#“’I love you it’s ruining my life’ suits him rather well

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XXX)

Chapter 30: ‘You liked me well enough in black; I make you a gift of these objects’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! Some shopping for our lovebirds that turns into Andrew fighting for his life…

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

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Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 3322

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Here are my black clothes

I think now it is better to love no one than to love you. Here are my black clothes, the tired nightgowns and robes fraying in many places. Why should they hand useless as though I were going naked? You liked me well enough in black; I make you a gift of these objects. You will want to touch them with your mouth, run your fingers through the thin tender underthings and I will not need them in my new life.

Louise Glück, The First Five Book of Poems

The tailor was posh but undoubtedly talented. Then again, it was a tailor, posh was to be expected.

It was the old type of tailor, the one you saw in movies, the type that hid a secret passage to the secret service. Wooden walls covered with wooden shelves and clothes, wooden tiles on the floor, large corduroy armchairs. You walked in feeling like you didn’t belong there, like you should never have come in the first place.

Frank spotted you instantly when you walked in. You hadn’t seen each other in a few weeks, there were times when you missed him. There were times when you didn’t think of him at all… what a strange feeling… he was always in your thoughts for years…

You wished Andrew was there with you. You wondered if his classes were going well this morning, you wanted to make him a coffee and chat instead of working…

“Y/N!” Frank beamed at you, crossing the room to give you a hug. “I’ve missed you! We’ve spent too long apart!”

“Missed you too. You look well! Are you ready to choose your suit?”

“I’m so nervous,” he admitted with an uncomfortable laugh.

“It’ll be just fine.”

You said hello to Frank’s friends and family members gathered in the shop. Only a few people, including the three best men.

The tailor came in a few minutes later, started taking care of his clients. You remained quiet while the group was splitting its attention between Frank’s suit and his best men’ clothes.

The plan was simple. You had to give him terrible advice. You had to ruin the suit, make him look ridiculous. Something that Sam would hate.

That was the only way to weaken the wedding with today’s activity.

You waited patiently, watched Frank try suits on. Every piece of garment shattered your heart.

You should have been the one discovering the suit on your wedding day. You should have been the one he talked about now, asking if you would like that colour on him, hoping you would find him handsome.

He was. He was handsome. So fucking much. You wanted to shout, to claw your eyes out of their sockets with the pain of it. He was so handsome, and you should have never been here. Instead of seeing him try on all these suits, you should have been the bride hiding her dress from him. But you weren’t. You were just the friend he was turning his attention to now, asking for an advice.

And you couldn’t do it. Couldn’t ruin this for him. You were too kind-hearted for that, or perhaps, you were simply too much in pain.

You struggled to put a smile on your face.

“I think navy blue is better than green on you.”

“You think?” he asked, looking at the two shades.

“It matches your eyes better. Makes them pop.”

He smiled, bright and excited.

Had he ever smiled like this thinking of your wedding? Of marrying you?

“Thank you, Y/N. You’re always right with those things.”

“Because I pay attention.”

Your answer held more meaning than it seemed, but he didn’t notice. He never did. Not when it was you.

And you wanted revenge now. You wanted him to regret you. You wanted him to see that you were enough, that you were always enough, that Sam wasn’t better than you… even if you didn’t really believe it. Frank had chosen Sam. Andrew had been in love with her, and now that he was starting to move on, it was to be with a woman who wasn’t you.

You excused yourself, looked for the bathroom. The moment you turned the lock on your door, the tears were let free.

You looked so sad when you came back.

It was almost noon when you stepped in the office, Andrew had been waiting for you to eat his lunch. He didn’t have classes for the rest of the day, and neither did you. He was relieved about it, you clearly needed some help.

“How did it go?” he asked as you closed the door behind you.

You didn’t answer at first, instead you took the time to take off your coat, let yourself fall in your office chair and throw your head back towards the ceiling. You let out a dramatic moan, Andrew chuckled at the sound.

“That bad, huh? Did you make him choose something terrible to wear?”

You didn’t answer.

“Let me guess… you saw him in there, it broke your heart, but you didn’t lie and helped him look stunning for his wedding day.”

“How do you know? That’s exactly what happened.”

“I know you. You’re too kind to do something so mean and selfish. Hiding a few bottles of champagne is one thing, making your ex look like a fool on the most important day of his life is another.”

“I’m so pathetic. I feel so… pathetic…”

“You’re not. You’re just heartbroken.”

“Same bloody thing.”

“What can I do?”

You looked at him then, tears in your eyes and looking so sad… so damn sad…

But then you looked angry instead, wrath burning through your gaze and Andrew shuddered at the sight.

You looked gorgeous like this, despite your eyes reddened with tears. Fierce was a good look on you, it had always been…

“I’m going to make him regret me so fucking much he’ll beg to get me back.”

He raised an eyebrow, surprised by your determination.

“And how do we do that?”

“By making me look so fucking good he’ll have nightmares about leaving me.”

Andrew’s heart skipped a beat. His words came out in a whisper you didn’t hear.

“You’re always gorgeous, Y/N…”

“We’re going to this party they’re throwing two weeks before the wedding. So… in…”

“Two weeks.”

“Yeah… in two weeks. God, I can’t believe it’s the end of April already. Exams will be back in no time.”

“Don’t mention that…” Andrew winced. “Besides, we’ll have to go through the conference first…”

“Did you have an answer for that by the way?”

Andrew smiled.

“Main speaker on the second day. Forty-minutes presentation.”

“That’s awesome, Andy! Congrats!”

“I’m going to hate every second of it.”

“You’ll be brilliant.”

“We’ll need to rehearse your presentation too.”

“Yes, thank you for helping me.”

“Don’t mention it. We’re a team.”

You exchanged a tender smile, one that reached gratefulness for more than professional support.

“Anyway, I’m going to go shopping after work,” you declared. “I’ll buy the most gorgeous dress for that party. And Frank will be at my fucking feet.”

Andrew chuckled at that.

“Alright, good plan.”

“Actually… can I be insufferable and ask for your help?”

“Pardon me? My help? I don’t know anything about dresses…”

“You’re a man. You know what men like. Actually, you know what? We could go now. Be back before two and work this afternoon.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

“Okay…”

Andrew gathered his things in a hurry, let you babble away while you exited the office. He didn’t mention the way your voice was shaking from time to time, how your eyes still glistened with withheld tears.

He didn’t mention any of it. He merely drove you to the shop you liked.

Andrew didn’t know what to do while you browsed through expensive dresses, selected a few, asked for his opinion. He didn’t really have any. He had no idea what he was supposed to do to make you smile again, to make you happy, to make you feel as beautiful as you truly were…

You walked in a fitting room with five different dresses to try on. There weren’t many people in the shop at this hour, only an old woman with her grand-daughter were looking for a dress for the young woman. The elder lady started chatting casually with Andrew while they both waited in front of the cabins.

“Your girlfriend is looking for a dress for a special occasion?” she asked, and Andrew fiercely blushed.

“Oh… no, she’s not… we’re not… She’s not my girlfriend.”

She gave him a look, one that annoyed him a lot.

“Right… I see…”

Andrew ignored her, her grand-daughter showing her a dress the perfect excuse not to answer.

And then he heard you calling his name in a quiet voice…

His heart didn’t just skip a few beats, it stopped altogether. Butterflies didn’t cut it, these were fireworks in his stomach.

You were standing there in an emerald dress that fell across your calves, a low cut on your cleavage that made his wildest fantasies about you seem mild.

“What do you think? I like this one.”

You turned around to show him the back, or rather, the absence of clothing on the backless dress.

Andrew couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think…

You were so… so…

“How do I look?”

You were so… so…

“…Breathtaking.”

You blinked up at him. And he tried to hide his reaction, but he couldn’t. He must have looked stunned, a deer in headlights, and he couldn’t help it. You were so…

“…Perfect.”

You raised a surprised eyebrow, a shy smile forming on your lips.

He wanted to kiss you so badly. He wanted to touch the skin of your back the dress revealed. He wanted to run his fingers along your cleavage. He wanted to tear that gorgeous dress off you…

He cleared his throat, averted his eyes so he would stop staring at you.

“Yeah… that’s… a good one.”

“I have another I like, hang on.”

He nodded, unable to look at you. He could feel warmth spreading through his body, but he would never survive the humiliation of getting a boner in the middle of a shop because you were trying dresses on…

“Not your girlfriend, huh?”

Andrew turned to the stranger, the old woman giving him a knowing smile.

“You’d better make her your girlfriend, before it’s too late.”

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

“No, of course not.”

She heaved a sigh, looking at the closed curtain of the fitting room where her grand-daughter had disappeared.

“My husband looked at me like that, you know? The way you look at her. And I can only hope my grand-child will find someone who will look at her like that, too.”

“Like what?”

“Like she is the most beautiful thing on this earth.”

She stared right into his eyes.

“The way you must be looked at when you are loved.”

Andrew struggled to swallow, looked away, fiercely blushing.

Christ, he was a desperate case. And if a stranger could notice his feelings for you, surely everyone had… what would you say if you noticed? Would you push him away? Would you break his heart?

You walked out of your cabin again, wearing a black dress this time. And Andrew tried to hide it better this time, but you looked divine. It fitted your curves perfectly, it made your body look like sin…

“What about this one?” you asked, turning around, and Andrew hated himself for being unable to stop himself from staring at your arse.

“Yeah… that’s a good one too,” he nodded, clearing his throat.

“Which one do you prefer?”

“I… I don’t know…”

“Come on! I like both. I don’t know which one to pick. What’s your favourite?”

He struggled to control his breathing, to slow down his heart.

“I… erm… I really liked the green one.”

“The green one?”

“Yeah, it… you’re gorgeous in this dress too though.”

He heard you clearing your throat too.

“Right… the green dress it is, then.”

“Yeah… okay… grand… erm, like… good…”

“Thanks, Andy.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Christ, please, don’t mention it…

“I’ll get changed real quick.”

He hummed as he nodded, still unable to look at you.

By his side, the elderly lady chuckled, and Andrew wanted to dissolve into nothing, a puddle on the ground, to simply be atomised into thin air…

You bought the dress, Andrew drove you back to Trinity in relative silence. He was too busy picturing you in these dresses again, too busy trying not to picture you in these dresses again.

When you walked back to your office though, it was obvious that you were still sad. That search for a semblance of power over a situation you couldn’t control was gone again. He let out a long exhale through his nose as he looked at you sitting behind your desk. He crossed the room, avoiding the lamp hanging from the ceiling, and gave you a soft smile.

“You’re alright, Y/N?”

You shook your head.

“I’m sorry… I just… I can’t get over it.”

“It’s okay. You’re upset, that’s all.”

“Seeing him like this… wearing these suits… he should have been wearing them for me…”

“I know. I know, Y/N.”

“I want my life back.”

“But you have one. You have one now. You don’t need him in it.”

“I feel like I need him. I feel like I… like I just messed everything up.”

“You didn’t. You didn’t mess anything up. None of this is your fault.”

“If he chose her, then I must be lacking something…”

“You’re not. Trust me, you’re not lacking anything. It’s his loss if he can’t see what’s right in front of him.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the sudden harshness of his tone.

“You don’t need him, Y/N… you… you could have better than him. You… he’s not… He’s not even paying attention to you.”

“What do you mean?”

“He doesn’t really care. I think he’s a little too selfish for that.”

He shook his head.

“I see you with him, you know? You’re not yourself. You’re not… babbling away about cinema, or literature, or art or this recipe you’ve just tried or… it’s like you just shut down. And you listen, and then you make a tiny summary of all the things you wanted to say… but you’re so fucking smart. You’re so fucking interesting. You’re… you shouldn’t be with someone who doesn’t care about what you have to say. And he fucking broke your heart! Why do you still want him? Why…?”

Why do you still want him, instead of me?

But he didn’t say it. He stopped, and closed his fists tightly.

Andrew was growing annoyed, angry even. And of course you noticed, he reckoned he was doing a pretty bad job at hiding his true feelings.

“Y/N… Frank… I’m not saying he’s a bad person, but…”

“But?”

“But he doesn’t deserve you.”

You raised an eyebrow, visibly unimpressed.

“Really? Why not? It’s not like I’m anything special, anyway.”

Andrew frowned hard.

“Are you listening to yourself?!” he asked with something aghast in his voice, a genuine incomprehension that surprised you. “You’re… you’re amazing. You deserve so much better than him! You deserve to be treated with respect, to have someone who actually pays attention to you, who cares about you, who listens to you when you’re talking about your passions, who’s not going to disregard what you’re saying simply because they disagree…”

But you interrupted him with a scoff.

“Perfection doesn’t exist, Andy. I’ve learned as much in life. I don’t have a choice but to settle for less than that.”

“There’s a difference between accepting someone’s faults and flaws and setting the bar so low it’s actually buried underground…”

“You’re one to talk! You’re still in love with Samantha despite how she hurt you, despite the fact that she doesn’t give two shites about your poetry or your work, about the fact that she won’t make a single fucking effort for you…”

“Who says I’m still in love with her?”

You raised a surprised eyebrow, and you were genuinely taken aback this time, Andrew could tell.

“You’re not?” you asked, your tone quieter, Andrew guessed that it was a side-effect of your surprise.

“No, I’m not. I’ve learnt my lesson. I want to move on. I… I’m moving on.”

“Wow… that’s… good… That’s really grand, Andy. Is it… because of that woman you mentioned?”

Andrew’s heart sped up, he could feel himself panicking, he closed and opened his fists multiple times in an attempt to slow down his breathing.

“I… I mean… kind of…”

“Kind of?”

“I…”

He took a deep breath, gathering his courage.

“I want to be with her. I… I just… I haven’t told her yet.”

“Why not? You should ask her on a date.”

But he shook his head.

“She won’t say yes. I know her, she won’t go on a date with me, not for now. Besides… It’s too soon… for me too, I mean. I need to put Sam behind me for good, before I can try to be with her.”

You stared at him with a blank expression… or rather, not blank. The opposite. Like you felt something but tried to show the opposite reaction. The result was unreadable to him.

“I’m glad you’re moving on.”

But your tone was flat, and you didn’t seem happy at all.

“Thanks,” Andrew answered anyway.

You heaved a tired sigh.

“Please, don’t judge me with Frank. I… you don’t understand.”

Andrew sighed too, let the air out through gritted teeth.

“No, you’re right. I don’t understand. I mean… I do. I do understand the process of grieving for a life that wasn’t fully yours to begin with, but you thought would belong to you. But that’s the thing, Y/N. You need to start grieving now. You can’t remain stuck there forever. You… You deserve to be happy. You deserve better than that. Don’t do that to yourself. Especially not for someone like him. We deserve better than this, Y/N.”

You stared at him now, tears in your eyes, a sight he wished he could banish forever. He would take all of your pain away if he could, he would suffer it in your stead.

“It’s not that easy, Andy,” you shook your head, taking a step back.

“It could be. It could be, Y/N…”

“I’ve loved him for so long…”

Andrew slowly nodded.

“You could love again, with a little bit of time. He… he doesn’t care about you, Y/N. He doesn’t… listen when you talk. He acts like he does, but he doesn’t. He’s not interested in what makes you happy…”

“Neither is Sam with you.”

“I know. I know, and I don’t want that anymore.”

“But I want Frank.”

Your voice was shaking, it didn’t sound either earnest nor convincing. Still, hearing the words broke Andrew’s heart.

After everything… how could you still want Frank… why couldn’t you want him instead?

Could you… could you ever want him?

Andrew closed his fists tightly, until he could feel the sharp pain of his nails digging crescent marks into his palm. Perhaps you would never want him. Maybe it wasn’t just about Frank, maybe it was about him… maybe he was simply… not your type, not attractive to you, not good enough.

He let out a long, painful exhale through his nose.

“Would that make you happy?” he genuinely asked, voice quiet, deeper than usual, but softer than before as well. “Is that what will make you happy?”

You stared at him for a moment, then clenched your jaw. When you answered, he couldn’t read in your eyes whether or not you were telling the truth. Maybe you were lying… against all odds, he hoped you were lying.

“Yes.”

One word, breathed out, it was enough to break his heart.

Slowly, Andrew nodded.

“Alright, we’ll do it then. We’ll go to that stupid party. We’ll make him jealous. We’ll make him see what he’s losing by choosing Sam over you. If it’s what it takes for you to be happy… As long as it makes you happy.”

“Thank you.”

He stared at you as you walked back to your desk, sat before your computer, looked at the screen.

He turned around, blinking tears away, stood in front of the window behind his desk.

As long as it would make you happy…

[cherry-pop-elf]

Birthday Boys

It’s Fred and George’s birthday, and you wanted to give them something very special. It’s hard to give them something like that, but you are married to them for a reason. As if they would ever settle for someone boring, now would they?

Warnings: 18+, Double Penetration (A and V), teasing, breeding, overstimulation, dirty talk, birthday suits ((hehe)) lipstick kink(?) and of course Fred Lives. Because I said so ((George still missing an ear tho! Bleh-!))

“Well what’s this?” George would blink, as a paper airplane would land itself on his desk. Fred would raise a brow, as he set down the ink he had grabbed for his younger twin. It’s April First. The ever busiest day of the year, and their birthday as well. That meant they were swamped with work, and just trying to finish the day. The shop may be closed, now, but damn they were still drowning.

“Don’t just stare at it, open it up-!” Fred would bonk the younger twin, with his wand, making him fix at his hair. He would give a grumble, as he unfolded the neat little parchment. By the hand writing alone, he knew it was from you. What was written made him a bit flushed in the cheeks. Always was the more emotional of the two, so Fred was quick to look over his shoulder. Reading along.

To my special Birthday Boys. You two have been working so hard all day. Such a wonderful occasion deserves a present, doesn’t it? I better expect you to leave paper work for later, and hurry up to our bedroom. It gets rather chilly being all alone. I don’t want your present to get cold either. Not when I worked so hard to wrap it all up so nicely in purples and oranges. If you don’t want it, I’ll be more than happy to make use of it all myself. Sincerely yours~!

Never had they side alone aparated so fast in their life. Gave you quite the startle, to suddenly see them. You should have figured they wouldn’t waste time, but boy they move fast. Even after all these years together, it catches you by surprise. Though, this time they were the ones with wide eyes this time around.

There you were, in the middle of the bed, dressed to the nines. A array of orange, and purple, fabric against your skin. Stockings of lace. Done up so pretty to mimic that of a fire work, with little dots all around. The fingerless arm length gloves had to be, as to help bring focus to how bare the rest of you were. Nothing else to your skin, but your own birthday suit. Besides so heavy makeup, because you knew they loved it when it got all ruined. What really sold it was the bows all over you. Around your thighs, wrists, neck, just for the comical effect of a birthday present. Hey, it’s April Fools. Gotta get silly.

“H-“ Before you could get a single syllable out, they were on you. Like starving dogs. Clothes were flying, and your body was quick to be sandwiched between the two men. Your neck attacked in kisses, and their ever rough hands trailing your skin. Tracing all the invisible lines they had tracked on you.

“Guess you like the surprise-?” You joked, as you were leaning yourself against Fred. While George was enjoying your front. Sucking plenty of hickies on your skin, while Fred was enjoying playing with your nipples. Had you squeak, and flush, as he was enjoying the happily given toy.

“Taking that as a yes-“ You sighed, as you were just a meal for the wolves. Wolves that always had your flavor of flesh in mind. It just felt so good to be so desired. To be wanted so badly, it could hurt. Especially after such an exhausting day, they needed to get that pent up steam out.

“Been thinking about you all day long-“ George would sigh, as he stole your lips into his own. Happily allowing your lipstick to stain his own, while your hips rubbed onto the building hard on in Fred’s lap. Just a tangle of wild limbs, and you couldn’t have loved anything more.

