#I am a lazy motherfucker

[cohozuna]

one of the biggest things i had to come to grips with art wise is that i can do realism pretty well but just completely fail at anything stylized. sure i can make a pretty picture from what i see but what does it matter when the only thing people take from it is "waow so good thought it was a picture" yeah its a compliment but its one that makes me feel awful bc i realize i do not want my shit to look like a picture. i FUCKING SUUUUCK at drawing and that isnt me being hehe quirky artist who says they cant draw and actually can i mean this shit is difficult as fuck and nobody would understand the extent to how awful i am at actually drawing unless they see me try to. all of my finished pieces were absolutely painstaking and i see ppl do the stuff that takes me many hours much quicker and with more personality with about the same experience shit makes me insane i am trying to learn but my god its like my brain just does not want to cooperate with me it makes it so so hard because i just have an awful mental block. genuinely used to just draw effortlessly (albeit not as well so at least i AM improving somewhat) but now even the simplest shit just overwhelms me. idk what it is. i like to think im pretty good with paintings but god it is so so difficult to do what i wanna without it taking far too long. i am so jealous of ppl who can do quality sketches on a whim. ive noticed i do a lot better blocking out a silhouette and then drawing lines over that when i sketch. makes me think im just not very line-brained?? stupid way to put it idgaf its 5 am. i dont wanna just whinge and cry about it but it is truly aggravating and so deeply frustrating to feel like im regressing in my ability to Just Draw because its undoubtedly a psychological thing. ive just been in this rut for yrs now its awful. thinking about buying a sketchbook again tbh

[youreaclownnow]

loved char’s robe look in counterattack

[luv-assangiebatch]

I am attempting to design my would-be Assangie plushie-- definitely needs more practice and I really suck at drawing chibi styles but it's a start. I honestly prefer my "pocket sized" style, so I want to try and make more of those.

My would-be plushie will either be in the Pirate Bay or maroon hoodie outfit, though. ❤️. I just went with this outfit for something different.

[trenchcrows]

so I forgot that I had my teeth ground down yesterday and ate a cookie

[callsignbaphomet]

[sunset-unbound]

i feel so fucking upset and i hate that my reaction has to be building a sound argument for the eventuality that i am more irascible than usual because god fucking forbid i have a feeling that manifests in an unpleasant or neutrally unpositive way

[area51-escapee]

Loses my fucking shit because somebody told me not to shower between time A and time B so I waited but when I went to shower they were showering after time B so now I have to wait even longer

[scruus]

nobody can convince me sylus behaves like That bc he's a "dom" that man is clearly a brat asking to get punished mc just doesn't want to acknowledge it bc she thinks he's a weirdo already

people can delude themselves as much as he wants saying “oooh he is such a daddy!” or “thats a sadistic dom right there” all absolute bullshit. Did people forget the shine in his eyes when MC challenged him??? When she pressed her foot on his dick and he literally went “raise the stakes” ???? DID PEOPLE NOT SEE THAT???

this man wants the absolute filthy sex ever. I am not hearing anyone out. Slap his fucking face and cock till blood seeps out of his lips because he is tryna suppress his moans, uk tryna not look “weak” but with the way his eyes are rolling back and his lips are twitching into a lazy grin, this man is the biggest masochist.

He definitely likes to adorn the hickeys and bruises on him the next day, you know? Running his fingers along his neck and sides, pressing on the light bruise as the pain courses through his body and his dick twitches in his pants.

God he wants you to absolutely fucking break him. But be aware. He wont back down without a fight.

After all, its sylus. Motherfucking leader of N109 zone and your personal painslut <3

[curiosity-killed]

Epilogue: pointe was almost indubitably a bad idea but it felt so good (minus the pain and swelling) 😔

i did not get full-named but it was a close call

[ALT ID: A two panel comic of someone sitting on a couch drinking coffee and talking on the phone. In the first panel, they are saying, "Just chilling, enjoying a quiet Saturday TBH" while another speech bubble, labeled 'sister on phone' reads, "Yeah, I figured you weren't dancing given the ankle stuff." The second panel shows the person in the same position but their face has squished into an awkward expression. A label next to their head reads "Went to class both of the past 2 days (& is signed up for tomorrow)."]

[cupids-chamber]

@. People I would cheat on my boyfriend with.. . ♡ Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Genshin version ## Low quality and low effort slides because finals sucks!

. ROOK HUNT ;

Odd smile or grin, I mean Rook always has this ridiculous oui oui bitch smirk grin on his motherfucking face, but today? It was different. It was more huter-y if that’s even a word. 

The moment you turn away, Rook’s glaring at your pc as you open the slides, as if it’s his mortal enemy.

Bro looks like a fucking hitman with the looks he’s putting out. His facial expression radiates wtf energy.

Aww so sweet, so cute mon cherie..—Now change the fucking slides.

"What's on the next slide my sweet?"

Run bitch run.

Why are you hiding your screen

what is there to hide

you have nothing to hide

what do you even need to hide.

Why hide.

Communication is key :)

. VIL SCHOENHEIT ;

Lowkey glaring at you while you explain the slides, like 'excuse you fuckass am I not good enough for you?'

Will start getting passive aggressive, calm? What is calm? Is there anything truly ‘calm’ in this world?... He’s patiently waiting.. For the slides to load… Standing, posing like your mom outside your door with a sandal core. 

Slowly becoming a nagging housewife as he insults your slow as fuck computer. 

Begins fucking scrolling immediately, legit scoots you over.

Truthfully you're more surprised he didn’t question the picture you choose for the cover but his pacing is lowkey scaring you? You did this on a dare.. And you put a 50 slide gap.. And Vil was going through each slide fast… Hell you even put a compliment on each slide. 

Stroking your little beauty queens ego always worked… except now.. He’s been remarkably quiet.. And that is surprisingly more unnerving and unsettling than anything else VIl could possibly do.. 

Well you’ve done it now.. He’s mumbling.. With gritted teeth, he’s not even glaring.. And frankly you don’t want to see his facial expression. 

And then he starts laughing.. But not laughing in like “LMFAOO LOL SO HILARIOUS”  but more of a lowkey “I’m going to kill you”

“Potato… care to explain a few things?” 

“I- ugh.. um.. have an appointment”

“Not anymore”

. LEONA KINGSCHOLAR ;

Kitty’s got claws, bro finna commit a crime.

Just looks at you and smiles. ‘I control my emotions, my emotions don’t control me’ core 

Was therapy working? Probably not his lazy ass avoids them like the common flu.

You saw his expression soften for a moment and you lean in and give him a hug. Effectively distracting him.. and then you scroll like God’s given you 20 fucking seconds to live and breath.

“WHAT THE FUCK HERBIVORE??” and then the screen fades to Malleus.. 

And then it automatically scrolls to Rook...

"..."

Oh you fucked up.

© cupids-chamber, do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation.

[howdoyouwhiskit]

*deep breath* so I’ve been meaning to make a big post about House re:mobility aids and chronic pain treatment for a LONG time so here we go this is gonna be a long ride that probably won’t make a lot of sense in regards to a linear narrative so buckle up motherfuckers

Disclaimer: I am disabled, have chronic pain, and am an ambulatory mobility aid user. I have experience using a cane, forearm crutches, a rollator, and a walker. I understand everyone’s experiences are different. I am writing this from my personal experience with mobility aids which may influence some interpretations of things

Let’s start with the obvious one, House uses his cane wrong. They recognize this in canon. It isn’t simply a case of “oh the show writers were lazy and it’s never mentioned.” What I haven’t seen people discuss is that using a cane the way House does (in my experience anyways) fucking hurts. It isn’t comfortable at all. It feels awkward and clunky and at least personally within a few minutes of using a cane in that fashion my *entire body* hurts. Plus, it doesn’t even really help take the pressure off of my leg pain.

Given the all of him there’s two conclusions that I’d like to make about this (and remember this isn’t canon, just simply my interpretation as a disabled person):

It’s very obvious that House has Feelings about mobility aids. Society can often make people think that using mobility aids is a weakness. Admitting something is wrong. House very clearly doesn’t like to do either of those things. I personally have incredibly complicated feelings about mobility aids that I can’t even begin to put into words. I see myself in House in this regard.

