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#random cocktail post
afragmentcastadrift · 9 months
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There's a certain joy that comes with receiving the small written thank-you notes that some vendors and creators send with their products.
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lynne-monstr · 12 days
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I'm still trying to pretend monday doesn't exist so I took myself out for enrichment on this lovely day. I rode the ferry on the open top part and had a tasty cocktail outside with a water view and went vintage furniture window shopping, what a good day. now I'm back home and I think I'm going to make an enzoni and do some balcony writing. happy saturday!
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hussyknee · 11 months
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17/12/23 this masterlist has been completely revamped with free access to all material. It will be updated and edited periodically so please click on my username and reblog the current version directly from me if you're able.
14/8/24 reboosting this post with How to Help Palestine updated. Please scroll to the bottom to donate or boost the links.
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The Big Damn List Of Stuff They Said You Didn't Know
(Yes, it's a lot. Just choose your preferred medium and then pick one.)
Podcasts
Backgrounders and Quick Facts
Interactive Maps
Teach-Out Resources
Reading Material (free)
Films and Documentaries (free)
Non-Governmental Organizations
Social Media
How You Can Help <- URGENT!!!
Podcasts
Cocktails & Capitalism: The Story of Palestine Part 1, Part 3
It Could Happen Here: The Cheapest Land is Bought with Blood, Part 2, The Balfour Declaration
Citations Needed: Media narratives and consent manufacturing around Israel-Palestine and the Gaza Siege
The Deprogram: Free Palestine, ft. decolonizatepalestine.com.
Backgrounders and Quick Facts
The Palestine Academy: Palestine 101
Institute for Middle East Understanding: Explainers and Quick Facts
Interactive Maps
Visualizing Palestine
Teach-Out Resources
1) Cambridge UCU and Pal Society
Palestine 101
Intro to Palestine Film + Art + Literature
Resources for Organising and Facilitating)
2) The Jadaliya YouTube Channel of the Arab Studies Institute
Gaza in Context Teach-in series
War on Palestine podcast
Updates and Discussions of news with co-editors Noura Erakat and Mouin Rabbani.
3) The Palestine Directory
History (virtual tours, digital archives, The Palestine Oral History Project, Documenting Palestine, Queering Palestine)
Cultural History (Palestine Open Maps, Overdue Books Zine, Palestine Poster Project)
Contemporary Voices in the Arts
Get Involved: NGOs and campaigns to help and support.
3) PalQuest Interactive Encyclopedia of the Palestine Question.
4) The Palestine Remix by Al Jazeera
Books and Articles
Free reading material
My Gdrive of Palestine/Decolonization Literature (nearly all the books recommended below + books from other recommended lists)
Five free eBooks by Verso
Three Free eBooks on Palestine by Haymarket
LGBT Activist Scott Long's Google Drive of Palestine Freedom Struggle Resources
Recommended Reading List
Academic Books
Edward Said (1979) The Question of Palestine, Random House
Ilan Pappé (2002)(ed) The Israel/Palestine Question, Routledge
Ilan Pappé (2006) The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine, OneWorld Publications
Ilan Pappé (2011) The Forgotten Palestinians: A History of the Palestinians in Israel, Yale University Press
Ilan Pappé (2015) The Idea of Israel: A History of Power and Knowledge, Verso Books
Ilan Pappé (2017) The Biggest Prison On Earth: A History Of The Occupied Territories, OneWorld Publications
Ilan Pappé (2022) A History of Modern Palestine, Cambridge University Press
Rosemary Sayigh (2007) The Palestinians: From Peasants to Revolutionaries, Bloomsbury
Andrew Ross (2019) Stone Men: the Palestinians who Built Israel, Verso Books
Rashid Khalidi (2020) The Hundred Years’ War on Palestine: A History of Settler Colonialism and Resistance 1917–2017
Ariella Azoulay (2011) From Palestine to Israel: A Photographic Record of Destruction and State Formation, 1947-1950, Pluto Press
Ariella Azoulay and Adi Ophir (2012) The One-State Condition: Occupation and Democracy in Israel/Palestine, Stanford University Press.
Jeff Halper (2010) An Israeli in Palestine: Resisting Dispossession, Redeeming Israel, Pluto Press
Jeff Halper (2015) War Against the People: Israel, the Palestinians and Global Pacification
Jeff Halper (2021) Decolonizing Israel, Liberating Palestine: Zionism, Settler Colonialism, and the Case for One Democratic State, Pluto Press
Anthony Loewenstein (2023) The Palestine Laboratory: How Israel exports the Technology of Occupation around the World
Noura Erakat (2019) Justice for Some: Law and the Question of Palestine, Stanford University Press
Neve Gordon (2008) Israel’s Occupation, University of California Press
Joseph Massad (2006) The Persistence of the Palestinian Question: Essays on Zionism and the Palestinians, Routledge
Memoirs
Edward Said (1986) After the Last Sky: Palestine Lives, Columbia University PEdward Saidress
Edward Said (2000) Out of Place; A Memoir, First Vintage Books
Mourid Barghouti (2005) I saw Ramallah, Bloomsbury
Hatim Kanaaneh (2008) A Doctor in Galilee: The Life and Struggle of a Palestinian in Israel, Pluto Press
Raja Shehadeh (2008) Palestinian Walks: Into a Vanishing Landscape, Profile Books
Ghada Karmi (2009) In Search of Fatima: A Palestinian Story, Verso Books
Vittorio Arrigoni (2010) Gaza Stay Human, Kube Publishing
Ramzy Baroud (2010) My Father Was a Freedom Fighter: Gaza's Untold Story, Pluto Press
Izzeldin Abuelaish (2011) I Shall Not Hate: A Gaza Doctor’s Journey on the Road to Peace and Human Dignity, Bloomsbury
Atef Abu Saif (2015) The Drone Eats with Me: A Gaza Diary, Beacon Press
Anthologies
Voices from Gaza - Insaniyyat (The Society of Palestinian Anthropologists)
Letters From Gaza • Protean Magazine
Salma Khadra Jayyusi (1992) Anthology of Modern Palestinian Literature, Columbia University Press
ASHTAR Theatre (2010) The Gaza Monologues
Refaat Alreer (ed) (2014) Gaza Writes Back, Just World Books
Refaat Alreer, Laila El-Haddad (eds) (2015) Gaza Unsilenced, Just World Books
Cate Malek and Mateo Hoke (eds)(2015) Palestine Speaks: Narrative of Life under Occupation, Verso Books
Jehad Abusalim, Jennifer Bing (eds) (2022) Light in Gaza: Writings Born of Fire, Haymarket Books
Short Story Collections
Ghassan Kanafani, Hilary Kilpatrick (trans) (1968) Men in the Sun and Other Palestinian Stories, Lynne Rienner Publishers
Ghassan Kanafani, Barbara Harlow, Karen E. Riley (trans) (2000) Palestine’s Children: Returning to Haifa and Other Stories, Lynne Rienner Publishers
Atef Abu Saif (2014) The Book of Gaza: A City in Short Fiction, Comma Press
Samira Azzam, Ranya Abdelrahman (trans) (2022) Out Of Time: The Collected Short Stories of Samira Azzam
Sonia Sulaiman (2023) Muneera and the Moon; Stories Inspired by Palestinian Folklore
Essay Collections
Edward W. Said (2000) Reflections on Exile and Other Essays, Harvard University Press
Salim Tamari (2008) Mountain against the Sea: Essays on Palestinian Society and Culture, University of California Press
Fatma Kassem (2011) Palestinian Women: Narratives, histories and gendered memory, Bloombsbury
Ramzy Baroud (2019) These Chains Will Be Broken: Palestinian Stories of Struggle and Defiance in Israeli Prisons, Clarity Press
Novels
Sahar Khalifeh (1976) Wild Thorns, Saqi Books
Liyana Badr (1993) A Balcony over the Fakihani, Interlink Books
Hala Alyan (2017) Salt Houses, Harper Books
Susan Abulhawa (2011) Mornings in Jenin, Bloomsbury
Susan Abulhawa (2020) Against the Loveless World, Bloomsbury
Graphic novels
Joe Sacco (2001) Palestine
Joe Sacco (2010) Footnotes in Gaza
Naji al-Ali (2009) A Child in Palestine, Verso Books
Mohammad Sabaaneh (2021) Power Born of Dreams: My Story is Palestine, Street Noise Book*
Poetry
Fady Joudah (2008) The Earth in the Attic, Sheridan Books,
Ghassan Zaqtan, Fady Joudah (trans) (2012) Like a Straw Bird It Follows Me and Other Poems, Yale University Press
Hala Alyan (2013) Atrium: Poems, Three Rooms Press*
Mohammed El-Kurd (2021) Rifqa, Haymarket Books
Mosab Abu Toha (2022) Things You May Find Hidden in My Ear: Poems from Gaza, City Lights Publishers
Tawfiq Zayyad (2023) We Are Here to Stay, Smokestack Books*
The Works of Mahmoud Darwish
Poems
Rafeef Ziadah (2011) We Teach Life, Sir
Nasser Rabah (2022) In the Endless War
Refaat Alareer (2011) If I Must Die
Hiba Abu Nada (2023) I Grant You Refuge/ Not Just Passing
[All books except the ones starred are available in my gdrive. I'm adding more each day. But please try and buy whatever you're able or borrow from the library. Most should be available in the discounted Free Palestine Reading List by Pluto Press, Verso and Haymarket Books.]
Human Rights Reports & Documents
Information on current International Court of Justice case on ‘Legal Consequences arising from the Policies and Practices of Israel in the Occupied Palestinian Territory, including East Jerusalem’
UN Commission of Inquiry Report 2022
UN Special Rapporteur Report on Apartheid 2022
Amnesty International Report on Apartheid 2022
Human Rights Watch Report on Apartheid 2021
Report of the United Nations Fact-Finding Mission on the Gaza Conflict’ 2009 (‘The Goldstone Report’)
Advisory Opinion on the Legal Consequences of the Construction of a Wall in the Occupied Palestinian Territory, International Court of Justice, 9 July 2004
Films
Documentaries
Jenin, Jenin (2003) dir. Mohammed Bakri
Massacre (2005) dir. Monica Borgmann, Lokman Slim, Hermann Theissen
Slingshot HipHop (2008) dir. Jackie Reem Salloum
Waltz with Bashir (2008) dir. Ari Folman † (also on Amazon Prime)
Tears of Gaza (2010) dir. Vibeke Løkkeberg (also on Amazon Prime)
5 Broken Cameras (2011) dir. Emad Burnat (also on Amazon Prime)
The Gatekeepers (2012) dir. Dror Moreh (also on Amazon Prime)
The Great Book Robbery (2012) | Al Jazeera English
Al Nakba (2013) | Al Jazeera (5-episode docu-series)
The Village Under the Forest (2013) dir. Mark J. Kaplan
Where Should The Birds Fly (2013) dir. Fida Qishta
Naila and the Uprising (2017) (also on Amazon Prime)
GAZA (2019) dir. Andrew McConnell and Garry Keane
Gaza Fights For Freedom (2019) dir. Abby Martin
Little Palestine: Diary Of A Siege (2021) dir. Abdallah Al Khatib 
Palestine 1920: The Other Side of the Palestinian Story (2021) | Al Jazeera World Documentary
Gaza Fights Back (2021) | MintPress News Original Documentary | dir. Dan Cohen
Innocence (2022) dir. Guy Davidi
Short Films
Fatenah (2009) dir. Ahmad Habash
Gaza-London (2009) dir. Dina Hamdan
Condom Lead (2013) dir. Tarzan Nasser, Arab Nasser
OBAIDA (2019) | Defence for Children Palestine
Theatrical Films
Divine Intervention (2002) | dir. Elia Suleiman (also on Netflix)
Paradise Now (2005) dir Hany Abu-Assad (also on Amazon Prime)
Lemon Tree (2008) (choose auto translate for English subs) (also on Amazon Prime)
It Must Be Heaven (2009) | dir. Elia Suleiman †
The Promise (2010) mini-series dir. Peter Kosminsky (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4)
Habibi (2011)* dir. Susan Youssef
Omar (2013)* dir. Hany Abu-Assad †
3000 Nights (2015)* dir. Mai Masri
Foxtrot (2017) dir. Samuel Maoz (also on Amazon Prime)
The Time that Remains (2019) dir. Elia Suleiman †
Gaza Mon Amour (2020) dir. Tarzan Nasser, Arab Nasser †
The Viewing Booth (2020) dir. Ra'anan Alexandrowicz (on Amazon Prime and Apple TV)
Farha (2021)* | dir. Darin J. Sallam
Palestine Film Institute Archive
All links are for free viewing. The ones marked with a star (*) can be found on Netflix, while the ones marked † can be downloaded for free from my Mega account.
If you find Guy Davidi's Innocence anywhere please let me know, I can't find it for streaming or download even to rent or buy.
In 2018, BDS urged Netflix to dump Fauda, a series created by former members of IOF death squads that legitimizes and promotes racist violence and war crimes, to no avail. Please warn others to not give this series any views. BDS has not called for a boycott of Netflix. ]
NGOs
The Boycott, Divestment, Sanctions (BDS) Movement
Euro-Mediterranean Human Rights Monitor
UNRWA
Palestine Defence for Children International
Palestinian Feminist Collective
Al-Shabaka: The Palestinian Policy Network
Addameer Prisoner Support and Human Rights Association
Institute for Palestine Studies
Al Haq
Artists for Palestine
The Palestine Museum
Jewish Currents
B’Tselem
DAWN
Social Media
Palestnians on Tumblr
@el-shab-hussein
@killyfromblame
@apollos-olives
@fairuzfan
@palipunk
@sar-soor
@nabulsi
@wearenotjustnumbers2
@90-ghost
@tamarrud
@northgazaupdates
Allies and advocates (not Palestinian)
@bloglikeanegyptian beautiful posts that read like op-eds
@vyorei daily news roundups
@luthienne resistance through prose
@decolonize-the-left scoop on the US political plans and impacts
@feluka
@anneemay
(Please don't expect any of these blogs to be completely devoted to Palestine allyship; they do post regularly about it but they're still personal blogs and post whatever else they feel like. Do not harrass them.)
Gaza journalists
Motaz Azaiza IG: @motaz_azaiza | Twitter: @azaizamotaz9 | TikTok: _motaz.azaiza (left Gaza as of Jan 23)
Bisan Owda IG and TikTok: wizard_bisan1 | Twitter: @wizardbisan
Saleh Aljafarawi IG: @saleh_aljafarawi | Twitter: @S_Aljafarawi | TikTok: @saleh_aljafarawi97
Plestia Alaqad IG: @byplestia | TikTok: @plestiaaqad (left Gaza)
Wael Al-Dahdouh IG: @wael_eldahdouh | Twitter: @WaelDahdouh (left Gaza as of Jan 13)
Hind Khoudary IG: @hindkhoudary | Twitter: @Hind_Gaza
Ismail Jood IG and TikTok: @ismail.jood (announced end of coverage on Jan 25)
Yara Eid IG: @eid_yara | Twitter: @yaraeid_
Eye on Palestine IG: @eye.on.palestine | Twitter: @EyeonPalestine | TikTok: @eyes.on.palestine
Muhammad Shehada Twitter: @muhammadshehad2
(Edit: even though some journos have evacuated, the footage up to the end of their reporting is up on their social media, and they're also doing urgent fundraisers to get their families and friends to safety. Please donate or share their posts.)
News organisations
The Electronic Intifada Twitter: @intifada | IG: @electronicintifada
Quds News Network Twitter and Telegram: @QudsNen | IG: @qudsn (Arabic)
Times of Gaza IG: @timesofgaza | Twitter: @Timesofgaza | Telegram: @TIMESOFGAZA
The Palestine Chronicle Twitter: @PalestineChron | IG: @palestinechron | @palestinechronicle
Al-Jazeera Twitter: @AJEnglish | IG and TikTok: @aljazeeraenglish, @ajplus
Middle East Eye IG and TikTok: @middleeasteye | Twitter: @MiddleEastEye
Democracy Now Twitter and IG: @democracynow TikTok: @democracynow.org
Mondoweiss IG and TikTok: @mondoweiss | Twitter: @Mondoweiss
The Intercept Twitter and IG: @theintercept
MintPress Twitter: @MintPressNews | IG: mintpress
Novara Media Twitter and IG: @novaramedia
Truthout Twitter and IG: @truthout
Palestnians on Other Social Media
Mouin Rabbani: Middle East analyst specializing in the Arab-Israeli conflict and Palestinian affairs. Twitter: @MouinRabbani
Noura Erakat: Legal scholar, human rights attorney, specialising in Israeli–Palestinian conflict. Twitter: @4noura | IG: @nouraerakat | (http://www.nouraerakat.com/)
Hebh Jamal: Journalist in Germany. IG and Twitter: @hebh_jamal
Ghada Sasa: PhD candidate in International Relations, green colonialism, and Islam in Canada. Twitter: @sasa_ghada | IG: @ghadasasa48
Taleed El Sabawi: Assistant professor of law and researcher in public health. Twitter: @el_sabawi | IG
Lexi Alexander: Filmmaker and activist. Twitter: @LexiAlex | IG: @lexialexander1
Mariam Barghouti: Writer, blogger, researcher, and journalist. Twitter: @MariamBarghouti | IG: @mariambarghouti
Rasha Abdulhadi: Queer poet, author and cultural organizer. Twitter: @rashaabdulhadi
Mohammed el-Kurd: Writer and activist from Jerusalem. IG: @mohammedelkurd | Twitter: @m7mdkurd
Ramy Abdu: Founder and Chairman of the Euro-Mediterranean Human Rights Monitor. Twitter: @RamyAbdu
Subhi: Founder of The Palestine Academy website. IG: @sbeih.jpg |TikTok @iamsbeih | Twitter: @iamsbeih
Allies
Lowkey (Kareem Dennis): Rapper, activist, video and podcast host for MintPress. Twitter: @LowkeyOnline IG: @lowkeyonline
Francesca Albanese: UN Special Rapporteur on the Occupied Territories. Twitter: @FranceskAlbs
Sana Saeed: Journalist and media critic, host and senior producer at Al-Jazeera Plus. IG: @sanaface | Twitter: @SanaSaeed
Shailja Patel: Poet, playwright, activist, founding member of Kenyans For Peace, Truth and Justice. Twitter: @shailjapatel
Jairo I. Fúnez-Flores: Researcher in curriculum studies, decolonial theory, social movements. Twitter: @Jairo_I_Funez
Jack Dodson: Journalist and Filmmaker. Twitter: @JackDodson IG: @jdodson4
Imani Barbarin: Writer, public speaker, and disability rights activist. IG: @crutches_and_spice | Twitter: @Imani_Barbarin | TikTok: @crutches_and_spice
Jewish Allies
Katie Halper: US comedian, writer, filmmaker, podcaster, and political commentator. IG and Twitter: @kthalps
Dr. Chanda Prescod-Weinstein: Associate Professor of Physics and Core Faculty Member in Women’s and Gender Studies at the University of New Hampshire. Twitter: @IBJIYONGI | (https://chanda.science/)
Amanda Gelender: Writer. Twitter: @agelender | (https://agelender.medium.com/)
Yoav Litvin: Jerusalem-born Writer and Photographer. IG and Twitter: @nookyelur | (yoavlitvin.com)
Alana Lentin: Professor of Cultural and Social Analysis at Western Sydney University. Twitter: @alanalentin
Gideon Levy: anti-Zionist Israeli journalist and activist. Twitter: @gideonlevy
‼️How You Can Help Palestine‼️
Click for Palestine (Please reblog!!)