“Come on, save some for me. Give em here-“ And you would be stolen by Fred next. Making sure he got his lips stained all the same. George didn’t complain, as he would let the lipstick residue trail over your exposured chest. Designing you, as Fred let his tongue do any talking he had left.

You enjoyed the sensual, and slow, pace. Made you fall into the mood far easier. But, you knew why they were being so gentle. Gentle starts always ended with you drooling and utterly delirious. They were going to destroy you, to your core, and that had you so hopeful.

“Just look at you.” They breathed, in unison, as you were just a doll in their hands. Your body leaning into Fred’s, with his legs spread to make sure you were comfortable. Meanwhile George was above you, on his knees, and taking in the sight. Just starving for you, while Fred was busy with the bedside table. Making sure to grab some lube, as you realized what you signed up for.

“Don’t say I never treat you.” That had them laugh, at your comment. Sweet little feathery kisses were given to your face, and neck, while the line was passed to each other. Slicking themselves up, before using the residue to make sure you were nice and comfortable. A thank you, for such a wonderful present.

“Wrapped up in such a pretty bow.” Fred sighed, as he stuck two fingers inside of you. That had you bite your lip, before the mimicking motion from George made it slip out. Fred was in your ass, and George was in your core. Able to copy each other’s movements in perfect unison. Some call it disturbing, you call it heaven.

“Damn, wet as hell. Don’t even need lube. We’re so excited to get to be our gift, weren’t you? Isn’t that sweet Fred-?” “Oh the ever sweetest George. We love it when you get excited. Gets us excited.” They echoed each other, while making sure to lather as much as they could. Knowing you would need it, and still remembering to put your needs first. Just gentle motions, as they made sure to cover as much as two fingers could. Teasing away at your sensitive spots, just to make you squirm.

“I can’t wait any more.” “Couldn’t have said it better myself.” And like that, the fingers were removed. You whined at it, which made them smirk. Now, you were feeling them pressed against you. They planned to go in, at the exact same time. It made your heart race. To imagine, being stuffed so quickly.

“How about we-“ But they broke through the tight barrier, and your mind was mush. Not so much from pain, just the over whelming sensation of being so full. To feel your insides grow so tight, as your muscles were being pulled yet pushed at the same time. Was a fluttery experience. Somehow so light, yet couldn’t be heavier.

“Fuck fuck fuck-“ You heard Fred whisper into your ear, while your blurry eyes could make out that George was hardly able to keep his own open. Biting into his stained lip, as to not whimper too early. To last, but damn. You knew he was fighting for his life.

Once they were both fully inside, the three of you just stayed that way. A mixture of wanting to make sure you were adjusted, and them not wanting to end the game so soon. How embarrassing that would be. Least that meant you were being pampered. With heavy breathing, and wet kisses on your skin. A means to help you relax, and it worked.

“Lucky me, I get to be the first one to pump you full. Isn’t that nice of Fred? To let me be the one to pump your little womb full?” That had your face burn. Yeah, you three were trying, but none of you exactly went into to much details on how such a thing would plan out. Given Magic was involved, with everything, isn’t a dumb guess to think these two will somehow knock you up at the same time. Just made you all the more flushed, as Fred would rub over your stomach.

“Don’t worry. When he’s done with you, we will switch. I can’t just waste it all in your ass. I love that cute thing, but I love you being full of out kids more.” Fred moaned, as he finally moved his hips. Just in time with George’s. The feeling of two at once, in different holes. Truly a fuzzy experience.

Your hands found George’s shoulders, while Fred grabbed your legs. Keeping you spread as wide as they could, as they rocked their hips into you. Such perfect calculations to make sure your mind stayed in that blissful fuzz. Was leaving you with your nails into Georges skin.

“Come on, love. You gotta moan louder for me. I’m missing an ear over here. Give me some noise-!” George cackled, as Fred took that as a que to pick up the pace. Your head was rolling itself back, and leaned on Fred’s shoulder. Giving George exactly what he wanted, after all. Louder moans, whimpers, gasps, and plenty of smacking flesh to fill in between.

“So cock drunk, and the night hardly started.” Fred teases, as he bit into your shoulder. Needing to steady himself, but the feeling was too much. George would have agreed, if it were vocal. They were getting sloppy with their movements, and you wouldn’t last long either. Especially since George was now planting sloppy kisses against your lips. Leaving you two a jumble mess of spit and moans.

Hearing their desperate breaths, and whimpers of trying to hold on, it was what brought you over the edge. By proxy, your tightening grip in your body had them gasp. Their hips stuttering, as they came inside of you. Throbbing, and having a shake in their system.

Riding it out was such a warm feeling. Felt like everything was on fire, in all the best ways. Already so exhausted, and ready to just sleep, but….They weren’t making any April fools joke with you. Just as your eyes closed, they moved.

You have a squeak, before a breathy moan, as they pulled out. Left such a mess between all your legs, before you were flipped around. Your hands now on Fred’s chest, and ass presented to George. Out right lining up again.

“Perk-A-Boo~!” Fred teases, as he poked your nose. Just as you wiggled it, they thrusted right back into you. The stimulation of being restuffed was mind melting. Right after your high, and with so much already running down your legs. The sounds of all made were so loud, and wet. Was utterly thrilling.

Fred was happy to drink in your moans, hogging as many kisses as he could. Meanwhile George was happily feeling over your hips. Letting those hard working hands trace the lipstick marks shared between them both.

“Don’t do poor Georgie like that, come on. You gotta moan a little louder. His hearing isn’t so good.” Fred would tease, as he forced your chin up. Trying to amplify your desperate sounds. It was all too much. You were going to reach your peak again, with tears running down your face. Smearing away the remains of your makeup.

“Just hang on a little more. I want to make sure I get nice and deep in there.” Fred comforted, as George planted kisses down your back. Making sure your skin was covered in whatever remained of their lips.

Everything was so blurry, but you knew this. You came again, and your insides were coated once more. The ringing in your ears were dancing with the shakey moans of your lovers. So happy, and satisfied, with wrecking you so much.

When you came back to reality, you realized the lingerie you wore was gone. Seems they made sure to give you a sponge bath, before they were knocked out. You between them, as they snuggled you.

Fred behind you, as he held your stomach. Ever a man that loved feeling your ass against him. Meanwhile George was infront of you, tangling your legs together, as he snuck his arms just above Fred’s. His face under your chin, so he could listen to your heart beat.

“Happy birthday, you two.” You whispered, as you made sure they both were kissed on their heads. Freckled smiles crossed their lips, as they snuggled closer. Fred, enjoying his nose in your neck, while George gave you a squeeze. Maybe you should gift wrap yourself more often.

[tommydarlings]

Boys? Men! | t.w

pairing: dom!toto x sub!reader

warnings: smut, chocking, blindfolding, inappropriate usage of a tie, spitting, ruined orgasm

w/c: 3k

summary: Dating Toto Wolff right after you broke up with Mick Schumacher is something you can definitely argue about, but you just realised that older man do it way better, especially jealous old man that are rather possessive over what's their's.

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Honestly, you didn’t even wanted to put that black little dress on and drive in that old timer Mercedes with your boyfriend toto to this 'super important' event that he had to attend.

But since you’re his lovely girlfriend, you’ve decided to join your hardworking boyfriend.

And you definitely didn’t regret your choice as soon as you saw Michael Schumacher’s golden retriever son, mick.

You and mick had a tiny bit of… history. You’ve met each other through formula one — since you are actually a pretty well known photographer in the industry — got pretty close friends, hooked up multiple times, kind of acted like you were a couple but never put an actual label on it and then decided that staying normal friends would be the best option.

And none of you cared about the fact that the two of you got some history… not until you started dating his boss — right before he joined Mercedes—, Toto Wolff.

Was it maybe a tiny bit bold? Yes. Did you care what others had to say about it? No, not one bit. You didn’t even think about it that much.

But what you definitely do think about is walking up to mick now and starting a harmless conversation with him, tilting your head to the side before you set your champagne glass down and leaned into Toto’s touch,

“I'm gonna be right back, darling.” You mumbled into his ear after he bend down to hear you better.

He briefly stopped taking with some random, old dude you’ve never seen before, putting his attention onto you now. “Where are you going, Schatzi?” He asked you, furrowing his brows.

You cleared your throat, “I-I’m just gonna have a quick chat with somebody.” You replied as you looked up at him.

Toto clenched his jaw before he quickly threw his gaze in the big room, eyes scanning the place before they landed on mick on the other side off the room, making his lips turn upwards into a very tiny smirk before he looked down at your figure again, “Alright honey.” Briefly bending down to give you a quick peck before he turned around again and continued his conversation.

You gulped before you made your way over to mick, squeezing through a few people before you finally reached him, smiling at him as soon as he noticed you.

“Y/n, hey!,” mick started as he went in for a big hug, “What are you doing here? Supporting your man?” You nodded at his question, briefly checking him in that neat black and white suit that he’s wearing out before you put your eyes onto his face again.

“Yep, gotta be supportive, right?” You chuckled, slowly making your way over to him and leaned your back against the wall right next to his taller figure, turning your head to look at him.

“You’re here alone?” You asked him curiously.

He sighed as he put his hands into the pockets of his black slacks, “Why would you care?”

His answer suprised you a bit. You knew that the break up was mutual but you also knew that in the end it was always mick how wanted an 'us' more that you did. You gulped again,

“I don’t, I’m just curious mick.”

He briefly shook his head, “Yeah, s-sorry,” he whispered.

You looked up at him, “it’s okay,” you answered.

You removed your gaze from mick and looked across the room to put your eyes on your tall boyfriend standing at the other side of the room, still chatting with that random guy.

Mick briefly grinned before he cleared his throat, “I mean, as long as you love him, everything’s good, right?” He turned to face you again, seeing your grin now, desperately trying to hold a giggle in.

Your ex tilted his head to the side, “what’s so funny?”

Then you just shook your head before you started singing your's and mick's favourite song that you’ve danced to a dozen of times when the two of you were still together.

“As long as you love me,” you suddenly started imitating the backstreet boys's iconic song.

Mick chuckled at your obviously awful attempt to sing the song, “Who you are,” he continued.

“Where you’re from.”

“As looooooong as you loooooooove meereeeeeee.” He dragged out the o's in a rather loud manner, making you lean into his side and laugh into his chest as his head fell on top of yours, both of you squeezing your eyes shut as you just unstoppably laughed at your extremely bad singing voices.

But then, as soon as you opened your eyes, you were only able to see your boyfriend, Toto, spitting daggers your way, tightly holding his champagne glass before you removed your body from mick's warmth again.

You gulped before you looked up at the blond man, “I’m gonna go back to toto again, was very nice to see you tho, mick!” You told him as you slowly made your way over to your visibly angry looking boyfriend.

He nodded and smiled at you, “yep, no problem! See you, y/n!” He kindly answered before you turned around and went to the boss of your ex boyfriend, eyes only staring at the floor.

Toto cleared his throat as soon as you stood in front of him, silently forcing you to look up at him. You briefly bit your lip before you raised your head and looked at him.

“And? How was your little chat with your dear ex boyfriend?” He asked you in a rather mad tone. You rolled your eyes at his tone, making him quickly get a hold of your upper arm, pulling you closer to his body.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me and answer my question,” Toto told you harshly, making you gulp before you spoke up,

“It was good, funny,” you answered, making him grin.

“That’s what I’ve already guessed since you leaned your body so close to his after he told you some stupid joke.” You were only able to bite your inner cheek at his jealous behaviour, desperately having to stop yourself from rolling your eyes again.

“He just told me a joke, what’s your damn problem here?” You asked him in a mad tone, making the men that stood behind him turn around and take a long look at you.

“You’ve got a problem as well, or what?” You asked one of the man that stared at you like you’re an alien, making toto quickly turn around and apologise before he squeezed your upper arm even tighter and pushed your towards the exit of the big building, swiftly opening the car door of his black Mercedes before he basically threw you in the passenger seat, shutting the door in a harsh motion before he got into the drivers seat, starting the engine.

“That hurt, Toto,” you quietly told him. Toto briefly grinned, “That won’t be the only thing that will hurt tonight,” he mumbled very quietly as you furrowed your brows and gulped at his words.

- - -

The air was definitely very thick between the two of you as you entered the big mansion that Toto let you live in ever since you started dating him.

You quickly went to work and removed your black high heels from your feet, putting them aside as you watched Toto’s gaze following every single move of yours while he removed his blazer and loosened his black tie a bit before he pulled it down, keeping it in his hand.

Just when you wanted to make your way upstairs into the bedroom, toto stretched his long arm out and stopped your moving body by your stomach, not even looking at you when he spoke up,

“Where do you think you’re going, little one… huh?” He asked you in a deep tone, hand now slowly gliding up to your throat, gently wrapping it around your soft skin.

You slightly furrowed your brows before you gulped, “Upstairs, to change,” you answered innocently, but Toto’s hand only tightened around your throat, swiftly pulling your visibly tinier figure in front of his taller one, forcing your to look up at him.

Toto grinned at your answer, looking down at you with a gaze that you already knew all to well, pure anger and jealousy.

“You’re going nowhere tonight, baby,” he whispered before he put his big palm onto the back of your neck and forced you to walk with him towards the other side of the room, harshly pressing your body against the wall, immediately burying his nose into the back of your head.

Your formed your hands into fists as his mouth hovered above your ear, warm breath hitting your sensitive skin now.

“I asked you to come to this gala with me just so I could show all of my colleagues and friends what for a pretty little thing I got myself here,” he mumbled quietly into your ear from behind, slowly unbuttoning his black slacks now,

“But instead they saw what a disrespectful little brat I got myself here,” he finished off while you felt him pushing your thong to the side, exposing your wet cunt.

You whined in a high pitched tone as he swiped his long fingers through your pussy after he spit on them to wet them. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as his hand was placed around your throat again, softly squeezing it as he watched your wet pussy, swallowing his finger as he shoved two of them into you.

You gasped as he started to thrust his fingers in and out, thumb caressing the side of your neck as he fucked you knuckles deep from behind, making your legs shake.

You leaned your head forward, forehead now pressed against the white wall, “F-Fuck, please t-toto,” you sniffled as tears formed in your eyes, orgasm already approaching you since you were already quite horny in the car,

“P-Please don’t stop…it f-feels so good, oh my g-god,” you whined in a high pitched tone before you heard toto chuckle at your words.

He briefly kissed the top of your head, “Tell me one logical reason why I should let you come right now, sweetheart,” he demanded in a rather kind tone, fingers only going faster by now.

You gasped as his movements got harder, legs already shaking, “I-I, please, I d-don’t know…but please!” You begged him loudly, not giving a damn if the neighbours hear you.

“You don’t know?” He asked you teasingly.

You shook your head, tears gliding down your heated cheeks, “N-No, I’m so s-sorry toto!” You whined pathetically, squeezing your eyes shut as his fingers suddenly slowed their movements down, making you gasp.

“N-No! P-please toto, I'm sorry-”

“Shut. Up., alright?” He tilted his head to the side as his finger left your begging cunt, legs still shaking from the now ruined orgasm.

With shaking legs you fell onto the hard wooden floor, palms balancing your now visibly weak figure while you sniffled, only noticing in the corner of your with tears filled eye how toto sighed before he bend down and brushed some of your hair out of your face.

Tie still clutched in his hand, Toto looked down into you eyes, slightly smirking as he saw how glassy they actually are.

Then, after calming down a tiny bit, toto stood up again, towering in front of your now kneeling figure as he let his black tie dangle in front of your face — smiling as your small grin fell, fresh tears covering your vision again.

“I don’t think that you deserve to see me, schatzi,” toto mumbled in quiet tone, slowly brushing your messy hair behind your ear before he leaned forward and put the tie around your head, covering your vision with the expansive piece of clothing.

You gasped as he glided his fingertips over your neck and down to your shoulder blades, thumb still drawing unknown figures on your heated skin as he spoke up,

“Get up.”

You gulped at his demanding tone but quickly got up and played with your fingers due the nervousness you were currently feeling. Toto got a hold of your waist then and guided you towards — what you’ve guessed — another room. And your guess was right as soon as he turned your body around, picked you up and placed you onto the cold surface of the kitchen counter.

You bit your lip as he spread your legs, quickly removing your bottom lip from in between your teeth again as you suddenly felt him kissing your stomach, making his way towards your begging pussy which was still extremely wet.

“You know, sweetheart,” Toto began as he kissed his way around your pussy lip but then going up your thighs again,

“I though you wanted someone who’s mature and earns a lot of money and is, well… visibly older than you because you just love being seen as the pretty little girl that got herself the rich old man, the CEO of the Mercedes formula one team, you know?” You only nodded and gulped as his lips got closer to your pussy.

“But then you leave my side and walk over to,” he made a brief pause to use his fingers to spread your pussy lips, fingertip of his pointer finger now gently touching your clit, “this immature, young, almost 'no-name' boy and laugh with him and touch him and stare at him like he’s the love of your life,” he told you quietly before he spit on your clit, letting his spit run down to your entrance.

His fingertips were only teasing your clit now even more, spreading the spit all over your clit and entrance, “that’s pretty pathetic if you ask me, baby,” he mumbled under his breath, fingertips now leaving your wet pussy before he blew some air on your clit, making your legs shake again and gasp.

You swallowed and sniffled at his feather light touches and breath that was hitting your clit at the moment, “O-Oh my god,” you whined loudly, “Please toto, I l-love you,” you gasped again as he leaned forward and gave your clit a peck, “I o-only love a-and want you, y-you know-”

“Do I? Do I really know that?” Fingertips only gently touching your big clit now, teasing it as tears made their way down your red cheeks, some falling down your temple, some landing in your open mouth.

He cleared his throat, “Because if I know that — like you claim I do — then you should know, that you should have never even started this conversation with your ex boyfriend, you know how much I hate seeing you with oth-,” he briefly stopped, tongue touching your clit now as he moaned at your taste, briefly spitting on it again before he ran the tip of his tongue all over your clit, “boy's, because they are no men yet.”

You whined in a high pitched tone as he closed his mouth around your clit, sucking on it and flicking it with the tip of his tongue, basically making you see stars while your tears of pleasure and slight pain were still covering your vision — and the black tie, of course.

Your hands gripped the side of the counter as he shook his head from side to side, tongue not leaving your drenching wet pussy for one single second, making entire body shake and fall slightly forward.

“Toto, c-can I-, fuck! O-Oh my g-god, can I p-please see you a-again, please!” You cried out while he didn’t stop eating your pussy like a starved man, groaning and moaning into it, sending strong vibrations through your begging cunt.

Toto briefly removed his head after sucking on your clit for a few seconds, spreading your legs even further apart, almost forcing your knees to touch your collarbone before he went back in to eat you out, slurping your juice up and lapping onto your clit like his life depends on it, quietly humming a low 'mhh, mhh' into your pussy, basically telling you 'no'.

Obviously, you whined as you heard his answer as a new orgasm approached you, tears already staining the black tie that’s still covering your vision. You gasped before your fingers left the kitchen counter and tangled themselves into his hair, slightly pulling his mouth more and more into your pussy.

He briefly looked up at you, flashing you a quick smirk before he started to flick your poor clit with his tongue at an almost unimaginable pace, making you cry out,

“Can I-I please cum, t-toto…please,” you begged in a high pitched tone as your legs started to shake again, fingers gripping his hair now even tighter as the tears only continued to run down your temple.

“I wanna c-cuuuuum,” you cried out as Toto’s movements got even sloppier, making it even harder for you to hold everything back.

He quickly squeezed your thigh to grab your attention since you're slowly falling into subspace, “Tell me you're mine and mine only and I let you cum,” he mumbled into your pussy before he shook his head from side to side again.

