#I remember spending one hour on it back in March

[yandere-daydreams]

file #4: the body mod fic.

part of the FREAK SHIT MARCH evidence packet.

pairing: yandere!wriothesley x reader (genshin).

length: 3.1k.

warnings: non/con touching + groping, nonconsensual piecing, dubiously consensual tattoos, permanent body modification, intimidation, needles, obsessive behavior, and unbalanced power dynamics.

“Just one?”

The question had been hushed, meek, directed more towards your lap than the man sitting across from you. The warden – Wriothesley, you chided yourself, biting the inside of your cheek and attempting to remember what he’d asked you to call him, Wriothesley – broke into a wry smile, but nodded, leaning back in his armchair. “Just one,” he reassured. “And you’ll taken care of until your release date.”

You didn’t respond, but he must’ve seen the way you paled at the suggestion. “Having second thoughts?”

“No, it’s just—” You grit your teeth. Your eyes flitted up momentarily, but fell back to your legs just as quickly. “I… I’ve never really liked needles, I guess.”

You could see his eyes light up, his grin broadening as he tried to stifle his laughter. You scowled, but couldn’t blame him. He was used to dealing with hardened criminals, the scum of Teyvat, thieves and spies and murderers, and here you were – on the verge of fainting because he asked you to get a tattoo. “I promise, you don’t have anything to worry about.” At least he was trying to sound comforting, even if it was clearly a half-hearted effort. “I’ll make sure you’re in good hands.”

And he had, in a way.

You just wished he would’ve mentioned that those hands would be his own.

Calloused fingertips dug into your bicep as a scarred palm pressed into your skin, keeping one of your arms loosely secured against the mattress of the cot while the other was pinned between the bedframe and his chest (the placement unintentional, or so you hoped). You’d been shaking when he brought out that terrible machine – a vial of dark ink trapped inside of a cage of copper and steel; a single, silver needle protruding out of one end and a leather grip wrapped around the other – but it’d only taken an hour for fear to fade into boredom, another for boredom to drag on into a rotting, discolored sort of exhaustion. For as much as you’d been dreading it, there was more pressure than pain. It was repetitive, if anything – a monotonous pierce, stab, pierce, stab that you could only try your best not to focus on. You could already feel an ache settling below the skin of your shoulder, already knew that you wouldn’t be able to lift your arm for days, but you tried not to—

His needle stabbed into the thin skin over your shoulder blade, and you couldn’t stop yourself – letting out a low hiss as you flinched into the cot’s thin mattress. You expected Wriothesley to laugh, to drag a damp cloth over the affected area and mutter something like ‘bear with me’ or ‘my bad, love, my bad’ like he had a dozen times before, but instead, there was a muffled click as he switched off his awful machine, a dull clatter as he dropped it onto a bedside table already crowded with bottles of disinfectant and the nurse’s bizarre tools. “We’ll stop here. It’ll take another session, but I think you’ve been through enough for one day. For a virgin, especially.”

You were only half-listening; the phantom of his machine still buzzing in your ears. “Are you sure?” You asked, trying to hide how desperate you were not to spend another night in the empty infirmary with a man you barely knew. “It’s not that bad, I can go for another—”

“I’m sure. Sit up, I’ll let you have a look.”

You pursed your lips, but didn’t protest. You could see how Wriothesley had gotten into such an authoritative position. The way he spoke, his constant undertone of stern stability – it was hard to so much as imagine talking back to him, let alone breaking one of the rules that’d been meticulously and painstakingly drilled into you when you’d arrived at the Fortress of Meropide a little under a week ago. Still, you’d been terrified – too scared to so much as speak to another prisoner for the first two days. You weren’t dangerous. You couldn’t hold your own in a fight, or protect yourself if someone else, someone stronger decided they had a problem with you. You could barely even call yourself a criminal, but apparently, the Iudex hadn’t agreed. You’d been on your way to the fortress before he could finish reading out your sentence, and now, you were trapped in the darkest, deepest place in all of Fontaine, alone and so, so painfully vulnerable. If it hadn’t been for Wriothesley, you probably would’ve requested to forgo your imprisonment entirely and be sent straight to the gallows.

A hand on your shoulder, a softened lull to his voice. “You can sit up, can’t you? I’ll have to call Sigewinne, if you’re in that much pain.”

“Right, I— uh, sorry,” You stammered as you shook your head and pushed yourself up, careful to keep the thick, overly starched cot sheet pressed to your chest. The infirmary was empty, the door locked and sealed, and while Wriothesley hadn’t seemed to think much of ordering you to take off your shirt and lay face-down, you couldn’t bring yourself to brush off the stark, damp chill that came with any amount of exposure in the fortress so easily. You guessed that, after enough time, you’d get used to it. You guessed that, when you did, the thought of not being so cold so constantly wouldn’t make you feel so sick. “I…  I think I’m still getting used to this,” you went on, with a strained smile. “Still a little out of it, I guess.”

“That’s alright, love. We all take a few months to find a way to cope.” When you glanced over your shoulder, there was already a mirror in his hand – a compact, small enough to fit in his palm. You had to crane your neck to see it, but Wriothesley knew how to strike the right angle, and soon enough, the sprawling, spiraling pattern stretching from the lower curve of your shoulder blade to the ball of your shoulder came into view. It took you a moment to make out the pattern, but relief accompanied the delayed realization. Lumidouce bells, all blossoming and linked together by a single vine. He’d finished the linework, and there was a smattering of color in the bottom corner – only, oh, he’d gotten the shade wrong. Rather than deep violet, he’d used a light blue, more similar to ice than the water nearly everything in Fontaine stole its palette from. Judging by his expression, though, all beaming pride and low-brewing mirth, he hadn’t caught the mistake. “What do you think? Don’t keep me in suspense, now.”

“It’s… nice,” you said, the sentiment sincere despite your hesitance. And then, laughing, “I was—Well, it feels a little silly now, but I was terrified you’d leave me with, I don’t know, a sea monster or a giant wolf or something.”

“Maybe next time. Not a wolf, though - you don’t strike me as that vicious.” You bit your tongue, forcing yourself not to tell him there wouldn’t be a next time and opting to focus on the soreness starting to knot in your shoulder, instead. You swung your legs over the side of the cot, moving towards where you’d left your shirt draped over an unopened crate, but Wriothesley caught your wrist, tugging you gently back onto the thin mattress. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, his playfulness suddenly more irritating than it had been, a few second ago. “I don’t think we’re finished, yet.”

Not for the first time, your smile wavered. “I… I thought we only agreed to one, sir.”

“Of course.” He squeezed your wrist teasingly. “One of each.”

Something heavy and spiked dropped into the pit of your stomach. This time, you couldn’t help the way your expression dropped. “Sir, that’s really not what I—”

“It’ll be worse the longer you put it off.” You weren’t dangerous. You weren’t a criminal. You weren’t strong, but Wriothesley was. Before you could so much as push yourself to your feet, his arm was around your waist and he was perched on the edge of the cot, one leg tucked underneath him to make more room for your body, soon pulled between his thighs. The back of your shoulder screamed where it pressed into his chest, but you managed to swallow the little, pitiful sound threatening to bubble past your lips and clung to your sheet – suddenly so much thinner than it’d seemed, seconds prior. If Wriothesley noticed your apparent panic, the distress of his prisoners was an inconvenience he was willing to endure. Only half-consciously, you tried to shove yourself away from him, but his muscle-bound arm was snaked around your waist before you could gain any distance, keeping you flush against his broad chest. He was so much bigger than you’d realized, when he was on the other side of that desk, when he was engraving something intrusive and permanent into the very fabric of your being. This had been a bad idea. Trusting anyone here had been a bad idea. You should never have—

Your elbow slammed into his diaphragm, and Wriothesley let out a slow grunt, his fingers burrowing into the plush of your side. “Easy now, love,” he half-muttered, half-breathed, bowing his head to speak into the side of your throat. “We had a deal, remember? Can you tell me what it was?”

“You—you said I wouldn’t get hurt if—” You forced yourself to stop, to swallow, to breathe. “But, I only agreed to get one tattoo, and you—”

“I said I’d take care of you. Get you a nice, cushy job with the fortress administrator, keep you out of any over-crowded bunks, make sure the other prisoners don’t cause you any trouble – that kind of thing. I’m really not supposed to play favorites, so even doing that much is going to take more than a little discretion on my part.”

“But, you offered to—”

“I said I’d take care of you, and I’m going to.” You could see him fishing something off of the bedside table with his free hand, but you forced yourself not to look, not to make the ever-growing pit in your stomach feel that much more hollow. “You’ve heard a few stories about what it’s like in the underworld, right? I try to keep all of you nice n’ safe, but a few are bound to fall through the cracks. Rehabilitation can only do so much and—well, I’m sure you know all about how bloodthirsty desperation can make someone.” There was a pause, an ebbing lull to the tenderness in his voice. “I’m just trying to keep you safe, sweetheart. Are you going to help me get a little practice in, while I do that?”

Practice. If he wanted practice, you were sure there were another hundred prisoners who’d willingly lay down and let him carve a hole through whatever he wanted to. Still, you did your best to calm yourself down, to stop thrashing, to shut your eyes and try to ignore the large, pulsing thing you could feel pressing into your ass. You didn’t nod, didn’t give him permission, but when his fist balled around the infirmary sheet and tugged it away from you, the only resistance you managed to scrape up was a slight frown and a wary glance in his direction. “You’re already in for a rough night,” he explained, as if that was any excuse. “Might as well get the hardest one out of the way first, right?”

You refused to let yourself linger on the implication that this wasn’t going to be the last, too.

You clenched your eyes shut as his large hand pawed at the right side of your chest, kneading into the softened flesh with an almost delicate sort of care. “It’s easier after a little stimulation,” he murmured, as if that meant he had to spend so long circling your nipple with a calloused thumb, occasionally swiping over the sensitive bud in a way that made your thighs twitch and your face burn. When your nipple was stiff and pebbled, he pulled away, but it was a momentary reprieve – torn away from you with a splash of freezing disinfectant. It dripped down your chest and filled the stagnant air with a thick, chemical haze as Wriothesley caught your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching tightly. You felt the long, curved tip of his piercing needle against your skin, and braced yourself for the pain. Wriothesley wasn’t kind enough not to drag it out, though. “Wanna count me down?”

You shook your head, pushing yourself that much closer to his chest, desperate for any kind of stability. You’d hoped that Wriothesley would take your clear obstinance as a sign not to drag it out any longer, but he seemed to savor it – the agony of the wait, the way the dread seemed to multiply tenfold every time you forced yourself to suck in a ragged inhale. Seconds seemed to pass like frozen honey, only just beginning to drip. You’d started to think he wouldn’t do it, that he’d just laugh and admit this was all part of some bizarre, invasive hazing ritual when Wriothesley let out an airy chuckle and plunged his needle into you.

Oh, archons.

You really thought the tattoo would’ve been worse.

It was faster, at least; a bright shock of pain followed immediately by a steady, throbbing sort of ache that seemed to drown out every other sensation and fill your mind with a buzzing, numbing static. You didn’t realize your eyes had shot open on reflex until tears blurred your vision, until you glanced down just in time to watch as he dragged the needle through and replaced it with a small, silver stud – a barbell, as wrong as it felt to think of yourself having something so vulgar attached to you. You were crying unabashedly by the time he finished, pain and humiliation dripping down your cheeks in hot, wet streams, but Wriothesley’s shallow pool of sympathy must’ve run dry. “Ah, don’t make that face, sweetheart – we’re only halfway done.” You felt him panting into the crook of your neck as his hand found the other side of your chest. The last threads of his veil of composure frayed and broke apart as he groped unabashedly at your chest, toying with your nipple as your sobs echoed off of the clinic walls. You felt something thick and hot and wet crash against your collarbone and drip down the curve of your chest, and forced yourself to believe it was only disinfectant. That there was nothing it could’ve been except disinfectant.

Wriothesley’s hips rocked against your ass, the rigid outline of his cock pressing into you, incinerating any lingering delusions you might’ve had of helpful prison wardens exchanging one favor for another. Five fingers bit into the plush of your chest as he brought his needle to your unmutilated nipple, his hand surprisingly steady despite the airy, drawling moans he was pouring into your throat. “P-please don’t,” you managed, fighting to speak above the pathetic cries and choking fear doing their best to strangle out your voice. “Please, I can’t—I don’t want to—”

But, Wriothesley wasn’t listening. It wasn’t a spark, this time, but a red-hot knife, stabbed deep into your chest and twisted as far as it could go. You heard Wriothesley let out a rough groan, felt something warm and damp against your ass, and then, you were gone.

~

You startled awake hours later; bolting upright as you heaved in jolting, uneven inhales. Immediately, pain knocked you out of your panicked daze – sharp and piercing, imbedded into the back of your shoulder and either side of your chest, strong enough to remind you to measure out your breathing and calm down before you blindly threw yourself back into a seething pit of violent criminals. It took you a second to realize that you weren’t on an undersized infirmary cot, anymore, and another to piece together where he’d taken you – a bedroom nearly triple the size of your bunk. The warden’s chambers, you figured, as you scanned over the limited decoration and piles of dust-coated paperwork stacked onto every possible surface. Wriothesley’s room.

Wriothesley’s bed, at that. A cold chill ran down your spine as you realized that he’d taken the time to strip you out of your ill-fitting coveralls and redress you in a shirt sizes too big to be one of yours – the bleached, threadbare material a stark contrast to the satin sheets draped over your legs. You started to push them away and move towards the edge of the mattress, but froze as a door on the far side of the room creaked open – Wriothesley slipping inside and letting the door shut behind him. He moved away from it quickly, but as it closed, you could’ve sworn you heard the muffled, deafening click of a lock sliding into place and cutting you off from the rest of the world – or, the rest of the underworld, rather. As if there was anyone out there who would bother to save you, even if they could try.

“There’s my sleeping beauty.” He grinned as he lowered himself on the side of the bed, positioning himself closer to you than he absolutely had to. He reached out, moving to cup your face, but quickly let his hand fall back to his side when you flinched away. His smile dimmed, but didn’t fall away. “Get a chance to see the improvements, yet?”

After a second of hesitation, you shook your head, and he nodded to your chest - the gesture more of an order than a suggestion. Reluctantly, you pinched your collar between two fingers and peeled away from your skin. Through the narrow sliver, you could see his handiwork: a pair of twin rings hanging from either nipple, connected by a thin, lax, silver chain – so light, you could barely feel it brushing your diaphragm as the air caught in your chest.

You dropped the collar before you could give in to the nausea beginning to coil in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t bear to look at Wriothesley, so you kept your eyes on the sheets, kneading at the fabric half-consciously as you struggled to find your voice. “That wasn’t what we agreed to,” you muttered, mostly under your breath. “Can I go back to my bunk, now?”

His smile took on an almost apologetic note. You tried again. “Am I... Am I going to be able to leave?”

This time, when he reached out, flinching away wasn’t enough to stop him – his hand catching your chin and drawing you that much closer to him. You tried to lurch away, but it was too late, his lips were already crashing into yours, his tongue already slipping past your teeth and raking over your own. While your eyes widened in shock, his went half-lidded, closing just a second too late. Abruptly, it occurred to you that you’d never really noticed the color of his eyes – a pale, faded blue. The color of the half-formed flowers currently stretching across your back.

Wriothesley’s hand slipped to the nape of your neck. You let your eyes fall shut, and did your best not to think at all.

[thestarlightexpress]

Kinktober Day 3 - Foursome - Bat Boys x Reader

TW: Sexual themes, praise, etc.

word count = 2.6k words

NSFW below the cut

Lipstick, heels, and jewelry - all the accessories you needed to pull tonight’s outfit together. This was the first time in a while that you had been able to just go out and spend a night with your family. With Mor and Amren out on missions, you had planned to just spend the night with your boys getting very drunk and dancing. Rita’s dancefloor hadn’t seen the type of action you had planned in decades.

You touched up your makeup and gave yourself a once-over in the mirror before leaving your room and heading towards the living room right on time.

Unfortunately, you were greeted by your three stubborn bats who were decidedly not dressed appropriately for a night of good old-fashioned drunken revelry. You marched up to them with your hands on your hips and huffed, “Oh by the Cauldron, what the hell is this? Why are you not ready?”. 

Cassian threw back his head and barked out a laugh while Rhys threw a placating, courtly smile your way to appease you. “We figured it might be a better idea to keep the party here, can’t have you getting distracted by any pretty fae while we’re supposed to be spending time together.”, Rhys added a playful wink. You rolled your eyes and pouted your lips at the dig at your tendency to wander while out with them. 

“And you couldn’t have told me this before I got all dressed up?”, you questioned him with a seething glare.

To your left, Azriel shifted in his place on the couch and his eyes grazed up and down your firm before a smirk settled on his face. “Well then you would be here all pretty and dolled up for, now would you?” His heated gaze caused a rosy blush to sit on your cheeks as his hand slid up your thigh to play with the hem of your dress that conveniently ended right under the curve of your ass. 

Before you had a chance to retort, his rough palms gripped your waist and pulled you down onto the couch next to him with your legs draped over his lap. Cassian and Rhys shared a humorous eye roll, knowing how close you and Azriel are - often not seeing one without the other. Whether they picked up on the thinly veiled sexual tension between you two, you weren’t sure. 

Rhys placed a warm hand on your knee before standing up. “Relax, princess. I’ll break out the good wine and you don’t even have to pay for it.” 

You rolled your eyes and whispered under your breath as he sauntered over to the wine cellar, “Not like you weren’t going to pay for it anyway.”

As Azriel wrapped a strong arm around your waist and pulled you into his side, you felt Rhys slip into your mind. 

I heard that, darling. 

You lightly chuckled and smiled to yourself before commenting with a sarcastic tone lacing your words.

You were meant to, my Lord.

Rhys speedily returned with copious amounts of wine and 4 glasses. Hours later and multiple glasses later, you found yourself quite tipsy and giggly. You were still nestled into Azriel’s side. When Cassian started to recount one of your most recent escapades at Rita’s, you blushed madly and curled to hide your face and embarrassed laughter into Az’s chest. 

You felt Azriel’s small snicker through his chest, “C’mon Cass, I’m sure that she doesn’t remember that moment quite as fondly as you do.” You peeked your head out and started to lazily stretch out of his hold. 

“To be fair Cass, he was quite pretty. You could’ve done without hitting him.” Cassian beamed over at you, completely unaffected by you chastising him. 

“Who’s going to defend your honor if we don’t? People have to know who you belong to after all.”, he added with a wink. 

You scoffed as you hopped off the couch. As you headed to the kitchen for a snack, you made sure to ruffle Cassian’s hair on the way, “I think we both know I can handle myself, General.” 

He made sure to call out to you before you disappeared into the kitchen, “Just because you can, sweetheart, doesn’t mean you should have to.”

You returned from the kitchen having peeled an orange and shared it with your boys before sitting back down on Azriel with your legs stretched over Rhys’ lap. Rhys gripped your ankles before glancing over at you with a mischievous smirk, “I have an idea - let's play Truth or Dare, or well Truth or Drink I guess.” Despite knowing they were likely just going to joke around, you had a bad feeling.

After a few rounds where you all got progressively more drunk, you had pretty much lost all propriety and common sense. So much so that you didn’t even mind when the questions started to take an erotic turn. 

Rhys proposed a question to all of you - “So sexually speaking, what’s something you’re not willing to do.” 

Everyone shared a look before simultaneously laughing. “Hey! I’m serious, I’m just curious.”, Rhys managed to get out through a sea of snickers. 

You weren’t planning on answering but you figured you couldn’t embarrass yourself more than you already had. You always thrived well within chaos. “Well, me personally, I’m not a big fan of being told what to do.” 

A beat of silence passed as the boys shared a look with each other. Another mute moment, it seemed that they were talking without you. You scooched back on Azriel’s lap, completely missing the strangled groan you tore from his lungs, “You know, it’s not quite nice to leave someone out of a conversation in front of them. Care to clue a lady in?” 

Azriel pulled you back to his chest with one arm before pulling your hair back and whispering in your ear. “Let’s be serious now, love. We all know that you can be a good girl for the right person.” 

Your eyes fluttered shut as he started to kiss and nip down your neck. Your breath hitched as you tried to collect your thoughts. “Az, wha-what are you doing?” 

He smirked as he sucked a bruise into the crook of your neck. “Calm down, little one. I’m sure they don’t care, do you boys?” At Azriel’s subtle nudge, Rhys slid over on the couch, throwing one leg over the arm. Cassian laid back in his armchair, preparing for whatever the hell Azriel had planned. 

Azriel picked you up and sat you back down on the couch. He sat on the other arm of the couch and placed a hand on your back to steady himself. His other hand came up to your jaw and angled your head up toward him, “Now, if you can be a good girl, then I think we can all have some fun, yeah?” You looked up into the sea of greens and browns in front of you and quickly nodded your head. 

Azriel rubbed his thumb over your lower lip before leaning down and kissing you. Your stomach leaped up to your chest as you melted into him. His tongue slipped into your mouth as a hand tangled in your hair. You were utterly distracted by everything Azriel was giving you and you didn’t even notice that Rhys was inching closer and closer to you. Your breath hitched in your throat as Rhys’ hand slid up your bare thigh and up towards your hip. 

One of Rhys’ hands rested on your stomach while the other went up to your neck. He gently pulled you away from Azriel and caught your attention. His violet eyes sparked at the blissed look on your face and your puffy lips. “Do you trust us, darling?”, he softly spoke as his hand wrapped in your hair. 

“Of course, Rhys.”, you whispered while getting lost in his eyes. He quickly picked you up and moved to place you on the chaise lounge next to the couch. 

Rhys kneeled next to you, “Make sure to let us know if anything makes you feel uncomfortable or if it’s too much.”. He leaned in to kiss you as you hummed in agreement. One hand slipped around to your back and started to unzip your dress and it fell down around you.

You felt like you had stepped into an alternate dimension, there was no way that this was happening. An hour ago, you had been having a good time with your best friends and now all three of them were about to fuck you. And you were definitely going to let them.

You were pulled out of your internal monologue by the chilled wind against you. Only a sheer black slip covering your chest and barely reaching past your ass. A rosy blush stained your cheeks as you glanced at the boys, all of them seemingly distracted by you. “For the record, I’m feeling quite alone over here. Are you all just going to stare at me or get on with it?”.

Rhys darkly chuckled next to you before pulling your hair back to arch your neck. He snapped his fingers and misted their clothes into the void, leaving all of them in their undershorts. “Better?”, his hand lightly traced down your bare arm.

You looked up at him and smirked, “Much.” While you had intended to keep his attention, you found yourself distracted by how clearly you could see all three of them and the evident bulges under their shorts. 

Cassian slowly rose from his spot on the armchair across from you, where he had been watching all of this play out. He sauntered over to stand in front of you. He sweetly smiled but you could see the mischief hiding within his gaze. He grasped your ankle and pulled you forward so only your torso was lying on the lounge. The slip you were wearing floated up to barely cover your breasts. He smirked at you before slowly sinking down with his face in between your thighs. 

He took his time and teasingly placed searing open-mouth kissing up your legs. He hiked your legs on top of his shoulders before placing a teasing kiss on your clit. Before you could take a breath, he gripped your thighs and dove into your wet pussy - licking up your arousal. You threw your head back and writhed on the chair at the much-needed stimulation. 

You pushed yourself up to lean back on your forearms. Rhys tugged the slip off of you and immediately started to kiss your neck, working his way down to your nipples. You were already seeing stars and could barely pay attention. Azriel appeared next to you, twirling your hair around his fingers as one of his shadows came to float around your neck and shoulders. “You enjoying yourself, love?”.

The touch grounded you and you smiled up at him, taking your time grazing your eyes up his body. Your soft palm grasped his thigh and inched up to his hips. You brushed over his bulge and he let out a low groan as you gripped his hard cock through his shorts. He bit his lip at the wicked look in your eyes and tugged on your hair, “You want more, baby? So needy.”

You licked your lips before looking back up at him, “Well you can’t just stand there and tease me and not expect me to act on it.” You gripped the waistband of his shorts and slowly tugged them down, revealing his obscenely large cock. You tentatively wrapped your hand around it and gave it a few testing strokes. You were already on the verge of drooling just at the thought of having his cock in your mouth.

His hand replaced yours and angled your mouth over towards him. You reached out and took the weeping head into your mouth. The hiss he released sounded like music to your ears. You quickly gained confidence and took more and more of his heavy cock into your mouth, tongue swirling around him. Azriel’s grip on your hair tightened, you could tell he was holding back.

Once you were comfortable with the sheer size of his member, you looked up into his eyes and nodded. He placed another hand along your jaw and the side of your neck. You relaxed your jaw as he started to slowly thrust into your mouth. While you did have to keep yourself from gagging, the sensual feeling of his cock dragging in and out of your lips sent a new wave of arousal right to your center. 

You moaned around his cock as you felt Cass thrust two fingers into your wet cunt as he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked harshly. The constant stimulation was almost too much - Az in your mouth, Rhys playing with your tits, and Cass sucking your soul out through your soaked center. You could all hear how wet you were, quickly barrelling towards your release. 

Azriel gently wrapped a hand around your throat, “Fuck baby, you’re so wet for us. You ready to cum for us?” Your eyes fluttered as your mind started to go fuzzy. It took all of your energy to look up at him and nod. He started to buck his hips into you harder, seeing how much it turned you on to let him use your mouth. This finally pushed you over the edge, clenching around Cassian’s fingers and whimpering around Azriel’s cock. 

Azriel made sure to gently wipe the tears from your cheeks while he worked you through your orgasm. However, you weren’t given much time to recover when Cass and Rhys switched places - Cassian kissing up and down your torso while Rhys positioned himself between your legs. Rhys gripped the base of his cock and ran the head through your soaked folds. He stepped closer to you and easily slipped into your messy cunt. 

The addicting stretch already had you nearing the edge again. Rhys firmly gripped your leg and tossed it over his shoulder, reveling at the new angle. He slowly groaned at the tight grip your pussy had on him as he fucked into you. 

Azriel glanced down at his brother roughly fucking you and started to feel himself getting close. He slowed down his thrusts and gingerly pushed his cock farther down until it brushed against the back of your throat, coaxing a shaky moan out of him. “That’s it, baby girl. You’re doing such a good job, taking us all so well, just like that.” 

Rhys lowly growled before kissing and biting into the skin on your knee to muffle his groans. You tightened around his cock, feeling him twitch and start to spill into you - his warm cum filling you up and making you groan around Azriel’s cock as your second orgasm crashed into you. 

Az suddenly stilled and pulled back so the tip of his cock rested on your tongue. A whiny groan was the only notice you got before he released in your mouth. You slowly sucked his cock, pulling him through his orgasm. He finally pulled out of you, letting your jaw rest.

“Open your mouth, baby.”. Your jaw dropped open, showing him his cum sitting on your tongue. He smirked before grasping your face and spitting your mouth. He tilted your chin up as you swallowed all of his release. He leaned down and kissed you, tasting himself on your tongue. “I told you you could be a good girl, didn’t I?”.

Kinktober Tag List:

@honethatty12 @sweet-chai-amore @helo1281917 @scarsandallaz @thatacotargirl @a-courtof-azriel @lmadness @riorgail @lilah-asteria @littlepippilongstocking @d3ad-ins1de @paleidiot @holypizzaqueen

[sturnioz]

‘AFTER A FIGHT’ — CHRIS & MATT REACTION.

⟶ reaction idea. their reaction to sleeping on the couch after a fight. requested? yes / no(✔)

genre. fluff & angst

☆ . . . chris !

you let out a frustrated huff, plumping the cushion behind your head as you try to get comfortable on the couch you've decided to spend the rest of the night on — anything to avoid being near chris and his attitude.

truthfully, you both share the blame. you and chris stubbornly refused to back down, letting a petty argument spiral until you could barely remember what started it all. but your pride won't let you accept that you're in the wrong too, not when giving in would mean admitting defeat.

so, you've exiled yourself to the living room, your jaw clenched as you fight the urge to march back to the bedroom and demanded the last word so you could sleep comfortably in a warm bed.

you grumble at your own foolishness, flinging an arm over your face as you sigh heavily, hoping to get some sleep. but you struggle to do so when you hear slow, deliberate footsteps approach, your heart pounding rapidly.

chris appears in your peripheral, face unreadable as he stands over you, a knitted blanket clutched tight in his hands.

for a long, agonising moment, you expect him to turn and leave. but then he's lowering himself down, the cushions dipping as he wedges his body next to yours, his arms encircling you with a gentleness that makes your throat tighten.

he buried his face in the curve of your neck, his breath warm against your skin as he exhales deeply.

"much better," he murmurs, and you can hear the unspoken apology laced between the words. "goodnight."

☆ . . . matt !

"i'm fuckin' tired. i'm done with this." matt's words still echo in your mind, scorching like a brand. the image of him grabbing his pillow and blanket to sleep on the couch instead of beside you is seared into your memory. in your head even after half an hour of the argument you had, the image of him collecting his pillow and spare blanket to go sleep in the living-room instead of sleeping beside you scorches your mind.

you and matt have been at each others throats for weeks, the smallest of things spiralling into bitter arguments. tonight's fight was no different — you coming over a little later than planned, matt's immediate interrogation the moment you walked through the bedroom door. the familiar pattern, the ugly cycle of accusations and hurt feelings, until matt finally threw up his hands and retreated.

you hate sleeping alone. even after your worst fights, matt would always climb back into bed with you, his warmth and the comfort of his embrace always making the situation simmer. but tonight, the comfort is absent, and the void it leaves behind is a physical ache.

restless, you decide to venture out to the living room, your steps tentative. an uncomfortable pang hits when you see matt curled up on the couch, one hand tucked behind his head with the other rests limply on his chest, rising and falling with each slow, even breath.

he looks so exhausted, and the unbearable guilt twists in your gut.

softly, you call his name, watching as his eyes peel open and he sits up. the sadness etched into the lines of his face makes your heart clench.

"do you.. do you think we argue too much?" the question you ask hangs heavy between you, your pulse pounding in your ears when he gives you a slow, reluctant nod, and you feel the ground shift beneath your feet. "maybe.. maybe we should—"

"i know," matt cuts in, his voice filled with defeat. his hand reaches out, fingers lacing with your as you step closer. "lets just.. forget for tonight, okay? lets just be together for one last night."

© sturnioz

[areyouwell]

Hi!!! I really love your work- photophobia is my favorite piece of fanfiction ever!!

