#some heavy real life stuff has occured

[sinclair-wax-fan]

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[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Top Spies Part 3/8

This chapter is so good, I'm really setting you up🤭🤭

Ruben and Reader are super spies, who have to pretend to be a married couple on vacation as a co-signed mission. A enemies to lovers fic, very sweet and funny!

Enjoy!

You woke up to somthing heavy pressing you down against the matress. Somthing heavy and warm.

"Ruben, get off me."

So he was a heavy sleeper. Not a very good trait for a crime fighting agent.

"Ruben please, I can't feel my legs."

A low grunt was the only sign of life coming from him. Trying to stirr him awake only made it worse. Ruben's grip around your body tightened as his face snuggled into the fabric of your shirt, which by the way, was starting to rise above your hips, revealing more of you than you ever wished for Ruben to see.

Suddenly there was heavy knocking on your hotel door.

"It's the hotel manager!" The voice behind the knock said. A female voice.

"Ruben, somone is..."

You had to say no more. Ruben's grip around your was gone and so was the weight of him. The knocking doors woke him up as if he had selective hearing.

"I'm sorry to disturb you this early Mr and Mrs Moreno, but it is very important!"

"Wait here." Ruben said, faster than you to get up and out of bed. His face looked sprung woke, his hair pointing in every direction. He ran a hand through it on his way to the door. You were right behind.

"I told you to wait in bed." He frowned.

"I'm not your real wife Ruben, don't tell me what to do."

He shook his head but stretched to open the door, revealing a tall woman dressed in suit and tie.

"Good morning Mr and Mrs Moreno. I am sorry to disturb your sleep this early in the morning, but I have received some very urgent information about your stay here at Resort de la Martinez.

"What information?" Ruben said, a hand held behind his back.

Who sleeps with a gun strapped to their sweatpants, you thought. Either way, the woman did not look the slightest intimidate by Ruben's lack of hospitality, the opposite really.

"If I may introduce myself Mr and Mrs Moreno, my name is Beatrice Sanchez the manger of this resort.

"Yeah, and what do you want?" Ruben frowned.

"My boss has requested to invite you to stay at his villa as his personal guests."

Ruben looked to you and you looked to him. He turned back to the woman. "I'll have to discuss this with my wife, thanks."

The woman lunged forward, preventing Ruben from shutting the hotel door in her face. "I'm afraid there won't be much of a discussion. My boss insists that you and your wife be his guests at the villa. He is very thankful for what you did for his nephew the other night."

Again, Ruben shot you a puzzled look. The boy who's life he had saved at dinner turned out to be the nephew to one of Portugals most infamous druglords.

"Our staff will have your things escorted as soon as you're ready, the woman, Beatrice, said. She bowed her head, leaving you and Ruben with no other option.

"What do we do?" You asked Ruben as he shut the hotel door.

"Call Captain Harlow. Tell him that there's been useful developments in our mission and that we need more equipment."

"More equipment? For what?"

He smiled. "Surveillance."

********************************************

"What now?" You asked.

Within days you and Ruben were moved into a lovely Spanish Villa at a private section of the resort. You had staff catering to you at all hours of the day and a car for you to use during the reminder of your stay. Although the offered luxury was tempting, you and Ruben stuck to your mission and spent most nights in the streets bugging the entire resort with cameras, microphones and movment sensors. During the day you were pretty much free to do whatever, most suspicious activity occured during night anyway.

"Let's go to the beach." Ruben yawned, stretching his arms above his head.

"The what now?"

"The beach. People need to see us do normal stuff together, otherwise they'll suspect that somthing is off."

He had a point. You hated that he had a point.

"Fine. Just give me a minute to pack my stuff."

"No need. Just grab a towel and take your clothes off. "

"Excuse me?"

Ruben grinned. "Didn't you read the signs on our way up here?"

"What signs?"

"There's only nude beaches around this private section. No bikini's allowed."

"What? That's ridiculous. "

"Those are the rules." He shrugged.

"Ruben, I'm not going to..."

"I'm joking." He chuckled.

You sighed in relief, tossing your bikini top his way. He caught it with one hand, twisting the fabric between his fingers before handing it back to you.

You had gotten to know each other very well, during the days you spent together. Contrary to your beliefs, Ruben could crack jokes. Lame jokes. However, some of them made you chuckle.

"I am going to the beach though." Ruben said. He had been down there every day since you moved to the villa. For some reason he was convinced that Alejandro Martinez kept a submarine near the Island. The best place to look was near the ocean.

"Then I am going to enjoy my day playing golf."

"You play golf?" Ruben questioned.

You grabbed your gloves and cap from your suitcase. "I'm a former junior champion, if you must know."

Ruben said nothing, although he looked impressed.

"Have fun." You said once the two of you went your separate ways.

Ruben walked to the beach as you took the car to the resorts own private golf course.

You stepped onto the lush green grass, clubs slung over your shoulder and your sunglasses perched on your head. You hadn't played golf for years, but this vacation/mission in Madeira actually allowed you to take up the sport that you loved so much.

As you made your way around the golf course, you couldn't help but notice the admiring glances of the other golfers. You were used to this kind of attention when you were younger, but today there was one man who caught your eye in particular. He was a tall and handsome stranger with piercing brown eyes and a charming smile. As you played your respective rounds around the course the man and you kept crossing paths, and he made a point to flirt with you shamelessly, despite you fake wedding ring. He seemed to be completely unfazed by the fact that you were married. In fact, he seemed to be drawn to it, as if the forbidden fruit was all the more tempting because of it. At first you were taken aback by his forwardness. You had never been one to encourage such behavior from strangers, and you certainly didn't want to risk anything that could potentially intrud the mission that you and Ruben had. However the man kept approaching you, forcing you to tell him off.

"Is your putt shot as awful as your pick up lines?"

The man laughed with his whole face, making him even more handsome.

"Is that a challenge?" He said.

You shrugged. "It's not a challenge when I know I'm gonna win."

The man looked to his caddie, nodding his head as to say that he was impressed. "Pepe hand me my putt." He ordered.

The caddie brought him his club, exchanging it for his iron seven. You stood ready to go, with the last hole within reach. You swung the club with ease sinking the ball right away.

"Impressive. " The man applauded. "If I sink the ball first try I'm taking you to dinner."

You smirked. He was slick, too slick for his own good. Successfully sinking the ball in the whole, the man turned to you, sporting a complement smile. "I guess dinner is on me. How about the restaurant near the marina?"

"Great, my husband and I will meet you there at seven."

The man laughed but stretched out his hand to shake yours. "Pleasure playing with you...."

"Y/N." You smiled. "Y/N Moreno."

"Alejandro Martinez." He said, causing your hand to go lump in his grip.

"Y...your...him."

"The owner of this resort? Yeah that's me."

But he was so young. Younger than you thought he'd be. He looked to be around fifty years old, but very fit for his age.

"You and your husband....you're staying at the villa with my family, no?"

"Um...yes."

You had a bad feeling about this. Alejandro Martinez was never known for spending much time at his resort, but here he was, enjoying a round of golf with you.

"Than we shall all see you again tonight." He turned your hand and kissed your knuckles. Heat rose to your face as you pulled away.

You couldn't wait to report all of this back to Ruben.

[steamberrystudio]

03/12/2023

Hey everyone! Time for the bi-weekly tumblr update for Steamberry stuffs!

Summary

Finished editing Chapter 5 (WSC)

Decided an additional chapter was needed to fix pacing/plot stuff.

Received some new BG art (WSC)

Worked on the GS lore book including adding profiles and short stories

Ramble

Okay so in my last update I was in the middle of editing chapter 5 and was nearly to the start of chapter six in editing Asher's route. I finished up chapter 5...

At that point when I was looking ahead, I started feeling like I wanted to add in a transition scene to move between Chapter 5 and Chapter 6.

As I started plotting out this scene, one of my ideas took on a life of its own and I realised that it might be better to interject a new, fleshed out story incident that would allow me to slow the pacing as well as flesh out the setting and universe a little more. This incident would also let me tie into some earlier events and connect them to something that occurs in chapter 6, also foreshadowing the chapter 6 incident.

 Ultimately, this became too much to call a "scene" and I decided to branch it off into a supplementary chapter (IE a chapter a bit shorter than the others and meant to be released along with another chapter.

That is what I've been working on since the last update.

This chapter has now served to set up multiple important things.

And is currently 17000 words long (it's going to end up closer to 25k by the end I think. There is a pretty significant story branch that happens at this point based on a specific player choice (That is or is not available based on other factors). If the choice is available and if the player makes that choice, it leads to an entirely different flow of events for a substantial portion of the chapter. That's what I'm currently working on writing.

I have it plotted out in a very detailed way and just have to write it.

Chapters with heavy branching are always a bit of a doozy to write and the WSC chapters are pretty long in general (the longest chapter is 62,000 words right now). So yeah.

Adding new content is still a part of editing I suppose. At least sometimes. I was so excited to cut 4000 words of content in chapter 5. 

Then I added 17000+ more. So.....

That sounds accurate for me. 😱

I've been having a lot of health struggles the last couple of weeks mostly related to chronic fatigue and pain. That, in addition to some really irritating "real life" stuff. But things are still moving forward.

Current word count is 440,000 words.

Regarding the GS lore book - I've been adding character profiles to a "people" section and have also been working on some of the short stories/drabbles. It's close to 300 pages at this point. 💪

Other Stuff:

As usual, I have received a completed BG and sketch, acquiring the game environments at a steady pace.

Upcoming Weeks:

This is getting into a busy time of year so I have a lot of real life distractions even apart from HEALTH. ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 Progress always slows a little for me during this period since we have a lot going on.

But here is the plan.

Try to finish adding the profiles to the lore book. (Noooot sure I will. There are still a lot to go and the formatting for them is tricky. And I'm alternating between adding profiles and finishing writing a few side stories I've had ideas for for a while)

Try to finish chapter 5.5 for WSC

That's all for this week. There should be on more update here before the end of the year. See you then! 💪💪

[sharenadraculea]

Some thoughts on Zukos scars in Natla: First of all, it will never look the same as in the original series. Period. Because one is a animated show and the other is life action. Things that work in animation don‘t necesarelly do in real life with real actors and make-up. But I agree, it is much smaller and more meh in the life action.

Second, there are a lot of reasons why this could be the case. Maybe the producers thought a bigger, worselooking scar would scare people away. In which case they hopefully hear the criticism and change the design for the other seasons.

But there could also be practical reasons. I‘m no expert when it comes to special-effects-make-up, but I know that it can get insanly timeintensiv and kind of costly. I could imagine that it just isn‘t feasible to have one of your main actors spend hours and hours getting his make-up done every day you need to shoot scenes with him, both for production-reasons (time constraints, productivity, etc.) and the actor himself. Also I could imagine that wearing intense scar-make-up isn‘t super pleasent and that the actor himself wished to go a bit simpler on it. Maybe he also has sensory issues or allergies, that make that kind of make-up difficult for him to wear.

It‘s also possible that it would make filming more difficult, like limiting the actors mimic a lot or beeing too easily damaged in more action-heavy scenes. Again, I‘m no make-up expert, but I could imagine a lot of issues occuring. If someone of you knows more about this kind of stuff, maybe you could add some information

[bookshelfdreams]

📒

I say this flattered and with nothing but affection but I have never had that many ideas in my life 😅🙈

But okay. You'll get the one that is more than just a vague concept, in that I have actually written some words for it (even though it'll never be finished). Contains: Ghosts and blackbonnet. Also cw for mention of suicide.

So imagine this: Ed is a world-famous author of horror novels. He's a gothic icon, got famous as more of a storyteller (he used to do live events that were half readings, half theatre performances; used to pull all sorts of tricks to make it seem like the venue was actually haunted. To this day, people who are into parascience cite his shows as evidence that ghosts are real). But lately - well, he's not been feeling it. His readings are boring now; he still does them sometimes, big live events, but he's no longer allowed to genuinely scare the shit out of his audiences. And he hasn't done one in years anyway. He sold movie rights a couple of times, and what Hollywood produced made his skin crawl but not in the fun way.

His manager is always on his ass about doing shows, doing more pr (Izzy keeps scheduling interviews for him where he just knows he'll be asked idiotic questions about his "heritage", and "There sure are a lot of queer characters in you novels, Mr Teach", and honestly just thinking about those makes him want to hang himself in front of Izzy. A little.), about how his writing needs to be "more mass compatible". All Ed wants to do is write weird, avantgarde, creepy bullshit. But he can't even do that because he's been having writer's block for months.

Sometimes it feels like he never knew how to write at all.

And then there's footsteps in his attic.

Ed spent the last few hours laying on his couch, staring at the TV; he'd turned the sound off at a commercial block and didn't bother to turn it back on.

Which is how he's able to hear the steps, slow, deliberate, heavy, like the world's most inconsiderate upstairs neighbours is testing their new wooden clogs at 11:30 at night.

Problem: Ed lives alone in his house, the attic is his workspace and there's no one in there.

This one incident could have been chalked up to Ed being mostly asleep, but things keep happening. His half-full glass of really nice brandy spilled with no one in the room. The laces of his boots tied together for some reason. Cabinets left open when he knows he closed them. Etc. Honestly not the most imaginative stuff.

And then there's the dreams.

Ed keeps having vivid, detailed dreams. In them he's in a body that's not his and that he has never seen, and keeps living out scenarios from a life entirely foreign to him, but everything feels so real. It gets to a point where his waking hours sometimes feel like they're the dreams.

In short: Ed is definitely being haunted. By ghost!Stede, of course.

Now Stede, in this scenario, owns a used bookstore. Or well, it's more of an antiquity store that has some books too. Or, if we're being completely honest: Mary threatened divorce if Stede kept cluttering up their house with his "collections", and this is becoming a serious problem, Stede, and where do you even find all this stuff? What on earth makes you think a fucking - chicken skeleton is appropriate kitchen decor?? (It's a pheasant, actually, and it's from 1875!)

Long story short, it got a bit heated (Mary did most of the shouting, and also the word hoarder was used which Stede thinks, is entirely unfair), and Stede agreed to put things into storage.

Mary divorced him anyway.

Which, all things considered, was probably for the best.

And now that he had all his books and little oddities inventoried and neatly packed away, it occurred to him that it really was a shame to keep all this fascinating stuff in a storage unit to collect dust. Wouldn't it be fun to be a shop owner? That way there'd be some turnover and he could keep collecting stuff without it ever running out of space!

He ended up renting out a little store in the old town, called it "Revenge: Books and Antiquities" even though it's more his own personal Wunderkammer. And also, he doesn't know the forst thing about running a store, but that's what employees are for, right? Haha.

(a/n: if I were the kind of person who makes pinterest boards there would be so many for Stede's shop. I see it before me and it's the coolest.)

But the Something Happens. I'm not sure what - a robbery gone wrong. An accident. The horrible part of me says, botched suicide. And Stede ends up in a coma.

So that's the setup. Half is Ed trying to answer questions like: a) Are ghosts real? b) If yes, how do I get him to stop haunting my ass c) Or maybe, I should find out who the ghost is. The ghost never leaves me, always has my back. I can rely on the ghost. This relationship is getting intimate. The ghost has seen me cry. I can tell the ghost things I have never told to anyone, and trust that I won't be judged or that my secrets will be held against me. Maybe the ghost is the best friend I ever had. d) Is the ghost single?

While Stede is trapped in an inbetween-state, not quite alive, not yet dead, slowly forgetting everything: his parents voices, his children's faces. Forgetting what it was like to be alive, to have a body, to move through the world a physical entity. The longer he stays like this, the less he becomes, and maybe that's better, maybe if he waits long enough he can just disappear.

Maybe if he forgets he ever was a person at all, that won't be so bad.

But there's Ed, who speaks to him like he is real, and Stede isn't sure anyone ever has, not even when he was fully alive.

So. It's all very aesthetic, very vibes-based, with little actual substance and I'm probably never gonna write it but I like thinking about it :)

[variousqueerthings]

hiiii sorry to bother you with this ramble but i've been watching cobra kai mainly out of curiosity and the ups and downs i have felt when watching this show haha

i don't want to give this show a hard time, but it's so...yeah. of course i should've expected that going into the show, it's the reboot of the one movie from the 80s everyone and their mom knows of course it's not going to have the most philosophical questions but like....it both intrigues and enrages me in sooo many ways. Having just watched the sequels for the first time I was very surprised to find what it had to say about the cycle of violence and the somewhat unconventional masculinity in Daniel and...the showrunners seems to forget about all of that?

They seemed to sort of get it with the first two seasons where Johnny/the kids who walk into Cobra Kai walk out impacted in a way that the narrative doesn't see as rewarding which is really interesting! Only to...forget that? Once heavy metal starts playing, that's the cue that tells you "Oh yeah this is where the cool stuff happens! You should be rooting for them!" and I don't. I just kind of. sigh and let the scene happen

Oh and don't even get me started on how the writers seem incapable of writing the kids without having them in romantic relationships. I know they're in high school but like. It's tiring seeing these kids get together, then break up in two episodes -__- but that's just my thing with media

Ok one more thing cause I'm gonna keep rambling on and on: I really enjoyed Daniel taking Robby on as his student and just watching this kid have some sort of stability and guidance in his life was really nice so it was cruel of the writers to just rip that away (in my opinion)

Sorry for this long ramble, this show has definitely confused me but is somehow interesting enough to keep on watching

Can I just say I am somewhat enamoured that occasionally an anon will wander into my space and give me a little update on their various cobra kai and/or karate kid watches, makes me feel like we're all in this together.

And onto the message itself: everything you're saying is correct. Cobra Kai is a silly show, it's a show with many many flaws, it's a show that not only at times contradicts TKK character-building, but also its own emotional and thematic build, it's been my little "puts on clown suit and nose" show for the last couple of years, and it's one I'd never technically recommend, but for the fact that I am delighted by a great deal of it + the fandom (on tumblr -- venture into some other corners and you're reminded that the actual target audience is middle-aged straight guys who kin Johnny and think there's nothing deeper than "Daniel was the real bully" takes) has been a source of a lot of fun.

It was something that helped me during the pandemic + introduced me to some lovely people (including someone I have travelled to another continent to meet irl!)

What does this have to do with your message? Technically nothing, I just need you to know that I am both incredibly biased about my emotions around this show, because of all the real life stuff around it, and that I was very forgiving of it for quite awhile, up until s5 confirmed that yeah, the narrative that it seemed to be building up to (in its own flawed way) was uh... simply not occurring anymore.

Now I've moved past the stage of "oh okay, it's bad bad," and gone into "here's what I like," mode -- with no small degree of kvetching of course.

The way that I watch this show is on the basis of "take what you want, leave out the rest." Sometimes I'm not a fan of this approach, because it can leave out what actually works in favour of popular fanon headcanons (that can also make people who aren't into them feel excluded from cliquey spaces that dictate The Truth). But if the writing isn't up to snuff, I think it's only right to take a sledgehammer/scalpel/tool of your choice and Frankenstein that thing into proper shape!

The show has good bones -- the bones of The Karate Kid movies, and the actors (old and new) who are really into playing their roles and put a lot of work into it -- and it has good parts in its story too.

As for the rest *rolls up sleeves and gets'a'hammerin' and fixin'*

[the1975attheirverybest]

I've been reading your stuff and, I love it. But, sorry I just don't have much experience, but can I ask a general knowledge question about sex? I could probably google it but this feels like a safe place. Feel free to not answer. Is aftercare something you do/supposed to do only after like heavier stuff (edging, BDSM...) or generally after having intercourse?

Sorry if I made this weird.

Hey, babe 🩷 thank you for being here and for reading. I realllyyy appreciate it 🥹

Please feel free to ask ANY QUESTIONS! Not weird at all!!

So….yes and no.

Aftercare is generally highly encouraged after any sexual encounter between two people. It’s just that, in most relationships, it’s kind of unintentionally “built in” to a couple’s post-sex dynamic/ interactions. So, like, usually, when two people have sex, afterwards, there’s a cuddle, a little chat, an “I liked when you did/said x, y,z” or like “I’m gonna clean up now” signaling the end of spicy activities and a return to normal. In certain situations, or if a couple is feeling especially romantic, they might even shower together or do something fun afterwards. As a way to extend the connection or bond that they initiated during sex and to kind of “go back to real life.” Yes?

This is why a lot of people (women for the most part but I’m sure it happens to certain men as well) feel kinda shitty when their partner finishes, then rolls over and fuckin falls asleep without like checking in, properly cuddling them, or doing any de-brief or aftercare stuff. They may not KNOW that this specific thing is called “aftercare” and this is what it involves, but will often say “would be nice if my partner bothered to kiss me/ hug me/ get me a glass of water etc etc after sex.”

