#like i'm not doing this to let my friends know abt my day i'm doing this so i can go back and read it later lest everything is deleted
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loumauve · 2 months ago
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the goddamn toast water post just made me utter "history is fucking real" in the most solemn and serious tone of voice, out loud, to myself, in the goddamn bathtub
#life is ridiculous and I'm its biggest clown#in my defense it's not even 9 am and I woke up at 6 for some reason (the reason prob being that I start work at 6 atm)#so I chose (violence) reading Stray Gods fic in bed for a few hours followed by the need to just vibe in the bathtub#I've only just had my coffee and a slice of cold pizza leftover from yesterday and it's such a uni-days thing to do#I've kinda missed it. tho I wasn't drinking coffee back then (how the fuck did I survive mornings without it??)#anyway. feeling very soft and tender abt my past self today. I miss her even if she was just as much of a mess. in different ways#the kind of mess who would openly flirt with some strange dude she didn't really know over the phone#the kind of mess who moved across the country just for a chance at trying with sb she liked who really never wanted to date her#the kind of mess who's always fallen for her best friends and who'll likely never stop#the kind of mess who feel so damn hard for a woman 15 yrs older than her just bc she was kind and sweet and a mess herself#the kind of mess who moved in with a friend she was solidly in love with for a bit who had her boyfriend over most nights#just.. it's not all about those feelings but they're decidedly a big part of why I've ever done anything#and I will prob always miss the friend who'd lie on the train platform with me just giggling into the night as ppl walked past#her head on my stomach and me just feeling so high it felt like I'd never stop floating (just for a while though)#I guess what I'm trying to get at here is that Mi miss just letting my feelings take me places even at the risk of losing it all#I'm so much more hesitant and guarded now. and sure part of it is being medicated for my bipolar. it's good that I don't call strangers#and almost invited them over. or that I no longer walk barefoot through the city at night by myself (usually)#but I do miss just idk. intimacy I guess. and how easily it used to come to me to just try and be open abt wanting it I guess#oh well. best be getting out of the bathtub. it's not a good place to be with these thoughts. and it's too early for this anyway#a day in the life of..
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unproduciblesmackdown · 3 months ago
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another day another "applying the concept 'disposability' to 'someone withdraws from a personal relationship, & that wasn't signed off on by the other'" kill me
#literal acknowledged interpersonal abuse Needing to be ''mediated'' (implicit premise of preserving that relationship >>>)#and if the victim doesn't participate they're treating their abusive partner / abusive relationship as ''disposable''#like in what meaningful way. getting away from an abuser is ''disposing'' of them like imprisonment / killing From A State?#dropping an abusive relationship is ''disposing'' of it? like uh yeah i sure hope it is#this is always Vaguely Applied to ''ppl don't want to HANDLE CONFLICTS or DO THE WORK'' & then connected to political actions#like well someone's just a bad person In The World / All Things if they stopped being my friend and i don't know why#like of course that Can Be good faith. it's a personal business#but if someone ghosts you and you truly don't know why Yeah maybe there's something going on but like okay let them go#if they want to do that for reasons you don't think are Compelling or they just aren't interested / putting in that Effort then like#what Friendship is really being lost here. but then tweet about it with no context & a zillion ppl like SO TRUE kys randos#[fart reverb Conflict Is Not Abuse] standard abuse apologetics which are easy & a zillion ppl go SO TRUE b/c It's Abuse Culture#someone HAS to Answer My Texts / Calls / In Person Confrontations As A Bold Clearsighted Political Actor are you kidding#someone really doesn't. even if you Really are like ''and i'm not even consciously malicious'' what a high bar#one gazillion abusive parents will tell you And My Estranged Child Won't Even Tell Me Why / Doesn't Have Any Good Reasons / Won't Talk....#what am i supposed to doooo i'm at a losssss And Really I'm The Victim#''i want to break up'' / ''okay i don't :) let's talk through Your Feelings :) [waffle around until insisting on Same Access To Person]''#someone can rescind interpersonal access to themself For Any / No Reason. on a dime no explanation necessary. for god's sake#and friendship is not actually some magically pure & Neutral relationship either. same things#anyway just unfollowed some rando for their thread spinning off a vague qrt ''ppl are so AFRAID OF CONFRONTATION they unfriend u''#going on & on abt how You Need To Put In The Work & Effort & You're Just Probably A Bad Person Otherwise & Disposability like#the disposability is my three points wastebasket toss. death via the state =/= someone won't talk to you. can we be at all serious#every day i reach out further like aplatonic people [some emblem gesture] lovelessness [same] help me#thinking of a Good Tweet i saw abt framing everything re: interactions with others around Consideration first & foremost#wildly enough the way you treat people doesn't need to have Fundamental Assumptions re: like ah Friendship / Community / Love / Family &ccc#how do you treat a stranger. how do you treat someone who you don't personally like &/or vice versa. how do you treat ppl you don't Meet.#it's all so vague it could mean Anything but a) often hints towards [abuse victims are framed as Bad Political Actors]#& b) then that's what people read into & respond to for sure lol#as ever ''oh everyone's just little bitches who can't handle any discomfort. yes; this was prompted by my being discomfited''#wait yeah lol i did not Confront this stranger to try to Posit this to them in twttr's character limit; just unfollowed. disposability smh
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rustbeltbabey · 6 months ago
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boo hoo sad pity party posting hours LMAO but I rlly truly don't think I will ever be in another relationship again. I don't feel that I will every b desirable or deserving enough, and I don't feel like I will ever even b seen as a guy n idk. I just don't know.
#mayave its imposter syndrome maybe its internalized transphobia but i dont think any gay man would ever date me bc i dont thibk any of them#would thibk of me as a man. idk. maybe this will change once i start like. PHYICALLY transitioning but i rlly feel like theres no hope 4 me#i feel like i will always be thought of as a woman for the rest of my life i feel like i will never pass as anything but a woman i feel like#i dont have any positive qualities i don't like a single thing abt myself i dont thibk im capable of loving someone im so distant w everyone#im so scared of phyically and emotional intimacy i feel like a burden i dont even know how to act like a man and i KNOW that thst isnt a#fucking thing i KNOW theres no right way of being a man i know that logically but still the fact that i grew up isolated from men and#that i rarely interact w them even to this day i have no male friends no male role models nothing im so scared im gonna like.#break social rules n shit which is RIDICULOUS bc once again there's no right way to b a guy or to preform masculinity and also im so early#in my transition no one even knows im a guy anways. but also im worri3d bc of thst no one will ever seen me as one unless i start conforming#to traditional masculinity and i dont know now to emulate it bc ivenonly ever seen it from afar i dont actually know what guys talk about#howbthey act around eachother what is socially acceptable or not i dont have a clue bc i dont ever interact w men and its like. fucking#stupid of me to even want to know bc it shouldn't matter to me BUT IT DOES and it makes me so anxious that i do not know how to emulate it#even if i wanted to i wouldnt know how bc i grew up in a fucking cult and i know so little men and i have terrible social skills n i#probably have autism which just. everything is compounded upon eachother n i feel like im going crazy i dont think ill ever be enough.#I hope i'm in a better mental place when i start t but even that im so fucking bad at doing things bc i have executive dysfunction that like#i havent even started tbe process or called thr clinic im just likem fucking spiraling. I hope my mindset becomes healthier once I start.#anwyss lol. do u guys like me? bc i feel like im unbearable n im trying not to be let me know if u do or not so i can try to cahnge ^.^#🪽
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frostbite-the-bat · 7 months ago
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... My parents really for real are leaving the uncleaned, rotten potato juice and other misc unknown juice infested, LITERALLY FRUIT FLY LARVAE INFESTED, cupboards, in the bathroom,
For like the 4th day starting today if I am counting right
Sure just don't let me shower sure just let me get paranoid over the larvae sure make me not trust the bathtub for like a week sure let the place get more infested sure let it stink up the whole place SURE LEAVE THE FUCKING BATHROOM UNUSABLE
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pegasusdrawnchariots · 8 months ago
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the eternal question: is scheduling w friends as an adult That Hard or am I just bad at it
#4 different people have left me on read today; 1 cancelled our plans 4 hours before we were due to meet#I've been sitting home alone for 2 days going insane. looking forward to One (1) coffee date & that fell through#idk why I'm taking it so hard this time I'm usually fine!! but I find myself wishing I didn't have the day off I wish I did have work :(#like it's tiring yeah but it beats sitting here not knowing what to do w myself#& I'm working all weekend & only leaving the house to see the doctor. oh joy#I've been productive ironing writing fixing the car. that's not the problem#I had 4 social plans this month. that's it#that's like seeing each friend once a month!! I can't keep this up!!#is this the norm for adulthood? :(#& on one level I don't want to bother people or be clingy#but on another level I'm baffled that they don't get lonely too#the news has not shut up abt the Loneliness Epidemic since 2021#but if it's true why do so many people take so long to reply when I reach out? if they reply at all#I'm not going anywhere w this. idk#just one of those days#everything so fuck everybody suck :(#boomers got it right w the whole showing up unannounced at people's houses for a social call with a pound cake#now I have to go through 5 layers of bureaucratic bullshit to see a friend#assuming they don't cancel the day of ofc (((((:#I just wanna be like hello knock knock I am here. tell me abt yr life today & listen to mine & eat this cake#& the worst is when people are like 'I'm cancelling bc I'm tired xx'#OK A) u knew we had these plans for two weeks#but B) I'm tired too! I still love u ur still my friend! let us be tired together!#'I won't be social today I'm tired' my love we could watch movies in silence we could knit we could ball yr socks. idc#'I have to do the big shop today sorry' so do I!!! let us do the groceries together!!!#every time I've pushed someone to come out when they felt depressed or to let me accompany them when they were doing chores#they were like u know what I'm so glad u did this. thank u. this is way better than how I had planned this night to go#& I'm like any time!! I love u!!#& then it just happens all over again next time oh sorry I'm cancelling I'm busy I'm tired#like did u forget what a nice time we had last time? what changed? :(
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zoekrystall · 9 months ago
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Did that fav pkmn thing on a whim and I'm sorry for all my babies I didn't choose bc I really like too many by some.
Love how it's mostly pretty ones and then there's clodsire. Even tho I got it in my team since the beginning of violet do I continuously forget its name bc I just call it by the nickname blobby (one of the rare times I didn't spend hours googling the perfect nickname but it nonetheless is a perfect one)
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And for fun without any legendaries as fav
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Reg nicknames I even write all down so I only spend decades once for each pkmn (unless I don't like the prev one anymore). Need to update that someday since it's mostly old revolution ones but hey. Blaze do I use for arcanine nowadays more and ninetails got others. Gardevoir got soteria nowadays which I prefer more. Etc.
