#it is so easy for something to be totally illegible to it because of how its written

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Amazon illegally interferes with an historic UK warehouse election

I'm in to TARTU, ESTONIA! Overcoming the Enshittocene (Monday, May 8, 6PM, Prima Vista Literary Festival keynote, University of Tartu Library, Struwe 1). AI, copyright and creative workers' labor rights (May 10, 8AM: Science Fiction Research Association talk, Institute of Foreign Languages and Cultures building, Lossi 3, lobby). A talk for hackers on seizing the means of computation (May 10, 3PM, University of Tartu Delta Centre, Narva 18, room 1037).

Amazon is very good at everything it does, including being very bad at the things it doesn't want to do. Take signing up for Prime: nothing could be simpler. The company has built a greased slide from Prime-curiosity to Prime-confirmed that is the envy of every UX designer.

But unsubscribing from Prime? That's a fucking nightmare. Somehow the company that can easily figure out how to sign up for a service is totally baffled when it comes to making it just as easy to leave. Now, there's two possibilities here: either Amazon's UX competence is a kind of erratic freak tide that sweeps in at unpredictable intervals and hits these unbelievable high-water marks, or the company just doesn't want to let you leave.

To investigate this question, let's consider a parallel: Black Flag's Roach Motel. This is an icon of American design, a little brown cardboard box that is saturated in irresistibly delicious (to cockroaches, at least) pheromones. These powerful scents make it admirably easy for all the roaches in your home to locate your Roach Motel and enter it.

But the interior of the Roach Motel is also coated in a sticky glue. Once roaches enter the motel, their legs and bodies brush up against this glue and become hopeless mired in it. A roach can't leave – not without tearing off its own legs.

It's possible that Black Flag made a mistake here. Maybe they wanted to make it just as easy for a roach to leave as it is to enter. If that seems improbable to you, well, you're right. We don't even have to speculate, we can just refer to Black Flag's slogan for Roach Motel: "Roaches check in, but they don't check out."

It's intentional, and we know that because they told us so.

Back to Amazon and Prime. Was it some oversight that cause the company make it so marvelously painless to sign up for Prime, but such a titanic pain in the ass to leave? Again, no speculation is required, because Amazon's executives exchanged a mountain of internal memos in which this is identified as a deliberate strategy, by which they deliberately chose to trick people into signing up for Prime and then hid the means of leaving Prime. Prime is a Roach Motel: users check in, but they don't check out:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/03/big-tech-cant-stop-telling-on-itself/

When it benefits Amazon, they are obsessive – "relentless" (Bezos's original for the company) – about user friendliness. They value ease of use so highly that they even patented "one click checkout" – the incredibly obvious idea that a company that stores your shipping address and credit card could let you buy something with a single click:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1-Click#Patent

But when it benefits Amazon to place obstacles in our way, they are even more relentless in inventing new forms of fuckery, spiteful little landmines they strew in our path. Just look at how Amazon deals with unionization efforts in its warehouses.

Amazon's relentless union-busting spans a wide diversity of tactics. On the one hand, they cook up media narratives to smear organizers, invoking racist dog-whistles to discredit workers who want a better deal:

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2020/apr/02/amazon-chris-smalls-smart-articulate-leaked-memo

On the other hand, they collude with federal agencies to make workers afraid that their secret ballots will be visible to their bosses, exposing them to retaliation:

https://www.nbcnews.com/tech/tech-news/amazon-violated-labor-law-alabama-union-election-labor-official-finds-rcna1582

They hold Cultural Revolution-style forced indoctrination meetings where they illegally threaten workers with punishment for voting in favor of their union:

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/01/31/business/economy/amazon-union-staten-island-nlrb.html

And they fire Amazon tech workers who express solidarity with warehouse workers:

https://www.cbsnews.com/news/amazon-fires-tech-employees-workers-criticism-warehouse-climate-policies/

But all this is high-touch, labor-intensive fuckery. Amazon, as we know, loves automation, and so it automates much of its union-busting: for example, it created an employee chat app that refused to deliver any message containing words like "fairness" or "grievance":

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/05/doubleplusrelentless/#quackspeak

Amazon also invents implausible corporate fictions that allow it to terminate entire sections of its workforce for trying to unionize, by maintaining the tormented pretense that these workers, who wear Amazon uniforms, drive Amazon trucks, deliver Amazon packages, and are tracked by Amazon down to the movements of their eyeballs, are, in fact, not Amazon employees:

https://www.wired.com/story/his-drivers-unionized-then-amazon-tried-to-terminate-his-contract/

These workers have plenty of cause to want to unionize. Amazon warehouses are sources of grueling torment. Take "megacycling," a ten-hour shift that runs from 1:20AM to 11:50AM that workers are plunged into without warning or the right to refuse. This isn't just a night shift – it's a night shift that makes it impossible to care for your children or maintain any kind of normal life.

Then there's Jeff Bezos's war on his workers' kidneys. Amazon warehouse workers and drivers notoriously have to pee in bottles, because they are monitored by algorithms that dock their pay for taking bathroom breaks. The road to Amazon's warehouse in Coventry, England is littered with sealed bottles of driver piss, defenestrated by drivers before they reach the depot inspection site.

There's so much piss on the side of the Coventry road that the prankster Oobah Butler was able to collect it, decant it into bottles, and market it on Amazon as an energy beverage called "Bitter Lemon Release Energy," where it briefly became Amazon's bestselling energy drink:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/20/release-energy/#the-bitterest-lemon

(Butler promises that he didn't actually ship any bottled piss to people who weren't in on the gag – but let's just pause here and note how weird it is that a guy who hates our kidneys as much as Jeff Bezos built and flies a penis-shaped rocket.)

Butler also secretly joined the surge of 1,000 workers that Amazon hired for the Coventry warehouse in advance of a union vote, with the hope of diluting the yes side of that vote and forestall the union. Amazon displayed more of its famously selective competence here, spotting Butler and firing him in short order, while totally failing to notice that he was marketing bottles of driver piss as a bitter lemon drink on Amazon's retail platform.

After a long fight, Amazon's Coventry workers are finally getting their union vote, thanks to the GMB union's hard fought battle at the Central Arbitration Committee:

https://www.foxglove.org.uk/2024/04/26/amazon-warehouse-workers-in-coventry-will-vote-on-trade-union-recognition/

And right on schedule, Amazon has once again discovered its incredible facility for ease-of-use. The company has blanketed its shop floor with radioactively illegal "one click to quit the union" QR codes. When a worker aims their phones at the code and clicks the link, the system auto-generates a letter resigning the worker from their union.

As noted, this is totally illegal. English law bans employers from "making an offer to an employee for the sole or main purpose of inducing workers not to be members of an independent trade union, take part in its activities, or make use of its services."

Now, legal or not, this may strike you as a benign intervention on Amazon's part. Why shouldn't it be easy for workers to choose how they are represented in their workplaces? But the one-click system is only half of Amazon's illegal union-busting: the other half is delivered by its managers, who have cornered workers on the shop floor and ordered them to quit their union, threatening them with workplace retaliation if they don't.

This is in addition to more forced "captive audience" meetings where workers are bombarded with lies about what life in an union shop is like.

Again, the contrast couldn't be more stark. If you want to quit a union, Amazon makes this as easy as joining Prime. But if you want to join a union, Amazon makes that even harder than quitting Prime. Amazon has the same attitude to its workers and its customers: they see us all as a resource to be extracted, and have no qualms about tricking or even intimidating us into doing what's best for Amazon, at the expense of our own interests.

The campaigning law-firm Foxglove is representing five of Amazon's Coventry workers. They're doing the lord's work:

https://www.foxglove.org.uk/2024/05/02/legal-challenge-to-amazon-uks-new-one-click-to-quit-the-union-tool/

All this highlights the increasing divergence between the UK and the US when it comes to labor rights. Under the Biden Administration, @NLRB General Counsel Jennifer Abruzzo has promulgated a rule that grants a union automatic recognition if the boss does anything to interfere with a union election:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/06/goons-ginks-and-company-finks/#if-blood-be-the-price-of-your-cursed-wealth

In other words, if Amazon tries these tactics in the USA now, their union will be immediately recognized. Abruzzo has installed an ultra-sensitive tilt-sensor in America's union elections, and if Bezos or his class allies so much as sneeze in the direction of their workers' democratic rights, they automatically lose.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/06/one-click-to-quit-the-union/#foxglove

Image: Isabela.Zanella (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ballot-box-2.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

[kookochan]

Monstera

You need to come back to Korea because your dad has problems in his clan. For safety, he hires Jungkook and his team as bodyguards. But can you resist a man like him?

Summary: Jungkook is your bodyguard who doesn't want to step out of his professionalism, but can you break his rules? +18

bodyguard Jungkook x fem! reader

warnings/content: blood, making out, use of cigarettes and alcohol, guns, yn is a flirty and has a crush but can we judge her?, injuries, yoongi&jimin as jungkooks team!!

wc: 5k

"Why would you accept this job so spontaneously? It's fucking 3 am and I'm super sleepy," Jimin says for the nth time since they arrived at the airport. Jungkook is standing next to him and groans. "I told you that he offered a lot of money. You would totally say yes too," he says, shrugging his shoulders.

"Okay, I know I said I don't want to know about this person, but I changed my mind. Who are we waiting for?" Jimin asks with curiosity. "The daughter of a businessman. The world knows him as that, but he is also doing some illegal stuff. He told me that he needs to protect her, so he sent her back home. I think the job will be easy. She grew up with a golden spoon, so she will be ignoring us. We need to stay professional, that's all," he explains. Jimin rolls his eyes. "She will be a bitch." Jungkook shows him his phone. The open bank account was smiling at Jimin. "Oh my god. Fuck," he replies.

"She is Korean, but she only speaks English. That will be a little bit difficult but also good for us if we need to talk about something that she is not allowed to hear," Jungkook says. "Oh man, I feel shy talking in English," Jimin groans. After the small conversation, they wait in silence.

"Look, someone really flew with a plant. How did she get that into the plane?" Jimin thinks aloud. Jungkook looks at the same spot and notices a woman with a monstera. He never liked plants and flowers, but these looked pretty. His eyes wander to the woman, and they have eye contact for some seconds. She looks at her phone and quickly looks back at him.

"Why is she waving at us?" Jimin asks, a little confused. You walk towards them with a little smile. "Hello, I'm Yn Yln. My dad sent me a photo of the guy who will take me home. So yeah, that's why I was looking at you the whole time," you say, getting shy by their intense energy. "Oh, hello, sorry for the awkward moment. My name is Park Jimin. You can use Jimin if you like," he says with a friendly handshake. "You can call me YN too," you say. You look at the man standing next to him. "Hello, Miss Yln. We will be on your side for the next few days until your dad arrives here," Jungkook says while ignoring your stretched hand and starts walking towards the parking garage.

You share a look with Jimin and follow him. "How was your flight?" Jimin asks. "It was too long. But I slept a lot and watched some movies, so it was bearable," you answer him. "Is he Jeon Jungkook? My dad told me about him," you ask. "Yes, that's him. He is really serious about his job," Jimin says. "Yeah, I can tell."

When you reach the car, someone else is waiting with a cigarette between his fingers. He inhales his last breath and throws it into an ashtray beside the door. You watch him go to open the car door for you. It's sad that only Jimin is talking to you. "Okay, her suitcase is in the back. We can go," Jungkook says, only to realize that both men already got in the car. He takes a deep breath before sitting next to you in the backseat. The monstera is between you two.

"Oh, next to me is Yoongi. He is a little grumpy; don't take it personally," Jimin says with a grin. Only to get a glare as a response. "Nice to meet you," you say with a smile. You watch the scene outside the window. A lot of city lights passing next to you. Everything feels new to you. The last time you visited Seoul was when you were a child.

When you stand at the traffic lights, you notice a little booth with snacks. You turn to Jungkook, who is looking at his phone. You know he noticed that you're looking at him, but he pretends. That little snake, you think. Jimin and Yoongi were talking about something in Korean. You're not sure if they are talking or discussing. "I'm hungry," you say and break the silence. But nobody reacts. The two in the front seats are still talking, and Jungkook doesn't even look up.

You move your head next to the front seat, and by the time the lights spring from yellow to green, you step out of the car. "What are you doing—" Jungkook yells, but you already slam the door and walk away. "Oh my god, she just stepped out," Jimin says while holding his chin in disbelief. Yoongi curses and tries to park the car somewhere. Jungkook is looking out of the window in case you change the route.

"Where did she go?" Jungkook whispers to himself. All three of them are looking around. "I'm here!" you call. You're sitting on a stool and eating tteokbokki from a small bowl. "Why would you run away? You know why you're here and how dangerous it could be!" Jungkook says while raising his voice. You look up at him while chewing and shrug your shoulders.

"Oh, come on. I'm not a babysitter or anything. What are we even doing right now?" Yoongi says in Korean. "Calm down. It's a job," Jimin says. "Hey, it's not nice talking in another language," you say. "Also, I told you that I'm hungry, but you ignored me," you add. You watch as Jungkook rolls his eyes. "Okay, are you done eating then? We need to go to the hotel," he says and tries holding back. He just needs to think about the amount of money he is making. "Yeah, I'm done," you say and stand up.

-

The hotel room was not a room. It's a full suite. The only thing that's bothering you is that they stay with you. "Are you going to stay here too?" you ask. "Yes, we need to stay here as well. Until your dad is coming back," Jungkook answers. "Oh, Jimin and I booked the room next door. You can stay here with her," Yoongi says and walks out of the suite. "Good night, you two. See you tomorrow!" Jimin says and walks out. You share a look with Jungkook. "Okay, I need to correct the information. I need to stay here too," Jungkook says. He is annoyed, but he will scold them tomorrow.

"Are you always this cold?" you ask while sitting down next to him. "I'm just doing my job," he answers. Not looking in your direction. "Can we pretend that we're friends or something? It feels awkward like this," you plead. He shakes his head as a no. "Okay, that's okay too. You look hot like this," you say while watching him. Your eyes wander from his big shoulders to his tiny waist and then a little more down. His head snaps to you, and you can see that his earlobe is turning red. You laugh at him. "So cute. Do you have a girlfriend?" He stands up. "No. Good night. Go to bed." You watch him walk to the balcony. "So sexy," you whisper. "I'm married," he says and closes the door. Your face drops quicker than ever.

-

The morning sun hits your face. You carefully sit up and look around. After sitting in silence for a while, you stand up to change into a daily outfit and do your morning routine. When you step out of your room, all three are already sitting on the couch. Two laptops on the table and some guns.

You straight walk to the balcony to get some fresh air. "Here, drink some tea," Jimin says while handing you a cup. "Thanks," you say and sip it. "What are you guys doing?" you ask. "Some security checks," he answers. "When is your job done?" you ask. It feels like an interrogation. "What is that supposed to mean! Are you sick of us?" he asks back with a playful smile. "Nah, I mean I would be mad if my husband were to be away for that long," you bitterly say. You hope that he will give you some answers; you do want to know about his wife. The lucky one.

"Husband?" he asks, confused. "Jungkook's wife," you say. Jimin starts laughing while you watch him in confusion. "Why are you laughing?" you ask and punch his arm. "He is saying that when a client starts flirting with him. He is not married and also has no girlfriend," Jimin says while moving his eyebrows. "Oh, that bastard! I was just flirting a little, okay? I asked him about a girlfriend! Why would he do that?" you say, frustrated. "I mean, now you know that he is single, I guess," Jimin says. You look at him with a knowing smile.

When you both walk inside, you bid him goodbye. Jimin looks at you confused, but you walk towards the door anyway. "Where are you going?" Jungkook asks. "Out?" you say with a confused expression. "No, you're not going out," he says back.

