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fictionalslvr · 7 months

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SYNOPSIS: Leon is the most devoted young man you know, and what you always wanted, is to ruin ruin, turn him into a complete sinful mess. And finally, you got that.

PAIRING: Churchboy¡Leon x implied F!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.110k

WARNINGS: CORRUPTION KINK MAJOR! Religious themes!! Sub and whiny¡Leon. Handjob. Descriptions of male anatomy. On the church.

NOTES: After weeks, getting sick and everything, the part two is finally here! This work can be read alone, but there is a part one if you want to see. This was only possible due to the dear @navstuffs! She helped me a lot and she deserves all the thanks for this, thank you Nav!

At the beginning of the world, it was only good things. The literal Eden Garden at dispose, offering just the best of the fruits, the nature in contact with the skin, everything was pure. Until it wasn’t anymore. Leon always thought about how perfect the life could be before the sin, before the luxury of the human beings, in fact, his mind was driven into those thoughts, not fully understanding what could made Eve tempt and change the whole world to the way he know now, he did not understood how she could replace a life of trust, love and literal heaven, in trade with what? A miserable life forever. Maybe it was the idea of being forbidden that got her so allured. The rule was simple, not to eat the apple, and was that’s what got her so ecstatic, Eve could have everything around her, but that fruit was calling her, whispering her name in the most blissful winds ever created, the alluring idea of something being restricted by God himself, called her up on her mind. What could be so different about that fruit? Why was she so special that even God didn’t want to let them have contact with her?

Leon couldn’t understand the meaning behind that forbidden fruit, for him, it was just an easy task to follow his creator's order. Anyway, he didn’t want to face his choleric state, nor to lose all his privileges after creation as the first God miracle, the man. That is until, you appeared on his mind, occupying the only space being used to drive him withered.

Soon, the fruit was replaced, not just a simple apple anymore, but you. You, and that voluptuous body, cute giggle and face builded by an angel, he could appreciate you for hours, if this wasn’t wrong, he didn’t want to be sinful. But just as Eve, your mischievous smile and alluring voice called for him, whispering his name in the depth of the world to keep him distracted from his initial objective, which was to serve his God, you were the luxury itself, right in front of him. There was no apple, just you, that deep into your mind, craved for Leon, and he, just wanted a bite of that pleasure, for being a sinful human as the others too, to see why humans fail so much, you were the perfect representation of a sin to him, the kind of woman that makes him fall on his knees and ask for his forgiveness, that wasn’t his normal state, it can’t be. Leon never saw himself so deprived, so perverted and sick like that.

From days now, you’ll be haunting his mind with unholy thoughts. Leon was in a dangerous line because of you, either ready to fall directly into a painful post life, with no way back, right into the hell for being such a pervert for you, or, resisting to the forbidden fruit and achieving a life of miracles to the end. Poor young man would wake up with a flustered rosy face, sweaty forehead, heavy breathing and surroundings still confused. He could swear you were in his dream, not in a good way at all. He would jump off of the bed, getting on his knees to the floor, hands gripping in each other to make it up for his sinful thoughts, mumbling his sorrows and asking for God help to “return him to his normal”, which never changed, he was always there, waiting patiently to give in and taste the sweet melody of the intimacy between such a thing as sex, but that was restricted due to the fear of a miserable hell. Leon felt filthy, the most dirty man walking on Earth, wearing an catholic third around his neck, gripping into it as his life depends of that, mumbling the God name as he could felt that weird sensation next to his crotch growing more and more painful, he didn’t knew what that is, but it hurt, it felt wrong. Plastered tears glued on his cheeks, he felt so false, so wrong and yet, so good.

“Oh my Jesus, forgive us for our sins. Save us from the fires of hell. Lead all souls into heaven, especially those in the most need of your mercy. Amen.” The words felt so blank, so empty and for the first time, Leon felt like there was no salvation in his actions.

He’s sure that God is looking down at him, thinking that his child is lost, already too wrapped by the Devil’s hands. He would be laughing at him, seeing how pathetic he is, the image he once had for his religion is ruined. He is ruined. Slowly becoming the nasty sinner in his own eyes, there’s nothing that could save him anymore. With his mind slowly descending, he knew that you were the cause of this, you were his luxury, his apple and he was Eve in a kind of way, now, he understand her, he gets that feeling, that he want to have a taste of something forbidden, to know what life truly feels like.

Even though he’s becoming a sinner, his heavy footsteps were echoing through the hallways, the devil himself walking into the church to play pretend with his subordinates sinners, he had a head towards the ground, ashamed for his thoughts, not wanting to face the consequences for that. With another preaching coming closer, he was ready to watch it, with his conscience heavy and heartbeat unusual. But a half closed door got his attention, the before innocent eyes widened as he was more curious than ever before, peeking through the door, what Leon found got his knees weak.

He remembered when he was young, he looked deeply into the priest eyes and did an promise, “not to fall in temptation”, he knew all the words correctly, the way his eyes lit up in that powerful presence of God, how he felt protected from all the dangers of the world for a fraction of second. But the danger is not carrying a weapon, the danger it’s the damn weapon, disguised as a woman, you. Under the dim light of the room, your soft silk dress slowly falling from your shoulders, he could swear your skin glistened with the sun, like you’re shining. The texture of your skin must be the most perfect skin to touch in his mind, it seems so delicate and smooth, not to mention the sweet scent of your body, the natural scent is enough to drive into the most unhinged person ever. Leon was flabbergasted, his jaw open as he almost drooled over the sight, he knows he shouldn’t be watching you change to the preaching, nor even be desiring you like a dog in heat in search for an mate, a gasp escape from his throat, forcing him to put his hands on top of his mouth to shut him off. A faint sound could be heard by you, the creaky floor behind the half open door, plus, a very low gasp being muffled. With only your white bustier and suspender belt, your head turned towards the door, and you saw a dirty blond hair swung in the air, hiding behind it, and that made you bite your cheeks from inside, holding a giggle, you could recognize him anywhere, silly Leon.

Acknowledged of his presence, you decided to put on a show for him. Playing with the straps of your bustier, letting it loose on your shoulders to show him what he’s losing. At this point, you couldn’t imagine you caught him sneaking on you changing, something might've changed on that angel to turn him into that. The teasing only proved your point, you could hear the tender sound of his desperate voice he sounded like a puppy whining, incapable to hold the instincts of seeing something so attractive for the first time, hands squeezed together and eyes in awe as he let out faint heavy breaths.

—”Come here, Leon.” He felt dizzy immediately. You saw him, you caught him red handed while spying you.

Looking like an abandoned dog, eyes on the floor, hands behind his back and short footsteps, he got inside, closing the door with your instruction. He couldn’t look at you, how could he look at you while you wear something so profane as this outfit you’re wearing right now? But he was already looking anyway, this wouldn’t make any difference, he just likes to pretend he was not doing something so wrong like that. Not the innocent Leon, he couldn’t commit his first sin with you, no way.

—”You know that spying is not a good thing, right?” Your feet on the ground made a stomp sound, indicating you were getting closer to him.

With his eyes hidden by his bangs, this was a bad situation that he chose to be into. He bit his lower lip, a wave of guilt all over his body and made him feel even more weaker. Leon nodded with his head, not even able to whisper a single word for you, just to show how embarrassed he is. The embarrassment was not only because he got caught, but of what his image will turn after this, what you will do to him. Your hot aura was invading his space and making him nervous, so much that he trembled like a leaf.

—”I asked you a question.” Your tone got a bit more stern, and you heard Leon suck a sob in between his little crooked teeths. You loved how he was not perfect at all, he was not going to stay forever innocent, you knew that, but you wanted to be the reason behind that. Leon is a grown man, he can make decisions for himself and answer a simple question.

—”Y-Yes! I…I know.”

Pressing him against the closet cabinet, he let out a gasp escape again. Your hands were behind him, dangerously close to touching his body in a way never before. Leon eyes dragged to yours, locking to see that flame in your pupils that he feared to face for so long.

—”You look so desperate, like you never saw a body before.”

—”I-I…never…” The words slipped out from his tongue, he didn’t have any control on his actions nor words at the moment, he was only listening to you and watching you. Your ferocious desire was filling his senses too, tormenting his poor mind. You only chuckled from his words gently, but he felt offended.

He must look so pathetic close to you, you must have plenty of experience and he…he had never seen his own body before, for him, it was wrong to see his own body, he believed that this would make him some kind of sinner. But seeing you, so alluring and bashing your eyelashes so innocently like a doll.

—”Haven't you ever seen a naked body before?”

The silence was his answer, he looked away bashfully, scared to admit the truth. Scared to look silly in front of you, to make a fool of himself. The look on his face said everything, and by the way he’s fidgeting his fingers anxiously, you didn’t need a proper answer. You understood, pressing your almost bare body against his just to hear him gulp audible, the thing was, you could feel a pent up dick hitting your inner thigh, he was so hard from just seeing your body this way, you wonder how he could be so sensitive this way. Just getting closer, made his whole face flushed.

—”You’re so hard already, Leon.” You snickered, looking down to watch his cock stir on his pants, underneath your skin. His eyes were wide open, he looked down with you, confused, tilting his head to the side like a puppy.

—”Hard? Is this what is hurting me?”

—”Hurting you? I’m guessing you never touched your body before to not know this is a boner.” Leon bit his lips again, this time humming in desperation and his hands were supported on the cabinet behind him.

—”Explain to me, please.”

You were surprised. He never really touched himself before? That would be even better than you thought. With a tender sigh, your hands hovered over his chest, slowlying pestering all the way down to his hips.

—”It’s hard to explain, but I can help you to get rid of the…pain, as you say.”

His eyes lit up, Leon whimpered at the touch of your hands on him, the first touch like this on his, the very first one, is yours. Just like you did in his dreams, but you were like a devil cornering him, wrapping him in your claws. At the feel of his cock twitching in his pants, he needed to get rid of that sensation, it was weird, so he nodded at your offer, agreeing to being ruined forever.

The next thing Leon knew, is that he was embraced by you fully this time. His rear resting on the low closet cabinet, his hands were roaming over your tender shoulders, searching for any support not to fall on his knees in front of you. Leon was ruined, there was no turning back from now on, not when his throat let the most obscene sounds your ears could be graced with, whiny soft pants making him look pathetic and adorable at the same time, the mix of feelings messing up with his mind and turning him into this. The way your hands were exploring his body so indecently for the first time is awkward, and yet, brings him to the edge of a just discovered emotion.

Your hands felt all over his body, exploring every inch as that was your last chance to show him the sin you could be. In fact, that could be a one lifetime opportunity, and you needed to get him addicted to make sure he would crawl back to you, begging for more of that thing only you can bring him to. With the way you looked, your eyes felt sore, like you just saw a golden flash in them so abruptly, that was, seeing Leon's dick for the first time. It was…cute, but desirable, that's for sure. The reddened tip looked untouched as the rest of his body, he was not thick, but he was considerably lengthy, you felt the urge to kiss it, tuck him inside your mouth, push him to the back of your throat and send him to heaven early as he wanted, but not in a glorious way. Leon couldn't even look into your face anymore, everything was blurry, but every single touch got him shivering, anyway, he agreed to that, and regret is not a word that could describe how he was right now. Deciding to have some pity on the man and take things slow to be just a bit passionate once, your hands pestered all the way down to finally touch his cock, watching as it stirred into your hands so adorably.

Leon's whimpers were everything you could ask for, he hid his face on the crook of your neck, nibbling your skin ever so gracefully to try to shut him, but he was loud, VERY loud. It was his first time being touched, you couldn't blame him. You started to touch his length, going up and down as you felt his hips jerking forward into you, showing that he wanted (needed) more. Turning your hands into a cupping one, you started to masturbate him at your own pace, taking his time as you heard his reactions, if you got quicker, he could get so much louder than before.

—”You don't want the whole church to hear us now, do you?” Your voice didn't need to get loud for him to listen, the distance was enough for a whisper in his ear that made him moan.

He knew it was wrong, and that anyone could hear him moaning like a bitch in heat for you, but he couldn't care less now. He had lost his innocence and faith, there's nothing else to lose. And yet, he kept his tone loud, he couldn't lower them in any way, everything felt so overstimulating that he felt like he was going to explode at any time.

Leon was trembling in your arms, you could see how he was holding onto you, crying, mumbling something incoherent as the same time your shoulders felt wet. A mixture of tears and saliva that escaped from his inside cheeks. You kept teasing him, some times, pressing his tip until you heard him whining and his trimmed nails pressed against you, marking you so slightly it wouldn't last long. His legs were wide open for you, and yet, he was almost closing them, if it wasn't for your body in the middle of them, the proximity allowed your breath to hit on his face, and you, to see his godly constructed face contorted in pleasure for you, everything you asked for.

Since he was a beginner at this kind of situation, he wouldn't last long, you knew that. Just a few pumps were enough to drive him crazy. As soon as his arms involved your back, his teeths into your shoulders and his moans got even more whiny (which you didn't think was possible), you knew he was close to cummming. Leon's hands tapped your back, he was mumbling and mumbling something non stop, and it took you a few seconds to understand

—”W-What….what is this?! I feel like…I'm…going to burst! Please!” His pleas were adorable, he didn't know what was coming, but he was begging for it.

—”It's completely normal, Leon…”

You soothed him, a gentle moment that kept you moving around his overwhelmed dick until he was fumbling and hyperventilating, he was a mess of heavy breaths, whimpers, grunts and every sound possible he could muster at the moment.

It didn't take long to see Leon's soul escaping from his body. His eyes were as wide as possible, the blue orb in the middle almost submerged on that white ocean of his eyes. Leon gripped into you, his legs failing for the first time, his toes curling up together and his head thrown back as he moaned in a strangle of breath. That's until the long ropes of cum made contact with your hands, escaping to drip on the cabinet wood underneath him. Took him long enough to stop seeing stars, his eyes drizzled off to somewhere distant until he could finally look into yours, to see your big grin and blush like a silly.

—”I…is it wrong to…ask for more?”

#fanfic #fictionalslvr #smut #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon x fem reader #leon x reader #leon x you #leon kennedy smut #leon smut #sub leon kennedy

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honeyydrunk · 4 months

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nct are such fraternity boy college athletes fuckboys coded it's insane !! everyone i see a video of those men with the homosexual tendencies, vaping addiction, and their athletic garments, it really only cements this theory. their disography and music videos add to this too 😔✋ u know 90's love, universe (let's play ball), alley oop, bad alive eng ver.

can imagine them walking around this elite prestigious campus all loud and obnoxious. they know everyone is looking at them and want to fuck them too. they're chronic drinkers, vapers, cheaters, fuckboys. what would get most students expelled, they do on a tuesday afternoon.

nct are mostly made up of foreigners right? watch them walk around the campus as rich international students, some are here on academic or athletic scholarships they don't need. everything they own is designer. playing the 'sorry my korean isn't so good, can you help me?' card, and what they want help with is you sucking their dick.

the korean members aren't any better. they're every single horrible stereotype you hear of korean hongdae fuckboys. will come up to you all sweet and pretty, but they're horrid.

cw for under the cut: they are toxic males

can literally imagine haechan vaping on the college campus, moaning in the back of the class obnoxiously, and pulling the thing where he jokingly asks for your number ALL THE TIME. going to college parties and getting wasted after 3 drinks idk 🤷 ,,, he'd be so whiny and teasing too. bc obviously he's a rude BITCH but he's so pretty and whiny and flirtatious. he's fucking everything in sight, absolute whore!! his body count is triple his age. he'd genuinely try to suck one of his friends' dick and claim it doesn't mean anything because he has clothes on !! 😔✋ he'd be stroking his dick while you're in the room, whimpering your name. the type to get on his knees and beg for any kind of attention from you..

mark lee starting off being a cute college boy canadian transfer but becomes the NOTORIOUS korean pastor's son fuckboy in like the span of 3 months. he'll act real nice, and that's because he is real nice. being super sweet and asking if you want to get coffee with him and study. and he's so good with his words you'll think that's all it is. but then of course, since he's so good with his words he'll have you blushing and giggling as he takes you back to his apartment and gets your clothes off. talking yapping so much you don't even realise what he has you doing, that you're just another girl he's pulled. he'll still be whispering when his face is in your pussy. telling you how easily you cum. "dang girl, wait a lil' can't you?" implying you're the whore,

YUTA yuta is the entire campus crush. the star football ⚽️ player and the rockstar vocalist in a band. has sex with all the groupies that come to his concerts. he's dragging people up on stage to shotgun them while the guitar break plays. absolute heartbreaker. would definitely kick the ball to your head so that when it hits you, he has to go over check if you're alright, take you up to the nurse and wait with you. he is such a liar, it genuinely hurts. lying all the time and making up words and stories left and right. but he smells like cherries and watery perfume !! he tastes like it too. you'll be coming to all his garage concerts just to see if you'll be the one he takes backstage to fuck after. he's like a god, half the time you don't even realise he's a student like the rest of you. he's just an angel sent to have fun and fuck or smth.

jaemin nah he's horrid. he'll cheat on you, and with his cute smile you'll forgive him instantly. 😔✋ he'll spend a little cash dress you in designer, make you cum until you faint, and tell you how beautiful and perfect you are for him. he will genuinely have you thinking those girls meant nothing to him, theyre just a way to vent his stress and you're the only one he loves. and then bro will say he can't stay the night, as he needs to wake up early for training. you agree, obviously. and he left for another girl's house to fuck her too. when you met him he smelled so sweet, and it was someone else's perfume. each of his girls swear they're his favourite of his, and one day he's planning fucking them all in the same room.