I can’t help but think that him using his cane incorrectly is some fucked up form of self punishment. It’s been brought up in canon that House has a tendency to self harm in various ways. I don’t think that people realizing that him using a cane incorrectly could be related. For those who are unfamiliar, using any mobility aid (even a cane) incorrectly can cause damage. I do not claim to be a doctor but I imagine that House would be dealing with back and shoulder issues at minimum from using his cane the way he does.

The next thought I have is something I think about a lot. It’s clear House’s pain fluctuates, as it does for a lot of chronic pain patients. What I don’t see a lot of people talking about is realistically he could fluctuate mobility aids with the fluctuations of his pain. Yes, I understand there are limitations within his career as a doctor, but this is House MD were talking about there isn’t exactly always exact medical realism is there? I just can’t help but wonder, what would House’s life look like, if he let himself use something other than a cane?

I know there’s an episode where House does use a wheelchair for access to an accessible parking space, and I really really wish they expanded upon this more in canon. Personally, I think House needing to be (but not necessarily acting on it) a part time ambulatory wheelchair user makes sense.

I’ve read some fic/headcanons about House needing a wheelchair (Berber it be due to an advancement in disability or as an acceptance of his current disability) yet everyone talks about him using a shitty hospital grade chair. He’s a doctor who probably has great insurance plus a lofty department head paycheck. If House were in a position to have a wheelchair, he could very very easily access a top of the line custom made chair.

I understand the representation of the standard hospital chair often comes from a place of ignorance about custom wheelchairs, I really do. I just think that the concept of using a hospital chair permanently can cloud the judgement of if it’s truly a “bad thing” or not. Hospital wheelchairs are fucking uncomfortable and not easy to use. A custom chair, when built right, is none of these things.

Just, I’d love more House fanwork that embraces the idea of mobility aids. No, I don’t mean make House randomly decide “oh I’m gonna accept help now” and make him OOC. No, I mean let’s actually dive into House’s feelings about mobility aids, create some fanworks where maybe he works through some of his internalized ableism and self hatred and lets himself be accommodated. I hate seeing fic after fic that makes it seem like it’s some tragedy that House needs crutches or a walker or wheelchair. I want it to be normalized. Disability can be progressive and that’s just life. Yes, it’s upsetting. Yes, it can be sad to those involved. No, it doesn’t mean the end of the world.

Now I think it’s time to talk in regards to the treatment of his chronic pain, outside of the way he accommodates his mobility. I think that, while this is probably related to the writers wanting to stick to the “addicted to Vicodin” plot line, House’s pain management in the series, sucks, to put it lightly. I’ve been to multiple pain management programs (both at formal PM clinics and informal PM done by other specialists) and any doctor worth their salt would have had him on some sort of nerve pain medication and probably some form of muscle relaxer from the very beginning. While, yes, one could argue that House is on these medications and it’s just not mentioned, I really really don’t think that’s the case. You could also argue that he may have been offered these things, and simply refused them. This could very well be the case. However, that doesn’t erase the fact that these things could be helpful.

When House is off Vicodin, they have him substantiating off of exclusively ibuprofen. I’ve had chronic pain bad enough to need opioids treated with high doses of ibuprofen and in my personal experience, it doesn’t do shit. It just upsets your stomach and risks kidney issues and doesn’t actually help with the pain. The fact that just because he deals with addiction he doesn’t get proper pain management is BONKERS to me.

I understand that they were, within the shows canon, attempting to claim that at least some of the pain was psychological. Just because someone’s pain is psychological doesn’t mean you do not treat it. There are plenty of ways to treat psychological pain. Again, one could argue that House simply refused. Again, I’d say that you might be right.

You notice that I say that House very realistically could’ve refused various treatments that could make his life better. Just like how it is with his cane, I believe this is an effort at self punishment. If these efforts at self punishment are conscious or not is genuinely up to you. I personally view it as unconscious, but again, as I said in the beginning, I’m interpreting this the way I see things.

Anyways, just needed to get my thoughts out there, as a crippled person who’s been obsessed with House since before they realized that their chronic pain wasn’t normal. Since before they realized that the word disabled was something that could be applied to them.

Feel free to reply to this with thoughts or questions and y'all are more than welcome to DM me to pick my brain about this!

[lordprettyflackotara]

hitchhiker || chapter four || the proxies

tw: stalker hoodie, hoodies a bit gross in this one ngl, i think this is a fair warning, paranoia, blood, some fluffy shit w tim

i am proud to announce that hitchhiker now has a masterlist with a link to wattpad! find it here!! thank you to everyone who has helped me navigate using other platforms <3

<— previous chapter

Hoodie could understand your appeal.

What he couldn’t understand, was why Tim and Toby had picked you specifically.

Sure, your skin was soft and glowy. Your big innocent doe eyes were doll like. Hoodie’s darker urges craving to see them weep tears under his hand. Although you had overlooked their original odd behavior, was that enough? Were your looks and obliviousness enough to keep you alive?

Hoodie couldn’t understand Toby and Tim’s infatuation with you. It was becoming truly nauseating, sitting through them yapping about you all day long. You were the hottest topic of conversation, the rants about Jeff’s sloppy murders long discarded. Since he couldn’t figure it out, he figured he’d have to do his research.

And every good research session begins the same way: observation.

Hoodie had no issue watching you. He watched as you scrambled to get ready for work, showering so quickly he hardly had time to watch you dry off. He sat perched in an old oak tree across from your building, the overgrown branches and leafs concealing his presence. He noted you truly were oblivious, all of your curtains wide open. Maybe you thought being on the fourth floor saved you from having a peeping tom. In which case, you were terribly wrong.

He watched as you chatted with (who he assumed to be) Nova while running around, his eyes narrowing. Your friend seemed put together, a navy blazer and slacks dressing her thin frame. His eyes flickered back over to you, watching you get ready for work. You did have a nice figure. Your apron only emphasizing the fact. Hoodie had watched Nova slide on the blazer, her upper arms toned with muscle. Huh. So much for a lazy overweight detective. Those targets were easy to get rid of. Toby, in the mist of his yapping about his delightful walk home with you, mentioned Nova. He mentioned the vanilla folder and the case she was working on. Hoodie believed he was the first of the three to have the suspicion she took Winston’s place.

Usually task forces would lay off of the investigation once their colleagues began getting killed. But every so often, there would be a feisty motherfucker who only wanted to indulge in the case deeper. He watched as you darted out of your apartment, Nova grabbing her things and following you. His eyes searched for the vanilla folder. He watched her pack her beat up satchel, random white papers and pens being thrown inside. Yet, no vanilla folder. He grinned devilishly as Nova exited your apartment. Toby would be keeping a close eye on her investigation as she studied the Winston case. They had eyes everywhere, your date with Tim proving to be useful. It gave Hoodie enough time to truly snoop around.

His mind circled back to the vanilla folder, the bane of his existence in your best friends possession. Nova hadn’t left with the documents, the vanilla folder not on her person. Her not leaving with the folder meant one thing and one thing only: it was in your apartment. What did that mean? That Hoodie was going to be able to steal it with ease.

\/

You felt like you were becoming paranoid. Your shift at Olive Garden was the same stressful experience it always was. Screaming children. Argumentative customers. Loud laughter. However, you felt like you were watched. You couldn’t figure out how or why. Your paranoia made you check on your tables faster. Your eyes constantly flickered around the restaurant, searching for the culprit. But all you found were families or couples eating their pasta and bread. By the end of your shift you were beat, shuffling into the bathroom to change clothes.

Davidson park was practically a straight shot from your work, there was no sense in dropping by your apartment. You briefly glanced at yourself in the mirror, not wanting to acknowledge how terrible you felt you looked. You were sure your lips were cracked and your eyes had dark circles decorating them. You shuffled into a bathroom stall, slipping out of your work uniform. You wondered if your perfume could truly mask the nauseating smell of pasta sauce. You began to put on deodorant, the light in the bathroom flickering.

You blinked a few times, trying to ensure you weren’t just sleep deprived. You looked up, a large bug caught in the ceiling light. It was bouncing between the light stick and the glass, creating the smallest sound of movement. You could see its shell, as well as its leggings thrashing around. You shoved it off, resuming changing into your normal clothes. You shoved on your boots, the unsettling feeling of you being watched falling over you again. This time you looked at the bottom gap of the stall door and the floor, a large set of black business shoes standing outside of your stall door. You blinked a few times, as if to double check what you were seeing was really there. “Hello?” You croaked, your mouth seemingly running dry. When was the last time you had drank water?