"Excuse me? I thought your job was taking me to a hotel and not ordering me around," you say while putting your hands on your hips. "No, we are responsible for your safety, and we got information about some things. You can't leave," Jungkook says. "But I already planned a date with my friends," you pout. Jungkook only rolls his eyes.

You walk and sit next to him. "What is all of this?" you ask. "We're trying to track some people who are after you," Jimin says. He gets a sharp glance from Yoongi. "There are people after me?" you ask aloud. "Don't worry. You don't need to know anything. We will take care," Yoongi says. You lean back with a huff. This was not the trip that you wanted.

"Why is one of them directly driving to the hotel? Nobody knows that we're staying here. That's not a coincidence," Yoongi says in Korean. "That's so weird," Jimin says back. Jungkook finally turns towards you. You're lying beside him in a weird position. Legs still off the couch, but your upper body on the couch. Your head next to his thigh and the phone in your hand.

"Did you tell anyone that we're staying at this hotel?" Jungkook asks. You turn a little to look at his face. "Hmm, no, I don't think so," you say. "Oh wait, I told a friend about that," you correct. "Who is this friend?" Jungkook asks. You quickly sit up. "Wait, are you jealous? I told you we could be friends, but you didn't want to." Jimin laughs about that. "No, dummy, I need the name," Jungkook says. He is already feeling annoyed. "Mei. Li Mei is her name. Why?" you say. Jimin starts searching for the name. "Fuck, it's the daughter of King Li," Jimin says.

"Oh great. So you're telling the daughter of one of the biggest enemies of your father that you're staying here? When you need to be safe? Are you stupid, or are you just acting like one?" Jungkook yells at you. "Wait, she is the daughter of one enemy? Since when? I didn't even know. You really think my father shares his clan shit with me!" you yell back at him. "Okay, calm down, you two. We need to go. They're on the way," Jimin says.

You stand up to gather your belongings. "Come on, be quick!" Jungkook says. "Stop yelling at me! And stop ordering me around! I'm not your kid," you say while pointing at him. The tension is thick between you two. When you finally get your monstera, you walk out. The elevator is already waiting because of Jimin. By the time you get to the entrance and walk towards the back door, you hear a loud shot. The pot of the Monstera shatters in your hand, and you lose the hold on it. Jungkook quickly pulls you behind him and starts shooting in the direction.

He manages to move you behind the reception desk. "You okay?" he asks. You're in shock, and you try to understand what's happening. "I'm good. But the monstera. It was my mum's," you say with a shaky voice. "I'm sorry for that. I know it's the only thing that remains of her," Jungkook says and softly caresses your arm. "What? Did my mother die? My mom is dead?" you ask and start crying. Jungkook's eyes widened, and he cursed under his breath. "Oh my god, no! I thought she died, and you can't let it go! Why else would you carry a fucking monstera with you?!" he speaks in panic. You hit his shoulder twice. "Asshole! She told me to bring it here. She will kill me if she finds out that I lost it!"

"Okay, sorry that I assumed the worst! Now stay here until I come back, okay?" he says. You hold onto his arm. "Where are you going? Please stay." "I will be back," he says and walks away. You can only hear the gunshots and pray that everyone is safe. Time passes, and you see Jimin kneeling next to you. "Okay, when I say three, we're going to run, okay?" he says. You nod quietly. "Three" is the first thing he says, and both of you run towards the back backdoor. Yoongi already sits in the car, and you get in the back. Seconds later Jungkook sits next to you, and Yoongi pulls off as fast as he can.

"Never tell anyone where you're staying, okay?" Jungkook tells you. "I'm sorry," you say. How could you know that everything will change like this? You thought she was a friend and that you could trust her. You need to talk to your father about all these secrets that he kept. Jimin hands out a cloth, breaking your train of thoughts. You look at him confused. "Your hands are bleeding," he says. Only then do you feel the cuts in your hands. "Thank you," you say while taking the cloth. Jungkook takes it from your hands and rips it into two halves. He starts bandaging it on both hands. You watch his long fingers doing their magic. Yeah, you have a little crush on him.

-

You're sitting on a couch wrapped in a blanket. The night is cold, and the three men are talking about security in the kitchen. You look at your hands in your lap. The cuts sting, and you just want it to stop. After some time, Jimin and Yoongi walk to the terrace, and Jungkook comes back to you with a first aid kit. "Give me your hands," he says and sits down next to you. "Why are you going to propose?" you tease him. He sighs and holds your right hand. Wasting no time, he starts to bandage it the right way. "You're really gentle and skilled," you comment. "I do this often," he answers.

"It's the first time that I see your tattoos. They're pretty. And it suits you," you say while outlining the snake. "Thanks," he says and goes on with your left hand so you are forced to not touch him anymore. "I'm sorry for not thinking about the safety rule," you say genuinely. "I'm sorry for yelling at you. I should know that your dad never talked about this stuff," he says. "Oh, you really said sorry! That was unexpected," you say with a smile. He smiles back, but it's quickly gone. You still catch it. "You look cute when you smile," you say. He looks into your eyes for the first time today. It's quiet but not suffocating between you. You don't know where the encouragement comes from, but you lean in and kiss him. His underlip between yours. At first he doesn't react, but after a second he kisses you back. Just slightly, and then he pulls away.

"I know that you lied about this marriage thing," you say. He takes a deep breath. "It's not my style to fall in love or flirt with someone while I'm working," he says in a serious voice. "Oh, come on, just a little bit of fun?" you ask with puppy eyes. He flicks your forehead. "No." "Did you ever break the rule?" you ask. "No, and I will not," he answers. You sulk at him, but he doesn't care. He goes on with closing the first aid kit. Jungkook watches you from the corner of his eye. He smiles at your cute face. He needs to admit that you have a little impact on him. Maybe bigger than he wants to admit. There is no way of pretending that he doesn't want to deepen the kiss.

-

The next morning you join them at the table for breakfast. Jungkook offers you a plate with some pancakes. "Thanks," you say and smile at him. "Today there is an event. My dad told me that I should go to make a point that everything is fine. Did he talk about it?" you ask. "Yes, he told us. We will go together and only stay for one or two hours," Jimin explains. You nod at him. "When are you done with the job?" you ask. "Your father is coming back next week," Jimin says.

You continue with eating the pancakes and some fruits. Already planning what you will wear. Then you glance at Jungkook, who is busy on his iPad. Your eyes wander to Jimin and Yoongi, who are focused on eating. It's weird that they know a lot about you and your family, but you know nothing. Next week they will leave your life like nothing happened.

After breakfast you start getting ready. A black dress and waves as a hairstyle are a safe option. You choose a red lipstick. When you hear the knock on your door, you turn around. Jungkook stays there in a black suit. Of course you will match, you think. A little delusional that black is not the safe color for everyone in this world.

"Come on, you can tell me that I look hot," you say with a wink. He rolls his eyes at you. Not knowing that you find it hot. "I wanted to ask if you're done," he says. "You look hot. The black shirt is a dessert for my eyes," you say. He does the little smirk. "Be careful, you're drooling." You laugh at him and stand up. "For you every time, honey." You tap on his shoulder and leave the room. Jungkook needs some seconds to breathe again.

-

The music is quiet, a lot of people are talking, and a lot of waitresses are walking with champagne. You take one and start drinking. These kinds of events are never fun for you. You wish that everything will go smoothly.

Jungkook is standing across from your table. He is watching every move you make. A young man is talking to you with a big smile. He is definitely flirting with you, and he doesn't know why he feels annoyed by that. The man leans in to tell you something, but your eyes wander towards him. The eye contact is strong. You walk off in his direction, and he fixes his suit.

"Would you dance with me?" you ask with a smile. "No," he says and looks around. "Oh, come on, I told him that I already have a partner. Otherwise he will ask me again!" you say with pleading eyes. "Please," you push. He rolls his eyes but takes your hand. You move to the dance floor, where a lot of couples have already started dancing. Your arms are around his neck, and his fingers find your waist. The movements are slow but intense.

"You know, I thought about your stupid rule," you break the silence. He looks down at you. "I would like to know you better. Maybe it was not the right thing to flirt with you directly, but we can go out on a date next week. When the job is over," you say. Jungkook pulls you near to his body. "That's a compromise," he says with a smile. You need to save this frame forever. "Is that a yes?" you ask. The music slows down, a reminder that it's ending. "Yes," he says and stops moving. The music ends, and both of you walk to the table.

The event goes on with you telling all the gossip to Jimin. Yoongi acts like he doesn't care but is still listening. Jungkook is sipping his wine, not even listening to you. Jimin is fascinated by the funny stories. He thought the night would be boring. Yoongi checks the clock. "It's time to go," he says. "Let's drink at home?" you suggest. Jimin is the only one who likes the suggestion.

By the time you walk towards the door, you catch someone watching you closely. For a second you have eye contact. The problem is he looks familiar, but also it's like you saw him for the first time. You break the contact and walk to the car.

-

"Iron Man? I would marry him without hesitation," you say and take a shot. "I would too look at him," Jimin says while laughing. Yoongi and Jungkook are watching you in disbelief. "We should stop them here," Yoongi says. "Both look like shit," he adds in Korean. You and Jimin turn towards him in shock. "That's mean," you say in Korean. Just to gain all of their attention. "You can speak and understand Korean," Yoongi points out. "Yeah, I can. My dad told me to keep it a secret, so don't tell anyone," you say.

Jimin fills new shots and hands you one. You both take it at the same time. Yoongi and Jungkook share a look. "Okay, the party is over," Jungkook says and helps you get up. Yoongi pulls Jimin to the room. "Good night!" Jimin screams before the door closes. "Why would you stop us? We had so much fun," you say while Jungkook is walking you to the bathroom. "You were about to get drunk. Just brush your teeth, and then you can go to sleep. God, I'm so thankful that you did your routine and changed into pajamas before drinking," he says.

You listen to him and brush your teeth. He walks to your room and prepares the bed. You lean against the doorframe and watch him. "Thank you," you say. He smiles at you and holds your hand. "Come on, it's time to sleep," he says. His hand feels warm and secure. "Can you sleep with me?" you ask and lay down. He brushes some strands that are in your face away. "Kiss me," you say while watching his intense eyes.

Jungkook drops his rules and leans in. Starting to kiss your lips slowly only to go deeper. You're struggling to adjust, so you're leaving it to him. You want to feel more of him, so you start wandering your hands around his torso. He towers over you and starts kissing your throat. "You smell so good," he says. "I want more," you say. He moves his hands to your waist. His hardness is poking you. You move your hips in frustration, and he starts doing the same. The only thing separating you is your pajamas and his joggers.

He stops kissing your chest and looks into your eyes. "Go to sleep, baby. We made the deal with a date after my job is done," he says. You whine at his words. He lies next to you and embraces you in a hug. You feel comfortable and too sleepy to resist.

-

You open your eyes and look around. Jungkook is sleeping with one leg over your legs. You smile at his cute face. Playing with his messy hair. He slowly opens his eyes and looks at you. "Good morning," he says and starts getting up. "Good morning, mister," you say back. "I will go prepare some breakfast," he says and walks out of your room. You also get up to do your morning routine.

When you enter the kitchen, Jimin is already sitting there with a pout. "You good?" you ask him while sitting next to him. "Good morning, princess. Just a headache, like always," he says. You sigh, "Same here. But it was fun! We need to do it more often!" He laughs at you, "Yeah, we should."

"You need to eat first before taking painkillers," Jungkook says and puts two toasted sandwiches in front of you. You share it with Jimin and happily eat together. Your phone buzzes next to you. An unknown number sent a message.

unknown: we need to talk

Yn: who are you?

unknown: you pretended not to know me yesterday. But you saw me while leaving. Remember?

"What's wrong?" Jimin asks. "I saw someone yesterday before we left. He was watching me, and I tried to remember who he was. But then I thought that I don't know him. He just texted me," you say and show your phone. Yoongi and Jungkook are also looking at the messages. "That's weird. Ask his name," Yoongi says.

Yn: tell me your name maybe it helps.

unkown: now you're acting like you don't know me. That hurts. It's me, Hoseok.

"Oh, it's Hoseok. I do know that name. My father told me that his father wanted an alliance by getting us married. We declined it. Maybe he is mad," you tell them. "Okay, but what does he want now?" Jimin asks. "I really don't know" you say.

Yn: what do you want?

Hoseok: I want to talk to you

Yn: there's nothing to talk about. Leave me alone

"He wants to talk, but of course I will not," you say and put your phone down. Not aware of the dangerous game that he planned.

"Find her," Hoseok says to his right-hand man. He was looking after you for two years. Not knowing that you moved away. But now he would get revenge. Your father killed his father.

-

The days pass quicker than you expected. The three of you are more than strangers. Also, Yoongi was nicer to you and was talking about different things. You're happy to know that after they're done, you will stay friends.

"Did you think about our first date?" you ask Jungkook, who is sitting on the terrace. "I would like to invite you to my house. I will cook something for you, and we can watch a movie. It's still not safe to go out," he says. You lean your head against his shoulder. "That's cute. I can imagine your house. Everything is clean and organized," you say. He leans his head over yours. "I'm not that cold, man, you imagine me to be," he says, a little offended. "Yup, of course you're not," you say sarcastically. He pouts at your words. You're excited to have the chance to know him better.

"Let's cook something. I'm hungry," you say after a while. You both stand up and go inside. Yoongi and Jimin are taking a nap in their room. Jungkook opens the fridge to look for some ingredients. By that time your phone rings. It's an unknown number, but you answer it anyway.

"Hello," you say while walking to the kitchen. "Hey, pretty," Hoseok says. You stand still on the spot. "What do you want?" you ask, a little annoyed. "I'm so sorry that it will end like this. I mean, I imagined you as my wife, but now you're nothing more than my revenge plan," he says. "What are you talking about?" you ask, a little annoyed that he is making a puzzle out of it. "Your dad killed my dad. And when I found out he sent you back home. He is stupidly pretty. He thought I would come for him. He really thought I wouldn't know that you're here. Maybe he did know and told you to join the event. My event. What do you think?" he asks. You swallow and feel your hands shake. "Where are you?" you ask. "Good question. That's why I wanted you. What a shame," he says.

Jungkook walks to the kitchen door, a little confused why you take so long. He looks you up and down, and he knows something is wrong. You lock your eyes with him. His eyes wander to the laser pointer at your chest. His heart beats faster than ever. "Get down!" he screams. But the only thing you hear are two shots and the window that is shattering. Because of the sharp pain in your chest and hip, you lose the energy to stay and fall to the side. Jungkook is quick to catch you. The phone is already gone.

"Yn, stay with me, okay? Don't close your eyes!" he yells in panic. Yoongi and Jimin are running towards you. "Here, press this to the wound," Yoongi offers his shirt. Jungkook does as he is told. Your eyes wander, and you try to breathe. "I'm scared," you whisper. Breaking him completely. He starts crying, "No, I'm here. You can't leave. What about our deal?" he asks. Trying to let you stay awake. Your eyes betray you, and you start crying too.

"I called the ambulance. They will be here," Jimin says. All of them are in shock. Yoongi is pressing another cloth on your other wound. "She is losing too much blood," he says quietly. Jungkook strokes your hair. "You will stay, right?" he asks. It's the first time that you see him so vulnerable. His big eyes were red from crying. The urge to sleep is too strong. He holds your hand. You try to fight it. You really do. But the pain is eating you up. Your eyes are closing. The last thing you hear is his small voice with a sob, "Please stay." Will you?

Thank you for reading! I'm cursed with writing open endings... I hope you liked it <3

Feel free to share your thoughts 🫧

[divinelyparkjimin]

— sweet and spicy [m] | ksj.

