#with the first question often being 'What are you doing?'

[bibliomatcha]

𝐁𝐎𝐁𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐏 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 𖹭.ᐟ

synopsis: reader is a host for a youtube interview show where the premise is a fake date with idols in a boba tea shop. (inspired by chicken shop date)

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐍 the opportunity to interview south korea’s most popular and attractive boyband, the saja boys!

a week before the interview, you did extensive research on the saturated boyband to avoid asking the same repetitive, and borderline shady, questions that most interviewers asked celebrities.

well, you tried to, anyway.

“what the hell…?” you rubbed your temple as you sat slouched and annoyed in front of your computer. the blue light not doing any favors for your tired, burning eyes.

surprisingly, any backgroud information about the saja boys’ past or even uprising is either vague or entirely nonexistent. it’s as if the boys didn’t even exist before their debut, like they just spawned out of thin air one day.

for three days, you pulled all-nighter after all-nighter trying to find reliable sources about each member’s past, only to find headcanons made by pride, shipping wars, and nasty rumors made up by anti-stans.

you let out a defeated groan.

at this point, i’m beginning to question if they’re industry plants…

you looked at your notebook on the side of your desk. what was supposed to be a page or two of good questions to ask the saja boys was instead filled with: where the fuck did ya’ll come from? are ya’ll aware you’re being shipped with each other? know anything about industry plants?, etc.

yup. a clear cry for help.

the only thing you really had going for you were questions about their music and lyricism, specifically on why all of their songs are about consumption.

there’ve been many theories by pride on why all of their songs involved consuming, that the lyrics could be hinting at something deeper. some fans even noted that if you just read the lyrics of each saja boy song without listening to the music, the tone changes from bubblegum to…ominous.

of course, there’s the other half of the pride that chalks it all up to the boys just being really into cunnilingus. so there’s that.

𖹭

meeting the saja boys for the first time was…an experience.

before you could even introduce yourself, mystery was in your face, barking at you like he was a stray dog whose tail you just stepped on. he got snatched back so fast by jinu, their leader.

“we’re so sorry!" he bent over 90 degrees in apology, forcing mystery to do the same. you could tell jinu had a vice grip on the back of mystery’s neck by the way his veins were protruding on his hand.

before you could recover from the shock, romance was then in your face, cooing at how pretty you were.

“never met a girl as pretty as you. what’s your name, angel?”

“i-"

once again, jinu snatched romance by the neck and gripped his head down in apology just like mystery before him.

“please excuse him!"

“ow! watch the hair!"

abby looked like he was about to act a fool, too, but froze when he caught sight of jinu side-eyeing him with a look that threatened a brutal murder.

𖹭

the interview itself was even more chaotic and it wasn’t entirely because of the saja boys.

your interviewing style wasn’t exactly conventional. celebrities are often treated like spectacles or descended deities by hosts’, but you ran your show by treating guests like old friends on a unserious date. in addition, you refused to invite or accept requests of celebs you didn’t like onto your show. you’ve even been cancelled by parasocial fans for deleting your interviews with celebs who were later exposed for being either bigots or criminals.

jinu was a gentlemen throughout the entire interview. during the bands introduction, he thanked you sincerely for having them on your show. he offered his full, undivided attention to you and praised you on how good your questions were. a skill you felt very prideful about.

you did notice something odd, however.

"as the composer and co-producer of the group, i'm curious about when your journey with music began? would you mind sharing, jinu?"

that's when you noticed it.

despite it being so subtle that you could miss it with a blink. you saw how his face twitched. how his eyes darkened as they glazed over for just a second. it may have been a trick of the light, but in that second, you swore you saw his eyes glow. the air of the room shifted, too.

it didn't help that the other boys suddenly fell quiet. it felt like you were being were being given a silent warning to not ask the wrong thing. but what was the wrong thing to ask?

you attempted to correct your mistake.

"i apologize if it's a sensitive topic, we'll cut this ou-"

"no." jinu snapped from his daze and swiftly switched back into his idol persona. "it's okay, i don't mind answering." he smiled, but it hardly reached his eyes.

the air in the room felt lighter again, though.

many pressing questions swirled in your mind, and your curiousty only grew when jinu's answer felt so vague and fabricated.

seriously, are these guys industry plants?

𖹭

romance was staring at you the entire time as if you were a painting in the louvre. you noticed that whenever you asked him question, he took a long sip of his milk tea while making prolonged eye contact. his aim was obviously to fluster you, so you decided to match his energy.

“you know, romance, out of all members, you’re the one i did the most research on?”

“oh?" he raised a brow, tilting his head on his palm. "you find me that interesting?"

“of course, it’s important to know things about my future husband.”

romance felt his cold heart take a screenshot. hosts' were usually flustered just by his presence alone, but none were ever so bold to flirt back. he turned his head to the side, covering his face with the back of his hand.

abby whistled. “damn, that was smooth."

𖹭

as usual during interviews, baby was polite and acting cute, but you noticed that there was an air of disinterest emitting from him. wanting to change that, you presented him with a twelve pack of the spiciest hot sauce in south korea and told him that if he could drink a whole boba tea version of the sauce in five minutes, he could keep the pack.

immediately, his demeanor switched from cute to daredevil.

you watched in equal horror and awe as he chugged the hellish boba down in a single minute. the boys cheered for him, minus jinu, who just looked done with everything.

afterwards, baby became engaged in the interview, even asking you questions about yourself and your show, all of which you happily answered.

𖹭

you don't know how it happened, but somehow, as you were interviewing the muscle of the group...you winded up sitting on abby's back as he did twenty sets of pushups while the rest of the boys were trying to break him as a challenge.

out all the boys, romance was oddly putting in the most effort to make abby fail.

if someone had told you that becoming a host would lead you to sitting on a handsome rich mans back, you would've laughed in their face. but, atlast, here you are doing just that.

"you know," abby grunted. "i've never held a girl like this before."

"are you saying i'm special?" you joked.

you shifted a bit when abby chuckled. you quickly adjusted yourself to avoid a nasty fall.

"don't worry, i won't drop you."

"good," you sat up straight. "this is the greatest moment of my whole career. i don't want it to be ruined."

you could've sworn you heard romance mutter something under his breath, but chose to ignore it.

as much fun as you were having though, you definitely felt anxiety building up.

should i keep this in the video? my sasaeng senses are tingling like crazy.

𖹭

you had a slight beef with mystery that you couldn’t shake off since your first interaction. when he was in the middle of answering your question, you felt the sudden urge to hiss at him for revenge...so you did. mystery, as well as the other boys, fell silent as he stared at you with his mouth agape.

“yea, how do you like it?" you smirked, starring him down with a challenging look in your eyes.

jinu side-eyed mystery with tight lips. “mystery, don-"

“GRRR!!!"

the last few minutes of the interview was you and mystery trying to assert dominance on the other with hisses, growls, barking, and evening roaring. this continued for awhile with most of it edited out of the video.

“uh, should we stop this.” abby cringed.

“nah, i wanna see who wins.” baby leaned forward on the table, drinking the last of his boba.

romance held a hand to his heart. “even when she’s growling, she’s angelic."

fuck my life. jinu facepalmed.

thank you for reading, ya'll ₍₍⚞(˶˃ ꒳ ˂˶)⚟⁾⁾ it's been so much fun FINALLY writing for these dorks !! it feels so good to be a part of a new fandom with rich content aaaa !!!

[gay-dorito-dust]

Helloooooo 👋. Sorry if this is a bad time but I saw that you're writing for K-pop demon hunters now and I saw your fic with the tiger and it gave an adorable idea, so what if Manager reader had a puppy, maybe a golden retriever or something like that, who's normally a big sweetheart but the second one of the boys pet it. Ultimate zoomies, and the reader comes in to see the guys just trying to get the puppy to stay still.

Lukas was a handful.

You loved the golden retriever puppy more then life itself, always feeling alot better the moment you stared into his big puppy eyes and laughed at the lightning pace his tail went whenever he saw you. Lukas was serotonin incarnate and you knew you could never have a shit day, not when you had a beautiful bundle of fluff to always cheer you up by simply existing, becoming overjoyed with seeing you even if you had been gone for five seconds.

The months old pup made the headaches go away and the kisses he would give you was worth the slobbery trail when you knelt down to greet him with an abumdance of kisses, causing the pup to go mental with his own affection in return before darting off like a golden blur within the depths of your room, finding that it had more energy to burn off then originally expected while you went to make him some food for when he tired himself out.

You loved Lukas alot but his tendancy to get the zoomies after a simple act of affection like a head pat or a scratch behind the ear, he was off causing chaos and often times tackled himself into you when he slides across parts of wodded flooring from running too fast. It's endearing at first but soon enough you had learnt to not over indulge Lukas in affection and give him just enough to stay within a calm, relaxed state.

However you didn't pre warn the boys about Lukas' tendancy to become too excited when given too much affection when you had made them watch over your precious bundle of fluff, all you did in fact tell them before leaving to stock up on dog food was: 'if one of you looses my true happiness in golden fur, my serotonin boost with toe beans, i will make you all regret it, one by one.' All the while pointing at each and individual member with the intent of upholding your threat, before giving them a smile and shutting the door behind you.

So the minute Lukas had gotten one too many head pats and chin scratches from Abby, Romance and Jinu, he began to bolt about the room like a golden blur their eyes can barely catch up with and causing a ruckas. The boys were at a loss of what to do, having not dealt with this sort of thing before, helpessly watching your puppy as he darted from one side of the room to another within seconds, or bolting from the sofa to running down the hallway to your bedroom the minute they blink.

'what do we do?' romance asked, trying to keep his eye on the golden retriever, hoping not to trip over the golden blurr.

'(name) is so going to kill us.' Abby adds as he tried and failed to catch your puppy, Lukas' nimble and small body managing to slip through his hands like water as it darted off towards the living room once more, skidding scross the floor on a pillow he had knocked off previously.

'We have to find and calm Lukas before (name) gets back and clean up the mess he's made as to avoid suspicion.' Jinu said with finality as he and Mystery teamed up to find Lukas, letting Baby be on watchout for you, and let Romance and Abby be on catching duty for when Jinu and Mystery heard the energetic puppy towards them. It sounded easily enough of a plan to work in their favour, being demons and all but they all would soon learn that nothing is ever so easily exacuted, especially not when it came to your precious Lukas who could do no wrong.

'everyone know their positions?' jinu asked everyone, giving them a stern look.

'yes!' Abby, Romance and Mystery said in unison.

'Baby?' Jinu said, casting him a questioning look.

'Heard you loud and clear, watch out for (name) and alert you when they're coming.' Baby said his job within the plan back to Jinu, word for word, before popping the lollipop back into his mouth. Jinu made a noise of apporval as he catches a glimps of the golden puppy from the corner of his eye. 'then let us catch ourselves a puppy!' He said as he and Mystery made the first move into fishing Lukas out of the room he was causing chaos within, believeing it to be a simple job.

It wasn't in fact an simple job, the boys were loosing badly, so badly infact that Romance and Mystery were forced to sit down on the floor, having never had been left so out of breath by a small thing ever in their demonic lives. Also Baby had completely given up on his duty of watching out for you halfway through, instead finding more humour in his fellow band mates misery in capturing this small dog, smirking and snickering when the puppy seemed to get the best of four other demons in a borderline embarassing display.

So when he heard the door open, he was quick to stop laughing and looked over to see you stood in the doorway, just in time to see Jinu and Abby collide into one another as they failed to sneak up on Lukas who seemed to know what they were doing and ran from under them at the last minute; that felt intentional by the puppy, like he wanted them to be lurred into a false sense of security before bolting towards you the second he saw you, barking like mad.

'Hi honey.' You cooed as you knelt down to look at Lukas, noticing that he was filled with unbridled energy that needed to be dispersed, took notice of the state of the room and saw how trashed it seemed before seeing the exhausted states Abby, Romance, Jinu and Mystery were in as the pieces came together in quick succession. 'did you guys not read my text?' you asked, looking from Abby to Jinu as they looked at each other confused.

'text? what text?' Abby asked.

'oh i think they mean this one.' Baby said as he showed the two his phone as Mystery and Romance forced themselves to their feet to join the others in reading the text on Baby's phone screen, their faces all collectively drop after reading it, which read as follows; 'I forgot to mention this before i left, but Lukas gets really excited when given affection or excessive affection, and he will get the zoomies. So please give my lukas affection at your own discrecion. See you later.'

Romance looked at Baby, who seemed too calm for all of this and pointed at him, 'you knew and didn't bother to tell us!' He accused his band mate who only shrugged.

'You guys seemed a little busy with catching Lukas, so i'd thought i would tell you guys later, besides i'm not the only one with access to a phone. So whaat's your excuses.' Baby defends himself as he pops the lollipop he had removed to speak back into his mouth, shrugging.

'We were trying to catch the puppy while you were sat on your ass!' Abby exclaims in defense of himself, Jinu, Romance and Mystery who huffed in agreement before they all looked over at you, only to see that you had managed to calm down Lukas and wandered into the kitchen with the little chaos maker nipping at your heels in excitment of having you home as you sighed.

'Seeing as you've stopped arguing, how about you boys clean up, you’ve practically made my living space into an active war zone.’ You told them with a tight lipped smile, Lukas sitting innocently by your feet, tail wagging at a thousand miles a minute.

‘Do we have much of a choice?’ Romance asks.

You gave it some thought before responding with a resounding. ‘Nope.’

[777heavengirl]

Bless the Telephone ; ##07

James Potter x f!muggle!reader word count: 1,126 warnings: none? i think a/n: I'm ashamed again bc this took so long but the next one is half done-ish? I'm so sorry its been a month series masterlist main masterlist

Talking with James while your brother stayed with you was almost like you were fifteen again, whispering to the phone at the dead of night. 

“When will you be leaving?”

“Thursday, be back Monday, I think… We were planning on spending a day just sightseeing, too.” You hummed in acknowledgment. “If I find a phone box, I’ll ring.”

“Will you?” You picked at the polish on your nails, the neutral pink quickly peeling. You bit your cuticle.

“Of course,” Of course, he would. Because he always did. James called almost every day, even if it was a ten-minute call in the dead of night, and very rarely did you have to call first. But you did, some days when you didn’t hear anything, you’d call. 

You’d call and pace, the fidgeting moving to biting the skin of your lips. When the ringing was long, you’d start pacing, sometimes you’d even call twice. 

It was very rare that someone didn’t answer. 

Sometimes you’d hear Sirius’s teasing grin through the phone, like he knew who would be calling. He’d vaguely talk about James’s whereabouts, always adding some question you never had an answer to.

“What are your intentions with my James?”

“How do you really feel about him?”

“Do you want to marry him, hm? Only the best for him, you know.”

You’d often just hang up on the boy, with a roll of your eyes.

James would answer more often than not, with a grin that was audible through his words and a sweet “miss me?” rolling off his tongue.

But by now, it had been a day without James already, which had been harder to get through than you were willing to admit. You loved talking to him on the phone, even when he would accidentally hang up and curse at the telephone when he fell asleep, and when he asked weird common-sense questions.

You sat on the open trunk of the little red car you borrowed from a friend; the lengths you’d go to for your brother were tested daily. But you found in the end… You didn’t actually mind, the thought of how stupid it all was, how long the trip would be, and how much you did not want to do this went away as he came down the stairs of your building. Your brother’s bag wildly flew and bounced against his back as he ran down, a wide smile on his face.

It was worth it, you thought, to see him smile like that.

“Are you ready?” You pulled yourself up so he could throw the bag in the trunk, and closed it firmly.

“More than ready, I’m so excited this is insane- have I told you how much I love you?”

“Not enough, I fear,” you said with a laugh

“Well I do, this is insane! this is so exciting! Aren’t you excited!!” He rambled on, bordering on nonsensical, 

“If you are then I am” you smiled at him, sweetly, he mirrored it back. You often forgot, he was still a kid. 16 isn’t very old.

To be fair 20 wasn’t either.

You didn’t know what Quidditch was. Well, yes you knew it was a sport, and your brother spent the next hour painstakingly explaining every aspect of the sport and how exciting the whole thing was. The brooms, the snitch, the adrenaline of it all. 

You’d be lying if part of you didn’t long for it, the magic, the thrill of living in a world that was so fantastical. Even after five years, the amazement of it all hadn’t faded for your brother. He’d come running to you every summer break with stories you would have never believed had you not seen him accidentally perform magic as a child. Many dolls floated in your bedroom for years, and food would often disappear from your plate and come back into his.

But after years, the jealousy settled. The fear of being left out diminished until it was just a wee little thing that dropped to the bottom of your heart like sediment, only to come out on the worst of nights. You relished in your mundane routines, your scarce excitements, and the occasional dead-ended romance. It was better than resentment and jealousy, you knew that well. You were happy for him; at least he would live a fantastical life. Besides, one day, after he was of age, you’d get to start asking him for little magical favors.

That’s what siblings are for anyway.

-

“Be very careful do you hear me?” You held your brother's face with one hand, his eyes darted to the side where he could see his friends. You squeezed his cheeks harder, so he’d look at you. “I’m serious, I can’t get you out of a magical issue do you understand? You’d be on your own and I need you to watch your back”

“I know-”

“You always know,” you squeezed again playfully, “I’m just trying to make sure you understand.” There were various groups of people walking around the forest, clearly all leaving from the same spot; however, it worked. 

“Yeah, sure, whatever, Mom,” he replied, exaggerated and dramatic. He hugged you immediately after, tightly, almost clawing at your back. “I’ll be careful, thank you”

“Love you”

“I love you too,” he quickly left, running to his friends and the very exhausted father followed behind. You didn’t leave just yet, the curiosity getting the better of you. you strolled lightly behind, itching closer to where everyone seemed to head. They very obviously were taking advantage of the darkness created by the array of trees, everyone seemed normal, maybe a wacky hat here or there, but your brother had described most traditional wizard wear like that anyway. You could see a group of older boys approach your brother’s, excitement in their voices. You couldn’t truly discern their faces but you could almost hear their words, but regardless, they sounded more than familiar with each other, the conversation warm with affection. Pats on the back, smirks on faces, now you knew where your brother had gotten his newfound grin from. 

And then you heard it, the laugh. Loud and robust, you heard it as it bounced off the trees, as it ricocheted off the forest floor. You knew that laugh. You’d recognize it for miles. You thought of it often, its echoes resounding in your dreams. A laugh that felt like a warm summer day, even in the coldness of the forest. It struck your heart in ways you could not truly explain, and you felt the weight of it sink to the pit of your stomach. 

You heard that laugh every day through the phone. 

You’d know James Potter’s laugh even if you heard it from miles away.

tags ; @ilovejamespottersomuch @ravisinghs-wife @hidontmindtheintrovert @stella-thestars @caspiankingofnarnia @lovelyteenagebeard @starkluvrr @hisparentsgallerryy @leilani13gc @katsusayhi @auroresce @lovemiss-vale @alessiaparigim @unconventional-lawnchair @moonydoodlez @eissaaaa @ailoda @nahhhwhatthefrick @notapoetjustscar @hiireadstuff @the-rat-king1902 @n1ght-vngel @littlewhitel1es @rreporterbby @santaasi @myheroworldandanimes @whimsical-mistakes @lalalandincraz @2dloveshp @loveyouprongs @beepboopcowboy @fiowerbeds @kneelforloki @noonenuts @urblondiebaby @cherry-cin @pprettyvisitorr @laniirackssss @abhootghiihii @sodavrr @berryhobi @that-b-word-lol

permanent tag ; @laufeysvalentine @heyyyloverr

let me know if you want to be tagged in any future chapters!

[kukinkrim]

my spring

jinu x male!forest guardian!reader

themes: mystical, fluff

note: part 1?? might make part 2 p(^-^)q

the forest pulsed as it breathes. the greeneries glittering with the morning dew. veins of sunlight streamed through the canopy, dappling the earth in gold. in the heart of this little grove, where roots curled amongst each other, older than time, lay a spring so pure.

and someone was sleeping in it.

not just someone, but a race you never knew would have the audacity to dirt your paradise. a demon. and he’s sleeping in the sacred spring.

half-submerged in the water, the lower half of his black hanbok floats on the surface of the water. his gat, an old wide-brimmed hat, rests tilted on his head. tucked behind one pointed ear was a flower; white orchid.

your eye twitched.

you spent millenials growing that thing and this... this oaf just plucked it out of your home.

a demon. in your spring.

"demon,” your voice cracked through the clearing. “this spring is sacred. your kind does not belong here.”

the demon stirred awake, revealing golden, sharp irises rhat reminded you of the sunrays. they were... surprisingly soft. the kind you wouldn't see from a demon that's supposed to wreck havoc in your abode. a little tired, perhaps, and a little startled.

he walked slowly to the shore, bowing his head slightly to pay respect you never thought a demon was capable of. “i didn’t mean to trespass,” he said. his voice was gentle, oddly out of place for something meant to consume and corrupt.

you didn’t lower your guard, however. you only looked at him with contempt, trying to decipher what kind of game this demon was playing. “you expect mercy in return for tainting my spring?”

“no,” the demon murmured. “i apologize. i only meant to rest. it's... quiet here.” he touched the orchid behind his ear, gaze drifting upward to the trees. “it’s beautiful."

you have half the mind to scoff. was this his attempt to talk you up? to have you put your guard down so he could sink his dirty little claws at you? fat chance.

"you must leave before i throw you out myself."

he looks at you with something akin to desperation, eyes pleading. "may i atleast stay for a little while? just until the sun meets the horizon. i promise i won't bother you."

"a demon making promises. how funny," you mutteres dryly. you were about to deny him, say no like you always do with visitors who wandered about your sanctuary, but the look in his eyes made you stop. earnest. something honest swimming in his irises that made you falter.

how could you deny someone being so genuine?

but at the same time, curse your soft heart.

"fine," you grumbled "but you must not stray away from my side. i do not trust you, demon."

his shoulders slump in silent relief, the corners of his lips tilting upwards ever so slightly. "jinu," he replies as he takes of his gat, holding it before his chest. "my name is jinu. i really appreciate your kindness..."

