#this is pretty much comic dream but let me have this

[sleebyplampts]

[astralnymphh]

jackson!ellie (yeah, again.) fluff. slightly suggestive at the end. just another branch of how i think ellie acts around her crush. no tension between her and joel. mdni. img from @/kittaeria on pinterest.

jackson!ellie loves dressing up, just for you. while it may stray far from what is depicted and adorned in a modern society, it still counts. having joel wash and iron her finest sunday flannels, shine her boots, trim her nails—it all counts. “wanna leave an impression, don't ya, kiddo?” the words left to simmer on his bathroom door echoed with her as she hesitantly pulled a few strands of hair, letting them frame her queasy yet stoked countenance. her smile would not settle.

envirornment influences impressions, too—but, you both agreed the tipsy bison was not private enough nor was the june summer befitting of a bonfire; who said a garage couldn't be painted into a rosy picture?

joel attempted to converge a pretty bouquet; he had done it twenty-something years ago for sarah on her birthday, but his gardens are slim of flora, and sometimes daisies suffice. they sure seem to as you bless her cheek with a kiss and proceed to give her a ribboned cluster of your own garden—brighter, sensorial, something you'd only ever see in dreams. better to leave the bouquets to you next date, yeah?

“aw, did your hair all different for me?” you caress the seams; draw fingers over the fine details, such as that little sprig of hair. ellie knows you prefer it this way, even if really, it remained nearly self-same. she halfs a scoff and a laugh to herself, “psh—well, it's not that much different.” being humble, eyeing her freshly clipped nails. a symbol of attentiveness in love. “thought it would get messed up anyways, so..” and she glances up at you for confirmation, with that stupid fucking smile. well, it would in fact get messed up as you push her on the bed, softly kissing her face into vermillion reds and unwinding under the thin sheets, reading dumb comics—or doing something that rids her of those nice clothes.

whatever makes her rasp, “mhh, can you stay for the night? can't stand sleepin' alone anymore.” with her pretty, rosy lips.

[missmatchablossom]

summary: you finally got hired to work as a teacher for your dream school, jujutsu high. everything was perfect until you ran into gojo satoru, your first love and heartbreak.

a/n: angst + fluff, female reader. this is the first time I've written a story more on the angsty side, so please let me know if you like it : ) I was feeling angsty after listening to eternal sunshine and bam this story suddenly came to me

tags: @kenqki @sad-darksoul

~

When you caught a glance at that familiar shade of blue, you froze. That specific hue was a color you avoided at all costs, the color of heartbreak and dreams you never followed.

He looked at you, and suddenly you were 18 again. It was simultaneously the best and worse year of your life; the year you fell in love with Satoru, and the year he left you. 

Your heartbeat felt sickening in your own chest as he walked towards you, his eyes widened and jaw slacked as if he were in a trance. Like he hadn’t expected to see you again.

It’s not like you thought you’d see him again either. You had told yourself that even if you did, it wouldn’t hurt, because you’d moved on. It had been years since you gave up on him, so you should be feeling nothing as your first love came to a halt in front of you, gazing at you as if you were the only thing that mattered to him.

It didn’t feel like nothing, though. It felt a whole like despair, relief, and joy warring with each other, causing your fingertips to tremble as if your body couldn’t decide which emotion to settle on.

“Long time no see, Gojo,” you said, attempting to offer a warm smile. Though the tremulous note to your voice must have betrayed how you were truly feeling.

He frowned ever so slightly when you said his name, like he wasn’t used to you calling him by his last name. It was formal and cold - when things between you two used to be anything but. 

“You’re here,” he said, though it sounded like he was saying it to himself rather than talking to you. 

“Ah, Gojo. I see you’ve met our newest hire. She’ll be working with your students for the summer, I imagine you two will be working together closely,” the principal said. But Gojo wasn’t looking at him. You still felt the heavy weight of his gaze, like he was scared you’d disappear if he looked away.

“Why don’t you two grab lunch together? Gojo can catch you up on his students,” the principal said. So why did your body go rigid at his harmless suggestion?

“Sorry, I have to make a phone call during lunch! Gojo, feel free to email me any details I need to know,” you said quickly, smiling before you darted towards the courtyard.

You cursed yourself for running away, like a coward. What was there to be afraid of? He was someone you loved years ago, and time washed away any lingering feelings you had for him…right? 

At least that’s what you’d always told yourself. But maybe deep down, you feared some of those feelings would never go away. And that they’d definitely resurface if you let yourself be near him, if you let yourself remember how much he used to mean to you. How badly he hurt you.

You shook your head, hoping the crisp morning air would wash some sense into you. This position was your dream job, and you weren’t gonna let your past demons take that away from you. You could be civil, you could work with him like the mature adult you were. It would be okay.

~

“I wonder if our new teach would tell me where she gets her lipgloss?” Nobara asked aloud, walking in step with Yuji and Megumi as they filed out of the classroom.

“She’s really pretty,” Yuji said, smiling cheesily. It was a buzz amongst all the students actually, how beautiful the newest teacher was. The students warmed up to her quickly, captivated by her knowledge and how easy she was to talk to. 

“Gojo always looks like he’s in a trance whenever he sees her,” Megumi said, making his two companions snap their attention to him.

“Do you think they’re dating?!” Nobara nearly yelled, her eyes widening comically.

“Maybe not. They both look kinda sad when they look at each other and they think the other person isn’t looking,” Megumi noted, looking deep in thought.

“Woah, you’re so observant. Maybe they’re exes, I heard they knew each other when they were younger,” Yuji said.

“Eh? No way sensei could pull someone like her,” Nobara said.

~

Two weeks have passed since you began teaching, and you loved it. Plus, you’d managed to have as minimal contact with Gojo as possible. Things would be fine after all.

You stepped into the teacher’s lounge, eager to grab your bag and head back home now that the day was over. But your bag wasn’t on the hook where you usually hung it up. When you turned around however, Gojo was leaning against the doorframe, taking up nearly the entire frame.

“Can I help you with something, Gojo?” you asked politely, willing your heart to settle down at his proximity.

“Can we talk?” he asked, and there it was again. The inexplicable feeling that swarmed your senses whenever you heard the sound of his voice, no matter what he was saying. Your traitorous body responded to it no matter how much you told it not to.

“Um, tomorrow might be better during our free period! I’m actually looking for my…” you began, stopping your sentence as Gojo used two fingers to effortlessly lift your heavy bag.

“I’ll give this back to you when you agree to have dinner with me. Tonight,” he said, flashing a boyish smile at you that was oh so painfully familiar. 

“You can’t be serious,” you said, crossing your arms as Gojo took another step towards you. He was so close, and much taller than you remembered. He seemed to take up the entirety of the room you were in, making it harder to breathe and think clearly.

“I thought you knew me better than that, tea. I absolutely am,” he drawled, and the butterflies in your stomach swarmed at the mention of his old nickname for you. Hearing it used to fill you with love and light, because he began calling you the endearment after learning how much you adored tea. He’d often show up at your door with your favorite drinks, happily indulging in your obsession. 

You blinked the memory away, refocusing your gaze back to the man in front of you. 

“This isn’t funny,” you said, reaching towards your bag. He lifted it up and out of your reach easily.

“What isn’t funny is how you’ve been avoiding me since you got here. Why can you barely look me in the eye?” he said, the slight hurt in his voice hitting your heart. Your eyes darted around the room in a panic before you answered.

“Can you really blame me? We don’t have the best history,” you said, your voice coming off harsher than you intended. 

“That’s what I want to clear up. Just hear me out this once, please,” he said, his tone softening as he spoke. You hated it, how quickly you could feel yourself giving into him. After a beat of silence, you spoke.

“Just this once,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. 

There it was. That familiar, triumphant upturn of his lips. 

~

You second guessed your choice as you walked towards Gojo’s car - a sleek, navy luxury car you remember he’d gotten for his 18th birthday. But there was no way he didn’t have other cars by now, so you couldn’t help but wonder if he picked this car today on purpose.

He swiftly opened the door to the passenger seat, allowing you to slip in before he slid into the drivers seat.

There was something undeniably intimate about being alone in the car with him. Being in such close quarters meant you could smell the cologne clinging to his skin, the minty remnants of the mints he always carried with him. You felt bespelled watching his long fingers wrap around the wheel, blushing as he wrapped his arm around your headrest and leaned towards you to look behind him as he backed out of the spot. 

A memory flooded towards you. Of a freshly 18-year old Gojo excitedly picking you up in his shiny new car, nearly getting you into a car crash as he carelessly spun the wheel in his excitement. You’d given him a firm talking to about him being careful, and he smiled at you sheepishly before he walked you to get ice cream. 

The sound of buttons clicking pulled you from your reverie. You watched wordlessly as Gojo set the seat warmer to the lowest setting and turned the ac up to 71, the exact settings you used to switch them to whenever you were his passenger princess.

“Is that still how you like it?” he asked, casting you a quick sideways glance before returning his eyes to the road. You wondered if you imagined the hopeful note to his voice.

“Yes,” you answered quietly. 

Oh , I definitely still like it, you thought, eyes roaming across Gojo’s figure as he drove. His seat was leaned back to make room for his long legs, and he kept one hand on the wheel as he drove with the elegant ease he must’ve developed in your time apart. It was stupid, how attracted you still were to him.

You didn’t miss the way Gojo glanced at you ogling him, the corner of his lip tipping up like it so pleased him.

~

You followed Gojo into a gorgeous restaurant that you were undoubtedly underdressed for. A smartly dressed man greeted the two of you immediately, leading you to a table right in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. It offered you a gorgeous view of the skyline, the soft glow of the sunset making the silverware sparkle. 

You couldn’t help but look around in confusion at the quietness of the restaurant - save for the nice host, you were the only ones there.

“I booked out the place for the night. So we could catch up in peace,” Gojo said easily, as if that were something normal to do. You couldn’t say you were too surprised though, as he had the same penchant for spending and the fortune to back it since he was younger.

“Of course you did,” you said, shaking your head as you smiled to yourself.

Gojo leaned forward in his seat, studying you like you just performed magic.

“I’ve missed that smile of yours,” he said softly. It wasn’t fair, the way the last bits of sunshine of the day lit up the gold  flecks in his eyes. The way his hair nearly shone silver, making him look otherworldly as he told you he missed you. 

“I don’t know what to say to you, Gojo,” you said, forcing neutrality into your tone. But as soon as you spoke the words, you could hear how sad they sounded.

“Do you hate me?” he asked, sounding like his younger self once more. 

You met his eyes, releasing a deep breath as you did your best to offer a smile.

“I don’t think I could ever hate you,” you admitted, watching the way his shoulders eased ever so slightly.

“But you hurt me,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

“I was ready to stick out long distance when you moved away. You stopped answering my calls, responding to my letters. I tried reaching you for months before I gave up, Gojo. There was no goodbye, no explanation. What was I supposed to think? How do you expect me to greet you with a smile now as if nothing happened?” you said, your voice cracking towards the end. 

“I know we were 18 and stupid, but I…” 

I loved you. You were everything to me. And no matter how much time had past, how much you dated around, no one ever compared to you.

You shook your head, unable to get the words out.

It would forever be fresh in your mind, the day you found out Gojo was being shipped off to a different country by his stupid family to train. 

The devastation was overwhelming. You curled up in your room, crying into your pillow as Gojo sat silently on the edge of your bed.

“Do you really have to go?” you sniffed, though it didn’t sound like that, with your throat clogged with tears.

Gojo laid beside you, pulling your back to his chest as he held you and buried his face in your hair.

“I don’t have a choice, tea. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking off at the end. You turned around, wrapping your arms around him as he held you brusingly tight. You rubbed his back as you felt his tears hit your shoulder.

After the cry you both needed, you faced each other silently, as if you were committing each other to memory.

“I won’t give up on us. I’ll call you everyday to bug the hell out of you,” he said, giving you the first lopsided smile of the night.

“For how long, though?” you said sadly, feeling the hope leeching out of you with each word you said aloud.

“For as long as it takes for me to become the strongest. And for you to become the teacher you’ve always wanted to be. I’ll come back for you,” he promised, lacing his long fingers through yours. There was hope alight in those eyes of his, convincing your own hope to stay.

“You promise?” you asked, sounding so much more like a young child than you wished.

“I promise.” he said, and you kissed him then. There was something so magnetic about him, the type of person that made you want to believe anything was possible. But you hadn’t known that would be the last time you kissed.

You had no way of knowing that your boyfriend would keep up with his promise for a month, and then suddenly leave you with nothing. He stopped responding to your letters, stopped his calls, stopped reminding you how much he loved you. The only time you ever heard about him was when the news featured his growing talents.

The sound of Gojo’s voice ripped you away from the memory.

“You have every right to be upset with me,” he began, his cerulean eyes betraying his grief.

“Was there someone else?” you asked before you could think better, cursing yourself.

“No,” he said forcefully, wincing like it hurt him for you to think that.

“There was never anyone else. Never,” he said, and you couldn’t help the relief flooding your chest.

“They got in my head about you. Convinced me that I was holding you back, that you could never focus on school enough to become a teacher good enough to teach at Jujutsu High if you were in a long distance relationship with me. I thought I was doing what was best for you,” he said, his voice low and regretful as he spoke. 

The man across from you blurred as tears filled your vision. You spent months agonizing over the possible reasons he would abandon your relationship, and your young, heartbroken self was convinced it had something to do with you. That he found someone, and suddenly you weren't his cup of tea anymore. Never did it cross your mind that he thought he was doing you a favor by ghosting you.

“God, Gojo. Why didn’t you just talk to me?” you cried, doing nothing to mask the grief in your voice. 

“I knew you’d tell me that it was incredibly stupid of me. And I know it was now, but back then I thought it would be easier if I made the choice for you. You deserved to have your full focus on pursuing teaching,” he said solemnly, lifting a hand towards your face as if he were going to wipe your tears, but laying his hand back down like he thought against it.

“You’re right, that was incredibly stupid of you,” you said, heaving a deep breath as your swiped the last of your tears.

“But I get why you did it. I just wish you would’ve included me in that choice, because you know what I thought? I thought if you could discard me, discard us that easily, that I must’ve not meant as much to you as you meant to me. That you didn’t love me as much as I loved you,” you said shakily, a single traitorous tear falling down your cheek.

Your emotions overwhelmed you as you saw his eyes begin to shine with unshed tears - a sight that hurt you as much as it did when you were both 18.

“I never stopped loving you,” he said, his voice hushed as he made the confession.

It felt like you were no longer in your own body as emotions assaulted you all at once. Happiness, relief, confusion, devastation. They warred with each other, and you didn’t know if the burst of nerves you were feeling was panic or excitement.

“You don’t mean that. Maybe you still love who I was when I was 18, but things are different now. I’m different,” you said, watching as Gojo shook his head softly.

“You’re right. You have become even more beautiful than I remember,” he began, and you knew you had lost. This wasn’t a game, but somehow you still lost.

“I’ve seen the way you work with the kids. I’m in awe of how confident and capable you’ve become. But I’ve also seen what hasn’t changed,” he said, leaning towards you with the light back in his eyes.

“Your tenacity. Your kindness. Your intelligence. Your drive. The way your eyes light up when you teach, the way you see the best in people. That’s how I fell in love with you, and I know thats still there,” he said, looking at you with the kind of reverence you forgot existed.

You closed your eyes as you failed at calming your thunderous heart. 

“I can’t do this, Gojo. I can’t put myself in a position to be hurt by you again,” you said, casting your eyes down in your lap. You couldn’t bear to see defeat in his eyes.

You jolted as you felt the soothing, painfully familiar touch of his hand over yours. 

“Look at me,” he pleaded softly, coaxing your eyes back towards his. When you met them again, they were filled with warmth, and you believed it. That he still loved you.

“You don’t owe me anything. I’ll stay out of your way if that’s what you want. But I’m not taking back what I said. I’ve loved you since before you were mine. And I always will.” He finished you off by lifting your hand to his lips, a gesture you were still a used to be a sucker for.

~

In the days that followed, Gojo consumed your every thought. It didn’t help that you worked so closely, and it especially didn’t help to see how good he was with the students. He goofed around with them more than a normal teacher would, but he taught them earnestly. No matter how much they complained about his antics, you could tell your students loved him.

It also didn’t help when he began leaving your favorite milk tea on your desk before the start of every school day, earning you a “wow teach, you must really love that tea shop,” comment from Yuji.

It was slightly embarrassing, but you couldn’t deny how much it brightened your day to see that cup of tea sitting on your desk, knowing how much Gojo still thought of you. And it didn’t stop at tea.

Over the course of the next month, your favorite flowers began showing up with your tea. Sometimes, instead of flowers it was your favorite candy. Gojo never lingered around to hand them to you himself, just giving you sweet smiles and waves whenever you locked eyes. You knew it was his way of giving you space to choose, and no matter how cheesy it was, it was working.

~

It was about 3 months after that dinner that you found yourself sitting with the principal for your quarterly one-on-one. You were pleased to hear the praises of your work and the positive feedback he’d received from students regarding you, but something in particular he said had you shaken up.

“I knew you and Gojo would work well together. You both had very moving reasons for wanting to teach here,” he said casually.

“Moving reasons?” you pressed, feeling like you were on the verge of something.

“Oh, yes. I was highly impressed by your years of dedication and experience, you were an obvious choice. But Gojo didn’t have much teaching experience when I hired him, it was really his reason for teaching that sold me on him,” he answered. And you didn’t know why, but your pulse grew uncomfortably quick.

“He told me that teaching helped him feel close to someone he loved. And that person taught him how powerful a good teacher could be,” the principal said. There was a beat of silence, followed by the screeching sound your chair made and you sat up suddenly. You apologized and excused yourself, rushing towards a certain office door.

Your movements were too quick for your thoughts to catch up. You just knew you had to see him.

He wasn’t in his office. Not in his classroom, not in the teacher’s lounge. That sickening panic began invading your senses, reminding you that it wasn’t the first time you desperately searched for Gojo and couldn’t find him.

But you pushed past it and kept walking. You walked until you reached the outer edge of campus, spotting a flash of silver hair atop a hill that overlooked the school. 

You ran towards it like your life depended on it, huffing and puffing until you finally locked gazes with the most beautiful eyes you have ever seen. Though the eyes that normally regarded you with warmth were unusually widened with concern as Gojo ran towards you.

“Hey, whats going on-”

“Why did you become a teacher?” you said, struggling to catch your breath. Gojo looked stunned for a second, staring at you silently as he waited for you to continue.

“Why did you decide to work for Jujutsu High, out of all the high schools in Japan?” you continued, watching as his expression turned pensive. But his eyes shone with all the words he’d yet to say.

“I didn’t intend on becoming a teacher. I just gave it a shot one day, because I knew how passionate you were about it. And I loved it,” he said, staring out wistfully towards the lecture halls.

“As for why I picked Jujutsu High,” he began, turning his body towards you again. He walked to you, stopping until there was barely a step of space between your bodies. 

“I picked it because I knew this was your dream school to work at. I hoped I would see you again if I worked here,” he admitted, smiling sadly. You shook your head in disbelief.

“This was my dream school when I was 18. What if I changed my mind and worked somewhere else? What if I didn’t even become a teacher?” you said frantically, searching for a crack in his resolve.

Gojo reached out, cupping your cheek in his hand. You had no choice but to tilt your head up to meet his, feeling new emotions flooding you at the look in his eyes.

“Doesn’t matter. The thought of seeing you again is what has kept me going all these years. Even if I mean nothing to you now,” he breathed, removing his hand from your cheek. He stepped away from you, giving you the space you realized you no longer wanted.

You didn’t know if you wanted to laugh or cry at this new revelation. But you did know one thing; you wanted Gojo Satoru. You wanted another shot with him.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms around him tightly and burying your face into his chest. He smelled like mint and summer and everything good with the world as his arms immediately came up to hold you to him.

He released a shaky breath as he held you, like he couldn’t believe he’d get to do it again.

“Of course you still mean something to me,” you whispered through tears you didn’t realize you were shedding. Gojo gently pulled back from your hug, capturing both your face between his hands. He swiped his thumbs gently against your tears, that reverent, warm gaze back in those eyes of his.

“What should I make of that, tea?” he asked, tucking an errant strand of hair behind your ear. You realized how much you missed his touch, how you’ve longed to feel his smooth, porcelain skin against yours again.

“You’re gonna have to work reallyyyy hard if you want me to fall in love with you again,” you said, smiling as his eyes widened and his jaw slacked.

Liar. It wouldn’t take much at all.

“You’re giving me another chance?” he said incredulously. You nodded shyly, smiling as Gojo awarded you with the most brilliant, heart-stopping smile. The kind that crinkled his eyes at the corners, the kind that stretched his cheeks, the kind that you had no choice but to mirror.

The breath left your body as Gojo lifted you up by your hips, swinging you around in a circle like the last scene of a Disney movie where the prince and princess reunited. 

It felt like a weight was released from your shoulders as he spun you around, the two of you laughing like teenagers again.

“Thank you,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

~

“They have to be dating, there’s no way they’re not!” Nobara exclaimed, walking to get food with the other first years after class.

“Gojo sensei follows her around like a puppy. I could actually see hearts in his eyes when he looks at her! I swore I even heard her call him Toru,” Yuji said, him and Nobara nodding to each other intently.

“Maybe. Our new teacher has been looking really happy lately,” Megumi said.

[opennwindows]

May I request a smoll eyeless jack x f reader nsfw story? Or headcanons?

eyeless jack x fem reader NSFW hcs

cw: 18+ content, medical kink, breeding kink, biting, blood, kinda disrespecting boundaries?? kinda not??, afab fem aligned reader

a/n: hey let’s all ignore my wildly different formatting for each post until i figure out wtf i’m doing lmfao. i decided to do hcs for this since i enjoy rambling and i have a couple fics already lined up and those take significantly longer for me to write!! i hope that’s okay anon, i just want to get more stuff posted :) also i threw a bunch of random ideas together for this so if you’d like anything else more specific please req again!

sooo we all know eyeless jack is a demon, right? to say dude is into some freaky shit would be an understatement.

- jack has a higher sex drive than most due to his demon tendencies. pair that with the rush he gets after a good evening of organ harvesting and you’re in for a Very Long Night. his stamina is also no joke.

- wear a short skirt? it’s getting cut off with his scalpel. accidentally slice your finger while chopping vegetables? well you better turn off the stove because he’s bending you over it. he senses you’re ovulating? he’s fucking you twice as much.

- if you’re into medical play and getting cut up with surgery tools he will be over the moon.

- if not, you’re gonna have to have a sit down talk with jack. he will do his best, but he can end up viewing you as just a lowly human at times. you’re gonna have to put your foot down sternly to fully gain his respect. he cares about your boundaries (somewhat), it just takes a minute to get through to his human side.

- on that note, don’t even dream of dominating him. he’ll laugh in your face and restrain you if the idea even crosses your mind. the thought of a weaker being telling him what to do during sex is comical to jack. he might let you ride him if he’s feeling lazy, but his clawed hands will be gripped around your waist as a silent reminder of who’s in charge.

- he’s into degradation. not the typical “you’re a whore” shit. no, this guy will take every chance to remind you that you’re just a fragile little human that’s only breathing because he lets you. if you feed into his ego, jack will reward you with his face between your thighs for hours.

- ooh let me take a moment to talk about this monster’s tongue. godly is an ironic term to describe anything involving jack but it’s the only fitting word. it’s long, slightly textured, quick and strong. he looooves to edge you until you inevitably break and the only words you can form are broken pleas. you’re gonna have to pry him off of you during your periods. he’s a little nasty

- jack will pretty much refuse to cum anywhere that isn’t inside you or your mouth. during sex, he tends to fully give into his animalistic demon qualities. meaning the only thing running through his mind is ‘breed, breed, breed.’

- big corruption kink. like MASSIVE. i think all the pastas have some form of corruption kink, but obviously the whole demon thing brings it to a new level. if you were a virgin when you met him, he’s gonna have to physically restrain himself from pouncing on you the second its brought up in conversation.

- let’s talk about positions. jack’s not really picky as long as he’s fucking your brains out but he does have a few favorites. mating press is almost always a winner since it feeds into his need to breed (i crack myself up). missionary is a classic that ensures he can have complete control. jack is also a fan of fucking on operating tables???? don’t ask me ask him, he’s odd. his least favorites involve 69, cowgirl, or pretty much anything that involves you on top of him. he doesn’t really get tired so doing all the work doesn’t bother him.

- will 100% spit in your mouth and he doesn’t care if you think it’s gross. get used to it sorry. if you’re into it then you’ve won.

- probably will throw a tantrum if he finds out you masturbated without him. he’s given you so much special attention and you still want more? well. he’s gonna fuck you so hard that you’ll be too sore to even think about touching yourself. i’m praying for you girl good luck.

- LOVES TO BITE ON YOUR CHEST AND NECK. i cannot stress this enough. and he WILL draw blood, i mean his mouth is full of sharp teeth so it’s basically a given. bro will be fucking you and straight up take a drink break FROM YOUR THROAT. be prepared to never show your neck or cleavage in public ever again. unless you’re into that. then you go girl, we’re all cheering for you.

- jack thinks it’s hilarious to say terrifying unsexy shit during sex. “i can’t wait to cut you open and eat those delicious kidneys that belong to me….” you just look at him with your mouth open. you’d be better off ignoring his annoying ass he (probably) doesn’t mean it.

[imrllytootiredforthis]

stray kids reaction to pegging for the first time:

a/n: ignore any grammar/spelling mistakes, it isn't proofread and probably won't be😭

and as always, 18+, minors dni

Chan:

Okay first let’s talk about how it was brought up,

you probably have to bring it up first

And his reaction? He’d act all blushy and embarrassed, surprised in an almost comical way

like “I-i mean i gu-guess, only if you wanted too tho...”

“I do want to, but also if your gonna watch that typa porn and don’t want me to see baby, delete the browser history”

lmao💀

He’d also say he wants take it really slow, and i mean really slow

talking about how the first time he just wants you to feel around him there, test out the waters but not penetrate him yet, give him a handjob or whatever as you do that

the next time he wants just your tongue,

the next your finger,

then two fingers,

pretty much working up in size slowly until you actually use a strap

he’s very cautious about the whole thing in the beginning, so worried and nervous that it's gonna hurt/he's not gonna enjoy it/you're not gonna enjoy it

but the second you’re actually doing it, ‘feeling around’ as he had called it, he’s already begging for more

yeah, you’d ended up doing all of the carefully week long process he’d set up, every little step, in a single night

The second your hands are on his hole, lube already warmed on your hand, fingers all slippery-

he’s begging for more, shoving his hips backwards in hopes of enticing you more

gripping the sheets, trying to reach for you, heavy breathing and flushed face,

baby boy wasn't expecting for it to feel this good

practically breathless as he pleads with you to just push your fingers inside him

and when you do, he’s going cross-eyed with pleasure, legs instinctually wrap around your hips, pushing you further into him

He can barely even believe how good it feels and how he hasn’t tried this sooner

don’t even get me started on how he reacts when you find his prostate

he’d probably cum just from that and then start begging you to actually fuck him, whining in a half-dazed mess about how he needs it, needs you, needs more

Felix:

All I can say,

Is that he’d pretend to be SO surprised, pretend he had no idea you were gonna bring this up,

Like he hadn’t been dropping hints and waiting for you to smarten up and decipher them all this time

Kinda gives it away though because when you bring it up he’s nodding eagerly, jumping on you immediately 

Because you made him wait so long for this

You whisper to him, reminding him that you still need to actually buy the strap

No you don’t.

Surprise, surprise, baby boy’s been ready for this for a long time 

He’s had one stashed under your bed in a pretty box with a perfect little red bow for practically forever

(Used for lonely nights on his own and dirty fantasies for a little angel such as himself)

Now he’s obviously used it on himself many times before this, experimenting and dreaming and wishing you’d walk in on him

But it’s nothing compared to when you do it

It feels so much better when you do it

He can’t even contain himself, practically shrieking in pleasure

I’d actually advise you to gag him at that point, he’d look pretty with a ball gag but the way his eyes roll back if you shove your underwear in his mouth is delectably sinful 

His nails claw into your back, legs hooking up and around your hips, already drooling from the first thrust

Is obsessed with missionary or the mating press, pretty much any position where you’re face to face and he can see you

Not that he’s doing much seeing with his eyes rolled back

I can’t stop thinking about if you’re wearing a necklace or something, with a charm or whatever tf it’s called

(searched it up and it’s a pendant)

He’d watch it, swaying in front of his face, swinging with every harsh thrust and then he can’t help himself but to lean up and wrap his pretty, soft lips around it

By the end he’s a mess, ruined beyond belief 

practically dumb as you try to clean him all up, shivering in sensitivity while also begging for more

baby's got an overstimulation kink 100% and that obvious translates to wanting you to fuck him absolutely dumb, making him cum over and over again until he has nothing left to give, a babbling dumb pretty mess<3

and afterwards,

you’re wondering if it was really worth it playing dumb for so long, pretending you didn’t notice his obvious hinting at everything

Hyunjin:

Baby boy just wants to be filled up, just wants to fucked hard and fast until he’s an incoherent mess

And then he wants you to take pictures of him all ruined 

wants you add more photos into the albums in your phone

add to all those compromising photos of hyunjin in a plethora of different positions, with different toys and ropes and you name it, add some more of him sucking on a strap or getting pounded

wants you to send him videos that he doesn't even remember filming, getting ruined with a little message under it saying

'you look so cute<3'

But it’s a fantasy

Only a fantasy

A fantasy that he only lets himself indulge in when he’s alone and pent-up and can’t help but pull out the lube and finger himself

Wishing it was your fingers, wishing it was bigger, wishing that it was more

That you were whispering in his ear, talking to him about how pretty he looked under you

Falling so deep that he can almost believe that’s it’s real

feeling so high off of how good it feels, unable to hold back the noises coming out high and needy as he shoves a pillow under his hips, humping it all the while he continues to scissor his long fingers in his ass

He so, so loud, calling your name, begging for you to go faster-harder

you’re out, you’re not around and no one else is he's allowed to be this loud

But, you are in fact not out, you came back because you forgot something or other and you walk in on this sight

Jesus fuck,

He makes a shocked sound, scared out of him mind when he finally sees you, freaking out and covering himself with the covers,

Beginning to cry quickly from the already emotionally-vulnerable moment he was having

You soothe him, rubbing a hand over his sweat-soaked back, hushing his tears,

And then pull out the strap you’d been specifically saving for this occasion 

He’s gonna go wild,

Seems to lose all composure the second you’re inside of him, his brain completely melting,

Not a single coherent thought in there for the time being

Just filthy little noises for more, for harder, for faster, he cannot get enough

And then when he’s almost about to come he starts to cry, long arms pulling you into him,

Burying his face into your throat, whimpering for you to please, please, please breed him in the neediest, littlest voice e v e r

Minho:

Lee Minho

The Lee Minho, wanting to be fucked like a little bitch?