I don't know if your requests are still open but if they are and you feel inspired I'd like to request a one-shot where Logan and reader are caught having sex by a member of the x-men (you can decide who!!) I'd love to see your take on it <3

Like Animals

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Mutant!F!Reader

Warnings: MDNI

Word count: 3.4k

A/N: im sorry this took so long ;-; work's been driving me crazy and i've been creatively constipated BUT i really liked this request and ngl i was laughing to myself when writing it hehehe. also not sure if this counts as a oneshot or a drabble since it's kinda short but i hope this is what you had in mind!

Taglist: @fries11 (i had a taglist for Phobophobia but this is a more general one if anyone wants to be on it lmk <3)

How many steps could one person do in a single day? It was a question you idly entertained whilst pacing across the floor of the kitchen, having been asked to politely remove yourself from movie night by a mildly irritated Kitty when you were unable to sit still. You’d spent most of your day like this. Anxiously, mindlessly marching from place to place, your body humming with anticipation since yesterday evening. 

It was the longest you and Logan had been apart since the start of your relationship a year and a half ago, and fuck you missed him. It had been roughly three weeks since he’d left, Charles trusting him with gathering intel on some new fucked up mutant slave trade just south of the school. He’d called you, of course he had, and you knew it was purely just to hear your voice, but his calls were few and far between. He was busy, incredibly busy. And whilst you tried to keep yourself busy too, it was hard not to think about him constantly. Not to wonder how he was doing, whether he was okay. If he missed you just as much as you missed him.

But you were pacing because he was supposed to be coming home today. Supposed to, if everything had gone well. Scott was almost as excited as you were, but only because he was happy to finally have his bike back. He was almost inconsolable when he went into the garage to see his prized possession had once again been stolen, and you tried everything you could to hide your amused grin. It was so typical of him, for his last act before he was gone for three weeks to be something that would piss off Scott. 

Fuck you loved him. 

You checked the clock on the wall for the thirtieth time that minute, the hands mocking you with the rhythmic clicking. Quarter past nine. He was supposed to be back an hour ago. Hence the anxious pacing. You resisted the urge to call him, hoping that maybe the traffic was just bad, or he got held up for some reason. He was okay. Of course he was okay. This was Logan you were thinking about. He was always okay. He had to be okay. 

Your teeth gnawed on your bottom lip cursing lowly as you didn’t focus on where you were going and smacked your hip into the corner of the table. If only he knew the things he id to you when he was away. 

With a brief pause, you debated whether or not to go back to movie night. Whilst you had no idea what was happening onscreen, being unable to focus, you think you could understand the fairly basic premise of Night at the Museum. Some guy spends a night at a museum. How complex could that actually be? But remembering Kitty’s flat stare of knowing, you thought better of it. She’d been helpful in distracting you for the last three weeks, but clearly, you’d worn down her patience. Not that you could blame the girl. She called you out for being too codependent on him, and whilst at the time you refuted the claim, you couldn’t help thinking she may have had a point. Maybe.

You weren’t codependent. You just loved him. A lot. Enough to constantly be by his side every minute of every day. And it wasn’t like he was any different. 

Another minute ticked by and you clenched your jaw. Had he gotten lost or something? Why was he making you wait longer than you needed to? Of course it wasn’t deliberate, even if he wanted to, you don’t think he had the strength to do that, deprive you both of the other’s presence, but he really picked a time to be an hour late. 

You crossed to the window, pulling back the curtain for the umpteenth time and waiting for longer than you should for the peek of headlights around the drive. But there was nothing. Just the moonlit grass and silhouette of trees. You huffed, throwing the curtain back into place. Footsteps echoed through the hallway towards the kitchen, and you dragged a hand down your face. 

“I’m fine, Scott. Just… getting kinda worried now. He should have been back an hour ago.” You couldn’t help pulling back the curtain again, as if anything would have changed in the last twenty seconds. 

“Scott? Seriously?”

Oh. That was not Scott. 

You whipped around, heart soaring as you knew that voice instantly. You could be deaf and still know the sound of his voice. Your lips split into a broad grin as you saw Logan standing in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, brow raised with a wry smile pulling at his lips. 

“Logan!” You beamed, racing across the room to all but tackle him. He dropped his leather bag to the floor, wrapping his arms around around your middle, spinning with the momentum of your jump. Your legs anchored around his waist, ankles locking at the small of his back as you let yourself bask in his presence, inhaling the familiar scent of cigars and wood smoke. 

“Hi darlin’. Sorry ‘m late.” He breathed, tightening his hold on you more for comfort than anything else. The tightness in his chest finally eased with the feeling of having you back in his arms. Logan always thought of himself as a lone wolf. An outsider. Someone who didn’t need anybody else. That was until he met you and fell absolutely head over heels. Now he could barely stand to be on his own for longer than five minutes before he’d find himself sorely missing your presence. So the last three weeks had been as torturous for him as they had been for you. 

Removing your face from the crook of his neck, you schooled your expression into a scowl. “Where the fuck have you been? An hour, Logan. I haven’t seen you in three weeks and you make me wait another hour?!”

He rolled his eyes at your dramatics, smirking as your furrowed brows deepened. “Roads were closed. Fuckin’ tree blocked the way so I had to turn back n’ find another way round.” He explained, and you reluctantly accepted it. “Not that you missed me or anythin’.”

“Me? Miss you?” you quirked a brow, your scowl dissolving into a mischievous smirk. “In your dreams, Howlett.”

Before he had a chance to quip back, you wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging tight as your lips crashed into his, dragging a quiet groan from his throat as he tasted longing passion on your tongue. His hands slid from your back to your thighs and oh how you missed the way he would grip them, leaving little purple bruises where he dug his fingers into your soft flesh. 

Your brows pinched as he shifted to pin you against the wall, palms kneading your ass whilst he ground his rapidly hardening cock against your clothed heat. You whimpered lightly as his touches became desperate, your teeth tugging at his bottom lip, eliciting a sharp gasp from the depths of his chest. Shifting from his neck, your nails dug into the hard muscles of his shoulders, leaving little crescent dents across the sinewy skin before you the brown flannel from his arms. It was barely clinging on anyway, so why not assist the fall?

“Where’s everyone?” He ground, lips fanning against your lower jaw as he moved to pepper tingling kisses and aching bruises along the column of your neck, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin above your pulse point. You angled your head to the side, allowing him easier access, the scuff of his beard scratching deliciously against the hollow of your throat.

“Movie night– Logan…!” you gasped his name as quietly as you could when his hands left the plush of your ass, using your grip around his waist and the wall to hold you aloft whilst he pawed and kneaded at your breasts through your t-shirt, braless nipples hardening almost instantly. He pinched the pebble through the fabric, tugging slightly and silencing your whine with a burning kiss, hungrily devouring your mouth before you alerted anyone in the living room to the new show playing in the kitchen. 

He growled a gravelly “Good” against your lips, removing your arms from his shoulders to raise above your head, pulling your shirt up and off in a hurried frenzy, almost snarling to himself as you bared yourself for him. You shivered slightly, though not from the cold, quite the opposite. The heat radiating off him kept you warm as you scrabbled to return the favour, your nails scratching at his naval before pulling up the white singlet and discarding it to the ground alongside your own shirt. Your hands fell to his belt, his mouth delivering little bites to your collarbone. Fuck, you needed him now. You needed him yesterday. Hell, you needed him the day he left, because fucking yourself with your fingers wearing his flannel was nothing in comparison to the ecstasy of fucking yourself on his cock. 

“Need you,” you breathed, popping open the button atop his jeans and pulling down the zipper over the incredibly obvious and likely extremely uncomfortable tent in his pants. Logan groaned slightly against your neck in relief, the tip of his cock pulsing and leaking with need. He hadn’t been this desperate for you since–

What the fuck was he saying? He was always desperate for you. In any way, shape or form. For whatever you were willing to give him. Though, luckily enough, you were usually willing to give him everything. 

“Fuck princess, ‘can smell you. Smell so fuckin’ good.” he growled directly into your ear, hot breath sending shivers down your spine. You really didn’t care that you were in the kitchen, nor did you care when he carefully tore through the crotch of your sweatpants with a single claw. Your arousal clouded his senses, the sweet scent of need making his hips buck into you. Especially when he dipped his hand through the tear to find you were naked beneath. “No underwear? You did miss me.” He grinned the same smile as a predator, and you clamped your lips together to stop your own disobedient smile. 

“‘Was in my pyjamas… at least, they were my pyjamas.” You hissed, brows pinching as a curious, delicate finger softly grazed through your slick folds, gathering your dewy arousal on the tip of his fingers before bringing them up to his mouth. A carnal groan rumbled from his chest as he tasted you, his eyes rolling before they closed. Your mouth fell open, chest rising and falling in rapid pants as one of your hands shoved the elastic of his briefs down below his hips, just far enough for his desperate cock to spring from his confines. 

“Impatient?” He smirked darkly as you attempted to grind against him, having to clench your jaw to stop yourself from whining. You shot him an equally wicked look, earning yourself a brow raise before his jaw slackened, your hand circling his length in a tight palm, jerking him from base to tip and using your thumb to slather the head of his cock in his own yearning. He bucked into your hand, a gasp flying from his lips before you slid him through the tear in your sweatpants. But before you could coerce him to drive home, he pulled you from the wall. 

With a small squeak of surprise, your nails clung to his back, tearing angry marks up his spine as he set you back down on the table, leaning over you until you were lying against the solid wood. 

“Say you missed me,” he growled with a smile, clearly deriving pleasure from the way you huffed in frustration. You only responded by raising your hips into his, grinding your now-soaked crotch against his throbbing cock. “C’mon baby, just say it, ‘n I’ll give you everything you want.” he bargained, though finding it incredibly difficult to deny you. He grunted a soft curse when you locked your legs tighter around his waist, forcing his sensitive tip to graze through your aching heat. Fuck he wanted you. But at the same time, he really wanted to hear you say it. “C’mooon, say you missed me. Can’t really deny it.”

“Fuck, yes I missed you. Of course I missed you. Now fuck me already!” You spat through gritted teeth, but he still didn’t claim you the way you wanted him to. 

“How much?”

“Logan?!”

“How much? How much did you miss me?” He grinned and you groaned in frustration. Trust him to find the worst times to wind you up. With a deep breath, you leaned up, holding both sides of his neck as you took the shell of his ear between your teeth. 

“I fucked myself wearing your clothes, whining your name, imagining my fingers were your fingers. Imagining that stupid silicon cock was your cock. That’s how much I missed you.” You whispered, earning yourself a needy groan from the man above you. 

His hips moved as if they had a mind of their own, his hand guiding himself through the ruins of your sweatpants to sink into your leaking cunt, and you both gasped airily at the sensation. Incrementally, Logan pushed inside you, savouring the pulse of your silken walls, the pitch of your trapped whines behind a wall of teeth and lips. Oh how he wanted to hear you, but somewhere in the back of his pleasure-addles mind, he was glad you were keeping quiet. At least one of you was still aware of the time and place. 

Slowly he bottomed out, pressing the coarse hairs of his pelvis against your clit. Taking your hand in his, he trapped it by the side of your head, knuckled turning white as he fought to resist the urge to cum there and then. You felt so fucking good. How did you always feel so fucking good?

“F-fuck, Logan… move.” You hissed, your hips undulating in desperate pumps as you attempted to get him to do something other than just fill you. It felt incredible, but you needed more. What you didn’t realise was that he was hypersensitive. He’d been without you for the last three weeks, with nothing but your voice on the other side of his phone and his own fist to satisfy his craving for you. And it did nothing but make it worse. Did nothing but make him harder for you. 

“Easy, princess. Not– fuck… not goin’ anywhere.” He swore as you deliberately clenched around him, slowly pulling back until only his tip was submerged in your heat, before pushing back in, having to sink his teeth into the meat of your shoulder to muffle his loud groan of ecstasy. You clawed at his closed fist, sharp nails digging into the three spaces where his claws would slide out—an unknown erogenous zone.

Until now.

His cock jumped inside you, shivers of pure electric honey quivering down his spine as he slammed his hips into yours, momentarily losing control of himself. “Shit… shit! Fuck that was– what did you–” 

You did it again, watching his features fall completely slack, mouth agape as he bucked into you uncontrollably, as if searching for a deeper place to reach. Your chest inflated with a sharp gasp as the leaking, throbbing tip of his cock brushed that little bundle of pleasure nestled inside your walls, the tight leash you were holding on your voice loosening slightly as he thrust into you sharply, having found just the right angle. 

“Yes… fuck, yeah, there, right– shit, right there!” Your eyes fluttered closed, your body set alight as he set a determined pace, the table shifting slightly with each delicious thrust, your ecstasy climbing higher and higher and you let yourself be completely consumed by pleasure. 

“Yeah?” he growled, gasping into the side of your neck as your other hand scratched up his back as if you were trying to get past his regeneration and leave lingering marks. He loved it when you got rough, it drove him fucking crazy when you tried to leave your marks on him. There were times he hated his mutation for that because nothing would push him higher than knowing he could look in the mirror and see your desperation sucked into his neck or torn into his back. 

“Fuck! Logan, I–”

“Are you fucking serious?!”

At the first sound of a foreign voice outside of your bubble of rapture, your mutation flared, blinking both you and Logan out of sight. Though, if you could teleport, that would have been a whole lot more beneficial. Because now poor Scott had to bear witness to your spontaneous kitchen table tryst. 

Had to bear witness to Logan’s bare ass. You almost wished you had his perspective…

“Maybe he didn’t see us…” you whispered as quietly as you could, and though you couldn’t see Logan smile, you knew he was grinning from ear to ear. 

“I wouldn’t hold out hope.”

“I can fucking hear you. On the table? Seriously? Everyone eats there. I eat there!” He lamented, and you craned your neck to see he’d covered his already covered eyes with his hands, his face a nice shade of bright pink. 

“Like you and Jean are any more discrete in the danger room, Summers.” Logan barked, and you snorted a laugh which quickly turned into a gasp when he shifted slightly. You couldn’t even hide the way your cunt pulsed the moment you heard him walk in, and you knew Logan would have given you a look of intrigue. 

“That’s not– You’re still going?!”

“You kinda walked in at a bad time.” You could hear just how hard Logan was trying to keep his shit together whilst still being under the influence of your arousal, like a siren to a sailor. 

“Exactly. It’s rude to walk in on a lady without knocking, I could have been naked!” You bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning aloud as Logan shifted again, deliberately this time. Oh, how you wished you could see his face right now. 

“In the kitchen?!” 

You snorted a laugh, earning a low groan from Logan as your walls convulsed around his cock, your thighs tightening around his waist. You could almost hear his teeth grind together as he continued his battle to stop from pounding into you there and then. 

“You might wanna go, Scott. Logan’s getting impatient.”

“You can’t even see him, how’d you kn– OH FUCK’S SAKE!”  He huffed, turning on his heel and storming from the room, no doubt to tell Kitty and Ororo he’d just caught the two of you fucking like animals on the kitchen table. 

When you were certain he was gone, you released your grip on your mutation and the visage of Logan’s sweat-slicked face greeted you, a crooked grin pulling at his lips. 

“You liked that, didn’t you?” He asked lowly, nipping at your jaw. “Could feel you gushin’ around me, princess. You liked it when he walked in. You liked it when we got caught.” Feeling boneless, Logan pulled you up with him as he stood, sliding his still-hard cock from your twitching cunt. 

“Shut up…” You mumbled, attempting to latch your lips to his. But he pulled back from you, that same shit-eating grin still shining. With a huff, you hopped off the table, stooping to snatch your t-shirt from the ground. 

“My little exhibitionist. Who knew?” Logan wrapped his arms around your naked waist and you leaned back into his chest, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as you felt his cock press against your ass. “‘M not against extending invitations. Just to watch. Nobody gets to touch you but me.” He growled, a possessive edge cutting into his tone, one that made you slightly weak at the knees, as if you weren’t already struggling to stand. A fresh wave of arousal curled in your lower gut, and you turned in his arms, eyes like heated coals.

“Bedroom. Now.”

“Just the two of us?”

“Now, Logan!”

With a dark chuckle, he bent to pick you up, hands braced against the backs of your thighs much like he had when he first walked in. 

“Yes ma’am.” He murmured, before finally letting you capture his mouth with your own, teeth clashing and tongues dancing as he blindly carried you up to bed to finish what you both started. 

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Help me! I'm hypnotized...

The loser roommate I got stuck with did something to my brain. I didn't think it was possible, but that pathetic fag somehow put me in a trance. I don't remember how: with a pendant or spiral; but it doesn't matter! What matters is that at any second he can say a trigger word, and I end up like this: smiling and flexing like a fucking idiot 'till he releases me.

Sure, I look like I'm alright, but I've been stuck in this pose for two hours. My biceps ache and my shoulders are on fire. Add to that a leg cramp that I cant walk off and you'll realize how awful this torture is.

I'd just been trying to finish an essay (his essay to be exact.) I might be on the football team, but this lazy geek is forcing me to do his homework for him! And even though he ordered me to do that, against my will, he calls me up and says my fucking trigger word! It's fucking ridiculous! I used to go out and party with my teammates on nights like this, but now I'm stuck being this dweeb's mannequin-on-command.

I just know he's going to boss me around when he finally gets here. He'll probably make me cook him dinner again. I'd spit in it if I could -hell, I'd probably poison it if I could- but I know I'll be stuck in my own body again. I hate it when he tells me to smile and serve him like a waiter. God, its humiliating...

He makes me workout during my free time, which I have a lot of now that I can't speak to any of my old buddies. I gotta say that my body's never looked better. I guess their is one upside to being under his control: whenever he tells me to train harder, I have to do it.

The gym is the one area of my life where I can at least pretend that I'm not someone's trained monkey. Still, the fact that I can't even shower without his permission is a pretty harsh reminder. Whenever I get back from a workout, my legs march straight to the table where I sit, flex, and smile while I wait for him to tell me what to do. It doesn't matter how tired or hot I am. Sometimes, he doesn't even let me shower. He just tells me to mop the sweat up with my shirt and then put it back on.

I think the nerd has a thing for sweaty jocks or something. The thought of this creep making me do all this to get his little dick hard pisses me off more than anything...

I applied for a job today. It wasn't because I wanted to. My roommate decided that he wants more spending money, so he turned to me and said that I was going to earn it for him. So it wasn't enough for me to be his personal chef, maid, and eye candy! I have to be his fucking ATM now too?!

The tie wasn't my idea either. He told me to go buy some fancy clothes to make sure I impressed my "future employer." He's such a dweeb, and now he's making me dress like a loser too.

Obviously I nailed the interview. It wasn't hard when he programmed me to say things like "I've always wanted to deliver pizzas," or "I want to be the best employee you've ever had!" He made me sound like such a kiss-ass for a stupid minimum-wage job. Even the guy interviewing me thought I was being a bit excessive! I got hired on the spot, and I'm already scheduled every night this week, because my roommate specifically made me ask for as many hours as possible.

Now that I'm done with probably the most humiliating thing I've ever done, I'm stuck flexing with a tie on 'till that asshole gets home...

I got my first paycheck after a long couple of weeks doing his classwork during the day and delivering pizzas at night. My roommate texted and told me to wait by the front door with my paycheck. Apparently, he's going out tonight with some of his loser friends and wants the cash now. I can't believe I'm about to hand it over to him.

"Hey, handsome," he calls, shutting his car door.

"I'm glad your home, sir. How was your day?"

I do not give a shit about his day! He ordered me to say that whenever he gets back. He's also programmed me to get up and hug him like I'm a fucking queer in love!

"Better now," he purrs, squeezing my butt cheek while we hug, "You should come with me and my friends tonight."

The last thing I want to do is be around him and his pansy-assed friends. "Yes, sir," I smile.

"We're going to a gay bar, and I think you would be an excellent wingman."

My stomach drops at the sound of a gay bar. I don't want to be anywhere near that place, and I really don't want the guy with total control over me parading me around that place like I'm his fucking slut! Where is this going? He wouldn't make me do anything gay, right? The terrifying truth is he could. He could order me to act like a stripper there, or...or worse. Fuck! I don't think there's anything he couldn't make me do. He could order me on my knees right now, and I'd do it with this stupid smile still plastered across my face. He could make me blow his tiny cock, and I'd be helpless to do anything other than enthusiastically suck! I don't want to go to that gay bar. I have to escape.

"Yes, sir," I hear my voice gleefully ring out.

[ma1dita]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVEEEE <3

🐥 luke castellan x reader in a long distance relationship & he calls her after he’s had a few drinks bc he misses her (fluff or smut, whatever u want)

MWUAH

MDNI

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

a/n: loser!luke? more like whipped!luke, very whiny.... i believe in my heart he's an ass man but that's me being self-indulgent anyways smut but he just masturbates because he's a needy fuck

wc: 914

frances made me do it blame her i'm putting my phone away in fear

At first it was a good idea.

Picking colleges an hour away from each other seemed like the right thing to do, a very mature adult thing even—especially after spending a good four years of being attached to each other at Camp Half Blood. Personal growth, you both reasoned, and college was a great way to branch out and be independent. You didn’t need to be with each other 24/7, and seeing each other on weekends wasn’t all that bad. Luke couldn’t give less of a shit now though—he’s tipsy after downing a few Heinekens and all he can think about are very R-rated adult things he did with you last weekend when he went to visit. 

Some things never change, and he reckons he’d settle for anything you give him, whether it be a picture of your ass or the sound of your voice over the phone. His hands fumble with his belt buckle as he sprawls across the couch in his apartment. The sound of the phone ringing adds to his anticipation until he hears a click and your voice filters through like music to his ears.

“Miss me, baby?”

“Like you wouldn’t imagine,” he sighs, noticing his cock stand at attention at the few words that have left your mouth. He’s convinced you’re a witch of some sort—that or he’s been pavloved to feel hot at even the idea of you. Cheeks flushing, he can’t help but stick his hand in his boxers and stroke himself as you tell him about the paper you’re writing, steady tap-taps of your keyboard in the background as he strokes himself slowly. Your voice is hushed to not wake up your roommate, but well, his dick is fully awake at the sound of your murmurs. Only you could make the Ides of March sound sexy, and you quickly notice Luke’s not paying attention when you hear a low groan through the phone.

“You’re not even listening to me, babe,” you giggle, “my boy feeling needy?”

“I’m a man,” he whines, your laughter trickling through from your end and tickling every one of his senses as he spits into his hand and gets down to business just wishing you were here to help him. He even tries to tease his balls like how you would, but thinking too hard about it makes him aggravated.

“You’re crazy, Lu…” you whisper, “can feel how desperate you are from all the way over here.”

“Crazy for you. Whatcha wearing, hot stuff?” 

He smiles when you tell him you’re in those leggings he likes and Luke closes his eyes tightly as he fists his cock. Through the stars that dance in his vision he thinks he can smell you–all sweat and sweetness just how he likes. His head lolls onto his shoulder in desperation as his hand moves up and down adding pressure as he imagines your hole fluttering around him and taking him so well, covering him in your slick instead of his own pathetic spit. Luke’s tongue sticks out the side of his mouth as he concentrates. 

Gods you’re pretty when you ride him—the curve of your waist when you bounce in his lap and the crescent-shaped marks he leaves when he grabs onto your hips, forcing you down harder so that all you can both hear is the slapping of skin. Luke moans, a broken, almost shameful sound until he remembers he’s alone in the apartment tonight. 

You’re still tapping away at your keyboard unfazed by your boyfriend’s arousal.

“Poor baby, you close? What’s on your mind?”

“Mmmph…How your back arches when you ride me…Like the way you let me pull your hair,” he grits, his hand moving faster as precum drips over the precipice of his cock, swollen and angry and he’s almost there. The veins in his forearm look like they’re about to burst and he’s dizzy with want, his heart beating faster with his movements.

“Yeah? You know I like it when you need me. Wish I could be there and do that thing you like.” 

He can hear the grin in your voice as he shakes his head, breathing harder and groaning. He can see it so clearly in his head—feel the swivel of your hips as your pussy clenches down on every ridge of his cock, and all he can do right now is rub his thumb over the sensitive area as he gasps for air. 

“Got you baby, just let go for me…”

Luke hisses, spurts of hot, milky cum hitting the chiseled muscles of his abdomen, before he takes a deep breath. He hears you shut your laptop and the sound of you shuffling in your room.

“Didn’t even make it to Facetime this time around. Sorry baby, missed you bad,” he chuckles, taking another sip of now warm beer.

“It’s been four days, Luke,” you tease, “but I was hoping you’d return the favor.”

“Oh yeah? Lemme see your pretty face.”

He presses the button to Facetime, but you don’t answer, and the sound of a car starting catches his attention.

“Babe?”

“Unlike you, I’d rather have the real thing. See you in an hour,” you laugh, pulling out of your driveway.

“It’s Thursday!”

“And it’s my turn to drive up anyway, so you better fuck me so hard I’ll have a reason to call in sick. I’m driving as fast as I can, Lu!”

And what type of rational adult would he be to deny that?

[joeburrowshaircurl]

A Lovely Night

summary: You meet Joe for the first time at the movies. Set during the off season of 2024 after the Chiefs won the Super Bowl against the 49ers.

paring: Joe Burrow x shy anxious reader

warnings: fluff, anxious thoughts, social anxiety.

words: 1,502

a/n: sat down and cranked this out all at once. I don't know if I like it. Eyes hurt from proofreading multiple times so apologies if I missed something. For now this the only part. But it could have potential to be multiple parts depending if people like it or not? Maybe? Happy reading y'all!

Solo movie dates had become your thing, but it hadn't always been this way. There had been a time when you had struggled to leave the house for work. Sometimes those days still happened, but for the most part, you were proud of yourself for your newfound sense of freedom. It had taken a lot to get to this point. Watching movies and acting out movies with your friends had always been one of your favorite things to do growing up. As an adult, Saturday Night became a designated 'movie night' as a way to de-stress from the week. Whether it was at home, or at the cinema, depended on what was playing.

The one positive about Covid had been the shift to being able to get tickets online and pick your seat ahead of time so you could get your snacks, and head to your seat to look at your phone without anyone bothering you until the movie started. Or so you thought.

The first time you had seen the handsome tall man was in March during a showing of Dune: Part 2. He'd shown up with two other men after the lights dimmed for the preview trailers and you hated when people showed up late. It was pet peeve as yours, your anxiety often caused you to arrive at least 15 minutes early anywhere you went.

You tried your best to not watch the group as they made their way to their seats, which was in the same row as yours, but a few seats away. You caught glimpses of their faces, the tall one putting his hand up in apology before he sat down. You gave a polite smile before you looked away. Giving a small annoyed huff through your nose, you decided to take a small handful of popcorn and focus on the trailers until the movie started.

You had mentally prepared for the 2 hour and 46 minute run time of the movie, but as the credits rolled and you looked at your watch, you were shocked to see how much time had gone by already. You had been gripped by the movie from start to finish and as you stretched, you noticed the three men were gone which confused you. You hadn't noticed them leave. Did they leave early? Why did they come see Dune if they didn't like Sci-Fi? You brushed it from your mind, figuring you'd never see them again. Especially not the tall one.

The next time you went on a solo date to the movies was only a month later in April. Bill Skarsgård was one of your favorite actors and the movie also happened to release near your birthday so you had decided to see it. Yes you were spending your birthday weekend alone but at this point in your life, you had gotten used to it. You were planning on being a spinster for the rest of your life.

As you made your way to your seat, you had to go by a guy who had his hood up. Thankfully the aisle was large enough where you didn't have to get too close to him, but he was man spreading and had his phone in front of his face. You were more focused on not hitting his foot then tripping and spilling your popcorn everywhere. "G6...G6..."

You had been repeating your seat number quietly to yourself once you had to put your phone in your pocket to carry your drink and popcorn. You always got the same seat in the very back if you could, it was easier to remember. The last thing you wanted to do was sit in someone's spot and embarrass yourself. Little did you know, the man was grinnng as he heard you.

Once you were sitting and set your popcorn bucket carefully on your lap, you triple checked you were in the right seat on the app and breathed a sigh of relief as you get comfortable.

"You okay over there?" You heard a voice to your right.

You looked over, your cheeks turning pink. He looked familiar.....

Then it hit you that it was the same guy who had arrived during the trailers last month when you had gone to the movies to see Dune Part 2. But his friends weren't with him this time.

"Oh, yes." You smiled at the man, meeting his eyes before quickly looking down and away and back at your phone. Great, now he was going to think you are crazy. You glanced over at him to see him looking at his phone. Then you looked around the theatre. There wasn't many people here yet. He was early for once.

"A-are you excited for the movie?" Your heart was pounding as you tried to make small talk. Had he even heard you? It was a bad habit of yours to mumble when you were nervous.

He set his phone down when he heard you and looked over at you. "Ehhh not excited, but it's something to do, gets me out of the house." He smiled at you. You were struck by his smile, his teeth were so white. Suddenly you were self conscious of your smile. "You?"

It took a second for you to process that he was keeping the conversation going. "Me? Oh a little bit. I'm a Skarsgård fan, I promise I won't giggle too much. I just find him an excellent actor. I'm just doing something fun for my birthday." It had slipped out before you knew it. The last thing you wanted was sympathy. What was so bad about spending time alone? Nothing, you thought.

Your heart sank as you noticed the frown appear almost instantly on his face. "You are spending your birthday alone? Your friends aren't taking you out? That's no good. Well happy birthday." He smiled again, and you felt your cheeks get warm.

"Thank you. My birthday isn't today but it is the birthday weekend, as they say. I don't have many friends here besides my co workers." You weren't even sure if you could count co workers as friends as you were strict about keeping work separate from your personal life. "I haven't been in Cincinnati long."

His eyebrows raised slightly. "Oh really? Where did you move from?"

"Boston." Should you be telling a stranger this? Probably should have said a different city.

"Ahh beantown." he grinned and you wanted to roll your eyes.

"Yes, but locals don't call it that." But you'd like it slide, he was cute.

"Oh I'm sorry. I'm Joe by the way. He was only a few seats away from you and reached over to extend his hand out so you could shake it. You moved your popcorn off your lap to the free seat next to you so you could reach out and shake his hand back. His grip wasn't too strong which you appreciated it, but it was still strong, he was respectful.

"I'm-" The lights dimmed and that quieted you before you could introduce yourself. The first trailer started quickly and you and Joe settled into your seats to watch the screen. But a dim light to your right caught your attention as you saw Joe texting. It was a thing that often happened during movies now, which ground your gears. But Joe didn't text long thankfully and you saw him putting his phone in his pocket out of the corner of your eye.

The lights brightened in the theatre as the movie was over and Joe looked over at you. "What did you think?" He asked as he stood up. It was then you realized how tall he was. You were quite short compared to him.

