#this is the worst position to be in lmfao. if i have feelings about something im the villain and a diva. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alphabetatoes · 5 months

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under the mistletoe (n. kento x reader)

summary: you're back in town for winter break, and gojo has a plan to get you with your crush: nanami kento. cue operation: under the misletoe + let the shenanigans begin. gen. info: college au, fluff, this could very well count as a crack fic, mdni please and thank u, no beta we post like men!!1!1! c.w.: slight suggestive content toward the middle of the fic, drinking games, alcohol, dub con*, some language, everyone involved is 21+, satoru gojo is a menace to society, mutual pining, maybe possibly ever so slightly ooc, why did i make it sort of angsty at the end lmfao w.c.: 2.8k (oops - this was supposed to be a drabble) *given that alcohol consumption is a part of a fic involving intimacy (even if its kissing), im playing it safe and tagging this as well.

“Did you see who’s back home for the holidays?” Gojo practically catapults himself through the door of Shoko’s apartment, eager to break the news of your arrival back home. Geto’s eyes widened slightly in excitement, shifting up from his slouched position on the couch. “Kento’s gonna be elated. He hasn’t stopped talking about her since she left.” Nanami had come to confide in the group, Gojo especially, about his qualms with your relationship. He felt like everything was one step forward, two steps back. And the worst part? It was no one’s fault but his own. Every time he saw you, he was rendered speechless. In awe that a person like you could allow themself in his presence. Utterly and unabashedly infatuated. However, when all the words he could seem to muster to you were short and curt, it made getting to know you better just a little difficult. But, of course, you were well unaware of this. “Is he actually going to talk to her?” Shoko questions, “Or is he just gonna do that brooding thing where he looks longingly from the corner of a room?” Utahime nods in agreement, but Gojo gives a smirk. “I have the perfect plan.” Gojo fills the group in on the grandiose idea he’s come up with to get the two of you to talk to each other, aptly named ‘Operation: Under the Mistletoe’. Everyone seemed to be on the same page for the plan, but Utahime raised a skeptical brow. “Just know Satoru, if this all goes to shit I’m kicking your ass.”

You feel the vibration of your phone in your back pocket, notifying you of a new text message.

gojo: holiday party at mine tmrrw night. be there or be ⃞ ↳ 🫡🫡 yessir

Once you sent your response, you pondered on how the night would go. Would Nanami be there? Would you actually get to say more than three words to him before getting too nervous and darting away? At this point, you were certain he’d pay you no mind. One too many awkward interactions to warrant anything other than a polite acknowledgement that the two of you were in the same room at the same time. Simple semantics.

You triple checked your location to make sure you didn’t accidentally drive into a gaudy Christmas postcard. The Gojo estate was breathtaking, adorned top to bottom in ribbons, lights, and greenery. Off to the left side of the house, there was a winding garden path leading to the guest house, which doubled as Satoru’s residence when he visited home for the holidays. You parked your car and made your way up to the guest house. Gojo was waiting on the porch for you, giddy at your arrival.

“You’re here!” He jogs over to you, holding out his arm so he could escort you in.

“Sure am. Hope I’m not too late?” The simple banter was something you’d grown to miss while away at school. You were all too ready to fall back into the routine of being back home.

“Never.” Gojo opens the door for you, and you make your way into the house. It was just as ornately decorated as the main house, with holiday decor at every corner. Shoko and Utahime come up to greet you, giving you a hug and divulging how much they missed you. Geto joins Gojo, wrapping his arm around the white haired boys waist, and greets you as well.

Nanami was propped up against the doorframe leading from the living room to the kitchen. It was surprising how a man so big was hell bent on making himself look small. You give him a small wave, and he nods quickly in acknowledgement.

After some small talk with the group, Gojo calls the party to order. “I mean, now that everyone’s here, we can start the game.”

“What game?” You and Nanami questioned the white haired boy in unison, causing a light blush to brush against your cheeks.

“It’s called ‘Cootie Shot’. You see the mistletoe around the house?” Gojo motions at various nooks and crannies adorned with the plant around the guest house. “If you and your partner are caught under it by a different team, you gotta kiss. Otherwise, for immunity, you have to take a shot of your choice. Cootie, shot. Cootie shot!” Gojo himself would be sticking to juice for the rest of the night after having his first shot. There were a handful of nights out drinking that were memorable to say the least. “Suguru and I are together, obviously. Shoko and Utahime are partners, and, last but certainly not least, you and Kento.”

You take the shot, feeling the gentle burn of the liquor as it goes down.

“Let the games begin!”

It took all of 20 minutes to find yourself under a bushel of mistletoe with Nanami. Ever the eager one, Gojo was first to notice. You look up at Nanami, giving him a nod. He’s tall enough to where you’re standing on your tiptoes to lean into the kiss. A simple peck is what he gives you. His arm rested against your waist, keeping the two of you steady. But maybe he gave you a small smirk once you pulled away, just for the two of you. And you could taste the liquor lingering on his lips from the first shot of the night.

The game continued on throughout the night, with Gojo and Geto in the lead. They’d managed to catch Shoko and Utahime five times already, but neither seemed to mind the shot penalty. You and Nanami caught the former pair a couple times. Gojo opted to stick to the “cootie” part of the game after the first shot though, partially under the advice of his partner but also to make sure he didn’t make a complete ass of himself. The night was still young, and there was still plenty that could happen.

Gojo put on a holiday mix of music he claimed to have ‘curated perfectly’ and to set the atmosphere for the night. As if on cue, you could hear the piano chords of an all too popular hit from the 80’s. “What’s a party without a power ballad?” Shoko and Utahime immediately jumped in and began acting out the lyrics with him. It was a performance worthy of awards. You might have even shed a tear if you didn’t look over at Kento actively trying not to laugh at the sheer intensity of the show. And his laughter was contagious, with you yourself falling victim to it. Once everyone was able to collect themselves, you all decided to decompress for a moment. Soft holiday music began to fill the room as the six of you indulged in some much needed catch-up. Feeling the pull of the music, you walk over to Nanami and place your hand out, offering him to dance. He takes it with a smile, letting his hands rest on your waist. Yours found a spot comfortably around his neck. Swaying to the beat of the music, you take note of his cologne. It’s strong but not too overbearing, smelling like spice and wood. It was perfectly Kento.

“You two sure you don’t want to call it a night early? Catch up? Catch up?” Gojo’s eyebrows nearly jump off his face with the velocity he’s raising them up and down. Your brief moment of splendor was interrupted by a rather overjoyed Satoru.

Utahime gives Geto a look of dissatisfaction. “Can’t you put him on a leash or something?”

“I would say yes, but, knowing him, he’d probably like it.” Geto remorses, rubbing the back of his scolded lover to soothe him.

“I could always tranquilize him.” Shoko deadpans. Despite her drunken stupor, it wasn’t a half bad idea.

“Cootie shot.” Shoko catches you in the middle of a conversation with Nanami. It takes you a second to register what she’s talking about, but the interruption gives you an idea.

“I mean, I was starting to get thirsty anyways.”

“Me too.” You took his hand and led him to the kitchen, taking note of just how big it was compared to yours. And warm. While your hands were typically frigid, Nanami’s provide solace.

You settle yourself on the kitchen island, letting your feet dangle off the edge. Nanami plays bartender, grabbing two shot glasses from the cupboard and setting them next to you on the island. “Pick your poison.” You ponder momentarily, but select a tried and true. “Shot of vodka.” He pours the shots and hands you one, placing his glass in the air. Your glass joins his as you toast to being caught, once again, under the mistletoe. “Cheers.” Once the subtle burn of the shot wore off, you took initiative to ask a question that had been plaguing your mind ever since you arrived. “So what made you decide to come tonight? I thought you didn’t do parties.” Nanami’s face turns serious for a moment, retreating from the relaxed demeanor he had come into during the night. “I was told you’d be here.” You’d blame the everpresent blush on your face from the liquor, but it was all too obvious what the real cause was.

“Do you want to go somewhere else? Be able to actually talk away from all…” You motion to the party and its attendees, “-this?” He takes you up on your offer, helping you get down from the counter so you could find a place more secluded. There’s a small guest room at the end of the hall connecting to the living room, near enough to not draw too much attention during your absence.

Once you shut the door, you join him on the bed. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since you left, and I missed you… and I had no fucking clue what to do about it.” He starts to ramble as you take his hands in yours, hoping to soothe his racing thoughts. You look him in the eyes, let him have your full attention. “What can I do for you now?”

“I want you so fucking badly.” And you can see it in his eyes. Everything about you has him under a trance.

“So show me.”

He held you close, but with care, like you were the most delicate thing to exist. Scared that you’d shatter into a million shiny pieces if he were too rough. And much like the first kiss, this one was soft. You could feel his heart going a million miles per hour when you rested your hands on his chest. He was holding back, scared to ruin what was going so perfectly. You deepen the kiss, moving your hands up to play with his shirt collar. Emboldened by your advances, he hooks his fingers in your belt loops to bring you as close to him as possible. He moves a hand to run through your hair, pulling gently. You give a sigh of approval into his mouth and it drives him wild.

A knock on the door breaks the two of you apart. You mouth a simple “Sorry” as Kento gets up to investigate.

‘Can I get you kids anything? Some water or a snack maybe?” Satoru calls from the other side of the door. Nanami gets up and straightens himself, throwing you an apologetic look. He opens the door and leans on the frame, daring Satoru to comment. But Gojo isn’t stupid, taking note of the new wrinkles on Nanami’s shirt collar and the disheveled state of your hair. He throws Kento a cheeky smile. “Glad to know the two of you are having fun.” Kento rolls his eyes and shuts the door. He pulls you up off the bed and into his embrace, resting his head in the space between your shoulder and neck. He whispers in your ear, soft enough so the man on the other side of the door can’t decipher. “We’d better get back out there. God knows what rumors Satoru will be starting if we stay here any longer.”

The night was winding down, and you all found yourselves gathered around the fire pit on the patio. You sat on one of Nanami’s legs, and settled into him. Nanami wrapped one arm around your waist to keep you anchored to him. HIs other arm rested plush on one of your thighs, kneading the flesh softly. The glow of the fire illuminated your surroundings, and you could just barely make out a single bushel of mistletoe tied up near one of the patio banisters. You nudged Kento, raising your brows as you looked up at the plant of topic.

Nanami picked up on your cue and gently moved the hand on your thigh up to cup your cheek.

But something felt different about it this time. Not that the others were unwanted, but there was less pressure with the kiss. An organic expression, something just for the two of you. Sickly sweet, yet everything that dreams were made of.

“Not even prompted this time.” Gojo elbows Geto, drawing his attention to the pair of you. “Guess Operation: Under the Mistletoe worked!” Geto just crosses his arms and smirks, ready to watch the mini-circus about to happen from his revelation.

“Satoru, this-“, Utahime motions at his general Gojo-ness, “is precisely why we don’t let you drink. One shot and you’re done for.”

“I can still tranquilize him.. just saying.” You might just have to take Shoko up on her offer at this point.

And as Gojo divulges into the inner workings of the ‘operation’, you can’t help but laugh to yourself. It seemed everyone was privy to the fact that you and Kento liked each other except the two people involved. You hope Nanami can see the humor in the situation. But in all honesty, he’s just relieved that you reciprocate feelings.

As the night drew to a close, you prepared yourself to make a quiet exit. Satoru and Suguru were entangled in each other and passed out on the living room couch, and Shoko was helping Utahime nurse a bottle of electrolyte solution in the kitchen. You found yourself curled up into Nanami on one of the recliners, resting your head against his chest. He played with your hair, occasionally tucking the pieces that would fall in your eyes behind your ear. If you didn’t get up now, you’d probably never leave. You tap Kento’s leg to cue your departure, and he wraps his arms around your waist to pull you back into him. “Stay here?” There was a slight whine in his voice, not wanting to have to give you up yet. But it was nearing dawn, and you were ready to recline in the comfort of your own bed. Let sober thoughts prevail tomorrow. “At least let me walk you home.” You only lived a couple blocks away, but decided to take him up on his offer to escort you home. It was still dark outside after all.

Shoko sends the two of you off with a simple salute, and motions for you to text her once you get home safely.

Snow coats the street, freshly fallen and devoid of impurities. Your footprints are the first to break the layer of snow. The walk home is quiet for a bit, only accompanied by the sound of snow breaking below your feet. Kento helps keep you steady as you wane off the last bit of a buzz you had worked up during the night. He’s also the first to break the silence. “I had a lot of fun tonight.” His voice is soft, speaking out of earnest. It was nice to see him be so organic with you, the awkwardness at the beginning of the night a mere glimpse of the past. ”Yeah, we should do it again.” You give him a quick smile and squeeze his hand. Gojo had suggested a New Year’s Eve party earlier in the night (no covert mission involved this time), so there was ample opportunity to get to see him again. Get to be with him.

The rest of the walk home returned to quiet. He stops in the middle of the sidewalk in front of your place and turns to you, making sure he has your full attention. “I really did miss you, you know.” The cold winter air only aids in the blush tinting your cheeks and the tint of your ears. You give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek, but he holds on to you for a bit. His broad frame engulfs you into his chest, not quite ready to let you go. But all good things must come to an end, and you see him off on your porch.

