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gimmethatagustd · 1 year

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who's your bias? | kth

Everyone says idols shouldn’t date their fans. Little did you know the crazy sasaengs aren't the ones who might ruin your relationship. It might just be your boyfriend's best friends.

» pairing: idol!taehyung x music producer girlfriend!reader

» wc/date: 12.6k | January 2023

» notes: this was entirely self-indulgent 😂 i hope my taehyung whores enjoy my first idol au oneshot. also i wrote 80% of this while i was high and with no beta so if it's bad, now you know why

» masterlist | ao3 | join my taglist

» what was jai listening to? impatient - jeremih ft. ty dolla $ign

“Y/N, stop it right now.”

Your boyfriend breathes the command faster than you can even open your mouth to greet him. With a roll of your eyes, you put your phone on speaker and sit it on the floor beside you. Rummaging through the cardboard boxes littering your apartment is easier done with both hands.

“Why hello, Taehyung. What a pleasure to hear from you.”

“Are you seriously mad at me right now?” From the whine in his voice you’re positive he’s wearing a deep pout, bottom lip jutting out as far as it can. You love kissing his pouts away.

But not this time! And not just because you’re on opposite sides of the world.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep? It’s so late there and I’m sure you’re very tired from displaying your dick to all of America for three hours.”

The cardboard box in front of you has “BEDROOM” scribbled in your father’s handwriting on the side in thick, black Sharpie. It’s full of little trinkets and random decor. A Shooky plushie is crammed into the corner in between a cracked Army bomb and a small framed photo of you with your parents. You smile to yourself despite your boyfriend’s huffing over the phone. Your father had given you a strange look as he helped you pack the items as if to ask, Really? Do you really need these?

Just because you’re dating a member of BTS now doesn’t mean you can’t cherish your old BTS merch! It’s not weird, in your opinion. It would only be weird if you made it weird. And you weren’t making it weird.

“I did not display my dick!”

You roll your eyes for probably the fifth time while you ponder where to put Shooky. You'd kept it on your dresser in your old home in the States. Something tells you Taehyung won’t appreciate the lack of a Tata beside it.

“You were thrusting and throwing it around! And pointing at it while doing it, too!”

“Y/N!”

“Don’t Y/N me! I have my TikTok evidence!”

With your cracked Army bomb in hand, you open the app in question, scrolling through your favorited videos until you get to the one. The one uploaded only a day before. The one you’d texted to Taehyung which prompted his immediate phone call.

“And what does the caption say?” you ask but then cut Taehyung off before he can answer the question. “It says, and I quote, ‘I will never forget Taehyung doing this. I looped this for hours. Kim Taehyung lives in my head rent-free.’ Hashtag Taehyung. Hashtag HipsDon’tLie. With the woozy face emoji. And do we need to discuss the music choice?”

“Y/N, can you please-”

“Slut Me Out,” you deadpan in a monotone voice. “That is the song they chose for you.”

The other end is silent for so long you start to feel bad. Every time your jealousy spikes, you seem to act on impulse rather than thinking through how you might make Taehyung feel. Yes, he sometimes plays his part in the group a little too well, but you also knew that this was his job. It’s his job to make people get excited - excited for the music, the group, and himself as an idol.

Still, your opinion is the most important to him, and you know that.

“Jagiya…” Taehyung sniffles and you feel your heart shatter.

Fuck, you really are a bitch, aren’t you?

“Tae, I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know, I didn’t really think anything of it. It’s just an act, y’know?”

You did know. Away from the stage and the cameras, Taehyung is quiet, almost shy. He’s happy to be a silent observer of whatever chaos his members create. He gifts everyone with puffy cheeks and boxy grins, sometimes a boisterous laugh that manages to make your heart soar every time. But the soft-spoken soul you listen to old school R&B with while you smoke strawberry swisher blunts on the balcony late into the night, and convince that yes, the apartment is soundly built and no, the balcony will not randomly fall out beneath you… That person is different from the person you see wearing a resting bitch face in interviews or the person who chews away at imaginary gum during concerts.

You find all versions of Taehyung endearing, although the fake gum chewing is kind of embarrassing if you wanted to be perfectly honest.

“I know, Tae. I’m sorry I’m being judgmental for no reason,” you insist and you hope he believes you. Complaints about his idol status typically resulted in red eyes and sniffles, yet sometimes you couldn’t stop yourself from pushing his pressure points despite his sensitivity.

Your apology puts Taehyung in a better mood because his following comment is cheekier than you expect.

“You get jealous a lot, jagi.” His smug tone is close to bringing back your irritation.

“I am not jealous of some fans in a stadium, thanks.”

“Good,” he says more cheerfully. “‘Cause I only have sights for you.”

That makes you laugh and you feel your earlier heaviness disappear. “You mean, you only have eyes for me?”

“Isn’t that what I said?”

You shake your head as if Taehyung can see you. A few photo strips are beneath Shooky in the cardboard box. You silently curse your father (respectfully and endearingly) for casually placing something so fragile in the bottom of a box. The photos are of you and Taehyung in a photo booth at a birthday party for an idol you didn’t know. An actor, you think. You thumb at one of the corners of the photo strip that has curled inward. Taehyung’s hair was straight then, and short, falling just above his ears. You much prefer the thick waves he wears now.

“You’re so cute.”

“Only for you.”

“Oh shut up, now you’re being corny.”

You’re not sure why, but you try to suppress the smile Taehyung’s light flirting coaxes out of you, even though he can’t see you. Accepting his teasing affection has always been hard for you. All the boys are too caring; it makes you uncomfortable, but not in a bad way. You’re just not used to men acting like that. They’re all very different from the men you’ve been around growing up. There’s a reason Taehyung can’t listen to you talk about your ex-boyfriends without getting pissed.

“Mmm, maybe. I’m also sleepy,” Taehyung slurs. His voice is so soft you almost can’t hear him, so you lift your phone to your ear rather than use the speaker setting. The smoothness feels like a lullaby gentle enough to carry you to sleep, even though it’s still daylight in Seoul.

“Goodnight, Kim.” You decide for him, knowing he would stay on the phone if you let him.

Confirming your thoughts, Taehyung grumbles when he speaks next. “I love you, jagi.”

“I love you, too.” People always talk about the “honeymoon phase” when the butterflies disappear and couples no longer feel the exciting draw toward each other anymore. It’s been less than a year since you started dating Taehyung, but you’re confident that your heart will always flutter when you hear those three words so confidently spoken. Taehyung had been the first to say it; something about that makes you even more sure of your relationship.

“Can’t wait to see you soon so I can slut you out.”

“... please go to bed and never say that ever again.”

In the distance, you hear someone start yelling. The noise is accompanied by a rather aggressive ruffling sound, as though Taehyung’s phone is being rubbed against fabric.

“Are you two having phone sex?” The second voice accuses, this time sounding much clearer.

“Hyung, leave me alone,” Taehyung whines. “Y/N, tell him to go away.”

You let out a long sigh, but the grin finally cuts through the hardened expression you try to maintain. “Goodnight, Jimin.”

It sounds like the two boys start physically fighting each other before Taehyung lets out a breathy, “Goodnight, baby,” accompanied by Jimin screeching something you can’t understand before the call ends.

With a shake of your head, you leave your phone on the floor and get up to position Shooky and your Army bomb on your dresser. You’ll figure out what to do with it later, you decide.

Later ends up being three more days of you giving a half-assed attempt to sort through the boxes. Your bedroom is mostly organized by the end of the week with only one more box remaining, shoved into the corner of the room. It’s a bunch of family keepsakes that will make you cry if you start looking at them.

Right now you want to make a beeline to the kitchen.

It’s hard not to trip over all the boxes that litter your apartment, most of them already torn open and half-empty. The kitchen hasn’t been fully unpacked, either, so you opt for instant ramen in the microwave rather than dig for utensils to cook a proper meal. It’s pretty bad. You and Taehyung are a terrible match; you both have no idea how to cook. There’s no point in all the fancy kitchenware your parents bought you. You’ll never master any of it. It’s not because you don’t put in any effort, like Taehyung. You’re genuinely shit at cooking.

And baking? That’s even worse.

You stand in the middle of your living room while you shovel ramen in your mouth. It’s too hot, so you inhale loudly through your teeth to cool the food off before it scorches your throat. There’s so much you need to do, and it’s making you nauseous thinking about it. Somewhere in the mix of boxes are your Hangeul textbooks that you should be studying in your free time instead of playing video games and video chatting with your friends. It’s only been a week and a half, but you already feel lonely without the constant presence of your friends and family. The boys have been on tour the entire time. Namjoon decided you moving to Seoul while they’re on tour would make your arrival less suspicious, and everyone would be more focused on the tour than whatever an unknown American music producer is doing.

In your opinion, Namjoon was overthinking the whole thing as he is wont to do. But you let him be bossy because you know his heart is in the right place. It’s not like the public knows you’re dating Taehyung. There hasn’t been any press or rumors about you at all. You’re genuinely unknown.

You prefer it that way.

Your fork scrapes the bottom of the bowl and you realize you’ve scarfed down the ramen without much thought. You suppose it’s easier to do that when you aren’t using chopsticks. (You’ve managed to master them, for the most part, but you prefer to fall back on forks when you’re alone at home.)

You place the bowl on top of the large cardboard box in front of the couch. It has the pieces for your coffee table inside, but you haven’t had the energy to put it together yet. The part of you that allows your feminism to leave your body whenever the boys are around is kind of hoping you can get one of them to build it for you. Maybe Yoongi. He’s into that kind of stuff.

With a sigh, you flop onto the couch and slip your phone out of your back pocket. A few Whatsapp and KakaoTalk notifications light up the screen. You used to be terrible at responding to texts, but moving halfway across the world has made you a better texter. It’s a way to fill the loneliness.

[Alex] hey bitch

[Alex] this 15 hour time difference sucks ass

[You] I’m sorry

[Alex] its fine. i’ll forgive you for chasing money and dick

[You] I’m not chasing dick omg

[Alex] dont lie

[Alex] whats that tiffany pollard meme

[You] Stop

[Alex] i know his dick is big. i know it! i know it’s big!

[You] I hate you

[Alex] you didnt deny it. anywayyy did you see this?

As much as you adore Alex, she’s an expert at getting under your skin. You remind yourself that it’s all harmless as you click on the link she texts you.

BTS' V woos fans with his casual rockstar visuals on his return from world tour

Kim Taehyung, also known professionally as V of BTS, was spotted at John F. Kennedy International Airport on Friday. The singer is reportedly returning early to South Korea ahead of his band members after completing the final performance of their…

You don’t know why you read the shitty k-pop tabloids. You figure it’s the same reason why people make a hobby out of watching bad movies. There’s a weird itch in the back of your brain that can’t be scratched unless you open the link Alex texts you— teasingly, of course, because she thinks she’s being funny. Your friends don’t understand the nauseous feeling you get when you scroll through the article and accidentally click on a link that takes you to an external website flaunting doctored photos of your boyfriend with Jennie Kim.

BTS’ V and BLACKPINK’s Jennie Spend Romantic Weekend in Paris

You know it’s a lie because the weekend in question was the same weekend Taehyung flew you to Seoul to do a final walkthrough of your apartment before you signed off on it. Taehyung spent every second of that weekend by your side.

The article makes you sick anyway.

You’re so caught up in trying to craft a text to Alex to explain why she needs to leave you the fuck alone that you don’t hear the sound of your apartment’s front door open over the music you’re listening to.

“I’m gone for a few months and I come home to you listening to some other band?”

“Holy shit, Tae, you can’t do that to me,” you yelp when Taehyung leans over the back of the couch to hover over your shoulder.

“Explain yourself.” His voice is warm honey and milk even when his strong eyebrows point downward in mock disappointment. The expression is almost convincing, his naturally sharp features making conjuring up a dark appearance easier.

“You can’t tell me Stray Kids’ new album isn’t good.”

“Jagiya, I just got home,” Taehyung whines. “Kiss me and stop thirsting over Australian boys.”

He touches your chin to tip your head backward. You lean your head against the back of the couch and look up at him. The position makes you think of the iconic Spiderman kiss, seeing Taehyung’s face upside down above yours.

“Y’know, I worked on a few of their songs. Before I met you.”

The confession is meant to tease him for making fun of your music choice. Of course, words’ impact often diverges from intent. It’s in the twist of his face and the way he pulls back slightly just before his lips brush against yours that you know you’ve made him jealous.

“Oh did you?” His hair hangs around his face as he leans over you.

“Mhm, Bang Chan’s accent is really cu—”

You shouldn’t be shocked when strong hands squeeze your waist and Taehyung hauls you off the couch to stand in front of him. He wraps his arm around your waist to pull you tightly against his chest.

“You didn’t work with any other groups before us, okay?”

You purse your lips to hold in the laughter that threatens to explode from your chest. All you can do is nod in agreement. It reminds you of girls getting upset when they remember their boyfriends dated other people before them.

“Good.”

Taehyung dips his head down to connect his lips with yours. The closeness of his body forces you to inhale his cologne and feel goosebumps travel down your arms. It’s been months since you’ve so much as held Taehyung’s hand and you feel like you’ve been starved. Your body trembles so severely that you dig your nails into his biceps to hold yourself upright. You moan into his mouth, already open and ready for you because Taehyung is nothing but giving.

The kiss isn’t bruising, not yet. It’s slow and deep. Taehyung takes his time reminding himself of your taste. You grip the nape of his neck to pull him down as you meet him by standing on your tiptoes. His height has always been one of your favorite aspects of his physical appearance. Dark, watchful eyes that pierce into your soul might be at the top of the list.

His tongue swirls around yours, only retreating to suck your bottom lip into his mouth. His teeth graze along the plump skin, each nibble making you dizzy in the head. You normally hate wet kisses, but there’s something satisfying about seeing Taehyung’s lips pink and shiny with your spit when he finally pulls away. Pride thrums in your chest; you did that. You made his tan skin flush pink. You made his eyes dark and sharp. You made his breathing ragged and desperate.

And, fuck, does it feel good.

You run your fingers along his sharp jawline and watch the muscles flex beneath his taunt skin. “Don’t clench your jaw like that. It’s not good for you,” you muse, allowing your fingers to skim over his Adam’s apple.

“I’m trying to stay calm.”

Your eyebrows fly up with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Wanna bend you over the couch and fuck you until you can’t walk,” Taehyung says with such a gentle tone that the stark difference between what he says and how he says it has your body trembling once again.

You inhale sharply and let your hand fall from his throat. Instead, you reach for the lapels of his leather jacket and squeeze them.

“Why don’t you?”

You can’t look at him when you ask. Even though you’ve been dating for almost a year, Taehyung still intimidates the hell out of you sometimes. The darkness of his eyes when he gets horny sends you reeling. You’re sure if you look up, you’ll see The Look. He stares at you unabashedly with an expression of desire so strong you feel like he might consume you just by looking at you.

“You haven’t eaten yet and I need to take a shower.”

“How do you know I haven’t eaten yet?” With a pout, you finally dare to look your boyfriend in the face. The way he gapes at you is judgmental and doesn’t make you feel devour-worthy at all.

“I know you,” he scoffs. “You’re just like Jimin. I bet you haven’t even been awake more than two hours.”

Barely a year into your relationship and he’s already reading you like an open book. You can’t stay salty about it when his bread cheeks come out and he’s giggling at the frustrated “hmph” you let out.

“I’ll be fast,” he promises with a smirk that collapses into another fit of giggles. The hearty slap on your ass encourages you toward the kitchen while Taehyung makes his way to the bathroom.

You did already eat, but today is an outlier. Normally, you are like Jimin, staying up too late and sleeping in longer than everyone else. And sometimes you’re like Yoongi, too. You get so caught up in the songs you’re working on that you forget to stop to eat or pee or look somewhere other than at a computer screen.

The move to Seoul threw you off your usual work schedule. Everything you need to get done is looming over your head like a dark cloud. If Namjoon comes back before you finish editing the English lyrics of his upcoming single, you might die of embarrassment, no matter how many times Taehyung insists that Namjoon won’t be disappointed.

Taehyung wasn’t lying about being quick. He’s wearing a white cotton t-shirt and grey sweatpants when he returns, hair damp and swept away from his face. You’re still standing at the fridge, painfully aware of how little food you have. Plenty of grapefruit soju, though. Priorities.

“Do you want ramen?” You eventually ask. When Taehyung doesn’t respond, you turn to give him a sheepish smile. He probably thinks you’re ridiculous.

Taehyung is sitting at the kitchen table with your phone in his hands. His eyebrows scrunch together and he turns to you with narrowed eyes.

“Why were you looking at this?”

He lifts your phone in your direction. The doctored photos of him and Jennie glare back at you. You feel your heart drop into the pit of your stomach.

“Tae, I didn’t—” You snap your mouth shut because, honestly, it looks bad. It looks bad no matter how you explain yourself because Taehyung’s bottom lip is already quivering and you know you’re both replaying the stupid TikTok phone call in your heads right now.