A gust of wind rushed past you, your head snapping behind you. You were in a tiny bathroom stall, what the actual fuck was creating wind? You turned back to the front of the stall, the pair of shoes now disappeared. Shoving your shirt over your head you exited the stall, looking around the bathroom. All of the stalls were empty, an eerie silence ensuing. Looking up you noticing the bug was no longer moving. Logically you should’ve been fine with it, the small creatures demise caused by the electricity. But the sight of the smallest pool of blood from the bugs corpse made your stomach churn, your face growing pale. How was that possible? The bug was a beetle, not a mosquito or anything with a handfuls worth of blood.

You ripped away your horrified gaze, forcing yourself to look at the floor instead. You shuffled out of the bathroom in a rush, the door hitting the wall as you flung it open. Ignoring the weird looks and questions from your coworkers you left the restaurant. You felt unsteady as you got in the car, your hands planting themselves firmly on the steering wheel. You felt like you had just seen a ghost, the crimson paint staining your mind. You swallowed and attempted to even out your breathing as you put the key into your ignition. You needed to get your shit together. You took a deep breath, putting your car in reverse and heading to see Tim.

\/

Hoodie took his time inspecting your apartment, trying to see what he could find out about you. His curiosity as to what made you so interesting nagging him mid mission. With his partners not around, it gave him the freewill to be as nosy as he wanted to be without repercussions. Your apartment was tiny and cluttered, but he determined your clutteredness was from the lack of space more than being messy. Hoodie’s opinion shifted slightly at the sight of your last outfit on the bathroom floor. Your red lacey underwear caught his eye, the blonde smirking under his mask.

How long had it been since he had been with a woman? He squatted down, picking up the fabric with his ring finger. Hoodie could just imagine your round ass in these, the red complementing your skin tone. He lifted his ski mask just above his nose, inhaling the crotch material of your dirty panties. His face flushed red with lust. His cock was slowly beginning to grow in his jeans, the proxy pulling himself away from the fabric. He took a deep breath, imagining his tongue in between your folds as you pleaded for more.

Ahh yes, Hoodie would do anything to see you beg.

Regaining his focus he wadded up the panties, shoving them in his back pocket. He needed to focus. He left your bathroom, rounding over to your bedroom. Your dresser was covered in various perfumes and jewelry. Did you have more money than you were letting on? He picked up a large necklace, the fake jewels shining back at him in the moonlight. Thankfully you left your lamp on, the blonde beginning to rummage through your belongings more unhinged. He lifted up your mattress, looked under your bed, in your pillow cases, in your nightstands. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. There wasn’t even a trace that it was here.

Hoodie gritted his teeth as he pulled open your dresser drawers. His anger temporarily subsided as he eyed the first drawers contents. Rows of undergarments and bras nearly made his eyes pop out of his head. He shook his head, forcing himself to focus. He rummaged through your drawers, the folder no where in sight. He stomped into the kitchen, the living room empty besides a couch, old wooden coffee table, matching with a the same wooden TV stand, and an ancient television. His eyes wondered around your kitchen, landing on a stack of bills with large red OVERDUE stamps plastered on the front. Hoodie picked up the one on top, examining it.

Huh. Not necessarily poor, just poor spending habits. He tossed the envelope aside, continuing his search for the vanilla bane of his existence. And he wouldn’t be leaving until he found it.

\/

You walked beside Tim down the sidewalk path, cool breezes rushing past the two of you. “So how was work?” He asked, starting conversation. Your shift was unnotable, if you took away the feeling of being watched and blood bug. “The usual. My table five had a lot of screaming children but it ended up being fine,” You answer as honestly as you could. You didn’t want to sound crazy, your paranoia getting the best of you. “What about you?” You added. You shoved your hands in your army green jacket, Tim’s hands shoved in his own mustard coat. For a brief second you saw a look of shock flash across Tim’s face, before he resumed his usual expression.

“The usual,” He answered truthfully. He shoved off the uncanny feeling of the Operators static depriving his senses. It wasn’t a usual punishment, the Operator more angry he had to send Kate than anything else. He always had a soft spot for the girl. “We both hate our jobs huh? You look like you just had a ptsd episode,” You chuckled, playfully elbowing him. Your innocence made Tim’s heart flutter, even with the deeper meaning your words unknowingly had. “You’re one to talk about ptsd episodes. You looked scarred when talking about screaming children,” Tim teased. He playfully poked your side, causing you to giggle. The moon hung in the sky, in seemingly a creepy smile. You made Tim feel normal, even if his life was no where near it.

“Oh please anything involving children provokes that face. I can’t imagine having them,” You say. The two of you strolled in unison, the street lights illuminating your path. “Really? Not even down the line?” Tim asked curiously. Of course it was impossible for him to have kids. He would never allow you to get pregnant, not from him or Brian or Toby. There was always the chance the Operator would be interested in the child. He couldn’t risk it. “Maybe. I’d always be afraid I let the wrong guy get me pregnant though,” You admitted. You felt your face go pale with embarrassment. “Oh fuck I said too much huh?” You laughed nervously. Tim couldn’t help but smile at your nervousness. You had no idea how cute you were.

“Not at all. You don’t have to worry around me. I’ve seen and i’ve done weirder things,” Tim told you. You both walked to the towns lake, the watery murky black as the moonlight reflected off of the glassy surface. “I’m really glad I met you Tim. I feel like you get it,” You say honestly. Tim raised an eyebrow, an owl hooting in the distance. “Get what?” He asked curiously. You flashed a nervous smile, tucking some hair behind your ears. “Like you get me. I’ve spent my whole life trying to fit in everywhere I went. Yet I feel at home with you three. It’s such an odd comforting feeling,” You explain softly. Tim took a step towards you, gently grasping your neck. Your eyes fluttered close, your breath hitching as his hot breath danced across your cool skin.

His chapped lips pressed a long kiss to your forehead, his touch soft and sweet. And most importantly, purposefully gentle. Tim pulled away slowly, holding your face in his gloved hands. You looked up at him, mesmerized by his chocolate orbs. He swiped his thumb across your cheek, soaking in your touch. You wanted to kiss him, his lips just out of reach. Tim wanted nothing more than to kiss you, his core yearning to taste your sweet plump lips. But he was trying to restrain himself. He knew he couldn’t have you. None of them could.

Slowly he pulled away from you, turning his gaze back to the black lake. You could feel the heat still dancing across your cheeks. Dumbfounded you turned towards the lake as well, standing side by side with the man you yearned for. There was an unsettling silence, one you decided to break.

“Hey Tim?”

“Hmm?”

Your mouth ran dry, your nerves getting the best of you. “Nothing never mind,” You babbled. You wanted to tell him about the bug. The shoes. The paranoia. But you didn’t want to scare him away. Tim raised an eyebrow, digging in his jeans pocket. He pulled out a beat up box of cigarettes, the red and white box shining in the moonlight. “Cig? It would help you loosen up a bit,” He offered. You had never considered touching a cigarette a day in your life. But the box sitting in Tim’s hand couldn’t look more intriguing even if it tried. Slowly you pulled one out of the box, looking at it. Tim did the same, immediately putting the stick to his lips. “You’ve never smoked before huh?” He asked. Shooting him an anxious smile you chuckled. His bluntness relaxed your nerves, your shoulders relaxing.

“What gave it away?” You asked him. Tim began digging around in his pocket, searching for a lighter. “You mean besides the fact that you’re eyeing it like it’s poison?” Tim chuckled. You rolled your eyes, the brunette flicking the lighter. He gave it a few flicks, the lighter finally producing a small flame. He inhaled sharply, the end of the cigarette lighting. “Haha very funny,” You replied dryly. Tim grinned as he exhaled the tobacco smoke out of his nose. You blinked, your morals seemingly nose diving out of the window at the sight of him. “You’re holding it like a nerd, go ahead and place it in between your lips for me pretty girl,” Tim instructed. Your cheeks turned pink as you placed the cigarette in between your lips. “Great now keep it there. When I tell you to, inhale for me,” He said. His words were getting to you, from his praise to referring to do things for him.

