin layer of sweat coating your flushed skin, your hair frizzy and splayed out across his pillows.

"here," he offers the cold cloth to you, swallowing thickly as he sits on the edge of the bed and gently cleans the slick coating your folds and the insides of your thighs. you press the chilly, damp material to your stinging face, sighing shakily at the stark contrasting sensation. you allow chris to take care of you, his movements slow and tender as he pulls your underwear and sweatpants back up to cover yourself.

"thank you," you murmur, silently paying that the uneasiness of this odd situation won't affect your friendship negatively.

"yeah, no problem," chris responds softly, moving himself up the bed to lay down next to you. "next time you wanna try somethin', don't wait so long, 'kay?" he asks, a grin crossing his lips.

"next time?" you question, your brows quirking as you look over at him.

"well," he chuckles. "after seein' you like that.. i don't think i can just let this be a one-time thing."

a/n : this took me forever omg i haven't tried writing anything like this before !! i'm sorry if there's any mistakes or parts that don't really make sense. i hope this is sufficient for the sturniolo fans hahah all their writers on here are so so amazing

xo giulia

[vanilla-rainbows]

Wreck-it Ralph AU - GUARDIAN

Ok, let me preface this by saying three (3) things:

English is not my first language. I’m currently incapable of writing fanfiction in a language that is not my own, so please forgive me. Feel free to correct me if you see any mistakes!

I welcome all kinds of feedback. Just don’t be rude, please TTwTT

This might get long and messy. I haven’t really planned out anything with this AU and all of this is 100% vibes, but I’m open to suggestions and might expand/change/delete things as I go.

The (quite long) premise of this AU is basically this: Turbo survived the events of the first movie (original I know) because he rewrote so much of himself into Sugar Rush that the game now thinks he’s actually part of it. So he respawns, but gets kicked out of the game and is forced to go back to his previous life as a gameless character in Game Central Station. Only difference, everyone this time KNOWS he’s alive and what he did (because Ralph and/or Vanellope explained the whole situation to the rest of the arcade). So everyone basically treats him like shit (more or less like Vanellope). He’s both shunned and mocked by the other characters, and is forcefully kept away from every game in the arcade, to prevent him from “going Turbo” again.

But the thing is, he’s actually powerless now, and can’t actually do anything dangerous anymore. He lost the cy-bug part of his code (sorry kcb fans but the tall menacing cockroach doesn’t exactly give out the pathetic wet cat vibes that this au demands) because of the reset, and even glitches between his Turbo and King Candy model at times. He’s hit rock bottom and he knows it. And obviously he blames it all on Vanellope and Ralph, and wants to take revenge on them. So, knowing how powerful his cy-bug form was, he decides to wait for a chance to sneak into Hero’s Duty and get himself eaten again by one of the creatures. THEN he will be free to wreak havoc on the arcade and happily destroy every single game in it (starting with Sugar Rush of course). And ABSOLUTELY no one will be able to stop him.

So naturally he gets stopped again. This is where I’d introduce the OC I’m planning for this AU. Her name is Luna and she is the titular protagonist of Luna’s Adventure (might change later), a fantasy adventure that resembles the first Zelda game in terms of graphics and mechanics (also might change later). Luna is essentially an optimistic, but not an hopeless one. Being one of the oldest characters in the arcade (she’s from the 80’ as well), she knew who Turbo was back in the day and is fully aware of the situation, but doesn’t really like the “let’s all laugh at him” mentality. So she mostly ignores/pities him, and makes sure he doesn’t try anything funny with her game. That is, until she spots him as he’s sneaking into Hero’s Duty during opening hours. She immediately takes action and follows him into the game. At first she tries to talk him out of it, but her pleads fall of deaf ears, as Turbo is too fixated on his revenge plan to even listen to her. He feels like he has no other options. He lost everything, again. In the eyes of the other characters, he’s but a pest. Better be feared than respected at this point. This desperate attempt (which seems more like self-destructing behaviour) is his last chance.

The heated back and forth between the two grabs the attention of a solitary cy-bug, which immediately attacks them. Luna quickly avoids the creature and safely gets to a hidden spot, but when she notices that Turbo has no intention of running away, on the contrary, he’s purposefully exposing himself like the snack he is, she jumps on him and saves him from the incoming cy-bug attack. So for a few minutes we have the comical situation of Luna continuously saving Turbo and herself from the cy-bug, and Turbo trying so hard to get eaten but getting saved everytime. Eventually the cy-bug is shot to death by Calhoun herself, who IS SO READY to blast Turbo out of existence with all of her arsenal, but desists when Luna explains the whole situation to her. Still, the sergeant has no intention of keeping the glitchy gremling in her game a second longer, and escorts both of them out. Turbo lashes out at Luna for ruining his ultimate plan, but before she can say anything back, the arcade opens. Luna leaves in a hurry, telling Turbo to behave while she’s away because she’s not done with him. So he’s left in the middle of GCS wandering what the hack she meant by that.

That night, all main characters from each game reunite to discuss what to do with Turbo. Felix, Ralph, Vanellope, Calhoun and Luna are all present. Turns out they have no idea how to handle the situation. They can’t let him run freely around the arcade. What would happen if he tried to infiltrate another game? Unsurprisingly, no one mentions Surge Protector. Someone suggests they could simply kill him. He deserves it, after all. Ralph is neutral, Vanellope is slightly against the idea, but Felix jumps up and firmly says that they are not going to kill anyone. If they did, they wouldn’t be better than him. Then Calhoun makes a proposal. Just like keeping the cy-bugs inside Hero’s Duty is also part of her, well, duty, someone should take on the role of a warden to Turbo, keeping him inside their game and out of everyone else’s. Obviously she can’t do it, neither Vanellope, so another character will have to.

The problem is that no one wants to have anything to do with Turbo. They may mock him during the day, but they really are all just terrified by him. The fear of getting unplugged is so strong that no one is willing to take the risk. No one, but Luna. While everyone argues, she slowly stands up and offers herself to be Turbo’s guardian. The room goes silent for a few seconds, but eventually everyone applauds her courage.

Now comes the hard part. Luna has to find a delicate way to break the news to her colleagues. They obviously have A LOT to say about it, but she is able to convince them. Sort of. Things might not be so simple after all. Even though she agreed to keep an eye on Turbo, she’s not sure how exactly this decision will affect her and her game. Was it really the right thing to do? What if he became really dangerous? She’s actually starting to reconsider, when an idea forms in her coded mind. What if… she were to teach him goodness? What if she offered him a chance, instead of treating him like a criminal? All I have to say is that Turbo will definitely take advantage of the situation and play along, all so that he can finally have his sweet revenge.

That’s all for now. I have a few ideas on how the story could continue, and a few interactions that I absolutely want to incorporate as well. Also I already have a finale in mind, and I hope to eventually get to that (the final scene is the one most clear in my mind right now). So, if you actually managed to read all that, thank you! Now I can go back to being a normal human being again (delusional).

[jooniperbonsai]

Thanks for the Sub (ksj) | Chapter Six

Pairing: Camboy!Seokjin x Gamer!Reader (afab)

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 9k 13.5k (SORRYYYYY)

Release date: October 2, 2024

Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, camboy au, gamer au, comedy, crack, slow burn, coworkers/boss/friends to lovers, an exploration of adults in their late 20s/early 30s

Summary: The intensity between you and Seokjin is building, but there's still some shadows of the past that just won't let you go.

Chapter Warnings: angst, negative/derogatory comments toward sex workers, god so much tenderness I really leaned in with the fluff here huh, more panic attacks, relationship insecurity/fears of inadequacy, dirty talking, praise kink, fingering, handjob, sex toys, little bit of exhibition and voyeurism implied, references to masturbation, references to bdsm, slight bratting, y/n teared up a bit again sorry, 1 slap to the thigh, slight body image issues/allusions to fatphobia, dry humping, god Seokjin is such a simp my god he is so in love what a moron to not realize it, body positivity and normalization of bodies, the honeymoon early relationship period of them constantly wanting to fuck phase is upon us, blowjob, slight implied cum kink? Idk they kinda fixate on it sometimes, lying,

a/n: We are so back! Enjoy the newest chapter. I really needed the break this summer. I was so busy with my job and life happening I barely could do anything except go to work, sleep, stare into the abyss. But things have slowed down a bit so the ideas can really keep flowing. Thanks for your patience in all this. I hope you enjoy! -h

“I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me,” the woman said, rolling a pen between her fingers as she sat on the counter of the kitchen with a clipboard in her lap. 

Seokjin chewed his bottom lip anxiously. There was a late shipment and somehow no one else had shown up in time to receive it. He couldn’t be discussing this now, not when he knew there would be customers arriving any minute while heaps of prep work and inventory needed to be done. 

“There’s nothing I’m not telling you,” he said, reaching behind her for the crate of pears he needed to place in the fridge. 

“Mhm,” the woman hummed. Her head was dipped. Seokjin thought she was you, but something had to be off. “So you’re just going to fuck me like I’m some viewer and then get back to work, is it?” 

He froze in place. “What do you mean?” 

“You know exactly what I mean,” she said, sighing and hopping off the counter. She pushed off with such force the precariously stacked jars and cans all crashed to the floor. “Whoops,” she said, giggling. 

Seokjin’s heart rate picked up, and as he moved to question her further, he heard his cell phone ringing. But in the mess of the kitchen, he couldn’t find it. 

“I can’t talk about this right now,” he said, fishing through the piles of unpackaged chives, which appeared to be doubling in quantity the more he dug. 

Somewhere in the background he heard the front door open. 

“How…did you unlock the front door already?” 

The face came into focus, and as he thought, it was you standing there. You raised an eyebrow. “Um, no?” 

He couldn’t believe this was happening. Why now you were taking on some careless personality that was unlike you? This was something he’d expect from your coworkers but not you. You cared about this place too much. 

“Well there are two people here right now, and I wasn’t the one who left the door unlocked. Can you at least tell them we’re not open?” God, where was his phone? Where was anyone?

“But they’re not here for food,” you said softly, and Seokjin puffed a chest of air, trying to get himself to calm down. 

“Then, what the fuck are they here for?” 

“The show, obviously.��� He whipped his head in your direction. You were holding his phone up, smiling wickedly. 

“I don’t know what show you mean!” he practically shouted. “Did you have my phone this entire time and were fucking with me?” 

You laughed, sounding bitter and distant, less like you and more like someone else he knew. 

“You are the one who seems to like to do the fucking with, well everything and everyone else,” you spit. 

“What does that even mea-”

You cut him off, holding your finger to your cupid’s bow and answering his still-ringing phone. 

“Oh, Mrs. Kim, hello. Yes, Seokjin is here, he’s just busy with something. Oh you’re back so soon? Then you’ll have to stop by today. It’s going to be an interesting show.” 

You hung up then tossed his phone aside. Seokjin couldn’t move. Couldn’t get over the rapidly growing pile of chives that were threatening to drown him in their smell. Couldn’t get to his phone quick enough or ask you why you were behaving so cruelly. So cryptically. 

Some of the chives toppled over his head and he lost his balance, following the wave to wherever it would take him next. As he reached up to the surface, he felt himself be jolted outward and he smacked right at the bottom of a pair of shoes. 

“Pathetic,” the owner said, and as he rolled over, Seokjin could see that you were sitting on the counter across the room, where he just had been, looking more like yourself, more worried about him. You didn’t speak however, just watched as he crawled to his knees and pushed up. Seokjin stood, and then realized the owner of the shoes was Soon Yi, who was staring back at him with pure malice. 

“You really couldn’t get your shit together without me, huh? Couldn’t just get a job like everyone else? You ended up being a pornstar and running your parents’ shitty little restaurant?” 

Seokjin’s mouth felt like it was filled with pennies. As he opened to speak, to defend himself, he realized he couldn’t. His mouth was duct taped, and the outfit Soon Yi was wearing was…it was kinky. She had a bra on but it wasn’t really doing much, only went to the curve under the swell of her breasts, and tape x’s covered her nipples. He could see from her exposed abdomen that was also pregnant again, her stomach heavy and taught. She wore some kind of thong, but Seokjin didn’t really want to see how big or small that thing was. Nor was his body reacting to her and the dominatrix type of persona she had undertaken. Was this how she was with her husband, Seokjin’s former boss? Why was she even here?

“It looks like I’ll be taking care of you after all,” she said, and a riding crop that Seokjin swore was never there before was in her hands. “Now be a good dog and sit.” 

His eyes shot to you, and he saw how betrayed you look as he, despite all the restraint he had, fell to his knees for his ex. 

“Good. Now, are you coming or not? There’s so many people waiting for you.”

He tried to shake his head as he kept his focus on you. Wanting to tell you that this wasn’t at all what it looked like, that he had been trying to fight against Soon Yi. 

But he didn’t have control over his body; he couldn't speak. So he left you in the back room, crawling like a dog into the main part of the restaurant which now looked like…his home office? 

At least part of it. The desk chair he sat in often to stream at was in the center of the room and crowds of strangers were there. Seokjin also noticed that he was naked. 

He followed Soon Yi, and scanned the crowd again, this time seeing to his horror his parents had arrived, their shock and disappointment rocking him with so much shame he felt tears spring to his eyes. 

How was everything falling apart? 

Next to his parents, you sat, too. And you were crying, though no one paid you any mind as you shook your head at him as Soon Yi propped him into the chair and turned him toward the crowd. 

“Here he is, ladies and gentleman. Tonight, Jin will be doing a very special performance for you.” She turned around and like magic, she went from holding nothing to Seokjin’s too familiar sparkly pink dildo in her hands. 

His eyes widened. No, he was going to do that here? In front of his family? In front of you? He shook his head again, this time at Soon Yi, who laughed. 

“What? I’m just doing you a favor. Just letting everyone see who you really are.” 

He was hard now, despite himself. Soon Yi laughed again. 

“I guess someone should take care of that for you,” she said, and Seokjin felt her reach down and squeeze his length. He hated that her doing that made him moan. It was churning his stomach to even think of. 

“I’m not going to fuck you,” she said, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Thank god. 

“Y/N, come here.” Seokjin wasn’t sure how Soon Yi knew you, how she even knew he streamed, but none of that mattered to him as his dick throbbed at the mention of your name. Yes, you were the right person to stimulate him this way. But not like this. 

“I– I don’t want to,” you said.  

“I thought you liked him, Y/N. Don’t you want to ride his dick? He seems to want you to. What? Are you too vanilla or something?” 

You squirmed under Soon Yi’s insult, the eyes of the room flashing toward you. Seokjin moved to shove himself forward but then saw that Soon Yi had taped his wrists to the chair when he wasn’t looking. 

Goddamn it. How had she done that? 

You shake your head again, tears falling from your eyes. He wanted to go to you. To remind you that you didn’t want to do anything you didn’t want to. That you could leave at any time. But you didn’t. And he couldn’t. 

“That’s not why,” you insisted. 

Soon Yi smiled. “Tell me,” she practically purred. 

“It’s because he’s…well…” 

“What?” Soon Yi said. “He’s a gay porn star?”

You nodded, your eyes falling to the floor. 

Seokjin’s heart sank. 

“You didn’t even have the decency to tell her, huh? God, you really are such a selfish asshole. Now Y/N knows the truth. And she’s never going to love you. Look at yourself. You made your choice a long time ago. Now, now you have to live with the consequences.”

Seokjin gasped as he pulled himself from his nightmare. Part of him knew he was dreaming. But that wasn’t enough to wake him up. As he sat up and steadied his heartbeat, he took in his surroundings. A beat-up old dresser was across from him, littered with picture frames and knick-knacks that didn’t belong to him. 

Because he was still at your place. It was probably after noon, though he still didn’t have a phone and you didn’t have a clock in this room. 

As he glanced around, he noticed you were still asleep next to him, your hair fanned out across the pillow, arms resting above your head, and the shirt you put on early this morning as you ventured into the city lights to get ramyeon from the convenience store down the block was now bunched up over your breasts, exposing your nipples to Seokjin.

He felt his cock stir, despite the confusing and awful nightmare he’d had. 

With all his recent stress and lack of sleep, he shouldn’t have been surprised everything would all coalesce into one giant messy dream. He was surprised that Soon Yi was there, though. He really rarely thought of her these days, though it seemed his subconscious wanted to send her as a messenger of shame. 

The feeling stewed in his stomach, dousing him in a cool sweat as he processed the dream alongside last night. 

Was he too needy and desperate? Did he rush things too soon? What if you found out that he did stream? Would that make you feel like he was choosing that over you? Or that it exposed you too much, especially when you’d just shyly admitted the night before that you hadn’t ventured into kink but was interested? 

Was streaming cheating? That was something that he couldn’t wrap his mind around. He’d never considered that you might find that to be something as such. How would he make you understand that this wasn’t the same thing, that what he wanted to build with you wouldn’t be exposed online, wouldn’t be cheating because what he felt for you wasn’t what he said he felt toward his viewers. 

But how would you know that? 

Anxiety began to flare up, and he found himself trying to solve this puzzle in various segments, trying to understand and imagine every possible outcome. Either he told you and you were okay with it, or you weren’t. And if he did tell you and you weren’t okay, he didn’t know if you would be willing to give him enough time to explain himself or make you understand.

But if you found out on your own, or through someone else, he knew that would be the end of things before they even began. But what if he told you and you assumed he was just some shitty guy who used sex as a way to make money and power? 

He didn’t even know how he would feel if the roles were reversed. Or rather, he did. Because Seokjin knew that if you were streaming yourself on the internet, a part of him would be insanely jealous. He already felt a twinge of it just from the times he read your chats. But you naked was something else. And while he knew he would respect your decision to do so, he would never feel like he could be fully close to you. 

Just like Soon Yi said in his dream. 

Fuck, he needed to figure this out. 

“What are you thinking about?” Your soft voice broke through his reverie, and he remembered again that you were in front of him, alive, and real. 

And naked. 

He looked down. You had pulled the covers up over your breasts, to his disappointment. Your brow was furrowed, your left pointer finger softly skimming over his side. 

“Oh, a nightmare I had. And other things,” he relaxed back into the bed, rolling over onto his side facing you, using his hand to prop up his head. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Your eyes were sparkling, your voice so gentle it felt like water washing over the scalding parts of his brain, soothing him. 

“No, it’s okay. It was just a dream.” He looked back at you, noticing that your concerned expression didn’t fade. 

He sighed. “I guess I’m feeling a little…overwhelmed from everything.” 

You froze. “Oh.”

He could see your expression changing, the walls he had finally broken through starting to slide back into place, and he realized how awful what he’d just said probably sounded. 

“Not about you, it’s my own shit I swear I–”

“Are you having regrets about last night?” Your voice sounded broken. You crossed your arms over your chest.

“No, no, jagi, not at all. I mean that I felt like…I don’t know. So much happening with work and stress of family stuff and it’s all starting to really get to me. And then there’s you…and you’re like this light among all the bullshit but god. I was a lot really fast with you. I said a lot of things that were maybe too soon, and I also didn’t really talk to you fully about the emotional side of how I feel for you. My body, uh, I feel like that part took over before I could express that to you.” 

He knew he had to at least address this part, and had to absolve that part of him, his dream where sex and power seemed to really want to play their hand over him. Something he never wanted to happen to you. 

“I know that you care about me,” you assured him. “And I know that yes, we kind of immediately dove into some different roles, sharing really personal fantasies. But I don’t think that’s bad, do you?”

Your voice strained a bit at the end, and Seokjin realized that you were also just as anxious that something happened beyond what either of you communicated to each other in the moments after. 

He shook his head. “No, I don’t think that’s bad. But I want you to know that this isn't’ just sex for me. That I’m not going to just walk away or use you to get off. And I-I don’t want you to think that I’m using you.” 

You sighed, sitting up. You pulled his hand into your lap. “I don’t think you used me for sex, Seokjin. I’m not embarrassed by it or feel like you disrespected me. I feel more flattered. I guess that you played up those dynamics more with me because you knew they made me feel good. You know they made me feel good, right? I didn’t, like, not express how good it felt did I?” 

He smiled. “No, no I knew. And you’re right. I guess I felt like I could have been more smooth, amped this up more. I know you felt like we did things out of order because of the fact that we had sex before going on a date, but I feel like I made things out of order by being less romantic and more…”

“Perverted?” you finished, a smirk flying to your lips as you processed Seokjn’s bashful look, his cheeks turning red. 

“Yeah, I guess that’s the word for it,” he smiled back despite himself. Relief set in as he realized you were okay with it. Okay with the pace being set. He wasn’t taking advantage of you. And you knew that. 

You snorted. “I may have slipped some of my dirtiness out yesterday, and maybe you beat me to it faster, but I think you’ll learn soon I’m way more perverted than you.” 

His eyebrows rose. “Oh?”

You laughed. “Yes. I read!” 

“Oh, that’s right. Most of the books on your shelf are quite suggestive, aren’t they?” He began to drag his hand along your covered thigh, then hesitated. He didn’t want to just move toward sex. Why was it so hard for him to keep himself under control?

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, throwing Seokjin off. 

“Huh?” 

“Your nightmare you had. You were saying no a lot in your sleep. I figured that’s why you’ve been a bit off this morning. You didn’t sleep very peacefully.” 

He was off? How?

“I’m not…I wasn’t…” No excuse came. 

“We don’t have to talk about it,” you said softly. But Seokjin knew. He could feel the silence wedging between you. The distance started to leave a bitter taste in his mouth over what happened last night. 

