#I kind of want him to import 'my brain's not good~' at some point too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rosedom · 1 month

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AHHHH HELLOOO sorry i usually dont request much, haha this is actually my second request in all of my tumblr story ever but...i saw you decided to write for gaming and i just couldnt resist, i love your writing a lot and i just think its so immaculate hahaa. Could you write an scenario where male reader is stressed from work (imagine he has an important job like a doctor or something whatever you want is fine :)) because he has been working days nonstop, so much that his boyfriend is all worked up and horny for him so when reader comes back he finds himself straddled by him while hes begging for fucking? With cockwarming, breeding kink and cowgirl position. Could that be with Gaming, Lyney and Gorou? SORRY IF IM ASKING MUCH I DONT WANT TO BE A BOTHER😭😭 i just dont know how to request but thanks for reading all of rant. And again, thank you and sorry for bothering😔 have a nice day/afternoon/night!

"an unnamed player has invited GA-MING, LYNEY, and GOROU to play . . . an apple a day

✦ㅤㅤ 【 CW 】 dom!top!male!reader, sub!bottom!ftm!characters, vaginal sex & riding, breeding kink + creampies, creaming (lyney), gratuitous praise + petnames .

A/N : aa u are never a bother !! i am SO SORRY this took so long for me to get to, omg . . . but i had sm fun with this (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

"do you want to watch, [PLAYER]? press KEEP READING to spectate the match."

Patient after patient after patient, each one with a more downright stupid trouble than the last. Your day had started with a young man, clearly fresh out of Millelith training, complaining of a tummy ache, of all things! He had clutched his stomach and moaned and groaned, and all you could prescribe him was bedrest. It’s not like you were going to waste medicine—medicine that some people needed—on someone who ached because he didn't eat fucking breakfast.

The next patient was an older woman, here only for her biannual check up. You'd greeted her, said a sweet, “Good morning, madame,” but all she did was turn her snobby nose up at you and demand you not waste her time.

“Madame, you have a serious—”

“I know, young man.” You had heaved a sigh, letting her boss you around for the length of her appointment before sending her off with the exact same specifications as last time: take vitamins, get ample rest, stop talking back to people just doing their jobs. (Though, that last one there was merely something you wished you had said.

Too bad the customer—in this case, patient—is always right, huh?)

But, by the end of the day, you wish, instead, that you had simply elderly after elderly; their disrespect pales to the absolute headache that the rest of your patients put behind your eyes, pounding at your skull—bam, bam, bam.

Wham bam-thank-you-ma'am, all throbbing incessantly behind your eyes and making you wanna hurl—except, god, you’re the fucking doctor, and who’s there to take care of him when he’s a little under the weather? You’ve got your boyfriend, of course—your perfect boyfriend, light of your life, apple of your eye, yet he’s home, and you’re here, and you’re bloody exhausted.

“I need to go home,” you murmur—quiet, lest your own voice make you lose the last of your thin-threaded sanity—, already stripping yourself of the itchy scrubs you wear during the long days.

“But sir—” the nurse asks, meak, but her voice is still too loud, too shrill for right now.

You huff. “I’ve worked for fourteen hours.” The tired gruff to your own voice makes you cringe. You can feel the way it tumbles from your chest, rattling you, your overly sensitive eyes and brain and head and fuckin’ everything, at this point. “Refer to the doc on duty, now.”

The nurse nods, once. “Have a good night, doctor.”

You bid farewell—a kind apology with a promise to make it up to them, to bring them coffee, maybe, or some cookies—, and you take the slow walk home. The sky is dark and the fireflies are out, the gentle glow illuminating the path. With nothing but your own thoughts and the night to accompany you, you feel your headache gradually ease. It throbs, still; but each bump in your skull is gentler, now: it’s easier to ignore.

Although the porch light is too strong—the lantern bright and attracting the nighttime bugs and moths—, the foyer of your home is dark. Your aching head is grateful for the reprieve—for the silence that envelops you in totality the second the door clicks quietly shut behind you—, but something other than tiredness pulls at your heartstrings: your sweet boyfriend, clad in only a shirt of yours, toeing into the entryway.

“Honey?” He wipes the sleep from his eyes, softly smiling at you. “Hi.”

“Ga-ming, honey—” honey, because Ga-ming unabashedly stole the pet name from you, first, “—you didn’t have to stay up for me.”

As if on cue, his jaw cracks open in a yawn: this, you do not need the lights on to see. Your heart aches with your head, knowing that he had stayed up just for you. “Honey,” you repeat, sliding off your jacket and stepping up to him. You take his waist in your hands, bunching up the shirt he stole from your closet.

“Quit with that,” he murmurs, tilting up his head for a soft kiss. You grant it; but when you go to pull back, to keep the kiss gentle and chaste, Ga-ming presses forward, darting that little tongue out to lick at the seam of your lips; his hips, too, come bumping against yours, pressing into your thigh, pant to skin—

“Ga-ming?” you repeat, breath leaving you in a low huff. “You’re—” bare.

Utterly, wholly bare: an expanse of warm, slick skin against your clothed leg. “‘m ready,” he mumbles while he takes to mouthing at your throat. His lips soothe you, somehow; it’s a reprieve, a stark contrast, to the pounding at your skull.

“Ready?” you whisper, tilting your head back, letting your hands guide the steady roll of his hips onto your lap.

He nods. “Ready for you,” he enunciates as he softly whines.

Ga-ming—your Ga-ming—, your boyfriend, your love and light of your life: right here in front of you, on you, all needy for you, offering himself to you, wholly ready for the taking.

“So please,” he continues, his cock dragging heavy across the seam of your pant; “fuck me.”

“Oh, honey,” you murmur; then again, an “oh, honey,” because you’re still half-dressed up in your clothes—though they’re only soft and bland, made to fit under the rough scrubs you had abandoned at the office—, and Ga-ming is naked save for the shirt draping across him, the low hemline covering the absolutely sinful way he grinds down. It’s a dirty move, a down, down, down that gives his sensitive cock friction against your pelvis.

“Please, please, ‘m ready, I said—” his words abruptly drop off, a high cry in his throat that sends him to hide his overly-warm face in your neck. His skin burns against you, a feverish-hot that makes you chuckle, makes the throb in your head go away, just-so. “I said I-I was ready, so, please!”

You coo, quiet, bumping your hips up once. The jerking motion makes him cry out, but he manages to keep himself upright, right-side up but entirely unmoored on your cock. “Go on then, little lion. Take what you need, yeah?”

Whimpering a quiet, “Y-yeah,” he begins riding you, slow, steady—but slightly off-balanced—rolls of his hips that makes him whine, makes you groan low n’ deep in your chest. You let your hands rest on his hips, the fabric of his shirt falling over your wrists, and gently guide his motions. Once you’ve helped him establish himself, he begins riding you harder, more desperate.

Silent tears—though, are they truly silent, loud as he is moaning out for you?—dribble down his cheeks, falling to his shirt and soaking the collar of it in salty evidence of his abject pleasure. His abdomen is tensing and relaxing and tensing and relaxing again, all in a rapid loop, in and out and in n’ out, and then there’s a fucking bulge right below his navel when he sinks down hard n’ deep on your cock; and you’re sent over the edge at the sight, moaning through your teeth as you fill Ga-ming up with hot, sticky cum.

“Oh, oh—” he cries, grinding down harsh to get all your cum in as deep as possible, deep ‘nuff to breed him— “bred me, bred me so well, oh—” You groan at his desperate babbling as his thighs jerk around your hips, just before they give out on him entirely. He falls bodily into your chest, heaving through his own orgasm as weak mewls tumble from his prettily parted lips. Each sound is smeared into your throat while you laugh, light and breathless, jostling his overly-sensitized body and making him flinch.

“Sorry, honey.” You kiss at his temple, and, the whole while, his small cunt is left to unconsciously milk your cock, left to assure that loud, insecure part of his brain that he’s wanted, that he’s bred all nice n’ full because he is loved. You’re long done, now, but the undulations make your body warm, soft, safe—just like Ga-ming is, comfy in your lap and wholly protected. “Thank you.”

He shakes his head against you, nuzzling into your throat with a heavy sigh. “You don’t have—hafta thank me,” he mumbles, a lick at your Adam’s apple to seal the deal. “I wanted ta.”

Tucking up the blankets around him, you grin. “Then can you warm my cock, lil’ dragon? Just for me?” You run your fingers lightly up his clothed spine, delighting in the shiver you can feel, one that runs the length of your cock as he’s snug on it. “Since earlier was all about you?” You raise the end of your sentence in a lilting tone, meant to tease, and Ga-ming huffs at you.

And, n further retaliation, he clenches around you; the soft squeeze—all wet n’ warm, smearing your own cum across the base of your cock and leaving the mess of both of yours to dribble down the minute space between your bodies—forces you to calm your breathing, to take in the delicate scent of what is undeniably Ga-ming mixed with the smell of your own shirt, your own cologne.

You laugh, then. “‘m sorry,” you say again amidst giggles, ones you’re careful you confine only to your upper chest lest the movement be too uncomfortable on both of your oversensitive groins.

He doesn't reply, snuggled up comfy on your lap and stuffed full of your cock n’ cum both. Instead, he only noses into your neck further before his breathing steadies, lulling you to sleep, too.

It’s in your final moments of consciousness that you realize your head no longer hurts.

(You suppose you now have the evidence that, yes, an orgasm is sufficient enough a cure for headaches.)

Under Lyney’s palm, a small floor lamp clicks silently on. The light is admittedly dim, but, to your sensitive eyes, the bulb is blinding. You cringe and cover your eyes; but it only serves to shield you slightly, because you’re still upright in the foyer, and your body is rather weak. “Lyney,” you tiredly murmur, lifting your palm just enough to see the ground lest you trip.

You bump into him, laughing lightly, but his worried hands jump to your arm. “Hey—”

“I’m okay.” You’re quick to calm him, placing your free hand on his in a tender gesture as you make way to the living room. “Just a headache, ‘s all. Ya shouldn't have stayed up f’r me.” Earlier, it hurt to even think; but here, with him, the pain is easy to ignore, in the face of his own self destruction.

He grumbles at you, though, says something you can’t quite catch and drops his hands, pads over to the lamp to flick it off. The return of darkness is soothing.

He smiles at you, then; or, at least, you think he does. It’s difficult to see in the dark, and you can’t strain your eyes without hurting yourself. “I wanted to!” He takes three long strides before he’s standing in front of you, draping his arms across your shoulders. The position makes his (your) shirt ride up on his belly, and— ”I missed you, y’know,” he murmurs, suddenly all soft n’ deep, looking up at you and bumping his forehead against your chin. “A lot, really.”

“Lyn—”

He quickly silences you with a kiss. Against your lips, he pulls back, murmurs, “I missed your cock, especially.”

Laughing against him, you lean up ‘til he can no longer reach you. He pouts at you when you reply, faux-snark, “only my cock, huh?” Your bottom lip juts out—a mirror of Lyney’s own, a magic trick of his you took for your own; it’s a devilish trick, one you play right alongside puppy-dog eyes you know he’s soft to. “How cruel.”

He huffs at you, pulling you down by the collar of your shirt to kiss the mirth off your lips. “I was tryin’ to be seductive,” he grumbles, knocking against your chin and beginning to push you backwards into the living room. “But nevermind!”

You want to say, “Hey, now:” disagree with him and keep on pouting and go, “hey, hey, hey,” all offended, but the backs of your knees come into contact with the edge of the sofa, and you’re well and sufficiently distracted from that idea.

“Sit,” he gently commands you—merely the illusion of choice—, giving you no choice in the matter with the way he’s pressing you down into the cushions. You go easily; you sigh in relief when the softness begins enveloping you—a pillow’s snug right in the middle of your back, and you briefly wonder if Lyney had planned this. He murmurs, “there you go,” quiet n’ soft, and you’re taken by the way this man gives to you.

He wears his heart on his sleeve, truly; except, right now, the sleeve is yours (just like his heart belongs to you and yours to him in turn), and it's bare, and so is the expanse of his long, pale thighs, the hem of his boxers peeking out beneath the shirt. He stands in front of you, between your legs, makes sure you’re down and that you’re gonna stay down, but your eyes aren’t really tired, not anymore, staring at Luney—your Lyney—before he huffs and sits bodily onto you, straddling your lap with his knees sinking into the cushions on either side of you.

“Lyney,” you murmur, reaching out to take hold of his thighs. The position makes the shirt rise up on his belly, exposing the soft, rippling muscles there; but, in the dark, all you can go by is what you feel against your own stomach, his bare skin pressed to your thin shirt. “I was kiddin’, sweetheart.”

“I know you were,” he snaps at you, mean-like, but he brings his arms around your shoulders all sweetly and nuzzles into the side of your head. “But I wasn’t. I—I really did miss you; and your cock. If you—if you wanna, of course.”

“Of course I want to, Lyn,” you mutter, tilting your head up to kiss beneath his chin. “I’m just a little tired.”

“A little?” He huffs, again, before sighing. “Just—let me do the work, alright? I’m already...” he pauses, tilts his head to the side, breathes in and out sharply.

You hum at him to go on.

“‘m already prepped.” Oh.

“Oh?” You grin, bringing your tired arm up to cup his cheek. He leans into your palm and his eyelashes flutter, brushing against your skin. “Go ahead then, sweet thing.”

And go ahead he does, smiling into you before he abruptly leans back ‘nuff to chuck off the shirt. You whine, say, “hey!” but there isn’t any bite left on your tongue when Lyney starts tugging his boxers down, too. He’s impatient, pulling at the seam and groaning curses at the fabric—as if it’s the damn boxers’ fault that he’s in a position that prevents him from taking them off.

He relents, tilting this way and that and finally—after painstaking minutes later, ones that, under no circumstance, should be arousing, but the anticipation, the wait: it all makes your dick chub up in your own pants—Lyney’s left naked in your lap. The fabric hangs off his foot, and you reach down to tug it the rest of the way off for your sweet boyfriend as he busies himself unbuckling your own belt, loosening the tough leather enough for your pants to droop and enough for him to reach a hot hand into your briefs.

“Eager, huh?” you tease, lifting your hips—and, subsequently, him—to let him get your dick out of your pants. Neither of you bother pulling down your own pants, not after Lyney spent so long on his boxers alone. He doesn’t dally. “My sweet Lyney.”

He sighs, again—he’s rather dramatic tonight; but, then again, when isn’t he? It wouldn’t quite be your Lyney without some theatrics—, spitting into his palm and lathering up your cock with it while he makes to straddle you more fully. “Thought you were tired,” he grumbles, hovering his, indeed, wet n’ slicked up and entirely prepped cunt over your thick cockhead.

“Mhm.” You set your hands on his plush thighs once he hooks the head of you into his loosened hole, groaning low and pleased in your throat while he softly whimpers at the barely-there stretch. He prepared himself well. “But when you’re lookin’ so pretty for me, I can’t help being wide awake. Wouldn’t wanna miss this sight for the world.”

With your eyes now adjusted to the light—and, oh, you consider how the throb of your head is a bygone memory now—, you can see the way his cheeks darken just-so, puffed up in exertion as his groin meets yours. You’ve got your cock stuffed up balls-deep in him, and he leans into you once he’s fully settled.

He moans, less out of outright pleasure and more out of total contentment, comfy and warm on your lap as your arms knead at his thighs. His arms squeeze around your shoulders, and he quietly asks, “Gimme a minute.”

Nodding, you simply bask in the steady heat of him, letting him adjust and recognize that, yes, you’re home, now, and you hadn’t really left him at all. “I missed you,” you murmur rather suddenly, your voice quiet but still stark in the silence of the night. “Thought about you durin’ my shift.”

“You did?” His voice is rough but wispy, a little out-there and entirely gone. He’s slipping into that mindset he always does when he’s left to warm your cock—regardless of if it were by his volition or your own—, but he begins to subtly grind his hips against you, mewling at the hot sparks of rapture from his cock rubbing just right against you.

“‘Course I did,” you continue, moving your hands to his hips instead to help move him along. His arms tighten around you and he moans directly into your ear.

From then on, it’s quiet: quiet, that is, save from the obscene slick noises of the lube Lyney used to prep himself earlier with his own slick, your pre-cum mixing up and making a mess of thick liquid between both of your thighs. His moans are barely audible, these soft, gentle lil’ uh, uh, uh’s punched out of him with each tender grind down.

You think, even, that you’ll both cum like this: quiet, nothing but the sounds of your connection and heavy breaths, moans, groans as you fall over the edge. But then Lyney starts bumping his groin against yours even harder, grinding down deep on your cock and rubbing against your full balls, and he starts babbling for you to “breed me! Please—”

“I-I’ll breed you,” you groan, leaning your head back into the sofa cushions and chasing your release, chasing the release you both want, the one he wants so desperately stuffed up deep inside him. “Gonna fill you right up, just like you want, sweetheart.”

He babbles more—a mix of syllables and words, more pleas for you to breed him—until he’s silenced by his own high-pitched whine, cumming around you and slathering you in creamy-white. The steady clench and release of his cunt forces you to your own end, thick cum slowly leaking out from the edges of his cunt and your cock. (You can hardly tell what’s your leaking cum and what is his own.)

“Thank you,” he mumbles, already beginning to doze. “Th’nk you:” quieter, more muddled against your ear.

You grab the throw you have across the sofa’s armrest, rucking it up around the two of you; you cocoon Lyney safe in your arms and on your softened cock. He’s nodded off, now, and he misses your words: “You don’t have to thank me,” you say anyway, even if he doesn’t hear you, “I love you.”

The cum’ll be sticky, later, when you wake up; but for now, it’s perfect. It’s perfectly warm and entirely cozy, wholly snuggled up with the love of your life. Your headache, the stressors of the day—they’re all forgotten in his presence.

You’re so, so glad to love him.

“Hi, puppy,” you coo. The sound of your own voice grates you, but you ignore it to sweetly smile at your beloved. He stands there, motionless for a moment right there at the threshold before the foyer, until he shakes his head with a barely-there laugh. “Gorou?”

He tilts his head to the side—this you can see, the silhouette of him in the moonlight—before he takes a tentative step forward.

Then another. And another. Another, another, another, ‘till he’s standing in front of you and leans up to kiss your jaw. “Hi,” he repeats, voice ruff (hah!) and hoarse, a little too much so. “Missed ya.”

You tilt your head back to let him mouth at you, and your hands subconsciously come to clutch at his hips, and— “Oh, Gorou,” you mumble, pleasantly aghast, because your hands come into contact with bare, slick skin. “Pent up?”

With a quiet whimper, he tilts his hips forward, into you, pressing against the contact of your fingers on him. You slowly slide your one hand around, sneaking a large handful of his ass before you dip into his cleft, shuddering when your fingertip easily glides across his slicked, open cunt.

“I-I wanted you, so bad,” he starts to mumble, shy, tucking his head into the meat where your shoulder meets your neck. Without any prompting, you adjust your stance, pressing your knee into his cock and making him jerk forward with another whimper high in his throat. “Oh!”

Slowly, his hips begin grinding—it’s a weak movement, testing, making sure you're really okay with this, right now. He moves unsure against you until you begin bumping your knee, letting his slick make a mess of your pant leg. “Go on,” you goad him on, soft, holding him snug against you. You can feel his cunt clench even through the fabric of your pants, a rapid rat-a-tat-tat against you that is oddly reminiscent of the headache you can feel begin to dissipate. “Take your pleasure, pup.”

He nods vehemently against you, beginning to hump as his tail swishes side to side, side to side, hypnotizing you just slightly. It’s hard to parse it out in the dark, but the shadow of it is undeniable behind him. Each bounce of your leg makes Gorou whimper, and he’s quick to crane his neck up for a kiss to muffle himself. You grant his request easily, but only for a minute; after, you gently part from him to murmur, so quiet that only he could possibly hear, those big, soft ears of his twitching as he strains, “What else do you want, honey?”

“Want you,” he whines, grinding harshly once, twice. “Want you inside me, want you to breed me.”

You didn’t expect that, but you’re a doctor, after all; it’s kinda in the job description to roll with the punches, so you do. “You wanna get fucked full of pups?” you ask, teasing and light, but Gorou’s mouth parts as a loud whine crawls out of his chest.

“Yes! Please.” Thick tears begin to drop from his eyes, saltwater dribbling onto the bare skin of your throat. “Now, now—breed me now,” he begs, and you coo at him, bringing your hands to curl into his hair, rubbing soothing circles into the base of one puppydog ear.

“Patience, pup.”

And, because he’s Gorou, and Gorou is nothing but a good boy, he nods, rapid-quick movements of his head, and begins to slow on your thigh. Heat shimmers low in your belly as he steps back from you on shaky legs, a wet splotch across your leg from his cunt. You bring a hand down, meaning to scoop it up off your pant, but your finger brushes two distinctly different textures: his natural slick, and fuckin’ lube. “Did you prepare yourself for me?”

“Y-yeah,” he mutters, tail tucking itself between his legs. You almost cringe at that, knowing he’s smearing himself into his own fur, but if he doesn’t mind, then you won’t either; besides, it’s hard to truly care when your boyfriend is so bashful in front of you. “I—I missed you, ‘nd wanted to be ready for you.”

The image of Gorou, ass up on the bed with four of his fingers stuffed up inside of himself flitters across your mind, makes your cock throb in your britches. Your erection was easy to ignore, earlier; but now it’s abject torture.

However, it’s not nearly as torturous as it was for your boyfriend, and you know this. You know he didn’t cum, know his fingers are far too short to truly reach in deep and press against his g-spot, know his wrist can’t comfortably bend to jerk himself off and finger himself at the same time. So you coo, soft, “Sweet boy. Where’s your toy?”

“Charging,” he mutters.

You grin at that: it’s perfect. “Can you go get it then, puppy?”

With an audible swallow, he nods, rushing for your bedroom. You follow behind him, lethargic but so, so turned on; and while he’s grabbing the vibrator from the corner, you shuck off the rest of your clothes and plop yourself down on the edge of your bed.

He must not expect you to have followed him, however, because once he turns around, he jumps, ears flattening to his head in embarrassment. You only laugh and pat your lap. “C’mere.”

Quickly—and toy in tow—, he shuffles over to you. He stands awkwardly in front of you for a moment before you murmur, “I said c’mere,” and tug him to straddle your lap. The position immediately forces his cock—slick n’ thick, out of its hood and throbbing incessantly—against yours, and he mewls helplessly for a moment, grinds once, twice again, before he grabs the lube to the side of you.

You hadn’t even noticed it there, but now that he’s grabbed it, pointed it out, you feel other wet spots beneath you. He fuckin’ masturbated here, right on the duvet you both sleep under, thinkin’ about you and only you. You’re taking out of your musings when he slathers up your cock in lube, messy and sloppy, and then he’s rising, positioning you, and sinking right on down.

“Mm!” he cries out, swiveling his hips to take you in deeper, deeper, deeper. You groan at the lube-slick combination that smothers your cock in Gorou, Gorou, Gorou. “Breed me, breed me!” Each meak plea makes your cock pulse inside him, and he mewls at each throb inside him. “Please!”

“I got you, pup,” you murmur, your edge so close you can taste it on the tip of your tongue. “Just make yourself feel good, and I’ll breed you, okay? Okay, puppy?”

“Okay, okay—”

You grin. “Good boy,” you say, and then he’s tumbling over the edge and bringing you right down with him. You groan into his throat, feeling the vibrations of his whimpers n’ whining moans as he’s getting thoroughly bred. Your hands ruck up his shirt to hold his sides and soothe him down from his high. “You did so good for me, sweetheart. Bred you just like I promised I would, hm?”

He weakly nods. “Thank you,” he mumbles, nosing at your throat.

And, well. You’re bloody exhausted, and you promised to breed him, and he can’t keep on being bred if you pull out. You tell yourself you’re only upholding your promise as Gorou falls asleep on your cock, breathing deep on your lap: tell yourself that it’s the lingering tiredness that suddenly seems to hit you in full-force that keeps him warm and snug on you.

Really, clean-up can wait.

i got a lil' carried away on lyney's part ,, o(*^＠^*)o also, none of these were really cowgirl 'cos reader was sitting up for it . . . i couldn't think of how to have him lay flat in these scenarios LOLL

13 MAR. 2024, @rosedom, rosey .

#ㅤ✦【 ASKS 】#i used to have very frequent headaches and the only way i could abate them was:#1) midol (god's gift to earth i stg)#and 2) jrking off.#so !!#sub genshin #genshin smut #genshin x reader #sub gaming #gaming x reader #sub lyney #lyney x reader #sub gorou #gorou x reader #lord .#top reader #dom reader #amab reader #male reader

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actual-changeling · 5 months

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i feel like all my meta posts just clicked and solved a puzzle in my brain. however i am also currently upping my sleep med dosage so if any of this sounds like the incoherent rambles of a mad man it's cause i am. incoherent and insane and rambling that is. (not a man)

but i have to write this post since i had a lightbulb realization moment.

because the thing is, besties, that aziraphale is a fucking horrible liar. he gets nervous and fidgety, he stutters, you can SEE him sweating anxiety. just look at him in the bookshop when the archangels inquire about their not-so-little 25 lazarii miracle.

his best "lies" are when he is actually telling the truth but twisted. he has never been a good liar (see job) and that has not changed in six thousand years. all smiles directed at archangels are visibly wrong, his discomfort is tangible.

whenever he panics it is written across his face clear as day, including, and this is the important bit, when he is talking to the metatron.

now, you are wondering why exactly that matters, and the point is something we have all talked and thought about for ages but my brain just. formed some new neural pathways.

because he is a terrible liar, he is horrible at hiding his emotions.

but you know who isn't?

crowley.

unless you know him, it is very hard to read his facial expressions with his glasses on. he can turn his emotions "off", he can put a wall in front of them and by extension around himself.

i talked about it more in this post, so for background info have a look at it (if you want to)

it's crowley's thing yet there is one moment, one, glorious moment in which aziraphale executes it perfectly. and that moment mirrors crowley putting on his glasses, it is aziraphale attempting to hide away all of his feelings and thoughts so no one can tell what he is really thinking.

the parallels besties. the fucking parallels.

what really sells it to me is that last comparison because it matches too well to not be intentional. honestly, after the sink story i think every little thing in this show is done on purpose and with attention to detail, so.

the empty look, the heartbreak, the pain - the realization. this is it. i am not walking away from this unharmed but i am walking away. or rather into the loneliness, the absence of the person i love.

for aziraphale also the realization that the world is about the get fucked and he is not.

after that we have the inhale of courage. taking a deep breath to calm yourself, to find your way back to your body. a kind of preparation we have all done at one point or another.

the mask slides into place. or at least you want it to slide into place, you are trying to fucking jam it into the spot you need it to be but sometimes it's like trying to push the square peg through the round hole.

it's a disconnect, it's putting up a physical and emotional wall. crowley does it to hide away from aziraphale.

aziraphale does it hide from heaven and the metatron, yes, but he does it to hide from himself. at his core, aziraphale compartmentalizes. he is so fucking good at cognitive dissonance it's scary, and that's what happens here.

he knows, he KNOWS, that he needs to lock up his feelings or he won't be able to get into that fucking lift and do what he thinks he needs to do.

and so he walks away from crowley just like crowley walked away from him, copying him and doing exactly what he has seen him do a thousand times: putting up wall after wall after wall. ripping out every sprout of vulnerability before it can bloom.

except that he stopped doing it after the no-pocalypse, and that is why it hurts so fucking badly when he puts his glasses back on.

he is not ripping out a sprout, he is uprooting an entire fucking tree

aziraphale cannot hide behind sunglasses by crowley so he hides underneath an angelic persona, the person he thinks he should be, needs to be, and the problem is that whenever he slips into that role, it becomes him.

getting crowley to take off his glasses again is going to be a herculean task and the same goes for getting aziraphale to drop his act. they're one and the same in shape and origin and purpose but they are not indestructible.

because listen. all of this is painful and it hurts. it really is.

the fun part, however, is the fact that we know exactly what it takes to destroy that barrier, we have seen it happen to crowley before.

my point is that we are missing the parallel for said destruction.

#alex talks good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen #good omens meta #if there's any spelling or grammar errors pls know i typed half of this with my eyes closed bc my meds are kicking in

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thevirgincherry · 2 months

Text

BEEP !

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. ddlg, pacifier, cockwarming, p in v, fluffy smut, implied age gap, icky ddlg stuff .. like yk

note. we r trying this again.. tags didn’t work last time bc tumblr hates me :( commission 4 the loveliest sweetest ever @miss-oranje-disco-dancer :3 !!! THANK U SM FOR THE COMM love u with all my heart hope u enjoy this and that there are no mistakes… if u would like to commission or tip me the info is in my pinned :3

Leon hears you before he sees you. There is one sound that grates on him and another that makes his dick as hard as it can get. At least, his brain is telling him he should be hard, and he knows he should be, but his dick is crazy stubborn. Stubborn is his way of describing it, his doctor calls it an erectile dysfunction. Not true. His dick functions when it wants to function, okay?

Taking Viagra is optional these days, shit don’t work for him no more. He takes it for fun, reminiscing on the good ol’ days when his dick got hard from the way the wind blew. It doesn’t work so it’s redundant and Leon has started to think he just likes popping pills. Makes him feel twenty-seven and hot. He’s Viagra-resistant. Like Super Gonorrhoea is to antibiotics.

