#IVE BEEN. so fucking stuck. i got it half edited and then went This Is Not Right Yet

[aureliobooks]

(listen i know i drop in out of nowhere every three months saying i’m gonna come back because i’m picking a wip up again but i MEAN IT THIS TIME i’m planning to completely rework wayfarer with a new setting and new character designs and i’m gonna try to actually!! write!!! over my month long break from school!!!! and if this is a lie and you see me say this same thing again a month from now everyone point and laugh <3)

[storiesofsvu]

https://www.tumblr.com/storiesofsvu/756561724151414784/ask-game-for-fanfic-writers

How about every integer of 10? 🙏🫡

10,20,30,40,50,60,70,80,90,100

(or less if that's too much)

ooo bless!

10. at what point in the process do you come up with titles and how easy or hard is that for you?

fuck. i HATE titles. 99% of the time it's the very last thing I do and half the time i forget about it until i open tumblr to make the post. For one shots i generally read through it again and pick a phrase or repeating word and use that. For series: i'll usually pop onto discord with a brief summary and ask if ppl have ideas, otherwise i have a note in my phone of potential titles that are generally song titles or lyrics. i like my series titles to actually mean something and tie into the story whereas i dont give a fuck about the one shots LOL

20. what is your favourite trope to write?

forbidden love? we're gonna pretend that's a thing lol. like, stories have to have conflict and what's better than two people who wanna fuck/date/whatever and either can't or shouldn't, or like, their bosses would frown upon it, right? like, any and all degree of it, not particularly totally forbidden.

30. most inspirational quote you've ever read or heard that's still important to you.

christ. i cannot think of anything rn. My mind went straight to disney because there are so many things that light up my passion/motivation. the last time we were there we saw the "new" (lol) fireworks show and it had this little speech that was all "no go, let your dreams guide you, reach out and find your happily ever after" and it was kinda the resurge i needed at the time to be all "oh fuck, that's right, i just need to focus" as the old fireworks show had a bit that i like, wished on every fucking night and always made me cry about cause of how i related to it. wow i'm SO cool HA.

in high school (performing arts) certain people got to sign the theatre crossover wall at graduation and i got to and i singed it with a Fosse quote but i cannot remember it anymore for the life of me loll

40. best piece of feedback you've ever gotten?

bruh ive got no clue. i dont get/ask for feedback basically ever. esp recently people have been more just "omg so good" or "next part??" uhh... yeah, i dont think anyone ever has minus like a comment here and there with a friend when spitballing and i have a goldfish brain so i cannot remember.

50. do you plan or do you write whatever comes to your mind?

bit of both! for one shots it's usually just the prompt i was given/found and MAYBE a bit of a blurb scenario.

series: i will not start until i have a much more detailed outline and a rough idea of how it's going to end. nothing is specifically labelled and as i work on the story the outline gets longer, more fleshed out, sometimes there's full conversations or smut pieces in the outline and eventually ch's get labelled and sometimes it's like "ch 4, they go to this hotel and fuck" lol

60. where is the most dangerous place that you're written fic?

work. was stuck in the bar (that guests dont have access to) during service time with nothing else to do. my manager literally came in and teased me about not working and then later asked what i was working on and i said "fanfic, but that's all i'm telling you cause a lot o its real gay and real dirty" LOL

70. are you ever critical of your own writing? how much do you find yourself editing (either during or after the fact?)

i'm SO critical, but it's like, when i'm rereading it months down the road and it's been posted and too late to edit LOL. and it's mainly me just looking at old works that are SO trope filled and slightly cringe and include lot of the stuff that i no longer write.

I don't edit too much at all lol. I'll catch most typos or grammar while going/on a brief read through but it's VERY rare i'll actually go back to edit a full passage the next day or anything. Hence my very detailed outlines! i will edit from there to the fic cause i'll add to the outlines whenever something sparks in my brain and i know its good lol.

80. do you try to put themes, motifs, messages, morals, etc in your writing?

uhh... no? LOL. sometimes i do, and sometimes they just end up there completely by accident.

90. do you notice your own voice in your writing style?

absolutely. why do you think there's so much profanity? LOL. but also as someone who writes mainly reader insert, there is a little bit of me in every yn i write

thanks for asking!! <3 (and that's never too much lol)

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

tuxedo iv, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, mentions of previous jungkook x reader

summary: Your life? Oh, it’s normal. Your cat turned into a man yesterday and you just now humped his leg to orgasm. Sorry, what? That’s not normal? O-Of course, it is! It’s like... having a roommate! You argue because you recorded him without his consent. You eat noodles that he’s trying not to bat at all meal. There are skeletons in your closet. Your fingers get stuck in a Chinese finger trap and then you get fingered. Totally normal, by the way!

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, mentions of the coronavirus pandemic; possibly full-on crack; Yoongi LOVES his box; smut (fem reader, mild restraint, penetrative sex, forced orgasms, intentional voyeurism (tsk tsk, Shooky), fingering); domestic and soft moments with your cat-man; non-idol!AU - cat!Yoongi x human!reader; ft shy boy Jeon Jungkook (gasp!!!) POV and bestfriend!Kim Seokjin POV; breaking of the fourth wall; you ARE a furry, oh well

yes, I reference Jin’s iconic Billboard interview answer, The Lion King (1994), Yoongi’s BTS café cereal milkshake, Bill Nye the Science Guy, PENTAGON’s ‘DO or NOT’ / ‘Shine’ / ‘Humph!”, “you got no jams”, The Addams Family (1991) – also there’s a bit of a meme scavenger hunt, I reference too many to list XD

–

part i | part ii | part iii

-

So.

You kinda.

Humped your cat-man’s thigh to orgasm.

You animal.

“Ah… Yoongi,” you started as your cat… man tilted his head, blinking slowly. Unnerving. Why was he staring like that? It reminded you of his previous cat self, where Shooky would watch you with his minty-green eyes, cat face expressionless, whiskers unmoving. What were cats thinking about all the time anyway?

Better yet, what the fuck was Min Yoongi thinking?

You knew what you were thinking. You were thinking that you couldn’t stare at you cum stain on his pink silk pajama leg all day, because that was a master yikes. He had tons of clothes still piled next to the front door of your apartment. All you had to do was convince him to change his outfit. Simple. Easy. Don’t make this weird. Be casual. Be cool as a cucumber. Chill out.

“Um… You should… take off the pajamas… so I can wash them… there are still more clothes you need to try on from the order, right…?”

Your dignity threw up their hands. Why do I even bother being here? I get ignored, the brain in here is smoother than KY Jelly on glass, and you would know, wouldn’t you, you–

“Take them off for me.”

“… P… Pardon?”

“I’m joking.”

He raised an eyebrow, glancing down at your raised hands. You abruptly dropped them, shoving them behind your back. When did that happen? Why did you make grabby hands like that? Surely not because you were expecting anything, right? Definitely not. Not you.

You need help. 

Yoongi turned around, black fur tall swishing, the back of his pink silk pants half-lowered. Your jaw went slack, only to forcefully shut back into place as you realized he was still wearing his black boxer briefs since you had spent yesterday sewing tail holes in his convenience store underwear. Of course, he was still wearing them. There was no reason to take them off.

What, did you want to look at his booty again or something?

(Yes.)

He went through the doorframe of your bedroom without saying a word. 

Hold on a second.

Did Yoongi let you ride his thigh to orgasm, be sweet to you for two seconds, only to fucking bounce without a peep of acknowledgment? Just fucking yeet? Act like that was totally ordinary behavior and saunter off?

Say sike right now.

A millisecond of bravery shot through you and you bolted out of your chair, your desk rattling with your sudden action.

"Yoongi–!"

You nearly collided into him. You weren’t expecting him to be facing you and you yelped in surprise, skidding on your heels. His hands stopped your hips, freezing you in place so you didn't barrel headfirst into his chest. You flailed about, struggling to regain your balance. All this happening while he continued giving you that deadpan stare. Did anything faze this (cat) man? Shit, you were too close to his face. So close you could feel his breath on your nose. 

"You should change too."

Brain malfunctioning at the softness of his tone.

"... W-What?"

Then your neck, ears, face, even your past and future self, the whole timeline became hotter than a supernova, brain erupting into nuclear fusion as Yoongi's deft fingers slid up to the waistband of your leggings, hooking underneath, stroking your skin. He leaned forward, dark eyes out of your vision, chin hovering above your shoulder. 

"Urk?!"

He started pushing your leggings down. 

He started.

Pushing.

Them. 

DOWN!!!

"You can't stay like this all day, right?" Yoongi murmured gently, voice so deep it was resonating in your empty brain, completely clear of all thoughts except those cool fingers pushing your black leggings down, the skintight fabric catching your soaked panties and taking those on the path to hell too, which was probably where you were headed at the rate this was going. "It would be a good idea to change clothes, I think."

You think, Yoongi?

Not you. 

You don't have think. 

A shrill barrage of low meowing cut through the silence.

Your phone was ringing violently in your room. Yoongi paused, backing up with a frown.

"Why is your ringtone a cat chattering?" he asked, tilting his head quizzically. The continuing sonata of cat chitters escalated before his dark eyes narrowed in recognition. He glared at you and pulled his hands away from your hips, snapping you out of your daze.

"You recorded me?"

"What, what, what?" You blinked rapidly, hearing the familiar sharp chirps and barks of Shooky the cat yelling at birds outside the window. "Oh! Well, yeah... it was funny," you explained weakly, trying to shake out the fog of your horny brain. 

"There's nothing funny about trespassers," Yoongi hissed, turning his heel and swiftly marching away. 

"Trespassers?" you echoed, blinking in confusion. That’s why he yelled at them as a cat? Did he think he owned all the land the sun touches or something? The sound was getting louder and louder, indicating the call was about to be missed. No time to think about it. You rushed back into your room, nearly half tripping with your leggings only partway on your ass, scrambling to answer your phone. There was an uncomfortable squish between your legs. Yikes. You did need to change. 

"Hello? Oh, yes, the video? I'm putting it in the Dropbox right now," you babbled, clicking out of a bizarre pop-up ad with some brown-haired guy in a sienna floral shirt and a boxy smile before placing the exported video in the shared Dropbox folder. 

"Sorry, yeah, I know I usually have it done earlier. It's been a weird couple of days..."

-

Kim Seokjin was furious. 

Furious! 

His best friend ignored his face. His beautiful face! How could she! He fumed, deciding to instead spend his time wisely, as he always did.

He stared at his reflection and nodded, stroking his chin. Yes. A true winner. Look at that brilliant smile. Perfect. He looked great today, as he did every day. Seokjin looked away from the mirror on his desk and went back to his MapleStory life.

-

After a quick change and final edits of the completed video sent off to the client, you left your room to find that Yoongi had stacked his new clothes on the coffee table. The brown cardboard box was on the sofa with him (???), as if it was a human being instead of an ordinary box. He had neatly folded the plastic packaging and placed it on the kitchen counter so you could sort it into the correct recycling. 

"Oh... thanks."

He was now wearing a white t-shirt and black pants that actually seemed like they fit, the back of said pants halfway down his butt to accommodate for his tail. He was watching that historical drama; eyes glued the television. The dark brown orbs were hidden by his curtain of black hair. His pointed black ears were turned away from your direction, as if he had no desire to listen to anything you had to say.

As usual.

Yoongi's response was grunting disapprovingly at you. 

You sighed, feeling a little guilty.

"To be fair, I couldn't really ask your consent when you were a cat."

Your cat-man appeared to be out of fucks to give. "You should do laundry," he huffed gruffly. 

You scooted away awkwardly. "Er... yeah. Let me order some delivery for lunch first..."

-

"Yoongi."

"What?"

"What are you doing?"

He stared at his chopsticks, holding them up high. 

"Hmm..."

His pink lips twisted, narrowing his eyes. The fingers in his other hand twitched. He had been staring at the noodles in his ramen for the past five minutes. They were probably cold now. You were getting a bit worried that he didn't like carbs or something. But then you realized that wasn't the case.

His fingers twitched again. 

"They're noodles. Not string."

Yoongi didn't reply, itching to bat at the long noodles. 

"Just put them in your mouth."

He gave you this look. As if to tell you, you don't usually say that. Usually someone else tells you that. 

You thinned your mouth into a line. 

"I know you're admiring the skinny legend that is noodles, but, yes, they're edible. Need I remind you that you used to eat string and I had to pull it out of your mouth when you choked on it?"

Yoongi scowled. Apparently, he did not like being reminded. It wasn’t that pleasant for you to remember either. At least you never had to wait until it passed through his body and never had to pull it out of the other end (ew). He peered them for several more seconds before putting them in his mouth. You noticed his ears perked up as he ate. 

"You like them?" you asked.

He hummed, not looking at you. Was Yoongi still angry about the recording thing? You weren't changing your ringtone regardless of his dissatisfaction. It was cute. You liked it. And he was being a drama queen, acting all catty.

Hold on. 

He was a cat. 

(Man.)

-

"What is this?"

"Dessert."

You took a sip and choked a little at the grainy taste. 

"Is that cereal?"

"Yeah. It's too hard. Better this way."

You gawked at him, holding the weird cereal milkshake with one hand and his half-sewn pants in the other. Was Yoongi being serious or fucking with you? You couldn't tell. His expression was completely neutral. His cat ears were straight up, trained in your direction, judging your reaction. He lifted his free hand and dropped a handful of rice crisps on the top of the thick white drink.

Well. 

Not your preferred thick white drink. 

(You nasty.)

He nodded sagely and sat down beside you. 

"Show me how to sew."

-

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program for you to, please, consider the following. 

See, by all recommendations of building healthy relationships, you should have been a responsible human being and had a serious, but necessary, conversation with your (new?) cat-man. 

Hey, Yoongi, I find you quite physically attractive and we had that moment in my bedroom, so maybe there's some chemistry and, oh, I don't know, maybe you could stick that prefect looking dick inside me because I've been thinking about it nonstop since (checking watch) the literal second I realized it existed, not to be too forward or anything, you know?

That kind of speech could get you a quick restraining order in most cases, but this was your cat (man) who had lived with you – maybe against his will but, then again, he got fed regularly and when you were previously a stray you can’t complain.

So. 

Do or not?

Hmm...

You could have admitted these things, but, alas, this was not the way. No, the way was to remain an absolute fucking mess every time Yoongi leaned over your shoulder to inspect your needlework, nearly stabbing yourself in the finger, your heart leaping your throat, strangling yourself with anxiety. 

Fun!

Could everything be quickly solved by telling the truth?

Debatable. Yoongi didn’t seem like the kind of (cat) man to give you a straight answer. Not because he couldn’t. Mostly because he seemed to enjoy watching you struggle. Were you picking up on that? 

No. You were too busy thinking about dick. 

His dick. 

Honestly, don't know if you should laugh or cry right now. 

-

Jeon Jungkook flipped his phone around and around in his hand, scrunching up his face.

Should he say something?

Yes. No. Yes? No. Yes… No, no, no.

He sighed and threw his phone onto his bed.

He missed and it slid off, hitting the floor. 

That was a bad sign.

“Shit.”

He dived onto the bed, scabbing around on the hardwood to pick up the fallen device. Ah, how come he was thinking about this now? He knew why. He had watched a funny cat video of a tuxedo cat and it reminded him of a certain naughty little fluffball always following around a certain owner. Jungkook hadn’t contacted said owner in nearly a year. Wouldn’t it look bad if he said anything now? But he couldn’t not think about it either. That smile was on his mind all the time now. That feeling from back then, floating around in his head. He sighed again, followed by inhaling with his upper teeth pressed against his inner lower lip, creating a loud sucking sound that no one else could hear because he lived alone.

Alone.

Jungkook lifted his phone, dying sunlight reflecting off the screen, a shine that blinded him for a short moment. He clicked his tongue, squinting as he spied the number still on the screen.

“Ah, why am I always a loser in front of love?”

He wasn’t really saying it to anyone in particular. No one could reply to him anyway.

He tossed the phone carelessly on the pillow and it slid behind it, falling in between the mattress and the bedframe.

“Shit!”

Jungkook spent five minutes fishing his phone out of the narrow crevice before firmly placing it on the bed beside him, pointing at it angrily, glaring at it.

“No! Bad.”

The phone did nothing. It was not sentiment.

Humph! He let out a frustrated puff of breath and flopped down on the bed.

His phone flew up from the force of his flop and smacked him in the nuts.

“SHIT!”

-

“Huh, you pick up things so fast. So meticulous.”

You watched as Yoongi brought the needle through the fabric in slow but clean strokes, following your previous demonstration. For someone who only had opposable thumbs for less than two days, he was surprisingly dexterous. Seemed like he could do a lot with his hands. No. Stop that. Stop being weird.

“Are you a genius?”

Yoongi didn’t hesitate, not looking up.

“Of course.”

You regretted asking. He continued, oblivious to your annoyed expression.

“I’m a cat.”

“All cats are geniuses?” you retorted disbelievingly.

“Most of them are.” His eyes flickered to you, eyebrows raising. “Compared to humans anyway.”

Was this a dig at you and your missing brain cells after running into things chasing after him and your brain exploding at his hotness? Which he wasn’t, by the way. Yeah, that’s right. Take that, Min Yoongi! You’re being mean, so therefore your attractiveness points are going down in this brain, yes, they are and there’s nothing you can do about it, yup, absolutely NOTHING–

He held up the pants, showing off his handiwork.

“Did I do a good job?”

His voice was soft, unsure, head slightly tilted, velvety ears eagerly perked to listen to your response.

Oh no.

Oh nooo.

Oh nooooooo.

He’s cute.

“Yeah. That looks amazing, Yoongi,” you heard yourself saying, smiling at him.

His fair-skinned cheeks flushed pink, lowering the pants quickly to snip the excess thread off, placing the needle in the cat-shaped pincushion like you had done earlier so he could carefully tie a knot to seal his hard work.

Shit.

You were whipped for him.

Damnnit.

To be honest, nothing had changed. You were whipped for him as a cat too.

“I’m going to clear out some space the closet so you have somewhere to put your clothes, okay?”

“A-ah… Thanks…” he mumbled, picking up another pair of pants. Jeans this time.

“Oh, with these you can simply cut the hole. No need to sew because this type of fabric won’t fray too much. Ah, but not directly on the seam. Maybe here?” You pointed slightly to the right of the back middle seam. Your mouth kept talking despite not having any more instructions for him. “Did you know the butt rip was fashionable among women for a little while? Under the pocket though, not the center. That’s just weird.”

Yoongi tilted his head the other way.

“Women are weird,” he said in a deadpan voice.

You narrowed your eyes. “Oi.”

He picked up the scissors, raising an eyebrow at you. “Are you not weird?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but nothing came out. He’s got you there. Shit. You puffed your cheeks and turned around, stalking off to your bedroom. Why was he always right? One day, he won’t be right and you’ll mark it on your fucking calendar. Humph.

You slowed at your doorframe, remembering his sheepishly proud face as he showed off his sewing. Crap. What was Min Yoongi so cute for? And how were you supposed to look at other guys after knowing your cat (man) was so damn adorable? And observant and diligent? And driven to be independent, asking questions and trying to do things on his own not even forty-eight hours after becoming human? Cooking, sewing, folding his own clothes… what’s next, playing the fucking piano?

Yeah, right.

You snorted and went into your bedroom.

-

“What’s this?”

You looked up, half-buried in idol merchandise you didn’t even know you had. How long had these sweatshirts been sitting here in their plastic packages? And these posters left in the tubes at the back of your closet? You shouldn’t own so much stuff. You should sell it. You weren’t going to, because these were limited edition items and you would have to be crazy to sell stuff with the cute faces of your favorite idols. You stuck you head out of the closet to see what Yoongi was referring to.

“What? Oh, that?”

You wheezed in embarrassment, ducking back in the closet, pretending to be busy.

“Uh… so… YouTube and Twitch had a crackdown on using copyrighted music and I thought, well, maybe I could maybe make my own, so I brought a keyboard but, uh…”

You rubbed the back of your head sheepishly, trying to figure out how to say you had no musical inclination and only had the ability to appreciate it.

“Basically, I got no jams.”

The keyboard was still in its box. You had opened it and attempted to learn piano, but well, you were shit. Also, you gave up pretty quickly. It was embarrassing considering you had spent so much money on it and were all confident when buying it, only for it to become a hidden occupant in the back of your closet. This was before Shooky – er, Yoongi – had come into your life. Yes. It had been there for literal years.

“I was going to donate it,” you added with a sigh.

You suddenly noticed something out of the corner of your eye. You frowned and reached in, grabbing the thin, hard object before pulling it out.

A…

Skeleton in your closet.

A long-lost Halloween decoration? Why was this here?

“Can I have it?”

You looked up, holding the mysterious plastic skeleton like a small child. “What?”

Yoongi pointed to the keyboard box, black tail swishing rapidly. There was a liveliness in his dark brown eyes and his pointed ears were sticking straight up. You narrowed your eyes.

“You don’t want that skinny box for some reason, do you?” you accused.

He pursed his lips at you, scowling. “No, you can throw away the box. I want to keep the keyboard.”

Huh? “Uh… okay, I guess. More space in the closet, I suppose. Oh, wait…” You stumbled into the back of the closet, feeling around. “I brought a stand for it, hold on… fuck!” You jammed your finger against a metal pole and howled, quickly retreating your hand to massage it. Fuck, that hurt! Scowling, you reached back in to grab the metal keyboard stand and yank it out from between your tightly packed clothes.

“Are you dead?”

“Shit!”

You jumped nearly ten feet, almost banging your head on the clothing rail if it wasn’t for Yoongi’s swift movement of grabbing your shoulders, pulling you to him. He didn’t have to pull far, because he was right behind you. How did he always sneak up on you when he wore a damn bell around his neck that announced his presence? Sorcery. Aliens. Voodoo witchcraft. Now you were convinced these things existed.

(Your cat turning into a man wasn’t enough for you to believe in magic? What’s wrong with you?)

“You’re really clumsy,” Yoongi remarked.

No, you’re spooky, you thought. One of your hands was on his chest. Instant heart palpitations. And handsome. Crap.

“Are you going to do something weird again?”

Weird? You were never weird. What was this man going on about? You needed to reprimand him. Put him in his place! Enough is enough, Min Yoongi! You can’t win over me every time! You raised your head to face him, opening your mouth to give him a piece of your mind.

Yoongi was centimeters away from your face.

You froze.

Ice effect overlapping your whole body.

You dropped the keyboard stand.

Thankfully, it simply fell against your clothing, leaning against your sweatshirts. It stayed upright, held up by the clothing. You didn’t have to worry about it for the time being. It was perfectly fine, unlike you. You were not fine. Not fine at all, staring at Yoongi’s upturned upper lip and unreadable dark brown eyes, slowly blinking at you. Hands on your shoulders, holding you close to him.

Not letting go.

!!!

-

Jeon Jungkook placed his phone on his desk and chopped the air, threatening it.

It wasn’t sentient.

He still didn’t trust it.

He glared at his phone angrily and shuffled back to his bed to have a nice, calm rest that didn’t involve his nuts getting destroyed. Ugh. He was bored. He had plenty to do. Schoolwork. Studying. Cleaning his room covered in clothes. Attempting to cook.

Jungkook made a face at the ceiling.

The last time he tried to cook some glazed sweet potatoes they had been glued to the plate somehow. A neat magic trick, but not edible. He couldn’t get them to unstick, much less be eaten. He had to order out that night. Come to think of it, he spent most of his money on ordering out. Maybe that was a bad habit.

He ran a hand through his bleached, blond hair that had too much toner in it so it had turned slightly silvery-purple. An at-home experiment. Another bad habit.

Jungkook groaned, rolling onto his face.

“I need someone older to take care of me,” he mumbled into the sheets.

Someone older… with a certain tuxedo cat, perhaps? He pouted even though no one was there to witness his cuteness.

“Ahhhhhhh…”

He yelled quietly into his bedding, letting go.

Finally thinking about you.

In front of you, he could tease. He could poke fun. It was easy. You were just so flustered around him, not really trying to hide your attraction to him. The first time he had met you was when he went bowling with Seokjin-hyung (he won, much to the disdain of his hyung). You had stopped by to say hello and Seokjin had introduced you two. It had been a fairly innocent meeting, mostly because for a long time Jungkook couldn’t open his mouth to say anything at all. You were wearing a huge white t-shirt with a colorful strawberry graphic, a wide-brimmed straw hat, and white sneakers with black laces. It had been a hot summer day, he remembered. You were already pretty simply by standing there, chatting animatedly with his hyung. Jungkook tried not to look too closely, sneaking glances in between your conversation.

Seokjin had absolutely no qualms about shitting on your outfit.

“Yah, grandma, you’re off to pick some strawberries in the field or something?”

You had shoved him, rolling your eyes. “You’re a grandpa too! Look at you, losing to kid.”

Was that referring to him? “Ah, I’m not a kid.” Shit. His Busan dialect slipped out a little in his nervousness, deepening his voice.

Your cheeks had peppered pink. “A-ah… right…”

Oh?

Oh!

Oh!!!

You shook your head abruptly and reached into your tuxedo-cat-printed tote bag. “Here’s your freaking hard drive, you monkey,” you had said to Seokjin, handing over the small paper bag.

“Did you manage to restore all my files?” Seokjin asked worriedly, completely ignoring your insult.

You shrugged, looking rueful. “I don’t know how many you had, but I did the best I could.” You leaned forward, eyes narrowing, whispering in his ear. Didn’t matter. Jungkook was close enough to hear.

“Stop downloading porn!”

Jungkook snorted.

Seokjin glared at you. “Excuse me, I am living a healthy lifestyle, do not judge me!” he hissed. “And not in front of the child!”

Yeah, well, Jungkook didn’t let you think he was a child for long.

He wasn't really sure why he was attracted to you. It wasn't only because you were pretty. He just had a strong urge to get a reaction out of you. Ah, maybe that was it. He liked seeing your reactions to things and did everything he could to get more and more interesting reactions out of you. You never told Jungkook to stop. You told Seokjin to stop all the time.

"I swear if you make one more pun, I'm going to tie your tongue into a knot!"

"Then I'd really be tongue-tied, eh? Eh?! WAIT, NO, WATCH THE FACE, NOT MY FACE!!!"

Jungkook couldn't help himself. He had to mess with you. 

Fuck. 

(Yes, actually.)

He couldn't stop. It was too fun. It didn't help that you had a cute surprised face. Didn't help that you had a great smile. Didn’t help that you had an amazing body under your clothes and knew exactly how to use it (Jungkook wouldn’t admit it, but he learned a lot from you). Didn't help that you would chase after your tuxedo cat and scoop up that furball even after getting railed by him, which Jungkook found very impressive. 

"Shooky, you loon, I told you to stop running on the counters..."

And you would cradle that cat to your chest, petting his head and waiting for him to purr and lick your nose before releasing him, satisfied that he was no longer going to be a menace. He still was though. He was a cat. You forgave Shooky every time. 

Just like how you let Jungkook get away with everything. 

Present Jungkook frowned, rolling onto his back, frowning at the ceiling. Maybe you thought he was a fuckboy and had a negative image of him. He scratched his head, tongue in cheek, thinking hard. No. You didn't seem like the type. You were never angry at him, not really, not even when he interrupted your work to mess around in bed. Exasperated, maybe, but it never seemed like you were holding an internal grudge or upset at his nonchalant actions. Ah, but he hadn’t tried to talk to you in almost a whole year. Would you think he was a dick if he tried to contact you now? He couldn’t ask you. He couldn’t ask your best friend. Seokjin-hyung still had no idea. 

Jungkook laughed to himself. 

He kind of went behind his hyung's back, whoops.

He looked to his left side, the side you used to fall asleep on when he spent the night. He could imagine it, your past self and his past self, your hair on your pillow, blankets loosely over your chest, his hand on your breasts as you slept. 

A pair of mint-green eyes glaring at him from the left side of your body. 

Jungkook remembered poking that pink nose with his index finger, the rest of his hand still on your tits. The tuxedo cat had given him a very displeased look. 

"Are you mad?"