Those where actually his exact words when you found the dildo he’d hidden in your closet,

It sure wasn’t yours, you think you’d know if it was🤨

So who’s could it be?

Other than the only other person living in your house, the only other one that would know to hide their shit in your closet, under the mountain of clothing there

But it was a cleaning day

So you decided to go through it

And found it

Not your’s, but it’s in your stuff

“Minho! Is this yours?”

Stares at it for a solid ten seconds, you can almost see the gears turning in his head, almost hear the bullshit excuse he’s coming up with and is gonna use in approximately 5 seconds if you don’t shut him up quickly

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

That renders him speechless

“….😦”, “no?🥴w-what? What even made you come up with that idea?🙄”

“😐...really?”

“Please do.”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

He’d try so hard to not be vocal, biting down on his lips, covering his mouth with his arm, clutching a pillow to his face

You remove each one, one after another until finally, finally you get to hear his cute noises

His little mewls and moans that follow right after

His quiet keens and grunted out groans

He loves hates it when you comment on them, cooing about how cute he sounds while you rub your hand tantalizingly over his inner thighs

In fact, just touching his thighs might be enough to make him cum alone

but that’s something to explore another day

You gotta be careful too

Because there is absolutely no way that he doesn’t scratch or bite

Starts off with his lips latched on your collarbone in an effort to not scream, his hands holding onto your shoulders for support, his body reacting with every rough thrust

And it ends off with his bunny teeth digging into your skin so hard that suddenly iron taste fills his mouth, his nails dragging down your back so hard that the flesh tears 

Aftercare consists of him sitting behind you, disinfecting and bandaging up the shallow cuts and scrapes down your back, neck and collarbone

But you don’t mind in the moment

Probably because you, like anyone, can’t help but he entranced by the man under you

Begging to be marked, to be fucked harder, to be yours

Only yours.

When you hit his prostate all he can let out is a strangled noise set between a keen and a cry, struggling to keep his grip on reality as you repeatedly ram into it him over and over,

“Good kitty.”

And then he’s cumming all over his chest, untouched 

Seungmin:

“No.”

That’s it when you ask him

Straight up no, end of conversation, that’s all, goodbye

“…Okay, can I ask why?”

Doesn’t answer you, refuses to talk about the subject, simply not talking when you ask him

But one day he gets curious, not in a horny way or anything, just wondering why you keep bringing it up

Queue pulling up a very nsfw website and searching up pegging

He scrolls through a couple of videos before settling on one

Through the entirety of the 12 minute video all he can imagine is himself as the squirming, moaning man being fucked

and you as the person standing above him, taunting him, asking him if he likes this, likes being fucked like this

The session ends with him in the shower, fingers exploring new places that he had no idea could bring him such pleasure

And as soon as he’s done he’s groaning, cursing himself for not agreeing earlier

Because how the hell is he supposed to bring this up to you?

He can’t find the words, find the way to tell you,

So he doesn’t use words

And you come home one night, calling out for your puppy to come on out, asking him where he is

The only reply you receive is a small “here!” from your bedroom

And fuck, good thing that boy is pretty because he does not need words

Dressed up in some pretty black lacy panties and a sheer robe that you’re pretty sure you bought awhile ago before it disappeared mysteriously 

He sits up against the headboard, watching you with lustful eyes 

And there, beside him on the bed is a dildo he ordered, the harness for it already attached

You look at it before back at him as he slides down the bed, right in front of you and lays back, spreading his legs

“Fuck me?”

And how can you say no?

He finds out fairly quickly that he REALLY loves it

And also REALLY loves doggy

Jisung:

He brought it up very, very soon

Like, probably on your first date he’s already telling you he likes to be fucked in the ass 

or simply just straight up asking you to do it, pulling out a strap from the bag he brought

Promising you it’s clean

And asking if you wanna go to the bathroom

Baby boy is shameless

He’s watched tons of porn, fantasized about being the whining, whimpering boys tied up with a hot dom fucking the absolute shit out of them until they’re incoherent

He’s asked other people to do it to him too

They’ve all said no☹️

And then he finds you,

You who is very open to the idea, at least halfway tempted by the bathroom idea and the other half thinking that there is so many classier ways to go about it

So you say no

And he pouts 

But when you bring home that night and praise and degrade him to the point of tears

Well, he supposes he can be patient

He asks you at least once every day, hoping for the time you finally say yes

But you smirk every time, pulling him close and making him shiver before whispering “no.” in his ear

You say it so many times that the one time he asks and you finally say yes it takes him a second to actually comprehend it

To comprehend that what came out of your mouth wasn’t a no

And when you finally do it you’re gonna bet that he’s loud

Like really fucking loud

Gotta-gag-him-or-the-neighbours-will-file-noise-complaints kinda loud

His voice gets so high too, hitting all them high notes🤭

He’d wanna be as close as physically possible, wrapping his arms around your neck, his legs hooked around your waist, pulling your entire body weight onto him

It makes it a lot harder for you to thrust into him but the way he has such easy access to your neck and ears

Whispering the nastiest shit in the entire history of the world

Boy’s got a mouth on him from all that dirty talk in porn

And he does it all while breathlessly nipping at your neck, squeaking when you hit that sensitive spot inside of him

He’d have the cutest fucked out face

Eyes crossed, drool dripping down his chin, tears spilling over his flushed cheeks

But you’d literally have to wrestle to let him to let go of you so you can see him

Little hiccups and gasps are all he can make out as you coo to him about how adorable he looks

All fucked out and ruined by you

If you wipe up his cum and feed it back to him you could probably get him to cum a second time completely untouched

Baby boy’s never gonna wanna do anything else ever again, 

Completely cock drunk and completely obsessed

Changbin:

He seems like he’d bring it up,

Extremely shy all the while, muttering something under his breath that you can’t hear

“Pardon baby, what’d you say?

Poor binnie, he’s be all blushy and nervous

*clears his throat* “u-um, could you maybe…peg me?”

HES SO FUCKING ADORABLE😭😭

Anyway,

You’d obviously agree because why would you actually ever say no?

You’d quickly order all the things you’d need and the day they arrive he just happened to not be home

Leaving you the perfect chance to surprise your baby

He’d come in, all tired from the gym and needy, just wanting to let you take care of him

He comes in and all the lights are off, he furrows his brows, setting his bag down and calling out your name about to start flicking the lights on,

When he sees candlelight coming from down the hall

He follows it am the way to the bedroom where the entire room is lit by candles,

And then there you are, lying on the bed, looking up at him

“Welcome home binnie,”

He's confused but you pull him into a kiss and he can’t seem to think of anything other than you as your fingers skim over his body, feeling over the bulge in his pants, your tongue slipping into his mouth

He’s panting by the time you pull away

“I gotta little gift for you…well maybe not so little.”

He practically gapes as you pull it from out of a box he failed to miss on the bed behind you

You rub his hand soothingly, gauging his reaction “if you don’t want to do it anymore that’s fine, you can always chan-“

“-I want it.”

You smile and spin your positions so now he’s the one with the bed behind him

And then you shove him down

“Just tell me if you ever wanna stop baby, I won’t be mad, I promise.”

Fuck him hard and rough

Manhandle him, switching his positions every so often,

He obviously likes missionary and you get the perfect view of his eyes rolling back

Doggy is fun, he gets so much more vocal because of how much deeper you can hit inside of him, but you don’t get to see him

I recommend next time placing him in front of a mirror, not only so you can see how pretty he looks when he’s drooling but also so he can too

gets more ruined from seeing how own reflection

Riding is one of your favourites, watching the poor thing moan, trying to go faster, rougher, hit that one place inside of him but he just needs you to do it

Letting him beg and try and get oh-so desperate before he starts to cry, pleading for you to just fuck him

FUCKING HIM AGAISNT THE WALL

HDJDDGJSKDHHD

MANHANDLING HIM UP AGAINST IT, MAKING HIM FEEL SO SMALL AND BLUSH

BEFORE ABSOLUTELY RUINING HIM

*ahem*

Sorry, that was a bit overboard

I also have a fantasy abt pegging him at the gym but that’s also conversation for another time

IN:

Okay, but I really wanna corrupt him…

Innocent little innie, you have to teach him everything, show him how to make you feel good

Every time you introduce something new to him he’s like “😧people do that??”

And so one day when you pull out a strap, asking him if you can peg him,

well baby boy is completely clueless

But he remembers how good you’ve made him feel, pleasure he didn’t even know the human body was capable of feeling

He agrees with little to no convincing 

Ready for whatever you have in plan for him, ready to be swallowed whole by all that is you and everything you make him feel

Sweet doe eyes looking up at you, glassy with sensitivity, wide with wanting

He’d never imagine that he could feel so good filled up

Never thought your fingers scissoring inside him, stretching him open and preparing him for your strap could feel so mind-achingly good

Enough to make his glossy eyes fall shut, for his hands to grip onto the fabric of your shirt, mouth open with small breathy whines filling the room

God, when you press your fingers against his prostate he swears he can see stars bursting across his vision

He can barely think, barely let out the keen that reverberates through his throat, barely breathe

It feels so, so good and he can feel himself melting

But that’s just with your fingers

Once you’ve deemed him prepared enough you pull out, smirk curling at your lips at the whimper he lets out in protest

That quickly shifts into a gasp when you push into him

Goodness fuck, sweet little innie, voice small and shaking,

Hoarse and cracking

“…please~”

Switching positions so he sits in your lap while you lean against the headboard of the bed

Watching his little pants and flushed cheeks,

Drool leaking from the corner of his mouth as he tries his very best not to go completely and utterly insane with how good it feels,

And how much deeper it goes in this new position

Every little shift and movement pressing the head against that sensitive spot inside of him

He’s so needy and desperate he rides you hard and fast, whining when even then it’s not enough, clinging to you like a lifeline

You watch with a bated breath, eyeing each time he moves up, 

Unable to tear your attention yo where he teases you and himself, pulling up so just the tip is inside of him before sinking down just as quick, moaning all the while he’s stretched out again, the entire length sliding inside him with ease

Gasping in frustration as his thighs begin to burn and cramp from exertion

Whining as he paws at you, burying his face into your neck, muttering with a shaky whisper to please fuck him

Your hands tease over his body, ghosting over his hips, feeling him quiver on top of you

Before you finally give in

He practically screams when you flip him over again, starting up a hammering pace that he can barely keep up with

All he can do is mewl and whimper, clutching the sheets and letting his eyes roll into the back of his head

“Good baby, doing so good, just keep doing that.”

That’s his breaking point

Looking at him all fucked out and adorable

You can only groan and kiss his messy lips, red from being bitten, shiny with saliva

And think this was all because of you

a/n: btw, if anyone wants to send me in requests for mtl, reactions or hcs i'd love to do them-they're just sm fun to write!

[neiptune]

it’s valentine’s day, you clown

cw: 1.2k wc, blank blogs don't interact, something something your volleyball superstar boyfriend tooru flies home to surprise you only to pass out on your bed, this is my first ever hq fic and it's a complete coincidence that it's about him please be nice and don't make any assumptions

thank you @moondust-lore for reading this 🤍

His breathing stays regular and quiet as you crawl onto the mattress. Your bed is still somehow comically small and far from ideal to accomodate that unique ensemble of long limbs, sturdy muscles and swooping brown hair. Yet his sleep is serene, features relaxed that fill your chest with warmth that almost prompts your fingers to run through smooth locks. How have they not been rendered thicker or dry by the sea salt yet?

You’re careful as you snuggle closer to his broad back, not really wanting to wake him up. A small smile creeps onto your lips at the thought of how tired he must’ve been, couldn’t even bother to properly slip underneath the covers, knocked out in seconds. Flying all the way to Japan, travelling for almost 24 full hours to surprise someone must do that to a person.

The shock has worn out, the sensation of your heart being one second from bursting and exploding into a million golden confetti has dimmed. Now your head feels clear enough for your mind to be focusing on the important stuff, the mundane thoughts you didn’t have the luxury of dwelling on for months are a messy but colorful vortex. Would he like the usual for dinner? Does the uniform or any shirts need some ironing? Yes, yes, Tooru favors dry cleaners because they’re practical and he’s rich but you desperately want to contribute. You want proof that he’s home, actually home. With his big designer suitcases and wrinkled shirts and ridiculously expensive glasses and a smile that still shifts your world’s axis.

You allow yourself to scoot closer, until your nose brushes against his shoulder. He radiates a comforting  warmth and smells nice as always. Of sunscreen, beaches, the cologne you have bought for his birthday. As you shut your eyes, memories from the previous night start slowly blurring the edges of your consciousness and lull you to sleep.

“Shit! Fuck!” you jolt awake at the unexpected profanities, the last thing you remember dreaming about including tanned skin and a much more peaceful scenery made of rolling waves and golden, powdery sand.

“What… what’s wrong?!”

Oikawa Tooru is looking at your with what could be only defined as a glare. Eyes squinted, accusatory worry lines and all.

“You let me sleep? Why were you sleeping too instead of waking me up? It’s late!” his pitch gets higher with each word and by the end of the fully formed sentence you’re grimacing. The awfully old digital alarm clock on your nighstand flashes a red 11:05 PM.

“I’m sorry!” you panic “I didn’t mean to fall asleep! I know it’s late but I can probably put something together for dinner anyway? Are you that hungry? Wait, actually, let me get something delivered and…”

Now he’s staring with an openly outraged look on his pretty face, which makes you think finishing the thought probably isn’t the smartest idea.

“You… don’t want me to order in? I mean, fine, you can pick any local restaurant or takeaway, I don’t really ca-”

“Are you stupid?”

Ok, well. That feels unfair.

“I already apologized for falling asleep, no need to be a jerk” now you’re squinting your eyes at him. One eye. The other is being relentlessly rubbed.

“You’re right” he sighs and his massive shoulders slump, head hanging low like a wounded animal “it’s not your fault. I’m the dumb one. Couldn’t even set an alarm”

“I think you’re blowing this out of proportion, we can still eat something. If you’re worrying about your sleep schedule, I’m sure I can find some sleeping pills or…”

Oikawa looks at you, exasperated.

“That’s definitely not what I’m worried about”

“What the hell are you worried about, then?”

“It’s valentine’s day, you clown”

You blink back your surprise, his fond eye roll not easing the heat that takes over your face as realization finally dawns on you. “That’s… that’s why you flew here?”

Tooru leans forward to lightly flick your forehead. A car passes down the street, the light bleeding through your shades brightens the room for a moment and you catch the sincere amusement in his eyes.

“Yes, darling dearest. That’s exactly why I flew here. I was also supposed to make plans, take you out on a proper date, rob a flower shop from the inside out instead of passing out and drooling on your favorite duvet”

You stare back at his comical frown for a few seconds more before falling back into your pillows with a chuckle.

“Glad you think this is funny and not irredeemably gross. Stop giggling, let me think. I’m gonna go buy the most expensive champagne bottle and pick dandelions along the fucking sidewalk if I have to, and then-”

“Tooru”

“What?” he’s already swinging one leg over the edge of the bed “I’ll be quick”

“You’re here”

Oikawa snorts.

“Yes, I’m still here. Now, if you could kindly let go of my shirt…”

“I don’t want any of those things. You know I don’t want them”

He huffs and air comes out of his nose. “Yeah, I know. But I wanted it to be special” his tone is petulant but you recognize the real thing vibrating underneath, the genuine disappointment.

“It’s already special because you’re here. The only thing that could make it extra special is you filling this cold, empty spot next to me” you pat the covers with a lenient smile and Oikawa allows himself three seconds, three entire seconds to sulk and flash you those big, wet, sopping eyes with a pout that makes him less of a volleyball superstar and more of a kicked labrador puppy.

You welcome his painfully heavy body on top of yours, sharp angles and hard muscles that somehow melt perfectly in your embrace. He’s holding you so tight, head buried in the crook of your neck, soft hair tickling your cheek.

“I’m sorry” Tooru murmurs the apology quietly and seals it into your skin. You know he truly is, devastated as he always gets when something doesn’t go according to the plan. Always one for grandiose gestures and loud displays of affection, chasing whatever it takes to validate how he feels just in case the other person needs proof, always additional proof heaven forbid they feel neglected or get bored. His confidence wavering, his mind always running 100 miles an hour. Am I doing enough? Am I still enough?

“I love you” you reply for good measure and his arms tighten around your body.

But do I deserve it?

“Thank you for flying across the planet to get to me” you smile into his hair before kissing the side of his head “I missed you”

“I’d fly across the solar system to get to you” he’s smiling too, it’s in his voice.

“Corny” with a grin, you pinch his cheek until he looks up with an exaggerated, pained groan. But before he has the chance to protest, you take his disgustingly pretty face in your hands. 

“Wherever you fly from, I’ll be there to welcome you home”

Tooru smiles into the kiss, chases your lips when you relax back into the pillows.

And I’ll spend my life trying to deserve it.

Good thing he has at least five different Havanna Alfajores variety boxes somewhere in one of those suitcases. And two tickets to fly back to Argentina.

[moresassythanclassy]

Colt and Jody have the best on-screen relationship I’ve seen in years

They may be one of the best relationships period. It’s been almost a month since seeing this and I still can’t get over it. I just love them so much and must now list the reasons why (spoilers ahead):

-Before the accident, they clearly had a genuine connection and cared deeply for each other, even if the relationship was still new.

-Their separation and relationship in general was crucial to the story and not just something thrown in for dramatic effect.

-Colt’s reasoning for disappearing actually made sense (even if he didn’t handle it the right way).

-Colt doesn’t even consider Gail’s offer at first but he’s ALL IN the second he hears Jody’s name.

-Even when Jody’s angry with him for showing up out of nowhere, he tells her how happy he is for her.

-Literally everything about the fire scene is *chef’s kiss*🤌🏼 (and Jody, sorry to tell you this but it’s definitely not a “fling” if you’ve been spinning out over this for the last year and a half).

-Colt’s upset with Gail for lying to him, but more so for the fact that his presence surprised and upset Jody.

-Jody’s the sexy bacon, and she was all along

-Good old-fashioned car cry (this scene was equal parts hilarious and sweet)

-Jody apologizes for the multi-take fire stunt, but Colt says he deserved it. He also wants to make up clipping the camera to her (he’s actually the sweetest🥹)

-High on drugs, Colt goes straight in for the hug and can’t hold back from telling Jody how pretty she is.

-Colt’s celebration when she calls him first, and then he basically drops everything he’s doing to talk to her.

-He drops everything again to help shoot her dream shot, the “one-er”

-Finger guns and Jody inviting him to karaoke

-Gail rips out the rug from under Colt and his only concern is not missing karaoke with Jody.

-“Do you think we’re close to rekindling? I mean it feels like it to me…”😂

-Jody’s heartbroken face when he doesn’t show up😢 She wanted him there so bad. And the subsequent power ballad😭

-He’s literally been dragged across the Sydney harbor bridge and thrown through a car window and a hundred other things and yet he still sprints to try to get to Jody in time.

-Jody doesn’t believe for a second that Colt is responsible for the murder (he apparently spent 23 minutes ushering a cockroach out of her room once and insisted they let it live😂).

-Colt’s “I’m still in love with you” phone call💔

-Jody just knows he’s still alive and isn’t about to give up hope

-She beats the crap out of him when he’s in the costume and he’s so chill about it👍

-“It’s just a stupid movie.” She doesn’t even care about her dream movie she’s spent her whole life working toward. He’s way more important to her than that!🤯😵

-Then he just fires right back and makes it clear he cares about her and her dreams so much more than he cares about himself😩 (what in the selfless-love-in-a-Hollywood-action-film is this!?)

-Her kissing him first😘

-Colt just wants to keep kissing even when they’re interrupted☺️😍

-The reference to spicy margaritas and swimming costumes from a conversation they had 18 months ago

-Colt gets the recording back and excitedly holds it up to Jody, but literally all she cares about is that he’s okay❤️

-Another kiss!

-🎶I was made for lovin’ you baby, you were made for lovin’ me🎶

-He cheers her on at Comic-con

-Jody and Colt and Jean-Claude on the beach being a happy family. What they’ve got is even better than the movies! 👫🐕🌅

What else am I forgetting? Idk but for real, if you haven’t seen it yet you should right now! Even if you have seen it, go buy it and give it the support it deserves!

[phobos-exe]

Reading Wolverine comics after watching the movies has me absolutely falling in love with the "man or animal" motif that follows Logan literally everywhere.

// Marvel Comics Presents (1991): Issue #75

My favourite read so far is the short 4 issue series, Wolverine (1982), which the 2013 Wolverine movie is based on. Bascially it being about Logan trying not to lose Mariko to an arranged marriage and the cultural powers at play to which he isn't privy to. Furthermore, it absolutely dense with character-centered narrative with Logan's inner conflict surrounding the balancing act he must preform between embracing his animalistic side and his desire to be more than the killer he's always been, whilst he struggles with fitting into japanese society and the japanese underground. I could not reccomend it enough. Issue #3 is such a standout for me, all the excerpts provided are from it also.

One of the scenes i think highlight what im getting at with the motif is how Logan actively interprets an event that took place previously in the story. Earlier, he had fought Shingen (Mariko's father) to defend his own honor and for him to overrule Mariko's marriage so they may be together again, ultimately he not only loses but he humiliates and dishonors himself in the process. In this scene, he has a dream about the battle in a sequence that showcases what that humiliation actually meant for him in relation to his internal fight to let go of the animal he thinks himself of.

Despite how undisputable his physical strength is, the defeat he endures against Shingen crushes him and defines his motivations for the entire series. The words Mariko says in his dream, bascially defining him as a fraud and unworthy of her love, and the panel that follows this one saying he is also unworthy of life, is pretty indicative of his fear that his primal instincts- what he defines himself as -negates his noble aspirations to be a better man, overshadowing his morality.

It's also interestingly delved into with how his relationship with Mariko and his following romance with Yukio is contrasted in how they have an effect on Wolverine's internal conflict: Mariko's influence makes him want to strive for self-improvement, to appease her, while Yukio is able to accept who he is

Mariko's influence makes him want to strive for self-improvement, to appease her, while Yukio is able to accept who he is and his nature. The growth and control vs embracing your supposed truth serves as a new perspective to view Logan from. Basically, it's a reflection of how Logan himself is struggling to not only balance both aspects of himself, but also his struggle to accept them in the first place.

Going back to the films, I think they do a good job of adapting this method of symbolizing his self-reflection. For instance, in the origins movie, one of the conflicts I love from it is how this exact concept is adapted to Kayla and Victor. Kayla, being the stand-in for Mariko, motivates Logan to move past his animalistic side, literally telling him "you're not an animal, logan", whilst Victor is the force that wants him to ditch assimilation and embrace his mutations completely, though in this case it's much more violent and psychotic than Yukio's approach in the comic. The film version is a whole new exploration of his characterin its own right since it's more like these two opposing ideas are telling him what he should be, and the consequent struggle between what he should choose.

Though, and this is just my interpretation, what I appreciate most of this theme is that it managed to be so confusing for Logan that it circles back to being ironic. Because yes, he failed Mariko and he failed Yukio, he failed to assimilate to societal standards and he failed to be true to himself- whatever that really is -but I think one of his biggest failings is concluding for so long that he is an animal and therefore not a man, when in reality he has shown nothing but human desires, ambitions to change, to choose. He is an animal, it's just that that animal is a man.

[threepandas]

Like A Dangerous Cat: Yandere!Aizawa

See, here's the thing. (And don't get me wrong, to each their own.) I come across Yandere!Aizawa fics time and again, that forget his crucial truth. This man? THIS man... is fuckin EXHAUSTED.

No sexy body or "ooooh~ IMPRISON ME sempai~♡" energy is gonna motivate him enough to get out of his damn sleeping bag. No today, not tomorrow. Not EVER. He's best friends with Nemuri, for god's sake. He's seen finer tits for far less effort.

And HURTING you? Why would he do THAT? You got something to confess? He has more then a few cops on speed dial. He WILL if he must... but for your sake. Do Not Make Him Do That.

It's his napping time.

He gets that so, SO fucking rarely.

But! Does this mean he can not become a Yandere? Are we cursed to a hot hobo-daddy-less Yandere-free world?

The FUCK it does!

He has SO much love to give. And is that not the CORE of the Yandere? The love? The OBSESSION. Hey, real quick, how much of his personality has he completely reshaped around the hole Oboro left in his life? How far do you think he would GO for Mic? What do you think he would DO?

The thing is? He's not the sort of Yandere that would ever hurt or humiliate his Darling. Oh no, he'd sooner die. Take you all with him. No...

No he's a HERO.

He's gonna PROTECT them. Make them HAPPY. Bask in the light of it, like a cat on a sunbeam. And? HOW he protects them? What he needs to DO, to make sure everything is SAFE? That their dreams come true and their path is full of nothing but rose petal n light? Well... they don't need to know about THAT do they?

That's his JOB, isn't it?

To be a HERO. To PROTECT. Keep watch, just in case.

And? He is the sort of Yandere you'll NEVER notice. Others will. They'll never get the chance to WARN you, but they'll notice. Or, they'll already be so wrapped up in his madness, that it all feels normal.

You'll just... start finding your life easier, all of a sudden. Little things will start going your way. Then bigger and bigger. That creep who kept cat calling you? Finally stopped! The rumored pervert around the neighborhood? Caught! Oh! Look! You didn't even KNOW about this sale!

Wonder how the ad even GOT to you...

Still, you'll brush it off. Pet some cats. Wonder why all the guys who used to hit on you STOPPED. Figure they were messing with you. Oh, hey! Promotion! You buy nicer coffee for the weird hobo looking Hero that uses your balcony as a patrol rest stop.

You DID offer.

Even set up a lil coffee maker out there. Electric kettle. A lockable snack box n stuff. You figured he wouldn't trust food left to the open air. It's suspicious, right? He knocked on your sliding door and asked about it. You guys had a conversation and everything. Was pretty cool.

And? Slowly? He'll pull you in. Vague thank you notes becoming polite but generic "how are you"s. Which of course meanders in to questions about things you mention. Longer responses from you. More and more notes. Until? Oh, he just HAPPENS to be early today...

Slowly, carefully, dragging you into his friend group. Letting Mic do the heavy social lifting. Letting Nemuri do the loud girls nights. Letting you roam free, happy and oblivious. Careful as he peppers in the benefits of working for UA. Good pay, excellent protection, unmatchable care package...

Ah, but he's rambling, you were mentioning your unreasonable boss?

And of course, his friends will tease. He has a "crush". That's one word for what he feels. They suggest dates and hookups. It sounds awful. He has an almost comically low sex drive. You would too, with working hours like his. WOULD he though?

The second you showed interest. In anyway you'd have him. Like it's his life's MISSION to get you off. He'd do RESEARCH. Deep dives. Your computer? Hacked. Your search history? Gone through with a fine tooth comb. He found your smut stash WEEKS ago. Has copies of every title, been going through them like he's studying for a final.

He's been friends with Nemuri for YEARS. Knows things youve never even considered. If not from HER, then from her 18+ Hero work friends. They're loud. He's vaguely annoyed that it actually HAS become useful knowledge.

And? The thought of having you completely, taking you apart, holding you, boneless and soft and warm against him? Makes feels like some horny teenager, for how quick that does it for him. He has FANTASIES of what he would do to you, if he actually had enough time of to be well rested.

Wants to pamper you. Wants to limp, bruised and sore, to your apartment, so you'll WORRY. Want to pamper HIM. Want to focus on him. Pay attention to him. Be soft and careful and gentle with him. Your poor wounded hero...

Ah, he bets he could convince you to let him sleep, propped up in your arms.

It'd be so WARM.

In the meantime? He'll slowly get you used to him. Use Mic to do it. That's right, every hour is cuddle hour. It's good for mental health and hormonal regulation. Perfectly logical, really, to get some casual touch from trusted friends, right? Honestly, there's nothing to see here. He's harmless. Of course he can help braid your hair. Sure you can lean against him. Cold? Let's share a sleeping bag.

He's harmless.

Like a grumpy cat.

A big, dangerous cat.

[starkwlkr]

love potion no. 9 | sebastian vettel

teenage!sebastian vettel

summerween series

Sebastian Vettel was a flop with the chicks. Every girl he talked to would ignore him and walk away. What was wrong with him? Did he have something stuck in his teeth or was it his braces?

He didn’t let it get to his head until he met Y/n L/n. She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Everything about her was perfect. A girl like Y/n could never be seen with a nerd like me, thought Sebastian. She was the prom queen, everyone liked her, she had the best grades and she was most likely going to Yale or Harvard.

