#like that text did not answer my question whatsoever.

[nature-played-a-trick-on-me]

Person from the therapy practice who i can message w questions is like. Least clear person ever. Like what do you mean.

[b0nten]

HOW ARE BABIES MADE?

[SYNOPSIS] ˚⁀➷｡ ran, rindou, sanzu, takeomi, kakucho, mikey and izana being asked by their children how babies are made.

[NOTES] ˚⁀➷｡ reader is implied to be fem, reader is called “mother”, “mommy” etc. this was so fun to write!!! thank you anon for requesting <3 also, i used tenjiku&bonten characters but everything’s taking place in the final timeline.

RAN is definitely the type to try to explain the entire thing, without any second thoughts whatsoever. He’d definitely hear the question, and open his mouth but before gets to say ‘sex’ he feels a book flat against his head. “what do you think you’re doing?” you whisper-yell from the kitchen, curry udon long forgotten on the stove. “explaining to your daughter how she spawned into the world?” he answers, dodging another decor item that you aimed toward him. upon asking, dramatically and over-exaggeratedly of course, so offended because he just doesn’t know what he was doing wrong, you just stare at him. “we agreed to tell her when she’s 14. she doesn’t even know boys have dicks and you want to explain the entirety of sex and how it goes to her? do you even know how it works?” he sighs, defeated, “let’s go eat, sweetheart, i think i made mommy a lil mad.” he says, picking up his daughter, “that last part was uncalled for, by the way.” “suck it up, mr. club owner. ”

meanwhile, RINDOU simply freezes: “daddy, how are babies made?” what? excuse him? oh my lord, he did not expect this to happen this early. why the hell is his five year old son asking him about coital activity, right when you’re not around? fuck him (himself), fuck this situation, fuck you for not being around right now (both figuratively and literally). “you see! when… uhm.. when two people love each other and they kiss, they make a baby!” he mentally face-palms for what the fuck he just said. “so you can’t kiss girls until you’re twenty-one, yeah?” finally, thankfully, his phone rings, and thank the heavens it’s you. “oh my god, y/n—” “rindou, what did i just hear on the baby cam?” “haha, my love! funny story!!!!”

SANZU just goes feral. he’s having a fucking anxiety attack or whatever so he just texts you while your daughter asks her daddy about how babies are made.

TAKEOMI plays it safe, using the infamous stork. “and it just comes flying?” “yeah, it carries a little basket with its beak and gives it to us!” he smiles, playing into his baby girl’s fantasy. “you sound just like my parents.” you smile and his gaze averts to yours, from his seat on the living room carpet. “well, your own stories inspired me, because, to be honest, i was about to shit myself.” “daddy!” the little one yells, stretching out her palm, “1000 yen!” and her father exasperates “god put me out of this misery of only being an atm, you’re just like your mother. ow! what’d i deserve that punch for?”

KAKUCHO handles it like a pro. “papa.” one of his little girls walks up to him, younger twin following her right behind. “yes, pretty girl?” he straightens his back and crouches down, still sitting on the couch. “how are babies made, papa?” the shyer one asks and his face drops for a split second. “i promise to tell you when you’re older, right now it’s classified information!” he jokes, and the girls giggle. “now… who wants to watch doraemon!!” he does the jazz hands and the twins jump into his lap. not long after, you sit down next to them. “if i didn’t know any better, i would have said you rehearsed those lines from the moment you were born.” you laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. he wraps an arm around you, chuckling, and kisses the crown of your head.

if there’s someone (who thinks they’re) escaping this question, it’s MIKEY. “ ‘tou-chan, how are babies made?” blond locks spin toward him, and the big eyes of his daughter look him up and down. “ ‘tou-chan?” she says again, a bit annoyed. mikey sacrifices the motorbike races he’s watching and looks back at her. “ask ‘kaa-chan, i’m not really good at biology.” he smiles when she jumps from her place and runs into your bedroom, where you’re blow-drying your hair. confident that he’s just dodged a bullet, manjiro returns to his priority — the tv. moments later you storm in, hair half wet, still in your bath robe with the kid in your arms, visibly furious. he knows he’s dodged a bullet but is about to get hit by a cannon.

IZANA is at the dining table doing some paper-work for tenjiku and you’re watching tv when your oldest marches into the kitchen, determined. “daddy.” the blond looks up, eyeing back at the spitting image of himself. “yes?” he answers, and you also look back to see what’s going on. slamming a big book on the table, the toddler points to the cover “how are babies made?” you burst out laughing and your husband snatches the book away, making you laugh hysterically. “where’d you find this?!” he questions, and his forehead is already soaked with sweat and he wants to bury himself into the ground. “your office.” he can’t believe his five year old son walked in there and just so happened to find this book: effective positions for baby-making. his cheeks redden and he scans the room to find you and request your help, but he’s greeted with the sight of you rolling around on the living room floor, trying to calm your laughter down. yay.

[forbidden-sunlight]

yandere! literary agent with fem!reader scenario [part two]

warnings: implication of obsessive thoughts or love.

There might be potential triggers in this story. If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the 'back' button on your mobile device or computer and read something much more pleasant.

You are responsible for your Internet consumption!

Hey guys, welcome back to the second installment of this scenario, featuring Yulian Prescott. I'd like to give a big shout-out to my dear friend @deathmetalunicorn1 who helped me write this finale.

As always, bullying on here will not be tolerated. If it does happen, this series will be taken down.

With that being said, sit back, relax, and let's dive back into the cutthroat world of publishing.

Part One

The press conference went as expected. 

Everyone wanted to know who accused best-selling author Abigail Crowley of plagiarism, where is the evidence to prove that an unidentified individual is the one who really wrote The Darkness and The Nightingale, and why are the representatives of the publishing company are now just finding out about it less than a month before its release date. Yandere!Literary Agent is good at his job, at least when it comes to standing in front of flashing cameras and phones shoved in his face, asking for a statement. He answered the journalists who patiently raised their hands and disregarded the ones who kept interrupting with asinine questions that had nothing to do with the subject of the press conference whatsoever. Yes, he had been contacted by the true writer. No, he will not give out a name to respect their privacy. Yes, there is evidence and it will be presented to a judge, should Abigail Crowley wishes to take Sailboat Publishing House to court and fight back against the claims. No, the printing date will not be changed. He is currently with the writer on revisions and he will not take any more questions at this time. Please speak to the company’s PR representative, Ms. Isley, for a formal interview. That is it for today. 

The world now knows the truth. Social media was going to be a proverbial shitstorm; one side will defend Abigail Crowley and say she is the true author as she is still a great writer, and there will be people who speak trash to her out of spite for whatever reason. Some will even try to track you down online and harass you for days on end. Yandere!Literary Agent just hoped that you meant what you said about not being online anymore because of politics. 

In any case, the projected million copies to be sold would have to decrease significantly. You told him over the phone that you didn’t mind, commenting that at least 100,000 should be a tidy enough number and he would still get his commission. He didn't have to worry about the fees since Abigail is going to pay for those, or fight back. That was the ultimatum Yandere!Literary Agent and the board members gave it to her almost a week ago. 

It was six-thirty in the evening when he told you about what had happened. He was still in the office finishing up a few things, and he had you on speaker mode while he typed away at his desk. You were typing too, working on the revisions and thanking the universe that you had a digital copy of your manuscript on file too, so the task he had given you made things a little easier. So did taking two weeks off of work. But the way you saw it, the PTO either had to be used now, or it wouldn’t be rolled over because you had too much PTO. Yes, that can definitely happen in your career field because you need the hours to pay for bills and essentially being alive. You were making good progress and hoped that you didn’t need to pull another all-nighter just to finish up these edits on page 159. 

You were diligent, Yandere!Literary Agent will give you that much. He reminded you of the deadline. You told him to focus on his work, and he’ll have a pristine manuscript in his inbox. Please stop the daily phone calls and text messages, he was putting the pressure on you. This is why you did not want to become an author. 

He contacted you on Friday night about the press conference. The following week, an email titled The Darkness and the Nightingale - final edits popped up as soon he opened his computer on Thursday morning. 

It’s done. Contact me only if there are edits that must absolutely be changed. Going to sleep. Night. 

[First Name]

The manuscript had been sent to him at three o’clock in the morning. You had really cut it close but it was here. The story was finished. He quickly opened up the document. He looked over the edits, compared it to what was written before….and nodded in affirmation. Yes. Yandere!Literary Agent thought as he looked over the words, your words, with a small smile, leaning back against his leather chair. This is a story that will sell. 

Yandere!Literary Agent placed the manuscript on a flash drive, arranged a meeting with the printing companies and sent you three options for the cover art and needed a response as soon as you were able to. All in all, everything had turned out. A week before the release date arrived, The Darkness and The Nightingale were loaded into trucks to be sold in bookstores across the  country.  

One task done. Now to move onto the next project. 

He deleted your contact info. He had no reason to keep it, at least on his phone. Email was enough. Sure enough, another client sent him a pitch for a new trilogy that would act as the prequel to the original ones that were already popular with young adults, and Yandere!Literary Agent dove head first into it. He hadn’t realized that a month had passed since The Darkness and The Nightingale had been published. This is what usually happens when he concentrates solely on one client. A bad habit, yes, but as he has mentioned beforehand, he is good at his job. 

No news yet in regards to Abigail Crowley, the plagiarism issue was dying down in favor of a startlet’s drug overdose, and there was a meeting on Monday to discuss sales. Another win-win for Yulian Prescott, the man who had single-handedly saved the company from going under. But on Friday afternoon, Yandere!Literary Agent received an email from the printing companies and PR department, concerning the sales of your book. Flummoxed, and a little worried that the number of copies unsold outweighed what was printed, he opened the email. 

He blinked. And then blinked again before removing his glasses, giving them a good cleaning and placing them back onto his face. He re-read the email again, his eyes growing wider and wider. This wasn’t about copies that weren’t sold….it was a request from five hundred different printing companies to print your book. The demand wasn’t isolated to the States. There were demands from all over the world! 

Unlocking his phone, he swiped over to TikTok, searched for Booktok and looked at the trending topics. There were reels, memes, and reactions about your book. There were people quoting about your book, reenactments of certain scenes, before and after reactions, etc. Of course there were some who didn’t believe that you wrote it, thinking you stole it from Abigail, but that was beside the point. 

Your first book had taken the world by storm, and he hadn’t even considered this possibility because it has only happened a few times with Sailboat Publishing. He should have negotiated a higher number of books with you! But that was then, this is now. 

He quickly opened a new message on his email, attaching the email he had gotten, inquiring you to see what he has seen and if you would allow more copies to be published. His schedule is open, so please answer when you get a chance.  He received an email from you a few hours later, stating the following:

 I work twelve hour shifts on weekdays and only have weekends to get my life together. Why do we need to discuss numbers? I already received the advanced copy. Were you trying to send an attachment? It didn’t go through. Wi-Fi was down until now. 

[First Name]

Yandere!Literary Agent immediately responded, asking if you would like to meet up later today if that was possible. You said that you were still out running a few errands, but could meet him at Sally’s Diner or a Starbucks.  Both places were located halfway between his office and your home, at least the ones you knew about. If he wasn’t at work today, where else did he want to meet? You don’t want to travel too far, and you’d like to take a nap before it gets too late in the day. He had to fight off the smile that was threatening to stretch across his mouth. Cheeky. He thought. He already had a light lunch, but he wasn’t opposed to getting a mid-afternoon pickup. When he offered to pay for your drink and a pastry of your choice, you responded that you would meet him there in an hour. 

It gave plenty of time to gather what he needed to speak to you about the current situation. 

He met you outside of the building at the allotted time, enjoying a light breeze before following you inside, holding the door open for you and a mother-daughter duo exiting with Strawberry Acai Refreshers in their hands. 

Once the orders were placed under his name, Yandere!Literary Agent led you to the back of the cafe and sat down at one of the small tables. You followed suit, hooking the straps of your backpack on the back of your chair.  “Did you read the attachment?” He asked. 

You nodded. “I did. But….you’re absolutely sure the numbers are right, the ones you’ve shown me? Because if this is your idea of a joke, I swear to God -”

Yulian held up a hand in the air, stopping you from saying anything else.

"Believe me I thought the same thing when I first opened it, but this is no joke, [First Name]. Publishing companies from around the world have reached out, requesting mass publications in at least fifteen different languages, at the moment. And according to the PR team, more keep coming. Your work has gone global, [First Name], and more people are wanting to read it." 

You looked at him in utter disbelief, leaning back against the chair with wide [Eye Color] orbs. Before you could ask him any more questions, the barista called out for Yulian. 

Yandere!Literary Agent stood up, collecting the drinks and pastry and returning to his seat. Placing them down on the table, he gave yours, and put his black coffee to the side so that he could boot up his laptop. He pulled up the reprint requests so you could see it for yourself. The proof that you are a successful writer. You stared at the screen for a moment until you glanced back up at him.

“Why is it so successful? I thought the reason we agreed on a small number of copies to be printed was because of the plagiarism scandal. There’s been nothing on the news about it lately, or about Abigail.” 

Yulian smiled. “Because you are a brilliant writer. While we did agree on a small account of copies to be printed, there’s high praise on social media. Everyone is clamoring to read it, hence why the demand is greater than anyone could have anticipated, myself included.” He folded his hands together, elbows pressing against the table. “Now, regarding the…situation with Ms. Crowley, the legal team still has the materials you had shown to me; the receipts from Etsy, the Google Docs, they all have timestamps. So even if she wishes to take it to court, no one can deny that she did indeed steal your work because you created this masterpiece while she was working on another series. And before you say anything, your personal information has and will not be released.”

You nodded slowly at his words, your shoulders dropping in relief before reaching for your beverage, taking a languid sip from the cup. Then another, obviously relishing the effect of caffeine giving your body that much needed energy boost. Yandere! Literary Agent knew the feeling all too well. 

“Now, how many copies will you allow us to reprint?”

“What are the fees that will come with doing this kind of job?” You fired back. “If there is a global demand like you say there is, then someone will need to translate it. Not to mention there are different cover designs, marketing, all of that fun stuff. Will the royalties, if I am to receive any, be deducted to cover the cost? I do not want to get myself into any more debt that I already have.”

Yandere!Literary Agent pulled out his laptop from his messenger bag, pulling up the spreadsheets that the publishing and financing departments had created earlier in the week. The information included fees for translating, reprinting,  and international shipping based on demand. On the very bottom of the last spreadsheet would be your net income. 

He had no doubt that this amount of money would allow you to be debt-free and live comfortably…at least until you could write another book. Then he saw the confusion, panic, excitement and anxiety swirling in your irises. The mouth opening and closing like a gaping fish. Yandere!Literary Agent had seen that stupefied look more than once. It was the expression of someone who had not expected to receive such a big paycheck, at least until he had kindly explained that there were some fees which needed to be paid, which would be deducted from the royalties. With you, it seemed like he did not have to hold your hand and explain how the business of publishing went, word for word. 

Which is why he was quite surprised to see you suddenly standing up, grabbing your backpack and slinging it over your shoulder. “Where are you going?” He asked, watching you push in the chair.

“I’m leaving.”

“But you still haven’t decided on a number of copies for us to reprint!”

“I’m sorry, but I am not liking where this conversation is headed. As I mentioned before, I write for fun. This isn’t about the money, and I have no desire whatsoever to be your next cash cow.  Can’t you decide on a number and call it a day?”

“Not without your consent! That would be in direct violation of our contract, and you wouldn’t be paid for the reprinted copies!” He exclaimed. Yes, he knew that he was acting a bit…childish, but this is a serious matter! How could you even think of walking away from a one-in-a-million opportunity like this? Or even believe that he would use your writing to embellish the company’s reputation further by being the sole representative of an extremely popular, best-selling writer?

Because in the darkest corner of his mind, a nasty voice would gleefully agree with your accusations. This was nothing personal, it was a business. And he would go where there was talent, and money. Not to mention elevate his status even further as a high-in-demand literary agent for one of the biggest publishing companies in the States. 

You raised an eyebrow at him, then leaned forward, putting your hands on the back of the chair.

“Mister Prescott, for a minute, please pretend I am not a client and explain in layman’s terms, why would I be paid for that? As far as I was concerned, once the book is out of my hands, it is your responsibility and how the printing is handled. Or am I wrong?” 

A client. That’s right….you weren’t a client. You were just a hobbyist writer who had your work stolen by one of his clients. But you were still a writer, someone who could create worlds while working godawful shifts back-to-back. So he spoke plainly to you.

While you were not officially his client, your work was still part of Sailboat Publishing, therefore it is his responsibility to ensure that the royalties matched the time and effort you had put in creating The Darkness and The Nightingale. Yes, he had to make sure the quality of the book’s printing were high quality and not a hackneyed rush job just to keep up with the demand. 

Then he said he would be delighted if he could be your official representative…in the near future.

You shook your head. “No need for that. You returned my story to me. After we decide on numbers, I’d say your business with me is done.”

“You don’t want to be an author on the New York Times’ Bestseller List.” It was more of a statement than a question. So why did his heart drop into the pit of his stomach at the thought of never seeing you again once you walk out of the door?

“I’m pretty sure you have more than enough clients to keep yourself busy for a long time.” You said dryly. “You’d drive yourself crazy if you worked with me.”

“And how do you know that it won’t work out?” He challenged you with a small smile. You just gave him an ‘are-you-shitting-me’ frown before releasing a low sigh.

“I still have six more months left on my contract with the hospital. I can’t just quit or I risk having to pay back everything as compensation for breaching it before the end of the contract. I wouldn’t be able to do anything related to the book, like tours and interviews until…sometime next year? No, more like the beginning of next year, like around February. I am starting to outline the concept of another idea I have for a book, a standalone, but I only write on my days off or when I’m on my lunch break. Are you fine with waiting until I send you a query letter and the first fifty pages until next February? Is that too long for your liking?”

Yandere! Literary Agent was not bothered by this proposition. If anything, it worked out perfectly with his schedule. And there is the prospect of you becoming his official client. However, he did not want to push your boundaries any more than he already has for today. Instead, he said that it was fine with him. 

“If you agree to us printing more copies of The Darkness and The Nightingale, then we’ll be all set until next year. Do you want to use the same cover worldwide, or do you want us to come up with some alternative covers for different countries, and send you the designs you like?”

“...Alternative.” You said, pulling back the chair and sitting back down, backpack plopped into the adjacent seat. “Do you have any artists that you recommend, or have portfolios I could look at?”

Decisions were discussed within the next hour, and Yandere!Literary Agent was satisfied with leaving Starbucks with an idea of what his Monday morning is going to look like. But what satisfied him more was the number of copies that he and you agreed on. Fifty-thousand, in each language. 

It was enough to make his heart quicken with excitement. 

Or is he anticipating the momentous day when you signed a contract with Sailboat Publishing and he became your literary agent? Six months might seem like a long time….but he prided himself on being a patient man. 

Knowing he will be the best damned agent for you, because you deserve nothing less, and much more.  

