#and you should go read something else lmfao

[northern-passage]

one of the reasons why TNP is one of my favorite IFs is because the cast is trans AND Hunter can be trans too and it will be acknowledged. when it was revealed in the story that Lea and Marry are trans too I was so happy!! there are barely any trans characters in IFs and VNs, even less of them are genderlocked/always trans no matter the chosen gender.

thank you! i always found it very transparent when a game only allows the mc to be nb (very few of them have actual options for binary trans people - it's too hard to do more than just code "they/them" pronouns and be vague i guess) and in my opinion that's way more immersion breaking, because that's not how the real world works. you will see trans people, every day, at like.. target or whatever. and this isn't even just about trans people but also diversity in general.

obviously when it comes to trans characters, this is an attitude that has changed a lot very fast over the past few years, so looking back at older games i don't necessarily expect there to be trans options, nor do i expect everyone to be out here writing complex "transgender" narratives, either. most people that accuse us of that are just bad faith actors. in my experience, people are just looking for basic acknowledgement; they want to see people like them existing and going on fun adventures, too. that's what i want, and that's why me, a trans author, likes to write about trans people being trans in the genre that i like - but rarely get to see myself in.

i also think when it comes to fantasy or scifi, how boring do you have to be to allow for fantastical world-building but draw the line at societal expectations? and if you want to really be specific about world-building, then why would a gender binary exist in a world where there was never a colonial power enforcing it? why do you want sexism, racism, and homophobia to exist so bad? why does it upset you so much when it doesn't?

#obviously there are stories where those things are an important part of the narrative and im not saying it's automatically bad #to write abt societal bigotry #(i have to say that or people will misinterpret me) #but i do think it says a lot when ppl insist that those things HAVE to exist #or else it's not 'accurate' #or else it's 'breaking your immersion' #like idk how to tell you this but trans people ARE real. like for real in real life #if you can't comprehend that... i think that's a you problem #and you should go read something else lmfao #also this isn't even about representation (a word i am really starting to dislike) #it's literally just... how can you not comprehend or empathize with people that may not be exactly like you? #why does it upset you so much to see other stories being told? #i should share a writing advice video i watched recently where a writer talks abt how empathy is a huge part of writing #she's right!! and it's a huge part of reading too #ask #anonymous

[euphternal]

How about a imagine with Paige x pregnant reader❤️

paige bueckers x pregnant!reader 🤰🏼🌱

notes: tw of pregnancy and birth 💖 i hope u love this <3 &&& my requests are open!!!!

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

₊✧. — she’s so damn attentive, bless her :((

₊✧. — you’ve been standing on your feet all day? she’s whipping a chair out of THIN air…

₊✧. — she’s always getting you flowers everytime your baby or babies hits a milestone… oh, her hands are grown, here comes a FAT bouquet of flowers 😭

₊✧. — she's gotten into the habit of taking 0.5x photos of u during ur pregnancy and ur guys' baby LMFAOOOO

₊✧. — she’s CONSTANTLY reading pregnancy books, nothing else lmfao

₊✧. — she’s LOVEEESSS coming up behind you and carrying your belly for a good few seconds, to take the weight off your back :((

₊✧. — she’s SPAMMING the huskies groupchat with her baby fever and you

₊✧. — as she’s a women, she understands what your going through and the up and downs. she’s always coming up with the best advise EVERRRRR

₊✧. — you’ve been in labour more than you should do, paige, her family, your family and her team all came for support. cheering you on and all taking turns holding ur babyyy :((( they all love you unconditionally :(((

₊✧. — if u want something, she’s already got it LMFAO.

₊✧. — paige and the teams are always telling you to give it a break or sit the fuck down. cause you love helping them out sm.

₊✧. — ur literally the mama bear of their team😭 always looking after thier cuts, bruises or any kind of injuries from them, feeding them, JUST ANYTHING FROM OR FOR THEM

₊✧. — she’s always telling you to stay in bed when the baby starts crying in the middle of the night. she's already fed her, pats her, changes her, JUST EVERYTHING

₊✧. — omg ur guys’ baby or babies LOVESSSS being with auntie azzi, auntie ice, auntie kk (especially kk) and auntie nika sm🥹🥹🥹

₊✧. — obvs ur guys’ baby/babies are obvs gonna love basketball too LMFAOOO

₊✧. — it’s practically forced a upon 😭😭😭

₊✧. — OH MY GAWWDDD, GENO IS THIER GRANDDAD😭🥹 he loves ur baby/babies sm

₊✧. — he would GLADLYYYYY, babysit your baby/babies while paige is practicing/training

₊✧. — you and geno are sitting on the sideline seats. he’s bouncing you baby on his knee, making ur baby laugh. meanwhile paige is a across the court just standing there… SOBBING LMFAO

₊✧. — kk is an absolute SWEETHEART with your baby/babiesssss :((((

₊✧. — now the rest of the huskies are getting baby fever LMFAO

₊✧. — the team is ALWAYS telling the cam crew at thier tournaments to show their baby/babies on the big screens (obvs without telling paige LMFAO) and obvs everyone cheers when the see ur babies :((((

₊✧. — IM SOBBING WRITING THIS???

₊✧. — does anyone want a part two?? cause i fucking want it LMFAOOOOO

#paige bueckers head cannons #paige bueckers headcannons #paige buckets #paige x reader #paige bueckers headcannon #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #uconn vs iowa #uconn #uconn women’s basketball #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #connecticut huskies

[moe-broey]

Man.........

#unfortunate but true. i may have to trim my split ends. #i'm like. legitimately sad about it lmfao???? might sound silly but my hair is like extremely important to me #something something gnc trans person ect ect. you get it. #i'm like!!!! so so sooo excited that my hair is now longer than it ever has been since like i was a kid #like it's so funny to me actually. when i was trying to be 'a girl' i always had short 'cute enough' hairstyles. never past my shoulders. #the lower part of my mullet is like well past my collarbone now. it's SO sick i love it SO much #which is like..... why it feels so painful to consider even trimming it...... it's so powerful......... #but. i did some reading and apparently having split ends can fuck up everything more than just being scraggly and shit #so if i want to keep growing it out. sacrifices may be in order. 😔😔😔😔😔 #i also love when sites are like 'nooooo don't cut your hair yourself you should go to a salon 😰😰😰😰' #'but if you REALLY wanna do it yourself you should REALLY have the right supplies 😣😣😣😣' #like thanks for the concern babygirl but i'm queer. i've been cutting my own hair w fabric scissors for years now! #i literally do not trust anyone else with it.

[spamgyu]

ONE LAST TIME // Seungcheol x Reader oneshot

DESCRIPTION: It's Christmas and Seungcheol was bored... Who better else to bother than Kkuma's mom? PAIRING: Seungcheol x Reader GENRE: Fluff MASTERLIST

Merry Christmas to all my Cheol Apologists. Here is a quick unedited drabble/oneshot for you guys – a little something for making me laugh.

"Merry Christmas 🎁🎄😉"

His thumb hovered over the send button, chewing at his lip as he contemplated whether he should go ahead and allow his intrusive thoughts win.

He had seen countless of twitter posts about exes doing this same thing, laughing at each one.

After the fifth one he scrolled past, Seungcheol decided "why the hell not" and scrolled to the bottom of his messages — clicking on the one conversation he had yet to delete.

Along with the name he had yet to change.

He wasn't hanging on to her, no definitely not.

Just didn't think it's that important to delete messages when his phone storage was completely fine.

And why go as far as changing her contact name back to her government name. The honey emoji was cute anyways.

Fuck it.

Holding his breath, he hit send and waited for the screen to flash the words delivered before swiping out of the app.

It was just in good fun, he wasn't expecting a reply — he just wanted to be as annoying as the other men on social media who reached out to their exes after months of no contact..... for the laughs.

He knew there was a higher percentage of her leaving him on read than replying and telling him off; she was always the bigger person.

But Seungcheol was oh so wrong.

In the midst of replying to Jeonghan's instagram story of his family's Christmas feast, her assigned contact name appeared.

"Lmfao stfu" She replied.

But she also hearted the message.

Letting out a soft chuckle, he quickly typed away on his keyboard.

"Damn, not even going to say it back?"

He was just joking.

And he knew she found it funny.

Within seconds her chat bubble appear — she was typing.

"Merry Christmas, Cheol🎄"

"What about my family?"

He was pushing it.

But with all his other friends far too busy with their own family activities to reply to his texts, he was going to keep at it.

"Texted your mom this morning dumbass."

He wasn't aware she was still in contact with his mother.

Though, he should have figured.

They were together for three years.

And his mom had always wanted a daughter.

"Dumbass? At least be nicer to your favorite ex."

"Who said you're my favorite? 🫵🏼"

"I just know 😉"

"You're currently at the bottom on my list. At least my other ex got me a present."

Bottom of her list.

She had only one other ex.

And he didn't count.

High school boyfriends don't count. Especially if they broke up right after graduation.

Those were just test runs.

More importantly, it was Seokmin. And he gives presents to everyone.

He had a big heart and wants to be everyone's friend.

"Was it a tea set again?"

"Shut up lol"

"Send me your list, I'll get you something."

"Dyson Airwrap 😈"

He knew she was joking.

But wouldn't it be funny, if he actually did it?

Switching apps, Seungcheol typed into his search bar, clicking the first result that had pooped up.

He still had her address memorized.

Seungcheol hit the complete button, and locked his phone as bounded for the dining room — checking to see if his mom and dad had finally set up tonight's feast.

He was just about to pick at the cheeseboard his mother set up on the table when the familiar sound of a facetime call blared from the phone in his hand began to ring — it was her.

She must have gotten the confirmation email.

"Wassup?" He swiped the accept button — throwing a cheese cube in his mouth.

It had been a while since he had last seen her, being blocked on all her social media accounts and all.

She was really persistent on keeping the no contact rule after the break up.

Even when they took turns taking care of their shared dog, Kkuma — opting to use Wonwoo as their puppy's form of transportation and point of contact.

He protested each time their non-government assigned custody switch off was set to happen — trudging to his car with Kkuma in tow.

Wonwoo claimed they were far worse than actual divorced parents — complaining more considering Seungcheol technically had custody of him and the dog.

Seungcheol couldn't help but bite back a smile as he watched her from behind the screen — making note of how cute she looked when she was annoyed.

He's allowed to think she's cute.

They were broken up but that doesn't mean she wasn't attractive.

"You're joking, right?"

"What are you talking about?" Seungcheol blinked.

She could see right through his act, giving him the finger.

"Hey, that's not nice." He laughed.

"You're crazy, you know that?"

"Am I your favorite yet?"

"No!"

"I'll buy you another one." He threatened.

"Cheol!"

"Yes?" He answered sweetly, making her lips curl in annoyance.

He always did enjoy getting her nerves.

Seeing her huff and puff had always been his favorite part of his day.

Especially when she would pout after taking a joke a little too far only for him to kiss it all better — not that he could do that now.

He's allowed to reminisce on old memories. At least, he'll allow himself just this one time during the holidays.

"Fine, what do you want?"

You.

Seungcheol shook his head. "Nothing."

"Come on, let me get you something."

He pursed his lips, thinking — he had almost anything he could ask for.

And if he did end up thinking of anything, he could simply swipe his card and purchase it himself.

There was one thing he did want, but be knew it would be a selfish thing to ask of her.

Settling for the next best thing, a smile crept on his face."What perfume do you use again?"

"You want my perfume?" She raised her brows.

He missed the way she smelled.

The remaining item he had that held traces of her no longer had that signature scent — having it been nearly a nine months since she had lounged around his place in his hoodie.

He would have purchased it himself, but the thought of him going out of the way to purchase her scent only for him to spray it on her favorite hoodie and her side of the bed seemed pathetic.

But considering she offered....

"Why not? I like the smell." He shrugged.

Sighing, she swiped out of their call — allowing for his face to minimize and settle for a corner in her screen as she quickly typed away on her phone.

She still had his address memorized as well.

Seungcheol couldn't be more grateful that Apple had changed their phone setting and no longer pause the person on the other side of the line's video when they swiped away — watching as she brought the device closer to her face, her brows naturally furrowing as she focused in her task.

"Done." She sang, clicking back into their call.

It wasn't long before he got the confirmation email, his eyes widening at the transaction breakdown.

"Why the hell is your perfume $250!?" His mouth hung in shock.

It was no wonder she had always scolded him for spraying a little too much when she allowed him to have some.

Curse Le Labo and their damn prices.

"It's worth it."

"I would hope so, it cost almost as much as a hairdryer!"

"You asked for it!" She laughed.

It was music to his ears.

"Is that y/n?" His mom's scurried over to him, wiping her hands on her apron. Seungcheol moved the camera to fit the both of them on screen, the smile on his face growing larger – as if it could get any more since their call began.

"Merry Christmas, mom!" She waived.

Mom.

When he had first introduced her to his parents, it didn't take long for them to warm up to her – insisting that she referred to them as mom and dad because "you two will be married soon, anyways."

Oh, they were so wrong.

"Stop by tomorrow for leftovers yeah?" The older lady asked.

"Mom..." He trailed off, not wanting to pressure the girl behind the screen – although, they did agree that Kkuma was to ring in the New Year with her because he had a snowboard trip planned with his friends.

She can pick her up early instead of having to ask Wonwoo.

"I'd love to." She smiled warmly.

How was he going to find someone who got on well with his mom?

Trick question.... he didn't want to.

"Perfect." His mother clapped, before excusing herself back into the kitchen.

"Guess I'm picking our daughter up early." She mumbled.

Our daughter.

"Guess I'll be seeing you too."

"That can be arranged."

"Come on, it's been months. I think we can see each other now." He half-heartedly teased.

The anger had subsided and the wounds that once kept them up at night had grown numb – the only memory of their past were now re-runs of the good times. It was as if their brain completely disregarded the fighting and the heartache that they had gone through in the last few months of their relationship.

They were now.... okay.

"I don't know, Cheol."

"Come on. One last time."

It was almost like he was pleading for her – the playful tone between the two have shifted.

He watched as she nervously switched holding her phone from one hand to the other, chewing at the skin inside her cheek.

He shouldn't have mentioned it.

But he was already far from the line they had drawn between them – swearing to never cross.

"I miss you." He continued. "It's a neutral setting. We can have breakfast with my parents."

"One last time?"

"Promise."

He broke that promise within a few weeks – picking up Kkuma at her apartment instead of his friend. She nearly stumbled back when she swung the door open and saw his smiling face – holding a paper bag containing her favorite pastries.

It wasn't long before he would show up at her door again and again; and she wasn't complaining.

They swore they were just friends.

Two exes who were coparenting – remaining cordial for the sake of their dog.

That was, until she had agree to spend Christmas with him at his family home – one last time.

They should have known his mother was scheming, she was a little too cheerful when she had greeted them at the door.

"Oh, will you look at that!" She gasped, pointing up above them as they kicked their shoes off.

The two exchanged looks before looking up at the doorway where his mother taped two leaves – a chuckle escaping his lips in an instant.

"What do you say?" He raised a brow at her. "One last time?"

"Or maybe a couple more," Y/n copied his playful tone. "if... you want."

"Oh, I definitely want." Seungcheol wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer – planting a quick peck on her lips.

His mother was there.

And so was their daughter.

"Merry Christmas." She giggled.

Thank god for that damn twitter trend.

#TO MY TEAM MINGYU GIRLIES: i swear im not paying favorites #this is me trying to restore peace #i swear #scoups x reader #choi seungcheol #seungcheol fluff #seventeen fic #seungcheol #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol fic #seungcheol x you #seventeen seungcheol #seungcheol x oc #scoups #scoups scenarios

[tojisbbg]

𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙞 𝙢𝙖𝙙𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧?

❝i’m sad again, don’t tell my boyfriend. it’s not what he’s made for.❞ 

♡ gojo satoru ♡ 

a/n: the barbie movie man. 

content: gojo satoru x fem!reader, fluff/angst, hurt/comfort, very short (compared to my other works lmfao), not edited. 

---

it was almost midnight, the gloomy weather of the rainy october night made your heart further storm in nothing but despair and loneliness. you just finished showering and drying your hair, now making the bed in hopes of being met with your boyfriend soon. 

you were one of the mentors at jujutsu high and though the job itself made you meet a bunch of amazing people whom are safe to consider as family, the work gets very draining. it’s no use hiding the fact that your heart was incredibly soft, which is rather ironic, considering the fact that your job is so gruesome. 

nonetheless, on the battlefield you can contain your emotions pretty well, but what happens behind closed doors is history. the majority of whom you mentor are teenagers who are cursed with the responsibility of protecting humanity simply because they’re skilled enough to use jujutsu. 

it wasn’t fair, no child should ever be stripped away from their youth. it made your heart shred to pieces knowing the fact that some of your students can’t even fit in the time to hang out, party or just be young and dumb with their friends like normal teenagers. 

it was yuji’s birthday today and instead of being home and celebrating with his friends, he’s currently out on a mission with gojo right now. your eyes wandered over to your lamp table where the neatly wrapped present of some movies that he’s been dying to watch along with a hoodie. 

your eyes began to sting with tears and you couldn’t help but cry into your palms. this feeling of guilt, despair and sadness haunted you frequently and you tried your best to cope with it by yourself. you didn’t want to burden anyone else with anymore, figuring out that everyone already had enough on their plate to take care of. 

you didn’t realize when gojo arrived to the comforts of your shared home, slipping into the bedroom quietly, only to find you sobbing. he froze in his tracks, his smile falling down as confusion was painted all over his face. 

were you hurt?

was someone bothering you?

did he do something wrong?

gojo knew that dating you meant being very patient, especially because your nature was very timid and reserved. this perfectly balanced out your relationship, as your boyfriend was a loud extrovert who was extremely clingy as well. gojo was very verbal with his thoughts and emotions, in contrast, you liked to keep things bottled up inside no matter how much he pushed you to spill it. but, of course, gojo respected your wishes to not tell him and always reminded you that he’s always here to listen if you needed someone. 

however, your boyfriend has been concerned about your well-being recently. gojo satoru might seem like a himbo, but he’s a genius; and despite your shy personality, he can read through you like water. seeing your mental health slowly deteriorating without knowing the cause of it makes his heart bleed every time when he comes home and sees you sleeping with tear streaks or a puffy face. 

“baby?” gojo finally called out, making you jolt in surprise as you quickly turned around as wiped away your tears. you mentally cursed at yourself for being so careless, trying your best to fix yourself up. with a small smile, you faced him. 

“welcome home, satoru. how did the mission go?” you asked, trying to change the subject. your words made gojo pout, as your boyfriend closed the door behind him before walking closer to the bed. 

“it went well as expected, no casualties, we saved those people and the curses were exorcised.” he responded, his hand going behind his head to untie the blindfold. gojo took the black cloth off, which shielded his gorgeous cerulean colored eyes. his snowy colored hair fell, wisps of it covering his forehead and eyes.

“that’s good to hear.” you let out a breath of relief, making him hum. 

“how was your day?” gojo casually asked, taking off his uniform as he looked at you for an answer. you shrugged, not having much to say. 

“it was okay, i was just home and did some work here and there.” you answer was kept short, making gojo sigh. 

“anything on your mind lately, y/n?” he asked in a gentle voice, now sitting next to you as he took a hold of your hand. you looked at him in surprise, the sudden closeness caught you off guard. 

“no, why’d you ask?” you offered him a small smile, making him frown. 

“because you’ve been lying to me recently. i know you’re not okay, honey, and that’s perfectly fine. i’m here to listen and i’ll try my best to help you.” gojo squeezed your hand in a comforting manner, a lump forming in your throat. 

“i’m fine, baby, i promise.” you once again tried to convince him with your white lies. 

“i saw you sobbing just minutes ago, something is wrong and you’re not telling me. i have the right to know what’s making my girlfriend upset, okay? don’t take that away from me.” his tone dropped, words now getting more agitated and slightly harsh due to your stubborn behavior. 

“fine! yes! something’s bothering me and i’m trying to deal with it as best as i can, alright? it’s none of your business nor do you have to make it yours either.” you glared at him before standing up, looking at his shocked face. you chewed on your inner cheek, feeling guilt slowly swallowing you for acting like this when you knew that he meant well. 

“y/n, how could you say that to me? i’m your boyfriend, for fuck’s sake! do you not trust me or something? is that the case? why can’t you just open up to me!” gojo continued to push your buttons further, his persistence making your tears ducts work hard to resist the stinging in your eyes. 

“i’m going to sleep.” you bluntly responded, attempting to shuffle towards your side of the bed. however, gojo was not about to let you go to bed without getting some answers. he grabbed your wrists and roughly pulled you towards him, making you yelp. 

you were now in between his long and very muscular legs, trapped. you tried your best to break free, but it was no avail. 

“satoru, i’m being serious, let go of me.” you sneered, but he only shook his head. 

“please, y/n, tell me what’s wrong. i want to help you, honey, please let me.” gojo looked at you with begging eyes, his tone was laced with nothing but hurt and frustration. you could feel the walls that you built around your heart crumble as soon as you took a closer look and saw tears welling in those gorgeous eyes. 

“it’s just not fair.” you started, already feeling the burning and squeezing feeling of your throat as your vision started to blur with tears. 

“tell me all your thoughts and feelings, y/n.” he encouraged, rubbing your back as you looked down, thinning your lips as you tried to compose yourself. 

“it’s so hard watching our kids lose bits of their childhood every day. it’s like i’m living in an endless nightmare. it was yuji’s birthday and that poor kid couldn’t even celebrate it ‘cause of the mission. i-i-” you began to choke on your tears, speaking fast and incoherently, yet gojo understood you perfectly. 

“your feelings are completely valid, sweetheart. come here.” gojo pulled you to sit on his lap and you accepted his invitation without any hesitation. you wrapped your legs around his waist before wrapping your arms around his neck, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you cried. he gave you a minute to pour all your tears out, rubbing your back in a soothing manner. 

“they’re just kids! they don’t deserve to live like this. i’d do anything in the world to change things if i could.” you spoke, words slightly muffled but they rang clear in gojo’s ears. 

