#album: nothing above nothing below

[glittergroovy]

[gummy-sharks666]

You know the episode is bad when u gotta pull out these mfs

[callmeblake]

Death Spells - Nothing Above, Nothing Below (on amazon music)

There is a death spells vinyl, unopened on ebay. And if you buy it you will still need to download digital files from somewhere else because the old download site DIED.

alaso, official lyrics

[catmaidetho]

♾️ infinite sign!!!

You look scared 'Cause you know I'm a fuck

"fantastic bastards" by Death Spells!

send me a ∞ for a song!

[lo1k-diamonds]

SX Seoul Series | Yoongi Entry 💜 Sugar Rush Ride

PAIRING: YoongixReader

SUMMARY: You produced a song based on your hidden desires for your fellow producer and promised yourself that tonight, things would change. You were done pining after him, but then he arrived at the listening party.

WORD COUNT: 12.6k

GENRE: coworkers (mutually) pining to lovers

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: explicit, pwp (porn w/ plot really), drunk fight (but you sober up...sort of), bratty reader, rough but Yoongi is pro at aftercare, fingerfucking, face-fucking, edging, spankings, his hand is on your neck a lot (am I forgetting something?)

(You can also read it on AO3)

A.N. This is based on the song of the same title by TXT 🔥 It was not planned and maybe it has been done before, but it was too good to miss 😁

Masterlist | Masterpost | Scroll my stories on Tumblr | Schedule and WIPs

Yoongi parked his car underground in a private parking lot before stepping outside into the night in Itaewon. It was crowded as usual, but he paid no mind to the passersby — he had somewhere to be.

He reached the steps that led into a famous club in the neighborhood and entered below the red lines warming up the humidity into steam: SX.

He was giving away his coat when the music from the backroom hit him, the pop music with the codename temptation resonating in the air, and in his ribcage. He stepped towards it confidently, unbothered by the instant boom of noise that hit him once the door opened and closed again behind him. No, nothing would bother him until he found what he was looking for.

He scanned the room attentively, the darkness crossed punctually and rhythmically by the flashes of lights to the beat of the songs he helped produce himself. All but one song that ended up being the main track, the reason why he had rushed to be at the listening party tonight.

He got to the bar and looked around again; he saw lots of people he knew, the artists included. None had seen him yet, so he took the chance to search even more carefully. And finally, his eyes fell on you. You were listening attentively as you held your hair to the side and someone, a man spoke into your ear above the noise. Then you burst out laughing, shoulders and chest trembling with excitement, and your hand landed on the man’s chest. Not in a smack, not to push him away, just subtly placed there in an intimate gesture, or an invitation thereof.

Yoongi was by your side before he knew it. The man with you looked up with a silent question and you flinched and looked back, eyes instantly widening in surprise.

“Yoongi! You’re back!”

You launched your arms around his neck to pull him into a hug, and he immediately knew you had alcohol in your system. Despite this, he reacted the only way he could be expected to — he wrapped a protective arm around you and looked straight into the eyes of that dude trying his luck.

“Right on time,” you grinned when you stepped back. “Inhyuk, this is Yoongi, the producer I was telling you about.”

The guy bowed and said something polite, but Yoongi wasn’t listening. You had stepped to stand beside the guy and his hand had comfortably set on your waist. For a second, his sole thought was, Since when? But then he cooled down.

“I see. Well, enjoy the party. I’ll see you later,” he told you with his eyes set on yours and you got the message.

But you didn’t want to worry about that right now, so when Inhyuk pulled you by the waist to talk to you a bit closer, you didn’t flinch. You smiled and agreed to have another drink while the crowd around you listened and enjoyed the album you helped produce. You were proud of yourself, it was the fruit of your first year of work with—

The main track started and the crowd cheered as it did every time it played. Your eyes watered as Inhyuk congratulated you and clinked his drink to yours but as you drank, there was heat building inside of you. It was funny to hear the lyrics you wrote being sung back at you and fit perfectly at that moment. But then you chuckled, as your eyes fell on Min Yoongi. Your thoughts would always stop as soon as he was back near you. That would never change.

Yet you looked up and smiled at Inhyuk, giddy with your drink and with excitement. You made a vow when you decided to let this song be performed and sung — it was you putting your feelings into your work to get rid of them. That was the deal.

Inhyuk smiled mischievously at you as if he couldn’t believe, but didn’t disapprove, of the song's lyrics speaking so openly about desire, about opening locked doors into seeing stars and asking for more. And you kept smiling and drinking. Because you made a deal with yourself and maybe tonight was the perfect time to go into a new direction.

The song was only three minutes long, but it drove Yoongi to a corner. He gripped his tonic water and faced the bar while the music kept calling to him, Come here more, let’s play more.

Just like the first time he heard it and was covered in goosebumps, wild thoughts coming to him that he had to quickly water down. He sighed; it didn’t stop him from flying back as soon as possible to talk to you about it. Confront you, more like.

He turned to the side to find you by the bar having shots with that guy, and that was it. The full album had played, you had your moment in the spotlight as you should, the artists were having a blast alongside everyone else, and he had had enough of seeing you so close to some guy.

You were on your fourth tequila shot when you felt an arm extend behind you to reach the bar, and you shivered. Not because it was cold; you were sweating from the drinks and the energy of the crowd. No, it was because you knew who it was, even if the arm didn’t touch you.

“We should go,” his voice was steady near your ear even though your head was spinning a little.

“The night is still young!” Inhyuk said as he grinned and grabbed another shot glass, waiting for you to do the same, but despite your giddiness, you hesitated. 

You looked up to Yoongi and saw his neutral beautiful lines, and you understood what he was doing.

The guy saw he was losing you, so he moved closer to get your attention, “I can take you home.”

He said it with amusement, like a tease, and you grinned. You were taken by the energy between you two; you both knew where that was going. But then a breath being slowly heaved behind you shook your foundations and you looked down. Yoongi was just doing his part of the deal, but suddenly you were fucking pissed. He couldn’t possibly understand that you needed to be with someone, anyone other than him. Desperately, before you’d fucking combust!

But he was your coworker, the genius producer of your label. And despite everything, you didn’t want to burn a bridge. Inhyuk was not that great anyway.

You shrugged almost innocently, “Maybe next time. It was nice meeting you.”

Yoongi pointed so that you’d go ahead to the exit and you did. Yet with every step, something was bubbling up your throat. There was a lump there, blocking you from voicing it while you grabbed your coats, walked the cold night to his car, and got in to be on your way.

The whole ride you argued with yourself that this was for the best. You shouldn’t have sex with someone after so many drinks, that was not how it was supposed to go. But maybe that was what you needed to have the courage to just move on. To want another man as desperately, and not the one driving you home right now. You needed it, you needed to go crazy and do something you wouldn’t normally do. You needed the regret, to stop playing safe, to stop believing your heart knew what was best for you when all it did was set on someone who saw you as nothing but a colleague.

When you arrived, he entered the private parking of your apartment building and parked swiftly. It made your stomach bubble further with anger, he was just so used to taking you home. That was the deal. Well, screw that.

“Thanks, good night.”

You pushed the door open and peeled yourself away, closing it with a bham only to seek support in the car instantly. Your legs were wobbly, the world was spinning and you cursed in irritation. It was fine before, why was it so difficult now?

His door opened and closed, the car beeped as it locked, then his steps echoed to get to you. And everything was like needles prickling your patience. He stood next to you to help you and you didn’t know what you wanted more: to scream at him or to just disappear.

But he placed his hand on your waist firmly, walked you to the lobby and the elevator, and even dialed your code to enter your apartment. It infuriated you — it reminded you of all the times over the last year that he had done his part of the deal. That he had taken you home safe and sound, and still never seen you for anything more while you pined helplessly.

So you tried to reach your living room without his help and stumbled very quickly, yet a firm grip on your arm prevented you from falling face flat. Normally, you would have blushed, thanked him, and let the politeness and decorum dictate your interactions, but not now.

You pulled your arm loose, “I don’t need a chaperone!”

“And I don't need you to fall and break a leg.”

You threw your jacket and purse over your couch finally with a frustrated huff. The world was spinning and annoying you so fucking much. You needed to scream at him once and for all and be done with it, why couldn’t it stand still?

“Why did you interfere?”

“What do you mean?” He was calmly taking his shoes off after hanging his coat by the entrance and his placidness irked you.

“I was having a good time!”

You barely saw the line crossing his face, “He was no good for you.”

“What? Why?!”

“He just wasn’t,” he stated, walking further inside your apartment like he knew it, and he did. He’d normally stay for a chat after bringing you home and made sure you were okay.

“But why?!” You insisted, eyes so wide they looked twice their size, and still the room was shaky. “What was so wrong with him that—”

“He was trying to get you drunk,” he almost scoffed as he reached your kitchen and started looking around for something.

“So?” You tried following him, annoyed that he was not paying attention to you.

He found a cup and right next to it what he was looking for. He took a black coffee capsule and put both things next to your coffee machine. “He just wanted sex.”

He seemed annoyed now as he prepped the coffee and you threw your hands in the air, “I fucking want sex!”

He paused and looked at you, at your wide eyes and red cheeks. And you held your breath, swallowing dryly. Did you just yell that at Min Yoongi? At your genius coproducer?

“You're drunk.”

He pressed the button to draw an espresso from the machine, and you felt like a volcano about to erupt.

“I’m not drunk!!” He didn’t look at you and you gripped your hair with a frustrated scream. “I’m just not only a fucking worker bee, okay?! I have needs, I want things! So what, sex is too much for you to handle or som—”

A look was all it took for you to feel your guts freeze in place. You were so attuned to this fucking man that his slightest hint of disapproval hit you like an icicle. But it wasn’t just that, it was something else. Disappointment?

And you revolted hard against it; he had no right to make you feel this way. “Then what’s the problem?! I can’t want it? Because I’m a woman or something?”

He took the coffee cup and placed it in front of you on the kitchen counter, “Drink it.”

You ignored it, “I didn’t think you were a prude or conservative, but this is me.” You stepped back and fought the traces of the spinning walls vehemently. “I want things. More than just make good music, I’m not just my work.” He was listening, he was looking at you, but all he did was push the cup the slightest in your direction. And you snorted, “Hell, that’s why my music is good. Because I want— I want things.”

You couldn’t look at him, only at his feet. You thought you wanted to scream your frustration at him, but now you realized that was pointless. It wouldn’t matter. He wasn’t into you anyway.

“We’re not talking unless you’re sober.”

You raised your eyes and his coolness hardened you. Right. You’d get a slap on the wrist for getting drunk at the listening party of the album you fucking produced. For wanting to sleep with another producer. For not being professional? Who the fuck knew why. And maybe sober you’d care about losing your dream, but right now you were just fucking done.

“Right, whatever,” you turned to head to your bedroom. “I’ll take a shower, we can talk tomorrow.”

Yoongi saw you walk a bit shakily but firmly toward your bedroom and then he sighed. He considered for a moment to do as you wished and leave, but he didn’t want to leave you alone. Selfishly, he didn’t want to wait for tomorrow. He was restless, he needed to talk to you about it. And to do that, he needed you sober.

He grabbed your coffee cup and knocked on the ajar door with his eyes glued to the floor. He called your name and you scoffed.

“You’re taking our deal too much to the letter,” your voice sounded strained and he closed his free hand into a fist. “You don’t need to worry about—”

He heard noises and he didn’t think twice; he pushed the door open and found you almost fallen to the floor trying to take your dress off. You huffed in annoyance; you should have sat on the bed but then how would the dress pass under—

A firm hand hoisted you up as if you were as light as a feather and you came face to face with him. The man in your dreams, in your mind, making you scream in your bed just at the thought of him. Making you crazy. 

“I’m fine,” you said, looking down. “I can handle myself. You don’t need to bring me home and make sure I don’t—” 

Your voice wavered, what were you— 

Your eyes filled with tears, but maybe that was exactly what needed to happen, “Yeah, let’s stop that. Our deal? Let’s end it. You don’t need to bring me home and watch over me. I know I’m a woman in a men-dominated company, but I’m not a child.”

He sighed and stepped away and your heart cracked, leaving you to hide your face with one hand and try to press your chest with the other. You knew that to move on you had to push him away, but damn did it sting and—

The scent of coffee invaded your nose and you raised your hand from over your eyes. He was holding the coffee cup in front of you.

“Stop for a second and drink it. Then, we’ll talk.”

You looked for the sincerity in his eyes, and of course, you found it. So you took the cup and chugged the espresso as if it had been just another tequila shot. Then you lowered your arm and looked at him, trying to sense if that changed anything. It didn’t really, not for you.

“Did you hear what I said?”

His lips twitched, “I heard you, but you’re not hearing me. Sober, I said.”

You shrugged, “You said drink, I did. So now we talk. No more deal. No more keeping me safe, no more watching over me or bringing me home. I need to— I need to let it all out.”

His lips pursed for a second but then he voiced quietly, “I’m listening.”

“I don’t know what else to say,” you shrugged and almost laughed at yourself. “I told you I want things.”

“You write about what you want.” You hummed. “So what is that main track?”

“What I want.”

You were looking at him, a void in your mind all of a sudden, but he hesitated. You said you wanted sex and the song was about desire. Maybe he was reading it wrong.

“What do you want?”

“It’s not a what.”

“Is it a who?”

Your mouth dried, so you nodded. You were staring right at the object of your desire but he looked confused.

He scratched his head and then tried, “Did you— Did you use those words on purpose?”

“What words?”

“What w—” He seemed bewildered, “My stage name. You used my stage name. Sugar? Was that on purpose?”

For a split second, you were frozen, livid, shocked, and then laughter bubbled out of you, “I thought I had been so clever about it. Saying sugar instead of suga.” He was staring at you and his inexpression only led you to push the air out of your lungs, “I know, you don’t have to say it. You won't touch me, even if pigs fly. I know that.”

“That's not true.”

You tilted your head, then laughed some more, “Yes, it is. You don't even see me as a woman, I'm just another producer.”

“That's also not true.”

“Right,” you chuckled. “Let me give you reasons to walk out that door right now. I not only wanted to sleep with you but wrote a whole main track about wanting you. About being dazed, overwhelmed by desire, wanting just more. Give it a listen. You know I struggle with titles, but the name of the song was the first thing I had.”

You chuckled again and turned around, rubbing your face for a moment. It was out. You didn’t care too much if anyone else knew, and if anyone had thought of it, they had been smart enough to stay quiet. But now he knew, and there was no going back. Sugar rush ride. You laughed again. You stood by that tile.

“I—” His voice sounded unsure for the first time and you turned to face him. “I don’t— Was it just a rush? You felt a rush at the thought of me and wrote that?”

“What difference does it make?”

“It makes a world of a difference,” he insisted, eyes set on you though he hadn’t moved an inch yet. “I still haven’t heard you say what you want now.”

“What I want?” You were incredulous, “Are you even listening? I’ve been saying nothing else! What?” He was unmoving, but for the first time, you could swear you saw his eyes glistening, and you were out of filters. “I want to be with you. I want you to fuck me already.” You shivered, the strength of your own words working against you. “I have since the day we met. I forgot I had an ex and was heartbroken to finger myself to the thought of you so many times I lost count.” He opened his mouth but you didn’t let him speak, “Shut up. I know what you'll say. I’ve wasted a year of my life. We're kind of friends and we work together. I know all that,” you huffed, exhausted. “So just leave.”

