#then you can work thru some of that shit WITH yourself

[2leggedshark]

I'm thinking about selfcest again

[hausofwoo]

graphic | mark lee

pairing: mark lee x afab reader

word count: 6.6K

summary: stuck in the monotony of your job at the mall, every day feels the same: opening the store, sitting behind the register, and counting the hours til close. you've even memorized the routines of the stores around you. but when a new guy starts at the comic book store across the way, you realize your predictable days may soon change.

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, comic book store employee!mark, retail employee!reader, really cute and fluffy until it's not, public sex (public space but no one is there), unprotected piv (DONT DO THIS), mark throws u around like a lil play thing, oral (fem recieving), fingering, use of a petname (baby), lmk if i forgot anything!

author's note: this one took forever yall i know its been a while! been going thru some shit irl but things are settling and i was deadset on finishing this bc it's so cute :'-) thank u to T and @hausofmingi for being my beta readers ( ˘ ³˘)♡

working at a mall can be really tiring, but it’s not so bad when you have a crush.

you’ve been working at a retail store at your local mall for a few months now. it’s boring, there’s too many people on the weekends, and you have the worst hours. you found yourself working open to close for far too many shifts. but at the end of the day, at least it keeps the bills paid.

on slow days during the week, you’re always sat at the register, scrolling through your phone or twiddling your thumbs, counting down the seconds til closing time. sometimes you would even stare off into space, watching people pass by all day long.

you went to work always knowing exactly how the day would go; set up shop, maybe help some customers, and do fucking nothing for 8 to 10 hours. maybe a wave to the employees at the stores surrounding you, but sadly, that was usually the most interesting part of your day. you became accustomed to the monotony though, watching the same employees open up their shops next to yours.

the store directly across from yours is a comic book store. you know the few people that worked there, usually just saying “good morning” and going on with your day. you swear, you have this store memorized, knowing when the employees take their breaks, who’s working, what they’re working on that day. you didn’t really mean to, but when all you have to do is daydream, you kinda picked up on the routine there.

so when you arrive in the morning for yet another brutal open-to-close shift, you expect to just roll up the security shutters and sit back at the register all day. but there’s something different today; or rather, someone different.

sitting at the register at the comic book store is a man you’ve never seen before. his hair is perfectly messy and his glasses framed his eyes, which are focused on reading a comic. he’s working all by himself, which is surprising to you since you’re certain he’s new. you catch yourself staring and try to brush it off. he’s a new guy, so what?

you try your best to go about your day as normal, but you can’t help stealing glances over at the man at the store across from you. he has a captivating energy, and it makes you want to know more about him. he seems charismatic, being friendly with customers and earning smiles, then resuming his doodling once they leave. you notice that when he looks really focused, he bites the corner of his lip gently.

you gotta stop staring, or he will definitely notice. you decide to actually work on something for once, organizing the stock and straightening the shelves. soon enough, closing time creeps up on you. you do all of your closing duties and grab your things from the back. you close the security shutters, looking behind you quickly to see that the man is doing the same. he notices your gaze, so you kindly wave at him. instead of a wave back, blush forms on his face with a shy smile. and with that, he walks away.

the interaction was unreadable. he seemed to be so extroverted with customers, having no issue having casual conversations with them. why is he getting all shy now?

you started to pick up on the new routine at the comic book store. from what you could tell, the man worked similar hours to you, often opening and closing too. he rarely worked with anyone else, so the majority of the time you glanced over, he was reading comics, manga, or doodling in his notepad.

you never really got into comic books like that, and only dabbled with reading manga, but the growing interest in this man made you curious about learning more on what he was reading. maybe it wouldn’t hurt to check out the selection? perhaps get some recommendations? you just finished a short shift today so now was the perfect opportunity.

after grabbing your things and saying goodbye to your coworker, you make your way over to the comic book store. you approach the man, who’s sitting at the register as usual, reading. you see his name tag on his chest; a cute red pin with a spider-man drawing next to his name, “mark.”

“hi,” you say, pulling his attention away from reading.

“oh, hi,” he says, placing his comic down. “sorry, i didn’t see you come in.”

“it’s okay,” you reply, looking around at the goodies at the register. “i was wondering if you have any recommendations for a beginner at reading comics?”

“oh for sure,” he says, eyes lighting up. “marvel has tons of great ones. you could start with an ironman one, or maybe captain america? i personally like spider-man, but i’m definitely biased.”

“i’ll try spider-man,” you say after a beat.

mark gives you a nod with a warm smile before leaving the register to grab your comic. he searches through the spider-man section until he finds the first issue. he returns to the register, ringing you up.

“i think you’ll like it, it’s really good,” mark says, handing your receipt to you.

“i’m definitely looking forward to see what all the hype is about,” you chuckle. the conversation pauses for moment, clearly indicating that the interaction is pretty much over with. but you don’t want the conversation to end there, so you find something to keep talking about. “you’re new here, aren’t you? like you just started working here?”

“yeah, sort of,” he says, sitting back in his seat at the register. “i used to work here a while ago and i just came back ‘cause they needed someone.”

“oh nice,” you reply. “welcome back i guess?”

“haha, i guess,” he smiles, rubbing his hand on his neck. “it’s chill here, but it gets kinda boring.”

“tell me about it,” you chuckle. “it’s so slow during the week. i usually have nothing to do.”

“yeah, i just read or draw to pass the time,” mark says, pointing at his notepad on the counter.

“you like to draw?” you ask, curious.

“yeah,” he places a hand on the notepad, grabbing it. you can tell he’s getting shy again. “it’s just doodles.”

“you’ll have to show me some of those ‘doodles’ sometime,” you say with a sweet smile. you check your phone for the time. it’s getting closer to dinnertime and you’re starved. “i guess i’ll get out of here.”

“okay,” he stands again. “well, let me know what you think of the comic.”

“i will,” you say, turning to leave, then flipping back to look at him. “mark, right?”

he nods, asking for your name as well. he beams at you. “it’s nice to meet you. see you tomorrow?”

“see you tomorrow,” you say with a wave, walking out.

for the next week, you find yourself aching to talk to mark again. you read the comic he gave you, and it provided a little bit of insight into him… that he’s a bit of a nerd. definitely not a bad thing. it’s actually really endearing to you, knowing his life basically revolves around superheroes, free time and work alike. that he probably draws little comics in his notepad, and has sweet dreams about being superhuman. why is that so fucking cute?

you have a reason to talk to him again, of course: the next issue of spider-man. the problem is building up the courage again, which is ridiculous because he’s just a guy. a nerdy one at that, and you know that he would be putty in your hands if you really wanted him to be. but the longing you developed for him during those long hours of your shift, seeing him across the way, looking so cute in his round glasses… it’s making you nervous in a way that is difficult to explain.

you’ve been putting off going back to his store at this point. wouldn’t someone that wanted to get into superhero comics come back for the next edition? why aren’t you using your excuse to talk to him? not only that, but he even said he wanted you to come tell him what you thought of the comic. you’re just overthinking things.

you have another short shift one day, and decide today is the day. you gather your things and walk to the neighboring store, feeling the familiar butterflies you felt the first time you approached mark at the register. he’s drawing this time, crouched down and focused. he hears you walk in, lifting his head to meet your eyes. maybe you’re crazy, but it looks like his eyes light up.

“hey,” he says, closing the notepad in front of him. you present the spider-man comic to him, and he flashes a smile at you. “what’d you think?”

you chuckle, holding the comic close to your chest. “it was good, but too short. there’s another issue, right?” you joke, hoping it lands.

he lets out a giggle, “yeah, there definitely is. i’ll grab the next one for you.”

he walks over to a section near the front of the store, flipping through the excess of papers before he finds the 2nd issue. “if you liked that one, you’ll like this one even more.” he returns to the register with the issue, placing it on the counter for you.

“duel to the death with the vulture?” you read from the page. “i haven’t seen any of the movies recently so correct me if i’m wrong, but i don’t remember there being a vulture.”

“oh yeah, he’s in one of the later movies actually,” mark starts. “but you got a long way to go til you finally meet one of the iconic villians like the green goblin, or even the love interests gwen stacy or mary jane. it’ll be so worth the wait though.”

“how much do i owe you?” you ask, already pulling out your wallet.

“you can borrow it if you want,” he says.

“but this one belongs to the store, won’t you get in trouble?” you ask.

“just bring it back and it’s like it never happened,” he whispers, faking a shhh at you. “let’s just say it’s mall employee perk.”

you smile and accept it.

your new routine feels like a nice change of pace. every second of every day used to drag by, and yet at the same time, when you got home, everything that happened was so unbelievably boring that it all felt like a blur. nothing really significant happened to you. but something about trying something new, learning about a brand new niche interest, and even developing a crush… it’s finally something exciting.

you looked forward to the next time you got a new issue. not just that, but the next time you got to talk to mark. he has this charm about him that piqued your interest. it feels so easy to talk to him, as if you’ve already known each other for a long time and it isn’t just a budding friendship. you’d find yourself stopping by the comic book store a few times a week, anticipating the next comic and the underlying tension between you and mark.

like today, when you finally got off of work after a long shift. you were able to close up shop quickly and now you’re walking over to the comic book store, attempting to run in before mark locked up.

“hey, is it cool if i get the next issue real quick?” you ask, popping your head in the store.

“yeah, one sec,” he says, looking up from counting the cash in the register. “lemme just finish closing up the register.”

“are you implying that you’re gonna let me borrow another comic?” you ask, a flirty tone floating beneath.

“well of course,” he says, swiftly closing the cash drawer. “unless you want to start collecting, which by the way, SUPER expensive.”

“i think i’ll stick to being a casual reader for now,” you joke, approaching mark at the register.

“i don’t know, you might change your mind after this one,” he says, grabbing a comic from his bag. he holds it out to you, you grabbing it with your fingers briefly brushing past his. the motion makes you feel a little dizzy, and you can feel heat rising to your cheeks.

you shake your head, realizing this one doesn’t belong to the store. “wait, is this your own personal comic?”

“yeah, it’s one of my favorites,” he says, half focusing as he’s writing something on a sticky note at the counter. “i brought it in so you can borrow it.” you can see the corner of his mouth turning up, as if he’s trying to hold back a smile.

“you didn’t have to do that—”

“i wanted to,” he says, lifting his head up to hand you the sticky note he was writing on. “just treat it with care.”

you take the note, which is pale blue with a cartoon spider-man in the corner. in the middle of the note is a scrawled out phone number. you look up to see mark rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“if you want to tell me what you think?” he says, almost like a question.

“or maybe when i get bored during my shift?” you ask, chuckling.

“i’d like that a lot actually,” he smiles, his previous nervousness quickly washing away.

“you’ll regret it though,” you say, sticking the note on the front page of the comic. “because i get bored here a lot.”

“don’t worry,” mark laughs, shaking his head. “i don’t think i’ll get sick of you anytime soon.”

you finally reached issue #14 of spider-man, the one mark is lending to you. you grab it out of your bag at the beginning of your shift, sitting back in your chair behind the register and getting comfortable. you realize what it’s about and immediately text mark.

sent 10:17 am omg wait i didn’t realize this issue is the first appearance of the green goblin

you look across the way, seeing mark pick up his phone and smiling.

sent 10:18 am mark: oh yeah, he’s fuckin sick mark: you’re gonna love it

you click your phone off with a soft sigh, flipping back to your comic. you go about your shift switching from helping customers and checking them out, and reading. every once and a while, you’ll message mark with your comments and he would always reply with enthusiasm.

the end of your shift approaches quickly, and soon enough you’re closing the security shutters. you look behind you to see mark locking the doors and then doing the same. he must’ve felt your eyes on him, because he turns and flashes his famous smile to you. you walk over to him with the comic in hand.

“you were right,” you say, handing it him. “green goblin is super sick.”

“i told you,” he says, reaching for it, and your hands momentarily touching like last time. he gets flustered. “uh, i can give you the next one tomorrow if you’re working.”

“i am, yeah,” you reply, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “i am so curious though—when the hell does gwen stacy show up?”

“oh,” he giggles to himself. “you’re like, halfway there to finally seeing her.”

“i didn’t realize how extensive this series is,” you chuckle. “not that i’m complaining. i’m actually surprised by how much i like it.”

“i’m glad,” he says sweetly. “well, just come by tomorrow and i’ll give you the next issue.”

“i will.”

the following weeks, you became overtaken by superhero comics and stupid-fucking-adorable mark. you would read an issue of spider-man at work, and text mark with your reactions to certain scenes. at first you thought it might be annoying to him, but he actually seemed to encourage it, asking for your opinions on the characters and storyline.

it doesn’t help that every time you see mark, you get butterflies in your stomach. and it seemed to only be getting worse; you keep finding yourself smiling when his name pops up on your phone. you wake up excited to go to work, because you know you’ll probably have another interaction with him. sometimes, mark would even catch you staring at him and give a little nod with a smile. but what made things exponentially worse was when you catch him gazing at you too, catching you off guard but making a smile spread across your lips. you are smitten, and if anyone else was concerned, mark is probably smitten too. the issue is getting him to finally take the hint and making a real move on you.

he may get a little flustered around you, but he’s not exactly shy. after all, he did give you his number unprompted. but after weeks of going back and forth strictly talking about comics and work, you started to lose hope. you just want him. he must want you back just as bad.

after another closing shift, you watch the mall-goers pass by and file out of the building. the mall is basically empty now, most of the neighboring stores already closed and employees leaving for the day. you had to stay a little bit late, cleaning up a huge mess in the store from some rude customers. you thought you would have time to stop by to see mark, but with the amount of things you have to put away, your chances are looking slim.

you shuffle around the store, placing items back on the shelves and organizing the tables of merchandise. you eyes shift over to the comic book store, expecting to see it dark and locked up. but it isn’t; mark is still in there, half the lights still on, with him unboxing comics from their latest shipment. you already knew it was restock day for them (god you have way too much free time), but you didn’t realize how many boxes they got in.

you open the front door of your store, whisper-yelling through the security shutters. “mark!”

mark’s head turns to look at you and flashes a grin at you. “yo, you’re still here too?”

you nod, leaning on the glass door. you hold up a few of the displaced items in your hands. “go-backs,” you shrug.

he points at the pile of boxes in front of him, “restock. we got a lot of shit in early for christmas.”

“don’t say christmas please, i don’t want to think about it yet,” you say with a laugh.

you turn away to get back to work, putting all the merchandise back to their assigned spots. you don’t know what the hell got into people today; messing up all your organization you’ve done and putting things in all the wrong places. it didn’t help that you had to deal with some assholes with returns today too. you always theorize it’s from a full moon or mercury retrograde or something; those things must be the reason people start acting up.

after about an hour of cleaning, you finish up and can finally call it a day. you close up shop and turn to see mark still working on stocking at his store. you approach the security gate of the store, with its front door still propped open.

“i still need my next issue by the way,” you say to mark, who stands from his crouching position in front of an open box. he walks up to the gate and pushes it up, just enough for you to come through. you look hesitant.

“come in, it’s okay,” he says, motioning you in. you duck under the security gate, slipping into the store. “how was your day? looks like you had a lot to do.”

“yeah, the store was a mess,” you say, following him to the register. “i’ve never had to stay so late after close.”

“it’s only gonna get worse the closer it gets to christmas,” mark says while weaving around the boxes with you.

“what did i say about christmas?” you joke, nudging his shoulder softly.

“sorry, sorry,” he laugh, putting his hands up. you wait patiently for him as he kneels behind the register, looking for your comic. he pops back up with a stumped look on his face. “i swear i thought i put it up here to give to you but i can’t find it. i’m gonna go check the back.”

he starts walking to the back room, and looks back at you. “feel free to sit if you want. our stockroom is a wreck, this might take a sec.”

you nod to him, squeezing past the tower of boxes to sit in the chair at the register. it feels kinda funny to sit back here, like you’re seeing the store from a different perspective, from mark’s perspective. you look around behind the counter, seeing the little notes and cute super-hero knick knacks gathered around.

there’s a mini batman funko pop positioned in the corner, with a sticky note placed under his feet reading “no drinks at the register.” you look over to see a large iced coffee with mark’s name in sharpie. well, we all bend the rules a bit. his name tag is placed on the counter by a stack of comics. you grab it to take a closer look. it’s a plastic red pin with a white pop-art bubble. in the corner is a small piece of paper stuck on it, attached with office tape. on the paper is a spider-man doodle, made with red and blue marker and pen ink.

you’re sure this must’ve been drawn by mark. you have yet to see any of his drawings (despite your prying), so maybe seeing this one up close will give you a sneak peek into his style. it’s a little messy, with scratchy lines and colors bleeding outside the borders. despite that, it has a distinct style that you’re fond of. it’s not perfect, let alone does it look like the super-heroes you’ve been reading in your comics. but it has a quality to it that feels less polished and flat. it has character. the messiness makes it feel more… real.

you set his name tag down, placing it back next to the large stack of comics. these must be his go-backs. he’s been so wrapped up with his shipment he probably hasn’t had time to put them away. you think maybe it would be nice to help a bit. he’s been nice enough to let you borrow comics from the store, and you’re just waiting around after all.

you pick up the stack of comics, situating them into your arms, when you look down and see that under the stack is mark’s notepad. it’s not closed like you’re used to seeing it, opened to a clean white page with a drawing covering up a majority of it. it’s in a comic book style, you’re not surprised. but it has the same quality that his name tag doodle does; scrawly and messy, with no real precise lines. the colors are splashed across the page, with blotches of scribbled colored marker decorating it. then realize what it is—who it is.

it’s you.

the whole image captures you and a little bit of your surroundings. positioned at your normal spot at the register, you’re looking down at a comic with your fingers playing with the ends of your hair. but it has a dream-like feel to it, with the pages of the comic illuminating your face as if a source of power is emanating from it. and then the best part: the wings. placed behind your shoulders are pair of feathered wings, outstretched in a sketched black ink. it’s beautiful.

it’s beautiful and it’s you. mark drew you.

“yo, sorry that took so long,” mark says while emerging from the back, eyes still focused on the comic in his hands. “i finally found it, but dude i had to do some digging—”

mark’s words are cut short when he notices you holding his notepad, comics that were placed atop abandoned on the counter by you. he visibly gulps.

“mark…” you start, not moving your eyes from the drawing. “what’s this?” without a response for a few moments, you tear your eyes away to see mark with blush on his cheeks, mouth open but unable to let any words out. “did you… did you draw me?”

“look, it gets really slow during the day, i just did a little sketch to pass time—”

“mark, this isn’t just a sketch,” you say, looking back down at the notepad. “this is amazing.”

“y-you like it?” mark says, hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“of course i like it,” you say.

“you don’t think it’s weird that i drew you without telling you?” mark asks, nervousness radiating from him.

“i don’t think it’s weird at all,” you say. “i actually love it. i like that you drew me as a superhero too, and one with wings at that.”

mark stays quiet, looking at his feet and probably overthinking everything right now. you look back up at him, tension building in your stomach as you ask what you already know the answer to. “you like me, don’t you?”

mark lifts his head to meet your eyes. he bites his lip anxiously as he nods slowly.

a streak of courage overtakes you as you grab his arm to pull him closer, him tripping over his own feet and crashing into your chest. you’re leaned against the counter, with mark’s arm behind you and hand placed flat on the surface. your faces are close, and you can feel his breath. his eyes are glued onto your lips, and he swallows thickly.