“it’s a cruel world, y/n. talented kids who are cursed with the power of fighting these monsters are expected to protect ordinary humans. it’s tragic and wrong, but, both you and i are trying our best to protect their youth. you feeling this way and always going the extra mile to see them happy only proves to me how much of a soft-hearted and beautiful person you are. it makes me fall in love with you even more.” your boyfriend’s words warmed your heart, as you hiccuped from your excessive crying. you pulled back, looking at him with a small smile as your tears continued to stream down your cheeks. 

“i tried so hard to deal with this horrible feeling on my own, but it’s just too much.” you confessed, making gojo’s eyes soften. 

“i know it is, sweetheart. why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” he asked, watching you fidget in his embrace. 

“because you already have enough on your plate. being born to be the strongest sorcerer is already draining as it is, it would be wrong of me to burden you with my feelings. it’s not what you were made for, satoru.” you began to caress his soft cheeks, feeling his hands come up to cup yours as he brought your knuckles to his lips to kiss them. 

“that’s exactly what i was made for, my love. i was made to listen to your cries, your thoughts, your giggles, your emotions, everything. i was made to be your boyfriend, the one who’s gonna lend you a shoulder to cry on and arms to hug you tight when you feel scared. i was made to love you and only you. i was made to be yours, y/n.” gojo tenderly spoke, making your heart explode with sparks as his sweet words only made you cry harder.  

you hugged him tightly, mumbling a bunch of ‘sorry’ and ‘i love you’ to him as gojo held you close. if you were to be quiet and focus, you could hear and feel both of your heartbeats synchronizing. 

“feel better now?” gojo asked and you nodded your head. you felt like a huge boulder on your chest has been lifted, the feeling of suffocation was now gone as it felt like you could breathe again. 

“much better.” you responded, combing your fingers through his soft snow colored hair as he sighed in bliss.

“thank you for opening up to me, honey. i’m sorry if i sounded a little pushy, i just want the best for you, that’s all.” he apologized, kissing your temple. 

“don’t apologize, baby. thank you for listening to me and always caring about me. i couldn’t have asked for a better boyfriend.” you gave him a shy smile, kissing the skin of his neck, making him giggle at the ticklish feeling. 

you pulled back, cupping his face into yours before leaning in to place a soft and loving kiss on his lips. gojo melted into your touch, pulling you impossibly closer to him as his kissed you back. it was nothing suggestive nor intense, but the kiss left a sweet taste on your lips. 

the taste of gojo satoru’s undying love for you. 

“i love you so much, satoru.” you whispered against his lips before giving him a peck. 

“i love you more, y/n.” he smiled against your lips before giving you a peck as well, making you giggle. 

“i’ll let you go freshen up now, i’ll make us some tea and then we could go to sleep.” you suggested, making him nod his head. 

“sounds good.” gojo smiled before giving you a kiss on the cheek. you got off of him and watched him go through his closet to find something comfortable to wear. meanwhile, you grabbed the present for yuji and walked over to your closet to place it there. 

“what’s that?” gojo noticed and pointed at the wrapped gift. 

“for yuji, i’ll give it to him tomorrow when it’s time for training.” you explained, making gojo hum. 

“we’re planning a surprise party for yuji tomorrow night, so just give it to him then. i managed to convince the higher-ups by lying to give yuji a few days off along with the other kids.” he gave you a cheeky smile, making you chuckle as you playfully slapped his chest. 

“you’re unbelievable sometimes, satoru.” you shook your head in disbelief. 

“is that a good or bad thing, sweetheart?” he teased, leaning down to come at a closer height to you. you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him towards your face. 

“it’s a great thing, baby.” you smiled and pressed a kiss on his lips, making him laugh. 

they say that humans were initially created in pairs, your other half being your soulmate. though others believe that it’s simply a myth and that soulmates don’t exist, the existence of your boyfriend proves otherwise. 

gojo satoru is your other half and you both were made for each other without a doubt. 

#gojo satoru #gojo #satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk gojo #jjk gojo satoru #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu gojo #gojo imagines #gojo fluff #gojo scenarios #gojo drabbles #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru drabble #gojo satoru fluff #gojo angst

[not-your-fucking-kacchan]

yO omg i just found ur page and i love it so hi im requesting : )

can i get izuku x male reader (or gn! idrc) where the reader is pretty stoic, like todoroki times a billion, and is only friends (boyfriends LMAO, i should mention id prefer if they r already in a relationship) with izuku, like mutters to him to talk, n just follows him around most of the time, n is kinda insecure since he has a bunch of scars and his arms are messed up because of his quirk (like discoloured skin and such) and because him n izuku are childhood friends hes kinda clingy, and is only soft with izuku

but then one day izuku is kinda havin a tough time, and snaps at the reader by accident (the reader kept clinging to him cause he didn't know where else to go and couldn't read the social cues of izuku being frustrated) and just the most heartbreaking angst with a nice fluffy ending of izuku after like a day of realizing the reader hasn't been clinging to him or talking to him and him going to see the reader in his dorms and just walking in on him curled up with a plushie or smth that izuku bought him n trying to sleep and izuku just breaking

you dont have to do this!! have a great day/night and stay hydrated!! im gonna go stalk ur bnha masterlist now ;)

ndsjafbiw i love angst sm

And feel free to stalk my masterlist lmfao i get really happy when i put more and more stuff on there and it gets longer and longer...

brheupqbufverpw also i was listening to bad habits by steve lacy and i llove you so by the walters and bjhsbafw it set the scene so good yall omg.

Whew this has been sitting in my drafts collecting dust since I lost the motivation to write when my account was nuked, but it's back, so I'm back and you guys can have this as your peace offering :D

Masterlist <3

Warning: Scarring, mentions of vomit...

Izuku x Male!Reader - Quiet

You were practically Izuku's shadow. Everywhere he went, you went too. At the beginning of the year you were incredibly quiet and didn't really react to much. You just kept to yourself, really. You had been suffering with some pretty damn crippling anxiety at the time, and it almost had you staying home and ghosting the entrance exam because you couldn't stop thinking about what could go wrong.

You had nearly forfeited your dream because you were scared.

What if you're too weak? What if they reject you? What if you humiliate yourself?

What if somebody sees the horrible scarring on your arms and says something? It's not your fault you're so hideous, but that doesn't stop you from feeling like it is.

Things stayed that way until Izuku spoke to you again for the first time in a few years, making your little heart thud in your chest as he mumbles and mutters hypotheses about your quirk and about how glad he was to have seen how you'd grown. The boy is so open and friendly, and so talkative that it more than makes up for your lack of input in the conversation. It had been that way before as well.

You both had been childhood friendsat some point, but for some reason you'd grown apart. It broke your heart, but lo and behold the quirkless boy is entering the exam too. Who knows, when you both fail maybe you could be friends again.

At least that was what you'd thought.

Except, you didn't fail. And neither did he.

You had stuck around him after that, following him to class and for lunch until he started to get a little freaked out when leaving for the dorms only to see you still trailing behind. He confronted you and bashfully asked why you've been shadowing him the whole day with an awkward smile, unknowingly hurting your little guarded heart as you realised that your company was apparently unwanted. Of course it was. What were you thinking?

When he saw your dejected face, and felt you practically deflate in front of him, speaking up quietly for the first time the whole day, he immediately felt bad and invited you to his dorm room to talk at you some more, since he knew you wouldn't be replying much.

"S- sorry... i'll go. 'didn't mean to bother you. I just felt safe..."

His poor little (gay, but he doesn't know that yet) heart melted on the spot.

It was from then on that the two of you stayed as close friends again, and Izuku became your safety net. Every time you would panic or cry and cower away in your dorm room he was there, ready to help you challenge your negative thoughts and give you the confidence to step outside again. You had grown even closer than before despite the rift that had previously grown between you.

When he had gained the patchy, discoloured scarring on his arms from abusing them so much with his quirk, he had smiled, and held your arms close together with his.

"We match! ... You still think we're so hideous?..."

Your heart had skipped a beat when he said "we", implying that he would share this burden with you.

Over time, you started to grow closer and closer, until one day, you cleared your throat to speak while sitting in Izuku's bed with him, some random hero documentary playing on his TV. He immediately shut up at the time, listening to you speak because it's so rare that you'd break your silence unless you were with him and he was honoured that he was the one to make you feel that comfortable, and you would never forget how his cheeks started to glow when you confessed to him that day. He was so proud that you were able to tell him, and immediately accepted your confession of love.

Ever since then you had hung around him at all times, clinging to his blazer with an outstretched hand when the halls got busy and even following him to the bathroom, his blush ever present every time you did. He didn't truly mind though.

But today, he had been in a rather sour fight with Bakugou, and he was reeling. You had never really been privvy to social cues, so when he let out frustrated sighs and huffs, and held his head in his hands during break, you just thought he was feeling a little off today.

Discoloured, scarred fingers reach out to hold onto his blazer sleeve when you start to feel a little unsettled, huddling close to him and showing him your affection, but he does not take kindly to it.

A sharp smack fills the silence of the room as Izuku swats your hand away harshly, growing irritated with and overstimulated by everything around him. You know he must have been having a bad day, but it must've been you. You didn't realise that you had ruined his day and part of you almost thinks of this as his way of breaking up with you, but you don't have much time to think on it before your boyfriend is yelling at you.

He had never yelled at you before.

"What's is it now?! Can't you see i'm not in the mood?! I can't do this right now. You don't have to cling to me every second of the day!"

Everything feels numb when, for the first time ever, Izuku raises his voice at you. He definately wants to break up. Didn't you hear, idiot? He said he doesn't want you near him anymore. He doesn't like you anymore.

It doesn't even take a second for the overwhelmingly depressing and intrusive thoughts to infiltrate your mind and swarm you, and you freeze up as he walks away from you, your throat suddenly closing up as your eyes sting from the salt in your tears.

For hours you sit alone in your bedroom, curled up under your sheets and crying so hard you almost vomit. Of course he doesn't want to be with you anymore, look at you. Your face is bright red and your skin is raw and sore from all of the tears and the wiping of your face. It hurts. And it looks like it does too.

You curl up into a large dragon plush that Izuku had won for you at an arcade date the two of you went on. It was one of your first dates and still remains one of the best memories of your life. The fur of the plush is absolutely ruined with snot and tears, and your voice is hoarse and it carries in your cries how torn apart you are. It's sad, the first time you've used your voice this much in such a short space of time is when your crying into a plush over your boyfriend. Or your ex.

Your hair is slick with sweat and tears and a few strands cling to your face as you cry, and you're completely exhausted by the time midday rolls around.

The next day, you skip school and stay in your room, your head pounding from the dehydration of crying out all the fluids in your body. You're only brought out of your trance as you hear a tentative knock on your door. Is the school day over already? Oh...

You didn't even bother to go to dinner, and you haven't eaten all day because you hadn't the guts to come out and face everyone after sonething like that. You may be a strong hero, but without Izuku, your crutch, you felt like nothing.

The last thing you expect to see is Izuku walking in to find you curled up in your bed, in a state worse than any he's ever seen you in. Considering that he's seen every one of your panics attacks since you had grown close, that's saying something.

Immidiately he's by yourside, relising how bedly he had fucked up. You were still cradling your hand close to your chest in an effort to stay close to the last place he touched you.

The freckled boy had come to apologise for snapping at you the way he did, but he never expected it to be this bad, and he truly worried when he didn't see you in class this morning. He felt unsettled not having you there beside him since you were both a package deal, and everywhere you went, you went with Izuku in tow.

His heart just about shatters as you look up at him with confused eyes, the colour in them appearing so much more intense with the flood of emotion and the redness of your sclera. your eyelashes are dark and bunched together with little tear droplets and the image is so etherial to him. He's so in love with you that it hurts, and there's an uncomfortable tightness in his chest and a lump in his throat at the sight of you like this. The second he saw you curled up and crying into his plush his heart had dropped to the floor and he had physically felt it.

In seconds he's apologising and tearing up, crying with you while he gets under the covers to cuddle.

"Baby, I- i'm so, so sorry! I never meant to hurt you like that, I swear! I was stressed and I took it out on you- i'm sorry! I've been a horrible partner- but i'll make it up to you, I promise..."

You didn't doubt him. The boy was torn up about how he treated you and the relief and comfort of finally being back in his arms again, coupled with the realisation that he didn't break up with you had your heart stuttering and racing and a hundred miles an hour while you cuddle the fluffy haired boy.

Your hands are already buried into his hair and he practically whines as you press your forehead against his under the sheets. As he rambles about how sorry he is you just scratch his scalp, still recovering from the heartbreak of what you thought was a split between the two of you, and you say nothing back.

Izuku knows you though, and he knows your silence isn't one of rejection. He holds you close with surprisingly strong arms, holding the hand he slapped away in his and trailing his thumbs over the discoloured scarring there. As much as you see Izuku breaking every record with his astounding strength, he's still just that squishy baby in your mind, with hamster cheeks and big, beady eyes that are like glass windows to his soul.

It brings a smile to your face and fresh tears to your eyes. You're so in love that it hurts.

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha #mha #bnha fluff #bnha headcanons #mha fluff #izuku midoryia x you #izuku headcanons #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku x male reader #midoriya x reader #izuku x m!reader #bnha imagines #bnha midoriya #bnha x male reader #mha x male reader #izuku x you #bnha male reader insert #mha male reader insert

[lowkeychenle]

Try Me On [NJM] (feat. Chenle)

Description: FWB!Jaemin takes you to buy lingerie. You're surprised when he tells you to pick out one Chenle will like too, until you realize what his goal is. A few photos and a video call later, you know you're in for it the next time you see Chenle.

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 3,073

Content Warnings: So much goes on here lmfao sooo public sex (Jaemin), phone sex (Chenle), one lil instance of a hand necklace (thank you Jaemin), use of the term Princess, Chenle calls them brats yada yada oh and unprotected sex (plz don't do this part)...and use of mirrors.......and taking pics and videos there's a lot okay

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x Reader x Na Jaemin

Author's Note: This is the second installment...so you should read the first part of the AU first, but the poly portion of it is kind of ambiguous right now? They'll get there eventually but the smut needs to progress naturally to that point (bc boo more smut right?)

Opposites Attract [Poly!Jaemle Series Masterlist]

General Masterlist

Permanent Taglist: @haeigoo

“Isn’t the whole point of lingerie like, you being surprised?” You furrow your eyebrows at Jaemin. “Plus, what if someone sees you with me?”

“You know we’re still friends in real life, right?” Jaemin chuckles as he walks into the store behind you.

“Male friends don’t usually go with female friends to try on underwear, Jaem,” you remind him, eyes already snagging on a few pieces you like.

“I’m a man, and you need a man’s opinion. Sounds simple enough to me.”

You snort in response.

“It’s not complicated at all, Princess. Plus, I paid them to close the store for two hours so you could find whatever you’d like.” His tone is so nonchalant, you almost miss what he actually said.

“You paid them for what?” Your jaw drops. “Jaemin, what the hell? What if they know who you are?”

“Money solves all problems,” he says. “Stop worrying. The clock is ticking and if I don’t see you at least 90% naked, I’m gonna make you 100% naked in the middle of the store.”

Your cheeks suddenly burn like you’re on fire. There’s not an ounce of humor in his voice.

“While you’re at it,” he pauses briefly, almost like he has to come to terms with what he’s about to say next, “find something Chenle would like, too.”

No way in hell today is happening. It’s completely possible you’re dreaming right now, because Na Jaemin just told you to pick out lingerie sets to wear for him and your other fuck buddy. It’s only been a week since you took both of them at once. Things seemed fairly normal after that—as in, they went back to having completely separate relationships with you.

“Didn’t know you thought of me with Chenle a lot,” you mutter, looking anywhere but at Jaemin.

“At first it was a little bit of an ego shot.” Jaemin’s honesty almost knocks you off your feet. “But it feels normal now. And I’m not going to buy you lingerie to wear for me and not think of the way Chenle has bent you over every surface of your house.”

“Jaem—“

“I never realized how turned on I’d get at the idea of watching you get fucked by someone else. You were so overwhelmed, Princess. It was sexy.” He runs his fingers through his hair, chest rising. “Pick some out for him, too.”

You clear your throat, trying your best to pretend his simple words didn’t have heat swarming inside you. If the offer was on the table, you’d take them both again. The pleasure was unlike anything you’d ever felt before, and you swear you can still feel it tingling inside you at the mere thought of them.

Jaemin prefers lighter colors. Pinks, whites, baby blues. He likes feigned innocence and purity, fabric that left little to the imagination but still covered you enough to leave him some joy in unwrapping you.

And even though you hadn’t ever dressed in lingerie for Chenle, you have a feeling you know what he likes. Blacks, reds, deep, royal blue. For him, you couldn’t really convince yourself he’d like anything more than he likes seeing you naked.

You pick out four to try on. There’s only one that might spark something for Chenle, but you aren’t completely sure. Jaemin would help you decide.

You head over to the fitting rooms, giving Jaemin a wide-eyed glance when he tries to follow you. The worker stops him.

“Sorry, sir, I can’t let you go in there.” She holds up her hand.

“Ah.” With a sigh, he reaches into his pocket for his wallet. He opens it and grabs a wad of cash, holding it out to the woman. “I don’t even think I’m really here right now.”

Reluctantly, she takes it from him and disappears toward the front of the store. You should scold him for doing something like that, but you can’t help but like it much more than you should.

Jaemin leads you into the room by the small of your back, closing and locking the door behind you. You’re not sure what to expect from him. There’s plenty of space to move around, and he sits on the bench on the far side of the room. You stand between him and the mirror, the skimpy shreds of fabric clutched to your chest.

“You want me to just…”

“Yep.” He grins, raising his eyebrows. “I’ve seen it all, baby.”

“It’s different in this context. What if they look bad on me?” You frown at him.

He scoffs. “(Y/N), in no world are any of those gonna look bad. You’re so sexy, you make me hard no matter what you’re wearing.”

You won’t lie—he boosts your confidence way more than you should allow. If Na Jaemin is calling you sexy, you have to be, right?

“Try Chenle’s on first. We’ll send him a picture.” Jaemin pulls his phone out of his pocket and winks. “Think he’s busy?”

You pull your shirt over your head. “He said he was recording with Donghyuck and Renjun today.”

“Let’s make his day a little harder, huh?” He chuckles to himself, leaning back against the wall as he watches you strip.

His gaze drinks in every inch of your bare skin as you remove the rest of your clothing. You try to ignore the dark look in his eyes once you’re fully naked, really try, but everything he does makes you crave him beyond belief.

The royal blue fabric is intense, despite the lack of material. It’s completely sheer, displaying your already peaked nipples without even a smidge of coverage.

“Fuck,” Jaemin mumbles, shifting forward. “You look so fucking good.”

“I don’t know about that.” You let out a small laugh.

“C’mere. We’ll ask Chenle.” He spreads his legs, and you already know what he wants you to do.

“Jaem…”

“Baby,” he whines. “Come get on your knees and let me show him. You didn’t mind both of us at the same time last week.”

You do as he asks, kneeling in front of him and placing your palms on your knees. Gulping, you patiently wait as he positions his phone to take the photo.

“You look so good,” he says, wetting his lips. “Wanna do one more pose for him?”

Against your better judgment, you nod.

“Put your ass up.” It’s not a suggestion.

You listen, turning around and sliding your chest against the floor. The hardwood is cold on your skin, but Jaemin’s sharp inhale makes you undeniably warm. With a burst of confidence, you spread your legs a but further, knowing you’re giving him a clear view of your pussy.

Jaemin grips your ass while he takes the picture.

“Okay, baby. Get one of the other ones. Hurry, or I’ll have to fuck you in this one before Chenle does.”

Blushing, you get up and grab the pink one you picked out. You barely have time to get it all the way on when Jaemin’s phone buzzes once, twice, three times.

He looks at the screen and chuckles. “Chenle’s mad at me. He said he wants to, and I quote, rip that flimsy fabric off of her and fuck her stupid.”

You’re so weak when it comes to them. Jaemin glances up at you, a dark look in his brown eyes.

“My God, look at you.” He clicks his tongue. “Should we keep playing with him? I think so.”

“We can’t stay here all day,” you warn him. “We’ve already been here for an hour.”

“Okay, I’ll give you the choice then.” He sighs. “You can suck my cock or you can get fucked while I send videos of us to Chenle.”

“This isn’t real.” You laugh, smacking your palm to your forehead. “Jaemin, we’re in public!”

“This is a closed room,” he replies.

His gaze rakes over your body.

“We’ll buy that one, too. Put the white one on and pick an option.”

Your logic doesn’t work when you’re around Jaemin. He offers to fuck you and you melt into a puddle immediately no matter where you are or what you’re doing. Your body knows he doesn’t stop until you’ve finished, and now you crave release.

“We gotta be fast, babe.” He unbuttons his pants as you put the white set on. “Please, please pick getting fucked. I’ve been so hard this whole time.”

If you’re going to commit to this, you’ll act the part, too. You put on the best seductive face you can, moving slowly over to him until you’re standing between his legs.

“I’m buying you all of these,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Too fucking sexy.” He turns you around so you’re facing the mirror, his fingers trailing up your bare sides and sneaking under the white lace.

You gasp when he yanks you down onto his lap, hands resting on your hips. He chuckles lowly, kissing from your shoulder to your jawline.

“What are you doing?” you ask breathlessly, eyes nearly rolling when his touch ghosts along your inner thighs.

“Just making sure you’re ready for me.” He squeezes your leg.

“I’m ready.” You grind down the best you can, living for the way he hums in response.

He releases you, allowing you to stand up while he pushes his jeans down. Reaching into his boxers, he pulls himself out of his boxers, stroking a couple times before he beckons for you to join him. You climb over him and make sure to face the mirror while you straddle him. The uncomfortable plastic of the bench digs into your knees, but as Jaemin slides the thin fabric covering your heat aside, you don’t even think of it.

“God,” he groans when he slides a finger along your entrance. “You must fucking love the thought of both of us, don’t you?”

“You might like it a little more than me,” you tease him.