Masterlist of donation links by @sulfurcosmos (Please reblog!!)
Water for Gaza: Donate directly to the Gaza Municipality
Operation Olive Branch Linktree for vetted fundraisers, donations and political action resources. TikTok and Instagram: @operationolivebranch | Twitter: @OPOliveBranch
Gazafunds (vetted and spotlighted GFMs)
The Butterfly Effect Project (spreadsheet of vetted GFMs)
Spreadsheet of Gaza fundraisers vetted by @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi
If any links are broken let me know. Or pull up the current post to check whether it's fixed.
Political action to pressure the Harris campaign to stop arming Israel (for US citizens): Uncommitted Movement (TikTok: @uncommittedmvmt) (Please reblog!!)
"Knowledge is Israel's worst enemy. Awareness is Israel's most hated and feared foe. That's why Israel bombs a university: it wants to kill openness and determination to refuse living under injustice and racism."
— Dr. Refaat Alareer, (martyred Dec 6, 2023)
From River To The Sea Palestine Will Be Free 🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸
-----
Edit 1: took the first video down because turns out the animator is a terf and it links to her blog. Really sorry for any distress.
Edit 2: All recommended readings + Haymarket recommendations + essential decolonization texts have been uploaded to my linked gdrive. I will adding more periodically. Please do buy or check them out from the library if possible, but this post was made for and by poor and gatekept Global South bitches like me.
Some have complained about the memes being disrespectful. You're actually legally obligated to make fun of Israeli propaganda and Zionists. I don't make the rules.
Edit 3: "The river to the sea" does not mean the expulsion of Jews from Palestine. Believing that is genocide apologia.
Edit 4: Gazans have specifically asked us to put every effort into pushing for a ceasefire instead of donations. "Raising humanitarian aid" is a grift Western governments are pushing right now to deflect from the fact that they're sending billions to Israel to keep carpet bombing Gazans. As long as the blockades are still in place there will never be enough aid for two million people. (UPDATE: PLEASE DONATE to the Gazan's GoFundMe fundraisers to help them buy food and get out of Rafah into Egypt. E-SIMs, food and medical supplies are also essential. Please donate to the orgs linked in the How You Can Help. Go on the strikes. DO NOT STOP PROTESTING.)
Edit 5: Google drive link for academic books folder has been fixed. Also have added a ton of resources to all the other folders so please check them out.
Edit 6: Added interactive maps, Jadaliya channel, and masterlists of donation links and protest support and of factsheets.
The twitter accounts I reposted as it was given to me and I just now realized it had too many Israeli voices and almost none of the Palestinians I'm following, so it's being edited. (Update: done!) also removed sources like Jewish Voices of Peace and Breaking the Silence that do good work but have come under fair criticism from Palestinians.
Edit 7: Complete reformatting
Edit 8: Complete revamping of the social media section. It now reflects my own following list.
Edit 9: removed some more problematic people from the allies list. Remember that the 2SS is a grift that's used to normalize violence and occupation, kids. Supporting the one-state solution is lowest possible bar for allyship. It's "Free Palestine" not "Free half of Palestine and hope Israel doesn't go right back to killing them".
Edit 10: added The Palestine Directory + Al Jazeera documentary + Addameer. This "100 links per post" thing sucks.
Edit 11: more documentaries and films
Edit 12: reformatted reading list
Edit 13: had to remove @palipunk's masterlist to add another podcast. It's their pinned post and has more resources Palestinian culture and crafts if you want to check it out
Edit 14 6th May '24: I've stopped updating this masterlist so some things, like journalists still left in Gaza and how to support the student protests are missing. I've had to take a step back and am no longer able to track these things down on my own, and I've hit the '100 links per post' limit, but if you can leave suggestions for updates along with links in either the replies or my asks I will try and add them.
Edit 15 10th August: added to Palestinian allies list and reworked the Help for Palestine section. There's been a racist harrassment campaign against the Palestinian Tumblrs that vetted the Gaza fundraisers based off one mistake made by a Gazan who doesn't understand English. If you're an ally, shut that shit down. Even if you donate to a scam GFM, you're only out some coffee money; if everyone stops donating to all the GFMs in fear of scams, those families die.
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makahitaki · 2 years
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ryo-maybe · 2 years
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can u explain why AI art is bad without fearmongering, moralizing or bootlicking lol
I'm going to answer in good faith, even though the tone you're using sounds like you're harboring anything but. The issue with AI art isn't specifically inherent to the tools used to produce it, because, ultimately, a tool is merely that: something devoid of will which, in the hands of a human, can produce a specific outcome. It's the human element that taints what we could otherwise enjoy for the unquestioningly fascinating topic that is AI art and, by extension, AI software as a whole.
Now, the problem isn't people, period, but the kind of people that are responsible for giving AI the bad rep it's been getting, along with the intent that goes into both the development of AI tools and the things produced by dint of said tools. I'm talking about the tech bros happily rubbing their hands, waiting to provide business moguls with a brand new means to commodify and mass-produce what artists stake their entire livelihoods upon, because when you have enough zeroes lined up in your bank account, your eyes are utterly blinded to the soul and personality that human beings put into their handiwork, and which a machine won't ever be able to reproduce no matter how much stolen art you feed it. Oh yeah, by the way, that's how AI art tools have been making the rounds: by chewing on thousands upon thousands of stolen pictures made by actual people so that they may learn how to ape someone's style and spit out absolutely soulless derivatives, while the original authors don't see a lick of recognition or monetary retribution for any of it. Do I need to tell you why stealing and parading someone else's art as your own is a terrible, vile thing to do?
But sure, you did ask me to refrain from "fearmongering, moralizing or bootlicking", which I guess I've already done. So since you'd rather I skipped straight to the point in a concise manner, lemme offer some quick examples of why the culture surrounding AI art has already developed into one of the most abysmally disappointing displays of how greed and an utter lack of human decency can ruin something objectively brimming with possibilities:
Less than a week after the sudden death of Korean artist Kim Jung-gi, someone trained an AI model to mimic his artstyle, having the audacity of asking for credits if anyone wished to use it. I sincerely hope I don't have to explain to you why this is a ghoulish example of the kind of tone-deafness sported by tech bros who buy wholesale into the AI art craze.
A piece of AI art was submitted to an art contest and won. The "artist"'s work amounted to little more than picking a series of prompts and letting the machine do the work. It's as much art as googling a smattering of terms and making a collage of pictures taken from Pinterest (and even then, you would have put more work into it than this person did). That they won at all says a whole damn lot about how abysmal the respect given to artists - real artists - nowadays is.
There are a multitude of people out there already selling prints of AI-generated art. I could link some of them here, but honestly, type "ai art prints" on a search engine and you'll get inundated by them. I've seen and personally know artists who have had to undersell their works because commissions were the only thin, frayed string they could hang on in hopes of making it through the week without fucking starving themselves, but here we are: any random asshole can now yell "MASSIVE BREASTS, THIN WAIST, COCKTAIL DRESS, HUGE BADONGAS" at a computer, let it mash together a trillion of other people's hard work, and print it for easy bucks that the actual authors of the basic ingredients of their insipid soup will never, ever see a dime of.
It really bothers me that you mentioned "no bootlicking". Whose fucking boots is this side of the debate supposedly tasting? That of the artists who post every day about how angry, sad and terrified they are by the prospects of what the development of AI art will entail for their livelihood and passion? What kind of gall did your mother birth you with that you have the spiteful spunk to type that word, when you've got shit like an artist who had their sketch stolen while they were drawing it on stream, then fed to an AI and posted by someone passing it off as their own art? How does that not ignite your indignation? "Bootlicking". Like anyone's tongues have been tasting leather but those of the same tech bro chodes who kept trying oh so hard to convince us NFTs were the future while ruining the environment to make the absolute stupidest point ever made in the history of humanity.
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smooth-operator-55 · 28 days
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Carlos with dialogues n°2 situations n°10 and places n°4 pls 🙏🙏🙏🙏
Say my name | CS55
In which you accidentally moan an ex's name while being intimate with fwb!Carlos, in his car.
Warnings: friends with benefits, smut, piv (protected), tiniest bit of angst if you squint (but not really), english not being my first language
Word count: 2,6k
A/N: Thank you for the patience, other one-shots will be posted shortly as well! Hope you like it :)
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The night flowed easily, just like the drinks in the club you were at with your friends. A night out was much needed by everyone, just being together and having fun. It was getting quite late, which was visible on some of the small group you were out with. After multiple glasses of shots, cocktails and beers being downed by everyone, some could still dance but some were already half asleep in the booth.
You were on the verge of the latter when you felt a hand on your shoulder, making you jump a tad. Looking up, you saw Carlos standing over you. His lips moved but his voice blended in perfectly with the loud music and bass vibrating through the walls and your lungs – though your tipsy state didn't help either.
Carlos bent down and his warm hand immediately wrapped around your wrist gently. He repeated himself with his lips right next to your ear.
"Come dance with me!"
Feeling the effect of the night and the drinks you'd had, you thought it was better not to, even if you wanted to. When he saw you shaking your head, Carlos just stared nodding his as he tried to pull you to stand, making you shake yours even more.
"Do you feel sick?" His lips traced the shell of your ear once again. You shook your head again in response.
"I'm tired." You shouted over the music.
He sat down next to you, his side right up against you without any space left between your bodies.
"Do you want to go home?" His eyes scanned your face for any signs of discomfort, letting them linger on your lips for just a little too long.
You shrugged your shoulders in indecisiveness. You were hoping that you would come alive in a few minutes, that the tiredness would only last a little more. It's been long since you had the chance to go out with your friends and you didn't want to leave just yet.
"I just wish I wasn't tired." You leaned closer to him as he dipped his head in your direction so he could actually hear you.
As soon as he heard your words, an idea came to his mind, making a playful, teasing smirk show on his face. He was actually hoping he could get you alone sometime very soon, after watching you dance on the dancefloor. In his eyes every move of yours seemed sinful.
Feeling like this was his chance, he grabbed your hand and nodded with his head towards the back exit. You stood as he pulled your hand and started following him outside, closely behind him. The warm summer air hit you when you stepped outside, the oxygen already starting to make you feel more awake.
"Where are we going, Carlos?" You asked him when you reached his car in the parking lot. "You drank. You can't drive."
"Who said anything about driving, hermosa?" He raised his eyebrows as he reached into his pocket for his keys, unlocking the doors of his Alfa Romeo.
"Carlos..." You suddenly realised where his head was at, making your eyes widen in disbelief.
"Hm?" He opened the door and grinned when he saw your reaction. "It's not like we haven't done it before in a car."
When he saw indecisiveness taking over you again, he let go of the door handle and stepped closer to you, grabbing your face on both sides.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, it's just so...random."
"Random?"
"I didn't think this would be your solution."
"Do you want to? It's okay if not."
"I didn't say that."
"Then get in the car before someone sees us out here."
You quickly climbed in the back with him following behind you and shutting the door.
He reached for you right away and in a second his lips were already on yours. One of his hands cupped your cheek, while the other laid on your thigh, stroking it slowly and gripping it lightly. Your hands ended up in his soft, thick hair – out of habit by this point. When his tongue was about to enter your mouth, you broke the kiss.
"What if the others start looking for us?"
"Then they'll be looking for us." He leaned in, only for you to interrupt him again.
"I'm serious, Carlos."
"Good, me too." He breathed, but continued when he'd seen the unsatisfied look on your face. "I don't think they'll look for us. They're too drunk to notice we're not there anyway."
"But what if they find us? It's risky."
"It only makes it more fun, if you ask me." He whispered and leaned in again to press kisses onto the hot skin of your neck. "Plus...we're adults...and...we can do..." he said between kisses before he looked at your face and gave your lips a quick peck, "whatever we want to do."
"Okay, but be quick." You gave in to him.
His lips were on yours again in no second as his hands grabbed your hips and pulled you into his lap. Obeying your wish, he sped things up a tad. His fingers wandered under the fabric of you dress and started to tease you through your underwear. He softly caressed you through the thin fabric, knowing the effect this had on you.
Your hands wandered from his hair to his stubble-covered face and neck. The feeling of his fingers against you made you sigh. Trying to increase the feeling, you started moving your hips against his hand and the rough material of his jeans, easily being able to feel his hardness through them. Your actions made him groan deeply, his hand now resting on your butt.
Your fingers soon started working on his belt and the button and zipper of his jeans.
This time it was him who broke the kiss. He slightly raised his hips, trying to slide his trousers further down, along with his underwear. You quickly turned around to open the centre console box, reaching for a silver package. He took it from your hand, ripped it open with his teeth and rolled it down on himself with a quick movement. He lifted his gaze to your face as he looked for any signs to stop, your eyes meeting before a quick kiss.
His finger slid your panties to the side as you lifted your hips and took him in your hand to guide him. You tapped him against your clit and grinded on him to really work him up as much as you could. He threw his head back against the headrest as a heavy moan fell from his lips.
"Hermosa, por favor."
You lined him up with yourself and slid down on him slowly, letting yourself adjust to him, moans echoing around in the small space. He leaned in to kiss you again, his tongue entering your mouth. As you started moving up and down, sighs, heavy breaths, groans and moans became more frequent. His hands wandered from your cheeks to your hips, down to your ass, a firm grip on it. You tried to pick up the pace, but it wasn't too long 'til your thighs started to get tired. Carlos sensed your struggle, so he started moving his hips as well, thrusting up into you. You broke the kiss as a mixture of a whimper and a moan fell from your lips when you felt his movements first. His hands that were resting on your ass also tried to help you with the burning sensation in your thighs, as he helped you move up and down.
You got so lost in the way he completely took control in just a matter of seconds, you could already feel your climax getting closer and closer. The scent of him mixing with sweat filled your nose as the windows started fogging up. His hips moved just the right way, especially when he placed his hand on your back and pushed you into his chest, thursting into you at a new angle, constantly hitting your sweet spot. Your face was buried in the crook of his neck and you could barely stop moaning. The new angle made you lose your mind. The alcohol in your system didn't help either, so when an unexpected moan – or more like an unexpected name – sounded from your lips, you surprised yourself. Especially the man underneath you.
"What?" His hips stopped nearly immediately as he breathed heavily.
You lifted your head to look at him when you felt him stop, your brain barely being able to function and catch up with the last few seconds.
"What?" You breathed heavily as well, as you realised what you just said – the burning sensation not in your thighs anymore, but more like in your face, from the embarrassment.
"What did you say?"
"I didn't say anything."
"Why did you say his name?" Confusion sat on his face.
"I...I didn't. I said Carlos." You denied it, trying to convince rather yourself than him.
"No, you didn't."
"Yes, I did!" You looked at him, his expression giving away the fact that he heard you loud and clear. "Look, it just slipped out, I'm sorry."
He just sighed, not knowing how to react exactly.
A few moments of sitting in silence had passed before you slowly and carefully started caressing his lower arms and leaned in to place soft pecks on his neck, trying to reignite the mood. He remained still. You looked back up at him, a moody expression sitting on his face.
"I'm sorry, Carlos."
"Why did you say his name?" He asked again.
"It's nothing...it must've been because he texted me last week and we've been talking lately."
"Again? Do you remember what happened last time?"
"Yes, I do and I don't need a lecture. As you said, I'm an adult and I can do whatever I want."
"I'm just saying. It didn't end well last time and I don't want to see you like that again."
"We're not even back together!" You raised your voice a tad in frustration. "Nothing is going to happen. Now, can I move?"
"You're thinking about another man while I'm balls deep inside you. You can't really expect me to be okay with that."
"I mean, it's just sex. So why would you ever be jealous?"
"I'm not jealous, but this wouldn't boost any man's ego."
"I didn't mean to say his name, I promise. Just please, let me move."
His grip on your hips that held you from moving loosened after a few seconds, making you lift them slowly, before sinking back down. You couldn't help but gasp at the feeling, still sensitive. The look on Carlos' face didn't really change; he was determined not to let it. He didn't make a single noise as you moved your hips, his hands didn't wander over your body either.
"You really gonna give me the silent treatment?" You slowed down again, keeping the movement minimal on his lap. Your hands sneaked under his shirt, stroking his abs before you decided to undo the buttons. After the first three buttons were undone, you pressed open-mouthed kisses on his smooth, hot chest. Your fingers moved further down until there were no buttons left.
"What can I do to make you forget that, guapo?" Your lips reached his neck.
Before you could even blink you were already laying on your back on the leather seats with Carlos between your legs, possessiveness getting the best of him.
"Block him. And never talk to him again."
His hands gripped your waist to keep you in place as he started moving his hips. Your leg that was up against the headrests was suddenly laying on his shoulder, occasionally meeting the roof of his car. His lips came close to yours, giving you the impression of wanting to kiss you, only for him to pull away when you leaned in. He kept playing this game of back and forth, before moving down to your neck, his punishment for you is not letting you kiss him.
Your hands were gripping his strong forearms, the muscles hard beneath your fingers. The delicious angle had you moaning and whimpering under him, whilst he still wasn't being as vocal as he usually would be. It took you suddenly clenching around him for him to release a deep moan, startling him and making his rhythm irregular for a moment.
"Stop that."
"Stop what?" You looked at him with innocent eyes, right as you did it again.
"I won't say it again." He snapped his hips against yours harder, making you ride up on the seats. You gasped at his action, as you felt your climax building.
"Tell me who's making you feel this good, bontia?"
"You, papi."
"Who?"
"You, Carlos!" You said when you realised what he meant.
"Say it again." He picked up the pace.
His name fell from your lips repeatedly like a prayer as you were about to fall apart. You could tell he was getting close as well, judging by his grunts, heavy moans and his rapid pace.
"Carlos-" You squeezed out to let him know what he already knew. His hand started toying with your clit, making you lose your mind immediately. You came around him with a loud moan, nails leaving red lines and marks on his arms as your back arched into him. The feel of your constant clenching around his cock was more than enough for him; he buried his head in the crook of your neck as he came, a deep moan falling from his lips. His grip on your waist and thigh loosened after a few seconds as he slowed down, eventually stopping his movements and sliding your leg down from his shoulder.