“I’ll see you on New Year’s Eve, Kento.”

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

Once you got inside your house, you nearly passed out on the couch, drained from the events of the night. You sent Shoko a quick text to let her know you’d made it home safe, and let yourself fall asleep.

a.n.: this was supposed to be out on christmas (oops). also me struggling not to write 'y'all' instead of you/you all- i am born and raised in texas, it's like breaking muscle memory for me ;-; also i needed this OUT of my drafts, could NOT keep looking at it

#nanami kento x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento

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gimmethatagustd · 7 months

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let me adore you | kth + pjm

Jimin can’t bear to look at himself in the mirror, but he’s all that Taehyung has eyes for.

↳ pairing: taehyung x jimin

↳ wc/date: 8k | October 2023

↳ warnings: mental illness, depression, jimin has body dysmorphic disorder, very hurtful inner thoughts, the plot is basically nonexistent it's just smut and soft feelings lmfao, anal fingering, blowjobs, unprotected anal sex, body worship

↳ notes: pls be gentle with yourself as you read this story cuz jimin is very tough on himself, and it could be uncomfortable to read if you relate to his body image struggles. this fic was a submission for the AO3 BTS Hurt/Comfort Fest

↳ masterlist / taglist

↳ what was jai listening to? adore you - harry styles

Jimin’s clothes don’t fit.

His lavender silk button-up keeps slipping off his shoulder, exposing his collarbones to the cool night air. It makes him tremble slightly, and Taehyung must notice because he pulls Jimin tighter against his chest.

“How’s it going, love?” Taehyung hooks his chin over Jimin’s shoulder and turns his head to the side when he whispers the question. His voice is raspy from talking all night, and the deepness of it warms the pit of Jimin’s stomach, even in his sour mood.

Jimin shrugs, and Taehyung lets out an amused huff at his boyfriend’s indecisiveness. His breath tickles Jimin’s neck.

“Bored?”

Taehyung smells like vodka and ginger beer from the Moscow mule he’s been nursing all night. He holds the copper mug in the hand that isn’t splayed against the lower half of Jimin’s tummy. As much as Jimin loves being in Taehyung’s embrace, the pressure of his hand is making Jimin’s skin crawl. He hates it when Taehyung touches his stomach.

“I’m not bored,” Jimin says flatly. He’s not bored, but he’s not entertained, either.

Going to Euphoria used to be the highlight of Jimin’s weekend. It’s Seoul’s most elite rooftop bar. Slipping past the bouncers guarding the glass elevator that takes patrons to the roof is possible thanks to being friends with Seokjin. Taehyung had met him through his best friend, Jungkook. It has been a little over two years since Seokjin came around, but he fit into their friend group almost immediately, even though Jimin and his friends are nowhere near as impressive as an actor. Seokjin is attractive, gregarious, and rich, but it’s his goofy personality that molds well with Taehyung and Jungkook's often childlike sense of wonder.

Taehyung brushes his lips against Jimin’s neck as he murmurs, “Tired? Wanna go home?”

The sensation makes the hairs on the nape of Jimin’s neck stand up, and the fire that seems to always burn in the pit of his stomach when Taehyung’s around flickers once again. It’s frustrating how easily Taehyung can make Jimin’s heart race, even when he isn’t in the mood for kisses and that velvety voice whispering in his ear.

Jimin does want to go home, but he knows Taehyung and their friends are having fun. The whole reason why they’re out is to celebrate Taehyung graduating from his Ph.D. program and securing a position as a therapist. It would be rude of him to force Taehyung to leave his own party. He’s being a shitty boyfriend, bringing the mood down. Taehyung shouldn’t have to check in on Jimin while he’s celebrating such an important achievement.

“Hyung, stop being so gross!” A voice cries out from Jimin’s left, and he turns to see Jungkook walking away from his conversation with Seokjin and a few people Jimin doesn’t know.

Taehyung mumbles something into Jimin’s neck before straightening his posture. He finally lets go of Jimin, leaving his place behind Jimin to instead stand next to him. Ordinarily, the loss of contact would leave Jimin feeling cold, but tonight, he’s relieved.

It makes Jimin feel awful.

“Excuse me, I didn’t realize giving my boyfriend attention was gross,” Taehyung counters with a roll of his eyes.

“The two of you are the worst about PDA!” Jungkook presses on with exaggerated exasperation. “You’re disgusting.”

“You’re disgusting,” Taehyung parrots back. He reaches out with lightning speed to pinch Jungkook’s nipple through his shirt, twisting it with his index finger and thumb hard enough to make Jungkook squeal.

“Aw, hyung, what the fuck!” Jungkook swats at Taehyung’s arm. He covers both nipples with his hands and turns to give Jimin a pout. It’s ridiculous.

“You’re both being ridiculous,” Jimin mutters. He brings his drink to his lips, a gin and Coke that Taehyung nearly spit out when he took a sip earlier.

Jimin’s response isn’t what Jungkook was looking for, so he resumes harassing Taehyung about being “too whipped for his own good”.

Normally, the playful altercation would make Jimin smile. It’s true; Taehyung is undeniably head-over-heels for Jimin, and they all know it – even before they started dating, back when Jimin and Jungkook were roommates, and Taehyung was simply “Jungkook’s best friend”. Taehyung had crushed on Jimin so hard it wasn’t a shock to anyone when he grew the courage to ask Jimin out.

Taehyung’s love for Jimin is painfully obvious. It’s in the way Taehyung watches Jimin with such soft, kind eyes like Jimin is the most precious thing he’s ever seen. It’s in the way he holds Jimin in his large hands like he’s afraid Jimin might break. It’s in the way he melts under Jimin’s touch, even after five years of dating. Their honeymoon phase never ended. Despite how annoying, frustrating, and utterly terrible Jimin is, somehow, Taehyung still loves him.

To avoid staring at Taehyung any longer, Jimin turns his attention to Jungkook. He looks good tonight, though he always does.

Jungkook is big. What he lacks in stature, he makes up for in muscle. His biceps are getting thicker, and the buttons on his shirt strain when he moves his torso a certain way. He’s been working out more.

Taehyung has gotten bigger, too. He has started going with Jungkook to the gym, mainly on the weekends, because Taehyung often offers late appointments for clients who can’t speak with him until after they’re off work.

Over time, Taehyung has filled out, muscles developing in his broad shoulders that hadn’t been prominent before. When he wraps his arm around Jimin’s waist, Jimin notices the raised veins that run along his forearm, exposed from his sleeves being rolled up.

It’s hot, but Jimin can’t enjoy his boyfriend’s developing physique.

He looks down at his body as Jungkook and Taehyung bicker, their voices mixing in with the music playing from overhead speakers.

Jimin is small.

He can see his hip bones protruding from his skin-tight black jeans. He should’ve worn looser pants, but Taehyung likes Jimin in these jeans. He’s not sure why. All they do is accentuate how frail he is.

It’s disgusting.

Jimin shifts uncomfortably in Taehyung’s embrace. He can feel Taehyung’s fingers against his ribcage. When Jimin adjusts, Taehyung’s hand slides down to hold Jimin’s hip.

Jimin’s waist is tiny enough that Taehyung can wrap his hands around him. When he inhales, he can see his ribs poking through his skin, and he knows from countless hours of staring at himself in the mirror that the knobby vertebrae of his spine are visible, too.

Jimin prayed for his “adult body” to show up for years. He figured as he got older, he’d fill in a bit. He tried working out, but he’s not confident enough to lift weights at the gym with all the gym bros watching him, waiting for him to embarrass himself. And when he does cardio, he just loses more weight.

All he wants is to be less… plain, bony, and unattractive. Not a stick, easily knocked over and bent in half. He wants to be soft and pretty. He wants hips and thighs for Taehyung to squeeze and hold onto. He wants to fill in his jeans and for his shirts to fit against a chest that isn’t so flat. No one wants to touch and kiss and fuck a skeleton.

And he really wishes he could grow taller, though that obviously isn’t in the cards for him.

He looks up at Taehyung and watches his side profile while he talks. His eyes are bright from being a bit tipsy, and he talks animatedly, swinging the hand holding his drink. Luckily, it’s nearly empty, or he’d have spilled it all over himself by now.

Taehyung is gorgeous. He’s tall, all legs, with beautiful tan skin and beauty marks that make Jimin want to kiss him all over. Even when he was a little on the skinnier side, it made sense on him. He looks like a supermodel.

Jimin can’t understand why Taehyung, someone so perfect, would want to date him. Especially when Taehyung could have anyone he wants.

One of those anyones chooses now to saunter over to where the trio are talking. Leaning against the rooftop balcony’s glass railing, Jimin watches the man with growing irritation.

“Tae! Congratulations, my friend. I’m so happy for you.”

And there’s that blinding smile so large it pushes deep dimples into the man’s cheeks. He’s just as tall as Taehyung and absolutely gorgeous, with tan skin and muscles that rival Jungkook’s. Jimin forces himself to take another sip of his drink to avoid scowling as Taehyung’s arm slips from his waist to wrap around the newcomer’s body instead.

“Namjoonie hyung, thank you!”

“I’ve got a gift for you, but it wasn’t ready yet. I’m sorry.”

Taehyung waves Namjoon’s concerns away. “Ah, hyung, you didn’t need to get me anything at all.”

“Don’t be silly, Tae,” Namjoon insists. “I’ll find a time for you to come over to my place so I can give it to you.” Namjoon brushes his shoulder against Taehyung’s. Although the force is light, it makes Taehyung take a step backward, and he bumps into Jimin.

“Sorry, love,” Taehyung apologizes with a smile that makes Jimin’s head spin.

Taehyung doesn’t look at Namjoon the way he looks at Jimin, but maybe one day he could. And why not? Namjoon fits Taehyung better. They look perfect together as Namjoon lifts his phone up to take a selfie, his cheek pressed against Taehyung’s. He and Taehyung met in college, years before Jimin moved in with Jungkook. Taehyung never said anything happened between the two of them; he always referred to Namjoon as a close friend. But he never said nothing happened, either. Just thinking about it makes Jimin’s stomach churn.

Fueled by jealousy that he doesn’t feel like addressing, Jimin’s fingers pull at the sleeve of Taehyung’s leather jacket.

“What’s up, baby?”

“Can we go home?”

Taehyung nods immediately without asking why, and warmth blooms in Jimin’s chest even as he feels like he’s going to be sick.

“I’m sorry you didn’t have fun,” Taehyung mumbles the apology while he looks down at the space between where he and Jimin sit in the backseat of the taxi. He plays with Jimin’s fingers, paying particular attention to Jimin’s pinky, which is equally endearing and annoying.

Their hands look pretty intertwined, Taehyung’s long and tan, the fingers of an artist and musician, while Jimin’s are short and stubby. It’s funny how even Taehyung’s fingers are perfect, whereas Jimin’s are just as ugly as the rest of him. Life works in mysterious ways, Jimin supposes.

“I did have fun,” Jimin lies.

He watches the city fly past them in streaks of white light and doesn’t look at Taehyung. If he does, Taehyung will know the truth. He probably already knows. It’s soulmate behavior, Seokjin would say. Jimin and Taehyung are tethered in a way no one understands. Jimin swears they’re so deeply connected that his soul aches when Taehyung is unhappy.

Taehyung swears he feels the same way, which makes Jimin feel even worse.

Time passes strangely in the middle of the night. A twenty-minute car ride to their apartment feels like an eternity, yet hardly anything has changed once Jimin and Taehyung scoot out of the backseat. The air is chillier now, though Jimin’s sensitive response to the temperature may be due to the taxi driver blasting the heat on the drive over. He also doesn’t have any body fat on him to keep him warm, a thought that further sours his mood as he follows Taehyung into the lobby, where they wait for the elevator.

Once inside, Taehyung hooks his finger through Jimin’s belt loop and pulls him forward until their fronts are pressed together.

“You don’t have to lie to me, baby,” Taehyung murmurs into Jimin’s fluffy blonde hair with a squeeze of his hips. “I know you weren’t thrilled about going out, so I appreciate that you still went with me.”

Despite his mood, Jimin melts into Taehyung’s embrace. Taehyung hugs like he’s trying to absorb the tension Jimin holds inside his body. Jimin breathes in his cologne, oak and spice, and the bite of vodka as he buries his face in Taehyung’s chest. None of the antidepressant medications lining the nightstand on Jimin’s side of the bed can give him the sense of relief a hug from Taehyung gives him, even if Taehyung’s hugs remind Jimin of how different their bodies are. Even if Jimin knows he can’t find a cure for his problems in another person. Taehyung feels good; some things are as simple as that.

The sob that shudders through Jimin’s chest is abrupt and unexpected. He knows it catches Taehyung off guard because Jimin feels him suck in a deep breath, and his arms reflexively tighten around him.

Honestly, it catches Jimin off guard, too. He cries so infrequently that Taehyung has commented on it. Something about occasional tears being psychologically good for him.

