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whispersleo · 3 days ago

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MY TASTE IN MEN

This was supposed to be a warm-up meme sketch, but I started writing the comparisons seriously, so here’s the post...

Astarion and Illario

They become "villains"/bad guys as a response to trauma.

They use their beauty and body to deceive and objectify themselves to get what they believe they want.

They have suffered physical, verbal, and emotional abuse that would break anyone.

They don't want to see themselves as victims, nor show—they hate feeling—weakness. They want to be stronger and crave power at any cost.

They display superiority toward others when their entire lives they have been beneath or in someone's shadow.

They have become so accustomed to lying and manipulating that I doubt they even know their true selves.

They approach someone who welcomes them with open arms, all the while thinking about how to use that person.

They fall to pieces if you show them genuine affection and love, what it’s truly meant to be.

They would kill for you.

They are my wet rats; they have no body hair.

I think, after all, they do enjoy sex—it probably involves unconventional things.

What they want and what they need are VERY different things.

I can fix them.

They have a strange relationship with blood.

They would betray you if it meant saving their own lives.

Showing vulnerability is the last thing they want, and strangely, it's what would save both of them from becoming monsters.

I have a weakness for men who try to kill me. You're screaming for me to fix you babe.

This could end very badly or very well.

They are charming and it is easy to fall for their lies instead of seeing beyond that mask.

People see them as "dumb" when they are tremendously intelligent. They may not be textbook smart, but they know how to read people, ask the right questions at the right time, they wait for the opportunity and always analyze the situations they find themselves in. People call them "dumb" because it's easier to accept it instead of the complex idea that a character can be smart but a moron at the same time.

They won't be jerks to you, but they'll probably treat the waitress on the date poorly if she fucks up something.

They are the kind of person who is worth being romantically with, but to get there you have to take off their mask and that in itself is a great effort.

They definitely want to be someone's first choice, for once in their lives.

Deep down, all they want is adoration, love and respect.

I want to hold them and tell them that they deserve to be loved without any ties or conditions to that love.

Gale, Emmrich and Lucanis

They are sweet by nature, kind souls despite all the pain they've been through.

Showing kindness is what makes them strong.

Once they fall in love with you, they are lost.

They have enormous insecurities.

They feel the weight of the world on their shoulders all the time.

Great facial and body hair.

They have a strange relationship with death.

They have a huge heart that yearns to love.

I would feel very proud to introduce them as my partner. Like yes this good man loves me, isn't that amazing?

They have self-destructive tendencies.

It makes me blush to hear them laugh because it’s the most precious sound in the world.

I would feel safe with them around.

They would die for you.

Gale and Emmrich

They are professors, and I DEFINITELY don't feel an incredible attraction toward men who can teach me interesting and unknown subjects in depth (of course, that DOESN'T turn me on).

They are the smartest and kindest in this room.

They love to show and share their studies and knowledge with anyone willing to listen.

They are patient.

They know how to listen.

They offer their opinion when you clearly didn't ask for it.

Too many times they want to help or give advice without being asked.

They've had many partners, but they love you a lot, and that willingness to learn how to love again is one of their most beautiful qualities.

In some strange way, they know how to fight when I think they're meant to be treated with care and delicacy or they'll break (just kidding).

Oh, and by the way, both of them are mages—guess it's sexy that you can do a bunch of magical things...

They are nerds even when it comes to sex and I love that. Of course I don't know anything about anatomy, do you want to explain that to me, professor?

Astarion, Illario and Lucanis

They have killed more people than I should feel comfortable with.

"The hands that cradled your face and tilted it upwards to kiss your forehead are soaked in unfathomable quantities of blood." But they cradled me, yes?

They are trained assassins, and that raises some questions about my own morals.

Why do we kill?

What does it feel like to take a life?

What does it feel like to hold the weapon with which you snatch away the last moments of someone who was as human as you and me, who had desires, fears, aspirations, who didn’t want to die?

What kind of superiority do you think you have to do that and see your target as nothing more than a simple cockroach?

How can you sleep at night?

Do those thoughts torment you, or are your dreams sweet as if you hadn’t done anything wrong?

How do you decide that someone deserves to die, my love?

Would you kill me like you've killed so many if, in some way, you believe I deserve it?

Don’t you think the sins you see in others, in those you kill, are also your own?

I LOVE characters with complex morals, it's so sexy. Yes, baby, kill a few more, let's bathe in the blood of our enemies or anyone who opposes us, let's dance with their corpses, I love you.

I know they are flexible.

Astarion and Emmrich

A date in a cemetery? Sure! Wait, why am I excited to do it on a grave? Ugh, I hope this doesn’t awaken another weird fetish in me...

I can't stop thinking about blood and corpses in a way that's too pleasant.

Their sense of fashion is superior.

They always carry a brush with them, in case they get a little messy in the middle of a fight.

I think both of them can sew pretty well.

They have a strange desire to become some kind of superior being, and that could end very well or very badly.

There’s some strange necromancy here.

They love to read, and that's very cute.

Gale, Illario and Lucanis

Their long hair gives me years of life, I want to run my fingers through it, caress it, comb it, pull it, I love it.

Maybe I like their hair because it's like mine, but either way.

I love drawing them.

Thinking about them makes my brain jump in my skull.

I just want to take away all your pain.

They have been emotionally abused but they cannot recognize themselves as victims, because they feel love for their abuser and the abuser loves them in a horrible way, the way only a mother's love could twist you.

DEFINITELY MOMMY ISSUES.

(This becomes more complex thinking about the relationship between Mystra and Gale / Zara and Illario and Caterina but that needs a whole power point presentation).

Gale and Lucanis

Canonically, they are THE wife material.

They are soft and loving once you’re with them.

They know how to cook and do any domestic task you can think of.

The house/camp is always in perfect condition thanks to them.

They look at you like you are the most precious person in the world.

I want to get them pregnant.

They have the saddest, most puppy-like brown eyes that make you love them instantly.

Their face screams for kisses and affection.

I know that between your arms is the warmest place in the world and that I could fall asleep to the sound of your beautiful heart.

I would distract myself by running my hand through their beards and remove any white hairs I found (without them asking me to).

Lucanis wins points for speaking spanish but Gale also wins points because let's remember that he is a professor.

Astarion, Gale, Illario and Emmrich

Absolutely freaks in bed BUT they can be vanilla if you ask them pretty please.

Lucanis

This man is virgin and demisexual like me so I think I would feel extremely comfortable knowing that there is no pressure to do "it" and that he is a man who values company beyond pleasure, calming one of my biggest insecurities.

Not saying the others here can't value company is just... Yeah just sex isn't for me now. And that has ruined many of my relationships. So it gives me more peace of mind to think that my lover can also be a virgin like me and none of us have that expectation.

I'm not saying that the others here would pressure me to do it either. I don't think any of them would. But I know that they can see it as something important in the relationship and there's nothing wrong with that.

Mph-mph.

Gale

He is MY wife.

I have his name tattooed on my arm like branded cattle and I love it.

I have 500 hours on Baldurs and I always start a game again just to hear him breathe.

His relationship with his ex wouldn't create insecurities in me because I already have them so nothing new.

I fear that this man has taken my expectations to a place that cannot be reached by "real" men and I will die alone bUT happy to have met a fictional character written as beautifully as him.

I want to fall asleep while he reads me a book.

He has a cat that talks and has wings, I love her.

I love men who just can't shut the fuck up.

I'm sure his mom would like me and you have no idea how important that is to me HAHAHA my mother-in-laws (except one) always hated me so I would like to feel welcomed in a home for one damn time.

I love him.

I can always like other characters but none as incredible as you, Gale.

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fangdokja · 5 hours ago

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🔞You like them crazy because deep down, you are too.

❤︎ Synopsis. Your favorite yandere is a walking red flag, and honestly, you’re just obsessed with the idea of being loved to the point of insanity. You want someone who’ll choke you with affection (literally), and hey, that says a lot about your choices… and your taste in men.

♡ Book. Forbidden Fruits: Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Jujutsu Kaisen Males (Gojo, Sukuna, Geto, Naoya, Megumi, Yuji, Inumaki, Kenjaku, Shiu Kong) x Fem. Reader (separate)

♡ Headcanon. What Your Favorite Yandere Says About Your Interesting Kinks

♡ Word Count. 4,055

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, general non-con, possessiveness, psychological manipulation and conditioning, suggestive themes, fear play, emotional manipulation and abuse, hints at rough play and sex, psychological and emotional trauma, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances, threats

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr policy, all characters are all of age. This post is meant to be a fun, exaggerated meme—don’t take it too seriously. It’s all in good humor and not a deep psychological analysis (but maybe a little bit).

♡ A/N. So, I enjoyed making the Genshin shiz post and decided to make a JJK version. Might do a HSR one next as well... maybe. Also... I kinda went overboard here, compared to the more organized Genshin one, but seriously I was laughing while writing this. Just funny shiz post. I would say this one's more explicit though haha (no explicit sex), I had way too much fun haha, especially Naoya's and Kenjaku's.

♡ Gojo Satoru.

You have a god complex by association. You want someone who could obliterate the entire planet, but instead, he chooses to stalk your Instagram at 3 a.m. to overanalyze your cryptic "feeling lonely" post.

You’re into men who act like they’re God’s gift to humanity, and honestly? You believe them. You probably like bratty tops who think they’re in control but low-key need to be chained down before they destroy Tokyo because you wouldn’t let them kiss you.

You like men who are unbearable, but in a way that makes you want to lick their face instead of slap it. You saw him take his blindfold off once and immediately decided you’d risk everything for a man who can and will ruin your life with a smirk. Therapy? Never heard of it, because why would you need that when you’re obsessed with a 6'3" man-child whose idea of foreplay is showing off while making you think it’s all about you? Spoiler: it’s not. It’s about him, and you’re fine with it.

You like the idea of someone worshipping you, but also low-key want them to ruin you mentally, emotionally, and physically—preferably in that order.

But you’re still into being spoiled rotten—designer everything, sugar daddy vibes, and someone who’d probably keep you locked in a gilded cage. You pretend you have standards, but deep down, you’re just into being treated like you’re the rarest Pokémon in existence.

You don’t want a boyfriend—you want an all-seeing sugar daddy who gaslights you into thinking the world revolves around him (because in his mind, it does). You probably love the idea of being tied up in a metaphorical (or literal, no judgment) infinity of his obsession. Big on tease and denial, huh?

You’ve definitely thought about what his infinity could do in a make-out session and probably Googled "can Gojo turn infinity off during sex." (No, you’re not getting an answer to that.)

You're also into being teased until you're on the verge of tears, only for him to laugh and say, "Aw, you're so cute when you're frustrated," while continuing to absolutely destroy you. Bonus points if he calls you sweetheart in that condescending, sing-song voice while pinning you to the bed with one hand.

You're also into blindfolds… probably for the aesthetic, but we all know you’re fantasizing about what comes after he takes it off. You’re not scared of being kidnapped, you’re scared of never being spoiled again.

You’re also the type of person who screenshots memes and sends them 3 weeks later without context.

♡ Ryōmen Sukuna.

You're feral. You don’t want love—you want to be destroyed. You want a man who’ll treat you like garbage and somehow it’s hot. "I can fix him" but also, "I don’t want to fix him. Step on me, Daddy."

Your idea of romance is someone who could rip your heart out (literally) and then hold it hostage as you beg for his attention. You’re also too into biting. If he left a handprint bruise on your neck, you’d frame it. Low-key fantasize about getting kidnapped because you think you’d be “too bratty to kill,” and he’d find that cute.

You’re into primal domination, teeth marks, and being pinned against the wall while he laughs at your “attempt” to fight back.

You think it’s hot when men are morally bankrupt and would rather die than be called soft. You definitely believe in Stockholm Syndrome as a viable love language.

This man could call you maggot filth and you’d be texting your friends, “Sukuna said he cared about me today 🥰.” You secretly want him to slap you so hard you see the Cursed Realm.

The worse he treats you, the harder you simp. If he kills your whole family, you’d probably just be like, “They were annoying anyway, babe.”

You’re into primal play, possessiveness, and hearing “you’re mine” growled into your ear like it’s a death sentence (which, with Sukuna, it might be).

You definitely have unresolved trauma and thought “you know what would help? A walking red flag with abs.” You want someone so feral they’d burn down a village just because someone looked at you for 0.2 seconds. Also, you like men who are literally impossible to please because the idea of “earning his love” gets you off.

Your kinks? Pain. Not just physical—emotional, spiritual, metaphysical. You’re the type who thinks choking is romantic foreplay and that love should feel like a hostage situation.

You act like you hate red flags, but you’re planting them in your garden, watering them, and crying when they bloom. Therapy is not in your vocabulary.

You’re deeply into degradation and secretly believe you could “fix him.” Spoiler alert: you can’t, but you’ll die trying. You probably tweet things like “If a man doesn’t put me in his domain expansion, does he even love me?”

Bonus points if you’ve searched for Sukuna x Reader fics where he calls you pathetic but won’t let anyone else touch you.

We see you, masochist. We see you.

You also have daddy issues so big that Sukuna would probably laugh in your face while exploiting them. You’re a masochist in denial and definitely want him to choke you out with those extra hands.

You’ve 100% Googled "can I sell my soul for demon dick" and meant it. You're 100% into monsterfucking. Your search history also includes "tentacle bondage" and "can cursed energy be sexy?"

♡ Suguru Geto.

You have a superiority complex and an inferiority complex. You want someone who’ll emotionally devastate you while maintaining the vibe of a calm, manipulative cult leader. You think you’re classy, but we both know you’re just a slut for a man who says “we need to cleanse the world” like he’s ordering wine at a fancy restaurant.

You think cult leader chic is hot. Your dream date is being kidnapped and indoctrinated into a religious group. You’re into soft-spoken manipulation and think “he didn’t abandon me, he abandoned humanity.”

You want someone who sees you as the one good thing in a world full of “monkeys,” but also you secretly like the idea of being his religion.

You’ll excuse literal genocide because "he’s got a point."

You want someone who hates everyone else but you. Like, he would literally commit mass murder just so you can have a peaceful walk in the park. Into spiritual awakening, but make it horny. Imagine him whispering sacrilegious promises in your ear while surrounded by cursed spirits. That’s your vibe.

You’re the kind of person who’d get Stockholm Syndrome after two days and start quoting his manifesto back to him. He’d probably love-bomb you, use you for his master plan, and then leave you to pick up the pieces. And you’d thank him for it.

You’re into praise kink but only if it’s delivered in a soft yet condescending tone while you’re kneeling in front of him. You want someone who’ll call you his “favorite pet” while subtly threatening to end your bloodline if you step out of line.

Your other kinks? Corruption. You’re into “turning to the dark side” scenarios, and the idea of being brainwashed is weirdly hot to you. Maybe you need a therapist, but Geto would probably convince you therapists are a scam.