JOHNNY SUH? he would abuse the american transfer student status. he walks around without a shirt, soaking wet, and never get pulled up. he's rich too, got bands on his wrist and multiple cars. going on holidays overseas every chance he get and hosting parties every weekend. when you get drunk at one of them, almost falling off the balcony, someone will come up and help you to a chair. he'll take real good care of you, going above and beyond. so you can't let this guy leave when he's everything you've ever wanted. so you pull yourself onto him and ride him while the party rages on inside. make sure his dick feels so good he'll ask for your number. but you don't know that you're the fifth girl who's thrown herself at him that night.

taeyongie ^-^ he's the prettiest guy you've ever seen. bros too sweet and shy to be handing out with the rest of the neo WHORES. he's the leader of a lot of clubs but he mainly sits in cute little cafes. genuinely he seemed too adorable? to be considered the 'leader' of some horrific ahh fuckboys. until you check twitter and you see someone's reposted his MANY MULTIPLE HE HAS A LOT sex tapes. he's surrounded by ridiculously hot guys and girls, and they're passing him around like a joint, and he's begging to be humiliated. they're making him cum so much he crying. he's stronger than most of them but he's letting himself be thrown around like a doll. absolutely wrecked. looking in the camera with pretty black eyes and a slurred voice before someone shoves a cock back in this throat "am i pretty?" zhong chenle is the epitome of the chinese international student stereotype. he's almost never there, never takes off his sunglasses. he has several of those douyin type baddies trailing after him. "you have nice collarbones and pretty eyes, i like. what's your instagram?" he'll be talking with his friend renjun about what yacht he should buy during class. he can buy your affection simply because he's just that rich. will shove his black card down his pants and tell you there's only one way to get it. buys rolex watches so that he can have it on while he fingers you. dresses you in diamonds and he doesn't want to be paid back in cash. qian kun is there on an academic scholarship, but he doesn't need it. he's just that good, the school begs to have him attend. he's not a fuckboy in the conventional sense but he's just as nasty. he wants to have the perfect girl for him, to bring back to his family. he'll look for the most naive but academic girl he can. he's a manipulator. he's trying to mold you into what he wants. he'll replace your entire wardrobe with designer, but he picked out all the clothes. he'll plan cute dates for you every day, but it's to stop you from hanging out with your skanky friends. he'll buy you a new phone, but he's already added software tech to spy on you. in some essences, even though he's not a fuckboy, he's much worse than one.

jisung, like taeyong, looks so sweet. but he's NASTY. he'll seem too quiet to be hanging out with the rest of the dreamie WHORES. so you don't mind sitting next to him in your lecture. but he's just a mix of all of dream. he's good with his words like mark, and he'll have you agreeing to meet at his place EASY. he's too cute to refuse like haechan and jaemin. and then the renjun part hits, silent and sneaky, he'll be doing everything to make you think you're coming on to him. once he finally has you, he'll make a mess of you like a feral animal, the way you've heard jeno fucks. and you realise he's just like the rest of the dreamies, you shouldn't have thought otherwise. he might actually be worse than all of them.

tell me if u want me to make these like a full post or add more characters IM SO CRAZY DELULU RN SORRY xx !! 💋

#nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #wayv smut #haechan smut #donghyuck smut #mark lee smut #yuta nakamoto smut #jaemin smut #johnny suh smut #taeyong smut #chenle smut #kun smut

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neoneun-au · 3 months

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CAN'T HELP MYSELF; CHAPTER III: WHO WAITS FOR LOVE?

―PAIRING: wonwoo x fem!reader, mingyu x fem!reader ―GENRE: love triangle au, fluff, mild angst, romantic comedy, suggestive, smut ―CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 11.2k ―CHAPTER WARNINGS: angst, mild language, alcohol consumption, masturbation (explicit female, implied/mentions of male), 18+ only ―STATUS: ongoing

―AUTHOR’S NOTE: i cant link them here, but please find the series masterlist and other chapters on my blog. i would love to know your thoughts on the story so far, this is really only fun with interaction and it helps keep me motivation to finish !

iii: who waits for love?

“You didn’t mention one of my roommates was basically a fucking model,” you complain, sinking into the absurdly massive grey sectional next to Jeonghan as he sits scrolling on his phone, attention removed from the drama providing background noise on the shared TV.

“Who? Mingyu?” He tosses his head back with a bark of a laugh at the suggestion, “he’s a model idiot.”

“Idiot or not you should have warned me he’d be so…so,” you toss your hands in the air, a dramatic display of frustration completed by the furrow in your brows. The image of Mingyu’s bare chest from your initial meeting (new and improved version 2.0 of hot roommate: now accompanied by a soundtrack of bed squeaks and the joy of someone else’s orgasm!) assaults your senses and you scrub it from your mind’s eye as best as you can before fixing your weary gaze back on Jeonghan, “so hot.”

“Oh please,” Jeonghan rolls his eyes as soon as the word falls from your lips. “Yeah he’s easy on the eyes, but once you get to know him his looks are much less impressive, trust me.” He shakes his head, raising his coffee to take a sip before pursing his lips and fixing you with a concerned stare, “I didn’t take you as the type to pine after tall, dark, and stupid. You’re not thinking of using him as a rebound are you?”

“What? Absolutely not,” the reply comes out perhaps more fervently than it should have because what was intended to deny the suggestion only serves to deepen the crease settling in between Jeonghan’s manicured eyebrows. You clear your throat and take a sip from the mug of tea growing cold in your hands as a cover.

“Rebound,” you scoff at the word, trying to play off the twisting feeling in your gut with derision but only managing to dig the knife in deeper. “Definitely not. I have no plans to start dating anytime soon. Not after this breakup.” You’re aware that you’ve begun to ramble but as per usual, your mouth runs away with your words. Try as you might, you cannot scramble to retrieve them as they spill forward like a damn breaking open. Jeonghan stares at you with a slight frown as you monologue, “I barely even want to look at men full-stop. Don’t get me wrong, I mean, you’re okay, we’re friends and all. And Seungcheol is fine I guess ‘cause he lifted all of my heavy shit up the stairs like some kind of bodybuilding angel sent from protein-heaven,” a stray strand of hair falls in front of your eyes and you blow it away with a short puff of breath.

“But dating? No. No, no, no,” you continue unabated, “absolutely not. I’m taking this time to get to know me. If anything, I’m dating myself. Mingyu might be hot but he won’t break my resolve, that’s for sure. I am determined,” you finish the speech with a single, firm nod–agreement with yourself clear and solid and in no way capable of breaking at the threat of warm brown puppy eyes flashed in your direction.

“Right,” Jeonghan drags out the word, unconvinced by your impassioned declaration of independence. “Well, if you get bored of dating yourself and do end up wanting someone to mess around with for a bit, I can hook you up with some people. Serious or…less serious. Your choice.”

“I will be just fine on my own, thank you.” You nod once. Firm. Decisive. Not at all embarrassed by the display.

“If you say so,” he sings, shaking his head and pushing himself off the couch before flicking the TV off. You sit in silence for a moment, sipping the last of your lukewarm tea, and listen as Jeonghan’ footsteps fade into the kitchen. The slight lingering guilt and shame from the night before stains your thoughts. A ring of liquid left on the surface of a coffee table, encircling the memory of Mingyu’s moaning and the keen sense of desire that burned a pit in your core at the sound.

Jeonghan returns from the kitchen a second later and sits down on the arm of the couch. He clears his throat to speak, more serious than you had seen since graduating university. “Listen, I’m not going to tell you how to live your life,” he begins. You inhale to laugh your disagreement of the statement but he holds up a single hand to silence you so you bite it back just as quickly. “I’m not going to tell you what to do, but I will just give you a warning, if I may” he lets his hand fall back down to his lap, “as your friend. And as someone who has your best interest at heart.”

“Fine,” you allow, buying into the sincerity, “I’m listening.”

“I said that I can hook you up with people both serious and not so serious,” he says, pausing to take a deep breath, “Mingyu is not serious.”

The image of the man in question pops up in your mind once more. An observable object–lips locked with the mystery brunette, hands roaming the expanse of her body as they flutter like a pair of dragonflies locked in a mating ritual towards his bedroom. The chorus of “ohs” and “ahs” that chorus in your ears like the audio from the old Italian softcore porn films you used to sneak out of bed to watch in your adolescence. The squeaking of the bed frame, and even the eventual abrupt departure first thing this morning, project themselves across the walls of your brain like a feel of film. All fleeting images and experiences serve as firsthand evidence backing up what Jeonghan is saying to you at this moment in the harsh light of day.

“If you’re in it for a quick, no strings attached hookup then, well,” he sighs, brushing his bangs out from in front of his eyes, “you’re a grown woman, I trust you can make your own decisions. But I’ve never seen Mingyu with the same girl more than once. So just…be careful. Because if you want something substantial, you would be barking up the wrong tree with him.”

You nod and the previous image of Mingyu–all roaming hands and bucking hips–dissolves pixel by pixel into the knitted brows of concern and the serious expression his classically handsome face held barely an hour ago. The warmth of his hand as it pressed ever so lightly against the skin of your forehead–an act so painfully tender and familiar it made you yearn at the intimacy of it. While your logical mind does believe what Jeonghan is saying, another part of you (a deeper and much more foolish part) can’t help but feel like there has to be more to Mingyu than the rest of them give him credit for. That maybe there is something to be taken seriously there.

The thought dissipates into vapour as Vernon strolls down the stairs–bleary eyed and dazed with the lingering sleep still clawing at the corners of his eyes. He nods lazily in silent greeting, clad in tie dye and baggy jeans, and walks past the pair of you and disappears into the kitchen.

“Just,” Jeonghan hesitates a moment, waiting for the sound of the fridge opening in the next room to disrupt the strained silence that had settled between you, “be careful, okay?”

“Don’t worry,” you smile, genuinely grateful for the advice and care from your long-time friend, despite the bells of disagreement ringing out inside of you. “I’ll be fine.”

“Do you think I need a rebound?” The question comes after an hour of banter and conversation over way too expensive cocktails in the dimly lit corner of the bar you used to frequent when you were still going to university with Seulgi. Her insistence that you get out of the apartment and stop stewing in your own thoughts had finally paid off and truthfully the distraction was not entirely unwelcome. But you were still stubbornly refusing to admit that she was right. The status quo of your friendship since the very beginning.

“Didn’t you say you were swearing off men or something?” Seulgi asks, tapping a manicured fingernail against the side of her nearly empty manhattan.

“That was before I saw the reality of the men I was swearing off,” you sigh, mourning the loss of your already weak resolve. Solemn regret for the poorly timed declamations you had given voice to in the past. “And the reality is that they're pretty fucking hot.”

“You mean one of them is pretty fucking hot, right?” she emphasizes, ever observant, and you grimace at her over the lip of your own half-empty glass.

“One of them looks like a Greek fucking God for no reason,” you grumble, turning to wave the waitress over for another round, “like Adonis or something. It’s not my fault I have functioning eyeballs.”

“Adonis wasn’t a god, he was the mortal lover of Aphrodite.”

“Well whatever he was, I’m now stuck living in an apartment with him.” The young waitress walks up with an expectant look and Seulgi orders another round of the same while you drain the last of your drink, savouring the bitterness of the gin as it lingers at the tip of your tongue. You watch the waitress as she walks back towards the bar, brunette ponytail swinging behind her like in rhythm with her steps, and wonder vaguely if maybe she’s the girl you saw Mingyu with.

Seulgi turns back to you with a slight roll of her eyes, “I’m sure it's not that bad. Just ignore him, you’re mostly working or asleep when you’re not just hanging around bugging me anyway.”

“Pretty hard to ignore him when he’s so openly hooking up with some random girl in a condo with 4 other people who can clearly hear him.”

“Well put some earphones in or something, listen to a podcast,” she laughs, shaking her head. You bite your tongue, reluctant to mention the fact that you had willingly listened in as they fucked. That maybe you had enjoyed it a little more than you were letting on. You didn’t need the inevitable teasing that was bound to come if you told her any of that. “Do you remember our one roommate? From second year?”

“Oh god,” you balk at the memory, “Johnny?”

“He was so loud,” she grimaces. So many late nights spent huddled together on her bed watching movies, joined in mutual avoidance of the self-proclaimed playboy and his rotating roster of girls. “And then you went and hooked up with him which was just the worst. He was so insufferable after that.”

“Hey, in my defense I was desperate and not exactly in my right mind,” you bristle at the thought of your pathetic, erstwhile crush. Surely, you had thought in the throes of your youth and naivety, someone who pulled that many girls knows exactly how to make them feel good. Yet by the end of it, as he lay open-mouthed snoring on the bare mattress next to you, you were left with a clear idea of why you never seemed to see the same girl more than once. “Anyway, from the sounds coming out of her, Mingyu seems to actually know what he’s doing in bed.”

“So you did listen,” she smirks.

“The walls are thin,” you let the paltry excuse fall from your lips as she tosses her head back in laughter. Gulping down a mouthful of water in a vain attempt to swallow some of the embarrassment boiling like hot lava in your bloodstream.

“What do you think they were doing?” Seulgi leans forward with a conspiratorial gaze–brown eyes full and bright and filled to the brim with a hint of evil. There have been a few moments throughout your years of friendship where she has fixed you with a look like this, and most of them led to some of the worst decisions either of you have ever made. Breaking into the community swimming pool after dark, stealing the neighbouring houses’ lawn ornaments, making out with dudes that may or may not have been married. Her desire for intrigue terrified and excited you in equal measure.

“Pretty sure they were fucking,” you respond and she sits back, disappointed at the bland reply.

“Yeah, I got that part. I mean details. If we’re gossiping, we should do it right.”

The cacophony of the bar consumes you. Chatter and laughter from nearby tables floods your senses, drowning out the roar of guilt that knocks at the door of your mind as you consider your next words carefully. Whether to completely dive off the deep end and betray your new roommates privacy (in more ways than you already have). If you had been a little more sober and a little less intrigued by the man in your own right, you might have shut the topic of conversation down before it even began. You might have left the apartment for the night and slept on a chair in the lobby and avoided the entire tryst to prevent the memory of his moans from carving themselves into your temporal lobe.

But you did not and now you are just as invested in the situation, and Seulgi’s complete lack of shame about asking for details further strangled any lingering guilt you had left. “Well,” you start and she leans in closer, eyes alight with anticipation, “they started in the hallway. I thought they were going to have sex right against the wall while I was trapped hiding behind the couch.”

She laughs, head tossed back in mirth, “bet you would have loved that. Mingyu, bare ass out in front of you,” she jeers and you bristle at the accusation (even if you know she’s right). The waitress returns with your drinks and you mumble a brief thank you to her as she sets the glasses down. Seulgi continues to laugh, pleased with your reaction, “it would have been your wet dream come true.”

“Okay, that’s it. I’m not saying anything else,” you grumble into your fresh drink, wincing at the bite of the liquor. Cocktails were never your thing but Seulgi had offered to pay so who were you to refuse.

“Aww,” she whines, “fine, fine, I’ll stop teasing you. Please give me the play by play. I am so curious.” She claps her hands together in mock prayer, pleading for your cooperation, and you think she might make an excellent lawyer or serial killer if she weren’t so normal most of the time.

“Fine,” you relent after a beat, already too wrapped up in reliving the night to abandon the story anyway. “Obviously,” you stress, “that didn’t happen. They were making out there for maybe like 5 minutes but it felt like hours. I was so worried she was going to see me but thankfully I managed to stay pretty low.”

Seulgi takes a sip of her darkly coloured drink, you can tell she wants to interject but she manages to hold true to her promise.

“So they stumble off to his room,” you continue with a sigh, “and I go to mine, which, mind you, is right next to his. We share a wall.” She winces and you give her a knowing nod, steeling yourself against the all too vivid memory. “I crawl into bed, trying to block out the noise for a while, which at this point isn’t too loud. It’s just like…some muffled talking and moaning and the occasional slap of like…skin on skin. Maybe he spanked her…” you trail off, shaking your head along with the words, fully invested in the theatrics of the storytelling now. “But, through some cruel twist of fate his bed, just like mine, is also right up against our shared wall. So as soon as they really get going, I can feel it.”

“What, like…” she thrusts in her seat, a quizzical slant to her eyebrows, “like shaking?”

“Yup,” you pop the ‘p’ for emphasis and she lets out a low whistle.

“For how long?”

“I don’t know,” you shake your head, “felt like forever. I was just clutching my sheets like it was an earthquake or something.” You do conveniently leave out the heat of desire and curling of toes, but she didn’t need to know that part.

“Did it start off slow?” she asks, voice conspiratorial. “Fast? Do you think he ate her out first?”

“Seulgi,” you hiss, keeping your voice low. You glance over at the table of college guys next to you but they don't appear to have been listening.

“What, I’m not allowed to ask?” She balks, hand on heart, and appears offended for a moment before the usual mischievousness settles back in and she leans forward with a glint. “Did Wonwoo ever eat you out?”

“We are not discussing the details of my sex life right now.”

“No of course not,” she rolls her eyes, “we’re just discussing the details of someone else’s.” You grumble at the inability to argue with this statement. “How long has it been since you got laid anyway?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh, dropping your head to the table and then regretting it immediately when you realise how sticky it is. “Like five months maybe?”

“Five? Didn’t you break up with Wonwoo like…” she fixes her eyes on the ceiling for a brief moment, calculating the time passed in her head before turning back to you with frown lines creased into her forehead, “six weeks ago?”

You shrug, sinking your embarrassment into another sip of alcohol, “so we hadn’t had sex in a while, so what?”

“Do you think maybe that was a contributing factor in your dissatisfaction with the relationship?” She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms.

“I don’t need a therapy session, Seulgi.”

“On the contrary, I think you would benefit greatly from therapy,” she laughs, “but that’s not what this is. You’ve just been sort of distant lately.” You open your mouth to protest but she stops you with a glance, “don’t start, I know we’ve been hanging out, but over the last few months you haven’t been as open about your emotions and stuff. You used to tell me everything, even things I didn’t want or need to hear, but for a while it feels like you’ve just been…hiding. Internalizing.” She leans forward and taps the center of your forehead with one, manicured finger. “Stop that. It’s not good for you to be in your head so much.”

“I hate to say it but, you’re right,” you sigh, begrudgingly agreeing with her observation. The skin where she had poked you tingling in the aftermath of her touch like a beacon of truth.

“I always am,” she nods, “but seriously. We’re friends. I want to hear how you’re feeling. I know I make fun of you a lot, but that’s just ‘cause you’re so easy to make fun of.”

“Hey!”

She laughs and you’re reminded of why she and Jeonghan always got along so well. “Seriously though,” she says, expression sobering, “maybe you wouldn’t fixate so much of your loneliness and desperation onto random guys if you got out of your head a bit more regularly. Just a thought.”

“It's not desperation, I just…” you trail off, unsure of where to begin. Unsure even of what your own internal landscape was trying to tell you. You wanted to confide in her, to be more open and transparent, but it was hard to do that when none of you couldn’t even sort out your thoughts and feelings from your anxieties and worries. It was hard to be clear when everything just felt like mud. She waits, expectant, as you sift through the much for some clear strand of thought. “You’re right, about the loneliness anyway, I know you are.” She nods, dark hair spilling over her shoulders. “But it’s not desperation.”