You barely get the sentence out before he’s guiding his throbbing cock into you. Once he’s fully inside, every word you considered saying next has disappeared, and all that’s left is how good he feels. The stretch is a little harder to take without foreplay, but he allows you time to adjust.

“Princess,” he mutters against your ear. “You brought him into this. I’m being good and sharing, is that not what you want? Because I can just as easily keep you for myself.”

You lift yourself up with his guidance, moaning when he thrusts up to meet you on the way back down. He inhales sharply, grabbing his phone.

“Keep going,” he commands.

It’s hard to move in this position, so you’re not able to ride him the way you usually would, but the lack of mobility sends more wetness to your core. You’re desperate to take all of him. Focusing on his pleasure, you ignore the ache forming in your thighs.

His hand travels over the expanse of your stomach, and from the way you see him holding his phone in the mirror, you know he’s recording. You try your best to move faster, wanting to give the recipient of the video that much more material. He finds your clit rubbing it just enough to have you moan loudly and jolt your hips before he stops.

He drops his head against the wall, ending the recording and sending it to Chenle.

“How does it feel, Princess?” he asks, touch dancing along your collarbone. The soft fabric of his sweatshirt presses into your back, and you wish more than anything you could feel his bare skin against yours. He gives your throat a quick squeeze. “You’re stuffed full of my cock, and Chenle’s watching that video wishing he was me.”

You let out a weak laugh. “Jaem, are you getting jealous?”

He fully wraps his hand around your neck and tugs you back until he’s talking in your ear. “Careful, baby,” he warns you. “Don’t give me a reason to be.”

His phone vibrates with an incoming call against the bench, and you stop moving. You settle onto his lap even though your entire body begs you to continue. Jaemin answers, but he doesn’t have time to say anything before Chenle starts scolding him.

“What part of I’m recording with Renjun and Donghyuck did you two not fucking understand?” His voice sounds strained. “You fucking brats.”

“Keep going, Princess.” Jaemin pats your leg before returning his attention to Chenle. “She looks sexy in white, doesn’t she?”

You resume your motions, trying to set a steady pace while Jaemin rubs your thigh.

“Fuck you, Jaemin,” Chenle groans, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “I don’t have a lot of time, and I’m hard as hell. Can’t believe I’m stuck recording while you’re fucking our girl.”

Our girl. You whimper at the words, and you’re not sure if the twitch of Jaemin’s cock buried deep inside you is from you or Chenle.

Your legs burn at this point, but when the signature FaceTime sound starts, you don’t dare slow down your pace. Jaemin feels heavenly inside you, and the thought of Chenle watching has you dripping down your thighs. You forget you’re in public for a moment, moans falling from your lips as Jaemin positions the phone in front of you. He uses his knees to spread you apart further, and he sinks a little further inside you.

Chenle has the perfect view of you riding Jaemin.

“You’ve always been too easy on her,” Chenle growls. “Play with her tits.”

You’re surprised Jaemin listens to the other’s command. He immediately slides his hand beneath the white fabric and tweaks your nipple. Your hips jerk and you’re so close to begging him to make you cum. You feel the high approaching, but you need more. His length is heavenly inside you, but it’s not enough to push you over the edge, and both he and Chenle know that. Your clit throbs, screaming at you to give it attention.

“She doesn’t get to finish,” Chenle says. “Fuck her until you’re done, but she doesn’t deserve it yet.”

You cry out in protest.

“She’s so pretty when she cums, though.” Jaemin pouts, moving down until his fingers tease your lower stomach.

“My God, please.” You move faster. “Please, I need it so bad.”

“Don’t you hear her?” Jaemin hums. “I always make my princess cum. What are you gonna do about it?”

His fingers connect with your clit, and you let out a much too-loud moan as your hips jerk. You move faster on top of him, wanting nothing more than to fall apart. Right before the high washes over you, he stops.

“Fuck,” you hiss, trying to get that feeling back.

Chenle’s breath hitches, and the sounds coming from his end of the phone tells you he’s fisting his cock right now.

“I’ll punish both of you.”

Jaemin’s length twitches inside you, and this time, you know it’s from Chenle. Warmth floods your legs as all sorts of images flash across your mind. You don’t want to be punished, but you desperately want to cum. Your body aches, and there’s an intense pressure building in your abdomen that makes your skin sticky with sweat and your core flutter around Jaemin.

Smirking, he finds your clit again. Almost like he knows what’s going to happen, he drops his phone and covers your mouth with his hand, muffling your scream of pleasure as your walls clamp down on him. Your vision turns white, and you barely notice what happens next between your delirious state and the way Chenle’s moans filter through the phone.

Jaemin pulls you off him and turns you around so he can look at you. You’re back on his lap within seconds, and he tugs you down until you’re filled with him all over again. He seems to have forgotten about the other man. He thrusts upward, nails digging into your hips to pull you down every time.

Another few seconds later, and his head is falling back against the wall with a thud as his warm cum fills you. He gives himself a moment to calm down, and then he grabs his phone. With your head buried in his neck, you shy away from the camera.

“Both of you better be at my fucking house in the next half an hour, understood?” Chenle’s voice is low and a bit scratchy. “I’m getting out of here, and by the time I get home, both of you better be waiting.”

“One more thing,” Jaemin says. He wraps his arm around you and lays you back against the bench. As he slides his cock out of you, he positions his phone so Chenle has a clear view of Jaemin’s cum leaking out of your pussy and gathering on the ruined lingerie.

“Don’t piss me off even more.” Chenle huffs. “Half an hour, Jaemin. I’m not playing with you.”

“We’ll see.” Jaemin grins widely, winking at his phone before hanging up. He tosses it to the side, returning his attention to you. “Are you okay, Princess? That wasn’t too much, was it?”

“I’m good.” You nod, closing your eyes. “We definitely have to buy this one now.”

He chuckles, helping you sit up. “I already paid for all of them. Did you really think I’d fuck you in it and then pay for it? I’m not a monster.”

You stand on your shaky legs, and he helps you remove the ruined fabric and grabs your clothes. Once both of you are fully dressed, he goes out to the cashier to get a bag. You put all four sets into it. When you see yourself in the mirror, you cringe at how messy you look. There’s no way that woman out there won’t know what happened in here—if she hadn’t heard you first.

You don’t look at her as you follow Jaemin out of the store. He flashes his dazzling smile at you, and you’re not sure why that sends a flutter to your heart.

“Guess we’d better go to Chenle’s, huh?” He raises his eyebrows. “He’s not very happy with us.”

“I didn’t even do anything.” You pout but nod anyway.

He laughs and throws his arm over your shoulder. “You were literally fucking yourself on my cock, babe. I think that counts as something.”

Even with your legs shaking as you walk to Jaemin’s car, everything inside you tingles with excitement at the thought of Chenle punishing you.

#nct dream #nct imagines #chenle #nct dream smut #nct scenarios #nct #jaemin #nct smut #jaemin smut #chenle smut #na jaemin #zhong chenle #chenle x reader #jaemin x reader #jaemle #nct dream jaemin

[ssaaaronmontgomery]

A Night Together

Summary: You accidentally spend an evening alone with Hotch and things go rather well.

Warnings: Some drinking, fluff🤭, mentions of cats and cat allergies, kissing.

Word count: 1.8k

A/n: I suck at titles and I know it sounds smutty but I promise it's not a smut fic lmfao. This has been in my drafts for so long now and I finally finished it. Please let me know what you think! Constructive criticism is great!

"Hey what if everyone came over to my place tonight? We could make something for dinner, play games, and have a few drinks?" You suggested to the team.

They all agreed to a set time and seemed excited for what was to come.

"Great! I'll go ask Hotch real quick." You said and walked to his office. He had mentioned earlier in the day that Jack would be staying with his friend so you knew that if he did want to come you wouldn't be pulling him away from time with his son. You knocked on the door and heard a muffled "Come in." You opened it and stood in the doorway.

"Hey Hotch, I just asked the team if they wanted to come over later for dinner and drinks along with a few games. I was wondering if you would like to come as well?" You said the last part with hope because you really did want him over too. Honestly you had a bit of a crush on your boss. Which of course you knew was inappropriate and unprofessional but you couldn't help it.

"That sounds great y/n. What time should I be there?"

"Around 6:00 if that works for you. That's when everyone else said they would arrive." You said with a smile.

"6:00 is perfect." He smiled making yours become slightly bigger before you turned and went back to the rest of the team.

"Hotch said he will be there too." You announced.

They all looked to you and then back to each other. You could tell they were up to something.

"Oh sweetness I totally forgot that I have plans tonight. I'll pop by another time okay?" Derek said. "Uh. Yeah okay. That's fine." You replied and he gave you a smile.

"Wait don't you have a cat? I'm allergic to cats." Spencer told you. "Spencer since when are you allergic to cats?" You knew something was going on. "I don't know. I guess since I was born?" He said going back to reading a file. "Okay so you and Morgan won't be there. Anyone else that won't be coming over?"

"You know, I'm actually somewhat allergic to cats too."

"Emily what the hell are you talking about? You have a cat!" Okay this was definitely getting weird you thought.

"Yeah well I have been having some problems lately." She said.

"Actually, nevermind. We won't hang out at my place tonight. We can do something somewhere else another time. This way none of you have to randomly become allergic to cats." You said rolling your eyes slightly and going back to your desk. They all smirked slightly as they went back to their work.

You were out of there after about an hour of going through different files. Just ready to go home and have a quiet evening alone since the plans you had were now cancelled.

When you got home the cat was sleeping peacefully in the small bed you had bought for it. You put on your favourite film and got changed into some pajamas for your night in. It was around six o'clock when you heard a knock on your door. You stood up walked to your door confused because no one was supposed to be here. When you opened it you were greeted with your boss smiling at you. He looked over you shoulder, then back to you with a frown noticing no one else was there and that you were in sweatpants and a sweatshirt.

"Hotch? Why are you here?" You asked him confused because the hang out was called off. "I thought you said to be here at six? Did I hear you wrong?" His brows furrowed. Then realisation hit you. You never told him not to come. "You heard me right I just forgot to tell you that we cancelled because three of them bailed basically simultaneously. I said we could go out some other time but I just completely forgot you weren't aware of what happened. I'm sorry you came all the way here Hotch." You explained. "Oh. It's fine you don't need to apologise. In fact I'm sorry that it didn't work out." He said frowning even more. He seemed incredibly disappointed.

Then you thought, maybe he could stay. It may be sort of awkward but just the two of you for the evening sounded rather nice. Plus you still felt bad that he drove all the way here expecting dinner and drinks only to find out that he would be eating alone since Jack was staying with his friend tonight.

"Actually Hotch, what if we still eat dinner and all that? We can still have fun without the others right? I've got some games and we can watch television or something! Only if you want to though." You suggested.

It was entirely possible that having dinner and drinks with him alone wasn't the best idea when it came to keeping things professional between you and Hotch but you didn't really think about that when you made this suggestion.

"Sounds like a great idea to me y/n." He smiled again. You stood there for a moment admiring him in his black polo shirt before you remembered that you hadn't invited him in and that he was just standing outside your home. You stepped to the side so he could come in. He did so and looked around a little from where he was standing, not wanting to just start walking around your place because he wanted to be polite.

"Make yourself comfortable. I was going to make something to eat but if you just want to order in we can do that." You told him after closing the door.

"It's up to you really."

"Making dinner here could be fun. How does pasta sound?"

He smiled. "That sounds perfect."

Smiling back you made your way past him and into the kitchen to grab the ingredients. He followed behind you.

"Okay we can't let Rossi know that we made pasta without him. He would be very offended and tell us we probably didn't do it right." You laughed. "Yeah it's best we keep this to ourselves." He chuckled. It's probably best to keep this entire night between the two of you. The team would tease you both relentlessly and suggest something definitely happened other than just two good friends hanging out together.

Throughout making your dinner the two of you had some light conversation. Talking about Jack and how he's doing. A little about work but you tried to stay away from that topic since it wasn't generally something fun to talk about. You told him how Emily and Spencer are now allergic to cats and he said the same thing you did about how Emily has Sergio so what she said made no sense. You told him that's what you told her. As you both tried to maneuver around the kitchen you bumped into each other a few times. The first time was filled with apologies but by the fourth time you were both laughing over it.

You had opened a bottle of wine once the food was ready and poured a glass for him and one for yourself. Dinner was mostly silent with a few words here and there.

Once you had cleaned up you told him you could each pick a game to play. Leading him to a closet in the hallway you opened it to reveal many boardgames stacked on top of each other. Yahtzee and Pictionary were the final choices.

"YAHTZEE!" You yelled for the third time that night. The first two had been in the first round of the night which you had won. This was the first one of the second round. "How do you keep doing that?" Aaron asked with fake annoyance. "Oh you didn't know I have special Yahtzee powers huh?" You teased. "No, I did in fact not know that. I guess you learn something new everyday." He said going along with your playfulness.

After beating him four times he decided it was best to switch over to Pictionary.

"More wine?"

"Are you trying to get me drunk Hotchner?"

"No. Definitely not." He smirked.

"Mhm. I bet you're not. Pour me another."

You were both on your third glass of wine. If you kept going you didn't know how you'd be able to draw anything for the next game.

You had both been starting to feel the wine kicking in. About halfway through the third glass.

"Y/n how in the world is that a penguin? It looks like a blob. A blob with eyes. It looks like an alien blob y/n."

"What do you mean? It's obviously a penguin! I don't know how you can't see it."

"Y/n look at it! That is definitely not a penguin!"

You were both laughing incredibly hard at this point. Leaning on each other to keep from falling over. Eventually giving up on the game and deciding to start a movie instead.

Putting a comedy on you both got situated on the sofa with blankets and pillows.

You giggled and talked throughout it. Most of what either of you said was about something the characters did on the screen. You had gotten up to get something to snack on and when you came back you sat down right next to Aaron. Your sides practically glued together. Over the next 20 minutes he had wrapped his arm around you and you had moved your legs on top of his. Looking up at him you saw a big beautiful smile gracing his lips. One that you had actually seen most of the night now that you thought about it. You found yourself completely distracted from the movie staring at his mouth.

Aaron had moved his gaze to you. He saw the way you looked at him when you worked together and he knew how you felt about him. You had never told him but he picked up on it not long after you joined the team. He would be lying through his teeth if he said he didn't feel the same about you. Your feelings for each other had only grown as time passed. He wanted this and he knew you did too but he never acted on it because it would be unprofessional and could cause problems down the line if it didn't work out. Even if it did work out it could cause problems. You were both aware of this so you never pursued those feelings. Not until now.

You both leaned in slowly, giving the other the chance to pull away, but neither of you did. His hand moving to cup your cheek as your lips connected and even if it seems cliché it felt like fireworks went off. You moved in sync. It was like you were meant for each other. And you were.

After a moment you both pulled away pressing your foreheads together.

"I have wanted to do that for a long time." He told you softly.

"Me too Aaron. I've wanted that since the first time I met you."

"This could have consequences in the future y/n. It's unprofessional and could create complications with our job."

"Aaron I don't care about the possible consequences or complications. We both want this and we can make it work. This is something I'm committed to."

"Good. Because I am too."

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner #hotchner #hotch #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #derek morgan #spencer reid #david rossi #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner one shot

[here2bbtstrash]

look down on me like that - 8 (explicit)

genre: slow burn enemies to lovers hatefucking coworkers au, smut (w some eventual angst that is no longer eventual 👀)

pairing: yoongi x reader

summary: your asshole coworker min yoongi has made it his personal mission to ruin your life.

word count: *deep breath in* 15.3k

contains: explicit sexual content and discussion of some dark themes .....yyyyyep 🤐 includes past-tense discussions of the d3ath of a parent (reader's) and su1c1dal ideation (yoongi's) so please tread carefully loves 💜 some references to alcohol per usual, and plenty of confusing feelings and piss-poor communication..... i'll leave the rest as a surprise 👀 but here are your smut-specific warnings: kissing (‼️), nipple play, clit stim, a single pussy slap lol, fingering, cunnilingus, squirting (🤭), unprotected sex and pulling out (💀), orgasm denial of sorts, but it's cool bc reader has multiple orgasms, ok byeeeee~

A/N: welp..... i'm off to enter witness protection in case you all decide you hate this chapter 💀 not really but heuhjkghkfjgdsf dear god am i nervous to post this lmfao. hope you're ready for some ~answers to questions~ and a whole lotta callbacks to earlier chapters idk why i shoved them all in ch8 specifically but here you go. the scene at yoongi's apartment was one of the very first things i dreamt up in regards to this story and it's nuts to me that we're all the way here now 💜 hope you're ready for a little more insight into these two! also baby goth fans don't come for me..... i promise we'll get a better resolution there..... reader and yoongi just have to survive LA first 😩

an eternal thank you to @haliiimede and @monimonimoon for being wonderful betas, and to @nabiolive for the dead parent sensitivity read lmfao I LOVE Y'ALL

read on AO3!

chapter seven | masterlist | chapter nine

~*~

In the morning, you wake up well before your alarm with an inexplicable uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. When it’s clear sleep is a lost cause, you decide to just get up, and you move through your routine slowly. Everything feels distant, not quite real, like it’s happening to someone else.

On the bus ride to the office, you let your eyes drop closed and try desperately not to replay the events of last night back. You should feel bad about the sex on the conference room table, and you do, a little. But your mind is stuck somewhere else.

Rain streaking down Yoongi’s windshield. The silence as he drove, disturbed only by the low rumble of his voice. The way he’d looked at you, and the heavy pause that hung in the air between you, for just a moment, until you’d fumbled open the door of his car and had practically ran back to the safety of your apartment. And his story— he’d told you something personal, with no malice or hidden agenda that you can manage to find, no matter how much you search for one. Something from when he was just a kid, growing up in Daegu.

You’re embarrassed to admit that it never even occurred to you that Min Yoongi might be a person with a past and a hometown and stories to tell. As long as you’ve known him, he’s always just felt like… a menace. A life-ruiner. An inescapable force.

The thoughts follow you as you step off the bus and make your way into the building and onto the elevator. You can’t figure it out. Yoongi could’ve easily left you to suffer in the rain, but instead he did something nice for you, without asking for anything in return. He’d related to you. He’d let you in, barely, but it’s something.

And you have no idea what to make of it.

Polite small talk with Jungkook as you unlock the front doors is a decent distraction, but you wonder if he can tell that you’re not all the way there today. You set your bag on your desk, then circle around to take a seat, only half-listening as he continues to talk.

“Did you stay late last night?”

You swear your heart stops beating. “What?”

He shrugs, like it’s an obvious question. “There’s the big overseas thing today. I’m sure you had a bunch of stuff to prep. Hopefully it wasn’t too late of a night?”

“No.” The word comes out harsher than you mean it to. You’re not quite sure why your body is suddenly doing emotional alchemy, taking your fear of being caught and somehow turning it into anger. “It wasn’t,” you say firmly.

Jungkook makes a face, like he knows he’s touched a nerve but can’t figure out why. “Okay. That’s good.”

You don’t respond— you just try to control your breathing, try to will your heart to quit racing as you start up your laptop and pretend to suddenly be engrossed in it.

“Well,” he tries again after a moment’s pause. “I guess I’ll see you at the presentation thing.”

“Okay,” you answer, your voice a little softer this time, but you’re still too scared to look away from your screen. When you do eventually work up the courage, he’s already gone.

Before you even have the chance to glance back down, like some universal joke at your expense, the front door of the office is pushed open, and Yoongi steps through. Annoyed as you are, you can only be grateful that his entrance didn’t overlap with Jungkook’s question. You probably would have died of embarrassment on the spot.

Yoongi’s usual dark sunglasses are nowhere to be found today, and he’s in nice clothes for the presentation, a button-down and dress pants, his hair styled. He does still have a death grip on a large iced coffee, but that’s to be expected, especially given the fact that he’s in a lot earlier than is typical for him.

It’s only when his eyes snap over to you for the briefest of seconds that you see the dark shadows sunken deep beneath them, weighing heavy on his face.

Yoongi’s gaze moves back to the hallway in front of him as quickly as it alighted on you. You open your mouth before you even understand why you’re doing it.

“Yoongi?”

He stops dead in his tracks and blinks at you a few times, clearly tired, clearly not expecting the interruption. “Yeah?”

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

His mouth pulls into a flat line as he shakes his head. “Nerves. It’s why I don’t do stuff like this. Unless forced.”

You nod, unsure of what to say— or why you even asked. “Oh. Well, uh. Good luck.”

Yoongi lifts his coffee in a parting gesture, then disappears toward his lab without another word.

You try to focus on your work, to shove the interaction to the back of your mind with everything else you’re avoiding, but the screen seems to blur in front of you, until you finally push back from your desk with an exasperated sigh. The emails can wait.

Maybe, you consider, it would be good to stretch your legs. You can head into the presentation room early to set up before everyone arrives, and make sure everything is working for the several hours of agenda lined up for the morning.

Setting your shoulders back, you grab your things and make your way down the hallway. The thought feels like a good idea until you push the door open and encounter a severe case of deja vu.

Yoongi glances up from his laptop at the front of the room, blearily rubbing at one eye with the heel of his hand. “Is it time already?”

You hover in the threshold, unsure. “Uh— I mean, not quite. I’m early. I can go, if you want.”

He shrugs, busying himself with something on his computer screen. “You’ll have to hear it anyway. Can I just run through it one more time?”

You take a few tentative steps forward, dropping your bag and laptop on the table, right where you sat to watch him the night before. The energy in the room feels entirely different now, and your stomach is twisted into knots that you can’t manage to breathe deep enough to untangle.

“Yeah, fine.” You pause, unable to help yourself. “Just… don’t expect the same treatment as last night.”

Yoongi huffs a dark laugh. “I wasn’t.”

Taking a seat at the table, you set about your admin duties and try to ignore the way Yoongi mumbles over his presentation as he taps through his slides at the front of the room. There’s only so much you can do without bothering him, and you fly through those tasks all-too quickly. You drag your bottom lip between your teeth as you glance back up at Yoongi, and then you inhale to steady yourself before you speak.

“Can you turn on the mic?”