“Soon Yi was in it,” he said uneasily, not knowing where to start.  

You sat quietly, though he saw you tense at the name. 

“She was telling me lots of stuff. I was failing with the restaurant, and I was failing with you. And she wanted me to make sure I knew it.” 

You pursed your lips for a moment and nodded, then wiggled back under the covers, scooting your head across the pillow to lie just under Seokjin’s bent elbow. He watched you closely, trying to detect what kind of reaction you were giving from this. 

“Can I ask you something?” you asked after a moment. 

He hummed, flicking his gaze down to you. He felt one of your legs curl across his as you pulled yourself closer. Your breasts dragged against his stomach. His free hand found itself in your hair, stroking it away from your face at your temple. 

“When you…when you dream of her, do you miss her?” 

His gut twinged, something in him stirring at that question. He’d often asked himself the same one over the years, trying to figure out what the feeling really was. But this time, as Seokjin craned his neck down to see you worry your lip between your teeth, he finally had the words. 

As he leaned down to peck a kiss onto your forehead, he sighed. “No, I don’t anymore. I think sometimes I feel maybe nostalgic for a time where I was known the way she knew me, but I don’t miss her. If I did, I don’t think I would have been so attracted to you, so drawn to you that my thoughts are clouded with you every day.” 

“Okay. It’s not that I wanted to assume it. I just didn’t know. I don’t know how serious this breakup was. I mean, I guess I assumed it had to be serious because she was your fiancé but…” Your hand found a way out of the covers and up to his cheek, gently rolling your thumb against the stubble of his jaw. A soft smile bloomed across your face. “When you talked about her before, you almost did like there was no emotion behind it.” 

“What do you mean? Like I didn’t care about her?”

“Not really like that,” you said. “More like you didn’t want me to know you cared about her. Like it was a story to move on from and not something you actually lived.” 

His heart wrenched at the call-out, and Seokjin began to feel his cheeks burn. “I-I’m sorry.” 

Your eyes widened and you shook your head vigorously. ��No, no, don’t apologize for that. Seokjin. I’m weirdly relieved to see that you do feel things about her. I don’t expect you to not feel anything.” 

“I just…I care about you. And in my dream, you listened to what she said about me and it changed your mind.” 

“Well, what did she say? What is it that would change my mind about you? Because I don’t think it probably is as bad as you seem to believe.” 

His throat welled. This was the moment. He could tell you. He could be honest and would know you wouldn’t walk away. Or that if you did, it would be before he got too attached to you. Seokjin could live with the results of you deciding his lifestyle was too much. He could seal away his feelings, and once his parents returned in a month or so, he could move on with his life and find a new job where you wouldn’t haunt every thought he had.

He swallowed, mouth dry as his heart began hammering against his chest.

“Sh-she said that you would never love me. That no one ever would.” His breathing was slightly ragged, voice shaking a bit. He felt like he’d drunk too much caffeine on an empty stomach, the dizzying haze of fear rooting itself in his core. 

To think it was one thing. To say the fear out loud, in the quiet of the early afternoon light, was another. 

Your hand stilled on his face, and you turned his head so his gaze met yours. Seokjin couldn’t help it as he felt you pull closer to him. He felt the tears spring up into his eyes.

“Do you believe that? That you’re so unlovable?” 

Did he? He didn’t know. Perhaps it was less that Seokjin believed he was unlovable and more that he didn’t deserve your love. Especially with how gentle and pure and good you were. How tainted he was. 

He didn’t answer, but that was enough of one for you. Enough for you to pull yourself up, the covers falling away from your body, your breasts swaying as you hoisted yourself on top of him, straddling his stomach with your naked thighs. 

You moved his hands to your hips, bowing your head so it hovered just above his. Your warm voice found his ear as you leaned closer. 

“I’ll tell you a little secret,” you whispered. Chills formed across his body as your breath tickled his neck. “You’re just as lovable as everybody else, Seokjin. No matter what you’ve been told. By anyone.” He felt your lips brush against his neck. 

His breath heaved once, and then he felt a few beads rolling down his cheeks as you pecked small kisses onto him.

“I’ve wanted you for a long time.” 

How? How could this be real? Any of this be real? Was he drifting through a different kind of dream now? In his life, Seokjin couldn’t imagine being told this so honestly. And furthermore, the lump in his throat was still there because while he was hearing you admit you felt something for him, wouldn’t that change the second he informed you of the other half of the dream? 

The reasoning behind no one ever loving him?

“I’m so scared, Seokjin.” Your shaking voice pulled him from his thoughts, and his eyes flashed to yours as you pulled away. 

He wasn’t the only one with tears in his eyes. You, too, had some brimming your eyelashes, the shine of wetness almost ethereal. 

“I’m absolutely fucking terrified.” He could see the sincerity; the anxiety and fear stirred beneath the intensity of your stare. He imagined his eyes were reflecting the same thing. “And you want to know why?” 

He did. He nodded.

“Because I’m worried I will fuck this up somehow. Or that the past will repeat itself. That you’ll disappear one day and it’ll be like I dreamt all this. I don’t know if I can take it if I wake up and find you gone without a trace, as if I never existed to you. It’s happened before.” Your voice shook as a few tears fell down your face. 

Seokjin’s eyes widened. “What?”

Your eyes flicked away from him and you laughed lightly as you wiped the tears from your face. “God, I don’t even know why I’m crying. This is so stupid.” 

“No, no back up. What happened?” He wasn’t going to let you change the subject. Not about this. Not when you two were being honest and communicating clearly. Not when despite being inside of you last night, he had never felt so close to you as he did in this moment. 

“You’re not the only one with a past. You know that, right?”

A flood of embarrassment washed over him, souring his stomach. Because truthfully, he hadn’t really considered how much of your past had led you to being there on top of him. 

“Y/N, I–”

“No, no, I don’t mean it that way. I meant it more that you aren’t the only one who is scared because of the past. I wasn’t engaged before. I thought I would be, though, at one point. But looking back, I don’t think Do Woon and I even knew each other, and I was more thinking about the idea of getting married as something I had to do more than I wanted to. Not to say I don’t want to get married but–”. You cut yourself off, your words sharp and quick as if a rain of thoughts had all come down at once. 

Seokjin took a deep breath, steadying himself under you as he asked. “Do you…do you want to start from the beginning?” 

You chuckled, lacing your fingers into his. “I wanted to say that I have been with someone. And it was getting serious, or it was for me. And then one day, poof, he just ghosted me. Blocked my number when he was supposed to come to my dad’s birthday party. It was a whole mess.” 

Seokjin stroked his thumb over the back of your hand. “It sounds like a mess. And that guy was an absolute asshole.” He tried to ignore the pit of guilt in his stomach as he realized he had also been considering disappearing a few moments ago. Granted, that was under the assumption that you weren’t interested in him, or that if you found out you would change your mind. 

Fuck. Just tell her. 

He didn’t know when he would be able to insert this information. Definitely not as he spoke next. 

“Why don’t you tell me about them. As much or as little as you want to share.” 

And that was all it really took, you being granted permission to unstopper the bottle of your past and some of the outer laying details that Seokjin never could make sense of. You told him about Do Woon, explaining that he, along with some other guy who shall not be named, were your two main relationships you’d had in your adult life, and both of them left some part of you feeling shattered and vulnerable, despite how short those relationships were. Only a few months of your life. Not even enough to establish them officially as your boyfriend, or at least that was something he’d never referred to himself as while dating you. 

At some point you pulled yourself off of Seokjin, settling back into the plush comforter on your bed. And despite his best efforts to not look for a clock to mark what time it was, he found himself scanning your room for one, only to realize whatever time it was really didn’t matter. 

Not when you were being so open after a time of being so closed off. 

“I feel…inexperienced compared to you. Almost like I’m some sixteen year old kid doing this all for the first time.” 

Your apartment was quiet. There were clearly sounds of the old building creaking as neighbors around you occasionally left or arrived with a slam of a door. But all that life outside, Seokjin thought, it resembled something mechanical and impersonal, far from the life he was experiencing with you. 

“You know, it’s funny. You’re saying I have all this experience, but I don’t.” 

“But you do. You’ve taken someone on dates before, probably bought her flowers and birthday presents. You clearly know how to have sex and do it well. You cook for people, you’ve lived this exceptional career, and are known by a ton of people. You just exist so maturely and fully in a way that I don’t feel like I do. In a way that means something officially through a relationship. I feel like I’m watching you like a kid observing a teacher to know how to write the alphabet, and it’s kind of embarrassing.” 

Seokjin watched as you shifted uneasily, pulling your arm across your chest as you became guarded once more, on edge and awaiting his response. 

“None of that even means anything, Y/N. I don’t have experience in all this stuff, not with you. I don’t know what I’m doing, what I could say that might offend you. And I’m not sure what career you’re referring to because I’m just some nepo baby but much lower in class. Hard work didn’t give me this job; being the son of the owners did.

“And as far as existing in a way that is mature, what makes me qualified to be considered as such? I play video games in my apartment by myself, I don’t have complex problems with school and finances and balancing a future career to contend with the way you do. Now, that’s maturity.” 

Seokjin reached forward, tugging you into his embrace. 

Into your ear, he whispered. “You’re right about one thing, though. I do know how to have really good sex.” 

You snorted, your shoulders relaxing as you nuzzled into him. “Yes, I’m aware. I was there.”

“Which means you know that it takes two people at least to have sex. And that means the sex wasn’t just good because of me. But you, too. Like, really, really good.” 

You laughed lightly. “Okay, fine. But I still feel like a beginner.” 

“I do too. And before you argue with me again about this. I’m learning you, just like you’re learning me. What demons we carry, what flaws we have. What hot little kinks lurk in your closet that I cannot wait for you to inform me of. How you like your eggs in the morning, what songs you’ll sing in the shower. Mine is ‘Loner’ by Outsider, by the way.” 

Your laugh built, your body shaking against his. He smiled despite the fact that you couldn’t see him. 

“This is new. We’re new. We are both beginners in the process of hopefully becoming experts in each other.”

You released a puff of air from your chest, angling yourself to look at him. 

“I like that. I want to be an expert in you, I think.” 

He cocked an eyebrow. “You think?”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine, I know. I want to be an expert in you. Period.” 

“Good, because I plan on becoming an expert in you.” 

“Okay then…so first of all, I like scrambled eggs. But not the gummy rubbery crap. Soft scramble, low and slow. With toast and pats of butter.” 

“Low and slow, got it.” Seokjin said. He gazed down at you, your sleep-tangled hair falling cutely into your face as you described your favorite breakfast and how to make it. Ideally with lower heat, the curds of the eggs softly mixed and cooked into the butter to be uniform throughout. He filed the recipe away, but more specifically how you said it, how your lips curved around every word as you enthusiastically rambled on, ranking your favorite to least favorite egg varieties. 

He stroked the hair out of your face with one arm, his other tracing the curves of your bare back. 

“And then, hmm song I’ll sing in the shower.” You drifted off, your breath coming more ragged in your chest as his hand traced the outer lines of your hip and thighs. Seokjin felt you adjust yourself, the heat of your lower body escaping as you opened your thighs wider. 

“It’s a very important answer,” he said casually, his eyes becoming more hooded as he watched your arousal starting to grow, your body attempting to make subtle attempts to cover up what Seokjin knew was already there. 

“Mmm,” you responded weakly. Your own hands were exploring now under the covers, grazing Seokjin’s defined chest and abs, and resting just under the hair that trailed his belly button. Millimeters away from his stiffening cock. 

His left hand found its way away from your head, fingers running down the length of your neck and shoulders, and finally to your plump breasts. 

You gasped out a moan when he plucked a nipple between two of his fingers, a devilish smile splayed across his face when your eyes flew open to look at him. 

“Shit,” you rasped, and Seokjin chuckled, amused by how your building arousal made you all the more sensitive. 

Your hand closed over his cock unexpectedly, eliciting a groan from him as you began firmly stroking him in your hands. 

He took that as a cue, letting his right hand finally push your thighs more apart. He ran his fingers through you, pulling them away and placing them between the two of you. 

His tongue poked out as he tasted you on his fingers, relishing how your mouth fell slightly open as you intently watched his tongue loop over every ridge of his pointer finger. You shifted again. 

“Mmm, you taste good. Have you tasted yourself before?” he asked, and your eyes widened before you did a short, embarrassed nod. 

“So curious.” He lapped at his other finger, spending less time cleaning it. “I think you might like your taste even better now.” 

“How?” Your voice was soft, still enamored by his ministrations.  

Seokjin grinned, leaning forward to tilt your head up to him to kiss you. The kiss was hard, a pull of dominance overtaking him as he forced your mouth open with his, his tongue tangling into yours, giving you a shared taste of your arousal and him. 

You moaned, and as he dipped back down to your hot core with his fingers, you leaned in harder to the kiss, wrapping your arm around his neck to keep him close to you as you sucked his plump bottom lip into your mouth. Your other hand stilled on his cock, holding it but loosening in your grasp as you remained distracted by him. You shuddered into his mouth as he stroked your swollen clit with his thumb, pushing your pelvis up so he could get the right angle. 

“That’s a good girl, Y/N, spread your legs for me so I can fuck you open with my fingers.” 

As he slid one in with ease, then the second, he could feel you clench around him, causing his cock to to throb as he imagined it in place of his fingers. 

You ground into his hand, still chasing his mouth with yours. Your hand brushed up and down his length again before abandoning its mission, instead using your hand to push away from the kiss. You pouted at him as he built a rhythm with his fingers, pulling slowly in and out and occasionally scissoring his fingers open to ensure you were ready for him. 

“So greedy,” he chuckled. 

“I need you,” you whined, and your arm left his neck to the hand thrusting into you. You put your hand over his, commanding it to deliver sharper, heavier thrusts into your drenched pussy. 

“I can see that,” he teased, following your set rhythm for the moment. As he watched you writhe below him, he couldn’t help but look at every curve of you, trying to burn this memory into him forever. 

The room fell quiet, the only sounds being your little moans and the wet sounds of his fingers thrusting in and out of you. He felt your hand take hold of his cock again, and he glanced down to see your small fingers laced around its thickness. 

God, it was perfect. 

“You’re so hard,” you remarked, pumping him to the same speed he was working his fingers. 

His eyebrow cocked. You were teasing him, trading out your nervousness for a sexy, confident self who was only working him up further. More precum dribbled from the head of his cock as you worked him in your fist, pumping up and down roughly, perfectly. 

He didn’t know how you knew he liked harder, rougher handjobs. Or that his heavy sack was so deliciously sensitive that your mouth on it last night almost had him cumming immediately. Either way, he was thoroughly enjoying how you were panting a little as he continued to thrust in and out of you while you tried to focus, your breasts bouncing along with your strokes. 

God, he needed to pace himself or he would cum all over you without warning. The image of that idea alone had his hips buck forward into your grasp and he imagined you painted so sinfully with his white cum dripping down your face, your chest—

Fuck. His balls drew up with the ache of his thrust into your hands, threatening to spill. No. No he didn’t want this to be how it ended. 

In all this, you were on the edge, but he could tell the angle just wasn’t right. 

Seokjin pulled his fingers from you, a pathetically cute “no, please” leaving your lips as you closed your legs around his hand, grinding onto him to try and get yourself off. 

But Seokjin had a better idea. Instead, he pulled away, flipping the comforter off of you. He  searched along the floor until he found what he was looking for. 

Your abandoned vibrator was on top of some dirty laundry. He picked it up, holding it in front of you. 

“It’s dirty,” you said. “I used it last night before–“ 

You froze, looking away from Seokjin and down at a spot on the floor. 

“Before what?” He asked. 

“Before, um…” 

God you were so cute when you were being shy. 

“Were you using this right before I got here?” 

Your eyes widened and you nodded, still avoiding eye contact. 

“What were you masturbating to, princess? I’m sorry I interrupted you. Did you get to cum?” 

You shook your head and then looked back up at Seokjin. “I mean technically yes but not while I was masturbating. You made me cum later.” 

“Oh, baby. Then I owe you an orgasm, then, don’t I? Poor thing had to wait so long to cum. You were probably so worked up and wet and tense.” 

He could see the effect his words had on you, the playful, almost bratty facade melting into a more submissive, soft haze. Your eyes were locked on his, gaze burning hot. 

“I-I was,” you agreed softly. 

Seokjin clicked his tongue. “Tsk, I’ll make it up to you. But first, tell me what got you so worked up.” 

You groaned, your hands flying to your face as you hid behind them. 

“I can’t.” 

“And why is that?” 

“It’s too embarrassing.” 

“Is it? There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Y/N. I don’t care who you were masturbating to, I know that doesn’t mean anything. But it’s healthy. It’s about your relationship to yourself.” 

“You,” you replied quickly. You didn’t remove your hands from your face, muffling the sound. 

“Me?” Seokjin replied, a wide grin spreading to his face. He liked the sound of that. 

“Yes. Don’t let it go to your head.” 

But he couldn’t help himself. Seokjin was delighted, warmth spreading throughout his body as he imagined you on this very bed naked, sighing and moaning and twitching around your toy. It was a perfect view, one he wanted to see in real time so he could memorize it just as it happened. 

“What were you thinking about that had you soaking wet for me when I arrived? What was I doing? Was it your kinky fantasy you told me about?” 

Your hands fell from your face as you smacked his thigh with your hands. “Shut up! You’re letting it go to your head. It’s none of your business what I was fantasizing about and now you’re kink shaming me!” 

Seokjin laughed, carding his hand through his hair. 

“Kink shaming you? Did you not see how turned on I was by the idea of you having a little exhibitionist streak?” 

“Okay, well fine! You tell me what one of your fantasies is so it’s fair.” 

Seokjin smirked. He was used to this kind of talk. He wouldn’t back down from a challenge. 

“Hmm, which one do you want to know more about? The one where I have you tied up like a pretty little present for me, rope threaded around your soft arms and stomach, being held open for me? Or, maybe the one where you’re blindfolded, unable to see anything but feel everything.”

Your lips pop open, eyes flashing with something dark that Seokjin can tell has sent your mind into overdrive. Oh, you like that just as much as him. 

“Is that what you want, princess? For me to make you feel everything while I fuck you blindfolded?” 

You squirm under him, but surprisingly, you shake your head. “Not now. Maybe later. Right now I want to see you. See everything you do to me.” 

“I can definitely do that.” 

Seokjin reached over to your bedside table, cocking his head toward the drawer. “Is this where your toys live?” he asked. 

“Yes, but…”

“But?”

“Just…don’t judge me.” 

“Never,” Seokjin assured, and he opened the drawer. 

You didn’t have many toys, but just from the fact that you had more than one told Seokjin that you were just as curious as he was. 

He sifted through the drawer, moving anal beads, a bullet vibrator, a rabbit vibrator, and a long blue dildo out of the way. He found the case to the purple clitoral vibrator he now knew you used to get yourself off last night and slipped it in. 

Then he saw what he was looking for. Of course you would have one.

Seokjin pulled the c-shaped vibrator out of its case, your eyes widening as you saw it in his palm. 

“Fuck,” you said. “That one is…really intense.” 

“Oh?” he teased, crawling across the bed and over you once more. “How so?”

“Um, I usually cum really fast with that one. Almost too fast. And hard.”

“That sounds like the opposite of a problem to me.”

You laughed, relaxing back into your pillows. “I mean that I kind of struggle with it.” 

“Do you not want me to use this on you?” 

“You can, it’s just that I like the way it feels when you touch me. I can use toys any time. That feeling is the same.”

“Princess, I guarantee that it won’t feel the same. Not when I’m the one holding the remote and deciding what angle and where.”

You shrugged, gesturing down to your parted legs. “Fine, then go for it.” 

“Oh, I will. And don’t you forget that you still owe me an answer to my question. I want to know what I was doing in your little fantasy that got you so worked up you made a mess on one of your toys.”

“God, are you going to fuck me already or am I going to have to do it myse-”

A firm slap landed on your thigh and you cried out. 

“Hey! That hurt!” 

“Yes, it’s supposed to. You’re being a brat. And I don’t appreciate it.”

You rolled your eyes, and for a moment Seokjin thought to delve out another slap to your other thigh. But he was also getting impatient. His cock felt angry and hard as it strained against his stomach. He needed to get his mind off of it. 

So instead he tapped your thighs, this time softer, signaling you to spread further to expose your glistening core. You were still so wet, and as he pushed the toy into you, a squelch rang out into the room as you sucked it right in. 

It might have been the hottest thing Seokjin had ever seen in his life. 

“How’s that feel?” he asked gently, enamored with the sight of you below him. 

“Mmm, good,” you replied, a slight breathiness in your voice. A happy, drunk smile spread across your lips.

He felt himself mirror you, probably some stupid, dopey grin slapped across his own face. But you were like a goddess, your hair splayed onto the pillow under your head, arms bent at the elbow and resting near your face. 

“So beautiful,” he whispered. God, he could look at you like this forever. A tight warmth surged into his chest, and he bent forward to kiss your forehead. “So good for me.”

You didn’t get a chance to protest as the vibrator came to life, dual controls vibrating both the curved shaft that was snuggly wrapped around your pelvic bone and the clitoral attachment. 

You jolted, your back immediately arching as you responded to the sensation. 

“Fuck, Seokjin.” 

“Mm, I believe I’m the one fucking you,” he joked, chuckling to himself. 