◦ summary ↠ studying with your tutor should be simple, but distractions can lead to unexpected lessons. who knew cramming for exams could get this... heated? (requested by anon)

◦ pairing ↠ seokjin x reader

◦ word count ↠ 5.9k

◦ genre ↠ fluff, smut

◦ content warning(s) ↠ tutor!seokjin, student!reader, suggestive/explicit content, dirty talk, penetrative sex, ejaculation, f. and m. orgasm, oral sex, a lot of making out, unprotected sex, handjob, tit sucking

a/n: this is for the anon that requested a oneshot with seokjin and his lovely lips <3 ik you said kinda spicy but i accidentally made it very spicy lol, hope you don't mind!

masterlist

The clock on the library wall ticked in perfect sync with your growing anxiety. You had been staring at the same problem for ten minutes, the numbers on the page blurring together into a mess of indecipherable hieroglyphics.

“I’m going to fail,” you muttered under your breath, slumping further into your seat.

Your professor’s voice from last week echoed in your head: “You should really consider a tutor. It might help clear up some of the confusion.”

And now, here you were, waiting for your supposed savior to arrive and pull you from the depths of statistical despair.

The door creaked open, and you glanced up just in time to see him step inside.

“Sorry I’m late,” the newcomer said, setting his bag on the table with a soft thud. “The café line was longer than I thought.”

He was tall, dressed in a cozy gray sweater that looked as soft as a cloud, and his black-rimmed glasses perched perfectly on the bridge of his nose. But what truly caught your attention—against your better judgment—were his lips. They looked… soft. Pink. Kissable, even.

“I’m Seokjin,” he said, his voice warm and smooth. He offered a smile, and oh, that just made it worse. His lips curved in the kind of way that could make angels weep.

You snapped out of it, suddenly realizing he was waiting for you to introduce yourself. “Oh! Uh, hi. I’m—um—Y/N.”

He nodded, pulling out a notebook and pen. “Alright, so what’s giving you trouble?”

“Everything,” you admitted, gesturing dramatically at your textbook.

Seokjin laughed, the sound light and easy, but your eyes betrayed you and flicked to his mouth. The way his lips moved when he laughed—it was almost hypnotic. You mentally slapped yourself. Focus. You’re here to pass this class, not ogle your tutor.

“Okay, let’s start simple,” he said, flipping through your textbook until he found a page filled with diagrams and formulas. “Here’s a problem. Walk me through how you’d solve it.”

You nodded, trying to focus on the numbers. But Seokjin leaned closer to point something out on the page, and suddenly, your brain short-circuited. His lips were so close you could see the faintest shine of lip balm.

“So, what do you think?” he asked, looking at you expectantly.

You blinked. “Huh?”

He tilted his head. “The problem?”

“Oh, uh…” You scrambled to come up with something that didn’t sound ridiculous. “Yeah, I… totally get it now. Thanks!”

His brows furrowed, but the corners of his mouth twitched like he was trying not to laugh. “Really? Because you just wrote the wrong formula entirely.”

Your face flushed. “Oh. Right. I was just… testing you?”

Seokjin laughed again, the sound sending your heart racing. “Sure you were. Don’t worry, I’ll explain it again.”

By the third time Seokjin explained the problem, you had made some progress. But honestly? Your brain was running on fumes.

"See? It's not that bad," he said, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied grin. "You’re getting the hang of it.”

You managed a weak smile, still hyper-aware of the way his lips moved with every word. How was it possible to explain statistics and look that good doing it? It should’ve been illegal.

"Yeah, sure," you replied, tapping your pen against your notebook to distract yourself. "I mean, I still hate it, but at least it makes… slightly more sense now."

Seokjin chuckled, his shoulders shaking just enough to make his sweater shift in the most distracting way. You were about to tell yourself to get it together when he suddenly leaned forward again, his elbow propped on the table and his chin resting on his hand.

"So," he said casually, "why did you really sign up for tutoring? You don't seem like the type to give up easily."

You froze. Was he teasing you? His tone was light, but his eyes held genuine curiosity.

"Um," you stalled, trying to come up with a reasonable answer that didn’t involve your professor practically begging you to get help. "I guess I just… wanted to make sure I didn’t fail? You know, for my GPA."

He nodded thoughtfully, and for a moment, you thought you’d gotten away with it.

"Fair enough," he said. But then his lips quirked into a smirk. "But you might want to stop zoning out so much during our sessions if you really want that GPA to survive."

Your face burned. "I don’t—" You cut yourself off, realizing how defensive you sounded. "I’m not zoning out."

"Really?" he said, tilting his head. "Because every time I look up, you’re staring at me like I just said something in Greek."

"Maybe it’s because statistics is Greek," you shot back, desperate to steer the conversation away from your very obvious distraction.

He laughed again, and this time, it was louder, filling the quiet library room. His laughter wasn’t polished or quiet; it was unfiltered, almost boyish, and far too contagious.

“Well, maybe I should start explaining in actual Greek,” he teased, closing your textbook with a soft thud. “Or we could call it a day. You’re making progress, but your brain looks like it’s about to overheat.”

You opened your mouth to protest but realized he wasn’t wrong. “Fine,” you said, leaning back in your chair. “But next time, you’re bringing snacks. Brain fuel and all that.”

Seokjin raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a smirk. “You’re really bold for someone who just admitted to hating this entire subject.”

“And yet,” you shot back, gathering your things, “you’re still tutoring me. So, who’s the real fool here?”

His laughter bubbled up again, softer this time, and you felt a small swell of pride at having made him laugh. It was quickly replaced by a flutter of nerves when he reached over to tap the corner of your notebook.

“Same time next week?” he asked, his voice a little quieter.

“Yeah,” you said, suddenly feeling warm under his gaze. “Thanks, Seokjin.”

He smiled, a soft, almost shy thing, and nodded. “Anytime.”

The following week, you found yourself looking forward to tutoring. Not because of the subject (God, no), but because of him. Every time you walked into the library and saw him waiting there, his glasses perched on his nose and a soft smile playing on his lips, it was like a little jolt of electricity.

This time, Seokjin greeted you with a coffee cup and a small bag of pastries.

“Fuel,” he said, holding them out. “For the overworked student who claims to hate stats but keeps showing up anyway.”

You blinked at him, surprised. “You actually brought snacks? You know I was just kidding.”

He shrugged, but there was a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “I thought it might help. Plus, bribery works wonders for focus.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

“Only when I have pastries,” he replied, sliding one toward you.

For the next hour, you worked through problems, your frustration ebbing slightly thanks to the sugar and Seokjin’s patient explanations. Still, your focus wavered every now and then—especially when he leaned closer to check your work, his glasses slipping down his nose just enough to make your heart race.

“You’re doing better,” he said, his tone genuinely impressed. “See? I told you it wasn’t hopeless.”

“Maybe it’s your teaching,” you replied without thinking, and then froze when his ears turned pink.

“Maybe,” he said softly, his gaze flicking to yours for just a moment before he cleared his throat. “Okay, let’s try this one.”

But as the session went on, you noticed it wasn’t just you who seemed distracted. Seokjin kept fiddling with his pen, his eyes lingering on you a little longer than usual. When he leaned closer to point something out, you thought you caught him glance at your lips before quickly looking back at the page.

By the time the session ended, your heart was pounding, and you weren’t sure if it was from the stats or something else entirely.

The next morning, an email from Seokjin had come in.

Hey, just a heads-up—I’m not going to campus today, but if you still want to meet, we can do the session at my place. Let me know if that works.

It had taken you all of five seconds to reply.

That’s fine, I really need this session. Text me the address.

And now here you were, standing outside Seokjin’s apartment with your notebook clutched to your chest and a slight flutter of nerves in your stomach.

You knocked twice, and within seconds, the door swung open.

“Hey,” Seokjin said, his usual soft smile in place. He was dressed in a simple hoodie and sweatpants, and somehow he looked even better like this—comfortable and casual, with his hair slightly tousled as if he’d just run his hands through it.

“Come in,” he said, stepping aside to let you in.

His apartment was small but cozy, with warm lighting, a neatly arranged bookshelf, and a faint scent of coffee lingering in the air. There was a laptop open on the coffee table and a few notebooks stacked beside it.

“You didn’t have to bring all your stuff,” he said, eyeing the books tucked under your arm.

“I didn’t know what to expect,” you admitted, setting your things down on the table. “But I’m not taking any chances with finals week coming up in a couple weeks.”

He chuckled, gesturing toward the couch. “Well, you’re in luck. I even made coffee. Or tea, if that’s more your thing.”

You sat down, trying not to notice how close he was when he joined you. The couch wasn’t exactly huge, and the way his knee brushed against yours when he shifted sent a jolt through you.

“Okay,” he said, pulling a notebook onto his lap. “Let’s start with the practice problems I sent you last week.”

At first, it was just like any other session—him explaining concepts, you trying to keep up. But the proximity was impossible to ignore. Every time he leaned over to point at your notebook or correct something, his voice seemed lower, softer, and his presence far too distracting.

“Almost,” Seokjin murmured, his hand brushing yours as he reached for your pencil. “You just forgot to divide by the total here.”

You froze, watching the way his fingers wrapped around the pencil. They were long and elegant, and when he looked up, his face was only inches from yours.

“Oh,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes flicked to yours, and for a moment, the air between you felt heavier. You could see the faint pink on his ears again, the way his lashes fluttered just slightly when he blinked.

“Here,” he said, pulling back and clearing his throat. “Try it again.”

You nodded, forcing yourself to focus on the problem. But as the session went on, the tension only grew.

At one point, you leaned over to grab your eraser from the table, and when you straightened up, your shoulder brushed against his. It was such a small thing, but the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of his hoodie lingered.

“Sorry,” you muttered, though you weren’t sure why.

“No, it’s fine,” he said quickly, his voice a little tighter than usual.

By the end of the session, you were both more relaxed—or at least pretending to be. The stack of practice problems had dwindled, and Seokjin leaned back against the couch, stretching his arms over his head with a groan.

“You’re actually getting good at this,” he said, his voice teasing but genuine. “See? Told you stats wasn’t impossible.”

“Only because you’re a good tutor,” you replied, surprising yourself with how easily the words came out.

Seokjin paused mid-stretch, his eyes meeting yours. There was something unreadable in his expression, but it disappeared quickly as he smiled.

“Thanks,” he said, sitting up again.

The conversation might’ve ended there, but then you noticed a small smudge of ink beside his cushiony lips—probably from when he’d been jotting down notes earlier.

“You’ve got…” You hesitated, gesturing vaguely at your own face. “Ink. Right there.”

“Where?” he asked, frowning as he touched his cheek, missing the spot entirely.

“Here,” you said, leaning forward without thinking. Your hand brushed against his jaw as you wiped at the smudge with your thumb, and you felt him go completely still under your touch.

When you realized what you were doing, you froze too, your eyes locking with his. His gaze flicked to your lips, and for a second, you thought he might close the distance between you.

“Got it,” you said quickly, pulling back and trying to ignore the way your heart was pounding.

“Thanks,” he murmured, his voice lower than before.

The rest of the session ended in a flurry of awkward goodbyes and hurried packing, but as you left his apartment, you couldn’t shake the memory of how close you’d been—or the way his lips had looked in that moment, soft and impossibly inviting.

After the first session at Seokjin’s apartment, the two of you fell into a new rhythm. Instead of meeting at the library, you started alternating between your places. It was more convenient, and though neither of you said it out loud, it felt… comfortable. Familiar. Like a natural evolution of whatever this was between you.

For your next session, Seokjin arrived a few minutes early, balancing a bag of takeout in one hand and his ever-present notebook in the other.

“You didn’t have to bring food,” you said, stepping aside to let him in.

He shrugged, setting the bag on your coffee table. “Consider it payment for making me leave the house on a Saturday.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, sitting beside him on the couch. As the session began, you noticed how different it felt having him here, in your space. The way he looked so at ease, leaning back against your cushions, his long legs stretching out in front of him.

At one point, you got up to grab your water bottle, and when you came back, Seokjin had a mischievous grin on his face.

“Do you always study with a giant stuffed bear on your couch?” he teased, holding up the plushie you’d forgotten to hide.

Your face burned. “It’s comfortable, okay?”

“I’m not judging,” he said, his grin widening. “I’m just saying, you could’ve warned me I’d have competition.”

You groaned, grabbing the bear from him and tossing it aside. But the playful banter eased the tension, making the session feel more like hanging out than studying.

By the time you’d finished the practice problems, Seokjin stretched his arms over his head and let out a dramatic sigh.

“Okay, enough stats for one day. My brain is fried,” he declared.

“Yeah same,” you sighed before raising an eyebrow. “Is this how you treat all your students?”

“Only the ones who threaten to fail without me,” he shot back, smirking.

Your next session was set to be at your apartment again, with Seokjin arriving at your apartment looking as put-together as ever. You were already flustered—having barely managed to shove your laundry into a basket to make the place look semi-presentable.

"Don’t judge," you warned as he stepped in, glancing around your living room.

“I’m not,” he replied, amused. “I’ve seen worse.”

The session went smoothly enough, but at some point, Seokjin needed a pen.

"Do you have another one?" he asked, looking up from his notebook.

"Yeah, let me grab one!" you said, heading toward your desk.

Before you could, though, Seokjin leaned over the arm of the couch to grab your backpack—and froze, pulling out an article of clothing instead.

"Uh…" His voice trailed off as he held it up—a lacy, bright-colored bra that you’d obviously forgotten to hide.

You whipped around, horrified. “Oh my God, Seokjin, put that down!”

But instead of being embarrassed, he smirked, dangling the bra by one strap.

“Well,” he said, his tone teasing but his ears betraying him with a hint of redness, “I didn’t know tutoring came with such… unexpected discoveries.”

“Stop!” you yelped, lunging forward to snatch it from him.

He laughed, holding it just out of reach. “Is this what you’ve been distracted by during our sessions? Should I start dressing fancier to compete?”

“Seokjin, I swear—”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” he relented, handing it back to you with a grin. But the way his eyes lingered on your flustered expression made your heart pound.

“Next time, I’m hiring a professional tutor,” you muttered, stuffing the bra into your laundry basket.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Sure you will.”

A couple days later, Seokjin had invited you over again, this time for a movie. Although, if you were being honest with yourself, the movie was probably the last thing on either of your minds.

"Okay, so you’re telling me you’ve never seen this movie?" Seokjin asked, holding up the DVD case like it was a sacred relic.

“Not everyone’s a walking encyclopedia of rom-coms,” you shot back, leaning back against the armrest of his couch.

“It’s not just a rom-com,” he argued, waving the case in front of you like it was the most important thing on the planet. “It’s a classic. You’ll thank me later.”

With a dramatic sigh, you gave in, letting him pop the DVD into the player. Soon enough, you were both nestled comfortably on his couch, a bowl of popcorn between you.

The movie started off fine enough, but as it went on, your attention started to wander. Seokjin’s proximity—the feeling of his body so close to yours, the way his arm rested casually along the back of the couch, his knee brushing against yours whenever he shifted—was far more distracting than the plot.

The soft glow of the TV illuminated his face, casting gentle shadows across his features, making him look even more attractive. His lips, soft and slightly parted as he laughed at some of the jokes, became the sole object of your focus.

"You’re quiet," he murmured during a lull in the movie, glancing at you sideways with a teasing look.

"Just… paying attention," you mumbled, not daring to look at him.

"Are you, though?" he teased, shifting slightly to face you. "Because you’ve been staring at me for the past ten minutes."

Your face immediately heated up. “I have not!”

“Hmm,” he hummed, clearly enjoying your reaction. His smirk widened as he leaned in just a little closer, his face filling your vision. “You sure about that? I wouldn’t mind.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you couldn’t help but look at his lips. His voice had dropped a few notches, and his gaze softened, no longer playful but searching—waiting for something unspoken. The noise of the movie faded as the tension in the air between you two thickened, heavy and palpable.

