#god take me to this fantasy world I beg
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Sometimes I write (quite) eloquent paragraphs & essays analysing characters and metaphors and passages from books that moved me,, sometimes I brainrot word vomit headcanons and theories into my tumblr drafts until I feel physically sick missing imagined people - there is no in between
#oh to be a reader#it’s okay I cry myself to sleep at night#Babel philosophising but also the poppy war shit post#ah yes#the duality of man#the two genders#god take me to this fantasy world I beg#rf kuang#book rambles#books#just reader things#legendborn
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Guess who's suffering from writers block!!! No but fr I wanna write SO BAD but I just can't 😭😭 so take some twst pp hcs until I decide to work on commissions again
Not proofread idc shank me
♧CW!!! Fem reader! twst dick hcs duh, every NRC student EXCLUDING ortho, might have some other hcs too
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Riddle:
Its... cute? Idk how to explain it
He is VERY sensitive
5.5 inches
Slight curve downward
The tip is a really deep red
Cum is watery, tastes like rosewater(this is a fantasy world i can make cum taste like anything i want)
Balls aren't all that heavy, very soft and squishy tho
Likes rimming. No further comments
Trey:
EEK MY BOY
I'm gonna try not to be biased
Hes BIG tho
I know you've seen him. Let's be honest, we all know he's PACKING
So I'm gonna say a solid 7-8 inches with a nice amount of girth
No curve, but very veiny
Heavy balls. Like, HEAVY. Bros got a whole bakery in there
Soft pink tip
Cum is the normal consistency, he takes care of himself
If you're sucking him off he'll change the flavor of his cock and his cum to whatever you want (thank god for doodle suit)
Cater:
Easy 7 inches
Not too sensitive, it takes a while for him to cum
His cum is pretty thick, its all the spicy ramen he eats
Curve upward, huge thick vein going from his balls to the tip
Cum tastes salty, but not overwhelming
Will have his clones fuck you silly
Deuce:
Another small boy
I'll say 6 inches, no curve
Hes sensitive too, but not as much as riddle
He really like getting his balls sucked more than his cock itself
Cum is watery too, but it tastes good
Like sweet in a way
Tip is a light blue dont ask why
Ace:
Another small boy 😭
He is CLUELESS
Poor man is a one pump chump
5.6 inches, curve to the left
SENSETIVE. pussy got this boy on his knees
Balls squishy, balls soft?
Yes to both
His rip is red, like a blush red
Azul:
A good 6ish inches with a curve downward
Not as sensitive as you may think
I think it would be funny if the bottom of his cock had like little suckers or some shit
Tip is dark purple and he has some veins, not many tho
Heavy balls, no squish :(
Cum is thick and black bc octopus
Tastes like what watered down hand sanitizer smells like
Jade:
😨
Its slimy.
No further comment on that
No but its like wet, a lot
So is floyds but we aren't there yet
Its like lube 🥺
Okay but he's LONG
8.5 AT LEAST
He also enjoys rimming
Tip is dark cyan
Cum is slimy too
Add some borax water and sell it on etsy
Floyd:
Basically the same as Jade
Hes smaller tho
Hes 6 inches but has SO much girth
His cum is more watery than slimy and the tip is a light blue
Lots of veins too
Kalim:
6 inches
So sensitive
He begs.
Loves blow jobs but would NEVER ask for them
Heavy soft balls
A dark brown tip and there's lil red swirlies
Cum is thick
Tastes like coconut toothpaste
Jamil:
mmmmmmmmMMMMMMM
BIG
So big
Destroy me PLEASE
7.8 inches and a big curve upwards
Likes fingers in his ass, just like Kanye west
Doesn't like blow jobs he cums too quick :(
Gets overstimulated easily and when he does hes highly submissive
Cum a lil thick (its all the curry he eats)
Its yummy tho
Tastes salty and a lil sweet
Like a pretzel
Tip is a redish-brownish
Vil:
Hes a very odd case
Hes big, dont get me wrong
But mans does NOT have sex 😭
He complains it ruins his makeup
7.4 inches with a few veins
Oh yeah hes unclipped too idk why but he is
Tip is a pinky purple color
Balls got some weight, they're not sensitive
Rook:
Hes an even weirder case
Hes very big but almost NEVER penetrates you
Hed much rather be in between your legs for hours on end
Making you cum on his face gives him so much pleasure
He doesn't touch himself either
When he's eating you out he has one hand thrusting fingers into your pussy, the other hand thrusting fingers into your ass(hes an ass man I know he is) while he sucks on your clit the whole time
He cums on the sheets whenever you do bc he knows how good you feel
Hes 8.5 inches with a curve down, large vein going upward
A creme colored tip
Cum normal consistency, you don't know what it tastes like because he never let's you suck him off :(
Epel:
Small boy
Whimpers
A lot
Hes 6 inches with a curve to the left
Light purple tip bc I said so
Light balls, but no squish :(
Cum is watery and tastes like lavender oil
Idia:
Oh god
Contrary to popular belief he has a lot of stamina
He doesn't have ANY experience tho
Played a lot of hentai games but thats the extent of his experience
I think it would be really funny if instead of whispering dirty talk or praise during sex he tells you the fnaf lore
Like he'll be blowing your back out and he'll just be like "so the crying child was actually william aftons son-" and then he cums
After hes done and doing aftercare he'll quiz you on the fnaf lore
If you get any of the questions wrong he'll fuck you until you can't walk as a punishment
If you get them all right he'll eat you out for hours until you also can't walk
Win win honestly
8 inches
TIP IS BLUUUEEEEEE
Cum is thick and salty, he doesn't take care of himself
Heavy, HEAVY balls. Very sensitive
He loves blow jobs too
Leona:
8.8 inches, but if we're being real to how ACTUAL lion anatomy is hes closer to 3 inches but yall aren't ready for that convo
Not sensitive at all, it takes so long for him to cum
But when he does hes so sweet, whispering praise after praise to you and lots of kisses
Cum is normal consistency, a lil on the thicker end
Its a bit bitter with a sweet aftertaste
Hes also unclipped and I will not elaborate
Idk if lions have them but if they do then he has a knot, not as big as jacks tho
Heavy balls, they're sensitive
Brown tip, like, dark brown tip
Ruggie:
7ish inches with a curve down
Also likes eating you out
Doesn't like having his balls touched
They're cute and squishy tho
Cum is also thick and doesn't taste like anything
Tip is a light brown and has a vein going through it
Jack:
8 inches.
Has a huge knot. Physically cannot pull out when it comes to it
Cum tastes like strawberries
Doesn't let you suck him off often bc he doesn't wanna knot in your mouth
Also gets pleasure from eating you out
Tip is grey and sensitive
Malleus:
Hes also like rook in the way he'd eat you out for hours if you'd let him
But he does penetrate you
Our big dragon boy loves the feeling of being inside your tight cunt
Will probably cum if you praise him
He has 2.
One on top one on the bottom
The one on top is longer, 9 inches while the one on the bottom is 7ish, the bottom one is a lot thicker tho
He'll be so slow easing them in and almost never goes fast when it comes to sex
He sees it as love making
They both have a black tip and the cum is normal consistency, tastes like... eggs? Hardboiled don't ask
Oh yeah his cum glows in the dark
Lilia:
Idc what you guys say this man is SO EXPERIENCED
He knows how to have sex properly and can make you cum in seconds if he feels like it
7 inches, his dick is where all his height went
Because he's so experienced he doesn't cum easily
PINK TIP PINK TIP
His cum is normal consistency, a little watery maybe
Tastes like citrus
Silver:
Loves when you ride him
Likes missionary too tho
7 inches too
His tip is grey
Very sensitive and gets overstimulated easily
Hes also just very submissive in general
Cum is watery and tastes like what a new car smells like
Sebek:
LOUD
SO LOUD
CANT TAKE THIS BITCH ANYWHERE
Cries during sex
Loves when you pull his hair
Does he have horns? If he does they're very sensitive
Cums if you touch them
Hes a crocodile right
Nah he has horns
8 inches no other comments
GREEN TIP
Cum is thick and bitter
We love him tho
Balls squishy
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A/n: im so fuckibg tired god help me
#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland smut#twst#twst smut#jamil viper#idia shroud#leona kingscholar#malleus draconia#azul ashengrotto#jade leech#floyd leech#kalim al asim#lilia vanrouge#sebek zigvolt#epel felmier#rook hunt#vil shoenheit#jack howl#ruggie bucchi#all of these are x reader#twst x reader#twst x reader smut#twst hcs#twst headcanons#twisted wonderland headcanons
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Gods of the Dark | Two | myg (m)
☾ Pairing: Dream god!Yoongi x f. human!reader
☾ Summary: Don’t ask for help in the dark. It’s an old tale you always heard whispered among the people of your village. But when you find yourself dragged kicking by the man you’re to marry, you have little choice but to beg for help long after the sun has set. The god who answers your pleas promises to save you, but every deal comes with a price.
☾ Word Count: 21,443
☾ Genre: Fantasy, angst, strangers to lovers, smut
☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.
☾ Warnings: Sexist and patriarchal society inspired by medieval europe, a lot of world building and discussion about theories/concept of dreams, discussions of morals and ethics, world building, angst, mentions/light depictions of an abusive family, discussions of gender roles and forced marriages, attempted murder via arson, sexual dream sequences, depictions of oral (f. receiving), exposed bodies (in a brothel), pining, townsfolk essentially bullying reader, intense nightmare sequences, light depictions of PTSD (including memories of almost drowning/being physically attacked), explicit language, idiots who are obviously into one another being idiots, recreational drinking, topics of desire, feelings of shame, depictions of anxiety and fear, slight voyeurism, attempted murder
☾ Published: December 2, 2023
☾ A/N: It's finally here! This chapter took so long to write and I want to apologize for how long it took. The creative process can be so difficult sometimes, and I have been having a very hard year, which reflects in my writing. Thank you for sticking with me - I really hope this chapter is okay. This originally wasn't going to be as slow of a burn as it is, but this is where the story took me naturally, so I hope that's okay with everyone. I am going to be adding an extra chapter to this now to tell the story the way I want, so we will have five total chapters to this. I am already working on chapter three, and my goal is to write just this series until the next three chapters are done! Note: The sections of italics are used to indicate dream sequences for this fic - the way I use these are very specific and with intent... that's the only hint I will give you.
A huge thank you to @here2bbtstrash for being my beta reader - I give them huge beta projects with very little time to do them, and this story would not be nearly as polished or tuned as it is now without them. Also thank you to everyone who has been so encouraging and patient with me - your kind words are not lost on me and I'm thankful for you all!
☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.
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Eyes in the sky crying geysers
How dare I have private desires
-
First is your mother’s screaming. It’s loud enough to make you clap your hands over your ears, wincing as she drops all of the things in her hands. Second is your father storming into the house like a hurricane, an axe clutched in his hand from cutting wood in the yard. When he sees you, he blanches and takes a few steps back, raising the axe.
“Demon,” he whispers. He reaches for your mother and pulls her behind him. “You are a demon.”
“No, I-”
Without a warning, your father launches the axe at you. You scream, arms going up to block your face, unable to dodge the attack. There’s a loud crack as the axe hits an invisible barrier. You feel your hand fly to your open mouth, staring at the axe that’s now hewn in two on the floor.
Silence follows the destruction of the weapon. In that silence, it occurs to you that your father has attempted to kill you, and was only stopped by whatever protection Yoongi promised you. The realization is dizzying and you stumble away from your parents a little, bumping into the wall that separates the kitchen and the entryway.
No one says anything at first. Your mother clings to your father, trembling violently. Her hair is greyer than you remember and it looks like the last few days haven’t been kind to her. But she has always been soft and weak.
It’s your father who no longer looks the same. Always such an imposing figure in your life, he looks aged. His face is wrinkled, his hair is grey. His presence is so much smaller than you remember, once full of rage and ferocity, now just a terrified man in a doorway.
You cannot believe this is the man you’ve spent most of your life afraid of. Where once stood a great fear of yours now stands nothing more than a shadow of a man. Weak. Afraid. Vulnerable.
“You can’t hurt me anymore,” you say in a voice much steadier than you feel. “You can’t marry me off, you can’t make me burn my books, and you can’t hurt me anymore.”
“What kind of demon are you?”
It occurs to you that you could tell him you’re not a demon. You’re just you, with a little added protection. But the realization that they are afraid of you wakes up something ugly inside of you. Something oily, that slithers, something wicked and sharp.
You don’t have to tell them you’re not a demon. You don’t have to tell them that you are. They have come to that conclusion themselves, and it has put them beneath you. Afraid of you. You’re more powerful than you’ve ever been in this home.
So you let them think you are. “The kind that survived Nathaniel Laudermill beating me in the woods and trying to drown me.”
Your father straightens. “That wasn’t supposed to happen! You weren’t supposed to run and he- he wasn’t supposed to hurt you.”
“Well, he did. And he paid for it, didn’t he?”
When you say it, you have a sneaking suspicion that Nathaniel Laudermill is dead. When your father nods feebly at your question, the knowledge slides into place. You don’t feel bad. It almost horrifies you that you don’t, but you think of the burning in your lungs, his nails against your skin, the roaring of the water.
You’re glad Nathaniel is dead.
“What do you want from us? Money? Our lives?”
“Nothing.” You realize it’s true, suddenly stricken with wondering why you came back at all. “I want you to go about your lives, and let me do what I will.”
Pushing off the wall, you turn around and head out the front door. You feel their eyes on you as you go, but you don’t look back.
For now, you walk out into the woods. Crickets chirp happily, growing quiet as you walk by and starting once again when you’re a distance from them. Under the shade of the trees, it’s cold. The river isn’t flooded up into the woods anymore, but the ground is soft beneath your feet, mud giving way to your steps.
It feels different when you walk through the woods this time. They aren’t as vibrant. No Tiera is lurking in the boughs of the wisteria. There’s no lake with merfolk peering at you with large, alien eyes. A world that was once so full of life and peace feels unsaturated now. Devoid of color.
A nasty feeling creeps up on you as you walk. You look for the creatures of the wood, hoping to see their bright colors and little lives. A snake slithers away from you, but it’s just that. A snake with normal scales, in a normal bush. A rabbit rushes by, quick as lightning, a blur of fur.
None of the birds have plumes of purple feathers. There’s no trilling song that sounds like dreams spun into notes, no smell of drifting sweetness on the wind. The air is damp and cold, and it smells like fresh earth and water. But there’s nothing about it that seems as vibrant as before.
By the river, the water rushes as fast as your thoughts. You weren’t sure what to expect when you came home, but it wasn’t this. It wasn’t your parents thinking you were a demon, but that isn’t the worst part.
The worst part is that only after two weeks, your world has lost its magic. It pales in comparison to Yoongi’s world or even your imagination. You stare at the water you used to think rushed with so much promise, the waxy leaves that used to contain so many shades of green. Now they’re just leaves and the river is just water.
A tingle presses at your neck. You turn, expecting Yoongi to be looming behind you. There’s no one there, but the feeling of awareness doesn’t go away. Frowning, you lean against the tree and stare out into the woods unseeing.
Clove and cinnamon hang in the air. You close your eyes, inhaling. The tingle at the back of your neck feels familiar. In your mind, you feel it like a phantom touch, sliding from your neck across your shoulder, dragging down the length of your arms until there is a soft twitch in your palm.
It’s easy to imagine Yoongi this way. But when you open your eyes, Yoongi isn’t there. The feeling doesn’t go away. But you always have that feeling out here, the something of other. Your heart flutters at the thought of the god lurking somewhere that you can’t see.
A silly thought. You brush it away, trying not to delude yourself into fantasies that Yoongi has any interest in you beyond your deal and beyond that night in the woods where you asked for help. Yoongi’s kindness is just that, and though you dream of him often, you know the difference between your dreams and reality.
Instead of leaving to go back to the house, you sit down on the ground. Closing your eyes, you imagine a brighter world. A more magical world. It’s easier to do this than to contend with the fact that the woods you loved so dearly are not as you remember them.
This, at least, is familiar. Sitting in the woods for hours and imagining worlds away from yours. Now, you imagine a specific world, made up of twilight and mountains in the distance. With a wonderful castle full of rooms saturated with candlelight and books you’re learning how to read.
When your stomach growls, you’re forced to stop your imagination and get up. You feel a bit better, knowing that you can at least remember what Yoongi’s dream realm looks like. Two weeks. You have two weeks until you can go back, and until then, Yoongi expects you to study.
Back at the house, your parents stare in silence when you enter. You hardly look at them, walking to the kitchen as though they are merely ghosts harboring the same space as you. Your movements are methodical as you make yourself lunch. When you reach for the knife to cut cheese, you feel the pointed look of your parents.
Part of you wants to turn around and scream at them to scare them. Another part of you has divorced the idea of them as your parents already. Yet you do nothing, biting a piece of cheese as you finish plating your meal and go to your room. They say nothing.
Sitting on your bed, you eat your meal. The world is quiet for the most part, though the muted sound of nature hums beyond your closed window. You realize there is a desk in your room stacked with books, parchment, and inkwells.
Heart racing, you get up from your bed and cross the room. You wipe your fingers on your shirt as you pick up a note written in Yoongi’s neat scrawl. You chew your lip as you look at the swirls and dips of letters on paper, immediately intimidated at the prospect of making sense of the writing.
You take the note with you to the bed and begin to parse the letters and sentences apart. It takes all of your concentration, going over the sounds each letter makes in your head to build a word. It’s not fast work and it isn’t easy, but after a while, you work out the first sentence.
Do not forget to practice every day.
A smile makes your mouth twitch, both in pride that you managed to work out the sentence and at the thought of Yoongi hunched over his desk writing you a note.
The second sentence is trickier. Afternoon light pours through your window as you spend another fifteen minutes sounding out the letters, quietly muttering them to yourself until you’ve got full words to build the sentence.
I will be watching, so you better practice as often as you can.
You bite your lip. It sounds like a playful threat, quietly muttered in one of Yoongi’s teasing moments. You can almost hear the soft rasp of his voice and picture the smirk that would accompany his words. You shiver before reading the final sentence.
Sleep well, and dream as often as you can.
The desk is a nice touch. You don’t remember seeing it this morning and you wonder how it got there. Remembering Yoongi’s magic is overwhelming. You’re still unsure what the limits of his power are, if there are any at all.
Hunched over the papers, you begin to trace letters again. It feels good to have the quill in your hand. You’re careful not to spill the ink all over the paper like you do when you’re practicing in the library - you have a limited amount of parchment here, compared to Yoongi’s endless amounts in the House of Dreams.
It does beg the question whether he’ll drop you off more magical paper if you run out, though.
By the time your hand is cramping too much to practice more and your head hurts, it’s evening. Your parents are locked away in their room when you come out. You can hear the soft voice of your mother go silent when they hear you enter the kitchen for food before heading out to the porch.
Twilight skies stretch above you. Sitting on the edge of the porch, you watch the world fade from purple to black. The stars begin to dot the sky, the moon making her climb upward. You grin, feeling relieved that maybe not all of your world has lost its magic.
Perhaps it’s just the light of day you’re no longer interested in. The night is far more mysterious and alluring, calling to you as you finish your last bite of dinner. You set your plate down on the porch and hop down, feeling the soft grass beneath your bare feet.
The last time you entered the woods in the dark, you were almost killed. That memory alone makes you pause at the edge of the woods. Your mouth dries a little bit and though the urge to step into the shadow of the night is strong, the memory of Nathaniel’s hands on your hair is stronger.
You turn around quickly and walk back to the house, picking up the plate along the way. It feels shameful to be afraid of the dark woods, a sour taste in your mouth as you lock yourself in your room and crawl onto the bed.
Closing your eyes, you try not to think about Nathaniel. His yelling haunts you, the phantom grip of his fingers pulling your hair, the way your mouth filled with water- a hooting owl disturbs your spiraling thoughts.
You open your eyes, straining your ears, only to find silence. Just as you begin to close your eyes again, you hear the hoot once more. Turning toward the window next to your bed, you sit up and pop the latch, casting open one of the shutters.
Above the house, the moon is a glowing coin in the sky. Everything her light touches is awash in grey. Sticking your head out of the window, you sweep your gaze back and forth, trying to look for the sound of the hooting.
As though it senses your gaze, the owl hoots again. You see it this time. A great horned owl stares at you from its perch on top of a pile of chopped wood. Its eyes are burnished gold, like two burning beacons in the night. It’s a stunning owl, all browns and whites, feathers luminous under the sheen of the moon. It moves its head in a circle, opening and closing its beak.
Then, the owl surprises you. You flinch and sit backward on your haunches as it takes flight, great wings flapping as it flies to your window and lands on the ledge. You gasp in delight. The creature is far bigger up close, its ochre eyes warm and intelligent.
The back of your neck tingles familiarly and you smile.
“Are you supposed to watch over me?” The owl chirps, a much higher-pitched noise than the hoot. “Hmm. I see. Do you have a name?”
The owl bobs its head from side to side in an uncanny movement. Though you’re not sure, you think it means to tell you no. “Well, what if I give you one?” The owl chirps again. “What about… Moony?”
Fluffing its feathers, the owl shifts back and forth and lets out a hiss. You giggle, covering your mouth as the bird settles, looking at you in a way that certainly feels haughty and bothered. “Alright. What about… Dream?” Another hiss and a bob no. “Okay, well you’re making this quite difficult. What about…”
A dozen names run through your mind. You think of the owl as Yoongi’s way to watch over you at night. It makes you feel warm and far less alone than you were before. It’s nice knowing that you have a protector, someone to warn Yoongi if you’re ever in danger. Or to steer you away from your bad thoughts.