The reason that it’s made more explicit, labeled, and emphasized in BDSM relationships is because BDSM takes the vulnerability and delicacy involved in all sexual activities into a whole new level by involving stuff like power exchange (when someone literally has power over another persons body), pleasure, pain, being restricted or tied up, being degraded, “punished,”having new experiences, etc. so it’s extra hard on both your body and your mind. Meaning, by the end of a BDSM session, your body and brain are flooded with all sorts of hormones like dopamine, adrenalin, etc. which put your body on high alert and make things feel so intensely good. When the sex ends/ comes to a stop, your body needs to level out these hormones and the “coming down” from that feeling of intensity kinda feels like a sugar crash. It’s the same shit feeling that you get when your partner has sex with you then falls asleep without cuddling you but like 10 times worse. In the BDSM world, that shitty feeling is often referred to as “drop” (a drop in mood, in hormone levels, etc). So it the submissive experiences it, it’s referred to as “sub-drop” if the Dominant experiences it, it’s called “dom-drop.”

And such a drop can last anywhere from a few hours to like a couple of days. It feels a lot like depression and for people who already struggle with depression, it’s more likely to happen. This is why a healthy BDSM relationship should NOT view aftercare as optional. Especially if you engage in really heavy stuff. Like after spending time physically hurting your partner, tying them up, or calling them names or telling them they’ve been bad or that you’re angry with them, it’s important, when the session is over, to re-assure them that you love them, respect them, wouldn’t wanna hurt them, as well as tends to their needs. Like if any cuts or bruises occurred or if they need help or something. Same goes for the Dom. They’ve just spent time beating the shit out of someone or saying some aggressive shit that they wouldn’t normally say in everyday life. They’d feel like a monster if they didn’t also get the chance to then express their appreciation for their submissive and take care of them and assure them they’re safe/ not going to get hurt etc.

This was kinda ramble-y, I’m sorry, lol. I hope it clears things up though. Let me know if not! 💕

[autistic-crypt1d]

Season 1 SG-1 Live Blogging:

It's been a while since I've watched this but I've also seen it over 20 times at this point so I doubt there will be any surprises. Who knows! Plus I finally have refreshed context with the movie.

Updates:

- Children of the Gods pt 1&2

- ahh the black side bars

- I still dont know why the tarp would be moving before the gate even starts dialing, once it starts and everything starts shaking and the tarp goes flying yeah

- AHHHH THE FIRST LOCK OF THE SHOW

- AHHH THE CLASSIC GOA'ULD MUSIC

- the suits are so silly and top heavy I love it

- TEAL'C

- how are these trained military personnel only managing to hit the center base playe of their armour lmao, some real stormtrooper shooting right there

- god damn the acting of the dude who was screaming and shooting was very bad and the effects were so off

- THE BLOOD PFFFFT

- I'm sorry but the gold lipstick they put on Apophis is so goofy

- I forgot how agonizingly slow and boring the original intro is compared to the music

- JACK!!!!

- PFFFFT. THE TELESCOPE SHOT

- I know I've done pretty much nothing but make fun of the show so far but that's because the first season is rough ok, I do love it though

- ah General Hammond, little does he know he's about to recruit one of the 4 biggest pains in the ass of his life

- if the gate was buried, how does Daniel get the tissue box?

- I wonder what they've been doing at the SGC this whole time anyway, I mean until this stuff happens they'd believed the gate only went one place and theh believed it to be destroyed soooo

- also I literally just watched the movie, but I don't remember seeing a DHD over there so I'm assuming that also just wasn't figured out yet

- ah fug Carter's cringy intro. I love her so much but this is awful and the actress herself said so too (thank god she did and fought for her to not do that shit again)

- you can see him fall head over heels for her like right there and then though

- I do find it pretty interesting how the gate travel sequence animation changes eventuallly

- also, what's with the fact they still get all frosty and shit initially but soon it becomes a thing they do no problem, step through the other side skipping and shit

- DANIEL!!!

- the entrance is in like a crater now, funky

- "Captain Doctor you're gonna love this" PFFFFT

- see I know everyone loves Sam & Jack, but everytime I see Sam and Daniel nerding out together they look like they're about to literally makeout

- oop here come the snake lads

- BRO GET YOUR FINGERS OUT OF HER MOUTH YOU THIEVING ASSHAT

- why is her name spelled Sha're here but Sha'uri in the movie?

- everyone huddling up hugging Daniel makes me wanna cry 😭

- it's just occurring to me how weird it is that the Apophis has set up shop in what looks to be a European style castle of all places

- this whole thing with the women being chosen as Apophis's bride is horrifying and I hate it and the nudity was entirely unnecessary. We did not need to be shown women being assaulted and violated and exposed to understand how horrible he is. We really didn't

- pffft you tell him Kawalski

- ugh I fucking hate the scene where Sha'uri is chosen

- wait did they cut out her being fully exposed? Thank god dude, nothing against her I'm just really uncomfortable with nudity

- poor Daniel, he just wants to tell people about the cool stuff

- aaaaaand now everything is greek?

- Apophis is just copying everyone's shit

- PFFFT that was the most ungrateful exit ever

- oop, one of the snake helmets lights are out

- y'all Jack having to lose Skaara after already losing Charlie is just so OUCHYYYYY

- they really just let that helmet be lights out

- "you are the first I believe can do it" AHHHHHHHHHH

- pffft Daniel and his crooked ass glasses

- "I have nowhere to go" "for this, you can stay at my place" god I love them so much I wanna scream

- it's so weird hearing Sam call him "Dr. Jackson" and him call her Captain

- Y'ALL THE MUZZLE FLARE IS SO BADDDD

- after watching the movie, the look Daniel gives Jack after he tells him to go is so much more intense

- ah hell Kawalsky getting infected is a big ouchy

- Daniel and Sam in sync AHHHHH

- Teal'c handing over his weapon to Sam no questions asked 😭

- HELL YEAH JACK, YOU FIGHT FOR YOUR BOO

- The Enemy Within

- pfffft the little exchange of looks between Jack and Kawalsky in the control room

- if matter can't reintegrate, what's the slamming sound? always wondered about that

- Jack's turtleneck shirt thing is so cute

- YOU STAND UP FOR OUR BOY JACK, YOU TELL EM

- this episode hurts my heart so much

- Daniel is so pretty in the og outfit tho, so baby girl

- Teal'c finding out that he's found the Tau'ri is so emotional y'all

- "then you are their greatest hope, and mine." I'M NOT TEARING UP YOU ARE

- everyone is such babies here it makes me wanna cry

- I'm sorry but the way he just tosses Carter is hilarious

- Charlie's in this show are cursed, first Jack's kid, then Kawalsky

- YOU TELL HIM GENERAL

- Teal'c is such a trooper man, he's just letting them use his symbiote (the thing that keeps him alive) to test anesthetics to save Kawalsky

- the way Jack is so soft with his men arms my heart, this military man without hesitation holds Kawalsky's hand and I love him for it

- they've really got zero lights in half these sugery shots

- ah hell, the false hope here HURTSSSS

- I hate Kennedy so much, LEAVE

- poor Teal'c, he thinks he's made a friends and gets attacked instead :(

- Walter buddy, you tried and I'm proud of you

- YES TEAL'C, YOU STAND YOUR GROUND YOU WONDERFUL BADASS

- "I need two ranking officers to override" never gets old

- Jack having to give the order that kills his friend is AHHHHHHH

- "he was your friend." "My friend died on the table." HELP

- I'm gonna cry, the team together on the ramp for the first time ahhhhhhhhhh

- Emancipation

- I HATE this episode

- poor Carter y'all, she's put through the damn wringer in this

- Daniel I adore you but shut tf up you're not the one being asked to shut up and cover up under penalty of violence or death

- DANIEL, SHUSH

- Jack you aren't helping

- JACK. DANIEL SHUT UP. PLEASE.

- the fact that this is the first mission they go on as a team is ASS. Yes they do good shit at the end but still.

- you know what, no one is making me watch this and I don't want to soooo SKIP

- The Broca Divide

- this is episode 4???? Damn I remembered this beingf a bit later for some reason, but I feel like that with most episodes tbh

- it gets a bonus for introducing Dr. Frasier

- Daniel is the only one with self preservation rn, who tf goes through to an alien planet that is so dark the malp couldn't see a damn thing

- good point, why tf doesn't the malp have a night vision mode

- pfffft Daniel's little wave of submission

- ugh god I love the intro music so much, 10 seasons over a dozen times and I still love it

- DANIEL, SHUT IT. IT DOESN'T MATTER IF THAT'S HOW STUFF USED TO GO, IT'S NOT HAPPENING NOW

- pfffft Daniel's stuttering

- Teal'c catching that punch like a BADASS "general I would prefer to not hurt this man" AHHHH

- DANIEL AND THE TURTLENECK SHIRT THING

- SG-1 is just so pretty

- uh oh locker room scene

- "why? I mean no"

- Dr. Frasier!!!!!

- poor Daniel :(

- Janet calling Teal'c "Mr. Teal'c" is so cute

- ahhhh Daniel is so sassy I love it

- I'm sorry but Daniel helping to restrain Jack is hilarious considering how easily Jack absolutely MANHANDLES him in this show

- "I am not Lucy" XD

- ah yes, one of the many episodes where Daniel is carried around like he weighs 2 lbs

- the first person he calls for is Jack 😭

- The First Commandment

- this episode is pretty wild honestly, plus like, Sam lore???

- Connor immediately collapsing once he knew he was safe with SG-1 is just so AHHHH

- "this tastes like chicken" "what's wrong with it?" "It's macaroni and cheese"

- "I guess I've always had a soft spot for the lunatic fringe"

- I love how Daniel and Sam are always yappin together

- "we should have stopped her" "we would have failed" pfffft

- YEAH SAM GET HIS ASS

- just shoot him in the leg Sam!!!!

- every single time they try and show people that Teal'c is friendly is cracks me tf up

- Teal'c reaction to his drawing being complimented is so cute help

- wooo! Revolting against false gods!!

- Cold Lazarus

- first planet we've seen that looks different than Earth which is cool

- the blue of the sky with the yellow ass sand hurts my eyes

- Pffft Daniel not knowing if he's using the radio right cracks me up

- I wonder why Jack keeps all that stuff in his locker, like having some photos at work yeah, but the wedding ring and notes? Why not at home?

- I'm sorry Jack/Sam shippers, but every time I see Sam and Daniel working together being all nerdy and completely ignoring the concept of personal space, AHHHH

- oof this episode is so awkward and painful

- pffft the random side plot of Teal'c learning about Earth through the tv is so funny to me

- SAM AND DANIEL ARE SO CUTE HELP, the way they sprint into Teal'c room together all excited, AHHH

- Sara's dad is so sweet about what he thinks is Jack and what he's going through

- y'all, entity Jack holding Charlie's things and rocking, OUCHIE

- god Sam and Daniel are so chaotic together, such mutual enablers

- PFFFT everyone's faces when the real Jack comes through the gate XD

- the fact that literally none of this is ever brought up again is really annoying

- The Nox

- I love the Nox

- Daniel trying to get information from the Nox and failing terribly is so funny

- Apophis sucks

- the costume design for the Nox is so good

- I can't tell if the green in the fire is a chemical thing they did or a greenscreen being behind it

- Daniel covering Sam up 😭

- PFFFT TEAL'C WITH A DAMN LOG

- Brief Candle

- I hate this episode honestly

- the fact is O'Neill gets drugged and raped and no one talks about it

- skipping

- Thor's Hammer

- Jack diving to try and save Teal'c 😭 I love those two so much

- I love Gairwyn, she's fantastic

- the fake thor looks so goofy 😭

- ahhhh I love the Unas lore so much

- I love Jack and Teal'c so much y'all, the way that they stand side by side through anything, the ultimate duo

- The Torment of Tantalus

- ahhhh this episode is so good!!!!

- them realizing that they weren't the first to go through and someone actually got stranded out there??? CHILLS

- CARSON!!!!

- I've always wondered wtf this man ate while he was there all this time

- y'all that conversation between Earnest and Catharine, AHHH

- BRO, THE WAY SAM AND DANIEL ARE SITTING??? No personal space with each other

- "this is a true universal language!" Ahhhh!!! I love Daniel nerding out

- Sam with rolled up sleeves AH!!

- Bloodlines

- where tf did they get the priest gear??

- ahhhh Bra-tac, love that guy

- Alison fron Eurekaaaaa

- Fire and Water

- this episode makes me so sad noooo 😭

- Sam crying over Daniel AHHH

- I NEVER REALIZED TEAL'C WAS IN SHORTS

- seeing Teal'c participate in this human ritual of mourning makes me so emotional ahhhhhhh

- ah yes the first of many times Daniel gets kidnapped and tries to communicate with a captor he cannot understand

- General Hammond is the best for letting it slide that Jack obliterates his car window

- I wish we saw more alien races like this fish guy, things that are further from human

- frustrated Daniel is so funny

- Teal'c's expression XD

- I wonder why Nem never went to Earth to search for his mate, or why he didn't go with her

- Hathor

- ugh this episode. Hathor irks me so bad

- "sex, drugs, and rock and roll?" "In a manner of speaking yeah" pffffft

- why tf does Jack do air quotes like that

- see now Daniel is literally getting raped in this episode too and no one comments on this. This is what I hate about this show. Just because it's not violent doesn't mean it's not.

- man the reverse shot is so bad

- the Goa'uld larvae look like ground beef in that tub

- wtf even set the tub on fire

- why tf is the only response to Daniel's trauma "ew" :(

- Singularity

- oh god the Cassie episode 😭

- the way Sam and Jack are with kids in this show is so wholesome

- AHHHHH this Sam and Daniel moment is so good

- the way he looks at her and talks to her BROOO

- if they're so platonic why does Daniel always stand a centimeter from her hm???

- "who said that?" THE WAY HE'S LOOKING AT HER????

- Jack running in that damn hazmat suit is so funny

- the way Janet and Sam cover Cassie AHHH best moms ever

- SHE STILL HAS HER TAG ON BROOOO

- Daniel's little happy slaps XD

- Cor-ai

- ouchy episode

- everyone trying to gently tell Jack they don't believe he's a good choice to be the voice is so funny

- Teal’c’s trembling lip AHHHH

- Daniel’s speech, Y’ALLLLL

- the relationship and dynamic Teal’c and Daniel even after what happened to Sha’re is something else

- “What’re they doing?” “Preparing me for my death.” “Oh”

- Enigma

- oh wow the set and effects on this one is ROUGH

- I just remembered that the Tollen dude, Narim that has a thing for Sam is the same actor who plays Simon, Elizabeth Weir's husband

- Shrodinger!!!

- ugh Mayborne

- YOU TELL HIM GENERAL!!!

- "whoops"

- ah yes, the first of many iconic times they use Daniel as a way to avoid court marshaling XD

- Lya!!! Yay!!!

- the Nox are so cool, I wish we got more of them

- Solitudes

- oh boy this episode

- I feel like this had to be the beginning of the Sam/Jack ship right?

- "why didn't you say something?" "I was afraid you'd try to put a splint on it" I love his sass so much

- AHHHHH I LOVE DANIEL SAVING THE DAY BY BEING A NERD

- I don't understand why she wouldn't think "maybe there's something wrong with the Earth gate after what happened, let me try another world"

- LET'S GO DANIEL!!!

- "what happens when you try to dial your own phone number? Wrong person to ask." PFFFFT

- I think it's kinda hilarious she just assumes it's an ice planet because that's all she can see XD

- the fact that she goes back to him so they can be together at the end AHHHHH

- Tin Man

- I hate this episode, it irritates me and I'm skipping it

- There But for the Grace of God

- ahhhh this episode stresses me outtttt

- why must you always touch everything Daniel

- "oh I hate it when this happens" how many times has Daniel been left behind on a planet????

- his face when he comes through and people are aiming guns at him XD

- Politics

- god I hate Kinsey

- honestly, not a fan of flashback episodes

- "Because what is right is not measured by strength" DAMN RIGHT TEAL'C!!!

- god I still can't get over that scene of Teal'c standing on the gate ramp, blocking Kowalski's path

- Within the Serpent's Grasp

- something I'm just now really thinking about is, why is Apophis the only Goa'uld that did the whole wife and kid thing? No other Goa'uld that we've seen does that

- bro the way Daniel is looking at Sam when they're discussing the C-4 timer and rescuing Jack and Teal'c???

Season 2

[inkareds]

De Selby Part 2

Matt Murdock

2 / 10 - Unreal Unearth Event

nav // event masterlist // marvel m.list // ko-fi

✧.* word count: 2k ✧.* genre: fluff // sfw ✧.* warnings: this is mostly all from Foggy's perspective though still in 2nd POV

"I wanna kill the lights // I want run against the world that's turning // I'd move so fast that I'd outpace the sun // I wanna run so fast, I beat the dawn // Before the dawn has come, I'd block the sun // If you want it done // Let all time slow, let all light go // I don't need to know where we begin and end // I'd still know you, not being shown you"

Foggy knows 3 things to be true about his best friend Matt Murdock, but after meeting you, he thinks he's knows 3 more things to be true.

Omg omg omg I'm running late on this event alkjsdhflkahskdfhadsf next one's Modern Aegon Targaryen II. As always lyric analysis and symbolism are explained at the end of the fic!

Foggy Nelson has been friends with Matt Murdock since the two were in University. 

Throughout those years, he has learnt a lot of things about his blind friend. 

One, Matthew Murdock was a devout Catholic who was also the infamous Daredevil of Hell’s Kitchen. 

Two, he was a damn good lawyer who has a penchant for sweet-talking the jury, the judge, and women. 

Three, he stubbornly thinks he alone should deal with his own heavy burden but help everyone else’s. 

Call it the Catholic in him, the ever-giving part of him, but Foggy always hated that part of Matt. He hated seeing his best friend push himself to his limits all day and night. On both his thankless jobs as a pro-bono lawyer and the self-appointed protector of Hell’s Kitchen. 

He’d come to the office, baggy and tired eyes hidden behind his red glasses, sore and raw knuckles covered beneath layers of bandages, and bruised and battered body cloaked by his clothes and a charismatic smile. All before shrugging off any concern Foggy and Karen would throw his way. 

Brushing off any pleas from the two of them to take a break. Just a single day or night off from either of his lives would do him so much. Yet, he relented. 

Worked his body till the point of passing out and even a little bit after that. 

He wanted to help everyone, years of hearing people’s wails and cries and not being able to do anything about it has made him want to repent for it all and do good. 

But a thought crossed Foggy’s mind, and he’s sure Karen’s as well, repeatedly after the two found out about his other life. Matt Murdock was there to help anyone that he could, yet who would help him? Better yet, who would he let help him? 

Then, one day, Matt came to the office with a bright smile. 

Foggy remembered Karen asking what got him so cheery in the morning, only for him to shake his head and go back to work. Before directing her question to Foggy who shrugged, not knowing either. 

Then the day after Matt came in with a bright smile as well. Then the day after, then the day after, then the following weeks, and so on. 

There were some days where he obviously wouldn’t be so cheery, but the days that he was would outweigh the days he wasn’t. 

By the end of the 3rd month of this new phenomenon occurring, both Karen and him were over it. They had planned for drinks after work in Josie’s and it was there the two confronted him about it. 

“What’s been getting you all smiley these past few weeks?” Karen asked, trying to smoothly get the truth out of the man. 

Matt only laughed and looked away from their two prying eyes. 

“Really you’ve been all weird and stuff.” Foggy continued. 

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” Matt shrugged. 

For as good as Matt was at smooth-talking anyone he came across, for some reason, when it came to two of his closest friends. He really just can’t lie. But for whatever reason, he seems to be very good at dodging questions thrown his way. So that entire night neither of them can get a real answer from him. 

If only they had known that it wouldn’t be a few weeks later that they’d get their answer. 

Matt went into the office that day more frazzled than usual. That in itself was enough to ring alarm bells inside Foggy’s mind but then throughout the day, Matt was clumsier. He was lost in thought more often than not, completely spacing out when Karen was talking to him about a case they were thinking about picking up. 

When, heightened senses, Matthew Murdock, fully bumped himself into the side of the table, Foggy finally asked what was wrong. 

“What’s happening now?” Foggy asked, exasperated. 

A great silence followed afterwards as both Foggy and Karen waited for Matt to answer. Matt slowly looked up to meet their gazes, like a deer in headlights he took off his glasses and ‘stared’ at them. 

At this point, both Karen and him were getting rather worried about Matt. They’ve never seen him look so, dishevelled. Of course, aside from any time he was battered and bruised from a night of daredevilling. 

“Are flowers too much for a first date?” He broke the silence. 

The moment the question left his mouth both Karen and Foggy felt like they were being slapped across the face. 

“You’re a mess the entire day because of a date?!” Foggy exclaimed, brushing a hand through his hair. 

“It’s not just a date, I need to make a good impression. I don’t want them to think this entire time we’ve been friends I’ve just been trying to hook up with them!” Matt tried defending himself much to the humour of Karen. 

“It’s still just a date, man! You’ve probably gone on hundreds of them at this point! Why are you nervous now?!” 

“Ok, ok, enough,” realising the two would continue arguing if she didn’t interrupt, Karen finally cut him off, “Elaborate.” 

Then came the explanation and in a moment’s notice everything became clearer. A few months ago Matt had bumped into you in Josie’s playing pool alone. After offering to play with you, the two of you had easily jumped into conversation. 

