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thebatdadnomad · 8 days ago

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ℕ𝕖𝕨𝕥𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕃𝕚𝕓𝕣𝕒𝕣𝕪

Pairing: Jason Todd x GN! Reader Summary: You register a hunk more nervous than a teenage boy and somehow become the reason he returns. A/N: I can be quite the homebody, but I recently went my local library so I could finally read Pride & Prejudice (I think you know why ehehehe) and I think you should go too! Unfortunately, I can't promise Jay'll be there, but I promise this fic will help you imagine what it would be like if he was ;D

It was a slow spring day when a tall guy built like a fridge walked into the library you worked at.

You lounged behind the reception desk doing your usual duties of watching the door as the man in a leather jacket, dark jeans and a grey shirt looked around. He had his hands in his pockets, surveying the area not unlike a cop would during a stakeout. That comparison wasn't unfounded too, you had a cop in here last week. This was Gotham, after all. And though this man was significantly less alert and visibly armed, it was similarly intriguing to watch.

You briefly wondered if the Cheetos some kids left behind that your co-worker was currently cleaning up had caught his eye as he slowly approached the desk. Whether this guy was worried a terrible aunt was hiding behind a shelf or a drug dealer. What else could explain why someone your age was looking around a library so suspiciously? You hoped he wasn't in trouble, or hell, that he wasn’t the trouble.

Fortunately, the closer he got, the better you could read his body language. His skittish teal eyes, him brushing back trimmed curly hair with white highlights in the front, his bulking arm and thigh muscles tensing up, his flushed face...It soon became clear that he wasn't dubious, just nervous. Which wasn't entirely uncommon either. And, you belatedly realised, unnecessarily attractive. To the point that you had to swallow a sudden warmth that bloomed in the pit of your tummy for the sake of professionalism.

Once he was in acceptable talking range, you beamed. "Welcome to Newtown Library, how may I help you?"

The man startled at the sound of your voice and you had to bite your lip to reign in a laugh when his anxious gaze landed on you and widened almost unperceivably. It was only perceivable because you grew up in Newtown, Crime Alley's neighbour area, and made a habit of noticing things like that.

He swallowed and then asked in a low voice. "I...I wanna get a library card?"

"Sure," you smoothly replied and grabbed a sheet of paper you kept nearby. "First, I need ID and proof of address."

"Oh shi— shoot," his gaze snapped back to you; he coughed then dug around for his wallet. As if censoring himself for your sake. "That necessary?" He sounded surprised by the request but didn't protest when you nodded and he gave you a student ID card and a medical card. "Do...Do these work?"

"Yup!" You grinned and handed them back a moment later. Herbert Jason Johnson. What a name. "Now, you just need to sign this form physically or digitally via our website."

"Digital is fine," he muttered, scanning the QR code you had ready and filling it out online for a bit. You took that opportunity to study him. His light warm toned skin, his slightly red cheeks and defined chest. Woah... "I'm done."

You perked up. "Nice. If you just wait here, I'll go get the library card options for you to choose from..."

But before you could move, he did. Leather jacket crinkling as he stared you dead on for the first time since he came in. "It's a'ight...I'll be happy to take whichever you choose for me."

"Really?" He grunted; your smile broadened. "Alright. Then, yeah. I'll choose one for you."

So, you walked further back into the desk area and brought them out. An octopus, some bubbles, a sunset, a cool motorcycle— oh, he might like the last one. It seemed like he might even own one himself.

"Hm," you hummed, giving it to him. "Here, it's got wheels with spikes on it."

Then something unexpected happened. He laughed. It was a strange little thing that only lasted a couple of seconds. His mouth was snarky in a way like it wasn't used to curving up and hadn't done so in a while. But his eyes weren’t. His shiny teal eyes practically glowed with honest, unsullied amusement. This, more than anything, made the warmth in the pit of your tummy grow.

"I can see that. I like it, thanks," he huffed, turning it over in his hand.

You knew you'd be thinking of him all day now. "You're welcome. Feel free to browse the library and borrow anything you want with that card. It should work right away, otherwise, let me know and I can help."

You hoped he would take the offer, but it seemed like meeting him had absorbed all of your luck. He shook his head. "Thanks, but I'll probably head out...bye."

You watched him make an exit with a sense of longing, then called after him. "Herbert, right?"

But the guy just paused in his footsteps, sent you a small, nervous smile and corrected you. "Call me Jason."

"OK!" You replied still smiling and soon the cute, extremely hot guy called Jason was no more. You hoped he wasn't like those one-hit patrons and would visit again when it was your shift.

Well, would you look at that? You did have some luck left.

Just like you had hoped, Jason came back six more times which was more than you expected. Better yet, three of those times were on the days you worked.

According to your nosy colleagues – who were more than happy to gossip about this with you – he usually browsed the library shelves as if at an exhibition of his favourite artist, dressed in clothing best suited for a street racing film. Never picking anything up or taking anything out no matter how many times your co-workers and even the patrons asked him if he needed help.

Jason kept to himself too. Stared at various book spines with a wistful gaze and made a point to avoid your eyes any time he noticed you peering over. Or, at least, that was the impression you had until one day, you caught him glancing over at you and you couldn't help but approach him to try asking yourself if he needed that help.

Jason looked like a deer in headlights when he saw you were making your way over with a wide smile which made the warmth in your tummy reappear.

"Hey!"

"Hey," he slowly replied, shoving whatever he was looking at back on the shelves and shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Are you okay?"

Jason coughed, trying to straighten himself out. "Yeah, yeah...fine."

"Hm," but it didn't seem like it. Should you not have come?

"So...what’s up?"

"Oh, nothing. I was just coming over here to ask you if you needed any help," you put a hand in front before he could deny you, hoping to convince him with a joking tone. "I know you usually just browse, but I mean, this is a library. So, we kind of assume that people are eventually gonna pick something up, not just look at them from the shelves, you know?"

But Jason seemed to take it seriously. "Oh, sorry. Am I doin’ somethin' I'm not supposed to?"

"No, no, you're fine," you quickly backtracked. "I'm just joking, you can browse all you want. But...usually, the people who always browse are either too indecisive to choose a book on their own and would perhaps benefit from some recommendations or—"

“What would ya recommend then?" He cut you off, but you could tell that instead of being impatient, he was asking out of eagerness. An eagerness that couldn't help but find endearing. Man, how could he be so cute and overwhelmingly hot at the same time?

"I…I'd have to know what kind of books you're interested in first."

"...What kinda books d’ya think I'd be into?"

You put a hand on your chin and hummed. "That's a hard question. That's like me asking you how old I look or something. But, OK. I'm always up for a challenge. Let's see..." you used this opportunity to check him out and oh my thighs—! "M-Maybe romance books or crime and mystery, no, action books?" You tried and waited for a moment on bated breath as Jason tilted his head in thought before nodding.

"Yeah...you're right."

You laughed and while he didn't laugh as well, his furrowed brows and small nervous smile were just as heart-warming.

"Are you serious? I got it right?"

"Yeah..."

"But half of those were jokes!"

"Maybe I'm a joke," Jason dryly replied.

"No!" You grinned. "I feel like you've read all the books here. Or, at least, you seem like you're familiar with them. So, maybe you should try something new? Something outside of those genres."

"Hm, well..." He looked down the row of books and sent a hesitant glance your way. "What do you like?"

That was the question, wasn't it? "Well, I guess really like hero and fantasy stories. So, I have lots of fantasy recommendations...is that alright?"

Jason shrugged. "Sure. What d’ya recommend?"

"Well, that, my friend, is gonna take me a while to answer," you joked again, acting all dramatic-like. "You sure you have the patience?"

And that finally got one of his odd chuckles out of him. "Go for it."

So, the pair of you browsed the relevant sections while you talked and talked about the different books you enjoyed. All of which he politely declined. Trying to find a fantasy book with action or romance or crime in it was a daunting task, one you didn’t have much hope for.

But then, just before you gave up hope and Jason lost his patience, you stumbled upon one of your favourites of all time. A book series full of all four subgenres that you thought would be perfect for him.

You pulled it out, beaming with a huge sigh of relief. "This is it. Take this."

"Er..." Jason flipped it around, contemplative, but you wouldn't let him turn this down too. So, you grabbed his hands and ignored how red both he and you suddenly got at the contact for the sake of him reading it.

"Trust me, don't even think. Just take this and read it. I promise you'll love it."

His eyes were slightly wider again as he stared at you, his hands, the book, and you again. Only replying when you let go. "OK...I...I trust you."

And you were happy he did because once he started that series, he couldn't put it down.

Ever since you recommended him one of your favourite books, whenever Jason visited the library, he came straight to you. To tell you what he thought before returning that novel and getting the next one.

You knew this was a temporary thing, most people didn't stay regulars for long, it was normal. So, you would appreciate this as long as you could.