Jimin doesn’t understand how crying can ever be a good thing. Embarrassment and shame ripple through him with each sob. There is a level of helplessness that comes with crying episodes. Losing control of one’s emotions is disheartening and sometimes even scary. It’s upsetting to know that Jimin will never be okay, no matter how hard he tries.

“Oh baby,” Taehyung murmurs as he cups the back of Jimin’s head to hold him against his chest. “Will you tell me what’s wrong? Please?”

“I f-f-feel…” Jimin’s whimpers prevent him from speaking clearly, though Taehyung has always been the more patient of the two. “I’m so ugly , Tae. I hate myself.”

These aren’t words Taehyung hasn’t heard before, but he’s sincere when he asks, “What makes you say that?” Because the answer is always different, even when it’s the same.

Jimin shrugs in Taehyung’s embrace. The ding of the elevator reaching their floor punctuates his silence.

Bending slightly, Taehyung grabs the backs of Jimin’s thighs just below his butt and lifts him. Taehyung’s ability to easily carry Jimin has always been hot, though Jimin hasn’t dared to admit that out loud. Not that Taehyung has ever made him feel bad about his interests; it’s just that there are many things Jimin is too afraid to say to anyone.

Jimin quickly wraps his legs around Taehyung’s waist and hugs his broad shoulders as Taehyung carries him out of the elevator. It’s late enough that the hallway is empty, though Taehyung wouldn’t care if someone saw them like this. Jimin keeps his face buried in the crook of Taehyung’s neck so he wouldn’t know either way. It’s safe here, breathing Taehyung in with his eyes squeezed shut.

Taehyung adjusts his hold on Jimin to input their apartment passcode and kicks the door open. He doesn’t speak as he carries Jimin to their bedroom, though Jimin tunes into his steady breathing and attempts to mimic it to calm himself down.

Once in the bedroom, Taehyung gently sits Jimin down on their bed. His thumbs swipe across Jimin’s closed eyes, brushing tears from his eyelashes. It’s gentle, far gentler than Jimin has ever deserved.

“Jagiya,” Taehyung calls out to him softly.

Jimin slowly opens his eyes and does his best to meet Taehyung’s. His expression is gentle; eyes crinkled at the corners as he looks at Jimin with so much love and adoration that Jimin feels he’ll combust from the warmth.

“Which Taehyung would you like me to be tonight?”

Jimin smiles despite his bleary eyes and tear-stained cheeks. It may be an odd question to an outsider, but for Jimin, it’s everything he loves about Taehyung.

It’s a habit they’ve fallen into after five years of dating, developed after Jimin snapped at Taehyung for “psychoanalyzing” him one too many times, as a way for Taehyung to understand what Jimin needs from him in a moment of distress. Occasionally, Taehyung goes into Therapist Mode, as Jimin calls it. Therapist Taehyung can be helpful when Jimin is desperate for relief from the horrors of his mind. Still, sometimes Therapist Taehyung can make Jimin feel like he’s being poked and prodded, evaluated, and assessed, even when Taehyung doesn’t mean to come off that way.

Boyfriend Taehyung doesn’t go into Therapist Mode. Boyfriend Taehyung is gentle and understanding without being judgmental.

“I need Boyfriend Tae,” Jimin replies once he clears his throat.

“Alright, Boyfriend Tae, it is,” Taehyung confirms with a boxy smile. “Boyfriend Tae needs to shower, and he’d like you to join him. Is that okay?”

Jimin nods and takes Taehyung’s outstretched hands, allowing Taehyung to pull him up from the bed. In one sweeping motion, Taehyung lifts Jimin into his arms, carrying him bridal-style into the bathroom.

“I hate that you can manhandle me,” Jimin grumbles once Taehyung places him on the counter.

“That’s very interesting,” Taehyung remarks in a sing-song voice as he begins unbuttoning his shirt. Inch by inch, golden skin on display. “Usually when I pick you up and throw you around, you’re babbling about how much you love how str–”

“Shh!” Jimin presses his finger to his puckered lips, cheeks pink and sufficiently embarrassed. For a moment, his insecurities are forgotten, replaced by heat simmering in his stomach when Taehyung’s pretty hands begin unbuckling his belt.

He watches Taehyung’s eyes zero in on his finger and knows he isn’t looking at his mouth but instead the tattoo of a seven on the inside of his finger: July 7th, their anniversary. When Taehyung strips out of his slacks once his shirt is discarded on the floor, he reveals his matching tattoo on his thigh. They got them on their first anniversary – a decision most of Jimin’s friends warned him against. Rightfully so. Getting matching tattoos after only a year of dating seems like a risk, but Jimin knew Taehyung was his forever since their first kiss.

“You don’t have to shower with me if you don’t want to, jagiya.”

Taehyung stands between Jimin’s legs, grabbing the counter's edge on either side of his hips. While Jimin was lost in his thoughts, Taehyung finished undressing. The only thing remaining is a thin gold chain resting on his pronounced collarbones. The chain matches the dangly earring hanging from his left earlobe. Taehyung looks so pretty in dainty jewelry yet still holds onto his particular brand of elegant masculinity.

“Chim?”

Jimin blinks, forcing himself to stop thinking about how pathetic he looks next to Taehyung.

“Hmm?”

“Are you going to shower in your clothes?”

“No…”

Unable to meet Taehyung’s dark eyes, Jimin tucks his chin to his chest. While Taehyung reaches behind his neck to remove his chain, Jimin wiggles off the counter to remove his clothes. He keeps his back to the mirror, afraid to look at what he knows he’ll see there. It’s bad enough that he can watch the front of his body as he sheds his clothes, each one a protective layer, like a snake shedding its skin. But Jimin isn’t strong beneath the fabric; the more he takes off, the smaller he becomes.

“Can I help?”

Taehyung’s fingers brush against Jimin’s neck as Jimin steps out of his jeans. The touch makes him shiver. He nods, and Taehyung gently removes Jimin’s diamond stud earrings, placing both silver hoops on the counter alongside Taehyung’s chain and dangly earring.

“There you go.”

“Thank you,” Jimin whispers.

“Of course, baby.”

Stepping away, Taehyung slides the glass shower door open and sticks his hand under the running water. Jimin’s not sure how he keeps losing track of reality; he only now realizes that the shower is running. Perhaps it’s his way of stalling, of avoiding what’s about to happen.

A shower is never just a shower.

“C’mon, love.”

Showers are easier with Taehyung. Jimin gets to close his eyes and lean his head back as Taehyung’s nimble fingers massage shampoo into his hair. He doesn’t have to look at his body because Taehyung washes him with a sudsy washcloth. When it’s time to get out, Taehyung wraps Jimin in the fluffiest towel they own and whisks him away before he can catch a glimpse of his naked body in the mirror.

Jimin keeps the towel wrapped around his body while he sits on the bed and watches Taehyung. Nudity disgusts him when it’s his bare body, but he can never grow tired of the beauty of Taehyung’s naked body. Taehyung saunters around the room with confidence Jimin could only dream of. Even with his wet hair and soft cock, he looks like a god among men as he puts away their jewelry for safekeeping.

Catching Jimin’s eye through the mirror, Taehyung grins, boxy and wide.

“Were you checking out my ass, Park Jimin?”

With a roll of his eyes, Jimin tugs the towel tighter around his body. Such a ridiculous question doesn’t deserve a response.

Taehyung, however, is stubborn. Kneeling on the bed, he invades Jimin’s personal space as he leans forward, his hands resting on either side of Jimin’s thighs. He’s wearing the mischievous grin that makes Jimin’s stomach flip.

“Do you know how cute you are?” Taehyung asks, cocking his head to the side as he admires Jimin – what on him, specifically, he has no idea. “So fucking cute. I could eat you.”

Jimin shivers. He leans back as Taehyung crawls forward until he’s eventually flat on his back.

“Boyfriend Tae is turning into Menace Tae,” Jimin mumbles, unable to meet Taehyung’s eyes. They’re dark and lidded.

“Hmm.” Taehyung presses his palms into the mattress on either side of Jimin’s head, just above his shoulders.

Jimin naturally parts his legs so Taehyung can fit between them, causing the towel to hike up. When he shifts slightly, he can feel Taehyung’s cock rest against the inside of his thigh, warm and heavy – and a source of comfort, as odd as that may seem. The feeling is difficult for Jimin to explain. Having Taehyung so close that nothing separates them has always shaken Jimin to the bone. Nothing is so pure or sure of a reminder that Taehyung is here . He is alive, perfect, and present – all for Jimin to drown himself in the vanilla scent of his body wash and the fruity tartness of his shampoo. To be suffocated by such warmth would be more than Jimin deserves.

“Menace Tae would like to kiss you. Would that be okay?” Taehyung wets his lips as he waits, eyes gentle even if he does look like he wants to eat Jimin whole.

“Yes,” Jimin says with an exhale.

Gently cupping Jimin’s face, Taehyung leans down and slots their lips together. Jimin feels his stomach swoop, an exhilarating energy thrumming through him when Taehyung sighs into his mouth. Despite the drag of Taehyung’s tongue along Jimin’s bottom lip and the light nibble he gives it, the kiss is relatively chaste.

Taehyung gently runs his fingers through Jimin’s hair, tugging the ends with the slightest force needed to tilt his head to the side. The new position allows him to deepen the kiss as their mouths move together effortlessly. Taehyung’s lips are soft from the lip balm he always uses after a shower. It tastes lightly of strawberries and cream and easily makes his lips glide over Jimin’s.

Being with Taehyung is always like this: easy. Love flows from him effortlessly, and Jimin takes takes takes. They don’t part until Jimin whimpers into Taehyung’s mouth. Taehyung pulls back slightly, just enough to give them space to catch their breath – as if Jimin could possibly be anything other than dizzy in such proximity to him.

Jimin can’t remember the last time they kissed like that. He can’t remember when they last kissed at all, aside from the (usually) innocent little kisses Taehyung likes to cover him with. Rarely is it that Jimin’s cheeks, forehead, and nose escape Taehyung’s kisses. Physical intimacy was once a love language they both shared.

Eventually, Jimin became distant. And Taehyung, sweet Taehyung, never pushed him even though it meant little to no intimacy with the love of his life.

All the more reason for Taehyung to find someone new.

“I love you so much.”

Taehyung's whispers are the crackle of embers simmering in a fireplace. Jimin can taste their smokiness on his lips if he concentrates hard enough on his words and less on how scared he is that Taehyung will touch the ugly parts of him.

When Taehyung leans further back, Jimin’s startled to see a small, sad smile tugging at his mouth.

“Do you not love me anymore, Jimin?”

“W-what?” Jimin swallows around the lump forming in his throat, apprehension building inside him.

He watches with bright, glossy eyes as Taehyung reaches out to skim his fingertips along his jaw. It tickles as Taehyung starts just below his ear and glides like a ghost along the sharp edge until he reaches the curve of Jimin’s chin.

“Just tell me,” Taehyung commands softly, pressing his thumb against Jimin’s plush bottom lip. He pulls down on it slightly, forcing Jimin’s lips to part. “Please.”

The answer is so obvious Jimin wants to scream. He wants to take Taehyung by the shoulders and shake him until his pretty hair is in disarray and his cheeks are flushed. How can Taehyung not know? How can Taehyung hover over Jimin, damp hair haloing his bent head, honey gold skin glowing in the soft bedroom lighting, and think that there could be a universe in which Jimin doesn’t love him?

Tears prickle at the corners of Jimin’s eyes as he struggles to maintain eye contact. His hands shake when he presses his palms against Taehyung’s cheeks, their arms interwoven like the rest of their bodies.

“Of course, I love you,” Jimin whispers.

Taehyung hums, leaning into Jimin’s touch. “Say it again.”

“I love you,” Jimin repeats. He shouldn’t say what comes next, but he does. The confession tumbles out of him just as haphazardly as his confession in the elevator, though this one isn’t one Taehyung is familiar with. “I-I don’t deserve your love, Tae.”

Taehyung’s reaction is expected. His eyes fly open, hard and blazing, and a sharp wrinkle forms between his eyebrows.

“What did you just say?”

Jimin lets his hands fall from Taehyung’s face. He lowers his gaze and tries to turn away, but Taehyung grasps his chin to keep him in place. “I don’t deserve you.”

Tilting Jimin’s chin, Taehyung returns his thumb to Jimin’s mouth, this time pulling his bottom lip away to stop Jimin from chewing on it.

“You deserve even more than I could ever possibly give you, Park Jimin,” Taehyung murmurs.

The praise is too much for Jimin to bear. He wants to be defensive, to tell Taehyung that he’s being ridiculous. There can’t possibly be truth to what he says. He even opens his mouth to say so, but Taehyung’s lips lock with his before any self-deprecating words can come out.

It’s impossible not to fall into the trap of Taehyung’s sweet taste. All it takes is the slight pressure of Taehyung’s tongue swiping against his bottom lip for Jimin to melt completely. Parting his lips, he lets Taehyung lick at the inside of his mouth. Their tongues brush against each other before Taehyung bites Jimin’s plump bottom lip and tugs, sucking on it lightly before he finally lets go, only to dive back in to press an even more bruising kiss to Jimin’s lips. The words are unspoken, but Jimin feels them through the electricity that passes between their bodies: I love you, mine, mine, mine.