“Oh my god shut up it’s not funny oh, fuck–”

Your eyes shut tightly as you clenched around the vibrator, its low buzz sounding louder in the room as Seokjin rested it up against you.

“I thought you wanted to see everything I do to you.” 

Your eyes shot open and looked up at him. “I do, but god this is so intense.” 

“Well, let me provide a solution to that,” Seokjin responded, and then he pulled away, leaving the vibrator to rest inside of you for a minute. He’d gotten this idea only a few minutes ago, but just in his general state of wonder at your apartment, he knew that you had a floor mirror peeking out from the corner of the room. 

You whined as he stood across your room, hips bucking as the wet sounds of the clitoral vibrator created small suction noises that alerted Seokjin of just how wet you were. 

He turned back to you, climbing back atop the bed and sliding his hands underneath your bottom, pulling you up into his arms. 

You gasped, though he wasn’t sure if it was because the toy had hit a particular sensitive spot, or you weren’t expecting him to carry your weight. But none of that mattered right now. Instead, he was transfixed by the way you were watching yourself as you both stood in front of the mirror, Seokjin positioning you with your legs spread and hips angled toward the mirror, propping yourself up by leaning your back against his chest. 

“Here you go princess,” he cooed. “Now you can see everything.” 

You shuddered, as if his words sent a chill down your spine. He grinned, taking one of your hands and guiding it down to the vibrator, nudging it further into you. 

You began to take over, but he tightened his grasp on your hand, shaking his head. 

“Then why–”

“So when you use it alone next time, you’ll have no choice but to think of me, my hands making you tremble, making you drip down your legs.” 

You moaned, low in your throat, closing your eyes as he upped the intensity through the remote. A heavy, wet gasp shuddered through your chest, your other hand that wasn’t positioned on your vibrator finding Seokjin’s hand and squeezing it. 

“Is this angle better? Or is it still too much?” 

“It’s good. It’s really good.”

“Then keep your eyes open, princess,” he ordered. “Look how beautiful you are as you cum.” 

After a moment of hesitation, you obliged, opening your eyes again and staring directly at him in the mirror. 

“Close,” you said, your legs quivering. You leaned into his chest harder for support. 

“I know,” he replied. Seokjin was drunk on the tiny whimpers exiting your mouth, how you wriggled against him during moments of more intense sensation. How could he ever want anything more from the world when he had this moment, the bright afternoon light cascading over your bodies through the window, the sheen of sweat coating your skin looking like diamonds. Your eyes were bright and hungry, chasing your end with the determination that he always admired in you. 

It was the same hunger you had for knowledge, those days at the restaurant when he would pull you out of your textbooks and notetaking because you failed to hear the chime of the door alerting you to the fact that customers had arrived. You would always look at him with a daze, but like you were craving to delve back in, to learn the next part about family structures and psychology of developing minds.  

This time though, that hunger was fixated on your orgasm, on Seokjin, how you untangled your hand from his to reach behind you and grab his cock, pulling it through your legs so you could grind down on it, your hips jutting against him as he slid between your damp thighs and against the toy. You smirked darkly, satisfied that he would play this game with you, and would follow your lead with the rocking of his hips. 

He loved that you were challenging him. He was quickly learning that you desired–no, required– the reminder that you were truly the one in control, even if you were submissive. You were setting the parameters of the boundaries, the cat and mouse games weaving in and out so you could explore how far you wanted to go, where the lines you wouldn’t cross were. 

It was a lot more intuitive than Seokjin would have thought, how he could recognize your hesitation in some moments and provide reassurance through a question, or recognize what situations of you grabbing his hand were a hard stop, and what other times were meaning you were so overcome with pleasure that you needed something to hold onto. 

He was happy to do this, so happy and lucky and bewildered that this was real, that you were real. He needed to steady himself, and so he took your hand in his once more, reveling in the warmth of your softness. 

He pulled the hand to his mouth, kissing it. Your eyes were glassy, a soft smile blooming as you embraced the tender gesture.

You ground down harder, your movements becoming sloppier as you heaved another breath in your chest. 

“Close,” you said again. This time with more urgency. Your brows furrowed, your thighs snapping together, and then your orgasm rocked through you, heavy delicious shakes spiraling out from you, clamping down on the toy and also his cock between your legs, a rush of dampness spilling out from you. . 

“Please, please, please, please,” you begged, still shaking, still in the midst of intensity, though Seokjin didn’t know what you were begging for. His brain was fuzzy as he watched you cresting with pleasure. Did you want him to turn off the toy? As he moved your hands on the vibrator toward the off button you shook again, adding a shake of your head. 

“No, no. More, Jinnie, please more.” He was a bit shocked by the way you were whining so desperately for him, but it encouraged him to move your hands toward the other buttons that turned up the settings. 

With a sharper, higher buzz, he watched in awe as you coasted from one orgasm to the next, thighs shaking so hard your knees were failing, and he had to curl his hand around your waist to ensure you didn’t fall to the ground. 

“Yes,” you sighed, the word repeated over and over and over like a spell. You looked directly at him as you moaned, like you were championing him through this orgasm, your eyes melting into a thicker, warmer gaze as you ground harder against him and the toy. 

“Fuck, Y/N.” He didn’t know what to say. He just watched you have two earth-shattering orgasms on top of him, against him, and you were asking for more. He settled on words that barely touched the surface, but would do for the moment. “You’re incredible.”

As you pushed further toward the edge, you looked at your body, and before you could even begin to think, he was kissing your neck, whispering in between kisses. 

He took your laced hands, trailing your fingers over your thigh. 

“Gorgeous. Look at yourself. So soft and sweet and wet. You can do it, baby, let yourself go.”

And somehow, though he was ready to deliver you a string of other encouragement, you broke, a throaty, clipped yelp carrying across the room as you came. 

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you heaved, your eyes shining wet with tears that leaked out of you. You laughed lightly, euphoric and almost giddy as your legs wobbled. He noticed you began to tilt more toward the floor, and quickly Seokjin threw his arms around you before you fell,  hoisting  you up against him, kissing your temple and cheek. He reached down and turned off the vibrator, your hips still bucking in the after shock. 

“That’s my good girl.”

“Shit.”

You both stood in the quiet, still in front of the mirror. You were panting, eyes locked on him. A smile crept up your face, and Seokjin felt full suddenly, like he was feasting on his adoration for you as it grew by the minute. He was grinning back, his cheeks hurting from how much he’d been doing that all day. 

After a moment, he pulled the vibrator out of you. You winced at the sensitivity, but there were still stars in your eyes as you basked in the afterglow. Your eyes followed the threads of arousal clinging to you and the toy, its silicone shiny and slick as Seokjin took it into his hand and tossed it on the bed. 

He studied you carefully, watching intently to gauge your mood in case you crashed. But you were glowing and sighing happily against him, ready to tug your tangled fingers from his. 

But Seokjin had other ideas. He took your joined hands, drawing small circles on your thighs. 

“But, you’re still hard,” you said in protest. 

He was. Painfully so. He’d gotten so close to cumming when you writhed against him, but it could wait. This couldn’t. 

“Yes, and I’ll still be hard in a few minutes,” he said. “But I’m not done with you, yet. It’s still your turn.” 

“I don’t think I can cum again so soon. I still feel the buzzing of the vibrator in my clit.” 

Seokjin chuckled fondly. “That’s okay, princess. That’s not exactly what I had in mind.”

“Then what-”

He shushed you, continuing the slow circles on your thighs. 

“I saw you starting to judge yourself back there,” he said softly. “Especially when you were about to cum. And I just want to say I see you, I witness you and all that you are. I see you so fully and I only hope one day you will see you how I see you. Your strong thighs that carry you from class to work and home every day.” 

He moved your hands up to your stomach. “Your stomach, which is a stomach. Muscles and organs and skin and, sure, fat. All those things nourishing your body, protecting you like armor. Softness, too.” He kissed your neck again, this time sucking in slightly. Just enough to bloom a hickey. 

He cocked an eyebrow when you moaned, clearly not opposed. 

“Definitely a fan of this part right here. But you know that,” he said, guiding your hands to your plump ass. He grabbed a handful of it, sighing. 

You giggled, the brightness in your eyes lively and playful as you hung on every word he said. 

“Love this part, this sweet, tight little pussy.” He ran a finger through you again, and you hissed when his knuckle brushed your clit. “Still a little too sensitive though. But truly, if I could, I’d live the remainder of my existence with you sitting on my face.” 

“Seokjin!” 

“It’s true!!! Beauty knows beauty. I would be honored if your beautiful pussy smothered my beautiful face.” 

“Oh my god,” you yanked at your hands, but he didn’t budge. 

“Okay, okay. I will stop talking about your tasty little pussy and how much I want to bury my nose in it, drown in it, worship it.” He moved his hands along your sides. “Strong hips, and the dip right here? Absolute masterpiece. The ancient Greeks would have fought each other to determine who got to carve those into marble.” 

You rolled your eyes but let him continue. 

When he arrived at your breasts, he cupped them with both hands, savoring the heaviness of them in his palms. “I have no words for these. Okay maybe a few. One time, you wore a lower cut shirt and just the suggestion of cleavage had me jacking off in the bathroom at work. I could not extinguish the boner that gave me. I was like a horny high school boy again. Honestly, I haven't had that happen since I was probably sixteen.” 

You both laughed, but you recovered as he moved inward, a little further up your chest. 

“There’s so much I love about you, Y/N. You’re compassionate and kind. The way you always go out of the way to help others in need. When you helped Yuna with the crates that fell over last week, spending longer cleaning them up than she did. Or how you are vulnerable with me when I haven’t even really been so with you.” 

You opened your mouth to protest but he squeezed your hand in warning. “Don’t even deny it baby. We both know it. But that’s not the point. Your heart is so pure, so effervescent. You find so much joy in things. I remember you telling me about the snow. How it made you feel the romance of the air. That’s something so beautiful, and I see it in you every day.”

You took a deep breath, and he smiled softly as you looked at your connected hands over your chest. 

“I could go on and on. Your ticklish neck. How your lips pout and your eyes are like moonbeams. How you work so hard to make a difference and find a way to get through it despite it all. How am I so lucky to hold you right now? You’re so real in my arms, but sometimes, I swear I’ve dreamed you.” 

“I’m real,” you said hoarsely. “This is real.” 

You also sounded like you couldn’t believe it, but as Seokjin released your hands, he turned your body toward him, placing his thumb on your bottom lip. 

“Yes. Yes, this is real.” 

Seokjin leaned down, tucking his hand behind your head and kissing you, just to prove that you both hadn’t imagined each other. 

After a long, distracting shower that started as a shower but ended with Seokjin’s cum on your chest, thus being the cause for another shower, you now are both clean, dressed, and hungry. 

“Hey,” Seokjin says, lightly pulling the comb he was using for his hair through the ends of yours. 

“Mmm?” You’re a bit sore and tired, your legs still feeling like noodles after the three orgasms he pulled out of you earlier, plus the intense sex you had last night. 

“Food,” he deadpans. 

“Ugh, can we order something? I don’t want to move.” 

“If we do that you know it’s going to just end up with me fucking you on the couch.” 

You turn around from your spot on the floor, Seokjin’s legs wide as he sits on the couch with you between them. You look at his crotch, noticing that while he’s not hard, his natural bulge still has your mouth watering at the idea of what’s hidden beneath his pants.

Seokjin clears his throat and you look up. He cocks his head. 

“No, I know, you’re right. Plus, we still need to get you a new phone.” 

At the mention of his phone, he tenses, the realization dawning on him. His eyes look down to your phone on the coffee table. “Fuck, I completely forgot. Shit, what time is it? Do we still have time?” 

You tap the screen of your phone, the bright light alerting you to the fact that while you have time, you don’t have much.

“God, I can’t believe I forgot to go do that. I’m sure there’s a thousand texts waiting for me from my mother and what if something happened to the restaurant and–” 

“Relax! It’s okay; let’s go now. There’s a store around the block from here. And then while we’re out maybe we can go get some dinner? I have been wanting to try this Italian place that has these viral garlic knots and oh my god you’re allergic to garlic nevermind.”

The words rush out of you in a puff of air. You begin to feel embarrassed for forgetting such a crucial allergy. 

“It’s not going to kill me,” he says, the warmth of his voice and depth of his brown eyes looking at you sending a shiver down your spine. “Thank you for remembering my allergy, though. Of course we can go get dinner. That sounds perfect.”

He cups your cheek in his hand, and you feel yourself melt into the touch. It’s almost as if he’s glued to you, finding excuses to tuck your hair behind your ear or place a kiss on your neck. Almost like he’s been starved for hundreds of years and now he’s finally getting his fill. 

You can’t say you blame him. Since last night, you too have been using any chance you can get to touch him, to feel his wholeness and realness under your fingertips. 

It’s not that you’re in denial any of this is happening. You know Seokjin is sitting behind you, his plump lips smacking as he takes one last bite of the rice you hurriedly threw into the rice cooker before your shower to satiate some of the ravenous hunger you had.

Little did you know, that your hunger is less for food and more for something else. But you think it’s important to set the tone with a more official date. Besides, successful dinners often mean successful post dinner drinks, post dinner kisses at your door and then in your kitchen and your bed. 

Your mind begins to wander to what happened merely forty five minutes ago in the shower. You had both decided to shower together; the idea of being separated and out of each other’s sight somehow wrenched some type of panic out of you that Seokjin quickly extinguished with a reassuring peck as he led you into the bathroom, turning on the faucet and gesturing for you to get in. 

He’d softened a bit from the very hard and very painful looking erection he’d sported earlier, but his cock had twitched right as you stepped under the water, and before long you found you couldn’t help yourself, bending down until it was level with your face. 

There was a deep satisfaction you got staring up at him as you’d taken him into your mouth, the spray of water from the shower head occasionally hitting over his shoulders to splatter droplets down his perfectly toned abs. He watched you so intently, his gaze scorching hot on your body when he glazed over it. When he came on your chest, you could see that there was still a glint of heat in his eyes, but he didn’t act on it. Instead, he washed himself off of you with your body wash and then wrapped you tightly in a towel. 

Your hand digs into the fabric of your shorts as you shake the memory away. The lingering heat in your core begins to stir anew. God. You have to leave the house. 

You gather up your things and idle in front of the door as Seokjin slowly saunters around, collecting his belongings that have been strewn across the apartment throughout the day, his eyes scanning the room one last time before he places his hand on your waist, dipping down to kiss you again.

“You could have left your stuff here for later, you know.” 

“Ah but if I don’t get it together I won’t ever leave. And after I get my phone and feed you, I know I’ll have work to do. So as much as I love the idea of staying, we both knowI need to leave at some point.” 

You feel a pang of disappointment in your chest but it ends when he wraps his arms around you, sealing you two back together. 

You let him part your lips with his, let his tongue slide into yours. Let him push you firmly against the door and kiss you harder with need, starving and addicted at the same time, like he can’t bring himself to stop. 

When he comes up for air, somehow you find the strength to push him away, his hair mussed from you digging your hands into it without noticing. You flip a few pieces of his hair back into place, smiling at him in response to his huge grin and flushed cheeks.

“We need to go,” you say. He groans. “Seokjin, you said so yourself that you need a new phone.” 

“I know, but I…I don’t know I feel like there’s this little universe we are in right now. It’s like when we walk out that door I’m not sure what’s going to happen. Is that weird?”

It isn’t. It’s the exact feeling you’ve been churning in your brain all morning. You nod and think for a moment before responding. 

“What if we make a promise like we did last winter? When we were on top of the mountain and we decided that for that moment we were one version of ourselves up there before we came back down here?” 

His brow furrowed. “So what would we be like out there? Is this version of us people we are leaving at the door?” Disappointment washed over his face. “But I like this version of us. I don’t want to keep this a secret.”

“That’s not what I meant. I mean, let’s take a minute then and decide who we want to be when we step into the hallway.”

He leans in, still trapping you against the closed door, his forearms resting on the wood above your head. 

“Okay,” he whispers. “I think I know who I want to be.” 

“Tell me.” 

“I want to be your boyfriend. I want to call you my girlfriend, take you out to eat. I want to buy you flowers on your happiest and saddest of days.” He studies your face, which you assume is surprised because his eyes flash wide and ears turn bright red. “I’m sorry, that’s inappropriate. We don’t have to label it.”

Your stomach tenses as he does, his body locked in place like a scared deer. 

“We can though,” you offer. “I can be your girlfriend when we walk outside of here. I want that. And I want…to be more confident and less insecure. To trust that my spiral of thoughts aren’t always real.” 

Seokjin smiles and slowly his body comes back to life, melting away the freeze as he steps back to take a deep breath. 

“Okay then. Let’s go exist in society.” 

A chuckle slips out of you as you register his annoyed tone. “Life is outside, not just in this room. And besides, I have no food in my fridge because I haven’t had the time to go shopping, and we keep putting off eating for other things.” 

“Other things,” he muses. “Cute.” 

You roll your eyes and open the door to the outside world. 

“Wait,” Seokjin says. You stop, your feet in the hallway while he remains in your apartment. 

“Yeah?”

He hesitates like he’s now regretting saying anything at all. He takes a deep breath and leans down. 

“There’s something I want to talk to you about. To tell you…”

You wait, trying not to alert him to how hungry you are as you silently beg your stomach not to betray you. A tiny squeak responds, but he doesn’t react. You know this is probably the moment, and you want to ensure you don’t do anything to make him feel like you’re judging him. It’s hard to keep your expression neutral, but you try. 

“I know that this has been a weird start. In a lot of ways during the last few months you’ve started sharing things with me more than I have been able to with you. And I…I can see how you’re trying to let me into your world. And I want to let you know that while it’s hard to get past myself sometimes, I’m trying. I want you to know me. All of me.” 

You nod, encouraging him to continue. 

“I just…there’s some things I’m not ready to talk about yet. I know that sounds sketchy and you have a right to feel like I’m being sneaky and deceiving you. I understand if you feel like I’m not trustworthy. But I have some stuff I’m figuring out that I will tell you about at some point, I promise. But if I can ask too much of you and more to say just be patient with me, please. I’ll figure out how to talk about it with you soon but right now I can’t and I’m sorry. Can you do that? Can you let us be like this for a while longer?” 

That is not what you expect him to say. He’s going to be withholding things from you. And while you’re relieved he’s saying so, how anxious it makes you to know that you currently stand on one side of the threshold, now as his girlfriend, as someone who is supposed to be confident and trusting. And you’re already slipping back into the usual. 

But you can’t help it, in a way. He hasn’t taken the literal step yet. He could change his mind at any point and tell you this isn’t what he wants. 

But you can tell that regardless of the insecurity, he does want this. He looks so nervous, so vulnerable and terrified. And you know what that feels like, how awful a place it is as you wait for an answer. So you don’t string it along for much longer. You bite your bottom lip and nod. 

“Okay,” you say. “We can be like this a while longer.” 

His shoulders relax and he finally steps across the threshold and into the hallway with you. Into a place that ensures nothing between you two will ever be the same. 

But you’re not alone out here. He takes your hand in his, bringing up to his mouth to kiss the knuckles. Your boyfriend leads you down the stairs to the street. 

“I can’t believe I’ve been without my phone for this long,” Seokjin says as you walk in an easy stride together toward the phone store. “I must have so many messages in my voicemail.” 

Your stomach drops, a bitter cold and tingly feeling working its way down your spine and up through your chest as you remember part of last night. The part where you met his friend Jungkook after calling him out and telling him you knew he was a sex warm worker in the middle of a restaurant. Over voicemail. 

That message is sitting there, after you just agreed you will let him tell you in his own time. Your pace slows as your mind races, trying to think of some type of way to distract Seokjin long enough to prevent him from checking his messages until later. Maybe you can delete the message before he hears it?

He notices the slow down, turning his head toward you as you both shuffle across the sidewalk. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah,” you reply, your voice sounding thin and higher pitched, something unlike your normal voice. He frowns.

“It’s nothing,” you lie. “Just the adjustment to being around strangers again after being in our own universe instead of the real world.” 

He hums in thought. “Yeah, I guess I wasn’t ready for the whole sea of people to be out and about at this time of day.” 

You relax a little for the remainder of the walk, until you arrive at the phone store. 

Then your heart pounds violently, so hard that you can feel in your ears.

Seokjin waltzes over to the counter, telling the employee exactly what he wants and how he lost his phone in the first place. 

“That’s the third one this week I’ve heard that exact story about. Crazy, huh?” The employee, a stout man in a polo, looks to you as if your word is all the validation he needs. 

“Um, yeah,” you say. You look at the display of different phone options, trying to do something with your hands to steady you. 

Seokjin is about to find out that you know. He’s going to learn about it through the horrific, awful drunk tirade you went on last night. You’ll hurt him. You’ll only add to that fodder of him not feeling lovable. 

Your hands shake as Seokjin says something to the employee and laughs, his windshield wiper like laughter squeaking from him. In betrayal, your body responds to it, a sharp and incredibly temporary flutter of joy masking the terror that you feel in his discovery. What if he thinks you have bad intentions? That you’re using him as a personal toy. 

A knot of bile starts to crawl up your throat and you gesture at Seokjin, his eyes meeting yours as you point to the door. You must look awful because he nods, his eyebrows furrowing as you slide out the door. 