The first book was brighter and energetic and it put him in a similar mood. It made him hyper – well, hyper for him – when he explained how much he enjoyed it and how ingeniously it was written.

"I just— loved the addition of a poem within a novel," Jason ranted, eyes shining with interest a few weeks after you initially checked it out for him. "It was amazing."

"I'm glad," you smiled as you locked eyes.

"...Me too," your tummy fluttered, his building familiarity and confidence around you only served to make you that much more attracted to him. Too bad he would likely stop coming at some point.

The next edition was a bit more mellow and so you had to go find him when he was putting it back two weeks later.

"Hey, you didn't come see me?"

“Oh...yeah, sorry."

Silence.

You watched him with wary eyes as he just stayed kneeling on the floor. You slowly lowered yourself too when he didn't move and only when he met your eyes with a blank gaze did you ask. Smiling as much as you could.

"How did you find it?"

Neither of you breathed until he answered.

"I...I kinda had a bad week and this book didn't help much."

"Oh," shit. "I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have—"

But he vigorously shook his head, bringing the pair of you back up to a stand when he noticed you down on the floor with him. "No. I still really liked it. It just kinda emphasised how fuc— friggin’ terrible my week was."

"Oh," you deflated a bit. That hadn't been your intention. "If you want to talk about it, I'm always here."

"…Really?"

"Yeah, of course. Contrary to what you look like, you're super sweet and I want to help you if I can."

He paused. "What do I look like?"

You had to pause, carefully considering how to put this. "Honestly...you look like someone who wouldn't come here to rant to me about some fantasy book series I recommended. Someone who spends more time drinking and partying than reading. Someone who wouldn't stop himself from swearing in front of me," you timidly touched your hair. "Like I said, you're super sweet and...I like hearing you talk."

Jason said nothing for a moment, poring over you as if trying to determine how truthful that statement was. But once he decided to believe you, you never would've expected that this shy, literary enthusiast hunk would actually tell you what was on his mind. Would even talk about a dangerous job, a complicated relationship with his family and a cooking habit.

Sure, he was very vague about it all but still. You couldn’t believe he was letting you peer into his life more than you had before. Or that you weren't the only one combusting inside when his hand accidentally brushed your waist before he left. But that day was full of surprises that almost made you forget that he would stop coming at some point. Most people did. He was no exception.

The saddest and lowest point in the series was the third book.

In contrast to the first few, Jason's reaction was starkly different from the tone of the book. In fact, he seemed relieved that it took a dive for the worst and read it through within a week this time.

"I really enjoyed the way the author used tragic flaws to tell amazing character arcs ‘n plots in a way that a lot of other stories don't. And it does it all in a cohesive fantasy setting..."

"I'm happy to hear that," you smiled.

He talked more about how the main character's struggles with identity and survival related to him, prompting you to share how they related to you too. Bonding over the book like you did last week, but differently this time. Because you were also sharing. It was mutual.

So mutual that, after you scanned the third book he brought in, Jason stole it from your hands telling you he was happy to put it back and go get the next one this time. You felt compelled to go with him to the right shelves. Intending to take it back from him at the last moment, shelve it and find him the next one in one swoop. It was your job, after all, and you wanted to spend as much time with him as you could even if he was trying to make work easier for you.

But, when the time came, Jason was reluctant to let go of the book. Too deep into his own mind and ranting to separate from it. So, with cheeks as hot as a stove, you replaced the novel with your hand and swapped them out. Handing him the book he needed a beat later.

And if you thought he blushed before...that had nothing on his face now.

Not that you were much better though.

"Are you excited to read the last one then?" You asked after a moment of quiet passed between you, your hands still loosely linked together.

"Y-Yeah," Jason quickly nodded, gaping at you with what could only be described as wonder. "I just don't know how this is gonna end exactly...but I have a sneaking suspicion that I'll like it. I'll tell you."

"Mhm! And just think, after I hear the full review, you won't have to come here and talk to me anymore, will you?"

You bet he would be happy about that. Just because you had gotten closer, didn't mean that he had become any more comfortable in the library. Your colleagues still said that outside of your conversations, he acted just as on edge as he had from the start, so you wouldn’t try to pressure him into coming back after finishing this one obligation of sorts.

Maybe libraries just weren’t for him and that was OK. Because while you'd miss him, you doubted there was anything to say to stop him from never returning. This is the digital age, people stopped visiting libraries for less. Way less.

It was best to be positive about the whole thing.

"Oh," Jason frowned, suddenly disentangling your hands and turning away so you couldn't see his face. "Yeah, you're right," he muttered before despondently leaving you by the shelf, borrowing the book on his own and literally dashing out of the library.

What the...?

No, no, there wasn't a point in pondering that. The last book...you could ask what that was when he returned with the last book. You could still leave this, whatever this was, on a good note once he was done with the last book.

You were relabelling some older editions of iconic titles when you felt a finger poking your back two days later.

"Oh!" You flinched as you finished the one you were on, then jumped once more when you recognised him as the culprit. "Jason! Hey! When did you come in?"

He seemed more anxious than usual as he bit his lip with furrowed brows. He was back far sooner than you expected, had he quit the finale midway? "Just now...since it's raining and everything, I thought I'd pop in and say hey."

It stopped raining an hour ago. "Ohhh kaaay...well, hey. What's up?" And why did he run off last time?

"Well, I just finished reading the last book of the series."

You blinked in surprise. That wasn't what you expected him to say. No, not at all. But it was a great series, you had binged it just as speedily when you first came across it. "Woah. That was quick, it usually takes you at least a week to read one."

Jason tried to shrug, but his shoulders were too rigid for it to come across flippantly. "Yeah, well, I guess I was just so into the story, I lost myself in it…it was real good."

After some light prodding, Jason started telling you his usual review, but it was detached for some reason. He was speaking more about the character he liked the most than how he resonated with the story and plots as he used to.

"I can already guess that most people probably preferred his brother, but I don't know. I just got him more. I wanted to root for ‘im. Especially after his lil redemption arc where he got all close and personal with the protagonist."

Jason kept going and you watched him with the books you had been in the process of reorganising in your hands, too distracted by the fact that this guy who you still didn't really know loved something you did to say anything else.

"I'm really glad that you enjoyed it!" You blurted out when he was done.

"Yeah, me too," he took a deep breath before turning to look at you directly. "That epilogue kinda...reminded me of us in a way, y’know?"

"Oh, yeah?" You began putting the books back, desperately ignoring the fluttering feeling in your stomach at his words. "How?"

"I mean, throughout the book, he kept explicitly and implicitly asking for help. Time and time again the MC he was in love with ended up being the one to help him until the end of the journey when they separated. And it's like what you do for me..."

"Mhm. I guess."

"But, of course…there's one difference. We've not...never…y’know?"

You choked and froze in place. Where was this going?

"But I've been thinking about what you said last time,” your eyes met his shiny teal ones. “Now that I'm done with the series and doing reviews or whatever...Unless you can recommend something else this good, I don't have any other reason to be here right now. Except," Jason studied you for a long moment as your eyebrows rose higher and higher and your face grew warmer. "You. My protagonist."

You didn't know what to say to that, except breathe. "We're in a public space."

That seemed to snap him out of it and he practically curled in on himself. Crossing his bulging arms, moving to face away from you as if browsing the shelves like before. "Y-Yeah, yeah, 'course! Sorry, I didn't mean to sound so f-fuck— friggin’ sleazy. It just came to mind—"

Suddenly, desperate to salvage this, you stopped what you were doing, took a step towards him and pressed a soft peck on his cheek before leaning away. Jason’s neck practically snapped back in your direction as he stared at you with an incredulous look on his face.

You...hadn't meant to do that, but now that you had. "It’s fine, I was just shocked…I wouldn't mind a little roleplay..." You whispered, not intending for it to sound so dirty but uncaring that it did. Was this why he left? Was he really thinking the same thing as you? Gah! You hoped so.

Jason was so cute and hot, you wanted to kiss him again. Properly this time. You wanted to be the reason he returned.

You wanted him.

Jason audibly swallowed and slowly uncrossed his arms. Asking, "You sure?" To clarify things. "Because I mean, like I said...you don' hafta."

You fully intended to reply with words, but something jolted through you again at the sight of his open arms. Prompting you to step forward to peck him on the lips this time. A shiver ran down your spine at the contact.

"No, I don't," you replied.

And that was what shut Jason up. That was what made him lean close to kiss you his way now.

It began as a series of pecks, simple pressings of lips together that made you go warm with delight. His lips were softer than you expected and he was way too gentle. But then things slowly developed into smooches that lasted longer and longer until you were melting in his arms.

Arms? Since when did he put his arms around you? They were secure as they kept you close and you pressed your chests together. As he touched your jaw and you gripped his shoulder. As your wet tongue slipped out and met his without a word, as if in sync. Hesitantly tasting each other in a way that put you out of breath because of the intimacy instead of the speed.