You probably daydream about scenarios where you “fix” him, but let’s be honest—you’d fold faster than a lawn chair if he so much as smirked at you. You want a man who looks like he listens to lo-fi while murdering people. You also have unresolved issues with wanting to “save” someone who’s already beyond saving.

You’re down bad for emotionally unavailable men who’ll manipulate you into thinking you’re special. Also, you think long hair = good in bed, and you’re not wrong.

Hair-pulling kink? Try him pulling yours while telling you you’re his only salvation.

Also, he probably tells you to call him master, and you’re into it.

Also, you’re a sucker for men who look like they haven’t slept in 10 years but can still bench press you emotionally.

♡ Naoya Zen'in.

You hate him. You absolutely despise him. And yet, why are you blushing when he calls you a stupid little slut?

You have daddy issues, but instead of unpacking them, you decided to make them worse by stanning this sexist menace. You hate him, but that’s the appeal.

Congratulations, you’re a walking meme of bad decisions, and your search history definitely includes “toxic alpha male x reader.” You don’t even want a healthy relationship—you want to be insulted creatively until you're crying, and then have him smirk while telling you how pretty you look when you break.

You tell people you hate misogyny but get weak in the knees when he says “stay in your place, woman.” You want someone who’ll treat you like garbage, then be jealous when other people try to respect you.

You think Naoya calling you a “stupid little girl” is the height of romance (because if you’re into him, you’re already used to disrespect).

100% into punishment kinks. The idea of Naoya spanking you until you cry and then calling you a “good little servant” lives rent-free in your head.

You have issues in general—daddy, mommy, and probably every other flavor. You like them toxic because boring men don’t deserve rights. You thrive in arguments, especially if you’re the one winning.

You have the worst taste in men, and you know it. You actively choose violence. You think hate sex fixes everything. Spoiler: it doesn’t. But you’ll still keep coming back for more.

You either have a degradation kink or you’re lying to yourself. You want someone to look you in the eyes and call you pathetic while simultaneously making you feel like the most desired person alive.

Into degradation? No, you’re into obliteration. You want to be called the most heinous names and still hear him say, “Good girl” after. If he spit in your mouth, you’d say “thank you” like it’s a five-star Yelp review.

You're the type to start arguments on purpose because makeup sex is your Olympic sport. You think misogyny is hot as long as it's directed at everyone but you (spoiler: Naoya’s a yandere, so he’ll worship you, but he’ll still be the absolute worst).

Brat taming. You want Naoya to slam you against a wall and hiss, "You're so mouthy for someone who's about to beg for mercy," and you’d call him an asshole just to see him lose it.

You also have a breeding kink, don’t lie.

You’re into enemies-to-lovers with 90% enemies and 10% begrudging affection.

You’re probably the most unhinged of them all. Like, “I hate him but also step on me” vibes. You’d start a fight with him for fun, only to let him win because he’s hotter when he’s smug. Also, your type in men is the human embodiment of the patriarchy, and that says a lot.

You also secretly love being called slurs in bed, and you’d let him ruin your life if it meant he’d pay attention to you. You tell people you don’t believe in second chances, yet you’d give him 47.

Naoya IS your red flag, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You’re also that person who gets mad when people insult your favorite character, even though your fave literally deserves it.

♡ Megumi Fushiguro.

You're into the quiet ones, but let’s be real, you know he’s one bad day away from snapping and going full “yandere shadow puppeteer” on you. You want someone who’s obsessively loyal, even to the point of chaining you to a radiator “for your safety.”

You’re that person who says, “I can fix him,” and you believe it. Spoiler: you can’t.

Soft yandere vibes are your weakness. You want him to apologize for locking you up and then immediately do it again. You cry during sex, and Megumi is your dream man because he’d hold you gently while fucking you senseless.

You’re basically the emotionally repressed type who cries over sad anime but denies having feelings. You low-key want to be fixed, but you also get off on being the problem.

Silent, brooding types who lose control just for you. You’d die if Megumi whispered, "I don’t care what happens to the world, as long as I have you," while dragging his nails down your skin.

You want a yandere who doesn’t look like one. You’re basically into emotionally constipated men who will quietly destroy anyone that looks at you wrong, but they’ll do it with zero fanfare.

Pretends he’s not obsessed, but you find out he’s been tracking your location via his Shikigami for weeks.

Slow burn? Try agonizingly torturous burn. You love the suffering.

Your kinks? Praise and ownership. You want a boyfriend who’ll carve your name into his soul and blush when you call him a good boy. You also cry during movies about dogs.

You fantasize about wholesome dates that spiral into him casually committing arson because someone looked at you the wrong way. You think being protected is sexy, but deep down, you know you’re the real danger.

You have main character syndrome, but you’re too awkward to admit it. You think you can “fix” people and are always attracted to brooding, emotionally unavailable boys. You’re the type to fall for someone because of their tragic backstory and spend hours analyzing their behavior like you’re trying to win a Nobel Prize.

People think you’re quiet and reserved, but deep down, you’re the freakiest person in the room.

Also, you want his demon dogs involved somehow, and we’re not unpacking that.

♡ Yuji Itadori.

You think sunshine boys are the ultimate bait-and-switch. You want someone sweet and wholesome on the surface but capable of going feral if someone threatens what’s his (spoiler: it’s you).

You’re into soft yanderes who make you think, “Wait, am I the villain here?” But then he kisses you with tears in his eyes and says, “I just don’t know what I’d do without you,” and you’re like, “Oh okay, my bad, ruin my life I guess.”

You’re delusional and think nice guys finish first. You believe you can fix him, even though there’s nothing broken except his moral compass after meeting Sukuna.

Your kinks? Consent (most stan a green flag king), but also low-key primal. You want someone who’s soft and sweet but will absolutely ruin you when pushed too far. Also, you’re probably into breathy whimpers.

You’re into soft yandere energy, like him cooking you dinner while thinking about how to “disappear” your coworker for complimenting your outfit. You also have a praise kink, but you want it to feel genuine. You’re high-key a romantic but still enjoy the thrill of danger.

You’re the type to fall for cinnamon rolls, but you secretly want them to have a feral, toxic side. You pretend to be wholesome but you’re just as depraved as the Sukuna stans—you just hide it better. Also, you’d probably call him “puppy” in bed, and he’d eat it up.

You probably fantasize about “accidentally” walking in on him shirtless after training.

You’re into strength kink. Yuji carrying you around like a sack of potatoes is your idea of foreplay.

If Yuji’s your fave, you’re into the gentle dom who’d snap someone’s neck for you aesthetic. He’d die for you, but he’d also kill for you. And you’re oddly okay with that.

Bonus points if you want to corrupt him because you think it’d be hot to see him snap.

You’re also the type to fall in love with someone because they smiled at you once in 2017.

♡ Toge Inumaki.

You want someone who won’t talk back. Literally. You think communication is overrated and fantasize about a partner who’ll just look at you with hungry eyes while whispering forbidden words into your ear.

You’re the quiet type who wants absolute filth whispered into your ear.

You want to be whispered sweet nothings like "sleep" and then wake up in his bed with a collar on. The duality of “onigiri” and “shut the fuck up” does things to you.

The idea of hearing nothing but the word “come” and losing your mind sends you feral.

You’re into restraint—both the literal and metaphorical kind. You’ve imagined him using cursed speech in the bedroom, and you know exactly how you’d want him to shut you up. You definitely think subtlety is sexier than overt passion.

You claim you like soft boys, but really, you’re just waiting for him to whisper something filthy in that raspy voice.

You’re into the duality of him being both your sweet protector and your most dangerous weakness.

You think “silent but deadly” is hot, but you also have a thing for guys who communicate through body language and emotional gestures. You probably have a Tumblr tag called “soft yanderes” that’s full of questionable content.

Your kinks? Teasing. You want to be pinned down, held firmly, and whispered sweet nothings in cursed speech that leave you trembling. Also, bondage. Don't not lie to yourself.

You think you’re subtle, but everyone knows you have a thing for quiet guys with devastatingly good bone structure. You’re also into the idea of being “the only one” who truly understands him. Let’s be real: you’d let him ruin your life with three words or less.

You’ve definitely thought about what those cursed speech commands could do in the bedroom, haven’t you? Don’t lie. “Stay.” “Kneel.” “Louder.” It’s a problem. You think you’re subtle, but the fact that you bookmarked that one smut fic about him proves otherwise.

You’ve also Googled "what does ‘salmon’ mean in bed" and debated buying a Toge cosplay for your next convention.

♡ Kenjaku.

You’re insane. Full stop.

You’re the type who’d fall for the villain just because they’re hot.

You tell yourself it’s because you “appreciate complex characters,” but it’s really because you have no self-preservation instincts. You’re also probably into weird shiz like non-human anatomy, but you’ll never admit it.

Let’s be honest: you’ve considered the implications of his ability to switch bodies. Your fantasies are wild, and you need a moment to collect yourself.

You want someone who’s both your daddy and mommy because Kenjaku’s body-hopping antics make that possible. Extreme levels of psychological manipulation and kinky body horror. A true deviant.

You’ve definitely read an NSFW fic about body possession and didn’t even flinch. You like the idea of someone who will tear your life apart but still call you their “greatest creation.”

You’re a mess. Like, emotionally and spiritually. You’ve been reading dark fanfics for so long that nothing fazes you anymore.

You don’t want love—you want chaos. You like characters who are 50% sexy and 50% terrifying. You probably think brain surgery is hot. You’re also into weird power dynamics where you’re both the victim and the accomplice.

You think mad scientist energy is hot, and you’d probably let him experiment on you just for the intimacy of it. You’re into power play and mind games, and the idea of someone controlling you physically and mentally is your ultimate kink. You’d sell your soul for five minutes of his attention, and he knows it. Your moral compass? Nonexistent. You just want to get tied up and brainwashed by a centuries-old freak.

You think it’s hot that he’d use your body as part of his experiments. You’d let him ruin your entire lineage for “science.”

You’re not even into happy endings; you just want to be obliterated.

♡ Shiu Kong.

If your favorite yandere is Shiu Kong, congratulations—you’re into men who could ruin your life with one smirk and a casual drag off their cigarette. You like your chaos with a suit and tie, and you’re absolutely weak for someone who looks like they’d call you “kid” while tying you to a chair in a dimly lit room. You’ve definitely fantasized about being the center of his cold, calculated obsession, probably while he’s adjusting his cufflinks and making morally questionable business deals.

You love the idea of a man who’s emotionally unavailable but physically possessive. Shiu wouldn’t say he loves you, but he’d definitely let you know you’re his. You probably have a thing for the cold, calculated type who’ll throw you a smirk that says, “You won’t survive me, but you’ll die happy.” Let’s be honest—you want someone who treats you like a business deal but kisses you like he’s closing the contract with teeth and tongue.

You’re into men who handle their business—and by business, we mean kidnapping, extortion, and murder with a side of snark. You probably tell yourself you’re into “stoic bad boys,” but let’s be real, you just want a man who can pin you against a wall and growl something like, “Don’t make me repeat myself, sweetheart.” Bonus points if it’s in a low, gravelly voice that makes your knees weak.

You’re the type to think a cigarette dangling from his lips while he manhandles you is peak romance. He’d pin you to a desk, adjust his suit jacket, and ask, “Do you really think anyone else could handle you like this?” in that calm, businesslike tone that makes you feral. You like being dominated by someone who looks like they just closed a multi-million-yen deal, and you want him to ruin you in the same suit he wore to work.

You want someone who exudes “don’t waste my time” energy but secretly has the patience to torment you until you’re begging (for mercy or more, who’s to say?). You saw him in that suit and immediately thought, “I wonder if he’d use that belt on me?” Spoiler: he would, but only after lighting a cigarette and telling you to be quiet.

You fantasize about someone who’ll say, “Don’t get attached,” while making you fall so hard you’re practically writing your own kidnapping ransom note.

You’re also into the grudging protector trope—he’ll act like he’s just “handling business,” but the second someone else looks at you wrong, you know he’s flipping tables and snarling something like, “They should’ve known better.” Bonus points if he dusts himself off afterward and says, “Clean yourself up, sweetheart. I’ve got plans for us.”

“I’ll only associate with you in hell” energy that screams hot and toxic.

———

P.S. Actually fun fact, among all JJK yanderes, I enjoy writing Kenjaku the most.

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Forbidden Fruits”: @uniquecutie-puffs , @ikevampharem , @tnsophiaonly , @mokingbrd78k , @cooldeermagazine , @mimitk , @xileonaaaa , @acacia-koi , @purple-obsidian , @waterfal-ling , @jjune-07 , @jsprien213 , @crimson-kisses , @tinandabin , @sashakittycloud

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slytherinshua · 1 day ago

Text

⏾　SLEEPLESS NIGHTS　( 오시온 )

genre hurt/comfort , established relationship , sion x fem!reader cw sion is stressed & can't sleep , maybe a bit of overworking mentioned , not proofread wc 875 request anon for sion + waking up from a bad dream for the 3k event note oof this took a lil while to write and post since i rewrote it like 3 times but it's finally here!! net @ncity-net @kstrucknet @chrimatanet

Sion was always one to put up a bold front. He was the oldest in his team, the leader, and as such, he had the responsibility of being a rock for everyone else to lean on. The cornerstone: immovable and unshakeable. He loved goofing around, smiling and laughing, mostly at his members, the people he was closest to. It was therapeutic in a way. Seeing them happy made him happy. All the stress he put on himself for them was worth it just to see them smile.

But when he got home to you, the chance to truly decompress from that stress came. And on particularly hard days at work, or a bad week building up, Sion felt close to breaking by the time he got home to you. You seemed to always know exactly what was going on in his head and exactly what he needed to relax. Somehow, you were able to repair him enough so he felt strong again for the next day.

He wondered what he would even do without you. While everyone was relying on him throughout the day, Sion relied on you during the night. Every warm hug, comforting kiss, and soft-spoken word reminded him that you would already be right by his side, through the highs and the lows. Whatever storm clouds blackened his mind; you were right there to fight them off, to bring the sun back again.

And sometimes, all it took was some rain.

Sion couldn’t sleep well. It was unusual. The man who claimed he could easily sleep for 24 hours straight was now unable to fall into that dreamland, despite how exhausted his body was. He kept drifting in and out of dreams— all of them unpleasant. His schedule had been particularly busy that week, and his workload as the leader was especially challenging. He tried to not let it affect the team, always doing the best he could regardless of his mental or physical state. Professionalism seemed to run through his veins. He wanted to set a good example for the younger boys as well. He couldn’t show how much he was struggling as well. Not in front of them.

But, in front of you, he was able to be vulnerable. He could tell you all his worries without it affecting team morale. You were a shoulder to lean on— his comfort. He relied on you more than he would like to admit. There were always fun times in your relationship, but nothing was ever perfect. During the harder times, you held each other tighter and got through it as a team. If there was one thing you promised when you first called Sion your boyfriend, was that you wouldn’t leave him to suffer through something alone.