“mark, just kiss me,” you mumble, aching for him.

he wastes no time, leaning in to slot his lips between yours. he snakes an arm around your waist, holding you as close as he can. you melt into him, goosebumps floating across your skin in all-consuming desire. you move your hand to hold his cheek, thumb swiping on his smooth skin and fingers tangled in his soft, messy hair.

he pulls away, breath still shaky. “i’ve been wanting to kiss you for so long…” he trails off before leaning in and kissing you again, this time with more passion. he swipes his tongue between your lips, with you willingly accepting him. his hands trail up and down your sides, then finally places a firm grip on your waist and lifting you to sit on the counter. he slots between your legs, his body pressed close to yours. your fingers card through his hair, earning a sweet hum from him.

his hands trail down to your ass, pushing you closer against him to where you feel the bulge forming in his jeans. he can’t even hold back his moan, it being muffled by your lips. he pulls away again, this time kissing from your cheek down to your neck. he sucks at the expanse of skin while he caresses the other side of your throat. you let out a soft hum in pleasure, savoring every bite and lick—

“fuck, you sound so hot too,” he says in between kisses. he moves a hand down to your breast, kneading it roughly. you throw your head back, soaking in the pleasure from just his hands alone. his beautiful fucking hands, the ones that drew you. his lips feel so good on you, but his hands feel even better. it’s as if he’s been waiting for this moment for eternity and he doesn’t want to let you go. almost as if holding you, touching you is the only thing keeping him grounded in reality. it doesn’t feel real to you either; that mark, the cute boy you’ve had a crush on for weeks and weeks is kissing you, holding you, and yearning for you all the same.

you feel so wrapped up in the moment that you almost forget that you’re in public. sure, there’s no one left in the mall and the only people left are probably mall security, but the risk of being seen is still there. it just feels too good to stop.

“mark,” you say, giving in to the anxiety. “are we really doing this? right here, right now?”

he pulls back to look at you, still holding you close. “it’s just us here, and if it’s okay with you, i don’t think i can wait any longer.”

“i don’t think i can either,” you respond.

suddenly mark is ripping your clothes off, all while pulling you both behind one of the comic display cases. it’s your turn to take his clothes off, and you’re yanking his jacket off and pulling up his graphic tee and discarding them both on the floor. the exchange is a jumbled mess of constant touching of skin and clothes flying in every direction, a true testament to how desperate you both want each other. he’s kissing you all the while, taking every opportunity to peck at you between the tugging of clothes.

he leans you against the display bookshelf full of comics, completely unbothered when an issue or two falls off. your hand travels down into this jeans, feeling him hard and pulsing against your palm. you stroke his length slowly, focusing most of the stimulation on his dripping head. he lifts one of your legs slightly to get better access to you under your skirt, then looks at you as if he’s asking for permission.

you nod your head profusely before leaning in to kiss him deeply. it doesn’t last long, because suddenly he’s pushing inside you and you’re gasping at the stretch—

“you’re so—fuck—so fucking tight,” he hisses, attempting to push in as slowly as he can. your mouth is fully agape in bliss as he finally bottoms out, reaching deep inside of you. he catches your eyes, lust filled in his own as he slowly starts to move.

he’s slow at first, knowing that his size is stretching you out to the point where it’s nearly painful. but it feels so fucking good, his cock dragging in and out of your tight walls. you can tell he wants to pick up the pace, with his breath shuddering with each stroke. you take the opportunity to kiss him again, wanting to taste his soft lips as he gradually begins to pound into you.

he’s groaning against your lips, and your moans are muffled against his. you’re trying to salvage any sort of public decency by holding back your sounds the best you can. it’s when he grabs your legs and lifts you to press you against the display shelf that you realize that that shred of awareness of your surroundings is about to be long fucking gone.

he’s holding you up by gripping your ass, pistoning into you at a pace that you can only describe as brutal. it’s no use trying to stifle your moans anymore, with him hitting your cervix over and over and making you see stars at each stroke—

“mark, it feels so fucking good,” you can only whine out to him, wrapping your arms around his neck tighter, tugging at his hair—

“you feel so fucking good, jesus,” he groans against your neck, heaving breaths tickling at your throat.

his pace is wild, but the force in which he’s pounding into you begins to cause the comic books around you to tumble off the shelves, creating a pile at mark’s feet. he doesn’t seem to care though. that is, until a comic book falls from a shelf above you and hits him on the head.

“ah!” he exclaims, realizing what happened. he stops his movements to look at you, holding back a smile.

you can’t hold back your laugh, giggling profusely at the ridiculousness of the situation. he laughs too, shaking his head and letting out a sigh.

“this is crazy,” he says, resting his forehead on yours.

“i know,” you reply, still giggling. with one last laugh, he leans in and kisses you tenderly, smile still formed on his lips. you melt into him, ruffling your fingers through his hair as he begins to pick back up the roll of his hips into you.

it feels like a sweet moment, the fact that you can be doing such a scandalous act and still giggle with him. the tenderness doesn’t last for long, however, when he hits that perfect spot inside you that forces you to release a sharp moan.

“mark, oh my god,” you whimper, attempting to roll your hips down onto him. “keep doing that, please—”

“fuuuck,” he groans, feeling your core clenching around his length. “you take me so well, baby.”

all you can do now is nod, whimpering and whining on him. you can’t believe that this man that has always been so endearing, so kind and lovable has this completely different side to him that you’re only now getting to experience. it brings a different sort of intrigue to him; that he’s more than just a cute boy that works at a mall. he’s complex. he’s a fucking man. he’s a fucking. sex. god.

his breathing starts to become irregular, and his pace is back to merciless. his groans, fuck, his moaning. he’s bouncing you on his cock in the perfect way to where your moans are matching his. you can feel his dick pulsing inside you—

“i’m gonna cum,” he can only breathe out, burying his head into the crook of your neck. “can i?”

“yes mark, please,” you whine, tugging at the ends of his hair. all the while you’re clenching around his cock, bringing him closer and closer to his release.

with a low groan, his hips stutter and you feel his seed spilling into you, completely filling you up. the rocking of his hips stall, and he’s finally letting you down and kissing you sweetly, caressing your cheek with his hand.

“god, you are fucking perfect,” he whispers to you. you let out a giggle, leaning your forehead against his. “hey, i’m not done with you yet.”

he quickly moves you to the glass display counter, lifting you to sit you on it. he pushes your thighs open, lifting your skirt up to get a better look at you. he looks enamored, like he’s starving and the only thing to appease his hunger is by having you on his mouth.

he dives in, licking a stripe up your core with a groan. he repeats this action, as if he’s savoring every drop of your essence mixed with his release that’s slowly dripping out of you—

“so fucking hot,” he hums, releasing a hand from your thigh to tease at your entrance.

“mark, please,” you beg. “stop teasing—”

he attaches his mouth to your clit, swirling his tongue around in smooth, controlled circles. your hands fly to his head, body already twitching from stimulation. his finger is still prodding at your hole, wanting to enter but not just yet. he instead continues to ravage at your sensitive bud, intentional movements making your head spin. he knows what he’s doing and he knows he’s good, especially with the shaking of your thighs and high pitched moans escaping your lips egging him on.

he looks up at you, flattening his tongue out and doing long, drawn out licks. the eye contact is insane, the lust filled in them only making it that much hotter. he’s enjoying every second of this, seeing you shake and begging him to keep going. he loves the taste of you too, so sweet and almost addictive. he could die like this.

his teasing finger finally starts to deepen inside you, slowly at first. he can feel every pulse of your core around his finger, and it’s so hot that he can feel himself getting hard again. and you’re so wet, oh my god, so fucking wet. your arousal is dripping down his chin and his hand, making a sticky mess. when you start to roll your hips onto his face, he swears he’s in heaven.

he inserts another finger, feeling that tightness grip around them. it’s only getting more erratic now, clenching around him with each grind of your hips. he curls his fingers to prod at that sensitive spot, causing you to moan out his name—

“mark, don’t stop,” you whine, looking down at him basically making out with your pussy.

he continues the same movements, repeatedly hitting your g spot and swirling his dripping tongue on your clit. your back arches and legs unintentionally close around his head, making him push them back open with his free hand.

and then he starts humming against you. the vibrations send a shock wave through your body, that mixed with his fingers, his tongue, his hand gripping tightly against your thigh… it feels so intense and so so good. you cum on his tongue, with him desperately holding your hips down and he helps you ride out your high. he doesn’t stop until you’re shaking, and you have to grab his head and lift it.

“oh my god,” you gasp, slowly coming down.

he smirks up at you with arousal-coated lips. “yeah, oh my god.” he stands up, immediately going to kiss you and you accepting him, wrapping your arms around him. he pulls away and leans his head against yours.

“i can’t believe we just did that,” he says, sighing out an exasperated laugh.

“i know, what the fuck, right?” you giggle.

“are you- are you doing anything right now?” he asks. “like, do you wanna get food or something?”

“are you asking me on a date?” you ask teasingly.

“don’t tell me you decided you’re creeped out by the drawing now,” he laughs.

“yeah. suuuper creeped out,” you joke, leaning in for another kiss. you hear a noise behind you, and look out through the security shutters to see a mall security guard passing by, scrolling through his phone.

“looks like he just missed the show,” mark says, causing you both to try and hold back your fit of giggles.

a/n: thank u guys for reading! i rly enjoyed this one hehe :-) please leave feedback as i'm new to writing, and reblog to support me! it motivates me to write more!

✰taglist✰ @skz1-4-3 @oddracha @luvbit3z @tunafishyfishylike @seomisaho @haizbby @hoeforalbedo @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna

add me to the taglist!

[h1biscusgal]

Tee hee y'all, i'm not back but i loved y'all sm so take this subliminal i took six days to perfect.

I AM NOT BACK, NO, I AM SO SORRY.

my studying session been going good AND YALLLLLLL I MISS YOU SO MUCH, I CAN'T EVEN EXPLAIN.

so, last week, when i closed tumblr, my mind was reeling from one thing it kept repeating itself:

"i wanna give smth to my people in tumblr."

why? i've seen people having problems for the void, i've seen people say they are so close but their "heartbeat" stops them, some say they sleep without knowing.

so i thought.

"mf, why not a subliminal that will fucking guarantee you to enter IN EVERRRYYYY situation?"

think you need to keep awake? this sub

think you need to sleep to enter the void? still this sub

need to enter while using it? this sub

need to enter but can't have your phone with you during sleep? again this sub, you can listen to it during the day and try at night.

like WHATEVER the fuck you do, i have made a loophole for it, now for god's sake please be careful, it gave me such a headache making it my head is still pounding, it has PURE fucking delta waves and 5 set of repeated NON-LAYERED NOT TOO SPED UP affirmations, why?

these are the safest type of affirmations that penetrate the subconscious, i cannot express this enough please.

PLEASE BE FUCKING CAREFUL WITH IT, DON'T LOOP TOO MUCH, DELTA WAVES CAN MAKE YOU DEADASS TIRED.

now this? holy shit this? i call it my beautiful Voided Hibiscus project, and yes i love hibiscuses-

this sub???

here's the benefits:

Voided Hibiscus is a one-of-a-kind, high-power subliminal crafted to guarantee entry into the Void State — no matter your state of mind, environment, or experience level.

Whether you're lying still or fidgeting, wide awake or asleep, listening consciously or with it running in the background — the moment this subliminal activates, the Void becomes inevitable, it is fucking guaranteed and i made so sure of it by science.

During these exact 22 minutes and 22 seconds, your mind will swallow THE LITERAL definition of "master at void." The affirmations are layered with master precision — spoken, whispered, echoed, reversed — to penetrate the deepest layers of the subconscious, bypassing every mental block, doubt, or distraction. Delta isochronic tones pulse beneath the surface, gently entraining your brain to the perfect frequency of surrender, silence, and awareness, like ya'll i am NOT playing.

This is for you if:

You want to enter the Void effortlessly, with full certainty.

You want to enter during the day, or while sleeping — either way works.

You’re tired of trying methods and want results without effort.

You want a subliminal that works permanently — even after you stop listening.

Features:

Affirmations that dissolve fidgeting, overthinking, boredom, and resistance.

Built-in confidence: You will never doubt your ability to enter the void again.

Repetition formula designed to rewrite your subconscious with absolute certainty.

Works even if you accidentally fall asleep.

Activates the Void even when played silently or in the background.

After consistent listening, your command over the Void becomes instinctual.

like mf, you is the bored type? you is the annoyed impatient as fuck type? you is the type to try for 2 minutes and give up? homie this shit will throw you in the void while you move, fidget, breathe hard, feeling bored, sleep accidentally.

like what the fuck am i supposed to do next-

THIS CAN BE USED IN THREE WAYS:

awake method: lay down and have it on your head (no mf you won't sleep accidentally and ruin it bc i backed it up that you'll wake up there) and simply repeat affs for it, watch yourself enter without even knowing how the fuck you entered, i swear if you trust? you'll enter within the duration of those 22 minutes and 22 seconds, there's no "when", it's like a guarantee.

sleep method: if you is the type that yo parents let you have your phone with you? use it overnight and watch yourself wake up in the void.

thru-theday method: just listen to it during the day and do any method before sleep or just anywhere and bam.

there's no "how" here, this sub? almost made me tumble, i am not tryna brag, no seriously, but i thought to post smth that helps ppl, now let me stop yapping the fuck out and take this:

(so sorry for this quick and messy post-)

good luck loves, and send me the asks and messages coming! i'll be on here for a very few minutes and see what asks there is to answer.

EDIT: I AM SORRY WHAT THE FUCK???? LAST TIME I CHECKED I HAD 661 FOLLOWERS NOW IT'S A 1700 SMTH????? I AM SCREAMING PLEASE I LOVE YALL SO MUCH??? I CAN'T BELIEVE IT I WANNA CRY PLEASE.

[salemlunaa]

what the hell is up with you guys?

no seriously what is you guys’ problem?!?!

so i was scrolling thru my timeline and i come across this stupid post this stupid post which was an a adjacent to this other stupid idea this person decided to tag me and a bunch of other bloggers including my lovely moots accusing us of being selfish for not inducing pure consciousness for others

if you think the void is so hard you can’t do it yourself, you don’t understand what it is and i’m not saying that to be mean.

their idea is that: we should join a pact and “step up” to induce pure consciousness for others

RESPONSE: do you know how this works, i physically can not induce pure consciousness for someone else because i will go to a different timeline. “I have seen success stories where people manifest for others” false. idc what you saw. You can’t have someone else include the “I AM” state for you. Why do you think it’s called that. It’s a state of consciousness where YOU can step into a state where time and the 3D do not exist which is why it’s personal to you.

The void pact can not exist, because there is no such thing as entering the “I AM” state for someone else, you shift to a different timeline as your desires come into fruition in the 3D. The void pact cannot exist because you physically cannot bring everyone into the timeline with you.

a stupid comment i saw under that post: i agree, these bloggers need to understand how hard it is for us with circumstances

RESPONSE: fuck you, no seriously fuck you. do you realise you are not the only one with shitty circumstances, we try and tell you that circumstances don’t matter because they aren’t real along with time and you still aren’t getting it. There are people with horrible circumstances taht have done it.

if you keep focused on time and the 3d you will NEVER progress.

if you had the assumption that’s it’s so hard you need other people to help, that is what will stick

It’s effortless and not hard, if you can’t understand that you’ll never progress. Instead of spending time to reprogram your mindset and apply, you’re spending time doing this?? “but i’m trying and it just doesn’t work” then you’re wavering not actually doing anything. learn. the. difference. Instead of spending time ignoring the 3D and indulging in the facts that you’re a void master in your 4D you’re doing this?

You are not special, you are not exempt from inducing pure consciousness, you have all the information on here and you’re still demanding to have shit done for you.

If you think the void needs effort, you don’t understand. If you’ve been “trying” and failing you don’t understand. If you think that someone can do it for you, you don’t understand

if you don’t get it you’ll NEVER have progress.

˚. 𖦹 ⌨️ .ೄྀ ∘˚

And you wonder why so many bloggers are upping and leaving. How entitled do you have to be, you are getting this information for FREE, information that so many others don’t have access to and you’re using the platform to beg demand that others induce for you.

I try to be patient with those who still ask the same questions over and over and over but this is too much, you losers are seriously asking us bloggers not to be selfish and do it for you. Something that takes no effort.

yall made me hop out of an impromptu break for this dumb shit. but i have to warn you don’t not follow these entitled people. it will get you no where and it will show when it’s 2028 and they’re still asking bloggers not to be “selfish” and help out. do not follow this foolish shit i’m begging.

and before you call me rude, i’ve had patience with so many of you. but then again some of you are allergic to anything but coddling so i’ll take those comments with a pinch of salt

ONLY YOU can induce pure consciousness, ONLY YOU can be “I AM”, it can’t be done for you why do you think it’s called “I AM”. ONLY YOU can have your desires and YOU DO HAVE THEM ALREADY.

This mindset will have you here until 2030. And honestly i’m not mad about that.

@void1finder here’s your answer boo

[glossdebut]

PRICE OF FAME | MYG ★ 06

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SERIES SUMMARY: You were about ready to give up, your career nowhere near what you dreamed it’d be when you started at eighteen, bright-eyed and naive. Reality for you these past few years has consisted of pouting at a camera, ignoring whispers of your name at company events, and ensuring that the stupid, tiny designer purses they keep forcing on you can at least carry a flask. But now, you’re helping a friend in need. For the first time in a long time, it feels like you’re doing something worthwhile with your life. Too bad Min Yoongi, the newest thorn in your side, seems insistent on stopping you.

✧ SERIES TAGS: enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut, fake/pretend relationship (not main couple), rockstar!yoongi, model!reader, guitarist yoongi, singer jungkook, bassist taehyung, drummer jimin, manager namjoon, yoongi & maknae line are in a rock band, reader & seokjin are best friends, yoongi & hoseok are best friends (sope duo ftw), yoongi has a tongue piercing, reader is a brat

✧ CHAPTER TAGS: yoongi and MC are both going thru it, JK too my poor baby, the band is back in seoul, communication but idk if i’d call it healthy, setting the stage for some bullshit in chapter 7 jsyk, flashbacks in italics, nsfw warnings under the cut (see series masterlist for series warnings)

✧ CHAPTER WORDCOUNT: 14k words

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: IT FEELS GOOD TO BE BACK… and here i am, with 14k 😮‍💨 i don’t know what came over me this weekend, i guess posting that teaser kicked me in the ass just like i wanted it to. ANYWAY, i don’t have much to say aside from i missed you guys and i missed this fic so damn much. i’ve already started work on chapter 7 that’s how down bad i am!!! thank you to claret @yoonmetogether (the knower) and K @ktownshizzle for beta reading for me <3 i can’t wait to hear what everyone thinks so please send your feedback after you read!

CH. 06: WHY CAN'T I MAKE A MISTAKE?

✧ CHAPTER WARNINGS: implied/referenced alcoholism, sexting, dirty talk, semi-public sex, oral (f. receiving), but just the BAREST HINT, but yes POF!yoongi’s tongue piercing does make a comeback lol, yoongi’s hands, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (don’t be like them), shower sex, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! lmk if i missed anything, oh there’s a little bit of slight slutshaming in one scene? but it’s for the plot idk you’ll see

Yoongi is trying to focus, but you are testing his fucking patience. 

A meeting with the label bigwigs—an important one, at that. He’s meant to be showing them his progress on the album, that all of the money they’ve already poured into creative teams and PR isn’t for nothing. He’s not an idiot. He knows they’re nervous. Of all the fickle, testy artists they have signed, Yoongi is the ficklest. The testiest.

He came here to plead his case. To prove to them that his creative drive hasn’t completely fucked off and died. 

And you’re sending him pictures of yourself in lingerie. Motherfuck.

Dollface (derogatory): help me pick which one to post? 😇

You’ve been pulling shit like this all week. Blatant attempts at riling Yoongi up that have just gotten more shameless with each day—but always giving yourself just enough plausible deniability.

