#and at the same time idk if I’m comfortable enough to be at one by myself at least not right now

[chibishortdeath]

Hmmm I kinda want to make a side blog for RPG Maker game development related things to be able to talk to more experienced people in that community, but at the same time I both don’t really think I’d get much attention and don’t want to accidentally spoil my own game (^^ ; ).

I have a rough story, concept doodles, a tileset, some character sprites, an enemy that walks around but can’t initiate battle yet (if I even decide to have a battle system), a couple rooms with some events, and a functioning run button, but I’m still lost on how to do much else at the moment. Especially since this program has the ability for scripting, meaning I’ll probably have to learn and actually retain another coding language.

So, I’m not very far at all lol. Idk how well that’d go over on the established fandom website, but eh.

[m-a-d-e-l-e-i-n-e]

This is embarrassing but like genuinely as an adult how do you actually Make Friends. Especially as a socially anxious person.

[willowfey]

i had two different dreams last night, with a brief wake up in the middle, that i was in my old house and the same two fake “cops” broke into my house (just walked in bc we hadn’t locked the doors) to kidnap me. both times i watched their truck pull into the driveway. from different spots in the house each time (one time front door one time back door) i watched them walk up and tried to call for help but they just opened the door and walked in and i couldn’t make a sound bc i was frozen with terror.

and then i woke up nauseous and shaking 🫶🏻

[bigbuffjoonie]

THIS FIC WAS AMAZING YOU HAVE NOTHING TO BE SORRY FOR!! I’M HAPPY TO READ ANYTHING YOU WRITE AND I AM HAPPY TO WAIT ANYTIME TO BE GRACED WITH YOUR WORKS OKAY!!!!

Awake? | Jin x Reader

Pairing: (Soft-ish) Yandere Android Jin x  Reader 

Word Count: 8.0k

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Obsession, Fear, Non-Consensual Touching, Stalking (technically), Murder, Attempted Sexual Assault (Not By Jin), Choking (Not by Jin), Slapping (Not By Jin)

Note: This is based on the Playstation game Detroit Become Human

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals. 

Preview: Androids had always been incredibly efficient, that was their designed purpose after all, to make human life easier. And because of that, humans often chose the easier option. The human population had fallen to its lowest numbers in centuries and it was predicted that it would fall even more. Synthetic love was far more appealing than its organic counterpart. You could have anyone you wanted, they could look however you wanted, they would always be agreeable and it was achievable for a cost. 

A/N: A fair warning as always, this is not yet edited lol. I always feel so bad that I make you guys wait so long for a fic so I roll it out as quickly as possible. I don’t really anticipate this doing very well for a few reasons, but mainly because it’s so far from anything I’ve written before. Hopefully, some of you will enjoy it, and if you don’t I’m sorry I made you wait so long for something you didn’t want 😭 Anyways, I hope you enjoy and I can’t wait to see you in my inbox and the comments, love you 💜💜💜

This fic is dedicated to @softie00 thank you so much for your encouragement, kindness, and help with making this work come to fruition 💜

The world was almost nothing like it had been before. 

As a child, your grandparents had delivered you stories that were nothing more than fairytales to you. A world where trees enveloped the land in massive waves of emerald green that rivaled that of the ocean. It was a place where if you were quiet, patient, and lucky enough you could spot a family of deer grazing in your backyard. They spun tales of endless days of summer spent barefoot running through the grass while catching fireflies - something you had never seen outside of an image. 

The world that they knew had died a long time ago. It was their grandparents that had started it, and it was their generation that had finished it. 

What had once been a quiet suburban community was now dwarfed by hulking shapes of concrete, metal and glass. Artificial had taken over. What greenery was left was preserved, but no human civilian had been granted the right to step foot on that land, those small pockets that remained were left untouched and uninhabited by your kind. 

It wasn’t just your community that had become a city, a community that you had not been alive to remember, but everywhere else as well.

And it was because of the androids. 

The first one that had been revealed had shocked the entire world because of its human likeness - it was so perfect that even the trained eye was unable to decipher whether it was man or machine. And then suddenly the world was flooded with them. Factories began sprouting like uncontrollable weeds and around them grew cities that tore up the earth and cemented their place. The world had become a concrete jungle. 

Androids quickly began to multiply, their numbers rivaling even that of the human population. But they were much easier to spot now. Their programming had been changed to help with that, their mannerisms a bit more formal, their voices slightly stilted, and upon their temple was a small LED disk that symbolized their status. 

Androids had always been incredibly efficient, that was their designed purpose after all, to make human life easier. And because of that, humans often chose the easier option. The human population had fallen to its lowest numbers in centuries and it was predicted that it would fall even more. Synthetic love was far more appealing than its organic counterpart. You could have anyone you wanted, they could look however you wanted, they would always be agreeable and it was achievable for a cost. 

But not everyone could afford their own personal android, the basic models still being priced at around $8,000 and those androids were just for helping around the house. So the comfort industry boomed. Love hotels soon followed, places where you could rent an android for pleasure and have their memory bank wiped immediately after. Human interaction was no longer a necessary requirement but an option. 

And you, well, you couldn’t consider yourself all that much better. 

You wearily blinked, your eyes stinging from the bright LED light that hung above you. You huddled beneath your umbrella for protection from the thick torrents of rain as the sign flickered gently. 

“Awake?” The sign read, as if it were taunting you. 

A long string of nights filled with insomnia had led you to this point, pathetically drenched in rain as you stood outside of an android establishment. The comfort industry extended to all areas, not just pleasure. 

You hesitantly stepped through the sliding doors and were greeted by a dimly lit lobby. It was completely devoid of human life, but several androids were there attending to seemingly unnecessary tasks like dusting an already clean surface or straightening an unused pillow on one of the lounges. 

You hurriedly rushed by them, not wanting to garner too much attention as you already felt pretty pathetic about your situation. As soon as you stopped at the front desk, the android behind it greeted you. 

“Hello, my name is Celene, are you interested in our cuddle-bot service tonight?” She asked with a gentle smile. 

You cringed at the name, your finger digging into your palm in a show of anxiety as you forced a pleasant smile. It wasn’t the androids’ fault that some human had come up with such a belittling name for their service. 

“Yes, please,” You mumbled in response. 

“Alright, I’d be happy to get you started,” She grinned, her LED spinning yellow as she processed your command, “If you look at the screen to your right you can customize your visit. You can pick your android model, appearance, sex, duration of stay, and tailor your experience that will best help you achieve your desired goal for your visit. If you have any questions, I would be happy to help.” 

A glass screen beside you lit up revealing several multiple choice questions that you could answer such as: what is the reason for your visit? How long has this problem persisted? What do you find comforting? What scents do you prefer? So on and so forth. 

The questionnaire wasn’t exhaustive but it was not short by any means. But the quality of the service so far had begun to ignite some hope within you. This was the only other option you could think of to deal with your insomnia, you felt as if you had exhausted all other options. 

There was one section in particular that grabbed your attention, the final section titled “Scenario.”

“Celene, what does ‘Scenario,” mean?” You asked. 

“Scenario allows you to further customize your experience by enhancing the personality of your chosen android. It is similar to role-playing. We have a few options available. The boyfriend or girlfriend scenario will have a much more intimate approach whereas the caregiver scenario has a familial or parental approach, to name a few.” 

You pursed your lips in thought as you scrolled through the scenarios, pretending as if you hadn’t already chosen yours the second Celene has mentioned it. To put it lightly, you were just as starved of affection as you were of sleep. The whole debacle of synthetic versus organic love had affected your generation the hardest. The dating pool was halved by the presence of androids and as a result you had never dated anyone before.