Jason was sweet, tasted sweet and looked sweet when you pulled back, quietly gasping with a string of saliva momentarily tying your tongues together. As if he had been holding himself back until this very moment and was only now letting you know what he thought of you.

It was as staggering as it was relatable.

His voice was unexpectedly fond as he mumbled. "I've wanted to do that for a while, but I didn’t have the balls. I...I wasn’t sure if you were interested."

That made you shake your head in amusement. How had he not noticed? "Jason, I was always interested in you. Why do you think I stop everything I'm doing to talk to you whenever you come in?"

He snorted despite how visibly embarrassed he seemed. "Because you're a good worker?"

"Please," you joked, revelling in the feeling of him tightening his big arms around you. "Even I can be selfish sometimes."

He smiled at you and you smiled back, basking in the unfamiliar but welcome lack of distance between you two. All until somebody somewhere coughed and you sprung apart. Right. You needed to get back to work.

Jason was the first to comment, rubbing the back of his neck as he sent you a weak smile. "Well...I'll let you get back to it."

"OK, but if you want to come back when we’re done that's OK too. We could go for burgers...?" You asked, grin widening at how awkward he was, even now.

"…Fuc— I mean…aw yeah."

You laughed out loud.

Fuck yeah, indeed. Because just like he was glad to know you’d always liked him, you were ecstatic to know that all that time you spent worrying about him never returning left you oblivious to the fact that you became the reason he did.

#tbdnm fic #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd x you #red hood imagine #gender neutral reader #x y/n #enchanthings

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nekomanager · 2 years ago

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.—001 𝐀𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ♡ {𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐀 𝐊𝐄𝐈}

one of TSUKISHIMA's university goals is to ruin the sassy student librarian and break all her rules; by the way, it's you

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 ⋮ f!reader, rivals to lovers, library sex, pussy eating, bantering (a repost from more than a year ago) PART ONE - TWO

University wasn’t easy especially when you also have library duties part-time and that one day with a classmate from Literature class made it even complicated.

Tsukishima Kei, a wallflower during lectures, handed you a book for return. You scanned the barcode. “Overdue, I didn’t see that from you.” He’s responsible, uptight and by-the-book. It seemed impossible.

Though you meant nothing, he didn’t feel quite right with your comment. “So what? Are you the librarian now?” He sharply replied, scanning the payment QR Code with his phone.

That just rubbed you the wrong way either. “Yes, I am.”

A smirk appeared on his face. “As far as I’m concerned,” he leaned forward over the desk and whispered mockingly, “You’re just a student assistant here.”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath of patience. With a stiff smile, you professionally reverted back, “Your business is already finish now, Tsukishima-san. You may now go. If you wish to stay, I advise that you remain quiet before I ask you to leave the hall.”

Tsukishima just shot daggers at you, pinning you with his eyes before he turned around and went his own way.

Ha! The slight victory made you grin and gave you the confidence to add another greeting his way, “See you in class, Tsukishima-san.”

See you in class, indeed. After that encounter in the library, it was as if he suddenly became active in recitation. Tsukishima constantly opposed your views every time you shared them in class. It had been weeks, no, months since it was the case. You even heard your classmate picking their sides, placing their bets on who between you and Tsukishima would win the day’s lecture.

And everytime he’d visit the library, he’d return and borrow tons of books at the same time as if he was pissing you off. You were sure as hell that he was doing it on purpose and that he’s timing it perfectly to when you were the one in the desk duty.

You rolled your eyes. Just when you were thinking of how much he annoyed the shit out of you, you saw him reading a book in one of the long tables. Guess what? He grabbed a mountain pile of books. You wouldn’t be shocked if he would place that in the returning cart any moment now since you’re the one in the clearing duty.

You leered, intentionally choosing the aisle near his table and giving him a dirty side eye as you passed by him. You knew he picked that up and just as you predicted, he placed the piles of book in the cart right when you were about to push it off. There were only 2 books in there but when Tsukishima dumped his stuff, there were like about 8 now. Looking at the call numbers, the books were even shelved in the farthest back of the hall.

Asshole! You grimaced at him and he grinned evilly at you. Begrudgingly, you headed to the very last shelf where Tsukishima got his books. You placed some of them back in until you realized that most of what he picked were too high for you to reach.

“You need help?” Tsukishima said with a smug expression as he returned a book in his hand at the top shelf only he could reach.

“What are you doing here?” You snapped.

“Returning a book. I forgot to place it in the cart.” You scoffed and he added, “You would find it hard to shelf it anyway.” His lips etched in a mocking smile as he eyed the remaining books in your cart.

Scoffing, you kicked a ladder in front you. “I was just starting.” You picked up some of the books, stepped into the third level of the ladder and shelved them. Halfway though, you felt his eyes on you. Your gaze traveled to where he was looking and you noticed that your skirt rode up, revealing your garter belt.

“Pervert,” you reprimanded him and went down the ladder.

He immediately snapped away. “Who wears that in school?” Okay, he must admit it’s not the best comeback ever.

What? It’s not like you were wearing anything scandalous. It was just a simple pencil skirt and it’s unintentional that it rode up your thighs. “That doesn’t mean you should look, asshole.”

He huffed and rebutted, “As if there’s something to look at.”“Then why are you looking?” You said, walking past him and pushing a book back in the shelf harder than you intended.

You were surprised when you were grabbed by your elbow, pulling you away from the books that fell from above you.

“Careful,” he warned. Your gazes held each other. His eyes were now filled with concern. Genuine concern. You gulped as you heard your heart beat in your chest. You would be lying if you’d say his rebuttals in class made him less sexy. In fact, it made his snarky ass more attractive.

He scanned you from head to toe. Your clothes bothered him a lot, pulling off that sexy librarian look that never failed to give him fantasies every night.

“You only wear that kind of attire every Thursday.” He chided in as if catching you. In return, you stepped backward, feeling cornered by his height and inquisition.

“Why are you here only every Thursday?” You dared as he stepped forward closing you in. Your back hit the shelf as he towered over you. His eyes studied your pretty lashes and hopeful, needy, eyes. Yours probed his orbs, now showing vulnerability near your presence, losing control over his urges.

You wanted to push him away, but you also wanted him to pull you close. With how petty you acted around each other, he might just laugh at you in complete rejection. You poor little midget was actually attracted to him all this time. You’re hopeless and horny for him, it’s pathetic.

He was equally pathetic too. He couldn’t resist his bulging cock as he saw your lacy bra underneath that long-sleeved dress shirt you wore. And that sassy mouth of yours…the things he wanted to do whenever you open them to spit another off-handed comment his way. Fuck! Just fuck!

You were both breathing heavily and you noticed the way your chest rose and fell against him. You squeezed your thighs together, feeling heat in between. It was unbearable. You needed more. You couldn’t take it anymore and so was he when he smashed his lips against yours. Your mouth opened willingly and his tongue didn’t hesitate to explore. Your hand flew to his head, lacing your fingers around his strands. His hands roamed all over your body not getting enough of you.

He bit your lower-lip, smirking against it as he had been desiring to do that ever since you got into his head. You moaned and it gave him confidence to tease you, running a hand under your skirt and lightly tracing the edge of your stockings. He caressed your thigh and you leaned your head back as his fingers began reaching your pussy.

Tsukishima groaned. “You're so inappropriate.”

You moaned in a begging tone.

He smiled, disbelieving that the smartass Y/N whom he thought hated his guts with all her life was now begging him for more and that prompted all forms of logical reasoning to leave his brain.

He picked up a book from the clearing cart and pressed it against your pussy, rubbing the hard corner against where he thought your clit was to give you pleasure. “Oh, god…” You breathed out. It felt too good. You couldn’t help but hold his wrist with both of your hands, guiding him to the right pressure and tempo as you rocked your hips, using the book for stimulation.

“I never thought you love books this much.” He teased.

You scoffed. “What can I do? Mhmn~“ You panted. “This is all you got.”

A different surge of pride came over him after that sassy remark, which made him drop the book and had him on his knees. He pulled your skirt up and your panties down, inhaling deeply as he came face to face with your sopping wet cunt. His thumb massaged your slit before hooking your leg over his shoulder and digging in to eat you out.

Come to think of it, the signages said, Strictly No Eating, but it’s too late now. He was already overcome with lust and the taste of your delicious pussy so soft against his lips and tongue. He circled against your clit while sipping your arousal. You bit the back of your hand trying to cover your noises. Tsukki pictured the big Remain Quiet library sign in his head. Yes, he’s gonna have you break all the fucking library rules. He’d make sure you’d be making all sorts of noises in a while.

“Please…please..” You heaved, leaning your head back on the shelf as you grabbed a fistful of his strands and rode his face. His glasses now misty with the heat of your pussy and his breathing. His tongue started lapping rapidly.