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#a wild lux appears#(made this in december but for whatev reason left it in drafts until now. prob bc I wanted to limit non important posting idk)#Maybe you think garchomp is there bc of other reasons but I use it since dpp bc cynthia made kid me go 'woah!'#I remember having looked up as a kid to cynthia and juniper a lot and that fact n reason behind it makes me also go yeah no I was a girl wh#one day decided to be happier otherwise. Bc the reason was 'oh wow female and cool so I can indeed be that :0' most importantly with junipe#bc I never cared for battles. ye ye ignore fictional professions I was like 8. reason I loath alola tbh I missed doing non battle side stuf#I vividly remember picking my first pkmn game up (hg) and just immediately going fuck being a trainer let me be a prof and it's so funny ho#my horrendous sieve brain has that laser ingrained. Sometimes still brainstorm and I would prob study ghost pkmn tbh who by sheer luck isn'#dead yet. That and maybe being v charismatic to that type idk. Why bc I like those lil fellas.#What I also find extremely funny is having went by sonia prior to swordshield and there being a prof sonia. Wish I still went by it when it#dropped. Imagine. Kid sonia wanting to be a prof and meeting swsh sonia being on her way to be one. I either would've made her my#personality (which I think I nonetheless did I think I changed my icons to her) or would've wildly shaking her going 'it should have been#meeee'. which ig I mentally do by every rival or friend group person that takes that route like take me w you I hate battles please. Insane#that only blueberry academy me start to hate em slightly less. After over a decade of battles. Ig alpharad's n others streams w nuzlockes n#all started to also show me the appeal of actually strategizing instead of brute forcing which I did.#*that only blueberry academy MADE me#Whatev. Also no I don't got anything else that another pkmn would kickstart talking abt. Just know I drag my 2013 xerneas everywhere w me#and it is a fucking crime that I can't throw it into violet. What is this. You clearly don't mind throwing others into regions they don't#belong to at all (which I personally really dislike hc lore wise but gameplay wise whatever let new trainers catch old legendaries)#To come back to fav pkmn yes I'm in the dragonair boat. I hate evolving mine. Dragonite is fine I like it standalone but I like the#aesthetic of dragonair more. Idfc abt logic or whatever this is aesthetic talk. Yes I prefer some fan evos more.#I keep wanting to play that fusion fangame and if you want to know what pkmn I like I found out I have a huge overlap w alpharad there#Which sucks for us both! We adore pkmn that get lewded the most and I hate my life. You do you idc some are humanoid I have to admit that#but I personally would prefer to not see any art or even just jokes abt ANY of that. Humanoid or not I Do Not See.#I don't block let alone report over that just. tag and don't bring that to my doorstep thx.#What I will at most block n judge is if you touch any of the kids idc in this franchise if they're just pixels.#Can you tell I am writing this close to midnight anyways this is all. This became like a completely dif post in the tags welp
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ambreiiigns · 11 months ago
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me & brother watched more bsd And i finished jjk s1 and didn't even give an update i'm so sorry that i'm gonna do it on christmas
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23meteorstreet · 2 years ago
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i have so much life shit i need to complain about right now but everything just comes out as a garbled mess
#gonna make a divider here so ppl dont have to read my stupid tag rant if they dont want to--------------------------------------------------#(sorry i can never resist rambling in the tags)--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------#anyway my mom is coming up here for my birthday after i specifically told her to wait & let me get her a flight for mother's day weekend#& she's staying for two fucking weeks#& there's nothing i can do bc she already bought plane tickets#i mean. i was excited for her to come up. but this amount of time is going to drive me insane#bc i already feel guilty that im not going out & meeting people enough (or really at all) & that's gonna be impossible when she's here#bc i'll have to cater to her the entire time#and i know she's just doing this bc she assumes i'm gonna be alone on my birthday (& apparently not have plans for 2 weeks after!!!)#but i like being alone & doing stuff by myself!!!#and ive been feeling guilty abt that too bc i know it's just hurting my ability to make friends which i apparently so desperately need#like ive been trying so hard to find events bc i already feel so ashamed of myself but i have no desire to actually go#even tho i know i need to#i wish i was the kind of person who's good with people instead of being overwhelmed by everything#so i wouldnt have to deal with all this shame & people wouldn't feel like they have to take pity on me#gonna try to be positive about i guess. been having a hard time doing that lately.
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noxtivagus · 2 years ago
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i shld sleep oh my god
#🌙.rambles#i am somehow not rlly sleepy despite barely having sleep but my head does ache slightly. but just a few more stuff left in this week n#i'll properly rest for a bit ! bcs next week even though we're gna have a break ofc there's like.. prom n then that vacation right after T_#gna be fun but i'm. definitely gna be rlly tired. n.. nah i need to stop overthinking abt sm stuff#just. anxious that i might end up being too shy. usually in social events like that i realize i#end up pushing myself a bit too much n then it ends w me just putting on a strong facade#i'm worried too i think bcs two of my friends haven't.. reconciled yet? so. yeah it is possible i may have to deal w some stuff during prom#fuck. i'm just. worried abt a lot of things in general. but i'm mostly overthinking it. everything.#sigh in general i'm being too harsh on myself again. wtf maybe it's the sleep-deprivation or smth bcs ik i'll manage it all#i believe in myself n know i'm capable but. it's just.. overwhelming rn i think. n it. hurts bcs it's like before in a way..? n like my wol#i wonder. what we'd all do if we were hypothetically given the chance to be able to do whatever we wanted in a day n have whatever we want#without changing the reality we have now or yeah no consequences at all. just a lil day in an alternate world we could control#if you were to choose for yourself n only for yourself what would you do?#sob ig i relate w rinoa too bcs of that strong facade part. i wrote that for my wol too#but like even w all that in the end uh. every time i read these sort of stuff it comforts me deep down#bcs i remember back then when i rlly just had my family#that.. loneliness. i write abt it a lot huh. not that i'm exactly seeking for something. maybe before bcs i didn't talk w my friends anymor#but now i suppose it's just something painfully constant. but not really too#i can't.. put it into words rn n i'm low on sleep. but i rmb just daydreaming to myself back then of my wol's development though#from heavensward.. sorta hiding herself n having to be strong for others. though she so desperately just wants to let her guard down#n be free yk. a break from all her responsibilities n rest.. she's young after all. but while i do relate with that it's still#yk particularly w the context of my wol being yeah the warrior of light in ffxiv. but. i rmb writing of how then that was being strong for#her. n.. yeah she was healing from stuff then. that's hw. but in stormblood ooh i wrote here that she put her emotions to the side#bottled them. became more serious n i tied that w being a samurai main back in stb w duty stuff help this connects well but it's funny#hesitant in heavensward to trying to do things more on her own in stormblood to.. accepting it all in shadowbringers#shy/quiet was more in hw while being serious/calm was in stb. raghhh i rmb my notes well in 2021 but i'm so afraid to look at like#the stuff i wrote last year 💀 but. oh my this is embarrassing but i do like how i even just dump my thoughts. it's bittersweetly beautiful#maybe i'm trying to accept everything at once or yk putting too much pressure on myself to improve holistically.#like.. i want to write before i grow older than my fav charas yk? n then just think of lots of stuff too n.#be productive. study. n idk just more more more in general but i could be less harsh on myself. yeah
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luv-again · 1 month ago
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oh yeah, this morning I had a dream with my former qpp, so uh, now I'm upset ✨️
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loverboybrightsideghost · 2 months ago
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they should invent a way to ask if you have felt suicidal or have had suicidal thoughts at the doctor when they ask where you'll answer truthfully. i am fine and i always fight the suicidal thoughts but i went to the urgent care the other day and they asked and i said no no nothing like that. but i lied! of course i have! i've been vaguely fantasizing about getting hit by a car the past few days!!! i truly hate suicide for Reasons, it makes me incredibly sad and distressed, and for myself sometimes i don't even realize it's started creeping into my head again (i'm fine i genuinely promise) but like. as much as i hate it, it's there in some of my friends and me and i have to wonder about the fact that "yeah, but doesn't everyone at least a little bit?" isn't the right answer.
#bluebird.txt#i'm like sociologically interested why it's so 'popular' or common for people to joke about killing themselves#again. i fucking hate it. i abhor it. i detest it. but the fact is that is how people talk.#and i wonder how many of those people are truly suicidal and how many have never had to ever worry night after night#if the last time they saw their friend would be the last time. if they went to sleep thinking please let them be at school tomorrow.#please let them text me back.#at least you're still here.#how many people who say 'i'm gonna kill myself!!!' over a stupid insignificant test have actually felt that looming horror#how many of those people have truly felt in their souls that life is not worth living and that no one would notice if they weren't there#tomorrow#i ask genuinely. how many? is it that bad that we're all suicidal? am i right in saying 'doesn't everybody feel like that?'#or are some of you just being dramatic cunts who don't know what the fuck they're saying#or has everyone gone through at least one thing that would make them want to end it and am i just being cruel?#i am a positive person. this is partially bc it is in my nature to be excited abt things but mostly it is on purpose.#every day it is on purpose. it's a habit ive built and sometimes the habit falters. sometimes i don't realize when ive started slipping.#but eventually i always do and it sucks shit and it's hard as fuck and annoying as fuck bc it's so much easier to lay down and never#get up again but i fucking choose to get up because life is meant to be lived and you have to live on purpose in order#for your life to be anything that YOU want it to be rather than living in everyone else's world#you have to live in purpose. i live on purpose. and it annoys me so strongly#that there seem to be (again i could be wrong and arrogant and cruel for assuming this) so many people#for whom it takes very little effort to get up in the morning#people who don't spend like 99% of their time Thinking and Thinking and cancelling out the Bad Thinking on purpose#people for whom life is if not easy bc it's not easy for anybody than who don't have to deal with the fucking baggage some of us have#maybe i'm arrogant. maybe years of being told i'm weird and i still haven't managed to get rid of the instinct to make that gap even bigger#maybe maybe maybe. but also i think maybe some of you should shut the damn fuck up and enjoy what you have. if i can then so can you.