He laid on top of you for a little as you both tried to catch your breaths, your fingers playing with his hair.
"We should go back inside." You whispered after a few minutes, when your heart rate was finally back at its natural pace.
Carlos lifted himself from you and pulled out gently. He adjusted your panties and lightly slapped your sensitive clit, making you gasp at the feeling. A smug smirk sat on his face as he took off the used condom, wrapped it in a tissue and tossed it on the floor of his car at the driver's seat. You quickly pulled your dress back down while he pulled up his underwear and buttoned his jeans. He was fidgeting with his belt when he spoke.
"I meant it when I told you to block him. He's not good for you."
"We just talked. That doesn't mean anything."
"It doesn't mean anything now, but it will later. Either you block him or this was our last time. I'm not watching you getting your heart broken by him again."
Seeing the serious look on his face, you took your phone from your bag that had fallen onto the floor and did as Carlos had asked.
"There you go. Happy?"
"Sí." He looked into your eyes as he was buttoning his shirt. "You deserve much better than that dickhead."
"You missed the first button." Your eyes traced over his shirt.
"Mierda." He muttered as he started unbuttoning what he had just buttoned. You watched the entire process – quite entertained – but stopped him when he was about to start over, grabbing the wrong button again.
"No, let me." Your fingers started working as you felt his eyes staring. "I'm sorry again."
"It happens, I guess." He shrugged his shoulders.
"Still, I'm sorry. It won't happen again...I don't even understand how it did, honestly. You're much better than he could ever be." You whispered and leaned in to kiss him.
"Yeah?" He murmured into the kiss.
"Mhmm."
"Good." His hands cupped your cheeks as the kiss deepened. Your hand got lost in his hair way too easily again, tugging on it softly in the heat of the moment, which earned a moan from him. "Mmm, Isa."
You broke the kiss and swatted his arm when you realised what he was doing, making him chuckle.
"Stop it."
"I'm just kidding, hermosa. Let's go back inside before they really start looking for us."
320 notes · View notes
cr-komi · 9 months
Text
"The Distance Between Us"
Summary: You sent nudes to the biggest fuckboy on campus, what could possibly go wrong?
Pairing: Min Yoongi X Female Reader
Genre: Smut, a very very small amount of fluff at the end.
Word Count: 12,400+
Warnings: Y/N is an absolute idiot, Yoongi is kind of a dick at the beginning, swearing, oral (male & female receiving), unprotected sex (don't do this, please!) missionary pos., multiple orgasms.
Author's Note: This is not proofread so I apologize if there are mistakes! This one took me forever to write because I kept having writer's block and wanted to change a bunch of it but this was the final result so I hope you all like it!
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Come on, Y/N, just send it.
It'll be like ripping off a Band-Aid.
He'll like you even more if you do this.
It's only a picture, right?
Just a blurry mix of pixels and saturation, nothing more, nothing less.
His text glared back at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. You stared at the message, contemplating every word, feeling the weight of his request pressing against your chest,
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You didn't know who he was, not really. You didn't even know his name, although his phone number was engraved into your memory after seeing it so many times, tracing all the way back to that random evening a few weeks ago. But there was something about his mysterious aura that drew you in, like a moth to a flame. You couldn't resist the temptation to unravel the enigma that was him.
---
You sat in your dimly lit room, legs curled up beneath you as the soft glow of your phone illuminated your face. The familiar pang of jealousy twisted in your stomach as you obsessively scrolled through Instagram, unable to tear yourself away from the seemingly perfect lives of your friends and acquaintances.
"Ugh, another vacation?" You muttered, glaring at the screen as you saw a picture--a perfect couple sipping cocktails on a pristine beach. "Of course, they're all smiles."
Your thumb swiped upward, revealing another post showcasing an enviable group of friends laughing and posing together. Their happiness felt so unattainable, further highlighting the loneliness that had become your constant companion.
"Must be nice," You whispered, voice laced with bitterness.
Your eyes scanned the screen, taking in the meticulously curated feed that presented a world you could only dream of inhabiting.
Just as your frustration reached its peak, a flicker of light caught your attention. It was a text message notification, appearing like an oasis in the digital desert you found yourself trapped in.
Eager for any distraction, you tapped the screen, feeling a flutter of hope that maybe it was someone reaching out to you,
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A simple greeting was plastered across the screen, accompanied by an unfamiliar number. Your brow furrowed as you stared at the unknown sender. Confusion gnawed at you, and you hesitated before replying,
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As you typed, your fingers moved cautiously across the screen before hitting send, taking a deep breath while waiting for a response.
The reply came almost instantly,
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You scoffed. Whoever this was, they seemed ignorant, and you decided to play along,
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You tilted your head back, attempting to recall any instance of sharing your number, but your memory failed you. How did this random stranger end up with your contact information when you couldn't remember giving it to them?
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Your heart began to pound at his reply, fingertips hovering above the screen. "Is this some kind of prank?" you mumbled, mind racing with possibilities. Was it someone from school trying to mess with you? You haven't talked to Jungkook since your freshman year of college when he was your partner for a science project, why would he give your number out?
You couldn't shake off the feeling of intrigue and curiosity that coursed through your veins. Despite the skepticism that crept into your mind, a part of you wanted to believe that this encounter held some sort of significance. Perhaps it was a twist of fate, an unexpected connection waiting to be unveiled.
With hesitant determination, you decided to take a leap of faith and continue the conversation. The prospect of embarking on something new, something beyond the confines of your monotonous daily routine, enticed you. After all, what harm could it do?
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You sighed, contemplating why Jungkook would be giving your number out, or how he even got it in the first place.
Your mind craved to uncover the truth behind this mysterious text conversation, even if it meant stepping into unknown territory,
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You stared blankly at your phone, eager for a reply, but you were met with only silence. Minutes stretched into hours, and still no response came. Doubt began to creep in, mingling with the confusion that had settled in your mind. Maybe this was all just a cruel joke, a ploy to toy with your emotions.
But something inside you refused to believe that. There was an inkling of curiosity, a flicker of hope that urged you to hold on a little longer. So you waited, your eyes never straying far from your phone.
Days had turned into weeks, and yet the mysterious sender remained silent. The initial excitement had waned, leaving behind a sense of disappointment that weighed heavily on your shoulders. You couldn't help but wonder if you had been foolish for getting caught up in this unknown person's game.
The idea of giving up on waiting for a response finally began to creep in, but just as you were about to delete the number and move on, a notification jolted your phone awake. You hesitated, your finger hovering over the screen, afraid to hope again.
With a deep breath, you finally slid your finger across the screen, unlocking the message. Your heart sunk down into your stomach as you read the words that appeared before you,
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Fuck.
--- Ever since the day he asked if you sent nudes, you had been giving yourself over to him, allowing him to slowly chip away at your self-worth. Each time he asked, you obliged, sending him a piece of yourself captured through the lens of your phone. It started as something simple, maybe a picture of your cleavage or the curve of your ass, just as you had convinced yourself in the beginning. But with each photo sent, you felt a piece of your soul fade, replaced by an emptiness that gnawed at you from the inside out.
You desperately craved his validation, his affection, believing that if you gave him what he wanted, he would finally see your worth. But no matter how many pictures you sent, it was never enough. He always asked for more. More skin, more vulnerability, more pieces of you to devour.
With every photo, you hoped for a different reaction from him - one that acknowledged your value as more than just pixels and saturation. But all he ever responded with were simple words of praise and shallow compliments that never reached beyond the surface.
You were losing yourself in the process, your identity becoming reduced to a series of explicit images sent through a screen. Each picture felt like a betrayal to your own integrity, yet you continued to send them, hoping that this time would be different, that this time he would finally see you.
But deep down, you knew the truth. He didn't truly care about you. You were nothing more than his object of desire, a means to fulfill his own selfish needs. The more pictures you sent, the more power he held over you.
You found yourself sitting on the edge of your bed, phone in hand, tears streaming down your face as you stared at his latest text message. It was as if a veil had been lifted from your eyes, revealing the harsh reality of what this relationship had become. You were nothing more than an object to him, a means to fulfill his desires without any regard for your own well-being.
The weight of his words pressed upon your chest, suffocating you with the realization that you had lost yourself in this desperate quest for validation. The vibrant colors of your world had faded into shades of gray, and you yearned to break free from the suffocating grip he had on your emotions.
There was a fire burning deep within you, a fire of anger and resentment that you had been trying to suppress for far too long. It was time to let it out, to confront him and put an end to this vicious cycle you had been caught in. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the confrontation that lay ahead, and that begun with asking Jungkook why he was giving your number away.
---
You spotted him on campus his familiar figure standing near the brick wall of the main building, a smirk playing on his lips as he chatted with the same group of friends he was always with, their laughter echoing through the air. It was a scene you had witnessed countless times before.
His presence sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of annoyance and frustration coursing through your veins. You felt a surge of anger rise within you, fueling your determination to confront him. With each step closer, your heart pounded louder in your ears, drowning out the noise of passing students and the rustling leaves overhead. Pushing through the crowd, you made your way toward him, ignoring the curious glances from passersby.
As you approached, Jungkook's eyes met yours, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before being replaced by his signature nonchalant expression. His friends noticed your arrival too, their conversations dying down as they turned their attention to the unfolding scene.
"Jungkook!" you called out, your voice stronger than you had anticipated. His attention snapped towards you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked you up and down.
"Y/N, right? Shit, I haven't talked to you in awhile. How have you be--"
"Have you been giving my number out?" You interrupted, your voice dripping with anger. His attempt at casual conversation only fueled your frustration. You crossed your arms, staring him down with unyielding determination.
Jungkook's expression shifted, a hint of guilt clouding his features for a moment. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. "Look, if this is about the text messages--"
"Of course it is," you snapped, your voice laced with bitterness. "What else would it be about? You're the one who gave my number away without my permission!"
Jungkook's friends exchanged uneasy glances, sensing the tension between the two of you. Jungkook ran a hand through his tousled hair, his gaze shifting to the ground beneath him.
"I didn't think it would be a big deal," he muttered, barely meeting your eyes, "he told me I wanted it so I gave it to him."
Your jaw dropped at his words, a mix of anger and disbelief bubbling up inside you. How could he so casually dismiss your privacy and consent? How could he believe that just because someone wanted your number, it was okay to give it away without your permission?
"Who are you talking about? Who did you even give my number out to?"
"Does it really matter?" Jungkook replied, his voice laced with irritation. "It's not like it's a big deal. You're making a fuss out of nothing."
"Jungkook, it absolutely matters!" you exclaimed, your voice tinged with a mixture of anger and hurt. "You violated my privacy. You had no right to give out my number without my consent."
Jungkook nodded, glancing around nervously before finally meeting your gaze, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's Yoongi," he confessed, his eyes filled with remorse, "He said he knew you from one of your classes and wanted to get to know you better."
Jungkook's words hung in the air, like a heavy weight on your shoulders. You could feel the blood rushing to your face, your heart pounding in your chest. How could he trust Yoongi with your personal information without even asking you?
"Yoongi?" You echoed, feeling a strange mix of relief and betrayal. "Why would he ask for my number in the first place?"
Jungkook hesitated, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "I don't know, Y/N. If you want to figure it out, ask him, he's over there."
Taking a deep breath, you turned your attention towards where Jungkook had gestured. Your eyes fell upon a figure standing a few feet away, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. His expression was unreadable, a flicker of in his eyes of something you couldn't quite put your finger on.
As soon as he met your gaze, he smirked, walking off in a crowd of students with an air of nonchalance. Your anger and frustration intensified as you watched Yoongi disappear into the distance, leaving you with more questions than answers.
"Thank you, Jungkook." You mumbled, but before he could offer a response, you turned on your heel and began to chase after Yoongi, set on confronting him and demanding an explanation. Those who surrounded you parted ways as you weaved through the crowd, your heart pounding in your chest, fueling your determination to catch up to him.
The campus was bustling with students going about their day, but you barely registered their presence. Your focus was solely on finding Yoongi and demanding an explanation for his actions. As you made your way through the crowd, the image of his smirking face played over and over in your mind, intensifying your frustration and boldness.
You clenched your fists as you trailed behind Yoongi across the college campus, leaves crunching underfoot.
Your heart pounded in your chest, fueled by anger and determination. You had been following him for what felt like hours – down crowded halls, past classrooms filled with students, even into a noisy cafeteria where you had to duck behind a vending machine to avoid detection, and although he had looked behind him numerous times during the journey, your remained unnoticed.
You watched as he strolled casually, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his faded denim jacket, apparently oblivious to your presence. But every time you thought you were about to catch up to him, he would disappear around a corner or slip through a door, leaving you becoming increasingly more and more frustrated.
As you navigated through the labyrinthine campus, your mind raced. Why had he texted you in the first place? What kind of person asks someone for nudes out of the blue? And how could you have been so stupid as to trust him?
With so many questions running through your mind, you became distracted, losing sight of him yet again.
Frustrated, you gave up and retreated to the library, the closest place you could find after travelling on foot for so long.
The hushed atmosphere there was a welcome respite from the chaos of your pursuit, and you sank into a plush armchair near the back, your eyes scanning the shelves aimlessly.
And that's when you saw him.
Yoongi was standing in the history section, a heavy tome clutched in one hand.
Sighing, he glanced up and locked eyes with you, his face paling visibly. Before he could react, you stormed over, grabbing his wrist so as to not let him escape you again.
"Yoongi, why did you text me? Why did you even ask Jungkook for my number in the first place?" You demanded, your voice barely more than a whisper but seething with fury. "Why did you ask me for nudes?"
He blinked at you, his expression a mixture of confusion and irritation. "Why are you even upset?" he countered, his voice low and measured. "You're the one who sent them."
"So? You shouldn't have asked for them in the first place." You hissed, your anger boiling over.
"You shouldn't have sent them." He retorted, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Look, it doesn't even matter at this point just--"
"Keep your voice down," he interrupted, glancing nervously around the library.
"No! You need to hear this," you yelled, forgetting your surroundings as your emotions took control. "You had no right to ask for those pictures, and then to turn around and act like it's no big deal? It's disgusting!"
Annoyed by your yelling, Yoongi grabbed your arm with surprising force and pulled you through the maze of bookshelves.
"Yoongi, what are you--"
"Be quiet."
You struggled against him, but he didn't relent until the two of you stumbled into a cramped supply closet. Slamming the door shut behind him, he released you, his face a mask of frustration and something else you could fully recognize.
"Listen," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You didn't have to send those pictures if you didn't want to, and I mean...I'm sorry for asking for nudes but I won't lie," he leaned in close, his warm breath brushing against your cheek, "you looked pretty damn good in every single one."
And so, you stood there, back against the door, his words washing over you like a tidal wave. For a moment, you couldn't find your voice - he was right. You had sent those pictures. You were the one who had been so flattered by his attention that you had forgotten about boundaries and given in to his request with such reckless abandon. But that still didn't give him the right to use them as he pleased! You pushed past him and walked out of the closet, trying to compose yourself.
As you stepped out, the library came rushing back into view, filled with students hushed amidst their studies. You couldn't help but feel self-conscious as everyone's eyes turned towards you as if they knew what had just gone down in the supply closet. Your face burned under their scrutiny as you tried to make your way back to your seat without making eye contact with anyone.
But before you could take a step, a strong hand gripped your wrist once again and spun you around to face Yoongi. His eyes bored into yours with unwavering intensity, his jaw tightened as he spoke lowly; "Look... I know I messed up." He paused, stepping closer, his eyes boring into yours are he spoke, "but you sent them to me, Y/N, and I didn't force you. You could have stopped me at any time, but you didn't. And for what it's worth, I never meant to hurt you. I just thought...actually, you know what? It doesn't matter."
He let go of your wrist and turned away, walking towards the stacks of books on the shelves nearby as if nothing had happened. You watched him go with a mixture of emotions churning inside of you. He was right, of course. You did send those pictures willingly. It would be your fault if they got out.
How could you be so fucking stupid? Why did you think any of this would be a good idea?
You couldn't shake the feeling that something about his apology felt half-hearted, like he was only saying what he thought you wanted to hear. But still, a small part of you yearned for him to be sincere.
---
The twilight seeped through the gauzy curtains, casting a lavender hue over your room where you sat, knees drawn up to your chest on the window seat. Outside, the world was softening into dusk, but inside, a storm brewed within you. Your eyes were fixed vacantly on the snow that began to layer on the window pane, mirroring the turmoil in your heart.
"Yoongi," you murmured under your breath, the words tasting bitter. The memory of your encounter with him was like a splinter—sharp, intrusive, and impossible to ignore. You replayed your last conversation over and over, each iteration twisting the knife a little deeper.
What had you expected? For him to suddenly understand? To apologize?
"Focus on something else, anything else," you chided yourself, uncurling from your perch.
You moved towards your cluttered desk, where an array of distractions awaited: unread books, sketches half-done, a guitar that hadn't felt the warmth of your touch in days. Your fingers hovered over a novel, its spine still creased with promise. But even as you pulled it toward yourself, the printed words blurred, drowned out by the echo of Yoongi's voice.
"Of course," you scoffed, tossing the book aside with a soft thud against the hardwood floor. "Books are no refuge when your mind is this loud."
You walked over to the mirror, studying your reflection—as if searching for an answer in the contours of your own face. With a sigh, you reached up, freeing your hair from its ponytail. Strands fell around your shoulders like dark silk, a curtain to hide behind.
"Maybe I'll just go to sleep," you said to your mirrored self, "sleep it off and wake up with a fresh head."
But as you turned away from the mirror, your phone buzzed atop the nightstand, an invasive vibration that commanded attention. You hesitated, a small part of you hoping, dreading. Your hand shook slightly as you picked it up. The screen lit up, and there it was—a message from Yoongi,
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It was simple. A casual, stark contrast to the chaos he'd stirred in you. Just three letters, yet they held the weight of a thousand unsaid words.
"Hey?" You repeated aloud, a laugh without humor escaping your lips. "After everything, all he can say is 'hey'?"
Your thumb hovered over the keyboard, indecision warring with the urge to respond. To lash out or to leave it be? But beneath the hurt and confusion, a sliver of hope glimmered—the kind that refused to be extinguished even by the fiercest storm.
"Is this supposed to be some kind of olive branch, Min Yoongi?" You whispered, the beginning of a response forming beneath your breath,
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His reply came almost instantly,
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As you weighed Yoongi's message, you mulled over the possibility that he might be sincere this time. He had apologized, and now he wanted to meet at a cafe. Was this his way to make amends? Or was it just another one of his schemes to get you to do something?
"Just do it, Y/N," You told yourself, "you never know what's going to happen."
With a resolute nod, you decided that now was as good a time as any.