The two of you stare at each other for only god knows how long. You’re the first to break; not many people can hold their own in a staring contest with Kim Taehyung. Yoongi is probably the only one. Jungkook would give a valiant effort, but he’d ultimately crumble in a fit of nervous giggles. Taehyung is scary when he wants to be.

Dating Taehyung started as an unbelievably exciting experience. You had your brush with fame before meeting the boys, but Taehyung was the first idol to give you genuine attention beyond whatever job needed to be done. Not that you’d ever sought it out; you had more dignity than that. No, Taehyung pursued you. Who could blame you when you fell head over heels for the sinfully gorgeous man who seemed larger than life? The long legs, big hands, and chiseled features were dangerous enough. Throw in a glowing personality, quirky sense of humor, and a big-hearted desire to care for others and you had a man who was too good to be true.

And who are you? Some dumb American kid with average looks, a standoff personality as a result of having a bit of social anxiety (and trouble acclimating to a new country), and a penchant for fucking things up. Maybe it was your fault for not seriously considering how hard it was going to be to date an idol.

“C’mere, jagi,” Taehyung murmurs, beckoning you.

You expected waterworks— hell, you’re ready to start crying yourself. Instead, Taehyung wears a tired but soft smile. He holds your waist as you climb into his lap, straddling him. He wiggles a little in the chair to adjust you more comfortably on his thighs.

“Koreaboo, really?” He gathers your face in his hands, thumbs running across your cheeks. His hands are soft and you regret not washing your face when you woke up. Sometimes it’s not fun to date someone as beautiful as Taehyung.

“It was an accident.”

You avoid his gaze, but Taehyung coaxes you back to look him in the eyes. It’s hard. There’s so much passion swimming in them. He blinks up at you with an earnestness that makes your heart ache because you’re always the one causing problems.

“They could have at least used better pictures of me,” he complains with an exaggerated pout.

“Maybe I’ll send them some from my private collection.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Taehyung grins as he threatens you, so you grin back.

“Oh, I dare.”

Quick fingers dig into your sides and you let out an embarrassing squeal. Taehyung doesn’t let up on tickling you until you’ve got tears in your eyes and your threats to elbow him in the face start sounding a bit too real.

“Please don’t torture yourself with shit like that, okay?” He mumbles the request into your neck because your arms are thrown around his shoulders.

You slide your fingers into his hair to cradle his head against your chest. When you dig your nails into his scalp he lets out a low groan. Nothing about the position you’re in is sexual, but you’re quickly reminded that this is the most skin-on-skin contact you’ve had with your boyfriend in months. With that fact in mind, you don’t feel bad when you scoot further into his lap and squeeze his thighs with your own.

“Tae?”

“Hmm?” When he tilts his head back to look up at you, he’s got that spacey, blissed-out look on his face.

“Tell me you love me.” You place your finger against the little freckle on the tip of his nose.

The slow, boxy grin is almost better than hearing the words. Your finger migrates to touch the freckle on his lip.

“I love you with all my heart.” He punctuates the confession with a kiss on the tip of your finger. “Your turn.”

You roll your eyes, but it’s the reaction he’s looking for.

“I love you, too. You dork.”

“So romantic,” he laughs, but the amusement doesn’t reach his eyes. Instead, he watches you with lust darker than what consumed his expression earlier.

You sit with your breath burning in your lungs as Taehyung slips his hands beneath your baggy t-shirt. His smooth palms slide up your rib cage until he reaches your tits, palming one in each hand. The tilt of his chin tells you he wants another kiss, and who are you to deny him what he wants? You dig your nails in his hair harder while you kiss him, tugging to angle his head in the direction you want. Small moments like this give the appearance that you’re in control. And Taehyung loves domming while you both pretend you’re the one in charge.

He pulls back with a wet smack. If it was anyone else, you’d be ashamed of the whimper that sounds from your throat as Taehyung removes his hands from your shirt. You grip his hair tighter, but Taehyung just chuckles.

“So needy. What am I going to do with you?”

You could give him a couple of ideas. There isn’t time, though. Taehyung is already grasping your chin and tilting it down.

“Open up for me, okay?”

Your cheeks grow hot as you open your mouth. You already know where this is going, so you stick out your tongue. Still, it’s difficult not to squirm when Taehyung presses his index and middle fingers flat against the wet muscle.

“Suck.”

You swallow around his fingers, sucking as best you can as he begins to thrust them into your mouth. It’s vulgar, the wet suctioning sound of his fingers dragging against your tongue. In and out, a steady pace that doesn’t go too fast. Taehyung has such long, gorgeous fingers. You quite enjoy when he wrecks your insides with them until you’re on the brink of tears. Which you’ve come to find is something Taehyung thoroughly enjoys doing.

“You miss having your pretty mouth stuffed?”

You know any attempt at a spoken response will come out as a garbled mess. You whimper, eyes fluttering closed as you swirl your tongue around his fingers. You push your tongue in between his fingers and curl around them.

“Gonna suck my cock like this, jagi?” He purrs the question, ending it so breathy it’s almost a moan as he eases over the term of endearment. “Show me how much you miss me, hm?”

Maybe it’s the deep, sensual way he purrs jagi with heavy eyelids and that crooked smirk on his face. Maybe it’s because he bites his lip when he says it or that he lets his lip go with such slowness that you can see the way his teeth scrape across his plump bottom lip as it falls back into place. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s shoving his fingers just a bit deeper into your mouth. Maybe it’s all of these things that make you shift so that you can press your clothed pussy against Taehyung’s thigh.

He flexes the muscle as you start rutting against it, rolling your hips to the rhythm of his fingers gliding in and out of your mouth.

“Look at you.” His lips brush against the curve of your ear, sending a shiver down your back. “So desperate for me that you’re going to get off on only my thighs?”

You’re not the type to be able to orgasm just from rutting and friction like this, but Taehyung has managed to learn your body faster than you ever expected. He slips his free hand beneath the waistband of your leggings and underwear. It’s the quick circling of his thumb against your throbbing clit combined with the rutting of your hips that sends you over the edge.

“That’s it, baby, you did so well,” Taehyung whispers praise against the skin his lips have access to on your collarbones as you shudder in his lap. “Love seeing you cum, fuck, doing this shit over KakaoTalk fucking sucked.”

Taehyung finally removes his fingers from your mouth when you stop moving. Seeing the string of spit that connects his fingers to your lips makes you feel weak, but you’re riding the high of his praise and skillful fingers, so you don’t care.

He wipes your spit onto his sweatpants and gently holds your chin with his other hand. He gives you a soft smile and rubs his thumb over your bottom lip. You can taste yourself when you flick your tongue over the trail his thumb left.

“I missed you so much,” he admits with a gentle kiss on your lips. “And not just because of this. I missed all of you, everything about you, just being with you.”

“I missed you, too.”

It’s meant to be a confirmation of your mutual love, but it comes out like a whine. You know Taehyung doesn’t mind from the way his eyes zero in on your tongue running along your bottom lip. You don’t have to say anything more for him to know what you want. He nods once and you’re almost immediately on your knees between his legs.

“Fuck.” He leans back in the chair and lifts his hips so you can tug his sweatpants down his thighs. “Gonna be good for me, baby?”

You quickly nod your head, though you’re focused on gently taking Taehyung’s cock in your hand. Alex isn’t wrong. Taehyung’s dick is big, but that doesn’t mean you have to go around talking about it. That’s for you to know and for others to wonder about.

You had to sign an NDA before you were allowed to see it, anyway, but you’d keep your mouth shut even if no legal action would be taken against you for gossiping.

“Kiss it first.”

He tongues the inside of his cheek as he watches you. His eyelids droop lower when you plant a puckered, open-mouthed kiss on the head of his cock. You press the tip of your tongue against the slit to lick at the precum already leaking from him. The buck of his hips isn’t unexpected, but you feel like you need to remember how to do all of this after being away from him for so long. Not to mention how tired your jaw is about to be.

Taehyung seems to sense your hesitation because he allows his body to go slack beneath you. The hand that has reached down to dig into your scalp doesn’t let up, but he doesn’t push your head down like he normally would when you finally slide his cock down your throat.

He doesn’t buck his hips again, even when you drool so much that the inside of his thighs become just as wet as yours. You squeeze the base of his cock, twisting your wrist to the rhythm you’ve established when you can’t take all of him into your mouth.

You reach down to gently roll his balls with your free hand. His cock twitches against your flattened tongue and you hum with satisfaction.

“God, your fucking mouth–”

You make eye contact with Taehyung as your hand ventures lower. There’s nothing more beautiful than the way his face crumples with pleasure when you massage his perineum.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop,” he whines.

You ease up slightly but still suckle on the head of his cock for longer than Taehyung wants. Why not have a little fun? All you’ll end up doing is riling him up even more, and that can only be a good thing for you.

Taehyung digs his fingers into your hair and yanks you up. It stings, but the pain might as well be white-hot pleasure once Taehyung is praising you with a gravelly voice.

“You’re too fucking good at that.”

You don’t even like sucking dick, but you’d do it all day, every day if Taehyung asked you to. But since he made you stop, you have other priorities to take care of, like the fact that there are way too many layers of clothes separating you from your boyfriend. While you were on your knees for him, Taehyung removed his shirt. The white cotton is discarded on the floor beside the chair and his half-dry hair is tousled around his head in a messiness only he could successfully pull off.

After wiggling out of your leggings and underwear, you climb back onto Taehyung’s lap. His broad chest shudders beneath your touch as you run your hands down to meet his soft tummy. His responsiveness strokes the ego you didn’t realize you have.

“Y’know, you never gave me the chance to ask you how travel went.”

“Seriously?” He knows you’re teasing, but you like the mock-irritated tone of his voice. It makes his chest rumble.

You use your grip on him to stabilize yourself as you grind into his lap. You scrape your nails at the nape of his neck and suck on his bottom lip. Taehyung moans into your mouth, low and throaty, when his cock glides through your wet folds as you roll your hips. He lets you pull his hair, head falling back to expose the smooth plane of his throat. Your lips leave his to latch onto his throat instead. The kisses you give him are slippery and biting and hot.

“No hickeys, Y/N.”

Taehyung’s scolding is deep and sharp; you both know he’s not fucking around. It’s a command he has had to throw your way more than once. The idea of marking him up is just so appetizing, but you know you can’t. Sure, makeup can make just about anything disappear, but it’s annoying to deal with and Taehyung isn’t particularly a fan of the side looks the makeup artists give each other when they see dark bruises littering his neck and collarbones.

Maybe you’ll give him just a tiny one and suffer the consequences later.

You cling onto him tighter when you feel two of his fingers slip inside of you. Spreading your thighs as wide as you can without throwing off your balance on the chair, you roll your hips into Taehyung’s hand to take his fingers deeper.

“Please,” you moan against his neck. You can smell your shampoo and body wash on him. Something about him smelling like you makes you feel overwhelmingly possessive. He’s yours. Kim Taehyung is yours.

He turns his head to the side to capture your lips with his own as he snakes his arm around your waist. The position allows him to pull you tightly against his chest. He holds you in place as he starts thrusting his fingers into your pussy just as he had thrust them into your mouth.

Taehyung grunts as he keeps his legs spread in the chair, which in turn forces your thighs open when you try to squeeze them closed around his hand.

“Stay still.”

“Can’t.” You shake your head and thread your fingers through his hair, tugging the strands harder.

It’s too much; Taehyung lights a fire against every inch of your body each time he touches you. If he was anyone else, you’d be singed, but Taehyung takes such good care of you. You’re not singed. You’re ignited.

“You have no fucking idea,” Taehyung takes a deep breath, “No fucking idea how badly I’ve been craving you.” He warms you up with each thrust of his fingers, adding a third until you’re clawing at his shoulders.

“So, ahh fuck, fuck me,” you gasp, your mouth hot against the corner of his jaw. Your teeth scrape against his skin and he merely lets his head fall back to give you more.

“No please?”

You bite his cheek in defiance and get a slap to the ass that only makes you want to bite him more.

“Don’t be mean to me,” you whimper.

Taehyung’s steady rhythm against your front wall has your orgasm burning so hotly in your core that you feel like you’re going to cum if he even so much as turns his head to look at you one more time.

Your thighs are already sore by the time Taehyung removes his fingers from your pussy. He uses your sticky arousal as lube to stroke his cock and you don’t want to think about how excited you are about this.

“Hurry up.”

Taehyung raises his eyebrows at you just as he grips the inside of your thigh with one hand. The other he uses to line his cock with your body. You can feel the head press against your entrance, and you try to push your body down to swallow him whole, but Taehyung holds you up to stop you.

“Impatient cockslut, aren’t you?” Taehyung chides.

His previously spacey look is sharpened by the sparkle of mirth in his eyes. Your body tenses when he spits the insult at you, and he knows it’s making your clit throb even harder.

“Tae.” You bite your lip because you’re close to begging at this point.

Luckily, you don’t have to. Taehyung presses down your hip and you quickly take the lead, easing yourself onto his cock until you’re fully seated on his firm thighs.

Your body burns from the stretch it has to make to accommodate him, but you knew it would. Even when you’re fully adjusted to him, there’s always a bit of a stretch. He also knows he has to let you ease into it to avoid slamming himself straight into your cervix. The first time it had happened, Taehyung genuinely thought he’d broken you. You kind of thought so, too, if you were going to be perfectly honest. The struggle of having a big-dicked boyfriend.

“Okay?” He’s watching you with those lustful, dark eyes.

“Mhm,” you hum because you’re afraid of the way your voice will quiver if you try to say real words.

You’re so full, it’s a bit overwhelming. Not just physically, but emotionally, too. You missed Taehyung a lot, but holding onto each other in such an intimate position is making you realize just how lonely you were without him.

“I’m gonna move, okay?”

He waits until you silently nod your head before he adjusts in the chair, scooting down slightly to spread his legs better. You allow him to adjust your legs, bending them at the knee and hooking them over the arms of the chair. With a tight grip on your ass, Taehyung pulls you down onto his cock at the same time he thrusts up into you.

The pace Taehyung sets is desperate, but you don’t care. Your second orgasm is approaching at an alarming speed. It feels like it’s taking all of your energy to simply stay grounded with reality as Taehyung squeezes you and your hips crash into each other. You don’t even try to do anything, just let him take over your body as he pounds into you. For the most part, you’re a pillow princess and you both know it. Besides, how can you possibly keep up with someone so athletic? Taehyung’s stamina is ridiculous. Neither of you has an overstimulation kink, but Taehyung’s ability to just go and go and go might as well have given you one. None of this has ever bothered Taehyung, though. He likes giving more than receiving.

“Oh fuck.” Taehyung nips at the base of your neck when you clench around his cock just to feel him shiver.

There aren’t any rules about him marking you up. The petty side of him likes when you wear the dark bruises in the open, with no makeup or clothing to hide them. It’s a satisfying game he likes to play. He likes that everyone knows you’re getting dicked down and, therefore, are taken.

You like the secret satisfaction of knowing it’s Kim Taehyung who gives you those marks, and no one even knows.

What you don’t like is thinking about all the other people Taehyung may have enjoyed giving marks to.

It’s hard not to let your mind wander. Taehyung has never talked to you about his previous relationships, and there’s no way for you to know about them if he doesn’t tell you. The media can’t be trusted to accurately report idols’ love lives; today has been a perfect example of that. You’re stuck with only your imagination to make up all kinds of scenarios. Maybe Taehyung has been with other k-pop idols, or models, or actresses - people with more money, who are prettier and more sophisticated than you. Hell, you’ve never even asked him about his sexuality. What if he really has been fucking Jungkook! What if they’re in love and you’re just something temporary?

“I was made for you, jagi. You know that?” Taehyung’s breath is hot against your skin. His words are gentle, but the power with which he thrusts up into you is bruising. “Made for you.”

It’s as if he can read your mind, as if he can somehow sense the insecurities threatening to pull you out of the moment. As always, Taehyung manages to bring you back to the present.

Fuck, sometimes you wish he wouldn’t do shit like this to you. You’re already pathetically in love with him. You can’t imagine what more could come next, yet you feel yourself practically bursting from the seams with love.

Your moans fall in line with the sound of the chair scraping the floor and your skin slapping against Taehyung’s with every thrust. When your mouth falls open, Taehyung presses his thumb against your tongue. With eyes fluttering closed, you suck on his thumb and try to hold on as your body rocks up and down.

“Fuck, fuck, oh, god, Taehyung.”

“Yeah, jagi?” Taehyung pulls down on the corner of your mouth until his thumb is dragging spit across your cheek. “Tell me.”

His voice is so soothing it makes you want to cry. It’s unfair.

“You feel so fucking—“

It’s the slick pressure of his thumb massaging your clit that finally has you arching your back with a scream of Taehyung’s name. You’re so loud that you worry your neighbors heard you. There are plenty of people named Taehyung in the world, though, right? He could be any Taehyung.

If you ask Taehyung later, he’ll probably say he can’t even remember his own name because of how tightly you clench around his cock when you cum. The feeling is so overwhelming that you think you might pass out from holding your breath. You gasp, inhaling more air than you exhale, but Taehyung keeps going. Every subsequent thrust knocks the air out of you until you have the opposite problem and now you can’t keep any air in.