Sion tossed and turned, mind dizzy from the miserable dreams he was having whenever he managed to force his body to sleep. It was probably 3AM by now, and he knew he had to get up by 6. He needed more sleep.

He hated disturbing you, especially when you looked so comfortable under the blankets, one leg propped up over his under them. But he also knew what you would say if you saw him leave for work tired again. Your skin was warm, and he was aching to hold you closer. So, he swallowed his selflessness and turned over, leaving the blank ceiling from his vision and replacing it with your sleeping face.

He rubbed your arm gently, waiting for you to stir. And it didn’t take long; you had always been a light sleeper, unlike him. Once you blinked your eyes open enough to adjust your vision, noticing the outline of your boyfriend’s face and how he was awake, you knew something must be wrong.

“What’s wrong, baby?” you sat up, fully alert by now. Your boyfriend was never awake this late in the night. You were about to reach for the lamp until Sion’s hand stopped you.

“It’s nothing serious. Just can’t sleep,” he mumbled, voice sleepier than yours despite his obvious lack of it.

“Can’t sleep? That is serious,” you pointed out, lying back down on the pillow. “Nightmares?”

“Yeah, I guess. I think I’m just stressed,” your boyfriend admitted, hand rubbing over his eyes.

“Work has been a lot lately. I’ll help you get to sleep. Come here,” you motioned him closer, and Sion obliged, falling into your arms with ease. You adjusted his messy hair to be out of his face and rubbed his back, hoping to lull him to sleep as quickly as possible. A 7AM workday start certainly didn’t leave much more time.

“You put too much pressure on yourself, baby,” you reminded him while your fingers traced lines over his face in a soothing manner. He hummed in acknowledgement, agreeing to your statement wordlessly.

You knew it would take more of you repeating those words for him to truly ease some of that pressure off his back, but you were determined to win the race steadily. In these simple moments, your love for Sion shone the brightest. When he was at his weakest, you were his strength. When he felt broken, you pieced him back together again. And he knew he could always rely on you.

nct wish taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @lexeees,, @nyukyusnz,, @planetkiimchi,,

@haecien,, @talkingsaxy,, @thesunsfullmoon,, @hursheys,, @mjupis,,

@lilly-cherry7,, @kpopandbookschild,, @taroddori,, @lexeees,, @voikiraz,,

@xikskrrrs,, @cupidslovearrows

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11queensupreme11 · 3 days ago

Note

After that last chapter imagine Percy gets a thirst for flesh or blood of a god and one day she literally does eat a god I can imagine Poseidon’s reaction would either be “awwwww look at my daughter/wife would you like me to get you another one?? Are you not full yet?” Or “if you wanted the flesh of a god why didn’t you just ask me?!? Who knows where that thing has been🙄”

Either way I can just see him not caring that Percy is a cannibal tbh he’d probably just fully support her or sum I can even see their kids having that same issue with being cannibals ( imagine that being a whole thing with their kids mermaids feed on the flesh of humans while their kids feed on the flesh of gods )

But how would the other yanderes and the other gods/humans react?

WAIT UR ASK JUST MADE ME REALIZE I COMPLETELY FORGOT TO TELL YOU GUYS SOMETHING.

okay so in the last chapter, i asked you guys if the whole blood-drinking thing counted as cannibalism cuz i put it in the warnings and all. and i got a lot of feedback saying it didn't count and only flesh eating was considered cannibalism.

i lowkey started contemplating going back and just removing the cannibalism warning but then i had.... an idea 💡

why don't i just make her a REAL cannibal then by having her eventually eat godly flesh later on!!! 😋😋😋

so yes, the cannibalism warning still stands because percy will eat DIVINE FLESH in the future!!!!!!!!!! cuz why not lmao. i love monstrous mermaids/sirens in the og horror stories where they eat people, might as well have our little mermaid evolve from drinking gods' ichor to EATING THEIR FLESH 👹👹👹

the other yans wouldn't give a shit at all tbh. once they realize ichor temporarily puts an end to her ever-growing tortuous agony of her soul being split apart, best believe they're gonna serve her as much ichor as they can to keep her from feeling any pain (not too much tho cuz they don't want her to incinerate herself). hell, they would even prefer it if she were to feed from THEM and actually get jealous if she were to feed on others 😂😂😂

in cú chulainn's case tho, since he's a demigod (and who knows.... maybe that could change in the future.... 👹) and has no ichor, he would definitely hunt down gods for her. this dude beat the supreme god and the ruler of the egyptian pantheon, he would ABSOLUTELY hunt gods for sport to feed his needy little cannibal 🥺

the other gods would be a little stunned tho. cuz if you remember my old posts about the ror giants (here), gods and other beings were eaten alive and killed by gaea's giants. but they'd get over it eventually cuz it's percy. she is nothing like the giants, hell they could tell that she's even ashamed of herself after it happens so they're not worried about her randomly deciding to just kill every god

the humans tho?! they might be a little weirded out at first, but the second they realize it's GODS she's feeding from?????? oohhhhh my god, they're gonna be so entertained by it 😂😂😂 like "yes child, feast on the evil gods!!!!!" hell, i can see some of them even buying her a special bib and utensil set for this LMAO

#👸🏻| asks #👸🏻| arsenic blues

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nectar-cellar · 2 days ago

Text

some thoughts on creating custom cars

i tried to give the hunka 711 a longer wheelbase (as pictured above) and it resulted in some trouble.

1: wheels

so the first thing i learned is: if cloning from an EA car, keep the meshes of the wheels in the same place, do not move them forward or backward along the z-axis. shifting them on the x-axis, such as making them wider/thinner, seems fine. you must keep the wheels of a custom car mesh in the same place as the ea car clone, or else the wheels will animate horribly when the car is in motion even if the bones are assigned correctly.

bloom says that if you're cloning from a Fast Lane SP car, it is possible to shorten/extend the wheelbase using his method, however i haven't tried this. i believe most cc cars (freshprince, dailycard, understrech) are not cloned from Fast Lane SP cars, but regular EA cars instead.

the joints are usually assigned this way: 1 for the car body, then 1 joint for each of the 4 wheels. you can look at an EA car for reference. it is probably best to assign the bones/joints manually as using Mesh Toolkit may assign bits of the car's body mesh to the wheel joint, causing that area to distort when the car is in motion.

2: rigs

as mentioned above, in bloom's forum post, he describes a way to edit the Fast Lane car's wheel placement by editing the RIG resource inside the car's package file.

the rig editor is an add-on to s3pe which can be downloaded here.

to edit a car's rig resource, you need to install the add-on. then: open the car's package in s3pe, right-click on the "rig" resource, then click on "rig editor".

the rig resource also controls where the sim sits inside the vehicle. if you want to edit the sim's position, this is what you need to edit in rig editor:

look for the resources with "IKtarget_seat" in the name. this controls the general seat placement of the sims in the vehicle. in the rig editor's screen on the right, you can edit the X Y and Z coordinates of the position. the X coordinate will move the sim left or right, Y will move the sim up or down, and Z will move the sim forward or backward. there are 4 "IKtarget_seat" resources, i don't know which controls the driver seat or passenger seats but you'll probably want to edit all the coordinates with the same changes to be consistent.

"IKtarget_foot": these resources control the placement of the sim's feet when sitting inside the car, like how stretched out or tucked in their legs are.

"IKtarget_SteeringWheel_01 and 02": these resources control the left and right hand placement on the steering wheel. if your sim's hands are misaligned with the steering wheel while driving, these are the resources to edit.

3: shadow meshes

in tsr workshop, each level of detail's mesh (high, medium, low) has a corresponding shadow mesh. if you've made significant changes to an existing car mesh, or if you've imported an entirely new car mesh over an EA car, you will also want to generate new shadow meshes so that the car's shadow looks correct in-game. if you do not generate new shadow meshes, you are likely to see weird misaligned shadows on the car's body, and the car's sun shadow on the ground will look off. so make sure to generate new ones for EVERY level of detail. tsr workshop has a one-click button that does it so it's pretty quick once you're satisfied with the actual car mesh. you can try generating high, medium and low LOD shadow meshes, or you can try generating shadow meshes using the high LOD mesh for the high, medium and low shadows to see if you get better quality shadows in-game.

ok so those are some not-so-obvious things i learned while working on my car projects... i hope it's useful to someone !!!

#s3cc #idk wat else to tag this

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ktownshizzle · 6 hours ago

Text

A Christmas Encore | Part 2 of 2

Part of A Holly, Jolly Holiday with Min Yun-Kay collab with @yooglefics

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: You never thought you’d see Min Yoongi again, not in this lifetime, not in this place. He left years ago with big dreams and bigger talent, trading snow-covered Seollim Hollow for the city lights of Seoul. But now, with the cultural center—the heart of your hometown—on the verge of being sold to a soulless corporation, you’ll do anything to save it.

When Yoongi appears on your doorstep, it feels like a miracle wrapped in regret. But as the two of you work together to save the center, old promises resurface, along with feelings you thought you’d left behind. Can you trust someone who was never meant to stay? Or will you just get hurt again?

✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Childhood Friends to Kinda Lovers to Kinda Strangers to Friends to Lovers (WHAT?! Yeah I got dizzy too) Second chances basically, Fluff, Smut, Mild Angst, Very Hallmark

✎ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: MINORS DNI 18+ only. Cheesy, sometimes theatrical dialogue (just roll with it please), Christmas cliches, Yoongi at the Christmas concert is this right here), mild angst, cursing, minor mention of the pandemic, penetrative sex (wrap it before your tap it!), Yoongi's company/job is vague (it's fine!), did I say cheesy??

✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: ~7k

✎ ˎˊ˗ Posting Date: January 13, 2025

✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: Hello ho ho. Sorry it took a while to get this out! I was being a little scrooge by the end of this (who knew Christmas fics can be super challenging?) I do hope you enjoy part 2 of my little Hallmark-inspired Holiday gift. Enjoy! 🫶🏼🎉

Part One | Part Two | Masterlist

Yoongi doesn’t make a big deal out of your first date, but it still feels perfect. He takes you to a quiet café just outside town, the kind of place you’d never think to visit but where the coffee is rich and the pastries are warm.

The conversation comes easy—too easy, maybe. You laugh more than you have in weeks, just like old times. As you talk about the coming concert, an idea pops in your head. It’s not that serious, if anything, you just want to tease him a bit. “Maybe you and Hobi should do a breakdance routine at the show!”

He slurps the final dredges of his coffee, blinks up once, before blatantly ignoring you.

“Oh, come on, you really don’t miss breakdancing?” you try again.

“I don’t miss it. Do you?” He raises a brow.

“Miss what?”

“Miss him.”

Suddenly, you’re the Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland. “Oh, Yoongi…”

He averts his gaze, lip curving in the barest of ways before he looks down, poking the base of his glass with his straw. He’s a little embarrassed.

You sigh, endeared to no end as you see the tips of his ears growing red by the second. You decide to take him out of his misery. “No, Yoongi, I do not miss Hoseok that way. We’re really just friends.”

Yoongi groans, slouching back in his chair, and, not gonna lie, it makes you feel some typa way.

You wonder if he sees you now as some homie hopper slash town harlot, which fuck him if does so you ask. “Does it really bother you?”

Probably sensing the weight in your voice, he leans forward quickly and takes both your hands to reassure you. “Fuck, no. I’m just… shit I’m so bad at this.”

“At what?”

“You’re really gonna make me say it?”

You shrug.

Yoongi huffs a laugh, shaking his head as he leans back, but his gaze lingers on you, his expression softening. “I’m glad we’re finally doing this.”

“Yeah, it took us only all of a decade and a half,” you roll your eyes. “A literal pandemic had to happen.”

He’s quiet for a moment, looking at you again with his piercing stare—apologetic, maybe. “I’m not too late, right?”

You think you might just melt if it wasn’t below zero outside.

When Yoongi invites you back to his parents’ house that night, you don’t hesitate.

You head straight to his room and it instantly feels smaller than you remember, even if you were just there weeks ago. But it’s still so homey and familiar, full of little remnants of the boy you used to know—the boy you loved before you knew what it meant to really love someone.

And then he kisses you again, over and over, against the poster-covered wooden door, and all the years you spent apart fall away like snowflakes dissolving against your skin.

The way you make your way back to each other is slow and careful, but it doesn’t take long for the tension that’s been building for weeks to snap. His hands are warm against your skin, his lips soft and insistent, and when he pulls you onto the bed, it’s with a gentleness that leaves you breathless.

He sits by the headboard, guiding you towards his lap. He bites his lip as you situate yourself over him, grunting when you make contact against his crotch.

“Is Teenage Yoongi losing his mind right now?” You joke lightly, straddling his hips as you start unbuttoning your blouse, revealing your red lace bra.

He growls, actually growls. “Who cares about that loser,” he pulls you to capture your bottom lip while you shrug your blouse off. “Present Yoongi is so fucking hard right now, do somethin’ bout it…”

“Ohhh shit, Present Yoongi gets to make demands?” You plant both palms against his (apparently) really toned chest. Who knew?

“Present Yoongi hopes you’d do something about it,” he amends, taking one of your hands to kiss the inside of your wrist, once, twice, then leads your hand where your bodies are connecting.

He was not lying. In fact he may even be underselling it because while you cannot wrap your head around his sheer solidness, you certainly want to wrap your mouth around it. Shit.

You clamber off him, taking him by surprise, and he looks like you slapped him across the face.

“Relax, I got you, baby,” you say giggling as you guide his legs to swing over the side of the bed. “Go on, take that off,” you gesture to his pants while you peel yours off with a shimmy. And when he sees that all that’s left is the matching lace panty, his clothes immediately fly off to join the rest of yours.

The sight of his cock leaves your mouth watering, and you sink to your knees without further ado. You grasp his thick, velvety shaft, pumping lightly before guiding the tip towards the warmth of your mouth. You suck on the head once like a lollipop, releasing it with a tiny pop, repeating it as your eyes lock on him.

“Shit, I knew you’d look good on your knees,” he goads, biting his thumbnail with a smirk playing in his lips.

You decide you wanna erase the cocky grin on his face. So you draw him in quickly until he hits the back of your throat, the skin of your lips almost splitting from the sudden stretch. He stutters. You let drool coat his warm cock as your tongue glides up.

His deep, gravelly fuck, baby spurs you on, but also makes your basement gush. His voice is just… Ugh. You’ll deal with your own needs later, because you are on a mission.

You suck him like you’ve got a point to prove. Like he shouldn’t have left you all those years ago. Like he should’ve parked his ass right here and maybe you could’ve given it to him every damn night. Just like this.

When you hear the shortness of his breath, you know he’s really getting to it. So you suck him so damn good he’s left wondering how you got that good.

“A-a-ahh, hold up,” he stammers, stopping your movements with a gentle pull of your hair.

You sit on the balls of your feet, wiping your chin with the back of your palm. It’s your turn to have a cocky grin.

“You…” he shakes his head, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “My turn.”