"It was funnier than I expected it to be for a revenge movie." You said as you got up and gathered your things. It was late and you wanted to get home to eat the cupcake you had bought yourself as a birthday treat.

"I felt the same, not sure how well it will do at the box office though."

You couldn't help but smile, it was refreshing meeting someone who also also appeared to have a deep passion for movies.

Joe walked side by side with you out of the theatre and into the evening air. "I'm meeting my friends Tee and Ja'Marr for dinner, you can come if you like so you aren't spending your birthday alone. Just throwing it out there. I can give you the directions to the place. They came with me when I first saw you at Dune 2."

He remembered! You were floored. Should you be creeped out? No you had made eye contact at Dune and you hadn't seen him again before tonight so he couldn't be stalking you.

You released a breath you hadn't realized you had been holding. You hadn't liked the thought of being in a strangers car so suddenly, you were relived that you could take your own car and escape when you wanted to. New friends couldn't hurt in this new city either. It was time to get even more out of your shell.

"Sure, I'd like that, thank you." You smiled before you handed your phone over so he could find it on the maps app for you.

...little did you know, he was also putting his number in your phone.

[imaginespazzi]

Part 4: Warning Bells

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11

I don't think I can do this again (do you remember it too?)

(In which a self-admittedly all over the place writer takes you on a bit of a rollercoaster)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff, Angst, Pining (the usuals)

Words: 6.1K

TW: Swearing, Mentions of Divorce

A/N: Hi lovelies :) Guess who made a deadline again? I'm as shocked as y'all are but I do wanna just warn y'all that August is gonna be really busy for me so as much as I'm gonna try to stick to schedule, there's a pretty good chance I won't. I really appreciate y'alls feedback with live-reacts/long reviews and it's truly the motivating factor behind my writing so pretty please keep sending them. I did edit (as usual) but please let me know the most likely existent typos anyway. As always, let me know what you liked, disliked and what you wanna see next. Have a lovely rest of your week my loves <3

March 2033 

Here’s what Azzi has learned about motherhood: having kids means that there will come many times in your life, when you will look around you and wonder how the hell did I get here. It’s that thought that’s currently plaguing her as she finishes hanging up the WELCOME HOME banner on the living room wall in her ex-girlfriend’s new apartment. And when she’s talking about kids, she’s not talking about her five year old who’s currently sticking purple hearts on every surface she can find. No, she’s talking about her 6’5 teammate who she’d once “adopted” as a joke in college, but who’s basically become her surrogate child ever since they’d ended up on the same WNBA team. 

It had started as a casual conversation when Jana, as she often did, had shown up for an impromptu lunch. The topic of Paige was hard to avoid considering it was Stephie’s favorite subject, heightened by the fact that Paige was coming back soon and Stephie was far too excited to finally have her Miss Buecks back. Jana was more than happy to indulge the little girl in conversation about what Paige had been like at UConn. And if Azzi had lost herself in those memories for a moment, transported back in time to a world that had once been blooming with promise before wilting in a darkness she’d created herself, well, she’d done an excellent job not letting it show on her face. 

The real issue had started when Jana had casually let slip her idea of surprising Paige with a little welcome party. And as Stephie had started reciting all the different things they could do -because of course me and Mama will help you Aunty J, Azzi had glared at Jana, only to receive an innocent smile in return that told her everything she needed to know. She’d been set up. 

That’s how, instead of spending her Saturday curled up on her comfortable couch with a book in her hands, Azzi is here instead and in true fashion, she’s the only one actually getting anything done. Jana, who had just left about twenty minutes ago to pick Paige up, had invited some of the other girls on the team to come help out yet, something about more hands on deck. Those supposed helpful hands had spent the last hour blowing up and popping balloons and getting nothing else done.

“I can’t believe y’all have me decorating for the woman who cost me my first national championship,” Joyce laments, “I still have nightmares from that game.”

“You gotta let that hurt go Aunty Joy,” Stephie says impishly, mimicking what Jana would normally say whenever the infamous 2025 South Carolina vs UConn national championship got brought up. 

“Don’t sass me Miss Stephanie,” Joyce sticks out her tongue at the little girl, throwing a purple balloon at Stephie’s head, “hasn’t your Mama taught you that we don’t mock people’s pain.”

“Ignore her Steph,” Tessa says, bumping her former Gamecock teammate as she shares a devilish grin with Azzi’s daughter, “she’s just upset she only won one. Some of us have two.”

Joyce guffaws, throwing another balloon, this time aimed at Tessa, “dude we’re supposed to be on the same team. What would Coach Staley say to you teaming with UConn people of all things to bully me?”

“She’d thank me for making sure you didn’t get a big head,” Tessa snipes back. 

Whatever response Joyce has to that quip is cut short by the doorbell ringing and Azzi feels her heartbeat quicken as Stephie lets out a squeal, dropping everything to go answer it. Things had been different since the facetime call almost two weeks ago. They’d accidentally on purpose settled into a routine where Stephie would call Paige at exactly 7 p.m. and Paige would answer on the first ring, promising to stay on the phone till the little girl fell asleep. And it would’ve been fine if that’s all it was. But then Paige started staying on the phone till after Stephie fell asleep and suddenly it was like they were back to their teenage selves, talking about everything and nothing, trying to learn every page of each other’s story all over again. 

Azzi had missed so much about Paige in the last couple of years but there was nothing she’d missed more than just talking to her best friend. She’d missed the way Paige would tell a story, going off on a million tangents in between. She’d missed the way her eyes would light up when she got to a particularly exciting part of the story, specks of gold shimmering in the blue like sunlight hitting the ocean. She’d missed the way Paige’s hands would be flying animatedly all over the place, even when she was whispering. She’d missed the way the blonde would pause halfway through to observe if Azzi was still listening, making sure all of the attention was still on her. And she’d missed the way that when it was Azzi’s turn to speak, Paige would hang onto every word like it was gospel, intently listening like she’d never forgive herself if she couldn’t recite everything Azzi had just said from memory. She’d missed the way Paige would let her emotions freely flicker across her face, because whatever happened to Azzi, Paige felt it too. 

She’d missed and missed, convinced the pain would be the end of her, until she’d tricked her mind into forgetting. And now Azzi’s beginning to realize that remembering it all again, might just be the thing that kills her. 

“Nevermind,” Stephie walks back to the room, sulking slightly, “it’s just Aunty Liyah.”

“Oh thanks Stephie babe. That makes me feel so wonderful,” Aaliyah says, walking in behind Stephie with an offended expression on her face, “and here I thought bringing cupcakes would make me popular.”

“Tell me those are store-bought Chavez. I ain’t trusting them if you made them yourselves,” Joyce says, side-eyeing the cupcakes. 

“Trust me I would never waste my precious time baking for y’all ungrateful ass-”

“Aaliyah,” Azzi shoots her younger teammate a sharp look.

“-ungrateful people,” Aaliyah corrects sheepishly, “cupcakes because y’all clearly don’t appreciate me.”

“I pre-ciate you Aunty Liyah,” Stephie says innocently, trying to get a better look at the aforementioned cupcakes, “you got the pu-ple ones right? They have to be pu-ple for Miss Buecks.”

Aaliyah bends down to Stephie’s level to show her the box of sweet treats “the perfect purple cupcakes for your Miss Buecks. How come you never wanna do nice things like this for us Stephie?”

“Because Miss Buecks is special,” Stephie retorts matter-of-factly.

“Oh so we’re not special?” Tessa asks, raising an eyebrow at Stephie.

“‘Course you are but Miss Buecks is special-er.”

And while her teammates all pretend to dramatically gasp at that, shaking their heads at Stephie, Azzi feels like someone’s squeezing her heart, twisting and twisting but never fully breaking it. She wonders if that might hurt less.

It’s another 10 minutes later when the doorbell rings again and Azzi watches her daughter’s face break into an incandescent grin, filled with hope, as she rushes to open the door because it has to be Paige this time. Azzi follows after her, trying to keep her breathing under control as anticipation clings to her nerves. Azzi’s gotten so spectacularly good at lying to herself that she tells herself this next one with ease: there’s not a single part of her that’s eager to see Paige again. 

“SURPRISE,” Stephie screams, flinging the front door open with as much strength as she can muster. She doesn’t give Paige a chance to react before she’s throwing herself against the blonde’s legs, hugging her thighs. 

It takes a second for Paige to register what’s happening, but when she does, it’s Azzi she’s looking at. Everything seems to move in slow motion as they stare at each other, the reality of the moment suddenly settling in. Paige is here. In Oakland. They’re going to be teammates; they’re going to see each other almost every day. Just like they used to. Except nothing is like it used to be and as that bitter truth comes up like bile in Azzi’s throat, she has to force herself to look away. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie calls out, tugging at the hem of Paige’s white shirt to get her attention, “do you like my surprise?”

Paige tears her eyes away from Azzi, leaning down to pick Stephie up before peppering her faces with kisses and making the younger girl squeal in delight, “best surprise ever.”

And Azzi really, really, can’t watch this. Not when it makes her want to walk over and cocoon herself in with the two of them, makes her want to pretend that she’s living in another life, one where she hadn’t thrown away the chance of a happily ever after with the girl she’d fallen in love with at fourteen, 

“Oh yeah Stephie, your surprise. Take all the credit. Not like the rest of us did anything,” Joyce rolls her eyes goodnaturedly, before pulling Paige into a one-armed hug, “welcome to the Bay Area Bueckers.”

Tessa and Aaliyah are next, both sharing warm hugs with their new teammate. Once they’ve had their turn, all eyes seem to turn to Azzi expectantly and the brunette blanches under their gaze. Other than Jana, who suddenly seems pretty heavily interested in the doorframe, the rest of her teammates don’t know about her past with Paige. So it’s only natural they’d expect her to greet Paige with all the cordiality of an old friend. 

“Y’all good?” Joyce asks slowly, looking between the two of them, “do you want me to introduce y’all or?”

“Shut up,” Azzi murmurs before drawing in a deep breath and stepping towards Paige. She tries not to fixate on the way Paige’s jaw flexes when the blonde swallows, tries not to think about all the patterns she’d once carved against that little patch of skin because she knew it drove Paige insane. The thing is Azzi can’t even really remember the last time they hugged beyond a for-the-cameras one at a game. But as she wraps her arms around Paige, the older woman’s breath tickling against her ear as she grips Azzi’s waist, it doesn’t feel that much different from how it used to be. Paige’s arms are still safe and strong and Azzi still wants to melt into them. But what’s different is that Stephie’s in between them now, tiny hands securely fastened around both of their necks. And Azzi almost, almost gives into the feeling of belonging as she whispers two simple words that mean just a little too much.

“Welcome home.”

***

Seven pairs of eyes watch as the movers move box after box after box into Paige’s apartment, until there’s more cardboard than floor visible. The three non-UConn girlies are wide-eyed as they watch the pile grow endlessly. Meanwhile Jana is laughing while Azzi tries to hide a smile behind her hands as the realization that she’d have to unpack all of her stuff hits Paige in waves, and her expression grows more and more somber. Once the movers are finally done, it’s Stephie, whose hand is still firmly clasped in Paige’s, who breaks the silence. 

“You have a lot of things Miss Buecks,” the little girl crinkles her nose, as she points out the obvious, “do you really need all of this stuff.”

“Of course I do Stephie,” Paige says indignantly and Azzi scoffs, earning her a withering glare from the blond. 

“Aight well it was nice to meet you-” Joyce starts, slowly backing away from the mess until Jana blocks her way. 

“Oh no you don’t. I told y’all we were all gonna help her move in. Call it team bonding,” the Egyptian says, her voice vaguely threatening. 

“Most of the team isn’t even here,” Aaliyah points out cautiously. 

“That’s not the point,” Jana rebukes, “alright team listen up. Here’s how this is going to go-”

“Maybe Paige should take charge. It is her apartment,” Tessa says slowly. 

“If we put Paige in charge she’ll tell us all to go home and procrastinate doing anything until after the season,” Azzi says, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. 

Paige pouts, “hey! I’m not that bad.”

“Oh you absolutely are.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“O-kay,” Jana claps, breaking apart the bickering, “it’s good to see the two of you are apparently younger than Stephie,” she holds up a hands a both Paige and Azzi start to splutter in their defense, “now as I was saying before being rudely interrupted. We’re gonna split this up. Joyce and I are gonna do the living room. Aaliyah and Tessa, y’all are gonna fix the guest room. Which leaves,” Jana smiles, and it’s only because Azzi knows her so well that she can read the menacing sparkle behind it, “Paige and Azzi to tackle the master bedroom.”

They both open their mouths to protest but are quick to get cut off by an excited Stephie, “I’mma help Mama and Miss Buecks!”

“Of course you are, why would you ever help anybody else? Clearly you don’t love us anymore. Not since your precious Miss Buecks got here,” Joyce says dramatically and while Paige smirks and the rest of the girls pretend to act mock offended, Azzi uses the distraction to sidle up to Jana. 

“What the fuck are you playing at El-Alfy,” she hisses under hear breath.

Jana shrugs innocently, “the master bedroom is the hardest because Paige has so many fucking clothes so I’m letting y’all old heads do it. Some of us are below 30 ya know.”

“Cut the bullshit,” Azzi snaps. 

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about Fudd,” Jana says airily as she starts to unpack a box, leaving Azzi muttering curses under her breath. 

“Hey-”

Azzi spins around at the soft voice, only to find herself crashing against a solid body. It’s instinct, the way Paige’s hands immediately reach out to steady her and it’s instinct, the way Azzi’s hands grab at the lapels of the blond’s shirt. Goosebumps trails up her skin as Paige's breath, hot and heavy, fans across her face. They’re too close; way too close and yet the idea of stepping away feels like a sin. Azzi gulps as her thumb accidentally brushes Paige’s collarbone and the other woman shivers under her touch. She thinks she could probably get drunk off the feeling of knowing that she can still affect Paige like that. 

“You uh-” Paige swallows, fingers squeezing involuntarily against Azzi’s hip, “you don’t have to listen to Jana. I can- I can figure it out myself.”

“N-no,” Azzi stutters and she wonders if Paige feels a high from the way she still affects Azzi too, “there’s um- you have- uh- you have a lot of stuff. I can-,” she sucks in a deep breath, “I’ll help.”

“You sure?” there’s a vulnerable edge to Paige’s tone and any resolve Azzi could ever have melts immediately. 

“I want to help,” she says softly, letting a small smile slip onto her lips. 

The smile she gets in return is bright and sparkling, just like Paige herself and Azzi’s heart lurches, pleased to be the one receiving it, pleased to be the one who’d elicited it, “Good, cause I really wanted your help.”

Azzi shakes her head, trying to ignore the warning bells blazing in her head at the fact that they’re still holding each other, “why’d you pretend you didn’t?”

“I just wanted to hear you say it first,” Paige says, biting at her bottom lip. It leaves a light mark and Azzi finds herself wanting to soothe it over with her own tongue.

She thinks it might have been easier if it was just a little harder to fall back into Paige. It shouldn’t be so simple to fall back into late night conversations, so simple to fall back into easy teasing, so simple to fall back into feeling at peace in Paige’s arms. But it is. 

“Mama, Miss Buecks,” it’s Stephie who breaks their bubble but instead of jumping away from each other like they should, they step apart only enough to let the little girl into the space between them, so she can lace her hands through both of theirs, “are you ready?”

“Before you go Paige,” Tessa calls out, holding up a clear bag of corner guards and edge protectors, “what are we doing with these?”

Paige shuffles her feet nervously, “you um- you put them on the edge of like tables and stuff.”

“Bro but they’re for people who have children?” Joyce says, giving Paige a weird look, “you have a kid we don’t know about?”

Paige’s eyes flicker to Stephie for a brief second and Azzi freezes, a warm realization tickling up her spine. Butterflies erupt in her stomach, their wings fluttering to the beat of what’s mine could have been ours. 

“Of course not. I’m just super clumsy so precautions and all that,” the blond explains, shooting Jana a glare when the taller woman barely masks a giggle, “quit procrastinating by asking all these questions and get to work.”

“Has anyone ever told you the importance of first impressions? Because I’m telling you Bueckers, using your teammates as unpaid labor the first time you meet them is not it,” Aaliyah gives Paige a pointed look. 

“This wasn’t even my idea in the first place,” Paige defends. 

“True,” Tessa nods with a sickly sweet smile, “but you’re gonna pay for the pizza anyways.”

“I’m not pay-”

“PIZZA,” Stephie squeals, “Miss Buecks you’re gonna get us Pizza?”

“Yeah Miss Buecks,” Azzi smickers, crossing her arms as Paige’s stubborn retort dies on her lips, “you gonna get us pizza?”

Paige glares at her before she’s swinging Stephie up onto her lap again. And she really needs to stop doing things like that because it’s not remotely good for Azzi’s mental health to watch the way Stephie seems to fit perfectly in Paige’s arms, “of course I am Steph, what do you want?”

The two of them are lost in their own world discussing pizza toppings as Paige starts walking over to the master bedroom, until suddenly they're both turning around, looking at Azzi with identical expressions. And the brunette feels her heart tap out this could be my everything against her ribcage. 

“You coming Azzi?”

“Mama, are you coming?”

I’d go anywhere with the two of you, Azzi thinks as she nods her head, a light skip in her step as she moves to catch up with the two of them. 

“Of course I’m coming.”

***

Less than 10 minutes into trying to unpack, Azzi realizes that she’s the only one trying to unpack anything when she looks up from where she’s been folding t-shirts -trying and failing at not breathing in their familiar scent- to find Stephie decked in a colorful cardigan that goes all the way down to her toes, her feet clad in a pair of PB4’s that must be three times the size of her own shoes. A pair of Louis Vuitton sunglasses hide almost her entire face as she strikes pose after pose and Paige diligently takes pictures of her. 

“YES Stephie,” the blond indulges, “work it girl. There you go babe, hold that pose for me. You’re a natural in front of the camera.”

Stephie giggles and Azzi feels her heart constrict. Her favorite sound in the whole world has never sounded more like a signal for danger. 

“Ahem ahem,” she coughs, narrowing her eyes at the two people in front of her, “doesn’t look like y’all are unpacking to me.”

“Mama Miss Buecks has so many pretty clothes,” Stephie gushes, completely ignoring what her mother just said. 

“They’d look even prettier folded in her closet,” Azzi says pointedly. 

Stephie pouts, “you don’t think I look pretty?”

“You look really pretty in my clothes Stephie,” Paige cuts in, tapping the little girl on the nose before she turns her gaze towards Azzi, “just like your Mama used to.”

The silk material shirt slips out of Azzi’s hand as Paige’s words drizzle around her, like the rain after a drought. It takes every little bit of strength she can muster to force herself to ignore Paige’s words and pick up another shirt to fold even if she can’t stop the rouge tint that colors her face. There’s this part of her that’s been dormant for years but every little interaction with Paige threatens to awaken it and Azzi’s scared that if she lets that happen, she’ll never be able to put it to sleep again. 

“Just- just focus on unpacking,” Azzi mutters darkly. 

She spends the next hour or so, keeping her eyes downcast, her complete focus on the task at hand. Because if she looks up, if she lets herself see the way Stephie and Paige are folding clothes together while giggling about something, if she lets herself see the way Stephie climbs onto Paige’s back so the woman can give her a piggyback to the closet to deposit the folded clothes, she thinks she could fall in love with this moment, capture it behind her eyelids and let it live there forever. But this moment doesn’t belong to Azzi. Because Paige doesn’t belong to Azzi. Not anymore. 

Azzi’s taken away from her thoughts when she feels a tiny hand wrapping around her neck from behind, Stephie’s warm body pressing against her back and just like that, all the tension in her muscles seem to dissipate. 

“What’s up sweetheart,” she asks, turning her head to press her lips against her daughter’s temple. 

“Nothing Mama,” Stephie says sweetly, “just wanted to give you a hug.”

“Sure you’re not just trying to get out of helping Miss Buecks unpack?” Azzi asks slyly, pulling Stephie from behind her, so the little girl’s lying on her lap instead. She can feel Paige’s eyes focused on the two of them and even without looking, she thinks she knows what she’d find in them if she did. 

“Of course not Mama,” Stephie grins and then squeals as Azzi begins to tickle her. 

“I think you are,” Azzi sings-songs as she continues to poke at her daughter’s stomach, reveling in the way it makes the child laugh. 

“N-no Mama stop, stop,” Stephie manages to wrench herself out from Azzi’s grip, darting to hide behind Paige’s legs, “Miss Buecks save me.”

“There’s no saving you now Stephie-bear,” Azzi roars dramatically as she picks herself off the floor, smirking at her daughter as she wriggles her fingers menacingly. 

“You know what the best way to stop someone from tickling you is Stephie?” Paige says slowly, sending the little girl a conspiratorial wink.

“Don’t you dare-” 

“You tickle them back,” Paige yells and Stephie eyes widen with excitement, “did you know your Mama’s extremely ticklish?”

“Paige no,” Azzi starts moving back, hands held in surrender. 

“You started it.”

“Yeah Mama, you started it.”

“Paige. Stephie. Ple-” Azzi cuts herself off with squeal as two sets of hands start mercilessly prodding at her ribcage. She can’t get away, not when Paige has her securely wrapped from the back and Stephie’s pressed against her front, both of them laughing maniacally. They’re a mess of limbs that’s becoming harder and harder to tell apart as the three of them topple onto Paige’s bed. And Azzi thinks maybe she doesn’t want to escape it at all. She thinks she’d like to freeze them in this moment instead. Forever. 

“Pizza’s here,” someone yells from the living room and it’s Stephie who stops first, immediately jumping off the bed at the mention of food, leaving Paige and Azzi alone. On Paige’s bed. Barely an inch of distance between them as they try to catch their breath. It’s Azzi who sits up first, smoothening the wrinkles on her shirt. And just as she’s about to stand up fully, she feels a hand circling around her wrist. 

“It’s gonna be weird being alone tonight,” Paige confesses softly and Azzi feels her breath hitch.

“Didn’t you live alone in Dallas? At least after the divorce?” she tries to keep the bitterness out of her voice at the last word, a bitterness she knows she has absolutely no right to feel. 

Paige shrugs, her shoulders brushing against Azzi’s, “I did but I knew Dallas. I don’t know this place.”

“What exactly are you asking me?” Azzi asks even though she knows. 

“I’m not asking you anything. I don’t know if I have that right anymore” Paige says softly, letting go of Azzi’s wrist as she starts to walk towards the living room, turning her head back slightly once she gets to the door, “I’m just telling you I don’t wanna be alone tonight.”

***

Damn Paige Bueckers and her vulnerable eyes and her earnest tone because Azzi would, really, really like to be enjoying her slice of pizza right now. Instead everything tastes like ashes as Paige’s unsaid plea rings in her head. There are so many reasons why Azzi absolutely shouldn’t give in, why she should grab Stephie, get into her car, drive home and never look back. This involuntary dance the two of them are starting is far too familiar to what they’d done when they were teenagers and the vivid memories of the day the music stopped and they’re feet stopped moving still haunt Azzi every time she lets herself think of it for a little too long. And she shouldn’t push herself into this fire again, not when there’s Stephie to think about, but there’s a tiny little problem. She thinks she might be addicted to burning in Paige’s flames. 

So when the pizza’s done and the house is more or less in order, and her teammates are ready to leave, looking expectantly at Azzi, she finds herself leaping into lava, “um- I think Stephie and I are gonna stay for a little bit longer.”

“We are?” Stephie asks, a huge smile stretching the length of her face as she looks up at her mother. 

“Yeah. Um- Paige’s bedroom still um- still needs some work,” Azzi tries to justify her decision, ignoring the heat of the blond’s eyes that seem to be perpetually stuck staring at her. 

Joyce raises a perplexed eyebrow, “it looked done to me.”

Paige clears her throat, “there’s definitely uh- a couple more things that need to be handled.”

“It’s almost Stephie’s bedtime. I could stay and help-” Jana begins, eyeing the two of them suspiciously.

“No,” Paige says, a little louder than necessary, “I mean you’ve already done so much for me today Jana,” she manages a smirk, “let Azzi pull her weight a little bit too ya know.”

Janna narrows her eyes but doesn’t push it. It’s oddly domestic, standing side by side with Paige bidding goodbye to their teammates, Stephie in between them happily waving at the people that are leaving. The warning bells get louder and louder; Azzi continues to do nothing to stop them. 

“Mama, how long are we staying?” Stephie asks innocently. 

“We um-” Azzi chews at her lip, finally giving into the temptation to look at Paige, “we’re gonna stay with Miss Buecks tonight so she doesn’t feel alone.”

The shrill scream that escapes Stephie’s mouth could probably break glass as she turns herself around to grab at Paige’s waist, “Miss Buecks I’m gonna stay with you! We’re gonna have a sleep-over.”

Paige laughs, kneeling down so she’s face to face with the little girl, “yeah we are.”

“Are you scared to sleep alone too Miss Buecks?” Stephie asks cautiously, cupping Paige’s face with tiny hands. 

“Just a little bit,” Paige admits, leaning into Stephie’s touch. 

“Me too,” Stephie whispers shyly, “that’s why I sneak into Mama's bed and she gives me lots and lots and lots of cuddles. Mama’s cuddles are the best,” she turns to Azzi, “Mama will you give Miss Buecks cuddles tonight too?”

“I uh-” Azzi swallows, taken aback by the question, “I thought you didn’t like sharing Mama’s cuddles?”

“I don’t,” Stephie agrees, “but I’d be okay sharing them with Miss Buecks.”

***

Azzi had planned -a loose term because really she hadn’t planned on any of this- for her and Stephie to take the guest room. Paige had been ready to give up her own room on the grounds of politeness. And Stephie was insistent that she needed to sleep in between both Mama and Miss Buecks tonight because it’s a sleepover we all have to stay together. Obviously out of the three of them, only one of them was going their way and it didn’t take a genius to figure out who that would be.  That’s how they’d ended up here, dragging chairs and pillows and blankets into the middle of the living room to create a makeshift fort. 

Azzi’s putting on the finishing touches, stringing purple fairy lights Paige had produced out of nowhere, when Stephie emerges from Paige’s bedroom where she’d gone looking for something to wear in lieu of pajamas. 

“Mama look what I found,” Stephie beams, proudly pointing at the black t-shirt she’s found that covers her whole body, “it’s you and Miss Buecks when you were littler.”

It’s their SLAM cover t-shirt and Azzi feels tears prickling at her waterline as she’s met with the picture of a younger version of the two of them. Back when they’d been so hopeful and carefree, ready to take on the world as long as they could do it together. Back when they’d been 2 in a million.

“I can’t believe you still have this,” Azzi whispers, unable to stop herself from running her fingers across the version of who they used to be. She wonders what those girls would think of them now; those girls who’d laid and bed and pinky promised forever. She thinks they’d probably be appalled at the fact that Paige and Azzi had spent eight years barely speaking. She thinks maybe they’d hate her for what she’d done. She thinks maybe she hates herself a little bit for what she’s done to them. 

Paige is leaning against the wall, her voice quiet when she speaks, “I couldn’t let it go.”

And they both know she’s not talking about the shirt. 

“Can we watch a movie?” Stephie asks, diving into the fort and peering up at the two adults. 

Paige recovers first, “yeah- yeah of course Steph,” she looks at Azzi, “do you- do you want something else to sleep in?”

“I’m good,” Azzi says, trying to inconspicuously brush away a rebellious tear. The shirt she’s wearing feels itchy against her skin but she doesn’t think she could handle wearing something of Paige’s. She scooches into the fort, leaning back against one of the pillows and Stephie’s quick to curl into her and Azzi absentmindedly rubs her hands down her daughter’s back. Paige switches on the TV, letting Stephie dictate a movie choice before letting herself into the fort, laying down on Stephie’s other side. 

“Miss Buecks come cuddle,” Stephie demands from where her head is laying on Azzi’s chest. When Paige hesitates, the younger girl takes it upon herself to pull Paige’s arms over her, making the older woman lie on her side so she can drape her hands over Stephie's stomach, accidentally brushing against Azzi’s ribcage. Stephie lets out a satisfied sigh, lying back down against Azzi, crossing her arms so she can hold Paige’s hand with one and latch onto her mother with the other. 

“Perfect.”

And it is. The sound of Stephie’s chatter slowly fading away mixed with Paige’s quiet breathing is the perfect lullaby and Azzi finds herself drifting off into the best sleep she’s had in years. 

***

Sunlight peeks in through the window and Azzi groans at the interruption. Her whole body feels a little stiff, not used to sleeping on the floor like this. A quick glance at her phone tells her it’s 7 a.m. and Azzi’s just about to let herself fall back asleep when her eyes land on the two sleeping figures next to her. Stephie’s face is buried in Paige’s neck, one arm slung over her waist. Paige, mouth slightly ajar as she sleeps, has both hands fastened on the younger, holding her tightly against her chest like she’d fight the world if someone tried to steal her from her grip. They look happy, content, at peace. And Azzi can’t breathe. 

The warning bells in her head create a cacophonous commotion that she can no longer escape. It hits her like whiplash that she can’t do this. She doesn’t know what had gotten into her last night, why she’d agreed to this, to any of this. But she can’t do this. 

“Stephie,” Azzi whispers urgently, trying to pull her daughter out of Paige’s grasp, “Stephie wake up.”

“Az?” Paige asks groggily, stirring in her sleep, “what’s going on?”

“We need to go home,” Azzi says and she can’t bear to look at Paige. 

“What?” Paige is far more awake now as she glances at her phone, “it’s 7 am Azzi. What’s the rush?"

Azzi ignores her, still trying to wake Stephie up who groans, “Mama too early.”

“Steph-”

“Azzi,” Paige’s voice is firm as she wraps her hand around Azzi’s wrist, slipping Stephie off of her, “what is going on.”

Azzi grits her teeth, “nothing’s going on. We just need to go home.”

“Azzi-”

“We shouldn’t have stayed last night Paige,” Azzi bursts out and Paige freezes. 

“Come out of the fort Azzi,” the blond says, her voice eerily calm as she stands up. Azzi follows after her, heart beating rapidly against her chest as she tries to keep the tears at bay. 

“We need to go home,” the brunette repeats, struggling to breathe, “this was a mistake,” Paige flinches and Azzi feels a knife turn in her own hurt, “we can’t do this.”

“Do what Azzi?” Paige asks exasperatedly, still trying to keep her voice low for Stephie’s sake. 

“This,” Azzi all but shrieks, throwing her hands up, “it’s too much, too quick and Stephie- Stephie’s getting attached and I can’t- I can’t let that happen.”