The squeak of your teeth against the rubbery nub of your pacifier is a delight. All the blood in his brain rushes south like a crew scrambling to raise the masts on a ship, it has nowhere to go though, no dick to raise. You've unlocked a new level of excitement within Leon, instead of boners he gets blood clots. How cute. Really, that’s so fun, ain’t it?

The beep! of that goddamn plastic scanner, however, is not welcome in this house. Especially not in his home office turned place of refuge. Leon swears to God he’s developed misophonia. As your daddy, that kind of behaviour is unacceptable, he shouldn't be swearing at all, but this is Leon speaking, not daddy. Daddy is a saint, Leon is pissed off. He only wanted to do something nice for his baby. Nothing ever works out in his favour, he must’ve been born under an unlucky star, or walked under a lot of ladders, crossed one too many black cats.

That one good deed backfired, and now he would rather— Oh, shit.

“Uh-oh,” you mumble, the start of a cheeky grin lining your face. The pacifier muffles your words, it’s plain pink and heart-shaped like your ass. ‘Cause you’re a tasteful little thing. No excessive prints, no lettering that reads Daddy's Girl ♥︎ which Leon had perversely hoped for you to choose.

Uh-oh indeed. He has filled out an entire (probably) super important form in a pink gel pen. Not just any pink gel pen, a strawberry-scented, glittery pink gel pen.

“What did daddy say about this, baby?” Leon asks, and he’s trying to be serious, but god are you cute, and since when has he cared about work? Hunnigan will give him an earful, he wishes for a mouthful, that he’ll ignore because Leon is so kind. He cares so much about saving the world and whatnot.

(Paperwork doesn’t save the world anyway, he saves it periodically, she should cut him some slack.)

“You can’t come into daddy’s office when he’s not home.” That’s a rule. Written on a Miffy notepad in, you guessed it, pink glitter gel pen. A combined effort to revamp the Ten Commandments. Rule number five - Thou shalt not enter Daddy’s place of labour. God, he should do stand-up.

You shrug, pointing at your pacifier in an act of defiance. The scanner remains gripped tightly in your hand, and he can tell you’re itching to make it beep! once more.

Leon hooks his finger in the curved handle of your pacifier, there’s resistance, you hold onto it, clamped down on the nub— He tickles your tummy and out it pops.

“Not fair!” You wipe the spit from your chin on your sleeve. A pout forming at the injustice of it all.

“You can’t come into daddy’s office when he’s not home,” he repeats, “I think you should apologise to Daddy.”

Slowly, you turn around to bare your ass to him, the panties you’re wearing have an oversized bow sewn to the back of them. The fabric is slightly wrinkled from where you’ve been sitting and playing, he smooths it out.

Leon’s never seen these before, they look expensive, silk not cotton. He reminds himself to check his bank account when you leave. He’ll forget until he sees you wearing an even nicer pair later on in the week. The cycle repeats. You are living one lavish life off a civil servant’s salary.

“You’re too big for spankings, aren’t you, big girl?” Leon’s hands are gentle on your hips, he turns you back around. “Big girls say sorry.”

Petulance comes and goes. You’re a good girl at heart, bottom lip quivering when you lurch forward to sit in his lap. “Sorry, Daddy,” you sniffle.

“Aw, baby,” he coos. “It’s okay, daddy isn’t—“

Beep!

You scanned his dick. Good one. Sneaky little thing. He oughta go back on his words and spank you raw.

“You think you’re funny, huh, little lady?” Leon huffs out a laugh, and you nod while giggling. So proud of yourself. “Alright, get outta here.” He stands you up, but you crawl under his desk like a pet. The cutest little bedbug in all of history. Leon would never call pest control on you. Pinky swear.

The scanner sits by his feet, and you rest your head on his thigh, watching him work idly. Then you grow bored, naughty hands making their way up his legs. In one swift motion, you tug the front of his sweats down, his flaccid cock drops onto his thigh. Limp and sad. It’s ugly like this, Leon is more than a little ashamed. So… So not dick-like. Innocuous. Harmless.

(Not that his dick was causing any harm before, maybe to your cervix, but never on purpose. Only ‘cause you asked him to fuck you like that. His little lady wants it rough.)

To put it simply, shit looks like a fucking worm. You bat at his cock like a kitten, tongue sticking out to lick over the half-hidden tip.

“Okay,” Leon says. This is happening.

“Mmph…” You engulf the tip in your warm mouth, suckling like you do your pacifier, there’s the slightest scrape of teeth, Leon doesn’t mind.

“That sending you to sleep, cutie?” Leon pats your head as you blink up at him sleepily. He wants to take you to work with him. Let you set up your toys beneath his desk, hand you a juice box, a fruit snack, his cock at your will. Put it in your mouth, jerk him off, sit on it. Yeah. Sounds like a dream. That should be his treat for all the world-saving he does. No bonus, just a Bring Your Girlfriend to Work Day. Bring Your Girlfriend to Work and Engage in Public Sex With Her Everyday. That’s more like it.

Who else is going to warm his cock when it’s feeling all alone? Hunnigan most certainly won’t. And he might’ve wanted that before, but Leon S. Kennedy has been domesticated, and the only mouth he wants on his dick is yours. You do a damn good job at it. Treat his dick so well, that soft fuck don’t deserve it.

You pull off of his cock with a slurp. The drool pooling in your mouth dribbles down your chin, you use his sweats as a napkin, rubbing your face into the fabric to clean yourself up. Your mess is his mess. He finds it cute.

“Baby’s all done?” Leon’s thumb traces the shape of your lip, your Cupid’s bow, your puffy bottom lip. Always juts out ‘cause you’re always pouting about one thing or the other. Leaning into his palm, you shake your head, shifting from your knees to your butt. Cross-legged on the ground you push the gas cylinder on his spinny chair. There is the deflated sound of his chair sinking and you hum in satisfaction, level with his cock.

“Careful, lift your little fingers,” he warns when you grab the underside of his seat to try and wheel him closer. You do as he says, anything to get his cock in your mouth. Leon wheels forward, and you situate yourself between his thighs once more, lips wrapping around his dick. You take inch by inch, closing your eyes once you get to the midway point, then you swallow around his cock— Fuck, that got him twitching. Your eyes open, and you giggle, the vibration goes straight to his core. His cock grows thicker and heavier by the second, tip fat and leaky as it drip-drops directly down your throat.

“Look at you go,” Leon chuckles. “You did that all on your own, baby.” No Viagra needed when he has you.

You smooch the head, smearing his pre over your lips like a coat of gloss, then you trail kisses along the shaft as you do down his midriff.

“Always tryin’ that, it’s not gonna work.” He clicks his tongue, the sound of your struggle is cute, you choke on spit while trying to fit Leon’s balls in your mouth. It’s real fucking cute. No other girl has ever loved on his balls like you do. He appreciates it. You’re a proper whore, Leon says that with love.

“‘S gonna, Daddy,” you insist in your whiniest voice.

“Alright, alright, it’s gonna work.”

It does not work. Daddy’s always right, you should know that, sweetheart.

You gaze up at him, a string of spit connecting your lips to his spit-coated balls. Whole lotta spit. You’re lucky he likes it messy. You settle for sucking on the rounded bottom of them, tongue following the seam that runs up the middle.

“You like it down there so much, cutie,” he says, fondness manifesting in his dick finally managing to stand tall and proud like an American.

“Mwah.” You place one more sloppy kiss on the underside of his cock, right on a vein that comes to the surface. His dick casts a shadow on your face. Real good view from up here. Makes his shit look huge.

Leon gets stupid when he’s horny. His brain activity is low already, when he’s turned on his brain activity is nonexistent. When he sits you on his desk, there is no concern for the paperwork that gets crumpled under your butt. Paperwork that’s been passed on to him by the US government, by the damn President. Paperwork that has been subjected to abuse by not only a gel pen, but now by your cute ass, and your drippy cunt. Not his girl’s fault she has such a sloppy pussy. Forgive her, Mr. President. Not Leon’s fault he gets her so wet. Cut down my workload, Mr. President.

“Oh no, my baby.” Leon stands between your spread thighs, frowning as he thumbs the wet patch staining the crotch of your panties. “Got ‘em all messy, sweetheart, what're we gonna do with you?”

“Oh no, daddy,” you coo at him, a dopey smile on your face.

“Cheeky.” Leon kisses your forehead, presses his thumb into the centre of the wet patch, the fabric dips and sinks into your spongy hole. “She’s so greedy.” He takes your panties off, not without turning them inside out to suck on the wet patch. If you’re embarrassed about it, you don’t complain. “I think daddy needs to give you a kiss down here, baby.”

“Lotsa kisses.” You nod in agreement.

“Yeah? Want daddy to kiss your princess parts?” Shit, that is one fucked up phrase. Always messes him up. Knocks the air out of his lungs. It’s just true though. A hard fact. You do have the prettiest princess cunt Leon has ever seen. It just sounds so dirty. But you preen when he says it, and your clit twitches, and your pussy drools. On that very important paperwork. “That’s what you need, isn’t it? Need your daddy to kiss these sweet princess parts.”

Leon’s first priority is your clit. Poor thing is all swollen. His pointer finger drags through the middle of your cunt, parts your folds and circles your bud. You’re trembling in anticipation, and that single finger is almost too much.

“‘S not a kiss, daddy,” you tell him, brows knit together.

He flicks your clit and your hips jolt. The IKEA desk holds up well. Leon deserves to be a little mean, you’ve put him through so much. That stupid scanner makes him trigger-happy. “Okay, my bad, Miss Know-it-all.”

When he gets down to business, you pet his head as a reward, and Leon takes it. He latches onto your clit, lips smacking noisily. Your pussy wets his scruffy face, Leon would like to wear your scent to work in the morning. With each broad lick to your cunt, there’s another gush of slick. And he groans into your pussy ‘cause fuck he could live between your thighs— God, he wonders if this is a fix for barely functioning alcoholics. Pussy. If he eats enough - which Leon does, he’s generous when it comes to head - he might sober up.

His tongue fucks into your hole, his nose bumping your clit as he moves his head from side to side. Must look like he’s motorboating your pussy. Not far off from that. “Oh, that’s right.” You grind your hips into him. “Mmm-Mmm-Mmm-“ Leon moans with each push of his tongue, sounds kinda ridiculous. “That’s good, fuck daddy’s mouth, sweetheart—“

“Stop…” Your breath is caught in your throat. “Stop talkin’ daddy!” You sob, fingers tangled in his hair, using it to force him deeper and deeper, hips moving in tandem.

Leon smiles into you, and you don’t let go of his hair until you’re reduced to tears, making an even bigger mess on his desk as your body shakes. It hit you hard. Poor baby. Blubbering and all sorts. When you free him, Leon moves to kiss you, rubs his pussy-wet stubble all over your face, swallows your complaints.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Leon leaves wet kisses on your neck. “Daddy’s got you, hm? Daddy’s right here.” You’re still trembling, grabbing at his shoulders when he rolls his hips forward, the leaky head of his cock meeting your clit in a disgusting wet kiss.

You shudder, toes curling in your pink socks. Leon soothes you, stroking your back as he eases into your princess cunt. “Easy, baby, be a good girl for me.”

Your cunt sucks him in, doesn’t take long for him to be buried inside of you. He rolls his hips forward, slow and steady. You gasp, throwing your head back and knocking a pot of pens onto the floor when your hands move to grip the edge of his desk.

Like this, with your back arched and your hips raised, cunt swallowing him whole, you’re the prettiest. When you’re slutting yourself out on his dick. Sorry. Leon’s only a man. This is how he thinks, how he’s wired to be, he can’t help it. You’re so fucking hot it drives him nuts.

The more you arch, the better it feels, he gives lazy thrusts that somehow manage to hit just right ‘cause you keen and fuck yourself on him, letting out hiccuped sobs of Daddy.

Daddy, daddy, daddy.

It’s all you can say. Fuck.

“I love you, baby,” Leon says. “I love you, daddy loves you.”

Oh, and you cum so hard he thinks you’re about to blackout. You don’t. But you do squirt. Pushing his cock out with the force of your high, Leon forces his dick further into you— The rush of liquid hits his skin in bursts, and you’re squeezing him tight, hole clenching like crazy in second-long intervals.

“Daddy… I love you.” Your words are slurred, but you never miss the opportunity to tell him how much you love him. “Love you more.”

“Not… Not possible.” Leon almost whines when he cums. Almost. You scratch behind his ears, it’s like you’re saying There you go, good daddy! Like he’s a dog. Leon is a dog, not a real dog, but a human dog. The pervert kind of dog.

He fills you up like a creampuff, and when his cock slips out, dribbles of his seed dripping from the tip, Leon’s quick to use his thumbs to keep your pussy spread.

“Push it out, baby.” He watches your hole twitch, milky cum spilling out as you exert your pussy. “Good girl, you’re such a good girl.” Leon kisses you hard, cradles the back of your head. “Daddy’s good girl.”

Leon helps you stand, his fingertips mould to the flesh of your ass when he gives it a squeeze. You’re a tender little darling, wrapping your arms around his neck to hug him. When his chin slots over your shoulder, and your scent is sweet on his nose, Leon gapes at the sight of his soggy paperwork. Unfortunately, Leon won’t even be fired for insolence, he’ll just have to face Hunnigan. Something he can’t do while sober. Could do it while pussy drunk though. Never thought about that.

“I think,” Leon starts, hoists you back onto the desk so he can pick you up, “it’s bath time.” You’re nodding off in his arms, barely able to cling onto him. He manages to get you to the bathroom, sitting you down on the counter. “Or is it naptime?”

“Naptime,” you mumble, wincing at the icy counter on your warmed skin.

“Whatever you say, baby.” Leon cleans you up, diligent in his role as Daddy. Would never let his sweetheart go to bed like that. “There we go, fresh as a daisy,” he claims post-towel wipe down.

“Sticky.” You always have a complaint for him. But it’s okay, he loves you. You’re his spoiled little girl.

“Okay, so then is it bath time?” He raises a brow and you shake your head.

“No! Naptime, daddy!” You loop your arms around his neck. “Up.”

“You’re so bossy, you know that?” Leon says while smiling. “Big fuckin’ baby, what am I gonna do with you?”

“Bad words,” you scold, tapping your finger on his lips.

“Daddy can say bad words.” He takes you to bed, fluffs up the pillows for you like he's never done for anyone else. “But you’re a little baby, you can’t say bad words.”

And for once, you’re so sleepy you have nothing bratty to say in return. “Okay, daddy, sleep now,” you say, rolling onto your side to hide your face in his chest.

“Okay, baby,” he laughs quietly, holding you close. “Sleeping now.”

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #resident evil x you #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

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pastrydragon · 4 months

Text

The BG3 Beef I wanna see shitpost

While I do love the idea of Tav/Astarion/Karlach/whoever getting more unique mean dialogue with Ulder Ravengard, especially when he has the audacity to take up space in your camp like that instead of someone cooler like Barcus or that one bullied hyena, I want very specific flavor text that you'd only get in the epilogue party if you pick a specific ending even more.

I think if you romance Wyll as Gale or Gale as Wyll and then you don't go to Avernus, I think it would be totally galaxy brain to have dialogue in the epilogue that reveals Ulder Ravengard and Morena Dekarios fucking DESPISE one another. Because they absolutely would.

We never get to meet Morena in game but you can tell from what Gale and Tara say about her and Gale's... Galeness that she is at least a part time passenger on the "Fuck you my child is fine" train. Her sweet little boy? Commit evil deeds? Never! There has obviously been a mistake. I mean she indulged that "Gale Of Waterdeep" nonsense and when Gale summoned a full on Tressym after being explicitly denied a kitten as a child, she just let him keep her. No repercussions.

And then her sweet boy brings home another sweet boy who is probably EXACTLY what she pictured Gale's partner should be like.(Because Wyll is the damn blueprint for "Guy you could bring home to mom") Wyll is ridiculously sweet to Gale, he's the perfect gentleman, he's very open to the idea of giving Morena the grandchildren she's been nagging Gale about in the very near future. Pinch her, she must be dreaming!

I cannot imagine her reacting to Wyll's backstory with any amount of empathy towards Ulder, obviously that man is a cruel psychopath to throw poor Wyll out like that after "a tiny misunderstanding" and Wyll is just too good of a son not to see it. Which is partially true, Wyll is definitely still in some kind of denial stage over what his father did but that's not the point of the post.

Then there's Ulder who probably thinks Gale is... Fine. He's not someone he ever would have pictured for Wyll. Gale is a babbling oddball, he has chronic foot-in-mouth disease and has only ever met the pointy end of a sword. But he can't say anything because Gale saved him, his son, and Bulder's gate, and a small army of tieflings, and apparently a bunch of mushroom people and blah blah more reasons he can never have the moral high ground blah. He's undeniably stuck with this fucking wizard, and his nightmare of a mother.

Morena firmly believes that since the Ravengard manor is technically Wyll's now, then it's also Gale's and thus is now hers as well. When I say she would walk through the doors like she owned the place I mean it very literally. Where did Ulder's old helmet display go? "They were rusty and it was ruining the wooden shelves, besides these enchanted swords go better with the new drapes we had to get, I don't know how you didn't notice how moth eaten they were getting." Everyday he wakes up and something about his own damn home has been changed to make it look more like a wizard tower. She doesn't even live here most of the time!

And it doesn't stop there, not at all. No this women has to make sure his son doesn't live there full time either. Every holiday and birthday she has to send Gale a letter about how much she misses him and you should visit so you can take a break from all that(Very important!) work and how she already has the venison just for Wyll.

And every time he's forced to interact with this harpy she looks at him with a sweet smile on her face, honey in her voice and the burning hatred of a thousand suns in her eyes then somehow managed to insult him five times in one sentence without ever explicitly insulting him. This women is a devil from Avernus sent to punish him for his sins and she's even won over the grandkids. Obviously that women is a manipulative psychopath for using her control over Gale to manipulate his son. Which, yeah Gale not being able to say no to his mom has contributed greatly to this and if Wyll knew what healthy boundaries looked like he probably wouldn't have put up with it but he doesn't so here we are.

Let these two be the Tom and Jerry style B plot to BG4 is what I'm saying.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #wyll ravengard #bg3 wyll #ulder ravengard #morena dekarios #gale x wyll #I don't know their ship name #I only ship it for the family drama #Astarion can also fill this role as Wyll's SO but this is funnier to me #bladeweave #thank you dromaeocore for telling me!

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tripleyeeet · 7 months

Text

A FOOLISH LOVER'S OFFERING (10)

SUMMARY: On the way to Moonrise you and Astarion talk about some important things.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 3,060

WARNINGS: Spoilers for Act 2 (henceforth there will be spoilers in all chapters here on out), ANGST, mentions of murder.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi this chapter single handedly took every brain cell I had to write so hopefully you like it because I just want to set it on fire for all the grief it has caused me!!

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

“Gods, I hate this place.”

Gripping your torch, you try your best to focus on the Harper’s. How they move through the shadows, navigating every twist and turn without issue, leading you through the pathways.

It hasn’t been long since you’ve started your journey. No longer can you see the shining veil of the Inn but, given what you know, you’re well aware that your destination isn’t nearly ahead either. There’s still plenty of walking to do. A few hour's journey at the least. Perhaps more if Astarion insists on continuing to walk so slowly.

At your side, his eyes scan the trees with a heavy breath, taking in the decrepit scenery at such a leisurely pace that it makes you huff and glance around, noting the distance between you and the others. At this point, you’re close enough that you can still see them but too far to hear what any of them are saying —something you’re certain Astarion’s done on purpose when he plants his arm around your shoulder.

“You know, I happen to find it quite charming. All the dread and despair. It’s a bit like being at home.”

You give him a look, raising your brow only to receive a snort in response, confirming that he’s (thankfully) kidding. “Ha, you think you’re so funny, don’t you?”

“Funny?” He moves his other hand to his chest, placing it against his leathers. “Darling, I’m hilarious.”

“Yes, yes, a real jester.”

His fingers flex around your shoulder, squeezing. “I’ll have you know I’ve always been funny. Even before all this vampiric bullshit.”

“Yeah?”

He nods, a slight thought flashing across his face that makes you wonder what he’s thinking about. Given the circumstances, you assume it’s a thought of the past. Perhaps of his life before Cazador’s reign. When he was merely an elf roaming topside around Baldur’s Gate without a care in the world. You imagine he was funny back then. Mischievous. Probably a little too out there, even for a magistrate considering the personality you’ve grown to love. Based on pure assumption, he probably had more fun in one night than you in a lifetime, spending his hard-earning coin on good food and drinks and—

“It’s rude to stare, you know.” He pulls you tighter into him, using his free hand to pluck the torch out of your hand so that you can wrap yourself around him. As you do, both of you breathe a sigh of what feels like relief, even though you’re currently experiencing anything but.

“Sorry.”

“Well, you were staring at me, so I suppose I can forgive.”

“Many thanks, my liege.”

He growls suggestively under his breath, making you scoff. “My liege, hm, I could get behind that.”

“Of course you could.”

“My liege,” he repeats, tasting it on his tongue, eyeing you with a lusty gaze that doesn’t quite make its mark.

Which only furthers the assumption that he’s deep inside his head still. Sifting through thoughts you’re completely unaware of as you walk in tandem to your potential untimely end. Almost immediately, it makes you wonder if maybe this is the right time to start asking questions. To finally speak up about the inquiries that have filed through your skull. Because after this, there’s no telling where you may find yourselves. You could be killed or locked away —lost to an abyss of some kind.

The options are endless; however, time is not, so instead of stewing in the silence you currently find yourselves in, you look up at him, taking in the shape of his face.

You’ve known him long enough now to know that the comments he often makes about his beauty are true. In appearance, he’s almost otherworldly. A beacon of well-aged flesh your eyes feel constantly drawn to. Whenever he’s around there’s this feeling of awe that comes forth. A subtle beating in your chest that quickens each time he’s present. When you look at him —really look at him— your eyes tend to open a little wider, surprised by how every feature seems to fit so perfectly in place. How everything feels uncharacteristically cohesive given his time spent abused beneath the moon, forced to stave and serve for all eternity.

If it weren’t for the issue of Cazador you’d be convinced he was blessed by the Gods themselves. Melded by their very hands to create a being of such high temptation and desire. You imagine them brainstorming his existence. Tirelessly spending weeks on end crafting the perfect specimen that would ultimately end up broken.

You realize then, taking in the lines that have developed throughout countless bouts of false grinning, that the very thing he loves most about himself was more than likely the result of his own downfall.

A downfall you find you’re still curious about. Even after your conversation, Astarion’s life before all this still holds an air of mystery. Between details already revealed, there are still patches of missing information. Sections of time where assumptions feel wrong but asking feels just as bad. And because of that, deep down, you know you should leave the curiosity alone. Pack it into the back of your mind for later use, but with the oncoming war and no determined outcome, you instead loosen your hold and take a side step.

“Can I ask you something?”

He narrows his eyes, readjusting his position now that you’re not locked against him, suddenly looking awkward as he puffs out his chest. “Depends.”

“On?”

“Whether or not the question is going to be depressing,” he replies. “Because you have that look in your eye.”

“What look?”

He reaches out to poke your forehead, pressing it roughly. “The one where your brows look like they’re going to become one at a moment’s notice.”

Swatting his hand away, you twitch your brows back into their proper positioning, annoyed. “I was going to ask about Cazador,” you tell him, truthfully. “I know he’s probably not a topic you want to discuss as we waltz to our potential doom but —I don’t know— I just have questions.”

He sighs deeply, drawing out his breath before giving you an unimpressed look that speaks volumes.

He doesn’t want to talk about it. Nor do you, but at the same time, you’re at the point where you’re unable to deny your interest because Astarion’s your friend. A companion you cherish more than you know you should. A person whose well-being is so important you’d virtually do anything to maintain it. Which is why you’re determined to pry a bit more than usual. Taking these final moments you have to yourself to ask the one question you’ve been wondering for ages.

“What will you do about him? When this is all over.”

Surprisingly, there’s no hesitation in his words when he tells you he’ll kill him. As you continue along the path, listening to him come up with all the vile ways he’d do it, you find yourself strangely calm. Numb almost to the descriptions of stakes being driven into hearts or knives slicing through jugular veins. Lost in the way he throws your torch around with every passing phrase.

“Personally, I think a stake to the heart’s a bit cheap,” you eventually comment, watching him laugh. Hearing the way the sound quickly flutters out and hits your ears, making you smile despite the subject matter.

“It’s a classic for a reason, my dear.”

“Is it though? I mean, in my experience there’s far better ways to kill someone.”

“Is there, now? Do tell.”

You’re not sure if it’s just because you’ve grown used to the excessive violence throughout your journey or because Astarion’s tendencies have potentially rubbed off on you. Either way, as the two of you joke of his master’s demise you find yourself wondering if maybe such a result is even plausible. Sure, you’ve never killed a vampire. Hell, before Astarion you’re not even sure you’ve seen one up close, but for him, you’d be willing to try. Especially given the ever-growing lack of regard for your own safety.

“Honestly, the only thing that’s coming to mind is cutting him open and doing something to his innards.”

His brows shoot up in surprise, making you laugh. “Mm, a cold-blooded killer after my own heart.”

You roll your eyes, prompting his hand to subtly grip your own. Tangling your fingers together, he raises your palm carefully up to his lips and places a lingering kiss. One that tickles your flesh long after he’s gone, leaving you grinning like a fool, wondering if this is what love feels like.

You imagine it is. Deep beneath the surface, your chest is tight but not with fear. Instead, there’s only warmth that spreads —a growing sensation of heat that wraps around your lungs and heart. Filling you with this discomforting ache that only he can alleviate. So much so that it makes you want to scream sometimes, knowing he’s the cause. That somehow through his charms and tricks he’s managed to find a home inside your chest without permission. How he’s sliced you open with that wicked grin and crawled inside, calling you darling all the while.

It makes you wonder if he feels the same. If all the afflictions he’s given you are returned in some capacity. If when you look at him his mouth goes dry or his heart skips a beat. Or the longing to be near is indeed reciprocated and not just another plot to keep you close.

Because sometimes it’s hard to tell.

Throughout your journey, you’ve gone back and forth a hundred times, debating the possibilities —weighing the pros and cons of every interaction that you’ve ever had. Even now, knowing such trivial thoughts should be the last thing on your mind, you can’t help but wonder: does he care for you? Truly? Does he think of you? Does he look for you? Within his everyday thoughts does your presence linger in the background, waiting for the right moment to be put on full display for him to admire?

Does he love you?

“You know, if you ever need help with the whole murdering Cazador thing…”

It sounds ridiculous when you say it. So nonchalant and unfazed. Even you have to cringe at the way you trail off, waiting for him to speak. Praying that he’ll laugh or scoff or say literally anything to fill the silence you find yourselves walking through.

It takes him a while but eventually, you hear him quietly sigh, his gaze moving to view your nervous face. “It won’t be easy, you know. Cazador isn’t some vagabond with a blade, he’s—“

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.”

He says it like a warning. As if he’s preparing to scold you for speaking out of term, narrowing his eyes with a huff. “Darling, I appreciate the enthusiasm but Cazador —he’s different. He’s not like the villains we’ve faced thus far. He isn’t motivated by greed or lust. The only thing he wants is power. Power over me —over you.”

He pauses then, swallowing hard. Making it apparent then that this hypothetical conversation of murderous jokes has turned into something far more real. That your offering is no longer a mere gesture of kindness but instead a potential act of solidarity. One that you extend further by running your thumb along his, applying a bit of pressure at the joint, feeling him twitch.

“You know there’s very little I wouldn’t do for you, right?”

In an instant his eyes are on you, staring in surprise, trying to process the words that’ve just spilled through your lips. At first, they’re focused on their position, fully immersed in the way you clear your throat, trying to suppress a nervous laugh as you continue to grip his hand. Not long after though, they start to go distant, moving past your face to view the trees behind you, fizzling out of reality so quick that all you can do is try to pull him back.

“I know you probably think I’m in idiot for even suggesting that fact that I may be capable of killing someone who spent centuries in control of so many people—“

“A bit, yes.”

You snort, watching him slowly start to return to you, his lips curling into a half smile you can’t help but reach out and touch, stopping your stride. “But I would do anything you asked of me. Even if it meant death, I would kill that bastard for you without hesitation. Whatever way you wanted, whether it’s decapitation or throwing him off a bloody cliff or—“

The light of the torch shifts as his hand slips out of yours, taking hold of your head to guide you to his lips. To press his mouth to yours with such need that the breath within your lungs is ripped out. Swallowed behind his starving tongue —lapping whatever life you have to offer as his hand drifts over your cheek, taking hold of your flesh to keep you from leaving.

Standing still, you can feel the tenseness of his frame as it all happens. How aside from his mouth and hand the rest of him refuses to move, prompting you to reach out, running your hands along his sides, coaxing him to relax.

When his body does, you slowly pull away, sucking in air like your life depends on it, watching with half-lidded eyes and swollen lips as he opens his mouth to speak, stuttering out something incoherent before swearing under his breath.

Narrowing your eyes further, you watch him struggle to speak, wondering what could be going on in that complicated brain of his as he turns his body, releasing you from his grasp in favour of moving forward again.