Air, you need air. The sticky summer humidity isn’t offering much relief but you inhale anyway, full breaths expanding your lungs and helping soothe a bit of the nausea. 

You close your eyes. You can’t watch his face as he learns. Can’t see the betrayal as whatever you said last night in all your fogginess is pulled into thin air. So you sit there, breathing over and over again, trying to steady yourself. 

Your mouth is dry. If he wants to talk you’re not sure you’ll have the words much less be able to work around the bitter taste in your mouth as you try to form your lips around the words to speak them. 

How quickly can you fuck up a relationship? Will this be some kind of world record for the fastest time someone is dated and then dumped? How long has it been? A handful of hours since Seokjin said he wanted to date you. A handful of minutes since you became his girlfriend and another handful of minutes that feel like hours since he stepped into that shop. Seconds until you’re told all this ends here. 

Can you mourn something you never even really had? You’re learning now that yes. That the idea of it was enough because that cloying tenseness in your throat has worked its way up to bead a few tears from your eyes. 

Why do you always cry now, you wonder. This has been an ongoing thing with you, tears springing free during moments of anxiety or joy or fear. You haven’t had the chance to decode any of that. You just know Seokjin feels safe to cry around. But now, he’s going to see you like this and what if he thinks you’re manipulating him? 

You rasp a breath to your lungs, the tears falling more freely as you heave into the air. The sun is setting, the hot summer night breaking through the sky in streams of pinks and oranges and purples. Any other time it would be beautiful but right now it feels like the sky is falling. 

You hold the air into your lungs, out of forgetting to breathe or intentionally trying to steady yourself, it’s hard to know. They both feel like the same thing right now. 

“Y/N?” 

Your head snaps around, and despite the fear of what you’ll see, you can’t deny him anything. Not now. You look at Seokjin, his brand new phone in his hands, eyes wide with concern. 

“What happened? Are you hurt? Did someone do something?” 

He looks you up and down and then rapidly flits to your surroundings, no doubt looking for some kind of perpetrator or cause for your tears. 

“‘m fine,” you somehow mutter through another heavy breath. 

“No, no you’re not. What’s going on? You’re shaking, baby. Come here.” 

Your teeth chatter, exposing you, but before you can protest, Seokjin wraps his arms around you, slowly rocking you back and forth on the sidewalk in the dying light. 

You’re glad he doesn’t say anything, because the idea of him being nice to you all the while knowing you have said such awful things makes you want to throw up. 

Instead, you stand in the hot air, your bodies sweating after only a moment of the embrace. 

When your breathing finally steadies, Seokjin pulls away, a soft smile on his face as he brushes his fingers under your eyes to wipe your tears. The gesture is so sweet it rots a hole in your stomach. 

Say something, it demands. 

“Messages,” you say. That’s all you can get out, your body’s remaining tremor threatening to travel up to your teeth. 

Seokjin stares at you blankly. Is he shocked you’re the one to bring it up? 

His eyebrows raise as he finally registers what you just said. 

“Oh,” he says. 

Oh. So simple. Not a nose dive into fury or a tip into an argument. Just one word ringing across the atoms between you too. 

Please, you think. Please just get this over with. 

“So you heard them?” you ask. 

He frowns, holding up the new shiny phone in front of you. 

“Um, no actually. Turns out that there’s some stupid issue they’re having moving voicemails from one phone to another. Not a cloud issue but a carrier problem. So if someone called me during the time my phone was dead, I have no idea. No messages.” 

You blink at him. “What?”

“I know, it’s frustrating. Now I have to double back and call everyone I can think of. My parents, my brother. The restaurant. The suppliers, the dry cleaner. In a way I’m almost relieved I don’t have any messages because I can now lean into the fact that I played hooky so I could stay home with you and use it as a far better excuse than what I was planning but it’s still such a fucking inconvenience.” 

He didn’t hear. He doesn’t know. A cool breeze flows through the street, rustling some trash and leaves in the road. You feel the heat of the panic attack begin to recede as realization sets in. 

“Either way, that’s not the point. Are you okay? You look pretty shaken up and your eyes were like wide lamps of terror when I stepped outside.” 

“I…I panicked,” you offer after a moment. “Not sure what it was but it just hit and I needed to get out.” 

The threat of bile rises in your throat as you tack on the lie. 

“Was it that employee? Because he was kind of a weird dude. Gave me strange vibes.”

“Maybe,” you say. 

“Okay, well I’m glad you’re okay now. Are you ready to go eat? I heard your stomach growling earlier so I know you must be starving.” 

You nod, letting Seokjin walk you toward the restaurant. Another lie. 

You feel nothing resembling hunger in your stomach. Instead, you feel the unmistakable heaviness of guilt, leaden and metallic in your mouth. You don’t eat a single thing. And Seokjin doesn’t say so, but the way he regards you as you dump your whole meal into a carry out container tells you he also knows you’re lying to him but just hasn’t asked the question you don’t want to answer.

He walks you home in the darkness, the warped spotlights of street lamps flickering continue to paint your bodies. Dark and light. Dark and light. Shadows and moonlight. In this scenario, you think you know who is the shadow and who is the moonlight. 

©2024 by jooniperbonsai

[kaalypsoooo]

I have food for the showtime fans! Of which I am one myself and I just couldn’t resist-

Full fic! ~ (Slight angst,fluff) (Showtime!🎩✨❤️)

Contented ~

Pomni awoke in a panic, sitting up as she heaved out sobs. This alerted the attention of Caine, the Ringleader and caretaker of the digital circus, without a second glance he had simply appeared in pomni’s room, eyes scanning her upset figure.

“Pomni? What’s wrong, my dear?” He floated closer to her, his hand reaching up to rest on her cheek, which Pomni reacted to with more crying. It became hard for her to string together a sentence, her words coming out jumbled and broken.

“I-I’m sorry- I-I don’t w-want you to see me like this-“

She tried to gently push him away, but he remained fixated on her, thinking of anything he could do to ease her sadness. He took her face in his hands, leaning her forehead against his upper set of teeth. He let out a sigh, his gaze piercing hers with nothing but love and affection.

“Ah, it seems like you’ve had another nightmare, don’t worry, I’ll stay in here with you for a while! Okay?”

He gave her a reassuring look, noticing how her gaze softened at his words. He couldn’t help but blush, she was so cute, even crying, he couldn’t get enough of her.

“…Okay.” She looked at him with pleading eyes, her tears slowly but surely stopping in their tracks. “Could we…”

“Hm? What would you like? I am here to provide!” He exclaimed, excited at the thought of being able to spend more time with his little jester.

“Could we cuddle..?” His heart skipped a beat, he wasn’t even sure how that was possible, seeing that he was an AI. With an ever growing grin, he swooped her up into his arms, sprawling out on her bed with her wrapped around him.

“Comfy?” He chimed into the silence of the room, his hands now wrapped around her waist. She nodded, nuzzling up to him like a little kitten. Oh my god, this girl would be the death of him.

She let out a relaxed sigh, beginning to pepper kisses along his jawline. He fully embraced this, drawing her closer to him in a tight hug as she left kiss after kiss on his face.

He chucked at the lips attacking his face, nuzzling his face against her face in an attempt to kiss her back. It was a bit awkward trying to kiss her with just teeth for a face, but she was smiling anyway, obviously enjoying the attention.

After a while of them just lying together in bed, enjoying each other’s company, Pomni began to doze off in his arms, a smile returning to his face as she cuddled up to him sleepily.

“It seems my work is done, perhaps I should go..” He whispered, leaning in to awkwardly kiss her forehead. But apparently, she wasn’t going to let him leave that easily. She tightened her grip around him, as if he couldn’t just teleport away from her right now if he wanted to, but…he didn’t want to. He was truly drawn to her, enamored even.

“Ah- Alright..” He decided to stay, gently patting her head as she conked back out, drooling on his arm as she slept. Others would find it sort of gross, but he found it cute, just watching her sleep for a while as he does not feel the need to sleep. He felt contented in that moment, he had no idea what he had done to deserve this, but he definitely wasn’t complaining.

|Should I upload the second part for yall?

[octahyde]

ocxcanon cringe

It’s OC X Canon week on Twitter and idk if I’m gonna do it and if I do it’ll take months and none of it will be posted anyways but i thought I’d post and give a rundown of my ships hi

(picrew used)

I don’t have many but I’m putting them under a cut just because that’s easier

Yuzuki X Wren- Story of Seasons: Trio of Towns

The YuzuWren… my everything… I made them in 2020 because that was the year I started really getting into making OCs and finally played 3oT after being hesitant and skipping out when it came out due to how badly the concept of multiple villages was implemented last time. (Thank FUCK Marvelous learned from tott. Anyways) Especially because during the time of playing the file, I realized I had been repressing some horrific, horrific trauma of something that happened to me. They’re what got me through it and I ended up getting a solid 100 hours through their file!

Wren is a trans man. Along with his interest in farming, Daryl refused to accept him as a man. Gay Uncle Frank took him in not only to help get started with farming, but also to help him with transitioning. (As a side note I did not realize Wren starting to transition when he moved to his farm meant he was getting his hrt top and phallo from fucking Ford until months later and felt so FUCKING sorry for him.) (Another side note- Daryl refuses to accept Wren’s transness even after he becomes “proud” of his farm and hopes he’ll grow out of it, Marlena is happy to see how well her “daughter” is doing, and Lynn is genuinely really supportive but rarely gets to see him because of how she’s still young and lives with their parents.)

When Wren first visits Tsuyukusa, he starts helping out Omiyo and Umekichi whenever he had down time to make things a little easier for them. Obviously, this lead to occasionally checking in on Yuzuki as well. Wren got interested in Yuzuki’s jewelry early on and started trying to make more time to talk to him. From being sexually harassed from being so frail and feminine looking in his childhood, Yuzuki was very empathetic to Wren- he’s cis and he can’t possibly imagine how much harder they were for Wren having that his entire life. Finding out Yuzuki was also the unfavorite child to a significantly more horrific degree than Wren was likewise made Wren more sympathetic to him.

Anyways they get married and have gay sex and live an r/childfree life because I have having kids in these games LMAO can you tell they’re my darling yaoi

Mistel X Roland- Story of Seasons (3DS)

I started this file a while ago but recently got back to it!! And doubled the hours I had on it before in a week. Uh.

Roland was a born and raised city boy who always hated how busy the city was. He always loved growing his own vegetables on his apartment balcony and, eventually after doing research on agriculture, decided he’d do best on a farm. When a lot opened up in Oak Tree Town, home of his favorite writer, he couldn’t refuse and set out immediately. Indeed, it wasn’t long before Roland started visiting Iris regularly to talk about literature with her. Mistel, the autistic little freak he is, got curious about Roland very fast and kept attacking him with questions every time he came to talk with his sister. Roland found it incredibly annoying and started giving Mistel little presents when he visited to satiate him while he talked to Iris. This backfired, however, as it only got Mistel even more fixated on him and made him start prodding at Roland even more than he did before. Worst of all, Roland was beginning not only to not mind it, but also starting to enjoy it! At some point, he started visiting less for Iris and more for Mistel. Not that he had a crush on him. He’d never admit he had a crush on him. Eventually Mistel beat him too the punch and asked him out, and that’s where my file currently is!! Very excited to get to when he’s disproportionally hornier than every other LI in the entire series LMFAO

IdiYume- Twisted Wonderland

This one is really REALLY embarrassing for me because I haven’t done romantic yume/self ships since like… middle school

My sona is a catch all one I made a few years ago; Beatrice “Trixie”/“Trix” Hart. Normally I use her/him to terrorize anime boys platonically (she was first created to be an assistant to Klavier Gavin in Ace Attorney, and I think it shows with the name LMAO), but as I got more into the series and read Book 6, I Needed to kiss Idia Shroud and used him for this as well. His name stays the same minus the nickname because, well, I’m a trans dude keeping his gendered birth name lol.

He’s a second year Pomefiore bnuuy beastman at NRC and is BFFs with Cater. Him and Idia vaguely know each other, but generally dislike each other. Online, though, he’s Idia’s favorite vtuber and ok this is too embarrassing for me sorry JDKDWKKFSKFB

I prefer them a lot after NRC, though- I view them as both being transhet (because I am transhet. bye). Idia’s boymoding at NRC, and Trix is girlmoding quite literally everywhere except the all male school he goes to. After they graduate, they start transitioning together. Its a very very intimate experience for both as they support each other through everything.

This picrew is them 10 years post NRC when they’re fully transitioned because that’s usually what I think about with them. :) They’re very happy and love each other and their 3 cats and their younger brother and his 2 dogs.

Chenya X Beau Rhodes-Twisted Wonderland

My most recent ocxcanon ship and the one I have the least amount of development on because there’s so little known about RSA and Chenya is only allowed out of RSA Jail every now and then for enrichment. Beau is twisted from the rose from Beauty and the Beast! He also grew up in the Queendom of Roses, but a different part than Chenya Trey and Riddle. Him and Chenya were roommates their first year at RSA. Beau is very mature and committed to his work and studies in floral arrangement, in contrast to Chenya who’s. Well. Chenya. They end up balancing each other out; Chenya helps Beau lighten up, and Beau has better luck than most convincing Chenya to stop fucking around when he needs to.

The biggest aspect, to their dynamic, however, is something else.

I think NRC is one giant cringe compilation to RSA. They love hearing about the insane things that happen there. And, well, Chenya is childhood friends with the most ridiculous human being ever born, Riddle Rosehearts. And also Trey Clover, man who has spent his entire life being in love with the most ridiculous human being ever born, Riddle Rosehearts. Beau and Trey met as first years from Chenya introducing them, but whenever Riddle came up there was a silent “dude just wait until you meet this guy next year.” Beau didn’t know what he expected but Riddle met all of them.

Chenya does convince him to go to an unbirthday party with him though. Eventually. And he surprisingly does have a great time. That doesn’t stop the “I’ve had to listen to him talk about being in love with this guy for 8 years dude” conversations though.

[catboymitosis]

Ok so I found your account very recently and I am loving it! Would you be fine with discussing more of your thoughts on Daan being trans? I briefly thought about it the other day but I would love to hear your perspective. Sorry if you already discussed this somewhere else and I didn’t see it 😭

Aaaa thank you glad you're enjoying your time here so far! I talked a tiny bit about it in the tags of my post about him as the blank soul but I'll gladly talk more about it <3

I personally worked my way backward into seeing Daan as trans, rather than looking for evidence it was more about what reading him as trans connected with and brought to other aspects of his character.

My starting point is what Pocketcat says to him during his moonscorching transformation and how much of it was focused on idenity issues, faking who you are, putting on masks, being so obviously out of place and seen through. I don't think what Pocketcat says during this scene should be taken 100% at face value because a lot of what he tells Daan that he really feels actively benefits its goals of turning him into a vessel but this being what Pocketcat chooses to manipulate him through is telling.

Daan holds very deep seated insecurities about not passing. And boy do we see him fail to pass in game. Karin calls him a queer right in front of everyone and in party talks a few of the jabs she takes at him are about his percieved failure at masculine things. If the player attacks and intimidates him they call his "blade" too small, to me this paints the picture that Daan has an in world queerness to him that's so obvious it's not strange that it would get used against him.

He effectively does pass as a man, he's likely had access to what gender affirming surgery and hormones existed at the time and period-typical transphobia would dictate if they even knew what a transexual was they probably still wouldn't know they could be men. So what Daan's not passing as is actually a straight man (world's #1 gayest wife guy) but that at the same time that really doesn't matter for his own anxieties. We see him pass as a man of higher status by pretty much everyone (another thing Karin likes to take jabs at him for) despite how much he feels out of place in that world, nobody would ever be able to guess his past involvement with Sylvain from the way he acts in Prehevil yet he still feels like they can see through it and know how he's been aligned with her aligned with her all his life.

He's got that voice in his head that tells him "they all know what you are" which, as a trans person myself, very much resonates with part of the trans experience. As does how much others push the kind of man he "should" be onto him.

I tend to fixate on his identity issues the most out of any aspect of his character. How suggestible he is about being told who he is because he needs a role to play lest it really sink in how blank he is. Having him despite that, know he is and choose to live as a man feels very powerful and impactful to me! It also makes it all the more tragic that one of the very few things he decided for himself that he was inevitibly gets affirmed yet twisted and perverted into Pocketcat, who while not being a manly man of any sort is basically the natural extreme to those flamboyant effeminate cartoon gaycoded villains of the old disney movies, a very male threat.

[bumblingbabooshka]

No one else I know has watched voyager so sorry to come to you but I just happened to get to meld and whyyy aren't people more into lon suder and whatever the fuck he has going on with tuvok??

Brad dourif is a fave actor so I'm already biased but I'm screaming. Like how fixated tuvok was on execution since suder himself suggested it and how he went straight to him when he got out aaaa. How clearly suder was into the idea of tuvok dominating him??? And then when he held tuvok in the end and called for help???? ScreamING. Cannot believe I saw this much not gay sex gay sex in star trek to be honest. Anyway. I hope you are having a nice day and you are a great artist.

Tuvok/Suder Aesthetics, Themes: Charged silences. Long letters to prisoners. Large bodies of water that threaten something though they are seemingly still in the moment. Dark rooms you can sense someone is in. Pristine rooms where you can sense something horrible has happened. The opposite of love is indifference. Courthouse drama. A keen and intense interest. Self-harm though sex. Crushing loneliness. The feeling of being fundamentally misunderstood. The feeling of being so intimately understood it's frightening, euphoric. Desperately keeping something hidden. Hands that only held things with the intent to kill them cradling you close vs Hands that've only ever been sure and steady now shaking, grasping for your throat. Church confessional. Stabbing someone as reference to another penetration. Desire so strong it threatens to overwhelm but you must fight against it. Melting steel so you can bend it. You make me a better person but I know I'm making you worse. Observation vs Experience. Conjugal visit. Dual death. Nothing can simulate the sublime.

(shows up a million months late with nothing in my hands but an aesthetically pleasing vibe) Heeeey..............SORRY;; Tuvok/Suder is such an amazing ship with such a cool dynamic and the writers didn't HAVE to show Suder gently lifting Tuvok from where he'd collapsed on the floor to cradle him closer, a bit unsure, looking around as if he's never held someone tenderly in his life, but they DID show that and they did it for folks like you and I v_v I also really love how fixated Tuvok became about the execution. Even though he's being driven a bit mad by the violence Suder's mind tapped into he's still justifying it to himself as the moral thing to do, not just going off-the-wall and killing for the pure pleasure of it.

He brings up the family of the man Suder killed, says that an execution would be justice, insinuates that he finds it unfair that a person who killed someone else's punishment would be to live a relatively easy life and that the ship would spend its resources to facilitate it and tells Suder that he takes no comfort in the fact that he 'has' to kill him. Suder of course questions this as he correctly sees all of those things as excuses which allow Tuvok to kill someone while trying to disguise the choice as a moral one in line with his values rather than one that outright breaks them. I really liked the back-and-forths between them. It seems like Suder really does make Tuvok question his worldview just by existing and Suder himself is obviously a deep thinker though he's apathetic about the world due to feeling fundamentally disconnected from it unless he interacts with it in a violent manner. The fact that he's tried to curb or be rid of his violent impulses in the past (and is willing to try new ways to do it in the present) is also interesting to me! I also find it interesting how he seems genuinely thrilled that Tuvok is willing to kill him, he seems almost euphoric in the moments before his potential death - gazing up at the light with wide eyes and a smile. I find it interesting how he's the one who says "then we'll both die" though Tuvok didn't imply that and he doesn't move to attack Tuvok back - he's just entirely certain that upon killing him Tuvok will kill himself out of guilt. Oh, and the fact that Tuvok's fascination with Suder leads him to performing a mind meld despite the fact that there's literally no need for it beyond his own personal desire for an answer...what a detective, what a homosexual. Why are you so stuck on establishing a motive you understand? So you can become one with the mind of another man - a bond which mimics briefly the one of marriage which you've lost? Last but not least some funnier elements are the fact that Tuvok literally does the -kills you with my mind- thing, a power which he apparently has and also whenever you watch that scene where (holo)Neelix is being annoying and Tuvok chokes him to death for it please just remember that Tuvok wrote every word of that. Tuvok sat down, sweating, consumed by a desire for violence and he wrote 'itty-bitty little smile'. Also interesting that he wrote a narrative that again he could excuse himself in - a sort of 'he drove me to it' narrative instead of say, one where he could just kill anyone for no reason GTA style. I like that part of him that still needs a reason(excuse) for his violence! It's a good character trait and contrasts Suder who kills people because 'I didn't like the way they looked at me.' Everyone in the world who likes HEAVILY implied gay shit with a hannibal-style vibe please go watch 'Meld'.

[lrfanfics]

Poly Cupid (Cupido Poly)

Ladies, gentleman and fellow enbys, we present to y’all the Prologue of our dear fic “Poly Cupid”.

PROLOGUE

POV Castiel 

The last school day, which is also prom day, has finally arrived. During these last 2 years, in this Hell of a place called school, I've been suppressing my romantic feelings about a certain green eyed, long brown haired girl. Her name is Lili and today it'll be the day I finally declare myself to her. 

Because I'm already mentally prepared? 

Not much. 

Because I heard the son of a bitch that is my worst enemy, telling someone that he would be doing the same thing as me today? 

Yes, obviously!

Of course I would never let Nathaniel win. Besides, I'm sure Lili will accept me! Like, has any of you read a fanfic, or seen a show, where the shy nerd wins against the sexy bad boy? No! Of course not! 