He didn’t know why but by the time the night ended, the two of you had so much fun that Matt had walked you home, promising to meet up with each other when the sun was up. A few days later the two of you bumped into each other again in a park. 

It was like fate had set up something for him, yet you were the one who took the leap. You were the one who asked him for his number so the two of you could continue talking. As friends, nothing more. 

But after months of talking and having fun, he asked you out. 

And now he was currently stressing out about whether or not flowers were too much. Much to the entertainment of both Karen and Foggy, who after a lot of teasing, actually helped him get ready for his date. 

One date turns into two, and two turns into several. And his status of dating slowly turned into a relationship. 

Foggy hadn’t met you at this point but he did notice something. He doesn’t think Matt noticed and if Foggy were to bring it up he was sure Matt would disagree. 

As Foggy watches Matt fall deeper and deeper in love with you, he also sees something else. Something different about Matt Murdock. He couldn’t pinpoint it yet but he knows there is something. 

Then one day, Matt had asked whether or not both Foggy and Karen wanted to meet up with you for drinks after work. He said you had asked to meet the two of them and Foggy saw the way Matt tried to hide his slightly shaky hands. Foggy realised this meant more to Matt than he first thought and so with an easy smile Foggy of course accepted the offer. 

“NO! You don’t understand! He was gone that night! I don’t think he remembers making out with that poor girl!” Foggy burst into laughter as he finished telling a story from when both he and Matt were in uni. Causing both you and Karen to burst into even bigger hurls of laughter. 

Matt shook his head, pretending to be annoyed, though the large grin on his face said otherwise. 

“Okay, maybe let’s stop talking about the girls I made out with back in uni in front of my partner.” Matt stated causing Karen to hum in agreement. 

“Mhm, yeah, we don’t want them getting jealous,” she chuckled wiping the side of her mouth from the drink she almost spilt on herself. 

From Karen’s offhanded statement, you quickly shook your head. 

“Oh, no! Don’t worry about it. Trust me, I won’t get jealous. He’s in a relationship with me, not those random people he made out with.” You chuckled, “It’s funny to hear what Matt was like before I even knew he existed.” 

Foggy watched as a warm smile crept into your expression as you fondly gazed towards Matt. 

The four of them continued on with their conversations, Foggy telling more embarrassing stories about Matt. Much to his dismay but the enjoyment of you, who lapped up the stories, even those surrounding his flirtatious persona somehow everyone in law school fell for. 

“Hey, I’m not surprised, I mean, I fell for it.” You shrugged when Foggy made a comment about how he was shocked at how many people actually liked Matt. 

When you excused yourself to go to the bathroom, Karen roughly nudged Foggy. 

“You’ve got to stop talking about Matt’s flings.” She stated; making Foggy actually realise how much what he’s been talking was about how much of a non-commital ass Matt was before he met you. 

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t realise.” He quickly apologised towards Matt. 

“Don’t worry about it, they don’t care.” 

Foggy remembers furrowing his brows at this statement, clearly not believing Matt. 

Yet when the night came to a close, both you and Matt separated ways with Karen and him so that Matt could walk you home, and as a goodbye, you hugged both him and Karen. All before raving about how much of an amazing time you’ve had with them and how incredible they were. 

He didn’t know what to think about your enthusiasm, much less about your openness. After having to deal with the likes of Elektra, Foggy seldom knew what to feel about Matt’s dates. 

But something inside of him told him that this time was different. 

And different it was. 

As time went on, Foggy finally could pinpoint what it was about Matt that was changing. 

From the way, Matt would ask either Karen or him more often when he needed someone to take over a case he was doing. Or coming into work with more sleep than he thought was possible for someone like Matt. 

Matt was changing. 

He was changing because of you. 

Foggy only started really paying attention when the realisation struck him. Then the evidence started laying itself in front of him. 

He’d still leave almost every night to go be Daredevil but from the mornings Foggy would see him walk into the office, he realised that Matt was more vigilant. He didn’t take hit after hit like he used to, didn’t let the crooks fuck him over just because he thought he deserved to feel the pain, to feel blood dripping down his skin. 

No, Foggy realised, Matt was being more careful. Because this time, Matt wanted to come home to you. 

Slowly, Foggy Nelson realised three new things about Matt Murdock. 

One, he was madly in love with you, wickedly so. So much so that he was nervous before his first date with you. 

Two, your lust and enthusiasm for life were slowly rubbing off on him as his stubbornness to give up and fight for justice was rubbing off on you.

And three, he had a warmth to him that he didn’t have before. 

In De Selby part 2, Hozier references several more of De Selby’s theories that I want to incorporate. The first is De Selby’s version of the Atomic Theory, he theorises that because we are all moving constantly, when we are in the frequent presence of something in nature we slowly become one being, the other one is he theorises that there are some roads in the world that are fixated to go on one direction, so when we go on a different direction we are brought into a new plane of realisation. Matt falls in love with someone almost the opposite of him, the Reader places their heart on a silver platter, they’re an open book, they’re straightforward and very trusting. They never lie and Matt can’t comprehend their unwavering trust and kindness to people. In the same way, the Reader doesn’t understand Matt’s incredible tenacity and stubbornness.

[reyesmarconi]

Charles’ fighting skill is top notch, and it does only get better with time. He’s always been drawn to it, just as he’s been drawn to free running/parkour, and handywork, and stuff he can do with his hands and his entire body. It’s what he’s, doubtlessly, best at. It’s his strongest suit, and he’s kind of addicted to it. It’s something that will always be part of him.

From a young age, he found himself both constantly getting into trouble (since he was seven, and only getting badder from then on) and having to endure his father’s volatile temper (this one solidifying since he was four), and he found a coping mechanism through fighting. Initially, there was no skill what so ever, but he’s a damn scrappy kid, and not one to play by any rules except those that ensured his own survival. Stuff like going for the eyes, groin, ribs, neck, throat, knees, feet, fingers – is stuff he has always done. Using his environment and melee weaponry is stuff he has always done. Sure enough, he still lost fights, got his ass handed to him on more than one occasion, got bruised and battered, but it was nothing he could not handle. He had to learn how to take care of himself after such encounters, and he did. His body could take abuse it had taken before and to this day, he can take some really heavy hits to his face, and even attacks to the groin – stuff that would curb or completely knock out lesser fighters.

He found out about Krav Maga through a training center around his early teens, just around the same ages violence was becoming more and more frequent an element in his life. With whichever savings he had, and some luck, he managed to get in the class – one of the few secrets he managed to keep from his father, albeit not without cost (that he was willing to afford). He was drawn to this system above other because Krav Magá, more than a martial arts or a sport, is for real, life or death combat, and much of their principles are stuff he already accepted into his mindset (threat neutralization, maximum effectiveness in the least amount of time, usage of your surroundings.) and taught him valuable elements of situational awareness (identifying threats before they occur and the psychology of combat, stopping armed attacks.) Over time, he showed himself a very capable student, and he advanced through the P levels with ease. He became a G1 green belt in his twenties, and at 32 he holds a G4 brown belt, with all the legitimate certification for it.

In synthesis, his personal style is defined as the principles of Krav Maga (in itself inspired by aikido, judo, boxing and wrestling, as well as one of the inspirations for MMA) melded with his real life experiences and bare knuckle boxing. Given that underground rings became recurrent since he hit 20, his style has been developing and adapting over the years to fit his needs, his particular height, weight, and capabilities. It is a blend of hard (kicks and punches strategically made to break bones) and soft techniques (those that are more graceful, and use the person’s strength against them), with a direct, distinctive focus on soft, which make for a very seamless style that can sometimes get hard to fight against – especially if he’s in the mood to wear you out or play you with footwork. He dodges, dances, takes your hit, your kick, curbs it, and immediately proceeds with an attack in return, and won’t stop until he has neutralized the threat. In real settings, this might as well be death, when knockouts are not enough or one goes too far.

Overall, Charles strengths are experience, melee, flexibility, speed and stamina/pain endurance. He does not lack, by any means, in strength, but it is not his focus. He’s a tough contender, but can be beaten or otherwise he can’t win in some circumstances. Charles fights for survival, and if it’s made clear that you fight to kill, and escape is easier than killing you, he will escape – he will always go for the option that ensures he gets to keep his life. Otherwise, if you’re a skilled, experienced fighter yourself, well, then it’s a matter of what’s going on at that given day, provided you’re on his exact same level or above.

In his spare time, he also likes to practice Bōjutsu, with a bo staff, and is very skilled at it for show and combat, but prefers it for fun.

Since the E black belt levels in Krav Maga are invitation only, time tells if he gets that rank. He remains a G throughout his forties. It’s by the time he’s early fifties, that he becomes an E1, after a little over 30 years of accumulated work. He took the test in Israel – he was already a certified instructor by then. Knowledge includes but is not limited to:

More complexity and control of all cumulative training

High degree of fighting ability and efficiency

Close range techniques

Fighting a trained adversary

Advanced edged and impact weapon defenses

Multiple attackers armed and on the ground

High impact mental preparation

Firearm defenses

For 1st dan, the IKMA’s current curriculum is seven (single spaced) pages of techniques including 49 specific topics along with the entire curriculum (yellow through brown belts) at the examiners’ respective discretions. All techniques must be performed from both the left an right outlet stances. A candidate must be able defend against all manners of attack from both the right and left sides (i.e. left handed weapon threats and attacks.) Within these topics, there are more than 150 techniques and variations.

[here2bbtstrash]

look down on me like that - 8 (explicit)

genre: slow burn enemies to lovers hatefucking coworkers au, smut (w some eventual angst that is no longer eventual 👀)

pairing: yoongi x reader

summary: your asshole coworker min yoongi has made it his personal mission to ruin your life.

word count: *deep breath in* 15.3k

contains: explicit sexual content and discussion of some dark themes .....yyyyyep 🤐 includes past-tense discussions of the d3ath of a parent (reader's) and su1c1dal ideation (yoongi's) so please tread carefully loves 💜 some references to alcohol per usual, and plenty of confusing feelings and piss-poor communication..... i'll leave the rest as a surprise 👀 but here are your smut-specific warnings: kissing (‼️), nipple play, clit stim, a single pussy slap lol, fingering, cunnilingus, squirting (🤭), unprotected sex and pulling out (💀), orgasm denial of sorts, but it's cool bc reader has multiple orgasms, ok byeeeee~

A/N: welp..... i'm off to enter witness protection in case you all decide you hate this chapter 💀 not really but heuhjkghkfjgdsf dear god am i nervous to post this lmfao. hope you're ready for some ~answers to questions~ and a whole lotta callbacks to earlier chapters idk why i shoved them all in ch8 specifically but here you go. the scene at yoongi's apartment was one of the very first things i dreamt up in regards to this story and it's nuts to me that we're all the way here now 💜 hope you're ready for a little more insight into these two! also baby goth fans don't come for me..... i promise we'll get a better resolution there..... reader and yoongi just have to survive LA first 😩

an eternal thank you to @haliiimede and @monimonimoon for being wonderful betas, and to @nabiolive for the dead parent sensitivity read lmfao I LOVE Y'ALL

read on AO3!

chapter seven | masterlist | chapter nine

~*~

In the morning, you wake up well before your alarm with an inexplicable uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. When it’s clear sleep is a lost cause, you decide to just get up, and you move through your routine slowly. Everything feels distant, not quite real, like it’s happening to someone else.

On the bus ride to the office, you let your eyes drop closed and try desperately not to replay the events of last night back. You should feel bad about the sex on the conference room table, and you do, a little. But your mind is stuck somewhere else.

Rain streaking down Yoongi’s windshield. The silence as he drove, disturbed only by the low rumble of his voice. The way he’d looked at you, and the heavy pause that hung in the air between you, for just a moment, until you’d fumbled open the door of his car and had practically ran back to the safety of your apartment. And his story— he’d told you something personal, with no malice or hidden agenda that you can manage to find, no matter how much you search for one. Something from when he was just a kid, growing up in Daegu.

You’re embarrassed to admit that it never even occurred to you that Min Yoongi might be a person with a past and a hometown and stories to tell. As long as you’ve known him, he’s always just felt like… a menace. A life-ruiner. An inescapable force.

The thoughts follow you as you step off the bus and make your way into the building and onto the elevator. You can’t figure it out. Yoongi could’ve easily left you to suffer in the rain, but instead he did something nice for you, without asking for anything in return. He’d related to you. He’d let you in, barely, but it’s something.

And you have no idea what to make of it.

Polite small talk with Jungkook as you unlock the front doors is a decent distraction, but you wonder if he can tell that you’re not all the way there today. You set your bag on your desk, then circle around to take a seat, only half-listening as he continues to talk.

“Did you stay late last night?”

You swear your heart stops beating. “What?”

He shrugs, like it’s an obvious question. “There’s the big overseas thing today. I’m sure you had a bunch of stuff to prep. Hopefully it wasn’t too late of a night?”

“No.” The word comes out harsher than you mean it to. You’re not quite sure why your body is suddenly doing emotional alchemy, taking your fear of being caught and somehow turning it into anger. “It wasn’t,” you say firmly.

Jungkook makes a face, like he knows he’s touched a nerve but can’t figure out why. “Okay. That’s good.”

You don’t respond— you just try to control your breathing, try to will your heart to quit racing as you start up your laptop and pretend to suddenly be engrossed in it.

“Well,” he tries again after a moment’s pause. “I guess I’ll see you at the presentation thing.”

“Okay,” you answer, your voice a little softer this time, but you’re still too scared to look away from your screen. When you do eventually work up the courage, he’s already gone.

Before you even have the chance to glance back down, like some universal joke at your expense, the front door of the office is pushed open, and Yoongi steps through. Annoyed as you are, you can only be grateful that his entrance didn’t overlap with Jungkook’s question. You probably would have died of embarrassment on the spot.

Yoongi’s usual dark sunglasses are nowhere to be found today, and he’s in nice clothes for the presentation, a button-down and dress pants, his hair styled. He does still have a death grip on a large iced coffee, but that’s to be expected, especially given the fact that he’s in a lot earlier than is typical for him.

It’s only when his eyes snap over to you for the briefest of seconds that you see the dark shadows sunken deep beneath them, weighing heavy on his face.

Yoongi’s gaze moves back to the hallway in front of him as quickly as it alighted on you. You open your mouth before you even understand why you’re doing it.

“Yoongi?”

He stops dead in his tracks and blinks at you a few times, clearly tired, clearly not expecting the interruption. “Yeah?”

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

His mouth pulls into a flat line as he shakes his head. “Nerves. It’s why I don’t do stuff like this. Unless forced.”

You nod, unsure of what to say— or why you even asked. “Oh. Well, uh. Good luck.”

Yoongi lifts his coffee in a parting gesture, then disappears toward his lab without another word.

You try to focus on your work, to shove the interaction to the back of your mind with everything else you’re avoiding, but the screen seems to blur in front of you, until you finally push back from your desk with an exasperated sigh. The emails can wait.

Maybe, you consider, it would be good to stretch your legs. You can head into the presentation room early to set up before everyone arrives, and make sure everything is working for the several hours of agenda lined up for the morning.

Setting your shoulders back, you grab your things and make your way down the hallway. The thought feels like a good idea until you push the door open and encounter a severe case of deja vu.

Yoongi glances up from his laptop at the front of the room, blearily rubbing at one eye with the heel of his hand. “Is it time already?”

You hover in the threshold, unsure. “Uh— I mean, not quite. I’m early. I can go, if you want.”

He shrugs, busying himself with something on his computer screen. “You’ll have to hear it anyway. Can I just run through it one more time?”

You take a few tentative steps forward, dropping your bag and laptop on the table, right where you sat to watch him the night before. The energy in the room feels entirely different now, and your stomach is twisted into knots that you can’t manage to breathe deep enough to untangle.

“Yeah, fine.” You pause, unable to help yourself. “Just… don’t expect the same treatment as last night.”

Yoongi huffs a dark laugh. “I wasn’t.”

Taking a seat at the table, you set about your admin duties and try to ignore the way Yoongi mumbles over his presentation as he taps through his slides at the front of the room. There’s only so much you can do without bothering him, and you fly through those tasks all-too quickly. You drag your bottom lip between your teeth as you glance back up at Yoongi, and then you inhale to steady yourself before you speak.

“Can you turn on the mic?”

His head snaps up, caught off guard. “Hmm?”

“I need to make sure the mic is working.” Yoongi’s gaze flits to the podium’s built in-microphone, then back to you as he presses the switch to turn it on. “Say something into it,” you instruct. “It doesn’t matter what.”

Yoongi’s eyes move back to the microphone, and it’s like you can see the delay in his brain from lack of sleep. You don’t know what you were expecting— maybe a half-assed ‘check, check’, at worst some sexual or smart-ass remark. Instead, he leans in far closer than is necessary, until his mouth is nearly touching the microphone as he whispers into it.

“Sugaaaaa.”

The live demo of the notorious producer tag that intros all of his tracks is so ridiculous, so unexpected, that you can’t help it. You burst out laughing, clapping a hand over your mouth a few seconds too late. “What the fuck was that?!” The question is only muffled slightly by your palm.

Yoongi’s head drops forward, his dark hair falling in his face, and you can see his shoulders shaking with laughter, too. “Sorry,” he manages with a gasp for breath, tilting back up to speak into the microphone, which you can now actually tell is working properly. “I’m so fucking tired, I think I’m going insane.”

You uncover your mouth as you shake your head in disbelief.

The sudden loud buzz of your phone against the conference room table makes you jump, and you quickly reach for it, for fear it might be an emergency text from your boss that needs immediate attention. Your eyes widen in surprise when you see it’s actually from Jungkook.

Presentation thing? Wanna sit together?

You read the words again and again, and a strange feeling rises up in your chest that you can’t quite name. As you stare down at your phone, you hear the distinct sound of Yoongi’s laptop shutting, and then his voice, no longer amplified by the microphone when he mutters to himself, “Fuck it. It’s as good as it’s gonna get.”

Feeling suddenly overwhelmed, you glance up at Yoongi again, then back down at the text. With a final hard swallow, you turn your phone on silent and flip it over on the table, leaving Jungkook’s question unanswered.

The time is close enough now that you get to your feet to prop open the presentation room door, and then your colleagues quickly start to file into the space, filling in the seats around the large U-shaped arrangement of tables. It’s everything you can do to keep your expression neutral as your brain unhelpfully reminds you that Yoongi fucked you on one of these tables last night.

You try to manage something close to a smile when your boss enters with the team from the American office in tow, and you proceed to exchange pleasantries with them and fake laugh at their jokes when he introduces you.

As you’re listening diplomatically to one of them drone on about the flight to Seoul, you spot Jungkook slip in the door out of the corner of your eye, and it takes extra effort to keep the smile plastered on your face. The seats on either side of yours have long since been taken, and you glance over to see his eyes sweep the room before he moves to take an open spot at the far end. 

You watch unabashedly now as he leans back in his chair, tilting to one side to pull his phone out of his pocket, and you can only pray he’s watching TikToks with the sound off rather than checking for a text that’s never coming.

When your manager repeats a question meant for you, your attention snaps back to the group. Sure your smile is nearly a grimace now, you apologize and blame the distraction on needing more coffee, which is enough to earn you a polite chuckle.

Eventually the room takes their seats as your manager moves to the front to start the presentation. You stay focused on copying down minutes as various speakers go through the company’s financials for the previous four quarters, the roadmap for the coming years, and a summary of top-level talent that the label has signed or directly worked with.

The discussion of talent leads smoothly into a quick review of achievements and nominations, and then Yoongi steps to the front of the room.

As he launches in, you can’t get over the stark difference between the Yoongi you’re used to and the one standing behind the podium in front of you. The man with the easy, confident, cocky demeanor is nowhere to be found, replaced with someone who barely looks up from his slides and speaks at a rushed pace, like he’s trying to get the words out as fast as possible. You bite down firmly on your bottom lip and try not to react at all.

He’s nearly halfway done now, and just as you’re thinking he might make it through the whole thing unscathed, Yoongi stumbles slightly over his words. It’s not a lot, a little slip-up that the rest of the room probably didn’t even notice, but you see a momentary flash of panic in his dark eyes. And then those eyes snap up to meet yours, and your stomach drops.

The memory of the two of you in this room, the thought of what you’d be doing to him if you were alone again, the way you could so easily make his voice shake and his knees threaten to buckle with just your mouth— it’s all too much.

You can’t help yourself as the smile you’ve been desperately trying to hide starts to spread across your face, equal parts supportive and indecent.

There’s a beat of silence, not long enough for anyone to think anything of it, and then Yoongi drops your gaze as quickly as he found it. He squints back down at his computer screen, and though he leans away from the microphone, you don’t miss the unmistakable sound of him clearing his throat.

“Excuse me,” he murmurs, and then he picks up where he left off, managing to get back on track without further issue.

You desperately try to ignore the warm flush of heat that creeps up your neck as Yoongi goes through the rest of his slides.