He yanks you from the floor and throws you into the bed. And the next thing you know your panties are almost ripped from your legs and you’re spread open on top of his navy duvet like a Sunday feast.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs, nosing your pussy gingerly, before giving it a whiff. “Fuck you smell so good.”

“Yoongi,” you squirm, propping your upper body with your elbows to watch the debauchery unfold. Or at least you hope so, but it seems like he wants to make you beg for it with the way he's leisurely blowing air across your damp skin.

“Please…” you beg, body tingling with desire.

“I’ve thought about this, you know,” Yoongi says looking up at you, before licking a broad stripe across your cunt. “A lot.” He does it again, tongue digging a little deeper to flick against your clitoris.

“Shit,” you tip your head back, already in a haze of lust. “Me too…”

“Really?” He shifts his position, then runs his knuckles up and down your glistening folds, each joint nudging your clit as it glides.

A cold shiver travels down your spine. “Oh god yes…”

“How are you already this wet?” he chuckles, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the inside of your thighs, pulling your leg up one shoulder.

“Yoongi,” you plead. “I didn’t tease…”

“Liar,” he says with a sinister grin, now toying with your hole with his index finger and looping your slick around like he has nothing better to do.

What in fresh hell is he talking about? And also, goddamit you need him inside you literally yesterday and he's still clowning around.

“I didn't tease you…” You whine, needy.

“Oh, but you did,” he mumbles against your skin, biting the soft flesh so close to your mound before laving it with his tongue. “Made me think you had a boyfriend, when all along, I could’ve given you this...”

You gasp as he inserts his finger inside you and already you clench around the lone intrusion.

“And this,” he adds another.

You don't even realize you're bucking your hips up until he guides you back down with an infuriating smile. “Easy, baby, we got all night.”

“But, your cock. Need it…”

“Maybe. You gon’ be a good girl for me?”

You nod. Yes, you want to be his good girl.

Finally he gives you mercy, and his mouth connects with your clit and sucks and you feel like heaven. Two fingers slide in and out of you in practiced strokes. You're already so wound up, it doesn't take long for you to kiss euphoria.

“Feels so good, Yoon…” You fist his sheets, back arching up, as you feel your demise fast approaching. He notices.

“Let go, baby.” he says, before the furious lashing of his tongue resumes against your nub.

Keeping the pace steady, he curls his fingers just slightly, allowing the pads to massage your walls until he finds the one spot that–

Fuck.

Light bursts behind your lids as you come, fast, hard, loud with a prolonged moan of his name.

Your back meets the bed’s plush as your orgasm washes over you. But before you come down, you feel a fresh surge of bliss as Yoongi takes a nipple inside his mouth, giving it tiny nibbles.

Your free arm reaches for his cock. He lifts his hip up slightly, so you can give it a few lazy strokes.

Before long, he shifts completely, leaning over you, his hair brushing against your forehead in feathery strokes. The ache inside you both lingers, unsated, but the world seems to slow around you. There’s a tenderness in the way he moves—his lips tracing a delicate path along your face. He presses soft kisses to your eyelids, your cheek, and the curve of your jaw, each one deliberate, each one unraveling you a little more.

“You’re still as beautiful as I remember,” he says before meeting your mouth for a kiss so sweet, your head is in the clouds again. “Do you still hate me, baby?”

You kiss him back, your reply coming in breathy cadences as your lips melt against each other. “I… don’t think… I ever could.”

And it’s true, wrapped around each other like this, the pains of the past slowly ebb away.

You feel a small smile on his lips, maybe a hint of relief. His tongue pushes in yours as you feel his cock rubbing up against your pussy lips, both of you breathing heavily with the delicious friction. He ruts up a few more times before you feel his blunt tip breaching your entrance, not going all the way in but teasing it in a way that leaves you wanting more, more, more and now.

“Get in me, Yoon. Want it…”

His reply is the push of this thick cock inside you, slow and slick, before he bottoms out with a grunt. You keen, your body bowing towards him on instinct, legs wrapping against his back.

He fills you up, wholly and completely, with every smooth stroke, your walls flutter around his girth and your heart is thumping against your ribcage, but you know it’s not just the ecstasy from your impending release. It’s from the way your eyes meet and you feel like you’re drowning again. Just like you did the first time. And you don’t ever want to come up for air.

“I’m so close…” your voice is strangled when you say it, your fingers clinging to his shoulders for dear life.

His mouth finds that sensitive spot under your ear, licking it, encouraging you to take it with whispers you can’t decipher. Your brain is so fucking empty, and all you know is every fibre of your being is submitting to him at this very moment.

“You feel amazing, fuck,” he grunts, tone as desperate as you are. “You gonna cream for me again, huh?” His thrusts get faster, deeper and it feels like your about to tip over the edge.

“Ah– baby, I’m coming…” Your entire body quivers against him as intense pleasure racks your body.

The rest is a blur as your eyes flutter shut, and Yoongi groans as he spills his seed against your clammy skin, hot liquid pooling on the inside of your thigh.

Later, after he cleans you up and gives you the cuddles your tired body craves for, you’re tangled together in the sheets. You rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. You’re hit with de ja vu.

“Don’t leave,” you whisper.

Yoongi’s arms tighten around you, his lips brushing lightly against your forehead. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs.

This time, you believe him with all your heart.

The days that follow feel like they belong to someone else. Someone living a life where everything falls perfectly into place—where the person they once thought they’d lost forever suddenly fits back into their world like they’d never been gone.

The tree lot smells like pine and cold, sharp winter air. You rub your hands together to keep them warm, your breath fogging in front of you as Yoongi stands a few steps away, examining a tree with a furrowed brow.

“This one’s perfect,” you say, pointing to the lush, symmetrical pine beside him. The store owner even added some gold tinsel on it to dress it up for buyers, making it look super sunshine-y and brilliant.

He turns, glancing at the tree. “It’s too… obvious,” he says, his lips twitching. “Look at it. It’s trying too hard.”

You laugh. “How can a tree try too hard?”

“It’s trying too hard to make you take them home,” Yoongi says, moving down the row. He stops in front of a shorter, slightly scraggly tree, with whitish branches and paler pine needles. “This one’s got character.”

“It’s literally lopsided… and so pale…”

“It’s cool,” he counters, brushing snow off one of the branches. Strangely, they even have the same height. “This is the underdog tree. You should root for it.”

You cross your arms, pretending to consider. “Or… we could go with a tree that doesn’t look like it fought a bear and lost.”

Yoongi looks back at you, his dark eyes narrowing in mock offense. “Nah, you’ve got zero vision.”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of vision,” you retort, stepping closer. “You’re the one who—”

Before you can finish, he shakes a branch, sending a spray of snow directly onto your face.

“Yoongi!” you shout, jumping back and wiping at your eye, careful not to smudge your perfectly drawn eyeliner.

He smirks, unapologetic. “Underdog tree got bite.”

Later, back at your place, the tree you agreed on stands in your living room. When it’s finally lit, glowing softly in the corner of the room, you look over at Yoongi and find him watching you, his face softened by the light.

“What?” you ask, your voice quieter now.

He shrugs, his gaze lingering. “Nothing.”

Your eyes move towards the tinsel and the lights, “Underdog tree does have character.”

“I fuckin’ told you.” He grabs you from behind, excited that you finally saw his vision, and plants several kisses on your cheek.

“This is a terrible idea,” you mutter, gripping the railing like your life depends on it.

“You’ll be fine,” Yoongi says, already gliding onto the ice with an infuriating amount of ease. “Just let go of the railing. You’re overthinking it.”

“Overthinking it?!” you sputter, inching forward like a baby deer learning to walk. “This isn’t natural. People weren’t meant to stand on blades and slide around!”

Yoongi smirks, skating backward so he can face you, his movements smooth and effortless. “Aren’t you the one who’s lived here forever? Shouldn’t you be the pro?”

You shoot him a glare, your knees wobbling. “Skating and living in Seollim Hollow are not the same thing.”

“Sure they aren’t,” he teases, extending a hand toward you. “Come on. I won’t let you fall.”

You eye his outstretched hand with suspicion. “If I fall, I’m taking you with me.”

“Deal.”

Reluctantly, you release your death grip on the railing and grab his hand. The ice feels impossibly slippery beneath your feet, and your balance shifts precariously as you stumble forward.

“Whoa—” Yoongi steadies you, his grip firm. “You really suck at this, still.”

“I told you, ughhhh,” you grumble, trying not to panic as he starts pulling you along.

“You just need to loosen up,” he says, clearly holding back a laugh. “Stop thinking so much.”

“I’m going to die,” you say flatly as your skates skid in opposite directions.

“Not on my watch.”

Yoongi’s hand tightens around yours as he leads you into the center of the rink. Despite your protests, he doesn’t let go, guiding you with patience as you wobble and shriek your way through your first lap. By the time you’ve gone around twice, you’re still far from graceful, but at least you’re no longer clinging to him for dear life. -ish.

“You’re getting the hang of it.”

“No thanks to you,” you retort.

“The fuck?” he says, letting go of you abruptly and you shriek, flailing.

But he captures you effortlessly and spins you around and suddenly you’re hugging in the middle of the rink. You’re still catching your breath when you look up at him, then he leans down and kisses you.

“Is this some kind of fantasy you’re trying to fulfill, Min Yoongi?”

“I’m just trying to make up for lost time.” Then, he leans in again and from the corner of your eye you spot a mom shielding her son from the sight of you and Yoongi, before your eyes flutter shut.

“I forgot you always liked to yap during movies,” Yoongi says, mouth forming a straight line.

“This movie’s so boring,” you reply, gesturing at the screen. “How can you be into this? It’s so… predictable.”

“That’s the point,” he says, leaning back into the couch. “Christmas movies are supposed to be predictable.”

Despite your apprehension, you find yourself sinking deeper into the couch, tolerating the movie and before you know it you’re engrossed with the plot, because, umm, it’s actually so good?!

“Omo! He came back for—” you turn to him and well, he’s fallen asleep, like the bobblehead toy on your car’s dash.

You move his head gently against your shoulder, his breath evening out. For a moment, you consider waking him, but instead, you let yourself relax, leaning slightly into his warmth.

From this view you can see his long lashes, the gentle slope of his nose, the soft curve of his lips and you’re suddenly flooded with emotions that you thought you buried so long ago. Maybe it’s meant to be this time. So you allow yourself to quietly admit it.

“I love you,” you whisper, even though he can’t hear you.

The snow crunches softly beneath your boots as the two of you walk side by side, the cold air nipping at your cheeks. The town is quiet at this hour, the streets lit by the faint glow of holiday lights, and for a while, neither of you says anything.

“I used to hate this,” Yoongi says suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Hate what?”

“Winter,” he replies, shoving his hands into his pockets. “The cold. The snow. I felt… stuck. Like nothing ever changed.”

You glance at him, your breath fogging in the air. “And now?”

He shrugs, his gaze fixed on the snowflakes drifting lazily from the sky. “It doesn’t feel so bad anymore.”

The words are simple, quiet, but they satisfy you in a way you don’t expect.

At some point, Yoongi bends down and scoops up a handful of snow, tossing it lightly at your shoulder.

“Fuck! Did you just—”

“Snowball fight?” he interrupts, smirking.

You retaliate immediately, grabbing snow and throwing it at him with no hesitation. The two of you dissolve into laughter, dodging and weaving through the empty street until you’re both breathless and covered in snow.

“Truce,” Yoongi says, holding up his hands.

“Fine,” you reply, grinning as you catch your breath.

For a moment, you just stand there, the snow falling softly around you. Yoongi’s eyes linger on yours, his expression softer now, and your heart stumbles at the way he looks at you—like he’s trying to memorize this moment.

“Thanks,” he says quietly.

“For what?”

“For this,” he murmurs, gesturing around him. “For reminding me why I came back.”

You and Yoongi fall into an easy rhythm, one that feels almost too good to be true. Mornings at the cultural center turn into afternoons spent working side by side—him scribbling notes onto sheet music while you answer emails and manage ticket sales. Sometimes, you’ll both stop to grab dinner at the little diner down the street or head back to your place where you cook something simple while he steals pieces of food off your cutting board.

Nights are quieter. Softer. When the world feels too still, Yoongi finds his way to your side—whether it’s a late phone call or the two of you under your duvet.

You don’t talk about what happens next. You don’t ask if he’ll stay when the concert is over, and he doesn’t offer to explain.

The night of the concert is perfect.

The performers are brilliant—the children’s choir sings their hearts out, the folk band gets the crowd clapping, and the dancers earn a standing ovation. Yoongi’s arrangements tie everything together seamlessly, each note lifting the room higher and higher until it feels like the entire town is glowing.

Before he goes on stage, Yoongi gives you a mini heart attack. He tells you that he’s playing a different piece. Trust me, he says.

You don’t say much after, because while you don’t like to be blindsided for an important night like this, you also trust his judgment.

And when Yoongi takes the stage, sitting at the piano under the soft glow of the stage lights, you think you might actually cry. He adjusts the mic, shakes his newly dyed black hair, and starts to play. It’s a song you’ve never heard before—something gentle and wistful, the kind of melody that wraps itself around you like a memory. You watch his hands move across the keys, effortless and sure, his expression soft with focus, and you realize you’ve never seen him look more himself than he does in this moment.

Suddenly Jungkook’s angelic vocals slide seamlessly through the melody, “Was it honestly the best…”

For the first time in years, you let yourself hope that the best is yet to come.

When the concert ends and the crowd finally clears, you and your team stay late, cleaning up the venue, storing props, and celebrating quietly with a bottle of champagne Jimin “borrowed” from the local bar. Yoongi stays, too, quietly helping to pack away cables and lights while Jungkook regales the group with exaggerated stories about the night’s performances.

It’s not until the clock hits two in the morning that you’re finally back home, exhausted but still buzzing with the afterglow of the show.

When you wake the next morning, it feels like the entire world is holding its breath. Today is the day. Today, you’ll know if it was enough.

The cultural center feels too quiet as you sit at your desk, staring at the final numbers. Your chest feels tight, the numbers swimming on the page no matter how many times you try to tally them.

You didn’t raise enough. You’re 10 per cent short.

The realization hits like a punch to the gut, and you have to close your eyes for a moment to steady yourself. It’s so close—painfully close—but it’s not enough. And you ran out of time.

You swallow the lump in your throat and grab your coat.

Mr. Choi doesn’t look surprised when you tell him.

“You did good,” he says, though his voice is heavy with finality. “But it’s not enough to match their offer. I’m sorry.”

“There has to be another way,” you insist, the desperation creeping into your voice. “What if I talk to the buyer? What if they’ll accept—”

He sighs, shaking his head. “You can try,” he says reluctantly. “The buyer’s representative is still in town.”

Your heart skips. “Who is it?”

He flips through a file on his desk, his tone casual as he reads the document, “Min Yoongi.”

The room tilts. You stare at him, uncomprehending. “Who?”