Immediately, it makes you drop your jaw in annoyance, watching his hands move towards his hair, gripping his locks in frustration as you hear him mutter to himself and continue to move, leaving you behind.

“Hold on, you’re just going to kiss me like that and walk away?”

He doesn’t even turn to acknowledge you as you yell, making you even angrier as you race toward him, placing a rough hand against his shoulder to gain his attention.

“Astarion—“

“Do you mean it?”

Your mouth twitches when he turns, looking at you with angry eyes. Scanning you with knitted brows filled with so much frustration all you can do is breathe and nod.

“Why?”

Because I love you.

“Because…”

“Tell me.”

Your mouth is drier than it’s ever been, making it hard for you to form the words as you feel your tongue poke out to wet your lips. “I—“

His shoulder shifts from your grasp in one quick motion, leaving you bare —untethered and weak against the aggression of his eyes staring you down. “You know, I’ve spent centuries coming up with all the ways I’d do it. How I’d kill him if given the chance.”

You watch his gaze move to the trees again, travelling elsewhere even though you’re here, standing still in front of him, already wondering how you'll get him back.

“Despite the scenarios being nothing but my foolish imagination running rampant, every time I end up suffering. Forced further into madness —pushed to the brink of what my body is capable of handling.” He shakes his head before raising it, blinking back tears that make your body ache. “Even in my wildest dreams I cannot win against his torment and yet… the moment you mention it… the moment you look at me with those eyes—”

Hearing him choke back a nervous laugh, this time it’s you who’s on him, clutching his face with both hands, pressing your thumbs to the inner corners of his eyes to wipe away the liquid that continues to pool.

“Why are you so willing to help me do the unimaginable?”

This time there’s no hesitation. No moment of thought that graces your mind as you smile up at him, pulling him further down with shaking hands to press your forehead to his. “It’s because I love you,” you tell him then. Barely above a whisper, you let it filter out like smoke, allowing it to envelop him entirely as you breathe and take him in, watching the way his lips unfurl and the anger laced within his features slips away. “And because the thought of allowing him to live after what he did to you fills me with a kind of rage I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before.”

His hand moves to stroke the side of your neck. Gently, his fingers run across the bite marks he's inflicted, marking their positions with two subtle taps before they glide away, rooting themselves at the back of your head for support. Forcing you to remain in the moment, realizing what you’ve just said.

It’s hardly the right time to admit your feelings. But then again, given the circumstances, you quickly remember that there really isn’t one. Considering you're in the middle of a war, on your way to Ketheric’s base, it’s very unlikely you’ll have a spare moment to clear your mind and properly say all the things you’ve been itching to say.

Until the end, it’ll always feel like something’s missing —like you’ve forgotten an important phrase or detail. That whatever you say will never be enough to fully convey the weight of how he makes you feel each time he looks you up and down or makes you laugh.

Even as you stand before him now, holding him tight —watching the tears within his eyes threaten to spill once again, you know nothing you say will ever amount to the ache inside your chest, knowing that you’ve managed to give him the last sliver of hope you have to offer.

“I love you, Astarion,” you repeat then, praying this time it holds its weight. That the nervous rush inside your stomach passes through and all you’re left with is the kind of warmth you’ve only read about in stories.

His jaw is slack as you repeat your confession, shifting in a way that makes you more nervous than it should, watching him blink and hearing him breathe —doing everything but speak the words you want to hear as Shadowheart calls your name, pulling you both away to notice the annoyed look on her face as she tells you to hurry up.

TAGLIST:

@poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo@jjfchk@idiotsatan@bluestuesday@bloopthebat@art-by-greenie@heneralmoon@sukunababe@dreamingaboutyousworld@ranfithegood@haniscrying@liadamerondjarin@the-lake-is-calling@marina-and-the-memes@rookieoftheyear@zraloci-cpr@kaetmo@snickerdoodle-daydream@wowowwild@d1anna@raswiet@conniesbbymama@venus-wrts@demonicthorns@kihten@deadglamsheep@sanscas@spammypasta@leighsartworks216@rose-gold-blue@p1ssmagg0t@hellish-writes@ghostinvenus@otayz@sexysquatch@sleepyeclair@colorful-anxieties@alina-exe@ilana-the-lasagna@lillifer@girlwiththepapatattoo@y2cade@acelin-ginsberg@pinkuranium@catrad0rable@scarletrosesposts@qwnamidala@itsrosebabe@bunnyperi@queenofcarrotflowers-s@tatumadams20@spkyxszn@chlort@f3v3rs@awkwardwookie@joy-the-reader@warm-milk-with-honey-blog@vertigocrime@iyis@wildpiper@pebblethestone@tillywasneverhere@bex-03@kaetmo@revemiya@staticspouse@itzagothamcitysiren@djarinsmixtape@when-the-night-came@epicy0n@bababahannah@sleepyred1703@lotus-99@lofcompass@r4d10h34d5@vampninjaz@itsmekalou@offbrandhand@yikes-buddy@konenichi@rainonarden@oceanbluesixeyes@bodtyworship@maydayitsjay@greasyslimebucket@yeeteth-the-raven@fantasyfairysworld@allexthakatt@flowersaretheshit@morglyne@thespectacularspaceace@cephiss0@use-your-telescope@furblrwurblr@kloverfield@angelofthorr@writervaul-t@starved-kitten@minixluvr@crowley--aziraphale@sapphicwren@alionera-blog@jennithejester@dezedrol@thisisew@saladalpaca@applepiewithbacon@httpbiohazard@aurasyn@nerdoodles@kingpinthedevil@itzkawaiix@domainoflostsouls@silverskylan@uminootome@helpidkwhatimdoingwrong@deadlyinfernos@blackbirdswhispers@sarahskywalker-amadala@writingmysanity@f3v3rs@jayjones03@quietlyebbie@optimisticprime3@eyes-for-daze@sunnytalia3@megoshh@maddiedott

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#a foolish lover's offering #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion fan fic #astarion series #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #astarion x you #summer writes

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genderkoolaid · 9 months

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Rating Yonic Words (Very Logical and Unbiased and Scientific and Impartial)

Vagina et al. - 2/10. Hard* "g" sound is awful. Its a chewy word. Would be better with a soft "g" like in the french vagin, but even thats like, 5/10. Also way overused to describe the whole set when its only the main hole, but its also the proper clinical word for said hole. "Vag" is slightly better but carries the sin of the father (hard "g"), and va-jay-jay is a solid 0. You just doubled the worst sound here. Its the yonic Cain.

*not actually hard, my brain is just too french, but i don't think this sound deserves to be called soft. it's a chewy g. forgive me for my lies

Vulva - 10/10. Love him. "V" sounds flow so nicely. You could sing this in an opera. Also actually refers to the whole kit n caboodle. May be a little clinical for some but we can change that. We can make it horny. You can help me make it horny. Betty Dodson would want you to help me make it horny.

Pussy - 7/10. Gets some points for being a classic, and its decent sounding. But the "s" sounds aren't the best, especially alongside the "p" sound. Its just a little too harsh and kind of juvenile. Good for a laff.

Punani et al. - 2 to 7/10. Gets cool points for being a descendant of the Akan language through Jamaican creole. Gets a range of points because I'm grouping poontang (bad word to say and hear) in with punani (a clear 7)

Labia - 10/10. Vulva's lovely twin. Another word you could sing. The "b" sound isn't offputting- it flows nicely between the elegant "L" and "ia." Again, a bit clinical, but so good to say. Labia (the word and the body part) deserve more love.

Fanny - 0/10. Pussy's worse sounding cousin. Replacing the "s" sounds with "n" removes the flow of pussy, which makes this the yonic-linguistic equivalent of going down a dry waterslide.

Cunt - 10/10. Its like a punch in a good way. Not too harsh, but makes its point clearly; a well-rounded sound. Can be comedic and horny but its not too unserious. Good mouthfeel. I'm a big cunt fan. Can also be an insult, but such is the way of sex organs. Such a versatile word.

Coochie - 4/10. Sorry to the coochie lovers out there but my god? The "ch" sound? Awful to hear. Get that out of my genitalia. Gets points for comedic use, which I respect.

Twat - 2/10. Sounds like the sound made when Batman decks some guy in the face. The "t" sounds here are just unpleasant, and when combined with "æ" it gets worse. Sorry Brits & co. </3

Clitoris / Clit - 9/10. Important organ we all know and love. Both long & short versions sound good, although I think it could be smoother. Way better clinical term than vagina, but I wish we had wider options for him.

Snatch - 3/10. I'm not a fan of the sounds at play here (once again, get "ch" out of here), but I find this word really funny. I cannot imagine this being used hornily. It sounds like the name of a delightful cryptid.

Quim - 4/10. What are you, from the 1700s? I think it sounds alright, the "q" isn't abrasive, but unless you are writing historical fiction it just doesn't sound right.

Any and All Metaphorical Words - 1/10. Never work outside of extremely horny contexts or jokes. Gets one point for extremely horny contexts and jokes.

#this post brought to you by a conversation i had with myself a few nights ago #m.

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magenta-embers · 6 months

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Fetus Jimin's Blatant Crush on Jungkook

Today I wanted to travel back in time and put a spotlight on a period of utmost importance when it comes to understanding the full picture of Jikook and part of what makes it such a legitimate possibility.

Believing that they could truly be a couple now is made as easy as breathing when you observe their history. You need the whole context to take Jikook from just another ship to something potentially very real. It's a context that the other pairings in the group just don't have.

The Jimin and Jungkook we know now are settled and comfortable with themselves and with each other. You could call them domestic. But back in the day, say 2013-2015, it was a different story.

To put it simply: Jimin and Jungkook had a massive mutual crush on each other and it wasn't even remotely subtle.

Most Jikookers know what I'm talking about, but if you haven't had a chance to look deeper into the context of these two together, here's a teensy intro.

I'm gonna share a select few of my personal highlight moments exhibiting Jimin's crush + his confusion/acceptance regarding it. There are hours of moments to choose from and an image/gif limit, so we'll keep it to a minimum.

We're going to focus on the Jimin side of things today. Jungkook will probably get his own post as these two expressed their feelings quite differently.

Present-day Jimin is very good at compartmentalizing what thoughts or parts of thoughts he shares with us. He's vague in all the right areas, chooses his words carefully, omits certain details, and is overall pretty masterful at the parasocial aspect of being an idol. Back then though?

Holy sweet mother of pearl, he just said and did anything.

He was honest (embarrassingly so) and he wore his heart on his sleeve. Because of this fumbling period with no brain-to-mouth filter, there exists some incredible retrospective insight into how Jimin feels about Jungkook at his core, without all the masking and nonchalance we get nowadays.

(Let's be real though, he still slips up)

"JK is coming."

Boy 💀

Let's get into it.

Exhibit A

This first section is going to look at a very young Jimin's struggle with these new, unfamiliar feelings he's been having lately (not necessarily in exact chronological order but some highlights within the "budding crush" stage).

A.1

While affectionately petting the maknae's hair and nape, Jimin wonders aloud why he likes Jungkook so much, as if he likes him an abnormal amount or differently than the five other friends he has in the group. If anything, Jimin should have liked Tae the most at this point since they were friends from school. Yet, Jimin openly questions what makes Jungkook different.

It's an introspective question disguised as a rhetorical one. Obviously, Jimin doesn't want JK to answer and JK, shy as he is, doesn't know how to answer a loaded question like that so he tries to redirect Jimin's attention to actual matters. It doesn't quite work.

Jimin then says, "These days, Jungkook..." and trails off while scratching his head with lighthearted frustration as if to say, "These days, Jungkook... plagues my mind," or something to that sentiment. JK's on his mind a lot and it confuses him. He doesn't finish the sentence but instead brushes it off with a laugh.

He holds back because it'll look weird to people if he gets into how much he thinks about JK or unpacks why. Still, he can't help but start to talk about it, because it's something that's actively bothering him.

A.2

Like I said, not only does Jimin think about JK too much, but he's also thinking about how people will judge him for how he perceives Jungkook. People might think he's strange.

Why?

JK's the timid maknae with big, curious eyes. Of course, he's cute. Everyone will agree. Everyone does agree. So why is Jimin concerned with what he can say about Jungkook that's okay to others? He even pouts sadly for a moment at the end. The maknae's cute and he's kind of glum over it? He's definitely been overthinking it.

Also, the way Jimin cartoonishly moves his head and eyes while talking about how bewildered JK always is and how adorable he is for it is a hilarious attempt at being nonchalant, but to me, it just looks like a schoolboy trying not to seem gushy about his secret crush.

A.3

Jungkook's so cute and so charming that Jimin can't function like he wants to. Can't live properly because Jungkook's on his mind constantly. He's super distracting. Is this a normal friendship thing? No. You don't see Hobi or Joon saying this about him. It's a problem exclusive to Jimin. And exclusive for Jungkook.

Jimin knows it's weird too. He's acting lighthearted about it, but to randomly say, "I can't live because of you" and keep bumping into JK is his frustration bleeding through. All the while he can't take his eyes off him as if he's trying to solve his dilemma right then and there.

Overall, It seems like Jimin doesn't understand what it is he's feeling, just that it's a lot, which makes me think that up until the Jungkook point, he hadn't really considered his sexuality on a meaningful level. We know that Jimin was the least experienced romantically, so it wouldn't surprise me if that's the case.

It's okay, Jiminie. You'll figure out a lot of things about yourself sooner rather than later.

Exhibit B

This section is about a period of time when Jimin accepted his crush and became unbelievably annoying vocal about it. You could also do an essay on why he was so in everyone's face about it.

B.1

Man, he just outright said it, huh?

Jimin wants to be with Jungkook and go on a date with him and hold hands.

Okay, pack it up everyone, we're done here. He like likes him, oooooooh!

Look at him clinging to JK's clothes and merrily skipping forward holding his wrist. Bless his heart. As Jimin once mentioned, "My heart that thinks of Jungkook is quite big."

Peep everyone else's reactions. JK has no objections and is just basically making his "Yeeeeeaaaah" face. Namjoon and Yoongi are a mix of confused and exasperated, both going, "What?" at the inappropriate(?) answer. Hobi attempts a poker face.

They shove Jimin away and attempt to move on...

And Jimin comes right back, practically leaps on Jungkook to plead with him to "live happily together." Okay.

When I tell you he's embarrassing.

Now Namjoon is straight-up irritated because Jimin didn't get the hint and is ruining the interview. He rolls his eyes and shoves them both back this time like he knows he's gotta get rid of the whole equation.

Hobi's glare poker face fails and he attempts to redirect focus to the topic with his own answer, complete with a pointed hand gesture.

Yoongi has a genuine scrunch of judgy confusion as if he just doesn't get wtf Jimin is trying to do because he should know better or why he's acting so clingy right now.

Jungkook quietly preens under Jimin's attention, but it's also awkward because he can read the room, so he doesn't quite know how to react other than remain pliable. He does reach for Jimin's hand subconsciously though.

I don't think it's even necessary to keep going, but oh ho ho, we're gonna keep going.

B.2

Tae: "I think he kind of likes men."

Now, I don't love the way Tae blurts this out, putting Jimin on the spot and nearly outing him. But also, it's meant to be a joke and he likely doesn't know yet just how on the nose he really is. Tae has grown and matured a lot over the years, so forgive him for this blip.

I imagine Tae has had to sit through a lot of sus rants from Jimin about Jungkook at this point. Because it's interesting that the statement came out of him so readily as if he's considered this about Jimin more than once. He's one of the closest people to Jimin, so if he's been pondering this about his friend then it's a pretty significant observation.

Now how does Jimin react to this out-of-pocket accusation? Is it:

a) "Haha, noooo!"

b) "What are you saying?"

c) "Not like that!"

d) "Come on now."

e) He doesn't deny it whatsoever.

If you answered e, you get a sun and moon sticker. It would've been so easy and expected for Jimin to deny this claim, but he doesn't. Because he can't. Because he'd be lying. Because he does kind of like men. Especially one in particular. And Jimin is just too honest.

He does very gracefully tiptoe around a confirmation (and a shutdown of the topic) by telling Tae he doesn't like him specifically. His reflex was to be defensive of himself and how much he likes Jungkook. It also further confirms that how Jimin likes Tae (his best friend) is different from how he likes Jungkook. It's all truly very telling.

(JK's reactions are very cute, but we won't get into that here.)

B.3

Host: "You're free to go anywhere in the world with anyone you want to do anything you wish. Where are you, what are you doing, and who are you with?"

Jimin:

Really? He had this romantic-ass answer ready to go. The other members gave normal answers about family and such. Jimin could've easily. But no. He then smiles sweetly over at Jungkook. The host is actually flustered by his answer and translates what he says, but conveniently leaves out the holding hands part.

But this is a fluke, right? He just said Jungkook as a silly answer, right?

Oh, look! Another instance when he can answer with anything and still ends up being honest.

"I think Jungkook is very cute." It's his go-to answer when people ask him why he likes JK so much. People keep mentioning it because his liking for Jungkook is noticeably and abnormally loud. Yet, Jimin's usual answer isn't really a complete answer, is it? "Cute" can be part of a reason, but not the whole reason. Cute is the safe detail he can share.

Lmao at Tae's side-eye at Jimin fawning over Jungkook shamelessly. You can tell he's thinking, "...this mf likes men" again. He hasn't perfected that Tae poker face just yet.

So Jimin really wants that private trip with Jungkook, hey? Why not with Tae, his bestie? His soulmate? Tae's also very cute, no?

Because he doesn't mean a friend trip.

(Don't fret, Jiminie. You'll get your private trip with Jungkook and it'll be beyond your expectations.)

B.4

A couple of examples of Jungkook being aggressively on Jimin's mind even when he's just answering basic questions.

No one: So, what do-

Jimin: Jungkookie <3

Literally, who asked? No one's twisting his arm here to make him answer "Jungkook" with romantic implications under these totally general questions. He could've answered with literally anything else.

Some thoughts:

If he was being speedy and just writing/saying the first things that popped into his head, it still means Jungkook is at the forefront of his mind. Plagues his mind, if you will.

If he was carefully considering the questions and answering honestly, it still means Jungkook is heavily weighing in his mind at a vulnerable level.

Jungkook still came before performing and receiving attention. The first thing. Not the last thing as a joke because Jimin couldn't think of anything else.

He makes sure to stake his claim over Jungkook in his description of him. "Mine." How fanfic.

His weakness is Jungkook. He can't resist him. Point blank. Why would he say that? How else am I supposed to interpret that?

Jungkook reaches every corner of Jimin's mind. Even if Jimin manages to convince himself he's just being playful and jokey, it's the repetitive nature and exclusivity of Jungkook being involved in his answers that are eyebrow-raising and give him away. He might as well doodle hearts around "JK" all over the page. It's a textbook crush. He's infatuated with this person he thinks is unattainable.

B.5

"Happy Birthday Jeon Jungkook! Please accept my love!" followed by blowing a kiss, an awkward giggle, and a glance at Jungkook.

What love? He's already accepted your platonic love; you guys are good friends, attached at the hip, and Jungkook's made it explicitly clear he likes you a lot and appreciates how well you treat him/take care of him. What more do you want him to accept, exactly, Jimin?

Again, unnecessary. No one's making him say this. No one's expecting him to say this. No one wants him to say this. And yet.

B.6

Manifest your dreams, Jiminie.

I don't even have to explain to you how common the "We look like a couple! Haha, just kidding... Unless?" thing is. We've all been there. You want to plant the seed in your crush's head. You want them to think about it, to consider the image of you two together. Jimin's planted a whole grove in JK's head with the way he's been all over him these couple of years.

Exhibit C

The kisses.

The amount of times Jimin either asks to kiss Jungkook, asks Jungkook to kiss him, or tries to kiss Jungkook is quite frankly absurd. These are just some examples. Some!

Imagine this was your friend who keeps trying to kiss you. For years. Jokes get really old really fast. You'd laugh and play along the first time. Laugh it off the second time. Force a laugh the third time.

At what point would you start wondering if your friend has legitimate feelings for you?

At what point do you think Jungkook did?

Especially considering Jimin's general behavior toward him.

(The other members don't laugh when it happens in front of them. It's always either wtf are you saying or they change the subject with visible discomfort.)

What Jimin is doing here (via "jokes") is testing Jungkook's boundaries, gauging his reactions, because he's interested in him beyond platonic limits. He really, really wants to kiss Jungkook and fantasizes about it, but he will not make a serious first move out of fear of being rejected.

Food for thought: Post-2015, Jimin doesn't ask Jungkook for kisses anymore or beg him to love him back, while coincidentally also becoming intimately touchier than ever with each other.

Perhaps Jimin finally got what he wanted? Hmm...

We can stop here. I think you get the point.

Everyone, say it with me now: Jimin wants Jungkook romantically.

He wants to go on dates with Jungkook.

He wants to hold hands with Jungkook.

He wants to kiss Jungkook.

He's expressed these things in every way he can:

He's acted them out.

He's said them aloud.

He's written them down.

Over and over and over again. What more do you want? I am not assuming anything. To say that he doesn't is just blatantly ignoring poor Jimin screaming it from the rooftops to fit whatever agenda you have. It's a you problem.

If you want to see more examples of everything (because there are still plenty), just watch this. In fact, watch every video on this channel. Treat yourself.

youtube

Also thanks to this heaven-sent channel for the captions on almost everything in this post (all gifs by me).

If I see a single one of you say with your whole chest that Jimin thinks of Jungkook in a brotherly way after this, I will hunt you down and beat your ass and your brother's ass.

Open your damn eyes.

I hope you enjoyed my spiel. Till next time!

#jikook #jimin

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naughtyneganjdm · 1 year

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Mine - Chapter 1

Story Summary: Joel Miller finds a woman in Jackson that is head over heels for him, but the trauma from his loss and past puts him in jeopardy of losing the one person he’s close to when he’s unable to show her the kind of love and affection she craves. Will he be able to change his ways or will he lose out to the charming newbie Negan in town?

Characters: Joel Miller (The Last of Us), Negan (The Walking Dead), the reader (OC, third person), etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45115177/chapters/113491984

Warnings: Swearing, smut, angst, etc.

Notes: I decided to do another cross over story with The Last of Us and The Walking Dead. This is based off The Last of Us universe and I’m starting this story before we actually get to see Jackson, so some of this is going based off the game a bit as well. I know this is different for me, but for some reason my brain was eager to write it. Y/N means your name or whatever name you want to use. This first chapter heavily focuses on Joel and Y/N’s relationship. Gif Credits: @tomshiddles & @jdmorganz

A cool gust of wind made Y/N pull her jacket in closer to her body while she sat on the steps of her porch in Jackson. There was a sense of nervousness and panic flooding her veins. She wondered if maybe she was too early for her planned date. She couldn’t believe she was actually worrying about a date. It had been so long since she had been on one. Who knew that living in a time like this would actually give time for people to have dates. That’s what was nice about Jackson. It brought back to life the way things used to be. At least somewhat.

When Y/N was brought to Jackson after her group was found, she didn’t believe it at first. A small little town that was closed off and protected that had electricity? It was an amazing thought. One that made her question if it was real to begin with. The only thing about Jackson was that to make everything work everyone had to work hard. It made you appreciate everything all the more.

It had been quite some time since she had arrived in Jackson and it had already been pretty eventful. She had come just before Tommy was reunited with his brother Joel who had become the talk of the town. When Joel had returned after leaving the first time, he became an important staple to the town. With his knowledge of construction along with his wits about the world in general, people often looked to him. Y/N was one of the fortunate people that got to work with him frequently. Well, to her she was lucky. Many people acknowledged that he was important to the community, but he could come off rather unfriendly and unwelcoming to others. He was working hard to break down that wall that he had obviously built up over the years, but it was taking a lot out of him. But Y/N saw beyond that tough exterior. He was a man with a good heart that was super charming when given the chance. All it took was Y/N getting to see him interact with Ellie for her to know how she felt about him.

A moment of bravery led to her asking Joel out on a date earlier today. At first when she asked him, it seemed like he didn’t know how to respond. It visibly caught him off guard and it almost immediately made her regret asking him because she assumed he didn’t feel the same way about her which led to her apologizing profusely. The long pause from Joel when she asked just made her assume that Joel didn’t feel the same way, but he did his best to get her to calm down and agreed to going out with her for a drink at the local bar they had in Jackson.

It had Y/N excited, probably too excited. She tried on multiple outfits before finally deciding on something to wear. It wasn’t like she had a wide array of clothing since it was the apocalypse after all and there was only so much she could choose from. It was a colder night for them in Jackson so she had to end up wearing a coat anyways.

With the sun going down, she wondered if Joel was going to show up at this point and it made her worry. Maybe he didn’t want to go on this date and he didn’t want to make her feel bad at work earlier. Right when she was about to give up, she heard footsteps approaching and lifted her head to see Joel standing before her. He seemed nervous when he swallowed down loudly and tossed his hands up in the air.

“Sorry, I was uh…getting a peptalk,” Joel explained with an uneven breath pointing back toward the house that he lived in. His graying hair seemed more properly groomed than it usually was and he sighed loudly. “Ellie told me I should shower and put on something nice.”

“I’ll have to thank her,” Y/N winked making a flush of color flood into Joel’s cheeks when she carefully stood from the steps that she was sitting on to move across the yard to him. “You look good.”

“Oh, thanks,” Joel quickly looked down at what he was wearing and cleared his throat uneasily. It took a minute before he gazed over her and nodded. “So do you.”

“We both look like we’re ready for the cold,” she teased him reaching out to playfully touch his shoulder seeing the way he shifted on his feet. It was a bit of an awkward moment, but she just pointed in the direction they were supposed to go. “You ready?”

“Sure,” Joel waited for her to go first and then he stepped in beside her to follow her toward town. There was a long silence between the two of them and he licked his lips in a nervous sweep. “I won’t lie to you Y/N, it’s been a very long time since I’ve been on a date of some kind. I’m not very good at this. I’m not very outgoing.”

“That’s okay,” she assured him with a shrug of her shoulders. “I know you’re a man of a few words, but I find the mystery about you all the more appealing. It makes me look forward to the future when I get to pull information out of you.”

The way his chocolate brown eyes gazed over at her made her smile because it seemed to interest him with what she said, “I know I’m probably a mess and I will say stupid things tonight so I immediately apologize ahead of time.”

“No, you’re good,” Joel shook his head and gave a small smirk. It wasn’t often that Joel smiled or even smirked so it made her heart flutter inside of her chest seeing it. Under the faint glowing lights of the town, Y/N couldn’t helped but be charmed with the fact that Joel appeared to try to groom his facial hair as well. The gray hair looked good with his tanned flesh and she knew that she was swooning too hard right now. She needed to dial it back a bit. When they got to the bar, Joel put on that southern gentleman charm and held the door open for her. “Ma’am.”

“Thank you,” she gave him a wink and headed inside feeling the warmth of the building surrounding them. It was loud and she noticed the way it made Joel uncomfortable. Noticing an empty table in the corner, Y/N motioned Joel to follow her and felt herself in awe with the way he helped her into her seat before going to his. Joel pulled off his jacket to reveal his plaid button-down shirt that he had chosen to wear.

“I didn’t realize it was so loud here,” Joel spoke louder than normal, leaning forward toward the table to get her attention. “Then again, I don’t really come here often. I like…sticking to myself.”

“Well I’m glad you decided to come here with me,” she extended her hand out across the table to place her hand in over his for a moment. Joel’s eyes shifted to look at the gesture and she unhurriedly pulled her hand away. She was way too eager to touch him and maybe it looked pathetic so early in the date. “Hopefully we can get to know one another more.”

“I think I know you pretty well,” Joel informed her, getting more comfortable in the seat before gazing around the busier bar that the people of Jackson had come to in order to relax after a long day of work.

“Oh yeah?” she found herself more so focused on Joel while he was taking in the area surrounding them. Joel was used to being on edge from the stories she heard from Tommy about his brother. So it made sense that he would be taking in everything all at once. “What do you know about me?”

“Well, I know you’re a good worker. Reliable. Trustworthy. Kind,” Joel listed off some things that made her smile when his brown eyes finally connected with hers. “You listen to folks. You’re easy to work with. You make working enjoyable.”

“I’m glad you think all of those things about me,” she admitted seeing him nod and she let out a long sigh. There was a boost of laughter that drew Joel’s attention away from her and she almost damned that they picked here for their ‘date’. Looking toward the corner where the pool tables were, she saw a group of people having fun together and Joel grunted. “What?”

“A lot of people in town seem to like that Negan guy,” Joel grumbled under his breath making her smirk when Joel shook his head and he seemed to roll his eyes.

“Not a fan, huh?” she teased him noticing the way that Joel seemed uncomfortable in the chair before her.

“He’s just…loud,” Joel explained stealing another look in the direction of everyone that was there. Negan’s eyes lifted from the pool table that he was at to see that both Y/N and Joel were staring out at him. A large smile pressed in over Negan’s chiseled features when he waved. It immediately made Joel freeze up because he didn’t know how to respond to it. It took him seeing Y/N wave back out of the corner of his eye to realize that it was Y/N Negan was waving to. “You two know one another?”

“Yeah, we work together a lot,” Y/N answered Joel about the newer member of Jackson. “He’s funny. Has the mouth of a sailor, but I like him. He makes work interesting most days when things get boring.”

“Oh,” Joel seemed tense after she admitted that she knew Negan. “So you’re like everyone else that is charmed by him, huh? You find him attractive?”

