#BAM CANDIDATES

[i-am-simply-here]

The political ads here in Ohio have been crazy its 90% ads against Sherrod Brown bc he's "too liberal for Ohio". Anyway one just came on and I'm wheezing bc they said "he's for they/them, not for you" like pls that's low key hilarious 😭😭😭

[madeinjapan-thailand-blbambeyond]

MADE IN THAILAND

ASAVARID PINITKANJANAPUN

[Nickname: HENG]

[pompompompeii]

I tend to check the news like once a day max do you know how fucking embarrassing it is to get 99% of your breaking reports from tumblr

[mond-is-a-thief]

KOI WO SURU NARA NIDOME GA JOTO (2024)

TAKAMATSU ALOHA

Support Role: SHIRAISHI YUTO

With a main role in 2023 BL SHIGATSU NO TOKYO WA...(TOKYO IN APRIL IS...) and a guest role in MINATO SHOUJI COIN LAUNDRY SEASON 2, Aloha steps into the role as a assistant to senpai and also a stalker of sorts (but not really) more of an interested party. Though a foil to the main couple Aloha shines in every scene he appears in. Even when being put in his place.

[madeinkorea-blbambeyond]

MCF: MADE IN KOREA

KI HYUN WOO

[jazziejax]

★ 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘 ★ 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘 ★

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Terry Richmond x Black!OC

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - 𝐎𝐡, 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲, 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲! 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝!

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Slow burn, one-sided pining (or is it?), blurred lines, emotionally tense bodyguard dynamics, light possessiveness, princess-core x protector energy.

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - seeing this fine ass man and his fine ass girlfriend got me in the mood to write again 🤷🏽‍♀️. Also, he looks like a bouncer every time he wears all black. Also, also, this is corny as fuck but I wanted to be a bit original so I went, fuck it, Princess! Sorry for any grammar mistakes or spelling errors! I hate reading my own work back!

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 3,908+

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

The screen lit up with the TikTok app’s familiar start-up jingle, followed by a soft gasp from the girl on-screen. She wore a silk bonnet, lip gloss, and an oversized tee, holding her phone like she had just discovered treasure

“Okay. Y’all… I was just trying to figure out who this woman was that literally almost shut down a street in Milan yesterday. Like—shut it DOWN. And I fell into a hole. So, let’s get into it because—why did no one tell me this princess is that girl?”

The screen cut to the now-viral photo of Princess Atarah Mbali, draped in a chartreuse Jacquemus mini dress with a long sculptural train, strappy metallic heels, and a pair of gradient sunglasses that half-covered her face. Her hair was in two sleek, waist-length braids, and her brown skin glowed under the paparazzi’s camera flash. In the background was a blurry figure in all-black — broad, tall, still.

“First of all — yes. This is an actual princess. Like, royalty. Heiress to a fucking throne. Her mom is Queen Samira — which is the one who brought that sapphire headwrap to a UN gala she attended with her husband, and it broke Twitter. Yeah, that’s her mother. So, her bloodline is already fashionable as fuck. Sort of known to be on of the best dressed families in power.”

The video then cut to a mashup, which was actually a vintage Vogue spread from years ago featuring Queen Samira’s wedding to King Kwame Mbali, followed by a slideshow of archival footage showing a much younger Atarah. From boarding school photos, grainy royal family candids, and charity gala appearances and even the occasional one of her as a child, waving to the paps. She was always poised, always beautiful, and was always watched.

“She’s twenty-four now. Went to university in London, dipped in and out of the spotlight for most of her life — and then bam, started popping up in these random clips and videos all over social media. Baby she’s been here.”

The TikTok cuts to a now-infamous video. It shows a bustling crowd outside an afterparty in France. Nothing but chaos and screaming as different security guards yelled in four different languages. The camera shakes wildly until it catches a tall, sharply built man with deep brown skin and a calm, stoic expression emerging through the crowd from the door of the party. It shows as he turned and effortlessly lifts a girl. And there, effortlessly balanced across his shoulders, laughing in a mini dress and stiletto boots, was Atarah Mbali, shades across her face as she blushed at the attention.  

“This was her. THIS was her. And that man carrying her like a paper doll? That’s not her boyfriend. That’s her bodyguard. Terry. Richmond. Who has apparently been with her for, like, almost ten years now???”

The voiceover softened, almost dreamily.

“And he is always so there? Like—girl, look at this.”

It then cuts to another video. A jet ski gliding across the turquoise coast of Antigua. Atarah in a red bikini, long braids flying behind her as she’s driving with her sunglasses on and laughing. And behind her, hands gently resting on her waist to make sure the standing girl didn’t fall, face unreadable, sat Terry. Wet shirt clinging to him with his eyes trained on the horizon.

Then it cut again — quick flashes of mirror selfies she’d posted on her now semi-active account throughput the years. Some of them were classic influencer content in a way. Chic bags, nails, jewelry. But if you looked closely, there he was in the background every time — blurred in the mirror, half cropped, standing at the door, boots in the frame.

“So like… she doesn’t post a lot, but when she does? He’s always there, which I know he’s her bodyguard, but he’s fine as fuck.” 

The TikTok cuts to one last clip , one low-resolution and shaky.

It was a New York Fashion Week afterparty. There was loud music and flashing lights. Atarah’s hand is in Terry’s as they move through the crowd with her in front. At one point, she stumbles in heels and he catches her by the waist like it’s second nature. She doesn’t even look that surprised by the touch. She just leans back into him for one second longer than necessary with a slightly agape mouth.

“You’re telling me that’s just professionalism? She not fucking his fine ass? Please. I bet that man is in love with his job for…many reasons. Either way, I need this in a book or on a screen near me, immediately.”

The TikTok ends with a picture of her reflection in Capri, Atarah smirking under sunglasses, head slightly tilted toward the large window she was taking the photo in. And Terry was behind her, one hand on the car door, the other on his hip as he watched her. 

That was the video Atarah watched on her phone last night, the hum of the private jet subtle. Once it send and automatically started over in her headphones, it was then she felt how much she was smiling. She looked away from the phone illuminating her face, the video still playing in her ears, and her eyes landed on the man across the aisle. There Terry sat in a reclined airplane seat, asleep with a fluffy yellow blanket thrown over him, the one she placed earlier. And as she gazed at him, the end of the video rang in her ears again. 

“She not fucking his fine ass? Please. I bet that man is in love with his job for…many reasons. Either way, I need this in a book or on a screen near me, immediately.”

With that, she shut her phone off and took her earphones off her ears. She let out a soft sigh as she placed the items in her carryon bag next to her before snuggling up in under her blanket and going to sleep, the last thing she saw being the sleeping man next to him. 

────୨ৎ────

The private jet cut a clean line through the skies above Los Angeles, the soft hum of descent barely noticeable within the luxurious interior. Plush cream seats gleamed under the warm glow of the cabin lights, and through the oval windows, the city stretched like a golden mirage beneath them.

“Terry, wake up!”

Atarah’s voice rang out like morning bells, crisp and bright, far too lively for someone who had been curled up asleep moments ago. She sat up quickly, brushing a stray coil of dark hair from her cheek, her smile wide as her eyes danced toward the window. “We’re here!”

Across the aisle, Terry sat upright, dressed in all black, as always—black trousers, black fitted shirt, black earpiece, black watch. His presence alone was intimidating, but unmoved. “I see that. He replied coolly, casting her a sidelong glance, unimpressed but not unamused. “I’m awake.”

“Well get excited!” She grinned, undeterred by his tone. Her international accent—a rich blend of aristocratic English with the softness of African musicality—filled the cabin as effortlessly as the scent of her lavender oil did earlier. No one on board blinked at her enthusiasm. The flight staff were used to her, used to them. Atarah, Princess of the House of Mbali. And Terry…her unflinching shadow.

They began their landing procedures, Atarah adjusting her pale yellow polo sweater over her grey sweats, slipping on her worn-in Uggs. “You’re going to help me carry my bags, right?” She teased as she stuffed her hair into a claw clip and collected her Hermès blanket.

“I already coordinated your luggage, Your Highness.” Terry muttered.

She beamed at that, softly clapping her hands while Terry stared at her. 

Fifteen minutes later, the jet touched down, the California sun spilling across the tarmac like honey. The moment Atarah stepped off the jet, she squealed in delight, her laughter light as she slipped her arm through Terry’s. She barely made it down the steps before the sound of shrill voices caught her ear.

“Tarah!”