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bukuoshin · 1 year ago
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Okay, it's. It's probably safe to say I'm autistic, lol
#rae rants#i took the autism test twice before and. both said 'yeah autism' but i was like. well it's just one test and maybe it's coincidence.#the r one. anyways. yesterday. i found a site that was like a megapost of autism tests and i took... i think 6 tests from established#like. medical journals and psychology sites. and they all were just like 'yeah you have autism' so.#i mean I'm not gonna get a diagnosis but when i was going thru the questions i was like. 'doesn't everyone do that? no one does that!'#when it was decidedly not the case. and then idr how but i got on quora for a related but different topic and got to some#question by someone who is highly suspecting being autistic but didn't understand one of the questions. and before ppl even got to their#explanations (which i always inherently understood) they'd be like 'sorry for the block of text for smth that could use a 2-3 word answer.#that's a symptom of autism.' and when i told my mom abt that she was like. yeah. thats you.#also. i think this is funny. 3/5 of my family has gone 'am i autistic?' and told that to each other.#and we went to watch my brother the other day do a presentation thing for the career he's going into. and we could recognize him (aside from#his unique clothing set-up-- he was rhe only one w a black coat and tan pants) we could identify him cuz he'd be a loner or he'd like.#waddle a little bit while walking. and i know i have a bit of a bob to my step and my mom waddles too (but thats a medical thing).#and after i finished the test i was like. oh yeah isnt 'strange gait' a symptom of autism.#and when i told my mom she was like 'yeah i think we're all autistic. but we're not getting diagnosed bc let's avoid bigotry.' and. yeah.#i mean. obvs its not just cuz i too a handful of online tests. ive been exhibiting symptoms my friend. like ones i should have seen and gone#'well duh' like im selectively mute. always have been. and when i read 'mostly autistic ppl are selectively mute' i was like.#'but im the specialest little exception in the whole wide world :3c'#as well as other related shit. ya know.#knowing my history tho i haven't been officially diagnosed with anything but it's all in my notes. like my medical chart.#so with my weird good-bad luck I could straight up be like 'i have exhibited signs of autism since early childhood' and they'd write#that word for word in my chart. which avoids the oppression of a diagnosis but also doesn't help me much besides that ya know?#if we're mutuals you might have seen me be like 'do i have autism? no i don't have autism but this post is so relatable.'#whilst exhibiting symptoms.#... is 'exhibiting symptoms' offensive to say? it's one of those phrases I've been stuck on lately cuz it's real short hand for#'i recognize this bc i am familiar with it due to my experiences with mental health' but idk if it's taken that way :\
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ritternacht · 1 year ago
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sometimes I see ace positivity and I get excited for two seconds before remembering my experience in my HS queer club where the very first fucking meeting I attended they were discoursing about whether demisexuality is """valid""" and called it stupid and I just stormed out of the room angry crying and never attended another meeting
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remi-thirsts · 8 months ago
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❝ 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐄 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐘 𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀 ❞
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pairing: r. suna x fem!reader summary: Headcanons abt ur man who loves to record his fav girl ! content: very suggestive, established relationship, (p -> v), oral (f + m receiving), fingering, pet names (baby), cursing, filming (consensual for both parties), teasing (when is suna not teasing?), lmk if I missed anything. (kind of a soft smut release since i'm not confident)
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✧ bf!suna who whips out his phone anytime you wear anything that's tight around your curves.
"Okay Rin, I'm coming out tell me what you think of this dress." He lets out an uninterested hum, because you've been in the store for at least two hours. You need a new dress for your cousin's birthday party.
When you walk out and give him a little twirl he immediately exits whatever game he was playing to pass the time and opens the camera app.
"Holy shit, look at that ass baby. Mmm and those pretty tits."
"Can you focus for like one second?
✧ bf!suna who sends you horny videos throughout the day, because he misses you.
dookie butt 😝💖 [1 video attachment] look what u do to me
you -boyyyy i'm at work rn -but holy fuck... you moan so loud that i had to turn my volume down and i think i got looks from people
dookie butt 😝💖 so.... no titties ?
you ding ding ding ! you win blue balls
dookie butt 😝💖 at least send me some ass 😒
✧ bf!suna has a whole ALBUM on his phone of videos of you two fucking.
✧ bf!suna loves watching that one video where it's so shaky and you can barely tell what's going on, but he knows. He was eating you out so good, he had you back arching off of the bed, and your toes curling. You couldn't even hold the phone properly like he asked you too. Being the meanie he is he continued to harshly suck on your clit and hit your g-spot with his, long, experienced, rough fingers even after you came. You ended up squirting all over his face..
✧ bf!suna LOVES to record his dick bulging in your belly. That's how he knows he's hitting it good.
✧ bf!suna comes up with all these ridiculous scenarios/roleplays that you always seem to agree to do with him. He records ALL of them.
✧ bf!suna saves every single nude you send him, because despite what you say he thinks you're beautiful all day everyday.
✧ bf!suna sends you Twitter links asking if you wanna recreate them. Anytime he watches them he can only think about you and himself.
✧ bf!suna has no shame and will watch your homemade videos even with his friends around.
"Damn, Rin whatever yer watching must be really interestin'!" Atsumu spits sarcasm at the EJP middle blocker.
"Way more interesting than you by a long shot." Suna calmly replies which pisses his friend off even more. The blond snatches Suna's phone. Only to hand it back seconds later with a flushed face, "Gosh yer a pervert, Sunarin, a pervert."
✧ bf!suna is like a photographer when you get a new lingerie set. He'll ask you to make different poses and stand at different angles so he can get "the best possible picture"
✧ bf!suna sends you audios of him moaning because he knows you love it.
dookie butt 😝💖 [1 audio attachment] :3
you RIN. I'M MELTING WTF U SOUND SO HOT
dookie butt 😝💖 u should send something back to show ur appreciation
you 🫡
✧ bf!suna never posts or shares your videos unless you ask him too, and the ones he does share with the internet are the ones where no one can see your faces.
✧ bf!suna all in all loves you and your beauty. Every single video he's recorded is proof of that. When you watch them, you notice the little things, like how he'll prop up a pillow for you, or how he'll quietly ask if it's okay for him to keep going and whatnot. Many would think that he's just horny all the time and doesn't care about you, but he does care. Way more than haters will realize.
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©𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈-𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐒 All works are written by me! Please do not copy, translate, or upload onto other sites thanks!
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goldfades · 7 months ago
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𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐒 ─ PB⁵
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౨ৎ ─ summary | request -> "paige x iowa!reader (pre-relationship) on game day where maybe r is mic'd up the whole time so fans hear how they flirt, joke around, etc so they start shipping them? the other uconn/iowa girlies always tease them abt it and one night they all go out to a bar tg and someones on live and accidentally catches p and r against a wall kissing or smthn 🫣" for my lovely disco nonnie!
─ word count | 2.6k
─ warnings | teasing, lots and LOTS of teasing, mention of injuries, so much flirting, teasing, slightly suggestive, kissing.... oh and did i mention teasing????
─ taglist | guys idk why my taglist isn't working pls help me and lmk
─ ev's notes | okay so i want to know if yall like the little comment section i put in some of the posts, because i love doing them and i wanna know what ur thoughts are.
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"OKAY, HEY LADIES and gents. It's your favorite, me. Y/N L/N," you tried to whisper into the mic secretively as you looked around. Before you could continue talking, you felt Caitlin grab your shoulders and shake you, eliciting a yelp from you.
You sent her a glare as she giggled and walked away, causing you to roll your eyes. "Anyways, sorry for that stupid interruption. It's game day here at Iowa and we're going against... I don't even remember their names."
You were obviously joking, you had plenty of friends on the UConn basketball team and it was running joke that you didn't like them. You smirked into the camera, knowing full well that your faux ignorance would rile up some competition.
"But hey, who needs names when we've got game, am I right?" You grinned, your enthusiasm showing. "So, while we prepare to show those other guys what real basketball looks like, let's talk strategy."
Leaning in closer to the microphone, you adopted a more serious tone, though the mischievous glint in your eye remained. "First off, we gotta dominate the boards. Rebounds win games, folks. Then, we'll run those fast breaks like there's no tomorrow. Speed kills, baby."
You paused for dramatic effect, pretending to adjust an imaginary headset. "And of course, let's not forget about defense. Lock 'em down, make 'em work for every shot. That's how we do it here at Iowa."
You turned around to see some of your teammates giggling at you, causing you to roll your eyes. "I'm getting bullied again, guys. Remember amazing, hot and very cool players have feelings too, okay?"
"Can you shut the hell up and come stretch with us?" You heard Caitlin shout from the court, causing you to sigh dramatically.
With a playful wink at the camera, you turned away, joining your teammates on the court for the pre-game warm-up. As you stretched and bantered with them, you saw the opponents walk in. You couldn't help but bit your lower lip as you averted your gaze from a particular blonde whom you've gotten close to these last couple of months.
After last year's game, Paige followed you on Instagram and you began talking more. However when you two got injured around the same time, it caused you two to talk more and form a closer bond. Eventually, it turned into Paige texting and calling you every single day and now, it's like you two have known each other your entire lives despite you guys seeing each other face to face three times.
You couldn't help but steal glances at her as you stretched, a small smile playing on your lips whenever your eyes met. The familiar banter and teasing between your teams seemed to fade into the background as you found yourself drawn to her presence.
But amidst the closeness, there lingered an unspoken tension ─ a delicate balance between friendship and something more. You couldn't deny the flutter in your stomach whenever Paige's eyes met yours, or the way your heart raced whenever she flashed you a smile.
Caitlin's voice broke through your thoughts, snapping you back to reality. "Yo, Y/N! Focus up, we've got a game to win!"
"Oh my gosh, look it's serious Caitlin I'm so scared," you spoke into the mic quietly, hoping that she wouldn't hear you. Unfortunately, she did and she got up, holding up her hand as you put your hands over your head. "No, I'm sorry!"
Caitlin laughed at your antics, her laughter infectious as she waved off your dramatic apology. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood today, Y/N," she teased, giving you a playful shove before turning back to the team. "But seriously, let's focus up. We've got a game to win, and I don't plan on losing to those guys."
"Yeah, me neither." She helped you get up from the floor as you walked to the bench. "Thanks, Cait," you said with a grin, falling into step beside her as you made your way to the bench.
As you settled onto the bench, you took a moment to mentally prepare yourself for the game ahead. The familiar sounds of sneakers squeaking on the hardwood, the echoing noise of the crowd, and the anticipation building in the air all served to fuel your determination.
You rose to your feet, eyes fixed on the court ahead. With a quick glance at the UConn's lineup, you immediately spotted Paige among their starting players. Your heart rate quickened slightly as you realized the task at hand — you needed to guard Paige and shut down her scoring opportunities.