Knowing he will be the only one to read your WIPS, help you become a better writer, protect you from the paparazzi and anyone else who would dare to try to covet you like a trophy. 

Knowing that in the end, all you will have is him. And he will have you, whether you like it or not. 

If Abigail Crowley keeps trying to contact him, pleading that she wasn’t wrong and that she did have a new idea for a book so please read her emails she’s been sending please give her one more chance don’t ruin her life please…he might have to do something about it. 

Noisy dogs need to be fed, right?

©️do not repost or use any of the characters depicted here without the author’s permission. forbidden-sunlight, 2024

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[hoseoksluna]

VAPOR, pt I. | jjk ft. myg

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x steam!oc

genre: smut, a hint of angst

word count: 10.6k

summary: yoongi never promised his healing time would be easy and when he hurts you enough that you need your other "boyfriend", jungkook is quick to rescue you.

pinterest board: blur | playlist: car playlist

warnings: mentions of a sex toy, jungkook is upset and angry at his hyung, public sex, dirty talk, sexual tension and frustration, praise kink, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), bruising, cum swallowing, going behind someone's back........

note: HI MY LOVES—MY STEAM DRABBLE IS HERE AND I'VE NEVER BEEN MORE EXCITED TO POST SOMETHING, OH MY GOSH. OKAY, before i say anything else, i would like to put a disclaimer here: even though all my characters are fictional, they are still human in this world, which means they fuck up, which means they're not perfect whatsoever and never will be. i would like to really put an emphasis on that before you read and if i receive any vulgar and rude asks about this, i assure you that i will not respond to them. OKAY ALL SERIOUSNESS ASIDE—this was fucking AMAZING TO WRITE and i already CANNOT WAIT to start writing another part, this time with yoongi included. i promise to make everything right and—SPOILER—this couple WILL get a happy ending, so don't worry, my loves. ENJOY READING. SPAM MY INBOX. I LOVE YOU.

There’s a mango-scented candle rustling in a bag, resting on the passenger seat, and Jungkook is driving very carefully so as to not knock it over and possibly break it. For a moment, one that reemerges in his headspace as he keeps his foot light on the pedal, he wonders if he should buckle a seatbelt around it and ensure its safety that way, his fear of ruining his surprise for you causing his brain to come up with the strangest of ideas—in the name of the love he carries for you. 

Is it love, though? 

Jungkook furrows his brows, that thought seizing his sternum enough that he has to turn his music down and let some fresh air in through the window so he doesn’t crash his fucking car. Icy sweat stings his spine, his stomach churning and without sparing a second longer, his eyes take after the sadness of the weather outside his vehicle. His vision blurs and he rubs his eye, one at a time, to focus on the road.

A red light blinks at him and suddenly, there’s fury that he feels deep within chest. 

Conceivably because slowing down means he has to face the onrush of emotions sloshing in him. Has to hear the rain not just outside, but inside, too. Has to feel the prick of those raindrops along his waterline. The heft of those clouds outside and inside his clavicles as well, tightening and tightening. 

Jungkook sighs, drumming his fingers upon his steering wheel, trying to distract himself from it all. From the invading question that absorbs his body like the vapor rising across the night-clothed street—when did he get so emotional? 

Unfortunately, he knows the answer right away.

You’ve been sad. On your own. 

It’s been a few weeks since all three of you made a deal to stick together. Yoongi has been brave, his good mood clutching him for a lot longer than Jungkook sadly estimated. You’ve spent these past two Fridays and weekends together, out and about, rolling in bed, rolling in Yoongi’s apartment. It was all fun and games until the boss reached a dead end. Somehow. Jungkook still doesn’t know what it was that Yoongi actually saw—what was that one particular thing that caused him to spiral. 

To relapse. 

And you didn’t tell him until it was too late. 

Perhaps, you did tell him—nonverbally, that is. You stopped adding your signed messages whenever he was texting with Yoongi during the week and even those alone stopped coming in as the days went on. There was something wrong and he knew it. His intuition only proved to be right when another weekend showed its face and it contained no undertone of you. And no suggestion of Yoongi either. 

Silence. Dead silence. 

And it wasn’t until Jungkook got an incoming call from an unknown number half an hour ago that he realized the gravity of the situation. 

It was you who called him up, sobbing into the phone, having stolen his number from Yoongi’s device. As difficult as it was to understand what happened, Jungkook tied all the strings of information you gave him between your broken breaths and blubbering: Yoongi hasn’t spoken to you all day and took a shower alone, the latter being the most devastating of the two. 

He felt bad for you, terribly bad for you—but simultaneously, he was upset with you. 

Still is. 

It’s one of the reasons why he’s driving up to Yoongi’s apartment. With a mango-scented candle and a puffed-up bag of cheese balls. He doesn’t want to think what the other reasons are, not when he’s staring down his gift for you, clicking his tongue at last and reaching over for the seatbelt and sliding it into its buckle. Just in time for the traffic light to turn green.

Now, now he’s speeding down the road, turning up the volume of his car playlist. A slow song by the Arctic Monkeys is playing and it’s a movie—the set of circumstances that are happening in the present. The rain, the tightness in his chest, the but faint adrenaline of the momentum. What is he really doing? 

It feels as though he’s following a script, however his eyes haven’t skimmed down the entire thing. He doesn’t know how this is going to end. Hell, he doesn’t even know if he’s doing the right thing because he’s planning on staying outside of his hyung’s apartment. Like hell he’s going inside when his sweetheart—

Jungkook purses his lips. Moves the shift stick. Kills the engine. Closes his eyes. 

His heart thumps. Turbulently. It stirs worry in him. What if he’s going to die? 

This is the first time he’s left in the hands of the unknown. He’s always had the sixth sense of knowing tactness like the back of his hand, although this time he doesn’t know shit. Doesn’t know if he’s breaking his best friend’s trust. Doesn’t know what’s going to happen once he sees you, possibly wearing one of your nighttime robes. The last time you touched him was the last time he had his release. His hand doesn’t feel as good as yours does—and his orgasm isn’t as fulfilling as when it’s shared with you. He’s brimming with frustration, with anger so vast that he could explode and he knows it’s unfair to be mad at Yoongi, when he himself said it wasn’t going to be easy, that it was going to take a lot of work. But Jungkook can’t help his feelings. Can’t help to see you. 

Only you. 

Broken, tear-stained, when it should be blush painting your cheeks red from all the love and happiness your own boyfriend should give you as it’s his duty. Something he’s responsible for. Something he should put above himself. 

“Drunken monologues, confused because it's not like I'm falling in love, I just want you to do me no good and you look like you could,” Alex Turner sings and Jungkook’s chin quivers, his heart gaining tempo, his perturbation rising—owing to the violence of that muscle, owing to the state of your feelings. 

He wonders if you’re still crying. 

He’s outside of Yoongi’s apartment. Didn’t even realize it, mind too fucked up, too full of you. 

Grabbing his phone, he sends you a text. 

I’m here. Come outside 

A reply pings right away. 

SWEETHEART: ? 

SWEETHEART: it’s raining 

He’s halfway typing his response that he doesn’t want to go inside, but he decides against it. Doesn’t want to make it worse for you. If you knew of the dark corners of his mind that don’t particularly like Yoongi at the moment, you wouldn’t look at him with those pretty eyes of yours as you always do. 

He can’t afford that. 

I have an umbrella

As his thumb hovers above his phone, waiting for your reply, he can almost hear your sigh. Can feel your breath on his clammy palm as he rubs it on his pants in effort to rid himself of the nerves crawling in his veins. The breath he was favored enough to hold in his grasp the last time he had you to himself—clamping your mouth shut as he spanked your clit for being so beautifully responsive to his touch, rubbing it until your eyes whisked back while Yoongi slept beside you, unaware. 

It’s engraved in his brain. It plays on loop before sleep overtakes him at night and it’s his first thought in the morning once consciousness reminds him that you’re not his. 

SWEETHEART: is it cold outside?

He figures you’re asking the question in order to decide whether you should change or not. It seems as though warm pajamas don’t exist in your world, for the beginning of September is in the process of blooming. It nudges his anger; provokes it enough to fill it with a lethal dose of a yearning to buy you the warmest pair of pants he could find. He clenches his fist, thumb quick to type a response. 

Wear something that covers your legs or stay home. 

The same thumb shakes at the expression of his firmness, his anger disturbed, wholly—wholly disturbed. If you come out wearing your little shorts—

A reply pings again. 

SWEETHEART: ok ill change

And another one right away. 

SWEETHEART: ill text u when i come down

That’s a good girl. 

He almost types it right then and there, but something within, despite the slowly calming storm of his feelings, despite his cock tightening in his pants at the swift image of your bare legs, at the lingering perception of you being a good girl and listening to him, drags his thumb to his emojis. A sudden renewal of his sixth sense, and he doesn’t understand how it’s happened as it dawns on him, makes him realize that’s not exactly what you need right now. You didn’t call him for a fuck. 

You called him for emotional support. 

👍🏻

And like the good girl you are, you merely take five minutes. Stay true to your words, text him as you’re coming down and Jungkook grabs his umbrella from the backseat. Doesn’t forget to unbuckle the seatbelt in the passenger seat. Saves himself from the embarrassment. 

The trees sway in his direction, inviting him in, once he takes two steps at the time, coming up the stairs. He watches them through the clear roundness of his shield, beckoning him closer. The rain pelts against it, but softly this time. Merciful as it knows you’re about to emerge from the ocean of such unfathomable sadness. It doesn’t wish to frighten you, rather it desires to soothe your escaping, make it less harrowing. Even the wind that whips at him stills as soon as you open the door, bathed in light. 

And Jungkook is struck with the notion that he wants to do the same. 

You’re wearing flared leggings. Gray. With sneakers of the same color and a white top that hugs your waist, that seems way smaller than the last time he touched it. He gets a glimpse of it, and it unnerves him, as you lift your hand to curl a strand of your hair behind your ear because otherwise your body is shrouded in a flannel that’s too big for you. Too robust for you and your particular liking of tight, little clothes. 

He doesn’t want to know who that garment belongs to. Doesn’t even want to come close to unfolding that thought, to even let it get a taste of his burning blood. Because there’s another matter at hand. 

You’ve lost weight. 

And he’s going to kill his hyung for it. 

You step out and it’s an instinct, the way his arm draws closer to you so you don’t get touched by the rain, even if it means the raindrops get to trace the back of his head and the nape of his neck. Yet even that invigorating, tender liquid doesn’t cool the scorching lividness that takes place beneath his skin, beneath his bones. But then you touch his hand, left to left, drag it away and hide yourself in his chest. Everything changes when you do that. 

Jungkook explodes. Silently. Gently. His chin quivers again and he doesn’t care that you can hear the tremor of his heart as you lay your ear against it. Doesn’t care that his grip might hurt you as he hugs you back, thinking he could wrap his arm twice around your much different waist. And he takes you like this. Back to his car. He doesn’t even feel the wetness pooling in his waterline, leading you as you walk backwards. And you laugh, you laugh softly while he inhales your mango scent that has somehow even crept up to your scalp, and he doesn’t believe it’s that easy. 

It can’t be that easy to make you feel better. 

He opens the door for you, a façade of nothingness plastered on his face as he tries his hardest to remain stoic so you wouldn’t see the turmoil churning within every perimeter of his body. And it’s an instinct, too, the way he catches your little purse when it slips off your shoulder, even though he doesn’t see it, too busy devouring your gaze—afraid, awfully afraid that tonight might be the last time he sees your pretty eyes, considering the contempt he’s now showing his hyung. 

If Yoongi finds out about this, it’s over. 

His life is over, too. 

Anger, frustration, sadness, love—how is he able to feel all of those emotions at once? You purse your lips, your weary eyes skip his features all the way to his mouth, stopping at his lip ring and the question rises again in his brain. 

Is it love? 

The rain falls harder. And so does he, unfortunately. 

“I got you something. It’s right there.” He tips his chin to the passenger seat without taking his gaze off of your busy eyes. They’re still looking at his mouth, watching every word come out. He finds it so endearing that there’s nothing more he wants to do than grab your cheeks and kiss you for it. Maybe his frustration would loosen a little bit if he did it. “Don’t sit on it.” 

It’s that addition to his previous sentence that causes you to flick those pretty irises of yours up to his. And he studies it as the double meaning uncoils in your brain, even though it was by accident that it tumbled out of his mouth. The weariness in your orbs parts like clouds upon the heavens, though no sunshine spills through them. There’s still a lingering blankness, something unknown, something foreign. Then, the tiniest of smiles curls your mouth and it jolts through him, his heart thudding harder—to the point that even more profound discomfort settles in. 

“Did you get me a dildo? I could use one right now.” 

The perplex that seizes him almost causes his legs to give out. And he can’t help it, the way his eyes roll back and his hand, with your purse hanging from his forearm, runs down his face. Jungkook wants to get drenched in the rain—maybe if the raindrops put out the sudden fire licking at his every nerve ending, maybe then he’ll come to understand how you manage to be in the mood when your state of mind can’t possibly let you have dirty thoughts. 

His cock tightens again and he calls you by your name, firmly. He can’t have this. Not right now. He needs to be sensible. You need it. “Get in the car.” 

You listen, but your smile falters. Grabbing your bag from his forearm, you turn around, bending over to wrap your fist around the bag on the passenger seat. Jungkook doesn’t mean to look at your delicious round cheeks and once he discovers that they’re hidden under that layer of the hideous flannel, he sighs a breath of relief. He can’t look at you that way. Averts his gaze, immediately. 

As soon as you’re seated, he clicks the door shut. Considers letting the rain have him. Did he make a mistake, being firm with you? 

Inside his car, his favorite song is mellowly playing. In the mere few seconds, you’ve managed to suffuse the entire atmosphere with your mango scent and Jungkook inhales it. It takes him into a whole different world, one filled with eternal sunlight as the song portrays it. He finds himself in a country of spring that has been briskly rained upon and now is being softly seared with those shafts of light and speckles of heat, the details of your beauty. 

“For the love of my life, she's got glow on her face…” the singer sings and the lyrics plod into his mind. Jungkook wishes the description applied to you at this very moment like it had before, like it had every single time he stole a glance at you. He misses your glow and your glitter and it pierces his unstable heart that he finds no traces of those particles of shimmer on your cheekbones and eyelids as you’re rummaging through the bag, not even on your cupid’s bow as you gasp, gently, discovering he bought you your favorite things. 

You’re looking at him with such smothered joy and it would relieve his feelings if he didn’t feel such guilt, if he didn’t feel as though he was a crumbling pillar, a failure undeserving of your time. 

You take the candle into your small hands. Such a stark contrast—his heart aches at the sight of it. You pop the lid open, sniff the aroma and your mouth rounds in a terribly, terribly cute manner. Jungkook is glad for the lack of light in the space of his car, which hides his growing manhood. He props an elbow on the door and pinches his nose, trying to regain his composure— 

“It’s mango-scented,” you say in disbelief, pouting and Jungkook can’t breathe. “And cheese balls, are you kidding me?” You open the bag right away, plopping the treat into your mouth. He’s surprised you eat just one—it doesn’t feel right. “Thank you. Honestly. Thank you.” You cradle it into your chest and Jungkook has to look away. 

What has Yoongi done to you that you react this way to such silly things? He needs to ask, but he fears your answer. And what’s worse, he fears what he’ll do to him once you tell him. 

“What did you tell him?” He needs to get away from this place, but it has to correlate with your plan, if there even is any. If not, he’ll handle it. Figure something out. 

You take a sharp breath, loading your gifts back into the bag, keeping it nice and safe on your lap. Then, you lick your lips and look at him with an intention that causes his heart to jump right there onto the wonderfully clothed flesh of your thighs. “I told him I was going home.” 

Home. Since the moment he knew of your existence, your home has been the place wherever Yoongi resided. It never mattered where. Jungkook grips the steering wheel, knuckles white. “Where do you live?” 

You tell him your address. He knows that from this day on, he’ll never, ever forget it. He starts the engine, wondering in the meantime about the ordinariest things of your life. Do you live there during the week and spend your weekends at Yoongi’s apartment? Or has he completely overtaken your life that you spend every hour of it in his presence? He wants to know. And he wants to get some food in that slim tummy of yours. “Do you have any food there? When was the last time you were there?” 

It’s you who looks away now, staring ahead, playing with your fingers while the rest are still wrapped around the bag. “I don’t live there anymore. Haven’t been there in months.” 

Jungkook bites his lip. Too, too many questions are hovering in his brain—he barely has the capacity to think about them, let alone hurl them at you. “What did he say when you told him you were going home?” 

You snivel and his heart on your thighs twitches in pain. He has to grip the steering wheel harder in order not to jump out of this car and kick down Yoongi’s door. 

“Nothing.” 

Jungkook puts the car in drive, wordlessly, seething inside. He’ll invent another plan while yours will remain its prototype. Will keep you safe.

Safe, fed and tearless. 

The drive is quiet, save for the euphonious melodies emitting through his never-ending playlist. The rain has become less severe, soft in nature, only adding to the background noise—adding to the process of your mollification that he’s overseeing. He’s put a stop to the questions. Has figured you have enough of them, for the only reason you decided to lie to your own boyfriend and go behind his back was because you needed to get out of his clutches. 

A decision he approves of. 

The quietness has helped him regain his composure fully, set some things straight in his brain as the anger in him slowly dissipated. Space is good, for both his hyung and you and he’s proud of you for allowing yourself to get to this point that you walked away. Yoongi, evidently, has returned to his hermit tendencies and Jungkook knows very well that it’s something that he needs in his healing time. It’s who he is; who he always has been. He didn’t push him away too many times for him to be possibly wrong about this and while the information he gained from you that Yoongi changed his ways shattered Jungkook’s heart and glued it back together, he knew, somehow, deep within him, that it was just an effort. For you. 

He didn’t think it was a façade because Yoongi is certainly not a phony person. 

He did it for you. Tried his hardest. And succeeded. With your help, he’s sure—which makes it all the more beautiful—but Yoongi is still Yoongi. 

Someone who deals with things on his own. 

And although the distance he needs hurts other people, he doesn’t mean it. Jungkook knows this just as well, despite the fact what he truly thinks is that Yoongi should try harder. 

For you. 

He needs to tell you this. Needs you to know. But he doesn’t think you’re ready to hear it just yet, which is okay. The plan is constructed, he’s here for you and he will make you feel better. He will caress your heart and make your belly full. Will make you forget for a little while before he gently brings you back to reality. 

You deserve this. After everything you’ve been through. Because of him. Because of Yoongi. 

And because of this, he no longer feels guilty that he has you to himself without Yoongi knowing. Even if that means he risks his brotherhood, even if that means he risks his affection for you seeing the light of day. 

You’re more important. 

It’s this thought that gets interrupted by a sudden ring of your phone. You jump, zipping your purse open and Jungkook keeps his eyes on the road. He doesn’t really want to see the kind of picture you have Yoongi saved under. He has to keep his feelings intact. Remain calm. 

Your breath shakes. “He’s video calling me.” 