This time, it’s nudes under the guise of needing advice. From Yoongi. About which photo would look best on your Instagram. Something nobody has ever asked Yoongi for advice on, ever. What the fuck does he know about lingerie brand partnerships?

Yoongi would bet his record deal that there’s no brand partnership to begin with—and even if there is, you’re certainly not posting these photos anywhere. You might as well be naked. 

The set you’re wearing is all lilac mesh and lace, delicate and pretty. The panties are half-obscured, revealed only by a thumb hooking the waistband of your sweatpants down just enough. He doesn’t know how sheer they are, exactly. But if he looks closely enough, he can almost make out the exact shape of your nipples through your bra. Nipples he’s had in his mouth, his mind dutifully provides. 

He can recall the sounds you made—the sweet, breathy way you moaned his name. You like his piercing. He’s noticed. He likes that you like it, can’t wait to show you what he can really do with it, if you’ll let him.

It’s a damn shame. He’d much rather have you laid out in front of him, touchable and soft and begging, instead of memorialized within the paltry pixels of his phone. But he’s not about to take them for granted, even if they’re not what he wants. They’re nice fucking photos.

Yoongi wonders if you were wet when you took them. Wet for him. Maybe that’s why you left the sweatpants on. So he wouldn’t know you’re soaking your panties for him. 

The thought is enough to have him stirring to life in his jeans, which—fuck, it’s really not the time or place.

"Yoongi-ssi."

Yoongi straightens up so quickly his neck cracks. 

“What do you have for us?” Sejin asks expectantly.

“Uh, right,” Yoongi says, fumbling to open his laptop. He casts the screen to the monitor mounted on the wall as he speaks. “Seven recorded demos, three more songs in the works.”

He distributes photocopies of his lyrics to the executives across from him and hits play on the first track on his screen. Thus begins the familiar humiliation ritual.

It’s not that Yoongi is ashamed of his work. He was years ago, sometimes. Before Sejin signed him. When he was handing out CDs, or busking half-baked covers in front of pedestrians in the hopes of a few thousand won. Now that he’s played stadiums, though, it’s a little hard to stay humble. He knows his songs are good.

These meetings that Sejin insists on arranging prior to every album release just feel a little pointless, that’s all. Could definitely be an email. But instead, Yoongi is expected to show up and watch while the people who sign his checks listen to his work in its least-polished state. 

It doesn’t help that it’s Yoongi’s voice, not Jeongguk's, pouring through the speakers this time. But that’s Yoongi’s fault. Given their last conversation, it didn’t feel like a good time to ask Jeongguk to lay down some vocals before Yoongi hopped on a plane.

So, Yoongi bears it. Plays tracks one through seven, taps his fingers on the tabletop as Sejin and the others flip through the lyrics to the unfinished songs, and waits for it to be over so he can go home and think about fucking the brat out of you. Or something like that.

Track seven comes to a close, and Yoongi lifts his head to watch Sejin gather his thoughts.

“It’s… different from what we were expecting,” Sejin says after a moment.

Yoongi fights the urge to visibly bristle, shifting in his seat. Different doesn’t necessarily mean bad.

“How so?”

“Well,” Sejin says, flipping through his copy of the lyrics again. Annotated now, Yoongi notices. “It’s an album full of love songs.”

Yoongi can’t hold his scoff in. “They’re not love songs.”

Sejin raises an eyebrow. “No?”

“It’s telling the story of someone who gets fucked over by a person they’re supposed to trust,” Yoongi explains, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s a cautionary tale. Not really sure how you got ‘love’ from that.”

“My mistake,” Sejin concedes, raising his hands with his palms out in surrender. “It’s good, no matter what it is. But that comes as no surprise.”

Yoongi’s hackles lower the slightest bit. He likes Sejin, most of the time. Sejin likes to flatter him, even if Yoongi’s demeanor as of late has been cause for concern. 

“So you can work with this?”

“I don’t see why not,” Sejin hums. “Far from what we expected, so the creative team will have to regroup. But I think it’s a good time in your career for something different. Show some diversity.”

Yoongi nods once in response. He didn’t mean for this album to sound so different from what the band has released so far, but it’s normal for an artist’s sound to evolve over time. Sejin knows the industry, so Yoongi trusts his judgment.

“So.” Sejin steeples his fingers. “Let’s talk logistics.”

Right. This is what Yoongi has been bracing himself for since the tour ended.

“We’re shooting for a July release date,” Sejin starts. “That means six months for recording, mixing, mastering, artwork and design, promotion—everything.”

Yoongi sucks in a breath. Six months means a tight schedule moving forward. Mastering takes a long time. Artwork and design can take even longer, especially with three tracks missing at the moment. They’ll be finishing this album under the gun, but it isn’t impossible.

“I’ll spend a few days with your demos and work with you if I have any suggestions,” he continues. Same old, same old. Sejin is one of the few people from whom Yoongi can receive criticism, so that won’t be a problem. He rarely has edits anyway—he’s a big fan of Yoongi’s creative vision, likely due to the money it makes him. 

Yoongi shrugs. “Sure.”

“In the meantime, Hyunseok will see to it that your bandmates are flown back in over the weekend so we can start recording as soon as possible. We can meet again next week to discuss with the rest of the band.”

Right. Fuck.

Well, Jeongguk isn’t talking to him, but Sejin doesn’t need to know that right this second. Hopefully, Jimin is smoothing things out for Yoongi right now. God, that’d be nice.

Yoongi wouldn’t readily describe Park Jimin as nice, though. Maybe he should’ve confided in Taehyung instead.

“We’ll want to shoot a music video as well,” Sejin adds, cutting through Yoongi’s thoughts. “Although I think the track for it has yet to be written.”

Mmm. Yoongi respectfully (and silently) disagrees. There are at least two songs in his recorded demos that Yoongi has been envisioning a music video for, but it’s a non-issue at this point. He has three more tries to satisfy Sejin in that regard.

“And, Yoongi-ssi.” 

Yoongi meets his eyes. 

“I know you won’t want to hear this, since these are not love songs.” Yoongi bristles, but Sejin doesn’t care. “But I think the video will need a girl. Someone to be the antagonist in your cautionary tale.”

Yoongi makes a face. Yeah, sure, whatever. He’ll give Sejin that. There are plenty of viable candidates signed to the label, female musicians who also dabble in acting. It could be cool.

“Okay,” Yoongi sighs. “If the song you pick calls for it.”

“Great.”

For the next thirty minutes, Yoongi sits and listens while everyone else at the table weighs in. He doesn’t want to make any decisions without the rest of the band present, but it’s helpful to know where the label is at. The head of creative talks album cover design, PR spitballs on promotion methods. Everything is still in the brainstorming stages, but Yoongi can already see the shape this album is going to take, and it looks good. 

The meeting wraps up after that. Yoongi is in the middle of slipping his laptop into his bag, eager to head home, when Sejin speaks again.

“Ten is a good number,” he muses to the table, stopping Yoongi in his tracks. “I have no doubt those last three songs will be done as soon as possible. Our Yoongi is a machine.”

Yoongi looks down at his bag impassively, zipping it up and willing his expression not to sour at Sejin’s word choice.

It’s nothing Yoongi hasn’t heard over and over, nothing he doesn’t already know. Isn’t that what makes Burn The Stage so profitable for Sejin? Isn’t it what allows their songs to have a real message behind them, what allows Yoongi to have a shred of creative control under a company like this? 

Yoongi busts his ass and it works out in everybody’s favor. He denies himself any real semblance of a personal life, holes himself up all day long to scribble in a notebook and play his guitar until his fingers bleed. He churns out seven songs and some change in a week and a half. 

He’s heard it all—disciplined, detail-oriented, prodigious. A machine, Sejin likes to say.

Yeah.

Yeah, he is, isn’t he?

“See you,” Yoongi says in response, slinging his bag over his shoulder. 

“Have a good weekend, Yoongi-ssi,” Sejin says, and Yoongi slips out the door without another word. 

★ ★ ★

Seoyeon is too fucking good at her job. Honestly, if you had even a shred of power at this company (ha!) you’d use every ounce of it to make sure she got a raise. 

You’ve barely had a minute to yourself all week, constantly being chauffeured from place to place. She’s managed to land you a few possible brand deals, along with setting you up with a new nutritionist and personal trainer. She even scheduled a color analysis session for you, although it doesn’t really matter whether you’re a cool winter or a soft summer if the clothes you wear aren’t even yours half the time.

You’re exhausted. You’re busy. It’s exactly what you wanted.

Too bad you still can’t stop thinking about Yoongi.

You really thought the stunt you pulled last week would do the trick. It was satisfying, at first, to give the bane of your existence blue balls. It felt good to see him so visibly frustrated, to see the smugness drain from his expression when he realized you were kicking him out. You felt like you’d won something.

He just had to ruin it with that kiss at your door.

You fully intended to leave it at that, to let him walk out with no hope of a sequel. And you will leave it at that. You’ll be damned if you break first.

But still, late at night when you can’t sleep, your brain summons the phantom feeling of his lips on yours. The slide of his tongue. The stretch of his fingers. How fucking thick he felt, even through layers of fabric. You’re not going to fuck Min Yoongi, but that doesn’t mean you haven’t been thinking about it.

So you’ve been teasing him during your small moments of free time, because you can. Because it makes you feel like you have the upper hand for just a moment.

Oh, and you’ve also been drinking. Not too much, just… more than usual. Enough to dull the guilt and the anger and the frustration you’ve been feeling since you left Jeju with no explanation. 

You might’ve overdone it today, though. 

You're standing on a small platform in the middle of a mirrored fitting room, drowning in swaths of chiffon and organza. Your mouth is dry, and your lips are sticky from the tint that was smeared on them earlier. The flask in your bag is half-empty now. You’ve been steadily sneaking sips of vodka since lunch.

Hyerin has been circling you like a shark with pins for teeth for the past hour and a half. You try to stand still, but your knees feel like they’ve forgotten how to lock. You shift your weight and wince when one of the pins nicks your side.

“Jesus fucking—can you not?” you hiss, jerking away as Hyerin scowls at you.

“God, hold still! If you’d stop fidgeting, this would go a lot faster.” She yanks the fabric taut again, huffing around the pin between her lips.

You shake your head and take a step down from the platform, gathering the fabric of your dress between your fingers to keep yourself from tripping. “I need a break.”

“You need to grow up,” she mumbles. “I don’t know how Seoyeon puts up with this.”

You don’t rise to the bait. Your hand trembles slightly as you unzip the dress halfway down your back, holding it tight to your chest. The room spins when you bend to grab your clothes. It’s subtle, you’ve definitely been drunker. But it’s there.

Seoyeon appears before you can even undress.

“Hyerin-ssi, will you give us a minute?”

Hyerin stands immediately, all too happy to get away from you. When the door slams shut, Seoyeon gives you a look.

You know that look. It’s the I’ve reached the end of my very long, very patient rope look.

“Sit.”

You don’t argue. The plush bench beneath you creaks as you sink into it, blinking blearily at the wall across from you. Seoyeon steps in front of you, tapping her foot.

“Give it to me.”

You blink. “Give what—”

“The flask.” Seoyeon holds out her hand, unimpressed and expectant. 

You scoff, crossing your arms defensively over the itchy bodice of your dress. “I don’t—”

“Don’t lie to me,” she interrupts sharply. “Do you think Hyerin doesn’t know what vodka smells like? Do you think I don’t know?”

You look away.

“I’ve been covering for you all day,” she says. “Making excuses. Pretending you’ve just got a migraine, or you had a long night. But this is unacceptable, YN.” She exhales hard. “What is going on with you?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” she snaps, jaw tight. “You’ve been off all week, and it isn’t my job to ask questions. I don’t need to know what happened. But I do need you to stop fucking around. I can’t do my job if you’re too wasted to stand straight during a fitting.”

Your face burns hot with embarrassment. You want to argue, but you can’t. She isn’t wrong, and you feel ashamed for wasting her time.

“You asked me to pack your schedule, and I did,” she continues, softer now. “I’m not trying to parent you. I like working with you. I want you to succeed. But if something doesn’t change, you’re going to crash.”

Silence hangs between you for a moment. You shift your weight, chiffon rustling uncomfortably against your bare skin. 

“I’ll throw the flask away,” you say eventually, voice small. You want to mean it.

“You’ll throw it away,” she echoes. “And you’ll drink water, eat something real, and sleep a full night. And if I catch you lying to me again—”

Seoyeon doesn’t finish the sentence because she doesn’t need to. You’re already nodding, a little too eagerly, trying to prove something, though you’re not sure what. That you’re not a total mess? That you’re still worth believing in?

She waits, watching you, then sighs and finally turns toward the door. “I’ll move some things around. Go home and sleep it off.”

You nod gratefully, even though she’s not looking anymore, and the door clicks shut behind her. You let out the breath you’ve been holding.

The dress feels heavy on your body. You peel it off slowly, careful not to tear anything or nick your skin on a pin, and drape it gently over the back of the bench.

The flask sits in your bag like it’s daring you to touch it. You stare at it for a long second, then unzip the pouch, pull it out, and turn it over in your hands. It’s cold, metallic. Familiar.

You walk it over to the trash can in the corner of the room. The clang it makes when it hits the bottom is loud. Final. It rings in your ears.

You grab your clothes and start redressing, tugging your jeans up with clammy hands. You fight with the complicated straps of your shirt, trying to untwist them as much as possible to make yourself look presentable.

The chill in the air barely registers on your skin when you leave the building. You’re warm to the touch, from the vodka and shame combined. So much so that you don’t even bother to pull your coat on before you climb into the car that awaits you. You press your forehead to the window as the driver pulls onto the road, watching streetlights swim by in blurry streaks. 

Your apartment isn’t far from here, and when you get home, you won’t have another drink. Seoyeon’s words have left a mark, at least for tonight. You want to keep your word. You do. 

But the truth is, you don’t know how to function without some kind of distraction. The nonstop schedule didn’t do what you’d hoped. Drinking during work hours is no longer an option. So now you’re stuck, stripped of your crutches and alone with your thoughts.

You’ll need to find a solution soon. Something to keep you moving along.

Your phone buzzes in your lap, pulling you from your thoughts. You squint down at the glow of your screen, blinking at the Instagram notification until the letters unblur themselves.

@abcdefghi__lmnopqrstuvwxyz has added a photo to their story.

Ah. Jeongguk. 

You remember the countless texts from him sitting unopened in your inbox, and you tap his story open anyway.

It’s a selca of him, Jimin, and Taehyung. They’re bundled in coats and scarves, huddled together in the back of a car not unlike the one you’re in now. Three-fourths of the band smiling brightly. You wonder if they’ve spoken to Yoongi at all this week.

Belatedly, you notice the location tag in the corner.

Seoul.

Chewing at your bottom lip, you swipe out of Instagram and finally open the texts you’ve been dodging since you left. 

JK: you don’t have to tell me what happened if you don’t want to right now

JK: but you can always talk to me

JK: have a safe flight. let me know when you land

You didn’t.

When you landed in Incheon last week, you just couldn’t bring yourself to open his message and explain why you left. Then, only a few nights later, Yoongi had shown up at your doorstep. You really couldn’t fathom facing Jeongguk after that. What were you supposed to say? 

Sorry, I kissed your bandmate that I hate and it freaked me out so bad I had to book a flight? 

Sorry, when he told me he knew about our deal I hooked up with him? 

Sorry, nothing I do makes any fucking sense?

So, instead, you kept ignoring his texts, hoping that eventually his persistence would wear down. And it did.

JK: i’ll leave you alone

​​JK: just text me when you’re ready to talk

You take a breath, shaky fingers hovering over your keyboard. Now seems like a good time to be an adult. 

Maybe you won’t need a distraction if you do.

You: can we meet tomorrow?

★ ★ ★

It’s the big day, and the dread has been churning in Yoongi’s gut since he dragged himself out of bed this morning.

The rest of the band is back in Seoul. Jeongguk is back in Seoul. 

Yoongi needs to at least try to talk to him, right? It’s the right thing to do. The responsible thing. And, even pushing his personal feelings aside, it’s the professional thing to do. For everyone’s career.

But he’s been pacing outside the conference room for an hour, iced Americano sweating in his hand and rattling with each step, and he still hasn’t quite figured out what he’s going to say when Jeongguk actually shows up.

It’s not like Yoongi’s never been on the receiving end of Jeongguk’s stubborn streak. He’s known the kid since he was eighteen years old. Nearing a decade now. Yoongi has learned over the years that telling Jeongguk no—or disagreeing with him at all, for that matter—never ends well.

It’s not necessarily a bad trait. Yoongi admires him for it, honestly. Jeongguk has strong convictions. Yoongi used to think he did, but he learned over the years that he’s all too willing to bend—especially for Jeongguk.

Most of the time, when Yoongi digs his heels in, it’s on Jeongguk’s behalf. In his defense.

But that doesn’t mean Yoongi doesn’t stand his ground sometimes, as the hyung. That doesn’t mean there haven’t been blowout arguments in the past, that there hasn’t been shouting, that Jeongguk hasn’t frequently been the unstoppable force to Yoongi’s immovable object.

Still. The silence has never lasted quite this long, and Yoongi has already apologized and admitted his wrongs. What else is he supposed to fucking say?

So, yeah, Yoongi’s feeling antsy. And the coffee probably isn’t helping.

He glances down at his watch. The meeting is for noon, and it’s 11:52, and Jeongguk always shows up ridiculously early for everything. He’s known the younger to be that way since college. Yoongi was counting on it this time, which is why he showed up over an hour ago.

None of this bodes well. Yoongi needs a fucking cigarette.

He has just under ten minutes. He’ll run outside real quick, smoke, calm his nerves. Jeongguk will show up, because he’s a lot of things, but he isn’t stupid. Yoongi can just talk to him after the meeting.

He tosses his coffee in the nearest bin, patting his pockets as he shuffles towards the elevator. He finds purchase on his lighter, and it’s pathetic how quickly the touch of plastic to his fingertips fills him with relief.

And then, like a cosmic joke, the elevator dings before Yoongi can even push the down button.

The doors slide open, and there’s Jeongguk, bracketed by Jimin and Taehyung. 

Yoongi tries not to overanalyze the formation, whether it’s protective or not. Instead, he makes immediate eye contact with Jimin and tries to convey telepathically that he’d like to speak to Jeongguk alone, thanks. Mercifully, Jimin gets the hint. Even if he doesn’t look pleased about it at all. Yoongi doesn’t fucking care, because at least he’s dragging Taehyung towards the conference room without a fight.

When Jeongguk tries to follow, Yoongi stops him with a tentative hand on his shoulder.

Well, here goes nothing.

“Jeongguk-ah,” he starts. His throat is dry. He hasn’t spoken yet today. “Can we talk?”

“Meeting’s in five, hyung,” Jeongguk says, staring at his shoes.

“Fuck the meeting,” Yoongi insists, jostling Jeongguk’s shoulder gently so he meets his eyes. “I just need a minute. Please?”

Jeongguk steps back, out of Yoongi’s space, and crosses his arms. It stings a little. “One minute.”

That’s more than Yoongi expected. He’ll take it.

“I—just…” Fuck, are his palms sweating? “How’re you doing?”

Jeongguk gives him a blank look. “How am I doing,” he repeats flatly.

Yeah, okay, that was stupid. This is the part Yoongi didn’t really think through. He takes a breath, re-centers himself. “Are you… Are we good?”

Jeongguk shrugs. “I’m here, right?”

“That’s not an answer, Jeongguk-ah.”

“I’m not quitting, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Jeongguk says. It’s not, but it’s still a relief to hear. 

“I’m worried about you,” Yoongi insists.

Jeongguk scoffs. “Hyung.”

“What?”

“You’re not.”