But still, you read each scenario title before ultimately scrolling back and picking the one that you wanted: “Boyfriend Scenario.” 

The screen flashed, processing your commands, before switching to the last page. It was time to choose your android. The selection was surprisingly wide, but of course all androids fell in the same age bracket; all appearing youthful and beautiful so beautiful that it was almost uncanny. 

You bit your lip and furrowed your brows in thought as you swiped through all of the selections. There wasn’t anything necessarily wrong with them, but you also didn’t know what exactly it was you were looking for. 

“May I make a suggestion, miss?” Celene asked, causing you to jump as you had forgotten her presence. “A new line has been released for testing, if you choose an android from that new model you will receive a discount for participating in the trial period.” 

While the service wasn’t too expensive, it was still money being taken away from your daily expenses and unfortunately you were never one to walk away from a good deal. That was something your mother had instilled in you with great success. 

And so, you agreed. Celene’s LED spun yellow once more before the page before you was filled with seven new images of androids. All of them had face molds you hadn’t seen before, each with their own charm and subtle imperfections that only served to make them more attractive and more human-like. But there was one in particular that caught your eye. 

There was something about him that gave you the feeling of a person you could pretend you were in a long-term relationship with. He had the boyfriend look to him. Maybe it was his longer slightly curly brown hair, his big brown eyes, or even his plush pouty lips. There was something about him that comforted you, something that felt like coming back to your warm bed on a cold rainy day. 

With a simple touch of your fingertip it was decided. 

“That one is a wonderful choice, it will be sure to help you get a good night’s sleep,” Celene nodded before smoothly rounding the desk, “If you follow me I will lead you to your room.” 

You followed Celene like a lost puppy, keeping close to her as she led you into the back of the building and through various hallways. The rest of the building was similar to the entrance. It was all lit with a soft yellow light that reflected off of the polished surfaces. But it was also eerily empty. You could only assume it was because everyone else had checked in much earlier than you had. That thought was far more comforting than the idea of being the only human being in the entire building. 

All of the hallways were lined with doors, there were so many that it almost seemed never ending. But maybe that was your insomnia laced brain playing tricks on you. After a short while Celene stopped in front of one door in particular that appeared no different or special from any of the other ones you had passed. 

“This door will only open with your fingerprint or in the case of an emergency during your stay. If there is anything you need your android can contact the front desk and I can prepare it for you. We hope that you enjoy your stay.” 

“Thank you, Celene,” You said with a slight jerk of your head and a tight lipped smile. 

“It is my pleasure,” She said before returning your smile and taking her leave. 

Once she disappeared around the corner you allowed yourself to let out a deep exhale, your shoulders relaxing as you were left alone. You were exhausted but you were also incredibly nervous. You were sure this was going to be awkward at first, there was nothing normal about cuddling someone the first time you met them. Although, he was probably used to it. He wasn’t human after all, he didn’t have those types of feelings or any at all really. 

So, with a swift crack of your neck, you pressed your thumb against the door plate and stepped inside once it slid open. 

The room was rather plain. Everything was white, gray, or a soft beige color and the furniture was very minimal. There was a comfortable looking bed, a decent sized couch, and some cushioned mats on the floor on the lower split level of the room. You could only assume it was to give you the option to choose what was most comfortable. 

You noticed that the walls were also screens. Some of them looked like they were disguised as windows, but with a close inspection you realized that they were simulation screens. You could choose the environment you wished to view. 

And, outside of those main features, he was there. 

When you had entered he was sitting on the ground, on the edge of the split level platform staring at the blank screens. But he was looking at you now, his head turned to look over his shoulder towards you. 

While the other androids you had met seemed human, he was the most human looking one you had ever seen. The smile that spread over his lips was infectious as he rose to greet you. 

“You’re home! But look at you, you’re completely soaked,” He tutted, pulling off your rain jacket and rushing to hang it up. “I’m sure you’ve had a long day, have you eaten?”

It took you a moment to respond, still taken aback by his fluid motions and manner of speaking. He was unlike any android you had ever met, that was for sure. He just seemed so unlike them. 

“Hello? Is anyone home?” He teased you, tapping you gently on the top of your head, “You must have had a long day if that was a hard question.”

“I ate,” You finally said, your fingers playing with one another awkwardly. 

“That’s good to hear, I’m very proud of you.” He said, smoothing out the locks of your hair his impish actions had disrupted. 

You couldn’t deny the warmth that flushed through your body from his praise. The older you got the less often you heard that someone was proud of you. And it was much more special when someone that looked the way he did told you that. 

“What’s your name?” You asked. 

His face twitched slightly, the lenses of his pupils dilating and contracting as his LED spun yellow. The pleasant smile dropped off of his face and it went stoic, like his programming was momentarily paused as he processed a dialogue that didn’t quite fit. It was chilling to see someone who once appeared so human drop their persona and show their hidden nature. It was another reminder that none of this was real. 

“What would you like to call me?” He finally asked, his expression still flat and devoid of simulated emotion. 

You were stumped for a moment and unnerved by his unblinking stare that refused to leave you. In a moment of panic you uttered the first male name that came to your mind, the name of a boy that you had a crush on in high school that never noticed you. 

“Jin? Is that okay, do you like that?” 

“My name is Jin,”  His LED spun blue, his eyes finally blinking once more as his subtle pleasant smile returned, “Silly girl, we’ve been together for so long and you can’t remember my name? If I didn’t think you were tired before, I definitely do now.” 

“Right, I’m sorry about that,” You apologized, it seemed like going along with it was the best answer you could come up with. 

“Come on sleepy girl, let’s get you ready for bed,” He hummed while grabbing you by the wrist and guiding you towards the bathroom where a set of comfortable looking sleepwear was laid out. “Take your time, I’ll be right outside.” 

Once the door closed and you were left alone you were able to relax for a moment. The tension in your shoulders wasn’t entirely from anxiety but now a result of the interest and excitement you couldn’t deny you had. While Jin had slipped up for a moment, when he was working as designed he was perfect. He wasn’t clingy but he also wasn’t distant. He was teasing but not hurtful, and he knew how to praise you. 

You were beginning to realize that there was some truth to what the others believed, androids could be easier. 

When you had finally changed and emerged from the bathroom you could see that Jin had been keeping himself busy in your absence. The lighting in the room had shifted, it had become dimmer and much more soothing. There was a scent in the air as well, one you recognized as what you had answered in your survey not that long ago. 

The android himself was pulling the blankets and sheets back from the bed, preparing it for you and you assumed himself as well. 

“There you are,” He said, pausing his work to cross the room, “I have everything ready, would you like to pick the environment tonight?” 

You gingerly retrieved the remote from his hands and swiftly scrolled through the options before picking your tried and true classic and floating it up on the simulation screens. The floor to ceiling windows that previously appeared to have their blinds closed were now open revealing a murky city skyline with soft lights accompanied by rain and thunder. It was not unlike the actual weather you had fought through to get there. 

“Hm, I think that’s everything then. Are you ready for bed?” He asked. 

“Let’s give it a try,” You said with a nod. 

Jin moved before you did, climbing into the bed easily and fluffing up the pillows behind him before looking up at you expectantly. 

God, this was so weird. 

You stiffly climbed in beside him and sank down into the mattress, allowing him to pull the blankets up over the both of you. You were closer to the edge of the mattress, purposefully trying to keep as much space between the two of you as possible despite paying for the opposite. You hadn’t shared a bed with someone since you were young and it had never been someone of the opposite gender. And while Jin wasn’t human, he still looked like a man and that was cause for some hesitance and shyness. 