Sparks of electricity nip at his fingertips. A surge of adrenaline, the threatening, false notion that he’s doing the wrong thing. Jungkook almost smirks. It’s so fucking thrilling to him. 

He lets you decide on your own what to do, but you grow unsure, nerves burdening you. He feels that heft and it’s quick to sober him up. 

“Should I get out of this car? Say I’m taking a walk?” you ask, your pretty, pretty eyes wide, your pupils so tiny. Jungkook wants to take your hand in his, take your fear that makes you think these silly thoughts and crush it. 

He’s here. He’s going to take care of this. Of you. 

“Let it ring.” 

You look back down at your phone, lip between your teeth, but Jungkook keeps his eyes on you, the red of the stoplight pervading you with the danger of your girlish freedom. And it does ring two more times before Yoongi gives up. 

Good. 

You have the right to need to distance yourself just as much as he does. Give him the same silent treatment like he did to you.

There’s a smug smirk plastered on his face when he catches you putting your phone back into your purse before the light turns green. He speeds down the road, driving with just one hand, ready to unfold his plan. 

One he’s already shared with you. 

He’s taking you to the mall. 

His hand itches to take yours as you walk beside him. Strangers stare you down, but you keep your attention on the myriads of shops lining the side of the promenade. He doesn’t understand how it’s possible that there’s so many people wasting their Thursday at such a place like this. At this hour, especially. It kind of makes him regret that he took you here, despite the fact the sole purpose of it was to feed you until you were full. The lights are too bright, children are screaming and running around and it’s giving him a headache, but one look at you changes his mind in an instant. The glow he missed has found its way back to your cheeks and there’s a glint to your eyes that he hasn’t seen in a long while. The paleness is gone and he’s not really ignorant to the way a bush of roses begins to bloom in his chest at the realization. 

You stop dead in your tracks all of a sudden. Your little purse slips off of your shoulder. As attentive as he always is, he slides it back up, a smile tugging his mouth to the side. He thinks it’s just so damn cute. And the fact you don’t pay any attention to it as well. Probably used to it. 

Red posters of sale adorn the storefront that has caught your eye. Jungkook is unfamiliar with it, but you seem to be completely enthralled by it. 

“Where do you wanna eat?” he provokes. Already knows what restaurant you’ll be feasting at, obviously, but poking you is a matter of enjoyment for him. “There’s so many food courts to choose from.” 

You look at him and clutch your stomach, as if the mere mention of food made you hungry. A faint, faded light flashes across that glint in your irises before it dwindles away and Jungkook is ready to throw you over his shoulder and push people off of his path to get you there right now. 

“Can we… go here first?” you ask, hesitatingly, grabbing a hold of his elbow, but he feels as though you’re squeezing his heart, wringing it out of all that liquid emotion that he swallowed down earlier in the car. Your touch is warm, like the pond water kissed by the sun back at his cabin, seeping into his skin and languidly streaming through his body. 

It’s automatic, primal and right, the way he clasps his other hand across your fingers wrapped around his bicep and the way your body draws closer to his. It should be normal to do this when he’s seen you bare—when he’s seen you feral, needy and disappear into your pleasure, one he’s the creator of. Why does it feel so thrilling? So dangerous? 

You can meander through as many stores as you want. And he tells you that, or at least tries to, as he smiles at you, softly, and nods his head, letting you lead him inside the shop that has so vehemently caught your attention. 

A trillion styles of jeans, tiny tops, skirts and shorts of the same size, Jungkook understands your fascination as he takes it all in. And he’s pleasantly surprised when you indulge him as you fondle every material of every clothing you like, telling him how pretty you find it. You’re not timid to show him your disappointment either, wrinkling your nose, when the fabric is too frail or too expensive for the price, muttering vulgarities directed to capitalism and leading him away. 

It isn’t until your sight stumbles upon a rack of dresses that your breath, audibly, hitches in your throat. And you unlink your arm from his, going straight for your seemingly new obsession. 

A red dress. A sheer fabric, more like. With roses sewn in, a split in the middle, one strap covering only a part of the hanger. It’s the only piece of clothing you actually take into both of your hands, putting it against your body, as if to see what it would look like on you. Fuck if he knows what you’re doing—all he knows is that his throat is dry, the image of you wearing something like this making him a living, breathing corpse. 

Jungkook clenches his fists. Even more so when you disappointingly click your tongue upon seeing the price tag, putting it back where you found it. The thought of you not having that dress causing his heart to lodge, tightly and disturbingly, in the shriveled walls of his throat. 

Not happening. Not under his watch. 

That dress was made for you. 

Jungkook licks his lips. Doesn’t stop the words from spilling out. “Why don’t you try it on?”

You give him a look as if he was a mad man. And he is. That he certainly is. “Please, this costs more than I can afford. I’d only go home crying if I tried it on and had to put it back.”

He stifles a laugh at how ridiculous you sound. Picks up the price tag. Less than two hundred thousand wons. It wouldn’t even make a dent in his bank account. 

He grabs the hanger. Hands it to you. “Go try it on, sweetheart.” 

You roll your eyes. Don’t look amused at all. Your brows knit ever so adorably and the corners of your mouth curl downwards, arms crossing over your chest. Oh, he’s going to wipe that expression off of your face. Paint it in pretty, pretty colors. “No, thanks. I think I cried enough today. Let’s go.” 

You walk past him, but Jungkook stops you. Grabs your arm. Calls your name, firmly. “I’m not gonna repeat myself.” 

You huff. “Is there something wrong with your ears?” Your brows quirk and he thinks he died again. Might melt into a putty. Just for you. 

He smirks, showing his teeth. “It’s no issue for me,” he says, speaking of money, taking your hand in his and enveloping your fingers around the hanger. “So be good and try on this dress for me. Off you go.” 

Jungkook turns you around and, with his palms on your shoulders, he leads you towards the dressing rooms, not stopping until he finds one that’s unoccupied. You huff and puff again, but he gently pushes you inside. And when you open your mouth to say something, he drags the curtain to the side. A laughter bubbles in his chest. 

“You’re not buying this for me.” 

Jungkook shakes his head. “Strip.” 

There’s no witty remark, no exhales of your exasperated breaths, only the obnoxious music blasting through the speakers and he assumes that you gave in to him. A tendril of proudness, not of his actions but for you and your good behavior, swims in the hot bloodstream of his veins and it’s now, now that he’s almost alone and you’re out of view, save for your feet clad in pink socks under the curtain, that he perceives that he’s coated in sweat. The disorder of his colorful, all kinds of feelings has turned him so numb that he doesn’t even feel grounded in his body. He needs a strong sip of alcohol. And a good meal. 

He begins to flutter the sides of his leather jacket, just to alleviate himself of how hot he feels, when he hears you gasp, your footsies shuffling on the carpeted floor. He takes a step towards the dressing room, a trembling hand reaching for the curtain and stopping there—a spasm of nerves zaps his abdomen, spreading iciness to the tips of his fingers. He knows what he’s about to see will make him a dead man for the third time this evening and because of that, he takes a deep, soundless breath, closing his eyes for a mere second before his hand pulls the curtain away. 

Nothing, absolutely nothing could have prepared him for the sight before him. 

And nothing is what you’re wearing underneath the dress. 

Abruptly, there’s no music. There’s no gasps emitting out of that marvelous mouth of yours. And the film in front of his eyes is in slow motion, accompanied by the winged fuckers going equally mad inside his stomach. You’re twirling. From side to side. Patting down the material tight against your slender body. A grin on your face, one that he’s last seen during that time joy rested in you, bathes you in a glow that he longed to see. The glint, the light in your eyes takes on a whole new intensity and it shoots embers into his bare hands, burning him ferociously and curtly—just for him to find that he likes it and that he wants more. You turn around, facing him, and you swathe him with that flaring, almost raging light. It’s the sole thing he senses amidst the numbness of his headspace. 

Except for one thing. 

The ruffle of the sorry excuse for a rose beneath the singular strap of the dress is but an inch above your stiffened nipple while the other, just as excited, is left bare for his eyes—as if the principle of being exposed like that awakened your body. But it’s the vast, stitched red buds of that flower across your small waist, stomach, mound and the apex of your thighs that brings his attention to this other thing that he’s aware of. 

He’s hard for you. 

This image of you will perpetually haunt his dreams. Your little, carmine rose tattoos as if lining your skin, mainly. His throat swallows, dryly. 

Jungkook cups himself in an effort to hide his arousal and his bafflement from your stark, astonishing beauty. He thinks you’re unquestionably otherworldly, so far beyond his reach and his league that it aches. As much as the apprehension that if you wore anything else in this fucking dressing room, he’d fall to his knees just the same.

And then you speak and somehow you bring sharpness back into his reality. 

“The socks go well with the dress, don’t you think?” 

Jungkook glances at your feet and what he sees makes him pinch his eyes and let out a rumble of laughter. There’s a fucking Pikachu on your socks, grinning up at him, mocking him for getting hard for you for the third time. 

He can’t look back up and be a witness to the magnificence of your body. If he allows himself to do so, he will combust. Bring the whole building down—

A set of footsteps sound behind him and, with a racing heart, Jungkook steps inside the dressing room, shrouding you with his body without touching you, pulling the curtain shut. You startle, backing away until your spine leans against the mirror and there’s no space, none whatsoever, for him to run from you because when he turns back around, it’s your eyes he meets first. Nose to nose, breath to breath. 

When did they start making dressing rooms so fucking small? 

His breath picks up speed. He wants to pretend he doesn’t see the thick veil of your feminine carnality shunning out the light in your irises, because he can’t afford this, not when you’re sad, not when you need a friend, not when he needs to be stable for you. But the more you look at him, the more you draw him in and he has very little strength to fight against it. 

Averting his gaze, he props a hand on the wall beside your mirror. Notices your clothes, untidy, sprawled on the bench. Finds no traces of you taking off your underwear, which means only one thing.

His heart nearly skips a beat. 

“Where’s your underwear?”

Your grin forms into a smirk and you latch both of your hands onto the sides of his jacket. Danger mingles into that carnality in your eyes and Jungkook knows, right at this instant, that he’s fucked. “Didn’t take any.” 

His cock hardens even more in his hand. A brief flashback of the way he ripped your panties off at his cabin when you disobeyed him fills his mind, and he grows weak. It’s still a private pleasure of his, one that he likes recollecting, no matter the events that took place after. And the whole escapade has caused him to form a certain attachment to your underwear—or lack thereof. Knowing you didn’t take any on your first, secret night out with him suffuses him with delectation, one that intertwines with a rising question in him. 

Did you choose not to wear it for the sake of the old time or did you choose not to wear it because you’re expecting something from him? 

He yearns to know. Needs to. 

“Why?” 

Your fists bunch up his T-shirt underneath the jacket, tip of the tongue darting out to lick across your top lip. Your eyes follow the way you squeeze the fabric and Jungkook catches your long lashes quivering at your discovery of his quite prominent problem. A blush scatters along your nose and cheekbones and he doesn’t have to look down to know that his hand scarcely conceals his imprint. He’s grown harder for you in this close proximity and, peculiarly, light pervades him now that you know about his arousal, even though he doesn’t expect you, nor demand from you, to do anything about it. 

“Oh, you know.” Palms flat, you drift them down his stomach. Jungkook stiffens, a forest burned by you. “It would only get in the way.” 

He sucks in a breath, pressing his other hand beside your head, caging you in, his cock in full clothed glory for you. His head spins, but paradoxically, he feels himself gaining strength, as if you managed to rejuvenate him by laying out your cards on the table in such a filthy, electrifying manner. 

“Get in the way of what?”

You mirror him, sucking in a breath of your own. “Get in the way of you fucking my brains out?” 

A quirk of his brow. A twitch of his cock. He can’t breathe—you’ve taken all of the remaining oxygen in his lungs when you sucked in that breath and uttered those dirty, dirty words. How are you capable of this? What has Yoongi done to you? Jungkook drags his teeth up his bottom lip, although it attenuates close to nothing. His arousal only blossoms, the bush of roses in his gut thickening, so akin to your little, feigned tattoos. He yearns to feel them under his palm. 

A dead man, for the fourth time. 

His knees might give out. His hands are clammy.

Though his mouth acts on its own. “Have you forgotten what I’m capable of doing?” 

He watches the flashback swim past your irises and it connects to your mouth, expanding it into a coy smile. “I guess I have.” 

Bad, bad girl. It’s you who’s fucking his brains out, trembling like a little leaf, longing for his touch, calling out for his hands. He feels them buzz, interwoven with your senses and your desires. Even if you didn’t move an inch, if you remained still as a sculpture, his hands would still know you want them and it drives him to the peak of insanity—enough for him to consider taking you right here and there, in all seriousness. In spite of the fact he still has a mind of his own and is aware that he shouldn’t. For Yoongi’s sake, yes—but mostly for your sake. 

The tips of his fingers tingle with the craving to rip that flimsy fabric off of you and make you remember what he did to you, even though you fully remember. Something about that fills him with an onrush of vigorous energy, one that needs a release. It whispers, most intensely, its plea for it within his skin. 

“Do I really need to remind you?” Jungkook asks, playing your little game after all, digits clenched into fists on either side of your head. You nod, briefly, seemingly becoming smaller in his captivity, hands drifting lower, rooting by his hips. He’s surprised he’s letting you touch him like this, but then he’d let you do anything you want. He sweeps a glance at your form, just once, before he bores his gaze back into yours. It did something to you and he draws closer, senses you squeezing your thighs together. Such a cute, bad girl. “It would be a pity to rip this dress off of you. What would they think, hm? If you walked out of this dressing room and had to explain to them what happened?” 

Jungkook drags a finger down your neck and at the first physical contact, you release a breath that wafts over him, deepens his heat. He traces the line of your strap until he reaches the frilly bud of the rose and tugs at it, just once. 

He’s about to continue taunting you, but you catch him off guard. 

“I dunno, I’d tell them I wanted you to do it. That I needed the reminder,” you whisper and your low tone of voice curls unfathomably somewhere within his gut, forcing him to double over. You hook your fingers around his belt loops and Jungkook brims with gladness that he didn’t wear a belt. “What was it that you did to me?” 

He nearly, nearly rolls his eyes back. The effect you have on him—he craves to bunch your hair in his fist, teach you a lesson regarding what you’re doing to him. 

And he just might. Take full responsibility while he’s at it. 

Two responses swirl on his tongue, however. 

One to scold you for provoking him in public, but he knows it would stall the aroused energy and back it away into a corner. The other to keep going and drive you to his level of insanity. 

It’s a crossroad and he’s standing in the middle, a man in charge, his morals questioned and at absolute fucking risk. His blood pumps at full speed and sweat lines his forehead. He’s on the verge of bursting. Time and tension presses against him and with all that energy and strength pulsating in him, it’s scarcely the one he needs to put a stop to this all. It all leads into a far different direction, leading him away from the clearness of his morals. 

Fuck. 

Then, your chest lifts in desperate staccatos and that’s it for him. That’s the breaking point. 

No way out. 

Only way in. 

For you. 

Jungkook wets his lips. “How well can you keep a secret?” 

In the same trembling staccatos, you exhale in relief and he’s ready to give you everything. Absolutely fucking everything. “I’m the best in the game.” 

A flash of light in his being. He’s immensely pleased with your answer, growing hotter and hotter. He inches closer to you, flush to your body, lips by your ear. Feels your little nubs pressing against his upper abdominal muscles. Craves to sink his teeth into the delicious flesh of your ear. “You can’t tell anyone about this,” he starts, mimicking your low tone, speaking of the evident elephant in the room, hoping you catch onto it. “And if they ask, you have to come up with something else. Can you do that?” 

He pulls away a tiny bit, just to study your reaction. Your hold tightens on his belt loops while your mouth parts and your head nods in agreement, ever so needy but patient for his next move. He wants to lick you all over just for that, reward you until you lose your voice. 

“You teased me with your words, with your little bratty mouth, and even though you listened well when I told you to lick your finger for me, you disobeyed me when I instructed you to not wear panties at my place,” he starts, lips mouthing your ear and he feels the need of your body to stabilize at the memory. Offering you his own, he presses closer to you until he pins you against the mirror, until both pairs of lungs sync in movement, his fingers skimming, barely, over the sides of your hips. Though something resistant takes place in the middle of that entwinement. Something that gives his mouth the aftertaste of copper. “And when I found out, I ripped them off of you. Fingered you so fast you came in seconds and made a mess on my hand. And then…” he pauses, an inkling regarding how to get rid of his uneasiness plaguing his mind. “Then I made you apologize and you did. You did it so sweetly that I made you come so many times until you lost count,” he alters the memory, concluding the reminder finding the aftertaste rapidly increasing, transmitting down to his heart, burdening it with a heavy load that he doesn’t know the contents of. 

“Can you show me what you did? I think I might remember better if you do.” 

He almost sinks to his knees, but the resistance, the coppery aftertaste in his mouth immobilizes him, keeps him glued on his spot and his hands begin to tremble. An image of Yoongi blazes in the back of his mind and, fleetingly, Jungkook sees a swift movement, a memory of getting hit. If his hyung is in as bad a mental state as he is, it’s inevitable that history will repeat itself. You haven’t received his blessing. Neither has he. 

But at this very moment, he thinks knuckles to his cheek will simulate the act of a kiss. 

Secrets are secrets and he’s weak.

Awfully, awfully weak. 

“Is this what you want me to do?” he asks, looking you dead in the eye, lifting his chin, hoping you see his frailty—hoping you see that he’s hanging by the thread. “Finger you in this dressing room until you ruin that pretty dress?” 

A smile. “Well, you didn’t get me a dildo, so your fingers will have to do.” 

A sharp inhale of breath. “What about this cock, huh? You don’t want it?” 

You drag a finger along his jean-clad length, barely touching him. Jungkook twitches all over. 

“It’s too big for me, you know I can’t take it.” 

A deep chuckle. He’ll ruin his jeans himself. “If my mind serves me well, you’ve always taken it well. Came around it a lot of times.” 

You whine. This, this is your breaking point and all of Jungkook’s muscles tighten at the recognition. He’s gonna give it to you. Say fuck it to it all—his life was damned the moment he set his eyes on you. Knew he was going to die prematurely. Thinks dying in Yoongi’s hands is quite merciful. It’s his best friend after all. 

“Please, Jungkook, I—”

He grabs your waist, tightly. His thumbs touch and his stomach drops. “You what?” He’s going to make you say it, he doesn’t care. He needs it. He craves it. 

A mewl, one that coils around his length. “I’m so wet. I need you. Please, do something. Anything. Let’s get out of here.” 

He turns you around and because you didn’t expect it, you gasp—loudly. Angels must be by his side, for your sounds get instantly swallowed by the blasting music. You can be as loud as you want, as he wants and he makes a mental note to remind you that when the time asks for it. 

His fingers gather the flimsy fabric, bunching it at your waist. In the sharp light, shining down at you most perfectly, he has a splendid view of your drenched thighs and swollen clit. He presses you against him, needs you to feel how hard you made him, how rock solid his cock is at the sight of your mouth-watering filthiness. He needs you in his mouth, he needs you. 