His head snaps up, caught off guard. “Hmm?”

“I need to make sure the mic is working.” Yoongi’s gaze flits to the podium’s built in-microphone, then back to you as he presses the switch to turn it on. “Say something into it,” you instruct. “It doesn’t matter what.”

Yoongi’s eyes move back to the microphone, and it’s like you can see the delay in his brain from lack of sleep. You don’t know what you were expecting— maybe a half-assed ‘check, check’, at worst some sexual or smart-ass remark. Instead, he leans in far closer than is necessary, until his mouth is nearly touching the microphone as he whispers into it.

“Sugaaaaa.”

The live demo of the notorious producer tag that intros all of his tracks is so ridiculous, so unexpected, that you can’t help it. You burst out laughing, clapping a hand over your mouth a few seconds too late. “What the fuck was that?!” The question is only muffled slightly by your palm.

Yoongi’s head drops forward, his dark hair falling in his face, and you can see his shoulders shaking with laughter, too. “Sorry,” he manages with a gasp for breath, tilting back up to speak into the microphone, which you can now actually tell is working properly. “I’m so fucking tired, I think I’m going insane.”

You uncover your mouth as you shake your head in disbelief.

The sudden loud buzz of your phone against the conference room table makes you jump, and you quickly reach for it, for fear it might be an emergency text from your boss that needs immediate attention. Your eyes widen in surprise when you see it’s actually from Jungkook.

Presentation thing? Wanna sit together?

You read the words again and again, and a strange feeling rises up in your chest that you can’t quite name. As you stare down at your phone, you hear the distinct sound of Yoongi’s laptop shutting, and then his voice, no longer amplified by the microphone when he mutters to himself, “Fuck it. It’s as good as it’s gonna get.”

Feeling suddenly overwhelmed, you glance up at Yoongi again, then back down at the text. With a final hard swallow, you turn your phone on silent and flip it over on the table, leaving Jungkook’s question unanswered.

The time is close enough now that you get to your feet to prop open the presentation room door, and then your colleagues quickly start to file into the space, filling in the seats around the large U-shaped arrangement of tables. It’s everything you can do to keep your expression neutral as your brain unhelpfully reminds you that Yoongi fucked you on one of these tables last night.

You try to manage something close to a smile when your boss enters with the team from the American office in tow, and you proceed to exchange pleasantries with them and fake laugh at their jokes when he introduces you.

As you’re listening diplomatically to one of them drone on about the flight to Seoul, you spot Jungkook slip in the door out of the corner of your eye, and it takes extra effort to keep the smile plastered on your face. The seats on either side of yours have long since been taken, and you glance over to see his eyes sweep the room before he moves to take an open spot at the far end. 

You watch unabashedly now as he leans back in his chair, tilting to one side to pull his phone out of his pocket, and you can only pray he’s watching TikToks with the sound off rather than checking for a text that’s never coming.

When your manager repeats a question meant for you, your attention snaps back to the group. Sure your smile is nearly a grimace now, you apologize and blame the distraction on needing more coffee, which is enough to earn you a polite chuckle.

Eventually the room takes their seats as your manager moves to the front to start the presentation. You stay focused on copying down minutes as various speakers go through the company’s financials for the previous four quarters, the roadmap for the coming years, and a summary of top-level talent that the label has signed or directly worked with.

The discussion of talent leads smoothly into a quick review of achievements and nominations, and then Yoongi steps to the front of the room.

As he launches in, you can’t get over the stark difference between the Yoongi you’re used to and the one standing behind the podium in front of you. The man with the easy, confident, cocky demeanor is nowhere to be found, replaced with someone who barely looks up from his slides and speaks at a rushed pace, like he’s trying to get the words out as fast as possible. You bite down firmly on your bottom lip and try not to react at all.

He’s nearly halfway done now, and just as you’re thinking he might make it through the whole thing unscathed, Yoongi stumbles slightly over his words. It’s not a lot, a little slip-up that the rest of the room probably didn’t even notice, but you see a momentary flash of panic in his dark eyes. And then those eyes snap up to meet yours, and your stomach drops.

The memory of the two of you in this room, the thought of what you’d be doing to him if you were alone again, the way you could so easily make his voice shake and his knees threaten to buckle with just your mouth— it’s all too much.

You can’t help yourself as the smile you’ve been desperately trying to hide starts to spread across your face, equal parts supportive and indecent.

There’s a beat of silence, not long enough for anyone to think anything of it, and then Yoongi drops your gaze as quickly as he found it. He squints back down at his computer screen, and though he leans away from the microphone, you don’t miss the unmistakable sound of him clearing his throat.

“Excuse me,” he murmurs, and then he picks up where he left off, managing to get back on track without further issue.

You desperately try to ignore the warm flush of heat that creeps up your neck as Yoongi goes through the rest of his slides.

Time seems to speed by in a rush after his presentation, and you barely manage to keep up with the barrage of content. You’re more than grateful when your manager inevitably wraps up the session, reminding everyone to head to a nearby restaurant for a team lunch immediately following.

As the room begins to empty, you take your time finishing up the notes and firing them off to the broader audience. When you finally close your laptop and look up, you realize nearly everyone has left now, though as fate would have it, Yoongi has also lagged behind. He’s standing hunched over the conference room table as he types something into his own laptop.

You try not to overthink it as you hug your computer to your chest and take a few steps toward him. “Yoongi?”

He hums a response, and when he glances up at you, the bags under his eyes are just as prominent as before.

“Are you, uh— coming to lunch?”

He rolls his eyes, like the question is ridiculous. “I can’t. I’m drowning in shit I put off for the last two days.”

His words make you take a step back, and you immediately feel stupid for asking. Why do you even care what he does? “Right. Got it.”

You don’t wait around for him to say anything else, you just shove your laptop into your purse and pull the strap over your shoulder as you head for the exit.

Largely preoccupied with getting away from Yoongi, you don’t pay much attention to your surroundings as you slip out of the room, and you only get a few steps down the hall before a voice behind you nearly makes you jump out of your skin. “There you are.”

“Jesus!” you gasp, whipping around to find Jungkook leaning up against the glass wall of the conference room, his arms crossed over his chest. “You fucking scared me, Baby Goth.”

“Sorry.” He gives a shy smile, nose scrunching slightly like he’s embarrassed. “I wasn’t gonna let you ditch me again. Lunch?”

You do your best to match his smile. “Let’s go. I’m starving.” 

The two of you meet up with the rest of the team at a restaurant well out of your price range, and Jungkook babbles freely as he stuffs his face, seemingly unbothered by how little you have to say in return. The chatter of so many people at the long table is a white noise that you can’t focus on any part of, and Jungkook’s usual comforting presence feels overwhelming today, nearly stifling. You push food back and forth on your plate but barely eat, your stomach uneasy for reasons you don’t want to dwell on.

“Min Suga seemed like he didn’t even want to be up there.” The mention of Yoongi’s pseudonym is enough to snap you out of your haze.

“Huh?” You glance up at Jungkook, your eyes widening slightly, and you force yourself to eat another bite of pasta as he continues.

“I don’t know, he went through it so fast. Guess it makes sense. He hates anything that drags him out of his lab, right?”

You aimlessly twirl your fork against your plate, around and around. When you first started this job, you would have agreed with Jungkook without a second thought. Laughed about it, even. Now you’re not so sure. You don’t want to add to this growing sense of friction, the weird energy in the air, but the words come out anyway.

“He was nervous, Jungkook.”

When you meet his gaze again, Jungkook looks confused, and you instantly regret saying anything at all.

“What, did he tell you that?”

You nod as you take another bite of food to avoid having to explain yourself.

Jungkook’s eyes drift down to the table between you, distant, his brow furrowed like he’s suddenly doing some complex mental math. “When?”

“Last night,” you murmur through your mouthful. “We both worked late. I helped him practice a little.” The explanation was meant to make the situation sound less incriminating, but somehow you feel like it only makes it worse. You hope Jungkook can’t tell how warm your face is starting to get.

When he finally speaks, his voice is low, his gaze still not meeting yours. “I thought you said you didn’t stay late. When I asked you this morning.”

A rush of adrenaline hits your bloodstream so hard it makes you dizzy. “I—I didn’t. It wasn’t that late. Like an hour max. Didn’t seem worth mentioning.” You set your fork down, quickly hiding your hands in your lap so Jungkook can’t see the way they’ve started to tremble.

His only response is a slow nod, and then he goes quiet in a way that’s rare for him. It feels like an eternity of sitting and eating in silence before either of you says another word.

The conversation eventually picks back up again, and when it does, you try to tell yourself you’re just imagining that it’s slightly more stilted than before.

As you and Jungkook trail after the rest of your coworkers on the walk back to the office, you trade a few more polite questions about work-related projects, and then you fall quiet again, seemingly out of things to say. It’s a few stretches of city blocks, and then you see Jungkook’s head tip up, and he outright sniffs the air.

You can’t help but laugh a little, mostly because he looks like a dog, and then you smell it too. The unmistakable aroma coming from the street cart up ahead. You smile softly to yourself as you both slow to pass it, ogling rice cakes and fish cakes simmering in a pan of spicy sauce.

“God,” Jungkook groans appreciatively. “I would absolutely destroy some tteokbokki right now if I didn’t think I’d literally explode.”

“This is what happens when you help yourself to thirds every time you eat,” you chide him with a giggle, and the two of you nod to the vendor before you continue on toward the office. You only take a few more steps before you falter, and Jungkook turns back when he notices you’ve stopped.

“What’s up? Did you want to get some?”

You don’t know what makes you lie. “Uh, no. I, uh— I just realized, I think I left my scarf back at the restaurant. I’m gonna run back, but don’t worry about waiting for me. You’ve got work stuff.”

Jungkook shrugs, like it’s not a big deal. “It’s cool, I can go with you.”

“No, that’s okay,” you say, firmly enough to make it very obvious you don’t want company. Maybe a little too firm, because Jungkook blinks, like he’s taken aback. Your stomach twists with a feeling that you imagine must be similar to having just kicked a puppy.

“Oh. Alright, well. I’ll see you later, then.” He pauses for a moment, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, and then he turns on his heel and keeps walking in the direction of the office. You worry your bottom lip between your teeth as you watch Jungkook’s retreating form until he disappears down the city block.

You try not to overthink the interaction as you retrace your steps to the cart, then head back to the office with a takeout bag gripped in one hand. Thankfully you don’t have to fumble for another lie of an excuse, because you don’t run into Jungkook or anyone else in your straight shot from the entrance to the door of Yoongi’s lab. Quick as you can, you punch in the lock code, then push the handle down and slip inside.

It takes you a minute to process what you’re seeing as you shut the door behind you. Yoongi’s arms are folded on the desk in front of him, and he’s slumped forward, head buried in the crook of his elbow. For a brief moment your heart drops, and then you take a tentative step closer and realize there’s no shake or shudder to his shoulders, only the smooth rise and fall of deep, steady breathing.

He’s asleep.

You close the remaining distance until you can reach out and gently place a hand on his back. “Yoongi?”

He inhales sharply, and you quickly pull your hand away like you’ve just been burned. Tilting his head to one side, he cracks an eye open, mumbling something that sounds like a question but is otherwise fully incoherent.

“You fell asleep,” you say dumbly, and Yoongi slowly sits up with a grunt, his eyes squinting, clearly readjusting to the room around him. He leans back to stretch, and several places in his back and shoulders crack impressively loudly.

“Fuck,” he sighs, voice strained, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “Why are you in here?”

“I brought you lunch,” you murmur, lifting the takeout bag for him to witness. He frowns at it, then up at you, like he can’t quite figure out what’s happening.

“Thanks,” he eventually manages. “You can just leave it. I’m nowhere near done with all my—”

You cut him off before he can finish. “Go home, Yoongi.”

The look of slack-jawed confusion on his face is enough to nearly make you laugh. “What?”

“I said go home.”

His brow furrows. “You’re not my boss.”

“I’m not saying it as your boss,” you sigh. “But you need to eat, and sleep. This isn’t healthy.”

Yoongi huffs a little, exasperated. “That’s easy for you to say, but I have so much stupid admin stuff to get caught up on.” He gestures halfheartedly to a massive to-do list pulled up on his monitor, one he’s barely a quarter of the way through.

Suppressing the urge to roll your eyes, you hum, feigning thought. “If only you had someone who could help with that. Some kind of… Admin Bitch.”

The comment must catch him off-guard, because he outright laughs. “You know, I still haven’t changed your contact name.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Then you should go before I question why I’m being nice to you. I’ll leave a note for tomorrow with anything I can’t figure out for myself. Assuming you trust my ability to do my job.” As if to indicate that you are no longer open to discussing the subject, you shove the takeout bag into Yoongi’s chest, and he wraps both arms around it, still looking entirely dazed.

But to your surprise, he doesn’t fight you, just slowly rolls his desk chair back and gets to his feet. You watch carefully as he shifts the bag of food to one arm, then grabs his work bag and slings it over his shoulder. “I, uh— thanks.”

You wave a hand as if to tell him not to mention it, and then you plop down into his chair and get to work, barely phased by the sound of the door clicking shut when he leaves.

~*~

As you settle in at your desk the next morning, it dawns on you how close the Grammys have started to loom, made abundantly clear by the overwhelming amount of prep you find yourself launched into. You don’t think you look up from your screen once, not even bothering to greet coworkers as they push through the doors, until the muted tap of something being placed on your desk startles you.

You see the cup of coffee first, and when you glance up expecting a pair of Baby Star Candy eyes, you instead find Yoongi hovering at the edge of your desk, like he’s not sure what he’s doing there. You make zero attempts to hide your total shock at whatever the fuck is going on in this moment.

He looks— good. Fresh-faced, like he managed to actually get some sleep, a little less gaunt. Even his expression seems weirdly pleasant, something you might mistake for happiness if you thought that he was capable of such an emotion.

There’s a crinkling sound, and when he gently sets a small wax paper pastry bag on your desk next to the coffee, you’re sure that you’ve overslept your alarm and are in the depths of a wild, ridiculous dream. It’s the only way any of this can be happening.

You blink up at him as you hesitantly reach for the bag, like you’re scared it might bite you.

“It’s maple,” he says as you slowly pick it up and investigate the contents. It’s still warm. “I asked for the most disgustingly sweet thing they had.”

Too overwhelmed, you set the pastry bag back down wordlessly. As you do, it’s only now that your eyes focus on the letters “AB” sketched in black marker on the side of the coffee cup, where a barista would typically write your name.

Yoongi’s eyes must be watching yours carefully, because he huffs a laugh as he sees realization dawn over your face. “Making them actually write Admin Bitch seemed a bit much.”

You can’t manage to find a laugh to match his, can only sit there, shell-shocked. When you look up again, he’s already walking backwards in the direction of his lab, but his eyes are still on you. “I’d tell you not to tell anyone, but I don’t think they’d believe you even if you did.”

And just like that, he’s gone again.

You remain unconvinced that both of his gifts aren’t secretly poisoned, but your desperate need for a fresh hit of caffeine overwhelms any other emotion. Carefully, you lift the cup to your lips and take a sip— it’s not scalding, but still perfectly hot, and your eyes widen as the flavor hits your tongue.

Two cream, three sugar. Exactly how you like it.

Before you’ve even had time to swallow, Jungkook is suddenly rounding the corner from the opposite direction, and you have to make a conscious effort not to choke.

He slows to a stop, and you watch him take in the coffee cup clutched between your hands like a lifeline. “Hey! You seriously snuck out for coffee without me?” His tone is mock-hurt, but you can’t help wondering whether it’s entirely put on.

Your gaze drops back down to the cup. “Sorry, JK. Someone else picked this up for me.”

Jungkook doesn’t pry into your vague statement, but a sinking feeling in your stomach tells you that maybe he doesn’t have to.

~*~

It’s Saturday night by the time your schedule aligns with Jimin’s for a night out, and given that it’s the last time you’ll see him before you leave for Los Angeles, you manage to guilt him into driving. The bar you choose is a shitty dive nowhere near your office, where you’re certain you won’t have to worry about any accidental encounters.

Or any encounters at all, as it turns out. The place is dead.

“I think we’re single-handedly keeping them open tonight,” Jimin murmurs with a grimace as you grab a pair of stools.

The bartender pours you each two shots and two beers, then returns to their side work at the far end of the bar in an apparent attempt to give the two of you some privacy.

It’s only once you’ve had your first shot and are halfway through the accompanying beer that you’re able to speak the words aloud: “I had sex in the office again.”

Jimin glances up at the ceiling, as if asking for strength, and you recount the full story mostly to the wood grain in front of you, unable to look your best friend in the face while you catch him up on everything.

When you fill in the final details, Jimin nearly spits his drink out. “Suga really hatefucked you on a conference table?! I need to go buy some lottery tickets.” He throws back his second shot, and there’s a smug smile on his face as he swallows it down. “God, I love being psychic.”

You shove an elbow into his ribs. “Listen. I don’t know what’s fucking happening anymore, Mochi. Sometimes he’s insufferable but now sometimes we apparently mildly tolerate and are even nice to each other. Like, coffee and a pastry nice.” You smack your hand on the bar for emphasis as you repeat the words. “Coffee. And. A. Pastry.”

“So,” Jimin clasps his hands together as he surveys you. There’s a look on his face like he’s clearly expecting you to draw some conclusion from all of this, but it seems to have entirely escaped you. “What have we learned?”

You drop your head down on the bar with a resounding thud. “We’ve learned that Min Yoongi is ruining my life.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Voice muffled slightly, you groan. “Don’t make me say it louder.”

“No, what did you just say?” You lift your head up to look at him, and his expression is deadly serious, his eyes sharp and focused. “Min Yoongi? I know Min Yoongi.”

You give him the same look right back. “You what?”

“We were trainees together. I— wait, Min Yoongi is Suga the producer? Really?!” He scrambles for his phone and you just sit there, dumbfounded.

“How are you only now telling me that you know him?”

Jimin glances up, incredulous. “Um, hi, because you literally never fucking told me Suga is Min Yoongi?”

You roll your eyes. “Please, surely I have said his name to you at least once.”

It’s Jimin’s turn to smack the bar, and he does so loudly. “Run those tapes back, ma’am! We have always called him Suga.”

“You’re telling me you’ve never even Googled him?!”

He makes a face like the mere suggestion is ridiculous. “I am an adult, with a job and a very needy boyfriend. Your chaos already monopolizes too much of my time.”

The search on his phone loads, and you watch Jimin tap and scroll slowly, mouth dropping open in disbelief. “Min Yoongi is Suga. Wow. I think I need a minute.”

Jimin’s earlier words finally catch up to you, and you finish the last of your first beer before you dare ask the question. “Yoongi was really a trainee?”

“He was,” Jimin confirms, gaze still locked on his phone. “Obviously he didn’t debut either. He left a few months before I did. I always wondered what happened to him.”

“What was he like?” Your voice comes out soft, a little unsure.

His eyes widen, staring off unfocused as he searches through his memory. “I mean, we weren’t super close, he’s a few years older than me. But it doesn’t sound like that much has changed if I think about what you’ve told me. He was quiet, not too personable. Worked hard. Didn’t really seem that close to anybody. I think maybe he had a difficult home life?”

Your stomach drops a little as Jimin pauses, choosing his words. “Like I guess his parents weren’t very supportive. So I think he felt like he had a lot to prove, and had really high standards for himself. But he obviously loved music. Makes sense that he ended up a producer. It’s like me and dance, right?” He picks up his beer with a shrug, staring thoughtfully down at the amber liquid. “Man. Those years were tough.”

As Jimin takes a sip of his drink and then continues on about his trainee days, your head starts to spin. You throw back your second shot in hopes that it might help.

You wish you could go back and unlearn this information, unsay the name Min Yoongi. Because you don’t want to think about him. You don’t want to know that Min Yoongi gets nervous about public speaking, that he likes his coffee iced, that he can’t say no to street cart tteokbokki, that he used to be a trainee, that he worked an unpaid job in Daegu, that he had a disapproving family and never felt good enough and maybe still doesn’t.

Min Yoongi was so simple when you first met him, back when he was a two-dimensional character, the antagonist of your TV show life, your enemy. But now he’s none of those things. He’s a real, flawed, complicated person, and your feelings for him are confusing and overwhelming. And you deeply do not want to think about your feelings. You don’t want to examine them, don’t want to hold them up to the light for fear of what you might find. It occurs to you in this moment that you don’t want to think about anything at all.

With a sigh, you scoot your chair back from the bar, then get to your feet.

“What are you doing?” Jimin interrupts himself to ask as you dig your phone out of your purse.

You’re doing the only thing that makes sense. “I’m gonna go fuck him,” you say, resigned, and then you make your way out the front door of the bar as you pull up Yoongi’s contact in your phone.

It’s only as the line starts to ring that you realize you don’t exactly have a location in mind. Sex in a bar bathroom is an experience you have no desire to repeat, and the thought of Yoongi seeing your shithole apartment makes your drinks threaten a return appearance.

You’re starting to consider that maybe you should just hang up and forget the idea entirely when Yoongi’s voice startles you.

“Uh, hi?”

“Hi.”

There’s a pause as you realize you didn’t actually plan how to have this conversation, and then you and Yoongi speak in tandem.

“I was just wondering—”

“Is there a reason you—”

“Shut up,” you snap, agitated by your own awkwardness. “What are you doing right now?”

Yoongi laughs darkly into the phone. “I’m sorry, is this a booty call?”

“Answer the question, asshole.”

There’s a slight shifting sound, like he’s making himself comfortable. “Nothing. Drinking.”

“Great, same here.”

Another pause, and you swear you can hear Yoongi slow blinking, can see the stupid smirk on his face when you close your eyes. “Would you like to come over, then?”

“Yes,” you answer, trying to sound more confident than you feel, and then you falter slightly. You’re not about to ask Jimin to drive you— you don’t trust him enough to stay in the car and behave, not when he’s been drinking. “Uh, are you by any chance near a bus stop?”

Yoongi doesn’t even try to suppress his snort of laughter. “I’m not. But I can send a car.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you say quickly, trying to think. “I can figure something—”

“Please,” Yoongi cuts you off. “If you’re really calling me begging to get fucked, the least I can do is provide the transportation. Just send me your location.”