“I am,” Yoongi says, testy. “Guk-ah, what—”

“You’re worried about you,” Jeongguk says, brow furrowed.

Yoongi balks. “What the hell does that mean?”

Jeongguk shakes his head like Yoongi’s being stupid. “To answer your question, I’m not doing that great, hyung. It’s been a shitty week,” he says, visibly frustrated. “But I don’t have anything to say that I haven’t already said. So if you’re wanting me to say the magic words so you can stop feeling bad, I don’t have them.”

This is going nowhere. He needs to switch tactics.

“Jeongguk, I told you I was sorry,” Yoongi tries, desperate. “I’m sorry. I fucked up. I just want to fix—”

The door to the conference room swings open, and Sejin’s head pops out. Yoongi’s minute is up.

“Gentlemen,” Sejin calls, brows raised. “We’re starting.”

Yoongi swallows down the rest of the sentence. He watches Jeongguk’s jaw work as he glances in Sejin’s direction, like he’s chewing down whatever he really wants to say. 

It’s worse than shouting. At least if Jeongguk yelled, Yoongi would know what he was working with. But this… this quiet resignation, this stiff, uncomfortable silence? It’s foreign in a way that makes Yoongi’s chest ache.

“We’ll talk later,” Yoongi offers. Pleads, really, because the ball is in Jeongguk’s court and he knows it.

Jeongguk finally looks back at him. His lashes are dark and low over unreadable eyes. “Sure,” he says, and Yoongi tries to believe he means it.

Without another word, Jeongguk turns and strides towards the door. Yoongi watches the back of his head, jaw clenched so tight it aches, before trailing behind.

The conference room is unsettlingly quiet when they enter. Of the four seats across the table from Sejin, Jimin and Taehyung have chosen the middle two. A barricade.

Yeah, Yoongi expected that. But he doesn’t have the energy to dwell on it.

He swallows down the bitter hurt and sinks into the chair that remains next to Taehyung. Probably better than being shoved next to Park Jimin, if the pitying but kind smile Taehyung offers him is anything to go by. Jimin probably pities Yoongi plenty, but he wouldn’t be kind about it. Yoongi wonders how much Taehyung knows, but he has no intention of asking.

Sejin starts the meeting by getting the others up to speed on what he and Yoongi discussed last week, which gives Yoongi a few minutes to get his head in the game. His fingers twitch for the cigarette he never got, but starting the recording process is the priority right now. If he can’t fix his friendship with Jeongguk today, the least he can do is what he does best—make him more successful. Protect his career.

By the time the meeting ends, everyone has an actual timeline laid out in their calendars. Deadlines that start off rigid and become more tentative as weeks go by, because they all depend on output. On discipline. And most importantly, on whether or not the four of them can make it through the next six months without killing each other.

They’ll get through it, Yoongi thinks. This will be their most successful album to date. He’ll make sure of it. He’ll put himself through the wringer to make it happen.

Nobody lingers when the meeting is adjourned, which Yoongi isn’t perturbed about. He still wants to talk to Jeongguk, but he wasn’t hopeful enough to think ‘later’ meant ‘immediately after this.’ The efforts to record are scheduled to kick off in a week, and if he doesn’t get a chance to fix everything before then, well… Six months. 

Surely, Jeongguk won’t still be mad at him in six months.

He’ll keep his distance for now. There are three songs left to finish, so Yoongi gives Jeongguk a five-minute-wide berth before he heads down the hall and down a floor, to the studio where he dropped his McCarty this morning. He’s not feeling particularly inspired right now, but he needs to finish this album. 

Luckily, like most other things, that’s something he’s used to doing alone.

★ ★ ★

Burn The Stage’s company is very, very different from yours.

You knew that since you started this arrangement, but it’s never been clearer now that you’re actually standing in the building.

It’s nice in here. Clean, but not in the cold, clinical way that you’ve grown accustomed to over the years. There’s lots of natural light instead, and a cheery woman at the front desk who seems like she actually enjoys her job.

You’re waiting for a while, sitting in the lobby while the worker goes through the necessary measures to get you your guest badge. Jeongguk has added you to the visitors' list for today, so there shouldn’t be any hiccups, but you also know he wanted to meet here because he had business to attend to today. He’s probably gotten caught up. You don’t mind waiting—god knows you made him wait long enough—but you’re also actively trying not to crush the banana milk you brought as a peace offering while you sit.

You’re nervous! You’re trying not to be. It’s a good sign that he said yes to meeting you, right?

Still, your legs wobble the slightest bit when the woman at the front desk waves you over to finally hand you your badge. You slip it around your neck with a grateful smile.

“Jeongguk-ssi just got out of a meeting, so he’s already upstairs,” she tells you cheerfully, gesturing to the security guard to her left. “Eunwoo-ssi will escort you to him.”

Oh!

You turn your head in Eunwoo’s direction and recognize him instantly. The security guard from the concert at Wasteland. The one who helped you backstage and made sure you didn’t trip over your ridiculous shoes. The presence of a familiar face makes you relax just the slightest bit, and your smile grows.

“Nice to see you again, Eunwoo-ssi,” you say.

“You too, YN-ssi,” he replies, returning your smile. “Ready?”

You nod and follow as he guides you past the desk and further into the building, towards an elevator down a corridor. You make some polite small talk as you both take the ride up, asking him about his day, and he kindly asks you about yours in return.

By the time you get to your destination, your grip on the bottle of banana milk has loosened significantly, although it tightens again when Eunwoo makes to open the door.

He turns to you first, offering a quiet, encouraging smile. “Okay?”

You nod, forcing a smile. “As I’ll ever be.”

Eunwoo steps aside to open the door to the small practice room, nodding toward the interior. “Good luck.”

You nod again, eyes fixed on the open doorway. The familiar silhouette inside steals the air from your lungs for a second.

Jeongguk is sitting on a low stool, scrolling through something on his phone. He glances up when he hears the door, and even though his posture stiffens slightly, his face relaxes when he sees you.

“I’ll give you two some space,” Eunwoo murmurs from behind, and then he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind you.

You step forward slowly, the banana milk cradled between your hands. You extend it toward him with a small, sheepish shrug. “Peace offering.”

That earns a quiet laugh from him, the tension cracking just a little. He takes the bottle. “Thanks.”

“Thanks for agreeing to meet me,” you say, testing the waters.

Jeongguk shakes his head, warm as ever. “Of course.”

You exhale, forcing yourself to relax. “I just… How have you been?”

He huffs a laugh at that, shaking his head. “Everybody really needs to stop asking me that,” he says. “I’m okay, YN-ah. Are you?”

It’s just so Jeongguk, to ask about you when he’s the one who’s been wronged. Your lip wobbles, vision swimming before you can stop it.

“I’ve been better,” you admit. “I’m really sorry, Jeongguk. I feel so bad for leaving the way I did.”

As soon as the words are out, Jeongguk pushes up from the stool. His arms come around you without hesitation, wrapping tightly around your shoulders, and something about the familiar scent of his detergent and the strength in his hold shatters what little composure you’d managed to hold on to.

You collapse into the hug with a muffled sob.

“Yah, none of that,” he says softly, squeezing you tighter. “I’m not mad at you, YN. I’m confused, yeah, but not mad.”

“You should be mad at me,” you sniffle, clutching the soft fabric of his sweatshirt. “I shouldn’t have left you in the dark, I just—” You cut yourself off with a puff of breath, closing your eyes.

Jeongguk holds you quietly for a moment before pulling back, hands still resting lightly on your arms. “We can talk about it now, if you’re ready.”

It isn’t lost on you that Jeongguk knows exactly what prompted you to leave now, but something in his expression tells you that he isn’t aware that you’ve become privy to that information. Which means he also doesn’t know anything about the night in your apartment with Yoongi. Not that you thought Yoongi would be stupid enough to tell him, but still. It’s a relief.

“Yeah,” you sigh, moving to sit. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

There’s a moment of heavy silence before you speak again. You brace yourself.

“The night before I left, Yoongi and I kissed.”

“Yeah. I know,” Jeongguk replies evenly. “Hyung told me.”

You’re all too aware of the crossroads in front of you. This is the moment where you can come clean, tell him about Yoongi showing up at your apartment last week and everything that’s happened since. You desperately want to be strong enough to cut off the lies here. It’s the step you came here to take, for your own sanity. Stop the lies, stop the drinking, get your life back on track and make sure your friendship with Jeongguk doesn’t pay the price for your poor decisions.

But, part of you…

A stupid, selfish, horrible part of you wants Jeongguk to keep looking at you the way he is right now. Like you could never do anything wrong. It isn’t very often that someone looks at you like that.

In the end, that’s the part that wins, and the lie comes too easily.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that he’d do that.”

Jeongguk tilts his head. “Yeah. So… you understand why I’m confused,” he says. “You two haven’t had anything nice to say about each other since you met. Last I heard, you hated him.”

“It confused me, too.” You let out a bitter laugh. He doesn’t even know how true that is. “Honestly, Jeongguk, I don’t know why it happened. I do hate him.”

That part, at least, isn’t a lie.

“I was a little drunk. We both were, I mean. All of us had been drinking for hours. And, I don’t know, it just happened.”

Jeongguk doesn’t look entirely convinced. “Still, YN. It’s hard to believe you’d kiss someone you’ve talked so much shit about just because you were drunk.”

“I know. Maybe it was because we’d started getting along after you had me talk to him?” He lifts his head at that, brow furrowed, and you quickly try to rephrase. “I’m not saying it was your fault! Just… in that moment, he wasn’t so bad, you know?”

Jeongguk chews the inside of his cheek, then says quietly, “Okay…”

“Ever since Kihyun, I…” You trail off, swallowing hard. “It’s been lonely, Jeongguk. I can’t lie. I’m glad we ended things, but it’s still hard sometimes. I think it was just good timing for me to make a mistake. And I’m really sorry you got hurt in the end.”

“I’m fine, YN.” His voice is gentle. “I just wish you’d felt like you could talk to me about it.”

“I felt ashamed,” you whisper. “I still do.”

“Don’t.”

“Are you and Yoongi okay?”

He scoffs, looking away. “He’s trying. In his Yoongi-hyung way.”

“But you’re mad at him?”

“Not really because of the kiss, but… yeah. I’m mad at him.”

“I’m sorry if I ruined something for you,” you say honestly. 

Jeongguk just shrugs. “If anything’s ruined, hyung is the one who ruined it. But… like I said, he’s trying.”

“Well.” You manage a small smile. “I hope it works out okay.”

You mean that, too.

“Thanks.” Jeongguk shifts slightly. “Oh, uh. He knows we’re not really dating, by the way.”

Your heart lurches, but you force yourself to feign surprise. “Oh.”

“Sorry,” he says quickly. “I just… it was going to happen sooner or later, but I should’ve given you a heads-up first.”

“Well, I didn’t make myself easy to reach,” you offer.

A silence settles between you, and it isn’t entirely comfortable.

“Um… so, what does that mean?” you ask. “For us?”

Jeongguk rubs the back of his neck. “Honestly, I’ve been trying to figure that out. I mean, I wasn’t trying to keep noona a secret just from him, you know?”

You nod silently.

“I guess it depends on where you’re at,” he continues. “I understand if you don’t want to pretend anymore, after everything. If anyone understands not wanting to be around Yoongi right now, it’s me, and… he’s not going anywhere.”

“Fuck him,” you mutter. “I still want to help you, if you need it. Do the public-facing part, at least. Maybe it’s a relief if we don’t have to pretend around your friends anymore, you know?”

“Jimin-hyung and Taehyung-hyung still don’t know anything, but yeah, I get what you mean. It was a lot of lying to ask of you.”

Well, that answers that.

“Are you going to tell them?”

Jeongguk winces. “I don’t know yet. Does that change things for you?”

“No,” you say instantly. “This is your thing, Guk. I’ll do it how you want it.”

“Okay. Well… if you’re sure,” he says hesitantly.

“I wouldn’t be saying any of this if I weren’t,” you reassure him. “I promise.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry,” you say again, quieter this time. “For everything.”

Jeongguk looks at you, eyes soft. “We’re okay, YN. A lot of shit is fucked up right now, but not this.” He pauses. “Thank you for… not giving up on me yet.”

“Same,” you murmur. Your lips curve into a faint, sad smile. “But for the record, it would take a lot more than Min Yoongi to make me give up on you.”

Jeongguk picks up the banana milk and rolls the bottle slowly between his palms, glancing at you once but not saying anything. You let the moment stretch, enjoying the comfortable silence, now that everything has settled.

Then his phone buzzes, and the spell breaks.

Jeongguk sighs as he pulls it from his pocket, thumb swiping across the screen. “Fuck,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “I wanna walk you down, but Sejin wants me to meet with one of the vocal coaches in a few minutes.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you say quickly, waving him off. “I’ll let myself out.”

“You sure?” he asks, eyebrows lifting.

“You’ve got zero faith in me, Jeon Jeongguk,” you tease, earning a soft smile from him. “I can use an elevator.”

Jeongguk laughs under his breath. “Okay, okay.” He stands, tucking his phone away. “Well… I’ll text you, okay?”

You nod. “And I’ll text you back this time.”

He starts to turn toward the door, hand on the doorknob already, but something sparks in your chest—nerves or hope or maybe both—and before you can second-guess it, you speak up.

“Hey!”

He pauses, looking back.

“Uh. There’s this thing next Saturday night,” you begin, the words spilling out in a rush. “A perfume launch I’m being forced to go to. I usually hate those events, but… wanna come with? Do the public-facing part? Open bar. Could be fun.”

“Ah, um.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I would, but… It’s noona’s birthday.”

“Oh!” you blurt, a little too brightly. “Right. Yeah.”

“Yeah.” He looks faintly guilty. “And now that I’m back in Seoul, I—”

“No, I get it,” you say, cutting in before he can keep going. You swallow down the quiet, unexpected sting of disappointment. “That’s way more important. Don’t sweat it.”

“You sure?” His brow knits, eyes searching your face.

You force your lips into a smile, make your voice sound certain. “One hundred percent. I just wanted to offer.”

Jeongguk nods, visibly relieved. “Well… thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” You gesture toward the door. “Now go to your meeting.”

Jeongguk chuckles, reaching for the handle again. “I’m going, I’m going.”

And then he’s gone, the door shutting behind him with a soft click.

★ ★ ★

Eunwoo is nowhere to be found when you leave the practice room, probably off escorting another visitor around. 

The halls are surprisingly quiet for midday. You keep walking, slow and meandering. You don’t have anywhere to be for a while, so you wander. Think. Process.

Everything went… well. Better than you expected, honestly. Jeongguk was kind. Forgiving, even. You didn’t deserve that. And still, he gave it to you.

And you?

You lied to him.

You can still hear the words falling from your lips. How easy it was to bend the truth, to frame it in a way that would make you look like someone he could still trust. To push all of the blame on someone else. You’d come here with the intention of being honest, with the hope that confessing everything would free you from the pit that’s been hollowing out your chest for weeks. Instead, you chose comfort. Self-preservation. Whatever version of you he still wanted to believe in.

You feel sick about it. Grateful and awful, all at once.

The hallway stretches on, and you follow it without thinking. The walls here are different from the sterile ones in your own building. Sleek, sure, but full of warmth. Color. Memory.

Photographs line the corridor in neat black frames. High-res shots from concerts and tour stops, behind-the-scenes moments caught in candid black and white. A timeline of Burn The Stage’s rise. 

There’s Jeongguk on stage in Tokyo, crouched low with his mic held out to the screaming crowd. Taehyung grinning mid-strum on his bass guitar. Jimin, soaked in sweat, laughing with his drumsticks raised.

And Yoongi—never center stage, but always present. A shadow behind Jeongguk’s spotlight, fingers curled over his guitar neck, gaze cast downward. 

You stop in front of a larger canvas print. Burn The Stage at their first sold-out arena show. Yoongi’s got his arm thrown lazily over Jeongguk’s shoulders. They’re both drenched in sweat, beaming at something off-camera, caught in the afterglow of a perfect night. It makes your stomach twist.

Because here’s the thing: no matter how messy it got, no matter how much they might be hurting right now, there’s a history between them that you can’t touch. You’re the disruption. The outsider. You’ve known Jeongguk for a year. Yoongi? Barely at all. But somehow, you’ve managed to wedge yourself into the fault line between them and split it wide open.

And you don’t even know what you want.

You’re turning away from the photo when you feel it—that unmistakable shift in energy, like a cold wind curling at the back of your neck. 

One of the studio doors eases open with a soft mechanical click, and Yoongi steps out.

He hasn’t seen you yet, somehow, though you’re laughably close. He’s too busy looking down at his phone, one hand in the pocket of his dark cargo pants. 

He looks… fuck. His jacket is a deep, bruised purple with mixed textures: ribbed sleeves, paneled faux suede. The black tee underneath is teasingly fitted, a glimpse of the muscle you had to feel for yourself to believe.

But that’s not what fucks you up.

It’s the hair.

Pulled back. Tied off, sleek and neat at the crown of his head, a few strands brushing loose near his ears. It's too good. Too unfair. It sharpens every angle of his face—his jaw, his cheekbones, the curve of his throat.

You shouldn’t.

God, you know you shouldn’t.

You’ve already lied to Jeongguk once today. Lied to his face—looked into those kind, trusting eyes and chose the easier version of the truth. The quieter one. The one that doesn’t crack your friendship down the middle.

And this—standing here, watching Yoongi like you're waiting for the chance to fold yourself back into something reckless—this is exactly what got you into all this mess in the first place.

The way your body reacts to him before your brain even catches up. The way your heart stutters just because he looks good in a fucking jacket and has his hair tied up. The way he hasn’t even seen you yet, and still, you’re already cataloguing all of the little things about him that drive you crazy.

You hate yourself for it.

You shouldn’t be feeling any of this. You shouldn’t want anything from him.

But the thing that settles in your chest is resentment—not at him, not even at Jeongguk. At the impossible standard you’ve somehow found yourself crushed beneath.

Why can’t you make a mistake?

Why can’t you do something messy, something selfish, something human—without it immediately defining the worst parts of you?

Something inside of you snaps.

Mind blank, you grab Yoongi’s wrist harshly and pull, fingernails gripping wool so tightly you’re in danger of tearing into the fabric.

“What the fuck—” Yoongi hisses, stumbling after you, but you’re not listening. You’re moving on autopilot, acting on instinct alone. You navigate the hallway of the unfamiliar building like a madwoman, trying to find somewhere private. “Yah, let me go!”

You ignore his protests, pulling harder, and your eyes zero in on a promising spot. It’s the first door you’ve seen that isn’t glass or locked or labeled conference room.

Supply closet. Sure.

The shelves inside rattle with the force of the door slamming behind you. Yoongi yanks his wrist away instantly, shaking it out with a wince. 

“Are you insane?” he snaps. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Shut up,” you interrupt, locking the door with intent. You turn to him with wild eyes, chest heaving. “You win.”

He stares at you like you’ve lost your damn mind. “What are you even talking about?” he asks, still clutching his wrist like a goddamn manchild. Like it isn’t killing you how shamelessly you’re offering yourself to him, on a silver platter. 

Okay, fuck. You’ll spell it out for him, then. It doesn’t matter.

“Fuck me.”

Yoongi blinks, stunned. “Fuck—”

“Yes, Yoongi,” you huff, impatient. You step into his space and touch because you can’t help yourself, your hands skimming over the smooth suede of his jacket and then under, to the soft cotton of his black shirt. Feeling the lean muscle beneath. “Fuck me. Right now.”

Apparently, that’s all he needs.

You gasp as Yoongi grabs your hips and whirls you around, shoving you firmly toward the nearest shelf. Your palms splay over it to catch yourself, wood digging into your skin as your body braces.