“Where?” Jungkook asks, staring you down in the mirror, brows furrowed, head tipped to yours, lips in a tight line, parting with every hardened exhale. “Where do you need me? Show me.” 

You moan, ever so softly and he can’t help but grind against your ass, fingertips making dents in the flesh of your waist. You take your hand and drift it down to your sweet little cunt and Jungkook holds his breath. You rub your center, your adorable lips wrapping around your small fingers and you show him the thick sheen of your arousal, glistening in the light. Just like you did the first time he set his eyes on you, even though the paradisiacal sight wasn’t meant for him. 

Now it is—and he’s nearly about to weep in joy. Such spiritual experience, swathed with gratitude and mercy, healing him through and through. This is for him. You’re willingly giving it to him. He never thought he was ever deserving of it, but now in your hands, at your service, it feels too good to be true. His eyes wet, his arousal taking a new form, becoming something bigger, more profound, something that will change him, cling to him for the rest of his life. 

“Here. I want your fingers.” 

He takes your palm in his, planning something with it. “Just my fingers?” 

You lean your head back against his chest. “All of you, please, please.” 

At your service. 

Jungkook wraps his lips around your fingers, sucking your dew, swallowing it, needing more. You grow more desperate, watching him in the mirror, and your little index finger grazes his lip ring, smiling sweetly, pleased with yourself. He coos at the sight, but then you turn around, pressing yourself against him, your cunt against his thigh, his cock against your tummy, and you grab the back of his neck and pull him in, harshly, for a kiss. 

You eat his mouth. He’s barely able to reciprocate your hungry kisses, the roll of your tongue, your moans at your own taste and he decides he will simply slow you down. 

Reaching behind you, his fingers tease your entrance. In response, you lift your ass for him, arching your spine as much as you can. He knows that if he were to pull away, he’d see your juices in the mirror, in the stark light, but your starvation and your craving tastes too good and he physically can’t. 

Gathering your slick, he drags his fingers past your parted lips towards your clit and you swirl your hips for him, outrunning him—making the tip of his digit give you the circles you want. He groans into your mouth, out of breath and it isn’t until he rubs your bud rapidly, with deep pressure, and you moan so loud that it alerts him enough to pull away. 

The music did not, in fact, swallow that sound. 

Jungkook clamps your mouth shut.

Without stopping his movement. Watches your eyes roll back. And he’s greedy, unfortunately so. 

Turning you around, he props your leg on the bench and he looks at your pretty cunt. Swollen red clit, like your feigned tattoos, parted lips, dripping hole and equally soaked folds, glistening in the direct light. He swears, can’t help it, fondling your femininity, all four of his fingers gliding with ease, back and forth, everywhere. Down to your other hole, to your inner thighs, back up to your seashell, to your mound and lower tummy. He cakes you with your arousal, one he’s the creator of, bunching your dress higher until he’s holding you right underneath your breasts that spill over his forearm. So full and perky—he’s unhinged. Utterly, utterly unhinged. 

He wants to smear your slick over those clothed nipples as well. 

Fuck. 

Jungkook rubs your clit again, with the same speed as before. Your eyes lid, but keep the eye contact in the mirror, ravaging him through and through. He submits to it, even though he has the upper hand, even though he has the capability to make those eyes go cross. And they do—when he sinks his fingers inside of you, middle and ring, stuffing you full. Your walls suck him in so hard that he almost loses his footing, squeezing you so hard against him that he’s sure he will leave bruises on your tender skin. He silently promises he will kiss them later. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He lifts your leg, hoists it up in the air and begins to fuck you speedily, fingers curling in your spot every once in a while. He doesn’t want to make you come fast, but then time is pressing against him and he knows the mall will be closing soon. He still has to fill that belly. Would prefer if you came around his cock. “My fingers fucking your needy little princess parts, hm?” 

You moan his name and Jungkook shushes you in your ear, rewarding you regardless by abusing your clit with circles, alternating between those and swiftly fucking you in your tight hole. 

“I’m gonna come, Jungkook, I’m gonna come.” 

He withdraws his fingers. All of them—even those wrapped around your leg. You sway on your feet, heady, panting, and he stabilizes you with a hand on your arm. He smirks at you in the mirror, fingers in his mouth and you give him a dirty look. 

Before you can tell him off, he explains himself. “You’re coming around my cock, I don’t give a fuck, sweetheart.” 

His words wipe your face off of that scowl and you smile at him. A sunshine personified. Jungkook chuckles, pushing you against the mirror with his hand on your sternum and getting on his knees. 

He places your leg on his shoulder. “Hold your dress for me.” 

You listen right away, ever so eager. One hand clutches the hem, the other sneaks to his hair. Jungkook likes it so much that he doesn’t waste a second and envelops his mouth around your little clit. 

Just briefly. He has your dew to drink. 

He swipes his tongue along your slit. Over and over, until his sweat drips in pearls down his temples and he makes new bruises on the sides of your hips. Even goes one step further and fucks you with his tongue, letting out short little breaths and soft moans against you, gone feral by your taste and your fleshiness. He takes your lips in his mouth, plays with them with his tongue. Pulls away, stares lovingly at them and spits on your clit, sucking it inside his mouth and rubbing his face in your dripping juices, licking up everything you’re giving to him. 

And when your knee gives out, he catches you in time, standing to his feet. Doesn’t kiss you. Is selfish. Wants your taste perpetually on his tongue. Your eyes sink to his wet chin and you lick your lips, a feral look on your own gracing your features. You resemble a horny little animal, one that he craves to own and make his. But he can’t burden his heart with that thought. Doesn’t have the strength for it, not when he’s still hanging by the thread. 

“How do you want my cock?” he asks, his own eyes lidded, darkness consuming him. “Like this or from behind? You decide. I’m giving it to you. It’s yours.” 

You’re left speechless. He taps your cheek, gently, to make you talk. If you don’t, it will be his ruination and he will die. At your Pikachu-clad feet. A sweet, sweet death. Ideal. 

“I—I can’t take it from behind.” A deer in the headlights, terribly cute. 

He chuckles, caressing your hair. “But you have.” He grins, but it’s an answer for him. He’ll take you from behind in the safe confines of your home. “Like this, then. It’s more than perfect, sweetheart.” He kisses you, deeply, but he doesn’t give you his tongue. His heart expands, his affection crawling all around the kiss. He wonders if you can feel it. 

Pulling away, he unbuttons his pants and takes out his length. He’s soaked his underwear, but he doesn’t mind. His arousal drips down and he rubs it along his tip to make it as painless for you as he can when he enters you. 

And once he does, your eyes roll back and you break into whines, ones that fuck with his brain. Your leg is wrapped around his torso, but he joins the other one, holding you by your splendid little cheeks. Like his fingers, you suck him in, even though he hasn’t given you all of it yet. He’s already losing it. Doesn’t know what’s going to happen to him once he’s balls deep. He won’t last. He physically can’t. 

Jungkook bites your lower lip, sucking it into his mouth. “You want all of it?” 

You tug at his hair. “Yes, all of you.” 

At your fucking service. 

He sinks deeper into you, hissing, furrowing his brows, sweat dripping down every perimeter of his body. Your mouth latches onto his neck and he’s gone. Even more so, when you graze your teeth upon his skin before you suck it—like he sucked your lip. He fucks you hard for it, making you let go of his neck and moan against the column. It pleases him so much that he does it again, a warm pressure coiling in his lower belly. It creates a cacophonous sound, your body colliding into the mirror and it mingles, beautifully, with the music playing. As well as the squeaky noises of your slick gliding along his cock every time he draws out. 

“Who do you belong to tonight, huh?” Jungkook rasps, filling you balls-deep just like you wanted, driving into you slowly until his pelvis kisses yours. “You can be as loud as you want, sweetheart. Nobody’s gonna hear you but me.” 

Rapid, whiny moans. He mimics their speed while maintaining eye contact with you and he groans when your eyes go unfocused, mouth parted. You’re just as gone as him. He pecks you for it, so terribly pleased. His orgasm inches closer, enveloping him with even deeper, thicker darkness. 

“To you, Daddy,” you cry out and because you called him by the title, he maneuvers you. Hoists you higher on his cock, with your legs now dangling from his forearms. And like this, he drags you up and down his length, his own moans breaking at the feeling of you tightening around him. He’s gonna come now and it’s your fault. 

“No, sweetheart, you can’t call me that when we’re here,” he scolds, shaking his head, brushing his lips against yours. “I can’t ruin you the way I’d like. They’d kick us out.” He kisses you, slowing down his tempo, stalling his orgasm. “Now apologize or you’re not coming.” 

“I’m so sorry. I won’t call you that in—in public.” 

A rewarding kiss to your neck. A hard stroke. One that blankets his vision with colorful stars. “Good girl,” he praises, looks down at you and kisses you without breaking the stare. “Now you need to be the best girl and come around my cock. I can’t fill you up—you didn’t wear your panties. I’d ruin your leggings for everyone to see.” You cry out again, the idea dizzying your mind as much as his and you tug at his hair, scratching your fingernails down his neck, touching him all over. “Can you do that for me? Can you come for me and not make a mess like the last time, hm?” 

He pounds into you, the strokes so hard that the sound of skin slapping turns disturbing and he holds his orgasm for your sake, all of his muscles clenched, stars dancing across his vision, pecking your features. And that’s it for you. 

You come so hard around him—and you are the bestest girl in the world because you manage to keep your eyes on him throughout the entirety of the wave of your orgasm washing over you, licking up at your body. Mouth parted, his name slipping past, a deep tinge of red, deeper than your dress, flushing your cheeks, eyes dazed, so gone, so fucked out, dark and alluring, so akin to his.

His bestest girl. His sweetheart. 

He needs to pull away. He needs to come. 

“Sweetheart, I know you’re tired but I need you to take off your dress and get on your knees.” 

You do it so quickly, without talking back, that even his own flush finds its way to his cheeks, his heart growing even larger and hotter, winged fuckers zapping his stomach. He fucks his fist in your face, loving the way you’re watching what he’s doing for a little while with a lingering hunger before you flick your eyes to his, beckoning his orgasm out of him. 

“Good girl,” he whispers, muscles straining, movement quickening. White clothes the colorful stars, the warmth in his stomach on the very brink of exploding. “Open your mouth.” 

And he paints your mouth in the same shade of white. You’re so good that you wrap your lips around him, sucking him softly, making popping sounds that prolong his orgasm and he grasps your hair in his fist, gently, despite the violence of his release. He’s not just giving you his cum; he’s giving you all of his affection and when you swallow and smile at him in such a kind, beautiful manner, it wets his eyes in a way that he can’t explain. 

He helps you get on your feet and you worsen his state of emotions. Like earlier, you fold into his form, hugging him skin to skin, squeezing him so hard that he stops breathing altogether. And when you begin to weep and smear his chest with your precious tears, he weeps with you. 

Never in his life before has he experienced such embrace, such love unraveling in the form of tears and quiet sobs. And he doesn’t want to absolve this again. With you, it’s perfect. And right now, he could die with the utmost certainty that you’re both crying for the same reason. 

Love unable to be real, to be fulfilled. 

He senses it. Senses it in the way he cradles your head and wipes your tears away. In the way your lips wrap around his, kissing him as if this was the very last time. You don’t have to say a word. He knows. And it’s enough. 

Jungkook dresses you. Runs his fingers through your hair in effort to fix it and make it look as nice as it did before he ruined it. And his eyes drench again when you zip him up in the meantime. No one has ever done that for him. 

The warmth in his heart heightens. He doesn’t understand how it’s possible. 

Taking your hand, purse and your dress, he leads you to check out. Pays for it. Carries the bag. Pretends you’re his; pretends his duties are nonexistent and his morals have different colors—just for this night. Doesn’t let go of your hand, even as he orders a good bowl of soup for you and himself, even as you sit down together and wait for your food. Even as you look at him deep in thought. 

“You saved me,” you unravel, a soft, tender, drowsy mien gracing your face and his heart thuds against his ribcage, gratitude surrounding it, eyes wetting again. “Thank you. And for the dress. I’ll only wear it for you.” 

The thuds halt. And it’s the only thing that does—a tear rolls down his cheek and he can’t truly believe he’s baring his feelings like that for you, in front of you. He feels as though he was dreaming and he fears he’s going to stir to awakening any moment now. 

A waiter brings your food. None of you pay him any kind of attention, though you don’t forget to say your thank you’s. 

Jungkook opens his mouth to say something, despite the fact no words rise on his tongue, but something interrupts him. 

His phone rings. 

And it’s none other than his hyung himself. 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist

[roseykat]

KINKTOBER DAY 2 - CHANGBIN

Title: These hands were made for you

PAIRING: Changbin x reader

SUMMARY: Changbin agrees for you to give him a massage to relieve some of his back pain, but isn’t prepared for the physical reaction he has to your touch. For context, the reader is part of the management team!

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won't be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with these posts so please do not engage with my work and page whatsoever. 

TAGS: hands-free orgasm, massages, swearing, hint of body worshipping if you squint.

KINK: erotic massage

KINKTOBER - MASTERLIST

Thinking Changbin was awake happened to be a mistaken thought, especially after you had been standing at the door of his hotel room for the past few minutes, knocking at it. Even calling and texting him didn’t help. In saying that, it was late and you had to give him the benefit of the doubt; he had played a show not too long ago, had been complaining of muscle pain, and was most likely really tired. 

But so were you.

Having waited over an hour at the airport trying to track some of Changbin’s lost luggage during their performance. A while after that, both of his items had been located and it was your task to return them to him. 

For a few spare seconds, you thought it would be wise to just wait until the morning since you were convinced that he was asleep. But it wasn’t until you heard some rustling and footsteps behind the door right before it opened.

“Oh,” Changbin rubs his drowsy eyes. “Sorry, I swear I was up and then I closed my eyes and drifted off.” 

It was easy to tell by his bed hair, the way that his natural curls were starting to peek through, “no it’s okay, you must be tired.”

“You have no idea,” he replies and looks at both bags of his luggage that you had been rolling with you since you got back. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! Where were they?”

He takes one off of you while you roll the other one into his room, “they were at a different luggage pick-up. But we already rang the airport to say that they were missing and then it took them an hour to track them. Anyway, did you go to see the physio in the meantime?"

About a few hours ago after the concert had finished, Changbin was complaining about how sore he was after the gym. It’s common for him to feel that way since he practically lives in that space. Only this time around, he might’ve pushed himself a bit too hard - that and during the concert. 

“Nah,” he brushes it off as the door closes behind you both. “I can’t see any of them until tomorrow.” 

“Do you think you’re injured maybe?” You ask concernedly. 

Changbin huffs, “I’m not injured! I’m only sore and my muscles hurt like hell. Plus I always warmup and cool down properly.” 

“Okay then, where are you sore?” You question again. 

“Mainly my back,” he answers and goes to sit down on the edge of the bed. 

“Upper or lower?” 

“My upper,” Changbin confirms and tilts his head, looking at you. “I didn’t realise you were so concerned about me.” 

Your eyes narrow at him, “not in the way that you might think.”

“Sure, sure,” he chuckles lightheartedly. “Anyway, if you’re going to ask me so many questions about my injury, you wouldn’t happen to be a physiotherapist right?” 

“So you are injured.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he corrects. “I'm just sore, and I need a good night's sleep.” 

“Well, if you want me to I suppose,” you say, ignoring his tone of voice. 

“Wait...” He asks in disbelief. “Really?” 

“I did a year in physio at college so I know a few things,” you answer, placing your own bag on the lowered counter where luggage is usually stored in the room. “I’m not a licensed one though.”

Changbin ponders; he has no way of getting in to see their physio at this point in time. Even just a massage would be some relief to him. 

Whilst you aren’t professional in either of those fields, you didn’t study it for nothing. You know the functions of the body and muscles inside out. You know what happens to them when they’re under stress, torn, or strained. But also the remedies which can help repair them. 

“Okay then, if you’re able to,” Changbin agrees. “Where do you want me?”

“The bed, so take your shirt off and lie on your stomach,” you instruct. 

Changbin side-eyes you, “a date would be nice first,” he says even though he’s taking his shirt off in a rush.

You roll your eyes and take a small kit out of your bag. It’s stocked with the essentials; plasters, KT tape, scissors, cold spray - usually for Minho if his shoulder is playing up - nail clippers, all of which you have just in case.

These boys are constantly on the go and are prone to getting injured. So even though it’s not your job, you still keep things handy when there aren’t any left. But also because they end up asking you anyway whenever you're around. Spontaneous massages aren’t on that list though, but there's always a first for everything.

By that point, Changbin had stripped himself of his t-shirt, placed it to his side and lay face down on the bed. There were a couple of silent seconds of you preparing what you needed but also admiring Changbin’s body. 

His back and shoulders are broad but especially taut, you’ve seen them before when he walks around the dressing room with his top half stripped of any fabric. But you’ve never seen nor felt it - not that you would in that type of way. 

In saying that, you start by taking the small tub of deep heat, unscrewing the cap, and scooping some of the product onto your hand and setting the tub aside. Your first point of contact with Changbin’s back makes him jolt. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, turning his head on the pillow.

“It’s fine. I’m gonna start now okay?” 

“Got it,” he says. 

You dollop a little bit more of the deep heat onto Changbin before spreading it and working it in until his skin absorbs it. He’s smooth to the touch. Your hands glide over every glorious muscle.

It doesn’t really sink in that you’re doing this until Changbin hums, sounding like he’s in relief. Within a few moments, he feels like his back is pressed up against a heater. His skin is hot and burning slightly, but that’s the whole purpose of the deep heat. It’s to soften the bunched muscles in his back, making it easier to knead and roll them out like dough.

However, given the state this part of his body is in, you can already make an observation on how tense his muscles are under your hands. 

“You’re tight,” you feel as he rubs into a spot just above his right shoulder blade. “When did you say was the last time you went to physio?”

Changbin’s face flushes, he can feel the heat rising to his cheeks as if you put the deep heat on his face. 

“I-I didn’t,” he responds, trying to relax. “But I haven’t been at all so far.”

You pause, “we have three physios and a sports massage therapist for a reason. You can’t tell me that you haven’t been to see one of them so far.”

“Some of the others are seeing them shortly and I didn’t wanna wait that long,” he argues. You use the thumb and the pad of your index finger to dig and narrowly drag down Changbin’s spine, making him contort to the left slightly.

“I’ve still been able to take care of myself after shows and whatnot. Ice baths and stuff like that, so I haven’t had any injuries so far," he adds.

“You don’t just take ice baths though, do you?” You ask, digging for more information to see if he really has been taking care of himself. 

“Yeah, cold showers too,” he adds to his list. 

“Heat is also good for your muscles, you know that right?”

“Not as good as cold techniques,” he says. “Right?” 

“Depends on when you need it,” You point out. “You're a gym rat. I thought you already knew all of this information about taking care of your body-"

“Ah-” 

Your hands still for a second from his reaction, “hurts?” 