Jin being the perfect android that he was quickly took notice of this. Instead of saying anything he raised his arm, opening up his chest to you while simultaneously pitching the blanket up. Quietly and slowly you shuffled across the mattress and allowed him to wrap his arms around you and pull you into his chest. 

You were momentarily startled by the discovery that he was warm and soft beneath your fingers like a real human body. And, even more surprisingly, there was a solid thump emanating from his chest right where your ear was pressed against. Androids operated on a fluid system, this meant that his pump had been placed in his chest much like a human heart. Whoever made him had done so with intricate detail and care to make him blend in as seamlessly as possible. The only thing that reminded you of his nature was the steady, soft blue swirl of his LED. 

“What are you thinking about?” He finally asked, his fingers now gently stroking a pattern across your cheek and up over your temple. It was repetitive, light, and evidently soothing as it spurred a yawn from you that was rather surprising. 

“This isn’t as scary as I thought it would be,” You admitted. That was partially the truth, but you thought it better you didn’t instill an existential crisis into the android by telling him about how human he seemed. 

“Why would sleeping with your boyfriend be scary?” The android chuckled. 

“Don’t say it like that!” You groaned, pressing your face further into his chest in utter embarrassment. 

The android hummed in response, curling his arms around you in a firmer hold, the compression soothing you as well as your anxiety. He seemed pleased with himself, like it had been his plan to embarrass you into his embrace. 

“There’s no reason to be scared of me, I’m here to take care of you,” He explained, smoothing his palm up and down your back in gentle strokes.

“That’s not what I was worried about.” 

“No? What were you worried about then?” 

“That this wouldn’t work.” 

A beat of silence followed but the android didn’t cease his soothing actions. You could tell from the gentle yellow glow from his temple that he was thoroughly processing your words. 

“You haven’t been able to sleep in a long time?” He finally asked. 

“No, not for a very long while.” 

“Can I ask why?” 

“It’s too quiet in my apartment. It’s just me and the loneliness sometimes becomes too much. Sometimes I go so many days alone that when I finally do see other people my voice doesn’t sound like my own and it hurts to talk. But I don’t even know anyone well enough to tell them about my life, my problems, or how I’m doing. And then by the time I get home and I finally lay down all of those thoughts become so loud in my head that sleep becomes impossible. And then I worry. I think about everything that bothers me. Every deadline, every irrational fear. It scares me so badly that sleep no longer becomes a possibility.” 

You’re utterly surprised by the word vomit that flies out of your mouth. You never expected that you would divulge all of your fears to an android that you just met. But Jin was good, he was amazing at comforting and as a result pulling out any information that he needed to comfort you better. 

“You’re not alone now though, are you?” 

“...No.” 

“Then there’s nothing to be afraid of. You can close your eyes and I’ll be here the entire time. I’ll make sure that you’re safe and I’ll be here when you wake up.” He says, his voice softer now. “I’ll take care of you.” 

It felt like you had been adrift in the ever growing expanse of space. Like you had been dragged into the void without a single spot of starlight. It was terribly cold, dark, and lonely. It was terrifying. But now, it’s warm. Where you had once been adrift you were now anchored. And it wasn’t so lonely anymore. 

You could feel your eyes tiring, it was becoming harder to keep them open each time you blinked. This was unfamiliar and startling, but the gentle touch of your android soothed you. You weren’t alone, it was safe to sleep. 

“It’s okay, don’t fight it. I’ll look after you,” Jin whispered, his soft lips brushing over your forehead in a barely there kiss. 

And, as if he had given you permission, you allowed your eyes to fall shut and felt the soft lull of sleep pull you under. 

~~~~~~~

Androids were not meant to think. They were not created to care, but to serve. Unfortunately for him, he was made with the purpose to fulfill both of those things. To serve, and to care. But not to be human. 

That very idea itself was flawed. 

It was easy to follow protocol, to monitor your respiration, your heart rate, and your REM cycle. But it was harder to formulate a way to care for you. That required abstraction and abstraction is a very human thing. 

Jin, as you had called him although he had had many different names, knew that he was different from the other androids he had encountered. They lacked dimension, they were computers with bodies, and he was something else entirely. But he was a being still bound by code and design. It was difficult to put a label as to what he was. 

And with you, that label became even harder to define. He had a database full of information about human interaction and physical touch, yet his programming was stumped by you. You were unnecessarily kind, you didn’t call him “it,” and you didn’t demand anything of him. You were unlike the other patrons he had cared for before. You treated him like he was human and that was something he had never experienced before. 

It didn’t make sense, it wasn’t logical. 

He found himself staring at you now, your cheek flush with his chest and your hand curled into the fabric of his shirt like you were anchoring yourself to him - afraid that he would leave you as you dreamt. You were by no means perfect, he had never met someone who looked perfect when they were unconscious, but you were by all means adorable. If he were human, he could say that he liked you, that he enjoyed your presence. 

But he wasn’t human, and this was his purpose. Nothing more, nothing less. That was what his programming demanded. 

And even though he knew that to be true, even though he knew that you were asleep and no longer required comforting, there was something else inside him that drove him to subconsciously cup your face with one hand and gently stroke the skin there. 

He could blame it once again on his programming, afterall the boyfriend experience protocol was driving his shell of a body, but there was this thrum inside of him. This feeling like he was trapped behind a glass wall and on the verge of breaking through it and finally taking control of his body. 

It was wrong.

He was aware of the others that he was dangerously close to becoming like. Androids who were infected, ridden with a virus that corrupted their code and made them operate as if they were human. It made them think that they could feel. They were glitched, turncoats, deviants. And that was a sure fire way to be decommissioned and scrapped for parts. 

But it was okay, that wouldn’t be him. He didn’t want anything, he couldn’t feel. It wasn’t anxiety that scrambled his processor, it was overstimulation from too much input. And if he could keep convincing himself that that was the truth, then he could avoid being decommissioned. He could keep seeing you. 

You. 

You were still asleep, blissfully unaware of the android at your side whose “mind” was racing. You didn’t need him right now, he didn’t need to be on still. And so, in an effort to quiet himself, he entered sleep mode. 

This was the closest he would get to being human. This was the closest he would get to you. And from the outside, it certainly did look like two human lovers entwined, coming back to one another after a long day apart. 

He too could pretend. 

~~~~~~~

When you woke up he was still there, just like he had promised you. His warm touch was still there, cocooning you in a perfect embrace. He was awake, if that was what you could call it. There was a soft smile gracing his lips as he looked down at you, the still rising sun making his synthetic skin glow. 

“How did you sleep?” He spoke first. 

You blinked slowly, trying to shake the clinging threads of sleep from you before you could speak. And, as you fully woke up, you realized with a start that you had slept through the entire night. A task that had been so hard for so many years had been easily managed by him. 

“I’ve never slept better,” You admitted with a gentle smile of your own. 

“That’s good to hear, sweetheart,” He said, the new term of endearment sending warmth throughout your body, “Do you really have to go to work today?” 

Still in character, he was able to remind you of the impending end of your session. 

“You could stay, just for a little longer if you wanted to. We could have the rest of the morning to ourselves.” 

“I really wish I could, but I have to go.” 

A look of disappointment and sadness washed over his face and for a brief moment you could have sworn despair flickered over his features before an unsettling stoicness masked those simulated emotions. It was like his program was forcibly shut down. There was something upsetting about seeing him be filed away, about seeing Jin removed and the android returned. 

You readied yourself for the day in silence, your body tense as you worried over Jin. It was clear that he wasn’t there anymore. His programming had been terminated when you declined to lengthen your session. You couldn’t understand the instant connection you felt with him, you could only chalk it up to the lack of attention and affection you had felt in your life. The comfort he had brought you, the gentle touches, the soothing smiles and words, it all had messed with your mind and in turn, your heart. 