“Sure, he’s a good-looking guy,” she commented with a shake of her head noticing the way that Joel tensed up upon hearing her say that. Was it too soon for her to be excited at the idea that he might be jealous to hear that? Because it sure looked like he was jealous hearing that she thought Negan was a good-looking man. “Although, I think he’s already taken.”

“Is he?” Joel suddenly seemed interested further in Negan and it made her smile. That was something she would have never pinned Joel for. Being a gossip. But she found it cute. “With who?”

“I don’t know, he talks about a girl named Morgan all the time,” she thought back on previous conversations watching Joel’s face scrunch up like he was thinking about who she was talking about.

“I don’t know any girls named Morgan here,” Joel confessed, gazing over at Negan again wondering if it was one of the woman by the pool table. Each person that was there, Joel knew their names so he was rather flustered.

“Oh, so you know all the women in Jackson?” she replied in a teasing tone making Joel turn his head back toward her in a moment of surprise. “Should I be jealous?”

“I just make it my job to know the people I’m surrounded by,” Joel admitted with a simple shake of his head. “Being here I’ve yet to meet a Morgan so I’m just curious.”

“So I don’t have anything to be jealous about?” she pushed further making Joel’s face scrunch up in amusement before shaking his head. “Joel Miller doesn’t take out all the girls on dates then?”

“Come on,” Joel snorted with a roll of his eyes. “Should I be worried about Negan? You’re telling me that if he wasn’t taken, you would be here with him right now, aren’t you?”

“Did I say that? I think I said he was an attractive man that was taken,” she pointed out with a wink making Joel tip his head to the side while he eyed her over. “He’s not really the guy I’ve had my eye on for a while. There is someone else I’m very interested in.”

With the way his eyebrow arched, it showed that Joel was interested, but he had still been so focused on the rest of the group that when Negan started to head in over toward them, it made him groan out in frustration.

“Oh shit, now that he’s spotted you…he’s comin’ over,” Joel tried to hide his face to a degree and it amused Y/N to see that Joel was so antisocial in that moment.

Letting out a rumble of annoyance, Joel shifted again and sat forward in his seat when Negan headed over toward the table looking down at the two of them, “Hey you two! You care to join us for a game? Everyone’s surprised to see you here big guy.”

“Didn’t realize I made such an impact,” Joel scoffed making both Negan and Y/N glance at him since Joel often drew the most attention of anyone in Jackson with the way people looked to him with his past along with his knowledge of everything. “I’m not all that interested.”

“Fair enough,” Negan chuckled looking down to Y/N with a big smile. “You finally got that date, huh?”

“Excuse me?” Joel’s southern drawl made Negan’s eyebrow arch up in amusement.

“I may have talked to Negan about…things,” she felt her cheeks flush over making a snort fall from Negan before it turned into an amused rumble of laughter. It made Joel want to ask questions, but she was clearly embarrassed. What kinds of things did she talk about Negan with when it came to Joel? “A lot.”

“This one doesn’t hide shit from you, I fucking promise you that,” Negan reached out to place his hand in over Y/N’s shoulder to give it a firm squeeze. “I hope the two of you enjoy your night. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

There was an uncomfortable laugh that escaped Joel’s lips and he brushed his fingers through his hair when Negan backstepped away from the table, “Hey Negan. Where’s Morgan?”

“Fuck, you know about Morgan? You really do know everything, don’t you?” Negan seemed amazed that Joel seemed to know about the woman that Y/N had mentioned. “Wow…she’s with her friend’s family right now.”

“You didn’t want to bring her here?” Joel threw his hand about making Negan’s nose wrinkle and his thick eyebrows furrowed. “I just thought you would want to bring your girl with you on a night like this.”

“Do you bring Ellie to a place like this?” Negan stammered, his head bobbing about in almost a dramatic manner making a breath catch in Joel’s throat. What the hell kind of a question was that?

“Of course not,” Joel immediately shook his head making Negan’s dimples enhance as if he was entertained with what Joel was saying to him. “Ellie doesn’t belong in a place like this and she’s not…just no.”

“Then I think you would understand why I’m not bringing Morgan to a place like this,” Negan reasoned with Joel, shrugging his shoulders drastically before pointing back toward the pool table that was behind him. “But if you ever want man, you’re welcome to come over and meet Morgan. She’d probably be thrilled since there are so many fucking stories about you. You’re like a real-life comic book character to her.”

“What?” Joel seemed lost and they both went silent. There was awkward tension between all three of them before Joel cleared his throat. “No, yeah. I would like that. I’ll have to meet her at some point.”

“Well this isn’t fucking weird or anything, I’ll just…talk to you later Y/N,” Negan gave her a wink and headed back toward the pool table to the group that was waiting for him. Y/N seemed amused with the interaction, but it really just left Joel flustered.

“What were we talking about before he came over here?” Joel pulled himself from his thoughts finding Y/N’s eyes hooked on him and it made him let out a nervous laugh. “What?”

“I was telling you that I had my eye on someone else,” she recalled making Joel tap his hands against the table giving her a small nod.

“Oh yeah? Who?” Joel blurt out making her chuckle when she stared out across the table at him. Giving him a nod, Joel let out an embarrassed breath when he dropped his head down and grumbled something underneath his breath. “That was stupid.”

“I mean, I think it’s obvious who I like considering I asked you here tonight,” she reasoned with Joel seeing the embarrassed expression over his features when he slowly lowered his head to look up at her. “I did ask you out on this date.”

“I didn’t know if it was a date or just…a hang out thing with two friends,” Joel spoke up being honest with her about things. “Ellie insisted it was a date, but I didn’t want to assume things and make this whole thing uncomfortable.”

“Well then I will just put it all out on the table and make it known…” she began leaning across the table and he did the same so that he could hear her when she spoke up in a whisper. “I am extremely attracted to you Joel. I have been since the moment that you showed up in this town. I think you’re gorgeous. I like you very much, but most of all I love the way you interact with Ellie and take care of her. I feel like there is a lot to you that people don’t see and I want to get to know that man better. The one you hide from everyone.”

Joel was quiet, his dark eyes locked on hers with his eyebrows furrowed as she spoke, “Does that scare you away from the situation? Because if you aren’t interested, I’d really rather you tell me right now so I don’t get my hopes up.”

“No,” Joel shook his head, his lips parting while he tried to gather himself. “What I mean is, I find you very beautiful. I like you.”

“I like you too,” she felt her heart flutter hearing Joel call her beautiful. It made her happy to know that her feelings weren’t exactly one sided. Joel was quiet and unsure of himself, but it made him all the more appealing to her. “I tell you what? How about we get out of here and just take a walk. So the two of us could actually talk and get to know one another better.”

“Sure,” Joel stood up from the table without question and reached for his jacket. They were barely in that bar long enough to matter really. But when they were out Joel seemed relieved.

“So you’re not a fan of groups of people?” she confirmed with Joel who groaned out at the idea of it.

“I just have been kind of a loner most of my life. I’m not used to people putting their guards down so easily. After the things I’ve seen over the last twenty years of my life, I have to be on guard. It’s just hard not to be,” Joel confessed with a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s hard for me to pretend that life is normal here. Like there isn’t a shitload of awful people out there or infected. So yeah, I’m not big on groups and being…loud.”

“Understandably so,” she muttered just enjoying that they were standing closer to one another with her shoulder rubbing up against his. “Ellie is a bit…loud.”

“She’s the exception,” Joel snorted with a shake of his head. “But she also took a while for me to get used to as well.”

“What happened there?” she whispered seeing Joel think about it for a minute before he bit down on his bottom lip. “Too much?”

“She just means a lot to me. We took a journey together and…I just want to keep her safe,” Joel admitted to her knowing that he wanted to leave out certain details considering how special Ellie actually was to him. “I would just do anything to keep her safe.”

“I love that,” she explained with a smirk knowing that it surprised Joel. “Seeing a good father, or father figure in this case is just incredibly sexy to me.”

“Ah, so you have daddy issues,” Joel was so blunt, but a smirk tugged at his features showing that it was his attempt at joking with her and giving her a hard time. “I just, you have to have realized there is obviously an age gap between us.”

“I’m not that young,” she replied back in a rebuttal and it made Joel snort.

“And you’re not that old either. Once you get to my age and everything aches, you’ll understand what I’m saying,” Joel teased her with a shake of his head and a long sigh. “Your body is still fresh.”

“Oh?” her eyebrows bounced up and she saw the color flood into his cheeks again.

“You know what I mean,” Joel grumbled making her laugh. It entertained her that she could get Joel to blush. She wondered how many people had been able to do that lately.

“I’m sure your body is still fresh too,” she bit down on her bottom lip knowing that it was her attempt at flirting with him. “From what I can tell at least. You’re strong. It’s very appealing. I’d love to get to know your body more.”

“Wow, you’re…forward,” Joel coughed making her roll her eyes before shrugging her shoulders. “It’s not a bad thing. Just wow.”

“Dial it back, I got it,” she frowned making Joel scoff before shaking his head. “I just find you very attractive and I think you need to know that.”

“Okay then,” Joel responded with a nod, his eyes narrowing out at her when he pushed his hands into his pockets. “So you are more so looking for a booty call with an older man that is strong because that is your type.”

“You’re my type,” she corrected him making Joel laugh for the first time tonight.

“You avoided the booty call part,” Joel pointed out making her heart skip a beat and she didn’t answer him. “So you just want to get laid?”

“You’re the one talking about getting laid,” she responded feigning a sense of innocence to her. “I just really like you Joel and while I’m not turned off by the idea of sleeping with you, I don’t really want it to be a one-time thing. I like you.”

“Why?” Joel stammered and it made her laugh. “Seriously. There is nothing about me that I could see being appealing to people.”

“Are you ignoring everything I’ve already said to you tonight?” she huffed, turning to Joel and she stopped walking. Joel did the same and turned to face her. “I really like you, Joel. If you like me too, I’d love to see this be something more than just a booty call.”

“I’m not very good with relationships,” Joel confessed to her with an exaggerated sigh. “I have a hard time expressing my feelings because of…things.”

“Okay?” her eyebrow arched while he bobbed his head from side to side trying to think of what to say.

“I’ve only been in two really big relationships in my life. One was my wife that I got divorced from before this whole world went to shit. The other…” Joel thought back on Tess and he felt his chest ache. Life never really gave him the time to mourn the person he had been with over sixteen years. And even when he was with Tess, he never was very capable of being affectionate and intimate with her. “Let’s just say things didn’t end well. I’m not the most affectionate person in the world. Because of the loss and the things I’ve been through in my life, it makes it hard for me to get close to people. I put up these barriers and they are hard to take down darlin’.”

“I feel like if you had the right person in your life, you could break down those walls a little bit and you wouldn’t have to be so guarded,” she suggested and it made Joel tense up. There was a hopefulness in her expression that showed she desperately wanted to be that person. He didn’t know exactly how to tell her that the last person he had been with was a woman he cared greatly for over sixteen years. A woman who died believing that Joel never truly loved her. “We all have sad stories to go with our pasts Joel and I’m willing to work through things with you if we get to that point.”

“The thing is Y/N, I’m hard…” Joel was trying to think of a way to explain himself that wouldn’t let her down too hard and he saw her face scrunch up. Her eyes lowered and he let out a frustrated sound seeing that she was fucking with him again in the way that she took what he said. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“I’m sorry, it was the way you said it,” she giggled reaching out to poke at the center of his chest making Joel step back. “I get your warnings and I hear you, but I would still like to try to get to know you better and see where things go if you give me a chance.”

“Well at least you’re persistent,” Joel commented making her snicker before nodding. This was the first interest she had in someone in a very long time. Of course she wasn’t going to give up hope on this one. “I give you that.”

“Thank you,” she bit at her bottom lip and took in a long shallow breath. “I’m sure within time I could make you love me. I’m a very lovable person.”

“Uh…” Joel swallowed down the lump that was in his throat hearing that word. It was a word he had never even used during his time with Tess, but he wasn’t certain that he wanted to tell Y/N that. This was the first woman that had showed an interest in a long time toward him and he didn’t want to scare her off. “I don’t doubt that.”

Clearing his throat, he noticed that it was getting cold and it was pretty dark out, “While I enjoy walking, how about the two of us go back to my place for some coffee or something?”

“Coffee?” she repeated what he offered. “At night? You looking to stay up all night?”

“Well I don’t sleep much to begin with,” Joel informed her with a simple shrug of his shoulders. “Tea? A beer? I don’t care. Something.”

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” she agreed to head back over to his house with him finding herself excited at the idea of getting to be at his house with him. While they headed back toward his place, she found herself wondering something in that moment. “What about Ellie?”

“What about Ellie?” Joel repeated her words and shrugged. “Ellie has her own place in the garage in my backyard. I set up something nice for her there so she feels like she has her own space. Her own independence, but I still get to watch her.”

“Oh yeah?” Y/N noticed that the lights were on outside in the garage area as they passed down the street when she got a glimpse of his backyard. They walked up the steps to his home and up the stone walkway. “Do many people get to be in Joel Miller’s home?”

“Ellie, Tommy and Maria pretty much,” Joel answered her when he got the door open, holding his hand up for her to enter. “Now you.”

Entering his home, she took a look around as he closed up the door behind her after following her in. It smelled like him. And if you knew what Joel smelled like it was often a woody scent likely from all the woodwork that he did even in his spare time. People knew that he liked to carve things and also made guitars. Joel was starting to open up to people and was even trying to give people guitar lessons, but it was pretty rare. It was more so for the kids in the town.

His home was pretty bare, but she knew that Joel was a simple man. Joel took his jacket off and put it on the coat hanger before reaching for her coat to help her take it off. It still charmed her that he had that southern chivalry and kept it alive this long into the future. Many people lost that a long time ago and she found it charming.

“I’m going to make myself some coffee,” Joel announced nodding toward the kitchen area of his home. “You’re welcome to join me or I could make you some tea.”

“I can drink coffee,” she smirked following him over toward the kitchen noticing the way that he limped as he made his way to that part of his house. “I like your place, Joel.”

“You’ve barely seen it,” Joel muttered making her chuckle. “But thank you.”

Heading toward the corner of the kitchen where the cabinets met, she leaned back and braced herself while she watched Joel gather what he needed to make his coffee, “So since I was honest about my relationships, what about you?”

“You can ask me anything Joel and I’ll be completely honest with you. There isn’t much to say in terms of important relationships in my life. Nothing too serious,” Y/N answered Joel after he asked her about her personal life. “Like you pointed out, I was a bit younger than you when this world fell to shit so it didn’t leave a whole lot of time for relationships and getting close to someone. Being here in Jackson is the first time I’ve had any kind of sturdy moment in my life.”

“Touché,” Joel grumbled under his breath, turning to face her and he rest his back up against the island in the middle of his kitchen. There was a silence while he gazed over the lengths of her body. Everything she had said to him tonight replayed in his mind and he was trying to think of what he wanted to say to her. “So you want to date me?”

“Do you want to date me?” she tipped her head to the side watching Joel’s eyebrows tense and his jaw flexed while he looked her over. Having him ask her that was almost cruel. He knew how she felt about him. She made it very clear throughout their time together. So she wasn’t going to answer that until he gave her an answer himself.

“I’m still thinking about it,” he slurred making her eyes get big and she nodded. “What would make me want to date you?”

“Other than the glowing recommendation you gave me earlier?” she replied with a bit of an offended tone. “What’s not to like?”

“You’re arrogant,” Joel seemed to be finding fun in making her tense. “I don’t even know if you’re a good kisser at this point. How can I date someone if I don’t even know what they kiss like?”

“You’re questioning if I’m a good kisser or not?” she placed her hand over the center of her chest watching Joel shrug and seem so nonchalant about things. “What if you’re not a good kisser?”

“Oh, I’m a good kisser,” Joel responded with a grumble, curling his fingers around the edge of the countertop. “So if there is a problem with us kissing, I know it has to be you because I can kiss.”

“Now who is the arrogant one?” she stammered, boldly stepping forward making Joel’s dark eyes follow her movements. Stepping before Joel, she reached up to curl her fingers around the side of his neck to bring him down. Tipping up on her toes just enough, she pulled him forward to bring their lips together. With a hum, Joel kissed her back making it vibrate against her lips. The kiss lingered before she pulled back with a shuddering breath. The warmth of his breath over hers was drawing chills down her spine and Joel tipped his head back slightly. “Was that a bad kiss?”

“Too short to tell,” he growled, palming in over the side of her face with his thumb stroking over her cheekbone. Lowering in again, he watched her eyes flutter to a close before he captured her lips in another kiss. This one was stronger, the warmth of Joel’s lips caressing hers into a desperate surrender. When he pulled away, he sucked faintly at her bottom lip and hissed. “Well, we know that you like my kissing. I told you.”

With her lips glistening from the kiss, Joel found himself in awe with the way that Y/N was looking at him. He wasn’t sure if anyone ever looked at him like that. Not even Tess saw him in the way that Y/N did right now and he knew that. He wasn’t used to so much longing and hopefulness from someone. Especially when it came to him. It had been so long since he had felt the warmth of another person pressed against him. Being able to kiss someone again awoke something inside of him and he liked it, “but you don’t kiss too bad yourself. I’ll take it into consideration when thinking about whether or not I may want to date you.”

“You’re a cruel man, aren’t you Joel Miller?” she licked her lips making his face scrunch up while her hands settled in over the center of his chest. It kept her braced against him while it felt like the world was spinning around her.

“Very, haven’t you heard from the people in town?” Joel whispered against her lips, pressing faint kisses over her bottom lip. At this point there was no doubt in his mind that he had her eating out of the palm of his hand. Just the small amount of attention that he had given her had her breathing unevenly. Her pupils were dilated with lust and want for him. “I’m very harsh and hard to please.”

“I guess I will just have to work harder,” she bit at her bottom lip, her hands dragging down over the planes of his abdomen. When her fingers got to the button in his jeans, she plucked it open making Joel swallow down loudly. “As I aim to please.”

“Y/N,” Joel grumbled when she managed to get the zipper down in his jeans. Maybe this is where he should have stopped her. This was someone who really liked him. Yeah, he was hoping it would lead to something like this. It had been so long since he got to fool around with someone, so he kept his mouth shut when she looked to him with such desire.

Biting down onto his bottom lip, he closed his eyes when he felt her hand dipping beneath the material swiftly to palm in over his body. It made his eyelids get heavy and he tipped his head back to stare out at her while she caressed over him through the material of his boxers. With an arch of his eyebrow he watched her lower down to her knees before him. All it took was a tug to get his jeans to his ankles before she reached for the waistband of his boxers and took no time in getting those down his body as well. Looking up at Joel, she kept her eyes hooked on his when her fingers curled around his hardening cock. Soft strokes of her fingers over his body made him grasp tightly to the edge of the counter. When he was solid in her grasp, she straightened up on her knees before him and dragged her tongue out over the tip of his manhood making his knees buckle somewhat until he managed to gather himself. His eyes rolled back to a close when her lips surrounded his girth sucking faintly at his sensitive flesh. With her tongue lapping at his skin, Joel knew that it had been so long since someone actually took their time to pleasure him. It wasn’t something that he knew he needed, but now that he was actually having it, he knew that it had been too long.

With his eyes closed, everything felt so much more enhanced when Y/N took him further into the warmth of her mouth. Arching his hips forward, Joel growled and lowered his left hand to sink his fingers into her hair. Fluttering his eyes to an open, he watched her while she took her time to bob her head over the length of his erection and it made his heart hammer inside of his chest. Each pull back of her head had her tongue dragging along the underside of his shaft making his whole-body tense up. Curling his fingers tighter into her hair, Joel urged her further down his length making her eyes come to a tight close.

Thrusting his hips forward made a wet noise fall from her throat before he started to pull his hips backward before thrusting forward. They were uneven thrusts, but it felt so good having the warmth of her mouth surrounding him. Licking his lips, he found himself completely charmed with the way she was attempting to give him what he wanted. Tugging back on her hair, he heard the wet sound that filled the air when her lips pulled from his solid length and he used his other hand to drag his thumb out over her bottom lip. A muted groan fell from his throat with her kissing at the pad of his thumb.

“Get up,” Joel demanded of her, reaching out to pull her up toward him and it made her fall in against his chest. Reaching out to unplug the coffee machine, Joel could feel Y/N’s lips at the side of his neck while she worked open the buttons of his plaid shirt. Fumbling through his motions, Joel did his best to work her pants down her body hearing her whimpering against his kisses.

As soon as they managed to get the material from one of her legs, he was quick to curl his arms around her thighs to pick her up and press her back against the counter. Bracing her, Joel used his strength to keep her up when he reached between them to push her panties aside. Grabbing a hold of his straining cock, he teased the swollen tip through her sensitive folds before lining his body up with her entrance. With a roll of his hips, he heard her crying out and sinking her fingers into his thick, gray hair. Joel buried his nose against the side of her neck cherishing the warmth of her body enveloping his. Sinking further into her, Joel heard her purr out and he did his best to steady himself. The sensation of her surrounding him was something he didn’t know that he needed, but it was an addictive feeling and he wanted more of it.

When he felt like she was prepared enough, he started to buck his hips up toward her again and again. With him filling her, she was crying out and it fueled him to know that she appeared to like what they were doing. Doing his best to keep a hold of her, Joel took his time leaving kisses over her jawline and neck knowing that she was a shuddering mess before him.

“Joel,” she cried out his name and it made Joel’s eyes close tightly, his lips parting with their uneven movements together. His hips smacked up against hers while he thrust into her time and time again. Her fingers tugged at his graying hair while her other hand clawed at his shoulder making Joel hiss out against her lips. “Please…”

Joel wasn’t exactly the most verbal lover, but the occasional moan that he released drew chills up and down her spine. This wasn’t exactly where she thought their first date would go, but she wasn’t complaining. In fact, this was the ultimate dream come true for her. The strength of Joel’s thrusts led her to cling to him tightly and a few of the items on top of his counter fell over making Joel huff. Lowering her down, Joel felt her fingers pushing up underneath the material of his unbuttoned shirt to let it drop down his arms while she caressed over the strength of his bicep. Joel’s lips hovered over hers. Their breath was warm against each other’s and he could feel her hips still rocking toward him wanting that friction that he had put a halt too.

Dropping the material of his shirt on the ground, Joel wasn’t gentle or slow about the way he got the rest of her clothes off before forcing her to face the island. With a gasp, her hands grasped the edges of the counter while she tried to steady herself with Joel moving her where he needed her. His right hand urged her hips where he needed them while his left curled around her body to palm up the lengths of her abdomen before squeezing at her full breast.

Wrapping his fingers around his throbbing length, he led the tip to her ready entrance and pushed forward sinking into her almost completely before pulling out. It made her whine before he repeated the motion several times. Having her shaking before him while laid out across the counter made him chuckle.

“You’d never make it out there with how loud you are,” Joel informed her, lowering down enough to place a wet kiss between her shoulder blades. Following the movement of her spine, he kissed down her back before snapping his hips forward once more to bring them together again allowing all of him to sink into her. “We’d be dead with the way you’re reacting.”

“We’re not out there, we’re here,” she licked her lips, cooing out with the feeling of him inside of her. “You feel so big inside of me. Why don’t you lighten up and use that cock of yours to make me cry. I bet your proud of the sounds you’re making come out of me.”

“I’d almost be offended if you weren’t making them,” Joel quipped nipping at her shoulder. Squeezing his arm around her waist had his bicep flexing while he brought her back against him with every thrust forward he made inside of her.

With her warmth surrounding him and contracting around his thick length, he found himself getting lost in the moment. Each movement was fueled on what felt good in that moment and he was craving every second of it. His breathing got louder, but he wasn’t exactly giving in to being verbal with her. With a firm smack forward of his hips, he had her crawling forward, but his hips followed her movements. Hooking his fingers into her hair, he kept her where she was and gazed down at him inside of her. Her arousal was coating his body and it made him lick his lips. The fact he had held off this long on getting intimate with someone even surprised him. Another whine fell from her lips with him leaving himself stagnant inside of her.

Pressing his chest up against her back, he reached to hook his fingers with hers. Squeezing them firmly, he took his time rolling his hips behind her. With each soft smack of his skin against hers, his thrusts became somewhat quicker and just a bit harder. In no time, he had her crying out his name with her fingers hooking tighter to his while he pounded into her from behind. It was obvious that Joel was a very physical person. The way he had sex showed that.

“Almost there,” he coached her with his teeth nibbling at her earlobe with him making sure to be closer to her. The wet smacking sounds filled the kitchen and he hoped that he wasn’t being so loud with Y/N that it would draw Ellie’s attention from his backyard.

“Joel,” she whimpered, her eyes slamming shut when she pushed up on her toes but he didn’t allow her to pull away from him when she orgasmed. Joel longed to feel that sweet, intoxicating sensation of her body contracting around his while she shook. The noises she made had him smiling, but there was still that longing he had to come. It had been so long since he had a release and now that he was on the edge of building himself up to it, he was desperate to get it. “Please…please let me see you.”

“Uh…” Joel lifted his head to look around the kitchen before finally pulling back and away. When his solid length pulled from her warmth, he watched her shudder while taking a minute laid out across the counter to try to calm her breathing. Grabbing a chair, Joel pulled it out from the table and lowered down onto it. Stretching out his legs, he tapped his thigh and motioned her to come to him. “I’m all ready for you.”

Pushing herself up onto her feet, it felt like her legs were Jell-O with the high that Joel had given her body by absolutely having his way with her. Taking a moment to stare out at his body while he was stretched out in the wooden chair, she couldn’t help but have her throat go dry looking at him, “This is the moment where I wish I was an artist of some kind. You are perfection.”

“Stop,” Joel snorted, looking down at his body. The prominent thing that stood out to him was the scar that was left from his injury over his lower abdomen. Letting out a shuddering breath, Joel felt Y/N bracing herself over him while her hands grabbed at the back of the chair. Biting into his bottom lip, Joel tipped his head to the side and cleared his throat. “You’re the beautiful one.”

“I think everything about you is amazing,” she took her time, resting her weight against Joel’s thighs while she got comfortable over him and just started caressing over his body. It made a lump develop in his throat at how delicate she was and how attentive she was to every part of him. Sliding her hands down over his broad shoulders, she took her time to appreciate the flesh before palming down over his chest and toward his lower abdomen. When her fingertips touched at the puckered healing flesh over his body, it made him uncomfortable and she could see that he was uneasy about it. “It shows how strong you are. Don’t be ashamed of your scars. It shows the world how hard you fought to stay here. You’re the strongest man I know Joel.”

“Yeah?” Joel felt vulnerable in that moment. His Adam’s apple bounced in his throat and his chocolate brown eyes were hooked on hers. With a nod, she pressed in to hover her lips over his making Joel lick his lips. There was a want to be kissed. This whole time he had been arrogant. Wanting a certain thing from her and that was pleasure. Something he had been lacking for so very long, but with her touching him and saying the things that she was he found himself in awe of the woman over him. “I’m deeply flawed Y/N.”

“I can help fix you,” she hushed him, leaning forward to meet his lips in a longing kiss that took her breath away. For so long she had been swooning over Joel and the fact she was sharing such an intimate moment with him made her feel special.

“There is no fixing me, I was broken a very long time ago,” he grunted against her lips when he felt her reaching between them. Taking her time, she lowered and led him back toward her entrance and allowed herself to get used to him inside of her again with that beautiful stretching feeling. Wincing, Joel tipped his head back, his hands caressing all over her body. With a cry, she bit down at her bottom lip and tipped her head back. Her fingers braced over his abdomen while she was meticulous in the way she bounced her hips over his. Having her like this made things more intimate. It brought them closer together and maybe when he brought her back here, he did think that it would just be a booty call but having her in this way made his view change of her. It was clear she had a way bigger crush on him than he did her, but he had always found her beautiful. There was just that whole problem of getting intimate with others. After everything that he lost, Joel never wanted to get close to people and it took a lot. Even his relationship with Ellie was hard, but he was doing the best he could to open himself up. With a grunt, his fingers squeezed at her hip and he was sure it would have likely left a mark. “I am what I am.”

“You have to be willing to let others in,” she reached for Joel’s hands, lifting them up to press them back against the top of the chair. Tipping forward, her lips hovered over his and Joel’s chocolate-colored eyes were focused on hers. Her movements had become steady. When she found something that Joel visibly liked she kept at it. So desperately she wanted him to break down the walls that he was holding to enjoy himself, but he stayed quiet. An occasional faint moan fell from his lips which she considered a small victory for herself. What really was her reward in all of this was the way his eyes stayed locked with hers with the muscle in his jaw flexing. It was the most connected she had been with him all night. With a faint rumble, Joel’s eyes rolled back to a close with his head resting back against the chair. The way she was riding him was obviously something he was enjoying and she brought their lips together. “Let go Joel…”

A shuddering exhale escaped his lips, his brow line creasing when she felt him throbbing inside of her. His hips bucked up toward her to chase that release and she mewled out into his mouth feeling the warmth of his release inside of her. Their fingers were hooked together when she lowered them back down. Joel’s eyes lazily opened and he started kissing down over her jawline and toward her neck.

“Was that okay for you?” she searched for any kind of praise from Joel, wincing when he nipped at her flesh. It was almost like he was marking her as his own and she liked it. Joel’s rough palms were caressing up and over her back toward her shoulders and back down again where Joel grasped her ass firmly.