You were losing your mind already and you could feel your orgasm approaching. Tsukki knew that, but he wasn’t done with you yet not until he's inches deep inside you and his dick was the only thing in your mind. The perfect payback for all the sleepless nights you gave him with nothing but desires on how your pussy would fucking feel, clenching him tight.

He pulled back and you whined a complain. You should’ve known he’d do this right when you were aching and desperate for him.

Cupping your cheek, he drew your lips in for a kiss. You melt like you were pleading more of him in your arms. Feeling his erection rubbing against your stomach, you broke the kiss and looked down at his pants. Involuntarily, you licked your lips at the sight of his hard-on. “Looks like you need a hand.”

—♡ send 💦 if you want to be tagged in PART 2

⏝︶︶⏝︶ ୨୧ ︶⏝︶︶⏝

#tsukishima smut #tsukki smut #haikyuu smut #hq smut #tsukishima x reader #tsukki x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #tsukishima x you #tsukishima x y/n

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sister-lucifer · 7 months ago

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Do you want to read up on Trump’s policies? And do you want a way to educate your loved ones and community on the dangers of Trump’s second term? Here’s a little something I’m working on:

This is my forever expanding master document outlining all the issues with Trump’s policies and how they will affect everyone. Yes, everyone.

The purpose of this document is to be shared and circulated.

The purpose of this document is to reach as many people as possible.

Share it however you can. Share the link with family and friends, post the link on social media, print it out and make it into a leaflet. Speaking of printing, here’s a printable QR code for you to print and post around your town or community:

Don’t have a printer or a family member who has one you can use?

You can find one to use for free or very cheap at your local public library, or printer/copier store.

SHARE. THIS. DOCUMENT.

DO NOT JUST LIKE THIS POST. REBLOG, REPOST AND SHARE IT.

Thank you.

#election 2024 #us politics #trans rights #abortion is healthcare #feminism #education

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neodymiumcuilz · 9 days ago

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PLEASE HELP MAHMOUD ASHOUR AND HIS FAMILY FROM RAFAH - URGENT ACTION NEEDED

(scan the QR code to be taken to the fundraiser)

In Gaza, even going out to get a box of food could be a death sentence, this new "Gaza Humanitarian Foundation" does not serve to give people aid, but to move people down to the South of Gaza. This is an example of ethnic cleansing. There have been mass casualty events at these sites, where IOF forces open fire on starving Palestinians, or they will well food for ridiculous prices above the means of most people. Even a bag of flour can cost the equivalent of hundreds of dollars. This is deliberate starvation, and any help is crucial now more than ever.

Many people rely on fundraisers to buy food and other supplies that they already have to go days upon days without. Donations cannot stop or slow down, people are really in need. The situation is desperate.

"To our brothers, sisters, and loved ones, condolences, I write these words to you, and I am full of hope in your humanity and assistance. Because I am Mahmoud Ashour from Rafah, I spent my whole life working to build a decent life for me and my family, but after the occupation issued the eviction of the entire city of Rafah, we had no shelter and our lives were destroyed. Our home and store were destroyed, and our hopes and dreams were destroyed." - Mahmoud, ( @mahmoud3sblog )

He has raised 28% of his goal, please help him afford food, medical care and shelter in the insane prices and under heavy bombardment, in Gaza death is at every corner, and people need all they can get to survive. Not to mention, he has six children, all in need of support and deserving of a stable life.

If you could donate even the price of a coffee that would be great, it only takes a few seconds and a few bucks to donate. You will lose some time, while they my lose their lives. Not much is being asked of you, just donate it you can and pass the message on, help him out. Please show some hope, be a light in the darkness.

(#366) ON THE @/gazavetters LIST !!

tagging for reach:

@thejasontoddarchives @anarchafemme @sweet-honey-bunnies @lesbiansforglados @dxppercxdxver @sheepory @elb4ckfl1po @millenniumidol @heart-forge @infectiouspiss @baweiii @butchfeygela @fox-guardian @oars @wolfythewitch @technofeudalism @pizzat-i @theomenroom @unearthprisonpanopticon @sealsdaily @ashwantsafreepalestine @ubernegro @bugmatics @kingoftheironcity @checkadii @wolf-tail @thi4f @mt-travaii @redbuddi @plasticduck @risoria @mollysunder @sister-lucifer @punkeropercyjackson @immediatebreakfast @khizuo @nevert-the-guy @ahaura @chanafehs @yourpersonaltimebomb @wolstinien @neechees @ankle-beez @webdings4 @silicacid @schroedingers-mooneater @lonniemachin @dykesbat @charlott2n @watermotif @yeetsintovoid @momorikoz @determinate-negation @girlinafairytale@yugiohz @rebel-girl-queen-of-my-world @painfully-unoriginal @kropotkindersurprise @ashestoashesjc @hyenakat @patrochilles-or-bust @cometcrystal @pilgrimattinkercreek1974 @maybuds @saturniidace @roboyomo @stuckinapril @omegaversereloaded @klingerhabibi @bookskittychad @bsideheart @oldhabitsdiescrming @juggaloyaoi @averagenotnormal @womenintheirwebs @streakoflavender @socalgal @gabajoofs @2spirit-0spoons @nosferatu-library-for-palestine

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gimmethatagustd · 23 days ago

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sunday smut book club

The cute librarian at Yoongi's local library hosts an adults-only book club. As a fanfiction smut writer himself, Yoongi is intrigued.

Pairing: Librarian Namjoon x Fanfic writer Yoongi

Rating: Explicit

Genre/Trope: Strangers to lovers, smut, humor, crack

Words: 7,150

Content Warning: Yoongi writes BTS fanfic and BTS consists of only the vocal line, they're both idiots lol, super meta, somewhat difficult conversations about sexuality, anal sex, anal fingering, rimming

A/N: This is dedicated to that one time Yoongi highkey implied that he wrote queer fanfic, and to all the fanfic writers in the world doing the devil's work 🙏🏽 god bless. Also, Sunday Smut Book Club is a real thing at a bookstore near where I live. I feel like I should go one day 👀

Disclaimer: Yoong's character is on the ace spectrum. This depiction of asexuality isn't representative of all asexual people's experiences, so please keep that in mind.

୨୧┈┈┈୨୧

SUNDAY SMUT BOOK CLUB

NAMSAN PUBLIC LIBRARY

SUNDAYS AT 3:30 PM

୨୧┈┈┈୨୧

The flyer is unexpected, to say the least. No frills, yet hardly discreet, it’s a plain sheet of white paper with large bold lettering, underneath which is a tactless cartoon clipart of a half-peeled banana propped up against a plump peach.

Yoongi looks over his shoulder to quickly survey the coffee shop. Satisfied that no one is nearby, he rips off the slip of paper at the bottom of the flyer with the QR code – presumably for details about the club and how to get there.

Yongsan-gu isn’t far, and Yoongi has enjoyed visiting Namson Park, even going to the library a few times in college. It’s scenic and gorgeous in warm weather when the flowers bloom, and it’s nice enough to sit outside on the unique furniture and architectural structures. Yoongi thinks he remembers Hoseok mentioning something about attending a few creative writing workshops there as a teen.

Needless to say, it’s not the type of place Yoongi expects to host a smut book club. He’s intrigued nonetheless. How could he not be? He’s just spent the last two hours working on his newest chaptered fanfiction – if one can call staring at a blank document while trying to decide how to begin the first smut scene of a story “working”.

Yoongi thinks so, and so do his Twitter moots, thank you very much.

Folding the slip of paper, Yoongi tucks it into the pocket on the back of his phone case for safekeeping and steps out of the dimly lit cafe into the sunny spring day.

Tomorrow is Sunday. Yoongi promised himself that he would finish the newest chapter of his fic by the end of the day, but he’s wondering if now he should hold off until he joins this odd book club. Perhaps reading smutty, published novels will help Yoongi find the inspiration he needs to write the smut scene that has been giving him hell for an entire week.

The thing is, Yoongi doesn’t particularly enjoy sex. It’s a bit gross, really, if you think about it. In theory, sweaty bodies smashing together to exchange fluids and possibly love sounds attractive. Yoongi loves reading a good smut scene and has even gotten off on some – who hasn’t? But the moment he’s presented with the opportunity for real sex, he usually thinks he’d rather read about it instead.

Not having sex doesn’t bother Yoongi much, but not being interested in it certainly makes writing about it a lot more difficult.

Yoongi doesn’t bother touching his fic for the rest of the day.

Even once he’s back at his apartment, he puts his restless energy toward tidying up before Hoseok comes over. It doesn’t take long, though Yoongi can feel himself stretching it out, stalling, so he doesn’t have to think about his fic until the very last minute when Hoseok is buzzing to be let in.