In any other situation, it would be easy. Even if the person you were guarding was someone you were friends with, you always made sure to stay professional but this was slightly different. Paige had been the theoretical shoulder you'd been crying on for the last year about your injury that you'd just healed from.
As you stepped onto the court, Caitlin's words from earlier echoed in your mind. You couldn't afford to let Paige get the better of you, not today. You made your way toward Paige and as she met your eyes, she gave you a small smile. You could still talk to her, right? She held out her hand for a quick dap-up and you accepted it gratefully.
"Bro, me and Nika were just talking about how your hair is probably gonna be perfect. You have the best game day hair," Paige spoke finally as you laughed nervously, your gaze momentarily averting to the floor then back to her.
You felt yourself blush under her gaze as you playfully brushed off the compliment. "Oh, you think so, huh?" you smiled, trying to keep the mood light despite the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "Well, what can I say? Gotta look good for the cameras,"
Paige smirked in response. "Oh, trust me, you always do," she teased, her words laced with a playful flirtation that made your heart skip a beat.
You looked into Paige's eyes, you couldn't shake the feeling of warmth that washed over you. There was something about her presence, her easy smile, that made you feel at ease, even in the midst of a game.
"Says you, with your cute braids. You gotta teach me how to do those one day, you know." You playfully nudged Paige's shoulder, a smile spreading across your face."Now you're just showing off," you teased, your tone light and playful as you admired the braids that framed Paige's face.
Paige chuckled, a soft sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "Or I can just do them for you once you actually visit Connecticut, like you promised."
You just realized that you were mic'd up, as you glanced down at the mic. You laughed nervously, shaking your head. "Alright, alright, you've got yourself a deal," you replied with a playful wink.
You then felt Kate's hand tap on your shoulder, motioning for you to come to the bench with her. Paige gave you a small smile as she did the same, your heart fluttering at the sight of her smile. With one last glance at Paige, filled with a mixture of excitement and anticipation, you followed Kate to the bench.
"Are you gonna lock in, Y/N?" Caitlin's voice rang out as you glanced up at the tall brunette. You saw the slight smirk on her lips as she gazed at you, teasing you without saying anything. She was practically screaming "you're whipped!" as she did.
"Yeah, I'm locked in," you responded as you averted your gaze, laughter echoing in between your teammates as a blush covered your cheeks.
"You know, cus if you're not, I can guard Paige while you go shoot-"
"Oh shut up, Caitlin I hate you." You groaned, causing her to laugh along with the rest of the team. Caitlin's teasing banter was a familiar part of the pre-game ritual, and despite your protest, you couldn't help but smile at her antics.
"Hey, just looking out for you, Y/N," she teased, her tone lighthearted as she flashed you a grin.
As the referee's whistle blew, signaling the start of the game, you shook off any lingering distractions and locked into the moment. This was it the moment you had been waiting for. With a deep breath, you blocked out the noise of the crowd and zeroed in on the game plan.
At one point, as you and Paige push for position under the basket, you couldn't help but let out a laugh as Paige jokingly accused you of stealing her post moves. "Hey, imitation is a form of flattery, right?" you quipped, earning a playful shove from Paige in response.
But perhaps the most memorable moment came when you and Paige found yourselves face-to-face during a heated confrontation for the ball. With the game hanging in the balance, you couldn't help but exchange a playful smirk with Paige, feeling a slight warmth on your cheeks.
Iowa had ultimately won the game but there was no bad blood between the two teams (thankfully), players from both teams exchanged handshakes and congratulatory words, acknowledging the hard-fought battle that had unfolded on the court.
Sure, some of the players were a little hurt but it wasn't like it was the end of the world. However, you knew at some point the two teams would have to play against each other during play-offs but you didn't let yourself get too worried right now. Right now, it was important to savor the moment, to celebrate the hard-fought victory with your teammates and bask in the camaraderie of the game.
──
"You looked good," Paige spoke as she leaned against the wall of the bar. Some of the girls on the team wanted to go out and celebrate and the UConn girls wanted to join. And that was how you found yourself standing next to Paige, a little tipsy as you leaned against the wall beside her, a warm flush spreading across your cheeks at her compliment.
"Thanks, you too," you replied, unable to hide the smile that tugged at the corners of your lips. You felt yourself shy away from her gaze, a stark contrast to how you usually were ─ teasing and outgoing.
Paige noticed that quickly, a small smirk appearing on her lips as she took a tip of her drink. "Aw, look at you, all flustered," she teased, her tone light and teasing as she nudged your shoulder gently.
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," you replied, rolling your eyes in mock exasperation. "Gotta stay humble, right?"
Paige laughed, the sound sweet and infectious as she leaned closer to you. "Don't worry, I think you can handle it," she said with a smirk, her words sending a shiver down your spine.
She gazed at you for a little longer as you looked away, only for her to grab your chin and hold it so that you kept looking at her. With a soft chuckle, Paige leaned in closer, her breath warm against your ear as she whispered, "You're cute when you're flustered,"
"I never thought that you could be shy, you know... with all that shit-talking on and off the court." Paige remarked as she let go of your chin, her gaze still heavy on you. "It's kinda giving me an ego boost,"
"Oh shut up," you mumbled as you took a sip from your own drink, Paige's gaze following your lips. There was something about the way she looked at you, the way her eyes seemed to linger on your lips, that made your heart race.
As you lowered your drink, you met Paige's gaze once more, a playful glint in your eyes. "You're not so bad yourself, you know," you replied with a smirk.
Paige chuckled softly, the sound like music to your ears as she leaned in closer, the warmth of her breath sending a shiver down your spine. "Oh, I know," she teased, her voice low and teasing as she leaned back slightly, a playful twinkle in her eye.
She wasn't usually ever this cocky, sure she's had her moments but never to this extent ─ she didn't know if it was the alcohol or just you. There was something about her self-assured demeanor that was both enticing and captivating, drawing you in with each exchanged word and shared laugh.
"Well, aren't you just full of yourself tonight?" you teased, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your lips as you leaned in closer to her.
"Can you blame me?" Paige replied with a grin, her confidence unwavering as she met your gaze. "I mean, if you had a pretty girl getting flustered over every word you say, even after her beat team yours, you'd be feeling pretty confident too," she continued, her playful tone tinged with a hint of desire as she leaned in closer, the warmth of her breath grazing your skin.
"Well, I guess I can't argue with that," you replied with a grin, your tone light and teasing as you leaned back slightly, a playful twinkle in your eye. "But just remember, I'm not one to stay flustered for long."
With a playful smile, she leaned in closer to you. "Well, lucky for you, I happen to enjoy a challenge."
Her eyes kept flickering down to your lips as she downed her drink, putting it down on the table next to you. She leaned in closer, as if to test the water, grazing her lips against yours as your breath hitched.
She took your reaction as a yes, her hands finding your hips as she pushed you against the wall. She pushed her lips into yours in a hurried kiss, the intensity of her touch sending a jolt of electricity coursing through you.
You responded eagerly, your hands finding their way to her shoulders as you pulled her closer, the world around you fading away as you lost yourself in the moment. With a sense of urgency, Paige deepened the kiss, her hands exploring the contours of your body with hunger.
The taste of her lips was intoxicating, a heady mix of alcohol and longing that left you breathless. You forgot all about your teammates and who might see this and recognize the two of you, because neither of you really cared anymore.
Jada drank her water as she kept skimming through the comments of the live, reading them and chuckling at every remark toward you and Paige. Kate was behind her, momentarily blocking from everyone seeing what you two were currently up to.
Kate heard someone call her name as she quickly got up from her spot, turning to respond to the voice. As she moved away, the brief obstruction she provided from prying eyes was gone, leaving you and Paige momentarily exposed.
As Jada's gaze flickered to the screen, she froze, her eyes widening in surprise at the unexpected sight before her. "Oh shit- I mean, shoot." She quickly moved her phone as she glanced at the sight, giving the camera a shocked look as she thought about what she should do.
She had basically just outed the two of you but to be completely fair, it was on you two for making out in a very public bar. "Guys, don't worry that wasn't Paige that was just some other blonde. Sorry guys, you know how Y/N has a thing for blondes."
She sighed as she locked eyes with Kate, who gave her a shocked expression as she looked down at her phone. Kate gave her a look before Jada looked down at her phone, laughing as she waved.
"Looks like we are gonna have to end the live, sorry guys. Love you, bye, mwah mwah."
Paige finally broke the kiss, leaving the both of you to catch your breath. She smiled as her finger swiped your bottom lip, tracing the outline of it gently. You couldn't help but catch your breath, the taste of her lingering on your lips like a sweet memory.
"You're fucking beautiful," she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur as she leaned in to place a soft kiss on your lips again.
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↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡
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hoseoksluna · 2 months ago
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PROMISES | myg
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pairing: idol!yoongi x f. reader
genre: fwb au / angst, smut
word count: 9.3k
summary: when you needed your social battery recharged by your fuck buddy yoongi, you didn't expect to have your undiscovered feelings for him reciprocated. 
pin: promise / taglist: join / discord: join
warnings: strong daddy issues, slight dd/lg, manipulation, tiny rough treatmeant, edging, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), teasing, mixed feelings, oc is confused abt her feelings and the whole situation, fight, yoongi counts down, unprotected sex, pussy spanks, nipple play.
note: this has to be my worst work in the whole hoseoksluna universe. i'm terribly upset, disgusted, unmotivated. i wrote this all week, hated every second, and i'm sorry to say this is my last smut for a while. i'm really struggling mentally, i'm struggling with writing, and i don't know what to do anymore. i'm posting this a day early because i can't stand this fic anymore. i can't stand smut. you're free to skip this one until i get better.
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You were a folded swan, drifting upon the smooth, glittering surface of a river that led nowhere—a dead end, bearing the face of a man you’ve been casually seeing for the past few months. A man that clutched adrenaline and tenderness in his fist like a bouquet of the prettiest woodland wildflowers, on top of which perched a note signed in your name. Scratchy Latin letters, doused in ebony ink, they had more life than you did at this moment; poetry-woven experiences that had you feeling life like life should be felt—drastically, enthusiastically and delightfully. Every vowel depicted the closure of each night you spent with him: mouth parted agape, through which the sweetest moans would erupt and saturate him in a certain kind of fatherliness, pride and manliness. 