“Seokjin,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

“Yeah?” His voice was soft, but the way he looked at you—intent and steady—sent a shiver down your spine.

Your eyes darted to his lips for just a moment, and that was all it took. His playful smirk faded, and his expression shifted to something far more sincere, far more urgent. Slowly, his hand lifted, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face before lingering near your cheek, his touch light but warm.

Then, without a word, he closed the distance. His lips met yours in a kiss that started gentle, tentative, almost like a question. You froze for a split second, heart racing, but your body moved on instinct. Your hands gripped the front of his sweater, tugging him closer as the kiss deepened.

The movie continued in the background, but neither of you were paying attention anymore. Seokjin's hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he pulled you closer, his lips moving against yours with more urgency. You kissed him back, eager, your body instinctively pressing against his.

His thumb traced the curve of your jaw, then moved to your lips, caressing them softly before slipping back into the kiss. The sensation was intoxicating—electric. You could feel his heart racing against yours as his lips grew more demanding, his kisses coming faster, deeper.

The soft glow from the TV flickered across his features, making everything feel dreamlike, surreal, as if this moment wasn’t really happening. His hand slipped to your waist, pulling you toward him until your bodies were flush against each other. The heat of his chest, the firmness of his body, left you breathless as you melted into him.

Then, just as the kiss grew more heated, a dramatic swell of music from the movie blasted through the speakers, breaking the spell.

Seokjin pulled back slightly, his lips barely an inch from yours, eyes dark with desire. He glanced toward the screen, looking a little amused before turning back to you.

“We won’t be needing this anymore,” he murmured, his voice low as he reached for the remote, never breaking eye contact. The click of the TV turning off was the only sound in the room now, the sudden silence making everything feel more intense.

Before you could even process what had just happened, Seokjin leaned in again, his lips crashing into yours with renewed fervor. His hands found their way to your back, pulling you even closer, if that was even possible. His lips were hotter now, more demanding, as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

Your hands roamed up to his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his shirt, before you slid your hands into his hair, tugging him closer. He groaned against your lips, his fingers digging into your back as the kiss deepened further, passion igniting between you. The sensation of his lips moving against yours—of his body pressing closer to yours—made your head spin.

You could feel his hands exploring your body, his fingertips brushing the curve of your side, making your breath hitch. His mouth never left yours, the kiss turning into something desperate, almost frantic, as if neither of you could wait any longer. Seokjin’s breath was shallow, his chest rising and falling rapidly as you both lost yourselves in the kiss.

Your bodies were tangled in the soft cushions of the couch now, the world outside fading into oblivion. Every kiss, every touch, felt like an invitation to something more.

Seokjin finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing heavily. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, his voice husky with desire, his thumb brushing along your jaw.

You nodded, trying to catch your breath. “I’m more than okay,” you whispered, your voice shaky but full of longing.

Seokjin’s eyes searched yours, his thumb still brushing along your jaw as if grounding himself in the moment. Just as you opened your mouth to say something, a glance at the clock over his shoulder made your heart drop.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, sitting up abruptly. “I have class in fifteen minutes!”

Seokjin blinked in surprise, then let out a soft laugh. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not!” you exclaimed, frantically gathering your scattered belongings.

He leaned back against the couch, arms draped casually along the cushions, watching you with a grin that made your heart race all over again. “You sure you don’t want to skip? I mean, we were in the middle of something really important.”

You shot him a glare, though the heat in your cheeks probably made it far less intimidating. “Nice try, Seokjin. I can’t fail this class because of you.”

“Fair,” he conceded, standing to walk you to the door. But as you reached for the doorknob, he tugged you back, planting a quick, heated kiss on your lips that left you breathless. “Hurry back when you’re done,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

From that day on, a pattern emerged. Every time you came over—whether to study, watch a movie, or just hang out—the two of you would inevitably end up tangled together, lips locked and breaths mingling. It didn’t matter if it was before or after you hit the books; somehow, the boundaries between tutoring sessions and heated makeout sessions blurred until they were almost nonexistent.

It became your guilty pleasure, a secret routine that neither of you dared to acknowledge aloud. And then, finally, the day of the exam arrived.

You walked into the lecture hall with butterflies in your stomach and left with a grin you couldn’t contain. A 91! You had passed, and not just barely—you’d crushed it. The first thing you did after checking your grade was text Seokjin, your fingers flying over the keyboard as you told him the news.

His response was instant: Come over. We’re celebrating.

You didn’t need to be told twice. Within minutes, you were at his door, and before you could even step inside, Seokjin was pulling you into his arms, his lips crashing into yours.

“Congratulations,” he murmured against your lips, his voice warm and full of pride.

But there was no time for further words. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that sent sparks shooting down your spine. You barely registered the door closing behind you as the two of you stumbled into the apartment, too caught up in each other to care.

His hands roamed over your body with an urgency that made your heart race, slipping beneath your shirt to explore the bare skin underneath. You tugged at his hoodie, eager to feel more of him, and he obliged, pulling it off in one fluid motion before his lips found yours again.

This time, there was no stopping, no holding back. The couch cushions were a familiar backdrop as Seokjin pressed you down, his body warm and solid against yours. His kisses grew deeper as his fingers dipped beneath the hem of your shirt, his eyes flicking up to yours for permission. When you gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, he didn’t hesitate.

With a swift motion, he tugged your shirt up and over your head, tossing it onto the floor. His eyes darkened as they roamed over you, lingering on the lacy bra you’d decided to wear that day.

“Well, well,” he murmured, his tone teasing as his fingers ghosted over the edge of the fabric. “You wore this? Almost like you were expecting to celebrate.” he teased, his fingers grazing the edge of your lacy bra. His smirk was back, though it softened as he leaned in, brushing his lips against your collarbone.

“Shut up,” you managed, breathless and flustered, though the way your hands gripped his shoulders betrayed your eagerness.

Your face burned, and you tried to turn away, but his hand cupped your chin, gently guiding your gaze back to him. His grin widened, clearly enjoying your flustered state.

“I wasn’t—” you started, but he cut you off with a laugh.

“Relax,” he said, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I’m not complaining. In fact…” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “I think it’s perfect.”

His mouth moved lower, leaving a trail of soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, his hands sliding up your sides as he explored every inch of you. When his lips finally returned to yours, the kiss was deeper, hungrier, his body pressing against yours as if he couldn’t get close enough.

Your hands found their way to his shirt, tugging at the fabric until he got the hint and pulled it off. You couldn’t help but let out a soft gasp as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you even closer.

“Still think I’m the one who expected this?” you teased, emboldened by his reaction.

Seokjin paused, his lips hovering over yours as he chuckled, low and rich. “Oh, I definitely did. But I’m glad you were prepared too.”

With that, he captured your lips again, the playful banter melting away as the moment grew even more heated. The air between you was thick with desire, every touch, every kiss igniting a fire that neither of you wanted to put out.

As the kiss deepened, Seokjin's hands roamed over your body, his fingers tracing the curves of your waist, the swell of your hips. Your own hands were just as busy, exploring the contours of his chest, the broadness of his shoulders.

The room around you melted away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the heat of the moment. The darkness was almost palpable, a living thing that wrapped itself around you, holding you close. You felt like you were drowning in Seokjin's eyes, those piercing brown orbs that seemed to see right through to your very soul.

And yet, even as you felt like you were losing yourself in him, you knew that this was exactly where you wanted to be. This was what you had been waiting for, what you had been hoping for all along.

Seokjin's lips left yours for a moment, and he gazed down at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "I want to see all of you," he whispered, his voice low and husky with desire. "I want to touch every inch of your skin."

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks as he spoke, but you couldn't help the way your body responded to his words. You nodded slowly, and Seokjin's eyes flashed with excitement.

With gentle fingers, he reached behind you and unfastened the clasp on your bra. The straps slid down your arms, and Seokjin's eyes widened as he took in the sight of your bare skin. He reached out a hand and cupped one breast in his palm, his thumb tracing circles around the nipple until it hardened beneath his touch.

As Seokjin's hands continued to caress your breasts, his mouth descended upon them, his plump lips wrapping around one nipple with a gentle reverence. The softness and fullness of his lips were almost distracting, making you wonder how something so visually appealing could also feel so incredible. He kissed the nipple softly, his lips molding around it as he sucked gently.

He switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention, his lips tracing circles around the nipple before wrapping around it again. The sensation was exquisite, and you felt yourself arching your back, pushing into his touch as he continued to kiss and suckle your breasts.

After lavishing attention on your breasts, Seokjin's mouth began to kiss down your stomach, his lips tracing a path of fire along your skin. With each kiss, you felt anticipation build within you. He teased you with each touch of his lips, getting closer and closer to the heat between your legs but never quite reaching it. The suspense was deliciously agonizing.

Finally, Seokjin returned to your lips, kissing them with a fervor that left you breathless. His tongue danced against yours as he deepened the kiss. He didn't stop there; his mouth wandered to your neck, leaving behind a trail of hickeys as he sucked and nibbled on the sensitive skin.

"Your lips are so fucking perfect," you whispered into his ear, running your fingers over their full shape in awe. "They feel as good as they look."

Seokjin chuckled low in his throat but didn't stop kissing and sucking on your neck. After a few moments of this sensual assault on your senses, he pulled back slightly and whispered against your earlobe.

"Enough of my lips; time to see what yours can do."

With that tantalizing promise hanging in the air between you like an unfinished challenge waiting for resolution - Seokjin stood up from where they had been sitting together on couch pulling both pants & boxers all way down letting them pool at feet before taking seat once more now fully exposed

You got onto your knees between his legs spread wide and proceeded to give him a blow job. You began by licking his quivering length, taking its head into your mouth. You started sucking gently, gradually increasing suction pressure and movement speed.

Your hand rose to begin stroking his shaft up and down while continuing to suck on it, your fingers wrapped tightly around base, moving in the opposite direction of your head bobbing. You made sure to pay special attention to the ridge just beneath where the head of his cock meets the shaft, knowing the extra sensitivity there.

As you continued to stroke and suck, Seokjin's eyes remained locked on yours, besides when he'd occasionally draw his head back in rawr pleasure. His hands rested on your head, gently guiding the pace but letting you set the rhythm. The sensation of his fingers in your hair, combined with the taste and feel of him in your mouth, was incredibly erotic.

You could feel his excitement building, his breathing getting heavier, and his muscles tensing under your touch. Encouraged by his reactions, you deepened the suction slightly, moving your head in a steady bobbing motion while your hand continued to stroke the base of his shaft.

Seokjin's moans filled the air, soft at first but growing louder as he neared climax. His hands tightened in your hair, not pulling but applying gentle pressure as if urging you on without wanting to disrupt the perfect rhythm you'd established.

Just as it seemed like he was about to come, Seokjin suddenly pulled back, his chest heaving with exertion. "Not yet," he whispered hoarsely, "I want to come inside you."

He gently helped you up from your knees and led you back to the couch. This time, as he sat down, he pulled you onto his lap so that you were straddling him. The position was intimate and vulnerable at the same time.

With deft hands, Seokjin guided himself into you, filling a void that had been aching for fulfillment since this encounter began. As he entered deeper into you, your warmth enveloped around him fully. Everything else faded away, leaving only the sensations between two people completely lost within another.

The movement started slow but was soon quickened, as he grew more desperate. The two of you lost track of the time or your surroundings, solely existing in the moment of moving bodies seeking release.

As the movements became more rhythmic and intense, the connection between you and Seokjin deepened. Every thrust, every sensation, seemed to be amplified.

Your hands were on his shoulders, his around your waist, holding you close as you moved together. Seokjin's eyes locked onto yours, filled with raw desire. Yet, there was also a tenderness there, a care that made this feel like more than just a physical act. It was as if he was seeing into your very soul, and you into his.

The pace quickened, the intensity building until it felt like everything was going to shatter apart at any moment. But instead of fear or anxiety, there was only anticipation - a desperate longing for that release.

And then, in an instant that seemed to stretch out forever, it happened. Seokjin's body tensed beneath yours, his muscles hardening as he came inside you. The sensation triggered your own climax, waves of pleasure crashing over you like a stormy sea.

For what felt like an eternity, you just sat there, wrapped in each other's arms as the aftershocks of pleasure continued to ripple through your bodies. It wasn't until your breathing began to slow that reality started seeping back in - the feel of the couch beneath you, the sound of your heartbeats slowly synchronizing back into separate rhythms.

Seokjin's arms loosened their hold on you slightly but didn't let go. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed your forehead softly before whispering against your skin.

"Looks like all our hard work paid off. Congrats on passing, beautiful."

a/n: wahoo! feel free to leave feedback, hope you all enjoyed!

masterlist

[threebea]

The Jedi should have done something about Tatooine and the Hutts. If only they sent Jedi to Tatooine and not just ignored it--

Oh hi Quinlan. How's Tatooine circa TPM?

Anyway the Jedi should have done something about slavery in the galaxy outside the Republic's borders and not focused just on the Republic--

Huh. The CIS were pretty cool with helping the Zygerrians reestablish their slave empire that the (checks notes) Jedi dismantled.

Anyway, the Jedi should never have joined the war at all. Sure the clone army existed and the clones would have to fight no matter what the Jedi decided to do, and yes, as far as the Jedi knew the clones were created by one of their order and so they had a responsibility to them in whatever capacity they could, and the clones being brainwashed into loyalty for the republic was established so convincing millions of them at once not to fight would be impossible that early on. And sure, Dooku, a Sith, led the galaxy's worst capitalists that wanted to make naboo look like child's play and kill countless civilians if the Republic didn't give in to all their demands, and yes the Jedi were linked psychically to the cosmos in a way where they could feel imbalance, death, and darkness, but they should have taken the moral high road and (checks notes) let both civilians and clones die from droids. Droids who are programmed and aren't going to hesitate about killing anyone. Droids who can't be negotiated with.

Of course they could have... Negotiated with the Sith Lord? Who wasn't actually the head sithlord in charge.

Then again the other Sith Lord who had been duly elected into office wouldn't have allowed that but...they should have tried!

Well they worked with hutts to use hyperlanes for the war they could have chosen not to fight in had actually tried harder! They were lazy and chose the easy path of being forced to dirty their hands because otherwise fascist billionaires and corporations would send programmed droids to kill civilians (like Naboo during TPM) until the Republic gave into their demands (unbridled capitalism which as we recall were totally cool with helping the Slave Empire they previously dismantled become a slave empire again).

The Jedi should have helped people and not tied themselves to the senate. They could have just negotiated with a galaxy worth of planets on a case by case basis.

Listen. Star Wars is a metaphor. It is not a one to one comparison of reality. The Jedi did all they could to help people and they did things that wore them down in body and soul because they had to make that sacrifice or let people suffer and die. There is no alternative in the galaxy they existed in. The Empire that Palpatine made is what they saw the CIS becoming.

Palpatine saw the Jedi as one of the biggest threats to his fascist empire so the plan was always to kill them. It's not illegal to be a Sith he might say, but he certainly made it illegal to be a Jedi.

I would love to know what people think, with the GFFA being what it is, and the size it is, and the Jedi numbering about ten thousand in the end what they were supposed to do as an alternative that would have had any of this end different.

If they hadn't joined the war people would have been enslaved and died and the Jedi would have still been hunted and killed.

If the Jedi removed themselves from the republic in protest of the war but still fought independently to help people they would have lost so much access, more clones for sure would have died, and the Jedi would still be hunted down and killed at the end.

If the Jedi left the republic before the war and were independents they would be slaughtered faster than they were on genonosis because they don't have the numbers. The droid army would get them or the republic run by Palpatine would get them. Keeping in mind Palpatine was elected and the Jedi had nothing to do with his election beyond saving a teenage girl and bringing her to beg her case to the senate on behalf of her people (the death toll was, as we remember, catastrophic).