“Why not?” Paige argues stubbornly. 

“Because these last two weeks she couldn’t fall asleep without you on the phone. Because you’re all she talks about sometimes. Because she’s gonna want you forever,” Azzi’s voice breaks, “and she can’t have you forever.”

“Az-”

“And you’re getting attached too. I see the way you look at her and it’s amazing but it’s not- it’s not sustainable Paige. For either of you. Because you’re gonna find someone soon,” the words taste sour on Azzi’s tongue, “and you’re not gonna have time for her and missing you is going to kill her and the guilt of that is going to hurt you. I’m trying to pro-”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Paige’s voice is hard now, eyes gleaming with fire, “you’re basing all of this on a hypothetical that might not even come true. You’re not protecting anybody. You’re projecting.”

Azzi reels back, “I am not projecting.”

“Yes you are,” Paige hisses, “you’re not scared of Stephie or me getting too attached. You’re scared of yourself getting too attached.”

“Mama? Miss Buecks,” Stephie’s tired eyes look warily between the two of them, “what’s going on?”

Azzi plasters a smile on her face as she picks up her little girl, trying to pretend that the truth in Paige’s words haven’t just made her feel hollow, “we’re going home Stephie.”

“I don’t wanna go home,” Stephie fights against Azzi’s grip, looking helplessly at Paige, “Miss Buecks I wanna stay. Can I please stay?”

“You have to listen to your Mama sweetheart” Paige says softly, heartbreak written over her face as she moves to press a kiss against Stephie’s knuckles, “but I’ll see you soon okay. I promise.”

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie whimpers and Azzi has never hated herself more as she rushes out of Paige’s new house, willing herself to not look back. She buckles Stephie in the back, pretending she doesn’t see the way Paige is watching them leave from the porch, like she’d do anything to stop it. And then she drives away. 

It isn’t until she’s safely in the confines over her own room, that Azzi finally lets the tears fall. And she consoles herself with the fact that it’s okay to crack her daughter's heart, to crack Paige’s heart, to crack her own heart, if that’s the only way she can stop their hearts from breaking altogether.

[jjungkookislife]

Tongue Like Candy Pt. 2 [Final]

ღ pairing: yoongi x f. reader

ღ genre: angst with a happy ending, brother's best friend au, smut [18+]

ღ summary: The last person you expect to see at your college graduation is the man who broke your heart three years ago. Despite the heartache you both went through, you can't stay away from each other. Will your brother be the obstacle in your relationship with Yoongi, or will it work out this time?

ღ wc: 15.8k

ღ warnings: pet names (princess, baby, babe), virgin!reader, age gap, sexual thoughts, corruption kink, self-deprecation, jealousy, masturbation, alcohol mention/use, food mention, mention of jimin x f. reader, hair pulling, marking (hickeys, biting, scratching), dry humping, shared shower, shirt used as a mouth gag, choking, fingering (f. receiving), oral sex (f. giving and receiving), protected sex, first time

ღ Date: March 9, 2024

ღ read part one here

~

And despite the ache in your heart that lingers and stings for the next three years, that’s exactly what happens.

It was just a one-time thing.

~

“Fucking finally!” you throw your cap in the air to the mix with everyone else’s not caring where yours landed before you push through the graduates to get a head start in leaving— ducking, and dodging professors on your quest to the door.

You had agreed to meet your family in the car, not wanting to spend an hour or more searching for them in the crowd of parents who are looking for their graduate as well. Nah, you had learned from high school.

“You should have tried out for track. I could barely keep up, princess.” You freeze, not wanting to turn around because you knew that voice anywhere and if you turned to face him, it would mean he was here for you and you’re not sure you could cope.

The last time you had seen him was well over three years ago. You had made it a point to avoid him at all costs, even turning down gatherings with your brother so you wouldn’t be bombarded by the events that had transpired on the night following your graduation party.

You couldn’t escape him, couldn’t run anywhere. With a deep breath, you turn around to face him for the first time, and it’s no shock when he takes your breath away.

“Yoongi.” his name rolls off your tongue easily, your heart hammering against your ribcage.

“Wow!” he exclaims, cheeks turning pink right after. “You’re even more beautiful than I remember.”

You wish you could respond, say thank you, say anything. You’re unable to, taken aback by his beauty. This man only gets more and more scrumptious with age, huh? The last time you’d seen him, his hair had been orange—a menace to society. Now, his hair was back to black and deliciously long; you couldn’t help but think he was hot as fuck with his natural hair color.

“Thank you,” you murmur, feeling overwhelmed. You look past him, seeing the doors open to let the parents out, and you know you’ll have a buffer in just a few minutes. 

“I hope it’s okay that I’m here. Your brother invited me, and I know we haven’t talked since…” Yoongi trails off, licking his lips. He runs his hand through his hair and you notice that he’s gotten much buffer since the last time you saw him, his suit jacket straining on his biceps. You remember what he’d felt like on top of you, cock rubbing against your wet cunt.

“Since you fucked my mouth,” you finish, instantly regretting it when his eyes widen and his jaw drops.

“Geez, princess. I wasn’t gonna be that crude about it,” Yoongi laughs, shaking his head. Good to know you hadn’t changed a bit since he stuffed his cock in your mouth, as you so politely reminded him.

“Yikes!” you grimace, smiling sheepishly after.

Yoongi laughs, throwing his head back. “You haven’t changed a bit, huh?”

“Not really,” you shrug. “Other than cutting my hair.”

“It’s cute,” Yoongi is quick to say.

“Thanks. And thanks for coming. You didn’t have to.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, princess. I’ve missed you,” he admits easily with a shrug, and your heart thumps extra heavily.

You’re unsure what demon possesses you, because you step forward, forgetting about all your conflicting feelings as you wrap your arms around his neck, lips pressed to his. It takes Yoongi by surprise, but his arms easily find their way around your waist, kissing you back just as eagerly.

Just like that, the chemistry between you sparks once again. Yoongi holds you tight in his embrace, lips moving in sync with yours as your fingers toy with his hair, just as soft as you remember. You want to drown in his essence, kiss him within an inch of his life as your body arouses feelings you haven’t experienced since that fateful day.

“I-” you start as you unwrap yourself from Yoongi, taking a step back to put some much-needed distance between you. 

“Hey, brat! Congrats!” Your brother cheers as he approaches you. He tugs you into a hug and you wonder if he witnessed your exchange with his best friend. 

“Hey! Thanks, I’m so happy to be done with school. I busted my ass to graduate a year early.” you smile as your parents join you. 

The five of you take pictures, soon joined by Jimin and Taehyung, who bring along their families. And like your high school graduation, there’s a party at your house tonight with all your friends and family invited. That includes Yoongi. 

Over the past three years, you’ve managed to avoid him completely, which was easy, considering your brother wasn’t in town too often. Plus, being a college student meant you spent a lot of your time on campus, so even if your brother was in for a (short) visit, you could use school as an excuse. 

Should you have talked to Yoongi? Sure. You probably could have found any of his socials if you tried, but it’s not like he was reaching out either. Your brother was more important than some romp in your room, of that you were sure. So why did it sting to know Yoongi wasn’t calling?

To make matters worse, the moment you step into your home, you’re left alone in the hallway with Yoongi. His gaze follows yours, staring at your bedroom door, his cheeks flushing as he looks away, only to lock eyes with you. 

So many thoughts run through Yoongi’s head, so many unspoken words he wishes he could have said, and yet, there’s nothing but silence. 

It’s in this silence that his thoughts stray, memories of that night seeping into the forefront of his mind.

The beating of his heart reverberates against his chest like a rhythmic drum, and the warmth that spreads through his veins is nearly too much, but the feel of your mouth on him easily combats that, yearning for more heat.

Your kisses are still a little awkward, but you mimic his movements easily, even brushing your tongue against his and taking a nip of his bottom lip. He notes the way you moan against him when he groans deep in his chest, arousal wetting your thighs. 

When you take his cock in your mouth, he says your name in a way that would embarrass him if he were with anyone else. He doesn’t think of himself as a Casanova, but every girl is a new experience, and when it’s with someone you have feelings for—whatever they may be—it’s out of this world. He doesn’t want his heart to get in the way of whatever this is because you’re batting your lashes and pouting when he doesn’t react right away to the languid movement of your hand on his length.

A pouty frown sits on your pretty lips, tongue peeking to lick at them as you wait for him to give you his undivided attention once again. You’re so pretty on your knees, drooling over his cock, the excitement of doing more evident on your face. 

By no means was this the best blowjob he's ever gotten, but what you lacked in skill you made up in enthusiasm. Besides, how could Yoongi ever compare you to anyone else when you were the only one who had his heart beating as rapidly as it was, new feelings arousing in him that he’d never felt before? You were incomparable.

“Make yourself at home,” your brother shouts from the top of the stairs, and you use that chance to run off to your bedroom, avoiding being in Yoongi’s presence for the time being. You know you won’t be able to avoid him for too long, but you just need a moment to catch your breath. 

Yoongi watches you run off, wincing when the bedroom door slams shut and he’s left alone. Sure, he’s been in your home since that night, but never with you still in it. There had always been some excuse when Yoongi came around, some paper, some midterm, some way to avoid him.

You were always in his thoughts, from the moment he woke until the moment he went to bed, sometimes with his hand wrapped around his hard cock, reminiscing about your lips. 

Day and night he tried to get his thoughts together, to piece every bit of himself into a picture, map out all his feelings, and decipher them before he made an even bigger mistake. 

Yoongi typed up what he wanted to say to you in his notes app, locked for his eyes only, but courage always failed him. Time and time again, he’d copy the words, all ingrained in his mind as he hovered over your Instagram, wishing he wasn’t such a sucker and could just send the damn message. Back and forth he went each day, thoughts growing darker and darker. 

You’re bothering her.

She doesn’t like you.

Leave her alone.

Despite those thoughts, Yoongi finds himself in front of your bedroom door, his fist raised to knock when the door opens, startling you and him.

“I-” he starts, looking at you as he licks his lips. Your gaze catches his lips, your hand reaching out for his shirt, tugging him into your bedroom before shutting the door after him.

“Yoongi,” you breathe his name, lips on his instantly as you push him onto your bed. Yoongi grips your waist, kissing you back as you settle over his lap.

This is wrong.

There’s so much left unsaid.

You need to leave.

His thoughts overwhelm him and he’s pulling away slowly, regretfully. He doesn’t miss the disappointed look that flashes across your face before you put your defenses back up. 

Yoongi watches you as you get off his lap and move across the room. You’re pacing back and forth, and he eyes you warily. Of course, he’d love to smother you in kisses and hold you in his arms. Take you to bed until his name is all you can say, but he can’t. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, and his eyes widen as he meets your gaze. “I shouldn’t have kissed you at graduation or now.”

“Princess,” he starts, but you cut him off. 

“I’m sure you have better things to do than be here with me. I won’t let this happen again. I'm sorry.”

“Princess, just let me talk to you. There’s nothing to apologize for unless you’re dating someone?” Yoongi’s words feel like a knife is in his throat as he says them, and he bites his lip as he awaits your answer. 

“No.” you shake your head. As if there could ever be anyone else when you’ve spent the last three years dreaming of seeing him again, of kissing him. 

Okay, there was that brief make-out session with Jimin that one time, but that was just for fun. Yoongi doesn’t have to know about that. 

“No?” Yoongi repeats, almost hopeful. He swallows thickly, running a hand through his hair, and he doesn’t miss the way your eyes follow the movement. He clenched his hands, veins prominent, and smirks when you nearly salivate over it. 

“Has there been anyone since?” It’s none of his business. He knows it’s none of his business, but fuck, he wants to know. He needs to know if anyone else has touched you like he did—if they’ve fallen for you as he had, and if they still think of you. 

“Yes,” you answer, and his world shakes. That’s not the answer he was expecting, but he knows it was bound to happen after all. 

“Oh,” his dejected sigh fills the space between you. 

“It didn’t mean anything. It’s stupid, so stupid,” you laugh as you grip your hair in your hands and squeeze. “But I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since and I thought kissing someone else would fix it but it didn’t. Nothing ever did, and it hurts, Yoongi. It hurts to know we couldn’t have been anything, and it hurts to know I was so easy to forget.” 

Yoongi stands. “Easy to forget?” 

You nod. 

“Easy to forget?” He repeats with a scoff. “If you’re so easy to forget, why have I been thinking about you every day since then? Why have I been hoping you’d call or message me, so I could see you again? You dodged every opportunity you could to see me and I thought that’s what you wanted, so I backed off. After all, I wasn’t trying to force my way into your life. But you are in no way easy to forget and if that’s what you think, then I haven’t done a good job of proving just how unforgettable you are, princess.”

You’re utterly stunned by his words. You blink, moving on autopilot as you grip him by the shirt, only hesitating for a split second before his hands grip your face. The heated stare he rewards you with leaves you breathless. The last time you’d seen him looking this intent, this serious, was that night in your bedroom and as those thoughts come to mind, you slam your lips on his.

Your lips are on his instantly, moving perfectly with his in a more practiced way than before. Yoongi bites back the jealousy he feels because you weren’t his and whoever taught you this was a figureless head in his mind. However, that does little to quell the jealousy that bubbles deep in his abdomen as his fingers grip your hair to hold you in place.

Yoongi allows you to lead after a beat, curious to see what else you’ve learned in his absence. His hands grab your hips, holding you to him as your tongue prods his lips apart when he makes no move to do so.

For a few moments, you allow yourself to forget all the pain and sorrow you went through. Kissing Yoongi feels just like the first time, but so much better. This time you’re not fumbling around, wondering if you’re doing it correctly or if it’s a massive failure. This time you kiss him with confidence, your fingers threading through his hair as you pull him close, teeth gently nipping on his bottom lip just to hear him groan, ending the kiss so he can press his forehead to yours. His gaze burns deep into your soul, and you wonder how you could have lived without this man for so long. Feelings you swear you buried away begin to rise to the surface, and as you keep your gaze locked on his, you realize just how fucked you are, because this time—this time—you know you won’t recover from the heartbreak again.

“Yoongi?!” You both step away from each other at the sound of your brother’s voice. Your heart is thundering in your chest and Yoongi echoes it. He runs a hand through his hair, looking in the mirror in your bedroom before he slowly opens your bedroom door. 

Your brother is at the top of the stairs, calling out to Yoongi again. 

“Coming!” Yoongi looks at you one last time, a frown on his lips. Would it always be like this?

“Go,” you mouth, and he nods. He hesitates, but Yoongi gets called again. 

He curses, “I’ll talk to you tonight, princess. Please wait up.”

You nod before urging him to go. Your brother’s footsteps are growing louder as he rounds the landing. 

“Dude, what took you so long?” Your brother asks, annoyed, as he finally looks up from his phone. “I need help getting the drinks in the cooler. Let’s go!”

“Sorry, I had to go to the bathroom.” Yoongi shrugs but follows your brother out of the house and to the car. 

You watch them go, shutting your bedroom door and leaning against it. Your lips still tingle from his kiss, and you hate yourself for feeling this way again. You had never really moved on from Yoongi or from that night. You had tried fooling yourself into believing you had, but seeing him again, kissing him, brought back all those feelings tenfold and you knew you were screwed. 

Fuck Min Yoongi.

“Babe! Why are you hiding in here?” Taehyung asks as he steps into your bedroom hours later. You’d hidden for most of the night, which was unusual, seeing as it was a party to celebrate you.

“You know this party is for you, right?” Jimin asks as he follows Tae and shuts the door after himself. 

“It’s for you guys too,” you answer weakly as you lay back on your bed. You miss the look of concern exchanged between both your friends as they climb onto the bed. Jimin on your left and Taehyung on your right. 

“Okay, spill it,” Jimin demands as he turns to his side, resting his elbow on the bed and his head in his palm

“Yeah, and don’t even think about lying,” Taehyung states firmly, knowing his bull shit meter will catch it. 

“Yoongi kissed me,” you admit softly. 

Jimin raises a brow. “At your last graduation? We know that.”

“Is the party bringing back memories?” Taehyung asks curiously. 

“No. I mean, he kissed me. Today,” you emphasize. 

“Wait.” Jimin hops off your bed. “That bastard’s here?” 

Taehyung gets off the bed as well, heading to your bedroom door before you scramble to stop them. 

“Stop! Don’t go out there.” 

“He kisses you and then leaves you again? I’m rocking his shit up! He can’t do that to you again! We won’t allow it!” Jimin is fuming. Taehyung nods in agreement. You had been broken up about that night and not seeing Yoongi after. You wallowed in your sadness, wondering if you hadn’t been good enough or if he hated you. Your best plan of action was to avoid him at all costs, which you did successfully until today. 

Jimin and Taehyung had been around to pick up the pieces and glue them back together. They hated how this situation had affected you. They knew you couldn’t separate your actions from your feelings and, try as you might, your denials just proved empty. Because you did have feelings for Min Yoongi. You always had and your little diary proved it and it was cemented further that night. It may not have meant much to Yoongi, having been more experienced, but it meant something to you. 

Yoongi was the first and only one you had gone that far with. Sure, you had made out with Jimin once, but it didn’t compare to Yoongi. Don’t tell Jimin, though. 

“He wants to talk later,” you whisper. 

Taehyung clicks his tongue. “So he can leave for another 3 years? I don’t think so.”

“He’s right, babe. We can’t keep you from doing what you want. And we’ll support your decisions, but just tread lightly, okay? Don’t fall for his charms so easily,” Jimin warns before he’s wrapping you up in a hug. 

“You’re our baby.”

“I love you guys. Now go out and have fun. I’m gonna freshen up and meet you out there, okay?” You force a smile and they nod, kissing your cheek before stepping out of your bedroom. 

Jimin and Tae remain at your side for a while until you’re caught in a conversation with relatives, and you forget about Yoongi even being in attendance. You decide to enjoy yourself and worry about him tomorrow.

Or so you thought.

With an empty cup, you head to the kitchen for a refill. You’re quite surprised to see it’s vacant as you go to the counter to make a drink.

“Have you been avoiding me?” you curse when you hear his voice. Hands shaking with nerves, you slowly turn around to face Yoongi. 

He’s leaning against the entryway, a smug smile on his lips, but you know better. He’s putting on a cool facade for you, but his eyes betray him. Yoongi looks over his shoulder, making sure the coast is clear before stepping further into the kitchen.

“Nope.” you shrug, turning your attention to your drink. “Just busy.”

“Hmm.”

“Did you need something?” you ask, bringing your drink to your lips. Yoongi watches you intently before he takes the cup from your hands and sets it back on the counter. 

“I need you,” he whispers before his lips are on yours. Immediately, your hands grip his shirt to pull him closer, a whimper escaping you when he’s got you pressed to the counter and his hands grip your waist.

“Yoongi,” his name slips from your lips, forgetting for a moment that things were rocky between you. Why couldn’t you just forget and let live?

“Kiss me,” he pleads in a low, needy tone that makes your head spin.

So you kiss him.

Again, and again, and once more for good measure.

Yoongi moans your name softly, making your body burn with desire as your fingers tug on his hair. He curses, his cock twitching in his pants as his hands squeeze your waist. What he wouldn’t do to kiss you from head to toe, spend every moment from now until morning devouring you while you call out his name.

“Fuck,” he curses, licking his lips as you pant, trying to catch your breath. Yoongi grins, thankful he’s had the same effect on you as you did on him. 

There’s so much he’d like to say, so much he wishes he could tell you, but like always, he’ll have to wait as footsteps fill the hall. 

Yoongi steps away, busying himself by getting a drink while you open the fridge to hide your face. It would easily give you away.

“There you are! I swear you’re hiding from me tonight,” your brother jokes as he leans against the fridge, completely ignoring Yoongi as he chugs his drink.

“Just needed a drink. You know how Aunt May gets at parties,” you lie but your brother laughs. 

“Did she tell you the vacation story again?” he asks with a shake of his head.

“Yes, but she gave me a check, so I listened for once,” you giggle, showing him the check your aunt wrote for you. 

“Nice,” your brother hugs you. “I think everyone’s wrapping up, if you wanna go say bye.”

“I should do that,” you agreed quickly, going around your brother to leave.

“We’ll have lunch tomorrow! I’m staying the night until my apartment is ready!” he calls. You throw a thumbs up over your head to acknowledge him before scurrying away from Yoongi’s heated gaze.

It’s almost an hour later before you’re back in your bedroom. You’ve taken a shower, put your pajama shorts on, and another oversized shirt you’ve stolen from the pile of Yoongi’s in your brother’s closet. You’ve managed to grow your collection while your brother’s been gone, and now nearly every shirt of Yoongi’s sits hidden in the last drawer of your dresser, just beneath your other pajamas.

When you get in bed, you’re not too surprised when there’s a light knock on your door. Nerves bubble up inside you as you get out of bed as quietly as possible. 

You know your parents have gone with your Aunt May for the night. She always has too many glasses of wine and your parents like to make sure she’s okay, often staying the night and having brunch in the morning. The only one home and upstairs in bed is your brother, his loud snores fill the home.

Slowly, you turn the doorknob, opening the door to see Yoongi.

“Hey,” he greets you in a whisper. You grip him by the shirt, tugging him into your bedroom. He stumbles over his feet before you shut the door to press him against it.

Yoongi grunts when his back meets the wood, cock twitching immediately as your lips press against his. Yoongi is caught off guard but his hands cup your face and before you know it, it’s you that’s pressed against the door.

“Yoongi,” you moan his name just like he remembers, cock throbbing in the confines of his jeans. He kisses you deeper, drinking you in as his tongue brushes yours. 

“Fuck, princess,” he groans as he kisses his way to your neck, teeth nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. His mark is left behind, soothed by his fiery tongue as he moves downward, hands gripping the shirt you’ve stolen from him. At this point, it’s all he ever wants to see you in.

With ease, Yoongi kisses you as he leads you to your bed. He drops when the back of his knees hits the mattress, taking you with him. You squeal in surprise, giggling when he kisses you to muffle your sounds.

“We need to be quiet,” he reminds you. You nod, licking your lips as you move to straddle him, lacing your fingers with his as you press his hands over his head, grinding down on him. Yoongi moans your name, eyes fluttering shut as he enjoys your hips moving together.

Fuck, he was supposed to be talking to you, not grinding on you.

“Baby,” he breathes, throwing his head back when you grind on him harder, biting back moans as you release his hands to grip your tits. Fuck, why was he stopping this?

“We need to talk,” he reminds you as you kiss his neck, teeth sinking into his skin and your tongue laving over it to soothe the sting. Fuck, his head is spinning. This is everything he’s been dreaming of and more.

“So talk,” you say as you grip his shirt, tugging it over his head. Yoongi is malleable beneath you, at your mercy as you have your way with him. He’s so lost in you, intoxicated by your scent, your lips, your hips.

Yoongi enjoys himself for a moment longer before he kisses your lips and gently pushes you off his lap. He cards a hand through his hair, a small smile on his lips. “Talk, princess.”

You bite your lip. “I’d rather kiss.”

Yoongi chuckles. “So would I.”

You grin, reaching for him again, and Yoongi allows you to steal one kiss before he scoots away.

“We need to talk, baby. I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings between us. Not again. It hurt too much to be away from you for so long, and now that I have you in front of me, I realize just how much I missed you. How much I wish I had chased after you or at the very least, said something.” Yoongi clears his throat, he notes the way you’ve stiffened.

“I wanted to talk to you, Yoongi. Every time I tried, I thought of my brother. I thought of you not reaching out. I thought it was better this way,” you shrug, hiding your face in your hands.

“Princess,” Yoongi pulls you to his side. “I didn’t know you wanted me to. You avoided me after, and I was scared I had overstepped. I haven’t gone a day without thinking of you, of wishing I could have you in my arms just like this.”

You melt, kissing his cheek. “So, where do we go from here?”

“I want to be with you, princess. I want to take you out. I want to spoil the fuck out of you. I want you to be mine,” Yoongi admits as he caresses your face. You feel like you’re falling for him all over again, your heart thumping wildly in your chest as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“I’d love nothing more,” you smile widely, kissing his face again and again until he’s chuckling. His hands grip your waist, allowing you to kiss him as much as you want. You eventually kiss his lips, drowning in him until your back meets your bed, and he’s hovering over you.

“Yoongi,” his name rolls off your tongue in a heady tone that drives him insane, his hips grinding down on yours as you spread your legs for him, welcoming him in between. He hisses, cursing as his hair falls over his eyes and he huffs a breath as you brush it away, tugging at the roots to make him moan.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he teases with a smirk.

“Who says I won’t finish it?” you goad him and he licks his lips. 

“Fuck, you have no idea what you do to me, baby. I want you so bad.” he kisses you again, sucking on your bottom lip as your hands move down to his body, nails digging into his shoulders. 

His name escapes you as his lips suck on the sensitive skin of your throat. Your fingers tug at his hair, making him groan against you. You want him desperately, hoping you’ll get all of him tonight, but you both freeze when your brother's snoring stops and his footsteps echo upstairs. 

“Fuck, fuck,” Yoongi pulls away, a hand carding through his mused hair. He looks at you with wide eyes as he bites his lip. 

This is not how you wanted your brother to find out. 

You both stay still, not making a sound until you hear the footsteps again and minutes later when the toilet flushes. Moments later, the snores resume. 

“Fuck,” Yoongi chuckles nervously. His hands tremble as he looks at you. He bites his lip nervously, his hands going into his pockets. “I should go to the couch.”

You don’t say a word as he grabs his shirt and tugs it back on. You watch him awkwardly from your bed, biting your lip. Yoongi walks over to you, gently pressing a kiss to your lips. 

“Goodnight, princess.”

Morning comes sooner than you’d like. Your brother’s loud music and off-key singing greet you the moment your eyes open. At least someone’s in a good mood, you think.

Groaning, you huff as you rub your eyes. You’re tired, having slept very little, thinking about every word exchanged with Yoongi. After deciding not to overthink, your mind filled with every kiss, every touch you exchanged and that led to your hand between your legs, softly moaning his name. You hated that he was just on the other side of your bedroom door, unable (and unwilling?) to do anything about it with your brother upstairs. But what did you expect? He’d run out of here the last time the two of you had been together, just like this. You couldn’t keep getting your hopes up. Three years ago you decided your brother was more important, so you’d write last night off as a one-time thing, again.

“Wake up!” Your brother shouts as he knocks on your bedroom door. You curse at him, groaning as you get out of bed. You hit your palm on the door in answer, enough for your brother to leave you alone while you go to the bathroom to brush your teeth. You look at your reflection, cringing when you see a small hickey on your neck. Damn Yoongi.

You head to your closet to change your shirt before opening your bedroom door and heading to the kitchen. 

Yoongi is at the stove with your brother, a spatula in his hand a second before he’s swatting your brother. “Don’t touch it!”

“It’s going to be burned!” your brother protests, but Yoongi swats his hand again and the two argue back and forth, only turning when you open the fridge door to grab the juice.

“Good morning,” Your brother grins. You grunt as Yoongi chuckles.

“Still not a morning person?” Yoongi laughs and you flip him off.

“Anyway,” your brother rolls his eyes. “I’m getting my apartment keys tomorrow so I can start moving in.”

“Congrats!” You exclaim as you take a seat on a stool. 

“Everything I own is in storage and Steph ordered a couch on Tuesday. Our bed will be there tomorrow afternoon, so I just need to move in with my stuff.” Your brother explains. 

“When do I get a tour?” You ask as you try your best to avoid looking at Yoongi. Your brother shrugs.

“You wouldn’t need a tour if you’d gone to Yoongi’s place that one time I invited you,” your brother laughs, turning to smack Yoongi on the shoulder.

“Yoongi’s place?” You choke out. 

“Yeah?” Your brother quirks his head. “Did I not mention it was in his building?”

“No,” you swallow thickly, reaching for your glass of juice to gulp it down. By the stove, Yoongi is gripping the spatula harder than necessary, the egg for gyeran bap sizzling on the pan. Perhaps he should have said something?

“Yoongi got me in with the landlord,” your brother grins. “I can’t wait to move in with Steph. It’s nice to be home after traveling so much. It’s exhausting.”

“When are you proposing?” You smile mischievously as your brother whips his head. He rubs the back of his neck and Yoongi smirks behind him. Your brother had met Steph on one of his trips home, they’d been together for almost three years now.

Your brother pats his pocket and out comes a small black velvet box. 

“Shut up!” You shout as you set your glass down on the counter with a thud. Yoongi chuckles as he turns the stove off and begins plating the food. 

“I had Yoongi help me pick it out,” your brother admits as he opens the box, and a gorgeous ring sits nestled in the middle. 

“Oh, she’s gonna flip!” You squeal as you jump up and down. Your brother laughs, shutting the box in case your excitement knocks the ring out of his hands. 

“I’m gonna wait until we’re settled in our apartment before proposing,” your brother explains as he thanks Yoongi with a nod when he places the food in front of the two of you. “So don’t go opening that big mouth of yours, brat!”

Offended, you place your hand on your chest. “Me?!”

“You’re easy to read,” Yoongi says with a shrug as he takes a bite of his food. “Plus, you’re not as quiet as you think.”

You stare at him, mouth agape as he meets your gaze, fiery and knowing. Perhaps he had heard you last night…

“See, he knows what I’m talking about,” your brother is oblivious as he eats his food. “I wanna tell Mom and Dad first and of course plan it out perfectly and that’s going to take a while.”

“We’ll help with whatever you need!” You exclaim and Yoongi laughs. 

“I’m being volunteered to help?”

“Yes!” You huff with a roll of your eyes. “Why wouldn’t you? You got plans?”

“Nope,” Yoongi chuckles before turning to your brother. “You know I’ll help with whatever you need. Just say the word.”

“Thanks, man,” your brother smiles brightly. “And of course, I’ll help with whatever you need when it’s your turn.”

You freeze, looking away from Yoongi to stare down at your plate. A short silence follows and Yoongi scrounges up a passing smile. 

“Uh, thanks.”

Your brother nods, groaning when his phone rings on the counter. He answers it immediately and is soon rushing off when he’s informed his apartment key is ready today if he wants it early, but he’s got an hour to pick it up before the landlord leaves for the day. 

“I’ll be back, maybe. Steph and I want to get some of her stuff in there today from her parents’ house so I might be back later. Mom and Dad are still with Aunt May so I’ll text you!” 

Your brother waves and before you can blink, you hear his car peeling out of the driveway, music blasting loud enough to rattle the windows. You’re sure your neighbors will be glad when he’s gone. 

Silence fills your home after your brother’s gone. You wash the dishes and head to your room to change, finding Yoongi has done the same. 