“Ahh!” The woman squeaked, letting go of Terry immediately to run toward the small group of girls gathered near the base of the jet. They wore matching wide-brim hats and high-cut shorts, their Louis Vuitton crossbodies swinging as they jogged forward to meet her.

The girls collided in a chorus of shrieks and perfume.

“Omg, I haven’t seen you guys in ages!” Atarah said, pulling back just slightly to admire them, her cheeks still flushed from sleep and sun. Behind her, Terry stood like a statue, arms crossed, sunglasses hiding the storm in his eyes.

“That’s because you’ve been MIA.” Said Bailey, her British accent curled like a ribbon. Bailey was slim and surgically preserved, her cheekbones a little too sharp, and her lip filler giving her a constant pout. Classic British babe with an iffy tan but a nice beat face. 

Atarah shrugged with a soft laugh. “Because I’ve been busy. You know…princess, eldest daughter things.”

Harper rolled her eyes. “Besides not hearing from you for almost months, yeah, we can tell.” She said in that soft Italian accent, before her eyes racked the princess. “What are you wearing?” She added as she brushed her Bon blonde hair away from her face, her gaze, and the rest of theirs, lingering critically on Atarah’s oversized grey sweats, polo sweater, and Uggs. 

Atarah glanced down at herself and blinked. “What?” She said. “I was on a jet.” She stated, defending herself from the scrutiny she felt. Bailey scoffed, but it was Harper’s curled lip that gave it away. Atarah followed their gaze and saw the others already dressed for Coachella, all fringe, mesh, lace, and glitter. “Oh, are you guys heading out now?” She asked.

“Yeah,” Bailey said. “Didn’t think we had to tell you we wanted you to be ready.” Her tone was achingly sweet. And it scratched under Atarah’s her skin. She gave the girl a tight smile. “Well, Lady Gaga doesn’t come on ‘til later, so I’ll catch up with you guys after I get ready.”

“Where are you staying?” Sofia asked then, her soft blue eyes too curious. She was the prettiest of the trio, a nice blonde blowout and a Swedish accent with a supermodel’s height and bone structure to tie it all in.

“Uh, the private villa up north.” She responded. Sofia nodded, but Terry saw it—the subtle glance Harper threw Bailey, the way Bailey blinked hard just before she turned her cheek. He stepped forward without a word, hand landing protectively on the small of Atarah’s back.

Atarah glanced up at him, then back at her friends. “I gotta go get ready. I’ll see you guys later.” She said with a small smile. Terry ushered her toward the line of black SUVs parked nearby. He didn’t have to say a word. She already felt the prickle on the back of her neck. She waved at the girls once more before slipping into the middle car, and Terry followed.

As the door shut behind him, Atarah exhaled, gaze flicking over her stacked LV trunks in the back, just as the sound of Terry shutting the car door sounded. She settled into her seat as her eyes then drifted out of the window. Her friends were already climbing into their own vehicle, laughing again. The engine thrummed and the SUV pulled off into the city, heat shimmering off the asphalt.

There was a silence, thick and unspoken before looked over at the man next to him. “Go ahead and say it.” She muttered.  “I know you want to.”

“I don’t like your friends.” Terry said without a pause, looking away from the passing plains and connecting his eyes with her.

Atarah turned her body to face him, legs tucked under her. “And why is that again?”

“It wouldn’t be respectful for me to say.”

She tilted her head back with a small groan, but she couldn’t help the smile on her face. “You know it’s just you and I. You can say anything.” She looked over his face, his ocean-green eyes unreadable, but they always made her comfortable. Terry just started at her and after a brief pause, the girl snapped her head over to the driver. “And you too, Sergio!” She called up to the driver.

“Thank you, Miss.” The man replied evenly, and it was never clear if he even heard what she said or was just responding to the sound of his name. But Atarah nodded before she looked back over at Terry. “Come on.” She urged with a small whine, and since she was twisted in her seat, she poked his thigh with her so foot, since she slipped out of her uggs. There was silence, so Atarah began to repeatedly nudge him with her foot. 

And Terry had the patience of a monk. He was military trained since the young age of sixteen and there was little to nothing that could break him. Even the ever spoiled persistence of a princess that he’s known for years now. But Atarah had grew to be a friend, someone he had a soft spot for. So he grabbed her ankle gently, his large hand wrapping around it as his gaze slid over to hers. Her toes wiggled in his lap.

“I think they’re spoiled brats.” He said, voice low.

“That’s not what you wanted to say.” She sing-songed, looking him in the eye. She knew him too well. “You say the same thing about me.”

Terry’s jaw ticked. “I think they’re bitches.”

“There it is!” Atarah squealed, clapping once. “See, I know you so well.” She grinned. She leaned over, pressing her fingertip from her temple to his, her smile all honey and victory. He didn’t flinch and held the most subtle smile as he watched her. Her touch lingered a little too long before she dropped back into her seat, legs still draped across his lap.

She folded her hands in her lap, then gave him a prim look. “Now let’s talk about your choice of words for women.”

He chuckled—just a breath—but it made her heart skip. He rarely laughed, rarely softened around anyone but her. And when he did…it made her feel like she was the only person on earth who could. She watched him quietly, chin resting against the back of her seat. His thumb rubbed a slow, lazy circle into the inside of her ankle, unaware or uncaring of the way her breath hitched and made her heart beat. 

Outside the window, the desert sprawled into sun-drenched silence. But inside the car, it was warmer. And there was a tension that hung somewhere between comfort and longing.

Terry finally looked away from her and back over to the passing plains. “They don’t deserve your time.” He said simply.

And for the first time all day, Atarah didn’t have anything to say back.

The ride to the villa stretched across golden stretches of highway, sun slicing through the tinted windows in drowsy beams. Atarah chattered about the things she’d missed of the city. The food trucks on Melrose, late-night runs to Erewhon, how nobody did iced lattes quite like L.A., all while Terry responded with low hums and sparse nods. It wasn’t that he wasn’t listening; he always listened. He was just…more focused on watching. Her. 

When they finally pulled up to the secluded villa, tucked high in the Coachella Valley hills and wrapped in flowering bougainvillea, Atarah reached for the door instinctively, ready to burst out like she always did—except Terry’s sharp glance caught her mid-motion.

She froze. And with a dramatic sigh and a roll of her eyes, she folded her arms and waited.

Terry stepped out first, the desert sun casting sharp angles across his sharp cheekbones. His black shirt hugged the contours of his broad chest and arms, a quiet authority in his every movement. His eyes scanned the villa once before flicking back to the SUV. He reached out a hand.

“Come on.” He said.

With her small hand in his, she stepped down from the vehicle, her fingers tightening briefly around his. Terry guided her across the gravel path as Pedro and Nash, two more men from her security detail, did a sweep of the property. When the nods were given, he opened the front door for her, and they stepped into the villa together, hands still clasped like a quiet ritual neither of them ever spoke about. It was second nature to them now. A rhythm of theirs.

He led her through the villa and to her room—an airy, high-ceilinged suite with floor-to-ceiling windows and light pouring in. The rest of her bags were already being delivered in shifts by Sergio, the ever-loyal driver. When Terry finally released her hand, Atarah darted toward the patio doors like a spring uncoiled.

She threw them open, linen curtains flying up as wind surged in, tousling her dark curls. Her body moved to the edge of the balcony, where the view opened into a vast stretch of golden plains. In the distance, she could make out the Coachella stages being lit up for the day. “I’m soglad to be back in the States!” She cried, arms wide open, wind tugging at her baggy sweats and polo. She stood there a moment, basking in the warmth like a cat in sunlight.

When she turned, Terry was there, posted by the door, hands behind his back, as disciplined as a palace guard. Her grin softened as she brushed past him to return to the room, the curtains trailing behind her like silk.

Sergio was just finishing with the bags.

“Thank you.” She said sincerely as she pulled her phone form her pocket and ,add her way over to her bed 

“You’re welcome, madame.” He replied with a small bow, and after a nod from Terry, he quietly exited.

She was halfway through connecting her phone to the portable speaker when she noticed Terry turning for the door.

“Where are you going?” She asked, pausing mid-pairing.

“To keep watch.” He answered, never quite turning fully toward her.

“But I need you to help me pick an outfit.” She said quickly, padding barefoot toward him. “My friends aren’t here, and I need someone honest to help me figure out what looks good.” She explained, but his face didn’t change as he looked down at her.  She saw the hesitation in the twitch of his brow. She stepped closer, reaching for his hand, wrapping hers around it like it was natural—like it always had been. “Terry,” She said, voice soft. “Just for a little while.” She pleaded. 

