#(and it's hard to know who/what you're dealing with and can be a lot of emotional labor or just mild stress XD)

[secondjulia]

Hi, that lab is my brain & despite a complete lack of funding I've already spent way too long on this research (aka getting lost in the Thoughts.)

Ao3 is a beautiful relic of Old Internet(1), by which I mean it is a somewhat isolated refuge and also that the focus is on the stuff rather than on the people — which isn't to say there isn't community on Ao3 and that your experience can't be shaped (positively or negatively) by who you follow/follows you; and that's also not to say that Old Internet didn't have Personalities, you know what I mean, the Big Forum People who had to chime in on every fucking post (and the count under their avatar read like 20,000 which was A Lot back in the day) and would get into flame wars with Other Big Forum People and you had to have, like, a Side.

But it was not like This Internet where it is all about followers and following and Personality, which is sometimes called authenticity, but— [stop: unhelpful tangent] —and people have to be able to Find You (i.e. you have to be everywhere, not just, like, the little herb gardening sub-forum of the larger gardening forum that still only has like 20,000 users, i.e. only the 20,000 people in the world who really, really like gardening have found their way there.)

Anyway, Ao3 is the quiet little harbor you can just kind of be no one and post your work and — because the default sorting is date posted and because of their super specific/adaptable tagging system — people can still see it. (And also you as a reader can find the super specific random obscure thing you're looking for even if you don't know if anyone is writing it yet.) You can have 0 followers, post in the micro-est micro fandom and someone can sill find your work. I have posted in fandoms that literally did not exist on A03 before because I felt like writing something for it, and lo and behold people found it because Ao3 is built around the work not the people. I've also been the person reading fics in fandoms with works in the single digits. They were not hard to find because, again, Ao3 is built so you can find Tiny Random Niche Stuff very easily.

You can do stuff like that on New Internet/Social Media, too, of course, because you can do wtf you want. But because it is built more around personalities than material — and fucking algorithms — I personally find it is much harder both as a creator and fan.

Tumblr is the bridge between the isolated little harbors of Old Internet and the more connected New Internet. It has many aspects of modern social media with news feeds and potentially more of a personality-focused imprint if you want to use it like that. But it can also be used chronologically (people like to say Tumblr is non-algorithmic, but that isn't really true; it's just that you can have more control of/turn off those features and use it like Ye Old Chronological Newsfeeds) and anonymity is more the norm here than elsewhere (source: absolutely anecdotal. I know people use other stuff anonymously, too & some people use real names on tumblr. But it was still a massive culture shift to go from the norm of SuperNicheInterestUserNames to OhWe'reUsingOurRealNamesOnTheInternetNow(2)?!) So it retains some of the comfort and utility of the old ways while letting you make more connections without drowning in the sea of how we're doing things now.

I don't actually think one way of doing things is overall better because Old Internet had a lot of problems and New Internet definitely has its uses.

But I do think a halfway place like Tumblr is specifically helpful for the people who have found refuge in a removed, niche space like Ao3 and who maybe don't want to deal with the hyperconnected/public mess of the current internet.

(I think it's also interesting that Ao3 & Tumblr appeal to both young people who never knew the Old Internet as well as to us olds who used to live there, but that is another tangent.)

___

Notes:

(1) despite not being that old. It's like Ao3 is RP-ing 1999 but taking it Extremely Seriously. They are the person who puts designs on the inside of Theoden's armor or wears accurate undergarments to the Renn Faire because these things are important.

(2) I personally came to the horrifying realization of We're Using Our Real Names Now in the early 2000s when I showed up to Skype job interviews with my standard OldEnglishFairyName handle and realized everyone else was just RealName. Awkward and devastating. RIP old ways.

the symbiotic relationship between tumblr and AO3 should be studied in a lab

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

tl;dr: how do i become ok with my partner using porn? do i have to become ok with it?

detail/context: i am in a LDR. im demisexual, my partner is allosexual.

i thought i was ok with porn use at first, but about a year into the relationship i realized it bothers me a lot. i feel like im not enough, and i really dont know how i could ever be better than the limitless amount of content on the internet. it felt especially bad after my partner mentioned that they would probably continue to use porn even when we close the distance and live together. i tried my best to make peace with it, but found myself crying like 3x the usual amount, so i talked to my partner about. i already felt guilty, because i told them i dont care about porn use before, and now i suddenly was not cool with it. i felt like i was deceiving them. but my partner was very understanding and said they will stop using porn because they care more about me than any of that. which is great and very sweet of them! its been a few months and they told me that while they miss porn somewhat, its not really a big deal.

except now, several months later, i keep feeling like im taking something from them. i feel im being unreasonable and abusive and selfish. like, all the other progressive people are totally cool with it. so why is it so hard for me? what the fuck do i do.

some other relevant bits: i dont look at porn myself bc it generally speaking does nothing for me. me and my partner still masturbate, mostly to each other's nudes. i told them i dont care if the fantasize about whatever they want, but in their words, they cant really masturbate without some sort of visual input. they have some rather extreme kinks they dont want to involve me in even in imagination, so thats what they mostly used porn for, and also the main thing that makes me feel like im taking something away from them.

hi anon,

god okay there's a lot of meat on this question, let's do this.

first thing's first, because this is important: this is not abusive behavior. stop that. asking your partner to stop doing something that makes you feel stressed and upset is not what abuse it. that's called "being a human person with feelings and wants" and it's not illegal.

okay, so, second: do you need to be okay with your partner using porn? I mean, no. you don't have to be okay with anything, technically. your boundaries can be whatever you want them to be. but given the distress you're still feeling even though your partner has fully acquiesced to the thing you asked for and, frankly, sounds pretty fine with it, there's clearly some lingering dissatisfaction on your end. you wouldn't be here if the situation was as simple as "asked my partner not to use porn anymore, they don't, all is well, thumbs up emoji."

so that brings us to your first question, which is how you, sweet anon, can learn to be okay with this. I'm going to tell you straight up: I don't have a singular hard answer to that. I don't know you, I don't know your brain and the specific emotional baggage you bring to this, everyone is different, etc etc. but like. let's talk about it.

here's the thing: me personally, I don't understand why people are bothered by their partners enjoying porn. like, I get it in theory, especially when it's a situation where you're describing where you feel you're being negatively compared. and don't get me wrong, I've definitely worked with some people with real shithead partners who explicitly WERE comparing them to actors in porn, saying they wished they looked more like the actors, etc. and that absolutely is uncool, we do not condone.

but in general, to me, it kind of feels like this: suppose you're a cook, right? you're a great cook, you love to do it. and nothing makes you happier than making a big delicious meal for you and your beloved partner to share together. and they like eating your food! of course they do! you prepare it with love and you know all of their favorite things.

they're still going to want oreos sometimes.

and that's not a slight on you. it's not that you're cooking is worse than oreos. it's not that you're failing to make them happy and there's a gaping hole in their soul that only an oreo can fill. it's not that they're sitting with you at the dining table eating your delicious homemade meals thinking "goddamn, I wish this was just a plate full of oreos." it's just that, you know, oreos are yummy and sometimes they really hit the spot. you can like two things without either of those things negating or diminishing the other.

and I'm, like, absolutely not under the impression that a dinky oreos metaphor is going to totally change how you feel about this. I want to be so clear that I don't think you're being, like, heinous or unreasonable or anything. you're feeling a very real distress, and I have to imagine that it's exacerbated by the fact that you and your partner are long distance and you might feel like you're failing to show up for them in a lot of ways, including sexually. that's a very normal reason to feel insecure! a lot of people do! long distance relationships seem really hard! and I think realistically the only way through this discomfort, if you do want to go through the discomfort, is to really zero in on what's making you feel uncomfortable and insecure about your partner jacking it to something other than you, and honestly talk them about the areas where you're feeling like something may be lacking and find ways to mutually reassure each other that everything's cool. you know, get that reassurance that they do in fact love and enjoy your delicious meals and that the oreos don't negate that.

lastly, and I cannot emphasize this enough, it's fine if your partner watching porn never feels super comfortable for you. you're allowed to ask your partner not to do things! if they really hate it they need to say something about it! idk it can be very admirable to want to change your view on things but also most people have some stuff that's just always going to feel like a boundary they don't want to compromise and that's Fine.

[cherie-doll]

Jello! so ive been reading a lot of your works this week, they are so good holy hell! I love the way you write CoD characters in a way that doesn't mischaracterize them.

So I was wondering if you could do COD men dealing with a reader who has awful adhd burnout?? After months of being visibly "hyper" and talkative they just shutdown and sometimes tend to lay in bed for days on end, even not being able to eat cause they get so down? Its not like they are lazy but its obvious they get extremely mentally and physically drained?

This is one of my first ever requests so if u dont wanna do this that's alright, u can ignore this lol. I hope ur having a great day or week :P

woahhh, thank you!! im rlly happy you enjoy my hcs and how i write characters, it takes me a while but i see the effort is worth it :D <33

=͟͟͞♡ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

COD Men w/ Reader who has adhd burnout

:‹ Price would one day come home to find the house a little messy; maybe some chores haven't been done or there's just silence. He walks in to find you lying in bed, the tv isn't on, no music or any signs of you occupying yourself with anything. It seems you aren't asleep either though. He doesn't directly ask you why you haven't done anything, instead he greets you like usual; in his tender, loving way. He presses a kiss against your temple as he gently murmurs a greeting. You startle a bit, not having noticed him there. You thought it was still early morning, not having taken note of how the day went by and you couldn't get started on anything. It's always been a little difficult but at least you had some sort of initiative, now, you feel like you can't even think of what to do first. But he doesn't pressure you, instead enveloping you in a comfort you can recharge in.

:‹ Simon had picked up on your recent feelings of being overwhelmed; you had a hard time thinking and couldn't even do tasks. He had become cautious; not needing to ask or pry to know he had to provide some support for you. Even more when he noticed you didn't stay up an extra hour to enjoy your favorite hobby and instead went straight to sleep. It felt like you couldn't get enough rest, the night would pass by quickly and still your mind felt foggy; unable to clear for the next day ahead. Simon knew any small change would feel like too much for you right now, you could barely handle your current schedule. You just needed to recharge a bit, and he completely understood that. While he preferred staying productive he wouldn't push that onto you, if anything he would take care of some things until you felt ready to help too.

:‹ Johnny isn't great at reading you. He does his best at picking up cues on your behavior, but it really is difficult if you're just closing your eyes, trying to breathe without letting your emotions get the upper hand again. You've withdrawn; only switching from laying in bed, covered in blankets to your little space where you usually enjoy your hobbies like drawing, writing or listening to music.. but even that feels like too much. You can't even think clearly. You're so tired and you wish to sleep, but your dreams are restless and you wake up. Johnny misses you when you close up like this, he loves hearing you talk and go on for hours on end about your day or whatever other topics you ricochet to and from. But he is caring and considerate. He won't push anything onto you, or ask too many questions that might disturb you. He knows you've always been a hard worker, so he'll let you rest for a long time. And he'll be waiting to hear your enthusiastic voice again when you're feeling better.

:‹ Kyle would gently encourage you to ask for help if you feel like you really need it. Of course, he wouldn't say it right away, he would give you time and try his best to be the supporting partner that you need him to be. Eventually, out of worry he'll try to get you to talk about it with him or someone else if that's what you are most comfortable with. When you do try to take on tasks or things you need to do, he makes sure you take breaks and time to relax again if you are starting to get overwhelmed. The last thing he'd want is for you to get restarted on the cycle and go back to being unable to do anything. Not because he dislikes seeing you do nothing but because he knows how you get when you can't do anything. You almost blame yourself for feeling like this, and he wishes you could talk to him more about it. But he does what he can in helping you. He just wants you to feel alright.

:‹ Roach isn't much to talk and prefers to just sit in silence and admire you with puppy eyes when you talk. Literally how y'all spent quality time together. Naturally, he'd be alarmed at the fact that you've completely quiet and won't speak. It's been more than 24 hours and you're still in bed, not really turning to look at him and just staring into space or trying to sleep. At first, he may think you're upset at him, perhaps he did something wrong. But then he takes notice of the fatigue in your eyes, how you can barely answer him when he softly asks a question. You don't want to be treating him like this, but it's just so hard to regulate and let alone express how you feel right now. You can barely begin to describe this feeling before being able to form a sentence. Thankfully, he isn't one to take things to heart too soon because he places your feelings over his. He can see it has nothing to do with him by the way you let him lie close to you. You will be fine for now like this since he's so understanding.

:‹ Alejandro may find it hard to understand or see things from your perspective. You were fine a couple days ago; why the sudden change? You've been in this repeating cycle that you can't break out of and it has you sick. You try doing things for him, try to get yourself together but nothing is working. You can barely function and he notices this, thinks something is deeply wrong as it disturbs him to see you like this. He's immediately dropping anything he was planning on doing or asking of you to instead find out what's wrong. You weren't planning on really telling him and just shrugging him off but he asked if you needed anything and you hesitated. He can ready you pretty well so he nodded, as if there was an exchange of words in that silence. He told you to take it easy and encouraged you to rely on him as much as you needed to. It was refreshing to feel that coming from him.

:‹ Rodolfo would require some self control to not go overboard on the caretaking. He already likes doing everything for you, but when you're unable to get anything done it can be overbearing to see him want to solve everything as soon as he can. Your attempts to push him away make him realize that he needs to take a different approach. Yes, your health is important but he also needs to know how you feel. He takes a moment to listen to you if you feel ready to express your feelings. He tries to help you figure out what exactly is causing you to feel drained, maybe it was something that happened recently that you've been thinking about too much. Perhaps you just needed some time to winddown after being focused for so long on certain tasks. He still continues to care for you but also steps back some if you need some space to breath.

:‹ Phillip is always praising you for how well you treat him, all you do for him and nod along to anything you say. But feeling like you've been lacking in a department you can't quite name have taken over instead. It's not anything he's said or done that have necessarily made you feel this way. There's been no motivation to fuel you or keep you from even doing what you love. Since you can't get anything done you feel down and Phillip has taken notice. He can be soft and gentle with you. He'll ask why you haven't done something and it might make you feel worse but it truly wasn't his intention. If you don't answer he'll be okay with that too. He doesn't require a reason from you. He's always wanted you to be happy and content; it's been his motivation since you've gotten together. Obviously, he'd be wanting to intervene if he notices you being visibly upset.

:‹ Makarov isn't always around as much as you'd like him to be. So, it can sometimes be very confusing to him to leave with you being very talkative and energetic to coming back and you're suddenly very quiet. He notices how low energy you are, and he worries thinking you might be sick. It's not often he gets to see you like this unless something is wrong so he's asking what happened, if you've come down with something and might even suggest going to the doctor. Since he's noticed your physical signs of burnout he takes those as indications that you're sick. He takes more notice and worry about your headaches and pain rather than the way you clench your jaw or your obvious anxious self. Don't get him wrong, he wants to help but may not know how to give it correctly.

:‹ Keegan is used to seeing you be up and about; here and there switching from one activity to another. So he's never worried about keeping you occupied while he's away or busy. But seeing you so still and unmotivated makes him feel disturbed. Like there's something wrong but he can't put a finger on it. His mind won't immediately go to different possibilities, instead he'll want to take some sort of action but first he'll assess the situation. It's obvious there's something more troubling than just fatigue gnawing at you. You seem tired mentally too. Poor guy has been there before but he won't compare to how you feel. He values your feelings so much more and he won't ever fully know how you feel or think but the best he can do is try, right? He'll be as patient as he can to try and understand. And it's the most effort anyone has ever made for you.