Changbin nods before his eyes flash open when you press your thumb deeper into the same spot. He lets out a yelp, his arms coming up to the sides of his shoulders, getting ready to prop himself up. 

“Yeah - yes, that really hurts, fuck,” he groans. 

“If it hurts, it’s working,” you use the flat of your hand to push Changbin back down into the mattress. 

“That’s a very outdated saying,” he strains, trying to absorb the soreness before it eventually becomes bearable. 

It takes him a few moments to melt against your touch now that his back is slightly more relaxed and warmed up. He’s now more susceptible to sensitivity which for him, heightens your contact on him. He doesn’t exactly know why it feels good - strangely good. But Changbin doesn’t complain. 

“Y/N…” he breathes out involunintarily.

You freeze on the spot, wondering if your ears deceived you for a second. Surely Changbin didn’t just moan out your name. All you’re doing is unravelling knots in his back. But even so, you were curious for a split second and when curiosity takes shape, there’s nothing you can do about it. So to test your theory, you take a little bit more deep heat, rubbing it between your fingers and massaging it slowly over the area. 

Changbin’s hands grip the sheets in response. He can’t control any of his reactions to the way your hands smooth over his back, or when the heel of your palm digs and drags nicely down his back. He doesn’t even want to think about where else good he feels.

“How does it feel now?” You test. 

His response is a strange, high pitched hum, but he does give a small nod. You try not to smirk even though it’s not like he’s able to see it. 

“I’m sorry,” Changbin swallows, almost panting. “It's just...you touching me.”

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask him.

“No!” he exclaims too quickly. “I mean, only if you want to. I’m okay with it, just…tender.” 

You’re thankful that Changbin can’t see you blushing with embarrassment. You don’t know why you reacted that way but the more you massage his back, the more you forget about the moment. Changbin on the other hand begins to panic when he recognises that he’s actually horny. 

Over the minutes gone by, his cock starts slowly filling out between his legs. It’s an awkward position to be hard and lie down at the same time. Either way, nothing is stopping it from happening and certainly not your hands. The heat, the cream, your touch, the wet, sticky sounds that it’s making, makes him think things that have crossed the border of ‘appropriate’. 

“Are you okay? You seem like you’re struggling a bit,” you witness his shoulder blades start to cinch together.

“Fine,” Changbin turns his face into the pillow. “It’s sore but…it feels good.”

You look down at his hands and see him gripping the sheets again. From any physiotherapist’s point of view, Changbin might just be expressing that this hurts. That you’re really relieving the stress and tension built up in his back. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he mumbles. 

But from your point of view, you can tell that he’s actually enjoying this more than he should be. You mentally scold yourself for jumping to that conclusion, because in what world does someone get off from having their back rubbed? It might be this world because when you realise that Changbin is making small, almost unnoticeable thrusts with his hips, he can’t help but want to speak his mind.

Usually, massages, erotic ones at least, are accompanied by other forms of actions, at least that's what you thought before Changbin started to become visibly flustered

“Changbin,” you say as he takes his tone as a warning.

His eyes flash open, knowing what he’s just done, what he couldn’t help but do, “fuck. S-Sorry, I didn’t expect…”

Didn’t expect what? Changbin doesn’t even know what the rest of his unfinished question means and he obviously doesn’t know the answer. Flustered as hell, he cannot seem to rack his brain for a lie. Even if he did, you would be able to see right through it. 

“Again, it’s just someone touching me...” he mutters aloud what he's feeling.

You pause, “are you sure you don't want me to stop? If not, I’d like to get these last few knots out of your back.”

Changbin knows that this situation could go one of three ways. If he lets you continue to massage him, he will definitely cum. The bonus there is that his back will feel better and also his dick.

But if he asks you to stop, it'll be awkward as hell having to deal with the fact that he’s fully hard. The downside is that there are still knots in his back, and he won’t get to sleep, which ultimately means he'll be in a terrible mood.

The other way is that there is an unlikely small chance that he won't cum. His body might be overly excited right now, but it could pass. There's a 99% chance that he might have time to get soft. But with the way that you're both going, he knows it probably won't happen.

“I…I don’t know,” Changbin replies, clearly confused. “It’s been a while since…someone touched me-“

“That’s okay,” you dismiss his babbling. “It’s not unusual.”

He swallows, bewildered, “it’s not?”

“No,” you assure him. 

At this point, you would stop but for some...fucked up reason, you want to keep going. You really want to see how this ends. You’ve never been someone who half asses things, so how is this any different? Plus it’s technically your fault after making Changbin unintentionally horny. At least that’s the state he’s currently in to your knowledge. 

But you’re okay with that if he is. 

“Wanting contact with other human beings isn’t abnormal Binnie. You’re obviously just a bit touch-deprived.”

“T-That’s a thing?” He asks, turning his head to try and look at you. But you smooth your palm up his spine, massaging into the divots until he reaches the base of his neck so that he can relax and not focus so much on you. 

“There’s this theory that we all need human contact. Not sexually per se, but mundane things like hugs, holding hands and all that,” you start explaining. 

“I guess that makes sense,” Changbin responds, then tries to suppress a grunt when you start gliding lower to his tailbone again.

You’re working the area just under his shoulder blade which at the moment seems to be the most sensitive. That and his dick - indirectly. Changbin is too embarrassed to think about the fact that you can read him far too easily. Either that or he’s just being extremely obvious, which he is. 

“Even just social interaction at times. Studies show that there’s a link between loneliness and touch deprivation,” you add.

He can’t even believe he’s having this conversation with you. At the very most, he can’t believe that your hands are on him and making him feel certain things that are beyond his control. 

“R-Really?” Changbin jolts when you begin kneading his back again, like every cell in his body is on edge. 

“With these interactions, it can release a neurochemical in the brain called oxytocin which is responsible for good feelings…”

Neurochemical...oxytocin….Changbin appreciates the science talk and in fact, it’s strangely hot to hear it come out of your mouth. But he cannot focus on what he’s saying at all, because his dick is achingly hard and there’s nothing he can do about it.

“Fuck…” Changbin swallows harshly. “Touch me, please.”

“I believe I am touching you,” you respond coldly. 

He doesn’t even know if your words were teasing or not. He just wants to relieve the throbbing ache in his dick when all he can do is make small thrusting movements. It’s not until you use the pads of his thumbs to press into a few points in his tailbone. It feels good in terms of the pain he had in his back, but now he can’t thrust against the mattress anymore. Not yet at least. 

Changbin whines when you slowly release the pressure of his touch.

“You have a nice back,” you comment, then gently scratch down it with your fingernails, not enough to hurt him, but it definitely makes the deep heat feel hotter. 

“Oh my god m’gonna cum,” Changbin exclaims out in a choked, rushed voice. His words instantly confirm your thoughts, so you continue to slowly rub down his back to his tailbone again. “Please..."

“It’s okay, you can come,” with the heel of your palm once more, you knead just under his shoulder blade, enough to make Changbin keen to the side. 

His eyes snap shut before he’s dipped into pleasure. He goes silent for a few seconds, still making tiny movements, almost as if he were trying to fuck someone into the mattress. For him, it’s an odd sensation because his cock had been completely untouched and neglected. 

Breathing heavily, Changbin slowly opens his eyes when the realisation dawns on him. He spends the first ten seconds of his comedown trying to figure out where he is. Your soothing hands slowly and gently rubbing up his back reorients him. The heat that the cream provided is now turning into a cooling sensation, added in with your touch. It feels good, and even better now that his muscles are at ease. 

“Feel better?”

“H-Heaps,” he swallows, now feeling like someone tipped a bucket of ice water on top of his head.  

“Good,” you smile to yourself, content with that outcome. “You should probably clean yourself up then.” 

-

A/N: thank you everyone for your patience. The last half of this week was so busy for me, so I’m back writing and catching up the works x

TAGLIST: @kbitties @luneskies @mal-lunar-28 @kibs-and-bits @aaasia111 @fairy-lixie @dreamingaboutjisung @lizzekat 🩷🩷🩷 (if I’ve forgotten anyone again, please let me know 🙃)

[melrodrigo]

The Other Side Of The Door - V.C.

Vada Cavell x Fem!Reader

Summary: Vada’s been a questionable girlfriend lately, and you’ve decided you’ve had enough.

Warnings: Angst, Vada is kinda toxic in this, mentions of drinking

Word Count: 1.2k+

A/N: Inspired by TOSOTD by miss t-swizzle herself. I hope u angst monsters r happy, I don’t write angst very often. Also! Did not proofread this, sorry bout that

“Leave.” You say, face stoney and eyes narrowed. You ignore the voice inside of you that says this is a terrible idea.

Your girlfriend blinks back at you, taken aback by the venom in your voice.

Her expression changes from happy to crestfallen in a second, and it takes everything in you to not immediately take back what you’ve just said.

“What is this about?” She asks, eyes wide.

The minute your girlfriend had waltzed into your room, whistling to her favorite Juice Wrld song, she had been met with the sight of you sitting on your bed, arms crossed.

“What is this about? Are you kidding, Vada?” You seethe, too pissed to have any sort of filter anymore.

She gulps.

“How about it’s about the countless times I’ve had to drag you back home because you were drunk shitless, doing god knows what with god knows who, without any explanation whatsoever.” You’re standing up now, sizing Vada up.

“It’s about the amount of times you’ve ignored me this whole week, never answering texts, never picking up my calls. Am I even your girlfriend anymore?” You press, rambling as if everything that’s been pent up inside you for weeks stars spilling out all at once.

Your girlfriend pales as you monologue, eyes darting to lock on anything but your face.

“But-“ She opens her mouth and closes it a couple times, searching for something to say.

You cut her off quickly. Unwillingly to let her have any say in this.

“Quite frankly, I’ve had enough. So if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like you to leave.” You tell her, pretending you don’t see the way her eyes are starting to water.

She’s as still as a statue for a good minute or two, contemplating what she wants to do. You can practically see the cogs turning in her brain.

One more glare from you has her rushing out your room and downstairs. You can’t help the pang in your chest as you watch her leave. After everything, you still want her to stay.

Stupid girl and the grip she has on me.

Nothing quells your bad mood for the rest of the night. You spend dinner shooting back one word responses to your mom’s inquiries, irritable.

You tuck yourself into bed, check your phone for a message from anyone—okay, maybe you wanted to see if Vada had said anything, but nothing. You huff and pull the sheets over your body, closing your eyes shut and forcing sleep to have its way with you.

-

Somehow, in the morning, you wake up even more annoyed. Whenever you’ve had fights with Vada before, the morning after she’d be all over you; begging for forgiveness and blowing up your phone.

You’re ashamed to admit you like the attention.

Today, nothing. Not a single call or text from your normally oh so talkative girlfriend.

As the day goes on, you start feeling mournful. Regret courses deep through you. You sit and stew in your feelings until you can’t think of anything else.

Maybe I shouldn’t have said all that.

It’s a sad Sunday that’s spent with you staring at cute photographs you’d taken with her months prior, and jumping at the sound of any notification. It’s pathetic, but you need her. You don’t remember how long it’s been since you and Vada have had a day apart.

You’re stuck. You miss her so much, but your stupid pride won’t allow you to text first, or to go find her, because what would you even do? You’d been the one to apologize first too many times. This time, you decide it’s going to be up to Vada.

You sleuth around for the rest of your Sunday. When you finish dinner and storm to your room, your turmoil has turned into spite.

“If you don’t call in the next 5 minutes I swear I’m breaking up with you.” You hiss to the phone, staring intently at Vada’s profile picture, as if she’s just going to pop out of the phone by sheer will of you wanting her there.

After a minute of this, you set the phone down and take a deep breath. You turn your phone on do not disturb and pick up a book. All this drama has you feeling like you need to reconnect with nature a bit.

It’s a book Vada herself had recommended you, which was funny, since your girlfriend barely read shit. You hate to admit she has good taste. You glide through the pages easily, happy for a distraction.

Minutes turn into hours, and before long, you notice that the light is starting to dim down and the sun is starting to set. You also hear the tiny pitter-patter of rain hitting the roof.

You get up and walk to your window, face still buried in your book, and gently ease it open, hoping to find some comfort in the fresh air and smell of wet grass.

What you get is not that. A pebble, the size of your pinky comes hurling, too fast for even your reflexes to react.

It hits you smack dab in the face, making you loosen your grip on the book and dropping it. You groan, rubbing the part of your nose that stings. You hear a tiny oh shit below you and you peer out your window so fast it gives you whiplash.

The sight of Vada standing in the rain, her hair messy and her bike discarded on your tiny front yard brings out a lot of mixed emotions in you.

Finally. Goddamn, finally.

She looks sheepish as she speaks. “I’m sorry!” She squeaks. “I didn’t mean to hit you- I swear. I was just trying to do one of those huge romantic gestures where the guy gets the girls attention by throwing pebbles at her window ya know? But it ended up being kinda fun and I didn’t see you when I threw that one-“ She says, speaking so fast you can barely understand her.

When you don’t answer, it’s almost like Vada remembers what she came here for. She straightens up, wiping her palms on her loose graphic tee.

“I’m sorry. I really am. If you would hear me out, I’ll explain everything. I promise. I’m sorry for not coming to my senses earlier, and I’m sorry for not paying you enough attention. I love you, I’m in love with you; you know that. More than anything.” She yells, almost screams so you can hear her clearly.

You feel your walls crumble immediately. How were you going to deny your sweet, loving, albeit sort of confusing girlfriend of your love? It was no use. She always wins when it comes to you.

You sigh.

Vada waits patiently, shifting on her feet and shivering slightly from the cold.

You gesture for her to come in with your hand, and you have to stop yourself from laughing at the joy that sparks across her face immediately.

She sprints in, saying a quick hello to your mom- who probably heard everything, and runs up the stairs, practically tackling you onto your own bedroom floor.

She’s soaked, and you can already feel the water seeping through your own shirt, but you don’t care. Vada’s wrapped herself tight around you, like a baby koala. She’s trembling slightly, and you notice she’s crying.

You place your hand on top of her head, rubbing gently. You murmur sweet nothings into her ear.

She tilts her head up to look at you, eyes all red and puffy. She looks so pretty like this.

“I missed you so much.” She gushes.

You grin lazily, happy to have your girlfriend back in your arms.

“I missed you too, baby.”

[808airsoftbros]

Unlikely Love (Female Idols) (S) (BXG)

Author: Another written oneshot from my books. Hope you all like it and if you want to check out more of my works checkout my Masterlist

Y/N's POV

Prom is only in a week and I'm ecstatic to go with my girlfriend Solar, we've both been looking forward to this day for a long time.

She already picked out her prom dress and I picked out my tuxedo, and all I need to do is officially ask her to be my date.

Today is the day that I'm going to ask Solar to be my date for prom despite the fact that we have different social statuses.

Solar is known to be one of the school's bad girls but she has a soft side for me, and I'm basically the school's nerd and introvert.

Honestly, I never wanted to have any interaction whatsoever because I simply want to graduate high school with no involvement in trouble.

Yet here I am, holding a bouquet of flowers, reciting my lines over and over to myself in the mirror in the bathroom when nobody is present.

I know it may sound weird but I don't want to mess this up and make myself look like a fool in front of her and everyone else.

Once I feel confident enough in my ability, I exited the bathroom, I texted Solar to find out where she was but strangely she never replied and instead left me on read.

It didn't take long for the thought of her being unfaithful to come into my mind but I shrugged it off as there was no way that she'd do such a thing.

Looking around campus there was no sign of Solar anywhere, I've looked at the courtyard, cafeteria, and the usual classrooms she hangs out in, and not a single clue of her whereabouts.

However, there was one place that I didn't search... The rooftop where Solar confessed her feelings.

Going up the stairs to the rooftop, I heard loud chatter coming from outside the door, and I slightly opened the door wide enough for me to peek through.

When I got eyes on the group of students, my stomach dropped when I saw Solar in the arms of Park Jinwoo the school's most ruthless and popular guy.

"So, babe, is that degenerate nerd going to be a problem?" Jinwoo asked.

"Don't worry, baby, that idiot doesn't suspect a thing, I'm only just using him and when the time is right, I'm going to make prom a living hell for him." She answered and he smirked.

"Haha! That's my girl!" He replied.

My heart sunk and shattered into a million pieces, I wanted to cry and throw up but the shock in my mind made my body freeze in place.

After hearing them shit-talking me, I heard enough and ran down the stairs as fast as I can and balled my eyes out.

Considering that my relationship with Solar is practically over, the bell rang signaling for the first class of the day.

Grabbing my duffle bag from the locker, I go into the building where the locker rooms are located.

My mind was still stuck in those traumatizing events from earlier, and I have no idea how I'm going to get over it.

Was my love not enough for Solar? Or did it even matter to her? There were so many unanswered questions.

Pft. None of that matters anymore, with the bouquet of flowers, I place them in my bag for now and decided to just put it in a vase.

Entering the changing room, I was about to unzip my bag when I looked up and realized I've made the biggest mistake of my life.

Inside the locker rooms was a group of girls, I quickly began to panic, and I knew I needed to vacate the girl's locker room before they notice me.

Slinging my duffle bag on my shoulder, I sneakily and carefully make my leave to avoid alerting the girls who are changing.

Reaching the exit, I thought I'd be safe and away from hell until I felt a hand grip my shoulder and I froze in place.

"Where do you think you're going, naughty boy~?" I hear a female voice ask and I slowly turned around.

"Ooohhhh... Fuck..." I muttered as I'm about to die here.

Looking behind her, there were five more girls blankly staring at me, few of them don't even have their shirts on or even shorts making me gulp.

The girl dragged me back into the locker room, laid me down on the bench, and straddled onto my lap eliminating any chances of escape.

"What should we do to him, Unnie? Report him to the principal for sneaking into the girl's locker room?" A younger-looking student asked.

"No Yujin. I've got an even better idea~," Their leader said before licking her lips.

"L-Look, I-I'm sorry, okay! I wasn't paying attention to where I'm going!" I pleaded and they giggled.

"Oh naughty boy, it's far too late to apologize now... But you can still make it up to us," One of them replied.

"W-What is it?" I nervously asked and they smirked.

"Just play along and you'll find out~," Their leader whispered into my ear.

"Now shall we get acquainted? Or do you already know our names~?" She asked and I shook my head.

"Y-Your Kim Chaewon... Right? And you all are Karina, Gaeul, Yunjin, Kazuha, and Yujin," I answered and they wickedly smiled.

"Good, no need for introductions, what's your name, baby boy, ~?" Yunjin-Noona asked and I gulped.

"Chang Y/N," I answered.

"Enough talk! Let's get started already!" Chaewon-Noona demanded and they happily complied.

-------------------------------------------

(Start of Smut)

Immediately, Yunjin-Noona and Gaeul-Noona came over and stripped me of my clothes as if their lives depended on it.

They take a good look at my nine-inch rod and they licked their lips as they enjoyed the sight of their catch.

"Mmmmm~. So big~," Gaeul-Noona complimented as she grabs a hold of it.