Eyeing you hungrily, Yoongi takes in every bit of skin showing where your dress ends just above your knees. He smiles when he sees how flustered you’ve become, turning your head just to avoid his gaze but display the small mark he left last night. 

Biting his lip, he keeps himself from saying something explicit, offering you a compliment before asking about your plans. 

“I was going to head outside to clean up any mess left behind,” you shrug and Yoongi follows you toward your backyard. 

Most of it is clean but a few cups and plastic cutlery litter the ground. You’re thankful nothing nasty has fallen into the pool and you debate inviting Tae and Jimin over for a swim. 

“The party was fun last night,” Yoongi comments as he picks up a trash bag left sitting on a table. 

“Yeah, Jimin almost convinced my mom to do body shots off him,” you roll your eyes in annoyance, glad you were able to swoop in and escort your mother away. 

Yoongi’s laughter fills the air, his eyes closed as his head is thrown back. His hand rests on his stomach as it begins to ache. 

“I would have paid money to see that,” he says once he’s controlled his laughter but it still lingers in his words. 

“Yoon!” You whine, shoving him playfully. “That’s my mother.”

“She knows how to have a good time,” Yoongi smiles smugly and you huff. 

“Gonna get her to do body shots off of you at the next party then,” you grumble. 

Yoongi grins wolfishly and you shove him again. He cackles when you try a third time and miss his chest; his hand wraps around your wrist before he raises it to his lips to kiss your skin. 

“I’m kidding,” Yoongi says with a gummy smile that makes your heart flip in your chest. You could melt just looking at him. 

The late spring heat begins to get to you as you ignore him and finish cleaning up. He’s got a shit-eating grin the whole time, satisfied with himself for annoying you. It reminds him of the times you’d hang around him, always with a quip at the ready to shut him or your brother down. It’s good to know he can still get under your skin and take what he gives out just like he does with you. 

“Here,” you growl as you shove a cold water bottle into his hands once you’re done cleaning up the backyard. He thanks you, taking the lid off and squeezing it harder than necessary to splash you and himself in the process. 

“Min Yoongi!” You scream his name as you step back and start pulling at your sundress, thankful you’ve put on a bathing suit underneath it. 

“Whoops, sorry,” Yoongi shrugs as he sips his water and you snatch it from him to spray him with it. His shirt clings to his body and you stare with lustful eyes as Yoongi simply takes it off. 

“See something you like?” He asks cheekily as he steps closer to you but you’re left speechless and frozen in your spot. Your body is warm, from the heat or Yoongi—you’re unsure— as you do the first thing that comes to mind. 

A splash is heard as you jump into the pool. Yoongi is left flabbergasted in his spot before he joins you with a cannonball right beside you. 

“You’re insufferable,” You hiss as you wipe the water off your face. Yoongi swims closer to you until he’s but a hair's breadth away. 

“And yet you still like me, princess.”

Laughter is the first thing your brother hears as he opens the front door. He’s in a hurry, having realized halfway to the landlord’s office that he’s forgotten his wallet. 

Normally, he wouldn’t worry about it but he was told to bring his ID to pick up his keys. So he turned around and rushed home taking a few yellow lights that may have been turning red by the time he crossed the intersection.

He knows exactly where to find his wallet (on the coffee table), having tossed it there before helping Yoongi cook, assuring himself he wouldn’t forget it if he had to go out, but alas here he is. 

The back door of his home is slightly ajar and he’s about to scold you when he hears you and Yoongi’s distinct laughter. He grabs his wallet off the coffee table and heads to the back door where he pauses. 

You and Yoongi are laughing, splashing each other with water, and climbing out of the pool just to cannonball back in. Your brother smiles, shaking his head as he notes how the two of you steal glances at each other. 

He may be overprotective but he wasn’t an idiot. He could see the way you looked at his best friend and it wasn’t until the past year that he noted the way Yoongi would look at you. Well, not you but pictures of you that your brother would show him whenever he was back in town. 

“She’s going on vacation with Jimin and Tae,” he remembers telling Yoongi the last time as he sat on Yoongi’s old gray couch. “They’re going to some beach resort.”

Yoongi had nearly ripped the phone out of his hand to see the pictures. Your smile is bright and wide in every photo. It all made sense then, the brightness in Yoongi’s eyes but sadness still lingered in the dark depths. Perhaps it wasn’t his place to stand between you if it meant the two of you could be happy. 

But nothing ever changed. 

You still avoided Yoongi at every chance and as hard as your brother tried to get the ball rolling, it didn’t. You were busy. Always so busy, too busy for him and too busy for Yoongi. 

Now stumbling into the both of you alone, he wonders if something was there, if it always was and he was just unaware.  

He feels like he’s intruding now. He’s gotten what he came for and he shuts the door when you squeal Yoongi’s name once again after he’s splashed you. He smiles to himself as he takes his leave. 

“You’re so annoying!” You yell when the water hits your face once again. This time you were swimming laps and Yoongi was ahead of you, kicking his feet harder than necessary just to splash more water in your face and causing you to lose. 

Yoongi smirks when he reaches the end of the pool, waiting for you to arrive before he climbs out. 

“Thought you were the captain of the swim team,” Yoongi shrugs, a teasing smile on his lips as you finally reach him. 

You pull yourself out of the pool to sit beside him, glaring. 

“I was the towel girl! And only because Jimin was on the team,” you grumble, shoving him to the side when his smile grows wider. 

“Come on, Little Mermaid, let’s get you inside,” Yoongi rises to his feet, offering you his hand that you swat away. He rolls his eyes, picking up his shirt from the ground and your dress as you get up and join him. 

Yoongi leads you inside the house, puddles forming on the floor where you walk. 

“We’re making a mess,” you groan.

“We’ll clean it up,” he assures you. 

“Come on, it’ll be easier if we contain it to one floor,” you take Yoongi’s hand and he stumbles after you as you lead him to your bedroom, locking the door and leading him to your bathroom. 

Yoongi’s heart is racing. He bites his lip as he watches you turn the shower on. When you start to take off your swimsuit, he turns his back to you. 

“I can wait my turn in the room. I’ll just need a towel to dry off with,” he says nervously. 

“Get in, Yoongi,” you demand as you step into the shower, hot water enveloping your body and making you groan. 

Yoongi hesitates for a moment before you speak again. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen already.”

Yoongi’s face flushes with heat. He slowly takes his board shorts off and steps in with you. Your eyes are closed as you stay under the water and a shiver runs down his spine. 

Slowly, your eyes open and your hands reach for him. You smile softly when water soaks him, his hair sticking to his forehead as he smiles at you. 

You’re still unsure of where you stand, still cycling through your feelings, and knowing this path could lead you to happiness but also despair once again. You’re not sure you could overcome this heartbreak again but with Yoongi standing in front of you in silence, lost in those same thoughts, you kiss him to silence them. 

There’s no rush in your kiss, no urgency, nothing but soft lips and whimpered moans. Yoongi cups your face gently, delicately, almost afraid you’ll break if he lets go. Your hands rest on his shoulders, warm and wet underneath your palms as your lips part for him. A muffled moan leaves you, a groan soon after when your back meets the iciness of the wall behind you. 

Yoongi’s palm hits the wall with a soft slap. His fingers grip your chin to tilt your head upward, exposing more of your neck as his lips trail wet kisses downward.

“I’ve missed you,” Yoongi admits quietly against your skin. You’re positive his words weren’t meant for you to hear but you hold him tighter.

“I wanted to reach out,” you say with a shaky breath. “But he was so glad there was nothing between us. Every time I tried, I thought of him and closed myself off. I figured it would be easier to forget you but it never was.”

“Baby,” Yoongi’s tone is soft, his gaze blurry as tears fill your eyes and his. 

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle, shaking your head as he hugs you. You don’t want to let him go, not again. Your brother will have to understand, he’ll just have to, and if not…

“Don’t think about it right now, okay? We can talk to him together or I can do it alone. There’s no rush, princess. He’s not going anywhere,” Yoongi kisses the top of your head. 

Gently, he wipes your tears before he’s washing your hair. His fingers massage your scalp, humming as he goes. He helps you wash your body, no touch leading to more and you shyly return the favor in between kisses and serene smiles. 

Though you still feel apprehensive about moving forward, you trust that this time will be different. Maybe you’ve become an optimist or maybe you just want to fool yourself into thinking so. Whatever it may be, you hope you’re not left standing on your own in the end. 

After your shower, you dry off in your bedroom. You’ve put one of Yoongi’s shirts on and he’s borrowed a pair of shorts you’d stolen from him. 

“I want those back,” you tell him as you get in bed with him beside you. 

“Aren’t you just a little thief,” he scoffs as he wraps around you to pull you close. Your head rests on his bare chest, your index finger tracing patterns on his skin. 

“It’s all I had,” you murmur, ignoring the ache in your throat from unshed tears. 

“I have more clothes at home for you to take,” he promises, rubbing your shoulder. 

“I’ll take a bag with me, then,” you sneer. He pinches your thigh playfully. 

“Hey!”

“Swiper, no swiping!”

“Aw. Man!” You laugh, poking Yoongi in the ribs. He winces, sticking his tongue out at you before you’re both startled by his phone vibrating on your nightstand. 

Your brother’s name appears on the screen and you both freeze. Carefully, Yoongi untangles himself from you before answering the call, selecting speakerphone and placing his finger over his lips. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, go home and grab an overnight bag. It’s my last night at home and I want to spend it with you and my sister.”

“I thought you and Steph were going to move her stuff in?” Yoongi asks.

“We got most of it but her parents want to take her to dinner. This is her first time moving out so it’s a big deal. Her siblings are a little upset, as well. She’s the first to move.” 

“That’s gotta be rough,” Yoongi states. He knows your parents were used to your brother coming and going so there was no big to do or celebration for him. 

“Yeah, but they’ll be able to visit often. We live a few blocks away from her parents home. Anyway, I’ll be another hour or so. I have to drop off Steph and then grab dinner for us. I’ll call when I’m close so you can help me bring the food in. I gotta go,” your brother doesn’t let Yoongi get another word in before he hangs up.

“Guess I’m staying the night,” Yoongi chuckles as you wrap your arms around him. 

“Good. I like it when you’re here,” you kiss his cheek before getting out of bed and putting on a pair of shorts. 

“Come on, let’s go to your place.”

“You just want to take more of my stuff,” Yoongi chuckles as he gets up and pops into your closet for a shirt. 

“I’ll see when we get there.” You smile, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before taking his hand to lead him out of your bedroom and out of your home. 

“Don’t expect much,” Yoongi tells you as he unlocks his front door. “I wasn’t expecting guests.”

“Lemme in!” You pout, nearly stomping your foot on his unwelcome mat. The cat flipping you off totally sets off the mood. Yoongi didn’t like visitors much less those unannounced, so this was an enormous deal for him.

“I’m going! I’m going!” He exclaims as you slide your hands under his shirt, wanting to feel his body once again and knowing you’d end up making out on his doorstep if he didn’t let you in soon. 

With an exaggerated flair, Yoongi opens the door and allows you in. You nearly tackle him out of the way in your haste inside. 

Yoongi’s apartment is so him. The living room is large with an old gray couch, black cushions fluffed up, and sitting on top. His coffee table is small but littered with magazines and books half read and forgotten. 

On the wall opposite the couch sits a large TV mounted in line with the couch. The TV stand beneath it is simple, charcoal in color, and holds all of Yoongi’s consoles and a few board games. 

In the corner, a black guitar sits on its stand and Yoongi gives you a minute to browse his game collection.  

“I’m gonna pack a bag while you snoop,” he calls as he heads to his bedroom. 

“I’m not snooping!” You shout in response but his laughter is the only answer you get. 

However, you linger at his video games, several titles sounding familiar and you gasp when you see a binder tucked under one of the consoles. You open it, surprised to see old Pokémon cards followed by old Yu-Gi-Oh cards. You had your own set tucked in the back of your closet, collecting dust and holding precious memories of your past. 

You set the binder back in its place before going down the hallway toward Yoongi’s bedroom. 

The bedroom door is cracked and you push it open further. Yoongi looks up from his duffel bag sitting on the bed. His closet is open and he waves his hand toward it. 

“Pick a few things you like,” he simply says as he walks to his dresser to get a pair of socks and some underwear. You smile when you go through every shirt once and then twice, picking up a few you like. 

Yoongi chuckles when he sees your hands full. He takes them from you and folds them neatly to stuff on top of his other belongings. 

“Guess I’ll have to go shopping soon,” he muses as he sets the bag on his nightstand and reaches for you. 

“Come here.”

You do so, kissing his cheek to make him blush when he drops the two of you on his bed. 

You scoot further, getting comfy and staring up at the ceiling. You wonder how wonderful it would be to wake up just like this, wrapped in Yoongi’s embrace every morning. 

Yoongi scoots closer, his fingers lacing with yours. 

“Tell me everything I missed,” Yoongi whispers as he brings your hand to his lips, planting a soft kiss on your hand. 

“Where to begin?” You muse as you turn to face him. His gaze bores into yours and he looks so cute with his hair splayed out on his pillow and his soft pink lips turned upward in an encouraging smile. 

You collect your thoughts, soon telling him about everything he missed. The struggles of university, the little fights with friends, your new favorite foods, and ones you couldn’t stand the sight of. You talked of vacations and concerts, jobs you were considering applying for, and those you wanted to avoid, and Yoongi listened intently. He took mental notes, thought of date ideas based on your interests, and laughed when you did. 

“What about you?” You ask when you’re done. 

“Hmm?”

You laugh. “What were you up to?”

“Oh, you know, the usual,” Yoongi shrugs noncommittally and you poke his chest. With a laugh, he takes your finger and brings it to his mouth, teeth nipping your fingertip. 

“Hey!”

A smile tugs at his lips when he releases you. Sighing, he looks up at the ceiling for a moment. “Parties, work, made a few new friends. Not a lot, honestly.”

You climb on his lap, straddling his hips. Yoongi’s hands go to your waist, sliding under your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin. 

“How many nights did you spend in bed thinking of me?” You ask boldly, heart racing in your chest. 

“All of them,” he answers honestly as his hand moves to cup your face, bringing you to his lips. 

A needy moan escapes you when his teeth tug on your bottom lip, his other hand moving down the curve of your back to grab a handful of your ass. 

“Always thought of you. Of seeing you again. Of holding you again, kissing you. There’s not a moment I didn’t think of you. Never knew if I could ever have you,” Yoongi admits. 

“Yoongi,” you say his name breathlessly, gripping his shirt to make sure he won’t disappear this time. 

Yoongi swallows thickly as he looks up at you. He sighs heavily, pushing your hair out of your face. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t try harder. I’m sorry I let you go so easily. I never want to make you feel like that again. That weekend meant something to me. I never want you to think that it didn’t.”

Softly, you caress his cheek. Your gaze is intense as you refuse to look away from him. His hands settle on your hips, more for him than for you, needing something to anchor him. 

“After you left, in the morning he came to my room happy I’d gotten over my crush on you,” you explain, batting away the tears that form. “I don’t want to lose either of you.”

Yoongi takes your hands in his, fingers laced as he squeezes tight. “We’ll tell him about us this time. He’ll understand now.”

“You think so?” You bite your lip as you ponder what your brother’s reaction will be. You haven’t talked much since he got back in town, his impending move taking up most of his time and now his soon-to-be-fiancée.

“He will. It won’t be like last time. I swear,” Yoongi’s tone is firm, already decided. 

“Okay,” you nod, curling into his side as he kisses the top of your head. 

Yoongi holds you for a few more minutes before the two of you leave his home. He treasures the last few minutes with you before he has to keep his hands to himself for the rest of the night. 

“Who else is coming?” You ask when Yoongi and your brother set the bags of takeout on the table. 

“Just us?” Your brother responds, puzzled. “Why?”

You wave your hand at the bags and your brother shrugs. “I’m hungry. I'm a growing boy.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi huffs laughter. “Growing to be a pain in the butt.”

“I resent that! Now sit down and let’s eat!” Your brother grins as he hands out random bags to you and Yoongi to unpack while he grabs condiments out of the fridge and some cutlery from a drawer. 

“I don’t want to hear you groaning later when you can’t find the Tums,” you roll your eyes at your brother but he laughs. 

“You don’t have to worry about me,” he says as he points to a bag on the couch. It’s red and has a zipper, resembling a school supply bag but when you take a peek inside you cackle. 

“Laugh now, brat, that’s your future,” your brother scoffs.

You look at the contents of the bag again and giggle. It’s stuffed to the brim with over-the-counter medication, most of them for your brother’s tummy troubles; Imodium, Tums, Pepto, and Gas-x.

“Yoon,” you call as you set the pouch back down on the couch after zipping it back up. “I recommend you sleep on the couch tonight.”

“Hey!” Your brother exclaims. “I’m not that bad.”

You and Yoongi share a look before you turn to your affronted brother. “You are that bad.”

Cursing, your brother ignores the two of you as he takes a bite of his taco, drowning it in lime juice and hot sauce. 

He grumbles under his breath for most of the meal while you and Yoongi exchange glances.

Thirty minutes later, the three of you are piling onto the couch. You’ve got one end and Yoongi has the other. Your brother settles on the recliner as he watches the movie he picked out. His hand has been rubbing his stomach for a few moments and his bag of goodies (as he calls it) lays open at his side. 

“I bet the little sister did it,” he says as he rocks in the recliner before fishing a Tums out of his bag. 

“Dude,” Yoongi curses. “It just started.”

“It’s not like it’s a crime,” you shrug. You’ve already seen the movie before but your brother was intrigued and nothing else sounded like a good watch while in a food coma. Besides, you did enjoy the film anyway. 

“If I fall asleep, let me know if I’m right,” he yawns as he rubs his stomach one more time. 

It’s not long until he’s snoring in the chair, drowning out the movie, and leaving you and Yoongi to secretly hold hands under a couch cushion. 

“He’s down for the count,” Yoongi whispers as he shuts and locks your door after getting your brother up to bed. 

“Are you sure?” You ask, panicked.

Yoongi nods. “He took some melatonin and knocked out.”

You hush Yoongi, pressing your finger to his lips. You wait a moment, ignoring the heat of his lips on your skin. You’re startled when your brother’s snore rattles the home.

“Told ya,” Yoongi chuckles. You move your finger off his lips, but Yoongi wraps his hand around your wrist to plant a kiss on the sensitive skin. You watch him with a heated gaze, licking your lips when his eyes lock on yours.

It’s not long until the both of you are over each other, kissing urgently on your way to your bed. Yoongi climbs on you as your hands grip his shirt, nearly tearing it off his body in your haste.

Chuckling, Yoongi removes his shirt and tosses it on the floor. You lie beneath him, your hands roaming across his broad chest, pulling him close to kiss him again. 

A growl escapes him. He ignores the throb of his cock when he realizes you’re wearing one of the shirts you stole from him. 

“Baby,” he rasps. His low voice sounds grave as he curses, grabbing your thighs in his hands and tugging you toward him. 

“Yoongi,” you gasp, immediately covering your mouth with your hand. 

Both of you freeze, hearts thudding obscenely loudly as you wait for the tell-tale snore that comes a moment later. 

Yoongi sighs in relief as he grips your panties and rips them down your thighs. He pockets them before you can protest.  He bunches your shirt and has you bite down on it. 

“Not a sound, baby. We can’t get caught,” he says as you nod, already drooling on the shirt.

Smirking, Yoongi palms his cock as he spreads your legs with his other hand. 

“Touch yourself for me, baby. Show me how you pleasure yourself when you think of me,” he instructs as he sits on the edge of the bed. 

You bite back a moan, shyly spreading your legs as he continues to palm his cock over his shorts. His chains shine in the light of your bedroom, and you wonder what they’d feel like dragging across your heated skin as he hovers above you, filling you full of his cock. 

“Yoongi,” you breathe as your eyes meet his, and your hand moves from your breast down to the apex of your thighs. Yoongi follows the movement, cursing when your fingers land on your clit. 

You’re slow with your movements, gently rubbing your clit in circles. Pleasure courses through you. You become aware of how wet you are when you move your hand lower. 

Yoongi licks his lips as he watches you, nearly growling when you spread your fingers and your arousal coats them both generously.

Without blinking, Yoongi strips until he’s bare. His tongue peeks from between his lips as he wraps his hand around his length. He’s slow with his strokes, eyes hooded and focused on your wet cunt. 

Cursing, Yoongi feels his heart flutter when his name tumbles from your lips. Your head lolls back as you arch, your fingers sliding in and out of you faster and faster. Your legs shake, gasps spilling from your lips as you look up to see Yoongi jerking off to you.

“Is this how you touched yourself while thinking of me?” He asks with a lustful look that sends tingles down your spine.

“Only thought of you,” you whisper. “Thought of your cock filling me up, making me cum, making me cream.”

“Fuck,” Yoongi groans deeply as he moves forward, his hand grabbing the nape of your neck as he pulls you into a kiss that makes your whole body tingle with pleasure. 

Soon, his fingers replace yours. His thumb rubs your clit as his lips smother your moans. Your hands wrap around his dick, moaning as you stroke him with your wet fingers. 

“Fuck, baby. Just like that,” he encourages as he rocks his hips.

His lips mark your neck in tiny constellations that you’ll smile about later on when he takes a photo of his hand wrapped around your throat and your hickeys peeking through.

“Focus on me, love.” Yoongi pouts as his thumb adds more pressure to your clit, and you whimper. Your eyes are wide, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as your legs tremble. 

A smirk appears on Yoongi’s face. “That’s it, baby. Tell me who’s making you feel this good.”

“You,” you answer in a gasp. “Yoongi!”

Yoongi kisses you, silencing you as you cum on his delicious fingers. You moan as his tongue meets yours, your fingers threaded in his hair as you soak the sheets beneath you.

Slowly, Yoongi removes his fingers, chuckling when you groan. 

“Fuck, I can’t wait for you to fuck me.” You giggle, catching him off guard. 

He puckers his lips in surprise, cheeks pink as he brings his fingers to his lips to suck clean.

“Think you can handle it, princess?” Yoongi goads.

You nod. “I’ve thought about it a lot.”

Yoongi curses, carding his fingers through his hair as he ignores the twitch of his cock. You notice, grinning as you wrap your hand around him once more. You move until Yoongi settles between your legs, his cock head pressed to your clit as you grind against him.

“Shit, babe. If you keep doing that, I might just cum,” Yoongi admits ruefully. 

You smile devilishly as you continue, moving forward to kiss Yoongi, biting his bottom lip and tugging at it just to make him growl. 

He’s at your mercy, moaning softly as you move faster. Fuck, you’re soaking his cock, drenching every inch, and the head keeps rubbing on your clit. He’d love nothing more than to have you wrapped around him, screaming his name for the whole block to hear, but he can’t. Not yet at least. 

For now, he’ll have to settle for this. Though you don’t make it easy on him as you moan his name and sink your teeth into his shoulder to muffle another scream of his name as your thighs quiver and you cum with his head between your lips. Yoongi chuckles, licking his lips as he wraps his hand over yours on his dick. His pace is faster as he looks at your wet cunt, biting back an earth-shattering moan of your name as he cums all over your pussy and clit. 

The warmth spreads along your skin as you fall back onto the pillows with a goofy grin. Yoongi smiles, kissing your lips quickly before he kisses down your body. 

He paused at your tit, taking the hard nipple into his mouth, teeth gently tugging it before releasing it and moving to the other. Your hand grips his hair, cursing when the drag of his chains leaves goosebumps in their wake as he kisses further down your body until he’s grabbing your thighs in each of his gorgeous hands. 

With ease, Yoongi places your legs over his broad shoulders as he settles between your thighs. His mouth waters at the sight of your pussy, arousal, and his cum mixed on your mound. 

Teasingly, he licks your clit first. Slowly circling it just to watch you twitch as your hand covers your mouth to keep quiet. Yoongi smirks to himself as he repeats the action, muffling his moan in your inner thigh as he gets the first taste of your mixed pleasure. 

Nothing could ever taste as wonderful.

Yoongi’s a menace with his tongue, more so than you could have ever imagined. Your fantasies are nothing but weak interpretations of reality. His tongue licks every bit of you, cleaning up your cum and his as if his life depends on it. 

It doesn’t take him long to get you to cum one more time. 

“Come on, princess,” he encourages with a sweet coo. “Just one more for me, darling. You can do it, right?”

“Yes,” you breathe as your eyes flutter shut, your lashes kissing your cheeks. 

“Mm,” Yoongi hums. “Maybe next time it’ll be my cock instead of my tongue and fingers.”

You whine, begging him to fuck you as his fingers curl inside you, slowly pumping in and out as his lips wrap around your clit. 

“Please,” you beg. “I want your cock. Need it.”

Yoongi laughs, smiling as he swirls his tongue around your clit one more time. 

“So needy. I can’t wait to fuck you, baby. Spread you open and have you wrapped around me. Stuff you full of my cock until you can’t help but scream my name,” Yoongi states as you lose yourself in your orgasm, muffling your moans with your hand. 

Yoongi curses, licking his lips as he eats you out through your pleasure. He only slows when you tug his hair twice.

A soft kiss is pressed to your temple as he lies beside you. You’re worn out, and a little sleepy. You don’t want him to leave, but you know your brother would punch him or worse if he found Yoongi in your bedroom or even suspected it.

You’re honestly surprised you can still hear him snoring upstairs. Unaware of all that’s taken place just a floor below. 

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” you whisper as you feel him pull the covers over the two of you. 

“I know, baby.” Yoongi sighs. “I’ll stay as long as I can. It won’t always be like this.”

“Promise?” You ask softly. 

“I promise,” he assures you with a kiss to your lips.

Yoongi holds you until he’s sure you’re asleep. He wonders what it would be like to stay in bed with you all night. To wake up to your beautiful smile each day. 

The ache that follows keeps him awake until he’s sneaking out of your bedroom door, fully clothed. 

When he’s on the couch in the living room, his thoughts cloud his mind preventing him from sleeping. 

He should just tell your brother. After all, you were all adults and he knew he wanted to pursue this. He hadn’t been with anyone since you and he didn’t want to be with anyone else. Of that he was sure. 

What if he lost you and his best friend, though? Would he be able to move on?

Yoongi sighs heavily as he closes his eyes and throws his arms over them. It looks like another sleepless night for him.

What a shock.

The next morning is busy.

Your parents are back home for breakfast. Your mother and father make food for everyone before heading to your brother’s apartment to clean it despite your brother’s protests.

“It’s clean to the landlord’s standards, not mine,” your mother states as she heads out the door with her cleaning supplies and your father behind her.

Yoongi chuckles as he leans against the counter. “She did the same thing to my place with my mom.”

“I don’t know why I tried talking her out of it. Oh, well.” Your brother shakes his head as he gets a phone call from the movers. 

Yoongi, your father, and your brother have spent most of the morning moving your brother’s boxes to the garage. Anything he deemed fragile was piled up in his car. 

Since your brother mostly lived abroad, and he was getting new furniture with Steph, he wasn’t taking too much with him. Your job was to unpack with Steph, and Yoongi’s was to help your brother unload his car and make sure your mother didn’t go overboard in her cleaning.

Your brother should be moved in by the end of the night, which meant there was no real reason for Yoongi to hang out at your place without an excuse. Yoongi had texted you assurances very early in the morning and it’s not like your brother wouldn’t laze around at your parents’ place like before, just less so.

However, that meant his place would be off-limits as well if your brother showed up unexpectedly. It didn’t matter, Yoongi would figure it out.

He promised.

Hours later, you’re finishing up at your brother’s place. Most of his items are unpacked with his help and Steph’s. Your mom has finished cleaning to her satisfaction and headed out with your father.

Your brother bought you all lunch, and now that you were done, there was nothing else to do but leave.

“I’ll take her home,” Yoongi offers. “I have some errands to run anyway.”

“You sure?” your brother asks as he throws the trash into the trashcan. 

“Yeah, gotta get a few things at the store,” Yoongi shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. You pull your phone out, asking Jimin to cover for you for a few hours in case your parents or brother ask.

[Jimin-bee]: whatcha gonna do?

[you]: talk

[Jimin-bee]: TALK ha! Let me know when you’re done and use condoms

You don’t reply.

“That’s fine,” you fake a yawn. “I’m tired anyway. You enjoy your first night here.”

Your brother nods, smiling as he pulls you into a hug. “Come over whenever.” 

“Sure,” you nod.

“But call first,” your brother laughs before he walks you to the door with Yoongi. You wave at Steph as you leave with Yoongi in tow. The both of you walk down the hall toward the stairs, waiting for the door to shut before Yoongi pulls you into the stairwell.

“Fuck,” you moan when your back meets the wall. Yoongi captures your lips with his. Yoongi’s hand rests on the wall right beside your head as he kisses you deeply. Your hands immediately grab fistfuls of his shirt as you kiss him back, moaning when his hips press against yours.

“You’re already hard,” you giggle as he kisses down your jaw to your neck.

“I like kissing you,” he murmurs against your skin.

“Yoongi,” you moan as he sucks on your neck, his hand going to your hip to pull you toward him. You melt under his touch, only remembering where you are when the door slams from the next floor and footsteps echo as they grow closer.

The both of you pull apart, adjusting your hair as you take Yoongi’s hand in yours and head up the stairs. His place was on the third floor, far, far away from your brother on the first floor.

You don’t make eye contact with the man who passes by you on the stairs. Yoongi smiles to himself, hiding it with his hair before he goes stoic and looks up.

“Good evening,” he says simply as you continue heading up the stairs.

“Evening,” the man responds as he takes the stairs down. 

It only takes a few more minutes before you’re in Yoongi’s apartment, pressed to the door as you kick your shoes off.

Yoongi grins as he takes his shirt off while you tug your top off. You’ve wanted him since you saw him this morning. It was hard to watch him lifting heavy boxes with his veins looking so prominent. The way he shook his long hair out of his eyes or when his hands pushed it back. Memories of last night hit you hard when you looked at his hands, remembering what his fingers felt like inside you. 

Every time he laughed, your heart fluttered, wishing more than anything you could reach for him and hold him. Just touch him without your brother or parents having a problem with you two. You doubt your parents would have anything negative to say if you and him started dating but your brother’s discontent and possible fury kept you from exposing the relationship at the moment. It wouldn’t be like this forever, though. You had hoped your brother could understand, he was older now, more mature, right?

“What are you thinking, baby?” Yoongi asks softly as he cups your face. His thumb strokes your cheek as he locks eyes with you. You lean into his touch.

“Just want everyone to know about us,” you admit in a whisper, apprehensive of his answer.

“I want that too,” you perk up at his response, eyes shining with hope. 