“So then what is it?” she asks and you try to place it. Try to tug on the thought to follow where it was leading you. What was it about Mingyu that made you feel like you were chasing something? Clawing at the walls of some well of yearning like a prisoner of your own desires. What was it about him that was making you want more? More information, more contact, more, more, more.

“I think,” you start, hesitant to speak the word lest it be wrong. “I think it’s curiosity.”

“About Mingyu?”

“Yeah, him. And about myself,” you shake your head. Ruminating on your spiraling thoughts was one thing, but vocalising them for someone who knew you oftentimes better than you knew yourself was another thing entirely. Your thoughts held more weight now that someone else was bearing witness to them. They had more consequences now than just 15 minutes of anxiety or a few hours of doom-scrolling.

“What about yourself?” she asks, unraveling the mess as you present it to her.

“I feel like…I’ve been in this strange place between needing people for everything and also trying my best to not need anyone at all. I can’t do my taxes without help, I can’t change a tire without help, I can’t even move apartments without it! But when it comes to emotions or vulnerability…I would rather just deal with it on my own, you know?” She nods, attention focused completely on you. Despite how long you’ve been friends, the direct attention still flickers a switch of shyness inside of you.

“That’s what it was like with Wonwoo, too. He was never the most emotionally available person and I think I just got used to dealing with things on my own because of it. I didn’t want to burden him with my thoughts or feelings cause I know I have a lot of them. Don’t get me wrong, though, it wasn’t like he refused to listen or anything I just…he just wasn’t really open with his own feelings or thoughts so I sort of started to feel guilty about dominating those conversations all the time with mine. Like I was using him as some sort of emotional punching bag. And then I just got used to it, and it took so long for me to realise that I needed something more than that…”

Any hesitation you had felt before dissipates as you talk, little by little. You feel like you’re back in your dorm room together, laying on your floor and just letting yourself pour out every thought, every feeling, every worry you had. Stream of consciousness–your lips to Seulgi’s ears. That open vulnerability you shared before life and work and everything else got in the way and left the door open for inhibition, shame, and guilt to move into the space between.

You feel lighter as you speak, like you had been needing this–craving it. Waiting for her invitation to come to let loose the torrential downpour of your mind to a willing listener. To a friend.

She was right. She always was.

“So what is it about this Mingyu guy, then? You don’t think he would just be the same?” She asks, shifting the focus, and you purse your lips in concentration.

“I’m not sure…” you trail off. And you really weren’t sure. Was he just an idle fascination after all? Did you just find him hot and that smoke screen of good looks was blinding you to the fact that he was just some guy like everyone before him? Or was there actually something there, in spite of it all? You mull it over while Seulgi takes a leisurely sip of her drink. “I was talking to Jeonghan the other day, and he said something that sort of made me think–”

“That’s a surprise,” she laughs, unable to resist the opportunity for a jab at your mutual friend.

“He said ‘Mingyu is not serious’ and I don’t know,” you continue, unabated by her comment, “I get this feeling that that’s not the full truth.”

“What, like psychic intuition?” she laughs and you shake your head.

“No, no…well, maybe. I don’t know. Obviously I don’t know the guy very well yet, and I have seen him do exactly what Jeonghan was warning me he does but…” you sigh, trying to collect your scattered thoughts of the man that is currently plaguing your mind. “He has also been very thoughtful, and he seems to notice such small details that the others don’t. I don’t know…I just think there might be something more to him than that, you know?”

“And you think you’re going to be the one to discover that side of him?” she asks, eyebrow quirked. Astute as ever.

“No,” you start, but catch yourself in the lie immediately. “Well, yeah, I guess. I just want to see if my hunch is correct.”

She fixes you with a withering gaze, dark brown eyes boring into your own for a moment before she laughs again, “Oh I get it now, you want to fix him.”

“I can’t help it, I love a project,” you sigh, resting your cheek in your palm and tracing idle circles against the wood grain of the table top.

“So take up crocheting or something! Stop throwing yourself at every man who looks like a kicked puppy.” You groan at the accusation but can’t deny the truth in it. You did have a track record. “Look, if you want to do this. Really want to crack that big beefy chest open and see what’s inside, I’m not going to stop you, but I’m warning you now that I do not think this is going to end well.”

“You sound like Jeonghan,” you mumble, eyes closed as you listen to the lecture.

“Good, at least someone you live with has some brains.” She shakes her head, pausing to hand her card to the waitress as she walks over with the bill for the evening. Silence stretches out for a moment, the din of the bar enclosing in to envelop you in its swell as you wait for the transaction to finish. The waitress returns and Seulgi slips her card back into her wallet before turning back to you, “I’m not saying this to be mean, but I really think you should take some time to be with yourself before you end up repeating the same mistakes you made with Wonwoo.”

“Harsh,” you mutter, feeling the sting of it spear through your heart and settle there. Slow poison.

She softens, eyes warming as she slides off her chair. You follow suit and walk with her out into the chill of the night. The bitterness of winter was starting to seep slowly into the air, you can feel it biting at your skin as you step outside with her to wait for the Uber she ordered to pull up.

“I love you and I want what’s best for you, and if you think that there might be something there with this Mingyu guy then I hope you’re right, I really do,” she says, a smile softening her expression. “I just want you to be careful, ok?”

“Okay,” you sigh, hugging your arms tight against your chest to fight off the wind as it blisters through your thin jacket. “I love you, too. And I will be careful, I promise. I’m not really too keen to repeat my last relationship either…”

“Good,” she nods, eyes roaming to the curb as a slick black sedan pulls up. “I’ll see you soon. Try not to throw yourself too big of a pity party before then.” She waves goodbye as she strides towards the car. You roll your eyes, returning the wave, before starting your brisk walk the few blocks back to the condo.

Time passes slowly in the new stasis of your life. You take the new opportunity in the wake of your hangout to bury yourself in work and get through some projects that had been building up untouched while you were feeling sorry for yourself. You kept up with regular jogs with Seungcheol, largely at his behest, and they were starting to become an enjoyable break in your days. A way to clear your mind and focus your attention on your body. It also did not escape your notice that the route he was taking you on now steered clear of the street where you had seen Wonwoo a few weeks ago. You use your commitment to the new routine as a silent thank you to him for somehow knowing what you needed when you needed it.

Vernon was becoming a favourite of yours as well. A quiet denizen of the condo; he showed up at random hours, taking a seat near you but not too close, reading through scripts or scrolling on his phone in companionable silence as you worked. It was like living with a cat that took care of itself and had an impressive collection of beanies.

Mingyu you tried to avoid, for the most part. He still plagued your thoughts on a daily basis, but out of respect for your friends’ concerns you wanted to give this budding infatuation time to settle into shape. To give yourself time to try and figure out what your real feelings on the matter were. You tried to find a delicate balance between roommate and acquaintance, figuring out his general schedule and adjusting your own accordingly so that you weren’t caught in any more awkward situations in the middle of the night or without anyone else around.

All of these measures were helping to make you feel more at home in the condo. Less like an interloper disrupting their days and more like a part of the makeshift family–even if that part for now was cousin, twice-removed.

As a result you were spending less time doing your work from the cafe and much more of it huddled over your laptop on the coffee table in the living room. Projects were getting done quicker, though it did mean that you were seeing Seulgi less often.

“Why aren’t you answering my texts?” Seulgi’s face blinks to life on the screen of your phone as you finally accept her FaceTime call. “Are you still moping?”

“I’m not moping!” you defend, raising the phone to hide the view of the pajamas you’ve been wearing for the past 24 hours as you were locked in a death-match with an upcoming deadline.

“Well how many more projects do you have left to do before we can go out? It’s been two weeks since I saw you now that you’re actually working from home,” she sighs in exasperation. Judging by the smoked out black liner defining her eyes, she was heading out tonight with or without you anyway. “Yerim is in town and she’s been asking about you.”

“Yerim? Wait, since when? I thought she was still in England?” you straighten up at the mention of your distant friend’s name.

“She’s back for now to get some visa renewal stuff done,” Seulgi answers, “and we’re going out tonight so you should come if you’re not still buried under a mountain of work.”

You glance at the screen of your laptop, folders stacked on your desktop in a messy landscape of the digital mountain you created for yourself. The thought was tempting but you knew Yerim and you knew what a night out with her always entailed. Read: getting black out drunk in a club and stumbling home at 6:00am the next morning. You had made a lot of progress scaling your workload, but you weren't sure that even without work you would have the energy needed for a night out like that.

The front door clicks open behind you and you spin your head to spout a quick greeting. Mingyu nods a quick hello, arms loaded with bags of groceries, before disappearing into the kitchen.

“Who was that?” Seulgi asks, noting the interruption in your conversation.

“Mingyu,” you answer, mindlessly pushing yourself off the ground and bringing her with you as you walk into the kitchen behind him in search of a glass of water. He smiles at you as you enter but says nothing as Seulgi’s voice rings out through your phone.

“Ah,” she smirks, “the one with the nipples?” You roll your eyes at the clear attempt to embarrass you but nod—pointedly ignoring the man in question as he sputters next to you at the comment. You fill a glass with water from the filtered jug in the fridge. “So are you coming tonight or should I tell Yerim you’re too depressed?”

You give it a moment of thought. You haven’t seen Yerim since she moved to the UK in the middle of her third year of university, after the rest of you had already graduated. She sent some odd gifts here and there—chocolate, snacks, a figurine of Shakespeare wearing heart print boxers—but communication had dwindled as you all found your footing in your adult lives, far removed from the heady days of hedonistic college life.

“Well first of all, don’t tell her I’m depressed, ‘cause I’m not,” you emphasise and Seulgi laughs at the bitter defense, “but I don’t think I can make it tonight. We should make plans for dinner or something before she leaves, though. Something a little more lowkey than the club.”

“Fine, be boring,” she sighs. “By the way, Yerim brought a friend back with her. He’s apparently cute and not completely useless. She thought you might like to meet him, just as a distraction. Or a rebound that’s not going to jeopardize your living situation. He’s also coming tonight”

You groan, settling down in a kitchen chair—opposite to the one Mingyu had sat down in with his reheated leftovers. He watches you with mild interest out of the corner of his eye while you try to think of a way to convince Seulgi that you don’t need Yerim’s charity date. “I would, but I already have plans tonight,” you lie, hoping she buys it without question.

“Oh?” she asks, eyes narrowed in cautious suspicion. “Do you have other friends?”

“Very funny,” you roll your eyes, “but no, actually. It’s just with my roommate.”

“Which one?” she probes, digging you deeper into the grave of your own lie.

“Oh uh–” you stutter but your eyes flicker above the screen of your phone, locking in on Mingyu’s own wide brown gaze. “Mingyu. We’re going to dinner tonight.”

He opens his mouth to speak, clearly confused by being dragged into your mess, but you shake your head lightly—willing him to just roll with it. He clamps his mouth shut and returns to his bowl of stew.

“Mingyu?” Her surprise is genuine and you can tell she’s starting to believe you. A flicker of concern shines in her eyes. “Is it like…a date?”

“No, Seulgi,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose between your thumb and forefinger. She was edging dangerously close to that ‘jeopardizing your living situation’ territory on her own. “It’s just dinner. With a roommate.”

“Okay,” she drawls, “but if you end up against a wall with his face between your thighs—”

“Goodbye, Seulgi,” you end the call with a panicked stab of your finger and lean back in your chair, eyes shut tight against the rising tide of anxiety. You feel lightheaded. Hopefully Mingyu didn’t catch that last part.

“Did we—” He clears his throat. His voice, hesitant and low, floating in and dispeling your faint hope that he hadn’t been paying attention. “Did we have plans I forgot about?”

You want to laugh, he sounds so genuinely worried. It forces a bitter bubble of bile to rise up into your throat. “No,” you shake your head, clearing it with a sip of water. “Don’t worry you don’t have to go out to dinner with me, I just really didn’t want to go out tonight. Yerim is sort of wild sometimes and the thought of meeting some stuffy English guy in a club was making me feel ill.”

“Oh,” he smiles—also hesitant, but you can see a hint of his canines poking out behind his lips. “Well, glad I could be of service, then.” His smile widens and you can’t help but return it with one of your own.

“You have been most helpful,” you laugh. “Sorry for using you as a scapegoat. Also sorry about the nipples thing, Seulgi has a selective memory.”

“I don’t mind,” he shakes his head, the flush of warmth in his skin betrays the hint of embarrassment he’s trying to mask. You smile at the grace he’s giving you in what could have been an exceptionally awkward moment (especially after weeks of avoiding being alone with him) and push your chair back–wooden legs sliding against the tile. You stand up, preparing to turn around and hunker back down in front of your laptop screen, but Mingyu calls out your name before you get the chance.

“Yeah?” you reply, half-turned towards the living room.

“If you do,” he pauses, clearing his throat. “If you do want to go out to dinner tonight though…I could do that. I would uh…I’d like that.”

Your eyes trail from his still slightly pink face to his nearly empty bowl of leftovers. “But you already ate?”

“Yeah,” he laughs, hand rubbing the back of his neck. A gesture so familiar to you from spending so much time with Wonwoo, but it looks different on him. Less like an anxious tick and more like a bashful habit. “I can eat again though,” he drops his hand from his neck and pats his stomach twice, “I’m a bottomless pit.”

You should say no. You know you should say no. You shouldn’t dig yourself any deeper into this hole than you already have. But looking at him now, eyes so wide and genuine—freely offering you this tether of kindness—you can’t seem to bring yourself to summon up the word.

“Okay,” you reply, deadpan. Numbed with the confusion and surprise of this sudden change of plans so easily agreed to. So easily ruining weeks of careful avoidance and the cooling off of the one-sided tension you felt when you were near him.

“Great,” he grins, white teeth glistening in the bright lights of the kitchen. “I need to grab a shower first and make a quick call, but how about we head out in an hour? What kind of food are you in the mood for? Do you have any favourite spots?”

“I uh—” you stammer, unsure of the answer to the posed question. “I’m fine with anything. I don’t go out for dinner a lot so I don’t really know that many restaurants…”

“No problem,” he smiles again, standing up and grabbing his bowl. “I know plenty, I’ll bring you to a good one. Promise.” He winks before turning around to rinse out his dish and your heart skips a beat at the expression. One you would so often find lecherous and off-putting seems somehow so endearing coming from him. You scold your brain for the thought before stalking back to your room to change out of your pajamas and attempt to appear somewhat presentable.

The lights of the city cast their soft glow over the water of the slow moving river. A hypnotizing dance of yellow and gold against the backdrop of the night sky. It lulls your thoughts–quietens them to a dull roar–as you sit next to Mingyu on a park bench.

You had finished dinner a half hour ago; a mouthwatering feast of flavour grilled by the deft hands of your roommate himself. You watched as he took to the task with an almost reverent disposition—ushering the food through the cycle of cooking as you sat across from him, absorbed in the aroma and savouring each morsel he placed in front of you.

You had worried that he was going to take you to some uptight, fine dining restaurant where each dish was somehow the size of your pinky finger while costing more than you made in a day (Mingyu did have a vibe of luxury about him); but when he opened the door to the small, hole-in-the-wall barbeque joint in a random side-street you felt the tension in your shoulders ease and you were finally able to let yourself relax.

He ordered–a generous selection of high-quality but reasonably priced beef–and you sat and ate and talked. It was normal and nice and the old wood-planked walls of the restaurant leant the entire dinner an air of casualness that your anxiety-addled brain desperately needed. Just a nice normal dinner with a roommate who you did not have any romantic attraction to at all.

Conversation continued after dinner ended. He was easy to talk to, easy to listen to, and you lost yourself in it, completely forgetting about your previous plan to avoid him, as he paid the bill. You continued to talk as you left the restaurant, stepped back out onto the street, and as you continued to walk together until you saw the Han River stretching out in front of you.

You hadn’t been paying attention as you walked–just let your feet move under the vague assumption that you were just heading back home–so reaching the river had come as a surprise. Mingyu’s face remained impassive as he led you past the numerous couples dotting the riverbank, each splayed out on grass and blankets, bathed in the soft amber glow of the city. You followed him for a few hundred feet until he stopped at a small hill and sat down on a bench, draping his arm casually over the back as he leaned against the sun-faded wood.

You hesitate a minute before sitting down. The mirage of purely platonic companionship had dissipated step by step as you followed him downstream, watching the way his jacket moved against his torso–loosely fitted but structured enough to hint at the firmness of his shoulders underneath, swelling as his arms swung idly at his sides. Your mind blaring a fire red warning in Jeonghan’s voice: be careful. Mingyu notices you hesitate and offers a warm smile, just touching at the corners of his eyes. He moves over an inch on the bench to give you more space and your heart takes that moment to consider itself some sort of acrobat in your chest. You silence the warning, washing it out with your own self-soothing lies, before taking a seat next to him and focusing on the night skyline.

Living in the city always felt isolating. Like the loneliness of existence was only amplified by the millions of other lives that played out parallel to your own. Millions of other people with different thoughts, feelings, and experiences existing right next to yours–there, but never touching. Lines crossing and converging but rarely intertwining for longer than a heartbeat.

Wonwoo had been an anchor in that sea of loneliness. Something solid to hold onto as you were buffeted by the waves of life. Stabile, grounding. You never realised how much you needed that stability until it was no longer there. Until you were cast adrift once more, alone in the deep blue.

Seulgi was there of course–as well as your other friends and family–but it wasn’t the same. They were islands of reprieve to visit when needed, and to offer the same when they did, but it wasn’t the same as having that one person to tether yourself to. To merge your life with and create a new island on solid foundations. Unshakeable, until it’s not.

Maybe you were pathetic, relying on a partner for so much support. Needing someone to rescue you from your own life. Maybe you needed to save yourself for once.

“Do you ever get the feeling like you’re going to end up dying alone?” you ask the question, half expecting it to dissolve into the air in front of you and go completely unanswered. Unsure if you even want an answer or if you just needed to remove the thought from your mind.

Mingyu scoffs, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he glances at you sideways–evaluating. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem for you.”

“Oh?” you raise an eyebrow, a twinge of offense scurrying up at the comment. “And what makes you so sure of that?”

“Well, what makes you think you would?” he counters and you let a small laugh slip out at the seriousness of his expression.

“I don’t know,” you shake your head, dismissing the thought and turning your attention back towards the view. Bitterly regretting altering the mood so seriously. You should have remained flippant, joyous. Unserious. But when did your mouth ever listen to you? “I was just thinking out loud.”

“Oh no you don’t,” he laughs, “you brought it up and now you’re avoiding the question?” You feel the heat of his body warm the air around you as he adjusts on the bench, angling away from the river to better face you and pry the answers free under the weight of his attention.