Time seems to speed by in a rush after his presentation, and you barely manage to keep up with the barrage of content. You’re more than grateful when your manager inevitably wraps up the session, reminding everyone to head to a nearby restaurant for a team lunch immediately following.

As the room begins to empty, you take your time finishing up the notes and firing them off to the broader audience. When you finally close your laptop and look up, you realize nearly everyone has left now, though as fate would have it, Yoongi has also lagged behind. He’s standing hunched over the conference room table as he types something into his own laptop.

You try not to overthink it as you hug your computer to your chest and take a few steps toward him. “Yoongi?”

He hums a response, and when he glances up at you, the bags under his eyes are just as prominent as before.

“Are you, uh— coming to lunch?”

He rolls his eyes, like the question is ridiculous. “I can’t. I’m drowning in shit I put off for the last two days.”

His words make you take a step back, and you immediately feel stupid for asking. Why do you even care what he does? “Right. Got it.”

You don’t wait around for him to say anything else, you just shove your laptop into your purse and pull the strap over your shoulder as you head for the exit.

Largely preoccupied with getting away from Yoongi, you don’t pay much attention to your surroundings as you slip out of the room, and you only get a few steps down the hall before a voice behind you nearly makes you jump out of your skin. “There you are.”

“Jesus!” you gasp, whipping around to find Jungkook leaning up against the glass wall of the conference room, his arms crossed over his chest. “You fucking scared me, Baby Goth.”

“Sorry.” He gives a shy smile, nose scrunching slightly like he’s embarrassed. “I wasn’t gonna let you ditch me again. Lunch?”

You do your best to match his smile. “Let’s go. I’m starving.” 

The two of you meet up with the rest of the team at a restaurant well out of your price range, and Jungkook babbles freely as he stuffs his face, seemingly unbothered by how little you have to say in return. The chatter of so many people at the long table is a white noise that you can’t focus on any part of, and Jungkook’s usual comforting presence feels overwhelming today, nearly stifling. You push food back and forth on your plate but barely eat, your stomach uneasy for reasons you don’t want to dwell on.

“Min Suga seemed like he didn’t even want to be up there.” The mention of Yoongi’s pseudonym is enough to snap you out of your haze.

“Huh?” You glance up at Jungkook, your eyes widening slightly, and you force yourself to eat another bite of pasta as he continues.

“I don’t know, he went through it so fast. Guess it makes sense. He hates anything that drags him out of his lab, right?”

You aimlessly twirl your fork against your plate, around and around. When you first started this job, you would have agreed with Jungkook without a second thought. Laughed about it, even. Now you’re not so sure. You don’t want to add to this growing sense of friction, the weird energy in the air, but the words come out anyway.

“He was nervous, Jungkook.”

When you meet his gaze again, Jungkook looks confused, and you instantly regret saying anything at all.

“What, did he tell you that?”

You nod as you take another bite of food to avoid having to explain yourself.

Jungkook’s eyes drift down to the table between you, distant, his brow furrowed like he’s suddenly doing some complex mental math. “When?”

“Last night,” you murmur through your mouthful. “We both worked late. I helped him practice a little.” The explanation was meant to make the situation sound less incriminating, but somehow you feel like it only makes it worse. You hope Jungkook can’t tell how warm your face is starting to get.

When he finally speaks, his voice is low, his gaze still not meeting yours. “I thought you said you didn’t stay late. When I asked you this morning.”

A rush of adrenaline hits your bloodstream so hard it makes you dizzy. “I—I didn’t. It wasn’t that late. Like an hour max. Didn’t seem worth mentioning.” You set your fork down, quickly hiding your hands in your lap so Jungkook can’t see the way they’ve started to tremble.

His only response is a slow nod, and then he goes quiet in a way that’s rare for him. It feels like an eternity of sitting and eating in silence before either of you says another word.

The conversation eventually picks back up again, and when it does, you try to tell yourself you’re just imagining that it’s slightly more stilted than before.

As you and Jungkook trail after the rest of your coworkers on the walk back to the office, you trade a few more polite questions about work-related projects, and then you fall quiet again, seemingly out of things to say. It’s a few stretches of city blocks, and then you see Jungkook’s head tip up, and he outright sniffs the air.

You can’t help but laugh a little, mostly because he looks like a dog, and then you smell it too. The unmistakable aroma coming from the street cart up ahead. You smile softly to yourself as you both slow to pass it, ogling rice cakes and fish cakes simmering in a pan of spicy sauce.

“God,” Jungkook groans appreciatively. “I would absolutely destroy some tteokbokki right now if I didn’t think I’d literally explode.”

“This is what happens when you help yourself to thirds every time you eat,” you chide him with a giggle, and the two of you nod to the vendor before you continue on toward the office. You only take a few more steps before you falter, and Jungkook turns back when he notices you’ve stopped.

“What’s up? Did you want to get some?”

You don’t know what makes you lie. “Uh, no. I, uh— I just realized, I think I left my scarf back at the restaurant. I’m gonna run back, but don’t worry about waiting for me. You’ve got work stuff.”

Jungkook shrugs, like it’s not a big deal. “It’s cool, I can go with you.”

“No, that’s okay,” you say, firmly enough to make it very obvious you don’t want company. Maybe a little too firm, because Jungkook blinks, like he’s taken aback. Your stomach twists with a feeling that you imagine must be similar to having just kicked a puppy.

“Oh. Alright, well. I’ll see you later, then.” He pauses for a moment, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, and then he turns on his heel and keeps walking in the direction of the office. You worry your bottom lip between your teeth as you watch Jungkook’s retreating form until he disappears down the city block.

You try not to overthink the interaction as you retrace your steps to the cart, then head back to the office with a takeout bag gripped in one hand. Thankfully you don’t have to fumble for another lie of an excuse, because you don’t run into Jungkook or anyone else in your straight shot from the entrance to the door of Yoongi’s lab. Quick as you can, you punch in the lock code, then push the handle down and slip inside.

It takes you a minute to process what you’re seeing as you shut the door behind you. Yoongi’s arms are folded on the desk in front of him, and he’s slumped forward, head buried in the crook of his elbow. For a brief moment your heart drops, and then you take a tentative step closer and realize there’s no shake or shudder to his shoulders, only the smooth rise and fall of deep, steady breathing.

He’s asleep.

You close the remaining distance until you can reach out and gently place a hand on his back. “Yoongi?”

He inhales sharply, and you quickly pull your hand away like you’ve just been burned. Tilting his head to one side, he cracks an eye open, mumbling something that sounds like a question but is otherwise fully incoherent.

“You fell asleep,” you say dumbly, and Yoongi slowly sits up with a grunt, his eyes squinting, clearly readjusting to the room around him. He leans back to stretch, and several places in his back and shoulders crack impressively loudly.

“Fuck,” he sighs, voice strained, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “Why are you in here?”

��I brought you lunch,” you murmur, lifting the takeout bag for him to witness. He frowns at it, then up at you, like he can’t quite figure out what’s happening.

“Thanks,” he eventually manages. “You can just leave it. I’m nowhere near done with all my—”

You cut him off before he can finish. “Go home, Yoongi.”

The look of slack-jawed confusion on his face is enough to nearly make you laugh. “What?”

“I said go home.”

His brow furrows. “You’re not my boss.”

“I’m not saying it as your boss,” you sigh. “But you need to eat, and sleep. This isn’t healthy.”

Yoongi huffs a little, exasperated. “That’s easy for you to say, but I have so much stupid admin stuff to get caught up on.” He gestures halfheartedly to a massive to-do list pulled up on his monitor, one he’s barely a quarter of the way through.

Suppressing the urge to roll your eyes, you hum, feigning thought. “If only you had someone who could help with that. Some kind of… Admin Bitch.”

The comment must catch him off-guard, because he outright laughs. “You know, I still haven’t changed your contact name.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Then you should go before I question why I’m being nice to you. I’ll leave a note for tomorrow with anything I can’t figure out for myself. Assuming you trust my ability to do my job.” As if to indicate that you are no longer open to discussing the subject, you shove the takeout bag into Yoongi’s chest, and he wraps both arms around it, still looking entirely dazed.

But to your surprise, he doesn’t fight you, just slowly rolls his desk chair back and gets to his feet. You watch carefully as he shifts the bag of food to one arm, then grabs his work bag and slings it over his shoulder. “I, uh— thanks.”

You wave a hand as if to tell him not to mention it, and then you plop down into his chair and get to work, barely phased by the sound of the door clicking shut when he leaves.

~*~

As you settle in at your desk the next morning, it dawns on you how close the Grammys have started to loom, made abundantly clear by the overwhelming amount of prep you find yourself launched into. You don’t think you look up from your screen once, not even bothering to greet coworkers as they push through the doors, until the muted tap of something being placed on your desk startles you.

You see the cup of coffee first, and when you glance up expecting a pair of Baby Star Candy eyes, you instead find Yoongi hovering at the edge of your desk, like he’s not sure what he’s doing there. You make zero attempts to hide your total shock at whatever the fuck is going on in this moment.

He looks— good. Fresh-faced, like he managed to actually get some sleep, a little less gaunt. Even his expression seems weirdly pleasant, something you might mistake for happiness if you thought that he was capable of such an emotion.

There’s a crinkling sound, and when he gently sets a small wax paper pastry bag on your desk next to the coffee, you’re sure that you’ve overslept your alarm and are in the depths of a wild, ridiculous dream. It’s the only way any of this can be happening.

You blink up at him as you hesitantly reach for the bag, like you’re scared it might bite you.

“It’s maple,” he says as you slowly pick it up and investigate the contents. It’s still warm. “I asked for the most disgustingly sweet thing they had.”

Too overwhelmed, you set the pastry bag back down wordlessly. As you do, it’s only now that your eyes focus on the letters “AB” sketched in black marker on the side of the coffee cup, where a barista would typically write your name.

Yoongi’s eyes must be watching yours carefully, because he huffs a laugh as he sees realization dawn over your face. “Making them actually write Admin Bitch seemed a bit much.”

You can’t manage to find a laugh to match his, can only sit there, shell-shocked. When you look up again, he’s already walking backwards in the direction of his lab, but his eyes are still on you. “I’d tell you not to tell anyone, but I don’t think they’d believe you even if you did.”

And just like that, he’s gone again.

You remain unconvinced that both of his gifts aren’t secretly poisoned, but your desperate need for a fresh hit of caffeine overwhelms any other emotion. Carefully, you lift the cup to your lips and take a sip— it’s not scalding, but still perfectly hot, and your eyes widen as the flavor hits your tongue.

Two cream, three sugar. Exactly how you like it.

Before you’ve even had time to swallow, Jungkook is suddenly rounding the corner from the opposite direction, and you have to make a conscious effort not to choke.

He slows to a stop, and you watch him take in the coffee cup clutched between your hands like a lifeline. “Hey! You seriously snuck out for coffee without me?” His tone is mock-hurt, but you can’t help wondering whether it’s entirely put on.

Your gaze drops back down to the cup. “Sorry, JK. Someone else picked this up for me.”

Jungkook doesn’t pry into your vague statement, but a sinking feeling in your stomach tells you that maybe he doesn’t have to.

~*~

It’s Saturday night by the time your schedule aligns with Jimin’s for a night out, and given that it’s the last time you’ll see him before you leave for Los Angeles, you manage to guilt him into driving. The bar you choose is a shitty dive nowhere near your office, where you’re certain you won’t have to worry about any accidental encounters.

Or any encounters at all, as it turns out. The place is dead.

“I think we’re single-handedly keeping them open tonight,” Jimin murmurs with a grimace as you grab a pair of stools.

The bartender pours you each two shots and two beers, then returns to their side work at the far end of the bar in an apparent attempt to give the two of you some privacy.

It’s only once you’ve had your first shot and are halfway through the accompanying beer that you’re able to speak the words aloud: “I had sex in the office again.”

Jimin glances up at the ceiling, as if asking for strength, and you recount the full story mostly to the wood grain in front of you, unable to look your best friend in the face while you catch him up on everything.

When you fill in the final details, Jimin nearly spits his drink out. “Suga really hatefucked you on a conference table?! I need to go buy some lottery tickets.” He throws back his second shot, and there’s a smug smile on his face as he swallows it down. “God, I love being psychic.”

You shove an elbow into his ribs. “Listen. I don’t know what’s fucking happening anymore, Mochi. Sometimes he’s insufferable but now sometimes we apparently mildly tolerate and are even nice to each other. Like, coffee and a pastry nice.” You smack your hand on the bar for emphasis as you repeat the words. “Coffee. And. A. Pastry.”

“So,” Jimin clasps his hands together as he surveys you. There’s a look on his face like he’s clearly expecting you to draw some conclusion from all of this, but it seems to have entirely escaped you. “What have we learned?”

You drop your head down on the bar with a resounding thud. “We’ve learned that Min Yoongi is ruining my life.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Voice muffled slightly, you groan. “Don’t make me say it louder.”

“No, what did you just say?” You lift your head up to look at him, and his expression is deadly serious, his eyes sharp and focused. “Min Yoongi? I know Min Yoongi.”

You give him the same look right back. “You what?”

“We were trainees together. I— wait, Min Yoongi is Suga the producer? Really?!” He scrambles for his phone and you just sit there, dumbfounded.

“How are you only now telling me that you know him?”

Jimin glances up, incredulous. “Um, hi, because you literally never fucking told me Suga is Min Yoongi?”

You roll your eyes. “Please, surely I have said his name to you at least once.”

It’s Jimin’s turn to smack the bar, and he does so loudly. “Run those tapes back, ma’am! We have always called him Suga.”

“You’re telling me you’ve never even Googled him?!”

He makes a face like the mere suggestion is ridiculous. “I am an adult, with a job and a very needy boyfriend. Your chaos already monopolizes too much of my time.”

The search on his phone loads, and you watch Jimin tap and scroll slowly, mouth dropping open in disbelief. “Min Yoongi is Suga. Wow. I think I need a minute.”

Jimin’s earlier words finally catch up to you, and you finish the last of your first beer before you dare ask the question. “Yoongi was really a trainee?”

“He was,” Jimin confirms, gaze still locked on his phone. “Obviously he didn’t debut either. He left a few months before I did. I always wondered what happened to him.”

“What was he like?” Your voice comes out soft, a little unsure.

His eyes widen, staring off unfocused as he searches through his memory. “I mean, we weren’t super close, he’s a few years older than me. But it doesn’t sound like that much has changed if I think about what you’ve told me. He was quiet, not too personable. Worked hard. Didn’t really seem that close to anybody. I think maybe he had a difficult home life?”

Your stomach drops a little as Jimin pauses, choosing his words. “Like I guess his parents weren’t very supportive. So I think he felt like he had a lot to prove, and had really high standards for himself. But he obviously loved music. Makes sense that he ended up a producer. It’s like me and dance, right?” He picks up his beer with a shrug, staring thoughtfully down at the amber liquid. “Man. Those years were tough.”

As Jimin takes a sip of his drink and then continues on about his trainee days, your head starts to spin. You throw back your second shot in hopes that it might help.

You wish you could go back and unlearn this information, unsay the name Min Yoongi. Because you don’t want to think about him. You don’t want to know that Min Yoongi gets nervous about public speaking, that he likes his coffee iced, that he can’t say no to street cart tteokbokki, that he used to be a trainee, that he worked an unpaid job in Daegu, that he had a disapproving family and never felt good enough and maybe still doesn’t.

Min Yoongi was so simple when you first met him, back when he was a two-dimensional character, the antagonist of your TV show life, your enemy. But now he’s none of those things. He’s a real, flawed, complicated person, and your feelings for him are confusing and overwhelming. And you deeply do not want to think about your feelings. You don’t want to examine them, don’t want to hold them up to the light for fear of what you might find. It occurs to you in this moment that you don’t want to think about anything at all.

With a sigh, you scoot your chair back from the bar, then get to your feet.

“What are you doing?” Jimin interrupts himself to ask as you dig your phone out of your purse.

You’re doing the only thing that makes sense. “I’m gonna go fuck him,” you say, resigned, and then you make your way out the front door of the bar as you pull up Yoongi’s contact in your phone.

It’s only as the line starts to ring that you realize you don’t exactly have a location in mind. Sex in a bar bathroom is an experience you have no desire to repeat, and the thought of Yoongi seeing your shithole apartment makes your drinks threaten a return appearance.

You’re starting to consider that maybe you should just hang up and forget the idea entirely when Yoongi’s voice startles you.

“Uh, hi?”

“Hi.”

There’s a pause as you realize you didn’t actually plan how to have this conversation, and then you and Yoongi speak in tandem.

“I was just wondering—”

“Is there a reason you—”

“Shut up,” you snap, agitated by your own awkwardness. “What are you doing right now?”

Yoongi laughs darkly into the phone. “I’m sorry, is this a booty call?”

“Answer the question, asshole.”

There’s a slight shifting sound, like he’s making himself comfortable. “Nothing. Drinking.”

“Great, same here.”

Another pause, and you swear you can hear Yoongi slow blinking, can see the stupid smirk on his face when you close your eyes. “Would you like to come over, then?”

“Yes,” you answer, trying to sound more confident than you feel, and then you falter slightly. You’re not about to ask Jimin to drive you— you don’t trust him enough to stay in the car and behave, not when he’s been drinking. “Uh, are you by any chance near a bus stop?”

Yoongi doesn’t even try to suppress his snort of laughter. “I’m not. But I can send a car.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you say quickly, trying to think. “I can figure something—”

“Please,” Yoongi cuts you off. “If you’re really calling me begging to get fucked, the least I can do is provide the transportation. Just send me your location.”

“Fine,” you concede, and your voice comes out harsh. “But to be clear, I am not begging.”

He hums a low note, like he’s thinking it over. “Not yet,” he ultimately responds. “See you soon.”

You swallow hard as the call disconnects.

The time it takes for the car to arrive is just enough for you to slip back inside and finish your beer, and Jimin’s eyes narrow with frustration when you’re unable to explain yourself.

“Didn’t you just complain that this man was ruining your life?”

“Yes,” you retort. “And then I thought it over, and I decided that’s my job.” Your phone buzzes with the notification that the car is outside, and you quickly swig the last of your drink. “Bye.”

Jimin’s face twists like he’s holding further commentary back, which you didn’t think he was capable of doing without combusting. “Alright, babygirl,” he finally sighs, defeated. “Call me if you need saving.”

“I always do,” you deadpan as you lean in to press a kiss to his cheek.

~*~

Yoongi doesn’t say anything when he opens the door for you, just nods his head to the interior of his apartment to gesture you inside, letting the door swing wider so you can step past him. He shuts it again as you slip your heels off, and it takes you a second to adjust to your true height difference, the fact that you have to look a little further up to meet his gaze now.

“Want a drink?” is his delayed greeting, and you shrug.

“Yeah, okay. Just whatever you’re having.”

Without another word, he turns and heads down the hallway, and you follow after him, taking in your surroundings as you move further inside. It’s only now that it occurs to you how rich he must be. His place is identical to any one of the swanky, million-dollar Hannam apartments of which you’ve spent thousands of hours watching YouTube tours. You try to keep your expression neutral as you follow him into the living room, but it’s hard not to be impressed.

Yoongi crosses the room to a mini-bar, built into the far wall and softly backlit with inset LEDs. You pull your bottom lip into your mouth as you hover nervously for a second, then finally choose to drop down onto the large, L-shaped couch, setting your purse on the floor next to you.

“Thoughts—” When Yoongi’s voice breaks the silence, you start a little, not expecting it. “—on single malt whiskey?” He turns over his shoulder, and you shrug back at him.

“Never met one I didn’t like.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up, just barely. “Alright.” You watch as he grabs a dark green bottle off the shelf, coating the bottom of a glass with the amber liquid inside, then just barely topping up what must be his own drink. He crosses back to the couch, hands you yours, then drops down a respectable distance away from you with a sigh of effort.

The atmosphere is certainly different from what you’d expected, and Yoongi must be able to tell you’re a little on edge, not sure what to do or why you thought coming here was a good idea.

He glances over at you as he swirls the contents of his glass. “Not feeling up for much small talk tonight. Sorry.”

“That’s fine,” you say quickly. “We don’t have to talk.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you grit your teeth in anticipation of the smug smile, the cocky smirk at your unintended double meaning, but it never comes. Yoongi stays just as he is, slouched forward, his eyes unfocused, like he’s got a thousand thoughts running through his mind at once.

You turn sideways on the couch so you can look over the back of it and out of the large picture window behind you, where the city is alive in a blur of light and color, bracketed by the dark swath of the Han River.

Yoongi’s whiskey is strong but smooth, tastes like the bottle probably cost more than the entire bar-tab you and Jimin rang up tonight, and you sip it slowly. The thought of your best friend sparks something in your mind— you find yourself speaking again in spite of your previous statement.

“I just found out that you know my best friend. Park Jimin.”

At this, Yoongi looks up, clearly stunned. “No shit?” You nod, taking another pull from your drink, and he shakes his head. “I haven’t heard that name in years. How is he?”

“He’s good,” you murmur, the sharp taste of alcohol lingering on the back of your tongue. “He’s really good. He actually just performed in the concert I took Jungkook to.”