“You do?”

“Of course, baby. It won’t always be like this. Soon, we’ll let them all know that you’re my girl. Just a little longer,” he assures you as you lean in to kiss him, fingers laced in his long locks as he leads you to his bedroom after locking his front door.

The next morning, you stir before you wake. Sleep clings to your eyes as you rub them, groaning when an alarm goes off.

“Ugh,” you grunt as you sit up, finally opening your eyes as Yoongi shuts the alarm off. 

“Sorry, babe. I have to work today,” he says as he kisses your cheek before getting out of bed. You grumble as you fall back onto the pillows. The shirt you took from Yoongi bunched at your hips, thighs smeared with your arousal from last night as he ate you out again and made you cum around his fingers twice.

“Don’t go,” you grumble as you roll over to face him. He chuckles as he looks over at you.

“I have to, baby. I asked for yesterday off because I knew your brother would want to hang out after graduation. Time to go make money.” Yoongi grabs his things and heads for the shower. “Wanna join?”

You kick the covers off you as you follow him into the bathroom, giggling when he opens the bathroom cabinet to show you toothbrushes, toothpaste, mouthwash, skincare, and lotions, all in bulk.

“I like to shop at the bulk stores,” he says shyly. “Easier to keep everything stocked when you work from home.”

“Cutie,” you smile, kissing his cheek before turning the shower on and stepping in. Yoongi follows you, kissing you when you’re both under the shower spray. You know this could easily turn to more if your hands wander too low and Yoongi has to clock in.

You take your time, feeling each other and sharing kisses until Yoongi gets out to grab your towel and wrap you in it before he wraps one around his waist. 

The two of you do your morning routines, and you smile to yourself when your toothbrush sits beside his own. 

Soon, you’re both dressed. Yoongi makes a pot of coffee, making it just the way you like it when a knock comes on the door.

Your eyes widen as Yoongi heads to the door, to look through the peephole.

“It’s your brother. Fuck,” he hisses.

You get out of your seat, run to the bedroom, and hide in the closet.

Yoongi looks over his shoulder to make sure you’re out of sight before he opens the door to let your brother in. He’s thankful he only had enough time to make your coffee before he came knocking. He’s not sure how he would have explained two mugs.

“Hey,” Yoongi greets him, as your brother lets himself in. “What’s up?”

“I texted you but you didn’t answer,” your brother explains as Yoongi shuts the door. 

“Sorry, I was in the shower. Just got out. I work soon,” Yoongi shrugs as he refrains from looking at the bedroom. He’s sure he’s thrown all the clothing in the hamper. He was gonna toss your clothing and his from yesterday into his washer while he worked, so you’d have something clean to go home in.

By the time he took you home, your parents should still be working, so nobody would know if you had spent the night elsewhere. 

At the moment, you were dressed in one of his shirts and sweatpants. You were going to lounge around his home until his workday ended and you had to go home for the night.

“Do you want to go get breakfast?” your brother asks Yoongi as he looks around the apartment. 

“Sorry, I can’t,” Yoongi says. “I’ve got to clock in a little earlier today.”

“Boo,” your brother laughs. 

You wish him away, wanting to leave the closet as soon as possible. Your heart is racing in your chest, and you almost wonder if they can hear it out in the living room.

“Oh, well,” your brother shrugs. “Maybe next time?”

“Yeah, sure,” Yoongi agrees as your brother walks toward the front door. He almost smiles in relief when they get to the door but your brother stops and turns on his heel at the last second.

Yoongi is confused as your brother heads for his bedroom.

“Dude!” Yoongi calls after him, palms sweating as he follows him as fast as he can, trying to keep from looking suspicious.

“My mom said our letterman jackets were in your closet. I’ll just check real quick,” Your brother explains as he beelines it for the closet. “Steph doesn’t believe I was on varsity.”

“I’ll check,” Yoongi says as he scans the room but doesn’t see you. He knows you ran into it and not the half bath in the hallway.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to barge in. I just remembered. I figured since I was already here,” Your brother looks sheepish, and apologetic as he opens the closet doors anyway and Yoongi can feel sweat beading on his brow.

Fuck.

You were fucked.

Your brother pushes a few jackets out of the way in his search, stepping in a little further as you pull your feet toward you and cover your mouth and nose to silence your breathing as much as possible.

Your brother steps on your toe, and you bite back a scream as he moves his foot and moves more clothing out of the way.

“Damn, how many clothes do you need? You have three of these shirts in three colors,” your brother laughs as he pushes them out of the way and turns to look at Yoongi.

Yoongi shrugs. 

There’s no way he won’t find you, and all he can do is take a step back to give you room to crawl out when you’re discovered.

“Ah, I see it,” your brother grins as he pushes some more thick coats out of the way and grabs his jacket. In his haste, he drops the hanger onto the floor.

When he bends down to pick it up, he makes eye contact with you. Your hand is still over your mouth, eyes wide as you look at him.

Your brother says your full name as he steps back and you crawl out of the closet before getting to your feet.

You wave weakly. “Hi.”

“What the fuck are you doing here? Why aren’t you home? Why are you wearing his clothes?” Your brother’s mind is whirling. The last thing he expected was to see you here!

“Um, you see,” you bite your lip, unsure of what to say.

“She spent the night,” Yoongi states.

Your brother whirls around to look at Yoongi, brows furrowed.

“Why?”

“Because he’s my boyfriend now,” you say sheepishly, avoiding eye contact.

“I need to sit,” your brother pulls Yoongi’s desk chair toward him and sits. His jacket falls to his feet as he inhales and exhales a few times.

“Mind telling me what’s going on with my little sister, dude?” Your brother asks his best friend. He figured you two liked each other, but what was this spending the night shit? So soon? Without even telling him first? The fuck?

“We just started dating Sunday,” Yoongi explains as he sits on the edge of his bed, now that he’s twenty percent sure your brother wasn’t gonna punch him in the face. You go sit beside Yoongi, lacing your fingers together. Your brother doesn’t miss the gesture.

“And you didn’t think to tell me first?” your brother can’t help but sound hurt. He thought the three of you were better than to keep secrets.

“We wanted to, but look at how you’re reacting,” you sigh, squeezing Yoongi’s hand. You can barely focus with your heart thundering in your ears. Your hands grow clammy in Yoongi’s hold but he says nothing as your brother shakes his head.

Here it comes.

“I’m upset!” Your brother exclaims. “You kept this from me!”

“Because you told me last time that you were glad I didn’t like Yoongi anymore! I couldn’t lose you, so I didn’t see Yoongi again until you invited him to my graduation.”

Your brother places his palms over his face, his elbows resting on his knees as he exhales. He had said that. However, that was three years ago before he knew much about love. He always wondered why you never came around when Yoongi was there, but now everything was falling into place.

If he was honest with himself, he wasn’t upset over you guys. He knew it was inevitable after your years of crushing on Yoongi, and Yoongi didn’t help himself in recent years. Maybe he would have peeped it earlier if he had noted the way Yoongi looked at photos of you. There was always something more in his gaze.

“You still should have told me,” your brother looks up, making eye contact with Yoongi and then you. “Either of you.”

“We’re sorry,” Yoongi apologizes. “We should have but we’re still taking this slow. We don’t want to make any mistakes. I can’t lose her for another three years again. The last time hurt too much,” Yoongi looks at you before looking at your brother. “It hurt us both.”

“The last time?” your brother is puzzled. He rises from his chair with his jacket in his hands. “What last time? You mean this has happened before?”

“Um, we kissed at my last graduation,” you smile wryly. “Surprise?”

Your brother runs his hand over his face. Man, all he wanted was breakfast and now he had all this information he hadn’t asked for.

“You know what, don’t tell me anymore. You guys have my blessing or whatever, not that you need it. This is fine, just be careful. Don’t hide shit from me anymore,” Your brother shakes his head as he heads for the door.

You grin, hugging Yoongi before you walk your brother to the front door.

You throw your arms around your brother and hug him tightly. “I love you.”

“I love you too, brat. No more secrets,” he reminds you as he releases you and shakes his head one last time. He steps out of the apartment and pauses, “You both owe me breakfast.”

“Will do,” Yoongi grins as he drapes his arm over your shoulder to pull you close. Your brother smiles, seeing the two of you together wasn’t as weird as he thought it would be.

It was your happiness that mattered most of all, right?

Three weeks later, you’re back in Yoongi’s apartment after a night out on the town. You had a wonderful dinner, followed by a romantic walk by the river.

You were eager to get back to his place, kissing him at every chance you got. He had his hand on your thigh the whole drive home, smirking when he’d catch you tracing the veins and his rings.

His hair was slicked back, his chains resting on his chest and his suit fit him perfectly. He had a certain confidence that had you wanting to lick him up and down in public. Yoongi wasn’t able to keep his eyes (or hands) off you in the black dress you wore. Your back was exposed with a low dip that ended right above your lower back. He loved feeling your skin beneath his palm as you walked until you were leading him to the car.

“Take me home,” you had whispered in his ear, biting the lobe before settling in the front seat. That alone was enough to get him to half-mast.

The past few weeks, you’ve taken it slow. You were kissing and making out almost every day. Sometimes he’d fuck you with his fingers or his tongue, and sometimes you’d suck him off but you never went all the way. 

You wanted to, tonight.

Yoongi’s hands grip your hips as your back meets the front door of his apartment. You giggle as his lips trail kisses down your jaw to your neck as your hands palm his chest on their trek to his pants pockets to fish out his keys.

“Fuck,” he curses, his breath fanning across your neck as you cup his erection.

“Oops,” you giggle as you squeeze him one more time before taking the keys out of his pocket. You hand them to him as he tries his best to get the key in the lock, but misses twice as he refuses to stop marking your neck.

“The faster you get me inside, the faster you can feel me wrapped around your cock,” you whisper as his teeth nip your skin.

“Fuck, okay. Yeah,” Yoongi breathes as he cards a hand through his hair. His thoughts are running rampant as he gets the key in the lock and turns it. He pushes the door open, grabbing your hand as he pulls you in.

You smile, kissing him as he shuts the door and presses you against it. One of his hands cups your face, and the other locks the door as he deepens the kiss.

You kick your shoes off, grunting as you trip over them. Yoongi chuckles, easily stepping out of his shoes.

A shirt here, pants there, your dress in a pool of fabric outside Yoongi’s bedroom door, and soon you’re in nothing but panties on his bed as he climbs on top of you between your legs.

Yoongi cups your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin. His dark eyes meet yours as he presses his lips to yours. 

Warmth pools in your belly as your thighs wrap around his hips to pull him closer. Yoongi moans softly as his cock presses to your panty-clad cunt. He breathes your name, trailing kisses to your neck as your fingers thread in his inky locks.

“Yoongi,” his name rolls off your tongue in a tone so sweet, he can almost taste it when you moan again.

“That’s it, love. Let me hear those moans, don’t be shy,” He encourages as he moves downward and your hands move to his shoulders for a moment before he’s kissing one breast and groping the other.

Yoongi takes his time with you, kissing and caressing every inch of your body. His lips mark your skin, his teeth nibble gently just to listen to you sigh. Your hands grip the sheets, tugging on them as he teases you.

“Yoongi,” you breathe, nearly melting into a puddle when his tongue swirls around your nipple, sucking it just to make you gasp as his large hand grips your thigh.

“Yes?” he asks with a lopsided grin. “What is it, baby?”

“Please, stop teasing me,” you plead, biting your bottom lip as his lips kiss down your body until he’s settled between your thighs. 

Yoongi smirks, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your mound. “Who’s teasing?”

“Yoongi!” 

Chuckling, Yoongi kisses your thigh as his fingertip circles your clit once. 

“Yoongi!”

He laughs, his gummy smile making you giggle. “I’ll stop teasing.”

“You promise?” you ask with a raised brow, but Yoongi doesn’t answer. Instead, he dips between your parted legs, his tongue licking your wet folds as your eyes flutter shut and you curse at the ceiling.

Yoongi doesn’t waste a second as he grabs handfuls of your thighs and pulls you closer. You squeal in surprise and laugh when he kisses your inner thigh. 

“Cutie,” he murmurs before he’s trailing kisses to the apex of your thighs. He’s slow and teasing with his tongue, listening closely to every gasp and moan that escapes your pretty lips. 

It’s not too long before your hand is gripping his thick hair, begging for more as he pushes two of his fingers inside you, curling them until you’re nearly screaming his name. 

“So fucking wet for me, princess,” Yoongi curses, licking his lips before going back to the task at hand. You curse, back arching and thighs trembling as blissful pleasure courses through your veins. 

“Yoongi! Baby!” You exclaim, thighs shaking as your breath grows ragged and your eyes squeeze shut. 

“Fuck,” Yoongi licks his lips as he watches you fall apart, pussy clenching around his fingers as his thumb rubs your clit and you cry out one last time before lying boneless on the bed. 

“Come here,” you demand when you catch your breath. 

Grinning, Yoongi kisses your clit one last time before moving beside you. 

You kiss him immediately, your hands cupping his face as he pulls you on top of him. Your legs go on either side of his hips as your wet cunt sits on his cock. 

“We should,” Yoongi kisses you. “Get a condom.”

You nod, kissing him again, your tongue meeting his as he reaches blindly on his nightstand. He chuckles, moving you off him for a moment to open the drawer, take a handful of condoms out, and set them on the nightstand within reach. 

“How many do you think we’ll need?” You ask with wide eyes.

Yoongi throws his head back and laughs, kissing your cheek when he calms down. 

“Hopefully all of them,” he smiles cheekily. “But let’s start with one for tonight.”

“Yes,” you agree as you kiss him again as Yoongi rips open the packet, tossing the wrapper on the nightstand. 

With ease, Yoongi is ready in seconds as he lies you down on the bed. He kisses you gently, his thumb stroking your cheek as he pulls away. 

His dark eyes lock on yours, and your heart flutters. 

“We can stop whenever you want to, princess. Just say the word, okay?”

“Yes,” you nod, kissing him deeply as he lines himself up at your entrance. 

You gasp when he pushes in, nails digging into his forearms as his face gets buried in your neck. 

“Fuck,” he curses as he gives you a moment to adjust. He kisses your neck, shoulders,, and cheek until you give him the go ahead to go further. 

Before too long, pleasure courses through you as you moan Yoongi’s name. 

“Fuck, love,” Yoongi nearly loses himself. You’re so warm and wet, tightening around him as he fucks into you again and again. He’s overcome with emotion as his eyes lock with yours. He never thought he’d get a second chance with you, not after he left so abruptly and there was no contact between you. He knows it’s probably too early in the relationship to say I love you, but he feels it in every fiber of his being. 

With every kiss, with every touch, with every sigh, he falls deeper and deeper in love and there’s nothing he would ever do to stop it.

You breathe his name, kissing him as he goes deeper and you fall, fall, fall into pleasure. 

This is better than you could have ever imagined. Better than all your daydreams and anything your imagination had conjured throughout the years. Love blooms in your chest as you grip his shoulder tights, your hands sliding down until your fingers lace with his. Pleasure courses through your veins, nearly consuming you.

“So big and thick,” you whisper, making Yoongi chuckle as he sucks on your neck. 

“I said that aloud didn’t I?” You feel the heat rise to your cheeks from embarrassment.

“You did,” Yoongi giggles as he kisses you again, his hips rocking into yours as your legs cling to his hips to pull him closer. 

“This is perfect,” you whisper as your body tingles and Yoongi’s fingers rub your clit. You shake, moaning as you meet each of Yoongi’s thrusts with your hips. 

“Yoongi!”

“That’s it, baby. Cum for me,” Yoongi instructs, kissing you as you tighten around him and lose yourself to the pleasure. 

Yoongi follows soon after, moaning your name in between pants before he pulls out of you. He discards the used condom quickly before lying at your side. 

“You okay?” He asks gently as he pulls you into his arms. You smile brightly, nodding. 

“Perfect,” you respond as you kiss his bare chest. “Can we do it again?”

Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head incredulously. 

“As much as you’d like, princess.”

© jjungkookislife - I do not allow reposts or translations of my work on any platforms, including Youtube. 

[shiny-kaibernyte]

It's my Birthday!

March 19th and im a year closer to meeting Arceus lucky me! So here is some of my Pokémon simps headcannons as to how they would celebrate your birthday. (I was going to do my top 5 simps but they are all from different things so I'm gonna leave those to myself) There will be no Scarlett and violet characters. They will be in they're own post (There's a lot I like)

Characters: Adaman, Lysander, Raihan, Leon, Cynthia, Volo

💙💎Adaman💎💙

Adaman’s number one rule is that every moment counts. So when it comes to planning your birthday, he makes sure every second he spends planning results in the perfect outcome.

He would make sure to remember all of your favourite things to do and put as many as he can in one day without overdoing it. Adaman was always good at planning. Execution was the problem.

Headstrong and passionate don’t tend to go well together, so no matter how many hours he spends detailing everything. Planning around possible problems; as always something is bound to go wrong.

Surprise bandit attack; Alpha attack; Something happens in the Demand clan; Irida

Will that stop him from making this day all about you? Arceus no! He’s just gonna try harder to make you happy. Even if you're already beaming with the royal treatment he is giving you. Adaman won’t stop until the sun is gone, and he’s carrying you back home.

I would try and pinpoint 1 specific thing he’d do, but Adaman would do basically anything you wanted. Your wish was his command, whatever you wanted to do - he would do. Want to go on a catching spree? Sure. Want to walk along the coastal beach, when do we leave? Want to scale the cobalt mountains to reach the temple of Sinnoh? He’s already racing you up there.

You could drag him to the Alabaster Iceland's and he would follow you like a Fidough. It’s your day and he is going to make damn sure you feel like royalty by the end.

🧡☕Lysandre☕🧡

Lysandre is a busy man. Being the leader of Team flare and running his company and keeping his goal of beauty running smoothly. Time is not something he has! But for his darling's birthday, that's time he is happy to put aside.

He wouldn’t be particularly flashy about what he does for your birthday. He is a gentleman aftercall! Not psychotic at all he's fine i swear. Don’t expect Tengen Uzui level flashy. Lysandre is much more laid back than that. He won’t show you off to the world if you aren't comfortable with it.

His personal life is something he likes to keep behind closed doors, so for your birthday, the most public he would get is taking you out around Lumios, weather that be a shopping spree, a nice conversation at a quiet café. Dinner at a nice restaurant would be a must however. He still wants you to feel special so he will spoil you rotten with gifts. Dudes got the money to burn. 

I can see Lysandre planning something beforehand to keep the paparazzi distracted. Like calling in a favour with a friend high up and having them stage something on the other side of the city so you two can be together in peace.

Once you two get home, he will spend the night with you watching any movie or show you want. Reading with you, just talking with you. Anything you want so long as he can see that beautiful smile of yours. 

Lysandre will go to bed with you but… It's a 50/50 shot if he will still be in bed when you wake up. If he is there, lucky you! If he isn’t there, expect an apology note written quite detailed and a nice breakfast with a simple apology gift next to it.

💗🐉Raihan🐉💗

Battle dates. This man will take you to every single gym tournament and battle he can just to watch your excited face when something awesome happens. Seeing his treasure smile makes him all bubbly and giddy.

But don’t worry, he isn't just going to drag you around Galar showing you fight after fight. He isn’t that stupid. Raihan would definitely take you flying on Flygon so you can see the beauty of Galar from his view. Though his view won’t be on the land below.

For once, he will not mention Leon’s name once! I didn’t know that was possible but here we are. Today is about you, so Leon is flicked temporarily out of Raihan's mind and into the naughty corner.

Photo’s everywhere. Anywhere you two go, he will either stop to take a selfie with you or tell you to go pose somewhere so he can capture the moment. Defiantly will ask you before posting the photo though. Sometimes though he will sneak a photo of you when he thinks you like breath-taking. Something to keep to himself. And don't even think about saying you look bad in one of them, because he will then take a million more to prove you wrong. That or smother you in kisses so you won't say it again.

Raihan will be like Lysander when it comes to gifts. This man will SPOIL YOU! Anything you want, you’d have to grab him by the hood to stop him taking the crowd of people down with him. 

He would 1000% be down for a movie marathon as well if you would rather stay inside. He will have a fort built, snacks at the ready and every movie ready.

💜🎮Leon🎮💜

Bless his soul, he has no idea what to do. Leon would want to take you somewhere really nice he found during his travels, if only he could remember which direction it was in. Then he thought about a nice restaurant you had mentioned wanting to try. Which city was that in again? Perhaps he could take you out to the beach, where was that again?

He would leave it at. “I’ll follow you.” So just drag him around with you and he will gladly follow you and do what you wanna do. Just nothing reckless, he won’t do anything that could get you hurt. Unlike Raihan he would avoid battle arenas. 

I feel like Leon would 100% be down for a gaming day, he’d let you take him to any game store and buy every game you wanted and just play all of them. Card, board, video all of them. Single player or multiplayer he will be right there cheering you on or giving you competitive gals with a smile.

If you're up for it, Leon would ask if Hop could join you two for a little while, not long as Leon does want to spend the day with you, but Hop sees you as a family too.

Dude cannot read. So do not ask him to read anything, he can’t tell the difference between Your and You’re. But if you like reading out loud, he will have his head in your lap listening to you read if that will make you happy. 

Leon would try and make you the best cake he can! We know this man can decorate very well, the baking half is a hit or miss, definitely would have gotten help from an unknown alias. His mom.

🖤🌺Cynthia🌺🖤

Forest date. This woman would give you the royal treatment. Lysander got nothing on this Queen! She will take you anywhere you want for the day. But if you ask her to pick what you do or… a surprise!? She takes that as a challenge. You will most likely wind up on a secluded part of a meadow surrounded by nature.

Tranquil and beautiful, a place for just the two of you to spend time with one another. No champion duties, paparazzi, endless questions of your relationship. Just Her and you. 

Cynthia’s Roserade would make it subtly rain rose petals around the area to add to her love for you. If it’s raining, she has a plan for that too. No rain is going to ruin your special day! Hope you like dancing in the rain because she is already dragging you out to the flower meadows to dance with you hand in hand.

You can guarantee she has a picnic somewhere hidden, Where you will never know that. But this woman has come PREPARED! She’s prepared for everything, and your birthday is no exception.  She has everything, from your favourite snacks, drinks, everything. Even the blanket is your favourite colour. Cynthia even bought a pillow with her that you could sit on so you wouldn’t be uncomfortable if you wanted it.

Like Raihan her Pokémon would be involved. But instead of flying, she would use her Pokémon to put on a show for you. The rose petals from Roserade being just an example. Her Garchomp would show you a fireworks show when night arrived, along with the help of Togekiss.

She won’t spoil you with gifts. Instead she will have one thing she made for you herself. It won’t be very big, but it will show you the love she has for you. Whatever she made you, expect it to be incredibly meaningful.

💛✨Volo✨💛

Cynthia had to get her skills somewhere and this is where. Volo does everything Cynthia does but somehow even more extra. 

If Cynthia gives you the royal treatment, he is giving you the Deity treatment. Man has Giratina at his call, he can literally give you anything! And he will use it to his advantage at every chance he gets. He will use his craftsman skills to make you a bracelet with all of the stones on as a mark of your journey together. If you want him to make another so you can match, oh look he already did! What are the chances?

This man will take you EVERYWHERE! Even places you have never been to before on the back of Giratina, he will show you the world most don’t get to see. The world he will build for you. But he won’t spoil that surprise.

He would definitely make you food, he travels a lot so cooking is a must know skill. So your birthday with him isn't a day, it's a whole week. And every time he makes you something it is completely different. Volo is taking zero shortcuts on this adventure. He may have a Deity on his team, his Deity is sat Infront of him admiring the stars.

Speaking of Stars. Stargazing is a must on every clear night you two get. He would lay his jacket down for you to lay on and look up at the sky together.

Volo would make sure to stop around different areas and tell you about the history there, watching your expression carefully to see the enthusiasm and curiosity on it which just makes him want to try harder to get that smile to stay there. 

He will also use his trade skills to get you something that caught your eye from wherever he took you. Volo may have money but he will use his skills where he can. Giratina isn’t the only benefit he has. Dude is a travelling merchant after all. He has more knowledge than everyone combined. Expect him to show you off however. He loves you more than anything, and wants the world to know that.

[officialaemondtargaryen]

From Her Knees

❝either we're smoking, or we're drinking, or we're at each other's throats. ❞

Summary: You're in a toxic relationship with Aegon.

Pairing: Modern Aegon Targaryen x Unnamed Female Character (no Y/N)

Word Count: ~1.5 k

Author’s Note: This is a rewrite of an old fic for a different character, but it fits Aegon so well that I had to write it for him. I hope that you enjoy it! As always your support through a reblog or comment is appreciated!

Warnings: alcohol use, language, p in v intercourse, oral (m receiving), mentions of previous domestic abuse, they are so bad for each other.

“You don’t do anything, Aegon!”

That was true.

The words she screamed at him usually were. He knew that, of course. That’s why it pissed him off so much. She was always right and she rubbed it in his face every single time. He had been home less than an hour after the shittiest day and she was already gunning for him.

“When am I ever here?” He spat. “I’m never fucking here! And when I am here, I have to listen to you bitch, and moan, and complain, and I’m fucking sick of it!”

That was also true.

He was almost always working; bearing the cross of being his father's son, forced to live a life he despised. It was exhausting, and draining, and all he wanted to do was come home and rest for the few short hours that he had before he had to get up and do it all over again. She’d never let him, though.

“Oh, you’re sick of it? Boo-fucking-hoo, Aegon,” she threw her hands up in the air. “What are you going to do? Leave? You tried that before, remember? It didn’t work.”

She was right again. How many times had they broken up? They had probably been separated more times than they had actually been together. He broke up with her the night before over something equally as futile, and yet, here he was again.

He just couldn’t stay away.

“You’re such a fuckin’ bitch!” He yelled. “You know that?” 

Yeah, she knew. She always had been and he always knew it. Yet, he stayed, she stayed. The two couldn’t stay away from each other.

They were moths to a flame.

He threw the door open, marching outside to the balcony, cigarette already lit and beer bottle in his hand. He slammed the door behind him, but she didn’t flinch. She was used to slamming doors, used to him in her face. Their screaming fits turned into fist fights almost every single time.

“Yeah, well fuck you,” she mumbled.

She poured herself a drink, swallowing the warm liquid quickly; it burned the whole way down. His silhouette danced along half-opened blinds as he paced back and forth on the balcony. Through the thin glass of the door she could hear him talking to himself; talking himself through hypothetical arguments while waving his hands in the air as he rehearsed. She didn’t even know why she was mad anymore. That’s how it was most nights. Something so small would trigger one of them, and then one sarcastic remark after the other and they were fighting again. The only time they ever got along was when they were both drunk, high, and fucking like animals on the closest surface available.

He was contemplating leaving again. Contemplating grabbing the keys, getting in the car, and spending the night in the gutter of some bar. This relationship was toxic. It always had been. His family begged him to stay away from her; the ‘narcissistic bitch’ they called her. Told him she was no good for him and that all she did was use him for money and sex. No matter how many times he tried to tell them that wasn’t true, they still wouldn’t believe him.

She didn’t want or need money. She didn’t want or need the sex. Hell, she barely wanted him. She could do so much better, they both knew it. She was beautiful and smart, and had everything going for her. Why she was sucked into this black hole of a fling, he would never know, and at times that made him feel even worse; knowing that she- in all of her holier-than-thou attitude and narcissistic personality disorder- she was still the prize of the two of them. He was just some cubicle junkie who only amounted to anything because of his last name, not because he cared.

Not because he was good at anything.

He came back inside when he was done smoking his cigarette and feeling sorry for himself. She was sitting at the table waiting for him. That was it, that was all it took; either he left or it was going to be World War III. He knew it by that shrewd look in her eye. The one that said, ‘you say one word to me, and I’m going to hurl this bottle of Jack Daniels at your fucking head’. He pulled the keys from the counter and started making his way back towards the door.

“Where the fuck are you going?” She asked him, standing up from her seat at the table and placing her hands on her hips.

He rolled his eyes and stopped. He really, really didn’t want to argue with her. He was tired, his muscles were sore, and he was so fed up with her shit. When he turned to face her, he sighed internally. She looked so cute standing there like that. Like at any moment she could just jump on him and claw his eyes out.

He hated crazy, but he loved her crazy.

“Well?” She drew out after not getting an answer the first time.

She was really trying to start something, and Aegon was caught in a cross hair; if he answered her, they fought. If he didn’t answer her, they still fought. If he left, they’d fight when he came back. Either way, there was going to be a fight.

“I’m getting the fuck out of here!” He yelled, knowing that everyone in their apartment complex could hear him. “Away from you and you’re fuckin’ voice that’s like nails on a goddamned chalkboard.”

All he had to do was say ‘I’m leaving’. He didn’t have to add the comment about her voice. But back-handed remarks were his thing, and he really couldn’t keep his mouth shut when it really mattered.

“Oh my voice is like nails on a chalkboard, huh?” She replied. “You aren’t saying that when you’re asking me to scream for you in bed! And trust me, the only reason I would be screaming is in laughter because your dick is so fucking small!”

She was in his face now, not intimidated at all by the way his eyes darkened. His fists were balled. He had hit her before a few times, and he always felt bad about it. But Gods, she was so annoying.

“What are you going to do? Hit me?” She egged on.

He was seriously thinking about it. Shut her up for the rest of the night. She might even pack her bags and stay with someone else for a few weeks. But he couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t. Instead he grabbed her by the arms and pulled her into him, crashing his lips on to hers. It didn’t take long at all for her to wrap her legs and arms around him.

They wasted no time; Aegon pushed her up against the wall, unbuttoned his jeans, pulled her panties to the side, and spit in his hand to wet the tip of his cock before he pushed himself into her. She gasped, fistfuls of his hair. Her mouth hung open as he pounded into her, slamming her up against the wall with each thrust. Her heavy moaning in his ear only added to the built up frustration that he needed to take out on her. She nibbled at his ear lobe, sending a shiver down his spine.

“I fuckin’ hate you,” he groaned in between thrusts.

Aegon pulled out of her and forced her down to her knees, shoving his wet cock into her mouth. She sucked the taste of herself off of him with pleasure before he pulled himself out and slapped the tip against her cheek, exploding on her face. He stood there for a minute, riding out the climax as she licked the dripping seed from his shaft. Then, she looked up at him from her knees; the sticky white liquid covering her face as she smiled. 

This was why he couldn’t stay away.

She stood up, adjusting her clothes, and wiped the semen off of her face with the t-shirt she had pulled off of him. Aegon fixed his pants and plopped down on the couch.