The cat didn't reply. He was a cat. 

"You're really lucky. You get to be with her every day," Jungkook had whispered, not wanting to wake you up. "She takes good care of you, you know. I see how much she loves you."

The cat closed his eyes, resting his furry head on your arm. 

"Do you love her back?"

Maybe. Maybe not. Jungkook didn't know. He wasn't a cat. He couldn't ask in cat language. He let go of your breasts for a second to scratch the top of Shooky's head, right between those velvety ears. He began purring like a little motor. 

You continued your adventures in la la land, oblivious to this interaction. 

"I guess cats are kind of simple, huh?" Jungkook mused, smoothing out the black fur on top of that little head. "You don't have to think about much. You don't have to get a job, plan for the future, or worry about being a good husband."

His hand lowered.

"But I do."

You breathed softly against him, nuzzling closer to his body. Jungkook put his hand back on your breasts and you stilled, lost in your dreams. He breathed out, warmth against your skin. He saw the side of your lips twitch ever so slightly upwards, but maybe it was only his imagination wishing to see what he wanted.

Only a wish.

He had placed his nose by your cheek and breathed in, losing himself in dreams as well. 

-

Yoongi looked into your eyes. 

Then both of you turned to opposite sides and sneezed loudly.

"Fuck–"

"That was horrible," Yoongi hissed, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand and backing up. "Ugh, human bodies are awful."

You shook your head roughly. "Someone must be thinking about me... and you, I guess..." you mumbled, clearing your head before prodding him in the chest. "Also, last time I checked, now you're human too, so jokes on you. Hope you enjoy the suffering!" You stuck your tongue out childishly.

Yoongi gave you an annoyed look, reaching over you to grab the keyboard stand. You stiffened at his closeness, but he quickly withdrew, taking the metal stand and leaving you disappointed, but not surprised. Couldn't even pretend to be shocked.

He lifted it up so it wouldn’t drag on the floor and began to walk out of the room, ignoring you.

Classic. 

You thinned your mouth into a line and picked up the white plastic skeleton. What to do with this? Fuck it. Back into the closet it goes, along with your winter wardrobe, summer wardrobe, and other knickknacks.

Well. 

Maybe you could donate a couple things to charity. 

Like this Chinese finger trap. Why was this here?

You stuck your fingers in it. 

S... shit!

Yoongi reappeared to grab the keyboard. You opened your mouth, about to ask for help, looking up to see your cat-man standing in the doorframe of your bedroom, glaring. Very displeased and disapproving, reminding you a whole lot of a certain tuxedo fluffball.

"I'll say it again."

Huh? You gave him a confused look. 

He pointed to his pointed, velvety black ears. 

"I'm a cat, duh."

And then he walked out. Fuck him. You didn't need his help. 

-

You couldn’t get it off.

Panik!

Yes, you can. It was just a finger trap. You were smart. You graduated university. You had been a human for many more years than Min Yoongi. He had been human for two days! And besides, Yoongi was mean. You didn’t need a meanie to help you. You were a strong, independent woman who didn’t need no (cat) man.

Kalm.

You…

You…

You couldn’t get it off!!!

PANIK!!!!!!!

-

“… What are you doing?”

You were the epitome of the emoji holding back tears.

“Y… Yoongi…” you whined.

He blinked at you, holding the manual of the keyboard upside down. The keyboard was already set up on the stand, pushed up against one of the walls of your living room. He was using the cardboard box that his clothes came in – he really loved that damn box – as a makeshift seat.

“Are you dying?”

You held up your hands, pouting. The bronze dragon Chinese finger trap was still stuck on your index fingers. It had been roughly twenty, maybe thirty minutes.

Your cat-man just blinked at you and it.

“I… can’t get it off… Help…”

He raised an eyebrow and put the manual on the keyboard before walking over to you. He placed his chin in between his index finger and his thumb, frowning. Looking this way and that. The realization was slowly kicking in.

Yoongi wasn’t hiding his smirk very well.

“You know how to take it off!” you howled, smacking him in the chest.

He cackled, backing up as you repeatedly whacked him with the back of your hands, furious because it was obvious that he knew what to do and was simply not doing it to piss you off, his grin getting wider and wider, still not saying anything, this little shit, backing up into your living room as you chased him, stupid cat-man was fucking fast, dodging you easily, your joined hands and annoyed demeanor making you a bit wobbly.

“Min Yoongi, I swear I’ll–”

“You’ll what?” he teased, raising his hands in mock innocence. “Maybe I don’t know?”

You scowled at him. “You definitely know.”

He smirked.

Shit.

It was sexy and you were supposed to be mad!

You were next to the keyboard now. And a certain something. Hm. You jerked your head to the cardboard box. His eyes widened.

“You wouldn’t do such a thing.”

“I would.”

“You wouldn’t, you heathen.”

“You better fucking believe I would!”

(You’re threatening to recycle a cardboard box to force your cat-man to get you out of a metal finger trap that you put yourself in. Um, are you okay? Better yet, are both of you okay???)

He marched over to you, relenting with an angry huff, yanking up your hands.

“There’s a trick to it, of course.”

He pressed the dragon’s horns in tandem with the dragon’s beard on either side and the trap released your red fingers, making you gasp at the sudden freedom. Holy shit. You stared at your freed index fingers. You had two hands. Wow. Amazing. Show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique…

Yoongi placed the finger trap on the coffee table.

“Hmph. This thing is probably only worth three dollars.”

You poked your index fingers together, suddenly ashamed. “Sorry I threatened your box.”

Yoongi grunted, cat ears flicking back and forth in annoyance.

You poked his stomach with your index fingers. “Er… I just… wanted you to help me...”

“You weren’t going to do it anyway.”

You puffed your cheeks, narrowing your eyes, irritation flaring back. “Well, maybe I was! What were you going to do, leave me like that, unable to use my hands for the rest of my life?” You jabbed him repeatedly in the chest, driving your point home in between your snappish words. “Hmm? I need hands to do things! Important things!”

Yoongi suddenly grabbed your wrists and held them up over your head.

(Aw shit, here we go again.)

“Y-Yoongi?!”

He raised an eyebrow at you.

“What important things do you need to do with your hands?” he asked.

Oh shit.

Oh no.

Why was his vice suddenly so deep? Did he even know???

Your eyes widened, brain malfunctioning, your last two working brain cells rushing to the library to find the book titled ‘things you can do with your hands’, opening it, reading, handsy things. That was it. That was all you had at this moment. Why was it that your brain had the memory equal to the RAM of a fucking Tamagotchi every time your cat-man touched you?

Oh, yeah, that’s right, because he was a cat literally two days ago and you never thought about fucking your cat because that’s just fucking weird, but now he’s a man, so maybe it’s okay, unless it’s not, and then what does that make you? FUCKING WEIRD, THAT’S WHAT.

You yelped as your back collided to the wall. When had you walked that far? What was going on? What was life??? You were yanked back to reality as Yoongi leaned down, tilting his head, eyebrow still cocked, dark eyes darker from his fluffy black hair falling over his eyes.

“I hear you don’t always like being able to use your hands.”

Holyfuckingshitcrap.

Instantly, your cheerful brain decided to play the memory of you begging Jeon Jungkook to hold down your wrists so you couldn’t stop him and his relentless assault on your pussy, one hand grasping both your wrists and the other rubbing two fingers on your clit, thrusting his hard cock in and out of you as he abused the sensitive bundle of nerves, pinning you to your bed, panting in your face.

“You like this, noona?” Jungkook had purred.

(Respectfully.)

Voice low, deep, and sexy, driving you insane, waves of pleasure crashing into you over and over, pussy throbbing with repeated orgasm.

“F-Fuck, yes, oh fuck, Jungkook, yes… don’t s-stooop…”

Shooky had sat on the highest level of his cat tree, glaring down at you two.

Shit, shit, shit…

Yoongi leaned in even more, eyes disappearing, lips next to your ear. You felt him transfer one of your wrists to his other hand, now holding both with one hand as the other fell against your body.

“In fact, I’ve seen it firsthand,” he whispered, low, soft, dangerous.

Your brain ended the film reel in your head, giving you two mental thumbs-up and beaming happily at you as if it had done a great thing.

No, brain.

You’ve fucked me over and now I’m horny as fuck!

A needy whimper popped out of you as Yoongi’s free hand slipped between your bodies, fingers dancing deftly across the fabric of your sweatshirt, following the rhythm of your racing heart as it went down, down, too fast, sanity unable to keep up, you rising into his touch, his fingers sliding underneath the waistband of your leggings. This pair wasn’t as tight as the previous pair, but the fabric still clung to your skin just as tightly.

Wait. Is that you? Moaning?

(Yes.)

He dragged them down your hips, having to let go of the waistband for a moment to push them past the sides before resuming, you moaning in the space where he should have a human ear, but he didn’t, because Yoongi was a cat-man and his pointed furry ears were at the top of his head.

“Y… Yoongi…”

“Hm?”

His soft lips lightly pressed against your ear and you shivered. His grip on your wrists wasn’t very tight. You could break out any time. He was only loosely holding you.

“I… I am…” you quivered, voice shaking.

“I want to make you feel good.”

His murmur was so gentle, so calm, so quiet that it almost didn’t feel real. Almost a purr.

“Do you want me to make you feel good?”

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

“Yes.”

You said it.

Your panties were leaving with your leggings, shoved down mid-thigh. Your name in your ear, spoken by Min Yoongi, his body hovering over yours, black hair against your cheek, his fingers slipping between your legs, your heart slamming in your chest, thighs squeezing his hand.

“Feels nice here,” Yoongi mumbled, breath feathering on your skin. A single finger grazed your wetness and you gasped, his raspy chuckle in your ear. “Wet.”

Your eye twitched, slightly annoyed. No, really? Thanks for letting me know, it’s not like I can fucking feel it myself or anything, I absolutely need your riveting play-by-play–

“Urk!”

Yoongi scooped two fingers into your pussy and felt around inside, rubbing his fingertips against your throbbing walls.

“Ah…” He was breathing hard, pushing them in joint by joint, his own inhale shallowing. “Fuck, it’s so tight in here, are you alright?”

Oh, my fucking God, Yoongi, just fucking destroy me, I’m not a virgin!

You sucked in a shaking breath, mentally beating your inner thot back down. “F-Feels really nice, Yoongi… just… a little more…” He sank his fingers all the way to the knuckles. “Fuuuck, yes, oh, fuck yes…”

You rocked your hips into it, moaning, eyes closing, building up a pace, not really waiting for him to figure out that he could move his fingers too. It didn’t matter though, because Yoongi was highly observant and diligent, and, as much as you avoided to admit it, he had seen you get fingered hundreds of times, all over the apartment, in all sorts of embarrassing positions and with plenty of visible, graphic, high-definition detail, better than any porn video.

By – yup, you guessed it – Jeon Jungkook.

Yoongi began his own pace to match yours, thrusting his two fingers in and out until you were a hopeless mess, whining and bucking against his touch, your juices coating his hand, staring up at the ceiling with the tips of his black ears in your peripheral vision, tilted towards you to listen to every single one of your sounds. His heavy exhale invaded your head, lost in Yoongi’s rhythm that was uniquely his, only able to cry out, harder or faster, losing yourself in him, his scent, the smell of your vanilla body wash, and the rapidly strengthening sweetness between your legs rising up despite it dripping down your thighs.

“Yoongi… oh, fuck, Yoongi…”

It just felt too good, speed, strength, sound, wet messy squelches of his fingers entering you over and over, your pussy responding in kind, shuddering around them, clenching tight, hips rocking into every plunge to deepen the stroke, prolonging your own orgasm, savoring the moment.

“You feel so good…”

That wasn’t you.

That was Yoongi.

Whispering in your ear, probably not even realizing his own dirty talk.

“So fucking wet and warm,” he murmured, the rumble purring in his chest, soothing but also far too sexy. “Sucking my fingers back in, fucking me back… You really like me this much?” His lips brushed your ear, chaste kisses compared to the rough fingering of his slippery digits pushing into you repeatedly, the sounds getting louder and lewder because you were getting wetter and wetter. “Am I really that good-looking to you?”

Yoongi, are you BLIND, DEAF, or BOTH???

“Fuck yes, you are, what the fuck?” you gasped out, turning your head slightly, one of his dark brown eyes locking with yours, your jaw clenched with the effort of you holding back your orgasm to respond to his ludicrous question. “You are so fucking handsome I couldn’t even last two days of being in your presence, thirsting after you!”

You heard Yoongi chuckle, the sound resonating and teasing your ear.

“Actually, you couldn’t even last one, remember?” he drawled slyly.

His knuckle grazed your throbbing, aroused clit.

“Fuck!”

Your body twisted, whining wail torn out of you as you came, pushing your head and hands against the wall, nerves sparking and shaking, intense pleasure flooding all over your senses from holding back, breathless whimpers of Yoongi’s name, grinding into his hand. He let go of your wrists. They prickled with pins and needles of lost circulation, but you didn’t give a shit, grabbing his hand between your legs and shoving it back in you before it could retreat, riding out your orgasm, milking it for every single gram of ecstasy, cherishing every single second of another’s hand inside you, not just another but your disturbingly attractive man who was previously a cat sleeping in your lap exactly forty-eight hours ago as you innocently watched American Horror Story.

“Y… Yoongi?” you panted, orgasm petering out, trickling waves subsiding.

“Y… Yes?”

He wasn’t making fun of you. You could hear the nervousness in his voice.

“Can I kiss you?”

His face appeared in front of yours.

“Yes.”

You didn’t think twice.

You closed your eyes and leaned forward, lips on his, your satisfied sigh tickling his skin, kissing him hard, the intimacy you desired for so long, moments you spent all year trying to keep it at bay, no one to show your affection but tiny kisses on Shooky’s furry head, but now one of your hands was cupping Yoongi’s cheek, deepening the kiss, him pressing back against you, sandwiching you between the wall and himself. You let go of his hand between your legs and held both his cheeks, peppering light pecks against that lovely mouth. You wanted to kiss him over and over, so nice, so lovely, his barely-there gasps drifting on your lips with every kiss.

His fingers slipped out and touched your thigh.

You drew back, heart thudding, still holding his face, his round cheeks a little squished in your hands.

He raised his hand and put his pussy-soaked fingers in his mouth.

You jerked your hands back. “Y-Yoongi!” you exclaimed, shocked.

His pink tongue slipped around his fingers, tiny kitten licks to slurp it all up. He hummed, small smirk playing on his lips. You gawked at him.

“Y-You don’t have to–”

“You like it, don’t you?”

You shut your mouth, cheeks burning with heat.

Yoongi smirked wider, nimble tongue slipping around and around, your eyes glued to the movement, brain already dreaming up lecherous scenarios. His dark brown eyes flickered to you, eyebrows rising.

“Hmm…”

“W-What?” you snapped, trying to collect yourself. He was giving you that look again. That enigmatic expression of maybe-maybe-not. Yoongi shrugged, taking his fingers out of his mouth.

“I think we should do that again sometime.”

Your mind went blank.

Again? Now? Later?

Next Tuesday?

WHEN, MIN YOONGI, WHEN?

“… Urk?”

Those cunning dark brown orbs sparkled with mischief. “Hmm, then again, maybe we’ll do something different next time,” he pondered out loud, taunting you with the suggestive depth of his voice. He backed up, tail swaying from side to side, his grin widening, turning into an open-mouthed smirk that showed off his pretty teeth and devious expression.

His next words were the verbal equivalent of pushing your full glass of brainpower right off the table and sending it crashing to the floor.

“I have a lot of things I want to try.”

-

part v

--

masterpost

[ppersonna]

i’ll float away - myg | m

they show you how to swim, then they throw you in the deep end. what if I don’t float?  - float, the neighborhood.

↳ summary- years after the breakup, yoongi, a successful award-winning rapper with an unhealthy addiction, finds your wedding invite on Facebook.

↳ rating- explicit/18+

↳ word count- 12.6k

↳ pairing- yoongi x reader

↳ genre- idol!au, postbreakup!au, very heavy angst, smut, fluff

↳ warnings- discussions of drugs and death, penetrative sex, oral sex (m/f receiving), creampie, dirty talk, min yoongi being a mental health king

↳ a.n- hi everyone! some of you may recognize this fic.  this fic is my baby. i went through and edited it a little more and put all the chapters together to make it a one shot.  i think it flows better that way!  i hope you enjoy this.  this fic means so so so much to me and while it’s heavy, i hope you enjoy the ride it will take you on.  this fic got me back into writing and i will forever be thankful for that.

↳ this fic contains adult content, such as drug use, discussions of suicide, accidental overdose, discussions of drugs and addictions.  while this is not romanticized, or idolized, it is discussed.  please take care of yourself and proceed with caution.  18+ | discretion is advised.

‘We cordially invite you to the wedding of…’

Min Yoongi felt numb.

Yoongi always felt numb, but this felt different, wrong.  Like he was falling and had no ledge to grip.

It felt as if the world had stopped on its axis, and at any moment, gravity would turn off and he would just float, float away to nothingness.

There was no sound. Everything existed in silence.

His fingers couldn’t move. Eyes were glued to his phone screen where he stared at the wedding invite on fucking Facebook.

He wasn’t even sure why he was seeing it, considering you had blocked him on nearly every form of social media. Likely it was from your family, someone that still kept him around despite a million reasons not to.

It felt like centuries before Yoongi noticed his heartbeat again. And when it did, it hurt. It threatened to break his ribs, tear through muscle and sinew, erupt from the skin to go, get away, run run run from this.

The numbness was gone. Now all he felt was the pain.

Yoongi felt like his every cell, every fiber, was burning. Perhaps, they were mourning.

Perhaps, they were dying.

Water dripped onto his phone and it took him a few stunted breaths to realize the water was coming from him, pouring from his eyes like open wounds.

The numb silence surrounding him left him, and now he was too alert, too aware.  The sounds hit him like a tidal wave.

His body was reacting years before his brain could catch up. He could hear himself crying, choking on his sobs, and at first, it didn’t register as his own voice wailing your name.

And then emotion erupted and smashed into his psyche, nothing standing in his way to protect him.

He was heartbroken.

He had felt nothing in years, refused to face the sorrowful demons lurking around him. It was easier to hide, to run. It terrified him to think of what would happen if he allowed himself a chance to feel again. He didn’t think he would make it out alive.

Alive.

Was he? Had he been living since that day?  He wasn’t sure. He breathed, ate, drank, fucked, but he wasn’t positive he was alive at all.

Living? Sure. Existing? Yes. But alive, he couldn’t determine.

Now that he could feel every ounce of pain, his body accepted it tenfold. His throat felt angry and raw. He must be screaming—he thought. His fingers pricked with pins and needles as if they hadn’t moved an inch since the day he last touched you, refusing to believe you were gone. His arms wrapped around his own chest as his body wracked with sobs.

Yoongi hadn’t cried in years.  He hadn’t allowed himself to cry, hadn’t given permission to his mind to even think about it. Surely, once he started, he was confident he would never stop.

His mind reeled. He was only half aware of where he was, what he was doing. It wasn’t until he felt his legs moving, feet shuffling to his nightstand, that he realized what was happening.

He didn’t want to feel. His mind, in an effort to protect, to avoid, was doing the only thing Yoongi knew to do.

He grabbed the bottle of Oxy’s, poured out a handful and contemplated swallowing them.

He didn’t think he wanted to die. To be frank, he felt he was already living in purgatory. He just wanted it to stop, to end, to retreat into nothingness and stop fucking crying.

Swallowing them wouldn’t do. He would fall asleep, and likely stop breathing. Too much. He couldn’t die. He knew in his mind he would feel too guilty to die. He didn’t want death; he merely wanted respite, sanctuary.

He could continue surviving as long as his nerves dulled and frayed, mind sticky and hazy. Exist. Don’t feel.

With skilled hands and tools, Yoongi crushed some pills into a fine powder and sat on his bed to arrange the drug into 4 lines.

He always felt better this way.

He would add a line of coke had his situation been different. It was his go-to, enough to keep himself present, to do what he needed to get through the day while still feeling dissolved.  Sing, dance, record, smile for the cameras, sign for the screaming girls, plaster on that boyish smile, repeat.

He just wanted to sleep.

His body worked on auto-pilot. Yoongi was sure he was still heaving with sobs.  He could feel his chest shaking, and his hands were unsteady.

You were getting married.

One bump. Inhale. Hold it. Don’t think. Breathe.

Someone else was holding you, smiling as bright as your future. Handsome. Kind. Family man.

Alive.

Second bump. Inhale. Don’t let it go. Breathe.

He imagined your hands on someone else’s body, your voice crying out in throes of passion in someone else’s ear. Whispering someone else’s name as you succumbed to your climax.

Third bump, then straight to the fourth without stopping. It burned as it passed through his nostrils, straight to his bloodstream.

Children, a home and a dog. Family dinner. Movies, laughter. All of them without him. An outsider staring in through the window, wondering what it could feel like to be within; wondered what it was like to get what he wanted.

Yoongi leaned back on his bed, feeling the slow, syrupy wave wash over him.

‘Please, take it away’ he pleaded silently as if the drug were his doctor, his therapist. It was, in many ways. ‘I’m not strong enough.’

His eyes drooped and felt like lead. He was tired. So tired. He could feel his sobs slow, before ending in quiet little whimpers and sighs. His breathing mellowed, and he felt his chest deflate for what felt like hours before his lungs pulled in harshly more air.

He ached but felt as if someone had pulled a blanket over him, over his tortured heart and crumbling brain. No more thinking, just sleep. Can’t feel, can’t cry, don’t want to face it.  

Sleep.

Warmth.

Warmth surrounded him. It felt as if he were napping in the shady grass during summer. Warm and comforting.

You were there, in the meadow of his imagination. You were walking to him, a white dress and pretty flowers. Yoongi felt his heart tug at every artery in his body, as if begging him to stop, heel, resist, don’t go.

“Yoongi,” You called across the valley. Your dulcet voice rang through his head as if you spoke directly to his mind.

“Where are you?” You asked.

In a blink, you were in front of him. Your eyes were searching for him, even though he stood inches away.

He opened his mouth to beckon you, but no words came out. He was desperate to call out to you, embrace you. He strained to move his hand. He wanted to touch your cheek, feel real and alive again. His body would not respond.

“Yoongi, go!” You pleaded, eyes filling with tears, still seeking the male. “You can’t be here!”

His body stung, wincing at your words and aching at your distress.

“Yoongi, you need to wake up!”

The warmth faded.

It felt as if something had ripped his comfort blanket from him, exposing his body to the harsh chill of reality.

He could sense he was in a bed, and the lights were bright, so bright. He tried to open his eyes and groaned as the halogen pierced through his skull.

“Yoongi?! Oh my god, he’s waking up!” Distressed voices were too loud all around him, and he felt pokes and prods and beeping of machines.

“Ow-… loud.” His voice was rough as if he hadn’t used it in days.

Yoongi felt more acutely aware of his body as he struggled to wake up. He was so nauseated, stomach churning ferociously, even though he hadn’t eaten since… how long? He wasn’t sure. He wanted to vomit.

He wanted to sleep.

He lifted his eyes again and peered through the harsh lighting. His best friend Hoseok stood over him, along with Namjoon, his manager, and Jimin, his assistant.

Hoseok had tears in his eyes, and the sight made Yoongi wince with grief. Hobi hadn’t cried since high school when he got cut from the dance team. Something awful must have happened.

“Hobi…,” he murmured, coughing to clear his throat. “What happened? What’s going on?”

Adjusted to the light, Yoongi finally glanced at his surroundings and took stock of his environment.

He was in a hospital; he was the patient. An IV was stuck in the crook of his arm, his skin ghostly pale, enormous bags of saline attached overhead. He felt faint.

How had this happened? Did he hurt himself at practice? Was there a car accident? Yoongi could remember driving home from the dance studio but felt foggy about anything else. He didn’t even know what day it was.

His friends blanched at Yoongi’s questioning, side-eying each other.  Who would have to be the one to tell him?

Hoseok’s eyes flooded with tears again as he looked at the rapper and spoke. “Yoongi… you-… you OD’d.”

The words hit him like an oncoming train.

Overdose.  

It had never happened to him before.

He nearly died.

He had, unfortunately, been in the game long enough to watch it happen to others. Some were lucky to make it out okay, most weren’t.

It all flashed painfully in his mind as it all flooded back.

You. Marriage. OxyContin.

Inhale. Don’t breathe. Don’t feel.

“Oh, my god.”

Hoseok let out a soft sob. “Jimin found you in your bed.  Thank god you keep Narcan.”

Yoongi turned to glance at the gentle, pink-haired boy who had already done so much for him. Yoongi felt wrecked, utterly guilty for putting him in such a situation. How many times had Yoongi had to force a needle into a friend’s thigh, watch as their pinpoint pupils widened and lungs gasped for air as their synapses released?  Too many. Each time kept him awake all night and petrified for months. He regularly kept the overdose reversal drug on him, in the studio, in his home.

“Jimin,” he croaked, his own eyes filling with tears. “I’m s-so fucking sorry.”

Jimin couldn’t hold back the tears in his eyes anymore. “It’s okay, Yoongs.” Jimin’s voice was quiet, trembling.

Yoongi felt the tears slip down his cheeks at his best friends and team. He had put so much on them. So much.

“You saved my life, Jimin.” Yoongi’s quiet voice made the assistant cry more.

“You’d do it for me.” He whispered through tears as he pushed forward and fell into Yoongi’s chest, holding the rapper close. “Let’s just… get better, y-yeah?”

The rapper’s heart seized up.

Better.

What was better?  Surely, Jimin meant rehab. Sobriety. Meetings and sponsors.

To Yoongi, it meant feeling. It screamed hurting. It oozed heartbreak.

When Yoongi had been introduced to drugs at the beginning of his rap career, it had been fun and sexy. They used coke at the hottest parties, weed at all the clubs, acid at the raves. Yoongi sampled each like a buffet, found out which made him feel lightheaded and loose, which made him dizzy, which made him ache.

The drugs led to the girls. So many women begging for him. The cloudy haze of his mind found it hard to resist, even knowing you were still his, still waiting for him as you and he promised with thin silver bands symbolizing your shared devotion and dedication.

Therefore, drugs led to regret.

He left you. Days before your wedding. He exposed all of his misdeeds, his infidelity, his vices. He had promised you after he was famous, rich, well known that he would come back to you, start a family with you.

Instead, he turned away and left.

It was easier to avoid it all and leave; he rationalized. Seeing your heartbreak had been his undoing.

After the breakup, Yoongi self-medicated daily. He stuck with opiates and cocaine, finding it just the right combination to get him pleasantly numb from the guilt and loss of you while giving him the euphoric high he needed as a rising star rapper.

He had tried to keep it to himself as long as he could. Hoseok knew about the recreational use but hadn’t realized the extent of the problem until he found Yoongi too high to function, slumped in a chair in the recording studio.

Hoseok told Namjoon, his manager, who interrogated Yoongi’s assistant, Jimin. None had known quite how far Yoongi had spiraled down. And none had an idea to pull him out.

Yoongi didn’t want to go to rehab. He didn’t want the forced positivity. Group therapy. Social workers discussing ‘goals’ and ‘treatment plans’. He would risk his reputation. He was now a top-earning Grammy-winning artist. He was fucking Agust D. He couldn’t be just another celebrity who ended up in rehab. It would ruin everything he built.  He could do it himself, fix his problems alone as he always had.

“Yeah.” Yoongi croaked to his assistant. “I’ll get better.” His smile was weak, and probably unconvincing to the three men who knew him best.

As Namjoon opened his mouth to speak, a knock sounded at the door of his room. Yoongi’s brow furrowed in confusion. He did not know who it could be, the three people he interacted with most already present. His accountant? Wouldn’t seem likely. A fan? Definitely unlikely, Jimin and Namjoon had likely taken major strides to ensure his privacy and ask the hospital to provide security. Was it… you? Yoongi stopped breathing at the thought.

Namjoon strode to the door and opened it a crack, peering out. Yoongi couldn’t see who the manager was whispering too, but moments later watched as the door swung open.