It made your core throb with an ache you had ignored for a long time.

He brought the lighter to the end of your cigarette, sparks flying as he tried to ignite it. The lighter refused to ignite, Tim’s eyes narrowing. “While I figure this out, you wanna tell me what you were going to a moment ago?” He asked. He took a step closer to you, attempting to block the wind from extinguishing the flame. “I uh, it’s hard to explain,” You said, your cigarette still dangling from your lips. Tim shook the lighter, growing increasingly annoyed. “I have terrible insomnia, nothing you can say will scare me away,” Tim told you. He said it so nonchalantly.

“You have-?”

“Yes, now it’s your turn.”

You stood dumbfounded. Another fast breeze blew past the two of you, your hair flying in the wind. “Well I just, um, I feel like i’m being watched. All the time,” You explain slowly. Tim tried to ignite your cigarette again, the lighter very clearly out of fluid. “Considering you’re the prettiest girl i’ve ever laid eyes on, I can believe that,” Tim chuckled. He took another large inhale of his cigarette, the foul stench flooding your nostrils. You felt like a ball of warmth, your mouth running dry. “You don’t mean that,” You say quietly. Tim raised an eyebrow, tossing the empty lighter aside. “I’m a lot of things, but i’m not a liar,” He whispered. Tim easily towered over you, your eyes meeting his, cigarette dangling from your lips.

Tim’s large hand guided you to hold your cigarette in between your index and middle finger, the orange end still on the edge of your lips. Quietly he moved closer to you, the two of you watching as the end of his cigarette hit the end of yours. With each passing second you grew more flustered, his face an inch away from yours. Despite the freezing cold weather outside, Tim made you feel an indescribable warmth. The kind that blossomed from inside of your chest and made your heart throb. “Inhale for me,” Tim murmured. You did as instructed, ignoring the feeling of flames engulfing your throat. You wanted to stay this close to him forever.

You felt the tobacco swirl around your lungs, your gaze landing on Tim’s. You removed the cigarette from your lips, allowing the wind to guide the smoke out of your mouth. “Feel better?” Tim asked. You began to cough, giving him a thumbs up as you looked away from him. Tim grinned as you bent over slightly, trying to clear your lungs and inhale oxygen. As his large hand patted your back you realized that you’d willingly throw yourself into his warm flames. No matter how much they threatened to burn you.

—> next chapter

[sugusearrings]

( ‘ better .’ ) You keep my hand around your neck, we connect, are you feeling it now? Cause I am. You keep my hand around your neck, we connect, are you feeling it now? I got so high the other night, I swear to God, felt my feet lift the ground. I got so high the other night, I swear to God, felt my feet lift the ground. Oh yeah, Your back against the wall This is all you’ve been talking about In my ears Nothing feels better than this.

— summary: gojo satoru is living a life nobody knows about. not even his two bestfriends. he wants you (fem!reader) all to himself. — genre: super fluff but the end :( — playing: better by khalid — note(s): this song reminds me of gojo so much just being happy and living his life. daddy gojo needs a happy ending and come home already! 😭 but i'm so so sorry for the end please forgive me. very brief mention of smut though. might be some spelling errors, kind of tired and lazy to do rn sorry. — word count: 3k

Satoru Gojo is the strongest sorcerer alive.

He is the honored one.

He is gifted with the Six eyes.

And he is one cocky motherfucker. He always knew about the power he contained which did give him an ego boost. Nobody can tell him otherwise, he is the strongest and honored one.

Many would wonder who would put up with Satoru and his egoistic attitude? Underneath it he is very caring of everyone and he can be funny too. Sometimes. Or at least Shoko and Suguru would say. But they did enjoy their snowy color hair friend and of course he loved his two closest friends.

It was just another day of Gojo bragging how he conquered today’s mission. Shoko was texting on her phone while Suguru was ordering a coffee at the cafe they stopped at because Gojo was whining and pleading to go there since last week. Gojo stopped rambling as his perfect shade of blue eyes looked through the glass of the treats they had on display. Suguru noticed his friend eyeing all the sweets. He knew where this was going.

“Are you really going to waste money on all those sweets, Satoru?” Suguru asked, taking a sip of his coffee. Gojo looked over at the raven hair boy and grinned. It was like he read his mind.

“And why wouldn’t I? Shouldn’t the strongest get a reward?”

That’s when he heard it. He heard a gentle giggle coming from inside. The cafe was small so it didn’t take long for Gojo to see you with your group of friends. He saw the group wearing the same school uniform so it was obvious you all went together. He wasn’t sure if you were giggling at him or with your friends.

But it caught his attention.

He was so caught up staring at you he didn’t even hear the cashier trying to get his attention so they could take his order. He waved them off before making his way over to you.

“That was bold of him.”

Shoko said, reaching to grab Suguru’s coffee for a sip. Suguru nodded. He was taken aback by Gojo's sudden action. His dark hues watched as his best friend brought a chair to sit at your table to talk to you. He noticed the faint blush on your cheeks as you laughed at one of his corny jokes.

“Very bold.” Suguru smiled at Satoru coming back towards them with a cheesy grin on his face.

“Not only am I the strongest and honored one, I am the most handsome.” He announced proudly.

“Is that so Satoru?” He chuckled while taking his coffee back from Shoko. Gojo nodded, getting back on line.

“Very much so, Sugu!”

The two boys looked over seeing you shyly wave at Satoru before leaving the cafe. “She thinks I’m very handsome.” He winked at Suguru then turned to wave goodbye to you.

“She probably said that so you can leave her alone.” Shoko chimed in. Suguru chuckled watching Satoru pout like the brat he is.

“Oh yeah? Then why would she give me this?”

Satoru proudly showed your name on a napkin along with your number. Shoko took it to examine it while Suguru’s bangs draped over her head as he leaned over to read. They were pretty shocked his corny lines actually worked.

“Maybe she’s desperate.” Shoko mumbled. Satoru gasped dramatically, holding his chest with his hand.

“Hey!”

“Name..is very pretty. But she’s definitely a non-sorcerer. Maybe she does actually like you, Toru.” Suguru smiled. Satoru was still pouting, and took out his yellow flip phone. “I’ll text, name right now!”

Satoru grumbled. He glanced over to see his slice of strawberry cake ready to be eaten. He handed the cashier his card and grabbed the bag.

A whole day passed and Satoru received no text back. Of course his friends teased him about how you gave him a fake number. He started to lose some hope. Maybe his friends were right. Maybe you gave him the wrong number just so he can leave you alone. It kind of hurt but he wasn’t going to tell Shoko and Suguru that. He really thought you two hit it off the other day.

Satoru was actually in his dorm just laying on his bed in the dark. He was actually nodding off into a nap when he heard his phone buzz. He groaned quietly, reaching over for it. He assumed it was Suguru texting him to ask where he was. But when he saw an unfamiliar number he furrowed his white brows. He opened the text.

hey satoru. it’s me, name.

He quickly sat up and sat on the edge of the bed. His eyes widening and his heartbeat stops. You actually text him.

heyyy name. wat’s up?

Was that too basic? Was that too dry? Shit. Why did he reply so fast?! Now he looks desperate.

Another buzz.

i’m good! srry i didn’t reply yesterday, i got caught up studying and ended up passing out with my book on my chest.

Satoru chuckled lightly, imagining you so tired you slept with the book in hand.

u probably looked so cute like that.

Buzz.

oh please lol

no seriously! but don’t study too hard, don’t want you too tired you’ll forget about lil old me

i’m sure it’ll be hard to forget someone like you, satoru.

He smiled down at his small screen reading over that text.

You confirmed to Gojo that you were a non-sorcerer without even saying it.

You went to regular school and had a pretty normal life. You were raised by a single mother who works in a hospital as a nurse. You had a younger sibling who was in grade school. You hated math but really loved literature. You wanted to be a teacher not so much a nurse because you saw the long hours your mother worked. She didn’t have too much time for you or your sibling so most of the responsibilities were left on you. Your favorite color was blue ( of course he made a joke it was your favorite now because of his eyes - he might be right on that but you didn’t tell him that ). You also had such a sweet tooth.