Jimin’s stomach flutters as he feels Taehyung’s hand slip beneath the fluffy folds of his towel and slide along his hip bone. His touch is cold compared to the heat of Jimin’s skin from being snuggled in the towel.

“It hurts me to hear you talk about yourself like that, jagi,” Taehyung’s voice cracks with emotion. He speaks against Jimin’s lips. “Please don’t say those things.”

Their eyes remain closed as they breathe in each other, the dizzying feeling of having Taehyung so close to him making Jimin need to hold onto something. He grips Taehyung’s biceps and relishes in the feel of the muscles flexing beneath his fingers.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin apologizes, meaning to say even more, but Taehyung hushes him because no apologies are needed. Only change – the promise to be kinder to himself. It’s something Taehyung practically begs of Jimin, and it seems like it should be so easy. Yet they’ve gone through this before.

“You are so beautiful, Chim,” Taehyung speaks into the air they breathe between them. “Not just your body, but your soul, too.”

Squirming at what feels like unearned praise, Jimin tries to scoot up the bed to get from under Taehyung. “Okay, Jesse McCartney.”

“Shut up. I’m trying to be serious here.” The biting words are paired with a lopsided grin as Taehyung stalks Jimin up the bed, his hands caging in Jimin’s head and his knees spreading Jimin’s thighs. “Let me appreciate my baby for a second, okay?”

“I would rather appreciate you,” Jimin mumbles.

“Ah, none of that. No diverting the attention away from yourself, Jimin-ssi.”

In response, Jimin lets out a shuddery breath when Taehyung traces his fingers along his inner thigh. It’s a sound that Taehyung notices because they’re both in tune with each other’s bodies. It scares Jimin sometimes, even as delicious as it is when Taehyung uses that connection to touch all the right spots to light Jimin up. Taking advantage of how Jimin’s eyes have fluttered shut, Taehyung leans down to press a kiss at the corner of his jaw and then trails them, hot and open-mouthed, down Jimin’s neck.

“I don’t want to talk about me,” Jimin finally manages to get out, his voice nearly breaking when Taehyung dips his tongue into his collarbone.

“Talking about you is my favorite thing to do,” Taehyung gently scrapes his teeth against Jimin’s clavicle in a playful bite, “aside from kissing you. Loving you. Fucking you .” Taehyung whispers those last few words, and Jimin can feel him smirk against his skin when he shivers.

“Such vulgar language,” Jimin scolds, yet he loosens his grip on his towel to let it slide off his shoulders, exposing more skin for Taehyung to plant kisses against. Heat pulls in Jimin’s gut as Taehyung sucks a hickey on his throat. He throws his head back against the bed, long, pretty neck on display.

“Not vulgar, just honest.” Taehyung presses his finger to the underside of Jimin’s chin and gently coaxes him to turn his head in the opposite direction so he can have access to the other side of his neck to devour.

A quiet moan slips from Jimin’s plump, parted lips when Taehyung’s semi-hard cock brushes against his own. At some point, the rest of his towel fell away, and Jimin realizes he forgot how powerful Taehyung’s attention is. As long as Taehyung has been kissing him, he hasn’t thought about the self-conscious embarrassment of being naked.

Taehyung rests his forehead against Jimin’s, his pretty eyes fluttering closed.

“Let me worship you, jagi,” Taehyung murmurs. “You deserve to be worshiped. I’m so sorry I haven’t done a good enough job showing you just how divine you are. ‘Cause that’s what you are, love. Divine. Heavenly.”

“It’s not your–”

“Yes, it is. It’s my job to take care of you, just as you take care of me. And you do so well, baby. You’ve been there for me, even when it’s been hard for you. I can’t begin to express how much I appreciate you. So, please, let me show you?”

Taehyung watches Jimin with an intensity that makes Jimin feel like he’s flayed, raw, and waiting to be consumed. But, rather than feel scrutinized, Jimin feels safe under Taehyung’s undivided attention.

Waiting for Jimin’s response, Taehyung sits back on his heels, knees still spread with Jimin’s thighs resting on the outside of Taehyung’s. He rubs his thumbs along Jimin’s hip bones in a swirling pattern that gives Jimin something to ground himself in.

“I love you,” is Jimin’s response, and the lopsided grin returns to Taehyung’s face. He licks his lips and runs his palms flat against Jimin’s sides, gliding upward to his chest. When his thumbs brush Jimin’s nipples, Jimin lets out a little gasp that makes Taehyung’s grin widen.

“So sensitive,” Taehyung murmurs, his voice thick with desire. He drags his hands down Jimin’s torso until they rest on his spread thighs. “Can I suck you off, jagi? Will you let me make you feel good?”

Instinctually, Jimin tenses his thighs and squeezes Taehyung’s legs. “Y-yes, please,” he whimpers.

“Always such good manners, hm, jagi? Such a well-behaved boy for me,” Taehyung praises as he lies between Jimin’s legs. He looks so pretty with his broad shoulders keeping Jimin spread open. The sight makes Jimin’s cock throb.

“Tae,” Jimin whines, hands flying up to cover his face. It’s been so long since they’ve been intimate, and Jimin has always been shy about sex. Dirty talk never fails to make his cock twitch and his cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“Hmm, baby? What was that?” Taehyung teases. He flicks his tongue against Jimin’s balls and releases an appreciative giggle when Jimin whines again.

“Stop teasing me.”

There is no denying that Taehyung has always given Jimin what he wants. It’s his weakness, his biggest character flaw. He can’t say no to the boy with fluffy blonde hair and pouty lips who looks at Taehyung with round eyes as Taehyung licks a stripe up his cock from the thick base to the wet tip.

“Anything for my soulmate,” Taehyung murmurs, his lips brushing against the head of Jimin’s cock, bottom lip sticking to the tip from the precum dribbling out. It’s beautifully sinful, filthy and loving, seeing Taehyung’s lips stretch around Jimin’s cock.

Taehyung suckles the head, massaging his tongue against the underside where the nerves are sensitive. More precum leaks from Jimin just as quickly as moans spill from his lips.

“Look at me,” Taehyung commands in a voice thick with lust. His tone makes goosebumps prickle across Jimin’s arms.

Raising up on his elbows slightly, Jimin watches as Taehyung slowly takes Jimin’s cock down his throat, his dark eyes never leaving Jimin’s. His mouth's warm, wet heat is enough to send Jimin’s head back as a loud, broken moan rips from his throat. A hard pinch to the inside of his thigh has Jimin snapping his head back up, just to see Taehyung narrow his eyes and hum as he begins to bob his head.

Look at me .

Jimin has to behave because he said he would, and Taehyung likes it when he does what he’s supposed to. So he keeps his hips flat on the bed and watches Taehyung take him all the way until his sharp, pretty nose presses against Jimin’s pelvis.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” Taehyung groans as he takes a moment to breathe. “You have the most perfect cock, jagi. So thick and pretty.” Taehyung dips his tongue into Jimin’s slit, and Jimin thinks he might cum already.

Of course, Taehyung can tell. He’s teasing him on purpose, flicking his tongue against the tip of his cock repeatedly before suckling it, swirling his tongue around the ridge of the head. It’s maddening that he won’t take more of him into his mouth again, but Jimin knows Taehyung is trying to work him up.

“Please, Tae,” Jimin tries to beg, knowing it won’t work. All he receives in response is a devilish smile as Taehyung tilts his head to pepper Jimin’s cock with open-mouthed kisses.

“Pretty cock for a pretty boy.”

“Don’t say that.”

“But you should know how pretty you are.” Pulling away from Jimin completely, Taehyung licks his lips free of precum and spit. “You’d look even prettier split open on my cock.”

“Taehyung!”

“What? It’s true, isn’t it?”

Groaning with both hands covering his face again, Jimin gently kicks Taehyung in the thigh when he kneels on the bed to reach for the bottle of lube neglected in their nightstand drawer. His hands remain on his burning face when Taehyung settles back between his legs and he hears the bottle cap open.

“Hey, Jimin-ah,” Taehyung calls out. His voice is gentle, and when Jimin peeks through his fingers, he finds a soft look has replaced the dark lustfulness of Taehyung’s eyes.

“Yes?”

Something about Jimin’s straightforward response makes Taehyung chuckle. He shakes his head, making his slightly damp dark curls sway over his forehead. “I think we’re kind of horny.”

“Stop being nasty!” Jimin tries to kick him again, but Taehyung presses his hand to the inside of Jimin’s thigh.

“I’m serious!” Taehyung insists with a laugh. “I just mean, I don’t want us to rush into this when our emotions were so high earlier. I want to make sure you are okay with this since it’s been a while, and you’ve been sad...”

It’s so sweet how Taehyung cares for Jimin. It may be unhealthy to think that there isn’t anything wrong with Taehyung, but Jimin truly believes it. Perhaps selflessness is his one red flag. Regardless, it hurts Jimin’s heart from how cared for he feels as Taehyung stares down at him with adoration that he still can’t believe he fully deserves.

One day, he thinks. One day, he’ll be convinced.

“Don’t make me say it,” Jimin complains with a pout and puppy eyes. It typically doesn’t work, but he tries it just in case.

“You must.”

“Why?”

“Consent is sexy, love.”

With a huff, Jimin spreads his thighs a bit wider and does his best to put on a brave face when he looks Taehyung directly in his eyes and says in his most polite tone, “I would like you to fuck me, please.”

“Mmm, that’s what I like to hear.” Jimin gives him another kick. “Hey! You better watch it.” Taehyung’s eyes sparkle with nothing but love, and Jimin knows that despite his insecurities, his eyes sparkle like that, too.

Taehyung was right, though. They haven’t had sex in a while due to Jimin’s insecurities, and Jimin certainly hasn’t fingered himself recently. It’s evident in how tight Jimin is as Taehyung presses a lubed finger past his rim. It isn’t uncomfortable, but Jimin tenses anyway. Too many thoughts circulate in his head. Will he be too tight? Will he make Taehyung uncomfortable? What if they can’t have sex at all? What if it hurts Jimin? What if Taehyung thinks Jimin is being too difficult and gives up on him?

“Jagi, can you relax for me?” Taehyung is gentle when he pushes a second finger in. Jimin watches him pour a little more lube to help with the slide. “You’re doing so good, just lie back, okay? Let me take care of you.”

“Okay, okay,” Jimin rushes to say, dropping back onto the bed. He holds one leg to his chest while Taehyung pushes back the other with his free hand. “Can you keep talking to me?”

“Dirty talk? Like how badly I want to fuck you? How I was thinking about it all night during the party because you looked so sexy in that outfit, wearing my favorite jeans on you that make your ass look–”

“Oh my god, Taehyung.” Jimin smiles at the ceiling when he hears Taehyung chuckle.

“Is it working?”

It is, but Jimin doesn’t want to tell him that. Besides, Taehyung already knows it’s working; he has three fingers in and is applying light pressure to Jimin’s prostate. Jimin trembles as Taehyung massages his most sensitive spot. Even though it’s slow and barely much of a caress, Taehyung’s skillful fingers work Jimin into a whimpering mess, coaxing moan after moan out of him until the room is full of Taehyung’s name and the squelch of lube. Jimin’s free hand fists the bed sheets above his head to give himself some semblance of self-control when Taehyung reaches up to circle a lubed finger around Jimin’s perky nipple.

“Your nipples are so cute,” Taehyung muses, dragging his wet finger across Jimin’s chest to swirl around the other nipple.

Jimin tries to scoff, but instead, he moans when Taehyung pinches his nipple. “N-nipples aren’t c-cute,” he stammers.

“Yours are.”

“They look, oh fuck,” Taehyung leans forward to suck one of Jimin’s nipples as he continues tweaking the other, “T-the same as, ohh god, as yours, fuck.” Distracted, Jimin doesn’t tense when Taehyung slowly thrusts four fingers inside of him.

“So you think my nipples are cute?”

“Taehyung, please, I’ll cum,” Jimin hiccups, moisture gathering at his eyelashes. Taehyung’s teasing is too much for Jimin to handle. His thighs quiver uncontrollably, and his cock leaks onto his stomach as Taehyung massages his prostate with the slightest of touches.

Having mercy on him, Taehyung slowly removes his fingers and uses the excess lube to stroke his neglected cock. It hangs thick and heavy between his legs. Jimin can’t help but admire it as Taehyung applies a bit more lube, drizzling it directly onto his cock and hissing at the temperature. There are plenty of reasons for Jimin to adore Taehyung; his cock is most certainly on that list.

When Taehyung’s hand pauses its stroking, Jimin flits his eyes up to see a slight smirk playing on Taehyung’s lips.

“First, you were checking out my ass, now you’re checking out my dick.”

“Kim Taehyung,” Jimin tries to scold, but then Taehyung is pressing the fat head of his cock against Jimin’s rim, and suddenly he can’t seem to make his mouth form words. All he can do is let it hang open as Taehyung slowly pushes forward.