It wasn’t you. He felt relief. He wouldn’t have been able to look at you. But the guest was only slightly better.  

Your mother.

The matronly woman’s eyes were full of tears. Yoongi’s mother had been your mother’s best friend from childhood, to the very day Yoongi’s mother passed away from breast cancer. Yoongi had been 17, void of any motherly contact at such an impressionable age.

Your mother had stepped in, no doubt or worry in her mind about caring for the teen. He was already such good friends with you and she even encouraged and supported the underlying feelings the two had for each other. Yoongi became family and nearly a son-in-law.  

Even after the breakup, after breaking your heart and leaving you at the altar, your mom still kept in contact with him. She still reached out, celebrated his achievements and ensured he was well. She was the picture of forgiveness and compassion.

Yoongi crumbled at the sight of her, suddenly feeling like a teenager again, and sobbed as she moved forward quickly to embrace him.  Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jimin stepped outside to allow privacy and Yoongi clung to the only mother figure he had.

“I’m sorry. I’m so s-sorry.” He bawled. 

He didn’t know exactly what he was apologizing for. For hurting you? For avoiding her and the entire realm of anything concerning you? For almost killing himself? Maybe a mix of it all.  

His chest hurt, god it hurt so bad. It felt as if all ribs snapped from the crushing weight of his sorrow and guilt.  

Her hand smoothed his hair, mint-colored now, and held his face to her neck and cried with him.

“Shh,” She soothed. “It’s okay, little lion.”

Yoongi cried harder at the childhood nickname from his deceased mother that followed him to adulthood with the woman holding him.

Yoongi couldn’t stop crying. It wouldn’t end. It felt like an endless river, a torrential storm that never passed. He felt raw, ripped from the inside out.

“You’re alive, Yoongi.” She whispered and kissed his forehead. “You’re still here.  I love you.”

He wasn’t sure what he had done in a past life to deserve this kindness and unconditional love. Yoongi knew he didn’t deserve it, especially not from the mother of the girl he loved and broke completely. Not from the woman who he promised to make a grandmother, only to turn away and leave destruction in his wake.

“She’s getting married,” He choked out, the pain in his chest overwhelming him at his own words, so consuming he felt devoid of air. He gasped, struggling to breathe at all.  “T-that should be me.”

She sensed this and squeezed her eyes tighter, hugging the boy closer to her as sobs wrecked his tired, thin body.

“I know, love.” She whispered. “I know.”  She had no words to quell the heartbreak, just as she had many years ago when you laid across her lap, crying over the boy you loved completely.  Words wouldn’t fix the wounds.  She could only provide comfort; a band-aid on a bullet hole.

Yoongi allowed himself to sob, fully cry until he felt he might pass out. She held him, rocked him like a child, whispered words of comfort as his breathing eventually slowed and even out. His sobs turned to sniffles, and though he stopped crying, his eyes remained glassy and broken.

He had stopped crying; he noticed.  The tears had stopped flowing, the thick pleas escaping his throat dried. But he hadn’t stopped the hurt. It felt as though the hurt was a gaping, infected, open sore that would never heal. He could hide it from the world, cover it up for none to see, but he couldn’t ignore the sting or the pain with every breath.

Yoongi steeled himself to look into the eyes of his comforter, preparing himself for the look of pity or disappointment in her look.

He bit back another cry as he only found compassion, comfort and unconditional love in her gaze. He didn’t deserve her.

“Please, don’t tell her,” he pleaded. “I can’t…,” he gulped. “I can’t let her know about this.”

She grimaced.  “I’m afraid it’s too late for that.” She sighed, stroking her fingers through his mint colored hair. “She wanted to come to see you, too.”  Yoongi groaned and felt his heart clench. “I told her it wasn’t the best idea.” She murmured.  Yoongi was suddenly comforted and struck by how very much he did not deserve the grace of this woman.

“Fuck,” he sighed. “She thought I was clean. That was the last thing I told her.”

He recalled the last time you two had spoken when he promised to get clean. Instead, he had left and spent the next few years in a haze.

“I think you should talk to her,” she admitted. “Not now. Not until you feel better, but she was distraught at the news.”

The idea of seeing you again plowed through him like a freight train.

“Sure,” he whispered. He couldn’t understand why you’d be concerned. You had swung choice words at him as he left, insults he deserved. “Maybe.”

Yoongi spent more time with his mother figure, comforting him and whispering sweet revelations and promises to keep in touch before his doctor interrupted and encouraged Yoongi to get rest without distraction.

Soon enough, he was alone again. Stuck in the too bright, too white, sterile room he had landed himself in because of his grief.

His attention diverted between the discomfort of his withdrawal and the gaping wound of having to see you again.

Even if he made it out sober, withdrawal free, he wasn’t sure he would make it out for long.

He tried to stay away, stay clean. He managed for a few weeks, immersing himself in writing an album and using his creative expression to medicate his wounds.  And it worked.

Until it didn’t.

It started with the marijuana. He couldn’t resist the way it helped soothe everything. Not just the pain, but the world around him. He could sink into his bed, write away his feelings and worries, and relish in the sensation of absolutely nothing.

That lasted for a few weeks. He’d try to smoke every day, but the darkness continued to creep up, wrapping around his throat like a vice.

He demanded his schedule to get busier, to get tighter, despite the warnings from Namjoon. He insisted on shows, award dinners, radio interviews, everything. If he was busy, he wouldn’t think about you. He could survive another day if you weren’t the first thing on his mind.

That’s when the cocaine started again.

It helped him muster the energy he needed to plaster on Agust D, rapper extraordinaire. He could sing, rap, dance, wink at the girls, sign the scantily clad flesh, throw back a shot of vodka and charm the press.

A few lines of coke every few hours pushed him forward, and towards his end.

But he was handling it. Wasn’t he? Wasn’t he working, being successful, making money?  He was rich. He was famous. He was beloved.  He was shining.

Did it even fucking matter?

The shine made his shadow darker. It made his fall from grace longer, more painful.

It didn’t fucking matter.

Yoongi found himself at the corner of the park, the same one you two had grown up playing in. It was in the center of the neighborhood you two lived.  It was where he first chased you around the swings, laughed with you over comics at the picnic table, and fucked you for the first time in the parking lot in the backseat of his car.

He couldn’t stop the memories rolling over him like a boulder, crushing his lungs and threatening to snap his bones into nothing more than dust.

It stunted his breath. He felt as if pulling in a full intake of air was impossible.

He finally sucked up his faux courage and scheduled a time to meet you here at this park. The park that held such significance to both of you.

If he thought it was hard to breathe at the memories of the park, it was even worse when you walked towards him, and planted your feet in front of him.

There was nothing. Stillness. Absolute silence as you both felt as if the barometric pressure dropped around your vicinity. A vacuum. Nothing but you two, and so much hurt it was palpable.

“Y-You’re getting married-..” Yoongi broke the silence, voice dry and quiet. He wanted to say more, but couldn’t. He couldn’t look anywhere but his feet.  Didn’t want to see a ring around your finger that wasn’t from him.

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes. “Yeah, I am.”

Yoongi couldn’t look at you, couldn’t look you in your eyes.  It was too much. Too painful. Those eyes used to look at him with so much love, so much pride. He couldn’t bear to see what you held in them now.

“Great, that is great,” his voice was flat.  “Happy for you.  I hope it goes well.”

You cringed and turned your face up to stare at the mint-haired boy. The man of your dreams. The one who took so much and left you with nothing.

“Hoseok told me what happened.”

Yoongi closed his eyes, as if blocking out the words.  Fuck. Of course. You and Hoseok were still close; it was bound to happen.

His world now was so dark, so ugly. Yoongi couldn’t bear ruining you any more. You had been the iron rod and lamplight that led him through the darkness. You were his lifeline. Without you, all stability, all light, gone.

“Yeah,” was all he could muster, flickering up to look at you. You were staring back, eyes full of unshed tears.

Yoongi inhaled sharply, feeling each tear from your eyes as a knife to his chest. He hadn’t seen your eyes in so long. Staring at you was like leaving a hand on a burning stove.

“Are you still using?” You asked. Your words weren’t callous or cruel. You asked to gather information, to determine an opinion, not to pass judgement. Yoongi knew you meant no harm and found himself powerless to lie to you, anyway.

“Just…,” he let out a puff of air anxiously.  “Yeah, sort of. Weed and some coke, I guess. Nothing else.” He rubbed his neck anxiously.

Your lips set in a line, and your eyes flicked back down, sadness washing over your features. He could feel it rolling off of you in waves, lumps building in his throat.

“I miss you,” He admitted, words tumbling out before he could catch himself. “So fucking much.  I know this isn’t fair, and I know that I fucked up. I just miss you more than anything else in the world.”

At first, you laughed.  Yoongi felt as if someone had punched him.

Then you cried. Yoongi felt as if he had been shot, point blank in the chest.

“You’re right, Yoongi. It isn’t fair,” You walked closer to him, a mix of grief and anger. “You ruined my fucking life.”

You pushed against his shoulder. “You left me at the fucking altar.  You cheated on me.” The tears came faster down your cheeks. “Then, you almost fucking died. And my mom won’t stop crying. And I can’t stop crying, I fucking cry my eyes out because my wedding is in 2 months and I realize I will never get over you.”

Yoongi felt another shot, execution style, to the head. He couldn’t speak and watched your anger, accepting the jabs to his chest.

“I thought I was happy, Yoongi. I really thought I would get the wedding and life I wanted so badly, and you took it away from me. Twice!” You were sobbing, pushed even closer against him. “You almost fucking dying made me realize I don’t want that life with him.  I want it with you, you fucking inconsiderate asshole!”

Yoongi couldn’t bring himself to speak. Any elation he might have had about hearing your revelation was quickly quelled by the fire of your anguish.  

“And, now you’re still using and there’s no way I could even think about seeing you high. I love you so much and it fucking hurts me knowing you do that to yourself, accepting no sort of fucking help. You can’t do it all yourself, Min Yoongi, no matter how fucking great you think you are!”

He couldn’t reply. He had no words, nothing of value to add. You were right. He couldn’t find a single argument. Your body pressed so close to him and his body ached. It yearned to close the distance and feel your shape against his, slotting together so easily as you always had. It was magnetic. He could almost weep at how badly he needed to hold you, to feel you, to touch you again.

You watched him, unable to stop the flow of tears you promised you would never shed for him again. “Look at me.” You asked quietly.

Yoongi’s own red-rimmed eyes lifted to yours. He looked so broken. So raw. He was crying, years of built up sorrow pouring down his pale cheeks.

You closed the distance and pushed together your bodies, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your face against his neck. He smelled as he always did. Dove shampoo, Old Spice, laundry detergent. You knew Yoongi nearly down to his DNA.

You lifted your face level to his and pressed a kiss to his lips. He felt no heat in the kiss, no desire.

It felt final, resolute.

“Goodbye, Yoongi.” You whispered, pressing your forehead to his.

And you turned. And you left.

And another piece of Yoongi’s broken heart slipped away with you.

Yoongi avoided any semblance of routine. He couldn’t focus. He couldn’t feel anything but ache. He saw you in everything he did.

He tried to stay away from the drugs.  He sincerely did. He knew the risks. He knew he had nearly died.

But he could not bear to take the pain anymore. He could not continue fighting his very breath, forcing himself to breathe even though it hurt too much.

He was still standing on the outside of your world, so far away from you. It was so cold. He didn’t remember what warmth was. He didn’t think he deserved to remember, either.

It was easy to score a baggie of smack.  Yoongi had plenty of money and connections. But Yoongi had never done heroin intravenously. He had smoked it with his old dealer, the first man he ever had to revive with Narcan. IV use scared him. But it was what he could get a hold of, and what he needed.

Tie off. Fill up. Inject. Hold it. Breathe. Don’t feel. Release.

It washed over him quickly, the same fuzzy warmth that started at his toes and slithered up to his head. It felt headier than snorting it, less of a slow rush, more of an instant dive into warmth. Comfort.

The knot in his stomach loosened. Yoongi relaxed against his pillows and inhaled deeply before exhaling. He could breathe again.

He was so sleepy. So tired. He could sleep again without the torment of his dreams. He could live again without feeling his shattered heart. No hurt. Only comfort.

His only love.

He wasn’t sure how long he slept for. He didn’t dream. He couldn’t recall if five minutes had passed or five days. His head pounded him back to reality as he woke, and he realized it was dark outside his bedroom.

His phone was still on his bedside table. He checked it and groaned. It was the next day, next evening really. He had slept over 24 hours. He felt like shit.

The nausea and the chills came soon after. He felt as if he was burning. He couldn’t stop puking, even with minimal content in his stomach to begin with. Sips of water would come back up. His fever got worse. He became so drenched in sweat he stripped his clothes and sat in a bath, hoping to sweat the fever out. It chilled him to the bone.  He was so hot, and so fucking cold at the same time.

Yoongi cried as he held himself in the tub. He was alone. He was withdrawing. He wanted more, god he wanted to sleep and feel good again, didn’t want the sickness or the grief. It was so much. So fucking much.

His fingers danced along his phone, dialing your number out of habit, out of a need to hear you.

“Why are you calling me, Yoongi?” Your voice, flat, asked through the phone.

Yoongi croaked. His voice was hoarse due to disuse for over a day. “I fucked up, baby.”

Your heart clenched at the sound of the pet name. It had been so long. God, you had missed it so much. You missed him. You fucking hated him for it.

“Are you okay?” You asked, concern edging out the anger at his call.

“No,” he sighed, shivering and holding his knees to his chest. “I sh-shot up.”

He could not stop the whimper leaving his mouth. “I’m withdrawing. I w-want to keep using it, but I can’t!” Yoongi sobbed, openly weeping at the physical and emotional pain. “I’ll fucking die again. I don’t want to die. I love you.”

Tears poured down your face, heartbroken at his words and actions.

“Yoongi, where are you?”

Yoongi quickly replied. “I’m at home, in the bathtub. The front door is locked,” He whispered.  “I don’t think I can stand.”

“I still uh… have my key.” You admitted. Yoongi felt his heart clench, unsure of what to make of that idea.

Yoongi remained in the bathtub, holding himself and shivering violently when you arrived on scene. Your heart, already so broken, shattered at the impact of seeing the love of your life and the cause of your heartbreak, suffering.

“Fuck,” you whispered, quickly grabbing towels and kneeling by the tub at his side. “Yoongs, let’s get you dry, okay? Can you stand with me?” You grasped his clammy arms and allowed him to use your weight to balance himself on shaky legs.

You were so gentle. So compassionate. Yoongi felt his resolve breaking, wanting nothing but to wrap you up and never let you go again, tell your future husband to fuck off and allow the rapper to take his rightful place.

With your help, Yoongi stood and allowed himself to be dried. He normally would have felt the stirrings of arousal at such an intimate gesture, but all he felt now was unbridled affection and overpowering guilt.

You led Yoongi to his bed, settling him on the soft surface while you moved to dig through his drawers for clothes.

“Don’t make me go to the hospital,” he pleaded softly.  You stole a look back at him, at his words.  

“Yoongi, you need to see someone.  You’re not okay.”

He shook his head. “No, I’m… I’ll be okay.  I’ve gone through the worst of it already.” He rubbed at his sweaty forehead. “Will you just stay with me? I’m so cold.” He shivered.

You glanced at the man on the bed.  He was thin, so sickly thin.  While he had always maintained a lean physique, it looked as if the rapper hadn’t eaten in weeks.  His skin was sallow, paper white with bruises on his arms and legs that seemed onyx against his alabaster skin.

You weren’t sure you could argue with him, but he definitely appeared less ill for wear now that he was out of the bath and dry.

“Yoongs,…” you breathed, dropping the clothing in your hands. “Let me hold you.”  All reservations were held back. The anger dissipated. You couldn’t fight the need to help him, to nurture and hold him.

You moved to tear your thick jacket off your frame and toe out of your shoes before making towards the bed.  Together, you took hands and slid gently in between his sheets.  Yoongi’s body was trembling.  He didn’t know if it was from the withdrawal or his proximity to you.

You pulled the blanket up and over your bodies, pressing yours against his thin body. His skin was freezing, forcing out a shiver of your own.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, forehead leaning to press against yours. You didn’t reply, not sure you’d be able to form words.

You laid in a long, comfortable silence as your warm hands rubbed along Yoongi’s arms and back, willing the blood vessels in his body to expand and return his heat. His breathing was even now, but occasionally let out a groan.  He couldn’t tell if it was a groan of pain, or of pleasure. Your hands on his skin felt like heaven and hell, wrapped in one.  

Everything he loved and lost in one package.

Bringing him to life and sentencing him to death.

“I love you,” his voice was shaky, quiet.  

You nodded, tears now easily slipping past your cheeks. “I love you too.”  There was no use denying it. It was clear in the way you ran to him, in the way you held him tightly, as if he would disappear without you pressed up against him.

His lips found yours easily, as if magnetized.  The kiss was slow, gentle.  You felt your own tears slide down your cheeks and meet his own.  Yoongi couldn’t help them, couldn’t help the simultaneous ache and burn of your touch again.

His hand slid to rest on your hip, underneath your shirt, pulling you even closer.  The kiss deepened, tongues swirling in each other’s mouth, searching for each other in the only place you knew.

It didn’t take long for your shirt to come off, and Yoongi’s hands to slide down your hips to push at your jeans.  This wasn’t passionate or steamy.  It was broken, desperately seeking comfort in the solace of each other.  

Once your clothing laid strewn across the floor, Yoongi wrapped his thin arms around your waist, pulling you as close to him as he could.  He could feel your breasts press up against his chest and was positive you could feel his hardness pressing into your thighs.  

He didn’t want to fuck you.  He wanted to love you, to feel you again. He wanted to hide inside you. He wanted the security that being buried deep within you once gave him.  He wanted to feel alive, feel you. It seemed he could no longer separate the difference.

His tears wouldn’t stop flowing, neither would yours.  

There was no foreplay, no teasing or edging.  Yoongi laid you back against the pillows and kissed at your tears, eyes boring into yours to seek consent.  You nodded, opening up your legs as a response. You needed to feel him too, fill the ache inside of you that widened each day without him. Yoongi lined himself up and slid into the familiar, inviting heat.

You muffled a cry, thrilled at the feeling of him filling you completely.  You missed him.  You loved him.  You hated him. You never felt more complete.  The thought made you cry more, both in pleasure and in sorrow.  The man bringing you so much pleasure had wrought so much sadness and pain.

Yoongi kept a slow pace, uncaring about orgasms or getting off.  His desire to be within you was void of sensuality at this point.  Yoongi only wanted to be within you, to feel safe, to feel anything again.  He felt alive.  

Alive.

His thrusting moved quicker as your lips met and danced together, pouring out emotion through unspoken gestures. He didn’t have the words, couldn’t tell you every single thought ran through his brain.  He hoped he could convey them to you here, in each roll of his hips.

Yoongi felt his release quickly approaching, unsure of how to proceed. He wasn’t sure what the moral code for cumming inside your ex fiancé was. He groaned as he kissed you.

“I love you, I’m close.  Where…?” He hoped you would understand his broken question.

You sighed with relief, feeling yours coming quickly too. While there had been no fire, no passion, the unadulterated emotion coursing between the two of you was enough to bring you close to completion.

“Inside me, please,” you sniffed, gasping at the tendrils of orgasm beginning to wrap around you.

Yoongi pressed his face against your neck, leaving salty kisses as he felt your channel pulse around him in completion, triggering his own end. He momentarily thrilled at his cum coating your cunt again, but the thought quickly left him.  Not that kind of night, nor that kind of fucking. Your moans were quiet, and he merely breathed a soft sigh into your neck.

It only took a moment for the reality of it all to hit you.

You had just fucked your ex. Who was in the middle of a withdrawal. While you were engaged to another man.  Who you had no desire to ever see again.

Fuck.

Yoongi pulled himself out of you, but pressed you close against him. Despite the agony in his head and his stomach from the pain of withdrawing, he felt secure again. He felt, for a minute, like he was finally on the inside of his dream, no longer looking in from the outside.

It was quickly wrenched away as you slithered out from under him, your tears quickening.

“I need to go,” you murmured. “I can’t believe I-we…,” you shook your head as you pulled your clothes on quickly. “I’m engaged.”

Yoongi winced and sat up as he watched you. “Yeah,” he felt his own tears slip down his cheeks. “I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“You’re always sorry, Yoongi,” you snapped. It felt like a dagger to his heart.

He was. Always so sorry. He rarely felt anything other than sorry.

You felt guilty at the look that crossed his features.  Fuck.  

“I’ll-… I’ll call Hoseok to come check on you. Okay?”

Yoongi remained solid and didn’t move, only tracked you with his eyes as you shoved yourself into your coat and cried as you put on your shoes.

“Goodbye, Yoongi,” you whispered. He wondered if it was the last time he’d see you.

The door closed; all that was left of his weak heart left with you.

Fuck.

Sorry. Always so sorry.

Yoongi mulled that phrase through his mind since you left.

He was sure at this point sorrow and grief fueled his body alone.

He stopped caring, only subsisted on weed and whatever cans of food he found in his kitchen, or what Jimin would leave out for him.  He stopped caring. The minuscule amount of care inside him evaporated.

He felt like he was wandering an empty, dark pathway with no light. No end in sight.

He hid from the world, stopped all the press conferences, the interviews, the shows. He dropped out of a three-month tour of Europe, one that would have brought him significant money and status. He wasn’t sure he could even perform anymore, drugs or not.

The tabloids started running about him then, too. Tales of drug addiction, of his deep and dark secrets he tried to keep away. They spun false tales of illicit sex, arrests, gang connections, violence. His career was on the precipice of crumbling around him.

He shined, he burned bright and fast.  

Now, he was ashes on the ground.

He burned through his money, ate nothing but packaged ramen and beer, and cried himself to sleep at night.

His life was fucking pathetic.

Namjoon avoided him, only talking to him about business-related concerns and the press. Jimin remained steadfast and loyal, constantly checking in, but only looked at him with pity and sadness.  Hoseok refused to spend time with him, citing his concerns about watching his best friend die in front of him.

Losing everything eventually broke him.

He stayed up all night, every night, so drugged out his mind, and cried. He looked at old pictures of you and him, of his best friends, memories of a time much easier and happier.

He had lost all of it.

For something that was going to fucking kill him.

He let you get away. He lost his friends. All for trying to be rich and famous. And that was quickly slipping through his fingers too.

It was time to stop. It was time to stop fucking around.

It was time to end it all.

With one last jab of the needle, Yoongi slid away.

Far, far away.

Rehab wasn’t as bad as Yoongi had painted it out to be.

There were group meetings, individual therapy, social workers and their treatment goals.  There was crying.  There was pain, so much it felt overwhelming. There were the withdrawals, likely the worst aspect of it all. The nausea, the fever, the stomach churning.  He wanted so badly to end it, just use one more time to stop being sick.

But there he found healing. He found each time he cried, a piece of his heart built back up, sturdier this time.  Each dry heave of sickness brought him one step closer to never feeling it again.

He found camaraderie.  He found wellness. He found his muse and his passion again.

He met new friends, Taehyung and Jungkook, both fellow opioid addicts. Through them, they formed a bond of sobriety and perseverance. They held each other accountable and held each other close through their subsequent relapses and returns to rehab.

Yoongi started working out, started putting weight back on in places it was meant to be: his cheeks, his arms and thighs, around his ribs. Jungkook was a personal trainer and guided him through personalized workouts and a nutrition plan. Yoongi found peace in each 60 minute cardio or weight-lifting session with his new best friend.  He realized he could pour out all his pent-up emotions through his sweat, his hard work.

Taehyung was an artist, a phenomenally gifted and talented man. Yoongi felt inspired by him. Yoongi wrote and wrote. He wrote songs, poems, stories, rap lines. He found that what he couldn’t release physically through his training, he could release through his gift of creative writing.

Yoongi released his album from rehab, with the help of Namjoon. He merely titled it ‘goodbye’. Taehyung’s creative muse helped him finish the lyrics to all his songs. Yoongi felt cathartic, releasing his last record, an ode to Agust D and a goodbye to the live fast, die young lifestyle he no longer wished to partake of.

Yoongi’s therapist, Kim Seokjin, likely made the biggest impact on him.  Yoongi learned about love, actual love. Loving yourself, respecting yourself, allowing yourself to feel the entire scope and range of emotions.

It was amid a therapy session with Jin that Yoongi decided he wanted to be a therapist.

Yoongi stepped out of the spotlight, out of the lifestyle of the rich and famous, and Yoongi returned to school in the fall for his Master’s in Social Work, with Jungkook at his side working towards a degree in exercise science and Taehyung working towards a Master’s in Fine Arts.  

Yoongi followed the Narcotics Anonymous guidelines to a T.  He admitted to himself his faults, his addiction.  He attended all meetings, called his sponsor regularly and in emergency situations where the need to use was so overpowering he felt he might give in.  He apologized to Hoseok, Namjoon, and Jimin. It was important to him to mend those relationships. He felt it was important to right the wrongs he brought upon them over the last five years.

He apologized to your mother.  He visited her weekly, checking in on her and surprising her with her favorite foods and flowers.  She bought 6 copies of his newest album, and together they wept over the lyrics, the intricately weaved storyline, and the stunning change the boy made.

She attended his graduation, too. She cried when Yoongi slid the tassel on his cap to the right, to the left. Yoongi felt a rush that drugs never compared to as he shook the hand of the president of his university and held that thick roll of paper.

He had accomplished something. He had done something; he had worked through incredible odds stacked against him and achieved it. No longer was Yoongi content with watching his life slip by in a haze.

Yoongi became a therapist, a social worker. The same people he thought would drag him down and ruin his career and reputation were the same people who lifted him out of his darkest place.

Min Yoongi, social worker.

He liked that better than Agust D, dead rapper, anyway.

Yoongi was leaving work, a group home for adolescent men suffering from addiction, when he ran into you.

His horn-rimmed glasses framed his face and newly bleached blonde hair fell around his forehead.

His heart stuttered at the sight of you. It all came rushing back.

Pain. Sadness. Drugs. Addiction.

You smiled at him, surprised to see him looking so healthy.  You had heard all about his progress from your mother, eagerness and pride in her voice. But seeing him was as if walking into another dimension.  He looked fit, strong, healthy, intelligent. Frankly, he looked sexy.

“Hi,” you meekly croaked, a blush floating to your cheeks at the thought of finding your ex so dashing.

“Hi,” he replied, a soft smile filling his lips as he practiced his mindfulness to allow the self-sabotaging thoughts to work themselves out, replaced with hopeful and insightful ones.  Min Yoongi wasn’t afraid to feel anymore.

He wanted to talk to you. He wanted to ask you out. He wanted to kiss you. He wanted to fuck you.

He felt mildly guilty about wanting to fuck another man’s wife, but shook the thought away. He would settle for talking. You may have been his ex fiancé, but you were also his childhood best friend. He craved to just settle back into that role, alone.

“Do-…” he faltered for a moment, then swallowed harshly and summoned courage. “Do you wanna grab a coffee with me? I was just headed to get one.” He pulled his backpack tighter to his back, unable to part with the bag that guided him through school and into a real-life job.

You nodded, finding it hard to speak. “Yes.”

Yoongi couldn’t stop staring at you. You looked so beautiful, so different while still so similar. Your hair was longer, healthier. Your clothes fit well to your body, accentuating your curves and sliding down elegantly and conservatively. Your eyes glistened with something. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was desire.

“I heard you’re a therapist now,” you murmured as you clutched the hot matcha latte in your hands, sitting across the tiny wood table from the ex-rapper.

Yoongi blushed and nodded. “Yeah, I am.” You didn’t miss the way his voice sounded so confident, so proud.  “I work at a group home for young men with substance abuse addictions.” He smiled, poised and content. The pride clear on his face had never been there when he was a musician.  

You couldn’t help the hard beat of your heart. “Wow,” you sighed. “That’s incredible, Yoongs. Mom said she’s proud of you,” you gulped.  “I’m proud of you, too.”