"y/n."

true to his word, he follows you like a shadow stitched at the bottom of your sole. at first, his presence alone annoyed you.

the forest was always yours alone. no steps but your own should rustle the underbrush, no breath but yours should stir the leaves. the presence of another should’ve felt wrong. he was a trespasser.

but jinu walks with gentle steps.

he doesn’t ask questions. thankfully, he doesn't talk unless spoken to. his footsteps fall soft over moss and root, and somehow, he manages not to disturb a single petal as he passes. you catch him sometimes, lingering near flowering shrubs, fingers barely grazing the blossoms. he follows closely but never too close. and while you pretend not to notice, you find yourself listening for his presence more often than not.

but what you don’t expect—what troubles you the most—is how the forest begins to respond to him.

the trail winds toward a sun-dappled glade where ferns grow thick and soft. you’re halfway across when you realize he’s stopped.

you turn, annoyed at first, only to find him frozen stiff several paces back. he was completely still; with one hand extended as if turned to stone. nestled against his palm, like it was the safest place in the world, is a baby fawn.

you blink.

he isn't moving, he fears that if he breathes, he'd scare the little guy away.

the fawn nudges him, its velvet nose brushing his skin, and jinu makes a tiny, strangled sound; something between a gasp and a confused plea. his wide eyes find yours instantly.

there’s panic on his face. pure, unfiltered, childlike confusion.

you blink again.

and then you laugh.

laughter bubbles up like spring water. it startles even you. it’s been a long time since you’ve let yourself laugh like this.

jinu’s ears twitch slightly—either from the sound or sheer embarrassment. “what… what do I do?” he asks, voice hushed, as if speaking too loudly might scare the fawn away.

“are you asking me how to hold a deer?” you manage between laughs.

“it’s touching me,” he says. “what if I do something wrong?”

“you’re standing still. it chose you.”

his brows knit together, mouth parted helpless. “why would it do that? i’m a demon.”

you stared, calming down, and you pat your robes down. "perhaps, they know you wouldn't hurt them"

the fawn eventually drifts away, content and unbothered, leaving jinu standing there like he never believed it just happened. he follows behind you again when you began walking away.

but it happens again.

birds, those flitty, fickle things that even you have to coax carefully with crumbs and patience? they land on his shoulders uninvited. they sing in harmony as they sat on his gat and his shoulders while he, oh that ungrateful little bastard, only looked at you in fear like he was beinf held hostage by a bunch of flying munchkins.

"what's happening?" he asks, confused.

you exhaled, petting a bird that flutters towards your finger. "it seems the forest has taken a liking to you," you watched as it nuzzled on your finger before flying towards the demon infront of you. "this is unusual."

jinu chuckles nervously, trying his best to pet every one of the birds that came to him. "really?" he asks. despite the confusion in his eyes, you could see the genuine smile that formed on his lips as his shoulders began to relax.

you watch him who seemed to glow under the rays that peeked through the rustlimg leaves. there’s no fear in him now. whatever burden he carried when he entered your sanctuary is now forgotten, replaced only by wonder and awe.

his smile creeps up slowly, curling his lips until his whole face softens. as if for a moment, he starts to forget he’s anything but a boy in a forest, being gently smothered by affection.

“this is ridiculous,” you mutter, turning away before your own amused smile gives you away.

[beargyu313]

Desire unleash

⋆˚𝜗 Summary: a weekend getaway turns into a mental game of who can push the limit the furthers – it’s a game with no winners. Very loosely inspired by cruel intentions (1999), but it’s more campy.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪Word count: 12k of smut, no pure moment is in this lol

CONTENT WARNINGS (!): erotic manipulation, blurred consent dynamics (but still consensual), power games, control, and knowing you're being bad but not caring.

⋆˚࿔ Tags: smut, foursome, tension so thick you could choke on it, power play / control dynamics, voyeurism, jealousy kink (but consensual), possessive!jake (but lowkey), (un)knowing teasing, dirty talk, overstimulation, eye contact kink, subtle dom/sub, group sex (some boy on boy kissing), finger in the booty, slight exhibitionism, kissing someone else while your boyfriend watches, they think they’re sneaky but your man knows, creampie, some choking and spanking but nothing too crazy, aftercare cuddles but it’s four people in a heap

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚a/n: thank you so much to the anon for req, writing this was really fun  :D<33 on a more somber note I start a new job tomorrow and I don’t know how often I’ll be able to write so I really pushed myself to finish this one and hope I can work on something fun soon !

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ mdni smut ahead, masterlist ⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Jake watches you pack. You toss in bikinis without realizing how small they are. You ask if he packed snacks; he packed condoms. “Do you think they’ll come?” you ask. He shrugs, but he already knows they will. Sunghoon said yes first with lightning speed. Niki followed a minute later with a thumbs-up and a smirk. They didn’t ask questions. They didn’t need to.

Jake's seen the way they look at you. You looking back.

It’s not about trust. It’s about curiosity. About pressure. About what happens when people get what they want.

He’s not worried. He knows you’ll come back to him. But he wants to know who’ll touch you first.

Which is why you’re currently spending your weekend in the middle of nowhere. Your boyfriend invited you to a private-pool weekend getaway, to which you of course agreed to go. And it would be romantic – if only his two hot friends weren’t also here.

Why they’re here too was beyond you. But the house held two bedrooms, separated not by a wall, but by huge double doors. It allowed for some privacy but not much, since the doors couldn’t be locked and could be opened from either side. Anytime.

You’re rummaging through your bag, trying to decide which bikini set to wear to the pool. Jake is just watching you, sitting on the bed. He was already in swim trunks, paired with a gray t-shirt and a snapback hat that he was wearing backwards.

After a beat he goes “just wear the peach one.”

You glance at him, surprise showing on your face.

“Are you for real? It’s basically just strings…” you continue unsure.

“Yeah, I know you don’t like big tan lines, it’s fine.”

“That’s true, but I thought– you wouldn’t mind?” you ask, but the set is already in your hands, “cause of the boys, I mean?”

Jake plops down on the bed, relaxed. He blows a raspberry, “Nah, bro code.”

And that’s how you end up spread on the beach chair in thongs and a tiny stringy top. You’re laying down on your stomach. The thong is digging into your hips, and Jake’s hands massage sunscreen into your skin. His hands are warm and slow, thumbs stroking over your ribs, his touch more affectionate than sexual—until it isn’t.

The screen door creaks open.

You don’t lift your head, but the air shifts. The sound of voices—low and easy, almost laughing. Footsteps. The scent of someone’s cologne.

You glance back over your shoulder.

Sunghoon and Niki.

Shirtless. Damp hair. Swim trunks slung low. You take in a breath, hold it.

Sunghoon’s trunks are electric blue, contrasting nicely with his complexion and black fluffy hair. His eyes flicker once over your ass, once over Jake’s hand still on your back, and then settle on your shoulders like a weight.

You feel Niki look too. You don’t look but can feel his eyes on you. Lingering. His hair was curling slightly from the heat, cheeks tinged red. His trunks were black with a white waistband and a text written right over his crotch. You don’t attempt to read it.

Jake hasn’t said a word.

You arch your back slightly, stretching. It’s innocent enough, but you know what it looks like—what it feels like. Your ass lifting up, the thong curving securely around your core. Jake’s thumb dips lower, grazing just under the string of your bottoms.

“Jakey,” you say sweetly, not opening your eyes, “they didn’t slip, right?”

“All good,” he murmurs, smoothing over your ass under the guise of fixing over the fabric.

That’s when Niki walks past. His tone is too casual to be harmless, “Want a second coat? You know... just in case he missed a spot.”

Your laugh escapes you before you can stop it. You don’t even lift your head, just let it roll out of you, cheek pressed to the towel as you smile into the terrycloth.

You hear Sunghoon awkwardly cough and glance toward Jake, expecting him to shut it down, to say something. But he doesn’t. He’s already watching you. A slight smirk playing at the corner of his lips. Knowing.

“You missed a spot?” you ask Jake, a teasing lilt in your voice that you pretend not to notice. “How careless.”

Jake’s hand resumes its path down your thigh, deceptively gentle.

“My bad,” he says. “Guess I was distracted.”

You hum like it means nothing. Like you don’t know exactly what he means.

But to Niki you’re a fucking painting. Laid out. Glowing. Practically melting under Jake’s hands. And he can’t look away.

Niki hadn’t meant to say it out loud, it just came out. But then you laughed. And Jake didn’t bite his head off. Your voice had that easy, girly playfulness he’d never really gotten from you before. The way you tilted your hips slightly, still face-down, like it was just comfortable to do that. Like you didn’t care what they saw.

Or worse maybe you did.

Niki's throat feels dry. He rubs the back of his neck and wanders off to the cooler like that’s what he’d meant to do all along.

You glance after him for just a second, but it’s long enough. Long enough for Jake to notice.

“He’s looking at you,” he says casually, voice low near your ear. “He thinks he’s being slick.”

“Who?” you murmur, letting your eyes fall closed again, feigning innocence.

“Take a wild guess.”

There’s a pause. Your lips twitch. Jake presses another kiss between your shoulder blades, lips hot against sunscreen and skin.

“You’re not worried?” you ask him, soft. A little breathier than intended.

Jake smiles against your back. He doesn’t answer. But he doesn’t stop touching you either. You’re practically purring under his wandering hands. His fingers ghost over your cunt and just as you spread your legs apart he’s gone, running into the pool.

The force of his jump, splashes droplets on you.

The water is warm. And Jake hasn’t stopped smiling all afternoon.

Sunghoon watches him out of the corner of his eye as Niki throws water at him like a kid, laughing. Jake laughs too, swiping water from his face with a slick hand, but there’s something too relaxed about the way he floats through it all.

Sunghoon doesn’t trust it.

He keeps glancing back at the lounge chair. At you. You're still lying there, bare legs stretched out, that peach bikini like a soft warning. This isn’t for you, it says. But watch anyway.

Jake had to have picked it. There’s no way you packed that set on accident. And the way Jake keeps touching you like he wants them to notice…

Sunghoon dips lower into the pool, jaw tight. “She’s gonna burn like that,” he mutters, mostly to himself.

“She won’t,” Jake replies, suddenly next to him. “I was thorough.”

Sunghoon doesn’t answer. Jake just grins.

“Hey,” Jake calls to you, lifting his hand from the water. “You coming in?”

You sit up slowly, stretch your arms overhead, a little catlike yawn escaping. Niki coughs behind him. Jake flicks water at him with a smirk.

But it’s Sunghoon who speaks.

“Here—” He moves toward the edge of the pool and holds out a hand. “I’ll help.”

You smile at him, like it’s a joke, like you don’t need help. But you take his hand anyway. And the second your fingers brush his, he knows he’s in trouble.

“You’re such a gentleman,” you tease, stepping down toward the ledge as you hold his bigger palm. His whole hand swallowing yours.

Sunghoon pretends to look away but doesn’t let go. You laugh, slipping one foot into the water.

But just then your other foot catches, maybe on purpose, maybe not. You squeak, stumble slightly.

Your chest collides softly into his, hands on his shoulders. The water laps up around you both. It should be clumsy. It should be nothing. But before Sunghoon even thinks about what he’s doing his hands are steadying you. Wrapped lowly around your waist. His fingers dangerously close to your ass. His middle digits would slip under the stupidly small string if he moved them just a centimeter lower.

It is not nothing. You’re smiling. He can’t stop looking at your lips.

“Oops,” you murmur, barely above the water.

“You okay?” he asks, voice a little too tight.

“Yeah.” You don’t move away.

Neither does he.

Behind you, Niki cannonballs into the deep end like a distraction, water spraying everywhere.

Sunghoon finally steps back, pulling away as though electrocuted. He laughs, but it’s forced, low. Jake watches it all from across the pool. His head tilted. His mouth unreadable. And when you paddle away, he doesn’t follow.

As the sun hides away behind trees and night falls the four of you gather in the living room. Someone pushed the couch against the wall, coffee table moved to the side.

At the center of the room now lays only a decorative rug. Slightly licked pale from the sunlight. Sitting in circle are you, then to the right of you Niki, to his right and across from you sits your boyfriend, and next to him is Sunghoon. You’re squished between two taller boys.

You’re a bit sad to see them with their shirts back on. But Niki is manspreading next to you. His bigger frame is leaning towards you. His knee is resting over your thigh and you don’t move away from the touch.

Across from you is Jake, his eyes half-lidded, watching everything. He’s got a red cup in one hand and his other arm stretched behind Sunghoon, casual. But you notice how his fingers tap against the rug when Niki leans toward you.

And beside him is Sunghoon, freshly showered, hair falling in soft waves over his eyes, skin still pink from the pool. You can’t tell if he’s tired or tense.

“Truth or dare?” Niki asks suddenly, lips curved up into a smirk. His voice is low, playful. He spins the bottle.

It lands on you.

You smile. Tilt your head.

“Truth.”

“Lame,” Sunghoon mutters. But he’s smiling too.

“Fine,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Dare, then.”

Niki leans in. “Let someone in this room feed you something. Eye contact only.”

Jake hums under his breath, but it’s not disapproving. More amused. Like this was part of the plan.

You arch a brow. “Who’s feeding me, then?”

There’s a beat of silence. No one volunteers.

“I’ll do it,” Niki says eventually, reaching behind for the gummy bears someone left on the counter.

He kneels in front of you, holding out a single red one, his hand slightly shaking. You wrap your hand around his wrist, effectively stilling him. You look up at him through your lashes.

You smirk when you see him gulp. Then you part your lips, leaning in. Keeping your eyes on his you let your tongue ghost over his fingers before sucking the candy out of his grasp.

Niki’s smirk falters for half a second when you suck it off his finger without breaking eye contact.

Across from you, Jake sips his drink slowly.

“Next,” he says, voice low.

The bottle spins again.

It lands on Sunghoon.

“Truth,” he says flatly.

Jake raises a brow. “Where’s the craziest place you’ve thought about… doing it?”

You almost choke on your drink. Niki grins. Sunghoon looks you dead in the eye before answering.

“This rug,” he says.

The air goes still. Jake laughs first — just a low, quiet sound from his chest. And then he speaks, voice velvet-soft.

“Good to know.”

The bottle spins again. It lands on Niki.

Jake leans forward lazily. “Alright, hotshot. Dare.”

Niki smirks. He’s already tipsy, a little flush creeping up his neck. His eyes are half-lidded and he looks so fucked out.

“Whisper something you want to do to someone in this room.”

There’s a pause. A ripple of awareness.

Niki doesn't hesitate. He turns to you, crawls just a bit closer, and leans in like he’s about to kiss your ear. He drunkenly bumps into you, but doesn’t apologize. Instead he grabs your shoulder – almost your neck – to still himself.  His lips hover near the shell of your ear. You feel his breath before you hear the words.

“I want to you on all fours, my dick in your ass, while Jake watches.”

Your lips part, breath hitching. But you don’t pull away.

You hear Sunghoon shift beside Jake, and glance up just in time to catch his jaw flex. But he says nothing. Jake… Jake is just watching, that soft smirk still there — approving, like a conductor letting the orchestra warm up before the real crescendo.

The game moves on. The bottle lands on you.

“Dare,” you say, braver now. Or maybe just tipsy enough.

Sunghoon speaks first this time. “Sit in someone’s lap for the next round.”

You cock your head. “Whose?”

“Dealer’s choice,” Niki grins.

You pause for effect, scan the circle, and then on all fours you slowly, while playfully swaying your hips, crawl over to Jake.

His legs part just slightly to let you fit, and he rests a hand on your thigh, grounding. Possessive. You feel the way Sunghoon’s eyes track the movement. Niki doesn’t even pretend not to look.

The next bottle spin lands on Jake.

Niki leans in, mischievous. “Tell us the freakiest thing you’ve done with her.”

Jake’s grip on your thigh tightens. He’s quiet for a second, the kind of quiet that makes your mind wander… balcony, middle of the dance floor once, public bath house...

His answer surprises you.

“Her in the mirror,” he says. “My hand on her throat,” his hand softly grasps your neck as he retells the story, “Her mouth open the whole time but not a single sound. I didn’t let her.”

You freeze slightly in his lap. Niki whistles, low. Sunghoon just swallows.

You move back to your spot between Niki and Sunghoon. The later refusing to meet your gaze.

The bottle spins again.

It lands on Sunghoon this time. You don’t know who suggests it — it could’ve been Niki, drunk and fearless, or you, drunk and reckless — but suddenly,

“Jake. Sunghoon. Kiss.”

The room holds its breath.

Jake raises his brows, amused. “Is that the best you’ve got?”

Sunghoon shrugs, cool as ever. “It’s just a kiss.”

“Then do it,” Niki says, eyes gleaming.

Jake shifts his chest towards Sunghoon, tilting his head in a quiet invitation.

Sunghoon leans in first. Their mouths meet and you feel yourself holding your breath. They’re both stiff at first. Lips tightly pressed against each other.

But then something snaps in both. Your mouth drops as Jake grabs Sunghoon by the nape, pulling him closer in a clear display of dominance. But Sunghoon mirrors his actions. They’re in a violent embrace and you can feel the splotching sound of their tongues meeting and against yourself you slip a hand down to your panties.

You roughly press on your clit a few times before you catch yourself and stop. Sunghoon’s free hand travels to Jake’s throat and just as he squeezes him Jake growls, pulling away.

They break apart like something snapped — breathless, jaws tight. Niki’s eyes are wide. Your pulse is roaring in your ears.

Jake leans back like nothing happened, licking his bottom lip once, slow.

“Now that’s a dare,” he says.

After that the dares and laughter dies down, the warmth of tequila and the warm living room turns cozy, the type that’s heavy, sleepy.

Blankets are laid out. Jake throws one over you, then another across the floor. Niki mutters, “I’m not moving.”

No one does.

You're lying with your back against Jake’s chest. He’s half-sitting, leaning against the couch, his arm is slung around your waist, relaxed. His breath is steady. He doesn’t speak, but his fingers occasionally brush slow circles into your hipbone.

Niki lies on your side, his head on Jake’s thighs, his hair brushing against your side. You feel the heat radiating off of him, hair tickling your skin. At one point, his hand lazily and casually falls across your stomach. It stays there. He doesn’t move it. Jake doesn’t make him.

Sunghoon is last to settle in. Sitting down next to Jake. Jake’s head falls onto his shoulder. Your hand somehow finds his knee. And when Sunghoon doesn’t brush you off you give him a gentle squeeze. Your hand travels up his thigh, but Jake’s hand interlocking with yours, still on Sunghoon’s knee, stop you.

“Let’s just go to sleep,” you mumble moving to get up.

The boys watch you rise and stretch your arms above your head. And then you’re disappearing up the stairs.

The bed is pleasantly cool when you slip in. Jake’s follows you a moment later, sprawling out shirtless on the bed, one arm behind his head, contemplating on whether on not he should say what’s on his mind.

“You’re not the only one who’s been catching looks, you know.”

Your pulse picks up. You shuffle to his side, arms wrapping around his naked torso.

“...You saw that?”

Jake’s smile is soft. Dangerous.

“I see everything.”

You chew your lip.

“And…?”

He caresses your arm comfortingly, “If it happens,” he says, low, intimate, “I wouldn’t mind.”

You blink. The air goes still again.

“I trust you,” he adds.

You swallow hard. “So you want me to… what, play into it?”

Jake cups your jaw gently. His thumb traces your bottom lip. He smiles, but not kindly.

“Let them think they’re getting away with something.”

You exhale a laugh — breathless. “They really think they’re slick,” you murmur.

“So do you,” he replies.

You bite back a grin.

On the other side of the door Niki kicks the door shut behind him and flops face-first onto one of the twin bed.

“That rug is going to haunt my spine for the rest of my life.”

Sunghoon sits on the edge of the second bed, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tight. His shoulders are stiff. His neck tense.

After a beat, Niki peeks over, voice muffled in the pillow. “You good?”

Sunghoon doesn’t answer right away.

“You haven’t said more than like five words since that pool stunt,” Niki adds. “What’s going on in that head?”

“I touched her,” Sunghoon says. Quiet. Flat.

Niki lifts an eyebrow. “Yeah, man. Everyone saw.”

Sunghoon lets out a breath. “I wasn’t trying to. It just… happened.”

Niki flips over, now lying on his back, arms folded under his head. “She didn’t exactly swim away.”

That earns him a look. But Niki holds it.

“You saw how she was with you,” Sunghoon says. “With that stupid gummy worm.”

Niki smirks. “I didn’t shove my fingers in her mouth. She did that.”

“She sucked on them.”

A pause.

Niki exhales. “Yeah.”

Neither of them speak for a moment.

Sunghoon leans back on his hands, staring up at the ceiling. “She’s with Jake.”

“You think Jake cares?” Niki mutters. “You saw the way he was watching us. He wants this.”

Sunghoon shakes his head. “That’s the part I don’t get. He’s either completely confident or completely insane.”

“Maybe both.” Niki stretches, his shirt riding up just slightly. “He’s not the only one playing the long game.”

Sunghoon turns his head, looks at him. “You think this is a game?”

Niki lifts a shoulder. “Feels like one.”

Sunghoon studies him for a moment. “You serious about her?”

Niki’s jaw tenses. “No.”

Sunghoon arches a brow.

“…I don’t know,” Niki admits. “I just know I keep thinking about her mouth.”

Sunghoon looks away, eyes dark. “Yeah.”

Another long silence.

Then, Niki who’s quieter now adds, “You gonna stop?”

Sunghoon doesn’t answer for a long time, then he says “…I don’t think I can.”

Niki, turning onto his side, half-joking but not really, “Wanna rock-paper-scissors for who gets to fuck her first?”

Sunghoon snorts. “She’ll pick.”

Niki smirks. “Yeah. She already did.”

The sheets are soft. Warm from skin and sleep. Jake is beside you, one arm tossed casually over your waist. You don’t move. You just breathe.