“I am so pissed off,” Hoseok huffs as he stomps through the front door and kicks off his shoes.

Yoongi grabs Hoseok’s backpack before it slips off his shoulder and holds it until he hangs up his jacket. Hoseok comes with a certain energy that is typically positive, but when stormy, it can sweep through like a tornado.

Today, his complaints are whines rather than the anger he claims he has.

“What happened?” Yoongi asks, following Hoseok into the living room as though he’s the guest and not the other way around.

“Didn’t you see? Taehyung went live for five seconds. Literally five seconds while I was getting off the bus, and I missed it.”

With a roll of his eyes, Yoongi flops onto the couch while Hoseok gets comfortable sitting on pillows on the floor at the coffee table. He’s already pulling his laptop out, only pausing when he notices the Turtle Chips Yoongi put out for a snack.

“You can watch it later,” Yoongi points out, only to be hit with a chip in the middle of his forehead.

“Watching it later doesn’t feel the same!”

“He couldn’t possibly have done anything in five seconds.”

Turning around, Hoseok glares at Yoongi. “He showed his forehead. Which is best when seen live.”

Hoseok isn’t wrong, but Yoongi has tried to force himself not to obsess over consuming BTS content immediately anymore. He’s a working adult; he can barely keep up with watering his plants, let alone knowing when Kim Taehyung is live on Weverse.

Jungkook, though…

Yoongi makes time for Jungkook.

“What are you gonna work on? That Jinkook hockey AU?” Hoseok asks between chomping on chips.

With a loud sigh, Yoongi turns on the couch so he can lie down while watching over Hoseok’s shoulder at his Vmin urban fantasy slow burn. Hoseok is a fic writing machine. He’s already at 30k, and they haven’t even fucked yet.

“I never want to write fic ever again. It’s too hard,” Yoongi laments.

Hoseok leans his head back so he can look Yoongi in the eyes. He’s smiling, of course, because he thinks Yoongi is full of shit.

Yoongi is full of shit.

“You wouldn’t even know what to do with your life if you didn’t write fic. What hobby would you do instead? Hmm? Work out?”

Snorting, Yoongi flops onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. His Jinkook hockey AU barely has any hits, anyway. Maybe no one would care if he didn’t finish it.

“I wish I could ovulate.”

Hoseok coughs hard enough that Yoongi feels it in his chest.

“Excuse me? You what?”

“If I could ovulate, I’d get horny from my hormones, and then I’d be able to write this smut scene,” Yoongi explains simply.

“So you wish you were an omega. Guess what, friend. You are.”

Hoseok doesn’t even care when Yoongi smacks him in the back of the head, demanding he take the comment back. Undeterred, he cackles and types away on his fic.

“I would be an alpha. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Yoongi grumbles, primarily to himself because Hoseok has decided to take control of the Bluetooth speakers to play his favorite fic writing playlist.

Tonight, Yoongi will beta the chapter Hoseok is writing. Tomorrow, he’ll focus on forcing himself to finish the stupid smut scene.

Everything will be fine.

Yoongi is so concerned about his fic as he travels to Sunday Smut Book Club that he forgets he doesn’t even own the book they’re reading, nor has he read it. Honestly, he can barely remember what book the flyer said they’d discuss this month.

In reality, it isn’t an issue. Yoongi is sure plenty of new people have joined the club in the middle of a book. He’s a fast reader, so catching up won’t be much of an issue. Still, he feels weird walking into the meeting room on the third floor of the library empty-handed, aside from his writing journal and a pen tucked behind his ear.

Luckily, Yoongi arrives early, so there’s no one else in the room except one man sitting at a round table with a thick hardcover book and an open notebook. His dark hair falls in his face, obscuring his features, though Yoongi can tell that the man is striking just from what he can see.

As a writer, Yoongi enjoys people-watching, which allows him to create stories and imagine characters for later use. Based on the man's broad frame and how he hunches over with his forearms on the table, Yoongi thinks he must be very tall. He wears a white buttoned shirt with the sleeves folded and pushed to his elbows, exposing tan skin. When the man shifts in his seat, Yoongi catches sight of a library ID badge clipped to a belt loop of his black slacks.

Yoongi should say something. This is clearly one of the librarians and most likely the one leading the book club. Yet he can’t make a sound or move from the doorway. He should have brought Hoseok with him.

Humming to himself, the librarian thumbs at the cap of his ink pen while he reads what’s written in the notebook, flicking the pen repeatedly until the cap breaks off.

“Oh shit,” the librarian curses. The small piece of plastic flies across the room, forever lost to the dark carpet that matches its color.

Standing up, likely to go search for the broken cap, the librarian finally notices Yoongi hovering in the doorway.

“Oh shit,” he repeats, dropping the pen so it clatters on the table next to the notebook. “Sorry, do you need something?”

Put on the spot, Yoongi takes a half-step backward. The librarian looks confused, making Yoongi feel like he shouldn’t be here. Did he get the room number wrong?

“I’m here for the book club?” Yoongi squeaks out and is absolutely appalled by how his voice cracks. How embarrassing. He’s a grown man, and he can’t even say the word smut out loud to a librarian.

The librarian is gorgeous, which doesn’t help Yoongi’s sudden stage fright. His sharp eyes grow and round out in confusion, and his tan cheeks brighten with a dusty rose undertone, though Yoongi doesn’t know what he has to be embarrassed about. It was only a pen cap.

“The book club? Oh! The Sunday Smut Book Club!” The librarian claps his hands together, making Yoongi flinch. “I’m so sorry, but that book club doesn’t start until next week.”

Given how winded he feels, Yoongi might as well be the ink pen cap flung across the room. Of course, he worked himself up to come to this event and skipped out on writing his fic, only to get the date wrong.

“Well, okay,” Yoongi says slowly, avoiding the librarian’s gaze to examine the room instead. He’s not sure what to do now.

“There’s another book club in about two hours if you want to stick around. It’s about queer literature.”

“Are you leading that one?” Yoongi asks and immediately regrets how unintentionally flirtatious the question sounds when the librarian’s face turns pinker.

“I am,” the librarian confirms with a slight bow of his head, “Kim Namjoon. It’s nice to meet you…”

“Min Yoongi.

“It’s nice to meet you, Yoongi-ssi.”

Internally, Yoongi is considering how good a meet-cute fic this would be. A smut book club is creative, he supposes. It's unconventional for a public library, he figures. Meeting a hot librarian is cliche, but cliches are entertaining for a reason. If this was one of Yoongi’s Jinkook fics, he would have written Seokjin immediately laying his charm on a flustered Jungkook who keeps fiddling with his glasses and giggling at Seokjin’s stupid jokes.

It's too bad real life isn’t as charming. Instead, Yoongi sits woodenly beside Namjoon as he shows Yoongi the list of novels he’s considering for the queer book club.

“Some of them aren’t explicitly queer, but there are queer themes or perhaps are written by authors who were presumed to have been straight or in the closet,” Namjoon explains with his chin in his hand. “Sad, really. If I wrote a great novel and historians erased my queerness from it after I died, I’d haunt everyone.”

To be fair, some of the novels do look interesting. Yoongi takes a moment to scribble down the titles and authors in his journal, keenly aware of Namjoon watching him flip through pages filled with story notes before he can find a blank one.

"So, are you a writer?” When Namjoon smiles, his cheeks dimple. Yoongi feels heat creep up his neck like needle pricks.

"Umm... yes?"

"Cool! What stories do you write?"

Yoongi swallows. "I, uh, I write... a lot of different things."

“Oh, you must be a great writer to have a diverse portfolio!” Namjoon eagerly leans toward Yoongi. “What kind of things?”

Do not say fanfiction do not say fanfiction do not say fanfiction do not say–

“I write gay fanfiction!” Yoongi blurts out.

This is not how the story is supposed to go. It’s all wrong. Yoongi's face is hot, and his heart is in his throat, but worst of all, Namjoon is silent.

“I know it’s weird, and I normally don’t–”

“I love that!” Namjoon beams, his warm eyes crinkled at the corners from smiling. “What fandom do you write for?”

Do not say BTS do not say BTS do not say BTS do not say–

“Uh, BTS…”

What the fuck about this guy is making Yoongi spill all his secrets? Most of his closest friends don’t even know he writes fic.

Yoongi expects the judgment that typically comes after admitting to writing real-person fiction, but Namjoon surprises him again.

“That’s really cool,” Namjoon says with another dimpled smile. “I used to read fanfiction, though I haven’t in a long time. I spend most of my time with literature that no one is writing fanfiction about.”

“I don’t know, I’m sure there’s some super gay dead dove based on ‘The Cask of Amontillado,’” Yoongi says with a laugh.

“The MCD warning would be a terrible spoiler.”

“Bury your gays, literally.”