Y/N stood in her cramped bedroom, her breath fogging the windowpane as she looked out at the snow-dusted street below. She was about to do something she'd been dreading for days – meet Yoongi at the cafe. Her heart raced with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. With a resolute nod, you decided that now was as good a time as any.
"Right. Let's do this," she murmured to herself.
It was bitterly cold outside, but you didn't feel like making an effort to dress up for the occasion. Instead, you pulled on a cozy grey hoodie and a pair of comfortable black sweatpants. They were simple, but warm enough for the short walk to the cafe.
As you stepped outside, the chill hit you like a physical force. You shivered, burying your face in the soft fabric of your hoodie and pulling the drawstrings tight. The wind whipped around you, biting at your exposed cheeks and turning them pink. Despite the cold, you couldn't help but appreciate the beauty of the frost-covered trees and the crunch of ice beneath your boots.
Upon arriving at the cafe, your heart skipped a beat when you saw him through the window – Yoongi, sitting alone at a small table near the back, fingers tapping impatiently against his coffee cup.
You hesitated for a moment, swallowing hard. There was something undeniably magnetic about him, even from this distance.
As you pushed open the door and made your way over to his table, you felt an unsettling warmth blossoming within her chest. It was strange, feeling drawn to someone who had caused so much turmoil in your life. But here you were, unable to look away from his dark eyes and strong jawline.
"Yoongi," you said softly, your voice wavering slightly as you took the seat across from him.
"Y/N," he replied, barely looking up from his coffee. But when he did, his gaze seemed to take you in with an intensity that made you shiver. There was a hunger in his eyes that you'd never seen before in anyone – lust, perhaps?
"Um, so," you stammered, struggling to regain your composure and focus on the task at hand. "What did you...want to talk about...?"
"Well..." he began, his voice low and smooth as he leaned back in his chair, never breaking eye contact.
Your mind raced with thoughts and emotions, trying to find the right words to express how you felt about everything. You knew you had to face him, and move forward. But with every second spent in Yoongi's presence, you found herself increasingly drawn to him, despite everything he'd done.
"Yoongi, I—" you started, but couldn't finish, swallowing hard as you struggled to compose herself.
"Go on," he urged, a slight smirk appearing on his lips as if he knew exactly what was going through your mind.
You hesitated, biting your lip nervously, but then steeled yourself. Your words tumbled out in a rush, "I-I don't know what you want from me, Yoongi. Are you really sorry, or is this just another game to you? Because I can't do this anymore, I can't keep feeling like this, like I'm being played."
Yoongi's smirk faded, and his eyes softened. He lowered his gaze for a moment before looking back up at you, his voice sincere when he spoke, "That's...actually why I asked you here tonight. I wanted to apologize for everything. Y/N...I-I'm so sorry. I never should have asked you for those nudes."
You avoided his eyeline, instead averting your gaze towards the floor, "Why...why did you ask me for them? It's not like you knew me before we even started texting and I--"
"Yes, I did, actually." He interrupted, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice, "I saw you at a party a few months ago a-and...Jungkook gave me your number. Don't ask me why he had it because honestly...I don't know. I wanted to talk to you but I-I just thought it would be better to text you."
You noticed the slight stutter in his voice and the way his fingers played with the edge of the table, betraying his nervousness.
Taking a deep breath, you took a moment before responding, "So you were talking to me all this time, knowing who I was?"
"Yes," he admitted, his shame evident in his eyes. "But it doesn't excuse how I acted, Y/N. I know that. I'm so sorry. If there's any way I can make it up to you, let me know. Please."
It was difficult for you to hear him say those words, but as he explained himself, something inside you began to crack. It wasn't forgiveness, but it was understanding, at least.
You looked at him, trying to decipher his words and find the truth behind them. "Why did you do it, Yoongi?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
He sighed, rubbing his temples in frustration. "I...I don't know. I guess I thought it would be a way to get closer to you, or at least have some kind of connection. But it was wrong, and I'm sorry."
Your heart ached as you stared into his eyes, seeing the sincerity in his words. You knew this wasn't the end of your struggles, but maybe it was the beginning of something different.
"Thank you for the apology. I'm sorry too, I never should have sent anything to begin with."
You bit your lip, trying to gather your thoughts, but you didn't have anything else to say, so you remained silent.
Yoongi looked down at the table, his dark hair falling into his eyes, "If it's okay with you..." He began, avoiding your gaze, "I-I want to get to know you better."
You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say. Did you trust him? Could you let go of the past and move forward?
Taking a deep breath, you finally spoke, "Okay, Yoongi. Let's start over. But we're not doing anything like that again."
A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, a hint of relief in his eyes, "I understand. I won't push you, Y/N. I just...I'm so sorry."
"I-- it's fine, really."
And with that, you both sat in silence for a while, contemplating the new path that lay ahead of you. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but maybe it was worth a try.
---
It had been three months since you went to the café with Yoongi.
You found a new normal in your relationship, and although trust wasn't rebuilt overnight, you both were committed to fixing what had been broken.
The air between you and Yoongi had shifted. Instead of the tension and mistrust that had previously existed, there was now an underlying understanding and appreciation for each other's flaws and mistakes.
You appreciated how considerate Yoongi was, never pushing your boundaries or rushing things. Instead, he made an effort to listen intently, offering support and understanding as you opened up about your feelings and fears. It felt like the door to your heart was gradually creaking open, allowing the light of a blossoming bond to seep in.
One evening, you found yourself immersed in your studies at the library, the soft rustle of turning pages and hushed whispers creating a cocoon of tranquility around you.
Suddenly, your focus was interrupted by a gentle tap on your shoulder, causing your heart to skip a beat. You looked up to find Yoongi standing beside your table, his eyes crinkling as he offered his gummy smile that caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach.
"Hey," he said softly, like a lullaby whispered into the night. "I thought I might find you here."
"Yoongi!" You exclaimed, happiness bubbling up within your chest. "I wasn't expecting to see you tonight. What brings you to the library?"
"Call it intuition," he replied, his voice tinged with amusement. "I had a feeling you'd be here, studying late like always."
You chuckled, gaze drifting back to the stacks of books and papers spread out before you. "You know me too well," you murmured, feeling a twinge of embarrassment at your disorganized workspace.
"Indeed, I do," Yoongi agreed, his eyes lingering on your face. "But, I also know that you deserve a break. How about we head to my place and just relax for a bit?"
You hesitated, the thought of leaving your studies unfinished gnawing at you, but you couldn't deny the allure of spending time with Yoongi away from the pressures of academia.
You glanced back at him, his eyes filled with sincerity and warmth, and you made your decision, "Alright," you conceded with a smile. "Let me just pack up my things."
"Take your time," Yoongi replied, pulling out a chair and sitting down across from you. The simple action spoke volumes – he was in no hurry, willing to wait as long as it took for you to feel comfortable. It was moments like these that reminded you of how far the two of you have come in rebuilding trust, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for the second chance you'd given him.
As the two of you walked out of the library together, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, the snowfall had eased to a near halt as the two of you began your trek back to his apartment, leaving behind an untouched blanket of white in your wake.
The cold air stung your cheeks, but neither you nor Yoongi seemed to mind it much as you walked – the world felt hushed, almost magical.
"Is it always this beautiful?" you asked, your voice soft and breathy as you watched the last flakes fall from the sky.
"Sometimes," Yoongi replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I think it's just the right kind of weather for tonight."
Your steps fell in sync with each other, crunching softly against the snow beneath your feet. The streetlights cast warm, amber halos on the frosted ground, creating a comforting contrast against the winter chill.
"Tell me about your work," you suggested, curiosity piquing your interest. Yoongi had mentioned his desire to become a music producer during your conversations, but you wanted to learn more.
"Ah, well," he began, a modest smile gracing his lips. "I've been working on this new project lately – it's got a different vibe than what I usually do. But that's what makes it exciting."
"Sounds fascinating," you commented sincerely. "I can't wait to hear it when it's finished."
"Hopefully you'll like it," Yoongi replied, his eyes shining with gratitude at your enthusiasm.
As you approached his apartment building, you couldn't help but feel a slight surge of nerves. It was the first time you would be stepping into Yoongi's personal space, and there was an undeniable intimacy in that. You glanced over at him, wondering if he could sense your apprehension. However, his gaze remained fixed on the entrance, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.
"Here we are," Yoongi announced as you walked into the warm, well-lit lobby. The sudden change in temperature made you shiver slightly, your body trying to adapt.
"Nice place," you commented, trying to sound casual despite the butterflies in your stomach.
"Thanks," Yoongi replied, leading you toward the elevator. The ride up was quiet, the both of you lost in your own thoughts as you anticipated what might happen once the two of you were alone in his apartment.
When you finally entered Yoongi's space, you couldn't help but take it all in – the minimalist furniture, the impressive collection of vinyl records along one wall, and the cozy atmosphere that seemed to envelop the entire room. It felt like a sanctuary, a reflection of Yoongi himself.
"Make yourself at home," he offered kindly, gesturing toward the comfortable-looking couch.
"Thank you," you whispered, suddenly aware of just how intimate this moment was. You were standing in his apartment, seeing a side of him few people had ever been privy to. And as you took a seat on his couch, feeling the warmth of the cushions beneath you, you knew that you wanted to learn even more about the enigmatic man who had captured your interest.
"Would you like something to drink?" Yoongi asked, his voice soft yet inviting. His eyes, a rich dark chocolate color, held curiosity and a touch of shyness, reflecting his guarded nature.
"Sure, do you have any wine?" You replied.
You enjoyed how the warmth of the room seemed to embrace you, making you feel comfortable. It was a rare feeling for you, considering your own life and surroundings were often chaotic.
"Of course," Yoongi said with a subtle smile. He disappeared into the kitchen area, returning moments later holding two glasses filled with the familiar deep red liquid. He carefully handed one to you before taking a seat across from you on the couch.
"Thanks." You took a sip, savoring the smooth taste of the wine as it slid down your throat.
You noticed the way the moonlight that streamed through the windows caught the glass, creating a dazzling array of colors that danced along the edges.
"You're welcome." Yoongi raised his own glass and took a small sip. His gaze lingered on the window, seeming to find solace in the familiar sight.
"Your apartment is really lovely," You said earnestly, hoping to ease the initial tension between the both of you. "It has such a unique vibe."
"Thank you. I've put a lot of time and effort into making it my own little sanctuary," Yoongi admitted with a small smile. "I'm glad you like it."
As the two of you continued to chat, you both discovered shared interests and common ground – your love for music, your desire to create something meaningful, and the challenges you both faced in your pursuit of happiness.
With each revelation, the space between both of you seemed to shrink, and you found herself drawn to Yoongi's quiet intensity.
"Sometimes," Yoongi said, pausing to choose his words carefully, "it feels like life is a constant battle against time and expectations. It's hard to find moments like this, where you can just be yourself without any judgment."
You nodded in agreement, feeling a pang of empathy for the man sitting before you. "I know exactly what you mean. It's easy to get lost in the noise and lose sight of who you really are."
"Exactly." Yoongi's eyes met yours, and you're struck by the sincerity you see there. "But sometimes, it's in those quiet moments that we can truly find ourselves."
You couldn't help but be moved by the sincerity in Yoongi's words, and as the silence fell between you both, you found your gaze drifting towards the window again. The snow had stopped, leaving a blanket of white that seemed to silence the world outside.
"It's amazing how peaceful everything can be when it snows," you remarked, your voice barely above a whisper. "It makes you feel like anything is possible."
Yoongi nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "It's a reminder that sometimes, we need to slow down and appreciate the beauty of the world around us."
You smiled, silently agreeing before looking around the living room, taking more of it in, "I can't believe we've known each other for as long as we have but I've never been to your apartment until now."
"Same goes for me," Yoongi replied, a hint of amusement in his voice, "It's kind of funny to think about how we even became friends."
You scoffed, "It's funny now. But, I wouldn't have it any other way. I still have your contact name as the same thing it was when you first texted me, though."
Yoongi tilted his head in confusion, "What do you mean?"
"It's still just your phone number. For some reason...I don't know I just like it that way."
Yoongi chuckled lightly, shaking his head in amusement. "That's...quite possibly the most strange yet charming thing I've heard today." He took another sip of his wine, the warmth spreading through his body as he savored the taste.
"Is that so?"
He nodded, smiling.
"Well, maybe I should change it then." You pulled out your phone, navigating to your contacts. "What should I change it to?"
"Nah," he began, putting his wine glass down before scooting towards you, "let me do it," he said playfully, snatching the phone from your grasp. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he held your phone aloft, just out of your reach. "Besides, I want to pick my own emoji."
"Give it back!" You laughed, your cheeks flushed with excitement as your reached for your phone. Your heart raced at your playful banter, something you had grown to cherish during your time with Yoongi.
"Uh-uh, not until I'm done," he teased, his tongue peeking out between his lips in a cheeky grin. He leaned to one side, keeping the phone firmly out of your grasp.
Your determination grew, and you leaned over him, stretching your arm out as far as possible.
Your fingertips brushed against the edge of your phone, but Yoongi shifted his weight again, a triumphant smirk on his face.
"Yoongi, seriously!" You huffed, laughter bubbling up despite your feigned annoyance.
"Fine, fine," he relented, bringing the phone down just enough for you to snatch it back. In your eagerness, you accidentally ended up leaning too far forward straddling him in the process, your thighs pressing against his hips.
You both froze, suddenly aware of your intimate position.
Your eyes locked, and the room seemed to fall silent around the two of you.
Your heart pounded in your chest, the proximity making you all too aware of the heat radiating from Yoongi's body.
You noticed the way his breath hitched in his throat, and the way his pupils dilated as the two of you continued to stare at each other.
A minute crawled by, every second feeling like an eternity as a thousand emotions swirled within you. Your mind raced with questions, doubts, and desires, and you could see the same turmoil reflected in Yoongi's eyes.
It was only when you felt a tremble in your hands that you realized what you were doing.
Face burning, you began moving your hips slightly in an attempt to get off of him, "Shit, Yoongi, I-I'm so sorry."
Although the movement you made caused a friction beneath you, and Yoongi froze, eyes widening, "W-wait, Y/N, stop...stop moving."
"What?" You stuttered, looking at him with wide eyes. "Why?"
His hands slid down to your waist in an attempt to hold you in place, "Just...stop." He managed to get out, his voice low and rough. "Don't move, please."
As you froze in place, it dawned on you that Yoongi's hands had now settled in a more intimate position on your hips, his fingers gently gripping your sides. You could feel his breath against your skin as his eyes locked onto yours, his expression filled with a mix of desire and fear.
"Y-Yoongi, I--" You moved again in another attempt to get off him, flustered.
"Fuck..." He groaned, allowing his head to fall back, and suddenly, you felt something underneath you.
A shiver ran down your spine as you realized what it was - his erection pressing right up against the heat of your core.
In fear and confusion, you pushed his hands off your waist, abruptly standing up before him, "I-I should go," you began, rubbing your hands against your sides in an attempt to wipe the sweat off of them, "I'll see you later?"
Yoongi watched as you quickly gathered your things and stood up from his couch, his heart pounding in his chest as he struggled to find the right words. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, and he could feel the heat radiating from your body as your cheeks flushed red.
"Y/N, wait..." Yoongi's voice was hoarse, his eyes pleading as he reached for your hand. But you were already turning to leave the room, the weight of your words heavy on your tongue.
---
You avoided Yoongi for the next few days, his calls, his texts, everything.
You immersed yourself in your schoolwork, dedicating less time to visiting the library, as a means to escape the burden that this situation had imposed on you.
But as the days went by, you found yourself thinking about him more and more. About the heat of his touch, the desires you both had felt in that moment. You knew it had been an accident, but you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more between you and Yoongi.
---
"You need to talk to him, Y/N."
"I-I know," you began, rubbing your temples, "but I have no idea where to start, I mean I just walked out on him, he probably hates me."
You and your best friend, Mina, had been sitting together in your apartment while you sulked over Yoongi, trying to figure out how you would speak to him again. Mina had been your rock through thick and thin, and now she was determined to help you out of this mess.
"Just think about it, Y/N. You owe it to yourself to at least try and resolve this. You can't just let things remain the way they are."
You nodded, biting your lip in frustration. "You're right, Mina. I just...I don't know where to start."
Mina smiled, placing her hand on your shoulder. "Well, you could start by sending him a message. You know, just a simple olive branch to let him know you're willing to talk."
"But...I walked out on him. I can't just text him after all that," you threw your face into your hands, "I feel so bad."
"Look Y/N," Mina began, "I know you feel bad but if you don't think that a text or a call is the right thing to do, then...I don't know what to say."
You scoffed, "Wow, thanks, that really puts things into perspective."
Mina laughed lightly, trying to lighten the mood. "Alright, alright. But seriously, you need to figure out what you want to do, Y/N. It's been a few days, and if you don't make a move, you could lose him all together."
"I know, I know, you're right."
"Of course I am." Mina got up from where she was sitting, a soft smile on her face, "I have to go, but keep me updated."
"I will."
---
You lay restless in your bed, moonlight casting silver shadows on the walls. The clock's red digits flickered to 12:00 A.M., taunting you with each passing second. Sleep remained elusive, for Yoongi's face flickered behind your closed eyes, his laughter echoing in your ears.
You couldn't shake the feeling that their misunderstanding had driven a wedge between them.
Why did you have to fuck everything up?
"Damn it," you muttered under your breath, tossing and turning, your tangled sheets a testament to your inner turmoil.
You clenched your jaw, willing yourself to find a solution to mend your fractured friendship with Yoongi. Desperation bubbled up within you until it burst like a geyser, propelling you out of bed.
"Fuck this," you hissed, flinging the covers off your body. With a newfound determination, you slipped into sweatpants and a hoodie, the fabric comforting against your skin.
You rummaged through the darkness, fingers closing around the familiar leather of your coat.
Your heart pounded like a drum as you prepared to step out into the cold night air, fueled by the need to speak with Yoongi and set things right.
You made your way through the hallway, and out the door of your apartment, each step setting a path towards your journey outside.
The cold winter night had wrapped its icy fingers around the city, but your determination burned like a fire inside your chest.
As you walked towards Yoongi's apartment, your breath condensed into fleeting clouds that disappeared as quickly as they were born.
You glanced around, taking in the peaceful serenity of the snow-covered streets, the faint glow of the streetlights casting long shadows.
"Just talk to him, Y/N," you muttered under your breath, your words barely audible over the sound of your boots crunching on the snow beneath your feet.
When you finally arrived at the building, you rushed through the lobby without so much as a glance at the receptionist who looked up from her desk, startled by your sudden entrance.
The receptionist called after you, "Wait! Ma'am!" but you were already pressing the elevator button with impatience, your thoughts consumed by the urgency to reach Yoongi and set things straight.
"Out of order?" you read aloud, voice trembling with frustration. The sign taped to the elevator door mocked you, leaving you with no choice but to turn to the stairwell.