Yoongi took a moment to nod graciously, feeling a swell within him.  You were proud.  Of him.

“How’s errr…” he faltered, not remembering the name of your fiancé, or husband now, he supposed. “Your husband?”

You blanched at the words. “Oh, we, umm, didn’t get married. It didn’t work out.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

You looked at the blonde boy, a smile reappearing on your features.

“It’s okay.  It was for the best,” you surmised. “Everything happens for a reason.”

Yoongi caught the look you sent and smiled. “You’re right.”

You two fell into easy conversation.  He told you all about his new best friends from rehab, Jungkook and Taehyung, and how seamlessly they fit into the friendships he already had.  He discussed stories of their escapades in graduate school and how Namjoon, his manager, quickly fell in love with Seokjin, his therapist, and how Yoongi had played matchmaker for the couple. He discussed concepts he learned in therapy, in school, and now in his practice as a therapist.

You were enthralled and captivated. You were so unabashedly in love with Yoongi and realized you had never stopped.

“Care if I walk you home?” He asked, standing suddenly as he finished his chai, holding out his hand.

Your heart leaped, and you nodded, chugging down the rest of your drink and slipping your hand into his.  He felt warm, strong. So much different from the pale, thin, clammy man you slept with years ago as he suffered through withdrawal.  

This wasn’t the Yoongi of your childhood, who wanted to be famous. This wasn’t the Yoongi who broke your heart, who wanted to hide away in his substances.  This was a culmination of all the Yoongi’s he had been and became. A strong, broken, healed, confident, loving man.

“I would love that.”

This was the Yoongi you were meant to be with. The man who you loved more than life itself.

Yoongi had courted you again since that initial coffee date. He sent flowers to your workplace, asked you out to lunch, kept things simple, proper and conservative.  Yoongi was in this now, for the long haul, and wanted to prove his devotion to you.

While in rehab, they had forced Yoongi to face the fact that everything he did in relation to you was self-sabotaging, self-deprecating; a self-defeating prophecy. Facing that was his greatest struggle through his entire treatment process. He fought against it, even relapsed a few times because of it, and refused to accept that as a possibility.

Yoongi, with the help of Seokjin and his new friends, found that a world that didn’t revolve around you was finally a world he could live in, possibly thrive in. While you could exist in his world, making you his sole singular reason for breathing was dangerous. In that mindset, being without you meant dying.

Yoongi had finally lived for himself.  Not for the money, the fame., the status, the reputation, or even you.  Yoongi loved himself, as he was.  Broken and healing.  Addicted and sober.  Yoongi lived for Min Yoongi, alone.

When he started seeing you again, he reached out to Seokjin. He was terrified that diving back in to you would be his undoing. Seokjin, in all his wisdom, spoke words of comfort.

“She is not your entire world, Yoongi. You are your entire world,” he spoke gently through the phone. “She can be part of your world, an enormous part of your world, but she cannot be the entirety.  Life does not stop without her. Life is better with her, but does not end without her.”

Yoongi had been so obsessed with the idea of never having you, that he lost you.  He stopped loving himself, stopped caring about anything but you and the pain he caused you.

“You hurt her, yes. But, it appears she is ready to forgive you now. Are you ready to forgive yourself and allow yourself to be vulnerable?” He asked the blonde boy.

Yoongi rolled the idea through his mind. “Yeah, I think I am.”

“You are allowed to love and be loved by who you want, Yoongi, but do not make your entire existence rely on that. Loving yourself will extend into all other relationships. And do not allow yourself to be consumed with the mistakes you made a long time ago. Focus on what you can do today. Living in the past causes us the most pain.  Do not run from the pain, allow it to sit within you and give yourself permission to hurt, and then move through it.”

Yoongi allowed it all. Every emotion, every feeling. He cried.  Jesus, he cried so much.  He remembered that he used to think if he started crying he would never stop.

It was true, mostly.

But what Yoongi didn’t know was that within all the crying, all the pain, was a high unmatched by any substance that could be snorted or injected or smoked.  

Yoongi no longer hid himself from feeling the darkness, but he allowed himself to remain in it until the light came back. And it came back ten thousand times stronger.

Yoongi felt encouraged to continue seeing you and progressed in his career and treatment. He took you on dinner dates, movie dates, picnics and theme parks.  The only reservation was the lack of physical intimacy.  He would hold your hand, kiss you, rub your back, but he always left your apartment without lingering. He wanted you to get to know him again, all of him, before he took that step. He wanted to do this right.

It was at the most recent date where things changed. It was a relaxing picnic in the park, the two of you laid in the soft sun-warmed grass, your head resting on his chest.

Yoongi felt content at the feeling of holding you against him. He thought of the dream he had when he was overdosing, nearly dying. Being so warm in the valley and meadows of his imagination, brain synapses firing off as his body shut down. You had been there, pretty white dress, telling him to go back, to wake up.

He admitted this to you, spoke out what he had told no one before. While he knows Jimin, with the help of Narcan, saved you, his subconscious attributed his revival to you.

“I’m in love with you, Yoongi,” you admitted, gently and easily with tears clouding your eyes, as you both watched the clouds roll by.  

Neither of you had uttered those words since you held him in your arms and within you as he came down from his high so long ago.

Yoongi let the words soak over him. If he thought drugs had been like a warm blanket wrapping him up, this was like an absolute inferno of satisfaction and comfort.

The arm he wrapped around your shoulder pulled you close.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

Yoongi pressed you up against his wall, lips crashing into yours as his hands desperately sought the skin of your waist.  

After the picnic, Yoongi suggested taking you back to his place for a movie. The charged energy in his car on the way there spoke volumes, knowing you wouldn’t be watching a movie by a long shot. A giddy grin lit up your features.

“God, I missed this,” he mumbled against your lips as his hands lifted your white sundress you bought specifically for the date with your ex-fiancé, now-boyfriend.

You moaned an affirmative reply, gasping as his hands rolled over your breasts, encased in creamy satin.

“I missed you,” he mumbled over your lips, hands tugging down the cups of your bra to rub against hardened nipples. “You’re so pretty, so warm.”

You couldn’t hold back any sound, gasping and keening at his touch. You were soaked, absolutely dripping, from his ministrations against your neck and breasts.  You missed him too. Your short-lived engagement had ended without a wedding, for the second time in your life, and you pined after the boy who stole and broke your heart completely.

Yoongi pulled away from you, using the separation to tug the dress up and over your head and to gaze at you. Your breasts were haphazardly pulled out of the bra, your panties becoming slick against your core. Yoongi was sure he had never felt a pleasure this strong in any high.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured.  Your cheeks heated, you couldn’t help it.  Hearing him speak so gently, so lovingly, after so long and after so much pain flooded your senses pleasantly. His words wrapped around you like cashmere, warming and smoothing every inch of you.

“I need you, Yoongi,” you whispered, hand reaching towards his erection tenting his jeans. “Want to please you.”

Yoongi hissed at the feeling of your hand against his length. He nearly came right then. He hadn’t slept with anyone since your last time, the most heartbreaking sex he had ever had. 

The feeling of you both crying as he entered you kept him turned off of it for over a year. And now you were back, pliant in his arms, and most of all, happy. He never wanted to see your anguished grief during sex again, or ever, if he could help it.

Your eyes looked so determined to please him, how could Yoongi say no?  He nodded and leaned forward to kiss you, before switching positions and resting his back against the wall.

You thrilled at the switch and quickly dropped to your knees.  Being on your knees in front of Yoongi was so familiar, so comforting and so incredibly hot. He looked so good.  You could tell he had been working out. Muscles shone through his skin, and detailed lines appeared at his obliques and hip flexors. He was mouth watering.  You missed him.

You loved him.

You made quick work of his jeans, unbuttoning the black denim and pushing down the zip and sliding the tight pants down and off his legs. He stood in his tight underwear and shirt, eyes so full of love and grace, staring down at you. He couldn’t believe it was happening again, and on such better terms.

Yoongi knew he had so much to make up to you, so much trust to build and apologies to promise you daily. Yoongi was grateful you were giving him that chance again.

Within moments, Yoongi’s boxers laid on the floor next to his jeans and his thick, heavy cock laid hot in your delicate hand.

Yoongi nearly cried at the sensation. Not only had it been long since any stimulation, it had been so long since he had been with you. The fact it was you again after all this time held the most significance to him.

Your eyes flicked between Yoongi’s thick and delicious cock, and his own face.  No longer was the selfish, uncaring man present from so long ago.  No longer was the drugged out, sorrowful, too thin addict in front of you.  

As you pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of his cock and swirled your tongue around the tip, you felt amazed that you now had the confident, lovely, compassionate Yoongi you were in love with.

Yoongi groaned out loud, uncaring if Jungkook or Taehyung heard from their respective rooms in his shared apartment.  

“Oh fuck, baby,” he whined, sucking air in through his teeth harshly. “So good.”

A smile danced upon your features as you stroked each vein and ridge of his cock with your tongue, flicking at the space he liked most.  The resulting gasp encouraged you more. With a quick, deep breath, you lowered your mouth and fully encompassed his length in the hollow of your throat.  

Yoongi nearly screamed, pleasure coursing through his veins as you allowed him to fuck your throat, a mix of gentle and rough. Your moans spurred him on and the visage of you with your lips wrapped around his cock and saliva streaming down the sides of your mouth nearly forced his undoing.

“Shit, C-Christ, baby,” he gasped. “I’m gonna cum if you keep that up… fuck.” He grabbed at your hair to gently pull your mouth away from him.

You pouted for a split second, already missing the luscious heat and weight of his hard cock gagging you. The pout was quickly wiped away as he wrapped his arms around your waist and carried you to the bed, unable to stop the giggles escaping.

“My turn then,” he grinned as he pushed you down to lie on the pillows. He quickly disrobed you of your bra, tits now fully on display.  He sucked one into his mouth, tongue swirling over the bud, while his other hand pinched and tugged at the opposite. He remembered how much you enjoyed the pain of nipple stimulation. The thought made you wetter.

“Yoongi, holy shit,” you cried, dazzled at the pain in your nipples as he bit down gently at the one in his mouth. “Yes!”

Yoongi couldn’t help the smirk on his face as he switched hands and nipples, sucking the other harshly now and twisting at the wet and red nub he released.

“So good, princess,” he cooed. “So good for me.”

His mouth moved south, kisses burning up your skin as he trailed. He suckled at skin here and there, leaving delicious marks on your abdomen and thighs. You loved being marked by him, even more so now.

Yoongi groaned as he pulled your satin panties down your legs. Your cunt was slick and sticking to the fabric. His mouth watered at the sight.

“My sweet, you’re so wet for me. All from sucking my cock?” He murmured, teasing you by kissing at your thighs. “My dirty little princess.”

You mewled in response, aching to feel him where you needed it most.  Words escaped you, unable to speak except in moans and sighs.

Yoongi looked up at you, watched your cheeks turn pink, your nipples hard and moistened from his mouth, marks of him all down your body.   His cock throbbed, and he rubbed himself against the bed once to relieve some tension. He could hold himself back for now, but he knew as time passed he would be absolutely aching to plunge into your depths.

“I missed this cunt,” he pressed a kiss to the mound. “I’m sure you taste just as perfect as you always have.  I’m drooling for you, baby.”

“P-please, Yoongi, I need you,” you begged, squeezing your eyes closed in desperation. “So wet.”

“I love hearing you say please, little princess.  So sweet.” He kissed the outside of your lips, between your thighs. He loved teasing you, getting you absolutely fucked out before he even touched you.

“Please, oh god Yoongi! I need you so badly!” You were desperate now, nearly tearing up at the ache in your pussy.

“I can’t resist you when you put it like that,” he teased, before finally descending on your cunt. His mouth swirled around, sucking on your clit. You gasped your satisfaction at his touch, finally satisfying that burning desire.

Yoongi took his time, ensured pleasure at each twist and flick of his tongue.  He fucked into your cunt with his tongue, groaning at the sweet taste of your channel. His mouth suckled at your clit, transitioning between harsh sucks, and tongue flicks. As he flicked up against your bundle of nerves, he slid two fingers into your pussy, hissing at the tightness.

“So tight, my sweet,” he whispered. “Can’t wait to feel you on my cock.”  

You groaned in reply, nodding quickly.  Your fingers tugged at your nipples, relishing in the painful stimulation there and hot mouth coaxing an orgasm out of you.

“Close, Yoongi!” You gasped, unable to complete a sentence. “Right there! So close!”

His fingers thrusted faster, slipping a third to stretch you out. His tongue fired rapidly against your clit, suckling and swirling as he went.  

“Yes, baby, cum for me. Cum on my fingers, my love.” He encouraged, panting with excitement, to watch your undoing.

It only took Yoongi’s salacious words and skilled mouth and fingers toying a few more moments for the orgasm to completely take over.  It rolled over you like an avalanche. You screamed in delight, gasping as you felt your channel grip his fingers and milk them as if it were his cock.

Yoongi believed he was watching heaven, itself.  You looked divine, radiant. The feeling of your convulsions around his fingers made him whine, cock head oozing pre-cum and begging to be stuffed inside your heat.

“Fuck, my love. You came so good, you did so well for me,” he praised. “I love this cunt. I love watching you scream for me.”

Your breath was heavy, chest heaving with exertion. Every nerve, every synapse felt alive, alight with ecstasy.

“I’m going to fuck you, my sweet. I will fuck you and love you, all fucking night.” He sucked at the wetness on his fingers as he pulled out of you, before he kissed back up your body to your lips. The kiss was hot and messy, all teeth and no grace or finesse.

“Please, Yoongi, I need to feel your cock,” you gasped.

Yoongi could not delay any longer. His cock felt as if it might implode if it wasn’t buried into you. He pulled your legs up to his shoulders and gazed at your open slit.

“Mine,” he whispered as he lined himself up and allowed your pussy to swallow his length.

There were no words, no accurate description or way to describe how being inside you again felt. He couldn’t put into words the feeling of your slick heat hugging his cock close, your body heaving with ecstasy, your mouth crying his name in joy and pleasure. Yoongi would go through hell a million times over again to feel this again, to feel the physical and emotional love and pleasure he felt here.  

You were his, again.  He could work to make it right.

Yoongi started a slow pace, transfixed at the vision of you taking his cock so well. Your gasps and whines encouraged him.

“You were made for me,” he whispered as he quickened. “This tight little pussy was made for me, to love and to fuck and to ruin.” His words left his mouth without thought, acting on instinct alone. “You’re all mine. Only mine.”

You clutched at his arms, lifting your hips to meet his harsh thrusts. “Yes, baby, yours!” Your voice was five octaves higher. “All yours!”

Yoongi turned feral, his dominating internal narrative spewing from his lips. His cock thrusted into you quick and fast.

“That’s right, my love.  All fucking mine. Gonna fuck you so good every fucking day,” he promised through gritted teeth. His thumb ran down to the apex of your thighs and rubbed at your clit. “Gonna fuck all my cum into you, baby.  You’re mine.”

He continued his ministrations and your pussy felt like the definition of pleasure, itself.  Sparks felt as if they erupted from your coupling. You cried his name, gasping at his possessive promises.

“Gonna marry you, baby,” he intoned. “Gonna make you my wife.”  He felt his end coming close, your shattered cries and impossibly tight cunt bringing him soaring to the edge.

“Gonna fill you with my cum, gonna make you nice and fucking pregnant with our children,” the idea thrilled both of you. “My fucking perfect wife all swollen with our children.”

You agreed loudly. “Yes! Fuck me! Fuck, I want your baby!”

“That’s right, my little love.  Your greedy cunt takes me so well. I know you want all my cum, wanna be nice and full for me.”

The end was nigh, you could feel the burning in your stomach blaze higher and higher. You begged him for more, harder, deeper, which he was more than happy to oblige.

“Fuck, babe, I’m gonna cum, gonna coat your tight little pussy.”  

It only took a few more rough poundings before Yoongi crushed your lips together.  Your orgasm washed over you with the power of the sun.  Your eyes nearly rolled back into their sockets, gasping for air against his lips as your body convulsed.  You moaned loudly as your walls pulsed around him, as if begging him to give you more and more.

Yoongi closed his eyes and soaked in the feeling, biting your bottom lip as he spilled into you, moaning your name with each pulse. The feeling of emptying himself into you rivaled the highest emotion he had ever felt. It felt like the ultimate expression of his love, his devotion.

He held you close as you both breathed heavily, allowing the afterglow of intense orgasm to bathe you in serenity. He carefully slid his cock from within you, groaning at the sight of a slow drip of seed following out your lips.

“I love you,” he murmured, leaning to kiss your lips tenderly this time. “I meant what I said. I want you to be mine again, forever.”

Tears sparked at your eyes, feeling more full, more loved, more warm than you had ever felt before.

“I love you, Min Yoongi.”

Yoongi held you in his arms as he showered you, kissed your body in the warm water, dried you gently with soft towels, and pulled you close in his bed.  You melted against his body perfectly, two puzzle pieces who had been trying to force themselves into the wrong spot, finally coming together.

‘We cordially invite you to the wedding of…’

Min Yoongi felt anxious.

His stomach flipped. His palms were sweaty. His breathing was faster.

A warm hand landed on his back as the ex-rapper stared at himself in the mirror.

“You did it,” a gentle voice spoke. Yoongi looked at the male through the mirror.

“Jimin,” he breathed, feeling a bit of his anxiousness float away with his friend’s words.

Jimin smiled, pink lips puffy and sweet as always.

Yoongi felt his heart clench slightly.  Jimin was the one who saved his life, who stuck a needle in his thigh and revived him when Yoongi was on the verge of death. He choked up at the idea that being here wouldn’t have been possible without the pink-haired boy.

He gazed at his trusted friend, no longer an assistant but a constant companion in the tight group of 7.  He wanted to tell Jimin so much, thank him for saving his life, for pressuring him to check into rehab, for feeding him when he was too drugged out to care.  

Yoongi didn’t need to say anything.  Jimin understood at the tears pricking Yoongi’s eyes.  Jimin’s cheeks turned pink, and he nodded slowly.

“You deserve this and more, Min Yoongi,” his voice was full of such care and sincerity. “I may have revived you, but you saved your own life. I just gave you the spark to continue it.”

Yoongi had started his adult life as an addict, as an award-winning musical artist with platinum albums and money, status, reputation.  Grief had consumed Yoongi, along with regret, sorrow, loneliness.

Yoongi fought back, pushed against the odds.

Yoongi was beginning a fresh life—as a recovering addict, a therapist, a best friend, a husband.

He smiled at himself in the mirror as his groomsmen surrounded him and joined in the moment of happiness. It was peaceful. It was joyful.  Yoongi smiled at each of the 6 men who affected him.  

Hoseok, from childhood who allowed him to face the ugly fact that he was killing himself.  Namjoon, his nurturing manager, who protected him at all costs and stood by his side through each dirt-dredging tabloid. Taehyung, his creative muse, his inspiration. Jungkook, his reason for health and wellness, his comedic relief.  Seokjin, the therapist that changed his life and course of his future. Jimin, the man who saved his life, who accepted and expected nothing in return except Yoongi’s sobriety and happiness.

Together, the men walked out of the dressing room and orderly into the reception hall.

Yoongi took his place at the altar, the very one he left you at, and inhaled a breath.

The piano played gently, a soft and light version of the traditional song. It sounded ethereal. Yoongi felt as if he was flying.

The large, oak double doors swung open and the parade of flower girls and bridesmaids walked down the aisle to stand opposite the groomsmen.

Yoongi stopped breathing as the music played louder, more intently, more beautiful.

You appeared.

You looked like an angel.

Your mother flanked you to give you away. You both looked more beautiful than he could have ever recalled.

Yoongi couldn’t stifle the tears that poured out of his eyes. He couldn’t pull his gaze from anywhere but you.

There you were. Walking towards him, as if a dream. The loveliest of dreams. Wrapped in silk and chiffon and lace, delicate pearls around your neck.

Yoongi would endure it all again, feel every ounce, to have this moment.

It was complete as you stood next to him, hands clasped in each other, tears sliding down each other’s face.

At the word of the pastor, Yoongi leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours, sealing you as husband and wife, finally.  

Yoongi was on the inside of your orbit now, basking in the warmth he had desired before on the outside.  Yoongi simmered in the sweet, gentle glow of you and your encompassing love.  

Now, Yoongi knew what it felt like to be the one on the inside of your world, instead of looking in from the darkness. Yoongi knew it now, and knew, with all his heart, that he deserved to remember it for the rest of his long, healthy life.

Yoongi was living.

Yoongi was finally, truly,

alive.

© ppersonna - 2020 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

[summersun4youforever]

✨ Tag 9 people to learn more about their interests!

tagged by my fav @loulovehome thank you pu hope that this quells your curiosity! 

MUSIC

fav genre? not to be that person but i think i have a toe in most genres, i suppose my favorites have got to be anything taylor swift does, pop punk, r&b pop/new age r&b, and bluegrass

fav artist? again, not to be that person but i love so many artists! let’s do this based off of genre: taylor swift, 1D, 5sos, massive focus on ZAYN, the Avett brothers, and counting crows

fav song? fav song of all time (since i was young) is going to be come around by rhett miller but more currently i’d say you are in love by taylor swift and dRuNk by ZAYN

song currently stuck in your head? i have no idea how it got there but i have stressed out by 21 pilots stuck in my head??

5 fav lyrics? ok let’s do this kids. edit: this went in a “fav love song lyrics” way so sorry in advance.

1)  I hope that I don't sound to insane when I say / There is darkness all around us / I don't feel weak but I do need sometimes for her to protect me / And reconnect me to the beauty that I'm missin' (January Wedding - The Avett Brothers)

2)  Hands around my waist / You're counting up the hills across the sheets / And I'm a falling star / A glimmer lighting up these cotton streets / I admit I'm a bit of a fool for playing by the rules / But I've found my sweet escape when I'm alone with you (Disconnected - 5sos)

3)  This is the worthwhile fight / Love is a ruthless game / Unless you play it good and right / These are the hands of fate / You're my Achilles heel / This is the golden age of something good / And right and real (State of Grace - Taylor Swift) 

4)  What if I changed my mind / What if I said it's over / I been flying so long / Can't remember what it was like to be sober / What if I lost my lives? / What if I said "Game over"? / What if I forget my lies? / And I lose all my composure (Back to Life - ZAYN)

5)   I never said I was perfect / Or you don't deserve a good person to carry your baggage / I know a few girls that can handle it / I ain't that kind of chick, but I can call 'em for you if you want / I never said that you wasn't attractive / Your style and that beard, ooh, don't get me distracted / I'm tryna be patient, and patience takes practice / The fact is I'm leaving, so just let me have this (Jerome - Lizzo)

radio or your own playlist | solo artists or bands | pop or indie | loud or silent volume I slow or fast songs | music video or lyrics video | speakers or headset | riding a bus in silence or while listening to music | driving in silence or with radio on

BOOKS

fav book genre? murder mystery and young love!

fav writer? jane austen, lisa jewell, and rick riordan (nostalgia ok?!)

fav book? the way i used to be my amber smith, rebecca by daphane du maurier, and then she was gone OR watching you (both by Lisa Jewell)

fav book series? i guess the whole percy jackson situations? i have everything RR every wrote, and i liked it all but i havent touched the older ones in ages

comfort book? not one specifically but the nancy drew books

perfect book to read on a rainy day? bird summons by leila aboulela

5 quotes from your fav book that you know by heart? i hope i can name five...

1)  “The point is, life has to be endured, and lived. But how to live it is the problem.” “I am no traveller, you are my world.” (both are My Cousin Rachel by Daphne Du Maurier)

2)  “And I’m terrified he’ll see through the tough iceberg layer, and he’ll discover not a soft, sweet girl, but an ugly fucking disaster underneath.” (The Way I Used to Be by Amber Smith)

3)  "I cannot make speeches, Emma," he soon resumed; and in a tone of such sincere, decided, intelligible tenderness as was tolerably convincing. "If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. But you know what I am. You hear nothing but truth from me. I have blamed you, and lectured you, and you have borne it as no other woman in England would have borne it. Bear with the truths I would tell you now, dearest Emma, as well as you have borne with them. The manner, perhaps, may have as little to recommend them. God knows, I have been a very indifferent lover. But you understand me. Yes, you see, you understand my feelings and will return them if you can. At present, I ask only to hear, once to hear your voice.” (Emma by Jane Austen) (sorry for the length, the shortened versions were not cutting it for me)

4)  “Read, read, read. That's all I can say.” (The Secret of the Old Clock by Carolyn Keene)

5)  “...amazing how boring you can get away with being when you’re pretty. No one seems to notice. When you’re pretty everyone just assumes you must have a great life. People are so short-sighted, sometimes. People are so stupid. I have a dark past and I have dark thoughts. I do dark things and I scare myself sometimes.” (Invisible Girl by Lisa Jewell)

hardcover or paperback | buy or rent | standalone novels or book series | ebook or physical copy | reading at night or during the day | reading at home or in nature | listening to music while reading or reading in silence | reading in order or reading the ending first | reliable or unreliable narrator | realism or fantasy | one or multiple POVS | judging by the covers or by the summary (im a very judgmental reader) | rereading or reading just once

TV AND MOVIES

fav tv/movie genre? i like dramedies, mockumentaries, and procedurals 

fav movie? ive got a massive list on my phone but ill pick Doob (No Bed of Roses) and 3-Iron as my favs for today

comfort movie? 2000s romcoms, im talking clueless, 13 going on 30, how to loe a guy in ten days, ten things i hate abt you, legally blonde

movie you watch every year? mamma mia and all listed in prev question

fav tv show? too many, currently im rewatching arrested development

comfort tv show? new girl

most rewatched tv show? new girl

ultimate otp? shawn and jules from psych (ultimate bc ive been watching since diapers literally)

5 fav characters? winston bishop, stiles stilinski, bellamy blake, clarke griffin, lydia martin

tv shows or movies | short seasons (8-13 episodes) or full seasons (22 episodes or more) | one episode a week or binging | one season or multiple seasons | one part or saga | half hour or one hour long episodes | subtitles on or off | rewatching or watching just once | downloads or watches online

super fun even though it took me an hour lmao, I'm tagging @technosoot @hometothecanyonmoon @sassylilnoodle @sushiniall @rosegold-thorns no pressure and sorry if youve already been tagged!

edit: i somehow managed to forget what i consider to be one of the greatest opening verses ever???? so bonus lyrics:

Step out the front door like a ghost into the fog / Where no one notices the contrast of white on white / And in between the moon and you / The angels get a better view / Of the crumbling difference between wrong and right (Round Here - Counting Crows)

[comphersjost]

All For You (4 times you tried to tell Brady you loved him, and the one time Matty did it for you) ➸ Brady Tkachuk and Matthew Tkachuk

reahi, i had an idea and opened a document and i couldnt stop writing, this is what came out. it was edited but i made a lot of changes after, so please forgive any mistakes, typos, plot holes, etc. enjoy :)

Finally fed up with pining over your best friend from afar, you enlist the help of Matthew to help you get the guy - you’re just not really sure who the guy is anymore. Or: 4 times you tried to tell Brady you loved him, and the one time Matty told him for you.

word cout: 5.1k (sorry lmao)

warnings: a LOT of angst, like a lot. smut, nothing as wild as ive written before, car sex, cockwarming, etc. etc. usual cussing, love triangles ig? alcohol, super brief mention of weed, mentions of sex while drunk/high

part two

part three

part four

part five

masterlist

I.

You tried to take Matty’s smile and what was supposed to be an encouraging nod to heart, and let it boost your with confidence. But it didn't. It really, really didn't. You could see Brady on the other side of the room, smiling down at your mom the way he always did. It was that smile he reserved for your parents, the charming, boyish, smile. It was the same smile that got your parents to let you out of the house late in high school even though you were grounded. It was the smile you got to see sitting on your rooftop just a little too tipsy at 2 in the morning. The same smile you wished you could kiss right off his face. 

Brady glances up from your mom’s face for a moment, and catches your eyes. His smile widens impossibly, and you watch him excuse himself from your mother. She smiles knowingly at you, a gentle sparkle in her eye as Brady finds his way towards you.