“Fine,” you concede, and your voice comes out harsh. “But to be clear, I am not begging.”

He hums a low note, like he’s thinking it over. “Not yet,” he ultimately responds. “See you soon.”

You swallow hard as the call disconnects.

The time it takes for the car to arrive is just enough for you to slip back inside and finish your beer, and Jimin’s eyes narrow with frustration when you’re unable to explain yourself.

“Didn’t you just complain that this man was ruining your life?”

“Yes,” you retort. “And then I thought it over, and I decided that’s my job.” Your phone buzzes with the notification that the car is outside, and you quickly swig the last of your drink. “Bye.”

Jimin’s face twists like he’s holding further commentary back, which you didn’t think he was capable of doing without combusting. “Alright, babygirl,” he finally sighs, defeated. “Call me if you need saving.”

“I always do,” you deadpan as you lean in to press a kiss to his cheek.

~*~

Yoongi doesn’t say anything when he opens the door for you, just nods his head to the interior of his apartment to gesture you inside, letting the door swing wider so you can step past him. He shuts it again as you slip your heels off, and it takes you a second to adjust to your true height difference, the fact that you have to look a little further up to meet his gaze now.

“Want a drink?” is his delayed greeting, and you shrug.

“Yeah, okay. Just whatever you’re having.”

Without another word, he turns and heads down the hallway, and you follow after him, taking in your surroundings as you move further inside. It’s only now that it occurs to you how rich he must be. His place is identical to any one of the swanky, million-dollar Hannam apartments of which you’ve spent thousands of hours watching YouTube tours. You try to keep your expression neutral as you follow him into the living room, but it’s hard not to be impressed.

Yoongi crosses the room to a mini-bar, built into the far wall and softly backlit with inset LEDs. You pull your bottom lip into your mouth as you hover nervously for a second, then finally choose to drop down onto the large, L-shaped couch, setting your purse on the floor next to you.

“Thoughts—” When Yoongi’s voice breaks the silence, you start a little, not expecting it. “—on single malt whiskey?” He turns over his shoulder, and you shrug back at him.

“Never met one I didn’t like.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up, just barely. “Alright.” You watch as he grabs a dark green bottle off the shelf, coating the bottom of a glass with the amber liquid inside, then just barely topping up what must be his own drink. He crosses back to the couch, hands you yours, then drops down a respectable distance away from you with a sigh of effort.

The atmosphere is certainly different from what you’d expected, and Yoongi must be able to tell you’re a little on edge, not sure what to do or why you thought coming here was a good idea.

He glances over at you as he swirls the contents of his glass. “Not feeling up for much small talk tonight. Sorry.”

“That’s fine,” you say quickly. “We don’t have to talk.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you grit your teeth in anticipation of the smug smile, the cocky smirk at your unintended double meaning, but it never comes. Yoongi stays just as he is, slouched forward, his eyes unfocused, like he’s got a thousand thoughts running through his mind at once.

You turn sideways on the couch so you can look over the back of it and out of the large picture window behind you, where the city is alive in a blur of light and color, bracketed by the dark swath of the Han River.

Yoongi’s whiskey is strong but smooth, tastes like the bottle probably cost more than the entire bar-tab you and Jimin rang up tonight, and you sip it slowly. The thought of your best friend sparks something in your mind— you find yourself speaking again in spite of your previous statement.

“I just found out that you know my best friend. Park Jimin.”

At this, Yoongi looks up, clearly stunned. “No shit?” You nod, taking another pull from your drink, and he shakes his head. “I haven’t heard that name in years. How is he?”

“He’s good,” you murmur, the sharp taste of alcohol lingering on the back of your tongue. “He’s really good. He actually just performed in the concert I took Jungkook to.”

Yoongi pauses, glass halfway to his lips. “What group is he in? For someone in the industry I am atrocious at keeping up with this shit.”

“Oh, he’s not, he’s just a back-up dancer now. He never debuted.” 

Yoongi nods slowly. “Well. Makes two of us.”

Your chest starts to tighten a little— you’re weirdly nervous to talk to him about this. It feels like uncharted territory. “I can’t believe you were a trainee.”

He leans back, resting his free arm over the back of the couch, fingers tapping idly. “I can’t either, most days. It was a long time ago. Feels like it happened to somebody else.”

Torn between deep curiosity and not wanting to pry, you stare down at the liquid swirling in your glass and leave it up to Yoongi. To your surprise, he keeps talking.

“So what did Jimin tell you about me?”

The unexpected question makes you laugh a little. “Uh… I don’t know. Said you sound like you’re still the same as you were back then. Keeping to yourself and working a lot.”

You don’t know if you should repeat everything, but the liquor loosens your tongue. “He said your parents weren’t very supportive.”

You glance up to see Yoongi shake his head, matter-of-fact. “They were not. So you can imagine how well they took it when I quit.” Your heart sinks at the thought. “Probably put a chip on my shoulder, if I want to be introspective about it. Explains the workaholic tendencies, maybe.”

He takes a longer sip of his drink this time, chasing his swallow with a grimace as he stares at the floor. “It’s funny. I always feel like I have to do better, even now. I get obsessed with work because it’s better than being depressed. And most of the time it feels like there’s nothing else to do anyway. I just work myself to death because it’s my only reason to stay alive.”

Your stomach drops sharply, and you can’t help but look over at him as he continues, feeling thoroughly unprepared for this sudden insight into the inner workings of Min Yoongi.

“It doesn’t even matter what milestones I hit, the fame, the fortune, whatever. I’m going to the fucking Grammys next week and it still doesn’t feel good enough.” His eyes flicker up to find yours, and his voice is quieter now. “Even if I win, I know it won’t. How sad is that?”

“You sound like my dad,” you mutter into your glass, and then your gaze snaps back to Yoongi as you realize what you’ve just said.

He looks as surprised as you feel, and you steady yourself as you take a swig of your drink and swallow it down. Fuck it. If he can overshare, so can you. “Work always came first, before family, before everything. And you know what happened? He dropped dead in his office before he even turned fifty. They said it was probably stress.”

There’s a flash of something in Yoongi’s eyes, but he doesn’t try to interrupt you.

“It makes me so mad,” you say, and you will yourself not to get emotional, your grip on your drink tightening slightly. “Because he worked so fucking hard thinking that once he got to a certain place, he’d be happy. Just a little more, then he could relax. But he never got there. He worked non-stop his whole life and then he fucking died. That’s it.

“And you know what’s really fucked up?” You don’t wait for Yoongi to respond— you can’t stop it all from coming out now, like a tap turned on high.

“People say grief makes you resilient, that it makes you stronger, or kinder, that we go through these things and they’re hard but you learn from them and grow or whatever the fuck. And I don’t feel like any of that shit is true for me. My dad died, and I just got worse.” A self-deprecating laugh flutters out around your words. “I’m selfish. I’m lazy. I make terrible choices. I deeply cannot fucking stand myself, if I’m honest with you. Jimin is like the one friend I still keep in touch with who knew me when my dad was alive, because everyone else just… didn’t know what to do with me. And I don’t blame them.

“And it makes me feel like such a fucking asshole, because he died, and I’m sitting here complaining about me. It’s like I don’t even miss him as much as I just miss… the way things used to be. The person I used to be.” You let yourself take a breath, but the final thought, the part you don’t usually say out loud, slips out with it. “It’s like she died, too.”

There’s a long pause that feels like an eternity, and you realize your heart is racing in your chest. You lean back against the couch with a sigh of frustration, too embarrassed at your own word vomit to do anything but stare at the stupidly high ceiling. You’re so wrapped up in the rush of saying it all— it’s been a while since you’ve gone this deep with anyone— that it takes you a second to notice that Yoongi is laughing softly.

“Wow. And here I thought you were just a slacker.”

The words make you glance over at him. You haven’t divulged these feelings to many people, but nearly everyone you’ve told has responded the same: awkward apologies, shitty words of affirmation you didn’t ask for, waxing poetic bullshit lies about how you’re not a bad person. A road paved with good intentions, things meant to console you that only make you want to scream. 

But Yoongi gives you none of that. He just nods, like he understands.

“Well,” you counter, trying not to let the shock read on your face. “I thought you were just an asshole.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I am an asshole. I’ll own that.” He smirks into his glass as he takes another sip of his drink. “Do you want to know something?”

“What?”

He suddenly pauses, like he’s not sure how to word it, like he maybe regrets asking the question at all. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so hesitant before. “You have to not make a big deal about it.”

“Okay,” you say simply. You’re willing to return the favor.

“The night I left the studio door unlocked, and there was the break-in,” Yoongi starts, his thumb fiddling with the ring on his index finger. Something twists in your stomach, an intuition you can’t explain that makes it immediately clear to you what he’s about to say. “I wasn’t thinking about locking up that night because I... was planning to kill myself.”

It’s like all the air is sucked out of the room, and you will yourself not to react, gripping your glass until your knuckles blanch. Your eyes drop to the floor as you try to process the weight of his words.

“But you didn’t,” you reply dumbly.

“No, I didn’t. I walked up and down the bridge over the river for a long time. Probably an hour, maybe more, I don’t know.” You look up to the window again, tracing the inkblot snake of the river in the distance.

“I thought about it, and then I decided to go home. I thought that maybe I could give it just one more day and see what happened. And then when I got to work the next day, I was in such deep shit about the break-in, I felt like everyone would blame themselves if I did it after that. Like they’d think they were too hard on me.” He laughs bitterly to himself. “Like I’m not always the one who is hardest on myself.”

“Yoongi,” you breathe. “I don’t know what to say.”

He shrugs. “You don’t have to say anything. It just feels nice to tell someone.”

There’s a heavy silence between you, and heat rushes to your face as the words leave your mouth before you can stop them. “I’m glad you didn’t do it.”

He glances over at you, brows pinched together like he doesn’t believe you. “You hate me.”

“I do not!” The insistence in your voice surprises even you. In an attempt to ground yourself, you press your palm to the side of your drink and try to focus on the feeling, the cool surface against your flushed skin. “I mean, I definitely did. But now, I don’t know. Would I really be wasting my Saturday night here if I hated you?”

Yoongi pauses with his glass halfway to his mouth, and you can see him fighting to keep a smile off his face. “Look at me, you came over here to fuck and I turned it into a therapy session. Christ.”

With a final shake of his head, he downs the last of his drink in one swallow. “You want a tour?”

You follow Yoongi as he takes a winding path through the various rooms of his apartment, and you continue to sip at your drink, barely processing any of what he shows you. Your mind is still spinning from the conversation, and that paired with the cotton fuzz of strong liquor makes everything feel muted and far away.

As anticipated, the tour ends in his bedroom, which matches the rest of the place: sleek, minimally decorated, and bathed in the soft glow of inset strip lighting that runs the length of the ceiling.

When Yoongi sets his empty glass down on the dresser, you mirror him, then watch as he steps in to close the distance between you. As your eyes search his, you realize you’re once again caught between conflicting versions of Min Yoongi, still trying to reconcile the one you thought you knew with the person who just spilled his guts all over the living room floor. It feels impossible to hold the two of them together in your mind.

Up close, his smirk seems to soften. “You’re a lot shorter without those heels.”

Before you even understand what you’re doing, or why, you take his face in your hands and kiss him. It’s only a split second, your lips barely brushing over his, and then you quickly pull away, struck by the reality of what you’ve just done.

“Shit,” you breathe, dropping your hands and taking a step back. You stumble slightly as a hot wave of shame rushes up in your chest. “Sorry, I just—”

You don’t get to finish the thought, because Yoongi’s touch is sliding over the curve of your waist, and then he’s dragging you back toward him until his mouth finds yours again. The taste of whiskey lingers on his soft lips as they move against yours— you can’t help but whimper a little at how hungrily he kisses you. Like he’s wanted to do it for a long time.

The idea overwhelms you, and you pull away from him again, your lips still ghosting over his. “Yoongi.” You try your best to sound firm when you say his name, pressing one hand against his chest as you look up at him. “This… can’t mean anything.”

You can feel the heat of his breath when he laughs softly. “It doesn’t have to. I’ve been trying to tell you that.”

Too desperate for his mouth to want to argue, you decide to let him win. “Okay,” you sigh. Your hand is already tangled in his long, dark hair by the time his lips meet yours again.

“Get on the bed,” Yoongi murmurs between kisses, and you do as he says.

Moving backwards, you crawl up toward the pillows while Yoongi crosses the room to hit a panel on the wall, dimming the soft lights overhead until they’re barely there. He comes back to join you, strong hands wordlessly guiding you to lay down beneath him.

It’s weird to not be rushing through this: to feel like you can take your time as he kisses you again, as you lick into his mouth to roll your tongue over his, as one of his hands starts to creep under your skirt to gently rub up and down the length of your thigh.

The motions of his hand push the fabric higher and higher, until it’s as far up as it can go, and he leans back, clearly not satisfied.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, and you nod, sitting up to help as he pulls your dress up over your head.

It occurs to you a beat too late that you’ve never been this naked in front of him before, and your heartbeat flutters. “You too,” you murmur, pinching gently at the hem of Yoongi’s t-shirt, and he smirks as he reaches one hand between his shoulder blades to tug it off entirely.

You take him in as he drops the shirt to his bedroom floor: he’s broad-shouldered in a way you’ve never noticed under all his baggy clothes, with firm definition in the muscles of his chest and arms, and there’s a flush of warm glow to his pale skin.

As you blink up at Yoongi, more than dazed, you realize his eyes are roaming over your body, too. “Fuck,” he swears under his breath, and you resist the sudden urge to hide from his surveying gaze. “You have great tits.”

You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t that, and the surprise of it makes you laugh.

“Just for that, I’ll let you see them,” you say, unable to keep the teasing edge out of your voice as you lean forward to reach behind your back. Your hands shake a little more than you’d like as you fumble to undo your bra and toss it off the side of the bed to join everything else.

Your nipples stiffen quickly in the cool air of his room, and when you lay back again, Yoongi covers your body with his, the movement paired with a groan that’s nearly a growl. You can’t hold back your own soft sounds as his lips and tongue move down your neck, and it occurs to you now that there’s so much that the two of you have never done before. So many steps you skipped.

Like the way Yoongi cups one of your breasts in his hand, rolling his thumb over your nipple to earn a louder whine from you. “Shit,” you gasp as he does it again, his mouth still trailing kisses between the valley of your breasts.

“God,” Yoongi hisses against your skin. “You drive me fuckin’ crazy.”

With his thumb continuing to work at one nipple, he takes the other into his mouth, and you can feel the way your arousal is starting to soak through your panties as he sucks firmly at the stiff peak. You arch up into him, and then he’s shifting to roll your nipple between his teeth and tug, and you can’t help it— you flinch and yelp beneath him, overwhelmed.

He quickly pulls his mouth off of you, eyes flashing up to find yours. “Sensitive?”

You nod, face flushing, embarrassed. “A little bit of teeth is okay. Too much hurts.”

“Okay,” Yoongi answers softly. He licks up the underside of your breast to pull the bud of it back into his mouth, and the swirl of his tongue there soothes like an apology. When he just barely grazes his teeth across the sensitive peak, it’s enough to make you keen, your eyes rolling back as they flutter closed.

“Oh, fuck, just like that.”

With a wet noise, he pulls off to switch sides, repeating the firm suction, the drag of his tongue, the slightest brush of teeth. His fingers pinch gently at your other nipple, made slick with his spit, and he keeps working you lazily, unhurried, until your body writhes underneath his.

“Yoongi—” You try to catch your breath, and you run a hand through his hair to pull his mouth off of you. His jaw is still dropped open slightly when he meets your gaze. “Touch me.”

His lips pull into a smug smile. “Told you you’d beg.”

Your grip on his hair tightens in response. “Not begging. Ordering.”

Yoongi tuts gently, like he’s disappointed. “I don’t follow orders, sweetheart.”

As much as his teasing irritates you, a twin smile to his spreads across your face. “I’ll kill you,” you murmur, releasing your grip as he shifts back onto his knees.

It gets harder to focus on your bloodlust when his palms run over the curve of your hips, then press between your legs to part your thighs. “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he deadpans as his fingers slip under the waistband of your panties and he starts to drag the lace down your legs.

“That’s fucking dark,” you can’t help but laugh as you kick your underwear the rest of the way off.

Yoongi licks his lips, clearly distracted, and you spread yourself wider for him. “This pussy,” he grunts hoarsely, like he’s talking to himself more than you. “Gets so puffy when you want it. All tight inside, too.” He unexpectedly slaps the whole of his hand over your center, and you gasp, your hips jolting up.

You don’t even have time to respond before he’s pressing a finger into you, your cunt squeezing tight enough to reward him with an audible noise as he fucks it in and out. “Fuck,” you groan.

“You get this wet just from having your tits played with, huh?”

The thorough analysis makes you huff a laugh, because he’s not wrong, and it stutters into a moan when his thumb gently starts to circle your clit.

“God,” you manage to choke out, “you’re fucking chatty tonight.”

Yoongi smirks, and you’re not sure why until he speaks again, his voice now pinched in a clear imitation as he withdraws his hand. “I’m sorry, is there somewhere you’d rather I put my mouth?”

Your jaw drops in disbelief as he repeats your own stupid tease from weeks ago back to you. “I’ve changed my mind,” you snap, sitting up a little, and Yoongi glances at you, already in the midst of settling between your spread thighs. “I do still hate you.”

“That’s fine,” he says with a shrug, and then he leans in to lick a thick, wet stripe up your slit. His mouth is immediately dizzying, and you drop your head back against the pillow, overwhelmed.

It’s another thing you’ve never done before, at least not with Min Yoongi. As he repeats the motion over and over, lazy long strokes where he drags his tongue from your entrance all the way up to circle your clit, you mentally kick yourself for every missed chance, every opportunity to have his mouth that you didn’t take.

“What the fuck,” you breathe.

Yoongi just barely pulls off of you, close enough that a string of your arousal is still joined to his lower lip when he speaks. “You’re not the only one with good head game here.”

He dives in again like he’s determined to immediately prove his point, and you shove your legs open wider as he sucks your clit into his mouth.

As much as you’d like to bruise his ego, it’s impossible to keep yourself from moaning when he pairs the firm suction with the press of his index finger back into your tight heat. As wet as he’s made you, he’s easily able to slide a second in beside it now, and your nails scratch helplessly over the sheets beneath you.

“Yoongi,” you gasp as he curls his digits to beckon inside you, stroking over your front wall and easily finding the spot that makes you gush. He does it again and again, like a button press, working up more and more arousal until you’re dripping down his wrist.

Even the way he hums against your pussy sounds like a smirk, but you’re too far gone to care. Yoongi starts to flick his tongue steadily over your clit, matching the rhythm of his fingers pumping into your g-spot, and you can feel the pressure in your core building, a band pulled tight enough to snap.

Your hips buck up toward his mouth in an overwhelmed reflex, and Yoongi’s free hand is immediately there like he was expecting it. His palm presses firmly to your lower abdomen to hold you down and keep you there, and even that feels good too, renders you entirely helpless to his mouth and his hands as he takes you apart.

“Fuck,” you moan, loud and unabashed now. “Fuck, yes, I’m—”

The feeling overtakes you before you can get another word out, and you nearly sob as your orgasm rips through you, your whole body straining hard against Yoongi’s strong hand as he pins you to the bed. The extra pressure on your core pushes a rush of fluid out of your cunt, enough to soak the sheets beneath you as your muscles contract around Yoongi’s fingers.

“Oh my god,” he doesn’t even pull away to groan, and the low vibration of the words against your throbbing clit makes your thighs tremble.

There’s a wet smack of his lips and tongue as he finally relents, the pace of his fingers slowing as he continues to work you through the aftershocks. You desperately try to remember how to breathe as you start to come down.

Yoongi is a fucking sight when he leans back to look up at you: long hair falling in his face, eyes dark with lust, lips and chin slick with your arousal. “Did you seriously just squirt?”

It’s been a long time since anyone has managed to make it happen, and you suddenly feel overwhelmed in a different way. Still recovering, you can barely get the words out. “Shut up.”

“What the fuck do you mean, ‘shut up’? It was hot,” Yoongi grunts, and you’re at least grateful that you don’t have to have the ‘it’s not pee’ conversation right now. He ducks his head down again as he withdraws his fingers, and his tongue drags up the crux of your thighs to chase a few stray droplets. You squirm, oversensitive, your legs nearly snapping shut around his neck, and he takes the cue to back off with a soft laugh.

You’re too spent to fight it when he starts to manhandle you a little, palms slipping under your ass to drag you further down the bed until your hips are flush with his, then encouraging your knees to pull up toward your chest. “Think you can do that on my cock?”

The question sparks something in your core, the first lick of a freshly lit flame, and you prop yourself up on your forearms to better meet his gaze. “Make me.”

Yoongi’s appreciative smile is nearly a snarl, and he shifts lower on the bed to quickly strip out of his pants and boxers. You watch as he starts to crawl back up your body, anticipation tightening in your core, and then a flash of realization crosses his face and he freezes.

“Fuck,” he swears, and your stomach drops.

“What’s wrong?”

“I forgot I’m out of condoms.” Your eyes widen as his gaze meets yours. “Do you have any?”

You shake your head. “Not with me.”

A muscle in his jaw works as he exhales a resigned sigh, and you reach out, one hand finding his bicep to stop him before he leaves. You want it too much, bad idea or not. “Just… fuck me anyway.”

His expression goes deadly serious, and there’s a long moment before he responds. “You’re sure?”

You swallow hard as you nod, your eyes searching his. “Just pull out, okay?” You hate yourself for saying the final word before it even leaves your lips. “Please.”

“Okay,” Yoongi repeats back to you, and his hands press to your thighs again to encourage your knees up as he positions himself between your legs. There’s a feeling humming in the space between your bodies, like the reality of the situation has settled over the both of you. The reckless abandon of the previous moment is gone, replaced with something slower, more hesitant. Heavier.