“You avoided mine!” you bite back in defense, turning in kind to face him, but realising the trap too late as he flashes you a wolfish grin.

“Ah-ha, so it was a serious question!” he cries, pleased with himself. “Listen if you want my honest answer, I will give it to you but I want an answer in return as well.”

You hesitate, not for the first time tonight—wavering at the edge of the offer and cursing your propensity for sticking your foot straight into your mouth at the drop of a hat.

Do you really want to open up to him like this?

It had been such a nice evening. Good food, good conversation, and a nice walk along the river. It had been a while since you had felt so at ease in someone's company. And yet, despite all of that, you had to go and get lost in your self-sabotaging, meandering thoughts and open your big dumb mouth. Did Mingyu even really want to know? He seemed friendly and open enough but you can’t help but hear Jeonghan’s voice as it bounces off the walls of your mind: ‘Mingyu is not serious’. Did he know what Pandora’s Box he was willingly opening by asking you? Did he care?

You fix your gaze on him, evaluating, searching his eyes for any sign of ambivalence or even trickery. He stares back, waiting patiently for you to mull it over, and you come up with no discernable ulterior motive. Nothing lurking in the clear brown of his eyes other than open curiosity and a slight glimmer of amusement.

“Ugh, fine,” you relent, falling back against the bench with a huff. You forgot Mingyu’s arm is resting against the back and you feel the pressure of it against you as you settle deeper into the bench. “Why do I think I’m going to die alone…” you repose the question, willfully ignoring the shiver that ripples out from the spot where his arm is pressed against you. You can feel the warmth of it even through your jacket. “Maybe because I’m a bit of an anxious wreck and that can’t be easy to deal with. Or maybe because I’ve managed to fuck up every relationship I’ve ever been in.”

“I don’t think so,” Mingyu replies, assured in his denial of your reasoning.

You let out a mirthless laugh and glare into the middle distance. “Don’t think so? Don’t think what? That I’m not an anxious wreck? You clearly don’t know me that well.”

“No, I believe that part, though anxiety can be treated to a certain extent. I have this psychologist friend, Minghao, he talks a lot about it. I could get you his number if you want.” he offers and you furrow your brow at the suggestion.

“You want to set me up with a psychologist?”

He laughs, “not like a date. Like if you wanted to book an appointment to see him about it. You know, like a therapist?”

“Oh,” you mumble, immediately feeling stupid. “So what did you mean then?”

“Just that it takes two to fuck up a relationship most of the time. You can’t fuck up something that wasn’t ready to be fucked up, you know? No one is perfect, we all have issues so no relationship is ever perfect and that’s not the fault of just one person.”

“Wow,” you exhale. His words sink in, a stark contrast against the internal monologue of shame and blame you had callously constructed. A differing perspective roaring in to shake your foundations. You try to reckon with it, the thought that it might not be all your fault, and it clamours and clangs against your brain in the worst way. In a way that you know it might be true but you’re not ready to accept it yet.

“Did I say something wrong?” Mingyu asks, momentarily rendered insecure by your plunge into melancholic silence.

“No, no,” you assure him, distantly amused by his immediate assumption that it might have been him that did something wrong. “It’s just…” you hesitate, unsure of how to word it. “I wasn’t expecting you to be so insightful.”

He snorts out a laugh, “thanks, I guess. I have my moments.”

“No, no, I don’t mean that I think you’re like…incapable of insight, just…” you pause, trying to reformulate the thought in a way that doesn’t sound like an insult. “I’m just not used to getting reality checks like that from people I don’t really know that well.”

“Oh, okay,” he laughs again, in relief this time, and you feel the edge of tension you had been holding in your body ebb away. “Well, I mean it though,” he affirms, “I don’t think it means you’re going to die alone.”

“Okay, well,” you sigh, unsure where to follow this new proffered perspective, “thanks, I guess.”

“No problem,” he grins. “Your turn.”

“My turn?” You knit your brows in confusion, eliciting another laugh from your seatmate. “For what?”

“You answered my question, so it’s your turn to ask one,” he explains.

“I didn’t realise we were playing 20 questions,” you tease. The words leave your lips with a little more edge than you had intended and you wince. Why did you always sound so defensive? You glance at Mingyu and feel a slight sense of relief at the fact that he seemed not to have noticed the tone.

“Well, if you don’t have any questions, I’m fine with being the hot, mysterious one in the house,” he winks and again you find yourself not hating how he looks when he does it.

Still, you snort derisively in response. If only he knew how deeply not-mysterious he already was to you. “Hardly,” you reply. “Okay, fine. I have a question for you: why does The Notebook make you cry so much?”

Wide-eyed surprise ripples across his face, a tinge of red embarrassment colouring the tips of his ears, “who told you that?” he asks in a nervous half-whisper.

“Jeonghan might have mentioned it when I was moving in…”

“Traitor,” he seethes, running a hand through his hair as he considers this revelation before answering you. “It’s sad,” he states plainly after a moment’s hesitation and you ‘tsk’, refusing the easy answer.

“Lots of movies are sad, Mingyu. Why does this one in particular make you cry so much that I was warned never to watch it in the living room?”

He sighs again, heaves his chest in and out like an exasperated dog settling down for bed. You watch as he stares out over the river, wide brown eyes shimmering with the lights of the city, and wait for him to respond. You had never seen Wonwoo cry during a movie. You had barely seen Wonwoo cry at all. He kept his emotions held tight, whether for self-protection or because he really was just that steady you didn’t know, but Mingyu’s upfront expressiveness was a breath of fresh air. Seeing someone so open at every moment with how they were feeling made you feel a little bit less alone with your own rapid shifts in mood. Maybe you weren’t the broken one.

“Fine,” he relents, “honestly, I know it’s corny. I know it’s a corny movie and it’s lame and dumb that an adult man with a job still bawls like a baby while watching it but I can’t help it. Seeing those two old people dying in bed together after reliving the tale of their love just gets me every single time. It’s a confusing mixture of sadness and hope and I have never been able to get through it without weeping.”

“Wow,” you remark and he shakes his head.

“Happy?” he huffs, again with an air of a disgruntled dog and you laugh.

“Very happy, thank you for sharing.”

“Okay my turn,” he grins, leaning back against the bench once more, the wood groaning slightly under his weight as it shifts.

“Good luck, movies don’t make me cry often.”

“Well you’ve gotta have some embarrassing secret. Otherwise we’re on uneven ground, and I don’t like that.”

“I’ve already told you something embarrassing,” you start to defend yourself but he shakes his head. Resolute.

“What? About thinking you fuck everything up?” You nod and he laughs, “that’s not embarrassing, that’s normal. Everyone thinks they’re more fucked up than they are.” He shrugs and you again marvel at how casually he accepts the very thing that feels so earth-shaking to you. “Tell me your most embarrassing secret.”

“That’s not a question, it’s a demand.” you point out and he nods, considering the rebuttal.

“Too broad? Okay, then what’s your favourite song?”

“How is that supposed to be embarrassing?” you ask, aghast.

“It’s not, I’m just curious. Not every question needs to be so heavy, you can get to know people through simpler things. Happy things,” he smiles again, coy, and your heart betrays you again with a flutter of wings against your chest.

“I’m not sure,” you muse. He starts to protest but you cut him off before he can begin, “there are too many songs that I love to feel like I can narrow it down to just one all–time favourite. Too many things to consider.”

“Like what?”

“Like, what am I doing when I am listening to it? Is it a song I could listen to anytime, anywhere? Does that make it a favourite or just an easy listen? Is it a song that fills me with a swell of emotions? A favourite from high school that still makes me nostalgic? Or a recent song that I’ve played on repeat too many times to count? You see…too many things to consider.”

“Wow, you’re right,” he laughs again, “you really are an overthinker.”

“Gee, thanks,” you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“How about you just make me a playlist with all of the above and we’ll consider it answered?” he winks and you blink back at him, stunned to silence. Wonwoo never really got through the songs you would recommend to him, was Mingyu really going to go to the trouble of listening to an entire playlist? For his roommate?

“Oh–okay,” you answer, unsure of what else to say.

Silence descends for a moment, settling comfortably between you, and you glance around in surprise to find that most of the people that had been here when you arrived have since departed. How long had you been sitting on this bench talking?

As if reading your thoughts, Mingyu clears his throat. “It’s getting late,” he feigns a yawn, forearm flexing as he brings his hand up to cover his mouth, “but you have one more question to even it up before we start walking back home.”

You sit still, contemplating. While teasing him had been fun, an overwhelming part of you wants to really get to know him. To know what makes him tick. What thoughts and desires lurk in the depths of those puppy brown eyes. To find out exactly what it was about him that was drawing you in so much despite your (and Seulgi’s and Jeonghan’s) better judgement.

“What did you want to be when you were a kid?” you ask finally. It feels like a silly question as soon as you ask it but you can’t take it back once it’s been spoken. And you do actually want to know the answer.

“Is that your final question?” he asks and you hesitate but nod. You’re curious about what kind of kid he was. What his dreams had been before the demands of adulthood had set in. “Alright, but it’s silly,” he warns and you wait silently for his response despite it, “I wanted to own my own bakery.”

“You wanted to own a bakery?” you parrot the response, surprised by his answer. “Really?”

“I told you it was silly,” he smiles, voice a slight quiver. You hadn’t expected the answer, true, but it’s the nervousness around it that is really taking you by surprise. Like it’s kid Mingyu answering the question and not the 20-something year old adult you had bought you dinner.

“No, no, it’s not silly, I just didn’t expect it,” you reassure him and the expression of embarrassment on his face melts back into neutrality. The wave of nerves slipping away into the ether. “Why didn’t you do it?”

He shrugs, “my parents didn’t think it was a suitable career path for someone like me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You bristle, feeling defensive on behalf of the kid he once was.

“I never asked for clarification,” he laughs. “Just went to school for business like they suggested. Jokes on them, though, I can still make a mean sourdough.”

“What can’t you do?” you mumble, intending the comment to be unheard but clearly failing as Mingyu throws his head back with a laugh before getting to his feet.

“Well, what about you?” he asks as you join him and you both head back down the path towards the main road. “What was your childhood dream?”

“I always wanted to be an artist,” you say, “and I sort of am doing that now just in a more corporate-friendly way. Career was the one aspect of life that I always felt I had a handle on. There was no guesswork. It was just me involved.”

“Your parents didn’t have any different thoughts as to what they wanted you to do?” he asks, a slight note of surprise colouring his voice.

“Not really, no,” you shrug, “they were pretty supportive, honestly. I think the only things they really cared about was that I got an education and was able to pay for rent and food.”

“That’s lucky, it’s nice to have such supportive parents.”

“Yeah, I guess it is,” you nod. It had never been something you had actively thought about, just taken for granted and assumed it was sort of the same for everyone. You make a mental note to call your parents soon and catch up as you and Mingyu leave the park and the river disappears behind you.

“Would you ever bake something for me?” you ask, matching Mingyu’s stride as you take a turn down the block towards home.

“That depends,” he replies, amusement clear in his voice.

“On what?”

“On whether or not you want to hang out again in the future,” he shrugs, feigning nonchalance. You see a hint of blush reddening the tips of his ears again and it makes you wonder. Was it just the slight chill in the air causing it?

“Well, we do live together so I think that’s almost inevitable,” you laugh, trying to brush the niggling feeling off with an assurance that you did not feel.

“True,” he concedes, “then I guess I will. Are you more of a sweet or savory person?”

“That depends,” you reply, a small grin turning up the corners of your lips.

“Overthinking pastries now too?”

“No,” you laugh, all lingering feelings of defensiveness gone from you. “It depends on what you’re better at making.”

“Oh, I’m good at it all,” he replies, voice smooth–silk slipping over mahogany–as he holds open the door to the condo complex for you. You glance at him, eyes meeting his in the dim light of the lobby, and study him for a moment. He’s smiling, cool and casual, but there’s a seriousness hiding in the depths of his expression that you can’t quite unravel. It draws you in, curiouser and curiouser, until you find yourself face to face with a crossroads. Two paths diverge in the yellow woods of your mind and the only thing that remains is to choose.

“Then I’ll take it all,” you reply after a breath, thoughts slipping into place. Threshold crossed, decision made. You step into the lobby and head towards the elevator leaving Mingyu to trail behind.

The condo is blessedly quiet when you arrive upstairs; everyone else scattered throughout the city with Friday night plans. The absence of Jeonghan in particular is a relief, you knew that no matter what the context was, if he saw you return with Mingyu at this time of night you would be primed for some form of lecture or another. Whether verbal or simply that knowing stare he likes to give you when he thinks you’re being stupid.

That silent cloud of judgement would have been especially intrusive tonight as you step in through the front door barely clinging onto the tenuous air of bravado you had conjured up in the lobby downstairs. It would have shaken your resolve to follow this thought of intrigue towards Mingyu and thrust you right back into your torrential thoughts once more, spinning haphazardly between mourning over what was lost and what might not ever be.

Instead you stand with shaky confidence and a pounding in your chest as you bid Mingyu goodnight, savouring that look of intrigue you’re sure is mirrored in his own expression as you close your bedroom door for the night and bar any doubt from creeping in behind you.

You listen through the walls as his own door clicks shut before rummaging through the unpacked duffel bag in the corner of your room. You dig through unsorted paperwork, unopened mail, random knick knacks you had found no home for yet until your fingers grasp the object you were seeking.

Sleek, black silicone emerges from the bag and you glance behind you as if Mingyu might be standing there, ready to chastise you for your impure thoughts.

You stand up, hesitating, evaluating the vibrator as it sits like a brick in your palm. You had only used it once, years ago, after buying it at a convention with Seulgi before it ended up buried deep in the recesses of your drawer. At the time your sex life had been consistent and satisfying–it was early days for you and Wonwoo and the excitement and novelty of having each other at your fingertips for the whims of the moment had kept you too busy to even remember that you had the toy stored away in the first place. It wasn’t until you were packing to move out that you rediscovered it.

You hesitate for a second before thinking ‘fuck it, I paid like $200 for this, I’m gonna get some use out of it’ and slipping out of your clothes and into your bed.

You try to set the mood in your mind, fingers swirling idly over your bare skin as you flip through mental images of celebrities, movie scenes, fantasies that you used to use to get in the mood. Anything to deepen that pressure that burned quietly inside of you. None of your old tricks produce results and you sigh, ready to give up on the activity completely, before you feel the distinct thud of Mingyu’s headboard against the wall.

You imagine Mingyu: what is he doing? Maybe sitting on the edge of his bed, scrolling through Instagram, or maybe he’s under his covers too. Maybe he’s having the same thoughts as you?

You follow this thought where it takes you, back to that night the other week. Back to the low sound of his moaning carried through the drywall and plaster, the thudding of his headboard against your wall, back to that yawning pit in your stomach that felt like it might swallow you whole at any second. Your hand traces the path of the scene playing out in your mind, blazing a trail down your chest, stomach, and finally to the aching space between your thighs.

You recall the weight of Mingyu’s arm pressed against your back on the park bench–steady and solid. The sound of his voice and laughter muffling your gasp of surprise as you flick the vibrator on and jump at the sudden noise filling your room.

You flick it back off immediately, worrying that the distinctive buzzing sound would carry itself through the cover of your blankets and body and make it through the proven-thin walls towards Mingyu’s ears. He would know for sure you were in here thinking about him, fantasizing about his lips on your neck. The thought of discovery adds a confusing stab of guilt to the knotting in your guts but you do your best to squash it as it pops up. What exactly were you doing wrong? You were tired of denying yourself pleasure out of fear of other people’s judgements or shame. You flick the vibrator back on, this time prepared for the noise, and dig the object deeper between your thighs.

Maybe part of you wants him to hear you–wants him to know what you were doing alone in the dark in the bedroom next to him. Maybe, in this alternative timeline, he knocks softly on your door. His brown eyes rake over your naked body, bared to him like a gift prepared just for him. His sweatpants strain with the pressure of his bulge as his blood travels lower, and lower. Filling him with the desire as it fills you now. He steps forward, wavering at the threshold of your bed and asks, voice so low it plucks at the strings of your core, to join you. To help you release this coil of tension that had made its home inside of you, growing bigger and hungrier every single day since running into him half-naked in the kitchen that first night. Maybe he’s been running through this same scenario every night before bed, hand gripping his cock as it pulses in his hand, sweat beading his brow.

Alternative timeline or not, the thought itself is all that you need to push you over the edge as you move the vibrator against your clit, finding the right rhythm of pressure, the right balance of relief, to feed the beast of desire crying open-mouthed inside of you. To have your legs shaking and your core pulsing with waves of pleasure no longer denied. You cry out, muffling the sound with the back of your free hand, and for the first time in years it isn't Wonwoo's face clear in your mind as you reach your climax.

―AUTHOR’S NOTE: i cant link them here, but please find the series masterlist and other chapters on my blog. i would love to know your thoughts on the story so far !

#caratlibrary #svthub #mingyu x reader #wonwoo x reader #mingyu smut #seventeen smut #seventeen angst #mingyu angst #wonwoo angst #seventeen fluff #svt x reader #chm updates

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pupyr0arz · 2 months

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thinking about obsessive Gaz still…him being a bit of a weird bff. Male reader.

It’s not a shrine. Shrines are childish, weird things built by freaks who obsess over people, complete creeps who probably have bones in their closets and lick printouts. It’s….a refuse drawer, that happens to have acquired a theme. Not even a collection, that would imply Kyle was being deliberate, which he isn’t. He’s only keeping your things so he can return them, but he can’t exactly show up at your house with just a toothbrush now, can he? It’s only polite, and he’s sure when he finally has enough knicknacks you’ll smile and pat Kyle on the cheek like you always do when you’re pleased and somehow manage to get away with it without being condescending. Maybe even knock your heads together, like you do when you’re sleepy and staying over for a movie, giving him long molasses moments with his nose to yours. He isn’t some weirdo following some girl around and stealing her panties. Kyle hasn’t touched a pair of your boxers, though he hasn’t been able to get you to stay more than one night. He thumbs over Ghost’s contact in his phone and thinks about crime statistics a normal amount.

He doesn’t have a drawer for Johnny or his other guy friends because they’re assholes, that’s all. You’re just his nice friend, the one who smiles and genuinely talks about your life and encourages him to be soft and sweet and buttery instead of raucous and harsh. Kyle wants to smooth his rough edges in your presence, wants to charm you and see things how you do, he wants his ladykiller smile to soften to something genuine. That involves picking up the things you leave behind with a pure kind and full intentions to return them, not in some creepy, awful manner that would make you call him gross and shut the door in his face.