“Min Yoongi,” he repeats, glancing up at you. “He’s the representative for the corporation looking to buy the property. I can give you his e-mail address…”

The words hit you like ice water, each one sinking deeper until you can’t breathe. Yoongi.

It doesn’t make sense. How could he—?

Why would he—?

You don’t even remember leaving the municipal office. You don’t remember driving to Yoongi’s house, pounding on the door.

“Yoongi.”

“Hey,” he starts, his expression shifting when he sees your face. “What’s—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, your voice trembling. “Don’t act like everything’s fine. Just tell me the truth, Yoongi. Were you ever going to tell me you’re the buyer?”

The color drains from his face. “You found out.”

“That’s all you have to say?” you snap, your chest tightening as the hurt spills out of you. “You fucking lied to me, Yoongi. This whole time—why? Why would you let me fight for this place if you were just going to take it away?”

“I wasn’t going to take it away,” he says quickly, his voice strained. “Not anymore.”

You stare at him, disbelief crashing into you. “What does that even mean?”

Yoongi exhales, running a hand through his hair. “It means I didn’t know what this place still meant to you when I came back. I thought it was just another deal. Another property my company wanted to acquire.”

“And when you did know?” Your voice cracks, your anger laced with pain. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Yoongi hesitates, his hands curling into fists. “Because I didn’t want to ruin everything.”

You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “Well, congratulations. You ruined it anyway.”

“Stop,” he says softly, reaching out, but you step back. “Let me finish.”

“No.” you say. “This,” gesturing to him and you, “is finished.”

The next few days are a blur of misery. The maknaes try to distract you, but nothing works. Yoongi’s absence feels like a physical thing—an ache that sits heavy in your chest no matter what you do.

The memory of his voice echoes in your mind, soft and broken, but it only makes the pain in your heart worse.

When you hear from his mother that he’s left town, it shouldn’t surprise you. Of course he’s gone. That’s what Yoongi does.

But somehow, it hurts more this time.

Christmas Day comes and goes.

For the first time in forever, you don’t get a post card from Yoongi.

The glow from your phone illuminates the room as the opening chords of Last Christmas begin to play through your Bluetooth speaker. You’re on your bed, surrounded by chaos—crumpled tissues, a mostly empty tub of ice cream balanced precariously on your thigh, and the infamous box of postcards from Yoongi spilled across your sheets.

The postcards feel heavier than they should, each one like a tiny punch to the chest. You pick one up at random—a simple postcard of a Seoul skyline dusted with snow. Yoongi’s neat handwriting is scrawled on the back: Merry Christmas. Hope you’re staying warm.

Snot drips onto the edge of the card, and you yelp, scrambling to wipe it off. “Oh my God, I’ve hit rock bottom,” you groan, tossing the tissue into the general direction of the trash can but missing entirely.

You glance at the box again, and the next card catches your eye. You sniffle harder, and your vision blurs again.

Your eyes land on one of the Polaroids from the box, its edges slightly bent from years of flipping through them. It’s an old selfie Yoongi sent—his mint green hair poking out from under a beanie, but his sharp eyes and stupidly pretty smirk still visible. “I hate you,” you mumble, though the ache in your chest says otherwise.

You grab a Sharpie from your nightstand and draw devil horns sprouting from his head, a dramatic handlebar mustache, and, for good measure, a pitchfork in the corner.

Three sharp knocks sound at the door, startling you. You quickly swipe at your face, sitting up. “Who is it?”

“It’s me,” Hoseok’s voice calls through the door.

Oh no. You glance at the mess around you—the tissues, the ice cream, the pile of Yoongi memorabilia that screams pathetic. “Go away, Hobi! I’m fine.”

The door creaks open anyway, and Hoseok steps in, his ever-present sunshine energy cutting through the gloom of your room. You forget he knows where the spare key is hidden.

He takes one look at you—puffy eyes, snotty tissues, Wham still crooning in the background—and doesn’t bother to hide his grin. “Wow. This is a whole ass vibe.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, tossing a pillow weakly in his direction.

He catches it easily, stepping further into the room. His eyes fall on the postcards scattered across the bed, and his teasing expression softens. “So it’s true, then.”

You blink. “What’s true?”

Hoseok sets the pillow down and walks over, sitting on the edge of your bed. He doesn’t say anything right away, just glances at the Polaroid still clutched in your hand. “I’m not even gonna ask about that. Yoongi told me what happened.”

Your stomach twists, embarrassment rising like a tidal wave. “Great. Now everyone knows how much of an idiot I am.”

“Hey,” he says gently, nudging your shoulder. “You’re not an idiot. Yoongi’s the idiot.”

That gets a weak laugh out of you, and Hoseok’s smile widens. He leans in, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. It’s so warm, so comforting, that you let yourself melt into it, burying your face in his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I know how much he means to you.”

You sniffle. “Why do you sound like he’s dead?”

Hoseok laughs, pulling back just enough to look at you. “Because you’re acting like it.”

“Did he send you here?” you ask, narrowing your eyes.

“No,” Hoseok says quickly. “But he… he wants you to hear him out. He messed up, yeah, but…” He glances at the postcards again. “You guys are made for each other. That’s obvious. Even to a third party like me.”

You groan, throwing yourself back onto the bed dramatically. “It’s not that simple, Hobi.”

“Nothing about love is simple,” he says, lying down beside you. His gaze moves to the ceiling as he continues. “And honestly? You two are the most disgustingly in love people I’ve ever seen.”

Your head snaps toward him. “We are not—”

“Oh, really?” Hoseok interrupts, his grin returning. “Because I saw you and Yoongi making out in the middle of the skating rink. Right there. In public. In front of children.”

Your jaw drops. “You what?”

“Yeah. Had to shield my eyes from the sheer amount of PDA,” he teases. “I almost called it in as a public disturbance.”

You can’t help it—you laugh. A real, genuine laugh that feels like it breaks through the heaviness in your chest. “You’re so stupid.”

He glances at the mess on your bed one more time before standing. “Look, I’m not saying you have to forgive him right now. But at least let him explain. You deserve to know the truth.”

He pats your head lightly, like a parent soothing a child. “Now, go wash your face. You look like Mrs. Claus who failed a breathalyzer.”

“That’s a dumb joke!” You chuck a pillow at him again, but this time, you’re laughing as he dodges it and disappears out the door.

For the first time in days, you feel a little lighter.

When Mr. Choi calls you the next morning, you almost don’t pick up.

“The offer’s been retracted,” he says, his voice calm but tinged with disbelief. “The cultural center is safe.”

You blink, stunned. “What?”

“Not only that,” he continues, “but the previous buyer left a donation to help fund renovations. You can expand the center. Improve it.”

Your heart stops. You didn’t need to ask who.

You already know.

It’s New Year’s Eve. You don’t know why today of all days you finally get a grip on your emotions. You figure today is just as good as any other to do something crazy.

You clutch your phone in your hand, Yoongi’s name glaring up at you in your call history, unanswered. You don’t know what you’ll say when you find him, or if he’ll even want to see you, but you have to see him. You have to know why he did this—why he left, why he pulled out of the deal, why he did it all without saying a word.

The hours stretch long and thin, and by the time the bus pulls into the station in Seoul, the city is already blanketed in a soft layer of snow.

The snow falls softly around you as you stand in front of Yoongi’s apartment building (his eomma was more than willing to text the address), your breath clouding in the air. When he opens the door, his eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t say anything—he just steps aside, letting you in.

“I heard what you did,” you say quietly, your voice trembling. “The center’s safe. You even donated to help renovate it.”

Yoongi exhales, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

He looks at you, his dark eyes soft but unsteady, bags underneath it from many a sleepless night. “Because it was the right thing to do. And because I owed it to you—to the town—to make up for leaving the way I did.”

You shake your head, your chest tightening. “You didn’t owe me anything, Yoongi. You could’ve just told me.”

“I know,” he says softly, his voice tinged with regret. “But I didn’t know how to. And I was scared. Scared that if I told you, I’d ruin the one good thing I’ve had in years.”

“Yoongi…”

“I stayed quiet because I thought I could fix it,” he admits, his voice quieter now. “I knew if I told you the truth, you’d hate me. And I didn’t want that—I couldn’t risk losing you again. So I started looking for another way. I’ve been talking to my company, trying to get them to pull out of the deal, to reallocate the funds to save the center instead.”

You blink, his words sinking in slowly. “You… what?”

“I’ve been trying to undo it,” he says, his dark eyes heavy with something you can’t quite name. “I tried to help in whatever way I could, because you—you deserve to win. You deserve to have that place. I just…” He exhales shakily. “I messed up.”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him, confusion swirling in your chest.

He takes a step closer, his gaze steady now. “I’m sorry. For everything—for leaving, for lying, for not trusting you enough to tell you the truth. I just…” He hesitates, his voice faltering.

“You didn’t have to leave,” you say, your voice trembling. “You didn’t have to run. I know I pushed you away when I found out that you were the buyer. But if you told it to me in the first place, I would’ve understood,” you admit, the words catching in your throat. “I would’ve believed you.”

Yoongi watches you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he takes another step forward, close enough now that you can smell the faint musk of his cologne.

“Would you have asked me to stay?” he murmurs.

You swallow hard, unable to look away. “Yes.”

The word hangs between you, suspended in the air, and something in Yoongi’s gaze softens.

“I’m here now,” he says quietly. “I’m not running. I’m not leaving. I don’t want to.”

He reaches up slowly, hesitantly, and brushes a snowflake from your cheek with the back of his knuckles. The touch is light, fleeting, but it sends warmth spreading through you, curling in your chest and settling deep in your bones.

For a moment, neither of you moves. You just stand there, inches apart. And then Yoongi leans in, closing the distance between you, and kisses you. Your lips slide against his, your hands curling into the front of his sweater as the rest of your worries fall away.

When you finally pull back, breathless and trembling, Yoongi rests his forehead lightly against yours, his hands still cradling your face. Before he can lean in again,

“Come home,” you whisper, the word escaping before you can stop it.

Yoongi looks at you with something so raw, so vulnerable, it takes your breath away. “Okay,” he says softly, his voice deep. “If you want me to, I will.”

You nod, your tears spilling over now. “I really do.”

“Good, because I’m out of a job and I need you to fund my unhealthy caffeine addiction.”

“What?”

“It’s ok, I’ve been thinking about it for years anyway.” He shrugs, the faintest hint of a smirk playing at his lips. “I came to Seoul for music, but somehow I got roped into the capitalism I’ve always hated. Moving back feels… right.”

Later, you find yourselves on his rooftop, bundled together under a fleece blanket as the fireworks light up the Han River below. You share his bougie white truffle parmesan & rosemary popcorn (it’s actually good, though) and a bottle of chardonnay. You lean against his shoulder, link your hands together, hearts full of the promise of a new beginning.

You settle in your seat as the bus begins its journey back to Seollim Hollow. Yoongi had to stay behind for a few days to tie up loose ends, but the promise of his return lingers like a heartbeat in your chest.

As the city fades into the distance, your phone buzzes with a new message.

Yoongi: Check your coat pocket

Intrigued, you reach inside, your fingers brushing against something small and stiff. When you pull it out, your breath catches.

It’s a postcard.

His handwriting is as familiar as ever, the letters neat but tilted just slightly to the left. This time, though, the message is different.

Not a simple Merry Christmas.

Not a quick Hope you’re well.

Not some generic line he thought you might want to hear.

This one has only three words.

I love you.

For a moment, all you can do is stare at the card, the edges soft from where it’s been handled. The words feel heavy, monumental, a promise etched onto paper.

You press the postcard to your chest, your eyes stinging as the bus carries you closer to home. Though, when you think about it, home feels like a person you just left in a high-rise in Hannam.

A week later, you find Yoongi standing on your doorstep, that gummy smile you love lighting up his face. His suitcase sits at his side, snowflakes caught in his hair, and he looks at you like you’re the answer to every question he’s ever asked.

“Hi,” he says softly, his voice warm despite the cold.

“Hi,” you say, leaning against the door frame.

And in that moment, you know—this is it. The chance to start over. The start of something real, something you both waited for, something you’ll build up piece by piece.

And finally, you’ll live a life you’ll both love.

Together.

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed my first Holiday fic ever. If it feels extra cheesy and sappy than my other stories, it’s Hallmark-inspired so it needed to be that way. 🙂 As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments section. A reblog would also be amazing!

Thank you so much for reading this you lovely, beautiful human xo

And I know it’s already been days since we kicked off 2025, but I hope you have had an amazing start to the year and the rest of the days are filled with love, laughs, and Bangtan! 💜✨

Permanent Taglist (Part 1)

@wonh0oe @hyukaluve @glossdebut @kiki-zb @kookiewithluv

@agustblog @maryhopemei @perfectiondazesworld @kimsaerom @kam9404

@00-sleepdontweep-00 @tea4sykes @mggv97 @marnz1990

@whydoeyecare @pastelmin @tarahardcore @minjenna @chimmchimmm

@aaclariww @mar-lo-pap @tinytan-gerine @vesperbells @butterymin

@eve1633455 @baechugff @lilkittenjenjen @wobblewobble822 @coffeedepressionsoup

@futuristicenemychaos @jadestonedaeho7 @granataepfelchen @whoa-jo @annyeongbitch7

@chimmisbae @sexytholland @idkjustlovingbts @kpophosblog @tinyelfperson

@yoongicatagenda @codeinebelle @parapiop7 @diame93 @janeelizabeth1216

@withmuchluv-tannie @abadiimm @angellekookie

The rest to follow in a reblog.

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puppyscatorccio · 2 days ago

Note

Post rescue Shauna, who needs loving and comfort. Poor thing, she's all skittish and jumpy too :(

✨️

mdni. no nsfw, just fluff, but i don't feel comfortable either way.

it had been so long since the yellowjackets crashed that you were certain that they were dead, that they'd never fine the plane wreck and their bodies. but when you get that call and they tell you that shauna wants to see you, you're dropping everything and going to see her.

she's like a completely different person when you see her in that hospital bed. she's pale, her hair falling in clumps, so weak and so tired. you try to be careful when you hug her (doctor's orders), but it's impossible not to. she sobs on your shoulder, holding you tight like she can't believe that you're here, that you're really here to see her.

the doctors insist that she stays for a few days, so you visit her every single day. you stay until the nurses have to tell you that visiting hours are over and even then you try to convince them to let you stay a little longer. it never works, but you try nonetheless.

when she's finally allowed to go home, you go with her mom to pick her up. you're there the whole time, holding her hand and keeping her close. ms. shipman didn't mind that you kept coming over all the time, because shauna seemed to want your company just as much.

that first night you sleep over at hers, she spends most of it just crying in your arms. you don't try to get her to speak of what happened, you just let her sob and cling to you as tightly as she wants to. you're so warm, so sweet, all the things she had missed during those harsh winters and lonely springs.

the most you get out of her is a "jackie's dead, she died, she's gone", "i lost my baby," but not much other than that. it might be better that way; you're scared that your suspicions might be true. you can't imagine how difficult it was, being stranded in the middle of nowhere and losing your best friend and your baby. you wish you could just squeeze all the pain and trauma from shauna and take it to yourself.

by this point, you're pretty much living in her house. whenever you're free from class/work, you're going over there, sleeping over, just spending time with shauna. you always catch her writing something in her diary, but you don't dare ask what it is. you know that she'll probably lash out and tell you that it's none of your business.

it's hard to get her to eat much. you try to take her to her favorite places, to that diner down the street you always went to together, to her favorite restaurant, but nothing seems to work. she'll eat a few bites and claim that she's satisfied. for the first few months, you couldn't even get her to eat any meat.

she's sad, yes, but so angry too. you can see it in her eyes, how that fire threatens to consume her every moment. you've always known that shauna had a bit of a short temper, but now, it was so much worse. you had to walk in eggshells around her on particularly rough days, but it's not like you could blame her.

in a few rare moments, she's soft. it happens once in a blue moon, but you see that anger fade away for a while and she lets herself be vulnerable, even if it only lasts a few minutes. you're there every step of the way, trying your best to help her recover from all this and she couldn't be more thankful, even if she struggles to show it.