“Grab me another beer, would you?” He asked after a yawn.

She resisted the urge to laugh out loud. “Get your own fucking beer.”

“You’re so ungrateful!” He replied.

“I’m ungrateful?” She started. “I fucking cook your meals, wash your fucking clothes, do your fucking dishes! And what do you do? Nothing!”

She suddenly realized why she was mad at him in the first place.

“Here we go again,” He replied with a groan. “For the last time, I’m never fucking here!”

[darknight3904]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕽𝖆𝖈𝖊

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ᴏᴄ! ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ / ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ /ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Longest chapter so far 2.8k :)

132 AC

The moon had disappeared behind a cloud. Her room was darker than ever as Rhaella tossed and turned beneath her covers. She had bid Rhaenrya's family farewell only half a day ago and was to depart for Highgarden in the morning. Yet, she could not find sleep. Perhaps it was her conversation with Lucerys and Jace in the library the other day. Or how Aemond seemed so hellbent on revenge for something that happened a lifetime ago. All she knew was that sleep was evading her.

The padding of footsteps and the clanking of armor passing filled her ears. The light of a torch reached it's way across her chamber from the crack under the door. Something was happening while the castle slept...Or perhaps the guards were catching Aegon slinking about, no doubt returning drunk from his ventures in Flea Bottom.

As she lay there amongst feather-stuffed pillows and silken sheets, she thought of Aemond. How he had angrily marched her back to her chamber muttering a goodnight before disappearing down the steps. He had been so distant and cold lately. Rhaella thought it might lessen once Jace and Luke were finally gone from Kings Landing but after their litter left the yard, he had turned on his heel and disappeared into the castle with nothing but a murmur on his lips.

Perhaps it was all for the best. She was going to be married before the next moon, she shouldn't remain hung up on a childhood friend. Truly, leaving whatever they had in the past was what was best for all. For herself, for Aemond, for Lord Tyrell's son whom she had yet to meet.

That being said, she couldn't help but want him. His presence, the way he smelled slightly of citrus from whatever soap he used for his baths. Before she left she was determined to see him again, the way she wanted to, not however he wanted to portray himself to her. The gloomy solitary self Aemond had painted would not be what she would remember for the rest of her days with her husband.

The stones of the castle floor were cool on her feet as she slipped into a simple pair of slippers. Perhaps Aemond would still be awake at this hour.

In her haste, she quickly zipped down the hall, only to be stopped by a whisper of her name. Aemond? Was he lurking somewhere?

"Rhaella!"

She turned to her right where Maester Edric's door greeted her.

Seven Hells, the old man was going to be the death of her.

"Yes?" She greeted, pushing his door open. She felt like she was a child again, being scolded for not wanting vegetables at dinner.

"Where are you off to now?" He asked from his bed

Maester Edric's age was catching up to him, a fact Rhaella hated. He had become immobile four moons ago and his eyes had begun to go as well. Rhaella hated that it meant he'd most likely die soon. He was too weak to travel with her to Highgarden and she feared he might die before she was able to visit again.

"Just because I cannot walk does not mean my ears are not sharp." He said

"How did you know it was me?" Rhaella asked, sitting at his side

"I only know one person who dashes about the halls like that at night. You've done it since you were a little girl. Crawling into my bed claiming a White Walker was beneath your bed or hiding in your wardrobe." He laughed

"White Walkers aren't real." Rhaella laughed

"You never know." He smiled, "Now tell me, where are you off to tonight?"

"I want to visit Aemond. He has been...troublesome recently." Rhaella said

"You spend too much time thinking of him," Edric said, waving his hand in dismissal.

"He is important to me." Rhaella sighed

"He is young. Aemond is unpredictable." Edric sighed, "Better you turn your sights on something more stable."

"Let me guess? The Tyrell I'm set to marry?" Rhaella groaned not wanting to hear anymore of him, it was all Queen Alicent talked about around her.

"I was going to suggest Sōna." He laughed, "But the Tyrells work as well."

"What about Sōna?" Rhaella asked

"You're a dragon rider. You ought to train with your dragon. The best Targaryens have always had a strong bond with their dragons. Your father is an example of it." Edric said

"My father is hardly a great Targaryen." Rhaella laughed

"Perhaps he is not a good person...But no one can deny his fierceness. He is a warrior, his bond with his dragon is one of the strongest I have ever seen." Edric smiled

Rhaella shook her head even though Edric couldn't see her. She hated it, but he was right. Daemon had always had a magnificent bond with Caraxes.

"A bond like that takes years." Rhaella sighs

"You better start soon then." Maester Edric encouraged

A loud cough interrupted whatever was going to leave his lips next. Rhaella immediately reached for the cup of water that was kept on his bedside table. She slowly tipped it back and helped him drink.

"I'll let you rest." She said, started for the door.

"Are you going back to your room?" Edric asked, "Sleep is important."

"You know me...always dashing through the halls," Rhaella said

Edric lets out an amused laugh and wipes at his face where the water trickled down the sides of his face.

"Wherever you go, be safe." He encouraged

Rhaella gently shut the door behind her, hoping the old man on the other side would truly sleep the way she wanted him to. She thought of what she originally set out to do. Aemond. He was just a few halls and a flight of steps away from her. Perhaps he'd see her, maybe he wouldn't.

"Better you turn your sights on something more stable."

Her dragon riding clothes were a bit smelly. She made a mental note to hand them off to her handmaiden tomorrow morning. The horse she had stolen away from the stables snorted loudly as she tied him off in the small stable outside the pit.

"Hush. You're alright." She soothed pulling a ripe apple from her pocket and feeding it to him

Sōna bellowed, most likely in confusion, as the keepers brought her out. Rhaella must've woken her up. Her dragon was on the lazy side, much like her mother. She had heard tales from Dragonstone that Silverwing often slept the days away.

"Lady Rhaella, are you sure you wish to fly? It is late." The keeper said, rubbing sleep from his eyes

"Yes. I will be back before dawn, do not worry." Rhaella said, reaching to climb on her dragon

"Sōvēs!"

The way the cold air whipped at her face would never grow old. Rhaella took a deep breath of the fresh air among the clouds. Here, the stench of the city couldn't reach her nose.

Sōna let out a loud trill as they flew over the Kings Wood. Rhaella looked around. What could she possibly see this late at night? A stag running through the trees? Dragons were constantly hungry...

Instead of a possible snack for her dragon, Rhaella was met with another loud bellow. However instead of Sōna making it, she looked down to see Vhagar looking up at them from a large clearing.

What the hell were they doing out here?

Rhaella's feet crunched over the dried leaves and sticks as she walked through the woods. The moon was doing a good job of providing light but Rhaella was still stumbling every few steps. Sōna let out a churn everytime she nearly lost her footing. The dragon was more nervous than Rhaella was.

"Aemond?" She called as she reached the shore of the lake where Aemond taught her to swim so many years ago

The chirps of bugs and the hoot of an owl responded. Perhaps he was not here. Could it be that Vhagar was just resting here? Perhaps Aemond was back at the castle now sleeping the night away the way Rhaella was supposed to be.

"Looks like he's not here, girl." Rhaella said turning to Sōna who looked back at her, expressionless.

The loud crashing of bushes being trampled through had Rhaella's head snapping to the right. Sōna let out a deep growl beside her, the dragon's mouth opened, her long teeth gleaming in the moonlight.

"Seven fucking hells!"

Rhaella's eyes widened when Aemond crashed through the shrubs.

"Rhaella?" He asked looking at her

Rhaella glanced over at Sōna who was already looking at her with interest. Neither of them was expecting this...

"Aemond...what are you doing?" Rhaella asked, taking in his appearance. He was disheveled, a few leaves were even stuck in his hair. Oddly enough his hair was free from its usual style, instead it was tucked behind his ears, a few strands falling free and framing his face.

"I could not sleep. I thought a flight and a walk would clear my head." Aemond explained, "I...got lost in thought and wandered off the path."

"So you were lost?" Rhaella asked, a smile pulling at her lips.

"No!" Aemond said defensively

Aemond Targaryen, master swordsman, flyer of Vhagar, prince of the city had been crashing through the woods, lost. Rhaella could feel the laughter welling up in her stomach.

"Sure you were." Rhaella laughed

"I was not." Aemond said

"You're lying," Rhaella said, even Sōna knows it. Rhaella motioned to her dragon who had decided to lie down after realizing Aemond was no threat to her rider.

"Your dragon isn't even awake." Aemond pointed out, "Much less discerning whether I am lying or not."

Sōna let out a loud snort, as if she could tell Aemond was talking about her.

"Why are you out here?" Aemond grumbled, changing the subject.

"Same as you, I could not find sleep," Rhaella explained

"Clearly we need better tactics," Aemond said, sitting down on a large rock

Rhaella laughed at his tone. This was the Aemond she had been missing. His boyish humor and sarcasm were something she had always enjoyed. She quickly closed the distance between them and sat beside him, bumping their shoulders together.

"What are you doing?" He asked

"Sitting next to you. " Rhaella explained

Aemond let out a grunt and kicked at the dirt at their feet.

Silence settled around them as Sōna's deep breaths were the only thing that reached her ears. Rhaella took in Aemond's appearance. She couldn't remember the last time she saw him with his hair down surely, it had been years. Her eyes greedily roamed his frame as she sat next to her, eyes fixed on the lake. He had been bigger than her for years now but Rhaella had never been able to get over how truly board his frame had become. He was nowhere near fat but his thin frame was clearly muscular, his broad shoulders were what truly stood out to Rhaella. Surely if she placed her hands on them, she'd be able to feel the way the muscles beneath his dragon-riding clothes tensed.

"I am sorry." Aemond's soft tone filled her ears, "For ignoring you these past weeks."

She wasn't expecting an apology from Aemond, he never apologized when they were children. Even that one time when he scared her in the middle of the night and then she walked into a door. Her nose had bled for nearly twenty minutes after that.

"I have...been upset that you are leaving for Highgarden. I guess I thought if I ignored you, the issue would vanish....I see I was wrong though." Aemond sighed, still not meeting her gaze, "And now you are leaving tomorrow and we have no good memories to look back on."

No good memories? What were the past few years then?

"Do the past years not count?" Rhaella asked

"No!" Aemond jumped "They do. I only meant...you're going to fly off tomorrow and all we've done is ignore each other."

Rhaella smiled, no matter how he grew and tried to change, Aemond was, at least with her, still the same boy she had met years ago.

"We can still make a few memories...." Rhaella grinned jumping to her feet, "Come."

Aemond watched wide-eyed as Rhaella began to shed her dragon-riding clothes. What was she doing? Secretly he hoped she didn't stop losing articles of her clothes but he knew that was wrong.

"What are you doing?" He sharply asked, catching her hand as she went to shimmy out of the ornate shirt she was wearing. The faux dragon scales that had been created from fabric glistened on her chest under the moon.

"Remember when you taught me to swim here?" Rhaella asked

"I tried to," Aemond said surveying the area thinking back to the day he plotted to murder a duck for food before Rhaella stopped him. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

"Tired to." Rhaella smiled, "Let's have another lesson."

Aemond swam out to where Rhaella was already struggling in the water.

"Relax." He said, gently placing his hand on her shoulder.

He tried to ignore the way her chemise was clinging to her in the water. Surely it had been like this last time. Had he just not noticed? How foolish of him, to ignore the way the wet fabric made her look. It was positively sinful.

"I am relaxed." Rhaella defended, a gulp of water invading her mouth.

"You're about to swallow half the lake." Aemond said, "Watch me."

He slowly moved his limbs in unison, hoping she could see the way he was moving. A simple breaststroke surely wasn't too hard for Rhaella and her lack of skill.

Aemond found himself smiling when she swam towards him, copying his movements.

"I'm doing it!" She smiled when she reached him

"Not bad." He said

"Would it kill you to compliment me?" Rhaella groaned beside him, treading water so she remained afloat.

"It would, in fact." Aemond laughed

"You are truly terrible." Rhaella declared, flicking a bit of water onto his face. most of it hit his eyepatch and dripped off into the lake.

"Do you ever take it off?" Rhaella asked

"What?" He asked, pretending to be clueless

"The eye patch. I know you have a sapphire below it but I do not recall ever seeing it." Rhaella said, swimming so close that their noses brushed

"It's not a sight you want to see." Aemond said thinking of the ugly flesh below the leather on his face.

"I'll be the judge of that." Rhaella said

Before he could protest, she reached for his face and pulled it off his face.

"Rhaella!" He gasped reaching for it with his head pointed down.

"Come get it!" Rhaella called swimming off

He never should have taught her how to swim.

Aemond chased her into shallow waters where they both could stand. Rhaella was laughing when he finally got close to her. He let out a curse when she evaded him again. Since when was she so fast? All that fabric from her small clothes should be weighing her down.

He caught her off guard by quickly catching her by the waist. His face heated up even as the cool water lapped at their skin when he felt Rhaella's legs wrap around his waist. Did she truly not realize what she was doing?

"Give it here." He said

"Look at me first." Rhaella said

He reluctantly turned his head. He hoped she wasn't too scared, he was enjoying this proximity, the way her body was pressed to him was driving him mad.

Rhaella examined Aemond's face. The sapphire was gleaming in the moonlight and only seemed to shine brighter in contrast with Aemond's silver hair and milky skin.

"Has anyone ever told you how good-looking you are?" Rhaella asked, in awe of her friend's features.

Aemond scoffed, pulling the eyepatch from her hand and slipping it back on.

"I don't need you to lie to me." He said

"I'm not lying," Rhaella said, placing her hands on those shoulders she had been thinking about earlier. She had been right, you could feel the way the muscles below the skin tensed with each movement.

"We should fly back. Dawn is coming." Aemond said quietly, his face slightly red

"Just...one more minute." Rhaella said, resting her head in the crook of Aemond's neck, "I don't want to leave yet."

Cool water lapped around them as the moonlight faded away. A minute passed, and then two, and then many. Aemond was not sure how long they stayed there, water up to their chins as Rhaella drove him mad with her closeness. All he knew was that he never wanted this moment to end.

Next Part

The dance is looming...Aemond and Rhaella are you ready??? (They are not ready)

Also uh idk what happened but this part posted twice and the second time it posted it only posted half of it?? Tumblr is on something.

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[adverbally]

I Can See Our Days Are Becoming Night

Written for the @steddieangstyaugust prompt “Tomorrow” | wc: 1,064 | rated: T | cw: none | tags: pining, friends to something more than friends but not quite lovers | title from “I Still Remember” by Bloc Party

———

They spend a painful summer together that shifts into a relaxed autumn and a cozy winter and a beautiful spring.

It’s one of those days where the sun has started to feel warm again instead of just bright, where the days are getting longer and lazier and they start to feel like they’re promising something.

Steve takes Eddie to a clearing not far from the creek, where they wrestle each other like little kids and talk for hours while they munch on the sandwiches and chips Steve had packed for them. When they wade into the shallow water, it’s still chilly but it feels amazing on their hot skin, even when they take turns kicking waves at each other and soaking their clothes.

Eddie tries not to look too hard when Steve shucks off his t-shirt and shorts, laying them out on a rock to dry. It’s more difficult when Steve sprawls on the grass in his underwear. Smooth tanned skin against a shock of new green growth, spotted with freckles and pebbles and bugs and dark hair. Steve lies there silently, eyes closed, hands cushioning the back of his head against the ground, and he’s the most beautiful thing Eddie has ever seen.

Eddie is terrified.

It was one thing to have a crush on Steve last summer. He was the one keeping Eddie company when Wayne was at work, nursing him back to health with homecooked meals and physical therapy exercises and bitchy commentary as they watched TV together late into the night when neither of them could sleep. This was the Steve Harrington Eddie had heard so much about but never seen, and he was smitten.

But as they actually became friends rather than trauma-bonded acquaintances, it felt too weird. Eddie couldn’t be in love with his straight best friend. He wouldn’t risk their current relationship just to be rejected. He wouldn’t chase Steve away by being too much. When Steve started working longer hours, it was a blessing in disguise: it would allow Eddie to share Steve’s valuable free time with the party, rather than continuing to hang out one-on-one, and let any romantic feelings fade away.

It actually worked for a while, until the cold and darkness took hold and brought Steve back to the terrors of Novembers past. Halloween’s arrival seemed to change Steve overnight, leaving him pale and absent-minded, with dark circles ringing his eyes and a jumpiness he hadn’t displayed since March. He spent more time at the Munsons’ new place, refusing to stay by himself in the big empty house his parents couldn’t even be bothered to visit. It was all too easy for Eddie to welcome Steve into his bed and curl up with him under thick quilts to ward off the nightmares.

Even as they barely touched, they became closer than ever as Steve’s layers peeled away, his fears and dreams laid bare in the warmth under the blankets. Eddie tried to share what he could, unwilling to leave Steve alone in his vulnerability, but mostly he listened to the hushed confessions Steve would never share with anyone else, too afraid of appearing weak or worrying the people who cared about him. This was the real Steve, he thought, the Steve very few people knew. Eddie knew, though, and the knowledge haunted him as much as it thrilled him.

By the time the woods started defrosting and the birds began to sing again, Eddie was head over heels in love. The silly summer crush hadn’t died, it had merely hibernated through the cold seasons, deepening its roots in Eddie’s guts until the days warmed enough for it to blossom anew. And blossom it did, just like Steve turning his face to the sun until he seems to glow from within, leaving him exhausted but happy in the grass beside the creek.

Eddie watches as Steve hums to himself, eyes squinting shut against the brightness of the afternoon. Strong brow, perfectly pointed nose, full lips, freckled jaw. Hair in disarray from their horseplay, drying at strange angles across his forehead and around his neck. Chest bare except for the thick hair there, subtle musculature, the long lean lines of him spread out for Eddie’s eyes alone…

When he glances back to Steve’s face, his eyes are open again and crinkling with the force of his smile. “Having fun?” Steve asks, a little teasing.

Eddie’s heart pounds but he smiles back. “Yeah, just tired. I must’ve zoned out.”

“Come here and recharge, then.” Steve pats the ground next to him. “Plenty of room.”

It’s easy to lie down beside Steve and stare up at the bright blue sky. Their feet keep brushing as Eddie fidgets, rotating his ankles to let out some of the nervous energy buzzing beneath his skin.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Steve says. “I think I needed this.”

“Yeah, anytime.” When Eddie turns his head to see Steve’s expression, Steve is already facing him, his hazel eyes soft and glowing gold in the light. Eddie has never wanted to kiss anyone more than he does right now, here in the grass with Steve looking at him and their toes touching and his skin itching with the beginnings of a sunburn.

He should kiss him, he thinks. He should kiss him and feel his warm skin under his hands and the thud of his heartbeat in his chest and the strength of him when he touches him back. Here by the water, Eddie wishes he could be brave enough to find out if Steve loves him, too.

But no. He can’t just assume Steve feels the same, even if Steve’s touches linger a little too long and his eyes catch on Eddie’s mouth when he talks. He should let Steve make the first move so Eddie doesn’t make him uncomfortable.

For a minute, it seems like Steve might do it. He rolls onto his side and props himself up on one elbow, so close that Eddie can almost count his eyelashes. His chin dips thoughtfully and he looks at Eddie with such intensity that goosebumps spring up along Eddie’s arms.

Then he says, “C’mon, I’ll buy you ice cream on the way back into town.”

Eddie watches him clamber to his feet and slip on his still-damp clothes. Tomorrow, he decides as he follows him to the car. He’ll tell Steve tomorrow.

[millersamour]

different devils (series prologue) - joel miller x f!reader

“We’re all in the same game; just different levels. Dealing with the same hell; just different devils.”

Word Count: 3.2k

Pairing: joel miller x f!reader

Series Summary: You're one of Jackson's longest, and most reclusive inhabitants. You're Tommy's patrol partner. You raised an adopted son. Now spending every day doing what you can to keep the devil at bay. Until Joel Miller shows up, with a fourteen year old, and the same kind of demons.

(collage made on pinterest)

Series Warnings: set during outbreak, violence, descriptions of body mutilation, use of weapons, reader is 21 in prologue but 34 in main story, age gap (joel is 56), eventual smut (will tag accordingly), darkish! joel, reader is also a violent survivalist, reader has a similar joel/ellie dynamic with an oc!, raider/cult subplot, typical disturbing stuff in media about zombies/apocalypse situations

Prologue Summary: After nine years of surviving the apocalypse you meet some people who offer you the chance to start over.

A/N: straight up no joel in this :/ sorry lol, this is just character plot because i love angst and slow burn!!!! we support traumatized morally grey fmcs in this house <3

-

Prologue

March 2011 

You had been tracking a doe for about an hour when you heard the sounds. Deep gurgling and clicking echoing from somewhere you couldn’t see. 

Fuck. 

The deer seemed like a lost cause if there were any more than a single one of those unforgiving creatures lurking nearby. 

With one last glance to the deer, its light brown fur shining in the morning sun, you tucked the bow underneath the thick leather strap of the quiver at your back and made quick work of climbing a thick tree.

You watched the creature below from about twenty feet in the air. The deformed body weaving between the trees, dragging its feet through the wet vegetation. Growths emerging from its skull covered any trace of its former humanity. Bright fungi absorbing the very idea that this thing had ever bore resemblance to a person. The bow in your grasp followed its movements as it veered left, and thankfully, away from your campsite. 

Not wasting any arrows today.

With a sigh of relief, which sounded more like a huff of annoyance, you surveyed the area a final time before deciding to make your way back to Leon. You dismounted the tree, landing the last few feet with a thud and took off back into the thicket. 

Rope and sticks had been used to hold up what had once been a tarp, now just a small sheet of plastic, to create a makeshift tent. It was completely useless against the cold but it had kept you dry from the torrential downpour that had plagued your travel the last few days. The first signs of spring were always welcome after months of cold and snow, but you couldn’t deny the pang of guilt you felt after surviving another winter. 

Leon was awake now, nursing a small fire. He grinned as he watched your form emerge from the treeline. The early morning gave you a respite, where it could just be you and Leon. Not what you had become part of. 

“Anything good?” He asked, eyes trailing from your face to glance at your empty hands. 

“No” You shook your head. “Damn clicker came outta nowhere and spooked the deer I spent an hour tracking” You huffed, slumping beside him. 

Grimacing, he handed you a thermos and you sipped. Warm water flooded your mouth and sternum as it landed in your empty stomach. You hummed, savouring the temporary warmth and handed it back to him. He pulled a small bunch of cloth from his backpack and you grimaced at the only remnants of food you had left.

It had been almost six months since you and Leon had been on your own and almost a full two years since you’d left the QZ.

-

You had only been twelve on outbreak day. But you could recall those memories like it had been yesterday. Stepping off the school bus, doing homework, and eating dinner with your parents, before heading off to bed. You remembered the soft pink of your bedroom. The quilt at the foot of your bed. The toy rabbit you’d slept with since you were born. 

But the sounds of alarms and glass shattering and screams had woken you. 1:02 AM flashing bright green on your alarm clock. You had crept downstairs. The noises outside drowned out by the fear of what would be waiting for you. 

Standing at the bottom of the stairs, you saw the pool of blood first. Crimson leaking into the cracks of blue kitchen tiles, staining the grout. You had hesitated before entering, not knowing what you would see once you turned the corner and passed the door frame. 

Her hair was splayed on the floor like a halo. Strands matted with blood. Her body, stiff in death, looked like she had been knocked back, like someone had shoved her. Peeking around the corner, you saw a huddled form leaning against the fridge; its white exterior marked with streaks of red, fingerprints smeared across family photos and a drawing you had made for your father’s birthday.

Quietly you had called out.

 “Dad?”

The hunched form had looked up at the sound, neck craning in an unnatural way. Strained breathing, like someone was trying to speak with lungs full of water, and growling sounds punched passed his lips. Sounds you had only ever heard in nature documentaries, sounds of pained and hungry animals who relied on teeth and claws and blood to survive.

Suddenly everything was happening to someone else. Like you were watching your life unravel from someone else’s eyes. 

It wasn’t you when your dad slowly rose to his full height, his hands and mouth covered in your mother’s blood. It wasn’t you when he lunged forward, hands reaching for your small form. It wasn’t you who ran away, taking the stairs two at a time while he slipped in what was left of your mother; still warm. It wasn’t you who had thrown open your parent’s bedroom door, slamming it behind you. Who had searched in the dark, for salvation, for safety, for something that could keep the monster at bay. 

The banging on the door was only getting louder, and you had hoped this was all some kind of nightmare. The kind where you woke up crying and your mother would be there to stroke your hair and sing until you drifted back into a peaceful slumber. 

But it was real and you had found the bat that your dad had kept stuffed in the closet.

Your small fingers clenched around the handle and you struggled to keep yourself upright. The image of your mother, her soft skin and dimpled smile flashed against the images of her broken body, of her abdomen peeled open. You could still hear the strangled breathing of the creature outside the door. 

No longer your father, only wearing his face. 

You pushed your back against the wall, feeling the reverberations through the wall as he slammed his body against wood. It was cracking and wouldn’t hold for long. 

It wasn’t you who had watched the door splinter. Who watched him shove his mangled form through. Left shoulder broken. Arm dangling loosely at his side. It wasn’t you who struggled to slow your breathing as his unseeing eyes stared into the darkness, streetlights peeking through the blinds to illuminate his grisly appearance. But it had been you. It had been you who had clenched her jaw, teeth grinding against teeth. Tightening your grip and stepping behind him as he wandered into the center of the room. It was you who heard the floorboard creak and had raised the bat before he even turned around. It was you who had swung and swung and swung. Until what had been your father no longer was. 

Just a bloodied heap on the ground. 

You had been found a few days later, hiding in your closet. Bat sticky with dried blood, still clenched in your hands. They had taken you, kicking and screaming, to what would become the Phoenix QZ, and your home for the next eight years. 

-

Movement startled you from the memories you pondered often, trying to conjure images of birthday parties and the photographs that lined your childhood home. But, all you were left with was the weight of two corpses and the shame of survival.

 Andy came through the tree line. His blonde hair stuck to his forehead and his smile bordered on feral. You had to stand to see what he was holding in his hand. 

Rabbits. 

“Little early for your ass to be up, isn’t it?” You chuckled, walking over to examine his prize.

“Early bird gets the worm” He grinned, holding the rabbits higher up. “Just taking a page from your book” 

He wasn’t wrong. In the last six months, you had been almost solely providing food for the four of you. Feeding Leon had been no problem, it was something you’d been doing for the last five years. But, Andy and his brother, Warren, hadn’t been pulling their weight. And you often had to remind them that they begged for your help and you had offered it to them, if they helped keep Leon alive. 

The commotion must have alerted Warren, because the older brother emerged from his own makeshift shelter. 

It had been a while since you’d caught anything substantial. Relying mostly on birds, fish, and other small wildlife to feed yourselves. But with spring slowly making its appearance, you knew there would be animals everywhere in the coming weeks. 

But rabbits, especially three of them, were enough to excite the four of you. Grinning at each other for the first time in weeks. 

Andy and Warren were whopping, hollering expletives in excitement. You moved to grab Andy’s arm, needing to shut them both up. But movement to your left had you throwing yourself out of the way.

The clicker. 

Fuck. 

You should’ve killed that stupid fucking thing when you had the chance. It was on Andy before you even had the opportunity to scream. It grabbed at his chest, seeking grip wherever it could find, and sank its teeth into the skin of his throat. They fell forwards together, limbs tangling together, wrestling for purchase. 

Warren came from behind, the branch in his hands colliding with the side of the monster’s head, sending it flying off of Andy. He slammed the wood into its skull, watching as it twitched and went limp against the wet ground. 

Andy lay on the ground, clutching his chest and reaching towards his neck. His eyes locked with yours. Panic stricken, wild. You knew that he was dead. They all were. As soon as one of those things got a decent grip, it was over. But that didn’t mean it was okay. It had been almost nine years, and everyone still fought like hell against the inevitable. 

Warren was crouched beside his brother, trying to stop the bleeding. He pulled off his own shirt and you winced, seeing the scars that littered his back. The same ones on both Leon and yourself.

With a hand on your bow, you pulled an arrow from your back and gently nudged Warren’s foot with your own before taking a step back.

“Warren” You warned, your voice low.

He jolted, eyes leaving his brother to meet yours, glancing between your face and the weapon in your hands. His hands pushing wet, bloody fabric into his brother’s wounds.

“I..I can’t… what?” 

“We have to do it and leave” You glanced over your shoulder at Leon, who had stepped further back, watching with a frantic gaze. “We can’t stay here. Warren, none of this is fucking easy, but Andy’s gone.” 

The older man, only twenty-three himself, looked back towards his brother. Andy’s breathing was shallow, ragged. He had already lost so much blood.

It never took long. 

Warren’s body shook as he sobbed, as he understood what you meant. You had to put Andy down, and you had to do it quickly. But his shoulders slumped and he shook his head. 

“Warren..” You warned again. “You need to step away from him..”

He huffed, breathy and wet, and crawled away from the fading remnant of his younger brother. You didn’t have to look to know that Leon was gone, probably behind a tree, hands over his ears. It was the plan. When shit hits the fan, get low and stay low. Until you call it clear.

You sighed, stringing the bow. You aimed, closed your eyes, released a quiet breath and let go. 

Andy lay limp on the ground and you hoped that wherever he ended up, it was better than this. 

Shaking your head, you whistled your signal to Leon and set your bow against a stump. The teenager came peeking out and your heart clenched at the tear tracks carving through the dirt on his face. 

“Look out!” He screamed suddenly, eyes flicking behind you. 

Before you could even register, the side of your body made contact with the ground. Looking up you saw Warren, huffing, eyes red rimmed. He held the branch again. You threw up your arms, ready to deflect the fatal blow, but it never came. 

The deep cut of a shotgun rang out through the air. And you caught the way Warren’s eyes widened and then rolled to the back of his head before he slumped to the ground beside you. Scrambling, you sprang to your feet and launched yourself towards Leon.

“Easy there little lady” an unknown voice spoke up, shotgun in hand. “I’m not gonna hurt’cha, I just need you to put your hands up”

The sound stopped you in your tracks. You could see Leon with his arms already in the air. 

Another rule: do everything you can to not get shot. Smart kid. 

You twirled back towards the man with a smirk. 

“You just killed my buddy there, not sure if I should trust you” 

The man with the gun tilted his head slightly, confused, but kept his gun trained on your form. He was older, probably mid fifties, with dark skin and dark hair that was peppered with greys.

“He was going to kill you” It came out unsure. He was right, but why?

“Occupational hazard?” You quipped back. 