You hesitated for a moment, staring up at the seemingly endless flights of stairs. Yoongi lived on the highest floor, and the thought of climbing all the way up there was daunting. But the fire inside you continued to rage, and you knew there was no turning back now.
"Alright then," you whispered to yourself, taking a deep breath before dashing up the stairs, utterly determined.
Your heart pounded in your ears as you hurried up flight after flight, ignoring the burning sensation in your legs. Each step brought you closer to Yoongi, closer to the confrontation you knew the both of you desperately needed.
Finally, gasping for breath, you reached the top and stood outside Yoongi's door. You raised your fist and banged on it forcefully, your voice raised in desperation, "Yoongi, I need to talk to you,"
Silence. You could feel the heaviness of it pressing down on you, but you refused to let it deter you.
"Yoongi! Open the door, please I know you're in there," you spoke again, louder this time.
The door finally swung open, revealing Yoongi's tired and weary face. As your eyes met, you saw a sadness in his that you had never seen before, and it threatened to extinguish the fire inside you.
"Y/N," he whispered, his voice barely audible, "what are you doing here?"
"Can I come in?"
With a sigh, he lowered his head, but he stepped aside from the doorframe, creating room for you to enter.
"What do you want?" He mumbled, still avoiding your gaze.
The weight of his question was heavy, but you didn't waver. You stepped into his apartment, feeling the warmth of the air against your skin.
"I came here to say that I'm sorry," you began, your voice barely audible, "I shouldn't have left like that. I was scared, and I didn't know how to handle things. I was wrong to run away, and I want you to know that I'm here now."
Yoongi remained silent, staring at his hands as if they were foreign to him.
You leaned towards him, grasping his bicep in your hand.
He flinched at the sudden touch, but didn't shy away.
"Please, look at me, Yoongi," you whispered, your eyes pleading with him to understand.
Your fingers wrap tightly around his arm, and you look up into his eyes, attempting to convey the sincerity of your words.
"Please, I-I just..."
Your let your hand fall back your side, trembling slightly, as your face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and regret.
You stumbled over her words, speaking at a rapid pace, desperate to communicate the weight of her remorse.
"Look, I know I messed up, okay? I didn't mean to just...run out on you like that. It was so stupid and thoughtless and, god, I'm so sorry, I really am."
He opened his mouth to say something, "Y/N--" but you cut him off, your voice rising in pitch as your anxiety grew.
"I've been thinking about it nonstop, and I hate myself for doing that to you and then just completely avoiding you afterwards. I was scared, and I panicked, and I didn't want to face what was happening between us."
"Y/N--" Again, he tried to interrupt, but you continued your rambling, feeling a knot tighten in your chest as tears threatened to spill from your eyes.
"Every time I think about how I left you like that I feel terrible. I can't stand the thought that I hurt you like that. I never wanted to be the type of person who runs away when things like that happen, but that's exactly what I did."
Your voice faltered, and you swallowed hard, trying to regain your composure.
Still, you refused to let him get a word in, terrified that if he spoke, it would confirm your worst fears – that you had irreparably damaged you friendship with him.
"Since then, I've been replaying that night in my head over and over again, wishing I could go back and do things differently. I should have stayed. We should have talked it out like adults. But instead, I behaved like a coward, and now I'm afraid I've lost you for good."
At last, you paused for breath, your chest heaving as you stared at him with wide, pleading eyes.
He took a step closer, his expression unreadable, and she braced yourself for the impact of his words – whatever they may be.
Just as you were about the reply, Yoongi closed the distance between the two of you, his lips gently touching yours in a tender, slow kiss.
Yoongi's lips were soft as he pulled back, a small smile on his face as he looked at you, his fingers tangling in your hair. He tugged gently, causing you to lean forward, his breath hot against your lips as he spoke. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this."
You smiled and leaned in, your noses brushing against each other as the two of you breathed each other in deeply.
The air was filled with the scent of his cologne and the faintest hint of cigarette smoke mixing with the warmth of his body. "Oh really? How long have you wanted to?" you whispered, heart racing as he moved closer, resting his forehead against yours. His warmth seeped into you, making you shiver.
Slowly, Yoongi's lips brushed against yours teasingly before pressing firmly, his hand on the back of your neck pulling you closer. Your kiss was soft and gentle at first, a slow exploration of each other's mouths, tasting and teasing. The feeling of his lips against yours sent shivers down your spine, a low moan escaping your throat as you parted your lips slightly, inviting him in more. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, and you eagerly opened up for him, welcoming him in.
The taste of him was addictive, like fine wine and coffee, with a hint of sweetness that lingered on your tongue long after the kiss.
You ran your fingers up his neck and threaded your fingers through his messy hair.
You pulled him closer, deepening the kiss, your body melting into his as they molded together. Yoongi groaned into the kiss, his other hand finding its way to your waist and pulling you even tighter against him.
Your tongues danced together, twirling and dueling playfully, your mouths opening wider to allow for more exploration. His kiss was demanding now, and you gave in willingly, your body arching into him as he took control.
You kissed him back just as passionately, your tongue tangling with his, breaths heavy and labored. He gripped your hips tighter, grinding against you, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her core.
Your fingers dug into his shoulders as he continued to kiss you deeply, your body trembling with anticipation.
You could feel his heart racing against your chest, the sound of his rapid breaths mingling with your own.
The heat between the two of you grew, along with your desire, and you felt yourself opening up to him more than ever before.
"Jump." He growled, his lips still brushing against yours.
With a small whimper, you obeyed, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer as he stepped forward, nearly pinning you against the wall.
His lips trailed down your neck, leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses along the way, making you shiver.
Your head fell back as he bit lightly on the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking gently. His hot breath fanned across your skin, raising goosebumps along your arms.
You sighed in contentment as Yoongi's warmth continued to envelop you, your heart racing in anticipation. In the nights you spent alone in your room, you had replayed this moment countless times in your head, imagining how it would feel to be in his arms, to feel the softness of his lips against yours. But the reality was far more intense than you ever could have imagined. Every touch sent shivers down your spine, every groan vibrating against your skin made you tremble with desire.
With a sudden surge of impatience, Yoongi dropped you to your feet, roughly ripping off his shirt, his muscles rippling beneath his skin in the process, revealing a chiseled torso that seemed to glow in the dim light.
Your breath hitched at the sight of him bare before you, his shoulders broad and strong, his arms corded with strength. You traced one of them with your fingertips, marveling at the definition of his biceps.
His abs were like etched stone, each dip and curve perfectly defined. As you trailed your fingers lower, you could feel his heart racing under your touch. He groaned softly, a deep rumble that vibrated through your body. You traced the trail of hair that led from his navel to his jeans, which were already unbuttoned and half-unzipped. You paused for a moment, looking up at him through hooded eyes. He growled low in his throat, a mix of irritation and desire, and you smiled before sliding your fingers inside his boxers to touch his hot skin.
He was warm and hard, pulsing beneath your fingertips. You wrapped your hand around him, feeling the heat radiate off him like an open flame. He gasped softly as you began to stroke him, slowly at first, then faster when he closed his eyes and arched into your touch. The look of pure bliss on his face was enough to make your heart race. In response, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his neck, sucking softly on his flesh. His hands fisted in your hair, holding you close.
"F-fuck, Y/N...w-wait," he grabbed your wrist, halting your actions before burying his face into your neck.
Letting go of you, he sighed allowing his hands to roam down your back, over your hips, until he reached the hem of your hoodie. He pulled it up slowly, revealing your red lace bra beneath.
You gasped at the sudden change in temperature before he lowered his head to suck on your neck, nipping at your skin lightly.
Your heart raced as he undid the clasp, the cool air caressing your warm skin. The bra fell to the floor, leaving your chest bare for his view.
He merely glanced for a moment before drawing his eyes back up to yours, "You're so beautiful."
He trailed his fingers down your side, over the curve of your breast, and cupped it gently in his hand.
"Everything about you...I don't think I'll ever get enough."
Yoongi's breath hitched as you arched into his touch, your nipple hardening under his palm. His thumb circled around the bud, rolling it between his fingers. He dipped his head and took your other nipple into his mouth, sucking softly as you moaned.
The feeling of his lips on your skin sent shivers down your spine, goosebumps rising on your arms. You felt hot and cold all at once, your knees weak.
You couldn't tear your eyes away from his face as he looked up at you, his eyes hooded with lust.
Your gaze dropped to his hand, still massaging your breast even as he slipped it lower.
He used his free hand to hook his fingers into the waistband of your pants and pulled them down slowly, his lips never leaving your skin.
You were left in just your underwear now, your heartbeat pounding against your ribcage.
He swallowed your moan as he finally pulled away, his hand sliding up your thigh. He cupped you through your lacy underwear, gasping at the heat that pooled between your legs.
His fingers danced over your drenched folds, teasing your clit as he peeled your panties down to your ankles. You stepped out of them, your knees shaking ever so slightly. It was like being in a trance, every nerve ending alive and screaming for him.
He slipped his fingers out of your dripping center, holding them up to the light to emphasize the shine of your slick that glistened coated them.
"Taste yourself." He whispered,his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.
You obeyed, closing your eyes as you leaned forward to taste yourself on his fingers. The salty-sweet flavor was intoxicating, and you swirled your tongue around his digits, feeling him watching your every move.
He groaned, his eyes locked on your mouth, as you slowly licked his fingers clean. The air was thick with anticipation as he continued to watch you.
Grinning, he suddenly dropped down onto his knees before you, kneading his fingers into the small of your back, pulling you closer to him. His eyes never left your face as he positioned himself between your legs.
You could feel his breath on your sensitive skin, the heat of his body radiating towards you as he leaned in closer. His eyes locked with yours, his gaze filled with hunger and desire. You felt your body tremble in anticipation, your breath hitched as you waited for what would come next.
"Yoongi what are you-- oh, fuck!"
The first touch of his tongue made you cry out, your hips jerking forward. It was barely a lick, but it sent shivers of pleasure coursing through your body. He took his time, lapping at your folds, teasing and tasting, his fingers lightly brushing against your clit with each pass of his tongue. You moaned, throwing your head back and giving in to the pleasure.
"Yoongi..." you breathed, your voice hoarse. His name was a plea and a command all in one. He chuckled softly, the vibration sending waves of delight through you. With one hand still teasing your entrance, he used the other to spread your folds, exposing you to his hungry gaze. And then he dove in, tongue circling your entrance, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves within. Your walls clenched around his tongue, begging for more.
"Please," you whimpered, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair. He hummed in agreement, pushing deeper, his nose brushing against your entrance as he lapped at it. You squirmed underneath him, your hips bucking against his face as you tried to get closer.
The taste of you, sweet and tangy and salty, filled his mouth. He lapped at you greedily, groaning around your folds as he tried to get as much of you as he could. Your moans and gasps echoed in the room, mingling with lewd sounds Yoongi was making as he lapped at your core.
With one hand still gripping his hair, you arched your back and cried out as he continued to lick and suck on your sensitive spots. Your hips rocked wildly, grinding against his face as he drove you closer and closer to orgasm.
His growls and moans were music to your ears, fueling your desire and making your heart race. You could feel the heat building deep within you, and you knew that it was only a matter of time before you reached your peak.
Yoongi is relentless, his tongue never slowing down as he continued to pleasure you. You threw your head back, your eyes screwed shut as you prepared for the moment of pure bliss.
"Yoongi, fuck I-I'm so close." you whimpered, begging for release from the pleasure building inside of you.
He chuckled slightly against your folds, loving the way you squirmed beneath him. With one hand, he spread your legs wider, giving himself better access. His mouth closed around your clit as he lapped up every drop of your arousal.
As he worked you up into a frenzy, you begged him not to stop, pleading for release, your hips bucking wildly against his mouth.
Yoongi loved the raw hunger in your voice, the way you trembled and squirmed under his expert ministrations.
His talented tongue was working wonders on you, and you began to feel familiar knot begin to build in the pit of your stomach.
You were close, so close.
"Yoongi, I-I'm gonna-- shit!"
And when you came, it was everything he'd hoped for—a scream torn from your throat as you shook and spasmed beneath him, your wet heat coating his face. Your walls clenched around his fingers as he continued to feast on your cunt, drinking in every last drop of your sweet nectar.
Finally satiated, he lifted his head, dragging his tongue over her swollen nub lazily and you flinched from over stimulation before making his way back up to meet your eyes, holding you close to keep you from falling off balance, "You taste so good."
You smiled, cupping his cheeks in your hands, "Take me to your bedroom."
Nodding, he gently lifted you into his arms, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, as he carried you towards the bedroom. His eyes remained locked with yours, brimming with longing and urgency. The sensation of your body against his, the touch of your velvety skin, and the warmth of your breath on his neck overwhelmed him, stirring a powerful desire within him.
"I want you so bad," he whispered, his voice ragged.
You rested your head on his shoulder as he carried you, "I want you too," you breathed, your heart pounding against his chest in time with his own, "more than anything."
Yoongi stumbles through the hallway, holding onto you firmly but not too tightly, his steps becoming more and more certain as he gets closer to his bedroom. He kicks the door open with his foot, almost losing his balance but managing to regain it just in time.
The room is dimly lit, with only a small desk lamp on, casting shadows across the walls and the floor. He slowly lowers himself onto the bed, cradling you in his arms as you lay your head on his chest.
To him, you hair smells like vanilla and you feel soft against his rough skin. His heart beats fast in anticipation as he looks down at you, taking in the way your eyes flutter closed and your breathing deepens as you lean into him. "Yoongi..." you whisper before trailing off, your voice barely audible even to herself.
With a sudden burst of energy, he pulls you closer, rolling so that you're on top of him and he's beneath you, your exposed cunt pressing roughly against his clothed cock.
Your hips grind together, and he groans at the feeling.
His hands trail up your sides, tracing the outline of your ribs before cupping your breasts. You gasp, your nipples hardening beneath his touch. He dips his head to capture one in his mouth, sucking gently as he groans against your skin. It tastes sweet and salty and intoxicating.
You look at him, a wry smile etched into your features as you press a chaste kiss to his lips, "Let me make you feel good,"
You slide off his waste slowly before kissing your way down his chest, tracing your fingers along his abs, along the thin trail of hair that leads from his lower abdomen to the waistband of his pants before finally reaching for the obvious tenting in his pants, palming him through his jeans.
He groans slightly, his breath hitched as your fingers brush against the evidence of his arousal. You smile without looking up, knowing the effect you're having on him.
Without any further hesitation, you unbuckled the belt of Yoongi's jeans and slid them down, his length straining painfully against his boxers.
With a smirk, you teased Yoongi by running your fingers over his underwear-clad dick through the fabric, feeling it twitch and throb.
Yoongi let out a low groan as he felt your soft hands stroking him through his boxers.
Taking a deep breath, you pulled his cock out, freeing it from its confines. Your eyes widened as you looked down at the jutting length of his dick in your hands. It was thick and veiny, standing tall against your palms.
You ran your thumb over the head, gathering the precum that had formed there before leaning down and wrapping your mouth around the tip, forcing a strained moan out of Yoongi as he quickly threaded his fingers through your hair.
"H-holy shit, Y/N, that feels so-- fuck."
The taste of Yoongi instantly filled your senses as you explored him with your tongue, circling the head and teasing his slit. The hand on your head gently began guiding you as you started to take more of him into your mouth.
Each bob of your head made a wet, sloppy noise as you sucked him off, taking more and more of him each time.
You could taste the pre-cum on the tip, and you couldn't wait to swallow it all down. As your mouth sank further down onto his cock, you let your lips brush against Yoongi's shaft and listened to the slapping noise as your wet mouth engulfed him.
You could feel the vein pulsing on top, and the smell of his arousal filled your nostrils.
You looked up at him, eyes meeting Yoongi's, and he thought about how damn attractive you looked with your cheeks hollowed out and lips red from around his dick.
With a soft moan, you leaned forward and swallowed him down, taking him to the base of his throat. You slowly started moving up and down, taking him in and out of your mouth, licking and sucking at the same time.
You could feel his hands gripping into your scalp, holding him tightly as you deepthroated him. The room fell silent, only the sounds of your tongue lapping at his cock and the wet, sucking noises could be heard.
Before you could take him deeper and swallow around him again, he grabbed your hair, roughly pulling you off of his dick.
You looked at him, confused, waiting for him to speak his mind.
"Not yet," he panted, his eyes wild and focused on your lips. "I need to be inside you."
He stood up, and you could see the strain in his muscles as he struggled to control himself.
"What are you waiting for, Yoongi?" you teased, your eyes never leaving his.
He let out a shaky breath, and you could see the hunger in his eyes. With trembling hands, he leaned down, fully removing his jeans.
Yoongi's breath hitched in his throat as he took a step closer to you, positioning himself between your legs.
You could feel the heat radiating from his body as he bent down, his eyes locked onto your own, filled with lust.
Your heart raced as he gently pulled your hips off the bed, lifting you up and guiding you towards the edge.
His hands trembled slightly as he positioned himself at your entrance, the tip of his cock teasing your wetness as he slowly began to press inside you.
You gasped as he entered you, feeling him stretch you open.
His eyes locked onto yours, his breath hitched as you clenched around him, pulling him in deeper.
"Fuck, Y/N," he whispered, his voice ragged with desire.
Slowly, he began to move, his hips rocking gently against yours as he thrust inside you. Your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping tightly as your eyes met his, lost in the intensity of the moment.
With each thrust, you both let out soft moans, the sounds mingling with the wet slap of skin against skin. It felt like a million different sensations all at once - the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the friction of his dick sliding in and out of you, the pulsing veins of his cock, and the way his lips brushed against yours as he kissed you.
Your hips began to meet his thrusts, rising up to meet him as he fucked you, his eyes never leaving yours. It was as if he was searching for something in the depths of your soul, and you were right there with him, searching for the same thing.
"Y-Yoongi, please," You whimpered, silently begging him to move faster.
Suddenly, as if a light switch went off he gritted his teeth and growled, beginning to thrust roughly into you, filling you with each and every inch of his length.
You moaned loudly beneath him, nails digging into his back as he took you like he owned you, his hips slapping against yours in a primal rhythm that echoed in the small room.
“F-fuck, Yoongi!” You mewl, arching your back.
His breathing was ragged as he looked down at you, his gaze dark and intense. “That’s right baby girl, take my cock. Take it all.” He pulled out slightly before slamming back in, feeling yours walls clench around him, loving the sensation.
He could feel the intensity building inside of him, the need to release slowly beginning to build inside of him.
"Fuck, Y/N," he groaned, his voice rough and demanding. "You feel so good." He slid one of his hands between your bodies, teasing your clit as he continued to pound into you.
"O-oh my god, Yoongi, I-I'm so close..."
He loved hearing you moan his name. It fueled his desire, made him lose control even more.