“You really wanna do this here?” he mutters, voice low, nearly a growl as he crowds you from behind.

“I dragged you in here, didn’t I?” you shoot back breathlessly.

He huffs a dry laugh, shoving his jacket down his shoulders and tossing it aside. “Crazy fucking woman.”

You hold yourself steady as his hands push the hem of your dress up over your ass.

“This what you want, dollface?” he murmurs, breath skating over your ear. Your panties are roughly pushed down your thighs as he speaks, pooling uselessly around your ankles.

“Yes,” you gasp, pushing back against him. You can feel the thick ridge of his cock through his jeans, pressed against your bare ass. Embarrassment and desire curl up together in your stomach, indistinguishable from each other.

“Fuck, look at you,” Yoongi hisses, grinding forward so you can feel him better. “You want it so bad. How the hell am I supposed to say no, huh?”

“Fucking—get on with it already,” you grit out. “I’m not here to talk.”

“Fine,” he says. “I’ll just have to use my mouth for something else, then.”

Oh, fuck.

You whip your head around fast, but not fast enough. Yoongi’s already dropping to his knees behind you, spreading your pussy with his thumbs.

“Yoongi, I don’t need—” 

Your sentence dies in your throat, cut off by the sound of your own surprised moan as his tongue licks a flat, filthy stripe through your folds.

You lurch forward, forearms braced on the shelf as your whole body shudders. His piercing flicks against your clit, and the sensation makes your vision go white for a split second.

“Holy fuck,” you moan. Yoongi hums against you, firm hands holding you open as he devours you, tongue delving deep. “Yoongi, fuck, that’s—”

Yoongi tsks, pulling away suddenly with a sharp slap to your ass. “Noisy girl,” he chastises. “Moaning my name like you wanna get caught.”

The thought sobers you, if only for a moment. Yeah, no—no. The thought of being caught, who might catch you, sends a chill down your spine. You know exactly who is in this building right now. You need to pull yourself together.

“I’ll be quiet, just—” You steady yourself on the shelf, panting against your crossed arms. “Fuck me already.”

“Impatient,” he huffs. 

You hear the shuffle of movement behind you, the sound of his zipper dragging down. Your stomach flips. 

After a moment, you feel the nudge of Yoongi’s cock against your entrance, and you try to wiggle back again on instinct. There’s a sharp huff of amusement against your neck, but to your frustration, he doesn’t give in yet.

“Say please,” Yoongi says, smug.

Bastard.

“Fuck you,” you spit.

“Getting there, dollface,” he teases, running the thick head of his cock through your folds just to be an asshole. “Just wanna hear you beg a little first. Since you want it so bad.”

You grit your teeth, pride clashing hard with want, but your body betrays you. Your thighs are trembling, cunt clenching around nothing, begging for fullness. For him.

“Please,” you whisper, broken and raw. “Yoongi, please fuck me.”

“That’s better.”

Yoongi sinks into you so slowly that your knees threaten to buckle.

Inch by agonizing inch, and it hits so deep your eyes flutter, mouth falling open and nails biting into wood. You can feel every detail of him. He’s thick, god, impossibly thick. The stretch burns in the best way, your walls aching to adjust but slick enough to take him, take all of him. 

When he bottoms out, your moan of relief is caught instantly by his hand, clamping tight over your mouth before you can make another sound.

“Quiet,” he reminds you, and you nod, centering yourself.

He gives you a moment to adjust, then draws his hips back and fucks forward hard.

“Shit, you’re tight,” Yoongi hisses, strained. “Fucking squeezing my cock.” 

He sets a brutal rhythm right away. His hips slam into the backs of your thighs so roughly that the shelves rattle with the force. Every thrust rocks you forward, and every retreat pulls a whimper from your throat as your walls try to keep him inside.

You can’t see him like this, and it feels like every other sense burns hot and sharp in its place. You can feel him—so thick, so deep, each stroke making you choke on your breath. You can hear the slick, obscene sound of your cunt, wet beyond reason, practically sucking him in.

“Oh my god,” you try to say, but it’s just a muffled sob against his hand.

He fucks you harder, one hand gripping your hip tight enough to bruise, the other keeping you silenced, helpless and pressed to the shelf. Something falls and topples to the floor, but it barely registers. Your breasts are squished against the wood, aching with every thrust. You can feel the slick mess between your thighs, every wet slap of skin-on-skin echoing obscenely in the cramped closet.

“Goddamn, you’re soaked,” Yoongi growls, hips snapping into you again. “You hear that, dollface?”

You do. The sound is filthy, each thrust punching a wet, obscene squelch into the air. Your cunt clenches tight around him, and he groans, deep and raw.

“Oh, fuck, you’re close, huh?” he asks, and your responding whimper is so pathetic your cheeks burn. 

His rhythm falters for half a second, just long enough for him to yank your leg up onto the lowest shelf, opening you more. Making it deeper. He lets go of your mouth to spit in his hand, reaching around to rub your clit in merciless circles.

And oh, fuck, you can’t be quiet anymore.

“Yoongi,” you sob, “I—oh my god, please—”

The hand gripping your leg moves fast to cover your mouth again as he toys with your clit, but your body’s already unraveling. Everything clenches down, heat flaring white-hot in your belly as your cunt clamps around his cock. You bite down onto the meat of his palm, muffling your scream as you come hard.

Yoongi hisses at the bite, swearing low and dirty in your ear. His hips stutter, rhythm turning ragged as your walls flutter around his cock.

And then you feel it. 

He pulses inside you with a groan pulled deep from his chest, fucking you through it as his cum fills you up. Thick and hot, leaking already as he keeps grinding through it, wringing every last drop from himself, every aftershock from you.

Yoongi’s weight leans into your back, both of you breathless, hearts hammering. The air smells like sweat and sex, and the only sound is the shallow drag of your breathing in tandem, syncing up as you both come down.

After a moment, his hand finally slips from your mouth. You suck in a shaky breath, lips slick with spit.

Your knees barely hold as Yoongi pulls out, and you feel it—his cum leaking down your thighs before you can so much as catch your breath. 

You don’t dare look at him.

You feel empty. Fucked open. Raw in every sense of the word.

You hear the rustle of fabric as he probably pulls up his pants, zips himself back in. You stay where you are, bent over, trying to breathe.

“You okay?” he asks.

And that—that pisses you the fuck off.

You turn to him. His jacket is back on, his pants zipped like nothing happened. Meanwhile, you’re still shaking, your dress is still hiked up.

“Don’t,” you say, voice hoarse.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t ask if I’m okay,” you snap. “We both know what this was.”

He just watches you. Doesn’t argue. Doesn’t apologize either.

There’s a thick, awful silence after that, and you fill it with movement. You pull your panties back up and fix your dress. The mess between your thighs presents a problem, but it’s nothing you can’t conceal with your underwear for now. You grab the doorknob and unlock it with a shaky hand, peeking out to make sure the hallway is empty.

Thank fucking god.

“Don’t fucking follow me,” you say, fixing him with the most withering look you can muster, and Yoongi only raises his hands in surrender, bewildered.

It feels like stepping out of a crime scene. You take a few unsteady steps forward, one arm clutching your bag to your chest, the other dragging your hand along the wall to stay upright.

Every movement is careful. Every step makes you feel it. The soreness, the wetness, the truth of what you’ve done. You should find a bathroom. Clean up. Compose yourself. Hide.

But you don’t. You keep walking.

Because stopping means thinking. And if you start thinking, really thinking, you’re not sure you’ll be able to handle what you find.

Fuck, fuck fuck.

★ ★ ★

For the first time in months, you’re alone. Like, actually alone.

No texts buzzing your phone. No voice echoing from the other room, asking if you’ve eaten. No arms around your waist in the morning. Just you, in the silence of your apartment.

It should come as a relief. 

It was only a matter of time before Kihyun dumped you. You shouldn’t have let it drag on for as long as you did. You should’ve ended it yourself. But you didn’t, because—

Because what? You were lonely?

Because it was easier to keep going than it was to look at yourself in the mirror and admit you were never really in it?

Kihyun was good to you. Kind, not performative. He remembered the little things, like how you took your coffee, where your neck always ached when you slept too stiffly. He was attentive, thoughtful, patient. You were physically attracted to him from the first date. And although the sex wasn’t the kind of thing that rewired your brain or left your limbs shaking, it was… nice. Gentle. Consensual. Consistent.

You could’ve built something with him.

But you didn’t.

Because it’s you. It’s always you.

You never opened up. You held him at a distance, even when he offered you all his softness, even when he asked—gently, again and again—to be let in.

You didn’t ask about his family. You forgot his best friend’s name—Yoo-something? You nodded along when he talked about writing music but never followed up. And when he invited you to dinners or birthdays or afterparties, you begged off every time with some excuse about your busy schedule.

You didn’t mean to hurt him. You just… didn’t care. Not really. Not about his world. Not about yours, either.

And still, he tried.

You can’t get the last few hours out of your head. He invited you over, said he wanted to talk, and you knew immediately that it was going to end. You’d felt it for weeks, hadn’t you? Maybe longer.

You almost didn’t go, but guilt won out. You showed up, and you thought—maybe you’d get one last night. One last kiss goodbye.

Instead, you got a fight.

“You don’t even care about me, YN,” Kihyun said, voice shaking. “You cling to me on red carpets, post about me on Instagram, kiss me in front of photographers—but when it’s just us? Do you even know anything about me?”

You’d accused him of being dramatic. He’d accused you of using him. Connections. Comfort. The appearance of stability he offered you.

You’d both yelled. Loud and bitter. And then there were tears. His, not yours. You just stared at the floor while he filled a box with your things and said he hoped you got whatever you were chasing.

When you finally walked out, you didn’t even look back.

Now, hours later, you sit on the floor of your apartment, hollowed out. The lights are off. Your coat is still on. You haven’t even taken off your shoes.

You don’t feel relieved. You feel sick with yourself, and you don’t know what to do with it.

There’s a bottle of vodka in your kitchen cabinet. You’ve never been much of a drinker—too many calories, too many headaches, too much loss of control—but tonight? Tonight, you need something to dull the pain.

You don’t bother with a glass. You drink it straight, the burn lighting a trail down your throat that feels like punishment.

You’re halfway to drunk when you grab your phone. The screen glows blue, too bright in the dark. You open Twitter.

You should stop yourself, but you’ve never been good at self-control.

@ynonline: i’m sorry i ruined it

A cry for help in lowercase letters. A digital bloodletting to no one in particular.

And then you keep drinking.

★ ★ ★

You can’t stop laughing. Your behavior lately has been so goddamn out of character, all you can do is laugh. It bubbles out of you, ugly and gasping, half-drunk and half-delirious, echoing through the kitchen like it doesn’t belong to you at all. The wine in your glass is mostly gone, and the second bottle on the table is already open.

You don’t know what’s going on with you. You don’t know when you lost the plot so severely that you started fucking people like Min Yoongi in closets.

How good it felt doesn’t matter. How badly you missed being kissed and touched by another person doesn’t fucking matter. Because you don’t recognize yourself anymore. And that’s funny. Like, laugh-until-you-cry funny. Because if you don’t laugh, you’ll spiral. You’ll fall into the cavern of shame that’s been yawning open beneath your feet ever since Yoongi touched you and you let him.

You’re in the middle of telling Seokjin about your week—or, at least, you’re trying to between wheezes. He’s listening intently across from you, brow furrowed and lips twitching with amusement as he tries to translate your garbled speech.

“You know,” he says dryly, “I could’ve predicted this.”

You snort so hard it turns into a hiccup. “What? All I’ve done is complain about him for weeks.”

Seokjin raises a brow. “Yeah, well. You know what they say about the fine line between love and hate.”

“Oh, believe me, we are still firmly planted in the hate camp.” You lean forward, elbow slipping slightly on the table. “It’s gonna take more than some halfway decent stroke game to change that.”

“Halfway decent, she says,” Seokjin mutters, lifting his glass to his mouth, “even though you’ve barely been able to talk about anything else for the past hour. No ‘hello, Seokjin. How has your week at the hospital been? Save any children lately?’”

You wave your hand at him. “Are you saying you aren’t entertained?”

“No, please.” He leans back in his chair, smirking. “Go on.”

Your eyes light up with memory. “Oh my god. Last week, I sent him these pictures—”

Jin frowns. “Wait, what—?”

“Look!” you cry, fishing your phone out of the pocket of your leggings. You tap open your texts with The Devil himself, dropping the phone onto your kitchen table with a clatter that makes Seokjin wince.

Normally, he’d be blushing already, flailing, sputtering something dramatic and prudish. He’s always been weird about this stuff. But this time, he doesn’t even crack a joke.

Instead, when he picks it up, his eyes widen into saucers. You watch as he fiddles with the phone in his hands, tapping into the first picture.

“YN, you didn’t—”

“Look at what he said!”

“You sent him these?” he asks, swiping out of the photos and back to the texts to confirm what he’s already seen.

The tone of his voice makes you pause. You try to catch your breath, wiping the tears from your eyes.

“What’s the big deal?” you ask, making a face. “They’re, like, tasteful.”

“They’re nudes.”

“I’m wearing underwear!”

“They’re nudes,” Seokjin repeats, like you’re stupid or something. 

What the fuck? Why does he sound so mad?

“They’re just pictures,” you mumble, snatching your phone out of his hands and clutching it to your chest.

“Yeah,” he scoffs. “Because pictures like that have done you so many favors in the past.”

All of the alcohol-induced warmth rushing through your bloodstream evaporates in an instant.

“What the fuck, Seokjin?”

“I can’t believe you would do something so stupid, YN. After everything that’s happened—”

"Shut up!"

“—and you don’t even trust the guy,” he continues. “Less than a month ago, you were telling me you thought he knew—”

“Seokjin, shut up—”

“—It’s like you want bad things to happen to you, I swear.”

Something in your chest cracks open. Seokjin has never, ever implied that you were in any way at fault for what happened years ago. Even when you felt it yourself. He’s the only one who has been on your side this whole time. Unwavering.

Until now. Until Yoongi.

“Get out,” you say, voice cold.

“YN, I’m just trying—”

“Get. Out.”

He stares at you like he’s still catching up, like he doesn’t realize what he just said out loud. His mouth opens, then closes. You see the apology start to form behind his eyes, but it’s already too late.

You stand. Point to the door. “Don’t make me say it again.”

Seokjin stands slowly, reluctantly, like his limbs are made of cement. He grabs his keys from the table, fingers twitching.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m just… I’m scared for you.”

You don’t respond. Don’t even look at him. The door clicks shut behind him, and then you’re alone, still clutching your phone, wine forgotten.

And all that laughter? Gone.

★ ★ ★

You don’t sleep much.

Your body gives out around 4 a.m., but it’s not so much sleep as blackout, your limbs too heavy to move and your mind too exhausted to keep turning things over. But it’s not restful. You wake up dry-mouthed and nauseous, tangled in the sheets like you fought a war in your sleep.

The fight with Seokjin rings in your ears, louder now in the cruel quiet of the morning. 

“It’s like you want bad things to happen to you.”

There’s no more wine in your system to dull those words. They weren’t fair. You’re still furious. Still hurt. But the longer you sit with it, the more panicked you become.

Because he wasn’t wrong.

You have been reckless. You did send Yoongi those pictures without thinking. Not because you trusted him, but because you wanted him to look at you. To want you. And Seokjin’s words force you to think.

Because what if he still has them? What if he shows someone?

What if you’ve made another mistake that you can’t come back from?

You drag yourself out of bed, slow and sick, your whole body moving like it’s underwater. The nausea doesn’t fade as you brush your teeth. It only gets worse. You barely manage to brush your teeth without hurting yourself, scrubbing hard like it’ll erase your words last night. But nothing helps.

Once you’re out of the bathroom, you throw on the first clothes you can find. Clean enough, mismatched, whatever.

You don’t have Yoongi’s address, so you text Namjoon. It’s early, and you don’t expect him to respond, but he replies immediately.

Kim Namjoon: Is everything okay???

You: i just need it

You: please

You: you got my address from seoyeon, sooooo

There’s a pause, then an address. You don’t offer thanks, even though you do like Namjoon. He owes you this.

You call an Uber and sit in the backseat with your arms crossed tightly over your chest, barely able to breathe. Every bump in the road jolts your stomach. By the time the car pulls up to Yoongi’s apartment, your nerves are a live wire, ready to snap.

When you get up to his door, you don’t knock gently. You pound.

It takes a moment. Nearly longer than you can take, honestly, with how wigged out you are. But right when you’re about to raise your fist again, the door swings open, and there he is.

Yoongi, bleary-eyed and hair mussed like he’s just rolled out of bed. His stupid sweatshirt has rips across one shoulder, bare skin peeking out from beneath, like he isn’t a rich rockstar who can afford nice clothes. Everything about the sight of him makes you angry. 

“...Hi?” he says cautiously.

“I need you to delete them,” you blurt.

He stares at you for a second, blinking awake. “...What?”

“The pictures,” you say, voice too loud, too fast. “The ones I sent you last week. I need you to delete them. Like, now.”

You push past him and barge inside, uncaring of whether he was actually planning on letting you in. 

He shuts the door behind you and turns around slowly, regarding you like a spooked animal. “What happened?”

“Yoongi,” you snap, “I’m not here to explain myself. I just want to watch you delete them.”

Yoongi holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay. Okay, yeah. I can do that.”

He fishes his phone from the pocket of his sweatshirt and unlocks it. You hover over his shoulder while his fingers move on the screen. It doesn’t take him long to find them. You watch as his thumb hovers over the images. One tap, two taps, three.

Deleted.

He goes to the trash folder. Deletes them again.

Then he turns the phone around, still unlocked, and holds it out to you. “Check it if you want.”

You take it, hands clammy, and check all the possible places. Empty. 

“Okay,” you say, taking a much-needed breath.

Yoongi watches you for a moment longer, something you can’t name flickering over his expression.

“I know I haven’t given you any reasons to think I’m the best guy in the world,” he says. “But I wouldn’t have shown those to anyone. Not ever.”

You want to believe that. Want to grab onto it like a lifeline. But you’re not exactly Yoongi’s number one fan, and this isn’t a matter of trust anymore—it’s survival.

And even if you were a fan of his, Seokjin was right. This isn’t something you can afford to risk.

You nod, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “Well, you can’t, now. So.”

An awkward silence settles between you.

You’re not sure if you feel better. You don’t think you do.

Yoongi gestures toward the kitchen. “You want coffee?”

You hesitate. Under normal circumstances, you’d laugh in his face. You and Yoongi don’t hang out, like, historically. Fight, sure. Make poor sexual decisions together, absolutely. But hang out and share coffee? It seems unthinkable.

But at the same time, you’re still rattled, and getting into another bumpy Uber doesn’t sound particularly appealing right now. And Yoongi isn’t being… totally unbearable. It was shockingly easy to get him to delete those pictures, despite the way you’d built it up in your head.

“…Yeah,” you say finally. “Okay.”

Yoongi hands you a chipped black mug without saying much, and you murmur a quiet thanks as you curl your fingers around it. The heat seeps into your palms.

The two of you stand in his tiny kitchen like strangers, the silence too loaded to be easy. He leans against the counter opposite you, sipping from his own mug, eyes flicking toward you every few seconds like he’s trying to work up the nerve to say something.

Instead, you settle into the pathetic choreography of small talk.

“So… this is your place, huh,” you offer.

Yoongi glances around. “Yeah.”

“It’s big.”

“It’s too big,” he says, and, yeah. It is. Big and mostly empty. It almost seems like no one lives here, from where you’re standing.

You shrug. “Still. The quiet must be nice.”

Yoongi huffs out a small laugh. “It was,” he says pointedly, “until someone ruined my beauty sleep.”