“More than,” Joel answered her, enjoying the way that she touched him and caressed over his scalp. “Thank you, I needed that. Very much.”

That night she didn’t leave his home. They spent the rest of it together just drinking coffee and talking. By morning when she had to go to work, she didn’t want to leave him. Joel wasn’t someone who talked much exactly and it took a lot to get it out of him, but she did her best. Thing was, she wanted to be with him all the time when they were free. And he didn’t exactly turn her down.

Not long after their first night together Joel realized that they were spending a lot of their free time together so he asked her to move in with him. It made more sense being together than having her house just sitting there. It freed it up for another family in the future to take and it was nice to have someone else to share his home with. Things weren’t as quiet anymore and that was a good thing. It was everything she could have wanted in getting closer to Joel.

A year had passed with them living together and while Y/N was happy, Joel had been very upfront and honest with her from the start. Since that day they got together, he never called her his girlfriend. He never told her that he loved her. There was a severe lack of affection, one that she thought she could fix, but she wasn’t sure that Joel was capable. After a year of trying she realized that it was likely never going to come.

They shared a house together and bed, but even now as they were lying in bed together Joel was at the opposite end of the bed turned in the direction away from her. Gazing back over her shoulder, Y/N longed to have Joel hold her. There was a desperation to be cuddled. Joel’s arms and chest were so nice, but he was so cold to anything like that. So many times she had told him she loved him, but he would often blow it off with a grunt. He hated using those words and often told her that it was rushing things. At the beginning of this relationship, she was hopeful. It had been a year, why would she be rushing things with love? They were living together. They shared their life together. It felt real to her.

At this point, it just felt like they were roommates. Two people that were together so they weren’t alone. They would just go about their day, come home and maybe talk about it before going to bed again. They were two people that occasionally had sex that honestly lacked intimacy in so many ways. Regardless of how many times Joel turned her down with affection, it didn’t stop her from trying. She was determined that one day she would be able to get Joel to change for her. She wanted to believe that. She had to believe that.

Looking over her shoulder again, she could see that Joel was shaking in his sleep. He was having a nightmare and she let out a long sigh. Turning over, she scoot toward his side of the bed and wrapped her arms around him. It calmed his body having her comfort him like that. Nuzzling her nose at the bottom of his neck, she felt him opening up to the idea of her holding onto him. Hooking her fingers with his, she stroked her thumb over the back of his hand feeling Joel squeezing her hand in his.

Joel’s breathing changed showing that he had waken up and she pressed a loving kiss against his cheek, “I love you, so much.”

Joel said nothing, just scoot back in closer to her to have her hold him tighter in her grasps. She assumed that he was trying to pretend that he was still sleeping, but she knew his breathing. After a year you got to learn the person you shared a home and a bed with. There was a longing in her heart that hurt. In her eyes, Joel was perfect. He was everything to her, but she wished that some nights he would do this with her. Hold her in his arms and whisper sweet nothings to her.

All of Jackson knew that they were living together. It wasn’t like there was a person that didn’t know they were with one another. But Joel still had a whole lot of issues showing that intimacy. Hand holding in public wasn’t for him. Kissing seemed to embarrass him around others. So everything was behind closed doors. Y/N was in love, Joel was comfortable. There was a huge difference in the way they acted toward one another. She thought they were in a relationship, but by the way Joel acted she wondered if he just thought they were really close friends with benefits.

In time, Joel’s breathing went back to what it was when he was asleep and she felt her throat tightening. Just once she wanted to hear him say that he loved her. That he cared about her. That life wouldn’t be the same without her. Yet, she got none of those things. He told her that he liked her. That he enjoyed her company. That life was no longer boring or lonely because of her, but honestly? She was extremely lonely and it was the worst feeling in the world. To love someone so much and feel like they didn’t feel the same was soul crushing. But she forced her emotions down. She loved Joel so much that she couldn’t picture not having him in her life.

She lived for moments like these. At least Joel let her comfort and console him. Getting to touch him was the greatest gift that she could have, but she didn’t know what to do anymore to try to get Joel to be affectionate with her. She was becoming touch starved. She wanted that emotional connection with Joel, but he wasn’t giving in. She was surprised that he okayed her moving in with him in the first place because he really liked having his own space. Sometimes she thought he did it just to appease her. To give her something since she so desperately wanted to feel anything more from him.

Joel had opened up to her about Sarah and vaguely talked about Tess. It was Tommy that had really kept her in the loop with things. And it was because of Tommy that she never gave up on Joel. Tommy promised her time and time again that Joel cared for her. That it would just take time. That Joel needed someone not to give up on him and damnit, she was trying. Harder than she had ever tried before in any relationship.

The best moments they shared together were those that were spent with Ellie. Ellie got Joel to relax, to the best of his ability really. It was amazing what that kid could do to change Joel around. When they were all together, it was the only time they really felt like a family. There were hopes that if Ellie found a way to love Y/N that Joel would soon too. It was just taking longer than expected. Y/N never wasted a minute with Joel in letting him know how she felt about him. And she hoped that in time, he would learn to feel the same way about her as she did him.

Tags: @slutlanna976 @fuckthis-and-fuckthat @jennydehavilland @de-gabyconamor @ibelongtonegan @smallsadjellyfish @labyrinthofheartagrams @msjamesmarch @thebeautysurrounds @hotfornegan @redmercysugar @caprithebunny @tuttifuckinfruitty @emoryhemsworth @a-girl-interupted @akumune @stoneyggirl2 @xsarcasticwriterx @insertneganhere @haleygreen23 @xhannahbananax03 @sanctuaryforthelost @burningredaffair @killaweiser @dead-of-niight @ayumi-wolf @hollyismentallyillhelp @nt-multi-fandom @tone-stark @chloepricerk800

#Jeffrey Dean Morgan #Pedro Pascal #Joel Miller #Negan #The Last of Us #The Walking Dead #Joel Miller fanfiction #Negan fanfiction #Joel Miller x reader #Negan x reader #twd fanfiction #tlou fanfiction

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jooniperbonsai · 2 months

Text

Thanks For the Sub (ksj) | Chapter Two

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

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 13.7k

Release date: Mon. February 5, 2024

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

Summary: Now aware of Seokjin's secret, you try to take some of his...techniques into your next stream. But how well will they pay off?

Chapter Warnings: anxiety, discussion of boundaries and triggers, Seokjin explains what bdsm is supposed to mean to us watching at home, internet/cyberbullying dynamics, boss/employee power struggles, discussions of consent, peer pressure, mention of threesome, implied chubby/fat reader (it's vague enough to not adopt a specific size), mention of sex toys, swearing, sexual fantasies, m masturbation, damn Seokjin has a boner so many times in this sorry, size kink, y/n assumes Seokjin's sexuality, porn simulation games, 1 (one) reference to Vine (RIP), Dom Seokjin, kink negotiation, mention of choking and improper bdsm practices, mention of urethral sounding (but not actually happening)

a/n: Ahh hello! First of all, thank you to everyone who has read TFTS so far! It really warms my heart knowing how well received it's been, and your comments and messaged have meant so much. I really wanted to emphasize discussions of consent and boundaries in this chapter. I was struggling to write for a little bit, and then suddenly I saw this one gif of Jin on my feed and my brain jimmy neutron brain blasted my way to a 13k length chapter. Hopefully I've proofread well enough, but if you spot some serious errors please let me know. -h

On Saturday afternoon, Seokjin woke up for the first time in what felt like forever feeling rested. After checking the weather app on his phone constantly throughout the night, he received the alert that heavy snowfall was causing delays in plowing and public transit. He messaged the opening crew, encouraging them to also enjoy the lie-in and prepare for a delayed open. Instead of falling into the semi-sickening lovefest of couples peeling each other’s perilla leaves or trying to feed each other lunch, he could be spared until the evening.

Which was good, because Seokjin was exhausted. His live last night was not planned, but after closing and apologizing to you about his gross mismanagement of power, he needed to get out the pent-up frustration that crumbled the bones in his body from pressure.

Sure, it was the right thing to do to apologize, even though he knew he would never be able to look at that prep counter, your wide, glassy eyes, and swollen lips the same way again. But it was important to him. He could never become the kind of man he watched his boss be to him or his wife, forcing his way past someone’s boundaries to get what they wanted.

Even years later, Seokjin was convinced that had he not shared information about Soon Yi that intrigued his boss, if he’d maybe kept his personal and professional lives separate, things maybe would have been different. And now that he was in the position of power where he was someone else’s boss, wasn’t it his duty to make sure that didn’t happen to you too?

Seokjin almost lost all his control with you yesterday. From the moment you came in with a tired, croaky voice that greeted him “hi” before the sun had even come up, he knew he would be struggling for the rest of the day.

During multiple points of your training, he had the urge to touch you, which was nearly impossible not to do, since so much of the guidance you needed came from hand-over-hand instruction as he showed you the fluid motions of safe chopping. When his large hands covered yours, Seokjin became aware of how tiny you were to him. Maybe not in all the places, but your height, your smaller hands, they showed him how easily and perfectly you slotted into his body, like a puzzle piece he didn’t know he could ever feel matched to.

Maybe Seokjin executed this desire to touch you a little too dramatically. When he saw your misplaced cutting knife, he let that excuse lead him head-first into white hot desire, scolding you, watching you squirm a little as you felt embarrassed for losing focus. And that seemed to unlock some feral need in him, to get you to squirm a little more, to touch you and feel the velveteen softness of your forearms as he pinned you against the prep table.

The little gasp you’d let out sent the blood straight to his cock, and to avoid you seeing how easy and embarrassingly you could undo him–how quickly one singular sound from you would make Seokjin rock hard and panting and under your complete power–he reacted, clasped your wrists, used some set of excuses to get closer, let his arm skim across your cheek to grab a packet of whatever the hell was above you. And the way you didn’t resist, didn’t pull away from his grasp showed him how good you could be, how obedient you were as you turned around when told.

He should’ve stopped there, but you were standing in front of him, smelling a little bit like coffee and a fruity shampoo you used, your bodies only mere inches from full on contact. And Seokjin wanted more of a reason to hold onto you, to see what ways he could rile you up, whether you were cognizant or not of how, well, submissive you were to him.

Most of his income from streams came from scenarios where Seokjin played into a softer role, which translated into the role of a submissive pretty boy, and usually a bottom. But for the first time in years, a rich, satisfying wave of dominance rolled back into his body and he welcomed it.

Seokjin knew better, but he couldn’t help himself. The one bit of control he maintained was in his refusal to let go of your hands, even after you had mastered the motions of your knife, possibly even better than Seokjin himself could chop. Because if Seokjin declawed himself from you, his hands would absolutely wander. Up the sleeve of your exposed forearms and down the swell of your breasts and full hips.

His cock ached thinking about how plush and soft your body would be under his hands, how he wouldn’t have to worry about breaking you. He could safely grope your sides and not feel like he would pinch your bones together, and that was important, because Seokjin liked to be rough.

When that carrot fell, you couldn’t shake Seokjin’s desperate hands off yours and you carried him with you as you curved your body toward the floor to pick up your mess. Seokjin was blessed and cursed with the brief moment he got to touch more of you than he ever had as your ass rocked back and ground gently into him.

He’d moaned, though he tried to disguise it as a grunt or scoff, but the way your delicious ass attracted him right in between the line of your cheeks practically begged him to rut against you.

Your reaction of shock, though, halted him as he remembered you two were in the kitchen of his family’s restaurant. He scrambled to cover his dick before it became even more obvious and humiliating.

And then you fell, because Seokjin was an idiot and forgot he had been holding onto you.

The sound of your head crashing into the metal ricocheted through his ears, and your pained moan sent him spiraling in panic. He didn’t think. Seokjin wasn’t the best at remaining calm during potential medical emergencies, instead of electing to assess your wellbeing and check-in with you, he just reacted, plucking you off the floor and onto the counter.

You can’t manage a restaurant without carrying heavy sacks of rice or flour, cartons of vegetables or gallons of oils and liquids into the space. That, plus the fact that Seokjin did go to the gym to keep his figure, ensured that when he had to pull you up from the floor, he could do so with ease. Which thanks to his awful, overly enthusiastic libido, was really locking in some potential size kink. If Seokjin could hoist you onto the cold prep counter without breaking a sweat, it meant he could also hoist you onto other things, like his cock. Could bounce you up and down and see how those delicious, large tits would follow his pace.

Fuck.

This was when Seokjin realized even though he was deeply, deeply interested in these fantasies, his reality was different. Because too easily he had dipped into some innate submissive part of you and decided to play with it and tease you for it. Too easily, he has erased any boundary between professional and personal, and now you are walking around with a giant bruise on your forehead. He used his power to manipulate you, didn’t he? While the tiniest part of him argued back, suggesting it was purely mutual attraction and biology, that he shouldn’t apologize because he swore he saw something in your eyes that almost guaranteed you wanted him too, this is why Seokjin had to apologize. The “almost” of it all. He wasn’t sure, which meant the uncertainty was a risk and just because he wanted something to be true didn’t mean it was.

By the end of the day, the intense proximity to you and the memory of your lips parting to suck his tongue into your mouth had become too much. Seokjin turned on an impromptu stream to wallow in his self pity and direct that dominant energy into something that was far less harmful and at least lucrative.

Now, as the winter’s dull afternoon light glowed through the city, Seokjin checked his phone, seeing that the evening crew leader had arrived and informed him that everything was covered and they wouldn’t need the extra help.

With that update, Seokjin’s entire evening just became available, which was a rare thing for him since he moved up in his job role. But because of this, he was unsure what to do to pass the time. He cooked himself dinner, cleaned, and organized the jars in his refrigerator, needing to keep his hands busy to distract himself from thinking about you.

His apartment looking immaculate and there no longer being anything else to clean, he finally fired up his computer to play games. Maybe this would serve as a proper distraction. His new PC was set to come early next week after being delayed by the snow. Despite Seokjin’s financial success since his start as a streamer, money to him was still something he wasn’t sure what to do with.

After Worldwide Handsome took their cut from last night’s fifteen grand in earnings, he would be walking away with about ten thousand dollars. He would, albeit quietly, pour around seven thousand of those dollars into the restaurant, where the mom-and-pop feel of the small shop was starting to show its age.

Last week, he’d called a repairman to give him a quote about fixing a broken coil on one of the griddles. After a quick inspection, he was informed most of the unit was corroding, and it was time to seriously consider a replacement. Between that, the new register he ordered, and the walk-in freezer that was coughing its last breath, probably as we speak, Seokjin spent nearly forty grand in the last month with repairs and replacements to keep the shop running another day.

His parents had insisted they’d pay for the expenses, but after the first few discoveries he’d made of the DIY wiring his father had tried in earnest to configure, Seokjin stopped alerting them to the updates he was making, hoping that distance, age, and some fairly similar looking appliances would allow for these changes to go undetected when they returned. He had seen what this place made. He’d seen his paycheck. There was no way in hell his father could afford an $18 to 25,000 walk-in freezer on their operating budget.

Overall, Seokjin made plenty of money with streaming, but beyond some investments and his nice apartment, as well as a savings account to ensure he wasn’t completely destitute, he lived much below his means. When he hit goals during his streaming, it did really feel like he was winning big. To buy himself a new PC was something he knew he worked for.

Just as he was browsing the new skins in the game store, he heard the familiar chime and his heartrate picked up.

You were live.

He hesitated. “No,” he said out loud to himself, his voice croaking after hours of not speaking. “Don’t even think about it.”

He knew if he looked at you right now, all the distractions, the cleaning, the dedication to keeping himself busy, would be for nothing. It would be painful to look at you–probably all cozy with your hair pulled messily away from your face, your glasses hanging off your nose instead of your usual contacts–and not think about how merely hours ago he had your heat rubbed up against him.

If he really wanted to torture himself, he would also think about how the casual, disheveled look you sported could have been something he woke up to this morning if he’d tried a little harder, the loose t-shirt you probably wore rising up while you slept next to him, exposing the soft tummy he knew hid under it. Maybe even one of your nipples would slip out, hard from the chill of the cold winter air bleeding into his apartment.

But Seokjin wouldn’t torture himself. He knew better. When he exited his game, he definitely didn’t launch his web browser and go to your channel that was on his Favorites tab. And he definitely didn’t cup himself through his sweats as he watched you appear before him.

If the idea of you in casual wear could make him this hard, the view of you now, as you sat on stream with a tight, low-cut top that showed the curve of your breasts and their delicious, lickable valley between them, could easily turn every part of him into stone. You did your makeup today. Let your hair delicately frame your face. You looked like you were logging on to lure your viewers to come to you like a siren. Seokjin wanted you to devour him.

His cock twitched and he groaned. He was such a pervert. But whoever this Y/N was, she looked like she was ready to play some games, and not the kind that Seokjin was used to seeing on stream.

“Well, hello,” you purred. Was this really happening? Who the fuck had possessed the wide-eyed, awkward gamer he was used to watching?

“I thought, given that it’s so close to Valentine's Day, and because I missed the stream last night, I would make it up to you.”

Seokjin froze. How had he not known you were supposed to stream yesterday? He would’ve never let you stay so late. He shot you an apologetic text,and when he looked up from his phone, he saw some of the comments flooding into your feed:

Mingisaysrelax: Um…am I on the right website? 😏💦

MountainSan88:😳

PizzaBoy97: You look really pretty 😍

MizzVyne: Is this allowed? IS THIS ALLOWED?

Seokjin watched as your chat exploded in response to your new look, clips being taken by the hundreds when you leaned down to adjust your seat and the tops of your breasts jiggled. Your mods seemed to be on top of things though, because as soon as he saw raunchy or hateful comments, they were swiftly being taken down.

“I’m not going to read my comment section right now, but I assume you’re all a little shocked by my appearance. I don’t know, I was feeling a bit inspired by another streamer I watched last night when I got home from work. He had some really good ideas on um…stuff, and no I’m not going to share who he is because some of you will absolutely cyber bully him for being associated with me and he deserves better than that.”

He. A pang of bitterness surged through Seokjin. It was laughable, really, how he was jealous because you were watching other male streamers when you got home from work, completely oblivious to how on another site he was jerking his aching cock to his viewers thanks to how worked up you made him.

“But yeah, I’m going to switch up the stream in the second half, if you want to stick around and see.”

This really piqued his interest, pressing his palm down onto his erection to try and relieve some of the pressure.

You frowned at your screen as you launched your game, some first person shooter that would hold your attention so you wouldn’t have to talk.

You opened your mouth to add something, but you were immediately dropped into your game, setting your jaw as you focused on the controls in front of you, occasionally panicking, key smashing so loud that it drowned out your squeals when you were knocked over and over again and needed a revive.

Seokjin assumed whatever teammate who kept reviving you must’ve been a subscriber who was stream sniping…or reverse stream sniping? Stream assisting and reviving as you struggled your way through the game.

Something really stuck with him as you played. Whoever this “mentor” was must have been well versed in the knowledge that on any streaming platform, sex sells, especially for women. Your new look was drawing in quite the crowd. He wasn’t sure he’d seen you have this many subs, points, or viewers while streaming before. It was like a switch flipped.

He felt a tiny flutter of something like pride swell into his chest. You were becoming more confident every day he knew you, from your knife skills to school teaching to now streaming.

“Oh shittttttt,” you groaned into your mic, ripping Seokjin away from his soft reverie and back into full on, desperate wanting. Maybe you were toeing the community guidelines with this stream, but that groan sounded almost pornographic coming out of your mouth, and any chance Seokjin had at trying to be respectful was long gone.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh you’re being a bad girl tonight I see,” he chuckled to himself.

Almost as if you heard him, you giggled back, biting your lip playfully. Fuck, what were you doing to him? Your chat seemed to be in a similar standing.

As a result, One of the mods pinned an announcement to the top:

W0nW00: To maintain community guidelines and compliance, we are labeling this channel as 18+. We ask that you be respectful to Y/N and her moderators as we continue with this stream. If your account is set to under 18, you will be redirected in 2 minutes.

Shit, all for a simple moan?

You paused the game. “I’m going to go for a bio break. Be right back.” You set your break screen, and instead of the usual, cutesy graphic of a cherry blossom tree blowing in the wind that said “Spring Day Streams”, it was now a neon, vaporwave cityscape and said “Join Us For Spring Night Streams, An After Dark Experience”.

Seokjin’s eyes wide, he finally released his cock from his sweats, and took himself in his hand. Oh, this was going to be good.

Seokjin is a camboy.

That’s the only thought splitting through the headache you’ve had all morning. Is there such a thing as an orgasm hangover? Because if so, you’ve got one. If not, maybe you were concussed in the kitchen yesterday.

You’ve spent most of the day trying to clean up the mess of your apartment and frankly, your mental state. Seokjin spends his Friday nights Daddy domming his humble pool of viewers and making thousands of dollars doing so. To even think that sentence feels insane.

And humiliating. Because attached to that sentence is the realization that Seokjin’s major success as a gay camboy means that he is absolutely not thinking about you the way you are of him, and the kiss you imposed on him at work was definitely not consensual after all, which when you think about it, is obvious based on how frantically he apologized and assigned himself at fault for what happened. He was trying in the most polite way to reject you.

You’re an idiot. And despite all of it, the shame of your action isn’t what’s delivering the heavy punch; it’s the fact that your crush didn’t die the second you found out last night. If anything, you’ve been silently wallowing in your sadness since you woke up, your stupid heart not processing that there’s one significant reason for why you can’t have him.

You try to trudge through the fog of it all, placing your newly cleaned toys back into their proper dust cases and compartments before returning them to the drawer next to your side table. You switch loads of laundry and drop the warm pile on your bed, grimacing at the idea of having to fold it all.

You shouldn’t be disappointed. This is a stupid crush that was never meant to go this far. Not to this place where you aren’t just humiliated, but the loneliness that you often avoid feeling has been spilling through the cracks of your life all day.

The laundry is the only thing that occupies one side of your bed. Never another body, his warmth, his weight existing as another living thing keeping your living thing company as you fold laundry or wash dishes.

No, you shouldn’t have projected this crush or obsession or whatever you want to call it onto Seokjin, but in these months of conversation and blooming friendship, you’ve found your mind beginning to wander into the fantasy of not just sex, but safety and connection. He’s a man who has always treated you with the utmost respect, even now in how he has maintained a boundary that gently rejects you, even if it’s confusing.

Before his promotion at the restaurant, there was collaboration that fostered your trust in him; your bodies started working around each other like dancers, fusing your movements with a natural flow. You’d seen some of that pop up throughout the day yesterday, which you couldn’t help but feel like delivered a bit of hope in your stomach.

You know it’s useless to continue hoping that something will change. Maybe he’s bi, you’ve thought a few times since you went to bed. He did call everyone a good girl. But, don’t some guys call each other girls as some kind of kink? But even hoping for that still feels wrong in your gut. Instead of wishing he just so happens to like pussy, you should be redirecting yourself from the fact that it doesn’t even matter. He said so himself, he’s your boss.

“Ugh,” you groan into your unfolded laundry. Why can’t anything ever be easy?

You shove the clothing pile to one side of your bed as you lie down, staring up at the ceiling, your eyes following the soft pattern of cracks that have begun to appear through the paint. You already know that going back to work on Monday will be awful, not just because this crush won’t crush itself, but because you clearly now know more about Seokjin than he perhaps ever wanted you to know. Won’t it be awkward trying to talk to him? And if he asks why you’re being so weird, what will you even say?

Sorry Seokjin, I’m not sure how to talk to you anymore because I spent Friday cumming while watching you on your gay cam show as you stroked your huge dick and admittedly once I saw your face connected to your dick I had the best orgasm of my life that rendered me useless the next day.

Perfect. This won’t be absolute hell at all.

Your stream alarm rings on your phone. You sigh. That’s right. You promised a makeup stream to your followers.

How did Seokjin stream so confidently? Last night, the way he just exuded dominance and control, how he managed to get so much money from sitting there and making his chat do the work? It’s not only impressive but also inspiring. If you were able to have that distance from your chat, maybe things would be a bit easier, and the questions that were so personal and directed would fade into the background while ones of adoration and impersonal fantasies could take their place.

And the money, god. If you had money like that, you wouldn’t have a stack of financial aid forms sitting on your dresser right now waiting for you to basically jump through hoops to ask nicely for a loan.

The way he was able to be so different and make money off of it? That feels promising to you too. Because whoever Daddy Dom Seokjin is, he isn’t just walking around in the world being “on” all the time. You know him as someone whose ears flush with embarrassment the second one of the delivery guys tells him he made an error with the order and tries to diffuse the tension with some free snacks; who often hums game scores and whose laugh sounds like a squeaky windshield wiper swiping across dried glass.

What if you could be more like that?

Not Daddy Dom or Mommy Y/N, but more casual and detached? You could stop reading your chat and answering questions. Or if you did want to play into some of Seokjin’s sex appeal, you could dress slightly more suggestively or do your hair and makeup to exploit the male gaze’s money a bit, just like how Seokjin did.

In this world of streaming, where everything feels like fractured versions of reality, parts of you being split among the pixels and delivered and digested into someone else’s home for their entertainment and pleasure, it’s hard for you to ever feel like you can have some close community with your followers. Not like Wonwoo does with his. Because of your start and how people perceive you now, there just doesn’t seem to be a way for you to have intimacy. Even if you tried, your chat flies by so quickly now that unless it’s a notification from a mod, any usernames and personal anecdotes are lost before you can even know who’s who.

You think about it for a bit. It can’t hurt to try, right? It’s not like you being a little less reserved would automatically launch you into a career in porn. And if it will help bring a little more income in, lessen the blow a tiny bit, you can’t really see why it would make sense to keep doing things this way when you are this miserable by the idea of it.

Spring Day Streams holds a standard image that is pink and soft, and you know some people love watching you because you’re hitting some fantasy they have. The woman who looks like an angel but swears like a sailor and as stereotypes often assume, fucks like a demon.

What could “fuck like a demon” look like on an often all ages game streaming platform, though? Well, not all ages. Some streams are only accessible to registered users over the age of 18. Usually the age filter is there because the game is super graphic, or the streamer is a sex educator or swears so much the algorithm has started penalizing them. A few times though, you’ve seen some streamers playing games that are so raunchy they’re basically porn. And porn versions of those games exist, but to keep some of them streamer-friendly, they also sell versions that don’t have uncensored anime girls receiving creampies. That would definitely maintain the brand without going too far, right?

You open your phone, typing in some of the titles of games, mostly dating simulators you’ve seen other streamers play before, and then you stumble across one called MiCamStudio, a puzzle game with the plot where you’re the manager of a camgirl enterprise and your goal is to become the most successful, richest entrepreneur while keeping your girls happy.

You laugh. It feels a bit on the nose, but a fun way to shake things up in an after-dark concept. And it’s not too expensive, which means if this entire plan bombs, you won’t have invested much into it. Fine, you’ll do it.

Wonwoo responds right away after you shoot a quick message with your idea to your mods on discord to help them prepare.

On it.

With a deep breath, you start to get ready.

As you brace yourself to come back from your short bio break and announcement, your heart is hammering in your ears. What if everyone left? What if things get weird or gross or you think you’re being kind of sexy and cute but are really just being an idiot?

Suddenly, this entire idea seems so stupid. What if your mom decides this is finally the time she wants to watch you stream? She hasn’t ever had the interest to, but what if she finally thinks to herself on a random Saturday night in February, “Wow, I sure do crave watching some video game streams! Say, I know my daughter Y/N streams. I should check it out!” or worse, what if someone she knows sends one of the clips or a screenshot of you with your tits practically out?

Your anxiety is starting to win in this battle, and as you pace back and forth in front of your computer, shaking your clammy hands and trying to remember how to breathe, you see the number of viewers has dropped since the stream moved from all ages to 18+. Which means that you can now read your chat again.

The comments are actually really supportive. Among them are some of your mods cheering you on, but one username anchors you back into your chair as you watch the notification dance across the screen.

JokeJinSeokjin has subscribed for 3x months!

Seokjin. Seokjin is live and watching you. Which you expect to be the thing that will throw you over the edge. Seokjin, your boss. Your kind of friend. Your crush. The man who you are trying to emulate in this attempt to be sexy and earn more money and confidence.

Surprisingly, a warm glow of comfort settles in you stomach instead. Because while maybe in all of this mess there’s plenty to be anxious about, you feel a part of you that’s determined to make him proud, to show him in this rejection what he’s missing out on. You take a deep breath to steady yourself as you hit the button to come back.

“Ah, hello! I mean-um, hello,” you catch the nervousness pouring out of your shaky voice and clear your throat, trying to sound more composed.

“I wanted to try something new today. Well, tonight. Welcome to Spring Night Streams, where I’ll be playing some not safe for work in more of a raunchy way type of games. Because as we know if there’s blood and guts and horror, it’s all ages! But boobs, those are a no no!”

You shakily laugh and suck your lip into your teeth. The taste of your lipstick laths over your tongue and you try not to think about how messy you just made it look. Or how you might now have lipstick on your teeth to really add an effect of clownery to your poor jokes.

“I’m going to play this game? It came out a few years ago, but it’s a puzzle game called MiCamStudio. Maybe some of you have played it. But uh, yeah if you don’t like things like that I can always um…well I’ll just try it and see…” you trail off and nervously fidget with your controls as you open the game.