You screamed as you almost choked on your tears as he did that again but quickly focusing on your answer since you really needed to cum.

“I-I am yours, toto,” you took a deep breath before you continued, “I'm all y-yours, and yours o-only…I p-promise!” You almost screamed at the top of your lungs as you felt your entire body starting to shake.

Before you came all over his mouth, you saw him smiling like a proud boyfriend, slowly nodding at your answer, “Then you may cum, pretty girl,” he whispered right before he licked all of your cum up, spitting some of it onto your clit but also swallowing some of it, groaning as he did so.

He kissed his way up your things before he stood up and wiped his lips with the back of his hand, looking down at you.

You sniffled as you tried to calm your shaking legs down but nothing helped, as your boyfriend noticed that, he put his arms around you and put your head on his chest, stroking your head.

“Shh, it’s okay… I’ve got you, I always do, don’t it? I’m yours…just like you’re mine.” He told you in a bit of deeper tone, clearly implying the situation with mick. You looked up at him,

“I love you.”

“Oh baby, I love you too,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

[borathae]

↳ Index [Day 28 - Sounding]

Pairing: Good Boy!Yoongi x Mommy Hard Dom!Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Idol!Yoongi

Kinks: very intense and deep subspace, he is a subby and devoted masochist, hints of enjoying rather rough free use, primal play cause she roughs him up a little and calls him “her prey” hihi, she presses him against the front door and touches him, choking, he also later chokes himself, hair pulling, thigh riding, some very mild CBT with her knee, needy and sloppy making out, she leads him to the bedroom by his tie, oh yeah he is wearing a suit, needy stripping, use of a sensitivity cream, use of a prostate vibrator, male anal play, sounding of his leaky cock, he experiences very intense pleasure, use of a vibrator against the sound, full body squirting orgasms <3, subby boy tears, dirty talk, praise, I just gotta say it again he is in very deep subspace, this is my service Dom dream oh lord, loving aftercare, they’re kinky & in love <3

Wordcount: 5.7k

a/n: click this !nsfw! link if you wanna get a visual. like, i don’t think you guys understand. i’m fucking obsessed with this kink jdfja confession time, i never did it in real life but it looks so fun and i need to do this to a willing subby boy omfg oh lord what the fuckckkckc i need to touch some grass lmaooa

Yoongi in a suit is to die for. Yoongi in a suit tight enough to show off his strong chest and big butt is your official end.

So when he comes home that night, exhausted from an award show and happy to be back with you, you can barely keep your hands to yourself.

Yoongi manages to place the keys down on the dresser and he already has you around him, nuzzling your nose into his neck.

“Hey there superstar, I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

You give him a little nibble, grabbing his butt unapologetically.

“Oh”, he gasps, tensing up. “What are you doing?”

“Just making sure it’s still there.”

He laughs, looking into your eyes deeply. He is amused by you and enjoys what you are doing, it’s obvious in his look.

“Last time I checked, it was still there. Yeah.”

“Mhm, it is. Mhhhhm it really is”, you coo, rubbing his buttocks unapologetically while you press your chest against his’. You slide your grabby hands between his legs and squeeze.

Yoongi squeaks in surprise, getting on his tiptoes and widening his eyes. He even grabs your shoulders, looking completely disoriented for a second.

“That seems to be still there as well. Mhhm how heavy and warm, my darling”, you rasp, massaging his balls rather disrespectfully. He is wearing very tight briefs in order not to have a weird bulging accident in public. They are very tight and very thin and keep his plumb balls right where they’re supposed to be and oh lord, how easy it is to grab them like this.

Yoongi’s knees buckle slightly, his eyelids flutter for just a second.

“Okay, can we- Ahm, ah, ___ this isn’t my butt”, he gets out.

“I’m aware”, you say matter-of-factly and grab his waist, using his moment of total surprise to twirl him and press him against the door.

Yoongi both squeaks and moans, head hitting the wood against his will as you practically keep him hostage.

“Tell me to leave you alone”, you rasp and Yoongi knows that this is you asking for his consent.

“Please don’t leave me alone”, he begs, giving you everything you needed to know.

You hook your hands in the collar of his suit jacket, ripping it off his body like this. His weakened arms flail for a few moments before you have them pinned against the door.

“Holy fuck Yoongi, you ripped your vest”, you gasp, staring at the ruined fabric of his suit vest.

“My back was too big, I-”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence as you practically steal his breath away by pulling him into a kiss by his hair. His head is tilted back like this, his back is arched.

A tremor of shock and pleasure runs through his entire body, his hands desperately reach behind him to grab your wrists. You tug rather harshly on his hair and his poor little heart can only take that much before it implodes. It also isn’t helpful that you have your knee lifted between his legs, applying rather painful pressure on his cock and balls.

He whines into the kisses, throat working oh so hard to swallow all the drool he suddenly produces.

He had a very stressful and long day. The award show was filled with exhausting social interactions, tiring speeches and way too many noises. There was also his constant need to look presentable in fear of being filmed in an unflattering moment and the constant pressure not to do something that could later be regarded as a “scandal”. Yes, that even includes normal human functions like letting out a little yawn or accidentally zoning out on someone’s face. Truly, his day was long and exhausting and he was so excited to come home to you and be himself again.

He didn’t expect such a greeting and quite frankly, it is way too powerful for him. His toes give up on him, forcing him to sit down on your knee and therefore increase the pressure on his balls. The kiss breaks because he lets out a pained moan.

You eat it up with a hungry growl, digging your hand deeper into his luscious locks. Your other hand slides to his waist, bruising it slightly as you begin guiding his body over your thigh.

“Wait please”, he gets out, collapsing into the door, “wait.” His eyes are squeezed shut, his cheeks flushed, “Mommy, wait.”

“How do you expect me to wait when you call me like this? I had to watch you be pretty on stage and I couldn’t do anything about it. Don’t deny me my right to claim you.”

Playing rough is what works for you and him. In the earlier stages of your relationship, when you and he got to know each other’s kinks, you had a long and thorough talk about your dos and don’ts. Playing rough and using the other “whenever” is something you discovered to both like. Honestly, you feel like Yoongi secretly likes it even more than you. He might be whining right now, but his body speaks a different language. He bends and arches it into the most unnatural positions just to get closer to you. His cock is so swollen in his slacks and his balls so plumb against your knee. He gets off on this.

He gets off on the thought that you were practically waiting for him to come home, that he is so desirable to you that you can’t control yourself anymore, that everything you need is him. Yoongi would never admit it, but he loves being desired to the point where you are almost animalistic with him. Sometimes he does something solely to catch your attention and when you react in uncontrollable desire to touch him, Yoongi feels high. A true rush of pleasure however are the moments where he wasn’t trying and you still end up needing him. When those disrespectful, horny touches start, when you are rough with him, when you almost seem to hunt him like prey, Yoongi could honestly climax just from that.

It turns him on so much.

“Mhm Yoongi? Tell me why I should wait”, you stress, digging your fingertips into the back of his neck.

“I don’t know”, Yoongi whines, tilting his head back.

“You don’t know. That’s too bad then”, you hiss, giving him a rough shove.

Yoongi stumbles, arching his back. He mewls, reaching behind himself to pull you into a kiss. You gladly let it happen, shoving your tongue into his mouth and grabbing his chin to keep him pinned. He has to crane his neck like this, feeling his blood pound in his dizzy head. Your grip is so territorial, your kiss so hungry. Yoongi feels like a well-desired price being taken no matter what.

He turns in your possessive hold, hooking his arms behind your head and letting you kiss him as if his taste was your life elixir. He willingly sits down on your knee again, fucking himself needy with sloppy wiggles of his hips. He also willingly lets you claim his throat in an obsessive grip, melting like chocolate in the sun when you apply gentle pressure on his veins. He trusts you with his life, knowing that you are an expert in stealing his breath. Not once did he get the feeling that having your hand around his throat would end badly for him. You know exactly where to hold him, how to choke him, what not to do. This is religious to him. It leaves him vast of air, dizzy and completely at your mercy and he wants to swim in the fuzzy feelings you create in his chest because of it. Granted, he could still breathe because you never apply pressure on his throat, but he still can’t. He holds his breath to kiss you for longer, only fighting for it once his lungs work against his will. And each time he does, you catch your breath as well, tasting every one of his sounds before claiming him again, needier than before.

And soon, oh so very soon, you cannot take it anymore. You abandon his neck for the sole reason of dragging him with you by his tie. You and he kiss sloppily, moaning and groaning into the other’s mouth as you maneuver through your home.

Yoongi gladly lets you drag him around. Quite frankly, you could do whatever you want with him to get him from point A to B. If you decide to drag him around by his hair, he would welcome it gladly. One time, you decided that it was only appropriate to lead him around by his balls and Yoongi had to do everything in his power to not orgasm too soon. He is quite frankly, your devoted, happy puppy who wants to follow you everywhere.

Tonight he really needed it. He needs to follow you into a place of worship, desire and pleasure. It is the only way to leave behind the stressful award show with its stupid rules and social contacts.

His ripped vest leaves him in the hallway. His belt, which was solely decorative, leaves him in front of the bedroom door. His tie gets loosened inside the room and his buttons get messily opened as you push him to the bed. Yoongi feels like a present being unwrapped prematurely, having to work very hard not to climax prematurely himself.

The back of his legs hit the edge. You weakened him so intensely that he collapses with the first contact, falling onto the bed with a squeaky moan. His back hits the mattress, arching off at impact.

You ravish him with needy touches, clawing off his button up shirt and ripping open the fly of his slacks.

A tight compression shirt reveals itself under the button up. His chest and waist look so snatched in it, his nipples protrude through the fabric.

“You wore this underneath all of it?” you gasp.

“I don’t like to go shirtless under button ups”, he whines, writhing in ecstasy when you drag your nails down his chest and stomach.

“I feel like a fucking predator who got its prey. I literally wanna rip you up and eat you.”

“Please”, Yoongi keens, arching his back.

Ever since the beginning, it was clear that he will be the little bunny and you the big bad wolf in your relationship. And he loves it. He dreamed of it for years, thinking to himself that he will never find someone who can actually make him want to submit like this. And then he met you. You are the most wonderful and kind person ever, you are so sweet and loving and so understanding. Yoongi hasn’t laughed like this with anyone ever, he hasn’t felt so safe and so loved. Being your little prey is everything he lives for these days. You make him feel so fucking fulfilled and in return, you feel completely fulfilled yourself.

He is everything you ever dreamed of. He is kind and sweet and unbelievably loving. He makes you laugh and never makes you feel alone. When you aren’t with him, you think of him and when he is with you, you are happy. It has been years and your obsession with him hasn’t shrunk, on the contrary, you love him more and more each day.

“Fuck, I could honestly eat you”, you get out and begin tugging his shirt out of his pants quickly. Yoongi helps you by sitting up and pulling it over his head, dropping into the sheets again afterwards. He stretches his arms over his head, writhing sensually for your viewing pleasure.

He moans loudly when you instantly claim his unmarked skin with your hungry mouth. You kiss and lick him, leaving spots of your devotion wherever he is sensitive. He takes each mark with pride, leaking into his slacks. He becomes more and more yours. Finally he gets to see it as well. He gets to look into the mirror and count each mark of love you left. He gets to trace them and reminisce about how it was to be yours. He is in paradise.

You suck an especially dark hickey right under his belly button.

“Thank you”, he croaks out, unable to keep his feelings hidden any longer.

You let go of him, soothing the pinch with long, deliberate licks.

“Thank you?”

Your hands are on his waist, holding him hostage. You are kneeling on the floor between his legs. Despite your difference in height, it is you who towers over him. At least emotionally. You might be the one looking up at him right now, but there is no ounce of power in Yoongi. He is completely and utterly under you, choking out another “thank you” while his hips roll up against nothing.

“For marking you?”

He nods his head, squirming sensually.

“Fuck. You drive me insane”, you rasp and claim his waist by biting him deeply. Obviously not enough to actually hurt him, but still hard enough to leave a red mark.

Yoongi wails up, twisting the sheets above his head and leaking into his pants so aggressively that he can feel it stick to his skin.

“Mine.” You come up, kissing the tender spot. “All mine. You’re mine.”

“Yours”, he moans, meaning ever single fucking letter of this word. If he could be yours even deeper, he would. Without hesitation. He was independent and a lover for solitude before he met you. Granted, he is still these things, but he is also very clingy and cuddly and obsessed with attention. Yoongi never thought it possible that he could be a lover of such “cheesy” things, but he is. He loves, loves, loves it when you touch him and hold him and make him yours.

You take off his slacks next, dancing your hands up his legs.

“One last chance to stop this”, you tell him, ogling his bulge. His cock practically wants to burst through his briefs.

“I don’t want to stop this, please touch me more”, he begs, lifting his hips.

You take his consent, pulling off his briefs carefully. You throw them to the side, instantly claiming him by marking his thighs as well.

Yoongi mewls, throwing his legs over your shoulders and giving you complete control over them. They are trembling like crazy each time you mark another spot with your love.

Soon you reach his middle and you waste no fucking time. You nuzzle your face into him, inhaling deeply which embarrasses him.

“Don’t do that”, he begs, wanting to go up in flames. You always tell him that you love his scent, but it’s so embarrassing when you smell him like this. His face feels so hot, his stomach is so tight.

You growl and come up for air, meeting his shy gaze. Yoongi has to gulp when he sees the hunger in your eyes.

“If I could, I would bottle your scent so I always have it with me.”

“Stop please”, he begs, closing his legs in embarrassment.

You obviously force them apart again, holding them in a tight grip as you stand up. They slide off your body like this, but still stay in the air as you hold them. You bend them by his knees, slowly forcing them into the sheets beside his body. Yoongi’s ability to breathe gets more and more forgotten the closer to his face you come.

He holds his breath when you are above him. His legs are over your shoulders, his body is bent in half. He is naked, marked and completely vulnerable while you are still completely dressed.

“Don’t be shy, babyboy. You smell like heaven.”

Yoongi pouts and squirms, forcing you to pin him down.

“I want to give you pleasure so good that you will squirt.”

Yoongi gulps. When you don’t continue to speak, he knows that you are waiting for his reaction.

“What do you mean?” he croaks out.

“I want to stimulate your prostate from every possible angle.”

Yoongi whimpers. He truly and honestly whimpers. When he makes noises as such, it is impossible to know that his voice is naturally so deep and raspy.

“You know what that means, don’t you?”

He nods his head, wiggling his feet on your back in excitement.

“You also know that I’m gonna be so careful with you, don’t you?”

He nods his head with more vigour.

“So what it’s gonna be? Yes or yes please?”

Yoongi knows that there is a secret third answer called “no” which he can always, fucking always, voice, but it’s still so hot to him that you make it seem as if he had no choice. That you are going to pleasure him no matter what because he is your little price and you take what you want.

“Yes plase”, he gets out breathily, widening his eyes in a beg.

You seem pleased by his answer, giving him an adoring smile.

“I knew that you would be polite. You’re Mommy’s good boy after all.”

“I am”, he whispers, nodding his head.

“Mhm, you are.”

You straighten up, helping him set down his legs. He knows that distance is necessary, but he still aches when you break away from him. He counts the seconds until you are back, reminiscing about all the times you pleasured him like this.

Sounding. This is what you are going to do to him. Yoongi is no stranger to the kink and he definitely didn’t have it before you. You and he discovered it together one night where you managed to slip your pinky finger into his cock as you jerked him off and Yoongi climaxed so hard from it that he saw stars. You did research together, bought toys and practiced until the kink became a regular thing in your bedroom.

It is so much fun and feels so good to both of you. Quite frankly, you have done it so many times already that he can comfortably take the entire sound which allows you to stimulate his prostate from another angle. Yoongi didn’t even know that he could feel it from his cock and he definitely didn’t think that he could orgasm so fucking hard. But of course you proved him wrong. You are an actual goddess after all.

“Hello, I’m back”, you announce your presence, caressing his knees.

Yoongi looks at you, sighing your name.

“I missed you.”

“Of course you did. You’re a little obsessed”, you tease him, making him giggle shyly.

You giggle with him, studying him from head to toe.

“Now”, you begin and pick up a anal vibrator, “let’s get started.”

“Wait. I didn’t clean out.”

“I think it should be alright. I’ll only stick it in and then keep it there. Is this okay for you?”

“Yeah, just promise to keep it in. I’m embarrassed about the…potential dirt.”

You chuckle, “you’re not dirty. It is really okay not to want it.”

“I do”, he whispers, “please, I want it a lot.”

“Well. Okay then, I don’t know why you’re whining.”

He laughs, scrunching his eyes. You know exactly how to rid him of his nervousness. You snicker and kiss his knee then straighten up to prepare him.

You cover the vibrator in a translucent slick, spreading the rest of it on his hole. You apply a little pressure with your fingers, massaging him.

“Oh wow”, he lets out, melting into a puddle.

“Can you feel it working already?” you ask him.

Yoongi closes his eyes, concentrating on the sensations. Your touch is warm, growing in temperature the longer you rub him. Fuck, why is he getting so sensitive? Wait. He knows what that means. He rips his eyes open, moaning helplessly.

“Now, you figured it out. Just a little something to increase the pleasure. You deserve it”, you say, exchanging your fingers with the vibrator. You work it into his overly sensitive hole carefully. The sensitivity cream you use on him is slippery enough to double as lube so you aren’t worried about tears. You do this on purpose to help the cream work even deeper.

“This is so intense”, he croaks, eyes squeezed shut. He can’t handle it any other way. He has to focus on nothing but the increasing pleasure between his legs. You stretch his hole so gently. It doesn’t hurt at all, despite the head of the vibrator being rather girthy. With his eyes closed, everything he exists for is this sensation. The slow, deliberate prodding of his hole and the increasing depth of the toy; it is everything he breathes for right now. It is both so relaxing and incredibly exciting. Yoongi doesn’t know whether to completely melt or tense every single muscle in his body.

“Can you feel that, darling?”

“Feel what?” he sighs.

“That you’ve been taking the entire toy for the last few moments?”

“What?” he breathes and lifts his head.

Your hand is pressed flat to his ass, a telltale sign that his greedy hole swallowed the entire toy.

“I wasn’t aware”, he croaks, rolling his eyes back and dropping his head. He fucks the air, moaning your name.

You chuckle.

“Now you are”, you say and grip the toy by its round base to wiggle it inside him.

Yoongi reacts in tremors of his body and submissive moans. Now that he is aware of the depth of the toy, he swears it is impossible to handle. The sensitivity cream does its job and makes his insides terribly sensitive to stimulation. He swears that he can feel the toy shift inside him. He needed this so bad and he wasn’t even aware of it.

“Oh god, this feels so good. I needed this”, he chokes out, hole trembling around the toy as you fuck him slowly.

“Of course you did. I saw how you wiggled your butt when you were dancing. You were just asking to have it fucked, weren’t you?”

Yoongi nods his head because what you say is the truth. He did ask for it to be fucked. It is decided.

“Of course you were. I’m so fucking obsessed with you”, you rasp, rewarding him with side to side wiggles.

“God wow”, he arches his back, “the cream is intense. Oh god.”

“Yeah? Do you feel how I fill you out, mhm?”

“Yes, god, yes.”

“You’re so pretty taking me”, you praise, sending trembles through his legs.

“Stop please, I’m close.”

You cease your movements, soaking up the tensing of his stomach and the little mewl he lets out. Your hands roam his marked thighs, eyes totally entranced by his pretty face.

“Shit, that was close. Ah fuck”, he gets out, writhing from side to side.

“I think you’re gonna have a very hard time lasting long”, you snicker.

“I think you’re correct”, he says, making you laugh.

He laughs with you, rubbing his hands over his face.

“Holy fuck, you have me so ruined”, he mewls, dropping into the sheets in total defeat. “Please, just…more…”

“I can grant you this wish.”