You try not to bristle. He doesn’t sound like he’s trying to be mean, and you don’t have the energy to argue with him anyway. “Sorry.”

Yoongi shrugs. “I’ve had worse wake-up calls.”

Neither of you mentions what happened the other day. The closet. The rough, desperate way he fucked you. The way you begged for it.

Instead, you sip your coffee in silence.

“I, uh,” Yoongi starts, then cuts himself off with a quiet exhale. “I should probably go shower soon.”

You nod like that’s news you needed, staring into your mug. “Right.”

You hear the click of his mug being set down gently on the counter. “Dollface.”

You look up, partially in response to the name. Mostly because of the cautious tone in his voice. Terrifingly, you have no idea what he’s about to say.

Yoongi shifts on his feet, mouth twisting like he’s really weighing his next words before he speaks.

“Do you want to come with me?”

Oh.

Huh.

Your breath stutters. Your spine straightens just slightly.

He’s not teasing. Not playing. Not doing any of the mean things you’ve learned to associate with Yoongi since you’ve met. He’s just asking quietly, like it’s a real offer. Like there’s no pressure attached, even though the weight of it sits heavily between you.

There are a million reasons you should say no and go home. One of which being, well, the reason you’re here in the first place. You don’t trust him. You don’t like him. You keep making terrible, life-ruining decisions with him.

But still, there’s this thought in the back of your mind, half-formed but louder than all the rest. 

You’re so tired of punishing yourself for every impulse, every need. Tired of denying yourself the right to fuck up. To make mistakes.

Sending the pictures was unforgivably stupid, yes, you’ll give Seokjin that. But despite your panic in the immediate aftermath, fucking Yoongi felt good. Mind-blowingly good. Like something inside you finally got to breathe after being locked up too long.

Jeongguk doesn’t know. And as guilty as it makes you feel, he doesn’t have to know, as long as Yoongi keeps his mouth shut. Judging by the state of that friendship right now, you have a feeling he will.

So.

You set your mug down carefully, meeting his eyes.

“Yeah,” you say. “I do.”

Yoongi nods once and then turns, walking down the short hall that leads to his bedroom. You follow wordlessly, heart thudding in your throat. 

When you step into his bedroom, you feel like you’ve crossed into something irreversible. Yoongi opens the door to the master bathroom while you linger in the sparseness of the space, eyes fixed on his king bed. Charcoal sheets, rumpled on one side and perfectly smooth on the other. 

The sound of the shower squeaking to life brings you back to the moment and forces you to take a few more steps. You hover in the doorway of the bathroom. Steam begins to curl around the room, warm and beckoning.

Yoongi looks over his shoulder.

"You coming?"

You cross the threshold.

Yoongi turns to face you, backlit by rising steam. He doesn’t touch you. Not yet. Just watches you for a second, like he’s waiting to see if you’ll change your mind.

You don’t.

You peel off your sweater first, then your shirt, then your bra. You catch the flicker in his expression when your breasts fall free. His gaze trails down your body, and when your leggings hit the floor, he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for days.

Yoongi steps towards you and cradles your jaw in his palm, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. 

“I haven’t stopped thinking about your pussy for days,” he rasps, and your knees go weak.

Before you can say anything in response—before you can even breathe properly, he leans in and kisses you. Slow and sure, but greedy too. You kiss him back, moaning when his tongue slips into your mouth.

You shove your hands up the hem of his tattered sweatshirt, pushing it up his torso impatiently. Yoongi hums into your mouth, pulling back just long enough to tug it over his head and toss it to the floor. Then he steps out of his sweatpants and briefs in one fluid motion, unabashed.

You’d barely seen him last time, but now, you get a full, unhurried look. Smooth, pale skin. His cock is thick and flushed, already half-hard and growing the longer you look. Your thighs press together instinctively.

He tugs you gently into the shower by your hand, pulling the glass door closed behind you. The water is hot and heavy, already soaking your hair, dripping down your back. Yoongi presses you against the tiled wall, hands sliding along your waist like he’s been starving for this.

His mouth finds yours again, and your teeth clack together as you kiss him back. One of his hands slides up your spine, cupping the back of your neck to keep you close, while the other moves over the curve of your ass, squeezing.

“Always such a fuckin’ brat,” he murmurs against your lips, “until I get my hands on you.”

You mewl when he palms your breast, thumbing your nipple until it’s stiff. His other hand dips lower, sliding between your legs, fingers finding you embarrassingly wet even under the spray of the shower.

You gasp when he presses a finger inside, then a second, curling them just right. Your legs threaten to give out, but he hooks an arm around your waist to keep you upright, keeping you wide open for him.

“I could make you come just like this,” Yoongi says, fucking his fingers into you slow and deep. “But you want more, don’t you?”

“Yoongi—” you gasp, eyes squeezing shut.

“Tell me what you want,” he says as he kisses a heated line from your jaw to your throat. “Tell me how you want it.”

“Inside,” you pant. “I want you inside me.”

He growls—actually growls—and pulls his fingers out, lifting your leg to wrap around his waist. His cock slides through your folds, notching against your entrance as the hot water rushes down both your bodies. His forehead rests against yours.

“You’re sure?”

“Just fuck me,” you murmur, and that’s all it takes.

He slides in slowly, both of you groaning in unison at the feeling. The stretch is deep, bordering on painful, but so fucking good. He doesn’t move for a second, just holds you there, buried to the hilt.

“Fuck, you take me so well,” he groans, bracing himself with one hand on the wall behind you. You moan, high and raw, and he starts to move.

His hips drive forward again and again, the sound of skin slapping echoing sharply in the tiled space, mixing with the hiss of the shower and the ragged breathing between you. Your hands scramble for purchase at his shoulders, his neck, his biceps—anything to anchor yourself.

He fucks you like that for a while. Deep, heavy strokes, hips rolling into you like a tide. Your legs shake. Your cunt flutters around him, tight and desperate.

“Yoongi, please,” you moan, even though you’re not quite sure what you’re begging for. 

He hitches your thigh higher around his hip, opening the angle. Like this, every thrust has his cock pinpoint that spot inside of you, the one you struggle to reach on your own. A strangled cry is punched out of you in response and Yoongi groans, forehead pressed to yours. 

“Touch yourself,” he rasps. “Let me see.”

Your hand drops between your legs, and it only takes a few circles around your clit before you’re gasping his name, walls clenching around him. He watches as he fucks you through it, moaning as you squeeze around his cock.

His thrusts grow sloppy, unable to hold back any longer, and then he’s pulling out quickly, spilling onto the shower floor with a curse. His forehead drops to your shoulder, lips parting against your damp skin. You feel his chest rise and fall against yours, both of you trembling from the high.

Neither of you speaks.

For a long moment, there’s only the deafening beat of water against tile and the slow comedown of your heart rate. Your thighs ache. Your skin is flushed. His cum washes away down the drain between your feet, a quiet, shameful stream of evidence.

Shit.

You’re the first to move.

Gently, you press your palm to his chest, signaling space. Yoongi lets go. Steps back.

The warmth of his body leaves yours all at once, and the shower suddenly feels colder, emptier, even with the steam still thick in the air.

“I just…” you start, voice thin and heart pounding. “I need a minute.”

You don’t look at him as you reach for the glass door, slipping out of the stall on shaky legs. You find a towel draped neatly on the bar just outside the shower and wrap it around yourself, not bothering to dry off properly. The towel sticks to your skin, damp and clingy. You think you feel his eyes on you through the glass, but you can’t bear to check.

You grab your clothes from the floor and step out into the bedroom. The room is still dim, the curtains drawn, the gray light of morning barely filtering in. You dress in silence, and when you’re done, you sit on the edge of Yoongi’s bed until you hear the squeak of the faucet as it shuts off. When the bathroom door opens, you lift your head.

He emerges wrapped at the waist in a towel, hair dripping. He’s rubbing at his head with another towel as he steps into the room and freezes when he sees you.

“You actually stayed,” he says, like he hadn’t expected that.

You shrug, barely meeting his gaze. “Didn’t seem right to sneak out.”

Yoongi watches you, still drying his hair. After a moment, he sits next to you.

“Do you want to talk about it this time?”

Your stomach turns. “What is there to talk about?”

“You didn’t really give me the impression you were interested in round two, the other day.”

“I wasn’t,” you say flatly.

“And yet here we are,” he says in kind, gesturing between you. “I’m just wondering what I should expect, moving forward.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “No, you just want me to admit you were right.”

Yoongi scoffs. “I’m getting sick of people telling me I don’t mean what I say.”

Jesus.

You frown. You have no clue what he means by that—and honestly, you don’t care. Not right now. So you stay quiet.

He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Look,” he continues, “we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. It’s not fun if you’re not into it. But I need to know where we stand. So tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking about how much I hate you,” you snap, on instinct.

Yoongi shrugs. “Okay. That’s not new information. Didn’t stop you from fucking me twice, though. Two and a half, if we’re splitting hairs.”

“Clearly,” you reply bitterly. 

His expression doesn’t change. “Hate me all you want, dollface. I’m not asking you not to.” He tilts his head just slightly. “Are we doing this or not?”

You stare at him for a long moment, on the edge of something dangerous.

You think about the way it felt when he touched you. The way he looked at you. The way your body still feels like it’s buzzing from the inside out.

This is a mistake. You know it. You named it. But that little thought that started to form inside you earlier is louder now, stronger, and it won’t let you walk away, even though all the logic in the world tells you that you should.

“Yeah,” you say finally. “We are.”

Yoongi nods like he’d already known the answer. “Okay. Great. Glad we could clear that up,” he says, unbothered. “You feel free to let me know if you change your mind.”

And then he stands, towel low on his hips, and walks across the room to get dressed.

Fucking asshole. 

You can’t stand how he can just act like this is easy for him. Like it should be easy for you. Like going behind the back of his best friend doesn’t bother him in the slightest. 

Worst of all, you hate how it still feels like Yoongi has the upper hand. 

Desperate to get it back, you stand. “Hey.”

Yoongi hums from where he’s rummaging through a drawer in his dresser, half-turned but not looking at you. 

“My deal with Jeongguk is still on,” you say, crossing your arms with finality. “Just so you know.”

You hope it’ll get some kind of reaction out of him. He pauses what he’s doing, gaze flicking to you for a second, and you search for any indication that he’ll falter. 

But then he shrugs, turning back to the drawer. “I don’t see what that has to do with me,” he grumbles. 

Right.

Annoyed, you twist the knob of his bedroom door, swinging it open. 

“Just keep your mouth shut about this,” you say over your shoulder, aiming to hurt. “Some of us are actually in his good graces.”

You don’t stay to see his reaction.

You wonder, as you show yourself out of Yoongi’s apartment, if this is actually going to be easy at all.

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[neeeooon]

can…. Can…. Can we get reader who works at mcdonalds and they meet Nagi there and its just a crack fic basically i would gigfle GIFGLE FGIGGLE KILL ME??!!! giggle oh my god

- rin anon

HELP I LOVE THIS. YES.

fries in the bag

nagi seishiro x gn!reader. crack. platonic?? with a little smth at the end?? cussing!

“alright, gang! this is nagi. he’ll be on drive-thru with you, y/n.”

you groaned. the last three people they hired were shit, and you’d just gotten a scolding for “training them so poorly” when it was never your job to train in the first place.

rather than talk back to your boss (again. you were on thin ice, apparently), you forced a tight smile and said, “great. welcome to the team.”

the boy with white hair didn’t smile back. “thanks.”

rude, you thought to yourself, and after sharing a look with a few of your more reliable co-workers, you knew they were thinking the same.

you almost laughed when one mouthed, “okay, but why is he actually fine as fuck?”

though it wasn’t your job, you took pity on the new guy when you found him fumbling while adjusting his headset. “here,” you began, silently holding your hand out for the headset. nagi gave it to you with a defeated sigh, and you smirked before adjusting it and placing it over his hat. “it’s gotta click, otherwise the notches aren’t in place, and it’ll come loose.”

“thanks,” nagi said when you took a step back, and it sounded more genuine this time.

as you walked him through opening duties and showed him where everything was, you decided to strike up some casual conversation. “so, what do you do? besides this, i mean.”

nagi shrugged. “soccer.”

“soccer. cool.” you pursed your lips, giving him three seconds to elaborate before moving on. “the others and i in our age group are only here to make money for tuition. it’s not easy, and the customers can be complete assholes, but the pay is surprisingly good. you get a lot of tips and overtime, too.”

nagi nodded as he brushed some crumbs off the counter and onto the floor. your brow twitched. you’d have to sweep them up later.

“what’re the hours again?”

you blew out an irritated breath and waved nagi over as you walked to the weekly schedule. he followed your finger as you dragged it across the calendar. “tsukino makes the schedule. here, give me your number so i can add you to the group chat if you ever need to drop or pick up a shift.”

nagi handed his phone over. you ignored how boring it looked as you typed your number in and sent a text from his phone.

you: shared a new contact!

you: nagi’s number. say hi

a flurry of texts came in, which seemed to slightly startle the white-haired boy. you dropped his phone back into his hand, fingertips slightly grazing his palm. it surprised you how warm he was. “there. you’re set.”

"thanks," nagi replied boredly, shoulders hunched as he followed your boss when he was called over. you watched them leave, intrigued by your new co-worker.

☆ 🍟

nagi wasn't half bad at the job.

he was a little slow and zoned out at times, but he didn’t complain. he listened when you explained something to him, and most importantly, he was good with customers and racked up an insane amount of tips.

“hi. welcome to mcdonald’s. can i take your order?”

“no worries. take your time.”

“nah, it’s cool. sauce is free if you ask.”

"you want the fries in the bag?"

since you were both on drive-thru duty, your headsets were connected. hearing him converse with customers was… oddly sweet. you hated to admit it, but he was the best addition to the team you'd had in a long time.

you were on your break one evening when you found him slumped against the back wall of the storage room, scrolling lazily through his phone. his fingers moved slowly, so you guessed he wasn’t doing anything too important. brushing any nerves aside, you plopped down beside him and held out your packet of fries. nagi looked at you, turned to the fries, and took one without question.

“you’re not the worst new hire we’ve had,” you said after a moment, raising your voice just slightly to be heard over the ice cream machine.

nagi took another one of your fries and chewed. “thanks.”

his reaction made your brows scrunch. is that the only word he knows how to say to me? so much for complimenting him. “the bar was pretty low, just so you know.”

“still. thanks,” he said with a shrug.

you didn't realize until later, while you were both leaning over the fryer basket watching nuggets sizzle, that you kind of liked him. he was quiet, sure, but easy to be around. funny without trying. best of all, nagi made those long, tiring shifts pass by quicker than when you worked with anyone else.

when your shift ended, nagi waited for you to grab your things and held the door open for you. his lip lifted, but just slightly. “see you tomorrow.”

your chest fluttered in a way you did not appreciate. “yeah,” you said, brushing past him lightly. “see you, fry boy.”

nagi blinked. “huh. cute.”

you almost tripped.

[rueclfer]

HAPPY 6K BBY!!!! i’ve had notifs on since 2k im literally so happy for u eeeeee!!!!!

ok wait this req is kinda specific so bare w me. so fast food right. the old place i used to work at usually had two ppl every shift w the lil drive thru headsets on and there was this guy that whenever i worked w him he would use the walkie talkie feature to tell me jokes nd flirt w me over the headset!!!! nd only me nd him could hear what he was saying teehee >.<

ANYWAYS it’s always given me succchhhh denki energy omg pls tell me im not crazy!! ^^;

THANKK YOUUU!!! since 2k is CRAZYY IM GIGGLING i love this concept like little summer job, trying to do whatever to entertain yourselves during the slow hours... YEAH THANK SM (tell me if u got with him plsss this is such a love story)

food service!denki // job fair

event m.list

"hellooo," you sing into the headset after adjusting it to your head, "who's on the other line today? over."

"i don't knowww. over," a familiar voice sings back, "give me your best guess. over."

you couldn't resist rolling your eyes despite no one being around to see it

"you only need to say 'over' when you're done talking, denki. you're always fuck the system up."

you hear a groan come from the other end of the line, only bringing a chuckle out of you.

"fuck off, i'm hungover."

the line goes quiet for a beat.

"hello?"

"one more time?" you snort, "can you say that one more time? over."

"huh? i said i'm so hung-OH!"

he falls into a fit of laughter for a minute, unable to catch his breath as he falls into snorts and wheezes. his laugh was contagious. while you’re chuckling to yourself, in the corner of your eye, you see sero wiggling his eyebrows at you, in which you retaliate with your middle finger.

“fuck off,” you mouth.

"shut up," he says in between coughs, "you know what i meant. over," he emphasizes.

“not sure if i did, denks, i was almost scared i’d have to go to HR for a sec.”

“stooop,” he whines. “i almost called out today, but i didn’t. imagine being me, hungover as shit and still having to come in at- oh shit wait someone's coming.”

after a few car passes through, you get a second to breathe.

"aye was that guy in the red car a bitch to you too or what?"

"no?" you watch the red car in question turn out of the drive way with a wave, "he was nice."

"you and that god damn pretty privilege," denki grumbles, earning another eye roll from you.

it was the start of the lunch rush. besides some moments of annoyed groans and mumbles, you’ve barely been able to get another word in with each other until it was the end of denki’s shift a couple hours later.

“i’m off right now, babe,” he says, followed by a deep sigh crackling through your ear piece, “kiri’s taking over for me, so go ahead and utilize that mute button, alright?”

you laugh, “oh thank god, i haven’t talked to bestie in a minute.”

denki blows a raspberry into the mic- his official sign off. you roll your eyes and lean back against the counter, half tempted to pull out your phone and check your work schedule to see the next time you work with him.

you grabbed the next order to send out, double checking its contents before the car pulls up to your window.

your customer service smile slapped back onto your face like muscle memory as the window slides open.

“hi-,” you begin before being cut off by the teenage girl and her giggling friend in the passenger seat.

“the guy at the first window wanted me to give this to you,” she beams, holding out a folded up receipt paper out towards you.

you traded your items- her bag of food for your note. the look of confusion was plastered to your face during the entire interaction, but her smile never left as they drove off giggling.

you peered out the window and waited until the car is out of view before leaning back against the counter and unfolding the thin receipt. 

have a good shift smelly see you tomorrow night :P

[ashloremystic]

Poll Results are in!

Read the Fine Print

Date with a Werewolf

Part 1 here

It had been weeks since you downloaded that stupid DRD and your excitement had all but dies out. You had just gotten home from work and was pouring yourself a nice heafty glass of wine when your phone pinged not once but twice.

You put the bottle down and grabbed for your phone, expecting it to be nothing of importance. Unlocking your phone you froze.

You have 2 notifications!

Both are from DRD and the other from Sensational Simulations. Quickly you opened them.

Dear y/n

Your request had been accepted. Emrys has provided his availability, and Sensational Simulations will be contacting you shortly with a schedule. Once you select your preferred meeting date, a contract will be emailed to you. Please read carefully and sign.

We sincerely hope that your match goes well and you consider using our services again soon.

Enjoy!

DRD Associate

The next email as stated, was a calendar with dates and the earliest possible one was tonight at 10pm.. the next being a week away! That just wouldn't do.

Excitement filled your gut as you looked at the time. Sensational was about 45 minutes away. It was only 8:13…”I can make this work if I get ready now.”

So you clicked on today's date. Another ping sounded and you groaned. “shit I forgot about the contract.” You opened the email and it was FIFTEEN PAGES! There was no way you would get through all of them and manage to look decent in time.

So you did what any desperate women going to meet some strange monster would do…Skimmed thru it and signed. You even added a few hearts after one to give off the illusion you read them. Surely you can look back through them later. Right?