You turned to get to your ensuite bathroom and this time succeeded in pulling the dress out of your body, letting it fall to the ground with a rustle. You turned to reach the makeup remover over your counter and almost missed the way he was still standing in your room, looking at you. You blinked as you faced him, and your nipples hardened without your control with the goosebumps navigating your skin. You had nothing on, you rarely did in events like those. You used it to boost your self-esteem and feel sexy, and now you guessed he knew it too.

You removed your makeup relatively quickly and were curious to look back, and he was gone. You looked down with tears pooling in your eyes; but of course. Why did it all just have to come out of your mouth like that? Now he knew your deepest darkest secrets and would never want to work together again in the future. Great.

You stepped into the shower and let the warmth wash away your worries. You were not a child. You had feelings and wants. They were perhaps misplaced, but you didn’t harm anyone. You sighed; still, maybe it was best to look for a new job in the morning.

Once you made peace with that, your mind wandered to greener pastures, to more heavenly thoughts. You reviewed the expression he had as you told him crudely what you wanted, and it was good. Tense. In your wildest fantasies maybe it could be even a little possessive. And the thought of Min Yoongi getting possessive over you turned you on like nothing ever could.

Your hand trailed south along your skin and avoided the water. Your undeniable arousal made you chuckle. You had just told him you touched yourself thinking of him, and there you were again, like clockwork. He never told you not to, he didn’t act disgusted or look at you sideways, so suddenly you felt egged on.

You tilted your ass up and out of the water and spread your folds greedily, closing your eyes to think back to his dark eyes while you were naked in front of him. It was as if he wasn’t thinking, he was just looking. You didn’t see his eyes running up and down your body, but you didn’t have to. No way he would not be curious, even if he had walked out. 

His leaving stung but fuck, was he hot. Now he knew you thought of him and what you did while thinking of him. Your heart stung for a second with the thought that you would lose his friendship, but you got back on track. You were horny and he had created that mess. You tried to kindly tell him to leave so many times, it wasn’t your fault that he lingered until you were spurting the deepest truths and stripping naked to shower. 

And now he knew. He knew you didn't like wearing underwear when you had formal events, how sensitive your nipples were to the cold, and that you had a small blue birthmark at the end of your back. Fuck. He knew you were a dirty little whore fingering yourself to the thought of his cock buried deep—

Two arms wrapped around you and you moaned, too immersed in your fantasy to be startled. You were thinking about his arms around you, his chest strong for your back to take support, hands trailing down your body to explore with long fingers ready to spell your demise so easily—

His fingers were next to yours cupping your sex and you gasped, squirming away only to be pressed against his firm chest.

“No, continue,” his voice was a taunt as his free hand seemed indecisive about where to settle on your body. “You want to touch yourself? Go on.”

You stammered his name but his fingers were quickly learning from yours how to trace your heat, spread your slick, and make you tremble. You were shaking, half embarrassed, half feverish, until his other hand finally settled on groping your breast harshly and you moaned. You moaned with a hiss dragging with how much more you wanted, with your ass bucking into him only to rub more to get a better feeling of his hard cock on your ass. He was clothed, you could feel it, but the thought of him wanting this was driving you up the wall.

He was coming to you while you showered, entering it with clothes on just to reach you, grab you, touch you, and make you moan. There was no hiding it now, no possible misunderstanding. He had fingers rubbing your clit while his other hand squeezed your tit harshly, making your legs weak. Nothing was forcing him to stay, to touch you, to listen to you moan.

You bucked your hips again, you were so close to coming it was unstoppable. Yet a logical thought still tried to push through, “Are you sure about this? We're friends— We work tog—”

If only you weren’t rubbing your ass on his crotch to feel him better, to get tighter, to force his fingers on your clit to chase you.

His reply was a whisper to your ear over your wet hair, “You said what you wanted. You can feel how much I agree.”

Your walls squeezed, you were so ready, “You— You want this?”

His hips pushed into you once and you almost fell apart. “Don’t pretend you can’t feel it. I’m asking myself how you never noticed.”

You gripped his hand over your chest and he released the pressure, instantly making you squirm and whine in a complaint. You pressed his hand and he squeezed again, hearing attentively how your moan pitched wantonly. He hummed near your ear, nuzzling your wet skin with a smile adorning his lips. So that was how you liked it.

“No, I—” Your breath hitched with how he was working you and for the second time you thought you would fall apart, but the intensity reeled back to allow you to think. “Not like this. I noticed you treated me differently but I thought it was because I was the only girl in the studio—”

You staggered with a gasp, your body rushing a cold wave under your skin to contrast with the warm water of the shower, but again the sensation eased as the seconds ticked away. And you knew then that it was him, keeping you on the edge and not letting you fall apart. Him with his smooth fingers and nuzzling behind your ear.

“No, not because of that,” his voice was tense as his lips ghosted over your wet neck. “I was… charmed,” he admitted with a chuckle, and when you bucked your hips, he gripped you closer. “But I thought you saw me as a friend.” The thought alone made his lip pull in annoyance, but the slick covering his fingers at your heat soothed him, “I could have done this so many times if you had just asked.”

He bit down on the tender flesh between your shoulder and neck and you screamed, the sting mixing with your pleasure so viscerally that you could have cum on it alone. Only he sensed it too and moved his hand away, dragging yours along so you couldn’t finish it yourself, and you laughed quietly. He was suckling on your skin with meticulous precision and you could only grin widely, euphoric sparks flying out of control inside your belly.

“You could have said something too,” you sounded like you were whining, but you couldn’t stop yourself. He was now licking where he had just marked you and you were trembling, legs so weak it was embarrassing.

He let go and nuzzled along your neck to your spine in between your wet hair, “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. You either want it or you don’t. I thought you’d say something.”

You chuckled, “I wouldn’t ever. You should have known.”

He hummed and leaned back ever so slightly to look at the curve of your ass pressed against him. Then his hand trailed up, lashed by the shower while gently feeling and pressing your soft skin. He couldn’t believe he almost missed this.

“We have to work on that, then.”

You were still smiling when you let your head fall back to his shoulder, “If you did as I said—”

“I'd be out of here without ever getting to touch you,” his annoyance was clear in his voice, and even in the way his fingers pressed less gently. “Without knowing what’s on your mind. No, you,” he wrapped his arm across your torso to gently reach the base of your neck and you looked up, giving him more space. “You are not in charge here.”

He couldn’t have known the way you were grinning. You just let yourself fall further into his embrace, his hand settling on the base of your neck in a way you found comforting. Then he turned you gently to the side and your back hit the cold wall. A hiss came out of your lips quickly, but you were still smiling. Even as his dark eyes scanned you for your reaction, with one hand keeping you still by the neck. You were waiting with a familiar ease on your features, and he relaxed. That was enough.

Suddenly, your feet parted and you were surprised. He had used his foot to spread your legs and the way his free hand was tracing your wet body like he owned it shortcircuited your brain.

“I want to know what this dirty mind of yours has been keeping from me.”

You could hear a hint of eagerness and it was enough, “I won't tell you.”

“You will.” His tone was so sure, like he held the world at his beckoning, that you trembled. You were sure then he would hold yours, turn it upside down, inside out, and you’d love every second of it. “You will tell me every dream of yours, every fantasy, every little filthy fleeting thought. Then maybe we can do something about it.”

“Maybe?” You were eager, his hand was at your lower stomach but seemingly chose to ignore where you ached most.

“Maybe. If that's something you want.”

“I do, I want everything.”

His eyes jumped to yours; he needed to know if that was a spur-of-the-moment blurted line, or if you meant it. All he found were eager glistening eyes. “Everything?”

“Everything,” you confirmed, eyes staring at him like you were seeing stars.

For a split second, he considered that this could not be what he thought it was. Maybe you were still drunk and just talking big, maybe you had no idea of what you were saying. But the way you didn’t waver, even as he considered pulling the plug on everything despite being a millimeter away from snapping and making his thoughts come true did sway him. He brushed your jaw once so tenderly and you leaned into his touch. He’d take it easy while he discovered you, there was no rush.

“Alright,” he voiced and lowered his hand. “Show me first.”

“Show you what?” You were eager but you were starting to shiver.

“What you do when you think of me.”

“Didn’t you just catch me doing it?”

“You’re going to look at me this time.”

“Look?” You tilted your head slightly.

“Eyes on me,” his eyebrows twitched.

“Only my eyes?”

“And your thoughts.”

You grinned and looked away but his instant grip over your chin made you look up.

“You sure you want everything?”

You huffed with a sly smile and let your head fall back to the wall, “I’m sure.” His dark gaze was skeptical and your grin widened, “Oh, I want everything, sugar. Be sure not to hold back.”

He looked down to follow your movements and you almost laughed. Your hand was rubbing your clit so you could control your pleasure while his eyes roamed your body, the doubt lingering on his features. You could laugh again, but you didn’t. The way he doubted you was funny because he had no idea how crazy you were about him, but then it occurred to you that you also didn’t know the first thing about him. Did he like to watch? Would he guide you or leave you adrift? He had edged you three times already, did he notice? Did he do it on purpose to drive you crazy? 

Would he do it again?

Where exactly was his line? He was quiet now, eating you with his eyes and absorbing every little detail, from the way you breathed to your tongue peeking through your lips, to the way you gathered your arousal to coat your clit. You gasped ever so softly and his eyes instantly jumped to your face, and your lips twitched. You had him. How was it that you had the powerful Min Yoongi?

“What is going on in there?”

His voice was soothing and low, soft as a caress, and you smiled. “You.”

“Me how?”

“You told me to think about you,” your fingers hastened and you grinned.

“I told you I want to know your thoughts.”

You hummed with a smile and eyed him from head to toe shamelessly. You knew what he told you, what he wanted, but what about what you wanted?

Your fingers picked up the pace as your eyes gained a sly glim, and you thought he saw it. If he didn’t, he at least heard the wet sounds echoing in the bathroom.

“Do it slowly.”

You obeyed, so painfully slowly that your eyelashes fluttered, but what truly got you was the soothing of his features. He looked endeared, all because you did as he told you. He looked so sweet, so adorable, so loveable. You wanted to squeeze his precious cheeks.

So you reached forward to touch his face, but he slapped your hand away harshly, “No.” You bit your lip not to smile but his eyes were just hardening. “I’m still waiting.”

“For?”

You couldn’t help your grin as you squirmed ever so slightly against the wall. His precious dark eyes were so focused on you.

“Me how?”

But he wasn’t paying attention. “You right now.”

It didn’t surprise you that he didn’t become impatient, “Just me standing here?”

Your fingers were ever so quicker, “Stiff as a stick trying to control something that isn’t yours yet.”

His eyes glimmed and your tongue peeked out again to hide your laugh. It was fun seeing him being careful, but when would he actually touch you?

“Didn’t I say slower?”

You instantly did, and the recoil of the feeling had you fluttering your eyes closed.

“Eyes on me,” he sounded angrier now, closer too.

You did open your eyes but pursed your lips; there was still half an arm's distance between you. If he wouldn’t get the hint, then you’d have to do it yourself.

“Strip,” you asked, swallowing dryly.

He scoffed and instantly looked down, “I said slow.”

“If you want it slow, do it yourself.”

It happened so fast you couldn’t process it. Like a rubberband snapping, his hand darted to your neck pulling and pushing hard enough that your head banged the wall but not harshly enough that it hurt you. It did daze you for a second, but your lips just formed a grin until you laughed. 

Two could play that game, apparently, and he looked so fucking hot when he was mad. You loved that his hand stayed put like a necklace, a reminder that he wasn’t touching your heat, but he owned it. Along with your thoughts and your pleasure, he owned you. And that would have been enough to snap you, but what about him?

So you closed your eyes again, blatantly going against what he wanted, and were not surprised when his free hand darted to pinch your hardened nipple. You moaned instantly, facing him with the same challenge, meeting dark eyes that seemed to have given up on making you talk, but not on making you do as you were told.

So every time you blinked, he pinched you. Your nipples, your sides, your ass, earning moans every time, but nothing more, until he snapped again. He jumped on you and you just made your neck more available for him to latch on and bite. Your moan instantly pitched, and it finally seemed worth it. He was squeezing your tits and biting you while you played yourself to his presence, and he finally was involved in it too.

“Don’t come.”

The joke was that you wanted to do as he said, but you couldn’t anymore. Your moans were higher now, just like your daze, and in a second—

He yanked your hand away, “That’s enough.”

“Why? Didn’t you want to see what happens when I think of you?”

Your voice was light but your chest heaving gave your state away, and the more he kissed and bit down your neck, the worse it became. You needed him, needed more than just his thoughts or presence. You gripped his shoulders to bring him closer, you needed—

A whimper pushed out of you as you hid in his neck, but he didn’t stop. You were sure that had to be at least three fingers just pushing into you roughly with no preparation other than your repeated edging. No preparation came, whatsoever, because as soon as they were in, he started pumping his fingers in and out of you at a vicious speed. 

You instantly lost your grip on reality, though not on his shoulders, as even the air seemed to still inside your lungs. The sultry sounds echoing around you didn’t just come from his digits beckoning you closer insanely fast, but also from your whimpers. Because there was a fire burning you from the inside out with every moan as he bit and licked closer to your ear. As your nails sank through his shirt to reach his skin, your legs trembled, and the wall behind you became scorching hot while he pressed you to it.

From deep within your frenzy you couldn’t hear his growl near your ear, or feel the way his drool dripped down your neck or his fingers dag at your skin. He could hear you, pitchy moans quickly becoming an addictive sound, yet this time it was different. Your cunt was squeezing around him like a vice, and the harder it made for him to finger fuck you, the more he wanted to.

“Don’t come,” he grunted right under your ear, but you couldn’t register. You just moaned even more desperately, gripping him to you so hard he thought he’d melt. “You’ll cum when I tell you to.”

He was trying to hold on to something when he pulled away to look at you, but he could see you weren’t listening. You were flushed and panting hastily, avid with your nerves on fire. You could only see him and you had been waiting too long.

“Please,” you sounded a second away from breaking into tears and he admired you for it at that moment. You were so strong for him. And so pliable.

So he kissed your cheek gently and said your name once, taking pleasure from rolling it over his tongue. “Go on, cum.”

And it was all you needed to snap, tears coming to your eyes as your hips convulsed and searched for friction. You didn’t think you needed it because your walls were tensing, and again and again while desperate cries fell from your lips. His fingers calmed down inside you, his breath the same temperature as your blazing cheeks, and you thought a sweet blanket of lethargy would cover you soon.

Only he never stopped fucking you with his fingers, and so you whimpered and tried to push him away weakly.

“Don’t come down,” he murmured to your cheek. “Stay, don’t let it go.” 

Your nails sank on his shoulder blades again as you squinted your eyes shut. Tears roamed your eyes as you tried breathing and pushing through your sensitivity. You could handle your clit being sensitive, but inside you, that was a whole different story. You felt like you had been pounded to perfection, only to be further kneaded into sensations you had never felt before.

You looked at him, eyes droopy with whines coming out of your mouth. Why weren’t you surprised?

“Give me another one,” he asked gently, but you didn’t answer. 

How could you, he twisted his hand to reach into you deeper and your whole core burned. He was relighting a fire you thought had been extinguished, only to leave you breathless, dripping slick down his hand as you moaned between gritted teeth. 

So beautiful, so tense. He wanted to release you. 