Silence overcomes you as you prepare the sound for him. You use normal lube for it, slathering an insane amount on the metal pole. The sounding toy is a thin metal pole with around six inches of length a good finger’s width of girth. It is slightly textured and has a round tip. It isn’t the first sound you used, but the third one. Yoongi can comfortably take it these days, driving you crazy in the process.

You wrap your fingers around his cock, forcing him to twitch.

You laugh, “this already starts well.”

“I didn’t expect it”, he defends himself.

“Mhm, sure. I think you’re sensitive”, you tease.

You connect the toy with his tip, getting him used to it by rubbing circles around his slit. He became leakier ever since you started engaging in this kink together. Especially when he knows that he is going to get his cock quite literally fucked, his pretty dick can’t stop producing the neediest slick.

“Your pretty hole is so wet, babyboy”, you taunt him, giving him a gentle spank with the toy. “it’s practically asking to get fucked.”

“Please”, he begs, feeling dizzy. There is nothing more powerful than your dirty talk.

“Take a deep breath, I’m starting.”

Yoongi obeys, but struggles when you begin pushing the sound into his small hole. His chest rumbles in desperate noises, lifting up and down quickly.

“Are you comfortable?”

He nods his head.

You push deeper, watching in delight how his pretty cockhead swallows the bulbous head of the toy. The worst part is over. You apply pressure around his shaft, keeping your thumb against his thick vein at the underside of his cock. You can feel the toy entering him when you press against it and you use it to your advantage by massaging him wherever the sound currently sits.

“Slower, please slower.”

“Hurts or close?”

“Close. Fuck, really close.”

“Just keep breathing, baby.”

“I’m trying. Oh god, it feels so good.”

You smile. He is so precious. With a fluttering heart, you fill him deeper, guiding your thumb down his cock as the metal toy fills him up more and more. His vein is bulging wherever the toy already sits, his hole is so puffy around the shaft. He is flushed like crazy, constantly leaking new slick. It seems to become more and more the deeper you enter him, almost as if he is trying to make space for you by getting wet.

“One fourth left, babyboy. How are you doing?”

“Aha, yeah, mhm ah”, he lets out, nodding his head. He doesn’t need to say more. It is so obvious to you that he is in paradise.

You would be correct with your assumption. Yoongi is so far gone, existing only for the pleasure. Now, he has to be honest, getting his cock penetrated is intense. It stretches a hole which wasn’t meant to be stretched and fills insides which were never meant to be filled. It doesn’t hurt, but it is also isn’t entirely comfortable. It is intense and addicting and you do it so well that he feels far away.

There is sudden pressure deep in his body. Yoongi can describe it as a mixture of having the intense urge to pee and someone pressing a finger against his prostate at the same time. He knows that it is because you reached the end of his cock, now pressing the sound right against his prostate. One wrong move and it would hurt, but you know what you are doing.

Because the toy is so deep inside him, it can stay at the right spot without having to be held. You run your hand up his cock, picking it up to jerk it off.

“Mommy, holy fuck”, he presses out, following it up with a guttural moan and his hips lifting off the sheets. The handjob moves his cock over the toy, sending constant pleasure through his shaft. It is indescribable. When his cock is stuffed, he can feel orgasmic pleasure in his entire cock and balls. When you give him a normal handjob, it only feels orgasmic on his tip, but with the sound deep inside him, every inch is sensitive.

Yoongi is restless on the sheets, moaning from the bottom of his heart.

“Yeah, holy fuck. You look so pretty, it’s insane”, you agree, voice raspy in desire. You put your other hand on his balls, pressing your thumb against where you can feel the sound inside him. You draw circles on the spot, focusing your handjob on his tip for now.

“Stop! I’m gonna cum, stop it please.”

You wrap your fingers around his base, rubbing your other hand on his thigh.

“Breathe baby, breathe.”

Yoongi obeys shakily, burying his own hands in his hair.

“What the fuck is wrong with me tonight? Holy fuck, I feel like a fucking virgin.”

“That’s hot. Holy hell, you say the sexiest stuff.”

You pick up a slow rhythm, having to stop it again when he flinches and begs you for a break. You let him breathe through it, holding his cock.

“I can’t, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m so sensitive.”

“That’s alright. Just say the word and I’ll make all of this stop. You can get what you want most.” You rub his balls, tracing the sound deep inside him. “It’s gonna be intense though, I can’t promise you that you won’t see stars.”

“Please”, Yoongi writhes as he willingly sacrifices himself to your enchanting touch.

“Please release me or please stop? Use your words, babyboy.”

“Please Mommy, make it stop.”

“Make it stop. I understand. Hold your cock for a moment.”

Yoongi obeys, following you with droopy eyes as you seem to get a third toy. You are hidden behind a blurry veil of unspilled tears and drugged senses.

Suddenly there are vibrations. Deep, deep in his ass and right against his prostate. Yoongi curls up as if he was punched in the gut, moaning the same way too. The tears escape his eyes and you disappear behind even more blurriness as he loses the ability to focus his eyes.

He is glad that you replace his hand around his cock. His muscles are too weak, working only to bring his shaky hand to his own throat. He chokes himself, lost to the pleasure and so far away. The only thing clear is the electricity inside his stomach and your voice as you talk to him.

“That’s my boy. Choke yourself for me.”

Another buzzing joins the one of the prostate vibrator. Seconds later, he feels unbearable pleasure in his entire cock as you press a wand vibrator against the metal sound. The vibrations go down the entire rod, forcing the round tip to shake against his prostate. You intensify it by running your unoccupied hand up and down his balls and cock, forcing the toy to shift and move inside him.

You promised him relief, but this is insanity. You never did that before. You sounded him, used a prostate toy but not like this. Not with vibrations and at the same time.

Yoongi isn’t a very loud person. Even in bed he is on the more quiet site. You get purrs and whines and moans, but they never go past a certain volume. Yoongi is a quiet and reserved person or so he thought.

Because right now, you are making him genuinely scream. He never did that before, hell, he didn’t even think that he had it in him, but he has to. The orgasm you make him experience takes over his entire fucking body. It never felt like this before. It shouldn’t even be possible to feel like this, but it does and he has to scream because of it.

He cums all over the rod, throbbing and convulsing with such intensity that he manages to squeeze it out of himself all by his own. It glides against the wand, shaking because of the vibrations which only makes it more intense. The last inch hurts as the round head slips past his swollen slit. The relief is instant. Clear liquid squirts everywhere, ruining not only the sheets but his body as well.

“Yes baby, squirt for me. That’s it”, you talk him through it, helping him ride out his most intense orgasm ever by jerking off his empty cock and pressing the wand against his overly sensitive tip.

It is not a surprise that Yoongi begs you to stop once his orgasm dies down. You didn’t expect him to go again, not after what you just witnessed. You turn off the vibrators and instantly scoop him up on your arms, holding him safely as he twitches helplessly.

“I’m right here, baby. I’m right here”, you whisper to him, playing with his hair and rubbing his shaking back.

“What did you do to me? Oh god I can’t stop shaking”, he gets out, sobbing quietly as the intense afterglow overwhelms him.

“Shhh it’s okay, darling. I’m right here. Let it happen, I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

Yoongi seeks your embrace, cuddling so close to you it feels as if he is trying to merge with you. He can’t talk a lot at first, recovering with little noises and shaky breaths. You let it happen, holding him until he feels ready to face you.

And oh, how he faces you, how he looks up at you as if you were his fucking everything. His wet eyes let you know that he cried, his cheeks and nose are still flushed, his once neat makeup is smeared and messy.

You give him a smile, caressing his cheek tenderly.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me, but please don’t ever stop”, he whispers, voice shaky in emotion.

“Did you like it that much?”

He nods his head, “you just made me fucking scream. I, I never screamed before. I felt it with my entire body. I don't know what happened to me. What, what’s still happening to me.”

You smile, dropping your forehead against his. Yoongi closes his eyes, chasing your affection by rubbing his nose against yours.

“You make me happy when you talk like this, my love”, you whisper.

“I’m happy too, so fucking much.”

You smile and kiss his nose. Yoongi chases the tenderness, twisting the front of your shirt with weak fingers.

“Please promise me that we are forever”, he whispers. “I think you would fucking break me if you ever left.”

“God, I really got you good tonight. My sappy romantic, you”, you smile as you talk, pulling him closer, “the only way I’m gonna leave you, Min Yoongi, is if someone claws me off of you against my will.”

He chuckles and holds you close, “good. That’s fucking good. Ah fuck, I’m done. This was so intense.”

“It really was. You made a total mess of the bed.”

“I know. I think my soul left my body.”

You snicker, he snickers as well, kicking his feet happily.

“Gosh you, I could seriously eat you.”

Yoongi purrs, smiling goofily and stubbing your lips with his nose. You take his silent plea for more nose kisses instantly, nibbling on it gently which makes him giggle and squirm happily.

Quite frankly, he will endure all the annoying award shows in the world if it meant that he can come home to you and find his rebirth in the palms of your healing hands.

[msmk11]

Heyyy, I just saw that you were taking requests for Tangerine x Readers, and I was wondering if you could write something like Tangerine and reader being fwb before the whole bullet train thingy, and she catches feelings but he's super distant (bro has serious attachment issues) so he pushes her away and is a bitchy manchild about it (LOTS AND LOTS OF ANGST but it has a fluffy ending) (smutty too if ur comfortable with it) ofc u can ignore this request if u don't want to, and I'd write it myself but I have zero motivation rn and I js wanna cry and then giggle😭🫶

And I Have To Live With It, For the Rest of My Life

Tangerine x fem!reader

WC: 3.4k

CW: HEAVY ANGST; slut shaming; booze/being drunk; fighting; cursing; lack of aftercare; mentions of sex; Tangerine is a HUGE asshole. Tiny fluff ending.

A/n: Hi love! Thanks for requesting! Sorry this took so long I just needed to find inspo. I’m also sorry for the lack of smut (and fluff tbh,) I just don’t take smut requests. As for fluff, I did want a “happy ending” but it felt cheap to try and go from ANGST to “everything is perfect again” in such few words. Maybe I’m just traumatized, but I have a hard time forgiving quickly lol and I think that shows here.

Everything was really, really good.

So of course you had to go and ruin it.

People say you can’t control matters of the heart and you think that it’s a load of bullcrap. Why not? Why couldn’t you have control over your heart?

And why did you have to catch feelings for Tangerine?

It isn’t part of the deal. Tangerine is a business partner. An acquaintance. A friend. A friend you occasionally fuck.

Your relationship with Tangerine was always supposed to be casual. No strings attached- business was simply business and fucking simply fucking. But then your heart got involved.

What’s one supposed to do?

Certainly not keep going back to the captor of one’s heart.

So of course that’s exactly what you do.

You’re laying in your hotel bed, completely naked, covers pooled around your waist. You and Tangerine just finished having sex and he’s already up and moving about, throwing on his clothes that had been discarded on the floor somewhere in your flurry of lust. Instead of saying anything, you just watch him in all his glory. You admire his tousled post-sex hair, curls askew, the way his back muscles ripple as he bends down to sweep his shirt up off the ground, and the way his fingers deftly button up his shirt.

“Got a meeting to head off to?” You ask casually.

Translation: Please don’t run off so soon if you don’t have to. Stay.

Tangerine’s eyes flit to yours briefly before he bends down to tie his shoes, “something like that.”

“Mhmm.”

You pull the covers up to your neck, suddenly feeling very vulnerable so bare and exposed to Tangerine who’s nearly fully dressed.

“You got a comb?” the brunette asks you gruffly as he straightens his suit jacket.

You nod towards the bathroom, “yeah, in there.”

He gives you no reply, only walking into the bathroom and shutting the door with a resounding thud.

Your stomach clenches painfully and your heart aches. The indifference with which Tangerine treats you hurts so badly. You’d rather him hate you then act like this. At least you’d know that he felt something, anything.

Is it too early for a drink?

The bathroom door opens again and Tangerine walks out, looking as though nothing ever happened. To him, nothing probably has. Nothing of consequence, at least.

“Well, I’m heading out. See you for our debrief tonight at nine.”

Tangerine begins to walk towards the door.

“Wait!” you call out.

You stop him just in time, his hand frozen on the handle. You swear he visibly tenses at your words, “what?”

“Could- could you at least get me a towel? Please?”

He doesn’t even look at you before nodding, “Yeah.”

He disappears into the bathroom for a moment before reappearing with a towel in hand. Tangerine, it seems, doesn’t even have the decency to walk the towel over to you. Instead, he tosses it across the room, almost hitting you in the face.

“Thanks.”

Shame pools in your stomach and you keep your gaze on the towel in your hands.

Tangerine grumbles a reply and then makes for the door so quickly that there’s no chance for you to say anything more.

Your heart sinks at the possibility that Tangerine might know you have feelings for him.

*****

You’ve already found a secluded spot in the hotel lounge and have a drink in hand when the twins appear downstairs. They take a seat across from you wordlessly and Tangerine lifts his hand in the air gracefully, motioning for a cocktail waitress to come take his order. Lemon and him order their drinks, and you ask for a second. It bothers you severely when you catch Tangerine winking at the waitress out of the corner of your eye.

You down the rest of your drink in one gulp and ignore how it burns your throat.

“Right, so the job’s done. When are we getting out of here?” Lemon asks tiredly.

“We,” Tangerine says, pointing between him and his brother, “are out of here first thing in the morning, “I’ve booked our tickets for a 5 am flight.”

“And her?” Lemon responds, pointing to you.

Tangerine barely glances at you, but you can see his jaw tense, “the job’s done. Figured she’s a fucking big girl who can handle getting herself home. Isn’t that right, love?”

Condescension drips from Tangerine’s words and it makes your stomach drop. You refrain from saying what you really want to and instead assume a relaxed persona, “mhmm, always right you are. I arranged for my travel last night.”

You, luckily, weren’t lying, though you had ordered a car big enough for three. More room for you, you guess.

The waitress comes back with your drinks and you eagerly take yours. When she asks if you need anything else, you can tell that she’s really only talking to Tangerine. Still, you tell her yes, asking for a third drink.

Lemon eyes you, “you haven’t even touched your second drink and now you’re ordering a third?”

You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly and lean back in your chair, “I’ve got the money to spend on it now that we each just made what, nearly 12,000 pounds?”

Lemon smirks in celebration and holds out his drink to you, “cheers.”

You clink glasses but Tangerine doesn’t join in, a perpetual frown gracing his face.

“Ya really wanna get fucking sloshed before ya travel tomorrow?” the brunette suddenly chimes in- rather judgmentally, you might add.

“Who said anything about sloshed, Tangerine? I can hold more than you think.”

While your answer is confident, even combative, on the inside, your heart leaps into your throat and pounds desperately. You think you might explode.

“Still, ya certainly don’t have any self-control. Not over ya drinks, your mouth, and most importantly….” Tangerine’s eyes narrow at you, “not over ya emotions.”

Your heart sinks in your chest.

So Tangerine did know about your feelings. Worse? He’s being a right fucking prick about it too. There’s no emotional sensitivity, no respect for privacy, nothing. Serves you right for fucking a cold-blooded assassin.

Unfortunately for you, tears spring to your eyes despite the fury boiling in your stomach, “you wanna talk about control, Tangerine? Let’s talk about how you have so little control over your own feelings that you lash out at others and make them feel like shit, even your own brother, so that you feel better. Let’s talk about how you can’t keep your dick in your pants because you’d rather fuck anything that looks at you than deal with anything real. Let’s talk about how what’s happened between us has made you feel so out of control that you’re willing to go low enough to hash this out in fucking public. You’re a walking disaster, Tangerine, and I feel right fucking sorry for you, I really do.”

You stand up harshly and purposely knock his drink onto his expensive suit. You start to walk away and then turn back, batting your eyelashes innocently, “oh wait, should I get you a fucking towel to clean up? Or would you rather beg me for it?”

You don’t wait for a response and grab a dry towel off a random cleaning rack, throwing it right in his fucking face.

*****

Tangerine glares after you as you storm off.

“What the bloody fuck was that all about?” Lemon protests.

Tangerine ignores Lemon and instead curses loudly before chasing after you. He could not let you have the last fucking word. He catches you right in time, hand stopping the doors of the elevator you’re in.

You look up at him startled, and your shocked expression is quickly replaced with an angry one.

“What the fuck, Tangerine? Get out of here!”

“Ya don’t get to fucking talk to me like that and spill my drink all over me and then just walk away.”

“Why not,” you scoff, “you ran away as soon as you were done using me to jack off. It only seems fair.”

The elevator doors slide shut and the car begins to move upwards slowly.

“Yeah, well that’s usually what happens when ya casually fuck someone. But I don’t think ya have a casual bone in your body- always stomping around being a dramatic attention-whore.”

Tangerine watches your eyes narrow and jaw harden, “there’s a difference between being causal and being a huge dick, Tangerine. I should’ve known you’d be the latter.”

“And I should’ve known not to mess around with a fucking slut like you.”

Your eyes widen in shock and even Tangerine knows that he’s taken things a little too far. While your effort to fight back your tears is valiant, it’s fruitless, and they begin to stream down your face.

“Fuck you, Tangerine. You know, I never expected you to return my feelings, and I’m sorry I crossed a line by falling for you. Swear to fucking god I wish I didn’t. But you- you’ve just crossed an unforgivable line, and I never want to see you again. Have a fucking nice life.”

The elevator doors slide open and you scurry out. This time, Tangerine doesn’t follow you.

*****

After everything that happened with Tangerine on your last mission, you decided to take an indefinite hiatus from work and just focus on yourself.

One of your goals? Fuck your feelings for Tangerine out of you. So of course, you’d been spending a lot of nights out at the bars, seducing all the eligible bachelors of the city into your bed.

You hope that it’s working.

Tonight is no different from the rest- you dressed up in one of your sexy outfits sitting at the bar of some new local pub. You’ve already eyed a muscular blonde about your age from across the bar and motion for him to come over.

He complies and makes his way to you, a cocky smirk on his face.

“Hey gorgeous,” you tease, looking him up and down.

The man takes a seat next to you, “Hullo, love. What’s a pretty girl like you doing sitting at the bar all by herself?”

You shrug nonchalantly, “looking for a handsome man. Like you, I suppose.”

He cocks his eyebrow at you, “you suppose?”

“Always hard to tell in this type of lighting.”

The blonde bites his lip and eyes you, “I can promise you I’m handsome.”

“We’ll see.”

“I’m Matt,” he says, extending his hand.

You respond with your name and grasp his hand. You’re expecting a handshake, but instead he brings your knuckles to his lips and kisses them softly.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

Damn this man is smooth.

“Really, the pleasure is all mine, Matt,” you respond, trying not to appear too flustered.

“Can I get you a drink?”

“Yeah, sure. Surprise me though.”

Matt orders the two of you drinks and you take the time to ogle him. He’s perfect.

But not as per-

Nope.

No, you don’t have time to think about him.

Matt hands you the mysterious concoction and you eye him, “what is it?”

“Just drink,” he nods, “promise it’s good.”

You take a small sip and it’s sweet. It’s yummy, and you take another, larger sip.

“Oh shit, this is good.”

“Told you.”

“Can I know what it is now?”

“No way. Need to hold this above you so you keep coming back to me to ask for another.”

You chuckle and look down, “okay Mr. Smooth-Talker. That was pretty good.”

“I can do a lot more than that,” he says seductively. His hand slides out casually and finds a home on your thigh.

You inhale sharply in pleasant surprise and lean towards him, “oh really?”

Matt leans in towards you too, “yeah, like-“

Just as you’re about to kiss him you hear a loud shout.

“Hey, get your hands off her!”