“How about Guardian?” you offer. It blinks two large eyes before chirping and bobbing its head in a circle, pleased at the name. You grin and slowly reach your hand forward. “I like it. Guardian, then.”
Gently, the owl leans forward and lets you brush its feathers. They are silky under your touch, each plume delicate and wonderful. You can’t help but smile, stroking the owl's chest until it shuffles back and forth and gives a short hoot.
“Go on,” you urge. “Do whatever you need to do. I’ll leave the window open?”
Guardian hoots in affirmation before shuffling its wings and flying off into the night.
Laying in your back, you stare up through the open window, watching the stars go past. Slowly, you feel sleep pull at your edges, beckoning you to give in. You finally do, drifting asleep under the silver light of the moon and a blanket of stars.
-
Yoongi sits in front of the fireplace in the library. You blink a few times, a little dazed. You don’t remember how you got here, but you know the smell of this library and you know that shadowy frame better than anything. It suddenly makes you ache to realize how much you miss it already.
As if sensing your presence, Yoongi turns to look at you. He smirks, showing no sign of surprise at seeing you standing behind him. He gestures to the armchair next to him and you grin, quick to join him.
Warmth leaps from the fireplace, the logs popping and crackling under the hungry, orange flames. Yoongi is dressed in a simple linen shirt and pants, his necklaces reflecting the burning light. He watches you sit down and fold your feet onto the chair.
“Am I here? Or am I dreaming?” you ask.
“Are both not possible?”
You think about it. “Well yes, I suppose they are. I’m dreaming but I can come here because I’m dreaming.”
“Clever girl.” Yoongi’s eyes dance as he looks you up and down. “How was your first day back?”
“Strange. I…” You chew on your lip, wrapping your arms around your legs. Suddenly, you feel more at home than you did earlier that day in the place you were raised. You think about the woods out behind your house, the alien way you felt among trees that should be familiar. “It feels as though the world doesn’t hold as much magic anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like here. It is so vibrant and beyond imagining that now that I’ve gone back… nothing compares.”
Yoongi hums. “I promise you that there is so much magic in your world. There is real magic in living that cannot be found among the imaginary.”
You rest your chin on your knees and sigh heavily. “If only I could find it.”
“You will.”
Silence passes between you. It’s comfortable. You watch the dancing fire, the world fading away. Though you are acutely aware that Yoongi is staring at your side profile, you don’t squirm or feel anxiety. You simply feel peace, happy to be here. Happy to be with him.
That makes your stomach flutter. At least you’re not dreaming of him in ways you shouldn’t tonight. As soon as you think about it, you feel your cheeks heat up hotter than the flames from the fireplace.
After a little while Yoongi sighs, drawing your attention back to him. “You should sleep.”
“I thought I was.”
“Sort of. You’re more… dreamwalking right now. You’re not really resting.”
“Do I have to stay here?” The question is small. You don’t meet his eyes when you ask, suddenly filled with shame that you can’t even last a day in the world you’ve known for over twenty years. “There’s nothing for me here.”
“There is. You just have to find it again.”
“I don’t know how.”
Yoongi stands up. You look up at him and see that his expression is soft. Kind. Your heart speeds up, tongue heavy in your mouth as he slowly reaches out to you. His hand hesitates for a second, pauses in mid-air like he’s unsure, and then he touches your cheek lightly. “Trust me.”
Before you can respond, Yoongi is walking away. The skin on your cheek tingles where his fingers were a moment before, a shiver racing up your spine. You lift your hands to touch your cheek where his fingers were moments ago. You can’t help but smile, fondness for him growing. Blooming.
Leaning back in the chair, you close your eyes and settle into real sleep.
-
Tap tap tap.
You twitch your nose and roll your head to the side, sniffing. For a moment, it felt like something had been tapping your nose, almost waking you from sleep. You start to sink back into it, pulling your covers tighter as your thoughts drift… further…
Tap tap tap.
You frown. Now you’re awake, your thoughts clawing their way to break the surface of sleep. When you finally collect yourself and register that you’re waking up, you open your eyes to reveal a face hovering inches from yours, so close that you cannot make out the features.
A shriek rips through your room as you scramble away from the face, clutching your blanket. You slam into the wall near the window, heart hammering as you press yourself flat, trying to make yourself small.
Taehyung falls backwards on his ass, covering his ears and giving you a ghastly expression, as though horrified to be screamed at in such a manner. Your hand clutches your chest as you realize it’s him sitting on your floor and him who had been inches from your face - tapping your nose.
“What are you doing?” you holler at him, fisting your blankets. You suddenly feel sick, the adrenaline making your stomach turn and your head spin. Groaning, you lay on your side, squeezing your eyes shut. Colors coalesce behind your eyelids as you take deep breaths, hoping it will pass. “Are you insane?”
“Well, that is up for debate.”
You open your eyes and glare at him.
Taehyung sits with his long legs out in front of him, leaning back on his palms. His dark hair hangs in his eyes as he grins at you, giddy. He’s dressed in a flowing white shirt with laces at the front that he’s kept open, revealing a tanned chest. His shirt is tucked into brown trousers and you spot a small chain with a charm tied through one of his belt loops.
You think you recognize the charm from one of Yoongi’s necklaces.
“What are you doing here?”
“Visiting, obviously.”
“You can just… visit?”
“I do what I want.”
As the adrenaline rush fades, you slowly sit up, glaring at the man on your floor. “I doubt that. How did you get in here, anyway?”
“Your window is open.”
The window in question is still wide open from last night, only now, morning light streams through. The air is cool and smells of rain, the wind rushing through the trees and making them bend and dance under its guidance. A robin flits from bough to bough, singing.
“So you came through the window?”
“No, I came through the front door. No one else is home.”
“Then why did you say you came through the window?”
“I didn’t. I said the window was open.” Taehyung gives you a white, square grin. You clench your teeth and resist the urge to throw a pillow at him. Though you’re pleased to see him, you’re equally as vexed by his teasing. “Anyway, I want you to show me around.”
“Show you around what?”
He gets up from the floor, clapping his hands together to get rid of the dirt and dust before doing the same to his pants. He shrugs, giving you a cheery smile. “I don’t know. Anything. Everything. I want to see what your life here was like.”
“It wasn’t very good.”
“That’s okay. I want to see it anyway.”
Slowly, you get out of bed. He makes room for you, walking over toward the desk where your writing practice sheets are. He flips through them, examining your work as you eye him, stretching. Your joints pop and you groan, eyes fluttering at the release of tension.
“Why?” you ask. He looks up at you, brows raised in a question. “Why do you want to see?”
Taehyung contemplates his answer. He taps one long finger on top of your tracing. “You’re getting better.” He leans against the desk and crosses his arms, regarding you steadily. “I’ll make you a deal. Show me about your life here. Teach me about you. And I’ll tell you about me.”
That sparks your interest. You know so little about Taehyung, even in the two weeks that you’ve lived in the House of Dreams. He is a charming mystery, someone who speaks in riddles and likes to goad you and talk about so much that you realize he talks about nothing at all. At least, not anything substantial.
For the amount of things you know about Taehyung, like how he enjoys cinnamon in his tea or that his favorite color is green like the bottom of the lake, or how his favorite snacks are honey cakes or that music makes him cry, you also know… nothing about him. Where he comes from. Who he was before he was Yoongi’s companion in a big, lonely castle.
Sighing, you walk up to him and extend your arm. “Deal.”
Taehyung’s hand is warm and tingles when you shake it. He grins at you, happier than ever before he drops your hand and gestures at your clothes. “Well go on,” he says. “Change out of your nighties. Unless of course, you’d like to stay in them.”
“Get out of my room and I will!”
He raises his brows. “Don’t want me to watch? How boring.”
You don’t take his teasing to heart. You’ve already adapted to Taehyung’s jesting and prodding, learning that it’s a key part to the way that he shows his affections. For the first few days, you’d thought perhaps he didn’t like you much, but after seeing him rib Yoongi for two hours straight in the library, you realized it was good that he was teasing you.
You open the small trunk of clothes and slide on pants and a loose shirt. When you enter the main house, you find Taehyung standing on the porch with his arms crossed over his chest, looking into the woods with a frown. Tucking in your shirt, you step out onto the porch, the wood creaking underneath your weight.
“What is it?” you ask when Taehyung doesn’t turn to greet you. His eyes are dark and there’s an expression on his face that makes you nervous. “Is there something out there?”
Instead of answering directly, he asks, “Is that where Yoongi found you?”
Oh. Oh. Taehyung is looking at the woods where you ran off the night that your parents tried to make you marry Nathaniel. You nod and hum, trying not to think much about it as you finish tucking in the shirt and adjusting the material.
“There’s a bad energy there,” Taehyung observes. He turns away from the woods finally and drops his hands at his side. “You should stay away from that place moving forward.”
“I didn’t exactly go in there on purpose.”
“I know.” Something flashes in his eyes. “Best not to do it again, if you can help it. You can go into the woods, just not there.”
“Okay…”
You wait for Taehyung to elaborate, but he doesn’t. A chill settles over your skin, the wind picking up to rustle the trees. He shrugs and grins, the dark expression gone in a flash as he gestures for you to enter back through the house and leave by way of the front door.
Taheyung follows you, a bounce to his step as he hurries to walk next to you. You say nothing as you lead him out of the yard and toward the main road by your home that leads into town, your stomach fluttering with nervousness as you go.
If Taehyung is confused as to why you’re not starting the story of your life at home, he doesn’t let on. He tucks his hands into his pockets and walks next to you, his feet crunching the gravel beneath his boots and the wind lifting his hair.
Studying Taehyung’s side profile, you think he looks like something from a dream. He has the kind of beauty that seems purposeful and handcrafted, each one of his features carefully designed to be the wonderful, glowing being that he is.
You don’t know what he is, really. But you’ve made a deal and you have to deliver on your end first.
“We live a bit away from town,” you say eventually. “My father inherited the house after his father, who was a very talented wood carver. He used to cut the trees here himself and decide which tree was perfect for what project, which is why we live almost thirty minutes from town.”
“A wood carver is a nice talent to have.”
You nod. “He was very good. It made a good income. My father had no talent for it, though, and opened up a store instead. He sold my grandfather’s wares and then eventually added items from other folks in town, including my mother's clothes. She’s a seamstress.”
“You were wearing a dress the night Yoongi brought you home.”
Home. Taehyung says it so easily, like he’s already accepted that the House of Dreams is yours as much as it’s his. A warm feeling blooms through you, and you look up at Taehyung and smile at him despite the looming subject of the doomed wedding dress. He returns your smile just as broadly, even if he doesn’t know the reason for your sudden turn of happiness.
“Yeah. That was one she made,” you sigh, turning back to the road. “A wedding dress.”
“It was beautiful, but I did burn it in the fire.” You look at him with your brows raised and he gives you a sheepish shrug. “You were assaulted in that dress. We wanted nothing to do with it.”
“I’m glad that you did. I never want to remember that night again.”
“Good. Memories have a way of haunting us, even when we don’t know it.”
Taehyung’s tone is ominous. Instead of asking him what he means, you let his weighted silence fall around you, propelling the both of you toward the town.
As you get closer, houses and other roads begin to pop up. You see the pathways leading up to the homes of your neighbors, pointing out each one to Taehyung along with filling him in on summaries of their family histories and gossip. He listens with a conspiratorial smirk, gasping and asking you scandalous questions as you whisper rumors you’ve long heard from eavesdropping on your parents.
Gossiping with Taehyung is nice. You feel lighter than you had the day before, nearly skipping as you near the town proper. You start passing people on the road. Normally, you’d greet the ones you know. Now, you hear gasps as people flinch when they see you, making signs with their hands to ward off evil.
You blink in surprise, glancing at Taehyung for his reaction. He frowns when he sees the second group of people do it. By the third, he pulls a snarling face at them, making a child cry. You jam your finger in his ribs and he hisses in pain, shoving lightly back.
“What?” he demands. “You’re not evil. That sign doesn’t do anything, either. If one of the more malevolent deities wanted to snatch them, they would.”
“Really?”
Taehyung rubs his ribs where you poked him. You pass the bakery owned by the Yen family, heavenly smells wafting out the door. “Of course they would,” he huffs. “Most deities aren’t bound by the rules and logic the mortals try to make to create a sense of safety from them. Many can simply do what they want.”
“Then why don’t they?”
“Because of Eternals, like Yoongi. The gods who are always here, never changing. That’s why they’re called Eternals.”
“I see. There’s seven of them, right?” Taehyung hums the affirmative. As you pass a music shop, Taehyung slows. His hands are linked behind his back as he eyes the instruments through the window and gestures at them. You nod and follow him indoors, the bell on the door above chiming. “So other deities are afraid of them?”
“Of course they are,” Taehyung muses. He stops to admire a mandolin. “Yoongi, for example, is a being that creates dreams themselves. He manipulates reality. He can create things on a whim. He’s almost as powerful as life.”
“Really?”
“What are dreams if not creation? The difference isn’t all that big, though it drives Seokjin mad to admit it.”
“Who?”
Taehyung plucks the string of another instrument. You don’t know what it is, but the note is sharp, making you cringe. “Life, of course.”
“You know Life? What are you?”
He glances at you sidelong. “We’re supposed to learn about you first. I’m doing a lot of talking.”
“Not like it’s hard to get you going,” you mutter.
Taeyung shoots you a scowl, but is interrupted by the shop owner coming around the corner. He’s a man in his late thirties, greeting Taehyung politely and wiping his hands on his trousers. He asks Taehyung if he’s looking for anything and just as Taehyung leans out of the way to reveal you standing behind him, the shop owner’s eyes go to you and he gasps, stumbling backward.
“You’re supposed to be dead,” he whispers, his back bumping into a shelf of items. You feel a shiver slip down your spine as you stare at him, arms tingling. He makes the symbol to ward off evil, the whites of his eyes wild. “Evil. Evil creature, you are a demon. You do not-”
“Another word,” Taehyung cuts in, his voice dark in a tone you’ve never heard. “And I’ll show you what evil is, sir.”
“G-god of Light spare me.”
“Your God of Light won’t answer.” Taehyung spins on his heel, facing you. His expression is thunder, his gaze dark and eyes wild as he hisses, “Speak their name all you wish. It's not daytime in here, sir.”
For the two weeks you’ve known Taehyung, you’ve never seen him like this. The room feels oppressive and dark, and you swear the lights have dimmed, shadows pressing up against the wall as Taehyung strides forward and passes you, taking your arm firmly in his hand.
Taehyung escorts you out of the store, walking swiftly. When you hit daylight, the oppressive dark sheds itself immediately. Taehyung’s presence dims with the sun beating down on him and turning his skin copper, black hair shining almost blue in the light.
He lets go of your arm and shoots you a troubled gaze. “Don’t listen to him,” he grunts. “You’re not a demon, nor are you evil.”
“My parents called me the same thing.” He scowls and begins pacing. To keep him moving, you start walking toward the other side of town where the old cemetery and abandoned church is. You don’t know why you go there, but you’re drawn to it. “They called me a demon.”
“Demons are much nastier. You might be annoying, but certainly not a demon.”
You scowl and he shrugs. “I didn’t realize everyone here thought I died. I thought I would come back and it would be…”
“Normal?” You shrug a shoulder.
The houses on the edge of town are shabbier than the rest. People hesitate in their doorways, staring at you and the tall, handsome man next to you. You see them do the warding sign as you go, and you squeeze your hands into fists as they do.
Weeds crawl up the side of the old church. The structure leans heavily to the left, the stairs unusable and the ceiling fallen in. Instead of walking up the hazardous steps and inside the dilapidated building, you lead Taehyung around it, where the grass grows higher than your knees and the sound of grasshoppers buzzing by you follows.
A dry-rotted fence surrounds what was once a graveyard. You walk toward it, leading Taehyung until he starts slowing down a few paces behind you. You stop and turn over your shoulder to look at him, bringing your hand up to shield your eyes from the sun.
Taehyung looks thoughtful, dark eyes scanning the area. He’s stopped walking entirely, head cocked to the side. “Why’d you bring me here?”
“I don’t know. I just… walked in this direction. I used to come here for the silence, sometimes.”
Taehyung has a strange look on his face. “Is that so?”
“Why do you look like that?”
“How long has this place been here?”
“The church closed before I could remember. Honestly, they said it was haunted by this graveyard, which has been here a lot longer than the church. Even the oldest families in town don’t have their dead buried here. Rumor has it that it was built long before the town was.”
Taehyung starts walking normally again. Side by side, you begin to navigate around the graveyard. “And you come here? Why?”
“It’s quiet. When I was too young to stay at the house alone, my mom would bring me to town while she ran errands. I was allowed to explore, but I liked to come here.”
“Most kids are afraid of places of the dead.”
You shrug. “It was quiet, and it gave me time to imagine things. I liked to make up fantasies about the old gods here or… what I imagined they might be. Of heroes descended from them, maybe.”
“And you felt drawn here?”
You startle when a grasshopper shoots across the grass in front of you. You laugh as it vanishes into the foliage. “Yeah, it just felt… safe.”
“Strange.”
“Am I allowed to ask why or are you going to complain you’re talking too much again?” He snorts and gestures for you to continue. “Why is that strange? Beyond the fact that it’s, you know, a graveyard.”
Sighing, Taehyung squints up at the line of trees nearby. His hand hovers along the tops of the grass as he runs it over each blade, letting the tips tickle his hands. You’re almost waist high in grass, glancing down to make sure you don’t step into any holes.
“This place is old. The people of the church felt haunted because they were. Death owns this land.”
You frown. “Well, the dead are here. The other graveyard doesn’t feel the same.”
“You misunderstand me. Death - the Eternal. His presence is all over. Someone important to him must be buried here.”
“Oh.”
You stop and think about that. Turning to look at the unmarked and lime washed tombstones, you scan for any sign of Death. You have no idea what you’re looking for. Ivy and time have taken over most of the concrete slabs, and none of the names or dates are legible by now. They’re just hewn stone, buried in green and grime.
But you feel something here, a tingling on the back of your neck like the one you felt in the woods by your house. A chill wind blows over the land, sweeping the grass and rattling the trees. You feel the breeze against your neck, cool as fingers trailing down your spine.
Suddenly, you feel a buzz on your skin. It’s not so different from Yoongi’s presence, and it chills you.
You look up at Taehyung with wide, fearful eyes. He smiles and shakes his head. “You don’t need to be afraid of Death. Death is neither good nor bad, he just is. He only takes those who are ready.”
“Have you met - um - Death?”
Taehyung nods. “He is a man of few words, but Namjoon is unwaveringly kind and wise.”
“Strange that I was drawn to coming here.” You head back toward the town. The sun passes its zenith and makes its way into the early afternoon. “Is this whole place filled with Eternals or what?”
“No, it’s actually a rather unremarkable location. Namjoon lingers in many places. Yoongi was simply drawn here.”
“By what?”
Instead of answering the question, Taehyung sticks his hands in his pockets. “Show me more of your town.”
So you do. Taehyung is a good companion. Where Yoongi would quietly observe and make sounds to indicate that he’s listening and admires the things you’re talking about, Taehyung asks questions. You realize he’s a tactile person as well. He touches things as he walks by them, brushing his fingers on fabric, touching jewelry at vendor stands.
Everywhere you go is a similar reaction to the instrument store. People seem happy to see Taehyung at first before they see you, fear making them lean away and ward you off. You realize you don’t know how much time has passed since you vanished from the woods and returned.
When you ask Taehyung, he shrugs and explains that time moves differently and inconsistently. It could have been a day, it could have been a week, it could have been five months. By the looks on the faces of those you pass, you think perhaps it’s been a little longer than you anticipated.
Part of you wonders what lie your parents must have told them about your death. You almost want to ask, but you don’t, anxiety stilling your tongue. You probably wouldn’t be able to get close enough to anyone to ask anyway.
By the time the sun has sunk beyond the horizon and the moon has begun its climb, you and Taehyung stop at the tavern to eat. Your stomach rumbles as you step into the warmth of the room behind Taehyung, and you notice that the place goes quiet.
It’s subtle at first, something you don’t notice as you kick dirt off your shoes, but the hush becomes so intense that you can’t help but look up, gaze sweeping the room as everyone turns to stare at you.
Behind the counter, the barkeep straightens. His name is Sloan - you’ve known him since you were a little girl - and he looks less than happy at your arrival.
“I know I’m pretty,” Taehyung announces loudly, tossing the hair out his eyes. “But you don’t need to stare.”
“You aren’t welcome here,” Sloan says, voice wavering like he’s unsure if he means it. “Begone, demon. We are men and women of life and light!”
You swallow thickly and look around, feeling prickly heat crawl up your neck.
Like at the music shop, something happens to Taehyung, except this time, it’s stronger than before. The candles in the chandelier and on the tables flicker in a phantom wind and darkness pulses in the room. You feel energy rolling off of him and you swear Taehyung gets darker as he steps forward, his presence oppressive and threatening.
There is crying and gasping in the room as he seethes. “We are not demons, and you will not disallow this woman to enter your shops, your homes, or anywhere else she wishes.”
“Taehyung,” you whisper, throat dry.
He doesn’t seem to hear you. You swear there is thunder in the distance. Whatever power belonging to Taehyung is tenfold now that the night sky stretches over the tavern. “Refuse her service, and there will be consequences.”
“Taehyung,” you hiss, snatching his sleeve. You pull his attention to you. His eyes are like two obsidian coins. There is something sharp and lupine about his face, sending your heart hammering. “Stop. This is making it worse.”
“They should not insult you.”
“It’s fine.”
He softens a touch. “It isn’t. You are not… they do not understand you.”
“They never have. Come on, let’s just go.”