:‹ König would get so worried if he noticed you weren't eating or taking care of yourself. Like you're so tired, you feel spent and can't seem to get an ounce of energy from sleeping, so you don't even bother getting up to grab anything to eat. You've only drank from the half empty water cups and bottles on your nightstand which have probably started to accumulate dust by now. König doesn't know what to do with you. He tries showing you his phone, silently asking if you want to order some takeout but you shake your head. You probably won't finish it, and you feel like it's unfair to him. He's not much of a cook but he manages to make something simple and leave it at your bedside to see if you'll at least nibble on it. You think he's waiting for you to get up soon but he stays beside you, keeping you company. He just wants to make sure you don't sink deeper and be alone during this.

:‹ Horangi knows how certain things may be difficult for you to do but that's why you two have a routine curated for you. So when he notices you acting so unusual he goes to address it right away. It's not done with the intention to get you working right away but rather to keep your feelings in check, since he knows it's likely feelings that have been brewing for some time. You've had to put in double the work and effort to be the person you are today, and he knows it wouldn't be fair to disregard your feelings to label you as "lazy" just because you feel overwhelmed. Perhaps things have been unbalanced for some time and that is why you're like this. He'll readjust anything to your current needs to get you to feeling better in no time. Won't ever overload you with responsibilities if you don't feel ready yet. He's your partner for a reason; he doesn't mind.

:‹ Nikto assumed you were coming down with a cold or something. He's not the best at noticing things, if he slows down and cares enough to pay attention you'll find that he can be quite observative at times though. "You're not sick", he'll say standing at your bedside after you've skipped dinner again. You would at least reach out for the warm tea that he has offered, but you can't bring yourself to touch the mug and leave it to cool on the nightstand. He asks if you want to do something and you say you're not in the mood when usually you'd pounce at the opportunity to do anything with him. He can't help but feel a little wounded, but this is no time to wallow in his feelings when clearly you've got more of those than he does. He's not good enough with words to provide encouragement or give you a burst of energy through communication. But his silent attempts of aid should work with time.

[writing-girlie]

Kiss it better

Pairing: Tommy Miller x Fem!reader

Blurb: You get injured on your first patrol without Tommy, when you return he wants to make you feel better.

WC: 2k

Warnings: Soft smut, P in V and oral (f receiving)

Notes: He's such a cutie 😭

You heard the workload that Tommy was having to deal with lately, he was being pulled in five different directions. You were supposed to do patrol with him today but he took you both off because he currently didn't have the time. Every patrol you did was with him, it's just how it is. Wherever you were he was close behind. 

You find him around camp talking to some of the other men. His sleeves are rolled and his eyebrows are pinched in the middle, when he notices you it softens a little. You wander closer. 

“I still want to do my patrol.” He looks at you, his brows now raised.

“Without me?” His lips fall into a small frown, you can tell he's not fond of the idea and it makes you hesitate for a moment. 

“You can pick who I go with.” He looks at you for a long second.

“Not today, sweetheart. You can wait till tomorrow”

“I'll be careful, Tommy. Please.” A small pout sits pretty on your lips – one you know he's weak for. You can see the conflict on his face. He knows he can trust you but he knows he wouldn't be there to protect you if something went wrong. You step closer, fingers gently wrapping around his bicep. He exhales deeply through his nose.

“Fine” He gently lifts your chin, making sure that you're looking at him “But you keep your eyes open and if anything, and I mean anything, feels wrong you come straight back. You hear me?”

“I promise” You nod and kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

He sent you with Mike. The patrol started smoothly, it was quiet, Mike didn't talk much but you didn't mind. About halfway through the weather had made a turn, it was overcast and the wind was picking up. You reach one of the old barns that still stands. Mike takes left and you take right, just a quick check to make sure there's no threats. 

Once you're in you hear it, you barely turn in time to see the clicker behind you. When you step forward you trip over your own foot, falling hard to the floor before you could react properly. Your gun skids just out of reach, kicking up dust.

You try to scurry backwards while feeling around for your gun. The clicker moves toward you and you feel your lungs tighten. 

A gunshot cracks through the air and it collapses in front of you. You whip your head around to see Mike and exhale heavily. 

“You good?” He holds his hand out and helps you up. 

“Yeah, yeah. All good” You weren't really. Your heartbeat echoed loudly in your ears and your leg ached. When you look down your pants were ripped and there's a gash along your right shin. You must've grazed it on the large rock beside you when you fell.

You wrap it lightly not wanting to use a lot of the supplies and continue on your way, limping back home. 

You only just get in the gates when Tommy notices that you're back. You try to walk normally, like the injury beneath the blood-soaked bandage isn't throbbing with each step but he knows you well. His posture stiffens then he's walking towards you – fast. You pass your gun and the backpack to Mike to put away. 

“What happened?” Tommy is in front of you in no time, his voice firm. 

“Nothing. I'm fine” You say quickly. Too quickly. Tommy steps closer. 

“You're bleeding” His eyes flicker down to your leg. “Try again, what happened?”

“There was a clicker in the north barn.” Your voice is quiet. Tommy's face hardens. “Didn't hear it till it was too late.” His jaw ticks. It's like he doesn't know whether to get mad or hide you away from the world. “Mike shot it though, before it could do anything. I'm okay, Tommy. The cut was just from falling”

“No, you're not.” You open your mouth but close it again. He mumbles something about how you shouldn't have been out there. You don't know why you respond but you do.

“You said I could go.” You say softly, like a reminder. 

“Should’ve said no,” he mutters, finally. “Knew I’d fuckin regret it.” He doesn't wait anymore. One arm goes around your back and the other scoops under your knees, and before you can protest he's lifting you. You want to argue but to be honest your leg is in so much pain and you're tired. He carries you to his place and into his bedroom. He sets you down carefully, like you might break if he moves too fast.

He kneels in front of you and his hands grasp at your waistband, pulling them down your legs, gently over the bandage.

“Should’ve never let you go,” he mutters, more to himself than to you as he peels the bloody cloth, revealing the long cut. Every time he dabs it with the wet and cold towel you flinch. 

“Sorry.” His hands are steady. “Almost done” When he's finished cleaning it he wraps it back up firmly and places a kiss on the skin just above it. You reach for him, fingers brushing his cheek, rough with stubble.

“Tommy” You want him to look at you. 

“I told myself I'd keep you safe” He looks at you. “That's all I've been trying to do since you arrived.”

“You have.” His hand covers yours, closing his eyes briefly.

“I wasn't there and you got hurt.” You can feel his jaw twitching under your palm. “That's on me” You want to argue with him, tell him it wasn't his fault, remind him that you're not a kid and it wasn't your first patrol but the way he's looking at you makes you stop. It's like you getting hurt pained him more than the cut hurt you. 

“I'm okay”

“As long as I'm breathing you ain't got nothing to be scared of. Never gonna get hurt again.”

He holds your hand a moment longer before moving it down into your lap as he stands up. He leans over, your faces an inch apart then you both move in to close the gap. He kisses you tenderly, it's soft but you feel everything. He pulls back, just enough to look at you.

“If you don't wanna, we-” You cut him off with a kiss and slowly push your tongue past his lips, deepening it. There's a sound that sits low in his throat.

Your fingers slip under the hem of his shirt, skimming over his warm skin. He's solid beneath your touch, strength from years of working and surviving. He watches you with a soft smile. You lift his shirt up and over his head, running your hands over his chest, thumb brushing over a fading scar, one you remember patching for him some time ago. 

He reaches for the hem of your shirt and you raise your arms for him. He tosses it by his on the floor.

“You're so beautiful” He says admiring you. You shake your head with a soft laugh.

“You always say that when you take my shirt off” He brushes his nose against yours.

“Mmm, so not enough?” He murmurs, his breath tickles your skin and he places a succession of kisses from your cheek to your hairline.

His large hands slowly drag up your stomach. “You’re so soft.” He says, quiet enough that you almost didn't hear it. His fingers glide around to your back and unclips your bra. The straps slide down your arms.

“You don’t know what you do to me” he whispers. His fingers trail back down, leaving goosebumps in their wake. They hook around your panties and he drags them down your legs. 

“Lay down. Head on the pillow” He nods towards the head of the bed. You follow his instructions promptly. You lie back, watching as he gets onto the bed, on his stomach. He lifts your left leg over his shoulder and hangs the other over the edge of the bed, spreading you open. Then, he licks a slow, deliberate path from your entrance to your clit. The touch of his tongue sends a small jolt through you, he takes his time, attentive to each movement and sound you make. 

“Tommy” You exhale his name. He hums in response, the vibration sending a wave of pleasure. It makes your thighs close around his head but he pushes them back open. His hand sits on your lower stomach, keeping you still. He points his tongue and draws quick flicking motions, up and down, over and over. You thread your fingers into his hair, not to guide him, just to feel him.

Your back arches off the bed, a gasp escaping your lips. He uses that as an opportunity to slide his hand from your stomach to your back to support it and pull you closer. Your head falls back against the pillow, eyes fluttering shut as ecstasy builds inside you.

“Please” You whimper, not even sure what you're asking for. Everything he's doing already feels like heaven. He groans against you, making your fingers tighten in his hair. 

“God, yes” your hips buck up against his face,  his relentless tongue bringing you closer. “Tommy… I'm gonna-” You moan “fuck, I can't-” You pant, your words trail off into another moan. You shudder under him and a final flick of his tongue has pleasure crashing over you.

Your legs clamp around his head and this time he doesn't stop, he just continues to lap at your sensitive pussy till you pull your hips back and push his head away. 

He sits up onto his knees, running a hand through his tousled hair. He grins at you, his mouth and stache slick with your juices. You sit up and reach for his jeans, undoing the button and zip. You pull them down, with his boxers, as much as you can until he takes over and kicks them off, over the end of the bed.

He presses kisses along your skin the whole way until his face is in front of yours. You move your head forward kissing him, tasting yourself.

His erection is heavy against your thigh as he continues to kiss you. He reaches between you, lining up with your entrance and breaks the kiss to watch you as he slowly thrusts in. You gasp at the feeling, your nails digging into his shoulders. He pauses, allowing you to adjust to his size before he begins to move, slow and deep.

You keep your eyes locked on his and wrap your legs around his hips. His mouth finds your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin, marking you as his. A moan escapes your lips involuntarily and you can feel him smile.

The room is filled with soft moans, low groans and the bed creaking beneath you. He kisses you again as though he has nowhere else to be, nothing else to do but love you like this. He shifts, leaning on one elbow so he can reach down, his fingers find your clit. You whimper into his mouth, and you tighten around him. 

“Just like that. C’mon baby. Let go for me.”

“I-” you start but your words turn into a broken moan as your orgasm takes over. Your body arches into his and you fall apart in his arms.

“Fuck, baby-” He buries himself deep with a final thrust, pulsing inside you. He lowers down onto you, his body on top of yours feeling like security and safety. The world slows down, all you can hear is the sound of your breathing and the thud of your heart beating.

“You okay?” His fingers brush some hair from your face. You nod. 

“Yeah, a lot better actually.”

“Good”

[cosmicalily]

cosmic convos | @cosmicalily's not-so-fictional thoughts and ideas

hi angels, i wanted to pop on here and chat about something that i've been thinking about a LOT recently, both in relation to kpop and kpop fandoms, but also in real life! i don't normally like to make big statements like this regarding situations, as i'm a big believer in only talking about things i'm fully educated in and properly understand, not just things that make me seem like a 'good person' for saying. i'll be very honest; the stray kids fandom hasn't been my favourite thing to be associated with recently. i'm obviously not talking about the fans that i'm friends with, and the lovely people who follow me and interact with me on here, but the ones who continually keep taking advantage of people, and also just being downright disrespectful and invasive under the guise of 'care' and 'love'. the fandom has grown a lot since i first joined it back in 2021, which is obviously incredible for the boys, and i'm so proud of them. however, the bigger a fandom gets, the more toxic it can get, and unfortunately, due to the effect of conformity, the more that toxicity increases, the more it's normalised and practiced. i know a lot of people find a lot of love and comfort in kpop idols, and this is something that i totally support and have even spoken about before, however there is a level to which 'finding comfort' blurs into 'entirely reliant', which is not okay. having complete dependance on a human being, regardless of whether they're a celebrity and don't know you, or someone present in your day to day life, is a type of attachment that is not healthy at all, and i'm noticing it's becoming increasingly more normalised. of course, as people, we need support from one and other and can't be entirely independant, but there's also a level to which the expectations you put on someone to be there for you reach the point of exploitation. i think this line gets crossed far too frequently in kpop fandoms because we forget that they're not just a celebrity, they're a human. could you imagine being the sole source of comfort and protection for a literal population of teenagers? that's fucking nightmare fuel. i think there's also a massive issue in fandoms regarding both the victim and the hero complex. people feel the need to be the ones being 'saved' by someone, or feel the need to be the one 'saving' someone. this leads to jumping to conclusions, creating toxic expectations and overall intrusive behaviour that isn't fair on either end of the spectrum. i feel like people are genuinely lacking emotional intelligence these days, and are just posting things to make them look like 'good' fans, when they actually don't understand the situation or even care about it. if you actually cared about them, you'd listen and respect their boundaries, not push them to try and figure out 'what's wrong' or conspire that they're 'hiding something'. and, for the love of god, please stop trauma dumping on idols. they're not trained psychologists. this is not their job. providing care and love towards the fandom is fanservice, giving you advice on dealing with depression isn't. also, they're not fucking trained to give you advice, so not only is it unfair to them, it's probably not accurate. if you're really struggling, please go see a therapist, or speak to someone close to you. i know seeking support is hard, and it can be difficult to find the right people and trust someone enough to talk about it, but why would a stranger on the internet be any more effective? they don't know you, they don't know how to help. it's an awkward situation on both ends, and it won't be of any benefit to you or them. i fucking adore stray kids still, but i'm resonating less and less with the fandom each day. xxx, lils

[fratellis-pizzeria]

Proship is literally just anti censorship, because bookburning is what nazis do, and because fiction Is Not Real.

Imagine if someone got abused in an avg relationship and said that every single relationship ever was inherently abusive and said that no one can ever be in a relationship ever again, solely because they personally experienced abuse. This is literally what you are doing. Your experience is not proof that generalization is okay, you are literally just a nazi.

WOHOAH COOL YOUR JETS BUDDY THIS IS THE FUNNIEST FUCKING THING IVE EVER BEEN SENT WHAT DEMONS ARE YOU FIGHTING HERE DUDE

Thank you for this though, because you have now given me an opportunity to air out a bunch of shit I've wanted to say but never knew where to start with!

First of all, not true! Proshipping is in fact not "literally just anti censorship", I can concretely say this because I am in fact, actually anti censorship like a normal person, and I do not identify as proship! Novel concept I know (OR antiship for the matter, both sides are tar pits that were disastrous for my OCD and I try to avoid involvement with either as much as I can.)

Y'see where you start making up a person that does not exist is the fact that I actually do believe that darker topics like trauma and incest CAN be discussed in fiction, and arguably that they SHOULD be. The issue arises for me an most other people when you're going down the delicate line of a respectful depiction and take a hard left turn into fetishization and romanticizing it when it's something that can an has actually ruined real peoples lives. Fiction DOES have an effect on reality, otherwise why would fiction be made at all?

I'm not even going to entertain that downright insane strawman you threw at me in that last part so I'm gonna skip right to what I really want to say here lmao.