“I’m gonna…”

“Go ahead, baby. Cum inside me.”

Taehyung whimpers into the crook of your neck as he cums, the suggestiveness of your permission not lost on either of you. You’re on birth control and Taehyung knows a kid would probably ruin his career. So it doesn’t actually mean anything when you tell him he can stay inside; you’re not getting pregnant any time soon. Still, he gets off on coming inside of you, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

“I was going to make a joke that I should go on tour more often if that means I’ll cum that hard again, but I think I don’t want to go on tour ever again,” Taehyung admits with a shaky laugh.

Just the idea of Taehyung leaving you for months on end again makes your stomach twist. He brings so much life to everywhere he goes, and you felt like much of that life left you when he did. Even if it was only temporary.

Taehyung holds you until his cock is no longer twitching inside of you. Once his arms finally fall to his side, you try to untangle yourself from the chair as his body, but your limbs might as well belong to someone else.

“Help,” you squeak hoarsely. You feel like covering your face when Taehyung laughs.

Taehyung helps you out of his lap, though you both are so wobbly on your feet that you hold onto the edge of the kitchen table when you stand. Taehyung looks wrecked, and you feel wrecked. You’re not sure your knees will ever work properly again.

“Why are we still listening to Stray Kids?” Taehyung grumbles when he realizes the speakers are still playing in the background.

“It’s a good album.”

“We should be fucking to my songs.” Taehyung pauses for a moment, thinking.“‘Christmas Tree’ is a fuckable song, right?”

“You’re joking.”

Taehyung shakes his head and reaches for your phone. His face is programmed to unlock your phone, just like your face unlocks his phone. You don’t understand how he can stand butt naked in the kitchen, cum all over his thighs, and search for the jazz playlist he made on your Spotify account.

(“Jazz Hands, Y/N. It’s a vibe.”)

Once his playlist has replaced Stray Kids, Taehyung wraps you up in a giant bear hug that lifts you off your feet. The hug nearly knocks the air out of you.

“Can’t believe you made me dirty after I just showered.” You can’t see his pout, but you can hear it.

“You’re the one who started this.”

Taehyung scoffs. He starts walking down the hallway, practically dragging you in his arms as he goes. Your toes barely reach the ground, but you’re more content to let your body fall slack and make him do all the work.

He kicks open the bathroom door and sits you down on the counter.

“No, you did this. You looked at me with those pretty eyes and said, ‘Tae’.” He tries to mimic your voice by moaning his name. “I’m a weak, weak man. You influenced me. I just wanted you to eat.”

“Well, I did eat.”

Taehyung presses his lips together. “Don’t say it.”

“I’m gonna say it.” You lean forward on the edge of the counter, trying to get in Taehyung’s space, but he’s ignoring you as he prepares the shower.

“Y/N.”

“I ate…”

“Stop.”

“Deez nuts.”

Taehyung drags his hands down his face, leaving his skin red. His reaction makes you giggle.

“Technically you only played with deez nuts. Your mouth, sadly, did not ever come near my—” He tries to correct you, but you’re already throwing a scrunchie at his face.

“You’re ruining the joke!”

“It’s a bad joke!”

Maybe your sense of humor is way better than his, but as you suffer another Taehyung tickle attack, you can’t help but feel ridiculous for how you’d behaved earlier. How can he look at you with sparkling eyes and a boxy smile that makes him laugh with his teeth, hand coming up to cover his face when you give him your poutiest of pouts— how can you see such genuine kindness and think Taehyung would ever do anything to jeopardize what you have?

“Wassup motherfuckers!”

You raise your eyebrows at Namjoon and tap the end of your chewed pen against your computer screen. Biting pens isn’t sanitary or cute but you do it anyway. The man’s eyes aren’t on your pen cap, though. He’s staring a hole into the podcast you pulled up because you know he doesn’t want to look at you.

“Namjoon, why did you start the episode like that? This is not your Automatic Dick era,” you say with a deep sigh.

“Beoryeo.”

“Excuse me?”

“The song. It’s called ‘Throw Away’, not… Automatic… Dick…” His correction dies on his tongue when he sees the exasperated look on your face.

“That is not the point.” You shake your head and exit the website. You’re not in charge of PR. That’s someone else’s problem.

Your attention turns to the newest draft of the song you’ve been stressing out about since you arrived in Seoul.

“This, though? This is fucking beautiful.” You adjust your laptop on the coffee table so Namjoon can better view the document. The two of you are at the dorm, lounging in the living room.

There are a lot of highlighted lines and many comments throughout the document. You wish you were like the members who scribbled their lyrics in cute leather journals, but your brain is too much of a disaster and broken by technology. If you don’t have your laptop, you can't write lyrics for shit.

“How are you so eloquent in Korean, but in English, you’re so…” You wave your hands around like you’re rifling through the air for the rest of your sentence.

“Casual?”

“Yes.” Sure, we’ll go with that, Joonie.

“Well, that’s why I’ve got you!”

At least he thinks you’re eloquent. The boys probably think you’re spending all your time in your office easily pulling masterpieces out of your ass when in reality you’re Googling, “what's the word for when you can't remember a word?”

It’s lethologica, by the way.

You love Namjoon, but sometimes you think he has too much faith in you. Writing songs is hard. He of all people would know that. The difference between you and Namjoon is that when Namjoon struggles with writing he gets all emo, buys a bunch of weird furniture, and flies to another country to look at foreign art. When you struggle with writing, you just go home and play video games with Taehyung until you’re ready to try again.

You’re both practicing avoidance, but Namjoon’s method just looks a little more dramatic than yours. Despite his assumptions, that doesn’t mean you’re better at handling yourself. You just do things differently.

“We’re so lucky to have Jagi PD!”

Namjoon groans and covers his head with the hood of his hoodie as Jungkook flies into the living room.

Strong hands cup your armpits to lift you off of the couch. While Jungkook is crushing every bone in your body as he hugs you, all you can think about is how you were kind of a little bit sweaty, and now Jungkook has his hands all in your armpits.

“Jungkookie, don’t pick people up without their consent.”

Hobi enters the room behind the younger man and gives him a stern look which makes Jungkook immediately put you down on your feet.

“Sorry, Y/N,” Jungkook says with a pout and galaxies in his eyes. You give his shoulder a playful smack. His baggy black t-shirt sticks to his skin, and you’re less worried about being sweaty. Jungkook is soaked.

“Don’t worry about it, kid. I’m tough.” You flex your nonexistent muscles to make the precious maknae laugh his pout away.

“You should come train with us, Jagi.”

“Jungkook,” Namjoon exclaims from where he still sits on the couch.

He turns to his friend with wide eyes. “What?”

“Stop calling Y/N ‘jagi’. Taehyung is going to kill you.” This time Jimin pipes up.

You hadn’t realized he’d entered the room, too. The three newcomers are varying degrees of sweaty with pink cheeks and wearing workout clothes. You suppose they’ve just come back from working out or perhaps a dance practice. They’ve all been back from tour for a few weeks now, but if there’s one thing you’ve learned about the Bangtan Boys it’s that they never fucking rest.

It’s exhausting just to think about it.

“It’s okay,” you say with a shrug. “I think ‘Jagi PD’ is pretty fucking funny, to be honest.”

The nickname Jungkook created for you is cute in your opinion. You are a music producer. Jagi PD is better than using your last name. It could be like your stage name. Maybe you can get Namjoon to credit you as Jagi PD under the songs you write. Using your first and last name seems lame when it’s paired with fun names like SUGA, RM, j-hope, and Slow Rabbit.

“Pretty fucking funny,” Jungkook repeats. He gives the other men a triumphant look before launching himself onto the couch with Jimin.

Hobi chooses to sit on the couch on the opposite side of the room with Namjoon. From the way Namjoon has nestled back into his seat, it’s clear that his song will have to wait. It’s for the best. You’re not thinking about music anymore.

You can’t blame Jungkook for interrupting your work, but the true source of distraction saunters into the room with his arms full of grocery bags.

“Hey, jagiya,” Taehyung greets you sweetly with a kiss on your forehead as he walks through the living room to get to the kitchen. The final two men, Jin and Yoongi, trail behind Taehyung with their own bags.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jimin give Jungkook a pointed look when Taehyung uses the term of endearment.

“What are you guys making?” Jungkook is curled up against the arm of the couch with his phone in hand. He’s holding it sideways which makes you think he’s probably playing In The Seom. The app is old news by this point, yet Jungkook’s attention is still consumed by it. It’s hilarious.

You wish you could meet the game developers. Whoever made Taehyung’s character look so fucking feral deserves a raise.

“You’re gonna cook?” You don’t hide your shock at the idea that Taehyung would be cooking anything, and that makes everyone laugh.

“I’m making dinner,” Yoongi clarifies. “And it’s a surprise, so stop paying attention to me.” He shoos Jin and Taehyung out of the kitchen.

Jin sits on the couch with Jimin and Jungkook, while Taehyung sits with you. The armchair really only seats one person comfortably, but you wiggle so Taehyung can sit half next to you and half under you. He arranges your legs to drape over his lap. It’s nice, being this close. You can snuggle into his side and let him wrap his arms around you without worrying about who can see or what people think. All the boys are supportive of your relationship with Taehyung. It’s a bit frustrating that there’s no way for you to fully express how appreciative you are.

“Well, what are we supposed to do?” From the couch in the living room, Jungkook shoots Yoongi a glare as if Yoongi’s request for some alone time while he cooks is a personal attack.

Yoongi snorts and turns his back on Jungkook to begin unloading the groceries. “I don’t know, talk to each other.”

“You guys are boring. I only want to talk to Y/N.” You’re not sure how you’ve become Jungkook’s favorite, but it’s exceptionally endearing.

“You’re not even going to pay attention,” Namjoon points out. “Always on that damn phone.”

He’s still got his hood up, and he looks like he was half-asleep. No one but you gets the joke, so Namjoon nods his head in your direction before returning to his slumped position.

“I like watching Jimin-ssi’s character spin around in little circles.”

“It’s cute, isn’t it?” Jin chimes in. “He looks so small.”

The glares Jimin shoots everyone in the room are terrifying. You think about something you’d heard someone say: the shorter the person, the closer to hell they are. Something dramatic that only a tall person would say.

“All the characters are the same size,” he exclaims. “And I don’t do that!”

“Yes, you do. There are fanmade compilation videos of you spinning around, Jimin-ssi! I’ve watched them,” Jungkook confesses with full confidence.

A small squeal sounds from the opposite side of the room. You turn to see Hobi practically bouncing on the couch.

“Please, can we watch some? I want to hear the cute sound effects.”

A pillow flies across the room, and Hobi just barely dodges it. Jimin crosses his arms firmly against his chest and scowls as Jin and Jungkook enthusiastically agree and Hobi snatches the TV remote before anyone else can.

“At least watch a video that isn’t about me doing something embarrassing,” Jimin breaks down enough to plead (not beg!) with Hobi. He eyes the room and his gaze falls on Taehyung. A small smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth and you feel Taehyung slowly exhale. “We should watch one about TaeTae.”

You try to cover your laughter with a cough, but Taehyung applies a light slap to your thigh in retaliation.

“Why me?” he pouts.

“Yes! Let me pick!”

“Jungkookie, no. It was my idea.” Hobi scrolls through his phone until his face lights up with glee. “I’ve watched this one before and it’s so cute, Y/N, you’re going to love it.”

“The suspense is killing me.” You wiggle your eyebrows at Taehyung. The rolled eyes you’re met with feel like a victory.

“Okay, it’s called, BTS struggling to understand ‘Tae-tae language’,” Hobi prefaces while the video loads on the TV.

Jin laughs at the loud snort you let out. “TaeTae language is hard to understand.”

“Maybe you guys aren’t creative enough to understand me,” Taehyung scoffs.

“Hey! I understand you!” Yoongi protests from the kitchen.

Taehyung looks like he might say more, but the video interrupts him. It starts with highlights from the comments section of previous videos. One comment mentions Namjoon being their bias.

“Is that weird? Like, to watch this kind of stuff and hear people talk about their biases?” If you were famous, you were absolutely positive that you’d never Google yourself. You would not want to know what kind of weird shit was out there about you, even something as seemingly innocent as silly compilation videos.

“I think it’s funny,” Jimin says with a smirk and half-moon eyes. “I’m everyone’s bias, anyway.”

“That’s not what TikTok says.” Jungkook turns his nose upward at Jimin, though his eyes never leave his phone. It’s a shame In The Seom didn’t allow him to drown Jimin in the ocean, or he totally would have done it by now.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just check how many videos there are under my hashtag.”

Jimin snorts with a roll of his eyes, seemingly dismissing Jungkook’s claims. But you see him twist on the couch so the younger man can’t see that Jimin pulls up TikTok on his phone. As if TikTok was the end all, be all. You want to tell them it’s impossible to know who’s the most “popular” or whatever, but you know that conversation is futile.

“Y/N, you were Army before you started dating Tae!” You can practically see the light bulb going off in Hobi’s brain. Or, rather, the Army bomb. “Who was your bias?”

Hobi’s question barely leaves his lips when the room grows quiet. Seven pairs of eyes stare at you expectantly, including your boyfriend’s. You keep your eyes on the TV, though you aren’t seeing the compilation video playing anymore.

“I don’t know. I didn’t have a bias. Y’know, OT7 and all that shit.”

Suddenly, the room erupts. Screeches of protests and arguments are shouted across the living room, the boys yelling on top of one another and slewing insults at each other.

“Oh come on, Y/N, tell us!” Hobi whines.

“Yeah, we wanna know! We won’t judge you.” Pulling this precious information out of you is so vital that Jungkook looks away from his phone long enough to give you a pouty face.

“It’s obviously me. I’m Worldwide Handsome.”

“Leave her alone, guys.” Taehyung shifts in his seat and adjusts how your legs drape over his lap. His large hands massage soft circles into your calf muscles. “This is so childish.”

“Right. A bias is just whoever a fan is partial to,” Namjoon says with a shrug. “What matters is that fans support us as seven.”

“No, a bias is the one the fan wants to fuck the most.” This time Jungkook doesn’t look up from his phone when he speaks.

Jin hums in agreement, winking in your direction and making Taehyung scowl.

“You’re just scared it’s not you, Tae.” For someone Taehyung calls his soulmate, Jimin seems to jump at every opportunity to fuck with his friend. He turns to you with those haunting siren eyes that lure in even God’s strongest soldiers. “Is he, Y/N? Is your bias Taehyung or someone else?”

“I thought Hobi’s question was, who was my bias? Not is.”

His siren eyes narrow at you. “Stop arguing semantics and answer the question.”

You can’t hold a staring contest with the now-paused Youtube video, and Jimin’s sudden snappiness makes you feel the need to look away. Right into the eyes of your answer, the only person who hasn’t spoken during the entire bias conversation.

Yoongi’s sharp eyes catch yours when you look away from the TV. Never one to miss a beat, he raises a perfectly-shaped eyebrow at you, the ghost of his classic Yoongi smirk barely lifting the corner of his mouth before the entire room erupts into shouting again.

“YOONGI?! REALLY?! OUT OF ALL OF US, YOU PICKED HIM?” Jimin jumps up from the couch, knocking pillows all over the floor.

“Watch it, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi scolds the younger man for his informal language. Jimin only rolls his eyes.

“Damn, Jimin was right. You aren’t her bias, TaeTae.” Jin shakes his head with a solemn look. He gets up to leave the room, giving your boyfriend a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as he walks past. “I’m going to my room to play Mario Kart. This is too depressing for me.”

At the mention of video games, Jungkook perks up. “Wait Jin hyungie, I wanna play, too!” He tosses the last couch pillow in Jimin’s lap and scrambles to catch up with Jin halfway down the hall.

Yoongi wears a full-blown smirk now. You watch with wide eyes as his tongue slips out to drag across his bottom lip before he’s drawing his lip between his teeth. “Cute.”

“Fuck off,” Taehyung hisses at the older man, lifting your legs off his lap.

“Tae…” You reach out to grab his arm to stop him, but he’s already heading to his bedroom. The door slams shut so hard that the photos on the walls shudder.

You turn back around to glare at the remaining men. “Did you have your fun, hmm? Was it worth it?”

“I really… I didn’t think…” Hobi fumbles his words, clearly uncomfortable with the outbursts he’d unwittingly caused.

“If it doesn’t work out with Taehyung, call me, yeah?” Yoongi sends you a wink, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek.

You feel your face heat up and you refuse to look at him. You wait until he goes back to preparing the food before you stand up. Without another word, you follow in Taehyung’s footsteps until you reach his door. It’s locked, but you expected as much.

“TaeTae,” you call softly. “Please let me in.”

You wait in silence long enough that you consider going home. If Taehyung doesn’t want to talk to you, you aren’t going to push him. Even if you think the reason for his outburst is stupid and that he’s acting like a child.