For a second, you think he might not. You don’t know what Taehyung is or what he can do. It doesn’t frighten you, though. Because whatever Taehyung is and whatever his intentions are, he’s linked to Yoongi. Yoongi would never put you in harm's way or let Taehyung near you if he was a threat.
Even after such a short period of time, you know this in your heart of hearts.
Taehyung relents and the light returns to the room. No one makes a sound, all eyes on Taehyung as he lets you pull him out of the door and into the night. You immediately feel better outside, the moon washing your skin in light and the stars watching you march into the street.
“You can’t just threaten everyone who insults me,” you snap, though you’re not really mad at him. “They’re only going to hate me more. And they will think you’re a demon when you do that.”
“I’m far more powerful than a demon,” he sniffs primly. “And they should not insult you. You have the favor of Dream. You are -” he cuts himself off and shakes his head. “Well, you’re far above their station. They know nothing.”
“Far above their station,” you snort, crushing a rock under the toe of your boot. “I’m a girl who was strange when they knew me before they thought I was dead, and now they think I’m a demon walking around with her scary demon husband. Or perhaps they think you are an evil entity.”
“Don’t make that joke around Yoongi,” Taehyung mutters, putting his hands on his hips. Before you can ask what that means, he says, “What if I took you somewhere instead, then?”
You raise your brows and look around. “Where?”
“Well not here. Somewhere familiar to me, where they won’t ostracize you.”
“We’re going to travel in the middle of the night.”
Taehyung gives you a square grin that lights up the world. “Time to learn about how we travel.”
-
You almost vomit on Taehyung’s shoes. He squeals and steps out of the way as you bend over, holding your middle as bile burns its way up your throat and splatters onto the gravel beneath you. It feels like your world is spinning and you’ve lost your center of gravity, having been pulled by something sharp in your stomach into a vortex of what felt like twisting and spinning.
It could only have lasted a second, but Taehyung has to hold you up for a moment as you gasp for air, the taste in your mouth sour and gross. You crane your face to look at him, glaring as he winces. He had given you no warning of what his travel was like or how it would feel.
You’re not looking forward to it again.
“What,” you pant, “was that?”
“Teleportation, mostly. I kind of forgot what it feels like when you’re… human. You get a little scrambled.”
The nausea makes your throat clench and unclench again. You dig your fingers into his arm as you dry heave but nothing comes up. “A little?” you rasp. The world slows its spinning and the watering feeling in your mouth that preludes puking fades. “That was awful.”
“Sorry, it’s different than portaling. That’s more stepping through the door while teleportation is like... Jumping.”
“Don’t jump me again any time soon.”
Taehyung pats your back heartily as you stand up straight. The stars swim above you in a spiraling cosmos. You close your eyes and take a few deep breaths, waiting as the nausea fades away and the world around you bleeds into the forefront of your attention span.
Noise hums from in front of you. You’re standing in an alleyway, looking up at the side of a building. It looks a bit like an inn, but you can hear the clamor of a crowd and loud voices coming from inside. Each window is curtained, keeping wandering eyes and the moonlight outside.
Taehyung leads you around to the front of the building. It’s two stories and on the first floor there’s a porch filled with chairs and gambling tables. There are men and women draped over the furniture, smoking sweet-smelling cigars and laughing loudly as they throw dice on the table.
Women and men in various states of undress sit on the laps of the others. You feel heat crawl up your neck as you avert your eyes, looking up at the sign hanging over the building that says Desert Rose. Nervousness tingles at the back of your neck as Taehyung strolls up the steps to what you’re sure is a brothel and a gambling den, greeting people as he goes.
You’re shocked that Taehyung knows people here. You’re sure that you’re still in… your dimension, as Yoongi calls it. The people here talk with an accent that is different from what you’re used to, but you still understand the language, even while struggling to keep up with the lilt.
Eyes follow you as Taehyung leads you inside. The air is thick with perfume, smoke, and loud voices. Tables are pressed closely together, filled with people. There’s a bar at the back of the room and a small bard and band in a corner, singing a raucous song with the crowd about Lady Trown who gets around and will go down.
“Where did you bring me?” you ask Taehyung as he guides you through the rowdy room. A woman falls over a card game laughing, her breasts spilling out of her shirt while another woman plants a kiss right on her mouth. “This place is - is -”
There are no words for it. You’ve never been somewhere that is so openly indecent and carnal in your life and yet… the colors and the sounds and the overflowing joy hit you like an arrow to the chest. You can’t help but be drawn to look at the exposed bodies before darting your gaze away, only to be drawn somewhere else out of insatiable curiosity.
“A haven!” Taehyung offers as he leans on the bar. “Two pints of whatever!”
You press close against him, hands shooting to his shirt as someone pushes by you. It’s a little overwhelming and you feel hot all over. Taehyung shoves a wooden tankard of amber liquid into your hands and grins, raising another to his lips before taking several swigs, liquid running down his chin and neck.
He comes away and smacks his lips, giving you a delighted grin. “It’s awful, just the way I like it!”
You take a sip and make a face. The watered-down ale is certainly nothing like the sweet wine Yoongi likes to treat you to over dinner. Taehyung seems to know this, laughing loudly as he leads you through the crowd toward an empty table in the corner.
Back against the wall, you take a moment to look around the room. There are card and dice games being held at multiple tables, alongside other games with rune-marked stones, cups and trinkets that you don’t recognize.
It’s wildly different from anything back home. You’ve never been to a brothel - at least, you think this place qualifies for one, based on the various states of undress and a few couples doing something that makes you avert your eyes - but this is nice. In its own loud and carnal way.
Taehyung people-watches with you. He feeds you information on the faces that he recognizes, lips curling as he gossips. He looks alive and happy, his golden skin glowing with a radiance that seems a little magical.
“So is it my turn to ask questions?” you ask, sipping the awful beer as you look over at Taehyung. His gaze reluctantly strays away from watching a card game where you’re pretty sure the woman who is winning is cheating. “Or do I still have to talk about myself?”
He smirks. “You can ask questions, a deal is a deal.”
“What is this place?”
“The Desert Rose.”
You glare. “What is this place to you?”
Taehyung takes a sip of his ale and grins, winking at you. “A better question. This place is somewhere I used to visit when I wanted to feel alive. When I wanted to feel humanity for its raw intensity.”
“So you’re not human.” He shakes his head. His face grows a little hesitant, but he doesn’t tell you to stop. “What are you?”
“I’m a dream.”
You blink once. Twice. You expect Taehyung to start laughing and indicate that he was teasing you, but he doesn’t. He leans back in his chair, watching you evenly with his dark eyes.
“What?” you finally ask.
“I’m a dream. The second ever, actually.”
You think about what you’ve observed of Taehyung. The way that he seems to draw people in, the animated manner in which he speaks. He seems to contain so many multitudes of the things you know that Yoongi enjoys, and yet so many things that press Yoongi’s buttons and rattle him.
Taehyung is… beautiful. Enchanting. Both to look at, and to talk to. He has a carefree personality and you know he’s magical, having witnessed it in the House of Dreams in snippets but also today, when he became angry and the darkness seemed to swell around him. Not to mention his awful teleportation to wherever you are in the world now.
He is exactly the kind of person you always imagined being the lead in your fantasies. Brave and charming, handsome and adventurous. He looks like he belongs here, melding to the energy around him, fitting in perfectly.
Suddenly, the thought of Taehyung being a dream makes more sense than anything else. A being of infinite possibilities, one who can shape themselves to anyone and anything, who can sense what people want and become that very thing.
You’re not sure what the complexities of dreams are, but you understand the very basics from Yoongi: most dreams are flexible and full of infinite possibilities. It’s what makes them so real, so strong.
“That makes a lot of sense,” you murmur. “So you’re old.”
“Very.”
“If you’re the second dream…” you trail off, thinking about how Yoongi explained how he came to existence. How life dreamed and so he was born. “Yoongi is the first. That’s why you say he is Dream - he is the first and the essence of dreams.”
“Very clever.”
“When you said you came here to feel alive, what did you mean by that?”
He sighs heavily. “Yoongi was born because Life dreamed of - well, making life. And when Yoongi was born, he was the very concept of dreaming itself. Imagination, creation, wonder, hope. It’s why creation and dreaming are so close in their nature. But still, there is a difference between lifeforms and dreams.”
“You wanted to know what it was like to feel life?”
He nods. “Yoongi made me as his first companion. He couldn’t help it, really. He didn’t make me on purpose so much as he thought of someone to spend time with, someone to offset him. To balance him. And then there I was.”
You chew on your lip. There is a distant look in Taehyung’s gaze. He stares at his ale, not drinking anymore. He picks at splinters in the tankard handle, the noise around the two of you a dull roar.
“But?” you offer, sensing his hesitance.
“But,” he agrees, nodding. “When Life created humans, I wondered what the difference was between us. I sort of looked like them and I talked like them, but I wanted to know what it was like to be them. And dreams… They are wonderful. Beautiful. But I was afraid they weren’t real, so I started to visit here. To go places. To see if life was the same as dreams.”
“Is it?”
He shakes his head. “It’s not better, it’s not worse. It’s just different. But I did learn that dreams are as real as life. Perhaps you cannot always see them and feel them depending on where you are, but anything someone dreams here is real there.”
“That’s sort of comforting.”
Taehyung smiles. “It is. Plus, I really enjoy people. They have an edge to them that dreams don’t.”
Someone catches Taehyung’s attention. He turns in his seat, head craning as though he senses something. You follow his line of sight to where a young man descends the stairs leading up to the second floor. He is unlike anything you’ve ever seen, with dark, silky hair tucked behind his ears, full lips that pull into a smile as someone greets him, and sharp, dark eyes that crinkle when he laughs.
He’s beautiful. Suddenly you think that this might be what a dream truly looks like. Taehyung is all dark and shadows, but the man Taehyung watches is lightness and magic, his face so perfect that you cannot help but imagine it must be the result of someone carefully painting every feature.
Your eyes flicker back to Taehyung when the man leans on the bar, talking to the barmaid behind the counter. Taehyung doesn’t move. You don’t even think he’s breathing. He sits in his chair, knuckles paling under the grip he has on the back of his seat, his eyes filled with such sudden longing that you have to look away.
“Who is that?” you ask gently. Taehyung doesn’t seem to hear you. He watches and watches, wanting to look nowhere else but at the bar. “Taehyung?”
“His name is Jimin.”
“That’s a pretty name.”
Taehyung nods. “He’s like you.”
“Like me?”
“He dreams loud enough for us to hear it. For me to hear it. I’ve been coming to this place long before he existed. A silly coincidence that he exists here, too.”
“Fate, perhaps?”
That makes Taehyung turn around. His expression is dark and he’s frowning. “Don’t start talking about Hoseok,” Taehyung mutters. “Lest he show up.”
You didn’t mean Yoongi’s sibling Fate, but you realize that’s who Taehyung is talking about. Your eyes drift back to where Jimin is at the bar, sipping a glass of amber liquid. As though he senses eyes on him, his gaze sweeps the bar until it lands on Taehyung, who straightens immediately.
Jimin smiles and it’s like watching the first ray of sun break over the horizon. You can’t help but blink at his radiant beauty, completely taken aback by it as Jimin pushes off of the bar and begins heading your direction.
Taehyung swivels in his chair, taking in a few calming breaths. You giggle and he looks up at you, giving you a pitiful smile. You reach across the table and squeeze his hand quickly. “Don’t be nervous.”
“I’m not nervous!”
“You definitely are.”
Before Taehyung can hiss a rebuttal at you, Jimin sidesteps a woman and grins at Taehyung. He drags his gaze to you and startles, as though he had not realized you were there, eyes going round and mouth forming an ‘o’.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were with anyone,” Jimin says. His voice is soft and smooth, immediately comforting. “I wanted to come say hello.”
“Hi,” Taehyung breathes, blinking up at Jimin as though he is lost in starlight. Perhaps he is, you think. “Your hair is longer than the last time I saw you.”
Jimin flushes, a hand coming up to touch the ends of his hair gently. “Yeah, I thought I would grow it out.”
“It looks great.”
For a moment, they stare at one another, Taehyung grinning with his eyes gleaming, and Jimin soft with his eyes scrunched. You look at the table, trying not to disrupt whatever spell they’re under as they peer at one another, but it seems Jimin senses your presence still. His eyes flicker to you and he raises a brow, questioning.
Taehyung fumbles to introduce you, turning and giving you a sheepish grin. You smile and stretch your hand over to shake Jimin’s. His hands are small and delicate but his grip is firm. “It’s nice to meet you. Taehyung wanted to show me this place because he enjoys the people so much - I believe that includes you.”
Jimin smirks and shrugs a shoulder while Taehyung looks for a chair, yanking it away from someone to give Jimin a place to sit. He does, throwing Taehyung a grateful smile. “Hmm, is that so? Has he said nice things about me?”
“The nicest. In fact, the whole reason we came here is because he wanted to introduce me to the amazing Jimin.”
Taehyung shoots you a look that tells you to shut up, but you hide your grin in your tankard as Jimin raises a brow, glancing at Taehyung.
Watching Taehyung and Jimin is comedic and sweet. Taehyung isn’t an entirely different person around Jimin, but he becomes softer at the edges, his smiles gentler and his laughs louder. The longing in Taehyung’s gaze when he thinks Jimin isn’t looking is palpable, and even as a bystander and a friend, you feel a pang watching the two of them dance around one another.
For his part, Jimin seems equally enthralled. He watches Taehyung with rapt attention, asking questions and touching Taehyung gently everywhere he can - the tops of Taehyung’s hands, his arm, his elbow. When Taehyung turns around to watch the table next to you topple over, you realize he’s unaware that Jimin is looking at him as though begging for Taehyung to see.
You see. And you want.
Never before had your parents inspired much desire for love in you. While they worked well together, you still can’t call what they had happy or loving. Functional, sure. Successful, even. But they did not look at one another the way Taehyung and Jimin seem to, and you can’t help but suddenly feel like that is something you want.
Someone to look at you when they think you’re not looking in a way that implies you are their sun and moon. Someone who smiles with such mirth at something you do or say that you can feel the heat of it.
Jimin gets up to refill the drinks, scooping yours with a grin before vanishing in the crowd. Taehyung watches him go, craning his neck to ensure he has eyes on Jimin as he makes his way to the bar.
“Have you told him you’re in love with him?”
Taehyung shakes his head, eyes never leaving where Jimin is leaning over the bar to order. “There’s no point.”
“What? Why not?”
“I’m a dream. He’s a human. We could never be something.”
“Oh. Surely there’s a way?”
Taehyung turns to look at you, the joy on his face slipping to be replaced with a soft sadness. He shakes his head again, picking at the splinters on the table. “I would be no good for him. We live in two different worlds… I come and go… He deserves a normal, human life. We could never be something.”
Jimin starts to head back toward the table. Taehyung shakes off the melancholy and smiles just as bright when Jimin returns, as though he wasn’t sad only a moment ago. You accept the refilled drink from Jimin with a weak smile.
Taehyung’s words cycle through your mind as the two men fall into giggling conversation, and all you can think about is a pair of dark cat eyes, a soft raspy voice, and a man who is made of dreams.
We could never be something.
-
“I was starting to worry, you know?”
Yoongi’s voice makes you blink. You realize you’re standing among the wisteria, the breeze carrying their sweet scent over your warm skin. You turn to look at him over your shoulder. He’s leaning against a tree, his long hair down and dancing in the breeze. The thin white shirt he wears does little to hide the lines of his stomach and chest today, making you avert your eyes.
“Why?” you ask, voice steadier than you feel.
You walk toward a low-hanging vine, bringing your hands up to brush along the purple petals. You feel the tree shiver under your touch. You sense it, like it purrs, a response that is hard to explain but you innately know.
“It took you longer than usual to fall asleep.”
“Can you not see me when I’m not asleep?”
“I could, but prying is rude. I only see you when you come to me.”
You turn to look at him sharply. He seems a little smug at that, the corners of his full lips twitching like he’s fighting a smirk. Your heart skips a beat for a moment before Taehyung’s words from that night play in your mind. We could never be something.
And yet Yoongi is implying it’s you who visits him.
You scowl and turn away from him suddenly. Yoongi makes a sound like a sigh and pushes off of the tree, his footsteps quiet as a whisper. “Have I upset you?”
“I want to go to sleep.”
He hesitates. You cannot see his expression, but you can picture it perfectly: brows drawn together, mouth pouted slightly, head cocked. His confusion is evident when he says, “You are asleep.”
“You know what I mean.”
Silence, for a moment. Then, in that soft, rasping voice that you know so well, he murmurs, “Goodnight, then.”
-
Silence greets you when you wake up the next morning. Your home is still empty - you have not seen either of your parents since you arrived the night before. Either you’re coming and going at hours they’re not around or they’re avoiding you. The latter is most likely, and you certainly don’t mind.
Your day goes similarly to the day before. This time, when you walk through the woods, you feel a little more of a spark. You’re sure it has to do with your conversation with Taehyung, his words about dreams and reality being different but equally powerful pouring a little bit of magic back into the woods you loved so dearly.
Still, you miss the other realm and the House of Dreams, even if you’re a little embarrassed by your dream last night, recalling the way you dismissed Yoongi.
Sitting on the ground with your back pressed against a cypress tree, you let out a heavy sigh and close your eyes, your arms hugging around your middle. You try not to think too hard about the way Yoongi looked leaning against the tree, dark eyes drinking you in.
Yoongi occupies more than his fair share of thoughts. You hate it, the way your mind strays to him, thinking this is something Yoongi would like or Yoongi would find this funny. Only two weeks and he and Taehyung are suddenly all you know, your experiences with them painting most of your thoughts.
Thoughts of Taehyung don’t plague you, though.
The fluttering feeling every time you think of Yoongi has not faded with time or distance. It might be easier if he didn’t visit your dreams every night - or if you didn’t visit him in your dreams, which you don’t know how to do.
But Taehyung’s forlorn words come drifting back to you, reminding you that there is some distinction between humans and dreams. That even for Taehyung, it cannot work.
When you return home, your parents still aren’t there. You busy yourself with lunch and then begin practicing your letters, tracing them until your hand is cramping and your head is starting to hurt. You manage to take up most of the afternoon that way, focused solely on your studies and trying to read through your work.
Just as evening falls, Taehyung appears in the yard, hands on his hips as he looks up at your window, whistling to catch your attention. You grin when you see him, happy to have a friend, even if it’s just Taehyung. You don’t ask why Yoongi doesn’t come with him - the Eternal is busy, you’re sure - but you’re pleased to just have Taehyung.
It becomes a routine. It’s not as thrilling as your life in the House of Dreams, but it isn’t as terrible as you thought it would be. The few times that you do see your parents, they glare at you as though you have become something evil in their house, lurking and stealing their joy.
You say nothing to them and they stay away from you.
It’s the same in town. You only visit with Taehyung, otherwise you are too afraid to go on your own. The villagers say nothing when they see the two of you walking around and visiting the old church, but they glare and you catch them doing the signs to ward off evil as you pass by.
Still, Taehyung makes it worth it. He visits you nightly, whisking you away to the Desert Rose, which has become a refuge for you. You’re no better at teleporting, but you manage not to vomit on his shoes each time you do it.
Tonight, the energy is thrumming at the Desert Rose. Your gaze lingers longer on those around you and you even introduce yourself to the people that Taehyung is familiar with. Though Taehyung opts to play a game of dice, you do not. You’re content to watch, standing over his shoulder with your arms crossed over your chest.
You feel… alive. Just like Taehyung described when he started coming here. It’s so different from your life before, and after over a week of being around people who seem to spill over with joy without restraint, you feel yourself loosening up. Becoming something a little different. Someone who wants. Someone who wants openly.
You think about Yoongi. Once he’d told you that he wasn’t just Eternal of dreams. He also has power over desire, and he believes in indulgence. He wants to teach you to indulge more. It suddenly makes all the more sense that Taehyung likes it here. He’s someone who dives in head first to things, taking any bet someone throws his way and snatching drinks off of passing trays.
Even his desire for Jimin is open and obvious, though you’re sure Taehyung doesn’t know that.
It’s a lovely night. You feel warm all over, the drink getting to you as you guzzle down the remainder of your cider, which you favor far more than the ale. Jimin clambors onto the table, a cup in hand as he starts yelling the words to the song the band is playing in the corner.
Taehyung begins to slam his wooden cup on the table in time with the beat, yelling the words and standing up as the room joins in, stamping their feet and slamming on tables. You don’t know the words but you laugh loudly, slamming your palms against the top of the table. They sting with the force of your slap, but it feels good.
You feel good. Happy. Drunk. A little dizzy as the table wobbles and you dive out of the way as Jimin comes tumbling down. It doesn’t stop you from taking a shower of beer from Jimin’s cup, dousing you in warm liquid as you shriek and laugh.
Taehyung catches Jimin, of course. They’re a tangled mess of limbs and wet with beer all the same, pointing at you and laughing as you blink through the drink dripping down your face. You flick beer at them with the liquid on your hands, making them howl.
“Gross! Jimin!”
“I’m so sorry,” he gasps through the laughter, his arms slung tight around Taehyung’s neck as Jimin leans into him. “I slipped!”
“You owe me a new shirt!”
Jimin nods, grinning so broadly his eyes are crescents as he stands properly and beckons you. “Come on, both of you. I’ll get you new shirts that aren’t soaked.
Upstairs is a series of private rooms. The hall is lit with flickering sconces and the plush carpet mutes your footsteps. Jimin leads you and Taehyung, giggling, to a door. He thrusts it open and the three of you tip inside, stopping short at the scene in front of you.
Your hands fly to your mouth to mute your gasp, but Taehyung and Jimin collapse into another fit of laughter. If the two people in the bed are bothered by the interruption, they don’t show it. They are a tableau of pleasure, a woman laying back on the bed, arching upward as she lets out a moan. Her skin is slick with sweat, nipples hard as she teases them with one hand, another hand slipping between her legs to cradle the head of someone there.