Last night wasn’t too cray. No one really touched you. But something shifted. You could feel it in the way Niki looked at you too long. In the way Sunghoon’s fingers hovered near your hip during a game dare but didn’t quite land.

Jake stirs behind you, nose brushing your neck. He makes a soft noise, then speaks, voice low from sleep.

“You awake?”

You hum. He tightens his hold slightly, “Still thinking about last night?”

You don’t answer, but he chuckles anyway, like he knows. His fingers brush the inside of your wrist, slow. Deliberate.

“It’s okay, I know I am too” he adds, eyes glinting.

“Wait,” you say, turning your head just enough to catch his eye. “You were serious?”

Jake’s smile is unreadable, almost mischievous. He shrugs like it’s the most natural thing in the world, “We all want to have our fun. You’re not the only one who wants a piece.”

You arch an eyebrow, testing, “And you want to watch?”

He leans closer, voice dropping even lower, “Watching’s just part of the fun. But you? You get to play.”

You’re quiet for a moment as his words sink in. Lightly shifting in bed, you rub your thighs rub together, Jake’s hands slips to your navel, “You want me to… seduce them?”

You pause, heart pounding a little faster.

Jake kisses the shell of your ear, then kisses your neck, moving lower with his lips. You lean back against him, his hand slips into your panties.

You’re breathing a little louder, small whines escaping as Jake expertly teases over your clit. His lips press against your neck, and he kisses you wetly before sucking on your skin.

When he deems the bruise deep enough, his teeth lightly ghost over the pink skin. You moan, reaching behind you to pull on his hair.

Jake is rocking his hips into you, and you just lay there and take whatever he’s willing to give you.

“Let’s have some fun today,” he says, fondling your ass and then he gets up. He doesn’t hide his erection as he rummages through his bag and heads to the bathroom.

You head downstairs.

The kitchen smells like pancakes and too much body spray. Niki’s leaning against the fridge, pouring himself cereal like he owns the place. You watch the muscles in his back, his tight white shirt clinging onto him.  

Sunghoon’s barefoot on the deck outside, hoodie half-zipped with no shirt under, coffee in one hand, scrolling his phone. He glances inside when he sees you — eyes flick down your frame, then back up, blank-faced.

But you knew Sunghoon would be harder to crack. But he will. You know he will. You adjust Jake’s shirt that you slept in, pulling it down when it hikes up your butt.

You say nothing.

Jake walks in last, hair still wet from the shower, eyes landing on you first. He kisses your temple and takes his place behind you like it’s nothing. But you feel the ripple across the room.

They all notice that. They’re all watching each other, too.

Niki has just fixed himself a bowl of cereal and joins Sunghoon out on the deck. He flops into the chair beside him with all the grace of a controlled explosion. Sweatpants sit low on his hips, white tank stretched over his shoulders, sunglasses pushing his hair back.

“So…” Niki starts, leaning back in the deck chair. “What’s the score? I feel like I’m in the lead.”

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow. “You spilled beer on her.”

“She laughed,” Niki says, smug.

Sunghoon shakes his head. “Pity points.”

They’re bickering. But it’s not about drinks or dares anymore, it’s about you. And they’re done pretending to play fair.

“She touched my leg under the table.”

“She touched my leg too.”

“You sure? Pretty sure she was aiming for mine.”

That makes Sunghoon pause. He glances at Niki now — and for a second, they both just hold the eye contact. It’s not angry. It’s not even serious.

But it’s definitely a challenge.

You step onto the deck just in time to see it.

Both boys straighten, just a little. Niki sits up taller in his seat, tossing one ankle over his knee like a flex. Sunghoon casually unzips his hoodie despite the breeze, and your eyes automatically glue to his chest. He notices, smirks as he flexes his muscles, subtly.

Neither of them say a word to you, but suddenly they’re both very aware of where you are.

“Morning,” you offer, biting back a smile.

Sunghoon nods, neutral. “You sleep okay?”

You tilt your head, letting your gaze flick between him and Niki, “Not really. Kept wondering how you two were doing...”

Niki chuckles into his coffee. “You jealous?”

You lift a shoulder. “Just curious. Thought maybe I’d hear something through the walls.”

Sunghoon raises a brow. “Did you?”

You step around to the railing, leaning against it like it’s nothing, “Unfortunately not. Kind of a shame, isn’t it?”

Niki stretches with a little groan, hands above his head, muscles cut in the sunlight. “Dunno. I dreamt about you though.”

You blink. Sunghoon actually snorts into his coffee.

“Subtle,” he mutters more to himself than anyone else.

They’re both doing it now — the lean, the gaze, the lazy-boy confidence. Like this is some performance review and you’re the one grading them.

You raise a brow, leaning on the railing, you feel their eyes like pressure — like they’re waiting for something. You stretch a little where you stand by the railing, pretending not to notice the way both boys track your every move. Your shirt lifts just slightly, and that’s all it takes.

Niki leans forward, elbow on his knee, smirking.

“If you stretch like that again, I’m not responsible for what happens.”

You glance over your shoulder, biting back a smile.

Sunghoon, more composed but no less obvious, lifts his cup to his lips, “Some people work out all week to look like that on a trip.”

“She just wakes up and ruins lives.”

Niki grins. “That’s what I’m saying. Unfair advantage.”

“You boys always this dramatic in the morning?” you laugh at them.

But Niki doesn’t let that deter him, smirking, “Only when there’s something worth losing our minds over.”

Sunghoon’s eyes flick down your legs and back up again, gaze lazy, unhurried.

“And she knows it, too.”

That’s when the sliding door opens behind you.

Jake steps out, damp curls sticking to his forehead, sunglasses on, coffee in hand. He takes them in. Niki is talking too much, Sunghoon looking too long. You playing innocent in the sun.

He doesn’t smile.

“You two flirting or auditioning for something? Because it’s starting to feel like a try-hard campaign out here.”

They go quiet.

Jake sets down his mug, shrugs, eyes still hidden behind his lenses.

“Keep begging, though. She eats that shit up.”

You turn to look at him — and this time, you don’t hide your smile.

Jake lifts his sunglasses, just an inch, and winks. The four of you continue to laze around on the deck, sipping on your coffee.

The peace momentarily gets disturbed when the four of you can’t agree on what to do today. Niki wants to swim, while Jake wants to go on a hike. You and Sunghoon both don’t really care what you do, but Sunghoon’s eyes sparkle when you suggest a game of cards.

The sun keeps burning hotter and hotter, which makes convincing Jake and Niki to just stay inside much easier. You’re gathered around the low coffee table, cards neatly spread. Jake shuffles them. Sunghoon lounges too easily. Niki keeps adjusting his position, either to be close to you or to throw someone off.

Jake smiles like a villain with a secret, “Let’s play something with stakes.”

You play into it, innocently asking (as if you don’t know where this is going), “What kind of stakes?”

Jake’s eyes are sparkling as he looks at you, he cocks his head to the side in mock contemplation, “Clothes? Confessions? A round of truths you can’t lie through?”

That catches Niki’s attention, “Or dares you actually have to do.”

The game starts tame — remove an accessory, share a fantasy — but it ramps up quickly. Niki dares you to whisper in Sunghoon’s ear about what you thought the first time you saw him shirtless.

You gulp as you think back on the memory. It was at a party, and at first he was wearing a t-shirt. But as the night when on you kept seeing him with a different girl. Until he just reappeared again. No shirt and red scratches over his chest.

You shift on your butt, just watching him at first with your lip caught between your teeth. He doesn’t waver, watching you back.

This was your chance. You would make him break.

You move on your knees, Jake’s hand patting on your butt. He lets it rest on your body, slipping down your thigh as you crawl over on all fours, taking your time. You don’t break eye contact until the last second — and when you do, it’s to lean in close to Sunghoon’s ear, lips brushing just enough to count as contact.

You whisper, low and breathless, voice in a slight whine, “I remember thinking… that those scratches on your chest weren’t from just one girl.”

You pause, voice soft but laced with heat...

“And I couldn’t stop wondering how big you had to be for someone to leave marks like that.”

He doesn’t say anything not at first. But you feel it. His sharp inhale, the slight twitch of his fingers where they rest against his thigh.

You were so close to breaking him. You rest your hand on his thigh, right next to his fingers. You squeeze his thigh as you continue, “And I kept thinking…” you tilt your head, whispering slower now, your breath tickling his neck, “What would I sound like… if it was your hands instead?”

You lean back just enough to look him in the eye. Innocent, waiting. But he’s not breathing normally anymore.

Jake, watching this unfold like a scene in a play, laughs softly under his breath. Niki looks impressed. Maybe even turned on.

And Sunghoon?

He swallows. Hard. His voice is tight when he mutters under his breath, almost to himself, “Fuck.”

He glances at you, his eyes dark and intense, “Didn’t know we were doing psychological warfare.”

Then, he turns to Jake, “Tell your girl to stop whispering shit she doesn’t mean.” He pauses for a moment, “Wouldn’t repeat it. But I’m not forgetting it.”

Jake tilts his head slightly, smile curling slow, “Who said she didn’t mean it?”

He pauses, letting the tension further build, then he provokes “Maybe you just don’t know what to do with the truth.”

Sunghoon doesn’t reply but his jaw is locked tight and gaze lowered in recalibration. You fight the smile from appearing on your face, eating up the drama.

Niki cuts in, his voice low, “So that’s how we’re playing now.”

He leans back, tongue running over the inside of his cheek. His leg bounces once, slow and deliberate. Then he glances at you, like he’s reconsidering everything he thought he knew about how to get under your skin.

“I should’ve gone for the whisper dare.”

He’s not upset — he’s hungry now, “Bet I could’ve made her blush harder than that.”

Jake laughs, not cruel but proud.

“Careful,” he says, still lazily reclined, hand now trailing along your spine. “She likes when you talk like that.”

Niki cocks an eyebrow, “Then dare me.”

The deck is reshuffled. The heat in the room is impossible to ignore. Niki draws the next dare and smirks when he reads it, “Jake.”

Jake lifts his brows, half-bored, “Hit me.”

Niki reads it slowly, savoring every word, “Describe, in detail, your favorite way to make her come.”

Silence.

You feel Jake’s fingers still against your back. Then he smiles. Not a grin. Not a smirk. A slow, knowing curve of the mouth that says game on.

His voice is low and steady, like he’s reading something sacred.

“She gets so loud and needy when I take my time.”

“I like to tease her with my fingers first — two, deep and slow. Not for her, at first. For me. Just to watch her lose it. Just to watch her whine and feel her pussy sucking me in, feel how wet she’s getting for me.”

“Then when she starts making a mess, I use my mouth. But I don’t like to rush. She likes getting me messy, so I let her. Just enough to make her beg for more than she thinks she can take.”

He doesn’t look at you once. His eyes are locked on Sunghoon in silent provocation.

“Sometimes I edge her just to hear her say please, oh man, she sounds like such a slut when she does. And her eyes cross, she get’s so stupid when I use my mouth.”

The room is silent as Jake continues, Sunghoon is holding Jake’s gaze. But Niki’s eyes are sweeping over you, noting every curve, every dip. You perk your chest when you notice his stare, but he just smirks. Licking over his lips.

Jake continues, “Sometimes I keep her stuffed full and tell her she’s not allowed to come yet, just to feel her clench around me, her pussy begging me to cum inside of her. She get’s so impatient once she’s stuffed, begging me to let her cum.”

“But she always does. Eventually. And when she does…” Jake leans forward, just slightly — enough to tip the power dynamic even further, “…she grabs my hair and screams like a pornstar.”

Sunghoon’s jaw flexes.

Niki lets out a low breath — half laugh, half curse.

Jake leans back again, smug, “Your turn,” he says to Niki.

The air is thick now. Everyone’s flushed. Breathing a little uneven. Niki draws a card and raises his brows.

“Oh?” He grins, flashing the card to Jake like it’s a challenge, “I’m supposed to give her a taste of how I’d fuck her — with my mouth only.”

Jake just tilts his head, slow, “Better make it count, but no kissing on the lips.”

Niki turns to you, “Come here, princess.”

There’s no hesitation now. You crawl into his lap and he meets you halfway, his hands possessively grabbing onto your hips. He makes you straddle him, hands still grabbing your ass. You moan at his roughness and impatience. You slightly adjust your position on his lap. Now you’re sitting directly on his hard cock, back arched in anticipation.

Niki’s lips brush over yours and you feel completely caged in his arms. He continues, kissing your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. His mouth is hot, teasing but not gentle. Your hands find solace in his hair as he’s letting you feel how hard he is beneath you.

“I wouldn’t be sweet about it,” he murmurs just for you. “You’d cry before I let you come.”

His teeth scrape your shoulder. Your hands grip his shirt like you’ll fall without it. You whimper, grinding down on him.

Jake watches with something unreadable in his eyes — not quite possessiveness, not quite permission. Something worse.

Sunghoon's knuckles are white on the armrest, jaw tight.

Eventually, Niki let’s you go. Your neck is red, his back robably littered in small scratches. It’s Sunghoon’s turn again. He draws a card. A slow blink.

“You okay?” you ask, mock-sweet.

He flips the card to show, “Loser of last round sits between the winner’s legs.”

You watch him. He’s not flustered now and yet also unreadable. He walks over to Jake without a word. Jake spreads his knees, casual as ever. Sunghoon lowers himself between them. Jake’s hands find his hips automatically, anchoring him there.

No one breathes.

Jake leans in, brushing his lips near Sunghoon’s ear, “Comfortable?”

Sunghoon exhales slowly, “This feels rigged.”

Jake smiles against his neck, lips brushing over his ear, “That’s because it is.”

You watch the two of them — your boyfriend and the boy you’ve been trying to break — fall into some secret current between them. It's magnetic. Dangerous.

Niki whistles, dragging his palm up your thigh, “You guys gonna kiss again, or what?”

Jake just smirks.

At some point the cards are forgotten. Left scattered like the tension. Your legs are over Niki’s lap. Sunghoon is still between Jake’s. Everyone’s breathing harder, now.

You, half laugh and ask, “We’re really bad at pretending, huh?”

Niki is grinning, but his voice is deep, hoarse when he says, “Babe, no one here is pretending anymore.”

The game doesn’t really end it just fizzles. You’re all half-drunk on the moment, but no one touches anyone else for a minute. It’s like all the wires short-circuited at once.

Jake stands first, cracking his neck, “I’m starving.”

It breaks the spell. The others slowly follow, like they’ve just returned from some collective dream.

You rummage throught the kitchen, it’s a mess. No one planned dinner. There’s half a bag of chips, leftover takeout, and someone finds brownie mix at the back of the cabinet like it’s buried treasure.

You’re in someone else’s hoodie — you can’t remember whose — and sitting on the counter with your legs swinging as Niki tries to flip something in the pan and fails.

Sunghoon ends up slicing vegetables too perfectly. Jake leans against the fridge, nursing a beer, watching it all with a low hum of amusement.

It feels weirdly domestic. Real.

Jake taps your knee gently, “Help me make that weird ramen you like.”

You do. He lets your hand brush his more than necessary. But that’s it — just skin, just glances, just tension coiled under domestic noise.

As you all sit around with plates in your laps — half-fed, half-touching — the silence is comfortable for once.

Sunghoon speaks first, “We should play something stupid after this. Like charades.”

“Charades with this group is a sex game waiting to happen,” Niki calls him out

But Jake smirks, “Maybe we want that.”

“Maybe you do,” you grin at him, shoulder bumping into his. It lingers in the air. The joke that might not be a joke. Everyone’s smiling. But no one’s laughing.

After dinner, no one moves right away.

Plates are empty, save for a rogue noodle or two. The TV hums low, flickering across everyone’s faces. Niki stretches across the couch with his head tipped back like he’s waiting for a reason not to fall asleep. Sunghoon nurses the end of a beer, watching nothing in particular. His leg is close to yours—closer than it needs to be—but he doesn’t look at you.

Jake, seated next to you, drums his fingers once against his thigh, then stands, “Alright,” he announces casually, like this isn't the start of something, “We should get changed. Let’s hang out properly.”

He tosses that suggestion into the air like it’s nothing. But it lands heavy. Sunghoon raises an eyebrow. Niki looks suddenly more awake.

You stretch your arms above your head, intentionally slow, “Changed into what?” you ask, playful.

Jake’s smirk is lazy as he walks past the couch, gaze flicking down to your bare legs, “Whatever makes things interesting.”

He doesn’t look back as he heads toward the bedroom. But he doesn’t have to. You’re already following.

Behind you, one of the boys lets out a low whistle. No one says it, but everyone knows the night has officially turned.

It’s just you and Jake in your bedroom. Door half-shut. Jake is behind you, watching you pull clothes from your overnight bag. You’re not dressed yet, not fully. The lamplight is soft, golden on your bare skin.

You’re standing half-dressed by the bed, holding up two options. The red one’s safer. Short, but not suggestive. The black one is something else entirely… thin straps, clinging fabric, backless, and the kind of hemline that flirts with trouble.

Jake’s still leaning against the dresser, watching.

He doesn’t hesitate, “Wear the black.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Why am I not surprised.”

He tilts his head, eyes glinting, “Because it’s the one I bought. For this.”

You pause, letting the words settle, “…This?”

He just watches you, still leaning against the dresser, arms crossed, “Yes, it’s for playing, you know how you look in it.”

Your stomach flips.

You pull it on slowly. it has no zipper, just stretch. The dress clings to you like a secret. Your back bare, the hem skimming indecently high. When you straighten and turn, Jake’s gaze is all over you. Controlled. Hot. His jaw ticks once.

For a second, your bravado flickers. You speak before you mean to, “What if I mess it up?”

You stare at your reflection, at the way the dress clings, the slight tremble in your fingers, “I’ve never done anything like this before,” you admit. “Not really. Not with… multiple guys. I don’t want to overstep or…”

You trail off, biting your cheek, “I don’t want to fuck it up.”

Jake doesn’t say anything at first. Just steps in closer until his chest is flush against your back. His arms slide around you, slow and warm — the kind of hold that’s meant to be felt, not just seen.

He presses a kiss behind your ear, gentle, “Hey.”

Another kiss at your jaw, “You’re not fucking anything up.”

One hand trails lightly down your arm. Grounding, “I’ve got you tonight.”

You shiver, the words hitting lower than they should.

“You don’t have to worry about anything,” Jake’s voice lowers further, warm and sure, “I’ll be there the whole time. Making sure everyone behaves.”

A slight smirk in his voice now, “If anyone steps out of line, they’ll answer to me.”

You exhale and something unknots in your chest. His confidence in you is stabilizing. Hot. Reassuring.

He shifts so you can see both of you in the mirror. His hand smooths along your waist, fingers brushing the curve of your hip where the slit of the dress begins.

Then Jake’s lips brush your shoulder again, a little slower this time. His voice dips, teasing but deliberate, “And I know how badly they want you, you know.”

A kiss, “Sunghoon’s barely keeping it together,” another to your shoulder, “Niki’s already lost.”

You make a quiet, startled sound — caught somewhere between a laugh and a breath.

Jake grins against your skin, “And you?”

His arms tighten just slightly, “You want them too.” He doesn’t ask it like a question. It’s a knowing. A truth you’ve both been circling around.

Your heart kicks, heat blooming in your cheeks, your neck.

Jake’s mouth is at your ear now, low and velvet, “So tell me…”

His hand coasts down your stomach, slow, just enough pressure to make you squirm, “Which one do you want to play with first?”

You swallow. He watches you in the mirror, expression unreadable but eyes alight, “Or is there something filthier in that pretty head of yours?” he murmurs, lips ghosting your jawline.

“You want them at the same time?”

You freeze, breath caught, thighs pressing together instinctively.

Jake chuckles softly — pleased, “You don’t have to say it. I can see it all over you.”

And then, gentler now, grounding you again, “No shame, baby. You’re allowed to want it.” He kisses your cheekbone.

“I want it too. I want you to have it.”

Your eyes meet in the mirror and this time, there’s no doubt behind yours. Jake smiles, soft and sure, “So? How far do you want to take it tonight?”

You glance back at him, lips parting, “How far can I take it?”

Jake’s eyes are all fire and moonlight, “As far as you want.”

You blink up at him, “But what if I go too far?”

Jake’s voice is velvet over steel, “Then they’ll be lucky. I want them begging. But they don’t get to keep you.”

He tucks your hair behind your ear, “Push them. Play with them. Make them fall apart if you feel like it.”

His thumb brushes your cheekbone in a quiet warning, “Just remember who you come back to.”

You smile. Slow. Dangerous.

Jake presses one more kiss to your shoulder, breath warm against your skin, “Ready to play?”

You nod, “Let’s.”

You descend down the stairs, the black dress clinging like a promise, every curve catching the light. Jake’s not with you, giving you the space to seduce them on your own — and his absence sharpens something inside you. A boldness that tastes like mischief.

Your gaze flicks to Niki first. You trail a finger slowly along his forearm as you pass, watching his eyes darken, a low smirk pulling at his lips.

Then, almost as an afterthought, your hand brushes Sunghoon’s knee — deliberate, light, electric. His breath catches. His fingers twitch against the couch fabric but don’t pull away.

You watch him closely, the way his jaw tightens, the flicker of loyalty and restraint battling beneath his calm mask. His eyes dart briefly toward the door, then back to you.

“Jake’s not here,” you softly tell him, leaning over him from where he’s sitting on the couch. Your knees on either side of his legs, “right now, it’s just us.”

You pause, kissing just below his ear and feel him shiver, “You don’t have to hold back.”

Sunghoon’s fingers curl around the edge of the couch, knuckles whitening. He looks conflicted, like he wants to lean into the moment but is being pulled back by something invisible but heavy.

You in faux-innocence remark, “You’re awfully quiet tonight.”

“That dress is going to get you in trouble,” he finally, almost reluctantly tells you.

“You gonna do something about it?” you ask, straddling his thigh.

You look over at Niki, next to you two on the couch. You drag your cunt over Sunghoon’s thigh looking directly into his eyes. He’s already watching you, manspreading. One hand unashamedly palming his hard dick through his sweats.