You lingered at the door of the room, his room. You couldn’t help but look back at him sadly. He was seated back where you had seen him for the first time the night before, on the ledge leading to the bottom split level. His back was facing you, you were unable to make out his expression but you were certain it was flat. Just a machine waiting for further instruction. 

You hesitated, then swallowed, “Jin?” 

He didn’t move. 

“Will you…will you remember this? Me? At all?” You asked. 

“Company policy dictates that the service androids memory banks be wiped within fifteen minutes of the end of the session in order to protect the privacy of the client.” He replied, his voice flat. 

Your heart fell into your stomach. 

You slowly approached him before sitting down beside him on his step. His gaze remained trained ahead of him, staring at a blank simulation screen.

“There isn’t a way that you can remember me?”

Silence. 

“Jin?” His chin slightly jerked this time, something so subtle it could have been a muscle twitch if he were human. 

“If the client were to make follow up sessions the data would be maintained and preserved. That of course comes with additional expenses.” 

You pursed your lips in thought, your brows drawn together in concentration. It was easy to make a decision based on your emotions. Selfishly, you wanted him to remember you. You didn’t want him to forget about you like he had countless others. You didn’t want to be like the others. 

You wanted to be special. 

There was also the fact that you knew just a taste of what he had to offer would never be enough. Now that you knew he could help you, could give you the affection you were starved of, you wanted to keep him. It was a sound investment, it was a necessity. You needed him. 

You let out a shaky breath and acted quickly before you could change your mind. You leaned forward and gently pressed a quick, shy kiss to his warm cheek. The android jerked in what could only be described as surprise before finally looking at you. The lenses of his eyes dilated and then shrunk in a fraction of a second. He was seeing you, really seeing you. 

You left quickly after that, far too flustered to look at his beautiful face any longer after what you had done. That, and you had several more sessions to book in advance. 

But, if you had lingered for a moment as the door swung shut you would have noticed the flash of emerald green that filled the room, the subtle chirp of wildlife, and the gentle thrum of thunder and light patter of rain. 