The shock roots you to the spot. You can’t look away, completely hypnotized by the way the person between the woman’s legs moans, pressing their mouth further into her, the wet smack of their mouth loud over the woman’s trembling moans.
You’ve never seen such a raw, carnal exchange. As Taehyung apologizes and grabs you and Jimin, pulling you back out into the hallway, you know you’ll never forget that momentary vision. Even as Jimin directs you to the right room to change your shirt in, you replay the scene over and over in your head, thinking of a different detail every single time: the pleasure on the woman’s face, the delicate bow of her back, the soft swells of her breasts, the wet sounds of the mouth between her legs.
It haunts you. You swallow thickly when you’re done changing, skin still smelling like beer. Your mind wanders to Yoongi, wondering if this is what he was talking about when he spoke of desire. If he also meant physical desire, the indulgence of the erotic variety.
The thought shames you so thoroughly you’re silent the rest of the night. You’re embarrassed by your immediate curiosity - angry that you even entertained the thought of being in that position with Yoongi, no matter how fleeting the idea was.
Yoongi certainly did not mean he was going to teach you that - did he?
You shake the thoughts from your head and focus on reality. Of course he didn’t mean that. Taehyung was right when he spoke about the relationships between humans and dreams - it could never be something.
-
Sweat trickles down your neck slowly. You feel every inch of it, your skin sensitive and over-warm. Your stomach clenches and your hands twist in your sheets as a hot mouth presses against your throat, teeth scraping, tongue licking.
An inferno grows inside of you as the mouth sinks lower. You hear your heaving breaths, loud and ragged. Your heart beats in your ears, the staccato almost louder than the whimper that leaves your mouth when a wet, messy kiss is placed on your collarbone.
It’s madness. It’s tortuous. It’s glorious, this feeling thrumming through you, making you twist your head to the side, muscles clenching and letting loose over and over again, your body completely at war with itself.
But it feels so good.
One of your hands shoots to the silky, dark hair of the person kissing your chest. You card your fingers through soft strands, tugging a little. A deep, throaty moan escapes the lips pressed to your skin, breath hot and warm.
Dark eyes meet yours, lips parted and swollen, Yoongi’s pupils blown and -
Panic explodes. You realize it’s Yoongi kissing you this way. Yoongi’s hands skimming up your sides, Yoongi’s mouth pressing searing kisses to your flesh, Yoongi’s moan that is falling from his lips, honey sweet.
“We can’t,” you whisper, though dream-Yoongi just stares at you, eyes fathomless. “We could never be something.”
“Of course we can,” he murmurs, tilting his head to the side. “You are everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”
The weight of his gaze is blazing. You feel your skin burn under the heat of it, you feel like it’s harder to breathe, you feel the sweat run down your spine, your arms, you feel like you’re overheating, it’s hot it’s too-
-
You wake up to something screeching. For a moment, daylight blinds you. You hold your hands in front of your face, shielding your eyes from the light. But the light is an inferno of heat against your hand, making you gasp and choke on thick air as you blink sleep away, trying to make sense of where you are.
Fire. It isn’t daylight you’ve woken up to, it’s fire.
Leaping up from bed, you throw your sheets off, scrambling to push yourself against the wall. The flames are already high, licking toward the ceiling and filling your room with thick, grey smoke as the fire eats at the old wood of your house.
The screech comes again, the shutters on your window rattling. Heart pounding, you slide your hand along the wall, fingers trembling as you press them into the wood, trying to find the metal latch to open them. You cover the lower half of your face with your opposite arm, coughing into it.
Your fingers slip on the latch, sweaty and shaking. You inch closer to the window, getting a solid grip on the metal and flipping it upward. The latch clacks and the windows swing open, a gust of wind entering the room. It makes matters worse, the oxygen fueling the fire into a rage as it climbs higher and jumps towards your bed.
You look frantically around your room, realizing you can’t take anything. The writing desk in the corner is aflame, all of the sheets of paper and your hard-earned practice curling into smoke as they’re consumed, your letters from Yoongi turning to ash.
“No!” you sob, realizing those things are lost forever.
Again, there’s a wild screech. You turn to look out the window to see a large, brown owl - Guardian, you realize - screeching, flapping its great wings, gold eyes fixated on the fire. It yells at you again, as though imploring you to move.
You take a breath and dive out the window. For a moment as you fall toward the ground, you’re reminded that this is the second time you’re having to use it to escape danger. That thought sinks like a stone in your stomach, going down, down, down until it rests weighty in your gut.
The smack of the ground rattles you. Every part of you hurts, bones jolting as you roll until you’re flat on your back, gasping as the air leaves your lungs momentarily, knocked out of you. Scrambling up despite your limbs protesting in pain, you look up at the fire crawling over your house.
That’s when you notice it - the noise and the yelling of voices. Inside your home, with the roaring and crackling of the fire, you couldn’t hear the crowd outside. Now, you see them in full. They carry torches and farm tools, some of them with axes and hoes, others with scythes.
They don’t see you yet, giving you a long moment to stare open-mouthed as the pieces of the puzzle slide together. They’ve set your home on fire because of you - they’ve tried to kill you. Because they think you’re a demon and because they think you’re an evil creature.
Heart in your throat, you scan the lines of the faces. Toward the edge, you see your parents. A group of women consoles your mother, holding her by the shoulders gently as she stares into the orange flame. Your father stands a few feet away, almost by himself, watching and watching and watching.
They knew you were asleep. And your window had not been closed before bed - you’d been leaving it open at night so Guardian could come and go as he pleased.
You sit there on the ground, staring in shock, for too long. Someone notices you and points, screaming something that you cannot hear over the blood rushing in your ears. Panic seizes you and you scramble to your feet, sliding a few times as the crowd runs at you.
There’s no time to see what your parents do. The image of them watching their home burn with the thought of you inside is fresh in your memory, a razor-sharp cut that flays you open as you turn and run. Run toward the woods where Nathaniel chased you on that fateful night.
Run to the woods you almost died in. Run to the woods where Yoongi swooped in and made a promise to protect you.
Darkness descends. You think for a moment as you enter the woods that you won’t get lucky a second time, that your luck has run out. It’s the panic that scrambles your thoughts, and the memories of Nathaniel chasing you through these woods make you stumble and fall.
You don’t make it far. You trip over a tree root and tumble into strong arms. The smell of clove and cinnamon is overpowering as you look up at Yoongi, who pulls you into his chest. You let him, sliding your arms around his middle and pressing your face into his neck as you squeeze your eyes shut.
“I’ve got you, little lamb.” His voice is dark as the shadows that wrap around you, cool and soothing to the touch. “They cannot hurt you.”
As Yoongi whisks you away like that fateful night, you hear the echoing voice scream behind you. Devil! Demon King! The Dark God!
-
“It’s my fault,” Yoongi murmurs, cradling your face to inspect it for the tenth time. He’s crouching in front of you, dark eyes wild as he inspects your face for any damage. You pull your jaw from his grasp - even if his touch tingles pleasantly - and look in the other direction. “I should have known.”
“Yes,” Taehyung snaps behind Yoongi, arms crossed and presence thundering. “You should have.”
There is no fire going in the library tonight. You have a feeling Yoongi has extinguished it for obvious reasons, but you say nothing. You look over Yoongi’s dark head to where Taehyung is raging, his face pinched with anger. You give him a look and he tosses his hands in the air.
“What?” he demands. “It’s true.”
“Taehyung.”
“I’m not going to lie to him. He should have known sending you back was an idiotic idea. Thinking anyone would have accepted you was an oversight.”
Yoongi grits his teeth and stands. You watch as he visibly tries to control his frustration, taking a step back from you. Tonight, he’s dressed in all black. His cloak is still on and his necklaces pool at his throat, the silver cold in the dark of the library. His hair is pulled back out of his face and you think he looks like the real Eternal, tonight.
He turns to Taehyung. “You know why I sent her back.”
“Yes, your fucked up sense of morality and-”
“Don’t talk about me like I’m not sitting right here,” you snap. You ball your fists in your lap. You’re still dressed in night clothes and the scent of ash and sweat is heavy on your skin. You stare at your hands. “I want to go to bed.”
“Alright.” Yoongi’s extended hand appears in front of you. You drag your eyes up to meet his. Gone is the anger and severity, replaced only with a soft, almost fond expression. “I’ll walk you.”
Putting your hand in Yoongi's, you let him pull you out of the chair.
You could be mad at him if you tried. Perhaps it would be easy to blame Yoongi for sending you back to keep some semblance of normalcy in your life. Maybe you would feel lighter if you got angry with him for promising to protect you, but only being able to physically do so, unable to shield you from the hatred of your community.
If you tried, perhaps you could blame him for not letting you drown in the first place. For bringing you here with the fantasy that you could exist with one foot in each world.
You’re not mad at him, though. Unlike Taehyung, you don’t need to wonder why Yoongi wanted you to spend two weeks in the real world. The real world is yours. It’s where you belong. To want some sort of normalcy for you or hope that you’d be able to pick up your life there anew was perhaps shortsighted, but rooted in the desire to do good for you.
So you’re not angry with Yoongi, though you’re not sure you’re pleased either.
The walk to your room is silent. Yoongi has let go of your hand but he walks close enough that your arms brush, sending shivers down your spine. You don’t know what to say, so you say nothing, and he seems content to let you keep your thoughts to yourself.
This isn’t how you wanted to see him for the first time since your two weeks spent in your realm.
The inside of your room is warm, but there’s no fire. You almost ask if he’s doused every flame in the house, and protest that you’re not afraid, but you don’t. He follows you into your room and shuts the door behind him. You walk toward the chaise and sit on it, looking up at where he hovers by the door.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, eyes finding yours. The emotions there are deep, but unreadable. “It was foolish of me to think they’d accept you as you were. Foolish to think that maybe the relationship with your parents might mend.”
“You couldn’t have known.”
“I am thousands of years old. Humankind has not changed so much in their ability to fear the unknown and react violently. I do know better, but I…” You wait for him to explain further, but he doesn’t. Yoongi lets the sentence drift off into the night. Instead of finishing it, he ventures, “Are you sure you’re unharmed?”
“Yeah, Guardian was screeching at the window.”
“Guardian?”
“Yeah, the owl. I assumed you sent it to watch over me.”
Yoongi frowns. “No, that’s what Taehyung was for. I did not…”
“What?” You see the look on his face change, shifting from confused to steel calm. “What is it?”
“Hoseok,” Yoongi mutters, turning to exit your room. “Try to get some sleep. I have a meddling owl to deal with.”
As he moves to close the door, you lean forward. “Yoongi?” He looks up, eyes wide, expression soft. He looks like a dark star, just then. The light from the window makes him glow from within, his eyes endless pools, his power ebbing in the room, a constant energy. “Thank you.”
His mouth turns downward. “For what?”
“Saving me. Again.”
His eyes darken. “Your safety will always be paramount to me. I’ll do better.”
“I think you’re doing the best you are able.”
“Thank you for saying so.”
Silence hangs between the two of you. It’s heavy, filled with friction that wasn’t there before. You squirm where you sit, suddenly unable to meet the set of eyes pinned to you. You’d forgotten what his gaze could do to you in person, and now the full force of it is dizzying.
“Goodnight, little lamb.”
-
A gentle scratch sounds on the other side of the window. You look up from your writing desk to the windows facing the mountains. Beyond the first sprawling peaks, you see the tallest of them all, the dark mountain wreathed in shadow and lightning.
The thunder rolls, vibrating your bones. You stare at the mountain, feeling the hair at the back of your neck stand on end. You grip the quill tight.
Beneath the hum of thunder, you hear a scratching on the glass again. You squint, but you see nothing there. Just open air and those ominous mountains in the back, watching you as you scrawl your letters.
Carefully, you set the quill down and get up. The floor is cold as you walk toward the window, which is strange. The floor is always warm in your room, as are the walls and most of the House of Dreams, fueled by whatever magic lives through Yoongi.
Near the glass, you almost feel how cold the window is. You frown and lift a hand, pressing a single finger against a pane. It’s freezing to the touch and you yank your hand back, perplexed as you stare at the single fingerprint left by your warm skin.
The fingerprint fades but the scratching sound does not. A gentle scritch scritch scritch, like a nail on the window.
“My betrothed,” someone whispers. Your blood runs cold and you whirl around, expecting to find someone standing in your bathroom. “Won’t you open the window for me? It’s so cold outside.”
Fear turns your stomach into acid. Your hands begin to shake as you stare into the emptiness of your room, suddenly feeling like it’s darker. Did the ceilings get taller? Is your room blurry at the edges? The scratching on the window intensifies, and with trembling lips, you turn to look over your shoulder.
There’s nothing outside, but there’s a shadowy reflection on the glass. A little taller than you. A little wider.
“Betrothed,” Nathaniel whispers again. “Won’t you let me in to reunite?”
For a moment, there is silence. The shadow doesn’t move. You don’t dare breathe. The shadow leaps at you and a scream tears through you -
Hands press you into something soft. You kick and scream, lashing out. Sheets tangle your legs and stick to your sweaty skin. Suddenly it feels like you can’t breathe and you thrash wildly, screaming at the top of your lungs as you claw at whatever’s holding you down.
Panic like never before seizes you. Your head smacks into something hard and it knocks you backward, suddenly dizzy as a hand comes up to your head automatically. It hurts where your fingers press into the skin, and you’re momentarily subdued by the way the room spins; the pain morphs your panic into confusion.
Breathing heavily, you blink your eyes rapidly, tears streaming down your face and vision a little blurry as you try and put the pieces together. Finally, you realize Taehyung is sitting on the floor next to your bed with his hand pressed against his forehead, in a similar fashion to your current state. Yoongi stands next to him, hands held up tentatively, as though he is about to grab you or has just let you go.
Silence hangs in the air, your breathing ragged. Your head - which you can surmise you’ve smacked against Taehyung’s - throbs wildly. As though sensing your discomfort and sticky thoughts, Yoongi’s eyes flicker away from your gaze to your head.
“May I fix that?” he asks slowly, voice gentle. “You smacked heads quite hard. I’m concerned you may be concussed.”
“Concussed,” you repeat back slowly. The word feels heavy on your tongue. “Right.”
Yoongi’s face colors with concern and he gestures toward you, asking permission again. It takes you another minute to put it together, but you nod dumbly, watching as he steps forward very slowly, dark eyes looking for any sign of protest or panic from you.
When you don’t bolt or swing at him, he takes another step toward you, hands reaching up toward your skull. You flinch when he reaches near and he stops, hands hovering. You can feel the heat of his skin a hair's breadth away, feel the magic skimming along him where he hesitates.
You look up at Yoongi. His eyes are wide and full of concern, his brows pulled up. His tongue darts out to lick his lips nervously as his eyes shift from your head to your eyes, trying to assess what to do. You smell cinnamon and clove and it calms you a little.
This is Yoongi. Not Nathaniel. Yoongi, who saved you from the grips of that hateful man and who brought you here. Somewhere that made you happy.
“It’s okay,” you whisper. You feel tired suddenly, like your adrenaline is waning and the aftereffects are bleeding you out. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” he whispers, pressing his hands gently to your head. You wince, the lump there giving a painful throb as he does.
“Maybe apologize,” Taehyung mutters from his spot on the floor. “Are you going to give me magic hand, too?”
“Silence, Taehyung.” Yoongi’s voice is cutting. It’s a voice you’ve never heard him use with Taehyung, your eyes shooting up to his in shock. He pays you no mind, focused on his hands.
Warmth emanates from his palms. Immediately you feel the tingle of magic. It’s soothing, making your eyes flutter as you become dizzy again. You let the warmth wash over you, accompanied by a peculiar array of senses: dark spicy smells; the feeling of velvet against your skin; the taste of cherry wine; a warm breath against your lips.
You shiver, head rolling back a little as it grows heavy and you grow drowsy suddenly, limbs weighted, mind fading.
“I didn’t… I didn’t know that was a dream.” Yoongi grimaces and says nothing. “Why didn’t that feel like a dream, Yoongi?”
“Sleep,” Yoongi murmurs, and his voice feels very far away. “You’ll be fine, now. You don’t have to worry about anything.”
“Thank you.”
“An easy fix.”
Yoongi removes his hand and you catch his wrist gently, eyes opening for a moment. “No,” you slur, speech heavy as the exhaustion pulls at you. “Thank you for saving me.”
You don’t know if you mean before, or when your neighbors came for you, or now. Maybe you mean all of it. Maybe you mean saving you from a life that you hated and bringing you here. You mean it nonetheless, though you’re unsure from where the bravery came to say it.
Dropping Yoongi’s wrist, you fall backward unceremoniously onto your bed. There is no fear of Nathaniel scratching at the glass anymore, your mind mostly empty, save for the smell of cinnamon and clove.
Yoongi and Taehyung gather to leave your room, and as you fade, you catch the tiniest bit of conversation from Taehyung. “... need to teach her. It’s only going to get worse… spinner.”
Sleep takes you.
-
Being back in the House of Dreams feels like home. Though the lingering feeling of hot flame and the look on your parents’ faces as they watch their home burn still haunts you, you feel safer than you have in the last week.
In the House of Dreams, there's no one to mutter prayers and sign wards against evil as you pass by. There’s no one glaring at you - except Taehyung, who pouts when you steal the last of the honey for your toast at breakfast. It’s just Yoongi and Taehyung, who talk more chipper than usual at breakfast.
You eye Yoongi carefully. He sits at the head of the table, dressed in a beautiful, jade-colored silk shirt. His hair is pulled back in a bun, earrings dangling as he leads forward and plucks melon from the bowl in front of him.
Yoongi lifts the fruit to his mouth. You pause chewing your toast, eyes focused on the way he bites into the fruit, lips plush around it, a bead of juice running down his chin. Suddenly you’re thinking about the night at The Desert Rose, a head between legs, a back that’s arched, skin sweaty-
Taehyung clears his throat from across the table and draws your attention. He’s staring at you with thinly veiled amusement, wiggling his eyebrows up and down. You scowl and take a large bite of your toast before swallowing what's in your mouth, feeling heat bloom in your cheeks and neck.
Yoongi is none the wiser, chewing happily on his fruit as he scratches Tiara under her chin. She chirps like a bird and purrs like a cat, letting out small curls of smoke everytime she puffs happily.
Your mouth twitches in a smile as you look at your plate, happy to be back with them.
“I want you to come to the Dream Tower with me today,” Yoongi ventures lightly. You snap your gaze up in surprise. He looks casual, as though he’s not offering you to come to the place he works, filled with magic and dreams. “I think you could help me.”
“Me?”
His mouth quirks. “Is there another human prone to trouble around here that I’m not aware of?”
“I thought you blamed yourself?”
“So I do. But yes - you.”
“How do you want me to help?”
Yoongi grins as he pops another piece of fruit into his sinful mouth. “You’ll see.”
Despite your excitement and the promise of a look inside Yoongi’s lair, even him asking for your help doesn’t earn you a break from daily reading and writing lessons. When Yoongi gestures to the assigned work on your desk, you throw him a severe look followed by a pout. As endeared as he seems, he is unwavering, patting your desk chair as he walks by.
You’re not really mad. You fall into an easy calm as you sit down and scoot up toward the desk. The fire is low and crackling in the fireplace today and the library smells faintly of cardamom as you work. Tiara flights around the second story of the room, chittering and following Yoongi - who seems to be organizing the shelves.
Taehyung vanishes to do whatever it is he does during the day. You’re not even sure if it’s day in your world. You hope he will take you to The Desert Rose again to see Jimin and to drink cider. You love the warmth of the crowd and the loud bustle.
The House of Dreams is quiet.
Time slips as you work. You lose yourself in swirling letters and short reading passages, so much so that when there is a tingling presence near your shoulder, you flinch, ripping your quill across the page and splattering ink.
Yoongi tsks and apologizes, grabbing an ink stained cloth to wipe the spilled liquid from the desk. His proximity makes your head spin, the edge of his hips grazing your shoulder as he leans over you to clean the mess you’ve made.
Mouth drying, you drop the quill and flex your hand, coughing out an apology as you try to organize your thoughts that spill like the ink on the desk at his nearness.
Being away from him almost made you forget how dizzying his presence could be. Yoongi regards your work in silence, but all you can focus on is the measured sound of his breathing, the warmth radiating from him, the curve of his mouth, the juice running down his-
“Ready?”
“What?” you ask, blinking and looking up at him owlishly. He gazes down at you, cocking a brow. It’s obvious he had asked you a question. “Sorry, I wasn’t listening?”
“What were you doing?”
“... Staring.”
“At?”
“The wall?”
“Are you asking me or telling me?” he questions, his voice laced with teasing.
You scowl and shove your chair backward into his stomach, knocking him back. He lets out a loud oof and a bit of laughter as you stand and stretch, hyperaware that he’s been in a rather cheeky mood since breakfast.
Together, you begin your walk to the tower. Tiara comes along, jumping up on Yoongi’s shoulder and curling herself around him like a scarf, her tail wrapped gently around his neck. She regards you with distaste and her tongue flickers out to taste the air, a curl of smoke escaping her nose as she huffs.
Fighting the urge to stick your tongue out at a dragon, you opt to walk in comfortable silence.
As you do, your thoughts inevitably drift to the night before and the dream that didn’t feel like a dream. For the most part, you feel like you can tell when you’re dreaming. There’s always an opaque feeling to your dreams, something a little off.
Now, you’re worried that perhaps you can’t tell the difference. You think that maybe you should ask Yoongi if he can help you tell the difference between being awake and dreaming, but your desire to ask is stopped as you reach the foot of stairs you’ve never climbed before.