Now, you don't really see this on this blog but on my main I have a long history of writing about nearly every single character I own going through unimaginable traumas and horrible situations, I actually am guilty of a lot of the more (arguably innocent- at least if it wasn't done so shittily) things Kittycorn has done myself, because I have several publicly posted characters who are very obviously based on people I used to know who did horrible things to me that I use to work through my feelings about them and what happened, where it differs though is that they aren't just a carbon copy of the person or a hollow shell just to fulfill my desires or whatever the fuck, they were still actively written to be their own people separated from the ones they were based on as much as would be reasonable in my eyes, not out of a desire to put those people through the torture nexus or something, but to write out actual closure that I've never actually gotten at a single turn in my entire life. If it weren't for my desire to create and put my feelings on paper in the form of colorful little creatures and animals I genuinely do not think I would still be here talking to you faceless little gray cowards right now.

I say this to emphasize that what Kittycorn is doing is not healthy, the people kit is surrounded with are not good for her, and no matter what she tells herself this will not change until she gets out of there and into a healthier environment, and with how its looking and how kits behaved in the past about this I don't think that's ever going to happen. I am not here to downplay anything she went through, I am simply here to say that making a world where everything is just peaches and cream and a neon furry incest slop utopia is not closure and not a healthy way to go about any of this, and don't even get me started on the fact that she apparently had included fetish material in sparklecare while MINORS were on the crew, and whatever the fuck was the deal with og cometcare from top to bottom honestly, and everything that was done to the victims to rope them into being okay with the mess, and shielding known predators and continuing to be buddy-buddy with them in spite of it all because they enable her and wont take kit out of her incest fantasy world. And I could probably keep going honestly. There is no coming back from this shit dude there's no if ands or buts about that here, what kc has done is completely and utterly fucked through and through this is FAR beyond just a "pro vs anti" argument.

I have long since given up all empathy toward Kittycorn and any hope of her actually getting better by this point, and no amount of calling me an ACTUAL NAZI (????????) is going to change the fact that this isn't actual censorship, this is simply the consequences of her actions, I don't know how to break it to you bud but its not against the first amendment to experience personal repercussions for the insane shit you post on the internet, almost makes me wonder why you'd send this on anon instead of showing your face? Almost like you do understand that to be true and don't want this rightfully thrown back at you, but hey, what do I know? I'm "literally just a nazi" right?

And if you see this congrats on being my first ever anon hate by the way !! cheers to you luv xoxo I am never making a post like this again if I can help it <3

[kabukeo]

colored this thing for fun

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

i still can't get over my roommate implying i was autistic and my friend pulling out her phone to show me the "i'm like if a beautiful woman was an autistic little boy" meme that she'd been saving for the occasion someone acknowledged it

[madamechrissy]

Pour it Up Masterlist / Stripclub Owner Sukuna headcanons

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight (final)

Pairings: Stripclub Owner Sukuna x Stripper F!reader

Summary:- You are a single mother, your baby daddy is not just worthless, he also is actively trying to sabotoge you, so you go out on your own and raise your kid by yourself. Struggling your ass off, a friend of a friend named Toji decides to offer you a hell of a deal, a few hours a night at a strip club to make BANK. While there, you meet the other owner, Sukuna, and the moment he sees you? You annoy him how beautiful you are, how much he wants you, pushing him to insanity. He knows he must have you- no matter whose ass he needs to beat.

Warnings:- reader is a mom, lowkey/highkey Yandere Sukuna behavior (He's obsessed) recreational drug use, drug dealing Sukuna (the club lowkey a front lol) Mafia ties, EXPLICIT sexual content, blow jobs, cunnilingus, fingering, masturbation, teasing and mafia related violence, some former trauma of reader, lots of smut and also fluff, watch Kuna morph into a softie hehe.- Ties into the Satoru x reader story Losing Control Now

FInished- WC 54k - ao3 link here - Playlist

Headcanons/story preview below!

Stripclub Owner Sukuna- who loves what he does, the money he makes, the women, the entire atmosphere. What more could he really need in life?

Stripclub Owner Sukuna lights up a blunt with his co owner, Toji, as they lounge back on one of the bright red Sofa's, watching their girls dance around them while they hold business meetings. Sukuna certainly doesn't mind beautiful women, nor does he mind snorting coke right off them.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna throws back a shot, when suddenly he sees someone so different, so fucking pretty it makes his heart thud in his chest. He can barely stop himself from yanking you right away from this. He's slicking back pastel hair when Toji introduces you so casually, wearing a pretty silver bikini that shows too much of your sexy body. You look shy? You look nervous?

Stripclub Owner Sukuna takes your hand then, smirking at you, watching the blush decorate your cheeks, when he finds you're going to be a dancer, he immediately wants to say no, dance for just him, a level of possession he's never even felt with his girlfriends. Sukuna's shared plenty of women, but if he got you!?

Stripclub Owner Sukuna smacks Toji for even bringing you here later, and Toji scoffs. 'She has a kid and shit, she'll make top dollar here' Sukuna falters at such news. 'Don't ya think she'll make bank?' 'Tch, of course she will... it's just she's so...' Toji snorts. 'you got the hots for her, huh? Well she ain't some easy girl, I know her'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna knows he must have you, when you're stepping around the stage, and he's eyeing you, sitting right in front of the stage as you get on your knees, crawling toward him and smiling shyly. 'how're you a shy stripper, huh? not gonna work' he huffs, and you tilt your head, hand slipping down his tie. 'No allure in a shy dancer, Mr. Sukuna?'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna loses his mind when he hears his name spilled from your glossy lips, as he thinks of shoving his cock deep inside that mouth, so close to his when you turn. You bend over, ass right in the air, begging for a smack as you look back at him, hair falling over your face. 'Why're you here?' he demands, eyeing the curve of your back, cock hard like he's some pathetic teenager or something.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna tenses when you say - 'I need the money, isn't it why everyone does this?' 'Toji says you got a kid' you tense then, turning toward him nervously, as the stagelights glimmer all over your skin. 'That a problem?' Sukuna shakes his head. "Nah, lots of girls here do...' You exhale. 'I'm a single mom, my friend can watch her at night, why not work while she's asleep? I can spend my time with her'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna admires the fuck out of you as you dance your pretty ass off, but he hates the men that see you, see you in just your little bottoms and tassells, breasts bouncing, ass jiggling as you shake it, as you move. You're a whole star quickly, the few hours a night you come in you make bank, but as soon as you leave, he's in his office, jerking it to you, imagining those nipples, that pussy he sees hints of with your spandex panties.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna On one particular night forgets to lock the door, you're still out there dancing but he can't take it, you're too fucking sexy, he's picturing burying his face in that nice ass of yours as you step inside, shutting the door quickly when you see it, his enormous dick in his hands, covered in precum. You gasp, looking away quickly. 'shit I'm sorry, it's my ex... he's such an ass and I didn't want him to see me...'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna pauses, in shock as you look back down at him, licking your lower lip. 'I'm interrupting...' you come closer though, watching, breath catching in your throat. 'Want me to beat him the fuck up? ruin him?' Sukuna murmurs, voice husky, when you keep walking towards him, and he slowly strokes, from the base to the tip of his veiny length, acting so casual. 'No, you don't have to do all that, you're already so good to me' he laughs then, shaking his head. 'You are, maybe I should... be good to you?'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna can't form a thought when you're stroking his cock, leaning so close, lips just a breath from his, taking two of his fingers and sucking his precum off them, cheeks hollowing. Sukuna loses his control then, using those two fingers to slip so deep you cry out, earning his groan, uncaring if anyone heard. He's curling them up in your walls as you stroke, his eyes laser focused on your pretty face when he grips your hair by the nape of your neck. 'wanna suck me, huh brat?' he tries to keep it together, but when you nod eagerly, on your knees, he can't take how good your throat feels.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna has his cock fucking up into your throat, his salty precum against your tongue, and he wonders if it's some dream it has to be, you're too fucking beautiful to just be doing this, you shouldn't even be working, he thinks. He'd like you just naked around his house, to fuck you on every surface, fill you up with so many kids you'd never leave. Sukuna is groaning while you suck him greedily, looking up at him with dilated, beautiful eyes, making him simultaneously want to fuck you and want to make love to you, stupid insane shit that irritates him.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna stutters when you suck harder, and he's cumming deep in your throat, not meaning to. No he wants to fuck your pussy, not this, but you make him cum so fast it's stupid, swallowing him with a pretty smile, as you lean up on shaky legs. He presses a kiss to your lips, desperate and messy, tasting all of his cum all over your mouth. You're gasping, until the door opens, and you pull apart, seeing an amused Toji. You are losing your mind later as you clean up to go home, wondering what's gotten ahold of you, when Sukuna is waiting right outside.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna loves it when you look down so shy and pretty, you're biting your lower lip to death, he releases it from the grip of your teeth. 'you free tonight, brat?' you blink in confusion. 'you want...' 'want you at my place, spread wide f'me, yeah?' you gasp at the thought, shaking your head then. 'I'm not, I have to get home to my kid... but tomorrow night?' he nods, ushering you to your shitty car, picturing you in something so much better soon, leaning over with a smirk as he seatbelts you in.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna now that he's had a taste, he can't stop thinking of you, when you're at work the next day you're quickly in his office again, this time he's got you grinding on his lap, slick arousal pooling in your little outfit. 'I'll fuckin pay you triple, take the day off' "Mr. Sukuna...' 'Take. The. Day. Off.' Sukuna finally gets you home, having you bent over his couch before you can blink, ripping your pretty costume to shreds, pumping you so full of his cock you're trembling, shaking, head falling back as he fills you so good, slamming your cervix.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna has never felt anything like you, like your cunt pulsing around his cock, like his balls slapping your twitchy little clit, as you're sobbing it hurts so good, tears streaming down your pretty face while he rails his cock so deep. Sukuna busts deep in you as he wraps a big hand around your throat, fucking into you over and over, feeling you milk his cock for all he's got. 'Gonna fill you the fuck up, huh brat? gonna drip on the goddamn stage'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna has your pussy on his mouth when he's busted in you, starting to lap all the gooey white cum from your pretty pussy. 'Sukuna! ah!' you've never felt like this, so fucked out as his tongue scoops all your cum out, he's leaning over you, spitting it right into your mouth, chuckling. 'pathetic, just how I fuckin need you'

Stripclub Owner Sukuna is pathetic for you, he doesn't let you leave, he pays you for another day, fucking you in every position, at some point he's holding you upside down, you're bobbing on his cock as he's gripping your ass, moaning against your hole, you're falling apart, so weak and sore. when you finally have to go home, because you have your kid, Sukuna can't stop thinking about you, about how he wants you to have his babies, to be under him every goddamn night, so excited when you come into work, only to see you devastated.

Stripclub Owner Sukuna demands to know what's wrong, only to see your shady ass ex, who wants to saunter up to him like he's shit, you shake your head, but soon Sukuna is beating the fuck out of him. 'you have no clue who he is, Mr. Sukuna...' you tell him then, earning Sukuna's chuckle, his big grin. 'You don't know who I am, baby'

Buy me a glass of wine🍷 - Gen Masterlist - ©All works by Madamechrissy you may not reproduce

[keypostos]

caleb is 10 when he realizes that he's a physical touch fiend. the rush he gets when his hand lingers on top of your skin after playing with you is like no other. when he presses into your side while you're reading, his thoughts always circle around one topic: you, you, you. when you would run into his room after a nightmare, caleb was ready to swoop you in his arms and hold you until you fell asleep. every response towards you was involuntary.

caleb is 15 when he realizes that teasing 13-year-old you becomes irresistible. when he holds up your book, pencil, or some other item in the air, he watches as you jump up and down to try and grab it back. he's grown a lot in three years; if he had to estimate, he's a whole head taller than you now—20cm at least.

when you throw yourself onto him in an attempt to get your stuff back, he falters. you're laying against him on the couch, shuffling and moving up and down over his body, and caleb's breath hitches. you're so close and right there.

he's going insane. you can't even stand up for five seconds before caleb pulls you down against him once more, saying something about retaliation or revenge while tickling you to death.

caleb is 20 when he's about to leave for the DAA. there's an air of silence around the house. you've trapped yourself in your room more often, stressing over your senior finals. at least, that's what you've been telling him.

"i'm sorry caleb, i really need to study for this test."

"oh! i totally forgot about that project i had due tonight. shit, i'm sorry caleb. we'll have another movie night soon, okay?"

he doesn't know if you're actually this busy or if you're actually ignoring him. all he does know is that he misses you. he wonders about how he could miss someone who was in the room across from him. you were so close, but so far.

when you found out he was leaving—though you had a grin on your face while congratulating him—caleb knew you were devastated. he wondered if you were secretly mad at him for leaving.

two weeks before his departure, he practically forces you to be around him. he laid down next to you like before. he stroked your hair while you napped on the couch. he teased you and picked you up so you could hit him and grab him like you used to. he always chose to put his arm around you during a movie. he dragged you by the hand all around the neighborhood. he needed to all of that again, a thousand times more.

but at 24, it seems like there may have been a wedge between the two of you. calls are more and more infrequent.

"sorry, space signal sucks," he'd type.

"sorry, i was busy with training!" you'd reply, 2 days later.

he thinks that he would do anything to go back to before. he hasn't felt you in months. he sees you only twice a year.

it's hard. it was excruciating during the first few weeks. not only was he dealing with bootcamp, but he always found himself looking to his side, thinking you'd be there with him. at night, you were there, right next to him in bed.

he imagined that you would whisper words of reassurance in his ear. you'd hold onto him like you used to, when you had nightmares, and wrap your legs between his. there were days where we stroked his necklace, wishing that it was your hand instead. what he would give to have you next to him.

all he wants is to be able to feel you again. he chastises his 10-year-old self for taking you for granted back then. he wants to feel the apples of your cheeks when he caresses your face. once,—when he was 13 (you, 11)—he did that, and he thought you had a fever the way you warmed up. if he could, caleb would build a time machine to go back to that.

caleb is 25 when he is out of your life.

he thinks about you every day. it reminds him of when he was in bootcamp five years ago. it takes him back to when he was fifteen; you were on top of him, and his brain was fried to a crisp. caleb wonders if he's always been this way, because he can recall that at ten, you were still the only thing consuming his mind.

even during his arm repairs, you're there throughout all the pain.

when you discover his metal arm, all of caleb's instincts point to the door. he's spent so long trying to hide it from you: it's the constant long-sleeves (even though they made him incredibly uncomfortable), or making sure to only touch you with his left-hand (even though he wanted to pull you in with both hands).

but he stays. because it's you.

you freeze momentarily, listening to his writhes and moans of pain. caleb only notices you're there when he feels your hands brush his shoulder. he jolts back in surprise, and he sees you looming over him.

he stammers something, not even sure of what he said because you're here. you see him. you see it.

caleb's wanted this for so long. he wanted to see you again, in a state where you were both vulnerable, like old times. however, that moment probably wouldn't have come if he doesn't confess about this, so he relays the details.

you listen attentively, eyes wide with shock as caleb goes on. your hands wrap around his metal one, and he feels nothing. it's agonizing. he sees you examine him so gently. your fingers trace over bolts and plates of metal, lightly stroking up and down his arm. and caleb feels nothing.

how often has he dreamed of this? for you to be touching him again, so intimately and softly? he's stayed up countless nights wishing for you to be here, just so he can put his arms around you in a crushing embrace, only to be incapable of feeling you on one side of his body.

you pull away from his arm, asking if the fleet was accountable. when he doesn't say anything, he feels your weight lift off the bed and go towards the door.

whatever happens next is involuntary. he uses his flesh arm to pull you back, caging you between his forearm and his chest. there's no thought to it, no rationalization. it's just you and him. and he's been deprived of this for so long.

he breathes into the crevice of your neck, and he has half a mind to place his entire face there. he wants to breathe you in after being away from you for so long. no conversations, no contact, no touching. the last time he was this close to you was years ago. he needs this, caleb thinks.

the feel of you against his bare chest is something he cannot seem to describe. it's like he's his teenage (or even kid) self again, where he seems to short-circuit whenever he comes in contact with you. you're still small compared to him, but you fit perfectly like you did a decade ago.

he lets you go after he feels you trembling. you don't hesitate to place your hands on his waist and tackle him onto the bed. you catch him off-guard as you pin him beneath you, looking straight into his eyes.