“Look at me,” he asked softly, and you did. His eyes gave you a tenderness that made your heart convulse. How could he act sweetly like that, as if half of his hand wasn’t pounding your g-spot to bits? “You’re so good. Doing so well, giving me everything I want.” Your only reply was your moans, but you were listening. “I need you to focus for me.” He leaned to whisper in your ear, “Focus on the tension. You’re so tight around my fingers. Relax, don’t fight it. That’s it, move with me,” his voice was sweeter, and you softened. It was as if he was in it with you. As if he could feel it too. As if he was fucking you and not just sticking his fingers inside you. “You feel so good,” his whisper felt like the highest form of praise, and your moan pitched, melting alongside your nerves. He was so happy at the sound as he traced his lips down your cheek to whisper to the corner of your mouth, “Come with me.”

You moved with him once, twice, seeing in his eyes how much he was seeing and feeling you before looking at his lips, so close. He brushed yours ever so slightly in the hint of a kiss, moving with you as if you were jumping on his cock and not on his digits, and it was what pushed you. You pulled him closer and he let his mouth fall to yours, and your orgasm instantly started, forcing you to swerve so you could moan and breathe as you disintegrated. 

He let you feel your ecstasy to the fullest, biting his lip and feeding off of your release as if it were oxygen. Your trembling lips, your nails that marked his shoulders, your throbbing walls squeezing and gripping around him in sweet delight. All of you like a charming melody, sweet and utopic. Your moans were music until the very last, and by then, he had to taste it.

His free hand cupped your cheek and coaxed you into a sloppy kiss that you instantly reacted to. You were still not there, though, too dazed from the high to realize it fully; until you did. And you gasped. Yoongi’s tongue was licking at your bottom lip gently as if you were a delicacy that needed to be tasted slowly, and you couldn’t believe it.

You parted your lips to let him in and he pressed you even closer, enclosing you in such a euphoric moment you thought you’d pop like a firework. Like a cocoon filled with dazed butterflies with nowhere to go. He was kissing you and your wildest dreams seemed to have just come true. Tears were still hanging onto your waterline, and when he pressed your lips to move away and breathe, you were scared that it had all been a dream.

“So good, you’re so good.”

His voice was calm and tender, and it gave you the courage to open your eyes. He was so close with his eyes roaming your features swiftly, taking in the smallest detail as if he was finally free to. Then he smiled at your wonder, and you were convinced it was a dream.

That notion didn’t dissipate as he reached to the side to grab a towel and dry you with gentleness, enveloping you in the fluffy material as if it were a cloud. You sniffled, drained from the energy that you had just burned away and woozy from his sweet pats as he tried to dry the excess water out of your long hair.

Not even when he took your hand and pulled you back into your bedroom did the haze recede. Instead, you saw him pull the duvet open for you to get in the bed and you lost the towel and got in without a thought. Once you settled in, you did have your first thought: where was he going?

But he was back soon, and you knew in the back of your mind that he was just making the place tidy: getting the coffee cup from the floor to put it on the table, stopping the shower, and shutting the lights. Then he grabbed your towel from the floor and dried his own hair with hastened movements before throwing it aside. His eyes fell on you and your own picked up on the wet spots on his clothes. He was probably cold too.

“Come here,” you voiced hoarsely, staying in a ball to conserve the heat. He instantly stepped to you, but you pouted, “Clothes off first.”

He blinked and looked down, but then smirked and did as you asked. Of course, he couldn’t make your bed humid and uncomfortable with his clothes. Your eyes were on him, unable to separate from the soft unblemished skin revealing itself more and more. His muscles moved as he bent down, wide shoulders and soft biceps trying to hide the strength he had. But you just observed quietly, tucked in the duvet. You could still feel his fingers inside and all around you, pressing and owning you easily. But you could keep a secret, his power and strength were only for you to know.

He lowered his pants and boxers and your eyes glued to him like a magnet. He was hard and pretty, with protruding veins on a thick length that had your imagination doing cartwheels.

Your thoughts were interrupted quickly when he opened the duvet to get beside you and you shivered. You opened your arms and legs to welcome him, and in your haze, you suddenly thought that it all felt so domestic.

He grabbed your hand and pulled it away to tell you he wanted to lie behind you and you agreed instantaneously. His arms wrapped around you just as fast as you rubbed your ass to his crotch, and he chuckled as he pressed a kiss to your head.

“You must be tired.”

“No,” your voice was a low whimper as his warmth relaxed your nerve ends.

“No?” He sounded amused and soft and you had to admit that his chest was the fluffiest pillow.

“No…”

You didn't want to, but you were slowly dozing off. Slowly, and a bit more with every soothing breath you took together.

You shook and forced your eyes open, “I don't want to fall asleep.”

“Why?”

Your heart beamed and your lips curved; he was still holding you with his mouth to your head.

“Because… it will end,” you admitted, falling deeper into his touch as he nuzzled your hair. Suddenly you realized his boner was half gone. “You didn't come, I haven't touched you yet. I don't want to miss the opportunity.”

“We have tomorrow.”

“You might change your mind.”

“So can you.”

“I won't,” you insisted with a hint of annoyance as you twisted to look back at him.

“I won't either,” he promised calmly, glistening eyes set on you.

Your eyes were closing, the comfort and lethargy were pulling you away. Still, you focused on his lips, “Kiss me.”

He met your lips with no hesitation and you let that sweet touch soothe you. When he pulled away and kissed your nose, you slipped asleep.

When you woke up in the morning, two things made you alert: your soreness and the lack of space. You groaned with the sweet throb between your legs but frowned because something was over you. Turning back, the most precious image graced your vision and made stars twinkle in your eyes.

Min Yoongi was sleeping as quietly as a mouse with an arm around your shoulders as if to keep you tucked in. You brushed his hair aside and his nose twitched, making you instantly melt. Why did he look so sweet asleep? How could he be such a beast as a musician, a genius producer, and a darling in private?

You kept brushing his hair soothingly, thinking that intimately he was not a darling. No, not cute, not sweet. If that throb between your legs meant something, it was that Yoongi was the kind that owned. He owned his music, his process, the studio room, and you, for all you cared. Your finger trailed his cheek as you recalled your words the night before. He said he wanted you, the same as you, and he said he wouldn't change his mind, but what if he did? What if you lost your opportunity the night before?

Maybe you were still half asleep; otherwise, the fact that you were both in bed naked would have meant something. As it stood, you were anxious about what reality could bring. So when he opened his eyes and saw you, your instinct was to kiss him.

You brushed his lips gently but surely, giving him more than enough time and place to push you away if he wanted to. So when he didn't, you became bolder. Your tongue teased the seam of his lips and your hand roamed his chest, and as you got lost, you became vulnerable. 

He waited as long as he could. He let you kiss him, let you press, let you push him a bit back into the pillow, let you cup his jaw, but you never moved away. Never stopped, and never changed your mind. You did say you wanted everything, and he thought he had given you enough time to take it back.

So he grabbed your hair and rolled over you to get on top, pushing his tongue past your lips without asking. And you moaned, instantly weak to him taking something that in all that concerned you belonged to him anyway.

You thought that meant a green light to explore him just as he was doing, passing his hand down your side to your waist, but no. You palmed the expanse of his chest and he interrupted his mission simply to grab your wrists and pull them down. He pressed them once to the mattress, then released one to pass his slender fingers between your breasts and you took the opportunity again. Your hand sneakily went under the sheets to scratch his hip up to his ass, feeling how firm he was over you, yet he caught you before you could squeeze him.

“Stay still.”

He could have been saying good morning, yet you puffed, “Let me.”

“No.”

“But I want to,” you pouted and he nibbled down your neck.

“Too bad.”

You wanted to be good to him; you liked him touching you and his hard cock ever so close to your core did make you hazy with want. But as he kissed and licked and palmed and pressed you from head to toe, you grew impatient. Incredibly so when he turned you belly down to do the same down the length of your spine as if he had all the time in the world. Even more when he raised your ass and spread your legs, nibbling at your ass cheeks and squeezing them roughly. Aggravatingly so when he noticed your wetness dripping down your inner thigh and made it his pastime to try to reach it with his tongue.

“Yoongiiiiii,” you whined at the end of your patience, waves of goosebumps driving you insane as he spread your asscheeks more to reach your wet inner thighs.

“Hmm,” he was having way too much fun.

“Let me touch you too.”

And ruin the fun? “No.”

You whined again, “But I've waited.”

“Not enough.”

“Why not?” You were sulking despite your spasms around nothing. He could feel them without directly touching you, and it drove him to bite and kiss harder. You squirmed at his lack of reply, “How long more?”

“Until I say so.”

You shook your ass half in annoyance half in desperation, “I've waited enough. At least fuck me.”

“No.”

It was as though he was shooing a fly.

“Come on,” you dragged. “Get to the good part.” He snorted but didn't move. “Fuck me, come on.”

“No.”

“But you'll feel so good.”

He sighed with your taste on his tongue, “I know.”

“So do it.”

“Hmmmm.”

You thought there would be progress as he touched your core ever so lightly. But you waited and waited for what felt like an eternity. And although the tip of his fingers explored every nook and cranny slowly and gently, even the embarrassing ones, you were still not closer to what you wanted.

And so you snapped, “I asked you to fuck me.” He hummed, but your tone was assertive, “I won't shut up until you do.”

He changed absolutely nothing, wet fingers dragging to your nipples lightly.  And so you insisted.

“I'm waiting. How long will you keep me waiting? Should I do it myself?”

Your hand moved and he put it in place instantly.

“I can show you how it's done,” your tone became mocking. “In case you’re lost.” His teeth brushed the back of your thigh and you smirked, “If you never used your cock before—”

A slap to your asscheek echoed and you grinned. It was firm, a warning, but what could you do? You always liked to talk big in bed, and you couldn’t miss the opportunity to rile him up.

“Nothing to be ashamed of— If you don't know where to go or what to do— Should I take over?”

Every slap felt like a win and that last one wasn't any different. He gave more of him when he did it, and you felt it in the sting, the touch, the attention. When he grabbed your asscheeks and squeezed until you cried out, you thought that he might be holding back.

“You talk too much,” he said quietly.

“And you fuck too little.”

He pushed you harshly to fall with your belly up and grabbed your head firmly in place, using his body over you to fully press you down the mattress.

“I like to fuck people who indulge me.”

“Liar.” It escaped your lips before you could think. You were too horny to think, but then you laughed, “Fucking liar. You're rock hard, you want to fuck me so bad is not even funny.”

“Your point?”

“You like it,” you whispered, raising your head to reach his lips, which he didn't let happen. You looked into his eyes, “You like my talking. You adore every spank and every little reason I give you to do it.”

His expression didn't change except for the laughter in his eyes, “Can you blame me?”

“Fuck no.”

“Is it a problem?” He seemed cautious. 

“Yoongi,” you sighed. “I said everything.”

His lips finally showed a smile as he got on his forearms to look at you with new eyes.

“But Yoongi,” you called with a pout. “I did wait long enough.”

He grinned widely, so endearingly you wanted to kiss his entire adorable face. So loveable you wanted to drive him crazy.

“You wait until I tell you to.”

He seemed happy now as he leaned to kiss and play with your chest, pink tongue messing with your perky nipples to the point you squirmed. And it felt good, so good your legs were restless under him, opening but struggling to get him to align. He tortured your nipples, suckling and biting only to smile at your fussiness. You could only take so much.

You squealed, “If you don’t put your cock in me soon I’ll fucking scream.”

“Scream?” He was amused, barely separating his mouth from your breast.

But you sucked in a breath and screamed at the top of your lungs. Only for a second though; his hand covered your mouth and forced you to look at him.

“Shut it.”

He raised his hand carefully with your eyes locked, and all you did was roll your hips to get his cock near your dripping core. You thought he had learned something, so when he moved too but against you, keeping what you wanted purposefully at bay, you decided that holding back was not getting you anywhere.

You threw your head back and screamed again, and when his hand darted to muffle it, you bit it.

You took another breath, but before you could scream his hand wrapped around your neck firmly. You looked into his eyes as lightheadedness relaxed your neck and shoulders. He was so careful, but you were at such ease.

“Are you going to be quiet?”

His fingers were perfect around your throat, “I want to cream your cock so bad.”

Your voice was a wanton whine as your glistening eyes focused on him. You couldn't describe how much you were melting, how much he relaxed you only to tense you up the next second if he so chose to. How much that drove you to want him like crazy.

“Is that a dirty thought?” You nodded once, pleading with your eyes. He nuzzled your nose sweetly, “Not yet.”

“Then I won't be quiet.”

Your voice was gentle like a breeze but carried consequence, and when he nuzzled you further, you knew everything went both ways. He knew it too, and he wasn't stopping you.

You tentatively tried a scream and his hand wrapped firmer, observing you with sparkles in his eyes.

You huffed, cheeks becoming hot, “Why won’t you just do what I want?”

“Why won’t you quiet down?”

“And do your job for you?” 

You could see the smile in his eyes — he knew you were embarrassed. He was just seeing how far you’d go in your brattiness, but you were so horny you were lost. 

“All I’m asking for is your cock, don’t you have one?” He raised an eyebrow at your taunt; you could both feel his hard shaft pressed to your thigh. “So why don’t you shut me up? Do you need me to tell you how to use your dick?”

“Just because you’re needy and desperate, it doesn’t mean you should get what you want.”

The burn traveled to your chest; he was scolding you and it was like you’d been shaken. Of course, he’d answer you and deal with your attitude. You never thought he’d be the type to let it fly but to actually have him doing it was burning you from the inside out.

“But what I want is you,” you sighed, batting your eyelashes flagrantly. “Let me get on my knees, I’ll do whatever you like.”

He took only a second, “No, I like where you are.” You grinned in absolute joy; you also loved being under him with his hand around your neck. You felt taken care of and grounded, even as your mind became chaotic in the hazyness. “And there goes another dirty thought, hm?”

You bit your lip, “In my fantasies you always give it to me so right.”

“This isn’t a fantasy anymore.”

You grinned, “No, thank fuck. You look so much better pissed off in real life.”

He raised an eyebrow, “You want to piss me off?”

You almost laughed, “I want you to fuck me.”

“I never said I wouldn't,” he adjusted his hips but purposefully made it impossible for you to have him, and you squinted. He was smiling, “I just told you to wait.”

“And I told you I’d scream.”

You were snappy and he grinned, “Can’t we be civilized about this?”

His lips ghosted you and your chest burned again, “Nothing civilized about the way I want you to fuck me senseless.”

Your voice was wanton, bordering a moan as your hips rolled just to feel the tease of his cock near your core, and he kissed down your chin, “So you’ll scream?”

“Like hell.”

“No changing your mind?”

“Fuck no. Stop stalling,” you whined, moving your spread legs in the hopes of catching him, but he only chuckled.

“Go on, then.”

He got off you and you huffed in annoyance and screamed. It was short and you opened your eyes to see him just observing you with amusement. Why was it so funny to him when you were getting upset?

So you took a deep breath and screamed again and this time your lips pulled in a smile because what the heck were you doing?

“That’s it?”

His taunt had you take a deep breath and scream again, only to fall short. You covered your eyes and stifled a laugh. It reminded you of how you screamed on roller coasters.

“You must not have enough reasons to scream yet.”