He sighed and looked over his shoulder. Fuck. You were hoping you could distract him long enough to either get the gun, or at least to get Leon out of here. But if anyone else showed up, you were screwed.

“Maria!” He called out. “Over here!”

A woman came from behind him, presumably Maria. Her eyes widened at the sight. The clicker, Andy and Warren, Leon and yourself. You were almost twenty-one, but the hunger made you look closer to Leon’s age, only fourteen himself. 

Maria tapped the man on the shoulder and jerked her head, needing to speak to him. He nodded and refocused his gaze on you. 

“Don’t. Fucking. Move.” He grunted. 

You nodded, looking back at Leon and offering a small smile. They didn’t seem like raiders, or slavers. They looked clean and well fed. They didn’t look FEDRA either, but you weren’t about to test the limits of their mercy. Either way, they would either kill you or they wouldn’t. For Leon’s sake, you hoped whatever happened, if it came to it, it would be quick. 

They spoke a few feet away, glancing back towards the two of you every couple seconds. The man struggled to force his gaze away, turning back to the woman and grimacing at the words coming out of her mouth.

“Maria-” He went to grab her arm but she slinked away and came to stand before you. 

She offered her hand. You hesitantly accepted, coating her fingers in dirt and blood. She barely spared it a glance before rubbing it into the denim of her thigh. 

She smiled gently. “I’m Maria, that’s Elton” She said, motioning to the larger man behind her. She seemed tough. You felt more comfortable under her gaze, more than anyone who had looked at you in the last two years. 

You offered your name and turned towards the younger boy. “That’s Leon” You motioned for him to come over.

He took a few hesitant steps before lacing his fingers through yours and reaching his other hand towards Maria. She took his hand, shaking it. Anyone else could have missed it, but a flicker of something, maybe longing, passed over her face when she locked eyes with Leon. 

“Are you related?” Came from Elton. 

Leon’s hair was lighter than yours and his features were still coated in a thin layer of baby fat. So, most people believed that he was your brother, half at least, and you never corrected them. But, something in Maria’s eyes and the way she watched you, made you want to be honest. You shook your head.

“Known him since he was eight, been taking care of him ever since” You didn’t often talk about Leon’s biological family. They were FEDRA officials, but when rations started dwindling a few years after the outbreak, they didn’t hesitate to drop the youngest of their children off on the steps of the QZ’s orphanage. Where you had been for the last three years. 

“How old are you?” Maria asked, glancing between the two of you. 

“I’m fourteen” Leon blurted, looking up at you with wide eyes. You squeezed his hand twice. A signal you had first used in the orphanage, after you’d been beaten for stealing or for lying. Leon would sit beside you and read, occasionally squeezing your hand. You’d squeeze back twice if you wanted him to keep reading, three times if something was wrong.

“I’m twenty-one” You speak, not meeting Maria’s eyes. 

“What are you doing out here?” Elton’s voice came over Maria’s shoulders again, kinder. You realized that the two of them had to be related. Father and daughter maybe?

“It’s a really long story” You try, unsure of how to explain the last decade of your lives.

“Give us the short version” Maria tries, placing her hand on your shoulder.

“We..um..we escaped raiders before the winter…” You fumble. Yes you had been with raiders, not exactly prisoners, but these two didn’t need to know that. Not yet. Maria’s eyes softened and she looked back at Elton, who’s face betrayed him at that moment. You could tell he was confused. Not many people survived the winter the way you had done. 

“You’ve been living out here?” He asked, glancing between the makeshift shelters and your bow, the only real weapon you had. 

You nodded. “Here and there, I tried not to stay in one place too long…” 

They both nodded, movement was essential. Unless you had the means to defend yourself and your camp, it was better to stay out of the way. You’d learned that when the Phoenix QZ tore itself down. 

“Where are you from?” The question came from Leon. You know that he noticed their clothing, their guns, the way they seemed sated and well-fed. Leon always noticed details, things that a lot of other kids deemed unnecessary. 

“We come from a community”

“A QZ?”

Elton laughed at that. “Jackson’s not like a QZ. Sure we got walls and jobs, but ain’t nothin like one of those prisons” 

“Jackson?” It was your turn to ask a question.

Maria nodded. “We’re a community that helps each other out and keeps each other alive. As long as you earn your keep and stay out of trouble. You could come back with us.”

“And we should trust you? Why?” You had reason to be defensive, to be unsure of what these strangers were promising. 

“You’ll just have to find out.” Maria smiled, looking back towards Elton.

For the first time in a while, you felt something like hope. That you had survived the last year for a reason. That Leon could finally have a real home.

“Take us there” 

You felt Leon’s grip tighten. You squeezed back twice.

-

Thanks for reading!! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed <3

[heartfullofleeches]

Small thing with Yan Vampire Harem/ill-tempered Maid Reader

Working quietly, you make your way to the backdoor to enjoy your break in peace. Regardless of your supposed freedom during the time, you were often roped into spending it subjected to the care of your masters as thanks for all you've done. It'd be more welcomed had they not been doing plenty of that during your shift as well. You'd grown some semblance to it by now and would have mostly succumb to their begging had it not been for the guest waiting for you outside.

You ease the door open, but a foot jams it shut halfway. A smirk is pressed to your spine as hands creep to your waist; an all too familiar laugh ringing in your ear.

"Hm.. Good Afternoon to you too, dearest . And where might you have been going without telling your dear caretakers?"

You pull your shoulder from their barrage of kisses. "Outside."

The vampire huffs. "So crass. Why go outside when you can enjoy a nice meal with us all here? There's so much preparation to be done for us to join you out there. It's not fair."

"That's the point. Look, if you let me go out now, I'll think about sleeping in your coffin tonight."

The vampire chuckles. "Deal." They kiss your cheek, sneaking a lick before they slip back into the shadows of the room. You hurry outside before anyone else comes, pulling the door close as gently as possible.

The garden is quiet at this time of day, as it is during all hours till dusk. You and the other servents tend to them daily, but you are the only one who has access to it at all times. It's a combination of the rules being bent towards your favor, and their love for taking you out on a nightly stroll every once in a blue moon.

You stroll on by the fountain. By the rose bushes and bundles of blooming plant life in favor of a group of shrubs by the farther wall. Their leaves wilt and roots separate by past force, giving a clear look into the outside forest on most days. On this, a pair of golden eyes block your sight from the world you once knew.

"I told you not to come anymore, didn't I?" You tone is lax as you reach out and touch the snout of the beast. It rubs its nose against the pad of your hand with a small whine as verbal sign of its stubbornness. Ignoring its protesting sounds as you pull away, you dig around in your satchel until your hand fall on a the smushed paper bag. You take the sandwich from its casing; a note pinned to the plastic around it.

"Have a good day! I hope it treats you well. Please come visit me well. Love you - A"

A took care of most of your meals. It was apparently their only talent and slightly more welcomed than the love letters and music pieces you received. You felt a little guilty for not remembering their name, but as far as you could recall no one here had one that started with it. Pushing the thought out of mind, you slip the note in your pocket; your companion growling in response.

"You don't have to rush me. Here." You hand the unwrapped meal to the animal who snaps it their jaws; your fingers christened by the wind beneath the force of its bite. You pet it as it eats, leaning against the stone wall. You came across the animal not even a month ago. Pruning the same bushes it hid beneath was how you found it. You offered it a spare tomato and the following day you heard its whimpers again. You never saw more than its luminous eyes and shaggy fur, but figured it to be some kind of canine. It shifts around beneath your touch; a gesture gone unnoticed as you heed to the cheerful calls from across the field.

"Y/n! There you are!"

Umbrellas overhead, two hooded figures march your way. Twins, those who never left each others side and tries always to be by yours. Others knew when to distance themselves, but these two were persistent. You remain still; expecting the animal to run off, but its still there.

The pair stop in front of you as the first speaks. "What are you doing out here all by yourself?"

You hold up the empty paper bag. "Eating."

"Let us know next time, we've been looking all over for you." The other speaks. "Honestly, I don't get what the big deal is about this place. It's far too bright and it smells like a mutt out here."

"A mutt? Now that you mentioned it- it doesn't, but worse. It's almost like a..."

"Get away from that thing."

The twins express various sounds of surpise as a voice speaks from other their shoulders. You're caught off guard as well, as you never see this one outside of rare visits. The Count stares past you and at the bush, clearly on edge. Neutral as ever, you remain in place.

"It's just a wolf and it's harmless. I've fed it for a while and nothing's happened."

"That's not a dog- Y/n, move-"

Before the warning could come, you're suddenly off the ground. Legs swinging in the air, you look down to see two thick limbs caged around you. The creature holds you to its furred chest; claws dangerously close to your neck as it smushes its cheek to yours. The werewolf lets out a soft whine as it licks your jaw.

As the twins scream, you can't help but feel a little gullible for not realizing this sooner. "Honestly should have expected this by now."

The rest of the afternoon is somewhat of a blur. Your masters attempt to get rid of the beast, but there's not much they could do with it carrying you around. It listens to you at some degree as you're able to get it to bring you inside the mansion, but refuses to let you go. They begrudgingly give you the night off until they could find a solution to your new pet.

[angry-geese]

Sea, Swallow Me

Satoru Gojo x Reader

Warnings: not OSHA compliant. hurt/comfort, light angst, ex-husband Gojo. angry/hate sex, unprotected sex, oral (cunnilingus), fingering.

Synopsis: some ex-husband Gojo smut except him and the reader are still totally in love with each other >:)

a/n: this has been rattling around in my drafts since like march and I finally got my thoughts gathered enough to write it out lol

Word Count: 4.7k

jjk masterlist

Outside, the sky grows dark, signaling an incoming storm. The weather report called for it yesterday; off and on thunderstorms all night, and well into this afternoon. Not uncommon for this time of year. This morning’s grocery trip was one made with the hope of being back before another downpour started, and from the looks of it, you were successful.

Typically, when you come home, the cat is the first thing to greet you. Today, even after she hears your keys hit the counter, she remains just out of view. You don't mind it so much, even if you do find it odd. It gives you time to put away groceries, and the treats you bought for her without her begging for anything. 

The foul weather makes it as good a day as any to spend inside. Plenty of chores need to be done around your apartment, as work has begun to consume much of your free time. That’s nothing new. Certain times of the year are busier than others at Jujutsu Tech. It certainly doesn't help that two people are out due to injuries, and another is on maternity leave, meaning you’re on call nearly 24/7. 

The cat makes herself known only after she hears a can of food open, chirping as she trots into the kitchen. She stays long enough to finish eating, and get some pets from you, before settling into her spot on the window sill, intently watching leaves being blown around outside. You settle on preparing dinner: thawing meat, and chopping veggies for a soup that’ll take nearly an hour to simmer. 

A noise from the other room draws your attention; in the living room, the TV is on—something you vividly remember shutting off. A drama was playing, but the lead was giving you such bad second-hand embarrassment that you just had to shut it off.

Maybe you really are starting to lose it. 

You’ve seen it happen to others. The stress of the job—this way of life—gets to some. You could chalk it up to forgetting; maybe the cat stepped on the remote, or maybe you really did just forget. Come to think of it, didn't you turn off the lights in the kitchen before leaving too?

The back of your neck prickles with fear. Did someone really break in? You know this isn't a particularly nice part of town, but the chance of that happening is unlikely. Besides, there is no sign of forced entry. It's just a feeling of being watched. Nothing is missing, just some lights are on, and the books on your coffee table have been moved around, as if someone looked through them. Why go through the trouble then?

Nothing in particular tips you off to the presence behind you. It comes suddenly, and without warning. Fight or flight kicks in. With your elbow and wrist parallel to your collarbone, you swing outwards.

Any normal person's elbow would have been shattered by that hit. Satoru blocks it with little effort. He uses the weight of your movement against you, allowing you to fall against him. It doesn't take much time for you to realize what he’s doing, and shove yourself away from him.

“You broke in?” You say, although your voice doesn't carry any surprise. “I gotta admit, Satoru, that's a new low.”

“Technically I didn't,” he says, “I explained to the guy up front that I was your husband and he let me in.”

Internally, you curse your landlord, a sweet old man by the name of Saito. He was one of the few people who would let you move in on such short notice. This was never meant to be a permanent placement, but you suppose you don't have much to complain about here. It's an older building, but maintenance is consistent, and the interior has been completely redone. Your neighbors are quiet, pleasant people, and this is a nice corner of the neighborhood. Not nearly as luxe as your previous home, but not bad either.

As he sits down on the couch, the cat jumps straight into his lap. You know it's not fair to project human emotions onto her. She's just a cat. But you swear you see a smug little look on her face. She chirps, and bumps her head against his hand, purring loud enough it's audible across the room. 

“I think I would have rather dealt with a house robber,” you say.

“I mean, if you're into that kind of thing,” he says, “I can put the mask back on. We'll roleplay…”

“Absolutely not,” you say, snatching the remote for the tv, switching it off, “what do you want?”

Even sitting, he’s nearly eye-level with you. His hand comes up to tug at the silver chain around his neck. You don't know whether to feel angry, or sorry for him. Gojo is almost pathetic enough that you feel bad for him. Almost. 

“What?” He asks, feigning hurt. “I can't drop in to say hello to my lovely wife?”

“Ex-wife,” you say. 

Despite your current irritation with him, the separation was about as amicable as it could be. Although it’s not official in the legal sense yet, the two of you have been living separately for months now. There was no great turning moment in your relationship, just a lifetime of little things that forced a wedge between you two. These things happen. You were young when you married, and so consumed with grief that perhaps there wasn't enough thought put into it. You don't blame yourself for it, or for anything that happened. At the age of eighteen, you had a skewed view of the world. Mistakes were common at that age. That’s just part of growing up. You were young, and every emotion felt so much more potent back then. It felt right at the time. Hell, it was right.

Maybe you still love him. It’s hard to spend so much time with someone—have so many memories with them—and not love them.

“Tsumiki has a game Saturday,” he says, “you coming?”

You're slightly offended at the suggestion you would miss it. She sent you a text about it nearly a week ago. You swore to her you'd make it, even going as far as to make arrangements to leave work early.

“Of course I am.” You say. “I’ll take her—I’m off work early anyway.”

It's better for the kids that you remain an active part in their life. Megumi and Tsumiki have already dealt with so much upheaval in their life. It's cruel enough that one caregiver left them, but two? 

You tell yourself you couldn't do that to them. That alone was enough to get you to stay in your old apartment for a few more months. By then, the kids knew something was up. They're smarter than people give them credit for, and there's only so many excuses you can make for sleeping in separate rooms.

It's been maybe a year since then. Six months since you moved out. You wouldn't call it easy, but you’ve settled into your new routine quite nicely.

“Great,” he says, “why not go together then? I’ll drive. We can get dinner together afterwards.”

Your mouth opens in protest. Although it’s phrased as a question, you know him better than that. Satoru will do everything to weasel his way into this situation. Your barely-pleasant expression sours entirely.

“No, thank you,” you say, gesturing to the door, “now get out of my house.”

“Don't be like that, baby,” he says. His arms stretch out towards you, and you immediately dart out of their path. 

“I hated you calling me that when we were married,” you say, “what makes you think I’ve changed?”

“You haven't.” He says. “That’s why I’m still here.”

Within the air here hangs a rift that time won't heal. This room—this space—is too emotionally charged for you to think straight. Your head spins, clouded with anger and spite.

“Don't tell me you left the kids alone to come bother me?” You say.

Tsumiki is nearly fifteen, and pretty independent, but you don't like leaving the kids alone any longer than you have to.

“Of course not,” he says, almost looking offended, “Tsumiki is off at a sleepover, and I got your mother to watch Megs for the weekend.”

“You what?!” 

A look of shock and betrayal crosses your face. You love your mother dearly, really, but sometimes she can be a bit… much. Early on into your marriage, she was asking when you were going to have children of your own. Being freshly twenty at the time, your answer to her was simple: never. Megumi and Tsumiki were enough. You wanted to be able to devote your time—and attention—to them, not a newborn. 

Satoru catches you in your moment of shock, his arms snaking around your waist. Your hands plant on his wrists to shove them away, yet you stop yourself. 

The sound of your phone ringing in the other room gives you a reason to escape. You free his arms from your waist, heading into the bedroom. You don't hear him get up to follow you, yet you know he does. Sitting on the table beside your bed, still charging, is your phone. It’s Tsumiki. You only glance at your phone long enough to see her name, not what she’s saying. 

The end of the bed dips under his weight as he sits. He tries his best to be covert about it, but you feel his gaze wandering around the room. From the photos on the wall, to the papers on your desk, to the stuffed animals on your bed. Oh, you can hear his snide comments now.

“Those earrings are new,” he says. And you swear you hear a slight tone of disappointment in his voice. “Pretty.”

Goosebumps rise along your arm as he reaches out to feel it, brushing across your shoulder in the process. Crystals, although they may be glass, cut to look like gems, dangling from your ears. They’re blue in color; not a light slate, but a deep cerulean. Subtle enough that they’re rather unnoticeable from a distance.

“Shoko gave them to me,” you say.

She took pity on you once she found out about the divorce. Maybe she felt partially responsible, seeing as she was the one who introduced you two.

Getting sent off to the religious boarding school known as Jujutsu Technical college was a major blow to your teenage social life. At fifteen, all you wanted was to go to a normal high school with your normal friends. Yet you weren't granted such a luxury, and instead were thrown into a world you knew nothing about. You quickly found solace, and a strange kind of companionship in the girl that smoked behind the school: Ieiri Shoko.

If you didn't end up marrying him, you probably would have married her. 

For you, it wasn't love at first sight. You could barely stand him in the beginning. It was a rivalry that slowly turned into friendship, ending in romance, albeit with much prodding from Suguru and Shoko. Teenage love consumed the two of you harshly, and entirely.

It wouldn't be until years later, after the wedding, when you would find out they bet on it.

You don't push him away when he kisses you. Just a peck, nothing more. Like you’re teenagers, exchanging affections in the stairwell between classes. When the higher ups would get upset at you, not him, because he was the strongest and could get away with just about everything.

Of course you still love him. How couldn't you?

You were one of the first to look at him as something other than the strongest. Even after the star plasma vessel, and Toji Zenin. Even after Suguru’s death. Even through your own grief, your presence was constant. To him, the concept of not having you around was strange.

The taste of coffee and lipstick lingers on your lips. Your thumb comes up to wipe away the smudge of red that’s transferred to his lips. And you, so pliable and eager, fall right into his lap.

His lips find your neck, hands wandering from your arms, to your chest, to your waist. He’s savoring your closeness—the scent of your shampoo: coconut. Little do you know, he keeps a bottle of the stuff in his own bathroom. If anyone asks, he claims it’s Tsumiki’s. Only you would know otherwise. She hates the stuff, and has been buying her own since the moment she was able to. Really, he keeps it around because he can't bring himself to throw it away.

“Satoru, we shouldn't do this.” You say. You don't really want him too, it’s only to preserve your pride.

Then why is your body responding so well to him? Your body knows this routine. Maybe the last several months of living alone has sped up the process considerably. Blood rushes where it needs to be, and perhaps most shamefully of all, you’re wet. Although you’re not quite prepared yet, it’s just in the early stages of gathering.

A line of saliva connects his lips and your neck as he pulls away. “If you really wanted me gone, I wouldn't still be here,” he says. 

You tell yourself that, if you really wanted him to stop, then you wouldn't have spent so many nights dreaming of this. You wouldn't reach out to the cold spot on the bed beside you. Your subconscious wouldn't long for him in nearly every way imaginable. 

His hands trace across your waist, coming to take yours. They’re warm, albeit a bit shaky. He’s just itching to undress you—to claim what’s his. It's a sick, possessive side of him that’s only fueled by your recent months apart. He comes to kneel before you like a man bowed in prayer. Satoru sits in worship, but not for the favor of a higher being. You might as well be one to him. Should you wish it, the strongest—wielder of the six eyes—would worship the very ground before you. That devotion would soon become suffocating. It was a bandaid on an already failing relationship.

“Still want me to stop?” He asks, squeezing your hands. Whether that’s on purpose, or an accident, you can't tell. “You say no and I’ll stop here. Just give me the word and we won't ever have to do this again.”

In this moment, your body betrays you: you shake your head. You don't truly want him to go; you know that, he knows that. He wouldn't be poking and prodding at every little unhealed wound if that wasn't the case.

“I need to hear you say it,” he says. That’s when you notice what’s on the chain around his neck: his wedding ring. 

It's like he’s mocking you. Of course he still has it. Of course he saw that yours was still sitting on the bathroom counter. 

Satoru has always been like this. He pokes and prods, finding out where you’re weak. What cracks or wounds he can press his fingers into. Pushing boundaries comes natural to him. 

Maybe you’ve changed. Maybe he hasn't changed at all.

“I just want to get off,” you say. 

“Poor baby,” he coos, “you haven't gotten off at all while I was gone, have you? You should have called me. I would have taken care of you.”

“I think I'd rather call Nanami for that.” You say.

The chuckle he lets out sounds nervous. “I know you're joking,” he says, “but judging by the way he looks at you? I think he'd take you up on the offer.”

You believe it. It was a thinly veiled secret that Nanami harbored a little crush for you. The man would never go as far as to pursue his coworker, let alone his coworker's ex wife. This entire time, he’s kept a respectful distance, only speaking about your marriage if you expressed a want to do so. You’ve considered it. Hell, you’ve given it a lot of thought. You think maybe… just maybe, if the two of you were drunk or desperate enough, something could happen. But fraternizing with coworkers in such a way is ill-advised. 

Satoru is going to give him hell tomorrow when he sees him at work. Nanami will be none the wiser, assuming Satoru is up to his usual antics.

“One last chance to back out of this,” he says, “if you don't want to do this…”

“Are you going to fuck me or not?” You ask.

His fingers trace down the curve of your spine, before coming to the hem of your sweater, pulling it up—and over—your head. From him comes an audible little gasp once he realizes you have no bra on underneath. That part wasn't intentional; you need to do laundry, and your shirt was baggy enough that a bra wasn't necessary. Your nipples stiffen once exposed to the open air. Although you know how this looks, it sends a pang of self-consciousness through you, causing you to cross your arms in front of your chest. It’s not like he hasn't seen this before. Maybe it's a last ditch attempt to preserve your pride. And he’s nearly tripping over himself to undress, pulling off his coat, then button-up, then trousers. Off comes your skirt, the silky fabric pooling around your feet. 

If you could stop for a moment and think, it would be endearing: the desperation that falls over you two like teenagers. He can hardly keep his hands off you, while you don't quite know what to do with yours. Eventually, you settle on wrapping your arms around his neck. 

You sit on the edge of the bed before him, still in your panties. Plain black. Nothing fancy, but cute. Maybe if you knew…

You almost scold yourself for thinking such things. It’s not like you had any way of knowing this would happen. You know part of it was to preserve your pride. Being able to move on without seeming like you needed him. He’s not your husband anymore; why go through the effort of getting dressed up?

Beside you, on the bed, he finds a spot to sit. He’s half hard already. His hands ghost up the outsides of your arms, before coming to cup your face. They soon fall to your waist as you move to straddle his lap.

Satoru leans in to kiss you, and it’s… uncharacteristically sweet. That almost makes things worse. If this were something over and done with quickly, that would be tolerable. You could chalk it up to raw emotions or hormones or something other than the fact you still have feelings for him and haven't come to terms with that.

Sex for the sake of mindless pleasure is one thing. It’s tolerable. You can explain it away easily. But the way he handles you—like you’re going to break—sends a pang of pain through your chest. It's too much. Should he act selfishly, that would be far more bearable than this. 

You almost want him to. It would be so much easier if he just took what he wanted, and left.

“Lay back,” he says, “like that. Good girl.”

You scoot back on the bed just far enough to fall against the pillows. Your thighs part just enough to accompany him. The body above yours is warm. His lips find yours, then your neck, then one of your stiffened nipples, softly biting down on it. That draws a sharp gasp from you, although the shock it sends down your spine is rather pleasurable. 

His fingers hook under the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your legs slowly. Achingly slowly. Shamelessly, his eyes linger on the way they stick to your already slick cunt. This moment is only dragging out because he wants it to. They’re tossed away alongside the rest of your clothes. Long, deft fingers come to trace along your slit; teasing motions done by a man who can barely contain himself. The patience of Satoru Gojo has limits, and you’re testing them.

He palms himself through his boxers. He's completely hard now. That doesn't stop him from trailing long, sloppy kisses down your stomach, and up your thigh. His thumb traces across the bundle of nerves. Slow and steady. Just enough to get you aching for him, but not enough to get you anywhere. You try to angle your hips towards him—to grind against him—but Satoru cruelty pulls his hand away. 

“Just… let me have my moment,” he says, chest heaving as he breathes in. 

So he admits it…

His thumb is soon replaced with his mouth, greedily licking and sucking at the bundle of nerves that is your clit. There's little rhyme or reason but it's just messy enough that it'll get you off. First, his index finger pushes into you, then another. Satoru must be moaning nearly as loud as you. The hand that isn't fucking out is wrapped around his cock, and he's bucking into it like it's a warm body. Judging by the noises he's making, he's going to cum, so he stops himself before he does so. You don't. Satoru guides you through your own orgasm, his mouth leaving your clit only after you've stopped trembling. It felt rushed. You're not quite satisfied.

Satoru makes a show of licking his fingers. When he kisses you, this taste only grows more prominent. He's making you taste yourself and you're not quite sure how to feel about it. It's not unpleasant, akin to unripe persimmons in taste.

“Is it how you remember?" You ask, a coy expression spreading across your face.

“Different,” he says, “better.”

There’s no time to grab a condom. Not that you have any in here anyway. Whatever consequences that result from this will be dealt with in the morning.

A small groan leaves him as he bottoms out. It's obvious that he tries to stifle it, and fails, resulting in a noise that certainly has your neighbors questioning things. You'll avoid their gazes in the hall tomorrow morning. This won't become a regular thing, you tell yourself. 

Hardly a few thrusts in and he knows he is going to cum too soon. You can see it all over his face. Pleasure turns to concentration, then thinly veiled stress. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills your bedroom. Some small, sick little part of you is grateful for your thin walls.

You hate him. You still love him. You wish he would walk out of your apartment right now. But part of you can't bear to sleep another night alone.

“You don't know how much I've been thinking about this,” he says, making a noise between a grunt and a huff, “about the way you feel. Taste. I couldn't get it out of my head.”

His mouth finds yours again and the kiss he exchanges with you is dripping with desperation. Something small, and quiet leaves his lips once they part with yours. You soon recognize it as an “I love you.”

He cums sooner than either of you expected, and from him, your name spills past his lips like a prayer. Though, you suppose that this is the closest he'll ever get to praying.

Your own release is still just out of reach. It doesn't take much effort to get him on his back, and you on top, riding him. He’s still hard, despite having just cum inside you. The fruits of his effort can be seen streaming down your thighs. Your movements grow sloppier as you grow nearer to your release, grinding down against him and his softening cock. Within your stomach, it’s as if an invisible band is tightening. Your own orgasm comes out in the form of a noise that sounds like both a moan and a sob. It's anger and pain mixing with pleasure. Tears of frustration are brimming along your lower lash line. You hate him. You love him. You wish he would leave but you don't want to sleep alone. A rift exists between the two of you that time will not heal.

Instead, you lay beside him on the bed. From beside you, he grabs a blanket for you to cover yourself with. As much as he missed the sight of your naked body, he knows this room is cold, and you’ll be getting up to get dressed anyway. 

To him, there’s not a more beautiful sight: you, laying on the bed beside him, leaking of his cum. It would be better if it were his own bed, he thinks, but this'll do. 

“I take it we’re on speaking terms again?” He asks.

“I don't know yet,” you say, “depends on how this conversation goes.”

From beside you on the nightstand, you retrieve your glasses, putting them back on. Outside, the sky still appears dark, only lit up momentarily by a bolt of lightning. The rain has slowed to a drizzle, running down your window in streams.

“Seems like great weather to stay in bed,” he comments. 

An arm snakes around your waist. You debate with yourself on whether or not to shove it off.

“I think some time apart will do us good.” You say, and the arm around your waist stiffens. He seems to be deciding whether to pull away or not.

“And what? Couples therapy too?” His tone suggests he's making a joke, but not one in bad faith.

“Just in general, you need therapy,” you’re only half joking when you say it, despite it applying to you too, “but I don't think there's one that specializes in whatever you have going on.”

“Funny.” He says flatly.

He lays on his back on the bed, and you lay on your side, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. 

“I don't know what I want.” You say, finally. “I guess I could use something to eat.”

You had plans to make a nice, elaborate dinner tonight, although you’re no longer feeling like it. You went through the effort of buying the ingredients, and cleaning the kitchen, so you might as well. 

Satoru follows you as you make your way to the kitchen, stopping once to pull on a shirt. It used to be one of his, he notes. Maybe enough time has passed that you don't remember. Maybe you do. It’s just long enough to fall towards the middle of your thighs—you won't be giving the neighbors a show. He stops long enough to pull his boxers back on, leaving the rest of his clothes discarded on your bedroom floor.

From a cabinet, you retrieve two mugs. On goes the kettle to boil. He watches as you fill the french press with one… two… three scoops of coffee grounds. Just enough boiling water goes in to wet the grounds—they have to sit for a few minutes before the rest is poured in. 

Your taste in coffee hasn't changed much over the years. You still take it with cream and sugar. Satoru—when he does drink coffee—takes it with enough sugar to make your teeth hurt. 

“We must be on speaking terms,” he says, “otherwise I'd have been kicked out by now.”

“If I was going to kick you out, I would have done it before we had sex. Not after.” You say, taking a sip of your coffee. 

Something about the casualness of this moment makes your chest ache; like the last year hasn't happened, and the two of you are just sharing a moment over coffee. 

Neither of you notice the front door opening, nor the jingle of keys being inserted into the lock. Tsumiki, standing in the doorway, nearly drops what she’s holding: a book. Her eyes are wide with a mix of shock, before narrowing into anger. 

“‘Miki!” You say, almost as shocked as her, if not moreso. “What are you doing here?”

“Returning this,” she says, holding up the book in her hand, “I sent you a text about it like an hour ago. What are you doing?!”

Truly, you don't have anything to say for yourself. Your mouth opens, and a few, broken fragments of an excuse come out. Satoru, looking nearly as surprised as you, simply waves to her, before disappearing into another room. That won't help your case at all. 

“Having coffee,” you say, “we were just talking about your game on Saturday.”

She seems unconvinced. Tsumiki, like most teenagers, is a lot smarter than people give her credit for. Silently, she sets the book on the counter, before turning back towards the door.

“I’ll see you at dinner," she says, leaving.