And what did Sebastian have? The reputation of being the school’s biggest nerd. How could he ever be with the most popular girl in school?

It all started when a Halloween dance was announced at school. Everyone was excited for it especially since they could wear costumes. Most couples were already thinking about their couples costumes. Sebastian had nothing in mind. He could go as Beetlejuice or maybe Peter Parker (not Spider-Man, everyone dressed up as Spider-Man). His thoughts were interrupted when his dream girl sat across from him at the table. It was study hall and he spent it in the library along with several other students.

“Hi.” Y/n L/n said to him. “Sorry I didn’t ask, but is it okay if I study here? I can move if you want me to.”

“No!” Sebastian said rather loudly. “Um . . I mean you can stay. No one is sitting there.”

Y/n smiled at him then proceeded to sit across from him. She took out her books and notebook and began to study. Sebastian didn’t get much studying done. He kept glancing at her, wondering if maybe he could start a conversation with her. By the time he actually built up the courage to say something, the bell had rung signaling the end of study hall. Y/n was already gone.

“Stupid.” Sebastian whispered to himself.

The days leading up to Halloween dance were pure hell for Sebastian. He heard many rumors that Jason, the most popular boy in school, was going to ask Y/n to the dance. That couldn’t happen, no! Sebastian needed to take you to the dance. Since it was a costume required dance, he needed the best costume to impress you so he looked through his old yearbooks and pulled up the class pictures from grade school. He found her name and read over her likes and dislikes, hobbies, and what she wished to be when she grew up. Every kid had a page like that, some kids changed, no longer liking Barbie or toy cars, but Sebastian never did. He still liked comics, cars, old movies.

You never changed either.

Likes: Star Wars, the color pink, almond M&M’s

That’s it! Star Wars was his answer. It was pretty obvious that Y/n would chose to go as Princess Leia so Sebastian bought pieces of clothing to resemble Han Solo. He hoped that she would be impressed.

The day of the dance finally came and Sebastian was nervous. All around him people were dressed as witches, pirates, devils and angels and what was he dressed as? The captain of the millennium falcon.

He stood around hoping to spot Y/n, but there was no sign of her. Maybe she stayed home . . . This was a stupid idea anyway. Sebastian was defeated so he walked to the gym door and was about to leave when he bumped into Y/n in her costume.

“Holy shit! Han Solo!” She gasped when she saw Sebastian in costume.

“Princess Leia . . .” He cracked a smile. Y/n was dressed in Leila’s outfit from The Empire Strikes Back. “Hi.” He shyly said.

“Hi, Seb! I didn’t know you liked Star Wars? I love it! My brothers don’t so I really have no one to talk to about it, but maybe you and I could—”

“Y/n!” A friend of hers ran up to Sebastian and Y/n. “What are you wearing? We agreed to be cats!” She gestured to the fake drawn on whiskers and cat ear headband. “You look . . ”

“Pretty. She looks pretty.” Sebastian cut in. He really didn’t know where he got the confidence to speak up, but he was glad he did.

“Sure,” her friend rolled her eyes. “I don’t think Jason would like a prude for a girlfriend.”

“Well I’m not here with Jason.” Y/n stated. She then grabbed Sebastian’s hand and pulled him away from her friend. “You can have him!” She and Sebastian ran down the hall to god knows where. Sebastian didn’t really care in the moment. He could believe he was holding hands with her, especially dressed as Han Solo and Princess Leia.

Y/n and Sebastian ended up in the art room where they were laying on the rug staring at the painted ceiling.

“And don’t even get me started on all my ‘friends’! One of them called my dad hot! It was so uncomfortable so I stopped inviting them to my house.” Y/n revealed. She laughed it off knowing she was never going back to her friends.

“Oh god.” Sebastian chuckled. “I didn’t realize you knew my name.” He changed the topic.

“I’ve always known. We’ve been in each other’s classes since grade school!” Y/n pointed out. “You’re a really cool person, Seb, and I really like being with you.”

“You’re the only person who calls me Seb, you know. I like it.”

Y/n giggled. “Did you drink some of the punch?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Amber Marsh spiked the punch.”

So that’s where the confidence came from. Thank you Amber Marsh I guess, thought Sebastian. He couldn’t remember how many times he had gotten punch.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?” The boy and girl continued looking at the painted stars on the ceiling.

“I like you.” He admitted.

“I know.”

That was the closest they got to their Han and Leia moment until a year later when Sebastian finally said ‘I love you’ to Y/n. She replied with the classic ‘I know’ line that made Sebastian’s nerdy teenage heart melt.

TAGLIST

@yannew @annieoncrack @stinkyjax

[petew21-blog]

Just a party, part 3

"Number 14 and 16"

"Guess it's you and me again." Ben took my hand and we went to the room we were assigned"

We left Ezra and Jason back there. Poor Jason, he was really fed up with Ezra. Hope he'll survive the night in that pip squeak body.

We opened the door of the room. I went on the bed. Ben right down next to me

It was awfully quiet. We wanted to have a party, we were overworked, stressed and probably needed a drink to loosen up a bit. We knew immediately that we both felt the same way. And we headed to the bar of the building.

The emplyees were serving us, asking about our needs and desires. Creepy but somehow nice. I bet the studio must have pay a massive ammount to get us to this event. But they all say that this one even is worth working for Hollywood. It fullfills you.

"You know, we didn't have much time to explore our bodies by ourselves before. With the Comic Con and so on, giving out all the autographs. I'm pretty sure that all the fans that will try to sell stuff with 'your' signature are gonna be pretty sad. I tried to perfect your signature Henry, but it still looks like someone else did it."

"Even better then. Those who really appreciate it get to keep it anyway and the ones trying to sell won't be as succesfull'

"Henry? You know I'm now the one wearing SUPERMAN's body? You don't have to act like him all the time."

"I don't honestly. I am just being polite most of the time. A decent human being."

"How about you show me how my BATMAN body looks like? You know what? Let's call each other by the name of our bodies, ok? To make the experience worth it. I wanna know what it feels like to be you"

"Ok then HENRY, now I wanna show you now what it truly feels like to FEEL that SUPERMAN body"

Henry in Ben's body lowered down to give Ben a head. He unzipped his pants and took out the beautiful hard cock he was already familiar with:"I think it looks even better from this angle" And the he took it in his mouth

It might have been the fact that I knew my cock so well. The way it responded to my tongue circling around the top, sucking his balls made me sure I was making Ben feel good. But I can't let him cum yet.

Suddenly my phone rang. I just looked up at him. He only winked at me and picked up.

"Hey, this is... HENRY Cavill. Sure, I got time. New TV series? The Witcher? I am not sure about that"

I looked at him aggresively. Playing Witcher is my dream, he can't deny them.

"Jeez. Ok, I really want it. When do we start? Ok, thanks. No, I can't talk that long, there is something I need to take care of. Bye."

My blow job was coming to an end. Then I stopped. Can't let him finish that easily.

"Please, go on!"

"Can't do that HENRY! You got an ass to breed. And I wanna have fun too"

I took his hand and dragged him to the entrance hall.

"The room is too far, let's go to one of the closests, I wanna fuck you there."

We took the first door on the right. Passionately making out on the way. Ben pushed me against one of the lockers. Wait, that wasn't a closet. We must have entered the lockers of the employees. We kept on going.

Suddenly we noticed voices from a room around the corner. We stopped and I showed Ben a finger on my lips to shush him. We went closer to get to hear them

"All right. As I have said before, we are now on the full capacity of our guests. They are very busy right now. Each and every one of you has an envelope with a name of the actor or other famous person they get to swap with today. For those of you who haven't read it, the reason of the swap is the Writers and actors strike. You will get a brand new life of a popular person, their money in exchange for absolute loyalty and diacretion about the swap. I am deeply sorry to everyone who wanted to go back to their bodies sometimes in the future, but we have to get rid of them. The actors in your bodies can't let anyone know about this. Is anyone against this?" nobody responded which led us to believe that they agreed"

"Ok. We now have 48 minutes until the door of the rooms get locked completely, sealing our guests inside making it easier for us. We will be going over some details with each and everyone of you. Starting with Miguel who will be receiving Henry Cavil's body..."

I looked in shock at Ben in my body. He was also horrified about what we just heard.

"We have to warn everyone!" Ben said to me

Suddenly a manly voice above us said very calmly:"Haha. But we won't let you, gentlemen" the man above us was Chris Hemsworth, holding a taser. Something was telling me, that Chris wasn't the one controlling his body anymore, or the one of his friends who swapped with him

To be continued...

Story request from inbox by Anonymous: That Hugh and Ryan story was Great! Maybe you can do a swap involving Ben Affleck and Henry Cavill?

And also continuation for part 2.

Inbox request: Your stories are soo good, love the Chris E. and RDJ swap. Maybe a second part involving some actors from dc, like Ezra Miller and Jason Momoa swapping to try new roles & running into Henry Cavill and Ben Affleck in the rooms?

Part 2:

Part 4:

[pparacxosm]

stream of green

(stanfordera!tashi duncan x fem!nursingstudent!reader; tw injury; me taking my headcanon and furtive desire to be an english major and making it everyone’s problem; tw art donaldson typical guard dog behaviour; tw iced matcha dependency; anyway you get it; some of you have seen this before; everything is about wanting to kiss tashi duncan, except for wanting to kiss tashi duncan, which is about war and peace by leo tolstoy)

Tashi's Literature course is doing Tolstoy.

In the book, Natasha frolics in fields in a dandelion dress. She sings on her balcony at Otradnoe.

Natasha simply sits in an opera box, and she inspires white hot desire like dribbling crimson from a fresh wound. Raw and unequivocal.

Everyone could hate her. Hate this beautiful thing wrapped up in silk in lace and purity; Natasha has all the opportunity in the world. And there is something to ruining a beautiful thing.

Smouldering rose petals. Butchered sonatas.

Destroy it so nobody can enjoy it.

But they can't. They can't, right?

Because Natasha's vivacity persists like a man parched and desertborne. And Natasha's tremendous joy exists independent of any external condition. And Natasha is a courageous young woman who is willing to pay the price for giving her heart. And it pays off. Her kindness and tenacity and charm and dreams of flying to the moon will pay off. It all pays off. It has to.

And—okay—Tashi hasn't finished the book. She's bad at finishing books. Always has this lingering sense of dread that something's bound to give. So she'd like to think that Natasha's passion will pay off, in the end.

But her knee gives in the second set.

With a visceral pop that makes her gaze fizzle like static TV.

The poky infirmary is tucked away in a hushed, tepid corner of the school. Tashi stares at the smudged carcass of a smacked bug, a fingersized smear against a gleaming white brick on the wall across from where she sits and rots. She thinks of things once living and now dead, and her eyes, pinkrimmed and tender, begin to water again.

Art hangs his head beside her, wincing when she whimpers as her leg twitches. Tashi is glad to know that he feels so bad over what's happened.

Natasha is beautiful, young, ripe for the taking. She's engaged, sure, but not taken yet. Anatole doesn't let Natasha's commitment to Andrei get in the way of his wanting. Art chases Patrick off like a stray hopefully pawing at the door. Tashi is glad for that, too, as much as she can be. She gets the sense she won't be too glad at anything for a long while.

Your sneakers squeal against the linoleum floors as you walk in, clipboard held comically close to your face. You've only just gotten new glasses frames, but they pinch your nose bridge like a bitch, and you keep taking them off and forgetting where you've set them down.

“Okay...” you trail off, lowering the page, having gleaned fuck all from Nurse Roche's already hieroglyphic handwriting. “Uh, who's the patient here?”

One of them strikes you as more of a Natasha Zola Duncan (Deacon? You squint at Nurse Roche's scrawls. No, Duncan, definitely Duncan) than the other, but you're taught not to make assumptions, in your field.

Tashi is halfprone on the bed, stiff as sediment. Her knee is cloistered in thick layers of bandages, propped up upon a folded towel. Her face is pale with shock and steelsolid.

She parts her dry lips, a quiet ferocity in her tearweary gaze, but what comes out is a thin whistle.

“Maybe the one whose leg is wrapped up in enough gauze to clothe an inuit village.”

It's pretty stark imagery. It's sort of funny, but you think better than to laugh. She sounds harsh. She sounds rattled.

You have this sudden flash—a fragment of a memory of a large, sprawling poster on the cafeteria wall, the aptly emboldened text of DUNCANATOR!!! printed beneath a picture of a girl, clear and hot as freshblown glass, crowing like a gladiator with a racket in her hand.

You can't be certain it's even her. You're not good with faces, nor have you ever cared about tennis.

This girl, pensive and seething and lachrymose, her blonde acolyte seemingly too scared to dote on her properly, even as he clings to their proximity, bears little resemblance to the indomitable Duncanator who is said to glissade across campus with all the grace of Misty Copeland and the colonydecimating rage of Joan of Arc.

You only smile.

“Exactly. So why the friend?” you say as kindly as possible, gesturing vaguely toward him with your pen.

There's a pretty strict rule about nonfamilial tagalongs. One too many drunken partygoers convinced they're practically kissing the gates of death, ushered in by two dozen members of what they claim is their inner circle. The room is only so big.

“He's emotional support,” she says firmly.

You raise an eyebrow.

You hate to be anal. But you'd rather be a bit of a bitch to a peer who won't remember you than shoulder another warning from Roche and risk losing this shadowing gig.

“Boyfriends really aren't allowed in here,” you try again.

“What are you going to do, kick her out of the ER?”

It's the boy now. He's glaring at you with all the intensity of a water jet. You glance off to the side, halfawkward, halfjaded. You've seen your share of the white knight playlet.

Tashi pays him little mind. “I want the nurse.”

“Unfortunately, she's quite busy today,” you smile, “So it's me, or another hour wait.”

Her eyes narrow to serrated slits of amber. “Fine.”

You round the bed to stand to the right of her. The boy sits in direct obstruction. You gesture to a seat across the room with your pen.

“Could he sit over there? Might be a bit easier to see your...” you trail off, squinting at the clipboard again, “Right leg.”

She nods at him sharply, and you're a little tickled by his silent obedience, standing from his place at her side and jogging around the bed to sit at her... other side.

“Not quite where I pointed,” you note.

“Can you just order an X-ray or something?” Tashi's voice is frayed at its edges and clinging to its hardness. She feels like crying again, like letting loose those tears stuck at the corners of her eyes. But she doesn't. If she started now, she'd never finish. “I'm in pain and I have work to do.”

“Sounds important,” you say, reaching for the little first aid box latched to the wall beside her and unsheathing a disinfectant wipe.

She scans your profile, and you cannot tell if she wants you to notice her scrutiny. “Because it is.”

She doesn't seem to believe herself.

“If I had talent, I don't think l'd bother with coursework,” you muse aloud.

She seems, at once, pleased and disgusted by this sentiment.

“Well, people need skills beyond just hitting a ball with a racket.”

Beside her, the boy shifts at this choice of words. He runs a pale, feverish hand over and through his wheat field hair. He blows a thick and heavy breath out of lips bitten raw.

“Maybe,” you shrug at length, snapping on a pair of gloves. “Now, let's see what we're working with...”

Tashi, with a barely concealed wince, shifts her leg closer toward you, and you sweep gently over her skin with your hands. Her skin is very warm.

“Are you a nurse? Or, like, an intern?” she asks.

You smile, crouching down to be eye level with her knee. “Neither. Student.”

“So you're aspiring,” her boy supplies uselessly. You can't be sure if he's inquiring or stating. You hum an acknowledgment in any case, shrugging. To aspire seems such a daunting word.

Tashi levels you with a look laden with... something.

Then she hisses in pain when your thumb prods a little too hard through the bandaging.

“That's the most painful area,” you say, and it's more of a statement than a question.

“Obviously!” she groans, and the boy beside her fixes you with a territorial glower.

You think to try telling him to kick rocks again, but you only sigh, pursing your lips to the side pensively.

“On a scale from one to ten, ten being the worst, how bad is the pain?” You're still holding her leg, but you're no longer pressing.

“One hundred,” she replies.

“Is she always like this?” you smile, and cast her golden consort a wry glance.

He seems to have some choice words for you.

“Art, go,” she says.

Was it something I said? you want to say. But he's gone—hesitant, but dutiful nonetheless—before you can land. Probably for the best. Tough crowd, the two make.

“Just get me a brace and call it a day, please,” she huffs.

“I don't have that kind of authority,” you muse, which isn't totally true, but you need to follow the checklist of wound assessment protocol before you make any sort of call. Even though she will probably be needing a brace. “Can I ask you to rotate your leg for me, like this?”

She watches you straighten, and gather a bit of the fabric of your skirt, drawing the hem upwards and twisting your leg in demonstration. She shakes her head promptly and firmly.

“We need to be able to determine what we think is wrong, to specify what the techs are X-raying. If you could move your leg, l'll have a better idea,” you say, cringing sympathetically. And you mean it, the sympathy, but she's sort of not buying it.

“It's going to hurt. I don't want to do it,” she says.

“Are you crying because the pain is that severe?” you frown. “Or do you just want me to feel bad for you and stop asking to move your leg?”

“I'm not crying,” she grunts, wiping the tears on her cheeks. They quickly replace themselves. Like this perennial stream. Like she has just emerged from water, over and over.

“Right...” You give her a look. “So that's, what, spontaneous moisture on your face?”

You write something on the clipboard, and she makes an obvious effort to see what it is.

“You shouldn't be a nurse. You're too annoying.”

You don't know, yet, if you're gonna let that hurt your feelings.

She hadn't meant it meanly, just honestly. She could be nice—she is nice—but you're, decidedly, not making her bad day much better.

You smile, sort of laughing. “Move your leg. Please? I can give you something if it's that serious, the pain you're in.”

“Of course the pain is serious! Why the hell else do people come here?” she snaps. She's snapping now. Gnashing teeth like a cornered dog. But, really, you think she reminds you more of a wounded bird.

Tashi feels something queasy in her stomach, the prelude to dryheaving. She feels a new set of tears well in her eyes. She feels betrayed by her body. And that stings. Of all the things that have happened to her, of all the bruises, scrapes, of all the disappointments, that probably stings the most.

“You'd be surprised,” you smile. “Let me go find a real nurse.”

Natashas are meant to repent. Or, at the very least, suffer a tragic, agonising loss of self. The world is their oyster, but they can never see any of it through. All they can do is accept their miserable lot in life. It's pure prose.

“Alright, here we are,” you walk back in with a backpack on your shoulder. You should be knocking off in a few minutes time.

You're holding a little paper cup with two pills inside.

“What is it?” Tashi holds it under her nose.

“They're pills, they don't smell,” you say. “And they're an extra strength ibuprofen. Might make you a bit woozy.”

“Sounds like a real trip,” she mutters. She swallows the pills on their own, and takes a courtesy sip of the water you offer after.

“Roche is gonna come soon to undress and clean your knee,” you say, slumping your bag on the edge of her bed, careful not to disturb her throbbing leg. “So I'm gonna try and move it now. Can you bear it?”

“Have I not been bearing it?” Her teeth are gritted like padlocked prison bars.

In the dim room, one small window casts a narrow shaft of light across her face. The whirring AC renders every breath of air glaciercool and clinical. But Tashi's skin seems clammy with fever, her face beaded like a tapestry with the sickly sweat of pain and shock. You don't quite like the look of her. Especially as your fingers ghost her wound.

“You take ELIT?” she asks, her voice thick with saliva and strained like tensed elastic. You think she's hoping to distract you as your fingers approach the painful spot again. You hope she's distracting herself, even if it's inadvertent and spiteful. “1048?”

“Uh,” you pause, holding her leg. You're a bit unnerved at the pointedness there. You can count on your two hands how many times you've attended your English Literature lectures this semester. “Yeah.”

You clear your throat.

“You're flunking,” she grits, eyes closed, and she's not really asking. You don't totally appreciate her tone, but you don't suppose you can hold it against her in her state.

“Uhm... no, actually,” you say.

“You're just, like, antisocial?” And that does sound like a question, at least. Or maybe an assessment.

“Maybe,” you say, at length. Then, “Yeah.”

She clicks her teeth. “Gotta come to the lectures,” she says, and you don't make the face you want to make out loud. “You don't get a pity degree for being antisocial.”

“I'll keep that in mind.”

“You read the book?”

She doesn't say it in any sort of way, and you try not to take it in any sort of way, but you are stricken with the sudden biting suspicion of her opinion on you. Does she think you aloof, or uncaring? Maybe you're a little uncommitted. You're no star athlete, that's for sure. Tashi's knee throbs like a beating heart in your hands.

“Um. I mean, I read it in high school,” you say. You cough.

Her eyes shoot open, but they are narrowed and pained and maybe growing fatigued.

“Did you just cough on me?” Tashi pulls back. “You're a nurse, you should know better.”

“Sorry, sorry,” you mutter, “Aspiring.”

“Oh, sure.”

A pause.

“You should read the book,” she says.

“Yeah,” you nod, reaching for your bag and slinging it back over your arm. You know better than not to wear it on both shoulders. Your first year portfolio for your Health Systems Sciences course was on scoliosis awareness. But still.

She is either subsumed by a sudden ache, or she is displeased with your dismissal of her advice, because she sort of grimaces. And are you being dismissive? Maybe. But she's talented and beautiful and probably clever. And you're not a nurse yet. So you think you get to be a bit shitty.

“I have to leave you,” you say. “Think of me while you get better.”

Tashi's eyes linger bitterly on you, like she's trying to calculate whether she'd feel better if you dropped dead before you made it out the door.

She settles that, in fact, she would not.

When her shoe's sole gave way like it was on ice, Tashi had been struck. Not by the pain—there hadn't been pain right away, though; in that moment, that wretched, fleeting moment, she had felt a strange sensation of nothing at all—but by the noise. A horrifying crack like a wet towel smacking a wall in a fetid locker room. Echoed and nauseating.

And she thought, in that moment, she heard Patrick's voice in her ear, whispering sort of feverishly, okay, I'm sorry, you psycho!

It had sounded like something worth clinging to.

But what she hears now doesn't sound like Patrick at all.

“Just breathe, young lady.”

She wishes you'd have told her, before you left, how Nurse Roche is a heavyhanded, unsympathetic, cigarettestenched shrew.

Tashi thinks she's fighting off the medicine. She can almost imagine her fists swinging wildly, even has they lay stiff beside her, gripping the sides of the bed with the absent ferocity of a corpse.

It's almost like she wants to punish herself. Scratch that, of course she wants to punish herself. She's a Natasha, after all.

Nurse Roche unwinds the wrappings around her knee.

They cling to her stubbornly with a putrid crust of brownred. She's been bleeding, and the thought makes her a little uneasy. Nurse Roche has to tear the cotton from her skin.

A fresh trail of tears cut a swath through Tashi's face.

She cries like a waterfall.

Nurse Roche is binning the gauze when Tashi sees it.

The swelling, a violent red and angry purple like spilt wine. The bruising, a deep blue and the blackest black. The joint itself, deformed and swollen. Swollen as it is, a few parts of the structure of her knee are still visible. Should she take a closer look, she wonders, through the miserable morass of her drugaddled brain.

Nurse Roche says she's seen a few swollen knees in her time. But nothing quite this bad.

Even in her suffering, Tashi Duncan is remarkable. She'd laugh if she had the strength.

“Fuck...” is all she manages, before her head falls back on the pillow and she closes her eyes.

When she opens them again, it's late afternoon and the room is empty. Vivid orange light pours in through the window and washes the walls in panels of warmth and sunheat. Tashi can hear birdsong. She thought she'd be happy to see the sun kissing the tops of the university buildings through yellowgreen leaves, but she's just okay about it. Coming back from what she was sure, for a moment, was the brink of death hasn't changed her outlook that much, it seems.

Tashi lifts a heavy hand to her bruised knee. They've rewrapped it now, tight and neat. Still, the bruises pulse angrily, making themselves known to her. She scratches a little under the top seam of the gauze, even though she knows she shouldn't.

“You shouldn't do that.”

Someone is standing in the doorway. Coming in, to be precise, and holding a cup of iced coffee? No, matcha. Tashi feels her dry mouth go slightly damp. It's you. You, with your backpack on both shoulders now. A sweater you weren't wearing before. You're smiling. Tashi feels so relieved she nearly falls back asleep.

“Hey, sleeping beauty. Your parents are here. They're gonna take you to the hospital to get your X-ray,” you inform her, coming close to the bed.

You rest your fingertips on her forehead briefly. Tashi turns her head to avoid your touch, but not in any earnest way, and your fingers move to her jaw, then under her jaw. It’s almost clinical, but, if it were, you’d be using the backs of your knuckles. This feels sort of tender, Tashi thinks.

“Your fever's down, at least,” you say, sitting down in the vacant chair beside her. “Roche's glad you got some sleep. She said you were basically speaking in tongues while she redressed you.”

Tashi wets her lips. She feels feverish anyway. She tries to speak. “Where'd you go?”

“Good question,” you reply, and she's sure you're being friendly, but she still bristles a bit in her fogginess.

She's so muzzy and paranoid, when you reach into your bag, she thinks she wouldn't even mind if you unsheathed a pistol and put her out of her misery. But you don't. You take out a dense paperback novel that has seen better days. You hold it in her field of vision like that's supposed to mean anything to her.

“Bought it just now, at the secondhand library,” you say. And then, feigning longsuffering, planting your elbow on the hard, thin mattress, just beside her head and resting your cheek in your palm, looming over her, “I thought you'd be pleased.”

Her eyes flutter closed, but she turns her face toward you, a sheet of copper sunlight catching her eyelash and gilding it. She is, actually, so beautiful. You were able to give her poster a proper look today, when you left, and you think it doesn't even do her justice. Even as she lays here, lifeless and forlorn. Her skin is absolutely smooth. Like tepid, gleaming, milky tea. Her lips look like fruit flesh in early summer. When she notices you admiring her, she makes this pout, like a reproachful duck.

Her eyes, three-quarters-lidded, are watching you, through her lashes, with the intensity of a wildcat. She is not in the mood to be admired, they say. But they're pretty all the same.

“And I ran into your boyfriend,” you smile, your finger idly tracing the clothed bend of her knee.

Tashi looks like she wants to kick your head off. But she remains as still as midnight in a prairie, a light clench of her jaw the only indication that she's heard you at all.

“Patrick?” she whispers after some time.

You make a face. “No,” you say, dragging out the syllable. You don't know what you're supposed to do about that. Well, you guess you don't need to do anything. It's not like you're her boyfriend. Instead, patting her knee and eliciting a tiny, shuddering whimper, you say, “He told me you don't drink coffee, only matcha. He asked if he can come see you.”

Tashi resents being asked after by fucking Art, of all people. But her curiosity takes precedence. “What did you tell him?”

You look down, embarrassed. “I said he can't come see you...”

“You...” she starts, but cannot repeat the whole sentence, as if the words are part of a madeup language.

“You didn't seem any more or less emotionally supported when he fucked off, is the thing. And Roche says it was like an exorcism, getting this stuff on you.” Your fingernail scratches almost imperceptibly over the coarse beige surface of the crepe bandage. “Said you were sweating and spitting and cussing her out like a flank eruption.”

Tashi's body twitches. Once. Twice. And it is with a guttural moan that she heaves her body, seeming at once leaden and weightless, to face you, curling in on herself with what strength and dexterity she is able, like a stilltailed foetus. Shuddery and nascent.

“I wouldn't want my boyfriend to see me like that,” you say.

Tashi feels something like nausea, even as her belly whines with hunger.

She reaches an aimless hand up, and it flails in feeble slowness until it lands on your shoulder.

Her face must show that she is absolutely pleased, because you laugh. And the motion of it makes her hand drop with a lifeless thunk against the mattress.

“Don't worry,” you say, turning to grab her matcha, and the rattle of the ice against the plastic cup makes her eyes, mucus laden, flutter fully open like an activated sleeper agent. “I don't expect a thank you,” you say, “If it makes you feel better, I didn't go to that much effort. He seemed a bit spooked about the whole thing anyway.”

It doesn't make her feel better. You stab the straw into the lid of the matcha. You carefully lower the mouth of it between her teeth. She sips in earnest, and a stream of green dribbles down the side of her face.

“Patrick?” she asks again wearily. You tug the hem of your sleeve over your hand and use your clothed knuckle to swipe at her cheek. She is so pallid that her skin blooms with a faint streak of red where you'd wiped. But it's hard to see. The room is getting dimmer.

“Patrick...” you repeat in thought.

You have a bit of a guess. There was a tall, dishevelled, dark haired guy, skulking out the room all shellshocked and marooned shortly after what sounded like a bit of commotion in here. You think you'd heard a yell, something that sounded like ‘Patrick’, but you can't be sure. Still,

“I wouldn't leave the light on for Patrick,” you say, bringing the straw to her parted lips again.

She suckles with the breathy listlessness of a newborn. She doesn't appreciate the commentary on her love life, but she knows she asked.

“Why are you here?” she says, teeth green and voice, despite the lingering slur, as fullbodied as it's sounded in a while.

You glower down at her in wry disapproval, using your damp sleeve to swipe her lips again. Little flecks of skin come off, clinging to the fabric of your jumper.

Tashi regards you. “You said you didn't expect a thank you,” she reminds you.

You two stare at each other in silence for a few uncomfortable moments.

At length, you speak. “I couldn't not come back. I felt bad. I feel guilty. I don't know.”

You have no reason to feel guilty, but Tashi nods as though you do, anyway.

“Oh, poor you,” she says.

You smile.

“How's the pain now?” you ask, “On a scale of one to ten?”

Her leg twitches again. Like a bug smeared against a wall. Halfway alive. You glance at the amorphous slope of it beneath the bandaging.

“Twelve. It's at twelve,” she hisses.

You look up at her face, a little taken aback.

“That's a lot better than a hundred,” you say encouragingly.

“Fuck you,” she returns.