You latch onto him as soon as you're in his arms, pressing yourself to him, closer closer closer. “Hi,” you hear him mumble against the top of your head. 

“Hi, B,” you breathe back, barely audible over the chatter in the room. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too, buttercup,” Brady beams down at you, squeezing your shoulders again. 

Your throat dries up as you stare up at him. You always loved the way his eyes crinkled shut when he smiled big like he was now. A tiny part of you wants to say fuck it and stand up on the tips of your toes to kiss him full on the mouth. You feel yourself swallow, your mouth opens and you want to get the words out, just like Matthew said you could. 

“Listen, Brady I-” 

“Y/N I want you to meet someone.” 

You and Brady spoke at the same time, and rather than let you finish your sentence, Brady lets you out of his arms, resting his hand against your lower back and leading you somewhere deeper into the house. 

“I want you to meet my friend,” he continues, “I know you haven't seen anyone since… but anyways, yeah I think you might like him.” Your lips remain parted, the words stuck in your throat. Of all the things you expected coming to the Tkachuk house tonight, of everything you could have thought might happen during your plan to confess your feelings to your best friend, an off-handed mention of your piece of shit ex-boyfriend and Brady attempting to set you up with someone was far from it.  

Your eyes are hazy, your focus far from the situation at hand, even as you let Brady introduce you to his friend. You barely remember the poor kid’s name, too caught up in trying to keep your shit together. Your eyes find Matthew’s, hating the sympathetic smile on his lips. 

You don't want his pity. It just makes you feel worse. You turn abruptly to Brady’s friend and stop him mid-sentence. “I’m really sorry,” you say, “I just don't think this is going to work out, I have my eyes on someone else.” He doesn't say anything as you walk away, bee-lining straight for Matthew. 

You grab his forearm, ignoring his protests when you drag him out to the backyard. 

“Why did he do that?” you say once you're outside. “Why did he introduce me to someone that I could date? What if you're wrong, Matty? What if he doesn't like me like you think he does?” 

Matthew didn't have an answer for that. He did know one thing though. 

“Then he’s an idiot, Y/N, and he can't see a good thing, a great thing, even when she's right in front of him.” You let out a wet laugh, trying your best not to read too deep into what Brady had tried to do tonight. Instead you let him tuck a strand behind your ear and pull you into a comforting hug, the both of you unaware of Brady’s eyes on you, a smile tugging at his lips at the thought of you two together. 

II.

Ottawa playing a game against Calgary meant you had to cancel any and all plans you had for that weekend. The whole Tkachuk family couldn't make it from St. Louis, but you living in Calgary made up for it. You were shaking with excitement - you hadn't seen Brady in a month and a half, since that horrible attempt at telling him how you felt. You hoped that this time would be different. 

The arms that wrap around your waist in the middle of the hotel lobby are all too familiar to alarm you. 

“Hi, buttercup,” comes the soft whisper, and you can't even attempt to fight the smile that pulls at your lips. 

“Hi, Brady,” you whisper back, feeling Brady loosen his hold on your so you could twist around in his grip. “You've been gone too long.” 

“Hmm, I know,” Brady hums, kissing your hairline gently. “I'm sorry I'm not visiting as much, you know it has nothing to do with you right?” 

“I know, Brady,” you reassure him. “I just miss you.” I love you. The thought is screaming in your head, begging for you to let out.

I love you I love you I love you

“Just say the three little words, Y/N, tell him how you feel.” Those were Matty’s words, just this morning when you had a crisis about seeing Brady again. You paced across the floor of his living room, the walls and tables all over his apartment covered in jerseys and odd paraphernalia he’d acquired over his time playing in the NHL.

“I can't, Matty, what if he,” you gasped for air at the idea, “what if he doesn't love me back, I don't think I could handle that.��� 

Matt had laughed at you this morning, assuring that to the best of his knowledge (and he knew his brother pretty damn well), Brady was in love with you too. Besides, he'd said, even if he wasn't in love with you back there was nothing you could do to make him want to stop being friends with you. 

Brady pulls away from you, preparing to head to whatever restaurant you were supposed to meet Matthew at. 

“So, Brady, there was something that I-” 

“Hey, what's this?” Brady’s curious expression made you pause. He tugs the fabric of your sweater down a little by your chest, exposing your collarbone, and a dark purple mark you hadn't meant for anyone to see. Your blood runs cold, knowing exactly where that's from. 

Matthew had given it to you, when the both of you had gotten just a little too wine drunk and you'd ended up in his lap. It was ironic really, you'd been discussing how to drop more hints to Brady about how you feel about him. He'd been helping you with that dilemma since the summer. And then last Sunday, you'd been over at his place for dinner, and the night had ended with him grabbing handfuls of your ass while you whined desperately against his mouth. 

There was no way you could tell Brady how you felt now, not with him having just asked about the bruise his brother had left on your skin. 

“You and my brother finally getting it on?” Brady says suggestively, a shit eating grin on his face as he wiggles his eyebrows at you. You feel like a deer stuck in the headlights. 

“Why would you even say that?” you snap, ignoring the way he recoils, lips parted and eyes wide in surprise. “Come on we have to go meet your brother for dinner.” 

III. 

You and Matthew had bought your plane tickets home for Christmas together, deciding that it made more sense since you both lived in Calgary and were going home to the same neighborhood. Brady’s flight was coming in the day after. You’d been spending most of your time at the Tkachuk house, lounging around with Matthew. You’d hung around their house to stay out of your mom’s way, knowing having people around would only just stress her out as she prepared for your whole family to come home. 

Today was the day Brady’s flight was coming in. Chantal and Keith chose to spend the day out shopping before heading to the airport to pick up Brady late in the afternoon. Taryn was spending the day at her friend’s house, leaving you and Matthew alone in the house.

Which, you should have known it was a bad idea. You swore it was nothing between you and Matt, you swore it was just about Matt helping you get the guy, get Brady. But it seemed like the more you, Matt, and alcohol were all involved, you ended up in precarious positions. 

Today you chose not to drink, hooded eyes watching Matt take another drink of whatever liquor he’d chosen this time, before your gaze slid back to the pipe in your hand, lighter dangling between two fingers. You knew how this would end, you and Matt would get wasted, you’d fuck, rough, hard, fast, desperate, and then you would go back to pretending it never happened, went back to him helping you with getting Brady to notice your interest. You didn't talk about it, and you were almost always some kind of inhibited. 

You refused to fuck Matthew in his childhood bedroom, arguing that it was bad karma. He laughed at you then, a soft laugh, clear of any indication that Matt is drunk out of his mind. The laugh is too innocent of a laugh for the way his voice lowers after it ends. He talks you into it, seduces you more like. He’s got you sliding into the backseat of a beat up old Toyota Corolla, his first car (“And how exactly is that any better than your childhood bedroom, Matty?). He tells you that you have hours alone in the house before anyone comes home and you might as well pass the time. 

The talking and seducing turns into heated, sloppy kisses. You giggle against his mouth, tugging at the curls at the back of his head while avoiding the thought that you swore to yourself you would tell Brady how you felt when he got home tonight. But then Matthew’s lips trailed away from your mouth, over your jaw, your cheek, the curve of your throat, and any thought of Brady was gone. 

The messy kisses turned into you riding Matt, his old car rocking back and forth as you bounced on his dick. He kisses you to quiet his moans. No one was supposed to be home for hours but, just in case. He's got you whining desperately while you clench around him, his giant hands squeezing your hips. He guides you up and down on his cock, relishing in the way your body moves the way he wants without a fight. 

I bet Brady couldn't fuck you like I can. 

The thought flashes through his brain before he can stop it, and then it's like someone put a red tint on his world view. You belonged to him. Matthew’s possessive rage has him fucking harder into you, his hands falling from your hips to your ass to slam you forcefully down on him. Growls fall from his lips, the thought of his younger brother fucking you making him intent on bringing you to as many orgasms as possible. That thought is also what made his teeth come down on your skin. He sucks and bites into your skin all over your chest, leaving marks that would expose that you were having sex with someone to anyone who saw - that would expose you to Brady. 

You let out almost a squeal when you cum, clenching around Matthew’s cock and sobbing desperately. You don't see the smug grin on his face when he watches you cum, only letting him keep doing what he's doing because it just feels so damn good. 

Matt follows through on his mental promise, fucking you through as many orgasms as he could (5, the last time he checked, he lost count). His hands flex over your ass, sighing contentedly as he pulls you so that you sink all the way back down on his cock. He pulls you to his chest, nuzzling into you as the two of you doze off. 

Brady finds you that way, seeing the way you’re nuzzled into his brother’s chest through the windshield. The fact that he only saw you through the windshield protected him from seeing the most incriminating part, Matthew’s cock, still stuffed all the way inside of you. He can still see the bare skin of yours and Matt’s shoulders, so he opts out of waking you up, instead heading towards his room to shower off that airport smell and nap, a devastatingly pretty blonde attached to his hip. 

When you wake up, you feel groggy, but more sober than before. After you moaned pathetically when Matthew lifted you off of his cock, the two of you snuck back inside the house, managing to get you out the door and back to your house, and Matthew to his room. When you and your family made their way over for dinner later that night (the hickies and bruises on your skin successfully covered up), you feel your heart twist in your chest at what - or rather, who - greets you there. 

“Y/N! Hey!” Brady sounds so excited, so you humor him, hiding the way it feels like you're about to explode into a million little shreds. “This is my girlfriend, Autumn.” 

And - you really can't hate her. She's so nice, so incredibly kind and radiant and you really don't blame Brady for not taking his eyes off her the whole night. You didn't even know he was bringing her. Matthew catches your eyes, shaking his head sadly and mouthing I didn’t know. 

You shrug, your gaze falling back to the design on the carpet, how the spirals of each shape in the carpet almost mirror your heart, spiraling out and falling apart before your eyes. 

Matt’s gaze remains on you. Something about seeing your skin clear and bare after he had taken such good care to leave as many marks as possible didn't sit right with him. It made his gut twist; he wanted everyone to know. He wanted Brady to know. 

You hate the unpleasant feeling in your gut every time Autumn says something. And you really hate the way Brady smiles apologetically at you when you pulled him aside to say “You never told me you were seeing someone.” 

You just had to get through this night and then it was back to Calgary. 

IV.

Of all traditions your family has with Tkachuks, the vacations are your favorite. 

You're in California this offseason, renting a house in some random, tourist-attracting beach town. Both your families had always done something similar to this (letting the boys take care of a large chunk of it now that they're on NHL salaries), renting 2 houses and splitting you up between the parents and you and the Tkachuk kids once you were old enough. 

Brady had broken up with Autumn in May, which you couldn't be more thankful for, knowing that had that not happened she would've been on this vacation. “Nothing terrible happened,” he assured you over the phone that day. “She's an amazing girl, she really is, she's just...she's not the one for me.” 

You were glad he couldn't see the smile that pulled at your lips at those words.

As for Matthew...well, you'd barely done as much as look at him since Christmas, not wanting to fall back into the habit of sleeping with him whenever you managed to get drunk enough to forget Brady’s existence for half a second. 

But now Brady and Taryn are at the beach, meeting up with some friends they somehow convinced to drive up from Orange County, and you were laying outside in the rented house’s backyard on one of the pool chairs. You’d opted to stay home this time, having spent almost every minute of this vacation attached to Brady at the hip. 

It was pathetic, almost, the way you followed him around. Matt thought so, at least. What he thought was even more pathetic though, was the way Brady had the perfect fucking woman in front of him - pining after him even - and he still couldn't see it, no matter how hard you and Matt tried to make him. 

Matt hates that he finds himself wishing that the whiny voice you used to get Brady to do things you wanted was following him around instead, like the incessant bug he'd teased you about being when you whined for the millionth time to Brady that it was hot. 

Brady had looked at you all soft in the moment, leaning down to kiss your forehead before placing his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into him. “Not hot enough for you not to cuddle with me,” he’d said, your giggles prompting him to tickle your sides until you'd both forgotten about your complaining. 

“Y/N, you left your water bottle outside,” Matthew says abruptly, adding on a “by the way” so you two would stop staring at him like he interrupted something. Like he wasn't even supposed to be there. 

“Oh,” the realization makes you frown, and the pout that accompanies your furrowed brows almost make him combust from how cute you look. “Didn't know you noticed I left it out there.” 

Brady keeps his arm around you as he lets you take him back outside for the water bottle, making you miss the way Matt whispers “I always notice.”

- 

You briefly wondered what Matthew was doing, before the question was answered for you by a soft sensation against your knee. His lips trailed up your thigh, nosing at your skin before pressing another open-mouthed kiss into your thigh, making your eyes flutter open briefly. It's hot, your skin feels like it's on fire, buzzing, like you're vibrating from the inside out. 

Even with the sun washing over you the way that it is, the fire you feel on your tanned skin, Matthew’s lips make you burn. He makes you ache, the way he hasn't touched you like this in months. 

“Everyone is gone for the day,” he murmurs against you, kisses becoming more frequent across your hips. “All of them. I could fuck you and make you scream and no one would know.” His words make you shudder, your back arching as his lips traveled upwards, teeth coming out to mark you up all over your tits. “So pretty like this baby, when I mark you up like that.” 

You know that if you don't stop him now, Matt will get you in his bed - he would get you in his bed and then from there he'd take you apart with his fingers, his cock, his mouth. Then he’d use that same damn mouth that got you into bed with him to talk you into staying there. And as much as you love Brady… you can't resist him. You place your hand on his shoulder, his skin is warm, and it takes everything out of you to push him away. 

“Matty, stop, Matthew, stop it.” Suddenly you can feel the sun back on your skin, Matthew having retreated from you completely. 

“What's wrong?” he says softly, “Please, what did I do?” 

“Nothing,” you lie, closing your eyes again so you wouldn't have to look at him as you say your next words. “I'm telling Brady how I feel. Tonight. No matter what happens I’m telling him tonight.” 

“Oh. Good luck, then, I guess.” That's all Matthew says, then there's a shuffling noise and silence. Then the slam of the sliding door to the kitchen. 

You shift uncomfortably and turn your thoughts back to Brady. 

It’s later, when you’re curled up against Brady’s chest with a random movie playing on tv that you get cold feet. It’s just you and him, on the couch of the first floor of the house. Matthew is God knows where, and Taryn still hadn't gotten back from her friend’s house. This moment on the couch with him is perfect, it feels so domestic. You don't want to ruin this moment by telling him how you feel, and potentially - probably - being rejected. 

You promised yourself. 

You take a deep breath, ready to blurt out those three little words, and then - 

“So, you and my brother huh?” Brady murmurs, eyes remaining trained on the action scene on the screen in front of him. “I know you got defensive last time I mentioned it but you guys are good together, and I'm glad you finally see it.”

You feel like you can't breathe, your throat choking up. You want to cry, yell, scream, something to just let him know that you love him. 

“Actually, Brady -”

“Hey, don't worry it’s okay,” Brady laughs, reassuring you and pulling you closer to squeeze you. “I promise, I've seen you with him, and I think you guys are good together, don't worry about it.” You fall silent, not really knowing how to work your way out of this one. 

“We’re not together,” you say quietly, and you had the way Brady’s hum of acknowledgment sounds like he doesn't believe you. You give up on telling him tonight.

+1 

The expression on Brady’s face drops when he meets your eyes across the table. You were just so tired. And you knew that he could see it in your face. What with work absolutely kicking your ass, to the point where you were barely able to get this week off to come home to St. Louis. It’s the end of summer, which means you and Brady were about to go through months of hectic schedules and voicemails that say “Hey, sorry I just missed your call, life has been crazy lately.” Your gaze falls from the lines of Brady's face to the seat at his right side.

Autumn smiles at you, and you hate the way the warmth that radiates from her feels like a knife twisting deeper into your gut. You hate yourself for how much you hate Autumn, you know she doesn't deserve it. Brady catches your eye again, a brief flash of recognition sliding across his face before it's gone. You'd been avoiding him for the past three days since you got here, and you almost felt guilty for it. 

Matt’s hand gripping your thigh draws your attention away from Brady. He squeezes your thigh, smiling reassuringly at you and bumping your shoulder gently. It’s when Autumn finally stands from the table, smiling sweetly at Keith and Chantal, that you release the breath you'd been holding in all night. Brady says he's going to walk her out, a car waiting for her outside to take her to the airport back to Ottawa. 

You don't fight it when Matthew tells you to head downstairs and he and Taryn could take care of the cleaning up. You curl up on the couch in the basement, stealing Matt’s Flames hoodie off the back of a chair and a blanket from the closet. Your eyes flutter shut to the muted noises of the dishes clinking together. 

You let your eyes flutter closed, only opening them again when you feel a warm heat slide in beside you. You hum when Matt kisses your temple softly. 

“You okay?” he nudges you gently, stealing the end of your blanket to cover his legs. 

“Yeah, just tired,” you mumble back, voice muffled by the pillow your face is half-buried in. You know Matthew knows better than to believe your blatant lie, but you're okay with the way he chooses to move past it and not make you talk about it. 

The two of you lounge on the couch silently, Matt switching on some Netflix show he’d been watching after you heard Taryn say she was going to bed. You tried not to think about how long Brady was taking upstairs with Autumn. 

They'd gotten back together over the summer, she’d reached out to him before he left for the off season, which he failed to mention until it was nearly over. Against both yours, Matthew’s, and Taryn’s advice, Brady had bought a plane ticket back to Ottawa, saying that he might as well give it a shot. 

Matthew had held you when you cried that night, Taryn bringing the two of you water and food when it was clear you weren't leaving his room, much less his arms. 

He wanted to hold you right now too, god how he wanted to hold you. But he couldn't, not with Brady due back any second from waiting out front for Autumn's ride. He couldn't risk Brady seeing the two of you, not again. 

Brady had made comments here and there about Matt’s relationship with you. No matter how much Matt insisted that the two of you weren't involved, Brady wasn't convinced, insisting that he was okay with it. 

But right now, in this moment, he wanted to believe him. Matt’s hands ached to touch you, hold you, draw patterns on your skin, he yearned for it. He wanted - he needed to make sure that you knew that everything was going to be okay. Just as his resolve starts to crumble, his hands twitching in his lap as he begins to reach for you, a voice comes from the stairs. 

“We should talk - right?” Brady is talking to you, making you open your eyes to look at him. “Like - things are weird, have been weird, and we have to talk about it right?” 

You nodded silently, shifting in your spot so that you're sitting up, any physical contact you had with Matt now lost. “Yeah,” your voice comes out small, a whisper, and then stronger, firmer. “Yeah, we need to talk.” 

This is it.

The silence in the room is almost unbearable, and you're unable to choke the words out. Brady stares at you, while you stare down at your hands. Matt refuses to look at either of you, gaze trained on the wall behind the TV, jaw clenched so tightly that if your eyes were on him you'd tell him he was about to break his teeth. 

“Is this about you and Matt?” The words come out of nowhere, and it feels like you've been slapped. 

“What?” Matt’s head snaps towards Brady, as does yours.

“No, really,” Brady says, “Did you guys break up oh something?

“What are you talking about Brady?” You can't stop the frustration from seeping into your voice. “That's not what this is -” 

“‘Cause you know I’m okay with you guys together,” Brady continues obliviously, “I keep telling both of you that it's fine but I don't get why you insist on-” 

“Oh my god you idiot!” Matt’s outburst shuts Brady up pretty quickly, leaving the younger brother staring at him with wide eyes and an open mouth. Matt looks at you and his eyes are sad, regret and apologies already written all over his face for what he's about to say next. “She's in love with you.” 

He speaks so quietly you almost don't hear the second part of his statement. 

“And I’m in love with her.”

Time screeches to a halt. You're convinced it's a dream, nearly pinching yourself to prove that it is. Brady is staring at Matt now, and you're staring at the ground. 

“You're lying.” You don't believe the words you're saying either, and neither do Matt and Brady. 

“I love you.” He's telling the truth, you can hear it in his voice. 

“Stop.”

“I love you and you love him.” 

“Stop it!” 

“I love you, and, fuck - Y/N, it’s simultaneously the best and worst thing that’s ever fucking happened to me.”

“Please! Matty, please! Just stop!”

“Is he telling the truth?” This time it’s Brady. His voice quivers with every word. Like he doesn’t want it to be true. “You're in love with me?” 

You wrap your arms around your torso, squeezing your eyes shut and hoping - praying - that when you opened your eyes, this would all be over and you'd wake up in your bed. But when you opened your eyes again, you were still on the couch in the Tkachuk’s basement, blanket tangled between you and Matt. 

“You should have let me tell him,” you say to Matt, ignoring Brady’s question, still lingering in the air. “I wanted to be the one to tell him, you knew that.” 

“Well, he hasn't been letting you, now has he?” Matt snaps back at you, the regret showing up on his face almost instantaneously. “Baby…” 

The name slips out on accident, he doesn't mean to say, and he sure as hell doesn't mean for Brady to hear it. 

“Okay, what the hell is going on here?” Brady finally yells, fed up with being kept in the dark. “What the fuck are you guys talking about?” 

“I don't-” you start to say, trying to say it before Matt does. 

“She loves you, okay?” Matt grabs your hand for a moment when he starts to speak, giving it a squeeze before taking his own hand back again. “She loves you in more than a friend way, and we’ve spent nearly the last year trying to get her to tell you but every time - every time Brady! - some stupid shit happens, like you trying to hook her up with someone, or - oh, I don't know - randomly springing your girlfriend on us!” 

“That was one time!” Brady argues, “Besides you were the only one who knew Autumn was coming, why are you even mad?” You flinch at the mention of her name, but freeze at what comes after. 

“What?” 

Matt looks like he's been caught red handed - and he has, really. He just didn't mean for you to find out this way. He didn't mean for you to find out any of this the way that you just did. 

“I can explain -”  

“Please don't,” you stand up just as Matt is reaching for you. “I don't want an explanation. I don't - I just want to - I’m going home.” 

While Brady doesn’t even look at you, Matt nearly lunges for you when you walk away from the couch. Walk away from him. He hates the way the thought stings. He barely manages to brush his fingertips against the red fabric of his hoodie before you're halfway up the stairs and the door to the basement slams shut. 

[lesbianklance]

rewrite au where, sure keith is autistic, but its revealed pidge and hunk are as well, and we get good enough personality from galra to know his weird behavior isn't a galra thing. alsooo, rewrite where the story actually cares about its characters emotions and we see keith deal with his feelings of alienation hes dealt with sense he was young from being an autistic and traumitized, and bonding with fellow characters who are autistic or traumitized, and learning its not a galra thing - aroklance

FUCK YES

should have known that post would have attracted you and your spectacular rewrites😌

honesty blaming his autistic traits on him being galra was so fucking lazy of them but what did we expect huh?

have the boy get some actual support they have him being strong all the time and calm and collected we havent seen him break down and cry once

it might be the angst bitch in me but bro for fucks fucking sake the dude literally:

saw his dead father after a decade of going from orphanage to foster care to group homes. he saw him again the only stable family he ever had that he lost 10 years ago. he wasn't even phased. tbh i havent seen anyone talking about this??? and like??? the dude was allowed to be heartbroken it was a very emotional scene. i get that they wanted to focus on the galra shit but he literally saw his father that he lost which started a series of unfortunate events for him in a vision and then had to leave him behind. didnt even see him talk about it or cry over him

we didnt see how his galra lineage affected him, like at all. he just found out he was half galra and moved on. his entire life must have turned upside down s h o w t h a t

he left his new family and suddenly turned into a robot, living with a bunch of aliens he's never met that put the mission above people's lives

ALMOST FUCKING DIED FOR THE CAUSE but nope of course it never gets addressed, no one even tells him that he is important too and shouldn't do shit like that. ffs the team probably didnt even know about it. how did that affect keith??? he almost died and he just moved on??? he should have been at least in shock???

HE LITERALLY MET HIS MUM THAT ABANDONED HIM FOR 19 FUCKING YEARS AND NEVER YELLS AT HER. youre telling me keith the hothead of the team wouldnt yell or at least sass his mum? sounds fake. she just gives him some bs excuse they spend 2 years on a whale doing bonding or some shit and everything is cool. SHOW US KEITH DEALING WITH HIS TRAUMA THAT WOMAN LITERALLY CAUSED HIS ABANDONMENT ISSUES FFS

those 2 years on the whale must have been really fucking traumatic. they didnt have any food, any clothes, any privacy. he was stuck with the woman that left him, that is a stranger to him. no other human interraction for 2 entire years. leave me in that place for 2 years with my best friend since middle school that I've never faught with? we'd rip each other's heads off, much less my mum that left me. yet its shown as a good thing oh yay it fixed him

and then he's just a bad shiro clone for the rest of the show. just following orders doing whatever tf is good for the universe shown as being better than everyone

and theeen we get the confirmation yes the autistic coded character? the one that always thought there was something wrong with him? the one that always seeked out a family (and btw the whole point of the family trope they were supposed to do was to give him said family with the paladins but nah he left them to go to the BOM)? yeah he left the only family he found fucked off to space because apparently all those thoughts he had all his life were right. yeah kids? if you feel like something is wrong with you and you dont fit in? suck it up and leave. great message there voltron

i got off topic sorry svdkhsjsb

point is: SHOW HIM DEALING WITH HIS TRAUMA CAUSE LORD KNOWS HE'S GOT A LOT OF IT AND REALISING HIM NOT BEING NEUROTYPICAL DOESN'T MAKE HIM WEIRD OR WHATEVER A LOT OF PEOPLE ARE NEURODIVERGENT HAVE HIM BOND WITH PIDGE OVER IT UGHHHHH

anyway ive told you before you're the only one i trust with voltron you shall rewrite the show😌✌️

EDIT: i just realised how off topic i went... oops? i mean you covered it perfectly on the autistic coded thing. if they had done what you said he would have been such great rep but we all know how voltron is with that ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[miraculouscataclyyysm]

Part 10

link to part 9

This part is about just one episode, it’s quite important to the au wich is why Iv given it it’s own part, basically, Lila becomes the peacock miraculous holder, this all takes place after feast but before the battle of the miraculous

Lila is at the Agreste mansion getting tutored by Adrian sins she’s so behind *eye roll* she sees Nathalie faint and Gabriel take the peacock brooch  away from her, she follows Gabriel and sees him go into his secret evil villain layer 

Later she goes up to him and straight-up says “I’d make a much better Mayura than Nathalie” Gabriel is taken back by this “ don’t try denying it, Also I know Adrian isn’t the most perceptive guy but you might wanna try hiding all of this a bit better” Gabriel would be losing his shit right now if he wasn’t so impressed by the girls confidence (Gabriel she literally just called your son and idiot and your impresses? Da fuck)

Gabriel being the stupid, evil, sadistic, terrible father that he agrees to partner with Lila and gives Lila the peace miraculous whenever she will be useful (because that’s gonna end well)

The first time he calls her in to fight she takes full advantage of the situation to cause havoc for the class, she creates a sentimonster version of Adrian, Gabriel pulls Adrian out of school for the day for a modelling gig to keep him occupied, when felix asks what’s going on Nathalie just says “Gabriel has decided to focus more on adrians career, after all hes the real Agreste heir, Gabriel needs to put in some more training time with him so you’ll be driven to school alone” felix just closes his eyes for a second to proses that verbal slap across the face and says “right, I’ll be off then” he decides to walk to school and pick Marinette up his way while Lila sends senti monster Adrian to class

Sentimonster Adrian then walks into the art room where Mari and Alix are helping out marc and nath, it starts off fine, but then at lilas command senti-Adrian switches and starts calling bath and marcs work creepy and disgusting “this isn’t art it’s basically a toned-down version of stalking? Do you really think any of Paris’s heroes wanna see your creepy drawings, this is just fan fictions...neither of you are anything special” Mari is taken back by the outburst, this doesn't seem like the Adrian she's grown to know, Alix, on the other hand, is already at boiling point “like you'd now anything about art Agreste, you have as much depth as a glass of water, and for your information ladybug as seen there comic and loves it, she even asked for a signs comply when it’s complete” “then she clearly has no taste just like i already suspected” that’s when Mari sees this can’t be Adrian “Adrian I think you should leave” once he’s gone she turns to the other three and says “I don’t think that’s Adrian guys” nath-“what do you mean? That sure as hell looked a lot like Adrian to me” Mari-“when has Adrian ever said anything remotely bad about anyone? Especially ladybug?” Marc-“she has a point...we should find Alya, see if she can send lb a warning about a possible Akuma” as there talking Alix slowly backs out of the room to transform