You bit your lip, imagining the reasons you could have, the ways he could make you scream. The bed dipped next to you but you stayed in your reverie. In it, Yoongi touched you. He slapped your cunt with his cock and promised to use you. He grabbed you by the neck while he pounded into you so hard you saw stars.

You huffed in impatience, neediness making you bold; you were about to sit up and do something when you stopped. He was throwing his leg over you and his cock was so close your eyes nearly crossed. He grabbed your head in place, but you were staring, fixed, jaw falling open and lax instantly. You could pretend you wanted to scream more but you were just salivating, so when he aimed his cock at you, you just met him halfway.

His taste hit your buds quickly and moved to reach your throat, and you lost it. Your eyes rolled as you closed them, the salty traces leaving you dizzy, and the way he pushed himself down your throat made you squirm in waves of pleasure. It felt hot and intense and wild as he did it again and again, each time getting a better sense of how much you could take. You barely cared about breathing; he was finally using your mouth, fucking you, showing you how much he wanted you without holding back, and with each push, he made you feel better than the last. Elated, special — he was groaning and getting riled up down your throat because you made him feel that good.

Suddenly, he pulled back and you followed him as long as you could before he grabbed your arms and raised them above your head to stop you. He had heard you choke so he was probably worried, but you only sighed in impatience.

“So greedy,” he taunted, pressing your wrists down firmly. But he had a glint in his eyes — he was paying attention to you. Not worried, just caring.

“Aren’t you learning?” You said as you tried not to melt, but it was too late. He chuckled and his smile made you happy. “Keep going,” you asked softly, despite the tears running down to your hairline. “Please.”

He brushed his thumbs on your wrists for a second with his eyes set on you. You were such a handful and he couldn’t love it any better. Asking for him like that secretly drove him crazy, and made him want to give you everything you could ever wish for, no matter what. So when you leaned back and opened your mouth, it was his pleasure to stuff it with his dick. He grabbed your wrists more firmly and supported his weight on them to help him lean forward and give you the fucking you craved.

Time and time again he snapped his hips to get his cock down your throat, and it was challenging. His muscles were burning, but so were his lower stomach and balls as he tried not to come. You moaned and choked and bounced as he fucked your head into the mattress, and yet you were totally relaxed. Your arms and hands were still, calm as you got used and loved it. And he loved it too, but for your first time together and after skipping it the night before, he thought this time he wanted more.

He pulled away from you and it took you a second, but you instantly sulked. He settled between your legs as you cleaned the drool, “So I’m not going to swallow the sugar rush?”

He chuckled, “No, not this time.” You pursed your lips and were about to whine about him stopping so soon when he asked, “Do you have a condom?”

Your eyes widened and you instantly scrammed to conjure up one. Shit, shit shit, you thought as you turned your room upside down, then your toiletries, then your bathroom. Why the fuck didn’t you have one? Well, sure, you knew why, but you were so angry now. You could not miss this opportunity!

You turned to your kitchen, desperate at that point until you gasped. You searched for your first aid box and dug until you finally found a lost wrapper. You waved it victoriously as you strode back to your room and to bed, and Yoongi was there to receive you with a look you couldn’t identify. He grabbed your arm and threw you on the bed before pinning you down from between your legs and kissing you till you lost your breath.

If he wanted to fuck you before, now he wanted to screw you so hard you’d only ever remember his cock. To think you said you wanted to be with him the whole last year, and that you hadn’t been with anyone else because of it made him wild. Why had you both played it so safe? He had been to your apartment so many times, set you to sleep on that very same bed, and yet never once did he get the inkling that you wanted him. Not as he wanted you. But just now, you were dripping with how much you wanted him, squirming, begging for him to fuck you, and trying to rile him up so he would. You jolted at his fingers in your folds, rubbing your chest to his for any hint of a touch, moaning when he pulled your head back by your hair. You wanted him bad and he was going to give it to you.

He pulled away from you and you almost screamed in frustration, but seeing him putting the condom on cooled you just enough to stay quiet. Your hands even stayed above your head voluntarily as you waited patiently, thinking he wouldn’t waste that condom, he’d surely fuck you finally.

You moaned suddenly and looked down, confused for a second, but you weren’t dreaming. He was grabbing his cock and slapping your cunt with it right over your clit. You squirmed with need, but he kept doing it harder and harder, wet sounds echoing with your excitement.

“Fuck, I just knew it,” you mumbled, clenching around nothing right before his eyes.

“Knew what?”

“That you’d do that,” you moaned, hands tightly gripping each other so you would stay put.

He hummed as he did it quicker, seeing your slick connect to his cock, “That so? What else do you think I’ll do?”

You were burning all the way to your shoulders, trying to move with him so that his cock could give you friction, and he didn’t stop you. So you answered through gritted teeth, “Stick it in, get deep, fucking use me until I’m stuffed with your cum.”

Your voice disappeared with the lack of breath; he was dragging his cock over your clit now and it was the sweetest reward. 

“Filthy thoughts you’re having, hmm?” You were lost in your motion, rolling your hips to earn that friction so you gasped when he pushed his cock inside you, loving the burn as your core split to accommodate his girth. “Read my fucking mind.”

You screamed when he bottomed out, biting your lip with the way he was forcing himself inside you. Then you opened your eyes to see him and instantly clenched around him, and he smirked. 

“Been thinking about fucking me, huh?” You could barely hold a thought, but the opportunity to tease him was too sweet.

“It has crossed my mind,” he said and snapped his hips, and you didn’t know whether to gasp or moan. He’d hit you deep and hard, you knew he would, and it made you even tighter. His nails dag at your hips, “So many times.” He was starting slow but deep and you could do nothing but moan. “How you would moan, what you would want, how you would give in and let me take you,” every wish was pointed by a deep thrust. “Now look at you.” You looked down: your tits were bouncing with every hit, gushing sounds echoed along with your moans from how wet your heat was, and the sight of his thick cock pushing between your slit to enter you was the cherry on top. It was the can of cream about to blow you full, and you wanted to get filled. “Almost cuming even though I’ve barely started.”

“Cause you feel so good,” you breathed in a moan.

He leaned to grope your taunting tits, “You told me to use you.”

“Fuck, please.”

He gritted his teeth and adjusted you better so he could pick up the pace. And what a vicious pace it was, fast and steady, leaving you so hazed and lost, that you had no words. He slapped your tits around and you clenched, tears roaming your eyes with how good and sweet it was. It didn’t hurt, every touch sparkled pleasure in your veins, and the sight of him hitting and scratching, his squeezes on every bit of you only made you even more sensitive. More elated and euphoric, so much so you were mumbling more with every moan involuntarily. He was slapping and roughly marking your chest as you asked, and suddenly you threw your head back and looked at him.

“Harder,” you asked out of breath, and he slapped your tit so hard you screamed before moaning deeply. “Just not my face.”

You thought to tell him from within a glimpse of logic, and he nodded and took note of your limit. Instead, he leaned forward and groped both boobs again and you squirmed desperately.

“Squeeze,” you breathed, your moan pitching. He did, but it wasn’t enough, “Please!”

He did, a bit harder with every thrust into your messy cunt. It was maybe selfish, but he wanted to see how you unraveled. How you wanted those strong sensations, how you craved something more intense each time and with every bit of strength, you transformed it into a beautiful pleasure that had you bursting.

He saw you coming again, writhing around thoughtlessly with the intensity of your pleasure, so hard he didn’t have to look down to see you throbbing around his cock. He still did though, mesmerized by it, only to chuckle. You had left a ring of white around the base of his cock; you just had to have your way in the end.

He leaned in to kiss you through your haze, slowly sensing with his lips the condition you were in. At first, your reaction was delayed, the brush of your lips falling behind as you recovered. But then you reacted and pushed back against his tongue, and he knew you were good.

He pulled back and turned you around, and you helped and got on all fours instantly. He didn’t wait, he aimed his cock at you and entered your velvety embrace as soon as he could. You arched your back for him and pressed back into him a couple of times to feel him deeper, and he grinned.

“Finally. So obedient,” he taunted, squeezing your ass cheeks to spread for him.

“You’re finally fucking me senseless.”

Your voice was a whisper, and he smirked. You asked him to use you, and he was doing a good job at it. But now he wanted to make you scream, to mark you so hard you’d never be anything but his. He couldn’t help it; now that his cock was shoved deep inside you, he didn’t want anything else. Now that he knew what you tasted like, what you sounded like, and how filthy your mind and mouth could be, he wanted nothing else. He saw you trying to get him deeper, huffing and puffing as you swayed with him, and his chest tightened. The possessiveness you were inspiring in him was raw and dangerous, but he didn’t want to fight it.

So he gave you both what you wanted: he smacked your ass as he pounded into you, seeing the way it bounced in either direction until he couldn’t focus anymore. Until he was desperate to own you, to hear you scream, to know you’d beg for him forever. It wasn’t enough; no matter how hard you screamed, he wanted more and he wanted it to last. 

Grabbing your hair to pull it into showing the beautiful curve of your neck was a mistake, though. Suddenly he saw how beautiful you were, vulnerable and immersed in every sensation he gave to you. He wanted you to be his, and suddenly it hit him that you already were. And you loved it.

And it snapped his senses, overthrowing his strong grip on his pleasure as if he had never had any. He became sloppy but still held on to your hips to sink and cum as deeply inside you as he possibly could. He groaned with every peak, jerking to milk the sensation between your tight walls as best as he could until he stilled. Fuck, how the hell did you do that to him?

He noticed then you were trembling and his priorities immediately surfaced, “Are you okay?”

You hummed, but he wasn’t having it. He pulled out despite your whine and helped you to softly lay on your side. Then he hopped off the bed, dealt with the condom, and searched around for water and a snack.

You were still stunned, out from the intensity of the emotions that had tensed and relaxed your body simultaneously. Your soul didn’t know how to handle what just happened, and the only thing that occurred to you before he came back was that you had totally surrendered. You didn’t force yourself to be tame and quiet, or said and did what the other person wanted so you wouldn’t ruin it for them. You were yourself, through and through, and Yoongi fucking ate you up like dessert.

The bed dipped behind you and you turned to him, sighing happily when he pulled you in to snuggle.

“Here — water and chocolate.”

You glanced at the bottle and bar and smiled widely. Your heart was right all along, and although you knew it was definitely too soon, there were special words at the tip of your tongue trying to get out.

Instead, you let him insist and sit you up to take a sip of water and a bite before letting you fall back into his arms in a sweaty embrace that you wanted with all your heart.

He was kissing your head and tracing your arm quietly when you decided to tell him, “Next time cover me with cum.”

He raised an eyebrow as he glanced at you, and you pouted.

“Just… You wanted to know what I think about.”

“You think about that?”

“Sometimes.”

He smirked and squeezed you inside his arms, “What else have you been hiding from me?”

“You have no idea,” you laughed.

You were melting and relaxing into his touch as he pecked your head when he whispered, “Are we bad?”

Your heart hurt for a second, what? But then you realized what he was saying: your song. When you wrote a conversation you once imagined you both could have had:

You're bad, you liar. 

It's me who's bad, I know this bad desire, sugar.

So you chuckled and sang along to the melody, “What did you do to me, sugar?”

[strawberrysainz]

i can see you. max verstappen (18+)

“ you brush past me in the hallway / and you don't think i, i, i can see ya, do ya? ”

max verstappen x fem!wolff!reader

smut. don’t interact if you’re under 18. alcohol consumption, profanity.

Your eyes follow the box of gum being passed around in the car. You sit in the left backseat; the blacked out car is filled with four Mercedes employees that are painful strangers.

The girl next to you offers you a stick of the gum, which you accept gratefully. It’s Saturday morning, and your elbows bump against hers as you try to adjust your earphones.

The Fleetwood Mac album floats through your ears, bringing forward memories of being a little kid dancing in someone’s room to the CD. You must’ve been in between your mom and dad then. You tense slightly at the memory, and the rapid German that fills the car from the other four makes you feel soothed.

Entering the paddock, some summery song is floating through your AirPods, and the tune is hitting different today so you smile.

The photographers obviously take the opportunity that your smile brings to snap pictures (you’re usually grumpy) and you’re standing in front of Red Bull’s garage talking to some girls who work there that you clubbed with a while back when he walks out, brushing past, his fingers accidentally grazing your forearm.

You feel full of fire as you look away from the group to look at him and his eyes meet yours, looking back. The moment is interrupted by your mother calling on the phone, and you excuse yourself to go back to Mercedes’ motorhome.

🎱☕️🏎️💌

You two meet again in Austria.

This time you nod back when he walks past, nodding, and Christian Horner shouts something to Susie that has her fake laughing.

He wins the sprint race, and you catch a glimpse of him after, holding the trophy up in celebration in the paddock. He’s smiling widely, eyes full of laughter, and you’re not. You’re a blur of dark hair and dark eyes and a dismissive look across the pathway and he’s staring and you’re turning away, feeling burned.

That Sunday night (he wins the race) you find each other for a split second in the club; you’re talking to some guy and he yaps your ear off while you stare at him across the dance floor.

Then Max turns around and finds your face amongst the masses, indifferent before turning back.

You nod to the empty air.

🎱☕️🏎️💌

At Silverstone you’re much happier below the podium, and Lando pours champagne directly on your head from above as you screech.

Max watches.

You’re hugging Lewis afterwards when those icy eyes are on you again, and a feeling races through you as you turn around to shake his hand amicably. A bolt of energy rushes through you as his hand grasps yours, and you’re not sure what he says above the noise but you smile and say ‘well done’ like your father raised you.

🎱☕️🏎️💋

Budapest is warm. You see him on Wednesday night on the river.

You’re donning a short skirt and a strappy top, eager to curb the discomfort of the heat.

Lando had organised a boat trip down the Danube and invited you, some other drivers and his friends and all of their partners.

You don’t expect to see Max there; but you’re silly for doing so, because they’re close, aren’t they.

You’ve got an Aperol Spritz when he taps your upper thigh when you walk past and you look down, eyes wide, and he gestures for you to sit next to him.

You sit down on the cushion, legs folding beneath you gracefully as you have this urge to shift the skirt a little bit up your thighs innocently.

His gaze is heavy and intense as he trails it from your exposed thighs to your face, and you look at him neutrally, chatting about some paddock gossip, and to your surprise he acts as if nothing had happened, and indulges in your stupid small talk.

The Aperol disappears and you’re a bit buzzed.

“Your dad spoke to me about you the other day,” he says bluntly, and your lips quirk.

“Really? About what?”

He smirks.

You laugh.

🎱☕️🏎️💋

You’ve convinced him to get a beer in his system an hour later, and your head is resting on your hand, hair falling down as you listen to him talk about his cats.

Carlos comes to join then, and whatever he had going on with you disappears as he talks with the two of you.

You flirt with Carlos anyway, annoyed with the lack of action on his part.

Carlos gladly reciprocates, hand gliding up a thigh after you ask dumb questions and you bite a lip, eyes dark, and Max looks furious.

You lean in to whisper something in Carlos’ ear, red lipstick leaving a mark on his cheek when Max excuses himself and you move closer to the Spaniard, waving goodbye with a smirk on your face.

🎱☕️🏎️💋

You don’t kiss Carlos when the night ends, and you wave him a goodbye, turning to go, when you feel Max’s hand around your wrist.

You turn around and roll your eyes, beginning to walk to the Uber. Max doesn’t say anything, just gets in with you. You choose the middle seat, childishly brushing your bare thigh against his jeans.