It’s what you need, laying as you are on the linen sheets of your bed, dressed down to your lacy underwear that you thought would make you feel better, somehow would recharge your dead battery that was stuck on zero percent for longer than you care to admit. Father issues, dissatisfaction at your workplace, at your home life, at life itself. You were tired, your concentration running thin as you were watching your well-loved K-drama that you have seen a hundred times before. Through your vision, your own non-romantic interest would fly by, smiling down at you in your dejected state and form. Your body knows him more thoroughly than your heart, stirring erratically at the memories that would begin to flood your system. Tongue, lips, hands. His cock that he would tease you with, giving it to you and not giving it to you purposefully because he enjoyed the sight of your desperation for someone like him—a person who has seen the worst of life, its characteristics engraved upon his skin, and yet you still yearned for him, yearned for those scars. You didn’t have to tell him, but he knew. 
He knew by the way you would so very often trace the scar upon his shoulder, either with your fingertips or your lips. You were friends, fuck-buddies to be more precise. You were aware that someone entangled in a special friendship such as this shouldn’t do something like that, but you couldn’t help it. Yoongi taught you many times to listen to your body and you were doing just that. 
Following your body’s inclination to sink into his soul that he wasn’t too scared to let you inside of. 
He allowed you to do it to such an extent that the threat of his quick orgasm would appear and he would slip out of you, distract himself between your legs, make you come twice in a row—perhaps as a playful punishment, or perhaps as a reward. 
He saw you—and right now you need to be seen, folded in your forest-scented exhaustion while the river flows on, the trees sway on and everyone else passes by while you remain fixed on the same spot, stooped in your ungratified, seemingly unnamed problem. 
You can text him, ask for a quick fuck, something he’s very well acquainted with, used to at this point—so much that everytime you leave his place stuffed full of his cum, he stuffs you with something else as well. 
A promise for the next time.
A package of something to make you look forward to your tight-knit time spent with him. The last time, he had promised to take you to a running sushi restaurant, where you didn’t linger for long because you got fed up with the way other people would steal the sweet plates you wanted to try. He had fucked you in his car to make you feel better about your innate misanthropy and while he was balls-deep in you and you struggled to catch your breath, he promised you ice cream. With each thrust that squeezed your soul, he described how you’d enjoy each lick, the details of the flavor and how he’d buy you any ice cream you wanted. You hadn’t realized it then, within the stupor of your mind-numbing pleasure, but now as you are recollecting it, you perceive how bothered he was by the way other people ruined your night with him. 
And that rips open the restraints around the butterflies in your stomach. 
You want some ice cream—and more than that, you want to see him. Close your mouth around the adrenaline he’s always so willing to fill your life with. 
You don’t know what he’s doing at seven PM on a Thursday night. You usually meet him on Fridays or during the weekend if he’s working the day before. You’ve never shown him your neediness—and there’s a certain dangerous feel to it, baring yourself naked in this way, despite the fact he’s seen, touched, and licked every inch of you. And it’s hard for your brain to comprehend that you yearn for him when your social, emotional and physical battery is dead. If anything, you should be resting as you are, get right in order to be at your best for the next time you see him. 
But alas… 
With a sigh, you turn to your other side and reach for your phone that you’ve been charging, gliding your hands down the cable, imagining it’s his arm. And with a frustrated furrow of your brows, you tap on the circle above your messages. A pinned picture of him that you took, his face caught in his gummy smile against the dark backdrop of his car interior, filtrated with the twinkling lights of Seoul’s city buildings. Another sigh leaves you, one that exasperates you because why are you so needy for him? Why can’t you be a normal girl, independent, okay with your own company shared with the fictional people that you love? You’ve spent your girlhood like this, and happily so. Why does growing up mean you need the male energy more than your own? 
Biting your lip, your anxiety spikes up, but your desire for Yoongi overwhelms it, wins. And that settles a layer of calmness over it, gives the command to your fingers to type what they need to type. 
hi
what are you doing 
The bubbles don’t emerge from the dark motive of your chat until a few minutes later, the green of his message brightening up your phone—and your life, too. 
About to have a concert. Having a shot right now for your health. 
Oh, shit. A strange concoction of disappointment and a deep, low, murmuring stimulus rises in you. The swan in you elongates her neck, interested, but still dispirited considering her options. She will have to fold back into her form, and continue on her long, somber voyage back from the dead end, dwelling on the thrill of the flirtation of the man that she likes a little bit too much. 
Staring at the thick canvas of trees and shrubbery that aren’t letting you in to see him, you think about what to type, your thumbs hovering in the air. Life dislikes you; life wants you to suffer—
A ringing tone of your phone tugs you away from your distressed thoughts. The Latin letters of Yoongi’s name expand across the screen behind that picturesque and private shot of him, enlarged, stirring your heart. Silence spreads through your mind and your thumb quivers as you slide it across the bar to accept his call, placing the device against your ear. 
It feels as though you’re pressing the side of your head against his, especially so once you hear the warmth of his raspy voice pronouncing your name in his accent, marked by the liquor he drank prior to your messages. 
Enlivened, your body is. Just from that. 
“What’s up with you?” Yoongi asks, and the swan sails a little bit more swiftly, her tucked-in wings fluttering against her feathery body. You play with your necklace, your trembling so, so terribly evident. You’re glad he didn’t video call you, but the phone call is much more intimate and pleasant. 
You huff out a noise of desperation without meaning to and cringe at yourself, crunching up your features. Yoongi calls you by your name with a tiny hint of alarm and you curse yourself, silently. Your misanthropy gets pointed at you. 
“Noth—”
“Should I cancel my concert right now?” he suggests, cutting in, and you can hear the drunken playfulness in his voice, the one you have enjoyed on many occasions. Even acted out on your pleasure from it by making him, physically, feel good about it. You wish you could suck his dick right now, right before his concert, so he gives out his best for his fans. 
The sighs are ceaseless and you don’t bother to stop them at this point, your enlivened body soaking up in a swelling, unmet desire. 
“You’re sighing,” he notes, and you discern a cube of ice clinking in his glass, then a swallow of his throat, as if the indication of your yearning got him going, got him needing that burning liquid. “Are you horny for me?” 
Enlivened, your butterflies are, starting a war just from that sole question: desire versus your mental health. 
And using the vanilla scent of their wings, they remind you of the fact that you’re an adult woman and that you’re allowed, and more than allowed, to do whatever your body asks for. And if it’s asking for Yoongi, you’re going to go the extra mile to get him. 
Brazenly and femininely—and a little bit slyly. 
“Maybe I am, maybe I’m really craving that ice cream you promised me,” you say, lowering down your tone, and you play with the lacy lining of your bra. Think you can tease him with it for a good effect. “I’m wearing a nice lacy set right now.” 
Yoongi sucks in a breath and lets it out in a sigh that is entirely redolent of you, making your mouth curve in a soft smile. “What color?” 
Your expression of a muted joy expands as you tell him. “Red.” 
He swears, raspily, and the shade of your lingerie becomes more vibrant in the dimmed yellow light of your bedroom. And there you feel it—a more intense tendril of lust slithering down your sternum, moving your body side to side against your sheets in need. And the whimper that comes out of you is more primal than it is forced. 
At the sound, Yoongi pauses. You imagine him biting his lip, the gears in his brain turning, and he doesn’t disappoint you. He never does. 
“Do you have a dress of the same color?” he asks, small pants escaping his mouth, and you smirk. 
“I do.” 
He chuckles in personal delight. “Wear it for me. The set, too. I want to see it. I will pick you up after the concert and get you that ice cream.”
Your butterflies spring to your lungs, making it hard for you to breathe. And you don’t know whether to be glad, to be happy, to jump on your bed or to get ready. All those emotions simultaneously gather in you, spreading sparks of excitement down your nerve endings. And most of all, you want to hug him. 
You want to hug your adrenaline-infused angel. 
“Okay,” you agree, prolonging the vowel, the muscles in your cheeks aching. “How long is the concert?”
His delight leaks out through a deep hum, one that causes you to tense your body in feverish eagerness. “Two hours. Can you wait that long for me without touching yourself?” 
You sink your teeth into your bottom lip. Think you can wait however long for him, just as long as you get to see him. “I can, but my panties will be ruined. Sticky and uncomfortable.” 
The hum is strangled by his strained intake of breath, turning you woozy, your fingers itching to slide beneath your said panties, knowing his noises alone would make you come in seconds. You weren’t wet before he called, but now you can feel the center of the fabric dampening the longer you talk to him. 
“I’ll take them off as soon as I can. I promise. Hold it out for me.” 
And you believe him. You compress that promise into your hand, warming it up with your body heat before you tuck it safely into the chambers of your heart—and you wait. 
You wait for him to fulfill the myriad of his promises. 
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You did hold it out for him, and brilliantly so. You watched one episode of your drama with a little bit more vehemence, despite the fact Yoongi swam past your thoughts more times than you can count. You’ve never watched him perform in real life as his own private life was always kept in secrecy from his fans, but your curiosity led you to search him up online and watch a playback of one of his more upbeat songs. Dressed in a long black coat, white shirt and a tie, your mouth was wide open, as well as your eyes, as you took in his ferocious energy, enhanced by his passion, and you never looked at him the same as before. He became someone else, a figure of brutal yet tender power and it made you want him even more zealously. 
The memories of that performance resurfaced in your mind every now and then, and his Agust D persona would melt into the male interest of the show, deepening your desire for him as you dreamed. 
Dreamed of reaching different highs with him. More profound, more devastating. 
A dream that could never come true. A promise that would never flow past his mouth. 
You didn’t let that ruin your night, however. As the second hour wrapped around you and your body lacked the heat it needed, you shut your laptop and stood up to your feet, walking over to your closet. Your fingers found that red dress you had spoken about first before your eyes did, silky and sleek amidst the thick, woolen fabrics of your winter clothes. It was the only nice dress you had, one you haven’t worn before, and you were thrilled you got to wear it for him tonight. 
It fit you like a second skin, hugging your curves just right, fading into the lacy linings of your lingerie. One would have to sharpen their gaze in order to notice it—and you wondered if Yoongi was going to scout it with his eyes first or with his fingers. 
The unknown excited you, so much that your panties gained that stickiness you mentioned in the phone call. And when you sat down to slide your feet into your black strappy heels, the feeling was so intolerable that you cringed—and your brilliancy ended there. 
How were you going to sit against your cold arousal for another hour? 
The awaited text didn’t come through until you were dousing yourself in your vanilla perfume. Yoongi was downstairs, waiting for you in his car. Left my lights on for you, he had typed to reassure you because he knew how anxious it made you, looking for his parked car in the dark when you couldn’t see anything. 