Meanwhile, the rest of the Noonas take off their bras and panties before joining us, Chaewon-Noona being the oldest gets the first dibs.

"Now, now, ladies, you know I get the first taste~," Chaewon-Noona said and they backed off.

Getting on her knees she gives my plonker a nice long lick sending a wave of stimulation of pleasure to my brain.

Wrapping her lips around the head of my knob she slowly bobbed her head up and down and I moaned despite trying to hide it.

"Mmmm~. Such a tasty meal, alright girls, it's your turn now~," Chaewon-Noona said and the girls jumped on me.

"Y/N-Baby, are you a virgin by any chance?" Kazuha-Noona asked and I slowly nodded.

"That's perfect for us because we're about to change that in about a few moments," Karina-Noona said and I gulped.

One by one each girl gave me one hell of a blowjob and I came in their mouths, it was a miracle that I still have some left even though I blew out the most in Chaewon-Noona's mouth.

"Come on, baby, we know you still have some left and your thing still wants more based on the look of it~." Yujin-Noona pointed out.

"So who wants to go first?" Gaeul-Noona asked and Chaewon-Noona jumped onto my lap.

"Me~! I'll take your first, baby since I'm the eldest, and believe me you'll be in a world of pleasure like never before~." She said before slowly lowering herself onto my knob.

Inserting my knob into her womanhood, she loudly moaned because of my huge size and I groaned at how tight she was.

"God, you're so tight, Noona," I pointed out.

"D-Don't worry, you'll get used to it," She replied before starting to ride me.

Afterward, she started to pick up her pace to the point where she rode me like a damn bull, and Karina-Noona lowered her chest to my face forcing me to suck her milkers.

"Mmmm~. Just like that baby~," Karina-Noona moaned.

Soon after, Chaewon-Noona came, she was frantically breathing as she was exhausted, and her members assisted her off of me.

"My turn~," Yunjin-Noona said and didn't waste any time riding the daylights out of me.

Yunjin-Noona was also tight as hell but something about her body drives me crazy and it's no wonder why so many guys tried to hit on her but she rejected them all including Jinwoo.

I nearly came but I didn't want to disappoint them and despite not having much experience, I held my ground and Yunjin-Noona came.

"God, you're incredible baby, so much better than my ex," She complimented before slowly getting off of me for the other girls to have their rounds.

"Indeed, I can say the same here..." Chaewon-Noona replied.

After Yunjin finished her round with me, Gaeul-Noona straddled onto my hip and Yujin-Noona pounced on my face.

"Don't worry baby, I'll guide you~," Karina-Noona assured.

Gaeul-Noona began riding the shit out of me as Yujin-Noona lowered her pussy onto my mouth forcing me to eat her out.

"Yes, just like that~. You like it, puppy~?" Karina-Noona asked with a grin.

"Y-Yes, it's so good~!" Yujin-Noona moaned.

Soon enough, both girls came at the same time and I drink all of her juices, Yujin-Noona switched places with Gaeul-Noona and Kazuha-Noona got onto my face.

"I hope I taste just as good, baby~," Kazuha-Noona said before lowering herself.

Eating her out as Yujin-Noona fucked me like it was the last thing she'd do on this planet, and just like before they both came at the same time.

Kazuha-Noona is truly something else because she tasted sweet and spicy, afterward, it was finally Karina's turn but instead of her womanhood she lowered her chest.

"Suck my tits, baby, make them yours~," She ordered and I did what she asked.

Sucking her right tit while my hand played with her left tit, she moaned loudly as Kazuha-Noona was having her round with me.

"Ahhh~! You're so damn big~!" Kazuha-Noona moaned.

"He's so perfect~! Can we keep him, Unnie~?" Yunjin-Noona asked and she smirked.

"Well, of course, we're keeping him," Chaewon-Noona answered and she cheered.

-------------------------------------------

(End of Smut)

Catching my breath after doing all six girls, this is truly something I'm never going to forget, and I may be the luckiest man in this school.

"Did you enjoy your time with him, girls?" Chaewon-Noona asked and they nodded.

"Oh, yes we did, Unnie!" Karina-Noona answered while getting herself dressed.

"Me too!" Kazuha-Noona replied as well.

I was about to get up but Yujin-Noona stopped me in my tracks as she straddled onto my lap.

"You did amazing, baby~! Because of that, you're ours now meaning you're only allowed to have sex with us only." Yujin-Noona explained and my eyes widened.

The others girls smirked as Chaewon-Noona slowly approached me before gently grabbing a hold of my cheek and making me face her.

"And if we catch you interacting with another girl, will just simply punish you for it, now are you going to be a good boy for us~?" She asked and I nodded.

"Y-Yes, Noona..." I nervously answered and she smiled before pecking my lips.

"By the way, we noticed the tear marks on your face, did someone hurt you earlier?" Gaeul-Noona asked with concern and I suddenly remembered what happened.

"S-She..." I softly said.

"She what? It's okay, baby, you can tell us~," Kazuha-Noona assured and I sniffed.

"She cheated on me..." I finished and they clenched their fists.

"What?! Who's the bitch?!" Yunjin-Noona angrily asked and I flinched.

Thankfully, Chaewon-Noona and the others managed to calm her down before she could start a whole ass riot in the locker rooms.

"Sorry about her, baby, she can easily lose her temper sometimes. Now tell us, who was the one that broke your heart?" Karina-Noona asked and I deeply sighed.

"S-Solar..." I answered and she nodded.

"Hmph. I knew there was something fishy about her..." Gaeul-Noona commented.

The girls gathered in a group and began whispering to each other so that I can't hear, and once they were finished discussing they looked at me with evil grins.

"So baby, we've been discussing how we could cheer you up... Not that the fun we had earlier didn't help you forget about her but getting revenge." Chaewon-Noona informed me.

"H-How?" I nervously asked and she giggled.

"Glad you asked, baby boy, will be your dates to prom~," Yunjin-Noona answered and I gulped.

"Yeah, I bet Solar and her friends won't see this coming since they consider you a low-life and a nerd. Not only that, will make her jealous and we've got a special after-party event planned for her..." Kazuha-Noona explained.

"W-What is it?" I curiously asked.

"Now, now, this is a surprise just for you, so we won't spoil it, just play along and you'll find out," Chaewon-Noona answered and I nodded.

-------------------------------------------

TIMESKIP

A week passed since I started dating the school's popular girls and cheerleaders, and tonight is prom night.

The girls have already picked out their dresses, Chaewon-Noona texted me that they'll pick me up at my house.

I replied to her text to confirm I'd read her message, I get myself dressed up in my tuxedo, making sure my tie is tied correctly and making sure everything looked sharp.

Waiting for many Noonas to pick me up, I looked out the window to see a fancy limousine pulled up in front of the house.

Chaewon-Noona texted me that they'd arrived, I exited my house, and I was baffled to be this up close with a limousine.

"Are you Master Y/N?" The driver asked.

"Y-Yes," I nervously answered.

"Very good, please get inside the vehicle," The driver instructed and I nodded.

Entering the limousine, I was shocked at the luxury stuff that was in there, a small bar, a mini fridge full of drinks, and even a small tv.

"Do you like it?" Yunjin-Noona asked.

"O-Of course, how can you girls afford this?" I curiously asked and they giggled.

"Well, our family is business people, hell, we could buy more than 10 Lamborghinis if we felt like it," Gaeul-Noona answered.

The driver then starts driving out of my neighborhood and onto the main road to the hotel where the prom is being hosted.

Once we pulled up to the drop-off zone, everyone was practically staring and admiring the fancy car.

"Don't be nervous, baby, I'll hold your hand~," Chaewon-Noona assured me as she gently takes a hold of my hand.

"Yeah, will protect you if anyone dares try to harm you," Yujin-Noona said and I thanked them.

The driver comes out and opens the doors for us, we stepped out, and everyone at first was cheering until they noticed me walking with them.

"Huh? What is the nerd doing with them?"

"Did he force them to go out with him?"

"Why is that loser holding hands with Queen Chaewon?"

Quickly the girls gave daggers to the gossipers and they instantly shut their mouths, even though this may hurt their popularity they could care less about what others think.

Checking in with the receptionists, we get our table number, and we get seated at our assigned table.

"Wow, love what they did to the place," Karina-Noona complimented as she checked out the decorations.

"Yeah, this is going to be a fun night," Kazuha-Noona replied.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" I hear a familiar voice I hope to never hear again and I turned around to see my ex-girlfriend Solar and her new boyfriend Jinwoo.

"What do you want, Solar?" I asked.

"Aw, still angry about before, Y/N, yes, I knew you were peaking at us on the rooftop, I wanted to see you suffer," Solar replied with an evil smirk.

Didn't take long for our interaction to grab the attention of my Noonas, they clenched their fists in anger, I'm sure they were ready to beat the living shit out of her and Jinwoo but I figured they have something else in mind.

"Ah, so you're the bitch that our baby has mentioned," Chaewon-Noona said and she raised an eyebrow.

"Tsk. Who are you, the Queen of the Cheerleaders be doing with a degenerate trash like him?" Solar asked and she warmly smiled.

"If you're looking for trash look inside your brain," She retorted and it pissed her off.

"What did you say?" Solar coldly asked.

"I think you heard her loud and clear you whore, oh, and Jinwoo still as desperate as ever? Hooking up with this loose pussy bitch how pitiful." Yunjin-Noona said as she grinned.

"Do you want to die, bitch?!" Jinwoo angrily ask as he raised his fists.

"Uh uh, think about this Jinwoo, are you going to punch a girl in front of everyone here~?" She pointed out and he groaned out of frustration as he knew she was right.

"This isn't over..." He warned.

The two dumbfucks walked away, joining their friends, leaving the girls with victory grins on their faces.

The rest of the night was pleasant and full of enjoyment, the first event of the prom was entertainment by a magician, dancers, and artists.

Afterward, we danced the night away, I take turns with my Noonas, however, as I was slow dancing with Karina-Noona, I noticed Jinwoo approaching us with his group.

Knowing well they aren't up to no good, I contemplated whether or not I should reveal my skills that were honed down by my ancestors.

I swore to myself that I'll never get into any fights no matter what but I love these girls with my heart and I can't bear seeing them hurt.

"Sorry, Karina, but you'll have to bear with me here..." I warned her and she looked confused.

"What do you mean?" She asked and I shoved her aside away from the fighting zone.

"You're going to die tonight, loser! After I'm done with you, I'm going fuck those girls' perfect bodies in front of you and there's nothing you can do about it!" Jinwoo threatened while cracking his knuckles and I sighed.

"Come on, Jinwoo, you're smarter than this, let's not do this," I reasoned and they laughed.

"Dude do you hear this guy!? What a wimp! Come on, let's get this over with!" MJ said.

"Y/N, get out of there! You don't stand a chance against them!" Gaeul-Noona pleaded and I shook my head.

"No, Noona, I'm not going to let these guys hurt you! I'm done with these assholes running the school and it ends tonight!" I replied.

"Ohohoho, we've got a tough guy here, aye? Come on, boys, let's put this nerd into his place!" Jinwoo said as they begin to surround me.

MJ strikes first by charging toward me to tackle me to the floor but I jumped and rolled over his kick making him crash into one of the tables.

Sanha tried to punch me but I countered it by parrying his fists and giving him a reverse punch and front-kicking him in the stomach causing him to stumble back.

"Oh come on, boys! You're seriously not going to let this nerd beat you?!" Jinwoo said.

Moonbin steps up and grabbed me from behind as Eunwoo to takes advantage of my vulnerability but I elbowed Moonbins face multiple times until he lets go of me.

Eunwoo was shocked that I managed to get rid of Moonbin but that leaves him vulnerable for a second more than enough time to strike.

When Eunwoo regains his composure it was too late as I jabbed and reversed punched him in the stomach and face before butterfly-kicking him to the face and knocking him out cold.

Jinwoo being the only one left to fight was left speechless that a nerd like myself defeated all four of his toughest guys.

"What's it going to be, Jinwoo, will you stop terrorizing us? Or will we have to do things the hard way?" I asked and he deeply sighed.

"F-Fine, I promise to leave everyone alone and I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused," He gave up and I grinned.

"Wise choice, but if I find out you're bullying another student, I'll break every damn bone in your body, got it?" I sternly asked and he viciously nodded.

Dragging his friends out of the dance floor, everyone began whispering and cheering as Jinwoo and his gang has finally been humiliated.

"B-Baby, since when can you fight like that?" Chaewon-Noona asked.

"It's a long story..." I answered.

"Well, we have our entire lives for you to explain your story," Kazuha-Noona mentioned.

For the rest of the night, we had a blast on prom night as the DJ tuned up the beats, and we danced until late at night.

However, there was still one last thing to do before we can conclude the night... My Noonas dragged Solar back to the hotel room we rented.

In other words, we all fucked in front of her and her face was priceless, getting a taste of her own medicine.

She claimed that she wouldn't be fazed by it at all since she doesn't love me anymore but that attitude of hers didn't last long.

After leaving her miserable and bitter, we kicked her out of the room, and I spent the night cuddling with my girlfriends.

"Baby, what's that poking at my thigh...?" Gaeul-Noona asked.

She looked under the blanket and saw my hard rod, she smirked and the girls instantly knew what was going on.

"Looks like your friend down there wants another repeat from the locker rooms~," Yunjin-Noona pointed out and I grinned.

"Well, what are we waiting for then?" I asked and they smiled.

[cryptotheism]

What questions does a magic system have to answer, or what boxes does it need to tick, for it to be 'comprehensive'?

That's a good question! and one that could be endlessly debated. Its kinda like asking "what does a cuisine need to be considered a cuisine?" There aren't any hard and fast rules, but if someone walked up to me personally and said "I have a new magical system ready to go" I would look for a few things:

(Gonna qualify this by saying this is just off the top of my head)

Theory Side:

1 - An atomic theory - Where did the universe come from? Whats it made of? It it atoms? platonic elements? Notes of the divine song? Grains of sand pulled from the abyssal sea? A systems relationship to material reality is what grounds it.

2 - A theory of identity - What is the thing you call "you"? Is it a fragment of the divine? A sub-divinity? Ashes of the divine corpse? An infestation in creation whose goal is to one day consume the divine? A piece in a divine chess game between the light and dark? A mistake? What happens when you're born? What about when you die?

3 - A theory of magic - How does the mind effect the world? Are you reading the lyrics of creation? Making a deal with the living spirit of every proton? Plucking the web of subtle connections between things? Are you just smacking atomic rocks together? And magic is no different than making a sandwich?

Practical Side:

1 - Natural Magic - How do your spells work? Can I make a spell out of buttons and paperclips? Stuff I found around the house? I find it important that a system lets me look at ordinary objects in new ways.

2 - Language! - Incorporating magic into language, especially written text, has become a cornerstone of any good magical theory. At this point in history, you cant really have a magical system without some fun linguistic semiotics. Gimme runes.

3 - Ritual Magic - These are your Big Guns, where you start going from a magical practice and edging into religion. What do you do to wake up every day? What is commemorated? What is given importance through action? What does the system overall focus on? Does the system have a goal to be accomplished through ritual?

Stuff I just like to see:

1 - Yoga - Not literal yoga, mind you. But any sort of spiritualized exercise regimen. This can be a tough one to get right, especially given the prevalence of medical pseudoscience and the general diversity of human bodies, but incorporating the entire body into a practice can have profound effects.

2 - Modularity - People are gonna want to customize their practice. Build that in. Give people options.

3 - Anti-theism - This is that good shit. You should be able to meaningfully participate in the system while not believing in the supernatural whatsoever.

[runawaymarbles]

Would you be comfortable sharing that flow chart you mentioned in the tags about different ways Black and white people start conversations? It seemed really interesting and practical, but of course no worries at all if not! Thanks!

it wasn't about Black vs white conversation starters specifically: it's about making small talk at work without starting off with assumptions or putting them in an awkward position of having to explain something they shouldn't have to. (E.g. I do not outright ask people where they're from, what they do for work, etc.)

Context: I photograph newborns for work.

Example: Grandparents are usually good for at least three minutes of conversation, but you cannot ask about the baby's grandparents, because there's a non-zero chance that they are deceased (worse: recently deceased) or on bad terms with the baby's parents. So instead I'll say something vague like "is everybody very excited about the baby?", which gives the parents the choices of saying something like "Yes, all my friends are texting me for updates" (inference: they do not have close family; I might follow up by asking if many of their friends have children already) or "I didn't tell anybody I was pregnant" (got that once, it was fascinating, we had a good time discussing how she planned to spring it on people) and "Yes, she's the first grandbaby on the dad's side so his parents are thrilled"

The last one unlocks dialogue options like: oh do the grandparents live in town? No, they live in Nevada? I went to Reno as a kind and it blew my tiny mind. Is that where you grew up, or did they move there later?

Then they'll either say "yes that's where I grew up" and I can ask what brought them here (potentially opening such topics as: their jobs, if they say they came here for work; whether they miss sunnier weather, and so forth) or they can say "no, I grew up in Scranton but my parents retired to Vegas" or just "they moved later" and not mention where they grew up, if that's not information they feel like sharing. Then I can ask if their parents are enjoying wherever they've moved to, possibly fall back on some vague and unoffensive personal anecdote about said place, or go on to my next pre-programmed question* without anyone feeling awkward about it.

Some people are happy to tell me about how they grew up in Ethiopia and where their family is living now and how they came to the US to study microbiology and whether or not they like it here and if they'll be getting the baby dual citizenship and so on and so forth: some people do not, and this usually lets me skip around that without sticking my foot in it. (I'm pretty sure a lot of people don't want to say that they're Russian, for example, which makes me sad.)

The TL;DR is that I try to ask vague/open-ended questions that people can narrow down themselves, if they choose to, or make sure that a question is sort of an either/or so that they don't feel like there's a wrong answer. And I try not to assume anything about them whatsoever: sure, 99% of my clients with Indian names and Indian accents are in fact from India, but once in a while they're not. *"Do you guys have any pets? if yes: Do you think your pet knew you were pregnant?" [Most people think their dogs noticed the pregnancy, and some suspect their dog was the first one to notice they were in labor. It's fascinating. Alternately they say "no my cat's an idiot," and I can tell them about the time my aunt's cat stuck his face in a candle twice, and so forth.]

[bbykento]

I’ll make it up to you - gojo x gn! reader

wc. 1.1k | NOT proofread

contents! angst to fluff, comfort, gojo calls you clingy, neglect, cute nicknames, he does everything to make your anger gone, crying, overthinking, negative thoughts, praise.

you missed gojo so bad.

right now, you were just watching a movie or whatever you could do to occupy yourself. while gojo is out there hanging out with his friends, it’s been awhile since they’ve seen each other. you thought this wouldn’t change anything in your daily life.

but after a few weeks, it’s all he’s been doing. he’s always outside with his friends, barely acknowledging your presence. you get that it’s been quite awhile, but you’ve been feeling neglected.