Namjoon barks a laugh at such a terribly accurate joke, pretending to wipe tears from his eyes. He seems well-versed in fandom culture, though Yoongi shouldn’t be surprised. Plenty of published novels can barely hold a candle to the fanfiction Yoongi has read over the years.

By the time the first member of the queer book club shows up, Yoongi has already helped Namjoon recover the password to his old AO3 account and sent him a few fics he hopes Namjoon will like. It feels good to share his hobby with someone new, even if Namjoon doesn’t know much about BTS.

“Good fiction is good fiction,” Namjoon had said simply, and it made Yoongi happy to remember that there are cool people in the world. He shouldn’t have been surprised that he’d find such a person at the library.

Most people would enjoy waking up to the love of their lives every morning. Unfortunately, Jungkook doesn’t know that Yoongi exists, so Yoongi has the second best thing to wake up to:

[AO3] Comment on hat trick beauty namu94 left the following comment on hat trick beauty : I binged this until 4 AM despite needing to get up at 7 AM. I feel like I’m dying, but it was positively worth it. The tension was so wonderfully unbearable that I chewed through my mattress. Thank you for sharing your secret with me ;)

If Namjoon chewed through his mattress after reading Yoongi’s fic, then Yoongi eats his entire mattress after reading Namjoon's comment on it. He probably rereads the comment fifteen times throughout the duration of getting ready in the morning, holding his phone in one hand while he struggles to put on his clothes and brush his teeth with the other.

Yoongi is pretty sure every AO3 writer obsesses over sweet comments; who wouldn’t?

But perhaps he’s overdoing it when he’s at work and still can’t close out of AO3, now rereading the chapter to imagine what it may have been like for Namjoon to read it for the first time.

“Getting a little Monday morning smut in?” Hoseok’s sudden presence over Yoongi’s shoulder startles him in his seat.

“What!”

Yoongi quickly exits out of the internet browser and deflates when he realizes he didn’t save his progress on the project edits he was working on for his boss.

“Don’t try to hide from me as if I’m not in the fandom trenches with you all the time,” Hoseok chastises.

Finding out that his coworker is Army was probably the coolest thing to happen in Yoongi’s professional life. Finding out that his coworker also writes fanfiction was undoubtedly the greatest thing to happen in Yoongi’s professional life – and maybe in his personal life, too.

Unfortunately, it means Hoseok is always on his case.

“I sent Namjoon ‘hat trick beauty’ after I told him I’m having a hard time with the…” Yoongi looks around the office to see if his coworkers are paying attention to him before whispering, “ Smut .”

Yoongi has managed to delay the smut in his fic and convinced himself that it was so he didn’t sacrifice the plot, rather than the truth that he just doesn’t know what to do about the scene.

It has taken Yoongi over a month to work up the courage to show Namjoon his writing, and now he clings to every piece of feedback Namjoon gives him. Part of him wonders if Namjoon is simply being nice.

However, it’s doubtful that Namjoon’s praise is a lie. His kindness seems to grow exponentially with every book club meeting– for the Queer Book Club and Sunday Smut Book Club, since Yoongi regularly attends both now on alternating weekends, not because of Namjoon, of course. Yoongi attends both because he is passionate about literature and learning smut techniques.

Of course.

“That’s a weird way to woo your librarian crush.”

“That’s, that’s not what I’m doing.” Hoseok raises his eyebrows as Yoongi sputters.

He’s not trying to woo Namjoon, right? Yoongi doesn’t even know how to woo anyone; he’s not sure he’s ever wanted to.

“Maybe it should be what you’re doing. You said writing smut would be easier if you were horny, right?”

“Hobah!” Yoongi hisses, swatting at Hoseok, who nimbly dodges each blow. “We’re at work.”

“Oh, hush. No one is paying attention to us.” Hoseok rests his butt against Yoongi’s desk and waves his hand. "As I was saying, maybe Namjoon can give you a little inspiration, if you get what I mean.”

“This is all very presumptuous. We’re talking as if Namjoon even… likes me or whatever…” Yoongi cringes, scrunching his nose.

With a loud sigh, Hoseok pushes himself off Yoongi’s desk. He claps his hand over Yoongi’s shoulder, giving him a light squeeze.

“You’re adorable. Who wouldn’t like you?”

It sounds easy when Hoseok says it, but Yoongi watches him walk to his desk with a sinking feeling in his stomach. It’s far more complicated than just two people liking each other. Other people may find a crush exciting, but it stresses Yoongi out.

With a sigh, Yoongi returns his focus to his work and tries to push all thoughts of fanfiction and Namjoon to the back of his mind.

The thing is, fanfiction and Namjoon are the two most exciting aspects of Yoongi’s life at the moment, so ignoring both is virtually impossible—especially when, by the end of the week, Yoongi is back on the bus to the Namsan Public Library.

Yoongi feels like he’s quickly descending into madness the closer the bus gets to the dreaded destination. It doesn’t help that Hoseok is in his ears, attempting to give him a pep talk over the phone.

“You just need to remember that most people like to fuck.”

Snorting, Yoongi adjusts his wireless earbuds when the bus hits a bump in the road.

“What? I’m serious! A lot of people don’t get caught up in the logistics, you know? If they want to pursue someone, and it’s consensual, then why not? That’s what PWPs are. Life doesn’t need a plot, hyung. It can be all porn.”

“I know all this. It just sounds fake,” Yoongi says with a huff as he prepares to get off the bus at the next stop.

Yoongi is a plot guy. His life is tagged “Eventual Smut,” and his readers are 50 chapters deep without even a chaste kiss.

He’s positive he could never force himself to hook up with a stranger. This little plan he’s managed to let Hoseok convince him to do with Namjoon, who is hardly more than an acquaintance, is already going against everything that feels natural.

The stuff Yoongi does for his art – and silly crushes, apparently.

Arriving early, Yoongi knows to head to the back of the library on the first floor, where the librarians’ offices are. Namjoon’s is conveniently located at the end of a long hallway Yoongi isn’t supposed to go down. The other librarians recognize him at this point, considering how many Sunday afternoons he has spent distracting Namjoon from his job, so they don’t comment when Yoongi ducks his head and slips through the “Employees Only” door.

Namjoon sits at his desk like Yoongi expects, with at least a dozen books stacked around him. He has to lift his head to peer over a stack when Yoongi slowly closes the door behind him.

“Hi, you’re early!” Namjoon beams with crinkled eyes and dimpled cheeks that make Yoongi’s stomach flutter. Namjoon is handsome and sweet; Yoongi doesn’t need to be a sexual being to know that.

“Is that okay?” Yoongi asks the floor as he pulls the sleeves of his thin sweater over his knuckles. He’s so nervous that sweat accumulates in his armpits.

“Of course, hyung,” Namjoon says softly. “Work is always more enjoyable when you’re around.”

Somewhat comforted by Namjoon’s reassurance, Yoongi takes a deep breath and walks up to Namjoon’s desk. He grips the edge and tries to calm his frantic heart. It’s nearly impossible. There’s Namjoon in his librarian taupe knit cardigan with the sleeves rolled up to show off tan forearms and hair neatly parted to frame his face. He’s scholarly-cute. Yoongi might not experience sexual attraction, but Namjoon can intellectually stimulate him – and that’s even better.

When Yoongi remains silent, Namjoon’s kind smile morphs into a frown.

“Are you okay–”

“Will you fuck me?”

The blush of pink across Namjoon’s cheeks and the bright sheen in his eyes make Yoongi consider that, perhaps, he might not hate this as much as he thought he would. That’s assuming Namjoon accepts his proposition rather than kick him out for being a pervert.

Shit, he sounds like a pervert, doesn’t he? How do other people do this without wanting the ground to open up and swallow them whole from embarrassment?

“Um, for literature’s sake?” Yoongi tacks onto his initial request when Namjoon doesn’t respond. “Actually, this is really stupid, oh god. I’m,” Yoongi looks around the room to keep his eyes away from Namjoon’s face. “I’m… just gonna leave… now…”

Namjoon grabs Yoongi’s forearm when he turns to leave, knocking a stack of books onto the floor. The loud crash makes both men jump, though Namjoon uses the momentum to stand up at his desk.

“I thought you weren’t into… that?” Namjoon asks slowly. He speaks like he’s not sure how to express his thoughts. Yoongi thinks he’s close enough.

“I’m not…”

The thing is, Hoseok was sort of correct, though Yoongi doesn’t want to admit it. Sometimes, Yoongi uses porn to help him write smut scenes when he can’t conjure up the ideas himself. Real sex, he supposes, is the best form of research – even if Yoongi normally avoids it.

“Then why?” There’s another silent question beneath the spoken one: Why me?

Yoongi locks eyes with Namjoon and realizes how endeared he is by the discomfort they’re both holding, each for a different reason. With faces flushed with embarrassment and eyes bright with uncertainty, Yoongi and Namjoon complement each other well.