Your heart blossomed two times bigger when you checked it from your window. Yoongi in the passenger seat, scrolling through his phone, the headlights filtering through the mist of the deep of the night. You smoothed a hand down your tummy, calming your butterflies, and, reapplying your lipstick, you grabbed your coat and went outside to meet him. 
He spotted you long before you lifted your head to smile at him and he reached over to the side and opened the door for you. The motor was running, keeping the warmth intact for you, and you sighed in relief when you entered it—only to realize that Yoongi had turned on the seat heater for you. 
You melt into the leather, closing your eyes, the ambience of the present moment nestling upon you like the most delicate layer of snow that dissolves when you feel a swift breath along your neck and it’s Yoongi, lengthening his arm and closing the door while keeping his twinkling gaze on you and giving you a pleased smile. 
The butterflies kick against your stomach. 
“I was going to do that,” you say because you truly were—it’s just that the snug, comforting heat he prepared for you made you want to stop and bask in it as the short walk from your apartment building to his car numbed your bones to such an extent that you needed the time to defrost. And he quickened the process by placing an even warmer hand upon the nylon of your inner thigh that the slit of your dress and your trench coat exposed. “It’s just so cold.” 
He fondles the fabric of your tights on the top of your thigh with his thumb. A gesture of comfort that diffuses life down your legs and colors your cheeks in a shade of pink that irradiates the subdued atmosphere of the car. It’s hard to breathe—and it’s hard to resist him, keep yourself cool and not swing your leg over. 
Fuck the ice cream. You want something way creamier. 
“It’s only right I close it for you after I opened it,” he reassures, the deep tenor of his voice puncturing right through you, looking for your core, and you shift your hips, the discomfort of your wetness not allowing you to relax as much as you need. Yoongi’s eyes flick down to your movement and he parts his mouth as that distinctive smirk of his divulges his enjoyment in seeing you so horny for him. “Are you still sticky for me?” 
It’s now that you take the time to fully look at him. There’s a certain glossiness to his long hair that tells you he went home and took a shower before he got inside his car and drove through the quiet night to meet you. You can smell the rosemary of his shampoo and the usual minty aroma of his body wash, blended with his natural musky pheromones and the wood, the tangerine of his perfume. He’s the synthesis of your internal woodland, the breath of the trees that your swan inhales and a punishment, all in one; and you’re not sure if you can hold out any longer. Both emotionally, both physically.
“Very sticky,” you say, wrapping your hands around his arm, descending your fingers down the bulky, wooly material of his winter jacket like you were touching your charging cord—a temporary dream come true. You enclose your palm around his knuckles, think that if he feels how wet you are, he’ll realize that you sentimentally require more than he normally gives you—that your flesh will somehow tell him and give him the bravery to do so. 
But Yoongi doesn’t move an inch. His fingers remain fixed on the inner of your thigh, digging dents into the skin as you feel the bulging of his bicep the more you push his hand towards your wetly clothed cunt. His smile falls, his eyes droop—and the energy is charged with such unnamed intensity that you let go of your pursuit, slipping your fingers beneath the edge of his sleeve as a sign of your submission. 
That quickly. 
“You promised to hold out for me, didn’t you?” he asks, waiting for your agreement, and you nod, feverish, dripping with perspiration, with this great need that towers over you. “Then, be like Daddy and keep your promise or you’re not getting anything.” 
A shiver cascades down your spine—not merely from his authoritative voice, but from the role he dipped into that immediately puts you into yours. You begin to giggle, palming your mouth as the blush in your cheeks bursts and tears of overwhelmingness add a certain glint to your eyes that sparkles beneath the yellow-tinted car interior lights. And using this fatherliness of his, he interweaves your arousal around his long, piano fingers, announcing he’s its King. 
Your essence trickles out of the confines of your panties. 
“You’re doing this on purpose,” you whine, still giggling, you can’t help it. Yoongi takes after you, blessing you with that gummy grin of his that you adore so much. Your heart enlarges. 
“What exactly am I doing on purpose?” he challenges, kneading the flesh of your thigh, and he senses his answer right away. Your essence travels to his hand, stopping there, and once again Yoongi’s smile falls, eyes plummeting to it, hand lifting—and fingers gathering that warm slick. 
And it drips onto his own pants-clad thigh when he plunges his fingers into his mouth, shocking you to your core. 
“Yoongi—”
He hums in titillation, interrupting you, and smacks his mouth. For a brief amount of time, he seems to be in his own world as he tastes you on his tongue. And then, he takes those same fingers, turns the key in the ignition, moves forward the shift stick, and without sparing you a glance, he drives out of his usual parking spot and doesn’t hesitate to correct you. 
“Not Yoongi. Daddy.” 
You clamp your mouth shut. Think you need some kind of plug to stop your arousal from flowing down your thigh. Yoongi doesn’t mention what just happened throughout the whole drive, but you do notice his semi-hard manhood poking out of his groin area. You salivate, but don’t tempt him, squeezing your thighs together so tightly that your muscles cramp. 
You’ll save it for later. 
You listen to him talk about his concert experience of tonight while the drum in your clit matches the beat of the songs of his playlist. He speeds down the road, keeping his hands on the steering wheel and the shift stick, and he doesn’t look at you until he halts the car at the first red light. 
He smiles at you, knowingly. A dirty, dirty smile that turns your world upside down, vexes you deeply—enough for you to swivel your head in the other direction to ignore him because if you looked at him any longer like that, you’d be unbuckling his pants. But Yoongi does what he pleases. With his index finger, he whips your chin back to him, leans over and grins before he presses his lips against yours. 
A gentle, gentle kiss. One that does not mirror his demeanor. 
Your walls flutter, your whole body, too. Shock seizes you in its grasp at that gesture of affection and you can’t breathe—he’s stolen all of the oxygen in your lungs. The trees sway and bend, the swan in you dances quite buoyantly, despite the fact that a storm is coming. 
A storm of your emotions. 
He’s never kissed you like that—out of the blue, at the red light. He kisses you when he’s drunk, handsy and touchy-feely as he everlastingly is, but he doesn’t kiss you just like that when he’s sober. 
“You doing good?” he murmurs against your lips, ripping away the fingers of your shock, and it feels as though you’re waking up from a dream—only to glide, boundlessly, into another one. Yoongi waggles with your chin before he pulls away, the yellow light bathing him in its shade momentarily before the green blinks and he jumps back into his own world. 
Does he really think you won’t erupt in this storm? Disintegrate into smithereens and wipe everything clean that he is? 
“What was that for?” you ask, softly, your lips numb and aching for more of his tenderness, one that you would, in all honesty, die for. You trace the print of his own lips on yours, feel its heavy warmth, and you might as well be drunk just from that. 
You need a shot. And not just one. 
Yoongi bites his bottom lip. “You’re holding out so well. I thought you deserved it.” 
You roll your eyes back—not from raw annoyance, but from the pristine pleasure you receive from the dominant, fatherly energy of his words. Suddenly, you don’t know what to do with your hands, what to say, what to think. What you do know is that you surely will be crying into his pillow by the time this night is over and he’s fast asleep. 
But you can’t cry much. Can’t wake up with puffy eyes. Can’t reveal to him the gravity of your feelings. 
You don’t even remember the moment you realized you loved him. Think you loved him the first time you laid your eyes on him, but you buried it deeply in you—so deeply that you didn’t even recollect your feelings when Yoongi told you, straight away, that this was just a friends with benefits kind of arrangement. Truth be told, this business is the sole kind of relationship you can give him as you hate men. Always hated them. But you don’t hate him. 
He’s not them. He’s different. 
You may have wanted adrenaline and joy tonight, but as you dwell in this state of mind of yours, you slouch deeper into the leather and come to a heartbreaking understanding that you’ll never be happy in this life. 
The night-clothed streets pass by you in soft shapes in colors, disappearing instantly out of your view. And the woodland, the trees and the swan, they disappear, too. Shrouded by the fog of your abysmal sadness. 
***
Yoongi took you to such a small hotel that its luxuriousness pierced your eyes with its glorious light. You thought you were dining and ending the night at his place, but once Yoongi ordered your favorite shots of sweet rum with cocktail cherries, you perceived you were staying here. Perceived he was unknowingly giving you the opportunity to drown your feelings in alcohol as well. 
You almost didn’t wait for him to take his own shot before you downed yours, but hearing the click of his tongue, you stopped midway. And to make sure you did wait, he placed his palm upon your wrist, bringing your arm down onto the table as he ordered your dessert. 
Chocolate ice cream, just for her. Thank you. 
He made everything worse. 
You weren’t sure why you wanted to be so good for him, listening to every order of his that came to his mind. Why you wanted that validation, that praise. You could just do whatever you desired—it wouldn’t scratch your relationship with him. You could be bad and he wouldn’t mind. Hell, you think he would even enjoy it. But why is it your inert yearning to please him so much? It’s devastating—and it’s your personal ruination. Because the more you do things that caress his ego, the deeper the abyss of your feelings for him goes. 
You shouldn’t. Not in the construct of your friendly relations. For the sake of your well-being.
You pry his fingers away and take that shot, watching his eyes grow large in their surprise. You never slide the cherry along with the liquor into your mouth, so once you swallow it, you open it wider and begin to chew it. His brows twitch, his own mouth parting at the sight and he leans back into his chair, completely submitted and enthralled by your act of defiance. 
And it feels good, going against him like that. Living your life by your own decided rules, and not his. 
You don’t hesitate to gulp down the other shot, but it’s not the slight burning of the liquid that gives you the buzz. It’s the way he seems to be completely pleased by your self-will, smiling lazily at you with his head tilted to the side. It propels you to steal his shot, too, and the brief facade of his pleasure collapses. A dark tendril of concern lines his eyes and those brows that twitched furrow, casting a dusky shadow over those slits. 
Now he’s aware of it, the tornado that spins within you. But he doesn’t know the cause of it, the decadent poetry verses that cover it. 
And he’ll never know—he’ll never read them. Because you’d much rather keep it in secrecy than risk losing him for all eternity. Feelings can be hidden, feelings can wander off, lose their bearings until they no longer remember that your body used to be their home. But Yoongi… he’s a person that you meet once in a lifetime. And losing him would mean that you lost not just your life, but the blood pumping in your veins as well.
It’s wrong, being attached like that to someone, regard him this way. And you’re cognizant of the fact it’s temporary—and for that sole reason, you bask in it. Because your life would be prosaic, and not poetic, if you didn’t. 
That is the motto you carry in your pathetic, but strong heart. 