#mdni #yellowjackets #shauna shipman #shauna shipman x reader #📟 — ask #🗞️ — freak news #— ✨

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breakyourrxles · 3 days ago

Text

❥between two breaths (m) | 𝟙𝟙

𝐛��𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬

↳ The age-old adage once again proves itself to hold weight: When things seem too good to be true, then they probably are.

kim sunwoo x fem!reader (side lee juyeon x reader) — idol!sunwoo, fan/trainee!reader. forced proximity, forbidden love, friends to lovers, angst, slow burn, idolverse-typical themes regarding; dating, image, public perception, etc. happy ending, plot-heavy!! reader thinks she's nonchalant about it but she rly isn't. smut. [5,7k wc ongoing] cws: heavy themes of wanting-but-can't-having, mild jealousy, explicit sexual content, a little alcohol consumption, dancing on the edge of career suicide, poor decision making because of The Wanting.

❥ masterlist | ao3

She takes in a deep breath and then comes out with it. "Have you seen the posts online?"

The following months are both exponentially better and distressingly worse; that, of course, depends wholly on one's perception of the deeds at hand.

"Hey."

Sunwoo sits at the desk with headphones over his head, but that doesn't last long once the single word is spoken by him. He pulls them down to dangle around his neck instead and turns the chair so that he can face you.

You often meet like this now.

Neither dorm is particularly apt for the kinds of activities that the two of you often find yourselves engaging in now. The dam of self-preservation has been broken and the crashing wave of self-destruction has instead taken its place. Stolen kisses have quickly turned into secret getaways and far, far more. An incredibly dangerous game. You have not yet even come upon your first year debut anniversary.

Yet there are no signs of stopping yet.

The less all of the members know on either side, the better. Sunwoo's dorm had been fielded a couple of times during the first foray into terrifying waters—at least they know more than MVNE members do—but ultimately it had been decided that putting the burden of silence on them is an incredibly unfair one, and thus, here the two of you find yourselves now.

You look up from your phone, pretending not to have noticed him all the while and say, "Yes?"

Everything inside of the company building smells alarmingly sanitized at all times, and you cannot help but assign reason to it regardless of how arbitrary it might be. An allegory for the kinds of lives idols are meant to live; perfect, untouched, unmarred and more than anything else, available to the onlookers who seek to have them.

At the very least, it is safe within these sickeningly white walls. There are no fans to watch, no reporters to pry; and that makes for a treacherous recipe.

Sunwoo is thin now in ways that only slightly concern you, but you know him well enough to know that it is less because of a lack of care for himself and more because of the fact that a comeback schedule is unwaveringly demanding. He now stands only a few days within the aftermath of it—somehow, it is August—and you have such a devastatingly difficult time wondering where all of the time has gone.

He is worn down and even now, there is little sleep to be had. It's late into the evening; he has future appearances to make, ongoing schedules, another drama to film, and flights overseas to catch. When you think of it all for too long, the twisting in your gut comes back full force. Thus, the only option is to do your best not to.

Neither of you have claimed a name to whatever it is that you have allowed yourselves to get wrapped up in.

"You don't have to stay here, it's late," he says. "Don't you have a thing tomorrow with the girls?"

You do, and you are expected to be wide-eyed and bushy-tailed for it in approximately four hours. Time that could be spent sleeping but instead—you are here.

"Not like I'll miss it. They'll drag me out of bed by the hair if they have to and I'll smile wide and do my part just like I always do."

Sunwoo frowns a bit, squints his eyes as if judging you for your decision and says, "Sure, but you don't have to be miserable while doing it."

"You're headed to Japan soon, right? We've barely had time to see each other since June with how busy you've been. No doubt we'll get the message that it's soon our time to begin comeback preparations also, I'd rather lose some sleep than miss out on the limited amount of time we have together now."

That seems to heighten his mood, because he smiles and wastes little time standing from the chair and crossing the small amount of space in the room to meet you at the couch.

"Aww, so you miss me when I'm gone?" he says. "Never thought I'd see the day when you're actually being honest about your feelings towards me! You like me!"

Huffing out a sigh, you roll your eyes and make a useless effort to turn your body away from him. There's little ability to do so, however, and Sunwoo makes a quick motion to cage you in against the plush of the cushions so that you have nowhere to escape to without a fight.

Towering over your body lengthwise, Sunwoo stares down at you with a wicked, knowing grin and long, black hair dangling down around his face. He isn't particularly strong, and you probably could stand a chance if you truly wished to take a stand. The thought crosses your mind for a moment, but instead of that, you swiftly lose the will to do any such thing and for precisely the same reasons as only just discussed.

Soon, this will be largely a thing of the past and for an indefinite amount of time. Will things pick up precisely where they had left off once time finally allows for some sort of reunification, or will the both of you come to realize that this has all been little more than a whirlwind curiosity that has now effectively been satiated?

"I like you fine," you mumble in reply.

"It would be better if you could come with me," Sunwoo says, craning himself down and his face falling closer towards yours. "If you could sneak away and meet me abroad. We could go to all of these restaurants I know, and it wouldn't be as bad as being here is with the fans. We could actually have something remotely resembling a normal life… A normal…" He pauses, body going somewhat rigid above you as a thought crosses his mind but eventually he simply lands on, "This."

The thought had never really crossed your mind before this very moment, and without more than a single consideration of it you say, "You wish I hadn't become an idol."

"I told you to audition."

"Sure, but if I hadn't debuted then we wouldn't be shackled into this the way that we are."

Sunwoo cocks his head a little and gives a half-hearted smile. "Yeah, that's true of all of this. This never would have happened if you hadn't debuted, either. I don't—"

"I know, you don't sleep with fans."

"Well!" he interjects suddenly, loudly. "Technically speaking, I don't sleep with you, either! But yes, I definitely don't do any of this with fans."

"You still resent it, though." Reaching up, you grab ahold of Sunwoo's chin and force him to look straight at you after his attention has slightly wandered. "If you could have this without the idol thing, you would."

"Obviously, I think they just call that a normal relationship."

"Do you regret it, then?" you ask, and it's a question that falls from your mouth faster than you can really recognize the potential implications of. By the time it is placed on the table, it's too late for you to reconsider whether or not you're truly ready to hear the answer to it.

The silence that hangs between it and the impending response is suffocating, and Sunwoo is far from quick to give you your reprieve.

"No, I don't regret it." Turning his head slightly, he presses his lips to the palm of your hand that still grips his face and says, "You're amazing, and it would be a crime for people not to see it. Am I a little jealous and selfish and are there parts of me that want nothing more than to hide you away from everyone and keep you for myself? Sure, but there was never going to be a path where I got everything I wanted. There was never an option that wasn't complicated. Being involved with someone is complicated in the best of circumstances, and we're far from that, so…"

Trailing off, Sunwoo pauses to gather his thoughts into something coherent so that he can move forward again and eventually he says, "If it wasn't you, it was going to be someone else. There's no easy."

You smile, force yourself up just enough to plant a quick kiss to his lips and say, "You're lucky I'm not jealous like you are."

Affronted by the incredibly true accusation, Sunwoo reels away from you and grimaces at the words.

"You meet with Juyeon for private little coffee dates, like, all the time! Frequently! Who knows what else you two get up to when I'm not around!"

"You think we're banging at the coffee shop across the street…?"

"No! I don't know, maybe! Not like I'd ever know!"

Trying not to laugh, your lips thin into some sort of bizarre half-smile and you say, "Juyeon is your friend, don't you think he'd tell you if things were… you know, headed in that direction?"

"Juyeon doesn't know anything about us, so no, he wouldn't, because he wouldn't feel as though he has any reason to need to. And by the way, this is not information you should use to your advantage!"

"This would be an incredible moment to point out that you are frequently abroad, and I could just as easily think myself sick about who or what you might be doing out there," you reason.

"Not the same," Sunwoo insists, "Because I'm jealous and a little obsessive and so that doesn't track at all. Do you not read romance manga, or something?" He rolls his eyes, huffs out a sigh and then leans himself back down so that his lips sit only inches from your own. "Hopelessly devoted despite having little to no reason for being so. The ideal male lead, everyone knows that!"

When the kiss finds you, it's just as devoted as his prior words entail. Sunwoo always kisses you with the kind of intent behind the action that might lead one to think that it might be the last time, and though the impression is incredibly lasting, you cannot help but feel the lingering ache of wonder that is left behind after the fact.

Will it be the last time?

However, beyond the kiss lies further intent, and you fall into the motions far more easily now that the months have passed you by. Sunwoo slinks his body down further against yours, gently slots his hips between legs that part away without so much as a second thought, and you melt into the feeling of being together like so many times before.

There's a sort of hunger urging him forward, and you find yourself matching it with nipping teeth and wandering hands that hope to soon meet flesh hidden beneath. A warm palm slides up underneath the ample looseness of your shirt to rest just above your waist, and though it does not make a move for anything more, you cannot help but find yourself wishing that it would.

Instead, Sunwoo lightly rolls his hips against you and both of your mouths part to revel in each other's wanting gasps.

Once reasonable kisses become fervent, and after a testing motion, Sunwoo falls into a delicate rhythm against you. Resolve is quickly falling away; fingertips find skin and nails dig muted indents beneath them, the room is warm and the hopeful intoxication of desire is all too dizzying for you to make an effort to keep up with.

But not here.

"Sunwoo—"

"I know." The words are airy and desperate against your mouth, but he doesn't stop and instead his warm, bitten lips drag over to your ear. "Can you come like this?"

God, probably, you think. Embarrassing. Swallowing that down, you shift your position slightly—just right—and the next movement against you has your eyes screwing shut with increased probability. "Think so. Can you?"

"I hope not."

There's always an excuse, always a reason that it is never quite right to finally pull the trigger on one of the final-most decisions in all of this. To you, it stands firm as the last remaining wall that separates the two of you from a conversation that you're not quite sure either of you are ready to fully meet head-on: What is this? What are we doing? What are we?

That—as well as what this could easily be—feels as though it could change everything.

The hand once beneath your shirt drags down to grip firmly at your hip to hold your body in place, and the feeling of his fingertips digging into your skin is sinfully electric. Sunwoo pants lightly against your ear, every so often a soft moan slipping through and you want so badly to experience it in full: without the hang-ups of the future or the worries of what might be waiting on the other side of it.

Maybe you can handle it. Maybe he can, too.

Clutching at his waist, your nails dig in as your release shakes you, and the hedonistic groan that escapes from him through it is enough to have you reconsider all of your prior convictions.

Sunwoo slows to a halt, face coming back around to kiss you once again and says, "Don't miss me too much while I'm gone."

MVNE is busy, and oftentimes, being busy is indicative of success.

This is something you are thankful for, as you are no stranger to the ease of falling away to obscurity as a new idol group as so many others before you have. The days are long and the nights are short even when you are not amidst overwhelming comeback schedules; the girls are tired, perception is good, and more important than anything else you have learned, is that the company is happy.

With only two groups on their roster, having both reaching relative success is more than any shareholder could possibly ask for. The Boyz and MVNE are both lauded in their respective fields and often considered to be tightly wound together in a sort of way that isn't often seen between girl groups and boy groups. Chances have been taken by the company to create this, and while not all of the notions have ended up paying off, in the end, the net outcome has been a positive one.

It is a rarity nowadays that yours and Sunwoo's names are brought up as a unit.

Granted, you don't spend much of your time perusing the online portals for opinions that you may or may not wish to see. Occasionally, Woori or Nara might bring up something that they had seen, but for the most part you do not concern yourself with public opinion. Figure, if something were to come up that you need to be made aware of, you will be.

Two weeks have gone by since you've last seen Sunwoo.

Exchanged messages are few and far between, and you try to make peace with it by telling yourself that you expected this. It's not a lie, but as it would turn out no amount of mental preparation could get you to a point where the lack of content felt like it was anything other than a heavy rock sitting deep inside of your gut.

You are, however, too busy to pay it much mind.

This green room is tiny and barely wide enough to hold the ten of you, but you can't do anything about that except grin and bear it. Woori is less interested in putting on a pretty face in regards to the fact, and mild complaints are occasionally brought about to managers and staff should they have the misfortune of passing by and catching her unrelenting eye.

The couch is meant to seat two comfortably. As of now, it seats five.

You, Miyoung, Nara, Kaia and Serri rest piled on arm rests and squished atop cushions. Phones are out and not many words are exchanged as the lot of you wait to be called to go on. It's a small festival performance for a college and won't require much of your time. For that, you are thankful.

Navigating to your messages one more time, you check for a new one despite knowing that no such thing has come in.

After much deliberation and a little bit of fight put up by the managers, eventually they relent and succumb to allowing for a dinner outing in the evening.

Drinks are flowing and copious amounts of food is placed upon the long table for everyone to enjoy. The girls are smiling and laughing loudly amongst each other, and after a little bit of soju, you're feeling the jovial atmosphere in all that it has to offer you. Things have been a little complicated since debut—far from a squeaky clean journey—but at times like this you are reminded of precisely why you chose this path for yourself, and like so many times before you can't help but think that there isn't a better group of people that you could be going on this journey with.

With a vaguely foggy mind and the alcohol consumed coursing through your blood, you lean over and shove your shoulder against Woori's with a big grin plastered across your face.

"You're a great leader, you know that?" you say.

She glances down at you and gently pats your head. "And you are a little drunk. Thanks though, some of you do not make it easy."

"You should be nice to me," you reason, slightly slurring your words. "I'm quite popular, and a good dancer! People like me, you know!"

"I know, and if it weren't for that I'd already have had you locked inside of a studio and the key mysteriously lost to the ether."

You gasp, pulling away from her and exaggeratedly irate. "You wouldn't!"

Woori squints at you, leaning in close and shoving a displeased finger towards your face. She says, "I wouldn't, but only because you've been on your best behavior as of late."