Kyle is a considerate friend to you, dutiful and generous. When you’re hurrying out of the door, one foot in a hangover, he passes you the closest jacket. It’s his, by sheer coincidence, his rack is solely his own clothes, and yours had gone missing from atop the couch mysteriously during the night. Kyle doesn’t mention folding it and tucking it away, it’s his right to have a clean home and he’s a good host tidying up after his guest. He pretends to find it a half hour after you’ve left, ensuring the temptation to use it as an excuse to catch up to you or drop by and steal an extra conversation. Sometimes he struggles with long term rewards over the short term, and you’re no help. It’s the lottery ticket in your pocket, he’s discussing to himself, what else could he be speaking about? He considers laundry for half a second, holding the jacket tightly in his hands. It smells like you more than the deodorant does, deeper, and Kyle decides he shouldn’t make assumptions about your clothes. What if it’s dry clean only, or he uses the wrong temperature setting and ruins it? It’d be rude to assume your nondescript hoodie isn’t anything special to you. He picks up the glasses both of you had used and if he forgets to wash yours before he takes a sip, he’s a bachelor living alone and can blame it on habit.

Kyle likes inviting you over more than he likes going over to yours. Your apartment isn’t far, and it isn’t ugly or overly cramped, and you are never anything but an angel to him there, but Kyle needs sleep and he finds himself face down on your couch, staring into the black all night. Or wandering home, restless and chewing his fingers bloody for hours afterwards. He’s so antsy in a room filled with nothing but you and your things. He catches his fingers in a door once out of impulse, trying desperately to shove away the urge to pick up a little statuette from some sudden uncontrollable kleptomaniac urge, and you notice and fuss and soothe and suddenly he has the desperate urge to smash something and take it to his skin and he wonders if you would stitch it together and kiss it afterwards. Kyle keeps the bandage. He sits on the couch and stares through the tv and thinks about it and he can’t bring himself to look at you because if he does, that unnamed, unknowable buzzing under his skin promises something and he’s too scared of himself to find out.

In his apartment it’s better. Kyle can cling to himself, a better man, a good man, when it’s soft and more controlled. You’re comfortable among his things and he doesn’t feel the drive to take the place around him apart. It feels like someone has taken a hot knife to him when you leave, which is fine. He counts the days before it’s too needy and strange to ask again. When he gives you back the hoodie, it smells like the two of you and he fibs about finding it under the couch while cleaning. Kyle digs his nails into his arm under the coffee table when you ask about his day and he wonders wildly if you knew about it. He wants to show you the marks on his arm, prick tears into his eyes and have you soothe him, but Kyle knows better than that. He doesn’t have a response to your inevitable questions. It’s not weird for him to want to seek the affection either. He’s like everybody else in this, starved for attention and cradling the source of it. He’s just smart enough to not grip too tightly and bruise you.

#.bark #gaz #gaz x reader #cod x reader #male reader #cod x male reader #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #cod #kyle gaz x you #gaz x you #writing #snippet #This is poorly paced and nonsensical? Well it’s just me exploring a characterization so there #<- said in a ‘avoiding writing a plot voice’

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lovingjingyuan · 3 months

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You're speaking out of line again

Sunday is so handsome! He really is the most handsome man in Penacony. He even looks good when mad! My(our) pretty boy <3 Also mentions a side question In Pencony with Chadwick!

Warning: ooc? Toxic Sunday, toxic work environment

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"Just a moment," his soft gentle smile as he walks up to you and your patron. "Please I like to speak with you alone."

His eyes lay on you. Everything about him was angelic. The patron felt mesmerized by Sunday's angelic features. Sunday turns to your customer giving his professional demeanor.

"Apologies my dear guest, I'll have someone assist you in just a bit. I need to talk to my employee," Sundays brought his eyes towards you before grabbing your hand and leading you away.

Once out of the door, his grip became harsh and rough. He started to drag you to his office before closing the door then pushed you sitting on the couch as he approached you, towering over you like a fragile child.

"My dear... you of all people should know very well you're not supposed to interact with our guests like this."

You looked at him confused. You thought you did everything correctly. You were just assisting the guest, you followed all the manual and everything yet he still lectures you and only you. "But-"

His eyes hardened and he glared at you. You can see the jealousy tinted on his face arose.

"Do not interrupt me. I didn't ask for an explanation yet." He was always so much harsher on you.

He always expects the best from you. Behind the doors of his public image, he was stern, and cold a new person from the gentleness he puts out in public. Yet even with the angry expression his face was still of an angel.

"Why do you still take male guests? What? You're not satisfied so you need to start hauling over our guests?"

You were speechless at these accusations implying the kind of worker you weren't yet he kept dumping these infidelity statements at you.

"Speak," his voice averted to a more harsher and stern tone eyeing you while he crossed his arms.

Your words stumbled messy as you tried to explain without blowing up at him, yet you couldn't stop yourself from saying things that shouldn't have been said and were way out of topic.

Sunday's face darkens as he glares at you, "You're speaking out of line again." His voice was harsh and cold. Yet a bit of amusement in his eyes. "I'll cut out your pay for this month and you'll be held in a confined area of the dreamscape while we sort things out. Hope you can understand."

Your jaw dropped almost to the ground. Members of the Bloodhound Family dragged you away to a restricted area in the dreamscape.

Damn Sunday. You cursed as you sat on the desk. It was an empty room. A familiar room, all too familiar room. The same room they kept Chadwick's memory; isolating his memories from the world. The same room was kept from the public to punish people and take away their sense of rights.

And Sunday held you in there for a simple small argument. You did everything to try and satisfy him yet it was never enough. His expectations were harsh on you compared to others. He kept a perfect public impression. The angelic smile and features how can anyone not fall for it?

A knock came at the door, "May I please come in?" before you could answer Sunday walked in closing the door behind him with his infamous smile.

He walked over to you and softly slid his hand to the necklace he brought you sitting on your neck. The small angel wing diamond necklace. The wings looked similar to the wings on his head. His hand fidgets the necklace chains.

"Is everything going perfectly fine my dear?"

You nodded, but he frowned slightly bit, "I want to hear it from you. Do your job with your mouth not with movements" his voice became more demanding.

"Yes everything is going perfectly," you said sarcastically. His ears tense up a bit, "Why are you even here?"

He stopped in place letting go of your necklace, his smile fading in a stern expression you know so well.

"You're speaking out of line again..." His voice was cold, but you heard him say these words many, many times before and you know exactly what he meant: How dare you speak to me that way.

"Sunday I didn't mean to-"

He cuts you off "I'll have to lengthen your confinement if you keep speaking out of line."

Silence... The silence between you two when you looked away. After a long 30 seconds, Sunday's moods soften as well as the wings. He kissed you on your head. "This is the best choice for you to learn. All I want is to keep you safe..."

-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-

Anyway, I got CPR certified today! I thought I was gonna fail the test but I didn't! Also for my political/government test, I failed it... whomp whomp😭 I'm so far behind on work sooo yeah and my next political test is coming soon.

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr sunday x reader #sunday x reader #hsr sunday #yandere sunday

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scekrex · 22 days

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How about Adam x Tall!Male!Reader?? You can do whatever you want with this, I just thought it would sound tooth-rottingly fluffy.

(Like maybe y/n is around the same height as sera, or maybe a little taller).

I did not specify how tall reader is but it's implied he's about the same height as Sera :3

All I want is all you've got

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language

note: beta read by @drxgonspine

For Adam it was extremely hard to get used to the fact that his boyfriend was taller than him - the only angels that he regularly met and that were taller than him were the seraphims. Yes, there were other angels taller than him, angels above the seraphims but those weren’t creatures the first man often interacted with.

It was also not that he felt threatened in his masculinity by the fact that you were quite taller than him, no, it was just that he was not used to it that angels close to him were taller. All his exorcists were smaller than him, they always had been. The winners roaming heaven’s glorious streets were smaller than him. Basically every mortal soul that had arrived after Adam had been smaller than the first man.

Expect you.

And no one really had an explanation for that either, most of the winged souls in heaven had simply accepted it as it was - the seraphims had not.

But that was not Adam’s problem to deal with. The seraphims still treated you respectfully and for as long as they would continue to treat the first man’s boyfriend well, he could not find it in himself to care any more or any less about their conflict with his partner’s height. He himself - despite not being used to it - found it quite relaxing to have a lover taller than himself. Because different from Adam, you were a warmhearted soul who wore his heart on his sleeve. You were a rush of sugar, a bright light in the dark and a kind soul through and through.

While Adam was loud and roughless, you were quiet and calm. You were his safe space, his home. You were the person who knew the true Adam, the Adam who could be quite soft and gentle, the Adam who loved unconditionally. You knew sides others would never get to see because the brunette felt comfortable enough around you to show you these sides without hesitation.

A thing you would have not expected when the both of you had started dating, was that the first man preferred to be the little spoon when it came to cuddling. He would press his face against your chest, inhaling your scent deeply with every breath he took as if it was what kept him high, as if your scent and your warmth were his own personal drug that kept him going. Sometimes, during nights when he was not feeling well or when the both of your schedules had forced you to be apart for longer than expected, he would gently grab one of your wings and wrap himself up in it like a burrito, he’d roll closer and closer to your body until his back would hit your chest. Then he would free one of his hands to reach out for your arm and wrap it around his in your wing covered body.

He was quite a touchy guy in general. In public he would sometimes sit proudly on your shoulder as you would carry him to your shared destination. He loved being close to you even though he would never admit to it out loud. But that was more than fine with you - you knew he felt safe around you, that you and your body were a comfort zone the first man never had before but always craved.

He did not need to admit it, not when his actions made it so obvious that he craved you in more than just a sexual way.

A thing the first man also adored was to simply lay on top of you, either on your chest or on your back - he really did not mind both. Though you had come to notice that he liked it better to rest on your chest because that way it was easier to kiss.

Whenever you were sitting somewhere, he would surely climb into your lap, using you as his very personal seat, sometimes he would even bring his guitar with him, depending on the situation of course. You loved listening to his tunes, though sometimes you thought of them as a little extreme. But it made Adam happy to play them for you and you enjoyed listening to them so you were not really complaining. Especially because you were not able to argue against Adam’s one and only, “That’s fucking Rock ‘n’ Roll, babes,” argument. Because it was and it's a good kind of rock too. So mostly you simply enjoyed the tunes he would play for you on his guitar and listen to his rough voice singing harsh lyrics.

Being taller than Adam also had the upside of being able to carry him home whenever he was too tired to fly himself - which happened more often than someone would think. He was unable to hold back during concerts and whenever those were over, you would gladly carry home a sleeping Adam who would curl up against you and mumble sweet nothings in his sleep. He was adorable whenever he had the opportunity of powering himself out entirely. That was until the morning after - then he would often complain about how his entire body hurt and how he was growing old - bullshit in your eyes but that thought you kept to yourself.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you

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shadowdaddies · 8 months

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what do you think about cassian with a mate that used to get bullied before they met, And one day they’re at ritas and she sees her old bullies and she freezes up. He notices and reader explains what happened, her bullies walk up to reader and act all friendly bc of cassian, they wanna be in the army or something so they act nice but cassian beats them up instead, and takes her home UGHH THE ANGSTT AND COMFORT AND FLUFF👀🤍

Phew, I have a few angst requests in the works that I've needed some time to get in the right headspace to write. Thank you anon for sending in this ask, please enjoy Cassian being both therapist and mama bear

Karma

Cassian x Reader (angst to comfort/fluff)

Warnings: implied violence, mentions of bullying, lil bit of suggestiveness

You were resting your head on Cassian’s shoulder, holding onto his bicep with one hand while sipping on your drink with the other. You had your eyes closed as you enjoyed the music at Rita’s, basking in the peace of the evening you were spending with Cassian. You recognized the band starting to play a song you loved, and you began singing along. As you opened your eyes to turn to Cassian who was also singing along, your heart dropped into your stomach.

You froze, fight or flight mode taking over as you saw two familiar faces you’d prayed to the Mother you’d never see again, over by the bar. You quickly turned away, looking towards the ground as your shoulders curled inward. Cassian immediately caught on that something was wrong, gently rubbing your arm as he asked, “honey, what is going on? Are you alright?” You couldn’t help your reaction to his touch, instinctively shaking him off as the room felt like it was closing in on you. You couldn’t breathe as you started sweating, unable to lift your gaze from your shoes. You struggled to whisper to him, “I can’t be here. I need to go outside now,” before standing up and bolting out the door, Cassian following right behind you.

Once you got outside in the fresh air, you felt like you could breathe again. Pacing back and forth, you racked your brain for what you must have done in another lifetime to deserve seeing those two males here, in a place that was supposed to be a refuge for you. Cassian watched you, wide-eyed, as he observed this side of you he had never seen before. He didn’t want to touch you without your permission after how spooked you were in Rita’s, so he cautiously whispered, “angel, is there anything I can do?”

Cassian’s uncharacteristically timid question was enough to snap you out of your thought spiral, as you couldn’t help but giggle seeing the feared Lord of Bloodshed shifting on his feet as he tried to determine the best way to support you. Your heart softened as you took in the concerned expression on his face. You held his hands in yours as you took a deep breath, and tried your best to explain what was happening. “Those two males who arrived at the bar right before we left, they bullied me for a lot of my childhood. They are the reason for so many of my insecurities, Cass, and I thought I had moved past it. But seeing them in there... It brought all of those emotions back. I haven’t gotten any better. They still have power over me and I hate it.” All of your pent-up emotions poured out of you as the tears again threatened to spill.

Cassian took one of his hands from yours and brought it to cup your cheek. He looked into your eyes, and spoke with an unquestionable certainty, “You are beautiful. You are kind. You are loved. You are the most incredible person I have met in my life, and I can assure you that whatever problem they may have or had with you, came from their own faults and insecurities. Those males are not the type of people whose opinions we should value. Do you truly care what they think of you?”

You were taken aback by the question. You never considered if you even cared what they thought about you, and you felt the burden lift off your chest as you realized that you didn’t care. Why should you care what such hateful people think? You wouldn’t care about their opinions on anything else, so why about yourself? You shook your head as you took a deep breath. “No Cass, you’re right. I am above them.” Cassian smiled, “it’s normal to still be hurt by what they did. But you have grown, and continued to be kind, and that is how you have won.” He leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead before leaning back to look at you with a cocked eyebrow, “I can kick their asses for you, though.” You laughed, shaking your head as you took Cassian’s hand, walking home. “As much as I would love that, they’re not worth it.”

Almost as soon as the words were out of your mouth, you heard your name being called from behind you. You froze for only a moment before regaining your composure as you turned to see your former bullies approaching you. “It’s so good to see you! How are you?” They bombarded you with questions, acting as though they didn’t make your life a living Hel for years. You squeezed Cassian’s hand, both for support and to keep him from lunging at the males. One of them looked down at your joined hands with Cassian before they turned their attention to him. You seethed with rage as they flattered Cassian, asking him about joining the army and his connections in Illyria. Of course, they were so shameless as to use you to meet Cassian.

Cassian gave them curt answers until they asked about how they could join under his command. You were shocked to see Cassian smile as he invited them to the training ring the next day for testing to enlist. You abruptly dismissed yourself from the conversation, turning to continue your way back home when Cassian caught up with you. “What are you thinking, Cass?” you practically yelled at him. “Why would you want them as soldiers?” He smirked at you. “I didn’t invite them to enlist. I invited them to test.”

Late the next morning, you made your way downstairs to the dining room to grab some breakfast, when Azriel and Cassian walked through the door. You looked at their hands to see bloodied knuckles and you chuckled, “you two have some fun sparring this morning?” Azriel gave Cassian a sidelong glance as Cass winked at you. “Not sparring. There was testing this morning, remember?” Your jaw dropped, realizing the cause for their bloodied hands. “You two fought them?!” Azriel scoffed, “I don’t think you can call it that. Neither of them landed a hit.”

You laughed as you grabbed a rag to clean Cassian’s hands. “You shouldn’t have done that,” you attempted to scold him through your bright smile. He laughed, tucking your hair behind your ear. “I don’t think you need to worry about them bothering you anytime soon, honey.”

You pulled him by his hand, making your way up the stairs to your bathroom. “What do you say I finish cleaning you up in the bath, General?”

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willows-escape · 23 days

Text

Phantom HCs - Cherik with a Chubby!Reader

Pairing: 1990!Erik x GN!Reader

Warnings: fatphobia and nsfw content (has its own section)

Word Count: 2,370

Notes: This was a request that somebody sent me that I was really eager to write, as somebody who is plus sized/chubby myself. I might do it with the rest of the Phantoms I write for, but I don't know if that's something people would want to read?

Also, the series I spoke about in an earlier post - it’s still being worked on, but it shouldn’t hopefully be much longer. I’m looking to write around 11-ish parts, probably more, and I want to have three solid chapters written before I post the first one. Just so I can have the chapters to post while writing the next few. Having both female and male versions to write is also slowing it down, but I hope the wait will be worth it !

⟢ Erik does NOT care if you're chubby, skinny, average size or whatever. Your size isn't even a thing to him.

⟢ This Erik isn't as focused on stereotypical beauty as the others - he originally takes notice of Christine due to her voice, and the fact she looks like his mother is only an extra added bonus lol.

⟢ So I feel like your appearance is just not an important factor to him. It would be other things about you that would attract him first. Anyone could be stereotypically attractive, but not everyone could be you.

⟢ But don't be mistaken, he definitely thinks you're the most beautiful person in the world.

⟢ If you worked at the Opera Populaire, and he saw the way other workers teased you or gossiped behind your back, he'd be scratching his head in confusion.

⟢ He may be hopelessly infatuated, but he couldn't see anything about you that was laughable.

⟢ I'm not trying to imply this Phantom is ignorant or unaware of societal norms - unlike the others, he has a strong relationship with somebody who links him to the outside world. He hides due to his own flaws, after all.

⟢ He knows being slender and thin is the current ideal, but he also knows that ten years ago having a bigger body with soft curves was also largely desirable. So he didn't like to pay much attention to societies trends. They changed like the wind.

⟢ Which is why he'd sometimes forget that not everybody looked at you as if you were an angel that was sent from heaven to grace the earth.

⟢ If people's teasing and rude comments ever affected you so deeply that you brought it up to him, that would be the only time he ever acknowledged your body type. And his acknowledgement would only be vehement reassurance and exclamations of his affection towards you.