You notice he’s screwing his eyes shut, physically refraining from something.

You feel like a teenager trying to seduce a guy and it’s working, you suppose, when you tuck your hair behind your ear, exposing your neck, and he stiffens.

Ten minutes later, at the back entrance of the hotel, you slide out, thanking the driver, and turn to look at Max with your eyebrows raised. He huffs and walks to you, shoving you against the wall.

His lips go to your neck, and you’re still, and he’s kissing you then, hard and intense, and your legs are weak when he slides a hand up your thigh.

You break away, pulling him away inside.

🎱☕️🏎️💋

Stumbling into the hotel room clumsily, he’s pushing you against the bathroom door, and you’re staring at his body against yours in the mirror, and he’s murmuring what a dirty girl you are and you’re shivering with excitement.

“Fuck you,” you whisper when he’s pulling off your top and bra, and he’s laughing incredulously when he’s leaning down and you’re moaning when he starts to brush his thumb against your nipple, and you’re all wriggly when you pull off his shirt and trace his stomach, eyes lidded.

Your eyes go down to his boxers where the outline of his cock is clear and you pull it out, thick and firm, the tip weeping as you brush it and he moans loudly, and he’s kissing you desperately and you’re so wet.

His fingers slide under your skirt and pull down your panties, and he glides his fingertips over your pussy quickly before you’re whining when he nudges your clit, and he’s kissing you again. Your back arches against the door.

He pushes into you and you’re both a mix of curses and delicious moans, and after a moment he begins to move, fast, and after a minute or so you’re screaming his name as he slams into you again and again.

He comes quickly; you smirk as his hips stutter, and his fingers find your clit before you’re begging him for things you can’t explain, and with a minute of his fingers circling your clit roughly, the thickness of his fingertips nudging you over and over with some kind of horrible preciseness, you come, hard. All over his hand. He’s kissing your neck again and again, and you’re staring at him for the first time clearly, this man you know nothing about, and his hand grips your hair as he kisses you again, and you feel alive.

🎱☕️🏎️💋

He’s waiting for you in a passage the next day, and you smile with a spring in your step as you walk straight past, hand touching his for a moment, watching him walk away in your peripheral.

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🎱☕️🏎️💋

part 2? thoughts? let me knooowww xxxx

[hearts4hughes]

I HATE IT HERE | JACK HUGHES

summary: in which her relationship with jack seems too good to be real. (0.7k words)

authors note: taylor really called out us delusional girlies and daydreamers with this song! it’s my favorite on the album and it deserves something so enjoy this very short writing!

"come on, don't be scared," jack chuckles as he slowly guides you. you look down, a suspiciously nice pair of skates clad to your feet.

"i'm going to fall!" you squeal, attempting to mimic the way he skates.

his giggle fills the cold air surrounding you. after a day of cozying up together in jack’s lake house, he gets the bright idea that he wants to teach you how to skate. after going to the store and buying you a pair of skates— that he won’t specify the price of— he leads you outside onto the ice. it takes you about ten minutes to even step foot onto the frozen death trap. but with your boyfriend’s persuasive smile and adorable face, you land yourself on the ice, anxiously moving your feet side to side.

"you're fine," he says, his hand moving to your waist. in the cold michigan evening, his hand on your waist sends warmth up your spine.

it all feels too surreal. from the dusting of snow around you to the romantic atmosphere, you feel like you're in one of your favorite romance novels. it all feels too familiar, and at the same time, your eyes scan around you, trying to treasure the moment.

jack stares up at you with a toothy grin. he looks at you like you’re the only girl in the world; like you hung the stars in the sky.

“what are you looking at, rowdy?” you say with a smug expression. his face flushes a deep maroon and his eyes fall to the ground. “going shy on me now, are we?”

“i feel like you’re forgetting who’s teaching you how to skate right now.” his hand falls down your waist, giving your butt a squeeze. your bottom lip juts out as he lets out a boyish grin.

“shut up and show me how to move faster.” you retort, though a pink blush still lingers on your cheeks.

jack takes one hand off of your waist, turning his body and slowly demonstrating how he pushes his leg out at an angle. he swiftly picks up speed as you hold onto him. it looks so simple. all it is, is the movement of his legs and feet, but as you try it, you slip, clinging to jack’s body and pulling him down with you.

somehow, his body hits the ice first and you land on top of him. your eyes are wide as you both look at each other. as the realization of what happens sets in, you both bark out in laughter. you snuggle your face into the crook of his neck, an attempt to silence your laughter.

“i love you so damn much.” he says in pure awe.

“i love you so damn much!” you mock him, lifting your head from his chest and staring at him below you.

his cheeks are pink from the cold and his hair a wavy mess that not even the winter hat on his head can hide. your eyes flick down to his lips. they look so plump and kissable.

you lower face, stopping just an inch above his lips. he smirks, “what are you waiting for?” his words are barely above a whisper, eliciting butterflies in your stomach.

but just as your lips press against his, you hear a distant voice.

“y/n?” mr. samson, your ap history teacher, calls out. “are you paying attention?”

you blink, looking around the classroom. you’re in high school, not michigan, and the boy nearest to you is not jack hughes. the realization sets in, causing a pit in your stomach. you suddenly feel nauseous.

had you daydreamed about a relationship with jack hughes once again? no, you couldn’t have. it seemed so real; it felt so real. it was almost like you could feel jack’s hands on your waist, leaving a permanent stain of warmth around your hips.

you swallowed harshly as everyone’s eyes followed you awaiting an answer. “y-yes.” your voice was shaky. people in the back of the classroom snickered at you as others furrowed their brows. your skin felt hot with embarrassment. it was nothing like the flush you felt when jack complimented you.

“ok then.” mr. samson said as he continued his lesson.

you sighed, grabbing your pencil and copying down the notes on the board. you pushed back the recollections of your daydream, putting them into one of the many secret gardens in your mind. they would stay there patiently awaiting until you unlocked and relived them again.

if only.

[most-normal-eccles-cake-ignorer]

Good Omens: Lockdown, Aziraphale’s SAD-ASS desk, and how they get to 'Our bookshop' in S2

Welcome to part 2 of me reading reeaally far into the Good Omens: Lockdown video! (part 1 from Crowley's POV here) This post assumes the item choices in the Lockdown visuals are intentional. What follows is going to be my headcanon regardless, but if you're into the Word of God, Lockdown is canon 'If you want it to be.' and I want it to be, sooo checkmate! >;D

Also this is something of a long boi (~13 minute read without following the links >.>), so if you're into unhinged analysis of details and literary references that indicate Aziraphale is in his longing era and want to learn more about author and fave-of-Gaiman, G.K. Chesterton, either get comfy or mark this to read later when you have time!

C: What? A: *somehow surprised even though HE CALLED* A-ah, hello. It's me! C: I know it's you, Aziraphale. A: *regaining composure* Yes, well, just calling to see how you were doing in lockdown.

The video starts with shots of Aziraphale and Crowley's da Vinci sketches (and some sushi remnants)... Babygirl is flipping through the time-goes-too-fast-for-me version of a facebook album, thinking about his crush. vERY chill of him. (also the paper looks new and he's eating on top of them, suggesting these are prints and he has multiple copies of them... sooo normal)

If we look closer at the still of Crowley's portrait, we can see part of the spine of a book that reads Kei- Chesterto-. This is, of course, author Gilbert Keith Chesterton, to whom Neil and Terry (and Crowley) dedicated Good Omens:

The authors would like to join the demon Crowley in dedicating this book to the memory of G. K. Chesterton A man who knew what was going on.

In this post by @azfellandco about Chesterton, you can see a photo of the dedication page and also read the book excerpt where Crowley describes Chesterton as 'the only poet in the twentieth century to even come close to the Truth'.

C: I'm bored. I'm so very very bored - transcendentally bored. There's nothing to do here!

As Crowley is explaining his nap contingency plan, we get a shot of Aziraphale picking up his mug of hot chocolate, then the image below of the 2/3rds gone bottle of Courvoisier cognac (i mean maybe he is baking with it let's not jump to conclusions), and then the stack of books beside a framed woodcut print of witches dancing with devils...

...that I used reverse image search to trace back to page 17 of a book from 1720 called The history of witches and wizards: giving a true account of all their tryals in England, Scotland, Swedeland, France, and New England; with their confession and condemnation.

Interestingly, the text above and below the picture reads:

At their Meeting they have usually Wine, or good Beer, Cakes, Meat, or the like; they Eat and Drink really: When they meet in their Bodies, Dance also, and have Musick...

Beside the framed print of Aziraphale's idea of a really great night out is a stack of books that includes (going from top to bottom):

Homer's The Iliad, Book 2

Orthodoxy by G.K. Chesterton

Forbidden Rites: A Necromancer's Manual of the Fifteenth Century by Richard Kieckhefer

a book by Hilaire Belloc with no visible title

The Club of Queer Trades by G.K. Chesterton

The Iliad (according to sparknotes) has the following major themes:

....Interesting, ok. Book 2 in particular starts with a god (Zeus) messing with someone (Agamemnon) via a dream that says he will be successful in taking Troy if he launches a full assault, balls to the (city) wall. Agamemnon, who is supposed to be leading the Achaean army to conquer Troy, believes the dream but then in a weird twist decides to test his army and be like 'jk actually I'm giving up and going home' and then is mad when the soldiers are like 'sick, to the boats!' Then Odysseus, who sparknotes tells me is the most eloquent of the Achaeans, gives an impressive speech to inspire the troops and reminds them that they vowed 'that they would not abandon their struggle until the city fell.' ...No way that could worsen Aziraphale's internal conflict about being a bad Angel who thwarted the Great Plan. >.>; Orthodoxy we'll get to in a second.

Then there's Forbidden Rites which is a medieval necromancy guide translated from Latin with added commentary - Aziraphale is perhaps studying occult topics in an attempt to understand Crowley better? And then there's the Hilaire Belloc book on top of the second Chesterton book, a collection of related stories/episodes?, The Club of Queer Trades. The book's Wikipedia page says:

Each story in the collection is centered on a person who is making his living by some novel and extraordinary means. To gain admittance [to the Club of Queer Trades] one must have invented a unique means of earning a living and the subsequent trade being the main source of income.

Aziraphale and Crowley have rather novel/extraordinary jobs and they're both peculiar-queer and gay-queer. Neat. The narrator in the book is named Charlie "Cherub" Swinburne - also neat. >.> He goes on an adventure with his friend, a retired judge and president of the Club of Queer Trades, Basil Grant, (who Oct 2021 GoodReads reviewer Cecily said is "described as mad, mystical, and a poet, with almost no friends, but who “would talk to any one anywhere”) and Basil's younger brother, a private detective named Inspector Constable Rupert Grant. The last line of the book is:

Thus our epic ended where it had begun, like a true cycle. (something something "It starts, as it will end, with a garden.")

Anyway, the Belloc book and The Club of Queer Trades are placed back to back in such a way that they almost look like they could be one book with two different aesthetics, or... two halves of a pantomime beast?! (stay with me I needed a segue)

Belloc and Chesterton have what is essentially a ship name:

It was coined by George Bernard Shaw (if you are like me and didn't know why you've heard of him: he wrote, among other things, Pygmalion, which was adapted into My Fair Lady). Shaw apparently liked to gossip about Belloc and Chesterton with H.G. Wells (again if you're uncultured like me: he wrote, among other science fiction-y things, The War of the Worlds).

In the Feb 15, 1908 issue of The New Age newspaper, Shaw said:

He continued:

"Chesterton and Belloc are so unlike that they get frightfully into one another’s way. ... They are unlike in everything except the specific literary genius and delight in play-acting that is common to them, and that threw them into one another’s arms.”

Shaw says Belloc is 'a bit of a rowdy', and 'cannot bear isolation'. Hmm. Then he says Chesterton is 'friendly, easy-going, unaffected, gentle, magnanimous, and genuinely democratic'. HMM.

“They share one failing—almost the only specific trait they have in common except their literary talent. That failing is, I grieve to say, addiction to the pleasures of the table.”

Ok ok I think we can see where this is going.

(^ from Staged S3E6)

Now, someone did ask Neil Gaiman about this similarity, and he said the Lockdown video was filmed by Rob Wilkins in Terry Pratchett's library, and that he suspects 'Belloc is there because he was on Terry's shelves beside Chesterton.' And it MAY VERY WELL BE that NONE (0) of the book titles are meant in any way other than 'these are books from Sir Pratchett's library that looked nice on camera and ofc we wanted some Chesterton refs and maybe some demon-y stuff for Crowley' but that is WAY less fun so I am choosing to take them as intentional: these are books Aziraphale is actually reading (along with the sushi and many cakes he is actually eating). Let's put ourselves in Aziraphale's shoes and try to imagine how it would be to read this stuff during lockdown while you pine for a demon with slinky hips after you got in big trouble at work for Armageddoff (and work happens to have defined your worldview and general purpose in life).

C: welll... ngk then people might follow my bad example and get ill. Or even die—

As Crowley acknowledges that he ought to be out making peoples' lives worse, we see Orthodoxy by Chesterton open on the desk.

Orthodoxy is described as a ‘spiritual autobiography’ and is considered a classic of Christian apologetics, i.e. the religious discipline of defending religious doctrines (in this case, Catholic) through systematic argumentation and discourse. Wikipedia also says Chesterton's The Everlasting Man contributed to C.S. Lewis' conversion to Christianity, so overall it sounds like he must've been fairly convincing. (and so maybe reading it also poked at that work-related-but-religious-trauma-adjacent stuff Aziraphale has going on?)

You can read Orthodoxy (and probably any of the books I mention bc theyre all old) on project gutenberg but I will include this part of what is shown on the righthand page bc it just reminds me (and so probably Azirapalala as well) of a certain angel squeaking happily at a nebula:

"I felt economical about the stars as if they were sapphires (they are called so in Milton's Eden): I hoarded the hills. For the universe is a single jewel, and while it is a natural cant to talk of a jewel as peerless and priceless, of this jewel it is literally true. This cosmos is indeed without peer and without price: for there cannot be another one."

Ok great, so Aziraphale is diving into the works of one of Crowley's favorite authors bc he misses him, that's cute. What else? Oh he already wrote him a letter right before calling - THE WICK ON THE WAX STICK FOR THE SEAL IS STILL SMOKING. sO CASUAL asdashgfjds

something something 'either call on the phone and talk, or appear mysteriously; don't do both'

When Aziraphale gets to 'I've never had so few customers, not in two hundred years!' We get a close up of this glass of cognac with droplets still on the side — I take back what I said about baking, Aziraphale is drinking it~

He's not drinking a wine, eg Châteauneuf-du-pape, which would be ~14% alcohol by volume (ABV), or a sherry (15-20% ABV); he is drinking Courvoisier cognac, a hard liquor (40% ABV). Crowley's Talisker whisky is 48.5% while we are on the topic. This is stronger than what Aziraphale usually drinks which means... he could be a bit tipsy.

As Aziraphale starts talking about the would-be cash-box burglary, we get this wide shot of the desk:

In the top left hand corner, we see two stacks of books, most (all?) of which appear to be Chesterton when I zoom in. Some of them have Chesterton's name visible on them, others have the publisher name 'Darwen Finlayson' on them, which according to my googling is a house that published several of Chesterton's works. If Chesterton was truly 'a man who knew what was going on', then perhaps this is Aziraphale seeking not just to feel closer to Crowley, but also to make sense of the warring ideas in his mind. Interestingly, Chesterton has also been described as 'The Eccentric Prince of Paradox'.