The fight in him dissolved instantly. He released a long breath through his nose before squeezing her hand once, a gesture so gentle it made her chest flutter.

He turned and pressed a hand to his earpiece. “Keep watch.” He said, eyes scanning the view of the living space elf the villa before closing the doors. “Copy.” Pedro’s voice came through as Terry turned to face her again to see Atarah’s beaming face. 

Then she squealed and bolted to her bags like a child on Christmas morning. The speaker kicked on, flooding the room with a blasting beats, songs from R&B to hip hop. Thumping basslines, soft synths, and female vocals that bled into every corner of the suite. 

Terry settled into the ottoman at the foot of her bed, sitting with his legs apart, elbows on his knees. His eyes followed her as she disappeared into the bathroom with an armful of options, and the show began.

She stepped out a minute later in a white two-piece, mesh skirt riding low on her hips and a crochet halter top tied around her neck, showing the cursive tattoo she had on her hip that said “made in heaven”. She twirled in front of the mirror, then turned toward him.

“What do you think?” She asked, posing for him with a smile. 

Terry tilted his head, assessing her from head to toe.

“Cute. But more so for the beach, not a music festival.” He said. 

She let out a small sight before turning away from him, giving herself one more look. “Ugh, okay.” She said before walking back into the bathroom. Next came a butterfly top with flared jeans, but she shook her head before even asking, disappeared again.

Then came sequins—so many sequins. A matching bra and shorts combo that shimmered like fish scales in the light. She struck a few poses and snapped photos in front of the mirror. She glanced back to find Terry watching, his jaw slack just barely, the muscle ticking.

“This one’s hot.” She said, teasing.

“It is.” He agreed. “But what shoes would you wear with that.”

She teasing smirk dropped and disappeared again, this time taking longer. Each time she reappeared, her confidence built. She laughed freely, twirled for him, winked at herself, even bent to see if she would flash anyone when she twerked. The air in the room grew warmer with every outfit. Every look. Every comment from Terry that made her feel seen and admired.

Finally, she emerged wearing the outfit she didn’t want to try at first. A storm-gray hooded mini-dress clung to her curves, cinched with a thick, black belt that sat high on her waist. Beneath the draped neckline peeked the edge of a black lace bra, sultry and deliberate. Stacked silver jewelry shimmered at her collarbone and wrists. Chunky black boots hit just below the knee, elongating her legs.

She didn’t pose this time. She just stood there and watched as Terry sat up straighter and eyed her up and down, her hands brushing down the front of the dress to straighten it

Her lips curved slowly. “Well?” She asked, placing her hands on her hips.

“I think that’s the one.” He said, voice low, rougher than it had been all day.

She didn’t say anything at first, just smiled, almost shy, before walking to the mirror to snap a few photos, her behind facing him. 

Terry watched her the whole time, fingers curled on his knees, heart beating louder than usual. The song playing in the background was low and sultry, ‘Naught Girl’ by Beyoncé almost like a whisper meant just for them. When she lowered her phone, her eyes met his in the mirror. “I think I just needed you to remind me who I am.” She nodded, her eyes moving to rake over her figure again, though her voice was soft. 

Terry stood slowly, the space between them suddenly much smaller than before. “You never forgot.” He said, approaching her with a quiet kind of reverence. “You just let them convince you to question it.”

Their eyes locked and her breath caught a bit as her eyes moved over his alluring features.  In the silence that followed, they didn’t touch. They didn’t need to. But it was clear as the sunlight pouring in through the balcony door—neither of them wanted to walk away. Atarah softly cleared her throat before turning around to face him, looking up at the handsome man, his grey eyes moving down to look into hers. “Now let’s get you dressed.” She smiled, giving his broad chest a pat before moving past him. But her brushing him against him was something that didn’t go unnoticed by either of them,  especially with the spark it sent through their bodies. 

If you would like to be added to the taglist, comment here!

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 & 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 🗑️ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch. 4 a day in the life of a hot soccer player

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 4/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 3.4k

a/n. yay for gojo pov chapter! i originally tried writing this from reader's pov but it wasn't really working for some reason so i switched it up.

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

Gojo Satoru was never really the type of guy to be serious to just one woman. He had a sort of rotation of women that he'd go through every couple of weeks. Now wait, before you think he's an asshole, he once tried to have a serious girlfriend in college. But he quickly realized that it's really difficult to coordinate down time. When he's taking an exam, she's calling to ask if he's free. When he's off practice, she's got work. Once a week ended up being all he could really see her. And for a guy with a sex drive as high as his, that just wasn't enough. But having multiple women meant more chances of at least one of their schedules lining up with when he’s free, and bam, he was getting laid on a consistent basis. Okay, now you can think he's an asshole. 

He knew he was a bit of a slut, a manwhore, a player, whatever the girls in his Instagram comments liked to tease him about. But it felt good to be those things because for some weird reason it gave him confidence. It was just a stupid, primal, egotistic, caveman feeling that's probably carved into the DNA of every man out there. He can't help it.

Turns out he just really likes it when people rely on him. He likes it when his teammates entrust him with the winning goal during the final moments of a match, he likes it when women put their pleasure at his mercy during sex, and something within his stupid, primal, egotistic, caveman mind really liked it when you had that intent spark in your eye asking him to help you achieve something for your dreams. 

Gojo lay in his bed, ankles crossed and rested up on a pile of folded laundry at the end of the bed. One of his hands was tucked behind his head that was resting on a couple of pillows, and his other hand was scrolling through his phone.

This weekend’s party was a bit more exclusive with each member of the frat only getting two invites for the list. There were restricted parties like this in the past, and Gojo very rarely used his plus-ones/twos. Most of his friends were already from the frat, and most of the hot sorority girls would be invited by other dudes anyways. But this time, he was considering inviting you.

His mind wanders to that first night he met you at that party. You looked slightly different in person compared to your photos, a bit edgier than the soft persona captured by the candids on your social media that your friends took of you. Gojo scoffs at himself when he remembers how worked up he got over the belief that this random girl he Instagram DM’d was insinuating she would be down to fuck that night, some arrangement where he shows her a damn good time as a reward for bringing her roommate to his friend. It was a pretty sexy scenario in his head. Despite the hindsight he has now, for Gojo that kind of thing wasn’t an insane thing to assume. Excuse him for sounding a bit arrogant, but women tended to blatantly throw themselves at him pretty much everywhere he went. And besides, you were cute, so maybe a part of it was just his wishful thinking, too. 

You were like a deer in headlights at that party. He watched as you looked around the room at one point in the night, searching for something before you disappeared into a hallway. When he finally had you alone to himself in the kitchen, and he realized all you wanted to drink all night was water, the prospect of a casual hookup seemed to be slipping further and further away from his grasp. 

But his chest filled with a different, unfamiliar feeling when you mentioned what you really wanted from him, and he’s been chasing that feeling ever since. 

Right now, he just wanted to see you again. He hated how you seemed to just abruptly leave any time the two of you were together, which has only been twice so far, but still. He wanted to see you in something that wasn’t just a plain t-shirt and jeans (although that was definitely his favorite clothing on a woman most of the time). He wanted to know what you were like when you were a little bit tipsy, maybe even a little bit drunk. Were you talkative? Emotional? Touchy? Flirty? 

Gojo’s thumb hovers over the Instagram chat that had your name on it. He should really just ask you for your number at this point. 

When Gojo clicked on the chat and used it to go to your profile, he noticed you posted some more photos. Just a slideshow of your life recently. Some pictures of flowers you spotted on what looked like a bike ride judging from the shadow, a cake you baked recently for a friend’s birthday, a snapshot of a cat running away in an alleyway. The last picture was a black and white photo looking through a soccer goal net towards a tree in the distance, and Gojo quickly recognized it as the one on UTokyo’s practice field. 

His thumb double taps the post and then he’s back to the page with your messages. He had reached out to you again after Monday's practice saying that the team was doing another practice match on Thursday, which was yesterday, but you mentioned you were busy working on something for a club you’re in.

An iMessage notification pops up at the top of his phone from one of his frat brothers. 

|| 3:12pm ryota the GOATa: gotta finish sending out qr codes. you got the names/insta handles for your invites tonight? or you just not gonna invite anyone like usual? 

He sighs, wondering what to do, when he ultimately decides against inviting you. You were probably busy with something anyways, and he didn't want to experience the disappointment of you saying you can't come if he does ask, fearing that there might be a reason that didn’t have anything to do with an accumulating pile of class assignments. It’s a bit of a cop out, he knows that, but whatever. You very clearly told him that the two of you weren’t friends.