⟢ "But my cheeks are so fat, it makes my face look like a ball!"

⟢ "A very beautiful and loveable ball!"

⟢ He wasn't great at the whole reassurance thing.

⟢ After a while of courting you and as he began to realise how cruel some people could be to the most gorgeous person he knew - he began to feel a sense of solidarity with you.

⟢ He believed he was beyond hope and that he could never be accepted into the real world, and he wouldn't ever insult you by trying to say you were as repulsive as him. You were anything but that. Yet he felt as if you two were on some kind of wavelength.

⟢ You were both looked down upon for things as flimsy as physical appearances, and he felt a little closer to you due to that.

⟢ And he had a few existential crisis' where he laid awake at night thinking about how maybe society is the problem, not him, because how can they even ridicule you when you were perfection!

⟢ Then he'd take off his mask and look in the mirror and be like nope, he's definitely the problem.

⟢ Anyways. Less sadness and insecurity, and more fluff!

⟢ He loved how comfortable and soft you were. Erik had never held another person in his arms before you, never laid with his head on somebodies lap while they read him a book and mindlessly ran their fingers through his hair.

⟢ And he loved it.

⟢ His favourite time of day was when it came time to go to sleep, and he could lay with his head on your chest, arms wrapped around your waist and drift off into sweet sleep.

⟢ It took him a while to become so comfortable with this, though. It was weird enough that you two didn't have a chaperone during your meetings, never mind sharing affection. But if you asked him enough and tried to sneak in lingering touches and small caresses, he'd fold.

⟢ "Want to hold my hand yet?"

⟢ "Same answer as half hour ago, no."

⟢ "Am I truly so horrid that you do not wish to even hold my hand?"

⟢ "That is not what I said."

⟢ He didn't understand that couples followed these courtship rules in public, but were definitely smooching and snuggling in private. Even if you tried to explain that to him.

⟢ But eventually he caved.

⟢ He was touch starved beyond belief, so it didn't take him long to give in. Maybe a month or so. But it was also an awkward experience for him at first, so expect to give him a lot of guidance.

⟢ "This just doesn't feel right, why on earth would somebody lay like this when they are far more efficient and comfortable positions for somebody to lay?"

⟢ "That's because your arm's meant to be behind my neck, Erik, not over it."

⟢ "Ah. Yes, that feels better."

⟢ But once he got the hang of it, he was obsessed. Every part of you just fit so perfectly in his arms, you slotted together like puzzle pieces. It was glorious.

⟢ If you ever lived together, whether that be you go down below to stay with him or he manages to somehow bring himself to live with you amongst the real world (which would take many years and a ton of hard work), your evening conversations may look a bit like this:

⟢ "Excuse me, but when are you retiring to bed? Your scarf can wait until the morning." He was subtly glaring down at the knitting needles cradled in your hands as he spoke.

⟢ "Not long, just give me a few more minutes. I just want to complete this row of stitches."

⟢ "Alright, but when you come to bed, can you wear some of your summer nightwear?"

⟢ "But why? We're in the middle of winter, I'll freeze."

⟢ "I'll keep you warm." *leaves*

⟢ He definitely didn't just prefer the thinner fabric of your summer nightwear, which meant he could feel your body press against his and also allowed him to feel every curve of your figure with no barrier.

⟢ If you ever got married, expect him to just ask you to sleep naked. Not even for sexual reasons, he just loves the feeling of you.

⟢ You'd have a hard time refusing him in the colder months.

⟢ Also, imagine him singing you to sleep? His back resting against the headboard while you snuggled up against him, his hands delicately trailing over your skin and leaving goosebumps in their path as he sung to you.

⟢ That's an idea to elaborate on for another day.

⟢ Returning to the previous topic of his love of physical affection, kissing you would be magical.

⟢ And he'd be terrible at it.

⟢ The first time you kissed, you'd be the person to lean in first. And he'd look at you as if you'd grown two heads, but he wouldn't deny you. He'd go through many mood swings in the two seconds it took for your lips to touch.

⟢ "Erik," you'd eventually have to pull away, "Pucker your lips, and close your mouth a bit."

⟢ "My apologies."

⟢ That also has nothing to do with the head canon topic, I just wanted to include that.

⟢ Erik would love to draw you. Before he ever approached you, he'd spend his time making sketch after sketch of you, trying to immortalise every vision of you he had in his mind.

⟢ He'd get frustrated that he couldn't properly capture your true charm, but after a while of drawing for hours a day for a long period of time, he'd soon become an incredible artist. He wouldn't use this particular skill for much, unless you asked him to.

⟢ He also couldn't really draw anything that wasn't a person, considering his practice was very limited to one subject.

⟢ He'd have to send Gerard on trips to the store often to keep up with his new hobby.

⟢ "Erik, why do you suddenly need all this paper? The store clerk said he's had to order an earlier shipment of the stuff, because I'm buying up all his supply!"

⟢ "You wouldn't understand."

⟢ He'd also design and create the prettiest clothes for you, ones that would flaunt and uhm, extenuate, your best assets. So much material and thread would be stolen from the company in his pursuits.

⟢ He'd start doing this before you two even properly met, and when you began courting, you'd be taken aback by his display of clothing that he kept scattered around the catacombs.

⟢ Those dresses were probably not intended for him.

⟢ You'd grow especially suspicious when he began offering you these items of clothing, and how they all seemed to perfectly fit you like a glove.

⟢ "Erik, why are all these clothes my size? It's as if you took a measuring tape and made these clothes specifically to fit me."

⟢ "Just things the costume department had laying around."

⟢ "The costume department definitely does not keep clothing in my size."

⟢ "Well, they did when I got them."

⟢ Moving on lol

⟢ There are many reasons somebody may gain weight, but assuming you don't have a condition that causes it and simply appreciated food, Erik would be floored at all your weird and wonderful ways of preparing and eating your meals.

⟢ "What is in this bottle? It looks grainy, you aren't planning on putting this on your food, are you?"

⟢ "It's seasoning! Come on, try it! It makes the food taste a thousand times better!"

⟢ "Seasoning? Isn't that expensive?"

⟢ "Hey, you give me the money for the food, you don't tell me what category of food it needs to be spent on. I'm sure your salary is more than enough to cover the cost."

⟢ He'd grumble about how he was saving it for more important things, like wedding attire and a new instrument that he wanted to learn, but he wouldn't actually mind. His salary was definitely generous.

⟢ One time, he caught you sitting in the sun in the woods, and he was about to approach you when he saw the most baffling thing. You had a cloth splayed on the grass, covered in a weird brown substance that you were dipping strawberries in!

⟢ "What the hell is that?"

⟢ "Melted chocolate! *nom nom nom, gulp!* It's delicious with strawberries, would you like to try?"

⟢ "I'm quite alright, thanks."

⟢ Okay, your food choices were pretty normal, but for sheltered Erik who only ate things in their original state with no added flavour enhancers, he was shocked.

⟢ He might eventually expand his food palate, but it would take plenty of convincing on your behalf. He was perfectly happy with his unbuttered bread, thank you.

⟢ He was exceedingly stubborn.

⟢ But he's a fool for you, really <3

NSFW SECTION

⟢ You'd either have to be the most seductive person to walk the earth before Erik agrees to do anything sexual with you, or you'd have to be married.

⟢ Considering his intense attraction to you, it wouldn't be hard for him to consider you the first option.

⟢ For the purpose of this head canon, let's assume either one is true and he says yes.

⟢ The moment the first article of clothing comes off of you, he's starstruck. He can't believe he didn't say yes sooner.

⟢ He's torn between being regretful that he waited that long and feeling euphoric that he's really about to worship your body to his hearts content.

⟢ He's incredibly touchy feely. Consider every part of your body groped and kissed at least five times.

⟢ Favourite position is definitely you riding him. He'd have a few hang ups on it at first, as missionary back then was the only sex position that the church approved of, and he felt guilty about making you do so much work.

⟢ But he'd learnt his lesson about denying you by then.

⟢ You always had the greatest ideas, if those strawberries dipped in chocolate were anything to go by.

⟢ His eyes were greedy, watching the way you'd lower and lift yourself up and down his aching length. The way your skin stretched over your muscles as you chased your climax, eyebrows furrowed and shoulders hunched as you rested the palms of your hands on his chest.

⟢ He didn't know whether he wanted to keep his eyes locked onto you, or where your bodies were connected down below.

⟢ Just the thought made him so worked up and flustered he'd break a sweat.

⟢ His hands fit so perfectly in the dips of your waist, encouraging your movements as you rutted your hips against his. You looked like a painting, your plush thighs pressed tightly into his sides as you worked yourself into bliss.

⟢ He'd run his hands over every part of you, being extra cautious of being gentle. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you.

⟢ He definitely finished early the first like. 20 times you did that position. He felt terrible, but you considered it an amazing confidence boost. All apologies would die on his tongue the minute you'd lay down and ask him to finish the job by other means instead.

⟢ And speaking of thighs - his head being crushed by your thighs as he went down on you? God yes. He was used to the feeling of something constantly covering his face, and your legs were a welcome addition.

⟢ He's definitely messy and obviously inexperienced, so his rhythm would be uncomfortable and all over the place to begin with. But he'd figure out what drives you crazy in no time.

⟢ He's very, very eager to please. He'd worship every inch of you at every opportunity he could.

⟢ And have you seen this man's hands? Yum.

⟢ If you ever surprised him by wearing something skimpy or risqué? I hope you didn't have any plans for the next few hours. He's definitely taking his time with his gift.

THIS MAN UGH HE'S SO 😭💗

#phantom of the opera #phantom of the opera musical #poto #phantom of the opera x reader #gaston leroux #cherik #erik carriere #erik destler #erik destler x reader #erik the phantom #1990 phantom of the opera #phantom of the opera 1990 #the phantom of the opera #the phantom x reader

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ineffablydaydreaming · 9 months

Text

Okay i might be a little pissed off. Expect typos, im on my phone.

A character does not need a specific label, have a gender, nor have sex/romantic physical gestures in order to be queer rep

Aziraphale and Crowley are not gay men.

They are played by male actors. They present male most of the time. But that means nothing, because gender presentation =/= gender identity or sex.

Neil has said multiple times that angels and demons are sexless. It's on the book. It's on several of his tweets and answers to asks. This implies that angels and demons are non-binary by default. Gabriel isn't a man, Michael isn't a woman, Beelzebub isn't a woman, Furfur isn't a man.

And now, you could argue that a genderless creature isn't necessarily queer and I agree! Several animals are genderless irl.

But here's what makes them queer: it's not that they don't have a gender, it's that they don't give a fuck about it. Crowley presents female i believe up to three times in the show, Neil was planning a minisode where both he and Aziraphale are fem-presenting in the 60s; Michael is a male angel name and he's played by an actress and (At least in the portuguese dub? Correct me if im wrong) still called "he". Same for Beelzebub, who I think is also reffered to with they/them in english. Hell, God has a female voice and is still called God (the male version of the word!!!) and even Her pronouns are a bit flexible in certain dubs.

What makes them queer is that their genderless aspect isn't just biological, it's their identity, too. These characters are all non-binary, they know it, and they don't mind it.

"But they present male and call each other 'he'!"

As I said, gender presentation does not equal identity and neither does pronouns. It's words: words that get often associated with a certain gender but are, in the end, just words.

Not only that, but this argument also comes from the expectation that non-binary people cannot present themselves in a binary way, which is an absurd thing to expect. People irl have all kinds of different hormonal balances and many enby folk may be hypermasculine or hyperfeminine due to high testosterone or estrogen respectively. And you know what? They might not want to change that, and that is completely fine.

Non binary people do not owe you androginy.

Being trans isn't about appearances, isn't about transitioning, it's about identity. Thinking otherwise is borderline transmedicalist ideology.

Good Omens breaks gender norms all the fucking time in both seasons, something many shows are afraid to do, and it's not just for comedy reasons, which tends to be the norm when shows do it. They do it because it's fun, it's fine, and because they acknowledge that gender norms are stupid.

That's queer as hell.

My second point, no need for labels. Just like angels and demons don't need gender labels, they don't need sexuality labels. At all. Especially since they're often intertwined.

Just because two characters don't have their specific labels revealed doens't mean they aren't queer or, fuck's sake, don't love each other.

In A League Of Their Own, no characters get specific labels, what they are is simply implied. Greta is very implied to be lesbian but they never say the exact word. Does that mean she isn't queer?

In The Song Of Achilles, no characters get specific labels because hell, the labels didn't exist at the time the story takes place in. Both main characters are implied to be bi/pansexual but it's obviously never told in the text. Does that mean they aren't queer?

In Undertale and Deltarune, no characters get specific labels, but in both games the main protagonist is nonbinary (and is in both cases a human being!) and both games have several mlm and wlw couples and several more nonbinary characters across the storyline, but it's never specifically labeled. Does that mean it doesn't have queer rep?

Neil has said several times that Good Omens is a love story, that Aziraphale and Crowley love each other, that even if they're not 'gay male humans' they still feel love for one another. That's the entire point of season two.

And now, I get it, okay? I don't like authors tip-toeing around labeling their characters either, especially since in most places we are past the age of having to code characters instead of just make them openly queer. I get the fear and uncertainty that often came from some sort of trauma from bbc's Sherlock, I felt it too. I get that for some it may seem as if it's queerbaiting, or pink money, or simply being too scared to say a character is queer.

But that's just not the case with Good Omens. The point is not to avoid labels because they're scary. The point is that, for Good Omens, and aziracrow, labels are useless. They're not humans, they don't have a gender, they don't need the labels.

And you know what?

That's also queer as hell.

Society has to put people into boxes, has to separate folk, has to label everyone. No one can be different, and id you are you need to fit this specific box of different. If you go out, you're too much, you're too rebellious, you're a freak. If they just let people do whatever they wanted it would be hard to marginalize them and keep the system going.

A quote I once heard feels important for this occasion:

"To define yourself is to restrain yourself."

When you define something in strict terms you're putting rules to it. Rules that can be broken. Rules that should be broken. And the rulebreakers get insulted, hated, violated, killed.

Aziraphale and Crowley are breaking these rules by 'existing' as who they are. They're not gay men, they're not lesbian women, they're not bisexual agenders, but at the same time they are all of those things at the same time, whenever they want to, whenever YOU want them to, as Neil himself put it. Because fuck labels. And you're hating them for it, hating them because they're refusing to enter those boxes.

Humans are weird and complex. Let the angels and demons be weird and complex too.

Lastly, queer relationships don't need sex - nor kisses.

There's this expectation that romantic love is only true love if they kiss, if they live together, if they sleep on the same bed, if they go on dates, if they marry, if they have kids, if they have sex. Break one of these and people will raise an eyebrow. Break two and they look at you weird. Break three and everyone judges you. Break all of them and, suddenly, you and your partner have been declared "just friends" by outsiders who don't know you in the slightest.

Welcome to amatonormativity.

Or, better saying, another stupid box, another set of rules.

There's this headcanon that Crowley kisses Aziraphale as a last resort not because it's a gesture if love (even Neil said it wasn't out of love) but because he's seen it in human movies and, in movies, kissing someone in despair is a cliché that often ends in the other person not leaving.

This wasn't a love kiss. But Crowley still loves Aziraphale. Do you know why?

Because angels and demons, most likely, do not need human gestures to show love. They, most likely, comprehend love in an entirely different light.

Maybe Aziraphale is touchy with Crowley because he likes it and that is a good enough reason, but it's an individual reason, just like a person irl might be more fond of hugging their partner than kissing them, and that's fine. Nothing wrong with it. There's no right or wrong way to have a relationship. Acting like there is is reinforcing the rules set by amatonormativity, and it is also completely disregarding the experiences of asexual and aromantic folk. The entire spectrums btw.

Now think about the rules I mentioned earlier. Must kiss, must fuck, must marry etc.

Aziracrow also breaks almost all of them.

That's also queer as hell!!!

Being queer and celebrating pride isn't about having labels. It's about breaking societal norms: heteronormativity, cisnormativity, mononormativity, amatonormativity, etc. Norms that are used to opress us, to put us in boxes, to separate us, to marginalize us, and to kill us.

A show that gives the middle finger to all of these and just tells its story however way it likes, not caring about labeling the characters or having a long monologue about homophobia or showing a explicit sex scene between the two characters or following any of those stupid rules imposed by society, a society ran by cishet folk, is as queer as a show can ever be.

To deny that is to reinforce a narrative that is literally used to opress us.

That's all, bye.

Also, some of you guys are giving "I call beez she/her because of the actress" and that's cringe, but not surprising, ngl.

#hissing around #go2 #gomens #gomens 2 #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens season 2 #good omens season two #crowley #good omens tv #ineffable husbands #good omens spoilers #good omens s2 #aziraphale #rant

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beansricejc · 10 months

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John Wick x F!Reader: The Lurking Wolf

summary: stalker!JW finds you oh so fascinating. kind of a mesh of headcanons/one shot.

warnings: stalking, p in v descriptions, implied (potentially) noncon, male masterbation, unsolicited photography, murder fantasy, physical assault, mugging, general violence, cursing, bondage references, female reader (no use of y/n).

not proofread! uploading this at 12:15 am, so I’m def half asleep. pls enjoy.

the first time he saw you, it was a complete mistake. you were both at the New York City Trader Joe’s, which in itself is one of the busiest buildings in the damn neighborhood.

you’re walking out of the checkout line, reusable bag in hand full of wine and nice cheese for your friend’s dinner party that evening.

crash! a huge body slams into you, as the bigger person was in a rush, you drop your bag, and on instinct a pair of arms catch it for you before it hits the laminate floor.

his forearms are toned and tan, with his veins swelling under his muscular flesh. you even notice a pattern of multicolored bruises scattered on his brawny limbs. large hands grip the bottom of the bag, and a soft grunt escapes his lips from above you.

the scent of a car shop, aftershave, and few other things enter your nose while this is going on. it must be what this man smells like.

“oh, I’m sorry!” you apologize. you don’t know why you apologize, it’s certainly not your fault, it’s actually his, he was in a rush and wasn’t looking out for you. maybe it’s your anxiety spiking because you avoid confrontation, and John spots this out instantaneously.

your head tilts up to look at the accident prone man. unbeknownst to you, he’s the world’s most lethal weapon. of course you don’t know that, you just get lost in his deep brown eyes for a few seconds before laughing and flashing an awkward smile.

but John can’t keep his eyes off of you. he scanned your entire being, your figure, your pretty face. he snaps out of it when you apologize to him.