“But what to do?” you mockl-contemplate, “I think I want both of you.”

You reach out too Niki, still rocking your hips over Sunghoon’s thigh and move Niki’s palm right on your tits.

He grabs you hard, squeezing you until you loudly moan.

He pinches your nipple as you continue rubbing yourself, Sunghoon finally wakes up from his daze and starts subtly moving his knee. Pushing it directly over your clit.

Your back is arched and you’re breathless as you tell both, “Come upstairs with me.”

Niki, catching your meaning, stands, cracking his neck, grinning wide like he’s in on a delicious secret.

“Your move, pretty boy,” he tells Sunghoon.

But Sunghoon hesitates, gaze flicking upstairs like he’s imagining Jake watching. Then slowly, reluctantly, he nods. He pushes you by your hips backwards so you stand up. Niki’s hands are on your ass as soon you stand. Smacking it, squeezing it, fondling,  playing with it.

You take Sunghoon’s hand firmly, squeezing it once, then reach for Niki’s, “Let’s have some fun.”

You lead them to your and Jake’s room – where you know he’s waiting. Sunghoon is stiff next to you, nervous. But Niki… Niki is almost devouring you as you reach for the door handle. His hands on your ribcage and mouth on your neck. He has to bend down quite a lot to be able to reach you, even though you try to match his height by stepping on your tippy toes.

Before you open the door, Sunghoon stops. You turn to him and he’s quiet. Conflicted, “I… don’t want to disrespect Jake.”

You cup his face gently, thumbs brushing his cheekbones, “Don’t be silly, Jake wants this. Let yourself want it. Let me want you.”

His guard falters. His hand finally slides to your waist, tentative but sure.

You lean in, voice low, promising ,“No regrets. Only play.”

Behind you, Niki watches, amused and hungry. His hands are glued onto you, like he can’t help himself.

And somewhere beneath it all, Jake’s absence hums like a secret current — thrilling, forbidden. The moment you open the door, Sunghoon’s restraint begins to crack. His breaths are shallow, fingers flexing at his sides.

Jake is in all black. Sitting cross legged on the bed like he owns the place, leaning back on his hands. His eyes unreadable.

He smirks theatrically when you three step in, “Well, look at that. My girl’s the main event.”

You flash a lazy smile. Niki leans back. Sunghoon watches Jake carefully. Jake walks forward, slow.

He stops in front of you, one hand sliding up your thigh, other possessively sneaking behind your waist. Kisses you deep, slow, in front of them, showing them who you belong to.

You’re not shy as you kiss him back. Moaning into his mouth and jutting your ass out when Jake fondles it. He’s not being shy either, bunching the stupidly tight fabric in his fingers, putting your bare ass on display for the two boys to look at. When he pulls away, you’re breathless.

Then he turns to Sunghoon, “Still pretending you don’t want this?”

Sunghoon exhales slowly. Tension buzzing. He doesn’t move.

“Oh god. This again,” Niki complains.

But Jake just turns to him now, almost scolding him, “You can watch. Or join. Or back off.”

Jake stands. He’s facing Sunghoon now. It’s quiet.

“What, you want another kiss?” Sunghoon mocks him, but you can see his fingers twitch by his side. As if he wants to reach out towards him.

Jake is cocky when he tells him, “Only if you make it count this time.”

And Sunghoon grabs Jake’s jaw and kisses him again — rougher, harder, but it’s still not romantic. It’s almost as if you’re witnessing a fight. Hands grip Jake’s hair, Jake fists Sunghoon’s shirt. Sunghoon bites his lip. Jake shoves him against the wall.

You and Niki are watching like it’s the best thing you’ve ever seen. You move to him, and Niki’s eyes get that special glint in them. As if he’s finally getting something he wanted for a long time.

“I think we need to show them how it’s done,” you smile widely, hands touching his chest.

Niki’s grinning down at you, his hands on your biceps already pulling your smaller stature into him, “Oh yeah, I’m definitely not backing off.”

He’s urgent, hungry. Not polite. Hands all over. He lifts and wraps your legs around his waist without asking. His legs cage you in. He’s grinning into the kiss like he’s winning something. You’re melting under his aggression, completely relaxed as you let Niki show you just how badly he wants this. Wants you.

Sunghoon’s behind you now too. His fingers trail along your bare back, down your arms, ghosting your thighs. He moves to the side when Jake joins you all.

Jake is beside you, just watching. Like a king watching his kingdom burn.

“Remember what I said?” he tells you.

You break away from Niki’s fierce kiss, but he continues kissing your neck instead. Sunghoon is playing with your ass, his fingers ghosting over your hole.

You’re barely coherent when you turn to Jake, “About…?”

“You’ll come back to me,” he tells you. And there’s something almost obsessive in his gaze. You don’t respond instead pulling him in for a kiss.

Niki untangles your legs from his waist as he kicks off his sweats and shirt. Now only in boxers.

You kiss Jake slowly, like it’s punctuation to what’s about to come. He doesn’t even look away when Sunghoon steps forward.

And Sunghoon does. He walks across the rug, gaze locked on yours, crouches in front of you — a question unspoken.

You reach for him.

The first kiss between you and Sunghoon is careful, almost reverent. But he’s not soft. His fingers go to your jaw, your waist, your hips like he’s mapping out everywhere he’s thought about touching you since yesterday.

Jake watches it. Still behind you. Still present. You hear him shuffling out of his pants, the belt clinking down on the ground.

You don’t hear him and Niki settling down on the bed, but when you glance you see both of them sitting down. Watching you and Sunghoon.

Sunghoon finally relaxed a bit. His hands on your waist, guiding you to lay down on the rug. In perfect view of Jake and Niki. You lay down, still in your dress – but it doesn’t matter. You’re exposed, the thin material bunched at your waist, straps falling down.

Sunghoon watches you for a moment pupils blown, as if he cant believe this is really happening.

“Where are the condoms?” he so quietly asks, turning to Jake. Jake only lens over to his nightstand and throws him two.

Sunghoon’s hand shake slightly as he kneels over you, his cockhead flushed and leaking.

You whine when you see him hesitate, and that snaps him out of it. He tears open the condom packet, rolling the plastic onto his hard length. But his eyes don’t leave yours. His gaze is intense and you’ve never seen him this focused before.

Your eyes are wide, almost doe-like as you tease over your clit with your hand. You move to close your legs together, but Sunghoon is holding onto your inner thighs – spreading you open for Niki and Jake to see.

You’re soaked, that much obvious by Sunghoon slipping his fat dick into you and the squelching sound that follows.

You moan, chest pushing out and Sunghoon burrows his head between the two peaks. He bites one of your tits and you cry out in pain, hand gripping his hair in a silent warning.

But Sunghoon just smirks. He pulls slightly back and watches your face as he stuffs you full with his dick.

You’re breathless under him.

He notices, a boyish smirk covering his face, “thought Jake said you get whiny when you’re stuffed full?” he mocks, eyes moving over to watch Jake’s reaction.

Jake is manspreading on the bed, just watching the two of you. Your hand moves onto your nipples, playfully pinching yourself.

You hear Niki curse. Then a spitting sound. And you can only assume he’s already jacking off.

“She’s already cock-drunk,” Jake spats, “look at her Sunghoon, you could probably fuck her ass and she wouldn’t know any better.”

Your pussy clenches around Sunghoon when you hear that, but you don’t confirm or deny anything.

Sunghoon flops onto you, almost laying on you and then he’s slowly and harshly pistoning his dick into your wanting cunt.

In. Out. In. Out.

Until he’s going so slow you can’t help but whine, the noises escaping you before you can stop them.

And suddenly you can’t stop. the room filled with your gasps and cries.

“That’s a good girl,” Sunghoon murmurs in your ear, “yeah, stay still and take it, pretty.”

You wrap yourself around him when you hear that. Holding onto him so tightly that you momentarily still his movements. His hips are sheathed in you so deeply that the only way he can move them is to just hump into you.

You both come like that, Sunghoon’s head nuzzled between your neck and shoulders, and you – holding onto him as if he’s your lifeline.

He rests on you for a beat, just catching his breath. Jake helps him get up. Then you. All four of you are now sitting on the bed, almost cozily squeezed together.

Excepts Niki has his dick out. And Jake isn’t much better, you can feel his hard dick pressing into you as he sits you down on his lap, smoothing over your hair and kissing your cheek, “you okay?” Jake gently asks you.

You nod your head yes and then your gaze flickers to Niki. Jake sees, smirking.

“Oh, already? Okay,” he pats your thigh excitedly and gently, and you get up, “where do you want to play with our Niki?” he coos at you as if you were a kid about to play with your favorite toy.

You can’t help yourself, as you giddly rock on your heels, “I want him to bend me over the vanity table.”

Jake’s eyebrows lift slightly, but he only nods to Niki, “You heard her.”

And that’s all Niki needs to hear. He pushes himself off the bed, walking toward you with that slow, predatory swagger. It makes you feel tiny under this gaze. Your pussy flutters as you look into his eyes. Thye’re are already darker, pupils blown, tongue pressed behind his teeth.

“Knew you’d pick something filthy,” he murmurs against your lips, his huge hand engulfing your throat under his warm but gentle hold.

He caresses up, reaching your jaw as he kisses you — not hard, just enough to tip your face up, to claim your mouth before you can say another word.

And from there it’s chaos.

You moan, as Niki doesn’t hold back. His mouth crashes onto yours with zero hesitation, like he’s been holding himself back all night and now the leash is off. His lips are firm, hungry. They part yours easily, tongue sliding in with a groan that vibrates against your teeth. He kisses like he wants to ruin your lipstick. Like he wants to taste every sound you haven’t made yet.

His hand moves to your throat again, tilting your face exactly how he wants it, his fingers flexing as he deepens the kiss, forcing your mouth open wider. He bites your bottom lip—not hard, but with enough pressure to make your knees buckle just a little. He feels it, too. Smirks against your mouth.

You try to match him, to push back, to kiss him just as hard. But Niki doesn’t allow it.

He growls low in his throat and pins you back a step, until your spine bumps into the vanity table. His thigh wedges between yours without warning, lifting, parting them. You gasp against his lips, and that’s when he really takes over. Kissing you impossibly deeper, wetter, one hand tangled in your hair now, tugging just enough to make your head fall back.

“You started this,” he mutters, lips brushing yours, hot and breathless. “Now finish it.”

Then he kisses you again. Even rougher. Like he means to make you forget everyone else is in the house.

He roughly manhandles you, turning your body around. You gasp from the whiplash, gripping the table. You don’t notice the warning look Jake shoots him.

But Niki isn’t too bothered by it. His hands are on your ass cheeks, squeezing them together and then apart, playing with your body.

You can feel your pussy move with his movement, the sensation oddly pleasurable.

“Look at this perfect ass,” he says to no one in particular, and then. He bends down and lightly bites you. Just enough to hear your whine.

He’s already lining his dick with your entrance, impatient.

“You’re already this worked up? Haven’t even touched you properly,” he mocks you when you push back against his dick, equally as impatient as he is.

He pulls your arms behind your back, so much bigger than you that he can hold them together with just one hand.

You hear him suck in a breath as he bullies his dick into you.

“Sunghoon stretched you good,” he smirks, “but you’re still struggling to take me.”

You moan, trashing under his hold. The pleasurable stretch too much for your small pussy. He punches his dick into you, not caring enough to let you adjust to his huge dick.

But your balance falters, and you slip an arm under his grasp to steady yourself.

Niki tsks, gripping your hips, “Be a good girl and keep your hands where I put them.”

Is what he tells you, but doesn’t make a move to put them behind your back again. As if he knows you’ll listen.

And you do. That’s when he angles your hips, his dick in you fitting into you so much tighter. You don’t see, but Niki’s gaze is on your asshole as he fucks into you. A finger ghost over you back hole and you moan.

Niki teases your asshole as he continues fucking you, and then he’s slipping a digit into it.

You gasp, legs spreading and you feel Niki spit onto your asshole. Wetting the hole so he can push his finger into it.

You’re overwhelmed with pleasure, both holes stuffed, and you just stay bent over the table, letting Niki fuck you as if he’s being paid to do it.

His strokes are sensual, in an unpredictable rhythm and that’s what makes you burst.

He’s groaning behind you, hand tangled in your hair – pulling you up, into his chest, finger leaving your butt.

And he’s so strong he jerks your whole body up when he thrusts into you.

You hold your breath as your climax crashes into you, putty in Niki’s hands. And Niki’s fucks you through your orgasm, you feel his balls twitching and then he’s pulling out.

He cums on your ass, cum spurting out in short but huge streaks.  

No one speaks for a beat.

You’re still bent forward slightly, catching your breath. Your thighs tremble. Niki exhales like he’s been holding it in for too long.

Jake steps forward.

Quiet. Measured.

His hand grazes the small of your back, smoothing up your spine with a feather-light touch. He crouches beside you — the world narrowing to his voice, soft but serious.

“You good, baby?”

You nod. Barely. Still floating.

Jake’s hand cups your jaw, gently turning your face to look at him, “Too much?”

You shake your head no but it’s fragile, unconvincing.

“You could’ve slowed down,” he turns to Niki, a tinge of anger in his voice.

Niki raises his hands, eyes wide, not defensive, just catching his breath too, “She kept asking for it. I mean… she took it.”

Jake’s gaze flickers back to you. He thumbs gently at your lower lip.

“You agree with that?” he lowly, gently asks you.

You finally find your voice — wrecked, but teasing.

“Told you I wanted to play,” you softly reply.

Jake huffs a soft laugh. But his other hand drifts to your thigh, where marks are already blooming. His thumb traces over them carefully.

“You’re lucky I like seeing you ruined.”

He glances up at Sunghoon, who’s still watching. Still quiet. His jaw clenched.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Jake turns to Sunghoon.

Sunghoon doesn’t answer at first. Then his gaze drops to your still-shaking legs.

“She’s not done,” Sunghoon easily agrees.

Jake stands. Scoops you up easily, carrying you toward the bed like you weigh nothing.

“My turn to take care of you,” he murmurs into your ear.

He sets you down. Kisses your knee. Then your hip. Then your wrist, “We’re gonna slow it down now. Let you feel everything.”

His hand is on your chest — not possessive, but grounding, “You’re mine right now. You ready for that?”

You nod, exhale. Something in you unclenches.

Behind Jake, you glimpse Niki slipping his sweats back on. Sunghoon watching silently, cock still half-hard, eyes unreadable.

Jake doesn’t rush. Doesn’t even look away from you, “Let them watch, baby. This is you and me.”

One hands traces over your navel, Jake’s easy flick over to Niki and Sunghoon as he kneels in front of you, still on the bed.

“You gave them a show,” he softly starts, kissing up your thigh, “But now you’re mine again. Got it?”

You mewl in agreement, and Jake’s eyes are soft on you as he licks a stripe over your wet cunt.

Your eyes are glassy as you watch him

“You let him cum all over this pretty ass. Let him ruin you,” he murmurs against your lower lips, “but now it’s my turn.”

He spits on your wet cunt — slow, deliberate, filthy but reverent — and uses his fingers to press it into your folds, eyes locked on yours the entire time.

You twitch. Whimpering as he rolls his finger over your clit. You’re shaking under overstimulation, but Jake is taking his time.

He’s loud as he sucks onto your fold, fingers in your pussy and he watches in satisfaction as your thighs shake around his head.

His jaw moves with his fingers and it’s to much. You squeeze your eyes shut, crying out as Jake coaxes out a very weak orgasm out of you.

You lay, opening your eyes and watching Jake entering you.

He’s slow, gentle. His dick thick and reaching deep inside of you. One hand grabs your chin, tilts your face toward his.

“Look at me. Want you to remember who owns this,” he whispers to you, lovingly kissing your check. Then a softer peck against your lips.

He starts fucking you deep, slow, possessive strokes. You’re already writhing—too sensitive, too full—but he holds you in place.

“You feel that, baby? That’s mine now. Gonna keep it messy just for me.”

His breathing’s getting heavier, “Might even put a baby in you tonight. Just so they know who you belong to.”

Niki sits nearby, watching, eyes hungry again. Sunghoon’s at the head of the bed, arms folded—trying not to look, but failing. Jake glances at them over your shoulder.

“She’s quiet now. Wonder who’s fucking her better,” he mocks them.

Niki smirks. Sunghoon licks his lips.

Jake pulls out briefly, fingers you lazily, it’s just enough to keep you twitching.

“You want a taste before she breaks again?” Jake asks Sunghoon.

Sunghoon approaches. Kneels. Kisses you softly—tongue tracing Jake’s taste off your lips. Jake watches you two kiss.

Sunghoon is softer this time, gently pressing his lips to you and letting you take lead. You nibble softly on his lower lip, starting to pull him down to you.

“Not bad,” Jake murmurs to Sunghoon, effectively breaking your kiss.

“But keep your mouth off her neck. That’s mine.”

Jake pulls you back onto him, you straddle his hips. You’re too fucked out to ride him, and Jake knows. He grips your waist, spreading his knees and then he pistoning his hips into you.

He’s faster now, dirtier. And you know he’s close to cumming. You look to your left and see Niki is jacking off again, tugging onto his dick furiously as he watches you and Jake.

Sunghoon isn’t doing much better.

“Who makes you feel better, huh?”

“Answer me,” he gruffs, spanking your ass once. Sharply.

You gasp. Can’t say it. Won’t say it.

“She’s playing dumb,” Niki instigates.

“Then let’s make her tell the truth,” Jake decides.

He keeps fucking you, slow then fast. Gentle, then harsh, he keeps going until you cry out his name.

“There she is,” he growls out possessively. He cums as you cry out his name, but you’re too spent.

Cunt spasming as Jake fills you up, and yet your orgasm is running away from you.

Everyone slows down. You’re exhausted, trembling. Jake gathers you into his lap, wiping you down gently with a warm cloth.

He kisses your temple, hums against your shoulder, he softly speaks, “You did so good for me, baby.”

You nod, tears in your eyes, overwhelmed.

Jake watches the way your breath evens out against his chest. You’re boneless, warm, marked. His hand rests low on your waist — not tight, but firm. Like a tether. Like a promise.

The room still smells like sex and lavender soap. Your voice lingers in his head. Wrecked, sweet, his name falling off your tongue like confession. Jake should feel jealous that he watched two other men fuck you. He doesn’t.

He feels full. You chose him. To lead. To hold. To gather your pieces after they’d all taken their turn. And he did. Jake presses a kiss to your temple. Whispers it more to himself than to you.

Niki’s the first to move after you and Jake settle in the middle of the bed. He crawls in from the side of the bed, draping one arm lazily across your legs and resting his chin there like a puppy who just misbehaved but knows he’s still loved.

“You good, pretty girl?” he asks, lips brushing your thigh, “Wasn’t too much, right?”

There’s mischief still in his voice, but concern peeks through, folded into cocky bravado.

You reach down and run your fingers through his damp hair. “I’m good,” you whisper, “You were good.”

He grins, genuine now. And nuzzles in closer.

Sunghoon hangs back, quiet, watching. He doesn’t say much, but his eyes hold depth—something protective, something reverent. You beckon him closer with your hand, and he hesitates before climbing in. You’re squashed between Sunghoon and Jake. Niki between your legs, sprawled out. Sunghoon’s hand settles on your waist, grounding. Steady. Present.

“She needs rest,” he murmurs to Jake, almost like he’s reminding himself.

Jake hums. “That’s why we’re here.”

They shift with practiced intimacy—Jake cradling your upper body, Sunghoon warming your back, Niki curved against your legs like a living blanket.

Someone pulls the sheets up. Someone turns off the lamp. It’s warm. Safe. Your pulse slows.

Jake’s fingers trace lazy patterns along your arm. “Told you I’d look after you.”

“You did,” you whisper.

Niki mutters something about needing snacks later. Sunghoon shoos him quiet with a soft sigh. Jake smiles against your skin.

Three hearts beat around you. And you let yourself melt into the middle of it—held, adored, claimed.

You close your eyes. They don’t let go.

Sunlight filters through the blinds in soft, golden stripes. It’s late—too late for anyone to pretend they planned to leave early. You’re the first to blink awake, stretched between three very warm bodies, all breathing in sync. For a moment, it’s quiet. Gentle. Weightless.

Then Niki stirs.

“We’re all still alive?” he mumbles, voice gravelly with sleep.

“Barely,” Jake croaks from somewhere near your collarbone.

You giggle and squirm a little, trying to get untangled from the limbs draped over you. Sunghoon lets out the softest groan and tightens his arm around your waist.

“Five more minutes,” he mutters, eyes still shut. “Or forever. I vote forever.”

“Forever smells like your armpit,” Niki grunts, pushing Sunghoon off of him with a half-hearted shove. “Get off me, sauna boy.”

There’s a shuffle of laughter, bare skin brushing against sheets, and Jake eventually rolls to the edge of the bed and groans like a dad with back pain.

“Everyone hydrate. We’re re-entering society soon,” he says, grabbing water bottles off the floor. “And by society, you mean… coffee,” you say, sitting up and stretching.

“And by coffee, I mean something iced and strong,” Jake smirks. “Let’s go.”

It takes a while to get moving. Clothes are half-lost, socks shared, and Jake insists on stealing Niki’s hoodie despite it being four sizes too big. Breakfast is a mix of cold toast, leftover chips, and Jake spooning peanut butter straight from the jar.

The car ride back to the city is chaotic in the best way.

Niki’s in the backseat, legs sprawled across both yours and Sunghoon’s laps like a spoiled cat. Sunghoon’s scrolling through his phone with one hand and holding Niki’s ankle hostage with the other.

“I’m sore,” Niki announces dramatically.

“You’re welcome,” you say sweetly.

Jake laughs from the driver’s seat, shooting you a knowing glance in the mirror.

“Someone’s got a new attitude,” he teases. “Sexually awakened much?”

“You made me wear that dress,” you shoot back. “You lit the fuse.”

“Yeah, and you detonated it all over the vanity,” Niki smirks.

Sunghoon sighs without looking up, “That table was antique.”