“I'm sorry for hurting you,” you sigh.

“I'm sure you had a very hard time.”

You bring a palm, cool and wet with the condensation from the cup, and splay it upon her forehead. You drag it up, upwards, slicking her tousled hairline. On the poster, she has a slicked back ponytail, a thick, dark braid cascading down her back like a foetal tail.

“Duncanatorrrrr,” you whisper in a low growl, the corners of your lips twitching.

Tashi scowls. Her eyes trace your form as you stand, taking the book—War and Peace, she is now sound enough to discern—and stuffing it into your bag.

She nods, a curt, jerky, miserable motion. She can hear her parents' warbled voices from beyond the door. Her red eyes scream with the sting of going damp again.

“You have a boyfriend?” she asks.

You sling your bag over one shoulder. You're about to thread your other arm through, but you pause at that, humming in question.

“You said...” she trails off, blinking blearily.

“Oh!” you say.

You smile, shaking your head.

It takes the strength of a battalion, but she hoists her head just barely, and swivels her neck to trace your receding form. When you reach the door, you wave goodbye, your shadow turning bright and disappearing in the sunlight.

Natashas everywhere must suffer.

Tashi drops her head heavily back onto the bed as it if were the chopping block. She eyes the iced matcha, condensation creating a wet ring on the sidetable, the bitten straw. She lets herself feel the torment. It's survivable, as tortures go.

Clung to the side of the cup, gathering water, is a little sticky note. Tashi makes out the first few digits of a phone number. She closes her eyes and hears her parents bustle in. They sound relieved, and concerned.

“Oh, Natasha!” wails her mom.

[xo-cod]

aww your bodyguard!simon au reminds me of enemies to lovers its so cute!! 🥺

aww baby, it definitely would be! 😙 he would hate to be around all the popstar things you do, he doesn't understand it and he doesn't care for it.

continued from here

"so fuckin' stupid" he muttered, practically glaring under his balaclava at everyone around him. but especially at you. it's almost comical. ghost was a behemoth of a man, standing tall and proud at 6'4 and weighing at around 250 lbs. but one look from you and he could feel himself shatter beneath your gaze. your eyes on him making him feel exposed, vulnerable almost.

god, he hated you. your terrible attitude, horrible humour, the little miss know it all, the popstar princess bullshit. he hated you with every fibre of his body

you hated him, his arrogant cocky personality paired with his sarcasm. his silent and brooding at everything you did, his judging gaze constantly looking at you as if you've committed the biggest crime. you hated him with every fibre of your body.

and yet ghost learnt, the line between hate and love was a very thin line indeed.

despite how much he denies over and over, there's a tenderness when he looks at you. even with his frown, even with his harsh words, there's a flicker of emotion that runs through his brown eyes. it's only for a second but even for him, that's a second too long.

late at night when he's alone and relieved of his bodyguard duties, when the buzz of the songs and the chatter of the fans come to a silence, he dares himself to allow to dream. he hates how most of them revolve around you now. his breath shutters when they take a turn, his hand snaking down his abdomen and to his weeping cock for attention. he doesn't usually let himself have this pleasure but god, he can't help himself with you.

dreaming especially of the pretty sounds you would make when he pushes his aching cock between your slick folds, how beautiful you'd look splayed out across the bed as he took his sweet time learning every single thing about your body. what made you whine and arch, what made you whimper and moan. how you'd react with every sloppy thrust, how you'd clench around him with every movement of his hips

and it only served to infuriate him further when he knows he could never have you that way

•••

he's so emotionally constipated and he wonders why everyone is scared of him :")

[animentality]

special announcement time

alright everyone.

at long last, i have finished polishing my latest writing project, a horror romcom fantasy novel (94k words), and am looking for beta readers to tell me what they think of it.

but not only that...

i am also interested in beta swapping.

sooooooooo.

if you got an ongoing fanfic, if you've got a novel of your own...or any other kind of big writing project, or web comic even, that you want eyes on...dm me or send me an ask (or reply to this post, I'll reach out).

i have turned on dms and replies for this purpose.

it can be pretty much any length and any genre, about anything. i don't mind any experience level either, whether you've never written anything at all, or have been doing it for years. i can help aspiring authors (trad or indie), fanfic authors who want to participate in fan events/post to AO3, people who don't want to share their work with the public...

i'll read sci fi, fantasy, horror, historical, contemporary, romance. porn. any genre, with any audience (YA, MG, adult, whatever).

but also, you know. we don't have to swap. if you just wanna read it, that's perfectly alright too. summary here, so you can see if you'd be interested.

Warnings: Graphic violence, child death (death of an infant), self-harm (because their powers are blood-based, and they need to self harm in order to use them), implied sexual assault/incest (not graphic), animal death (a lot of it), and oh yeah, sex scenes. this is an adult romantasy. adult.

anyway.

here:

In a world ravaged by war between the old gods and the new, demigods sow chaos and discord wherever they go, destined to be either legendary heroes or fearsome villains. But Marrow is not like other demigods. They are the child of the god of blood and slaughter, born with only one purpose: to kill in their savage father’s name, and bleed the entire world dry. The one problem? 

The only living creature they want to kill is their father.

But Marrow has been imprisoned within their temple for their entire life, unable to realize that dream…until now. A deal with a devil allows them to escape, making their way into a hostile world they know little about- and matters are not helped by the fact that their father can use their eyes to see what they're seeing at any time. To keep him from seeing their location, Marrow must remained blindfolded. But Marrow, an eternal optimist, won’t let their lack of vision stop them from fulfilling their lifelong dream. 

The demigod hunter might, however. Arlo Ren is a member of the Razor Watch, a religious order dedicated to the goddess of the hunt. He is clever, but impulsive, eager to prove himself to his goddess by capturing powerful prey. Soon after meeting Marrow by chance, and discovering what they are, he sees his opportunity and refuses to let it go. Literally. The demigod hunter handcuffs the demigod to his side, and swears to sacrifice them in his god’s name. Luckily for him, Marrow is an inexperienced, blind pacifist, who needs him to guide them through a dangerous, unknown world. They fully intend to escape him eventually. But perhaps a demigod and a demigod hunter have more in common than they might think. Perhaps they might even need each other...but they will, at the very least, need to learn how to live, work, and fight together as they are relentlessly chased by Marrow’s powerful demigod siblings, all hoping to kill their youngest sibling and please the god they abandoned. 

So yeaaaah. DM or replied or whatever if interested. We can chat some more in discord or on Tumblr (but I'm faster on discord).

[beatcroc]

a year!!! as of today i have now been drawing these funny little pizza freaks, to the exclusion of almost everything else, for!!! an entire year!!! i wanted to do a nice group shot/lineup of everybody to compare to when i first started trying to draw them because oh boy were they bad. i never even posted most of them anywhere because they were so bad. but im posting them here, now, to see how everything's changed/evolved.

this is probably the hardest time i've ever had trying to figure out how to work with a style, but we got there eventually; i'm pretty happy with the handle i've got on everybody now...dont let ur memes be dreams. lots of unimportant journaling and idle thoughts abt it below.

older pics

the first one is the VERY first time i drew them, before i thought i was going to actually have any interest in drawing them [lmao]; it was just the one isolated image, for my friendserver, to illustrate the funney message, so there was no attempt to make it Good or actually understand anything going on w/ the designs or style.

second is the original run of practices sketches to start trying to figure them out for real; done after i started having ideas for the comics and such and realized oh god maybe i am actually gonna draw fanart for this. [again, lol, and lmao.]

third one is the first pt art thing i posted on here. there were a couple weeks of sprite studies between this one and the previous image. the one on the top right wasn't part of that post i just threw it on as space filler; i'd intended to shift to doing Sprite Redraws But Stylized to explore tings more, but that was the only one i did. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

individual characters

peppino: by far the hardest dear god. bro what ARE your shapes how DOES your face work. jesus christ. everything i have trouble with this style for, peppino has it in excess. i draw in polygons! i need consistency! and that is the last thing this kind of style is concerned with. they are made of squarshy clay and i do not understand how to mold them. i was really hoping trying to learn this game's style would GIVE me that kind of flexibility for fun exaggerated facial expression but i don't think much came of it in the end 😔. anyway on the bright side all this means once i got peppino figured out a little bit everybody else clicked way easier.

fake peppino: honestly i never did anything with him on purpose except for how his eyes work + the perma-smile thing. i figured ok hes supposed to look weird and off model so whatever happens with him happens. and it did. and it kept happening. it is still, in fact, happening.

noise/ette: somehow, for every bit that peppino was the least natural thing i've ever tried, these two worked pretty much right off the bat. i still don't understand it, seeing as pretty much all the things at play for peppino are also at work for them. i think the new sketches are actually a little worse than older ones but not enough that i care.

gustavo: really funny bc i drew him on model twice and just went 'okay, cool nice, easy, um. he doesn't have any fucking legs?' fortunately he was the only one i had a strong idea for how to stylize him [square] and it worked exactly as i was hoping so wahoo.

brick: is an animal and therefore 5000x easier and more natural for me to draw/stylize than anything else in the cast. that is Just a rat bro. i can draw a rat.

gerome: i think the funniest one here. the most drastic and least necessary change imo. i was gonna have him be really small at first, like smaller than the noises, but then i just... didn't. he's just peppino-sized now. also i gave him like. actual human facial structure, which is funny bc in most cases i'd do anything to avoid, but it works well for his being A Rock to give him some angles and definition like that+ to differentiate his vibe from the rest of the cast who are all very squishy. also since he is essentially Just A Head it's good to emphasize that too ig.

john: i only drew john a couple times but he gets to be here because i like him. and because most of the stuff i applied to gerome was readily applicable to john, though i did try to keep him a little more uncanny because he is a Huge And Lanky Freak. i hate that he is barefoot btw but idk how to make his color balance look right with shoes.

pizzahead: i did not want to put him on here honestly but i Have drawn him a handful of times and more importantly i didn't know what i was gonna do with john's pose if i didn't have him there to be glared at. the only thing that's different with him is giving him wider-bottomed pants, which i got from when i tried to draw these guys in clone high style [i never posted that one either][i will eventually]

snick: he gets to be here because 1. he's like 6 lines 2. i like him and 3. ive scribbled him a few times offhand and it went pretty well

misc

there are some guys missing because those are guys i didn't draw enough [or at all] to have gotten comfortable with them. sorry

i would have Liked to shade these but for the time being i have accepted that my grasp of light/shadow has decayed to the point im not going to be happy with anything i try there, so For Now i am working on my presentation with flats i guess. gerome has a shadow only because he's shaded like that ingame and looks naked without it

anyway if you are still reading [hi?] i get to shamelessly plug now. i'm over the hill of my pizza run now, and while i still have plenty of things i want to make here, most of the bigger more in-depth ones have passed. pizza tower was the first thing in THREE YEARS to get me out of my oc groove to doing fanart, and once i am done with my ideas here i will be going right back to it. if you like my art or how i write characters/interactions you should check out my oc/webcomic blog @jamverse . i can't promise people who like pizza stuff will be terribly into my designs, but i can guarantee i treat my guys with the exact same sort of tone i handle the pt guys with. and hell, i've mentioned it a few times before, but like 70% of my characterization for fake pep is just copied off one of my characters, so if u are going to miss him... he will still be there in spirit >;p

and if you dont care about any of that and are still reading thank you anyway. actually making these comics + seeing how shockingly well-received they've been has done a lot for my confidence, and for seeing that my kind of stuff IS something people enjoy :')

[mysingularitybts]

Put Your Records On

Pairing: Cat Hybrid!Yoongi x Human! F. Reader (you)

Genre: smut, fluff, strangers 2 lovers, hybrid!au, 18+

Appearances: Bunny!Jungkook, Fox!Jin, Human!Hoseok, Panther! Taehyung, Human! Jimin, Wolf! Namjoon

Word Count: ~30k

Warnings/tags: hybryd au! (there will be mentions of scenting, heats, and that sort of thing) let's start light with cursing, oral (f, m receiving), unprotected sex, creampies, light biting, breeding, fingering, m. masturbation, light voyeurism, oral (m2m), cum play, there's probably some other stuff i missed or simply refuse typing out here lol

a/n: this was supposed to be a small thing and then it evolved into what it is today (half plot half porn). i knew i was obsessed with kitty yoongi i just never realized i was this obsessed. this oneshot made me write things i never thought id write, it pushed me to my limits but I'm pretty proud of it. i hope you guys like it... there is so much smut also grammarly is a pain in my ass

○●○●○●○●○●

Like every morning for the past seven years, Yoongi walks to work with hands in his pockets and earbuds in his ears. The music blasting out of them does nothing to dampen the city noise as the extra pair of ears at the top of his head catches them. One of the downsides of being a hybrid, a cat one, to be precise.

Like every morning, he stops in front of a tall, glass-lined building that glimmers under the rising sun, and as always, he curses it out in his head (or under his breath) for ruining his dream. The same one that began when he first learned the purpose of the building. To become a music producer. He scowls at it for a whole minute before continuing to his destination. A minute a day is all the time he allows himself to rain on his parade.

He proceeds to walk to the small music shop tucked between a coffee shop and a comic book store. He unlocks the door fitfully, having to jiggle the keys expertly. There’s no chance of anyone stealing from the store when he can barely open the door himself. Turning on the stereo with the music of a new upcoming artist, he organizes anything he might’ve left out of place the night before and cleans the counters.

It’s become a routine for Yoongi to wake up, scowl at the glass building, go to work, endure people’s discrimination towards hybrids, close the store, go home, and go to sleep. He’s gotten so used to the repetition that when he has free time on Sundays, he feels at a loss on what to do. He’s tried opening the store those days, but then Lee, the closest thing to a father figure he has, would just get mad at him for not resting.

It’s not unusual for him to get new customers. Still, they are always the same sort of people, music students or hipsters who want to try and be cool with their indie music. Today though, he feels something change when a blue-haired girl walks into the store for the first time. The bell jingles at the top of the door as you walk in, looking around the store before beelining to the aisle labeled ‘vinyl.’ Yoongi follows you with his eyes as his tail swishes behind him in curiosity.

You’d heard of this store from a co-worker and thought it would be the perfect place to find a gift for your brother, who’s recently started a vinyl collection. You rummage through the bins trying to find anything he might like but what you see is barely anything you’ve heard of before.

Yoongi stares at you without approaching you; he usually lets the customer decide if they need help. He’s lost count of how many times people have told him they don’t need the help of a hybrid. But as you move into the third bin of vinyl out of the few dozen in the store, he decides to make a move, or you’ll be here for hours.

“What are you looking for?” he asks straight to the point.

You look up, startled, not having heard him approach you. You can’t help but stare, not because he’s a hybrid but because he must be one of the hottest men you’ve ever seen in your life. Yoongi doesn’t take it that way, as he believes you’re judging him for what he is. Instantly his cat ears pin back, and his eyes narrow.

“Well?” He prompts rudely.

“Sorry, um…Yoongi.” You say, squinting to read his name tag, “I’m looking for a vinyl for my brother as a birthday gift.” You look at him nervously as you feel him judge your entire being, wishing you had worn more makeup today and not stained your sweater during lunch.

“Anything in specific you’re searching for? What is his music taste?” Yoongi asks, bored.

“He likes electro-pop.”

Yoongi nods and directs you further down the aisle, he organized the bins himself, and you were looking in all the wrong places. You should've noticed the signs hanging above the bins designating the music genre.

“You were searching in the jazz area. This is electro-pop,” Yoongi points out.

Blushing at your stupidity, you thank him and continue to search for a good artist your brother will like. Yoongi hums in acknowledgment and makes his way back to the cash register, waiting for you to finish and ringing out other customers.

As you shift through the albums, you look up occasionally to look at the hybrid called Yoongi. He sits on a wooden stool, staring out the window. The sun hits his pale face, making him look ethereal. If she was braver, she’d ask him out, but she knows there’s no way he’d like her back. He certainly didn’t show it when he helped her.

Finally, seeing more artists you recognize, you settle on two vinyls for your gift. You walk around the store seeing as it’s your first time in it, and you stop to look at accessories for production closer to the counter. Your eyes roam the equipment, and your hand urges you to touch it. You hold back because you don’t need anything right now. Wanting and needing are two different things you need to be conscious about.

Carefully placing the vinyls on the counter, you wait for Yoongi to ring the items up. He barely looks at you as he tells you the total. That’s okay, though, as it allows you to stare at him more discreetly; you are in awe of this man with his glossy dark hair and pink pout. How could you have formed a crush on a man who has only spoken five words to you?

Yoongi looks up at the lack of response, only to find you staring at him. He frowns deeply, disturbed by the situation. Her staring differs from the people who point at his ears or make off-hand comments, yet he can’t point out why.

“Hello?” He snaps to call her attention.

“Sorry,” you flinch, a blush covering your cheeks, contrasting the blue in your hair.

“Hope you’re brother likes them,” Yoongi tells her, putting both records in a bag.

“Thanks, me too,” you stutter out with a smile.

You promptly pay and leave the store. Outside you slap yourself on the forehead for being so awkward in the presence of Yoongi. Caught up reprimanding yourself, you fail to notice Yoongi staring at you from the window with a quirk on his lips.

Yoongi thinks you’re a little odd but pays you no mind. He believed you’d be more confident with hair like yours, in reality, you’re a little ditsy. It’s cute. You smelled good, too, not that he meant to smell you, but it’s hard not to with his heightened sense of smell. You smelled like chocolates and something florally yet not overwhelming.

To a hybrid, scents are everything they can tell a lot about a person, although sometimes they can be misled. Their smells can sense a person’s mood and overall persona. A handy thing to have when dealing with people who constantly discriminate against hybrids. Times might have changed, and hybrids might have their freedom now, but it can’t erase years of slavery and mistreatment.

○●○●○●○●○●

You keep returning to the store for the next month just to see Yoongi. You didn't know it back then, but now you know he's the only one that works in the store. At first, you would buy little things to have excuses to go there, then you started to leave empty-handed happy to have seen your 'kitty cat' as you've nicknamed him in your head. At around the third week of returning, he asked for your name. You stuttered it out as his response surprised you.

"That name doesn't suit you," he said, staring at you fixedly, "I'll just call you Blue."

"Very creative, Yoongi," you laugh, rolling your eyes.

And while Yoongi is unemotional, most of the time, you've been learning how to read him. A flick of his cat ears, the swishing of his tail, the way his nose scrunches up unbeknownst to him, or the way his mouth quirks up at the side. It all means different things, and you're starting to catch up, so when he sighs, shaking his head at your words, you know he's amused.

Yoongi has gotten used to seeing you every week. Unlike many of his customers, he'd greet you with a 'good morning' and send you off with a 'careful on the way home.' When you don't come to the store in more than a week, he finds himself worried, and as another week ends with no signs of you, he becomes slightly upset. Maybe he did something to upset you. He wants to know if you are okay or if there is anything wrong, but he comes up empty-handed.

He spends his Sunday sulking in his apartment. When he visits Lee, the old man notices instantly. He is delighted Yoongi is like this over a girl. He's been waiting too long for his boy to open up and get a girlfriend. Yoongi shuts it down almost instantly and clears up that you're only a customer. A friendly customer…

Monday morning bright and early, the bell of the shop jingles, and your scent wafts to Yoongi's nose, who is in the back getting more stock. He leaves the boxes behind as he rushes to the front. "Morning, Yoongi," you greet him with a bright smile.

"You didn't come last week, Blue," Yoongi frowns, his pout very apparent and his ears twitching in annoyance, "I was worried."

"I'm sorry," you quickly apologize," I was out of town."

You hate to admit that you are happy he noticed your absence. Yoongi considers you a friend! Now you have to fulfill the promise you made to yourself. This is the perfect opportunity to ask him out. If he was worried about you, it meant he cared! If only a little.

"How about I make it up to you?" You ask slowly, looking up at him with hope in your eyes. For an extra measure, you use the advice of a friend and put your hair behind your ear to seem cuter.

"And how are you going to do that?" He asks stoically, crossing his arms.

"Let me take you out to this coffee shop on Sunday. They have local artists playing music. And before you say no because of the shop, I know it's your day off," You rush through your words before he rejects the idea.

Yoongi is surprised at your idea of making it up to him, and it shows on his face. He's unsure of what to say but gauging the fact he spent his Sunday worrying over nothing, he accepts. "Alright, you're paying, though."

"Yeah, of course!" You say excitedly, which gets Yoongi smiling.

Despite seeing each other for many weeks, you hadn't had a reason to exchange numbers until now. He writes his phone number on your phone, and you can't resist having his contact as 'Kitty Cat,' not that he notices. If he did, you were sure he would be dramatic about it. Opening the camera app, you tell him to smile, it takes a few tries, but eventually, he settles and shoots the camera a half smile.

Yoongi does the same with you. After writing down your number, he assigns the contact as 'Blue' and snaps a picture of you. Only he didn't ask you to smile; he only called your name and snapped it. You beg him to change it, but he laughs and shoots down the idea. The picture he took got your essence to a tee. While you thought it was atrocious, he thought you looked cute with the wide-eyed stare and everlasting smile on your face. Your messy baby hairs and fluffy sweater only added to your charm.

That Sunday, Yoongi waits for you by the train station. He bites his nails as he waits, a nervous habit he can never get rid of. After accepting going out with you, he began wondering if this was a date. You never specified what it was for you. Yoongi has noticed your stares and how you hang on to every word he says. He also might've heard you speaking about him on the phone outside the store about how cute he was and how he made you giddy.

He's never really been in a relationship, and he's not sure he wants one, either. It's not like he's never been attracted to someone or had his flings, but they've all been with other hybrids, not a full human. He believes he knows you and you have the best intentions, but he's guarded. In the past, he's dealt with humans that are great at first until their true colors show, and they turn into the worst. It's hard getting over his trauma.

With lots of second thoughts, Yoongi is about to bolt from the train station. His fight or flight kicked in over the whole situation. It's one thing to see you around the store, but everything will change once he breaks the barrier and starts seeing you outside of it.

It's too late as you spot him in the train station and wave at him. "Hey, Yoongi!" You chirp, giving him a hug in greeting.

"Are you okay?" You place a hand on his shoulder. You noticed when you were nearing him that he was tense and fidgety. His tail is flat against his body, unlike how it usually swishes around him. Maybe he's not feeling up to the plans for today.

"All good, lead the way!" He responds with a nod and a small smile.

Yoongi is uncomfortable as you walk side by side on the sidewalk. The coffee shop is on the other side of town, in a nicer part of town, to be exact. As a teenager, he never had a great experience in these places where people with money think they can ask for anything with the right amount of money from a poor homeless hybrid. The sad part is sometimes he was so desperate that he agreed to their requests. He's not proud, but he did what he had to survive, and now he's in a better place.

The coffee place barely resembles a coffee place. Inside are tables gathered around a small stage; where the coffee usually sits, there is alcohol instead. When Yoongi points it out, you mention that it's a fully functioning coffee place during the day, and at night it shifts to a speakeasy.

"Where would you like to sit?" You ask Yoongi sweetly, thinking about the speakers that might bother him if you sit too close.

"Over here is okay," Yoongi says, leading you to a table near the back.

You notice the speakers don't point directly at the table. You're proud of yourself for thinking about his heightened sense of hearing. There is silence when you sit at the table. Internally, you're banging your head against the table for not thinking of something to talk about ahead of time. You want to talk to him and get to know him. How do you start, though?

Yoongi, on the other hand, is perfectly happy in the silence. He's never felt the need to make unnecessary conversations. After inspecting the room, he looks at you. You look beautiful today. Your blue hair is nicely curled, with little strands framing your face. You're wearing a fluffy blue sweater that fades into white and pink that begs him to touch it and a black mini skirt. Overall, very cute. He tried to say it while you walked to the coffee shop, but his mouth didn't cooperate, leading him down a different route.

There was a question burning his tongue. A matter of what situation they are in right now. It all started as a way to make it up to him, but he can't help but feel there's more to it. Although he thought of running before, he's concluded that a date would be okay. He's in control of his life now, and if he wants something to stop, he can say it.

"Blue?" He breaks the silence; you had been looking at the stage where the first performer was setting up.

"Yes?" You smile at him gently, waiting for his question. He loved that about you, just how patient and soft you are.

"What is this?" he asks, pointing his finger between the two of you. Upon noticing your confusion, he adds, "Is this a date or just an outing of two friends?"

Your cheeks instantly flare up. Maybe you hadn't made it as obvious as you thought, "I was hoping this would be a date."

Yoongi nods at your words and gives you a small smile, "I was too."

A waiter eventually approaches the table, taking both of your drink orders. A casual conversation then erupts between the two of you. You learn that he's been working at the store for nearly ten years. In exchange, you talk about one of your hobbies, photography.

"I never asked but did your brother like the vinyl?" Yoongi wonders, taking a sip of his whiskey.

"He loved them. Turns out I know his taste pretty well," you giggle, remembering your brother's excitement over the records. He had all but jumped into your arms in a big hug. "He mentioned visiting the store one of these days to get more."

"Does he live around the area?"

"Yes! He's currently in the university nearby," You chirp, mixing your cocktail. Your foundation may hide most of your imperfections, but it can't hide the flush of the alcohol.

"Good for him," Yoongi replies in surprise. That's one expensive and prestigious university. It makes him wonder about your family and what they do; he refrains. That's a subject for another day.

Yoongi had misjudged the coffee shop earlier. He thought the performers would be pretentious people who thought they knew about music. He'd also thought they would all be humans. But as the performers go on, he notices most of them are hybrids, and the people at the tables around them are too. "How did you find this place?"

"One of my friends works here, and the other will perform later."

Jung Hoseok is one of your great friends. You two used to work together until he decided he needed a break from everything some months ago. Next thing you know, he's managing a coffee shop and hosting music shows.

"Actually, I think I see him now," you say, waving your hand delicately toward Hoseok. Yoongi looks in his direction and sees a handsome man with a bright smile. It makes him insecure.

"I'm so glad you're here, sweetheart," Hoseok exclaims, approaching the table and leaning down to hug you, "Who is this?" He asks with a twinkle in his eyes. Hoseok had already heard everything about the cute, brooding hybrid cat.

"This is, Yoongi, my date," you say, "Yoongi, this is Hoseok, the friend I just told you about."

"Nice to meet you." Yoongi shakes the man's hand firmly.

"Don't forget about me," a deep voice says from behind Hoseok.

If Yoongi thought Hoseok was handsome, he is at a loss for words to describe the man or, rather, the hybrid that pops up beside him. The panther hybrid swoops in to hug you, too, whispering in your ear how gorgeous you look. It angers Yoongi that he couldn't say it beforehand because it means he is not the reason for the blooming blush that covered most of your face and neck.

"This is Taehyung," Hoseok introduces the panther hybrid, "Tae, this is her date, Yoongi."

Hoseok and Taehyung try very hard to hide their curiosity and glee. They've wanted to meet Yoongi for weeks, so they were ecstatic when you told them you'd bring him around. They were spying on you from the back, where Taehyung was using his heightened hearing to translate your conversation.

"You're going to perform tonight?" Yoongi asks the panther.

"It's my first time. I'm a little nervous," Taehyung responds, fidgeting with his hands.

"You'll be okay; you've practiced so much," You reassure him, reaching for his hand.

"Thanks, honey," Tae smiles at you.

"We'll leave you two to your date. I gotta go present the next performer," Hoseok says, pulling Tae away from the table, whispering in his ear to tone it down before he scares Yoongi away.

Yoongi finds them both pleasant, even if Taehyung is touchy with you. It's like there was something between the two of you. He doesn't want to jump to conclusions, though, so he ignores it for now.

As another performer finishes, you stand from the table, "I need to speak to Hoseok for a moment. Is that okay?"

"Of course."

His eyes follow you discreetly, watching as you speak to Hoseok. It appears as if the conversation is serious as Hoseok's smile drops. Yoongi focuses as much as he can on listening to the conversation, but it's hard when the new singer on the stage picks up the ante and strums the guitar louder. He can make out your lips as you say 'please,' but Hoseok only shakes his head no and says what Yoongi believes is an apology.

When you return, you smile at him as if nothing has happened. The rest of the show plays out. You pay as promised and head out into the cold night. Yoongi wants to bring up your conversation with Hoseok, but that's not his place. Besides, it seemed like it troubled you, and he didn't want to ruin the night.

"Did you like the show?"

"It was great; truth be told, I wasn't expecting to see as many hybrids," Yoongi confesses, stuffing his hands in his pocket.

"The owner is very pro-hybrid. It's one of the few places around here that are like that. I thought you'd like it, considering you always have the little stand on your counter." You refer to the local artists' tapes he keeps on the checkout counter; every week, he has a new one on display. You're unsure where he finds them, but you appreciate it as it helps you find new artists.

"I did, thank you," Yoongi smiles down at you and notices how you rub your hands together to warm them up. "Are you cold?" He doesn't wait for your answer as he takes your hands in his to warm them.

"How are you so warm?" You giggle.

"It's a hybrid thing," he mutters, a bit embarrassed. He's always been insecure about the things that make him a hybrid.

"I wish I was always that warm. My hands are always cold," you cutely pout.

Feeling brave, Yoongi says, "I can keep them warm."

You nod appreciatively, afraid of your voice betraying you. You walk the rest of the way hand in hand, and when you arrive at your departing point, you kiss his cheek. "For an amazing night."

"Will I see you at the store?" He asks shyly.

"Definitely."

○●○●○●○●○●

Time with Yoongi goes by so quickly. As promised, you return to the store, and Yoongi invites you out on another date in exchange. Your relationship progressed as the leaves began changing color. You didn't visit the store as much anymore as you visited each other's home. You were no longer the cute ditsy customer but the girlfriend.