You startle at the sound and turn to see who could possibly be yelling like a maniac inside this bar. You’re also curious to know who’s the one getting yelled at.

Your stomach drops when you realize that you’re the target. And the yeller?

Tangerine.

“Oh my fucking God,” you curse, resting your forehead in your hands.

Tangerine comes stalking towards you.

“Uh, who the fuck is that?” Matt asks warily.

“My ex….fuck-buddy? Friend-with-benefits? I don’t know, it was complicated. But a piece of shit- that’s what he is.”

“What the fuck are you doing, mate?” Tangerine yells at Matt when he approaches you two. His words slur together and you can tell he’s really, really drunk.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Matt says gruffly.

“I’m not the one getting handsy with someone else’s girl,” the brunette snarls.

You scoff loudly, “Your girl? That’s rich Tangerine. Last I recall I was just a slut you fucked.”

Tangerine’s expression softens just the slightest and you almost think you clock regret in his eyes.

“Look, mate, you’re drunk. So get your ass out of here before I hand it to you,” Matt threatens.

Tangerine is sent back into his rage and steps toward Matt menacingly, “you little fucking,”

“Okay,” you shout, stepping in between them and putting a hand on each of their chests, “that’s enough.”

“Tangerine, go. home,” you growl.

“Yeah fucking right I-“

“Just let me take him,” Matt interrupts.

You scan his tense body, “Look, I appreciate it, but you’re not gonna win. Tangerine here is, well, trained. And I don’t want anything to happen to your pretty face. I’ll take care of him.”

“But he’s definitely stronger than you,” Matt protests.

You side eye Tangerine, “he won’t hurt me.”

The blonde’s eyes narrow.

“Physically, at least.”

Matt finally sighs and steps back, “I’ll be waiting here for you.”

You send him a half smile and then turn to the brunette with a glare, “Let’s. Go.”

Then, you literally grab him by the ear and drag him outside the bar. Tangerine lets out a string of curses and tries to fight back a little before he finally gives up.

When you get outside you let go of his ear and shove him, “What the fuck was that, Tangerine?”

“I was trying to protect you from that git,” he slurs.

“Tangerine, you’re the git. You’re the one that hurt me. It’s you I need protection from.”

Tangerine’s tough guy facade crumbles right before your eyes into one of remorse. He suddenly looks years beyond his age and crumples down onto the sidewalk, back pressed to the wall.

You look down at him with disgust. His hair is all over the place, his clothes are a complete mess, and he reeks of booze.

“I’m calling Lemon.”

With shaky hands you dial his number.

He picks up rather quickly and you can hear the confusion in his voice when he answers, “uh, hello?”

“Lemon, come get your fucking brother.”

*****

Although Matt was everything you could’ve hoped for, your night was ruined after Tangerine left. Luckily, Matt was understanding, and you’d exchanged numbers to meet up another day.

When you’d gotten home from the bar, you’d broken down completely. All of the anger, betrayal, frustration and sadness that had been pent up within you for weeks burst forth like a raging storm. You’d sobbed and screamed and even pitched a picture frame of you, Tangerine, and Lemon across the room, shattering it. The broken glass was a problem for later-you, and you’d ended up falling asleep on your couch, still in your bar clothes.

Loud bangs are what startle you awake hours later, and you curse as you flail off the couch. You hit the floor with a thud and groan. Now, not only is your head pounding, but your back will be all beat up too.

The pounding on your door continues and you curse whoever is making a ruckus this early.

You yank the door open, “what the fuck do you want?”

The last person you expect to see is on the other side.

Tangerine.

“Fuck off,” you spit before swinging the door shut resoundly.

Except the door doesn’t close because Tangerine’s foot catches it.

“Fuck me,” he groans in pain.

The brunette shoves the door back open and you smirk, “that’s what you get for being in places you don’t belong. Now get the hell out of my apartment.”

“Wait, wait. Please, just give me a chance to talk to ya. And then, if ya want, you never have to fucking see my face again.”

You don’t reward him with a response and instead just walk away, sighing.

Tangerine takes this as an invitation and walks inside your apartment, letting the door shut gently behind him. You beeline straight to where you left off on the couch, paying him no mind.

The idiot must not be paying attention because you hear the crackle of glass beneath his shoes and a quiet curse.

Tangerine goes silent and you stiffen, listening closely. You hear the pings of shattered glass being sifted through and then his footsteps as he nears your spot on the couch.

“I forgot about this picture,” he rasps.

“Well you can fucking have it. I don’t want it anymore.”

“Can I- can I sit?”

You briefly glance over at Tangerine and look him up and down. You don’t respond, only nodding.

Though he, like you, is still in his clothes from last night, he looks ten times worse. The purple bags under his eyes are heavy and dark, his hair and mustache aren’t groomed, his button up is missing a few buttons, and his shoes are untied. Maybe it’s bad to say, but you revel in how miserable and pathetic he looks.

“You look fucking awful,” you remark, venom heavy in your tone.

“And ya look like you’ve been crying.”

“Well no shit, Tangerine. Sort of happens when someone you thought was your friend turns out to be a big fucking prick. “

He looks down at his feet and shuffles awkwardly, “I know. I’ve uh, that’s why I came here to talk to ya. To apologize.”

You scoff and look at him with disbelief, “okay now you want to apologize? Only when you’ve fucking hit rock bottom you wanna mend things?”

“Love, no I, I’ve been wanting to since that night in the fucking elevator I-“

“Don’t call me that,” you whisper angrily, lip wobbling in spite of yourself.

“I’m not your love, I’m not your friend, I’m not your anything anymore. We’re done Tangerine, this is over.”

It’s then that the boy you’ve known for almost five years does something you never would have imagined.

He grovels.

He literally gets on his knees before you and grabs your hands tightly, looking up at you with pleading eyes.

“Just listen to me for a second. Please. I want ya to know how fucking sorry I am. Not just for last night, but for everything. I’m sorry I called ya a slut. I’m sorry I was rude, and distant, and an asshole. I’m sorry for fucking you like some piece of meat and then just leaving you behind with no aftercare, no attention, nothing. I’m sorry for being a terrible friend and I’m sorry for not telling you that I love you sooner.”

Tears shine in Tangerine’s blue eyes and he chokes on his next words, “Christ, I love ya so fucking much. And I know I’ve gone and fucked things up now, and that it’s too late. And I have to accept every day for the rest of my life that it’s my fault. I have to live with that. And I will, even though it could kill me. But I don’t know what I would’ve done if I couldn’t tell ya at least once.”

Tangerine’s forehead falls to your knees and his body begins to shake in quiet sobs.

He inhales sharply through his nose, trying to hold back more tears, and looks up at you so sadly. “You’re the best girl out there, and you deserve the best. You deserve to find that with someone. Someone who isn’t me.”

Tears of your own begin to drip from your face and your heart throbs in your chest.

You reach out and cup Tangerine’s jaw so gently it’s as if he could crumble under your fingertips at any second.

“Tangerine,” you whisper.

You search his eyes for any sign of insincerity, of some sign that he’s going to break your heart again. But all you see is true, genuine adoration and vulnerability. Consciously or not, your heart returns to the hands of the one who holds and you pull him in, kissing him softly.

The kiss is sloppy, and salty and wet, but you don’t care, because every peck and sigh and bite is punctuated by what you both know- I love you. I love you. I love you.

[urlranpo]

BSD | Where's the Dessert?

summary | how the ada boys eat you out

ft | dazai, ranpo, fukuzawa, kunikida, atsushi

warnings | smut, cunnlingus, degradation (dazai, slightly ranpo)

▿▿▿▿▿▿▿▿▿

Dazai

His silver tongue is a dangerous weapon, and he knows it. It's not often that Dazai is between your legs since he much rather be inside you, but when he is, he teases you to tears and laughs about it.

"You're really just a slut, you know that? Moaning loud enough where we're sure to get a complaint from the neighbors and all I'm doing is making a mess of your sloppy pussy," his voice is too causal that it's demeaning as he stares you down from in between your legs. The haze in his eyes scream evil and you're inclined to believe it.

Whining you try to protest, but he only shuts you up the second he clicks his tongue and shakes his head, "Well I guess I'm just going to have to treat you like the whore you are, aren't I?" Instantly his tongue finds its way to your wet heat and one of his thumbs press lightly against your clit, making you shiver.

You can feel his smirk against your folds as his tongue laps at you. And when it's all over he won't be shy to admit that you look adorable when you come over his mouth.

Ranpo

Is there anyone better suited for the job than the world's greatest detective? There's nothing more that Ranpo loves than delving into your sweetness and making you shake from his tongue alone. He's not usually the giving type and that will not change. When he goes down on you, he's doing it for himself. Ranpo can't help but want his next dessert to be you since you're his favorite sweet to eat.

As you have your legs wrapped around his head, he's doing his best while pouting because you won't stop squirming around while he's trying to enjoy himself. Selfishly, he holds your hips down, "Stop moving will ya?! It's my snack break and you're ruining it." There's a frown on his lips, but you swear to god that he smiles the second he presses his face against your heat again. The little shit.

You're about to tell him off but are abruptly cut off by your own moan. Ranpo snickers and pulls away just to see your fucked out expression he loves so much. He's sure to tease you later about it, but for now all he cares about is shoving his tongue into your soaked cunt. Lord knows how much he loves to drink you up like you're the last meal he'll ever have.

Fukuzawa

If there's one person to treat your pussy like it's his only duty, it's Fukuzawa. There's no man that's more delicate and precise with every movement and touch he gives you. You swear you almost fall on the spot when he lays down flat on his back and beckons you over with the curl of his finger.

The first couple of times he was bashful at the mere thought of preforming oral, but the grip he has on your thighs the moment you're hovering over his face, tells you he's since overcame that. He's all too eager to please you and gets to work almost immediately, but not before biting the inside of one of your thighs. He needs to leave a mark, or he won't be satisfied.

He'll have you in tears within the first few minutes. With his tongue pressed against your clit and one of his fingers sneaking into your dripping hole, he'll grunt at the sound of your whines. He pretends he hates to see you cry, but he really, he adores your whimpers and cries for him to slow down (though he'll never admit that to you).

Momentarily, while you're clamping your thighs around his head, he'll pull back and scold you, "Darling, don't start crying when I've only just started."

Kunikida

To this day, Kunikida is self-conscious about going down on you. No matter how many times he finds his face in-between your thighs, it's like the first time all over again. He finds himself staring down at your heat, blush covering the entirety of his face and neck. Almost every day of his life he's in danger, yet he's still acts like the virgin you first met when you started dating.

Kunikida gulps as he's kneeled down in front of your bare pussy. There's a meticulous method he has stored in head when he begins to trail light feathery kisses to the insides of your thighs. They lead all the way up before he stops just before he gets to where you want him most.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers before he leaves soft presses of his lips along your slit. He's so gentle and sweet, and before the night is over, he promises that you'll be satisfied with his performance

Atsushi

Your sweet, sweet little Atsushi. There will never be a time he's confident enough to give you the pleasure you deserve. Every time he even thinks about going down you out, he grows anxious. Not because he doesn't want to, because there's nothing he wants more, but because he's not necessarily confident in his ability.

However, with some reassure here, and some praise there, he's glowing with anticipation. Atsushi literally tears your underwear into shreds and promises that he'll buy you new ones, but for now he needs to eat you out.

"Baby, you're so sweet. Could stay here for hours," he sighs delightedly, cheek rested against your inner thigh and eyes trained on your cute face. He's so in love with you.

So, when he does get back to work, there's something carnivorous about him. Atsushi practically has to pin your hips down because you won't stop shaking. He feels so proud, yet underserving when he hears you mewl out his name over and over again.

[deanwritings]

The Guest House - Chapter 10

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Series Summary: Dean Winchester is going through a nasty divorce. He doesn't have much left to his name, but what he does have is his house. Leave it to his soon-to-be ex wife to find a way to even ruin that for him. Enter Y/N, who is looking to get away from life for a bit, and stumbles right into the middle of it all.

The Guest House Master List

Word Count: 3,180

A/N: Know it's been a while and appreciate everyone's patience!

It takes a little over an hour for Dean to finish up the two cars. Having been taught your lesson, you handed Dean the correct tools he requested, though he did remember to say “please” each time he asked. 

From time to time he would explain what he was working on, not that it meant much to you, but you were starting to pick up on a few things, which you were hoping to take home with you so you wouldn’t feel so helpless the next time you went to get an oil change.

“So how did you even meet Rick?” You lean against a pillar as Dean rolls out from the Stingray, shutting off his head lamp as he stands. He lets out a chuckle at your question. 

“I’ve actually known him most of my life.” Dean gently rests against the hood, crossing his arms. 

You just raise your eyebrows, hoping he’ll elaborate. 

“My dad used to come here all the time growing up, and so did Rick.” He continues. “They were around the same age and they kept in touch as they got older. My dad used to bring us up here when we were kids. I loved it, but Sam and my mom would spend our visits up here swimming at the lake, but my dad and I would be sitting in those bleachers.” He points out the windowed garage door to the grand stands.

“It would be July and it could be 120 degrees between the heat and the cars, but there was nowhere else we’d rather be.” He reminisces with a smile but he keeps his eyes on his oil-stained boots. 

“Rick is cut from the same cloth. He stopped coming around as I got older, got busy with his fancy life in the city, but when he ended up buying this place, he reached out to my dad and I, would get us in the ‘VIP’ suite, which were just his seats. He was excited when he found out I started working in Bobby’s shop, and then a couple years later he called me up to take a look at a vintage car he was going to buy. Said he had hired a guy but didn’t trust his report, so needed someone he could count on. I was just twenty-one, but he trusted every word I said, and I’ve been working for him ever since.”

You smile across at Dean, not that he sees it. Whether intentionally or not, Dean was opening up to you, more of him becoming unraveled. And there’s one question you’ve been wanting to ask him for weeks now, and you finally felt comfortable enough with him to post it.

“And what’s the deal with you and Nick?” You ask quietly, nervous that you may be overstepping, but hell, he brought you to a weekend away at his mom’s house. You were well past acquaintance status. 

You think back to that night at Max’s, your first week here, when you had gotten cozy with the blonde-haired beau before Dean had stepped in. Before Dean gave a shit about you, he did that night. And you always wondered why.

Dean takes in a deep breath, keeping his eyes downcast. 

“It started back in high school. It was just teenage stuff; he was the football star, I played basketball. We were both really competitive and it was just a lot of stupid ego stuff. But when Sammy started high school my senior year, Nick took an interest in him, and decided to make Sam’s life hell because of me. He bullied the poor kid almost every day. So I took it upon myself to make sure he never bothered Sam again.” A smirk slowly begins to rise. “Got suspended for a week because of it and almost wasn’t allowed to walk graduation, but it was worth it.”

“And what exactly did you do?” His eyes flash up to you, a devilish gleam in them. 

“I may or may not have rigged his airbags to go off when he turned the radio on one day after school.”

You blanch.

“You can do that?” Dean nods.

“But how did they know that was you? Even if he suspected you, there would have been no way to prove it.”

“Because I was waiting for him in the parking lot and after they went off, I pulled him out of the car and told him if he ever bothered Sammy again I would cut his brakes and make it look like an accident.” Dean doesn’t flinch at the threat, and neither do you. You had two younger siblings, both brothers. You understood. Being the older sibling also meant being the protector, and you had stepped in from time to time when your brothers needed it. 

Dean looks back to you.

“That was the end of it though. Never bothered me or Sam again.” He wipes his hands against each other before shoving them in the pockets of his coveralls. 

“Well I guess I really do owe you for saving me from ‘the town’s biggest asshole’ then.” You smile at him, using his own words from that night. Words you had thrown back at him in rash rage. 

“I would say so.” He agrees, pushing off the car and closing the gap between you. Your eyes stalk the movement, not missing a step until he stops an arm’s length from you. His eyes have that devilish sparkle that twists your stomach in the best way.

“And what exactly do you have in mind?” You challenge, standing up straighter even though your knees feel weak. 

“How about dinner?” His voice is low, shared only between the two of you even though there’s no one else around. 

Your eyes widen.

“You’re asking me out?” You gawk, practically breathless. His lips slowly curve up and he doesn’t break your gaze.

“I’m saying you can make it up to me by taking me out to dinner.” Your face and stomach drop, irritation rising like bile up your throat.

“Are you serious?” You cross your arm and drop your hip. 

“Sure am, sweetheart.” He purrs. You respond with a heavy breath out of your nose.

“I literally just bought you lunch the other day.” You snap. “Explain to me why it’s my responsibility to keep feeding you?” You bite, ignoring the fact that you had bought him lunch the other day as a thank you for taking you hiking. But he didn’t need to be reminded of that. 

Instead of waiting for an answer, you side step from him and walk towards the exit.

“Where are you going?” Dean calls from behind you. You turn on your heel and stare him down.

“Aren’t you done?” You huff, crossing your arms again. “I was headed back to the car.” You throw your thumb over your shoulder.

Dean just annoyingly smiles back at you.

“We’re not taking the truck.” You raise your eyebrows.

“What are we going to walk back?” You retort. 

Dean turns on his heel in response and walks further into the garage.

You wait a second, then two, to see if he’s going to turn around, but he doesn’t. You tap your foot, but Dean still doesn’t turn back.

You drop your arms with a heavy breath and start after him, following him a few stalls down until you see him leaning into the open door of a shining black car, the body sleek and clearly not from this century.

“Is this another one of Rick’s?” You step up to the hood, tempted to reach out and run your fingers down the polished onyx. 

“Nope,” Dean’s voice is muffled through the windshield as he rummages around inside.

“Can you answer a question that doesn’t require me to continue asking you questions?” You scowl, starting to have enough of this little game of his. 

His laugh just echoes as he pushes out of the car and rests on the open door.

“Remember I told you about my baby?” You squint your eyes, the conversation ringing a vague bell. 

You suck in a breath. 

“Your car.” You snap your finger then point it at him and it comes back to you, remembering how absurd you thought it was when Dean shared he called his prized car “baby.” 

Dean raises his eyebrows with a smile, opening his arms wide.

“Y/N, meet Baby. Baby, meet Y/N.” You frown at his exaggerated antics.

“Please don’t make me say “hi” to the car.” You groan, wondering exactly how much Dean loves this car. 

Dean pats the hood and leans in.

“Don’t worry, Baby. She can be nice when she wants to be.” He coos. Your eyes bulge and mouth gapes. 

“Should I be concerned about you? Is this what happens when you spend your life around car fumes?” You cross your arms, half kidding. 

Dean just looks back at you with a grin. 

“Get in the car will ya?” He orders before he dips down and plops into the driver’s seat and closes his car.

You stare at him for a moment through the windshield as he fiddles with something. 

Aunt Rose, help me. You say up a silent prayer before you walk around the car and take a seat onto the white leather bench. 

The inside is immaculate; conditioned, tan upholstery, a shining steering wheel, and a dashboard expertly restored to its former glory.

You run a hand along the felt ceiling, the fibers tickling your fingertips. 

“You really built this car?” You ask in awe as you continue to take in the refurbished wonder. 

Dean presses a button on a clicker attached to his visor, and the garage door in front of you begins to rise, sun chasing in through the windshield. 

“Sure did,” Dean turns the key in the engine, the car roaring to life before Dean flicks down the gear shift into drive. “Got her in a scrap yard for a couple hundred bucks, then would use my paychecks from the shop to buy her new parts. Took me over three years. Which is why I keep her here.” Dean slowly pulls out of the garage, waiting for the car to clear before he hits the clicker again, shutting the door behind us.  

You smile out the window as you slowly make your way down the empty race track towards the exit.

“If you love her that much why not just drive her all the time?” You play with the leather armrest that connects to the door. “Seems like a waste to just leave it in a garage all the time.” You muse.