With your eyes fixed on his face, you feel it first: the weight and warmth of his cock grinding over your slit, sliding easily with how soaked you are. You look down to see it for yourself, flushed dark and hard enough to leak precum, trailing a glossy sheen over your folds as Yoongi guides it against you, one hand gripped firmly to the base. He teases the head of his dick over your clit and keeps it there, and you’re still sensitive enough to whimper at the feeling.

“Please,” you repeat, and he’s too focused to be smug about it. He just nods as he drags his cock back down to your entrance, then braces one hand against your thigh and starts to push in.

You exhale softly at the welcome stretch, familiar made new at the lack of anything between you. You can feel it all: the thick swell of the head of his cock as he eases you open, how he throbs gently as your walls squeeze around him, so tight that you can even feel the prominent veins that trace down his shaft.

You’re still wet and getting wetter from the way he fills you up entirely, your arousal drenching the length of him when he bottoms out with an audible slick sound. His cock twitches, buried to the hilt, and even that barely-there motion is enough to coax a breathy moan from you.

“Shit,” Yoongi laughs softly, and the tinge of humility to his voice makes you glance up at him again. “Not gonna be able to go that fast. Feels too good.”

“It’s okay,” you murmur. “Just…”

The words won’t come. It would mean too much to say what you want, and this isn’t supposed to mean anything at all.

So you don’t say them: you just hook your arms over his shoulders and pull his mouth down to yours. “Just fuck me,” you murmur against his lips. He grunts a low note of appreciation as he kisses you, as he starts to drag his cock out of you just to fuck it back in again.

It’s shallow, it’s slow, it’s nothing like what you’re used to with Yoongi, but it’s good. Good enough to make your kisses sloppy when you trade open-mouthed breaths, good enough to make you tilt your head and slide the flat of your tongue over Yoongi’s unabashedly, like an earned reward.

He pushes your knees up a little more, thrusting deeper this time, and the new angle drags the head of his cock right over your g-spot. You whine at the heavy weight of him, the shudder that ripples through you in response, and he stays there, stroking steadily to rub that spot again and again until your eyes roll back in your head.

“Oh my god, Yoongi,” you gasp into his mouth.

“Shit,” he groans shakily, reaching one hand up to brush his hair out of his eyes. A few dark strands stick to the sheen of sweat on his forehead. “Squeezing me so fucking tight.”

Your arousal coils hot and fast inside of you as he keeps thrusting, and you have to break away from kissing him to tip your head back on the pillow and moan. “Fuck, please don’t stop, I’m—”

It feels like the final second before your climax when Yoongi pulls out, sitting back on his knees between your spread legs with a low groan. The sudden loss of his cock makes your walls clench at nothing, and you whine, petulant. “Yoongi!”

“Sorry,” he mutters, breathless. “Almost came.” You glance up to see him squeezing at the base of his cock with one hand, his chest heaving with effort. Your hips tilt up toward him, jealous.

“I miss your cock,” you whine, fucked close enough to be shameless.

“You’ll get it,” he retorts, and then you feel three of his fingers press in to fill the space he left behind inside of you. “Want to make you come again first.”

You keen as he starts to pump them, wrist angled just right to meet your g-spot each time. “Oh fuck, Yoongi.” The arousal in your core aches as he fucks you open on his fingers, and you can hear how wet you are in the soaked squelch of your needy pussy, can feel it leaking down your thighs.

His thumb brushes over your clit with every upstroke of his hand, and it makes you gasp, your moans starting to pitch higher. “Harder, baby, please, I’m so close.”

Too lost in the feeling, you barely notice when Yoongi laughs a little, but he does as you ask, and the way he pounds into you is just enough to work you over the edge. Waves of pleasure rip through your body as you come for a second time, squirting a little on his sheets again, your thighs shaking violently.

“That’s it, there you go, fuck,” Yoongi groans appreciatively at the sight.

You’ve just barely made it past your peak, still shuddering all over, when Yoongi withdraws his fingers to shove his cock back in again, and you keen.

He thrusts like a man close to his own end, fast and hard, his breath coming in ragged pants of effort and pleasure. Your pussy pulses around him, squeezing like a vice, so swollen with sensitivity that it really does feel like he’s splitting you open every time he fucks into you.

You moan unabashedly now and cling to him all over, legs bracketing his snapping hips, nails of one hand digging into his shoulder, the other hand tangled in his hair. Your cunt throbs and gushes around him as he strokes, and it still feels like you’re coming: you can’t tell if it’s an intensely drawn-out second orgasm or if the hot stretch of his cock worked you seamlessly into a third.

When he finally pulls out, you drop back against the bed with an exhausted groan, every inch of you fucked into oblivion. You can barely focus your eyes to watch as Yoongi shoves his hips up to straddle yours, one hand working his cock until his release overtakes him.

He flattens both palms to the mattress as he starts to come, groaning softly and rocking his hips so that his cock grinds against your stomach. The head of his dick twitches visibly, leaking pulse after pulse of sticky gloss over your skin, and he smears his cock through it as he ruts against you. He keeps going, rolling his hips and rubbing the mess across your stomach until he’s thoroughly spent, until you’re both flushed and sticky all over.

“Holy fucking shit,” is all he can manage when he finally collapses down on the bed next to you.

You glance over at him and nod, trying to imply without speaking that the feeling is mutual. He meets your gaze, and you lay like that for several long minutes of silence as your breathing slows, eyes fixed on each other as your heartbeats race through the comedown.

It’s hard to believe that any part of tonight has been real, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s thinking the same thing.

As the post-orgasm glow starts to settle, exhaustion hits you like a train. You groan, breaking the prolonged eye contact to throw an arm over your face, blocking out Yoongi’s bedroom with the crook of your elbow.

You’re not expecting it when he softly says your name, and something in your gut tells you that whatever’s coming isn’t good. You will yourself not to look back again, to stay as still as a statue when you answer him. “Hmm?”

“You know Jungkook is in love with you, right?”

The plan to not move goes out the window at his words. Your pulse spikes, and you drop your arm to look at him, your face twisted in confusion. “What?!”

Yoongi studies your expression for a second, then makes a small hum of surprise. “Interesting. I figured you were just trying to let him down easy.”

“I— what?”

“You really didn’t know?” He scoffs, and his tone is enough to instantly make you set your jaw. “It’s pretty obvious. It’s funny, I guess he’s sort of inadvertently responsible for all of this.”

That takes a second to sink in, and you blink. “How?”

Yoongi stares up at the ceiling, seemingly nonplussed. “Well, when he asked me for the code to my office, I figured he wanted to take you in there and fuck you.”

Hot blood rushes to your chest, and you sit up a little. “You talked to Jungkook about fucking me?”

“No.” Yoongi blinks. “This was before anything happened. I haven’t told him anything. It was just clear he liked you, even back then, because I have eyes. So I was trying to do him a favor. He’s a good kid.”

You squint, still trying to catch up. “Why would Jungkook fuck me in your office?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know, it’s the only door that locks. Sometimes you get desperate.” You swallow the immediate urge to argue when your brain unhelpfully reminds you that you have in fact fucked Yoongi at the office. Twice.

“But you know, I figured he’d wine you, dine you, all that romantic crap first. I’m sure he’s a very respectable sex on the third date kind of guy.” That all-too-familiar smirk is back when he glances over at you again. “I guess neither of us realized who we were dealing with.”

You open and close your mouth a few times before you can remember how to speak. “I’m not having this conversation with you. Particularly not with your cum still on my stomach.”

Yoongi nods toward the en-suite. “There’s towels in there. Or you can shower if you want.”

Your head spins as you silently slip out of his bed, and you shut the bathroom door firmly behind you, wishing you could leave that entire conversation on the other side of it. Maybe his fancy shower will get hot enough to blast all the thoughts out of your brain, you reason, and it only takes a bit of fumbling with the knobs before you figure it out.

The water pressure is so much better than what you’re used to that you groan a little when you step under the spray. You turn in a semicircle, letting it beat down on your neck and shoulders as you close your eyes, willing the tension to melt out of your body. You really are exhausted, practically asleep on your feet, despite the way your mind is still racing.

You don’t know why you came here tonight. You don’t know what you thought would happen. You don’t know what makes you keep coming back to Yoongi, over and over, like a moth to a flame, like the definition of insanity. You don’t know why he opened up to you tonight, or why you decided to do the same— or what the fuck compelled him to say that Jungkook is in love with you. You don’t know if things are supposed to stay the same after tonight, or if they will be irrevocably different, and you don’t know which you’d even want.

You have no idea what you want, actually. Another drink would be nice.

The sound of the shower door opening startles you, pulling you up from your thought spiral, and your eyes snap open to see Yoongi shutting the door behind him. Without a word, he steps in to crowd you under the water, and you hate the way your heartbeat flutters when he’s close to you.

“What are you—” you try to ask, but you don’t get to finish the sentence before his hand cups your jaw and his mouth finds yours.

His kiss blots everything else from your brain, and in this moment, you’re grateful for it. You lean into him, letting him in deeper when his tongue traces your bottom lip, whimpering softly as his other hand presses to the small of your back to pull you closer.

You don’t know what he wants, either. Why he came in here. But you have a guess.

“Yoongi,” you murmur against his lips. “I can’t again. I’m so tired.”

“It’s okay,” he answers softly, and then his mouth drags you back in like a riptide.

You don’t know how long you stay there like that, kissing him under the steam and the spray, but you’re breathless when you finally pull away to look up at him. Water droplets are twined through his long, dark hair, collecting delicately on his eyelashes, trailing down his neck and over the muscles of his chest.

“You can sleep here tonight, if you want,” Yoongi offers, and before you can even process the words, he’s stepping back to push the shower door open behind him, and then he’s gone.

With the glass fogged over completely from the heat of the water, and the white noise of the fan overhead, you have no concept of when he leaves the bathroom, or what else he might be doing. You just know you feel entirely alone.

After scrubbing yourself thoroughly with a washcloth that you lather in Yoongi’s soap, you emerge from the shower, grabbing a towel from the linen cabinet to wrap up in. It’s weird to smell like him, sandalwood and musk, somehow both comforting and alienating.

When you nudge open the door to his room again, it’s empty, and the inset lighting has been turned off entirely, the room bathed only in the glow of the bedside lamp that’s been switched on.

He’s left out one of his t-shirts for you, and you recognize it as one you’ve seen him in often at work. You remember Googling the label once out of curiosity and nearly passing out at your desk when you saw the three hundred dollar price tag. You pull it on over your head, then return to the bathroom to hang your towel up.

As you slip back into the bedroom, you can’t help but wonder where Yoongi’s disappeared off to, but you’re too exhausted to go looking for him.

Though you figure he’ll be in eventually, your heart still sinks a little as you pull back the covers and crawl into his bed. It feels so much bigger when you’re the only one in it. You decide to leave the lamp on, then turn over to press your cheek to the pillow, and the waves of sleep almost immediately pull you under.

You’re still alone when you wake up in the morning, the other side of the bed entirely undisturbed. 

Blinking slowly, it takes you a moment to remember where you are, and then the night comes back to you piece by piece. The lamp on the nightstand is still on when you sit up and swing your legs over the edge of the bed.

Yawning and rubbing sleep from your eyes, you push open Yoongi’s bedroom door and pad down the hallway, trying to make sense of things. You have to retrace your steps all the way back to the living room before you find him, curled up on his side on the couch with one arm tucked under his head, still sleeping soundly.

He looks smaller like this. More vulnerable, maybe.

You wonder if you should’ve asked him to join you in his bed, and you wonder why he didn’t. Worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, you decide to let him rest.

You move through his apartment aimlessly, like a patron in a museum. Something cracks open inside of you as you allow yourself to take in his place undisturbed, and with it, what could be. The idea that a night spent here could feel normal. The two of you in the clearly well-used kitchen, how you might sit on the counter with a glass of wine while he cooks dinner. Talking about your days, about the past and the future. Sharing a life. Fucking and showering and falling asleep in his bed, tangled up together.

For something so close, it feels impossibly far away in the harsh light of morning. It feels like something meant for a much better person than you.

When you make it all the way back to his room, you peel your borrowed shirt off and drape it across his bed like you found it. You retrieve your clothes from last night off the floor and pull them back on.

Thankfully Yoongi chose to fall asleep on the far side of the couch, so when you re-enter the living room, you’re easily able to grab your purse where you set it down the night before without waking him. You slip your heels on in his entryway, then open the front door and shut it as quietly as you can behind you.

You fish your phone out of your bag and scroll until you find Jimin’s contact, then press it to your ear as the line starts to ring.

~*~

You don’t hear from Yoongi at all on Sunday, and you barely see him at work the next few days. You don’t know why it surprises you. It makes sense. You said that night had to mean nothing, you left in the morning without another word, and it’s not like you’ve made any effort to reach out since.

But nevertheless, hurt feelings sit heavy in the pit of your stomach, stinging like salt in an open wound. You’re angry that Yoongi seems to be acting like nothing even happened. You’re annoyed that you have to spend an entire weekend alone with him in Los Angeles. And you’re pissed off that you have so much fucking work to do in preparation for a trip that’s all about him.

You keep your head down and just try to fucking survive. You stay silent in your meetings unless directly asked a question. You type furiously at your desk, forever behind on emails and late on promised deliverables.

The week passes by in a blur, and it doesn’t even occur to you what day it is until you find Jungkook waiting for you at your desk when you return from an afternoon meeting.

“Hi, Jungkook.” You try to say it gently, to not take your frustrations out on someone who didn’t even do anything. While you’ve made polite small talk all week, things certainly haven’t felt normal, and you can’t tell if he senses it too, or if you’re just letting Yoongi’s cryptic words plant imaginary strange vibes in your head.

To his credit, Jungkook seems unfazed. “It’s the last day before your trip!” he says brightly, and your eyes widen as you realize he’s right. “What’s the rest of your day look like?”

You take a seat at your desk and pull up your calendar to check, and he circles around to look with you. “That was thankfully my last meeting,” you respond. “Just getting back to my never-ending to-do list now.”

“Or…” Jungkook prompts, and you glance up to see him leaning forward to rest his elbows on the back of your desk chair, his chin propped cutely in his hands. “You could not do that.”

You blink up at him. “And what would I be doing instead?”

“I was thinking, it’s been a while since we’ve had a walking meeting. Plus it’s actually nice out. So you should take a break.”

Glancing back at your to-do list sends a fresh wave of dread through you, and then you snap your laptop shut with a resigned sigh. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

Not only could you use the break, but you want things with Jungkook to feel normal again, even if the weirdness is only in your head. Maybe this is what you need.

Down in the lobby, Jungkook holds the door for you, and when you step outside, you realize he’s right. It’s one of those clear-sky early spring days, warm enough out that it feels like the world is starting over, like everything is coming back to life. You can’t help but feel like you could use a fresh start, too.

Though you expect to be led somewhere with food, Jungkook takes a different route instead, and you follow him a few blocks over to the entrance of a nearby park. You end up side by side on a paved pedestrian path, the length of which is lined with trees that have only just begun to bud.

It’s quiet, save for the distant noise of the city, the rustle of nature, and the rush of the occasional cyclist whizzing past. You walk slowly as you chat about nothing of importance: work, music, his dogs.

Jungkook glances over at you during a moment’s pause, with a look on his face like there’s a question he’s been waiting to ask. “So how are you feeling about your trip?”

You can’t quite manage to keep your expression neutral, your eyes rolling like a reflex. “Whatever. I just want to get it over with.”

“Ah.” Jungkook nods, and you can see he’s biting back some reaction. “For some reason I thought you might be excited.”

“What do you mean?”

He just shrugs. “I don’t know. You’ve been… different lately. About Suga. I thought maybe something was going on.” An uneasy feeling starts to wash over you.

“Nothing is going on with me and Yoongi,” you say, far too quickly. Jungkook glances at you, his brows pinched together slightly as if he’s unsure what to believe.

“Okay,” he says simply. You hope that’s the end of it, but then he keeps going. “That’s good. I’m glad I don’t have to tell you to raise your standards.”

Heat rushes into your face, caught somewhere between shame and anger. “Um, what does that mean?”

You grit your teeth when he just shrugs again. “I don’t know. He was such a jerk to you, and then suddenly it’s like you guys are hanging out and getting close and stuff—”

“We are not close,” you interject, and you hate how unsteady your voice sounds when you say it.

“Good,” Jungkook responds. “Because I thought maybe you might be, and it didn’t make any sense to me.”

Overwhelmed by his words, you come to a standstill on the pavement, and he makes it a few steps further before he realizes. As he turns back to face you, the words rush out before you can stop them. “I mean, I don’t see how it’s any of your business either way.”

Jungkook’s brow furrows again. “It’s my business because I care about you. He made you so miserable when you first started, so I don’t see how you could just forget about that and be into him, especially when you could…” He trails off and looks down, unwilling to finish the sentence.

“When I could what?” Another fucking shrug, and you can feel the rage inside you simmering now, threatening to boil over. Yoongi’s question comes back to haunt you— you know Jungkook is in love with you, right?— and the pieces start to slot together in front of you.

“When I could be into you?” you press him, taking an accusatory step closer. “Is that what you want to say?”

His gaze flits up to the trees above you, like he’s willing to look anywhere but your face. “No. I don’t know.”

The birdsong in the air has suddenly started to sound a lot more like screaming, and you have to suppress the urge to do the same. Instead, your voice comes out low and deadly serious. “You and I are friends, Jungkook. Just friends.”

“I know we are,” he says softly.

“Do you?” you snap back, vicious now. “Because it sounds to me like you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” he responds automatically, in the same tone, and you scoff.

“Look me in my face and say it.” You take another step toward him, and his eyes meet yours. He’s silent long enough for you to understand the truth, and all at once, you feel like a fucking idiot.

“Let me make this clear to you,” you hiss. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself and making my own decisions. And I do not have to explain or justify them to anyone, including you, because you are not my fucking boyfriend.”

When you spit the final word, Jungkook flinches like you’ve slapped him, but you can’t stop now. You’re so angry, it feels like it’s eating you alive. “When I want your opinion, as my friend, I’ll ask for it. Understood?”

You’ve never seen him look at you the way he does now, his eyes dark, his face twisted into a near grimace. There’s a long pause, and his voice is stilted when he finally speaks. “Yeah. Sorry I brought it up.”

The two of you walk back to the office in total silence, and Jungkook doesn’t try to talk to you again.

~*~

It’s early enough to still be pitch black outside when Jimin pulls up to the curb of your terminal at Incheon Airport.

“Thanks again for driving.” You yawn around the words as you reach down to unbuckle your seatbelt. When Jimin suddenly pulls you in for a hug, you groan at the affection, but he pays it no mind, dotting kisses over your hair that make you squirm.

“Love you, have fun. And be a slut!”

You roll your eyes as you manage to peel him off of you. “Bye, Baby Mochi.”

Slipping on a face mask, you push the door of his car open and climb out of the passenger seat. You swing open the trunk to grab your suitcase, then slam it shut again and step up onto the curb.

Making your way into the terminal, you dig your phone out of your bag to double-check the text from Yoongi, and then you glance up at the sign overhead to confirm you’re right where he said he’d be.

It takes a second for you to realize the person walking in your direction is Min Yoongi. The black baseball cap pulled low over his eyes is certainly not a bad look, but when paired with his black face mask, it makes him almost impossible to identify, or get a good read on. Rolling your suitcase ahead of you, you move toward him, and the two of you meet in the middle.

You wore sneakers today, so he still seems tall.

“Hi,” you say simply, a thousand different emotions swirling in your gut. You do your best to ignore them all.

Yoongi hums a wordless grunt back in response, then turns to face the already bustling security line. You mirror him, and for a moment the two of you just stay like that, like you’re standing firmly in the present and unsure of what might be waiting on the other side.

He gives a tired sigh. “Ready?” You’re surprised to learn he can speak this early in the morning. 

“I guess so,” you answer.

Perfectly in sync, you both push your bags forward, stepping carefully toward a weekend that feels impossible to imagine.

chapter seven | masterlist | chapter nine

#yoongi smut #yoongi angst #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #look down on me like that

[kira-fluff]

𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖙𝖔 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 || 𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖏𝖚 𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖇𝖆

pairing: single!dad!taiju shiba x fem!teacher!reader tw: suggestive (fluff to smut), shower sex, taiju being a service dom, adhd!child (cuz taiju has adhd change my mind), language, references to tokyo rev [spoilers] about taiju's back story and arc, mentions of therapy because no one talks about taiju's redemption for some reason, dead spouse, guilt, mentions of god bc taiju is canonically very religious, virgin!reader, handjob/bj a/n: so fun fact i'm an education major lmfao and i love taiju so much this was a shameless word vomit because i love my major and taiju aight - yes i changed the formatting again sorry lol also omggg we're almost to 2k followers i can't believe it!

every classroom has at least one student that you liked to call "the student you loved the most". this student was typically the student with the most behavioral issues in your classroom. this term, "the student you loved the most" wasn't sarcastic - you recognized that these students were often really the ones who needed the most love.

one of the most important things you learned while running your kindergarten classroom was that the behaviors you saw in the classroom did not reflect the child's character, but rather, their poor coping skills with something going on in their life.

the same could be said about one of your students - koji shiba. he was truly such a bright child, yet not only did he struggle with attention deficit disorder, but he frequently disrupted recess with physical fights with other boys his age. you frequently wrestled with how to handle his struggles. on one hand, you understood that these outbursts stemmed from his adhd... but you were almost certain there was something else that you weren't seeing. however, your meeting with his parents was arriving quickly.

koji sat next to you at recess, a bruised elbow and a bleeding knee (all patched up now, thankfully, because you started bringing a first aid kit to recess). he was scowling, looking down at the ground with his arms crossed.

you kneeled down to look at him at the same level, "koji, could you tell me what happened?"

"he was lookin' at me like i was stupid."

you eyed him for a moment before showing concern, "koji, do you remember what i said we should do when we are having big emotions?"

he avoided your gaze, turning his head away from you as he replied, "nuh-uh."

you gave a patient smile, "when we have big emotions, we don't have to handle them all by ourselves. do you know why?"

he shook his head.

you continued, "because otherwise, those big emotions get bigger and bigger until we can't handle them anymore because they're so heavy!"

he looked pensive for a moment before saying, "'m sorry i punched him. i didn't mean it."