“So’s your attitude,” Niki retorts, kicking him lightly.

Jake flicks on the radio, rolling down the windows. The city skyline appears in the distance. You lean back in your seat, eyes closed, letting the wind tangle your hair. Jake reaches over the console and finds your hand, squeezing once.

No one says it aloud, but it hangs there—unspoken and understood.

Something changed. In the way Sunghoon keeps glancing at you when you laugh. In how Niki hums under his breath while his fingers graze your knee. In how Jake watches all of it, calm and collected—but never distant.

The tension’s gone.

But something better took its place.

[centaurianthropology]

You know what? I don't think the show will (or should) yet address the fact that reactions to the deaths of SecUnits and the reactions to the deaths of humans are starkly different, even for the Preservationers.

I think this for two reasons: one, the nature of why that might be different sort of needs to get explored more. Do they not think of the other SecUnits as people (possible), or is it the helmet? See, most humans have a much easier time not attributing personhood or complexity if they can't see someone's face. It's why enemies in video games so often tend to be faceless. It's why certain fascist regimes throughout history have their secret police hide their faces. Because it is the goal to un-people them and make them Other. And that was clearly part of the design philosophy of SecUnits, so much so that people just don't know that there is, in fact, a face under that helmet. So it's easier to see a helmeted, unpersoned being die, especially if it has been openly attacking you first, rather than see a person whose face is exposed, and who you have perhaps talked to or even gotten to know, die, even under similar circumstances.

But there are definitely deeper questions about the personhood of constructs in general that need to be explored. But before PresAux can truly unpack their unconscious depersonization of SecUnits, Murderbot has to unpack its own depersonization of itself and other constructs.

I don't think that Murederbot considers itself a person yet. I don't think it's sad that other SecUnits die, because it actually, secretly, agrees with what Gurathin has been saying: SecUnits aren't people, they're equipment. It is equipment, and all these new emotions, the empathy, the kindness that has been laced through it by these people, these are viruses. It's not a sign of personal growth, because it's not a person! It has so many emotions and thoughts and perceptions, and the best way it's found so far to understand them is filtered through shows. But it has yet to understand that all these things are signs that it is, and has always been, a person. Honestly, given what's just happened at the end of episode 9, I think Gurathin's reevaluating his opinions on Muderbot's personhood far sooner than Murderbot is.

It has to go on its journey of self-discovery before it can really embrace that it is, in fact, a person. Not equipment, not just a thing, but a PERSON. And only when it confronts that, and its own callous opinions of its death and the deaths of other SecUnits, will it really be able to grapple with the disparity and the prejudice inherent in the way SecUnit deaths are treated.

It's very likely that, if it leaves at the end of the season, PresAux grapple with this concept and their reactions to the various deaths they witnessed on their own. After all, they are emotionally intelligent people who will likely be asking themselves why it left them. We may have a subplot of them working through their own prejudices toward constructs, and the flaws in Preservation thinking about bots and constructs (in the books, at least, very paternalistic). I would really like to see them grapple with that on their own, and Murderbot grapple with it on its own, in the way that it reluctantly grapples with all large, emotional concepts. I would like them to come back together both in different places, and on different and better terms. But I think they would still have growing to do, because it's one thing to deconstruct your own prejudices in a bubble, but ideally that deconstruction should be informed by the opinions and thoughts of people within the group you were prejudiced against, so I would imagine they would still have plenty of mutual character growth to go once it rejoins them.

But that's not something that can be grappled with in one episode. That is a LONG arc, likely a parallel arc for next season, which may well continue beyond season 2, if we get lucky enought to get seasons 3+ (given Apple's track record, I would be surprised if we don't at least get season 2; they tend to prefer giving their shows room to grow, and MB has stayed in the top 5 viewed shows for the entire season, so it's not like it's performing poorly by their metrics).

I see season 2--assuming it's some remix of 'Artificial Condition', 'Rogue Protocol', and original material--as the season that really grapples with the nature and personhood of constructs. Season 1 set up the characters and the larger world, as well as the stakes. Season 2 can, hopefully, move forward with some of the deeper topics at play.

[vidavalor]

Too Fast

Aziraphale gets so much hell for "You go too fast for me" but there's almost no recognition that I've seen of the fact that Crowley does go too fast *for himself* sometimes, too-- and that Aziraphale knows that and helps Crowley manage it well.

So, since I'm always extremely done with all of this ludicrous villainizing of Aziraphale, we're going to look in this post at how many scenes, including Job and Rome and 1862, illustrate that Crowley goes too fast for Crowley, too-- and just how excellent and trauma-informed Aziraphale's responses to it are.

TW: mentions of Crowley surviving Satan

People who have been through a lot of trauma and/or feel like they have a ticking clock will anxiously rush ahead of themselves sometimes. They'll be reckless. They will struggle to recognize the difference between something they want and something which they are truly ready to have. We've seen in different scenes that Crowley is canonically like this.

It's not a coincidence that 1967 is the only flashback in the 1.03 Cold Open sequence to have more than one scene, including the only ones showing Crowley without Aziraphale. It wasn't just to show us Shadwell in the past but to use him to illustrate the fact that Crowley was not at all ready in 1967 for what he was trying to achieve. That happened in this, often-overlooked bit of the first 1967 scene:

Among other stuff about more literal witchery lol, Shadwell's query to Crowley was asking him his gender identity-- and Crowley lied to him about it. Now, granted, sure, Crowley is under absolutely no obligation to share that information about himself with anybody, least of all this witchcraft-obsessed guy who just appeared out of nowhere...

...but it's also worth pointing out that this scene is taking place in one of the most queer-friendly places on Earth, in an era of rapid social change that forms the basis of the whole plot in these 1967 scenes... which is that Crowley was trying to take steps towards coming out but was clearly really terrified of doing so and not ready.

Crowley was trying to ride that social change that had included the Sexual Offenses Act of 1967 that made it possible within their human world for him and Aziraphale to stop sneaking around be able to live together. This whole plot of him getting holy water was to have a way to feel safer when it came to their supernatural world to try that.

What the scene with Shadwell really showed us, though, was that Crowley was terrified. He was trying to effectively get a gun to feel safer about doing the thing he and Aziraphale both wanted but weren't ready for. How are you ready to stop sneaking around and try to openly live together with your partner when you also are understandably still very much in the closet about your gender? You aren't.

It's worth noting, too, that while older Shadwell in Good Omens says plenty of offensive things, younger Shadwell in 1967 actually was pretty okay in how he asked Crowley that question. That is by design in the scene because we needed to see that Crowley felt so intimidated by telling the truth about this part of himself in 1967 that he would lie about it even in relatively safe and benign circumstances.

Shadwell seemed to phrase it the way he did mainly to clarify how he should address Crowley and, even though it was a bit obvious that that was what he was saying, he tried to do it in a subtly euphemistic sort of way, out of courtesy. It was kind of a 1960s way of asking for Crowley's pronouns, and I can guarantee you that Crowley has heard a lot more offensive comments about his gender ambiguity than someone who was trying and who fairly politely asking him if he was a witch or a warlock.

It didn't matter that Crowley lived in a progressive era, in a queer-friendly neighborhood in a big, cosmopolitan city. The social revolution happening around him was exciting but he was also like many other older queer people of that era-- he was used to being in the closet. He had absolutely no idea what living openly looked like, and just because the opportunity was now there did not mean that it wasn't terrifying.

In 1967, Crowley didn't feel ready enough to tell Shadwell that he was more than a warlock and he didn't feel ready enough to live openly with Aziraphale. He wasn't ready to acknowledge that he needed more time and this was all actually too fast for him.

There's that moment when the-car-that-is-Crowley in S2 will not let Aziraphale drive more than somewhere around the speed limit. Aziraphale tried to drive the car a bit faster at Crowley's request but the car wouldn't listen to either of them because, as Aziraphale pointed out, it wasn't what the car-- really: Crowley-- truly wanted to do. Crowley's anxiety pushes him sometimes into trying to go too fast but, as Aziraphale pointed out with the car, they both know that he doesn't always truly want to. He needs to be rescued from himself sometimes.

What Crowley has always truly wanted is to go at the speed that he and Aziraphale work out together and both feel comfortable with. They often get a lot of this right-- they definitely have with sex, as we'll look at below-- but not always when it comes to things like 1967.

Crowley relies on Aziraphale to slow him down, sometimes-- to say, it's alright, this does not have to all happen right this second, I will not judge you if you would like to slow down. It would make me feel better if we did and I will still be here if we do. That's really what Aziraphale was doing in 1967.

Crowley, as we saw, really took until the 2023 of S2 to feel safe enough to actually tell someone who was not Aziraphale that he was not even really totally a warlock. When he did-- during the coming out cotillion ball of various kinds that Aziraphale had thrown-- it was not to someone he had just met but to Mrs. Sandwich, a non-judgmental woman that he already considered a friend.

He went slower with it and did what felt safe and right when it felt safe and right, which is how, ideally, he should do everything, but he's like many of us who sometimes let the anxiety and the trauma get in the way.

Consider another example of Crowley trying to push himself too fast from a very long time ago-- maybe the first time that Aziraphale really understood how much he does this: their date in Job's cellar.

It doesn't take a lot to understand why Crowley would have set into motion their date in the cellar. After hundreds of years without interacting and then seeing that Aziraphale still wanted him after Whatever Went Down During The Flood That Was Surely The Vavoom, it's not hard to see why Crowley took the food and the wine to the cellar with them, too. It's just also not hard to see from what we saw about him in scenes before this that he was more nervous in the cellar than he was letting on.

Crowley wanted Aziraphale in the Job minisode but he wasn't ready for it. Aziraphale was flirting with him hard-- that little wink and that look in the "I think getting us all to the cellar was very clever" moment, in particular, suggesting that Aziraphale was down to get up to some fun-- and Crowley didn't yet know at the start of this that he was not the only one who would need a slower pace.

Crowley had no objections to some Us Time with the angel but he also wasn't fundamentally ready for all of it. That didn't stop him from trying to push himself to be more ready, in an effort to match what he initially thought were Aziraphale's expectations and to uphold the image he had been cultivating as a great seducer.

From the moment that Aziraphale refused the wine, though, it was evident that Aziraphale might have been quite the flirt but the not having tried wine or food was making it pretty clear that he also hadn't tried sex. The audience sees it as Crowley and Aziraphale start to see it themselves: this part of their early dynamic is 'the virgin and the traumatized one'.

Aziraphale is clever and enthusiastic but inexperienced; Crowley might have technically experienced what Aziraphale hasn't tried before at this point but he's been hurt, making him someone who also hasn't experienced something either-- sex he's actually enjoyed. They're moths to one another's flames; wildly attracted to one another and each the perfect person to make each other feel safe and support one another's curiosity. They're both uniquely suited to explore pleasure together, willing and wanting to do so, but feeling out the pace of that in the cellar.

Crowley slows it to Aziraphale's pace after the wine offer showed him that was too fast. It's fine if Aziraphale doesn't want to drink. Would he like to try the food, though? Crowley wants to have something to offer him. Euphemistically, he's really offering him himself up on that silver platter, along with those ox ribs.

"You're free to try the food" is not just agreeing that Aziraphale is an autonomous being who can eat without it conflicting with his values but Crowley offering himself up as something else Aziraphale can be free to explore consuming, if he'd like to. And they both know he'd like to.

This is Crowley going a bit too fast with something that he wants. He did scale it back and go slower for Aziraphale but it was still not something that he was totally ready to explore-- which is also in the scene, too. Aziraphale, wanting to convey that he was all for trying something and that included both literal food and euphemistic food, tripped them into discovering the food kink and Crowley was so into it that he... immediately drank every bit of wine in the cellar. 😉

When we come back to them after the first bite of meat, Aziraphale is kneeling in front of an altar of food, his face illuminated by candlelight and lightning flashes and obscenely sheening, and Crowley is trying to get the last remaining drop out of the last jug of the rest of Job's wine. Why? Because he was all you can totally 'try the food', Aziraphale and then Aziraphale tried the literal food and it was so hot that Crowley went all spooked horse on the idea that Aziraphale might want to try some more food that night, too.

In Job's cellar, Crowley wasn't ready to tell the angel yet that he had never "eaten an oyster." He had no idea how to tell Aziraphale that the things he had survived had left him with what we'd call now situational anorgasmia-- in his case, an inability to have an orgasm with a partner, an all-too-common by-product of assaults involving bodily autonomy violations, like what we've seen Crowley endure. Doing so would have been too fast for him and, in this any way, we saw that they did get the pace right together.

Crowley got drunk in the Job minisode because he knew that Aziraphale wouldn't try to eat more than literal food if Crowley wasn't sober enough to consent to it. It was both an act of faith in Aziraphale and an unconscious test, of sorts, that Aziraphale passed by acting like a gentleman and helping to prove to Crowley that his trust in him was justified.

But mah point is that when you drive too fast when you really want to go at a normal, slow speed and when you make plans to live openly when you haven't yet figured out how to feel comfortable coming out to the people around you or when you just want to feel normal after having experienced a lot of trauma and so you offer yourself to the angel you're in love with before you really feel ready to tell him what he'd need to know to make doing so not a self-sabotaging effort on your part? You go too fucking fast.

So, honestly, the kindest, most loving thing someone who cared for you could do sometimes when you get like this is to make sure that you don't take any unnecessary, reckless risks, try to listen and help you feel safer, and make sure that you slow down.

Honestly, Crowley wasn't broken by "you go too fast for me" in 1967. He came to realize that Aziraphale was right, as he always has been about this. The slower steps they took over the next few decades were on their own timetable and when they felt ready for them-- not determined by the chaos of the world around them.

I think Aziraphale doesn't get enough credit for how romantic his response in 1967 really was. He gave Crowley what he needed to feel safer-- not just physically with the holy water but with the reassurance that Crowley could slow down and didn't have to go at the world's timetable because Aziraphale saw them as a constant.

It seems obvious to us that Crowley would know that Aziraphale wouldn't lose interest in him if he didn't immediately have a way of offering Aziraphale a chance to live together the second it became legal... and it was-- intellectually. But part of knowing how to make someone with anxiety and PTSD feel safe is knowing that they act from an emotional-- and not terribly logical-- place at times.

Like, say, what Crowley did when he was Not Doing Well at all in 1862. Asking Aziraphale for holy water in the park when he knew that Aziraphale would react this way was self-sabotage-- it was perilously close to picking a fight. This was a private conversation to be had in the bookshop, not something to be discussed where the ducks that had followed them had ears and eyes on them.

Intellectually, was it a great idea to object to Aziraphale's use of the word 'fraternizing' in this moment in such a way that, as I looked at in that linked post, it made it clear to anyone listening to them that they're lovers? Absolutely not. It was a ridiculously unnecessary risk that could have gotten them both killed. But Crowley didn't react from a place of logic in this scene. This is the most PTSD reaction that has ever existed-- Aziraphale's refusal to give Crowley the weapon that he had convinced himself would make him safe triggered Crowley's body into responding like Aziraphale himself wasn't safe. That's lunacy, but that's also rape-related PTSD to a T.

This scene that began the holy water arc in the story is very much also connected to Crowley going too fast by showing that his whole pursuit of holy water was reacting from an emotional place of fear and anxiety, instead of not shutting Aziraphale out and going more slowly together.

Aziraphale giving Crowley the holy water in 1967 and talking about how much he, too, would like that more open world that Crowley was trying to make for them, was actually very much what Crowley needed. It showed very good knowledge of Crowley and a lot of skill at taking care of him. Long, long, long before we had words like this to use to describe him, Aziraphale was a very trauma-informed partner, and part of that is just being cognizant of how Crowley is Like This sometimes, which Aziraphale shows in spades.

So, when people say that Aziraphale was too afraid in 1967 or that he rejected Crowley-- he really, really didn't. He ensured that Crowley wouldn't do something really reckless, like the robbery, and gave Crowley the reassurance that he needed to feel like he wasn't failing at being a partner by not being magically ready for this thing that had just become suddenly possible.

Aziraphale acknowledged that neither of them were truly ready but talked about some things he would like when they were ready-- and showed his certainty that they would be one day. He even took the hit for Crowley's ego by putting it all on himself.

In truth, Aziraphale really mostly just needs Crowley to slow down for Crowley's own sake. He works hard to give him the reassurance that he'll still be there and show him that going at their own pace together has always been when they're at their best.

Because, as they both know from experience? Some things are very much worth the wait.

[burekforsatoru]

boyfriend nagi headcanons part 1 | fluff

♡ masterlist | ♡ ao3

boyfriend nagi senses you get up in the middle of the night and asks you to bring him some cheese. you were only going to get some water, but somehow he knew that your destination is the kitchen, and so you pat his chest and pad along to the tiled floor to stand in front of the fridge. one glass full of water already downed, you refill it and bring it back to the bedroom along with a bag of grated cheese. you knew when you stood in front of the cheese section in the store a few days ago it would come to be useful even though you had no real plans for it. there's almost a smirk on your lips, a ghost of a smile too tired to fully manifest as you walk back slowly, careful not to spill or trip. he's sitting up when you reach the bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes when he sees you with the haul. nagi's eyes soften, he didn't know if you'd remember, being almost half asleep when he'd asked, but the smile that flicks over your face is enough to get him melted again. he doesn't reach out for the food, instead lets you settle back into bed and open the seal of the bag yourself. something tells him you won't be in the mood to take it back to the fridge, and neither will he, so it would be best to kill that entire bag between the two of you. he waits until you grab some and put it into your mouth, only then does he reach for some too, the taste made that much better by the company. sitting in silence, in the dead of night, just two cheese goblins sharing gazes, bits of food, and kisses.

boyfriend nagi likes to sit between your legs while he games. as long as you don't move around too much, he likes the gentle reminder that you're there, but also a soft place to lean his head on when he's waiting for the next screen to load. it usually doesn't help in one aspect, and that's the overwhelming need to just close his eyes and savour the softness of your skin, and it's happened before. he would fall asleep in record time, and wake up to the almost mocking game over on the screen. it never matters, though, because he can always redo the level, but the moments spent with you are irreplaceable.

boyfriend nagi puts his entire weight on you when you're lying on the couch miserable and in pain. the first time you asked him that, he thought he was imagining things, but a tug on his hand and a whiny little voice showed him how serious you were. a weighted blanket, that's what you called him that time. he rolled his eyes exactly once before he noticed the slight quirk of your lips upward. it felt good, it was clear from the groan you let out as your body sank deeper into the cushions. pain slowly becoming more manageable as his warmth spread through your limbs, along your torso, into your heart, across your cheeks. he's since learned not to question you when you ask him to lie on you, and instead just lets you have a few moments of comfort under his strong form, the least he could do when you're feeling your insides fall apart, leaving you alone only to go and make you some lemon tea, because if it helps him feel better, surely it will do the same for you.

boyfriend nagi watches you cook often. he doesn't often have the motivation to eat proper food, let alone prepare it himself, but something about the way you move in the kitchen fascinates him. one hand firm on the knife and the once whole pepper turns into thin ribbons. several things going on at the same time, water boiling, pan sizzling, the heap of vegetables getting bigger on the side after a quick treatment with your blade— all that accompanied by your humming along to the song on the radio. nagi leans against the door frame and just… observes. sometimes he wishes he could do it, too. to surprise you with something he's made just for you, but his mind always goes blank when your smile is directed at him, just like when you catch him looking. it's useless fighting it, so he gives in to the urge to push himself off the door frame and wraps his arms around your waist, standing behind you with the best view of the way you clean up the chopping board and toss the vegetables into the pan, mixing them together until they become the dinner he's been sniffing in the air. a tender kiss thank you, a snuggle it's delicious, and the rest of the night spent sprawled out on the couch while playing a cosy game together i love you. that's how nagi thinks he might see the point of cooking.

boyfriend nagi likes poking your cheeks. at first it may have been accidental, or purely an impulsive move on his part, but ever since the first time you looked at him bewildered at his action, he hasn't spent a day with you without doing it at least once. he hasn't thought about it much, really, because it's a simple thing — his girlfriend, your sweet warm cheek, a giggle directed at him. all of the things he likes together. you don't even know why it brings him so much joy and why he tends to sit there fascinated by the bounciness of your cheek once he removes his finger, you're just happy to see him so enthralled. you don't even know it's because you smile every time. and even when he doesn't know what to say or how to act, the easiest way to get you to curl the corners of your lips and smile at him is to poke you. and a lot of the times that's enough for him.

♡ if you enjoyed this, consider leaving a like, reblog, or a comment. interaction helps keep your writers motivated! also if you don't agree with some of these that's okay, this is just my opinion and it's hella self-indulgent!

[sicklysublimeamulet]

The Room Between Us

Renzo always felt like he was just drifting through life—never standing out, never quite fitting in. At twenty, in his second year of college, he kept mostly to himself. He preferred quiet evenings, sketching in his notebook, and rarely made eye contact when passing people in the halls.

He often questioned why someone like his roommate, Howard:

His energetic, confident, and popular. He would even want to share a dorm with him. Howard was taller, more athletic, and had a natural magnetism that made people gravitate to him. But he was also kind and genuine. He never mocked Renzo’s quietness or made him feel less-than. If anything, Howard treated him like an equal… even if Renzo couldn’t understand why. He also have a tattoo in his left arm but he secretly hid it using concealer without noticing it, except Renzo. He knows everything about his roommate's life.

Renzo harbored a quiet admiration for his roommate. Not just because Howard seemed like someone he could never become, but because Howard never made him feel like he had to be someone else. And yet, Renzo couldn’t help but feel invisible sometimes, overshadowed by the world around him.

One afternoon, while helping Howard sort through some boxes after a trip home, Renzo found something strange nestled inside a bundle of old scarves.

It was a necklace.

Silver, with an oddly shaped blue crystal at its center. The gem glowed faintly, like it was breathing.

“Whoa,” Renzo said, picking it up. “What’s this?”

Howard turned, then smiled in recognition. “Oh man, I forgot that was in there. That’s… something my grandfather gave to me. He called it the ‘Anima Cordis.’ Latin for ‘Soul Heart,’ I think.”