* 

"Ahm… I'm… sorry, but I… already like someone else." I opened my eyes, not being able to believe what I had just heard. 

And there I was, with this shitty leash (a tie) that that blonde asshole is always wearing; next to the school's entrance in front of my crush that was oh so pretty, wearing a beautiful dark green dress that reached her knees; under a fantastic night sky, typical of those super cliché romantic films… being rejected. 

 I! 

 WAS! 

 REJECTED!

Me!!! The hot bad boy! 

This shit never happens in fanfics! Usually the bad boys are very lucky in this sort of stuff, especially the music ones like me! 

"Who do you like, then? Ah, I know… Kentin, right?" The typical Childhood Friends into Lovers trope." I gotta find out who's the motherfucker that stole my girl. 

Lili simply looked at me and denied my question with her head, sheepishly.

"Lysander?" Mysterious dudes are also a big thing with girls. 

"No." She said while nodding with her head side-to-side again. 

"Don't tell me you have a crush on the surfer dude?" 

"Ewww… of course not!" Lili said, rolling her eyes and making a disgusted expression.

"What? Let me guess, you like Nathaniel, is it?" 

Pfff! What am I even saying? Like something like that could ever happen! Hahaha! Who the fuck likes nerdy, nice guys? 

Lili visibly tensed up. She then started to move her hands in the air, nervously.

"N—No! O—Of course not! Me liking Nath? What are you even saying! Hahaha!"

Shit! Fuck me and this stupid fucking luck of mine! I would prefer it if she said she liked Lysandre, then it wouldn't be as humiliating as this! And who knows… we could've formed a trio. 

"Lili?" The voice of that blonde dipshit interrupted this humiliating moment. 

I saw her look at him, embarrassed, I think she was scared that he'd heard our previous conversation. 

There was a long silence. They're gazes were completely fixated on one another so much that it almost looked like they were fucking each other just through their vision. This is too much of a humiliation! God, do you really hate me this much?!

"I just wanted to know if you'd like to come dance with me for a little bit… as friends, of course!" He stretched his hand towards her and she placed her hand in his. 

"I would. A—As friends, obviously!" She added, a very noticeable nervous smile plastered on her face. 

Hello!? Don't these bitches see me here or something?! 

"Bye, Castiel! I hope I'll never have to see your face again!" Nathaniel said, grinning, while he took Lili, who was waving me goodbye, as they entered the gym where the party was occurring in.

And I just stood there. 

Alone. 

Rejected. 

Humiliated by that fucking son of bitch, Nathaniel! 

I think my life can't get worse than this. 

I decided to just walk back home, at least Dragon is gonna be there waiting for me. The streets were completely empty and silent, but there was this one sound that caught my attention and was only getting louder and louder, until it… 

AH! BITCH, THAT SHIT LEGIT SCARED THE FUCK OUT OF ME! 

I almost had a fucking heart attack! Fuck! How are these people able to pass their drivers test!? Can't you see the fucking crosswalk on the ground! They must have bribed the fucking instructor, damn. 

"ARE YOU FUCKING BLIND!? CAN'T YOU SEE I WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING CROSSWALK, HUH!?" If my reflexes weren't so good I would've been ran over by this retard. Unbelievable! 

The same car that had almost ran me over abruptly stopped, it's already a little late for that, but ok. When the driver's side door opened, a woman with brown hair and blue eyes— NO… not her, please… anything but this whore!

"I should've guessed! This could've only be your doing, you whore!" I barked in the direction of Debrah. Why is this bitch so obsessed with me!? I mean, what idiot wouldn't be obsessed with me, ain't that right?

 . 

 .

 .

Oh, right.

When I noticed, the bitch was already a few centimetres away from my face while her gaze was fixated on my crouch.

"Hey! I don't know about you, but when I'm talking with someone I like them to be looking at my face while I do it!" I spit.

 … 

Who does this chick think she is to be ignoring me right after almost killing me with her car!? 

I bring my hand up to her head and start poking her with my index finger. 

"Hey stu—" What—!? 

WHAT THE FUCK, MY FUCKING FINGER JUST PASSED THROUGH HER HEAD—!!!? But— The fuck just happened?! I feel like I'm trippin' right now… I knew that I shouldn't have asked that shady looking guy, wearing a leather jacket, for a cigarette!

Suddenly, the world seemed to be spinning around me, making my head hurt, and the beating of my heart accelerate at each breath that I took. Sweat falling down my face. 

I look at Debrah, a disgusting smile plastered on those hoe lips of hers. "Heh. One less cuck… huhm, I better get going before the cops get here." She says, turning her back to me and running away. 

 This hoe really thinks she's that bitch, huh!? 

Huff. I let out a sigh. This is some bullshit… 

While she walked back to her stupid ass car, her last words didn't seem to leave my mind: I better get going before the cops get here. 

Yes, it's true that she almost sent me to a better place, but… I don't feel in pain, or don't seem to have anything broken. She almost aborted my life, ALMOST, but she didn't. So why would she be afraid of the police — besides the fact that they're extremely intimidating — without having committed any sort of crime? Well, none besides being a slut, right?

 . . . 

 Wait

… . . .

A few minutes ago, when my hand passed through her face, that normally only happens when— No… NO!

I gulp and take a deep breath. If this is really happening right now, it could only mean one thing… I turn my head around, slowly, and it looks like my fears have been confirmed… fuck me. There it was, my beautiful sexy body laid on the ground like dog shit. 

It's so depressing that it's enough to make a manly man, like me, cry. I can't look, I don't want to look… but I do— 

Ah! Wait—! 

T—This can't be real, this has to be some sort of very shitty lucid dream! That would also explain why Lili picked that fucking blonde dumbass over me! Because it's impossible for a bad boy, especially ME, to be rejected! HA! 

Ok… enough is enough! Now is time to wake the fuck up, Castiel— 

"Shut the fuck up and take your ass to the tunnel, already." Said a low and raspy voice. 

Excuse me—!? 

I quickly turn my body in the direction of the voice and find myself face-to-face with a dark skinned… and short… man, with dark brown hair and eyes. Hey, wasn't that the man that gave me tha—

TO BE CONTINUED

[its-all-papaya]

WAIT I DIDNT LNOW YOU POSTED AN ASK GAME ive been at work all day and off Tumblr

for selfish reasons can I pleaseeeeee do 31. and ask show/movie recs or your faves because I need new recs !!

I swear the lack of asks was not malicious intent 🫶

get to know me

i knowwwww i was just overreacting bc i was cold and wet and waiting outside my polling place scared. y'all are fiiiiine.

31. free pass (show/movie recs)

i am so rlly sorry to let you know that i am the WORST person to ask this kind of question to bc (as my friends like to say) i am bad at consuming media. i have a really really hard time watching movies bc my brain is broken in a "this is not a productive use of two hours" way? and same thing for shows with plot. i also have the general fucked up attention span that a lot of people in my generation have, which makes it hard to sit through things. i'll give you what i've got but i cannot even pretend that this is high-quality stuff !! you were warned !!

i really love documentaries, so a lot of my favorite media is in that realm. i love learning things. my favorites are FYRE (Netflix fyre fest doc), Athlete A (USA Gymnastics abuse thing), and Shiny Happy People (the Duggars). I've also watched Blackfish about a thousand times and this one doc Pray Away that gave me a borderline panic attack the first time i watched it, but mostly bc it was just like... really A Lot for me (we're going full exvangelical trauma dump tonight in the answers to this ask game for some reason).

if you're looking for movies that are NOT documentaries i am so so sorry to report that my favorite movie is National Treasure and i haven't watched anything new other than hallmark christmas movies in probably years. i saw the Barbie movie in summer of 2023 and it was the first movie i'd paid for since Frozen 2 in 2019.

for TV shows, it's a lottttt of reality TV for me. I've seen every episode of Catfish: The TV Show as well as Ghost Hunters and Ghost Adventures. I watched three full seasons of Sister Wives while writing anybody, nowhere. I went through a big Project Runway and ANTM phase during early COVID. also binged Love Is Blind as most of us did in 2020 and beyond.

TV shows with plots!!! Bones. it's the only love plot in any media that has ever made me cry. i know it's like... not scientifically correct but idgaf, it's whatever. Glee? unironically, glee is THE THING that began my political conversion. it was the first genuine gay rep i'd ever seen. also i've not talked about this bc it's extremely off-brand but i WAS a theater kid in college. outside of that, i'll go weird fixation mode and watch the entire first season of something before giving up - victims of this phenomenon are One Tree Hill, Desperate Housewives, American Horror Story, Criminal Minds, 90210 and Vampire Diaries. none of which i rlly recommend.

sorry i am so extremely unhelpful. really the only thing i watch is sports (F1 obviously but also MLB, NFL, NBA, WNBA, about every college sport that exists including some you've probably never heard of) and those few reality TV shows that i loop.

i feel awful for this answer. like it will keep me up at night. i'm so so so so so sorry.

[screampied]

hiiiiiiiiiiiii!!! that’s okay, don’t worry, hope you had a wonderful rest 😌

yes, we do match a lot. i really like talking with you because i feel so energetic to just yap and yap and yap. some things happened last night and this morning regarding a mutual i have-used to have and now i’m not in the mood to keep interacting with people. except, obviously, you. i don’t know, some people in here are so…weird. it got me really sad, i almost decided to deactivate, but said fuck them, i’m not in here for people i’m here to post my silly little thoughts about not so little silly men.

sorry for they small personal rant!

ON GOD, my pc is an old fella, and i mainly used the guy for playing the sims. his name is harold, by the way. he did very well on the first month, but boy was getting feed too much CC so he told me to fuck myself and stopped working, what a cunt. i had a beautiful sapphic couple, and one of them got pregnant on accident and i got sad because it’s so boring to have babies and they are so ugly?

nowadays i only watch one streamer and he is from my country, which on any other circumstance i would tell you, but i’m afraid i’m the only person from my country that writes in here for jjk. at least that i know of.

THATS THE REASON I HAVENT YET DOWNLOADED IT 😭 i use my tablet for designing and studying so it would fuck me up real good, and it’s samsung so it glitches so much it pisses me off so bad.

i think you will find out. you see, i really like sending anons to people, but you are the first one i’m consistently sending to the point of having a name (which, btw, i melted with my name on your anons, it’s so cute!!). going back on track, whenever i send i try to make sure it doesn’t look like it’s the real me, but with you i do. as i said, i like talking with you, i feel comfortable, so i just let me be me.

jason is smelly af, just like brahms, you know? but toji jason would smell of that mainly sweat, woods, pines, any type of shit that would probably make me not run away that fast. i don’t have that much of a survival instinct, and if the killer is a almost two meters male i am going nowhere.

wait, ☝️ nutty 🥺 cute.

I THINK YOU SHOULD DO IT, i love crack fics, i love your fics and loser or virgin satoru (both) is so kcjdkdndkekd got me biting my toes off. pls do, like seriously, i think it would be so cool and fresh. also, the name was perfection. satoru really fixes perfectly in the bimbo box, with the b of bitch. one time i described him as if michael scott and mean girls mom had a white haired baby, and i don’t think i’ll ever come across this type of enlightenment again.

OH, QUEEN IS EVERYTHING. i remember how me, being a younger little shit, would hate everything my older sibling liked, and queen got attacked by me. in my defense, whenever they like some band/musician, they listened to it everyday. first it was fun, then panic at the disco, then queen and now elton john. but soon as they skipped to the next fixation, i became obsessed with their oldest one. also, this boy in high school thought he was the shit because he saw the movie and knew the songs, so i was in the chapel (christian school) with him and finished the lyrics to bohemian rhapsody and he goes “omg, you know queen?” BOY I WAS BORN AND MY PARENTS WERE BLASTING IT ON THE ROOM NEXT DOOR, TF. EVERYONE KNOWS QUEEN.

born to die is my ride or die, my favorite from it is this is what makes us girls because it reminds me of my teenage years, but my favorite of them all is young and beautiful, i am obsessed with the great gatsby and my brain chemicals have never survived the scene about daisy and gatsby past.

sabrina seriously is feeding my writing ideas with this new album. bed chem with gojo, juno with nanami, oh…fucking hell. we really are the same person, i love it !!!

i am petrified of tsunamis. they are impossible to happen in my country, but i still have nightmares regarding them and waking up all frightened. once i had one where people went up to the mountains and still it wasn’t enough.

oh… hm, well, i want to say something but i can’t yet. brasil is beautiful, i get it. my dream place to go is anywhere that i can see northern lights. fuck, like, i don’t know how to explain but just the thought of having the chance to stare into the sky and seeing those lights that look like magic makes me want to cry. another country would be chile, in the desert you can see the milky way 🥺 i’m a big astronomy nerd, so that’s just enough to make me happy. you will never catch me saying this on main, but i would enjoy going to the usa so i could eat their high in calories and unnecessary food. there is something about it that grosses me out but also makes me go hmmm.

question for today is what was your first work posted here and what’s your favorite season?

nutty anon.

NUUTTTTY BAE

that’s valid 🤒. interacting w ppl can get overwhelming sometimes so i understand. im glad u didn’t deactivate ‘n ur still here tho <3 but THATSSS THE SPIRIT. noooo ur fine rant as much as you want this is a safe spaceeee xx

ARGGHHH in the meantime you can always watch playthroughs of lads online !!! like you can watch certain scenes n stuff bc im sure ppl recorded that stuff.

of course you’re on my anon list i just had to make u an official squirtling 🤭🤭. IMSO GLAD I MAKE U FEEL COMFY.

stotppppf ur making me have brain rot about jason!toji now, jus imagine the breeding kink, manhandling, he def gets off at rubbing the end of his machete against our cooch.

THANKYOUU 🤒🤒. omg maybe i’ll do it, i love writing silly shit every once in a while bc why not 💔💔💔. that is such a unique compasrasion to satoru i love it

LOVEEEEE QUEEN. i gen wish i was bored in the 80s or even the 70s. the style always has me gagged like ???? i love how a lot of old vintage styles are coming back also. so real 😭. i grew up around a low of heavy metal / rock & indie. ooh i haven’t listened to patd in a min, elton johnnn ugh i still haven’t seen rocketman. SPEAKING OF did u see bohrap? apparently ppl have mixed opinions on it / rami’s portrayal of freddie but i rly liked it 🧎‍♀️

so true i wanna see the northern lights badly. i also wanna visit scotland for some reason? chileeeee that seems like that would be so fun to visit also !!!!! ur an astronomy nerd that’s so cute 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️. PAHAHA same i wanna visit the us too, i’ve never been outside my country but a lot of my moots are from the us and it seems cool. the first state id had to visit would have to be nevada so i can go to las vegas bc hahahah.

my first work i posted was my fantasize, the fwb satoru fic with the silly cliffhanger hehe. its crraaazy how much time its been since nov. ‘23 i still feel so new 🤧. MY FAVVV SEASON is either winter or fall !!!!

[silkscream]

wipe your blood off the concrete

pairing: peter parker x reader

synopsis: you are peter’s best friend in the whole world. the two of you can barely hold back your feelings for each other after peter is beaten badly after a night on patrol. he takes you by surprise when he insists the two of you go to a party afterwards and things get very confusing.

warnings: smut (18+ only), mentions of blood, mentions of mental illness/anxiety/panic attacks, alcohol use, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, protected sex

genres: best friends to lovers, uni!peter, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, fluff and angst and smut all in one

wc: 8k+

a/n: GOD this is a big bertha. i was listening i think you’re alright by jay som and then my brain spiraled entirely into... this. i recommend you listen to this song while you read. i could probably make a playlist based on this fic but i don’t want to self-indulge more than i already have. i’m a sucker for bffs to lovers, obviously. i’m also very wine drunk. do what this info what you will.

when i wake up in the morning

i’ll make you some coffee

we’ll lay about and let the day pass

College had taken a toll on Peter. He was an anxious boy, you knew this already. What you hadn’t seen in your years of knowing him was how hollow he could be, how he wouldn’t want to get up in the morning, how tight-lipped he could be in conversations when normally he’s always beaming. He doesn’t sleep at your place that much anymore because he hates to be a burden, even though you swear on your heart that you don’t mind helping him through his nightmares.

It often goes like this:

There are nights where Peter does unforgivable things. He watches Tony Stark die, he watches Aunt May look upon him in tears, he reaches out for your hand but you’re falling ten stories below him. It’s these nights where he shakes himself awake, suffocated by his own panicked breaths, but you’re usually right there to soothe him with hushed nothings in his ear. It’s an unspoken arrangement between the two of you that you don’t dare to discuss by morning. Besides, you’d had a few panic attacks of your own as you grew into your girlish flesh-suit, knobby limbs and scraped knees. Peter always liked you for how alive you always looked, even if you felt awkward roaming the earth in a body you were taught to dislike. You’re headstrong in your beliefs, however, and at your current age you’d been through enough bullshit to not fixate on the little problems you faced as a teenager. Peter considers you his rock, his other half. He often thinks it’s you who ought to bear the weight of a superhero. You’d do a better job than him, maybe.

It’s 10 am on a Friday and Peter is doing an awfully good job at zoning out the sound of you knocking on his door.

“Pierre,” you whine, holding a bag of donuts and a tray of coffees. “Let me in you son of a bitch.”

The lock on the door slides open. You’re met with a sleepy Peter, who’s traded his gangly figure to impressive biceps over the past five years. You try not to stare at how good his arms look in his fitted Led Zeppelin tee. You chuckle at the fact that he’s still wearing his boxers. Spiderman-patterned boxers, nonetheless. He groans. “Fuck, sorry. Real out of it today.”

“Oat milk, no sugar,” you smile at him, holding out your tray. You can see dark circles around his eyes. He must’ve been up late doing schoolwork or more technological advancements to his suit.

“You’re a godsend,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead as he takes the paper cup.

“Whatcha been up to?”

“Physics,” he yawns. “Waiting for you.”

“Peter, did you sleep at all last night?” you pester, poking his under-eye circles.

He shoots you a look of slight annoyance and shrugs.

You roll your eyes, gracelessly hopping onto his couch. Without a word, he topples onto you, settling his head on your lap as he flips through the front page of Netflix. You stroke your fingers through his curls. “You finish your work?”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Peter gripes.

“Is the Peter Parker slacking on his schoolwork?”

He grumbles and buries his face closer into your body, which makes your stomach flutter. “I finished everything, swear. Could probably spew out formulas in my sleep.”

“Get Tony to build you another EDITH but in reading glasses form. I’ll tap the answers to you. Or the formulas could probably just float across the lenses.” You steal the remote from him, much to his dismay and futile attempts to block you, and settle on a random episode of New Girl.

“Wow. We need more women in STEM like you.” You playfully smack the side of his face and it makes his nose scrunch up. Your fingers trace the freckles on his nose that aren’t very visible unless it’s the summer time, but you’re able to see them just from how close you are. The trance is broken at the vibration of your phone in your pocket, much to your relief.

He notices immediately how you chuckle at your screen, a smile lighting up your features. “Who’s that?”

“Um, Tinder message.”

“Can I see?” Peter asks, lifting his body to glance at your phone, though you swat him away. “Y/N, c’mon, I wanna see what goons are hitting on my best friend.”

“I don’t need your approval, Parker,” you giggle, holding your phone above your head. He intercepts it anyways, nearly falling into your lap and grabbing the phone. He blocks your squirming frame by laying his body on top of your sprawled out legs while his broad shoulders block your view.

“Tyler, 22, born and raised in Manhattan. Oh, please, business major? At NYU?” He swipes through the man’s pictures and squints. “‘You’ll probably see me hanging out with the dog at the party.’ Huh, how quirky and relatable of him.”

“Peter, give me my phone!” you half-laugh half-shriek, breathless from the fact that Peter’s weight is holding you down and preventing you from moving at all.

“Is he even your type? Seems like a dick honestly. You’re waaaay out of his league,” Peter muses mindlessly.

“And what exactly is my type, Parker?” Peter looks at you and opens his mouth, though nothing comes out. You smirk at him, able to flip him off of the couch and onto his carpet, snatching your phone from his hand as you sit on his chest. The two of you half-heartedly wrestle until you’re pinning him to the ground. “Tap out, motherfucker!”

“Ugh,” Peter huffs, sitting up slightly. “I’m serious, he looks like the president of a frat that’s on probation for some Title IX violations.”

“You’re an asshole,” you croon, shaking your head. “Let me get laid.”

Neither of you ever liked to address the pang of jealousy that came with seeing your best friend get attention from the opposite sex (okay, there were some girls enamored with you during your first semester of college, but you were too in your shell to actually follow through with anything). Secretly, Peter’s heart is dripping down to his shoes, but only slightly, of course. He’s laughing and teasing you the whole time, poking you in the ribs as you finally let him swipe through your Tinder. He sneaks a peek at your own profile, too, admiring how big and bright your eyes are in each photo — mostly which are photos he’s taken.

You’ve been on a few dates, give or take, but the end of the night is almost always instantly uncomfortable once things get physical. Peter Parker is like the devil on your shoulder, the New Moon-era Edward apparition to your Bella. You’ve been getting better at accepting that it’s him and always will be him. Even if you never have the guts to tell him.