"i know you didn't, your big emotions just got a little too heavy. but who do you think you should be apologizing to right now?"

he lowered his head, pointing toward the boy who was running around the playground with a big bandage on his cheek. with an encouraging nod from you, he slid off the bench, making his way over to the boy. you watched from afar to ensure that both boys were safe, smiling as you saw koji sheepishly apologize to the boy with his head down, scuffing the sand with his foot. from what you could read from the other boy's body language, he seemed like he didn't mind too much, offering a smile and shrug and even inviting koji to play.

sometime later that day, koji came up to you with a big grin on his face. tapping your arm gently, you turned to him as he said, "miss y/l/n, you're my favorite teacher. i like you."

you held back a laugh at his cuteness (and the fact that you're the only teacher he's ever had). "thank you koji, that means a lot." you ruffled his hair, "i'm so excited to tell your parents what good choices you made today!"

"oh, it's just me and dad."

your eyes widened and you quickly searched his eyes for any signs of sadness or uncomfortability. however, he seemed rather relaxed and even unbothered, though you supposed sometimes kids weren't able to fully process things like that at this age.

you decided to reply in kind, "what's dad like? is he as cool as you?"

you beamed as his eyes lit up, "oh yeah! dad is super cool! maybe even cooler than me! he used to beat up tons of guys.. but he says i better not because that's not nice. dad was in a gang when he was younger so he could beat up all the other kids' dads if they try to mess with me!" he replied proudly, puffing out his chest.

you laughed outright at that, "he does sound pretty cool."

"yeah, and he's single!"

you nearly choked on your own spit. this parent-teacher conference was going to be interesting, you knew that for sure. a former gang member? you couldn't help your mind wander to what he looked like, imaging tattoos, piercings, and the like.

[taiju's pov]

koji had been going on and on about his teacher since the first day of school. it was a different story every day but usually included the same statements: "she's so pretty!", "she's so nice", "she lets me play with my pencil during lessons to help me listen", "she didn't yell at me when i wasn't paying attention" - all things considered, she sounded like a great teacher. which was good because, well, for most of koji's life he didn't have a mother figure. his aunt who would've been present otherwise was currently in college (as she should be!) and wasn't near our home. but, i think koji felt an absence without his mother, even if he never said anything or didn't even realize it.

it wasn't long after koji was born that we lost her to a car accident on her way to her first day back at work from maternity leave. there wasn't any use in blamin' myself for it anymore and god knows how much fuckin' money i've spent on therapy just trying to fix myself even before all that shit happened.

i swore after the way that i treated hakkai and yuzuha that i'd fix myself and never do that to my family ever again. i struggled for years with unbearable self-hatred at the way i'd treated them. even then, it's a struggle i have to bear because at the end of the day, my therapist says i gotta be kind to myself, too, or some bullshit like that. that i "had a lot on my back as the oldest" and that i "didn't learn good copin' mechanisms". wasn't diagnosed with adhd and a trauma disorder until i was fuckin' 30. still, to me it sounded all like excuses.. still does if i'm honest.

she was the one who taught me to see past myself - past my past self and instead look toward livin' in the present. my late wife was the one who brought me back from the hell i was livin' in day in and day out, and i'll never forget her for that.

my thoughts were interrupted by my son.

"dad, why are we goin' back to school during nighttime?"

"'s time for the meetin' between your teacher and me," i smiled, turning toward koji who started skipping excitedly.

i've met his teacher once before, but only for a moment as introductions were done at the beginning of the year to make sure koji got his school supplies. embarrassingly, though, i could barely remember what she looked like.

"you're mr. shiba, right? sorry, i'm still trying to connect all of the names to faces," you smiled, bowing to greet koji's father.

"big" was an understatement. this man was massive. you mustn't have realized it last time because you were speaking to a whole crowd of parents from the front of the classroom while they were all sitting, but holy shit, this guy is enormous. similar to your image of a gang member, mr. shiba sported tattoos along his neck that likely trailed down to his chest from what you could see from his suit. no piercings though, contrary to your imagery, however. he must be at least 6'4 from what you could see and incredibly muscular.

realizing you were staring, you cleared your throat awkwardly and motioned for him to take a seat as you took yours, toji following suit as well. your cheeks flushed as you noticed a hint of a smirk on his face as he took his seat.

you folded your hands on top of your desk. "first of all, i wanted to just say that koji is an incredibly intelligent and gifted young man." you smiled toward koji, "but we're still working on making the right choice, however, when we have really big feelings."

mr. shiba raised an eyebrow, "so, he's been actin' up?" he turned toward his son with an expression that clearly said "we'll talk about this later", to which koji shrunk in his chair.

you leaned in closer, raising your voice a little, "i-i want to clarify that after koji and i talk after he makes a mistake, he tries his very best to fix it and make the right choice, mr. shiba."

"you can call me taiju. i've heard about some of the hittin' stuff from the principal, but is there more?"

"sometimes he struggles with paying attention in class, but this is something we are working on as a team, as you know. he is able to do mathematics at least two grade levels above his peers, so i think as long as we continue to practice redirection techniques he'll continue to succeed."

the conversation continued on longer than you anticipated, and you were grateful then that taiju and koji were your last meeting of the day. the conversation went from speaking of koji's behavior and overall developmental and academic success to things of a more casual nature. taiju, you found, was incredibly sweet. he had a way of getting you to laugh when you least expected it. koji got bored pretty early on in the conversation and began to color at his desk instead. taiju showed a great amount of courtesy, smiling softly while you talked and nodding along as you spoke.

in a moment of silence in your conversation, you looked at the clock and realized that it was already seven o'clock.

"oh, i guess it's getting rather late. thank you so much for meeting with me mr. shi-- taiju," you laughed, "and i look forward to seeing how koji grows this year!"

"pleasures all ours, right koji?" the little boy nodded enthusiastically as taiju moved him toward the classroom exit door. just as he was about to move through the threshold, he turned around once more.

"...have ya eaten yet?"

you looked up from your notes, startled, "dinner? ah, i had a late lunch..."

he eyed you for a moment, "... do ya wanna get dinner? ...with koji and i? on me, of course."

"oh, i couldn't impose on you.."

"ya wouldn't be imposin', i offered."

you mulled it over for a moment then replied, "well, if you insist.."

following your impromptu dinner, you and taiju seemed to get closer. he had your number already because it was on the teacher-parent relationship form he'd received from the beginning of the year, but you'd found each other in the habit of texting each other almost every day. little did you know, this was something out of the ordinary for taiju, as he was rarely on his phone unless he needed it for business work.

taiju didn't know when it started, but that feeling he had once felt with his late wife... it was back.

he knew it was because of you. and that feeling - peace - was something that had seemed too foreign for so many years. the moment he met you again.. saw the way you were looking at him up and down, he knew that he was already falling for you. it was strange because taiju usually didn't let people in very easily, but with you, it was as if all his walls came down immediately. after months of spending time with you, seeing how you treated his son like he was your own.. he knew he couldn't ever let you go. he had to have you. and it was at that moment he knew he was in love.

but... did he really deserve you? he already felt that perhaps god wasn't going to give him another chance after his first love left this world. but slowly, he decided that made it was ok to be selfish again. that maybe if it was you, god would forgive him for wanting more. he reasoned that you would be such a great mom to koji some day, if you loved him back.

if you loved him back.

taiju was blind to the way you longingly gazed at him, wishing for something more. you wrestled with the ethical reasons first. was it wrong to date one of your student's fathers? after wrestling with that issue and your heart one, it was on to another challenge. what if he didn't like you back? after all, he'd opened up to you about his late wife.. explaining that she was no longer in this world... would his heart be ready and open to love someone else again? maybe he was just extremely kind, though you couldn't ignore the way you sometimes caught him looking at you... but you reasoned that it must be something you were trying to see rather than reality.

everything changed one night.

"thanks for tonight, again... i had fun." you shyly brushed away a stray hair behind your ear as you stood at taiju's doorstep. you'd had yet another one of your little "dinners" ("dates"?) with taiju as koji was at hakkai's for the night.

taiju remained silent, staring down at you. his eyes flicking between your own, and down at your lips. self-consciously, you licked them, swallowing in the uncomfortable silence.

"...is everything okay, taiju?"

his brows furrowed, "....can't..back.....you..."

you raised an eyebrow, moving closer, "what did you say taiju?"

he shuffled his feet closer to you, his hands ghosting over your hips, asking permission. "...i can't hold back anymore with you..."

you placed your hands over his, moving them securely onto your hips as you leaned even closer. "you don't need to hold back, taiju.." you stared at him, eyes hooded with desire.

he sucked in a deep breath, "i hope you know what you're gettin' yourself into."

you carded your hands gently through his hair, then ran them down his cheeks.

he searched your face for any indication of protest before he held more firmly to your waist. then, he leaned in, though he couldn't help himself, and did so rather rapidly, crashing his lips into yours. you felt something stir in your stomach as his lips pressed against yours and a moan escaped your mouth, thus allowing him entrance into your mouth. you felt his wet tongue roam around your mouth in between breathy pants and sharp curses. he moved in closer to you, one of his knees sliding in between your legs as he pushed you up against the door of his home, only the sounds of your moans and his curses between the two of you.

you couldn't hold back any longer, either, as you began to grind your clothed cunt against his black slacks, eliciting a sharp heave from taiju.

"fuck, just like that..." he breathed out between pants, once more encasing your lips in his.

you whimpered as you felt his hands lightly skim below the hem of your shirt. you leaned even closer, if that was at all possible, whispering a soft, "please" in his ear.

he growled, picking you up by the back of your knees and hauling you over his shoulder as you yelped in surprise. he hurriedly thrust open the door to his home, lugging you to his bedroom. he then placed you down, standing up just near the edge of his bed.

he drank in the sight of you as he reached toward his belt, preparing to unbuckle it, when you covered your hand over his.

"wait... can... can i?"

his eyebrows rose as a smirk grew on his face, "ya don't have to ask me twice."

he moved in closer to continue to kiss you as you fumbled to unbuckle his belt, then slide his slacks down his legs. while you continued your ministrations, he worked at unbuttoning your blouse. he could scarcely breathe as he took in the beautiful sight of your tits as they bounced free from your bra - a laced one - he noted. you were so beautiful.

"don't know what i did 't deserve this.."

"taiju, you don't ever need to earn love."

he kissed you again, moving his hands down to trace the outline of your ass. you were wearing a skirt, much to his pleasure, so he slipped his fingers under the hem, skirting his fingers against your thighs.

"jesus, fuck, yer already so fucking wet."

you moaned as his dexterous fingers moved between your thighs, then up toward your waistline, yanking your panties down to your knees.

without an ounce of hesitation, he stuffed a finger into your needy hole, groaning as he felt you clamp around his finger. he then began thrusting in and out of your cunt, adding another finger.

"ah, right there.." you moaned, feeling tears already pooling in your eyes.

"yer so fuckin' pretty, ya know that? so fuckin' pretty for me."

you could only whimper as you felt him continue to thrust his long fingers in and out of you with an almost inhuman speed.

suddenly, he withdrew his fingers from your drooling cunt and picked you up by your ass, tossing you gently onto the bed.

"i can make you feel even better than that," he promised.

without any other warning, he readjusted so his head was just between your legs, and began slowly licking at your wetness, using his finger to flick your clit.

"you taste so fuckin' good," he moaned, "'m already so fuckin' hard for you and i haven't even taken off yer damn skirt yet," he noted as your skirt had merely been pushed further above you, resting a few inches below your tits.

his mouth worked wonders as he lapped at your cunt, drinking you up as you moaned your praises while you gripped his hair tightly. he continued to drink you up as you shook with pleasure until you gripped his hair a little tighter, "taiju, taiju 'm close!"

you cried as he pulled back, your juices covering his face.

he let out a soft chuckle, "don't worry, darlin'. 's okay if i...?"

"yes, yes, please, taiju," you begged, bucking your hips up to try to convey your need and desire.

his eyes were nearly black with lust and he slipped off his boxers. and goddammit, you took in his rock-hard cock, and you weren't sure if you'd be able to take it. everything about this man was massive from his broad shoulders and wide chest that was covered in tattoos.. to even his fat cock, dripping with precum. it was red-hot as he guided it to your hole. you clenched tightly just around the tip and he sucked in a deep breath.

"jesus, doll, 'm not even half-way in," he quipped.

"i-i.. don't know if it's.. gonna fit, taiju," you worried.

"i'll be slow, if ya worried... shit, are you a virgin?"

you blushed a deep red, turning away and nodding.

"fuck, i didn't think i could get any harder. look at what ya do to me, doll."

you slowly turned, looking once more at his angry red rip. you could practically feel his heartbeat inside of you as he pushed deeper into you, ever so slowly. the deeper he went, the closer he leaned into you, readjusting as he took you into his arms.

"y-you can go faster now, taiju.."

sweat was dripping off of him as he tentatively asked, "ya sure?"

you nodded, "'m ready for you."

he couldn't have held back even if he tried after hearing you say that and he began immediately thrusting into you, his pace quickly gaining speed.

"ah-AH taiju!" you called his name, and he let out another groan, thrusting into you harder. you felt so hot..it was unlike any other sensation you'd ever felt before. the tight knot in your belly coiled further almost toward its breaking point.

and all at once, you shouted out his name, cumming onto his cock as he continued to thrust into you, attentively slowing his pace for a moment. just the sound of your yelps of his name, your moans of pleasure, it was enough to make him go insane. he'd never admit to you the hundreds of times he'd woken up in a sweat in his bed, his cock hardened as he dreamt of fucking you until you saw stars. he'd imagined how you'd sound, but nothing could compare to the sweet sound of reality. you were so fucking beautiful. the thought alone was enough to make him let out a loud moan before he quickly pulled out, releasing his seed into the bed sheets. he couldn't help it as his lips met your own sloppily as he muttered praise and curses, telling you just how lovely you are.

"let's clean you up, yeah?"

you nodded shyly, following him to the bathroom where he turned on the shower. you took the opportunity as he was turned around to hug him tightly from behind, muttering a quiet, "i love you."

he froze and for a moment you thought he was uncomfortable before he replied just as softly, "i love you too. so much."

the shower was warm against your hot skin, and you nearly melted as taiju worked at rubbing the shampoo into your hair gently. gaining a bit of confidence, you smiled mischievously and let your hand wander down to his cock. you were pleased to find it was already semi-hard. he took in a sharp breath, "quit teasin' me."

you turned around, letting the water wash the shampoo out of your hair as you replied, "i wanna make you feel good, too."

you swore his brain short-circuited what with the way his eyes bulged out of his head, eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. however, just as quickly, a smug grin overtook his surprise. "gettin' bold already?"

not allowing him a chance to one-up you, you dropped to your knees, grasping his fat, drooling cock in your hand. you laughed as you heard him nearly choke in shock.

you gave his cock a few pumps before replacing your hand with your mouth, teasing the tip with your tongue as you heard him groan loudly from above you. you hummed, the vibrations sending chills down his body as you leaned further onto his cock, taking him in your mouth. he sighed breathily, stroking your hair and muttering, "just like that... yer so perfect..."

you hollowed out your cheeks, trying your best to take him fully. taiju, on the other hand, tried to be conscious of you, but he couldn't help thrusting his hips into you, causing you to gag. how the fuck were you so good at this?

you continued to suck him off and, unsurprisingly, taiju couldn't hold on for very long (he was beginning to realize in almost every case he couldn't hold back when it came to you). he made sure to warn you that he was about to cum, letting his seed splatter onto the shower floor.

"yer so good to me, doll. i hope ya know how much i love you."

you awoke to tangled limbs and messy hair and above all, perfection. everything was just right. taiju slept softly next to you, his strong arms embracing you tightly as you slept together.

maybe one more hour couldn't hurt.

a/n: lmfao remember when i only wrote fluff? lmfaooooo anywhere here's this shit

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x reader smut #taiju shiba x reader #taiju shiba x reader smut #taiju smut #taiju shiba #tokyo rev headcanons #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev smut #tokyo rev fluff #tokyorev x reader #taiju shiba fluff #fem!reader

[pandalexoxo]

OKAY BEAR WITH ME Y’ALL. I HAVEN’T PLAYED THE GAME SO I’M JUST GOING OFF OF SOME TIRED OLD MAN TROPES.

FRANCIS MOSES x READER

also, i haven’t written down any of my rules, but i don’t have any limits! i’ll write whatever requests people send me! whatever your dark mind can think of will be my pleasure to create!

i don’t mind if you’re not 18+, since, if i ever do make smut i’ll just label it as 18+ and TRUST that 18+ ONLY will read. you all have probably seen, but i’ve just written about my thoughts of different fandoms so far so there’s no 18+ posts YET. (maybe i’ll make this account SFW and do another for NSFW? idk, i normally post on other platforms but randomly decided to give tumblr a try lol)

as a NM/trans man myself, i TRY to keep my readers gender neutral by not really describing the characters features. hard on TRY bc i know the last blurb fic i made of dead plate was Rody x Male Reader lol, oopsies! anywhooo, enjoy~!

WARNINGS! doppleganger mention, possible unconsciousness, possible death, possible unfunny dialogue (bc sometimes i’m the only one who finds me hilarious lmfao), you’re kinda a baddie ngl, you and Francis are besties, Francis is a cat lover?! Francis is a tired old man who hates technology. phone mentioned despite the first wireless phone being made 23 years after the story takes place (use your imagination) uhhh, anything else i forget? comment below!

Francis let out a long sigh of relief, taking his cap off with one hand, using the other to dab away at his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief. Upon seeing the exhausted man, you can’t help but smile softly, shaking your head as you get ready to scold him, once again. You cross your arms, looking at him through the window with a playful disappointed glare.

“mhm mhm, what do we have here? you really should be getting more sleep, mr. milkman, your eyes are starting to sport their own eye bags.”

with this comment, Francis shakes his head but is unable to stop the small, yet tired smile on his face. he bends down to place the crate of milk jugs onto the floor before handing over his ID card. you hum, narrowing your eyes when Francis doesn’t give into your whims. you eye his card, glancing at it a few times before slipping it back to him with a chuckle.

Francis’s eyebrow raises in confusion at your reaction but ends up shaking his head, rolling his eyes playfully and sighing softly. he places his cap back on his head and huffs, deeming your reaction as a go ahead inside.

“now… what if i was a doppelganger? you aren’t even going to call my room to check if someone is there? such a reliable doorman we have.”

despite Francis’s playful tone, your grin slips into a frown as you study Francis from behind the glass. this causes him to tense up, suddenly feeling nervous, like he did something wrong. you hum, tilting your head into your palm as you seemingly analyze Francis for a little while before deciding to speak.

“what’s up brother?”

Francis blinks a few times in surprise, his head tilting in confusion at your question. His eyes narrow as he thinks about the question you asked.

“what’s… up… brother…?”

Francis looks up at the ceiling, taking your question to heart. upon seeing nothing on the ceiling, Francis can only shake his head and sigh at your antics.

“are you done with your tomfoolery, (Y/n)? i’m quite exhausted and would like to go up to my room and rest.”

you can only shake your head, clasping your hands together like a disappointed father getting ready to discuss their kids grades at the dinner table. you begin to explain.

“when Francis first walks in here, he always forgets one of three things… his keys, his hat or the crate of milk. you came in here, although exhausted, you seemed put together, unlike Francis, who is clearly going through a midlife crisis. Francis will then ask me about my cat, well, because he’s a cat person, though he insists no one knows. oh, and, Francis’s home phone has been broken for the past few days and is actually at the store, right now. so, Francis being here so soon, isn’t possible. that, and well, Francis never understands my references, but indulges me anyway… anything else i forgot, doppelganger?”

you bat your eyelashes, smirking from behind the window like you just cracked down the traitor in your group. with each statement, Francis’s doppelgänger’s face becomes visibly more and more angry until the doppelganger begins to completely change: black eyes with white pupils, a wide and eerie black mouth, adorned with long and sharp claws on the end of the doppleganger’s elongated limbs.

“you… you’ll regret this… i will get in one day and get my feast, starting with you. i’ll gut you, keep you alive so you can watch your organs fall out of your body and your blood splatter against-! *CLANK! BAM! PLINK!*”

before the doppelganger could finish his fantasy, much to your amusement, the doppleganger’s body tenses upon being struck before crumpling to the floor after becoming unconscious. you look up from the doppleganger’s body to see the real Francis hovering above the, possibly dead, doppelganger. you shrug, knowing that you wouldn’t have to call DDD services to take care of the mess, now you just have to clean up the body.

“mmm… tuesday… tuesday…? did i get that right?”

you hold back a chuckle at Francis’s response to your last question. you can only nod, letting Francis have the win this time. pinching the bridge of your nose and sighing, a loud laugh bubbles up from your throat as the two of you realized what Francis had hit the doppelganger with.

“ngh… i just bought this phone… damnit… his hard head must have broke it, ah, if i bring it back could i get a… refund…?”

#tnmn #tnmn milkman #tnmn fanfic #tnmn francis mosses #tnmn x reader #tnmn x male reader #that’s not my neighbor x male reader #that’s not my neighbor x reader #francis mosses x male reader #francis mosses x reader #doppleganger #d.d.d

[burning-academia-if]

I'm so sorry for all the notifications lmao I'm going around liking every ask because i haven't been on the page for a bit. And why the fuck is all the asks making me like Lars. I don't want to like Lara because Lara doesn't want to like my MC.. i already have enough problems with Rook 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

I need to stay away from these problematic ROs. 😭

Oh quessssstiiioooon someone's probably asked this before but I've seen it on a few blogs. But since magic is obvs a thing. If someone cursed MC or gave them something that could only be broken by true love's kiss (especially since mc doesn't really have the healthiest relationship with those they are close to so who would think they could break a spell like that)

and it's after they've confessed to the ROs. How would they react to MC not waking up at first after they kissed them... but waking up after they've started having a major meltdown after all?