Yoongi looks down at you as he begins ascending, giving you a gummy smile that sends your pulse galloping after him. You curse your traitor heart, trying to remember what Taehyung said to you about the relationship between dreams and humans. It could never work. But… you’re here. In Yoongi’s home, and you don’t know how long you’re allowed to stay - if you’re ever supposed to go back again.
Both of you seem to completely ignore that you were brought back to the dream realm ahead of schedule, that maybe going back is no longer an option.
There are doors leading to rooms as you ascend the stairs. Yoongi ignores all of them in favor of climbing up, up, and up. Your calves burn by the time you make it to the top, pausing to catch your breath and sweep your eyes across the large, circular room.
It’s stunning. Glancing up, your mouth falls open in surprise when you see that there is no ceiling, but a mass of writhing cosmos and something like a night sky. The nebulous display casts a lavender and blue glow on the room below, the two-tone light shifting and moving.
There are all manner of things in the room. Tables covered in papers, rich rugs with different designs, chairs and bookshelves and curiosity cabinets and glass cases full of glowing things that you cannot identify. Tiara hops off of Yoongi’s shoulder and floats on small wings toward a pile of blankets, twigs, and leaves that looks like a nest.
What demands your attention most, though, is the massive stone dais in the room, with a stone column about waist high with something that looks like a bowl carved into the top. From where you stand, you can see there’s liquid in the bowl that moves and shimmers with its own glow. Occasionally, a sparkle or wisp of color drifts from the cool surface.
Energy vibrates in the air. You can feel it like a static on your skin and taste it like a buzz on your tongue. You’re drawn to the dais, taking a step forward and halting. It feels like a hum shivers through you. You look at Yoongi, questioning.
“The dream pool,” he answers, as though you have any idea what that is.
He walks toward it and looks back at you, hesitating before he offers a hand. Excitement shoots through you as you take his hand and he pulls you toward it. Your hand tingles where you hold his. Even when you reach the dais and he lets go, there’s pins and needles left behind.
“This is where I help create dreams for those who can’t do it on their own.”
The liquid in the basin brightens as Yoongi steps up close. You watch as a watercolor of lights splashes across his face. He looks down into the bowl lovingly, a soft smile on his face, and so much adoration in his eyes that you find yourself watching him instead of the magical water in the bowl.
“This room is full of things that help inspire dreams. I make everything myself but Taehyung likes to help - he likes to decorate and fill the room with items that inspire creativity.”
“Somehow I think dream personified doesn’t need it.”
He shoots you a grin. “You’d be surprised. Come look.”
Tentatively, you step up next to him. You’re aware of how close you stand, his sleeves brushing yours as he places a hand on the basin. It comes up to your stomach and is two feet in diameter. The water looks so much deeper than you thought. You’re unable to see the bottom, an illusion that makes you dizzy.
Like the sky above, the water shimmers and moves with its own set of stars and colors. It feels alive, like whatever power is in the dream pool recognizes you and wakes up, spinning as you look into the glittering surface.
“I can feel and hear people dream,” Yoongi explains. “It’s like a frequency that I can tap into. I can turn it on and off at a whim. Those who don’t struggle to dream are so much quieter than those who cannot dream. I listen for those who cannot, and I come here and focus on them in my mind’s eye before creating them a dream. I pour in thoughts, feelings, scents, sounds, memories and the like into this bowl. I think it, and so it appears.”
“How?”
“What you’d call magic. Really it’s just divine power. This is a part of me,” he says, tapping the rim of the basin. “Just like dreams are.”
“How can I help you do… this?” you ask, gesturing wildly to the water.
Yoongi’s smile is angelic. “You have the raw capability of a dreamer. Someone who dreams so powerfully and loudly that it can’t help but catch my attention.”
“What does that mean?”
“Your imagination and your ability to come up with things is more innate than most people. You’re an innovator, a great conjurer of stories and fantasies. It’s a rare gift in humans. Some call you Spinners - you can spin dreams up just as easily as I can, with practice, but you cannot do so without a tool like this basin.”
“A spinner.” You remember the night before, hearing the word on Taehyung’s lips. “Are there others?”
He nods. “Under fifty in the entire world. I believe you’ve met another one. He’s the one Taehyung visits.”
“Jimin?”
“Mhmm. He’s like you. You have no power though, not in your world. Just raw ability.”
“So if I were to use this… pool of dreams, I could give people dreams.”
He nods, smiling. You smile back at him, his happiness infectious. You like the way his eyes crinkle when he grins broadly at you, the way his cheeks tint pink. It is strange to think that this soft man in front of you is also the same dark, powerful god who has swept in to save you, whose voice haunts your dreams and whose phantom touch lingers in all of the places that it shouldn’t.
Licking his lips and rolling his shoulders, Yoongi takes his stance at the basin. You watch, fascinated as he sweeps a hand over the surface, not touching the water. It ripples an entire rainbow of colors, casting shadows on his face when he peers down into the water as the surface smoothes out like a mirror.
An opaque image materializes on the surface. You watch as Yoongi concentrates. Slowly, things begin appearing. A cerulean ocean, waves rolling gently against a sandy beach. Foam clings to the sand. Starfish of every color - blue, green, red - begin to dot the beach. A gull cries above, so clear it feels like you’re there. Then you smell it - the salt, the brine. The subtle scent of driftwood. A breeze blows against your face, carrying the cool ocean mist.
You let out a laugh as Yoongi smiles, his eyes never leaving the images unfolding in the basin. You watch as a dolphin crests a wave, earning a gasp from you. You’ve never seen a dolphin, only heard about them in passing from fishermen from the coast. They spray water high into the air as they break the waves, moving smoothly through glittering waters.
It feels so real and warm, the dream bright and full of hope. Happiness. Excitement. You feel what Yoongi pours into the basin, your toes curling as though you can feel hot sand beneath your feet.
“The trick,” Yoongi explains carefully, “Is imagining everything that would make it feel real. It can’t be just what you see. It has to be what you hear, what you feel, what you smell, what emotions you evoke. You have to do all of these things at once - you have to believe in them all at once. Dreams about real things are the easiest. More complex dreams can include anything you can imagine that humans believe to be fake: dragons, brownies, griffons.”
“How do you know what to give?”
“You feel it. Place your hand on the side.”
Carefully, you lift your hand to the side of the dream pool. You hesitate and look up at Yoongi, eyes wide. He gives you an encouraging nod. You place your hand on the bowl, feeling the warm stone.
A pulse of energy flows through you. You gasp, flinching a little as you feel the basin come alive under your touch. You close your eyes as sensations flood you: hopelessness, stress, exhaustion. Suddenly, Yoongi’s dream makes sense. He instills a sense of peace and serenity at the beach, of hope and wonder with the dolphins, of rest with the cool wind and warm sand.
“Amazing,” you breathe, eyes still closed. “This is wonderful.”
“I’ll do some more. Keep your hand where it is. You’ll feel what it is they feel. Try not to think too hard about anything while you’re connected - let me do the work.”
Watching Yoongi work can happen with your eyes closed, you realize. You lose yourself in time and space. No longer are you in the Dream Tower. Now, Yoongi walks you through the world.
You enter through dreams, feeling sudden sadness or loss, even heartache. Every dream you encounter, there is profound suffering at the beginning. Yoongi gently sends the pain on its way, observes what each dreamer needs, and begins spinning up images. Sounds. Feelings.
Rain falls on your face as you stand over the tops of a misty forest. It’s gentle and cool to the touch, soothing. You smell pine and damp earth, giving you energy. Your toes feel the wet grass beneath you, grounding you and making you feel more centered than you ever have.
Wheat brushes the tips of your fingers. You look out into a sea of gold, healthy crops bending with the wind. An azure sky stretches mile after mile, not a cloud in sight as the sun heats your skin. You smell fresh air and hear the grasshoppers buzz among the fresh stalks of wheat, feeling the reward of growing healthy grain.
A dog runs after a ball. The hills are the brightest shade of green you’ve ever seen, the dog dashing up the hill and barking loudly. You feel laughter bubble up your throat and unfettered joy as thick clouds float by. The dog grabs the ball and runs back, its tail wagging and coat shiny. You feel nostalgic and happy to be reunited with a friend.
Fireflies flicker to life in a forest at night. They alight on the tree branches and your arms, casting gold luminescence on your skin. You marvel at them, spinning in a circle as you look at the dark trees. You smell the maple sap and the bark, you hear the crickets.
It’s just like the woods near your house -
Your house.
A slice of fear goes through you. You remember the darkness of the woods as Nathaniel tried to drown you, the press of his fingers into your skull. The roaring of the flooding water and the burning of your lungs. The fireflies flicker out one by one and the darkness begins to grow. You’re suddenly terrified. Curiosity vanishes and is replaced with deep fear.
You taste stale water in your mouth. You smell the smoke of your burning house. You feel water rushing up to your ankles and inching higher, you hear the screams of Nathaniel’s vitriol, you feel your lungs start to fill, the air stars to leave, the roots of the trees grab at your feet-
A sharp yank pulls you out of the forest. You gasp for air, falling backward off of the dais and onto the floor. Gentle hands cradle your face and you hear a deep voice calling out to you, speaking your name through the dull roar in your ears.
Blinking, you look upward to see Yoongi inches away from your face. His eyes are round and gentle, his hands steady. Warm. He’s so close you can feel his breath on your lips as he leans over you. A strand of dark hair escapes his bun, falling across his forehead and eye. You don’t know why, but you think it looks dashing.
“Hey,” he murmurs, searching your face. “Are you with me?”
“Yeah,” you rasp, lungs heaving. “What happened?”
His thumb brushes back and forth across your cheek as he sighs, but he doesn’t let go of your face. “You thought of the night that I saved you. Your fear was powerful. Raw. As you started to remember things you grew more afraid and you took over the dream.”
You blink once. Twice. Remember the way that the fireflies suddenly flickered out and how the water started to rush in from nowhere. “I did that?”
“I didn’t expect you to be such a natural. I had a feeling but… you caught me by surprise and shoved me out.”
“I can do that?”
“When I’m caught off guard, yes. You took control of creating the dream and turned it into…”
“A nightmare.”
He nods. “It’s my fault. I didn’t think you would think that forest looked the same, but I was wrong. I keep… having oversights. I’m sorry. I’m not good at this.”
“Good at what?”
“Being human.”
Silence suspends between you. You’re sprawled on the floor of the Dream Tower with Yoongi hovering over you. His knees are pressed against your hips and his shirt collar is hanging low as he leans, revealing more skin than you’ve ever seen from him. You don’t dare drop your eyes from his, staring at their dark depths.
The space between you is minimal and neither of you move. You hope he cannot hear the way your heart hammers in your chest or sense the way your body crackles like lightning, sparking at his proximity. The nightmare you made is long forgotten, replaced with his touch, his smell, his closeness.
Yoongi holds your face delicately, like a treasured item. You cannot imagine that he means to hold you so, but the sudden want that licks through you is powerful, your desire for him to hold you like you’re something precious surprising you in its strength.
“You make me want to get better at it.” His voice is soft, barely even a whisper.
“At what?”
A gentle laugh. “Being human. It is unfamiliar, but I wish to know more of what it's like. To have more of the instinct.”
“Why?”
He pauses. “Because I’ve lived for thousands of years, and never really had the chance to try.”
It is a similar sentiment that Taehyung had shared. The thought of Taehyung makes you smile, sitting up suddenly. Yoongi leans back on his haunches quickly, careful not to knock heads. “What?” he asks, noting your sudden excitement.
“Has Taehyung ever taken you to the Desert Rose?”
“No, I can’t say I’ve been interested. Why?”
You grab his hand. You notice the way he seems surprised, but he doesn’t pull away as you scramble to your feet. “You want to see what it’s like to be human. I know a place.”
-
Yoongi makes a face as he sips the beer Taehyung has thrust into his hands. You and Taehyung laugh, tossing your heads back with it. Yoongi looks unimpressed but continues to drink nonetheless, his dark eyes scanning the crowded bar.
He sticks out like a sore thumb. Eyes are immediately drawn to Yoongi wherever he goes. You think everyone must feel the divinity as he walks by them, his power a magnet for attention. Even sitting at the table with you and Taehyung, tucked near the door, people turn in their seats to get a good look at him or pause when they enter the Desert Rose.
It doesn’t help that he looks beautiful. Air had gotten stuck in your throat when he arrived at the library at the appointed time to meet you and Taehyung to come here. His hair hangs in soft waves around his face, earrings peaking between inky strands when he moves his head. His dark shirt is long-sleeved but unbuttoned at the throat, revealing a strip of pale, smooth skin and his layered necklaces. His eyes are glittering tonight, almost like constellations are held within.
Yoongi is the night. The black pants and black boots paired with the shirt make him look like a dark prince. Perhaps the son of the moon, even. You notice the way the stares turn from curious to hungry, Yoongi lighting a fire among those around him.
Jealousy sours your stomach. You hate that it does, but it’s like a second instinct, some sort of possessive monster rearing its head as you avert your gaze when a beautiful man asks Yoongi if he wants to dance. Yoongi shakes his head, giving a polite smile in return before turning away and chugging more of his drink.
If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was nervous.
“Thousands of years old and a room full of people scares you,” Taehyung teases, confirming your suspicions. Yoongi’s gaze is thin as a razor. “You should get out more. I’ve been telling you that.”
“Eternals don’t make a habit of walking around the human realm. Our presence disturbs the natural chemistry of the world.”
“Then why did you spend so many days in the wood-”
Yoongi kicks Taehyung under the table. He hollers in pain as Yoongi glowers, making you giggle. Though he’s no natural among the crowd, you can see that he’s trying to fit in. He watches the way people slouch in their chair and he imitates it. Drinks more of his beer, not because of the taste but because it's what people do here.
Music thrums in the room. There is a crowd of people clapping their hands and dancing, stomping their feet along to the music. You nervously look at Yoongi throughout the night, trying to see if he’s enjoying himself, wondering what he thinks of the place.
A couple near your table knocks over a pitcher of mead as the man presses the woman into the table in an arduous kiss. You can’t help but watch for a moment, entranced by the way he kisses her as though he’ll die if he doesn’t, as if her lips are the last thing he wants to remember.
Sensing Yoongi’s gaze on you, you glance at him. He stares at you, drinking you in before his eyes drift to the couple you’d been studying. Embarrassment heats your face as you bring your cup to your lips, hiding behind the tankard as you take large gulps of cider.
The cider takes the edge off. It makes you feel warm and loose, though you’re still a little nervous with Yoongi’s quiet countenance sitting beside you.
“Jimin’s here!” you announce excitedly, clapping your hands together when he appears downstairs. Taehyung’s knee bumps into the bottom of the table as he jerks to turn around. “Jimin should meet Yoongi!”
“I would love to.”
Taehyung groans. “No, please.”
“Why not?” Yoongi demands. “Should I not meet the human that brings my friend here most evenings? Should I not meet the friend of my -” Yoongi looks at you and stumbles over his words. “- my friend?”
Friend. You’re not sure if the word fits, exactly. But you don’t know what else it is that Yoongi would call you. Friend implies something beyond acquaintances, which you are sure you are. But it fits like an ill-sized dress, hanging crooked on your frame.
“I don’t want you to scare him off!” Taehyung protests.
Yoongi looks dubious. “Why would I do that?”
“Shut up,” you hiss as Jimin notices you. You lift your hand in an eager wave, beckoning him over. “Yoongi, be nice.”
“I am nice. Do you think I’m not nice?”
Instead of answering him, you get up to greet Jimin warmly with a chaste kiss on the cheek and a brief hug. When you step back, you see Yoongi’s burning gaze, a tick in his jaw as he stares Jimin down, tonguing his cheek. You hiss at Yoongi and snap your finger to signal for him to drop the severe expression.
He looks at you and his features smooth out as he rises to his feet lithely, reaching an arm around you. Yoongi startles you when he places his hand on your mid-back as he leans forward to shake Jimin’s, introducing himself.
The contact is so brief that you wonder if he had done it at all as he sits down. For a moment, you’re the only one standing, staring at Yoongi in confusion as the three men sit. They all look at you expectantly and you plop down suddenly.
“Are you alright?” Jimin asks, mirth evident in his voice.
“Yes,” you answer quickly, still recovering. It felt like a deliberate touch. Firm, but gentle. Polite, but… something. “How are you?”
To your pleasure - and Taehyung’s evident relief - Yoongi and Jimin get along fine. If Jimin is put off by Yoongi’s peculiarity, he doesn’t show it. You wonder if he’s used to being around Taehyung, who has his own strange charm and inhuman energy vibrating around him.
Yoongi says little, but seems comfortable. You watch him as he watches Taehyung, who has stars in his eyes every time he looks at Jimin. He leans closer to Jimin as they mutter about something conspiratorially, giggling behind their hands. Jimin brushes a strand of hair out of Taehyung’s face and the love that blooms in Taehyung’s expression is so evident that you wonder if Jimin knows. He has to know. And he looks like he feels the same.
When Jimin drags Taehyung up to dance, you encourage them, shooing them off toward the growing crowd of people spinning around the room. Tables are shoved out of the way, chairs scraping to make room for the revelers. You move your chair some as your table is pushed, making the beers tilt dangerously.
Yoongi grabs the leg of your chair and pulls it roughly toward him. Before you can say something, someone stumbles where your chair just was, toppling into the table next to you. You look at Yoongi with shock and he winks before returning to lounging in his seat, watching the crowd.
Now that you’re sitting much closer to him, you can smell him. Still, you try to relax, watching as Jimin teaches Taehyung the steps to the dance the crowd is doing.
“Thank you for bringing me here,” Yoongi says over the loud voices. “This is nice. I see why Taehyung likes it.”
“You don’t hate it?” He makes a face and you laugh. “Yoongi, you hate it.”
“It’s a bit loud, but I don’t hate it. I like the quiet. I like… solitude. But not always. This is a good break.”
“So you never just… stroll among the people sometimes?”
“Never had a reason to.”
“But how can you make dreams if you don’t know people?”
“Dreams are inherent to me. They are an instinct. They aren’t born from people. They’re born from something rawer than that. People just happen to dream.”
You hum, not sure that you follow. Silence lulls between you as the song changes. “This place is so different from anywhere I’ve been,” you tell him. “My mother and father would have hated a place like this where people want so freely and people are so… provocative.”
“Life is provocative. So is nature, and magic. And dreams.”
“Is that why you’re a god of desire, too?” He nods once, his eyes on you. “Can you… sense what people innately desire? All the time?”
You don’t ask the real question, which is: Can you tell what I desire when I’m with you? Still, Yoongi shrugs a shoulder. “Snippets. LIke I said, I try not to pry. I don’t think that anyone here needs to be inspired by me to delve into what they want here, that’s for sure.” His eyes darken. “Though perhaps there is one.”
It is not your imagination when he says it. You know that he means you. This you are sure of. You stare at Yoongi, the rest of the room fading away. He stares right back at you, as though willing you to agree, or to deny his claim. Your heart speeds up and you feel the sweat on your neck, the slick on your palms.
“You said you’d help me indulge.” Your voice shakes when you say it. “How… do I do that?”
Yoongi’s mouth kicks up at the side. He leans forward and offers you a hand. When you just stare at it, he laughs. “Dance with me.”
“Dancing? That is indulging?”
“You might be surprised.”
Tension goes taught between you. You feel it sizzling in the air as you stare one another down. Yoongi’s hand remains outstretched, beckoning. Slowly, you put the cup of cider down and slide your hand into his. You’ve done this so many times, letting him lead you somewhere or help you up.
When Yoongi grips your hand and pulls you to your feet, it feels different than all the times before. The soft, gentle Eternal of dreams has melted away and left something sharper. Darker. Edgier. Your heart flutters butterfly-fast as he leads you to where there are people spinning in tight circles on the floor.
Yoongi yanks you toward him, pulling you into his chest. One hand loops over his shoulder, your palm cradling the back of his neck, while the other grips his. His hand goes snuggling around your waist, pulling you firmly to him as he ducks his head toward your ear, voice deep and soft as he whispers, “Follow me.”
You would follow him anywhere, you think. Anywhere at all.
Dancing is not something you ever recall doing. It wasn’t necessary where you grew up. Most of your festivals in town were a reserved affair and you’d never been to any parties or celebrations. Most weddings were stiff and formal, and not for merriment as much as respect.
Now, your world turns into a kaleidoscope of color and laughter. Yoongi spins you around the room, his feet smooth and fast. You stumble to keep up at first, but Yoongi is a confident lead, his steps instructing yours, his hands pulling and guiding you as you go.
Laughter rushes out of you. You cannot help the glee that glitters in your veins. Yoongi’s laughter is like spilled moonlight. You look up at him with a grin, seeing his gummy smile as he dips you suddenly, making you squeal. Your fingers tangle in his shirt. You know he won’t drop you but the exhilaration is in your veins as he lifts you back up, crushing you to him.
Your arms and legs burn with effort as you continue. The song changes and Yoongi lets go and spins you. You go crashing into Taehyung’s arms. He’s a far worse dancer than Yoongi, and the two of you are a mess of tripped feet, trilling laughter and elbows into ribs. He pushes you back to Yoongi’s waiting arms.
It terrifies you how much it feels like home, like a key sliding into a lock. Your arms go around him as his hands squeeze your waist. You come alive where you touch, looking up at him. He watches you, the shadow of his lashes framing delicate eyes. His mouth is red and soft.
Yoongi’s eyes dart down to your mouth. Your breath catches and he moves a little closer, pressing his head to yours, noses brushing. The entire world vanishes and it’s just Yoongi, his lips so close you can almost taste them, his fingers digging into your hips.