If they retreated to the mountains and meditated then they just let people die without even trying to help and feel the cosmos become darker and more imbalanced by the suffering they could feel but we're ignoring. And years later Palpatine would show up to kill them because that aspect of his plan would never change.

They should have taken the moral high ground doesn't work in the scenario they were given in the universe they existed in. Not for them. Not when they are powered by empathy. It would have been a corruption of what they stand for if they didn't try to help people. And they tried. It wasn't their corruption that let the galaxy down. The Jedi were aware of their own flaws. They were aware they shouldn't be generals. They knew they shouldn't be commanding a clone army. They were under no illusions that the choices they were being forced to make were good, but even at their most morally questionable they didn't sell out the galaxy. It was the politicians that voted in a mass murdering fascist with thunderous applause to not just be supreme chancellor, to not just have emergency powers, but to be an emperor.

The Jedi even tried a coup. The last thing they would want, but they tried it anyway to hold back a Sith Emperor establishing his empire built on slavery and suffering who would later build a weapon that could destroy entire planets.

The Jedi did not lead to the downfall of the Republic. They were the last shield to be shattered.

[serveandchoke]

Message In a Bottle

Jannik Sinner x Reader

Synopsis: You ever send someone a message at 2am and wonder if it actually landed somewhere? This is that — long-distance tension, bad timing, soft yearning, and the one person you can’t stop thinking about no matter what timezone you’re in. Just two people throwing feelings into the universe and hoping the other catches it.

A/N: Hey guys! I'm reallyyyyyy sorry for not writing and publishing! College's been taking up all my time, and I was lucky enough to have the rarity of getting free time so I could write this small fic. I have a few ones in the works, so yeah look out for that one. ♡♡

The thing is — she never meant to fall for him.

Not really. Not like this.

It started harmlessly. A conversation at an event. A shared laugh over the same stupid meme. A follow-back. A couple of DMs. Nothing serious.

But somehow, "nothing serious" turned into late-night FaceTimes. Turned into missing each other’s texts. Turned into looking at the sky in two different countries at the same time, wondering if he was doing the same.

And now, she’s sitting at her kitchen table, staring at her phone, pretending she doesn’t want to text him first.

Because it’s been three days. Not that she’s counting.

(But she’s totally counting.)

--

Jannik’s on the other side of the world — literally. Somewhere between press, practice, and pretending to sleep on a plane again. He’s been running on caffeine and adrenaline, earbuds in, hood up, zoned out to music he can’t even hear.

He’s been trying not to think about her. Not because he doesn’t want to — but because it’s getting harder not to.

It’s stupid, how fast it all happened. How easy it felt. How the second he met her, something in him just… clicked.

She was all fire and charm, didn’t try to impress him, didn’t ask for photos or act like she cared that he was that guy. She just handed him a drink and said, “You looked like you needed this.” And honestly, He did.

And now, weeks later, he’s opening his phone mid-layover, scrolling up on their chat thread just to reread the old stuff.

She hasn’t texted first in days, which means he’s probably next up.

He types:

this airport is so cold it’s actually illegal

Then deletes it.

Types again:

why do all sandwiches in europe taste like regret

Deletes that too.

Jesus. What is he even doing?

---

She’s doing the same thing — hovering over her keyboard, staring at a half-written message:

I walked by a guy who smelled like your cologne and now I hate everyone else

Too much. She deletes it.

Instead she types:

hey, are you alive?

or did you marry your physio and forget to tell me

She hits send before she can overthink it. Then immediately tosses her phone across the couch like it’s cursed. Fuck.

---

He sees the message while boarding the plane.

Smiles. Actually smiles. His physio side-eyes him like he knows something.

He replies:

yes, he proposed. i'm sorry you had to find out like this.

And she fires back:

wow. not even a voice note? fake husband.

The banter slips right back into place. Easy. Familiar. Like no time passed. Like they’re right back in that weird little space between something and not quite.

And Jannik thinks: god, I miss her.

---

Weeks go by like this. Back and forth. Messages in different time zones. Snapshots of whatever city he’s in. Voice notes of her rambling while walking home from work. He saves the ones where she laughs without realizing it. And then, finally–

He has a break. Not long. Just enough.

So he books the flight. Doesn’t even tell her. Just shows up in her city, texting:

any chance you’re home tonight?

She’s confused. Texts back:

yeah?? why

And then her doorbell rings. She opens it, and he’s standing there — hoodie up, hair messy, suitcase by his side. Looking tired. And annoyingly perfect. He grins.

“Hey.”

She just stares for a second. Then hits him in the arm.

“What are you doing here?!”

“I was gonna ask if you had dinner plans,” he shrugs. “But I’ll also accept being physically assaulted.”

She’s still blinking, like she doesn’t believe he’s real.

Then: “You’re seriously here? Just like that?”

He nods. “Just like that.”

She pulls him in — into the apartment, into a hug, into whatever this thing is between them that neither of them wants to label but both of them feel.

And as he wraps his arms around her, tucking his chin into her shoulder, he says it — not loudly. Not dramatically. Just enough.

“I kept thinking about you.”

She breathes in his scent. It's familiar, and it's real. It was an addiction.

Warm and kind of overwhelming in the best way.

“Me too,” she whispers.

Because for weeks they’d both been tossing words into the void. Hoping the other would catch them. Hoping timing wouldn’t win.

And now, it feels like the bottle finally washed ashore.

Exactly where it was supposed to.

[puppetwoman17]

Imagine if the JL ever need to get passage into Hell, whether it’s to get something or pass through to get somewhere else. They call in Constantine and he’s got a bunch of backwater ways and tunnels and all around illegal ways to access Hell.

Billy just laughs and tells them that he knows a perfectly legal, easy way to get in that won’t leave them in debt. Everyone’s not sure, but they tell him to give it a go.

So Billy takes out his phone and goes to a certain number.

And Constantine hears the voice on the other side and nearly faints because WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK THAT IS SATANUS.

The JL ask if he’s okay and he vehemently says no and explains how he just heard one of the lords of hell himself on the other line. Everyone is confused at this point because it sounds like he’s talking to an old friend.

That’s when Clark uses his hearing and by Rao he’s right! There’s a deep voice on the other end that he recognizes. Lord Satanus himself is talking to Billy about setting up another luncheon for next month with him, Mary, and Freddy. And Billy at his end looks totally unnerved by this.

Once the call ends, Billy says they’re ready to go and to wait ten minutes.

Literally everyone has questions. Billy just rolls his eyes and says “oh nothing, it’s just my uncle.”

See, now everyone has even MORE questions.

[writesvani]

coming down | teaser

collegestudent! gojo x collegestudent! reader

SUMMARY: You and Gojo Satoru were once everything to each other, but now, the space between you is filled with nothing but silence and resentment. College is just a reminder of how far you’ve drifted apart, and every encounter only adds fuel to the fire.

You avoid him like the plague, but it doesn’t matter. You can still feel him in the shadows, always there, always watching, as if the past was never really gone. So what do you do? You (try to) keep your distance, pretending it’s easy to forget the history that’s weighed you down for so long.

But deep down, neither of you can let go. And as the tension between you grows, you’re forced to confront the truth: some things are never truly buried, no matter how hard you try.

best friends-to-friends with benefits-to-enemies-to- enemies with benefits-to?

TWs (for this chapter): underage use of marijuana and cigars, underage drinking, use of illegal substances, anorexia and obsessive dieting, calorie deficit, mentions of self-destructive behavior, angst, emotional manipulation and trauma, toxic friendship dynamics, self-esteem issues and body image, unresolved romantic tension, past betrayal and unrequited love, sexual harassment (implied in some interactions), foul language and explicit content, derogatory language, including use of "puss" and other insults, toxic romantic relationships and behavior, references to manipulation and control in relationships, most characters are morally gray, flawed, and engage in problematic behavior, complex, imperfect characters who make questionable decisions, characters often act in ways that challenge traditional moral boundaries and ethics. 

THESE CHARACTERS ARE NOT MEANT TO BE PERFECT AND IDOLIZED.

comment here for Coming Down taglist;

SERIES M.LIST

— next chapter

wc: 2,4k // date: 4th of March 2025

TEASER — Wicked Games; proceed with caution...

AN: OKAY OKAY OKAY WOW HERE SHE IS. i don’t know what the hell I’m writing - i mean i do but i don’t if that makes sense - this, this fanfic is literally gonna be my baby. it’s inspired by a lot of people i know, it’s partly inspired by my life as well - not gonna tell you which bits of it tho haha. but i’m so excited. honestly this isn’t even chapter one - i’m thinking more of it as a teaser for what’s about to come and when i tell you a lot is coming you better believe it. but this is going to be a part of me - something raw and something real and i know this won’t be an easy read - as you can see by the triggers but i truly, really hope you guys will like it as much as I enjoy writing it. because i’m obsessed. i just got sucked in by y/n and gojo’s dynamic of hatred and toxicity, they’re on my mind 24/7.

i love them.

i hate them.

i wanna be them and i’d hate it if i ended up becoming them at the same time.

love, vani 🩷

"No, I’m not going."

"Yes, you totally are."

"No, I’m not, Yumi. I’m dead serious."

"Y/n, for the love of Christ, I love you, but if you don’t stop bitching about it right now, there will be consequences. Now, get your ass up and get ready," Yumi huffed, arms crossed.

You narrowed your eyes before rolling them—more dramatically than you intended. Not your most mature moment, but being forced to go to that party, in that house, didn’t exactly put you in a good mood.

"Look, Yu, I don’t care about that stupid party your—what’s his name again?—boyfriend is throwing for us. Truthfully, I’d rather be buried alive in that creepy graveyard we smoke pot in. Alone. No pot. You get my point."

"His name is Nanami," she deadpanned. "And he’s throwing us a party for our birthday, which we share. It’s not like I have the option to skip it, you know. Besides, we always celebrate our birthday together."

Yumi’s voice softened as she tilted her head, giving you that look—the one she knew you couldn’t resist. "Please, please, please. Let’s just go, smoke some weed, listen to those weird-ass tunes you play when you get too baked, wait for midnight, blow out the candles, and leave. Bonus points if Nanami fucks me tonight."

She smirked before adding, "Plus, Gojo’s gonna be there, and everyone knows about your little crush on him."

You scowled. As if that could make this stupid party any better.

But again… she wasn’t wrong.

Somehow, in the middle of a crowded classroom filled with acne-scarred faces and nervous energy, you and Yumi ended up sitting together. two total strangers. two tangled-up disasters shoved into plastic chairs, thrown together by sheer chance or some kind of cosmic joke.

She was tall and slim, chain-smoking weird American cigars in the school’s piss-scented bathroom stalls during five-minute breaks.

You liked her immediately.

She liked cigs.

You liked pot.

She liked Arctic Monkeys or any other type of music that ended up overplayed by overdramatic tumblr girls at midnight.

You listened to Trilogy like it was gospel.

She didn’t give a shit about school. Skipped class constantly to drink cheap coffee at some run-down café that reeked of nargila and regret.

You somehow pulled good grades—yet skipped with her anyway, so she wouldn’t feel lonely.

And then, the kicker.

You shared the same birthday.

Same day. Same year. Two hours apart. What were the odds? Some kind of cruel cosmic irony, maybe. A glitch in the universe where it spat out two unhinged messes at the same time, doomed to find each other.

You weren’t sure.

All you knew was that Yumi was fucked up.

She didn’t eat. Didn’t sleep. Just smoked.

Cigs and all.

Pot and all.

You, on the other hand, slept too much. Ate just enough—tracking every bite to make sure it fit inside your carefully calculated calorie deficit, of course.

And yeah, you were fucked up too.

But at least you weren’t alone.

You were fucked up together, and somehow, that made perfect sense.

And now, after years of being two walking disasters—two mistakes of nature (and probably your parents' biggest regrets)—you are finally in college.

What you didn’t expect was Yumi getting a boyfriend. And sticking to him. Yumi didn’t do relationships. they were too much, she once told you.

Too heavy.

You understood. Why let anyone waste their time trying to fix something that wasn’t fixable? Why let anyone peel back the layers when there was nothing to find? no deep-seated trauma, no unspeakable tragedy, no emotional constipation. just plain, old you—coasting through life on gold marlboro touch and iceberg salad.

You assumed Yumi felt the same. you used to get each other.

But now? Yumi had a boyfriend. And not just any boyfriend—some weirdly handsome senior that got every girl on campus tripping over themselves. A guy who, for some unknown reason, had decided to settle down with the second-year that half the school had definitely jacked off to.

And you?

You were still there, of course.

“You know what? Fine,” you finally huffed, shoving your hands in your pockets. “We’re going. But—” you held up a finger, “The shit he’s getting better be good or i’m out. And—” another finger, “Btw, how is The Weeknd ‘weird girl’ music? The best music to get high is literally from an artist who made it while high. like, really?”

Yumi just raised an eyebrow, already knowing she’d won.

“And—” your third and final finger shot up—“One condition. No Gojo. Np looking at him, no talking about him, and god forbid, talking to him, okay?”

Yumi grinned like the little devil she was. She knew she had you.

And she loved it.

You’re going. and somehow, somehow, you already know Yumi’s going to break the Gojo rule. And you already hate yourself for saying yes.

Gojo, Gojo, Gojo. That foxy, smirking little minx you’ve somehow tucked away in a small, stupid pocket of your heart. Nanami's best friend.

Stupid hot and wicked smart.

One look from Gojo Satoru and half the campus is already on their knees, mouths open, waiting for the tip to slide in. one touch, and you’re pretty sure girls would be cumming fully clothed.

Truthfully? You get it.

Gojo has that whole walking sexual fantasy turned nonchalant icy prince thing going for him. you would’ve hitched your skirt up and let him fuck you senseless too—if he asked.

Would’ve.

But Gojo Satoru did something no other man had ever dared to do.

He bruised your ego.

You’d never admit it, of course. Not out loud. Not even to yourself. But the way his offhanded you’re not my type had clutched at your chest, had sunk deep into the tenderest, most pathetic part of you—yeah. It stung.

Who the hell was he to say you weren’t his type?

Yes, fine, he was hot. Really, really hot.

But so were you.

You’ve got that thing going for you—the great student, everyone loves me act, while secretly (well, not so secretly, except to your oblivious teachers) getting high and fucking emotionally unavailable men on the weekends.

Your favorite trope, honestly.

You’ve got those pretty—as guys love to say—puppy eyes and that lethal eyelashes combo that makes people practically eat from the palm of your hand.

So why the hell would he say you weren’t his type?

For fuck’s sake, Gojo Satoru fucks anything with two legs and a vagina.

And the cherry on top? He didn't even say it to your face. No, he just let those humiliating little words slip at some party you weren’t even at.

Thank god for that. You’re pretty sure you would’ve died right then and there if you had to hear those ridiculous words fall from his pretty pink lips in real time.

But of course, Yumi—your second-in-command, your ever-dutiful bringer of bad news—had called you immediately.

Campus sex god gojo satoru, not finding you attractive enough?

The scandal.

To make things even worse, you’re pretty sure everyone knows you’d totally give it to Gojo Satoru.

You may have drunkenly admitted it—once, before the whole “not his type” fiasco—to some random girl in a club bathroom who smelled way too much like puke and way too little like vanilla.

And of course, of fucking course, the gossip spread through campus like wildfire before you could even try to kill it.

So yeah. going to your own birthday party?

Humiliating.

Annoying.

Absolutely a horrible idea.

But still… there’s this slow burn inside of you, this creeping anticipation.

The kind that tells you tonight might just be interesting.

And a little drama never hurt anyone, right?

…Right?

—

Nanami's house is not what you expected.

You don’t even know what you expected, but definitely not this.

Yumi did mention he doesn’t live on campus—he’s one of those guys, apparently. Still lives with his parents or something.

Lame. Booo. Throwing tomatoes.