Eventually, the door is opened wide enough for you to slip inside. Taehyung doesn’t look at you when he shuts the door. Instead, he sits on his bed and leans his back against the wall. He keeps his eyes on his hands delicately folded together in his lap. His eyes are already red and slightly puffy. The sight is glass in your veins.

“Tae, please don’t be upset,” you start slowly. Climbing into his bed, you scoot until you’re lounging next to him. He doesn’t pull away when you rest your head on his shoulder.

“It’s embarrassing.”

You let out a small sigh, not because you’re frustrated with him but because you’d known watching fanmade videos would turn out to be a bad idea.

“If it makes you feel better, you were still in my bias line.” It’s probably not the best way to reassure your boyfriend, but it at least makes him look at you.

“Who else?” His eyes are narrowed.

“I don’t think I should answer that.”

Taehyung’s bottom lip droops and you feel your heart seize.

“Okay, okay!” Maybe holding his hand will make it better. “Jimin, but, no don’t give me that look! Just listen.”

Taehyung’s pout deepens, but he doesn’t interrupt you.

“It’s not like when I hang out with Jimin or Yoongi I’m thinking about those things, okay? It’s just a natural thing that happens. Anyone can be drawn to specific people in a group; the same thing happens with friendships. Like you and Jimin. It’s normal.”

Taehyung doesn’t seem convinced, but he laces his fingers through yours. You interpret the light squeeze he gives you as permission to continue talking.

“Yoongi is cool because I always saw him as this, like, mental health icon for me. He talks so much about mental health and fans see how he has grown and gotten healthier over the years. It’s inspiring, right? You’ve seen it firsthand.”

“That’s true,” Taehyung sniffles.

You nod your head. “Exactly, I respect him as a person and an artist. And with Jimin, I’ve always been almost jealous? of him. Because he can so beautifully balance both masculine and feminine qualities and aesthetics. He looks good no matter what and has learned to accept himself instead of forcing whatever weird masculinity shit y’all had when you debuted. That’s inspiring, too.”

Taehyung is silent for a while. You give him the space to process what you’ve said, and you hope that it’s enough to make him understand that a bias is not just about who you want to fuck. Jungkook is such a flirt; of course, that’s how he would interpret things.

“Why did you like me?” He finally looks at you. His eyes are a little pink from his tears, but his cheeks appear dry. The innocent curiosity in his expression tugs at your heart.

You reach up to run your fingers through his fluffy hair, combing out any tangles and gently massaging his scalp. This is probably how Taehyung feels when you worry about fans, paparazzi, and sasaengs.

“Well, you’re hot,” you say with a grin. You feel a bit lighter when Taehyung’s mouth curves slightly, too.

“Is that it?”

“Of course not.” You stick your tongue out. “You were my favorite in the vocal line. I loved how smooth your singing voice is, and how thoughtful you sound when you talk about how important the members and Army are to you. How could someone not love the inventor of I purple you?”

It feels weird to talk about how you liked Taehyung before you knew who he was. You never made your status as a fan obvious in the beginning. Professionalism is more important than fangirling. Even now, you only casually discuss your interest in the group before meeting them.

“Your sense of fashion made me laugh. You always seemed so happy, even though people like to focus a lot on how mean you can look. And I thought your relationships with Yoongi and Jimin were cute. You’re a great example of how men can and should be soft and loving.”

They’re all highly-simplified explanations for why Taehyung caught your eye in a group of seven, but they seem to put him at ease. He slides into the bed so he’s lying on his back under the covers. With his eyes locked on yours, he pats his chest.

“C’mere.”

You lie down under the covers next to him. It feels nice to rest your head on his chest and throw your leg over his waist. Ever since Taehyung came back from the tour, you’ve wanted to be attached at the hip. It’s not that you can’t handle being alone, but you don’t think it’s a bad thing to want to be with the people who bring you joy— especially when you live in a new country.

“You know I’m in love with you, not Yoongi or Jimin.”

“I know.”

“Do you actually?” You shift your head so you can look up at him.

Taehyung meets you halfway. You let your eyes close as he slots his lips with yours, allowing your body to melt into his. The desperation the two of you had for each other when Taehyung first returned to Seoul eventually died out. Now, you’re okay with taking things slow. You can savor the feeling of his body on yours, firm and warm beneath you. You can savor the smell of his cologne and his taste as you breathe him in and slip your tongue inside his mouth.

“I do,” he responds with a heavy exhale once you pull away. “I’m sorry I got upset. I just got so angry when hyung…” Taehyung scrunches his eyebrows and his nose scrunches along with them.

You massage his forehead and try to forcefully smooth the wrinkles there. “Yoongi is just being an ass. He loves you, too,” you point out.

Taehyung can’t argue that, so he leans down to kiss you again. You know how important physical contact is to him, especially when he’s upset. With that in mind, you slip your hands beneath his t-shirt. Splaying your hands flat against his chest feels nice. It’s a reminder that he’s real, and he’s here. He’s safe and healthy and yours.

“We both get pretty jealous, huh?”

Taehyung gives you a sheepish smile, all cheeks and pretty lips. You love his little lip freckle, but your favorite will always be the one under his eye.

“Not as bad as Jungkook, though.”

“Mhm, please don’t break up with me over a perilla leaf or anything.”

Taehyung giggles and you feel like you’ve got helium inside you. If you don’t hold onto him tightly enough, you might float away with how light and carefree being with him makes you.

“You won’t get rid of me that easily,” he says as he nibbles your earlobe.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

His hands find the hem of your t-shirt, and you sit up to allow him to undress you. It’s a delicate process because Taehyung wants to take his time, too. It might seem like the two of you use sex to solve your problems, but you never see it like that. For you, letting Taehyung take his time breaking you down, just to build you back up again, is an act of emotional intimacy, just as it is physical. When Taehyung gets comfortable between your thighs, dark eyes locked with yours as he sucks your clit into his mouth, the hold he has on your wrists grounds you. And when he hovers over you with your legs wrapped around his hips as he thrusts into you, you whisper gentle praises against his throat to remind him that you are his and he is yours.

You spend the rest of the afternoon in Taehyung’s bed. It feels good to snuggle with him while he talks to you about all the jazz clubs he forced Jimin to go to during the little free time they had on tour. It seems the tension in the house fades because the rest of the boys are loud and energetic; it’s impossible to tune them out when their laughter bleeds into the room despite the door being closed.

“Do you think Taehyung and Y/N are done having make-up sex?”

“It’s pretty quiet in there. Maybe they fell asleep.”

You groan and bury your face in Taehyung’s side. It’s almost as if Jungkook and Jin are purposefully talking outside of his bedroom to make sure you can hear them. Knowing them, it’s not a far-fetched idea.

“Probably tired themselves out. The screaming was really—”

“JUNGKOOK!” Taehyung sits up so abruptly that you fall back onto the bed. “SHUT THE FUCK UP.”

Jin and Jungkook’s laughter eventually fades down the hallway, but Taehyung gets out of bed anyway.

“Yoongi is probably almost done with dinner,” he grumbles. You watch him zip up his jeans and admire how tall and lanky he is. Sorry to Yoongi and Jimin.

He manages to get his arms caught in his t-shirt somehow, so you begrudgingly get out of bed to help. You tease him endlessly because obviously fucking you is so good that he doesn’t know how to use his limbs anymore.

Your teasing is nothing compared to the way the other boys drag you the moment you step out of Taehyung’s bedroom.

“You okay, Y/N? Sounded like you might be dying,” Jimin grins as he prepares the kitchen table for dinner.

Jin snickers, throwing out his own commentary. “Taehyung, you got it pretty good even though you aren’t her bias, huh.”

Before Taehyung has a chance to bite anyone’s head off, you chime in.

“Yeah, yeah, Yoongi was my bias when I was a fan,” you say with a roll of your eyes. You can practically see Jungkook registering that you said “was a fan”, and that makes him pout. As if you aren’t still a fan. What a baby, just like Taehyung.

Yoongi snorts as he retrieves a dish from the oven. “I cannot fathom why.”

“Me either,” Jimin agrees with a giggle. He’s completely unfazed by the dark look Yoongi shoots him.

You join in on Jimin’s laughter, and you’re pleased to see that Taehyung is smiling too. The whole thing is so ridiculous. Maybe you’re feeling a bit too comfortable because you start oversharing.

“And I was a Yoonmin shipper, I’m not gonna lie.” You’re laughing so hard that you don’t realize neither Jimin nor Taehyung are laughing anymore. After a few seconds pass, though, your smile slowly falls. Jimin’s face has turned bright pink and Yoongi has his back to the table.

“It was one time, okay?” Jimin’s eyes burn holes into Yoongi’s shoulder blades from across the room. “Okay, two times.”

The older man doesn’t comment.

You nudge Taehyung’s leg with your foot under the kitchen table. He presses his lips together as hard as he can, but the smile just gets pushed into his cheeks. A rush of air explodes from his lips in a loud raspberry, and that’s what triggers your laughter again.

“Oh my god, I really wish I was surprised but I’m not,” you confess with a wheeze.

You’ve clearly touched on a sensitive topic. Jimin blabbers away about how it’s not that big of a deal, all while Yoongi silently finishes arranging the dishes on the table. It would feel uncomfortable, but Jimin’s flushed face and the tiniest of smiles curving Yoongi’s lips make you think it meant a lot more than what Jimin wishes to admit.

And that’s really fucking cute.

As the rest of the boys come piling into the kitchen, Taehyung scoots his chair until yours are touching. You bump shoulders and tilt your face up so he can press a kiss against your jaw.

“I love you,” he whispers. “With all my heart."

“I love you, too.” You lace your fingers with his and let your hands rest against his thigh. “You dork.”

The kitchen is chaos, but all you can focus on is the boxy smile Taehyung gifts you.

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

@bts-ruu @chuberella23 @guks-lip-piercing @sailoryooons @hvnnibvni @jinsquishes @jjkeverlast @klitklittredge @koobsessed @moonchild1 @moonleeai @nonbinary-demonbrat @parkdatjimin @reliablemitten @saweetspoiled @sugarwithtea @swga-ficrecs @taegiblr @yoongukie-ff

(and i'm tagging y'all cuz ik you were excited for this) @norushtolive @btscontentenjoyer

#taehyung x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #taehyung fanfic #taehyung angst #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #wyb

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retnym · 1 year

Text

WORLD TOUR- .02

"Your dirty jokes just had to be heard?"

“Hurry!” A scream came from one of the singers in the house, his hair freshly done as he ran into the living room putting on a jacket. His heart was pounding as he and our friends were about to run late to a big live interview. The bassist and drummer already sat in the vehicle waiting for the twins and me who had come over to the house in the morning to do my makeup with Bill but even myself woke up a tad bit later than I Should've.

“It’s okay, Bill.” I walk calmly into the room, wiping my wet hands onto my mini skirt then rolling down these black long sleeves. “We need to go, we literally have 25 minutes to get to the building that’s 26 minutes away!” His voice cracks, he went to go get his brother but he was already joining the two, tiredly yawning.

Unlike the others he had just thrown something on and put his hair into his usual style.

Predictable.

“Alright, let’s go, let’s go!” I wind my hand up then pointing out the door. Bill was out the door faster than light itself as Tom took his time a little bit more due to his huge pants that wouldn’t exactly let him run in.

Of course I had to sit in the middle of the twins. Being smushed together I leaned more onto Bill, his arm slightly around my shoulders to give more room in the back seat. “Sorry Georg!” I apologize for our un-togetherness. He just shakes his head, motioning that it was okay before he speeds down the road for the singer’s sake.

As we sat in the car with the radio on low, Bill and I took pictures on his phone trying to pass the time as Gustav took a little nap, Georg sat quietly as he focused on the road and Tom sometimes talked to Bill about how the interview was going to go. We haven’t exactly spoken since yesterday, which was completely okay. I would rather have the silence than hear his annoying voice.

Today will be our first sit down, live interview together. It’s more of a day show like America’s Ellen Degenerous show or like the night shows as well.

Just German.

Well this will be played on my Youtube channel so I’m going to put captions on it so that others will get our huge announcement as well from this video. But since not a lot of people that speak English will want to see it I’ve had the boys make a video with me to post for the U.K. or the U.S.

Actually getting to the building is what brought all of our nerves to the roof. Even Tom who was freaking out with Georg. They were being pretty dramatic as they pretended to cry together. Once we parked in the back like we were told, security all ran our way and someone took the keys from Georg to move the car somewhere else while we were inside. Security stood by us as we entered the building.

Fans somehow found the backway entry and were shouting our names as we passed by screaming for us to give them attention. Sadly we couldn’t acknowledge them.

It almost felt exhilarating to be put in this situation. The running and being hid by screaming people who would just love to put their hands on you in any way they could. Little creepy now that I put it into words.

Anyways.

We were escorted to an area to be mic’d up. This girl has to put it in areas that won’t be incredibly noticeable. Looking around at the boys as Tom was getting his done lastly, his eyes were on the girls boobs since she was slightly bent over. Scrunching my nose in disgust I look away.

Turning to Gustav I dramatically grabbed his shoulders. “You ready?” Shaking him back and forth he finally put his hands on mine to stop me. “Are you?” He laughs.

I nod like a crazy woman, pulling him into a hug. “I’m a tiny bit nervous.” I chuckle. “I can tell.”

“Time to get into place.” Bill snaps us out of it and we let go of each other moving to the curtains of the screen. Bill gripped onto my hand and the host called out our names. Well more, “Ladies and Gentles I have the wonderful [Name] [Last Name] with Tokio Hotel!”

As we joined him near the couches he stood up, greeting us one by one. “Hello, hello!” He shook my hand tightly.

“Hi, an honor!” I smile and he winks back in response, slightly catching me off guard earning a confused look for a split second.

As we sat down, I was placed nearest to the host, Bill next to and so on.

The beginning of it all was very cliche, it was the normal stuff we usually get coming to these types of things only this time we got to do it together.

The questions get a little morbid, asking about our personal life but having to go with it we will change it up in the best way we can to not give out that sentimental information.

We’re only 18. Some of us being 17 still.

“So, [Name] you’re starting your tour soon aren’t you?” He places the attention onto me, my face turning warmmer by the second. “Yeah, I am.” I smile, mentally wanting to beat myself up due to the fact that I’ve been stuttering ever so lightly but still being a tad bit noticeable. “Aren’t you going to miss these four boys?” He jokes with me and we all snicker at the thought.

“Well, I won’t have to miss them.”

“What do you mean?” He tilts his head, not getting what I was laying down.

“She means, Tokio Hotel is joining her World Tour!” Bill shouts mainly for the audience. Everyone gasping at first then roaring into cheers.

Obviously I don’t think that was very expected.

We waited for the audience to calm down and then we continued with the questions. Now changing what he was saying to things about the tour. Were the prices changing? Anything like that. Obviously nothing will be changing except for the fact that the boys will be joining with me.

Starting in Germany then going around Europe then to the United States of America. Other countries too but that’s later on and their tickets haven’t gone on sale yet.

Now people in the crowd get to ask their questions. It was mainly to Tom as usual when we’re all together.

“This one’s for Tom and [Name],” A younger teenage girl speaks up as the guy with the microphone holds onto it. “Go ahead.” I smile sweetly to her and Tom nods her way. She looked like she was going to faint at any moment but still held strong.

“How come whenever you guys are seen in public you never go near each other?”

The group starts laughing quietly, Bill sneakily takes my pinkie with his and squeezes it. I take a deep breath trying not to laugh myself at this godawful question.

“There really isn’t a reason. I guess that’s just what’s seen in public.” I play it off, I thought it was pretty smooth but knowing Tom he was about to do something to mess it up or change it to his liking.

“She really just can’t handle all the heat that comes with being near me.” Like I said, there he goes. He corrected me in a smart way. Everyone started laughing, even the host so my only option was to force it out of me as well, quietly adding in a “He wishes” but it was sadly louder than I wanted because of the microphone thats connected to my shirt.

I only noticed that because of the “Ohh’s” heard around the crowd. “ I don’t have to wish, it’s my reality.” He smirks.

“Oh you’re right, guys he’s just too hot to handle!” I sarcastically squeal, covering my face to act like I was blushing. He plays along, pointing at me going “See!”

Luckily the interview moved on from that horrible conversation and it all went smoothly.

Once it ended and we took off our mic’s we were out the door faster than we could imagine.

Shoving Tom out of my way, I got to the passenger side and sat in the front with Georg, unfortunately having to kick Gustav to the back. He’ll be okay though.

As Georg started driving, he took the back roads to not have any fans following us out of the area. We all talked about everything and how good it was that we finally had the information about the tour out. All of us complimenting each other on how it went.

“It went pretty amazing, well except the fact that [Name] kept stuttering like she was in love with our host.” Tom mutters the last part but my head snaps his way and I glare at him. “Like you can talk? Googling over every girl who came up to the mic.” I furrowed my brows. “And barely anyone could hear you, having to repeatedly be told to speak up.” I add in.

“That must’ve been your imagination because I was heard pretty well for what needed to be heard.” He comes closer to my face, I adjust myself to actually look at him. “You think so?”