He grabbed your hair with his free hand and pulled your head back, exposing your neck to him, leaving a trail of kisses and bites down your shoulder and collarbone as you moved together.
"Yoongi, please," you pleaded, your voice quivering.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him to go deeper. The way he touched you, possessed you, owned you...it was unlike anything you had ever felt before.
His rough hands on your skin made you shiver, and you could feel the heat between the two of you growing more intense with every passing second.
His hips snapped forward, his cock hitting your G-spot just right, and you cried out, your body shaking. "Yes," you moaned, your whole body tingling. "Right there. Oh fuck, right there!" You arched your back, meeting his movements, your nails digging into his skin as you felt a familiar coil began form inside of you.
"F-fuck, Yoongi, I'm so close, please!"
"Yeah? You gonna cum all over my cock, princess?"
You could no longer form any words, simply responding with a strained moan.
"Beg for it."
Your eyes locked with his, pleading for the release you both craved. "Please," you whimpered, your voice barely audible. "I need you to make me cum, Yoongi, Please!"
Yoongi's face was a mix of pleasure and dominance as he watched you lose control. He thrust faster, harder, swallowing your moans among his own as they filled the room.
"Good girl," he growled, his eyes locked onto yours.
At the sound of those words, something within you snapped. You wanted him more than you had ever wanted anything in your life.
The air was thick with the scent of sex and desire as you both surrendered to the intensity of the moment.
You suddenly felt the pressure building, the heat between you two intensifying. Your body began to shake uncontrollably as you felt the orgasm you had been craving for so long finally taking over.
"Oh fuck, Yoongi, I'm-- shit!" you screamed, your voice echoing through the room.
Yoongi watched, his eyes filled with satisfaction, as you exploded around his cock. Your nails dug deeper into his skin, and he felt you tighten around him like a vice.
Feeling your walls clenching around his cock, it sent him over the edge as well. He moaned your name as he came inside you, his body shaking violently as he emptied himself inside you.
Your bodies kept moving, pulsing together as the wave of orgasm continued to wash over you both.
As the intensity subsides, Yoongi's weakened legs give way and he collapses against you, his chest pressed against yours, both of you breathless and covered in perspiration, utterly spent.
Gradually, as your breathing steadies, you attempt to shift and free yourself from underneath him. However, Yoongi swiftly wraps an arm around your waist, refusing to let you go, holding you close against him as he turns you both so that you're facing each other on your sides.
Yoongi's eyes met yours, filled with a mixture of lust, love, and something deeper - a connection that went beyond the physical. His fingers gently traced the curves of your face, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, lingering kiss.
You could feel the heat and energy from his body pulsating through you, and the aftershocks of your orgasm still reverberating within you. The intensity of the moment had left you both breathless, and yet there was a sense of peace that enveloped you as you lay there, entwined with one another.
Without saying a word, Yoongi tenderly lifted your chin, his eyes locking onto yours, and he spoke into the silence, his voice hoarse with emotion.
"I love you, Y/N."
"I love you too, Yoongi."
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w2sarcher · 6 months
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paradise | harry lewis
summary : ig feed & short blurb of harry and y/n being cuties on their holiday together !! face claim : dua lipa a/n: this is my first piece from my y/n x harry insta au omg !!! planning on basing them off random things in their relationship so they can be read in any order! excited to see where this will go, hopefully you all like it! bit nervous!!
read the rest of my stuff here : masterlist
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y/n_username posted a story! wroetoshaw posted a story!
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y/n_username posted a photo!
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liked by wroetoshaw and 243,902 others! y/n_username first day in paradise with my boy 💘 tagged : wroetoshaw ... faithlouiseak hottest girl ever ↳ y/n_username no you are !!!
freyanightingale enjoy cuties ↳ y/n_username miss you already!!!
ynfanpage such a fit couple omg
calfreezy as if bog's got you on the paddle board already😭 ↳ y/n_username we'd barely left the airport and he had them hired already ↳ wroetoshaw yeah and she could barely stay on it ↳ y/n_username die xoxo
- y/n_username posted a photo!
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liked by ksi and 345,290 others! y/n_username swipe to see a very excited man and his cocktail 🍹 tagged: wroetoshaw
... wroetoshaw absolute violation ↳ y/n_username love you too theburntchip never seen a man more happy about a pina colada in my life ↳ y/n_username his 10th one aswell taliamar can't swipe too busy looking at you in the first pic 😍 ↳ y/n username i love you??? tobjizzle enjoy my guys ↳ y/n_username 🤍🤍🤍 y/nfan20 i love y/n and her weird boyfriend w2slover love these losers
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y/n_username posted a photo!
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liked by miniminter and 345,290 others! y/n_username my two favourite things: beer and bog tagged: wroetoshaw
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wroetoshaw also my two favourite things in life ↳ y/n_username i hate you actually
arthurtv shocking pints
freyanightingale have you two been sober at all this holiday ??? ↳ y/n_username this is our idea of relaxing 😭
behzingagram my man crush ↳ faithlouiseak get a room
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wroetoshaw posted an instagram story!
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As the sun dipped toward the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the beach, Y/N and Harry found themselves nestled in the soft sand, their toes buried beneath the grains as they watched the waves roll gently onto the shore.
With a cooler by their side, they cracked open two ice-cold bottles of beer, the crisp fizz echoing the excitement that danced between them. The salty sea breeze carried with it the scent of adventure, mingling with the rich aroma of their drinks as they raised their bottles in a silent toast to the beauty of the moment.
Whilst they took their first sips, a comfortable silence settled over them, broken only by the rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against the shore. Y/N leaned back against Harry's chest, her head resting against his shoulder as they gazed out at the vast expanse of the ocean, the colors of the sunset painting the sky in shades of pink and gold.
With each sip of beer, they shared stories of their past adventures and dreams for the future, their laughter mingling with the gentle lapping of the waves. They talked about everything and nothing, lost in the magic of the moment and the undeniable connection that held them together.
As the sky turned from gold to dusky blue, they sat together in companionable silence, savoring the last sips of their drinks as they watched the stars begin to twinkle in the darkening sky. And as the night stretched out before them, filled with the promise of endless possibilities, Y/N and Harry knew that they were exactly where they were meant to be—side by side, sharing a beer on the beach, and falling more deeply in love with each passing moment.
''Doesn't get much better than this,'' Harry said, clinking his bottle towards Y/N, the last remaining bit of beer swaying slightly.
Y/N tipped her bottle towards him, humming in agreement ''Feels like paradise.'' she said.
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scaryspears · 1 year
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Mortal Kombat x Bimbo Reader
Another test run, and these are just bullet points not full blown stories. I've already written another bimbo reader post so I suggest checking that out. Please do requests if this isn't enough.
This one is just Bi Han, Kuai Liang, Hanzo, Shang Tsung and Johnny.
"I need to die looking good."
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Bi Han Noob Saibot
He doesn't understand your constant need to dress up and put makeup on, but he won't say anything about it. A lot of women are just like that, so Bi Han just figured it's a female thing. Misogynistic of him, but he doesn't care.
While seeing him training you gladly set up a chair and watched him from afar whilst drinking a cocktail, and you've attached yourself to him ever since. He couldn't take you seriously at first, but he could only admit to himself that your dense personality was a little adorable.
When the blood got too much you would hide your face in his chest, which he didn't mind even though some makeup stains would go on his clothes.
When he returned as Noob Saibot he swore to make you drop dead gorgeous, even if you already were. But you would join him in death as his revenant lover. Quan Chi was sure to give you the best manicures so long as you were loyal to him.
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Kuai Liang
As a man that puts Lin Kuei traditions in high regard he could understand your need for the newest fashion and dressing well. He showed you his wardrobe and you decided to copy his style, which he found adorable.
He likes having tea with you, but you're certain he must try a frappe or at least a smoothie.
Kuai isn't one for public affection, Lin Kuei and all, but he lets you climb over him. If he's not disciplining Frost or the other Lin Kuei then he's snogging you in the snow. After you drag him into it at least. He only initiates things first if you guys are alone.
Although you didn't understand a lot of things he could appreciate you being there for him to give comfort on sensitive topics.
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Hanzo 'Scorpion' Hasashi
It was like talking to a different Johnny Cage in his opinion. It was a bit jarring to have you flirting with him and not get the slightest hint that he's not interested since revenge was on his mind. It was after he was brought back as Hanzo Hasashi that he appreciated your presence more.
The Shirai Ryu are ninjas, so that meant blending into society when on mission and you had a lot of things to say about clothing choices.
The Shirai Ryu shrine looked better than he remembered, you had given him ideas on the layout and studied a thing or two on Japanese culture to make it legit.
When he caught you teaching the new members cheerleading moves he knew he had to be more welcoming with you, because those were complicated moves. And it showed him you were no stranger to teamwork. Hanzo could see the beauty in that.
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Shang Tsung
This villainous man came across you giving Mileena style tips and fixing her hair. He had no clue how you snuck into the private parts of the palace, but he suspected you were partially from the Chaosrealm.
Mileena didn't react well to your absence, and after Kitana's rejection she seemed to have formed an attachment to you so Shang expected you around the palace. Shao Kahn was glad that Mileena had a nice person to look up to, so he was fine with you in the palace.
Shang had you participate in the tournament for a reason, but he underestimated your powers as well as your fighting abilities. Such beauty in combat is rare.
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Johnny Cage
Barbie and Ken in the eyes of many Earthrealmers, but you two are the 'it' couple when it comes to vanity, expensive taste, and being drama queens.
He is your husband, your best friend, and your mirror. Your super power was convenience and getting yourself out of serious situations, but how it acted up was at random times. Johnny could relate to that.
In the meantime, you could both bathe in the spotlight, and the cameras. And your friends from home can be jealous and gush about you marrying an actor.
It was a match made in pink and green.
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(Full work now posted here.)
This current piece is taking longer than I'd expected to finish, but I think y'all will like it. Thank you, as always, for your continued patience. Needless to say, I am a big sucker for darker (but still sweet) portrayals of Prewar!Cooper that play into the parts of The Ghoul that already live inside him.
Here's a little 500-ish word sneak peek for those interested:
Duplicity
Pairing: Prewar!Cooper Howard x Female Reader
Warnings: smut (18+), DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, Possessive!Prewar!Cooper, jealousy, dubious consent, infidelity (physical and emotional), decomposing marriages, acrimonious divorce proceedings, alcohol use, choking, biting, degradation, mild exhibitionism, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, love confessions, soft ending.
Things were heating up quickly between you and Cooper. Maybe too quickly. Your lover's lips were attacking the exposed side of your throat, your back pressed firmly into the plush mattress as you wriggled beneath him. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, between the one-too-many cocktails you'd had during the party and the way he was touching you, moving you, positioning you the way he wanted as he moved in between your legs, standing over you at the edge of the bed. "Maybe we should wait." you breathed, your breaths deep and deliberate as you tried to sober yourself up enough to string together a clear thought. It would've been difficult enough simply trying to resist his kisses, but this was some random Vault-Tec executive's guest bedroom. There was a party going on. Your husband was likely still outside mingling, possibly looking for you. The odds of that weren't high, but they weren't zero. While the two of you had fooled around a bit up until now, you couldn't help but feel like you wanted things a little different for the first time you really had sex, for when you fully took that plunge and committed to this path. The man on top of you seemed to feel differently. "Don't think so." he purred lowly into the crook of your neck, running his teeth along your collarbone and making you shudder. You could smell the gin martini he'd been holding earlier on his breath. "You made me watch him touch and kiss on you all night, and now you're gonna make it up to me." Cooper's warm, softly calloused hand found your throat, holding you firmly as he gazed down at you,. He wasn't choking you, per se; at least, not in the way that you would've anticipated someone would choke you, squeezing around your airway until your breathing was cut off. No, instead, he pressed his fingers and thumb into the soft flesh on each side, digging into your twin pulse points and slowing the flow of blood to your brain. It didn't hurt or make you feel panicked. In fact, quite the opposite happened, your squirming finally ceasing almost entirely, your brain buzzing with warm, tingly docility. Between that and the already toasty feeling coursing through your veins, you haltingly allowed your defiant thighs to fall open halfway, slowly forgetting the reasons you'd been resisting, forgetting where you were. "That's a good girl. You know who you belong to, don'tcha?" he praised, his free hand stroking the sensitive inside of your thigh reverently. The feeling of two of his thick fingers sliding inside of you suddenly sent you whining in response, both at the stretch and the slight sting of it. That sent a smirk ghosting across the actor's face, leaning in to run his lips along the soft, flushed skin of your cheek. "Pretty little cheatin' slut. Now, be quiet and let me have what's mine."
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Trigger Points
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Pairing: Erotic Massage Therapist Ezra x f!reader (not romantic)
Rating: E (explicit smut, 18+ only)
Word Count: 5.1k
Warnings: Medical kink, massage kink (is that a thing?), erotic massage, mentions of sexual dysfunction and difficulty orgasming, consent forms, the clinical is erotic now, power imbalance due to the masseur/patient dynamic, mentions of uhhh *checks notes* anal massage, lots of vaginal fingering I mean massaging, pelvic floor massaging but make it erotic, dubcon only in the sense that Ezra says orgasm is not the goal and then definitely deliberately gives her one anyway, g-spot orgasms, squirting, Penny gets on her soapbox at the end
Summary: Ezra is a massage therapist. What kind, you ask? Internal massage. That’s it that’s the fic.
A/N: I wrote this in twenty-four hours in a horny unhinged writing frenzy. Am I embarrassed that this came from my brain? Yes. Am I posting it anyway? Also yes. Thank you to @littlebirdsbookshelf for the beta (and all of the screaming) and to @leslie-lyman for egging on the medical kink that I definitely don't have.
Masterlist
You aren’t sure what you’re doing here.
This isn’t like you.
As you stare at the nondescript building–no sign, no name on the door–you think back to the seemingly random circumstances that brought you here.
The party you hadn’t wanted to go to. 
The friend–acquaintance–who insisted.
The man with a distinctive blonde streak that kept lingering by the snack table and popping cocktail shrimp into his mouth with an enthusiasm that had made you look twice in wary amusement.
Like so many men, he’d taken your glance in his direction as an invitation to come over and start a conversation, but the resulting discussion was decidedly unlike any other man–or human–you’d come across.
Loquacious to the point of being humorous, the man–Ezra, he told you–was disarming and insightful. You opened up to him immediately; he seemed to have this uncanny ability to pull your life’s story from your lips, much to your surprise and chagrin. Did you really tell a strange man at a party that you’ve been from doctor to doctor, complaining of sexual pain and dysfunction, only to be given dismissive, unhelpful advice? Have a glass of wine, one said. Use different soap, said another. Make sure your laundry detergent is fragrance-free. 
“I think I’m just built wrong,” you said bitterly, taking a sip from your wine glass. “Anyway, it’s fine. You didn’t sign up to listen to a stranger’s problems at some house party.”
“On the contrary,” Ezra replied mysteriously, raising one eyebrow as he regarded you with amusement. “I think our fortuitous meeting must have been arranged by the universe itself.”
Fishing his wallet out of his back pocket, he had handed you a business card that had only his first name–Ezra, no last name, and a phone number.
“I just happen to be a certified massage therapist, trained to assist with the very complaints of which you speak.”
“What kind of massage?” you’d asked, scrunching up your face in skepticism.
“Internal massage.”
You may have told him to fuck off then and there. You may have made your excuses and left the party in your embarrassment over having spilled your heart to a stranger with a questionable line of work, to say the very least. 
…You may have called two weeks later to inquire about an appointment.
The woman who answered the phone in that same kind of warm, soothing tone that seems to be common in so many legitimate massage practices made you feel slightly less insane about calling. The lengthy consent form she emailed after hanging up, however, sent you spiraling again.
Extensive questions about sexual history, your beliefs about sex, your relationship to sex, your experience with pain, dysfunction, your sexuality, etc. Check boxes indicating your level of experience and comfort with a number of sexual acts and situations. And at the end, three check boxes asking whether you would like to be massaged vaginally, anally, or both. 
A bell tinkles pleasantly when you open the door, and the scent of lavender fills your nose. Soft, soothing music plays from a hidden speaker somewhere, and one of those self-contained rock garden water fountains bubbles away in the corner of the brightly lit waiting room.
A woman behind the desk greets you–it must be the same one you’d spoken to on the phone–and checks you in. She walks you through what to expect during the appointment–first, you’ll meet with Ezra to discuss the consent form, then you’ll be asked to disrobe and lay on the massage table under a sheet. The type of care you’re given, she tells you, depends on what you put down on the consent form, which of course she hasn’t read, so she can’t tell you any specifics. 
“But he specializes in women with sexual dysfunction?” you ask skeptically. It had said as much on the forms. 
“Oh, yes,” the woman nods enthusiastically. “I know it’s an unusual service he provides, but Ezra is a professional, conscientious, and passionate about the work he does.”
You nod slowly, and she flashes you a warm, comforting smile before instructing you to sit anywhere.
You do, trying not to look too nervous as you wait.
Thankfully, you aren’t there for too long before a door opens, and Ezra softly calls your name.
Your nerves cause you to babble as you follow the man to the quiet, dimly-lit massage room. “Sorry I told you to fuck off,” you say. “That was pretty rude, and I’m sure it’s weird that I’m here now even though I clearly thought you were a pervert at the party, and–” you trail off, standing awkwardly beside the massage table as Ezra sits on a rolling stool.
“Now, now. Water under the bridge, I assure you, sprite. My profession is often met with skepticism at best and outright hostility at worst, but I let the testimonials speak for themselves. I assume you’ve read them?”
You nod, thinking back to the paragraphs of women saying they’d never known their bodies were capable of such pleasure before experiencing what they had called erotic massage.
“And I have read your consent form very carefully; I like to commit these things to heart, you see. Helps me do my job to the very best of my ability. Now, I did have a question about your very last answer: you made a checkmark indicating you were interested in vaginal massage only, but drew in a little question-mark next to anal massage.”
“I’m not sure yet,” you say, too quickly, jumbling the words together. “Depends on how… how…”
“How everything goes. Of course.” Ezra nods, making a quick note on your form. “I’ll consider you to be a vaginal-only patient for now, to be revisited at a later date if so desired.”
“Kay,” you squeak.
“Allright, let me give you a rundown of how this works. I’m not a sex worker; my job isn’t to make you orgasm. Like any massage therapist, my job is to find muscles that need to be worked out, and work them out. I just happen to specialize in muscles that other areas of practice typically ignore. This will involve both internal and external work–you might find that I might press on your lower abdomen, for example, with the other hand inside you. I always start slow with new patients; I’ll begin externally, massaging the entire pubic area and finding spots that might require extra attention. When you’re ready, we’ll move to an internal massage starting with one finger and seeing how many is most comfortable for you right now. Eventually, as we progress through your appointments, the goal is for the internal massage to involve two hands.