You don't have many mantras in life, but one you strongly believed in not waiting to enjoy something. Your parents had saved an expensive bottle of champagne for you as a graduation present. They had won it in an auction years before and never had a good reason to open it and figured celebrating your matriculation would be the right time to finally pop it open. By the time they did, it had gone bad and your dad shook his head as he poured it down the drain. 

“Cause I ain’t risking a dent or scratch in her after all the time I put into fixing her up.” Dean waves at the gate agent as you pass through the exit, and you give him a smile as well.

“I’m just saying. What’s the point of having a beautiful car like this if you’re just going to keep her hidden away? You’re like an overprotective father.” You chuckle as you look back out the window at the passing scenery of bare trees and dead grass. March truly was an ugly month. 

You look over to Dean, catching his gaze for a moment before it returns to the road, a smirk his only answer. 

Without a word, Dean leans his foot heavily onto the gas pedal, the needle on the speedometer quickly climbing as the outdoor world begins to blur by.  

His heart jumps into his throat and his smile grows as the car continues to pick up speed. He wants to glance at Y/N, see her reaction, but he’s not reckless, not enough to take his eyes off the straightaway as the Impala ticks past 80 MPH.

He hears you take in a breath, but it’s not a gasp, doesn't sound scared or shocked, and he’s hoping you’re feeling the same excitement that he is as he shoots down the street, the engine rumbling through the front seat as he darts down his own personal racetrack that he’s driven down more times than he can count. 

Which is why he takes his foot off the gas, letting the needle fall before they come up to the bend that takes them back into town. 

It was only a few seconds, mere heartbeats, but it always makes Dean feel alive. 

Once the car is at a manageable speed, he peeks over to you – your hand is braced against the door, but your smile is wide in a silent laugh. He swallows at the sight, a lump growing in his throat before he looks back to the road, taking the turn at an easy speed.

“I know it doesn’t quite compare after Rick took you through the racetrack today, but every time I take Baby out of the garage, I’ve gotta run her.” He beams, triumph heavy in his chest as he shows off his pride and joy, feeling a pure sense of excitement that he truly hasn’t felt in years. 

Dean looks back over to you, your hair swishing as you shake your head. 

“No,” you breathe out with a smile. “That was great.” 

Dean releases a deep breath through his nose he didn’t realize he was holding. Almost like he was worried about your answer.

“Still think you should take her out more.” 

Dean just smirks, revving the engine again and letting the car fly. 

After Dean brings them to a roadside burger stand for lunch, they’re back at Mary’s house. Y/N had excused herself for a shower, and Mary and Dean lounge in the living room, the sun setting behind the windows, while Dean scrolls through social media on his phone. 

“Nice day out?” Mary asks from the couch across from him, a book in her lap.

Dean takes a breath and puts his phone down, hearing her tone. The same tone she had in the kitchen this morning when she was inquiring more about the woman he brought home.

Not taking the bait, he simply replies, “Good. Managed to get all of Rick’s cars done in just about two hours. He’s all ready for tomorrow.” Mary just rolls her chartreuse eyes. 

“And Y/N?” She asks bluntly. “How was your day with her?” 

He knows what his mother is fishing for. Outside of the odd high school fling, Lisa was the only woman he had ever brought home. And here he was, with Y/N, some random girl he met only a few weeks ago, brought here by his ex, showering just upstairs.

The thought lights something in his eyes as his gaze leaves the living room, thinking of the blue and white bathroom he was so familiar with, the lengthy standup shower, enough room for two, where Y/N was probably lathering soap all over —-

“Dean.” Mary chirps, almost like she can see her son’s thoughts on his face. 

“What?” He snaps, heat flushing his neck and cheeks, feeling like a caught child. 

Mary just sighs and moves her book aside, leaning forward and resting her arms on her jean-clad knees. 

“Don’t even start, mom.” He can see the conversation she wants to have. 

“You’re the one who brought her here.” She counters. He rubs a hand down his face and leans back against the cushion.

“Look, I’m just trying to be friendly. She and I started off on a really bad foot, and I’m stuck with her for the month. Also, when I invited her, I never thought she’d actually say yes. I was more being polite.” Which was true, but doesn’t change the fact that when he got her text that she was going to join him for the weekend, his stomach flipped. 

“She just quit her job and lost her aunt.” He continues on thoughtlessly. “She’s spending a month in a place where she knows no one. I’m just trying to be nice.” He sighs, crossing his arms across his chest. 

A soft, but sad smile graces Mary’s lips, and she leans back.

“Well then, I’m very proud of you.” Dean starts to smile, but it doesn’t fully form. He looks across at his mother. “What?” She offers him back a similar smile.

“Just sounds like the two of you may have come together at the right time is all.” Dean frowns as he hears the telltale creak of pipes as the water upstairs shuts off.  

“What does that mean?” He huffs. 

“Well it sounds like she’s going through some big life changes, and so are you.” She offers gently. 

“Oh here we go.” Dean rolls his eyes, his fists tightening.

“Huff and pout all you want, Dean.” Mary chastises her oldest son, who was always the most stubborn of her two boys. “But I think it’s nice that you two found each other when you're both going through a difficult time.” Dean fights the urge to roll his eyes again, knowing if he does, it will draw another chide from his mother. 

“Fine,” he concedes. “It’s nice.” He placates his mother, hoping to end the conversation.

He’s not a charity case. He’s going through a divorce, just like 50% of married people. He’s not the first and he’s certainly not the last. He doesn’t need her pity. Or yours. Not that you’ve offered it. 

Soft footsteps echo overhead, Y/N likely padding down the hallway back to her room. Probably in nothing but a towel. 

“It’s just nice to see you happy again, Dean. Been a while since I’ve seen it.” Dean unfurls at her words, his body slumping with a sigh. 

He’s being a dick. To his mother. 

What an asshole.

He runs his hand down his face again. 

Mary stands and steps around the coffee table, stopping in front of her sullen son. She rests a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“Don’t fight something nice just because you don’t think you deserve it.” She gives him a squeeze. After a moment, she steps away with a pat to his shoulder before she goes.

“I’m going to run to the store and pick up dinner. Any requests?” Dean opens his mouth. “Besides pie.” Mary beats him to it. 

“All good.” Mary nods her head.

“I’ll be back in a little bit.” This time, Dean nods, quietly listening as Mary grabs her keys from the kitchen before stepping out the front door. 

He hears Y/N move about upstairs again as Mary’s car comes to life in the driveway.

But Dean just relaxes on the couch, rests his head back, and closes his eyes.

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[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Demon Knight: Odel

[I plan on making a part 2, I just needed to write something, to begin with!]

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Ad Laetitiam et Pacem

“It is set in ink. I will not hear anymore else of it,” your father, the King declared. “You will marry Lord Meriweather’s son by the arrival of spring.”

Perhaps in the hopes of pleasing your father, you would have heeded to words, to remain dutiful as princess of the realm and make your family proud.

That same night when you heard of your fate, you prepared to dress comfortably in a washerwoman’s ensemble, before slipping out the high window.

To hell with the arrangement, I would rather live a life of celibacy. This fate will not ruin my life.

The third daughter out of six and the eighth out of eleven living children, you had many brothers and sisters older that would be set for better matches from well-known lords and ladies. Yet, you were not put to become queen or to be married off to a wealthy lord, you were assigned to marry a minor lordling, his youngest son feeble and health ailing.

Of all the four sons of Lord Meriweather’s brood, you had to be matched with one with no proper destiny. Hugh was sickly and frail, not a knight or the heir to his father’s land, he was predestined to nothingness, and upon your first meeting with him, you snidely advised he was better suited to abstinence than to displeasing his future wife.

To your dissatisfaction, it had to be you that would be disappointed.

The moonlight acted as your only guide as you run blindly through the streets of the capital. Dead of life with only a few patrolling, you were able to squeeze into dark shadows, ducking and weaving before you found yourself on the outskirts of the capital. Its high, towering walls were manned, but you covered your face with your hood, ducking your head as you run out, away from the life you knew.

The adrenaline pumped swiftly in your chest, and a sense of freedom was overwhelming as the smile broadened on your face, racing your body as fast as you could through the woods.

Months of planning had come underway, and the only place you knew would be deserted; was Whitehaven Hold.

Your other option could’ve been to stay with your older sister, Alinor. Eight years your senior, she was married at eight-and-ten to a well-known and comely lord, giving him babes a year into their marriage.

Father will know I will go to her. You knew it would be a rooky mistake. He knew how much you loved your sister, how you missed her dearly after she was sent away to live the rest of her days in someone else’s castle.

Your older brother, Cassius was four-and-twenty, acting as a scholar in the south, but they did not accept women to the life of academics. No, it would’ve been harder to dress as a man to be accepted into his school.

It was a day or two away, and you spent your nights by a fire, rummaging for food and keeping what stale biscuits you hid in your dress pockets. You lay, wide awake, with no knowledge of where exactly you could go next.

The morning came easily when you arrived at the sight, a smouldering heat and smoke billowing from the mess in front of you.

Whitehaven Hold was a twisted, horrid sight. The battlements for a two-hundred-year war, its walls were burnt and destroyed, the stone had crumpled as it burnt and melted like candles, thousands burning inside. It acts as a haunted sight for travellers, with no Lord or Lady sane enough to reside there.

You entered through the battered doors, cold and damp easily enveloped you as you shuddered, looking around. It had been quickly looted of items by travellers, with not a sight of heirlooms or gold in sight. What remained was tattered and worn furniture, rooms dark and clammy and all the very same.

I’m not staying here before I lose my mind. You thought in disgust, but the thought of residing brought you to chuckle. The Lady of Whitehaven Hold- imagine the look on father’s face. It would not be good to stay a day or two before the cold enters your system and bring the chill quickly. It ached in your chest, not knowing where you could go next. South, always south. Away from it all.

The rooms were simple and easy to roam, a large, broken dining hall, fit for a Lord, wife and many heirs, its kitchen located on the far side. The table was battered and disarrayed, little to nothing scattered that remained of contents of food and dirt. You continued, walking past the cold entrance, up towards what remained of the grand staircase.

Spotting at the very top, are three displays of suits of armour, posing in similar positions. Their hands were positioned to have a greatsword in their hands, but only one remained in the grasp, the one in the middle.

You observed its armour, shinier and similar to molten black obsidian, it gleamed as if recently polished. You flicked your finger across the armour, its armour hummed low as you dragged across its armour to inspect for dirt.

“Hmph, just as I thought. A collectable.” You scoffed, wiping the grime from your finger as you stared up into its helm. The helmet was a beautiful display, gleaming in brilliance, except when you looked into the eyeless sockets of its eyes, something was not supposed to be there.

Eyes staring back. Alit with burning, enraged flames.

“There is little of me that I would class as a collectable,” a low, rumbling voice boomed, startling you rigid. You stepped back, towards the staircase, watching in horror. The talon-like fingers twitched momentarily, before another jolted with life, the whole hand was soon moving with existence.

The suit of armour slowly and lazily tested its movements, its long leg swung forward, groaning and choking as the armour moved. His fiery stare was towards you, raging with anger. “You are not meant to be here. You are trespassing.”

“No one lives here.”

“The Lord of Whitehaven Hold resides here, and I must protect my Lord from all.”

To your surprise, his fingers jerked to grip the hilt of his deadly sword tighter, a flash of silver startled you as he unsheathed the mighty weapon, before you were staggering, sprinting back down the stairs, hearing the squeaks of worn armour following hotly behind.

Leaving through the front door was an easier move, but with adrenaline pumping quickly in your chest. You stumbled and fell, your body kicking to keep moving, to hide, to do anything to get away from the deadly sword.

Something swung just behind you, a scream bubbling over you as his sword got caught into the wall, clinging with a hiss as it hit the wall and avoid taking a chunk out of you. You continued to run, in hopes you could find anywhere to hide, but no matter, the knight was hot on your tail.

You swept around the table, the knight rounding the other side, eyes flaming with the sword ready to swing before something caught his eye, something behind you. His sword lowered as he took in the damaged painting behind you, and you too turned to see what it was he was looking over.

The painting was of no doubt, the old Lord of Whitehaven Hold, yet he had been the first and last during the two-hundred-year war, murdered by conspirators who took over his castle after their coup.

There was a sadness that filled the knight’s eyes, lowering his sword, his entire demeanour changed to become defeated. “He’s gone?” His voice was gravelly and soft.

“He was murdered two-hundred years ago,” you spoke carefully, still gazing periodically towards the silver of his large sword. “There has not been another lord of this Hold since.”

The knight did not answer for a moment, looking at the painting with a solemn gaze that was so vivid without seeing the rest of his face. “Oh,” was the only word he spoke, before he sheathed his sword, marching back and away from the hall, back up towards the stairs.

“Hey, where are you going?” You stared in disbelief, uneasily tailing behind him a few feet. You watched how he climbed the stairs stiffly, moving back towards his display.

“I am no longer needed,” he spoke quietly. “I am free from my pact.”

“Pact from what?”

“The pact grants anyone who rules this hold the protection and my sword.” He moved towards to set himself in his display once more, propping the sword out to rest between his hands once more. You were by the bottom of the stairs, cautiously standing there. “I am no longer needed.”

Your cheeks heated the same way a child would grow in a tantrum. “Well, what if I became the next resident?”

His eyes peered over you, wide and in incredulously. “You’re a mere washerwoman.”

You remembered your clothing, the ones you snuck out in, and you knew you had no way of making him believe you. “Would you believe me if I said I was a Princess—and runaway one?”

He scoffed light-heartedly. “You’re rather funny, aren’t you?”

“I am!” You insisted. “My father is the current King, Cassius XV. My oldest brother is Crown Prince Isolde. My mother, Queen Adora, was forty when she passed, giving birth to my youngest sister, Margarita.” You told him your name, the one you despised using.

He did not answer once again, yet he seemed amused. “Anyone could know that of the current rulers.”

“I can read that,” you pointed towards the small display name, written in the old language of Ald, passed down to royalty and nobles to keep alive. “Would a washerwoman know about the culture and language of Ald? Would a washerwoman even know how to read?”

“Maybe so,” he assessed warily. “What is a princess like yourself doing out here?”

“My father wished to have me married off.”

He inquired amusedly. “You ran away from your betrothal? I don’t think I’ve heard of such a thing before.”

“You don’t know many princesses.” You muttered.

“Perhaps,” he mused. “It is known many Princesses of the past have been fond of comely knights and princes from far lands. It would be their dream to be married off.”

“Hugh Meriweather looks more weasel than man.”

The knight looked perplexed, but he did chuckle at your words. “Weasel, you say? I’m unsure there is some tale of a Princess and a weasel.”

Fairy tales are nightmares in reality. Just stories to keep girls happy. You thought. “It isn’t some fairy tale. I have no say in who I can love.” You huffed, crossing your arms. “That is why I’m here. Running away from the fate destined for me; misery, squeezing out babes and dying from childbed fever. You wouldn’t have to worry about being wedded off, you’re just a piece of talking armour.”

The silence that followed your passing words made you realise that you may have overstepped. You peered over at him, and though his face was shielded, you could tell your words had insulted him.

“You’re talking to a piece of talking armour.” He jeered and your cheeks had rouged once more in embarrassment. “What then, little Princess? You believe your father would not find you here?”

“He can sure try to.” You huffed. “I will not leave here.”

If he had eyebrows, you could be sure he had a face of exasperation. “You think you’ll have protection here?”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “You’re here.”

“I’m free from my pact, however.” He recalled.

“What about forming a pact with me? It can’t be that bad.” You said excitedly, too naively to think anything of it. You’ve had knights in service of protecting you your entire life: how different could this be?

“Princess,” his voice was laced with unease. “If you go ahead with this, you will need to sacrifice something of your life.”

Your silence was a tell-tell sign that you were uncertain. Sacrifice something, like what? You thought about the things you had to you: you had no titles to own, no claim to the throne, so you couldn’t give that up (you doubted you would’ve if you did own one). It seemed like an easy deal, yet nothing came to mind for you to give in return, until—

“I shall give you my hand in marriage.”

The knight recoiled almost as if he had been burnt in his ink-black armour, his demeanour changed to seem hesitant, almost incredulous to your offer. “What about Hugh the weasel? You don’t think I’m a married man already?” He asked.

“You wouldn’t be here if you were already married now, would you? You would be with your lady wife.”

He seemed pleased by your words, stepping forth towards you, around the table, before he was standing in front of you. His full height towered easily over you, and you imagined what he looked like without the helmet on him.

“I, swear by my name and honour, to protect and keep you in my stay, for as long as you may live. I am yours, Princess," he says. "I will shield your back and give you my life in the moment of need.”

You easily presented your hand to him to take into his, there was warmth oddly in his armoured fingers, and his obsidian suit of armour hummed and almost felt as if it was burning up on the inside before the knight brought your hand to his lips to place a kiss to your knuckles.

“Arise, sir-“

“Odel. Sir Odel.”

[faulty-writes]

Hello! I really love your work and your representations of the characters, i never seen a mha account write this good.

Could your please do romantic headcanons of iida with a chilhoodfriend? It can be anything you want.

Thank you for such amazing work, i really like your fanfics and how you write the characters.

[ Awe, thank you! I appreciate that you enjoy my writing and support my blog! <3 I hope I did your request justice. ]

The first time you met him, you were five years old, at a meeting, attending a prestigious school for gifted children. Tenya was standing across the room, observing his surroundings with his family, and when the two of you made eye contact, you shyly glanced away while he smiled.

You didn't tend to make friends, and Tenya put people off because of his odd way of speaking and bizarre arm movements. However, you found them endearing, and over the course of your elementary school years, you grew closer and had each other's back.

When the time came for you to advance to the next grade, you felt saddened that you would be separated from Tenya. But fate had other plans, and you, yet again, found yourself attending another school together. You happened to bump into him while trying to navigate through the crowd of fellow students. He was happy to see you. "It's quite astounding that we should meet again! However, I am quite honored to have you by my side once more!"

The two of you shared various hobbies. In fact, it was you who introduced Tenya to the wonders of encyclopedias and since then, he committed to them. Others might think he only read them because of his intelligence but the truth was, he read them because they reminded him of you, his dearest friend.

"I wish to make my family lineage proud and attend Yuuei to become a hero!" You'd be shocked at his confession if it weren't the same thing you wanted to do. But you remained silent as he took your hands, and your heart raced as he looked at you and said, "Forgive me if I am being rather forward. However, I want to request that you enroll at Yuuei as well. Regardless of whether we are separated into different departments does not matter because I do not want to lose you."

It wasn't until you witnessed Tenya during the entrance exams that you realized your attraction to him. His built physique and agility had you smitten, and this was the origin of your feelings for him. Likewise, despite ending up in the general studies department, Tenya's feelings for you shifted into a more romantic sense when he witnessed how hard you worked on your academic studies.

Apart from the obvious mutual attraction you felt for one another, neither of you confessed your feelings for fear of ruining your friendship. But those around you seemed to notice the romantic tension in the air whenever you two were together. Of course, every time someone questioned either of you, there was denial.

The first time you tried to kiss him was during the winter when you slipped and scraped your knee on a patch of ice. Tenya offered to carry you to the bathroom where he could properly dress and treat the scrape. He was so gentle when he was applying antiseptic that you couldn't help but lean forward with the intention to kiss him but ended up bumping heads instead.

Your first actual kiss was during the first-year prom dance, the lighting gave a romantic atmosphere as did the soft music. Tenya looked handsome in his blue suit, and his eyes sparkled in the darkened light. You couldn't help but lean forward, and to your surprise, he followed, and a spark came when your lips collided.

"Are you certain you wish to proceed with this…" he cleared his throat, "step in our relationship?" He was happy that the two of you had shared that wonderful kiss and had, at the same time, nonverbally expressed your feelings for one another. But he was still concerned that romance would ruin your friendship.