Because seriously—what twenty-something man still lives with his parents?

But you definitely didn’t expect nanami’s house to be this posh.

Or this proper.

Or this… fucking expensive.

Because, what the actual fuck—nanami is rich.

Like, could-buy-you-off-the-dark-web rich.

Probably in exchange for the mahogany table you’re currently pouring tequila shots on.

Or maybe just for that obnoxiously huge, icy couch stretching across the living room.

or, hell, even for his kitchen alone.

What. The. Fuck.

But then—on that same absurdly expensive couch—something else catches your eye.

Legs sprawled out in the kind of lazy man-spread that screams confidence, scrolling through his phone like he owns the place, is a man.

Dark.

Tall.

And very, very hot.

Something dark and thrilling rushes through you at the thought of dragging him into Nanami’s parents’ bedroom and riding him until he can’t take it anymore.

But before you can act on it—

“Geto Suguru.”

Yumi’s voice is in your ear, a warning.

“He has a girlfriend, so don’t even try.”

Her fingers tug at your elbow. You retaliate immediately, poking her ribs in response.

He looks up.

His shadowy eyes roam over you—slow, deliberate.

A half-smile, half-smirk tugs at his lips.

Ha.

There he is.

Good boy.

He wants it.

He wants you.

"Well, I don’t see her here, do I?"

Your voice is a whisper, teasing, as you throw a smirk at Yumi before stepping forward—gracefully, leg before leg, closing the space between you and him.

He’s still sitting.

You don’t even have to look at his face to know he’s already watching you.

Slowly, your eyes travel downward.

The soft material of his white polo stretches taut over the sculpted lines of his stomach, the fabric clinging in all the right places. Your gaze lingers, just a second too long, before moving up—finally settling on his lips.

For a moment, there’s silence.

Then, just as the tension starts to settle, he shifts—fumbling with the left pocket of his jeans.

You blink.

…Okay.

Not so hot anymore.

What the hell is he doing?

But then—

but then—

he pulls something out.

A white tissue—crumpled, worn.

You almost scoff, about to ask if this is some weird, half-assed magic trick—until you see it.

Tiny specks of green peek through the folds.

Your breath catches.

Weed.

A lot of weed.

Holy fucking shit.

You swear your mouth waters.

It’s tucked inside that questionably old tissue—and you pray, dear God, that he didn’t blow his nose in it.

Then, in that slow, deep voice—smooth like velvet, laced with a promise—he finally speaks.

"Five grams. Homemade."

He speaks for the first time, and in that moment, you're absolutely sure you're about to get high off his pot—and then, well, he's going to be the one getting high off you.

"Heard you smoke. Thought you’d want to."

Geto’s voice is low, his words soft, but the way his arm brushes your hip bone—effortlessly, casually—sends a spark through your veins.

Some might say it’s a coincidence.

But you know better.

Nothing, nothing, is ever a coincidence when it comes to men like him.

And now, now, you want it even more.

Before you can say anything, someone else interrupts.

“Yo, Suguru, I’ve been watching you all night, man. Why the fuck you sitting in the living room like some NPC loser?”

You scoff, catching the teasing tone of the voice.

"Satoru, you’re stepping on my last nerve again. Let me chill for a bit. I wanna mentally prepare before rolling with all you incompetent losers," Geto responds, his voice still calm, but there's a hidden edge to it that makes you think he doesn't mind the banter.

"There, there, boy. I just missed my best friend so much I had to see why you left the billiard room, you know? Just love spending time with you, bestie."

"You know, licking my ass won’t make me give you some of this before I try it myself. Plus, I’ve got company, as you can see." Geto’s voice drips with annoyance, cutting through the otherwise tense air in Nanami’s living room.

You don’t need to turn around to know exactly who’s standing behind you. His presence is undeniable, his scent suffocating in the best way, and that energy—God, that energy—that pulses in any room he steps into.

And then, of course, there’s the voice. That annoyingly attractive, rough drawl that always gets under your skin.

“I can see that, but I still don’t approve of you ditching your homies for some cheap pussy,” Gojo says, the mockery clear in his voice.

And that’s when you finally, finally, decide to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

What the fuck?

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

Sure, being told you weren’t his type stung—but this? Calling you cheap? Who the hell does this guy think he is? What gives him the audacity to insult you to your face—well, more like to your back, but still, it stings all the same.

A chuckle rumbles through the room. You don’t stop yourself in time. You hear your own voice, but it doesn’t feel like yours anymore.

How dare he. After everything—after all the hurt he’s caused you.

Again. And again.

You tell yourself it doesn’t bother you, yet the words slip out before you even realize what’s happening.

As if you could have stopped them. As if you could have ever stopped anything with him.

After all, Gojo Satoru always had a knack for pushing your buttons exactly the way he wanted.

“Cheap, but could make your dick hard by one high school kiss in your mom’s closet. Could make you whimper out my name in your favorite teacher’s classroom. Could make you cum down your uniform just by biting your lip. We’re a little past being cheap, don’t you think Sato?” 

Because before all of this—before the "not his type" catastrophe, and your drunken confessions—there was you.

And there was Gojo.

Best friends since birth. A bond that was never supposed to break. But then came senior year—the year everything changed.

You made a mistake. The terrible, stupid, earth-shattering mistake of letting things blur into something more. You slept together. Multiple times. You told yourself it was just a phase. Just a mistake. But deep down, you both knew it was more than that.

But no. There was an even worse mistake than all of this.

Falling in love.

And then, the biggest tragedy of all: letting each other down.

You weren’t supposed to end up here. But somehow, here you are. Caught in the wreckage of a love that never really had a chance.

[rannie-moon]

https://www.tumblr.com/enhypendata/783799400065630208/jungwon-desire-unleash-concept-photo-make-ver?source=share

this is insane. I just know heran is jumping his bones.

bro I'm about to jump his bones...

but if that's me then you know heran is multiplying that TEN FOLD!! definitely wasn't able to focus on her own shoot because she was too distracted by him (she's a simp like that). ALEXA PLAY JUNO BY SABRINA CARPENTER!!!

It was supposed to be easy—if anything it was the easiest part of their job. stand in front of the camera, follow instructions, and pose. but it was anything but easy when your boyfriend had the same job—walking around during your shots looking hotter than... god heran didn't even know.

her eyes were fixed on him entirely, the shimmer of something brighter behind the lenses of her glasses. she didn’t even realise how long she’d been staring until her thigh collided—painfully—with the sharp corner of the cold steel table she was supposed to be posing next to.

a sharp clink echoed through the studio.

“are you okay?” the director’s voice called out, half concerned but mostly fighting off a laugh at her full-body jolt and tiny yelp. he watched with amusement as heran dramatically turned to glare at the table like it had personally disrespected her entire bloodline, wiping off an invisible speck of lint on her pants like it was the table’s fault she was down bad.

"okay, you good to get on the table?"

"yup," she said way too quickly. "yup. definitely. totally professional. not at all distracted—" her words died mid-sentence because jungwon had just leaned against the wall across from her, arms crossed, still in his concept outfit—black harness, mesh gloves, that ridiculous chain around his neck like he was trying to kill her with just his existence.

the smile he gave her? Illegal. arrest-worthy.

she inhaled through her nose. "this is gonna be a long day."

heran climbed onto the table, fixed her pose like she was told, stared right into the lens, and whispered under her breath, "god, I'm gonna have to repent after this shoot."

the solo shots wrapped, but heran’s internal crisis? ongoing. unresolved. borderline spiritual.

because now it was time for the group shots. which meant standing next to him. him as in jungwon. jungwon as in her boyfriend. jungwon as in the man currently fixing his sleeves with the rolled-up menace of someone who knew exactly what he was doing to her blood pressure.

“heran, stand next to jungwon,” the director called out casually, like he wasn’t orchestrating her downfall in 4K.

she moved into position, trying to keep her face neutral—chill, effortless, professional. but then he shifted slightly, so their shoulders brushed, and that was it. she was spiraling. girl math was mathing and it equaled death by proximity.

he turned his head toward her and tilted it just a little. “you okay?”

“huh? me? yeah. totally. fine. normal.” heran was blinking a bit too fast, gripping the chain hanging off her hip like it was a stress ball.

he gave her a funny look. “you’re breathing like we just ran laps.”

“I’m fine.”

“you look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’m not—passing out! I’m—resting my eyes. while open. for fashion purposes.”

he stared.

she turned her face forward again, jaw clenched. “don’t look at me.”

“you’re literally shaking.”

“It’s cold.”

“we’re inside.”

“exactly.”

the camera flashed.

“alright,” the photographer said, “let’s do a couple with jungwon and heran alone.”

heran: 😐

jungwon: 😏

If she made it through the next thirty seconds without combusting, it would be nothing short of a miracle. maybe even a canon event.

taglist: @angie-x3@deluluscenarios @chaeryyeongz @akitoshi39i@sparklydoll444 @yunjiiin @kaitieskidmore97 @yb763@reibelhearts @enhaverse713586

[bots-and-cons]

How about knockout secretly becoming friends with reader who is under autobot protection?

A/N: I’ve got these HCs about Knockout’s s/o being under autobot protection. This is a bit of a different thing though, and I thought it was different enough to warrant its own post. These ended up kinda long, because I got invested, lol

•You and Knockout met by total accident, when a few off your friends had dragged you to watch an illegal street racing competition

•You had snuck out without telling the bots so they didn’t know where you were, hence none of them were there to stop you from being a bit reckless and having a good time

•Your friends wanted pictures with the cars and when you got close to Knockout, you noticed the small-ish decepticon insignia

•You of course tried to get your friends away from him, because who knows what he might do if he recognized you as one the autobot’s charges

•Knockout honestly hadn’t been paying much attention to what any of the humans who were under the autobot’s protection looked like, so he didn’t realize who you were right away

•Your friends wanted to take a couple of pictures despite your protests

•Knockout of course told them “Watch the paint job, I don’t want any scratches” as they leaned against him to take the pics

•Your friends thought it was just the driver saying it from inside the car, but you knew otherwise

•Your friends went away to the next car, but you marched up to Knockout’s driver side window and started talking to him

•”Why are you here?” you asked him

•”To race, obviously. Why else?” he scoffed

•That’s when he took a better look at you, because you were obviously talking to him like you knew him

•”Oh, you’re one of the autobot’s pets” you could basically hear the smirk in his voice

•”I’m not anyone’s pet you idiot, they’re my friends” you retorted

•Knockout found himself enjoying your banter, but the friend comment made him somewhat jealous, he couldn’t really call any of the decepticons his friends, except for Breakdown

•That’s basically where your friendship begun, you talked for quite a while and before you realized, your friends had left and so had your ride

•”Dammit, I’m gonna have to walk home” you muttered as the crowd kept thinning

•You didn’t know anyone else there, and your friends had left you there, so you started walking

•Knockout didn’t really say anything as you left, but a couple of minutes later, he realized it was quite cold outside and human’s don’t handle it very well or at least that’s what he’d understood

•He didn’t want you to die because of the cold, because that would just invite retribution from the autobots

•It actually wasn’t that cold, but you did live on the other side of town, so you had quite a long way to go

•Knockout didn’t know where you lived, but he drove after you and offered you a ride

•”So you can kidnap me and take me to the Nemesis? No thanks” you told him as he drove slowly next to you

•”I’m not going to kidnap you. I’m just not giddy at the thought of you dying in the cold and us getting blamed for it”

•You stopped walking and considered it for a moment, you really didn’t feel like walking over 5km in the chilly weather, and it looked like it was about to start raining too

•”Fine, you can take me close, but I’m not telling you where I live” you sighed, and hopped into the passenger’s seat

•You gave him directions, as he talked about something or other

•Knockout tends to talk a lot when he’s nervous, so he just kept talking to you

•You laughed at some of his jokes and he also commented how your friends were kinda mean for leaving you there like that

•You couldn’t help but agree, and you started ranting about your friends and the idiotic things they did sometimes

•You didn’t understand why, but he was just so easy to talk to, and you didn’t need to hide your opinions/feelings about your friends from him or hear a lecture or anything like that

•You could just talk, and he would listen and also validate your feelings by telling you your friends were in fact assholes 

•Knockout stopped at the grocery store parking lot that you had guided him to, but even then you continued talking

•”I know this is probably a stupid thing to say, but thanks, I haven’t been able to vent like that in a long while”

•”No problem, it was nice for me too” Knockout admitted

•He had talked about what an aft Megatron was and how badly Starscream treated him, but it was kind of funny how the inner workings of the decepticon leadership reminded you of a high school mean girls clique or something

•You told Knockout you weren’t going to mention this to the autobots, because you didn’t want a lecture and there really wasn’t anything to tell, he hadn’t done anything bad

•Knockout decided to leave you his comm link number (idk how it would work, but I decided it’s like a phone) so you could contact him if you wanted to

•You wrote it down on the notes on your phone and hopped out

•He could see you waving in the rearview mirror as you walked away

•It was the start of a rather odd friendship, which was not without its problems, but you grew to be good friends and confidants

•Of course you had to keep the whole thing hidden from the autobots, the same way Knockout couldn’t tell any of the cons

[spacemonkeysalsa]

Little rant, take the trigger warnings seriously.

For the most part I think it's really good to have some perspective, and allow others people to be wrong about video games on the internet without letting it affect me. But sometimes there's just a needling little thing that repeatedly bothers me, and it's usually because there's a real world analogue that I can't forget about. Something that is more important than video games.

As an example, I get more upset than is rational about the "Astarion is actually so evil" takes, because they generally come down to a handful of arguments I have heard before, but in real life, about real people. And when I say I have heard them in real life, I mean in the context of legal arguments about whether or not to prosecute people who have been trafficked for their participation in human trafficking. Additional context is that I am an atty and have a broad exposure to different areas of law.

What a lot of people don't appreciate about human trafficking is that it is incredibly common for people who have been trafficked to be put into a position where they must participate in illegal, and abusive, acts against others. One reason why this is done is because it makes it that much riskier for them to go to the authorities, creating a heavy incentive to not do that. To never ask for help.

You can be a plaintiff in one case and a defendant in another. Duress and coercion could be considered, but it's just not always what happens. Jurisdiction matters, culture matters. But regardless of all that, it doesn't often get to a legal phase in the first place because it's very easy to convince victims of human trafficking that they are just as culpable, because they have helped to traffic others, and that the duress they are under will not be considered. And like. They are often right about that, unfortunately.

Idk for sure how much research was done when they were writing Astarion's character, but this aspect of his story stood out to me because it's so rarely depicted (and then isn't depicted well) in media. I can name you several bad examples, but few good ones. Even being translated into high fantasy, and with magical compulsion and effing vampires, this element of Astarion's story, and how acclimation to cruelty has shaped his personality is not remotely subtle.

Maybe even especially with the supernatural elements, it helps, because it takes away some of the ambiguity that people argue about in a court of law irl. And I think it takes a side in that ongoing legal debate, by emphasizing his total lack of autonomy.

[sourpatchys]

My personal Headcannons for Daryl Dixon that I will defend with my life

Just a warning! there is some nsfw❤️‍🔥 content in this list (not a ton)

This is a list full of random Headcannons I have, some are xreader related, some are just fun little things I’d like to believe because they’re fun

He l o v e s head scratches and chin scratches, just like a dog, his mom used to do it to him as a kid, it’s just really comforting to him

He is 100% dyslexic, he’s super insecure about it, which is why he leaves reading and writing up to anyone else who’s willing to do it.

This dude is secretly a math wiz. It came super easy to him, but he does tend to keep it on the down low because it was never something he was allowed to be proud of as a child, and it’s not really a needed skill anymore

I personally do not believe Daryl did anything hard while running around with Merle, Shrooms and weed were his limit 99.99% of the time, unless he felt pressured, but even then it would take a lot of convincing

He’s very self conscious about how thick his accent can get, he grew up in a much more rural area than the rest of Rick and Co. (apart from Maggie of course) and he feels out of place with his speech patterns at times.