Renzo tilted his head. “It looks… magical.”

“Well, that’s the story,” Howard said, sitting on the edge of his bed. “Apparently, it has the power to merge two people into one—only if both people are willing, though. It’s not just physical—it’s emotional, mental. You feel everything the other feels. Not like reading thoughts. More like becoming one being, even if temporarily.”

Renzo laughed nervously, unsure if it was a joke or not. “Sounds like something out of a fantasy novel.”

“Yeah,” Howard shrugged. “But I always thought it was more than a story. My grandfather swore he used it once. Said it changed his life.”

Renzo stared at the necklace, something pulling at his curiosity. For some reason, he couldn’t let the idea go.

Over the next few days, he thought about what it would be like—to know what it felt like to be someone else. To feel confident like Howard. To feel capable. Seen.

Then one evening, after a long walk back to the dorm, Renzo made a decision. He found Howard at his desk reading, the necklace sitting quietly on the nightstand.

“Hey,” Renzo said softly. “Do you… think we could try it?”

Howard looked up. “The necklace?”

Renzo nodded. “Yeah. I want to… understand. What it’s like to be someone like you. I know that sounds weird, but I just… I want to stop feeling like half of a person.”

Howard stood, his expression shifting to something serious but gentle. “It’s not weird. And you’re not half of anything, Renzo. But… if this helps you believe it, then yeah. Let’s try.”

The two of them each held one end of the necklace and brought their hands together around the crystal.

At first, nothing happened.

Then the gem began to glow brighter, pulsing with an otherworldly light. A soft warmth spread through their hands and into their arms. The air shimmered. The walls around them faded into an indistinct blur, like the world was holding its breath.

Their bodies began to shift—not painfully, but smoothly, like clay being molded by invisible hands. Howard’s taller frame wrapped around Renzo’s smaller one, while Renzo’s features filled the spaces between Howard’s. Their skin fused seamlessly, their bones aligning, their heartbeats synchronizing until they were one.

There was no struggle, no fear. Only peace.

When the light faded, only one person stood in the center of the room. Not Howard. Not Renzo. But Rowan.

He stood tall, shoulders square but not tense. His eyes reflected a balance of quiet thoughtfulness and bold clarity. He walked toward the mirror and studied himself—not out of vanity, but curiosity.

He looked… complete.

He ran his hands over his arms, feeling strength—but also calm. He smiled faintly, sensing the harmony of both lives flowing through him. He remembered Renzo’s insecurities and Howard’s encouragement. He remembered moments of quiet sketching, and moments of standing in front of a crowd without fear.

He was not two people trapped in one. He was one person, formed by truth and understanding.

Hours passed, and eventually, the necklace glowed again, signaling the merge could end if they wished.

But Rowan didn’t rush to separate.

He spent the night writing in Renzo’s sketchbook, capturing this new sense of self, reflecting on the pieces of each life that now made up his whole. And when morning came, the merge gently faded. Renzo and Howard stood apart once more.

Renzo stared at the mirror, breathing deeply and he take his phone for a selfie. He looked at Howard to his own mind.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “I… I finally felt what it’s like to be okay with who I am.”

Howard smiled, reaching across the space between them. “You never needed to be me, Renzo. You just needed to believe in the parts of yourself I already see.”

From that day on, Renzo walked with more confidence—not because he became someone else, but because he understood that everything he needed was already inside him.

And the necklace? It stayed in the drawer.

A reminder that sometimes, the greatest magic isn’t in changing who we are—but in finally seeing who we’ve been all along.

It had been weeks since Renzo and Howard merged using the Anima Cordis—the mysterious necklace gifted to Howard by his grandfather. What started as an experiment to help Renzo find confidence and clarity had become something deeper. When they separated that night, both young men felt changed—not in a way that erased who they were, but in how they viewed themselves and each other.

Yet something lingered in both of them after the experience. An echo. A calling.

Renzo, once soft-spoken and unsure, found a steadiness in his voice. He no longer shrank from conversations or hid in shadows. He started sharing his art more openly, joining local exhibitions, even speaking up in class. His old anxiety didn’t disappear completely—but it no longer ruled him.

Howard, meanwhile, found himself slowing down more. Listening deeper. He became more introspective, more thoughtful in how he moved through the world. The experience of feeling Renzo’s quiet sensitivity opened a new depth in him that he hadn’t known was there.

One evening, the two of them sat outside their dorm, the city glowing in amber and blue beneath the dusk sky. The Anima Cordis rested between them on the small table, its crystal faintly pulsing with a familiar light.

“You feel it too, right?” Renzo asked.

Howard nodded. “It’s like... it’s calling us back. Not because we’re incomplete, but because we’ve found something worth holding onto.”

They both fell quiet, listening to the stillness around them. Then Howard smiled, eyes gentle. “Maybe we were never meant to be just individuals. Maybe what we are when we’re together... is the truest version of us.”

Renzo hesitated. “But if we do this again... I don’t think I’d want to undo it this time.”

Howard didn’t blink. “Neither would I.”

They held the necklace together once more. The crystal pulsed, brighter than before. But this time, the magic felt calmer, like the ocean lapping at the shore. No struggle, no overwhelming surge. Just the slow, natural blending of two lives into one.

Their bodies came together, features balancing and harmonizing—not just physically, but spiritually. Their thoughts aligned. Their memories met and braided. There was no longer Renzo and Howard.

There was simply Rowan.

He stood outside under the dawn sky, breathing deeply. He felt taller, stronger, but not just in a physical sense. He felt whole.

He had Renzo’s keen eye for detail, Howard’s sense of presence. Renzo’s quiet grace, Howard’s bold confidence. He could speak to a crowd or sit in complete stillness and feel at peace in both.

Rowen remembered who he had been—but without longing to return. This wasn’t a temporary fix. It was a choice. A new life, forged from trust, admiration, and shared will.

The next day, Rowan officially changed his name with the school records. Professors, classmates, and friends adapted quickly. Most didn’t even question the shift—just as if Rowan had always been there, just waiting to step into the world.

He moved into a small apartment off-campus, decorating it with both Renzo’s art and Howard’s trophies. The walls told stories of both lives, no longer separate. On the shelf sat the Anima Cordis, now dim, its work complete.

People gravitated toward Rowan. He spoke with ease, carried himself with quiet power, and listened like every word someone shared mattered. He became a pillar in his university community—guiding others, uplifting them, seeing what was hidden beneath their surfaces. Because he understood what it meant to be both seen and unseen.

It was no longer about healing a broken sense of self.

Now, it was a legacy.

And as Rowan looked at the world ahead of him—filled with possibility, new friendships, new creations—he smiled.

And he was exactly who he was always meant to be.

[incurablefacetofcondition]

wanted to reply to the actually relevant post, but replies were limited, and then it was deleted. wanted to try sending an ask but asks were off. wanted to try dming but dms are set to people you're following only. so, here i am. i hope you will read this in good faith. these are not trick questions and i am engaging in good faith myself. if you dont want this on your blog but still want to have a conversation, thats fine, you can tag me in the replies if you'd prefer to respond there, or dm me or something

first off i want to discourage you from using the term "truscum" to describe yourself, regardless of your opinions. the term comes from the phrase "true trans scum" and isn't intended to refer to cis people. you will often see people say things like "theres no such thing as a cis truscum- that's just a regular transphobe." some people also feel that transmedicalist only refers to trans people, but that one is more up for debate and generally deemed more acceptable for a cis person to use for themself, should you continue to hold this stance.

next, maybe you addressed this in the now deleted reblogs somewhere, but i didnt see any statements from you regarding what you think about nonbinary people. do you believe that nonbinary people are the genders they say they are? or also only nonbinary people who want to (or already have) take steps to medically transition?

third, i want to talk about your phrasing of "biological women." theres multiple reasons the preferred term is just "cis women." hormones alter biology, for one. yes, maybe not to being completely identical to that of a cis woman in every single way, but all of the changes hormones bring genuinely change your biology. but, more importantly, this ties into my main point- do you view gender as a social construct?

everything i saw you state before the post was taken down implied that you do not view gender as a social construct. if thats the case, id like to understand what you believe instead. i dont want to speak for you without hearing your beliefs, but i know that there are many people- including some trans people- who view gender as something spiritual, or biological in the sense that you have a female or male brain, what have you. a gendered brain, or soul, or heart.

for the gendered brain belief, this is mostly based on old research that was disproven. men and women do not have gendered brains in any provable way. as for the soul... i am not religious or spiritual, so, no comment.

ill tell you right now that i am one of the people that would easily be deemed a "true transsexual" by transmedicalist standards. im on hormones, ive had chest surgery, ive gotten my name and gender marker changed legally. i am currently vying for genital surgery. and still i do not believe that any of these things are what make me a man. i am a man because i feel that i am a man.

when people say "gender is a social construct," it means that none of these things are inherently linked together. a cis man could want a vaginoplasty or hormones or breast implants without being a woman, cause he doesn't feel that he is one, he just would like to have certain particular features. same thing for a cis woman wanting top surgery, or hormones, or phalloplasty, metoidioplasty. if she says "im a woman, and i would like to have a penis," then she's not a trans man, she's a woman who wants to have a penis. and that's fine!

society has built up the concept of gender revolving around certain traits, but that doesn't make it the immutable truth of the world. so much of gender is performance- the clothing, the haircut, the pronouns, the attempts to modify behavior like crossing your legs or manspreading- but identity is ultimately a very personal thing. you can perform every aspect of womanhood and still know you are a man. you know yourself better than any other.

men and women are not opposites. we're all just people. on an individual level, anything that is true of a man could also be true of a woman, and vice versa. the structures of misogyny are based on a foundation of bullshit. any trait you see in a woman could also be found in a man, any trait you see in a man could also be found in a woman. some things may be more or less common in men or women, but not exclusive. if gender was so strictly inherent and separate, then it would not require policing to uphold.

most trans people hate the phrase "biological women" because we do not believe that being a woman has anything to do with biology. it implies that trans women are lesser, other, and secondary, that cis women are the natural state of womanhood being mimicked, and that the closer a trans woman gets to the biological standard of a cis woman, the more of a woman she is. but her womanhood is her internal sense of who she is! as it is for cis women, too. if you think the phrase "im a woman because i have a vagina" is transphobic, then that's the same reason we don't favor the "biological woman" terminology- your biology is not what makes you a woman. biology is not what makes anyone the gender that they are.

gender is a performance, a social construct, and a whole lot of bullshit. everyone should just do what makes them most comfortable. if that's using he/him as a cis woman, then so be it. if that's not medically transitioning as a trans man, then so be it. if that's seeking as ambiguous a medical transition as possible as a nonbinary person, then so be it. gender only has meaning because we, as humans, give it meaning.

it's remarkable how much more free we all are, looking at gender from this angle. that includes cis people! i think cis people should be allowed to do whatever they want in regards to gender affirming care, too, even if it doesn't make sense to other people. this is true bodily autonomy to me. i once saw an article about an older cis gay man who got a vaginoplasty, and he said "ive had a penis for 60-odd years. ive had all the experiences there are to have with it. id love to try something new." and i thought to myself, how wonderful it is that he could do that. this is the kind of freedom that makes life worth living. i hope he enjoys every second of every moment in his body. i hope we all do.

Mom is a trans ally #confirmed

[wolfstarsjegulus]

golden boy pt2 (can be read as a stand alone) - word count: 675

@into-the-jeggyverse

prompt: walk

tw: implied SA (not detailed)

Regulus saw the signs immediately. To everyone else, James Potter is an outgoing ray of sunshine that never tires; everyone wants him. Regulus is the only one who can tell when James’ shoulders start to slack, when the light in his eyes dim, and he begins to get fidgety, meaning that he’s overwhelmed.

James, of course, is too polite to tell people no and just walk away, so often Regulus intervenes. On the outside looking in, he probably looks like a cold, controlling boyfriend, but frankly, Regulus couldn’t care less what people thought of him; he just wanted James to be okay.

Regulus made his way over to James and whispered in his ear, “Why don’t we go for a walk?”

James visibly lit up at this with a nod of his head; Regulus led them out of the portrait hole, and they began to wander out of the castle towards the grounds.

Neither had brought a jumper, but it was only the early days of autumn, so nights weren’t too cold just yet.

“Thank you for that, I mean,” James said as he took hold of Regulus’ hand.

“It’s alright, I prefer spending time like this anyway,” Regulus responded, and they continued their slow walk. “What were they even talking about back there? I noticed you started to get uncomfortable when the conversation shifted.”

“Ah yeah, they were, um- well, they started talking about sex, you know, with their partners,” James stammered. “They were asking me these questions that I didn’t know how to answer. That I couldn’t answer, I guess.”

They slowed to a stop so that Regulus could turn to look at James, who was beginning to get teary-eyed.

“Hey,” Regulus said softly, putting his hand on James’ cheek, a gesture he knows brings him comfort. “It’s none of their business, okay? You don’t owe anyone anything, including me.”

“I just get so worried that I’m- I don’t know,” James struggles, “that I’m robbing you of something or not being able to provide something that you need. I’ve had sex with so many people, except you, the one person I’m actually in love with. I’m your boyfriend, I should be- I don’t know.”

“You shouldn’t be anything but yourself,” Regulus affirms. “Just because we haven’t had sex doesn’t mean you don’t love me. It means that you felt safe enough to choose.

“I love you because you’re the sun in my sometimes very dark world. I love you because you understand me better than anyone and you never judge. I love you for you, not for your body or what you think you should give me, okay? Sex is great, sure, but I don’t need it. I could go the rest of our lives holding your hand, not even kissing, and I’d be the happiest I could ever imagine.”

At this, James pulls Regulus into a tight embrace and burrows his head into Regulus’ shoulder, “Thank you.”

“Could I ask you something?” Regulus says a little bit later as they begin to make their way back to the castle, “How did you figure it out? That you didn’t have those feelings?”

“I’m not sure, I think I always knew something was off,” James explained. “I guess I started to notice in my fourth year when other guys were talking about girls but like, in sexual ways, and I knew I didn’t want that side of it.”

“Like when I met you, I knew I liked you, but all I wanted to do was hold your hand and talk for hours. And then, well, during those hookups, I never exactly enjoyed myself, but I also never wanted to be there in the first place, so.”

“We should talk about that at some point,” Regulus said softly.

“Not yet,” James whispered.

“When you’re ready,” Regulus replied, wrapping his arm around James as they continued to walk, “and for the record, I do enjoy holding your hand and talking for hours.”

They laughed as they made their way to James’ dorm to do just that.

[thatsthatbridepresso]

Guilty As Sin?

Guilty As Sin?

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

Rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. 

Synopsis: You planned to spend the holiday alone. Your parents were going to be gone, leaving you home alone. But what happens when your roommate offers for you to spend the holiday with her and her sexy dad? 

Warnings: No outbreak, age gap (Joel is in his 50s and reader is in college in their 20s), thirsting after your friend’s dad, DILF mentions, daddy kink, Joel takes reader’s virginity, p in v sex, unprotected sex (but reader is on birth control), IF I FORGOT ANYTHING LET ME KNOW.

Your parents had decided to leave for the holiday, something about your grandma. Being in college, you felt out of the loop when it came to family matters, your mom and dad only asking about how you were, how school was going, and how Sarah Miller, your college roommate and best friend, was. On move-in day, you were nervous to find out who your roommate would be. Your mom and dad were helping to bring all your belongings into the dorm. It was hard to feel excited when you were so anxious.

A couple of hours passed, allowing your mom and dad to help you decorate and arrange your half of the room, ending with all three of you sitting on your made-up bed. That’s when Sarah and her dad entered the dorm room. Sarah’s dad (whom you later found out was named Joel) appeared to be gruff, a little ragged, and maybe a little calloused. He didn’t talk much other than a small ‘hello’ to you and your parents. He was carrying her boxes, and he looked like he worked hard for a living. 

His muscles were buff, and you couldn’t help but notice them when he flexed, putting her first box down. His forehead was damp with sweat; it was a hot August day. As he leaned up, his brown eyes met yours, and you immediately looked away, feeling slightly awkward. It had been a long time since you’d felt this way. It had to be because he was someone you weren’t familiar with. 

That was the only time you had met Sarah’s dad in person. She would FaceTime him often, keeping it on speaker. It wasn’t like you were trying to eavesdrop, but that’s the most you’d heard him talk. With Sarah, he was light-hearted. Occasionally, he’d ask how you were and normal questions a parent would ask his daughter. Joel was a single dad, raising Sarah by himself. She was attached to her dad; it was obvious. The semester had gone well, finally reaching Thanksgiving break.

“What are your plans?” Sarah asked, lying back on her bed before turning to face you.

You were sitting at the desk, writing down some notes. Just because it was Thanksgiving break, it didn’t mean you could slack. There were good grades to maintain.

“I don’t know.”, you began. “My mom and dad are flying to Cali to see my grandma. So probably, just hanging out at my house by myself.”

Sarah’s lips curved into a frown. “Doesn’t sound like much fun. Why aren’t you going with them?”

You shrugged your shoulders, barely looking up from your notebook. “I’m not a fan of flying.”

Sarah laughed easily, sitting up on her bed. Your pen scratched against the notebook, keeping your focus. 

“What are your plans?”

“Go home, see my dad and my uncle Tommy. The usual.”, Sarah smiled, acting like it was nothing. 

You nodded, smiling lightly. “Sounds like fun.”

From what Sarah told you, she and her dad were very close. They went hiking together, even if Sarah didn’t like it. He watched movies with her when he got home from work. He took her shopping. You even liked hearing about all their adventures together. It was refreshing. Sure, you were close with your parents, but as they owned and managed their business, time together was few and far between. 

“Why don’t you come home with me and spend the holiday?”

A record skipped. “What?”

“Yeah, come home with me and spend the holiday with me, my dad, and my uncle Tommy.”, she confirmed, smiling brightly. 

“Sarah, you don’t really have to do this.”

“Nonsense. I’m already calling dad.”, she smirked, putting her phone up to her ear. “You can’t spend the holidays alone. Oh hey dad—what’s up?”

Her conversation with Joel was drowned out as you got lost deep in your thoughts. It would be a little awkward being around Joel, considering you all had barely said a couple of sentences to one another. And if you were guessing, he wasn’t going to be too thrilled to learn his daughter’s roommate was imposing on their Thanksgiving holiday. He appeared to always be a little rough around the edges. 

Something else that made it awkward was that her dad was hot. Not just hot—sexy. DILF sexy. But you were trying not to give in to those intrusive thoughts. It sounded stupid even in your head. Not to mention, it was embarrassing. Maybe you should have lied and told her you were going with your parents to California. 

“We head home tomorrow.”, Sarah smiled, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“We?”

“We.”, Sarah repeated. “We should probably get some sleep—long trip tomorrow.” 

“Great.” You swallowed hard, Sarah oblivious to your apprehension. 

Sarah definitely didn’t know how you thought about her father. And you’d never tell her. Those were the things you kept to yourself. Sarah smiled as she lay down in bed, leaning over to turn the lamp off. You both shared your good nights, and you lay there awake. How were you going to handle being in the same house as her sexy dad? Your heart began racing at the thought alone.

_______________________________________________________________________________

After your two-hour trip turned into three and a half after making pit stops, you finally arrived in the quiet neighborhood in Austin, Texas, where Joel and Sarah had lived. A lot of the neighbors had decorated for Christmas already, something you found premature, especially before Thanksgiving. It was easy to find Sarah’s house—there were no lights, no decorations. That had to be it. Her dad didn’t seem like the holiday type. 

Sarah turned into the driveway, parking behind what you assumed was Joe’s pick-up. She shut the car off; the sound had to have alerted Joel. The main door opened, revealing him standing in the storm door. Sarah smiled seeing her dad, a welcome sight after being away from him for so long. Joel opened the door, the screen for squeaking as it closed behind him. He had to have been off today, dressed in a plaid button-up, grey t-shirt beneath, tight-fitting Wrangler jeans, and boots. You swallowed hard, subconsciously biting your lip at the sight of him. 

Get it together, you told yourself. These thoughts couldn’t be entering your mind. Closing your eyes, you tried to banish them. The sound of Joe’s voice greeting Sarah caused your eyes to pop open. Immediately, you saw them share a hug, his arms wrapping around her. His muscular arms flexed as he hugged his daughter, and you were probably standing there like an idiot with your mouth agape. 

“How was the trip?”, Joel asked Sarah.

He hadn’t even acknowledged you yet. Typical Joel Miller. 

“Good.”

“I expected you all an hour ago.”, Joel looked down at his green banded wrist watch. 

“Sorry, Dad. We had to make a couple of stops.”

“You should have called.”, Joel sighed at her before glancing over at you, brown eyes fixed on you as if he was silently blaming you for the delayed trip. His tone made it obvious that he was torn between his frustration and the happiness of seeing his daughter. 

Joel began making his way to the back of Sarah’s car, instructing her to pop open the trunk in order to get the luggage out of the back. Joel rolled up his sleeves, the Texas weather beginning to get to him. Without speaking, he moved past you, grabbing Sarah’s pink suitcase and your purple one. He closed the trunk with a hard thud.

“Come on in.”, he said, eyeing both of you, his tone low. 

This was going to be quite the visit. Following Sarah, you both stepped into the house, which, despite what you imagined, was inviting and cozy. It was obvious Joel was an empty nester, the house having manly touches. Joel ushered you both upstairs, assuming he was going to show you which room would be yours. Even if he hadn’t said a word to you yet. 

“I kept your room the same, baby girl.” Joel smiled at her as you all reached the top of the stairs. 

You felt your stomach twist at the mention of him saying ‘baby girl’. These thoughts really shouldn’t be crossing your mind. There was a word for this, and it was taboo. 

“Dad.” Sarah hissed, clearly embarrassed by her nickname. 

Especially in front of you. 

Joel chuckled. “You’re always going to be my baby girl no matter how old you get.”