Yoongi pauses, glass halfway to his lips. “What group is he in? For someone in the industry I am atrocious at keeping up with this shit.”

“Oh, he’s not, he’s just a back-up dancer now. He never debuted.” 

Yoongi nods slowly. “Well. Makes two of us.”

Your chest starts to tighten a little— you’re weirdly nervous to talk to him about this. It feels like uncharted territory. “I can’t believe you were a trainee.”

He leans back, resting his free arm over the back of the couch, fingers tapping idly. “I can’t either, most days. It was a long time ago. Feels like it happened to somebody else.”

Torn between deep curiosity and not wanting to pry, you stare down at the liquid swirling in your glass and leave it up to Yoongi. To your surprise, he keeps talking.

“So what did Jimin tell you about me?”

The unexpected question makes you laugh a little. “Uh… I don’t know. Said you sound like you’re still the same as you were back then. Keeping to yourself and working a lot.”

You don’t know if you should repeat everything, but the liquor loosens your tongue. “He said your parents weren’t very supportive.”

You glance up to see Yoongi shake his head, matter-of-fact. “They were not. So you can imagine how well they took it when I quit.” Your heart sinks at the thought. “Probably put a chip on my shoulder, if I want to be introspective about it. Explains the workaholic tendencies, maybe.”

He takes a longer sip of his drink this time, chasing his swallow with a grimace as he stares at the floor. “It’s funny. I always feel like I have to do better, even now. I get obsessed with work because it’s better than being depressed. And most of the time it feels like there’s nothing else to do anyway. I just work myself to death because it’s my only reason to stay alive.”

Your stomach drops sharply, and you can’t help but look over at him as he continues, feeling thoroughly unprepared for this sudden insight into the inner workings of Min Yoongi.

“It doesn’t even matter what milestones I hit, the fame, the fortune, whatever. I’m going to the fucking Grammys next week and it still doesn’t feel good enough.” His eyes flicker up to find yours, and his voice is quieter now. “Even if I win, I know it won’t. How sad is that?”

“You sound like my dad,” you mutter into your glass, and then your gaze snaps back to Yoongi as you realize what you’ve just said.

He looks as surprised as you feel, and you steady yourself as you take a swig of your drink and swallow it down. Fuck it. If he can overshare, so can you. “Work always came first, before family, before everything. And you know what happened? He dropped dead in his office before he even turned fifty. They said it was probably stress.”

There’s a flash of something in Yoongi’s eyes, but he doesn’t try to interrupt you.

“It makes me so mad,” you say, and you will yourself not to get emotional, your grip on your drink tightening slightly. “Because he worked so fucking hard thinking that once he got to a certain place, he’d be happy. Just a little more, then he could relax. But he never got there. He worked non-stop his whole life and then he fucking died. That’s it.

“And you know what’s really fucked up?” You don’t wait for Yoongi to respond— you can’t stop it all from coming out now, like a tap turned on high.

“People say grief makes you resilient, that it makes you stronger, or kinder, that we go through these things and they’re hard but you learn from them and grow or whatever the fuck. And I don’t feel like any of that shit is true for me. My dad died, and I just got worse.” A self-deprecating laugh flutters out around your words. “I’m selfish. I’m lazy. I make terrible choices. I deeply cannot fucking stand myself, if I’m honest with you. Jimin is like the one friend I still keep in touch with who knew me when my dad was alive, because everyone else just… didn’t know what to do with me. And I don’t blame them.

“And it makes me feel like such a fucking asshole, because he died, and I’m sitting here complaining about me. It’s like I don’t even miss him as much as I just miss… the way things used to be. The person I used to be.” You let yourself take a breath, but the final thought, the part you don’t usually say out loud, slips out with it. “It’s like she died, too.”

There’s a long pause that feels like an eternity, and you realize your heart is racing in your chest. You lean back against the couch with a sigh of frustration, too embarrassed at your own word vomit to do anything but stare at the stupidly high ceiling. You’re so wrapped up in the rush of saying it all— it’s been a while since you’ve gone this deep with anyone— that it takes you a second to notice that Yoongi is laughing softly.

“Wow. And here I thought you were just a slacker.”

The words make you glance over at him. You haven’t divulged these feelings to many people, but nearly everyone you’ve told has responded the same: awkward apologies, shitty words of affirmation you didn’t ask for, waxing poetic bullshit lies about how you’re not a bad person. A road paved with good intentions, things meant to console you that only make you want to scream. 

But Yoongi gives you none of that. He just nods, like he understands.

“Well,” you counter, trying not to let the shock read on your face. “I thought you were just an asshole.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I am an asshole. I’ll own that.” He smirks into his glass as he takes another sip of his drink. “Do you want to know something?”

“What?”

He suddenly pauses, like he’s not sure how to word it, like he maybe regrets asking the question at all. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so hesitant before. “You have to not make a big deal about it.”

“Okay,” you say simply. You’re willing to return the favor.

“The night I left the studio door unlocked, and there was the break-in,” Yoongi starts, his thumb fiddling with the ring on his index finger. Something twists in your stomach, an intuition you can’t explain that makes it immediately clear to you what he’s about to say. “I wasn’t thinking about locking up that night because I... was planning to kill myself.”

It’s like all the air is sucked out of the room, and you will yourself not to react, gripping your glass until your knuckles blanch. Your eyes drop to the floor as you try to process the weight of his words.

“But you didn’t,” you reply dumbly.

“No, I didn’t. I walked up and down the bridge over the river for a long time. Probably an hour, maybe more, I don’t know.” You look up to the window again, tracing the inkblot snake of the river in the distance.

“I thought about it, and then I decided to go home. I thought that maybe I could give it just one more day and see what happened. And then when I got to work the next day, I was in such deep shit about the break-in, I felt like everyone would blame themselves if I did it after that. Like they’d think they were too hard on me.” He laughs bitterly to himself. “Like I’m not always the one who is hardest on myself.”

“Yoongi,” you breathe. “I don’t know what to say.”

He shrugs. “You don’t have to say anything. It just feels nice to tell someone.”

There’s a heavy silence between you, and heat rushes to your face as the words leave your mouth before you can stop them. “I’m glad you didn’t do it.”

He glances over at you, brows pinched together like he doesn’t believe you. “You hate me.”

“I do not!” The insistence in your voice surprises even you. In an attempt to ground yourself, you press your palm to the side of your drink and try to focus on the feeling, the cool surface against your flushed skin. “I mean, I definitely did. But now, I don’t know. Would I really be wasting my Saturday night here if I hated you?”

Yoongi pauses with his glass halfway to his mouth, and you can see him fighting to keep a smile off his face. “Look at me, you came over here to fuck and I turned it into a therapy session. Christ.”

With a final shake of his head, he downs the last of his drink in one swallow. “You want a tour?”

You follow Yoongi as he takes a winding path through the various rooms of his apartment, and you continue to sip at your drink, barely processing any of what he shows you. Your mind is still spinning from the conversation, and that paired with the cotton fuzz of strong liquor makes everything feel muted and far away.

As anticipated, the tour ends in his bedroom, which matches the rest of the place: sleek, minimally decorated, and bathed in the soft glow of inset strip lighting that runs the length of the ceiling.

When Yoongi sets his empty glass down on the dresser, you mirror him, then watch as he steps in to close the distance between you. As your eyes search his, you realize you’re once again caught between conflicting versions of Min Yoongi, still trying to reconcile the one you thought you knew with the person who just spilled his guts all over the living room floor. It feels impossible to hold the two of them together in your mind.

Up close, his smirk seems to soften. “You’re a lot shorter without those heels.”

Before you even understand what you’re doing, or why, you take his face in your hands and kiss him. It’s only a split second, your lips barely brushing over his, and then you quickly pull away, struck by the reality of what you’ve just done.

“Shit,” you breathe, dropping your hands and taking a step back. You stumble slightly as a hot wave of shame rushes up in your chest. “Sorry, I just—”

You don’t get to finish the thought, because Yoongi’s touch is sliding over the curve of your waist, and then he’s dragging you back toward him until his mouth finds yours again. The taste of whiskey lingers on his soft lips as they move against yours— you can’t help but whimper a little at how hungrily he kisses you. Like he’s wanted to do it for a long time.

The idea overwhelms you, and you pull away from him again, your lips still ghosting over his. “Yoongi.” You try your best to sound firm when you say his name, pressing one hand against his chest as you look up at him. “This… can’t mean anything.”

You can feel the heat of his breath when he laughs softly. “It doesn’t have to. I’ve been trying to tell you that.”

Too desperate for his mouth to want to argue, you decide to let him win. “Okay,” you sigh. Your hand is already tangled in his long, dark hair by the time his lips meet yours again.

“Get on the bed,” Yoongi murmurs between kisses, and you do as he says.

Moving backwards, you crawl up toward the pillows while Yoongi crosses the room to hit a panel on the wall, dimming the soft lights overhead until they’re barely there. He comes back to join you, strong hands wordlessly guiding you to lay down beneath him.

It’s weird to not be rushing through this: to feel like you can take your time as he kisses you again, as you lick into his mouth to roll your tongue over his, as one of his hands starts to creep under your skirt to gently rub up and down the length of your thigh.

The motions of his hand push the fabric higher and higher, until it’s as far up as it can go, and he leans back, clearly not satisfied.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, and you nod, sitting up to help as he pulls your dress up over your head.

It occurs to you a beat too late that you’ve never been this naked in front of him before, and your heartbeat flutters. “You too,” you murmur, pinching gently at the hem of Yoongi’s t-shirt, and he smirks as he reaches one hand between his shoulder blades to tug it off entirely.

You take him in as he drops the shirt to his bedroom floor: he’s broad-shouldered in a way you’ve never noticed under all his baggy clothes, with firm definition in the muscles of his chest and arms, and there’s a flush of warm glow to his pale skin.

As you blink up at Yoongi, more than dazed, you realize his eyes are roaming over your body, too. “Fuck,” he swears under his breath, and you resist the sudden urge to hide from his surveying gaze. “You have great tits.”

You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t that, and the surprise of it makes you laugh.

“Just for that, I’ll let you see them,” you say, unable to keep the teasing edge out of your voice as you lean forward to reach behind your back. Your hands shake a little more than you’d like as you fumble to undo your bra and toss it off the side of the bed to join everything else.

Your nipples stiffen quickly in the cool air of his room, and when you lay back again, Yoongi covers your body with his, the movement paired with a groan that’s nearly a growl. You can’t hold back your own soft sounds as his lips and tongue move down your neck, and it occurs to you now that there’s so much that the two of you have never done before. So many steps you skipped.

Like the way Yoongi cups one of your breasts in his hand, rolling his thumb over your nipple to earn a louder whine from you. “Shit,” you gasp as he does it again, his mouth still trailing kisses between the valley of your breasts.

“God,” Yoongi hisses against your skin. “You drive me fuckin’ crazy.”

With his thumb continuing to work at one nipple, he takes the other into his mouth, and you can feel the way your arousal is starting to soak through your panties as he sucks firmly at the stiff peak. You arch up into him, and then he’s shifting to roll your nipple between his teeth and tug, and you can’t help it— you flinch and yelp beneath him, overwhelmed.

He quickly pulls his mouth off of you, eyes flashing up to find yours. “Sensitive?”

You nod, face flushing, embarrassed. “A little bit of teeth is okay. Too much hurts.”

“Okay,” Yoongi answers softly. He licks up the underside of your breast to pull the bud of it back into his mouth, and the swirl of his tongue there soothes like an apology. When he just barely grazes his teeth across the sensitive peak, it’s enough to make you keen, your eyes rolling back as they flutter closed.

“Oh, fuck, just like that.”

With a wet noise, he pulls off to switch sides, repeating the firm suction, the drag of his tongue, the slightest brush of teeth. His fingers pinch gently at your other nipple, made slick with his spit, and he keeps working you lazily, unhurried, until your body writhes underneath his.

“Yoongi—” You try to catch your breath, and you run a hand through his hair to pull his mouth off of you. His jaw is still dropped open slightly when he meets your gaze. “Touch me.”

His lips pull into a smug smile. “Told you you’d beg.”

Your grip on his hair tightens in response. “Not begging. Ordering.”

Yoongi tuts gently, like he’s disappointed. “I don’t follow orders, sweetheart.”

As much as his teasing irritates you, a twin smile to his spreads across your face. “I’ll kill you,” you murmur, releasing your grip as he shifts back onto his knees.

It gets harder to focus on your bloodlust when his palms run over the curve of your hips, then press between your legs to part your thighs. “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he deadpans as his fingers slip under the waistband of your panties and he starts to drag the lace down your legs.

“That’s fucking dark,” you can’t help but laugh as you kick your underwear the rest of the way off.

Yoongi licks his lips, clearly distracted, and you spread yourself wider for him. “This pussy,” he grunts hoarsely, like he’s talking to himself more than you. “Gets so puffy when you want it. All tight inside, too.” He unexpectedly slaps the whole of his hand over your center, and you gasp, your hips jolting up.

You don’t even have time to respond before he’s pressing a finger into you, your cunt squeezing tight enough to reward him with an audible noise as he fucks it in and out. “Fuck,” you groan.

“You get this wet just from having your tits played with, huh?”

The thorough analysis makes you huff a laugh, because he’s not wrong, and it stutters into a moan when his thumb gently starts to circle your clit.

“God,” you manage to choke out, “you’re fucking chatty tonight.”

Yoongi smirks, and you’re not sure why until he speaks again, his voice now pinched in a clear imitation as he withdraws his hand. “I’m sorry, is there somewhere you’d rather I put my mouth?”

Your jaw drops in disbelief as he repeats your own stupid tease from weeks ago back to you. “I’ve changed my mind,” you snap, sitting up a little, and Yoongi glances at you, already in the midst of settling between your spread thighs. “I do still hate you.”

“That’s fine,” he says with a shrug, and then he leans in to lick a thick, wet stripe up your slit. His mouth is immediately dizzying, and you drop your head back against the pillow, overwhelmed.

It’s another thing you’ve never done before, at least not with Min Yoongi. As he repeats the motion over and over, lazy long strokes where he drags his tongue from your entrance all the way up to circle your clit, you mentally kick yourself for every missed chance, every opportunity to have his mouth that you didn’t take.

“What the fuck,” you breathe.

Yoongi just barely pulls off of you, close enough that a string of your arousal is still joined to his lower lip when he speaks. “You’re not the only one with good head game here.”

He dives in again like he’s determined to immediately prove his point, and you shove your legs open wider as he sucks your clit into his mouth.

As much as you’d like to bruise his ego, it’s impossible to keep yourself from moaning when he pairs the firm suction with the press of his index finger back into your tight heat. As wet as he’s made you, he’s easily able to slide a second in beside it now, and your nails scratch helplessly over the sheets beneath you.

“Yoongi,” you gasp as he curls his digits to beckon inside you, stroking over your front wall and easily finding the spot that makes you gush. He does it again and again, like a button press, working up more and more arousal until you’re dripping down his wrist.

Even the way he hums against your pussy sounds like a smirk, but you’re too far gone to care. Yoongi starts to flick his tongue steadily over your clit, matching the rhythm of his fingers pumping into your g-spot, and you can feel the pressure in your core building, a band pulled tight enough to snap.

Your hips buck up toward his mouth in an overwhelmed reflex, and Yoongi’s free hand is immediately there like he was expecting it. His palm presses firmly to your lower abdomen to hold you down and keep you there, and even that feels good too, renders you entirely helpless to his mouth and his hands as he takes you apart.

“Fuck,” you moan, loud and unabashed now. “Fuck, yes, I’m—”

The feeling overtakes you before you can get another word out, and you nearly sob as your orgasm rips through you, your whole body straining hard against Yoongi’s strong hand as he pins you to the bed. The extra pressure on your core pushes a rush of fluid out of your cunt, enough to soak the sheets beneath you as your muscles contract around Yoongi’s fingers.

“Oh my god,” he doesn’t even pull away to groan, and the low vibration of the words against your throbbing clit makes your thighs tremble.

There’s a wet smack of his lips and tongue as he finally relents, the pace of his fingers slowing as he continues to work you through the aftershocks. You desperately try to remember how to breathe as you start to come down.

Yoongi is a fucking sight when he leans back to look up at you: long hair falling in his face, eyes dark with lust, lips and chin slick with your arousal. “Did you seriously just squirt?”

It’s been a long time since anyone has managed to make it happen, and you suddenly feel overwhelmed in a different way. Still recovering, you can barely get the words out. “Shut up.”

“What the fuck do you mean, ‘shut up’? It was hot,” Yoongi grunts, and you’re at least grateful that you don’t have to have the ‘it’s not pee’ conversation right now. He ducks his head down again as he withdraws his fingers, and his tongue drags up the crux of your thighs to chase a few stray droplets. You squirm, oversensitive, your legs nearly snapping shut around his neck, and he takes the cue to back off with a soft laugh.

You’re too spent to fight it when he starts to manhandle you a little, palms slipping under your ass to drag you further down the bed until your hips are flush with his, then encouraging your knees to pull up toward your chest. “Think you can do that on my cock?”

The question sparks something in your core, the first lick of a freshly lit flame, and you prop yourself up on your forearms to better meet his gaze. “Make me.”

Yoongi’s appreciative smile is nearly a snarl, and he shifts lower on the bed to quickly strip out of his pants and boxers. You watch as he starts to crawl back up your body, anticipation tightening in your core, and then a flash of realization crosses his face and he freezes.

“Fuck,” he swears, and your stomach drops.

“What’s wrong?”

“I forgot I’m out of condoms.” Your eyes widen as his gaze meets yours. “Do you have any?”

You shake your head. “Not with me.”

A muscle in his jaw works as he exhales a resigned sigh, and you reach out, one hand finding his bicep to stop him before he leaves. You want it too much, bad idea or not. “Just… fuck me anyway.”

His expression goes deadly serious, and there’s a long moment before he responds. “You’re sure?”

You swallow hard as you nod, your eyes searching his. “Just pull out, okay?” You hate yourself for saying the final word before it even leaves your lips. “Please.”

“Okay,” Yoongi repeats back to you, and his hands press to your thighs again to encourage your knees up as he positions himself between your legs. There’s a feeling humming in the space between your bodies, like the reality of the situation has settled over the both of you. The reckless abandon of the previous moment is gone, replaced with something slower, more hesitant. Heavier.

With your eyes fixed on his face, you feel it first: the weight and warmth of his cock grinding over your slit, sliding easily with how soaked you are. You look down to see it for yourself, flushed dark and hard enough to leak precum, trailing a glossy sheen over your folds as Yoongi guides it against you, one hand gripped firmly to the base. He teases the head of his dick over your clit and keeps it there, and you’re still sensitive enough to whimper at the feeling.

“Please,” you repeat, and he’s too focused to be smug about it. He just nods as he drags his cock back down to your entrance, then braces one hand against your thigh and starts to push in.

You exhale softly at the welcome stretch, familiar made new at the lack of anything between you. You can feel it all: the thick swell of the head of his cock as he eases you open, how he throbs gently as your walls squeeze around him, so tight that you can even feel the prominent veins that trace down his shaft.

You’re still wet and getting wetter from the way he fills you up entirely, your arousal drenching the length of him when he bottoms out with an audible slick sound. His cock twitches, buried to the hilt, and even that barely-there motion is enough to coax a breathy moan from you.

“Shit,” Yoongi laughs softly, and the tinge of humility to his voice makes you glance up at him again. “Not gonna be able to go that fast. Feels too good.”

“It’s okay,” you murmur. “Just…”

The words won’t come. It would mean too much to say what you want, and this isn’t supposed to mean anything at all.

So you don’t say them: you just hook your arms over his shoulders and pull his mouth down to yours. “Just fuck me,” you murmur against his lips. He grunts a low note of appreciation as he kisses you, as he starts to drag his cock out of you just to fuck it back in again.

It’s shallow, it’s slow, it’s nothing like what you’re used to with Yoongi, but it’s good. Good enough to make your kisses sloppy when you trade open-mouthed breaths, good enough to make you tilt your head and slide the flat of your tongue over Yoongi’s unabashedly, like an earned reward.

He pushes your knees up a little more, thrusting deeper this time, and the new angle drags the head of his cock right over your g-spot. You whine at the heavy weight of him, the shudder that ripples through you in response, and he stays there, stroking steadily to rub that spot again and again until your eyes roll back in your head.

“Oh my god, Yoongi,” you gasp into his mouth.

“Shit,” he groans shakily, reaching one hand up to brush his hair out of his eyes. A few dark strands stick to the sheen of sweat on his forehead. “Squeezing me so fucking tight.”

Your arousal coils hot and fast inside of you as he keeps thrusting, and you have to break away from kissing him to tip your head back on the pillow and moan. “Fuck, please don’t stop, I’m—”

It feels like the final second before your climax when Yoongi pulls out, sitting back on his knees between your spread legs with a low groan. The sudden loss of his cock makes your walls clench at nothing, and you whine, petulant. “Yoongi!”