_____

You pulled up to the front for Sensational Simulations around 9:48 pm after checking that they had Valet parking. How you managed not to get a ticket was beyond you but Hey! At least you looked good.

The place was just as beautiful as you remembered before. The entrance and a huge modern open floor plan and busy with the buzz of other clients chatting amongst each other.

In the center of the room was a receptionist desk where a blonde woman with cherry red lipstick waved you over. You smiled nervously at her and made your way over.

“Welcome to Sensational Simulations y/n! I am Olivia and I will be your host today.” Her voice was very trained almost computer like.”

“Hi.” you replied, feeling the nerves in your gut turn to butterflies.

“So we've received your contracts, and everything is already settled. All there is to do now is take you to your location.”

“Sounds good. Any kind of payments on my part?"

She shook her head. "All taken care of." She looked down at the stuff you held. I'll take your phone and things to lock away in a safe during your stay."

“wait why can't I have my phone?”

“It can interfere with the Simulations sometimes. So to be safe we lock them away. But no need to worry. Each host is readily available in case there are any emergencies.”

“Are there usually any?”

“Very rarely. Follow me.”

You were escorted by Olivia to the main elevators. “Each floor is its own world. Some have multiple patrons in them or are rented out for certain blocks of time. Your's however has been rented for 24 hours. So there is no rush or anyone to…ruin the mood."

“24 hours is a long time for a date isn't it?” You asked as you thought about having to work tomorrow. You also couldn't wait to fill your coworker in.

Oliva smiled at you. “Some people book slots for extended days at a time. It’s part of the experience..No distractions from the outside world to break the illusion that the app puts in place. Its why its becoming so popular now. We will have to open a second location soon.”

“I had no clue. Thats amazing!.” You said as the elevator stopped finally.”

A breeze softly drifted through the closed doors before you. Smelling slightly earthy.

“This room is one of our newest and most realistic. The reviews have been great so far.” She swept a key card.

The doors opened and your mouth hit the floor. It was like stepping into a whole new world. You were in the middle of a forest. The sounds of insects and the wind through the trees made it feel so life-like. Even the dirt on the ground looked real.

“Wow!.”

“Nice isn't it?”

“yes! How amazing.”

“Well this is where we part ways.”

“okay thank you.”

“Enjoy.” She said as she scanned her key card on the door. “Ill be around if you need me.”

Once inside the door and the wall behind you faded leaving only miles of forest. You went to press your hand on the wall to reassure you that this was just a room but there was nothing but air there instead. How?

“That's not alarming at all.” You mumbled as you turned and started to follow the trail deeper into the trees. Even though it was dark out. The full moon above lit the path well enough for you to follow.

This was a date right? So maybe there was a cabin nearby. Maybe a picnic or something like that. You always wanted to have a cabin getaway in the fall. This could be it.

The Trail was thinning. You were not wearing the right shoes for a deep woods hike….Did the contract possibly say something about wearing comfortable shoes? Maybe it had information on what kind of “monster” You were meeting too. Probably shouldn’t have rushed through it.

Just as you reached the end of the trail, a howl sounded in the distance answering your inner thoughts. Your monster was infact…A Werewolf.

But shouldn't he be ….you know…In human shaped? How were the two of you going to talk or share dinner?

Rustling came from a nearby brush behind you. Hoping that the howl you heard was just part of the simulation, you turned around to inspected the sound. What you saw instead startled a scream of terror out of you.

Rising from the bushes was a giant creature caught between the shape of a man and part wolf. Like a B rated movie shift gone wrong..Without a second thought you turned and ran….Bad Idea!

The thing behind you howled its hunting song and gave chase.

Surly there had to be an emergency button somewhere right? you wondered as you tripped and stumbled on raised roots and rock. Your shoes making it harder for you to gain ground. Dirt now stained your dress and you were pretty sure your ankle was sprained.

“Olivia!” You screamed hoping she would put a stop to this chase. But you were answered with silence.

Something furry and twice your size landed on you, You screamed as the two of you crashed into the soil below, halting your escape. You struggled to get free as a mouth closed around your thigh and pulled you to it. Its teeth leaving marks on your skin.

Your underwear was then torn away and you're eyes went wide as a new panic settled in. Just what the hell was he going to do to you? You surely didn’t sign up for this! Not with this….Thing!

“No! Wait…Help…Someone! I didn't agree to this!!”

The monster behind you halted as a tune sounded. “Your contract has no limits. No violations have occurred or been detected.” Olivia's too cheery voice sounded. “You may proceed” Very fucking helpful Olivia!!!

Understanding that, the wolf still holding you down, lowered his head behind you and ran a very big and textured tongue through your folds. You gasped in shock at the friction against your sensitive flesh. It's width ensuring nothing went untouched. Every single hole.

You moaned again as it came back to lick again and again until you were a whimpering mess trying not to submit. Each time, your willpower and fight lessened and left you soaking wet. Especially when he started to fuck your tight hole with it. That was a new experience in itself.

It was like nothing you've ever felt before and even though his tongue didn't go deep, it still had you rocking your hips now begging for release instead of escape.

Sensing your approaching orgasm. The wolf pulled his tongue out and went back to focusing on your clit. Lapping away still holding you as you thrashed and jerked against the overwhelming sensation till you couldn't take it anymore.

You screamed as you came. The sound echoing through the forest as Emrys kept at the bulb a little longer. Enjoying the sounds you made for him as you struggled to evade it. You couldnt. You were at his mercy and he was going to prove it.

His tongue slowed and did one last long lick as he crawled up the length of your body. His partly shifted hands pulled your hips up and before you know it….You were being pressed into. His huge cock stretching you and going deeper than any regular man had ever managed.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he pounded into you with no restraint from behind. Moaning as he massaged the walls deep inside you. His breath thick and hot on the back of your neck as sweat…or his saliva, dripped on to it. You were so lost in your pleasure you didn't care.

You were just trying to find your own rhythm. Wiggling your hips slightly, you pushed back. Squeezing as you did so earning yourself a deep throaty moan that sounded more man than wolf grunts now.

He thrusts started to change after a moment and before you knew it you were rolled on to your back legs amost pressed into your shoulders as he tried to bury himself deeper inside you…Then you felt a different pressure…What was that…It felt thicker...harder.

Emrys jerked his hips and howled as you cried out at the sudden pain from something slipping inside of you. Locking your bodies together and sending you into an instant orgasm that brought the stars in the sky above much closer. He thrusted a few more times limited by what felt like a knot till he himself came as well.

“Fuck” He growled now mostly human. His gray eyes hooded from being drunk on pleasure. “That was amazing.”

“Chasing a helpless woman in the woods and taking advantage of her?” You asked teasingly. You were far from mad now…you didn't even think you were afraid either come to think of it. You had never been fucked so good before.

“It was part of my package. You should have read that in your contract.” His deep voice said as he leaned down and kissed your neck softly. “I've always wanted to fuck a prey as the wolf….maybe next I will shift all the way.”

“Next?”

“Yes my prey…You're now mine until our time is up, and I plan to use that to my full advantage."

Your gut tightened with anticipation and slight fear. "But I need to work in the morning. So I should probably go soon."

"Olivia read term 34 page 7"

A tune chimed in.

"Attendee must stay for the full duration of the event or until they are released from said obligation. Each event duration will be in 24 hour incerment. That of which the Attendee is at the full disposal of the contract holder."

Your mouth fell open.

"And did y/n agree to this term." Emrys asked

"Yes."

"Thanks Olivia."

"My pleasure."

Grey eyes looked into yours..."You know.."He thrusted slightly his body still attached to yours. "You really should read what you sign."

No Shit..

Which explains how you ended up spending the next 24 hours as a werewolf's test sex toy...

Thanks for Voting!! Hope you all like it.

Next up Dragon

[finsplurtz]

addicted — izuku.midoriya

— dom ! male.reader x sub ! Izuku Midoriya

— contents : dom!bottom ! izuku maybe.. non-con/rape , blowjobs as friends , some public play , you’re both virgins , use of his quirk , bondage

warnings : rape/non-con

- second part: soo meann

✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮

Deku never thought about sex, he found it like ehhh

he was always focused on improving his quirk and stuff he never really thought about it, he didn’t masterbate often either cause he never had time and it never really interested him

you were a close friend of his, it was always you ochaco lida and izuku. He always praised you and admired you as a friend, always found you to be his safe place.

so when he accidentally walked in on you jacking ur shit he freaked out. He was thinking about how he ruined yalls friendship and stuff

you didn’t continue obviously…though you were close to ejaculating you just couldn’t continue, you told him to come in and he awkwardly walked in with his face red.

“I’m so sorry yn..! I didn’t mean to— I should’ve knocked I’m so sosososososososo sorry!!” he was a cute babbling mess, you laughed nervously and told him not to worry about it and that accidents happen.

“don’t worry izuku! I know you didn’t mean to ya know…it’s fine we’re guys this is like- normal so no need to be awkward” you smile at him and he nods his head before apologizing once more.

“…..doesn’t it hurt..?” he shyly pointed at your crotch and you let out a nervous chuckle.

“well……..don’t worry I’ll just take care of it later” you scratched the back of your neck while izuku just nodded and looked around anxiously.

“…I’m sorry I can’t help but think that you didn’t get to.. you know…! I w..wanna help in some way..? i just feel bad yn” he whined and blushed looking off to the side.

you just stared at his adorable face feeling your dick twitch in your pants.

“well I guess if you..want to, you can…..” he tensed up and stiffly walked over to your bed and sat down in front of you.

he looked you in the eyes waiting for you to give him orders. you looked off to the side for a second and back. “…do you know how to..”

“N-no..I don’t” he blushed embarrassed.

“I’d hope not.. just uhm how do you touch yourself? it’s like that but on another person” izuku was thinking about blowing you really but…….. makes sense

“I don’t touch myself” he said. you held In a laugh but grabbed his hand and placed it on your thigh.

“….im just helping a friend it’s fine..” he mumbled to himself.

“izuk.. u don’t have to yk I can kinda just do it by myself” he insisted and took you out of your pants making you gasp.

He’s never done this before, he loves helping people that’s why he was doing this…..and cause he was curious, it’d been a while since he touched himself and just wanted to.. explore

he stuck his tongue out and put you in his mouth, you let out a deep breath and stiffened feeling his hot mouth work on your dick.

this all happened too fast- I mean anybody with common sense would NEVER offer to blow their friend just cause they accidental interrupted them………that’s gay

but izuku’s just…overly kind or something, you’ll just let him do whatever he wants. Only a crazy person would turn a blowjob down anyway

you started to let out small moans and gently grab on izuku’s soft green locks. He started to really get into it….taking you down his throat and swallowing around you.

“fuuuck..~ I’m gonna…fucking c..NGH—!” you’re eyes rolled back feeling the cum rip out of your cock and into midoriya’s mouth, your chest raised and lowered rapidly trying to catch your breath.

“haa….shh..it..” you combed your finger thru your friends hair as he slowly got off and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

you just stared at him and smiled.

“th..thank you i-zuku..” you felt dizzy and he just smiled happily.

“a..anytime yn..” he said his goodbyes and left you alone in your room staring into the void. what. just happened.

izuku started to spend more time alone in his room after that, you guys weren’t thattt awkward but there was a little tension between you guys. it didn’t happen just once though, he had walked in on you accidentally again and apologized like it was the first time. then he’d offer to help.

it started to become a regular thing you guys did, nothing more than a blowjob. you would offer to please him in return but he always turned it down so…

he liked how he made you feel. it made him feel funny but he couldn’t bring himself to stop it was like an addiction. it started to happen OUTSIDE of your room…..

he went to use the bathroom and you were coincidentally there and next thing ya know, he blew you in one of the stalls. it scared you because you didn’t want to get caught.. but you didn’t say anything.

he had become more touchy, always touching you in some way, your hand, arm, thigh, legs just- he had to be touching you.

he was becoming like a…sex demon, he couldn’t stop wanting to touch you. addict to dick….

one night he was in your room again you stopped him.

“sorry- izuku I just… this is weird why are we…” you watched as his face saddened a bit…..he looks so cute:(

“am I not good at it…?”

“nono izuku! You’re great at it— it’s just like what if we get caught…?”

“oh…then we’ll just have to be more quiet! we won’t get caught that way..” he crawled closer to you and placed his palm on your crotch.

“I-i know but- ugh..~” you couldn’t say anything else as you got lost in the pleasure.

this time while he was blowing you he made eye contact with you, he looked at you with his big glossy green eyes. He’d moan around your length sending vibrations that drove you crazy. what you hadn’t noticed was how he’d finger himself while blowing you, he was stretching himself….for what

when you did notice it though, it didn’t leave your mind. Surely he won’t want to fuck right..? no that can’t happen. you have to make sure of it. you can blow him and everything but- you can’t lose your virginity to this kid and he can’t lose his to you.

“Hey midoriya, ya know this is as far as we can go…right?” you looked at him and you could see the disappointment in his eyes. he hesitated to answer.

“We can’t do anymore than a handy or a blowjob. so don’t…get any funny ideas”

.

.

.

“mh” he smiled and said his goodbye and left. after that he visited…less. like the addiction just left, just like that. He didn’t offer anything but he was still touchy with you. this was fine, you could tell he was looking for something else, it was good to break things off.

after a couple weeks of no nightly visits, he suddenly knocks on ur door. you let him come in and he starts talking about whatever. how his day was, how his training was going, all that normal stuff.

“izuku do you want something from me” you interrupted him mid sentence. he tilts his head pretending to be confused, he tries to say something but he can’t.

“what is it. do you want me to touch you or what” he blushes and bites the inside of his cheek. “i just…can..i…..” he felt the embarrassment down his spine, he pointed at your crotch and then his mouth.

you sigh and grab his arm dragging him to your bed. You stand in front of him while he’s on his knees on the bed looking up at you like a lost puppy. you pet his head and pull your half hard dick out.

He’s practically drooling as he wraps his hands around your cock and pumps it slowly while giving it kitten licks.

He quickly stuffs you in his mouth earning slutty moans from you, he does this till you start getting closer and closer to releasing. you had your eyes closed so you failed to see his quirk blackwhip slowly creep out of him.

he didn’t take his eyes off you, he just stared while he blew you. you felt your body quickly getting bounded tightly together, you opened your eyes and izuku got off.

“wha…what are you doing izu..”

“‘m sorry yn..! I really really n-need this…~” he slipped his shorts off and straddled your lap, your dick at his entrance. you tried to fight against the restraints but obviously, didn’t work. he was blushing like crazy and shaking as he slowly lowered himself on your cock.

“s-stop—! stop it izu..aghn..~!” The wave of pleasure punched you in the face.

he was squatting on you like a rabbit, his hands on your abdomen and his back arched.

“haa..why’re you s..so tight..” your vision was blurry and you had already stopped trying to escape, it was no use. you’ve never been inside someone, you knew it would feel great but this…felt so much fucking better than you thought.

“d-don’t worry yn..I’ll milk your cock and it’ll feel great…~” he smiled pathetically as he lifted himself up and slammed himself back down, your cock hitting his prostate. He gasped loudly and arched his back oh so beautiful, tightening even more around you.

“Sh..shit izu..! you’re soo..hmnn~” you whined feeling your dick throb in him. he began at a fast and rough pace, bouncing on your dick.

“ugh- mm..~ so big yn…~! you feel so g-good..~” he’s moaning loudly while you just watch him fuck himself on your cock. you’re panting and feel as if you’re about to pass out and he still looks as cute as ever forcefully taking your virginity. you flush red and let out a small whimper.

“W-we’re still..close f..friends, right yn-y..” he leans down so he’s closer to your face.

“mm..” you’re too confused and lost in pleasure to respond properly. izuku smiles and gives you a small peck on the lips before sitting back up.

“I hope I can use your cock whenever I please yn..~” he roughly sat all the way down on your dick, his eyes rolled back and his tongue lolled out. a slutty moan ripped from his throat, your dick was deep in his gushy insides.

he tightened around you and you whined once more finally cumming deep inside him.

“haa..uhn~” your body was tired, you just kept watching him. What was he gonna do next. He slowly lifted himself and you watched your own nut drip out of him.

“hm…th..thank you yn..” he looked you in the eyes with such seductive eyes before he went limp and fell beside you on your bed, his quirk disappearing.

you shakily got up and went to clean yourself up, you cleaned your friend up as well and got back in bed.

you finally looked at izuku’s sleeping face and let out a small sigh.

though you wish he would’ve asked for consent, you’re kinda glad that virginity shit was over with. you’re confused is all.

you gently wrapped your arms around the smaller boy and pull him closer for warmth.

that morning you woke up with midoriya on your chest, his face hiding in the crook of your neck.

“izuk— ugh~!” you gasp realizing you were inside him again.

“let’s stay…like this..” he said tiredly kissing your neck before probably passing out… he was like addicted to this.

why can’t you say no to him.

a/n; what are y’all’s thoughts on izuku w/ the low taper fade

[impala-dreamer]

Where's The Trust?

A Supernatural Story

~Dean likes what he likes and you're not gonna convince him otherwise. OK, well, maybe you can.~

Dean Winchester x Reader

532 Words

Warnings: Ridiculously unnecessary fluff.

A/N: A random thought as I prepped tomorrow's coffee...

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

Y/N thanked the blue-haired college student with the green branded visor and handed one of the clear takeaway cups to her passenger. She adjusted the other cup in her left hand as she turned the big leather wheel and pulled away from the drive-thru window.

Dean, who was already on edge since agreeing to let Y/N drive the last hundred miles of the trek back home, glared down at the drink she’d ordered for him. Through the clear cup, he could see a dark liquid quickly being lightened by swirls of white as the thick layer of creamy foam on top settled down. He cocked a brow and scowled.

“The hell is this?”

Y/N eyed him quickly before making a slightly illegal left turn. “Coffee.”

Dean sniffed the cup. “This is not coffee.”

She let the wheel return to center and took a sip of her drink. She hummed happily. “It is,” she told him. “Just try it.”

Dean shook his head. “It's cold.”

“Great work, detective.”

“I don't like iced coffee.”

“It's not iced coffee. Try it.”

He watched her take another sip and lick the foam from her upper lip. A suggestive idea crossed his mind, but there was a more pressing situation at hand.

“If it's not iced, what the hell?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Oh my god, Dean. It's cold brew. It's good. Just try it.”

He leered at the drink. “What's all the shit on top?”

A deep breath did little to relax her growing annoyance. They had been on the road for two days already, after coming off a two week case binge. She was tired. He was testing her last nerve.

“It's a vanilla, sweet cream cold brew. It's coffee. It's delicious. Shut the fuck up and taste it.”

Dean tried not to chuckle. She was feisty when she was tired. He liked it. 

“I'm not gonna like it,” he promised.

“What are you, a toddler?” Y/N changed lanes and prepared to merge onto the highway.

He grinned. 

She sighed. “Try it.” 

“No.”

“Where’s the trust, Dean? Huh?”

He gasped dramatically. “Trust? I’m letting you drive my Baby!” He caressed the dashboard protectively. “By the way, you’re a little hard on the brakes-”

Y/N growled. 

“Fine!” He sucked in a deep breath and held the cup to his lips. “I’m not gonna like it, I’m telling you. I like my coffee strong. Black. No frilly crap.” 

Her upper lip twitched, and Dean shrugged, going in. 

He took a tentative sip and closed his eyes as his tongue was washed in the most delectable brew he’d had in a long time. It was delicious. It was perfect, actually. It was- 

“So?” Y/N leaned over a bit while keeping her eyes on the road. “Whatcha think?” 

Dean faked a cringe. “It’s gross. I told you I’d hate it.”

“Liar. You love it.” 

“No.” He scoffed and shifted closer to his door, trying to hide as he took another sip. 