Your eyes flutter shut just as someone crashes into you. You scream as you’re knocked hard into Yoongi, the two of you stumbling as he catches you from falling over completely. The crowd goes wild with laughter as a man is sprawled on the ground, laughing and drunk, having lost his balance.
A breathless laugh escapes you as you and Yoongi straighten, separating a little. The moment between you is shattered, clattering away like pieces of broken glass as you catch your breath and gather your wits. You look around, searching for Taehyung only to see him alone at your table, eyes heavy and gaze lingering across the room. You turn to see Jimin leaning on the bar, smiling at something a woman is whispering in his ear.
Glancing back at Taehyung, you see him shove away from the table and storm out the door. Yoongi notices this too, but he’s slow on the uptake, his hand still on your hip. You shake off his hold on you and go after Taehyung, shouting his name.
Taehyung is just outside the Desert Rose, head tilted down and shoulders pulled up tight around his ears. When you touch the small of his back, he flinches, gazing at you with tear-stained eyes and a look so crestfallen you feel your heart crack.
He sniffs. “This is why,” he whispers. “This is why I told you we can never be. Humans and dreams - we aren’t. We don’t match.”
“Taehyung,” you whisper. You don’t know what else to say. You open your arms and he leans into you, folding in half as he sobs, breaking down into your shoulder. You hush him gently, holding him tight and squeezing him, trying to pour your love into him.
Over Taehyung’s shoulder, your gaze settles on Yoongi. He watches the two of you in silence, face impassive. And your heart breaks a little more, realizing the truth of Taehyung’s words.
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Secrets in Ink
Synopsis: Y/N is the author of a saga of adult books, but no one knows her identity, which makes her products sell more and more. Joshua Hong is a big fan of the books written by the author, but little does he know that his co-worker owns the words that make him thirsty.
Word count: 3.4k
Reader! Anonymous author, Joshua Hong! Reader
Warnings: smut, oral (f. and m. receiving), penetrative sex, a slight voyeurism, smacking, dick riding, fingering (f. receiving), begging, both switch, can have some grammatical errors, so I apologize in advance :)
The saga written by Y/N delved into the realms of passion, desire and forbidden love, creating a literary world that resonated with readers seeking an escape from the mundane. With each new release, expectations among fans reached new heights, fueled by the elusive nature of the author's identity.
Unbeknownst to bookworms, one of Y/N's most dedicated fans was Joshua Hong, a diligent worker at a publishing company in Seoul. Joshua's love for Y/N's books went beyond mere admiration; he found solace, excitement, and a connection to his own desires in the pages of tantalizing sagas.
Little did Joshua know that the woman responsible for his literary desires was none other than his own co-worker. Y/N found a job at the publishing house as a text and publishing analyst, carefully hiding her double life as a talented author. Her days were spent at the office, surrounded by colleagues who were oblivious to the fact that their easy-going co-worker was the mastermind behind the salacious stories that captivated the world.
As the popularity of Y/N's books continued to grow, Joshua's fascination with the elusive author deepened. He participated in online forums, attended autograph sessions, and even tried to discover the identity of the author, all to no avail. Y/N reveled in the irony of her situation, watching Joshua from across the office, knowing that the very person he wanted to discover was hiding in plain sight.
The tension between the secret author and her unwitting fan reached new heights when Y/N's latest release set the literary world on fire. Joshua, enraptured by the narrative, unknowingly sat mere tables away from the woman who wrote the words that fueled his fantasies.
Today was another end of the day where your work friends got together to take a break since the week was long enough. And the chosen destination was a bar that sold fried pork. Y/N was already thinking about the smell of her hair and clothes at the end of the night, while her coworkers commented on the huge success of the books published last Monday.
“They contacted the author today via e-mail, she was so nice! I can imagine the day she will appear at the company…” Eunji said dreamy to Y/N, who was already drinking her beer.
“Honestly, I never thought we would sell books like this.” Seungkwan said with a hand on his chest “It’s the best seller in years! Every day I want to kneel and thank god the the writer chosen our company, I love the fat salary in my account!”
“Facts! And one day I will be just like Y/N” Eunji breaks Y/N out of her trance as she rests her glass on the table, choking a little on her beer. “Me? Whyyy?” “You arrive on the company at 8a.m in a whole BMW and you think we wouldn’t notice?”
The woman smiles awkwardly and turn the pork belly on the little grill on your front “It was only thanks to my savings okay? Imagine how much that author must earn”
“Woah to have her bank account!”
“Imagine have a night with her! If she writes so well about it, then she must be a demon in bed” The girl by her side says and she couldn’t help but laugh sincerely. That was the part that Y/N love the most, the expectation of people about the writer’s life again.
“But honestly! Her books are so good, that's why it sells so much.” Joshua affirms.
Y/N gives him a curious glare “Oh! So you like her books?”
“Of course I do, the writing it’s so captivating, I could read all day long, without any problems” He rise his shoulders.
“Woah! Joshua reading those type of books? Oh! He is so romantic!” Seungkwan sulk at him punching his arm, while Joshua rolls his eyes. “Y’all should read the best seller of your company” Joshua argues.
[…]
After a long day of work, here was the part of the end of the day that Joshua was most looking forward to, as he settled into the comfort of his dimly lit room, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm tone across the pages, he eagerly dove into the latest release from your favourite anonymous author. The words unfolded like a well-choreographed dance, each sentence leaving him intrigued with what was to come in the narrative.
His eyes scanned the paragraphs, savoring the clever sentences and subtle nuances that made this mysterious writer truly exceptional. Anticipation rose within him, excitement akin to a child unwrapping a long-awaited gift.
The room seemed to come to life with the magic written on the thin pages, and Joshua found himself with his hand under his sweatpants during the heated dialogue and sighing at the intriguing plot twists. The anonymous writer had a way of infusing every line with an exciting energy that left him totally horny. Impatient, he takes off his own clothes from his already sweaty body. Again flipping another page of the book, masturbating his cock as he holds his bottom lip between his teeth. “Ah! Fuck”
Joshua found himself breathing shakily, while his hand worked harder on his hard cock, the muscles of his arms moved together with his hand, and the room is already filled with the moans that leave from his mouth. It doesn’t take long for Joshua cum in his abdomen holding tight the base of his cock with your head thrown back. He laid the book on this bedside table closing his eyes groaning before going to the bathroom.
[…]
Y/N, however, was not content with mere anonymity. She longed to unravel the carefully constructed façade of her fan, Joshua. Calculating her every move, she orchestrated a plan to reveal her true identity to him in the most unexpected way.
One day, as fate would have it, Joshua was called to Y/N's apartment to fix a supposed computer glitch since she was in her home office that particular day. Y/N meticulously organized the situation, ensuring that he would discover the truth amidst her literary kingdom. When Joshua arrived at Y/N's apartment, anticipation hung in the air like a charged melody.
The door opened, revealing Y/N standing before him, a sight of fascination. She greeted him with a inviting smile, wearing a sheer white shirt that offered a teasing glimpse of delicate lingerie underneath. Black pants clung to her waist, accentuating curves that, until then, only existed in his realm of imagination. The smell of her home, as well as her literary world, enveloped him – sweet, intoxicating, and inviting. The well-decorated space spoke volumes about the woman behind the words, a place where fantasies and realities converged perfectly.
Joshua, mesmerized by the scene before him, felt a sense of comfort in the atmosphere she had arranged. He waited patiently, his eyes taking in every nuance of the moment. Y/N, his sweet and kind co-worker, made a subtle but deliberate sign, inviting him to her office. With a tilt of her head and a shy smile, Y/N called Joshua into her office. The room, an extension of her creativity, welcomed him with warm tones and the soft glow of ambient lighting. The air was buzzing with a shared secret, and when Joshua entered the space where he barely knew the words that fueled his desires were crafted, he couldn't help but feel a shiver of anticipation.
As he delved deeper into the intricacies of her computer, the air grew thicker with expectation. As Joshua stepped into Y/N's home office, surrounded by filled with books and the subtle shelves aroma of new pages of paper, he went to work on his computer, unaware that the very secrets he sought were hidden in the files he was about to explore.
Smiling, she watched as Joshua stumbled upon a hidden folder containing the manuscripts of his beloved saga. Shock and realization danced across his face, the lines between fiction and reality blurring in a heady revelation. Y/N's secret was revealed before him, and he was caught in the tempting web she spun. The air crackled with tension as Joshua turned to Y/N, his eyes reflecting a mixture of amazement and desire. Her, the architect of the situation, revealed herself with a mischievous glow, her true identity no longer confined to the pages of her books.
In that intense moment, Y/N and Joshua found themselves at the intersection of fantasy and reality. The words that fueled Joshua's desires were no longer the creation of an elusive author, but the passionate reflections of a co-worker who skillfully orchestrated the revelation. As Y/N and Joshua stood enveloped in the charged atmosphere of her office, the unspoken tension between them reached its peak. The revelation had set the stage, and the air seemed to hum with a shared desire that transcended the boundaries of fiction. Y/N closed the distance between them. Joshua, captivated by the allure of the moment, met her halfway. Their lips touched in a kiss that held the weight of a collision of worlds where the line between fiction and reality continued to blur.
The kiss lingered, a moment suspended in time, before Y/N pulled away with a subtle smile. Without breaking eye contact, she took Joshua's hand, leading him out of the office and into her room. The journey through her creatively adorned space was a sensory experience—books whispering stories from shelves, the subtle aroma of scented candles filling the air, and the glow of ambient lighting casting a warm hue. Every step felt like a deliberate move in the narrative they were weaving together. As they reached the doorway of her main bedroom, Y/N turned to Joshua, her gaze a reflection of the desires that had long been confined to the pages of her books. With a silent invitation, she opened the door, revealing a space that mirrored the intimacy and allure of the stories she crafted. They found themselves on the threshold of a new chapter. The bed, adorned with soft sheets and plush pillows, beckoned them into a realm where the boundaries between author and reader, fantasy and reality, continued to blur.
As they entered the room, the door closed behind them, sealing the narrative of Y/N and Joshua in the privacy of her creatively curated sanctuary. The story that had unfolded from the depths of Y/N's imagination now transitioned into a shared experience, a continuation of the tantalizing saga that had brought them to this moment of connection and desire. Y/N intertwined her fingers in Joshua's brown locks, as he caressed their tongues together.
Joshua, now acutely aware that his hot co-worker was none other than his favorite writer, felt a surge of heat coursing through him, the realization that Y/N, the woman he had worked alongside in the office, was the mastermind behind the steamy tales that had fueled his fantasies, intensified the charged atmosphere. The lines between admiration and desire, professional and personal, blurred into a landscape where the boundaries were defined by the shared heartbeat of two individuals drawn together by the allure of the unknown.
He laid her back on the wall, pressing your bodies together, she could feel his cock hard against her crotch while her hands ruined trough his layers of clothes, pulling your sweater in a single upward movement, he helps her, removing his shirt looking at her teasingly. She starts so open every single button from her transparent shirt, painfully slow. Joshua with the greatest delicacy tried to unbutton them quickly.
“Calm down Joshua I won’t run away from you…” She smiles, kissing his neck, and then licking a stripe with her hot tongue, feeling his skin shiver. “I should take time with my favourite reader, shouldn’t I?” He moans pressing his forehead on her shoulder, while he removes her belt of her silk pants. “You know what? I loved to see your name on my e-mails, giving me a whole feedback about my books… Or when you gone to the book events to get a single autograph, and to try to find out who wrote the dirty words you loved so much. You couldn't imagine that I would reveal myself like this, could you?”
At this point, their clothes were lying on the bedroom floor, allowing Joshua to play with the thin fabric of her lace lingerie, moving their bodies to her bed. He climbed on top of her, kissing her neck, and played with his teeth, with the thin gold chain that adorned her neck. He rubs his clothed dick, on her covered pussy, eliciting groans from both of them. “Who would have thought that you, all quiet in your corner, would write all these bold books? I would never imagine that you had this naughty mind” He rubs again, making her lips open with a silent sound.
"Since you've got that wild imagination of yours... If I were one of your characters, what would you do with me here, and now, hm?” Caught off guard by Joshua's unexpected question, she closes her eyes, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. As she imagined the scenario he proposed, a subtle bite on her lip betrayed the depth of her thoughts. When she opened her eyes, a seductive look met Joshua's gaze, and she responded to him by looking him in the eyes. "I'd tie you to this bed, and ride your cock until you begged for more. Or I'd let you fuck me on the balcony, showing all my neighbors how well you fuck your favorite author…”
She says with so much naturalness, that now it took Joshua by surprise — he even tries to act natural, but his flushed cheeks give him away how aroused he was — she can notice that he is now sinking his fingers into the flesh of her body “You are so surprising, what do I do with you?" he sulks clicking his tongue.
Y/N hugs her legs around Joshua's waist and grabs his neck, flipping him, so she can sit on his lap “You know what? You'd rock as a character in my next book, but before that, I wanna get a feel of you." Joshua's eyes shine with the answer given to him, but she didn't give him time to think, she was already in between his legs lowering the waistband of his black boxers, his dick jumps, and lays on his stomach. She holds his cock, licking the base, while the angry tip asked for attention. Her finger press his slit, spreading the precum that shone with the room's lighting. His body trembling with the teasing.
Joshua blinked, and when he saw it, his dick was already inside of her mouth, she bob her head on his dick, and he cover his face with both of his hands whimpering in pleasure, he laughs, brushing his hair back with his hands “Oh my God, you’re doing so good for me baby… Ah” he looks at her, holding her hair to go deeper, and she goes, even deeper than he expected, his eyes widen and he arch his back “fuck I’ll cum” he cries, looking at you almost closing his eyes.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah!”
“No you won’t!” She drop his dick on his stomach again.
Joshua gets up, looking at her with pleasing eyes “Why?” “I don’t think you are my loyal reader. Never let them cum so easy, you know that, don’t you?” “Yes, you right.” He gets up again, walking through her room and opening the curtains of her window, revealing, the lights from the city in the night. He turns off all of the lighting, and put a chair in front of the big and vertical window, while she watches him curiously. With strong arms around her, he gets her out of bed, placing her sat on the chair. “What are you doing?” he rips her lingerie from her body, and she open her mouth “Shh! Quiet”
She opens her legs for him, giving at him a full view from her pussy, dripping already. The lighting was very low, — so people couldn’t see them properly from their windows, or from the street — but she still could see the shameless white smile on his face, before licking a teasing strip on her pussy looking at her eyes. Y/N curl her toes at the sight, the wet and hot tongue, making a mess on her pussy “Fuck, you look so good like this…” he says, and her hand holds his hair, pushing him to eat her out again, he smiles and groan sending vibrations to her clit.
Joshua holds her legs open, feeling her tights tremble on his hands, while her pornographyc moans fulfilled the room, she was on the edge for the second time, but Joshua wouldn’t let her cum yet. “Why you’re so mean?! I’ll ride you until you cry! Ah!” she threatened angrily at Joshua's long teasing.
He stops and look at her, pushing two fingers inside of her, making her eyes roll at the back of her head “Yeah? And what else are you going to do? Will you be able to do it?” he scoffs looking at her. She’s a trembling mess, and your pussy was already dripping on the chair.
“I-I will-“ She screams when he curls his fingers inside of her, feeling her eyes kick out the tears from the sides of her eyes.
“Aw babe can’t even speak…” he sulks at her moving his fingers fast enough so she can feel the knot on her stomach again, and he can feel her pussy tighten around his fingers, so he stops again, licking his fingers.
She open her eyes, and give him an angry glare, she wasn’t kidding anymore. So she gets up, holding his arm, guiding him to sit on the chair angrily. He looks at her a little anxious “So quiet, out of nowhere? Hm?” She laughs at him.
Y/N holds the base of his dick firmly making him jump, Joshua could only feel her tight, wet and warm walls hugging his dick, before his vision gets white. She slammed her hips on him, and the boy moan loud throwing his head back. Her hand hold his jaw firmly, so he looks at her. He needs to hold the urge to roll his eyes, so he can keep the eye contact with her with furrowed eyebrows. Y/N starts to roll her hips at him, masturbating her clit, so he can fells her pussy tightening even more. Shivers are sent to Joshua’s body. “So good, so good, so good…”
Joshua takes her hand out of herself, and starts to rub her clit fast, slapping her on the ass. She groans, pulling his hair, and rolling her hips furiously, he looks at her like he was asking for mercy, both of them couldn’t stop their moans to leave their mouths. “Please don’t stop, please don’t stop babe, I’m al-most t-there, I swear! Please! Please?” He asks and her mouth opens in an “O” and he nods at her as a stimulation to cum, then she screams his name, creaming his cock, riding her orgasm, looking at him, to see if he was near because her legs wouldn't last long. He kisses her messy, moaning, and he tries to kiss her until his moans stop him, the orgasm washed over him rolling his eyes, moaning loud enough that his ears rings after.
She lays on his shoulder, and he hold her waist tight to him. Y/N looks at him with a tired smile “We should get some sleep, we have to wake up early tomorrow…”
[…]
As Joshua and Y/N strolled into the office, a shared secret lingering between them, the evidence of their night together evident in the shared smiles that adorned their faces. The knowledge of Y/N's true identity only fueled Joshua's excitement, and he couldn't help but wear a constant grin as he replayed the events of the previous night in his mind.
Seungkwan, the unsuspecting colleague, announced with enthusiasm, "Hey, did you hear? The mysterious author wants to drop a new smut next month!" Joshua's eyes met Y/N's, and she responded with a playful wink, a silent acknowledgment of their intimate connection.
The office banter continued, but in that moment, amidst the hum of activity, Joshua and Y/N shared a secret that transcended the ordinary workday. The thrill of their clandestine affair and the anticipation of the upcoming literary release painted the day with an aura of shared mischief and unspoken desires.
#seventeen headcanons#seventeen imagines#seventeen reactions#seventeen smut#seventeen x reader#svt smut#svt imagines#joshua hong#joshua smut#joshua hong smut#joshua fluff#joshua hong fluff#hong jisoo#hong jisoo fluff#hong jisoo smut#joshua x reader#joshua hong x reader#joshua hong x you#hong jisoo x reader#seventeen scenarios#seventeen fluff#seventeen#hoshifighting writes
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what is your problem with tiktok or booktok and colleen hoover lmao its not that bad surely
the fact that it actively promotes overconsumerism, the way it sells books to you by just playing into already heavily milked out tropes with very specific character niches that are seen in every book nowadays and how the reading is just seen as something aesthetic or a part of the "it girl routine" maybe? if those are enough reasons for you?
does the fact that these books are the first things you see when you walk into a bookstore not bother you? when you ask someone for a book recommendation they'll follow it up with "its a romance slow burn enemies to lovers". it's always about the aesthetic of the book, how many lines can you take out of context and post as a compilation of your super cute romantic annotations page on instagram. no analyzing the book, no theories, no symbolism or meaningfulness at all. how people stand reading those kind of books and still feel any kind of emotions over these flat as hell books with no world or character building is genuinely baffling to me
no one seems to know about actual literature anymore, which not to sound like a boomer but i think its definitely true. there's always been trend cycles, i agree such as the harry potter craze from the 1990s to the 2000s and the dystopia hunger games/maze runner/divergent blast in the early 2010s but tiktok has just.. shortened these cycles so much. as a result, people like our darling colleen hoover whose written around 46 books since 2015 (according to google) try come up with as much fresh content as they can as quickly as possible for the readers (see overconsumption). the fact that this lady outsold the bible is not outstanding to me, its fucking concerning.
and after all that, the result is badly written books with characters who're about as dimensional as a piece of paper, overuse of tropes, read like they've been written by a toddler, toxic-ass relationships being romanticised, very unnecessary sex scenes and countless other things. seriously if i wanted to read about the kind of stories hoover tells i would just open a wattpad account.
not clowning on those who made the choice to read it. i'm trying to highlight some of the flaws i find in authors like colleen hoover, sjm, ali hazelwood, casey mcquinston. some of them might be good, i wouldn't know because i actively try and avoid them at all costs. also i am BEGGING u all who will have an objection to this post to reach out of your comfort zone and read something different like non-fiction or fantasy or one of the classics for once if you only read booktok like seriously it might be hard but just do it for the love of god!! if you're annoying on this i will block you by the way i don't care
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You from the eyes of your future lover / future spouse.
How would your future spouse describe you? How would they see you?
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
Piles : 1~2~3
For my females audience so I'll be using she/her pronounce in this post.
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＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
Pile 1
She's the reason for my happiness. She is perfect in every sense. She fills my heart with so much emotions that it scares me sometimes. I can't imagine ever hurting her. I love her so much that it hurts sometimes. God if there's an afterlife please keep us together forever. I beg you. She's just so perfect and spontaneous. There's nothing she can't do. She makes the impossible become possible. She's magical. Well sometimes she's energetic and joyful and other times her mind seems to be all over the place. I love it she gets annoyed haha. She's a just to cute . I love how talented she is. She is intelligent but she's stupid. She's stupid because she doesn't see her beauty and her perfection. I never thought I would feel these emotions. She makes me feels mushy. Just the thought of her bring smile to my face. She's the light of my life. Without her my life would be in darkness. I wanna paint my world the the color of her skin. I wanna tattoo her smile on my body. Her voice is the only thing I wanna hear. Her laughter is my favorite melody. I would cherish it forever. God I love her so much it's driving me crazy.