Whatever you were expecting out of a dating simulator type game where you were in charge of cam girls, it wasn’t this. When you open the menu to start a new game, the animation that loads after you click “Start Streaming” is dozens of bra-clad boobs bouncing across the screen as it transitions you to the story line menu.

Jesus Christ. Heat floods your cheeks. This somehow feels worse than the time your earbuds died and you didn’t notice that the audiobook of a very spicy holiday romance you were listening to wasn’t coming through them, but your phone. On the bus. And to make matters worse, you were at a part where the narrator was very generously providing sound effects and moans for the main character as she participated in an orgy with triple penetration. Yikes.

You begin the walk-through of the storyline, greeted by Candy, a pink haired, busty camgirl who is looking to expand her horizons in the business. As you tap through the prompts, Candy starts to become less dressed, abandoning her already tiny skirt and crop top combo for a barely-there set of lingerie that covers just her nipples and vagina.

“I need your help!” Candy pouts, her eyes shimmering with tears. “I need 400 new fans for my business or else I’ll be out of work! Quick, use this magic wand as you solve puzzles to help me get closer to my goal!”

The wand is, of course, a vibrator. When you play through the first level tutorial and are prompted to use the wand, it vibrates the blocks, shifting them into new positions on the screen to match colors together. If you get enough combos, she has a giant orgasm, which increases her fans so you can pass to the next level.

As you work through some of the first few levels, you notice that your view count has recovered somewhat from earlier, though the comments are kind of off-putting. Not because people are being sexually inappropriate, but because they’re mad you’re not interacting with them.

NGL I thought this was going to be more fun and naughty.

Yeah now she’s not even talking to us at all.

I miss when she was bad at games and it was at least interesting.

Someone come get me if she starts moaning again like she did earlier.

Fuck. You are fucking this up. And your viewers are right, you haven’t been talking to them. Or really doing anything but playing the game and trying not to wince from embarrassment every time Candy moans as you make her a star.

There’s got to be something you can do. You think about Seokjin again, who you’re not sure is still watching, but you hope some of that confident edge he had last night starts to come over you, too. What was it that he did to keep everyone engaged?

He gave them incentive. A goal. He didn’t have to say much to them but tell them what to do and they happily did it. And that also took the pressure off of him to keep talking.

With a deep breath, you test the waters. “Oh, you wanted more fun and naughty? Well, you didn’t really work for it did you?”

You hate the words as they come from your mouth, but they have an immediate result.

Loyal2You tipped 1600 points. What do you need us to do to earn it?

Your face burns hot, and you sip some water to try and cool yourself, playing it off as nonchalance rather than anxiety. You feel your stomach threatening to lurch into your throat as you force out the next sentence.

“Mmm, I don’t know. Maybe you need to show me what I need,” you smirk. You really don’t know. Money? Subs? People not questioning you? This to be over?

LongJohn69 gifted 10 subs. Maybe this will help? 😉

“Well, it’s a start. Thanks for the sub,” you giggle, forcing yourself to relax into your chair.

“Hmm, what can I give you all as a reward? I feel like I could really use some cute new clothes that I can wear for you next stream if you help me?”

Your voice is softened and the pitch is a bit higher. Maybe Candy’s baby voice is having an impact on you from the game, because your normal, even paced tone is taking a turn. Is this the persona you’ve been trying to find?

But you need this money. School, your future. You can’t just keep living the way you have been.

7DaysAWeek tipped 10,000 points. Please, say “thank you 7 days” in that adorable whiny voice, baby. I’ll double tip if you do.

You freeze. 20,000 points is $200. All for you to say something so simple and stupid?

God, but it doesn’t feel right to do it. You could ignore it, you think. And walk away with $100 before your commission rate is taken out. Which will end up being nothing, you realize.

“Oh, hmm.” You pause and then just do it. “Okay. Thank you 7 Days for the points. I really appreciate it.” You drum up the dramatics, eliciting some horrible, embarrassing baby voice that makes your vowels stringy and weak.

Yuck. More requests pour in, people eager to get you to recite some innocent seeming phrases that you know are fodder for their spank bank.

You see a tiny notification flash in the bottom right corner: a private message from Wonwoo.

Y/N, you could get into deep shit if you aren’t careful. This could potentially violate your terms of service.

You frown at the message but nod to let him know you read it.

“Okay, well, I think it’s time we get back to the game!” You awkwardly divert your attention back to the screen, letting Candy’s moans fill the silence as you ignore the new requests and subs for the rest of your stream, too humiliated to think about what they could be saying.

After you end your stream, you feel the damn of tears that was welling your eyes for the last half hour spill.

What a fucking disaster. What started as a hopeful night turned out to be one of your most streamed yet somehow also least successful broadcasts. The rush of viewers at the start provided you with a great boost, but after you didn’t engage again with the requests, your views, subs, and points plummeted, leaving you with a very slim payout for the day. This wouldn’t be much of anything for your bills once commission is taken.

You don’t know how people do this. You feel like absolutely dog shit, and you even wrapped early, pretending that you were sick. But maybe you also aren’t really pretending, your stomach feels knotted and sour.

Something about that felt wrong, but you don’t really understand why. It’s not like you’re prudish or fear sex. On any given day those kinds of requests stack up by the hundreds. But maybe it’s because tonight you finally peeled back the dismissive layer and let them in that has you feeling vulnerable and honestly, a little dirty.

You wipe some stray tears from your eyes, stretching across the desk to grab your phone and pull it off of do not disturb mode. You see a few texts from Seokjin that he sent while you were streaming.

Seokjin (8:17PM): Hey! I didn’t know you were supposed to stream yesterday. I would have let you leave early if I’d known.😞

Seokjin (9:15PM): Hey, are you okay? You look really uncomfortable. I know you’re playing and won’t see this until after you’re done but I wanted to check.

Seokjin (9:47PM): Y/N, please don’t feed into these requests if it’s not what you want.

Seokjin (10:02PM): Call me. The second you get this. Urgent.

You read the last text, which was sent twenty minutes ago. Shit, did something happen to the restaurant?

“Y/N,” Seokjin says after one ring, his voice strained.

“Um, hi Seokjin. I’m just calling you back because you said it’s urgent! Is everything okay with the restaurant? Did the snow knock power out or something? If you need me to come in tomorrow too I can help with stuff.”

“What?” Seokjin pauses for a second, his exasperation now turned to confusion. “No, Y/N. Everything with the restaurant is fine.”

“Oh. Then why did you call?” you ask.

“Well, if you saw all my texts then you know I was watching your stream. And I just wanted to check and make sure you’re okay after that? Near the end you looked pretty upset.”

The warmth in your stomach you felt when you first heard his voice is gone, replaced by a sharp, gritty unease.

“Oh. Um, yeah I’m…fine,” but the tightness in your throat betrays you and a tiny sob escapes as the tears begin falling again.

Seokjin doesn’t say anything as you sniffle into your phone, scrubbing the dribble away from your nose and cheeks with your sleeve.

“Hey,” he says as your cries become softer. “Do you want to get out of the house for a bit?”

“It’s kind of late, isn’t it,” you say weakly.

“That’s not what I asked. Do you want to get out of the house for a bit?” He repeats.

Do you? Part of you is exhausted, tempted to just go right to bed. But you know if you lie down right now in the rest of that unfolded pile of laundry you might never emerge.

“Ok,” you whisper into the receiver.

“I’ll come get you,” Seokjin says. “Dress warm. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

When you were little, your parents took you on a road trip to get away from the city. You sat in the backseat, kicking your father’s chair grumpily on the first day, tired from waking up early and having to be stuffed into the car with the mountain of snacks, toys, clothes, and camping gear you had shoved in beside you. Your father was patient for the first hour of your kicks, but before long the steady thump thump thump on his lower back was becoming a strong annoyance as he navigated further away from home.

“Y/N,” your father had sharply warned once he’d had enough. “Keep it up, and I’ll take your feet off and put them into my pockets.”

While in retrospect the threat is silly and impossible, at the time, your five-year-old self was struck with horror as you imagined him sawing your feet off like the patients who were out in the snow for too long in that medical TV show you saw at your grandparents’ house once.

You’d tucked your feet underneath you until you were at a rest stop, where picnic tables and a small garden scape awaited you, filled with native wildflowers and lazy, fat bees that hovered from flower to flower.

Your mother smoothed your hair with her hand, guiding you through the garden as your father bought your lunches from inside the building.

“He didn’t mean it,” she’d said softly, feathering the tips of your hair across your cheek. Goosebumps prickled along your arms and you shivered, even though the sun was heavy and hot on top of you that day. “No one will take your feet from you.”

You’d hugged her tightly then, still unsure as to why someone would try to take your feet from you. Your tapping in the car was mostly to keep you from feeling like you were going to be sick, but back then you didn’t really have the words to express yourself.

When your father returned, he wordlessly placed your meal in front of you, including a large, fudgy cookie for dessert. Your father had always been proud, and even then when he didn’t apologize to you and promise he wouldn’t saw off your feet, being given a dessert was as good as any apology.

He smiled when you licked the smudged chocolate off your fingers, eventually tutting impatiently so your mother would take you to the bathroom to wash up. Afterwards, you found him looking at a map on the building’s outside wall, with a bright cherry red You Are Here sticker signifying where in this confusing picture you were supposed to be.

“There’s an observation point a few stops away from here. It’s supposed to be a really nice view over a valley. Y/N, do you want to be our navigator for those and help me decide when we should stop to look?”

Laced in there was his apology. An opportunity at redemption, connection. You’d nodded instantly and scrambled back into the car, no longer upset about having to share your space in the backseat with all the cargo, ready to take on your role as your father’s co-pilot.

You visited every observation point along that freeway that trip, all the way from the rest stop to the campground in some rural village. Some of the spots were lackluster, now overgrown and showing a view of a wall of trees and bushes and not some regal cavern or farmland below. But there were also the ones that, had you never insisted on visiting, you would have never seen half as much of the flora and fauna you’d expected to see on your camping trip. And it was the one major trip your family had ever had that made you all feel like a collective unit, ready to fight against the forces of grumpiness or foot-sawers together.

From that point on, whenever you saw the sign marker, you couldn’t help but feel a smile bloom on your face, which is why at this moment you are sitting next to Seokjin in his car, bundled up and stupidly beaming at him as he mirrors a happy but confused smirk back at you.

When he’d picked you up, Seokjin didn’t say much, just started driving north, through your neighborhood and into the rolling hills outside of the city. While this morning’s snow still clings to the trees and rooftops of some hillside buildings, surprisingly, the plows have done a good job of ensuring the road is safe and salted. You can feel the tense knots in your shoulders starting to lessen a little just from the feeling of being somewhere else for a while.

As you weave up the mountain side, toward the observation point, you gasp.

“What?” he asks. “What’s wrong?’ His eyes bulge from his head.

“It’s just that, I love observation points,” you say sheepishly, not sure if you should divulge your entire story.

Seokjin nods, thoughtful. “I like to come up here sometimes when I’ve had a really bad day. Just need to clear my head. Seemed like you needed to do that too.” The car curves along the bend, some of the wind fluttering clods of snow from the trees and onto the road.

“Yeah, I do…” You trail off, letting him take you higher into the mountain before pulling into the observation point. This one has some small cafés and despite the late hour and snowfall, there are still quite a few cars parked in the lot, some sets of families and couples strolling around with warm drinks and peering out onto the twinkling, snow-covered city below.

“How’s your head,” he asks gently, and it takes you a minute to remember what he’s referring to. You touch the make-up covered bruise and shrug.

“Eh, it’s not so bad.” Truly, as the day wears on, you are feeling a bit tender, but the swelling has gone down, and your worry has gone with it.

Seokjin opens your door for you, ever the gentleman, and you try to fight off the harsh tug in your chest that likens this behavior to a date.

The two of you head over toward one of the lookout points, leaning against the rail posts. You take in the rolling hills below, how soft and plush the city looks now, almost like it could never be a place where you feel sadness or loneliness. You sigh.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Seokjin begins gently, “but I was wondering what happened during your stream tonight.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” you assure him.

Maybe this conversation would feel more uncomfortable if you didn’t already feel so awful. You are just trying to feel a little bit better about this whole ordeal. Trying to find in you some nugget of comfort to ensure a more stable future. And hell, Seokjin had made it seem so easy. But now, you are humiliated. You aren’t sure how you are going to go live again and go back to how things were before when the internet is probably making a giant laughing stock of you, or fetishizing you. You’re not sure which one is worse.

“So, I know when we used to be, um, friends, I had mentioned to you that streaming is something I fell into. And as you also know from working with me, I don’t have the best social skills. Or I can, maybe, I don’t know. Anyway, I haven’t been liking it that much, really. Mostly because people in the chat always ask really personal questions about me and it feels weird. Like they’re real people but they can’t be real, to me. Does that make sense?”

He nods once, urging you to continue.

“Right, so, in all of this, I’ve been trying to think of ways to make it more fun for me. And last night I saw you-YouTuber. I saw this YouTube streamer and on his stream he just seemed so cool, and smart. And he was able to both stay engaged without telling everyone everything and had distance. But he also was kind of domin-strong, he was just really good at telling people to meet goals and incentives. And it worked, they did it. I thought, maybe this could help me be better at this so I don’t hate it so much. I could make some persona, do something different that helps me better enjoy it or make more money. I don’t know. It seems stupid now when I think about it.”

“It’s not stupid, Y/N,” Seokjin says, turning to you. Your eyes flit to his face. His nose is pinkish from the cold, and his broad shoulders are tightly bound up to his ears to avoid the chill from spreading.

“Of course you should like streaming, but if you don’t, if this isn’t the formula that works for you, then maybe you should try something different to help you.”

“How do you do it?” you ask, realizing too late what you are saying.

Seokjin freezes. “Do what?”

“Um, how do you maintain confidence all the time? Like at work and stuff.”

Seokjin scoffs. “I don’t. You know that. Weren’t you just with me last week when I was bowing and spluttering like an idiot to Mrs. Yoon because that one repair man backed his car over her potted azalea? I was anything but confident then.”

You fight a soft smile. Seokjin had been trying to scoop the twiggy, out of season bush into a bucket to salvage it before offering to replace it. Mrs. Yoon however, was having none of it, chirping on about how that plant had been germinated from her ancestors’ hillside home generations ago, and despite her choosing to carelessly plop it into a busy alleyway, she was sure there was no replacement that could soothe her aching heart. Seokjin handed her a wad of cash, and a gift certificate to the restaurant in an act of good faith. That seemed to shut her up.

“You know what I mean,” you nudge. “You have an ability to talk to people though. Even Mrs. Yoon can’t say no to your mother’s bossam recipe when you charm her like that.”

“First of all, no one can say no to my mother’s bossam recipe, regardless if I’m there to grovel or not. Secondly, you’re charming too, Y/N.”

You chortle at this. You? Charming? “Ha, I wish. But really, Seokjin. Half of that stream was an awkward setup and I thought I was going to puke. And not because of how I was dressed or anything like that. It’s so weird. I don’t really care about if people make comments like that about me because they’re impersonal. But knowing that I am sitting there, and everyone has some expectation of how I’m going to perform for them, it makes me feel awful.”

“Tell me about it,” you hear him mutter, but he then recovers. “It sounds like that crossed one of your boundaries, then. Just because some explicit stuff doesn’t bother you, doesn’t mean that nothing ever will. And it doesn’t have to make sense. You can not care if strangers are talking about you sexually but care if you’re engaging with them and using sexual innuendos to do so.”

Part of you is tempted to engage with the comment, to press him to explain and pretend that you have no idea what he’s speaking in regard to. But what good would that do here? Please Seokjin, can you share with me how being a gay sex cammer, which I absolutely already know about after watching you and masturbating to you, has impacted your life?

God, how mortifying it would be for you.

Instead, you let the comment go, cutting him enough slack so he can assume you didn’t hear him.

“You know, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Seokjin adds. You shoot him a look.

“I don’t really have much of a choice at this point! No offense, but it’s not like I’m making bank at the restaurant, and I already have chosen to withdraw from this term because of billing issues and–”

“You’re withdrawing from school? Y/N!” He yells, and you feel a heat of shame flood your cheeks as you see some scattered people shift their attention toward you.

Now you were both embarrassed and pissed. How dare he scold you?

“Not from school, just the term!” you yell back. You’d made the choice in your spiral this evening, in between bio breaks. It was haunting you as you stared back at the packet of financial aid papers and billings notices. Streaming, you’ve now seen, is such a hit or miss game. And you truly can’t maintain the expenses that can cut into your work hours. Especially if you need to get a different job that isn’t streaming or working at the restaurant.

“Is..is that where Spring Night Streams is coming from?” he asks, face flushed with embarrassment at his outburst. Your anger dulls.

“Partially. This felt like some way to sustain myself without it draining me. I thought maybe if I look pretty, people won’t just come and try to either ask me super personal things I don’t want to share, or they’ll just feed into basically the illusion of sex and pay me that way. And I can continue to play games and suck at them or be good at them, but the original reason behind why they came to my stream could be replaced with a different person, someone who isn’t so closely trying to dig into me.

“But, then I fumbled the bag, and you saw it. The viewer count was fluctuating so bad, and the second I interacted with that one comment, suddenly I was toeing the line for TOS and could easily have jeopardized my entire branding and be permanently banned from the website for sexual activity. Tonight was one of the lowest payouts I’ve made since I started. And now I know too, this could all just as easily go away if I’m not being…I don’t know. Compliant.”

Seokjin makes a dissatisfied grunt, his breath coming out in a white puff. Now past eleven, most of the couples and families have dispersed, and the cute café that had advertised decadent looking hot chocolates is closed. The only thing remaining open is the tiny convenient store.

You try to suppress a shiver but fail.

“Come on,” he says, guiding you away from the railing and toward the store.

Inside, the shopkeeper doesn’t even flinch or look away from his phone, which is streaming some sports match in Spanish.

Seokjin places his hand on the small of your back as he guides you over to the drinks section, gesturing for you to select something from the warm options.

“I wouldn’t recommend anything pre-made,” he warns, his voice low. “That stuff has probably been here since this morning.” He helps himself to a tea packet and the hot water dispenser.

You browse a little and find a packet of hot chocolate. While it may not be the fancy, marshmallow delight pink drink that the café had advertised in their window, this will do just fine.

By the time you’ve gotten your drink mixed together, Seokjin is waiting for you at the counter, a selection of different snacks piled high and a gentle smile on his face despite how bothered and grumpy the shop worker is toward him, practically smashing the food into a bag and muttering a total.

You hadn’t given yourself a chance to really look at him before, but as he stands before you, you can finally take in how incredible he looks. While he’s wearing some gray joggers underneath, he’s elected for a long black puffer coat and green knit sweater and somehow looks so put together, so…boyfriend.

Your heart flutters a bit and you try to tamp it down. This isn’t a date, you remind yourself, Get a hold of yourself Y/N.

As you head back out into the chilly air, you both settle into a table outside of the convenience store, and Seokjin pulls the snacks out of the bag, all of which are your favorites.

“You remembered?” you ask, a little stunned that he would commit all your tiny convenience store runs to memory over the months you’ve worked together and would split packets of sweet potato puffs and tiny, sweet cakes. He shrugs.

“Morale is low. You need the boost. Now pass me some of those chips, I’m starving.”

Your stomach growls in agreement, and you pop open the bag, nibbling away quietly.

“You don’t need to people please to be a good streamer,” Seokjin says finally, rinsing his mouth with his tea. You chew your bottom nervously but wait for him to continue. “There’s tons of people on the internet who do streaming for all kinds of uh, stuff. And they make a ton of money without compromising their values to do so. Maybe instead of focusing on what you think people want in a stream, do what you want instead.”

You sigh. “See, that sounds great and all, but when I tried that today, people got mad and left. Did you see all the donations trying to get me to say things or do stuff after that first one?”

Seokjin rolls his eyes, taking a big bite of a chocolate cake thing and chewing diligently. “Welrr,” he begins, his mouth stuffed full, “I guesh you have to undershtand dat peepo on dee internet will always chewz sex first to get what dey wan.” He swallows. “And if that doesn’t work because someone sets a boundary, fuck them.” He pauses. “Not literally!” A blush creeps up his neck.

You laugh. “I thought you limited your swearing to mostly angry kitchen interactions,” you say, and sip the watery hot chocolate. You wince.

“You chose wrong with that hot chocolate. I’ll make it up to you next time.” Next time. Your stomach leaps.

“But you don’t see it because I’m trying to maintain a professional air most of the time. But I say shit, piss, cock and fuck pretty regularly.” Like when you’re camming, you mentally note.

“Yeah, so, speaking of that. And boundaries. This isn’t really the most professional boss-employee relationship happening right now.” You gesture around you. You didn’t want to say it, but you know it needs to be addressed. Seokjin and you really need to figure out a new set of rules, especially now you know what he does after dark, and he’s watching your streams, too.

He pauses and sighs. “Shit, yeah, you’re right. Look Y/N, I do want to talk about that. And we can address it. But before we do, I want to finish talking to you about what happened earlier today. Can we do a brief boss-employee dynamic halt for the rest of the time we’re up here? I want to talk to you as a friend right now, which we once were, even if it was for a short time. Will you let me do that?”

You look up at him, and he’s gazing back with intensity, and also something that looks almost like desperation.

“Okay,” you say. “For the rest of the time we’re out of the city. We are just two people. Friends. Not boss. Not an employee. Just us.”

He smiles at that. “Yeah, just us.”

Seokjin tried to not kick himself in his own ass for doing what he was doing now. Bringing you up here, to his safe place, was far too intimate of a decision. But when he’d watched the rest of your stream, watched you do stuff that– while he couldn’t be absolutely sure but he could assume– tested your boundaries and comfort, he knew he couldn’t just let you spiral by yourself.

He’d been there before. During a show earlier in his cam career, Seokjin was once asked to try a more extreme kink on his stream which involved a thin metal rod that he would push into his urethra for pleasure.

He’d agreed to try it before he’d even looked it up, and even when purchasing the equipment, he’d felt really queasy and knew he would hate it. But he’d promised, which he now understood was a fake law people set for themselves to push them past their limits. On the stream where he tested it out, he started shaking and crying, stopping before he could even open the package with the rods in it and ended his stream early.

From then on, he had spent more time learning about kinks and BDSM. It was much more psychological and technical than he��d realized, with precise and careful movements, components of care, and more thoughtfulness than he’d ever really learned from porn or the internet.

While he and Soon Yi had been exploratory in their sex life, it wasn’t like they’d ever done proper research when they were together. Looking at things now, he felt a little sickened knowing she could have gotten seriously hurt the times he choked her, not knowing the right placement of hands or pressure to make sure he didn’t cause permanent damage.

Seokjin then reassessed his boundaries. He never wanted to position himself on his streams where he would succumb to pressure for money and compromise his own safety or desire. This was supposed to be fun.

The main tenets of BDSM are safe, sane, and consensual, which is hard to define on the internet. When something is leaked or found by the wrong party, it can especially compromise consent. With a permanent imprint of something existing once agreed upon, at any point someone’s right to withdraw consent can be invalidated simply because there’s a paper trail. And if that happened, then safety and sanity were sure to be called into question too.

Which is why Seokjin couldn’t stay silent after he saw you drawing breath after shaky breath after the first exchange with that follower. The instant regret that bloomed on your face as you so easily traded your comfort to make money, he never wanted you to feel that or experience it again.

Which is why you now sat before him, the residual makeup from your stream still there but smeared, a thin looking peacoat doing a lot of work to protect you from the elements. This is why he said dress warm. Why were you wearing a glorified blazer in this weather?

He knew his time was limited with you, and that yes, he was already compromising this boundary that he’d set. But boundaries could be redrawn, and in this moment, he didn’t want the only thing protecting you right now to be that peacoat. He needed to protect you too.

Granted, you probably were questioning his qualifications in this, and for a brief moment he considered telling you, but he quickly dismissed the idea when he remembered the video of him cumming and saying your name existed on his page if you’d ever gotten curious. Behind a paywall, sure, but it was there.

No, for now, it was Seokjin and Y/N, friends. Us, he thought, and his pulse quickened unhelpfully.

You sat in front of him, sipping at that awful hot chocolate, waiting for him to deliver more of his advice. He hesitated to speak more. Here you were, attention fully focused on him, and the dependence on him to get you home tonight, to move back into a world that wasn’t just you two and your own little universe, and all Seokjin was doing was considering how long he could carry on the pause.

Maybe he would never speak again, and you would have to stay here forever, on top of the mountain as the snow began to gently fall around you two like you both lived in your own private snow globe.

Wait, snow? Seokjin blinked, and sure enough the flakes were swirling around you both again, the wind kicking up your hair. You let out a sharp shiver, and that broke the fantasy of staying here.

He ushered you back to the car, where now the snow was coming down in thick, heavy globs that signified the moisture in the air had increased, which made sense. Back in the city, the forecast had said it was set to rain, but he’d forgotten elevation impacts the weather, and that the change of moisture in the air also could result in ice on the way down.

As you warmed your hands in front of his heat vents, he tried to think of his next move. It was now after midnight, which meant the road authority was probably not planning on plowing the roads anytime soon, and the accumulation quickly erasing the parking lot around you was a sure sign that it soon would be unsafe to drive.

If you stay here any longer, you might be stuck together all night, an evil idea glinted through his head, and he felt a pulse of desire run through him as he caught a whiff of your soft, sweet scent.

It would be kind of hot, the two of you snuggled in the backseat of his SUV, you clinging to him tightly to keep yourself warm through the storm as you used his parka as a blanket, the windows fogging up to give you two privacy as you moved tighter together, panting into each other’s mouths when you rubbed up against him and–

No. He couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t. Urging his steadily inflating erection down, he glanced over to you, noticing you were still shivering.

He sighed. God, why did he have to get hard right now, in gray sweatpants no less? Nothing screamed “boner alert” more than seeing a dick swelling in light colored sweats. But you were still cold, and he decided he would rather risk you seeing him hard than your teeth chattering or you getting sick.

Seokjin removed his puffer, handing it to you. “Here, put this on,” he ordered, and you looked at him, a tremor rocking through your body as you tried to eke out a “thank you”.

You began to put the puffer over your peacoat, but Seokjin shook his head. “I think your peacoat is useless right now. Maybe you should take that off and just wear mine. And then, consider getting a new coat,” he teased.

You hesitated. “Uh,” you said. Seokjin’s eyebrow raised, and he swiftly adjusted himself in his joggers while you looked down at your coat before sighing and unbuttoning it.

Fuck. You still had on that same top from earlier, and Seokjin could now see that it wasn’t just a sexy, low cut top that showed your heavy and full breasts, but that it also had a large keyhole cutout through the back, which meant you didn’t wear a bra with it. He bit his lip as he took in your hard and prominent nipples. God, no wonder you were cold. You were practically naked.

His cock twitched, and any attempts he had at concealing his erection were useless. He was now definitely going to be fully hard for the rest of the drive.

You zipped yourself into Seokjin’s puffer and let out a satisfied sigh as you nuzzled into the warmth. Seokjin took the opportunity to snatch your peacoat from your lap and drape it over himself, praying that would help conceal some of the compass-pointing-north bullshit he was trying to stave off.

Unfortunately, you snuggled into his coat was just making it worse.

Clearing his throat, he started the car, and slowly began testing the surface of the parking lot. It was a little slick, but nothing too bad. If you stayed any longer, though, you would definitely be here overnight.

With a silent, sad nod to the outlook point, Seokjin prepared himself to head back to reality, where your moment of connection would be replaced by workplace congeniality.

About halfway down the mountain, the snow surely turned to a heavy rain, aggressively battering down on the windshield and making it nearly impossible to find the lines on the road.

“I’m sorry, I think I should pull over,” he apologized and you agreed easily, your shoulders relaxing a bit as he pulled over to the side of the road.

“Well, we never really got to finish talking about stuff anyway,” you offered generously.

Seokjin smirked back. “Yeah, we didn’t. Look, what I wanted to say earlier was that with streaming, you shouldn’t have to compromise on what you want to be successful. If people leave your stream because they can’t hear you baby voice their requests so they can get off, then fuck them. They aren’t the community of people you want to watch your content, anyway. Those are the type of people who are never satisfied, who will just demand more from you. Sooner or later they’ll be less kind and be aggressive and threatening. And you don’t deserve that, Y/N.”

He sucked in a breath. “You just need a chance to build confidence, that’s all. Assuming you even want to continue doing these streams. I know you said you don’t feel like you have much of a choice, but maybe I could help you out. Uh, I could give you a raise or something so you could quit! And with school, too, I’m sure we could figure out something! Maybe if it’s not too late you could go back and––”

You held up your hands, signaling for Seokjin to stop talking.

“I’ve made up my mind! And I don’t think giving me a raise or trying to help me with school would be a great way of maintaining that boundary we are supposed to have, remember? Something tells me a boss isn’t supposed to offer his employee an undeserved pay raise for her personal issues.” You huff.

You were right. Seokjin chuckled. “Okay, fair. I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to throw everything away like I did.”