“Fuck, you open up so beautifully for me, jagi.” Taehyung squeezes the back of Jimin’s thigh and adjusts the angle to open him up better. He slides into Jimin slowly, mindful of any potential discomfort, though Jimin can tell by how Taehyung clenches his jaw that he’s just as affected as Jimin.

And, fuck, is Jimin affected. His arm gives out before Taehyung is even halfway in, and Taehyung has to throw Jimin’s legs over his shoulders because Jimin can’t hold himself open anymore.

“S-sorry,” Jimin moans, scrambling to hold onto the sheets when Taehyung lifts his hips to pull him the rest of the way onto his cock. His big hands squeeze Jimin’s hips, thumbs massaging Jimin’s stomach as he slowly begins to thrust into him.

“This okay?” Taehyung reaches out to brush a few strands of hair from Jimin’s face. His pace is slow but measured, each thrust hitting deep and sharp.

“S-so good, Tae, you feel so good,” Jimin babbles, his entire body pulsing with desire as Taehyung hits his prostate with every thrust.

“You deserve to feel good,” Taehyung whispers against Jimin’s leg when he turns his head to the side to press a kiss there. “And all I want to do is make you feel good. For the rest of my life.”

“Fuck,” Jimin whimpers, blinking back tears. “Stop being so sweet. Go back to the dirty talk.”

Taehyung tosses his head back in a deep laugh that rumbles from his chest, and it makes Jimin feel good to have a partner he can cry and laugh with during sex.

Sex isn’t always so emotional with Taehyung. Sometimes, it’s sweaty and fast-paced, just skin slapping, scratches, and bruises. But tonight, Jimin has to hold himself back from crying as Taehyung whispers praises into his skin and rocks into him like it’s the only thing he wants to do.

This is the embarrassing part where Jimin starts telling Taehyung how much he loves his cock, how full he feels, how special Taehyung treats him. It does nothing to help with Taehyung’s ego, of course, for he just grins down at Jimin and caresses the side of his face, and tells him, “My cock was made for you, baby. Made to fill up your perfect little hole and make you cry my name so prettily.”

Taehyung’s thrusts are intentional; neither of them will last very long, and Taehyung knows that. He purposefully focuses on Jimin’s pleasure, fucking into him at the perfect angle. There’s something tender about how he places his right hand on Jimin’s lower stomach and presses down slightly. The pressure forces Jimin to relax his muscles while heightening the feeling of Taehyung’s cock diving deeper inside him with each snap of Taehyung’s hips. Years of being in a relationship have given Taehyung the time to learn Jimin’s body, but Taehyung’s care for Jimin makes him know his body.

Even though Jimin hates his body more often than not, he can’t deny that Taehyung treats it with so much care that sometimes he thinks he can see the beauty Taehyung sees. Taehyung makes him beautiful.

“God, you’re incredible, baby,” Taehyung says after he inhales sharply. “You take me so well, make me feel so good.” It’s hot how he looks down at where they meet as if he’s seeing them connected for the first time.

Jimin feels lightheaded as Taehyung praises him, each languid declaration of adoration and love matching the easy roll of Taehyung’s hips against his. He squeezes the bunched-up bed sheets in his fists even tighter and tilts his chin in a silent request.

Taehyung leans forward, pressing Jimin’s thighs against his chest to capture his lips in his own. They’re sloppier this time, Taehyung drawing Jimin’s tongue into his mouth and sucking it at the same smooth pace he’s fucking him.

“I’m close,” Jimin gasps, quickly letting go of the bed with one hand to reach for his cock.

“No,” Taehyung swats at Jimin’s hand, grabbing his wrist and holding it against the bed, “I’ve got you, jagi. We’ll cum today, okay? Can you do that for me, baby?” He smears the precum leaking from Jimin’s tip down the length of his cock and begins to pump his fist at the same pace as he fucks into Jimin.

“Y-y-yess, please, Tae, I can, for you,” Jimin cries, and Taehyung has to hold him against the bed to stop his hips from bucking and throwing off Taehyung’s already slipping rhythm as he fucks them toward their release.

It’s hot, letting Taehyung jerk Jimin off as he fucks him. It allows Jimin to give in to the pleasure without having to concentrate on getting himself off. He can let his brain turn to static, white noise enveloping him as he cums all over his stomach and chest with a silent cry. His mouth falls open in a perfect O-shape, and every muscle in his body constricts.

The only sound that breaks through the static is Taehyung crying out his name in the sweetest of songs as he cums inside of him.

“Fuck,” Taehyung groans, his grip on Jimin’s waist bruising as he lazily fucks his cum into him, sliding all the way out to watch the thick head of his cock push it back inside. It’s messy and wet and makes Jimin’s legs shake, but he relishes the oversensitivity because it’s been too long since he’s been brave enough to share his body.

It isn’t until Taehyung fully pulls out that Jimin begins to cry. It doesn’t help that the sweet praises and whispered promises of care from Taehyung increase tenfold when he scoops Jimin up into his arms and cuddles him, cum and all, against his chest.

“Baby…”

“This is so embarrassing,” Jimin groans, frantically wiping away the hot tears sliding sideways down his face. “I swear, I’m not upset.” And he isn’t. There’s just… pressure inside his chest, and the longer Taehyung holds him in his arms, the less pressure he feels.

“Crying is natural,” Taehyung begins, dangerously close to turning into Therapist Taehyung, but the roughness of his after-sex voice makes it hard for Jimin to pay attention to much else.

Ignoring Taehyung’s comment, Jimin nuzzles his face into the crook of his neck as Taehyung runs his hands over his back. “Why are you so perfect?”

Taehyung snorts. “Perfection doesn’t exist.”

Jimin pulls back far enough to look into Taehyung’s eyes. They’re no longer dark with lust, but the intensity of his love for Jimin will always be there.

“I thought you said I was perfect.”

“Oh, hush.” With a roll of his eyes, Taehyung crushes Jimin into his chest and swings his leg over his hip, sufficiently locking him into place. “You are the only form of perfection that exists. Is that better?”

Jimin doesn’t believe Taehyung, not entirely, not yet. But he smiles against Taehyung’s warm skin and thinks he will one day.

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

#bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #jimin angst #jimin smut #jimin fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #taehyung fanfic #taehyung angst #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #taehyung x jimin #lmay #vmin fanfic

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sugurus-fave-monkey · 7 months

Text

Drabbles.

Part two of this

TW/ CW: Smut, MDNI/ 18+, AFAB reader, masturbation, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, degradation, creampie, no condom, dubcon. Not edited, not proofread, I’m still working on writing the actual sex parts lmfao.

NSFW under the cut

“Pathetic, you’re already dripping for me.”

The words make your cunt twitch. Geto keeps his eyes locked on yours, as he slowly brings his hand to your thighs, using his nails to trace upwards towards your dripping cunt. You inhale sharply, and buck your hips against nothing.

“Tch, such a needy slut.” The condescending tone still present in his voice. “Touch yourself for me.”

You flush again, and hesitate. The whole reason you’re even in this situation is because of masturbating while thinking of him, but to really do this in front of him?

Suddenly Geto rolls you onto your stomach, and before you even have a chance to react, he sends his palm flying to your ass.

SMACK!

You let out a pained cry.

“I told you not to make me repeat myself.” Geto drawls as his face palm crashes against your ass once more.

“Mmfh fuck, m’sorry, Suguru.”

He slaps your ass once more, before turning you on your back, again. This time you comply with what he says, doing something you’d only do in private. You stick one finger inside, gathering your juices and start to slowly rub your clit up and down. You close your eyes, trying to relax a bit, and forget that the man you’ve been fantasizing about for years is making you do this.

Geto starts to slowly rub your breasts, almost massaging them, before he starts to roll your nipple between his fingers. You let out a moan, and increase the pressure you’re putting on your clit. He switches things up, by taking one of your nipples in his mouth, licking it slowly, then biting it.

“Suguru, feels s’good.” You groan.

You start to feel that familiar sensation in your core, so you increase the pace of your fingers. Geto notices that you’re about to cum and grabs your wrist, pinning it at your side. Your eyes shoot open and you’re about to protest, when he finally touches you. A long, slender finger, slowly spreads your folds, before he pushes it into you and curls it upwards. Your free hand goes to cover your mouth, but Geto pins that worst as well.

“Are you afraid someone’s going to hear you?” He asks. “If they do, too bad, that’s what you get for being such a desperate, disgusting, whore.”

Your moans come out loudly, as Geto continues to finger you, and when he adds a second finger, you’re not even sure what you’re saying as you moan. You can feel a bit of resistance inside of your cunt. You were not a virgin, but since you joined his cult, you certainly hadn’t been fucking anyone.

You feel Geto’s breath on your clit, and he starts to lick your clit slowly, he’s let your wrists go, and you grab fistfuls of his hair, and your hips buck upwards to get just a bit more pressure. You look down at him, and oh the sight. He’s let his hair down and it hangs over his shoulders, one piece falling over his eye. He’s looking up at you, with his mouth suction cupped over your clit. He sucks on your nub, and that’s all it takes. Your orgasm rushes through your body, Geto doesn’t let up on your clit, pulling more and more pleasure from you. Your thighs squeeze around his head, you feel like you may pass out.

“Oh fuck! Suguru fuck you’re so good, fuck!” Your moans turn to babbles, and your orgasm intensifies until you’ve covered Geto’s face in your juices.

When he pulls away, he gets on top of you, positioning his dick at your entrance. He slowly pushes his head in and you don’t know if you can take him. He’s already stretching you out, and he’s barely even inside you. He pushes in a bit more, and you feel like you’re being torn in half. Tears well in your eyes.

“C-can’t take it.” You manage to squeak out.

Geto wraps his fingers around your throat, slightly choking you, before bottoming out. Pleasure and pain overwhelm you, and you see stars. He sets a slow pace, and the pain fades away, being replaced by solely pleasure. He lets go of your throat before, his lips envelop yours. The kiss is needy, passionate. His tongue shoving into your mouth, you suck on his tongue, earning you a moan in response. He bites on your lower lip and sucks on it before pulling away and focusing on fucking you.

You’re almost entranced by the scene before you. Geto’s chest has a sheen of sweat on it, and he’s watching himself fuck in and out of you. His features seem to be relaxed, and a blush is present on his cheeks.

He increases his pace, and starts toying with your clit again, and it’s not long before he’s ripping another orgasm from you, and you’re raking your nails down his chest, and screaming his name. Once your orgasm has subsided he slowly pulls out.

“Get on your knees and stick your ass up.” Geto instructs, and you do as he says.

He pushes into you again, and this time it’s pure pleasure. He thrusts into you, harder than before, and he pushes your head down into the mattress. This time he’s fucking you solely for his own pleasure. He rakes his nails down your back, drawing blood, and you groan in pleasure.

“F-fuck, that’s a good girl, being a perfect little fuck toy f’me.” Geto gasps. “ Y’gonna be my fuck toy from now on?”

“Y-yes! Use me like a toy Suguru, I want to be yours to do with as you please.”

Your words are all it takes to push him to his limits, and he fucks up into you, painting your walls with his thick cum. He pulls out quickly, and a mix of your juices comes out.

Geto grabs you by the hair, and shoves your face into the pile of fluids.

“Filthy monkey, clean up your mess.” He commands.

As you lick up the mess, you hear clothes rustling.

“Stay here until I come back. Looks like you have a new role to play.” Geto says to you, before grabbing your clothes, and walking out the door. You hear a click, as the door locks, and a smile slowly spreads on your face.

#geto smut #geto suguru #geto x reader #jjk geto #jjk smut #getou suguru x reader #jjk x reader #geto x you

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analogwriting · 3 months

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Star-Crossed

Chapter 6: Sydän

Donquixote Rosinante x gn!reader word count: 2k a/n: snurprise you're getting two bc i made it too girthy lmfao. pulcino = chick (as in baby chicken), cucciolo = cub, angelo = angel next

To say that the air shifted was a massive understatement. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife and you just knew the receptionists were holding their breath as they watched.

You could feel Corazon’s eyes on you as you walked over to your father and he greeted you with a kiss on both cheeks accompanied by a tight hug. “Oh, my child. I have missed you.” His voice was warm as he smiled at you.

“I missed you too. Let’s go talk in my office, yeah?” You turned, leading your dad down the hallway. You refused to look at Corazon. You could feel the emotions radiating off of him and not a single one of them was positive. There was confusion, betrayal, anger, just about everything there. The feeling of guilt began to wash over you. Maybe you should’ve been honest from the beginning? Told him who you were? Too late now.

Marco was standing in the hallway, staring with wide eyes. He looked as white as a sheet and you knew why. This was one of the worst possible outcomes that could’ve happened.

“Marco, my boy!” Your father greeted him with a large smile. “How’s your pops? Are you keeping him out of trouble?” He greeted the man the same way he greeted you. After all, he was your best friend and basically your brother at this point. He knew your dad and his father was your father’s best friend. Marco was family as far as he was concerned.