Gojo decided not to tell his best friends about you replying to him. Maybe it was selfish of him to keep them out of it, but he just didn’t correct them when they asked about you again. Soon it was forgotten and nobody brought you up. Gojo also kept it to himself of his power, him being a sorcerer. He just told you he went to a good private school. Lucky for him, you didn’t ask any follow up questions.

Whenever he had a long mission and it would be hard to text you back, he would just say he was studying for an upcoming exam. You were very understanding because you were going through the same thing. But when Gojo did come home, he would call you.

You two would speak on the phone for hours. He liked the sound of your voice. He liked the silence you two would share on the phone. It could be a whole hour of silence and he was content just hearing you hum a little tune or curse under your breath while you were looking for something you misplaced. Gojo would fall asleep to the sound of your voice late at night. You would tell him goodnight before you went to sleep yourself. Being with you, Satoru was not the strongest.

He was not the honored one

He didn’t need his Six eyes.

He was just Satoru Gojo.

When Gojo didn’t have missions, that’s when you two spent time together. You two would flip a coin to see if you were going to one of his favorite restaurants or one of your favorite museums. The day would always end at the cafe where you two met. You two would share a slice of strawberry cake and each would take a turn eating the strawberry on top. But Satoru would always pretend he would forget whose turn it was and would let you eat it.

When you graduated school, you did invite him to the ceremony. You swore you didn’t see him in the crowd. But he was there, cheering your name so loud it caused you to flush and get a little embarrassed. After the ceremony, Gojo hung out with your family and they adored him. Your sibling thought he was so funny and your mother couldn’t get over how charming he was.

When it was time for him to go, you walked him downstairs. You insist you would walk him to the bus but Gojo rejected the offer. He didn’t want you walking back by yourself.

“Thank you for coming, Satoru. It means so much to me.”

You told him with a smile looking up at him. Gojo felt his throat drying up and his palms becoming sweaty. He bit down his lip feeling his heart race picking up. You noticed he was awfully quiet. You furrowed your brows. “Toru?”

Gojo leaned down to press his lips against yours. You froze up a bit before you could react, Gojo pulled away quickly.

“I-I’m sorry I-I just couldn’t…I-...fuck!” He yelled, grabbing the bridge of his nose dropping his head. You stood frozen not even noticing him having a melt down. When you finally snapped out of it you saw the dark red on his cheeks with a frown. “I-I didn’t mean to cross the boundaries like that honestly, name. I won't ever do it aga –”

You pulled the collar of his jacket down enough so you can kiss him back. His eyes widened behind his sunglasses. He reacted faster than you did, he placed his hand on your cheek and began to kiss you back.

So you two began to date once the summer began. Did much change between you and Gojo? Not really. Your mother and friends were surprised you two just now became a couple. They just assumed you two were already dating.

He was just a lot more affectionate. He would hold your hand anywhere you two went. He would kiss you while waiting to cross the street or hold you from behind. Gojo would take pictures of you or the two of you whenever he could. When he would pick you up he would have a gift or flowers. Most of the time it was both.

He was the perfect boyfriend. Your friends loved him so much he was always invited when you guys would hang out. Even girls night, they would invite Gojo. They love when he would come for karaoke especially.

Gojo liked this life he had on the side and didn’t have to share it with anyone. He wanted to keep you away from that as much as possible. All to himself.

But at the end of the summer, everything changed.

Gojo was late to come over for a date you both planned. He’s never late to anything. He even shows up at least half an hour early. When you were calling and sending texts over and over, you knew something was wrong. So you just waited till it was time to go to sleep.

Late at night you woke up to a pair of cerulean blues staring down at you.

“Gojo?!”

You nearly yelled startled. He hushed you not to wake up your sibling who was sleeping. You sat up and was ready to ask him so many questions. Like how did he get inside of your apartment? Why was he just showing up now? But Gojo fell onto his knees then broke down into sobs. Tears streaming down his now red cheeks. The cry was from heartbreak. You got off the bed to comfort your boyfriend.

That’s when you found out about his best friend, Geto left.

And everything else.

It took a few days for Gojo to explain everything to you. About curses, his mission, his six eyes, his friends, and everything else. It honestly made your head spin. At first you thought he was mad and just making it up. But once he showed you his infinity and tried to get close to him. You physically couldn't. It was like a force field was keeping you two apart. You were dating Satoru Gojo, The strongest sorcerer alive.

The honored one.

Gifted with the Six eyes.

Did that change anything between you two? No.

You just wish he was honest in the beginning but you understood.

It was a lot to tell anyone who wasn’t part of that world.

Gojo barely left your side since his best friend Geto left him after killing the entire village and his parents. He wanted to kill non-sorcerers like you.

“But Toru, Suguru can just come any day now and kill everybody.”

You frowned as you stroked his white hair as his head was laying on your chest. He liked to hear your heartbeat and cuddle into you. He picked up his head with his beautiful blue eyes staring at you.

“You don’t think I can protect you, name?” He asked you. You shook your head sitting up making him sit up.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You might as well have.” He shook his head. You frowned.

“Satoru, it’s kind of scary to hear your friend wants to kill people like me, who aren’t sorcerers.”

“But he won’t!” He raised his voice making you lean back. Gojo grabbed both of your hands and stared into your own eyes.

“I promise to protect you with everything, name. I swear nobody, even Suguru, will never lay a finger let alone breathe the same air as you. I love you so much, name I can’t lose you too. I’ll never let you be in any kind of danger because of me.”

Your face was heating up while you stared at him eyes wide.

“Y-You love me, Satoru?”

Gojo blinked, realizing he confessed his feelings to you just now. He could feel his own cheeks heating up. He let out a chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I guess I got lost in the moment. Just trying to be heroic to my girlfriend.” He laughed nervously. You giggled and placed your hand on his warm dark pink cheek.

“I love you too.”

Gojo gives you his infamous grin before he kisses you passionately. That same night you and Gojo made love for the first time. It was the first time for you both. Gojo could feel himself becoming nervous for the first time in his life. You could tell he was but you reassured him you trusted him. You love him and he loves you. He made sure to be gentle with your body. He would look up at you with his white thick eyelashes fluttering with his blue hues darkening with lust. “Is this okay?” “I’m not hurting you am I?” “You’re doing so good...such a good girl.” “You look so pretty taking me whole like that.”

It took two days for Gojo to finally lose some stamina.

Satoru felt the weight being lifted off his shoulders when he told you the truth. But he still kept you separated from that life. The further you were from it, the easier it would be to protect you. You weren’t mad but some days it was overwhelming seeing him come home with bruises or blood on his clothes.

There were nights you would wait up for him and he wouldn’t come home till the early morning. You did feel helpless you couldn't do more for him but he reassured all he needed was you to be home waiting for him. But you stood by him for all these years. Especially when he brought in two children named Megumi and Tsumiki to live with you both.

After graduating university, you moved in with Satoru. He became a teacher at his old school and you became a teacher in grade school. You grew a bond with Megumi and Tsumiki. Both knew you weren’t a sorcerer but didn’t treat you any different. They both saw you as a mother figure and adored you.

After a long day at work you walked into the cafe where it all started.

Where you met your husband for the first time.

You could still hear his cheerful laugh and his gorgeous smile.

His eyes practically glowing whenever the sunlight would graze against them even with the shades on.

“Welcome! How can I help you?” The cashier asked with a smile. You smiled back already knowing what you wanted to order.

“Hi can I get a strawberry cake,” you started then paused a bit but the cashier was patient, “sorry I kind of got stuck for a second, haha.” you giggled. The cashier nodded and wrote it down on her pad. “Oh also can you write something on it. “It’s a ghoul?” The cashier looked up with a wider smile.

“Because it’s Halloween right?” She giggled. You smiled again.

“Yeah! ” You handed her your card. She gave the card back once she was finished ringing you up.

“I think it’s cute. You’re practically glowing.” She gushed, making you blush a light pink. You walked over to take a seat. You reached into your purse to take out the sonogram you had done earlier before going to work. You smiled warmly seeing your precious baby resting in your belly. You could see the circle they made with the computer with the “IT’S A GIRL”.

You knew your baby was a girl.