Suppose that depends on what best behavior entails. Indeed, no problems are being caused for the members of the group due to your negligence, but on a similar vein, the man you are meant to no longer be seeing has since made you come on many more than one occasion. Oops.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt."

Snapping your attention to your other side, you are met by Hyemi who is standing with phone in her hand. She looks nervous, a little awkward in ways that aren't necessarily unlike her even in the best of times, but for some reason the appearance of her feels incredibly sobering this time. A kind of nervousness begins to quickly bubble up beneath your skin, but you make an effort to fight it off with the immediate presence of a pleasant and inviting smile.

Hyemi continues on and says, "Can I talk to you for a second? Maybe outside?"

"Yeah, sure!" Whatever this is about, you're perfectly happy to acquiesce to the wish. Chances are, this is not a conversation that you want to have amongst company, so you rise from your chair and shuffle away from the table towards the door with your eyes glued to the device still clutched within your teammates hand.

This late into the nighttime hours, the weather has cooled a bit and the stifling warmth of summer isn't so overbearing. People are everywhere on this busy Seoul street, and while that presents a whole separate set of problems that you don't necessarily have much of an answer for, you instead hone your attention on the thing that you do have engagement in.

With her phone held to her chest, Hyemi looks at you with an odd air of condolence. It is evident in the way that she is carrying herself that she is searching for the right words to continue on with her mission, and the longer it takes, the more your stomach turns from the anxiety of wondering.

"What is it?" you finally urge.

She takes in a deep breath and then comes out with it. "Have you seen the posts online?"

Your eyebrows knit together. "No, what posts?"

"I don't know if you even care, or if it's something I should be bothering you with at all. I just saw them and thought maybe it's something you would want to know about…"

"Well, what is it?"

"About Sunwoo."

Hyemi hands you her phone, and pulled up on the screen are more than one post made speculating the one thing that you cannot bear to deal with right now. There aren't many of them, but enough that your heart begins racing as you scroll through them. One is bad enough, and more than one is nothing short of a disaster in the making.

People are speculating that he may be in a relationship with someone now.

You take the time to click into each and every one. Read through the contents and then glance over the comments all corroborating the same line of thinking. That he's acting different; minute changes in the way he has been carrying himself in public or with the things he has been wearing out. Most likely all made by fans of him and the group who are watching everything he does with a microscope in hopes of catching something just like this.

People who have seen him more than even you have over the past few months.

This is a blindspot that you'd not considered nearly enough, obviously. Sunwoo wears his feelings on his sleeve and it's not surprising that his demeanor has changed once that shift came to fruition. The irony in all of this, you suppose, is that the two of you are not dating; there is no relationship, only brief bouts of fooling around in the limited time offered for the two of you to do so.

That fact is a little bit more humiliating to you. The trickle of catastrophe is already slipping through the cracks, and all you have to show for it is a few awkward conversations and juvenile secret meetings.

Well, you certainly have sobered up now.

"Is it true?" Hyemi asks.

"What? No!" You shake your head, recorrecting. "I mean, I don't know. I don't think so. He hasn't said anything to me about there being… someone."

"When my idol started dating someone, I knew it," Hyemi says, laughing lightly under her breath. "I guess when you follow someone enough, you can spot the small differences in everything. Nothing was ever confirmed, it was never made public, but I'm pretty sure I knew."

"You believe them."

She shrugs. "They can always be wrong, no matter what, they're always going to be on the outside looking in, but it's clear that they've picked up on something."

"He has been super busy lately, if I had to guess, he's just exhausted and having a hard time keeping up with the charade."

All of those words linger in your mind, even after handing the phone back to Hyemi. They repeat like a reel over and over again as if you are combing through the details in an effort to find your own demise. Looking for the silver bullet, searching for one piece of evidence that puts you at the scene of the crime.

No one is ever named, and no speculation about the person on the other end of his transformation is made.

"Yeah," Hyemi agrees. "Well, I suppose you would know better than anyone."

Once the two of you make your way back inside, you slip your phone out from your coat pocket without anyone noticing and hurry off to the bathroom with shaking hands and a short message sent off.

You [22:12]: we need to talk. soon.

This cannot happen.

The following morning you awaken to the sound of your phone vibrating on the nightstand. A message has come through, and in your sleepy haze it takes you a moment to recollect the happenings of the prior evening so conclude why it is that you are receiving it.

Quickly, you turn and grasp it, but the name awaiting you in your notifications is not the one that you're expecting. In fact, you don't have a message from Sunwoo, at all.

It's your manager, and you are being requested to meet with him as soon as possible.

Typically, he might come by for simple discussions that do not require the delicate hand of privacy to obscure them, but clearly, that is not the case this time.

You close your eyes and go over the day's schedule in your mind, piecing together all of the things that are expected of you. Today is light and less demanding than some of the others—perfect timing, you figure—because you're not entirely sure what it is that's awaiting you on the other end of this.

Though, you do have your suspicions.

The memory of your conversation with Hyemi still weighs heavily on your mind, and how could it not? All of those posts, all of the detailed reasoning for people's suspicions in regards to Sunwoo's private life are still ever-present as if only just having read them. How convinced they sounded, how sure they had seemed of their detective work.

And how right they were.

This is yet another conversation that you are going to have to have with him, but with Sunwoo damn near off the grid and unwilling to accommodate your needs, you don't exactly have a plan worth moving forward with.

He is due to be home in a week's time, and so you wonder, can this wait that long?

You sigh, roll yourself out from beneath your bedding and text back to your manager that you'll be there in an hour.

The two of you often meet in the same conference room for things such as this, and today serves to be no different.

Normally, meetings like this are about up and coming work. Folders with paper shoved inside sprawled across the table and his laptop sitting open with fingers tirelessly at work as he jots down notes and inputs schedule information into templates. The coffee often goes cold before he ever has a chance to finish it, and sometimes you wonder which one of the two of you really has the more tiresome career choice.

At least you don't have to work with Excel.

Once the door is closed behind you, he finally speaks up. "Sit down," he says, and there's a particular and unfamiliar firmness to his voice that you do not often hear. It causes a sense of danger within you, and before you know it, you're attempting to run an inventory of all of the possible transgressions you have committed that could have caused this to happen.

Unfortunately, there are far too many to really keep count of.

You sit yourself gently into the chair as if hoping not to disturb the delicate balance that surrounds you. Hands tucked into your lap, you look towards him with the wish that nothing on your face gives away the guilt that follows you.

He tugs his glasses off his face—you've seen this gesture before when he is exhausted with you—and runs his palms flat over the skin with a groan.

"This is how this meeting is going to go," he states. "I am going to ask you questions knowing full well that I am not going to receive the truth in response, and we're both going to make peace with that. Neither of us want to be here, and if I'm being perfectly honest, I couldn't care less about any of this beyond the fact that it makes my job much, much harder and the emails from up top far more frequent. I don't want emails, I don't want to hear about posts on the internet on gossip websites, do you understand? I truly do not care, but I also understand that it's my job to care. It's my job to care for the minimum amount, so that's what I'm doing."

A moment of silence passes between the two of you, and though you are fairly certain he is not expecting a reply from you just yet, you couldn't possibly have anything to say through the dryness of your throat, anyway. Your head is spinning; all of the posts, the comments, and now this. It feels so suffocating, so insurmountable, and worst of all—Sunwoo is nowhere to be found.

You feel like you're drowning in an empty room.

"I'm doing my job," he continues on, turning his laptop around to face you. To tell the truth, you don't have to look at it to know what's awaiting you, but for the sake of the charade, you force your eyes down to view the screen; full of things that you have already been made well aware of. "So I'm going to ask you: Do you know anything about this?"

Your body trembles in your seat as you continue to stare at the words that have already dug in and tormented you, but somehow you gather the courage to look back up at him, part your dry lips and say, "No."

His features cannot hide the disbelief that sits atop his shoulders, but all he says in response is a simple, "You don't know anything about this?"

"No," you reiterate, and the boiling irritation of being asked once more reignites the drive inside of you to fight back. Logically, you know it will not serve you to do so; that you are best suited to bow your head, keep quiet, and maintain what is left of a lowkey existence.

And yet, you cannot do so.

"Can I ask why I'm being asked about this when this is clearly a situation involving the other team?"

"You know perfectly well why that is."

"From what I have read, there were no names and no hints of the identity of the other party that may or may not be involved," you say. "Are there not other women? Are there not other women that he has been around in the past however many months? Yet I am the one sitting here."

"When you entered this program, and when you signed that contract, you knew what to expect," he says, strong in his delivery of the fact. "You knew that this would follow you forever, and even in the best case scenario where people accepted it and ultimately moved on from it, there would never be a world where it would completely disappear. You are incredibly lucky to be graced by the public's favor thus far, and that is why we're sitting here today; to ensure that that continues to be the case."

With no response sitting on the tip of your tongue, your manager sits back against his chair and slumps down slightly, as if a margin of strength has swiftly dissipated from his form. "It doesn't have to be this difficult," he says. "The company sees things like this and they have to get ahead of it, and frankly speaking as someone who has been in this line of work for a long, long time: where there's smoke, there's usually fire."

"That doesn't mean I'm the match."

"It doesn't, but you're in close enough proximity to the flame that people are gonna be asking you questions about it. Look, I already told you I didn't walk into this meeting today expecting to hear an admission of guilt, and quite frankly, I don't care, what I'm here to tell you is…"

The words trail off into nothing but a huff of frustration, and you recognize his posture for exactly what it is: The distress of a man who is stuck firmly between a rock and a hard place. Decades of experience in dealing with situations just like this one and more times than not being lied to as the outcome. He knows what to expect from you, and is not at all surprised to be receiving it. This meeting and these questions are simply a job that must be done, but if his intentions are not to force the truth out of you so that the company can begin their acts of damage control, then…

Closing his eyes slowly as if quietly searching for the peace that has left him, he lets out a barely there sigh and says under his breath, "Tighten up." Your breath catches in your throat at the words, so softly uttered that you can't be sure you've even heard them. "Both of you. He's going to have to hear the same thing you are, but probably delivered far more differently. I don't care how, or why, or when; but we can't have any more of this, because if the suits up top start getting uncomfortable with the amount of whispers going around, then they're going to do whatever they need to for it to stop."

The swallow you take is so dry and hard that it sounds deafeningly loud in your own ears.

"What… What does that mean?"

"I can only be on your side so much," he says, a lazy chuckle coming through. "I've already said too much, so you should just listen to me and not ask so many questions. Anyway, MVNE is much too successful for it to really be a contract termination, if that's what you're worried about." A hand comes up to close the laptop, but his gaze remains firmly on you. "A blessing and a curse, depending. Try not to find out which one it is."

You watch him stand, shove the computer into his bag and then make his way around the table towards the door.

However, you remain too stricken by fear to attempt to do the same.

His hand sits on the doorknob for a moment, but he does not immediately turn it. You hear another disgruntled sigh fall from his lips. He says, "It's a bit early to be telling you this, but since I have you: MVNE are slated for a late October comeback. The announcement and meeting will go out to the members next week, and then preparations will begin. If you can just get through the first year without a major scandal, it'll be the best for everyone involved. Other people have the luxury of tenure on their side, and that comes with time. Not to mention…"

"He's a man," you say conclusively.

With your back still turned to him, you hear the clicking sound of the doorknob turning, the door opening, and the despondent reply that punctuates it all.

"Yes, that too."

#sunwoo smut #tbz smut #the boyz smut #sunwoo x reader #sunwoo imagines #sunwoo scenarios #tbz x reader #tbz imagines #tbz scenarios #the boyz x reader #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #kpop fanfic #kpop smut

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c0rrupt3dfr3ak · 2 days ago

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Why I'd recommend avoiding r/DID and r/OSDD

I have made a few posts on here already venting about my experience but I figured I'd make a bigger post discussing what happened and why I feel like the subreddits are no longer safe especially for polyfragmented and otherwise atypical systems.

We used to have pretty good function, we knew who was fronting and we had good communication since we felt safe and supported as well as getting therapy. Ever since we began looking at what other systems experience and comparing ourselves to them it has gotten a lot worse, we are now typically blurry and confused and we have a lot of alters who say "We're probably faking and I'm the only real one."

This is made worse by the subreddits, if you talk about anything that the person responding to you doesn't experience themselves they will fakeclaim you. You have a lot of fictives? Fake. You split from minor stress? Fake. You have an inner world? Fake. You have pseudo-memories? Fake.

It genuinely made our mental health worse to the point we are typically masking and our system has become more covert including to those inside it. While we are working on finding a new therapist who deals with DID since our old specialist moved it takes a while to hear back.

This disorder already sucks to have, you only form a system from childhood trauma and CPTSD so it's horrible that the communities that were once so supportive and loving are now simply people thinking "I am the only REAL system, the rest of these guys are faking!"

#system vent #system #did #did system #did osdd #did community #dissociative identity disorder #osddid #osdd #osdd system #cdd #cdd community #polyfrag #systempunk

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scariusaquarius · 3 days ago

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rehab. 6.

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Winter Soldier! Fem! Reader

Summary: While on a mission to find any more possible super soldiers that were a part of the Winter Soldier program, Steve and Bucky make a discovery in an abandoned HYDRA base that was cleared out a few years prior to their mission. They discover the Reader, a long-forgotten soldier that was still asleep within a functioning cryostasis pod; still awaiting orders. While Bucky isn't happy about it, he is put up to the challenge of helping to rehabilitate the soldier in Wakanda where she may be able to become a person again.

A/n: Probably from now on, there is going to be some graphic and dark content ahead. Please read carefully and curate your online experience. BTW, you can read it here on my archive account as well!

This is an au where Bucky joined the avengers but still rehabilitated in Wakanda (sometime before Infinity War [canon divergent cause NOPE]). I am NOT fluent in Russian, so I did use google translate cause I couldn't find a good translator that I trusted. If anything is wrong, PLEASE let me know!! Also, I tried to list as many warnings as possible so you know what the story will contain as chapters are posted. Stay safe!

Genre: Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers/Friends to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Drama, Dark Content Rated: Explicit Warning: Angst, Dark Content: Graphic Depictions of Sexual Assault, Blood and Gore, Mentions of Manipulation, Kidnapping, Canon-Typical Violence, Body Horror, Nonconsensual Body Modification/Scarring, Emotional and Physical Abuse, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts/Ideation, Graphic Depictions of Human Remains, Mentions of Sexual Coercion/Manipulation, Death, Misuse of Drugs/Forced Drugging, Self-Harm (Graphic Depictions and Mentions), Nightmares

Author: ScariusAquarius

rehab masterlist. chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5

The soldier was aware that she could not move. Their sense of smell came back first, the smell of flowers and fresh air and food making it easier to grasp onto consciousness. Then, the soldier's hearing came back , the uncomfortable feeling of frost melting and draining from her ears and nose making her thawing muscles shiver.