Marco gave a sheepish laugh, hugging him back. “Oh, you know. He’s just like he always is. Stubborn and overbearing sometimes.” He cast you a nervous glance and you shook your head. You had no idea what to do right now. You had no idea how you were going to explain this. Corazon was definitely going to hate you after this. Hell, you didn’t even know why your father was here.

Continuing back on to your office, you closed the door after your father and the two accompanying him. “What the hell are you thinking?” You looked at your father with a look of bewilderment, your eyes wide and wild.

“What? Can I not visit my own child at their place of work?”

“No! You know that! And you know why you can’t either!” You covered your face with your hands, groaning loudly before plopping in your chair behind your desk. You sat there for a moment before looking at your father. “What was so important that you had to come to me unannounced?” You were irritated. You didn’t enjoy being thrown wrenches in your perfectly oiled machines. It threw off your entire day.

“I just wanted to see you, pulcino.” He frowned, looking genuinely hurt. You let out a long sigh, feeling bad. You didn’t mean to snap at him, but everything was just happening all at once. “I know it’s been a while since I’ve seen you, papi, but you can’t just spring in on me like this. You know how sensitive the general atmosphere of the hospital is. This is a neutral ground so someone like you here with the fact that you’re my father, is going to make people talk. Some people will grow suspicious.”

“But not many people even know you’re my child. I hardly showed you to the world. You killed the few that saw you the one night I tried to put you on the field. You even took Edward Newgate’s name when you left the family to help hide the fact we’re related.” He frowned deeply. You knew that he hated that fact. It was something he understood, but it didn’t mean he was happy with it.

You let out another sigh. “I know, I know. I’m sorry, papi. I’m not ashamed of being your child, I just didn’t want people to be scared to receive care here.” You shook your head, smiling. “I am happy to see you. Just…shocked is all.”

“And bad timing?” He folded his arms, narrowing his eyes at you. You cocked an eyebrow at his sudden change of demeanor.

“What is the missing Donquixote doing here in your hospital?”

You blinked, thinking for a moment. You shook your head. “Just the same as everyone else. Either know someone here or getting treatment.”

“He sure didn’t look like that. He seemed very comfortable with you.”

“Well, his son does work here.”

“Oh? I didn’t know he had one.”

“Yeah, apparently. His son is one of my interns. Smart kid. I’m assuming that’s why he went ‘missing.’ It’s not like Doflamingo is as kind as you are. He probably wasn’t going to just let him leave that easily.”

“Does Doflamingo know he’s back?”

You shrugged, shaking your head. “I have no idea. We’ve never talked about the past or anything like that.”

“But…he was going to ask you out? Without knowing about you? Or you him?”

You nearly choked on your own spit - on air. Your eyes felt like they were going to fall out of your skull with how wide they went. “What are you talking about?” Your father just looked at you with an unamused expression. “Oh, I thought it was obvious.” He looked at the two men with him. “Was it not obvious?”

“It was kind of obvious, boss,” they said in confirmation.

You just stared at him for a long moment, your brain running a million miles an hour. “Huh?” Your brain wasn’t computing. “Oh. Oh. You’re rebooting. I’ll give you a minute.” Your father watched as your brain tried to process what he was telling you. After all, he was your dad. He knew your mannerisms, even if he wasn’t around you all the time. You had always been like this.

Corazon was going to ask you out? Why? That didn’t make any sense. Well, you knew Law and Marco seemed to be trying to play matchmaker, but you didn’t think Corazon was actually interested. Though, you supposed he kind of had to be if Law was trying to set the two of you up. Fuck, this was all too much right now.

Then you snapped back into it.

“Wait, is that why you interrupted when you did?”

Your father nodded, moving on as if your hard reboot was the most normal thing in the world. Which, to him, it was. “Yes. I knew that if I didn’t interrupt when I did, I wouldn’t have a chance to talk to you. It would be way too awkward after.”

You nodded slowly, still processing but you shook your head. “I’m too busy for all that anyway. Besides, now that he knows who I am, he will lose all interest, yeah?”

Your father frowned, waving a hand. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. You never know what Fate has up her sleeve.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “Between you, Marco, and pops, Fate is all I hear about.” That caused your father to laugh. “Ed was always a sucker for cliched things like Fate.” He shook his head.

The both of you just grinned at each other. A somber silence fell over the room. That was something you always appreciated about your father. Sometimes, it was okay to just sit in silence with him. It was never awkward. Then you finally spoke up. “What is this really about, papi?”

Your father looked at you for a long time before sighing. “Well, I suppose this is one last time I wanted to ask you what you truly wanted. Do you want to stay in this neutral environment you created? Or did you want to come back?”

You blinked. This was something you weren’t expecting. Why now? Of all times, why now? He only asked once before, but that was years ago. Ever since you had left, he respected your decision. Why was he questioning it now?

You just nodded. “Yes. This is what I want. This hospital is everything I wanted.” You let out a small chuckle. “A place of solace in this toxic land of sin or what have you. A safe haven for everyone. An out for those who need it.” You were talking about more of your underground side of things. It was something you were very proud of.

“I love you, papi. You know that I do, but that violent lifestyle isn’t for me. It’s just too much.” You shook your head and sighed. You wanted to help, not hurt.

“You’re just like her, you know.” You looked up, seeing a fond, pained expression on your father’s face. “You’re just like your mother. She didn’t like this lifestyle either. She just wanted to help everyone like you did.” He let out a hollow chuckle. “You inherited my skills, but your mother’s personality.”

Your own, sad smile spread across your face. You were young when your mother passed, but you had plenty of fond memories to look back on. They were painful, bittersweet. The both of you loved your mother. She was the light in your life. She taught you many things that you still held in your heart. She was the one who brought warmth to your father’s cold teachings. They had been a good balance at the time.

“Anywho.” Your father sniffled, shaking his head. Talking about your mother never lasted long or ended with tears. Neither of you liked crying, so the conversations about her were always short lived.

“I just wanted to ask. Before I start looking and training for another successor, you know?”

You nodded, understanding. You knew that since you weren’t taking over the family, someone had to. Even if your father died before he had one set in place, it’s not like the family would fall apart. Eventually someone would rise up to the position, but this was the most surefire way to make sure things run smoothly. Easy transitions and all.

Your father stood up with a groan. “Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I also just wanted to see how things were going here.” He smiled at you warmly, pride showing on his face. “I’m really proud of everything you’ve done. You did it all on your own and that’s no easy feat. No one messes with you and you can hold your own if you try. You’ve got a pristine reputation.”

Your own heart swelled with pride. You stood up, going over to hug your father tightly. “Thank you, papi. It means a lot.” You felt like crying, but you held it in right now. You’d probably break down later over noodles or when you talked to Marco. “ Keep up the good work, tresorino.” You nodded, kissing his cheek before pulling away.

“I will. Stay safe and good luck finding a successor.” You smiled widely at him.

You walked your father to the entrance once more. There was no sign of Corazon. You weren’t surprised. You knew he wasn’t going to stick around. Honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if you never saw him again. Part of you hurt because of that. You found yourself enjoying being around him. He always made you laugh and felt like you didn’t have the weight of the world crashing down on your shoulders.

The other part of you knew this was for the best. You both were from the same world, but from opposite sides. You still had one foot in the door as well. You were in contact with your father, you ran your underground hospital. He completely cut off all ties. Hell, his brother wasn’t even sure if he was alive last you knew.

“Don’t stress about things too much, angelo.” Your thoughts stopped as your father spoke, ruffling your hair. Something he always did when he saw you were thinking a little too much. You were standing by the entrance now. “Things will work out if they’re meant to, yeah?” You nodded with a small sigh. “Yeah, yeah. Fate and all that.” You rolled your eyes, fighting a smile. “Love you, cucciolo.”

“Love you too, papi.” Your father pressed a kiss to your forehead before finally leaving with his cronies. You waved as he left, reality suddenly hitting you. Ah, fuck. You were really in it now. Where the hell was Marco?

#again i googled terms of endearment for italians dont hate me if the translation is wrong #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #donquixote rosinante x reader #donquixote rosinante #donquixote corazon #rosinante corazon #corazon x reader #corazon #rosinante x reader #rosinante #am fics #sc

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cowboylikeclay · 9 months

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morning haze | matty healy x gn!reader

warnings: smut, morning sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it!), language

a/n: this might seem out of pocket (esp for someone who hasn't posted in months) but i was tried of only finding matty x f!reader shit so here i am LMFAO i still wanted female aligning readers to enjoy this so hopefully gender neutral is good! also elinore....don't be mad at me (also pictures aren't mine!)

the story will continue once you click "keep reading"

Matty always wanted to savour every miniscule moment with you. The way you felt. The way you both moaned at a single thrust. The way you would wrap round his throbbing cock. Everything, and I mean everything, he wanted to remember. That's why he never did quickies (unless on tour) or morning sex. His brain would be to foggy and if he came too fast, he would feel embarrassed. You didn't blame him. In fact, you felt the same way.

Most days started out the same. You both would take turns showering and do your respective skincare routines. He would always wake up first, you would follow a solid 5 to 30 minutes later. But this time, you woke up first. You turn over to check the clock, it's 6:42am. Jesus Christ, you think. You've never been up this early. You turn back over to see a half awake Matty fighting the warm embrace of the sheets clung to his half naked body. You feel the wave of lust wash over you. It's too early. He would never say yes. At least not this early.

You turn over and fall back asleep. About an hour later, you wake up to the bathroom light illuminate the rooms. Matty, still shirtless, starts brushing his teeth as you feel the same wave from the hour before consume you. God how much you wanted him to slid his throbbing hard cock inside of you. It wasn't a want, it was a fucking need. You tried to shake the feeling off but it wouldn't go away. You finally decided to cave in and ask. What's the worst that could happen.

You walk up to the bathroom and hug your handsome boyfriend from behind. You weren't over how pretty he could be. He was fucking gorgeous and he's all yours. "Mornin' babe." he mumbles with toothpaste still fresh in his mouth. "Morning" you respond back. You feel so embarrassed asking for him to fuck you, at this point you were debating on just forgetting about it and masturbate when he was having breakfast with the boys a few hours later after saying just one word to the man. He spits out the toothpaste and scans your body language. "Why so nervous, darling?". "Nothing" you stumble out. "It is something. Come on", he touches your arm, "Tell me, love." You check him out before doing something you thought you would never do. Make the first move.

You push his lips into yours as you begin to caress his freshly shampoo-and-conditioned hair. At first, he was shocked but he grew to like you in control. You thought he would push you away yet, that never happened. He runs in fingers through your hair as you start to position yourself for him. You touch his hardening cock. Feeling his head throb in your hand as he whimpers for you. "Baby, I really fucking need to be inside you". "I thought you didn't like fucking in the morning". "I guess I lied" he moans out.

"Fuck, stop teasing me." he says as he pulls down his pajama bottoms and boxers. "Fine." you say with a lust filled smile. You prop yourself back on the bathroom sink as you pump his cock with your hand. This is all you wanted. If sex was an art, this is your guy's magnum opus. "Please, love. Let me in." he begs. You nod and literally the next millisecond he thrusts himself inside of you. You both moaned at the initial thrust. He felt so good around you. Your tight hole pleasuring him just right.

You pull his hair, and by proxy, his head back as he continues to fastly make you love him even more. His large cock beating inside of you as your heads glisten in sweat. "Fuck, this position is uncomfortable" you somehow get to say in-between moans. "Well then, why don't we move". He picks you up and takes you from the bathroom to the bedroom with his cock still inside of you. He drops you onto the bed and lifts your legs. He stops himself before telling you to get on your knees. You gladly do so before Matty grabbing your hair and pulling you into his cock. He yanks your hair up and down while you circle your tongue around his cut cock.

Your worshipping everything about this man, his body, his cock, his personality, his pubes, his music, everything about him just with a flick of your tongue. You use one of your hands to play with yourself but you feel yourself climax. "Baby, baby, i'm about to come" you say between tugs of your hair. "I am too, darling.", he whimpers, "Get on the bed and open your legs for me, angel". You do as he says and the moment your legs are up he's back inside you.

You knew it would take less than 5 minutes for the both of you to come. But those 5 minutes were about to fucking count. He bucks his hips as you both moan in perfect synchronization. "Oh fuck Matty, i'm gonna come". "Me too, me too. Fuck, fuck, fuck". He puts his hands on the back of his head as he continues to thrust inside you.

"Ok baby, on three?" he says. You nood as he begin counting down. "One...". You swallow. "Two...". "Three! Oh fuck, babe. Yes, oh fuck, darling" he whimpers. "Yes, babe. Thank you" you moan. "No, thank you" he says as he falls on the bed next to you.

#matty healy #the 1975 #smut #matty healy x reader #i never see enough male/gn reader stories so 🫶#matty x reader #the 1975 smut #male reader #gn reader #lgbtqia

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potentialguybodyswaps · 1 year

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I think tumblr deleted one of my stories, so I’ll post it again lmfao

Swap Class part 1:

America is going straight to hell, every aspect of society has gone to pleasing the Pansy ass democrats

Like they added this new sub course to Sociology, called swap class, where the goal was to allow you to experience life though other people’s eyes, so you could have empathy for those not as privileged…

Kinda vague if you ask me, but as the captain of the basket ball team, I’m just tryin to take easy classes, which I’m told sociology was, until they decided to add it to the course shortly after picking up the class

I walked into class that day and we had a different professor than usual, some chick.