Your hand was placed over your slightly swollen belly. Your wedding ring glistening by the light. You checked your phone for the time then you started to look at all the photos you had of Gojo or the both of you. There were some photos of Megumi and Tsumiki. There was a video you took when you told Gojo the news you were pregnant. He nearly broke the ceiling. Literally. You let out a small giggle. You knew he was going to be over the moon finding out about your baby girl.

What you didn’t know was that

Satoru Gojo

The strongest sorcerer alive,

The honored one,

Gifted with the six eyes,

Was being sealed tonight.

[sailoryooons]

Please | Oneshot | (myg)

☾ Pairing: Yoongi x f. reader

☾ Summary: Yoongi doesn’t ask for much. He never has to, with you. And yet when he comes home from a late night at the studio, particularly tired and a little cranky, there is a single thing on his mind. Except you want to hear him ask, this time.

☾ Word Count: 4,222

☾ Genre: Established relationship, pwp, domestic shit

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Needy and very soft Yoongi which is a warning in itself, literally can these two say anything without mummbling, pegging!!!! Finally!!!!!, ass play (m. receiving), Yoongi riding strap!!!, referring to a dildo as readers cock because fuck it that’s hot, reader doesn’t get to come this is about Yoongi, teeth rotting admiration and fluff in parts, explicit language, a little bit of aftercare, no mentions of anal prep because I am lazy and because this is a perfect world, also reader is referenced to having a vagina but there’s are no other references to gender identity, no explicit dynamics but reader is ~leading~ Yoongi in a sense

☾ Published: March 17, 2022

☾ A/N: I FINALLY WROTE PEGGING AND IT’S MIN MOTHERFUCKING YOONGI!!!!!! I have been dying to write soft Yoongi begging to be fucked forever, and I finally did it. I am very nervy about it because I’ve never fucked someone with a strap but I did terrible and maybe unreliable research but I did research nonetheless so feel free to tell me if I’m wrong for something (beyond the fact that like Yoongi just strolls in ready to be fucked with like nothing else but fingers and lube okay I cut out housekeeping parts). Anyway - enjoy!!

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask

The bed dips behind you gently, pulling you from sleep. While you’re not typically a light sleeper, your rest is always fitful when you go to bed without Yoongi. Most nights when you fall asleep in your bed without him, you startle awake when he opens the door to the apartment, or at the hush of the shower when he sneaks by you.

Tonight, though, he’s made it to the bed, the mattress sinking with his familiar weight and the smell of his mint and eucalyptus shampoo filling your senses. You roll over on instinct, half awake, body tuned to seek the heat of him. 

When you touch his skin, you hiss in surprise. He’s still cold, not yet blanket-warm. He chuckles a low and scratchy sound that barely makes it past the whirr of the tower fan near the door. Despite his chilled skin, your hands seek the silky smooth skin beneath his cotton-soft shirt and the scratch of his legs against yours. 

Yoongi makes room for you, opens himself up, and lets you fold into the shape of him. You fit perfectly, head tucked to his shoulder, arm around his middle, legs tangled. You always have. 

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he mumbles against your forehead, minty breath sweeping your brow. He already knows you’re awake, further from sleep than you were before you turned over, but still sleepy. He nuzzles you. “It’s late.”

“Mhmmm.”

“You usually hear me sooner.”

His voice is velvet, a dark buzz against your forehead where his words hit your skin. You love the sound of his voice, especially so near sleep like this. 

“Mhmm,” is your only answer, unable to string together anything, just enjoying the smell and feel of him. The warming skin. The soft thud of his heart. 

For a moment, it’s quiet. The heavy dregs of sleep begin to pull at you and drift under, breath evening out. Sinking into that soft, floating feeling right before you’re truly asleep, content and-

“What if I was an intruder, hmm?” Yoongi asks, pulling you back up from the depths. 

You frown. The heavy feeling of sleep fades like mist burned off by the morning sun. Yoongi’s question hangs in the air and you feel awareness prickle at your neck. 

You crack an eye open at him. “Hmm?”

He’s staring at the ceiling, face nothing more than a shadow in the cool dark of the room. Only the city lights give a muted glow to his side profile, a slip of silver. You can’t see his eyes, but you can tell they’re open, awake and alert. The rest of your grip on sleep slips through your fingers like sand, prickling awareness tingling through you. 

“What would you do if it wasn’t me, hmm? Sleep through a home invasion?” Yoongi idly plays with your sleep shirt, fingers pulling at the softened hem. 

Time has granted you the ability to chip away at the armor that surrounds Min Yoongi. After years of being together, you know the double meaning of his words and the hidden meaning in his actions. And right now, you know that Yoongi is tired and heavy limbed, but talkative. 

Min Yoongi has never been talkative for as long as you’ve known him. Sure, he can talk about music and his work with excitement and sugar-rush bursts of enthusiasm, but his social battery has a small window. He can’t be talkative for long, and he is certainly never talkative before sleep.

Unless he wants something. 

Narrowing your eyes, you lean into him a little, nuzzling the familiar curve of his jaw with the bridge of your nose. He lets out a sound low in his throat, almost a purr. He tilts his face toward you, nose brushing yours. 

“Why are you so talkative, hmm?” your voice is scratchy from disuse. “Unlike you.”

“It was just one question.”

“Hmm.” You squeeze him around the middle, fingers twisting in his shirt. He makes another sound, soft and dreamy, letting you crush him to your side. His eyes flutter shut, lashes dusting against your brows. “What do you really want?”

Yoongi is bashful tonight, face pressed into your neck. He hides there, your brows furrowed together as you feel him more than see him cling to you. Wiggles a little deeper into your side. Clutches your shirt a little tighter. 

His voice is so soft when he answers, hot against your pulse. “Nothin'.” 

It doesn’t seem like nothing. Yoongi is almost always asleep the second he hits the mattress and fuses himself to your side. But you let the silence hang in the air, dropping a hand down his back to slide it under his shirt. His skin is warm now, your fingers dancing up his back, dragging softly. He shivers against you. Whines a little at the feeling. 

Yoongi’s feet scrabble on the bed as he gathers yours against his. His knees pull in a little tighter. He makes himself a little smaller. Presses his face in a little closer, mouth flush to your neck, lips soft and not quite a kiss, but something close. 

Ah. 

“Need help getting to sleep?” you begin to rub his back, letting your blunt nails scrape lightly over smooth skin. He shivers again and barely gives you a nod. “How can I help, baby?”

“I don’t know.”

You smirk, touch turning firm as you reach the small of his back, massaging the muscle there. Feeling the soft dips of his dimples. Curious, you slide your hand beyond the waistband of his sweatpants, squeezing his round ass. Yoongi lets out a high-pitched whine and you grin. 

“Ahhh,” you murmur, pressing a kiss between his creased brow. “You do know. Tell me how to help.”

“Want you to make me tired.”

“Yeah? How do you want it, hmm?” He goes quiet. Where his pelvis is pressed against yours, you feel him start to harden. You grin fully now, Yoongi’s arousal chasing away any fragments of sleep. “Come on,” you urge, catching his mouth with yours and speaking against his lips. “Tell me.” 

His whine is low and fuzzy against your mouth as he squirms, trying to put distance that he doesn’t really want between the two of you. You don’t let him, gripping his hip and pulling him close, pulling your leg over him to press his clothed cock firmly against your underwear. 

“Want you to fuck me,” he slurs against your mouth. You pull his bottom lip with your teeth, sucking gently. He sighs, melting into you. “Please.”

For a few moments, you don’t answer him, content to kiss him properly and lick into his mouth, to ply open the seam of his soft lips and swipe your tongue in. His kisses are lazy and wet, half drunk on sleep and high on wanting you. Wanting too much of you to go to bed without you. 

This is your favorite, being here in bed with him tangled and tired. This side of Yoongi, the soft and blushing version who shies away from your hand when you press against his dick makes you smile. Makes butterflies swirl in your stomach, makes your thighs clench together. 

“Okay,” you say simply. “But you gotta do the work. You woke me up.” 

Yoongi’s mouth turns down. You can feel the frown against your chin, where his lips are slightly parted and warm-wet from kissing you. You hum, a question as you slide your hand out of his sweatpants to rub up and down his back, fingers pressing along his spine. 