"hold me," you plead, "with your right hand."

caleb lets out a shaky breath. there are voltages of electricity flowing through him—literally and figuratively. his skin sparks alive when he feels you. will it be the same with the metal arm?

slowly, caleb raises his mechanical arm. he wraps it around you, and feels the movement of your back shift downwards. you released a breath you didn't know you were holding. caleb held his.

you wait patiently before caleb starts running his metal hand up and down your back. you watch him exhale as he continues. you press your forehead on his, and you breathe in tandem with him.

caleb is 25 when he discovers that he loves physical touch.

wow like i didn't expect this to get so long... but like here we are???

i think we need to start embracing touch-starved caleb in all of our fics. this man hasn't seen the love of his life in YEARS (infrequently, anyway) so i think once she touches him (like INTIMATELY) for the first time in years he goes a little cray.

also sorry the ending was rushed i wanted to get this over with bc i intented this to be like 500 words but obviously it got way longer than that. what can i say... this freak has dug into my brain.

[jimingyue]

Cat Tumblr Dashboard Simulator

🖋️ meowful-musings Follow

🕊️ birdwatching Follow

what's wrong with dry food??? my humans feed me it all the time and i think it's fine

💀 elusivehider-deactivated948204

op wheres the natural feeding option

🌲 outdoorsy Follow

you guys are getting fed?

#im a barn cat so maybe im missing something here #meowtthew don't look

7,192 notes

☀️ pawsitive-affurmations Follow

ITS OKAY TO BE A MOGGIE

ITS OKAY TO BE A MOGGIE

YOU ARE NOT LESS VALID IF YOU ARE NOT A SPECIFIC PEDIGREE!!!!!

☀️ pawsitive-affurmations Follow

extra special shout out to cats who have "common" coat colors. grey tabbies and black cats i am rubbing against your head affectionately <3

🪤 m0usetrap01 Follow

as a grey tabby i really needed to hear this :"3

#i feel like i never see positivity posts for moggies even tho we're the most common type of cat....

154,688 notes

🎵 rage-against-the-meowchine Follow

i cant believe there are cats ACTUALLY advocating for kittens to be separated from their mothers before 12 weeks??? kittens still need to learn how to interact with other cats before being placed into their furever home omg you guys know you're advocating for undersocialized and aggressive cats right

❤️ loving-paws284 Follow

um op some of us??? matured early??????? i was separated from my mother at 7 weeks and i turned out fine... interesting how you assume that kittens being separated from their mothers at a younger age will lead to the degeneracy of the next generation...hmm i wonder where i've heard that before...

🐈 fluffy-the-cat Follow

OP got bit too hard during a play-fight as a kitten and it shows XD

🐟 tunafeesh Follow

also op have you ever considered that just because somecat is kind of scared and unable to deal with strange cats or humans, it doesn't mean they don't deserve to be adopted?? you sound like a vet psyop honestly

🎵 rage-against-the-meowchine Follow

oh meow god saying that kittens should be fully weaned before leaving their mother is NOT veterinarian rhetoric and i never said that they deserve to be euthanized!!! my mother literally died when i was 3 weeks old and it seriously messed up my development so stop putting words in my mouth, thanks

anyway friendly reminder that underweaned kittens are prone to illness and often struggle with basic cat behaviors like litterbox usage, and in some nyavinces it's even considered kitten abuse

#discourse #cant believe "kitten abuse is bad" is controversial now

32,456 notes

🍃 naturalliving Follow

BORN TO DIE

WORLD IS A FUCK

猫神 Kill Em All 1989

I am trash cat

410,757,864,530 DEAD BIRDS

#outdoorliving #outdoorcats please interact #outdoorcat friendly

48,971 notes

🎣 salmonpurina Follow

can't believe cats are uncritically reblogging that born to die world is a fuck post. i know it's funny but op is literally an outdoor cat truther

#like cmon now you just have to go to their blog #lulu speaks

34 notes

💀 tabbystripes-deactivated098712

gentle reminder that pushing cups off the table is not cute and can cause a lot of distress in your human!!!! gentle reminder that our teeth and claws can easily hurt them more than they can hurt us!!!!

🐰 evil-tabbystripes Follow

evil reminder that the cup should always be pushed off the table. evil reminder that you should always bite and claw at your human no matter what. you can do whatever you want forever

💀 tabbystripes-deactivated098712

make your own pawst

💀 laser-point-deactivated8574721

umm i know a tomcat who did that and his human ended up putting him down so...

👬🏻 nyasunaruenjoyer Follow

Nyaverage shelter cat behavior

#not nyaruto #re-nyab #pickles shut up

545,460 notes

🌈 nyaoi-warrior Follow

saw two male cats sleeping together on the porch today. homeow behavior imo

💡 discourse-meows Follow

hey um what the fuck??? it's really not okay of you to go assuming other cat's sexualities, especially cats you don't even know???? as a queer cat i'm VERYY uncomfortable. real-ass cats didn't consent to your nyaoi fetish, thanks

🌈 nyaoi-warrior Follow

1. i was making. a joak

2. i'm literally gay???

#literally what's your pawblem

7 notes

🎩 amazingcatshow12 Follow

reblog if you've ever caught the laser pointer

🎩 amazingcatshow12 Follow

i know you fuckers are lying

🍭 gaykittens Follow

this tom hasn't caught the laser pointer

🎩 amazingcatshow12 Follow

shut the heull up

988,653 notes

🐾 b-e-a-n-t-o-e-s Follow

grey toebeans >>>>>>>>> pink toebeans and don't let the haters make you believe otherwise

🐁 ladymouser Follow

op shut the fuck up ALL toebeans are beautiful!!! just bc you're miserable and insecure doesn't mean you can bring others down based on things they can't control

🐾 b-e-a-n-t-o-e-s Follow

oh so the cat-human separationist wants to preach to us

[seat-safety-switch]

It's hard to deal with certain truths in life. For example – and I'm sure there's other ones, but I can't think of any right now – there is not enough time to drive every piece of construction equipment ever made. Even if you started as a baby, which the well-meaning nannies of society don't allow to operate heavy machinery, you'd still be finding obscure kinds of specialty cranes even as the doctor pulls your life-support plug in front of your horrified children, who are all named after unpopular varietals of telehandlers.

As adults, we feel the need to make compromises. Maybe we only try the most famous, name-brand kinds of construction equipment. Stick to Bobcats, even. A whole world of attachments means you'll never yearn for cranes again! This kind of specialization is important to making sure that society can actually function, sure, but once in awhile we all drive past a combine harvester on the highway and go "that could have been me." It still can.

What I've found is that the stress of collecting makes the experience worse. You can spend your time seeking out a whole punch-card of construction-vehicle experiences, and stress yourself out. Or: you can simply allow yourself to hot-wire whatever equipment you find at a given abandoned construction site in the middle of the night. Let the universe decide what fun you're going to have. Steamroller? You bet. That weird truck thing that paints lines on the highway? Don't look too closely at the first couple miles on Number Seventeen, but I figured out the controls eventually. Looks pretty good, if I do say so myself.

Spontaneous discovery also means you're opening yourself up to new experiences that you never would have expected. For instance, I didn't know that the local dog-racing track had a little tractor for flattening out the dirt. If I had sneered at it, I would have missed the fact that it was one of those cool old 70s Cub Cadets that I always love to drive. Geared pretty well to escape the cops, too, although they got me when I came back to the track later that night to try the parking lot sweeper. Taught me my lesson again: don't try to force it to happen. Being predictable is how they catch you every time.

[sugarlywhispers]

b.katsuki x reader (fem) | quirkless!reader, prohero!dynamight

a.n; I'M IN LOVE WITH THIS IDEA OKAY? I HAVE HAD IT IN MY DRAFTS FOR LIKE A YEAR ALREADY AND I NEED YA'LL TO RANT WITH ME ABOUT THISSSS<3 it's mostly enemies to lovers💕

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG

"For the love of–... I'M COMING!"

It's Sunday morning. You have been expecting this day to wake up maybe mid-morning, with the gentle warm breeze coming from your open window; have an exquisite brunch that you have been planning and craving since Friday; maybe watch an episode or two of your favorite show before preparing a full spa day, with a long and refreshing bath included. That's how you have planned your Sunday to go.

But no… Apparently, someone's intention was to ruin the whole day for you while their knocks on your door were persistent and annoying at 6 freaking a.m.

You don't think about what you're wearing before stumbling towards the door, with the loud BANGS still sounding. You think of your poor neighbors next door and their newborn baby.

"This little shit," you protest, completely annoyed with this person knocking on your door like someone has died. "Someone better be dead or else…" You open the door in one strong pull and huff utterly annoyed when you encounter the person behind.

Vermillion eyes collide with yours, the intense hate and annoyance so palpable in the air it almost cuts you both.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

He tchs, rolling his eyes at you. The bile travels up through your esophagus, and you want to spit at him.

"Save the greetings, if you know what a decent greeting means… Well, considering how well you just did it, I doubt you fuckin’ know…"

The muscle at your temple twitches so hard, you believe he is actually able to see it. That would explain his upcoming smirk.

"The fuck do you want?" You repeat, not even caring or taking the time to follow this banter with him. You would normally do it, come back at him with a snarky response that would probably hurt his ego and he would answer back making you even angrier, and yada yada, nothing new to this ‘hate x hate’ relationship you had with this man in front of you. But today is not a day you planned on dealing with Bakugou-annoying ass-Katsuki.

He looks down at his hands, his fingers fidgeting a bit with the buttons on his all-black suit jacket you just now noticed he is wearing. Interesting; he never uses formal suits like this one if it isn't for a Hero Gala, and that was only once a year. Or that one time you remember he had to apologize to citizens through a TV interview with Deku because of a villain attack in Hokkaido they couldn't quite contain on time and caused a lot of material damage. You shake your head coming back to the present. Pro Hero Dynamight, a.k.a. Bakugou-annoying ass-Katsuki is standing right at your door, looking a bit nervous while playing with the buttons of his jacket, furrowing his eyebrows like he is angry even at the air he breathes.

You could have expected anything from this unpredictable man who infuriated you almost twenty-four hours a day, the seven days of the whole week. However, you were not expecting at all the words that come from his mouth after he looks up again and his eyes lock with yours.

"Fucking marry me."

Your eyes open wide. And the only thing you think of doing is punching him. And you do.

Your hands close in tight fists, and before saying anything, you punch his shoulder as strongly as you can with one. You know for sure your small and useless fist won't do any damage to this hulk of a man, but the meaning behind it it's what matters.

He simply looks at you in disbelief. "Ouch?" He smirks. He fucking smirks at you, and this time you punch his stomach, which does make him grunt and hover a bit in pain.

You attempt to close the door right at his face, but he suddenly pushes it with his hand and makes you waver a bit back, holding yourself on the door handle. He stands straight again, retrieving his hand from the door when he realizes he used more force than intended to prevent you from closing the door.

"I- umm- Shit, sorry, I didn't-..." 

You raise a hand to stop him from talking.

"Just fucking tell me what you want, so I can go back to bed and not see your ugly face for the rest of my day."

You watch in satisfaction how his face contours into full rage. And this time you smirk. 

"I fucking hate you…" He spits, and you bat your lashes at him while smiling.

"Ah, the feeling is mutual, baby."

Bakugou takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and holding himself on the door frame with strength. You're sure his hand shape will print on it, and you get more annoyed –if that's possible, but you have already learned that when Bakugou was involved, the anger was immeasurable– thinking that you will have to hire someone to fix that.

"I fucking hate you," he repeats through his teeth with his eyes still closed, but then he opens them, and his entire face changes into something you never expected to see. He looks at you, begging, "But I need you to marry me."

You look… perplexed. Again, never in your life have you ever come across the thought that those words would ever come from the man in front of you, much less towards you.

You open your mouth to say something, but the neighbor from the apartment in front of yours opens his door, standing there with his arms crossed and looking menacingly.

"Everything okay, Y/N?" His deep baritone voice asks. Bakugou turns his head and when he sees him, stands straight, head held high and you can imagine the type of defying expression on his face.

You roll your eyes. Men.

"Yes, Arisu, everything is fine. He's… a… friend," the word stung your tongue because you couldn't consider Bakugou that, even though you shared the same group of friends. But it wouldn't have been good having these two fight over something you still didn't understand what was happening; the thought of who of these two hulk men would win still was entertaining to think about. Your money was on Arisu, of course.

"Alrigh’," Arisu says, looking at Bakugou up and down before retrieving himself back into his apartment.

"The fuck this fucking extra-..." You stop Bakugou from turning and going towards Arisu by holding his arm and pulling him towards you.

"Stop it. Come inside," you demand, pulling him as he watches your hand around his bicep, "before any of my neighbors file a complaint against me thanks to your fucking loud mouth."

Bakugou grunts at your words as he lets you pull him inside. When you close the door and turn to him, you realize how big he looks in your small apartment, where there is barely space between the living room and the kitchen and two doors, one leads to your bedroom and the other to the bathroom. You want to laugh at how uncomfortable he looks.

You take a deep breath, scratching your forehead to regain a bit of patience –which was non-existent whenever Bakugou was around.

"Okay, now, explain to me what the hell is wrong with you."

"Nothing is wrong with me. More like what's wrong with you and this small thing you call apartment… When did you-..."

"Bakugou! I didn't invite you in for you to start insulting my living space!" You say more exasperated by every second he is in there. "Tell me what the hell happened to you! Why did you come here, almost tearing down the door of my place at 6 in the fucking morning, annoying even my neighbors, and then you fucking propose out of nowhere!"

His lips are held in a tight line as he watches you almost yell at him, hands opening and closing anxiously. There is silence for a couple of minutes before he says, "My father died."

You gasp, taking a step back. Wow. That's something you were not expecting at all. You get now why the black suit. And now that you look at him better, his eyes look glassy and reddish –probably thanks to how much he's holding himself back from showing any other emotion that isn't anger. And that's… sad.

Your arms immediately hug yourself, one hand settling over your chest. "I- I'm sorry…"

"Don't be," he turns a bit to the left, facing the kitchen to avoid looking at you. "Fucker was a right pain in the ass."

You choke on the laugh that almost escapes you at his words, and after you clear your throat you murmur, "Sorry." He looks at you a bit amused, the right corner of his mouth lifted a bit at your reaction.

You sigh again after a few seconds of silence, "Bakugou, what does that have to do with you asking me to-...”

"My great-grandparents are-were the funders and CEOs of TCA Technologies Corp.," your eyes open wide at the name of the prestigious company that had been ground-breaking in the creation and use of robots, before being the number one seller of technology materials to support heroes. They were high class in society, civilians and heroes. "Yeah, that's the face every extra makes," he smirks when you stick your tongue out at him.

He then looks at you up and down and immediately looks away, clearing his throat in a clear gesture of shyness. You frown confused.

"Fucking go put some clothes on."

That's when you remember you had no pants, no bra, and an old shirt that barely covered your panties. Fuck. You almost run towards your room to get changed. All of this had to be a dream… or a nightmare.

Your Sunday was entirely ruined. You know that for sure.