He rolls his eyes, getting even closer to the point where our noses were almost touching. “Your dirty jokes just had to be heard?” I quiz him. Georg tapped my thigh, trying to get me to calm down and end it. And due to his delay of a response I thought he was just going to end it and stop talking. Boy was I wrong.

“Yeah to get desperate girls like you to know they could only be a quick fuck.” He whispered into my ear, only for me to hear. He finally leans back but without even thinking on my part I unbuckle my seat and get inbetween the seats to hit him right in the jaw. Probably hurting myself more than him. The boys all shouted and Georg quickly pulled over, grabbing my waist and shoving me back into the seat. My breathing turned ragged.

“You’re a dick Tom.” I step out of the car, slamming it behind me.

As I had gotten a little bit away I held onto my fist and cursed underneath my breath. Hearing a car door open then shut, and fast footsteps heading my way I thought it was Bill coming to check up on me.

“Seriously? You hit me then run off?”

Nevermind, I am really bad at this guessing game.

“Why did you come out Tom?” I immediately stop.

He just laughs, looking down at my fist in the palm of my other hand and I move to cross my arms and hide it but still putting pressure on my newest injury caused by Tom’s jaw.

“Can’t believe you actually hit me.”

“Want me to do it again?”

“Just calm down, get in the car for their sake. You’re really going to let something I said bother you?” He shames me, he’s really about to shame me?

“Just leave me be, okay? I’m gonna have Johanna come get me.” I shove him away from me, then grabbing my phone out of my tiny pocket in my mini skirt.

Turning away I heard the doors of a car once again and then the wheels on gravel move closer to me. “[Name], get in the car!” Bill shouts my way but I just shake my head. “I’m calling, Johanna. Just leave without me. I’ll call you when I get home.” I smile sadly, Bill just nods telling Georg to just go but he hesitates at first. Only to get told to go once more.

“He is the most infuriating person on this planet, Jo!” I cried out and she just laughs in response. I threw my head back onto my couch as my cat laid in my lap, shimmying to get comfortable.

My best friend was across from me with her legs laid out.

“I can’t believe you actually punched him.” She giggles mainly to herself.

“Dude, it felt like an actual out of body experience, I didn’t feel like me.” I rub my face, careful of the piercings on it.

“What did he even say to make you react that way?”

Sitting for a moment in silence as I thought about it;

“Yeah to get desperate girls like you to know they could only be a quick fuck.”

Scrunching my nose in disgust I shake my head. “Doesn’t matter, just know it made me mad enough to punch him.” I sigh.

Tightening my fist I flinch with the feeling of the ice joining back in with the pain.

“I still wonder.” She frowns.

CHAPTER TWO BABY!!!! Very surprised I got this done so fast after work. I'm pretty proud of this chapter. The next chapter will be tomorrow:) (Hopefully, if not it will be the next day)

#tom kaulitz #bill kaulitz #georg listing #gustav schäfer #tokio hotel #x reader

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thebunnyslibrary · 7 months

Text

In The Woods Somewhere

summary. You go into the woods to take some photos...but find him instead

characters. Vampire!Bucky x Reader

word count. 4.8k

warnings. Dub!Con, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Stockholm-ish, mentions of violence/blood.

BunBun's Spoop-tober Collection Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Finally, your big break. You were finally getting the chance to publish a collection of your photos of haunted locations around New England with a real publishing company. Your final location was an abandoned church in the woods; thought to have been used by an early group of colonizers until it and the nearby settlement had been abandoned. No one knew for sure what had happened. Perhaps the colonizers had moved on? Maybe they were wiped out by plague? There was even a dark story of a minister who had started murdering villagers that were “unclean;” allegedly filling the church pews with corpses with slashed and bloody necks. Doing research on places before you took photos was one of your favorite parts; gathering information for the captions and essays you wrote to go with the photos.

After your parents had died while you were in college, it had left you feeling empty and directionless for some time. Then, after finally finishing your degree, you decided to use the money your parents had left you to buy a van and photograph the world.

You’d been working as a traveling photographer for a while now, doing gigs like weddings and events. You’d also managed to self-publish a few books and tried to sell your photos and art where you could. It wasn’t much but it kept you in gas money and beef jerky. You’d been all over North America and a few parts of South America. You were hoping to go international for a follow up book if this one was a success.

You pulled up to the walking trail that led into the forest. You had about an hour’s hike into the woods; knowing getting the shots at sunset would create perfect photos. You shrugged on your backpack with your supplies and with your camera case hand, headed off. The trees were washed in the golden hue of fall, starting to shed their leaves in preparation for their long winter sleep. A slight chill hung in the air but after 3 months of heat and humidity you were ready to be cold for a little bit.

Sometimes you listened to music when you hiked but today you’d decided to relish in the sounds of the forest.. Bird calls echoing off the trees, the rustling of the trail as you walked, squirrels and other small critters gathering their own winter supplies. A flock of geese calling out as they flew in v formation overhead and you quickly snapped a picture. Traveling and photography had given you an entirely deeper appreciation for nature and it’s beauty. An hour later, you stepped into the clearing where the church was set.

It was a small chapel, probably only fit to hold 10 or 15 people. Most of the eastern wall had crumbled while the others were still partially there. Only one or two (maybe one and a half) benches were left; but you weren’t too sure about actually sitting on them. Still completely intact though, was the Archway that must’ve bene the entrance. Above it, was a bell; likely used to let the nearby colonizers know that church was starting. But on the bell was an inscription that could no longer be read. The language appeared to be Latin, but the words had been lost to time. You were raising your camera to take a picture, when a soft voice startled you

“Hi.” You turned suddenly and you were staring into crystal blue eyes. You jumped back but kept your eyes fixated on his. A man, maybe a little older than you had been standing right behind you.

“Oh! Uh…hi!” you said, blinking and taking more of him in now. Dressed in a black jacket over a fitting gray tee-shirt, dark jeans clinging to his legs, and silver rings adorned most of his fingers on his right hand. His left hand was hidden by a leather glove. His hair was pulled back in a man bun and a single ruby on a black chain hung from his left ear.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I was just coming up the trail and I called out to you.” His voice was soft, with a hint of an eastern European accent, making a slight shiver go through you.

“Sorry, I suppose I didn’t hear you.”

“No worries, I’m James. But my friends call me Bucky” He reached out his hand for yours, taking it and telling him your own name. “I’m surprised to see someone else this far out in the woods.

“I’m here to take pictures.” You explained. “It’s a beautiful structure…what’s left of it anyways.”

“How interesting.” He said. “Are you a professional?”

“Well, sort of. I’m actually just finishing my first collection to be published. ‘New England’s Haunts and Its Future.’ I’m including the church with a piece on New England puritanism and its effects on today’s bigotries.”

He smirked. “I like it. I’ll have to make sure I order a copy of your book.” You both laughed. “You know the old England had some haunts too. All of Europe, in fact. Plenty of old spooky castles. You should definitely see them.”

“If my book goes well maybe.”

“Have you ever had your work in a gallery?” he asked.

“Unfortunately, no. I’ve had my art displayed in some cafes here and there, but not much else.”

“Pity, you seem passionate about your work, it must be nice.”

“I’d call it nice, maybe good.” You beamed. “I’d actually like to get a few shots in, if you don’t mind. I can talk a little while I work though.” There was something about him. He unnerved you, if only slightly. But you also didn’t want him to leave. You wanted him to stay with you.

The two of you walked through the archway to stand on the overgrown stone floor, flowers and dandelions peeking through the cracks. As you walked up what used to be aisle and could almost make out where the other pews had been. Maybe it was the sunset, maybe It was your imagination, but along the floor, the stones seemed eerily stained red.

Again, Bucky’s closeness startled you, but this time, you seemed frozen to the floor.

“You know, darling. There’s one thing I’d love. Could you take a picture of me under the archway? It would make for a great dating profile picture.” He winked at you. And you felt your face warm up.

“Sure, why not.” You focused your camera on him and his eyes seemed to flash red at you. You gasped before snapping the button, but only cursed and brushed it off as red eye-syndrome. You took one more picture and this time, it seemed normal. You pulled it away and waited as the picture loaded. Your book would hopefully lead to some newer equipment. Bucky stood behind you suddenly, but again you were frozen to place; only this time with his chest firmly against his back.

As the picture loaded on the screen, your stomach dropped. The picture was empty. the archway was still in there. But Bucky wasn’t.

You turned around and his smile was downright predatory. Revealing two pearly white fangs. But his eyes, they were bright crimson red.

“That’s…. those can’t be real…your eyes, your teeth…” you said, feeling your heart drop into your stomach

“Oh, my darling. They are ALL too real…little girls like you should know better than to go out after sunset.” You should be running, fighting back, anything. But you can’t. You’re staring into his deep red eyes and you can’t move. “No, printsessa. I can’t have you running away. Not when you smell so delightful.” His arms wrapped slowly around your waist, pulling you closer to you. “Not to mention how beautiful you are. You are exactly what I’ve been searching for.” He whispered in your ear. Before you could blink, you felt a sharp pain in your neck and the world went dark.

You awoke in a soft bed, softer than anything you’d felt before. A bed, but you’d been… Oh fuck… You shot upright quickly as you remembered what happened. What greeted you was a dimly lit room. A wall of immense windows letting the moonlight stream in while a fire roared in the fireplace. Low lamp light gave let you see to see immense bookshelves lining the rest of walls. You started to panic. That freak had knocked you out, now you were in some cabin somewhere. You were still wearing the same clothes, but you had no clue where you were.

“My my, finally awake. I suppose I did drink a bit more than necessary. But I just couldn’t help myself. You were just absolutely delicious.” You looked and saw Bucky. He’d been sitting by the fire until he stood up and moved towards the bed. You could see he was wearing black t-shirt and sweatpants, but what you hadn’t seen before…was his metal arm. His hand had been covered by the glove, but now you could see the moonlight glinting off it. You caught yourself staring and remembered what had happened last time you’d stared at him.

“What did you do to me you sicko?” You lowered your eyes to the floor, trying to move out of the bed without tripping. You heard him chuckle.

“What’s wrong baby doll, you don’t wanna to look at me? “

“No! I just wanna go home. Please.” You tried to be strong but you were trembling as you tried to keep your eyes low enough. You desperately searched for anything sharp or heavy, settling on the lamp and reaching to pick it up, but before you could, you found yourself pinned face down on the bed, your arms trapped behind you. You struggled against him, but he hardly moved. His voice in your ear.

“Poor little bunny. You know what really happened. Or do you need a reminder?” You felt something scrape against your neck. Fangs.

“That’s…. you’re not…”

“Oh, but I am doll. And I don’t think I’ve found anything I’ve ever wanted more in my centuries of living.” He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “Your trembling is so adorable baby girl. It makes me want to ravage you until you cry for me.” His hand wandered down to your jeans and your breathing turned shallow. There was an ache deep between your thighs that wanted to call out for him, but you were still scared of what he’d done.

“No, I won’t have my beloved scared of my touch.” He said, gently pressing a kiss to your neck before moving to help you stand up. Your legs were much wobblier and you found yourself leaning against him. You stared at his chest and quietly spoke. “Bucky, please. Where are we?”

“We’re at my cabin. I’d like to show you around; as this is to be your home too. If you promise to behave.” Deep down, you still felt petrified. But an inner voice said that if he had already wanted you dead, you would be. Besides, you hadn’t noticed before, but something about his smell was so enticing to you. Cinnamon and smoke, with a slight…metallic underlay.

“If…If I go with you willingly…will YOU keep it that way?” you asked, trying to sound firm. You could hear the amusement in his voice.

“I see my little bunny can stand her ground. No, I will not control you that way like before.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. Taking a deep breath, you lifted your head to look at him. His hair was still pulled back into a loose bun, moonlight casting shadows on his sharp cheekbones led down into full lips. And those eyes. You would never forget the deep red color before he drank from you. Now instead they were crystal pools. As unending as the sky. Like you could stare forever. But you blinked away, acknowledging he had kept his promise. You moved away from him and instead toward the windows.

“If you are…a vampire…why the windows? I thought you were supposed to avoid natural light.” He chuckled. And walked a normal pace now to stand next to you as you both stared out into the forest.

“Any creature can be exposed to too much sun. We just have much a lower tolerance limit. I have heavy black out curtains for the day…but I cannot find it in myself to give up this view.” He pointed up towards the stars. You didn’t think you’d ever seen so many. But a rumble of thunder off in the distance caught your attention you saw flashes of lightning. A storm was moving in soon, and you could feel your resolve to escape crumble slightly. Where could you go in a storm?

“How exactly…did you become…?” you asked, hesitantly, not wanting to upset him and trying to focus on anything other than his closeness. You’d always thought trying to…humanize…your enemy so to speak was supposed to help keep you safe. He smiled.

“A vampire…Well, I would imagine you know how.” He chuckled and you found yourself chucking as well. “Where Romania is now, I was a simple farmer. Goats mostly. Then one night, a creature attacked our village.” He paused. “Killed my sister. I tried to fight back, and something about that… He changed me instead of killing me. Figured it was some cruel punishment, killing everyone I knew and loved and leaving me alone.” You felt your heart tug. As if sensing your sadness, he turned and shook his head.

“Don’t worry too much about it, I got my revenge. Afterwards I stayed low, kept to myself for a few centuries. Until the world erupted into war. I refused to keep to myself. That’s how I lost my arm. When the Germans found out what I was; they tried to use my powers to make more. They took my arm to see if they could clone me. Then they gave me this one and tried to turn us into a weapon of war. Only their plans backfired. They couldn’t control them. They eventually all killed each other…at least the ones I didn’t kill first.” He was quiet for a moment and you almost started to panic. But he let out a sigh.

“After the war, I settled here. Made my home, invested some wise money, now I have a little peace.” He turned to you. You felt your heart ache for him. “But I have waited so long for something so enticing as you.” He started to move closer, but you still were nervous, taking a step back.

“Wait uhm... I thought you wanted to show me around.” You reminded him, trying to distract him. He smiled and let out a deep sigh.

“I suppose I did. Well, you’ve seen the bedroom and its extensive library. But there’s an even bigger one downstairs. Come.” He took your hand with his metal one and led you towards the door. You felt less scared following him now; you still could feel yourself wanting to resist and struggle. But he was holding your hand too tightly.

As the two of you toured through the large Tudor cabin (mansion, it seemed), you took note of the art on the walls. Beautiful photographs of places around the world; paintings you wanted to stare at for hours; Bucky having to pull you away from a particularly intriguing work from the Harlem Renaissance. The two of you talked. Bucky had been to many of the places you hoped to go. And some of the ones you’d already been to. It was nice to find someone like yourself, a wanderer.

“I suppose after my parents died; I just felt a little lost.” You told him “I didn’t have a big family, no siblings, so I just decided to be free. It’d at least be nice to have a home base someday though.” You mused.

“I can understand. I’ve actually lived on this land for some years, even before what happened to me. It’s actually owned by an Indigenous tribe. I bought it outright around the 1800s when the government tried to push them out, then gave it back to them. I only asked they let me build a small cabin on the outer edges.” Your jaw dropped. “But…do they know…?” You asked, still having trouble believing it for yourself. He paused and smiled.

“In my lengthy time, you meet many people who believe many different things. I’ve learned to appreciate many human cultures, and to always show respect where it is deserved. And not to tolerate those who would degrade it.” He said, then kept leading you on, with you following a little bit closer. You two walked into a room you definitely didn’t expect to find. A Kitchen.

“It was easier to build than to ever explain why there wasn’t one. Plus, I have a supplier who steals blood from some hoity toity government hospital and I need somewhere to keep it cold. You’d be surprised at the amount of blood they keep on reserve for those rich old bastards.” He rolled his eyes and you managed a genuine laugh. “I don’t know I would.” He smiled at you before continuing out of the room, with you following almost eagerly behind. The tour led down one last hallway to a set of double doors.

“Now my favorite room. My private study.” He opened the doors. A library that could’ve easily fit 10 of your vans with celling high bookshelves stretched before your eyes. A cozy looking couch sat across from either one of the 2 fire places on opposite walls, and a huge bay window revealed the storm had truly arrived. Gone was the moon, here were flashes of lightening and roars of thunder. In front of the windows sat a big mahogany desk. You strode over to the desk, to see out the window and there on his desk was a stack of all of your books. As you looked back towards him you could see on the walls, one of your photographs.

It was one you’d camped out and waited all night for in the woods. But you’d caught them, a pack of wolves running through the woods under a moonlit sky.

“I saw it in a little café in Boston and had to have it. I’ve been following you for quite some time. Literally.” He chuckled. “I became enraptured with you. Your pictures moved me. How you always seemed to capture both the joyful and the macabre sides of humanity. That’s why I had to get your book published. So, I bought the publishing company to make it happen” You turned to him in disbelief.

“Bucky, you…you didn’t…you couldn’t have…”

“Oh, but yes I did, doll. It’s what you’ve wanted, what you’ve desired.” His voice dropped. He licked his lips and moved closer to you. “And now, my little bunny rabbit. It’s time to take what I have desired for so long.” He grabbed your hand and tugged you back towards the desk, using his strength to lift you up and pin you down on your back, minding your head.