“I want you to fuck me,” he says again, pressing against you on the words you and me. 

“Ah.”

Pressing a kiss to his closed eyelids gently and murmuring, “Okay, baby. But you still gotta do the work. You too tired to ride me, hmm?”

“No.” His answer comes out in such a rush of air that you can’t help but laugh, cunt aching at his desperation. “Not too tired.” 

“Okay.”

These routines are practiced yet never feel quite the same. The room is cold when you pull back the blankets, rolling on your side to pull open the nightstand. Yoongi is lost in the loft of the blankets, but you can hear the hush of him moving around, his shirt sailing over your head, followed by sweatpants. 

A shiver works its way up your spine as you gather the half-full bottle of lube, its contents shining in the window light. Yoongi rolls from the bed as you rotate back to where he was, snapping the cap on the lube. Its click is like thunder in the silent room, Yoongi looking at you with wide eyes over his shoulder. 

Yoongi is stunning in every manner of the word. His shoulders are broad and smooth, flexing as he pulls open a drawer to the dresser. His back is beautiful and smooth, dotted constellations of a few freckles sweeping toward his tapered hips, and his very round ass.

When Yoongi turns around, you don’t eye the soft harness in his hand or the flash of pink silicone. All you see is him: dark hair curtaining his round, moonbeam face, lips chapped and bitten, a red flush creeping up his chest and neck, dusky nipples hardened by the cool air. 

Gaze dipping down, you smirk. Yoonig’s cock is hard at the thought of fucking himself on you. It bobs against his stomach as he shuffles onto the bed, brown tip dripping pearls of precum. Yoongi chews on his lip, midnight eyes dropping down to look at your slick fingers. 

Yoongi puts the harness and his favorite pink dildo at the foot of the bed, lip sucked into his mouth as he looks at you with round eyes. You lay propped on the pillows, your back pressed to the headboard. You spread your legs, making room for Yoongi there. 

Carefully, Yoongi lays down on top of you, his arms going around your waist and squeezing tight, head tucked against your collarbone. He exhales, shaky and trembling a little as you let him settle his weight against you, cock pressed to the shirt covering your lower half. 

“So sleepy,” you murmur. “This is all I’m gonna do for you, yeah?” 

Yoongi nods against your chest, melting into your touch as you use your lubed fingers to slide along the seam of his ass, dragging slowly. You press against his rim, smiling as you feel him twitch as he lets out a keen. 

The room is cold, but when Yoongi shivers against you as you gently rub your fingers around the tight ring of his rim, you know it’s not from the temperature of the room. His hips squirm back and forth, leaking cock dampening your t-shirt. He pants against you, saying nothing as you rub your fingers back and forth, not pushing in but providing stimulation that's not enough.

But you don’t give him what he wants right away. What he needs is soft and slow. He lets you peel him apart and you feel the way the muscles of his stomach jump against yours. His arms tight around you as you press harder, his face smashed against your neck. 

Having him like this, liquid in your lap and voice cracking as he asks you for more is your favorite thing in the world. Perhaps it doesn’t happen enough, this reverent supplication. As you push just the tip of your finger into his clenching hole and he sings, you think that you need to do this more.

But you’ll worry about more later, laser-focused on the way that he breaks apart as you hush him, working your finger in his ass. He loosens up and lets you sink into the heat of him further and further. His breaths are staccato-sharp, coming out punctuated against your pulse point. 

It’s wet where his mouth huffs, spit slicking your warm skin where he drools against you, slack as you dip your finger deep deep, pressing against his prostate. Yoongi’s reaction is to let out a long, soft whine, his body going rigid around your finger, tense with pleasure and kicking his feet. 

“Easy,” you murmur, words pressed against his furrowed brow. You place kisses against the crown of his head, coaxing him to relax. “Let me in, baby. Come on.”

Yoongi nods - perhaps more to himself than to you - and takes a deep, shaking breath. He goes boneless, mouth slack, eyes closed and full weight on you. It’s comforting, the heaviness of him on your chest and stomach as you stroke your finger gently against his prostate. 

Sounds drip out of him like honey. They’re subdued and drawn out, barely loud enough to hear. But you’re tuned to him now, watching the way his nose and mouth twitch as you continue to finger fuck him slowly, listening to the way his breath comes out in a whoosh when you tease another finger at his rim. 

“Please,” he mumbles. 

You hum. “You’re so fucked out from just one, baby. You gonna be able to take another?” He nods his head knocking into your chin. It’s not painful, but you tsk at him anyway. “How are you gonna take my cock like this, hmmm?” 

“I can.” His eyes open and he turns his head. Gives you a single slow blink. “Just feels - nnnn - feels good. I can take it. Please.”

“You’d better.” 

It’s an empty threat. If Yoongi asked you to lay him on his stomach and fuck him deep into sleep, you’d do it. You’d do anything he asks of you, but teasing him is fun. It makes him fussy, fingers twisting into your shirt. It makes him needy, mouth screwed up, cheeks flushed, and muscles all tight. 

It’s fucking perfect, having him like this. So you give in to him, pressing a second finger in slowly. It’s a stretch and Yoongi’s whimper is pain-laced pleasure, his jaw flexing as he clenches his teeth. You remove your other hand from where it runs through his hair, scratching his scalp to uncap the bottle and squeeze more liquid between his cheeks.

“Cooooold,” he protests. 

You tut at him. “Need more, don’t whine.”

“You’re mean today-”

His complaint is choked off with a moan as you thrust your fingers in hard, his walls hugging your fingers so fucking tight it’s hard to move. Again, his feet kick against the bed, Yoongi unable to sit still. “You woke me up and asked me to fuck you,” you remind him, voice low. “I’m being very nice prepping this perfect little ass of yours.”

With a huff, he settles in and focuses on the way your fingers feel. You watch, delighted as the only sound is his static breath and the wet squelch of your fingers. You press against his prostate, massaging it the way he likes, making Yoongi tremble and clench his teeth. He doesn’t tense, letting you press and drag inside of him the way you want, the way that leaves him trembling, his lip tucked between his teeth. 

Yoongi’s thighs begin to twitch and you feel him rutting against you, seeking friction against his cock. Carefully, you pull your fingers out of him and he lets out a cracked cry, begging you not to. You smack his ass, giving a wet snap.

“Come on.” You catch his mouth and devour him, kissing him with tongue and teeth and making him fall to your side. “Fuck yourself on my cock like you said you would, Yoongi.”

The power that comes with this is immeasurable. You move together, tangled limbs and messy as he falls backward, watching you with big, round eyes and bruised mouth as you pull the loops of the strap up your thighs, sinching it snuggly. You grin as you adjust the pink dildo - Yoongi’s favorite - and tug, making sure he’s secured it. 

Yoongi is a vision, shining in a thin layer of sweat, blotches of red blooming across his skin, heating up from the inside out. His lashes are dark and lined with tears from fighting the orgasm your fingers nearly pulled from him, dark nipples hard and cock swollen and dripping. 

Arousal floods from your stomach to your cunt, sticky wet where it meets the cotton of your panties. You fight the urge to rub your thighs together and grit your teeth to ignore the ache between your thighs. As much as seeing Yoongi crawl up your legs, wet and panting turns you on, this is about him and his pleasure. 

The snap of the lube cap is loud, making Yoongi flinch where he is settling on your thighs, staring at you. You give him a grin, beckoning toward his hand. He lifts one toward you, palm up, hissing as you pour a generous amount on his palms. 

“Come on,” you whisper. “Jack me off, get it nice and wet for you.”

Of course, it isn’t a real cock. You can’t feel it when Yoongi wraps his long fingers around it, squeezing and working it like it’s an extension of you. You can’t feel it when he brushes a finger over the bright, pink tip. There’s no shutter of stimulation when he twists his hands, wet schlick of the lube sliding between messy fingers. 

It doesn’t make the moment any less arousing, watching Yoongi’s hands slip over the silicone, slicking it for himself. Your pussy clenches around nothing, your heart pounding in your chest as you watch him. You suck your bottom lip in your mouth, tired but loving this, loving the way he slides up your legs, ready to use you for himself. 

“Just like that,” you encourage, lifting your hands from where they rest on the bed to hold his hips. He lets out a sound at your touch and your heart flips. “Slow, baby. Don’t hurt yourself.”