“Hobi said it could help me get the inspiration I need to write the smut for ‘hat trick beauty,’” Yoongi trails off, his eyebrows furrowed in irritation when laughter bursts from Namjoon.

“Wait, you’re serious? Really?” Namjoon’s fingers slip from Yoongi’s forearm when Yoongi tugs out of his grasp.

“Don’t laugh at me.”

Namjoon’s expression drops. “I’m sorry.”

Yoongi hasn’t ever asked someone to fuck him before. It’s somewhat embarrassing to be laughed in the face over it, and it’s definitely demoralizing.

Yoongi pulls at his sleeves with a sigh, forcing sweater paws as if to cover more of himself from the awkwardness.

“Hyung, really, please talk to me,” Namjoon gently encourages.

Namjoon’s arm falls to his side, but he moves from behind his desk to stand in front of Yoongi on the other side. The distance is respectful, yet Yoongi wants him closer.

“It seems like a bad idea to force yourself to do something you don’t like simply because it might inspire you.”

“I just want to try it,” Yoongi explains, still avoiding Namjoon’s gaze. “Other people can hook up with strangers, so why can’t I? It doesn’t seem like it should be a big deal.”

Namjoon frowns. “That’s not how sexuality works.”

“I don’t care. I think it’s all stupid.”

Yoongi knows he sounds ridiculous without needing to see Namjoon’s amused look. He’s merely being honest; being so different from what most of society thinks people should be like can sometimes be frustrating. It makes life difficult in ways other people just don’t understand.

Namjoon is hot. He’s tall and muscular, with pecs that make his shirts stretch and thighs that threaten to rip his pants. He’s well-read and eloquent. What more could a person want in a man? Yet here is Yoongi, chewing on his bottom lip as he finally forces himself to look Namjoon in the eyes, at war with himself over what he’s doing.

“You seem to be overthinking the scene and this,” Namjoon suggests with a sweep of his hand between their bodies. “This isn’t me saying I wouldn’t enjoy being with you, hyung. My answer would be an easy ‘yes’ if it weren’t for the circumstances.”

Heat floods Yoongi’s face when Namjoon’s voice lowers, his tone making Yoongi’s stomach flip. Yoongi may not experience attraction like most people he knows, but his body will react to the right stimulus.

“I like you,” Yoongi whispers, suddenly aware of how closely he stands next to Namjoon. He can smell Namjoon’s cologne, which is clean and somehow sensual, with notes of vanilla and sandalwood.

“I like you, too,” Namjoon admits his feelings more confidently than Yoongi had.

“So… that’s supposed to be enough, right?”

With a small smile, Namjoon shrugs.

“It’s supposed to be whatever you want it to be, I guess? Sexuality is a spectrum, hyung. It’s okay if sometimes you feel one way and other times you feel differently. If you want to try something new, that’s okay, too.”

If Yoongi were impulsive and more sure of himself than he is, he would have kissed Namjoon for being so smart and reasonable.

“I guess being… intimate is easier when it’s on my own terms.”

Namjoon hums in understanding.

“You have agency. It doesn’t feel like you’re being forced or that it’s an expectation.”

Namjoon’s reassurance gives Yoongi the courage he needs. After this, no one will be able to say that Yoongi isn’t dedicated to his craft.

“Well, let’s get to it,” Yoongi announces with his head held high.

Namjoon’s eyes sparkle with mirth, but he holds his laughter in when he asks, “Would you like a pen and paper to take notes?”

“Shut up; that’s not funny.”

It is, though, and Yoongi can’t help but grin when Namjoon reaches across his desk to grab a little pack of sticky notes and an ink pen. Perhaps if Yoongi’s life was a fic, it would be crack.

Despite Namjoon’s joke, the atmosphere in the room thickens with tension. Yoongi may be the only one who senses it. Namjoon seems relaxed, still smiling, even as his sharp eyes roam over Yoongi’s frame. He and Yoongi have both said so much and so little.

“Can I kiss you?” Namjoon asks as he steps forward, shortening the distance between them and making every hopeless romantic reading the fic Yoongi’s writing in his head swoon.

How could a strange meet-cute have worked in real life?

Yoongi doesn’t think his life would be a cliche fic, but if it could, he’d want it to be just as charming as it is predictable – but in a comforting kind of way, not boring. He’d want his life to be the kind of fic you read when you want something that you know won’t hurt you because every path is already paved, lit up by neon lights that tell you to keep going, that everything is going to be okay.

Yoongi loves fics like those. They feel how Namjoon’s hands feel when he holds the small of Yoongi’s back and cradles the side of his face as he pulls him into a kiss. Namjoon is sure and slow as he eases Yoongi into a deeper kiss so their lips and tongues can move in a familiar dance, even if this is the first time they’ve danced it together.

Maybe their relationship is a fast burn, Yoongi thinks as Namjoon slips his hand beneath his sweater to slide his fingertips across his waist.

For some reason, it doesn’t feel rushed with Namjoon. It isn’t hot and heavy, bodies smashing against bodies. It’s just Namjoon, slow and patient, hooking his arm beneath Yoongi’s thighs and gently lifting him onto the edge of Namjoon’s desk.

“This is where I usually stop writing,” Yoongi whispers against Namjoon’s soft lips. He wishes he could speak things into existence rather than write them. It doesn’t seem fair that there’s a disconnect between his brain and body.

Namjoon doesn’t get angry. He doesn’t even seem disappointed when he asks, “Do you want to stop?”

Yoongi wants, and yet he also doesn’t. It means the same thing both ways.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

Yoongi bites Namjoon’s bottom lip, not to be sexy, but to shut him up. It makes Namjoon moan anyway, and Yoongi remembers that even though he doesn’t like sex, he’s always been pretty decent at it.

Funny how life works.

“How do you want to do this?” Namjoon pulls away to monitor Yoongi’s expression.

“I don’t like being naked,” Yoongi states curtly, still expecting judgment that will never come.

Namjoon rubs along Yoongi’s bare waist with his thumbs and firmly nods.

“Clothes on; got it. Anything else?”

The rest is embarrassing, but Yoongi knows he has to communicate his needs if he wants this to be a positive experience. He has very little practice speaking up. No one has ever asked him these questions, and his previous partners certainly weren’t concerned with making sure Yoongi was comfortable. Sex was always a point of contention and typically a means to an end.

“I, um, have a hard time relaxing. And then I get distracted.” Despite how hotly his face burns, Yoongi tries to keep his tone casual and unbothered.

“Proper foreplay; that would have been a given,” Namjoon says with a wink, making Yoongi roll his eyes to hide further embarrassment. “Is that all?”

It’s hard to be self-reflective when Yoongi knows he’s moments away from having sex with his relatively new friend in the library after not letting another person intimately touch him in at least two years.

Likely noticing that Yoongi is quickly tumbling into overthinking, Namjoon gently squeezes his waist and lifts him off the desk.

“I’m sure this might be difficult for you to understand,” Namjoon says as he slowly turns Yoongi around to face his desk, “But I wanted you the moment I saw you, hyung.”

Yoongi is thankful that Namjoon is standing behind him so he doesn’t have to suffer from being too shy to look at him. It is difficult to understand.

“I don’t know what to say to that,” Yoongi admits truthfully. He feels silly saying so, but his heart is light when Namjoon chuckles, and the sound vibrates against his back through Namjoon’s chest.

“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to express my attraction to you so you know that this isn’t just me doing you a favor.”

Closing his eyes, Yoongi shakily exhales when Namjoon presses him against the desk and rests his chin on his shoulder.

Namjoon tilts his head slightly. When he speaks, his lips brush the side of Yoongi’s neck.

“Can I eat you out?”

“Oh, uh, yeah.”

Yoongi is breathless already, and it makes him cringe. He doesn’t like how sex makes him feel vulnerable and delicate.

“Cool,” Namjoon responds with a quick kiss to Yoongi’s neck before he gets on his knees behind him.

There’s something about how casual Namjoon is as he reaches up to unbutton Yoongi’s jeans and pulls them down until they rest just below his ass — only removing his clothes enough to make the important parts accessible. Namjoon’s behavior minimizes the severity of the moment. He makes sure Yoongi isn’t more exposed than he needs to be and doesn’t make a fuss over what they’re about to do.

It’s nice. It keeps Yoongi from making this out to be a bigger deal than it needs to be and keeps him out of his own head.

It’s difficult for Yoongi to move since his jeans are pulled to the middle of his thighs. Luckily, Namjoon is fully capable of handling Yoongi on his own. He presses on Yoongi’s back to guide him forward until he’s bent at his waist over the edge of the desk. The position forces Yoongi to put his ass on display.

Satisfied, Namjoon runs his hands up Yoongi’s thighs until he reaches his ass and squeezes each cheek in his hands.