“no, it’s my fault. sorry about that.” his grumbly voice says to you while he hands you the tote bag. he clears his throat, and you take your bag back. you give him that nervous pressed lip smile that you give everyone, nod your head before you turn to leave the building.

you’ve made it a few blocks but you can’t shake the feeling of someone watching you. your cute little head has even whipped around your peripheral view a few times just to be sure.

you shrug the feeling off as your anxiety spiking from that grocery store encounter. naturally, you have no idea of the creature that’s following you back to your small Brooklyn apartment.

to John, you’re the embodiment of perfection. an angel on earth. every time he watches you from a suitable distance, there’s a tingly feeling in his chest and stomach. he doesn’t know what this is. he’s never felt this way about a woman (not even Helen herself, god rest her soul).

he’s even brought his camera he only uses for his targets whenever he comes to see you. he’ll wait in his black muscle car, right when your delicate hands open your bedroom curtains to let in the morning sunshine.

John gets to work. Pointing the lens at just the right angle, from when you reach on your tip toes to open window, giving John the perfect view of your well shaped hips and thighs.

he snaps a few more pictures and he can even spot some blue cotton panties that are revealed by your oversized shirt being a bit disheveled.

the blood rushes to his cock, and has to bite his lip to try to stop the feeling. it doesn’t help.

over the past few months of following you around, he’s come to realize he’s never actually interacted with you besides for the grocery store incident. he’s gotta change that.

there’s been a reoccurring fantasy that has haunted John for the past few weeks. for you to be saved by him. for John to be your knight in shining armor.

the things he would do to feel your body pressed to his. to have his arms wrapped around you, cocooning you in a protective position from harm.

well, he’s paid someone to find out. mainly to figure out if you’re a fight or flight kind of gal. he’s expecting the first option.

he knows your thursday night routine. your 9:30 pm trip to the bodega two blocks from your apartment. John assumes you have the munchies from those really low dosage THC gummies you buy from your friend Sam every other month.

he knows a lot about you.

and he’s paid a low level lackey to shake you up a bit.

the bell rings when you open the door to the shop, the cashier waved to you and greets you. you’re on a first name basis. John knows this, and the thought of you even speaking to another person of the male gender forces his blood to boil.

John has dreamt of putting his hands around the necks of the men in your life, besides for your step-father, and the nice old man at the local library you occasionally play chess with.

His strong hands would squeeze and squeeze as the men would gasp for air. With every blink of John’s eyes, the face would change. Your four ex boyfriends, your coworkers, your boss. The several guy friends you have in your big friend group. All of them, gurgling, gasping, choking. And then…

snap.

the hitman’s hands would finish the job. just another target. no, not just another target. a roadblock that has been demolished. one of the roadblocks, to you.

of course, John would wake up in a cold sweat, and for some reason, his dick would be completely erect from the images of taking the lives of the men you know.

his tip would be swollen and leaking of his precum. why was this the thing that made him the most hot and bothered?

the hands that have taken the lives of hundreds, gripping around his own girth and twisting, using his own arousal to lubricate it. but not too much, John prefers a decent amount of friction.

then his hand lurches up and down on his throbbing shaft. hips jerking forward. buck after buck. he’s picturing you, tied to his bedposts, legs spread wide.

the thought of thrusting his fat cock hard into you could make him finish if he’s not careful enough. but now? it’s coming in handy.

imagining the squelching noises from the sin you two are committing. damn near hearing your cries and whimpers, pleas of mercy, erupting from your lips, as your cunt quivers around his cock.

you’re taking him so well.

and oh, John’s letting you know.

“Good girl, how’s my princess feel?” he’d groan out, feeling how good your wetness is on his dick.

feeling you tighten whenever you’re close to climaxing.

but unfortunately, sometimes in these fantasies, they would go sideways, fast.

John’s eyes want to look at your chest and stomach, but he’s met with bloodied flesh. the crimson covers your soft torso, his hands, all the way up to your chest, which is bouncing with each needy thrust.

John’s head whipped to the side, realizing there were a few of your male friends, dead, on the bedroom floor, below you and John making love. was it love? or was it John getting his way?

with the cries of your duct taped muffled mouth, he couldn’t tell.

then John would break out of his dream, chest heaving up and down from the stimulation of the act.

“fuck…” John cursed, fist punching the bedside table. “I didn’t even cum.”

but here you were, back at the bodega late at night. you’re happily humming a song that you’ve been listening to a lot this month. John made a fake account, and followed you on Spotify.

cue that low level lackey we mentioned earlier. some gangster in his thirties, bald, with a goatee and big sunglasses.

you’re busy figuring out which Mexican soda you’d like. and tonight, you’ll be thanking your preference for that type of drink.

“gimme all your money, bitch! or you’re fuckin’ dead!” the lackey threatens with a nasty tone to his voice. you’re high but you jump, a gasp leaving your mouth.

“shit! okay.” you mumble, before a stupid idea comes to your head. it’s as if a little lightbulb turns on over your head, and your long eyelashes bat a few times.

“well!? wait are you waiting for?!” the goon asks, now finally pulling out his large firearm. of course it’s not loaded. he’s just been paid to play a part and scare you a bit.

you don’t wait.

John’s eyes widen as he watches from the bodega window, since your hand is reaching for the glass bottles of soda in the fridge.

his jaw drops when he sees your arm hurdles towards the goon. the bottle fractures right onto his pale bald head, the shards immediately exploding around you two, and also cutting into his scalp.

he’s bleeding everywhere. there’s even a few spurts of the soda and his blood on your face.

John has burst through the bodega entrance, as the guy he hired fell to the floor and covers his head from another attack.

and you’re still high as a kite during all of this, so you step back, and the bottom of your pink crocs slips on the cherry flavored Mexican coke that has splattered all over the hard floor.

so there you go, stumbling and making you body tumble backwards. cue Free Fallin’ by Tom Petty.

now, instead of your reusable tote, it’s you.

a pair of strong hands come into play. hands that have murdered, tortured, and paralyzed. the hands grab you by the waist, his grip is firm and safe, he’s got you.

John grits his teeth, moving ever so slightly to get a whiff of your hair. the scent of your coconut shampoo that you’ve bought on amazon a few times, make him go beserk. his heart faces, he swear he can feel every cell in his body stiffen up.

you’re facing away from him, he takes a quick peek at the back of your waist, up close and in person. now those dreams of pounding you from behind are slipping back into his head.

the moans, the slapping skin, the stench of sex in the air (which is just a mixture of cum, pussy, and sweat).

he has to use his fingers to dig into your sides a bit more just to force them away. he’s not sure if that even helps.

you catch your breath, trying to comprehend the events that are happening at the moment. unfortunately, you’re a bit foggy from being under the influence. the sting from John’s grasp is muted because of it.

but the scent of the man who caught you from behind is almost familiar. aftershave, oil, barbecue. that’s the exact same smell as…

“well hello again, sweetheart.”

…the guy at the grocery store.

————

tysm for reading! pls feel free to support with feedback, likes & reblogs! sorry for the different format, just been feeling a bit uninspired, and my summer is much busier than I thought it would be. love u all!

#john wick #john wick x you #jw #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves #john wick imagine #jw4 #keanu #john wick headcanons #john wick one shot #john wick fanfic

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bridgetoesoteria · 5 months

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💓Sunday Special: What lessons are your ancestors tired of you repeating?

In the spirit of Sunday, I wanted to post something that digs deep. What lesson(s) do they see you constantly repeating? Why does it matter? How can you move past it?

This reading is open to anyone who believes in some kind of guiding higher power, you needn't resonate with the term "ancestors." I'll be using terms interchangeably throughout.

As always, piles are left to right and I hope it resonates 😙

~ K

No TL;DRs with this post. Sorry not sorry 💋

Pile 1

Spread: 6 of Swords, The Lovers, King of Wands, Justice. Bottom of deck is The Star.

So this will be your main spread. It is about the lesson they see you repeating the most. When I started shuffling I heard "naive/naivete." I also heard, "you can't heal in the place that you are broken." I don't know if that's exactly how the phrase goes, but the gist is that you can't expect to get better in the same place that is harming you.

Coming back to your spread, for many of you this is pretty cut and clear. You are back and forth with someone. You could be in a constant "healing cycle" because of this person or situation. For some of you this person could be your dad. Maybe you would like to build a healthy relationship with them but it never works out. For others, I think this is some kind of romantic situation.

I've never seen the lovers card in this way but I'm noticing how much smaller the girl looks than the guy. Some of you could deal with toxic men who are older than you or controlling. **TW: Abuse** I clarified and it seems like some of you could be in an abusive situation which could explain the cyclical nature I was picking up on.

Whatever it is clearly breaks you down. You may want to end whatever this is but you don't know if you can trust your intuition and that you will be okay.

To be very clear, I do not believe in any kind of victim blaming. I wasn't expecting this message. So I don't mean "lesson," as way to imply you are doing it to yourself. In this pile its more like what concerning cycle are you repeating.

Why does it matter

I'm using this relationship question deck I bought online. Its not made with the purposes of tarot. The two cards on the left came out together which I think is meaningful.

It matters that you break this cycle because it is important that you build trust in yourself and your spirituality. Whatever higher power(s) you believe in, do you believe they can take you through anything? Do you believe that you will be supported if you take step in the direction you feel guided? This repeating scenario is similar to picking at a scab or poking at a wound. It is hurting you in the same place again and again, so you can never fully heal. For some of you, you may have kids that are watching you repeat this cycle.

Besides that I am finding it hard to pick up on anything else. So I think you are supposed to look over the cards and do some soul searching. It will probably have a different message for everyone.

How can you move past it

Power and Intention (Oracle) + Ease and Grace (Oracle)

I do think its worth noting that Guardian Angel is a the bottom of the deck. More than anything, I am getting to trust your angels (or guides, ancestors... you know what I mean). They don't want you to rush the process or to look to far ahead. Take everything step by step and remain grounded. Reach out to on your spirit team and trust the guidance you receive. Rely on any strong friends you have around you.

For some I am getting a male family member. This person could be older you and pretty serious, but their eyes hold a lot of emotion. Deep down they want to see you do better and will step up if you call on them. This could also be friend or someone that has passed.

Incorporating yoga, meditation, or other forms of mindfulness can help you navigate this situation. It can also help you get clear about your intentions.

Pile 2

Spread: 5 of Cups, Page of Swords, 2 of Pentacles, Ace of Swords. Bottom of deck is The Sun.

In some way, you could be ignoring the truth. Maybe you found out someone lied and you are very disappointed about that. Also, this might not be the first time you have been let down. I usually see the page of swords as a defensive card but usually this energy builds up over time. Like a bunch of small stuff just add up to the point where you are "always ready," with a certain person. So yeah...if you think/know someone is full of shit...they are.

The repeating lesson could very well be you continuing to forgive someone who insists on being a duplicitous ass. For many of you, it could be to the point where you are turning on yourself internally. Not sure what to think or do. I think you do what things to get better but you don't want to get burned.

Why does it matter

I'm using a non tarot, relationship deck for this question.

I see a message I was receiving earlier in these cards. I got a feeling that a few of you could want to study or pursue a career outside of what your family has deemed suitable or worthwhile. There could be certain expectations you are expected to live up to but I don't think you really want to. You are becoming more of a free spirit.

I'm not saying too much for this section in any of the piles. I feel like the messages will all be deeply personal and unique. So just reflect on the cards and see what revelations they hold for you.

How can you move past it

Compassion (Oracle) + Courage and Bravery (Oracle)

Just from looking at the cards I get an energy of bravery. I feel like you are being encouraged to step out on your own. You could resonate with Joan of Arc or the movie Brave. You could know that you have creative energy. So take that empress energy to plan and manifest your dreams.

Some of you need to turn that decadent, abundant energy inward and nurture yourself. For most of you, I think this card is asking you to extend compassion to yourself. It is asking you to find your joy and reasons to be happy in spite of the actions of others.

Your spirit team is asking you to call in reinforcements. They want you to know you don't have to go it alone. Not this time. Allow yourself to have human emotions about the reality of your situation. Don't judge yourself for whatever comes up. Some of you may feel guided to a "cut and clear" or some other kind of releasing/cleansing ritual. Your angels are with you right now. Some of you may want to be more honest and this card supports you speaking the truth.

Pile 3

Spread: 7 of Swords, The Star, The World, 10 of Pentacles. Bottom of deck is 2 of Wands.

So I was hearing "yikes on bikes," before I even drew the first card. Then I got the 7 of swords so yeahh... I am getting that most of you are the villain in this story. No judgement from me. We are just here to discuss the lesson your ancestors have watched you repeat too many times (for their liking anyway).

Some of you could be a little toxic. Maybe you are wishy-washy, up and down with your emotions, and a bit sneaky. I do think some people may have more than one person they are dealing with. You could be prone to emotional outbursts and possessiveness. This may or may not have been recommended to you yet, but you may want to consider speaking to a medical professional about this.

If it isn't you that is back and forth between two people, then you could be on the flipside. You could be on of two people that a particular person is dealing with.

However this resonates, I do think you have opportunities to get out of this but you don't act on them. You could even be making yourself "blind" to them because you are holding out hope.

Why does it matter

These cards are not tarot cards. They are from a relationship question deck I bought online. Please take some time to reflect on them. I believe they hold a unique message for everyone.

So the key to breaking this cycle may lie in your childhood. Maybe you were raised in a controlling or stifling atmosphere. This may make it hard for you to transition to being a full-blown "adult." Deep down you may not acknowledge how much you crave to feel totally uninhibited and it can lead to you being impulsive and somewhat emotionally immature.

Fret not, we do not need to be held back by our childhoods. Just because you are an adult does not mean you have to "get over it" or "grow up." There are plenty of ways to be lighthearted or expressive without upending your life.

There could be a specific support group that you would benefit from.

How can you move past it

Do The Work (Oracle) + Intuition and Downloads (Oracle)

I am using The Angel Guide Oracle for this question.

I think many of you know what needs to be done. You may also have people making recommendations to you. Do The Work makes it clear that there is some serious work that needs to be done to complete this lesson. You may feel tempted to escape this work because it feels challenging but you are being encourages to stick it out.

(Some of you could be struggling with substance abuse or another form of addiction. So this is kind of a mini intervention with your spirit team).

Intuition and Downloads speaks of receiving intuitive messages from your guides. For some of you it could come through in your dreams. You are really being urged to trust the "psychic insights" you are receiving. Trust that you are being led to healing and the best possible outcome.

#hoodoo #spiritual awakening #spirituality #tarot community #pick a card #intuitive readings #tarot #oracle reading #oracle cards #spiritual community #pick a card reading #ancestor work

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dragon-watcher03 · 6 months

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Genji x Male!Angel! Reader

Headcanons

Note: you are Mercy's older brother (so around 40) and are part omni on your torso, left arm, and head. You started working with Ramattra after he saved and revived you when your parents abandoned you in a burning building. You now work with Overwatch. You look like Angel from Diablo except your wings are black. You can change the armour as well but you gotta keep the hood. Reader is implied to be part omnic

Genji:

When he first saw you he kinda was scared shitless. I mean, can you blame him? But he was also kinda intrigued by you, mostly by your wings.

He loves the way you look tho. You have that perfect balance of mystery and grace that makes you so pretty. He knows you have a handsome face even without seeing it.

When he saw you fight for the first time, he was in awe. Your moves were so fast yet graceful and after you would just walk around like nothing happened.

He loves messing with you sometimes, like poking the blackness of your face. Although if it actually does annoy you he'll stop.

He strives to break down that silent and serious facade you put up. But he only wants you to show that side to him, no one else. Ngl he's kinda possessive of you-

When you do finally feel comfortable enough to show your face to him, he decides he should do the same thing as well. So you both take off your hood/visor for the first time since you started dating.

Safe to say he was not disappointed. You were even more beautiful than he imagined, and he kinda just stared up at you in awe for a long time. When you poked his face, he finally snapped out of it and was kind of embarrassed. That entire time he was contemplating whether he should kiss you.

You guys are actually able to cuddle and it isn't uncomfortable bc your human side matches his, plus he likes the coldness of the metal on his cheek.

When y'all are alone, he can be quite clingy. He's very touch deprived, but so are you so it's a win-win. He's always holding your right hand with his left so that you guys can feel each other's skin and for once feel like you're humans again.

Soba loves you (kinda like a dog tbh-), which in the Shimada clan is an omen that you've found your soulmate. So now you're stuck with him. Not that you're complaining. She will often leave Genji and wrap around your neck loosely while smooshing her snoot into your cheek or shoulder, asking for attention (which you noticed Genji also does when he wants attention).

Hanzo is a bit iffy about you and how you're 3 years older than his little brother, but after finding out you were related to Mercy, he relaxed a bit. He thinks you're chill and likes hanging around you. But he tends not to bc he knows Genji can get jealous easily.

Kiriko really likes you. Y'all are like this🤞 It honestly makes Genji jealous with how close you guys are. You guys often rant to each other about some random topic, and by both, I mean Kiriko is the only one who rants while you just listen.

Mercy is happy for you both. She knows what your parents did and just wants you to be happy. She does keep her eye on Genji tho, she wants to make sure he doesn't break your robotic heart.

Damn this was long-

#overwatch x reader #overwatch #genji shimada #genji overwatch #genji x reader #diablo #hanzo shimada #kiriko #mercy #male reader

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inhuman-obey-me · 11 months

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I wonder…… would it be actually possible for an angel and a demon to have offspring? And even then what it would be like? I don’t remember if there’s anything like that mentioned in the game, and considering they’re like, mortal enemies maybe in the bible lore I doubt that realistically there would be any answer apart from “no” but like……… imagine an angel/devil child in om and what it could mean for the three realms👀

Interesting question, since theoretically angel/demon physiology should be some kind of similar/compatible, but our answer is pretty definitively no, they could not have offspring together.

We have talked a bit previously about where we think angels and demons respectively come from in our Three Realms Headcanons post many moons ago, but here's a quick recap of the relevant parts:

All angels are created by their "Father" aka God; there is no concept of pregnancy or fertility amongst angels because God personally creates each of them.

Unlike angels, who are each created by God, some demons -- especially minor/lower ones -- are born through the manifestation of humans’ sins and negative energy.

Mid-tier and high level demons can be created through various means, including but not limited to sex. However, sex and pregnancy do not work the same way for demons as they do for humans. All demons involved have to consciously imbue themselves with magic that will make them fertile and guarantee conception; otherwise they are sterile by default.