After leaving the art room senti Adrian *being pupeted by Lila* went off to hurt as many people as possible and successfully caused juleka, Alya and max to be akumatised, the key insults *by Lila* being:

To Alya-“the fact you call yourself a real journalist is a joke, your nothing more than a half baked gossip blogger using her so-called hero for attention” to Juleka-“your pathetic, your just a scared, sad, emo princess that’s obsessed with her best friend and has no real opinions for herself *evil chuckle* or her own voice, speak juleka...just speak” to max- “you wanna know why your always alone?” Max-“but I’m not alw” “I’m speaking max! You're always alone because nobody likes a know it all, you make all your friends feel less than, you hurt everyone you love, that’s why you’ll always be alone, forever”

Once she’s transforms lb gets a call from bunnix “finally! Iv been try to get ahold of you for 2 whole minutes lb! We have a possible akuma at dupont” “have you gotten ahold of chat?” B-“radio silence” lb-“this isn’t good” B-“don’t stress red we can Handel an Akuma by ourselves” lb-“I don’t think it’s an Akuma though...I think it’s a sentimonster”

After 5 more minutes of failed calls to chat Lb tracks down Felix and tells him he needs to transform “I can’t get ahold of chat Noir and we have a big issue on our hands” “but there isn’t an Akuma” “but there will be...I BELIVE there’s a sentimonster in the school parading around as your cousin Adrian Agreste” felix just rolls his eyes “of course there is” lb-“ felix there’s no time for your broodyness, so drop the dramatics for now and transform...chop chop”

Chat shows up halfway threw the fight “I’m so sorry bugaboo, I was stuck at the other side of Paris, I couldn’t get away from my civilian duties and faster” lb-“it’s fine chat, Renard Arctique and bunnix have lady wifi, Reflekta and know it all (‘know it all’ is Max’s akumatised name, he has the ability to know everyone’s biggest insecurities and uses it against them making it the only thing they can think about) I kneed you help tracking down the sentimonster before it cases any more akuma’s” Chat-what’s the sentimonster of?” “Adrian Agreste” *chats giving lb the biggest oh shit face* they hunt down senti Adrian and after a major fight with himself (hehe) Chat and lb manage to defeat it, then they join Renard and bunnix to finish off the akumas

Yeah she was defeated but lila calls it a successful day, she managed to cause 3 akumas without really lifting a finger or damaging her own rep and proved her usefulness to Gabriel, she calls that a win in her book

The next day when Adrian walks into class with Felix, all eyes are on him, he try’s to apologise to the class but lila runs up to him pushing Chloe out of the way to engulf Adrian in a tight hug *chloes fully red in the face with rage* Mari leaning over to whisper to felix “this should be good”

lila- “it’s okay Adrian we know it wasn’t you! You’d never say such hurtful things to us” alix-“you weren’t even at school yesterday lie-la” lila-“that’s because that THING attacked me on my way to class, calling me all sorts of horrible things, but lucky I’m professionaly trained in yoga and was able to comtrol my emotions, I just had to run home and send ladybug a warning obviously alix” felix- “you’ve been professionaly trained to control you’re emotions yet you e been akumatizes about 5 times...what a joke” lila glares at felix

Sensing tension Adrian interjects “I’m still sorry everyone, I hate that something looking exactly like me hurts any of you, I’d never wanna case anyone of you pain” Chloe gets up and pulls Adrian out of lila’s tight hold “it’s okay adrikins we know that your the sweetest person alive anyone who believed that impostor is utterly ridiculous ” felix grones and murmurs “I’m gonna be sick” Mari smirking “want me to get you a bag”

After sitting down Nino says “don’t worry dude your friends know you, I never had a doubt about it, the second I overheard what it said to Alya I knew that wasn’t you, you wouldn’t hurt anyone” “thanks Nino” “no thanks necessary here bro, if you wanna thank someone it should be Marinette” looking shocked Mari interrupts “what? No! No no no you seriously don’t have to say anything, I was just doing what anyone else would do” Felix looked at his girlfriend and gave her a soft smile

Felix-“it’s true Adrian, she’s the one that talked Nathaniel and marc down after your evil doppelgänger verbally attacked them, then she told them it couldn’t be the real you, because you wouldn’t hurt s fly *trademark Felix eyeroll* she even got everyone to spread the word around school and got word to lb, she was a total hero” Marinette looks at Felix with a small smile and slight blush, Adrian breaks the soft AF moment by saying “I don’t know what to say Marinette, thank you, thank you for having so much faith in me” Mari-“of course I have faith in you, I know you, Adrian, you’re good person” jokingly she giggles and says “a little dens (talking about Kagami) but you have a good heart...down to your core”

After school Nino and Mari join Felix and Adrian at the mansion and chill around playing video games...okay so Felix technically  Doesn’t play any of the games he just sits next to Mari and watches as she demolishes Nino and Adrian at every single game, he can’t help thinking how beautiful she looks when her smile is wide and toothy, her face is slightly pink from yelling with excitement and her eyes are wide and bright...she’s the definition of beautiful

Link to part 11

Tags-

@lunar-wolf-warrior @bamagirl513 @persephonebutkore @charlietheepic7 @7-sage-7 @spicybelladonna @akana-sama @goggles-mcgee

Edit: link to art I made for this part

[bitob]

4 , 9 , 17 , 22 !

four: who is your most-used fc?

of the characters that i’ve played in the last... half a year to a year, i’d say there’s a pretty good mix, i don’t tend to favour one fc over the others... but long-term it’s definitely yoongi.

nine: tell me about your favorite group you ever joined

so this wasn’t on tumblr because a solid 9/10 of rps ive been in on tumblr have died way too fast for me to get attached, but there was one rp i was in in like... 2018? where i had a few rlly iconic plots including a one-sided rivalry to lovers, we-like-each-other-but-hes-always-in-another-country-and-also-im-a-coward (which lasted across like 5 diff groups and also was angsty but had moments of meme-y-ness such as how one of them woke the other up at like 3am when they were teens for an ‘emergency’ which was actually abt manga), the ‘babies’ (they were all like. 17-18. and bullied each other about crushes constantly), the ‘seize the means of production’ gang (dont ask it was so ridiculous sjgkshdk), the twelve idiots who spoke about three languages each and had equally many braincells between them (and one of them keeps harassing the rest with images of terrifying australian bugs). sometimes i go back and read through the threads just for fun bc i miss it that much.

edit: icb i forgot the star-trek-but-not-because-i-literally-had-no-knowledge-of-it-at-the-time group with the duct tape cult that one was also excellent

seventeen: name an fc you wish people used more

like,,, all of victon,,, why r there no gif icons of sejun from the last two years,,, i thought the rpc liked pretty people,,,

twenty-two: do you have any rp horror stories you’d be willing to share?

i have a very small handful but there is one that stuck with me for a long long time and that i’m still bitter about.

so on the site where my favourite rp occurred, my least favourite also occurred. i don’t recall when it was, but i think it was like, 2017? maybe 2016. and it was a high school rp, because of course it was, the plot was something like there r the regular kids and then also the delinquent kids who r there because no regular school will take them iirc, and it started off pretty good — i had characters i liked, plots i enjoyed, and i was helping to admin the rp — running the character & fc masterlists, things like that. and then the main admin dipped. so i was essentially running this thing on my own for about two weeks. and it was going great. and then she came back, and it all went to hell. because she appointed a few extra admins — and on this site that comes with actual privileges of moderation. and one of them i was cool with — she was a friend (at the time, bc the conglomeration of rpers who knew each other that joined that rp split apart in like... 2018? over some nazi apologist or not respecting people’s triggers). the second one, though, i didn’t know and she wasn’t officially appointed as a moderator? and she was going around changing things up and like. she had permission to from the main admin, which is fine! but the main admin didnt bother to like. tell me, the person who had been running the rp for the last nearly three weeks, that this person had the authority to do that. because ‘oh we’re childhood friends’. but then things settled down again, and everything was going well,,, until these two (the main admin & her buddy) thought it’d be fun to enact a plot along the lines of ‘these two people really hate each other, how about one of them shoots the other’ which got the group flagged by the site as 18+ bc fucking yikes and i was like. 15? small anyway. so naturally the website was like ‘no this group is adults-only u cant see it’ so i had to change my age on my profile to be able to actually see the group,, brought this up to the main admin she was just like ‘oh sorry lmao i cant do anything abt it’. so i got the fuck out of there after the other admins started getting on my case about not doing anything for like. a week. because like. i had put so much work into that group - formatting masterlist posts in html, generally running things (accepting characters, updating pages, etc). and i wasnt being acknowledged or respected at all. so yeah, bye.

another time she was running another group and me n one of my friends who had also sorta fallen out w her over her bullshit but were still pretending to be friends w her made a plot together that was basically ‘look if her and her friend are going to have their cliquey plots that affect the whole group why cant we’ which like. in hindsight was maybe not a great decision. but it was therapeutic and probably what she deserved.

[grimelords]

My March playlist is finished! This one is slightly more diverse than usual, swinging all the way from vibraphone jazz to Bhad Bhabie to black metal so I’ve taken the liberty of actually sequencing it properly for you. So if you’ve got 3 hours you can listen to this straight through and be taken for a hell of a ride. No matter what you like I’m sure you’ll find something in here that you love.

Tahiti - Milt Jackson: For an unknown reason I had a big jazz vibraphone phase this month and when you're talking jazz vibraphone you're talking the Wizard Of The Vibes himself, Milt Jackson. I feel insane even having an opinion on this but it's a shame that some of the best vibraphone performances were made at a time when the actual recording technology wasn't really there, they all have this very thin quality that I think misses a lot of the great character of the instrument.

Detour - Bill Le Sage: Like compare this from 1971 to Wizard Of The Vibes from 1952, the sounds is miles warmer and gives so much more of the full range and detail of the instrument. I also listened to this song five times in a row when I first heard it, the central refrain is just so fuckin good. Like I said, big vibes vibe and who knows why.

Blowin' The Blues Away - Buddy Rich And His Sextet: Superhuman playing aside, it's unbelievable how good these drums sound. The whole first minute just feels like a tour of each specific drum and I absolutely revel in it. I feel like flute and vibes is a relatively rare combo so it's extremely nice to hear Sam Most and Mike Manieri go ham in tandem.

Yama Yama - Yamasuki Singers: A friend sent me this song that he's had stuck in his head for ten years ever since it was in a beer ad from the days when beer ads were incredible strange for complicated legal reasons about not showing people enjoying the product or something https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ORfkh0OojxY and this incredible song is apparently from a 1971 French concept album where a couple of guys wrote a bunch of psychedelic songs in Japanese for an unknown reason that later became a massive drum and bass breaks album, and one of the guys was Thomas Bangalter from Daft Punk's dad! Music is crazy.

Alfonso Muskedunder - Todd Terje: I'm starting a petition to get Todd Terje to write the soundtrack for the next Mario Kart. I absolutely love this song and this whole album because it's so joyful and strange and it just sounds like nothing else I've ever heard. He seem to truly operate in a world entirely of his own.

Pala - Roland Tings: I love this song. It's like he wrote it with normal sounds and then went back and replaced every instrument with the party version. This song hands you a coconut and says welcome to the island where bad vibes are punishable by firing squad.

Keygen 13 - Haze Edit - Dubmood: There's a fucking album of keygen music on spotify and it's absolutely great and so good that someone's doing the work to recognize the value of the music this extremely weird scene produced and preserve it. If you don't know, back in the day when you pirated photoshop or whatever, you would download a license key generator which was a program made by extreme nerds who had cracked the license key algorithm to give you a fake one, and for unknown reasons they would make the keygen program play original chiptune music that someone in their nerd crew would compose. Who knows why but god bless them.

My Moon My Man (Boys Noize Remix) - Feist: The very concept of a Boys Noize remix of My Moon My Man is hilarious and it turns out it sounds absolutely amazing as well. Two great tastes that taste great together.

Low Blows - Meg Mac: I had a big Meg Mac phase this month too, listened to her album a lot and it's extremely solid. Great timing too cause her new one comes out in a month or so too. I really am excited to hear her next album because she's so good but I've always got this feeling that she hasn't reached her full potential yet, she's only going to get a million times better in an album or two.

Patience - Tame Impala: I love that the cover of this single is a pic of congas because it feels like that's the central thesis here. Kevin Parker bought some congas and is making disco Tame Impala now and I really couldn't be happier about it.

Unconditional (feat. Kitten) - Touch Sensitive: I love a 90s throwback done with love. There's nothing cynical or ironic about this it's just fun as hell!

Last Hurrah - Bebe Rexha: Get a fucking load of this Bebe Rexha song that interpolates Buy U A Drank by T-Pain for the chorus! It's a testament to how good that song is that she's using the verse melody as the chorus. T-Pain will quite literally never get the respect he deserves. Also this song goes for 2.5 minutes. There's something happening where pop songwriting is getting more and more compact, completely trimming the fat and ornamentation and it's very interesting.

Hi Bich - Bad Bhabie: Also I'm fully six months late on Hi Bich but I'm of the opinion that it's extremely fucking good. A perfect little reaction gif of a song and it only goes for 1m45!

Friends - Flume: I'm doubling down on my thesis about emo rap from last month but this song literally sounds like a Flume remix of a Hawthorne Heights song. The whole melody of it, the overlapping yelled/clean vocals. The lyrics obviously. I don't know it's just very odd how close it is. A sort of emo trojan horse to trick people into thinking The Used are cool again. 

How To Build A Relationship (feat. JPEGMAFIA) - Flume: I've been meaning to check out JPEGMAFIA (AKA Buttermilk Jesus AKA DJ Half-Court Violation AKA Lil' World Cup) for a while but this is the song that convinced me. There's just so much to digest in this. Every line is gold and delivered with massive conviction even when he realises it's total nonsense like 'dont call me unless I gave you my number'.

Bells & Circles (feat. Iggy Pop) - Underworld: Underworld alive 2019?? I love this song becuase Iggy Pop has been riding a fine line between punk provocateur and old man yells at cloud for a while now and this song is the perfect mix of both. You can't hijack airplanes and redirect them to cuba anymore and as a result it's over for liberal democracies. Just yelling about air travel for six minutes and it's good.

Guns Blazing (Drums Of Death Pt. 1) - UNKLE: This beat is some of my favourite DJ Shadow work I think. The menacing organ bass throughout, and especially the distorted drum freakout near the end. It's just great all the way through.

Homo Deus IV - Deantoni Parks: Another Deantoni Parks track like I was raving about last month. This whole album is great and flows together as a single piece of work amazingly. I love the purposefully limited sample palette of each track forcing an evolving groove throughout. He absolutely wrings every bit of variation he can get out of every single sound he uses and once you get into the groove of it it's absolutely mind blowing.

Boredom - The Drones: I love that The Drones can write a song about joining ISIS that's also a lot of fun. Spelling out radicalization in a way anyone can understand and sympathise with and then switching it in the second verse to spell out how we got into this situation anyway. 

Loinclothing - Hunters And Collectors: I love how much this song sounds like a voodoo celebration in christian hell.

The Fun Machine Took A Shit And Died - Queens Of The Stone Age: There's a good bit on the live dvd they put out after Lullabies To Paralyze where they play this song and they say it was supposed to be on the album but somebody stole the master recordings from the studio, which is an incredible and brazen crime. Then when they put it out on Era Vulgaris as a bonus track Josh Homme said in an interview "The tapes got lost. Actually, they were just at another studio, but we falsely accused everyone in the world of theft" which is extremely funny. This is really one of their best songs and I sort of really with it had been on Lullabies because it fits perfectly between The Blood Is Love and Someone's In The Wolf type of vibes, I love how it just kind of keeps shifting ideas and riffs throughout. An absolute jam overflowing with ideas.

10AM Automatic - The Black Keys: This song is an all time great in my opinion. It's so straightforward and so effective. I wonder if we'll get a blues rock revival ever or if Jack White still being alive and bad is souring everyone on that idea. This song also has one of my favourite guitar sounds in history I think - the outrageously huge sounding solo that comes out of nowhere and swallows up the rest of the mix like a swirling black hole near the end.

Gamma Knife - King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard: I've never gotten much into King Gizzard and because of their one million albums already it's hard to know where to start but I've been listening to Nonagon Infinity a bit and it's great, it's just good old fashioned 70s prog jams front to back.

Gina Works At Hearts - DZ Deathrays: I absolutely love this song and I absolutely love the second guitar sound in the chorus of this song that sounds like it's made out of thin steel.

Black Brick - Deafheaven: When I saw Deafheaven the other month I was right up the front and it was a life changingly great experience AND they played this new song live for the first time before it went up everywhere like three hours later which was very exciting to be given a sclusie like that. After they finished a guy behind me whispered to his friend "Slayer..." which was very funny to me.

Gemini - Elder: I found this band because one of my Spotify Daily Mixes was all stoner metal for a while, which is a good genre to see all lined up because it'll have Weedeater, Bongripper AND Uncle Acid & The Deadbeats right there in a row for you. Anyway this album is extremely good, the very best kind of stoner metal where it's groovy and fun and has big meaty riffs and ripping big solos and it's extremely easy to listen to three times in a row.

The Paradise Gallows - Inter Arma: My big obsession the past little while has been Inter Arma ever since Stereogum posted The Atavist's Meridian from their new album. It is just so fucking good and I can't believe I've never heard of them before. You know when you find out about an amazing band and then you find out they've been around for nearly ten years and you can't believe everyone in your life has been selfishly hiding them from you?

The Atavist's Meridian - Inter Arma: I think a big part of my enjoyment of this band has also been that I discovered them at the same time as I'm listening to an audiobook of the complete Conan The Barbarian omnibus so I'm very much in the brain space for music that sounds like it would be nice to swing an axe to.

Untoward Evocation - Impetuous Ritual: I love how halfway through this kind of just turns into a big swirling mist of dark sounds. It feels so formless and dark that it could just shake apart and dissipate at any moment and you'd look down to realise your skin is gone.

Eagle On A Pole - Conor Oberst: from Genius: 'In an interview with MTV news, Oberst stated “We were on the bus one day and a friend of ours that travels with us and works for the band kind of came out from the back of the bus and said that first line: ‘Saw an eagle on a pole… I think it was an eagle.’ And then this guy Simon Joyner, who is a great songwriter from Omaha and one of my great friends, he was on tour with us and sitting there and he was like, ‘You know, that’s a great name for a song.’ We kind of had a contest where he wrote a song with that first line, and [then] I did, and a couple of our other friends. We kind of all played them for each other. Simon’s is better than mine, but it is a good line to start a song.” Another version–Mystic Valley Band drummer Jason Boesel’s interpretation–is on the next album, Outer South.' The idea that such a good song has such a braindead origin only makes me love it more.

Lake Marie - John Prine: When I saw John Prine the other month he played this song that I had never heard before and I had to look it up after and now I'm completely obsessed with it. It feels like falling asleep during a movie and missing a critical plot point so the rest doesn't make sense when you wake up but is thrilling nonetheless. Also he absolutely screamed "SHADOWS!!!" when he played it which was a fucking cool thing to see a 72 year old man do.

Little White Dove - Jenny Lewis: The drums on this whole album are absolutely huge for some reason and I love it. My favourite recent sound is in the first chorus where there's a funny little pitch correction noise as she sings 'dove'. It's very strange and very very good.

Locked Up - The Ocean Party: I only found out The Ocean Party existed as they announced their farewell show this month which is a real shame but I'm glad I got to hear of them at all because they're very good. A very good song about that feeling we all know and love: driving for a long long time.

Plain & Sane & Simple Melody - Ted Lucas: I found out about this song from Emma Ruth Rundle's Amoeba Records video and she makes a good point about this whole album sounding like something's gone wrong and it got accidentally pitched down slightly in the recording process. It's unclear if that's what happened or that's just how he sounds but it adds a very softly spooky undercurrent to a very nice song.​ 

listen here

[crystalinn]

I haven’t posted about this here yet, but boy howdy has my life been A Mess™️ of late.

TW: medical talk, high stress situations, mentions of blood under the cut

This is a very long post, so a mild TL;DR: ma’s sick and this is me for eternity now (loud noises in video): 

Picture it. November 10th (ish. Time is hard.). The motherbeast came down with a case of viral bronchitis. She got a few days off work to recover. 

A couple days pass. She went back to work. Her manager sent her in the cooler for two hours. 

An immediate downturn ft. a fall out of bed that took 45 minutes to fix, heavy panting, confusion, the whole lot. She went to the Express ER. They said “oh hey, your viral bronchitis has become full blown pneumonia. You’re goin’ to the Real Hospital™️ for two days. See if you respond well.” Turns out, she did, at first. 

About a week or two of what seemed like solid improvement all came crashing back down when her return to work arrived. She went back to work... or tried to. She went to step onto the curb and gravity said no. She faceplanted the pavement, and the ambulance was called. A thorough concussion check later, and her manager drove her and her truck home. The next day, she went back to the Express ER, and they said “oh shit, your lung xray is worse than last time. Back to the Hospital for you.” 

That stay was nine days long. She was tested for tuberculosis (which came back negative, thankfully), and had a PICC line installed. During said stay, she did get rather confused and agitated, as it was near the end of the month and the rent needed paid. She called me in the middle of the night, asking me to move her IV... despite me being at home. So that was a thing.

After she came home on the 4th of this month (December), I had to start administering her PICC line antibiotics, every 8 hours. Did y’all know that cefepime (a bigboi antibiotic) smells like someone doing unholy things to eggs? Sulfuric smelling bullshit, that. Had some hiccups there, what with massive air bubbles in the line and getting the infusion orb stuck on the line. We were supposed to be done the 25th. Then she went to her new primary care doctor, and it was extended to the 6th of January, which h.

Anyway, fast forward to the 23rd. Mum was out with a pal, getting some groceries, and some Miralax ‘cause... y’know, and she fell on her ass. At this point, falling down is like a glowing neon red flag. She came home, was a bit wobbly, but was generally okay. Her primary care doctor called after the home health nurses stole some blood to tell her that her potassium levels are critical. A friend/my ‘adopted’ brotherbeast, Frank, brought her a fuckton of bananas that night. 

Now this is where it gets real fuckin’ spicy. The morning of the 24th, after we get done with the 7am orb, I gave her a dose of Miralax. She was fine, until the 3pm orb, when severe gut cramps showed up. Those lasted until about midnight when things... moved along. After that, shit went downhill fast. I put her to bed after orb times at 11 pm, and she kept waking up. As time went on, she got more and more confused. Like, she knew general things, in a kinda slow way, but she could not follow directions. On the morning of the 25th (fucking Christmas.), things had reached its boiling point. She was very confused, unable to focus, slurring words. I rang up a friend, Sandy (who has been a massive help this whole time of Fuckery), to get her to the ER. This triggered a complete meltdown. It took both of us to get her out of her chair, not to mention the sudden burst of confused crying and begging not to go. 

We finally managed to get her there, and the ER’s like “yo this looks like a stroke, so we’re gonna keep her, do an MRI or three, and get back to you.” Turns out she was very dehydrated, currently has a UTI, and is still a bit... shall we say, fucked up. But, the MRI came out clean, but there was some issue with the PICC with like, a blood clot, but they cleaned it out, so they let her go on the 26th. 

But just wait for it... I put her to bed pretty much as soon as she got home, ‘cause she doesn’t sleep in the hospital. Makes sense, right? I went to check on her at about 8, and she was unable to really comply with requests/commands/questions. I’d ask “what’s your name?”, I’d get her name (most of the time), but when I’d ask “when’s your birthday?”, I’d get her name again. Or the fact she lost her PICC line cap, and I’d ask her to hold the newly sterilized port so it wouldn’t touch anything, she’d say okay, take it, and immediately drop it. Repeatedly. 

I broke down whilst on the phone with my dad because everything has been too much of late, and eventually put her back to bed to wait for the 11pm orb. 

11pm rolled around... and well. I couldn’t get her to wake up. She’d react to me poking and prodding her by making noise and moving away, but she would not wake up. Not properly. So, I called the on call home health nurse to see if she could help, and she pretty much told me to just call an ambulance. Not wanting the expense because I live in Hell the US, I called my dad. He helped me try to wake her up over the phone, but she flat refused. I was left with no choice. So, I called the ambulance, and just before they knocked on the door, she sat up like “huh?” but extra confused. She almost didn’t go to the hospital because she said “nah, I don’t want to go” but one of the EMTs was like “nah, you gotta go.”

So, she spent about 8 hours in the ER, and they told me that they can’t keep her since she was mostly lucid, but they did float an Idea (a skilled nursing facility, at least until she got her ducks in a row) to her that was immediately denied, but with some prodding from me, she finally agreed. So they moved her upstairs from the ER to keep her until they can find a facility in the Blue Cross/Blue Shield network that’s reasonably local. The one that came to visit yesterday turned out to not be, and I’m pretty sure the dude kicked it back to the Case Supervisor to see if they can find another. But, after they moved her into her room, she’s cleared up quite a bit. 

She’s still a bit slow on the uptake sometimes, a bit unfocused, and can get caught out in the grapes mentally, but she has improved a lot. 

Oh, and another thing she’s been doing is fighting me re: eating since the first go around. Bread’s a texture issue, rice is hard to eat without teeth, and everything else “smells bad” (which, since she’s quit smoking as of that second hospital stay... I understand, but you gotta sometimes push past that.) I did manage bananas though. Thank fuck for those. 

But, back to the plot: today (the 28th) was a decent day. Much clearer, less starts and stops in her speech. A bit more focused. She didn’t manage to sleep last night, so she was kinda tired. Had another MRI, but we won’t know about that until probably tomorrow (the 29th). Maybe. Had some PICC issues, though. The nurse got the cefepime running just fine, then mum had to use the bathroom, and when she came out, the machine started screaming bloody murder. After that, the nurse came back and tried to flush the line, since the cefepime was unable to run, and when she took the syringe off, the saline shot right back out... which ain’t supposed to happen. Hit me, the nurse, mum, the bed... probably got the windows too. So they’re working on that, and hopefully they figure it out.

Had my own woes at the hospital today, too. The sole of my boot fell off, so my ride/friend/adopted sister?, Sandy, went to walmart and got me some Heavy Duty Superglue, which I got it about half way stuck before we had to leave... then when we were pulling into the parking lot at home, the nurse in charge called to ask some questions about the PICC, the antibiotic, how long it’d been there, how long she was supposed to be on it, the pharmacy’s number, all that. So I went to get out of the car, my coke bottle fell out of my pocket, started rolling under the car, and I overextended. Fell right on my knees. They are not happy. Took a hot minute to get my dumb ass off the ground, without hurting Sandy, who is like 5′2″ and v smol. I am 5′6″ and... decidedly not. Plus the bonus rain.

UPDATE 12/29/2019: the diverticulitis has made a reappearance. It’s like everything is just It’s free real estate.

UPDATE 12/31/2019: Around 2 am this morning, she managed to roll out of bed and whack her head pretty good on something. They did a CT scan, and it came out clean. No concussion. However, now she has a sitter/keeper/minder to make sure she doesn’t do it again. It’s a good thing the nurses heard her fall, ‘cause despite being armed, the bed alarm didn’t go off. I know of all of this, ‘cause the hospital called me at 3 this morning, and boy howdy that’s a gut drop, let me tell you. But, better a CT ride and a bump on her noggin vs. the alternative. Sure is one thing after a-fucking-nother, ain’t it though.