After you change to decent, more covered clothing, leggings and a big shirt that almost reached your knees –it is Sunday, dammit, and the hell you are gonna dress up for Bakugou Katsuki– you walk again towards the living room where you left said asshole waiting for you there. He is now sitting on your couch, his suit jacket lying over the back of it. His elbows are resting over his knees, his hands holding his head. You have never encountered a tired Bakugou, yet here he is. Looking beaten and down.

He looks up at you when he hears you approach him; his eyes are more reddish than before, kind of like when you want to cry but don't let yourself do it. That made you feel bad for thinking about him as an asshole.

"What took you so long, short-legs? Whatever you wear, you'll still stink and look ugly on it."

Nope. He is and will always be a stupid asshole.

You roll your eyes grunting as you let yourself fall on the couch, as far away from him as you can on that three-people couch, crossing your legs under you.

"Spit it out, asshole. What's all this about?"

He sighs, "My father inherited it all after my grandfather died. His whole life had been that stupid company, his and my mother's. I don't give a fuck about it, but the old hack insists that I- ow!"

You pinch him on the shoulder this time, knowing very well that if you had punched him he wouldn't have felt anything. But pinching… he did feel that.

"What the fuck was that for?!"

"Don't call your mom like that, idiot!"

"Fucking piss off, you know shit! The old hack is an old hack, she deserves the title."

You shake your head in disagreement but decide to leave that topic there considering how affected he looks by it.

"The old hack said," he simply repeats that to spite you, and you really want to punch him, "that I need to step up and be fucking CEO of that bullshit, or…"

He looks at you, and you gulp, kind of understanding where this is going.

"Or get married." You finish the sentence, crossing your arms over your chest, "But why? Those two options are completely different from one another."

"The sky will fucking fall the day I understand any-fucking-thing that comes out of her mouth. She's nuts!" He protests, arms exaggerating his words as he opens them wide, evidently showing how much stress he has, before laying back on the couch, head resting over the back of it where his jacket is. He sighs long and deeply before talking again, "My great-grandmother had a strong Quirk, but she decided to stay at home instead of being a Hero. Those were other times, ya'know?"

"I know History of Heroes, Bakugou. I'm not stupid."

He looks at you again, this time genuinely surprised, "I, umm, thought you-..."

"Have you ever thought that despite not having a Quirk, I know about heroes?"

He tchs, "No wonder why you and shitty Deku are such shitty nerds."

You roll your eyes for the eleventh time that morning, "Get to the point, shitty asshole."

Bakugou scoffs, clearly holding back a retort to answer back, then he continues, "I'm the first in generations with a strong, hero-level Quirk. Most of my family had decided to live as civilians, building this stupid company from generation to generation."

"Oh, and you are the first actual Hero in the family. You are the first one to choose differently…"

He nods in response, "It almost gave my grandfather a heart attack. Ever since my Quirk woke up, I knew what I wanted," he looks back at you, and for the first time, you admit to yourself that you're curious of knowing what he wants, what goes through his head, so you nod allowing him to continue, "I want to be a Number One Hero. I want to kick villains' asses as much and as hard as I can for as long as my stupid aging bones allow me to."

The intensity in his eyes and conviction in every word he spoke made you feel his passion. And that was… new.

"But to be that, I can't afford to waste time in falling in love and all that bullshit…"

"Then say no to your mom and the company," you offer as a solution. He snorts letting his head fall back against the couch.

"You know shit…" He shakes his head, "There's a requirement in every hero company, it says that a familiar, or a spouse if the hero is married, has to validate your mental sanity alongside a doctor to keep working as a Hero."

"I… didn't know that."

"Of course not, short-legs. You're not a hero, why would you know?"

"So, if I… If we get married-..." he nods in confirmation even before you say the words. But he says them.

"The old hag won't have to validate my status as Hero anymore, and she won't have anything to hold me back from sending her and the company to hell."

You looked serious at him, "Bakugou, you and I don't like each other. You hate me and I hate you. And you want to put your Hero status in my hands by marrying me?" You say in disbelief, almost anxious about the whole meaning of this. You stand up and walk from one side to the other as you keep talking, "Why? Because your inner kid is in rebellious tantrum mode and does not want to take the responsibility to-..."

"Shut the fuck up! You. Know. Shit!" He also stood up, shortening the distance between you two in the small living room.

"Then tell me! Explain it to me! Cause to me you only sound like a spoiled brat who doesn't want his veggies for lunch."

He looks you right in the eye, hands almost trembling in fists beside his body, and then he drops the bomb.

"My mother killed my grandfather."

You recoil a step back, "What?"

He sighs, hands and fingers running through his hair, clearly uncomfortable, "I-... There is no proof, no solid proof about it. I just- I know it was her." Again, the conviction in his eyes made you believe him. "My mother wanted the money, the luxury life being with my dad could bring her. But my dad had a brother, an older brother."

"Had?"

Bakugou simply shakes his head, "The idiot got himself in between a shooting from two villain groups. He was shot only once, and it killed him. A fucking looser…" 

You try, you really tried not to smile but failed miserably. "You are the idiot," you say fighting back the chuckle.

He smiles back, "No, I got shot several times, I even got thrown at and through walls, and I'm very much fucking alive. I'm no weak ass looser as him."

You can't stop laughing, Bakugou definitely is an idiot.

He waits until you're done laughing before continuing, "Even then, my grandfather didn't think my dad was capable of handling the company and all it meant, so he was thinking about giving it to one of his nephews. That's when, I fuckin’ know, my mother took matters into her own hands. I'm an only child. If I say no…"

"The company has to go to another familiar..." Everything washes clear now in your head, “And your mom won't allow that to happen. So she’ll lie and say you aren’t sane enough to keep working as a hero,” Bakugou keeps nodding, confirming everything you’re saying.

“That way, I’m obligated to work at the company.”

Your hand travels from your forehead and brushes your hair back. “She wouldn’t that… She’s your mom, Bakugou...”

“Haven’t you heard a fucking thing I said? She fucking killed my grandfather so the company was legally inherited by my father! Therefore, she could hold all the rights, all the stupid money! My father was a fucking dimwit who believed every-fucking-thing my mother said. She controlled him as she pleased.”

You gasp as another realization hits you, “That’s why you are an asshole to her…”

“She can fool anyone, but not me.” He declares, standing tall and proud. “I have never played her game, and I fuckin’ never will.”

You hug yourself once more, taking some minutes to assimilate all the confessions he just dropped on you. Everything feels like a script of a freaking movie or something. And there are too many questions you want to ask. But there’s only one thing you mostly don’t understand and you need the answer to.

So you look back at him, head tilting up a bit due to the height difference between you, and ask, “Why me?”

Bakugou does not hesitate in his answer. 

“You’re strong, despite not having a Quirk. And smart. You don’t let anyone dictate what you can or cannot do,” he takes a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours, “You have never backed down from a discussion, with me or anyone else. You don’t let anybody step on you, holding tight to your convictions and beliefs.”

You visibly gulp, feeling a little warmth in your cheeks that makes you want to look elsewhere, but you don't. You hold the connection between your eyes like dear life. And he smiles, the left corner of his mouth raising a bit.

“You have a fuckin’ strong character, you won't even shy down from me,” you suddenly feel the back of his index finger caress the right side of your jaw, where lays an old scar he perfectly recognized.

It was the scar he accidentally left when you were younger, stupider. He had picked a fight with another newbie hero –another asshole in your opinion– who kept talking shit about his other newbie hero friends. Bakugou had snapped when the guy mocked the word “whore” towards you. You have tried to separate them, earning yourself a punch on the right side of your face by this same man that has touched the reminder of that old memory.

“But above all that…” It’s his turn to gulp, eyes going up and down through your face. Is he… Is he looking at your lips? “You are kind. You care about everyone. You always try to solve everything for everyone –that’s fuckin’ annoying actually.”

You open your mouth to swear at him, stupid asshole; but he doesn’t give you time to say anything. “What I’m trying to fuckin’ say is–” he takes a deep breath, “You are… good. A good person. And you… You understand m- us.”

Was he going to say ‘me’? By ‘us’, you know he means heroes.

Your parents had been heroes before they died. Unfortunately, you were born Quirkless, so the dream of following your parents' path was decided the same day you were welcomed into this world. You have already made peace with this idea, it didn’t hurt like it used to when you were young. Despite not having a Quirk, you specialized in Quirk and training analysis, which granted you a job that most Hero Agencies wanted you for. Hence also how now your group of friends involved all heroes.

However, one thing is working with them, working with Bakugou Katsuki, a.k.a. Pro Hero Dynamight, who was the biggest pain in your ass you have ever had since the day you met him. Another completely different is actually marrying the pain in your ass.

You sigh, “I don’t–...”

“What? You want me to fuckin’ beg? ‘Cause I fuckin’ will…” Bakugou takes a step back and literally kneels before you. You protest, grabbing his forearm and pulling him back up, but he doesn’t let you move him even a millimeter. “What do you want? Whatever you want is yours. We can even sign a dam contract if you so want, I don’t fuckin’ care what it is. Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

“This is not a fucking joke, Bakugou. You are asking me to marry you. What if I have a boyfriend? You didn’t even fucking ask!”

His eyes open wide, surprised. “Do you?”

You roll your eyes, releasing an exasperated sigh. “No! I don’t!”

“Then, what are you bitching about?”

You groan. “I’m bitching about the fact that I don’t know why would you put a whole big deal on me when we hate each other!”

“I trust you.”

It’s a short answer, his expression is even so neutral and sure that leaves you perplexed. Surprised at how easily he said those words.

“We don’t like each other…”

“I don’t need to like you to trust you, idiot.” It feels like he’s mocking you, but one look into his eyes and what he is saying actually feels right. He is completely sure of what he is saying. “I would even fuckin’ trust you with my life.”

He already does. Every day, at work.

Still, you can’t pass the opportunity to piss him off. “Wow. That’s deep, buddy.”

“Fuck you.”

Mission accomplished.

You laugh gently, looking at him still kneeling on the floor of your living room. The sight in itself is a miracle. A sight you won't get to see ever again from this man. But it’s not the image of his kneeling position that makes you take the decision.

It’s his eyes.

They are screaming, desperately begging for you to help him. And, damn it, he is right; you always are at the disposal of everyone when they need your help. Fuck! It is actually very annoying –but you will never admit that out loud, especially not to him.

You close your eyes, head tilting back, and take a long, deep breath.

You are so going to regret this.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

Bakugou Katsuki immediately stands up and practically throws himself at you, his whole hulk of a body surrounding you in what you have never thought would ever happen between you two: a hug.

Are you though?

[sknyuz]

heavy lifting | k.m.g.

synopsis: you're struggling to get out of a bad academic slump, feeling overwhelmed by the constant pressure of grades and the inability to focus. after a few failed attempts to get motivated, you decide to do something different—start going to the gym. at first, it’s just about getting out of the house, but that all changes when mingyu, the gym’s resident greek god, notices you. no amount of reps or cardio can compare to how fast your heart races every time you cross paths, and it becomes impossible to ignore a six-foot tall kim mingyu.

pairing: mingyu x reader (ft. dino and riize wonbin + roommate!jeonghan)

genre: college au, romance, smut (18+ markers for start and end if you wanna skip), fluff, slice-of-life, slow-burn, gym buddy!mingyu

warnings: slightly awkward moments, gym-related humor, slow-burn, soft smut, heavy flirting, unprotected sex (do not do this lol), aftercare <333, making out with random ppl at a party, alcohol consumption, y/n is an absolute LOSERRRRR, profanity of course, mentions of body image (positive)

wc: ~8.5k

a/n: oh my godddd it’s finally here !! my first full fic <333 tysm for 500+ notes on the preview alone like ??? taglist is massive as well so that will be placed under the cut ^^~ shoutout to @meltinghershey, @mochisdayone, and @tigerhoshii for beta reading and dealing with my chaos lmaooo. hope u enjoy <33

masterlist

˚₊‧꒰ა taglist under the cut ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

@tigerhoshii @meltinghershey @amingo046 @drewstarkeygf @producedbyjeon @seokminfilm @mmessier31 @janeluvwonuuuu @boxsmil3 @inthetangerine @ateez-atiny380 @bunnymjr @producedbyjeon @bookandarrow @bemysolaces @ahloveisu @ninigyuuu @mochisdayone @cara-tiny @parkersroses @jeonghnie @dmstoyangyang @luxynjun @miraclekay97 @anniewings @acherry04 @adribobadri @kidultdays @kari-nne @shayminssi @tangerin3gurl @gyucheols-girl @whoisbaek15 @intrnetbbysworld @tymbarki @alien0n3arth

you’ve always been the kind of person who keeps yourself busy. your friends say you get “flustered” a lot, but you know it’s less about nerves and more about not seeing the point in stretching out conversations when you could be doing something useful. you’re good with people — you can hold small talk, swap stories, even keep up in a group chat when you need to — but it never feels as rewarding as finishing a project or getting ahead on an assignment. practical, that’s what you are. efficient with your time. so when the stress of midterms and the constant pressure to stay ahead starts to pile up, you fall into a familiar cycle of overworking without actually getting anywhere.

jeonghan, your roommate, always tells you to “take a break” when he finds you buried under a pile of textbooks, but you ignore him. while your dorm neighbor, seungkwan, who’s become your unofficial therapist, insists that maybe a change of scenery might help, but you brush it off. you don’t know what’s worse—failing or the thought of being the one who’s not keeping up with the others.

that’s when you decide to take a leap. you’re not sure if it’s just the idea of doing something different, or the fact that every other option has failed, but you sign up for the gym. you’re not sure what you’re expecting—just that you need to shake things up.

the first day is terrible. you’re awkwardly trying to figure out how machines work, watching everyone around you who seems like they know what they’re doing, while you’re stuck on a treadmill wondering if you’re supposed to be running or walking faster.

that’s when he notices you.

kim mingyu.

he’s not hard to spot—tall, broad-shouldered, a greek god in a compression shirt, with muscles you can’t even begin to fathom. you try not to stare, but your eyes can’t help it. he’s on the other side of the room, lifting weights with ease, his form flawless. you can’t even imagine having a fraction of that confidence. you turn back to your treadmill, your face flushed as you try to focus on not tripping over yourself.

but then, out of nowhere, he’s right there in front of you.

“hey, are you new here?” his voice is so casual, but your heart skips a beat at the sound of it. “first time at the gym?”

you freeze, where the fuck did he come from?

pretty hard not to spot a giant like kim mingyu walking towards you, y/n.

without thinking, you mumble, “oh shit—” and immediately stumble forward. you try to catch yourself but end up tripping over your own feet, your hands flailing to find balance.

“whoa!” mingyu’s quick reflexes kick in, and before you know it, he’s right there, steadying you with one hand on your shoulder. “you okay?” he asks, voice tinged with concern, but there’s a hint of amusement in his smile.

you gulp, heart racing. “i—yeah. i just—uh, didn’t see you coming.” you let out a pathetic laugh, heat flooding your cheeks.

mingyu chuckles, his laugh deep and warm. “i kind of figured. you look like you’re on the verge of a wipeout.”

you can’t help but give a lopsided smile, despite your embarrassment. “thanks… i guess,” you mutter, still trying to regain your composure.

“don’t worry about it,” he says with a friendly smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “you’re still alive, so that’s a win in my book.”

and just like that, mingyu’s gone, back to his workout as if he hadn’t just saved you from making a fool of yourself in front of everyone.

for the next few days, mingyu’s presence haunts the gym. you see him everywhere—lifting weights, chatting with people, giving advice, being… well, perfect. and all you can do is watch from the sidelines, still too embarrassed to approach him, but also unable to tear your eyes away.

there’s something so confident about him, so effortlessly kind, and you begin to notice the way he always looks out for people. he’s just a regular guy, right? except he’s mingyu, and somehow, he makes everything look effortless.

oooh, and those. arms.

and you? well, you’re still stumbling through the basics. and you learned pretty early on that no amount of cardio can beat your heartrate every time your gaze catches a sight of kim mingyu.