You weren’t clingy whatsoever (maybe you were) but you missed him so bad. every damn time he came home he’d either be too tired and sleep right away or he’d play video games… with his friends again.

it was the same process all over again. you were getting tired, you were already having a rough week. you needed your boyfriend…

at the moment, it was currently 12:59 am. Where the fuck was your boyfriend?? you decided to text him, worried about his being.

You

baby, where are you? it’s 1 am already, you okay?

baby?

baby?

can you come home already? its kinda late

baby answer me

you were worried, he usually came home from their hangout by 7 pm or even earlier. though why was he taking longer? yes he’s the strongest he can take care of himself yeah yeah but it was your boyfriend. finally after a few minutes (it took 30 minutes) before he responded.

Gojo

js out w my bros dw

wow. he finally responded, in like one of the worst ways ever. he would usually reassure you sweetly that he’s okay and he’d be back quickly in 50+ messages, whenever he’d went out longer than usual. but this? its not him. it was a dry response, maybe someone took his phone?

You

when r u coming home?

baby?

Gojo

can you like stop?

stop being so clingy it’s annoying

im just hanging out w my bros

and im not gonna come home till for a little while

the reason why i hung out with them was to escape your clingy ass

so stfu for a moment

.

.

.

… what the fuck? im clingy? when im just worrying about your wellbeing?? you already had a bad day and just wanna cuddle with your boyfriend but he adds to the stress.

like the petty person you are, you take your things and leave his apartment with teary eyes. if he calls you clingy, might as well distance yourself from him. nobody to wake him up, take care of his drunken state, cook him breakfast, and all that.

….

a week passes by and not a single sign from him. he didn’t bother to text you, call you, go to your apartment, whatsoever. you guys don’t usually fight, and when you do it doesn’t last this long. he would always be to go to you first and apologize.

you were overthinking, maybe you were a burden to him? was he cheating on you? will he break up with you? negative thoughts clouded your mind as you cry your heart out and cuddle your pillow.

before suddenly, a ding comes from your door. was that finally gojo? was he here to apologize and comfort me? you fixed yourself before opening the door, the moment you opened the door it all answered your questions.

Oh. it was just a delivery man…..with a bouquet but instead it was filled with money shaped into flowers, a cute basket filled to the brim with your favorite snacks and food. Till you realize the “delivery man” had snow-white hair..

“gojo..?”

“baby..I’m sorry please? I know it’s not enough but fuck.. im sorry, im sorry…can we talk?” he looks up, finally letting you see his eyes. he looked, tired. and so did you.

“okay…” you say. you were glad he was back, you missed his touch, his face, his everything.

he gets inside and you close the door behind him. when he lands the items on a table, he suddenly hugs you.

“Baby i’m sorry I don’t know what i fucking said I didn’t mean any of that you know that right? please im sorry ill make it up to you… I just- I just..”

“Baby calm down, we’ll talk about it after you collect all your thoughts.”

he nods in agreement, before he nuzzles his head deeper into your neck taking in your scent. oh how he missed you, how bad he fucked up to the. point you guys haven’t interacted each other for a week.

“I’m sorry… I was just in a bad mood after my friends made a joke about hitting on you… I poured my anger on you, nothing was your fault. It’s all mine.. please forgive me baby I’ll do anything to make up to you..” he started to kiss your neck.

God did you want to cry again.

“don’t you know how much that hurt me?” tears started to roll down your cheeks.

“I know baby.. it’s all my fault blame it on me. I’ve been neglecting my cute and beautiful baby.. you don’t deserve it please don’t cry..” he wipes your tears and cups your face before kissing you all over your face

“Please just don’t do that ever again..” you hug him tightly. you were so happy and sad at the same time. after all those overthinking… his reassurance was what you needed the most.

“Of course, my love. please remember I don’t find you clingy or annoying, even if you were clingy I love every second of it. I love every bit of you. please don’t stop loving me like that, im an asshole fuck me. im sorry you had to deal with this asshole but this asshole loves you very much.” with every sentence, he gave a kiss on your face.

“I love how you make me breakfast everyday, the way you wake me up so sweetly, the way you text me to see how I’m doing, how you clean my clothes for me when I’m too tired, draw doodles on my chest with your fingers when im asleep, kiss me and put a blanket over me when you see me shiver, I love all of you and the things you do.” he continued.

He kisses you long and deep. you couldn’t stop the ecstatic feeling in you when he said all of those words. oh did you love him so much, and so did he.

Safe to say, you guys spent the night in each other’s arms. he spoiled you a lot the very next day, or rather for the past few weeks.

note: this would’ve been better if I havent fucking accidentally exited the draft without saving the work in progress 🫠 AAAAA

[aarafox]

On Stolitz, Desire and Misunderstandings

I’ve thought about them so much for the past few days that I just have to put my thoughts somewhere. This might be far from structured/coherent but contains everything that has been running around in my brain lately. Feel free to interact with me about this because they’re driving me insane (in a positive way).

Quick disclaimer: I’ve watched everything in nearly one sitting a few days ago and am new to the fandom, so I might be unaware of commonly known info or things the creators have said or confirmed. If you come across any of my questions that have been answered already, please forgive me for not knowing and feel free to enlighten me! Let’s begin~

 The main thing that got me thinking about this so much is Blitz’s line in ep 7 when he brings Stolas home after their failed date: “Don’t act like what we have is anything but you wanting me to fuck you, okay? You make that really clear, all the time.”

But the thing is, he is wrong. We as the viewer know this, how Stolas chokes on his food when he sees that Blitzy calls, how he lunges to pick up the phone and how his eyes turn into little hearts when he hears the question. If anything, Stolas is smitten with Blitz.

He even calls Gabriella a “mood” when she asks Alejandro why he won’t love her. It’s indisputable that he’s thinking about Blitz here.

And how much he actually likes Blitz becomes even more clear to us at the start of season 2, when they’re kids. Stolas falls in love at first sight and blushes several times.

And then, 25 years later, he is delighted to meet Blitz again. After the initial (joking?) assumption that Blitz has come here to “ravish him”, he tries to make gentle conversation and asks him how he’s been. Blitz is the one who decides to initiate sexual relations��that is, he pretends to start it, and decides to keep it up when he hears Stolas chirp about how happy he is that it’s his “first ever friend” who wants to do him. But Stolas, before this, was surprised by Blitz’s advances and unsure how to react. Stolas, if anything, has to believe that Blitz is very sexually attracted to him.

That is why Blitz’s line in episode 7 fascinates me this much; one would think the reverse of what he says is true. Stolas has no reason whatsoever to believe that Blitz ever wanted more from him than sex/the grimoire, especially with how their relations began. So it strikes me that apparently, to Blitz, it hurts him to think that Stolas wants nothing else from him. He even begins to cry there in the van as he begins to reject the prince.

See the tears in his eyes? Why is that? Is he embarrassed? Angry? Does he feel guilty for putting Stolas in a “disgraceful” picture? Is he thinking about entirely different things that happened to him in the past?

And Stolas cries when Blitz is gone, because, well, he does think of Blitz as more than a sex friend. He was so excited to be asked out by him, he made himself look pretty, tried his best to make conversation with him, thought Blitz was actually taking him on their first date ever! He thought Blitz had called him out because he wanted to spend time with him, so he did his best to make the date a success, but all he received from Blitz was, well, nothing… He even tried to end the night on a more positive note by asking Blitz to come inside for something other than sex, perhaps to drink some wine and talk about what happened (or watch a movie, or cuddle 🥺). But when he hears that his sentiment of just wanting to spend time together has never come across—not now, not ever before—and Blitz actually believes Stolas just wants to frolic, that’s when Stolas leaves it for what it is and ends up crying.

(God I feel so bad for him, my heart)

And he spends a LONG time trying to show Blitz, via his texts, that sex is not the only thing that he’s after.

But he only gets one-word responses from Blitz. Nothing, literally nothing to keep going on. It’s no wonder he loses faith in that whatever they had could ever be anything more. And Blitz probably has commitment issues or is afraid of things not working out and he ends up keeping Stolas at a distance—until it’s too late.

And it just kills me that he does care about Stolas but somehow won’t admit it, won’t show it. And yet he sounds so hurt there in that van, when he accuses Stolas of merely wanting to be his sex friend. And he actually cries. For that reason, and for many other reasons not all clearly laid out for us.

Meanwhile Stolas has been crushing on him for 25 years. It’s only natural for him to propose the deal they made: he wants Blitz to be close to him (and he assumes Blitz enjoyed sex with him that first time, since he slept there for the entire night while at first only claiming he could do it “real fast”) and Blitz wants his grimoire. This is the perfect way for Stolas to get Blitz to be with him, because, frankly, he doesn’t have many other reasons to meet up with him. So they make this deal: Stolas gets to be together with him for once a month, and Blitz gets the grimoire. Perfect right?

Except when Stolas discovers that Blitz doesn’t even begin to know how much Stolas actually cares. That’s why he keeps sending those long texts, he tries so hard to let Blitz know they could be doing anything else and he’d love that too. That night after the date he already begins with those attempts, by telling him he enjoyed spending time with Blitz and suggesting things to do inside which Blitz misunderstands for him trying to get him into his bed.

But damn, if that was all Stolas was after, he wouldn’t get so depressed that he’d drink until passing out. He is heartbroken. And somehow, for some reason, so is Blitz. The first thing he does when he gets home is opening his phone to a selfie he took of them while Stolas was asleep.

And others have pointed this out as well, but Stolas doesn’t know about this picture and that Blitz smiled while he took it. On all the pictures Stolas has of Blitz, Blitz looks like he’s not enjoying himself at all.

So what must he think when he sends Blitz his reply that he could be in the hospital for a while in case he wants to visit, and Blitz doesn’t answer?

Well, that Blitz doesn’t want to come. That he doesn’t care enough.

Indeed, if there’s anyone who hasn’t been showing his true feelings or intentions, it’s Blitz. Stolas compliments him, calls him darling and “his” Blitzy, makes himself pretty for their date, and (for instance in ep 2 of season 2) blushes big time multiple times.

He’s had it bad for Blitz for ages, but he (correctly? incorrectly?) concludes that this is not mutual. And he has every reason to think so! Blitz treats their sexy adventures as a business transaction, is all serious and stoic to Stolas about it except for the rare occasion where he does show how much he likes it, like after Stolas rescues him from the demon hunters and he grins and seduces Stolas before kissing him.

But the times when Blitz talks about them to others? Those are moments Stolas doesn’t know about and doesn’t get to see, like when Blitz talks to Striker and stutters like mad trying to explain what they are and aren’t. He never outright says that they’re not dating. He doesn’t even deny Millie’s words when she says they’re boyfriends.

(M&M totally know I’m wheezing)

It just drives me insane how Blitz isn’t honest with his feelings, especially towards Stolas. He probably chooses to believe that Stolas only wants to have sex with him, because that’s more convenient and safer for him, and enables him to keep Stolas at a distance.

Perhaps that is why he never properly responds to Stolas’s texts, never jumps to the opportunity to agree to Stolas’s indirectly asked questions or suggestions. Getting closer might be a bad idea somehow—but after those texts he has to understand what the prince’s intentions are, right? They just don’t talk about it at all; we also aren’t told whether they still do it or not, or just exchange the book like Stolas’s texts suggest. This is striking compared to season 1, where we got scenes of them in bed or talking about their next meet up.

It isn’t until Stolas’s life is in actual danger when Blitz begins to realise how much he cares.

“He can get hurt?” His eyes are trembling with disbelief. After that he finally sends Stolas a text first, and then begins typing again, and stops. I imagine he started typing a yes, but stops himself for some reason. I really hope they’ll show us what Blitz was thinking in that moment. Why would he not go to see Stolas? Because he feels guilty? Because he’s afraid he’ll start caring even more when he sees him wounded in that bed?

But again, for Stolas this just means that he doesn’t care, and the poor owl curls up and turns away from his phone.

[porcupine-girl]

Tumblr: Myth vs Fact

People have been talking a lot about Tumblr on Twitter lately (for no reason whatsoever), but that also means a lot of misinformation is going around. So if you're coming from Twitter, I would like to clear up a few misconceptions, starting with:

Myth: Tumblr is dead. It died with the Dec 2017 porn ban and now it's a ghost town.

Fact

Well, okay, yes, it did die with the Dec 2017 porn ban. Mostly. But it got better! On November 5, 2020, Destielpocalypse happened and Tumblr rose from the grave. Since then it hasn't been as busy as in, say, 2015, but it's gotten over its death and has had a steady stream of traffic ever since.

See the rest below the cut!

Myth: Tumblr is where all the drama and discourse starts.

Fact

Again, this hasn't been true in quite a while. When Tumblr died in 2017, most of the people responsible for the discourse moved to Twitter. Since then, it's been pretty chill, even after Destielpocalypse resurrected it. People like to say that Twitter is just Tumblr five years ago, and... it's pretty true right now, at least in the drama department. We'd appreciate it if you didn't try to change that.

Myth: Porn is allowed again on Tumblr!

Fact

Sadly, this is not true. However, nudity is allowed now. Just no visual depictions of explicit sex acts. Here is a pretty detailed explanation from the CEO of Automattic (the company that owns Tumblr) on why they can't bring porn back right now, even though he would like to.

Note that this only applies to visual depictions. Explicit text (yes, that means smutty fanfic) has always been allowed.

Myth: You should never add anything to a post you reblog.

Fact

Actually, one of the really cool things about Tumblr is how a post can grow and develop with every new addition! Simple Tumblr posts have turned into repositories of useful information or complex scifi world-building thanks to users collectively adding cool stuff with each reblog, or sometimes just asking relevant questions for others to answer in their reblogs.

But you don't have to add anything in order to reblog! Most people don't! And if you have something to say that doesn't really add to the post (like "Cute!") or is just for your followers, it can go in the tags.

Which brings us to a related myth:

Myth: There is a complicated system of etiquette around reblogging and tagging and if you don't follow it everyone will point and laugh.

Fact

Okay, there are some general etiquette guidelines that have developed that most people follow. Like the above, about only adding onto a post if you have something substantive to say and putting other comments in the tags. I'm sure you've seen rules like this around.

But these are flexible and nobody is going to hate you for violating them now and then. If you reblog something and forget and add "Cute!" to the post instead of in a tag, nobody is going to dogpile you. Worst case, people will click back to the reblog before yours and reblog it from there instead of reblogging yours. Or they might just reblog yours because tbh it doesn't really detract from the post. Just don't be rude, and remember that the OP and everyone who sees the post can see your tags very easily now.

The main thing is please do reblog stuff! That is the #1 way posts get new viewers (see below, most people turn the algorithm off). You don't have to add anything or even tag it; reblogging it is just a way to say "hey followers, look at this neat thing I found!"

Don't let the idea that you're not reblogging "correctly" prevent you from reblogging at all.

Myth: It's cringe to reblog old stuff, or to go through and reblog/like lots of things from someone's blog.

Fact

Posts are made for reblogging. We are all here for the reblogging. We want you to reblog. There are posts from 2012 or even older still making the rounds. If someone stumbles on my blog and reblogs a bunch of old stuff in a row, I'm just happy that they enjoyed my blog.

If OP doesn't want a post to be reblogged anymore, they now have the ability to turn reblogging off. Otherwise, reblog away.

Myth: Tumblr is the golden land of no algorithms!

Fact

Tumblr is the golden land of allowing you to avoid the algorithm if you so choose.

Most Tumblr users changed these settings years ago and have been living algorithm-free for so long they forget that when you first sign up, it does have an algorithm unless you turn it off.

Here is how to customize your viewing experience (on the app):

From your blog (the little people in the bottom right corner), hit the Settings wheel in the top right corner.

Go to General settings

Go to Dashboard preferences

The first four are all various algorithms. Best stuff first reorders your dash by algorithm - if you turn it off, it's all chronological all the time. 2-4 add extra stuff to your dash that the algorithm thinks you'll like. If you turn them off, you will ONLY see what's on the blogs you follow. (Note: if you turn off "Include followed tag posts" you can still view the tags you follow in the "Your Tags" tab at the top of your dash.)

4b - If you want to view mature stuff (nudes but also violence or anything drug/alcohol related) go to Content You See and turn it on. It's off by default. This is also where you can set tags or keywords you want hidden.

(These settings can all be found in similar places on desktop.)

Even after you do all this, if you really want to see what the algorithm has to say, just go to the For You tab. It will... probably convince you that you made the right choice in turning all of this off. Tumblr's algorithm really isn't that great, and we're fine with that.

Myth: Neil Gaiman is an active Tumblr user.

Fact

@neil-gaiman has no social media.

Myth: Supernatural is a television show that went off the air two years ago and is no longer relevant.

Fact

Welcome, you are now on the Supernatural website, where even if there wasn't a prequel series currently at this very moment airing, Supernatural will never die. Or will die and be resurrected repeatedly. It will probably creep into something on your dash eventually. Mute a few keywords if you don't want it, but brace for the occasional gif anyhow.

[chlmvqn]

-~ calls ~-

description: being in a long distance relationship with your boyfriend, minghao, has never been easy. what happens when he suddenly leaves you on read and doesn't reply to you for hours? pairing: xu minghao (the8) x reader genre: fluff warning: vocal affection from hao ; a healthy relationship ; ldr ; a very understanding relationship author's note: jun has a short appearance in this one! also, feel free to leave some requests:))

you lay on your couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. you were stressed as it is. with exams coming up, assignments piling and your bills ready to kill you, your head has been filled with negativity for a few weeks now. your mind has been packed with nothing but trouble.

and you didn't know what to do.

another thing that had been bothering you was why your boyfriend, minghao, hadn't texted you for exactly 7 hours already.

yes, you're very well aware that his schedule is pretty tight, but he could at least reply to your messages. you weren’t a clingy girlfriend or whatsoever, it just seemed unusual that he hasn't texted you back until now.

every once in a while, you would take a peek at your phone, hoping to see a pop-up notification from your lover.

but nope.

you sat up to get a snack from the kitchen. since you didn't know how to cook, you just heated up some leftovers from yesterday's meal.

your meals and routine aren't exactly healthy-- resulting in your body being so.

grabbing a plate from the drawers, you placed it on the counter and went to get some coffee. you sat on the stool, enjoying your small snack whilst scrolling through your feed.

you still couldn't help but feel uneasy knowing your lover hasn't contacted you for hours. finally having enough, you called him.

you always avoided calling him since, again, you're aware of how busy he is and how strict his university is when it comes to distractions.

minghao– or in which you call him, hao, was in another state. the both of you used to live in the same place, but ever since college, he moved out and went to his dream university. yes, it did cause some conflict between the two of you-- the both of you didn't even talk for a week and a half. Hao was aiming to be an artist, and that really inspired you to work hard, kinda. his goal was one of the hardest ones to achieve, and his determination and passion for it made you fall in love with him. so why stop him pursuing his dreams?

the ringing kept echoing in your ears, it drove you crazy.

why aren't you answering?

finally hearing a click sound, you couldn't help but arch your lips upwards.

"hao?" you call out.

"wayen? hey!" a different voice answered you.