And the darkness of his concern, it intoxicates you more than the last shot you take. 
The backdrop of dining and chattering people sway, just like your past trees, behind him. Manifestations of foreign lives you’ll never witness twice in your life, that are a part of you today and will part from you tomorrow. Yoongi, in the middle, remains stable. A beacon of light, unmoving, a great pillar of fixedness and steadiness. He peers at you through the thickness of his eyelashes, his aura solemn, no longer playful. Your sighs emit out of you in a constant stream while your eyes roam at everything in motion but him and he seems to strongly, strongly dislike that. 
“What’s up with you?” he asks for the second time around this evening, but the question has a loftier ring of seriousness to it. It passes through you, puncturing you until it pokes out of your back and transforms into a pair of monumental wings. Ones, upon which your feelings are mockingly hung, for his eyes to see, but not to recognize.
And the swaying of your body brings forth wetness to your eyes, for it is an anamnesis of the inner world you lost due to the comprehension of your feelings. 
“Nothing,” you say for the second time around, too. A hefty blanket of silence is thrown across the table, scattered with empty shot glasses that were meant to be shared between the pair of you. Unable to look at him, your eyes drop to them, count them—one, two, three, four—and then your irises wind up at his clenched fist. At the white valleys of his knuckles that are composed only when his fingers are wrapped around a microphone. And the blanket of the silence is warmer than the warmth he has given you—a sweltering layer of heartsickness that you can’t bear. With your drunk brain, you think you should pierce it, as if with a needle, with a response to a question he didn’t ask you. “I haven’t eaten much today, that’s why I’ve gotten drunk so quickly.” 
Yoongi runs a tongue down the inner flesh of his cheek. Ponders the information you have given him before he scolds you. “You didn’t eat and you drank four shots in a row. You won’t tell me what it is, fair enough, but I know you’re hiding it behind the pretense of you being horny.” 
His head swivels to the side, sensing a presence. And he watches as the waitress puts down an ornamental plate of two scoops of chocolate ice cream in front of you. You don’t pay her a second of your time. You set your eyes on Yoongi, on the darkness of his energy that you are ever so slowly and magnetically pulled to. 
Yes, he sees the problem, but doesn’t recognize it. He sees the shape of your wings, but he can’t recognize their color. 
The solidness of his call-out quivers. You’re not sure if you’re hiding it; you’re no longer sure about anything at this moment, but you don’t care. You have to stick to your secrecy, you have to keep your feelings safe and tucked away, no matter how far on the edge of the cliff they are. 
“I’m not hiding anything. I was horny,” you retort, not caring that the waitress is still present, picking up your shot glasses. Yoongi gives you a look while you tip your chin down and gaze at him through your long lashes—just like he did. A taste of his own sweet poison. And then you lift your foot and rest it between his outstretched legs, the sole of your stilettos pressing lightly against his soft groin. 
This is fun. This is the adrenaline you were seeking. Who would’ve thought you would be your own provider of that. 
Surprised by the abruptness of your act, he doesn’t let it show on his face, but his hands drift upwards from his thighs before he settles them around the bridge of your foot. He waits for the waitress to finish her job and, sensing the pressure, she scurries away without asking if you wanted to order another round. 
And in her absence, Yoongi begins to touch you. 
He sails his fingernails from your toes up to the thin strap of your shoe, wrapping them around your ankle. He squeezes your limb once, warning you about something you don’t know, his eyes tiny, tiny slits. Perhaps if you keep up with this, the night won’t end so prettily like it normally does. 
But you don’t believe it. You refuse to. And to be frank, you can’t. 
You shall have your fun. 
“Eat your ice cream before it melts,” he orders like the father he is, pointing at the dessert with his irises. 
You look at it, at the bits of the chocolate bars jutting out of it, then back up at him. “Feed it to me.” 
The slits break, his eyes enlarging. His reaction spreads all across his face—brows curling upwards, mouth parting, his thumb absentmindedly swiping across the skin of your shin, exposing how much he liked your request. Such an intimate place for that to happen. 
Then, he examines his surroundings. Then, he gets up from his chair and sits next to you on the booth, taking a hold of the spoon and your leg simultaneously, hooking it over his thigh. Scoops the ice cream and turns to you, his arm suspended in the air. 
“Open,” he rasps, and your eyes wet first before your mouth complies, opening wide for him. Yoongi slides the spoon into your mouth with expert gentleness, careful not to hurt you, and your first tear of the night cascades down your cheek when your mouth closes around the silver, your tastebuds cheering due to the chocolate flavor that overwhelms them. 
Yoongi, the man that could never disappoint you. Yoongi, the man who has given you more fatherly love than your own father ever did. 
How could you not love him? How could you not want more from the casualness of your relationship with him when he treats you like this? When he prepares a warm faith in men within your chest, a wet soil—out of which the tenderest sprout of joy shall grow? 
The second tear cascades down. The ice cream melts on your tongue. You swallow. 
Yoongi sighs, dropping his hands, the corners of his eyes rounding in an emotion you’ve never seen upon him. “You have to tell me what’s going on.” 
Your wings, swan-like, flutter behind you, ruffling the hair on the crown on his head. “The ice cream tastes good.” 
You brush away your tears, lamenting your foolish mistake, and fold your hands on your lap. Give him a teary smile that you can’t hide and open your mouth for him again. Yoongi doesn’t say anything as he continues to feed you and frown at you, not until another waitress comes and asks if you wish to order another round. His anger is evident in his voice as he turns her down, stating you won’t be drinking any more than you have. 
And again, he makes everything worse when he wipes your mouth clean after you finish the dessert. Pats your head to reward you. 
You hold your tears, watch him pay for you, give him your hand when he leads you towards the elevator up to the room where you’ll be staying tonight. 
Him, completely sober; you, drunk out of your mind. 
He doesn’t let go of your hand, even as you and him stand side by side, the silence as thick as death. You can’t stand it, can’t do anything else but to break it all over again. Though this time, you don’t do it with words. 
You do it with your actions. 
Stumbling on your feet like a freshly-born fawn, it’s only then that Yoongi looks at you. Holds you steady as you move in front of him to face him. He doesn’t swim along the current of all these brown shades of the elevator, but you can see a deep emotion waving through his ice-cold eyes that heat up, melt and droop when you envelop your arms around his neck and press your face against the side plane of his, kissing him there a hundred, a thousand times. You sink your fingers into the hair at the nape, tracing circles along his scalp and Yoongi shudders, breathes evenly against you, and it reminds you of the wind that swept past your woodland—the one that made your trees sway. 
All of that is gone because of your mistake. 
And something tells you that nothing will ever be the same. That something groundbreaking awaits you once these elevator doors open. 
And they open too quickly. 
Breaks your wordless actions that speak your gratitude for his fatherly behavior by gathering you into his arms, carrying you out of the elevator. Doesn’t let your aching feet touch the ground until the snugness of the tiny room welcomes you in. A queen-sized bed, a mirror across the wall that faces it, a round table by the balcony. It would be stifling if you were here alone, but Yoongi, somehow with his domineering energy, enlarges the room—makes it his. 
He empties out his pockets. Phone, wallet, keys. A white lighter and a pack of cigarettes. His jacket follows next, hooking it around one of the chairs, and once he notices your wavering feet, he sits down at the edge of the bed and sheds your trench coat, throwing it over his own jacket. Bends at the waist and takes off your heels, one by one. Only then, when you’re comfortable, does he set you down in the center of his lap. And you realize that the mirror is right in front of you. 
You watch him through it. Watch his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck; watch your own form disappear into the buffiness of his body as his hands begin to roam. His watch glints in the dim light of the room and his own being coalesces, becomes one with the murkiness. 
You want to do that, too. Forget who you are. Forget what you’re feeling. 
Tears prick at your waterline and you let out a pained sigh. Another foolish mistake of the night, one you’re about to pay for. 
“Talk to me,” he begs, a wisp of a tiny whiny weaving into his voice inconspicuously, but you catch it—and it vibrates through you, weakening you. It makes it so much harder for you, his unyielding need to know what’s troubling you, but how can you tell him? How can you risk never seeing him again? 
You remain silent, painfully so. 
Yoongi lifts his head from your neck and stares you dead in the eye through the mirror, chilling you down to the bone. 
“You truly think I’m just a guy you fuck?” he spits, his anger on full, unabashed blast that you should’ve seen coming with your restrained behavior, but it’s better to take his anger than to take his absence—and you shall devour that emotion of his. His question causes a hiccup to ensue in your chest, the secrecy of your feelings leaning over the edge of the cliff. Dangerously, dangerously close. “That you can’t confide in me? You think I’m just gonna fuck you and pretend I didn’t see you cry?” Your eyes dart away, a heavy load of agony settling over your heart, but Yoongi prevents you from looking away. Makes you look at him by grabbing your chin and keeping your head still, facing the mirror. “Is that what you want? You want me to be this kind of asshole?” 
You bite your lip, not knowing what to say, not knowing who you want him to be, not wanting to be in this situation at all. But Yoongi can’t stand your silence. Can’t stand the privacy of your trouble, as if he inertly knows that it has something to do with him. 
He softens his touch, but he doesn’t do the same with his voice. 
“Answer me.” 
You cry out in unnamed desperation, which propels Yoongi to lift your head up to him, so you can look at him—so you can see how much this matters to him. The emotion in his eyes vivaciously thumps, urging you to speak to him. He holds you to him like this, gripping your cheeks with the littlest amount of pressure, sucking in small breaths and you can’t. You’re going to explode if he keeps at it, and you’re going to die.
“Yoongi,” you whisper, tiny cries emitting out of your throat, and it’s almost a cry for help. You bunch up his T-shirt in your trembling fist, seizing the solidness of him like your fear seizes you, and you don’t know whether to run or stay put on his lap like this. You’re appalled about where this is going and you’re certain that the same dead end is impatiently seeking you—
Yoongi shushes you. Averts his hand and caresses your hair down. Kisses your forehead, where he lingers a few long seconds that subdue the expression of your storm. Waits until your breathing evens out, so he can unravel the words swelling in him. 
“Even if you asked me, I couldn’t be this kind of asshole to you,” he reveals against that plane of your face, punctuating his sentence by pressing his nose against yours. And you can’t believe his actions, you can’t believe the kind of affection he’s bathing you in; it lessens your fear, slashing it apart until there’s nothing left of it. “Something is hurting your heart and that bothers me. And what pisses me off most of all is that you think I can’t help you.” 