“Sorry,” he mutters, breathless. “Almost came.” You glance up to see him squeezing at the base of his cock with one hand, his chest heaving with effort. Your hips tilt up toward him, jealous.

“I miss your cock,” you whine, fucked close enough to be shameless.

“You’ll get it,” he retorts, and then you feel three of his fingers press in to fill the space he left behind inside of you. “Want to make you come again first.”

You keen as he starts to pump them, wrist angled just right to meet your g-spot each time. “Oh fuck, Yoongi.” The arousal in your core aches as he fucks you open on his fingers, and you can hear how wet you are in the soaked squelch of your needy pussy, can feel it leaking down your thighs.

His thumb brushes over your clit with every upstroke of his hand, and it makes you gasp, your moans starting to pitch higher. “Harder, baby, please, I’m so close.”

Too lost in the feeling, you barely notice when Yoongi laughs a little, but he does as you ask, and the way he pounds into you is just enough to work you over the edge. Waves of pleasure rip through your body as you come for a second time, squirting a little on his sheets again, your thighs shaking violently.

“That’s it, there you go, fuck,” Yoongi groans appreciatively at the sight.

You’ve just barely made it past your peak, still shuddering all over, when Yoongi withdraws his fingers to shove his cock back in again, and you keen.

He thrusts like a man close to his own end, fast and hard, his breath coming in ragged pants of effort and pleasure. Your pussy pulses around him, squeezing like a vice, so swollen with sensitivity that it really does feel like he’s splitting you open every time he fucks into you.

You moan unabashedly now and cling to him all over, legs bracketing his snapping hips, nails of one hand digging into his shoulder, the other hand tangled in his hair. Your cunt throbs and gushes around him as he strokes, and it still feels like you’re coming: you can’t tell if it’s an intensely drawn-out second orgasm or if the hot stretch of his cock worked you seamlessly into a third.

When he finally pulls out, you drop back against the bed with an exhausted groan, every inch of you fucked into oblivion. You can barely focus your eyes to watch as Yoongi shoves his hips up to straddle yours, one hand working his cock until his release overtakes him.

He flattens both palms to the mattress as he starts to come, groaning softly and rocking his hips so that his cock grinds against your stomach. The head of his dick twitches visibly, leaking pulse after pulse of sticky gloss over your skin, and he smears his cock through it as he ruts against you. He keeps going, rolling his hips and rubbing the mess across your stomach until he’s thoroughly spent, until you’re both flushed and sticky all over.

“Holy fucking shit,” is all he can manage when he finally collapses down on the bed next to you.

You glance over at him and nod, trying to imply without speaking that the feeling is mutual. He meets your gaze, and you lay like that for several long minutes of silence as your breathing slows, eyes fixed on each other as your heartbeats race through the comedown.

It’s hard to believe that any part of tonight has been real, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s thinking the same thing.

As the post-orgasm glow starts to settle, exhaustion hits you like a train. You groan, breaking the prolonged eye contact to throw an arm over your face, blocking out Yoongi’s bedroom with the crook of your elbow.

You’re not expecting it when he softly says your name, and something in your gut tells you that whatever’s coming isn’t good. You will yourself not to look back again, to stay as still as a statue when you answer him. “Hmm?”

“You know Jungkook is in love with you, right?”

The plan to not move goes out the window at his words. Your pulse spikes, and you drop your arm to look at him, your face twisted in confusion. “What?!”

Yoongi studies your expression for a second, then makes a small hum of surprise. “Interesting. I figured you were just trying to let him down easy.”

“I— what?”

“You really didn’t know?” He scoffs, and his tone is enough to instantly make you set your jaw. “It’s pretty obvious. It’s funny, I guess he’s sort of inadvertently responsible for all of this.”

That takes a second to sink in, and you blink. “How?”

Yoongi stares up at the ceiling, seemingly nonplussed. “Well, when he asked me for the code to my office, I figured he wanted to take you in there and fuck you.”

Hot blood rushes to your chest, and you sit up a little. “You talked to Jungkook about fucking me?”

“No.” Yoongi blinks. “This was before anything happened. I haven’t told him anything. It was just clear he liked you, even back then, because I have eyes. So I was trying to do him a favor. He’s a good kid.”

You squint, still trying to catch up. “Why would Jungkook fuck me in your office?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know, it’s the only door that locks. Sometimes you get desperate.” You swallow the immediate urge to argue when your brain unhelpfully reminds you that you have in fact fucked Yoongi at the office. Twice.

“But you know, I figured he’d wine you, dine you, all that romantic crap first. I’m sure he’s a very respectable sex on the third date kind of guy.” That all-too-familiar smirk is back when he glances over at you again. “I guess neither of us realized who we were dealing with.”

You open and close your mouth a few times before you can remember how to speak. “I’m not having this conversation with you. Particularly not with your cum still on my stomach.”

Yoongi nods toward the en-suite. “There’s towels in there. Or you can shower if you want.”

Your head spins as you silently slip out of his bed, and you shut the bathroom door firmly behind you, wishing you could leave that entire conversation on the other side of it. Maybe his fancy shower will get hot enough to blast all the thoughts out of your brain, you reason, and it only takes a bit of fumbling with the knobs before you figure it out.

The water pressure is so much better than what you’re used to that you groan a little when you step under the spray. You turn in a semicircle, letting it beat down on your neck and shoulders as you close your eyes, willing the tension to melt out of your body. You really are exhausted, practically asleep on your feet, despite the way your mind is still racing.

You don’t know why you came here tonight. You don’t know what you thought would happen. You don’t know what makes you keep coming back to Yoongi, over and over, like a moth to a flame, like the definition of insanity. You don’t know why he opened up to you tonight, or why you decided to do the same— or what the fuck compelled him to say that Jungkook is in love with you. You don’t know if things are supposed to stay the same after tonight, or if they will be irrevocably different, and you don’t know which you’d even want.

You have no idea what you want, actually. Another drink would be nice.

The sound of the shower door opening startles you, pulling you up from your thought spiral, and your eyes snap open to see Yoongi shutting the door behind him. Without a word, he steps in to crowd you under the water, and you hate the way your heartbeat flutters when he’s close to you.

“What are you—” you try to ask, but you don’t get to finish the sentence before his hand cups your jaw and his mouth finds yours.

His kiss blots everything else from your brain, and in this moment, you’re grateful for it. You lean into him, letting him in deeper when his tongue traces your bottom lip, whimpering softly as his other hand presses to the small of your back to pull you closer.

You don’t know what he wants, either. Why he came in here. But you have a guess.

“Yoongi,” you murmur against his lips. “I can’t again. I’m so tired.”

“It’s okay,” he answers softly, and then his mouth drags you back in like a riptide.

You don’t know how long you stay there like that, kissing him under the steam and the spray, but you’re breathless when you finally pull away to look up at him. Water droplets are twined through his long, dark hair, collecting delicately on his eyelashes, trailing down his neck and over the muscles of his chest.

“You can sleep here tonight, if you want,” Yoongi offers, and before you can even process the words, he’s stepping back to push the shower door open behind him, and then he’s gone.

With the glass fogged over completely from the heat of the water, and the white noise of the fan overhead, you have no concept of when he leaves the bathroom, or what else he might be doing. You just know you feel entirely alone.

After scrubbing yourself thoroughly with a washcloth that you lather in Yoongi’s soap, you emerge from the shower, grabbing a towel from the linen cabinet to wrap up in. It’s weird to smell like him, sandalwood and musk, somehow both comforting and alienating.

When you nudge open the door to his room again, it’s empty, and the inset lighting has been turned off entirely, the room bathed only in the glow of the bedside lamp that’s been switched on.

He’s left out one of his t-shirts for you, and you recognize it as one you’ve seen him in often at work. You remember Googling the label once out of curiosity and nearly passing out at your desk when you saw the three hundred dollar price tag. You pull it on over your head, then return to the bathroom to hang your towel up.

As you slip back into the bedroom, you can’t help but wonder where Yoongi’s disappeared off to, but you’re too exhausted to go looking for him.

Though you figure he’ll be in eventually, your heart still sinks a little as you pull back the covers and crawl into his bed. It feels so much bigger when you’re the only one in it. You decide to leave the lamp on, then turn over to press your cheek to the pillow, and the waves of sleep almost immediately pull you under.

You’re still alone when you wake up in the morning, the other side of the bed entirely undisturbed. 

Blinking slowly, it takes you a moment to remember where you are, and then the night comes back to you piece by piece. The lamp on the nightstand is still on when you sit up and swing your legs over the edge of the bed.

Yawning and rubbing sleep from your eyes, you push open Yoongi’s bedroom door and pad down the hallway, trying to make sense of things. You have to retrace your steps all the way back to the living room before you find him, curled up on his side on the couch with one arm tucked under his head, still sleeping soundly.

He looks smaller like this. More vulnerable, maybe.

You wonder if you should’ve asked him to join you in his bed, and you wonder why he didn’t. Worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, you decide to let him rest.

You move through his apartment aimlessly, like a patron in a museum. Something cracks open inside of you as you allow yourself to take in his place undisturbed, and with it, what could be. The idea that a night spent here could feel normal. The two of you in the clearly well-used kitchen, how you might sit on the counter with a glass of wine while he cooks dinner. Talking about your days, about the past and the future. Sharing a life. Fucking and showering and falling asleep in his bed, tangled up together.

For something so close, it feels impossibly far away in the harsh light of morning. It feels like something meant for a much better person than you.

When you make it all the way back to his room, you peel your borrowed shirt off and drape it across his bed like you found it. You retrieve your clothes from last night off the floor and pull them back on.

Thankfully Yoongi chose to fall asleep on the far side of the couch, so when you re-enter the living room, you’re easily able to grab your purse where you set it down the night before without waking him. You slip your heels on in his entryway, then open the front door and shut it as quietly as you can behind you.

You fish your phone out of your bag and scroll until you find Jimin’s contact, then press it to your ear as the line starts to ring.

~*~

You don’t hear from Yoongi at all on Sunday, and you barely see him at work the next few days. You don’t know why it surprises you. It makes sense. You said that night had to mean nothing, you left in the morning without another word, and it’s not like you’ve made any effort to reach out since.

But nevertheless, hurt feelings sit heavy in the pit of your stomach, stinging like salt in an open wound. You’re angry that Yoongi seems to be acting like nothing even happened. You’re annoyed that you have to spend an entire weekend alone with him in Los Angeles. And you’re pissed off that you have so much fucking work to do in preparation for a trip that’s all about him.

You keep your head down and just try to fucking survive. You stay silent in your meetings unless directly asked a question. You type furiously at your desk, forever behind on emails and late on promised deliverables.

The week passes by in a blur, and it doesn’t even occur to you what day it is until you find Jungkook waiting for you at your desk when you return from an afternoon meeting.

“Hi, Jungkook.” You try to say it gently, to not take your frustrations out on someone who didn’t even do anything. While you’ve made polite small talk all week, things certainly haven’t felt normal, and you can’t tell if he senses it too, or if you’re just letting Yoongi’s cryptic words plant imaginary strange vibes in your head.

To his credit, Jungkook seems unfazed. “It’s the last day before your trip!” he says brightly, and your eyes widen as you realize he’s right. “What’s the rest of your day look like?”

You take a seat at your desk and pull up your calendar to check, and he circles around to look with you. “That was thankfully my last meeting,” you respond. “Just getting back to my never-ending to-do list now.”

“Or…” Jungkook prompts, and you glance up to see him leaning forward to rest his elbows on the back of your desk chair, his chin propped cutely in his hands. “You could not do that.”

You blink up at him. “And what would I be doing instead?”

“I was thinking, it’s been a while since we’ve had a walking meeting. Plus it’s actually nice out. So you should take a break.”

Glancing back at your to-do list sends a fresh wave of dread through you, and then you snap your laptop shut with a resigned sigh. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

Not only could you use the break, but you want things with Jungkook to feel normal again, even if the weirdness is only in your head. Maybe this is what you need.

Down in the lobby, Jungkook holds the door for you, and when you step outside, you realize he’s right. It’s one of those clear-sky early spring days, warm enough out that it feels like the world is starting over, like everything is coming back to life. You can’t help but feel like you could use a fresh start, too.

Though you expect to be led somewhere with food, Jungkook takes a different route instead, and you follow him a few blocks over to the entrance of a nearby park. You end up side by side on a paved pedestrian path, the length of which is lined with trees that have only just begun to bud.

It’s quiet, save for the distant noise of the city, the rustle of nature, and the rush of the occasional cyclist whizzing past. You walk slowly as you chat about nothing of importance: work, music, his dogs.

Jungkook glances over at you during a moment’s pause, with a look on his face like there’s a question he’s been waiting to ask. “So how are you feeling about your trip?”

You can’t quite manage to keep your expression neutral, your eyes rolling like a reflex. “Whatever. I just want to get it over with.”

“Ah.” Jungkook nods, and you can see he’s biting back some reaction. “For some reason I thought you might be excited.”

“What do you mean?”

He just shrugs. “I don’t know. You’ve been… different lately. About Suga. I thought maybe something was going on.” An uneasy feeling starts to wash over you.

“Nothing is going on with me and Yoongi,” you say, far too quickly. Jungkook glances at you, his brows pinched together slightly as if he’s unsure what to believe.

“Okay,” he says simply. You hope that’s the end of it, but then he keeps going. “That’s good. I’m glad I don’t have to tell you to raise your standards.”

Heat rushes into your face, caught somewhere between shame and anger. “Um, what does that mean?”

You grit your teeth when he just shrugs again. “I don’t know. He was such a jerk to you, and then suddenly it’s like you guys are hanging out and getting close and stuff—”

“We are not close,” you interject, and you hate how unsteady your voice sounds when you say it.

“Good,” Jungkook responds. “Because I thought maybe you might be, and it didn’t make any sense to me.”

Overwhelmed by his words, you come to a standstill on the pavement, and he makes it a few steps further before he realizes. As he turns back to face you, the words rush out before you can stop them. “I mean, I don’t see how it’s any of your business either way.”

Jungkook’s brow furrows again. “It’s my business because I care about you. He made you so miserable when you first started, so I don’t see how you could just forget about that and be into him, especially when you could…” He trails off and looks down, unwilling to finish the sentence.

“When I could what?” Another fucking shrug, and you can feel the rage inside you simmering now, threatening to boil over. Yoongi’s question comes back to haunt you— you know Jungkook is in love with you, right?— and the pieces start to slot together in front of you.

“When I could be into you?” you press him, taking an accusatory step closer. “Is that what you want to say?”

His gaze flits up to the trees above you, like he’s willing to look anywhere but your face. “No. I don’t know.”

The birdsong in the air has suddenly started to sound a lot more like screaming, and you have to suppress the urge to do the same. Instead, your voice comes out low and deadly serious. “You and I are friends, Jungkook. Just friends.”

“I know we are,” he says softly.

“Do you?” you snap back, vicious now. “Because it sounds to me like you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” he responds automatically, in the same tone, and you scoff.

“Look me in my face and say it.” You take another step toward him, and his eyes meet yours. He’s silent long enough for you to understand the truth, and all at once, you feel like a fucking idiot.

“Let me make this clear to you,” you hiss. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself and making my own decisions. And I do not have to explain or justify them to anyone, including you, because you are not my fucking boyfriend.”

When you spit the final word, Jungkook flinches like you’ve slapped him, but you can’t stop now. You’re so angry, it feels like it’s eating you alive. “When I want your opinion, as my friend, I’ll ask for it. Understood?”

You’ve never seen him look at you the way he does now, his eyes dark, his face twisted into a near grimace. There’s a long pause, and his voice is stilted when he finally speaks. “Yeah. Sorry I brought it up.”

The two of you walk back to the office in total silence, and Jungkook doesn’t try to talk to you again.

~*~

It’s early enough to still be pitch black outside when Jimin pulls up to the curb of your terminal at Incheon Airport.

“Thanks again for driving.” You yawn around the words as you reach down to unbuckle your seatbelt. When Jimin suddenly pulls you in for a hug, you groan at the affection, but he pays it no mind, dotting kisses over your hair that make you squirm.

“Love you, have fun. And be a slut!”

You roll your eyes as you manage to peel him off of you. “Bye, Baby Mochi.”

Slipping on a face mask, you push the door of his car open and climb out of the passenger seat. You swing open the trunk to grab your suitcase, then slam it shut again and step up onto the curb.

Making your way into the terminal, you dig your phone out of your bag to double-check the text from Yoongi, and then you glance up at the sign overhead to confirm you’re right where he said he’d be.

It takes a second for you to realize the person walking in your direction is Min Yoongi. The black baseball cap pulled low over his eyes is certainly not a bad look, but when paired with his black face mask, it makes him almost impossible to identify, or get a good read on. Rolling your suitcase ahead of you, you move toward him, and the two of you meet in the middle.

You wore sneakers today, so he still seems tall.

“Hi,” you say simply, a thousand different emotions swirling in your gut. You do your best to ignore them all.

Yoongi hums a wordless grunt back in response, then turns to face the already bustling security line. You mirror him, and for a moment the two of you just stay like that, like you’re standing firmly in the present and unsure of what might be waiting on the other side.

He gives a tired sigh. “Ready?” You’re surprised to learn he can speak this early in the morning. 

“I guess so,” you answer.

Perfectly in sync, you both push your bags forward, stepping carefully toward a weekend that feels impossible to imagine.

chapter seven | masterlist | chapter nine

[tomurasprincess]

Kinktober Day 24: Monster (The Asylum)

Day 24: Monster Title: The Asylum Pairing: Mothman Shigaraki x Reader Word Count: 3.1k Warnings: Noncon, monster mind control stuff, oviposition, cumflation, belly bulges, breeding, forced orgasms, some slight descriptions of gore and blood, yandere Note: The Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum is a real place, although parts of what I wrote is fake, mostly the part where they close down a second time in the fic. IRL, they’re still open and doing tours. Tagging @ichor-and-symbiosis​ and @kazooli​ as two of the OG Mothura writers 👀

Sequel: The Brood

Kinktober Masterlist

You’ve always loved urban exploring, going to old mental asylums and hospitals to look around and see the decay of places that used to be so bustling with people. You especially liked the places that had tragic pasts, the ones where horrific things occurred. It sounds morbid to anyone you talk to about your interests, but it was the truth. You’ve always believed in monsters and ghosts just out of sight of humanity, lurking in the dark corners of abandoned places.

That’s why you instantly planned a trip to the Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum the second you heard about it. It had been abandoned years ago due to extreme abuse of patients. A historical society had moved in later, renovating the place and making a history tour of it that also did ghost tours at night.

But even they ended up abandoning the place due to the fake ghost tours apparently starting to become real ghost tours. People began to see creatures out of the corner of their eyes, something they said was much larger than a human, with wings on its back and piercing red eyes.

It was initially dismissed as overactive imaginations, people who wanted to see ghosts so badly that they were seeing things that weren’t there. Or people who just wanted to start tall tales  for attention and were flat out making things up in order to scare the rest of the group.

But then the disappearances started to happen. It was almost always young women who got separated from the tour group, although a few times it was a boyfriend and girlfriend who got lost together. The tour guides scoured every inch of the asylum looking for the missing people, but they found no trace of them. At first it was dismissed as the people getting scared and running off without telling anybody.

Until one day, a regularly scheduled tour group stumbled across the bodies. Not the bodies of the missing girls, but their partners. They were viciously torn apart, with limbs scattered all over the room. Their blood covered the walls, the floor, even the ceiling of the room. The women were alive but traumatized, rocking back and forth in a corner of the room absolutely covered in blood, none of which was their own.

They told the same tales that the rest of the people did. They were captured by a monster, around 8-9 feet tall, with large moth-like wings and red eyes. The creature was surprisingly gentle to them, they said, at least until they saw that they were with someone. The creature had become enraged, tearing their partner to pieces as they watched. They knew for certain that they would be next, their eyes squeezed tight as they waited for their death.

But the creature did nothing, simply turning away and leaving the room like they were not what the creature wanted.

Although everyone agreed that something horrible had happened to the young women, none of them believed their story. They had stayed in that room for several days, covered in the blood of their loved ones, not knowing if they were ever going to make it out. Of course they were traumatized, thinking they saw monsters. But monsters aren’t believed to exist, and so everyone began to look for a human murderer that was never found.

The asylum tried to recover from the tragedy, but it was never able to. The amount of bad press they got for having lax safety standards and not taking care of their tour groups caused everybody to stay away. Finally, having no other choice in the matter, the asylum had closed.

When you heard this story, you were over the moon excited. Not just a historical landmark, but also a place with a possible real life monster sighting. Nothing was going to stop you from going there and seeing the place for yourself.

And now here you stand, in front of the building with a backpack full of supplies slung over your shoulder. You had your phone, flashlights with spare batteries, a spare change of clothes, matches and lighters, even a rope and various other tools should something happen inside of the building.

And so, with a deep excitement bubbling up in your stomach, you find your way through a hole in the fence and walk through the front door. The first thing you see is the reception desk with various odds and ends left over from the closure. There are even still brochures describing the various types of tours and listing prices.