You're so lucky to have Yoongi; he's much more than the grumpy cat you met. He's funny and extremely affectionate (in private, of course). It took you by surprise the first time he lay in your lap and asked you to touch his ears. You know it's a big no-no to touch a stranger's animal ears, but then again, you were no longer strangers. As you had your internal debate, Yoongi lay there with eyes closed, waiting for you. Silently praying you wouldn't be put off by it, his doubt was put to rest when you began softly stroking his pointy cat ears.

"Finally," he muttered, sinking further into your lap.

"Have you ever heard the saying good things come to those who wait?" You sass at him. Yoongi instantly relaxes, releasing a sigh of pleasure. You're weak for him, though, as your fingers brush through his hair and rub the base of his ears. He doesn't answer your question; instead, he falls asleep on you.

You're not sure if it's a Yoongi or a cat thing, but he loves his naps. Nine times out of ten, whether you're at his apartment or yours, Yoongi will nap for a few minutes, more if you're rubbing his ears. A trait you know comes from his cat side is looking for a spot in the house where the sun hits just right. You first noticed it at the store, and you thought it was because that's where the cash register is. Then you learned he moved the register closer to the big window to sunbathe. In fact, his apartment is set up in a way where his couch is mainly illuminated by the sun.

Something that is definitely a hybrid thing is scenting. You often caught Yoongi touching you or rubbing his head against your neck, a clear sign of scenting. Another way he does it is by giving you his hoodies or t-shirts. He gets all smug whenever you leave his apartment with his clothes, and whenever you return with his hoodies, and his scent is all faded, he switches them out. He wants to make it known to other hybrids that you are his.

For playing the stoic, serious guy, Yoongi loves kisses. Tiny kisses, pecks on the lips, kisses on the cheek, forehead kisses, full-blown makeout sessions, any type of thing involving kisses, he is there. You're favorite thing, though, is making him purr while you kiss.

In the past, you learned that some cat hybrids can purr and others don't, genetic differences between them or whatever. One day you were straddling his lap in a heated makeout session (one he started) and discovered he's one of the ones that purr.

Startled, you pull back with swollen lips, "What was that?"

"Nothing," Yoongi says, trying to pull you back by the back of your neck into another kiss.

"Was that a purr, Yoongi?" You insist with a teasing smile on your lips.

Yoongi, embarrassed, denies it. Furrowing his eyebrows with a pout, he mumbles, "Don't be ridiculous."

You smile at him and kiss him hard, grinding against him, "Do it again."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Yoongi moans, guiding your hips over his lap.

"Do. It. Again," you say in between kisses, "It felt amazing."

"It did?" Yoongi asks with a vulnerable look. He's always been somewhat embarrassed by his cat tendencies because he has had to hide them for many years. In his head, the more human he is, the better. It gives people less ammo when they decide to be rude.

"Mhm," you nod, swiping his lipstick-stained lips with your thumb. "Honestly, it's a turn-on," you whisper in his ear.

"You'll have to figure it out then 'cause I'm not telling you," Yoongi drawls, squeezing your hips.

"Let's get to it, then," You say seductively, kissing him again.

It takes you no more than ten minutes to figure out it's all in the hair. Whenever you pull the hair on the back of his neck, Yoongi purrs like there's no tomorrow. Minutes later, you make another discovery. The purrs are especially good when he's going down on you.

"Fuck, Yoongi," you moan, gripping his hair in your fist. It's a double-edged sword you have; you pull his hair due to the overwhelming pleasure, but it makes him purr even more.

There's no way for you to close your legs as Yoongi is settled right between them. He holds tightly to your thighs with one hand as he flicks your clit with his tongue and works two fingers into you. Neither of you is sure how you got into this position, but there are no complaints.

"I'm not sure if you want me to stop or not," Yoongi teases you with a smirk, leaving kisses over one of your thighs, although his fingers continue their assault. The sound of your wetness, along with your moans, resonates through the room.

"Don't even think about it, kitty cat," you respond, propping up on your elbows. Your head tilts back with a loud moan when Yoongi rubs against that spot.

Yoongi glares at the nickname and bites just where he kissed you. He detests the nickname, so he gets testy whenever you call him that. You whine at the momentary pain, but it turns you on even more.

"Forgot you were a pain slut," Yoongi says with all the intent in the world. He hates being called 'kitty cat,' and you hate the term 'pain slut.' Now you're even.

You glare, pushing him away and shuddering as his fingers leave you empty. Your skirt falls back into place as you sit back on the couch with a pout that's supposed to make you look angry. Yoongi holds back a laugh, knowing you love being dramatic. He moves into a sitting position and grabs your hand, pulling you into his lap, where you can perfectly feel his hard-on over his sweats. His sticky fingers are on your side, playfully squeezing you.

"Don't be so pissy. You know I'm joking," Yoongi chuckles, kissing your shoulder. His hands trail over your body, squeezing your clothed chest before delving between your thighs, but you remain emotionless.

"What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?" Yoongi jokes, kissing the point in your neck that makes you ticklish.

"That's not funny," you scoff, trying to hide the smile dying to come out.

"You're right, it's not," Yoongi agrees, "I'm sorry, Blue." He props his head on your shoulder with a pout, despite your messy blue hair tickling his face.

"I'm sorry too," you say rather unwillingly, turning to him.

"That's my girl," Yoongi smiles, gripping your chin to kiss you.

You squeal when he stands up, taking you to the bedroom to finish what he started.

○●○●○●○●○●

One fall afternoon, you bring Yoongi lunch to the store. He received a big batch of inventory and missed his lunch hour. Your hours at work are flexible, so you stop by one of the restaurants near the store and pick up his favorite.

"Yoongs, I'm here," you call out, not seeing him by the register.

"Back here, Blue!" You only see his hand waving from behind a pile of boxes. You leave the food at the counter and go around the boxes to see him sitting on a small stool organizing the new batch of CDs.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you kiss his cheek. "Come eat before it gets cold."

"One second," he mutters, stacking the CDs in a neat pile before he stands.

"Hi," he smiles at you pecking your waiting lips. You walk back to the front of the store with his hand in yours.

You and Yoongi keep a pleasant conversation going as he eats and checks out customers simultaneously. Some clients come with questions you're more than happy to take care of. All the time you've spent at the store paying off. When he's finished and the store is empty of customers, he pulls you between his legs. Instantly, you know what he wants. It's his favorite thing in the world.

"Don't act so cocky," he murmurs against your lips.

"You're too cute." Your giggle is cut short by a kiss. Yoongi moves his lips expertly against yours, stealing your breath away. His arms keep you close to him, you also feel his tail by your side as if trying to curl around you.

A moan is heard through the empty store when Yoongi nips at your bottom lip. He smiles into the kiss, proud of himself. You're so reactive to his touch. He doesn't have to do much to get you like putty on his hands.

One of his palms sneaks under your shirt, meeting with the band of your bra. Yoongi's thumb brushes over the cup, teasing at how close he is. In turn, you find yourself palming him over his jeans. He's not fully hard, holding back if anyone walks into the store.

"Don't start something you can't finish," Yoongi tells you, kissing up and down your neck.

"We can flip that sign around and go to the back room," you pant as Yoongi leaves open-mouthed kisses against your jaw.

Yoongi is about to agree when the bell at the top of the door jingles obnoxiously. Jumping apart, you keep your distance. It's an older woman who barely spares a glance towards the two of you. She continues on her way, searching for whatever. 

You pout at Yoongi, who only shrugs, pecking your cheek. The woman then appears with an old cassette of an even older artist. Yoongi had those in the back of the store with a few cassette players. He says it's for the old music teachers who reject the artists of this generation. It's a business, and he needs something for everyone.

He rings her out and hands her the paper bag. The old woman looks between the two of you with an indignant look. "Honey, you can do so much better." She says with a frail voice filled with audacity.

Yoongi tenses beside you and is about to say something to the lady when you stop him, "What are you trying to say?" You ask in a daring tone. You need to know if this woman has the guts to voice her thoughts.

"That you can do so much better than a filthy hybrid. They are beneath us, just like any other animal would be. Why don't you find yourself a nice human boy to settle with?" She states as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Yoongi sags at the woman's words. He's fine being humiliated alone but not in front of you. It's just a reality check that your situation is just a thing in passing. You'll never truly like him or see him as your equal.

"First of all, lady, I don't need a man or a hybrid to settle or take care of me. I can do that perfectly fine. Second, this man you want to say is beneath me is the most kindhearted, loving, hard-working man I've ever met. Not to mention he's the hottest too. Now take your old ass cassette and never come back." You don't scream or raise your voice. You talk in a steady dangerous tone, and by the end, you are leaning against the counter, facing the woman. 

She looks at you as if you've cursed her whole family. The moment you finish talking, she almost runs out of the store. Clearly, she hadn't expected that reaction. She probably wanted to rile Yoongi up to try and prove some stupid point she thinks she has about hybrids.

Turning to Yoongi, he's staring at you with a lustful look, "You really think that?"

"I do," you say, giving him the reassurance he desperately needs.

Yoongi steps around you, reaching for the sign on the door and turning it around to 'closed.' He grabs your hand when he returns, pulling you to the backroom. You barely get there when he pushes you against the door, kissing you feverishly. The way you stood up to the woman and defended him got Yoongi fired up.

"I fucking adore you," he gruffs before smashing his lips on yours. 

He kisses you bruisingly hard, pouring all of his feelings into it. You reciprocate his eagerness, folding your arms around his neck. You didn't realize that defending Yoongi almost made him say those three little words. He's conscious it's far too soon for that, and maybe the heat of the moment made him think of them. Still, he needs to get the 'I love you' out of his system somehow, and what better way than fucking you in his back room. 

"All this because I spoke up?" You giggle between kisses though it's interrupted by Yoongi sneaking his tongue into your mouth. 

Yoongi is in a frenzy, squeezing any part of your body he can reach; your thighs, your ass, your arms, your back, your chest. He needs to feel you close, closer than ever before. With each touch, you moan into his mouth. If he didn't love kissing you so much, he'd allow himself to listen to them. 

When you and Yoongi have sex, you always get on your knees first. You enjoy watching him struggle and get all flustered. His fingers knotting in your hair to get what he wants, making him believe he's the one in control. What can you say other than you find pleasure in giving him head? 

It works out because as giving as Yoongi is behind closed doors, he's a selfish lover. He is quick to take what he wants from you; your hands, your breasts, your mouth, your cunt. You get pleasure along the way, he draws orgasm after orgasm from you, but it's all a ruse as he gets the most out of it. Whether it's your taste, your touch, or your mellifluous voice chanting his name. You make him feel victorious. 

Today though, the roles are reversed as Yoongi breaks the kiss and drops to his knees. It's all about you at this moment; you've given him enough pleasure by defending him. You're lost in the moment; you don't question Yoongi's behavior. For you, this was just another horny adventure between the two of you. 

The kneeling cat hybrid bunches the skirt up to your hips and pulls your panties down your legs in one swift movement. His actions are firm yet careful. Decided. He hasn't even touched you, and yet you're breathing heavily. Yoongi leaves wet kisses from your stomach down to your mound. Grabbing your leg, he props it over his shoulder, giving him perfect access to your center. 

It's no secret you are wet. You have been from the moment Yoongi teased you earlier. Your body is somehow always ready for him. It doesn't help that you found everything he does sexy. Your breath hitches when his tongue licks a stripe from your opening to your clit, brushing over it with precise pressure. 

Your fist finds its place in his hair, right between his cat ears. You buck your hips with each lick and suck, Yoongi's name falling from your lips. He only keeps his eyes trained on your flushed face and swollen lips. His grip on your thighs keeps you grounded as they clench each time you close your eyes for too long. Yoongi needs you to see him worshiping you on his knees. 

It's a vicious pattern that Yoongi sticks to. Flicking your clit, fucking you with his tongue, nipping your thighs. It's enough and too much all at once. You'd be on the floor if it wasn't for the wall behind you.  

Yoongi's feline-like eyes indicate he is enjoying this as they reflect his playfulness. Your heel digging into his back and your thighs tightening around him betray you, giving it away that you're close. Not like you were hiding it as curses left your lips. 

Keeping a steady rhythm, he brings you to the edge and over the cliff. A selfless act 'cause if it were up to him, he'd edge you until you were begging and weeping. Your juices drip like a stream, and he acts like a man who spent the last year in the desert. Not a drop goes to waste. 

Only when you lightly nudge him back does Yoongi stand from the floor. His grip on you does not ease as he stabilizes your swaying form. It doesn't take a genius to figure out you're weak in the knees. 

"Fucking delicious," Yoongi purrs as he shares your taste with a kiss. Fear overtakes him at the thought of never savoring you again. There's no one as addicting as you, so sweet and intoxicating. 

You grab onto his shirt, tilting your head to kiss him deeply. It's then that you feel his hard cock pressing against you. Poor kitty is being so good to you. Usually, he would've complained by now.  

Yoongi breathes into your ear as if on cue, "I need you, Blue."  

"You have me, Yoongi," you reassure him, pulling his clothes, desperate to get them off. 

You unbuckle Yoongi's belt and pop the button off his pants, digging your hand underneath to grip his cock. He is warm and heavy on your palm. Yoongi releases a throaty moan as you pump his cock, squeezing him lightly. 

You kiss the column of his throat as he throws his head back in pleasure. Releasing him momentarily, you take off your sweater, making you hot and sweaty. Running out of patience, Yoongi pulls the cups of your bra down. 

He turns you around by grabbing you by the shoulders. You brace your hands against the wall. From behind, Yoongi fondles your breast, pinching your pebbled nipples. He pecks your naked shoulder, biting when he ruts against your ass. 

"I can't hold it anymore," Yoongi groans.

"Fuck me, Yoongi," you whine, arching your back and lifting up your skirt. 

Yoongi spreads one of his hands on your upper back, forcing you to lean forward. With the other, he grabs his member, teasing you with the tip. Your arousal coats him instantly, and with one swift thrust, he forces his cock into you. 

Both of you moan in unison. The pace is slow at first until Yoongi starts thrusting faster and harder. His grip is tight around your waist; you wouldn't be surprised to find marks there later. You remove one of the hands from the wall to find Yoongi's. He holds it against your waist, squeezing it every so often. His groans are like music to your ears. The way his voice gets deeper and raspy, you could cum just by hearing him speak. 

Your walls feel so good around him. You'd tighten around him every so often; it would make him falter. The more you tense around him, the closer he gets. He pulls your back to him, so you're pressed against him. Yoongi buries his head on your neck, breathing in your sweet scent and a hand between your legs. He clumsily rubs your clit, making you climax in no time. It's perfect as the waves of pleasure push him to spill into your warm pussy. 

There's a moment where you both stay in that same position, catching your breath. Yoongi is inside you, his head on your neck, arms wrapped around your stomach. You hold onto him as best as you can with your eyes closed. He's so close to saying, 'I love you,' but fear of rejection stops him. He could live without you knowing but not without you. 

You shudder when he slips out of you. If it were up to him, he'd take you home and do it all over again, but you're expected back at work. Yoongi quickly helps you clean up and find your clothes strewn around the back room. Which is easier said than done. 

"Shit, I have to go," you exclaim after reading a text. 

"What happened?" Yoongi asks, handing you your sweater that had been covering a lamp. 

"I have a meeting in half an hour," you mumble, putting on your sweater. 

You rush out of the music store with a quick look in the mirror and sore legs. Your colleague is waiting for you when you open your office door. When you sit on your chair, you realize something is off. 

You don't have any panties on. Yoongi, that fucking sneaky cat must've kept them. 

    ○●○●○●○●○●

It had been a long week for you, with many deadlines and projects. Yoongi knows how hard you push yourself, so he worries when he calls to see how your day is and doesn't receive the response he usually gets. Something is wrong with you; that's all Yoongi knows. Yoongi changes quickly and gets takeout knowing you probably still need to eat.

He arrives at your apartment in record time, pulling out the key from his pocket to unlock your door. Yoongi has been spending so much time with you, you thought it would be easier if he had a key to your place. A week later, he gave you a key to his place. It was only fair.

He searches the familiar apartment, trying to find you, but you're not there. You're home, though, as your keys hand from the hook and your comforting scent welcomes him. He knocks on your bedroom door, and slowly, he opens the door. You're not on the bed, but that's when he sees the light coming from the bathroom.

"Blue?" He calls out from behind the door.

"I'm here," your quiet voice responds with a sniffle.

He opens the door to find you in the tub, hidden by soap bubbles. Your eyes are red-rimmed and wet. The addition of your red nose confirms you've been crying for a while.

"What's wrong, Blue?" Yoongi tenderly asks, kneeling by the tub to be eye to eye.

"Just had a horrible day at work," you sniff, hiding your face with fading blue hair. It's ironic how it matches your mood. "And my damn hormones are making things worse."

"You want to talk about it?"

You shake your head no as tears fill your eyes again. Work has been stressful this past week, with so many deadlines and little inspiration. The more you work, the less motivation you have. You've only been working at the company for 3 years. How will you manage to do it your whole life?

"Want cuddles?" Yoongi asks, brushing your hair out of your face.

Seeing you shake your head, yes, he undresses and gets into the tub with you. The fact you're on your period does nothing to impede him. It's just blood.

He hugs your shoulders and makes you lean against his chest. The water is hot enough to turn his skin pink and make him sweat, but his goal right now is to comfort you.

Yoongi kisses your head and lays his cheek on the top of your head. Feeling another wave of frustration and pain, tears pour out of your eyes. Knowing what you need, Yoongi gently massages your abdomen to ease the painful cramps. It's meant to be an act of both emotional and physical comfort.

"I'm sorry I'm crying over nothing. It's so stupid." Your hand rises from the water to wipe away your tears, yet it stops midway and falls back into the steaming tub of water. It's pointless; more will retake their place.

"It's not stupid, Blue," he whispers in your ear. "What you're feeling is real; the only way you'll feel better is to let it out." Yoongi is familiar with pain. It's like an old friend, always in the back of his mind.

Yoongi's words cause more tears to fall into the bath water. You're sad and angry, and frustrated at everything except for Yoongi. You're happy he's there with you, the highlight of your day. There's no way you're letting him go from your life. The past boyfriends you've had never treated you the way Yoongi does. They were alright. They just didn't pay attention to details.

With the water turning cold Yoongi gets out to heat up dinner. He sets up the table with a candle in the middle. You're a romantic; it'll cheer you up. You shuffle into the kitchen area with the hoodie he left in the bathroom and sweatpants. Yoongi smiles sweetly at you, motioning you over.

He had placed the plates facing each other, but you take yours and put it beside his, scraping the chair over the floor to sit beside him.

"Thank you." You kiss his cheek and begin to eat.

With him being right-handed and you being left-handed, there is no way he can hold your hand while you eat. Still, you feel his tail brushing against your back, providing that comfort.

○●○●○●○●○●

"There he is! The man of the hour!" A blonde man called Jimin yells, seeing Yoongi walk into his apartment.

"I'm surprised he even remembered how to get here," the fox hybrid Jin adds, uncorking a wine bottle.

Those two men are his best and only friends. Yoongi ignores them both, dropping his backpack on the couch. He first met Jin at the supermarket, where a man was throwing off-hand comments, and the hybrid fox stepped in. He acted as if he had known Yoongi all his life and glared at the man, bearing his teeth. The man left, instantly scared that he might get bitten. Jin laughed in pure glee. His fangs might be sharper than humans, but the rest are the same. He loves scaring humans; they are so stupid.

Different from when you defended him, Yoongi was less enthusiastic with Jin. He got into an argument with Jin about how they would get kicked out, what people might think, and a whole dilemma on hybrids' appearances going downhill because of people like Jin. This was 8 years ago when Yoongi was young and much more insecure than he is now. Jin has been the one to help him ease up and accept himself.

Yoongi's still figuring out how Jimin came to be. He was Jin's coworker; the fox had invited him to hang out with him and Yoongi. The rest is history. He's never left them alone since. It took a long time for Yoongi to warm up to him, though he thinks it was part of Jin's therapy to make him more tolerant of humans. Not all of them are bad people.

"You're being exaggerated," Yoongi gruffs, sitting on the kitchen's bar stool.

"Exaggerated? We haven't seen you in nearly two months," Jin scolds him. His voice is reprimanding, but his body movements are smooth and controlled as he places a wine glass in front of Yoongi.

"What has you so busy, Yoongi?" Jimin curiously asks. He takes a swing of the wine glass, grimacing at the dryness of it. He's always preferred white wine.

"Nothing, I wanted some distance from you two always annoying me," Yoongi jests, ignoring their complaints.

"Or counteroffer he has a girlfriend," Jin then says knowingly, "That usually gets people busy." Yoongi's silence confirms his suspicions. Jin's tail puffs up in victory.

"Pay up, Jiminie!"

"Fuck," Jimin whines, patting his pockets and pretending to look for his wallet, "I left my wallet in the car."

Jin rolls his eyes at the lies. It's okay because he knew Yoongi had a girlfriend before they made a bet. Last week, he had walked by the store to see Yoongi and saw the two of you all chummy. Jin hovered outside for a minute, debating whether he should make himself known. Ultimately, he chose against it knowing Yoongi likes his privacy, especially regarding his love life.

"You were betting on me?" Yoongi exclaims in outrage. They're always betting on silly things. This is the first time they bet on their best friend. Their gambling problem is officially a problem.

"Don't ask stupid questions. Of course, we were," Jin laughs, his black pointy ears flat on his head.

"So the girlfriend? Is she hot? Have you played cat and mouse?" Jimin asks. Yoongi instantly kicks him under the table.

In the 6 years of being friends, Jimin has only witnessed one person leaving Yoongi's apartment, which was a sexy mouse hybrid. That day he also learned that Yoongi plays both ways. Ever since, he teases Yoongi by calling sex 'playing cat and mouse.'

"This was too good to be true," Yoongi huffs. This is why Jin invited them to a dinner he would cook.

Jin refuses to cook outside of his job. He's a chef at a Michelin-star restaurant, and when he's at home, he'll eat frozen dinners or takeout. A paradox of sorts, really. While Jin enjoys cooking, it also feels like a chore, so he won't do it at home. Part of it is his ego; he wants the praise that comes with being an incredible chef.

When Yoongi received the text from Jimin that Jin was cooking he almost ran to Jin's place. A free gourmet dinner? Sign him up. Despite being misled Yoongi stays. He can entertain Jimin and Jin for a few hours. There's food being prepared and multiple bottles of wine on the kitchen counter.

One glass of wine in, and he tells them the bare minimum of his relationship. Two drinks in, and he tells them you were the one to ask him on a date.

Jin is so proud to hear she is human, he's done a great job with Yoongi. Part of Jin's plan is to get him tipsy enough to loosen his tongue, which is why he picked one of the dishes that take the longest to cook. Is it wrong? Possibly, but if he doesn't do it, Yoongi will never give any info.

"She's so cute," Yoongi giggles sipping on the fifth glass, "She defended me the other day when some bitch said she deserved better."

"I take it you're happy, Yoongi?" Jimin asks him, head propped up in his hands. He's more than tipsy, getting carried away by the expensive wine Jin bought.

"I thought I was happy as I was, but then she was just there, and I got so excited when she visited the store. She's soft and kind and doesn't complain about all the kisses. She liked when I purred!" Yoongi says as if it's an outrage.

"We like it when you purr, you ungrateful cat!" Jin shouts, waving around the wooden spoon, splatters of food staining the counter.

"No, you guys tease me about it," Yoongi argues.

"That doesn't mean we don't like it!"

They don't get around to eating Jin's delicious food because they are all too drunk to think when it's done. Jin got too carried away with the timing of the food. Jimin tapped out first, disappearing from the kitchen. Jin and Yoongi resisted longer as their hybrid bodies metabolized alcohol slower.

Yoongi, who is usually quiet, can't stop talking about you. Jin, who is a total gossip, is eating up his words. It's a clear indication the pair is wasted. That and the fourth empty bottle of cabernet.

"Jin, I swear she's driving me insane. She's insatiable, and I fucking love it," Yoongi smiles widely. He's lovestruck and way too drunk. You would surely be furious if you heard how he was talking about your relationship.

"Wow, you finally found someone that keeps up with you." Jin is astonished. Yoongi has a high sex drive. When Jin got him to go out clubbing, he would always leave with someone. Hell, there were times when Yoongi would have someone with him during his heats. He had all the contacts.

"God, she has given me the best head of my fucking life, and she loves it too, always on her fucking knees. Look at this."

Yoongi doesn't think as he pulls a Polaroid out of his wallet. Given your hobby of photography, you have many cameras around the apartment. One day, he didn't hesitate to reach out and snap a pic.

It's a picture of you on your knees, Yoongi's cock in your tiny hand, and your blue hair in two braids barely covering your chest. Yoongi's ring-clad hand is holding your cheeks, forcing you to open your mouth to show his white cum in your mouth.

"Lucky son of a bitch," Jin gasps, staring wide-eyed at the photograph. Yoongi is too drunk to realize how bad it is that he's sharing a picture made only for his eyes. Luckily, Jin is too drunk to remember it in the morning.

Laughing loudly, Yoongi stumbles into Jin's living room. The fox is behind him, yelling at him for rubbing in his face his thriving sex life. Jin feels guilty about the tightness in his pants, he can't help it. He has been single for too long and his job keeps him busy leaving no room for one-night stands. The only release is the one his hand provides.

Yoongi trips on Jimin, sleeping on the floor, his chubby cheek squishing onto the carpet. The room is spinning for the cat hybrid; he barely manages to fall on the couch face down, getting knocked out instantly.

The following day Yoongi wakes up with a splitting headache and a kink in his neck. He stumbles into the kitchen to get water and finds a puffy-faced Jin. He has a spoon in his hand as he eats the untouched food from last night straight from the pot.

"I'm a culinary genius," he talks with his mouth full.

Yoongi grabs the spoon Jin offers him and digs in. He moans at how delicious it is, even if it's cold and he's not quite sure what it is. This is what he came for last night.

"How did I let you fool me again?" Yoongi wonders. It's not the first time Jin has done something like this to get him to join them.

Despite their headaches, both hybrids laugh loudly, the older one choking on the food. Yoongi laughs louder, patting him on the back. He loves his two friends; it's just that he loves being on his own, too, and they can be clingy as fuck. He appreciates it when they reach out, though.

Jimin appears in the doorway with an indignant look on his face. "Some of us are trying to sleep. What has the two of you giggling like a bunch of schoolgirls?"

○●○●○●○●○●

"Help."

Yoongi looks up from the sofa seeing you with your hair parted in chunks. There are strands of hair with blue hair dye and others without.

"What are you doing?" He stands, walking over to you to assess the situation.

"I can't reach the back," you say sheepishly. Whenever you dye your hair, you have friends with you to help you out. Hoseok has helped you a bunch of times as he's used to dyeing his hair. Your brother helps out too, seeing as he learned when he was a teenager to help you out.

You thought you could do it today on your own; you were desperate to revive your hair to the bright blue that you love. You were wrong because it got too messy and complicated as soon as you got to the strands in the back.

Yoongi sighs but follows you into the bathroom. He puts on a pair of gloves and, with your instructions, applies the blue hair dye. He'll be here a while; you have long hair and a lot of it. He hopes you have another dye tube because the one on the tray won't be enough.

"You're doing it wrong," you say for the third time since he started.

Yoongi pulls your hair lightly, forcing your head back to look up at him. He glares at you in warning; he's running out of patience. You reciprocate the glare. "Ouch."

"You're the one that needs help. Tone it down," Yoongi sighs angrily, brushing the dye on the top of your head.

"I'm just saying you're not adding enough," you snap, annoyed at Yoongi.

You should've known better than to ask for Yoongi's help; you're too much of a perfectionist. You're friends know you well enough already to handle your perfectionism. Still, it's something Yoongi has yet to see much of and needs to learn.

"No, you are saying it a whole other thing entirely. I'm no expert and doing you a favor, I don't need all the reprimanding." Yoongi argues, looking at you through the bathroom mirror.

"Fine then, leave," you grit, snatching the paintbrush from his hands to try and do it on your own.

Yoongi blows air out of his nose in anger, taking off his gloves on the way out of the apartment. He puts on his jacket and slams the door behind him.

Angrily you finish applying the hair dye. At this point, you don't care if it ends up patchy. That infuriates you more. While you wait to wash your hair, you slam each drawer and door in your apartment.

In the shower, you cool down and think of what you did again. Maybe, you were a little rough and reacted wrong. You didn't mean for it to come out as it did. Hurrying out of the shower, you get dressed in the first thing you find and leave for Yoongi's to apologize to your kitty.

Yoongi is at home staring at the TV. It plays a random action movie he can't bother paying attention to. You completely ruined his peaceful mood. His ears are flat on his back, clearly showing his anger. You had no reason to treat him that way, he always helps you out, comforts you, treats you like a damn queen, and then you repay him by acting like a total bitch.

He knows it's you when he hears the door. If you're here, you're probably going to apologize. He lets you knock a few more times out of sheer spite. When he opens it, he sees you with flowers and wine, and without a word, he lets you in.

You instantly catch that his mood could be better. Fair enough. "I'm sorry for my behavior earlier. I have no excuse for it."

"I'm glad you see it that way because I do every single fucking thing you want, and I don't warrant that type of treatment," he huffs, letting some of his frustration out.

"You don't have to do everything I want," you say passively, avoiding another argument. You leave the gifts on the kitchen counter.

"You don't get it?" Yoongi chuffs in disbelief, crossing his arms.

"Get what?"

"I do all those things because I like you and want to make you happy. When you treat me like I'm stupid, it drives me nuts. I don't deserve that."

"You're right, you don't," you agree instantly, "I understand if you want me to leave."

With your head hung, you reach for the door. You think that's what he means with his words. You think he's tired of you that you pushed him away with your bitch mood. You didn't mean to act that way; it just comes out sometimes, especially when you're PMSing.