Daryl was definitely a highschool drop out, assuming his birthday is January 6th, he left as soon as he was old enough to do it without a parent’s consent (18)

I just know this man never got his license. Can you imagine him paying his way through classes and taking a drivers test? I can’t. He probably just got a state ID for booze and just drove around illegally (if he got an ID at all, I’m sure he knew quite a few places that didn’t card)

He runs hot, the cold is a lot easier for him to handle than the heat, which is why he tended to wear sleeveless shirts or half sleeves

He has never had a “crush” in his life. He’s thought people were hot before, of course he has, but romance was never really on his mind

He’s not a total virgin, but he’s not exactly skilled either. His body count is probably 3, and I guarantee you he was not sober before, during, or after.

He’s a thigh and breast man. Hands down.

I know deep in my soul that this man enjoys some face sitting.

He’s not an overly sexual guy, if you were asexual he’d be okay with never doing anything, so long as you were happy

If you’re nonbinary, he was definitely mean to you at the start, with the way he was raised it simply didn’t make any since to him, BUT once you get closer and he starts to trust you, he might (he will) start asking some questions to understand you better

He isn’t a pet name kinda guy. He’s completely on board with calling you sunshine or princess, but anything past that just isn’t for him, and he really isn’t a fan of you giving him one either, unless it’s just a joking matter like how Carol calls him “pookie” from time to time

He’s a morning person and he hates it. He always wakes up at the ass crack of dawn, and every time he wishes he hadn’t.

He is definitely an insomniac, likely derived from having night terrors as a kid

He’s definitely self conscious about his scars, but not enough to cause issues if anyone happened to see them, he isn’t ashamed of them, but he doesn’t want to explain where their from, and he genuinely hasn’t thought of a good enough lie to tell instead.

When rick saw them for the first time Daryl had him fully convinced he was in a fight with a bear for about a week (rick never asked for the real reason)

He has a heavy sweet tooth, and likes to keep hard candy with him at all times (if possible) and he has never, and will never, pass up chocolate in any form.

He genuinely has chicken scratch for handwriting, he does not plan on ever attempting to make it easier to read, he enjoys the struggle people face when he’s put in a position where he has to write anything down. (Plus it helps conceal his errors if they do figure it out)

He does genuinely want kids in his life. Even if they can’t be his biologically. Being “uncle Daryl” is the best feeling he’s ever experienced, and he really wants to experience that with you if you’d allow it/want it (he would never pressure you to have kids)

Headaches and migraines plague his existence and they always have

He had super long hair as a kid and one of his punishments was his dad shaving it all off, which is why he kept it short until after the outbreak.

He would let you paint his toenails, or match his middle finger with whatever polish you decided to wear

This dude HATES clowns. Seeing a walker in a clown get up would absolutely kill him on the inside

You got sick? Don’t worry about it, he will absolutely attempt to make you soup from scratch using bone marrow and whatever else he can find

Fishing is not his thing. He knows how to, but he much prefers just catching them by hand or with a spear.

The closer you two get, the more likely he is to try and convince you that Bigfoot is real

Daryl is a secret star wars fan

He does NOT like country music, Led Zeppelin, Rob zombie, Ozzy osbourne and Lamb of god are much more his thing

He wasn’t a technology kind of guy, so if you tried to explain any aspect of social media to him he’d be completely lost (he didn’t even have a cellphone)

He has a super dry sense of humor

If he had to choose between starving to death or eating plain Cheerios, he would choose death.

One of the reasons he isn’t big on showering is because he doesn’t have a strong immune system from his childhood neglect, and he doesn’t want to shock his body and get sick

He also just hates the way soap feels on his skin. It’s way too sticky

During sex, he’s not strictly dominant or submissive, he’s ready to adapt to whatever you want, even if that means being strictly vanilla

He’s afraid of Santa Clause

And the Easter bunny

He’s willing to try anything once, even if he doesn’t think he’ll like it

He knows a lot of information on plants and herbs, so depending on your mood, he’ll try to find a flower to brighten your day with a little scribbled note explaining its meaning (because you can actually read his atrocious writing)

He’s never once told you he loves you, and your relationship wasn’t a spoken fact. His actions tend to speak louder than words, and if you say you love him, he will occasionally reply with a “back at ya.” Or “me too”

He always has weird shit in his pockets, like cool rocks he found, dead flowers, and fallen leaves.

He genuinely does not understand a single thing that Eugene says, and he never has.

The first time he ever kisses you on his own (you 100% have to make the first move) it’s a very rough and embarrassed act where he just grabs you and plants one in ya before you can even think about what’s happening

He will change his favorite color to whatever yours is, because if you can see beauty in it, then it’s all he can see from then on out

[sploopyghost]

When Lila landed in Paris she had one goal in mind, avoid the akuma class. Ever since being reborn in this show and as Lila no less, she had plenty of time to think about this. While separately some of the class don't seem that bad it's when there all together is when it's too much. Whether it would be Chloe being her usual self or the girls coming up with stupid sometimes illegal plans for Marinette, she just knows that she'll be dragged into something unnecessary. So she convinced her mom to get her into someone else's class. If she's not in Bustier's class that already takes care of being forced to interact with them

It's been three months since she's transferred, so far everything's been great. She's made plenty of friends and is well liked by everyone. Some are fans who recognized her from her youtube channel. When she was reborn into this world she got curious about what kind of anime this world would have. Even though she misses the anime of her world she won't lie some of the anime here is actually really good. She remembered nerdcore from her world and decided to create her channel making songs and raps about the anime of this world. She quickly grew in popularity and might of accidently started a trend. It was when she was at a party when she noticed Marc and Nathaniel. She was shocked to see them there since they didn't seem like the type to come to this kind of party but they looked like they were having fun. She promised herself that she wouldn't get involved with the class but she decided to risk it since Nathaniel seemed to be the only one from the class who was here. It was worth it, unlike some in the class he was really chill and easy going, she guesses that's why he was invited

The next day at school she decided to ask her friends about the class. She noticed that the class were never involved with anything outside of their class other than Nathaniel. She learned that everyone called them the akuma class for obvious reasons and apparently everyone had the same thought as her, Separately the class isn't so bad but all together they're just too much. It doesn't help that if you invite one of them to something they end up bringing the rest of the class. There was a birthday party that one of the girls was throwing and she invited Rose. Unfortunately Rose brought the rest of the class with her when she came. She was fine with Juleka since the girl was nice when you talked to her but the rest of the class she wasn't sure of. She was right to have a bad feeling since the girls decide this was another opportunity to turn this into another scheme to get Marinette and Adrien together and Kim was being Kim. To sum it up the plan went wrong, things got knocked over, the cake was ruined, and the sprinklers activated cause something caught on fire. Her birthday was a total disaster and since that incident no one ever took the risk of inviting them again. Nathaniel is the exception to this because he's often forgotten by the rest of the class, which is kind of sad but he does have plenty of friends outside of the class and apparently he's dating Marc. Ok, she should have seen that one coming especially with the way they look at each other but in her defense in the show they don't meet until Marinette gets involved. But with Marc and Nathaniel sharing the same friends it was inevitable that they would meet

She doesn't know how this happened, one moment she was picking out a book from the library the next she runs into Adrien and ends up stuck in a conversation with him. It's not bad it's actually a pleasant conversation since they talk about their common interest. Still she wants to end this as fast as possible before anyone form the class see them and rope her into hanging out with them. But that all goes out the window when Adrien realizes who she was. Turns out Adrien loves anime and got into nerdcore because of it. The last thing she expected was for Adrien to be a fan of hers but here we are, now she knows there's no way he's going to let this go. But it's fine as long as she can keep their interactions to a minimum nothing will- and Marinette is behind a shelf freaking out and glaring at her. Great there goes her drama free school days

[kayharrisons]

Sirens in the beat of your heart [The Vandal x afab!Reader] [18+]

Summary: it's a run of the mill job. Get in, grab the diamonds, get out. It goes off without a hitch, you're on your way out.

Goes off without a hitch, that is, until you come across a vandal, right in the middle of your exit plan.

A/N: gang I'm back at it again with another Spike Fearn character fic 🧍‍♀️ and THIS ONE DON'T EVEN HAVE A NAME AHAHAHA HE'S JUST CREDITED AS THE VANDAL??? But y'know what, mystery makes it hotter right 👀 i know nothing ab Batman or DC btw I'm just here to write smut for the character 🧍‍♀️also I don't super write the dialect but I imagine he has a New Yorker accent! Since Gotham is inspired by NY and all from what I've read lol

Fic warnings: stealing, vandalism, public sex, sex with a stranger, vaginal fingering, name calling (slut, whore, etc), no protection (wrap it UP guys), the mask stays ON during sex, choking, threatening behaviour, reader is briefly scared by him but man is she horny ab it, american Spike 🧍‍♀️

It was too easy.

The diamonds are heavy in your wool coat's pocket, a comforting weight by your side, an indicator of a job well done.

A reminder that it was too fucking easy grabbing them tonight.

You're half expecting the caped crusader himself to pop out of the shadows and deck you for these ever so precious jewels.

Fucking vigilantes, man.

You're casual as you exit the Gala, completely fucking normal. You smile politely at strangers, engage in casual conversation when it's initiated. You're a goddamned pro at this, alright? You've yet to be caught, yet to be rumbled.

Which, in Gotham, feels like an achievement in itself.

You wait until you're fifteen minutes away, long gone from the venue, all things considered, before getting in contact with your boss to let him know the deed was done.

Piece of cake, right?

The smell of paint, of fumes, the sound of compressed air hissing...

You curse softly.

You're dressed to the nines, ladies dressed to the nines definitely don't walk down alleys like this.

Thieves like you, however, totally do.

"Someone's coming!"

"Fucking go, then!"

There's the sound of rapid footsteps, mercifully heading in the opposite direction to you. Would be real fucking awkward if they came your way after all.

"I'll call you back," you mutter to your boss, hanging up the call after he warns you to be careful. You wave him off, because you've been doing this gig since you were eleven, you know how to take care of yourself.

One lone man has stayed behind, his back to you as he adds the finishing touches to a rather artful insult towards Gotham P.D.

The little pig with a bat mask is a nice touch, in your opinion.

"That's illegal, you know." you sing song as you sidle past him, cocky, arrogant.

He drops the can in an instant, hand snapping out to grab your wrist. You tense, eyes flickering up the glove clad hand, up the black material of his jacket and...

He keeps a bandana on his face, the lower half completely covered by it. Stormy blue eyes glare at you, his forehead hidden by a beanie, by the hood pulled over it.

"What's it to you, anyway?" he asks, gruff, accent thick. Gotham native, definitely. The thick New Yorker accent isn't hard to miss.

"Concerned citizen and all," you say, trying your best to look unaffected by his tight grip, by the steely eyes.

You've always been a sucker for pretty eyes, and does this dude have em.

Ugh. You need to get laid.

"Right, sure thing, sweetheart," he taunts, smirk audible in his voice. "S'that why you're running around down here with all us lowlife criminals? Tryna keep us in check?"

"Jesus, man, never heard of a sarcastic remark?"

"Bet you've got em in spades, huh?" he asks wryly, eyes narrowing at you.

"Bucketfuls of em. Something, something, childhood trauma, coping mechanism. I'm sure you know how it is."

"Why the fuck would I-?"

"Normal, well adjusted dudes don't spraypaint pigs wearing bat cowls. Nice work, by the way. Very artful."

His grip tightens on your wrist at that, and he tugs you closer, his narrowed eyes scrutinising you from head to toe.

"Pretty girls like you don't belong in places like this, sweetheart." he informs you, gruffly, in such a way that it causes heat to pool deep in your belly.

Jesus christ, you seriously need to get dicked down.

"Maybe I do?" you shoot back, tugging your wrist free of his grip. "You don't know shit, dude-"

He shoves your back against the wall, keeping you pinned there by your throat. Your eyes widen, startled, a glimpse of terror shining in them.

That causes his grip to tighten around your throat, your breath stuttering at the action, your panties fucking flooding with arousal.

You need laid. You need to go to the fucking bar after this and get screwed so fucking good your brain turns to mush.

His eyes widen a touch at the look on your face. At how quickly your fear has melted into arousal. His fingers flex around your throat, and to your humiliation, a whine escapes you.

"Are you-" he blinks, eyes giving you a slow once over. "Are you getting fucking turned on by this? What the fuck-?"

"Look man-" you seethe, poking a finger into his chest. "I haven't had a good lay in months. And I happen to be a lady who enjoys a good choking. So sue me for just- for my body's reactions, alright?"

His blue eyes are damn near black with how large his pupils have gotten, only a thin ring of blue left behind as the pupils drown out the ocean of his eyes.

"You dirty little slut," he whispers, free hand reaching out, slowly unbuttoning your coat. Agonisingly slowly. It's a glacial pace really. But goddamn does the action get you wetter than a fucking waterfall, the anticipation of it all makes you crave more. "Look at you, already squirming like a bitch in heat. I haven't even fucking touched you, yet."

"Been a while." you inform him, clipped, your hands coming up to grip his shoulders.

You don't know him. This is wrong. You haven't even seen his fucking face.

But, you reason, is it any different to screwing some rando at the bar? You don't learn their names, you only use them for their bodies and go on your merry way.

"Months, you said, wasn't it?" He hums, parting your coat open, exposing the silky number you'd draped on your body tonight. He whistles, low, warm fingers reaching out and running up and down the smooth material. "Well, you're all prettied up, aren'tcha? Been anywhere nice, hm?"

"Just- some party- who cares-?"

"Making polite conversation, is all," he teases, fingers grazing over your pebbling nipples. Your breath hitches, hips bucking instinctively, and he briefly grips your throat tighter in warning. "Now, now, baby," he grins, you're unable to see his smile of course, but the crinkle of his eyes gives him away. His fingers don't stop stroking over your nipples, circling them, ever so gently pulling on them. Anything he can to make you squirm. "Let me take my time with you, you desperate little slut. Who lets guys they don't know touch up on em like this in a fucking alley where anyone can see them?"

Well, you don't have an argument for that.

He can clearly tell, judging by the smug look that comes to his eyes. His hand leaves your breast, gliding down the silk of your dress and to your stomach, where he starts to pull it up, leaving creases in the silky material as he slides his hand further down. Further. Further...

You moan at the feeling of his gloved fingers dipping beneath your panties, immediately finding your wet heat and leisurely stroking back and forth over your folds.

Jesus fucking christ, it feels too good.

You slowly rock your hips against his hand, and he groans, pressing closer to you, his muffled breaths panting right by your ear. It seriously turns you on more than you care to admit.

"Such a good little whore, aren't you?" he groans by your ear, resulting in another moan from you, as he slowly, deliberately, circles your clit. "Look at you, putty in my hands. A stranger's hands, at that."

"Please," you breathe, desperate for him, to be filled up with-

You don't beg anymore than that, two of his long fingers sliding through your folds and up inside of your cunt. Your moan of sheer pleasure echoes through the alleyway, which is soon filled by the slick sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of you, scissoring every other thrust to stretch you wider.

You should feel shame. But you can't bring yourself to, not when it's so intoxicatingly hot having a stranger touch you out in the open like this.

Jesus, it just makes you gush even more around his fingers, the slick sounds of his fingers inside of you is downright pornographic in nature.

"God, you're so fucking tight," he groans, leaning his forehead against your shoulder, his eyes staring down between you, where his fingers disappear in and out of your body. Your release is so fucking close, your hips desperately rutting into his hand as that ever familiar sensation begins cramping at your insides. "Got a fucking vice grip on my fingers, sweetheart, can only imagine how my dick is gonna feel in there-"

With a cry, you cum hard around his fingers, your fingers clutching tight to his broad shoulders, your legs wobbly. You lean your head back against the wall, uncaring of the fresh paint sticking to your coat, your hair. You're too blissed out to care.