You whipped your head over to him. “Listen, Seokjin. I appreciate that you care and don’t want things to happen to me. But I’m also not you. And you also didn’t throw everything away but that’s another topic completely, one I thought we discussed yesterday morning. Regardless, I’m getting a lot of mixed messages here and I need you to help me understand what exactly is happening right now. Are you my friend or my boss? Because right now it feels like you’re telling me what to do like you are in charge of me but hiding it behind the guise of friendship and that’s not how this works. So explain. Ideally before you drop me off and we don’t speak again until Monday.”

Seokjin swallowed hard, an anxiousness beginning to swirl in your stomach. This whole conversation felt like it was going south really quick. He scrambled to steady himself and took a deep breath.

“You’re right,” he said, running a hand through his hair. He hadn’t styled it today, and the black strands were sticking to his forehead from the melted snow. “I’m sorry. You have every right to decide. And you’d said before that this was a temporary pause. And even if it wasn’t, that’s also your choice.”

“Again, yes, you’re right. But I also don’t see why you seem to care so much!” Your volume raised in annoyance and you crossed your arms over your chest in a puff. “You don’t get to decide I’m some soft little flower who can’t advocate for herself! Like yeah, I feel shitty about what I did but I’m just trying to figure out my boundaries, just like you said earlier! So yes, I have the right to decide if I want to go back to school or not! Thanks for pointing that out!”

If he hadn’t been getting chewed out right now by you, Seokjin would’ve thought you were the cutest thing he’d ever seen, your mouth settled into a sharp frown and your eyebrows knit together as you argued with him.

Instead though, he felt like a jackass. He’d seriously overstepped in his attempts to protect you, and guilt washed through him as he realized he was placing himself into your shoes. Even if your situations were scarily similar, you still had the right to do what you wanted without his interference. Besides, his intention was to provide safety for you, not control. Maybe he’d underestimated you earlier and how you were utilizing your stream. Yes, you were uncomfortable, but it’s not like you were a child who was set to be taken advantage of, or that you’d make the same mistakes he would.

“I-I care about you, Y/N. We’re friends. I know being your boss changed a lot, and while I sign your paycheck and have to give you orders, it’s not like that change in role made me care less. It’s not that easy.”

You uncrossed your arms. “But,” you started, your tone softening, “you can’t both tell me what to do as my boss and tell me what to do as a friend. I’m not clocked in, Seokjin. And that’s why this is so fucking hard. Because my boss is the one who took me up a mountain after apologizing to me yesterday for his “gross misuse of power” when I’m the one who kissed you sitting on a fucking prep counter! And yeah, we were friends before you were my boss, and that means I learned to work with you and trust you as my coworker, and we shared interests so you can watch my streams and tell me about MapleStory. We have history and it’s not something we can deny. But you keep acting like I am not in control, like I am not an adult.

“I would love it if we could stay on this mountain forever,” you added, taking the words Seokjin was thinking earlier and making them real, “because, maybe then we could just stay friends. I miss you as my friend! And I wouldn’t feel so…weird now trying to figure out which guy, Boss Seokjin or Friend Seokjin, is talking to me.”

Seokjin was unsure what to say, just that he knew he’d fucked up yesterday not just with his behavior in the kitchen, but ultimately how he set boundaries with you.

“I don’t know what to do about it, Y/N,” he said weakly, honestly.

“Can I then offer a suggestion?” Your voice sounded frustrated, on the verge of yelling. He nodded.

“On this mountain, right now. You are my friend. And any other time when we aren’t at work, we are friends. We are not the first two people who started a friendship and had a power dynamic at work. I don’t know what happened in your past that makes this so hard for you, and you don’t need to tell me. But whatever you said yesterday, it wasn’t true. I want you to trust me when I say you didn’t take advantage of me. Was it kind of stupid and inappropriate on both our parts? Sure. But I’m not this weak, breakable thing. You said so yourself with my boundary-setting for my stream that I just need confidence to assert myself and make sure I don’t get taken advantage of. So let me start with you. Help me start with you.”

You leaned a little closer and Seokjin’s heart beat erratically. “I promise, Kim Seokjin, that whatever happened in the kitchen yesterday was consensual. At least on my end. And that I do hold you in regard as my boss during work hours most of the time. But I can’t fucking stand if you continue to uphold this standard when you talk to me as an authority and then immediately pull a hypocritical move and try to be my friend after. It’ll drive me crazy.”

Your voice was shaky now, like you were holding back tears. Seokjin fought the urge to pull you close to him, but god, how he wanted to.

“What you do need,” he asked and you sighed.

“Clear communication. On both sides. No more deciding for me. On anything. If I say no at work, it’s just as valid as saying no in private, even if it’s something you think is what’s best for me. Even if you don’t like it. Because you don’t know what really is or isn’t until I tell you.” He nodded in agreement.

“I can do that. And I’m sorry again, for how confusing this must’ve been. I acted selfishly when I decided that my position as your boss overruled and negated any of our history. It was never going to be as clean as I wanted it to be,” he apologized.

You managed a sad smile but nodded, a sign you accepted his apology.

“Thank you. And also, I do want to continue doing the streams. I didn’t get to say that before. I do want to try after dark stuff. Because it feels like it could be fun, could help me stay involved but less personal if that makes sense. And…” You trailed off, humming to yourself as you tried to find the words for your final thought.

“I really would like it if I could have your help in this. To help coach me in a way to maintain that boundary. You did have some really great points on execution. And I think maybe your experience in cam-leadership and management could help me both continue doing this but also finding what I want. And I need a friend for that. Not a boss or manager.”

Seokjin’s eyes widened as he caught the last of what you were saying.

“Wait,” he said, trying to put the pieces together. Were you asking what he thought you were asking? “So…you want me to help you run an adult-only, after dark gaming stream?” You laughed.

“I need you to be my confidence coach,” you clarified. “Help me learn how to say no to my fanbase and keep myself calm throughout a stream so I don’t compromise. And like, I don’t know. We can iron out the details, the idea is so fresh to me, but I need you, my caring friend Seokjin, to make sure I don’t break the terms of service again and ban me from streaming.”

He blinked a few times, unsure how you’d arrived at the conclusion that he would be any good at this.

But Seokjin knew he would be. He did this multiple times a week, and it’s how he knew you were heading toward trouble. What if he could help you learn how to protect yourself? Because you were right, you didn’t need anyone to save you. But you maybe needed someone to show you. And he could be that person.

“Okay,” he said, “I’ll do it.”

As Seokjin pulls up to your apartment nearly an hour later, you feel a slight sadness that your night is over. On the way home, as the rain steadily poured and the city lights came back into a clear view, you’d felt a tug of worry in your gut that because you were back in the city, your agreement to stay friends wasn’t real, and that any moment Seokjin would be cold and formal, withdrawing his agreement to help you with streaming.

You’d had the idea in the car in somewhat of an epiphany, sorting through the confusing dynamic you’d been shoved into. It made sense to you, now. Instead of trying to model yourself after the master, why not learn from the man himself?

Despite your initial anxiety that he would back out, Seokjin if anything is all the more reassuring, gently nudging you with your peacoat in his hands to signal it is time to trade. You nod sleepily, shrugging it off your shoulders and trying to ignore the disappointment you have in no longer being enveloped in his warm scent.

As you tuck your arms back through your sleeves, Seokjin gets out of his side of the car, the rain still beating harshly, but he appears even more determined to open your door for you, opening an umbrella to keep you and your coat from getting pounded on.

You try to insist on sharing the umbrella, but Seokjin shakes his head, guiding you forward toward your apartment complex’s front door.

“Thank you,” you say as you step under the lip of the roof with him, smiling up at Seokjin, who is already soaked. His black hair is piecey and dripping down his face, plastering a few disheveled pieces across his forehead. “God, you really should’ve used the umbrella too! You’re drenched!”

Seokjin laughs a hearty laugh, the squeaky, windshield wiper one that makes your chest burn. “Please, that coat you’re wearing is pathetic. I had said dress for the warmth and you picked one of the worst things you could find. Even a standard issue blazer has more weather resistance than that thing!”

“Excuse you, but this coat most of the time is fine. And also, I thought you were just saying it as a formality! If I’d known we were heading into a literal mountain I would have changed my clothes!” You bicker back, your laughter filling the space between you two.

“Yeah, well, now you know for next time,” he says, eyes flickering with something you almost categorize as lust.

You beam. This time the idea of next time feels possible. If Seokjin and you can work on these weird work boundaries, there might be a hope something comes from this after all. Unless he’s gay, which you still can’t quite figure out, but you try not to think about that as he shakes his head like a big dog.

“Okay, Sparky,” you joke and glance down at your phone. It’s very late now, and your body is quickly succumbing to the exhaustion of the day. “I’ll see you Monday?”

Seokjin’s shoulders sag, and he sighs, stepping back into the rain. “Yeah, I should probably let you go now. I’ll see you on Monday. And Y/N?”

His lips turn into a smug smirk as the rain soaks through his clothes. “Don’t forget that you promised me a crate of julienned carrots”.

#bts smut #seokjin smut #jin smut #kim seokjin #seokjin x reader #seokjin #bts fanfic #ksj #ksj x reader #ksj smut #ksj fic

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leggerefiore · 6 months

Note

Hey, I saw that your requests are open so I wanted to ask how Maxie, Archie, Cyrus and maybe some other characters of your choice would be like as dads, if you want to write about that ^^;

anon don't let me make more pokemen dilfs.

uhhh took this as a /reader thing since that's how my blog is.

cw: afab reader, light mentions of pregnancy and birth, mostly focused on villains being dads, mentions of termination for a second in cyrus's part,

characters: Maxie, Archie, Cyrus, Volo

☀️Maxie🌋

🪨 When you first told the Magma Leader the news, he had nearly fainted. He was certain he had been careful, but his mind instantly drew a few times such a thing could have occurred. Maxie actually needs to be supported by how limp his limbs go. Truly, he did not know how to handle the idea he was going to be a father. For some reason, his brain recalled the child who had opposed his team as he debated his next move. Being a dad did not sound awful to him. He just was completely unsure as to what to do.

🪨 Somehow, he managed to get over his immediate hesitations and considered the positives. The redhead was not getting any younger, after all. He had felt a strange uncle-like care for the child who had stopped him. It was not so bad having a child to look out for, he thought. Plus, he had beaten Archie in something again. He soon found himself pouring countless hours into guides and information related to parenthood and fatherhood. Being well-informed was the first step he felt.

🪨 He had his ups and downs throughout the pregnancy before finally having a full-on breakdown during labour. His practised stern expression gone with his sanity. They had to give him a bag for his frantic breathing, and he had to be removed from the room. He would later apologise for his behaviour, but it was all too surreal for him. But, in the end, he stares in wonder at the newborn. The small boy's weight in his arms was so light, yet so heavy. Tufts of red hair decorated his head as Maxie took in another shaky breath.

🪨 It was a struggle actually adjusting to parenthood. Reading was one thing, a screaming baby at one in the morning was another. Still, he powered through it all. There was something enchanting to watch as the baby grew more and more aware. His son seemed to grow an affinity for grabbing at his hair or trying to take his glasses while making interesting coos and gurgles at him. He was not sure just what kind of person they would grow into, but he was determined to help try to raise them into a person who would be mindful of the environment and kind.

🪨 As they grew, Maxie found himself seeing too much of himself in his son. They could be just as stubborn and unyielding as he was, while being oddly fascinated with geology as he was. He even had to stop his son from eating dirt at one point, which stirred unfortunate youthful memories out of the Magma Leader. Despite how they would butt heads, Maxie felt strangely in tune with him. He loved letting his son read his reports and explaining the different meanings held within.

🪨 He felt especially cocky when he introduced Archie to his boy, smirking at how the pirate seemingly was lost as to how the redhead actually reproduced. Before he could rub his life achievement in his face, Archie knelt down and ruffled the boy's head with a friendly grin. He bit his tongue. The Aqua Leader congratulated his counterpart genuinely and told the boy to keep an eye out for his old man. All Maxie could do was grumble in return.

🪨 He tries to be fair, but he knows boundaries are important and healthy for children. The effects of being too permissive with children often led to the creation of troublesome people, after all. Though he does not want his son to feel rejected and like Maxie does not care for him, he makes sure to have actual discussions with his son about why and how with things. He does feel like his child has a good understanding of these things in the end but feels like he accidentally imposed many of his mannerisms onto his son.

🪨 Team Magma ends up talking about the so-named mini Maxie frequently. The obvious resemblance between their leader and his son is just so fascinating. Even Courtney wishes to coo over an almost perfect clone of her leader. Tabitha just nervously laughs whenever the boy follows his dad in to watch the Magma scientists work. He is very well accepted, no matter his age. Grunts even nervously act as properly as they do when their leader strolls in.

🪨 Overall, Maxie ends up as a slightly overbearing parent who tries to understand his kid and have them understand him back. He goes from being nervous about parenthood to being deeply grateful for the change. His son brought an odd new purpose into his life after everything that had happened with Groudon. He truly enjoys every moment spent with his family.

🌧Archie🌊

💧 When you told Archie about the news, he scooped you up like you weighed nothing and spun you around excitedly. The Aqua Leader had been feeling like something was missing from his life, and he feels like you just answered it. There is no hesitation or doubt from the man — No, this must be his destiny. The little scamp that had been his odd rival while he tried to awaken Kyogre made him realise how nice being a dad could be. He instantly begins to ramble off assorted ideas and plans while you can only stare at him.

💧 Honestly, he probably had been unconsciously trying for a child. Archie thought back on his own youth with both happy and confused feelings. Having a kid could be really difficult, he realised. Shelly came in to save him by gifting him a bunch of parenting books and reminding him that it was a genuinely serious change in his life. He suddenly felt more grounded, for lack of a better word, in his thoughts. Plus, he had beaten Maxie in something! Not that he really thought his rival wanted a kid, though.

💧 He does simply everything for you during your pregnancy. Archie proves just how dedicated he can be to a goal with his attentiveness to you. Even during the birth, he stood at your side with a bright grin and endless support. Though, internally, he would admit he was panicking just a bit. This was still a dangerous process, even if he treated the doctors and whatever else. Though, when everything calmed down and a small infant was laid in your arms, his heart just felt full. A little girl was now the newest and most important member of his crew.

💧 His adjustment to life with a baby is something amazing. It seemed he really took all the advice in those books to heart, as he just accepted his sleep schedule was going to be ruined until the poor girl found a schedule. Archie did not mind, simply happy to see more and more of the little thing. He even found a good nickname for her when she held a small death grip on his beard. His little Clamperl. She was quite fond of laughing and giggling, too, which made his heart feel even warmer. However, sadly, everyone around him stuck down him wanting to try infant swimming classes.

💧 As she grew, Archie was a bit amazed about how she seemed to be just like him. A strong affinity for water and loving to just be around people. Both of them could just spend all day on the beach and in the water playing around, making Archie think back to his own youth. He had loved the ocean then as much as he loved it now and is glad to pass his love on to his daughter. The Aqua Leader adored teaching her all about marine life and the many creatures that lurked in the waiting waves. She seemed to absorb the information like a sponge.

💧 He felt smug when Maxie saw him and his daughter in Slateport. The redhead stood stunned at the little girl holding his rival's hand tightly. The Magma Leader approached with careful steps. The girl just beamed up at him. Maxie actually smiled back at her. He shot a glance at Archie. He carefully listened to the little girl excitedly telling him about the Chinchou she saw. The Aqua Leader's feelings changed. Maxie almost seemed proud of him. Before Maxie departed, he congratulated Archie and told the girl to keep her dad in line. She just grinned up at him.

💧 He is a bit too lenient with his daughter, he knows. The girl simply deserves everything he feels, and he struggles to tell her no. Of course, he does know the importance of setting up boundaries for kids so they do not get all out of control. Though, he absolutely struggles with punishments, sadly. His softness, thankfully, is not taken advantage of because his daughter is just as oddly good-natured as he is.

💧 His team is just eager to have his daughter around. She loves playing around with the grunts, even when it ends with her horribly beating them in a pokemon battle. Everyone just sees her like another Archie, almost. She is just less likely to give out orders. Shelly simply adores the girl and loves dressing her up or just hanging out with her while Archie is too busy to be with her. Matt, on the other hand, is overly protective over her. The poor guy is terrified that his bro's daughter is in danger because of how small she is. Granted, she is very safe because the entirety of Team Aqua would hunt whoever hurt her down.

💧 In the end, he is quite excited to be a father and eager to do everything he possibly can for his child. He struggles a bit when it comes to pushing back on her and is probably too permissive for it to be good, but his example of bring redeeming himself from his past actions and genuinely caring for pokemon and the sea sets a good example for her. She quickly adopts many of his interests in protecting the environment, and he feels certain that his change of heart after Kyogre was all for good with that.

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ When you told Cyrus of the news, he froze. His entire world seemingly paused, and the only thing he could hear was the sound of his heart racing. Father… Him? No, he could not. What a terrifying thought. His own childhood creeping up his back as he debated how to most kindly ask for a possible termination. Your immediate refusal shook him even more. Losing you was not something that he believed he could bear in this world, so sickeningly consumed by spirit. Could you not just wait for his perfect world to start a family?

☄️ He relents after his initial panic. Your joy is apparent with how you speak to the unborn child and loving place a hand over where they should be. Was twenty-seven an appropriate age to start a family? He supposed there was little time to consider. Immediately, he found himself drowning in guides upon guides upon books and informational videos until he felt somewhat confident in what being a parent entailed. He absolutely dreaded every coming minute of it, but he refused to make that apparent to his future child. Cyrus would not dare even imitate his parents.

☄️ Amazingly, he managed to stay by your side during the stages of labour. While he almost constantly wanted to leave the room, horrified but what he could only blame on spirit, he remained and forced his feelings down to support you and advocate when you were unable to. You seemed grateful for his unfaltering support in the end, smiling as you held the infant girl in your arms. Cyrus felt amazed by her very existence. Soft blue tufts were on her head, while her face seemed frozen in a familiar expression. You called her a mini Cyrus. He could only feel awestruck.

☄️ He struggled immensely in the shift after bringing her home. Thankfully, it was less due to the constant awakenings (as his insomnia made that easy enough to deal with) but more so how she simply existed in his space. Her cries broke his heart, making him fear he was already falling into the ways of his parents. Yet, he found that she was straightforward to comfort, simply craving to be held and softly spoken to. Her eyes, the same colour as his, adoringly stared up at him, and he suddenly felt warm inside.

☄️ Her growing up was both a relief and torment to him. She proved herself just as reclusive as he could be and not interested in any other kids for the most part. Cyrus felt strange seeing his daughter hidden in her room and burying herself in whatever hobby she had decided to indulge in. It was like staring into a mirror that reflected one's younger days. He found himself being someone she could talk to about her hobbies, happy to listen at any time. Cyrus felt even more stunned whenever she followed him to his office and watched how he worked on his machines. It slowly turned into him explaining everything to her and her wishing to help him.

☄️ He flinched at how Cynthia caught him out at the Veilstone department store with his daughter one day. The champion stared in silence at them for a moment before falling into her unusual polite grin and waving at the small girl. Cyrus knew that the blonde would not do anything to her yet still felt strangely nervous about how she had gazed at him specifically. The babbled quietly to Cynthia about her interests, and she could only smile more at the girl. When the woman finally left, her final glance back at him spoke too many words. “You accepted this world, didn't you?” Had he? Cyrus forced those thoughts away.

☄️ He, truthfully, is quite soft as a parent. What he has been through has made him terrified of ever inflicting such pain onto a child. Cyrus is much too weak when it comes to his daughter and folds into himself for what she asks for. He strangely finds her already perfect. In fact, he dared to even say her spirit was somehow complete. He does make sure she understands social norms and boundaries, still, but she seems to come to understand on her own all the same. The only downside is that he struggles to be affectionate with her, only allowing himself the rare hug and mostly relying on petting her head.

☄️ Team Galactic is oddly obsessed with their boss's mysterious child. How she just showed up one day after Cyrus took an unexpected few weeks off. They all found themselves engaged in watching how she mimicked her father unknowingly. Mars and Jupiter love playing with the little girl, seeing a need for a more feminine touch in her life and finding her fun to dress up. While Saturn seemingly finds himself on babysitting duty whenever Cyrus gets busy. He secretly enjoys these moments and shows her games on his computer. The grunts are constantly getting jumpscared by her accidental glare.

☄️ Overall, he struggles quite a bit with his own childhood, but desperately does not want his beloved child to ever go through what he had. Cyrus leans probably strict in some ways, yet extremely permissive and passive in other ways. At first, the idea of parenthood nearly makes him ill, but he somehow moves past it into deeply enjoying the connection he has with his daughter. While he still has not accepted this painfully incomplete world, he feels his daughter is leading him to another possible answer to his inquiries and wishes to see what she thinks when she is at an age to understand. Perhaps he would even dare let her make the new world herself.

💫Volo📜

⭐️ When you told him the news, he sincerely debated fleeing and hiding again. Being a parent was a terrifying concept to him. He simply was not someone who had much interest in establishing a family line. After all, he had made very obvious his intentions to continue pursuing Hisui's myths to one day finish his goals. While he may have relented to whatever kind of relationship this was, he was not sure a child was something he needed. Then you mentioned that his child would come from one chosen by Arceus, and he suddenly gave in.

⭐️ He supposes that a child from both his blood of the ancient Sinnoh people and yours from that of one chosen by Arceus sounded too good. Besides, he had begun to wonder what should happen if he failed in his endeavours. A descendant could carry on where he left off, even possibly creating the world he so desired and bringing him back should he die. His acceptance is quiet and subtle. He finds himself listening to men and women about their experiences of being parents as he wanders around Hisui. Bravely, he even questions Cogita about what is entailed, intriguing her.

⭐️ He could not be at your side for any process of the delivery since he was very much wanted for his crimes in Jubilife, but he was somewhat doting during the pregnancy. He attempted to get whatever you requested, though he felt like he was going a bit mad when you sent him out hunting for seemingly endless leeks out in the wilds. Volo was mostly following Cogita's instructions here. It was about a week after the birth when you finally managed to sneak out of the village with the infant for him to finally greet the child. He could only stare at the sleeping face of his daughter in mild bewilderment. Soft golden tufts were across her head as she nuzzled into his warmth. His heart felt oddly heavy.

⭐️ When you finally escaped back to his home, he felt distressed by how needy the child was. Crying nearly relentlessly and needing attention more than he expected, yet before he could complain, he realised how he felt about those thoughts. Quickly, he shut them down and took to intently caring for the child. How could he have even thought such a thing about his child? He felt ill. Her confused coos and giggles at lease forced the pain out of his heart. She always seemed so entranced with his hair and desperately tried to grab it. Her grey eyes held pure adoration as she turned her head to find him whenever he was not holding her.

⭐️ As she grew, he became worried. His own youth was extremely difficult and lonely. The only person he felt he could turn to was rarely around, so he always found himself alone and ruminating on his complicated feelings. It all seemed pointless with how easily she spoke with other people. A bit like him, he supposed. Her intrigue with his investigations of ruins and myths drew her in, too. The girl listening to her father go on and on about history and stories of myths. Volo felt oddly eager. It seemed his legacy would inherit his interests. She began joining him to look over ruins and learn the culture of the ancient Sinnoh people.

⭐️ Cogita seemed smitten with his daughter, he had noticed. The older woman had often been there for him in his youth, and now it appeared her intentions remained the same for the girl. If his partner was busy while he was, too, he found her more than willing to babysit. She shared just as many myths to the girl as he had. The girl seemed utterly fascinated with everything, just as he had been. Though, he could feel the slight glare Cogita would give him when he listened in. It seemed she was more than aware of his darker plans.

⭐️ Volo is not really sure how to parent. He tries to be supportive towards his daughter, but struggles to understand if what he is doing is right or wrong. His parents were not exactly around him enough to help him even now by an example. He almost ends up treating her like a pokemon. Firm boundaries and obvious things you do and do not do. She has many moments of frustration towards the blond, which he entirely understands. Though, he does find himself overly protective of her. He feels she is in danger as the hero of Hisui's child alongside being his own, not mentioning the general danger of Hisui alone.

⭐️ From what he hears, the Galaxy Team simply adores her. Laventon cannot stop himself from going on and on about pokemon behaviours to the girl, and even bravely offering her another one of the pokemon he brought from his home region. Cyllene seems to fret over her wellbeing whenever you take her out of the village to his home, claiming she is too young to explore the harsh wilderness even while being monitored. Even Kamado has a strange soft spot for the kid, probably trying to make up for what he did to you. Volo can only sigh at all that.

⭐️ Ultimately, he has many shortcomings as a parent. It is a difficult change for him, but he forces himself to be at least more supportive and caring than his own parents were towards him. He honestly can be a little too harsh with his words, but somehow, his daughter seems to get he is trying his best. Her love for history and mythology makes him feel confident she will pick up where he left off should anything ever happen to him. After all, he plans to take her to the Temple of Sinnoh and explain to her his ultimate goals. She is already being trained in battling as a wielder by him. But, somehow, he wonders if she really will. The look in her eyes is much like his own yet different.

#pokemon x reader #volo x reader #cyrus x reader #maxie x reader #archie x reader #pokemon/reader #volo/reader #cyrus/reader #archie/reader #maxie/reader #pokemon volo x reader #pokemon cyrus x reader #pokemon archie x reader #pokemon maxie x reader

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just-a-strange-boy · 11 months

Text

experimenting for friends

part 2 - hair-pulling

part 1

Sherlock Holmes is a man prone to addiction. In means of trying to finally set an end to his substance abuse by finding something equally stimulating, he is eager to do his share of research - and of course, it's your help he's requesting. Another experiment entails.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader (GN)

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI), mentions of drug abuse/addiction, mentions of relapse, penetrative sex, mentions inexperienced/virgin Sherlock, questionable sexual favours, fwb (?)

A/N: this is definitely not how you (should) treat substance abuse, but hey... it's Sherlock

"I have a request."

You were just sorting through some paperwork, a whole clutter of important documents you figured he should keep, neatly organizing them in binders and folders, something Sherlock thought was too mundane and boring to do, when the detective came to approach you, downright startling you with one of his spontaneous verbal outbursts.

"Fire away", you had said, looking up from the piles of paper to find him standing in the doorway, hoping that he wasn't just going to ask for another walk so he could have yet another cigarette. You'd managed to get him down to three a day, which was a huge success, considering he had only relapsed recently, heavily abusing substances far worse than nicotine. It had been your agreement from the get go – you'd turn a blind eye to Sherlock smoking a limited amount of cigarettes as long as he stopped using otherwise.

However, it wasn't a cigarette he was asking for.

"Obviously my desire for substances mostly stems from how they affect the release of chemicals within my brain, chemicals that stimulate and influence the way I process my thoughts. They minimize the often overwhelming sensations I experience and are inhibiting my natural urge to deduce everything. They manage to calm my mind, a rather positive effect, which is why I have always relied on getting high if I needed a moment of peace. Can you follow me?"

Sherlock was speaking as rapidly as you were used to, not even allowing you the slightest opportunity of uttering a single word, "Of course you can follow me. You're not an idiot. I know you've done your research and I explained it to you plenty. My point is that I have been researching with the intention of finding something that will have a similar positive effect, in order to...not having to use."

"Let me guess", you replied with a sigh, processing what he was telling you, figuring quickly why he came forward with a request, "You're suggesting another experiment that I will have to be part of? To research and find out whether any theory you have might be correct?"

The detective nodded, striding over until he was standing next to the table, gaze drifting over what you were currently sorting, before giving it a dismissive look and focusing back on you.

"Yes. Exactly. I knew you would get it. I have... reconsidered that time when we... um...uh", he began almost awkwardly, all the sudden stuttering in a way very unlike him, "...when you touched me and when we were close... I felt good. In a way that might be comparable to a high. But I need to figure out what kind of effects it has on me from an analytical point of view to make sure I am right about my assumption."

So very clearly, Sherlock was suggesting you gave him another sexual favour – like once before in an experimental setting, needing to gather 'information' before he could confirm his assumption.

You had no doubt that a sexual high could be comparable to a drug high in some way – you wouldn't know though – and you would have liked to help him, but also considered it risky.

As much as you would have wanted him to find something, anything, to stop him from using ever again, you didn't know whether that would be the right way.

Leading Sherlock to another kind of addiction was risky, considering he was definitely prone to developing them, may it be his evident addiction to the thrill of his work, trying to keep up with and challenge the dangerous minds of criminals, or the substance abuse itself.

Besides that, you didn't want to put your friendship at risk and you were also not going to be some object for Sherlock to figure out whether sex could make him feel similar as a high on drugs.

The man sensed your initial reluctance, continuing his lengthy explanations, so typically like him, so casually like only Sherlock could as he seemed to have found his grip again.

"But at the same time I know it wouldn't be fair of me to continue requesting those things for my own gain. You are your own person and I would never try to guilt-trip you into something that could possibly set an end to my habitual substance abuse. I am very aware that I am the one owing you a favour for your help in the first place. I do not want to further strain our friendship with my demands, but I need you to know that... if I can share and research this with anyone, I would want it to be you."

You sighed. It was ridiculous. Ridiculous that you were even considering this in the first place.

Could you have refused Sherlock? Possibly. That's what you should have done anyway.

Did you want to refuse him? Certainly not.

Last time you had decided to work on an experiment with him, you had gotten to see a very different side of Sherlock, soft and submissive and gorgeous. You had kissed him, touched him, not to mention you had absolutely jerked him off too. You had praised and cherished him. Sherlock had sounded wonderful, looked beautiful, so raw and open and honest – you had definitely not forgotten the sight. And yes, you might have masturbated to the memory itself too.