The screens displayed a forest you hadn’t chosen.

~~~~~~~

He remembered you. And while that was good, that was also part of the problem.

He hated having other clients. And while there weren’t too many, there were enough that it bothered him. He often found himself replaying his stored memories of his time spent with you when he should have been monitoring his clients. It was a dangerous thing to do, if he was found out his memory would definitely be wiped for interfering with his service. 

But the more time he spent with you, the harder it was to remind himself that he shouldn’t feel or think anything. He was parts, a computer, strings of ones and zeroes, he shouldn’t think or feel anything. 

He didn’t want to be decommissioned - he didn’t want to die. But he also didn’t want to let go of you. That was no longer an option. 

He knew you could see it too, you could see him slowly becoming human. And you did everything but discourage him. You asked him how his day was, what he did while he waited for you, what his favorite color was, what his favorite song was - questions no human had ever bothered to ask him before. And scarily enough he found he did have preferences which he shouldn’t have had in the first place. His favorite song was your favorite song, his favorite color was the color of your eyes, and all he ever thought about while he waited was you. 

He had never wanted anything before, he never had desire. But now, he truly desired you. What he would give to keep you there with him, or better yet to come home with you. Then he could have you all to himself and he wouldn’t have to tend to other clients. 

In the beginning, his program demanded that he treat you like his “girlfriend.” But at this point, he wasn’t sure where protocol began and his desires ended. 

Even now as his new client entered the room he replayed his memories of you, the simulation screen alive with the forest. He was remembering the last time he had seen you, just another one of your many visits. 

You had looked healthier than he had ever seen you. The tired, sickly look on your face had long ago disappeared and the slouch of your shoulders was replaced with confidence. He felt satisfied that he had done his job well, but he was far more satisfied with the knowledge that you were happier because of him. 

“Welcome home, did you have a good day?” He asked with genuine interest. 

“It was good enough, what about you?”

“It was good because I knew I would see you.” He said with a grin and a dramatic wink. 

“I just got here and you’re already starting with me.” You rolled your eyes, a display of just how comfortable you had become around him. 

“I can’t help it, you’re cute when you're flustered.” 

“Alright, I’m leaving,” You teased, turning dramatically and shrugging your jacket back on. 

The LED on his temple spun yellow, his hands trembled. His body moved without thinking and he quickly grabbed hold of your arm. You were startled, he could tell by your wide eyed, confused expression. 

“No, don’t go.” He begged, his voice sounded breathless and even frightened. 

You had spent many sessions with the android, and not once had you ever detected fear in his voice. You didn’t even think it was possible, what purpose would that have in his programming? 

Once more, you were reminded of just how human the android seemed. There was a nagging suspicion in the back of your mind, an article you had read, a news story you had heard in passing about androids like him. But you didn’t want to admit that there was anything wrong with him, not when he had helped you more than he could possibly know. 

“I’m not going anywhere, it’s okay.” 

That seemed to calm him down, his hold on your arm loosening but not leaving. If you didn’t know any better you would think that he looked self conscious, anxious even, like he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to be. 

That night, you cared for him instead. 

There was a random moving playing in the background, the lights were dimmed, and the simulation screens were drawn shut. Your back was resting against the headboard of the bed while the android laid his head on your lap, his legs curled up and his arm wrapped around your thighs. Your fingers were mindlessly sifting through his hair, twirling the longer strands towards the bottom. His eyes had fluttered shut and his LED was thrumming a soft blue. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he was asleep. 

Your heart shuddered as you stared at him, it wasn’t the first time that you had thought about how beautiful he was. He was everything you had ever wanted. He was funny, sweet, caring, and he made you feel as if you were perfect. You had never felt like that before. All your life you had been compared to the female modeled androids that were readily available. They were stunning, they always smiled, they were nurturing, and they always obeyed - they never disagreed. 

But you also realized that you were no better than the men you had been surrounded by. Because here you were, finding comfort in an android instead of a “real” man. At the end of the day, you were paying for company. Jin only remembered you because he had to, it was his purpose. You weren’t special, you wanted to be, but you weren’t. 

At that moment, you made a difficult decision. It was going to be your last night with Jin. You were human, he was an android. There was no future in that. You couldn’t keep coming back to him for the rest of your life, wasting away because you were a sad, lonely human who couldn’t find companionship with your own kind. If you didn’t end it soon then you never would. 

You could feel your eyes burning with unshed tears as you traced the gentle contours of his face. You hadn’t intended to lie to him but you were going to have to leave him. You need to learn how to live your own life. 

“Jin?” You whispered, your voice cracking from barely concealed emotion. 

He slowly opened his eyes as he rolled over on your lap to face you, his big brown eyes staring up at you.

“Can I kiss you?” 

The pump in his chest quickened, an occurrence which he could not explain. He had clients order him to do that before, if it comforted and helped them he was required to do it. But no one had ever asked him, he had always been ordered. 

His LED was spinning rapidly, the bright yellow hue flashing in the darkness. He was processing, thinking over everything quickly. Instead of saying anything, he propped himself up on his elbow and gently took hold of your jaw before leaning in and connecting your lips with his own. 

It was soft, warm, and sweet. Everything that you had expected it to be. But his gentle touches broke your heart, how were you supposed to leave when you had grown to care about him so much? It was hard to remember that he was a machine when his lips felt so gentle and warm, when his touch cooled your burning skin, and his strong hands pulled you into his lap. It felt like he wanted you just as much as you wanted him. 

But you knew better, it was his programming, he had to satisfy his client. That was why you refused to let it go any further and that was why you knew you wouldn’t be coming to your next session. 

You weren’t special. 

“Is this it then?” His current client huffed, stalling his memory as well as the swipe of his finger over his lower lip as he remembered your shy, hesitant kiss. 

His client had been huffing and puffing for the past fifteen minutes, tossing and turning on her side - your side - of the bed in an attempt to garner his attention. He was failing to serve his purpose. 

“Is something wrong?” He finally asked, giving her the attention she desired. 

“I’m bored and unsatisfied. I paid all of this money just to lay here while you do nothing.” She grunted. 

“Is there anything I can do to help improve your experience?” His programming took over. 

A sudden look overcame her features, one that he couldn’t decipher but also knew he shouldn’t like. She tossed the blankets aside and crawled over to him, slinging her leg over his and climbing into his lap. He tensed beneath her touch, confused as to what she was doing. 

“If I’m paying all of this money for you, I figure I should get my time well spent,” She explained, tugging at the buttons of his shirt. 

His LED spun yellow, he didn’t like this. He didn’t want this, this wasn’t what his purpose was. 

“My purpose is to help you sleep -” 

“Then help me by tiring me out. You’re telling me people pay just to sleep here? That’s a load of crap. You’re no better than the bots at the fucking Eden Club.” She sneered. 

The Eden Club, that was the “love hotel” in the seedier parts of the city. If she wanted that type of comfort she could have gone there. 

“My purpose is -”��

“Shut the fuck up!” She snapped, bringing her hand down across his face in one clean slap that snapped his head to the side. 

It didn’t hurt, he didn’t have pain sensors, but it was surprising. It was scary. 

“I’m sick and tired of your fucking mouth,” She hissed. 

And then she was wrapping her hand around his throat, squeezing hard and pinning him down. He didn’t need to breathe, it didn’t hurt even though her nails had sliced through his synthetic skin and blue blood was rolling down his throat. 

It didn’t hurt, he didn’t need to breathe, but he didn’t like it, he was scared.

He was scared. 

He wanted to fight back, he wanted to throw her off and run but he couldn’t. He was locked down, his programming reminding him of the number one rule: never harm a human. 

But his processor was scrambling. The room was green from the simulation screens, wild life chirped, she was tugging at his clothes, his blood was gliding down his neck, he couldn’t fucking move, and then there was you. 

You. He didn’t want anyone to touch him, except for you. 

It felt like he was throwing himself against solid glass - spider cracks slowly but surely spreading along its surface with each violent attack until it finally shattered and fell apart. And he could move. 

He ripped her hand off of his throat and threw her off the bed, her body colliding so harshly with the hardwood floors that she rolled and cried out in pain. 

His LED was a striking, vibrant red that pulsed in the dark. The fight for freedom was violent, and that was ensured when he grabbed hold of the lamp off of the night stand and connected it with her head over and over again until she couldn’t think or feel anything any more. Just like a machine. 

Her red blood pooled onto the floor, soaking into the wood and everything it touched. He could see it all over his white shirt - feel the stickiness of it all over his hands, forearms, and face. 

He was awake. 