UPDATE 1/1/2020: 2019 keep your problems challenge: she's had a major mental shift again, and now she's really groggy, really confused... So the hospital moved her to the ICU and called me for consent on a spinal tap, just to make sure they're not missing anything. Other than that, they've done x-rays and another CT, I think to check her spine, hips, the one leg she's been having issues with. The doctors also think that it may be the cefepime causing this altered mental state, and after doing some digging, boy howdy I sure believe it. Cephalosporins are some nasty fuckers.

So! That’s been my month and a half! I’d like to take a break now, please!

EDIT: Further updates found here.

[e8luhs]

IVORY TOWER.

LISTEN ON SPOTIFY (I GUESS)

YOU KNOW THE DRILL BY NOW (last edited 04.27.19)

I. POOLS / GLASS ANIMALS

shake my little soul for you now, toy and i settle up into a world of noise i’m a man of many tricks and tools and joy with a battery of guilt on which to poise

II. KATARSIS / SHE PAST AWAY

even though it is a dream you are with me tonight inside me

III. BELA LUGOSI’S DEAD / BAUHAUS

white on white, translucent black capes back on the rack bela lugosi's dead the bats have left the bell tower, the victims have been bled red velvet lines the black box

IV. THE TOWER / VIRTUAL BOY

[instrumental]

V. ONLY AS GOOD AS MY GOD / EVERYTHING EVERYTHING

if they crawl out of the mud, wash them away in a flood i'm only as a good as my god, burnt hair and more money

VI. HERE / VAST

where do i put the books? there's so many i could read, but they all are filled with lies where do i put all the lies? there's so many i could say but it seems they're in the books

VII. RED RIGHT HAND / ARCTIC MONKEYS

you'll see him in your nightmares, you'll see him in your dreams he'll appear out of nowhere but he ain't what he seems you'll see him in your head, on the TV screen and hey buddy, i'm warning you to turn it off! he's a ghost, he's a god, he's a man, he's a guru you're one microscopic cog in his catastrophic plan designed and directed by his red right hand

VIII. TOES / GLASS ANIMALS

i'm a man, i'm a twisted fool my hands are twisted, too five fingers to black hooves i'm a man, don't spin me a lie got toes and i can smile i'm crooked but upright

IX. KICKING AND SCREAMING / THE PRESETS

when i was young i was a star amongst zeroes but then i grew up and now i'm heading up river i'm gonna cover myself in mud, mud yeah, i'mma deliver

X. AMERICAN TRASH / INNERPARTYSYSTEM

i've got this planet in my hands yeah, i'll try to save it if i can i'm satisfied with myself don't care for anyone else i'm so united when i stand

XI. MURDOC IS GOD / GORILLAZ

murdoc is god murdoc is god murdoc is god johnny is dead

XII. ALL MY OWN STUNTS / ARCTIC MONKEYS

been watching cowboy films on gloomy afternoons tinting the solitude put on your dancing shoes and show me what to do i know you've got the moves

XIII. PAINT IT, BLACK / THE ROLLING STONES

i look inside myself and see my heart is black i see my red door i must have it painted black maybe then i'll fade away and not have to face the facts it's not easy facin' up, when your whole world is black

XIV. RUH / SHE PAST AWAY

half an angel, half a monster i will sleep in your bosom again half an angel, half a monster i will roam to where you are

XV. FIGURE IT OUT / ROYAL BLOOD

getting hard to sleep, but it's in my dreams but it's killing me to try and figure it out nothing better to do, when i'm stuck on you and still i'm here trying to figure it out

XVI. PERSONAL JESUS / DEPECHE MODE

feeling unknown and you're all alone flesh and bone by the telephone lift up the receiver, i'll make you a believer

XVII. LIFE ITSELF / GLASS ANIMALS

daddy was dumb, said that i’d be something special  brought me up tough but i was a gentle human said that he loved each of my two million freckles when i grew up, was gonna be a superstar

XVIII. BUSINESS MAN / MOTHER MOTHER

talking ‘bout the business man, devil in a sunday hat buddy with the stupid laugh, just talking ‘bout the business man

XIX. IT’S OUT THERE AND IT’S GONNA GET YOU / THE PAPER CHASE

[instrumental]

XX. HAPSBURG LIPPP / EVERYTHING EVERYTHING

i'm checking your name off my list, i'm checking your name on my list i'm making up a reason to exist, i'm checking your name off my list you're thinking that your wife is worth a lot i'm telling you your life is worth a yacht no matter whose knife in the dark, still wanking with a robot arm i'm checking your name off my list, i'm checking your name off my list i'm making up a reason to exist, i'm checking your name off my list

XXI. HOW TO SERVE MAN / CREATURE FEATURE

let me clarify before we begin am i getting under your skin? your disposition seems a trifle bland it's time you learned how to serve man

XXII. W.U.G. / CHRIS FLEMING

he’s only comfortable with complete control and authority they should invent something for guys with this kind of affliction like a vr system  where he can believe he’s in a perpetual state of giving you a tour of his house

XXIII. RADIO / ROBBIE WILLIAMS

something's happening, i can feel it moving out of time you'll hear it falling in the way you fear it jumping, thumping, shout out something jumping, thumping, shout out something

XXIV. A NEW SKY / THE PRESETS

and it's alright, it won't be long you feeling something so won't you come outside with me? and it's alright, sing like a song and now you're flying so won't you come and fly with me?

XXV. ASIMILASYON / SHE PAST AWAY

protect yourself, this plague spreads spiders everywhere come on, dig your grave look, the day wakes up again

XXVI. ANIMAL IMPULSES / IAMX

i'm tired of this human duet no civilizing hides our animal impulses

XXVII. EXXUS / GLASS ANIMALS

i can see you running i can see you running gone in the blink of my eye gone, gone, gone in the blink of my eye

XXVIII. NOCTURNE IN F MINOR / FREDERIC CHOPIN

[instrumental]

XXIX. BABY BRIDE RAG / ROAR

oh darling, i'm not so sure about our hearts aligning at sixteen years old, could this just be bad timing? puppies pining listen to me sweetheart, you are nothing when we're apart i can promise you this, when we split the town you won't be missed

XXX. WHO IS SHE? / I MONSTER

oh, who is she? a misty memory a haunting face is she a lost embrace?

XXXI. I WILL POSSESS YOUR HEART / DEATH CAB FOR CUTIE

there are days when outside your window i see my reflection as i slowly pass and i long for this mirrored perspective when we'll be lovers, lovers at last

XXXII. GO-GETTER GREG / LUDO

i've given it some thought... and i really think that you could use a guy like me in your life looking after you, a man to take you home, a hand for you to hold... and i'd never leave you alone

XXXIII. AN UNHEALTHY OBSESSION / THE BLAKE ROBINSON SYNTHETIC ORCHESTRA

some call it stalking, i say walking just extremely close behind i'm sure if i sat down and asked you, well you really wouldn't mind you've got those eyes that drive me crazy and i've got eyes to watch you sleep i brought a pack lunch and some coffee for my stakeout in your tree outside your house

XXXIV. NEIGHBOUR / MOTHER MOTHER 

i am your neighbor, i can hear you i got this tin can with a string through and when you're crying, i hear your shaky breath and when you're lying i hear your heart confess

XXXV. OBSESSION / OK GO

a look so quick a movement so slight ah, it’s not passin’ fascination now it’s obsession

XXXVI. STALKER’S TANGO / AUTOHEART

i know, i know, i know, i'm always in your place but don't you see, my dear? i am your doppelgänger have your faith so

XXXVII. DEADCRUSH / ALT-J

extraordinarily pretty teeth beauty lingers out of reach you're my dc oh lee, oh man ray went cray cray over you capturing, but never captured you're my dc oh lee, oh

XXXVIII. CLUB FOOT / KASABIAN

i tell you i want you i tell you i need you

XXXIX. TEAR YOU APART / SHE WANTS REVENGE

i want to hold you close skin pressed against me tight lie still, and close your eyes girl so lovely, it feels so right

XL. PRETTY WHEN YOU CRY / VAST

i didn't want to hurt you, baby i didn't want to hurt you i didn't want to hurt you, but you're pretty when you cry

XLI. DINNER & DIATRIBES / HOZIER

that's the kind of love i’ve been dreaming of that's the kind of love i've been dreaming of

XLII. BERNADETTE / IAMX

you and me in our playhouse living in a veil, we never need to go without memories bring no joy or peace we are alone and all we need

XLIII. THIS HURTS / MINDLESS SELF INDULGENCE

oh, god i'm beautiful oh, god i'm wonderful i'm marvelous, intelligent, so why doesn't that make me feel better? i need some more, i need someone who's insecure i don't care who you are controlling you makes me better

XLIV. YANIMDA / SHE PAST AWAY

they wouldn't know, wouldn't comprehend you are with me, next to me

XLV. THE HORROR OF OUR LOVE / LUDO

i'm a killer, cold and wrathful silent sleeper, i've been inside your bedroom i've murdered half the town left you love notes on their headstones i'll fill the graveyards until i have you

XLVI. WE KNOW WHERE YOU SLEEP / THE PAPER CHASE

i don't know about you but i am hellbent, i know what it is that i must do close your eyes when we kiss ‘cause I'm prepared to set myself on fire for this

XLVII. WHAT ELSE DO I NEED / VAST

i know that you don't like me that's alright today i love you, but you bore me don't fuck up my day ‘cause i could stay right here and never ever leave, what else do i need?

XLVIII. YOU ARE MINE / MUTEMATH

there are objects of affection that can mesmerize the soul there is always one addiction that just can not be controlled

XLIX. WALLA WALLA / GLASS ANIMALS

honey honey, don’t you cry it’s a ruse all these creatures are a lie funny bunny, it’s alright i clap my hands and they’re gone into the night

L. TEMPTATION / VAST

i stand alone now, istand alone but can you save me from myself oh, please

LI. BIT BY BIT / MOTHER MOTHER

no i won’t bring too much of anything maybe a little slicker for the rain maybe just a good book and a heart to break Ii’ll make a mistress of a little wiccan thing

LII. COUNTING BODIES LIKE SHEEP TO THE RHYTHM OF THE WAR DRUMS / A PERFECT CIRCLE

don't fret precious, i'm here step away from the window, go back to sleep safe from pain and truth and choice and other poison devils see, they don't give a fuck about you like i do

LIII. STALKER / IAMX

i know you're aching to be saved from all the bullshit and banality sacredly i have watched you grow you've conquered all the self-loathing and high hopes

LIV. UNDER MY THUMB / THE ROLLING STONES

it's down to me, yes it is the way she does just what she's told down to me, the change has come she's under my thumb

LV. CHRISTMAS KIDS / ROAR

appearing unsightly with devils inside me if you ever try to leave me i'll find you, ronnie

LVI. GENGHIS KHAN / MIIKE SNOW

i get a little bit genghis khan i don't want you to get it on with nobody else but me, with nobody else but me

LVII. HAPPY TOGETHER / FILTER

imagine me and you, i do i think about you day and night it's only right to think about the girl you love and hold her tight so happy together

LVIII. TOUCHED / VAST

the razors and the dying roses plead i don't leave you alone, the demi-gods and hungry ghosts god, god knows i'm not at home i’ll never find someone quite like you again

LIX. STOP A BULLET / BLACK LIGHT BURNS

i've got something to say i've acquired a taste for watching you in pain it's pretty hard to admit it makes me feel like shit but i mean it

LX. DANGEROUS / BIG DATA

you understand, i got a plan for us i bet you didn’t know that i was dangerous it must be fate, i found a place for us i bet you didn’t know someone could love you this much

LXI. CAN’T DO / EVERYTHING EVERYTHING

he said it's up to me it's up to me, it's up to me, it's up to me, i gotta try it again! it's up to me, it's up to me, it's up to me, i gotta rip it apart! It's up to me, it's up to me, it's up to me

LXII. THE STICKS / MOTHER MOTHER

i'm getting on a mountain, baby, yeah i'm thinking of an island, maybe oh, archipelago, take me i'm looking to isolate me, terra incognita, baby i'm getting away from all the la-di-dah, la-di-dah

LXIII. ISOLATION / THE SMASHING PUMPKINS

but if you could just see the beauty, these things i could never describe these pleasures a wayward distraction, this is my one lucky prize

LXIV. BEEKEEPER / KEATON HENSON

believe me believe me, this loneliness won't go away hear me oh, woman that has gone astray gone astray

LXV. IVORY TOWER / EVERYTHING EVERYTHING

do you know what makes me happy? when i clothe you in a swarm of bees and the world is my ashtray, the world is my ashtray tonight shave my head and call me monkey let me see you with the caps lock on if we're all apoplectic then i'll be the neckbeard, alright?

LXVI. ANOTHER SET OF ISSUES / OK GO

it all seemed so perfect it all seemed like everything was right but i won’t let you leave that way, but i won’t let you but i won’t let you, but i won’t let you leave that way but i won’t let you, but i won’t let you leave

LXVII. BREEZEBLOCKS / ALT-J

do you know where the wilds things go? they go along to take your honey, la la la la break down now weep, build up breakfast now let’s eat my love my love love love, la la la la

LXVIII. DUST IN YOUR POCKET / GLASS ANIMALS

yellow nails and pinching fangs, a slimy creature lacking clad, he pulls his fingers from her mind, and lets her see, just like she was blind

LXIX. KRONOS / KEATON HENSON

i'd give you all i have if i could get it back this has been the best of me i hope you end up missing me and i'll hold on to that

LXX. I COME WITH KNIVES / IAMX

i come with knives i come with knives and agony to love you

LXXI. GREENER / TALLY HALL

telephones make you seem miles away from home all alone, i get a little meaner i leave a message at your tone, and miles away from home you get a little cleaner of me and i find a little greener shade of envy

LXXII. PROPERTY / SAY ANYTHING

don't you go leaving baby, i'll find you tell all your secrets and no one will want you it's for your own good, i know what's best for you if you won't sleep with me, there will be no rest for you

LXXIII. DESIRE / EVERYTHING EVERYTHING

i want this planet and i want it now to beat like an anvil 'til the poison's out i am a pencil-pusher with the pencil-pusher blues what the hell do i have left to lose?

LXXIV. PSYLLA / GLASS ANIMALS

i wanna make it right i wanna make you cry i follow suit, i follow suit i follow suit, i follow

LXXV. SLEDGEHAMMER / SAVANT

[instrumental]

LXXVI. SHUT ME UP / MINDLESS SELF INDULGENCE

the bass, the rock, the mic, the treble i like my coffee black just like my metal with the bass, the rock, the mic, the treble i like my coffee black just like my metal

LXXVII. SOMEWHERE ELSE TO BE / VAST

i wish i could hide from everyone is there somewhere else to be is there somewhere else to be take me in, i want out that's all i need

LXXVIII. CHOKE / I DON’T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

now shut your dirty mouth, if i could burn this town i wouldn't hesitate to smile while you suffocate and die and that would be just fine, and what a lovely time that it would surely be so bite your tongue and choke yourself to sleep

LXXIX. PATHETIC / BLAME CANDY

1460 days since we were alright you're having trouble sleeping, and i think i know why 1460 days since we were alright but now you're just pathetic, i said it you are pathetic

LXXX. NO CULTURE / MOTHER MOTHER

so can we let sleeping dogs lie? 'cause everyone believes me when i say it's mine a little wool over the eyes 'cause everyone believes me when i-

LXXXI. BLACK WEDDING / IN THIS MOMENT

i would've loved you for a thousand years i would've died for you i would've sacrificed it all my dear i would've bled for you 'til death do us part, you were unholy right from the start it's a nice night for a black wedding yeah, it's a nice night for a black wedding

LXXXII. DESTRUCTION / JOYWAVE

creeping 'round, i saw a little thing i didn't like; you tried to hide i've been creeping 'round i saw a little thing i didn't like, you tried to hide from me

LXXXIII. INTRUXX / GLASS ANIMALS

[instrumental]

LXXXIV. BREADWINNER / EVERYTHING EVERYTHING

hard liquor is my medicine it must have happened when i hit my head hard liquor for my birthday cake power, power, power, power, power

LXXXV. I CAN’T DECIDE / SCISSOR SISTERS

i'm not a gangster tonight don't want to be a bad guy i'm just a loner baby and now you've gotten in my way

LXXXVI. WITHER / SON LUX

you don't have to be afraid you don't have to be afraid like the grass beneath your feet, they will wither away

LXXXVII. WAIT UNTIL I GET MY HANDS ON YOU / THE PAPER CHASE

so go ahead, hold your breath be my guest, see if i care ‘cause it's your life, it's your body in the morning what's it to you, my sweet bijou? ‘cause if you knew what was good for you you'd stand there lowborn to drop every rampart and drawbridge

LXXXVIII. KILLER / THE HOOSIERS

i hate my work, but i'm in control i'm fearless now, but it cost my soul save yourselves, the moon is full under its power, gravitational pull

LXXXIX. WYRD / GLASS ANIMALS

you can’t run so you must hide you won’t make it back this time i sold your rope for a bucket of lemon peel, now suck it

XC. I’M DYING / VAST

not one day goes by that i don't compromise your love for the cold love of the world it's killing me through my own evil pride not one day goes by  that i don't know that i'm dying

XCI. DEAR DICTATOR / SAINT MOTEL

and at the trial, there'll be no jury and all the dead are going to play witness it's not too late to say you're sorry but it's too late to truly mean it

XCII. GET OUT THE WAY / MOTHER MOTHER

i'm not anti-social i'm just tired of the people and i'm fine with rolling solo so get out

XCIII. SEVERED / THE DECEMBERISTS

i alone am the answer i alone will make wrongs right but in order to root out the cancer it's got to be kept from the sunlight

XCIV. NOBODY LOVES YOU LIKE ME / JONATHAN COULTON

air in my lungs, a cough and a wheeze holes in the bellows and blood on the keys you move along, there's nothing to see nobody loves you like me nobody loves you like me

XCV. TRUE ROMANCE / SHE WANTS REVENGE

when could you tell it was over? when did you turn on me? i'd cry if i thought it would change your mind, cry for the girl i hoped you to be

XCVI. YOU’RE ONE OF THEM, AREN’T YOU? / THE PAPER CHASE

and i believe, i believe, i believe you're one of them you're one of those things so go on and scream all you want 'cause that only excites me i'm aiming this plane for the sea, i'm taking you all with me so suffer little children, suffer little children suffer little children come and get me!

XCVII. DANCE TO THE DEATH / KINGDOM HEARTS 2 OST

[instrumental]

XCVIII. THE HOUSE IS DUST / EVERYTHING EVERYTHING

i wish i could be living at the end of all living just to know what happens, just to know what happens i would know every answer and just how far we all made it this is all my life this is all my life

XCIX. A DEATH / AN UNKINDNESS

inevitability, you are my mother bleeding seeds of sour lust onto the mounds of bleeding crust unto all that holy dust i shall return, bathed in fire

C. YUPPIE SUPPER / EVERYTHING EVERYTHING

[instrumental]

[boymeetsweevil]

blue, not blanc - nsfw

Grouping: Reader x Jimin, SMUT wow

Word Count: ~4.5k 

Warnings: straight up sex, fingering, panty fetish perhaps? breathplay if you squint?? DEFINITELY NSFW

Based off the following prompt :) 

1.5 months before

Jimin was cooking dinner, like the good fiancé he was. You slid into a seat at the breakfast bar and sighed, hoping he would turn around to see what you needed. When he merely hummed in greeting you were forced to cut to the chase.

“I have a favor to ask you,” your sheepish tone finally made him to look up from the red sauce he had been painstakingly simmering, “I need you to be my date for the black and white investment dinner. I’m letting you know now so you can’t say you already made plans.”


“How do you know I don’t already have plans?”


“Jimin, please. Its a month and a half from now and we know you don’t plan that far ahead.”


“Maybe I should start.” He stuck his tongue out at you before turning back to his precious marinara.


“You can start by making sure you have a suit. And it has to be white.”

“Why does it have to be white? Isn’t that too...Las Vegas or something?”


“Its white because the firm chooses the color scheme. This year the investors wear black and the firm employees wear white. It’s an annual thing. Please.”


Jimin sighed, but didn’t argue further. You came as his date to all the horrible holiday parties they hosted every year at the newspaper. You even bought an ugly sweater the year he had been trying to suck up to his boss for a promotion. To this day he’s convinced that heinous wool article is what got him his current position of junior editor.

“What color should the tie be?” He walked over to your spot at the kitchen table, one hand cupped beneath the wooden spoon he held in the other. You leaned in to try it before flashing a thumbs up when it didn’t seem to be lacking any specific ingredient.


“The tie doesn’t have to be a specific color as long as it goes with your suit and my dress,” you froze mid sentence, “Shit. I need a dress.” You were quiet for a few beats as you watched him hunt around for the chili pepper flakes before calling his name sweetly. Too sweetly.


“What is it now?”


“I have such a bad migraine that if I so much as look at another screen tonight, I’ll cry. Do you think maybe you could possibly buy the dress for me after dinner? From that French store where you bought that scarf you got me?”


“Sure.”


“Great. I’ll send you the links. Oh, I need their no-show underwear too. It’s better than going commando, I swear,” you said cheerfully as you pulled out your phone.


“I thought your head was going to explode if you looked at another screen.”


“How else am I going to send you the links, Minnie?”


He raised an incredulous eyebrow and put a steaming plate in front of you.

“So, do I have to buy them tonight or can it wait a little. I’m waiting on a call from Taehyung about the parts for that vintage coffee maker I’ve been working on.”


“Well,” you chewed your noodles thoughtfully, “I guess as long as you don’t wait longer than 2 weeks. Everything always sells out of that shop really fast so you have to be quick about it, especially the underwear. I would buy it myself but my boss has been working me to the bone with reviewing these new manuscripts.”


“Leave it to me.”


24 days following

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” he muttered to himself.

Jimin felt anxious sweat begin to prick at his hairline as he read your messages over and over again. He checked his calendar and grimaced when he saw that there were less than 3 weeks until the dinner and he still hadn’t ordered your clothes like you’d asked him to.

Once his order was called, he took his drink and sprinted out of the coffee shop he had been working in to drive back to his apartment where he’d left his laptop.

Your warning about items selling out and customs holding packages for an extra long time haunted him as he scoured his texts for the links you’d sent a little less than a month ago.

Jackpot.

He opened your laptop and carefully typed in the name of the dress you had bookmarked and sent to him. It was a nice dress, he noted, as he clicked on the drop-down menu and scrolled through the color available color options. When his cursor landed on the color IV (for ivory, as detailed in your text) he said a small thank you to the forces of the universe above. He added the dress to the cart and went to the search bar again to find the underwear. He blew out another breath of relief when he saw that the famous no-show panties weren’t all sold out. 

He searched for ivory again but he couldn’t find it. Is it sold out? How could it be sold out? All that’s left is BL. What’s BL. BL...for blanc because its french for white and ivory is white. I’m a genius. he pat himself on the back as he put the underwear in his cart and entered his card number. He had to grit his teeth when he saw the large chunk of change it would cost him to expedite shipping, but he supposed it was a meager price to pay for almost missing out on buying your dress after you’d asked so far in advance. 10 days later, Jimin received the package and called you to let you know that as soon as you finished your last manuscript you should hurry over and try on the dress to see if it needed any alterations. You swung by one morning later in the week to try on the dress in his en suite on your way to work. 

“Does it fit,” he asked in a half yawn as he leaned against the bathroom door. He nearly fell on his face when you swung the door open and handed him the haphazardly folded dress because you were running late.


“Yep. See you back here Friday! Make sure your suit is ready,” you shouted before swinging his door closed.


The day

Friday rolled around too quickly for comfort. You had barely gotten 2 days to rest from non-stop reading and editing before you had to commute to Jimin’s immediately after work. 

“Who the fuck schedules a gala at 7:30 on a Friday”, you had fumed to yourself earlier during rush hour.

Currently, Jimin was brushing his teeth in the bathroom frantically, dress shirt still half open, only briefs, and tube socks adorning his lower half. He was thinking about whether he would need to waste time styling his hair, seeing as the humidity from his shower was causing it to wave gently, when he heard a shout from the bedroom.

“Wha happeth? Ah you hut?” He panted around his toothbrush.


Nothing seemed to be wrong. Half your hair was in curlers and you still had your towel on as you stared down into the box where the dress and underwear were stashed away.

“I told you to order white underwear. Look at this,” you pulled the panties from their wrapping to reveal that they were in fact slightly lighter than Tiffany blue. “Minnie, didn’t you check the color before you selected it?”


“I dih--” he ran to rinse out his mouth and replace his toothbrush before coming back. “I did. It said it was white, it had a little BL and everything. For blanc. Because its French,” he trailed off. You squeezed your eyes shut.

“The site settings were in English, Jimin. I can’t read French. BL is blue,” you said quietly.


You picked up the receipt and handed the slip to the confused man.

“It says BL for---for blue.”


“Yeah,” you said lowly as you began to pull on the delicate underwear.


“I-I’m sorry. I really thought I picked the right color.”


“It’s alright, Minnie. It was a simple mistake, I shouldn’t have gotten so worked up in the first place. You were only helping me.”


“At least it’ll be covered up by your dress, right?” 


“At least there’s that,” you gave him a shaky smile, “Are you done with the bathroom? I’ll just go finish up in there and meet you by the door.”


“Alright.” He ran a head through his hair nervously, mussing up his bangs slightly. 

As he spun his car keys around, Jimin wondered whether the clothing would put a damper on the rest of the night when the sound of your shoes approaching shook him out of his musings.

The ivory of the dress looked against your skin was amazing and the way it molded itself to your figure took his breath away. But he could tell by the way your lips were drawn that you were still upset.

“What’s the matter?”


“The dress its...see-through. You can see the blue. I’m going to be the laughing stock of the whole company.” Jimin’s eyes dipped down and he saw that the blue stood out through the sheer, satiny material of the dress. 


“How about you call in sick and skip it. There’s no use in being uncomfortable all night for no reason.”


“I can’t. I volunteered to handle the jewelry auction. And my promotion is practically contingent on my being there. I have to go.” Frustrated tears welled up in your eyes.


“Well, you look beautiful. I almost don’t regret picking the wrong color,” he said while shrugging off his white suit jacket, “You can use this as a cover. It was making me feel too Vegas anyway.”

The joke fell flat when you simply spread your hands over the skirt one final time and took the jacket. You mumbled a quiet “Thank you.”

Much to his chagrin, the dress did put a damper on the whole evening. More specifically, on your evening. Jimin had a relatively good time. He had 3 free Shirley Temples and a shameful amount of gluten-free mini quiches. But even on the car ride home, your disappointment towards having to wear a jacket over such a beautiful dress all evening was palpable. When you arrived home, both of you seemed to release breaths you didn’t realize you were holding.

Immediately you began to strip out of your attire, exhausted from the gala. Jimin couldn’t help but watch you peel off the dress in your haste to get ready for bed. Because you were wearing a towel earlier, he hadn’t gotten a look at the delicate garments you had on underneath.

“Those are pretty on you,” he ventured quietly, ”The color is good.”


“Thanks. I can’t wait to go straight to sleep.”

 You removed your bra, threw on a sleep shirt, and hiked some sweatpants over the blue underwear.


He nodded and got ready for bed as well, all the while the image of you in blue burned bright on the backs of his eyelids while he waited for you to finish cleaning your teeth and washing your face. 

When Jimin felt the mattress dip with your weight, he waited a bit to gauge your mood. With your back to him and the way you lay close to the far edge of your side, it seemed you were still upset. But you weren’t the type to hold grudges and if you did linger on anything, you tended to internalize it, even if it was someone else’s fault. He reached a tentative hand out pat the curve of your hip.

“Not tonight, Jimin. I’m not in the mood right now.” You shifted to shrug his hand off.


“I really wasn’t trying anything. How do you know I’m not in the mood either?”


You turned to look at him over your shoulder and give a small laugh despite yourself. “You’re always in the mood, Minnie.”

“Hey, now,” he shuffled closer, sensing a lightening of the atmosphere, “I’m not always in the mood. You just looked especially good tonight.”


“How could I have looked good with your stupid jacket on. No one even got to see my dress.” 

Your voice was small, but it didn’t quite sound sad and he took a leap of faith by sliding the hand that was resting near your hip to snake underneath your sleep shirt and press to your stomach, pulling you in flush to him.