___

i’ll wipe your blood off the concrete

take you to the party

we’ll drink until our brains black out

It’s past 8 pm when your texts to Peter quadruple. He’s usually very prompt and mindful in texting you back, especially when the two of you have plans to get Chinese takeout. The clock turns to ten when he finally answers.

peter: fuck

peter: can you cpme get m

peter: please

The bastard.

You swallow down your disappointment once you unlock your phone and the pit in your stomach is replaced with panic. Immediately, you tug on your shoes and grab your car keys.

___

“Peter!” you screech, seeing your battered friend on the concrete a few feet away from you. He’s struggling to breathe so he takes his mask off, exhaling heavily as he spits out a mixture of saliva and blood onto the pavement. Your eyes widen at the state of him — a bruise under his eye the shape of a crescent moon, a cut lip that’s still bleeding.

“Come here.” He’s able to get up, just barely, but he’s able to use you as a crutch as you usher him into your car. Luckily, this was a quiet neighborhood and your car was shielded by the dark alley. You wince at the sound of his groans in the backseat.

By the time you get to your apartment, his suit is completely off. You don’t expect to glance over to your backseat to see your best friend half-naked, though it’s nothing you haven’t seen before. It just makes something ache inside of you when you realize the damage of his wounds.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

“It’s okay! Just some attempted assault on some woman. It’s okay, NYPD came just in time.”

“Fuck NYPD,” you mutter under your breath. “I’m serious, Peter.”

“Shit,” Peter groans, clutching his side. The thought that enters your mind when you hear him is ungodly. “Fumbled the web-shooters so they were able to get the upper hand. Not to mention one of their buddies fucking… hit me with their car.”

“Jesus, Peter!” you exclaim. You can’t really berate him for getting hurt, though situations like this have you worried sick. You pull into your driveway and get out of the car to assist him.

“‘m sorry, y/n,” Peter huffs, grabbing your hand to support himself as he gets out of the car.

“Don’t apologize. This isn’t the first time you scared the shit out of me. I’m just glad you’re not dead.”

Peter darkly chuckles. Under the streetlight, his eyes look a bit amber, and the gaze he fixes on you isn’t something you can really fathom. It’s a look of tenderness. Your eyes dart to the other side of the street and back at him. “Stop staring, creep. Mrs. Wilkins will threaten to call my landlord if she sees me parading around a dude in his boxers at the dead of night.”

Peter shakes his head at you, laughing, but follows you into your home nonetheless. He follows you around like a stray cat as you rummage your bathroom for the first-aid kit. The glow of your bathroom light shows off your cheekbones, and he knows he can’t hide his affinity for you especially when you’re like this, tongue in your cheek focusing on the materials you have. He sits on the edge of your bathtub and watches you.

“Hydrogen peroxide, Neosporin, gauze…” you muse to yourself. Picking up the dark red bottle, you wiggle it towards him. “This is gonna sting.”

Pouring a bit onto a cotton round, you wipe it across his wounds gently. Peter braces himself but the stinging you warned him about is much worse than what he’s actually prepared for. “Fuck!” he cries out, his jaw clenching. He nearly hits you by accident but misses. He manages to stay still by holding your shoulder with his large hand, squeezing and cursing expletives. Your breath hitches at his strong grip. You could probably hear his heartbeat if he wasn’t breathing so hard. Your faces are inches apart as you rub his cheek, sliding a thumb down to his split lip.

“Um, here,” you stammer awkwardly, spreading Neosporin on his cheek and bandaging him up. You wrap gauze around his wrist and around his left knuckle which blooms red and purple hues. “Hmm. Boxer vibes.”

“I’m already healing,” he shrugs, looking down at the budding bruise on his chest. It’ss entering its stage of pale green already, which still freaks you out despite the fact you’d known about Spiderman for years. “Y’didn’t have to do all that. Thank you, though.”

“Anything for you,” comes out of your mouth without thinking. You try to stay casual with a tight smile but Peter’s eyes seem to flicker the slightest bit at your statement. You turn your heels to your bedroom to dig out some spare clothes of Peter’s that he tends to accidentally leave after he stays over. The habit has turned into him having his own drawer at your place. How domestic.

“You still going to that party?” Peter asks as he pulls on a pair of pants. Your back is turned, which is amusing for him considering how close you are. There was quite literally a picture of the two of you naked at the age of five on May’s mantle downstairs. However, he couldn’t help but notice how your eyes would mindlessly wander to his arms and stomach when he would talk to you lately. Maybe it was a fluke, but he liked — loved — holding your attention.

“What party?”

“The one at that senior’s house? I heard you talking about it with MJ.”

“Um, maybe, but I was too busy worrying about you, and I was under the impression that we were spending the night eating Chinese and watching horror movies. Why?”

“We should go.” You turn around and raise an eyebrow. Peter Parker liked socializing, you could say. He was enigmatic and adorable and easy to be around, but you know that he’d rather stay at home with his documentaries or Star Wars movies than getting shitfaced at a rando’s house.

“Peter, you just got the shit kicked out of you,” you mutter in disbelief.

“All the more reason,” he shrugs, walking past you to flop onto your bed. “You worry about me too much. Gotta let loose, babe.”

You scoff and roll your eyes. You always imagine yourself as a shadow compared to Peter, like a friendly apparition. Casper the ghost. It’s not that you’re an outcast — hell, Peter goes on and on about you to classmates and friends alike if they haven’t met you yet. You’ve never been friendless. But the thought of going to a party with Peter makes your stomach churn a bit. The few times you had, the two of you would be attached to the hip because of your shared shyness, but Peter’s evolved into someone who probably knew more people at university than you did. You didn’t want to be left alone. Slight anxiety settles over you. You look at him and his smile is pushing daisies up from the earth. You sigh. When you had said “anything for you”, you truly meant it.

___

You didn’t dislike parties, but any house party in the suburbs of New York felt like the setting of a bad rom-com, not to mention the good amount of losers you could attract by accidentally blinking their way.

“You look really pretty,” Peter whispers into your ear assuringly. You feel validated, yes, but also you’d be lying the feeling of Peter’s breath under your earlobe didn’t make your organs flip around in your body like primordial soup.

You frown at a mirror in the foyer. You had opted for a green printed mesh top that hugged your features, black jeans, and Peter’s old denim jacket. Peter follows your gaze and snakes a finger to your hair, twirling around a strand. “I mean it, Y/N.”

“AYYYY, PENIS PARKER!” roars from behind a couple making out. Lo and behold, Flash Thompson is suddenly in front of you, nestling a Corona in one hand and waving furiously at you both with another. He’s gotten taller somehow since the last time you saw him, which was quite literally graduation. You roll your eyes at his arrogance. To your surprise, Peter knocks fists with the kid and gives him a half-hearted side hug. “Oh shit, dude, what the fuck happened to your face?”

“This one right here gets a little too rowdy when she loses Monopoly,” Peter smiles, hanging an arm over your shoulders.

“Shut up,” you whisper, voice laced with venom as you shoot Peter a glare. “He’s lying. This one is just… incredible clumsy.”

“Jeez, she bite too? Hey, I know a guy who’s really into that kind of thing.”

“Okay, relax, Flash-your-tits,” you sneer.

“Wow, still the wicked witch of Forest Hills,” Flash retorts. His eyes scan you up and down, then to Peter’s arm around you. “Didn’t know you guys were a thing. When’d that happen?”

“We’re not—“ stumbles out of both your mouths in unison. Your face heats up immediately, though Peter is merely holding back a laugh.

“Right. Save your virginities, fellow comrades! It’s a scary world out there. ’s some liquor in the kitchen,” Flash slurs, immediately making eye contact with another poor soul who’s about to be subjected to a similar greeting.

“Freak,” you mutter under your breath as you saunter past a rowdy beer pong table. Without bothering to rummage through the stash that’s sat on the kitchen counter, you take the first bottle of cabernet sauvignon you see. Peter grabs a shot glass and pours himself some Tito’s.

He meets your eyes. “What?” he shrugs, knocking back the shot with a scrunched up face.

“Nothing, you just like, never drink,” you smirk. You decide to keep the wine for yourself — it was the cheap kind, anyway. You down a good amount so that you can get a little warmth into your stomach. The effect is slightly numbing.

“Yeah, but my metabolism’s all weird since the bite, remember? Surprised I haven’t tried to drink more. I think I’ve only been drunk like… once or twice?”

“Better go easy, there, Parker,” you tease, jabbing him in the ribs. He grunts just a bit and you gasp. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry.”

“Nah, ‘m only a little sore. I could still take you in a fight,” Peter snickers. He grabs a red solo cup and fills it with more Tito’s, not paying attention to the amount he pours in, and then fills it to the brim with some orange juice. You practically gag at the sight. Vodka was never your forté and you were sure that it wasn’t much of Peter’s thing either. And yet, here he is. You wonder about his out of character desire to come to the party but ultimately shrug it off.

___

Seeing it feels like a kick in the throat, your face flushing hot like molten lava, chest creaking like a wooden floor in a haunted house. You didn’t expect to get everything you wanted, did you? Of course not. So it shouldn’t hurt that much to walk outside in need of that crisp autumn air and accidentally be met with some blonde eating off the face of your best friend. The love of your life. You don’t remember what time it is. You actually don’t even remember that you had been looking for Peter at all, but the realization hits you in the face once you recognize his brunette little head getting his hair pulled by some Walmart-brand Blake Lively.

and god you’re so pretty

your smile’s unforgiving

i’ll place it where nobody can find

You’re in too much shock to even beckon to him, but you know that the gears in your brain are turning with bells and whistles shrieking abort, abort, abort, abort! Before you can so as much turn around, Peter pulls away from the girl and yells for you. His face is carnation-pink, lips reddish from the girl’s lipstick. He’s waving at you like a little kid but your head feels like it’s underwater.

“Hey! Y/N! Been looking all over for you!”

Embarrassed, you wave back meekly before sliding back into the house. You hear hushed whispers of “shit, was that your fucking girlfriend?”, maybe a mild slap, Peter mumbling the words “best friend” and “not dating” and “what was your name again?” You could laugh if you didn’t feel like a literal hole was burning into your chest like the end of a cigarette charring flesh.

Calm, calm, calm. We are calm.

You don’t even know what to do with yourself, really. Your mantra isn’t helping and if you take one more sip of your wine you might as well throw up. Your eyes flash in surprise at MJ walking towards you, smiling but then settling her face into a confused frown.

“Hey, Y/N, is everything alr—“ MJ attempted to intervene, but you smile and nod your head maniacally as you pace through the house past her.

“I’m great! Fine. Um, I gotta go…”

You and MJ aren’t as close as you were in high school, but she knows well enough what you’re like when you’re in a state of crisis. She calls your name but you’ve dashed out of her grasp. She stares after you, puzzled, right before Peter nearly knocks into her, a collision of whiplash. The poor brunette stares wildly at the boy.

“Jesus, Parker, are you good?”

“MJ! Hi!” Peter exhales. His eyes are the size of flying saucers. He grips MJ’s shoulders and doesn’t realize the volume of his voice, which makes spectators around them look on curiously. “Listen, have you seen Y/N? I gotta talk to her.”

“Um, yeah, she went that way… dude, are you drunk?”

“No! Yes? All of the above,” he replies hurriedly, moving into the foyer and up the stairs.

You can’t really explain your emotions, process them even, so you do give into the wine bottle. Might as well detonate the bomb. Before Peter can call after you, you escape his field of vision in the hallway and immediately slip into the upstairs bathroom without him seeing you.

You stare at your reflection. There’s no point in crying, you think. Peter’s too good at prying and you’re too bad at explaining. It’s best not to worry him. Isn’t it? You want to believe you’re capable of staying sane with your little crush. Your stupid unrequited crush. You realize you’d have to reach into your guts and rip out all that you feel for Peter in order to get over it. It was best to drown out all those feelings now until you passed out. Maybe Michelle could take you home. Or a kind stranger could seduce you. Or you ‘accidentally’ fall out of the window and escape Peter’s questioning by being in a literal coma for a few days so you can forget the image of him kissing that girl that’s burned into your brain.

You frown at your reflection. You look pretty, Peter was right. It’s a miracle your makeup is still intact. Your under-eye liner is smudged a bit but the glitter on your cheekbones reflects even with this shitty bathroom lighting. With the alcohol inside you, everything seems to melt, like the walls are sweating and closing in on you. Before you’re able to control your breathing, the sound of your name reaches your ears like a harsh wind. It’s coming from your favorite voice in the whole world. Pounding on the door ensues.

“Hey! Y/N?”

“It’s… it’s occupied, sorry,” you caution in a high voice.

“Y/N, I know that’s you in there! Can you please let me in?” Peter begs. More raps on the door. You stay silent, staring at the sink.

“Please, Y/N, something bad’s happened… MJ’s…um…” Peter yells. You furrow your brows in worry. God, I can’t get a break. What a cursed fucking party.

Profanities are mumbled to yourself as you finally open the door. Peter rushes in and backs you into the wall, shutting the door promptly behind him and locking it. You gasp at how quickly he manages this without the two of you colliding, his swift movement and your intoxicated state dizzies you. Peter settles his palms on the wall, trapping you in between his arms.

“What happened to Michelle?” you glower. Peter sighs with a look of defeat and avoids your gaze.

“Nothing. Just needed you to let me in.”

“You asshole,” you roll your eyes and vociferate. Your teeth are gritted — you can’t bear to look at his face, but you do. Peter’s puppy dog brown eyes are boring into yours with desperation behind them. He takes his palm from the left of you and tilts your chin up, to which you shake your head in rejection.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” So you do. Your faces are inches away from each other. You can feel his hot breath in your face. It makes your body feel even hotter.

“What do you want, Peter?” you whisper.

“Want to talk to you,” he slurs.

“Okay, so talk.”

“Why were you running away from me?”

You scoff. You almost want to tell him the truth, but you can’t. “I’m in a bad mood,” you mumble. “I don’t need this right now, okay? I want to be alone. Why don’t you go back to that blonde? She seems to like you an awful lot.”

“Who— what? Are you… are you jealous?”

“Who you take home is none of my business, Parker, I swear on my heart. I’m a big girl, I can get an Uber by myself. Don’t worry about it,” you spit back at him. “Okay? Can I be left alone, please?”

“But I wanna be alone with you,” he confesses, absentmindedly twisting your hair between his fingers again. You didn’t think anything of it until now because this is something he always does. It’s as easy to him as breathing or blinking. But at the moment, he’s staring at your collarbone and your neck and the side of your jaw. You make eye contact with him and you gulp. Lipstick is smeared from the corner of his mouth like a streak of wine on a white sheet. The space between you feels like television static, like a red string you’re dying to pull into a knot to close the distance.

Instead, Peter does it for you. You blink once and his mouth is on yours, and you taste the other girl’s lipstick and mandarin oranges and a hint of copper from his bloody lip. You breathe in the smell of your own shampoo, which Peter keeps in his apartment for you even though he secretly uses it when you’re not around. His hand is gripped to your jaw, tongue peeking into your mouth as he pushes into your body. The hurt inside you crawls out of your throat and spreads your body like a blessing instead — a baptism, a rebirth.

His hands are to your sides now, pushing the mesh fabric of your shirt up so he can palm the skin of your upper hip. You sigh into him as he massages the skin lightly and he responds to your sounds with a subtle moan. You feel like your knees are buckling to his touch as your heat gets wetter and wetter.

“Touch me, Y/N,” Peter whispers in between your kisses. A whine emits from the back of his throat when you tug on his hair just slightly.

You pull away suddenly, though Peter doesn’t see this as a halt. He simply peppers wet kisses to your earlobe and down your neck. You sigh deeply and give him a slight push to the chest.

“What, what’s wrong?” he whispers. He’s drunk on you, maybe literally considering he lost count of how many shots he’d taken. He looks like an angel like this, brown hair mussed up with smoothed out curls falling over his face and a just-bitten pair of pink lips.

You touch the band-aid on his face. “You’re drunk, Peter.”

“Yeah? I know. So are you.”

“That’s the problem. I don’t want you to regret anything,” you mumble, biting the inside of your bottom lip.

“I couldn’t… I won’t. You know how much I love you, right?” Peter pleads. He’s breathless at the sight of you. You look away.

“Don’t say shit like that, Peter. You’d… you’d never say that sober.” Hurt flashes over Peter’s face as he listens to your words. He wants you to believe him so badly and he’s too drunk to process what you could be feeling. All he feels is that he wants to be absorbed into you at this very moment. His brain doesn’t even register the actions that made you upset in the first place.

“That’s not true, Y/N, you know that,” he urges. His thumb swipes over your inner eye, where a salty tear has fallen. His voice is hoarse, raspy, raw. “I only want you.”

You close your eyes and shake your head, tears flooding your cheeks that he tries to kiss away gently. “Why are you doing this?” you croak.

“What am I doing, baby?” he whispers, taking you in his arms and cradling you. Your cheek is against his warm chest and you can feel his beating heart. It ticks like a clock, which somehow comforts you in the most minuscule way. His tender knuckles are in your hair, combing your locks softly. Peter wants to find every jagged piece of you so that he can soothe it like nighttime tea and a spoonful of honey. Would you hate him for it?

“This is fucked up, Peter.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” is whispered through hushed breaths against your hair. You pull back after a few minutes, embarrassed at how red your eyes must look. He cups his hands on your cheeks, tilting your face to look up at him. “I’m not lying to you. I… I love you so much that it scares me sometimes because you’re my best friend. I always get scared that I’m gonna lose you. And… and I don’t even know that girl. The one I was making out with. I think I just needed a distraction from you.”

An awkward beat.

“I don’t know why I got so drunk. I think because patrol was so fucked up and I’ve been having more nightmares, and I was scared that if I told you I loved you tonight that I’d fuck everything up, and I wouldn’t remember, and I couldn’t find you anywhere…”

You shush his rambles with your lips against his.

“I love you, too,” you whisper, wiping your eyes. “Always have. It scares me too.”

“Really?”

“Yes, you idiot, I thought it was obvious. You scare the shit out of me sometimes.” The two of you laugh darkly at your mutual drunken states. Your mutual confessions, the fear of your mutually assured destructions. The moment was making your heart swell up like a balloon.

A rude awakening breaks through with a pounding on the door. “HEY, ARE YOU GUYS DONE FUCKING? SOME OF US HAVE TO PISS.”

The two of you are broken out of your spell. You both erupt into laughter. You wipe your face with your sleeve as you open the door. Your toothy smile flashes the unfortunate spectator when you open the door.

Flash stands there with a look on his face that is both bewildered and dopey. His eyes flit between you and Peter, mouth agape.

“All yours, babe,” you taunt, holding Peter’s hand as he follows you across the hall.

___

i’ll be your old broken tv

your stuttering baby

your puppy when nobody’s home

He can barely take his hands off you once you get the door of your apartment unlocked. Immediately, his hands are all over you, pushing up your top to reveal your stomach. He kisses you roughly which has your head spinning.

“Peter… I—“ you giggle in-between kisses. He can’t detach himself from you. He doesn’t want to. He takes matters into his own hands and rips your jacket off for you, picking you up effortlessly so that your legs are around his waist until both of your bodies collapse into your bed.

You feel like you have motion sickness. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the uneasiness of letting yourself fall blind to Peter’s desires. He knows how stubborn you are about literally everything and he doesn’t know how to fully convince you how much he wants you. He’s hovering over your body, forehead to forehead, pawing at your clothed body. “You’re so pretty,” he says, thumbing your cheek.

His eyes are glistening like the earth wet from being kissed by autumn rain. You swear to yourself it’s just lust but you know this is exactly how he looks at you when you’re just there. Existing. In his room, on his lap, on his fire escape in the middle of the night. You’ve always noticed but decided you’ve made it up in your head. But he really does love you like this, vulnerable and soft like a cherub out of heaven. He could certainly get used to the sight of you underneath him. His mouth turns up into a grin.

“What’s got you so happy?” you coo.

“You,” he breathes, dipping his head back down to meet your mouth.

“Cool,” you mumble in between your kisses, sighing as you feel Peter massage little circles underneath the hem of your shirt. “What’re you thinking about?”

“Mmm, lots,” Peter sighs. “There’s this girl… thought she’d never… like me back. But I think she does.”

“Tell me about her.”

“Well, she’s a hard one to chase down, y’know? She’s too pretty and smart for literally anyone. And she’s really good at playing with my hair, and knowing everything I like, and beating me at wrestling. And she smells like flowers. And looks like flowers.”

“Hmm, sounds like a catch,” you flash him a candy-sweet smile. The glow between you two is bioluminescent. Every part of you that Peter touches feels like electricity.

“Mhm. That you are,” Peter nods. He’s feeling feverish, sobering up from his many shots but still drunk on the sight of you. In the past few months, Peter feels like he’s only present between peripherals and the only time he’s even remotely tuned in to the world is when you’re beside him. His mind is swamped with only you and your kiss tastes like honey dripping into his mouth.

A low hum reverberates from your throat as you feel Peter’s lips on your neck. He settles back to your lips like he’s diving underwater. He doesn’t care about coming back up for air. Your brows knit in concentration as you try to pull him closer, despite the fact he’s basically falling through you like fog. Your brain is begging him to devour you, burn you, lick up all the hurt inside your chest from the night.

“Can I touch you, please?” Peter asks carefully, his voice low, brain spell-bound.

You nod fervently, heart beating out of your chest when you’re suddenly aware of how hard he is. Peter helps you slip out of your shirt and your jeans, leaving you in your underwear. He can barely breathe. He chuckles like he’s seeing something that shouldn’t be possible.