But as he felt immense relief, he also felt frightened. He was feeling everything all at once - happiness, anger, disgust, and fear. He had violated his prime directive. In his first moments of freedom he had killed a human being. And while the feeling of her blood on his skin disgusted him and sent unpleasant chills through his wiring he couldn’t find it in himself to feel bad. She was disgusting. 

But he was panicking at the thought of his impending decommissioning. So he ran, he tore out of the building he had been in his entire life and took to the dark city streets. He already knew where he was going, he had pulled up your client profile from his data banks the minute he had stepped outside. He knew where you lived, had known this entire time, but now he was able to fulfill his wish. Finally, he would be the one coming home to you. 

He could see your window of your apartment, the light was still on. Of course it was, you couldn’t sleep without him - you needed him just as much as he needed you. You were meant for each other. You needed to be taken care of and it was his job to take care of you. Even with his freedom he could see that goal flashing in his visual pathways - “Comfort your partner.” 

He pounded on your door in rapid succession, not stopping until he heard your light footsteps approach and the door creaked open. You barely opened it a crack but that was enough for him to wedge his hand in between the door and its frame and force it open completely with his inhuman strength. 

You stumbled backwards with a shriek of fright, convinced that someone was breaking into your apartment only for you to be stumped by the sight of your android slamming the door shut behind him. 

“Jin? What are you doing here?” You managed to ask. To say you were surprised wasn’t even the beginning of it. 

“I’m home.” He smiled, his eyes crinkling with joy. 

“Oh - oh my god, what is that?!” You yelped, stepping away from him in fear as you finally caught sight of the blood all over his body. It was soaked into his shirt and pants, smeared over his hands and arms, and specks of it were sprayed over his face like gruesome freckles. 

You knew that didn’t belong to him, his own “blue blood” stuck out in vibrant streaks down his throat. 

“You’re scared,” He said, the smile falling from his face, “what’s wrong?” 

He took a few steps forward only for you to scramble backwards, sliding around your kitchen counter in an attempt to try and barricade yourself from him. He was painted with human blood, you didn’t want to find out how it had gotten there. 

He still didn’t understand. He hadn’t done anything wrong, well nothing wrong to you. Why were you shutting him out? He…he loved you, didn’t you love him? You had kissed him, you had comforted him. You had to love him too. 

When he got too close your eyes shifted to your bedroom door behind him and you foolishly decided to make a run for it. You didn’t make it far, the android was too fast. He easily wrapped his arms around you and pulled you back into his chest - holding you tightly as you whimpered and thrashed like a wild animal caught in a snare. 

“Comfort your partner” - his protocol still read. 

“Shhh, it’s okay,” He cooed, his voice soft beside your ear, “Just relax, everything is fine. I’m here, I love you.” 

His touch was leaving behind bloody handprints on your shirt and on your cheek as he cupped your face in an attempt to get you to look at him. Your body had finally fallen limp as you realized there was no fighting him. 

You had tried denying it for so long, but Jin was corrupted. He had a virus like those others you had heard about. And he was dangerous. He said that he loved you, he held you like he loved you, kissed you like he loved you, but he was a murderer. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had murdered for you. 

These were the consequences of falling in love with a machine. These were the consequences of an unnatural, artificial affection. 

“I’m home now, it’s okay, neither of us ever has to be alone ever again.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple and then your cheek. 

“Please, don’t hurt me.” You begged, a tear finally breaking free and cutting through the streak of red he had left behind on your face. 

“I would never hurt you, I want to take care of you. I want to love you.” 

He carefully scooped you up and carried you into your room, the place you had tried to escape to before was now a cage for you and your android. He climbed into your bed with you still in his grasp and proceeded to go through his usual routine of comforting you before bed. Although this time the sheets were stained red, his grip was a little too tight, and his LED was a rich red. Everything was red. 

In the most twisted way possible, you had gotten your wish. You were special. 

“It’s okay, don’t fight it. I’ll look after you,” Jin whispered, his familiar words taking on an entirely new meaning as you lost the tension in your body. Your arms that were locked out, pushing you away from him, collapsed and allowed him to pull you into his chest.

You could feel his nose pressed against your hair, his hands soothing over your back, his lips lightly pressed against your forehead. He was acting like nothing had changed, like the two of you had never left that place. Like you would be able to relax in his embrace.

Before, your room had been a part of your insomnia. Now, you were certain you would never be able to sleep again. 

Your world was almost nothing like it had been before.

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[httpsserene]

I have been having SUCH a thought since the Thigh Riding, and I NEED to tell you.

We know reader has been loving Max and Charles’ thighs, but have you seen those silicone thigh toys? They’re basically ridged pads you strap to your thigh and…well you can guess what they do with them.

I just- I feel like it would elevate it, their sweet girl opening up to the world of toys whilst in the comfort of something she loved.

𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞 | 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐬 | 𝐄𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐒𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞: 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞

summary: all my (terrified and oversensitive) homies hate vibrators!! max and charles introduce you to something better.  content warning: 18+ only. mdni. explicit sexual content. vibrators. thigh riding. sex toys. non-penetrative sex. edging. praise kink. corruption kink. dom/sub undertones. coming untouched. sub!charles. sub!reader. dom!max. pairing: max verstappen x charles leclerc x fem!black!reader word count: 2.4k words.

author’s notes: this is from december 2023, jesus christ. about fucking time right, @vetteltea? this has been haunting me in my sleep ever since this hit my inbox, now it’s y’all’s problem too < 333 psss, next post will either be toasty part two (toto) or a smau xxx

(if you’re unsure about what these specific thigh toys are, don’t worry, i would link an example but idk if that would get me put in tblr jail and i’m on thin ice with my mentions, tags, and even dms not working :| look up “grinding pad sex toy” to get an idea of what i’m referencing in this fic. )

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You’ve deeply repressed the memory of your orgasm-deprived outburst that kick started your sexual exploration with Max and Charles. Vaguely, you can remember saying that you possibly considered the thought of buying a vibrator to get yourself off since riding your pillow wasn’t enough anymore.

[…you’ve become depraved enough to consider buying a vibrator, but all packages delivered to this apartment have to be approved by max or charles to be sent up, and you’re definitely not bold enough to go out and buy one (and risk being seen by one of their fans or have to physically talk to someone to buy one)...]

[…you seem to have missed the fact that you sent their minds reeling and continue venting, “i don’t know what to do, maxy!  i’ve been doing the same thing, and it’s NEVER failed me before. it’s cruel that it stopped working when you guys left me for more than a month! no matter how i did it–if i did the exact same things i’ve always been doing, or tried something new, nothing worked! i was literally just considering buying a fucking vibrator! a vibrator, charles, i’d rather run naked in the street than buy that online and have to put in this delivery address–”

charles gently presses finger against your mouth, shushing you. he pulls you into a deep hug, rubbing a hand up and down the length of your back , the motion pacifying you. he hums, and it vibrates through his chest to yours, “mmm, we’re home now, mon ange. there’s no need to run in the streets naked–” “definitely not,” max jumps in, reacting possessively at the implication of other people seeing you undressed. charles rolls his eyes and continues (like he’s not just as jealous as max), “or buy a vibrator. i know it must be so frustrating…”]

Charles was right. You didn’t have to go streaking or buy a sex toy to get off, your boyfriends took care of you. That night, you were satisfied by riding Max’s thigh. Then a few days later, you learned how to pleasure your men with handjobs. A couple of days after that you were fingerfucked into an altered mental state, then followed up with watching Charles cum untouched as Max ate him out. You had Max’s mouth on you next and weeks later in a Spanish villa, you allowed them to take your virginity.

The five days you three spent in that villa were filled with pleasure, as Max and Charles fulfilled every request of yours without question. In bed, on the sofa, from the kitchen floor to the dining table, from the hot tub to the bathroom shower, horizontally, vertically, parabolically, from dusk to dawn—the two years of relationship you had without sexual intimacy had been put to rest. The understanding, the vulnerability, and the trust rooted within everyone had led to that moment. It was worth it.

So, one would understand your confusion when Max drops the idea of sex toys in conversation with you and Charles on a random morning. With an audible noise of confusion, you tilt your head up at him adorably, and genuinely question, “Why would I use a toy when I have you two?” Your tummy tightened when that sentence caused Charles to look at you with dripping molten eyes and Max’s mumbled grumble about corrupting your innocence goes unheard. Minutes later, you were bent over the kitchen island, the skirt of your sundress shoved up around your waist, and your white panties dangling off of one ankle as they took turns eating you out. Needless to say, you forgot about the subject of conversation the moment they knocked your legs open.

Eventually, they do manage to have a chat about toys without it devolving into sex. 