“Now, all that being said, the goal of these sessions might not be orgasm, but I want to let you know that it is normal and okay if that happens during your massage,” Ezra continues. “This is a safe space, and your comfort and pleasure is encouraged through this process. All of that seem hunky-dory?”
“Mmhmm,” you nod rapidly.
“Perfect. If you’re ready to get started, I’ll leave the room so you can get undressed. You can undress only from the waist down if you’re comfortable, or you can disrobe completely; the rest of you will be covered by the sheet, so it’s all down to what you prefer.”
Ezra leaves, the door clicking shut behind him, and you take a few moments to steady yourself before taking off only your pants and underwear. Grimacing at the awkwardness, you tuck the underwear into your jeans and place your shoes on top of both on the spare chair in the corner of the room. Then, you lie down under the sheet and wait.
Ezra taps lightly to herald his return before opening the door. “Good,” he says, seeing you laying stiffly on the massage table. “I’m going to check in many times during this first appointment especially,” he explains. “So much so that you may tire of it. You may simply say ‘good,’ when I ask how you are feeling, and I will continue. If you do not feel good at any point, I must ask that you say so. Sound okay?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now, this massage table is custom made for my area of practice specifically,” Ezra explains, reaching under the table and unfolding a pair of stirrups–the kind you’ve seen many times at the gynecologist–and you grimace.
“Ah, I know, most people on this table do not have the most positive memories associated with these,” Ezra tuts, “and if you aren’t sure about using these, we can simply rest your legs on either side of the table.”
“I think I’m okay,” you tell him, cautiously reaching your feet out until your legs are uncomfortably splayed open. 
“You tell me if that changes.” Ezra sits down on the stool and rolls it over to sit at the front of the table. “I’m going to do the external massage with the sheet down,” he says. “No need for a cold breeze if it isn’t necessary, after all. As discussed before, I’m going to feel around the entire pubic area, finding anything that needs extra attention. If you’ve gotten a regular massage, you might notice that this one is much gentler; there won’t be any harsh poking or prodding, just light pressure and rubbing. If that’s all good, sprite, say the word and I’ll begin.”
“I’m good.”
“Very good. First, we’re going to warm up a little by touching your inner thighs. All muscles in this area are interconnected, so this will help soften things up as well.” 
You keep your eyes closed and let out a slow breath through pursed lips as you feel Ezra’s large, warm hands slowly working out the tension in your thighs. The unfamiliar feeling of someone’s hands in such an intimate area is an odd one, at first, but you can’t help but slowly begin to relax as he works out the delicate muscles of the upper-most part of your legs.
“Checking in again, sprite, how are we feeling?”
“Good,” you answer, with a little more confidence this time. “It’s good.”
“Excellent,” Ezra praises. “If we’re feeling nice and comfortable about it, I’m going to start to move upward and inward. You’ll feel me touch your outer labia, your perineum, and your pubic bone as we move forward. How do we feel about that?”
“Nervous,” you admit, giggling awkwardly. “But good.”
“Of course, sprite, it’s normal to be nervous about an unfamiliar sensation. Always remember that you are able to say ‘stop’ at any time.”
At your nod, Ezra’s hands shift, his thumbs beginning to rub up and down the outside of your labia. He rubs little circles around the entire area, including–something that makes your entire body flush with heat immediately–the skin just above your little puckered hole. 
“I know, I know,” Ezra soothes. “Just trying to get a complete picture here. We aren’t doing any internal massage in this area, but you may feel my fingers on the skin around it occasionally.”
“Okay,” you agree, nodding again.
“You’re doing so well, sprite. I’m going to stay external, but we’re going to start to examine a little deeper, does that sound okay? I’ll be rubbing your inner labia this time, spreading them apart to examine your vulva, urethra, and clitoris with my fingers. This is where it might start to feel pleasurable, or it could feel odd and uncomfortable as you become accustomed to this type of massage.”
“Yep,” you say, voice tight with anxiety again.
“I need a little bit more than that, sprite,” Ezra chastises. “Are you good to continue?”
“Yes. Good.”
“I can tell you’re nervous; why don’t you take a deep breath in for me for the count of five…” he counts slowly as you obey, “...and as you let it out slowly, you’re going to feel my hands move inward.”
The feel of Ezra running his slicked fingers up and down your inner labia doesn’t feel quite as uncomfortable as you’d feared. You’ve never been touched like this, or even touched yourself like this. It’s an exploration of sorts, collecting some data that means something only to him, perhaps. After a short time, he pulls you apart with his thumb and forefinger, spreading you open. 
“I’m going to rub back and forth just on the surface level,” Ezra says, “You might feel my thumb press down on a few places to locate any areas to focus on later.”
You take more slow, even breaths as you feel his warm thumb move from your perineum to your clit, then back down again. In a few places, he presses down, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb as he locates some unknown source of tension.
“How well you're doing,” Ezra praises warmly. “I've definitely found some areas of tension that we can work on during your sessions. This isn't the end of the external massage, per se, as I'll still want to work on some of those spots, but this is where I start to add an internal component, if you're up to it. What are we thinking?”
“Yeah,” you agree. “I'm okay with that.”
“Good. As I explained before, I'm going to start very slow. I work with clients with a wide range of comfort levels and ability, and I'm not going to push anyone too far before they're ready. Not to be glib or reductive, but this is not dissimilar to a basic shoulder massage. I'll be working all along the muscles of your vaginal wall. We'll start with just one finger, and if that's comfortable for you, we'll see how it goes with two. I'm going to slowly slide one finger in, let you adjust to how that feels, and then I'll begin the massage on your right side, moving to the back, the left, and then the front, around in a little circle like so. At the same time I'll be gently pressing with my other hand so that I can get a feel for the muscles that are stiff, sore, or carry any tension. If at any point any sensation is unpleasant, please bring it to my attention immediately. In that event, I will stop and reassess. If that discomfort is the result of muscle or pelvic floor tension, we will slowly, slowly work through it without causing you any pain. Is all of this acceptable?”
“Yes.”
“And am I okay to begin your internal massage?”
“Yes.”
“Very good. Just as before, I'm going to spread open your labia nice and wide, only this time you are going to feel my finger slowly enter you. Once inside, we'll take a few deep breaths together, I'll ask if you are comfortable, and I'll begin the massage.”
As Ezra speaks, he does each action in turn. You feel your labia being parted, and then one slick, warm finger slips inside. It hits a bit of resistance when he passes your pelvic floor, but doesn't cause any pain. At his instruction, he guides you through three deep breaths as you become accustomed to the sensation.
“I'm going to begin moving now,” he announces. “Beginning on your left side.”
It's an odd feeling to adjust to, the way Ezra’s finger moves inside you. With his other hand pressing sometimes on your hip, sometimes at your side, you can feel him pressing against your wall in–true to his word–the same way one might massage a shoulder. This is just… very different. Or perhaps it's the same, and your brain only perceives it as such. 
Despite the awkwardness of having someone rubbing such an intimate, deep, vulnerable part of your body, you can admit that something does feel good about this. Ezra is right, of course; there are muscles internally as well as externally, and you've never had yours attended to in such a way before. 
Ezra’s finger rubs this way and that, covering all possible knots and tense spots on that particular side. 
“Checking in, sprite,” he intones gently. “How does it feel?”
“Weird… but kinda good. I think I understand why you say it's just like a shoulder massage–I never really thought about having muscles there, but… I can feel them relaxing the same way they would as… as if it were my shoulder.”
“No physical difference between the two,” Ezra says, voicing your earlier thought. “Only up here do we make a distinction.” He taps the side of his head and gives you a sideways grin. “If we’re feeling pretty good with one, would you like to try adding one more? It all depends on your level of comfort, but it is easier to get at the muscles with two, rather than one. Would you like to try?”
The gentle loosening of the muscles you hadn't even known were tense is surprisingly soothing, so of course, you agree.
“You're doing so well at checking in with me,” Ezra says. “Take a nice deep breath for me, and we’ll switch to two fingers. Ready?”
You make a little noise of assent, and as you exhale, you feel the pressure inside you increase as Ezra slips another finger inside you. 
“Doing good, sprite. I’m going to move to the muscles at the back of your vaginal walls now, which means my other hand is going to be pressing up on your lower back and buttocks. Is this fine?”
“That’s fine, yeah,” you nod, and at your consent, Ezra goes back to his steady, methodical working of your pelvic floor. 
At this new angle, the sensations inside you are new and different from before. When he was massaging your left side, all you could really feel was the gentle push and pull as your muscles were soothed and relaxed. You can still feel the muscle tension easing away… but it’s very quickly being replaced by a different kind.
You try to focus on taking deep breaths in and out of your nose as Ezra seems to draw heat into your core with every stroke. You stop focusing on the relaxation entirely, instead concentrating every effort to not make any awkward noises that indicate how much your body is responding to his touch.
You really should have known better.
“Many people find that different areas of the vaginal wall can cause different kinds of sensations,” Ezra says quietly as he gently rubs small circles from within you while pressing just above your puckered hole. “The front vaginal wall, of course, has the tendency to produce the strongest impression because of what most people call the g-spot, but the rear wall is also very responsive. I want to remind you of what we discussed earlier; that you are welcome and encouraged to lean into those feelings. It is common for patients to come to orgasm multiple times during a session, and can be helpful for further muscle relaxation. All this to say, sprite, you don’t have to work to suppress the fact that this feels pleasurable. Of course it does. It’s far more advantageous for you to allow it to happen rather than spend the session working to rein it in. Understand?”
“Y-Yeah,” you nod, trying to sink back down onto the massage table again and stop fighting against your body’s automatic responses.
Even so, you don’t really believe you could orgasm from just this. Hell, you can barely orgasm during sex even when you use a vibrator. Your body’s need for intense, prolonged clitoral stimulation is simply a fact. A law, as immutable as gravity, and no amount of “internal massage” would ever have the same effect. 
“If you ever do wish to revisit that last little question on the consent form, one type of treatment that can be incredibly effective is to massage the area in between, if you take my meaning,” Ezra comments lightly, as though discussing the weather. “It’s perfectly workable through what I’m doing now, of course, but even though I’m capturing the same general area, in my years of practice I’ve actually found that anal massage is an important component in achieving a comprehensive relaxation of all pelvic muscles.”
“Okay,” you say dumbly. His words–all the more impactful because of the detached clinical tone–combined with the constant pressure of his fingers, are creating a maelstrom of pleasure in your brain. You still aren’t sure if you’re “allowed” to find this entire situation to be incredibly erotic, but you worry you’ll soon have no choice, especially if your mind keeps conjuring up how it might feel to have both of Ezra’s hands rubbing something deep within you. How full you might feel.
“Nothing that needs to be discussed now or even in the near future, sprite,” he adds. “But just something to keep in the back of your mind as we progress through treatment.”
“Mm,” you agree. It’s–oh God, are you going to come? The pressure is building, building inside you, and even though there’s nothing touching your clit, it feels as though you might be reaching that point of no return. You make a soft, whining, desperate little sound as Ezra massages your vaginal wall with methodical precision.
“I know, I know,” he soothes in that syrupy voice of his. “Take a few deep breaths for me–I promise, it’s okay to let it go. Allow your body to do what it’s meant to do.” At this, he presses down even harder, and you gasp as you suddenly begin to clench around his fingers. Your chest heaves as you ride the waves of pleasure until they subside to a gentle ebb. Ezra remains still throughout it all, waiting patiently until you stop twitching with aftershocks.
“See? So much better when you listen to your body,” he praises. “Can you feel that? It causes your muscles to relax even further, so much more effectively than even I can manage. Feel the difference right here–” he rubs a wide circle up and down your wall, “–there’s so much less tension now, isn’t there?”
“Yeah,” you agree, still catching your breath.
“Let’s do a quick check-in before I move on,” Ezra suggests, “and while we do, I’d like to make a quick recommendation, if you are amenable.”
“That’s fine,” you answer. 
“Give us a quick run-down of how you’re feeling,” he says. “Any pain? Discomfort?” When you shake your head, he continues. “How about mentally? Orgasm can make us feel vulnerable, and that’s perfectly okay, of course, but not if it leads to feeling uncomfortable or unsafe.”
“It still feels a little… strange, but I’m okay.”
“Ah, of course. Now, as far as my recommendation… Now that you’re far more relaxed, I think it might be helpful to switch to three fingers. How do you feel about that?”
You swallow. “It might feel like a lot,” you admit quietly.
“Indeed,” Ezra agrees. “As a general rule, the more fingers I am able to use, the more effective the massage. The ideal internal massage would be either with all four fingers on one hand, or a combination of three and two. If you’re feeling at all apprehensive about discomfort, however, I think it would be better to wait and see, yes?”
“Yes,” you nod gratefully. 
“Moving on to your right side, sprite,” he says cheerfully. “Halfway there, and doing great.”
You can see what Ezra had been saying–you can feel that your walls are more pliant and moldable after your orgasm. However, it’s also made your nerves more sensitive to his touch, and the intense feeling of pleasure continues to flicker inside you with every gentle probe of his fingers. 
You begin to float, losing track of time and simply focusing on the sensations within you. Ezra quiets down when he senses your more meditative state, and continues to massage with minimal commentary. When his thick fingers begin to move, pressing upward toward your abdomen, however, your breath catches and your hips lift of their own accord.
“My apologies, sprite. I should have warned you I was moving to the front wall before I did so, but you were in such a state of utter relaxation that I was loathe to speak up.”
“S’fine.”
“You may find this area to be the most intense in terms of sensation,” Ezra comments. “There’s a reason I usually save it for last.”
You make a slightly garbled, strained noise of assent as his other hand rubs gentle circles on your mons pubis while the other continues its deliberate path up and down your walls, soothing out all of the tension and finding some incredibly sensitive spots as it does.
Ezra pauses over one such area, and, in such exquisite torture that makes you actually cry out into the room, curls both fingers up to apply even more pressure.
“Ah, that,” he chuckles to himself. “That thing–the little area they call the ‘g-spot’–it’s not some mysterious, unique phenomenon, nor is it mythological. What they didn’t know at the time–and far too many people still are not aware–is that the clitoris is much larger than just the little bit that we see on the outside.” His fingers rub little circles, back and forth, up and down, massaging so meticulously that it feels almost ruthless. “Sooo many nerves in one relatively small place,” he murmurs. “Stimulating the clitoris is normally the most reliable way to acheive orgasm, and yet so little of it is accessible. But here–” he presses up again, and you gasp, “–here we are able to access the other end of the organ.”
You can hardly concentrate on the original goal of muscle relaxation with so much pressure on your g-spot (or, apparently, the back of your clitoris) but you can still feel Ezra dutifully and clinically working out the tension in your pelvic floor. 
“Doing so well, sprite, so well. One nice, big, relaxing orgasm for me and then we’ll gently explore how the tension lessens afterward.”
Despite his insistence before your appointment that orgasm was not the goal of these sessions, you can’t help but notice Ezra appears to be guiding you towards one with masterful precision. With one hand applying light pressure on your abdomen and the other pressing upward to meet it, it feels as though he’s got the most sensitive organ of your body trapped between his fingers. He plays it like an instrument, each finger working independently to stroke different parts of the soft, spongy membrane. 
Finally, finally, the pressure becomes so much that you simply seem to implode; all at once, you clamp down on Ezra’s fingers like a vice as your lower back lifts from the table. A feeling of pure, hot, wet relief surges through you, and the release feels endless, as though your body simply cannot stop pulsing and contracting. Dimly, you realize that it must be the ruthless stimulation from Ezra’s hands keeping you suspended in what feels like a never-ending orgasm. His fingers press upwards, rubbing quickly and insistently back and forth against the sensitive organ, and the movement draws more and more rhythmic clenches that seem to ripple across the entire area. 
And–Oh, God–with each intense throb, little streams of fluid splash out over Ezra’s hand, and you realize with absolute mortification that the sheet, massage table, and Ezra’s white coat are already soaked with your release.
“Oh shit, I’m sorr–” you try to apologize as soon as you have the presence of mind.
“Now, now, not to worry, little sprite. Any manifestation of pleasure is welcomed and encouraged here, and I’ve been at this long enough to know that stimulating the back of the clitoris oftentimes results in strong and voluminous ejaculations…” You twitch with one last, pathetic aftershock, and Ezra soothingly rubs his fingers up and down your wall in the same way one might rub someone’s back after a long day. “But feel the difference, little sprite. Feel how supple and pliant your muscles are compared to before. This is the state we strive for, little sprite. Complete and utter relaxation. When you find yourself starting to tense up again–such is the consequence of the stressful lives we lead–I want you to call up this moment, and the way your pelvic muscles so easily move for my hand, and try to get back to this state. With enough practice on your own in between sessions, this will become easily achieved.
“I’m going to do a couple of nice, wide circles with my hand to stretch out those muscles one last time, and as I do, I’d like you to take some nice, deep, easy breaths with me. Once we get  to five nice big breaths, I’ll slowly remove my hand. Does this sound good?”
“Yuh-huh,” you nod.
“Nice big inhale,” Ezra reminds you, and you dutifully suck in a deep, cleansing breath of air as you feel his hand circle around your vaginal walls, pressing deep into the muscle as he does. You repeat the action four more times, and on your very last exhale, the light feeling of pressure within you finally abates as his fingers slip out of you. 
“How do you feel?”
“Pretty relaxed,” you say with a relieved laugh.
“Mentally?” he prods.
“I dunno, fine,” you shrug.
“Any feelings of vulnerability are normal,” he says as he stands from his stool and helps you guide your legs out of the stirrups and back onto the table under the sheet. “You may find that these feelings may be delayed by a few days, even, so be gentle with yourself for the next week or so. Light muscle soreness is also normal, in the same way it can occur after a normal massage. If at any time this light soreness transforms into pain, please do not hesitate to contact me.”
Ezra picks up your consent form again and scans it briefly before setting it back down and giving you a serious, thoughtful look. “You told me three weeks ago that you were ‘built wrong,’ and you mention several times in your form that you have difficulty bringing yourself to orgasm. Little sprite, I have lost count of the number of clients who have the same complaints and who have similarly insisted their bodies were simply different from ‘normal’ people’s. Now, mind you, the sample size may be biased, but from this data I can only conclude that no human being is ‘built wrong.’ The problem lies in our minds, and more specifically, in the social conditioning we’ve all received since birth–conditioning that in no way favors the female experience of pleasure. Society has failed you, has labeled your pleasure as secondary, illusive, impossible, or even imaginary. Your sessions with me will help to reverse the physical symptoms from a lifetime of unhelpful social conditioning, and now that you know your body is not only capable of experiencing pleasure, but of doing so in ways you weren’t even aware, your mind will follow.”
“Wow,” you breathe, awestruck by how different you feel. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”
“I’ll leave you to get dressed, little sprite,” Ezra says, briefly patting your hand in a comforting manner. “When you’re ready, go ahead and open the door and I’ll walk you to the lobby to schedule your next appointment.”