“Did you prep before you came?”

Of course, Yoongi did. He hasn’t had sex in years, and he rarely uses toys when he masturbates, which already isn’t a frequent occurrence. But Yoongi can’t tell Namjoon any of this, though not for a lack of trying. As Yoongi opens his mouth to respond, Namjoon runs his flattened tongue in one quick swipe across Yoongi’s rim.

Being vocal feels vulnerable to Yoongi. He doesn’t like expressing his pleasure during sex; it feels embarrassing, maybe even a bit emasculating, though he doesn’t know why he reacts this way. Rather than curse or moan, Yoongi lets out a quiet hiss through his clamped teeth and grabs onto the edge of the desk to hold himself in place.

When writing fanfic, Yoongi often fluctuates between descriptive smut and smut that glosses over the details for something more vague. It all depends on his mood and how easily he feels like the words come out of him.

Can Yoongi imagine it? Or does he struggle to conjure the image vividly enough to write it down in a way his readers will like?

Can Yoongi write a smut scene that accurately (and sexily) portrays the way Namjoon grips his asscheeks, gently hooking his thumbs in his hole to spread him open as he languidly flicks and swirls his tongue inside of him? Or would Yoongi skip over it, instead focusing on the heat that coils in his stomach when Namjoon worships him with his lips, each moan a quiet declaration of admiration spoken against his wet, flushed skin?

On the verge of overthinking, Yoongi is relieved when Namjoon switches up the foreplay. He hears the smacking sound of Namjoon’s lips and then feels two spit-slicked fingers slip inside him.

“Can you reach the top drawer?” Namjoon’s voice is rough and raw, gravelly in sound, different from the gentle, intentional way he normally speaks.

Nodding and lifting up on his tiptoes, Yoongi reaches forward to fumble with the drawer handle. Namjoon’s fingers follow the movement, slowly easing in and out of Yoongi but never hitting the spot Yoongi knows he needs to hit if he wants this to be worth it.

“There should be a little bottle of lube.”

Yoongi snorts when his fingers bump into the travel-size bottle. How convenient.

“Why do you have this here?”

Namjoon squeezes Yoongi’s thigh and rakes his blunt nails over the soft skin just hard enough to make it tingle.

“I don’t know. Maybe I thought about this happening,” Namjoon offers, probably with a shrug, but Yoongi doesn’t see him, just passes the lube behind him. “Not exactly like this, but…”

Nothing more needs to be said.

Namjoon makes quick work lubing Yoongi up, massaging his rim and walls with confident strokes even after fumbling with the bottle. Yoongi is pretty sure other people like drawn-out sex that optimizes pleasure, but he prefers sex that is straightforward. That’s where all the fluff additions come in. If he gets the main points of sex down, kissing, fingering, and dick-in-ass, then the other stuff can be added later.

So Yoongi is thankful when Namjoon stands up behind him without making a fuss – no declarations of how nice Yoongi’s ass is, how his hole sucks in Namjoon’s fingers with ease, how pretty Yoongi’s dripping, neglected cock is.

It’s all silliness in real life, too porn-y for Yoongi’s liking.

“Are you ready?” Namjoon asks against the curve of Yoongi’s shoulder as he pulls his wallet from his back pocket to retrieve a condom. Again, how convenient. Do sexual people actually carry lube and condoms around? Is it just Yoongi who is perpetually unprepared?

“Yeah,” Yoongi pants, already feeling like he’s tipping over the edge. He can’t remember the last time he had such a thorough prepping, and it’s making him sweat. “Wait – I need to look at your dick. For the literature.”

Namjoon throws his head back in bewildered laughter as Yoongi twists around to get a good look at what is honestly a monster between Namjoon’s legs. Still wearing all his clothes, Namjoon has his pants unzipped and pushed down his hips just enough to pull his cock out. File this away under the “Has a Big Dick” tag on AO3, good lord.

Yoongi must make a face because Namjoon’s laughter starts up again. Namjoon’s cock bobs from the shake that ripples through his body with each chuckle.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Namjoon covers his cock with his hands. “You’re making me feel self-conscious.”

“You have a big dick, okay. I’m just thinking about how uncomfortable it will be to sit at my desk to write later.”

Curling both lips into his mouth and looking up at the ceiling to stop himself from laughing, Namjoon exhales loudly through his nose.

“I must say, I haven’t gotten anything like that before.”

Waving the comment away, Yoongi turns back around and leans forward with his forearms on the desk.

“Come on. Queer Book Club is going to start soon.”

“Of course, Yoongi-ssi.”

Yoongi does his best not to think too hard when Namjoon slowly thrusts inside him. He tries to focus his attention on the sensations he feels: the stretch of Namjoon’s thick cock opening Yoongi up, the press of Namjoon’s fingertips to Yoongi’s skin where Namjoon grips his hip bones to use as leverage when he pulls back and thrusts again, the continuous prodding of his prostate that will eventually turn into a build-up of pleasure.

It’s easier than Yoongi expects. He keeps his eyes closed and lets his body rock against the desk, making himself slack in Namjoon’s hold. There’s no need to do anything more; Namjoon takes over.

“Fuck, you feel so good, so tight,” Namjoon grunts quietly.

Somehow, it feels like Namjoon knows not to drag this out. He goes hard and fast, fucking Yoongi with enough force that more books fall off the desk. Yoongi strongly hopes no one comes in to investigate the racket they’re making. They may as well be tearing the whole library down.

The sex is objectively good; Yoongi knows that. He can feel his orgasm quickly approaching, partially because he hasn’t had sex in so long and also because Namjoon is good at what he does. The thing is, it isn’t mindblowing like Yoongi has always been led to believe sex is. Sometimes he can’t even focus on the literal feeling of sex; he can only tell that it’s doing something to his biology that’s going to make him cum.

Usually, the emotional attachment he has to the person he’s sleeping with is what gives sex meaning to Yoongi – and even then, it isn’t always that important.

Namjoon slides one palm up Yoongi’s back to bunch up his shirt and give himself something to hold onto.

The pull tightens the collar of Yoongi’s t-shirt around his neck. It doesn’t completely cut off his airway, but it applies pressure that makes his breathing shift into shallow gasping. Breathplay isn’t something Yoongi has ever experimented with; strangely, it’s what pushes him over the edge.

Yoongi cums all over the side of the desk with a choking sound that makes Namjoon let go of his shirt.

“I’m so sorry,” Namjoon huffs as he presses one hand on the desk's surface and uses his other to hold Yoongi still. “You should have said something.”

“I’m fine; just hurry up,” Yoongi insists, still winded and trying to catch his breath.

Luckily, Namjoon doesn’t take long to finish. Yoongi nearly squirms away from him by the time Namjoon pulls out, his entire body on edge from the pleasure verging on overstimulation. Overstim is great to write about, but it's annoying to experience in real life, in Yoongi’s opinion.

Writing two orgasms is also annoying, Yoongi thinks as Namjoon throws away the condom, hiding it deep in the trash can, just in case anyone notices it. Simultaneous orgasms are a smut writer’s dream. Yoongi wonders how often it happens in real life. If anyone can accomplish it, he feels like Namjoon could.

Namjoon looks cute with sweaty hair and a pink tint to his tan cheeks. He looks at Yoongi with a strange mix of lust, adoration, and sheepishness when he tucks his cock back in his pants and passes Yoongi a handful of stray napkins to clean up the mess he’s made on the desk.

“This wasn’t well thought-out,” Yoongi mumbles, face burning like a wildfire when he is confronted with his own cum. “I might throw up.”

“It’s natural,” Namjoon laughs.

“It’s gross.”

What’s really gross is the sweet look Namjoon maintains as Yoongi finishes his task and does his best to straighten himself out, double-checking his pants for stains and brushing away his hair from his face. Going to Queer Book Club after this is going to be a disaster. Yoongi considers skipping.

“So, do you feel better?” There’s another question under the surface: Did I do okay?

Kissing isn’t sex, but it’s intimate more often than not and isn’t on Yoongi’s list of his favorite things to do. Despite that, he gets on his tiptoes to kiss Namjoon – a peck that’s quick and easy to back out of and one that grows the grin on Namjoon’s face tenfold.

“It was alright,” Yoongi says with a shrug when he pulls away. “When I have another smut scene to write, I’ll keep you on my list of people to contact for help.”

“Ah, I’m sure you won’t need help anymore. You took notes, didn’t you?”

When Yoongi meets Namjoon’s gaze, he’s met with the dimpled smile he’s become enamored with. This isn’t a good end to a fic, Yoongi thinks as he helps Namjoon clean up his office and prepare for their book club, but that’s okay. This is only the beginning of Yoongi and Namjoon.

#bts fanfic #bts smut #namgi smut #namgi fanfic #namgi au #namjoon x yoongi #gimmethatagustd #sunday smut book club

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