"jun? why'd you answer minghao's phone?" you question the man on the other side of the phone.

jun was one of minghao’s most trusted friends, his best friend even. he and jun were chinese, giving them an instant click. although hao had a big circle of friends, you’ve noticed that he really was closer with jun than the rest.

you heard a laugh. "well, you see,"

.

after jun explained what happened, you couldn't help but grin from ear to ear. your heart beating very loudly, your stomach getting butterflies.

as what jun said, minghao was procrastinating, more than usual.

he tried to finish his responsibilities as soon as possible so that he could spend time with you. it seemed like minghao was missing you deeply as well.

and as soon as hao opened your messages, he passed out on the floor.

what kind of person doesn't take care of himself?

you were still on call, waiting for hao to wake up. your camera was on as it was facing you while you were reading a book.

you heard a muffled voice and a groan.

"good morning, sleepyhead." you greeted him.

"wayen?" he asked.

you gave him a hum before picking up the phone.

"how are you feeling?" i asked him with a sweet tone lacing in my voice, along with a small tilted smile.

"a bit lightheaded." he massaged his head a bit.

the both of you talked for a while and caught up with what you guys were doing recently. he really was busy, busier than you even. you don't know how he can handle all those projects by himself.

"hun," he called out.

"yeah?"

he breathed in. "sorry for not being interactive recently.” you shook your head vigorously. "dear no, don't apologize.”

you gave him a sincere smile.

"i understand that you were busy. yeah, it hurt a bit, but it's fine now!" assuring him with a hand holding up a thumb's up.

minghao gave you that rare, heartwarming smile, not until it was interrupted by a bark.

"bopul!" you called out to his dog, aka, you and hao’s baby.

a white fluffy pup immediately jumped onto hao's lap, wagging his cute tail. "hey, honey~" you cooed. receiving a bark in response.

"y'know, i sometimes think you love bopul more than me." he teased.

you shrugged. "probably."

.

the two of you talked for a few more hours, until it was time for you to go.

"hey, hun?" he stated. "before you go, i wanna tell you something."

you stopped what you were doing and listened to what he was saying. "hm?"

"please don't hesitate to call."

you were surprised at what he said.

"i wanna hear your voice from time to time y'know." a light chuckle came out from his mouth. his ears were turning as shade of red as well. hao has never been the vocal type, he’d always show his affection towards you with his actions, so hearing this from him made your stomach do flips.

"ah," you said. "are you sure? i don't really wanna call much since you're busy and stuff."

minghao raised a brow, "huh? yeah i'm busy pretty much everyday, but i still wanna spend time with you."

he paused. "texts aren't enough.

you smiled heartedly at him. "i'll be sure to call you once i get back from my lectures."

"i'll be waiting. i love you."

"i love you even more."

.

.

.

.

<3

[oozedninjas]

Toxic!Raph

Submited by:  @macsimagines 

I did like it. Thank you for sending it in! 

I only have Raph ready and about half of Leo but I hope you like this! If not its totally cool! You don’t have to share it or anything if you don’t want to.

Talk about insecure this guy has no control over his feelings whatsoever. You’re his whole world, first and foremost. He thinks you put the damn sun in the sky. But it’s going to be a cold day in hell before he lets you know that.

He doesn’t treat you bad but he doesn’t treat you good. You’re always at arms length and he’s got this funny way of treating you like he doesn’t care about you. In his head the moment you realize he loves you more than life itself is that moment you’re going to walk out on him.

If he doesn’t let it on that you’re better, that you can do better, then you won’t go and he never has to be afraid, right? Wrong. Constant fear and insecurities consume him when he’s with you.

He’s so hot and cold it gives you whiplash. One moment he acts like he could care less if you’re actually with him or not and then the next he’s acting like he’s going to die if you try to go.

“Quit yer whinin’ Y/N. I’ll get to you when I got the time, alright? Get off my back I already got the shell.” and then when he hasn’t heard from you in two days its all; “The hell you got me worryin’ for? Can’t text back? Too good to come an’ see your man is that it? Got sick and tired of the fuckin’ circus?”

Ya this asshole has got some issues. Oh and his worst fear of you leaving for something better or wising up and realizing you deserve something better? He’s never gonna let it happen.

One day you two get into an argument, Raph isn’t exactly in control of his temper but he’s very good about not coming off as too aggressive with you. But then you hit him with that “If you don’t want me, I can just leave Raphael! You don’t have to put up with me and I can go be someone else’s problem!” and WOOF! Out goes any restraint.

“The hell you mean someone else?” at first its a quiet anger. A certain calmness in his tone that sends chills down your spine. He’s standing and you’re just now realizing he’s so much bigger than you as he’s slowly stalking towards you with this numb look on his face that you can’t read and that’s so much more terrifying than if he was just screaming like he usually does.

He’s got you backed into a wall when he asks again, a little firmer “Y/N, What do you mean ’someone else’?” perfect pronunciation, his distinct accent missing, so there is no confusion in his question because he really needs to hear your answer.

Your mouth feels very dry, you’ve never been afraid with him, never ever would you treat your man like he was some kind of monster, but right now with how he has you caged in his arms and stuck between him and that wall…

“I just- if you don’t want to deal w-with me-!” “Nuh-uh, you’re the one talkin’ about someone else,” he interrupts shaking his head and his voice finally reaching borderline hysterics, “You brought up somebody fuckin’ else so what is it Y/N!? Finally had enough? Think you can up an’ go!? Just like that!?”

His hands slam against the wall on either side of your head, and you can’t help the small scream that leaves you when you hear the cement of it crack under the strength of his palms.

“Gonna be a cold day in hell when someone takes you from me! They better be fuckin’ ready t'die, Y/N! CAUSE I’LL KILL ‘EM!” And Raph will remember the sound of the table crashing against the wall more than he remembers throwing it. The image of the pieces lying jagged and broken will be more vivid than the image of it flying across the room.

When he finally sees the tears pouring out of you his rage breaks, he’s all shaky breaths and numbness in his muscles. He’s just watching you sob and cry on the floor, too shocked to even believe he snapped at you like that. His Y/N.

“M'sorry, I’m so fuckin’ sorry,” he’s going to be repeating like it’s a prayer, nothing but apologies and shaky hands trying to hold you close. Raph would never ever hurt you, but he did just make it clear, you’re not going anywhere. 

[haecien]

What about me?

-------------------------------------------------------

H.VC

Vernon x Reader

Synopsis - You have been hopelessly in love with your best friend but you decided to do the waiting game since you weren't exactly ready, but someone had beat you to his heart.

Genre: Angst, happy ending(i'm not that cruel), friends to lovers, non-idol au, SMAU (you're jeonghan's sibling but he isn't really mentioned much so i'm just going to add this here )

Warning for cursing and attempts at suicide. This is not for the faint hearted!

-------------------------------------------------------

Also please note I will have text narrations along with the pictures also this is my first time doing angst;)

What was the point of being here? This world has done nothing but give me disappointment,

....

I've always thought I would have been alone, seems I was incorrect. I have the two most amazing best friends in the world, I cherish them with all my heart. Even if it means I'd have to do endless sacrifices for them that would make me shatter my own heart.

Ouchh... That's rough. But, I can't just POSSIBLY tell her that I like him too, Haesul is special to me. Plus Vernon seems interested in her too. I have no chance whatsoever.

This hurts too much, I'm not suppose to feel like this.

Why i'm I crying? This was just simply not meant to be, and I know it.

Oh.

Now, you didn't expect for this to happen. Haha you knew it, you didn't have a chance.

Liar, Why did you do this to me? I don't feel so good. Suddenly tears filled my eyes, I couldn't contain it anymore. Why can I never have anything good? I don't miss you anymore.

This hurts too much, I want to free myself from this pain... There isn't any other way except... NO I won't do it.

But, I don't think I can continue this anymore. What about them? I don't want them to hurt because of me, that's selfish of me.

Even after all this convincing, it won't stop me.

The feeling of the rough rope wrapping around my neck felt painful, but soon this will all end. Please, please don't forget me but, don't feel sorry for me. Don't be disheartened by me.

-------------------------------------------------------

A month later:

... I'm, still here? No, why i'm I still here. This wasn't supposed to end like this. I looked around and observed the room, how? How I'm I at the hospital. You touched your neck to feel it has been scraped by the rope, but surprisingly no scars. The markings are still there though.

You heard a worried voice call out of you, to your surprise.

" Hansol? " he heard you call out to him which made him burst out into tears as he ran towards your bed to embrace you tightly, " I thought I lost you. Please never do that again, Why did you do that? "

You couldn't muster up any words to respond to his question, instead you just hugged him back. Your eyes teared up " I'm sorry, that was foolish of me to do. " he let go of you as he sat down beside you.

He tried to convince you to open up, eventually you did. " Have you ever loved me? " those words, his eyes widened at the question. Oh, how he wasn't expecting that. " You don't have to answer, I know you and Haesul are together. There was nothing between us anyways. "

" There is something between us. " hearing those words made your heart beat fast, Did I miss understood everything?

" I know what you're going to say, Me and Hae didn't work out. We both decided to split up, but we're still friends. Luckily, Jeonghan walked into your house just in time. I was worried sick you know? I've missed you every day."

" Oh hansol, I'm very sorry for everything. I really mean it, can we leave this behind us? I, I still like you a lot. "

you'd expect him to go and reject you but.

he wiped away your tears and gave you a soft smile, his smiles always made you feel at home and safe. " Deal, I can't wait to build our future together . "

-------------------------------------------------------

Surprisingly everything went smoothly after that, you got discharged from the hospital with your now boyfriend.

the months that were ahead were so happy, majority it's because you're spending it with your boyfriend... scratch boyfriend, It's fiance now.

-------------------------------------------------------

Cien rambles

I HOPE THIS IS GOOD. god this made me almost cry HEL

yeah you guys got married😊you guys have 2 babies now(cats) and its canon caus I said so

[hwalilac]

Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve

⇴ pairing: kim hongjoong x f!reader

⇴ genre: angst, right person wrong time

⇴ words: 1.9k

⇴ warnings: mentions of anxiety, fighting, some tears and a shit ton of regret

⇴ a/n: feedback is accepted and welcome, I’d love to hear your thoughts on my work! if you’d like to be on my taglist, lmk. if you’d like to see more of my work, check out my masterlist!

⇴ Part 2

This does NOT represent the real Kim Hongjoong of Ateez, and is purely a work of fiction.

⇴ tags: @hyuckilstan @star1117-archives @whatudowhennooneseesyou @jwnghyuns @az-con @noonaishere @rdiamond2727 @ja3hwa @wonwowzers @little-precious-baby

You love him. Truly, you do. There’s no one else for you in this universe. But things aren’t going so well. Ateez, Hongjoong’s music group, have had a comeback, a tour, and now another comeback. It’s been extremely tough on him and the boys, them constantly moving. Which means they’re all exhausted. Which means Hongjoong’s exhausted, especially since he bears the responsibility of being the leader.

You’ve tried to support him. But he’s either too busy, tired, or irritated to even communicate with you. That was the problem; there was no communication. You tried, you truly did. But at some point… it all got to be too much. You couldn’t handle the late nights, waiting up for him, only for him to never come home. You couldn’t handle the tired excuses and him pushing you away. And you especially couldn’t handle being alone in your bed, with no physical contact whatsoever. You haven’t had any intimacy in months.

It was like living with a robot. He woke up, left for work, came home and slept. And that’s not even accounting for the times he doesn’t come home. You don’t even know when or if he eats. He rarely talks to you, and only gives you short answers over text. Never mind phone calls, which he doesn’t even pick up.

To be quite honest, you’re still holding onto the old Hongjoong. The man who would bring you flowers everyday, cuddle you in bed, and assure you every moment of everyday that he loved you. You’re not sure where that man has gone, but everyday you hope that day will be the day he comes back to you.

It’s the week before their comeback, and everything feels tense. When Hongjoong is home, he’s locked up in his studio, while you’re forced to entertain yourself with god knows what. There’s only so many romantic dramas you can watch before there’s none left. Here you are, standing in front of the fridge, staring into space. You’re so bored it hurts, but you also don’t want to ‘boredom eat’ either.

Your thoughts on what to do are interrupted by a door opening. It’s Hongjoong, of course. You won’t lie, you’re a little surprised he’s even coming out of his studio, but you know it won’t last long. The sound of his feet padding against the polished wood floor gets louder and closer until he’s turning the corner into the kitchen. One glance at him and you can tell he’s exhausted, and stressed.

He heads for the coffee machine. It’s quite in the room, aside from the machines groaning and mechanical sounds. You finally close the fridge, deciding nothing was good enough for you in there. You’re about to turn back and head to your room, maybe take a nap or shop online, but something compelled you to stop before you can get too far. He’s right there, just talk to him.

Anxiety builds in your chest, but you fight it off for the sake of communication. Something he never does. “Hey Joong,” you start off easy, testing the waters. Part of you feels dumb for even feeling like you have to walk on eggshells around your partner. He mumbles out a small “hey”, before pouring an abundance of sugar in his cup. He drags the cup to his mouth, testing if it’s enough, and apparently it’s good enough for him.

“How’s things going? How are the boys doing?”, you gently question him. “They’re fine. Everything is fine.” Short and sweet. Well… it didn’t seem very sweet to you. You didn’t wanna push him too much, but you didn’t want to get nowhere either. You questioned once more, “Are you excited for the comeback?”, adding a little giggle to the end in hopes it’ll lighten his mood. Yet it doesn’t.

“Jesus Christ Y/n, why are you interrogating me?” His tone makes you jump a little. He drags his hand over his face, eyes rolling a little. He doesn’t think you notice, but you always do. Your heart drops at his attitude. “I’m not,” you quickly explain, “I just wanna catch up. We haven’t talked to each other in a while…”, you trail off. No matter how gentle you are with him, it doesn’t matter. His irritation continues to grow.

“Can’t you see I’m busy? Can’t you see I’m not in the mood?” He shakes his head, trying to get his point across. Your lips twist into a frown, disappointed in where this is going. It’s all about him. He’s busy, he’s stressed, he’s not in the mood. What about you, though? How are you? How was your day? It’s never about you, only about him. “You’re never in the mood,” you mumble.

No matter how softly you mumble, he manages to hear it regardless. His eyes widen, and for a split second you think he’s finally understood what you’re trying to say. What your point was; your side of the story. But that would be too good to be true. No, instead, it just made him storm off in anger, slamming his studio door behind him. You were left alone in the kitchen, tears streaming down your face.

You rush to your room before he can come back out, slamming your own door and locking it for good measure. Of course you’re gonna spend another night crying, swallowed up by your unspoken emotions. It’s unbearable at this point, something that it’s unavoidable. You need to solve this now, or it won’t be long until… No, stop thinking like that.

You push yourself up from your bed, heading to the bathroom. After wiping and cleaning away all evidence of your emotions, you take a breath and head back downstairs. You stand in front of the door, just waiting. For what? You don’t know. For things to change without having to beg and cry and be so stressed? Possibly. But one thing is for sure; you need to get a hold of your relationship.

Thankfully the door isn’t locked, so you bite the bullet and open it. The first thing you see is Hongjoong sat at his desk, headphones pulling his mind somewhere else. So, he doesn’t notice you’re standing there. You quietly close the door, before heading over to him. Once again, the anxiety builds in your chest. Yet once again, you take the lead to try to solve things. Because he won’t.

Mustering up the courage, you tap his shoulder. The feeling startles him, making him turn around. Immediately he tenses, not expecting someone to be behind him. He relaxes a little when he sees you, but not all the way. It’s not the way he used to relax when he saw you, when you rested in his arms and you could feel his breaths evening, body relaxing into your embrace. It’s just not the same.

“Can we talk?”, you ask softly. You were hoping he’d just let you say what you have to say, but instead he sighs in frustration yet again. “It’s not talking if you’re lecturing me.” His words were like a knife to your heart, stabbing you with no remorse. He can’t be serious. You’re “lecturing”, is actually you trying to help him. Unfortunately he doesn’t see it that way.

You fight off your anger, pushing through his difficult behavior. “I’m trying to help you, Joong. I want to be there for you.” Anxiety is making your chest tighten, confrontation being something that you have trouble with. You’re really trying to make him see that you’re his friend, and you’re not the bad guy. “I don’t need help, why can’t you see that?”, he shouts, getting up out of his chair. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

Finally you just let it out, rage building up inside of you. “I’ve tried every fucking day, for months, to be there for you. I’ve put up with all your emotions, you pushing me away, every day. I’ve tried to give you space, and I’ve tried to be your friend and companion.” Your voice shakes, not only with anger, but with anxiety. You’ve held this in for so long.

“I’ve loved you for so long, Hongjoong. I understand that your job isn’t easy, I understand that you have a lot of pressure on you. But I can’t do this anymore!”, you shout back. He fires back though, “Do what? Huh?” Tears are already streaking down your face. However, you continue.

“This relationship. I can’t keep sleeping alone in our bed. I can’t keep begging for your attention, and affection. You promised me you loved me, and you’re not showing it. I cry almost every night, praying things will be different. But nothing has changed. I deserve better than this. And I’m just sorry that I didn’t recognize it earlier.” You finished your speech like that.

You gave him a chance to say something, anything. But not a single word escaped him. He just stared at you, in shock. You didn’t know what was going through his mind. But since he wasn’t willing to voice his thoughts, you left. You just turned around and walked to your room. You were done. You didn’t deserve this.

You scrounged through your closet, grabbing your suitcase and a couple bags. You quickly packed everything you needed, throwing in all the essentials. You’d be back to get everything else, but not today. Not when you just got your heart ripped out of your chest. You furiously wipe the tears off your face. Once everything is packaged, you quickly drag everything down the stairs. Unfortunately you manage to make a shit ton of noise.

Before you can get out the door, Hongjoong quickly opens his door at all the commotion. “Y/n?”, he questions you. His eyes are wide, confused with all the luggage in your hands. Then it clicks for him. “Wait…,” he walks towards you. You quickly stop him in his tracks, “Don’t.” He pleads, tears filling up in his eyes. It’s the first emotion other than anger you’ve seen from him in a while.

“You don’t get to ask me to stay. You’ve had your chance. No more. I just want to move on.” He starts crying, it finally clicks that you were leaving him. You drown out his begging and desperate pleads, deciding to walk out the door. You can still hear him crying all the way down the hall, and it makes you tear up.

But you swallow the thick lump in your throat, in favor of crying later instead. You arrive at your friend’s house, Wooyoung more than willing to let you stay with him. For the rest of the night, you curl up in a ball with his fuzziest blanket and a cup of hot cocoa. You two just talk. You talk about all the feelings, letting the tears spill whenever they feel like it. It helps, and you’re able to go to sleep without sobbing into your pillow.

But you’re left with a few thoughts that night. Ones that could possibly haunt you forever.

You would’ve given him the world.

You could’ve put up with the situation for a little longer, until the comeback was over, and then talk about your feelings.

You should’ve stayed.

You should’ve…. but you didn’t. For the sake of your mental health, and happiness, you just couldn’t. But for some strange reason, you don’t think your story with Hongjoong is over.

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