“y/n, you’re going again?” jeonghan asks, raising an eyebrow as you tie your sneakers, preparing for yet another trip to the gym.

“yeah, i—um, just need to clear my head,” you mumble, looking down at your shoes to avoid his teasing gaze.

jeonghan grins. “mhm, sure you do. so, what? you’ve got your eyes on some hunk down there?” he teases, making air quotes with his fingers, clearly referring to some “eye candy” at the gym. “someone’s been going to the gym a lot recently…”

you freeze, trying to play it cool. “what?” you ask, slightly panicking. “no, i-i’m just, you know, trying to get out of a rut with my studies. nothing else.”

jeonghan watches you carefully, then his eyes widen. “wait… there is someone, isn’t there?” he grins widely, and it suddenly hits you. “wait, y/n, don’t tell me that it’s kim mingyu? the gym’s golden boy?” he laughs, clearly amused by your flustered face.

you freeze in shock. “what? no—he’s just a guy who works out a lot! i mean, yeah, he’s nice, but it’s not like—”

jeonghan bursts out laughing. “so you do know him! oh, honey, don’t even try to act like you’re not into him. everyone knows who mingyu is. have you seen him? dude’s got the perfect physique, perfect grades, perfect car, and perfect everything. i’ve heard he’s loaded too. his dad’s some big-time olympic weightlifting official. he’s literally the walking definition of the ‘golden boy’ on campus.”

you blink, your mind struggling to keep up with the avalanche of information. “wait… the olympics? his dad?”

jeonghan nods. “yeah, exactly. i’ve heard he comes from a pretty well-off family too. so yeah, mingyu’s literally perfect. it’s no surprise that he’s in everyone’s top ten crush list.”

you feel your face heating up as the realization settles in. “oh my god…”

jeonghan chuckles, clearly enjoying how flustered you are. “don’t worry, y/n. if you want to stare at a perfect person in peace, you just gotta deal with the fact that you’re not the only one who has their eyes on him.”

you groan, burying your face in your hands. “stop teasing me,” you mumble, but there’s no denying the fact that you’re definitely starting to feel a little more… interested than you’d like to admit. but it’s just a silly gym crush. definitely.

as if he wasn't already a regular in your daydreams, you bump into him again, outside of the gym this time.

the first time is when you’re standing outside the lecture hall, waiting for class to start, fiddling with the sleeve of your hoodie. your mind’s still racing from last night’s study session, and you’re so absorbed in your thoughts that you barely notice when the doors to the hall open. as you look up, though, you catch a glimpse of a familiar face.

mingyu.

he’s wearing his usual easy-going smile, his gym bag slung casually over one shoulder, walking right into the building like he owns the place. you stare at him, frozen, as your heart rate picks up. he’s in your class?

“y/n?” a voice snaps you out of your trance.

you look over to see jeonghan, who raises an eyebrow at your flushed face. “you okay?” he asks, his lips quirking into a teasing smile as he follows your line of sight.

“uh, yeah… just didn’t expect to see… him.” you try to sound casual, pointing toward mingyu, but your voice cracks slightly.

jeonghan looks over, nonchalant, as if he didn’t just see your face turn fifty shades of red. “oh. him. so, you’re saying you haven’t noticed our campus' very own golden boy in your minor classes? phys ed major, i heard.”

“he’s a…?” you blink, confused.

“yeah,” jeonghan smirks, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “mingyu. doesn’t surprise me, though. he’s always around. always looks like he’s got his life together, the body of a perfect poster boy for fitness promos in those gyms across town.”

you watch mingyu walk into the lecture hall, now knowing the one thing that had never occurred to you: he’s actually here, at the same school as you. sharing a class with you, at that.

it’s like a punch to the gut. of course he is.

and you? you’re here, stumbling through calculus with a mountain of textbooks you can never seem to get through.

but you can’t stop thinking about how easy mingyu makes everything look.

turns out… going to the gym wasn’t the worst decision you’ve ever made.

you weren’t exactly sculpting a six-pack yet, but you didn’t feel like complete shit all the time now. your brain fog was thinning, your mood was lighter, and you kinda liked walking past your reflection and noticing how your arms didn’t look so soft anymore. jeonghan had clocked it too.

“look at you,” he teased one night while you were getting ready for another house party he dragged you to. “all swole and glowy. is this a gym glow? did mingyu spot you or something?”

you rolled your eyes, fumbling with a random lock of your hair. ���well… he’s definitely a looker, i do think it wouldn’t hurt to gawk at him wearing a compression shirt a few times a week.” you admitted, trying to keep your voice casual but you could already feel the heat crawling up your neck.

jeonghan gasped, immediately abandoning his lip balm to lean closer. “no way. tell me more.”

you huffed, giving in. “he’s just—okay, he’s really tall. and stupidly buff. and he always looks like he walked out of some greek mythology fanfic. and he’s nice?? like unfairly nice.”

“oh, babe. poor you. no one comes out of a gym crush on him alive.”

you both laughed it off, but the truth was… you were actually starting to enjoy the gym. not just for the obvious eye candy, but because it made you feel good. and you were slowly clawing your way out of that academic slump one sweat-soaked session at a time.

and parties helped too.

jeonghan had been on a social streak lately, dragging you to every decent gathering he caught wind of. and for once, you weren’t staying glued to the walls. you mingled, you danced, you maybe flirted a little.

like that one night with the guy named chan.

cute boy. bright smile. quick to pour you a drink and compliment your hair. he was a little too eager, but harmless. you didn’t mind giving him a peck on the cheek, his cheeks blushing a dusty pink in response.

“what year are you in?” you asked casually over the music.

“i’m a sophomore!” he beamed.

“oh,” you blinked. “you’re...”

his smile faltered a little at your sudden reluctance. jeonghan appeared at your elbow at the perfect moment, smirking. “poor kid. you just got downgraded to ‘little brother’ status.”

chan pouted but took it like a champ, even offering to get you another drink before you politely excused yourself. harmless. kinda endearing, honestly.

but the real kicker came a week later.

you were halfway through a very sad attempt at curling a dumbbell too heavy for your current strength level when someone suddenly appeared in your peripheral vision.

“oh, hey,” a boy with bright eyes and soft features said, slightly breathless like he’d jogged over. “you’re… y/n, right?”

you blinked. “um— yeah?”

“i—i’m chan.”

“nice to meet you, chan.” wait.

you stopped your reps abruptly.

he rubbed the back of his neck, looking nervous. “i, uh, think we met at that party last week?”

oh no.

the pieces clicked a little too late in your brain, but they did click. he was the cute guy who’d offered you a drink and talked you up, and you, in a half-drunk, affectionate spiral, gave him a kiss on the cheek before finding out he was way too young to be your type, jeonghan saving you as you both run away, making a break for the kitchen.

he looked so hopeful now it physically hurt.

before you could fumble out an apology or awkwardly escape, a very familiar voice called over from the other side of the room.

“yo, chan! quit slacking, get your ass over here.”

mingyu.

he was leaning against the leg press, towel draped over his shoulder again like a damn fitness magazine model. chan gave you an apologetic little smile and jogged over.

you took a moment to quietly die inside.

and then—as if fate wasn’t already laughing at you—mingyu clapped a hand on chan’s shoulder and grinned, talking loud enough for you to catch while pretending not to.

“this kid’s soft as hell, y’know that? started hitting the gym ‘cause some girl at a party broke his heart.”

you nearly choked on your water.

oh my god.

it was you. you were the girl.

mingyu didn’t know, of course. he was teasing chan like a big brother would, completely unaware that the object of the kid’s little tragedy was currently staring wide-eyed at her reflection in the nearest mirror.

you quickly turned away, pretending to be very interested in adjusting your earbuds (it wasn’t even connected to your phone).

fuck. fuckfuckfuck.

it had been a week or so since your… unfortunate run-in with chan at the gym. you’d done your best to laugh it off, though the way mingyu casually mentioned some poor kid started training because of a heartbreak at a frat party had you spiraling internally for a solid three business days. because what were the odds? your chan? apparently heartbreak over a 15 minute encounter was a hell of a pre-workout.

either way, you were ready to get back out there. another weekend, another party—fingers crossed you wouldn’t unknowingly crush some poor guy’s spirit this time and discover their glow-up arc at the campus gym. you sent up a silent prayer as you got dressed, hoping the universe would cut you some slack for once.

you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been a little more… experimental with your outfits lately. nothing wild, just a few tops cropped a little higher, jeans sitting a little lower. maybe if you showed a bit of skin, you’d start to feel as hot as you hoped you looked. besides—you’d been busting your ass at the gym. you deserved to show it off a little.

“okay, i see you!” jeonghan wolf-whistled from the other side of the room when you stepped out of your closet. “damn, baby, if i didn’t know you were one tragic gym crush away from full insanity, i’d think you were tryna pull tonight.”

“maybe i am,” you teased, smoothing your hands down your sides, a little proud of how good you felt lately. maybe it was the gym, maybe it was the new skincare routine seungkwan bullied you into, maybe it was pure spite toward every man who’d ghosted you, but you were glowing a bit, and you weren’t about to waste it.

jeonghan grabbed his keys and slung an arm over your shoulders. “alright, let’s go break hearts—consensually.”

the party was already in full swing when you got there, neon lights bleeding into every room, the bass so deep it made the walls thrum. you lost jeonghan somewhere between the kitchen and the makeshift dancefloor, though not before downing two shots together like some chaotic ritual.

an hour later you were a little tipsy, flushed from dancing, with the beginnings of a hangover clawing at the edges of your brain when you found yourself leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping on lukewarm water. you’d just successfully escaped making out with some ridiculously pretty boy named wonbin you barely knew. his hands had been nice, sure, but his cologne was giving you a headache and you had a 10 a.m. gym session you weren’t about to flake on.

“look at you,” a familiar voice teased, low and warm and way too close to your ear.

you turned your head—and there was mingyu, grinning down at you, tight black polo stretched over his chest and looking like he’d walked out of a men’s fitness ad. or maybe a sin. who could say.

“don’t tell me you’re partying too,” you half-giggled, setting your cup down. “and here i thought you were some gym purist.”

“could say the same for you,” mingyu shot back, leaning against the counter beside you. “what kind of maniac hits the gym after a night at a rager?”

you let out a laugh, the alcohol making you bolder than usual. “an insane one, apparently.”

your gaze dropped—you couldn’t help it—to the way his biceps flexed as he lifted his drink. god, you were barely sober and apparently even less subtle. before your brain could stop you, your hand reached out and squeezed his arm.

a full, proper squeeze.

and then you registered what you’d just done.

“oh my god,” you blurted, snapping your hand back like it burned. “i can’t believe i just did that. i’m so sorry—”

mingyu just barked out a laugh, reaching out to catch your wrist before you could flee the kitchen entirely. “nah, it’s cool. you like it that much, huh?”

his grin was sharp, teasing, and you were definitely too sober for this now. your pulse jumped as his fingers slid from your wrist to your hand, giving it a little squeeze back before letting go.

“i—” you started, but your brain short-circuited.

mingyu tilted his head, still smiling. “come on, i’ll walk you back. wouldn’t wanna lose our future gym freak to some frat house debauchery.”

the walk back was… quieter than you expected. not awkward, just easy. mingyu had one hand shoved into his pocket, the other loosely holding the bottle of water he’d swiped for you on the way out. the cool night air sobered you up faster than any coffee could’ve, but it didn’t stop the way your heart kept doing this stupid little jump every time your arms brushed.

you should’ve felt bad about ditching jeonghan—traitor behavior, honestly. but in your defense, he’d disappeared into a dark corner with someone you swore was a philosophy major who looked like trouble, so technically you were both abandoning each other tonight. friendship cancelled out.

“you good?” mingyu asked, glancing down at you.

you hummed. “better now. needed that fresh air.”

mingyu’s mouth quirked up at the corner. “told you. you’re almost as insane as me.”

you snorted. almost. the man had a literal six-pack under that shirt and probably ran marathons for fun. meanwhile, you nearly keeled over after fifteen minutes on the treadmill your first week.

by the time you reached your dorm building, the campus had quieted down. only the hum of street lamps and the occasional tipsy laughter echoing from other party stragglers.

you fished your keys out of your bag, hands clumsy from a mix of nerves and residual buzz. mingyu leaned against the wall by your door, watching you with that same soft amusement you hated how much you liked.

and you weren’t drunk anymore. you couldn’t blame it on that. not the flutter in your stomach. not the way your fingers twitched at your side.

you liked to believe it was the alcohol, but you knew better. because even sober, even under these shitty yellow hallway lights, mingyu looked unfairly good. and you were still a little bit of a loser inside.

you swallowed, gripping your keys too tight before blurting out, way too fast, “do you—wanna come in? or, i mean, just for a bit. like—i have snacks. and, uh. water. and… i guess my air conditioning’s nice.”

jesus christ.

your voice cracked a little at the end and you wanted to throw yourself out a window.

mingyu’s brow arched in surprise for half a second before a slow grin spread across his face. not cocky. not smug. just… warm. maybe a little endeared.

“snacks and air conditioning, huh?” he teased, tucking his hands into his jean pockets. “hard to say no to that.”

your ears burned. “it’s fine if you’re tired or whatever—”

but he was already stepping forward, hand reaching to nudge the door open when you finally got the key to work.

“lead the way, gym buddy.”

and god help you, you did.

you don’t know what possessed you. maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the way mingyu looked under those shitty streetlights, hair a little messy, grin too easy. either way, you were now standing in your tiny dorm, watching him take a seat on your bed like he’s been here a hundred times before.

and you? you were having a mental breakdown.

“oh my god, what am i doing,” you muttered under your breath, moving to your tiny fridge to grab two bottled waters like your life depended on it. your hands shook a little, and you cursed yourself for acting like you’d never had a boy in your room before — let alone this boy. this unfairly gorgeous, golden boy, smile-that-can-take-down-roman-empires , literal greek god of a man—kim mingyu.

“you good?” mingyu chuckled, and when you turned, he was grinning at you, legs spread lazily, leaning back on his hands like he owned the place. “you’re acting like you just smuggled me in past your strict parents or something.”

you huffed out a laugh, plopping down a water bottle next to him on the bed and keeping a very respectful distance on the opposite side. “sorry. i just—this wasn’t planned. like at all.”

mingyu shrugged, cracking open the bottle. “spur of the moment’s fun sometimes.”

you eyed him, unsure what to do with yourself, fidgeting with the label on your own bottle. “if you wanna head back to the party, you totally can. i mean, i’m tucking in for the night anyway. i promise i’m completely sober now, so no babysitting required.”

he looked at you, one brow raised, a teasing glint in his eye. “and miss out on the snacks and air conditioning you promised? no way.”

you rolled your eyes but smiled, heart doing its usual ridiculous flip when his knee brushed yours. casual. accidental. but you felt it all the same.

“plus,” mingyu added, leaning a little closer, voice dropping in that way that made your stomach twist up in knots. “what about our gym sesh tomorrow? together?”

you blinked. “our… what now?”

he laughed, reaching over to pluck the bottle from your hands and set it aside like you were both settling in for a long talk. “you’ve been avoiding me at the gym, you know.”