C: *clearly amused* Did you smite them with your wroth?

The screen then shows two occult-y books and a flickering candle (lower left image). Then Aziraphale explains about his cake~, and as Crowley cuts him off because he's about to nervously ask to come over bc he is so so lonely & down bad for a certain angelic bookworm, we see a map of Oxfordshire on top of Pilgrim's Progress (lower right image).

The two books beside the candle are Satanism and Witchcraft (presumably the 1862 book by Jules Michelet that comes up when I search the title), and another called Magic: An Occult Primer.

Satanism and Witchcraft is described on Wikipedia as 'notable for being one of the first sympathetic histories of witchcraft' and says 'Michelet was one of the first few people to attempt to show the sociological explanation of the Witch Trials.’ Sympathy for people who like to eat/drink/dance with demons, if you will?

Magic: An Occult Primer is a 1972 book by David Conway, a Welsh (CACHU HWCH!) magus and is described as 'a seminal work that brought magical training to the every-magician'. It also includes an appendix called The Occult Who's Who, which is somewhat reminiscent of Hastur's Furfur's book about angels. In Chapter 11: A Word About Demons, it says in regard to summoning them:

"Assuming that the form has turned up in the right place, it will soon begin to act and talk in a very friendly manner; do not forget, however, that its winning ways conceal a sinister intention-- namely, to get the adept out of the circle, and into its clutches.”

...okay?? Aziraphale's desk has a flickering candle on it throughout the video, and we get a close up of the flame when Crowley offers to slither over:

and just like that, Aziraphale has summoned a demon~~

Naturally, he freaks out:

A: *panicking*Oh I— I— I— I— I'm afraid that would be Breaking All The Rules! *nervous breathing* Out of the question! I'll see you… when this is over.

But why? Isn't this what he wanted? Let's go back to the Pilgrim's Progress shot from right before the successful demon summoning and zoom in:

In a similar vein to Orthodoxy, Pilgrim's Progress, by John Bunyan, is an allegorical Puritan conversion narrative. Christian is the main character / stand in for anyone who wants to be in the allegory and Hopeful is well, hopeful, from what I gather. A slightly larger continuous excerpt is here for the curious, but here are some bits I thought were especially interesting in the part of the book shown above:

Christian: Why, what was it that brought your sins to mind again? Hopeful: Many things; as, If I did but meet a good man in the streets; or, If I have heard any read in the Bible; or, If mine head did begin to ache; or, If I were told that some of my neighbors were sick; or, If I heard the bell toll for some that were dead; or, If I thought of dying myself; or, If I heard that sudden death happened to others; But especially when I thought of myself that I must quickly come to judgment.

Perhaps the pandemic is bringing Aziraphale's "sins" to mind again, on top of the whole choosing faces thing to avoid 'quickly coming to judgment'. And then:

Hopeful: I thought I must endeavor to mend my life; for else, thought I, I am sure to be lost forever. Christian: And did you endeavor to mend? Hopeful: Yes, and fled from not only my sins, but sinful company too, and betook me to religious duties, as praying, reading, weeping for sin, speaking truth to my neighbors, etc.

UM??? While I can't say about the praying or weeping for sin, he has definitely been reading and the whole 'giving a good talking to' the burglars could be 'speaking truth to [the] neighbors'...?

Anyway to recap:

Aziraphale has been poring over books about dark magic and demons as well as a ton of books by an author that Crowley loves and who formed a partnership w a very different person in a sort of yin-yang, pantomime beast situation

He has been looking at pictures that remind him of their fun times w Leo in Florence and eating sushi and cake cake cake (and forgiving sinners) and drinking hot chocolate and cognac trying to fill a void but now he's tipsy so he wrote Crowley a letter, stamped it with a wax seal and then thought 'I should call her' BUT

His recent brush with attempted death penalties, the death toll of the pandemic, and some of the religious books he was reading have also filled him with guilt/fear over disobeying Heaven, who he knows could still be watching him and Crowley, so he feels much more conflicted than usual AND

He probably has some inkling that he wants to go ape shit on that ox rib if it comes over to hang out (lol editing to add bc i remembered ox rib discourse: ape shit in an emotional way! whether you hc them as ace or not I just think he really likes him and I’m using ox ribs as a stand in for general forbidden joy/love, not specifically sexy stuff)

So he has to say no.

Anything else might cause him to spontaneously discorporate into a plume of pining and cognitively dissonant gay smoke, which may be all well and good if you only think there's a God, but if you KNOW it and the angels are absolutely recording you and Heaven just tried to kill you and your wife colleague, it's... kind of a big deal.

C: Right. gnnehh. I'm setting the alarm clock for July. Good night, angel. *dial tone*

We don't get to hear Aziraphale's response, but besties you and I both know he is not feeling tickety-boo. He spent like a month putting off calling Crowley (UK lockdowns started end of March, the call is at the beginning of May), finally got drunk and said what the Hell, it'll just be a fun flirty chat in between his temptations, and then it turned out Crowley was depressed and not going anywhere and Aziraphale made him even sadder. And then it got worse because it wasn't all over in July, or in October, even.

I think Aziraphale ends up with a lot of time and brain space in which to think about how Orthodoxy and Pilgrim's Progress were only written to guide *mortals* and how it really wouldn't be so bad if he spent more time with Crowley, would it? Heaven hasn't reached out in actual years again, things feel safer. Crowley is essentially Good and spending time with him would be sort of ministering to the downtrodden and afflicted, and Aziraphale does miss reporting his good deeds (lol you know, whatever rationalizations you need to get you there).

More than anything, he thinks about how hollow everything feels without Crowley; how no mouthful of food or drink tastes as satisfying in his absence because it wasn't ever just about the 'gross matter'...

So when lockdowns end, Aziraphale begins to summon his demon again, but this time with much less inner struggling. It all comes so naturally, when you let it. By the beginning of Season 2 in 2023, they seem delightfully comfortable with their shared routines and places (see also this lovely post by @nightgoodomens). Our car. Our bookshop.

Aziraphale might take longer to catch up, but he does get there.

(SHHH DON'T THINK ABOUT EPISODE 6! STOP! I'M HANGING UP!)

“The way to love anything is to realize that it may be lost.” ― G.K. Chesterton

[something-tofightfor]

Fool's Gold - Intro

Pairing: Pirate Oberyn Martell x Female Reader (with a twist)

Rating: M for now - but that will change later.

Word Count: 2,266

Summary: An accident on the open waters of The Narrow Sea leads you to a crossroads ... but not everything is as simple as it seems.

Author's Note: This story is what happens when I get fixated on a band and listen ONLY to their albums for two months straight. The title - and the overarching tone of this story are thanks to Caligula's Horse (specifically the Bloom and Charcoal Grace albums). The title comes from a song called "Marigold".

But it's also inspired by Pedro's SAG awards look because anyone that looked at that and didn't immediately think 'PIRATE!' must have been looking at a different outfit than I was.

Thank you to the people that have listened to me talk about this story for the last month - and that encouraged me to continue writing it. I hope you like it.

You woke from a deep sleep to the feeling of the ship shuddering, the motion so strong it nearly knocked you out of bed. 

It only took you seconds to get your bearings. As soon as you were able to, you pulled on your boots and hurried up the stairs to the top deck, holding your blanket tight around your shoulders. What you hadn’t expected to find was disorder; the ship’s crew hurrying back and forth across the flat space, shouting to each other and pointing up. 

You looked up, too, gasping at the sight. One of the masts was charred, the sails attached to it in flames that threatened to spread to the others if not contained. The crow’s nest is gone. Blinking slowly and then reaching up to swipe at your face with one hand, you shivered. 

It was still raining - the storm that had started before you went to sleep hadn’t let up. For a few seconds, you thought that maybe the water would help to extinguish the flames. But when a sudden gust of wind pushed them forward and toward the other sails, you knew it was unlikely. 

“You need to go back to your room.” A sailor gripped your shoulder, startling you out of your thoughts. “Stay below deck. It’s safer there.” He was young, and when you turned your head to look at him, you saw fear in his eyes. “Let me help y-”

“What happened?” You yelled the words, hoping to be heard above the sounds around you. “Why is the ship on fire?”

“Lightning!” He pointed up just as another flash across the sky seemed to confirm his explanation. “A lightning strike.” It made sense; with nothing else on the open sea, the tall masts of the ship were bound to attract the storms. 

“Will we sink?” You wiped at your face again, blinking as much of the water away as you could. “Should I prepare for -”

“No!” He whipped his head back and forth. “This ship will not sink. We will get you safely to King’s Landing and then to Oldtown, m’lady.” He dipped his head and you fought against rolling your eyes at the title. “Go back inside.” He pointed. “Get warm and dry. We’ll be fine by morning.” 

There was no reason to argue and so you didn’t, retreating back into the corridor that led to your room after taking one more look up and at the sky. 

You didn’t believe the sailor. You’d seen enough fires to know that even if they were able to put the flames out, the ship would be crippled for days and destined to drift across the Narrow Sea until someone found you. 

The route was typically safe; Braavos to King’s Landing was well traveled, so you knew that the likelihood of someone finding the ship and assisting you to port was high. But the ones who find us may not be the right people. 

There were pirates on the waters; fewer now than there had been, but it was still worrisome - especially with what you carried on the ship in locked trunks. Taking a few steadying breaths when you reached your quarters again, you looked around the room and then made a decision. 

After changing from your nightclothes to your everyday ones, you began to secure your valuables in the hidden spaces within your dress. A locket that you wore regularly was stashed in a small pocket at your waist. The ring from your mother’s mother took its place in a smaller pocket located near the buttons at the front of your clothes. A palm-sized wood carving of two birds was harder to conceal, and instead of attempting to hide it, you simply put it - along with a small dagger and a few other trinkets from home into a purse that you secured at your waist on a belt. 

You put your boots back on, lining the soles with all of the coins you carried with you and then laced them tightly, curling your toes at the uncomfortable sensation. I almost forgot. With a gasp, you opened the inner drawer of your table, fingers closing around the small, rectangular piece of metal that Wyllam had ensured you’d received. I cannot forget this. 

If there was one thing that your parents had instilled in you about the trip, it was to prepare yourself for anything. Traveling from Braavos to King’s Landing by ship and then by coach from the capital to your final destination was a long journey, but you’d have your guardsmen when and if you needed them … and even when you didn’t. And that’s why I have this token.

The ship shuddered again, and you reached out to steady yourself, sniffing at the air and frowning. The smoke smelled thicker, and so you left the room a second time. Instead of going back to the upper deck, you headed for the small roost near the stern of the ship where the ravens were kept. It didn’t take you long to pen a note and attach it to the leg of your raven, the one you’d raised from the moment it hatched - sending it out the small window and back to your parents. 

We hit storms. The ship is ablaze two nights in. I may be delayed. I’ll update you when we reach King’s Landing. 

You watched the bird disappear into the darkness, gasping when a piece of flaming debris fell in front of the window and hit the sea. That doesn’t look like a sail. Staring for a few seconds at the churning water, your attention was drawn up and toward the sky at the sound of a low roar. What is that? 

The beating of your heart quickened, but you didn’t look away, and when there was another flash of lightning, you saw the unmistakable outline of something massive in the sky - something that you’d been raised to believe was impossible. 

“A dragon.” You gripped the edge of the windowsill, unblinking. The next time you saw the creature, it was much closer, wings flapping to bring it nearer. You didn’t need lightning to see what it did then, screeching again and then opening its mouth to release a stream of fire in your direction. 

It wasn’t a storm that had damaged the ship. It wasn’t the lightning that set the fire, or threatened the lives of you and the crew. It was something much more dangerous and unpredictable.

You heard the roar of the flames from above you, coupled with the screams of the crew, and with shaking fingers, reached for a quill and another slip of paper. The second note you wrote was much messier than the first, though it was longer. 

My previous message was incorrect. It wasn’t a storm. We were attacked by a dragon, I saw it with my own eyes. The Sea Spider - and everyone on her - are in trouble. Two nights into our voyage from Braavos to King’s Landing, and everything is on fire. 

You winced at another roar from the sky, and then braced yourself for impact… but it never came. Returning to your note, you finished it off, scrawling your name and your age, along with the names of your parents, and then reached for another raven - that one marked with the sigil of King’s Landing. Fly well, messenger.

It disappeared into the pouring rain, and when you couldn’t see it anymore, you stared into the darkness, shivering. There was nothing more you could do, except wait - and hope - both of which could be done in your room. 

But even those plans changed a few minutes later when a different crewman burst through your door, his eyes wild. “We’re abandoning ship! She’s sinking.” He reached out, wrapping his fingers around your wrist and dragged you up to the top deck. 

It was chaos, and nothing could have prepared you for the sight of the completely destroyed masts and fierce flames, the scorched wood of the top deck smoldering in places. There was another screech from above you, and the crewman pushed you forward before spinning away, heading back inside. 

You were terrified. Assessing your surroundings didn’t help anything, though. Your eyes moved over the different groups of people that were working hard to free the few smaller rafts stacked alongside the outer wall while the ship’s hull disappeared slowly beneath the roiling surface. I’m going to die on this ship. 

The realization didn’t alarm you the way you’d assumed it would. Instead, you felt a sense of relief - dying at sea meant that you didn’t have to go through with the plans that had been laid out for you, but it also meant that choosing not to go through with them wouldn’t be your fault. 

With a growing sense of calm, you headed to the railing of the ship and gripped it, taking a few deep breaths as you felt the slope of the deck grow steeper. 

Your family name wouldn’t be tarnished. Your parents would be allowed to freely mourn you, and would still potentially receive at least some of the benefits that they’d been promised by signing your marriage contract. You had no siblings, which meant that none of your sisters would be forced to take your place. All things considered, it was one of the best possible outcomes. Even though I won’t be here to make the most of it. 

The seawater was creeping closer to where you stood, and even as you looked up to see what the rest of the crew was doing, you didn’t move, watching as they struggled to cut the ropes holding the boats down while keeping their balance. 

But when you heard screams, you whipped your head back and turned your eyes to the sky, mouth falling open at the sight of the returning dragon. That time, you felt the breeze from the beating of its wings, the moving air propelling the flames forward and causing them to engulf more of the ship’s deck. And when you saw it open its mouth and reposition its body, you knew what was coming. This is it. 

You thought of your parents’ faces as you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath and preparing for the burn … but it never came. 

Instead, you felt a wave of heat that pushed you backwards, your hip slamming into the railing and both hands shooting out to balance yourself as a gasp was forced from your lungs. 

The rest of the ship was aflame, and as more and more of it slid beneath the surface of the water, you caught sight of one of the crew members pushing a boat overboard before he was snatched up in the jaws of the flying beast, his screams echoing in your ears.

Your body made the decision for you then, deciding that it wanted to live no matter what that meant, and you dove overboard, the chill of the sea making you gasp. When you surfaced, you spun quickly in the water, searching for the ship - and the boat that had been pushed from it and into the waves.. 

But the dragon was back - and that time, it had a partner. The two creatures swooped and dove, sending short blasts of fire at the crewmembers still on the deck, some of them jumping into the sea as they were consumed by flames. 