"Come back, you idiot," Yoongi sighs.

Yoongi grabs your arm, slamming you against the door and kissing you hotly. How you irritate him drives him crazy, but you're not perfect, and neither is he. He'd rather work through it than let you go.

Your hands go under his oversized t-shirt, your nails dragging down his abdomen. Yoongi hisses in pain and wraps one of his hands against your throat, squeezing lightly.

"Don't ever speak to me like that, understood?" His voice is low and commanding.

You stare at him with wide eyes, feeling a wave of arousal. It's no secret that Yoongi has that effect on you, and it amplifies when he gets controlling like this.

"Say it, Blue." Yoongi repeats, tightening the fingers around your neck.

"I understand, Yoongi," you say seductively.

With his hand still around your neck, he smashes his lips on yours, teeth and tongue included. Your arms go around him, lightly tugging on his black tail, and his hips thrust as soon as you do. It never fails to surprise him. You've learned so much in the short time you've been with him.

Yoongi hoists you up, wrapping your legs around him, letting him carry you to his bedroom. The door slams against the wall as he indelicately drops you in the bed.

"Take off your clothes," he orders, sitting on the bed. He watches you with hard eyes, waiting for you to do as he says. "Today, Blue," he scorns when you take too long for his liking.

You don't know what's gotten into him, but you like it. Starting with your hoodie-the hoodie he left behind- you reveal a pretty white bra with flower details. Your leggings go next, then your bra, and lastly, your panties. Yoongi barely reacts, motioning you to continue with each piece you take off.

"Lay on the bed," he points with his head.

You crawl onto the bed, laying on the fluffy pillows that spill with his cologne. You're expecting him to join you, you couldn't be more wrong.

"Touch yourself," Yoongi nonchalantly speaks, tongue poking at his cheek in annoyance.

"W-What?" It shouldn't be a big deal you've had sex with Yoongi many times before, but this is different. Touching yourself is something you do in private, not under your boyfriend's scrutinizing gaze.

"Touch yourself, Blue. I know you do it. You think I haven't seen the toys you hide?" He mocks you with a mean smirk.

"Yoongi, I-"

"Touch yourself, now, and look at me while you do," he snaps, sending you a glare.

If you were to say no, that would be the end of it. Yoongi wouldn't force you to do anything you didn't want. He's confident you'd enjoy this, though…to an extent.

Complying, you begin by massaging your breasts, pulling on your hard nipples just like he does when he touches you. Shyly one hand trails down your stomach, and you open your legs, revealing your pussy that Yoongi happens to love so much. It's not an assumption. He's vocalized it many times. He swears he can cum just by looking at it.

Circling your clit with your fingers, you moan his name, calling him to take you. He ignores you, fixating on your actions. A single digit slides between your folds as it easily enters you. You're soaked. It's never the same as when he does it, not as satisfying.

Yoongi notices the glistening of your juices from the foot of the bed, small wet sounds come from your body, along with your whines for him. Your eyes close in instinct while you chase pleasure.

"Open your eyes." You obey his command, your eyes focusing on his face as he licks his lips. You insert two fingers, pumping them steadily, giving him the show he desires.

"How does it feel?" Yoongi inquires, holding your knees open with his strong hands when they clench at the pleasure you're bringing to yourself. He's kneeling right in front of you, entranced.

"Fucking good," you pant, your hand reaching for the one on your knee.

"Better than when I do it?" He asks, lacing your fingers together.

"No, never," you gasp. Yoongi's fingers know you better than you do yourself. They reach depths you've never explored. They are agile and strong due to his talent on the piano. He would touch you just as he does the keys softly at first, adding force when needed and caressing lightly once the piece's climax is over. Always ready to go again and again until he perfect's it.

"Add another one," Yoongi purrs. You've taken his cock many times now. You're always tight but so ready for him.

You replicate his movements when he touches you, curving your fingers until you find that spot. The squelching sound intensifies when you add that third finger, it's music to Yoongi's ears.

A high-pitched yell from you informs him of all he needs to know, "That's it, you found it, haven't you?"

"Yes," you say in a high-pitched moan, your legs try to clench, but Yoongi's strong hands impede you.

"Stop," he says before you cum, "I said stop, Blue!" he roars when you ignore him. You are so close. His hand grips your wrist, forcing you to stop. You open your eyes, hadn't realized they were closed.

"You never listen. Do you?" Yoongi condescendingly mutters.

"I'm sorry," you say, out of breath, hoping he'll join you to finish you off.

He shakes his head, ignoring your apology, "Go on, Lick your fingers."

Obediently you bring your fingers to your lips, licking them clean as per his orders.

"You taste delicious, don't you?"

"Mhm, but you're better." Your eyes are hopeful he'll have his way with you now.

"Too bad 'cause you're not getting it today," he mocks with a fake pout.

"What?" You ask, bewildered.

"Not after what you did today," he says, dipping one of his fingers between your fold, making you shiver. He brings that same finger to his lips, tasting you.

"Yoongi, I said I was sorry," you argue, sitting up on the bed, begging for him.

"And that changes what?" He cocks an eyebrow at your words.

He grabs your chin and kisses you deeply. You numbly follow along before he pulls away, "Get dressed and come out. There's a new episode of that show you like. Oh, and don't you dare cum."

"I don't get it! I'm here begging for you, and you won't touch me." You're upset, but more than that, you're horny. Yoongi is a drug you can't get enough of, and being denied of him sends you into a frenzy. "Wasn't my apology enough?"

"Blue, I forgave you the moment you got here," Yoongi smiles at you sweetly.

"Then why?" You ask, your shoulders slumping.

"Well, just because I forgave you doesn't mean you don't need a punishment."

"And no sex was the way to go. You could do so much better, Yoongi?" You taunt him, thinking this is the way he'll give you what you want.

"Says the girl who couldn't keep her hands to herself and brought me to her apartment on the second date," Yoongi teases her.

"Are you slut shaming me?" You gasp in disbelief.

"No, I'm just saying when it comes to me, you have no control," he shrugs.

"Please, next time I'm mad at you, we'll see who has no control," you pout, gathering your clothes strewn on the floor.

"Probably you. We know how you get when you're mad," Yoongi winks.

You wanted him, he was decided, though, and a stubborn Yoongi always wins. You get dressed again, only in his hoodie, hoping he changes his mind. He doesn't. He acts as if the fight never happened, cuddles you, and kisses you, but that night he doesn't touch you the way you want, ignoring all your advances.

The following day is a different story as Yoongi fucks you like you want, ravaging your body. Everything he held back the day before he uses to his advantage. You didn't hold back one bit as you begged Yoongi to fuck you harder. The neighbors will surely complain to the landlord about the unholy noises coming from his room.

○●○●○●○●○●

“Ah,” Yoongi’s moans are hidden by the water falling from the shower. He’s right below the shower head, cold water covering his body. The past three months have gone by so quickly that his heat surprised him.

His back leans against the shower wall as he rubs himself under the cold water. His hips thrust into his hand in desperate need. Yoongi whines in discomfort; his peak is too hard to reach alone. He would call you, but he’s not ready yet. He is not in complete control when he’s in heat, Yoongi knows he’ll say things that will throw you off, and it’s not like you’ll even agree to help him in the first place. You love sex, and you love sex with Yoongi, but this is something else entirely.

Yoongi moans as he continues to pump his cock. It feels so good yet so painful at the same time. The more he reaches his climax, the more the pain intensifies. If he had you here, he’d have you against the wall as he fucks you from behind. The thought sends another wave of heat through his body.

In his horny haze, he remembers something he stole from you, a little piece of you. He shuts off the water, not bothering to dry himself. He has the panties he stole from you that day at the shop on his nightstand drawer. They have your scent attached to them. Should be enough to let him cum.

Yoongi lies on his bed, sweat, and water sticking to the bed sheets. He grabs the soft fabric and envelops it in his aching length. Yoongi fists his length, imagining he’s with you, how your hands tighten around his cock, or how you like to choke on it when giving him head. Your tight fucking pussy always feels so good. He always needs to stretch you out with his fingers. His moves quicken; the only noise in the room is his desperate moans calling for you, for his Blue. Reaching his orgasm, he covers your panties with his cum. Momentarily his temperature lowers, and his breathing slows as he catches his breath. The first day is the worst. He just needs to get over this day.

If he’d been single, he would’ve called other hybrids he knew and had helped him before. He has you know he doesn’t want to disrespect you or your relationship. He’d be thinking of you even if he’s with someone else. Due to this, through the next two days, his hand becomes his best friend.

                      ○●○●○●○●○●

It’s your six-month anniversary today, and after a romantic date, you and Yoongi desperately enter your apartment. Hands are everywhere, lips are swollen, and sex is in the air. Yoongi teased you all night under the dinner table, refusing to give you what you wanted. Your begging in his ear to fuck you in the car or bathroom not working in your favor.

The door to your apartment bangs against the wall as you push it open. Yoongi pushes you into the room, slamming the door behind him. He likes to think he has it memorized. He pulls your leg around his waist, grinding against you. You moan as he buries his head on your neck.

A cough and the scent of another hybrid force Yoongi to stop in his tracks. With narrowed eyes, he pulls away from your neck. A bunny hybrid stands at the living room entrance, a corn popsicle in his hand.

“For fucks sake Jungkook,” you say under your breath, creating distance between you and Yoongi. “How many times have I told you to call ahead?”

“I did, though! I sent you a message this morning,” he shrugs, taking a bite of his ice cream.

“The message says ‘What’s up?’” You read the message, expecting to see another one following up with an announcement of his visit. The bunny shrugs like it’s not his problem, and you sigh in annoyance.

Yoongi is confused, to say the least. Who is this stranger in your living room? Noticing his expression, you quickly introduce the two hybrids.

“Yoongi, this is my brother Jungkook.”

Yoongi’s confusion rises to a new degree; something is not adding up. Jungkook catches on to his train of thought, and with a chuckle, he adds, “Adopted.”

You had never mentioned your brother was a hybrid. You’ve been dating for six months, and that never came up once. He wonders why that is. It would explain the light hybrid scent in your apartment. Yoongi always thought it came from one of your neighbor’s apartments.

“Nice to meet you, Jungkook,” Yoongi coughs to ease the tension.

“How long are you staying?” You ask your brother, crossing your arms against your chest. You are slightly upset, today is meant to be a celebration, and with Jungkook here, that can’t happen. Still, you’re not mad. You love Kook; he’s your best friend.

“Just the weekend, I got an exam on Tuesday,” Jungkook says.

“You look really nice,” he tells you, “Were you guys on a date?”

Yoongi nods solemnly. He’s not sure what to do in this situation. He thought when he’d meet your family, it wouldn’t be in such a compromising condition. Granted, Jungkook being a hybrid helped ease his nerves. He doesn’t have to worry about a stranger judging him or you for your relationship.

“I’m sorry for interrupting,” Jungkook grimaces in apology.

“Does mom know you’re here?” You ask him while walking to your room.

Clearly, Jungkook is here to stay, so you’ll change and get more comfortable. There’s no use in staying in the uncomfortable dress and lingerie you’d worn for Yoongi. You can save it for next time and surprise him with the black lace set.

“Nope,” he simply says, following you to your room.

You close the door behind you, and Jungkook continues the conversation on the other side. While you forgot to mention that Jungkook is a hybrid, you mentioned that he has no boundaries and easily gets very comfortable with people.

Feeling out of place, Yoongi waits for you on the couch. Maybe with Jungkook here, you wouldn’t like him to stay, or you’d leave with him to his place. The bunny hybrid carefully eyed him as if assessing if he was a good guy or not.

Jungkook almost falls when you open the door. You’ve changed into his hoodie, shorts, and geeky superhero socks. It’s been getting colder lately, making your feet feel freezing. Whenever you go to bed with Yoongi, you press your cold feet on his thigh, making him hiss. Then you’d remind him of his promise of keeping you warm six months ago.

“I couldn’t find the banana milk,” Jungkook pouts, following you around the apartment.

“It’s on the pantry’s lowest shelf,” you mention, flopping on the couch beside Yoongi.

You cuddle on his side when he wraps an arm around your shoulder. Jungkook returns to the living room, eyeing the both of you.

“Jungkook, don’t be so awkward,” you laugh at him, patting the seat beside you.

“I feel bad I interrupted you guys night,” he admits, flopping beside you like you did moments ago. It’s hard to say who got that from who.

“It’s no problem, Jungkook. I’m happy to finally meet you,” Yoongi adds that it’s no biggie.

Jungkook smiles at the both of you and finally eases up. He spends the rest of the night getting to know Yoongi better. You’re pleased they both get along well. If anything, Jungkook even looks up at Yoongi. When you told him you were dating a hybrid, Jungkook was ecstatic. He never mentioned it, but whenever you brought home your human boyfriends, they were always uncomfortable around Jungkook, which hurt him. 

They never understood his hybrid mannerisms. They’d begin thinking he was hitting on you after learning that he was adopted. Now with Yoongi, he won’t have that problem because he will understand.

At the end of the night, Yoongi stays. He’d offered to leave, but you didn’t see a point to it. Even if you do nothing tonight due to your guest’s heightened sense of hearing, you want him to stay to finish the celebration.

“So adopted?” Yoongi asks. He’s lying on your chest as your play with his hair. It calms him down.

“Mm, yes.”

As a teen, your mom had a friend, and she had a bunny girl hybrid as a servant. They didn’t treat her the best, but your mom was always kind to her, and they became somewhat friends. They kept in touch through the years. One day when you were 16 and Jungkook was 12, she died in a car accident. Some believe it was on purpose. 

At the time, she was working for a sketchy man, and he did unspeakable things to her that she could not repeat. By now, the law for hybrids had passed, and she was going to report him. The man followed her and ran over her with his car. Before she died in the hospital, she asked your mom to take care of Jungkook. You and Jungkook became best friends, and your parents gained another child.

“That was nice of your family,” Yoongi hums, caressing your leg.

Jungkook is lucky he was born after the law for hybrids was passed; hence, he was not separated from his mother and got to meet and get to know her. 

Yoongi never got to meet his mom, he doesn’t even have a name. If his memory is good, Jungkook still remembers her, or he has photographs. As soon as Yoongi was born, he was raised with other hybrid kids, and when Yoongi was old enough, he got sold to servitude.

“You should’ve seen him when he first moved in, shy and cute,” you gush over Jungkook. He had this wide-eyed innocent gaze. He always asked permission for everything and anything. It took your family a while to break that habit. It makes you laugh cause nowadays, he does as he wishes and has everyone wrapped around his little finger.

“Reminds me of someone,” Yoongi mentions, squeezing your thigh.

“That’s different. I was flustered by your dashing good looks!” you exclaim, lightly slapping his chest.

The following day you wake up bright and early to prepare breakfast. Jungkook walks in with his hair pointing in all directions. He kisses your cheek in greeting before sitting on the kitchen table. Like clockwork, you give him a glass of juice with a straw and a silicone tip. 

Jungkook likes biting on straws (on everything he can get his teeth on). When you stopped buying the plastics ones for the more environmentally friendly metal ones, Jungkook didn’t like that and began complaining about how he couldn’t bite into them. Falling for his whines, you bought a pack of silicone tips and then another, and then another cause he destroyed them with his bunny teeth.

“Have plans today?” You ask him, ruffling his messy hair. Jungkook leans into his touch, feeling comforted by the simple action.

“I think I’m gonna lazy around and play online if that’s okay,” he asks sweetly, knowing that otherwise you would scold him and tell him to go out and enjoy the fresh air. He doesn’t know that since you’ve been with Yoongi, you’ve turned more into a homebody.

“Of course. Yoongi and I will be heading out to work soon, but you call me if you need anything.”

You had prepared a stack of blueberry pancakes for all of you. You served Jungkook a big plate, knowing he eats like there’s no tomorrow. His bunny metabolism helps him with that, and his unrelenting energy. As you place the plate in front of Jungkook, he gently bites into your arm.

You sigh in defeat, knowing there’s no way for him to stop his biting. For years you’ve told him not to do it, but it’s an instinct of his. He does it when he’s angry, when he’s sleepy, when he’s happy, when he’s annoyed. What varies is how hard he does it.

Jungkook smiles mischievously, waiting for your complaint, but all you do is brush through his long dark hair, undoing the knots that form by his bunny ears. Just like Yoongi purrs, Jungkook makes a weird sound in the back of his throat whenever you touch him around his ears.

Yoongi, having woken up later than you, walks into the kitchen. He’s dressed in clothes he’s left here in the past months. He beelines for you, pecking your lips sweetly as you hand him a plate of pancakes.

“Morning, Jungkook,” Yoongi greets the younger boy.

“Morning, Yoongi,” Jungkook says with his mouth full of pancakes.

You sit between them, striking conversation between the three of you. It’s much easier than you thought, as Jungkook just asks question after question at Yoongi. He’s never felt more at ease with one of your boyfriends.

“Can I stop by the store later?” He asks Yoongi with puppy dog eyes.

“Sure, I’ll be there till 6,” Yoongi agrees with a soft smile. There is a lot of Jungkook that reminds him of you. While you are not biologically related, you’ve adapted to each other’s mannerisms.

In the afternoon, Jungkook stops by your office to have lunch. He always has a great time at your building since most people know him there. He hopes to work there after he graduates from university.

As promised, Jungkook then stops by Yoongi’s store. He has walked by the small shop many times but never stopped to go inside. The bell at the door jingles when Jungkook walks in. Yoongi has just finished checking out a customer.

“Hey, Kook.” Yoongi greets him, his black tail swishing behind him. He’s heard you call him Kook so many times it stuck.

“Hi, Yoongi,” Jungkook absentmindedly responds, staring around the store and its variety, from musical instruments to producing equipment to music albums of all kinds and formats.

“Your sister mentioned you were collecting vinyl?” Yoongi asks him, leaning against the counter.

“Yeah, I have a few,” Jungkook nods, looking at the cat hybrid, who offers him a sneaky smile.

“I pulled these out for you. I think you might like them.” Yoongi pulls out two pieces of vinyl still wrapped in plastic from the shelf behind him. Yoongi likes the bunny hybrid and sees how happy he makes you, so he doesn’t mind giving Jungkook a small gift.

“How do you have these?” Jungkook exclaims in awe. In his hands are two limited edition vinyls of his favorite artists. These have been sold out everywhere for a long time, and very few people sold them. Whenever they did the waitlist, the bids were ridiculous.

“I’ve got contacts,” Yoongi shrugs cockily.

“I have a feeling we’re gonna get along just fine,” Jungkook beams at him, gushing over the vinyl.

They spend quite a lot of time talking about music, and Yoongi is surprised at all the knowledge the bunny holds. There are things Yoongi thought only a few people knew, but Jungkook is proving him wrong here.

“Is there a reason you visited this weekend?” Yoongi smoothly asks Jungkook. He’s noticed some things about the bunny that lead him to think it’s not just to have a friendly visit.

“Nope, was tired of school,” Jungkook says, lying.

“Your sister has mentioned you like to skip a lot,” Yoongi adds. He’s staring out the window wanting to keep the bunny calm.

“I don’t skip that much,” Jungkook complains with a groan. His sister always exaggerates things, he barely misses school.

“Everything okay?” Yoongi inquires again.

“I know my sister worries, but I’m fine. You don’t have to do this.”

Since he came into your life, you’ve worried about Jungkook-or not so much about him but the people around him. Not everyone is tolerant of hybrids, and you know this. When he came into your life, you were already in high school, so you weren’t there to defend him when bullies bothered him. When he was 12, he wasn’t big and buff to scare people away as he is now. He was small and scrawny, your parents talked to the principal and the other parents, but there’s only so much they could do.

“She didn’t send me to do anything. I just noticed the bruise on your arm,” Yoongi points to Jungkook’s left arm.

“Don’t tell her,” Jungkook sighs, defeated. He’d tried to hide the bruise as best he could. “My roommate is an ass, and he’s always taunting me, calling me a helpless bunny. He’s provoking me. I usually leave because if I throw the first punch, I get expelled. My parents did a lot to get me into the school I wanted. I don’t want to let them down.”

“You’re doing good, Jungkook,” Yoongi says thoughtfully. He understands Jungkook’s predicament. No matter how well a hybrid does, one misstep can end it all.

“But?” Jungkook prompts, there’s always a but.

“You should tell someone, get you out of that dorm. Staying quiet will only get you so far,” Yoongi advices. From his perspective, Jungkook has a great support system and should take advantage of that.

“Maybe, I don’t want the attention, though, or for my family to worry,” Jungkook explains. They’ve done so much for him already. He doesn’t want to be a burden.

“Just think about it. Your sister is worrying and doesn’t know what’s happening.”

“You won’t tell her?” Jungkook pleads, finding Yoongi’s gaze. All he wants is to do this by himself.

“It’s not my place,” he reassures Jungkook with a nod.

Thinking of Yoongi’s words, Jungkook agrees. He’ll take care of this situation. He’ll apply for a new roommate or move in by himself. Next time something happens, he’ll speak up.

○●○●○●○●○●

One lazy morning, Yoongi stares at the ceiling. It’s too early to be up. His arm is around you as your head lies on his chest. He had woken up from a nightmare. It had been a while since he had one of those. Why is it that when things are going great, the universe reminds him of the horrible things he’s been through?

Yoongi feels you stir as you wake up. You stretch out your limbs before settling back in Yoongi’s chest.

“Why are you awake so early?” You yawn, kissing his exposed chest. Yoongi can’t sleep with many clothes on, or he’ll get too hot at night.

Yoongi hugs you close, kissing your head, “I had a nightmare.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Yoongi hasn’t told you much about his past life. When he talks about his past, it’s mainly the part of his life after Lee adopted him. You understand it’s something he wants to leave behind and respect it. It’s time, though, Yoongi thinks.

“When I was a kid before the law passed, I was owned by this family,” Yoongi begins, “Even though I was barely a child, they would have me do chores around the house, clean up their kids’ messes, and obey every little word they said. I remember their kids bullying me into acting ‘like the animal I was.’ They would make me eat off the floor and crawl around the house till my knees were bruised. They’d get physical too, pulling on my tail and ears till I cried.”

“I’m so sorry, Yoongi,” you say sadly. You can’t imagine a child going through that, yet it’s the reality many hybrids face.

“When the law passed, I was thrown into the streets. I was alone, cold, and hungry, eating off the trash like a stray. An old woman took me in. She was nice enough. She needed company, but more than that, she needed help around the house. Mostly, I went unscathed unless I did something she thought was out of line. That’s when she’d search for her dead husband’s belt and beat me with it. I never left, though. Where would I go? When she died, I was 14, and back to the streets, I went. I went to different hybrid and homeless shelters, but there was always some sort of problem with them, and they never offered a way to get out of the streets.”

“What did you do then?” Your hands are trailing up and down his stomach, offering some comfort.

“I came to this city, hoping there would be more resources. It was the same. That’s when things truly got worse….” Yoongi trails off, thinking of his past.

“Yoongs, you don’t have to,” You reassure him, getting in a position where you can see his face. His eyes are distant, so you touch his cheek and peck his lips.

“I want you to know,” he slowly responds.

“Okay,” you nod, offering him a small smile that you hoped comforted him.

“There was this sketchy guy I always saw around, and one day he asked me if I wanted to make some money. He knew I did, and he used that to his advantage. He had customers all around the city with different tasks. All I had to do was go to the addresses he gave me, do whatever they wanted me to do, and leave. And I did, at first, it was stupid stuff to help an older man with a yard, clean a house, or do a delivery. When he had my trust, things got sketchier delivering mystery packages to rundown houses, watching some people and reporting back to him, and transporting vehicles from one side of town to another.

Until one day, he said he had an extra special job for me. All I had to do was go to an apartment in the middle of the city. I went, and there, a lady greeted me. It was unlike anything I had ever done before; she complimented me. She led me to this false sense of security and then took what she wanted.” Yoongi pauses, remembering that horrible day, “Turns out they pay a lot for hybrids in heat.”

You think of Jungkook and what would’ve been of him if your family hadn’t taken him in. Your poor Jungkook wouldn’t have survived what Yoongi went through. His heart has always been too pure, too gentle. More so, you feel pain for Yoongi for having to go through it. What he’s been through is some people’s worst nightmare, and he had to go through it all alone.

“I left after that day, didn’t accept the money that came with it or any other tasks offered to me. I spent a year in the streets, barely scraping by and hiding in alleys. There was the music store I always walked by, and one day I gathered the courage to walk in. Lee instantly spotted me and watched me as I played a few keys on the piano. An instrument that has been there for most of my life. The first family I had owned one, and I got to learn the basics by watching their kid’s lessons. The old lady had one, too, that she let me use. She actually liked when I played.

I played a song lightly on Lee’s display piano, and when I finished, Lee was there watching me. He asked me if I needed a job, and despite me showing him I was a homeless hybrid, he didn’t care. Turns out Lee had lost a son due to an illness, and he saw something of his son in me. I was hesitant initially, but Lee always proved to be an honorable man. That’s where I’ve stayed until now, repaying him for everything he did for me.”

When he finishes the story, you have tear tracks down your face. You didn’t want to cry. You didn’t deserve to. After all, you were not the one to go through that stuff, yet you felt for Yoongi. You felt the pain in his voice and the injustices he had to go through. His memories still haunt him through his dreams when he should be resting peacefully in the safety of his home.

“I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through.” Your voice is watery as you try to voice your thoughts, “I’m so happy that you found Lee and that you’ve found happiness because it’s all you deserve and more.”

“I love you, Blue,” Yoongi confesses for the first time, sitting on the bed. “It’s why I’m telling you, I love you, and you need to know my past before it’s too late.” He needed you to know in case you decided to leave.

“I love you too, Yoongi,” you cry out happily, holding his cheeks in your hands. “It pains me that you have such a tragic past, but it led you to me, and it’s not going to change how I think of you.”

With tears of relief in his eyes, Yoongi kisses you nice and softly. He loves you, and you love him. You know everything you need to know about him, and it didn’t scare you away. He couldn’t ask for anything better.

○●○●○●○●○●

By the time his next heat rolls around, Yoongi has talked to you about it. You had randomly brought up the subject one night, asking him about what he did in those instances. He had been honest about how he usually had someone helping him and reciprocated that help when the time came. He quickly added how he was all alone last time, afraid you’d think he had cheated.

It all made you feel guilty; you didn’t want Yoongi to be in pain and discomfort because of you. At the same time, you did not like the idea of someone else getting to help him and touch him when he was in such a vulnerable state. The only solution was to offer him your help to which he reluctantly agreed.

It led to a long night of Yoongi giving you a rundown of what usually happens when he’s in heat and what to expect. He pretty straightforwardly told you not to take to heart all the breeding references about giving you his babies. You’d giggled at that and told him not to worry. You might actually be into that.

The fated day finally arrives without warning. His constant fucking around with you completely masked the incessant horny feeling he gets. Your voice wakes him up, ripping him away from the dreamy haze he had been in. Unconsciously he had been rutting against her side, his cock rock hard and larger than normal.

“Yoong’s, you’re burning up,” you say, touching his forehead, which is beginning to be coated by sweat.

“I have to go,” Yoongi groans, sitting up. Despite having thrashed all the sheets, he’s sweaty and sticky, “I’m in heat.”

“Yoongi, we talked about this. You have me now. You don’t have to go through this alone,” you tell him, holding onto his arm, preventing him from getting up.

“It can be too much, Blue, and I won’t be thinking straight,” he insists half-heartedly. All he wants is your help, but he’s scared you’ll be disgusted by this side of him.

“Lie back down. I’ve got you,” you say, pushing Yoongi lightly back onto the pillows.

Taking off your underwear, you lift the oversized t-shirt you wore to bed and straddle him. Since this isn’t a time to have tons of foreplay, you grab his hard cock, pumping it while you rub your clit to get yourself wet. Yoongi complains, wanting to feel the warmth of your pussy, swearing it’s the only thing that will relieve him.

Finally, you take all his cock, a sting following as you get used to his size. He’s so much bigger when he’s in heat you have never felt as full. Yoongi sighs in relief under you, grabbing your hips to set a pace that will please him best. His hands gripping you so tightly he thrusts into you desperately. His eyes are closed, concentrating on how you clench around him, but he needs more.

He pulls out of you and swiftly brings you to your knees, your front pressed onto the mattress. He slams back into you without hesitation, making you moan loudly onto the pillows. The room is all but quiet. You’re whining from Yoongi, pushing deep into you. Yoongi is groaning filthy words about how well your pussy is taking him, and the sound of your skin slapping reverberates.

For Yoongi, the first wave is the hardest to overcome. It takes a lot out of him to cum. He wants to so badly, but the pain edges him on. Luckily, you’re great to help with what you do next.

“Fuck me, Yoongi. I wanna have your babies!” You yell under him.

You swear your words make Yoongi’s cock swell even more, the stretch unreal. He thrusts hard, pulling away entirely and slamming back in. Tears well in your eyes. It feels too good. You’ve already cum around him once, and he barely noticed. You’re overstimulated by this new experience.

“We’re gonna keep going until you’re full of my cum,” he groans. Yoongi is drenched in sweat his hair sticking onto his forehead. His chest glistens with the dimmed lights of the bedroom.

Yoongi is entranced by how his cockhead pops in and out of your wet pussy. His length is entirely covered in your slick, making it much easier to thrust into you. You were made just for him. There’s no other explanation for why you feel so good hugging his cock.

Finally, feeling like he’s near his release, he lifts you up your back is against his front. He digs his head into your neck, breathing your delightful smell in. His scent entangled in yours prompts him to harshly bite you, leaving a mark on your neck as if he has claimed you as his. Yoongi is right, you are a pain slut, which brings you over the edge.