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
Pile 2
Who's she? Well she's my destiny. She is my begining and she is my end. She makes me feel like a child again. She's my other better half. These gushy-mushy feelings are all because of her. She is the reason I became a better person. She is the person I have been waiting for the my whole life. There's nothing more I want than to have a family with her. Just me, her and our pets. I imagine living with her and dying with her. I even want to be next to her in the casket. I love her to death. God knows I have never cared about the future but with her , I just feel as if I need to plan everything. I'm willing to go wherever she takes me to even if it's my death. With her I never feel scared or anxious. She brings me peace. I feel as if I can finally breathe after being suffocated my whole life. She's my morning coffee . she's my late night snack. she's like a cold breeze on a hot summer day. She's my sun, she's my moon and she's my star. She's everything. I wish she could see herself from my eyes, to see just how beautiful and mesmerizing she is. I want to express how much she means to me but I don't think I have right words for it. I want to make her my queen.
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
Pile 3
She's crazy but she's mine. She's childish, she's goofy, she's a like a small kitten. Sometimes I just want to pull her cheeks so hard but I know she'll bite me. Oh how much I love her but she's stupid. She's not stupid stupid but she's hilariously stupid. She makes me laugh till I have tears in my eyes. She's like my personal comedian. She's my life long best friend. I am sure we'll never get old together. We will forever be high school sweethearts. She makes me feel alive. She makes my world light up. I love it when she argues with me. I love it when she gets annoyed with my pranks. Her face is so expressive that I can't help but laugh at her expressions. Oh how she's always in her own little world, how she's zones out when she wakes up. How she's ties her hair in a messy bun. How she runs like a child around the house. How she thinks she lives in her own fantasy world. How she unknowingly pouts while eating. How her eyebrows go up when she's surprised. I love her crazy ideas. She's a mystery that i wanna solve. I want to know where she goes when she zones out. I want her to take me with her where she goes , in her world. Where it's just us and no one else.
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
Hope you like it! And leave a note to show support ♡ Have a great day ahead !
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
#tarot reading#tarot cards#free readings#free tarot#pick a card#pick a pile#pick a picture#tarotblr#pac tarot#pick an image#pick a photo#tarottribe#tarot witch#tarotcommunity#tarot of the month#tarot of the divine#tarot readers of tumblr#tarot divination#psychic readings#intuitive readings#divination#astrology and tarot#tarot and astrology#tarot of tumblr#tarot#pac reading#tarot pac#tarot pick a card#pick a card tarot#tarot pick a pile
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Okay so-- i was reading some sagau posts and came across this one where the reader was an army vet and my brain just Did Its Thing--
So now I'm here to inflict this on to you--
Would guns be considered as catalysts. And would they only do Phys Damage.
Me reading this ask:
😶 😐 🤨 🧐 🧐 😰 🥲 😭😭😭 💀
STOP YOU'VE INFLICTED ME WITH PSYCHOLOGICAL DMG FROM THIS ASK 😭
(Also srry took so long to respond, when i didnt realize how short this was/was just sitting over here 😓)
^ For the sake of gun imagery being a lot/maybe staff might hate me for it,
we'll put this gay shit instead (i almost mispelled to "gay shot" lmao)
☆
Sun: Army Veteran Reader, Gender neutral Reader (you/they/them)
Orbit: SHORT Headcanons
Stars: everybody bc i think itd be funny
Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: gun stuff, mild violence, mild cursing & Trigger Warnings: Gun fun everywhere
THIS ASK HAS ME GIGGLING TO MYSELF LIKE A MANIAC
You're out here having a whole gun they let you take for off-base
And u ofc have a license so u can conceal carry
(idk how non-american gun laws work, but tbh ours are so fucked idk how they work here either, just that an army guy i knew once could have his gun when he got back home)
And ofc ur just paranoid enough (more like it just makes u feel safe)
That when u get yoinked into a portal to a silly little brightly colored gacha game fantasy world, the gun comes with 💀
Id like to add in my silly little "ur in a video game, so video game rules" AU version of genshin so:
The only other gun (ish) wielder (Mika) has unlimited bolts
Sooo I'd think your gun would be the same jfc lol
NO BC YOUD SCARE THE ACTUAL SHIT OUT OF EVERYONE IN UR VICINITY IN A BATTLE
BC GUNSHOTS ARE A DIFFERENT TYPE OF LOUD
When u first stumble into abyss monsters/hostile creatures of the realm, u nearly scare off a Lawlachurl bc every shot's like thunder to these bitches😭
So not only the monsters but the vision holders think u fucking summoned lightning
OMG THE BULLETS ARE SO FAST THEYD PROBABLY NOT SEE IT
ESP BC DISTRACTED BY GUNSHOT LOUDNESS
SO U AIM THIS LITTLE BLACK CROSSBOW (???) AND THINGS JUST DIE (OR GET RIDDLED WITH HOLES) WITH NO CLEAR ARROW STICKING OUT
STOPP- you're becoming a witchy god or smth to all of Teyvat bc it just looks like hella high level magic atp to them LMAOOO
Rumors of you get out of hand and say u just point or snap ur fingers and things get wounded/just die on the spot 💀
Oh another difference between Teyvatians seeing ur gun vs. crossbow (what they know)
Is that guns are wayyyy more destructive
Like an arrow would get shot but it'd bounce off of things like rock or wood or metal, maybe dent a little depending on how close
But a bullet goes thru that shit so easy, and leaves a whole little explosion behind, once again depending on range
(I once saw a Mythbusters episode? of them proving bullets would definitely go thru car doors, like movies lied to u, this is why drive-bys acc work like for gangs)
Lmao, the image of you in like full armor with a Teyvat made automatic gun after showing it to blacksmiths
Makes u just more convincing as a god, esp bc military training
(Ppl like Gorou and Kokomi begging for military tactics/training ur world has done)
...
....Ok.
I'll address it.
But only so u dont think im stupid later.
Yes, the Fatui have guns.
No, this not the same as having a glock LMAO
End of story.
(Also, urs runs on bullets, whereas the Fatui rely on magic/delusions to power theirs, plus they dont seem as fast or destructive as urs, more "explosions aimed at you" than real bullets)
Which,,, u leave the managing of ppl copying ur gun to ppl like the Qixing or smth, but make sure to give them advice on good gun laws if teyvat accidentally revolutionizes bc of ur advanced gun that anybody can wield (non-vision users)
Thats the best ive got abt that
Oh, also enjoy being praised as a War god now.
:)
☆
... dammit i had smth i was gonna tell u guys-
Uh what tf was it, it was important
OH
Next post is the Eldritch God Oneshot! Look out for it :) !!
☆
Safe Travels Kid,
💀♒️
♡the beloveds♡
@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks
If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"
(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")
#lookie i made my first border image guys!! 🥺#a little rough but eh#i used a stock image and then added that little moon#also this gun shit takes me out i could write just a whole crack oneshot abt ending up in teyvat with a gun lmao#genshin sagau#genshin impact#sagau#genshin isekai#genshin imagines#my asks#gender neutral reader#genshin impact sagau#self aware genshin#✨️forgot all my tags again✨️#uh#genshin harem#i mean what#genshin x reader
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day twenty-one: virginity kink with neil lewis
pairing: Neil Lewis x f!reader
word count: 933
warnings: inexperienced reader, kinda dom!Neil, use of “baby”, breeding kink, mention of pregnancy, they’re best friends baby!
a/n: I’m trying to play catch up, but kinktober will go into November! Anyways, I love Neil so much.
kinktober masterlist
Neil was your best friend in the whole entire world. You’d gotten close over the years, making you inseparable. When he first opened his video store you were the one who helped him. You’d been through so much together, it was only natural you were close.
He made you smile more than you’d like to admit and your crush on him grew as the years went on. Sometimes when you hung out the conversation turned to one about relationships, more specifically how you haven’t been in one in years.
He was always urging you to put yourself out there. Find someone and take the lead, ask them out on a date, see what happens. This was the first time you divulged a tidbit of information about your sex life.
“What do you mean you’ve never had sex?” Neil’s reaction was almost cartoonish, dropping his jaw in disbelief.
“It’s exactly what I mean. I mean I’ve never had sex.”
“That’s not true. It can’t be. You’re-“
“I’m what?”, you questioned.
“You’re too pretty to have never been fucked before,” he said matter a factly as if this information was common knowledge between the two of you.
He called me pretty, you thought. He’d never mentioned you and pretty in the same sentence. You wondered if he had meant what he said. You realized you had been silent for longer than you should have been, and all you could say was “Oh.”
“You really have never…”
“I already said no, Neil. I haven’t.” You were starting to feel a little ashamed. You couldn’t read his reaction until his voice got a little lower. “I’m kinda into that.”
“You are?” You didn’t even know that was possible. “Yeah I mean,” he got closer to you as he spoke, “if you’d let me I’d love to take your virginity.” You blinked, thinking each time you opened your eyes Neil would be gone and this would all be a dream.
But, it was very real and Neil was waiting for your response. He grabbed your face and pulled you in for a light kiss to bring you out of your stupor. Once you realized what was happening, you kissed him back and grabbed his forearm. His hand found his way to yours and he grabbed it to lead you to the bedroom. “Come on. I have to teach you a couple things.”
You got on the bed and Neil started to strip, you did the same until you were both naked. He laid back on the bed and, feeling bold, you straddled him. “Wow, baby, getting ambitious.” He flipped you over so that he was on top, “Not today though.” He kissed you hungrily, “Pretty little virgin like you has to be ruined first. Isn’t that right?” He tilted his head, smirking at you. You nodded and looked down at his already hard cock. You reached down to wrap your hand around him and he stifled a moan. He hardened further in your hand, dripping precum. “God, such a pretty girl. I can’t wait to take your virginity. Who knew my biggest fantasy was right in front of me this whole time.” His enthusiasm made you wet. “Neil, please fuck me.”
He smirked, “Oh and she begs too.” He lined himself up and pushed his tip inside you. You felt a brief sting that dissolved into pleasure. “Neil, more,” you moaned. He thrust into you, savoring the moment. He took pride in the fact that he was the one to take something from you. He was the first man to be inside you. He was the first one to make you feel this way.
Once he started moving, your moans turned into cries. “I didn’t think you’d be so loud.” You were because he started out with a pace that would rival a car going 0 to 60 in 3 seconds. He meant it when he said he was going to ruin you. You grabbed at his shoulders and pulled him down, wanting him to be as close to you as possible. You could only imagine the image of him on top of you, kissing your neck, licking and sucking in all the right places.
He whispered in your ear, “Ready to cum on my cock for the first time?’
“Yes, Neil!”, you pleaded, “I need it, please.”
He smirked, “Beg again. I need to hear you beg, baby.” You were too far gone to protest.
“Neil please make me cum. Please I need it so bad. Cum inside me.”
He was almost patronizing. “Who knew you’d be so dirty your first time? What, are you trying to get pregnant on the first try? You want me to make you mine?” His words made you moan, your face got hot. It was not something you had previously explored, but it felt right with Neil. You wanted to fill him coat the inside of you with his cum, mark you as his. “Yes!” You yelped when your orgasm happened. This was the first time you’d ever felt this amount of pleasure. You rarely touched yourself, and when you did it was never for longer than a minute. Neil’s orgasm closely followed after feeling you squeeze around him involuntarily. He filled you with his cum, unafraid of the consequences.
He pulled out of you, “Come here,” he gestured. You laid on top of him and he wrapped his arms around you. “Do you really want me to be yours?”, you asked tentatively
“More than anything.” You felt him start to harden again and you smirked, “Ready for round two already?”
Taglist:
@devotedlyshadowytheorist, @dxnger-dxys, @tommyshelbywhore, @quinnlilias,@madnessandobsession, @mvpr-moon, @nela-cutie, @faebirdie, @charmed-asylum, @anasanthology, @ilikefictionalmen, @akanne-aka, @no-fooking-fighting,@queenofstresss, @flwrs4aust, @mrkdvidal1989, @00hsv, @laylasbunbunny
(If something is up with your tag or you would like to be added, let me know!)
#annie writes#kinktober ‘23#neil lewis x f!reader#neil lewis smut#neil lewis x reader#neil lewis x you#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy fic#cillian murphy smut#cillian x reader#cillian murphy
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Depth of Devotion
First post! This is just a little fantasy I've decided to put down to share with yall about our favorite Austrian. Feedback is appreciated and if you have any suggestions for anymore I'd love to hear them! Be gentle with me I will cry.
Part of a longer story? 🤔
Minors DO NOT INTERACT
Mention of she/her pronouns
By this time König knew your scent by heart. He could pick it out from a crowd like a bloodhound and after your unfortunate mishap with your purchases the other day he now finally knew what lotion you used, as the contents of your ripped grocery bag sent the bottle of lotion rolling to his front door on the floor of the apartment building you shared. Therefore it was only right that he went out and purchased the same kind that day. König closed the door of his apartment and leaned against it. Back shoved against the cheap wood. “God,” he thought “I feel like a teenager again.” Dropping the shopping bag he fumbled with his pants, desperate to set his painful erection free from its confines. König tugs the hem of his t shirt up and places it between his teeth mainly to get it out of his way and to stiffle him moans since the walls were thin. As his cock sprung from his boxers he reached his hand down into the shopping bag and fished out his new purchase. Pumping some of the lotion into his hand he was immediately hit with that oh so familiar smell, making his painfully hard cock twitch with arousal. Closing his eyes as the smell of you filled the air around him, he began to stroke his cock, smearing the lotion all over it. Mixing you and him together. He imagined you were in the room with him doing his best to imagine it was your hand and not his own. He shivers at the thought and his breath comes out shakily through his nose. One could say he was depraved, sick for jacking off with the same lotion you used but at this point he needed something, anything to keep him from taking you every time he saw you. He was desperate for you, feral for you, but he was not a creep he would wait for you to come to him. To tell him that you needed him and all that he could give you. As König stroked himself he imagined it was you sliding up and down on him. Your wet pussy gripping him, reciprocating his desperation for release. Swallowing him physically and emotionally. He imagined your tits bouncing with every slam of your hips glistening with sweat and his spit. He imagined what your moans would sound like. God, he hoped you were loud so all the neighbors would know not to come near you for you were his. Would you say his name? Tell him how good he felt inside of you? Beg him to cum inside you? As all these thoughts coursed through his mind, his breath quickened, his moans getting harder to choke back. He could feel the sweat beading at his temples as he worked himself. “Show me how you play with it, show me.” He panted, he was close. The fire in his belly burning brighter. Grunting König imagined you picking up your pace chasing your own orgasm. He works himself closer and closer to the edge. Pumping his hips into the twisting of his hand “That's a good girl, that's a good fucking girl.” saying the last part through gritted teeth he feels his cock twitch and throb as he cums. The pleasure numbing his mind to anything else that could have been happening at that moment. Yes. This is what he needed, for now. Though it would only hold him over for so long. He slowly opens his eyes to sees the thick ropes of cum on the floor of his apartment. What a waste he thinks. Wishing it was buried deep within your pussy. Leaking out from your abused hole only for him to scoop it up with his fingers and shove it back inside you. Marking you as his. The most intimate of tasks. He cleans himself and his mess, not bothering to wash the smell of you off him. To him this is how he shows the world he belongs to you even if you don't know the depth of his devotion, yet.
#König#könig cod#König x y#könig call of duty#Konig#konig x reader#konig cod#konig call of duty#konig smut#König sm#könig smut#könig fanfiction#könig mw2#konig x you#konig mw2
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𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒.
All of these sentences are mostly taking by my own mind and i'm not joking. It was hard finding material quotes regarding tournaments in historical or fantasy setting. Some are from shows or media but eighty percent is all from my own mind, please give credit if use these. Change pronouns, names, locations as you see fit. All of these involve the medieval event of a tournament and what happens around them.
I fear I am already bending far too many rules just by taking you, my young princess.
Show me your hands, you will have blisters soon.
Lady Eglantine doesn’t believe in love, only lust.
In the world of competition, only the strongest shall prevail.
A true champion is not defined by their victories, but by the obstacles they've overcome.
Victory is sweetest when it's earned through sweat, hard work, and determination.
Will you not participate in the tourney, my lord?
May I have the honor of wearing your favor today, my lady?
Good luck to you, my Prince.
The tournament is not just a test of skill, but a test of character as well.
Is it always this bloody? Will those poor men die? Someone must see them.
I want him to wear my favor. Only him.
If he wins, the knight has the right to name his Queen of Love and Beauty. And at the feast, they shall dance.
Be careful. A tourney is a grand place for courtly love, but also, for blood to rise and affairs to appear.
Call me what you like, say I'm without honor, I don't care. I'm not getting on any more horses to whack you people with a stick.
Kings may be chosen by God, but they still make the mistakes of men.
When even those who rule can sink this low, it is not possible to change anything.
It's my lucky charm, be sure to bring it back to me.
My favorite blue ribbon. Take it.
It will bring you good fortune and you will return from joust unharmed.
I was hoping to ask for the Princess's favor.
How about a kiss, for luck?
Courtly love was the culture around the performance of love at court.
And now, rather than admit these feelings, you're dancing around one another with this mind-numbing and frankly boorish mating ritual.
The knights take on the duties of shadows with pride.
Whoever wins the tournament, shall become the prince/princess’ new betrothed.
You want to marry my daughter? Prove yourself worthy.
Petyr survived only because I begged Brandon not to kill him.
When Petyr heard of my engagement, he challenged Brandon to a duel.
You do qualify to marry my daughter.
What matters most is who she will give her favor to.
Her face is one that can create dynasties or crumble empires.
I was hoping for a word before you rode on the tourney, my Prince.
My brother is the one competing against you, please be gentle with him.
The games are done for the day, please, feast and drink as you wish.
You have been staring all day, my lord. I was beginning to wonder if I had something in my face.
Any damsel that's in distress - she'll be out of that dress when she meets Jim West.
Great men do not seek power... they have power thrust upon them.
My daughter seems. . .infatuated with you. I have yet to see why.
The princess is naive and thinks any man who is kind means well. A tournament will only show her the reality of life.
You honor the arena with your combat. May your swords and shield preserve the peace.
In the songs all knights are gallant, all maids are beautiful, and the sun is always shining.
I will be brave for Princess Pea.
As a squire, your first duty is to your knight’s armor. Your knight’s armor is more important than your own life.
You will be knighted and you will have earned your knighthood.
You are hurt. At least let me tend to your wound.
The men laugh and fight and the ladies search for husbands.
Nothing like a good tournament to find a husband, or a companion for the night.
Rumors are always spread with ease in these.
Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life?
You say I'll never get your blessing till the day I die.
We're married now, but we still haven't told your dad. This is the right time.
Are you promised to someone?
My sister's getting married. It's a love match. A rare thing. I’m not so lucky. My husband is to be chosen by who can hold a sword the longer.
Why can’t women participate in the games?
There are games for the ladies, Your Grace. But they are less. . .gruesome. And of course, the dancing.
Princes and Princess all over the realm and across the sea are coming for this event. You must shine brighter.
Let me help you with your armor. It appears loose.
As I promised, I return your favor to you, my lady.
The Prince never loses a joust. He will crown his queen and then all will be well.
I do not understand the appeal of this.
I spend days making these favors, let me stay a little longer.
My lady, I do not need your favor to win, but perhaps, a kiss of good faith.
I do not care who wins these games, your hand is already arranged for another.
Men are scoundrel, specially when blood runs hot after a good battle, stray away from them.
These games are done in honor of the king’s heir.
The lord’s daughter is said to have bloomed, and the man chooses to announce it like this.
A tournament is for men to boost their strength, fathers sell their daughters like mares and for affairs to happen.
I saw you on the stands today, my lord. But you did not participate on the games.
My brother wishes to dance with you, my lady. He is all too shy to ask himself.
You were injured. Have you allowed someone to heal them or are you too stubborn to let them?
Princess, you must not stray too far away.
Mother is too drunk and annoyed to care, she won’t mind.
#roleplay memes#sentence meme#( cali meme. )#rp memes#rp prompt#rp musings#roleplay prompt#medieval meme#tournament meme#tourney meme
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Ok so hear me out:
Yknow that one tiny crop top hannie wore which showed off the entirety of his slutty jaist and cute lil toned belly in a lalalala stage?
What is reader sees all the horny stays on twt describing just what filthy things they want to do to him? What if she shows them to lino too? What is they both get so painfully turned on and deliciously jealous by it that they decide to teach our quokka a lesson? How, you may ask? By fucking him absolutely brainless and marking every single bit of his gorgeous body, especially his waist and stomach (and lower ofc)
And, the lil cherry on top of the poly!minsung sundae, what if reader makes hanni take a picture to post on his bubble while she's pounding him with her big ass strap, and lino playing with his pretty nipples?
It'll be their dirty secret, they do have quite a possessive streak (poor hannie can't wear crops for a long time after that)
ohoho you dirty anon, i love your brain so much🤭👀
Me personally, if i was the girlfriend, i'll be proud of the chaos he unleashed and join the Stays's excitement, but the idea of marking him and reducing him to a pile of tears and begs sounds far too tempting.
You bet they won't leave a single trace of his skin clean. If there's not cum in it, there's a bruise, if not a bruise, a hickey, and the list goes on. They want to imprint themselves in Hannie's body, make an statement to the world that this beautiful angel is theirs and only theirs. And sweet boy is enjoying it so much, getting punished by both of his loves is his utmost fantasy. Having their greedy hands over him, playing with him, scratching him, slapping him, it makes his cock so hard it hurts. It hurts deliciously.
They can't help it, he looked so damn good and irresistible in that top, and he knew what he was doing. He wanted to push the buttons, delight in their hungry stares on him. He loved it. It thrilled him to no end. Meanwhile, Lino is too busy counting the time until the shooting ends to drag him to the nearest empty room and teach him a lesson. When the door is closed and there's only the two of them, it's on. The only thing preventing him from ripping the damn top off it's knowing that their sweet girl would want to see it first, so he just pulls it up and rips off the jeans instead, forces him on one of the make up tables and slams unto him with a fast pace, not even prepping him. He covers Jisung's mouth with his hand to mute his moans, while the others grips his waist. Minho bites his neck roughly and sucks on it until the familiar purple-redish bruise starts to appear. His handprints are all over Jisung's butt cheeks, still bouncing against his cock helpessly. Minho has to close his eyes and groan lowly when his orgasm hits, thousands of white spots filling his vision. He ruts into Jisung's hips to push his cum deeper, and then drops him like an used toy...without making cum.