He types out a message that reads yea my homie @ThePope, pls. Also, your mom to which Ryota replies fuck off.

Even though there was no practice today, Gojo felt like he just needed to get out of the house for a bit. There were too many thoughts in his head, most of them about you, and he didn’t like it. He wants to be smooth-brained Gojo that just thinks about soccer and partying. He slides his legs over to the edge of his bed and sits up, inhaling and exhaling harshly, before standing up in resolution and heading to his closet. He pulls his soft cotton t-shirt over his head in favor of an athletic long sleeve and pulls on a pair of sweatpants over his SpongeBob boxer briefs (don’t make fun of him, please). 

When Gojo opens his door, he’s hit with the smell of food cooking and with the noise of two of his roommates, probably Sota and Hide, yelling profanities with video game sound effects in the background. He walks downstairs, pushing his left arm through the sleeve of his shirt.

“Hey, where are you going? We don’t have practice today,” Geto asks from the kitchen as he flips his quesadilla on the pan, spilling a bunch of its contents everywhere. “Shit.” 

“I know we don’t,” Gojo says, tilting his neck from side to side to loosen it up. “Just going for a run.” He extends his right arm across his chest, holding it in a stretch, and grunts a little. 

“Ah, yes, our star player,” Geto muses as he wipes the counter down.

Gojo twists his torso to stretch out his back and releases a slow exhale from how good it felt. “Gotta keep that stamina up,” he says, “for more reasons than one.”

Geto lets out an annoyed sigh from where he’s washing his hands at the sink. They both watch Hide almost chuck his controller at the TV before Sota stops him. By the entryway, Gojo slips on his running shoes and puts his airpods in his ears, then he’s out the door. 

The weather is nice. It’s pretty sunny, a bit hotter than Gojo was expecting, but he wanted to work up a sweat anyways. He taps at his smartwatch and realizes his running app isn’t working, so he shrugs and just decides to guess what running six miles feels like.

As he’s running, his mind wanders to you again. The last time he saw you out on the field, you had a strange expression on your face. It seemed like you were in a rush to leave, which is fine, but it was like you refused to make eye contact with him. Was it something he said? Or something he did? It probably was, he had a habit of fucking things up with people sometimes, but he doesn’t really know what he could’ve done for you to avoid him. Your messages back to him have been pretty curt and weirdly polite, too. 

Somewhere lost in his thoughts, six miles turns into twelve and he’s drenched in sweat by the time he makes it back to the house at around 6PM. Taking two steps at a time up the stairs, he gets into the shower and gets himself fresh, then throws on a black t-shirt, some black joggers, and non-cartoon-related underwear.

He finally checks his phone for the first time after coming home from his run and sees a bunch of new DMs and messages but none were from you. And the fact that he was still thinking about you after running nearly half a marathon had him annoyed. Which is why he’s grateful for the party tonight. Alcohol and sex typically made most things better. 

When Gojo runs into Geto in the loft and asks him about his plans tonight, Geto says he’s got an essay to write so he’ll leave for the house party probably closer to midnight. Gojo calls Nanami, who says he’s not going until Geto gets there because until then there would be no one to buffer Gojo’s fucking idiocracy throughout the night (his exact words). Apparently, Chosou’s still sick with food poisoning. When he checks with Hide and Sota, they say they’re going to go but only after pregaming at a sorority party, which Gojo has no patience for. Todo says he’ll be there from dusk ‘til dawn, of course. He sees a bunch of texts in the fraternity group chat that he has muted, as well as a lot of DMs from girls, asking when he’s going to show up but he doesn’t respond to anyone and decides to just go whenever he feels like it. 

He ends up leaving home by himself at around 11pm, the walk to the host house taking eight minutes. He walks by some other houses that were having incredibly crowded parties, probably for the people that weren’t invited out to this one, and the smell of weed in the air causes him to scrunch his nose. When he walks up the driveway of the house, he sees Ryota at the door, scanning people’s phones and ushering them inside.

“Hey, man,” Gojo greets Ryota with a solid grab of his hand and slap on the back. 

“What’s up, dude.” He returns the greeting.

“Did your mom make it?” Gojo asks. 

“Just get the fuck inside,” Ryota says, pointing to the entrance behind him with his thumb.

When Gojo enters the house, the flashing lights temporarily blind him until his eyes quickly readjust. The DJ had the bass-boosted all the way up to where Gojo could feel the music in his bones and his lips curl up into a smile at the excitement running through his veins. It was mostly dark inside, except for the sporadic lighting from the couple of light fixtures near the DJ’s console, and people seemed to move in slow motion as they were briefly illuminated every other second. 

Gojo hears some people call his name, but he makes it straight towards the back where he knows the drinks are and downs a couple of shots of tequila before he even considers talking to a single person. 

“Yo, dude, you’re here,” he hears Sota say from behind him and he turns around. Sota and Hide are both barely standing up straight with their arms around two sorority girls each. It seems somewhere along the night the two of them had lost their shirts. “Did Geto come with you?”

Gojo shakes his head, making eye contact with one of the girls that was tucked to Hide’s side. “Nah, he’s still working on his essay.” Sota mutters something like lame and Gojo notices the girl miming an obvious blowjob gesture while looking him straight in the eyes. He ignores it and turns around to face the drinks table again, working on mixing himself a drink. He was clearly not shit-faced enough to deal with anything right now.

There’s people yelling in the backyard and Gojo spots Yuuji through the window doing a keg stand outside. He’s about to make his way over there to bear witness too until someone’s grabbing at the back of his shirt.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Gojo fucking Satoru,” he hears a voice call and he sighs, turning around.

Shoko’s standing in front of him, wearing an extremely cropped shirt and a denim skirt, with a couple of her friends by her side.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Shoko fucking Ieiri,” he mimics her with a smirk on his face, “oh, and, uh, friends? Never met you two before.”

One of the girls beside her rolls her eyes. “We’ve fucked like twice,” she scowls, crossing her arms, and then she looks up at the ceiling to ponder something before looking back down at him again, “actually, I’m pretty sure three times.” 

“You’re not the only one with a busted memory, sweetheart,” he says and he’s about to continue towards the backyard when Shoko walks in front of him, putting a hand on his chest and pushing him backwards a bit, the movement causing some of the drink in his hand to spill. She’s standing up on her tiptoes and then clenching the fabric of his shirt in her hand, pulling him down towards her. 

“You in the mood to make out tonight?” she asks him, biting down on her lip, and Gojo’s eyes are quick to watch the action.

“Sure, but later,” he says casually. Again, not quite shit-faced enough to deal with any of this yet. He grabs her wrist and pulls her hand from his shirt then makes it to the backyard, exchanging greetings with some of his frat brothers on the way there, and makes work of the absolutely horrendous cocktail he’s mixed up for himself as he watches Yuuji entertain the masses. 

The night goes on, Gojo getting progressively more alcohol into his system until he’s worked up a steady buzz and finds himself about ready to do a backflip off the patio roof in front of a bunch of cheering people when Geto has to convince him to get down.

“Dude, I’ve literally been here for two minutes,” Geto grumbles. 

Gojo slings his arm around his best friend, half in camaraderie and half for support. “I missed you, man, where have you been?” Gojo drawls in Geto’s ears, clearly a bit drunk, and Geto doesn’t even bother answering him as he’s walking him back inside.

When the two of them spot Sota and Hide by a beer pong table, they make their way over. Gojo sobers up a bit when he realizes Todo isn’t there.

“Yo, where’s the king of beer pong at?” Gojo asks, his speech slightly slurred.

Nanami, who had his arms crossed and was leaning back against the wall, shrugs slightly. “He said he’d come later.”

“But he said he’d be here from dusk ‘til dawn!” Gojo’s whining loudly near Geto’s ear and the dark-haired man winces at the volume. 

“Alright, let’s sit down,” Geto says and the two of them make their way to the set of couches in the center of the living room where some people were chatting, some were (hopefully) sleeping, and others were getting handsy. 

Gojo slumps down on one of the couches, relishing in the comfort, and when he spots Chosou next to him he’s convinced he’s hallucinating. “What the fuck, aren’t you supposed to be sick?”

Chosou shrugs and glances up at Gojo from the screen of his phone, leg bouncing up and down impatiently. “Nah, I was never sick. Just had an exam to study for and had to get out of practice somehow.” 