He groans, nudging his nose against your pulse, his breathing fast.

"Turn around," he breathes, hands franctically undoing his belt, unzipping his jeans. "And bend over, hands against the wall like the good little slut we both know you are, sweetheart."

With a pathetically horny whimper that you'll scream over later, you do so. You place your palms flat against the brick, still sticky with paint, and you bend at the waist.

He wastes no time in pushing your dress up over your ass, in shoving your panties down your legs. In one, deep thrust, he pushes himself inside of you, your twin moans of pleasure filling the alleyway.

His grip on your hips is bruising, his dick thrusting in and out of your pussy in such a way that you know you'll be feeling it for at least a week.

Passing sirens, however, near knock you out of your lustful haze.

"Hey," you hiss, straightening up, unable not to whimper at the change in angle. "We should- cops are-"

"Who fucking cares?" he pants into your ear, one hand creeping up to wrap around your throat again, your back almost against his chest as he continues the brutal slam of his hips against yours. "You want me to stop?" he asks, breath warm against your skin despite the face covering.

"Don't you fucking dare," you say immediately, instinctively, rocking your hips against his. "I'll call the cops on your vandalising ass if you stop."

He laughs. Distantly, you think about how it's a pretty sound, how you wouldn't mind hearing more of it... but then he changes the angle ever so slightly, and your eyes roll back into your skull near enough.

"Just like that," you pant, fingers coming up to clutch at the hand around your throat. He groans, obliging you as he keeps up the pace, his grip on your throat tightening and loosening every so often.

"You take me so fucking well, sweetheart," he coos, as you feel the clench deep inside of you again, signalling that another orgasm is on the horizon. "Take it like a good fucking slut, fuck- fuck what I'd give to never fucking have to leave this pussy, to just fuck it forever-"

"Oh god, yes-"

"Fuck- FUCK-"

"Cum inside me, please, please-" you beg, as his hips start to stutter against yours, as he whines low in his throat at your suggestion. "Please- need to feel you like- like-"

"Ah- ah fuck-" he groans as his release comes over him, as he fills you up with his cum, as his hips stagger to a halt, his fingers digging into your flesh so hard you just know you'll have marks for days to come.

You both stand there, only a moment, as the sirens get closer. He practically shoves you off of him, stuffing himself back into his jeans, which he quickly buckles back closed. You straighten, legs wobbly and certain fluids leaking down your inner thighs.

It's incredibly hot, if you're honest.

You pull your dress back down, button your jacket closed. He packs up all of his equipment, and you both take a moment to look at each other.

You back away first, heels clacking uncertainly against the pavement. He gives you a nod, and rises, slinging his bag of supplies over his shoulder.

Neither of you say anything as you both start to leave, as you shove your hands in your pockets and turn on your heel to speed walk your way out of the alley. His footsteps grow quieter and quieter as he walks the opposite direction.

Your pockets.

Your... empty pockets.

Your eyes widen, fingers scrambling for the jewels, you turn around, eyes scanning the ground for something shiny, sparkly-

You don't spy it on the ground.

No, you see something sliding into his own pocket, as he turns to look at you before he leaves.

His eyes crinkle as he smiles, and he wiggles a hand at you in a mocking wave. He disappears round the corner in an instant.

"You son of a BITCH-"

[kommandonuovidiavoli]

Headcanon time!

In my head there is a specific reason the Beetles have that house in the show.

Is it because they're poor? That can play into the whole ordeal, of course, but it's not the main reason.

The main reason is they got scammed.

Picture: it is the late 1990s/ early 2000s, and unless you had someone you knew, moving from a whole continent to another wasn't that easy. You had to make plans for even years, search around agencies for a house, buy tickets and decide if you were gonna move ALL YOUR STUFF (aka, more time and money to spend) or if you were gonna buy the place empty and then decorate it from 0 (less expensive, but where the hell are you gonna sleep?).

By the way the house is furnished, I think they went for a mix: some stuff was already there, other stuff was imported, more stuff was bought.

But even if that was the case, it must've been really expensive for them to even just buy the house; you don't pay just for the house, but also for the agency (or agencies) that helped you get the place, the moving etc.

So, of course they wanted something cheap. I know they are played like stupid idiots, but come on, even an idiot can see how bad that place is! So, why don't they move? If they were able to afford a pool, why not a new house?

And here we go to the first point: they got scammed.

They got the house and trusted the agency about the whole procedure. Probably this agency showed them fake pics of another place to sell the thing. It happened a lot and still happens sometimes, unfortunately. So they might've thought they bought some other place for a good price, what a catch!

Of course the agency had them sign papers that wouldn't allow them to get their money back once they got the keys, or some other fishy clause to make sure they wouldn't be able to get out of that situation easily. They had to save their butts knowing they were in the wrong. Probably did something illegal regarding their documents, IDs etc.

So yeah, they move, arrive at the house and... it's shit.

Total shit.

And they can't opt out because they spent all their money for that place, the agency "mysteriously" disappeared, their documents are not all legal so they can't contact police or they might lose the house completely... and they were left with trying to make that place at least look as good as possible and as close to an inviting home for Wally and his future friends.

The end!

[our-queer-experience]

It’s going to be a bit of a vent, also, excuse my janky English cause it’s not my first language

First of all, to my trans siblings who live in America and other countries or places with unsafe environment, I am very sorry for fear and anxiety you have to feel because of recent murder of Nex. It is truly terrible, that so many people including school staff feel justified for not caring about a child just because they happen to identify as nonbinary.

However, right now I want to focus on a KOSA situation, as a foreign queer person who lives in a country with total lgbtq+ censorship and too much control over local internet.

You know, in an age of internet and globalisation it’s so easy to share different experiences. If you have an idea like “I think censoring queer content will help kids be more safe online!” you don’t need to rely on your random assumption “that it will help kids”, you can literally look at experiences of other countries.

As I mentioned, in my country, we have total lgbtq+ censorship kids and are not safe on the internet.

In fact, they are at even more danger, because now if poor kid decides to post something pro-lgbtq+ to celebrate their identity — they can become a freaking target of police and their parents can face legal repercussions. Now, younger queer kids can’t find assistance from few friendly organisations (which are fighting law to stay operating) because it’s just illegal to assist them. Children here are legally not allowed to contact with anything queer related, so in majority of organisations you can’t apply for something as simple as psychological assistance unless you are 18+. The lowest age for application I’ve seen so far was 15. Of course, in private you can discuss being part of lgbtq+ with your doctor, but if you’re a teen in need for free/cheap help it may not be available. A lot of helpful lgbtq+ resources are banned and you can only access them through more anonymous platforms like “telegram” or with vpn (lots of vpn’s are also getting banned). It’s hard to hold someone accountable for crimes committed as part of discrimination (especially online). Queer kids are not safe at schools by any means, in fact, they can face discrimination from school or it’s stuff for their online presentation (if a teacher or someone else notices that you have lgbtq+ attributes on your social media page — kid might be pulled for a talk, outed to their parents etc.). Another “fun thing” is that online content, focused on convening hate towards queer youth or advertising conversion “therapy” is not being dealt with by the government, like at all.

And, as expected, organisations that are helping lgbtq+ people, are now under even more pressure. It is not safe to be out online. It is even more dangerous to try to spread awareness or combat online anti-lgbtq+ stuff because you will literally be considered criminal. We also have drastic increase in rate of queer people or their allies being charged and fined by police, including many activists, public figures and average online users. There’s no denial, that government is using internet censorship as a method of political repression.

Lgbtq+ kids are still there. They haven’t disappeared anywhere just because we can’t talk about them. They are now more vulnerable and afraid then ever. Some are forcing themselves to hide their identities deep in the closet to stay safe, some are choosing to be who they are even if it means risking their freedom.

Why would anyone want to inflict something like that on their children? Idea of “saving kids through censoring lgbtq+ stuff” have proven many times to do more harm then good. It doesn’t matter, how good are your intentions if you refuse to accept feedback on your failed methods of achieving said intentions. If you want to force kids suffer just because for some reason you don’t want to research or see the effects of your chosen method — you don’t care about kids, you only care about your “righteous ideas” and imposing them on others

*dramatic mic drop* I’m done with it

^^^

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Hold Still ~ X.T.

A/n: Gender neutral pronouns were used, so gn reader for this one! Pure fluff after the last angsty fic <3

Request: “Xavier x werewolf!reader where R gets into a fight with another student that Xavier pulls them out of and helps patch them up. R is still drunk on adrenaline(or like mildly concussed lmao), and they keep being annoying trying to steal kisses from him while he’s literally trying to help stop their face from bleeding.”

Word Count: 1500+

MASTERLIST

Xavier had gotten there too late to see how it had started, but it was quickly quite clear how it was ending. Y/n wasn’t shifted at all, only their eyes glowing as they went to town on the person underneath them. Xavier had only managed to slip through the crowd and hook his hands under his partner’s arms, hefting them up and away. They had fought, and though Xavier was taller they were stronger and they almost got away. If him not groaning as their foot came in contact with the sude of his leg and them recognizing his voice, they probably would have gotten away clean.

Distracted by Xavier though, their focus changed quickly as they turned from the guy that Xavier didn’t even recognize - except that they weren’t from Nevermore. Which made no sense because they were at school. The town people never came here on their own.

He focused on his partner as their hands ran over his shoulders and down his arms, eyes scanning for injury.

Despite himself, Xavier smiled. “I’m okay.” Of course they had the time and energy to be worried about him when they had a forming black eye, split lip and bloody nose.

Xavier was a little proud to say the other guy looked worse though. Y/n had handled him well.

Not that he should he encouraging that.

Weems was on the scene in the next breath, leaving no room for further discussion. Her eyes ran over something before her worry turned cold and hard as her eyes landed on the boy still on the ground. No one had even tried to help him up, which confused Xavier even more.

Then he saw it.

When Xavier’s art in town had been painted over last year, Weems had given him permission to do something at the school. He had put all of the effort he had into this one, absolutely sure that it would be safe inside the school at the very least.

The wall he’d had his second painting was white, the paint only on enough to cover what he had worked so hard on, underneath. Over the white was splattered, “Monster” in big blocky red letters. At the bottom of the scene on the wall was an open and prepped bear trap.

Xavier felt himself go pale.

The trap was a message of course, the boy probably hadn’t meant to actually catch Xavier or anyone else. But it would have been easy not to see it if you were lost in a book or practicing some practical magic or in regular school stuff - even if you were in a hurry on the way to class. There was a corner that someone could turn around and completely not see the trap at all.

This kid had not only ruined Xavier’s portrait, he had put every single person at Nevermore in very real danger.

No wonder Y/n had gone for the throat.

Weems leered at the boy at her full height and the boy on the ground shrunk into himself. “You won’t press charges, or spread word on what happened here. If you try to I will expose the instigating actions and very illegal trespassing and assault you’ve done. Don’t even get me started on the physical safety threat you’ve made.” It wasn’t totally accurate, but it would he only too easy to play off if anyone tried anything.

Weems had grown a backbone. That was nice to see.

The boy nodded and, once dismissed by Weems, scrambled to freedom. She then turned to Y/n. She didn’t reprimand them as expected. Her gaze simply softened and she sighed. “I know things have gotten difficult for you since getting arrested,” she said softly to Xavier. His eyes fell to the ground, unable to look at his ruined painting.

For the second time now.

“Make me something for my office instead okay?” She asked.

Xavier nodded, looking at her as she kneeled down to check on how Y/n was doing. “Thanks, Weems.”

The woman smiled. “Of course. Now go get your partner patched up.”

Xavier smiled softly, helping Y/n to their feet. The pair left to Xavier’s dorm. Usually they’d be sneakier or at least get some light hearted joking teasing from teachers or reminders of curfew, but today they just walked and everyone left them alone.

Y/n had stepped up for Nevermore ajd taken hits for it. They could have this one.

Once inside, Xavier sat them down on his bed (It smelled like him and he knew they’d like that). Then he got a wet rag, disinfectant and a few bandages. He sat next to Y/n, reaching over to hold their chin as he used the rag to softly dab and wipe the blood away, cleaning the cut.

They hissed, leaning away on instinct. Xavier shot them a half amused look. “We love a knight in shining armor but now I have to patch you up like the good boyfriend I am. So please stay still.”

Y/n did a little pout. “Can’t you just kiss it better?”

Xavier chuckled. Then he sobered a bit as he realized their eyes were dilated and their gaze seemed a little unfocused.

Shit.

“Hey, are you feeling anything abnormal other than the pain from the bruising and cuts?” He asked, trying to move their chin so their eyes would meet his. They seemed to struggling with the task.

Y/n just shrugged. “My head hurts a little. He got like, two good hits in. But only in the beginning. I landed on the ground before he got on top of me and then I sort of flipped us over and-“ They shrugged again.

Xavier frowned. “Did you hit your head?”

Y/n laughed at that. “Several times. Between his fist and the concrete I got a few good whacks.”

Xavier bit back an angry comment. That wouldn’t help them right now. He would chide Y/n for being reckless and apathetic with their well being another time. “Y/n, you have a concussion.” He raised an accusing eyebrow.

Y/n grinned. “Not surprised I got a bit roughed up falling for you.”

Xavier snorted, rolling his eyes and dodging his partner as they went in for a kiss. “You cannot flirt your way out of this. You should have told me that you hit your head. I could have made it worse.”

Y/n sighed, leaning against the end of the bed, first pushing a pillow behind him so the post didn’t dig into his back. “I’m sorry Xav I just. Tired.” They nestled into the bed and closed their eyes, as if to sleep.

Xavier pulled them into a sitting position, heart swelling when they whined. They were so adorable right now…

He had go focus.

“You can’t fall asleep when you have s concussion darling we don’t know exactly how bad your concussion is.”

Y/n rolled his eyes but conceded. “Fine. Continue your treatment Doctor Thorpe.”

A smile ghosted at his lips again, unable to help himself. “Okay sit still and I’ll try to get the rest of your face.”

“Not my face,” Y/n groaned. “My money winner!”

A chuckle bubbled from Xavier as he was caught off guard by the near drunk way Y/n was acting right now. He seemed to be able to focus more easily now and wasn’t slurring his words, and he seemed to be keeping his balancing sitting up fine enough so Xavier was unworried enough to be able to enjoy the shenanigans. “Whatever, Y/n.” He reached the rag forward to wipe more of the blood away. Y/n ducked the rag and leaned in again for a kiss. This time they got a peck before Xavier ducked out of the way. “Y/n,” he chided.

The put on their best pleading face. “One kiss and I’ll sit still?”

Xavier sighed, taking a second before conceding. “Fine.” They made a squeaky noise of celebration before puckering up, leaning in. Xavier chuckled before shifting his hold from their chin to their jaw, leaning in for a long and deep and sincere kiss. When he leaned away they whined and he found himself suddenly sickly in love. “Please let me finish?”

Y/n hesitated, eyes locked on the details of Xavier’s face, drinking in how he was looking at them right now. They pursed their lips. “Xav. You know you’re not a monster, right?”

Xavier felt something warm settle in his chest. Y/n was always so aware and caring of him, even when they were concussed.

God he was lucky. “I know.” His thumb brushed across their cheek, expression soft. He was melted to the floor in love with them.

They smiled. “Good.” They settled into a single spot, lifting their chin and offering their face for cleaning. Xavier went back to work, thanking whoever was listening above that even though people were cruel and mistakes haunted you even when the mistakes weren’t yours - that despite all the bad in the world, Xavier had Y/n. Someone so good they single handedly balanced everything else.

He could paint another picture. They were worth that.