“Don’t laugh when you just stripped me naked, freak,” you chastise, covering yourself up with your arms.

“‘m not teasing you. I’m… I just can’t believe it. How pretty you are.”

“Shut up and touch me, Parker.” Peter feigns a look of seriousness before attaching his lips to your bare stomach. He loves the way your body reacts to his touch, breaths rising and falling to the pitter-patter of his heartbeat and his fluttered eyelashes. He teases you with kisses close to your center and descending down your thighs. You whine at how sensitive you feel, coaxing his head forward with your hands.

“Okay, needy,” he taunts, which makes you whine in response. He slides your underwear down your legs and doesn’t hesitate to lap you up at your clit. You gasp in response. He’s ravenous in the way he works, responding to all your little sounds by gripping your thighs harder until you’re nearly bruising. Your mouth gapes open wider when he slides in one finger, then two into your pussy, your wetness making his entrance easy.

“Jesus, fuck, where did you learn that?” you ask breathlessly as he pumps his fingers in and out of you in all the right places.

“Secret,” he murmurs, pausing his sucking to curl his fingers into your walls in a way that makes your insides flip. You immediately feel a pressure inside your core that slowly rises like a rollercoaster rolling upwards on a track. He brings his tongue back to your bud and scissors his fingers in a way that makes your hips buck upwards, which makes him lose his balance a bit. He chuckles, adoring the sound of your moans and the way your long eyelashes blink rapidly like a butterfly’s wings.

“Say my name,” he groans, desperate to hear your voice.

“Fuck,” you moan. “Fuck— Peter, just like that. Oh my God, Peter!”

He decides right then that his name sounds like it was made for your mouth, how it sounds like a hymn, a magic spell, a word invented by you, his creator. You grab fistfuls of his chestnut curls as you feel your body plunge into saccharine warmth. You surprise yourself with your restrained moans; you don’t recognize the sound of your voice. Peter’s moans echo yours as he watches you come undone. His lips part at the way you come, gazing at the way your body flexes like a viscous liquid with your hair fanning the sides of your face like Juliet on a bed of roses.

“Peter!” you strain, breathing heavily on the comedown. You blink at him, bleary-eyed, tasting yourself on his tongue once he reaches up to kiss you again. “Take your clothes off. ’s not fair that I’m fully naked and you aren’t.”

“Anything for you,” he says, echoing your words from earlier that night. You think that maybe you’re melting or you’ve been struck by lightning. Peter blesses you for your request because his cock is quite literally straining against his jeans. He can’t believe you’re real — that this version of you is real and right in front of him, instead of being a dizzying made-up thought in his brain. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t fantasize about what your pussy feels like, how you’d sound with your toes curling into the mattress as he fucks into you. He’d always shake the thought of you after he comes when he’s alone, embarrassed after his orgasms when he’d come back to reality. But now he doesn’t have to. You’re fulfilling his dreams at this very moment.

Not even thirty seconds pass before he’s stripped just like you. Your mouth waters at the sight of him. You’re convinced he must be carved from Ancient Rome, porcelain skin and smooth edges. His size is certainly unexpected and you’re shy about how your eyes are probably bugging out of their sockets.

“Do you… do you want me to get a condom?” he asks you, voice cracking slightly. You’re reminded of how boyish he really is, how despite everything, he’s always been your Peter. Your puppy, your best boy. You nod at him and grin. “Right… ah— where are they?”

“Under the bed, blue shoebox.”

He comes back from under the bed and rips the silver foil. He toys with it for a second, awkwardly. “Ah, this is… a good brand. Very safe.”

“Yeah, good reviews?” you gush at his awkwardness.

“Like I’d know,” Peter blushes and shrugs. You know that Peter’s not a virgin but he’d never been the type to be cocky or promiscuous. It was you in senior year of high school who broke down where a woman’s clitoris was, after all. You playfully hit him, urging him to continue. He nods sheepishly.

“Wait, do you want me to… do you want head, too?” you ask curiously.

He shakes his head, sliding the condom onto his length. “No, ‘m okay. Just want to be inside you really bad.”

You kiss him hard, and to his surprise, you push him onto his back. His eyes widen at your shift in attitude and newfound dominance. His taut mouth widens when you push down onto him, going up and down at an agonizingly slow pace as you grip his shoulders. “Oh, fuck.”

You respond graciously with a breathy sigh, eyes closed as you grind against him. “Fuck, that feels really good,” he whispers. “Gonna be the death of me.”

“That’s why they call it la petite mort, yeah?” you smirk. You start to grind faster and Peter’s eyes screw shut, mouth slack in a blissful fashion. He grips your hips harder and gives your ass a light smack as he groans.

“Ass man, aren’t you?” you tease. “Figured you were more into tits.”

“Can’t talk, feels too good,” Peter mumbles. He palms your breast with one hand in response to you, which makes you giggle. “Please don’t tease me at a vulnerable time like this.”

Your laughter is like music to his ears. He looks at you with a dark expression on his face, a sort of pained desperation that secretly begs you to wreck him. He wishes he could tell you that you could have him in any way possible, but he figures that the enormity of his desire would scare you away. Peter caresses your cheek and your head lulls backward at the elation of him inside you. Teasing a finger on your bottom lip, you take his finger into your mouth and you suck on it gently. He feels like he’s about to lose it. It’s a miracle he’s even lasting this long, he thinks to himself. He swore he almost came when he was just giving you head.

“Jesus fucking christ,” Peter breathes. The aura of you is everywhere in the room, the smell of your skin permeating his senses. He can’t get enough. You’re surprised by how vocal he is and it kind of makes you feel a bit cocky. His lips are slick and swollen from your love bites and you can’t help but admire how he looks underneath, curls loose over his warm forehead.

“Fuck, hold on. Can I do something?” he asks, his eyes doe-like. You nod quickly. “Can, um, can you get on your stomach?”

You oblige to his request, getting off from his lap and sinking into the bed, ass up. You nearly choke when he fills you up from behind, his hands cradling your hips. He’s slow with his thrusts at first, wanting to be careful to both control himself and to make sure he doesn’t hurt you. He reaches you at a deep angle and you nearly scream out, which encourages Peter to rock his hips a bit faster.

“Oh my god, Peter!”

Your head twists slightly so you can see his face. He reaches over immediately to kiss you, holding you by the chin forcefully as he pulls your hips towards him. His hand stays wrapped around your throat as he bends over to pepper kisses to your neck and down your back. A finger rests on your bottom lip that you take into your mouth. He moans at the feeling of it.

“Fuck, you’re gonna… make me come soon…” you breathe. You whine as he pulls your hair slightly to get better access to the side of your neck.

“Fuck, I fucking love you,” Peter pants. His breath is hot beneath your ear and it makes you shiver. His hushed curses are like little love notes spilling onto your shoulder. “My favorite girl.”

Your face falls into your bedsheets once he hits your sweet spot repeatedly. Your whole body vibrates at the feeling of it as you grip your sheets hard enough to strain your knuckles. Tears are pricking from the corners of your eyes on impact. Your orgasm is white-hot, blinding, paradisiacal.

“Hey, hey, hey, are you okay?” Peter whispers worriedly, slowing down his strokes and wiping your face gently.

“Yes,” you moan, shutting him up with a kiss. He pulls out of you and melts into your lips, the wave of your orgasm and the tenderness in your chest igniting a small fire in the pit of your stomach. The two of you are side by side now, limbs entangling one another in a blob of lust and warm bodies and languished breaths. He’s confused at your husky laughter but stays attached to your mouth, tasting you in all your sugared glory. The taste of blood pools into your mouth again and you pull back slightly. You lick his bottom lip carefully, lacing his mouth with your sweetness.

You smile devilishly at the red marks on his neck, marks that you left. He rubs his neck and it’s like he’s blushing all over, because he knows that although he’ll complain about the hickies in the morning, he feels blessed to have any remnants of you on his body. A burn, a bruise, a red stamp on his forehead with your name on it. He doesn’t care.

“You wanna stop?” he questions. He traces shapes on your hip, then letters. I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U.

You shake your head and nuzzle his neck. “No, I want you to come. I want to see your face when you come inside me.”

The alcohol has definitely worn off but he still feels intoxicated in your presence. How can someone look like that? he wonders. You’re underneath him now, bright-eyed in anticipation. He licks his lips, amber eyes wide like a puppy. He wants to come — no, needs to — but he's also entertaining the idea of holding himself in so he can hear you orgasm ten more times.

“C’mon, Spidey,” you whisper, pulling his length towards you. He slides in slowly and exhales like it’s the first time again. You sigh dreamily, eyelashes fluttering at the halcyon feeling of warmth inside you. You feel so fucking full. Your nails dig into his muscular back as he moves faster, and the feeling is so euphoric that you’re sinking your teeth into his shoulder to muffle your screams.

“Oh, shit,” Peter sputters, whispering your name like it’s a poem he’s memorized. You nearly are a poem he’s memorized and it feels like heaven and more that he’s able to experience your body in this capacity — every inch, every curve. He’s about to be pushed to the edge once he hears you stutter his name mindlessly.

“Peter, Peter, Peter… f-fuck… gonna come again…”

Your back arches as shockwaves course through your body and suddenly Peter is gripping you from your hair to your shoulder hard enough to almost hurt in the best way possible. His knees buckle as he releases his come into you and you’re coming up for air after hearing his guttural moans and whines.

“Ffffuuuuckkkk,” Peter cries out, murmuring your name over and over like it’s the only word he knows.

You clutch his body like he’s a fallen hero (ha ha) and push the hair from his forehead, pecking him with kisses all over his face. His face is warm and so is his smile — so pretty, so unforgiving.

“We should do that, like, all the time,” he sighs, flopping his head onto your chest. You giggle, pulling him in your arms. His body is like a weighted blanket. He purrs at the feeling of your fingers through his hair.

“Definitely.”

___

i’ll be your cigarette ashtray

come back when it’s too late

worship you til morning comes

It was an annoying habit of yours. For some reason, your biological clock decided that when you got really drunk, you wouldn’t sleep in. Instead, like clockwork, you’d wake up at the crack of dawn.

Your eyes squint at your phone. 7:09 am. You groan, turning your body away from the sunrise that was perching itself higher and higher into the sky. The body next to you stirs at your movements, mumbling something unintelligible and laying an arm over your frame.

Your eyes flutter open to see Peter’s face, angelic and blue-tinged in the dimness of your room. His breaths are slow and quiet. You want to trace his cheekbones and his slightly crooked nose but you’re afraid to wake him, so you settle for a longing gaze.

“Morning,” he whispers, making you wince. His eyes are still closed but his mouth turns upwards into a smile.

“Sorry. Did I wake you?”

“Maybe, but I’m a light sleeper.” His pupils are blown out and black when he opens his eyes. He takes his hand and strokes your hair, inching over to your face and peppering a chaste kiss to your nose. He waits a second, then gives you a more passionate kiss on the mouth.

“Mmm. Morning breath,” you chuckle lightly.

“Hey,” he pouts. “That’s not how I like to be dirty-talked.”

You’re used to waking up next to Peter but the sight of him now is something new. He’s grown into his body and the way he looks naked right now, wrapped in your comforter… it’s like an alternate universe fr you. The sound of his morning voice is slightly raspy and low and you absolutely adore it.

“‘m not getting you off right now,” you mumble. “Make me breakfast first.”

He groans dramatically. He pulls you closer so that your nose is nestled into his warm chest. “Nope. Haven’t slept in like twenty-six hours, baby. Sweet dreams.”

[trentaafcsblog]

Midnight Memories

Mason Mount

This isn’t like him at all. Trapped in a crowd of drunk and disorderly people who are staggering around to the beat of the music, sloshing their drinks all over one another when the pink and purple strobe lights descend upon their bodies and start flashing in a series of random patterns, enhancing their alcohol-induced illusions and perceptions of the world as they flail their limbs around and claim they’re flying or walking on clouds - a stage that Mason isn’t willing to reach tonight, or any night, for that matter. 

A sea of girls in overly tight dresses and heels that barely support them crowding around him and slurring things in his ear. Running their fingers up his bare arms and begging for another drink as he awkwardly shakes his head and tries to break away from them, only for another person to grip onto him from the other side and smear their cheap sticky lipgloss all over his neck in an attempt to add ‘I kissed a footballer’ to their CV. “Just kiss meee” they whine, pouting in his face and trying to pull him closer before giving up and making a move on the next available man, one who’s willing to explore their mouths and buy them endless rounds of multicoloured shots for the rest of the night without gently shoving them away or not-so-subtly avoiding their alcohol-coated lips.

This isn’t your type of place either, although you’re five cocktails deep into the stack of pornstars that your friends insisted on ordering. A stain down the front of your white bodycon dress thanks to an escapee half a passion fruit that decided to leave your triangular glass in order to explore the vomit-tainted floor. Your lips all patchy now that your lipgloss has migrated to decorate the rim of your empty glasses with sparkly nude smudges, although you’re slightly relieved because it means that your hair won’t get coated in it anymore, and it minimises the evidence if you end up kissing someone too, not that you came here to do that, or risk putting yourself in the same category as the girls that are now trying to climb into the VIP section with a bunch of semi-famous people, all because they want a drunk kissing video to plaster across their social media, hoping that it takes them to the front of the papers in the morning for being such-and-such’s ‘mystery girl’.

You’re looking up at the VIP area cordoned off by security guards in black puffer jackets and walkie talkies in their hands, feeling an overwhelming sense of empathy for all of the people that have to tolerate that kind of behaviour. Your eyes start scanning across the section of the club that is far too expensive for just a few hours’ stay, wondering if you can recognise any famous faces, but it’s just the ‘I lasted one day in the Villa and still managed to secure a Pretty Little Thing brand deal’ Love Islanders and the friend of the friend of the friend of a semi-professional footballer that made one twelve minute appearance for Arsenal back in 2010 and thinks he’s God’s gift. All of them either eating each other’s faces or taking boomerangs of them cheers-ing their margaritas before having to retake the same video five times because they’ve lost several lime slices in the process and it’s ruining the aesthetic. Your focus sharpening on someone with their back to you and at least ten girls around them, taking it in turns to have a drunken selfie or begging him to buy them a bottle of champagne with one of those fancy sparkler things on the top that gets brought out by women wearing elaborate carnival-inspired feather headbands and very revealing dresses. And you can’t help but feel sorry for him because you can tell just from the back of his head that he’s incredibly uncomfortable, even more so when he gets offered a blowjob from a girl who’s now threatening to get her boobs out in exchange for a whole bottle of Don Julio, in a bucket of ice, just how she likes it.

He’s turning around to face the rest of the club just as you go to look away at the menu that’s being wafted under your nose by one of your friends, and you can’t help but do a double take at his familiarity. Squinting your eyes so that you can get a better look at his features. ‘Nice drink’ you think when your eyes catch the glass of Diet Coke in his hand, quite obviously not accompanied by a swig of vodka going by his incredibly tense frame and stiff dance moves. Well, it’s not really dancing, it’s more of a ‘I’ll just copy what my friends are doing so I don’t look awkward’ move, aka a two-step shuffle from one side to the other. You can’t help but giggle as you watch him from across the room, your friends completely giving up on trying to entice you with a selection of expensive cocktails as they leave you to stare at some random man on the other side of the club, their need for a second stack of bright coloured drinks clearly overriding the want to look out for their friend.

You’re watching him for a bit longer. Becoming completely fixated on this familiar stranger who you can’t help but sit and giggle at. Part of you wanting to cringe with him at how hellish this night has become, but at the same time, it’s kind of funny watching someone who should be so used to having a large following blush and laugh awkwardly if anyone happens to recognise him. Okay, maybe it’s slightly uncomfortable to sit and watch a swarm of girls attack him with their overdrawn lips whilst he does everything in his will to not shove them into next week, especially when his friends start laughing and taking little videos of the awkward encounters, clearly ready to embarrass him at a later date. But regardless, it’s nice to know that fame hasn’t gone completely to his head, unlike an ex-reality TV star who’s screaming ‘do you know who I am?’ at one of the bouncers who won’t let her hang out with her ‘friends’ in the VIP section.

But you’re quickly forced out of your trance when you feel somebody shoving something into your hand. Looking down at your palm and clocking the ten pound note before your eyes are lifting to the hand that it’s been given from. “Go and get us those cocktails” your friend slurs before slumping back in her seat and falling to one side slightly, her pink lipstick slathered all over her chin from where she’d tried to apply it without a mirror when a man wearing an extremely tight fitting top happened to settle down in the booth next to you, obviously hoping that he’d look her way. “Hurry up, I’m thirstyyy” your other friend whines, making you sigh and mutter something under your breath in reference to them being lazy and ruining your evening, as you slide out of the row of pink arched seats and stand up. Having to grip onto the back of the chairs when your legs go all warm and fuzzy from the one too many cocktails you’d already consumed, pulling your dress down to a more appropriate length before heading off in the direction of the bar. Trying to catch a glimpse of Mason as you swerve in and out of the sea of dancing bodies, but you just end up feeling as though you’re going to fall to the floor when the strobe lights start spinning on the ceiling before dispersing their blue and green beams around the room at the most ridiculous speed. Everybody around you swaying from side to side and elbowing you in the ribs as you try your best to dodge them, kicking yourself for wearing the most stupid pair of heels as your toes crush into each other more and more with each step, cursing when you skid in a puddle of what looks like - or at least you hope is - vodka, and you have to grab onto a stranger’s arm to steady yourself, much to their dismay until they catch a glimpse of your apologetic face and suddenly want to make out with you.

You’re breathing a sigh of relief when you finally make it to the bar, setting your bag down on the counter and ordering what you think your friends want, although you probably should have double-checked with them first considering you were too busy having a nosy at someone across the club to pay any sort of interest to their alcohol preferences. “What?” you’re shouting at the barman when he tells you the total of the drinks, hoping that you’ve misheard him but ten pounds clearly isn’t going to cover the cost of sixteen cosmopolitans with added shots of vodka. Panicking when he repeats the price and turns his back to get started on making them, your hands now frantically searching your bag in the hope that you manage to find the extra money before he starts yelling at you for ordering things without being able to pay. “Fuck” you’re hissing as you turn the contents of your bag out onto the countertop, checking the inside of your phone case and a pressed powder incase they happen to house the remaining money. Your heartbeat pounding louder in your ears the closer it gets to having to admit that you’ve actually only got a quarter of what you need. 

“I’ll get it” someone’s saying, clearly sensing the tension between you and the barman as you shrug your shoulders in response to him sticking his hand out for the money. “I’m not a charity” you snap back, your slightly tipsy state giving you a rush of confidence as you continue to search your bag in the hope that the money has magically appeared just so that you can laugh it off and shut everyone up. “I know, but it’s on me” they’re saying again, leaning forward and tapping their card on the machine before you can even consider fighting back a second time. “Thank-” you’re starting before realising who it is that’s just saved you from an incredibly awkward situation. Surely not. Surely Mason Mount hasn’t just bought you, of all people, a load of cocktails for your mates.

“It’s okay” he laughs nervously, making your heart melt because clearly he’s just as awkward around you as he is everybody else in this club. “Prices have gone up, haven’t they?” he smiles as he takes a step closer to you, propping himself up on the countertop with his elbows before asking the barman for a lemonade, with ice, just so it isn’t too fizzy. “Yeah, I don’t normally come out so I underestimated it a bit” you laugh shyly before looking off in the other direction, simultaneously cursing and thanking your friends for leading you to believe that you could get sixteen cocktails for a tenner, because without their stupidity, you wouldn’t be talking to the boy that you’ve been watching all night. “Prefer to stay at home then?” he asks as you turn back and nod your head. “Me too” he’s saying, “I’m normally in bed by now” he giggles as his gaze rises to the clock above the bar, the time reading 00.04am. The slight dark glow under his eyes letting you know that he’s normally tucked up by 9pm in his pyjamas. “What are you doing here then?” you ask. Stupid question really. He’s here for the same reason that you, and probably half of the people here, are - he’s been dragged along and forced to pretend that he’s a right party animal whilst he sips his non-alcoholic drinks and fights off every woman in sight. “My mates made me tag along, I’m kind of glad they did now though” he’s telling you, the second part of his sentence almost becoming inaudible as his voice quietens just as the volume of the music rises with the chorus of ‘My Yé Is Different’, ironic since you’ve just spotted the twenty grand watch decorating his wrist whilst you’re stood there in a passion fruit stained dress. But you’re still managing to hear it, and you can’t work out whether that’s in reference to you, or the fact that he’s been able to drink fizzy drinks when he’d normally only have water. Except you’re not stupid. 

“Bet you say that to everyone” you tease, gaining his attention again as he laughs nervously and shakes his head. “Only the special ones” he replies, which is true, but now you can’t help but wonder if his drinks have been accompanied by a few shots of something or another because those words and the sincerity of his tone aren’t a reflection of the awkward man you spotted ten minutes ago, let alone the fact that he clearly considers you to be one of these ‘special ones.’ “Yeah, yeah” you’re saying back, flicking your hair over your shoulder before taking a sip of one of the cocktails that are sat before you, still waiting to be taken back to your friends. “Got quite a few drinks for somebody that doesn’t go out much, no wonder you needed me to pay” he winks as you roll your eyes and blush at the thought of somebody having to give you a helping hand with the price. “This is my last one, I’m off in a minute cose I can’t keep up with everyone else” you’re shouting over the music, watching him throw his head back and laugh because he thought he was the only one in that position. “I’ll join you” he’s replying, thanking the barman for his drink before taking a sip through the straw. “Not the sort of thing you say to a girl after only knowing her two minutes, Mason” you’re teasing, studying his face as his eyes blow wide slightly and he shakes his head, quickly swallowing his lemonade before stuttering on his words. Unsure whether he’s panicking about you jokingly misinterpreting his comment, or if he’s uncomfortable over the fact that yet another girl knows his name, but either way, he’s laughing awkwardly when you tell him that you’re only messing. 