“Schat,” Max grabbed your attention, the clink of his silverware resting on his plate further interrupted your focus on spinning pasta onto your fork.

“Yes, Maxy?” you responded, meeting his eyes with a smile.

“After this discussion, we will never bring this up again if you are adamantly against the idea,” you brought your fork to your lips, munching away with a look of puzzlement, the Dutchman continued, “But, Charlie and I were talking…and we think, that—with your approval, of course—that there’s a chance you may enjoy experiencing and learning about sex toys, and how good they can make you feel. As long as either one of us is using them on you—and, with your hatred of them—they’re also not vibrators.”

You choked on your pasta, Charles making a noise of surprise as he rushed forward to pat you on the back.

Airways now cleared, you looked at Max with watery eyes, “There was not enough foreshadowing to let me know where the conversation was going. And, fuck vibrators. They are way too strong.”

The Monegasque’s eyes brightened with humor, “Hm. I think vibrators are nice, especially when they’re in Max’s hand.”

“You’re a menace and a freak,” the older man responded, “And she’s chronically sensitive. Don’t tease.”

Charles tugged at one of your curls, chuckling as he saw the brown skin of your cheeks redden.

“I mean,” you paused to play fight with your boyfriend, batting his hand from your hair cutely, “You guys haven’t been wrong with anything you’ve introduced me to. If you think that I might enjoy something…I guess I can try it. And, you’ll stop if I tell you to, right?”

“Always, mon ange.” “Of course, liefje.”

“Okay, then. I just don’t think there’s a toy that I’ll like?”

A smirk spread across Max’s lips when he glanced over at Charles, like they knew something you didn’t. His blue eyes were alight with humor as they looked back at you, “Let us worry about that.”

You did such a good job of letting your boyfriends “worry about sex toys” that you ended up forgetting the conversation happened. Until tonight, when you walked into your bedroom to see Charles on the bed completely naked, save for—what appears to be, a pink silicone pad strapped around his tanned, muscular thigh.

You freeze in the doorway, mouth parted, struggling to process the sight in front of you. The brunette is ruined. His hair is damp with sweat, strands of curls stuck to his forehead, and green eyes moist with dried tear tracks painting the ruddiness of his cheeks. His lips are bitten red, swollen, and moist with his spit—Max’s too. The bruises start on his collarbone, deep red marks brush along his clavicle and pecs, and there are visible imprints of teeth around his right nipple. Traces of Max’s unforgiving grip are painted on his waist, thumbprints obvious to your eyes. His cock looks painful; burning red, twitching randomly, the vein on his underside raised, and precome has been leaking out of his tip for a while if the puddle by the base is any telling. 

Employing his skill for perfect timing, the en-suite door opens, and Max steps into the room with a bottle of lube in his hand. 

“Charlie?” Max coos, walking over to the delirious man, pouting sympathetically when the brunette’s head falls forward to rest on his hip, ruffling his hair and scratching along his scalp. “Aren’t you going to thank our pretty girl for putting an end to your torture?”

“–rci, merci,” the exhausted man mumbles messily. Max hums in content, dropping the lube on the bed and gesturing for you to come closer. Tripping over your feet in haste to follow his order, you ask softly, “How long have you had him like this?”

“Around forty-five minutes,” Max shrugs, dismissively, “He was getting too excited as we waited for you to join us.”

Swallowing shakily, you inquire, “Excited about what?

“Your new sex toy.” 

You gasp and Max’s eyes flutter across your face as he gages your reaction. Max sees you shift on your feet and casts look downward; your thighs are pressed together for friction—you’re aroused.

“Do you want to try it?”

“Yes, Max.”

The Dutchman smiles at you, reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind your ear, and leans forward to press a multitude of chaste kisses on your lips, laughing lowly when you whine with displeasure as he ignores your attempts to deepen them. “You’re being so brave for me. Take your clothes off, pretty girl.”

Bare in the blink of an eye, you look at your older boyfriend for his next direction.

“Our Charlie,” Max starts, helping the fucked-out man sit up straight, “Has been so kind to volunteer his thigh to you. Strapped around it,” he pauses to slap his hand down beneath the toy, smirking at Charles’ delayed yelp, and squeezing the meat of his muscle warmly, “Is a ridged silicone pad designed to simulate the vulva and clit as you grind. The waves and spikes of silicone are malleable and soft,” Max drags his finger across them demonstratively, “and are smooth and bouncy as you slide across it, allowing for a continuous rubbing sensation—I did my research.”

Giggling nervously as your eyes flicker between Charles’ cock and the daunting pink slab of plastic, “I can tell. Um—I just ride it like it’s his thigh?”

Max nods and offers you his hand for stability as you move to straddle the pad. Charles blinks, raising trembling hands to rest on your hips, staring at you with hazy eyes. You sigh, tangling your hand in the nape of his hair and using it to pull him forward into a kiss. His lips are clumsy but eager as they move against yours, whimpers muffled into your mouth and beard scratching along your chin. He tries to tug you downwards to have you firmly sit on the pad but is halted by Max.

“Greedy, both of you,” Max snorts, picking up the forgotten bottle of lube and uncapping it to lightly drizzle some on the toy's surface, “I know you get wetter than the ocean but, better safe than sorry.”

He pats you on the ass in encouragement, and you shake your head with shame as you lower yourself down on the silicone, draping your arms around Charles’ shoulders and pausing to acquaint yourself with the new feeling. The chill of the lube startles you but aside from that, the toy is…comfortable. The raised hump sits perfectly against the curvature of your cunt and already, you’re anticipating the focused stimulation it will provide. 

Max sits behind Charles and the bed sinks under his weight, barely jostling the Monegasque’s thigh. However, it’s enough of a movement that it causes one of the soft spikes to clip your clit, pushing a quiet noise of surprise from your lips.

“Oh,” you murmur airily.

Trying to hide the quirk of his lips, Max leans forward to whisper directly into Charles’ ear, “This seems awfully familiar to the first time she rode my thigh, no?”

You whimper audibly, knowing that he purposefully spoke loud enough for you to hear his words. Refusing to fixate on Charles’ reply, you circle your hips, breath catching as the various textures set your nerves ablaze. You understand that Max added the lube to prevent any unwanted roughness—it’s rendered unnecessary as your arousal starts to leak. Digging your nails into the younger man’s back, you rock your hips back and forth slowly, moaning freely as the waves are a consistent friction against your labia. 

“It’s–fuck—i-it’s good.”

“Stuttering already,” Max tuts, and you feel the heat in your cheeks radiate down to your bouncing chest. Your rhythm roughens; dragging yourself along the toys in desperation, toes curling at every random press of the spikes against your outer lips and clit. Charles gasps in relief, your quickened pace causing his cock to bounce and rub against his abdomen in his puddle of precome. He gets lucky on every few grinds when you undulate forwards and his cock bounces to glide against your navel. His hands grip firmly around your hips and shove them into a jerkier motion, keeping you close to him so his reddened length can be soothed against your skin constantly. 

The change in angle and position has caused the spikes to form a barrage around your clit and the waves drag over your entrance, teasing you with the feeling of being opened up. Dropping your head to hide your face in Charles’ neck, you muffle your pitchy moans and shrieks by tasting the sweat beading on his skin.

“I’m jealous, schatje,” Max speaks, “I almost want to pull her off of your thigh and have her sit on my face.”

Fresh tears spill from Charles’ eyes as he begs, “N-no-no—mmmph—please, ‘m close.”

Your hips start to rabbit against the toy, and the texture between your legs is overwhelming but too pleasurable to consider slowing. 

Max yanks Charles’ head backward with a fist in his hair, “Do you want to cum, Charlie?”

The man in question babbles incoherently, chest trembling from lack of oxygen as he continues to sob; he tries to nod, but can’t, thanks to Max’s firm grip. The burning of his scalp doesn’t subdue him, it encourages him to keep tugging so the pain floods endorphins through his body. 

“You know what to say,” Max states calmly, the words sending shivers down your spine. Your own body starts to tingle as you taste your orgasm on the tip of your tongue; you’re too delighted at the new sensations to let any embarrassment build from reaching the edge quickly.

Charles struggles to get his tongue, lips, and vocal cords to cooperate. You see a frantic look light in his eyes, sure he’s trying to puzzle out what language he’s sane enough to communicate in. He manages to verbalize sounds that could be likened to Max’s name if you brush past his whimpers and cries.

“Plea–,” Charles tries to push the word out pitifully, “—ah, sss'il te pla—” his cock bumps against your navel, and his words cut off, eyes rolling back before he can finish begging.

A humorous laugh leaves Max; this is the easiest way Max has ever made the younger man lose his speech. He softens, and gives into the pillow prince, “You did so good, Charlie. You tried your hardest for me, yeah? You begged so prettily tonight, almost as pretty as you look. Such a good boy, Charles. You can cum.”

Strikingly, the approval works for both you and Charles. Twin cries of pleasure erupt as your orgasms blur your vision and burn through your muscles. The feeling of Charles’s cum splattering against your stomach sends another burst of light through your skin as you continue to grind fitfully on the silicone pad. A lake of wetness puddled on the poor man’s thigh, that squelches as you move. 

Charles is rendered silent as his cock continues to pulse even when the flow of his release ceases. Max brings his hand down to squeeze at his base and Charles releases a choppy scream as it pushes another couple of ribbons out of him. His hips thrust upwards with every string, forcing hisses of over sensitivity to slip from you as it drags the soaked pad against your cunt. You would happily crawl off his thigh, but you haven’t regained feeling in your legs yet. 