His confession, his obsession, even with his charming personality, you felt fear flaring up inside you anyways. “Wait please…” you pleaded, pressing your hand against his chest.

“No more waiting printsessa. It’s time. I need to satisfy my thirst. And my lust. And I cannot resist the sound of your pulse screaming out for me.” He paused, pressing his hips more against yours. You wanted to resist, wanted to push harder against him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Instead, you wanted to bring him closer.

“No…you gave your word…” you begged, desperately.

“I did. And I’ve kept that word. I did nothing to control you. I just failed to mention that my natural state is to lure you in. Until you’re caught like a fly in my web and you don’t even realize it.” He purred, trailing kisses down your cheek. “You’re in my home, surrounded by me, breathing me in until slowly and slowly your defenses have lowered, until you don’t even have the strength to push me away.”

He was right. You had wanted to resist him but you’d felt it crumbling more and more. Like the walls of that stone church. You were gripping his shirt not to push him away, but wanting to pull him close. Handsome, intelligent, alluring. Your thighs clenched with want.

“When I first drank your blood, there was a taste of fear that was indescribable. But now I know, lust will make it even sweeter.” He grabbed your hips and lifted you onto the desk. “So beautiful, but so…fragile.” His fleshed hand wrapped around your throat; you could feel the bitemarks as his thumb ran over them. “You know all I’d have to do is squeeze, right? And I’d crush this fragile beautiful throat. You’re so delicate.” His voice was low. You were still afraid, but that fear was streaked with desire. You wanted to give yourself to him, no matter what the cost.

“Please…Bucky…” you whimpered, not even sure what you were asking for.

“Please what, baby? Tell me. Tell me you want me to ravage you like the beast that I am. I can smell your pussy; you must be absolutely dripping by now.” You were drowning. And he was oxygen.

“Yes.” You barely breathed the word out before his lips were on yours. He slowly pushed you to lay down on the desk. You could hear rumbling in your ears. You couldn’t tell if it was the storm, or your heartbeat. But judging by how Bucky was staring down at you, you assumed the latter.

“You’re so excited aren’t you, doll? You want me to fuck you, make you my slut. And I will, you are never leaving me.” He pulling away, making you whine in desperation, but his only response was to growl as he ripped your jeans down, your shoes falling away and leaving only your panties covering your pussy. He knelt between them, putting your legs over his shoulder, and inhaled deeply.

“Fuck.” He groaned. “You are soaking wet. How long have you been hiding this, huh? Since I first drank your blood, or from when I told you that I am absolutely obsessed with you? What a shameless slut.” His words, that voice, you would listen to him forever if he wanted, anything to get him to touch you. His fingers moved slowly, stroking you over your panties.

“I’ve dreamed about eating this pussy for so long, and now I’m going to savor every moment.” You tried to buck your hips as he nipped at your thigh, but his silver arm held you firm. In the bright light of the fire, you could see how each of the platelets moved as he gripped you tighter. You looked back down at him between your legs and knew he’d seen you staring.

“Someday I’ll show you everything it can do baby. But for now...” He pulled your panties aside and started with soft licks to your clit while two fingers gently worked inside you. His touch was so gentile compared to the monster you’d feared him as. Your soft moan turned into a shriek as the edge of his fang nipped you.

“I told you, love. Desire will make the blood so much sweeter. I know you want me. Want to be my little snack for all eternity.” His fingers sped up, rubbing that special spot inside you that make you cry out with reckless abandon.

“Bucky…Bucky…don’t stop…oooh…” you moaned. Your hands clasping for structure and finding none. His tongue resumed its ministrations on your clit, never even giving his words a chance to wash over you as your knees began to shake. You could feel the erratic patterns his tongue was laving on your clit, driving your climax further to its breaking point.

“Cum for me, darling. Give yourself to me.” His words were your undoing as you screamed his name. Cumming harder than you could have ever imagined possible. And true to his word, his tongue lapped up every drop it could, sucking his fingers clean. You lay against the cool desk, your body burning with desire and you locked eyes with him, not caring to look away. He smiled, showing off his fangs. “Oh, baby girl, between your blood and your pussy, I’ll never go hungry again.”

Standing up and leaning over to kiss you, you found yourself tugging at his shirt, trying to get his skin on yours again.

“Bucky please…need you…” you begged.

“How can I deny such a sweet bunny like you?” He rid himself of his shirt and sweatpants as you followed suit, dropping your panties to the floor. Your eyes widened at the size of his cock. You’d had your fun with toys but he was something else. You could see pre-cum dribbling down the side and you wanted to close your legs, but Bucky stood between them

“Don’t look so afraid, doll. I know a good slut like you can take my cock in that pretty pussy.” He rubbed the head of his cock against your slit and you tried to push your hips up. He pinched your thigh, making you squeak. With his spare hand, he gathered your hands in his strong metal one, pinning them above you to the surface of the desk. His cock teased your entrance and you both moaned.

“You’re mine now, understand. Heart, body, mind.” He kissed from your temple to your ear. “I own you down to your very soul. Forever.” You nodded. He was a vampire. He was obsessed with you. He’d likely hunted you down for weeks. But none of that mattered now. You needed him.

“Yes, Bucky. I’m yours. You’re mine.” Bucky smiled and pushed his cock into you, slowly; letting you feel the stretch of him filling you up.

“Yes, darling. I’m yours. Yours to keep satisfied. Yours to use you as a little fuck toy when I need it.” His pace became rougher, fucking you; squeezing your wrists tighter until you yelped. Then he slowed his hips, letting you now revel in the pleasure you felt. He started rubbing at your still sensitive clit, making you clench around him. He growled deeply and you gasped as his eyes flashed crimson.

“Oh, baby doll, don’t play with fire if you don’t want to end up burnt.” He said, his voice lower and huskier. You knew he was getting closer to his own release when his pace picked up again. Not as punishing as before, but you felt his lust, his carnality in every thrust. And it only drove you crazier.

“When you cum, I’m going to drink from you again and you will be bound to me, my mate, my slut, little morsel.

“Yes…Bucky yes…please…” closer and closer you edged until he let out a low growl.

“If you don’t cum right now, I have no problem chaining you in my basement and edging you until the next full moon. Now. Cum.” The idea alone sent you over the edge, screaming out as he bit down fiercely on your neck, drinking from you again. He kept fucking you through his own orgasm, but did not drink as much as he did last time. Only just enough to make you light headed. When he finished, you two lay there a few moments, you breathing heavily as Bucky seemed to still above you. As you floated back down, your body seemed to go even more limp.

“Such a good girl.” Bucky released your wrists, but you didn’t have the strength to move your arms. Instead, he cupped your chin in his hand and kissed you with your blood streaked across his lips. He kissed passionately and deeply, until your toes curled and you knew he meant what he said.

Not bothering to remove himself, Bucky helped you wrapped your arms around him and he carried you over to one of the enormous couches by the fire. Grabbing a blanket off the back and swaddling you both. “You’ll have to sleep for a little while now. But when you wake up, you’ll live forever.” His words seeped into your brain, but there was nothing you could do now. You heard him speak again.

“You wanna know the real story behind those people?” Bucky asked and you made a noise of half-committal. “Well, those colonizers weren’t hard to pick off.” In that moment, you were reminded that though he seemed to have a soft spot for you, there were also very, very dark spots. You shuddered, but it was quickly washed away by the feeling of his metal arm, holding you tighter.

“Don’t worry darling,” he purred. “Think of all the beautiful photos you can take in the moonlight.

#bunbun's spooptober collection #vampire!bucky #Vampire!Bucky x reader #Bucky barnes #Bucky barnes x reader #halloween #vampires #darkish!Bucky

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npdclaraoswald · 3 months

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Another crosspost from my Instagram! Original caption:

Black Superheroes for Black History Month!!!💥📖📚

Normally I split this type of post in two, one with characters I've already read and loved and one with characters I want to read in the future. But I haven't read too much DC, and BDS is still calling for a boycott against Marvel while the Captain America 4 movie plans to contain Sabra, a character who is Israeli propaganda personified, and I don't want to promote any Marvel characters while that is going on. So, we have a DC only edition. The only characters in this list that I've read at least one full book for are Connor, Duke, and Virgil, so I apologize if there's any incorrect information.

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its-my-barbeque · 2 months

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Started thinking about the implications and now I have a theory: The reason why General John MacNamara is so different in TGWDLM and Black Friday is because of who is telling the story.

We know the narrator for TGWDLM is Pokey. Its a retelling of the events and he is in control of what we see and hear - its why the characters cant hear the instruments but we can. This is also backed by the title number and Emma specifically (but that's a post for another time).

In Black Friday, we don't have confirmation on who the narrator is but tis safe to assume one of two options; either the ensemble (Tom, Becky, Lex, etc) or Webby. In this case, we're leaning towards Webby as there are interactions that would be difficult to see otherwise - ie the presidents office before the start of 'Monsters and Men'.

In regards to MacNamara, we know the Lords have history with him. During 'Made in America', while Wilbur is the one who calls out to him, in the captions its credited to Wiggly. This could be attributed to him being a General for PEIP, but there was a little too much malice in the ost for me to believe that's the case. While we don't see it happen, it's clear that MacNamara has not only impeded the Lords progress, but has actively stopped them - probably on multiple occasions. Additionally, he is a Warrior of Light: he can wield the Blade of Truth and has helped Hannah and Lex (Webby's chosen vessels) on multiple occasions (Orb Weaver isn't out yet but that is the synopsis so that would make the pervious point true on two sperate accounts). And even if he isn't a Warrior of Light, the enemy of my enemy is my friend - he is at the very least and ally of Webby.

Now for how that affects his characterization;

In TGWDLM MacNamara is a bit more aggressive and sporadic, even to a silly extent that can seem a bit much at times. He has wide eyes, he's constantly moving, and goes on tangents. Then, despite his title of General, he is easily defeated and absorbed by the Hive. Why is that? Well, because Pokey is the narrator. I wouldn't push it so far as to say its propaganda against PEIP ("look at how silly this so-called military is. even their general is weak! they couldn't be a threat if they tried"), but it absolutely carries a mocking tone. Pokey wants you to laugh at MacNamara, not take him seriously.

In Black Friday, however, MacNamara carries a very different tone. He's calm, collected, knows exactly how to handle almost every situation. In this one, you could actually believe that he is a General and not just some guy with a gun. This can be attributed to Webby being the narrator. She agrees with his values (note 'the value of the human heart' dialog vs 'The Witch in the Web' and how Webby treats Willabella) and, as stated previously, is allied with him in some way. Webby wants to paint MacNamara in a good light, and have you see him as a hero.

#-eve #general john macnamara #the guy who didn't like musicals #black friday #webby hatchetfield #pokotho #the lords in black #hatchetfield #hatchetverse #just some fun little thoughts

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dean-a-mean-tae · 4 months

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"Western" Friends | Stray Kids Extra Member AU

Some of Nicholas' friends from the US

WARNINGS: (Let me be delusional) Someone being racist, Nicholas getting scolded, Nicholas' height being painful for pictures, and mention of scandal?

(@cafekitsune made the dividers) | Nicholas Ross Master List

✧*̥˚𝙉𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙞 𝙈𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙟*̥˚✧

The Mother He Never Had

Surprisingly, some of STAY and the Barbz brought him to her attention during one of her Lives. She did a little research on him and saw his talent. She read about the little snippets of his past that reached the internet. Somehow, they managed to get in touch.

Nicholas sends her his ideas, and Nicki helps him find his own style in music. She ships him snacks from America. Nicki constantly calls him to check on him. She ensures he takes his medication and eats at least 2 meals and 2 snacks daily.

Nicholas looks up to Nicki. He's seen all the hard work she put into all her work. He strives to make her proud. Nicki's view of him is important to Nicholas. She's helped him find himself and showed him the things he missed during his childhood in the US.

There's obviously a time zone difference, so sometimes, in the middle of their conversation, Nicki tells him to go to bed and continue the discussion later. "Isn't 11 at night over there? Get in the bed!"

Bonus: Though Nicholas is taller than her, Nicki loves to hold him. She'll sit on the couch, and he'll lay across her lap while she rubs his back. Sometimes, Nick will sit in front of her while she does his hair.

✧*̥˚𝙉𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙞*̥˚✧

His Safest Friend

She overheard someone mention a "black boy in a Korean band" and how he "didn't belong." She didn't know who they were talking about, but race shouldn't stop you from doing something like making music. Without knowing who Nicholas was, Normani defended him. It went viral, and Nicholas was allowed to publicly thank her.

They call each other and watch the same movie or series together. Usually, Normani picks so she can expand his movie knowledge, but on the rare occasion that Nick chooses, Normani is proud.

The "small" things make her proud of him, like writing at least two sentences for a project. The "bigger" things make her proud, too, like mastering the choreography for their latest comeback. "You have this energy. It makes people feel safe. Never lose that, okay?"

Bonus: Normani is the one who carries Nicholas around on her back. She claims he needs some "good ol' babying." It never fails to make him laugh.

✧*̥˚𝙎𝙕𝘼*̥˚✧

Sister From Another Mister

She found out about him while scrolling around on TikTok. The video was a soft edit of Nicholas, thanking him for showing that "Famous" people are people. She read the caption saying he talked about his condition and watched it. Somehow, they managed to get in touch.

They text more than they call simply because of Nicholas' schedule. SZA will call him in the middle of her filming a video and ask for his help on something. It's her way of secretly getting him to explore new things.

Different time zones usually mean a struggle with communication. Not with these two. One might fall asleep, so the other will text the rest of whatever they were gonna say, and they'll continue the conversation when whoever wakes up. "Did this- He actually sleep."

Bonus: It always tickles SZA whenever she takes a picture with Nicholas. Sometimes, he has to bend unnaturally, or she has to stand on her tiptoes. Occasionally, they'll use a chair or something. But Nicholas thinks SZA likes showing their height difference, no matter how painful taking pictures is.

✧*̥˚𝙈𝙚𝙜𝙖𝙣 𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙚 𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙤𝙣*̥˚✧

Tight-knit, Ride or Die, Friends For Life

The Normani Defending Nicholas incident brought him to Megan's attention. An Afro-Korean boy in a Korean boy group is being defended by an African-American singer. Normani at that? Megan had to know more.

She read more about Nicholas and his past. She reached out to Normani and found out that the girl barely knew him. Somehow, Megan got ahold of Nicholas.

She spoils Nicholas beyond content. You wanted this bag, but it's only sold in America? It's being flown over now. Did you want these chips? A box will be there in half a week.

Nicholas has a room in Megan's house. She FaceTimed him while she shopped for it and the next time he could visit her, he helped decorate the room. After they finished, she told him the room was for him. "You know this yo room, right? Boy, you are family! You gon have a room!"

Bonus: Megan and Nicholas are always doing something. Megan Thee Stallion and Nicholas Ross from Stray Kids were seen on a shopping date. Megan Thee Stallion and Nicholas Ross from Stray Kids were seen awfully close. Megan Thee Stallion and Nicholas Ross from Stray Kids were seen on a date at a Waffle House. It's always something going on, and they're consistently being blown out of proportion.

Nicholas Ross Master List

©️DEANAMEANTAE2023

Tag list: @bada-lee-ily,

#deantae nicholas ross #skz 9th member #stray kids 9th member #skz x reader #skz x male reader #stray kids x male reader #stray kids x reader #skz x 9th member #stray kids extra member #stray kids with the 9th member #9th member of stray kids #9th member of skz #skz x oc #skz x black reader

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thefrontofmymind · 9 months

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ex!reader x matty healy ig blurb

FC: Heather Baron-Gracie

a/n: added on blurb

~~~

rass1975 via instagram stories:

yninstagram via instagram stories:

~~~

yninstagram we look kewl

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ynfan1 OMG YN AND MATTYYYYY

ynfriend sexy beasts xxx

>trumanblack thanks xxx

ynfan2 the goth council has come together to decide all our fates

bedforddanes pale bitches x

>yninstagram ill fuck u up

trumanblack im cool. yn did my makeup, its cool.

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1975fan1 i am frothing at the mouth rn

yninstagram fit

1975fan2 i so wish i was at this party it looks so cool

rass1975 Yeah yeah. You look cool get over it

yninstagram shut up i'm busy

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ynfan1 so prettyyyyy

ynfan2 I LOVE THIS

trumanblack fit

>yninstagram didn’t i just fucking tell you to shut up?

1975ynfan1 ok loving this tension,,,,

1975ynfan2 wait is that matty’s guitar???

>1975fan1 OMG I THINK YOURE RIGHT

nme Extra! Extra! Read all about it! Dirty Hit Records ushers in a new era, with the addition of YN on their roster. This news comes after apparent months of negotiation (and close friend of Matty Healy on her side!) New interview in our next issue!