The instance had been hard to forget.

But ever since then nothing else had happened between you two. For good reasons.

Sure, you had sought out his presence like you usually did. You were friends, comfortable around each other, spend time with one another, though Sherlock wasn't necessarily an affectionate person. He didn't hug, didn't cuddle. He certainly wasn't interested in being anything but friends.

So you had figured that first time was just going to be a one time thing, just an experiment for research, and tried your hardest to get over the fact that Sherlock didn't harvest feelings for you other than appreciation for the friendship you offered. Romantic and sexual attraction were a rarity for him, so you knew, and you had never pretended you might be the exception.

Nevertheless you couldn't help your own feelings. You liked Sherlock a lot.

It pained you to see the detective on edge and all sombre, to see him lost in drug addiction and throwing himself into dangerous case work, just to escape from his own mind for a moment. You hated to see him hurt and so bloody lonely.

Of course it also made your heart ache to know you were nothing more than a friend to Sherlock, so you should have been wiser, refusing to partake in the experiment, because you indeed weren't some test subject and this was a recipe for disaster, something that would likely hurt you and potentially harm him in the end – which you did not want.

But the idea of being close to him again, of being able to potentially help Sherlock get his mind off the drugs, to ensure he would be feeling good and okay, even if just for a little while. You couldn't quite escape your own track of thoughts, your own wants, your own conviction that you might the person meant to save Sherlock Holmes from himself.

"Do you want me to... uhh... you know?", you asked, followed by a very specific hand gesture, unable to ignore the certain awkwardness, you sitting there, Sherlock standing there, a mess of case and paper work all around, as you kept looking at each other.

There was no distinct expression on the detective's face save for slight expectation and a bit of redness on his cheeks, blushing as you suggested giving him another handjob.

"I have not determined any specifics", Sherlock admitted to you, though not in refusing, "Meaning... I don't know what I would want, what would work. The things you offered me last time have had a positive effect on me. I know that I want to be close to you. I don't know what would suffice."

You contemplated, gnawing on your lips like you always did when you were a bit nervous, breaking his gaze for a moment as your glance fleeted over the table, even though your head was undeniably full of Sherlock.

You were both only human. While the detective craved something to ease his mind, you craved the physical intimacy and emotional connection to him. Neither of you should have taken use of the other, but since you were both consenting adults, you allowed yourself to be weak and stupid.

"We'll try to figure it out then", you agreed, "Let me finish this first?"

"Of course", Sherlock nodded, "Don't be too long, Mrs Hudson has invited us downstairs for dinner and I was suggesting we watch an episode of that ridiculous show you like afterwards. Before we... um... do anything?"

Evident surprise must have crossed your face and for a moment you had a hard time searching for the right words, not knowing what to think. It was kind of him to suggest, almost domestic.

Of course, having dinner at Mrs Hudson's wouldn't be like dinner at an actual restaurant, but Sherlock didn't want to go anywhere public in his current state of body and mind, so soon after his relapse. His landlady made impeccable food and she was even went out of her way to make it for the two of you, so you were amenable.

"Yes to dinner. We don't have to necessarily watch the show though", was all you replied, "You'd never be able to shut your mouth during the episode anyway, making comments about it the entire time. That's why we never watch TV together, Sherlock.”

"I comment on everything and you usually don't seem to mind", Sherlock stated and the slightest sign of a smile snook onto his lips.

And you smiled right back at him, not needing to have the last word and returning to your paperwork, while Sherlock continued his usual pacing and casework.

Needless to say, any attempt of continuing this work was useless anyway, since you were entirely incapable of focusing on the stack of files before you, unable to shrug off your nervousness as your thoughts went spiralling about what you had just agreed on.

You eventually came to the conclusion, while you were brooding over payment checks from clients, this might actually make for a nice time together.

Having dinner with Mrs Hudson was nothing unusual for you two and always made for an enjoyable time. Sharing a bed wouldn't be weird, as you had done so before, if only for a couple of danger nights, with a distance appropriate for friends between you.

What was appropriate for friends by definition anyway? Hadn't that line already been crossed by the one sexual favour you had given him? If you followed through with this today, closing that distance between you once again and going even further than last time, every possible line you could think of was going to be blurred forever.

It was very hard to not think about the possibilities, not the consequences, but how far Sherlock would be willing to go with you, what he would allow and ask for.

You wondered whether Sherlock would want to kiss you again, whether he would want to give as much as receive, whether you would actually have sex and how it was going to be, whether he would ask you to stay afterwards and share the bed with you.

Even thinking about what your evening would entail made you a little nervous.

Thus you were more than grateful for having dinner beforehand, considering it was so much easier to keep your doubts at bay and just stop thinking so damn much as Mrs Hudson was bustling around the two of you. She was as chatty as always, kept you entertained with stories from her past and her good food was a welcome distraction. Once again, she expressed her gratitude over you getting Sherlock back on his feet and voiced how glad she was that her tenant was doing much better with your assistance, going on about how happy she was he had found an actual friend, even though she still heavily insinuated your romantic involvement with each other.

You neither denied nor confirmed the idea in the moment, finding it rather amusing how flustered Sherlock got at the mention, though not bothering to say a word about it either, and after helping Mrs Hudson with the dishes, the two of you eventually headed upstairs together again.

It was fair that she had her suspicions. Probably many people had.

After that last experiment and tonight, rightfully so.

You ended up taking turns in the bathroom.

Admittedly, you were more anxious than expected while in the shower, scrubbing yourself clean everywhere, not knowing what to expect, what you were going to do, if Sherlock would even want to touch your body or if he just required you to touch him – and you were just as nervous while Sherlock was in the shower, sitting on the bed, fidgeting with your glasses, scrolling mindlessly through your phone as you kept thinking about what you wanted the man to do to you and more so how you were planning on bringing him pleasure.

If he'd let you.

You had dressed down to what you usually wore to bed, a loose t-shirt and sweatpants, being so bold as to forgo underwear altogether, curious how Sherlock would react to such a clear proposal, if he took note of it at all. Glasses still perched atop your nose, you turned your head when you heard the door to the bathroom open again, eyes following Sherlock as he came back out to join you on the bed, shrugging off his housecoat to reveal his choice of pyjamas, not so different from what you had decided on wearing.

"So, what did you have on your mind?", you dared to ask again, courageously, placing your phone on the bedside table, before turning further to Sherlock, who was now just sitting there, right next to you, neither seeming expectant nor nervous by any means, "I know you said specifics weren't clear, but I'm sure you have a fair amount of imagination."

"That is correct", the detective agreed, "I came to the conclusion that perhaps it would be wise to... begin like we did last time."

You shot him a smile. "So, you'd like to kiss me?", you asked, arching your eyebrows at him, hoping that Sherlock would take the bait and just go for it. There was nothing he could've done wrong. The thought of getting to kiss him again made you awfully excited.

"I'd like you to kiss me, yes." Though seeming slightly reluctant and reserved, his words were clear. He wanted you to kiss him.

And you definitely were going to kiss him, but most importantly you wanted to give it time. There was no need to rush and hopefully, neither of you were going anywhere any time soon.

So you reached out and grabbed Sherlock's hand. Instead of climbing him like a tree and slipping onto his lap right away, kissing him like your life depended on it, you were deciding for the two of you to take this slow, beginning with something as simple and innocent as touch.

Perhaps this would allow Sherlock to gather information better, how he responded to affection, how he responded to you initiating, how the simplest things would influence him or perhaps how they wouldn't. Whether it would leave him hungry for more, driving him mad with anticipation, or whether it wouldn't do anything for him at all.

This was an experiment after all. Might as well just do some experimenting.

You slotted your fingers together, marvelling how your hand fit into his so smoothly, so perfectly, and pulled them apart again, letting your fingertips dance over the expanse of his hand, tracing those long, skilled fingers with simple fascination. Fingers you had watched so often, whether it was them dancing over the fret of his violin, preparing samples for his microscope, picking up evidence at a crime scene. Wonderful and careful hands.

Eventually linking them into one another again, you gave his hand a gentle squeeze and looked at him, finding him glancing back at you. Of course you tried to read Sherlock's expression right away. There was some curiosity, he seemed attentive and receptive, the grip of his hand tightening instinctively, a response. He was just looking at you, observing, perhaps contemplating.

Your own heart was beating a little faster, sensations heightened by the sheer intimacy of the moment, time seemingly standing still all around you, so you couldn't exactly pinpoint the moment when you decided to move further. Perhaps it was the synapses in your brain finally snapping, perhaps it was just the need to break the tension that had come up between the two of you, perhaps it was a mutual silent agreement to do this all of the sudden.

Whatever it was, you leant into Sherlock, who met you halfway, pressing your lips together, responding to one another immediately.

As your mouths slotted together, a rather gentle brush of lips at first, you could feel how the grip on your hand was instinctively tightening, holding onto you more, in fear you might be slipping away any second again. But you certainly did not, would not, wrapped up in Sherlock's taste and warmth and his smell, licking along the seam of his lips, sliding your tongues together as he let you claim his mouth, as you let him explore.

You didn't know what had gotten you so hungry all of the sudden, but you knew you needed more of Sherlock. Speaking of addiction. So you decided to get more of him, who seemed compliant to your every move, absorbing every little bit, every touch, you allowed him.

Even those moments apart, when both of you had to catch your breaths, small gasps of air between you, he was quiet and observant. He let you shift around, slipping onto his lap again, greeting you with another sweet kiss after having you perched on his thighs.

Reaching up, you gently cupped Sherlock's face in your hands, tracing his jawline, those high cheekbones, before sliding them all the way up into his dark curls, tugging on his hair.

The reaction was imminent, the kiss broken immediately, a groan slipping from Sherlock's mouth, leaving the two of you a bit startled at the sudden response.

"I need you to do the exact thing again", the detective requested then, his tone demanding and firm, before smacking your mouths together again, a kiss hot and downright desperate for more, and you gladly obliged, fingers tangled in his locks, giving them another pull, which caused a reaction not so different from the first time.

Apparently praising wasn't the only thing that got Sherlock going.

So you continued your eager advances, seeing how far you could take this, brushing through his curls before gently tugging on them again, letting Sherlock's moan break the kiss, tilting his head back by his hair and baring his throat.

"How are you doing this?", the man groaned, almost hissed when you began mouthing at his neck, "I don't understand how you can have this effect on me."

But there was no explanation you could have possibly given him. Perhaps you just clicked with Sherlock and that was why.

You only knew how addicted you already were, how you couldn't get enough of the man's taste, the warmth of his body, the sweet noises from his throat and the thought that perhaps he really wanted you too.

Making sure to not bruise the skin, you kept nipping at the expanse of his throat, pulling on his hair times and times again, dragging more moans out of him. Your name passed his lips after a while, the softest sound, then a "Can we stop for a moment?"

Raising you head again to look at Sherlock – a delectable sight, slight blush on his cheek, lips swollen red from kissing, pupils dilated with need, a dreamy expression on his face – and waited for however long was necessary.

"Are you okay, Sherl?", you asked immediately, hoping you hadn't made him uncomfortable.

Apparently he just wanted to elaborate though.

"I am more than okay. I just need to tell you something", Sherlock replied, holding onto you by your hips, a steady grip, "As you have... um... figured, I respond quite heavily to your advances. I am puzzled by the effect you have on me, because I was always very convinced that I simply was not interested in things of a more physical nature. But you keep kissing and touching me and I'm not entirely sure what it means that my body reacts like this."

Quite passively, you continued to stroke the back of his head, listening to him as attentively as you could, trying to ignore your own arousal. You were going to work through this with Sherlock, not questioning his worries or uncertainty for a single moment, allowing him to take the time he needed in order to understand himself and what he wanted and most of all, why he did.

Of course, you had wondered before and you were still asking yourself the same question now. Had Sherlock even had sex with anyone ever? Everything about his words and his behaviour was indicating he hadn't. But he didn't seem to be all too nervous, instead content and collected.

Maybe you were even more nervous than him.

"You're turned on, if I had to guess. Which I find really flattering. And it's more than okay that you're feeling like this. I want you to enjoy this experience, so please don't let the unknown hold you back", you advised with a soft smile, "I like you, Sherlock. I enjoy being around you and doing this with you... it turns me on too."

"You know I don't experience and approach things like most would do. Sex has never been the focus of my interest, so I... I have never done this. I have done research, but I'm not going to know exactly what to do", Sherlock admitted, eyes flicking over your face, the look of consideration, as if he were searching for the right words, "You're... absolutely endearing. It's nice to have you around and I trust you. And I want to do this with you."

"So do I", you responded, unable to stop the smile slipping to your lips, thinking it was lovely how Sherlock entrusted you with his mind and body, how he wanted to share this moment with you and no one else. "We can sure figure out what you like best", you added, "Would you want me to take the lead?"

The man seemed to consider your question, although you were partially convinced that he was more so enjoying the quiet of the moment, your fingers brushing over his scalp, basking in the closeness, though simple affection usually was something Sherlock didn't like. Not with anyone other than you apparently.

"Would you want to participate in penetration? If so, I suppose I have no clear knowledge of which position would serve best, but I am interested in learning. Since you are the one with more experience, I find it only logical you are the leading part", he spoke up eventually.

"Fine with me", you hummed, "I have no preference either, but I find it quite comfortable on your lap, so perhaps we can work around that?"

Admittedly, your wet dreams always tended to drift in a direction similar to this. There was something submissive about Sherlock, something that made you want to take him apart, lay him out on the bed, mount him and fuck him silly until he was a desperate mess begging to come, and you were sure it would have been a beautiful sight to have him this way.

Since you were already sitting on his lap, your crotches pressed together, hands tangled in his hair, seconds away from bringing your lips to his throat again, you wouldn't mind it sweet and gentle either, letting him explore all you had, letting him consume all you offered, letting him take his time to harvest the information he needed.

Maybe one day he would like to take the reins, but you couldn't really imagine him as the dominant part just yet.

You knew exactly how you would take the lead, how you would ride Sherlock all the way to ecstasy, until the brilliant and smart detective would fail to find the proper words and fall apart under you. Oh, how you wanted to hold him close, wanted your bodies entangled and conjoined, wanted to be able to sense and enjoy all of him.

It was a silent and natural agreement between you, so you figured as Sherlock's skilled hands sought out the hem of your shirt.

"I'm afraid you have to stop touching me for a moment", he mused and went on to gently pry the thin shirt off your body as you complied. After all you had been together for all kinds of weird occasions and sharing rooms, you had been close to him before but never quite so exposed, not in a way like this. Never undressed for him to see or touch.

In comparison, you had seen Sherlock bare plenty of times before, naked and vulnerable, so stripping him out of his shirt in return was by no means unfamiliar. There was something about this level of intimacy though, the sensuality of his touch on your skin that already made you shudder with need, winding you up with anticipation.

It was Sherlock then, who so carefully let his lips ghost over the expanse of your neck, exploring bit by bit, spreading gentle kisses, teeth grazing the skin and you supposed he was not entirely distracted from making deductions just yet – how else would he have possibly figured how to strike a nerve within you?

Your hands wound up in the dark curls again, playing with strands of hair, tugging on them, using them to pull Sherlock's head backwards as the advances on your sensitive skin were too much to handle. You too were soon moaning, panting hard, a pretty rosy colour to your cheeks.

"I find it very enjoyable when you pull on my hair", Sherlock admitted to you and while he had previously held his hands very still, he couldn't continue to resist and began touching you more, exploring your body with diligence. He had never touched you or potentially any other person like this, so excessively. If you thought about it, no one ever really had been so thorough as him, trying to map out every inch, every crease, every little mark. It was as if he was memorizing you, cataloguing. Careful with you. Mesmerized by you.

You didn't mind his advances, had never been on the self-conscious side but under the impression you weren't really sporting an exceptionally beauty. If anything you were ordinary, and still... this man looked at you, touched you with utmost adoration, curiosity, interest. Like he couldn't simply get enough from you. Like he didn't want to ever stop again.

"I find most of you very enjoyable", he added.

"Likewise", you smiled at him, hands busy stroking his nape, his upper back, pale shoulders, skin flush with heat under your touch, "I suppose you figured out what's getting me going."

"I think it's fascinating", Sherlock mused, "Because I could feel your pulse quickening and your body tensing up when I began kissing your neck. I imagine these are the exact responses you could notice on me when you tug on my hair. It's fascinating how our bodies respond so impulsively to a variety of triggers in such different ways and..."

Not wanting to be rude, but also not wanting to let Sherlock ramble about the creation of personal preferences, you quickly shut him up with another kiss, sealing your lips together promptly, giving a sharp tug to his curls. It certainly earned you a moan of surprise and Sherlock seemed not entirely displeased about your decision, hands returning to your waist to keep you steady, maybe wanting to prevent you from slipping away, afraid of losing what he was just learning to enjoy, kissing hungrily and with the kind of fervour one didn't really expect him to have, every bit of what he had wanted to say forgotten.

Your mind ran quite blank too. You knew that you wanted and desired Sherlock, pressing further up to him, could feel heat pooling in your groin and knew that you were already aching for him within the restraints of your sweatpants, becoming painfully very aware of how you had decided to forego underwear altogether, meaning it was just a bit of fabric between you.

Starting to rock your hips atop Sherlock's lap, because you couldn't hold yourself back anymore, you figured you weren't the only one getting aroused, feeling his hardness trapped beneath the remaining clothing, soft groans leaving both your mouths as you ground down on his bulge, creating a friction that left neither of you unaffected.

"I need you, Sherl", you moaned against his lips, throwing the decision to take this slow out the window, too far gone at this point, wanting nothing more than to feel the man inside of you and ride him to the breaking point. You were so horny you almost whined as you moved atop of him and your obvious neediness seemed to render Sherlock speechless altogether, his gaze just as clouded with lust as he simply stared at you and you lost yourselves into each other, chests heaving hard, bodies melting together.

All he gave was a nod of consent and you started beaming with unrestrained joy, slipping off Sherlock's lap to come kneel on the bed, hands drifting up to the waistband of his pants. "Are you sure this is okay with you?", you still decided to ask. Even though the man had seemed consenting before, you'd rather have him be comfortable too.

Whereas you would have expected a snappy comment or an entire mass of words breaking loose over you, Sherlock remained rather quiet, nodding, the smallest 'Yes' slipping past his lips.

He seemed entirely enticed and you made sure to keep on looking at him, pulling the soft material down by the waistband and stripping him bare, carelessly throwing the clothing aside, once you had wrestled it down his legs.

To have him so exposed and naked before you was a sight to take in, letting yourself simply look at him for just a moment, your hands rubbing over those lean thighs.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous", you uttered, fingers gliding along the inner sides, brushing over wisps of hair, all the way up to his crotch, the hardening cock, taking the member into your hand, watching him twitch and grow in size. You would be lying if you said you hadn't thought about his cock after the first time, never been able to forget the sight, wishing to feel all of him inside.

"I...um... how do we do this?", Sherlock quietly asked, redness burning on his cheeks as his eyes were fixed on the sight before him, "How would you want me?"

"You lay down on your back, get comfortable and let me do the work", you advised and gave him a quick wink, watching Sherlock settle down almost immediately after your advise, more than eager. And wasn't it just the most perfect sight, his lean body atop the sheets, skin reddened with small blotches, traces of his arousal, his cock raging hard in the grasp of your hand, dark curls bedded on the pillow, dreamy look in his eyes as you looked at one another.

"There's... uh... lube and condoms in the bedside drawer", Sherlock muttered, like he didn't quite want to admit to it.

You shot him a pleased, but surprised expression. "Did you plan for this?", you wondered, reaching over to fetch anything you'd need from the drawer, "Or do you just keep them in your bedroom all the time?"

"I was certain that I had at least a seventy-eight percent chance you wouldn't refuse and since I have considered all possibilities that almost meant including the accomplishment of a sexual encounter, I thought it was best to be prepared just in case. As I have however opened up to you that I have no experience with sexual interactions, so no, I don't keep them here all the time, I've purchased them for this purpose... recently", Sherlock answered, his nervousness evidently easing again as he managed to speak mostly unaffected as he always did, the kind of rationality not unusual by any means.

"78 percent? You did the math and all, didn't you?", you grinned, using the moment to slide your own sweatpants off your hips, revealing your full nakedness to the man, whose eyes remained on you, widening, darkening, looking up and down your body, trying to seemingly capture every single little detail of you, lips parted and his pink tongue slipping through as he admired you.

At a lack for words, Sherlock just nodded, watching you return to him and slump down atop his lap again. You gave him a reassuring smile, reaching for those fine and skilled hands, placing them on your body as Sherlock remained a little taken aback, probably slightly overwhelmed with the sight and sensations alone. Though once he dared to begin touching you again, he got this look of fascination on his face, a spark in his eyes, tender touches on your thighs.

"Would you like to help me prepare?", you asked, knowing full well that with a curiosity like Sherlock's he would likely not refuse.

"I understand that it will make this more pleasurable for you, so yes, I think I'd like to", he agreed and you canted your hips forward, towards him, allowing Sherlock to reach out to you, trailing his fingers down your body, lower, across the expanse of your belly before slipping between your thighs, no doubt finding what they were searching for.

A heavy shudder surged through your body when he did, breath hitching in your throat as you felt fingertips circle your entrance. You knew the breach would initially feel unusual, not having had a partner in a long time and not being an avid user of sex toys either, but god, how you ached for him to touch you, how you wanted to just feel him. After adjusting his hand into a comfortable position for the both of you and slicking fingers up with lube, Sherlock slid one into you so easily that all worries were just leaving you at once.

You couldn't stop a moan from leaving your lips, even just one finger in, and wondered how much research Sherlock had actually done as you found yourself arching into his touch. It wasn't clumsy by any means, if a little more careful.

There was a pleasant tingle pooling low in your stomach, your arousal rising to indescribable heights in thorough interest of getting fucked, and your mind went blank when he pushed another finger into you, gently spreading you open with a passion.

"Fuck, Sherl, feels so good", you groaned, looking down at the man, who so gently and kindly fingered you open, like he wasn't doing this for the first time, like he wasn't a stranger to this at all, "Can't wait to have your cock inside of me."

While Sherlock did not seem to be one for dirty talk, remaining mostly quiet and fixed on you, he definitely seemed pleased with your reaction, urged on to continue his advances, fingers already sinking in deep and lord, he had these long and wonderfully skilled fingers that were certainly capable of finding the sweet spot. If you let him continue, he was no doubt going to make you cum like this. You were so obsessed with the feel of him already, bloody hell, his fingers alone, pressing further into his touch and technically begging to be fucked.

Trying to keep your right mind though, you thought it was best to request Sherlock to stop, knowing that as soon as you were going to ride his dick, it would all be over for you anyway.

The small break did you well as he withdrew his fingers again, not leaving you out of his sight for a moment. You shuffled back down on the man's lap, making sure to prepare Sherlock just as much, rolling a condom over his raging arousal, before drizzling a bit of lube on him, coaxing another grunt from him as you rubbed him up and down.

You weren't sure who was more gone on the other – yourself, cock-hungry and needy, positioning the tip of his hardness against your hole, already going crazy at the slightest nudge, or Sherlock, watching you with a dreamy and blissful look on his face, blushing hard, lips parted and breath stuck in his throat in anticipation as you eventually sank down on his cock, taking him all in, slowly.

Bodies combined, becoming one, groans and panting immediately merged into one as well.

"God, Sherl...", you mewled, filled out so sweetly. It felt just right. You began moving once used to the stretch of his length, fully sheathed within you, and tried to keep your gazes locked, save for taking in the entire sight of Sherlock once in a while – skin flush from arousal and the heat of the moment, his eyes attentive and almost adoring, full blown with desire, his chest heaving and sinking hard, hands almost trembling as he let them skim over your waist, your thighs and all he could reach.

"This feels very good", the detective acknowledged, only occasionally and shyly rocking his hips in time with your movements, seeming unsure and perhaps a bit overwhelmed with the sensations, "You feel very good."

You couldn't quite respond anything that would make sense and at a loss for words simply continued to move atop him, supporting your slow motions with hands perched flat against the man's stomach.

There was no need to talk about what was going on, neither for you nor for Sherlock, as unspoken truths were shared between you two, how well your bodies fit together, how good you felt and how much admiration you had for each other. You hadn't expected it to be like that, so intimate and fulfilling – to be honest, you hadn't even had expectations when it came to Sherlock anymore.

There was always this element of surprise about him, something unpredictable, and fairly said you hadn't even expected to get into this situation with him in the first place.

But there was this amount of comfort and trust that exuded Sherlock in the moment, being vulnerable with you, submitting to you, an unusual innocence sticking to him. It made you feel possessive of him and even more so, protective.

Though he never failed to surprise you.

While he had previously held back moving too much under you or daring to explore your body with more bold touches, he seemed to warm up to the idea of intimacy and sex, for that matter. Astonished by the suddenness of his motion, you couldn't hold back a gasp when Sherlock pushed himself into a seating position, sliding his arms around your waist to keep you steady on his lap, his cerulean eyes fixed onto you with curiosity as he observed your reaction, as you continued to ride him with long and deep strokes, one hand shooting up to support yourself on Sherlock's shoulder, the other drifting into his hair.

You swore you could hear him cuss under his breath, once tugging on his dark curls again, but since you were entirely overcome with a mass of different sensations and emotions, it really could have been anything he muttered. And all the same, you found it didn't matter.

Your mouths slid together again, tongues finding each other once more, and you rocked even harder into him, pulling on his hair over and over, wanting to elicit more sweet sounds from him, being rewarded with the most desperate whimper.

You were completely lost in one another, something you hadn't quite awaited, but very well welcomed. That was the thing about Sherlock, always seeming so put together, so closed off and shielded from the outside world, so focused on facts and information and logic - and yet he was far from all that. You only knew all that because he let you see.

Sherlock was sensitive, could be pried apart as easily as made whole again, he lost himself in the smallest things so quickly, searching for things to ease his thoughts and mind, prone to getting addicted to them. Emotions overwhelmed him and that's why he refused most human interaction.

But he wasn't refusing this, wasn't refusing you, because there was an unspoken trust between you. You didn't know where that trust stemmed from or how Sherlock truly felt about you, but this wouldn't be happening if he weren't convinced of you being trustworthy.

On the cusp of pleasure, you were both entirely gone, and all that mattered were the raw sensations, bodies sliding together, obvious heightened emotions pouring out between you.

Head buried in the crook of your neck, Sherlock was breathing hard, moaning into you skin, shaking in your hold as you continued to tug on his hair, causing him to twitch and whine and crumble apart under you.

You spoke the sweetest praises, words mangled with your own moans, your thighs trembling but still riding him with fervour, though you could sense your stamina failing you, could feel yourself being so close to the edge by the way your nerves tingled within your core, the way pleasure heightened immensely with each thrust, something building up, and yet you were only able to let go as Sherlock himself toppled over.

His entire body went tense, not to say rigid, tightening his hold on you like he was afraid of losing you altogether, a moaning and twitching mess as he was overcome by his own pleasure.

"You're doing so good, Sherl, so good for me", you found yourself whispering and it must have been a combination of all things going on, Sherlock falling apart and pulsating inside of you, keeping you seated on his cock with a tight hold, and being on the absolute verge of sexual excitement, that made your own orgasm hit, causing you take him exceptionally deep with one last thrust, rocking out waves of pleasure and arousal.

"Oh, Sherl, my Sherlock", you let out a heavy sigh, coming back to your senses fast, while the man still seemed a little absent, clutching onto you tightly, face pressed to your shoulder, where you could feel laboured breathing and an unexpected wetness against his skin.

You knew they were tears, but didn't mention it, stroking the back of his head with the comfort that Sherlock just needed, comfort that he often refused or wouldn't allow himself to get. Perhaps it wasn't even sadness, but relief washing over him, the sudden overwhelming feel of orgasming.

While his previous responsiveness to affections and especially praising had fired up a curiosity within you, it was this specific moment, just holding Sherlock so close and having him so vulnerable after just having sex with him, that caused your heart to swell as well as ache, mind heavy and clouded with so many thoughts and sensations rushing in.

You couldn't help but feel for him. For his sadness and loneliness and desperation, all things Sherlock would never admit to having, but all deeply rooted within him.

And you couldn't help but feel love. A love that shouldn't be, because that was not what you were to Sherlock. It was not the point of your care for Sherlock, it was not what his older brother was paying you for. It should not be the reason behind your thorough protectiveness of the man, behind you caring, behind... this and all you did for him. But it was. You couldn't shut it off.

Yes, you were Sherlock's caretaker and this shouldn't be happening.

You had already crossed the line of sentimentality and any professionalism by becoming his friend so early on. Any decision you had ever made for Sherlock's sake was painted by your friendship to him and therefore not logical but emotional.

It would be surprising to none that you had developed this love for the man and everything he was. Feelings couldn't be helped, of course not, and you doubted people close to the two of you were unaware of how much you actually liked him.

In the end, it wouldn't matter anyway.

Sherlock didn't feel and love like most people did, not to say that he couldn't, but the way he was and would always be simply differed from the mass – so it would be wise of you to expect nothing and accept things as they were.

And whether Sherlock Holmes could ever feel the same or something similar as you did for him, would perhaps forever remain a question unanswered.

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