Gojo’s about to get angry at him but instead he just sinks further into the couch and throws his head back to look up at the ceiling, a sudden wave of melancholy washing over him. He was at this party, alcohol running through his veins, yet there was this feeling inside of him that he just couldn’t shake. It was some type of disappointment, an emptiness, like despite everything going on around him he was still missing something. 

“This seat taken?”

He tips his head back down and sees Shoko in front of him. His line of sight follows the direction of her pointed finger until he sees that she’s gesturing to his lap where he was very obnoxiously man-spreading. 

“Nah, but I was saving it for you,” he says with a grin and she’s rolling her eyes as she takes a seat on his thigh. She seems a bit tipsy herself, giggling at the pinch he gives her at her hip. Ah, yes, Gojo realizes the emptiness he was feeling was probably from the fact that he has yet to get laid tonight.

“Satoruuuu, take me upstairs,” she’s purring in his ear and he shakes his head.

“Jesus, Shoko, relax,” he hisses, already feeling arousal building up inside him. But he himself had no interest in putting any of this on pause. 

The details are irrelevant, but she’s gotten him up on his feet, her hand wrapped around his wrist, and dragging him along with her upstairs. Somewhere in Gojo’s hazed and horny mind, he swears he hears a familiar voice downstairs, one that makes his heart skip a beat in his chest, but Shoko’s busy pulling him into the dark hallway upstairs and eventually into the bathroom. 

Gojo closes the door behind him, watching as Shoko quickly hops up onto the counter, and it’s not long before she spreads her thighs for him to take his place in front of her and start kissing her. Her hands grab onto his shirt, impatient with the fabric, and he starts trailing kisses down her neck as she wraps her legs around his waist.

“Hey…” she sighs when his mouth reaches her collarbone, “d-did you lock the door?”

“Huh? Yeah, think so,” he mumbles against her skin, hand playing with the hem of her top.

Those were Gojo’s famous last words when the two of them suddenly heard the door open, hinges creaking, and in his periphery he sees that it’s opened almost half-way when the movement stops.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” a voice squeaks out and Gojo’s blood runs cold. He turns his head to face the entrance of the bathroom, and then he sees you. 

You, in your plain t-shirt and jeans, standing in the hallway with your hand wrapped around the doorknob, blinking as the recognition of his face registers in your mind. 

Gojo Satoru was never really the type of guy to be serious to just one woman. Yet for some reason, when he sees you staring at him with wide eyes, and with the faintest hint of hurt in your expression, what he was doing suddenly felt so wrong.

a/n. thanks soooo much for reading!

➸ take me to chapter five!

[thatbadadvice]

Dear Advisor,

I tend to be a very reserved and shy person so making friends is super hard. Recently I’ve been wanting to socialize more , but I genuinely don’t know how. Is there any advice that you have that can make me look more approachable and not be scared to talk to people. I’m so stressed about being alone and not having any friends, but I just find it so hard to go up to people and make a conversation. I tried once but it became super awkward. I just really need good advice from someone on how to approach a person and continue a conversation.

Dear Awkward Anonymous,

It would be so easy to get into a whole deep let's-skeetshoot-therapy-on-the-internet session and try to help a total stranger unpack all of the GA-FUCKING-ZILLION ways in which social awkwardness shows up in a person's life. It seems easy, and it even seems meaningful and worthwhile, but to do so I would have to presume a bunch about your life, and make a bunch of assumptions about the ways in which my own experiences maybe/probably track with yours, and it would be a whole big wank-fest, and frankly ... it would be awkward. I'd be like you, standing there at the party, hoping that what I'm saying resonates or lands or even vaguely tracks with anything a stranger has ever known or experienced, presuming (probably rightly!) that it doesn't, and then flailing and blaming myself when I didn't emerge from the interaction with all the world's gold stars.

So here's what: stop talking to other people as a primary social occupation. Going up to people and just talking is fucking terrifying. The Bad Advisor says this as a Certified Extrovert™ who rarely shuts the fuck up.

Instead, find a thing to do with other people that involves some sort of task or goal or activity. Talk about the thing you're doing together, when you're doing it. If it feels okay, maybe introduce one or two of your own relatable-to-the-activity experiences in the process. See who picks up on it. Ask the people who pick up on it genuinely interested questions in response. This is what we awkward people call: engineering a conversation. It is the way, I am told, humans make connections with other humans. I have seen it work in my own life.

Depending on where you live and your ability level and skill set, I bet you have some options! You could seek out an open board game night, pub quiz session, knitting/quilting circle, or mutual aid meetup that's looking for volunteers. Especially look for social activities with strangers that involve a dedicated, pre-prescribed activity (such as a hiking or mall-walking group, stuffing envelopes for a political candidate or cause you care about, planting trees at your local park, or tasting tea/wine/beer/etc.). (Somebody is going to say join a ballroom dancing club or suchlike; I am personally terrified of this, but if you have a higher tolerance for strangers touching you and fewer than two left feet: it's literally an option. Line-dancing, on the other hand ... absofuckinglutely.)

Even if what's available in your area isn't your precise and specific interest, it might be worthwhile to check out something you are decidedly meh about -- you might not be the only meh person there. You can bond over shit that's boring or shitty with other people who find it boring or shitty! Some of my best friends, arguably my very best friends, came out of experiences we mutually loathed or found at least moderately and mutually miserable.

Consider especially finding an activity where you yourself are the manager of operations and/or have a designated task to take care of that is unique to your position! This doesn't have to be complicated or skill-dependent; can you become a voter registrar in your area? Well, bam! You've got paperwork people have to fill out and a good reason to jibber-jabber with folks who have to ask you the questions. Other ideas: join your local neighborhood association board, become a notary public, or see if your local pet rescue is looking for intake line volunteers. Do you have a trustworthy, especially outgoing friend who might agree to play "social glue" for you a couple of times at their activity-centric events? Make it explicit! Ask them if they'll play friendly wing-person for you at their D&D game, fantasy sports league, or some such.

Alternately: Do you have a unique and fun and shareable skillset you can share with others? Are you pretty good at drawing, programming? Simply a font of endless Merlin or NFL or Real Housewives knowledge? You might start a local Discord or other online social group to discuss and share your interests, then move it to the real world in a few weeks once folks get comfortable. You get the idea.

Most of all: Look for stuff that has more-than-just-talking opportunities available outside the designated group jam for you to maintain connections. Perhaps a group chat, a Discord, a Slack, what-have-you, where you can take more time to consider and draft your responses and posts? Connections with humans get made a thousand ways, and talking raw-dog with strangers is but one.

It takes a true social unicorn to be simply good at talking and only talking to other people. There are some of these one-horned wonders out there, to be sure — but let me assure you that the vast majority of folks want to be accepted and seen just as much as you do, and they're staring at the ceiling at night thinking just as much (more, probably) about all the weird, wonky shit they themselves threw at you than they are anything you ever said to them.

[httpknjoon]

surprise, surprise | jjk

plot | When you asked what your boyfriend wants for Valentine's, Jungkook challenged you to surprise him. But when you did, he wasn't the only one surprised.

words | 2.1k+

genres | fluff,  secret relationship au, established relationship au, friends to lovers au

pairing | jungkook x reader

warnings | none

note | another part will follow :)) enjoy reading!

main masterlist  |  drabble series masterlist

It was a late afternoon, during a warm sunny day, you and your boyfriend finally went on with your picnic plans after weeks of talking about it. Under a lush shade tree, Jungkook laid out your classic red gingham picnic blanket. He also has pillows from his place, knowing that you would love to have one while chilling. On the flip side, you brought out the food from your basket which includes various colorful sliced fruits, sandwiches, chips, orange juice, and a bottle of chocolate syrup if ever your boyfriend wants to put it on his fruit.

It has been past an hour since you arrived at this spot in the park, half an hour away from the city you and Jungkook live in. So, with no worries about seeing your friends around, you two were free to basically do whatever you wanted on the grass. Jungkook brought his digital camera and you were already sure that half of the photos he took today are Bam’s. You were just giggling when you saw Jungkook trying to make your pet stand still with his green toy ball and sounds he learned from The Dogist, a dog photographer who posts every dog he meets online.

“One more, Bam. Stay…” he commanded as he closed his left eye to focus on his camera’s viewfinder. 

Your pet, eager to have a treat and his toy, heeded. Followed by a shutter sound, you hear a satisfied chuckle from your boyfriend. He handed Bam a treat and then threw the ball for your pet to run after.