“That’s it, Blue, milk my cock, take all of it,” Yoongi stills as you clench around him, his nails digging into your hips, leaving half-moon marks on your skin as he empties inside of you.

“Everything you’ll give me,” You pant, your legs feeling like jelly as you slump against Yoongi.

Pulling your head to the side, he places short messy kisses all over your face. The heat waves he felt coursing through his body ceased momentarily. He pulls out of you, his cock not quite soft yet. You whine at the emptiness and how sensitive you feel down there.

Cum trickles out of you as you lay back on the bed, yet Yoongi pushes it back with his fingers. He hushes you when you shudder, kissing your thigh, “Can’t waste it.”

As you predicted, some minutes after his first release Yoongi is back on you. He kneels between your legs, grabbing your hips to fuck you like that. Yoongi is a visual person, so he takes much pleasure watching you take his cock, your cunt pink and puffy from his previous abuse. Part of his cum leaks out of you, although this time around, he doesn’t worry as he promises to give you more.

His mind flashes with the thought of you pregnant, carrying his kittens. Pretty girl. He splays his hand over your lower abdomen and presses down, he feels himself inside of you, and you see stars as he stimulates your spot. You cum again, legs shaking. Yoongi drips in sweat and, with a painful groan, releases inside of you again. Still inside you, plugging you up, he breathes heavily and lays on your chest. You brush through his wet hair, whispering sweet nothings.

“You did so well, Yoongi,” you rasp out, “Fucked me so good.”

Your throat is dry and raspy. You need water, yet you don’t dare to get up. Yoongi needs you.

“You don’t have to stay,” he whispers, “I can finish this myself. You’ve done more than enough.”

Through his haze, he offers you another exit. Heats are too much for the hybrid. He can’t imagine how much it’ll be for you. He appreciates your help but understands if you want to leave now that you’ve tasted how it is.

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should,” you reassure him gently, “I want to help you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Yoongi insists, kissing the swell of your breast.

“You won’t,” you laugh, “I’m sturdier than I seem.”

Yoongi props up on his elbows and thrust slowly, feeling more in control. “I love you, Blue.”

“I love you, Yoongi,” you gasp. Yoongi pins your hands at your sides, lacing your fingers with his.

He’s so pretty with his face flushed. He looks softer with the needy expressions he’s making. Your legs wrap around his waist, trapping him close to you. Yoongi likes it when you get clingy and territorial. It makes him feel wanted.

You sleep hours later with your leg over his hip and his cock nestled inside you. He had managed to snooze off too. Granted, right before your alarm rings, he’s already thrusting into you. You hold onto his back, moaning into his ear and leaving scratch marks behind.

The next day you leave for work, not before Yoongi scents you and fucks you in the shower. The water washing away the remains of him. When you return in the afternoon, he waits for you, shirtless and in sweatpants laying low. He takes you against the door, jeans down to your knees.

By the third day, Yoongi is high and lazy from fucking you so much. He lets you take control, and you ride him lazily, his hands tracing the bruises on your body, some accidental, some on purpose. In his moments of lucidity, he apologizes for the roughness. It’s never his intention to hurt you. You always so kindly wave him off. You don’t care about them, just that your kitty is getting the relief he needs.

You’ve received strange looks at work, and you later learn by visiting Tae it’s because you smell like Yoongi, your usual florals and chocolate scent are almost gone. Only hybrids notice that, so Yoongi also leaves hickeys on your neck (which you hide) for the humans that might want to try something.

By the fourth day, his heat is over. You sneak out of bed to go to work and let Yoongi rest. He’s as still as the dead, exhausted and spent. When you return from work, you smell home-cooked food, and the table is set romantically with flowers in the center and candles.

“You’re home,” Yoongi says, kissing you gently, “Come, I’ve prepared you a bath.”

He leads you to the bathroom, where the tub is steaming with bath salts and bath bombs, more candles are alight, and a glass of wine rests by the tub. Yoongi helps you undress, kissing each and every bruise on your body. You giggle at certain parts as you’re ticklish. Then he offers his hand to help you into the tub.

“Take all the time you need. I’ll be finishing up dinner,” he softly smiles at you.

You relax into the water and nod. Yoongi didn’t have to do any of this; it’s not like he can control his heat. It has you feeling cared for, though, and that’s something you can’t take for granted. When you get dressed, you both have dinner. He apologizes again and hopes he didn’t scare you away. You reassure him he didn’t. You even tell him you found most of it hot, including the breeding kink that came naturally with him.

Yoongi blushes and says ‘noted’ under his breath. The rest of the night, you and Yoongi cuddle, and before bed, he gives you a massage. You tell him he’s going overboard, but he insists, and who are you to refuse?

Days later, you take a pregnancy test, scared of the result. You have no symptoms, but the amount of times you and Yoongi had sex is unholy, and you’re afraid your birth control pills might’ve failed you. His heat clouds his mind, it’s designed to breed and reproduce. Each time he came, he did it inside of you. You know your birth control is 95% effective, yet what’s to stop you from being that 5%. You’re not ready for children. It’s not something you’ve spoken about, either. You pick up the test with shaking hands once the alarm goes off. It’s negative.

○●○●○●○●○●

There are days when you are too busy to go out for lunch. Today is one of those days. Luckily, Yoongi offers to bring you food for when you have time to eat something. It’s his first time visiting you at work, and he realizes he doesn’t know exactly where you work. He always thought you worked at the multi-office building near the corner.

When he follows the direction, it leads him to the building he despises. You never told Yoongi you work there. Feeling uncomfortable, he walks in, where a receptionist greets him, “Hello, how can I help you today?”

Yoongi tells her your name. It feels foreign on his tongue. He’s always called you Blue, and very few people call you by your government name as it is.

“Oh, you must be Yoongi! She told me you’d be coming. Take this pass. Her office is to the left on the 30th floor. You’ll see her name on the door.”

That’s a high number. In fact, it’s one of the few at the top. Usually, that means a high position, but you’ve never really talked about your job. Yoongi knocks on the frosted glass door with your name on it, preceded by Prod.

He wants to leave. How come you never told him you were a producer? That seems like the thing to say when your boyfriend owns a Music Store. You had told him you loved music, and that was it. Anyone can love music and not be involved at all. Not even that whenever he asked about work, you’d say you didn’t like talking about it to keep things separate. How many songs has he heard on the radio that you worked on?

He gets no response, so he opens the frosted glass door he sees a studio with state-of-the-art equipment. You were at the desk with big headphones covering your ears. He could hear a beat coming from them. He taps you on your shoulder, and you jump in surprise.

“Yoongi!” You say loudly, forgetting the headphones on your ears. “Oops, sorry.”

“Hey, I got your food,” he says, raising the plastic bag, but his eyes can’t stop taking in the studio and all the tools you had.

“You are a lifesaver,” you gush, grabbing the bag from him to open it.

“You never mentioned you were a producer,” he clicks his tongue in mild annoyance.

“I didn’t?” you ask, distracted by the food, “Huh, well, this where I work, always at your service.”

“Your boyfriend works at a Music Store, and you forget to mention your work in music,” Yoongi says sarcastically.

“I did say I worked at this building,” you roll your eyes with a smile thinking his joking.

“I always thought it was the other one with the medical offices,” he coughs, scratching the back of his neck in awkwardness.

“This is a huge miscommunication, my bad,” you say sheepishly, taking a bite of the sushi he bought for you.

Yoongi doesn’t know how to feel. He hates the building company for denying him the opportunity of becoming an artist. They were clearly against him being a hybrid despite having the talent. And here you are, working happily in what he wanted. You’re living his dream. It should make you perfect for him, yet all he feels is resentment.

You don’t sense his internal ‘debate’ as you eat. You’re too much in your head over the deadlines you have to meet. It doesn’t work in your favor as Yoongi leaves with a kiss on your cheeks with the excuse of a delivery to the shop. He had to get out of there and think clearly before he blew up on you.

He spends the whole day thinking about how you can work in a company that is against hybrids. He lets his losses get to him and project to you. So when you arrive at his apartment that night to spend time with him, he doesn’t greet you and just spits out, “How can you work in that company?”

“Excuse me?” You ask him, confused you haven’t even taken off your coat.

“That’s such a horrible company, Blue! They discriminate against hybrids. I can’t believe you’d work in such a place,” he argues, standing before you. His posture is tense and his ears and tail lay flat against his body.

“Yoongi, what the fuck? What are you going on about? The company is not against hybrids,” You exclaim, taking a step back.

“Of course they are. I lived through it,” Yoongi reveals.

You pause with wide eyes, “When? You’ve never mentioned it before.”

“Five years ago, I went to audition as a producer. They said that despite my talent, they wouldn’t hire me,” he says, fingers raking through his dark hair.

“That’s unbelievable,” you huff, crossing your arms defensively. Many hybrids work at the company, and she’s never heard complaints of the boss treating them poorly.

“How can you not believe me, your boyfriend, and believe the awful people,” Yoongi scolds her angrily. You can’t be so blind.

“Because that’s my family!” You yell, shutting him up.

“What?” Yoongi goes slack at your words.

“My dad is the company’s CEO, and I can assure you we are not discriminatory against hybrids. For fucks sake, Yoongi, you’ve met Jungkook. Would people who hate hybrids adopt one?”

You don’t like to pull out often that your dad is the CEO of the family company, but this is Yoongi you’re talking to. He cares about you, and you’ve been together long enough that it feels okay for him to know. Besides, maybe this way, he’ll understand that what he says is a lie.

His following words slip with little thought. “Who knows, maybe you just want to look good to the public?”

“If that’s what you think, fine. I’m leaving,” you respond firmly. You will not take anyone speaking shit about your family. It hurts you to hear him say those things. By insulting your family, he insults you too.

You hope Yoongi stops you, but he doesn’t. He knows what he was told. He stays silent, waiting for you to go. He’s set on his way.

It’s one long week where you barely talk to Yoongi. You give him time to apologize or reach out, but he doesn’t. When he realizes his mistake of comparing you to the ones that hurt him, you don’t answer.

○●○●○●○●○●

It has to be a mistake. There is no way your father, who runs the company, turned someone down for being a hybrid. Hell, half of the staff are hybrids. Producers, artists, HR, everything. There are hybrids in all departments. How come Yoongi didn’t see that when he visited.

You’ve spent enough time stewing on this. Time to go to the source, your father. You knock on his office door and hear faintly, “Come in.”

“Darling, how nice of you to visit your old man,” your dad jokes, standing from his desk to hug you.

“Sorry, dad, I’ve been swamped,” you apologize, plopping down on one of the plush chairs in front of his desk.

“I know, I’ve seen your reports, and you’re doing well. I’m proud of you,” he smiles at his daughter, expecting one in return. Instead, she plays with a loose thread on her sweater, not paying attention to him. “What troubles you?”

“You know the guy I’m dating,” you sigh, looking up at your dad.

“Yoongi, yes,” he nods, remembering everything you’ve told him about Yoongi.

“Apparently, he auditioned here like 7-ish years ago, and he says that you or whoever was in his audition didn’t accept him because he was a hybrid,” you say. It’s best not to beat around the bush.

“Really?” He asks, concerned, “Let me look it up.”

In times like these, he’s glad the company keeps a database of all the auditions and interview processes. One of his goals as CEO is to eliminate barriers between all kinds of people, giving them all a fair chance of working here.

“I have his file up. I remember him. He was very talented. He never came back. What a shame,” he hums, rewatching the audition.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“I couldn’t accept him at the time, but I told him to come in a year or two for another audition,” your father explains, passing you a flash drive with the audition.

“Why didn’t you accept him at the time?”

“It wouldn’t be beneficial for him at the time the regulations for hybrids in big companies were not good. They basically required full background screenings and medical exams. And the health benefits were basically nonexistent. Most hybrids don’t have past experiences, and if they do, they’re bad not because they are, but because of the situation they are put through. It wasn’t until a year later they eliminated that law, and their rights were looking better.”

“That makes sense,” you sigh in relief. You shouldn’t have doubted your family.

“If he wants, he can have another audition. You know we’re always looking for new producers.”

“Thanks, dad, I’ll mention it to him,” you smile, leaving.

This is great! Yoongi can audition, and he’ll be able to work alongside you. You just know he’ll do so well. He already has an excellent ear for music. He may be a bit rusty, but nothing a little practice can’t help. She can lend him a hand too!

“Send him my apologies. I never wanted it to seem the wrong way.”

“I will,” you say, rushing out the door.

A knock on the door interrupts Yoongi’s evening nap. He opens the door expecting Jimin or Jin, but you’re at the door with your arms crossed.

“You’re an idiot,” you shoulder him to walk into the apartment.

“I know. I’m sorry, Blue, I shouldn’t have overreacted and assumed things about you,” Yoongi sincerely apologizes.

“You think?” You cock an eyebrow at him.

“I’m apologizing, don’t be a bitch,” Yoongi pouts, not liking your attitude.

“It’s just you infuriate me. I’ve been good to you. I don’t think I’ve ever done something to hurt you, and if I have, I’m sorry. But what you did was so unfair. Even if my family were as horrible as you made them seem, I’m not them. And I haven’t given you a reason to believe that,” you lightly argue. You’re not looking to pick a fight. You just want him to understand.

Yoongi hugs you from behind. His words don’t mean anything right now. He lets you vent. You relax against him eventually, grabbing the arms that were around you.

“I talked to my dad,” you whisper, “you misunderstood the situation, Yoongs.”

“Blue, I’m sure of what I heard,” he whispers back.

“My dad records his auditions for moments like this,” you say, handing him the flash drive. “You were great Yoong’s, and they would’ve hired you. They didn’t because it wouldn’t have been helpful for you.”

You explain the situation and your father’s words. If he had gone through the audition, the government tracking hybrids wouldn’t process his applications. That’s why your father told him to return.

“I-how could I have misunderstood this so badly,” Yoongi sighs defeated. He could’ve been so much happier sooner if he had only listened. He could’ve been a producer already. He would’ve met you a long time ago as well.

“It was seven years ago. You were hurt and wanted a reason to be mad,” you comfort him.

“I’ve spent seven years glaring at the building for nothing,” Yoongi humorously laughs.

“My dad says if you want an audition, you have it,” you tell him.

“Really?” Yoongi looks at you, “I don’t know if that’s what I want anymore. I gave up on that dream long ago.”

Being a producer was his biggest dream, yet after the disappointment, he instilled in himself, he came to the conclusion that giving up on his dream was for the best. Now he’s not sure he can visualize himself as a producer.

“If you change your mind, the opportunity is there.”

○●○●○●○●○●

Your relationship has kept you so busy you can’t remember the last time you went out with Hoseok and Tae to karaoke. You send them a quick text, and they both agree to meet. As per their request, you bring Yoongi and Jungkook along. The more, the merrier.

Hoseok and Tae are waiting when you get there. They’ve already picked a room. The group orders drinks, which quickly creates a buzz in the room. It takes them no less than 20 minutes to get the party going.

While you and Taehyung duet an old 80s song, Hoseok approaches Yoongi. He’d heard about Yoongis’s job offer and wondered if he would take it.

“You said no?” Hoseok repeats, his facial expression clearly surprised.

“Yeah,” Yoongi nods, taking a sip from his drink. He lightly laughs at you and Tae’s terrible rendition.

“Why? I thought it was your dream,” Hoseok asks. He knows what the job entitles. He’s worked at the company for some years now. It’s challenging and frustrating. It’ll drain you of all inspiration faster than you’d think, yet he wouldn’t do anything else in the world. His stunt at the cafe months ago confirmed that.

“It is or was. I don’t know; I feel out of touch. When I went to Blue’s office, there was so much equipment I hadn’t even seen. It’s been a while since I’ve produced too. I write less and less as the years go on,” Yoongi sighs, being honest with Hoseok.

“How about you come to my studio this week? Check it out. I can show you around. It’s not as intimidating as it seems, and I know you’ve got the talent,” Hoseok offers kindly, no strings attached.

In his mind giving Yoongi space from you is good. That way, Yoongi is not pressured to agree with whatever you say or do.

“You’ve never heard anything of mine,” Yoongi rebukes.

“Haven’t I, Gloss?” Hoseok laughs.

Yoongi’s expression is priceless. He left the underground business when he got rejected by your company. He hasn’t been called that in years.

“That’s right, I know my people,” Hoseok laughs. He didn’t recognize him at the cafe, but after you told him about the audition, he did some digging.

“Alright, I’ll go check it out,” Yoongi nods.

Maybe Hoseok was right. Perhaps an hour or two in a neutral studio can inspire or convince him. He doesn’t want to seem ungrateful, but he never envisioned himself working his whole life at the music store.

“Yoongi, come on, it’s our turn,” Jungkook calls over, holding a microphone.

○●○●○●○●○●

Yoongi returns to your apartment the morning after. The smell hits him as he exits the elevator- someone is in heat. He ignores it, but the closer he gets to your door, the harder it is to ignore. Realizing it’s coming from your apartment, he rushes in to find you pacing in the living room in distress.

“What are you doing here while Jungkook is in heat?” Yoongi hisses, staying by the door.

“Thank god you’re here, Yoongi! I don’t know what to do. This hasn’t happened before,” you cry, hugging your boyfriend.

With his arms around you, Yoongi drags you outside, closing the door behind you guys. The more distance between you and Jungkook, the better. If the smell is strong in the hallway, he can’t imagine being inside it. He fears the effect it can have on him if he breathes the scent for too long. It’s not uncommon for a hybrid’s heat to trigger another’s.

“What do you mean this is the first time it happens?” Yoongi asks. Jungkook is a 21-year-old hybrid. He must’ve gotten his heat around 7 or 8 years ago.

“Jungkook usually takes these pills to ease off his heat. He’s been taking them ever since he got his first one. I think he hasn’t been taking them ’cause he’s been spending more time in my apartment.” You try to explain, although you know very little about the subject, despite living with a hybrid for most of your childhood.

Jungkook’s bunny habits are well known in your family, and you’ve learned about hybrids, too, because of him. Heats, though, was always a subject Jungkook kept to himself because he didn’t feel comfortable sharing that part of his life with his sister. When the first one rolled around, it wasn’t so bad, and after your parents offered him the pills, he accepted. Since then, he hasn’t paid much attention to it.

It all makes sense to Yoongi now. The pills you talk about are expensive but highly effective. They basically stop a hybrid from having heat or make them asymptomatic. He’s never had the luxury of taking them, but he’s heard much about them. Enough to know that Jungkook’s heat will be more intense after not having it for so many years.

“This is bad, Blue!” Yoongi tells you, hands on your shoulders.

“What am I going to do? He’s in so much pain and won’t stop sweating and groaning!” You exclaim on the verge of tears.

“There is nothing to do,” Yoongi carefully says, “Pack a bag. We can go to my apartment while he rides this through.”

“There has to be something, Yoongi. I can’t just leave him like that!” You’re upset he would suggest leaving your brother behind in such conditions.

Your worry about Jungkook is blinding you. The gravity of the situation not making sense to you. So Yoongi takes it upon himself to explain, “He’ll be uncomfortable and in pain, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. He’ll survive, and in a few days, he’ll be good as new. Your presence here can make things much worse, Blue.”

“How can you say that? I saw you when you were in heat, and I was with you. I hated seeing you like that. How do you expect me to ignore Jungkook’s pain and pretend it’s not there.” You interrupt him in distress.

“Because the only way he’ll feel relieved is for him to fuck someone. He needs to get off to relieve his temperature and relieve the pain. That’s a heat. And unless someone magically appears and volunteers, there’s nothing you can do,” Yoongi grits out, frustrated at the situation. Jungkook’s strong scent started to fuzz his brain.

“Yoongi! There has to be something….” You say, not believing Yoongi’s words.

He’s getting mad that you’re not listening, and his following words come out rough, “I already told you, have sex with Jungkook or get out.”

“I’m not doing that. He’s my brother!” You and Jungkook might not be related by blood, but you can’t find it in yourself to have sex with him. If you could, you would, but you don’t believe either can get through the mental block. Ruining your relationship with your brother is not in your plans any time soon.

“Adopted brother,” Yoongi points out. You hit him in the arm, angry at his unhelpful responses, which only gets him angrier.

“Fine, get him a hooker. That will get him feeling good in no time. Still, we have to leave.” Yoongi insists, desperate to get out of the building before he gets horny.

“He is not having sex with a stranger. I refuse!”

“Well, that only leaves me, and that’s not happening,” Yoongi replies, crossing his arms.

You pause your argument, thinking it wouldn’t be the most outrageous idea. If someone were to help him, Yoongi would be perfect for it. He’s a hybrid, too, who has had to go through his ruts mostly alone.

“Are you set on that?” You ask with a grimace. You feel bad asking this of Yoongi, but you’re desperate to help Jungkook.

He looks at you in disbelief, “You are not suggesting I have sex with your brother?”

“Yoongi, just help him for now. I know the first day is the worst. Just for today, help him, please.”

“Blue, do you understand what you’re saying?” He understands what you’re saying but is unsure you do. This is a lot, and the worst part is that he’s actually considering it. It must be Jungkook’s pheromones all in the air affecting his.

“Yes, I do. I know this isn’t romantic or anything. You’re only helping him.” you nod, decided.

“Once,” Yoongi grits out, a dead serious look on his face. “I’ll be helping him this once but never again.”

“Okay,” you nod, at a loss for words.

Yoongi shoves his keys in your hands, “Go to my apartment. I’ll get there later with your bag.”

“Thank you, Yoongi.” You speak before walking down the hallway. Before entering the elevator, you look back at Yoongi, who nods at the elevator, urging you to go. He doesn’t want you in the vicinity if he’s doing this.

He takes a minute to himself, gathering the courage to do this. All doubt disappears when he opens the door and breathes in Jungkook’s pheromones. He finds Jungkook’s room and opens the door. The bunny is lying face down in bed naked. His hips rutting into the bed to feel any type of relief. His back glistens with sweat, and his dark hair sticks to his neck.

“Hey, Kook,” Yoongi says, walking to the bed.

“Yoongi?” Jungkook says in a haze, propping himself up on his elbows, but his thrusting doesn’t cease. If he were in his right mind, he’d instantly stop and cover up. He didn’t want to, though. He had to make the pain disappear.

“I’m here to help. Is that okay?” Yoongi asks, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Please,” Jungkook chokes, “It hurts so much.”

“I’ll take care of you,” Yoongi soothes him, a long finger trailing down his back. Reaching the base of his spine Yoongi tugs on the black cottontail. Jungkook whines thrusting harder against the mattress.

“Turn around,” Yoongi softly tells him.

Jungkook shakes his head, “I can’t-“

“If you don’t, then I can’t touch you, and you want me to touch you, right?” Yoongi asks him. Being in heat messes with every thought in your head. It makes hybrids think that even the smallest actions are impossible, and Jungkook suppressing his heat brings him back to step one.

With a groan Jungkook turns his body around, his cock bobs up and down as he settles on his back. Yoongi licks his lips, the bunny is so hard and ready to burst there’s a steady stream of precum coating his head.

Yoongi’s hand slides down Jungkook’s chest, admiring the hard muscle. It continues to trail down his abdomen until it reaches his pelvis. The younger boy’s hips rut, feeling Yoongi’s hands close to his cock.

Jungkook has not stopped moaning once, every little touch sending him waves of painful pleasure. He begs Yoongi to do anything, touch him, fuck him, suck him. Getting more comfortable between Jungkook’s legs, Yoongi starts stroking him. The bunny is hot and heavy in his palm. He spits in his hand for good measure, but it’s barely necessary. His thumb brushes over the dark pink tip, spreading the milky liquid down his shaft.

“Fuck,” Jungkook curses, hand tugging at his hair and hips thrusting into Yoongi’s palm. His abs tense, showcasing the hard muscle underneath. It’s a sight for sore eyes that makes Yoongi’s pants tighten. Yoongi might’ve done this as a favor to you both, but he will enjoy this as much as he can.

“Look at me, Kook,” Yoongi calls the youngest’s attention, “Focus on me.”

The bunny’s hazy stare lands on the cat hybrid on top of him. He is also sweating, feeling the heat of the moment. His feline eyes are calculating, afraid of missing any of Jungkook’s response to his touch. The wet noise Yoongi’s hand makes as he flicks his wrist fills the room along with the bunny’s pleas.

Jungkook tries hard to keep his eyes on Yoongi, but when he feels his peak near, his eyes roll back, and his mouth opens. “That’s it, bunny, cum,” the cat hybrid encourages him, “You’ll feel so much better.”

Jungkook groans, feeling his peak, and it’s like some of the heat has dissipated. Ropes of white paint Yoongi’s hand and Jungkook’s stomach. Raising his hand to his lips, Yoongi licks the bunny’s cum, tasting him. Fuck, did he taste good. It would be a shame for Jungkook to miss it.

Leaning over, Jungkook Yoongi says, “Open your mouth, bunny.”

Jungkook doesn’t understand why but tentatively opens his mouth. Yoongi grabs his cheeks between his thumb and pointer finger and lets his saliva mixed with Jungkook’s cum, drip into the bunny’s mouth.

“Now swallow,” Yoongi orders him.

Jungkook obeys the cat hybrid, swallowing his spit. He never thought his own taste would arouse him and make him hard again in seconds. He blames it on the heat. With his temperature rising, Jungkook grabs Yoongi’s sides and flips them over. He kisses his sister’s boyfriend hard, leaving open-mouthed kisses down his pale neck, leaving a hard bite behind.

“Fuck,” Yoongi moans. He had forgotten that bunnies like to bite.

Jungkook needs to feel him close, touch him, taste him too. He takes off Yoongi’s hoodie and his t-shirt touching the older guy’s chest. He continues to kiss the cat hybrid, even biting his pouty lips. Yoongi lets him be in control for now. Jungkook needs to enjoy himself too.

Jungkook’s hard-on presses against Yoongi’s lower stomach, and feeling the skin-on-skin contact, Jungkook begins to thrust again, moaning into Yoongi’s mouth.

Jungkook is curious, curious about Yoongi and his body. He’s touched and kissed parts of him, but now he wants it all. With a goal in mind, Jungkook’s hand trails down the cat hybrid’s body to palm his length over his pants. Yoongi moans are swallowed by Jungkook, who continues to feverishly kiss him, but when he reaches for his belt, Yoongi stops him.

“Not today, bunny,” he breathes, the grip on Jungkook’s wrist tight, “Today, I get to use you as I please.”

“What?” Jungkook asks, his brown eyes filled with disappointment.

“You heard me,” Yoongi says, sliding out from under him, “Sit up.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Yoongi kneels between his muscular legs.

Jungkook’s cock is equally hard as in the beginning, begging for attention. With a hand on Jungkook’s knee and another on his cock, Yoongi licks a stripe along the vein that runs up the shaft, instantly making Jungkook release a throaty moan.

“Look at me, bunny,” Yoongi purrs, “If you don’t, I’ll stop.”

Jungkook’s head snaps back down to stare at Yoongi, whose wet tongue licks the head of his cock. He coats the entire length with his spit with kisses and licks. Yoongi’s pink lips momentarily wrap around his cockhead as his tongue swirls the tip. He knows he’s teasing the poor bunny. It’s his way of pleasure to see the younger hybrid fall to pieces in splutters and stutters.

Yoongi teases him, going slow and shallow, drawing little whines from Jungkook’s swollen lips. Jungkook tries to push his cock more into Yoongi’s mouth, but the cat already sees it coming and pulls away.

“Yoongi, pl-ease,” Jungkook begs, teary-eyed. By now, he’s long forgotten about pleasing Yoongi as the fever inside of him gets higher.

“What’s that, Kook?” Yoongi feigns innocence, a string of saliva attaching him to Jungkook’s hard cock.

“D-don’t tease,” Jungkook stutters out. He tries to stroke himself in desperate need, only for Yoongi to stop him.

“So impatient,” Yoongi chastises, holding Jungkook’s wrist tightly, “Hands on your sides.”

Jungkook complains at the request, earning a glare from the cat hybrid, “If you’re not going to listen, I’ll leave,” he threatens. He’s just like his sister. For a moment, Yoongi entertains the idea of dominating you both simultaneously. What a treat it would be.

“No, no!” Jungkook exclaims, grabbing fistfuls of the crumpled bedsheets.

Yoongi smirks at the pretty bunny above him. His hair is messy from raking his fingers through it, long floppy ears falling to the sides, and cheeks flushed with arousal. He wants Jungkook to feel all the pleasure he can. While having sex without the rut is nice and fun, there’s something so satisfying about sex while in heat. No matter how small, every touch is amplified and can push you to the edge.

Now that Jungkook is obedient, Yoongi takes his length back into his mouth. He works getting most of Jungkook down his throat, Yoongi’s eyes water, but it doesn’t stop him. Bobbing his head to a steady rhythm, he sucks Jungkook off, his tongue occasionally dipping into the slit of his tip. The bunny is trying his best, the veins running up his arms popping from the tight grip on the bed. When Yoongi takes him deeper than before, the grip loosens as his right hand goes to the base of his cat ears.

Almost instantly, Yoongi purrs around his cock, enticing Jungkook to thrust up. It feels so good it’s overwhelming. With Jungkook pushing on his head Yoongi deep throats him, his nose brushing against the bunny’s base. Yoongi will never admit that while it hurts, he loves the feeling of a big cock down his throat.

With a few more bobs of Yoongi’s head, Jungkook bursts. His cum runs down the cat hybrid’s throat. Yoongi breathes heavily when he releases Jungkook. His eyes are red and watery, as are his nose and mouth. He continues to lightly lick Jungkook, entertained by the way his bunny ears twitch at the feeling.

Yoongi gets up from the floor as Jungkook falls back on the bed. The bunny hybrid is exhausted as his fever goes down to a normal temperature. Yoongi helps him lie back properly and covers him with the wrinkly bedsheet. Before Yoongi leaves the room, he brushes through Jungkook’s hair with his fingers, lightly rubbing the base of his bunny ears. The sleepy bunny makes an appreciative sound as his touch lulls him to sleep completely.