The sensation of feeling came next: the cryostasis pod bed pads sticking to her skin uncomfortably. Then, heat began to crawl over her like a blanket, and the soldier's eyes slowly opened.

Her vision was blurry, struggling to focus, and she was aware of the woman that had sedated her before being put into cryostasis was speaking to the Fist of HYDRA.

"I was able to finally break through the firewalls in a way that wouldn't trip up HYDRA's algorithm to throw up another block. I don't know how long it will last before the system resets itself, but hopefully...our soldier is not just a soldier anymore."

Confusion swept through the soldier, a feeling of being exposed running through her, and the Fist of HYDRA's voice broke through the brain fog, asking the woman.

"Should we have Okoye present just in case?"

"I am confident that we do not need anybody else present. It runs the risk of causing the soldier emotion duress, which could ruin what we are doing."

The lights around the soldier dimmed as her vision focused suddenly, and she could feel nausea gripping at her stomach. Trying to move made it worse, and the soldier couldn't keep herself from retching and dry heaving as she bent over, falling to the floor.

Hands came to rest upon her shoulder gently, but the soldier flinched, tears pricking her eyes as her stomach constricted painfully once more.

She smacked her hand out, blindly attacking as she retched again, and the uncomfortable feeling of bile rising from her throat made her cough and spat it out onto the ground. The woman cursed in a language the soldier did not understand, and the Fist of HYDRA hummed.

"I'll clean it up. Vertigo and nausea is common, and I doubt she's eaten at all before she went under when we found her."

Her mouth was salivating at the scent of the food across the room, but she kept her mouth closed. She was not permitted to eat unless she was given permission.

Her head was in shambles; flashes of images and people and faces and unpleasant thoughts coming at her so quickly that she could not understand what was happening. The soldier felt afraid for a moment before her programming kicked in, and her physical body became emotionless.

It was almost like a switch; a defense mechanism of her programming that forced her to obey during these moments of resilience and cognitive independence, and though nobody was attacking her for being incompetent or shoving her face down into her own vomit like a dog, the soldier still felt the need to be punished.

Even though it felt wrong.

The thought confused her as she shakily kept herself propped up on her hands and knees, and when the Fist of HYDRA stepped before her, his boots within her vision and making her strength waver, the soldier bowed her head and smacked her face into the vomit below her.

The Fist of HYDRA did not make a sound, and the soldier did not dare to breathe as the vile stench invaded her nostrils and burned her eyes. The female scientist was perturbed, asking the Fist.

"What on earth is she doing?"

It took the Fist a moment to respond, and his tone of voice was angry, making the soldier press down into the disgusting mess on the floor further as she began to believe she had made him angry.

"Punishing herself. They didn't take it kindly when we would show weakness, even after thawing from cryostasis...they probably got harsher with their punishments after I left."

Left? The Fist of HYDRA left? How could he have left?

There is no escape. HYDRA is your home. You were born here, you will live here, and you will die here. Do you understand, soldat?

"Вставать."

Shakily, the soldier attempted to stand up, her legs uneasy as she did so, and she swallowed thickly; jaw clenching as she stared down at the ground before her, and she flinched when the Fist brought his hand up to her face.

He paused for a moment, and the soldier began to spiral mentally. She was a failure. She was weak. Vile; disgusting; an abomination.

Flaws detected. Reprogramming required.

"Я собираюсь очистить твое лицо. Не шевелись."

Her body immediately stiffened, and a warm damp cloth touched her cheek. The Fist of HYDRA was gentle with his movements, pressing down firmly to properly clean her face of the vomit. His blue eyes were on her, stern and cautious, but the soldier did not look into his eyes.

She was already in trouble for being weak. Why make it harder for herself? When the Fist was done, he gestured to her with a tilt of his head to follow him to a desk where a plate of food was waiting.

"Иди сюда и поешь."

She was hesitant. Was it a trap? A trick question? The Fist hadn't given her permission to do so. The man was quiet before he sighed and pointed to the chair, his voice becoming stern.

"садиться."

She walked to the chair and sat down, the food in front of her making her mouth salivate while her stomach churned again, and the Fist of HYDRA gestured to the food once more.

The soldier bit her tongue, staring down at the steaming meat and vegetables doused in a delicious-smelling brown sauce, and she felt her stomach constrict.

A good soldier does not require food to function. You will do what it takes to complete your mission, and that is all.

She was not allowed to eat this food, so why was the Fist of HYDRA trying to make her?

"Есть."

Was is laced with drugs like it had been last time? The soldier squinted in confusion at her peculiar thought, and glanced up at the Fist with an apprehensive look. The soldier watched as the Fist of HYDRA sighed and dipped his finger into the sauce and slipped it into his mouth.

"Есть безопасно, солдат."

She could not tear her eyes away from the Fist of HYDRA, however.

Not when the ghastly face of her Handler was peeking over his shoulder at her.

Her body froze, panic and fear running through her, and she shot up from the table as the lights around her went out. What was happening? What was going on? Was this another training sequence?

The smell of food was replaced with the smell of rotting flesh, lights shining throughout the dark void on piles of rotting bodies. There were torn torso's, amputated limbs, crushed skulls and heads, and there were cockroaches and bugs crawling throughout the piles; disappearing beneath entrails and ripped flesh and fat as the mountains of dead bodies became bigger.

Disembodied voices were shouting around her, screaming and sobbing and crying for help, and the soldier was shocked to find that it was her that was screaming.

She was malfunctioning. There was a flaw in her system. Something was wrong. Why was she seeing this? The soldier clutched her head as pain began to bloom within it; pressure building and building and becoming so unbearable that she could not even scream anymore.

There were bugs crawling all over her; centipedes and roaches and other vermin climbing over her body and up into her nose and mouth and ears, and she could see herself in a mirror as her body began to undulate and burst from the sheer volume of vermin going into her mouth.

The soldier gasped suddenly, breaking through her bindings that kept her strapped to the table and jumping up. There were countless spears pointing at her, and the soldier, just as she had done in her nightmare, fell to the floor and retched.

She was puking over-and-over, bile and blood mixing into a wretched mess on the floor, and she became afraid when the Fist of HYDRA slowly walked to her. She scrambled back, smacking her skull into the wall, and she was hyperventilating. Why couldn't she calm down?

Flaws detected. Reprogramming required.

Her chest was tight, oxygen hard to breathe in, and she was aware that her face was wet with vomit and water. There were voices all around her, reverbing within her head, and the soldier retched painfully again.

"What is happening?"

The soldier recognized the voice to be coming from the man that looked a lot like the female scientist, his eyes concerned as he slowly relaxed out of the fighting stance he had taken. The Fist of HYDRA explained gently as he knelt on the floor in front of the soldier.

"Shuri said she was beginning to hallucinate due to the stress she was experiencing...possibly a psychotic break. We tried to get her to eat, but she wouldn't do so. She just...kind of freaked out."

Shuri hummed, explaining further.

"I believe what she was experiencing was a very severe hallucination induced by her PTSD. Given the amount of stress that she presented when we offered her food, it is very possible that one of the methods of torture was with hunger."

The soldier was listening yet ignoring the woman all at the same time. Slowly, her breathing was starting to calm, but she wasn't sure if she should open her eyes. Would she see her Handler again? Would he be upset that she was displaying such vile weakness?

За каждую твою ошибку сломаются две кости.

Her stomach was constricting again, and the vile stench of her vomit was invading her nostrils. The soldier curled up into the wall more when the Fist of HYDRA came closer, and his voice was calm.

"Я не собираюсь причинять тебе боль. Меня зовут James."

The soldier trembled slightly before she flicked her gaze over to the Fist of HYDRA. There was a feeling of confusion and intrigue that had her brow furrowing, and she was tempted to speak despite not being given permission.

"Нет."

Her voice was hoarse, and the Fist was surprised slightly as she responded before his face hardened the more she spoke.

"Ты Кулак ГИДРЫ. Ты моя миссия."

She swiped her fist at him, but the Fist of HYDRA anticipated it, catching her fist and keeping a painful grip on it. The plates within his metal arm shifted and slid together in tight recession, and his brow was furrowed harshly.

The soldier did not anticipate how weak her body had become, her hand immediately giving, and she became light-headed as the Fist of HYDRA immediately commanded.

"Не борись со мной. Я не хочу причинять тебе боль."

But that was what they all said. The memories of her previous Handler, the Enforcers, the Scientists...they always said they wouldn't hurt her to make her trust them; to make her compliant. They were like lions, circling around her and waiting until her lame leg would hold her back, and then they would pounce.

Tearing their teeth into her skin, ripping her body apart, gulping her entrails and blood until she was hollow. The soldier squeezed her eyes shut, and for a moment, there was silence. Suddenly, the female scientist said as she stepped forward.

"You do not have to have permission to speak. You are no longer with HYDRA, but here with us in Wakanda. We are not your Handlers...we are your friends. We do not wish to engage in combat or to hurt you like those vile people have."

The Fist of HYDRA glanced back at the woman before looking back at the soldier, and the woman was unsure. She could feel the need to obey, the orders within her mind repeating over and over, and her body was feeling sluggish; attempting to comply.

The Fist of HYDRA was still holding her fist within his hand, and she stared at their connected hands. The Fist carefully placed his other hand over her wrist, his flesh feeling warm against her chilled skin, and the soldier widened her eyes.

"Что для вас значит Мельцер Вудс?"

Meltzer Woods. The soldier squinted slightly, the memories of the dream she had coming to her mind, and she tensed when the female scientist began to slowly approach her. The woman standing beside her hissed, attempting to stop her as the scientist approached.

"Shuri, what are you doing?!"

The woman, Shuri, knelt down beside the Fist, her eyes kind as she asked softly.

"Will you allow me to help you, Soldat?"

The soldier's eyes fluttered slightly, the need to follow orders enticing her compliance, and Shuri grabbed a cloth from a bowl of water and wrung it out before beginning to gently clean the vomit and bile that was coating her bottom jaw and dripping down her neck. The Fist still kept a firm hold of her, but the soldier noticed that he was not as aggressive as he had been before.

The soldier did not understand kindness.

As the woman gently cleaned her off, the soldier was becoming more uncomfortable. The only time that she was cleaned in such a way was when the scientists were doing tests; poking and prodding at her in ways that the soldier knew made her uncomfortable.

"See? That was not so hard. Please allow us to help you, Soldat."

The soldier couldn't help the irritation that stemmed from her anxiety, could not keep herself from lashing out as she hissed, baring her teeth.

"Миссия должна быть завершена. Неудача – это не вариант. Непослушание недопустимо."

You must only complete the mission. Failure will not be tolerated, and if you disobey, there will be dire consequences.

Shuri then hummed and asked, making the Fist shoot his gaze to her with wide eyes.

"Then allow me to help you complete your mission."

"Shuri, what the hell are you doing?"

The Fist's voice was uncertain, accusatory as he looked at her with a shocked look within his eyes, and Shuri glanced at him; giving him an exasperated look before looking back to the soldier. The soldier frowned deeply, hissing out.

"Вы лжете."

The woman chuckled, tilting her head slightly.

"Then I guess you just have to trust me."

Trust was not a normal feeling the soldier felt. In fact, the soldier couldn't recall a time where trust was ever present. There was no such thing as trust in the soldier's mind, and that's what HYDRA had instilled into her since the beginning.

Trust nobody but HYDRA. HYDRA is your family. We know what is best for you.

But if she could make these people trust her...perhaps, it would be easier to complete her mission. If following their orders allowed her to complete her own...she would use it to her advantage. She would listen. The soldier tugged her hand out of the Fist's grasp before she muttered, staring at nothing as she spoke.

“я готов отвечать."

STORY NOTES: The Soldier is awakened from cryostasis. While the soldier is trying to orient themselves, Shuri tells Bucky that she was able to breakthrough the firewalls and place a block in place to keep HYDRA's algorithm from activating the soldier. Due to the effects of thawing from cryostasis, the soldier becomes sick and begins to vomit on the floor.

The soldier then notices the scent of food and begins to salivate, hunger forcing her stomach to constrict again. The soldier reminds herself that she is not permitted to eat unless given strict permission. Because she has been conditioned to believe that showing weakness (including hunger) warrants punishment, the soldier shoves her face into the vomit despite not being prompted to do so.

Bucky elaborates on that fact when Shuri questions what the soldier is doing, and he carefully cleans the soldier's face off before gesturing for the soldier to eat. However, the soldier is unwilling to do so even when Bucky shows her that the food is completely safe to eat.

Because of the stress and sickness that has plagued the soldier, she begins to hallucinate. Gruesome images of mountains of dead bodies crawling with bugs make the soldier sick again, and she hallucinates further that the bugs are crawling into her mouth.

The next moment the soldier is awake, she is able to break through bindings that keep her onto a table and forces herself into a corner. Again, the soldier becomes sick, this time vomiting straight bile and blood from the stress her body is being put through. T'Challa is concerned and asks what is happening, and both Bucky and Shuri explain that they believe the soldier experienced a hallucination and possibly a psychotic break.

Bucky tries to make contact by introducing himself to the soldier, in which the soldier finally speaks and tells him that his introduction is wrong. She instead tells him that he is her mission, and the soldier attempts to fight him. However, due to the length of time she has gone without eating and from thawing, her body is too weak and Bucky counters easily.

Shuri then steps forward and asks the soldier to allow her to help, cleaning her face of the vomit as Bucky had done before while Bucky keeps the soldier's wrists in his grasp. However, the soldier is unable to comprehend the princess' kindness, and instead tells her that her mission is the only thing that matters and failure is not an option.

In order to make the soldier trust her, Shuri then bluffs by saying that she would help the soldier complete her mission. The soldier does not believe Shuri, and when she comments that Shuri is lying, Shuri jokes by saying the soldier would have to trust her. Taking this as an opportunity to continue her mission, the soldier makes a decision to manipulate the people into thinking that she would accept their help. End scene.

TRANSLATIONS:

Вставать - Get up/stand

Я собираюсь очистить твое лицо. Не шевелись - I'm going to clean your face. Do not move.

Иди сюда и поешь. - Come here and eat.

садиться - sit down

Есть - Eat.

Есть безопасно, солдат - It's safe to eat, soldier.

За каждую твою ошибку сломаются две кости - For every mistake you make, two bones will break.

Я не собираюсь причинять тебе боль. Меня зовут James. - I am not going to hurt you. My name is James.

Нет - No.

Ты Кулак ГИДРЫ - You are the Fist of HYDRA.

Ты моя миссия. - You are my mission.

Не борись со мной. Я не хочу причинять тебе боль - Don't fight me. I don't wish to hurt you.

Что для вас значит Мельцер Вудс? - What does Meltzer Woods mean to you?

Миссия должна быть завершена. Неудача – это не вариант. Непослушание недопустимо. - The mission must be completed. Failure is not an option. Disobedience is unacceptable.

Вы лжете - You are lying.

я готов отвечать - Ready to comply/I'm ready to answer

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