“i have not—”

“have too.”

your face warmed again. “okay, maybe a little. it’s intimidating, okay? you’re like… you.”

mingyu’s grin softened, eyes crinkling into those damn crescent moons. “i’m just a dude, y/n. and apparently, i’m now a dude who ditches parties for you.”

your head spun.

“you’re insane.” you try to brush it off.

“almost as insane as you.” he pushes further.

you laughed, the sound filling the room like something easy, and when mingyu’s hand found yours for half a second—a fleeting touch, a gentle squeeze before letting go — you didn’t even think about pulling away.

and you know what? maybe jeonghan was right. maybe you did have a type.

snack wrappers littered your coffee table, the air conditioning blasting at a level jeonghan would dramatically declare a war crime if he were here. you glanced over at mingyu, who looked far too at home on your couch, long legs stretched out, hair a little messy, that annoyingly perfect face lit by the glow of the tv screen playing some random old action movie neither of you were really watching.

“you don’t mind me staying over, do you?” mingyu asked, suddenly, tone so casual it made your brain short-circuit.

you choked on your water. “w-what? no! i mean—no, not at all! you can stay. totally. of course. i mean, obviously you’re gonna be on the couch, hahah, it’s totally fine, not weird at all.”

he raised a brow at you, clearly amused. “didn’t even ask to share the bed, y/n.”

“right! of course. couch it is.” you fumbled, standing up a little too quickly. “i’m—gonna wash up.”

you darted toward the balcony, trying not to faceplant on the way, heart hammering so stupidly hard in your chest it felt like a crime. outside, the night air was cool against your skin, and you grabbed a hanger off the clothesline — one of jeonghan’s oversized shirts and a pair of old sweatpants, thankfully dry and still carrying a faint scent of clean detergent and your roommate’s obnoxiously expensive cologne.

when you stepped back inside, mingyu was still sprawled on the couch, only now looking over his shoulder at you with a soft little grin. you cleared your throat, holding up the clothes. “these should fit. jeonghan’s taller than me, but probably not as tall as you, but he loves baggy clothes, so… y’know. good enough.”

“they’ll be perfect.” mingyu smiled, and you couldn’t believe how easy it looked on him.

you escaped to the bathroom, scrubbing your makeup off and washing up as fast as humanly possible, trying not to analyze your reflection too hard, might risk an existential crisis if you did. when you came out, hair wet and towel draped over your head, you froze.

because mingyu was already changed.

and holy shit—jeonghan’s oversized clothes looked offensively good on him. the shirt stretched just enough over his broad shoulders, the sweatpants hung low on his hips, and he gave you that soft, grateful grin like he wasn’t lowkey ruining your life.

“thanks for this, by the way.” he said, plucking a stray thread off the hem of his sleeve.

you nodded wordlessly, eyes shamelessly fixed on him now, not even bothering to pretend otherwise. your feet carried you over to grab your own water bottle, and then—because your brain was fried and you didn’t know what else to do with yourself—you dropped down cross-legged on the floor in front of the couch, towel still draped over your head, grabbing the remote with one hand and surfing aimlessly through streaming services, while the other dried your hair with the towel.

mingyu leaned forward. “give me that.”

you blinked, snapping out of your momentary daze. “huh?”

“your towel,” he said, grinning like it was the most natural thing in the world. “your hair’s dripping. let me dry it.”

“you don’t have to—”

“i want to.” he smiles. that damn smile again.

and because you were a fool, you let him.

he sat on the couch, legs on either side of you, the towel over your head as his hands worked gently, drying your hair with easy, practiced motions. his fingers brushed the nape of your neck, and your heart straight-up stopped functioning properly. the domesticity of it all, the weird, too-close familiarity, it was driving you absolutely insane.

you swallowed hard, your cheeks heating up so bad you were thankful your wet hair could still pass for cold skin. and maybe it was the way his thumb lingered on your jaw, just a little too long, or the fact that his legs bracketed yours like some kind of ridiculously domestic setup—either way, you felt that invisible line between you both shift. and for the first time since this night started, you weren’t sure if you wanted to stay on the safe side of it.

“there,” mingyu murmured after a while, pulling the towel off your head with a final little tousle, his voice low and weirdly fond. “all good.”

you fiddled with the hem of your shorts, feeling way too aware of how close he was. the room felt quieter now, save for the hum of the air conditioning and the faint sound of the tv playing some car chase scene neither of you were watching.

“okay, so… um.” you cleared your throat, standing up abruptly. “you can take the bed. i’ll sleep on the couch.”

mingyu’s brows shot up. “what? no way.”

“what do you mean ‘no way’? you’re a guest.” you protested, already grabbing a pillow and a spare blanket from the closet.

“y/n, look at me.” he gestured down at himself, at the way his knees practically hit his chest sitting on your too-small couch. “i can’t even sit on that thing properly, let alone sleep. you’d be sentencing me to a night of back pain and leg cramps. i’m not making you sleep out here just for my sake.”

you scowled, stubborn. “but it’s my bed.”

“exactly. and it’s your apartment, so you deserve the comfy bed.”

“jeonghan’s room’s locked.” you grumbled, trying not to sound as flustered as you felt. “he never leaves it unlocked when he’s not here. no other choice.”

mingyu leaned back against the couch, flashing you a crooked grin. “then we share.”

your brain practically bluescreened.

“w-wait, what?”

“the bed. we share. it’s big enough, isn’t it?” his grin widened. “i promise not to hog the blanket.”

you opened and closed your mouth a few times, grasping for some kind of coherent argument but coming up short because damn it, he was right. the couch barely fit him sitting down—there was no way he’d be able to sleep on it comfortably. and you weren’t about to let him throw his back out for a stupid reason like this.

“fine,” you muttered, heat prickling at the back of your neck. “but stay on your side.”

“scout’s honor.” he held up two fingers in mock solemnity.

“and don’t snore.”

“i don’t snore.”

“i’ll be the judge of that.”

you grabbed your phone charger and shuffled into your room, leaving the door open behind you. mingyu followed a beat later, still grinning like the smug menace he was. and even though every rational part of your brain screamed that this was such a bad idea, a tiny, reckless voice at the back of your head whispered that maybe, just maybe, you kind of wanted to find out what it felt like to fall asleep next to someone like him.

for the record: it was totally the alcohol talking.

probably.

maybe?

…fuck.

you told yourself it was fine.

just two pals. gym buddies. campus friends. besties.

two completely platonic people sharing a bed because of spatial logistics and the cruel, unrelenting limits of furniture design.

haha.

ha.

you were malfunctioning.

you sat on your side of the bed, clutching your phone like a lifeline as mingyu tugged the blanket over himself with an ease that should not have made your stomach flip. he lay there, eyes fluttering shut almost immediately like the world’s most peaceful golden retriever, while you stared at the ceiling, brain absolutely going to hell.

‘totally normal. nothing weird. just two amigos. chingus! bros!’

you squeezed your eyes shut and forced yourself to sleep, repeating the words like a desperate mantra. and for a while, it worked. you drifted off into something hazy and warm, the hum of the air conditioning and mingyu’s even breathing lulling you under.

until a shift in weight on the mattress made your eyes snap open.

and you felt it—a puff of warm breath against the curve of your neck, so close you shivered.

‘oh my god.’

you yelped, a tiny, startled squeak that made mingyu jolt awake, eyes bleary and confused.

“shit— sorry! sorry, did i—” he started, voice rough from sleep.

“no, it’s— it’s okay, i just—” you flailed for words, completely undone.

he rubbed at his eyes, blinking at you with a sheepish smile. “i tend to roll over a lot when i sleep. didn’t mean to get all up in your space.”

“it’s fine,” you mumbled, cheeks burning.

he studied you for a beat, then tilted his head, grinning softly. “you sure? i mean… you didn’t seem that mad.”

you wanted to crawl under the covers and never come out.

“it was…” you swallowed. “weirdly nice.”

his grin turned smug. “yeah?”

before you could lie or backtrack, he shifted again—leaning in until his lips brushed the same spot on your neck, the featherlight contact making your skin prickle.

“like this?” he murmured, half-asleep and reckless.

you could barely breathe. “mingyu…”

your voice cracked, hoarse and small in the dark.

he hummed against your skin, one strong arm draping lazily around your waist, pulling you back against his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. you could feel the steady beat of his heart, the solid warmth of his body.

“i like this,” he whispered, barely audible.

and just like that, every single one of your loser brain cells went into cardiac arrest.

his arm around your waist felt heavy. solid. grounding in a way that made your breath hitch.

and then there was his hand—splayed across your stomach, fingertips brushing the hem of your sleep shirt, barely touching skin but leaving a trail of heat in their wake. his face was still buried against your neck, his lips pressing featherlight there, like he wasn’t fully awake, like his body was moving on instinct alone.

and god, it shouldn’t have felt this good.

you swallowed, pulse stuttering in your throat, trying not to focus on the way your thighs instinctively pressed together under the covers.

‘what the fuck is wrong with me?’

this was mingyu. your gym buddy. the guy who spotted you when you were too scared to touch the free weights. the man who chugged protein shakes like water and complained about his laundry bill.

but now he was pressed up against you in your tiny dorm bed, all warm muscle and lazy affection, and you felt… something.

something low and traitorous in your stomach, fluttering sharp and hot between your legs in a way you hadn’t expected. a dull ache, a clench of nothingness that made you shift in place without meaning to.

and of course, of course, mingyu noticed.

“hm? you okay?” he mumbled, voice still husky with sleep, his hand tightening a fraction around your waist.

you let out a breath that sounded dangerously close to a whimper and hoped to god it passed for sleepy noise.

“yeah,” you whispered. “just… warm.”

“you want me to move?”

the words made your stomach drop. panic spiked sharp and bright in your chest.

“no!” too quick, too loud. you winced, immediately mortified. “i mea—it’s fine. i like it.”

his smile was lazy, smug even in half-sleep. “yeah?”

you bit your lip. “yeah.”

and then his hand slid a little lower.

not on purpose—you told yourself it wasn’t on purpose—but the way his palm brushed the dip of your hip, fingers grazing bare skin, made you feel that something again.

your breath hitched.

‘oh my god.’

your brain was a storm of sirens and red flags but your body didn’t care. it was already reacting, warmth pooling in places you didn’t dare name, and you squeezed your eyes shut, praying he couldn’t tell.

but mingyu, perceptive even in sleep, let out a low chuckle against your skin.

“you’re kinda squirmy, y/n,” he teased softly.

“shut up,” you croaked, absolutely humiliated, heat rushing to your face.

he laughed, that same warm, boyish sound that always made your chest hurt, and settled in closer.

“don’t worry,” he whispered, his lips ghosting your ear. “i don’t mind.”

you didn’t know who moved first.

maybe it was the way his fingers curled against your skin, rough pads stroking just a little too slow, a little too deliberate.

maybe it was you—traitorous, loser brain short-circuiting—turning your face toward his, catching the curve of his smile in the dark.

maybe it was the sheer tension that had been crackling between you for weeks, building in glances, brushes of hands, the weight of his gaze on you across a crowded gym floor. it had to break sometime.

and it did.

because then his lips were on yours.

soft, warm, tasting faintly of the cheap beer from earlier and the mint of your toothpaste. it was clumsy at first, a messy slide of mouths and teeth, a surprised noise catching in your throat as his hand tilted your jaw, deepening the kiss.

“fuck,” you breathed when you broke apart, and mingyu just grinned against your skin.

“you sure?” he murmured, thumb stroking under your chin, eyes searching yours in the dim light.

and you—flustered, awkward, a little tipsy but painfully sober now—nodded. “yeah. yeah, i’m sure.”

he kissed you again, slower this time, one hand at the small of your back pulling you flush against him. you felt everything—the press of his chest, the solid heat of his thigh between yours, and the unmistakable, undeniable hardness against your hip.

your head spun.

‘oh my god.’

mingyu pulled back just enough to laugh, breath warm on your cheek. “now who’s feeling something?”

“shut up,” you gasped, but you were smiling, you couldn’t stop smiling, even as your face burned and your hands trembled where they clutched his t-shirt.

his thumb brushed your bottom lip. “can i—?”

“please.”

he was so gentle, like he thought you might break if he touched you wrong, murmuring your name like it was a prayer, all those muscles for show but his touch impossibly careful.

the room spun, your heartbeat louder than the air conditioner, mingyu’s breath ragged in your ear as he settled between your thighs, his hand slipping under the waistband of your shorts and—

“mingyu,” you whimpered, your voice cracking, half-laughing at yourself because holy shit this was really happening.

“i got you,” he promised, lips ghosting your jaw. “i’ll take care of you, y/n.”

and he did.

slow, achingly careful, like you were something precious—and for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe you were.

then it was a tangle of hands, mouths, clothes splayed somewhere in the dark, it was messy and desperate and you should’ve known better than to underestimate him. you’d seen those muscles at the gym, felt them under your hands—but it wasn’t until now, when he hooked your thigh over his hip and pressed you down into the mattress, that you realized just how strong he really was.

and when he flipped you onto your stomach like you weighed nothing, his palm sliding down your back in a slow, reverent stroke, your brain short-circuited.

“jesus christ,” you gasped, cheek pressed to the pillow.

“like this?” he murmured against your ear, voice low and warm.

you barely managed to nod.

he started slow, careful—his hips rolling into yours, lazy and deep, one hand laced with yours against the pillow. you felt the strain in his forearm where it bracketed your head, the soft curse in your ear at how tight you clenched around him.

then, when your hips pushed back into him, a helpless little sound catching in your throat, something in him snapped.

the next thrust was harder—not rough, but deeper, firmer, his hips snapping against yours with a rhythm that made your toes curl and your eyes squeeze shut.

“fuck—mingyu,” you choked out, hands clawing at the sheets.

he groaned, head dropping to your shoulder, breath hot against your skin. “feel so good, baby,” he rasped. “been wanting this—wanted you—”

you couldn’t answer, too busy trying not to drool into your pillow as he kept going, the thick drag of him inside you dizzying. it was too much and not enough at the same time, your body trembling and brain turning to static.

every roll of his hips made your breath hitch, the room filled with the slick, filthy sound of skin against skin, the low broken noises leaving both your mouths.

and even as his pace picked up, as your body went pliant under his and your legs shook, mingyu was still achingly gentle in how he touched you—hand smoothing your hair from your face, lips brushing the back of your shoulder.

“good girl,” he groaned, voice cracking as his rhythm faltered. “fuck—‘m close—gonna—”

his hips stuttered, a deep, desperate moan spilling from his throat as he pulled out last second, rutting his cock against the curve of your ass as he came hard, hot ropes of it painting your lower back and thighs.

your body trembled, face buried in the pillow, breath ragged and uneven as you felt the warmth of it on your skin, the heavy, shaky way he exhaled against your shoulder.

and for a moment, neither of you moved—just the soft hum of the air conditioner, the buzz of blood in your ears, and the lingering ache between your thighs.

he collapsed on top of you, catching himself just in time, his strong arms holding you close as he tugged you into his chest. you were too tired to protest, too exhausted to do anything but let him hold you, feeling the heat of his body against yours.

his arms were so strong, tanned and muscular, yet the way he held you was impossibly soft. despite everything—the hours you’d spent at the gym, the newfound strength you were building—you felt so small in his hold, a feeling you couldn’t deny you loved. it wasn’t in the sense of weakness, but in how careful he was with you, how you felt like he was holding you like you were the most fragile thing in the world. his warmth, his scent—it was all consuming in the best way.