You sniffle and slide your hand upwards to his neck. Try to memorize every inch of this paintwork that your life is graced with as tomorrow won’t have the same paints, the same brushstrokes—
“I’m not gonna fuck you. If you want to be touched, I’ll touch you, but don’t think for a second you’re coming tonight, not if you won’t talk to me,” he murmurs and you gasp, lowly, your wings slumping limply.
The promise of him fucking you was your only salvation for tonight. You gaze up at him with wide eyes, your mouth falling agape, unbelief clutching you at the intensity of his stubbornness. 
And you want to know the meaning behind it. 
“Why?” 
He scoffs, kissing your cheek as if you were a baby he’s cradling, and you can’t take it anymore. You untangle yourself from his grasp and stand up to your feet, your back against the mirror. Yoongi peers at you disapprovingly and then he shakes his index finger at you. Your legs mimic the same movement, trembling, weakening at that. 
“You need to be taught a lesson,” he says and flattens his lips, pauses before he opens his mouth again, but you stop him, despite how much you like it. 
“No, Yoongi. Why are you treating me like this?” 
He props his knuckles against his thighs. A powerful, powerful stance. Curls his lips around his teeth. “Like what?” 
You reflect him. “Like I’m something more.” 
Yoongi chuckles, humorlessly, at that. You spewed it out so rapidly that you don’t realize what you said until he lets out that noise that returns the drum to your sensitive parts. And briefly, as if you uttered something stupid, you grow smaller and smaller—until his following words change your life once and for all. 
“Because you are and because you always have been,” he rasps, the corners of his mouth downturning for a split second, exposing his own secrecy that brings you to your knees. They scruff against the white carpet, stained by time, and Yoongi’s eyes flash with light to see you in this position. 
Your heart hammers with more life than it ever had, with a kind of adrenaline it never felt before, and wetness clouds your vision, misting this situation in a cloud of disbelief. Your lungs fail you, shuddering underneath his hard gaze, and they swell greatly when Yoongi clasps your face in his hand, the one that pointed at you so fatherly, so devastatingly. 
“You’re not just a girl I fuck and I know I’m not a guy you fuck. What we have is irreplaceable, what we do has always been something more, beyond the label we gave it and I regret it,” he lets out, a pained sigh—just like yours—wafting over your features, and Yoongi leans over, propping his elbows on his knees, his other hand joining your face, fingers gripping your hair on each side. “I should’ve treated you more properly, with respect. Take you out on dates. Get to know you. Wait before you let me touch you… because that is what you deserve. You’re not a girl to mess around with. You have a dignity that needs to be taken seriously, that needs to be respected and I wish I had done that. I wish…” he trails off, clicking his tongue in ultimate regret, and you break. You break, break, break. Sob in his hands that hold you so steadily, that give you life, adrenaline and a new meaning to your whole being. Suffocate under his watch, the earth-shattering notion that this has changed the course of your trajectory of your relationship with him forever constricting your throat. “I wish I had allowed myself to court you like you deserve. I wish I had been better mentally, but I’ll make everything right if you want me to. If you want me as much as I want you, I’ll make it right. I’ll try my hardest.”
Your own words, your heartstrings tangle up in a complex manner. Your tongue twists, your speech held back, and you have no control over what comes out of your throat. You’re crawling through a limbo that has no end and each movement you make, the way back gets erased. You need to keep going before it swallows you, but you need him to lead you. You need him inside your skin, inside your heat, inside your mouth. You need to be connected to him in a way you’ve never been connected to him before. You need his breath in your lungs—and your attachment to him bursts in flames. 
Sated, elated, magnificent. 
“Fuck me and make me yours, Yoongi.” 
He sucks in a breath as if he didn’t expect you to accept his favor. The light in his eyes soaks his irises in wetness and his mouth trembles in a tender emotion before he smashes it against yours. And within that lip lock, the swan in you is reborn. 
A baby swan, learning how to sail upon this new, new river—needing her father more than ever before. 
The kiss is hard and the kiss is catastrophic. Yoongi moves his mouth against yours, sucking every bit of your old life out of you to fill you up with newness. Lifts you up and sits you back on his lap. But the kiss is too brief and you soon perceive that his anger hasn’t been shunned out. 
Wet and blue flames lick over his black pools. 
“Not until you tell me what’s bothering you. What I said still applies.” 
The zipper slides down, the straps follow suit—and your silk is ripped away from your body that Yoongi turns over and moves to his preferable position, cradling you sideways like a child. And there—as he gives you a once over, studying the red lace of your lingerie, the swell of your breasts, the little valley of fat upon your tummy, the ruination of your panties and the stickiness of your thighs—there you realize that he’s as punishing you as much as he manipulating you into telling him. 
And it’s as arousing as it is bad. 
His free hand begins to roam while the other one holds you close, wrapped around your back, preventing you from running away. It ghosts over your breasts, causing your spine to arch into his palm and his throat to emit a delicious groan that drenches your panties. His fiery hand ventures down, his tongue gracing you with little praises of how beautiful you are, and when he reaches the V-line of your private parts, he discovers how much his deep voice and his touches affect you. 
He lifts his fingers and catches them glistening in the orange light. And this time, he doesn’t plunge them into his mouth. No, he sinks them inside your own. You swirl your tongue around them, coaxing that throaty noise of his that makes your hips buck up. Your tangy sweetness stupefies you and your so-loved woodland is remolded by that intimate act. By your connected gaze that could start a foreign war and bring the world down. 
“Suck on them,” he orders, and you comply. Hollow out your cheeks, make sucking noises as you find everything you ever searched for in his eyes. Stability, warmth, a father. Switch, cutely, between sucking them and dancing your tongue around them. His index and pinky fit just right between the elongated clefts of your cheeks and he coos, grows hard underneath you, kisses the tip of your nose, onto which he whispers: “Such a good little girl.” 
You moan and he reacts so trenchantly fast, withdrawing his fingers and using them to slide your panties to the side, placing them on your clit and not moving. 
“So swollen,” he comments, kissing you for a beat of time without closing his eyes, without missing this moment. “I like it when you’re like this. Swollen, dripping and so horny for me. Like I’ve never taken care of you before.” He glides his fingers down, past your lips to your hole before going back up, rooting on your throbbing clit before starting over. He etches desperation into your veins, stirs your butterflies to madness, and you breathe heavily. “No one will ever see you like this. No one, you hear me?” 
Your nod is automatic, thoughtless, and he’s pleased to the core. Enough that he begins to massage circles on your clit, your wings fluttering, no longer limp, but full of zest. And he can sense it—and it touches him so much that he deepens the pressure while the circles remain agonizingly slow. Your body writhes. Yoongi smirks down at you, grins fully when you clutch the nape of his neck and make little noises into his T-shirt. And just as soon your vision begins to blur and you reach the cusp of your orgasm, he stops.
“What’s hurting you?” 
He reciprocates your feelings, so you have no reason not to tell him. It’s more of a problem with your speech. You’re so fucked out that you can’t speak. 
Yoongi waits for a few seconds before he spanks your pussy. Maneuvers you so you can look at yourself in the mirror, your back against his chest, and he collects your arousal while he pins back your thigh, drifting all four of his fingers along your femininity, stimulating you and punishing you at the same time. Then, he lets you see your slick trickling out of his digits. 
“Look how wet you are, don’t you want to come?”
He’s a dark figure behind you while you are a small creature, spread wide, drooling, dressed in a sinful shade of red that doesn’t indicate her purity, whose smeared red mouth leaks loud, whiny whimpers when he sticks one of those fingers inside your heat, adding another one right away once you accommodate around him. He fucks you with a force that reverberates throughout your whole body and his name that pours out of your mouth like a prayer is a cry for help all over again. He pumps his fingers and pulls away, edging you in such a sinister way that drives out your tears. 
He worsens your condition—like he invariably does. But the rapidness of his pace, it unlocks your mouth, it untwists your tongue, and you begin to babble. 
Incoherent words, nonsense noises; sounds that blossom in volume when he withdraws ultimately, pushes the lace of your bra away from your breasts and kneads them with wet fingers. 
And you erupt, at last, when he flicks your nipples. You flood his pants-clothed thighs and knees, your slick streaming all the way to the carpet. And the river continues on with his words.
“I know you want this cock. I know you want it deep in you. But you’re not getting it if you don’t tell me right now what it is you’re using me to forget about,” he whispers into your ear, tweaking your nubs, his hands descending down your body and pinching your clit. You cry out, the aftershocks of pleasure dizzying you, his manipulation technique in full effect, and you’ll give it to him. Because of his cock, because of his affection. “You have three seconds. One, two, three—”
“I love you,” you confess, screaming it out of your lungs, and his eyes enlarging and his mouth parting in shock is all you see before you’re thrown on the bed.
Before your panties are ripped in half and flung behind him. 
Before your pussy is eaten and fingered in a way that makes you come in four heartbeats. 
Yoongi’s skilled tongue flicks your clit, his fingers curl in that special spot that bespeckles your vision with the stars of the night sky beyond the hotel room window. And you don’t latch onto the fact you’ve drenched him with your juices until he straddles your thigh, arches over you and kisses you with love-drunkenness, his fingers sliding back inside. 
And he doesn’t start fucking you until he confesses something, too. 
“I love you, too.” 
His digits drill you, his eyes pierce your soul and your orgasms are countless like this, not bound to time, not bound to anything at all. You squirt on him, bathe him in the newness of your relationship, cleansing off the old. And then he’s inside of you, murmuring reassuring words against your mouth about how that shouldn’t be troubling your heart. And you cry, you sob, you scream, overtaken by it all, your mouth numb by his constant hard kisses and if you ever belonged to him in the past—you didn’t. Because at this moment, as he stuffs you full of his cum, you’re interwoven into his DNA for all eternity. 
One that he nurtures as he holds you in his arms and asks you about how long you’ve loved him. And he in return tells you that he loved you the moment you first had a taste of what he could give you—laughter, guidance, and orgasms. All from the first date. 
And when you kiss him for the last time before sleep steals you away, you know that you’ll never lack adrenaline in your life ever again. As long as you’re with him, you’ll be on the receiving end. And his unchanging promises will make you look forward to each day, your batteries charged and green—like your blooming woodland.
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𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: tkslovechild , @jjk7k , @parkinglot-nights , @bethvar , @Sexytholland , @yoongibaybee , @crystaleah ,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan , @euphoricmyth , @jungkoock , @cinmmongirl , @hoseokkie-caeks , @kam9404 , @fr0ggieth1nk .
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