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notroosterbradshaw · 1 year
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My Father's Eyes - prologue
about: Bradley comes to terms with growing up without a father to guide him while quickly adapting to become one himself… to a child who wants nothing more than not to have him in her life.
word count: 2.5k
warnings: nsfw 18+, language, angst, fluff, smut [...probably]. no posting schedule.
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You slipped your phone carefully into your backpack, cursing low. It hadn't stopped blowing up since you took the opportunity to unwind a little with a few after-work drinks. You were generally an automatic no, so giving the affirmative to a question perennially asked just to be polite was met with more confusion than excitement - you weren't sure how it made you feel. Your social skills felt like they were severely lacking (not to mention the pop culture references you were behind on unless it was, of course, Taylor Swift)... You simply weren't social anymore. 
You mostly tolerated your work associates, they were all friendly, smart, and considerate, but come Friday, you were on your time and couldn't wait to get home to start your weekend. You had wine, pizza and TV to catch up on and it would be perfect. Basic in its simplicity and you didn't care what anyone else thought.
"One more drink," your co-workers begged. 
"Let loose, we never get to hang out aside from work," they added.
And while you were having a pretty good night, you had other reasons to be home - 
But the revelry was about to end as hoots and hollers of patrons in the bar overcame a raucous Friday night crew as a group of sailors walked in. Grand in their whites, gleaming, broad grins, covers and sunglasses in the dim, overcrowded room. Your eyes scanned each one like they always did when moments like this materialised. 
Your heart rate elevated, and the hairs on your arm pricked up. Hands clammy - 
The warning signals in your brain were firing louder than an air raid siren. That face you never expected to see again among that crowd, and it was more handsome than you could even recall.
Bradley Bradshaw. Your first... everything. Young and dumb, you fell head over heels for that boy with his head in the clouds and that impish grin. He who dreamed big, much bigger than you ever could imagine.
Tall, broad, tanned, unassuming. He was surreal, it felt like a dream how he’d just returned your life without warning. This wasn’t his hometown, so you knew he was here for work. A nightmare occurred even as you rose from your place at the small cocktail table and started making your apologies for the drink just placed before you, reaching eagerly for your bag and other random belongings you’d whipped out. 
That you had to get home, "Oh, look at the time - " that you had to go - 
You had to just get the hell out of The Hard Deck. You knew better, even if the time to now had been on your side in previous ventures to the joint. 
The crowd swarmed them, and you took your opportunity to try and get out without being noticed. You knew Bradley had no idea you would be there. The beautiful man was immediately surrounded by striking women all vying for his attention, and although he appeared to enjoy it, he was keeping them all at bay. You could see that from your safe distance.
But that last tequila had done you in and you had to get to the bathroom before you got into the Uber - while you weren't feeling the effects of the alcohol, you felt could be ill at any moment. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," you hissed to yourself, slamming the cubicle door after you, the safety of the bathroom gave you small comfort but it relieved the feeling of someone standing on your chest in any way. 
Sitting, you had no choice but to overhear the gossip of the sudden arrival of the newly decorated squad who had just entered the place, sending the bar into a tizzy.
“ - Hangman is blonder - " 
" - suave Coyote was - "
"I don't know how Natasha can be around such sexy men all the time."
"Come on, she's as talented, and dear god, she as hot as them. Don't discount her rank because of some guys. I’m sure she deals with pissing contests 24/7.”
You silently cheered for the last person's comment, whoever this Natasha was. Good for her. 
But no mention of Bradley. 
"It's like the Navy put together the sexiest aviators they had - " this person was also right. They always grandstanded like they were in movies. And tonight, even Bradley.
Flushing, you pulled yourself together and made a hasty exit strategy in your brain as you furiously washed and dried your hands. The closest door from the bathroom was also the furthest from the pool table and you were in luck as you heard the roar and the familiar opening keys to Jerry Lee Lewis' Whole Lot of Shakin' Going On.
Come on over, baby, whole lotta shakin' goin' on, Yes, I said come on over, baby, baby, you can't go wrong...
And abruptly, you were young, dumb and 21 again. Falling for this schtick then and, by God, his voice deeper than it was and you could swear, better. Sexier. Older. Bolder. Not your shy, quiet reserved college boy on his summer vacation in San Diego... but look at you now, falling for this schtick again. The way he could sway people on full display as the crowd and his friends/teammates, how were you to know, tumbled over each other at the grubby old piano you’d never seen touched to now to spread the revelry with him.
"My old man listened to this album so much when I was a kid," Bradley said quietly, delicately handing the cover to you as he wandered over to the old turntable he'd mentioned was also his father's and you watched him intently. He could make you listen to white noise or nails on a blackboard and you’d be enthralled with it. "I don't have too much of his stuff," he explained, considerate as he dropped the pin on the record tenderly. "But this song," he laughed quietly as Great Balls of Fire filled his small room of the share house he stayed at that school break. "We sang this song a lot as a family. Please don’t hold it against me, I’m very aware Lewis was a fuckin’ creep of a dude,” and you couldn’t resist your smile as he offered you his hand and danced with him. 
And how often that summer that hand lead you down a garden path of trouble. 
You probably hadn't listened to Jerry Lee Lewis since it reminded you too much of him. And of course, the artist was controversial at best, just like Bradley said but you’d never, ever forgotten the words.
And as you headed towards the door, the need to see Bradley Bradshaw just one more time overwhelmed you. His jacket stripped and sleeves of his crisp, white shirt rolled to his thick golden forearms, the collar on his shirt strained around the thick ropes of muscles of his neck and throat as his cheeks pinked in the hot room. 
Aviators sliding down his strong nose in the exhilaration of being the centre of attention. He was thriving off it. 
He was as handsome as the day you met him. The way he captured your attention as he retrieved the football that landed near your beach bag that fateful day. His soft voice of apology as his buddies teased him down play. He apologised on their behalf and asked if he could make it up to you   The way he handled the room funny to you, your once shy, quiet boy now commanding the group at the bar, singing with him, vying for his attention... singing to just get that small piece of his time. 
Home soon kiddo. Hope you had a good night with Amelia, you texted quickly.
As the song ended and the place erupted again in enraptured applause, you slinked out as more sailors slipped in and took in a deep breath, the humid beach air filling your lungs and you called for the quickest car to get you home safely... to safety. 
"Hey," you heard the voice behind you. You were so fucking close to the car... so close to escaping without a trace... but just like the old days, his voice warming you to your bones. But you couldn't bring yourself to look at him, even as he gently took your wrist and guided your body towards his. "Holy shit," you heard the small flutter of laughter in a bubble against his lips. “It is you.” He was clearly as shocked as you were. 
The softness in his rough rasp. It had haunted the better part of the last 14, 15 or so years. Dreams, nightmares. 
You were so close to breaking free of the bar without him seeing you - but that was the thing about Bradley Bradshaw. In his quiet calm, he was always watching. 
...bringing yourself to raise your eyes to him was the hardest thing you’d ever had to do. To his warm, humoured honey ones, his grin just melted you like it always had. So much about him had changed, the moustache you were perplexed about. Some faint scars marred his handsome face that you didn’t recall but they certainly didn’t look new (even if new to you). They gave him a light ruggedness, maturing him. But you could only compare him to the senior in college, eagerly awaiting his acceptance into the Naval Academy. 
And he was big. Taller, broader, stronger. BIG. 
And white certainly was his shade. He chewed his lower lip, and you were reminded of the charming boy who left you all those years ago. The man now before you who didn’t even know he had changed the course of your life.
"Hello, Bradley," you finally said, and he stood to height, the recognition in your voice as you tried to keep his gaze. His tongue tracked his upper lip and he finally smiled, not the smug arrogance on display as he and his team ponied in earlier, but the sweet genuineness that was simply Bradley. 
"Hi," he swallowed. "Been a long time," he reckoned. 
"Yeah," you agreed. 
"Looks like time has been good to you," he said, low, appreciatively.
And you laughed as he visibly relaxed, the flirt enough to break you. You weren't sure if he was trying anything, but the air was finally making it to your lungs. 
"You still livin' around here?" 
You gave a soft nod. "Yeah." 
"I'm just in town a few days," he admitted as you nodded. "I - my team and I - were just promoted. Lieutenant Commander."
"This why you're all dressed up - or were?"
"My whites?" he asked.
"I saw you come in."
"And yet you tried to sneak out before you said hi," he teased.
"I'm sorry," you admitted. "But congrats on your promotion. Kind of a big deal?"
"Yeah," he said softly. "Kind of." 
Hearing the knocks on the glass, his attention was demanded back inside. Relief swept through you as he shooed them away with a swift flick of the bird and they howled inside but left him to his devices.
"How about coffee this weekend? It would be great to catch up," Bradley pressed. "Find out what you've been up to. Husband, family, work. All that stuff."
"Ha," your voice faltered. "I'm pretty sure it's nowhere near as exciting as yours," you forced a laugh, and he really didn't seem to take the hint. His pout at your near rejection only seemed to spur him on further.
"One coffee and I'll get back on the boat and be out of your life forever," his lips quirked, and you remembered how you felt when he made that face without the moustache. He could get away with a lot then, just like he was getting away with it now. "Look... here's my number," he urged, holding out this hand as you sighed and unlocked your phone to enter the digits. You saw how he'd saved it.
Bradley Bradshaw (a big deal?). You had to laugh as he winked, relieved for the smile that crossed your features but you weren't sure if he was offended or not when you didn't offer yours in reply. 
"Kind of a big deal," you confirmed with a giggle, those nerves bubbling under the surface rapidly now. He shrugged, the cheekiness of the boy you knew still evident in the man before you.
"Text me if you wanna catch up. I wanna hear about what you've been up to since graduation all those years ago. I fly back to Virginia Tuesday."
"Fleeting."
"Very much," he agreed. Sighing (with relief, but Bradley would never catch that), your Uber was right before you. He moved around you to open the passenger door. "Been a long time..."
"Longer than you know," you admitted, slipping into the car and he carefully closed the door behind you as the driver recalled your address and you left Bradley Bradshaw for what you hoped was the last time. 
Your fingers itched to delete his number, but all you had to do was get through the next few days without the temptation to text him and it would be fine. 
Life would go on and he's sail off into the sunset again like he promised.
Home ten or so minutes later, you made a beeline for upstairs. The bedroom door closed and silent from the other side. You pushed your way in quietly, the room dark, and you sat on the side of the bed, your hands drifting to the mess of dirty dark blonde curls splayed across your daughter's pillow as she read on her phone with her earphones on.
"Hi, sweetheart," you whispered, gently pushing back a tendril on your daughter's forehead. "Bedtime?" you suggested as she shrugged. Ahh, teens. You kissed her forehead before standing and leaving her room, your beautiful girl protected under the snuggly covers. 
You didn't know how you were going to tell her that you saw her father tonight. After all these years and radio silence, doing what you could to protect her from the hurt you knew you'd caused by keeping this very real secret from Bradley. 
"Shit," you muttered, wandering the hallway to your bedroom, your nerves shot, hot tears threatening and everything you'd done so well protecting to now... about to shatter into a million pieces with the return of Lieutenant Commander Bradley Bradshaw.
masterlist.
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A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x
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lurkingshan · 9 months
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Random BL Superlatives: 2023 Edition
It's the end of the year and I'm feeling the need to give out some awards! We talk a lot about best show, best actors, best writing, best directing, blah blah but I gotta be honest, these are the categories that really spoke to me this year. In no particular order:
Best supporting garment: Porsche’s sweater, A Boss and A Babe
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Did I create this entire list just to have an excuse to post about this sweater one more time? Maybe so.
Best performance despite a terrible wig: Daou, Love in Translation
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This man managed to perform one of the hottest scenes of the year with that bowl cut monstrosity on his head. Respect must be paid.
Best new terminology: BGP, Bump Up Business
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BUB gave us so many gifts, but I will always be most thankful for the business gay performance concept (BGP), a term that is highly relevant in discussions of the bl industry.
Best advice: "Unfuck it," Tien in La Pluie
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It's not only the succinct phrasing, but also the delivery method.
Best ex who deserved better: Alan, Moonlight Chicken
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Yes, I will be staying on the Alan apologist beat in 2024, thank you for asking.
Best unexpected needle drop: Wetter, The Eighth Sense
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The moment this show captured my full attention.
Best WTF ending: The End of the World With You
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You can probably still hear my scream of "WHAT" echoing in the hills. (Actual ending not pictured in case y'all decide to watch).
Best gut punch line: "Have you been well? Without me?", Our Dating Sim
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Sure Shin Gi Tae, Lee Wan deserved it, but did I??
Best adorable child: Tane, Our Dining Table
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Need I say more??
Best weapon: sparkle murder dust, Khun Chai
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Truly the MVP of this show. I can't find an actual gif of the dust in action (too violent to be depicted) so enjoy these pretty men instead.
Best great character trapped in a bad show: Boston, Only Friends
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My beloved, I will seek vengeance in your name.
Best use of music to fuck me up: Plumeria, I Feel You Linger in the Air
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Cocktail and Tee Bundit, you know what you did!
Best meal: Chicken curry and cheese naan, What Did You Eat Yesterday?
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Yes, this category is kind of a cheat so I can mention WDYEY on this list. And what about it!
Best unhinged energy: Nawin, Laws of Attraction
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He may not have succeeded at stealing back his man but he certainly stole the show.
Best bl horror: Grand Guignol
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I just need to make sure all you jbl fans know that this movie exists and that Issei fucked Mr Unlucky!!! IYKYK.
Best character comeback: Phupha, Our Skyy 2
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From boring stoic love interest to actually compelling and kinda funny leading man! See what a little flirting with Pat Jindapat can do for you?!
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sumaneun-stars · 9 months
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I've never asked anyone on Tumblr for anything before... but I just love the posts on this account.
So would it be possible to do something related to Jay and the reader having a fight? (something angst), but with a good ending so that reading leaves us with a warm heart
'38 Missed Calls' — pjs.
a/n: awhh tyy! ofc it's possible!! omg first request let's gaur!!!
Throughout the entire drive back home, Jay thought of nothing but cuddling with you. All he wanted to do was wrap himself with you and go to sleep, with your voice as a lullaby after a tiring day. But life had a different plan.
“Y/n, I'm home” he said to no one.
Silence almost deafened his ears.
He walked into every room, only met with non living objects. He sighed. Today was not his day. He brought out his phone to dial you.
‘Sorry, this user is currently unavailable’
“What the-” he dialled Heeseung instead.
‘No I haven't seen her, sorry dude’
Sunghoon was his only hope.
‘Uhh- didn't she tell you? She said something about partnering with Chaeryeong to go to club Red Tulip’
He had only ever heard about Club Red Tulip, and he couldn't believe Sunghoon's words.
Without a second thought, he went straight through Chaeryeongs profile, knowing you didn't frequently update your page.
9.54 p.m.
The recent post was a selfie with a man by Chaeryeong’s side, but that wasn't all he saw. You, drunk in a red cocktail dress, dancing in between a crowd of random strangers.
Why didn't you tell him? Why were you here, in this vibrant mess of a club? 
He leaned against a wall as soon as he entered, slightly startled at the intensity of this place. He redialled your phone for a good 45 minutes, his anger boiling with every repetitive line that that damned AI robot spoke. Jay stopped for a second to breathe in this congested place, his eyes scanning every person to find you. 
He was exhausted, leaning his head to the wall to look at the ceiling which reflected the blinding lights. He was taken aback by an unfamiliar touch on his body. A girl was standing in front of him, dressed in hot pink with a furry pink scarf decorating her neck.
“Uh- do I know you?” He asked, holding her wrist so it wouldn't wander around anymore (except her left hand took over)
“You don't need to. Most people come here when they wanna ditch their lovers, now let's have some fun!” she said in a high pitched, dazed voice. She wrapped her arms around him and started dancing, but Jay's mind was too far away to care. 
‘Ditch their lovers…?’
You pushed yourself through the crowd as you searched for Chaeryeong, until you found her still in the middle of a group of boys.
“Chae, I'm going home” you screamed but she barely heard.
You sighed as you made your way towards the entrance, switching on your phone which was shut down by Chaeryeong, who stated that you'd be always on the phone if you had it on. 
Before you could dial Jay, you stopped at your tracks at the blurry but sure sight. Jay, against a wall, with a girl basically grinding on him. He wasn't doing anything, not even pushing her away. You kept staring, the view getting heartbreakingly clearer with every step, until he met your eye.
“Y/n” he said, pushing the girl away from him.
You scoffed, crossing your arms as you made your way out of the red and white nightmare of a club.
“Y/n!” 
Too late. You were already in the taxi, wiping away the tears. What was wrong with him?
He entered the apartment, to find a torn apart you. You turned your head at his entrance, rage filling your eyes. You stared at him, waiting for an explanation. He walked closer to you, only for you to push him behind.
“Y/n, we can settle this if you explain”
“Me? Explain? So I'm the bad guy here?” You scoffed in anger. “So I was the one with someone grinding on me while I was already in a relationship?” You questioned him, each word louder than the next, tears blurring your vision.
“You were the one who brought me there y/n! You didn't even care to tell me” his fiery eyes turned into heartbreaking ones in the last words, adding fuel to the fire. “38 missed calls y/n. Thirty eight.” 
“Jay I-” fresh tears formed in your eyes.
“And guess what? Sunghoon was the one who told me. I guess you should go date him instead!” 
Unbelievable.
“I sent you a fucking message Jay!” His expression changed with your words. “It wasn't getting delivered, so I dialled Sunghoon instead!” You said with hot tears drenching your face.
You showed him the messages in your chat, before he took a step closer to you apologetically. Before he could hold you, you ran to the bathroom, locking the door before leaning on it.
“Y/n open up!” You heard banging, but you didn't care. Your explosion of tears overpowered his noises. How could he just assume something like that?
“Y/n…” he leaned on the other side of the door. “I'm sorry, I was in a meeting and they told us to mute our phones and I was panicking when you weren't home so I-” he stopped, realising he was rambling nonsense, making excuses.
“Y/n please forgive me, I promise I'll never do it again so why don't we just talk it out? Hm? Open the door, darling”
You opened the door after a solid five minutes, head down as you sat cross legged in front of the boy who leaned his head on the wall hopelessly. You crawled onto his lap, arms wrapped around his body and crying into the nape of his neck.
“H-hey- I-” Jay stuttered.
“Forget it” You raised your head, wiping your tears as you spoke firmly. “Never do that again”
“I promise!” He made a pledge, two fingers to his forehead before he wiped your cheeks with them.
“I can never stay mad at you” you pouted, but smiled immediately when you heard his chuckle.
“Y/n…” he said with his forehead connected to yours.
“What now?” you wiped his tears this time.
“I think I have a crush on you”
“Yeah, no shit” 
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