You didn’t know if it was the ocean water or actual tears that were running down your face, but you forced yourself to look away and search for anything to keep you afloat once your arms and legs tired. Your skirts weighed you down, and you knew that if you didn’t have any luck soon, it wouldn’t matter. Seven hells, please just…

Spluttering as you propelled yourself through the water and away from the flaming remnants of the Sea Spider, you cried out as something made contact with the back of your head - a searing pain radiating through your skull. 

You went under, the pain overtaking all of your senses, and when you resurfaced again, your eyes were wide and wild, the pain still present and actually growing worse as you flailed and coughed, trying to clear the seawater from your lungs. 

But through it all, you searched for the source of the impact, and were rewarded with the sight of the small boat, bobbing against the waves. Taking action required all of your concentration, and even then, it doubled and then tripled in your vision as you started to swim toward it. 

It took everything in you to grab the edge of the boat and hoist yourself up and inside of it. You gasped out a breath as you collapsed against the bottom, curling up in an attempt to make yourself as small as possible and hoping that the dragons wouldn’t pay attention to you or the tiny vessel. 

You were in an agonizing amount of pain - head pounding and your limbs weak, but you raised a hand to the back of your skull, prodding at the space where you’d been hit. It came away wet, and when you used the light of the burning ship to look at your fingers, you could tell that they were covered in blood. At least if I die, it won’t be by dragon or drowning. Your hand fell, thunking against the curved wood of the small boat’s hull, and you sighed, closing your eyes.

The screams of the crew and the crackling of the fire continued, but you heard none of it - because you were unconscious. 

—

[glittergroovy]

[spookiesmausoleum]

𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐓𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 : 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐄𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬

I've been listening to the album nonstop so I wanted to put together some starters based on Vessel's lyrical talent - it's going to be a long one. Feel free to mix and match and add context around the quotes! Please remember to specify muse for multis and change pronouns as needed.

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃

"I come as a blade, a sacred guardian, so keep me sharp and test my worth in blood."

"I'd turn my walls to gold to bring you home again."

"We act out of our holy duty to be constantly awake."

"You've got me in a chokehold."

"Even if it hurts me, even if I can't sleep, show me the way."

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆

"I've got a river running right into you - I've got a blood trail, red in the blue."

"Something you say or something you do is a taste of the Divine."

"You've got my body, flesh and bone; the sky above, the Earth below."

"Raise me up again, take me past the edge - I want to see the other side."

"Oh, and my love, did I mistake you for a sign from God?"

"Are you really here to cut me off? Or maybe just to turn me on."

"'Cause these days I would be lying if I told you that I didn't wish that I could be your man."

𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄

"You won't ever have to talk about it, you'll never wanna talk about it."

"You were more than just somebody I was destined to meet."

"Never mind the death threats, parting at the door; we'd rather be six feet under than be lonely."

"You only drink the water when you think it's holy."

"You gave me nothing whatsoever but a reason to leave."

"You say you want me, but you know I'm not what you need - But I am."

𝐀𝐐𝐔𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐀

"Well, my love is an animal call; cutting through the darkness, bouncing off the walls."

"These days I'm a circuit board: integrated hardware you cannot afford."

"Well, my past is a holy book - Between the pain and the way you look, I'm stuck in a time where the mountains shook."

"Oh and I am done dancing to alarm bells; no wonder my ears are still ringing."

"I am done fighting off change."

𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐄

"You have become the voice in my head."

"My life is torn, my bones, they bleed - My metaphors fall short in the end."

"Are you in pain like I am?"

"Will we remain stuck in the throat of Gods? Will the pain stop if we go deeper?"

"I want to go where nobody else will ever go."

"Follow me between the jaws of fate."

"I want to have you to myself for once."

𝐀𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐌

"I know what you want from me."

"You want someone to be your reflection, your bitter deception … Setting you free; so you'll take what you want and leave."

"Who made you like this?"

"Who encrypted your dark gospel in body language?"

"Tell me you guessed my future and it mapped onto your fantasy. Turn me into your mannequin and I'll turn you into my puppet queen."

"Won't you come and dance in the dark with me?"

"Show me what you are, I am desperate to know."

"Be the first to the feast, let's choke on the past."

"And I know what you want from me … You want the same as me."

"You make me wish I could disappear."

𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐎𝐊𝐀𝐘?

"I caught you reading by the sunrise; you wandered from the path through the silence of the hillside."

"Are you really okay?"

"I saw it in your eyes; cutting deeper than the scars could run."

"I want to help you but I don't know how."

"I cannot fix your wounds this time."

"I don't believe you when you tell me you are fine."

"Please don't hurt yourself again."

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

"Why are you never real?"

"I know that you will disappear just as I awake."

"Somewhere in the past, something was between you and I, my dear."

"No matter what I do this scar will never fade."

"I make the most of the turning tide."

"Don't wait, 'cause this could be the last time you turn up in the reveries of my mind."

"The shifting states you follow me through are unrevealed."

"Just let me go or take me with you."

𝐃𝐘𝐖𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐌

"Do you pull at the chains? Or do you push into constant aching?"

"Do you wish that you loved me?"

"Is there something you give that you will never receive in return?"

"Why are you trying to live like everything is a lesson to learn?"

"Can you ever forgive yourself?"

"I would turn into a stranger in an instant if I could."

"My reflection just won't smile back at me like I know it should."

"Maybe it's not that you conceal your feelings, it's just that they just don't exist"

"Do you ever believe that we can turn into different people?"

"Is it better to just not feel?"

"I've tried so hard to fix it all, but nothing seems to help, but I cannot hope to give you what I cannot give myself."

"Smile back at me, please."

𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍

"I almost became just a stoic statue, fit for nobody."

"The vicious cycle was over the moment you smiled at me."

"Just like the rain you cast the dust into nothing, and wash out the salt from my hands."

"Touch me again."

"Will you cleanse me with pleasure?"

"I'm coiled up like the venomous serpent."

"I'm tangled in your trance and I'm certain that you've got your hooks in me."

"I know that I am what I am; the mouth of the wolf, the eyes of the lamb."

"Maybe it's all just a game."

"When I open my eyes to the future I can hear you say my name."

"Rain down on me."

𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐍

"I see you drifting past the fog, but no one told you where to go."

"We dive through crystal waters, perfect oceans, but no one told me not to breathe."

"My, my, those eyes like fire - I'm a winged insect, you're a funeral pyre."

"I'm a waking Hell and the Gods grow tired."

"Grow back your sharpest teeth, you know my desire."

"Take me back to Eden."

"I need you to see me for what I have become."

"we've no idea what we've got until we lose it. And no amount of love will keep it around if we don't choose it."

"I don't know what's got its teeth in me but I'm about to bite back in anger."

"No amount of self-sought fury will bring back the glory of innocence."

𝐄𝐔𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐃

"I've got a ghost in the hallway grinning and a heavy head that won't stop turning."

"Give me one last ride on a sunset sky lane."

"I can feel the walls around me closing in."

"I hope to God you don't know this feeling."

"Yet in reverse, you are all my symmetry; a parallel I would lay my life on."

"If your wings won't find you Heaven, I will bring it down like an ancient bygone."

"I need to leave this part of me behind."

"Do you still believe that nothing else matters?"

"For me: It's still the autumn leaves, these ancient canopies that we used to lay beneath."

"We tangle endlessly like lovers entwined."

"You will not be mine."

"The Night Belongs to You."

[bump1nthen1ght]

A Very Monstrous Kinktober: Day 17 (Threesome)

Kink: Threesome

Pairing: Incubus x Male!Reader x Succubus

Other Kinks: Praise Kink, Deepthroating, Cum Swallowing, Ass Eating

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1087 words

Kinktober Masterlist

Living with your partners came with many pros. Amaris was a spectacular good cook, and loved to make big meals for everyone to share. Martiz was very tidy, if a little overbearing about chores, but always keeps the apartment near spotless. Even if the bed could feel a little cramped with all 3 of you in it, it also meant you could snuggle in close, sleeping like kittens in a basket. All in all, getting this apartment together felt like a dream come true.

Especially right now.

“You look so cute right now.” Amaris purrs, thumb pressing down on your outstretched tongue. Even with your vision blurry, her playful smirk is clear as day. There's a brief flash of her camera as she coos some more. “This is definitely going in my favorites.”

“S-send it to me.” Martiz pants from the back, hands locked on your hips as he slowly stretches open your asshole. “I wanna see what he looks like.”

“I’ll put it in the shared album.” Amaris taps a couple times, then turns the phone around to show you. “Aren’t you adorable, babe?” She brushes her thumb across your bottom lip. You nod, choking out another moan as Martiz focuses on your prostate, balls slapping against your skin with each thrust.

Amaris smirks wide, sitting up and playing with the hem of her black panties. “How about we put that mouth to use, huh?” Amaris lays hackles, legs thrown up as she shuffles down her underwear. Martiz coos from behind.

“Yeah, eat that pussy, slut.” Martiz gives you a hard spank, no doubt leaving a palm shaped bruise on your ass.

You nod eagerly, Amaris shuffling forward to line her pussy lips with your mouth. Her calves get thrown over your shoulders and you quickly bury your face in her cunt. Thighs clenching around your ears, Amaris moans, languid and high-pitched.

“Tug on his hair, he likes that.” Martiz stutters, circling his hips so his cockhead plays with your prostate. Amaris quickly cards her fingers along your scalp, yanking you impossibly closer to her sex. With your tongue licking around her entrance, you move up to begin sucking in her clit, hands already clenched around the sheets below.

“Hmmm, good boy.” Amaris purrs, her slick juices running down your jaw. “Always know how to-” Amaris mews as you finally shove your tongue inside her hole, “-m-make me feel good.”

Your groans vibrate her pussy, making Amaris toss her head back. Precum drips down from your unattended cock, burning with a desire to be touched. Your sex demon partners must be influencing you, because even with a cock blowing your back out and tongue deep in pussy, you still need more.

“Gimme a kiss, babe.” Martiz pants, cock throbbing inside you. “Kiss me while I come in our boyfriend.”

Amaris just nods, keeping her thighs clenched around your head as she sits upward. The tight grip on your scalp keeps you in place at her sex, her breasts pressing against your forehead when she leans upward. Martiz chest presses against your back and you hear the sound of their sloppy kisses. Your two lovers pants above you, Amaris’ pussy walls gripping your tongue as Martiz hips stutter.

Their moans are suppressed by their kiss as they both cum, slick and semen exploding inside you and around your mouth as they both ride out the rest of their highs, canting their lower halves into you.

There's two pops as both of them detach, strings of cum connecting you from both ends. Amaris whispers sweet nothings in your ear as she sits back on her haunches, Martiz kissing a line down your spine. A manicured hand tilts your jaw upwards, looking at Amaris glowing eyes.

“Don’t worry, baby, we didn’t forget about you.”

Martiz makes their intentions clear first, circling his tongue around your stretched out ass, palming at your cheeks. You whimper in Amaris' grip, making her smile. She slides down to her stomach, then flips on her back and taps on your chest, indicating you to sit up on your elbows. As you do she shuffles underneath head first, eyeing your weeping cock.

Amaris wastes no time, deep throating your cock just as Martiz begins tongue fucking your hole. Your whole body shakes, lips bleeding as you bite into them. Amaris chuckles around your cock, tongue lathering the shaft as she sucks you down to your base. Knowing about her lack of a gag reflex, you begin humping down and into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat easily.

Martiz keeps a firm grip on your hips, but lets you throw them with your thrusts, just nuzzling his face deeper so he can play with your prostate.

The pleasure from all sides is the perfect kind of overwhelming, that tempting orgasm coming to a peak rather quickly. Precum gushes down your cock and paints the back of Amaris throat, which she gobbles up with fervor. It doesn’t help that the heady smell of her pussy, still sticky with her cum and your saliva, lies tantalizingly below your face. Normally this would be the perfect time to bury yourself in it again, but your mind feels so stretched you're not sure you could muster the technique.

Instead you bury your face into the fat of Amaris thigh, her soft skin perfect against yours, the taste of sweat easily on your tongue.

“I’m gonna cum!”

Both of your partners just nod, continuing their ministrations, pushing you to the edge. The knot pulls tighter and tighter, your whole lower half feeling numb, when Martiz begins fondling your balls.

It’s the straw that breaks the camel's back, orgasming exploding across your abdomen, cum filling Amaris throat. She keeps her lips wrapped tight around you as it does, not willing to waste a drop.

Both of your partners finally pull out after you're fully spent, cum promptly swallowed and your body falling into a pile on the bed.

You damn them for their unfair stamina, completely undone by one orgasm while they seem as composed as ever. They circle your body, Martiz at the front and Amaris at the back, rubbing massages into your sore muscles. Amaris kisses the back of your neck and Martiz kisses your forehead.

“You did amazing love.”

“You always do, dearest.” Amaris kisses your shoulder. “It’s like you were made for us.”

“T-thanks.” You’re able to muster a single word, sleep tempting you with every breath. “I love you guys.”

“We love you too, dear.”

[thrumbolt]

Small guide to art posts on Tumblr:

I'm writing this because I keep seeing more and more beautiful art with absolutely terrible presentation on my dash. Presentation that is so bad it makes me sometimes not reblog the post even though I love the art itself. Call me superficial, but the presentation is part of the art as well and usually these posts also have less notes than you'd expect for the quality, so it's probably not just a me thing. That makes me sad and I want everyone to get the attention they deserve so here are my tips on how to present art on tumblr:

Put the image first, then add a small description - NOT the other way around. So many art posts have people yapping and yapping, only to then post an image in the middle of a wall of text. Don't do that! Have you ever been to a museum? Descriptions and titles should be small and below a piece of art. That's because you want to center the art as your main piece in your post.

If you have a long description or context, put it under a cut. Honestly, that is how everyone should do with long text. Nothing worse than making people scroll endlessly if they don't want to and it's also what makes people hesitate to reblog long posts. Short descriptions also give the benefit that people outside your fandom corner will be more inclined to reblog your art as well!

So generally keep text short and clear if possible. If you didn't draw the art, credit the artist above all else! I keep seeing people who commissioned something confused for the artist and it's fucking annoying. No one truly cares if you paid someone to draw something, everyone just wants to know who drew it. Also please for the love of all that is holy, do not pair your art with an embedded spotify link to a playlist. If you really want to share music, put it under a cut as well or in a hyperlink. Last thing you want is some ugly ass album cover to take away from your art!

No colorful fonts. There's a reason the majority of tumblr has ignored them ever since they were conceived (I remember the update! I was there!) and it's because it's ugly as sin and in the terms of artwork, it usually distracts from the piece as well, even if you try to color code. It's also the easiest way to out you as a newbie :D

If you have more than one page/piece in a post, consider the arrangement carefully. You do not have to accept the tumblr default - you can rearrange! In general, if it's not that many pieces, it makes sense to post them below each other rather than side by side. Make people look at your art that you spent so much time on! It's allowed to be eye catchy! If you have a more horizontal piece with short sides, consider adding a detail shot or two to lengthen your post so people don't accidentally scroll by.

Please, please stop using the huge title font in art posts, I beg you.

And that's basically it. In the end you can of course post however you like - it should please you first and foremost after all. This is just meant as tips and tricks of someone who has reblogged and posted art for over a decade on this hellhole of a page now. Some things newer people might not be aware of.