You managed to help Tenya through his worries and proved that despite your long-life friendship, the two of you were indeed romantically compatible. It was shortly after this that Tenya began to envision your future together. He, as a pro hero, and you by his side with the potential of expanding the Iida family.

[zkaus]

Daniel's Journey Towards Armand:

"He had been a young reporter, roaming the bars of the world with his tape recorder, trying to get the flotsam and jetsam of the night to tell him some truth."

"Well, one night in San Francisco he had found a magnificent subject for his investigations.

And the light of ordinary life had suddenly gone out."

"Now he was a ruined thing."

"He was an expert on Armand, wasn’t he, he had studied every detail of Armand’s youthful body and face."

"He had never been revolted by Armand, he had to admit it. What he always felt was ravening and hopeless desire."

"Everything would go all right for months as Daniel felt compelled to move from city to city, walking the pavements of New York or Chicago or New Orleans. Then the sudden disintegration. He’d realize he had not moved from his chair in five hours. Or he’d wake suddenly in a stale and unchanged bed, frightened, unable to remember the name of the city where he was, or where he’d been for days before. Then the car would come for him, then the plane would take him home."

"You came back to me because you wanted to, Daniel,” Armand always said calmly, face still and radiant, eyes full of love. “There is nothing for you now, Daniel, except me. You know that. Madness waits out there.”

"I’d rather die than see you die, Daniel.”

“Then give it to me! Damn you! Immortality that close, as close as your arms.”

“No, Daniel, because I’d rather die than do that, too.”

Armand on the pain of loving Daniel

"In time I conceived another love naturally, a love for a mortal boy Daniel, to whom Louis had poured out his story... I later made into a vampire for the same reasons that Marius had made me so long ago: the boy, who had been my faithful mortal companion, and only sometimes an intolerable nuisance, was about to die."

"Daniel himself had no use for the world, and had come to me hungering for our Dark Blood"

"Heaping every luxury upon him, I only sickened him with mortal sweets so that finally he turned away from the riches I offered, becoming a vagabond. Mad, roaming the streets in rags, he shut out the world almost to the point of death,"

"I, weak, muddled, tormented by his beauty, and lusting for the living man and not the vampire he might become, only brought him over to us through the working of the Dark Trick because he would have died otherwise."

"My love for Daniel had never been entirely honest, and always viciously possessive, and quite entangled with my own hatred of the world at large, and my confusion in the face of the baffling modern times"

"That is no mystery unto itself, the making of Daniel. Loneliness will always inevitably press us to such things."

"I was a firm believer that those we make ourselves will always despise us for it."

"There was never any innocence for us, there was never any springtime.There was never any chance, no matter how beautiful the twilight gardens in which we wandered. Our souls were out of tune, our desires crossed and our resentments too common and too well watered for the final flowering"

On Marius caring for Daniel while he was mentally unwell

“. . . I took Daniel with me because he needed me. I took Daniel because it’s unendurable to me to be utterly alone."

“Daniel is very good at putting together the houses. See how intricate they are? This is all that Daniel does now.”

"I’ve come here with Daniel alone. Daniel always needs someone to look after him. It suits me to be near Daniel. Daniel doesn’t have to speak. That he is here is sufficient.”

David on seeing Daniel sane again:

"Quickly, he locked in on his companion: the tall thin boyish young man with the violet eyes and the ashen hair whom Lestat had so aptly called “the Devil’s Minion.” It was Daniel who had interviewed the vampire who was Louis de Pointe du Lac, thereby giving birth unwittingly and innocently enough decades ago to the collection of books known as the Vampire Chronicles.

It was Daniel who’d captured the damaged heart of the Vampire Armand and been brought over by him into Darkness. It was Daniel who had languished for many a year—shocked, deranged, lost, unable to care for himself—in Marius’s care until only a couple of years ago when his sanity, ambition, and dreams had been restored to him."

On Marius loving Daniel

"Marius loved Daniel. He had salvaged Daniel from the aftermath of that storm, and never for one moment regretted it. Marius knew that Daniel had also salvaged him from the same chaos, becoming for Marius someone Marius could care for, someone Marius could personally love. It meant the world to Marius that he was not walking on this beach alone, that Daniel was walking at his side."

"Daniel was a disciplined hunter, master of the Little Drink in a crowd, and a slayer of the evildoer only. Marius was certain of that."

Louis on the reunion of Daniel & Armand

"Armand and Daniel Malloy were out hunting alone in the gentle warm rain."

"[Marius] he'd lost his longtime companion, Daniel Molloy, to Armand again, and these two remained at Court only because of the threat to the Prince, and hoped some night to be free to go to Trinity Gate in New York."

[sillysootyboi]

It's funny how all the traits people praised for being different and quirky become the traits they cite as evidence Wilbur's a wrong'un

And I wonder if Wilbur felt it awaited him. That the loved 'quirky white boy' traits from trauma, from possible existence on the spectrum, from who knows what would become what people loathed

Call Me What You Like:

"I never was a fan of the internet..."

"This just in: I am a total fucking dumbass And I've come to the uncomfortable conclusion that I'm gonna spend the rest of my life in a state Of constant paranoia [...] I'm not paranoid, I'm a realist. I know you're gonna kill me"

And while Golden Hour Somewhere mostly reflects the grief of capitalism/excess wealth, and the music video kind of invokes the period of time where the great depression was in swing and often people in full suits roamed the streets looking for work, it also feels a tad critical of the audience. "They'll tell you this is normal, they'll tell you this is love...They'll sell you the rope by which you hang yourself."

And of course, his more 'joke' songs, The Internet Ruined Me and Soft Boy, where it reflects the grief with parts of himself he knows are crap.

But especially Soft Boy. The cat ears aren't usually put on by partners...it's a good stand-in for the audience woobifying him. I mean, where do cat-ear motifs come from? The fandom. While likely his persona in that song is an exaggeration, it's clearly an image of depression. Also, the repeated themes of craving validation. "Father are you proud of me." And "Mother are you proud of me."

And while the song is sung to a presumed 'partner', most of the repeated sentiment in the song is about being validated by someone, but not in the identity THEY want, instead as The Soft Boy.

Though. I do think there's some truth to the imagery of Soft Boy. "I'm living the dream...if you consider the dream to be haircuts and apathy." As well as reusing dishes and living in "filth." (I can't even condemn it as filth, everyone I know lives with some level of 'I can't be arsed to tidy up right this second.')

I think the way the fandom is behaving now isn't some "surprise." But rather something he felt would happen. That he was just waiting for the moment that 'love' would cannibalize and eat him alive.

Anyway that's just a theory, a game theory. And analysis of song lyrics with hindsight bias.

[unknown-lab]

What is Love?

Pairing: Dazai Osamu x reader

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Cheating

Have you ever once in your life, regardless if you're single or in a relationship, wondered... What love is? How do you get it? What should you do to maintain the love you're having for another person? Throughout my experience, there's one thing for sure.

Love is something that fades easily, only when you're with the wrong person.

The night of our 5th Anniversary.

Food? Done. Table? Well-prepared. Candles? All up. Dress? Gorgeous. Lights? Perfect. Everything, every single detail was not left out. Time was tick-tocking as I was admiring what I had done for the past 5 hours. For him, for us. The only flaw I'm having right now is the empty spot in front of me. It should be occupied 1 hour ago.

I waited

And waited

And waited...

Ah... It's 10 pm now. The candles are all out. The room darkened, and there were only 2 dim lights on top of me. He's a busy man, I guess he'd forgotten about this already. Alright then, there's no sign of his return, I might as well start cleaning up. Although I haven't touched anything on the table, I don't feel hungry. Maybe because I don't have the every to be hungry now.

Front door opens

I was already done with the cleaning. I turned to him, and our eyes met. He looks tired too. I don't want to stress him out further, so I just gave him a smile and turned away, walking toward our bed. It's like he could read my mind, he didn't say anything, he just went into the bathroom and took a shower.

He lies down next to me, both of us turning to the opposite side. He's still next to me, and he smells nice. The scent is different from the shampoo we have in our bathroom. I wonder where did he get it from. I was deep in thought until he broke the silence.

"Sign the papers tomorrow."

Hmm? What papers? Never mind, I'll just ask him tomorrow. I don't know why, I feel more tired than usual tonight.

Oh.

Wow.

This escalated... rather quickly... Dazai. Well, I did expect this to happen sooner or later. I was reading through the divorce papers, making nothing is missed out. Everything right now was peaceful. No quarrels, no fights, just two grown adults doing what adults should be doing.

"I was with her last night. I had been by her side for about half a year, and we're planning to make that official. Hopefully, you would understand." He broke the silence, once again. There weren't any expectations heard from his monotone voice. It's like this is just a procedure to him.

Obviously, I kept quiet. I didn't raise my head to look at him, just the files. They are the only thing I have now. I signed the papers and passed them to him. I went to pack my belongings, making sure to bring everything I had with me. While he's just there, sitting on the couch texting her.

Everything is now at the doorstep, ready to go. For the first time in so long, he showed kindness. He put my luggage into the boot. For a split second, seeing him in his suit made my heart skip a beat. How long has he not worn that? It was the one I bought for him on our 1st anniversary. And I know for sure, it's his favourite.

"You can go now, I'll deal with the papers myself. Nothing will go wrong." This is more of an assurance to himself than to me.

"Did you know what day was yesterday?" I looked at him, unfiltered words just came out of my mouth.

"Yeah. It was our 5th Anniversary." He said nonchalantly.

Out of all the things I've thought of, this was the last of all that I could possibly expect. I was expecting a no, regardless he was lying or not. The fact that he knew everything, he knew I was waiting for him, he knew he had to come back, he knew it was our anniversary. This is the trigger that is preparing to fire.

"Then why were you absent?"

"She said wanted me to stay with her."

I could imagine the girl in her sweet voice, holding his hand or hugging him tightly. Begging him to stay with her, just to ruin our moment.

Bravo. Tears formed at the corner of my eyes, slowly rolling down my cheek. Through the blurry vision, I saw a young man in his favourite suit, running towards me. He hugged me and said:

"It's alright, I'd do anything if it's for you."

[feefymo]

The Rorchach Effect - Part 2

Jimmy Darling x fem! reader - NSFW • MDNI word count: 3035 author's note: Smut Time? Friendly reminder: I'm very paranoid and very not english. As a first approach, I preferred to write in present tense(?) to make my work easier. I hope it still turns out to be effective and... engaging, cough cough. warnings: there's mainly masturbation and how do you say that? Tits-fuck? - What a bitch, look at this… ! - Jimmy sneers, bouncing on Elsa's mattress. Taking advantage of the party, we entered her tent and, if that wasn't enough, we are making use of her things. In this regard, Jimmy caresses the fabric of the dressing gown that he stole from her and which he shows off with a light-hearted air. Standing a few steps away from him, I giggle and perform a pirouette. Needless to say, I'm also wearing a designer dressing gown. We are not in a building, no armored door protects us but neither of us seems to care. Anyone could catch us red-handed, Elsa herself, and yet here we are, flirting as if we hadn't eaten each other's faces off just now. - That purple suits you… - I state halfway between a good-natured joke and absolute conviction. The piece of clothing on Jimmy makes me laugh and, at the same time, makes my brain go crazy. He barely fits in it but he still thought it made sense to tie the robe loosely at the waist. On the other hand, I swim in the celestial fabric, making Jimmy hungry and impatient. He wishes he could peek more - better - but I purposely wrap my arms around myself. He can see a small part of my cleavage as well as my legs, from the knees down. I can't stay still, so I move around Mommy Elsa's room because I'm nervous. I try to distract myself but the situation is electric and, deep down, I feel embarrassed for my skin. - Hey, miss? Stop for a while, you're making me seasick! - Jimmy addresses me. The tone of voice is loving and understanding: he knows that I do this when I'm upset and he probably imagines the reasons too. He himself is revved up, sitting with his back straight on the edge of the mattress. - Hey, miss - I mock him, raising an eyebrow - You've never shown off such a correct posture in your life. - I add, approaching him with bare steps. I pose as a high-class woman while I smoke the remains of Elsa's cigarette. I puff a cloud of silver onto Jimmy's perfect features, and he leans in to bite into it and catches me off guard. I fall into a seat on Elsa's boudoir stool and we both laugh until the laughter fades into the silence of a long stare. - Y/N, you're beaut… - - Don't say that. - - What? Why? - - I'm sorry, I'm… I'm not that good at encouraging when it comes to me… - I inhale deeply with a bitter smile. - Are you talking about your skin? - he ask in a murmur, tilting his curly head to the side. He leans his torso in my direction and it's natural for me to close my thighs. It's not the embarrassment I thought it was, but rather a bubble of warmth that suddenly forms in my belly that I try to trap. I see his hand, the one I treated for him, lingering in the act of touching me. He closes and reopens it, searching my face for answers. I just nod. - Do you know what your skin looks like? - he asks, creating a suspense that I am about to ruin. - The coat of a cow? - Jimmy twists into a grimace: he understands the irony but splashes on me the remnants of Elsa's favorite liquor, that he brazenly drank. - Do you know when the summer sun is at its zenith but you are sheltered by the foliage of the trees? Then many pieces of shadow and light are created and… and that's you. - I don't know if he realizes how poetic the concept he has just expressed is, gesturing and looking for the right words. I stare at him with adoring eyes and my mouth slightly ajar, so he coughs and takes a breath. He's going to add something.

Can you touch me? - I'll nip it in the bud. - Can you… touch me, please? Calmly, trace the outlines of the lights and shadows you mention. I want those hands on me. I want to… venerate them. - the moment I pronounce the verb "venerate", Jimmy just flinches. That single sentence has the power to give a shock to his cock, which gradually awakens beneath the silk and, I notice, it twitches slightly. Besides robes, we don't wear anything. - I can. - Jimmy confirms after what seems like an eternal silence. I think he wanted to give me some kind of speech but he prefers to look at me while he slides to his knees. - Do you know how many times I touched you "by mistake"? - he tease. I lose control of my breathing in response: the legs, still locked and contracted, are delicately stripped from the edges of the garment. - Yes. - no, I don't really know but I understand what he means. The same goes for me. As he looks at me, I'm afraid he's thinking: "if I put my hands there, I'll ruin everything". Then I grab the wrist of his good hand and lead him to my left knee. My thighs are shaking but now it's a dispassionate invitation to redesign myself. So he does it. He begins to touch my shins with his fingertips. He leans over to blindly caress the calves and then up. Higher up.

This is the geographical map of Heaven. - he whispers on my mouth, swallowing an excess of saliva. He tries not to look down, positioning himself between my knees for better access to my lips. Suck the lower one slowly; the lip bleached by the disease to which Jimmy gives pigment through his heat. Slowly, he bends through my tremors until I can only see the tangle of his chestnut honey-colored curls. His fingers, now hidden by the fabric hanging from my shoulders, circumnavigate the dark areas of my hips until they imprint themselves on my breasts. The contact electrifies him, so he lets out a moan similar to a shock. He's found in a particular position: he resembles the statue of someone about to prostrate themselves in prayer, with their arms outstretched in the act of pinching my nipples and his lips dangerously close to my mons Veneris. - I'm not a two-flavor ice cream. - I flounder, resorting to a form of reluctance opposed to my pounding desire. He knows these impulsive reactions of mine are often dictated by fear, so he spies on me from below with dilated pupils. It invites me to fall into it - It's not good. My taste. - - Yes it is. - - It's n- … - - Sssssh… - the onomatopoeia rustles against my clit, forcing me to moan in exasperation. As if that wasn't enough, Jimmy doesn't need a voice to urge me to let him do it. He shakes his head: "enough", "no", rubbing left and right his nose and mouth over my heat. I don't think I've ever loved a nod as much as I do right now. I could comfortably enjoy his ministrations, but instead, I stand on tiptoe and peer at him with wide eyes. I imagine my short, quick, sharp breaths hitting his relaxed eyelids. His thick eyelashes. I didn't realize that my hands had become guardians of his and clung to them without the slightest discomfort. - How much… how much would I owe you if I were at one of those Tupperware parties? - I feel him smile against my pussy as he goes back to drawing quirky little things to keep my skin spots company. I see his eyebrows raise eloquently, a sign that he is regaining confidence. - Oh, very much. - he replies after a century. - All. - but I don't have time to provoke him as his rascal tongue marks ring after ring around my clit before kissing it and going down. He spoils my slit as if he were looking for the key to penetrate my cunt and, once he finds it, he does. - Mmh, my God Y/N. Mmmy God, you are so good that I don't want to eat or drink anything else anymore. - I never had the certainty that we would end up like this but now I can admit that I hoped so. Much. I lean blindly against Elsa's boudoir and knock over a bottle of perfume. An eye pencil rolls to the floor. I don't know what to do, I feel like I'm going insane as I reach behind Jimmy's head and push him towards me. I move my hips a couple of times before pressing myself hard on his face. I remain still and his muffled groan precedes his now firm grip on the flesh of my wet thighs. I dodge it in dizziness because this isn't how I want to come and I'm already incredibly close. Confused, glittering with my own juices on his frown, he observes me: he shines like an obscene star, prostrate to my will and not satisfied, however I have another idea.

Give it to me. - it's an order wrapped in velvet. I am peremptory in asking him to give me his hand which, under the passage of my thumbs, I open and extend, staring at it intensely. I spy on him like a voyeur in the "V" space that is created between the two fused segments of his "claws" and I smile mischievously at him before licking the junction point. Slowly, so that he realizes my intention. I go up a wet trail and go over it again as if I were actually writing the twenty-second letter of the alphabet. Then I dedicate myself to the palm, lapping it with my flat tongue as if it were a blueberry popsicle, my favorite. He is astonished, his mouth half-open in an expression that is initially stunned, then reshaped into an erotic drama that I could stare at for hours. Incredulous, he partly follows my movements, partly glances at me: his chin jutting forward and his eyebrows going from desperate to frowning. His body performs in two small jerks that induce him to stand up straight but still kneeling. - Oh, fuck dollface… - he hisses at the exact moment I swallow two of his fingers. There is something that he doesn't understand and that makes him restless. I slide along the joined phalanges and there is not a shadow of disgust on me. On the contrary, I spread my legs wide so that Jimmy notices that I am increasingly wetter. - I feel that… it's as if you were doing it to my cock… - he admits destabilized, unable to hold back the phantom spasms in his lower abdomen. He doesn't notice but, at my pace, he seeks friction in the scented air of Elsa's quarters. In nothing. This only adds to my pleasure, causing me to moan and bite his knuckles. - Ah! But how do you do it?! - I have no idea, I'm just hungry for him and the salivation increases like in the jaws of the wolf. I completely drench his hand, then place it on the stool before sitting back down. Jimmy nods with an expression that doesn't bode well, so he comes closer. - Just do it. Rub into my hand, do it. - he grabs my shoulder and presses me down but he doesn't control the undulations of my pelvis. I spontaneously begin to fuck the aforementioned hand in its entire length, from the wrist to the nails. Back and forth, as if on a swing that has nothing pure or childish about it. I abandon myself to a dotted moan that I address to the ceiling and my body memorizes JD's flesh. The scars, the veins, the rough and atypical paths. - N-now… - I meow crypticly, in a voice too low for him to immediately understand. He looks at me ecstatically, he stopped himself from doing anything and wonders how he managed it but now he's eager to understand what I want. - Now? What "now", honey? - he attacks my neck, repeating itself and making it even more difficult for me to stay clear. - Stick… stick them. Stick your gorgeous fingers inside me. - I'm begging him breathlessly and I wrap him in a hug so heartfelt that it seems my salvation depends on it. A sigh of relief hits my ear as a feeling of fullness creeps up on me. I try to pronounce his name but a lump in my throat prevents me. He compensates, spelling mine. - You're a goddess. - he studies me, curling his fingers against the exact point that makes me squirm. The robe miraculously hung on my now practically naked body, offered to Jimmy. The Lobster Boy is clear about which buttons to touch and insists on looming over my figure, which completely melts onto the carpet. - Jimmy… Jimmy… slowly, don't… I don't want it to end right away! - a voiceless laugh escapes him, too enthusiastic to censor it. We've waited too long, so he moves me on the bed like I'm cotton candy and lies on top of me, piercing me relentlessly.