“They have a caramel one too…” 

His eyes lit up. “Ooo…” 

She laughed. “Such a toddler.” 

Dean licked some escaped foam from his lip and winked. “Yeah… but I’m adorable.” 

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[kaivenom]

👋 Hello-Hi. I just say your Doflamingo x reader fanfic and I was wondering if you could do one where Doffy has like a really quiet, hot( always gets flirted with at meetings), calm and stoic right hand and she is like REALLY STRONG and muscular, Doff secretly finds it hot. You can the it from there❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Doflamingo's (not so) unexpected crush

Summary: A series of small scenarios were Doflamingo clearly shows his crush to reader but she doesnt get it. At the end, somehow she managed to notice it.

Pairing: Donquixote Doflamingo x reader

Warning: just a little moment of violence but not even described explicit.

Masterlist

First day of work

You were excited to be a part of the Donquixote's pirates but now that your captain is also the king, you have a new job, a guard on the castle and you couldn't be more excited.

You can finally prove your value and worth to the crew, so you need to stay calm and stoic. You especially chosed an outfit that showed your muscles.

You were on the door making your shift and suddently he appeared, your fellow captain. He never noticed you on the ship, cause you were under the orders of one of his comrades.

He walked like he owned the place, literally, and with his view on the horizont... until he got to your spot. He walked two more steps and then came back, to look directly at you. The height difference made it difficult cause you have to look to the front and that coincided with his crotch.

You thought he would laugh or dismiss you from your job but he just stayed there looking at you thru his glasses.

"I want her on my personal guard, "he said to one of his comrades, "i want you to follow all my steps, come."

A calm moment

"Come on, you never talk about yourself, tell me something." he said while laying on the couch, "you aren't funny."

"My job is not being funny, is being your right hand."

"And when i promoted you i thought we could get along, know each other, share things..."

"I am not your friend, i am your counselor." he simulated that his heart was stabberd and pouted at you.

"That hurts, if it wasnt that i like you i would make you killed." he made a dramatic pause and suddently throwed a gym lift at you but you catched it, "i fucking love when you do that."

Guarding the meeting

You were on the front row of the salon, looking everywhere while keeping your cool, if someone does something weird then it's your time to act and beat the shit out of them.

The conversations on the table were boring but you know that this were the type of meetings that made Doflamingo burst in rage, but he was keeping an smile and answering calmy until...

"And that one being behind you? I heard that you had a right hand that was powerfull but i didn't thought that it would..."

And he couldn't finish the phrase cause his tongue and hands were cut by some of Doflamingo's invisible strings. The room became really cold and everyone seemed like they were to faint.

"I won't tolerate shame on my meeting, my right hand doesn't have anything to do with you filthy inferior beings and nobody can talk to them... less like that. The meeting is with me and i am the only one you should be scared off."

Training

The punching bag was hanging low and moving swingly with every punch you give, sweat running thru all your body and your training outfit.

Then you heard a clap from the shadows of the room and then the figure of your boss on the appearing on your side, how long has he been there?

"You are on a very good shape, you know that?"

"Thanks, i work for it, i need to be prepared to help you when it's needed."

"You already help me, plus you are a good view to have close and another plus, you could help me with other stuff."

"If you mean that paperwork that has been hanging on your table for the whole week... yes, i will do it."

You collected your things and went to his office, leaving him behind with what you believed it was a frustated sigh.

The reveal

You had to give him some informs so you went to his office and he wasnt there, he said that they were really urgent so you decided to go to his room... and he wasn't there either. You put the papers on the table and then you saw something weird.

Next to a closet there was a picture of yourself that you didn't remember taking. Then you decided to open the closet with a trembling hand and reveal a lot of photos of yourself surrounded by hearts.

You've been half an hour looking at this creepy fan stalker mural with fire emojis, heart shapes and arrow drawings. You know you have to get out but you are processing this.

"What are you doing?" Doflamingo's voice came from behind you.

"I.. i just... you..." your body could only point to the closet and he looked angry.

"You weren't supposed to see that, that's why it was on a closet...i wouldn't do this if you weren't such a stoic bitch that didn't pay attention to me." he was clearly angry but mostly flustered about you discovering his secret.

You got up and kicked him on the knees for insulting you, then he had to bend cause of the pain and you could reach his face to kiss his lips. A surprised gasp escaped his lips while you separate from him, leaving him blushing. You playfully slapped him on the cheek and kissed it.

"And i thought i was the one with bad comunication... do sign the papers and then come to my room."

He stood there impressed, blushed, embarrased, horny... to many emotions at the same time. He just knows that he would be doing the paperwork really fast.

[linguisticsho]

Anti capitalist + anti consumerist + anti work master list

*originally started writing this as a reference for myself. may add more later

No buying/no spending options

Libby (books, audiobooks, magazines). you can use multiple library cards. harris county and queens allows you to sign up for a card with just your number.

Hoopla (music)

Kanopy (movies, tv, docs)

Anna's Archive (books, academic papers)

Tubi (movies, TV, docs)

Your local libraries

Bartering. they got facebook groups for this. if you still use that.

Low buy/low spending options

Bookbub

Dollar stores

Thrift stores

Only buy when you need/run out of it. you don't really need another damn notebook (note to self)

lowkey thinking about buying that $25 tablet from five below

Going analog

Book Outlet

Thrift Books

Thrift stores

Blank cd's and an external drive

Food

Learn. To. Cook. get a rice cooker from family dollar. some rice, sausage, chicken, ramen, eggs, frozen mixed veggies,et c etc. get some spices. you can just throw this in for 15-20 min and have a meal. do some experimenting while you at it. start looking at those big back recipes from tik tok while it's still around.

eat less shit. less fast food. less processed snacks.

TooGoodtoGo. pay about $5 to get some surprise bags from different restaurants.

Companies to boycott (if you are able to)

Amazon. you know why.

Walmart. gets tax subsidies for employees on welfare. they aint never giving them a payraise, despite their profits. anti dei

McDonald’s.

Trader Joe's. anti union.

Companies to support instead

Local.

Black owned/BIPOC. buy essentials.

...or make your own shit. read some books, watch some videos to teach you to make skin care, set up raspberry pi, whatever you wanna learn

Making money (for anticapitalist, antiwork, anticonsumerist, autistic, young, wild, free)

Writing on Medium. something i've been doing a little of.

Micro investing. invest $5 here and there to make a little money.

All in on specific niches. see where it takes you.

Qapital. an app where you can save money without having to think about it. this has helped me in a pinch.

Prolific. good way to make a little money. pays thru paypal tho.

anything you're capable of doing

Skills that could actually matter

Herbalism. make natural remedies for chronic issues.

Gardening. grow your own food and kush. (if possible)

Reading. a skill often taken for granted. read all that you can. do annotations. actually do media literacy and ask yourself why you like or don't like a movie, TV show, anime etc etc.

Archiving. with the tik tok ban coming, i've been made more aware of the importance of saving shit. download things. write info you learn down in a notebook or notion.

Self defense. hand to hand combat or a glock. even if you start with practicing with a toy gun.

Sailing the seas

just look up 'pirating' on here

[honestlywynter]

Stop Obsessing Over The Void And Subliminals (kinda rude rant)

as a person who started interest in the loa in late 2020 discovering subliminals. LOA is simple, idk why it took me 4 years to understand. manifesting is easy.

if you have struggles with manifesting. don't panic imma help you from being like me 😜.

1. Realize you are in control

Stop STOP and i mean fucking STOP. Giving the void and subliminals so much fucking power and bitching about it " OH MY GOSH i didnt enter the void wtf am i gonna doooo 😪 " or " THE SUBLIMINAL SAID 5 Seconds and it would work where is my SP? "

like gorl u sound desperate as fuckkkkk lol

but heres how we change this. first the problem is YOU. why the fuck you depending on some tool? thats like me depending on my feet to make my decisions and getting mad when my feet dont say shit back to me. LOL

but no you just need to strengthen your self concept. you can do this BYYYYY

- repeating affirmations during the day

- changing your thoughts

- Rampages

- &&&& Drumroll pleaaaaseeeee .... 🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

Sleep affirmations. they slip into your consciousness at night :)....At the end i will link my FAVORITE VIDEOS, for the self concept.

2. MANIFEST

oh shit you thought this was gon be long huh? no bookie its just two things. better your self concept and start manifesting. NOW i am gonna some tips.

stop giving the 3d power when you make the 3d...

EXAMPLE:

you start your day saying " oh i have my ideal body im soooo freaking happy i finally did it, like i been x pounds for everrr and i love my body "

and then the second you look in the mirror you like " damn bruh i wish i had my ideal body "

cause like why tf did you just ruin your fucking manifestation, why did you fucking react????

When you look in that mirror this is what they mean by " old story ".

Instead, look in the mirror and close your eyes and imagine your ideal body, or just deny it. " who the fuck is that in the mirror, gorll ik thats not me cause i got my ideal body ive had it since 1823 "

ALSO

dont let your thoughts rule u, u rule them. if you are in public and think " omg they looking at me cause think im big" NO dont do that...

instead say

" Girl they looking at me bc i got my ideal body, and i been had it since a baby in da tummy ahh"

exactly change that mindset. thats it. all you have to do is catch yourself, improve your thoughts and your self concept will be thru the mf roof. So den you can manifest in a snap of a fingerrr. period thats the magic 🪄 sauce bookie. also dont say will say have cause you already have it bookie bear ;)

im open for questions and i am open to telling what ive manifested WITHOUT some dumb ass void or subliminal lol.

heres the video; BTW LOOK AT HER PAGE SHE HAS MUCH MORE.

[celestialprincesse]

I love poly 141 x (fem/afab)reader way too much, so what if reader finds out that she’s pregnant? Like me personally I love it when I’m reading a silly lil fic and the fmc hides her pregnancy until it’s a bit noticeable but like obvi they’d have really good trust in each other, reader would tell them after she misses her period and she’s taken a test etc etc :D

Too many thoughts on this so sorry if it doesn’t make sense LOL

-R

YES YES YES YES I especially love when her partner sort of notices something is up, but doesn't push until she's ready to tell, even though he probably found the test in the bin or something🤭🤚

The main problem with keeping secrets in your relationship? John. Captain John Price.

He's always been hyper vigilant towards your needs - towards every minute aspect of your life. He knows how stressful it can be to not only share your home with four people, but four stressed, grumpy, massive military men with a penchant for eating you out of house and home? In his eyes you're a saint for putting up with all of them.

Because of this, he tries to streamline your day to day life as much as possible. The fridge stays stocked, as does the bathroom cabinet, always supplied with nice shampoos and conditioners, your favourite body lotion, and practically the entire sanitary product aisle of your local store.

The first red flag is the fact that the window during which you usually have your period has been and gone, and none of the new boxes of tampons he restocked have been opened.

He doesn't think much of it though, rationalising that maybe it's just late, or that you'd had some leftover from last month that you'd used up. Later on though, when Kyle comes home to you bent double over the kitchen sink, hurling up your guts, concerns raise substantially. He'd only been coming in to grab the charger for his laptop when he'd heard the ruckus, and promptly called for a day off to look after you.

You soon realise what's up, and promptly shit yourself when you realise that you're carrying a baby with four potential dads. Like Mamma Mia but so much worse - and with far less wonderful Greek architecture and bright sunshine.

The boys all manage to work it out before you do, especially when you cry until Simon takes you to your local drive-thru for burger pickles and a milkshake. Just burger pickles and a milkshake. They're all surprisingly calm about the fact that you're pregnant, albeit slightly concerned that they should maybe nudge you in the right direction, seeing as you try to go about day-to-day life when you can't even smell cheese without barfing.

When you do eventually stalk into the living room with a pregnancy test in hand, and a sheepish look on your face, they try their hardest not to act surprised, even though they've already been going through paint samples for the nursery, wondering which one you'll like best - and they hope, for your sake, that it's a girl. God forbid there's any more testosterone in your house.

[esstrellaa123]

Js realized I can write whatever the fuck I want. I’m on my phone so don’t mind typos :> anyway. You’re deranged and you’re dating Simon. He’s retired.

“You have a knife.” Simon states, looking at you with a tilted head.

“I do.” You confirm, coming closer.

“Why?” He asks, easily taking it from you. You never really fought him.

“Dunno.” You answer, letting him pick you up. “Kiss?” You ask.

“Yeah.” He says breathily, placing soft kisses on your lips. However many you wanted.

~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—

“No. No. Stop.” He chastises, noticing that look in your eyes.

“Please go away. My girlfriend is crazy.” He practically pleads with the girl trying to chat him up.

“No, no. She can talk to you allllll she wants. If you want her, just say that.” You grumble, gripping the pick that previously held your olive too tight.

“Don’t be like that. Cmon. You’ve had too much to drink.”

“I’ve barely had anything. Put me down!” You grumble, kicking your feet as you’re thrown over his shoulder.

It doesn’t stop him. It never does. But it also doesn’t stop the scary precision you have with throwing things as the olive pick finds itself wizzing just past that women’s eye as you smile.

~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—

“Do you love me?” You ask Simon over call.

“Live for you dove.” He answers, pulling up to McDonald’s.

“I’m not in the mood for McDonald’s.” You answer.

He doesn’t question how you know he’s at McDonald’s, just pulls out of the drive-thru. “What do you want then?” He asks.

~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—

“…. Uhm. Is she okay?” Gaz asks his first time meeting you.

“Perfectly content.” He says, not acknowledging you gnawing on his arm.

“…. Okay.” Gaz breathes out quietly. Let the weirdos be with the weirdos. He thinks to himself.

~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—

“She doesn’t have to know.” Another girl states, trying to chat him up.

“Not a matter of that. She will know, she will kill you and make me watch, she will then kiss me goodnight. Please leave.”

The girl is gone before you come back from the bathroom.

~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—

“I don’t like my face being licked.” He states blankly.

“Just love you.” You mutter with a pout.

“You have access. To my entire body. I just don’t want my face licked.” He says to you, now straddling his lap.

You rest your head in his neck, nodding solemnly. He thinks he might get some reprieve from your animalistic behavior, but he’s wrong. Because of course he is as you mark his neck.

~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—

You breathe heavily, two broken plates on the floor as you stare daggers at Simon.

“You’re off your medicine.” He states calmly, hands up as he walks towards you, a bag in hand. Not too quick, but not hesitant either.

“I’m not off shit. All I asked for-”

“Is your candies. I know. I have them.” He says, shaking the bag as proof.

“….” It’s only fair you cry as you clean up the glass, apologizing to him for being so… well- fucking crazy when he’s only ever nice.

“I know. I know.” He comforts. “Cmere.” He beckons with a candy.

You cling to him the rest of the night. Biting him to calm yourself.

~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—

“Are you sure she’s okay?” Gaz asks, his second time meeting you.

“Perfectly content.” Simon states once again, watching his strong girl beat the shit out of a punching bag because you ‘wanted to try it :>’

“…….. okay.” Gaz breathes out again, making a mental note to not get on your bad side.

~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—

“I like your girlfriend.” Soap says with a smile, having bonded with you over explosives.

“Me too.” Ghost says, watching you tinker with one of Soap’s projects.

“She’s.. uhm. Really educated. How.. how uh, did that come to be?” Soap finally asks as you make his project work, clapping to yourself.

“Calls it: ✨hyper fixation✨.” Simon answers honestly.

“And… she’s okay mentally?” Soap asks, suddenly feeling wary for his friend.

“No.” He answers, completely smitten.

~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—

“So… we’re all scared for him right?” Gaz says, having called a meeting with the rest of the 141.

“She’s pretty decent.” Price answers, not knowing what the problem is.

“She’s- where the hell do I even start?” Soap chimes in.

“Crazy. Probably practices witchcraft, has Simon- mind you- Simon, wrapped around her finger, is smart as shit, and is fluent in 4 languages.”

“So?” Price questions.

“Simon is in love with her.” Soap restates.

“So the man’s found love.”

“Simon, Cap. Simon, found the love of his life.”

……..

“Okay, maybe we should be a little cautious of the woman.”

“Fucking finally.” Soap and Gaz exhale in unison.

~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—_~ ~_—

“Simon!” You holler like you’re being butchered.

“What? What?!” He asks, at your side in a few seconds.

You only point.

……….

“Let’s not scream bloody murder when you find a bug in the house.” He says, having set it outside because your bleeding heart wouldn’t allow him to kill it.

“I was scared.” You say.

“I know.” He mutters, kissing you.

Okay bye :>

[asriel-2]

Unexpected Customer

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x female reader

Summary: You’re a barista at a coffee shop and was surprised with seeing a famous face (Jenna Ortega). Perhaps that famous face would be interested in more then a coffee.

Warning: Some curse words I guess?

Words counted: 680+

You were working in a coffee shop. You always work here on the weekdays. You needed to make extra money while you were still studying in college.

You’ve been working here for over a month and got along with your coworkers pretty well. It was a regular day in your work place. Your coworkers were in the back working on drinks, the drive thru, mopping and washing dishes while you worked as the cashier.

You were getting pretty bored and tired. It was about 11:00 oclock in the morning. You already did some orders already. Thank goodness there wasn’t that much people today..

You stretched a bit because you were standing up for a bit of time but then quickly stopped as you seen someone walk in.

“Welcome!,” you said and the woman reciprocated as she started walking towards you to place her order.

You cant help but notice this lady looked oddly familiar, but you tried to push those thoughts aside because you were already tired and wanted to get this over with, since you have 3 more hours until you can go home.

“So what can I get for you, today ma’am?” You spoke again, but as you analyzed her face you felt like you totally seen this lady somewhere and it was infuriating that you couldn’t remember where you saw her, so you spoke before she was about to place her order.

“Uhm wait before you order. Have I’ve seen you before? I just can’t shake off the feeling that I have..”

You two were the only people around besides the other customers that were sitting down at a table, enjoying their meal on their phone.

The lady looked awkward and shy and hesitated before speaking, “Well uhm I’m actually an actor so I’m pretty sure you’ve seen me on the internet sometimes.”

you couldn’t help but analyze her face one more time and that caused her to to look awkwardly around the coffee shop. Your eyes widen as you then realized who she was.

“Wait.. you’re Jenna Ortega!?” as those words came out your mouth she nodded a bit as she let out a small smile.

“Being an actor takes major skills that’s actually so impressive! I can’t believe I have a celebrity in my workplace.. Wait shit! I’m getting too distracted I’m so sorry. What would you like again?”

You got embarrassed. You needed to stay professional, all she wanted to do was have her order placed, not have a whole conversation with a stranger she never met before.

Jenna Ortega chuckled a bit at your reaction. “It’s totally fine!,” she said, reassuring you. She then placed an order for a cup of coffee and took her money out and paid for it. As soon as she did you had one of your other coworkers work on her drink.

Jenna decided to sit down at one of the available tables as she waited for her drink. As she was waiting she couldn’t help but take another glance at you.. “she’s actually kind of cute?,”Jenna thought to herself.

You could totally see that Jenna Ortega was taking a few glances at you. You definitely thought was that she was probably judging you from that weird interaction.

A few minutes later you called out her drink and she came forward to it. A silent “Thank you” escaped Jenna’s lips as both of your hands touched when you gave her, her cup of coffee. Which made Jenna smile and blush a bit but she hid it and decided to keep her cool and leave.

As you gave it to her, you noticed a little piece of paper slipped from her hands onto the counter. You tried to give it back to her but she had already left.

“It wouldn’t hurt to look at it since she already left.,” You murmur to yourself as you opened the little piece of paper.

As you opened it you saw some numbers and her name in it. And your eyes couldn’t help but widen. “There is absolutely no way in hell she gave me her phone number..,” you say as you analyze the paper.

“I guess she wasn’t really judging me.. I’m so glad I didn’t call in sick today,”

You can’t help but smile widely.