This process also isn’t limited to a pair of male/female demons - multiple demons of whatever gender can contribute to the conception of a demon baby, and the child will take traits from every parent involved.

Other mid- and high-tier demon births can come from ceremonies, rituals, magic, etc.

We know that, canonically, the angels all call each other Brother and Sister, and all of them refer to God as Father as it is implied he is the one who created each of them. We also know that, as Simeon himself describes, "Lucifer and his brothers" were always a more close-knit group than how other angels interacted and they as a unit were their own separate thing. Additionally, it has been implied that angels do not necessarily get created as babies; although there are many "when you're older" comments made towards Luke, Asmodeus talks about the first Asmo Night being something like 1 week after his creation. Together, this all implies that none of them otherwise have "biological" families that that gave birth to them, and none of them can be parents either, as only God can create angels. Though to be clear, this isn't an "angels can't have sex" statement, only "angels can't have babies"!

Now, arguably since our headcanons for the demon side of births do include magical ceremonies and angels do have magic, there could perhaps be angel magic contributed into the birth of a demon. However, we also know that Mammon has suggested that angel blessings could kill a demon like him. Therefore, it would seem like rather than helping to create a new demon, it would hurt the potential demon baby or cancel out the demon magic in that process.

As for what a demon/angel child would mean for the OM world if one could be born, well, that's basically answered by MC's existence! Season 2 basically revolves all around the idea that MC has both angel magic from Lilith and demon magic from the pacts. And, well, Season 2 treats it as a deeply unstable combination that in fact threatens the safety of all three realms. So, maybe it's a good thing if there can't be any children born between angels and demons!

#once again us at every opportunity: god's an asshole #that three realms headcanons post is a primer for how we approach OM stuff haha #obey me #obey me!#obey me swd #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me nightbringer #obey me worldbuilding #obey me celestial realm #obey me devildom #obey me headcanons #ask and ye shall be answered

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chaifootsteps · 3 months

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so Lily Orchard made a video about Hazbin Hotel and it's kind of odd, tbh?

her coverage of the working / pay conditions basically boils down to 'animators just need to unionize' (seriously, she spends barely any time on it at all), which like, unionization would definitely help but it doesn't let Viv/Spindle off the hook for poor management in the meantime, & it's baffling to me that she implies otherwise. If Lacakdaisy and (as far as we know) other indie productions like Far-Fetched can behave professionally, why can't Spindle? (also like, absolutely zip mention of how the pilot cast were treated. nada. nothing.)

the entire hope of the indie scene was that it could grind up less animators than big studios do, & sweeping all that under the carpet is so deeply unempathetic to me. so animators being subject to poor deadlines, favoritism, unprofessional behavior, having their work literally stolen from them or going uncredited and then getting blocked when they try to correct it is no big deal, apparently? (which strikes me as funny bcause Orchard's work is so obviously inspired by The Jimquisition and Stephanie Sterling's work constantly critiques the game industry for its poor working conditions even though they also don't have unions)

a lot of the vid has this undercurrent of 'Viv has a big hatedom just for being a bi woman of colour and hatedoms are always bad and parasocial' and like - yes, I agree Internet mobs are bad. Yes, I agree people can get into a parasocial hatred of someone just as easily as parasocially loving or defending them. Yes, I agree someone who isn't straight, white or male is more likely to attract haters. And yes, I agree a lot of the criticisms of Viv are stupid.

my problem with this framing is it lumps in all criticims of Viv with the stupid ones. Again, does Lily Orchard not care about people being underpaid, overworked or uncredited? Does she expect unionizing to solve all the immediate issues people have faced with Spindle in the meantime? Also like - what Viv has done herself to feed this toxic environment goes totally unacknowledged. Viv's bad faith framing of her critics and multiple defensive threads get no mention, & Lily's video implies that only the critics of Vivzie are toxic and doesn't mention at all how bad /much worse some of her supporters are. none of the bullying and silencing attitudes from her fans get brought up; it's not like it would be hard to find when researching critiques of the show to see how even big creators like Cartoonshi were harassed into never covering it again.

I find her attitude towards the writing of HH odd, too. I understand why she doesn't like cartoons dragging their heels and stretching things out (goodness knows HB has been wheel spinning basically its entire second season and Western Energy was a complete waste of an episode), but calling HH's pacing 'breakneck' is generous. There's no time to breathe and none of the nuance or quiet moments she claims to want more of in other shows.

If the show is also about Heaven&Hell being an unjust sorting system as Lily claims, why isn't that more clear in the writing? Why is the viewer simultaneously supposed to believe Hell is full of murders and etc. but also is just full of people being unjustly persecuted. Even Angel Dust, the one character we're supposed to believe has developed the most, was a gangster in his human life & presumably killed people along the way, none of which the show bothers to examine even though his sister made it to Heaven and he didn't. (she has said she has no interest in helluva boss, which is a shame because I would have been curious to see if she would have convienently ignored the bootlicking praise for Stolas and the misogyny in the writing just because she seems to feel Viv is getting unfairly criticized)

she has said she's making a follow up that's more about the voodou issue, which she does agree is a problem, but idk. I just find it odd to watch a video where someone is willing to be critical of how voodou is represented, but the additional problem of real harm being done to up and coming animators is treated as not worthy of discussion. I think representation should be critiqued as much as the next person, but aren't the actual materia conditions faced by people working on the show as important, if not more important, than that?

Lily talks a big game for someone who molested her sister.

#anonymous #viv stuff #actual blog post

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evarius-111 · 1 year

Text

Hippie Life | Agent Whiskey

Synopsis: After being rejected by his target, Agent Whiskey decides to indulge in the festival a bit, where a certain sarcasm infested 'hippie' catches his attention.

Warnings: GN! Reader, sexual jokes, age gap (reader is in late 20s), references to implied SA, does fluff need a warning? They/Them pronouns used for reader.

Rating: M

Author's Note: This is my first time writing about Agent Whiskey, or Kingsman in general.. so please be gentle 💗

With full sincerity,

.Evarius.

The festival wasn't exactly what you had expected, but you guessed you just didn't get around as much as you thought.

Your flowing bright clothing laid loosely around your figure as you walked through the small crowds that are littered throughout the area. Your nose scrunched up slightly in annoyance as you passed someone who clearly forgot to apply any form of deodorant before they left their house this morning.

You sighed and brought your hand up to cover your nose, hoping to cover the scent with the bittersweet musk of the citrus hand cream you had lathered on before you left your assigned tent, but to no avail.

Eventually, you slipped out of the crowd and into a relatively clear area of the festival grounds, allowing you to take in a deep breath of the fresh summer air.

The sun was warm on your skin, sending waves of heat through your limbs as you began to finally relax since you'd gotten here the day before.

Sadly, your relief was cut short as you felt a leather jacket roughly brush the exposed skin of your forearm, making you flinch as you were shoved to the side.

"Ah, so sorry, Angel"

A deep, voice that is doused in a southern accent speaks from beside you, making your head swing to the side quickly to see who the voice belonged to.

Your breath hitched quietly in your throat at the sight of the man who had just bumped into you. You had to admit, he was very easy on the eyes.. and was definitely an attractive man.

"It's fine." You muttered quietly, pulling your gaze away from the taller male.

A small smirk formed on his face, and he sent you a sly wink as he continued walking.

You paused, a small warmth started in your cheeks, one that could easily be blamed on the hot air surrounding you.

At least that's what you tried to convince yourself.

You grunted softly in relief as you sat down at the bar, your limbs hurting from all the walking you had done during the day.

You could technically call the day a success, since you did have a little fun mingling with some people that had the same world peace mindset as you, and what's better is you didn't have to use the small container of pepper spray that's tucked snugly in your loose orange pant pocket. Of which had sadly became a common occurrence in places like this.

The bartender flashed a sweet smile your way, her short black hair bouncing as she walked over to your side of the bar counter.

"Can I get somethin' for you darlin'?"

Her English accent is strong and charming, making you feel very much more at ease. You smiled at her in return, nodding as you ordered your favourite (non-alcoholic) beverage.

'It's best to stay sober in places like this' you thought to yourself.

She nodded her head with a bright grin,

"Comin' right up, doll"

Then she was off, walking off to get your drink ready.

You shuffled around in the barstool, your eyes flicking down to look at the brown wood of the countertop. It's a nice, soft colour. Easy on the eyes.

A glass of your favourite beverage was placed in front of your line of sight, and you glanced up to see the bartender smiling softly.

"There ya go, darlin'" She tapped the wood with her fingertips with a kind beam before moving away again to another person that is waiting to order. You say a small and polite 'thanks' to her as she leaves, leaving you alone with your glass.

You wrapped your fingers around the cup and brought it up to your lips, sipping the drink shortly, before placing it back down on the wooden counter as the cool liquid flowed down your throat.

"Ain't gon' drink, huh?"

That voice again.

You glanced over your shoulder and saw a familiar broad shouldered brunette standing only just behind you. Your eyes narrowed and your right eyebrow raised a little.

"You stalking me, cowboy?" You accused, with a slither of sarcasm lacing your voice as you speak, looking him directly in his cocoa eyes. He grins widely, moving to sit in the stool to the right of you.

The steel creaked under his weight, making you chuckle quietly to yourself as you took another sip of your refreshment.

The mysterious fellow sent you a charming smile as his eyes flicked down you, giving you a once-over. His eyes settled on your face once again, before he parted his pale pink lips to speak.

"What's a pretty lil' thing like you doin' all alone?"

He asked, his voice deepening an octave as he tried his very best to charm you. If you were an idiot, it might've worked, but luckily for you, you're not.

You rolled your eyes, taking another sip of your drink to prepare yourself for this conversation.

"Well, I was enjoying my time alone" you sighed, and he laughed gently in response.

"Sorry to impose then, sweetheart"

He apologized, resting his forearm on the wooden counter in front of you both, all whilst his other hand rests on his left hip. You raised an eyebrow again, letting a small scoff-like laugh leave your lips.

"But you won't leave, I'm guessing" you said, leaning forward against the counter as well. He smirked and looked at you again, shaking his head.

"Nope" He grinned, popping the 'p'.

You rolled your eyes again in response, taking yet another sip of your drink.

"You always drink alone?" He questioned, tilting his head to the side, causing his obnoxious cowboy hat to bob slightly. you had to stop yourself from laughing at the sight, and so you nodded quietly, leaning against your elbows.

"Could I have the pleasure of knowing your name?" He coaxed, leaning a little closer.

"Any closer and I'll pepper spray you." You warned, your gaze not leaving the glass cup in front of you.

He immediately leaned away, nodding in understanding as his eyes widened a little at the threat.

"Alright, alright.. sorry" he mumbled, looking away awkwardly.

The silence was loud, and honestly made you want to scream your lungs out at how annoying it was.

"..." He stayed silent, but sucked in a breath, as if preparing himself to speak. You audibly groaned, lowering your head as you ready yourself for whatever charm trick he's going to pull.

"You into all this... hippie shit?"

He spoke slowly, as if questioning his own words as they left his lips. You shrugged, "depends what you mean by 'hippie shit'" you retorted, side eyeing him.

He hummed as he thought as to what exactly he means, clearly unsure of himself, seemingly for the first time in a while.

"I dunno, sex, drugs, et cetera.." he muttered, nibbling on the inner corner of his cheek after he finished talking.

You laughed quietly, shaking your head slowly, which made him perk up slightly, a small prideful smile pulling at the corners of his lips at the fact he could make you laugh.

"Wouldn't you like to know, cowboy?" you mused sarcastically, glancing at him for a moment.

As arrogant as he his, you can't deny he's handsome.

Plain white shirt that's a little too small for him, black leather jacket with a brown collar, and especially tight denim jeans.

"Yes actually, that's why 'm askin', angel" he joked, tilting his head again.

You chuckled quietly, a small grin pulling at the corners of your lips. "Angel, huh? That's a new one" you snickered, tapping your fingertips against the cool glass that's tucked snugly in your hands.

He smirked, nodding with a smug look.

"What can I say? You definitely look the part" he praised, looking you up and down in a joking manner as he gestures to your flowy clothing.

You scoffed, shaking your head, but you can't deny the small smile that forms on your face.

"Well aren't you a charmer, cowboy" you mocked, smirking at him slightly. He laughed, glad that he hadn't completely creeped you out.

"You know it, Sunny" he said with a grin, flashing his pearly whites as best he can. It definitely worked.

"Sunny?" you questioned with a chuckle, your eyes narrowing slightly as you look at him. He simply gestures to your shoulder, that is exposed due to your short sleeve drooping slightly down your arm, which also has a small sun tattoo plastered on your skin.

You glanced down, and nearly cackled from how cheesy that nickname actually was in reality.

"Oh my god, you really are a charmer, huh?" You laughed, glancing up to look at him again.

He shrugged with a smirk, "it's what I do best, Angel" he said, before taking something out of his pocket.

A mini bottle of whiskey.

You almost die at that, a snicker breaking through.

"Is that a baby bottle of whiskey?" you chortled, and he nodded with a grin, before snapping off the cap and downing the amber liquid easily.

If it wasn't for the fact you'd seen people chug an entire bottle of whiskey before, you might've been impressed.

"So, now that you're not threatening to spray me in the eyes with liquid peppers, may I finally have your name?" he asked as he tucked the -now empty- tiny bottle of whiskey back into his jacket pocket.

You thought silently for a moment, wondering if you should indulge a bit. He seems nice enough, considering he hasn't tried to grope you.

Fuck, the bare minimum is fucked, huh?

"Y/N" you said quickly, before you could back out of it.

He smiled brightly, clearly happy to of earned this information about you.

"Nice to meet'cha.. the names Jack Daniels, honey" he grinned, looking directly into your eyes, with his chocolate brown ones.

You raised an eyebrow, "Jack Daniels? Like the whiskey?" you laughed, tilting your head slightly in question as you looked at him, allowing your gaze to linger.

He nodded casually, a small smirk pulling at his lips.

"Exactly like the whiskey, Angel." He cooed jokingly, before raising his hand and turning his head to look at the bartender as he clicked his fingers, snatching her attention.

"Whiskey please, doll" he ordered with a charming smile.

She smiled and nodded, grabbing the bottle of Whiskey and pouring him a glass, before setting it on the table in front of him.

He mumbled a thanks with a grin as he grabbed the glass, taking a slow sip from it.

You laughed softly, "so your name is Jack Daniels, and your favourite drink is Jack Daniels? What a coincidence" you said sarcastically, sipping your drink again.

He smirked, raising an eyebrow at you as he sets down his glass again.

"You callin' me a liar, Sunny?" He accused playfully, feigning offense as he presses a hand to his chest, right above his heart.

"I'm hurt!" he gasps dramatically, causing you to laugh and shake your head.

"Of course not, it's just amusing" you say, smirking right back at him. His eyes seem to flick down at your lips for a moment, a small grin on his face as he thinks for a moment, before snapping out of his trance and taking another drink from his booze.

"How so?" he coaxed, leaning a little closer. This time, you refrain from threatening him, instead chuckling quietly.

"Did I not warn you about leaning closer?" You mused jokingly, tilting your head as you look at him. He shrugged, smiling.

"Yeah, I'm just ignoring you" he joked, leaning even closer.

You could smell the whiskey on his breath, but shockingly, you didn't immediately recoil and gag. Instead, you stayed in place, smiling slightly at him.

"How sweet of you, cowboy" you joked, tilting your head again. He grinned, liking how you've finally warmed up to him.

"I know, I'm a real sweetheart, ain't I?" He grinned, before taking another sip from his glass. "So, you got a tent here?" He asked, looking at his drink as he leaned away again.

"Why do you wanna know, Daniels?" You smirked, with a slightly flirtatious tone of voice. It's all jokes though, you think to yourself.

He looked at you again, shrugging with a grin. "Just wonderin'.. you seem like the type to stay over at places like this" he said casually, and now it was time for you to fake hurt.

You gasped and press a hand to above your heart, your expression morphed to faux offense. "What's that supposed to mean, Jack?" You raised an eyebrow in mocking suspicion. He pouted, "you know I don't mean to be rude, honey" he purred, and his tone of voice was sweet. You can feel your heart skip a beat at that.

Why did that voice have an effect on you?

And why are his lips such a pretty shade of pink?

You pushed the thoughts away before they can fester, deciding to shrug off the feeling of your racing heart. "Well, Mr. Whiskey, it certainly sounded like you did" You accused matter-o-factly, but there's still a tone of humour in your voice that keeps the joke rolling.

"Well," he mocked your octave of voice, "don't believe everything you hear, Doll face" he smirked smugly as he looked at you.

You paused, before laughing, causing him to break and start laughing too.

You both cackled together for a few moments, with you folding over slightly to hold your stomach as it began to hurt from the force of your laughter.

You calmed down after after a couple seconds, followed closely by Jack.

It was silent for a few moments, but this time, it's a comfy silence.

Suddenly, your comfortable moment was broken by a strong British accent from behind you.

"Whiskey, we gotta go, it's done"

You turned your head to look behind you, where you see a boy who looks about your age, maybe a little older. Jack glanced at him, and groaned softly in annoyance.

"Can't ya' see I'm in the middle of something?" He sneered, his eyes flicking to you for a moment to try and get the other man to catch on.

"I don't care what you're in the middle of, we need to go!" The boy said, with a sense of urgency, as if he had just majorly fucked up.

A slight sense of disappointment filled you as the conversation between you and the cowboy is swiftly ended, causing you to nibble on your lower lip to resist the urge to say something stupid.

Instead, you decide to do something stupid.

As Jack sighed and moved to stand up, you reached out and gently grabbed his arm. He turned his head to look at you with surprise, his lips parted slightly in confusion.

You nervously bit your lip as you roughly stuck you hand in your pocket, feeling around for the pen you remember having in there.

There was a folded napkin on the counter, so you just snatched that up into your hand and messily wrote down your number, before shoving the napkin into his hand.

"Only call if it's urgent" you said jokingly, cracking a smile at him, which made him smile back, tucking the napkin into his pocket.

"I'll be sure to annoy you" he joked, before winking and walking off with the other man.

You sighed slightly, silently wishing your time hadn't been cut short. You had only just finally warmed up to him! Maybe the universe just hates you.

Although, you can't help but smile as you see the older man slap the younger one on the back of the head, muttering curses under his breath.

Hopefully he doesn't die before he has time to call you You think, chuckling softly to yourself.

If only you knew.

#kingsmen secret service #kingsmen golden circle #fanfiction #pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #agent whiskey #jack daniels #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x reader #jack whiskey daniels #agent whiskey x y/n #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x reader

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