I can do it again. - stab - And again. - stab - And again. Let yourself go, love… - he invites me not to hold back, adding his thumb to the bittersweet torture that has transformed me into an anthropomorphic wave. Jimmy would drown in it and so he does, kissing me with the transport of when he sings. He basically does this skimpy dance with me that allows him to rub up against me. Against his own hand rummaging perfectly through the folds of my impending orgasm. - I don't know… I don't know what… AH! - something in me is torn. Even before Jimmy can address his concern to me, I am overcome by a tsunami of ecstasy I have never faced before. The discordant note of the cry with which I come copiously, squirting on my lover, is added to the music of the event. Jimmy has the urge to get run over and so, stunned, he relieves himself. He urges me through clenched teeth as my essence drips down his stomach, hiding in his pubic hair and sliding down his muscular thighs. I stare at him, face blushed violently, out of breath or words. JD, dazed, uses my wetness to masturbate himself. - Is that what you want? Look at them. - he breathy refers to his hands; one slides along his lenght and the other caresses my shiny belly in the tumult of the night. He can't believe it, he is driven by the arousal he no longer masters. I am. For this reason, he bends over to briefly follow his gestures but then returns to observe me with pleading eyes. Shocked, I climb up his ivy-like body to kiss him intensely, then squat on the mattress. - Give those hands a rest. - I invite him again, prey to my own breath. I welcome his erection between my breasts, guarding it jealously in a coming and going that in a few seconds makes the boy tremble. - Y/N, fuck, Y/N if you don't… if you don't want me to-… - - Shut up and come, idiot. Give me everything. - - Fuckfuckfuck… ! -

He doesn't need to be told twice. Exhaling a bestial groan in his passionate humanity, he rests his knees against the bed frame. His head falls back and Elsa's robe - that barely acts as a cloak - comes off the sweaty skin of his back. That purple and expensive detail that dresses his non-existent modesty makes the scene one of the most amazing I've ever witnessed. I gaze at him in total adoration as his boyish features twitch and pearly splashes sign my bliss. Face, collarbones, shoulders. Jim, in the grip of his latest convulsions, holds my hair in his fists. He has no voice to make himself heard but he steps back slightly and chuckles while cursing. He peels off Elsa's robe and uses it to clean up first me, then himself, grinning evilly as he wraps the fabric around his cock. - Uh, that's what "normal people" do. - I comment, excited by his bold choice. - Elsa will be happy to find out that the birthday boy had fun. - he pants, throwing the dirty garment on the bed. - Leave yours there too. - he invites me to imitate him and then take me by the hand pulling me up. Tight in a naked embrace, we follow the distant trail of a well-known song, staring at each other with soapy eyes. A few seconds of paradise finally found in four arms, until a creaking alarms us. - Come on, it's time to get to stepping. - Jimmy says, picking up our clothes around the tent. I help him, complaining: - Oh, no. Are we ready to leave forever? - he, for a moment, forgets the possibility of being caught and stares at me intensely. - We are. - immediately afterwards we threw ourselves out of the back exit, immersed in a clandestine darkness. I feel his warmth. His breathing. Our fingers intertwine. - We are - he repeats - but we are not finished here. - I remain silent while I get dressed, I let the buzz of the nocturnal insects speak for me. - Is that so? - I ask, finally. Jimmy re-fastens his trousers, while I scan the summery contours of his beauty. - No. I have to fuck you first in all the places that made us sad. Making love for real, anywhere, until the fucking circus collapses. Then… we'll leave. - I grab his injured hand and threaten the burnt skin without the real intention of hurting him. - Promise me. - - They'll cut off my hands if I lie. - - Happy Birthday, Lobster Boy. - Ladies and Gentlemen: I found Jimmy Darling.

taglist: @taintandviolent @silverzoomies @doll3tt33 @wh0re43van @fear-is-truth @lacucarachapisser + Please, If you want to be added or I forgot someone, let me know!

[aechii]

₍⁠₍ ONE OF US (2) ₎⁠₎

{read part 1 here}

PAiRiNG ?! kylian x black!femreader

GENRE ?! romance, fluff (😞)

SYNOPSiS ?! it's kylian's wedding day, and he knows it never gets better than this

C/W ?! she/her pronouns used, just fluff and romance and a tad bit of swearing cos it's me writing?!?!?!?

A/N ?! the all anticipated sequel to one of us!! man, i've hit a writer's block and idk what's going on with my writing but i'm trying to get rid of it so that's that. i would like to dedicate this to @blubffsd (who has unfortunately left tumblr, but i will always hold them dear to my heart). they've asked for this many a time, and it sucks that i released it after they departed from this hellsite. wherever you are blub, i hope you're happy!

enjoy all my wonderful consumers readers :)

“are you ready?”

the voice comes from behind kylian, but his attention remains on the mirror before him. [y/n] had chosen the suit for him, said that the colour suited him, and as he scrutinises himself, he can’t help but wonder what she looks like in her dress. it elevates his heartbeat and he has to huff out a heavy sigh to wash away the light-headedness.

“kylian?”

background noise seeps into his ears once again, and the loud seems to come with more clarity, and concern. his head turns, seeing his brother in the same style suit as him, but rather in a dark shade of blue. 

“you good?”

he faces the mirror, scans himself as his body begins to feel hot and the tie around his neck seems to tighten its hold. kylian slowly shakes his head, exhaling, “i’m so fucking nervous.”

ethan chuckles, landing a hand on his brother’s shoulder as he moves to stand beside him. kylian watches him and is succumbed by a thick wave of wistfulness; his brother succeeds his height, shoulders barely touching and his mind can’t fathom how time has flown past them. 

he still can’t believe he’s getting married today. 

“wedding nerves– it’s normal, bro,” ethan tells him, and kylian snickers in retort. 

“since when did you know so much about weddings?”

“well,” ethan slides his hands into his pockets, rocking on his feet, “when you have two siblings who are married- or getting married- you learn a lot of things.”

kylian nods understandingly, and trickles out a sigh for the umpteenth time.

“you’ll be fine, kylian,” ethan comforts, “[y/n] loves you more than i’ve ever seen anyone love someone- truth be told, you’re lucky.”

kylian can’t deny that. [y/n]’s presence in his life has changed him in a way that’s gratifying, and without her, it’s hard to visualise how he would cope. a love story that they would call, truthfully, unintentional, but undeniably destined. 

“i am, aren’t i?”

ethan doesn’t hesitate to nod profusely, “yeah, you are.”

their father calls them from the door as he enters. his forehead is sheened with sweat and sounds of bustling chatter from the living room bleeds inside then muffles again as he shuts himself in. 

wilfried smiles, finds it hard to withstand the unrelenting tears as he sees his son clad in the crisp, black suit. it wasn’t long ago, in his mind, that kylian played his first ever football match, reaching no more than his knees. and as much as his status quo gets now, he’s about to marry the girl who he could never have approved more of.

“you look- wow,” kylian’s father softly grips his son’s arms before smoothing out an odd crease drawn into his coat. 

“you’ll make me cry, papa, stop,” kylian humours out and wilfried joins him in laughter. 

“it’s just- i can’t believe you’re getting married already.”

“me too,” kylian adjusts his tie, but his father slaps his hand away. “i just cleaned up your shirt, don’t ruin it again.”

his son smiles, albeit wobbly, “sorry, papa.”

wilfried stretches out his arm, twisting it to check the watch circling his wrist.

“it’s nearly time. just about 10 minutes ‘til we have to leave.”

kylian feels a soft tremble oscillate through his skin and he fans himself as if it does anything. his father watches him as he does so, grinning.

“you remind me of how i was,” wilfried recounts, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “almost had a panic attack before we left.”

kylian looks at him, mildly intrigued, “really?”

“the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree, kylian,” ethan jokes as he claps his brother on the shoulder, and it makes kylian shake his head, smiling. 

“it’s normal, ethan,” their father corrects, “it’ll be you soon.”

kylian turns to ethan, whose eyes trace elsewhere as he begins to blush. he chuckles at the sight, poking his brother’s cheek.

“don’t be shy now,” kylian says as he smirks and ethan fights back his own grin, nudging his brother’s touch away. 

wilfried watches on and his heart feels heavy in his chest. just one son left. he can’t believe it. 

he retains himself from getting overly emotional, ascending from his seat, “we should get going now. your mum will be angry if we don’t get there on time, you know her.”

kylian and ethan emit sounds of agreement, walking to the door. ethan exits first, and kylian stays behind trying to gather as much composure as he can.

“i’m proud of you, kylian,” his father voices, and it bleeds so much joy and pride that kylian begins to feel choked up. 

“thank you, papa,” kylian shakily expresses. he attempts to shake off the nerves, yet it proves to be fruitless, again. 

“god- i feel like i’m about to pass out.”

“it’s all normal, kylian. you’ll be fine, i can assure you.”

“i know, but,” he pauses, shutting his eyes for a few seconds, “i don’t think i’ll survive seeing [y/n] in her dress.”

wilfried grins so widely, he feels his cheek muscles ache. like father, like son.

“believe me, i know.”

+_-

he’s absolutely trembling. it’s so palpable that one of his groomsmen, brice, has checked on him at least twice now. he had responded with the usual, automated affirmative that he’s fine, but he truly is anything but. it’s been more than 5 minutes since the service was supposed to start, but the bride, his bride, was yet to arrive. 

he glances at his father who looks back at him, and his face doesn’t release his smile. it’s subtle reassurance, and he musters a small smile back just as the hall doors begin to glide open with an old rumble. 

and kylian swears his heart stops. he can’t hear the congregation stand and turn as she proceeds down the aisle. he can’t feel his mind frenzy, even though he knows it does, nor can he feel his hands that will, soon, bear the weight of the unifying ring. his eyes are stuck, stitched to the sight of his to-be wife completely encompassed in an ethereal cloud of white, and for a second, he thinks he’s being visited by an angel from heaven. 

before he knows it, he’s crying. tears of abundant happiness overflow as much as he tries to blink them away but he allows them to because he finds it almost prohibited to look away. ethan stands beside him, handing him a handkerchief, and he’s ever so grateful for his grounding presence right there and then. 

“she’s beautiful. so, so beautiful,” he mutters in tangent. his heart quickens the nearer she gets and he senses ethan bringing a hand to his back. 

then she stands right in front of him. and he stares. stares for what seems like centuries that pass until his brother whispers in his ear, “remove her veil, kylian. i have to go.”

it spurs his movement, shaking him from his reverie, and both hands, vibrating, pinch the sides of the lace, lifting and placing it behind her hair. 

he feels like he’s punched. again.

she smiles so gorgeously at him, and it’s like he’s fallen in love all over again. 

“hi.”

he breathes out slowly, gently interlocking their hands.

“hey.”

the priest begins his welcome and the usual protocol. when he asks the crowd if there were to be any objections, he holds his breath. he’s not aware of anyone being against them, but he knows that it happens more than one could think. silences engulfs the room and the priest, to his relief, breaks it as he proceeds with the service. 

his mind and ears block out everything after that and his gaze never leaves [y/n]’s otherworldly stature. every now and then, he squeezes her hands, just to make sure she’s really here, and she always returns the gesture, as if she reads his mind. 

he’s dazed when a hand comes up to touch his cheek, and his conscience zooms back into the present. 

“you with me, love?”

he nods absentmindedly and the congregation collectively chuckle at him. 

“i think you’ll have to say it again,” [y/n] jokingly tells the priest, and kylian, eyes wide, turns to him.

“i missed the vows?”

“it’s okay, kylian,” he smiles gently, “i’ll read them out again.”

kylian nods, this time, unmasking his ears to hear the words that he knows he’ll agree to wholeheartedly.

“kylian mbappe, do you take this woman to be your wife, to live together in holy matrimony, to love her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?"

his response is instantaneous, “i do.”

the priest tilts himself towards [y/n], “[y/n] [l/n] do you take this man to be your husband, to live together in holy matrimony, to love him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?"

“i do.”

kylian feels the tears gather as the priest utters the words he’s been waiting for, for the past 10 months. 

“i now pronounce you mr and mrs mbappe. kylian, you may kiss the bride.”

as their families cheer, holler and cry tears of utmost joy, his lips find his wife’s, both barely able to contain their grins. 

and at the back of kylian’s mind, he envisions a picture of this very moment, framed in gold and mounted upon the wall of his mother’s house.

just like [y/n] had wanted.

[poisonedprose]

Hiya! Ignore if you want but I too think there's been too much smut as of late so here's my lil idea:

The Other Woman. (x 141 dude of choice)

For once the reader is taking the backseat. The reader watches the guy they've secretly fallen in love with, love someone else.

Maybe it's a party/get together setting. Reader is across the room watching the interactions unfold bc that's all they could do choosing to not ruin a perfectly good friendship.

₊˚✧ three ice cubes — in which simon is the one who got away

simon 'ghost' riley x gn!reader

warnings: 0.7kk words, angst, self deprocation, flirty old man, idk

masterlists

The ice in the glass of wine in your hand had melted long ago. You should have listened when all the older folks told you not to add those three pesky ice cubes. The taste is almost even more unbearable than it was before. But you weren't paying much attention to the beverage, your eyes were only focused on one thing. And that thing was flirting with another woman.

Ghost, or rather Simon Riley, well, there really wasn't much to say about him. He was a mysterious man but that didn't stop you from stupidly falling in love with him. You knew it was a suicide mission, falling in love with the one man you could never have. You were playing a fool's game, trying to win first place, but was there even a prize? 

He took her hand, you watched with intent eyes, your grip on the glass tightening. You were never one to keep your composure. She seemed so different than you, polar opposites. It urked you like nothing else ever has. You knew there were more important things to worry about, like the mission you were currently on, like finding the target which was the whole point of this party, but nothing else seemed greater as he led her to the dance floor. 

He looked nice for once, his suit pressed perfectly on his body. But you couldn't focus on what he looked like when she was right there. God, you couldn't even blame him for choosing her. You'd choose her too. They danced to the slow song that played and while her head rested on his shoulder he scanned the room, looking for the target. His eyes land on you though. You don't look away, simply sending him a small nod before taking a sip of the alcohol in your hands. 

He doesn't reciprocate the nod, he just stares. His expression was unreadable, as always. The two of you lock eyes. You can't help but feel dirty, looking at him with lust and love while his hands were on his girlfriend's waist. She was a nice person, she didn't deserve this. But neither did you.

You sigh and look away, turning your body to walk into the kitchen. You push the door open, walking in with little to no motive but with the way your hips swung, you looked determined. The kitchen was almost empty, save for a few older men playing poker on the island, with empty beer bottles littered all around them. One of them looked up at you, sending you a toothy grin. Was he flirting? 

You don't even bother trying to acknowledge it, he would never be Simon. It's like, without even meaning to, he ruined your perception of every other man to ever walk the earth. You sighed as you dumped the wine down the sink, setting the glass on the counter. You needed to focus, on things that mattered and not on Simon and his lover. He had every right to fall in love with her, he didn't owe you anything. 

It stung, knowing that no matter what you did, you could never win over his cold heart. It almost makes you regret everything you've done to try and please him. You wrecked yourself over and over again to get him to see you but none of it ever caught his attention. You were the only one playing the fool's game, but still, somehow you were still in last place. It seemed you'd never know if there was a prize to win. 

It was okay for now, it had to be. Your friendship with him had to be enough. You weren't going to ruin someone's life because of your own selfish needs. There would be other men for you, or maybe there wouldn't. Only time could tell what was to come, and maybe time would bring you Simon. With every passing second a sliver of your hope was shattered but with every passing minute twice the hope was restored. 

It felt like an endless game, starting for champions. You couldn't blame the 'game' though, the only one who turned you into a fool was yourself. You pour yourself another glass of wine, filling it only halfway before grabbing three ice cubes and dropping them into the glass. They float around, two ice cubes frozen together. They seemed to be hugging for warmth, and the other was far away. And every time it tried to get closer, swimming in the wine to reach the others, they would swim farther. It was an endless chase.  

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎┊ㅤㅤ💋 ㅤㅤ ﾟㅤㅤ ┊‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎

[spurious]

HELLO feel free to ignore this obviously but you seem like the best person to ask - i’ve had a shitty week and am in desperate need of mcshep fic recs. what are the coziest most sweetest soppiest saddest ones youve ever read???

I am so sorry to hear you’ve had a bad week anon!!!!!!! Let me grab some of my best Warm Blanket fics for you 💖

Painted Blind by aadarshinah

John rather thinks he would know if he and Rodney were dating.

Or: Idiots in love, take twelve.

This one is soooo sweet and funny and THEM

I Do by cathalin

The feeling expands and grows and words are pushing up his throat, and he finds himself speaking. “Is that a promise?”

This is just. 🥹🥰🙏💖

Comfort Break by @salchat

On the usual mission-gone-wrong, John and Rodney are hiding in a ruined house. John is hurt and being overly stoic about it as usual and Rodney wants John to admit to being in pain and accept his help. They talk.

Rodney being caring in his stubborn, bullheaded Rodney way 💖

four boots, five thousand two hundred and eighty feet by Pares

"So what you're saying is, learning to love yourself really is the greatest love of all!"

Just a really fun, well-written, sexy body swap fic.

In Plain Sight by lamardeuse

The day they repealed Don't Ask, Don't Tell, Rodney marched into John's office and dragged him out.

Soooooo romantic I love this one!!!

Number Theory by Valdomarx

On another version of Atlantis, John is a mathematician who is better with numbers than with people.

But he's going to have to learn to get on with his team and their bossy leader, Rod, if he wants to survive here.

Set in the parallel universe from McKay and Mrs. Miller.

Hard-won and gradual vulnerability with a lot of team feels!

Monomial Factors by anonymous

Rodney wants a cat. John's always been a dog guy.

SOOOOO sweet this one.

The Reverse of Fascination by shrift

"I only have one idea left," Rodney said, because the situation was dire. It was desperate. It was this, or Rock Paper Scissors, and he didn't have a handy copy of the official strategy guide.

One of those fics where you can just HEAR the dialogue

Loop the Loop by alsaurus

One man's quest to comfort a friend. And maybe himself, just a little.

(AKA the one where John takes Rodney out on a million dates without realizing it.)

One of my absolute FAVES. This one is SO good and SO sweet and SO them!!!

The Suite Life by CartWrite

John did not ask to sprain his ankle, to be reassigned to the best quarters in Atlantis, or for Rodney McKay to become his new neighbor. But that’s what happened. Post-series.

Bit of a longer read but GOD is it worth it. Absolute comfort fic, it’s SO good.

Bare by @alienfuckeronmain

“Did you not know,” Teyla says carefully, shooting a concerned look at Ronon over their mostly empty plates, “that Lt. Colonel Sheppard enjoys the company of—”

“No, I did not!” Rodney manages to grit out, sucking in air desperately before grabbing his glass of water and downing it. “Since fucking when?!”

According to my ao3 history I’ve revisited this 79 times. Rodney thinking he’s homophobic when in fact he’s jealous is SUCH a good amazing trope. Also the sex scene in this is SO incredibly good 🫠

Okay I’m stopping there but like, if anyone wants to reblog with their own fluffy faves for this anon? Yes!