I took my seat next to some fag, he was Hispanic and kinda built like a twink. I actually remembered him tho cause he was one of the kids I bullied here

She was going over the rules of class, but to me it was just another monologue that I didn’t care for. eventually she finally did some shit that caught my attention.

the professor wheeled out some machine and told us “this right here, is where the magic happens, the heart of swap class”

One student yelled out “what is it” to which the professor said “it’s the body swap machine that you all will be doing your projects on”

For this first time in this class I was absolutely baffled “Bodyswap? Project? What’s the project about” i yelled

“ yes so the project is each and every one of you will get the GREAT Opportunity to swap bodies with a classmate for a month, and you’ll have to right a 10 page essay about their lives and how it differs from your own, any questions?” She said looking over the class

Another student then called out “yes, do we get to pick who we swap with?”

The professor smiled and said “No, if you look down at your seat, you’ll see there all labeled, so whoever is in seat one will swap with 2, whoever is in seat 3 will swap into seat 4… any other questions”

“Yes what if we don’t wanna stay swapped for the whole month?” I asked

“Well I suppose you’d get an F, if you don’t care about your GPA, and flunking the first semester, that’s fine I suppose, ok enough questions, everyone look at your seat and figure out who your partner will be. Once done start lining up”

Man, I couldn’t fail this class, if I fail any of my classes my position on the team is in jeopardy… I looked down at my seat, and saw the number 44

“Oh no” I thought to myself as I herd calls chuckle as I looked down and saw the number 44

I looked at his desk and saw the number 45.

“Fuck bro, I guess we’re swapping bodies for the next month” i said looking him up and down. “Try not to do any dorky shit in my body ok? I don’t want people starting to think I’m a loser”

“Aye aye captain” Carlos said with a weird ass smile

“Like that shit bro, don’t ever say that shit again” i said scowling as i got up to get in line

Carlos followed me and got in line, after all the swaps were done there were only a couple minutes left of class since each pair of people took about a minute to swap

“Now before you all go about your new lives for the month, don’t forget to follow the rules, if any of you do something to mess with the other’s life while your inhabiting it, they have the option of not swapping back and keeping your life if they want” the professor said as the bell ring

On my way to Carlos’s next class I couldn’t help but feel how weird my junk felt

I tried rearranging it, but it wouldn’t go down ether of my pants leg. “he must be too small to fit it down a pants leg” I said to myself laughing as I used an arm to feel the rest of my chest

“Dam Carlos sure is boney, I can feel he has has abs but it’s not like he works out type of abs, more like he doesn’t eat food type of abs”

I knew Carlos was a 2nd generation Mexican, but his English was pretty good. That didn’t stop me from making fun of him tho for being from a poor immigrant family

I think the worst part of this all is how the bully has become the bullied, I knew the other assholes in school were probably gonna make a target of me, so I decided to minimize that as much as possible

I went to the typical hang out spot for the the basketball team and saw there were only 2 guys

Zeke, and Caleb, they weren’t my favorite people on the team but I knew they would protect me

I walked up to them and they seemed pretty hostile “aye fucktard, get out of here, we’re waiting on other members of the team to show up so we can hang out”

I tried to explain to them what happened in swap class but they didn’t seem to believe me

“Oh ya? If your really Ryan, pull your pants down and show us this kids dick, we all know it’s gotta be small compared to your actual dick ” one of them said

For some reason being told what to do was kinda a turn on and I immediately got hard…

I laughed and told them “I personally haven’t checked it out for myself but your definitely right haha”

I pulled my pants down to show them, underwear still up, and I guess that was enough for them, since I was already hard they could tell that I was no where near as big as my original body haha

They started laughing at me when I pulled my pants down and took a photo.

“Ya I’m probs like 5 inches haha, i don’t know” I said laughing with them

“Why are you laughing Carlos?” One of them said seriously

“W-what’s the issue” I started to say before getting cut off

“Get on your knees dude” they said again while unbuckling their jeans. i don’t know what it is, but for some reason in Carlos’s body, I found it hot and wanted to obey when I was given commands

I got on my knees and they both pulled out their cocks in my face

“Suck” Caleb said to me

I opened my mouth and took Caleb’s dick in first, trying not to gag, he wasn’t the biggest on the team by far, that was me, at 9 inches, but Caleb was pretty big too, at 7 inches, he was bigger than zeke

Zeke had his phone out the whole time I was sucking Caleb’s dick, I decided it sucked to be the bitch of the group and put all my effort into sucking Caleb and Zeke off, I started focusing on mainly the head and got Caleb to cum in under 10 minutes, dispute him using his hands to push me further down onto his cock, so I wasn’t able to focus as much as I wanted on the tip…

After I got Caleb to cum, he pulled out and Zeke stuck it in my mouth as he handed Caleb the phone

“Ya you like sucking the teams dick don’t you!?” He said to me while I sucked him off

“Answer me when I’m talking to you” Zeke said pulling his dick out

This whole situation sucked so I was just trying to get it over with as fast as possible

“Yes zeke” I said as I inched closer to put his dick back in my mouth

“That’s fine, there’s plenty of people on the team, we kinda need a cock sucker to keep us all happy, who knows maybe you’ll get a spot on the team” he said laughing

“I don’t think that’s necessary” I mumbled

“Oh yay and why is ThATTTT” Zeke said as he cummed into my mouth

The taste was just as salty as Caleb, but I told him “cause like always, I’m too good for y’all”

“Psh whatever that means fag, now get out of here and don’t talk to us again” they said as Caleb handed Zeke his phone back and put it in his pocket

I headed back to Carlos’s dorm and went to bed early that night, sadden that some of my own best friends didn’t believe me, and forced me to suck their dick just for trying to talk to them…

I woke up the next day and took a look in the mirror, I couldn’t believe that I was actually Carlos, I always seem to be hard, but it’s not hard to hide when I’m this small haha

I won’t lie, his face is kinda cute, if he was more muscular and had a bigger cock, I just might be fine with staying this way. But bro is a absolute twink, though and though, which isn’t what I want to be so, I can’t wait till the end of the month and get my body back

I got dressed for the day and made my way to Carlos’s classes, I proceeded to just go home each night and try to sleep as early as possible

Less time I’m awake, the less times it feels like I’m stuck as this fag

I would text Carlos every now and again asking him how things were going, was he going to practice? To which he typically just responded ya “fine” “good” or “yay”

I do take that back tho, I wouldn’t always go to bed right away, Carlos was in the band, and so I would try to play his instrument and practice, I didn’t really know what I was doing but as I looked at the sheet music while I played, I just somehow knew where to put my fingers to make music.

Eventually when the time came for the next basketball game (which was a week after we swapped)

I got on the bus to travel with the band, but since it was such a small band, Carlos in my body, and the rest of the team was also on the bus.

After the band got on, Carlos was one of the first people from the team on the bus, and made way towards me, picking a seat across from me

Eventually I started falling asleep on the long ass ride to our game, the bus was full of chit chat about the game, but it was just white noise to me

Eventually I was woke up to Carlos smacking one of my arms

I opened my eyes and looked over with complete horror written on my face.

I saw Carlos with his shorts and underwear pulled down, with our team hat placed over his junk

“What are you doing bro, you know the rules of the swap, don’t do that in my body” i said trying to hide a look of desperation on my face.

Carlos smirked and stood up, still covering my junk from the public, and did a loud whistle that got everyone’s attention

“As team captain I just wanted to say, no matter what happens tonight, we all know we’re the better team and they all can just suck my dick if they think other wise” he said smiling as he pulled the cap away exposing his, or should I say my big dick to the team and band”

The crowd started applauding and he sat back down pulling his shorts back up

Whole time i was just staring at him in disbelief, “bro what the fuck, why did you do that? Are you trying to keep my body? I mean all you did is let everyone know how big my cock is, probs the biggest here, that’s not exactly damaging my rep haha, I’ll still take my body back at the end of this… you’ll have to try harder, if that’s what your trying to do” I said regaining a bit of my confidence

Carlos made direct eye contact with me and smirked as he leaned in closer to me

“Ya but you see, after a shirtless pic of me with my pants down, leaked, and you sucking off some of your supposed friends on the team, my reputation is trashed. the professor already knows too” he said as the smile on my formal face grew bigger, as I finally realized where he was going with this

“No” I started but got cut off before I could finish.

“With that said, she says I don’t have to do the essay… and I get to keep your body if I want, which I mean who wouldn’t wanna be the big dicked basketball captain, fucking his girlfriend every other night. Oh which she says has been way better recently… your girl likes me fucking her better, than when you were haha! So ya bro, I think ima keep your body, and your not getting it back, so feel free to keep sucking the teams dick, I can be next if you want” Carlos said grabbing my formal junk though his shorts

I wrapped my arms around my head and just sunk into my seat

“Wtf bro this isn’t fair” I mumbled

“What’s not fair is you being a bully and thinking you can get away with whatever you want” he said jokingly hitting me in his head a bit

“Use your head Mcfly, hello? Anyone home?” he said doing his best impression of biff from back to the future

#body swap #bodyswap #male body swap #mtm #permanent

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yourdyingwish · 8 months

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REALLY trying not to get involved with this because I love being the Ignorer but I feel like anyone who thinks that the LS Dunes guys are "dying on the wrong hill" or "doubling down on unethical art" really needs to look at the situation objectively from their POV...they've had an extremely positive community from the moment they formed, they posted a video people didn't like, and immediately got what to them probably looked like an incredibly bad faith reaction from people who were way angrier about this than the situation warranted (which to be fair. Is what happened.) And it became SO personal so quickly, for no real reason. The level of betrayal people were expressing absolutely did not match the situation itself and to them an unreasonable fan and a reasonable fan look all the same...it's just a flood of comments. I just feel like even though people have a right to be bummed out by an artist they like using unsavory technology for a video the moment people started sending the members SUICIDE BAIT over it their choice to treat the entire situation like it was a completely bad faith reaction and is just people being hateful was justified. There's just no way a reasonable message is cutting through after all that bullshit. It's extremely weird to treat "using AI in a video" the way you'd treat someone being called out for racism or sexual assault and that is totally what's happening. The exact same tactics designed to protect communities and immediately out abusive people are being used for something which worst case scenario is kind of lame and a bad look. The number of people trying to "educate" them is probably not helping either...like I'd be doubling down too in that situation lmfao

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chekhovs-nailgun · 2 months

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i have some thoughts on coping thru fiction and using fic/writing as a general tool that i wanna put out there. warning: i will be discussing grooming below the cut.

so to get it out of the way, i was groomed when i was 11. i don’t think this is the time nor place for me to go into a whole ramble about the specifics of that, so i won’t. all that’s necessary right now is that it happened and within a year i started adding similar dynamics to a project i was working on.

it was a sideplot during my first nanowrimo attempt centered around a post-apocalyptic scenario. the jist of it was a kid in his mid-teens, think 16 or so, was romantically obsessed with a mid-20s, closer to 30 woman. the age difference was about the same. i would ask for advice on the story in general from my mom (phd in psychology, literally never had a problem with it lmfao, funny how that works).

was it ass? absolutely, it was. a 12 year old wrote it. it’s never seeing the light of day lmao. but it was really important in the process of me not fucking hating myself for years for thinking/internalizing that it was a moral failing on my part.

the thing about it is that at the time, it didn’t feel like coping. i felt like i was just writing about something that happens. fleshing it out in that sterile environment helped me get a grip of how fucking gross what happened to me was, while putting myself in a position where i had control over what happened, something i didn’t have irl. i didn’t even realize that’s what happened until i thought “ah yes, i started writing dark fic when i was 12, the same calendar year i was groomed.”