This is the worst of the heat. He should be able to take care of himself from tomorrow onwards. Yoongi leaves the food and water ready for Jungkook by the nightstand. Hopefully, when he’s awake, he’ll feel better.

Yoongi goes to your room to pack your bag. In there, your scent hits him mixed with Jungkook’s pheromones. If the bunnies had driven him mad, yours added to the mix just about ended him.

He lies in your bed by your pillow where your scent is strongest. It only takes him a second to undo his belt and pull his throbbing cock out of his pants. Spitting in his hand Yoongi flicks his wrist quickly, needing a release. He had his reasons for not letting Jungkook touch him, one being that it wouldn’t be fair for the bunny hybrid. He’d been in pain for too long. The other reason was you. He’d happily done this favor for you, but now you had to pay up.

Reaching a moment of clarity, Yoongi slows his pace until he stops right before his release. He stands from the bed, tucking himself in again uncomfortably, and prepares your bag. As soon as he gets to his apartment, he’ll have his way with you, and the pent-up frustration will be worth it.

○●○●○●○●○●

Almost a year into the relationship, you decide it’s time for Yoongi to meet your parents. You organize a nice dinner at your parent’s house, they don’t have to do anything you’ll be the one cooking and setting the table.

Yoongi would get there later, Jungkook as well. You thought it would be nice to have moral support. Unfortunately, you took so long to cook that Yoongi arrived while you were getting ready, which means that your dad got the pleasure of greeting him at the door.

“Ah, if it isn’t Yoongi,” your dad exclaims cheerily, opening the door wider for Yoongi.

“Hello, I got this for you,” Yoongi nervously hands him a bottle of wine. It’s the one you mentioned your dad likes.

“I was hoping it would be the flowers,” your dad jokes, happily taking the wine.

“Is that Yoongi?” A friendly voice calls from the kitchen. Your mom walks out, surprising Yoongi with a warm hug. He hands her the flowers, which she gushes about. “Such a polite boy, don’t be shy. We don’t bite, we’ll except for Jungkookie.”

Yoongi stifles a smile because doesn’t he know it. Not only has he witnessed Jungkook shamelessly biting you when you get distracted, but that day where he needed help with his heat he left Yoongi with a few nasty marks. Marks which you later covered with your own.

“Honey, I’ll be showing Yoongi my office. We’ll be back soon,” your dad says, patting Yoongi on the back.

Yoongi is nervous, terrified even. His cat ears flatten as he follows your dad to his office. He’s only heard good things about him from you, but how reliable is that? Of course, he’s good to you and Jungkook, his kids. Yoongi is a stranger.

Yoongi sits in one of the chair desks awkwardly, looking around the room. Your dad looks him up and down as if deciding on Yoongi. From looks alone, Yoongi seems like a good man, but he needs to make his concerns known.

“Why are you with my daughter?” He asks straight to the point, his friendly smile disappearing.

“Because I love her,” Yoongi responds as best as he can.

There are a million reasons why he is with you. You’re kind, pretty, intelligent, sexy, talented, honest, and so much more. Despite all the arguments you’ve had you’ve never brought the fact his a hybrid into it. All those qualities led him to love you, the most important reason he is with you.

“It has nothing to do with her job and position in the company? How it may benefit you, Yoongi?” Your dad asks. If he didn’t ask these questions, he wouldn’t be doing his job as a father. The older man needs peace of mind that Yoongi’s intentions are the right ones.

“No. I didn’t even know she worked there till two months ago. By then, I had already fallen in love with her. I wouldn’t take advantage of her that way even if I had known before. Blue is one of the kindest people I’ve had the pleasure of meeting.”

Your father’s tense posture relaxes, and his grin returns, “Good answer. I hope you understand why I had to ask the question. I am only a concerned father.”

“I do. Can I ask a question myself?”

“Go ahead.”

“You don’t mind that your daughter is dating a hybrid?” Yoongi insecurely asks.

“Not at all. I believe hybrids are equal, if not better, than regular humans. My children have the liberty of dating whoever they please, and I’ll approve as long as they are treated with love and respect.”

Hybrids have a good judge of character, and Yoongi can tell that he is honest and means what he says. Fear aside, he is happy to have had this conversation with your dad.

“Daddy, Yoongi?” You call them, walking in the direction of the office.

“In here, sweetheart,” your dad responds.

“Dad, stop questioning Yoongi. It’s time for dinner,” you tell him, shooting Yoongi a reassuring grin.

“I wasn’t questioning, just having a man-to-man conversation,” he says, walking out of the office.

“Mhm,” you say, rolling your eyes. He does this with each boyfriend you’ve brought home.

“Hi, handsome,” you greet Yoongi, holding out your hand for him to take. He dressed up for the occasion, wanting to impress. He succeeded.

“Hey, Blue,” he says, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers. “You look pretty.”

“Thanks,” you peck him on the lips, brushing your thumb on his lips to get rid of the remaining lipstick.

“I heard that!” Your dad screams from the stairs with a laugh.

“Keep walking, old man,” you yell back, shaking your head with a smile.

Dinner was fun, and Yoongi felt like he was with family. Your family was very much like you, kind and accepting. Funny as hell, he smiled or laughed throughout most of the dinner. If he had to guess, he would’ve never known your dad was the CEO of a family company. He was very down to earth.

Not that he doubted, but your parents truly treated Jungkook as their own. The bunny hybrid has all of this family wrapped around his little finger. You grab his hand under the table and smile at him. He smiles back sincerely. He can see himself being part of this family for a long time. It heals the part of his broken heart that he thought was beyond repair.

“Let me go get dessert,” your mom announces, sanding from the table.

“I’ll help,” Yoongi pipes up, following the older lady to the kitchen.

“Now that I’ve got you here, I want to thank you,” your mom says as she cuts the chocolate cake you baked earlier.

“What for?” Yoongi asks, handing her the plates to place the cakes on.

“For helping our Jungkookie out,” she casually mentions.

Yoongi chokes on his own saliva, his mind going straight to him helping Jungkook through his heat. It was a given that it was something to keep to themselves. How close is Jungkook to his mom that he felt it was okay to tell her that Yoongi gave him not only a handjob but a blowjob? Furthermore, how can she be okay with her daughter’s boyfriend handing out favors like that to her son?

“He loves those damn vynils so much, he wouldn’t stop talking about how you gave him two limited edition ones,” she fondly laughs at her son.

“Oh, that. Yeah, no problem,” Yoongi sighs in relief. His spirit had left his body for a moment there.

“Let’s go before they start talking about the company. The dinner table is a no-work conversation zone,” your mom says, ushering Yoongi out of the kitchen as she hears her husband talking about numbers and beats.

○●○●○●○●○●

Tuesday, after dropping off lunch at your office Yoongi wanders to Hoseoks office, taking him up on his offer. He knocks, waiting for his new friend to open the door. Hoseok gives him a small tour of his studio and explains some of the newer equipment’s purposes to adjust Yoongi to the environment. Hoseok was right. This isn’t as intimidating as he’d thought. In fact, once he got the hang of it, inspiration returned to him.

“Go on, try and make a beat,” Hoseok encourages him. He already loves what Yoongi has to offer based on conversations alone. One of the reasons he left the company for a few months was for lack of inspiration. Although talented, none of the other producers offered something that spoke to him.

“I don’t want to take up too much of your time,” Yoongi tells Hoseok, knowing he is imposing on his work schedule.

“I have a meeting now, actually. It should take about two hours. Have fun,” Hoseok says, picking up his jacket from a small sofa off to the corner. Without looking behind him, he leaves Yoongi alone in the studio. Looking at the closed door, Yoongi shrugs and puts on the headphones, working on a melody that has been bothering him for the past two years. Might as well.

Getting the hang of the equipment, he falls deep into a creative flow. He barely notices time go by. The piano notes carry him to new places in his mind as they fall into place in the track. It’s like a dam has been broken down. All he has flowing down at torrential speeds, with no one there to stop him.

A hand on his shoulder makes him jump and tear the headphones from his ears. Heightened senses fail him as Hoseok stands behind him, looking amused at his startled expression.

“The meeting ran late. I thought you’d gone home. Are you okay?” Hoseok asks. His two-hour meeting turned into four. The project’s creators fell into discord about what creative direction they should take it.

“I’m okay. I didn’t notice it had been two hours,” Yoongi says, looking at his watch.

“It be like that sometimes,” Hoseok giggles. He’s found himself in that position before. Music tends to dominate the creator most times. “Want to show me what you got?”

Yoongi nods, turning on the chair to give Hoseok a pair of headphones. Hoseok expected something good but unpolished, considering Yoongi’s time away from producing. The first note of the track proves him wrong. Hoseok does not speak for the duration of the track taking in the masterpiece Yoongi created.

Hoseok is amazed Yoongi managed to inspire him more than most of the producers that work in the company. It’s raw and heartfelt, honest. It comes from a place of experience.

“You did this in four hours?” Hoseok asks, amazed.

“I mean, I’ve had part of the melody for years, but the rest, yeah,” Yoongi says nervously. Does Hoseok think it’s trash?

“It’s phenomenal. You have to consider joining the company!”

“Seriously?”

“Yoongi, you’ve got me feeling more with that track than I have in a good while,” Hoseok confesses.

Hoseok is boosting Yoongi’s confidence and ego. He forgot the effect his music can have on people. It’s addicting.

Someone interrupts them by knocking on the door and peaking their head in. It’s a wolf hybrid Yoongi recognizes. “Namjoon?”

“Hi, Yoongi!” The hybrid smiles widely, fist-bumping him.

“I see you two know each other,” Hoseok says, searching for the hard drive Namjoon came for.

“Yeah, Yoongi sometimes comes to the concerts and helps sell tapes,” Namjoon says.

“Well, his girlfriend recruited you,” Hoseok tells him.

“Blue recruited him?” Yoongi asks, surprised.

“Yeah, she bought one of his tapes from your store and liked what he had to offer,” Hoseok explains, handing Namjoon the hard drive.

“She hunted me down until I said yes,” Namjoon laughs, remembering that moment from months ago.

“Can I ask about the conditions of working here? With us being hybrids and all?” Yoongi asks Namjoon. While Hoseok has helped him so much, he needs the insight of a hybrid who works at the company to fully convince him.

“I can honestly say this job is one of the few that treats their workers equally. So far, I haven’t had a single bad or sketchy situation. If you have an opportunity to join, take it! It’d be nice to have you on the music scene again.”

“Thanks,” Yoongi has much to consider, but the more time he spends here, the more convinced he is.

○●○●○●○●○●

“What would you say if I accepted your dad’s job offer?” Yoongi asks you one night while you are getting ready for bed.

“I’d say I’m thrilled and proud of you, Yoongs,” you grin at him through the mirror.

“You wouldn’t mind working with me?” He says as he walks up behind you, eyes locked on you through the reflection.

“Not at all,” you shake your head, “I know it might seem like too much, but I assure you we won’t see each other so much that it’ll come to that.”

You and Hoseok barely see each other in the office since you mostly work on different projects. While Hoseok is a producer, he is also an artist, so he mainly works on his own stuff. On the other hand, you work for female artists and girl groups.

“I’m more worried about you being sick of me,” he jokes, throwing an arm over your chest to pull you close to him.

“Don’t be. I love you. When I get sick of you will be the day hell freezes over,” you say, looking up at him.

“I want to work on something that will make you proud and won’t make you regret your decision,” he whispers. He wants to be successful for you. You deserve only the best.

“Don’t doubt yourself, Yoongi. No matter what you do, ill be proud of it, even if it’s a kid’s song about tomatoes.” You think there is nothing Yoongi can do to disappoint you.

“I don’t think the parents will appreciate my swearing,” he admits with a laugh, knowing how much he swears.

You laugh along, “Me either. Maybe that will set you apart from the competition. Oh! How about a cursing alphabet?!”

“You’re a genius,” Yoongi fake gasps, making you giggle. He sweetly kisses your cheek, “Let’s go to bed.”

○●○●○●○●○●

Yoongi hires a new employee for the Music Store in a matter of weeks and begins his new job. As you said, he doesn’t get to see you much, if only brief glimpses in the hallway before you get pulled away to a meeting or studio.

With Hoseoks and Namjoon’s help, he quickly gets the hang of everything in the studio. Currently, he’s a producer. He creates music he likes and collaborates with artists who want to use his songs.

It’s been smooth sailing; his supervisors and senior producers are happy with his efficiency and creativity. They often seek him out for input on work of their own. Yoongi couldn’t be happier.

He delves into his work, giving it his all. It’s everything he ever wanted and more. But with that also comes pressure. Pressure to improve and better himself. Like he wants to upstage himself every day, and that takes time.

○●○●○●○●○●

A Saturday morning two months after Yoongi began working at the company, you wake up to your boyfriend sitting at your desk working away.

He can’t hear you, as you call him, because of the massive headphones over his ears. You let the sheets fall off your naked body and walk over to him, sitting on his lap.

“Morning, Blue,” he says, kissing your head and hugging your waist, preventing you from sliding off his lap. Yet his eyes stay trained on the computer.

“Whatcha doing?” You ask, ignoring the computer to kiss his neck.

“Just finishing something up,” he sighs as his grip tightens on your hip.

“I was thinking we could go out today to the countryside, drive around and get some fresh air,” you suggest, brushing his hair away from his eyes. His cat ears flicker on the top of his head with the gesture.

“Give me an hour to finish this?” He asks, looking down at you.

“A kiss first,” you say.

Yoongi rolls his eyes with a smile and leans down to press his lips against yours. You pull him closer by the neck, deepening the kiss. You’ve missed him. Now that he doesn’t work at the store, he doesn’t have as much time to spare.

You see each other every day, mainly in the mornings and late at night when he returns from work. You haven’t said anything about the matter giving him time to adjust to his new job and schedule.

“Alright, one hour,” you say, standing from his lap. Before you walk away, you feel a smack to your butt. “Hey!”

“Couldn’t resist,” Yoongi laughs as you rub your butt cheek to soothe the sting.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” you pout, escaping to the bathroom.

Yoongi quickly got ready one hour later, and you both headed off to the countryside. Yoongi drives your car with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh.

“Is it everything you expected it to be?” You ask Yoongi about his job.

“It’s better than I ever thought, Blue. And I have you to thank,” he says, squeezing your thigh.

“I mean, I only cleared up a misunderstanding. You’re doing all the work, Mr. Genius,” you grin.

Everything you’ve heard about Yoongi has been good. As a company member, it makes you happy that he works there, and as his girlfriend, it makes you proud. Everyone can see how amazing he is, and he’s all yours.

“Tell me, what songs have I heard that you’ve worked on,” he asks you.

The day was yours to enjoy, and you did. You needed this time with Yoongi. You had been so used to spending so much time together that you missed him like crazy.

Yoongi needed this too you are his inspiration, after all.

○●○●○●○●○●

Yoongi taps his foot on the floor of the elevator. The company’s CEO, aka your dad, called him up to his office. He sounded normal on the phone not mad, so maybe it’s just a catch-up?

Still, his survival instincts tell him he’s in trouble and should run. He shoves them to the back of his head as the elevator dings and opens its doors.

The secretary tells him to go on ahead into the office. Your dad is there, ruffling through paperwork and signing documents.

“Yoongi, you’re here, good!”

“Is everything alright?” Yoongi asks, sitting on the edge of the seat.

“Yes and no,” he says, folding his hands on the desk.

“Oh?” Yoongi simply responds over the knot in his throat.

“Relax, Yoongi, it’s nothing too bad,” the man reassures him,” I really like that track you submitted, as did many of the artists.”

“Really?” Yoongi says with a small smile.

“Yes, the problem is no one has managed to capture it as well as you,” the CEO explains.

“I’m sorry. Should I continue working on it? Submit a new track?” Yoongi’s insecurity causes him to ramble and miss the CEO’s point.

“No, Yoongi. I was actually thinking of you performing them,” he explains.

“But I’m not an artist; I’m a producer.”

“That’s true, but there’s one step more to become an artist, only if you’d like that,” the man says, offering Yoongi what most would believe is a promotion.

“You want me to be an artist?” Yoongi questions, did he hear right?

“Yes, much like Hoseok or Namjoon. You already have this track, and I know you’ve been working on others with those you can create an album,” the man suggests encouragingly. “What do you say?”

“What if people don’t like me?” Yoongi wonders.

“We can do a test, arrange for you to open for Hoseok’s show, and get a feel of the vibe,” your dad says.

“I’ll do it,” Yoongi nods, “Thank you, sir.”

○●○●○●○●○●

Depending on who you ask, the CEO’s decision was both good and bad. For Yoongi, it’s a dream come true. After he performed his single in Hoseok’s concert, it was clear that most loved the song and the passion Yoongi brought to the stage. You were in the crowd, cheering him on louder than anyone.

But with great power comes great responsibility. If Yoongi was a workaholic as a producer, he’s even more so as an artist working on his new album. He feels the need to prove a point and create a near-perfect album.

His days and nights are spent at the studio, and whenever he’s not there, he’s also at home working.

You have supported him every step, offering him advice when he asks. You make sure he eats at least two meals a day and sleeps a few hours a day.

As the weeks go by, it’s like your relationship has been on the back burner and is no longer a priority. You let it pass, knowing this is important to Yoongi. He’ll snap out of it soon enough.

As five o’clock comes around one Friday night, you go to Yoongis studio. You both get off work at the same time maybe you could go home together as well. Yoongi has been staying till nearly midnight in the studio this whole week and leaving home stupidly early. The only indication that he slept with you being the kisses on the forehead he gives you when he gets home.

You knock on the door in case he is in a meeting, but his voice lets you know you can go in. He’s slouched in his rolling chair as a beat replays on the speakers.

“You okay, Yoongs?” You ask, having the feeling that he’s not.

“Frustrated,” he says pointedly over the music.

Coming up behind him, you hug him as best you can. He grabs one of your arms around him and kisses the back of your hand.

“Take a break from it,” you say, “Let’s go home. You can come back Monday.”

“I can’t, Blue. I’m so close to finishing it,” Yoongi responds.

That seems to be his usual excuse nowadays ‘it’s almost done,’ and yet it’s not a lie. Yoongi just has a problem with self-control. As soon as he finishes a track, he starts another one.

Taking a more straightforward approach, you push his chair away from the desk, turning him around to face you. “You’re taking a break, Yoongi.”

“I don’t know, Blue,” he says, unconvinced.

“Yoongi, please,” you beg, sitting on his lap, “I need you,” you whisper in his ear.

Those words alone are enough to get Yoongi fired up. Guilt also seeps into his bones as he knows he’s neglected you a little. It’s been nearly two weeks since you’ve last been together, a rare occurrence. At a certain point in you’re relationship, you had sex every day of the week. He comes to the conclusion he has to pleasure you here and now. He can’t leave his Blue like this for another second.

He grabs the back of your neck and pulls you close to kiss you. The kiss soon turns frantic with wet tongues and harsh bites. Yoongi’s hand leaves your hip as the other caresses one of your thighs. Slowly it stops at your knee and gently forces it apart to trail his hand under your skirt. He first squeezes the inside of your thigh, eliciting a soft moan from your swollen lips. With his index and middle finger, he presses your center over the thin material of your underwear. Yoongi works his fingers around the area, feeling the wetness seep out of you.

“More,” you sigh over his pink lips. Pulling your panties to the side, he traces your outer lips with his fingers making you needier by the second. A series of begs come out of your mouth, urging him to fuck you with his fingers at least. Light as a feather, he touches your sopping center up and down, toying with your clit. Your hips twitch the slightest bit, pleasing him beyond extremes. He loves to see you struggle.

Dragging his index finger down your folds, he pushes his finger in. He groans into your mouth, forgetting how oh-so-tight you are. “Yes, Yoongi, just like that,” you sensually moan as he moves his finger in and out. Soon he adds another finger, and he feels as if his fingers almost suffocate with how tightly your gripping them. “Fuck Blue, such a tight pussy. Will you be able to take my cock?”

“I can do it, Yoongi,” You whine, laying your head on his shoulder. Yoongi scissors his fingers, stretching you out. He can’t wait to be inside of you. His cock becomes rock hard, straining under his tight jeans at the thought of using your pussy. How could he let so much time pass? He’s an idiot.

“You should cum over my fingers first,” he murmurs, using his thumb to rub her clit in fast circles. It’s his goal to make her cum around his fingers first. Feel her walls pulse and tighten even more.

You squirm on top of him, chasing your release. With a few more thrusts of his curling fingers, you become undone. Your body uncontrollably tenses on top of him, your teeth biting at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, causing him to moan. He hates to admit he likes that more than expected.

“Good girl, Blue,” Yoongi tells her, pulling his fingers out of her and spreading them to see the slickness between them. Your eyes watch as he places his fingers in his mouth and sucks them clean.

“Fuck,” you moan out at the erotic sight. You need his cock now. Standing from the uncomfortable chair, you undo the zipper of your skirt and let it fall to the ground, along with your shirt. Next goes your bra and panties, which you throw with your foot in his direction. He is quick to catch them and stuff them in his pocket. It might not be the first time he sees you wholly naked, but what a sight you are. Standing as you came into the world in his studio confidently, you have curves in all the right places and perky tits with pink nipples topping them off.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer,” You say with a wicked grin.

“You’re perfect.” not the first and hopefully not the last time Yoongi grabs his phone and snaps a picture. It doesn’t beat the real deal, but it does get him off whenever you’re not around.

Not wanting to be left behind, Yoongi removes his hoodie and t-shirt in one motion. To tease your needy ass, he takes his time unbuttoning his jeans while keeping his eyes focused on you. You’re biting your lip and playing with one of your nipples as he does. Finally, he eliminates the last layer of clothing, leaving him bare in front of you. You moan at the sight of him. His cock big and thick, a vein running along its length, and his tip almost red. Wetness coats your thighs, your mind plays too many scenarios to comprehend.

Both take rapid steps towards the other and meet in the middle with a searing kiss with tongues twisting together in a dance. You roam your hands over his arms, pecs, and toned stomach. His black tail brushes against your side at the same time. Sneakily you grab his cock in your hands, pumping it a few times. Yoongi gasps, breaking their kiss as you touch his sensitive head, spreading his precum on his length. He leads you to the small leather couch in his office and makes you straddle him. “Are you ready, Blue?” He asks, rubbing his tip back and forth on your slit, getting it wet with your slick.

“Just do it, please,” you beg, touching his shoulders. Yoongi lines his cock with your entrance and slowly pushes you down on him. You feel inch after inch entering you. You missed the feeling of him stretching you out. All you can do is hold onto his strong shoulders and moan.

Yoongi has to concentrate hard on not finishing too soon. The way your warm walls feel around him is excruciatingly good. He takes a moment to compose himself before he begins to slowly and deeply thrust up into you. “That’s it, Blue. Take it all,” he groans.

“Fuck, Yoongi feels so good. I missed you,” you sob into his ear.

The room is humid, with sounds of moans and the slapping of skin. Yoongi picks up the pace, moving your hips to the rhythm he set to fuck harder into you. You bounce on top of him, sweat trailing down your neck and into your chest. Leaning forward, he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and nibbling repeatedly. He swears he can feel you get wetter as it coats his cock and the top of his thighs.

“You’re driving me insane, Blue.” He’s losing control. There is no way he’s lasting much longer. The closer he gets, the more irregular his thrusts become. With his fingers digging into your hips, he shoots his load inside you as you moan at the sensation of being filled. It warms you up, and with his cock still inside you, you feel full and satisfied. You don’t care at the moment you didn’t get to finish, you relish being this close to Yoongi.

Yoongi lays limp under her for a second, eyes scrunched and teeth biting his lower lip. You spread kisses on his jaw and neck, leaving little marks behind that will fade by morning. His skin is sweaty yet delicious as you lick up the column of his neck. Tugging his lip away from his teeth, you softly kiss him, lips slotting together flawlessly.

Being the gentleman he is, Yoongi unexpectedly gets up, wraps your legs around him, and sits you on his desk. He pulls out of you and observes his seed seeping out of your pink pussy. Kneeling on the floor, he then licks up your slit. You cry out from the sudden pleasure and sink your fingers in his hair, causing him to purr. Locking eyes with you, he pushes his tongue into you, tasting a mix of you and him. He rubs your clit as he licks until you can barely speak.

“O-oh my g-god, kitty,” you mewl, tilting your head back and propping yourself up with a hand before you collapse on the control panel.

The way your body reacts assures Yoongi you’re close. Speeding up his movements, his lips wrap around your clit and suck. Finally, as you climax, he bites down gently on your bundle of nerves amplifying whatever you were feeling before. With toes curled and no control of your body, you push Yoongi away before you pass out from the pleasure.

Coming down from your high, you look at Yoongi and begin laughing, “That was fucking great.”

“I had to make up for lost time,” Yoongi chuckles, standing between your legs and hugging you.

“Let’s go home?” You plead with your eyes.

“Let’s go home, Blue,” he says, playing with a strand of your hair.

○●○●○●○●○●

You give your keys to your car to the valet and walk into the fancy restaurant. Your parents had invited you to dinner to catch up, Yoongi was supposed to come but last minute, said he couldn’t because he had a lot going on.

What you hoped was only a phase has become routine. Too many times, Yoongi has canceled on you or stood you up. He sleeps in your apartment but gets home exhausted and barely speaks to you. It’s incredibly frustrating.

You thank the waiter as he pulls your chair out for you and pushes you in. Your parents are already sitting with a glass of wine.

“How are you, honey?” Your mom asks sweetly.

“I’m okay,” you respond, trying to pretend you are okay when in reality, you’re not yourself.

You never wanted to become the girl dependent on her boyfriend. You like to believe you’re not her. Then why is Yoongi’s absence affecting you so much? You’re known at work for your cheery, happy songs, yet all you’ve written for the past few weeks have been sad songs. They are bangers, but not what your artists require.

As soon as you walked in, your mom knew something was off. You’re not carrying yourself as you usually do, your shoulders are slumped, and you’re looking down at the ground as you walk.

“Where’s Yoongi? I thought he was coming.” She asks, immediately knowing the problem.

“He had a lot going on in the studio,” you repeat his excuse, swirling the wine served in your glass.

“I must say he has exceeded all expectations. I expect his album to be a hit,” your dad says excitedly, none the wiser.

“I’m happy to hear that. He’s so worried over it and is overworking himself,” you force a smile, “Just now, Yoongi was saying he was behind on a track.”

“Behind? Yoongi is ahead of schedule. I’ve told him to take a break,” your dad scoffs, looking over the menu.

“What?” You ask, meeting his gaze. All this time, he’s been telling you he’s behind. It’s one of the reasons you haven’t confronted him. You want him to do well, after all.

“At the speed he’s going, we can release his album two months before scheduled,” your dad shrugs.

“Good,” you say dryly.

Immediately after dinner, you rush back into the studio, finding Yoongi still holed up there. You slam the door open, startling him. He looks at you up and down, seeing you all dressed up, beautiful.

“How was dinner?” He asks, turning back around to face the screen. Missing your response, he turns back around, “What’s wrong?”

“Two months ahead? What the fuck, Yoongi?” You yell at him, arms crossed over your chest.

“What are you talking about?” He asks, standing from his chair to come closer to you.

With each step he takes forward, you take one back, “Your album. My dad just told me you’re ahead of schedule.”

“Well, yeah, but there is still so much work to do,” Yoongi responds sincerely as if there’s nothing wrong with his confession.

“I’ve let you do as you pleased, thinking you were still adapting, getting used to the industry, but you’ve been holed up in here, ignoring me because you want to?” You ask him, trying to ignore the knot forming in your throat.

“I haven’t been ignoring you,” he shakes his head, trying to reach out to you.

“Yoongi, when was the last time we went on a date? Hell, the last time we had breakfast together?” You ask him, knowing it’s been far too long.

Yoongi stays silent, confirming your thoughts. He hadn’t realized how much time had passed since he was hired.

“Exactly, I can’t even remember when we had a proper conversation that wasn’t about work,” you say, frowning. You tried to ignore all the red flags but no more. This isn’t good for you or him.

“Blue, you don’t understand,” he begins saying.

“What the fuck did you just say?” You yell as your fists clench at your sides, “Min Yoongi, I’ve been working here for far longer than you have, and I have never once made you a second priority. I’ve always made time for you and checked up on you. My life is not my job; it’s only part of it. I understand this is your dream, and I want it for you so badly, Yoongi. I’ve been rooting for you all this time, and I still am. But I didn’t know that in achieving your dream, you would give me up. I want you to succeed, and I want to be by your side when you do. I want to be there for you in your new life, in your ups and downs. I want to be a part of us. But if you can’t commit to me, if you don’t let me be there for you, then what are we even doing?” Your eyes are welled with tears when you finish speaking. You refuse to let them fall.

You stand there vulnerable, letting Yoongi into your thoughts, and all he says is, “This is what I’ve always wanted, Blue.”

This. Not Us. Yoongi doesn’t want you that much is clear.

You don’t have any more fight in you. You’re tired of waiting on him. If he doesn’t want you, why stay?

“If you let me walk out, I’m not coming back.”

You turn around, walking toward the door. Yoongi stays quiet through it all. He thinks this is for the best. You are right, he’s been neglecting you. It’s not fair for either of you. He hates seeing you go, he loves you with all he has, but this is his one chance. The only opportunity to make everything right.

You beg for him in your head to call out your name. All you want is for Yoongi to stop you and make you stay. You could go home together and forget all of this happened. It’s Yoongi’s choice, and he chose to see you close the door behind you.

To think tomorrow was your first anniversary.

END OF PART 1

PART 2 COMING SOON

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