“How was it?” you asked, sipping on your glass of orange juice.

Jungkook turned around in your direction and instead of answering immediately, you found him staring at you. Used to him dazing out sometimes, you just smiled and took another gulp from your glass. Jungkook took this opportunity to point his camera lens to you. He moved around, finding the best angle where the light makes you glow from your greenery background. You were an angel before his sight. He clicks for your candid shot. When you hear the first shutter sound, you realize what he is doing.

“Wait! Take another one.”

This time, you smiled for the camera, making him smile behind the lens. After a couple more shots, he sat next to you to show you the results. By the small sound of awe you made, he knew you loved them.

“You’re such a great photographer, babe,” you told him.

“I just have a very beautiful muse,” he replied.

You looked up at him and he laughed when he saw your eyebrows scrunching together. Perhaps it was too corny and sweet. But your scrunched expression softened up before giving him a peck on his lips. He was about to lean in for more but you pulled away with a smile.

“You used to get girls with those lines?” you teased and laughed.

And before Jungkook can defend his game, Bam runs back with his toy in between his teeth. Half an hour passed, and the camera was now in your hands while Jungkook lay his head on your lap, scrolling through his phone. Bam is napping on the grass beside you two, tired from playing. The weather was not too hot since there was still wind blowing from time to time, perfect for a midday nap. With no more energy to take pictures, you settled his camera down. For the next few minutes, you spent the time running your fingers on Jungkook’s hair and appreciating the peace of the place. You can feel your heart feeling at ease.

“I can’t believe we’re already in the second month of this year,” your boyfriend suddenly spoke, eyes still glued on his phone.

“I know, babe. It seemed like yesterday when we celebrated New Year’s Eve at Dara’s and our anniversary,” you replied. “Then, we told Blaire about us.”

He put down his phone with that, looking at you, “We didn’t tell her, you did.”

You just rolled your eyes since you know you cannot really defend yourself. You were too drunk that night, Jungkook had to tell you what you shared with your friend the morning after. And after a whole-day conversation with Blaire, she agreed to not say anything about it and simply called you two “sneaky rats” in a teasing way.

“Anyway, Valentine’s Day is next week.” Jungkook brought up the topic, sitting up. “Do you want to do anything or go anywhere?”

“Well… we already did this picnic.” you clicked your tongue as your eyes traveled away, thinking. 

And after a few seconds, an idea pops into your head. An activity you saw online that you found cute and perfect for you two. You beamed as you told him about it. Jungkook nodded as he listened intently, eyes traveling down his tattooed knuckles.

“I love that, we can do that! That’s wonderful, princess.” He smiled, eyes crinkling. “Do you already have any ideas about the design?”

You shook your head, “Oh, not yet.”

“Okay, okay.” he nods again,

You squeeze his hands, “How about you? What do you want to do?”

He looked up at the leaves on the tree as he sighed, “I don’t know… Really. That’s why I asked you. What you want is what really matters to me.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Really? Nothing?”

He nodded his head but not a second after, he spoke again, “Okay, I have an idea.”

“Okay, spill.” 

“Surprise me,” he said like it was a challenge.

“Surprise you?” you repeated.

Looking back at your relationship, you were a little weak at doing surprises. You cannot really lie well and always see his reaction when you get him something meant for a surprise. But maybe you can try again.

“Okay, babe.”

“Isn’t this sad?” Wooshik sighed in between the film playing on the television. “It’s the day before Valentine’s. We are both single straight guys, watching Meryl Streep boss around people because we don’t have any plans tomorrow,” he added.

I do, Jungkook said in his head. Today is the thirteenth. It has been days since you two went on that picnic and he has been secretly waiting for your surprise. You didn’t want to give him a spoiler about it since you both know how bad you are at lying. So, you didn’t give him even a single clue.

And since it’s the day before that day, you and the girls in your friend group went out for your Galentine’s Day. You told him your activities for the day, which included going to a baking class and pampering yourselves in hair and nail salons. So, in return, he and Wooshik are pretty much shooed away when the latter begs to come with them.

“It’s for girls only! Go hang out together,” Jenny laughed. 

So, they did. Initially, they planned on playing video games in Jungkook’s place. But after two hours of playing and having succeeding losses, they got exhausted and opted to watch a movie. The streaming service recommended a lot of chick-flicks so that’s what they settled for.

“This is fine. The girls are single too. A lot of people are spending tomorrow single.” he noted, focused on the film.

But Wooshik exclaimed, “But love is in the air! I don’t want to be lonely. Maybe we should pull up at a bar or something. Maybe we can have dates tomorrow.”

“I told you, I’m not into those things anymore.”

“Those things?! It’s called dating, JK. So you’re not into dating now?” Wooshik asked his tone in disbelief. Jungkook just laughed at his dramatic reaction. His friend continued, “What happened to my friend who used to introduce me to his new girlfriend every two weeks?”

Jungkook tossed him a pillow, smacking it right to his face, “Hey, people change!”

“You used to hold the record for most partners in a year in our friend group, JK.” Wooshik snickered.

“And now, I don’t. I’m happy where I am right now.” 

“Blablabla. That’s something a person with a great high-paying job or a nice love life would say. And I don’t think your job pays you that high for you to say that.” Wooshik quipped while watching the movie again.

Jungkook laughs. He’s right. But Wooshik is not aware of how fun he is having with you. Your friend doesn’t know how much you made his life more than nice. You made his days a lot more warmer and brighter than it has ever been.

“And the girls are not really single. Jenny said she will be busy tomorrow–”

“She is. She works as a head chef in a restaurant. Tomorrow is like a festival in her workplace.” Jungkook cuts him off. 

His friend snickered, “Okay, but she’s going on an occasional date with that same guy she met at a food convention. Blaire is having an on and off and on relationship with Grace. Dara is dating–”

“She is?” Jungkook asked.

Wooshik nods like it’s something he has known for a long time, “Yeah… and YN, I just know that one is seeing someone.”

Something in his stomach dropped when Jungkook heard that, “Yeah?”

“Remember when I stayed for like a week in her house when I had something renovated in my place? I swore I saw her sneaking out a guy one early morning.” his friend shared, clueless about the guy who was now sitting in front of him.

“Are you sure?” Jungkook asked.

“Yeah, I just didn’t see him properly since the lights were off. But I heard YN talking to him.” 

Yeah, it’s him. 

Not wanting to talk about it anymore, Jungkook said, “You know what? Maybe we should go out.”

It’s like Wooshik’s ears perked up when heard that, “Where?”

“Just out. Maybe get something to eat or… I saw this new bowling alley opening up around the corner. We can walk there from here.”

Originally, Jungkook wanted to take you there first. But with his best friend being bored and talking about you and your relationship, he just thought of going to that place.

“Oh, okay. Maybe fate can find me a date there.”

Jungkook chuckled, getting up, “Okay, I’ll just take a quick shower. Then, we can go.”

Wooshik nodded and Jungkook walked away. Left alone in the living room, Wooshik reached for the almost-finished bowl of chips on the center table. He rarely watched chick flicks but he really liked this one. Maybe because of the lead actress. But nonetheless, he enjoys the story.

“I just don’t get why she has to leave her great job for Nate. I mean, he did not even support her when she was having growth in her work and she was in Paris!” Wooshik exclaimed as the screen showed Anne Hathaway walking away from her boss, portrayed by Meryl Streep.

The credits were rolling in when he heard the knock on the door. He was about to call his friend when he heard the distant trickling from his shower. Wooshik got up and opened the door, dusting off the cheese powder from the chips. A delivery guy stood in front of the door, holding a box of pretty flower arrangements.

“Delivery for Jeon Jungkook.” the guy said.

Confused, Wooshik had his mouth slightly open before answering, “Oh… uh, he’s in the shower. But I can receive this for him.”

“Okay. Please, sign here.”

The guy handed him a paper and Wooshik followed. After the flowers were handed to him, he said thank you and closed the door. His eyes scanned the whole arrangement filled with various flowers. A white folded card sat on top of it. As he carefully placed it down on the table, one question stayed in his head.

Who the hell would send flowers to his best friend?

So just like what any nosy, curious person would do, Wooshik flicked the card open.

Blooms for the best person I know. 

I was with B in the flower shop and he helped me pick the flowers. I hope you’ll love them.

Know that this is the first of other surprises I’ve planned for tomorrow ;)

But firstly, let me ask you for the first time,

Babe, will you be my Valentine?