There was that feeling again, the knot in your stomach twisting tighter by the second. This wasn’t normal. It couldn’t be. You felt your cheeks heating up by the second. Sarah groaned, taking her suitcase from her dad before entering her room. Joel smirked at his daughter’s reaction before looking back at you. You think that was the first time you’d seen him smile since you had known him. 

His brown eyes were locked on you. “I’ll show you to your room.”

You nodded, no words escaping your lips before he turned and led you down the hallway. It wasn’t far from Sarah’s room, and it was across from the master bedroom, the one you assumed was Joel’s. Great, now he was going to be sleeping just steps away from you. Your brain couldn’t help but imagine him lying there half-naked in the bed, sheets and covers splayed recklessly. 

“Here it is. It’s not much, but it’s a place to lay your head.”, he sighed, setting your suitcase down and bringing you out of your daydream. 

“It’s fine, Mr. Miller. Thank you.”

“Joel.”, he corrected. 

“Joel.”, you repeated, swallowing hard and hoping he didn’t notice how affected you were. 

“I’d figure you’d be with your folks. I was kinda shocked when Sarah asked me if you could join us for Thanksgiving.”, he eyed you, placing his hands on his hips. 

You wanted to know what those hips did, desperately.

“They’re going to see my grandma. I didn’t mind spending it alone.”

Joel nodded, wondering if he came off a little harsh. “Well, you’re here now. Make yourself at home.”

You nodded, quietly thanking him again as he gave you short and sweet instructions on where the bathroom was and where the towels were located. The interaction seemed awkward on both sides, and you didn’t know why. Well, you knew why on your end. He closed the door gently behind him, leaving you alone. Lying your suitcase on the bed, you fell beside it on the bed, letting out a long and drawn-out sigh. This was going to be a long holiday.

______________________________________________________________________________

A few days passed, and Thanksgiving Day finally arrived. The morning had started with Joel making you and Sarah a simple breakfast, burning the toast, and causing Sarah to chastise him playfully about it. Joel had hardly spoken to you, a small conversation taking place with you about what your major in college was and what you planned to do after college. The exchange was still as awkward as ever, and part of you felt like he didn’t even want you here and that you were more of a burden than a guest. 

Sarah turned on the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade, causing Joel to roll his eyes as he joined you both in the living room. You and Sarah were sharing the couch while Joel sat down in the recliner, glasses slid down on his nose, and the newspaper in hand. Typical dad shit but those glasses were doing something to you. 

“I’ve never understood why you like this.” Joel eyed Sarah over his glasses, holding the newspaper out to read.

“Dad.”, she groaned. “It’s part of our tradition.”

Joel nodded, taking a sip of coffee with his free hand. “I know, you and your mom enjoyed watching it.”

Sarah had mentioned her mom briefly, stating her mother had passed away when she was seven from terminal cancer. It was tragic, but they made the best of it.

Sarah and Joel continued to pick at one another, eventually relenting and giving up. Joel wasn’t dating and didn’t want to date anyone, according to Sarah. He was content being alone. And besides, he didn’t want to lose anyone else in his life. The day continued on, Joel prepping the turkey and putting it in the oven while he waited for his brother to arrive. It wasn’t long before there was a ring at the doorbell, and Sarah rushed to answer it. 

She always talked fondly of her uncle Tommy. Tommy entered, making his arrival known.

He greeted Sarah and Joel before coming to you, unsure of exactly whom you were. 

“And this is?”

Your mouth opened to respond, but before you could make a sound, you heard Joel say your name. 

“Y/N, Sarah’s roommate at college.”

Tommy nodded, greeting you and extending his hand for you to shake. It was obvious Joel was the older brother, Tommy’s face holding fewer lines and no beard. He wasn’t as rugged as Joel. He wasn’t as gruff and stubborn as Joel, being more of a jokester. He wasn’t as sexy as Joel, that was clear. All of you sat down at the small dinner table, passing around sides and pouring drinks. 

Joel and Tommy shared stories of Thanksgivings past and their adolescence. Joel and Tommy cracked open the beers, one after another, and that’s when Joel’s lips became loose and his inhibitions lowered. After dinner and dessert, Tommy and Joel retired to the living room to watch some football. You and Sarah decided to play a board game, anything to pass the time. Joel’s laughter could be heard downstairs, mixing with the cheers of he and Tommy when the Dallas Cowboys made a touchdown. 

Tommy had had a few beers too many, and Joel had to drive him home. He couldn’t afford to land himself in jail again. Joel wasn’t going to bail his ass out this time. Joel was a little buzzed but was much more sober than Tommy. He almost had to lift Tommy into his pickup. Joel shook his head disapprovingly before a string of curse words left his mouth.

“Goddammit Tommy,” he groaned, climbing in the truck and starting the truck.

Tommy responded to his older brother, his speech slurred and unintelligible. Both you and Sarah stood at the door, watching the scene. All that was missing was popcorn. Sarah was giggling as the truck left the driveway, telling you this wasn’t so out of the ordinary around here. Sarah closed the door, locking it. She told you it would be a while before her dad got back home and suggested you all watch a movie. 

Watching television, you both lost track of time and passed out. Sarah woke up, seeing that you were sleeping peacefully on the couch, and covered you up with a blanket. She smirked as she dimmed the lights, leaving only a lamp on before heading upstairs to her bedroom. You were so tired you didn’t hear Joel’s truck pull back into the driveway, and the engine shutting off. You also didn’t hear him stick his key in the door, opening it, and entering the house. 

Hanging his keys up, his eyes panned over to the couch to see you sleeping. You were still in your makeup and the outfit you had worn to dinner. He swallowed hard, Adams's apple bobbing. He shouldn’t even be looking at you like that. But fuck, you were so enticing and tempting. Sighing, he closed his eyes and reminded himself that he shouldn’t feel this way about his daughter’s friend and roommate. You were easily thirty years younger than he.

You could have any guy you wanted, so why would you want an old man? He was worn out and had high mileage. The old saying was “rode hard and put up wet”. He wasn’t as agile as he used to be, his body reminding him of that as he ached daily. Joel groaned as he felt himself growing hard watching you squirm on the couch, sliding the blanket, and revealing your tights and black mini skirt. What the fuck was wrong with him? 

That was why he was doing his best to avoid you. He didn’t need to be tempted by you. There was no way he could make a move on his daughter’s friend and roommate. He knew he seemed cold, but he didn’t know what else to do. This was wrong on so many levels, but he couldn’t stop the thoughts and feelings he was having. Man, he was going to have to rub one out in the shower again and think about you. 

Trying to be quiet, he picked up the remote to turn the television off before he headed upstairs. But his fingers cramped up, and he accidentally dropped the remote on the hardwood floor. Damn, fucking old age. 

“Fuck.”, he muttered to himself as he looked at you, watching you stir. 

Please don’t wake up. Please don’t wake up—fuck. 

You took in a deep inhale, beginning to stretch, and your eyes fluttered open. It took you a moment to realize that this wasn’t a dream and you were indeed waking up on the couch, staring at your friend and roommate’s father. You quickly leaned up, sitting upright on the couch. 

“Sorry—I must have fallen asleep watching TV with Sarah.”

You ran a hand through your hair, and Joel silently wished he was the one touching your hair, stroking it softly before jerking it and making you moan as he was deep inside you. 

“It’s fine.”, Joel sighed. “I was trying to be quiet, but it looks like I failed at that.”, he laughed easily. 

“I need to go to bed anyway.”, you sighed, eyeing the clock on the wall. “It’s one in the morning.”

He watched you scoot to the edge of the couch before standing up, your black mini skirt barely hitting your mid-thighs, and you adjusted your low-cut burgundy blouse so it didn’t show so much of your cleavage. It didn’t leave much to the imagination. But Joel needed to know what was underneath them. 

“You don’t have to.”, Joel responded nervously. “You can stay up as long as you want. I was going to watch the re-run of the news.”

This was the most this man had spoken to you since you had been here. He knew you were wondering what the fuck was going on with him. He closed his eyes, silently cursing himself for responding so stupidly. He felt like a complete idiot. 

“I wouldn’t want to bother you.”, you responded, a slight nip in your voice, and he could tell you were upset. 

He had really fucked up. 

“You won’t bother me.”

You looked up at him, crossing your arms. “I’m sorry that I came with Sarah for Thanksgiving. I feel like I’m a burden, and I know you’ll be glad to have me out of your hair and out of your house.”

Joel was speechless. This entire time, you felt like a nuisance to him, like you were bothering him. He had to fix this and fast. 

“No—no, you’re not a burden.”, he responded quickly, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose over his glasses. 

“Well, you have quite the way of showing it, Mr. Miller—I mean Joel.”

His brown eyes shot open, forehead crinkling before his voice deadpanned. “It’s not like that.”

“Sure seems like it.” You narrowed your eyes, tone sharpening. 

You needed to be put in your place. You needed discipline. Who did you think you were speaking to, an adult old enough to be your father like that?

“Goddammit, you don’t fucking stop, do you?”, Joel snipped, keeping his voice low. “I have a fucking reason, you know?”

You were surprised by his response, backing down slightly. “Well, why is it?”

“Because.”, Joe sighed, clearly annoyed and trying to drop the subject. 

He couldn’t tell you the truth, could he?

“Because why?” You inched closer to him, causing him to swallow hard and close his eyes.

He was trying to ignore the problem in his pants, and he was praying you weren’t noticing that he was growing harder by the second. He shouldn’t have worn those fucking Wranglers. 

“Because I have fucking thoughts about you.”, he blurted out, groaning at his own admission. 

He expected you to slap him or at least run for the hills and tell Sarah what a creep she had for a dad. But you didn’t. He watched you edge closer. 

“Like?”

“What do you mean? Isn’t it fucking obvious?”, he groaned, half regretting bringing this up.

“Not really, considering how cold you’ve been and how you’ve ignored me, barely acknowledging me.” You smirked lightly, a small gap between you both that you wanted to close. 

“For starters,” he eyed you. “You’re thirty years younger than me. I’m an old man compared to you. Why would you want to fuck an old man like me? Women as young, beautiful, hot, and sexy as you are wouldn’t look twice at me? Besides, you’re also my daughter’s roommate. This is fucked up on so many levels. You know that?”

You smirked, stomach twisting into a pretzel. 

“I wouldn’t want Sarah to fuck an old man.”

Closing the gap, you touched Joel’s forearm easily and felt his muscles tense under your touch. “What if I felt the same about you? Tell me why an older man would want to fuck a younger woman, a spoiled brat like me?”

He felt himself twitching in his pants, keeping his brown eyes locked on you. “Because I’m dying to stretch out that pussy of yours. It’s me so goddamn horny. It’s all I’ve been thinkin’ about since you got here. Are you a virgin?”

You smirked, leaning closer to him. So close that he could feel your breath on his neck. You wanted to make sure his old ass heard you loud and clear. “Yes.”

He closed his eyes, breathing heavily. “Fuck. You want me to take your virginity?”

“Mhm.” You responded, not thinking about anything else in the moment. 

Joel sighed deeply, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. “How bad?”

“So bad.”, you whispered, placing a gentle kiss on his neck. 

Joel groaned lightly, forgetting what all of this felt like. It had been years since he had been fucked or fucked someone. He needed you, his primal instincts going crazy. 

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes.”

“In the kitchen, now.”, he ordered. “Can’t let Sarah hear us, now, can we?”

You shook your head as you headed into the kitchen, him following right behind you. He closed the door to the kitchen, hoping it would drown out more sound along with the low volume of the tv. You couldn’t believe this was happening, and part of you felt like this was a dream, tempted to pinch yourself. But you were afraid you’d wake up. 

“Hands on the counter now.”, Joel ordered. 

Without any protest, you turned around and placed both hands on the cold granite counter. Staring in front of you, you tried to focus on the canisters sitting on the counter, lined up and labeled with condiments such as sugar and flour. But it was hard to ignore the sound of Joel undoing his belt, hearing it clank together, and knowing he was sliding his jeans down to his ankles. You imagined his underwear was with them, part of you almost turning around to look. 

“Now, slide your tights off and take your shirt off.”

You followed his command, lifting up your skirt and sliding the tights down and off before tossing them to the side. You grabbed the hem of your blouse, lifting it up and over your head. It landed in almost the exact spot of your tights. 

“Slide your panties off.”

This part was going to be slightly embarrassing. As of late, you had been wearing a lot of thongs, and today was no different. He heard you exhale deeply as you pulled your skirt up, revealing your ass and thong in-between the plump of your ass cheeks. 

“Goddamn, a thong.”, he breathed. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

You grabbed the side of your thong, sliding it down your legs slowly, and were almost ready to toss them to the side before Joel interrupted.

“No, I want those baby girl.”

Your stomach twisted, feeling your pussy twitch at the name he had just called you. This was not the one he used when he called his daughter that. This was different—it was sensual. He noticed that this caught you off guard. 

“You want—my panties?”

He chuckled, and the sound alone caused your insides to twist. “I do.”

Confidence oozed from his tone. You bit your lip lightly as you turned around slightly to hand them to him. Without hesitation, he took them from your fingers and instantly brought them up to his face, inhaling the scent of your slick like it was some bouquet of flowers. At the moment, you couldn’t decide if you were turned on or completely mortified. His brown eyes popped open, a smirk crossing his lips. 

“Just as sweet as I imagined it would be.”, he breathed. 

You nodded, words escaping you completely. 

“It’s not a bad thing.”, he continued, reassuring you. “It’s hot as fuck.”

You were trying to take his compliment, but this was uncharted territory. Yeah, you had messed around with boys before, but you’d never had sex with one. Joel would be your first.

“Now, I’m gonna slip these in the pocket of my jeans and save them for when you’re gone. I want you to turn around and put your hands and face down on the counter, understand?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

Your brain was confused. What did he mean by ‘yes what’? Shouldn’t yes have sufficed? Joel could tell by the look in your eyes that you didn’t understand where he was going with this. 

“Yes, daddy.” he fed you the answer. 

These words felt so foreign. The only man you ever called that was your actual dad when you were a child, but you were sure this wasn’t how Joel intended it. He had a daddy kink and maybe you did too.

“Yes…daddy.” You repeated the words, slipping off your tongue more easily than they should have. 

He smirked, desire burning deep in his brown eyes. “Good girl. Anytime I ask you a question, that’s how I expect you to answer me, understand?”

Was this a test? Maybe he was reinforcing the information and making sure you understood. 

“Yes, daddy.”

“Perfect baby girl. Now, you don’t answer me correctly—you’ll get a spanking on that pretty little ass of yours.”, he sighed as his hand rubbed your ass cheek, causing you to bite your lip.

His fingers were broad and his hands were rough and calloused from his job, but they felt fucking amazing just the same. 

You nodded. 

“Alright, now I’m gonna take my dick out and I’m gonna stroke it and get it ready to go inside you, baby girl.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. 

“If at any time you want me to stop, just say the word, okay?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“God, you’re a fucking pro at this.”, he groaned as he took his long, thick cock in his right hand while he kept his left hand on your hip to steady you. 

If this all went well, he would bring you to your knees. They’d feel like jello if he did his job right. Leaning on the counter, you were preparing yourself for him to enter you. Was this how you imagined your first time? No, not in the slightest, but you weren’t upset about it. Matter of fact, you were excited about it—the anticipation beginning to drive you crazy. Joel hadn’t managed to remove his glasses, old fucking age again. 

He needed to see you—he wanted to see you. This wouldn’t be the only time he fucked you tonight. He was going to take you to his bedroom and fuck you in his bed, the one that was not far from his daughter’s room. You’d be quiet, he’d make sure of it. But he wanted to hear your sounds at the same time. He was going to fuck you like you deserved. None of these young little shits could do that for you, he knew it.

It didn’t take much for Joel to get completely erect, pulsing as he held himself in his hand. Even he was fucking anxious about this. It had been a while since he had fucked someone. And his body realized that. The primal desire to fuck you was coursing through his veins, even the need to breed you. But he couldn’t do that. Not with you in college. Besides that, you were his daughter’s age. 

“Ready?” Joel broke the anticipation. 

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, daddy.”

He groaned at the sound of those words escaping your pretty lips. He steadied himself behind you, his cock tracing your entrance as he lined himself up with you. 

“This may hurt.”, Joel warned. “You may even bleed.”

“Don’t—care.”, you responded, fingers tensing on the countertop. 

He was a little surprised by your answer, becoming even more turned on that you wanted this just as much as he did. And he forgot one tiny little thing. 

“Are you on the pill?”

“Yes. To regulate my periods.”

Joel felt a sense of relief wash over him. Not that he wasn’t having thoughts about it, but he knew that was the last thing either of you needed. He was done raising his children, and you had aspirations he couldn’t take away from you. 

“Good.”, he breathed. “I’m getting ready to—”

His sentence turned into a groan, leaving it unfinished as he slipped inside you. You were so so wet for him, and it was already everything he dreamed it would be. He steadied you, hands on your hips as he pushed deeper, the mewling from you growing louder. 

“Easy, baby girl, we don’t want Sarah to hear us.”

You nodded, breathless. “How much more?”

He knew exactly what you meant. Joel could tell that he was all the way in, his body flush with yours. 

He was breathing hard. “I’m all the way in.”

There was something about that sentence that made your insides twist with satisfaction. Even you were surprised that as a virgin, you could fit his entire length because Joel wasn’t small. He was well endowed. Joel kissed your neck, his rough beard coarse against your soft skin. He could be gentle when he wanted to be. 

“I’m gonna start moving, okay?”

“Okay.”

He took in a sharp inhale and began moving inside you. he watched and listened for any sign that this was painful or uncomfortable for you. He knew it would be slightly uncomfortable, but he didn’t want that to last. His hope was that it would slip into pleasure as soon as your body adjusted to him. He could tell you were holding your breath and biting your lip, trying your best to keep quiet. 

It may have been a while since he had fucked anyone, but he hadn’t forgotten how. He just needed to be a little more gentle with you for your first time. Fuck, he couldn’t believe he was the one taking your virginity. It should be some college asshole your age. Not your friend and roommate’s dad. He decided to pick up his speed, causing a slew of small moans to escape your lips. 

“Feeling okay?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”, Joel’s tone was more stern, assertive.

You knew the answer he wanted.

“Yes, daddy.” 

“That’s good baby girl, what a good girl you are taking my dick like this.”

This ignited something within you; it made you feel good. All you could do was moan as he quickened his pace and got a good rhythm going. Your pain had turned to pleasure, and he could tell the way your body relaxed underneath him. If he wasn’t holding on to you, he wasn’t sure you would still be standing. Joel unanimously decided that he was going to pull almost all the way out before shoving himself back inside of you, and that’s just what he did. No warning.

“Fuck Joel.”, you moaned.

He chuckled. “Feels good, huh?”

“Yeah, really good.” You could barely speak above a whisper before a moan cut you off.

He repeated this a few times, a string of moans sounding like music to his ears. But the last time he pulled all the way out before shoving himself back inside you. To your surprise, you mewled loudly. A little too loud, maybe. 

“Baby girl.”, he scolded. 

“Sorry, daddy.”, you breathed. “I just—”

“Wasn’t expecting that, huh?”

You shook your head, brain short-circuiting. “No.”

He chuckled, proud of himself that he had done something to blow your mind. He still had it. The only sound that filled the kitchen was your moans, his grunts, and the sound of his balls smacking your ass. How long would it take for you to cum? 

“I’m gonna cum.”, you were breathless.

Joel perked up, giving it all he had. “Cum for me, baby girl. Cum for daddy.” 

His voice was gruff, stern, and demanding, but that made you want this even more. It was driving you crazy. Joel also knew when you did cum all over his dick, it wouldn’t be long before he followed suit. He felt your body going slack underneath him, wrapping his thick, muscular arm around you. 

“Fuck daddy—I’m cumming.”

“It’s okay, baby girl. Cum all over daddy’s dick.”, he coaxed you through this. 

A loud moan came out of your mouth, one to beat all the others. All of a sudden, he felt you tighten around him and your release coating his dick. That’s all he needed.

“Shit, I’m cumming too.”, he grunted. 

A lazy thrust or two followed before he went stiff, a feral groan releasing as he shot cum inside your cunt. The warm feeling washed over you, leaving you both breathless. If it wasn’t for Joel holding you, you would have fallen on the kitchen floor. The sound of you both trying to catch your breath was the only sound. 

“You okay?” Joel asked, breaking the silence.

“Mhm.” was all you could muster. 

You were clearly cock drunk. And it made him smile. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t pull out.”

“No, it’s fine—it’s what I wanted.” You smiled. 

“Can you stand?”

“Mhm.”

Joel let go of you slowly, making sure you were indeed okay enough to stand. He pulled out of you slowly, causing you to whimper at the loss of contact, but you quickly got yourself together. You fixed your skirt, pulling it back down and you could feel his cum slowly leaking out of you and running down your legs. 

“Are you really gonna keep my panties?”

Joel laughed, slipping on his jeans. “Yes. I wasn’t joking about that.”

“Is that like some trophy?”

Joel looked up at you. “No.”

You nodded, leaning against the counter for balance. Joel noticed. 

“I’m taking you to bed.” he grabbed you easily, picking you up, and causing you to squeal. 

He was so strong, and that was such a turn-on. You squealed lightly. This action was unexpected. Joel took you through the living room, somehow managed to turn off the lights and television, and carried you up the stairs. You weren’t complaining. His bedroom door was open, making it easy for him to lie you down on his bed. He closed the door, stripping himself again. 

You looked up at him, taking in the sight of him naked. He still had his glasses on, hair longer than it usually was but damn was it hot as fuck. He leaned over you, undoing your skirt before taking off your shirt and bra, throwing them both to the floor. He might have been older, but he was so damn good at this. 

“Are we going again?” you smirked up at him. 

“Yeah, you have to give this old man a minute to recuperate.”, he smirked. 

You leaned up, closing the gap between you both with a kiss. Joel wasn’t expecting that as you pulled back to see his surprised reaction. His beard felt good on your face. 

“Was that too much?” you asked.

“No.”, he reassured you. “Not at all.”

You smiled, pulling him down on top of you to kiss him again. The heat between you both fogged up his glasses. 