"What's the matter, slut? You wanted to cum? Too bad you don't fucking deserve it. We'll see when we get home, wonder what Mommy has to say about this"
Once they arrive, it's obvious "Mommy" isn't happy about it. Not in the slighest. She spent the entire morning seeing Stay's feral reactions to that top, and her blood boils at the idea of so many people seeing and wanting what belongs to her. She sees Jisung's glossed eyes, his trembling lips, the bruises in his pretty skin. "Mommy, please, help me. It hurts so much. Daddy left me hanging li-"
She grabs his jaw and seethes on his lips.
"You should be grateful he actually put his dick inside you, you fucking whore. You really think you deserve anything after that stunt you pulled, letting the entire world see you like this?"
He stutters, eyes wide in fear and excitement. God, he loves this.
"B-but, I didn't want to! It was my job, the stylists said-" Minho scoffs.
"Bullshit, they told me you insisted on wearing that. Said you wanted to cause an impression on our fans.."
A dark, tense silence fills the room.
"So, not only you're showing off without our permission, but you have the nerve to lie to me?" she growls.
His eyes start to get teary again. "Mommy, I.."
Minho places a firm hand on her shoulder.
"It's okay, love, it's not his fault. I think we might neglected him a bit, our poor baby. You know how much he hates not being the centre of attention all the time"
"Is that it, baby? Aw, i'm so sorry. Don't worry then, we'll make up for it"
And they do. By the end of it, he's tied on the bed, completely naked except for the top. Blindfolded and Minho thrusting his hips brutally while folds him in half by his legs. His pretty thights covered in teeth marks and bruises, same with this abdomen and cute waist. Minho whispering dirty things in his ear as the boy cries out and tries to free himself from the handcuffs. He lost count how many times he has cum, but he can feel the excess of his cum (or your and minho, he doesn't know at this point) tainting his face and lower body. She's holding a vibrator against his dick, her free hand holding the phone and recording everything.
"C'mon, Sungie, smile at the camera. Wasn't this what you wanted? Leave an impression on Stays? I'm sure they'll love this one"
Minho lets out a breathy chuckle, panting and groaning.
"Too bad they won't ever get to see this"
Jisung is a mess. His cheeks wet with his tears and reminiscence of both of his lovers' cum, drooling with his tongue out and gasping.
Such a pretty picture for Stays.
Tags: @channieandhisgoonsquad @moonlightndaydreams @2chopsticks2eyes @skzms @hyunsvngs @noellllslut @hanjibug @hanjisunglover @queenmea604 @thightswideforhanin @roseykat @minsungisvreal
#I don't know what the fuck came over me#this was supposed to be a short reply#anyway hope you enjoy!💖#poly minsung#minsung smut#minsung x reader#anon asks#lee know smut#han jisung smut#han jisung x lee know#minsung
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idk in some imagination of mine i see ellie to just be sooo sweet and sooo loving to you but den destroys you and fucks you like an animals in heat fr
this is definitely farm ellie core……
18+ MDNI
farm ellie is definitely a physical labor partner she’s doing the hunting, farm work ect. ++ ELLIE ON A TRACTORRRR 😩 someone get her a cowboy hat
farm ellie loves it when you cook for her and likes to watch you cleannn shes manspread on the couch watching you scrub the floors with a smirk on her face and pink on her cheeks from seeing u bent overrrrr
farm ellie LOVES THE DOMESTIC ATMOSPHEREEE shes hugging you from behind, TONS of neck kisses and gives massages whenever you want oh my god she basically begs you to let her ease any tension you may (or may not) have
i think she would be so southern lipped. ‘ing’ words now sport a n’ sound at the end. “shootin’ , huntin’, workin’” BYE shes calling you “darlin” and “honey” just adorably wrapped up in the farm fantasy it sort of becomes her
but YEA she would definitely be a FREAK in the sheets tho. im talking REAL POSSESSIVE TYPEE TYPEE
farm ellie makes you touch yourself before fucking you and you HAVE to keep your eyes on her or she will deny you pls
personally i think she would be really into tying you up and just having her way with you. something about being domestic makes ellie OBSESSED with everything about you. ur basically her world. shes taking her timeeee, kissing you on all her favorite spots (and she would have SPECIFIC favorites because she knows your body like the back of her hand) if you squirmed too much shed tut at you and smack you lightly somewhere sensitive then bully you when the wet spot under your cunt would grow larger:(((
trust her hands are never leaving your neck babyyy she’s strapping you with a brown leather harness she made herself and is constantly slurring her words while she pounds into you whew…specifically in missionary tho bc she loves to see how wet you get for her and only her “my pussy.” she would say over and overrrr things like “you belong to me.” “no one can fuck you like me” , “i know this pussy the best because its. mine.” all whilst choking you to the point of seeing starsss 😌
farm ellie after care hits DIFFERENTTT i just know she gets pussy drunk like mf just starts praising you to the point where you get horny again and the cycle just repeats it selfffjskksks. “gonna mary you.” “how many kids do you want?ill give you em all” “so pretty…” “so soft~”
is it crazy to say farm ellie has wayyy to much time on her hands and would probably fuck you like crazy then like get inspired by all your beauty and write a poem or a song about it like IMMEDIATELY after you fuck……shes writing at the speed of light next to you butt ass naked. “baby…ellie…can you untie me first?……” LOL
#ellie the last of us#ellie williams#tlou2#the last of us#tlou#ellie x reader#ellie x you#lesbian#this post is about lesbians#wlw
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𝖗𝖊𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊 | 𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖔𝖗
summary: Namor can't help himself when he fantasizes about you and the night you spent together. The God is clouded by desire and needs, as you're the only one who's ignited a fire within him. If he can't have you, he'll create a world where it's possible, even if it's in his mind.
word count: 0.6k (a tease I know)
warnings: smut, masturbation, hand jobs, forbidden lust, risky behaviour, needy!Namor, mentions past p in v. namor pov.
18+ | minors do not interact
➴ feel free to send me more thots
I have lived decades upon decades and have never found a woman who kept me on my toes like her. I’ve grown lonely and impatient. Death has been a never-ending theme in these forsaken waters, outliving everyone I’ve ever loved. She showed me that there is more beyond the surface. I was plagued by the memories of last night and the sound of my name rolling off of her tongue. I found myself throbbing, needing to feel her lips pressed against my skin. I took my length in my hands, stroking myself in slow motions, imagining how it would feel to have her lips wrapped around it. I felt my erection grow hard and heavy at the thought.
With a frustrated sigh, I sat on my bed with my legs parted slightly, biting back a rising moan as the roughness of my palm drove me to sweet insanity. I couldn’t resist the visions of her sucking and gagging, kneeling before me. I was thrusting against my own touch with the same desperation from the night before. The rush of heat runs through me at the thought of taking her to my bed and making love to her endlessly. Fantasizing about the noises and faces that she might make sent me over the edge. I stiffened my grip around my dick, allowing myself to embrace the friction as I raised my hips to grind against my hand. I settled into a regular rhythm, imagining her tight walls instead of my palms.
“Oh fuck” I emitted a low moan as I wiped off the thin coat of wetness from the tip. I felt as if my body was on fire, and the calm waters didn’t subside my body’s desires.
Namor began breathing heavily, curling his toes as flashes of her face clouded his mind. His pace went faster, moving his hand up and down while slightly squeezing his shaft. Namor thought of her skin that glistened against the moonlight and stars. Her lips parted slightly as she pushed her hips against his. He imagined her soft pussy getting wet just for him. She’s as hot and slick around his dick as his fingers. Now, his head is genuinely spinning and shifting between reality and fantasy. He had no choice but to pause to catch his breath before beginning again.
The feathered God released a strangled gasp as he felt his abdomen tense and coil, begging for release. Trapping his erection in his hand, he continued grinding against himself in circular directions. Envisioning himself rubbing against her entrance. Arching his back and spreading his legs further, pleading for more until he could no longer hold it in. Finally, his hand was engulfed with wet heat, and he thrust his dick until he felt raw against his grasp.
A sense of clarity came over him after he reached orgasm. The illusions he created in his mind slowly slipped away, and the realization of what he had just done was all that was left. He would do it again and again without shame. Namor knew it would be a while until he could have her under him again. But that didn’t mean a God couldn’t dream.
#namor smut#namor#namor wakanda forever#wakanda forever#black panther#wakanda forever spoilers#mcu universe#mcu#mcu risingoftime#tenoch huerta namor#tenoch huerta#talocan#talokan#smut#shameless smut#marvel#namor gif#namor the sub mariner#namor x reader#namor pov
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re: that *chef kiss* PERFECT Franken-Drummer post and tumblr not being all over The Expanse, I know right?? it’s such an amazing show with so many delightful, complicated characters yet it’s so unfairly slept on! maybe because S1 takes awhile to get going and ppl give up? idk but it makes me sad that I have so few ppl to squeal about Drummer and Amos and Bobbie and Christjen and Ashford and Naomi (ad infinitum) with 😭🚀😭
WHY ARE PEOPLE NOT OBSESSED WITH THE EXPANSE HELLO!?!?! there's literally so much to love about it oh my god. you're right, it DOES take a second to get going but once it does!!!
for those of you who have not read or seen The Expanse series (I myself have yet to read the books), let me tell you why you'll love it:
political space drama with incredibly distinct cultures and phenomenal world building, if you're a details girlie (gn), you're gonna go nuts
the found family vibes!!??! are off!?!? the charts!?!? (minor spoilers for the first few episodes) four people are thrown into a situation in which they accidentally become the most important people/fugitives in the whole galaxy and most of them DO NOT trust each other, what could possible go wrong, and even better, what could possibly go RIGHT
Christjen Avasarala. you are not ready for her. most powerful mover-shaker on earth with the most incredible outfits you've ever seen, refined elegance with the filthiest mouth, plus she's got a classic "whatever those two have going on is so gay it veers into something else entirely" with her younger protective knight lady, Bobbie
Bobbie. the "not to be a lesbian but oh my god" post is made for her. we meet her in the show for the first time when she arm wrestles a robot and WINS. you will be begging for her to step on you with her mech suit
speaking of women I want to step on me Camina Drummer. angry revolutionary pirate queen of my heart. do you miss the unique agony of 2000/10s queerbaiting but want it to be not baiting somehow? this show does that, idk how else to explain it. the most agonizing sapphic pining you've ever seen but it's textual and also not painful because its gay. don't worry, Camina fucks, just not the girl she wants most (also spoilers, but this is not a bury your gays show don't worry)
Jim Holden is literally just Some Guy who becomes the special fantasy chosen one because he simply cannot stop Getting Involved. nosiest bitch in the universe, I love him.
imagine you're a girl who leaves your shitty ex and gets a normal industrial job on a spaceship, only to have a six foot, two hundred pound killer dressed as a mechanic imprint on you like a baby duck, and its unclear whether he wants to fuck you or call you a little sister but he definitely WILL kill for you and will do literally anything you say and then you both end up caught up in a weird galactic war by mistake and there's this other guy with a captain america level moral compass and he's cute and you're into him except your shitty ex is still out there with the biggest secret you have and meanwhile your best female friend is the coolest person you've ever met but you don't think you can be what she needs and you're holding your family together, you're holding the universe together and all you want is justice for your people but unfortunately you've gone and fallen in love with the accidental most important man in the galaxy. well, every day Naomi Nagata wakes up
Praxideke Meng. botanist of my heart. literally tames the rabid guard dog that no one else could. gentle and able to stay gentle because of said dog. which brings me to...
Amos Burton. I saved him for last because he is my guy. he is THAT guy. canonically aromantic pansexual king. are you into guard dog characters? do you find yourself drawn to the "sorry my love language is acts of service and all I'm good at is killing people" characters? amos burton is like seventeen tumblr posts come to life. previously mentioned enormous killer dressed as a mechanic, former heels wearing "I didn't always work in space" sex worker who is always rolling into brothels and being like "you guys unionized?", gives a shit about basically no one in the universe except his crew and every single child in the galaxy, accidental comedian because he cannot stop saying weird shit, not a nice or good person but a loyal one, and one who is always trying to relearn the empathy that was carved out of him as a young person. every time he goes homicidal to protect one of his chosen people (crew + any and every child), an angel gets its wings.
fin.
#answered#the expanse#most of this is cribbed from the essay I was texting a friend the other day lol#which is what inspired my expanse posting in the first place#bc I was like 'I HAVE to stop bothering this friend' lol#btw the canonically aromantic pansexual thing teeeechnically comes from the writers' twitter?#but like#you simply have to watch the show to know that about amos#he mostly doesn't sleep with people in the show and yes the few he does are women but the dude is queer#but anyway the authors have explicitly said he's aromantic and that his sexuality is 'yes'
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thinking about masochist!armin
warnings: anal (armin reciving), armins dick is mentioned alot, just masochist armin, no gendered reader or both gendered
not proofread
masochist!armin who originally was never a masochist but that all changed when he saw you
masochist!armin who's thoughts started getting more and more lewd when he saw you being aggressive
masochist!armin whos dick was throbbing one night when he thought about you slapping him senseless
masochist!armin who would bit his lip till the taste off blood entered his mouth while bucking his hips forward into his fist aggressively wanting more all because of that one thought
masochist!armin who jerked off to the thought of you grabbing his throat and calling him names, goose bumps shooting across his skin
masochist!armin who came to his afternoon classes and the sex gods must have heard his prayers when you turned in the crowded hallway while swinging your arms around to hit your friend and accidentally hit him in the dick
masochist!armin who probably came right then and there as he whimpered a little "its okay." trying not to moan infront of you
masochist!armin who beat his dick numb when he got back to his house, moan all types of things into his pillow.
masochist!armin who wishes you could slap his dick while calling him a little whore
masochist!armin who probably bust his pants when you told him to "stop being a little bitch" when his friends were teasing him
masochist!armin who only told his best friend eren about this "problem" he had and eren set up a whole secret plan
masochist!armin who went to a party eren begged him to go to because "it will be a party you'll never forget." not knowing what it meant
masochist!armin who gets roped into truth or dare after watching you dance around in the hot outfit you were wearing
masochist!armin who gets asked "whats something no one knows about you?" and admits he was a big masochist.
masochist!armin who plays never have i ever and surprised everyone when they asked if anyone has ever came to the sound of someones voice
masochist!armin who gets told by eren that theres a present for him upstairs as everyone started to leave the party.
masochist!armin who gasped when he saw you upstairs waiting for him with a smile, a sadistic one.
masochist!armin who looks at you as you tell him you've always had a crush on him and eren told you that he likes you.
masochist!armin whos dick imprint is well shown on his sweat pants as he tried to cover it but you stop him saying that your totally fine with him being like that around you.
masochist!armin who is shocked when you asked if you could help him with his fantasies.
masochist!armin who nods his head like a starving animal while you played with his sweats waistband
masochist!armin who jaw is slacked watching you suck gis dick like you were hungry, making him whimper and his eyes filled with tears
masochist!armin who lets the loudest moan possible escape from his lips as you squeezed his dick and pinched his nipple
masochist!armin who is filled with joy when you said he could be as loud as he wants because eren said it was okay
masochist!armin whos dick is getting jerked off while you bite him causing his head to spin like crazy
masochist!armin who IMMEDIATELY gets hard again when you pull out your dick (fake or not) and asked if he wants to be fucked
masochist!armin who is bent over taking your dick/strap like there was no tomorrow making him moan your name for the world to hear. "ngh-fuck me harder please, i cant take it anymore faster haah~"
masochist!armin who drools on the pillow moaning as you smack his ass watching it jiggle as your balls hit his with every thrust you made
masochist!armin who is so loud the whole house could here it and all of armins friends were secretly cheering him on thinking it was you moaning but only eren knew as they talked about how he was "fucking your shit up"
masochist!armin who now has a cock ring on as you gave him hickeys all over his body, he lets out the sluttiest moans whimper for more
masochist!armin who is now balls deep into you as he huffs and whimpers at the feeling of being inside of you while your praising him.
masochist!armin who bust a fat hot load into you making you moan at the feeling as he collapsed onto you while pushing his cum straight back into you
masochist!armin who is now friends with benefits with you (everyone thinks your dating)
we all love masochist!armin right?
#aot smut#attack on titan#aot x reader#armin arlert#armin x reader#armin smut#anime#men gets pegged#spider writes#smut#sub armin#submisive and breedable#armin aot
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『 ♡ 』 fem!reader thinking about her crush...
no pairings used, fill in the thoughts of your favorite man instead. 🔥
I keep these longings locked In lowercase inside a vault
there he was again, walking into the coffee shop without a care in the world. you knew his order by heart - he doesn't even have to tell you before approaching the register.
"thanks doll," he says with a wink, making sure his fingertips brush over your hand as you hand him his coffee. "see ya tomorrow."
infatuation floods into your cheeks while you smile, painting them with a pretty rose flush. your co-workers don't notice when you tighten your legs, hugging your thighs together at an attempt to keep yourself from shaking in anticipation.
the next four hours are a brutal test of strength.
Someone told me there's no such thing as bad thoughts, only your actions talk
your shoes are barely off when you enter your apartment before you're darting to the bedroom, desperate for release.
it's almost embarrassing how wild this man drives you.
almost.
the coffee shop uniform crumbles next to your bed, hair undone against the pillow while your fingers are rushing to the hem of your panties. you can't help but notice the wet fabric as your pointer finger finds purchase on your clit, a shock of pleasure surging through your system. it's unbearable at first, the bud too sensitive to touch until your free hand cups your breast, tweaking your nipple softly to disperse the lightning bolts coursing through your body.
there's no harm in this sea of lewd thoughts, it's only intoxicating satisfaction.
These fatal fantasies giving way to labored breath, taking all of me
he's gorgeous - eyes that illuminate the room and flawless skin with a body to die for. his features are etched into your mind, every curve of his muscles, angle of his jawline, thickness of his fingers...
oh god, his fingers.
you stuff two fingers into your soaked entrance at the thought, imagining that it would only be one of his. wanting to feel how he fills you up with such ease, molding to his burning touch until he moves up to two...maybe three.
you could take it, you're a good girl.
you've heard enough of his voice, the way he enunciates, to vocalize his praise in your mind.
that's it princess...
so good for me, doll...
you open up so well for me...
your sighs are so pretty.
the thought of his tongue running along the shell of your ear as he coaxes out your first orgasm has you squirming beneath your own fingers.
If it's make believe, why does it feel like a vow we'll both uphold somehow?
sweat has your back sticking to the sheets, the blaze in your abdomen hotter than hell itself. your fingers aren't reaching deep enough, aren't thick enough, to fuel your desire further - you're feeling too empty.
the nightstand wobbles intensely as you rip open the top drawer, favorite toy now in your sticky grip. you kick off your panties and drag the silicone cock down your belly, stopping shy of your drenched mess of a cunt.
What if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh only in my mind?
you wish you possessed unlimited hands - something to stimulate the yearning for touch, turning the daydream unfathomably realistic. extra hands to grip your thighs, dig blunt nails into your hips, push and pull the fake dick in and out of you for hours.
for now, you get creative with the fantasy.
you tap the silicone tip against your swollen clit, mimicking him teasing you before he slips inside of your tight hole.
look how wet you are, baby...
just for me.
the moan that falls from your lips is voracious, begging yourself for more.
i suppose i can reward you with my cock after being so patient.
My bedsheets are ablaze, I've screamed his name, building up like waves crashing over my grave
the words swirl in your head as your juices coat the toy, the gratifying slurp of your pussy sucking it in to the hilt with no resistance. you clutch the base and begin with a slow, teasing and tantalizing pace, screwing your eyes shut to replace the dildo with the mental image of his dick filling you to the brim.
it's not long before your tempo increases, ferociously fucking yourself while slurring his name, mumbling curses while your release builds. the thread is pulled taut, threatening to snap any moment. your free hand moves back to your puffy clit, harshly pinching around it to push you over the edge.
you ride out your orgasm, continuing to massage your slick covered walls with the toy through the sensation, quivering from the adrenaline. cum drips from your used hole, dribbling down to your ass and staining your sheets.
Without ever touching his skin, how can I be guilty as sin?
blissfully lying in your own mess, you let the dildo slip out of you and sit between your thighs, the sheen of your arousal glistening under the sunlight of your bedroom window.
does he masturbate to the sight of you, too? has he memorized your every curve, the shape of your face, and the silk of your voice? you can't help but picture him sitting in his own bedroom, white knuckling his cock with his pink tip beading with pre-spend to the thought of you - aching for a chance to touch you.
you sigh, wiping the back of your hand across your sweat covered forehead. a surge of guilt begins to settle in-between your trembling thighs...does this define you as an obsessed, lovesick fool?
no. not in the slightest.
it's been a month, there's nothing wrong with fantasizing. you think of it as manifestation, desiring something forbidden until it's graciously presented for you to take.
and one day, you'll take him back to your apartment and into your bedroom, where you can show him just how eager you've been for him.
maybe tomorrow, you'll finally give him your number on his coffee cup.
thank you taylor for another masterpiece of poetic smut to inspire this little drabble ♡
#x reader#fem!reader#x reader smut#reader insert#fem!reader smut#fem reader#x fem!reader#smut#x reader headcanons#☆.rei daydreams#sorry if this is too bakugo kirishima or eren jaeger coded lmao
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