-Princess

Princess? Who the hell is Princess? Who is B? Is B a person? Did his friend have a baby and didn’t know it?

“Hey, let’s g– Oh, where did that come from?”

Jungkook came in, hair damp. His eyes land on the bouquet of flowers. Wooshik is frozen in place. His hand is still holding the card as he stares at him.

His eyes gradually squinted, “Who is Princess, and why is she sending you flowers?”

TAGLIST (closed)

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[scary-lasagna]

Can we have fluff headcanons of the slender mansion?

General fluff HCs

Family nights!

Although cheesy, the manor residents do their best to coordinate a night off together.

It can either be a game night, a movie night, a night at the nearby lake, or a night outdoors by the bonfire and a projector.

It’s always well coordinated, and creeps will take turns planning everything out.

Even Eyeless Jack, the manor's black cat persona, has a scheduled date for his planned event.

(It's cookie decorating).

Sleepovers are also common.

Jeff and Ben practically live in each other's rooms and will commonly sleep over either in the same bed or one of them is pushed onto the floor.

Sally might crawl into bed with Jane, and the proxies are reputable for corralling into Tim's room unannounced at 2 a.m. for a sleepover.

Speaking of Tim, if he believes someone needs something, he'll just throw shit at people.

Has Helen been in the studio all day? BAM! Goldfish cracker packet to the face.

And Helen regularly paints pictures of residents and candid moments around the manor.

It's an artform to walk the halls and notice a painting of Jeff holding his (non-existent) boobs with heart-shaped glasses on, and Ben beside him with a '#1 Dad' hat on.

[spiceofvy]

🐙honestly dude I'm just making a little pile of ideas for you to choose from at this point. This one is significantly more outlandish. Feel free to return to sender *forgot to check the rules on crossovers

Jungkook. Felix. Reader. Thruple. Poly group? Definitely a relationship a la threesome. In "subtle thing BTS do for crush" Jungkook steals crush's stuff. In "Stray Kids:reader is taller" Felix steals Reader's clothes. Bunch of soviet's honestly.

Anyway I figured Reader would be a noncomforming male anyway and a little taller than 5'7"Felix but still shorter than 5'10"Jungkook.

Main prompt is basically Reader and their two romantic but kleptomaniac men. Headcanon the shit of that, please?

Kooklix Throuple Headcanons

Jungkook x Reader x Felix

cw: no gendered terms but i wrote this with a masc!reader in mind, sfw + nsfw, mostly soft, lots of fluff

SFW:

The three of you are the most amazing parents for Bam. But be careful when Felix is alone with him because he loves to spoil that pup rotten, and Jungkook tries his best to train Bam but he is too weak to go through with it, so you need to be the strict parent every now and then.

Your life is filled with so much laughter. So much silly joy and wholesome fun. Just smiles and gentleness everywhere. Honestly it's just really wholesome.

But there are also so many uncensored emotions. Just openly feeling things around each other. If joy or sadness, there is no need to be apologetic about it. So instead the three of you embrace this openness. And are free to feel things together.

Those two are the founders of the cuddle pile. The more direct skin contact the better. I hope you don't tend to run hot because one of them is always snuggling up to you. And feeling always brinks blankets (and Bam probably joined at one point too)

So much support. No matter how big or small the occasion is, you are always each other's cheerleaders. Those two also love to take you wherever they go, but if they can't expect tons of selfies of our fashion boys.

Gaming together is the biggest mess ever. Felix going all in, being sweaty as hell and Jungkook tagging along, just having fun trolling the enemies. I hope you enjoy playing support because those two will need it.

They both really love to keep something of each other and of yours with them, especially when they go on tour. Little trinkets, plushies or pieces of clothing. Whatever. And in turn they also always put something of theirs in your suitcase whenever you go on a trip.

The three of you host all the parties! And they are always hits. No matter if they are dinner parties, karaoke parties or the type of parties where you find glitter in your kitchen and people on your couch the next day, everyone loves them. Especially the two social butterflies you get to call your boyfriends.

The three of you have definitely shared animal crossing islands or stardew Valley farm, or anything of that kind. It is a sweet little thing, until someone decides to take your loot. Because even if it's digital, they still don‘t know what private ownership is.

And you guys definitely send out cheesy self made christmascards. The kind where you all dress up in matching ugly sweaters and pose in front of a lit fireplace. Bam is probably dressed up too.

You also always have a front row seat for their shared dance or workout sessions. They both love to train together and you can just enjoy the abs i mean show. But they not only love bonding together but also love to show off to you.

Both of them love selfies. Especially all three of you together. But they love taking candids even more. Expect folders of folders filled with candid of each other, all of them sent to your group chat, geeking out about each other. They are so smitten and you are too.

You get to live in such a supportive household. The two of them are so excited for everything you do. Especially when it comes to you leaning into your more gender-non-conforming side. Felix being a unisex icon himself is an obvious cheerleader for you, but Jungkook also loves to see you try out new things and loves to break boundaries too. The two of them love to watch you as you try on new clothes or new aspects of your identity and they love to support your ideas.

Junkgkook loves to flex that he needs no english tutor because he has you and Felix who talk english to him and give him english lessons. But lets be honest, you don‘t give him actual lessons, he just speaks his cute english to you and you and Felix are totally smitten for him.

When you guys are apart you definitely have planned group video calls dates. It's a fun thing you do to just enjoy time with each other, and you love the time you get together thanks to those dates.

NSFW:

Both of them have crazy stamina in bed and you have the choice between just laying there and taking what they give you. Don‘t worry about reciprocating, they are both service tops and love to spoil you rotten.

But the two are switches at heart so you can have all the freedom you want with them. Including them bottoming or being subs for you. And they are such obedient little sweethearts.

No sex when Bam is in the room or anywhere close to it. End of discussion.

Super soft making up sex after the slightest misunderstanding. Filled with so many compliments and apologies and promises of undying love. Those two tend to feel emotions really intensely so they are also both very serious about making it back up.

Cuddling is aftercare and foreplay, sometimes both at the same time.

Both of them liking to watch and being watched. And they are so pretty together, such a nice show. Especially when you speak up and compliment them while they are at it. They immediately turn into mush. In turn neither of them mind watching you and one of them. But no one else is allowed to look, it always stays between the three of you.

On their formerly long hair, both of them love having it played with/pulled, but please be careful if Felix just got his bleached. He has a sensitive scalp.

[sterekchub]

Derek as a fitness influencer and Stiles as one of those guys who makes ridiculous food challenges like a giant butterfinger bar or something…and Derek ends up on Stiles’s show eating his creations.

Oooh. This gives "hanging out with Stiles made me fat" and "How did I end up as the fattest one?!" Derek is the fitness influencer who has never actually struggled a day in his life to stay fit or thin. He posts the videos that are easy for werewolves, almost impossible for any humans who are dedicated gym gurus, and has the opinion of "I'm not putting anything into my body that isn't nutritious and fresh" and comes across like he thinks anyone who isn't TRYING to get fit is doing something terribly wrong. Stiles is not above admitting the man is still hot, but he at least mutes his workout videos when he jerks off to them. He doesn't need to be fat-shamed, when Stiles' brand is....straddling that line between being an obvious gainer and just making food content. He makes the crazy food challenges for his video, takes a few bites and BAM. Video done. Except Stiles is never one to waste food (and most of his food challenges look pretty damn good) so he normally eats the entire thing anyway while he's editing the videos. Which makes him the perfect candidate for someone from Derek's PR team to reach out to about a 'collab'. Which is code for- Derek wants to make an example out of Stiles, bark at him like a drill sergeant from a porno until Stiles sheds the weight, and get more content. Stiles isn't stupid. He's not going to be in any of Derek's videos, if Derek isn't in his. It ends up as a huge disaster. For Derek. Stiles refuses to stick to ANY diet plan. Grabs lunch with Derek and makes a big show about ordering the fattiest thing on the menu, taking a forkful of carbonara like he's having an orgasm. Derek snaps at him and swaps their plates, insists Stiles would like salads if he actually gave them a try. Stiles doesn't finish the salad. Derek finishes the entire plate of pasta. In the gym? It's unusable content. Stiles is whining and bitching and gives up through an exercise because "fat guys don't run, Derek. It's a proven fact." and mostly there's a lot of hate sex in the locker room as Derek is grabbing Stiles' love handle and pulling him up against a wall, growling that he doesn't understand why he's being so difficult. It's like Stiles likes having all this excess weight making him waddle around. (Stiles insisting he doesn't waddle is cut off by a strangled moan and Derek running his teeth against Stiles inner thigh) For Stiles? Energetic sex like that is the most he's worked out in ages. Derek? Is getting barely any workout because so much of his time is dedicated to trying to get Stiles into shape. annnnnd then come the videos he owes Stiles. Where Stiles a few times has to poke Derek and remind him "Come on, what sort of bite was that?! A little bit of sugar and cream isn't going to hurt anyway." It's mostly to prove a point to Stiles. To get back at him for the pigtail pulling, stubborn complains in the gym. So Derek tries to beat Stiles at his own game, decide he's going to eat the entire damn thing. Eats the butter finger bar the same length and thickness as his forearm, and then somehow stumbles into his apartment with the most achingly full middle he's ever had and can't figure out why he's hard. So what starts as Derek showing Stiles he's going to give his 100%, so Stiles should do the same...ends up with Derek eating the food challenges like he's training to be a competitive eater. Challenges which Stiles goes out of his way to make bigger and bigger. The video views get higher and higher, enough that Derek doesn't feel so badly taking a break from his own content (mostly because he doesn't feel like going to the gym when he's still sluggish and bloated from the "Multi layer pies" video the day before.) Stiles knows his audience - and his new followers all want one thing- to watch the jock go from fit to fat.