“…”

now i look at people arguing over the semantics of it, with fic of that type being morally reprehensible with exceptions like “only if you never share it” or “only if you use it to cope” or “using it to cope is morally reprehensible for this-or-that reason, don’t interact with it in any way other than seething rage or some other specific way”. while seething rage and pure fucking anger can be a totally fine way to deal with it, people who think in these kinds of ways need to remember: not everybody is you. making broad assumptions, nitpicking, and believing that your way is the only correct way does nothing but harm other victims by taking away an opportunity for them to work out their trauma, at best. at worst? it allows more predators to hide and commit tangible harm due to widespread assumptions that the people hurting others are the people posting fic, and not the “safe” adults playing into kids’ interests and making them feel important and special. (source: that’s what mine did; yucky bad fanfiction was never a part of the equation.)

i know what the response to this is. “ackshully posting it is doing harm because it normalizes it and gives predators the confidence to act on the thoughts they already have; the human psyche is more sensitive to porn and if you get tired of fiction you’re bound to turn to nonfiction”. this is where the age old disagreement comes into play, and while i don’t see much of a point in rehashing it for people who already have their minds made up on it, i would like to note a couple of things, firstly that humans aren’t mirrors. most people see things like this and recognize it’s wrong, just like they recognize that other subjects criminalized irl are wrong, such as murder, theft, etc. if somebody sees something problematic and decides it’s a good way to act, there was something already wrong, be it undiagnosed mental illness or being too young/impressionable to participate safely in such circles. i also find this viewpoint really cruel in that it takes responsibility away from the actual predators, essentially painting them as wild animals who “couldn’t help it, they became desensitized and just had to have more of that vile content you people make” when grooming is, at its core, a desire for power over another. im gonna come out and say it: predators are smart. they are called predators for a reason. thinking of them as lawless beasts who operate out of instinct is entirely disrespectful to victims.

the cold hard truth of the matter is that darkfic, no matter how disgusting people find it on a case by case basis, is morally neutral. it cannot damage anybody by simply existing unless warnings are ignored or it is actively weaponized, sometimes meaning that the content itself is removed from the protective warnings and wantonly put on display for large audiences of underage people to see.

i personally don’t like a whole lot of darkfic, im really picky about what i read. and i think that no matter my thoughts on it, it has a right to exist. idc, consider me a “bad victim” lmao. if you do that’s your cross to bear, not mine.

tldr: sometimes you need to express shit and fuck you if you try to enforce your own feelings on others trying to do so

#ok to rb #tw grooming mention #chekhov’s cathedral #shipcourse #proship #anti anti #proship please interact

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kellyscowboy · 1 month

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Hiii!! You’re my favorite ikeshot person! You write their personalities and dynamic so well!!

could you write something based on the song the 30th by Billie Eilish? the story behind the song is someone gets into a really bad car wreck(or accident of some sort) and the aftermath of it

hii!! i meant to answer this sooo long ago but i got caught up w/ school & have also been in a sims 4 grind LMFAO. thank you so much for this request!! i apologize if this is a little off from what you may have expected or what i have written in the past. it's been a hot minute since i've written this dynamic so pls bare w/ me :'). again, thank you so much for this request! i appreciate you & your support <33333

i wasn't sure if you wanted this to be modern!au or in the canon au, but i made it canon. so it doesnt EXACTLY follow the lyrics. but essentially follows the point of the song!! ALSO!! @sparkedblaze this is also for you because you are the reason i write for ikeshot <3

CW: blood mentioned, car accident mentioned, uhhh probably cussing i lowkey don't remember tbh, UHH sad gays idk i forgot how to do this

Hotshot couldn't help but stare. It made him sick to do so, but he couldn't stop. It was like watching a gruesome fight that you couldn't tear your eyes away from. Except it was Ike. His Ike. All bruised, cut, and bloodied; scrawled out pathetically on a hospital bed. He was all but disfigured. All but unrecognizable.

But often times he had this look about him, and Hotshot couldn't help but think he looked the exact same as he did before the accident. He would just look off into the distance, similar to how he used to look at the stars before everything. Occasionally he would squirm under his boyfriend's intense stare. But outside of that, he said and did nothing. He wouldn't move an inch until a nurse came to make him eat, or until Hotshot would force him to use the bathroom.

"We don't need ya kidneys to fail, now. You'se already been through enough."

It made Hotshot nauseous to take care of the boy. They had never been in this position before. Usually, it was Hotshot laid up with a broken bone or some odd illness nobody else got. And Ike was always right at his side. It didn't feel right when the roles were reversed. Not to either of them.

Ike was knocked out for a long time. The doctors and nurses started to doubt he would ever wake up. They had begun to prep Hotshot for the worst, not that he ever listened to them. All he did was sit, stare, and pray to whatever god was listening that his boy would wake up.

When he did finally wake up, the hospital was in a frenzy. There was a hushed, excited buzz about the air. All the nurses would linger by the doorway of his room and gossip about his 'miraculous awakening.'

The second his eyes opened, he was bombarded with numerous questions from the doctors. They were long, confusing questions that contained words that Hotshot could hardly believe were real. Ike was quickly overwhelmed. Tears teetered on the brink of his eyes and his breathing became rapid.

"Would ya stop pesterin' him for a second? He just woke up! What's wrong with the lotta ya? Huh? Ain't you supposed to be professionals? Let the boy breathe!" Hotshot yelled as he jumped to his feet. "He ain't just some medical miracle, alright? He's a person just like you 'n me. Give 'im a second."

One by one, the doctors and nurses began to shuffle out of the room. Each one glancing over their shoulders as they left. Hotshot could hear their gossiping whispers outside the door as he sat down closer to Ike.

"What's happenin'?" Ike asked. His voice was small, hoarse, and confused.

Hotshot furrowed his eyebrows and grabbed his lover's hand. "What'dya mean? Dont'cha remember? You was hit by one of them fancy new electric carriages."

Ike's initial confusion turned into a quick look of horror as he caught a glimpse of his bruised arms. "But... I'm alive right? I'm here? This is real?" The boy had started to freak out. He analyzed his arms, turning them every which way. He leaned forward, wincing as he did, and yanked the cover off his legs. It wasn't a pretty sight, and Hotshot had to stop himself from dry heaving just from seeing his boyfriend in such a state.

Gently, Hotshot pulled the blankets back over the boys legs. "You'se alright, Ike. For a couple of days there, I was worried. You'se was knocked out cold. But ya alive now. That's all that matters. You're alive." He wanted to do something. Squeez the boys hand, give him a pat on the leg... something. But he couldn't in fear of hurting the boy further. So, he just nodded and flashed him a forced, tight smile. "I think ya oughta lay down. You get yourself too worked up sometimes. It'll get worse if ya don't relax a little."

The other boy couldn't help but let out a laugh. He grabbed his chest in pain after he did. "Sounds like somethin' I'd usually tell you."

"Right." Hotshot rolled his eyes fondly. "Well, I reckon them so-called professionals out there are gonna wanna ask ya some questions. I'll make sure they go easy on ya, yeah?"

Ike nodded and closed his eyes as the other boy got up to let the doctors back in. He took a deep breath, once again wincing in pain, and prepared himself for the horror that would be the next few minutes.

Hotshot often felt ashamed when looking back on the day of the accident. None of it was his fault. He was often reminded by the Brooklyn boys that there was no way he could've known. But he felt as though he should've. That he should have seen the conjugation of people and he should've known. He should've listened to his gut telling him it was someone he knew. Someone important. Should've ran up and helped. But he didn't.

"It was a Tuesday, Hotshot." Spot had told him in the hospital. "Ya never could'a known. He ain't never come over to visit on a Tuesday. 'Specially not so early. Quit beatin' yerself up about it."

Even Mike had come and talked to him. Usually, they just sat there together in complete silence. But even Mike knew it wasn't his fault. "Listen, I know we ain't close but I gotta talk to ya about this. Spot told me what happened. That you'd seen the accident but didn't think nothing of it and..." He paused. Hotshot prepared himself to get screamed at. Berated for being an absolute idiot and not helping the others brother. But the ambush never came.

"It ain't ya fault," Hotshot continued. "Honest. Ya know I'd scream and kill ya if it was. Ain't no way you coulda took one look at the scene and knew it was him. Hell, I'm his twin brother and I didn't even get the sense that something was wrong 'till Scram came runnin' to tell the news." He sighed again and took another pause. "Even if ya had known. Even if ya had gone and tried to help, what could you have done? Huh? Ya ain't a professional. Situation woulda been the same any way about it."

Hotshot nodded. He understood them. He understood everyone who had come to talk to him. Deep down, he knew it wasn't his fault. But he couldn't stop beating himself up about it.

He relived the day in his head almost every single night. It was a normal Tuesday. Up as early as the birds, carrying the banner and collecting pity from people wandering the streets. He had seen the commotion early in the day. In fact, it had been right after he had bought his papers for the day.

It's far too early for this, he recalled thinking. There was always something going on in New York. Especially in Brooklyn and especially around the circulation buildings. Typically, it was a rough fist fight between two newsies, and at its worst it was a robbery of some sort. But neither of which would cause such a big commotion nor gathering of police and medical personnel.

Hotshot knew deep down something was wrong. He felt drawn to the accident, but he put it aside as his love for fights. Which is what he assumed it was. A big fight that got out of hand. Maybe one that had contanied multiple newsies instead of just two, or that had somehow gotten an adult of importance involved.

But he ignored the calling to the scene. He had a stack of papers on his bicep and they weren't going to sell themselves. Besides, the quicker he was done with work the quicker he could join Ike at Jacobi's. He hadn't even really thought of stopping to see what had happened. Just that it might be something interest, but not something he could be bothered to stop for.

Just thirty minute later, he heard Scram's pattering feet behind him. He turned quickly on his heel, looking down at the boy. He had a horrified look on his face and his cheeks were stained with tears. The boy began to speak, sputtering and rambling over himself. "It's- Ike- Well, he- It was a car- And-"

Hotshot's blood ran cold at the mention of Ike's name. The papers on his arm hit the ground with a thump and sent dust flying into the air around them. "Ike? What about Ike?" Scram began to cry again, flailing his arms and pointing behind him. Hotshot's heart sank. "Scram, spit it out! I need to know what happened!"

"There was an- an accident! He got hurt, real bad. Barely looks alive. He keeps askin' for ya! Ya gotta go! Quick! They're loadin' him into the ambulance!"

"Where, Scram? Where?"

Scram's face was red and covered in snot. "Right outside the circulation building!"

Hotshot's heart sank even farther, something he hadn't believed to be possible. "Listen to me, Scram. Listen good. You go run and you don't stop running 'till you find Mike, alright? You tell him everything. You tell Manhattan everything. Okay?" He didn't even wait for the boys response.

He abandoned his dropped papes as he sprinted as fast as he could back to the circulation building. As he arrived at the scene, he couldn't help but be angry. He pushed his way through the crowd, screaming obscenities and demanding they let him into the ambulance. Police tried to hold him back when he finally made it to the front.

"He's been asking for me! They told me he's been asking for me! I'm Hotshot! Ya gotta let me in!" Hotshot screamed. "His family's all the way in 'Hattan! Ya can't let him go alone! He'll be scared!" Before he could stop himself, he screamed: "Ya can't let 'im die alone!"

Upon hearing the last bit—and discussing the boys name, which the injured boy had been groggily repeating over and over again—the officers let the boy through. Hotshot climbed into the back of ambulance and gripped onto the other boys hand.

"Ya think I'm gonna die?" Ike sputtered out, blood covering his mouth. "I- Mike's gonna be so mad. He ain't gonna have no-one."

Hotshot realized what he had yelled previously and began to panic. "Nah, nah. Ya ain't gonna die, Ike. You'se too strong to, okay? I just said that so they'd let me through. That's all. You'se gonna be just fine."

"I'm scared, Hotshot. I'm really scared."

"Hey, don't say that. You'se gonna be alright. Don't be scared. I ain't! I know you'se gonna be just fine. Okay." But the truth was, Hotshot was horrified. He hadn't been so scared in his entire life. He dropped his voice to a whisper as he continued to speak. "Ya still look so pretty, ya know that? Gorgeous, Ike. Ya gorgeous."

After hearing Hotshot's whispers, the boy took a deep, choked breath and closed his eyes.

After Ike finally woke up, he often thought aloud about what would've happened among different circumstance. Hotshot hated hearing it. He hated thinking about how, if the situation had only been slightly different, Ike could've died.

"What if it had been on Thursday? Someone else coulda been drivin' it. Goin' faster, not have slowed down or stopped. Coulda taken me straight into the next life."

"Would ya stop that?" Hotshot muttered. His face was deep in his hands.

Ike paused for a couple of minutes before speaking up once again. "I coulda been on ya bridge. They coulda sent me straight over into the water. I don't even know how to swim now. Imagine it with broken bones..."

"Ike."

"I coulda been in that neighborhood where all them families lived. Some little kid coulda found me and not told anyone cause they'd be scared they'd get in trouble or something."

"Ike."

"If it had been winter and it was snowing or rainin'. And the car had skidded, lost control. Hit me full speed."

Hotshot had started to tear up and his composure was breaking. "Ike, please." He begged in a broken voice.

But Ike couldn't help himself. He was spiraling. "Or if I was on one of them backroad nobody goes on. Nobody woulda even seen it happen. If just a small little thing was different, I'd probably be-"

"Ike!" Hotshot finally yelled. "Stop. You need to stop. I can't keep doin' it. Can't keep listenin' to ya kill yaself in your daydreams. You're alive, okay? You're alive. So just shut up! Because there's no life, no reality where I'm letting ya die. Alright? Especially not at the hands of some rich idiot's fancy car. So just... stop."

Ike nodded, his voice small. "Sorry. I just... I'm just freaking out. I dunno if I'm meant to be alive right now."

Hotshot sighed. "Listen. You'se the great person alive." He sat down and gently took ahold of his boyfriends hand. "If anyone in this world's meant to be alive, it's you. Alright?" He kissed Ike's hand and wiped at his eye with his own hand. "You're alive, Ike. Don't think about anything else. We got a buncha years ahead of us. Don't worry 'bout nothin' else."

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