“I wouldn’t mind though” you say smugly, causing another nervous giggle to escape his lips. Your alcohol-induced confidence only adding to the butterflies that are already batting their wings against his rib cage, something about your slight feistiness and sarcastic sense of humour attracting him to you, even more so when he takes in how beautiful you still look despite being on the verge of your alcohol limit.

“Where are you going afterwards?” he’s asking once the lights have swivelled around in the opposite direction and the blush on his cheeks isn’t so evident. “I’ll just go to the chippy down the road and then get a taxi home” you’re telling him, looking down into the fluorescent pink concoction in your glass and feeling your stomach churn at how rough it’s going to make you feel in the morning. “Mind if I join you?” he’s asking as you look across at him in disbelief, watching as he downs the last few sips of his drink and stands the glass back on the countertop. Is this a dream or something? “Sorry, that was a bit forward...again” he panics, feeling a surge of anxiety run through his body incase he’s greeted with newspaper headlines in the morning about him unintentionally trying to latch onto girls that aren’t interested in him, even if half of the club know his name. 

“No, it’s fine, of course you can” you laugh, your cocktail glass almost slipping out of your grip thanks to the layer of sweat that is now developing across your palm. “I’ll just take these over to the girls and then I’ll be ready” you smile, looping the strap of your bag over your shoulder and grabbing as many glasses as you can, which really isn’t a wise move since you’ve partially lost all sense of coordination thanks to Mason’s ability to wipe any drop of confidence out of your body and replace it with nervous butterflies. 

“I’m off” you’re announcing once you’ve made your third trip back to the booth your friends are sitting in, their drunken reactions to your words making you giggle as you reach over them to grab your jacket. “Where are you goinggg?” one of them whines, gripping onto your leg and pouting before another one is drawn to the verge of tears at your confession. “I’m just tired” you nod, blowing them all a kiss and ensuring that they text you when you’re home as you turn around and head off towards the exit, not wanting to keep Mase waiting any longer. Praying that he’s stood just around the corner outside as he’d promised as you stagger across the dance floor and dodge a sea of flailing limbs and slurred shouts of ‘can I get your number?’. A sigh of relief forcing itself out of your nostrils when the ‘exit’ sign hanging above one of the fire doors becomes within touching distance and the bouncer in charge anticipates your departure, pushing down the grey bar across the middle of the door and letting it swing open, enabling you to step out into the night.

“There you are” you smile as you approach the back of his figure, his head kept down and a cap adding a nice accessory to his outfit, although it’s definitely worn as some form of disguise. “Hi” he’s smiling nervously when he realises that it’s you, a swarm of butterflies invading his tummy again when you link your arm through his and gently rest your head on the top of his shoulder - a move that you’re aware might push you into the same category as the other girls that have been after him all night, but your crippled feet and wobbly legs are grateful for the extra stability, even if your motivation to make that move takes you both by surprise. 

“Let me get this” you’re saying once you’ve made your way into the kebab shop, your arm dropping away from his as you gesture towards the table up against the front window. “You sure?” he’s asking, dipping his hand into his back pocket ready to pull his wallet out just incase, but you’re nodding and confirming that you’re more than capable of paying four-pound-fifty for a kebab and a couple of drinks - just as well really after the events earlier this evening. Giving him a small smile as he turns and heads off towards the table in the corner, his celebrity instincts kicking when he takes the seat right in front of the glass, conveniently covered by a sticker of the menu, and some extra protection offered from the back of his body. 

You’re setting the gold foam kebab box down on your table for two, along with two plastic forks, a bottle of water and a Fruit Shoot because you noticed him eyeing them up in the fridge when you came in. And it turned out to be one of the hardest decisions of your life trying to work out what flavour he wanted. Maybe it was the alcohol that was messing with your brain, making you think that he was more of an citrus guy than a berry one. Or maybe it was the fact that you were buying a child’s drink for a fully grown adult, a famous one too, who probably hasn’t had one for ten years, which only added to the pressure. Or maybe it was because you liked him and you didn’t want to ruin your chances by getting him the wrong flavour. But after flicking your gaze between the stack of bright coloured bottles and his body cowering away in the corner, you settled for the blackcurrant one, just because he looks like the type of person to play it safe - well, he is the type of person to play it safe, going by his Diet Coke and lemonade choices tonight. 

“This for me?” he’s asking as he picks the purple bottle up, smiling when you nod to confirm his answer. “How did you know this was my favourite flavour?” he’s questioning, a smug look appearing on your face as you shrug your shoulders and reply with ‘only the ‘special ones’ know that kind of information’. A giggle escaping his mouth at your words before he’s pulling the plastic lid off the drink and taking a sip, humming at the familiarity despite not having one since his seventh birthday party. “Still as good as they used to be” he’s saying, something about the additional happiness that’s now surging through his body after a drop of blackcurrant juice making your tummy fill with butterflies because he really is just the cutest, biggest child.

You’re both sitting in a comfortable silence as you pick at your shared kebab, trying to eat from separate ends so that you don’t cross any boundaries or run the risk trying to stab your forks into the same piece of chicken. But the fuzzy filter that the alcohol has brought to your eyes and the slight delay that it’s caused between your thoughts and your actions means that you find yourself diving into the last piece of pitta bread just at the same time that Mason does. And from his side it’s a poor judgement call. The sugar from his Fruit Shoot clearly giving him an extra boost of energy and causing his arm to extend outwards towards the polystyrene box, clouding his mum’s reminder that ‘you need be a gentleman and let girls eat whatever’s left, even if you want it’. And truth be told, he doesn’t really want it, which is why the pang of anxiety as soon as his plastic fork clashes with yours is stronger than ever. His cheeks turning a violent shade of crimson as he quickly pulls his fork back, leaving just four little holes from where the prongs had been as you panic and do the same.

“Sorry, no you have it” he says quietly, nudging the box towards you in the hope that you get the hint. “No, you eat it” you smile, pushing it back towards him. The two of you just repeating the same movement as the box moves two centimetres one way, and then two centimetres back the other. “Mason, just eat it!” you whine as he sits opposite you and shakes his head. “I said you could have it” he smiles nervously, subtly wiping the sweat off his palms and onto the material of his jeans when he realises that you’re staring straight into his eyes. “Why are you getting all nervous for? Just eat ittt” you groan, a giggle escaping his lips because there’s no way you’re backing down on this one. “Fine” he huffs, stabbing his fork back into the little holes that it made earlier before slowly moving it towards his mouth. Your eyebrows raising more and more as you watch it edge closer to his lips. And then he’s doing the unthinkable and quickly changing the direction of his fork so that it starts heading towards your mouth instead. Involuntarily parting your lips whilst you wait for what’s just happened to register, and the next thing you know, you’re swallowing the piece of pitta bread. 

“What a fuss about nothing” he hums as you roll your eyes at him. “You’re quite romantic, aren’t you?” you tease as his eyebrows furrow in the middle, waiting for you to clarify your comment. “Is that all of the alcohol that’s made you so desperate to share the last piece of food with me?” you question, another layer of blush painting itself across the tops of his cheeks. “Oh, sorry, you didn’t have anything to drink, did you? Lightweight” you smirk, making him roll his eyes this time. “I’m just being a gent, plus you’ve been drinking so you need something to sober you up, maybe it’ll stop you being so rude next time I offer to buy you a drink” he says smugly, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in the chair. A wave of composure washing over him now that he’s left you slightly speechless and he’s matched your sense of humour. “Next time? You’ll be lucky” you sass as he scoffs at you. “You’re the one that needs to buy me a drink to apologise for snapping at me, so there will be a next time to call it quits, thank you” he smiles, his sudden burst of confidence talking to you allowing his real personality to shine through, and you can’t help but start to get lost in it. “Was I really that rude?” you ask, secretly dying as you think back to your ‘I’m not a charity’ comment at the bar. “No, I’m just messing” he laughs, eliciting the same response from you as you erase that memory out of your brain. “You’re just confident, I like it” he’s saying, the last part of his comment getting lost when a group of people come staggering through the door, drowning out his words for the second time tonight, but you’re ninety-nine percent certain you managed to catch it. And now you’re the nervous one.

You’re quickly moving the conversation on to something else when you feel your chest starting to heat up with anxious prickles. Mason going all funny inside because it’s clear that he has the same effect on you as you do him, but he’s trying to push that to the back of his mind as he listens to you rambling on about your favourite breed of dogs, and how you had a fish finger sandwich for tea before you came out tonight, and how you actually know quite a lot about football but you’re reluctant to bring it up because you don’t want to embarrass him, although your drunken state causes you to let a few football facts slip out, all of them relating to Mase but you’re too caught up in your fuzzy alcoholic state to even recognise. But he does, obviously. Finding it sweet how you know exactly how many appearances he’s made for Chelsea, and what minute he came on in his debut against Manchester United, and what colour boots he wore against last season’s match against Newcastle. Just sitting back and letting you talk in between the occasional swig of water, hardly being able to get a word in edgeways because the alcohol is well and truly running through your veins now, making you come out with all kinds of mismatched comments and slurs. But he doesn’t mind, which takes him by surprise a bit, especially as he’s secretly scared of drunk people and he can count the amount of times he’s felt a bit tipsy on one hand, but there’s something different about you. Maybe it’s your sense of humour and how you’ve got him in stitches, or how your drunken state leads you to be more concerned about the welfare of a stray cat outside than it does anything else on the planet, or maybe it’s how deep beneath that strong outer shell you’re protecting yourself with that he knows you’ve got a heart of gold, an inside of ‘pure mush’ as his mum would say. 

“What time is it?” you slur after knocking back your last swig of water. “Nearly one o’clock” Mason’s replying, glancing at his overly-expensive watch as you sit there and wonder how he actually knows what hour of the day it is when all of the numbers have been replaced by diamonds. “Better head off” you mumble, staring blankly into the empty kebab box and trying to process what move you need to make next in order to get yourself back home in one piece. “I’ll order you a cab if you want, or I’ll walk you back, I don’t know how far away you live” he’s saying, forcing you out of your trace as you look up at his tired, bloodshot eyes. Knowing full well that as soon as you’re gone he’ll be running home to bed with a glass of water to tone down the bubbles in his tummy from his fizzy drinks, paranoid incase they give him a fizzy version of a hangover. “I live about half an hour away and I can tell you’re ready for bed so I’ll go with the cab” you smile, making him giggle nervously at the fact that his tiredness has been uncovered, although it’s not difficult to pick up on the fact that the only other time he stays up this late is on New Years Eve, and even then he normally sets an alarm for 11.57pm so that he can wake up from his nap in time.

You’re letting him help you put all of your belongings back into your handbag after you insisted on showing him your favourite lipgloss midway through your earlier conversation. Linking your arm through his and stepping out into the coldness of the night, a breeze nipping across your legs and causing you to let out a little squeal as you start pulling your dress down to try and hide your goosebumps. “Here” Mason’s saying, taking his jacket off and draping it over your shoulders. “Mase” you’re replying. Mase - he likes that, and he likes how naturally it’s left your mouth too. Trying to give it back to him but he’s adamant that you keep it. “Gives me another reason to see you in order to get it back” he winks, making you roll your eyes as you stand snuggled into his side on the edge of the pavement. 

“Did you want my number?” he’s asking, already taking his phone out of his pocket and holding it out in your direction before you even have chance to respond. “You’ve not really given me an option have you?” you laugh, making him giggle as he shuffles awkwardly from side to side, waiting for your digits to appear on the screen. “Only because I need to give your jacket back, there’s no other reason for this” you tell him, smiling as he nods his head but you both know that’s a little white lie. “There you go” you’re saying, passing his phone back to him as his eyes study the new contact in his hand. A new number written beneath Y/N. 

‘Shit’ he’s thinking. He didn’t even ask for your name before this. Awkward. 

“Pretty name” he smiles, trying to play it off cool, but you’re not drunk enough to not notice his mistake. “So pretty that you didn’t even know that’s what I was called until now” you reply, making him giggle and let out an awkward ‘oops’. “I’ll let you off this once” you’re saying as you look up at him stood beneath the lamppost that’s towering above the two of you. A golden glow adding a filter to his face and making him look even more gorgeous than he did when he was sipping his lemonade in the club and shoving lettuce and chicken into his mouth. And you’re desperate to just kiss him, especially since he’s got a bit of dried Fruit Shoot in the corner of his mouth and you know his lips will taste all sweet like they do in the movies. But considering he’s only just learnt your name you don’t think it’s the right time, and there’s also a bunch of Tottenham fans making their way up the street, not wanting to have to make him endure any teasing, especially when he’s already stayed up late in a part of town he wouldn’t usually be seen dead in to spend time with you. 

“Thanks for tonight” you whisper as you briefly rest your head on his shoulder, pulling it away when the taxi he’s ordered for you appears at the side of the curb. “My pleasure, thank you” he’s saying back, removing his protective hand from the small of your back and stepping forward to open the back door of the car for you. “Told you that you were a gent” you tease as he mumbles ‘shut up’ and pretends to shove you into the back seat with a giggle. “See you soon for that jacket, yeah?” he winks as you reply with ‘yeah yeah, whatever’, making him let out a little chuckle as he closes the door on you. Giving you an awkward little wave as you head off down the street, standing and waiting for your car to turn the corner before heading home himself. Leaving just a message of ‘thank you again, can’t wait to get my jacket back cose it’s freezing without it ;) x’ that’s just appeared on your screen connecting the two of you. And even if you have been slightly tipsy tonight and now can’t remember half of the things you spoke about, there genuinely doesn’t seem like a better person to sit in a kebab shop with in the early hours of the morning after stumbling across him by pure chance a club that neither of you particularly wanted to spend the night at. Thanking your lucky stars for allowing your paths to cross because you already know this is the start of something special. Very special.

[seleneprince]

(I certainly did not offer to write it because i don't have either the motivation or the fluitness in english language to do so but i'll be more than happy to read it instead, because i'm a disaster like that)

there's a homophobic undercurrent to a lot of the marauders' bullying of snape - the nickname "snivellus", for example, is based in the idea of snape being improperly masculine - which endures into the adult lupin and sirius' relationship with him [sirius' comment about snape being lucius malfoy's "lapdog" is him insinuating a sexual relationship between them in which snape is implied to be the receptive partner; lupin obviously thinks that snape would regard being made to cross-dress as humiliating and emasculating].

I couldn't agree more. It makes me laugh how the marauders fandom in general paint them as this super LGTBQ+ coded/defensors that stood up for minorities, when in canon it's been clearly shown that they were the typical misogynists, straight white cismen jerks that could be expected from a boarding school in the 70s. Their main "reason" to attack Severus and insult him was because of his femenine traits and how he didn't fit in the standard "definition of masculinity". It's hilarious, because for all the hatred they show to Snape by painting him as a terf/homophobic in most of their fics, he's actually the only character that's canonically queer coded and suffers for it (besides Dumbledore ofc).

And it's so delicious to imagine the potential of how the snupin dynamic would be this way. With Lupin dealing with heavy internalized homophobia and his own perception of sexual identity and masculinity, influenced by his time with the marauders, and suddenly finding himself attracted to severus snape, this androgynous looking boy that doesn't fit at all in what society expects a man to be, that wears robes resembling more of a femenine style and whose caligraphy is particularly femenine (this is canonically stated by hermione herself when she sees it). Imagine that he deals with it by being the biggest asshole towards him on their school years, partaking in the marauders pranks against him because he hates him, hates what he's making him feel. And while I don't think he knew about the Shrieking Shack's prank Sirius had, he's obviously not really sorry for it or the slightest remorseful. Hell, he probably used it to taunt snape even more for the remaining of school time.

Times passed and they're adults now, both teachers, and not only their methods clash terribly against each other, but snape is absolutely terrified of him. but jokes on him, he's forced to brew wolfsbane and bring it to him, personally, so they have to see each other anyway. I bet the bastard was enjoying every minute of it, seeing severus being put in that position, knowing well of his feelings. lupin's fixation towards snape returns when they become co-workers, and now he spends his time taunting him and getting under his skin, enjoying how snape avoids him like the plague and squirms when he's too close. he's scared of him, he resents him, and lupin knows some part of what he's doing is wrong, but when has that ever stopped him?

otherwise, i just love the snupin dynamic if it remained close to canon, with severus being the established queer character since his school days and lupin struggling to accept his own queerness, so he takes out his frustration by being an asshole.

Heyy, just came back from reading your analysis for remadora and snupin, and I just wanted to say THANK YOU for speaking the truth no one else seems to aknowledge.

First of all, Tonks is a queen and neither Remus or Sirius held a candle against her. I agree that their relationship wasn't at all perfect, that there were many topics to be discussed and explored there, and let's be honest, Remus isn't exactly healthy boyfriend material, regardless of his age.

Which takes me to my point. I love some fluffy snupin fic with a sweet and regretful Remus as much as the next person, mostly because it feeds my joy on seeing him actually beating himself for his mistakes and how he was as much of a bully to Severus as the rest of them. I want Severus's pain and the role Remus played in it to be acknowledged in their relationship.

However, I also want to see some good canon compliant snupin fic where Remus Lupin is presented as the low-key cruel and dark asshole we know he is. I don't buy that he only remained with the marauders because he didn't want to be alone, hell nah, that was Peter. Remus enjoyed their shenanigans and the pranks just as much, and I bet he was the mastermind behind a lot of them. I believe he was the only one who had some guilty conscience afterwards, but it wasn't nearly enough to make him re-consider.

I want some snupin fic where their dynamic follows the one we see in canon. Severus being terrified of Lupin and traumatized after what happened in the Shack, I want Lupin to low-key get off his fear because it makes him feel superior to the usually composed and indiferent Snape. I want Lupin to have been weirdly fixated with Severus since their school years and that's why he never stopped the pranks, because he enjoyed seeing the other boy under their mercy. I want Lupin to "hunt" him as both a teenager and as they're both professors in Hogwarts. Back when i read the books, I always thought his behaviour with Severus, both when they interacted and when Lupin talked about him with others, was kinda fruity. Like, what's up with than enthusiasm to see him wearing woman's clothes? How come he's the only one who refers to him "Severus" when everyone else, except for Dumbledore, calls him Snape? Yeah, it always felt weird to me.

In short, I simply think their canon compliant dynamic would be much more interesting if taken in consideration for fanfics. I love the whole "prey/predator" dynamic they could have.

ahh, thank you so much, anon! i'm delighted that you enjoyed my thoughts on both snupin and remadora - there are dozens of us!

[and i'd like to also draw your attention to this excellent addendum to the remadora point by @evesaintyves - i think it's really important for all of us remadora fans to be vigilant about challenging a tone which is far too prevalent in our conversations that to think about tonks - and lupin - as queer devalues them and their relationship within a canon-coherent setting.]

and yes - absolutely - i love seeing the messiness and thorniness of lupin explored - in snupin or otherwise - by stories which engage with the ruthlessness which lurks beneath his mask of benign affability. bring me the story which really gets into lupin describing his midnight jaunts with the lads in full werewolf form as "the best times of my life" - and clearly never being anywhere near as sorry about the risk he was running as he makes out in prisoner of azkaban...

[and also the fact that it doesn't seem quite as clear to me as i once thought it did that he didn't know anything about the werewolf prank...]

and i think there's an enormous amount of potential in using the longstanding cruelty which is tangible in snape and lupin's dynamic as a vehicle to bring down the mask behind which he lives - and that his relationship with his own sexuality is a really interesting example of that.

there's a homophobic undercurrent to a lot of the marauders' bullying of snape - the nickname "snivellus", for example, is based in the idea of snape being improperly masculine - which endures into the adult lupin and sirius' relationship with him [sirius' comment about snape being lucius malfoy's "lapdog" is him insinuating a sexual relationship between them in which snape is implied to be the receptive partner; lupin obviously thinks that snape would regard being made to cross-dress as humiliating and emasculating].

and while i love the portrayal of the wizarding world in fics as some sort of queer utopia - because i love the escapism of it - the evidence we have from canon is that this is... a pretty far-fetched thing to say about a society which is so obsessed with blood and lineage and the continuation of both of these things.

someone like lupin, who already depends so much on maintaining a mask of "civility" and conformity because of the precarious status his lycanthropy confers upon him in the eyes of the state strikes me as someone who would really struggle to acknowledge himself as queer in any way without thinking of that queerness as deviant and as dangerous to him.

[which is such an underrated remadora premise - tonks is clearly much more comfortable with being experimental and explorative in how she engages with the world. you could have so much fun with the impact tonks' relationship to her own queerness would have on lupin's relationship to his.]

lupin discovering snape is queer - and the combined fear and desire this might inspire in him, and how this would be received by snape, who is still so hung up on being afraid of and humiliated by him - could be a really complex and tangled premise for a story.

which i think you may have just offered to write...