[madeinjapan-thailand-blbambeyond]

MCF: MADE IN THAILAND

SUPHAKORN SRIPHOTHONG

[Nickname: POD]

[ask-the-curtis-gang]

sooooo pre-darry interrogation gotta see what all of you have made excuses for plan on saying to him

> how was your guys' night last niiiighttt

> what's all this mess on the floooorr

> what's wrong with those guys facessss...

> where did this thing go and why is that stuff over thereeee...

the least you can all do is make up something actually smart before he comes and beats each and one of your asses

and quite frankly I'm kind of hoping he does 💀

ok well one. rude. trust we've got a handle on this we've been lyin makin stuff up coverin for ok maybe there's no good way to put this. uh. look we'll breeze through this no problem. Steve. bam. you're up. (huh oh yeah no worries man look. last night? oh real quiet man. house felt kinda empty so two n Johnny n I stayed over. watched a couple westerns?) (n the car young man?) (damn you're a lil too good at soundin grown soda) (eh hem) (sorry. of course. Jesus dar I wanted to call ya but I didn't wanna bug ya cause I knew you'd be busy n I didn't want ya to worry but some knucklehead came rippin down the road in the middle of the night last night playin mailbox baseball n fuckin creamed my car door. I wanted to go straight out n jump em but Soda didn't want none of us gettin into trouble) (ooh nice touch ya make me good look good stevie) (my best talent) (BLEUGH) (well alright wise guy you're up next. what's all this mess huh?) (aw dar were real sorry about that. soda was bakin last night n it got kinda messy. yknow. havin six hands in the kitchen ain't the best idea) (damn I knew I kept ya around for a reason pone HA) (wow soda n here I was thinkin ya kept me around cause ya loved me or somethin) (well that too HA) (alright alright whose explainin the piercin's. someone's gotta go down for that I think ain't no wormin that) (I got it. needles were properly sanitized n I washed my hands I swear n were real sorry n real bored) (I hate to say you're the best candidate. dar ain't gonna tear a strip off your ass like he'd do for us ha) well. I think that clears it all up right? HA. see we'll do JUST fine. Dar ain't gotta know nothin! (I ain't gotta know what?) (AUGH!!)

[bibuckaroo]

so i made the outline of my khunbam fanfic with female!khun au and i’m so excited!!! what i have for now:

• khun as a jahad princess because i always headcanoed that if he had been born female, khun would’ve been the obvious choice to become a princess, because his older sister relied on him and maria became a princess because of him. but if he had the chance, why would he help anybody else if he could become a princess? i mean he already has the beauty, the brains and the right family and now he has the gender!!

• bam as a slayer candidate who does know all his friends already and that is why he’s working for fug (i’m trying not to change his story so much, but obviously there will be major changes because he won’t have khun with him to certain moments all his life)

• i think it will have around 8 chapters, trust.

• it is inspired on taylor swift’s songs (of course it is, have you met me?) because i only had the idea of this au listening to but daddy i love him and it makes soooo much sense, also i created a playlist for it!!

• besides having enemies to allies to friends to lovers in it, it is also a you’ve got mail au and it will work out beautifully (in my head at least).

[spicyrouletteburrito]

Am I gonna finally make a post analyzing Bam’s character? Maybe

I’ve actually been wondering cuz there was exactly one time I decided to check out Naver/the korean ver of TOG and the comments were: probably the cruelest I’ve seen? It felt like a cesspool of hate where everyone was complaining about something or the other and it was so bad that I was legit thinking how on earth does SIU continue writing if all his comments r about how awful his writing of Bam is or how everyone only wants to see Khun and that they dont care about the effort he puts into his art

But anyway after reading that Ive been thinking for months that I want to actually sit down and study Bam’s character a bit as a fuck you to all the hate

I do have some issues with his character which I def talk about below but i can assure you Im not gonna be just hating on him

Actually this is gonna be really long so I’m just gonna start linking them in different posts

Spoilers for anyone not caught up on the webtoon

Lets talk about the positives first or like moments where it felt like Bam really is putting his money where his mouth is

He’s choosing to ignore FUG’s fate for him and chooses paths that will keep his loved ones closest to him - I think its incredibly admirable that he does this knowing that FUG’s goal is to overthrow someone who in the Tower’s eyes is hindering growth, is needlessly cruel(Workshop Battle Reflejo remember losing his eyes and his family just for accidentally(or not) looking at a Princess comes to mind, Traumarei wiping out entire branches of his family if he didnt like them), is a tyrant(Idk what else to call Jahad after that whole thing w the Hidden Grove and Sir u cannot just ‘declare’ urself King one day and then start killing people when they disagree). Back to Bam, its incredible and I think a good thing to show of someone choosing a path of their own than just listening to the cries of people who as even Urek said, have nothing to do with him. That sounds horribly cruel but hear me out: Bam doesnt know ANYTHING about the Tower when FUG takes him, what he knows is that his friends are being held captive and FUG is behind it, FUG is doing this because they cant kill Jahad themselves. I am beyond 10000000% certain that if they had just explained to Bam from the start and never put his friends on the line that Bam would have been happy to help them fight Jahad. We have seen Bam go out of his way to help characters for no reason beyond his own sense of compassion and empathy(literally the entirety of Tower of God/Bam sticking his neck out for Traumarei and Gustangs family members and telling the heads to stop fucking with their families lives) those families asked for help but note that none of them were holding Bam’s friends as hostages. Laura Lo Po Bia just ASKED for help, she didnt do anything to pressure Bam to help(if I remember correctly). If you want another example we can just look at Bam vs White in the Hell train w Bam saving Whites comrades.

If FUG hadn’t fucked w Bam’s friends, they WOULD have had a willing Slayer Candidate but they didnt.

I like that Bam walked away from Fug after knowing why he was being forced to train under them as I read it as Bam leaving his abusers behind. CUZ THATS LITERALLY WHAT FUG DID TO HIM, Bams whole fucking personality changed thanks to FUG, he himself hates the ver of himself that FUG turned him into. I dont think I need to elaborate on that, we got the Hidden Floor arc to prove it. I point this out is cuz a thing abusers do is raise the stakes so you feel morally obligated to stay, eg: abusers trapping women by forcing them to get and stay pregnant saying that its best for the Child. What FUG was doing was essentially that in part so Bam choosing to leave and fight to leave is an incredible showing of fighting for your freedom even when your abusers keep making it sound like ur the worst person alive for leaving. Also, they took Bam and clearly dont touch Urek, they took Bam who was literally brand new to the tower, had no time to assess the Tower for himself and make even his own fking personality, they literally took Bam at his most vulnerable AND impressionable for a reason. Bam was weak and didnt know how hsi powers worked, he’s kinda perfect for the job, you dont see them doing anything like this with Urek because they know it would not work with him. Bam was kinda the perfect victim, so yeah I think Bam rejecting FUG is fking perfect even if it does come at the price of the Tower staying under Jahads reign, you do not solve abuse with MORE abuse, ESP when there WAS a way to get Bam to naturally help.

Bam leaving FUG was one of the strongest displays of his Values and I will die on this hill okay?!

Anyway thats enough FUG bashing lmao FUG is still cool but yeah theyre real fucked up

Once I have other posts out I’ll link them together(i also gotta learn how to do that)