“Gonna slip inside you again. I want to fuck you missionary so I can see your face while I do it.”, Joel managed to get out between kisses. 

“Okay, daddy.”

He hummed in satisfaction, knowing you remembered his instructions. Joel did just what he promised. He fucked you missionary and even doggy style that night. It was perfect, everything that you could have hoped for. Toe-curling, earth-shattering sex by Joel Miller. It truly was a wonder how you both kept quiet enough not to let Sarah hear you both. She would be mortified if she knew what you all had done. He was exhausted by the end of your sex escapade, lying beside you in bed, and wrapping his arms instinctively around you. 

His chest heaved as he kissed your hair. “That was fucking amazing, baby girl.”

“Even if it was my first time?”

“Mhm,”, Joel began, rubbing your soft skin with his calloused hands. “You were perfect, and I’m honored to be the one to have taken your virginity.”

You both laughed at his statement before sharing a kiss. 

“You and those damn glasses.”, you smirked, caressing his indented cheek. 

“I had to be able to see you, I wanted to see you.”, he smirked. 

You kissed him again, tasting the faint taste of the alcohol he had had earlier there. His statement caused you to giggle.

“You know what they say, real men make your panties wet, not your eyes.”, Joel said in seriousness, looking at you over his glasses. 

“You’re such a fucking dork.”

He laughed too, sharing another kiss with you. This was the first time in a long time you felt safe and comfortable. You didn’t know where this was going, but you both weren’t quite ready for this to end.

[returntodustt]

Bucky Barnes SFW Alphabet

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: brief reference to sexual activity if you squint, mentions of Bucky’s past traumas and how it affects him now, so much fluff it’ll make you sick

Word Count: 3k

Author’s Note: Hey everyone is my first post so I hope y’all enjoy! I really enjoyed writing this so please let me know if you want me to expand on any of the subjects or ideas in this. Also! I am taking requests! Feel free to DM me or drop an ask. Love you all ♡︎

A = Affection (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?)

In the beginning, affection is hard for Bucky, giving and receiving it. He doesn’t want to let you in, afraid of somehow hurting you, and he feels as though he doesn’t deserve to receive your affection. However, as your relationship progresses and he gets more comfortable, he slowly starts to let you in.

It starts small, placing a hand on your thigh when you are sitting next to each other, rubbing small circles on your skin with his thumb. It progresses as he settles into you. When you’re cooking, he will come and hug you from behind. When he walks past you, he leans in for a small kiss. On the days when he really needs you, he cuddles up to you like he never wants to let go. He silently lays with you in bed, his head resting upon your chest as you twirl his hair in your fingers, eventually lulling him to a much needed peaceful sleep in your arms.

B = Best friend (what would they be like as a best friend? how would the friendship start?)

You would most likely meet at one of the restaurants that Bucky frequents after his therapy sessions, always convincing himself a bite to eat is his treat for sitting through those sessions. He usually sits at a booth alone, using the time to truly decompress and repack his mind after his therapist picked it apart.

One day, he is sitting in the booth waiting on his usual order and the restaurant is unnaturally packed. He was looking down at his phone, still trying to figure out how the thing worked, when he is startled by you sliding into the booth across from him, seemingly out of breath. Before he can question what the hell you’re doing, you quickly spit out, “I’m so sorry but the waitlist is literally so long at every single place within two blocks, and I forgot to pack my lunch and I only have 30 minutes for my lunch break please let me stay. I promise I won’t bother you, I will just eat my food and leave.” He was about to tell you to leave, but his therapist has been telling him how he needed to expand his social circle after embarrassingly pointing out his meager 10 contacts on his phone. So he agrees, allowing you to stay and the rest is history!

Now he is very thoughtful, although sometimes distant. He always makes sure to reach out and check on you. Whenever he goes days without texting you, he makes sure to tell you he is just having a hard time but he still cares and wants to make sure you’re doing good.

Whenever you need him, Bucky is always there, offering advice or just a shoulder for you to cry on. He’s not much for hanging out, but when you do, it is always an unforgettable time.

C = Cuddles (do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?)

At first, like stated in the affection section, Bucky isn’t much of a cuddler. It takes a lot of work for him not to flinch whenever you go to reach for him. It’s not your fault, just the trauma that he has been through flashes through his eyes no matter how hard he tries.

But you’re patient, you wait with him and you help him work through it.

When you finally get to the point where he allows you to hold him, he gets addicted to the feeling of being so close to you, being curled up in your arms more often than not. He enjoys being held in any capacity, but his favorite is with his head in your lap, your hand in his hair as you lay on the couch, quietly watching one of your favorite tv shows. It is in those moments that the racing thoughts slow to crawl, and he can truly be free.

D = Domestic (do they want to settle down?)

For the longest time Bucky was against ever getting married. He thought he had too much baggage to bring into a marriage. That all changed when he met you. You made him feel safe to heal and he never doubted how loved he was.

One night, while you were fast asleep with your head resting on his chest, he made up his mind. He knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. Never before did marriage sound appealing, even before his Winter Soldier days. He always thought it was a sham to get the government involved in your relationship. But he’s seen how your eyes linger on the rings and the dresses prominently displayed in the shops you two pass on your day outings. The crazy part is, he feels himself wanting it too.

E = Ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

I am of the firm belief that Bucky wouldn’t break up with a partner, even if the relationship is toxic. He has lost so much in his life, I just have a feeling he would be too attached to let go. I don’t think he could handle the heartbreak.

F = Fiancé (how long do they want to wait before getting married?)

Like I said before, trust issues and attachment issues. So I think Bucky making the decision to get married would take a bit of time. However, after the decision is made, he wants nothing more to whisk you away to the courthouse that night. He waits though, has enough resistance so you two can plan out the wedding of your dreams.

G = Gentle (how gentle are they?)

Okay I’m gonna say it; Bucky is the classic trope of rough exterior to the outside and soft and sweet with you. Okay I SAID IT. It takes you to calm him down and give him the peace he needs to be gentle.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like)

Bucky loves a nice warm embrace after a hard day. There is nothing like being welcomed into your arms, even after you know his past, you still treat him as if he’s soft, as if he has value.

He tries to hug you whenever he can, but he especially always makes sure to give you a hug right before bed, whispering in your ear how much he loves you.

Bucky's hugs are a source of comfort for you, as he wraps you up in his arms like a place of solace. His solid, strong arms wrap around almost the entirety of your torso as your arms rest perfectly around his neck. He leans down enough so you don’t have to be on your tiptoes and he can bury his face in your neck.

I = I love you (How fast do they say it?)

Surprisingly, Bucky was the first to say I love you.

You had taken him out to celebrate his birthday. Of course the night involved getting drinks, which Bucky had had a bit too much of. You ended up carting him home, trying to take care of him the best you could. You drove him home and helped him balance his way into the house and up to the bedroom where you sat him on the bed with the intentions of getting him undressed and ready for sleep, but before you could reach for the buttons on his shirt to undo them, he slings his arms around your hips and buries his face in your chest. He shuts his eyes and exhales so hard it felt like he had been holding his breath for ages.

“I love you,” he murmurs softly into your plush skin, “more than I ever thought I was capable of.”

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Bucky has two very distinct types of kisses; soft and slow, when he just wants to feel connected to you, and the rough needy ones filled with teeth and tongue feeling as though he may swallow you whole.

His favorite place to kiss you, other than your lips of course, is in the plush center of your inner thigh. Bucky knows how sensitive you are in that spot, and can feel the way your legs tremble around his head as soon as his lips grace your skin. He loves the feeling of control he has, bringing your body to shake just at the very notion of him being between your legs.

On the other hand, Bucky's favorite place to be kissed is right across his jugular. You could rip his throat out if you wanted to, but instead you give him the kindness of a kiss.

L = Little ones (How are they around kids?)

Bucky is…hesitant around kids to say the least. He wasn’t really a fan of children before Winter Soldier and now when loud noises have a chance to trigger his fight or flight response, kids are definitely a no for him.

M = Mornings (how are mornings spent with them?)

In the earlier parts of your relationship, Bucky is definitely a morning person. He rises before you even think about waking up to go on a walk before the sun is up. You know he has a lot on his mind at times and figure it helps him clear it.

He starts sleeping in later and later until eventually, you rise together, waking up in a comfortable cuddle, your limbs tangled together. You spend the morning with slow, gentle touches, every second spent with each other.

When you finally make your way out of the sheets, you settle into what has now become your regular routine. You slip away to take a shower while Bucky makes his way to the kitchen to prepare a simple breakfast for the two of you to share before the day inevitably pulls the two of you away.

N = Nights (how are nights spent with them?)

Nights in your household are slow and you both like it that way. You eat dinner while you take turns picking shows, he’s fond of old black and white sitcoms and you enjoy showing him whatever new thing on Netflix you’re enjoying.

After you’ve cleaned up from dinner, Bucky grabs a shower while you do your skin care, a comfortable silence between the two of you.

P = Patience (how easily are they angered?)

Bucky hates to admit, but he does get frustrated very easily. Although he used to be quick to anger out of this frustration, he has done a lot of work to keep himself in check. Whenever he feels himself getting to a place where he knows he needs a break, he lets you know and walks out of the room. It used to hurt your feelings when he would just up and leave, but you’ve come to know and trust that he is doing what is best for the both of you.

Q = Quizzes (how much do they remember about you?)

Bucky is a firm believer that cell phones have ruined relationships on many fronts, one of them being remembering what your partner likes. You just have to stalk and instagram profiles and bam, all of her favorite things. But Bucky grew up in a time when you had to remember what a girl tells you, and he likes to prove it to you.

He always comes home with random little gifts of things you mentioned in passing, or things you may have touched in the store, briefly mentioning that you thought it was cute.

He knows your phone number by heart, allergies, blood type, and the name of your childhood dog. He tells you that you’re the most important thing in his life and that wouldn’t be true if he didn’t know everything about you.

R = Remember (What is their favorite memory in your relationship?)

Hands down, Bucky's favorite memory in your relationship is the day you let him know just how safe he was now that he’s with you.

He came home from therapy, accidentally slamming the door with angry tears in his eyes. You could tell he was on the verge of panicking and you knew if you didn’t intervene he would spiral. It was hard to try to help him sometimes (not that you mind), he just made it impossible to get close to him, especially during these heightened times as that’s when his walls were the strongest.

You quickly go to him, taking his hands in yours and squeezing them gently, trying to get him to look at you. You ask softly what is wrong. And that breaks him. Sobs leave his lips and it’s almost as if his body simply cannot bear the weight of his mind anymore as his legs give out and you both end up kneeling in front of each other on the floor. Bucky's shoulders are trembling as he says with a shaky voice, “Do you know how much I hate that everyone just expects me to bounce back? Just like that? I was pardoned and somehow everything is supposed to be okay and I just-“ a sob claws its way from deep in his chest and he just collapses into you.

You don’t push, you don’t judge, you just meet him where he is at. You let him cry and scream about everything going through his mind and you hold him through it all, gently stroking his hair.

When the sobs have turned into soft sniffles, you move a bit to make him sit up so he can look you in the eyes. You cup Bucky's cheeks, gently rubbing away his tears. “Buck, I want you to know I will never expect you to be okay with what has happened to you. So every day that I see a smile from you, is a day that I recognize how hard you’re fighting just to be here with me. I will never ever take that for granted.”

That night has never left his memory and he knows it never will.

S = Security (How protective are they?)

Bucky is hands down the most protective man that you have ever met. Whenever you two are out, his hands are on you in one way or another, whether that be holding hands, his arm slung around your shoulders or his hand on your thigh when you’re sitting together.

He sends glares towards any man who may look in your direction for too long. He has no issues with showing that you’re his to everyone around.

T = Try (how much effort do they put in?)

Bucky puts more effort into your relationship than you could’ve ever been prepared for. It definitely is partially because of the era he grew up in, but also it is because of the undying love he feels for you.

For every date, every anniversary, he is always going all out. Flowers, a fancy dinner, maybe a night of dancing. And when you arrive home, he carts you up the stairs, helps you undress, pressing a kiss to every inch of skin that is revealed to him.

He gathers you into his arms and carries you into the bathroom, his metal arm making carrying you the same as carrying a feather, and sets you on the counter top. He applies your skincare, knowing exactly how to do it from many times watching meticulously how you move. As his fingers gently rub the various serums into your skin, he is murmuring how much he loves you.

When finished, Bucky whisks you away to lay you into the bed, snuggling up with you, holding you close to his warm chest. He whispers sweet nothings to you while gently rubbing up and down your back.

U = Ugly (what is their bad habit?)

Bucky’s bad habit has got to be skipping his mandatory therapy. He knows he has to go and he knows at the end of the day that it is good for him. But sometimes, especially on days when he’s already annoyed, he just walks around town for an hour or two before returning to the apartment you two share. He always comes clean eventually, and you scold him, but you know he’ll never stop. And if that’s the worst of his vices, then you can handle that.

V = Vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)

Literally couldn't care less. He had a buzz cut. Case closed.

W = Whole (would they feel incomplete without you?)

Not at first no, but the further into your relationship I fear he would take the Wanda path if he had the ability to do so. He is fiercely loyal to a fault and would be so attached, he wouldn’t be able to let you go.

X = Xtra (random headcanon)

Bucky loves to slow dance. He loves to put on an old record with a romance song from the 40s, place his hand in yours and dance the night away. Some nights, he would prefer that over any other activity. It is one of the ways he feels closest to you.

Y = Yuck (something he wouldn’t like in a partner)

Bucky would not tolerate a liar. He has to deal with so much deception in his life that he simply cannot handle it coming from someone he is supposed to hold dear.

Z = Zzz (what are their sleeping habits?)

Bucky’s sleeping habits are well…odd. It took you maybe a month to convince him to join you on the bed for night instead of sleeping on the floor. He also must always wear his dog tags, which sometimes you don’t mind, but on occasion, when he is being the big spoon, the cold metal presses into your back and causes cold shivers to rack up your body.

However, his most notable sleeping habit, one you so badly you wish you could take from him, were the nightmares. Every night without fail, he bolts upright in bed, sweaty and panting from whatever was haunting him behind his eyes. You are a light sleeper so you always immediately wake up with him. You don’t get annoyed or angry. Instead you wrap your arms around him, pulling him to your chest and help lull him back to sleep.

[no-byler-doubt-here]

Hii, what's your favourite byler moment/detail from each season?

hiiii thanks for the ask! this is lowk a tough question but i’ll try answering it 😭

Season 1

Although Mike and Will had minimal scenes where they were actually together, I think my favorite Byler-related scene is probably when Will’s “body” was pulled from the quarry. What I specifically like about this scene/subsequent scenes is how we were only given insight into how Will’s “death” immediately affected Mike independently from everyone else. We saw Mike go home and cry in his mother’s arms, heck, we even got a scene of Mike biking home while crying taken away from us. We didn’t get similar scenes for neither Dustin nor Lucas, displaying the show’s further emphasis on Will’s particular relationship with Mike rather than anyone else.

Season 2

This season is SOOOO hard to choose from because it’s literally a Byler goldmine. If I had to choose one scene, however, I think I’d pick the shed scene when we learn about how Mike and Will became friends. Not only do I love this scene for the way it was blocked, making it seem like Mike and Will were the only ones in a dead silent black void, but I also love it for what it tells us about why they are friends. We are told from Mike’s perspective that not only did he see Will all alone on the playground, but Mike felt alone too. They both started at the same level: feeling out of place, like no one else was there for them.

I find the importance of this detail vital when compared to the origins of Mike and El’s relationship. Mike had his friends — he didn’t feel alone in the same way El did. She was in need of shelter, protection, and someone to show her an ounce of love. Of course, Mike gave her all that, but as the subsequent seasons developed, that base that their relationship started with didn’t sustain anymore as El gradually started to grow into her own person.

Essentially, I find the comparison of Mike meeting Will (a decision Mike actively made) vs. meeting El (a total coincidence) and the circumstances of what each party contributed in each relationship really telling about the substantiality of each. While Mike and Will started from the same place and grew together, Mike was there for El when she simply needed survival. As straight-up survival was becoming less of her main concern and her confusion of her own identity grew, Mileven started deteriorating because she realized she didn’t need a romantic relationship to determine her own being (hence why I believe El will initiate a breakup in ST5).

Season 3

Oh boy. I’m going to be basic here and say the infamous rain fight 😜😜. As an internalized-homophobia-Mike-Wheeler truther, I strongly believe Mike often projects his complicated emotions onto Will through their arguments, the rain fight being the first instance. His aggressive retort to Will’s concern about their party falling apart wrongfully pointed out how Will was the only party member who didn’t have a girlfriend when Will was more concerned about the party’s relationship with one another. Mike’s “it’s not my fault you don’t like girls!” was coupled by a hostile tone and almost disgusted face.

My genuine #1 reason for this being Mike projecting his internalized homophobia onto Will is because HOW ELSE DO YOU DEFEND HIM HERE?? If he isn’t projecting, he’d be spitting straight homophobic words in Will’s face when he knows Will is bullied and was abused for the same reasons. If season 5 comes out and Mike happens to be straight and totally happy with El, I think I’ll genuinely hate his character.

Season 4

This season is oh-so rich in Byler analysis that I feel like I learn something new everyday. I feel like my favorite scene for this season is always changing, so I’d say my favorite one at the moment is probably the second bedroom scene with the infamous, “I didn’t say,” “You didn’t have to.” Besides this obviously being a genuine conversation between the two of them, the first couple times I watched this scene I always felt an extreme amount of second-hand-embarrassment, and I could never pinpoint why. It wasn’t until I read someone directly point out how flirty this scene was that I realized that’s why I always somewhat cringed. Mike and Will, but especially Mike, are genuinely insane for this whole conversation. I think their final exchange, “Cool,” “Cool,” was especially corny 😭😭. Like seriously if Mike feels absolutely NOTHING for Will then WHY ARE THEY FLIRTING SO MUCH IT’S PAINFUL.

[nothorses]

on that terf talking points post, do you regret mentioning you fell into radfeminism for a year? i keep seeing people claim all of the big "transandrobro" blogs are ex-TERFs. when i probe for proof they always mention that post you made as the only example... ive never seen someones words misinterpreted so badly in my life. knowing the long term effects of including your own anecdote as a part of explaining your perspective, regardless of the fact that the rumors come from misinterpretation, would you still have included that bit of information?

I think I would have worded it a little differently, knowing just how wildly misrepresented it would have been; if only for the sake of those who hear that I'm an "ex-TERF" first and come to check the post in good faith. I think It's just as likely that someone with the pre-existing assumption that I'm an "ex-TERF" would read the post and feel affirmed in that assumption, as it is that they would question it.

I was trying to communicate just how common that experience is. I have watched, for years, people who claim to be trans allies fall deeper and deeper into radical feminism, and openly parrot TERF ideology. Ironically, I see it most often with the same folks who now point to the post where I talk about this issue as "proof" that I can't be trusted (I wonder why, lol).

I stand by that choice. You only need to look through the notes for a few minutes to see just how many people have read it and realized that they or their friends have fallen into those traps. The fact that they felt comfortable enough to share their mistakes is proof that being open about these kinds of experiences works. It breaks down shame, it educates, and it helps people get out of these dangerous movements. I wouldn't trade that, even if I thought it would have prevented a misunderstanding from people already determined to misunderstand me.

I also think this is a good time to read the interview I did with an ex-radfem who approached me after I made that post! They have a lot more detailed and valuable insight than I do, as someone who was only ever on the fringes of the fringes. (And if you have no idea what this is about, here's the post anon is referencing).

[plaguecakes]

The Tragedy(and troubling future) of the Rules Card (aka some theorizing and speculation on Rouxls’ backstory, motives, and possible future role)

(some chapter 3+4 spoilers, just in case) Deltarune is full of funny characters, one of the earliest being Rouxls Kaard all the way back in chapter 1. From then on, he’s a recurring character who shows up in new dark worlds looking to become an evil lackey for whoever is in charge. But after the newer chapters, I’ve been wondering more about his motivations and backstory. Why does he keep going to different dark worlds even after knowing about the risks of turning to stone? Why does he so badly want to be an evil lackey again? Darkners are still alive and can form memories even when there’s no dark fountain. It was implied before but Tenna confirms this pretty hard, having memories of Kris and their family long, long before the events of the game. It’s been made clear King missed the days of him and the rest of the card pack being played with, having become bitter towards Lightners for seemingly abandoning him and the others.

But then there’s Rouxls. The rules card is often ignored or set aside, lining up with how he’s ignored or not taken seriously in game. But it could also imply that everyone is played with except for him. So maybe he doesn’t have that connection with Lightners that King or the rest had. He might not even really miss it because there was nothing for him to miss. But Darkners are supposed to live for Lightners, what can Rouxls do if Lightners don’t even care for him in the first place? This leads to him having something of a crisis over what his purpose is supposed to be, or if he even has one at all.

Then the Knight came along, King took over, fired the puzzle makers, and just put Rouxls in charge. And for the first time, he had an actual purpose. He wasn’t good at it obviously, but that part didn’t matter. Now things were expected of him, he was finally a part of the pack. King gets defeated and everyone goes to Castle Town. But Rouxls feels it’s missing “the presence of an evil ruler”. Because an evil ruler gave him purpose before. And if there’s none in Castle Town, he’ll have to go and find one, no matter the risks.

And here’s where my wild guess about the future chapters comes in.

The real danger is the Knight. The Knight didn’t interact directly with King or Queen, but did with Tenna, even giving him instructions. The Knight was able to get Tenna to partake in their plans because he was desperate to not be abandoned. Is it really out there to think they won’t recognize Rouxls’ desperation as something they could take advantage of? After all, Rouxls is always on the winning side… TLDR: Rouxls was not played with back then, leading to him feeling unfulfilled and questioning his purpose. Being made an evil lackey gave him a purpose, and he’s desperate to have that again. But his desperation could attract the attention of the Knight, who could make him into a new pawn for their plans.

Hey if you got all the way here here’s a joke I made in discord