If you have gotten this ask could i please have a link because finding anything on tumblr is... 😒

And i literally fall in love with this goddamn IF every time i read anything on this page. It's a curse in itself... I hope you have a lovely weekend 🤣😇💜

Omg never apologize for mass liking, that's literally anyone on Tumblr's lifeblood lol

Also you know, I feel like Lars, despite being the biggest asshole of the ROs, is still less of a handful then Rook lmfaO good luck with dealing with them!

Also I have not been asked this one before! Felt very inspired it with, so I turned it into a prompt!

Rook:

            You’re so still against the touch of his lips. You’re still even after he pulls away. His chest buzzes so loud it echoes in his ears. You don’t move, not even the flutter of your lashes and he should have known. How can he be your true love, when he spent so many years running away?

            Whoever it is, would look you in the eyes when you said you loved them. They’re someone who would have taken you in their arms instead of turning away again and again. He sinks to his knees, hands clutching at the side of the bed where you lay. Tears burn at his eyes, but not a single one falls.

            Even before he made this foolish decision, he knew. All that’s left is to find the one could wake up. If you’re life lays in the hands of someone else, a fact he always knew, then so be it.

            He’ll let you go, like he should have so long ago. He will. He just needs another moment here with you before he turns away. He needs to hear your heartbeat and the cadence of your breathing for one last time.

            Time passes as slow as honey, thick and opaque. His body is listless. In the silence, your breath catches and he blinks. Turns. You take another shaky breath, and when your eyes open, he’s on his feet.

            “MC!” He gathers you in his arms, holding on tight. “Oh, thank god. I thought I lost you. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

            His forehead falls against your shoulder, and the tears finally fall. Your awake, your body is warm. And maybe, just maybe, he really does have a chance to make things right.

Beck:

            When you don’t move after he pulls away, he doesn’t waver. Magic is strange, it can effect everyone differently, and with how much magic has affected you, he isn’t concerned that there isn’t an immediate response.

            Instead, he takes a seat next to where you lay. He brings his knees up to his chest and tells you about all the things you’ve missed. The first flowers of spring, the new used bookstore that opened up on the corner, school events, and class drama.

            The time ticks down, and it pricks at his heart. He keeps talking. About himself, about his life, about how he first fell for you, about how you are the warmth of the fire on a winter day, and if even if he isn’t your true love, then that’s ok. He’s just so glad he was able to have any time with you at all.

            At some point, his throat is dry and he’s run out of words. What can he say, as the sky turns a dusty orange. He swallows, eyes fluttering closed and feel the first of the tears fall. If it isn’t him to wake you up, then who will it be? And how long will you be cursed to sleep until they find you?

            A world without your laugh is far worse than a world where the two of you aren’t meant to be.

            Then.

            You shift beside him, and he goes still. When he looks, he sees your eyes flutter open, eyebrows furrowing as you look at him.

            “…You’re awake.” He says, voice barely above a whisper. He brushes his fingers against your cheek, so impossibly gently. “You’re awake.”

            He laughs, a watery, trembly sort of laugh, as he runs a thumb against your cheek. You’ll still be with him.

Rhea:

            “Please wake up.” She whispers, kneeling next to you. There is no sign the kiss did anything. It’s fine, this isn’t the end of the world. She has had the logic of magic seared into her brain, and she knows how it works. She’ll wait. She can wait.

            But still, you remain still. She gets up and moves around, to give her body something to do as she waits. She’s not good at that, waiting. She always needs to be in the midst of doing something. Making progress. When something’s out of her hands like this, she feels like she’s in freefall.

            There might be a chance, she thinks as time ticks by, that you and her aren’t the ones for each other. Somehow, it makes the anxious energy in her gut easier to deal with. As long as she doesn’t think of the heartbreak that will hit the moment she leaves your side, it gives her a plan. Something to work towards. Steps to map out to figure out where to go from here and how to wake you up. The process of even finding the one who could do so.

            She’s on step four when your fingers twitch. She goes still in response. All her thoughts scatter. Like a deer in headlights she watches you, wondering if it was just her imagination. But then your body shifts and she’s next to you again, softly calling your name.

            “MC? Can you…can you hear me darling?” When you blink away, she feels a smile bloom despite herself. You’re awake and well and still hers.

Zoe:

            There’s doubt in their chest even before they press a kiss against your lips. For it to be them? They’re not the kind of person who makes it into fairytales. They know this. Stories are the sort of thing they’ve studied their entire life. They exist on the other side of the glass, able to peer in but never able to be.

            As you remain still, they stand and lean back on their heel. Whoever your true love is, it isn’t them. It isn’t that they doubt your love, but it’s hard to imagine that kind of forever for them. If this was the fate they were dealt, then so be it. And even so, you were their first love, and that’s a kind of special whatever comes next can’t take away. Even on different paths, even living different lives, you can both still be a fond memory for the other.

            But god, they’ve never experience heartbreak either or the way it collides into their body and leaves them breathless. They wanted this. Every moment with you was a dream they never thought they’d get a chance to see. They were awkward and clumsy, and they were the luckiest person alive to have been able to met you.

            They press a hand against their mouth, to stop the sob that’s trying to break through them. The image of you blurs as tears collect in their eyes and stream down their cheeks. They squeeze their eyes shut, trying to collect themselves.

            It’s why it startles them, when they feel a hand reaching out, “…Zoe?”

            They choke on a gasp, eyes flying open to see you awake. You’ve pulled yourself up, and your eyes are open. It strikes them so suddenly, they all but throw themselves against you. Any embarrassment they used to feel is gone. They’ll never let themselves hesitate again.

Lars:

            “You would get yourself cursed.” He whispered against your lips as he pulls away. He doesn’t believe in true love or soulmates. For a curse to be based on the concept, it must make it the flimsiest curse to have been made. All it really needs is love and faith and stubbornness. Maybe his faith is lacking, but he sure as hell can make up for it with stubbornness.

            So he waits. He leans his head back, closes his eyes, and wonders how long it will take. His hand toys with your fingers absently. With you asleep, you won’t be able to comment on the display. He still remembers when you said you loved him, the look in your eyes that left no room for doubt. He thought you were making a terrible decision, but he wasn’t one to complain. Your terrible decision, just lead to his great decision to go along with it.

            The time passes slow, but the anxiety never comes. That isn’t who he is. Not when he’s sure about this, or at least more sure about it then whatever magic was used on you. And even if the kiss doesn’t wake you up, he’ll just find whoever cursed you in the first place and make them reap the consequences.

            When he feels your hand move, slipping your fingers between his, he sighs, “About time you got up.”

            “Lars? My hand—”

            “Don’t get used to it.” You laugh, the sound scratchy from sleep, and he feels his body relax. It was nice to have you back.

???:

            They know your souls are too entwined to have a doubt. That doesn’t not mean there won’t be blood on their hands for what was done to you. How dare someone curse the one they love. How dare someone put their hands on you.

            They’re kiss is so painfully soft despite the violent rage in their chest. It’s been so long since they’ve felt this burning under their skin. Did the Curse Giver think you were alone and unloved? Did they not realize you had someone who was entwined with you in every way, down to the way you take a breath.

            The wraiths flicker around them, agitated by the tremble in their body. They keep close to you, body curved as a way to shield you from the rest of the earth. If you don’t wake soon, they’re hands will find a blade, and that blade will find a body. The wraiths whisper amongst each other, as though capable of soothing them.

            “But you were cursed even before this, weren’t you?” They breathe, pressing another kiss to your forehead. You shift beneath them, and when they pull away you open your eyes.

            You say their name, and the sound of it wraps around them. They have a Curse Giver to kill, but for now, they only lay down beside you, and ask if you’re ok. You’ve been asleep for so long, and it took too long to get to you. They’ll never be late again.

#em answers #ch: rook #ch: beck #ch: rhea #ch: zoe #ch: lars #ch: ??? #true loves kiss in the world of fairytales? more likely then you think #also got to write angry ??? for the first time let's goooo

[coexistentialism]

I've talked about these things a lot on this blog, so a lot of this might be repeated things I've talked about before, but I've always said that I've described my experiences as "identity hyperfixations", where I latch onto things, even just Words that I find myself really liking, and an "identity" is "created" based around that Thing.

For some examples from my personal experiences!:

A lot of the time, these "identity hyperfixations" involve me latching onto media, particularly whatever current media we may or may not be interested in in the moment.

There's a game called Stray Gods: the Roleplaying Musical (pls play it omg pls-nJFNDSK). We were very attached to that game for a while when it came out and we found out about it. We particularly grew attached to the character Calliope and for about maybe 2 weeks or so? I thought about using the name Calliope at times, and I painted my nails yellow to match the color of her nails in the game. I wanted to dress like her and overall you can see where this is all going lmfao

Or recently where we were very attached to Splatoon (it's our main special interest, but the way we feel, play, and interact with the game and fandom and such online differs per parts!!) and 'I' identified as an octoling and just thought of myself with the name Octo, mostly as a placeholder because I couldn't think of anything better, but I grew to like it lmfao. Ofc I am always interested in Splatoon, but recently I was just much more interested in it and particularly interested in specific aspects and such, even ended up creating another blog, a Splatoon-centered blog that also functions as a sort of vent/DID-related blog (it's @annaki-octo if anyone wants to check it out lol)

You can, again, see where this is going. Incoming long post. Because I can never make a short post lmfao

I should also mention that, in the past, I often wouldn't actually ever use a different name, and I still don't, but I've more recently been doing that for a bit now because we're starting to get used to it and be okay with it and honestly it's been beneficial. But yeah, most of my life, I usually didn't outright actually use any separate names outwardly with people, and didn't even really realize that I was choosing different names for myself in the first place because I thought that I was just creating characters. And if I DID end up outwardly using a different name, it was excused as me choosing a different name because I'm trans or making up a "fake online pseudonym" for "privacy" reasons. It has never been any different to me than creating a character. It's still not.

This is basically EXACTLY what my experience is like, day-to-day/week-to-week/month-to-month.

They never really last long, and a new "identity hyperfixation" quickly follows, while the other one dies out.

And it usually goes like this, in the image above (it might be hard to read, sorry lol, but I'm describing it anyways so dw):

--- Concepts/ideas/etc. Pop Up Into My Brain:

May be thinking about the idea of using a different name

May be really invested in a new, or "re-new'd" interest (as in: something I liked in the past and I am now interested in it again after a long period of disinterest)

May prefer certain gendered terminology (or no, or different 'gendered' terminology), for example, boyfriend/girlfriend/partner (or something/anything else)

May prefer certain pronouns over others, and/or may struggle to know what kind of pronouns I like

May be thinking about changing our icon to something different than before (on Discord, Tumblr, etc.)

May be thinking about creating a new Tumblr side blog (with or without a ""fake name attached to it, definitely not an alter :)"" spoiler alert: it's usually an alter lmfao)

May or may not think about what it would be like the have a particular physical attribute(?), not sure how to word this lol, like I'll think about how I wished my hair looked a certain way, or sometimes if it's possible, I might actually do something to change my physical appearance somehow, even if it's just wearing a specific clothing piece, but sometimes it can be like with my Calliope example where I paint my nails a particular color, or I actually dye or cut my hair, etc... The possibilities can be endless and can even be much bigger changes, such as alters making the decision to go on HRT.

--- An 'Identity' Begins to 'Solidify'

May have found a name, or a 'placeholder name' to use

May like using a specific icon (on Tumblr, on Discord, etc.) or icons, or may like using icons with a common theme/visual appearance/etc. (such as using icons that feature the color blue a lot, or using icons of a specific character, etc.)

May become much more self-aware and confident in their existence

May or may not have created a new side blog, with or without a particular name attached to that blog

--- An 'Identity' Diminishes; start from the beginning

May no longer care for, or like, the previous name(s) or placeholder(s) names that we may have chosen

May no longer care for, or like, the previous icon(s) we used, the Tumblr blog(s) we may or may not have made, etc.

For as long as I can remember, this has been my experience with DID - or at least, NOW I understand that it's been DID all along.

And the cycle continues.

Nothing really ever "comes back." It's just "new" "identity" after "new" "identity" after "new" "identity" for me, day in and day out, week-to-week, month-to-month.

Not sure how to close off this post, but yeah lmfao

#my posts #actuallydid #actuallyosdd #polyfrag system #polyfragmented did #complex did #polyfrag did #polyfragmented system

[isa-ghost]

Isa my darling! Happy Birthday, albeit a couple of days early.

Seeing you screech in Philza's streams because Apollo hit you with that dodgeball yet again makes me giggle a lot.

How about since headcanon's for qPhilza's past/pre island relationship with qFit. How they got to know each other, and how quickly they became friends?

Idr if I said this on Tumblr yet but deadass I asked Apollo on my pendulum if qPhil is his blorbo and he said yes. He's been as invested in shit as me and it's been hilarious. I literally have crows yelling at me irl to keep writing rn but I'm answering headcanons first.

The entire time I've been distracted between writing these, crows have been yelling at me about it. Which. Is how Apollo communicates with me when I'm not actively talking to him through readings LMFAO.

Also thank you for the birthday wish :D [desperately hoping nothing else horrible happens this weekend please god]

Anyway qPhil headcanons masterlist let's go

Disclaimer that I didn't know of Fit before QSMP (I've only been in mcyt for 4 years monkaS) so these are gonna be largely pulled out of my ass and a lil repetitive.

These two both have experiences in anarchy and war, they've definitely brushed shoulders a couple times bc of it

They admired each other's work ofc. Phil is a macro scale kinda guy, total annihilation and victory that makes a statement. Fit's more of a micro scale kinda guy, zeroing in on one person or group individually and making their lives hell until the end in the name of surviving a little longer

On that note, I think we all sleep a little bit on the fact that Fit is Also a survivalist like Phil, just in a very different set of high stakes conditions. These two are equally skilled in it and equally sharp strategists

On that note, anyone who knew them from the past would fear the idea of them coming together to create a plan of any kind, especially of the anarchist-fueled variety. If the Federation has done their research right, they should know full well how terrifying this duo could be in an effort to dismantle their authority

Btw by brushing shoulders I don't just mean brief passings by, I mean they've like. Camped out for a night together, temporarily truced for the sake of safety in numbers, etc. More than a few conversations have been had even if the time they've spent together totals to less than a week.

However, even when they weren't actively paired together, they'd still occasionally trade or gift each other surplus resources. It was a genuine kind act, even if it simultaneously served as a reason for each of them to not come after the other. I scratch your back, you scratch mine.

Like why do you think Fit was one of the first threats on Phil's mind in Purgatory. He Knew(tm). And he knew Fit has an affinity for picking off the weak first, like a lion after a herd of antelope. To him, Purgatory was the awakening of a monster who'd been dormant for a long time.

See, present day they're QPR as fuck, they'd never do this now without 10x the pressure Purgatory put on them, but back in the day they took close notes on each other's strengths and weaknesses. Just In Case, yknow? They could very much kill each other. Back in the day they would've if it came to it, no matter how good an ally they were.

Something about how these two used to be so cold and hard to the world. Be it to self-preserve or some other reason. Something about how now they've both softened and warmed after becoming parents. They never could've imagined the other would "weaken" like this, especially back then.

Phil 🤝🏻 Fit - Phil being a historian of the deities/builds of his Hardcore World, Fit being a historian of 2B2T

A lot of this boils down to mutual respect, common interests, and secret admiration tbh. And what's more homoerotic than that?

#qsmp #qsmp philza #qsmp fitmc #qsmp fit #qsmp fitza #qsmp veterans #qphil headcanons #AMFMN things #<- bc these apply to the fic

[shigarakisslutbag]

PLS DO SHIGGY THIGH FUCKING HCS thank u ily

I honestly didn't think I'd write on here again but I can't sleep and it's like 5:30 in the morning lol. So I'll write some thigh fuckin' headcanons to ease the stress 😎 (also TW: for thigh fucking, somnophilia, long post in general LMFAO. If I missed anything I apologize. Also it's now 6:19 after finishing it so there's probably typos I've missed after briefly skimming this so Im also sorry for that LMFAO)

(EDIT after writing. I'm so sorry this ended up not being headcanons and was just a full on drabble I found of pulled out of my ass but I hope you still enjoy it lol)

Now truthfully I havent even watched/finished the seasons after season 4 lol. I'm in the middle of season 5 still because I'm severely depressed and can't enjoy anything. But that doesn't mean I don't still love shigaraki and tbh I still read fanfiction from time to time about him or dabi.

I feel like a lot of people paint shigaraki as either absolutely vile and grimey or just aloof and soft with a grumpy attitude. And I feel like it's a bit of both. Which really plays into his sex life (if he'll ever have one). But even without a sex life, his personality most certainly plays into his fantasies and kinks.

I want to also emphasize that fantasies are just that, fantasies. Shigaraki most likely has plenty of fantasies that he'd never dream of acting out with his partner should he ever have one. I feel like even if he had some sick fantasies or kinks, and you happened to be okay with it, he would still be iffy because if this man, for whatever reason, picked you out of everyone else?? He's not going to treat you like absolute garbage. Shigaraki is definitely not the nicest person by any means, but by God if he cares about someone he fucking cares. Esp because you're probably the only person who actually loves him in his entirety. So if he's into noncon, somnophilia, predator/prey play, or whatever, it's going to be a while before he gets comfortable bringing up any of those fantasies with you.

Now that I've gotten that out of the way, you're wondering "goddamnit ash shut the fuck up and tell me the thigh f-" wELL THATS TOO DAMN BAD YOU LISTEN TO SEGGSY MONOLOGUE OR YOU GET NOTHING. ty luv u.

Okay so his fantasies right ? What are shigarakis kinks ? Does he have any? Oh absolutely. And they range from either something as light and soft as hickeys and tying you up in silk while eating you out for 2 hours to nipple clamps and making you wail with hot tears and shoving a dildo down your throat telling you take it like you've taken every other mans cock down your throat because he knows stupid sluts like you are always capable of doing those things if you know it'll make your pussy soak the sheets.

Now it's not his top fantasy, but thigh fucking. And God do you have the prettiest thighs. It doesn't matter is there's stretch marks, if they're chubby, skinny, or if you have immense scarring on them he LOVES them. He loves how soft they are. He loves how they look in shorts or a skirt (esp when you keep trying to pull them down a bit because they're a size smaller than what you wanted so they don't pudge out). He loves how your delicate hands lay on top of your thighs while you fiddle with your fingers out of nervousness. He loves the way they move when he walks behind you, you have a walk that puts any model to shame. He just loves them . And by God does he throb at thought of getting to push his cock past your sweaty or oily thighs. The head of his dick barely kissing your clit each time he thrusts. But that's not the biggest and best part at all. He wants to wake you up to it. You've told him countless times he can wake you up to any sexual acts but he's still nervous. But he's really horny right now. And you're sweaty from the lack of AC and you're naked on your side sleeping away. But he genuinely can't think of anything else other than how wet your pussy must be right now and how slick your thighs must be from the heat of the room. His cock is absolutely aching to slide between your thighs and folds. He has never felt so hungry until he met someone with a body as inviting as your own. He's been stroking for the past couple minutes but it's just not enough .

He peels off the throw blanket you have over you because despite the heat you always love your blanket to sleep. But even after the blanket is removed you still don't wake . He slowly examines your body and grazes his hand down your body. Going over your shoulders and arms to ribs to hip bone. Finally meets that beautiful soft ass of yours. He gentle lifts your thigh to angle and can see your pussy . Its so wet and glistening from the lights on the street coming in through your window, beaming in and lighting up your skin to a beautiful warm glow.

He lifts up one of your slick folds, seeing your pretty clit and rubbing his thumb in tiny circles on it. He can't take it anymore and slides his cock between your thighs, his shaft rubbing your leaking pussy and making your clit throb even more. You may be asleep but your cunt is always awake and ready to be touched by him.

He starts thrusting slowly to building up that pressure in his groin to make his orgasm feel even better in the end. He can feel you coating his shaft with your juices more and more with each desperate thrust he makes to your thighs. Your thighs are so sweaty and warm and grip his dick so nicely taking any and every drop of cum he wants to and could ever give you. He can hear slight wet sounds coming from your cunt with each thrust that keeps getting more rapid and animalistic with each thrust because you dont know how to stop being such a needy whore all the time even in your sleep. Before he knows it you're gushing and your cum is on the sheets making him go over the edge. Now he's spitting thick, white shots of cum all over your thighs while drops of it roll down your skin onto the bed as well. You're still mostly asleep, but youve adorned a dazed smile on your face with a satisfied tomura passed out next you .

#somnophilia #my stuff #stuff #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura x reader #shimura tenko #shigaraki drabble #tenko shimura

[bad-mixed-lib-dyke]

Read This First

So... clearly I'm going through something

I can not stress this enough, if you are under 18:

GO ON, GIT, GET OUTTA HERE

I'm just someone out here fetishizing their trauma

I'm 32, mixed, AFAB, probably TransMasc but gender is hard, She/Her is fine.

Out on the streets, I'm about as liberal as they come. But in these Tumblr sheets... well... I'm working through some shit lmfao

Likely to find topics such as:

misogyny 〰 patriarchy 〰 detrans 〰 corrective NC

Ya know... everything I'm not

IF ANY OF THIS IS ON YOUR DNI AND I REPOSTED FROM YOU

Then I reposted from somewhere other than your blog, it was unintentional, I'm sorry! please message me with the post and I will gladly remove it!

I don't like intense violence/degradation. Punching and kicking? You've lost me. "stupid fleshlight cumrag"? Absolutely the fuck not.

And I think hypno spirals and sounds are usually boring

More about the coercion and mental stuff

That being said: My DMs are currently open

Do not call me cunt at all. Do not open with anything like bitch, dummy, or whore as a name.

If there is something specific I posted that's inspired you, best to open the message with the post so we can be on the same page.

If you message me wanting to RP you better be able to

~*write*~

I can have pretty low patience for things easily found in porn (if you can easily find it, you should do that, you don't need me).

No images without obtained consent.

Can't think of anything else... if you continue after reading this, then welcome, dirty, dirty degenerates of Tumblr dot com