“fuck,” he whispered, his voice raw. “you’re amazing.”

you smiled, your heart fluttering, but you didn’t have the energy to respond. all you wanted to do was lie there, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek as he held you close. it was almost as if the world had stopped. just the two of you, tangled in the sheets, in each other’s arms. his hand ran over your back, a soft, soothing motion that made you want to curl further into him, to let yourself fall into the safe space he’d created.

after a few quiet minutes, you felt the bed shift as mingyu reluctantly untangled himself. you made a small sound of protest, but he just chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “hang on,” he murmured. the mattress dipped again when he returned, and then—

a wet, warm cloth brushed over your skin.

your breath hitched, a soft gasp escaping before you could stop it. the gentle, careful way he wiped you down made your whole body ache in a different way, a deep, fluttery warmth blooming in your chest.

“just cleaning you up,” he said quietly, his voice so tender it made your stomach flip. “can’t have my girl falling asleep like this.”

and you would’ve made some flirty comment if you weren’t so bone-tired. though, in your haze, your eyes flickered down and caught the cloth in his hand—wait. was that… jeonghan’s shirt? you squinted, brain foggy, but you could recognize that obnoxious band tee anywhere. a breathy, disbelieving laugh slipped from your lips.

“is that—?”

mingyu grinned, clearly unbothered, continuing to wipe you down with maddening gentleness. “it’ll go missing after tonight, hope he won’t miss it.” he lets out an airy chuckle.

you wanted to laugh with him but the tenderness with every touch and wipe over your skin made your throat feel tight, your eyes blinking back slumber, overwhelmed in the best, most ridiculous way.

when he finished, he tossed the poor shirt aside and pulled you back into his arms like he’d never let go. “don’t wanna move,” he mumbled against your hair, pressing another kiss to your forehead. his arm tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer. “sleep. we’ve gotta be up for the gym later.”

you almost giggled, but let out a dreamy sigh instead—you were too tired, too content with the way he was holding you. the night had been a whirlwind of emotions and sensations, but here, in his arms, everything felt right. you nodded, not trusting your voice, but somehow, that was enough for him.

the room was silent now, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning and your steady breaths. he shifted just slightly, ensuring you were tucked securely against him, and before long, you felt the weight of sleep tugging at your eyelids.

you drifted off, wrapped in his warmth, still feeling the echoes of everything that had happened. for once, you didn’t feel like that burned out student who can barely lift anything at the gym anymore. not when you had someone like mingyu holding you this tightly. you could lift the whole world with this euphoric feeling.

the next morning came too fast.

mingyu kissed you before he left, still smelling like your bodywash and the lingering trace of sweat and skin. you were half-asleep, face buried in your pillow as you felt the press of his lips against your temple, his voice a low murmur. “i’ll see you at the gym, cutie.”

then the door clicked shut, and you groaned into your sheets.

by the time you dragged yourself to the gym, your legs were jelly, your thighs aching in ways you hadn’t expected. you caught mingyu leaning against the front desk, grinning like he hadn’t just rearranged your guts a few hours ago.

“leg day?” he asked innocently, one brow arched.

you scowled. “i am so not doing leg day.”

he laughed—the kind of laugh that made you want to hit him and kiss him at the same time. “c’mon, i’ll go easy on you.”

“you said that last time, you liar.”

still, you let him lead you through the warm-up, pretending you weren’t staring when his shirt lifted a little, exposing tan skin and the cut of his abs. your banter bounced back and forth, teasing, smug little grins exchanged between reps. you managed to trip over your own foot during lunges, and mingyu caught you by the waist like it was nothing, steadying you with those massive hands—the same ones that held you close last night, skin to skin. before you had the chance to get over the thought, he had already tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“careful, lightweight,” he teased.

you rolled your eyes, heart pounding way too hard for a simple gym mishap.

it was gonna be a long morning.

after the gym session, you and mingyu were a mess of sweat and sore muscles, but there was still an undeniable energy buzzing between you. you didn’t want to go home yet, not when he was looking at you like that—eyes soft, smile easy, and that unmistakable pull between the two of you that hadn’t quite worn off yet.

“smoothie?” mingyu asked, his voice almost too casual, but you could tell he was trying to keep his cool.

you blinked, still trying to catch your breath after a killer session. “uh, sure, i’m down for a smoothie.”

the smoothie place was just a block away, and soon enough you were sitting at a little outdoor table with your huge cups, the kind of smoothies that were so large you could probably share with a small army. but instead, mingyu leaned toward you, grabbing one of the oversized straws and slipping it into his mouth.

“i’m serious about the flavor,” he said with a grin, “this is the one. trust me. the secret add-on’s spinach, by the way.”

you rolled your eyes and gave him a playful look, but didn’t argue. you took a sip from the same straw, the cold tang of mango, strawberry, and pineapple flooding your senses, no weird spinach flavor in sight. it tasted like summer. and something else, too—something sweet and comfortable that made you want to stay here in this moment forever.

mingyu was looking at you again, that soft, almost shy smile on his face, and for once, you didn’t feel like you wanted to leave, even if conversations stretched for hours. you didn’t feel like the try-hard academic you push yourself to be.

no, with mingyu, you were just you—the girl he had kissed and laughed with and shared a smoothie with. there were no pretenses between you two anymore, no more awkward glances or confusing feelings. it was simple. it was easy. and that made everything feel right.

“it’s good, right?” mingyu asked, taking another sip.

you smiled at him, your lips still tingling from the kiss the night before. “yeah. you were right.”

he leaned back, looking like he was about to say something, but instead, he just chuckled softly. “this smoothie tastes like something my future partner would like.”

you raised an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at your lips. “bold of you to assume they’d date a guy who puts spinach in his smoothies.”

mingyu laughed, eyes crinkling. “what, you don’t think so?”

you leaned back, crossing your arms with a smirk. “guess that’s something my future boyfriend will find out.”

and with that, everything seemed to click. it wasn’t just the gym, or the smoothies, or the fact that you were already falling asleep on him every night. it was this—being with him, sharing these little moments that felt so much bigger than anything you could’ve imagined.

mingyu looked at you then, his expression soft and sincere, and you realized that this—whatever this was—was real. you weren’t just friends anymore. you weren’t just gym buddies. you were something more, and that was enough for you.

as you sat there, sipping your smoothie and enjoying the warm morning sun, you couldn’t help but smile. things with mingyu were simple, but they felt so right. and right now, that was all you needed.

a/n: phew this has been such fun to write <33 and i hope it gets as much love as its preview !! tysm to carats and other multistans ^^~ if u liked reading this, drop me a follow, lets be moots !! and feel free to send in prompts of ur favorite idols to my inbox ~ i prioritize requests and they r always open !! have a nice day every1 !!!!!!!!!!

[masoncantthinkofaname]

My advice as someone who has shifted many times

Got some really sweet comments on my last post, and I decided I should probably get myself over my fear of posting here. I just love everyone in this community, you're all family to me💚

First, and most importantly, coffee:

When I posted my introduction here, a couple of months ago, I felt like I was already quite an experienced shifter. 4 kids, the most amazing husband, a life outside of this reality longer than I lived within it.

Looking back on it now, more than 500 years later, 3 more kids, 4 grandchildren, I was almost like a baby still, and even at this moment in time, I feel like I'm only at the start of my journey.

However, for the people that know my tiktok account, I have shifted to a lot of places by now. Experienced immortality as a human, as a deity, I've seen different cultures practice shifting, and taught shifting to every single one of me and my husband's children.

My main purpose in coming back here, is to help others achieve what I finally managed after years of trying. I want you all to pursue your dreams, and find the infinite happiness you so deserve.

So here is some advice:

Shifting itself is extremely simple. You want something, you get it. The concept of the reality that we're in doesn't allow for instant 'manifestations', but that doesn't mean you can't do it. It just means that, this reality by itself, doesn't have the rule of ''you desire something = you get it.'' That's where humans came up with the term ''manifestation,'' but it's simple really; you persist in wanting something, so you shift somewhere you have it. How easy that is can depend on the person, but every single one is capable of doing it, it's not technically any more difficult.

There are realities out there where, ''you want something'' does equal ''you get it,'' the term manifestation wouldn't even exist in those places, it's just as natural as it is for you here to feel as though you struggle attracting your desires.

I do not want to be rude to anyone, but there is no key to shifting. Anyone claiming they have the method to shift, or know the key to it, is overcomplicating it. Shifting is shifting, you don't need anything for it. Just existing, being aware, that's all you need to shift. HOW you do it, depends on the person. Assumptions, methods, intention, they're all tools to help you, but they're not the key.

You can shift while showering, while taking a dump, you can jump in the air and yell ''Yippie!!!'' to shift if you would believe that it works. An actual method? A joke method? There's no difference between them. The only real difference? You assume one to work, and one to not do anything, and that's where our limited mindsets are created.

I've seen so many different groups by now. People that shifted through meditation, through rituals, a group that would quite literally dive into a lake that they saw as magic, but also people that simply just, decided they wanted it, and shifted seconds later. They were raised with those beliefs, so they work for them.

And you here? You're raised in a society that tells you that you have to work for what you want, that a dream life is impossible, nothing is for free. And then you wonder why you struggle with shifting, why it's so hard to believe that you can do something so incredibly simple. Your struggles are valid, it is not your fault.

As an awareness you're so much more than the 3d, you're so much more than the body or brain you're aware of. You're simply a guest in this body, until it expires or you choose yourself to move on, but that doesn't take away that while you're here, you have to deal with your experiences, memories, and taught mindsets from this place.

That's why, the biggest advice I can give you, is to listen to yourself. Not society, not other people, no one who tries to tell you that they know ''the way.'' If someone's method aligns with you, that is amazing, and definitely put it to practice. But don't force yourself to go through methods and practices that don't feel right for you. If you dread doing it, it's not for you. Find something fun, something that fits your routines and beliefs.

Remember that time has no meaning. 5 days, 5 months, it's not going to matter in 3000 years. Literally nothing can stop your existence, nothing that could happen to you in this reality can ever stop you from existing.

There is no pressure, eternity is waiting for you, be kind to yourself. You are exactly where you're meant to be. It doesn't matter how you shift, so don't make it a chore. Script, create scenarios, daydream, make up your own rituals or find the most fun ways to set intention. You don't need hour long methods of counting, starfish positions and difficult affirmations. Your desires are already heard, your subconscious already knows where you want to go, so enjoy the ride until you get there💚

[yanderedrabbles]

Foreign Yandere x Air Hostess Reader

He's beyond shady. Got connections and friends in all the lowest places. But you're just a little too slow to realise it.

Foreign Yandere who sees you for the first time on his first flight out of the country. He’s a sketchy guy, got a pack of fake passports in a hidden compartment in his bag, but you smile at him like you don’t see the tattoos, the scarred knuckles, the too quick hands.

Oh, you’re pretty. All the cabin crew are, but you’re something new. Exotic almost. Got him wondering exactly how different you are in bed too, got him wondering if you’d put up a fuss if he cornered you in the bathroom. Hell, you might like it. Folk always said foreign girls were down for so much more.

It’s a long-haul flight and your supervisor is bitchy about damn near everything you do. Passengers aren’t much better after twelve hours with their legs cramped up and only shitty plane chow to eat. He can see it wearing on you, can see the way your smile gets tighter after every too sharp complaint. Makes him want to beat their faces into a pulp.

His last straw comes at hour sixteen, when you’re clearly exhausted and one passenger just won’t let up. Practically screaming at you about not getting his specially ordered meal. You’re dealing with it as best you can, but everyone has a limit. He can see the tears starting to brim behind your waterline, can see you struggling to fight them back.

He stands so fast that his seat mate actually flinches. Comes to stand behind you and glares at the troublemaker. The man doesn’t let up, just switches his anger to him.

“You got a problem, huh?”

Foreign Yandere who doesn’t have a lot of English, but he knows a threat when he hears one. He leans down, shoots the man a smile filled with all the menace of a streetfighter.

“What did you say to me?” he asks, in his own language. It isn’t the standard dialect. It’s the regional kind, the type that’s as rough ‘round the edges as its speakers.

The man quails.

 “Sorry,” he mutters. But that’s not good enough.

Foreign Yandere who jerks his head at you, his message clear even across the language barrier.

Apologise to her.

The guy does. Red in the face, resentful about it, spitting his sorry through his teeth like an insult.

You look up at him, the foreigner with the hard eyes, and thank him. In his own language.

Your accent is thick, the pronunciation too rounded on the vowels. But he’ll be damned if it ain’t just fucking adorable.

“Anytime,” he tells you.

It’s not long after he’s back in his seat that you bring him a complimentary cup of coffee and a muffin. The good stuff too, not the swill that usually gets served in economy. He grabs your wrist before you can leave, grip just a little too tight without meaning to be.

“Can I see you again?”

Your grasp of the language isn’t the best, and it takes you a minute to puzzle out what he's asked. When you finally get it, you smile at him and shake your head. Rueful.

“Against company policy to meet the passengers after the flight ends.”

He lets it go. Sighs and says he understands, wouldn’t want to get you in trouble. A surprisingly polite answer from a man who looks like he never hears the word no without following it with a punch to the teeth.

But he doesn’t let it go. Not really. After the plane is deboarded, he skips lines and almost skips customs to keep his eye on you. When you get into a shuttle bus with the rest of your coworkers, he takes careful note of the hotel name scrawled on the side.

His business goes well - if you can call smuggling business that is. The boys he’s dealing with have their own plane to get him home. The kind of small jet that never lands at any airport marked on a map. He slips them all a little something extra under the table and asks if he can bring a guest.

“Will they be conscious?”

He grins. “Not if I can help it.”

Getting you is the tricky part. He borrows a suit and cleans himself up. Shows up at the hotel desk in the middle of the night and tells them he’s here to pick you up for an unscheduled early flight. He knows your name, your company, even your damn rank in the crew. Everything he says checks out. And if the receptionist that calls you thinks he looks a little rough to be a driver, she doesn’t mention it.

You show up with your uniform a tiny bit askew and a sock sticking out of your suitcase. You must have scrambled out of bed without even bothering to double check with your supervisor. Good. The less people that know the better.

He mostly keeps his back to you. Doesn’t want you to recognise him too soon. He shouldn’t have worried. You’re too jetlagged and blurry eyed to even recognise your own mother.

It’s only when you’re in his car and speeding down the wrong highway that you start to get suspicious. Start to come awake fully.

“Which company did you say you work for again?”

He doesn’t reply. You’re going to have to put more effort into learning and speaking his language. No point encouraging you by answering.

“Excuse me?”

You lean forward to get his attention and when he hears your little gasp, he knows the game is up. That you recognise him. Honestly, he’s a little offended that it took you this long. He could keep track of you through a sea of faces back at the airport after all.

“Listen, I don’t know why you’re here. But please stop the car.”

See? You’re speaking his language a bit better already.

“No chance sweetheart. You’re coming home with me.”

He can almost admire your guts when you go straight for the door, despite the speedometer showing over 200. Locked of course. He’s not an idiot.

When he finally arrives at the hangar, it takes him and two other thugs to finally hold you still.

“Fucking feisty thing,” one of them snarls when you land a good kick to his knee.

When he finally manages to prick the injection into your neck, you’re crying so hard that your mascara is running.

“You put up a good fight baby,” he comforts you as you go limp in his arms. “But I just want this more than you.”

His buddies smirk when they look at your body sprawled out on the seat.

“Nice catch. I’m mad I didn’t see her first.”

“You gonna be nice and share?”

That makes him grin. “We’ll see. If she’s too much to handle, well…”

That makes them snicker.

You shouldn’t assume someone’s a thug just ‘cause of the way they look. But in his case, those scars weren’t earned through gentle accidents.

And when he gets you home, someplace probably tropical, someplace where a missing foreigner isn't that surprising a thing, he'll show you exactly how dangerous it is to smile at a criminal and expect him to just let it go.