You walk down the first corridor you see, going past various closed off rooms that look to be basic examination rooms. There is surprisingly little decay, mostly everything still looking rather clean and intact besides a thick layer of dust and cobwebs covering everything. You’re a bit discouraged but decide to continue on to see if things get more interesting.

After all, the murders occured in the basement, and you’re not anywhere close to that yet.

Soon you find yourself in the medical ward where the patients were kept, and you instantly realize one of the reasons this hospital was so nightmarish. The rooms are even smaller than jail cells, leaving barely enough space for patients to lay down in. There are so many rooms of that exact size that you wonder how the staff could accurately take care of the amount of patients there had to be. But you remember your research, remember the fact that they couldn’t.

That was why so many brutal procedures were performed such as lobotomies, in order to keep the peace at the asylum and make things easier for the doctors and nurses. You give a quick shudder and begin to move on, feeling a strange sensation that you desperately want to get away from.

The decay gets worse and worse the closer you get to the basement, rust and decay beginning to cover every surface you see. You walk past some of the surgery rooms and feel horror at the utensils and instruments you see in them. The historical society tried to keep things as accurate as possible, and as such, they had kept most of the equipment that you would see back in those days.

You’re beginning to wonder if this is a good idea, as that strange sensation continues to worsen and worsen. You realize with a start what this feeling actually is.

It feels like someone is watching your every movement. You whirl around, shining your flashlight in every direction as you try to see what’s watching you. But there’s nothing but darkness and the decaying walls of the hospital. You shake your head, laughing quietly at the fact that you’re spooked out by a few weird shadows and an odd feeling.

You’re not going to let it stop you from your goal, however, and you continue forwards until you get to the doors of the basement. The feeling here is overwhelming, simultaneously telling you to run and move forward all at the same time. The conflicting emotions leave you off balance and light headed, and you reach your hand out instinctively when you sway on your feet. You touch a section of the wall and instantly pull your hand back.

The wall is warm, not cold like it should be. A sense of unease crawls up your spine, and you decide then and there that it’s time to go. Making it to the basement is not worth this, whatever it is you’re feeling. But then you hear a soft humming and the flapping of wings, coming from deep within the basement of the hospital.

Instead of being terrified, however, you feel entranced. It’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever heard, and it’s calling you. You open the basement door without even thinking about it, walking down the stairs in a dreamy haze. You don’t even pay attention to how heavy the rot here is, how the walls are entirely blackened by decay that spreads out like veins on a body.

You don’t pay attention when the door slams closed behind you, locking you in with whatever is calling you closer. All you can think about is getting to that beautiful sound, that lonely haunting call that seems to burrow deep into your brain. You walk as if you’re in a trance, turning corridors that you’ve never seen before but somehow know where they’re going.

Finally, you get to a door that is deep within the bowels of the basement, a bright red door that seems to beckon you inside. You push open the door with no hesitation, walking through and letting it close behind you.

And you finally come face to face with the creature. He is about 9 feet tall, towering over your small form. He’s not overly muscular, but he has a thin wiry look to him that says he is deceptively strong. His red eyes bore into you like they’re staring directly into your soul. On his back are two massive wings, spread to their full wing span and utterly gorgeous.

The creature makes a small chittering noise as he motions you towards him, and you follow like he’s a puppeteer holding your strings. He pulls you tightly into his body, burying his nose into your neck and taking a deep whiff of your skin. His hot breath on your sensitive skin pulls a shudder from you. and he tightens his grip as if he’s worried you’ll get away.

A long tongue pokes out of his mouth, licking at the pulse point that is frantically beating. “Mine,” he groans into your skin, sharp teeth grazing you. “Mate.” You’re lifted up off your feet before being laid down on the ground, hips in the air and face down on the floor. He rips your pants off easily, leaving your panties on as he lowers his head down. You feel a flash of embarrassment as he sniffs them like he sniffed your neck, groaning again as his tongue drags across the wet abric. “Fertile,” he whispers as he pulls your panties aside, “fertile mate.”

The haze parts from your mind long enough for you to feel a sharp flash of fear, and then his tongue is lapping at your folds and the fear is quickly chased away again. You dig your nails into the floor as you feel him work his tongue inside of you, using it to fuck you like a cock would. You gasp when he hits your cervix with his tongue and keeps going, wiggling against the barrier like he’s trying to break through it.

Something in his saliva causes your body to heat up and your muscles to loosen enough for him to batter his tongue harder against you and push through. Your scream echoes through the walls of the room, but not of pain. Instead, a fierce pleasure overtakes you as your cervix gives way to the creature’s tongue, allowing him to enter into your womb.

The feeling of this tongue wiggling around in your empty womb causes you to tip over the edge and cum around the creature’s tongue as he eagerly laps at your juices. He withdraws his tongue, causing you to let out a whine of disappointment, only to be surprised when you feel something prodding at your entrance. It doesn’t feel like a human cock at all, with ridges and bumps along the length and much thicker than a human cock would be.

You have a single moment to wonder how it will fit inside of you before it’s pushing in, stretching out your tight outer ring of muscles and causing a sharp burning in your lower stomach. You whine and try to pull away, only for the creature to let out a snarl as claws dig into your hips, causing your blood to drip down onto the pavement.

Even though there is no pain, only more pleasure, you learn your lesson and don’t try to move away as the thick cock slides even further into you. It’s so much thicker than anything you’ve ever taken before, and you’re shaking like a leaf when he finally bottoms out inside. You think he’ll start thrusting like a human male would, except that he doesn’t.

He keeps pushing, humping into you with sharp movements designed to force your cervix open even further. You squeal as the cock makes it past the barrier, burying deep inside of your womb. You glance down and let out a choked sob at the bulge in your stomach where the tip of the creature’s cock is.

“Pretty - pretty mate,” the creature says hesitantly, rolling his hips experimentally into you and drawing a groan from your throat. “Tomura,” he adds, and it takes you a second to realize that’s the creature’s name.

“Tomura,” you murmur, and the creature chitters happily at the sound of your voice saying the name. You try to think of something else to ask, maybe even to beg to be released as the haze seems to clear a bit, but Tomura begins to hum again, and you instantly smile in bliss as all of your concern fades away.

You feel something else pushing into your entrance, and it takes a long moment to realize what it is as you feel it slip up your stretched out tunnel.

Eggs. The creature is filling you with eggs. Instead of being horrified, however, you moan as they continue to move inside of you. There are multiple eggs at once, small and gooey, and they coat your insides with wetness as they make their way to your still stretched out cervix.

You feel them pass through the opening to plop down into your womb, and you cry out and cum hard, pussy wildly fluttering around Tomura’s cock. He lets out a deep grunt of pleasure as he rocks his hips against you, and you feel more eggs pushing into you. This time, a few of them get stuck against a spongy spot inside of you, and you scream out your orgasm, legs shaking and eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Fuck, oh god, shit, Tomura - “ you babble mindlessly as more eggs push into you, “it feels so good, why does it - “

Before those eggs can push fully in, there are already more entering you, and you feel so incredibly full. They drop down into your no longer empty womb, wringing another orgasm from your tired body. The skin of your stomach is stretching, making you look bloated, and Tomura still isn’t done.

You lose track of time completely, only aware of your body twitching and convulsing as more and more eggs push up into you, settling into your womb with the rest of them. Your stomach already looks 9 months pregnant, and you can barely hold yourself up.

Tomura sees this, and he gently picks you up and lays you down on your back. “Pretty mate,” he leans and kisses your forehead, “look so good with my children. Our children.”

“Oh god, no more, please no more, I’m so full Tomura,” you whimper as more eggs push into you. “Please, so full - “

Tomura hums softly at you, and you smile with bliss as the final eggs plop down into your womb.  His movements become more savage, thrusting hard into you as he grunts and groans. The force of his thrusts has you sliding up, breasts bouncing and your belly jiggling. The feeling of the eggs moving around inside of you has you howling out your orgasm, blackness dotting the edge of your vision as you almost lose consciousness.

Finally, Tomura is finished, and his cock begins to twitch inside of you as hot ropes of cum fill you up, shooting directly into your womb where the eggs reside. You sob as you watch your stomach bulge out even more as the creature’s cum fertilizes the eggs inside. You can no longer see the dents and valleys of the eggs along your stomach, and you reach down to gently run your hand over your bloated stomach.

You can feel the eggs through the barrier of skin, and it causes your eyes to roll back at the pleasure. Tomura gives a soft, happy chirp as he places his hand over yours on your belly, rubbing it gently. He pulls out slowly, causing a mixture of your cum and his to gush out of your now gaping pussy.

He reaches down to pick you up as he walks towards a door in the back of the room that you hadn’t noticed before. You’re shocked by what you see when you walk through. It’s an utterly untouched room, still looking brand new and with none of the decay that covers the rest of the basement. There is no bed, but there is a pile of clean blankets and pillows in the corner, piled up high and in a circle.

A nest, you realize. It’s a nest. For you. He tucks you in gently, chirping again as his clawed hand runs over your pregnant belly. “Mate,” he says happily, “my pretty little mate.” He stands up and walks towards the door, turning to you one last time as his gaze narrows and darkens just a bit.

“No running. Don’t want to have to tie mate down.” He continues to gaze at you, as if waiting for something.

“I won’t run,” you say quietly, and the dark look on his face is gone instantly as he beams at you.

“Good mate, good.” And with that, he’s gone.

With his absence, some of the haze lifts and you’re able to realize the horror of the situation you’re in. Nobody knows where you are, and you’re trapped. Even if you wanted to run, you don’t think you could with how large your belly is. No escape and no help coming for you, and the creature already seems so possessive of you that he’s not going to let you easily escape.

If only you had listened to your instincts earlier, if only you hadn’t been so fascinated with the grotesque, if only you had simply chosen to stay home.

You’ve always believed in monsters. You just never thought you would find one.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Kinktober: @thewheezingwyvern​, @vixen-scribbles​, @katsukisprincess​, @hisoknen​, @trafalgar-temptress​, @leeswritingworld, @burnedbyshoto​, @bakugotrashpanda​, @dee-madwriter​, @kittycatkrissa​, @reinawritesbnha​, @yanderart​, @dabilove27​, @anxietyplusultra​, @flutterfalla​, @angmarwitch​, @nereida19​, @babayaga67​, @fromsunnywithlove​, @dabis-kitten​, @bakugos-cumsock​, @yumeneji​, @the-grimm-writer​, @iwaizumi-chan​, @slashersheart​, @bunnyywritings​, @bakarinnie​, @angie-1306​, @lalalemon101​​, @videogameboiwhowins​​, @f4nficbaby​​, @tenkoshimmy​, @baroque-baby​​, @bbyspiiice​​, @thirstyforthem2dmen​​, @blissfulignorance2000​, @bluecookies02-main​

[cinnamonest]

I am still thinking about modern Xiao being a horrible porn/hentai addict... Why talk to 3D girls (who might get mad at you or say no or reject you and break your heart or judge you) when you have anime girl figurines and porn and girls you can pay online to do things on camera?? It's only logical.

And consequently he has built up a... Collection. Multiple Google chrome bookmark tabs, not even just a single "porn" folder no, our boy has the Library of Alexandria going on over here with organized categories (it's the only organized thing in his life really). And while vanilla things are good, the preferences tend to very clearly lean in a... Darker direction.

Once he *does* get a nice little captive girlfriend, it's only normal to want to try these things out right? For so long all he could do was jerk off to the image of these things... But the back of a girl's throat probably feels a lot better than imagining his hand is the back of a girl's throat. And so far, really, he's appalled that those fleshlights he owns at least one or two of were such false advertising. It absolutely does NOT feel like the real thing. How could he have gone so long thinking cold plastic felt anything like wet and slick and warm fleshy insides? How misleading. To think he had nearly resigned himself to be content with that for the rest of his life.

But now he doesn't think he ever COULD go back to that. It would be torture. Almost seems like a waste of the collection, but he'll never need porn again. Except... as reference material.

His logic is that if she can do it, so can you. I mean, why wouldn't you be able to pull off the same acts as a seasoned porn star? It's the same parts you're working with right? You're just... not relaxing enough. You're too tense. I mean, look, the girl on screen shoves that guys entire dick down her throat with ease, so clearly it's very easy, if you just relax you'll be fine.

Or, stop whining, your body can totally bend that way, with some... Help. Come on, this is only #37 of the 122 positions he has listed to try, and if you don't get them done quick enough he won't remember them well enough to make a comprehensive mental ranking and remember which ones were best.

And anal's not that bad, really. There wouldn't be so much porn of it if it was that bad. See, they do it just fine. You just have to get used to it. It'll just take a few times or ten. But don't worry, it's ok if it hurts or you cry, painal is a favored category for a reason, that just means it's going well and you're getting stretched out so it'll hurt less next time. But it feels really really nice, so, you can't blame him for not stopping, right? What, you want him to pull out?? Do you realize how utterly torturous that would be? Cruel, even. You can't honestly expect him to pull out of you, when just railing you harder and cumming deep inside is an option, can you? Besides, it'll help you get used to it.

He finds credible resources (read: pornhub tutorial videos and reddit threads) on how to... Properly train your body. Lots of plugs and lube. And you can have a dildo to practice deepthroating and train your gag reflex while he plays games. For that purpose only. Don't think about using it for anything else. Make sure you practice breathing exercises too so you can hold your breath.

As much as he likes watching it, though, he's not quite patient enough for the rope stuff. It's so complicated. You two tried it once, but it takes so much time that he could be spending balls deep in you already. Well, there's always the type of restraints that can be easily locked on and off instead.

It occurs to you from a glance that some of the... Preferred categories are a little concerning. Facial abuse and heavy bdsm and lots of titles with words like "forced" or "brutal" in them. He doesn't seem to think anything of it when he loads a page on his phone and holds out the video as a demonstration of what he's talking about doing with you, and doesn't get why your eyes widen with horror and you cringe as your watch some of the most brutal acts of intercourse you've ever witnessed go down. Why are you shrinking away? It'll be fun. This is only like, slightly a bit non-vanilla, really.

But, also, you seem to have another problem. You just whimper kinda quietly. You don't squeal and scream the same way the porn girls do. Hmph. Well, whatever. That's only a minor issue. What's much worse is that, apparently, rawing you for a minute and a half with no foreplay whatsoever doesn't make you cum? Why is that? It's supposed to, you know. That's what they do.

See, again, you're not relaxing enough. If you did, you'd scream and squirt from like 45 seconds of rough PIV too. Or maybe the issue is a mental block. You're still insecure and getting over this whole "trapped here forever" thing. Well, practice makes perfect. Once you go at it a lot more times, you'll get more comfortable.

Besides, he already made a forum post asking how to get you to like him more. A follow-up post to the whole "how to get this girl I like to date me?" one he made a few months ago, where they told him to "be direct", which he thinks he followed pretty well by snatching you off the street directly into his car. Internet stranger advice worked before, so it'll work now, probably. And their advice is to just keep having more sex. There was something in there about asking you what you want, but he thinks that was less important.

[unolvrs]

hi uno! do you have any book recommendations?

yes! though, i haven't read much books for a long time because of school and maybe lots of these are ones you've read before. but here are most of what i like! i’ll just drop three recommendations for now!

please ask me for anime and manga recommendations.

the temple of the golden pavilion

“Mizoguchi, an ostracized stutterer, develops a childhood fascination with Kyoto’s famous Golden Temple. While an acolyte at the temple, he fixates on the structure’s aesthetic perfection and it becomes the one and only object of his desire. But as Mizoguchi begins to perceive flaws in the temple, he determines that the only true path to beauty lies in an act of horrendous violence. Based on a real incident that occurred in 1950, The Temple of the Golden Pavilion brilliantly portrays the passions and agonies of a young man in postwar Japan, bringing to the subject the erotic imagination and instinct for the dramatic moment that marked Mishima as one of the towering makers of modern fiction.”

rating: 5/5, goodreads: the temple of the golden pavilion

opinion: still one of my most favorite works of all time. as you all know, this was based on a real story of a buddhist monk burning down the golden temple, kinkaku-ji. the way the burning was written was so stunning and i continuously reference it in multiple works of mine such as among dawn flowers (the face of god) and today, i, too, because of it’s stunning imagery and the meaning behind the whole story.

the diving pool by ogawa youko

“From Akutagawa Award-winning author Yoko Ogawa comes a haunting trio of novellas about love, fertility, obsession, and how even the most innocent gestures may contain a hairline crack of cruel intent. A lonely teenage girl falls in love with her foster brother as she watches him leap from a high diving board into a pool—a peculiar infatuation that sends unexpected ripples through her life. A young woman records the daily moods of her pregnant sister in a diary, taking meticulous note of a pregnancy that may or may not be a hallucination—but whose hallucination is it, hers or her sister's? A woman nostalgically visits her old college dormitory on the outskirts of Tokyo, a boarding house run by a mysterious triple amputee with one leg.”

rating: 4.5/5, goodreads: the diving pool

opinion: as an afab, this appealed to me in a way a few books did. ogawa-sensei wrote three short stories about a teenager, a college student, and an adult woman to portray the perspective of a woman, and god, was it so beautiful and painfully real. the characters are unique in their own ways, and do some irredeemable stuff as well, but that’s what makes everything so beautiful. you know the feeling when you’re in a pool or at the very least, underwater, and everything is quiet but heavy? that’s what reading this felt like.

a monster calls by patrick ness

“At seven minutes past midnight, thirteen-year-old Conor wakes to find a monster outside his bedroom window. But it isn't the monster Conor's been expecting - he's been expecting the one from his nightmare, the nightmare he's had nearly every night since his mother started her treatments. The monster in his backyard is different. It's ancient. And wild. And it wants something from Conor. Something terrible and dangerous. It wants the truth.”

rating: 10/10, goodreads: a monster calls

opinion: i cried. i sobbed. i shat myself. there’s a movie and it’s also stunning. that’s all.

lolita by vladmir nabokov

“Humbert Humbert - scholar, aesthete and romantic - has fallen completely and utterly in love with Dolores Haze, his landlady's gum-snapping, silky skinned twelve-year-old daughter. Reluctantly agreeing to marry Mrs Haze just to be close to Lolita, Humbert suffers greatly in the pursuit of romance; but when Lo herself starts looking for attention elsewhere, he will carry her off on a desperate cross-country misadventure, all in the name of Love. Hilarious, flamboyant, heart-breaking and full of ingenious word play, Lolita is an immaculate, unforgettable masterpiece of obsession, delusion and lust.”

rating: ... 0/5 for the main character but 5/5 for the writing, goodreads: lolita

opinion: i’m sure many of you have heard of this book and have some opinions about it. humbert humbert is disgusting and dolores definitely deserves a lot more than what she went through with him. don’t get me wrong. i despise the main character with all my heart but this is such a well-written and beautifully-written book that i still come back to it every now and then to get some inspiration. it shows very good characterization and how an unreliable narrator can affect the perspective of the readers and the whole story in general. in literature’s perspective, it’s amazing. so beautiful, but vladimir nobokov didn’t read this to glorify or romanticize humbert humbert but to show how disgusting he is.

also, if any of you are planning to purchase this, i highly suggest buying the ones with a cover that doesn’t cater to the male gaze like certain body parts of a child, because that makes it seem like dolores was enticing humbert when it’s not. anyway, i hope you read it! but it’s okay if you don’t too. my copy of it has the same cover that caters to the male gaze because it’s hard to find one that doesn’t!

i was supposed to recommend some more like but my whole draft wasn’t saved for some reason :””) 

[user21340]

my only exception

(i don’t own this gif or any of the characters in this fic)

summary: you and nat are separated when in the Red Room. you both are reunited. after holding onto a couple things to give her for a couple years you both realize love is well and alive.

warnings: violence, abuse, swearing, lil angst, fluff

pairing: natasha romanoff x fem!reader

word count: nearly 1.8k

a/n: omg i don’t know what to say! thank you for all the support on the stuff i’ve released so far. it’s super crazy seeing some of my favorite writers following me. thank you so so much for 30 followers! much love 💕💕

(italics in dialogue mean the person is speaking russian)

sorry for any mistakes i wrote this at 3am and have to get up for school at 6 😪 no bueno

It was a cold and stormy night as the power in the Red Room continuously flickered on and off even with the help of a high powered generator.

You and Natalia had been waiting for an event like this to occur so you could break out. Even though both herself and you lived only a small bit of life outside in the real world before you were taken in and trained to become a weapon, both of your humanly morals knew right from wrong. The Red Room’s treatment definitely being a wrong.

Madame B and the other monstrous staff at this facility put all you girls to bed roughly an hour ago. Nat and yourself undid your cuffs connecting your wrist to the metal bedframe so you could pack the few things you both owned before you made your escape. Both of you had talked this plan over through and through so you both were on the same page as soon as you saw that flicker of a power outage surge though the site.

At the moment you both were eighteen years old meaning both of you had proven yourselves worthy enough to hone a spot at this academy and had graduated a couple months prior.