“‘M not,” he mumbles, frowning. His bottom lip juts out. You can’t help it, removing one hand from his hip to prod at his mouth with your fingers. He looks up at you, half-lidded and glassy-eyed. “I’m gonna go slow. I’m tired.”

“Too tired?” He shakes his head and you drop your hand back to his hip, giving a squeeze. “Okay. Come on, then. Sit on it.” 

One of Yoongi’s hands goes to your shoulder as he leans over. He shadows you, fingers slipping a little on your skin but digging in for purchase. You hold his hips steady while he reaches behind him, grabbing the base of the toy and lowering himself, rocking his hips a bit until the pink crown catches his hole. 

Fingers dig into skin, yours into his hips and his into your shoulder, blunt nails biting. He moans loudly, his head dropping down to rest on top of yours. You massage his hips, feel the muscle ripple under his supple skin as he sinks a little lower, letting the stretch make him squirm. 

“You’re so fuckin hot,” you mumble under the weight of him, watching as he sinks further, swallowing it up. His cock bobs, neglected and drooling, smearing precum over his flushed skin. You want to reach out and grab him, but for now, you want to see if he can come untouched. “Just like that baby.”

“Please,” he gasps, and you know he doesn’t mean please do it for me. It’s a word thrown out in a haze, the only word he can remember to cling to as he slides all the way down. 

Yoongi sits with the toy fully sheathed, his thighs quaking and his breath shaky. He places both of his hands on your shoulder and you turn your head, placing a loving kiss on his wrist as he lets himself adjust to the stretch. 

Running your hands up and down his ribs, you urge him to go on, to take what he wants. He sighs, lifting his heavy head off of yours as he lifts himself, sliding up the toy easily before dropping back down. The sounds he makes are hypnotizing. 

Dazed, you watch as Yoongi repeats the motion, slowly fucking himself in your lap, cock bouncing, head tilted back and blissed-out face pointing at the ceiling. His lips are parted in silent prayer, backtracked by the steady beating of his ass against your thighs.

Everything about him is soft at the edges, his sounds, his scrunched-up face, his skin under your hands as you drag upwards to brush your thumbs back and forth across his stiff nipples. He lets out a mewl, a violent shiver vibrating through him at the added stimulation.

“Please,” he mumbles again and you’re not sure what he’s begging for but you give it to him anyway, keeping up with the brushing of your thumbs. 

This is perfect, you think. This here, with heat trapped between you, Yoongi trembling as he pleases himself the way that he wants, chases his orgasm at the speed that he wants. You don’t rush him, you don’t plant your feet to fuck up into him. He does the work, just like he said. Just like he promised. 

Yoongi becomes desperate in your lap, his breathing labored as he fucks himself harder, presses you into the pillow and headboard as he grinds down on you and lets out a debauched sound as the toy presses against his prostate. You grin, elated.

“Just like that,” you breathe, reaching for his face to pull him to you. His kisses are sloppy and uncoordinated, his high so close that it’s all he can think about. “Fuck yourself just like that.”

“Pleeeease,” he moans, slurred at the ends. 

An incomprehensible string of noises comes out of his mouth. Yoongi is gone, driven only by his need to come and you watch in fascination as he chases his orgasm. Knobby knees trembling, fingers gripping yours desperately, hair stuck to sweaty temples, your underwear and shirt damp from sweat, lube and his precum.

Fuck you almost think you can come like this, only visually stimulated as Yoongi comes apart at the seams, voice broken and cracking, eyes rolled back under fluttering lids as he goes rigid. His cock twitches as he comes, ropes of white spilling on his stomach and flushed chest, your shirt and arms. 

Your eyes are for Yoongi only. He seems suspended in time, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows thickly, a line of sweat dripping down blotchy skin and catching in his collarbone. You have the sudden urge to lean forward and catch it with your tongue. 

Instead, you run your hands up and down his sides and around his hips, fingers massaging tense muscles as you go. He catches his breath as you rub, soothing knots and spasms.

When he can breathe normally and opens his eyes, his pupils are moon-wide and he’s dazed. Carefully, you roll him to your side. He huffs and whines at the movement but you shush him. With him on his side, lost in the loft of the pillows and blanket, you pull your hips back. It’s a wet drag and Yoongi whines as you leave him clenching and wanting. 

Empty, he sags into the bed with a heavy sigh. He makes you smile, this tired and blush-stained boy who fucked himself to the edge of sleep. You get up, peeling off your shirt and shivering in the cool room before tossing it in the hamper. You trudge to the bathroom, flicking on the faucet to warm the water as you remove your strap, unceremoniously tossing it into the bathtub to clean tomorrow. 

Grabbing hand towels, you soak them under the water before walking back to Yoongi, who is already half asleep. Carefully, you roll him over, wiping off the cum and lube sticking to his heated skin. His eyes flutter open and he gives you a tired smile, making your heart squeeze. 

You take care to wipe off any fluids on both of you before stripping the blanket and pulling a new one over him. He fists the covers and pulls them up high, tucking them under his chin. You chuckle, going to the dresser to slide your ruined underwear down your legs and replace your shirt.

Just as you step into the lace, Yoongi speaks up from the bed. “Leave them.” You turn and look at him to find he’s watching you, laying on his side with his hair splayed on the pillow like spilled ink. “You didn’t get to come. I intend on fixing that in the morning.”

Your stomach flips. “Yeah?”

He closes his eyes and nods. “Come to bed, please. I miss you.”

And you know what he means when he says it. It isn’t I miss you because I haven’t seen you in a while. It isn’t I miss you because you’re far away even when you’re right next to me. It’s I miss you even though I just had you, I miss you when you’re gone for even a second. 

Sliding into the bed, you cuddle up to his back. He’s warm and smooth, legs tangling with yours as you curl yourself around him. He twines his fingers with yours and pulls them to his mouth for a kiss before tucking your linked hands against his chest. His heart beats steadily and his breaths even out. 

“Love you,” he mumbles. 

Yoongi’s asleep before he can even hear you say it back. 

[snowydawn17]

Look at me. Look at what I have to deal with.

Ppl who joke about relatable genshin accounts could never withstand my aura (owns two 5* weapons, both of which are catalysts, one of which is baizhu’s bc I lOST THE 50/50-)

[supermarketbae]

Touch Starved Billy Hargrove Hc

Well obviously he doesn't have a lack of touch sexually bc damn did he get around before he met you (as he should. sexy ass motherfucker), But I'm talking about touch that doesn't involve lust or attempting to get him out of his clothes. I feel like he'd be super deprived of genuine affection. Getting flustered when he's actually shown it. Which is hot because he can say the filthiest things to you without batting an eyelash but the moment you rub his back or play with is hair he can hardly stutter out your name correctly (sweet boy) and ofc it would lead to him getting horny, it's Billy Hargrove were talking abt.

warnings: slight sexual aspects (no smut yet....) not formatted bc do i have toooooo, FLUFF

a/n: I thought of this at like 3 am and had to write it (part 2)

His Father had just got done screaming at him for God knows what and seeking out comfort Billy hops in his camero and drives to you. Later, sprawled out on the couch his eyes still puffy from crying your limbs tangled with his as you moved your hand in slow circles on his back until his choppy breathing evened out and slowed. You turn your attention back to the movie you had put in not noticing Billy's heavy drunken gaze on you. Your hand moves to his hair. Nails scratching gently into his scalp. He feels himself shudder eyes rolling slightly as you move your hand back to his back again. He lets out a small appreciative moan that has your thighs clench together. Billy can't fathom why he's this turned on by you being this... wholesome? When you look at his blissed out features, you smile leaning down to press a chaste kiss that, well, quickly deepens on his lips. "Better?" you ask kissing him again on his cheek. Billy knows his brain has short circuited. Why else would he not be able to get the measly reply out of his throat as he studies your face that has genuine warmth in it lust being overpowered by love. a slow lazy smile spreads across his face "I love you." He murmurs to your blushing form. "Fuck I love you." he says again pulling you onto his lap. "Love you too baby." you whisper against his lips. So yes, Billy Hargrove, is so utterly touch starved.

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Part 2? aka me wanting to add smut to this. can you guys tell i've been obsessed with him lately?