[leahrintarou]

☠︎︎ DAY TWENTY: BODY WORSHIP FT. BOKUTO

☠︎︎ WARNINGS: requested! insecure reader, nipple play, orgasm from nipple stimulation, soft!dom bokuto

☠︎︎ WORD COUNT: 1.2k

after a busy week, y/n and bokuto decided that it'd be fitting to stay in and relax with each other for the weekend. bokuto was currently laying on his abdomen, propped up by his elbows as he'd scroll through the social apps on his phone.

y/n was currently doing the same, resting her head on her lover's back, holding her phone above her face. they'd been quiet for a while, enjoying the sounds of the busy streets below them. the window behind the bed's headboard was sightly leveled high enough for fresh air to pass through the mesh layered behind the glass.

y/n's eyes focused on the screen of her phone, admiring all of the 'perfect' labeled figures. despite wanting to focus her mind onto a different topics, she couldn't help but continuing to scroll from image to image, a goal in mind that there would be someone with a similar body type as her.

the more she scrolled, the more hope was lost and instead replaced with insecurities. she were finally able to swipe out of the endless feed, but without even realizing, she'd instead opened her gallery before clicking on the album in which contained many captured moments of she and bokuto.

a smile crept onto her lips but just as fast as it arrived, it'd left as she now took into notice of her own figure in each and every one of those pictures. as she swiped through each of them, the only thing stopping her from tapping onto the 'trash' icon was bokuto's smile in each pixelated photo.

the silence was soon broken when the sound of bokuto's acknowledging hum was made audible. y/n didn't even notice it until his figure rolled away from under her relaxed head, immediately meeting with the fabric of the bed's comforter. she let out a frustrated grown at the lost contact, staring up at the ceiling before her field of vision was blocked with bokuto's smiling expression hat now hovered above her.

bokuto noticed how y/n barely returned his smiled, causing him to cup the sides of y/n's face, using his thumbs to tug at the corner of her lips, forcing her to smile. she swatted away his hands before noticing how he began to lean down to press a kiss to her forehead. "why are you in a shitty mood all of a sudden?" he questioned, giving her enough space so she could sit up correctly.

"nothing important"

"if it's making you sad, of course its important" bokuto replied, standing up from the bed. y/ n's eye's failed to track his figure, instead, in a daze as her previous thoughts continued to circulate in her head. it startled her when she felt the weight of bokuto lazily slouch over her crisscrossed seating figure. "wanna shower with me?" he questioned, lips directly next to her ear as he awaited for her response.

she hesitantly nodded, the action slightly unusual to bokuto making him squint his eyes at her own, in suspicion. his arms encased her figure, clumsily pulling her off of the bed as she let out and unpleasant call of his name due to his sudden action.

-----------

as y/n got dressed, she couldn't help but get distracted by the mirror's reflection of herself. her surroundings appeared as a blur, the only clear image were she, herself. y/n's expression practically read 'unsatisfied', her eye's lingering on every fragment of her image long enough to not realize that bokuto had entered their shared bedroom.

"n/n?"

y/n quickly blinked herself out of her dazed state before looking over to bokuto's figure. she reached for a t-shirt to quickly pull over her head to cover up her exposed figure but her actions were stopped by bokuto's voice and the contact that his palm made with her abdomen. "n/n" this time her name were called with more of a serious and less confused tone.

"hm?" she questioned, meeting his gaze as she looked over her shoulder to tilt her head a bit. "why are you being so distant today? are you mad at me?" he questioned. y/n immediately denied his theory, shaking her head and noticing how he slightly relaxed at the reassurance. he took the shirt from her hold, tossing it onto the bed before, turning her figure around to face him.

"what's wrong then, pretty?"

"koutarou, i don't feel good" she mumbled, immediately continuing her words when his expression morphed into one of worry. "I mean, in my body. I don't feel good about it. in fact, I don't really like it-" y/n's word were stopped when the bokuto's hand gently palmed her face, stopping her from continuing another set of words.

"that's what's been on your mind all day?" he questioned, watching as she stumbled a bit from his sudden action. she didn't reply but instead reached for the shirt that was previously tossed onto the bed. "n/n, come here" he motioned, smiling when she followed his words.

he tangled his arms around her, pulling y/n closer to himself, noticing how they made skin to skin contact since they'd just finish their shower and had yet to get fully dressed. "koutarou.." he notice how her eyes were filled with regret from her previous confession before he placed a kiss to her lips. "I'm glad you told me what was bothering you".

"and I know I can't change how you feel so easily but, I can at least show you how much I love you for you and you only"

another kiss was pressed to y/n's lips, stopping her from mouthing a reply. bokuto's hand released from around her waist before he found the ones of y/n. he parted their kiss before trailing down to her bare chest, practically expressing his thoughts through the bruised marking that began to become visible on her skin.

soft moans grazed his loose strands of hair as bokuto's warming touch felt so prominent in the low temperature that filled the room. pleasurable moans fell against her skin as bokuto pulled her needy figure closer against himself.

usually, during their intimately shared moments, bokuto would always focus on every part of her body at one time but this time it was different. he carefully guided y/n backwards so she'd be allowed to lay down onto the bed to relax against his touch. "you're so perfect to me, n/ n". bokuto mumbled, taking a glance up to y/n's bothered expression.

his hand reached up to the unoccupied side of her chest, kneading the area in the warm hold of his palm. y/n let out a moan at the sudden pressure when it was accompanied by the action of his tongue flickering against the bruised and sensitive bud of her other breast. she was shocked at the feeling of an overwhelming pleasure suddenly engulfing her.

the volume of her voice raised just enough to satisfy bokuto's ears, as that familiar feeling rushed though her body, her attempt to gain a small amount of friction against bokuto's knee, only made him admire the sight even more.

"see? you're perfect." he smiled, watching as she panted from the unexpected peak that arrived at such a fast pace. "no-"

"can you do that for me again?"

[roo-bastmoon]

With 17 versions to buy and 8 versions combined for 160 streams per Spotify account, plus Melon and FLO streams now counting, of course Jungkook’s Seven is charting high and sweeping awards. Firstly because it’s Jungkook of course, and secondly because it’s been given every possible advantage.

My (perhaps controversial) opinions about that are below the cut.

Honestly? I really can’t feel good about any “first” or “most” or “fastest” records achieved by this single—catchy as it is—which wasn’t written or conceived by Jungkook and has nothing much personal or deeply meaningful about it. It’s a fun feel-good summer pop song, for sure, but no more groundbreaking than, say, Bad Decisions (in my opinion… I have no musical expertise.)

But I can’t feel super great about all the records and awards because this many versions immediately restocked and shipped and auto play and promoted to radio and ads and leadership hyping only this while Jungkook says he wants to be the one and only artist to conquer kpop and pop for the next thousand years… it all just doesn’t really sit right with me.

When compared to the 10 months Jimin forewent sleep, food, and showers to have a hand in every aspect of his first (and deeply personal and symbolic) album, which was never sent to radio or restocked, got split tracks and delayed playlisting and shady articles, plus not one kudos or congratulations from leadership even after he made history for South Korea and stocks soared…

Forgive me, but it all leaves a bad taste in my mouth. It is ruining the song for me.

Some things like culled streams and sales are out of the company’s control. But the things I mentioned above were all possible for Jimin’s Hot 100 #1. Even if every Tannie has total say in their projects' sales and marketing, and everyone was on board with only Jungkook getting the Hybe America "red carpet" treatment, I can’t lie and say the stark difference feels fine. It doesn't, and I confess I leave the headphones in every time Seven comes up in the playlists now.

I’m not jealous. If anything, I have a warped sense of pride that Jimin has done so fantastically well despite so many, many obstacles stacked against him. I love to champion an underdog and I’m glad I never need to doubt his success was organic. I actually feel extra admiration for how humble and hardworking he continues to be—no resting on any laurels for the It Boy. I'm so glad he is my ult-bias.

*sigh*

Listen to me.

I know Jungkook and Jimin are both genuinely good people. I know they are sincerely talented and hard working. I know they truly love each other. I know all members are legitimately happy for each others' success.

I know what’s important to me may not be important to them, nor what they want for their careers. And even if I feel their company’s making shitty decisions, I know my place as a fan.

So I trust them. And I simply hang in. I hope lessons were learned for smoother, fairer future releases. Because neglecting assets makes zero business sense, and perceived favoritism can erode the group’s bonds and tear ARMY apart. It is, frankly, just plain stupid.

So I may dislike things about their solo era rollouts and I can't bring myself to sugar-coat it; but I mostly try to keep my negative thoughts to myself and find things I CAN celebrate with other fans on an open timeline.

I never want another Tannie to feel anguished and misunderstood the way Hobi did about JitB’s physicals.

Watching Jungkook’s face here on his London live when he talks about people hating him just haunts me. It guts me. I can't stand it. That kid was going through it and I don't believe he has a malicious bone in his body, so it just really upsets me seeing him like that.

There’s so, so much about this company, this industry, this culture that I just don’t understand. But I trust Park Jimin completely. As long as Park Jimin loves and supports his members, God knows, I will too.

So!! On that note...

We have Jungkook’s birthday to celebrate next week and Taehyung’s album to support the week after that. I’m going to do my best to rest up and gather some good energy for these things!

And of course, we must congratulate our Jimin, who made history again today, and no matter what, will always set the standard. I just know he's cooking up something else for us with all these weeks of silence, and I cannot wait to go BERSERK for it whenever it drops.

I’m not really sure I had a point to this post. It’s just that I have been mulling all this over for a long time, and finally felt well enough to sit up long enough to come online and type up my thoughts.

I guess what I mostly wanted to share with my friends here is that it’s okay to feel really disappointed and even enraged at the way some things play out over the (hopefully life-long) careers of BTS members. Don't let folks gaslight you. Call it like you see it. (Maybe keep sensitive things behind a cut or in the DMs--and of course, please change your mind if you get better insight. In the end, only the Tannies really know what's going on with the Tannies.)

But while I’m still side-eyeing the company so hard right now, I’ve decided to love and support the boys as people and artists. I'm trying to believe the best in everyone. I’m still an OT7 Jikooker.

You don’t have to agree with me, and if you need to unfollow, I understand. But I figured I should just tell you guys (especially the new followers) where I am at with all this.

Love, Roo

[curio-queries]

SMERALDO GARDEN MARCHING BAND

My thoughts prior to the release of MUSE. I've avoided pretty much all reactions and analysis posts until I finished this so I have no clue if anyone else has come up with better words to describe some of these concepts but here's my take on it. I wanted to get this out prior to MUSE so that I can see how my view evolves with further context but here's where I am now.

Initial Reaction:

I'd actually had a few issues that night so I wasn't in the best headspace to take in a new song but I did listen to it on Spotify first and then watched the mv twice, once without subs and once with. (And yes, I know it's technically not called an mv...deal with it lol)

Anyways, I definitely wasn't immediately sold on it - which is expected from me, it's EXCEEDINGLY rare that I like any song on first listen but SGMB only took a couple of runthroughs before I was on board. One thing that helped me reframe it in my mind and with my previous expectations is to remember the first part of Jimin's self-proclaimed attributes: Cutie, sexy, lovely. SGMB leans very solidly into the cutie aspect, a little near the lovely side but far deeper into Cutie than anything we've seen in his solo releases. (RememberCute was an answer in the seossword puzzle). That got me thinking about where the rest of his songs would be in comparison and here's the placement I've landed on. Some of these have changed over the past few days but I'm curious where y'all disagree with my placements.

Good old Serendipity, a perfect balance of the three in my opinion. All of FACE is firmly in the Sexy section with Like Crazy leaning more evenly into Lovely. Lie is also right there with LC but more closely on the border. My beloved Promise and Letter holding down the Lovely section with CTT straying closer to Cutie. If you forgot about the cutie circle though, SGMB would have seems like it was complete out of the expected range. I am curious if we'll ever get something that's a mix of cutie and sexy, I can't comprehend what that would be like but I wouldn't put it past our JM to find a way!

Theories?

So, how do I think I did with all of my theories? Let's go through them one by one:

Open Locker Meaning: nothing to prove/disprove this yet. There were an awful lot of references to Serendipity in the mv though, so maybe that's the tie-in? I don't know, this one was a streeeeeetch in any case.

Sound Effects Interlude: we know we're getting an interlude but we'll have to wait for MUSE and any behind info to learn if it's sound effects that Jimin recorded himself like Dive.

Rooms Going from Dark to Light: Yes! I mean we knew it was going to be a lighter album than FACE but I think the word BRIGHT is all over SGMB. And I think this technique in both of those videos was trying to highlight that for us.

SGMB as an Actual Band: Yes! Definitely right here too! I'm going to talk about this more below because I think this is actually a very important part of this song.

The Emoji Poll from the Insta Chat: Yes! I think some people are still trying to make the argument that each option is supposed to represent different songs on muse. And while the others may lean more into any of these specifically, SGMB definitely has elements of all of them as well

An Actual Band?

So, like I mentioned in the theory above, I had the thought that SGMB could be portrayed as a fictional band itself, very similar to what MCR did with the Black Parade. And since Jimin decided to use this as the song's title; as well as make it the pre-release track, I think this is an important topic to delve into.

First, this allows Jimin a perspective shift to share with us his career outside the lens of BTS. Not because he NEEDS or WANTS to separate himself from them but he has had his own journey as an artist that may differ from his experiences from the perspective of a BTS member. Obviously BTS is completely woven through this journey and he gives us an acknowledgement of that with the line about 12 June and the handsign.

(Sidenote, whenever I see any of them do that now, I instantly think of that moment in Jimin's pixid ep where he said they don't anymore...I think we may have been misled...) 😝

Second, the frame of SGMB from a band's perspective also puts the song firmly in the categorization of 'work' rather than 'personal'. With FACE being such a deeply personal projectregarding his very deep human experiences, i love that he'svery upfront with us about MUSE being a work project. I've said this before, and it's one of my absolute favorite things about Jimin's music: he crafts it so that we can easily adapt it to our own interpretations. There's a lot of loving and beautiful imagery in the lines of this song that can have special meaning in all levels of relationships; platonic or not. But his delivery if this message to us, is professional. This is reinforced by the suits Jimin has worn in all of the material released so far. He's following a work dress code. (If you happen to see this post within a week of release, we have a poll regarding Jimin's suits on @bts-polls )

ME + US = MUSE

I just want to touch on this briefly here as I expect there'll be more once the album releases but there are some hints already. Like I discussed in my FACE post, Jimin has again come up with some key words to weave through the project. In FACE, it was several sentences but MUSE seems to be focusing on the following:

ME: Jimin himself

US: Jimin's view on his audience

MUSE: His awareness of us and how that effects his creations and manner of artistry.

SGMB and CTT are both bursting with these references and viewpoints. But I honestly don't think of SGMB as a traditional 'fan song'. I have another post where I talk about the different kinds of fan songs. Like I said above, SGMB details Jimin's experience as an artist and how his audience plays into that process. Not like CTT that's literally a diary of our journey with him. Maybe an extremely nuanced take but SGMB just doesn't feel like it belongs in the same 'fan song' categorization that CTT does.

The End for Now

Does anyone know anything about that little hand-wave Jimin does during the bow at the end? He repeats it. Is just an additional flourish that he's added in himself? I've never seen anyone do that during bows after a performance so I'm wondering if it's a cultural/industry thing.

What do y'all think? I'd love to hear your thoughts! If any of you have made posts about SGMB, I'll try to read them now but rumblr is not very forgiving if you miss something in the timeline. I'm very happy for you to share links to your posts in the comments!