GAME PLAN

Some information you had gathered which the staff weren’t aware of was every time the power flickered off, it disarmed and unlocked the exit door/s for nearly five seconds. The weather has been dry but cold lately not making this discovery too useful. The plan was to sneak over to uncuff yourselves in the middle of the night when these brief power outages were occurring, pack your items, and as you were about to escape bang on the wall of the large room where the girls kept at the academy would sleep to create enough of a distraction before you were out and free for good. Easy right? How wrong you’d be.

When it was time for the distraction, Nat stood by the door waiting for the next surge of lightning of whatever broke the electricities stability as you walked to the far side of the sleeping quarters where you were sure you’d have enough time to bang on the walls and sprint out of that door.

You heard a crash of thunder so you knew your escape chance would be soon. As you were about to start banging on the walls you see a door knob parallel to Nat but far away none the less start turning.

BAM

Lightning strikes, what seems to be right outside of the building. You sprint for the door only to have your arm caught by one of Madame B’s henchmen.

Just like that the power flickers.

five.

Without much thought you break away from the man’s grasp lunge at Natalia who happened to be at the door.

four.

“We’ll meet again Natalia.” you speak softly

three.

You shove her out of the door with all of your might.

two.

You use all of your remaining strength that you can muster up to slam the heavy metal door closed.

one.

Click

The door locks once again.

“You stupid little bitch. Get over here NOW!” the man practically growls.

You slowly and steadily walk over to the man as he gruesomely pummels and kicks you.

Sure the beatings, mind torture and manipulation hurt, but you’ve never experienced any kind of pain on the same caliber to what being separated from Natalia feels like.

Madame B is more than disappointed, enraged and annoyed with one of her ‘star students’. You receive daily beatings and long, tiresome training hours for helping Natalia escape. Although everyone is ‘replaceable’ in the minds of the staff as well as Madame B, they just lost Natalia so they couldn’t afford to lose you as well.

Months later the beatings finally slow down to a couple a week which you are able to endure. Madame’s mission now is to make a monster out of you by pushing you to and past your limits when training.

One night you finally drift off to sleep. You hate sleeping. It’s a constant replay of your last night with Nat. Only hoping that she made it to civilization safe and sound and is living a normal teens life. However, tonight’s dream is different. In this dream you see yourself shoving your packed-escape bag between your mattress and bedframe as you are bleeding out on the ground from the beatings. You wake up in a cold sweat and manage to kneel on the ground and slowly lift up your mattress only to find that same, small bag filled with the few, but important belongings of yours and Nat’s. You open up the bag forgetting all about what you both had packed. The most important items you see is a picture of Natalia as a toddler with alongside her mother and father, a small metal ring which you had made for her after stealing a small teaspoon at dinner, banging it against the concrete floor with a rock to flatten it out as you’d continuously bend it back and fourth so only the thinnest part is of the spoon is left which you bend into a ring before surprising Nat with it after you know she had a pretty rough day training, and lastly Nat’s papers containing important info about her such as her full name, birthplace, parents names, and birthdate.

November 22, 1984

November 22, 1984

November 22, 1984

November 22, 1984

You make sure you have this date burned into your head, latching onto any important information about her you can learn.

You hang onto those three items keeping them hidden.

Two and a half years later...

It’s late at night when you hear gunshots and fights breaking out throughout the facility. You quickly get up out of bed (once again undoing your cuffs) and grab those three items from under your mattress. You place them in your pocket getting ready to make a break for the outside world. As you reach for the door you turn back taking one last look at the place you’ve been living for pretty much the entirety of your life, only before a man in a funny red, white, and blue costume enters your view.

You bring your hands up ready for a fight.

“Look kid, I’m not here to fight you. We are breaking you out.” the man ensures

“Who even are you?” you sternly question

“Steve Rogers. But the public calls me Captain America.” his gaze settles on your figure, “Mind telling me who you are?” he pushes

“Names y/n, but look I’ve got places to be ma-“ you are cut off when Captain America’s jaw drops.

“No, we both know you don’t. But, you ARE coming with me.” you know there isn’t much room for protest but that won’t stop you from trying. You lunge at him and push him to the ground as you wave a small goodbye and sprint towards the door only for your body to fall on the ground limp. Realizing you’ve been stunned by something temporarily.

“YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” you shriek, he only chuckles.

“God, Nat was right about you.” she shakes he head with a small grin on his face.

“N-nat?” you whisper as you vision fades black.

You regain consciousness and look around only to find yourself in a weird windowy, loud vehicle type thing. You see a group of people standing around you but you see one particular familiar face hovering directly over yours lightly combing through your hair with one one hand and gently outlining your jawline with the other.

“NAT!” you screech, your brain is feeling too many emotions to comprehend at the moment.

Once she sees and hears you are awake she pulls you into a bone crushing hug.

“Y/n/n I’m so sorry I left you and you had to stay in that hellhole for so long alone I don’t know how I would’ve help up it if that-“ you cut her off

“Natalia, all that matters is I’m here with you right now.” you reason.

After getting off of what you learned is a ‘plane’ you and Nat spend hours together clinging onto one another as if, as soon as you separate you will be absent in her life for another couple years, vice versa.

Months pass by. Even though you and Nat have yet to label yourselves as a couple your hearts belong to one another after being attached to the hip to one another for pretty much every activity or mission you both do. In this time you were also recruited as an Avenger due to your skillful hand to hand combat and your masterful types of fighting you have nearly perfected from your time in the room.

The date just happens to be November 22. You are pretty sure no one in the compound is aware of Natalia’s birthday, hell, you aren’t even sure if she’s aware.

Today is the day you decide to return the missing items from her bag that you recover after she left.

You wake up next to her and wake her up with a long, graceful, soft kiss on her lips to which she responds shortly after by kissing you back as you feel as tiny smirk against your own lips.

“Hey, what was that for?” she asks playfully

“Ohhh nothing. Just maybe it’s for my favorite girl’s special day today.” Nat blushes.

“H-how’d you know?”

“Oh honey, I know e v e r y t h i n g.” you reply

Before she can respond you pull her to sit up on your shared bed and hand her an envelope containing her papers as well as he one and only photo of herself and her family.

As soon as she sees both items she sobs into your chest. (more because of the picture, you really only included her papers so she too would know all the most crucial parts of her life pre-red room era.

“Uh, uh, uh’” you tut,”One more thing.” you reach for her hand slowly and tell her to shut her eyes. You slowly slide the makeshift ring on her finger.

“Open.” you instruct

To which she gasps at the sight and just like the day you both were reunited you hugged and kissed for hours on end.

“Nat, will you be my girlfriend?” you ask with a sheepish smile.

“Of course y/n/n, I thought you’d never ask.” she takes a breath,“I know love is for children, but you are my only exception.”

“Ditto.” Natalia chuckles, “That is what the Americans say, right?” you backtrack with flushed cheeks.

She holds you tighter and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Sure.” she breathes out.

[cherryatiny]

𝐃𝐚𝐝! 𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳: 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞

𝐺𝐼𝐹𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒, 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑡 𝑔𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑤𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑠

⩥ 𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠

Letting out a cry of pain from the weird feeling, you woke up from your sleep, sitting up heavily breathing, you clutched your arms around your pregnancy belly softly not to hurt the baby. Hugging it and cooling down your breathing, trying to comprehend what has just happened.

Many paranoic thoughts filling your mind. Is something wrong? Did something happen to the baby? Thinking about the worst scenarios, another one of those weird tumbling motions occurred in your swollen belly. Bending down to place your ear on the top of your belly of 5 months, you caressed it, trying to feel the twitches again.

Looking to the side, you placed your hands on your sleeping husband Hongjoong, gently shaking him to wake him up.

His sleepy eyes slowly opening, trying to get used to the darkness in the room. „Mhm, what is it, baby? Did something happen? Why did you wake me up for?“ hardly understandable mumbles left his mouth as he laid in his place, not moving a bit, still not woken up.

„Joongie, I think that... the baby just kicked.“ swiftly sitting up after those words came out of your mouth, his widened eyes in shock. „Really? Did the baby kick? Oh my-“

Hongjoong did the same thing as you did, laying his head on your belly, his hands wrapping around your bottom, trying to feel anything. And as the baby kicked again, your belly moving softly under his head.

Hongjoong almost jumped out of his place in amazement as he felt that. „Oh my Y/N, that was-your belly just moved, I felt it. Oh my God your baby just moved.“

Tugging up your top to expose your baby bump, he planted kisses on it, still astonished from the new feeling of a baby moving inside your body. „My baby? It's your baby too, it's our baby and it moved, Joongie.“

You both giggled cutely at the new feeling, it all felt so real, now that you could really feel your baby. „Come on, let's get back to sleep, you have to rest.“

Going back to sleep, he spooned you from behind, his arm embracing you close to him, caressing your baby bump until you fell asleep again.

⩥ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐰𝐚

„Y/N do you know where is the bottle with caraway seeds?“ Seonghwa shouted for you to hear, rummaging all over the kitchen, trying to find the seasoning he was looking for.

You were laying on the couch, resting with a book in your hands, since any excessive movement made your pregnant body tired. One eye on the flavescent pages of the book, the second one looking out for your husband Seonghwa who was cooking you two a meal, making sure he didn't hurt himself or mess something up.

Even though Seonghwa was a great cook, he was a bit clumsy so occasional cuts on his fingers weren't that occasional. Suddenly a dull pain hit your belly, causing you to cry in pain, wrapping your arms around your swollen belly.

As Seonghwa heard your painful whimpers, he dropped the knife he was holding, cutting his finger, but that wasn't what he cared for, immediately running over to you.

„Ah fuck it- Princess! Are you okay? What's happening? Is there something wrong?“ kneeling in front of you, letting his hands fall onto your knees. Your head lowered down, trying to overcome the pain that hit your ribs and abdomen.

„Ah, I don't- don't know, it just suddenly started to hurt so much. As if you hit my ribs with a bat.“ his worried expression turned into a soft one in a blink of an eye. „Isn't it... our baby kicking?“

Getting the pieces of information that flowed through your brain together, you realised that Seonghwa might have a point.

„Aww Y/N, I'm so sorry for what our baby is putting through, come on lay down, I'm gonna bandage my finger, and I'll give you a massage, maybe it'll relieve stress, what do you think?“ nodding you laid down, still not over the pain your baby just gave you.

Seonghwa ran back to the kitchen for a second, rummaging over the boxes of medicaments and this type of stuff, trying to find a plaster to wrap his finger in before going back to you and sitting on the couch. He laid your head on his lap, his hands massaging your stiff shoulders in circular motions while singing to you, trying to help you relax.

⩥ 𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨

The weekend always meant Yunho's well-deserved rest. Usually, the two of you spent a weekend together in bed, lazily cuddling and watching series you abandoned throughout the week. Today was not any different.

Laying in the bed under piles of comforter, you nuzzled your back into Yunho's chest, letting out small mewls at how comfortable his presence was. Ever since you got pregnant, Yunho treated you like the most fragile crystal vase in this world.

His arm wrapped around your baby bump protectively, the other arm laid under your head. Watching the characters move on the screen of your notebook, your attention fully captivated.

You were on the edge, almost not breathing from the unexpected plot twist, when your swollen belly twitched lightly. Frowning your eyebrows at the weird feeling, it was as if butterflies were flying in your stomach.

But the nervous twitches did not stop, yet, they only intensified. You remembered an article you read a month ago, about how to distinguish when a baby kicks or moves. Concentrating more on the feeling, it was the same as described in the article.

Turning around to look at Yunho, his eyes closed as he was probably napping. Shaking his shoulders to wake him up, he opened his sleepy eyes. „Yunho...“ humming tiredly, he tried hard not to knock out, but listen to what you had to say.

„Remember the article? I think our baby moved...“ His no longer sleepy eyes opened widely, looking at you with excitement. „Really? How does it feel? Oh I can't even imagine it, let me touch.“

His loosened grip around your belly now tightened, his hand roaming all over your belly, trying to feel anything. „But I don't feel anything Y/N.“ pouting at you sadly, from not being able to feel his child kick.

„It's because the baby stopped moving, Yuyu. I'll tell you the next time it moves.“ He nodded dejectedly and laid back down, holding you close to him as you two resumed the series while waiting patiently for your baby to move again.

⩥ 𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐞𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠

„That's him, that's the guy. The guy with the black hat is the killer!“ shouted Wooyoung as the aforementioned character of the movie you were watching appeared on the screen.

„Oh my fucking god Wooyoung, I swear I'm gonna sew your mouth one day, try to do this once again and you'll be the one left out when we have the next movie night.“

The boys started scolding Wooyoung as he once again spoiled the movie you were watching, some of them throwing pillows at him.

Switching between the channels you turned the TV off and decided to rather talk together since nothing watchable was on. You listened to the eight men that were discussing their next week's schedule.

Laughing at some of the sarcastic remarks your husband Yeosang made, you comfortably positioned yourself on Yeosang's laps, his strong arms keeping you close and wrapping around your baby bump protectively.

It was as if your baby reacted to the feeling of his dad's hands when you felt some weird twitches and tumbles. Shrugging your eyebrows at the weird feelings you supposed was the baby kicking, you lightly bent forward, your fingers circling over your bump, occasionally poking it to get another reaction from the baby.

„Is something wrong, Y/N?“ queried your husband Yeosang, catching the attention of the others, who stopped in their convo, instead diverting their attention to you.

„I-I think our baby moved...“ as soon as the words left your mouth, all of the boys jumped out from their seat, coming over to you and immediately placing their hands on your belly out of curiosity, leaving you and Yeosang speechless as the 7 men tried to feel your baby moving.

„Oh my god, guys I feel it kicking.“ San immediately scoffed at his words, responding sassily. „Shut up Wooyoung, you don't feel anything, you made that up because you just want to be the first one to feel our little niece move.“

„Get your hands off my wife's bump, you're irrelevant right now. Her dad should be the first one to feel her kick, her uncles are further in the line. Make your own child.“

⩥ 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐒𝐚𝐧

Having to deal with pregnancy was hard, but having to deal with pregnancy when your partner couldn't be present all the time, was even harder. Many would've thought that having an idol husband must be a dream come true - a life out of fanfiction.

But at the same time, you have to deal with an exhausted man who has a packed schedule and hardly any free time. After the two of you got married, San and his group adjusted their schedule to have more time, after all, all the members weren't that young anymore and they also had their own lives.

When you got pregnant San made sure to be there for you as much as he could, it wasn't a comeback season so it was possible. However he was shooting for a drama he was supposed to play a lead role in, so he left for a 'job trip' for two weeks since they were shooting in Jeju Island.

Coming out of your shared bedroom, you yawned, still not completely woken up from your night sleep. Picking some milk out of the fridge to cook oats in, you made yourself oatmeal with fruit and a cup of coffee to eat for breakfast.

Digging your spoon into the bowl, you couldn't get yourself to have a bite. Your stomach feeling somehow heavy. It wasn't like the morning nausea you had in the first trimester, it was just a bad feeling as if someone was squeezing your stomach.

You at least drank the coffee as you sat down on the couch in your living room, turning the TV on to listen to watch some news. You caressed your baby bump out of a habit, it was almost like a routine, every morning when you and San watched the news, he'd always caress your belly.

Sipping on your coffee, you felt a sharp kick to your ribs and stomach, spilling the coffee all over your clothes. You shrugged your eyebrows, mouth wide opened as you tried to hold back your tears from the sharp and tingling pain.

„Ah, I've been carrying you for over 5 months and this is how you repay me with your first kick?“ Saying playfully to your baby even though you knew it can't hear you, you couldn't help but smile at the precious feeling of your baby kicking even though it was painful.

'I should probably say this to San, he'd be happy to know that our baby kicks' you said to yourself as you picked your phone and dialled his phone number, hoping that you won't interrupt anything and he'd be able to pick up.

„Good morning princess.“ you subconsciously smiled at his sweet voice as he called you the pet name he often used.

„Sannie, our prince kicked me. It hurts like hell, he's a strong boy, he must be taking after his daddy.“ you could feel the regret in his voice at not being able to be there when your baby kicked for the first time.

„Waah really? Ah I'm so sorry that I couldn't be there when he kicked for the first time, wait for me I'm home in 3 days.“

⩥ 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢

Chopping some pepper bells, onions and tomatoes, you put the aforementioned vegetables into a pot, pouring a bit of oil and letting it roast on a low heat as you poured some vegetable broth onto it afterwards.

Looking up to see your partner Mingi enter the kitchen with no t-shirt, his sweatpants long hanging as he rubbed his sleepy eyes, from having to wake up after coming home late after his practice.

„Good morning sleepyhead.“ He smiled at you beamingly, brushing his hair with his fingers and pouring himself a glass of water. „Good morning, babe. Woah, I'm so tired, my muscles stiffened as I slept, I must be getting old.“

Laughing playfully at his remark you resumed your previous activity of cooking, pouring some seasoning into the pot.

The sleepy figure of your partner Mingi, disappeared from your sight as he got behind you, his long limbs wrapping around your waist as he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, whining out of the comfort.

„Mingi we can cuddle later, I have to finish cooking, okay?“ He groaned in disagreement not moving a bit as his grip tightened around your '4-month old' baby bump, running his fingers over the material of your tank-top.

You were so engaged in cutting tofu, that you didn't pay any attention to the feelings in your lower belly. Sensing some tingling, you brushed it off, thinking it was only Mingi's fingertips trying to tingle you to make you stop doing your actions.

„What was it?“ Letting out a quiet 'what do you mean' you continued not taking your eyes off the cutting board. „Your belly moved.“ Turning over to look at him, you raised your eyebrows, not getting any of his words. „It didn't move.“

„It did Y/N, I felt it.“ Letting out a small chuckle you turned back. „Mingi, I'm not going to stop and cuddle you, this attempt to make me stop is hopeless.“ as you cut the food, you suddenly felt a movement in your lower stomach.

„Wait, oh my, it really moved. Woah, it must be our little princess.“ tears fell down your cheeks at the new feeling, happiness overflowing your veins. „See? I wasn't lying!“

⩥ 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠

Standing in backstage, you watched from behind as your husband Wooyoung performed their newest comeback's title song on the music show stage.

Swaying his hips and letting out soft angelic sounds off his mouth. Finishing it off as an ending fairy with his serious but hot pose. Bowing respectfully to the cameramen and staff, sweaty figures of the members left the stage as they returned to the backstage, breathing heavily from the dynamic choreography.

„You were amazing guys, as always.“ You exclaimed as they neared you, grateful smiles on their faces. Wooyoung took your hand on his way and you followed him to their changing room.

„Uhm, I'll wait for you outside while you change.“ you stated as you sat on the metal bench that was in front of the changing room. Running your hand up and down your visible baby bump, you closed your eyes, just trying to think peacefully about anything that came up to your mind.

A gentle thud in your womb breaking you out of your concentrated state. You focused on your swollen belly, thoughts running all over your mind. Could it be your son? Not paying attention to the sound of the door opening you still thought about the uncanny feeling.

Since it was your first pregnancy, how were you supposed to distinguish between those feelings?

„Y/N, I'm done, let's go, Yunho is paying for dinner.“ Looking up at his smiling you focused on his deep hazel eyes with little sparkles in them. „Youngie, I think our baby kicked...“

A really loud 'woah' left his mouth along with some cheerful squeals, alerting all the people in the hallways.

„Really? Did our son really kick? Don't play your jokes on me. We'll have to celebrate then, come on, give me your backpack and I'll treat you the best meal of your life.“

„You? Didn't you say Yunho is the one who's paying?“ you remarked playfully in the mood to tease him for every detail he says. „That's just a bare detail, come one honey.“

⩥ 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨

„What can I get for you?“ asked the young waiter dressed in a uniform with the logo of the café you were in.

„She's pregnant and she shouldn't drink much caffeine, so one strawberry and one watermelon lemonade.“ ordered your husband Jongho, before you could even open your mouth to say something.

Turning to face his caring and lovely smile, you pouted at him, for not giving you a chance to order something yourself.

„You know I can order for myself? And I didn't have any caffeine in a week, so I could at least have an iced latte.“ He shrugged his shoulders, as he gazed around the café.

„It's not about the caffeine right now. Do you remember? We had our first date here and drank the same thing, I just wanted to recall the memories.“ You smiled as you replayed those reminiscences in your mind.

„Who would've thought that a bundle of joy will come out of the single date, I can't express how happy I am. I still remember that day, I was so nervous and embarrassed myself so many times that I thought you would've never wanted to go out with me again, yet you did.“ you smiled at his remarks, thinking about how he almost tripped on his own foot from how nervous he was.

„I did. And there wasn't a time when I regretted, going out with you was the best choice of my life.“

As the waiter was approaching you with the lemonades, you felt fluttering movements occur in your lower abdomen. Jongho noticed the grimace on your face as you lightly hugged yourself, but waited until the waiter left.

„Is something wrong Y/N?“ You looked up to meet his worried face. „I- I don't know, there is a weird fluttering feeling in my stomach and it's just... weird.“ You answered as you took a sip of your tasty lemonade, his gaze softening.

„Y/N, it must be our baby, he started kicking, don't you think?“