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1975ynfan1 this has totally convinced me that theyre together why tf would they do a whole photoshoot together if they weren’t

ynfan1 am i the only one who doesn’t like the way they worded this? Like she’s such a good artist, the fact that she’s friends with Matty doesn’t mean anything! She got that record deal on her own merit

1975ynfan2 omg they both look so hot in this

1975fan1 goth parents

yninstagram throwback to when we were allowed outside

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ynfan1 where are you quarantining queen???

>yninstagram with a close friend babyyyy

ynfan2 so sad you had to postpone the tour :((( i was going to toronto

ynfan3 will the new album be postponed too??

>yninstagram hopefully not. Still set for later on in the year ❤️❤️

ynundates yn today performing at Reading Festival!!!

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ynfan1 ok so we haven’t seen her in TWO YEARS and she’s back and a platinum blonde????

ynfan2 newalbumsoonnewalbumsoonnewalbumsoon

>ynfan3 ikr SO PUMPED

ynfan4 did anyone catch a video of when she said something like ‘im in a different place now than when i wrote all these love songs’ and then i didnt hear the end of what she said???

>ynupdates its on our page! The full quote is “I’m in a very different place than when I wrote all of those love songs. Me and him aren’t together now so…Expect a breakup album soon!”

>ynfan5 omg poor yn :(( (though i wonder who she’s talking aboutttt)

yninstagram officially here to tell you that blondes don’t always have more fun. and i’m on tour in North America in three months get ready.

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ynfan1 AAHHH SEEING YOU IN NEW YORK

>yninstagram SEE U THERE BB

ynfan2 PLEASE come to asia!!

ynfan3 when is the album???

>yninstagram beginning of next year!!

ynfan4 yn looks so pretty with black OR blonde hair!!

yninstagram first show lets go

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ynfan1 the COOLEST fit

bedforddanes good luck mate.

>yninstagram thanks mate.

ynfan2 cant wait to see you in Milwaukee!!

1975ynfan1 does anyone else think its weird that yn and the 1975’s tours match up cities like 4 times???

>1975ynfan2 probably just a coincidence, there’s only so many cities in america

>1975ynfan1 idk its just yn and matty havent interacted in so long and it seems like theyve both gone through private breakups recently,,,,got me thinking

>ynfan3 maybe not the best to speculate on people’s private lives?? Lets just leave them to it?

yninstagram new single out now. Not Another Rockstar. its cool.

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ynfan1 omg wait the caption??? Is that a matty reference???

>ynfan2 idkkkk IM HERE FOR THE DRAMAAA

ynfan3 yn is straight up ethereal

charli_xcx so proud of youuuuu

>yninstagram Xxx

yninstagram london r u ready??

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ynfan1 so jealous im not there!!!

ynfan2 obsessed with this makeup!!

pollymoney looking lush!!

ynfan3 come to nz!

rollingstone “Growing into different people can hurt, but it’s always the way of life, we just have to move on” - YN talks touring post-covid and new album! Link in bio!

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yninstagram thank you for having me.

ynfan1 need to punch whoever she was talking about with the quote in the article ‘I was badly hurt by my ex, he’s said some horrid things about me when I thought our breakup was pretty amicable.’

ynfan2 i remember when yn was just starting out and now look at her!!

ynfan3 mother was mothering in this shoot

yninstagram what happens on tour, stays on tour. this includes going to bed at a reasonable hour and being on vocal rest for 20 hours of the day.

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ynfan1 saw you in Lisbon!! Best concert ive ever been to!!

ynfan2 omg obsessed with that top…

1975adam the joys of tour life hey?

>yninstagram dont i know it?

yninstagram new album, Nothing Matters, is out tomorrow. this is such a personal album for me, showing the deepest parts of myself.

To you (you know)

Even though we spent months tearing each other apart, and we’ve both said some questionable things in retaliation, you know I’ll always hold you in my heart. I was at my best with you and I hope one day we can reach a point when we can be friends. I miss you and all the funny things you tell me when you stoned off your nut and barely knew how to speak anymore.

Thank you, darling. For everything.

limited comments

charli_xcx beautiful album baby. top of 2023!

ynfriend love it!!

rass1975 well done mate. Its a good’un

trumanblack love it.

>yninstagram x

#matty healy x reader #matty healy blurb #matty healy imagine

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theremina · 1 year

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Adoption causes way more intergenerational trauma and collective health crises than I think many "kept" people realize.

If you bother to read it, the science is clear: adoption is violently traumatic, causing devastating, irreversible health issues for millions of human beings. Yet I'd have more luck conveying the severity and longevity of my own trauma to most non-adoptees with "I was dropped on my head as a baby."

Heck, I didn't begin to contend with the horrors of my own situation until my mid forties. Being yeeted directly after birth into foster care and eventually adopted by lovely, well-intentioned folks who were not prepared *at all* to help me deal with the lifelong neurodevelopmental disorders and physical health problems directly caused by my abandonment at birth has permanently damaged me. I'm saying so as one of the "lucky ones".

I adore my adoptive family. They're incredible parents. We love each other dearly. This doesn't change the fact, not for one second, that I wouldn't wish adoption on ANYBODY. Thankfully, my folks understand this. I wish more adoptive parents did.

The modern adoption industry* is, by design, deeply misogynistic, racist, transactional, ableist, imperialist, colonial. Ignorance and hate and apathy and coercion and subjugation and dehumanization and capitalism keep the machine running.

We're already seeing the beginning of Baby Scoop Too: Electric Boogaloo on Facebook. On Twitter. On Instagram. On other social media platforms owned and controlled by obscenely wealthy white men who don't consider private adoptions to be unethical.

You may *think* that legalized human trafficking doesn't really effect you, but soon, if the Christofascists continue their cultural blitzkrieg, the amount of infants and children who end up in the foster care system, adopted by unqualified people, in devastating private "rehoming" situations like the one shared above, or worse, is gonna SKYROCKET.

So...I'm barely on Facebook anymore for a few different reasons. One of them is that I couldn't handle watching a whole bunch of ignorant self-proclaimed feminists making shitty adoption jokes after Roe was overturned.

Another reason is that Facebook is LITERALLY A BABY MARKET.

ADOPTIVE PARENTS ARE BUYING AND SELLING CHILDREN ON FACEBOOK. WHAT THE ACTUAL UNFORTUNATE FUCK.

Nearly 100 million American families are in the adoption triad, with a majority of adoptees' needs and voices being considered last instead of first. It's so backwards.

Non-kinship adoption is a systemic violence that cannot help but touch the lives of billions. That is so very, very bad for ALL of us, not just abandoned infants and children or their struggling parents.

Some straightforward response questions for every person who has ever asked me about about my adoption:

Are you a feminist? Are you antiracist? Are you a humanitarian? Anti-ableist? Do you consider yourself lefty, liberal, or otherwise progressive? Do you respect science? Then please reevaluate your perceptions of adoption.

For every adoptive or bio parent you listen to, listen to three or more adoptees. For every shitty adoption "joke" you've ever told, check in with an adoptee (or first mom) in a kind and caring way. For every ignorant question you've ever asked an adoptee about our "real parents", crack a book!

Please. Do some research. Learn. Please. Center transracial adoptees, international adoptees, disabled adoptees, queer adoptees. Please. This stuff impacts all of us just as surely as countless other aspects of systemic rape culture do. Try to understand. Please.

I'm more certain than ever that we must abolish before we can rebuild.

Please give a shit. Please.

*The fact that adoption is an industry at all should shock and horrify us all, and yet... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[image description: a screenshot of a Facebook post with a black border and caption reading, “Welcome to America, where people try to regime adopted children on Facebook Marketplace.” The Facebook post itself reads, “So basically they either want him to come back home, or have CPS place him in a foster home. Or I can find someone willing to take him in, and ‘under the table’ pay them the stipend, we get. If CPS places him they will have to have an open case against me. In doing that I will lose my job. I cannot work at a daycare, school, group home etc. if I have an open active CPS case against me. How the hell do I go about ‘re-homing’ my child? Should I create a post in market place? Through no fault of our own, we are being forced to re-home our thirteen year old son. He can be the most loving, helpful young man. He does suffer some learning difficulties. He comes with a complete wardrobe and a monthly allotment. Only serious inquiries please.” End id]

#karpoozy #adoptee #adoption is violence #adoption is annihilation #adoption is racist #adoption is sexist #adoption = imperialism #adoptee voices #adoption is legal human trafficking #cw rape culture

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fatehbaz · 1 year

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At the intersection of Ohio, Michigan and Indiana, the corn monoculture melts away to reveal green rolling hills and deep gorges. The lush forest is pockmarked by steep-banked ponds, carved out by retreating glaciers 10,000 years ago. Standing waist-deep in a forest pool, Megan Seymour scans the shrubby banks with binoculars. A slight change in colour and texture spotted in the tangled buttonbush swamp reveals her quarry: a thick, glossy, copperbelly water snake (Nerodia erythrogaster neglecta). [...]

The copperbelly water snake – named for its tangerine-orange underside – inhabited what was one of the largest wetland areas in North America.

Roughly the size of Connecticut and stretching from Fort Wayne in Indiana across much of north-west Ohio, the Great Black Swamp was home to elk, wolves, mountain lions and black bears.

In the mid-19th century, farmers began to clear the trees and drain the swamp to access the fertile soil hidden beneath the water. In just five decades, the Great Black Swamp was dry.

Today, the copperbelly water snake lays claim to just 50 sq km (20 sq miles) of remnant swamp forest in the tri-state area – slightly smaller than Manhattan Island.

Though the exact number of the reptiles is not known, experts estimate that fewer than 100 individuals, possibly as few as 40, remain.

“I think they will be gone within 20 years,” says [...] a land steward with the Nature Conservancy [...]. He believes saving the copperbelly water snake is essential to the region’s ecology because it is “an umbrella species” [...] for dozens of other declining species that rely on the swamp forest, including the rare bobolink blackbird and the checkerspot butterfly. When Seymour began searching for copperbelly water snakes in spring 2021, no one had seen one alive in the wild in almost three years. She spent more than 180 hours combing through the wetlands historically inhabited by the species but found none. [...]

---

All content above, images, caption, and text published by: Ryan Wagner. “‘They aren’t mean and they aren’t trying to get you’: saving the copperbelly water snake.” The Guardian. 14 February 2023. [All photos published with this story were also taken by Ryan Wagner. Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks added by me.]

For reference, here’s the distribution range of the copperbelly water snake:

And here, what was once the Great Black Swamp:

Snake, endemic species unique to Great Lakes region and flooded prairies of the “Prairie Peninsula,” nearly extinct.

#extinction #endemic species #great lakes #prairie #go check out the distribution map for the Kirtlands snake and see how it also is endemic to limited wetlands in Illinois Indiana and Ohio #Kirtlands snake is a crayfish specialist that lives in crustacean burrow systems in flooded prairies #also the eastern massasauga aka the miniature swamp rattlesnake also uses crayfish burrows and limited to wetlands of great lakes region

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dc-marvel-life · 1 year

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Masterlist

This is the place where you can find all of my current writings. I write DC comics and Marvel fanfics/ships. I do write for LGBTQ+, I am pansexual myself. Just ask if you have a request and we can work something out.

Smut = @ Angst = () Fluff = $ Headcannon = % Drabbles = #

Request Are Open

Dick Grayson/Nightwing

Jason Todd/Red Hood

Damian Wayne/Robin

Tim Drake/Red Robin

Jaime Reyes/Blue Beetle

Bat-Family

Bruce Wayne/Batman

Marvel

Warren Worthington III/Angel

% - Warren Asking You Out Would Be Like…

Wanda Maximoff/Scarlet Witch

% - Dating Wanda Maximoff Would Be Like…

#$ - Should We?

#- Can We Keep You?

Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow

% - What Dating Natasha Romanoff Would Be Like…

% - Dating Natasha Romanoff and Pietro Matimoff Would Be Like…

Valkyrie

() - My Queen

Pietro Maximoff/Quick Silver

% - Dating Natasha Romanoff and Pietro Matimoff Would Be Like…

% - Dating Jason Todd and Pietro Maximoff Would Be Like…

Steve Rodgers/Caption America

% - Dating Modern-Day Pre-Serum Steve Rogers

% - Dating Pre-Serum Steve Rogers In College

$ - Flesh Wound

# - Taxi Service

Yelena Belova

$ - Do You Even Love Me

Crossover

$ - When did This Happen (Jason Todd X Stark! Reader)

$ - Works Every Time (Diana Prince x Carol Danvers x reader)

Poly

% - Dating Jason Todd and Pietro Maximoff Would Be Like…

$ - My Strong Girl (Supergirl x Wonder Woman)

$ - Love/Hate the Heat (Supergirl x Wonder Woman x reader)

$ - Perfect Fit (Wanda x Natasha x reader) - Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

$ - These are my Ladies

#masterlist

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garadinervi · 5 months

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For her, poetry is a social act, by Mickey Fridman, «San Francisco Examiner», December 7, 1977 [Constellations of Black feminism in UC Berkeley’s archives – Stories of UC Berkeley Library. Carton 6:50, Barbara Christian papers, BANC MSS 2003/199 c, The Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley, CA]

(transcription)

For her, poetry is a social act

By Mickey Friedman Examiner Photo by Katy Raddatz

(Image description) June Jordan is seen in front of a chalkboard, looking toward the camera. (Image caption) June Jordan: The New York Times wrote: 'Whatever becomes of poetry in English hereafter, Jordan's poems will likely be a conspicuous part of it'

While many who write poetry do so for private self-expression, poet June Jordan feels that inner satisfaction is only half the story. For her, a poem is a social act. "If you hope to deserve the attention of anyone other than yourself, you're serving a social goal," she says.

At 41, June Jordan has published 10 books. She is black, politically active, a native of Harlem who grew up in Brooklyn's Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood, where she was a member of a gang called the Royal Bops. She is divorced and has a son at Harvard. Her latest book of poetry, "Things That I Do in the Dark" (Random House) is a selection of her work from 1966 to 1976.

Of the book, Hayden Carruth wrote in the New York Times Book Review, "Whatever becomes of poetry in English hereafter, Jordan's poems will likely be a conspicuous part of it."

Jordan does not talk about other people understanding or empathizing with her poems. What her readers can do, she hopes, is "use" her work, implying an active partnership between writer and reader. "If you write a love poem, if it's a good poem, you've depicted your feelings with accuracy. If other people can use it, they come to a better understanding of their own love," she says.

Along with poems on blackness, politics and a gamut of other topics, a section of "Things That I Do in the Dark" is devoted to love poems — some of them passionate and lyrical, others, like "About Long Distances on Saturday," slightly wry:

he calls me from his house and the timing seems bad and I offer to call him back later but he says "no" I'm about to split for the weekend so call me yeah early next week or sometime and the answer is that the question is (isn't it) where are you going baby without me?

Jordan, very much the conscious artist, does not write in the "confessional" mode that "dominated poetry in the '50s," she says. "I feel that confessional poetry was a part of my life in my late teens, at a time when I wasn't really interested in other people," she says. "Most of us stop being teen-agers, and want other people to care about what we're doing. During the '60s, the civil rights movement, the peace movement and the women's movement served to propel us out of the confessional mode into a more political posture. In the context of these three movements, poetry received an enormous boost in interest."

Since language is one of Jordan's basic concerns, she has been empathetic about preserving the nuances of black English and not teaching black children that their speech is wrong. She has written, "… as a black poet and writer, I hate words that cancel my name and my history and the freedom of my future; I hate the words that condemn and refuse the language of my people in America." In her own poems, the cadences of black speech are often evident.

Jordan says she became a poet "as a result of reading Shakespeare and the Bible when I was much too young to understand them. I was influenced by the music of the words." She was also strongly affected by hearing recordings of Dylan Thomas reading his poetry: "It had a tremendous influence on me. It was almost as if he were speaking Spanish in English, it was so musical. My other big influence was Shelley. He's also mellifluous and musical."

One of Jordan's most pressing concerns at the moment is the deterioration of language. "This is one political struggle I hope I'm a serious part of," she says. "If we don't retrieve our language so we can trust it, the possibilities for interaction are gone. There isn't an alternative to words." Mentioning George Orwell's essay, "Politics and the English Language," Jordan says that political figures have been prime offenders: "The guiding principle that has been inculcated in our leaders is that they should only deal with one idea, and reiterate it over and over," she says. "Most things are more complicated than that. This is a public style of dishonesty that comes from the misuse of our language."

In these days when rhyme and meter have largely gone by the board, it is sometimes hard for the layman to judge what constitutes a good poem. Can objective standards be applied? Jordan says emphatically that they can, and sets forth guidelines in a series of questions: "First, find out what the poet was trying to do. What is he trying to have you see, feel, smell? Then, ask yourself if he has done it. Are the images hackneyed? Is there consistency in the kind of language that's used? If not, does it add to the impact of the poem? Are the verb tenses consistent? Do you feel the voice inside the poem is clear?"

Jordan is currently working on her second novel, "OK, Now," which will be published in the winter of 1978. "The idea is an enormous idea, in the Utopian tradition," she says. "It's written with a somewhat proselytizing attitude. It's about a commune, and land reform in Mississippi. I have to take it through good and bad times, enough so people don't feel I've loaded the scales."