“That’s everyone else’s loss. But it doesn’t mean you didn’t look good”. He nuzzled his nose against the curve of your neck and let his hand knead lightly at the skin of your side. “Plus, I feel like we have a little secret since I was the only one who got to see you in that dress.”


“Well, I didn’t do that on purpose. Better you be the one to see those horrible underwear ruin the dress than my boss.” You closed your eyes and let the feeling of Jimin’s fingers gliding underneath the waistband of your sweats soothe you before you realized what he was doing. “Jimin!”

“What? I’m just touching you. Is that no longer allowed? Am I on probation?” He pulled the sagging collar of your shirt down and peppered soft, wet kisses across the parts of your neck the he could reach. It tickled and you barely held in a laugh.


“Yes, that’s exactly what this is. You’re on probation.”


“Okay, so let me probe a little bit,” he said with a mischievous lilt in his voice before yanking your sweatpants down unceremoniously. 


“Park Jimin,” you shouted when the colder air of the bedroom hit your skin, “That’s not even what probation means, you’re so--what is it?”


You peered at his face only to follow his fixed gaze down to the vibrant blue cloth covering your pelvis.

“Nothing, it’s just pretty,” he said almost to himself, his tone distracted and light. He smoothed a hand over the material, marveling at how smooth the fabric was. “You know my favorite color is blue.”


“Are you saying you did this on purpose?” You tried to scoot away experimentally but his hold remained firm. 


“I already told you it was an accident. But I’m realizing now it was a happy one.” 

“Yeah?” Your own voice sounded dreamy and far away as you basked in all the attention. He only hummed in response before making his move.

Now that you were somewhat pliant, Jimin wedged his other arm under you so he could further envelope you. One hand remained where it was, caressing the silken fabric without doing anything too risky. The other hand, however, quickly made its way over to your breasts. He massaged them gently, at first, until your nipples began to brush more firmly against his palms. He began to tweak them and pull, knowing it was the fastest way to get you squirming.


You arched your back in response and ended up pushing your hips back against his, accidentally grinding on him. You could feel his hardness through the double layer of the barely-there material of your panties and his boxers. Coupling this with the feeling of his hand traveling under your shirt to continue its ministrations on your nipples and the creeping sensation of his other hand as he fingered the intricate laser-cut designs above your mound. It was almost too much and you felt like you were being bombarded. You tried to sneakily tug the waistband of your sweats up as you distracted him as best you could by rubbing up against his front, but he caught onto your plan. His hand left the confines of your shirt quickly to grip at your throat and force you to lengthen your neck obediently.

“Just let me see, baby. I just wanna see.” His voice was lower than his normal speaking tone, and noticeably rougher. He turned his mouth to suck at the spot on your neck where your skin felt the softest and placed a warm hand over yours. 

He guided the hand you had holding the sweatpants down teasingly slow. There was something erotic about the movement that made you whimper quietly. He must have heard the sound because soon he was shushing you softly and finished pulling down the sweatpants as far as he could. You kicked them off the rest of the way before realizing your hands felt awfully empty. You tried to turn to face him, but he wrapped a tight arm around and simply plucked at your nipples a little rougher, nipped at the skin of your shoulder a little more harshly. 

“Jimin.” You felt too warm with the heat he was radiating at your back and even with the sleep shirt you had on bunched up at your underarms.

“I know what you need,” he said in a voice that pretended to be thoughtful and selfless. 

His free hand finally passed your mound to press between the apex of your thighs. The angle was a bit awkward with his arm winding around your torso, but with coordination he was able to circle his fingertips around your clit. At this point, you still had too much lucidity and were worried that he would ruin the expensive underwear and stain it irrevocably with your arousal.


You started to protest but he seemed to read your mind and give your throat a warning squeeze with his free hand. With the other, he shifted to swipe a few fingers near your clothed entrance. He made a pleased sound when he brought his hand back up and the tips of his fingers caught the low lamp light and glistened.

“Open.” He held his fingers up before your lips, his grip on your neck loosening so you could move to suck them into your mouth. 

You made sure to graze his fingertips with kitten licks before popping them out your mouth when you knew they were clean. Jimin nudged at your cheek with a slightly damp hand until you turned enough for him to kiss you, wanting to chase whatever was left of your taste. He groaned at the feeling of you licking into his mouth and you felt him throb where his groin was pressed against your ass. You kissed slowly for a long moment, all the while his other hand continued to rub figure eights around your clit before circling back down to the now sopping material covering your entrance. 


The onslaught of sensation was enough to have you gasping and breaking the kiss. You let out a long, broken moan as he hooked his fingers underneath the material to feel the wetness without a barrier, although it left little to the imagination at this point.

“I wanna be inside you badly right now,” he mumbled shakily. The tremors in his voice sent another wave of excitement through you. You loved when he got overwhelmed.


“Please, oh my god. I need it.” 

You breathed heavily out your nose to keep quiet while he shoved his boxers off. He pressed against you with renewed vigor and you both groaned at the feeling of his overheated skin pressing against yours. You moved to pull your panties off but he stopped you.


“Keep them on. I want you to slide them to the side and hold them like that while I fuck you.”


“How do you want it,” you asked as you stretched your hand out to reach for the condoms that lived in a bowl under the bed. You nearly threw the condom in his face when you finally grasped at a foil packet. He rolled it on and inspected it briefly before grabbing at the meat of your thigh to lift your leg and bring it to rest over one of his own.

“Like this. On your side, from the back. I want to be able to see you in these panties.”

Pressing a hand over your lower belly, he pulled you flush against him once more to line up his swollen head with your entrance. He bumped against you a few times to coat himself with your slickness. At the feel of the initial stretch you grit your teeth.

“You feel so good,” you sputtered when he finally bottomed out. His girth was one of the things you gave thanks for most. You felt perfectly full and the slick smoothness of his entry had your head spinning. He pressed his forehead to your shoulder and began to rock into you, shallowly at first.


“So do you. God,” he let out a whine when you clenched around him as he went deeper, “You’re so fucking wet.”


He shifted to plant a foot on the bed for leverage and so he could maneuver his hand back in between your now more open thighs. His fingertips bumped yours where they pulled the crotch of the panties up and to the side. You felt him grab your hand and move it slightly higher and more inward. It became clear what his motives were when the fabric caught on your clit with the force of every thrust. You grip on the fabric tightened as your back bowed, pressing yourself more firmly against him. Jimin moaned at the fresh wave of arousal you coated him with.

“Jimin,” your voice was tight with need and nearly drowned out but the slick sounds his thrusts made. 


“Harder?”


“Yeah,” you breathed, feeling your orgasm start to build. 

He cursed when you tightened up on him once more and rewarded you with a sharp smack to the globe of your ass. He began to fuck you in earnest.

“Arch your back, baby” he grunted. 

But before you could blink through the fog of your impending orgasm to comply, he brought his free hand up to cup your throat and pull you back how he wanted you. He squeezed a little for good measure and you felt an almost electric shock in your groin. You let go of the underwear in favor of tending to your clit with your own fingers at the same moment that he began to truly plow into you. Your toes started to curl and you marveled through your hazy consciousness at how your orgasms started the same way.


It started tonight, like it always did--with a pin-prick of pleasure that had you squirming. Then it turned into white hot waves building from the soles of your feet upwards. As the feeling reached your belly, the pleasure became molten and pulled every muscle in your body taut. You could feel your limbs shaking but you were too far gone to signal to Jimin that you were about to come, your breath leaving your mouth in increasingly small choked gasps. The pressure that had been building steadily in your abdomen snapped and you fell off your precipice screaming.

Watching you fall apart was always one of Jimin’s favorite pass-times. As you trembled before him, he tried his best to keep his eyes open so he could see you. But the way your walls gripped him tore his attention away. He squeezed his eyes shut and rutted up into you to chase his own high. It rippled through him faster than he was expecting, forcing him to tighten his grip on you to ground himself.

You calmed down first and listened to the sounds of his labored breaths in your ear. Luckily, you were on your side, so you didn’t have to worry about him collapsing on top of you or having to balance from on top of him to your side of the bed. Your back felt too sweaty though and you frowned at the thought of getting up again to take another shower before being able to sleep. When he eventually got out of bed to dispose of the condom and start the shower you grimaced at the feeling of cooling perspiration and tugged off your sleep shirt in hopes of dabbing at the moisture. 

“You coming,” Jimin asked when he came to lean on the doorframe of the bathroom.


You nodded and got up carefully, not wanting to overestimate the leftover strength in your knees and fall. You discarded your panties and he watched you hobble past him to the toilet with a smug expression. 

“I bet you’re not still upset about the underwear now,” he smirked at you while sliding open the door to the shower and stepping in.


“I bet you were never really sorry about buying my underwear late,” you countered over the sound of the water. You flushed the toilet and smiled softly to yourself while your washed your hands and he screamed at the momentary change in water temperature. 

He stuck his head out of the door as he waited for the warm water to return. “How did you know I bought it late?”


“You bought them on my account. I got the order confirmation and the email, it just got buried because I was swamped with work. But I saw while I was checking my phone in line for the women’s room at the gala.”


He had enough sense to give you smile that was 40% apology and 60% cheekiness.

“These are nicer than ivory,” he said with an exaggerated snobby accent.


“How? Because you got to play the white knight and lend me your suit jacket?”


“No,” Jimin trailed off. He stuck a hand out to pull you into the shower with him. “They’re nicer because they’re the underwear I fucked you in.”


“How charming. You know, the ivory could have been that pair too.”


“I don’t know. Nothing gets me in the mood faster than a nice blue. Why do you think its my favorite color?”


“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Maybe so,” he stepped aside to let you have a turn with the water.

“Wash my hair? Its the least you can do.”


When you both finished showering, you could tell that it was way past your bedtime but you had to wait until Jimin changed the sheets. You were so tired you would have gladly slept on them, but he had a thing about post-sex sheets.

You blotted the ends of your hair with an old t-shirt and watched him make the bed with a neatness you’d only seen in hospitals. A spot of blue caught your attention and you realized you left your panties on the floor. You pinched them by the corner daintily and moved to put the garment in his laundry basket.

“Wait,” he said and plucked the panties out of your hands before shoving them in the back pocket of his sweats.


“What are you gonna do with those?”


“I don’t know. Save them for a rainy day, probably.” He gave you a wink before returning to fluff the pillows one last time.

[modiintrainguy]

Is it ADHD. What is it ADHD? What is this. What?

August 3 2020

?

It’s been a while as the cliché says.

I guess I’ve avoided and my heads been a whoosh and ive not been able to focus or /and I’ve felt like ive not had the time even though I obviously don’t spend all my time doing what I should be doing and not relaxing or taking time out.

Also. I’ve almost not taken the train at all since January. The train was my writing space. It used to be the place. But now im on the bus. And then of course there was lockdown for 2 months when I didn’t even go to work. And now I only go twice a week.

Let’s do some subheaders. Its 8.35 am im on the bus. Ive got about 25 minutes.

1.  ADHD Coaching

So yeah ive been meaning to write a short summary each week. Then I don’t.

So lets see what I can remember from my zoom with the coach on Wednesday. It was tishabav and I thought I was fasting. I mean I was fasting and then I ate before I went to bed for obvious reasons. And then I didn’t on Thursday morning.

But what did we talk about and what conclusions did we come to?

God I need to get the notes from him. He writes down everything I say. I need to review it regularly.

So.

Er, ah yeah. I went through a list of things I sent on wasup.

a.       My confusion about decision making that Friday morning when the day before I had arranged that A should bring R round to play with the girls but then thelittlun woke up at 7.30 and said she wanted to go to the beach and I was like great I’ll tell A. I knew she might not want to or be able to go cos she would need to be home by 12pm but I texted her anyway and I felt elated about going to the beach. But then she called and said she cant go to the beach and R will be very disappointed. And I got so confused and in the end I went.

 And we talked about how I just looked at the negative from the decision. That I saw it was bad to go but bad to stay and go to ben shemen. But I need to be rational and realise no choice will be perfect. There will be bad and good in every choice. So u just need to decide. One or the other and accept that there are negative things in both but it doesn’t mean the other choice was right.

I had a similar feeling on Thursday when I picked up the girls from C and I had agreed to go to the center of town with A and her girls but I was “Fasting” and impulsively didn’t want o go. and then R said she wants to come to our house and the littlun wanted her to come and then I invited R and S and M and A and then I was stuck. And A came late to pick R up from C, like 10 minutes, and it was a stress. I was like come over and then inevitably I spent the journey home thinking I made a mistake and I shouldn’t have forced R to come over and I needed the space and fresh air after being at home all day. And then and then and then it was fine and R appreciated it.

Can I do it? Can I calm and see the trees from the wood?

Other things discussed:

b.       The argument/discussion with thewife about what to do on the Thursday of tishabav – should the girls go to C? or come to the hospital with us. In the end we got to the right decision.

2.  Work

Really really whats the stress all about. I was watching the beginning of a movie just last night with a scene showing a guy coming to work in the morning. He seemed fresh and when I was driving home I was thinking I wake up stressed.

Like there is no  - this is today, im gonna try and achieve a, b and c. and then im finished. Its always like a rush to do as much on the long list as I can and then the feeling like I didn’t complete what I should and then im worried that Im late and I cant relax in the evening and then in the morning I need to get in as early as possible cos im behind.

I need realistic understanding of what I should do and when I should do it.

After my weekly with Eyal I didn’t get close to that cos I just list X, Y, X, A, B C and im left with an unrealistic list and then its like I need to try and do as much as I can but then it means I wont finish it so there will also be things I need to and should do that are still on the list and I never feel like I can relax cos im always behind.

So whats the answer. Realistic daily planning in the morning.

Can I do it? The reason I don’t is cos the planning seems to end up taking up too much time. Can I do it quickly? Can I write this blog quickly

Not really. But its essential.

3.       Life

That’s the connection with the life. Like why don’t I get on top of the money? Cos it feels like it will take too long to organise?

That’s more of a part than I realise. A bigger part.

If I could relax and know I have time to do the washing up then it would be mindful like mrs says it is.

4.       Work-life-balancelife

Whereive I am Im always in a rush, worried all the time when ive realised ive been doing the wrong thing the whole time so ive been wasting time and now I wont be able to get things done.

I know I cant do everything. Need to plan things.

Problem is I review the plans and realsie I didn’t get it right. And the planning takes so long and then im in a mess anyway.

Thing is I went swimming on shabat and I took 24 minutes or so to do lengths and it took me back to the SBTc times when I spent an hour swimming trying to work out how to do what needed to be done. Ive been in the same trying to work it out situation ever since apart from that break between Cr and this job.

But then did it matter? I left and I realised I was focused on some wrong things.

I need to focs on the things that need to be done.

If there are too manythen I cant do them all.

Focs sake.

5.  ADHD drugs?

Get an assessment? ADHD centre in tel aviv? NShg? Fuck knows.

I guess Tuesday I make an appointment with someone.

Cos I need an assessment.

Although there is the question – if there is no physical biological evidence that shows ADHD isn’t all just a guess. So the test is do you act like X or Y. but theres no way of proving the reason you act like that is cos the way your brain is wired. Its just an assumption and a guess.

Is it true? Can it help. Will an assessment give me peace of mind. At least I can tell people I “have ADHD” – but what does it mean? What Coach says it doesn’t matter about an assessment – the fact is my brain works in a certain way. Why is interesting and can help change it or help me learn how to deal with it but really its about accepting this is how my brain works and developing ways to deal with the situations like

-          Stopping me being impulsive and just doing or saying things without thinking them through (that’s hard eh)

-          Trying to look at things from different perspective

Just remembered the littleuns insight when I thought this guy had bumped into me on purpose outside littlerones gan and littlun was like maybe he didn’t see you.

And today when she said I shouldn’t throw things cos someone could slip on her magnet and I could have broken something when I threw the sandals. She was right so does that mean I sohuldnt have done it. Yes. Obviously. But its so recent I can feel how I felt and it feels like the only thing to do.

So maybe nows the time to analyse that situation – when I feel the tension and urge to throw. Could I have sotpped myself. Only reason I think no is cos I didn’t have time. And I felt it was the only way to show I cant deal with the sandals. I wanted to shock littlerun into stoppeding crying. And she did but then I felt worse and had to spend a minute apologising to littlun.

So whats the answer – theres almost always a spare minute or two to calm down. Almost always.

This doesn’t mean I have 5 or 10 mins or half an hour and hour. Although maybe I do.

But don’t spend hours on the wrong thing – focus on the right thing, get it done and then bish bash bosh. Move on. Be realistic about what needs to be done, do it as quickly as possible and then I can go home and go running tonight.

Yknow dat.

Gotta try and run with headie one even if he may be an anti-Semite.

Gonna get there at 9.10. leaving at 6.20.

Zehu.

UPDATE - 6.13pm

After an entire day, and maybe a week, of avoiding the relatively simple task of writing down exactly what is going to be on each of the sites in August I took the plunge about half an hour ago and started doing fbcom and lo and behold it wasn’t just easy it felt great getting clarity.

just goes to show eh. what i know is true really is true. it’s not a big deal. calm down, get the easy stuff out the way and then concentrate on the slightly more complicated but also easy and more enjoyable part which is the planning and editing and doing what the hell i want with these sites!!

is that the truth? maybe. gotta get the bus though. 

[gendercuck]

✿tagged by: my grandpa @deathgripstrash ✿rules: answer the questions and tag 20 people you’d like to know better 

✿nickname: i don’t got one, ive always wanted one tho (got called Mod the other day on discord and that was 👌) ✿zodiac sign: Capricorn ✿height: 5"6 ✿time right now: half 5 ✿last thing i googled: homebrew druid circles (bc land vs moon is so all or nothing, considering making Serque a ghostbuster) ✿favourite music artist: music has always been weird for me bc I’m particular about it but never have the energy to find new stuff, so, idk man ✿song stuck in my head: the caravan place mv with the jazz robit ✿last movie i watched: hhh, can’t even remember, i think kill bill 1 maybe? ✿last tv show i watched: new samurai jack, god that show is so good!! ✿what are you wearing right now: bouncer jacket, shirt with blue and yellow flowers an primark jeans/p>

✿when did you create your blog?: 5ish years ago lmao ✿what kind of content do you post ?: went fandom, then shitpost, then full mcelroy ✿do you have any other blogs ?: yep! my two d&d blogs, my kinda inactive star wars blog and a ton of hoarded rick and morty urls (hmu if you want them) ✿do you have asks regularly ?: nop ✿hogwarts house: gryfinndor(Pottermore)/ravenclaw(3rd party tests) i could go either way but i hate red so ravenclaw it is! ✿pokemon team: instinct irl, probs valour if pokemon were like, real ✿favourite colour: lilac or mint ✿average hours of sleep: 4 or 5 ✿lucky number: fuck if i know ✿favourite character(s): boi there’s a lot (love taz carey n lup atm, as well a certain foolish samurai) ✿how many blankets do you sleep with ?: 1-3 duvets, 1 blanket ✿dream job: working in a big ol warehouse and volunteering at a super cool museum in free time, or just professionally writing rpg campaigns ✿following count: its in the 400s end me ✿followers count: 264

✿i tag: my irl best dudes @vivalacobrastarship and @rostygold, plus my wonderful discord d&d bros @rei-kay @hypohypodiegetic @dienosaur @justashadeoffcrazy @unsurecatdeer @hexagizmo (colleen’s tumble ain’t on the doc so if anyone sees this and knows it lemme know so i can edit her on)

[idksheepthoughts]

Conversations Me: you actually soft blocked me....                                   any reason why?

Her: lol the fact that you noticed this late   but it happened on accident actually and i went and unblocked               but at that point i was like lmao like she'll notice so i never mentioned it              

Me: If you hate me just say so. No need to lie.... I don't check shit like that every day but it's not that many days since I know it was maybe a week or less ... Whatever. I'm so splitting atm. So I'll shut up before I say something else             

Her: hate? when the fck did i mention that?         yes, better shut up before you stick your foot in your mouth as usual                 since i've done nothing hostile to you as if me feeling like i matter to no one and have the smallest amt of friends possible is somehow how an Attack on You.

Me: you blocked me... on "accident" how does that even happen.... i've told you tons of times that the amount of friends depends solely on yourself. and your willingness to talk to people and work past the anxiety and fear that talking to people causes. . . otherwise I wouldn't even have friends. because if i isolated and neveer talked to anyone ever first that nobody would talk to me in the first place. . . ugh whatever. i've said too much im just going to sober up and talk later i guess.... I can't always be here I try to be but like we said previously, i didn't know what to do between give you loads of attention and give you nothing at all...

Her: tumblr mobile? lol. if you can't believe me when i say that then i don't really want to talk to you since everytime i feel bad or have like, negative feelings regarding my own situations you always take it so personally (1) and then i have to dread these fcking conversations so when we've been talking normally on twitter                 it all goes to fcking shit because you can't accept that i get to feel bad and feel upset about stuff regardless of whether or not im taking actions to help myself in my own way at my own pace...doesn't mean you get to think that i hate you so i blocked you      because what the fuck how does it work when we've been chatting like everyday on twitter?                   and it was (what i thought) fine? good? (2) if it really was the case i wouldve blocked you here or just flat out deleted since then i'd only have one fucking follower :) so just. let me have emotions. and don't assume things. this is so funny because i remember you getting mad at me months ago for the same exact thing   and here we are, situations reversed  

Me: BECAUSE i have a huge fear of abandonment.... it was fine but this stuff even if its an accident just idk .... i guess you never saw how much abandonment even if its an accident sends me into depressive spirals??? have i ever left you no. i've been distant yes but i've never full on unfollowed or left... idk you block me a lot and delete and it hurts every time.                                    

Her: "even if" can you believe me????? first off???? (3) and no you havent god if it was such a problem just follow me and then ask me about it because why would i lie lol (4) i don't like friendships built on lies i'll never talk to someone like that genuinely   i have insecurities too. i have enough

Me: ok it was an accident.

Her: i didn't even think it was a problem first off considering all those people you put on your thanksgiving post. and then you never noticed/messaged me about so i was like k, so that's that! and just talked w/ you normally here  (5)           so let's just accept the fact that we've got our problems and there's better ways to handle this than assuming motives

Me: so you did change url because of that post??? like my paranoid ass thought???? i was right on that???? cause i noticed that and was like... maybe its not related but was it????? cause I just want to know... im not mad at that at all just... i want to not assume things atm.    and i notice stuff slowly because I try not to fall into obsessive traits. its not healthy to check who im following or who is greyed out or blocked every single day. . . I try to just let things be but when I do notice stuff i can't help but explode. I tried to be calm by just asking why.... but i clearly failed at that. its whatever. I followed back. if it happens again just like.. tell me please??? this stuff makes me so close to slitting my wrist                                    

Her: no, i changed my url because i was sitting on that url for a while and i wanted to use it              

Me: okay, it was just a paranoid thought.                             

Her: well, i really, really, really, don't like when you start assuming things even after i tell you or not believing me. we've been friends for how long? does it mean nothing? you'd think i'd lie at this point? x____x       (6) .those thoughts make me want to die      

Me: i'm sorry for thinking irrationally, but with how many people just up and leave, all the time even with being friends for long periods its hard not to jump to conclusions. I am in the wrong for falling into my own paranoid thoughts. You explained things and I don't believe that you are lying so its fine.                        

Her: oh, now you believe me                     after i have to hold your hand when i'm upset (7) whatever i'm probably not going to follow back because i hate that i have no friends and my mutuals ignore all my posts when i try to put myself out there     it's gotten to a point where i can't post stuff on tumblr anymore because i know no one gives a shit             like even as happy as i am about my commission i know if i post that on my tumblr i'll make the artist seem bad when no one likes my post  idc. i'm bitter and alone and probably always will be because i don't have any friends aside from you o/                           like, be grateful you even have that many people to be grateful for   (8)      i'd kill for it i feel like dying when i think about this and i think about it a lot     but ofc i don't moan about it anywhere except on this stupid fucking twitter account                   where you seem ot think i live a dandy life   (9)                                    it fcking sucks bc im trying my best!                                           anyways im done lol           oh and then you post shit like *Edit* (Screenshot of some tags where I said I always listen to people but nobody likes listening to me so I talk to my cats a lot which is true because I’m a burden and i hate bothering people with my problems so much)                    that when you damn well no i have no one else to listen to except you online      and we've been civil lately                         but ok! i guess i don't care!  because im living it up!       #sarcasm    (10)

Me: you havent followed me in probably over 10 or so months, whenever i remade, cause i don't think you followed me when i delteed either,  i didn't expect a follow back at all. i just expect us to be not mutuals but still friends? THEN TALK TO PEOPLE TALK TO PEOPLE AND TALK TO PEOOPLE thats all i did was work past my fears and talk to people and some stuck around some didn't. i dont know what else to say. some of those people haven't actually spoken to me in months either but im still grateful for them. I have nothing else to really advise on that other than you gotta put the talking in first. thats all i've done and its somehow managed to not fuck it up for this long??? i dont think i've had any friend longer than whenever we started being friends... so around 2 years...    

Her: no offense but just talking to people doesn't do shit :) but seriously, thanks :)       (Phone lagged) So I repeated my previous message by accident)                           

Her: yeah probably the only reason you havent fucked it up is because i dont want to be fucking alone and i dont give up easily so ive stayed with this even fi you make me feel like fucking shit when this happens   & since you said nothing to everything else i just said i guess im right :)             god im over this i dont want to fight and i dont want to talk to you becaus eim always explaining my problems and you just like. tell me the same shit each time as if it'll magically do stuff   liek the fact that im trying doesnt mean anything                 i dont wanna talk to you if its always going to be like this ill take the goddamn loss and be lonely while youve got your fucking harem of friends idc if its an exaggeration the point is everyone i considered a friend has just stopped talking to me completely and the only thing i get here is you telling me what to do like i need cold hard instructions for making a friend  

ME: Harem??? You know nothing about anything. Ya know what..... forget it. If it's better I don't say anything because nothing I says helps and  I'm a broken record. You want to assume because I tagged a lot of people doesn't mean I wasn't just fishing for validation. Me trying to help is just being a dumb mistake. I can't help anyone and why I try is also confusing because I am pointless. I'm keeping you in my note regardless you have been here and listened and that hadn't changed.  But if this is just going to explode it's going to explode. All I do is ruin everything and I don't even care anymore I'm going to buy a gun soon anyways. So what's the point in trying to make something work. I've always been a shit friend and it's just not worth it to you at this point. So okay.                   

Her: HERE let me qutoe for you something    "idc if its an exaggeration"                                      ^^^^^^^             unlike you im aware when im being irrational lmao    (11)     apparnetly you get to be and i dont                             thats how it always is            did you ever think about it feels for me   when my only friend does shit like this constantly    like lmao                                ofc not bc why would you consider anything from my point of view  this conversation is over until you want to stop fucking assuming i dont care       LOL     and acting as if me letting you go is the best thing that could happen to me       like we couldnt j ust talk on twitter and let it fucking be but you have todrag it all in at least i get to get stuff off my chest thats the only fucking good that comes out of this  like you dont get that you telling me the same thing hurts because it doesnt fucking work and i dont have any fucking friends  i have college to deal with and studies and that pressure but you dont know the half of it?    but you just want to assume, assume, assume   (12) i cried already out of anger    

Me: I didn't have friends in college either                                 

Her: big offense but i dont want to continue this conversation

ME: Okay

Her: unles syoure willing to admit to your bullshit       because ima lways doing that and im always getting the end of your shit      

Me: I am made of nothing but bullshit I'm nothing but a huge fucking shit storm and I always will be. You should have left a long time ago because I don't know how to not be toxic   It's not That I won't be upset by you leaving far from it but you deserved better people and maybe if you had left and kept trying as you have been things will turn around. Because literally everyone that has ever done that with me ended up fine and in a good spot. I hold people back. And that's all I can think of. I ruin other people's lives by being in it. And I've certainly made your life worse. And I'm just better off dead because I am a selfish fucking loser.     I'll shut up now.