How is writing a novel different from writing poetry? "In a poem, you can contain two voices at best. But in a novel, you can encompass a likely variety of contemporary Americans."

After the novel, Jordan wants to write a book of poems "that will involve getting to know this country. I think it's ridiculous to call yourself an American poet and all you know is New York." To help her learn the country, Jordan is considering moving to the Bay Area, where she would teach at UC Berkeley. "In New York, everything is so expensive and so dense," she says. "I want to come out here and see how people live when the environmental stress has been drastically reduced. I'd like to know how it feels to be able to park your car next to your house."

Page 22—S.F. Examiner Wed., Dec. 7, 1977

#graphic design #poetry #newspaper #june jordan #mickey fridman #san francisco examiner #barbara christian papers #the bancroft library #university of california library #1970s

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 6 months

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By: Yascha Mounk

Published: Oct 16, 2023

On October 7th, the world witnessed the worst slaughter of Jews since the Holocaust. Hundreds of attendees at a music festival were murdered in cold blood. Families hiding in their homes were burned alive. Jewish mothers and fathers were, in an eerie echo of the 1940s, imploring their children to stay quiet lest their would-be murderers should detect their whereabouts. Nearly two hundred people remain in the clutches of a terrorist organization that announced its genocidal intentions in its founding charter.

Many people, of all faiths and convictions, have recognized the enormity of these crimes. Numerous world leaders denounced the terrorist attacks in clear language. Private citizens shared their grief on social media. Millions mourned. But despite the outpouring of support, there has also been a large contingent of people and organizations who stayed uncharacteristically silent—or went so far as to celebrate the carnage.

Even as British Prime Minister Rishi Sunak found clear words about Hamas, for example, the BBC have steadfastly refused to call the Hamas fighters who killed over 1200 people by the name rightfully reserved for those who deliberately target innocent civilians for political ends: terrorists. Meanwhile, many schools and universities, nonprofit organizations and corporations that have over the past years gotten into the business of condemning and commemorating all kinds of tragedies, both small and large, fell uncharacteristically silent.

Some of the most famous universities in the world—including Princeton, Yale and Stanford—only released statements after they came under intense pressure on social media. At Harvard University, it took pressure from alumni and an outraged thread on X by Larry Summers, a former president of the institution, to prompt his successor into belated action.

Worse still were the people and organizations who actively celebrated the pogroms. Multiple chapters of the Democratic Socialists of America, which continues to count Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez among its ranks, encouraged their followers to attend rallies that glorified Hamas’ terror as a righteous form of resistance. As its San Francisco chapter wrote on X, the “weekend’s events” should be seen as part and parcel of Palestinians’ “right to resist.” The Chicago chapter of the Black Lives Matter movement even glorified the terrorists who murdered scores of people at a rave in southern Israel, pairing a now-deleted image of a paraglider with the caption: “I stand with Palestine.”

Meanwhile, academics from leading universities were busy defending these terrorist attacks as a form of anti-colonial struggle. “Postcolonial, anticolonial, and decolonial are not just words you heard in your EDI workshop,” a professor in the school of social work at McMaster University, in Canada, wrote on X. “Settlers are not civilians,” a Yale professor who has written for mainstream outlets including The Washington Post and The New York Times, maintained.

All of this raises a simple question: How could such a notable portion of the left side with terrorists who openly announce their genocidal intentions? Why have key institutions proven so reluctant to denounce one of the worst terrorist attacks in living memory? What, to them, renders the victims of these attacks so much less worthy of solidarity than those of the many other atrocities they have full-throatedly condemned?

The ideological roots of the great obfuscation

In the past days, people have offered many possible explanations for this selective silence. Some focus on outright antisemitism. Others emphasize that an understandable concern over the immoral actions that Israeli governments have taken in the past have blinded many activists to the suffering of innocent Israeli civilians. Others still point out that institutional leaders want to avoid eliciting angry reactions from activists, preferring to stay silent on a sensitive issue out of simple fear for their jobs.

Each of these explanations contains a grain of truth. Some people in the world really are consumed by one of the world’s most ancient hatreds. Others are indeed hyper-focused on everything that Israel has done wrong, a stance that is easier to understand in the case of Palestinians whose ancestors have been displaced than it is in the case of leftist activists who have for many decades found the missteps of the one state that happens to be Jewish worthy of much greater condemnation than similar, or greater, missteps perpetrated by any other. Finally, it is indeed true that many university presidents, nonprofit leaders and corporate CEOs have, among the institutional meltdowns of the past years, come to believe that they must avoid controversy at all costs if they are to keep drawing their generous paychecks.

But the double-standard that has in the past days become so obvious on parts of the left also has a more profound source, one that is ideological rather than practical or atavistic. Over the past decades, a new set of ideas about the role that identity does— and should—play in the world have transformed the very nature of what it means to be on the left, displacing an older set of universalist aspirations in the process.

This novel ideology, which I call the “identity synthesis,” insists that we must see the whole world through the prism of identity categories like race. It maintains that the key to understanding any political conflict is to conceive of it in terms of the power relations between different identity groups. It analyzes the nature of those power relations through a simplistic schema that, based on the North American experience, pits so-called whites against so-called “people of color.” Finally, it imposes that schema—in a fashion that might, in the academic jargon of the day, ironically be called “neo-colonial”—on complex conflicts in faraway lands.

The trouble with structural racism

Many advocates of the identity synthesis rightly point out that an account of racism which focuses purely on individual beliefs or motivations runs the danger of concealing important forms of injustice. Even if everyone has the best of intentions, the after effects of historical injustices can ensure that many immigrant students attend underfunded public schools or that many members of ethnic minorities suffer disadvantages in the housing market. It therefore makes sense, they argue, to add a new concept to our vocabulary: structural racism.

As the Cambridge Dictionary explains, structural racism consists of “laws, rules, or official policies in a society that result in and support a continued unfair advantage to some people and unfair or harmful treatment of others based on race.” By pointing out that some forms of racism are “structural” in this way, we are better able to capture—and hopefully remedy—circumstances in which members of some racial groups suffer significant disadvantages for reasons other than individual bias.

This is plausible insofar as it goes. To understand contemporary America, it is indeed helpful to add the notion of structural racism to our conceptual toolbox. But in recent years, many advocates of the identity synthesis have gone one step further: they have begun to claim that this more recent concept of structural racism should altogether supplant the older concept of individual racism.

Rather than acknowledging that there are two different conceptions of racism, each of which helps to elucidate real injustices in its own way, parts of the left have come to conceptualize racism in an exclusively structural form. “Racism,” one online guide puts the growing consensus, “is different from racial prejudice, hatred, or discrimination” because it must involve “one group having the power to carry out systematic discrimination through the institutional policies and practices of the society and by shaping the cultural beliefs and values that support those racist policies and practices.”

In its most radical form, this claim entails that it is impossible for a member of a historically marginalized group to be racist toward a member of a historically dominant group. Because racism does not have anything to do with individual beliefs or attributes, and members of groups that are comparatively powerless are incapable of carrying out “systematic discrimination” against members of groups that are comparatively powerful, even the vilest forms of hatred need not count as racist. As an article in Vice put it, “It’s literally impossible to be racist to a white person.”

The result has, again and again, been a form of selective blindness when members of minority groups have expressed bigoted attitudes toward supposedly more privileged groups, including those that are themselves minorities. This inability to recognize the importance of the more traditional conception of racism makes it impossible to name what is happening when members of one minority group are the victims of hate crimes committed by members of another minority group that is now considered to suffer from greater disadvantages. In December 2019, for example, two terrorists killed a police detective and then murdered three people at a kosher grocery store in Jersey City, close to New York. They had a long trail of posting antisemitic content on social media; one assailant was a follower of the Black Hebrew Israelites, a movement which holds overtly antisemitic beliefs. But because the assailants were black, and the victims perceived as white, many news outlets failed to categorize the shooting as racist, or to treat it as a hate crime, for an astoundingly long period of time.

The trouble with white privilege

The idea that all racism is structural is deeply damaging because it makes it hard for institutions to open their eyes to forms of discrimination towards members of groups that are supposedly dominant. In practice, it is made even worse by the fact that many people on the left have now embraced a very simplistic notion of who is dominant and who is marginalized—one that imposes American conceptions of race onto situations in which they distort rather than illuminate underlying realities.

In North America, the most salient—though by no means the only—racial divide has for centuries been that between whites and blacks. In assessing which group is supposedly privileged in a foreign conflict, many Americans therefore think it is enough to figure out who is “white” and who is a “person of color.” This makes it impossible for them to understand conflicts in which the relevant political cleavage does not neatly pit whites against blacks (or, more broadly, “whites” against “people of color”).

Whoopi Goldberg, for example, has repeatedly insisted that the Holocaust was “not about race.” Since, from an American point of view, both Jewish and non-Jewish Germans are white, she found it impossible to get her head around an ideology that centers around racial distinctions between them. “You could not tell a Jew on a street,” she wrongly claimed. “You could find me. You couldn’t find them.”

In the case of Israel, this has led most observers to assume that there is a clear division in racial roles between Israelis and Palestinians: In their mind, Israelis are white, Palestinians “people of color.” And since white people have historically held power over non-white people, this reinforces the impression that it is impossible for Israelis to be victims of racial hatred.

But this perspective once again turns out to be so simplistic as to verge on the delusional. Ms. Goldberg was wrong to believe that Nazis were unable to spot Jews; though some Jews did manage to survive by passing themselves off as “Aryan,” many Nazis—and their collaborators in Central Europe—were highly effective at spotting people whom they suspected of being Jewish.

More importantly, the assumption that most of the victims of last Saturday’s terrorist attacks were “white” Jews with roots in Europe is simply wrong. It’s not just that there are black Israeli Jews whose ancestors immigrated from Ethiopia, or that Hamas’ victims included many migrants from Thailand and Nepal; it’s also that Israel as a whole is now home to more Mizrahi Jews, who hail from the Middle East, than Ashkenazi Jews, whose ancestors long lived in Europe.

I will leave it up to others to speculate on whether the visual differences between Jewish and non-Jewish Germans are more or less stark than those between Arabs and Mizrahi Jews. But the prominence of Mizrahi Jews also betrays yet another way in which attempts to fit the Israel-Palestine conflict into a simplistic conceptual scheme go badly wrong.

The trouble with Decolonialism

The actual demographic composition of the country makes claims that Israeli civilians should be seen as settlers who are fair game for terrorist attacks doubly cynical. They are cynical because no political cause, however righteous, justifies the deliberate targeting of babies and grandmothers—neither on the Israeli nor on the Palestinian side. And they are also cynical because the great majority of Mizrahi Jews have, since the end of the Second World War, been violently displaced from the Middle Eastern countries in which their ancestors had lived for hundreds of years, with no country other than the world’s only Jewish state willing to offer them a safe harbor.

Postcolonial apologists for terrorist organizations like Hamas and Hezbollah love to invoke Frantz Fanon’s glorification of violence. The problem is not just that their tendentious reading of his work overlooks the ways in which violence can be morally corrosive and politically destructive; it’s also that the implied analogy between the so-called pied noirs (white settlers in Algeria who could safely return to the French metropolis if they chose to do so) and Mizrahi Jews (who would be neither welcome nor safe if they were to return to Iran or Iraq, to Morocco or Algeria) is so misleading as to be perverse.

And yet, this misleading analogy governs how many on the left ascribe the role of victim and perpetrator, explaining why dozens of student groups at Harvard could claim that Israel is somehow “entirely responsible” for Hamas’ decision to murder more than 1,000 civilians. At a deeper level, they even help to explain how left-wing activists and academics can contrive to perceive a deeply authoritarian and overtly theocratic regime that is explicitly hostile to sexual minorities as a progressive movement.

According to many progressives, what determines whether a movement should count as left-wing or right-wing is based on whether it claims to be fighting on behalf of those they believe to be marginalized. Since Hamas is an organization of underprivileged “people of color” fighting against “privileged” “white” Jews, it must be seen as part of a global struggle against oppression. Even though its program—which incidentally includes the violent suppression of sexual minorities within the Gaza strip—is reminiscent of some of the world’s most brutal far-right regimes, those marching in support of Hamas consider them to be part of the global struggle for progressive values. As Judith Butler, a central figure in this intellectual tradition, said in 2006, it is “very important” to classify both Hamas and Hezbollah as “social movements that are progressive, that are on the Left, that are part of a global Left.”

It’s time for a reckoning with bad ideas on the left

Over the past few days, some observers have started to recognize how badly parts of the left have gone astray. Many leftist academics were genuinely horrified to see their friends and colleagues celebrate the murder of babies. There has been widespread outrage at the decision of influential movements like Black Lives Matter to idolize terrorists. Shri Thanedar, a U.S. Congressman, has publicly renounced his membership in the DSA.

This is a good start. In a free country, anyone must be free to express their support of extremist organizations, however vile; the move by many European governments to suppress pro-Hamas protests or to jail those who glorify the terrorist attacks is a betrayal of the liberal principles on which our opposition to that execrable organization should be based. But mainstream institutions can and absolutely should stop uncritically embracing organizations, like BLM, that openly glorify terrorists. And citizens should demand that moderate political parties, like the Democrats, cease to tolerate in their midst members of organizations, like the DSA, that equivocate about the moral permissibility of mass murder.

Black lives matter, greatly. Colonialism remains one of the greatest historical injustices. Even before this week, though, it should have become clear that the recognition of these important facts is fully compatible with serious concerns about the organizations that now speak on behalf of the Black Lives Matter movement, and about a postcolonial discourse that all too often glorifies violent resistance to anybody who, however simplistically, is judged to be an “oppressor.”

Many advocates of the identity synthesis are genuinely motivated by good intentions. But key parts of this ideology now provide cover for forms of racism and dehumanization of vulnerable groups that should be anathema to anybody who genuinely cares about the historical values of the left. It is time for the many reasonable people who have bit their tongue as these ideas took on enormous power in mainstream institutions to raise their voice against them.

The suffering to come

Any humane outlook on the world must recognize that civilians never deserve to suffer due to the group into which they were born or because of actions committed by those who claim to speak on their behalf. I feel as much empathy for the Palestinian children who are dying in bombardments of Gaza as I do for the Jewish children who were killed in Hamas’ attack on Israel. Insinuations of collective responsibility are vile, even when voiced in response to a disgusting terrorist attack. Each civilian death is a tragedy on the same moral order.

While every civilian victim is in equal measure undeserving of their tragic fate, moral philosophers have for centuries recognized a key distinction governing the conduct of war. Military action that is directed against military targets may be legitimate; while some civilian deaths are foreseeable as a consequence of such attacks, soldiers must undertake to minimize them as far as possible. By contrast, military action is always illegitimate when the killing of innocents is the goal, not an unintended side effect.

This set of standards helps to explain how spectacularly Hamas, the organization that started the current war with a long-planned surprise attack that killed over a 1,000 men and women, toddlers and grandmothers, Ashkenazim and Mizrahim, Jews and non-Jews, Israelis and Thais and Americans and Canadians and Germans and Chinese, failed to obey the most basic moral rules. Now, it should also guide our assessment of Israel’s unfolding actions in Gaza.

This is a war Israel did not choose, and it has every right to defend itself. No democracy would tolerate on its borders the presence of a terrorist organization that has just demonstrated its willingness to engage in the indiscriminate slaughter of its civilian population; it would be the height of hypocrisy for people living in the safety of Berlin or Paris, of London or New York, to expect Israelis to do so.

But the military offensive against Hamas is extremely difficult because the terrorist organization has deliberately based so much of its military infrastructure in the midst of civilian settlements; because it is now doing what it can to stop its own people from moving away from military targets; and because Egypt, worried about the potential for Hamas fighters to destabilize the government or even perpetrate terrorist attacks within its own borders, has refused safe passage for most Gazans. All of this explains why it is so hard for Israel to accomplish its legitimate goals without causing numerous civilian casualties. But it does not constitute permission for Israel to adopt the logic of collective punishment by cutting off access to food and drinking water ahead of a full-scale invasion, or absolve the country’s armed forces from doing what they can to minimize the number of civilian casualties. As and when Israel fails to do so, full-throated criticism of its government is fully justified.

The left has the potential to speak powerfully to this moment. To do so, it needs to jettison the ideological jargon that has made so many supposed idealists fall for the ever-present temptation to contrive reasons why the suffering of one side is outrageous while the suffering of the other side is glorious. To retain our moral composure in the ugly days and weeks now on the horizon, we must recover a moral universalism that, even in the darkest hour, reminds us of our shared humanity—and unhesitatingly laments the death of innocents, irrespective of the group to which they belong.

Yascha Mounk is the founder and editor-in-chief of Persuasion. His latest book is The Identity Trap: A Story of Ideas And Power In Our Time.

#Yascha Mounk #antisemitism #identity synthesis #identity politics #Israel #Palestine #hamas #islamic terrorism #islam #islamic violence #intersectionality #BLM #Black Lives Matter #decolonization #postcolonial theory #religion is a mental illness

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