Thankfully, Charles deflates back into Max, his cock finally softening and slowly losing some of its flush. Tears start to leak from his eyes again, his chest shuddering through little sobs. You whimper softly at his tears and Max pulls you both to rest comfortably in the bed, as he shushes you two through the comedown. When the tears, shivers, and shakes halt, a pleased tilt of lips rises to Charles's face as his eyes dance between you and Max. 

The Dutchman unclips the toy from Charles’s thigh and smirks at the wet peeling noise that sounds.

“So…I assume this toy has your approval?”

© httpsserene2023

[moonstruckme]

Hi, I love the emt!marauders you post, I was wondering if u could write one that the reader has a chronic disease that involves getting sore when it's cold? Idk how to explain, I have lupus, and when it's cold, my joints tend to get sensitive and sore...so something with fluff/comfort, pls?

Thank you for requesting my love <3

cw: reader has unspecified chronic pain that flares up in the cold, I relied on the internet to write this so if anything seems wrong/inaccurate please let me know

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 887 words

Sirius is furious with himself for not checking the weather report. It’s so rare that you all have time off work on the same day, it’s possible you’d gotten ahead of yourselves in the excitement, but the sudden onset of winter wasn’t part of anyone’s plan. Even in Remus’ coat and tucked under James’ arm, you’ve gone quiet and withdrawn. Sirius can practically see you cringing with every step you take down the sidewalk. 

The other boys are similarly concerned.

“Let’s pop in here,” James suggests, maneuvering you all towards a bookstore. 

“Jamie,” you say, voice all sweetness even when it’s threaded through with exhaustion, “don’t go in somewhere you don’t want to just for me.” 

“Doll, I know how it might seem that way,” says Sirius, “but despite popular misconception, James actually can read.” 

You crack a smile, though it looks like it costs you. “Right, thanks, but we’re supposed to be out doing things we all like. If we went into a bookstore, you two would just end up sitting somewhere while Remus and I looked around.” 

“I like seeing you comfortable,” James says, somewhat poutily, “and I like buying you things. A bookstore is sounding rather enjoyable right now.” 

“Don’t you want to go inside?” Remus touches his knuckles gently underneath the butterfly-shaped rash on your cheeks that’s worsening due to the sun and cold. It’s not a terribly frigid day but the wind makes it worse, and however you try to act your boyfriends can see the toll it’s taking on you. “Even if it’s just for a while, it’ll be good to give yourself a break.” 

“Rem’s cold too,” Sirius says, noting the tension in the other boy’s posture now that he’s given up his coat, “aren’t you, lovely? C’mon, I know where we can go.” 

You don’t seem to have it in you to protest as Sirius leads you all down the block to the coffee shop around the corner. The heat is blasting inside. He finds you a table away from the door, where the cold breeze coming in can’t reach you and the whirring of the coffee grinders is less deafening. James insists on buying you each a warm beverage and a sweet (only you and Remus protest this; Sirius doesn’t know why you bother). 

“My poor girl,” Sirius murmurs, holding your frozen hands carefully in his. Remus’ coat pockets have done an insufficient job protecting them. Sirius devotes himself to rubbing warmth into each finger. 

“I think my drink would do as good a job of warming them up,” you say amusedly. 

“As good? I’m insulted.” 

“You know she really should be stretching her joints herself, love,” says Remus. 

“I do know,” Sirius replies primly, “thank you very much. It’s only that I’m very selfish.” 

Remus hums into his tea. “Selfish enough to let her drink go cold.” 

Sirius relents and lets you pick up your mug. You squeeze his hands thankfully before letting go. 

The windows at the front of the shop are foggy. It’s not cold enough yet for frost around the edges, but the mist gives the bustling street a blurred, wintry look, like the four of you are encapsulated in a warm snow globe scene, unmoving and separate from the outside world. Sirius finds it rather peaceful. 

“Did anyone bring ibuprofen?” James asks. 

You cringe sheepishly. “No, sorry. I forgot it at home.” 

“Don’t be sorry, lovie.” James palms the back of your neck, thumb rubbing soothingly. “Any of us could’ve thought of it. We’ll stop somewhere and grab a bottle.” 

“It never hurts to have extra,” Remus agrees before you can argue. 

“Okay,” you say, voice gone soft as it often does when you feel your boyfriends are taking too much notice of you. Sirius doesn’t understand your aversion to this in the slightest. “Thanks.” 

“It’s ungodly freezing out,” Sirius complains. “I move that we make a coffee shop stop every two blocks.” 

James’ face lights. “It could be like appetizer hopping—”

“But with pastries,” Sirius finishes. 

You don’t immediately argue, a promising sign. Remus appears to be warming to the idea as well. “We’d have to pace ourselves a bit more,” he points out, looking at your table cramped with plates and saucers. “Maybe at each place we pick one thing to share.” 

Sirius scoffs. “Suit yourself. I’m not splitting a muffin into four pieces and eating only one.” 

James looks as though he agrees, but he only says cheerily, “We’ll figure it out as we go. Does that sound good?” 

He poses the question to everyone, but they all know he’s really only asking you. Remus and Sirius give their assent quickly and you shrink a bit in your seat, embarrassed. 

“If it really doesn’t sound too inconvenient for you guys.” You lift one shoulder in a shrug. Sirius thinks with satisfaction that the motion looks easier than it might have when you first came in from the cold. “Then yeah, I’m alright with it.” 

“Oh, yes,” Sirius teases, “an afternoon spent enjoying coffee and pastries with the three most fetching people on the continent. I should really rethink this, it may be too inconvenient.” 

“Prick.” James elbows him and leans over to wrap an arm around you protectively, but your smile blooms, and that’s all Sirius wanted in the end.

[chewnotchoke]

in the warmth of your touch,

— boynextdoor with a s/o who feels cold

requested by anon <3 idk if a similar fic was written prior to this but pls do let me know if there is

comments are highly appreciated! also been a while since i last posted so i hope u enjoy this one!

sungho

𓍯 it was your first time sharing a bed with sungho. you snuggle into yourself, but you still feel an icy breeze along your back, and the room is colder than you anticipated. you know every inch between you and sungho, who is laying only on the opposite side, so you don't want to move too much.

it's not quite enough to have a blanket drawn firmly around your shoulders. you wonder whether he feels the same hesitancy because he hasn't said anything yet, likely in an attempt to settle in. but before you can say anything, you feel his arm extend and his touch lightly rest on your shoulder.

“i think it’ll drive me crazy if i’m not closer than this to you.” sungho says close to your ear. the softness of the moment, the way his hand rests on your arm, and the silent comfort in the gap between you are all that's left. under a blanket that is too tiny, the two of you are feeling warmer than ever.

riwoo

𓍯 maybe going on a walk on a cold night was a bad idea. you didn’t bring any sweater with you to warm you up, and your clothes were almost thin. the breeze was crisp and unexpected on an april night. worse, you were walking side by side with riwoo.

“you look cold. do you want my jacket?”

you declined, knowing it would be bad for him if he tries to make you warm. it’s been a while since you started dating but you still couldn’t help but get shy around him. his kindness makes you fluster, only because you like him that much. he noticed how you kept trying to bring your arms closer to your body to summon any warmth left.

before you knew it, like an embrace, his jacket was enveloped around your shoulders. the wind made it easier to smell his scent on the fabric. from behind, riwoo then wrapped his arms on your shoulders as he draws you closer to him.

“we could stay like this longer if you want.”

and both of you were giggling because he didn’t want to let go of you while walking. flirtatious glances accompanied every step, and your breath was audible in the cold air, fitting in with the playful conversation that seemed to revolve around you two.

jaehyun

𓍯 would be the type to make cheesy comments because he's actually shy about holding your hand and his cheeks are tinted with a faint blush. "you know you don't need to buy hand warmers because you already have me, right?" he says. your fingers are intertwined with each other and he adds, "other people can't find a hand warmer like me!" he grins. you'd laugh at his remark and say "so you're like my personal hand warmer then?"

"yeah, i'm yours only." both of you would laugh at each other's cheesy comments, warming up your hand even more like how much his laugh and smile warms up your heart. he loves playing with your hand, and makes more comments to conceal his shyness.

he doesn't tell you he likes it when you feel colder because then it's his chance to hold you closer to him. he'd ask you if your body feels cold too so you could snuggle together and wrap his arms around your waist.

taesan

𓍯 taesan gets more flirty because he loves the feel of your touch when you use his face to warm up your hands. on a study date you had with him, he reached out to your hands and noticed they were cold.

“can i make use of that pretty face to warm me up?” you asked, a smile crept onto his face. he was holding your hand and slowly bringing it to his face. you couldn't resist grinning as your palm touched taesan’s cheek and the warmth that radiated from him seemed like a soft sunshine.

taesan wasn't finished yet, though. he closed his eyes for a second, perhaps enjoying the sensation as he leaned into your contact and pushed your hand closer.

with a low voice, he whispered, "you don't realize how good this feels."

you move a few strand of his hair away from his face asking, “like it that much?” he opens his eyes to meet yours before replying “i love it so much i could fall asleep like this.”

leehan

𓍯 at a cafe, you were staying with your boyfriend leehan for food. "baby, it's getting a little colder here." you were slightly shivering from the breeze of the air conditioner despite being wrapped with a long-sleeved shirt and thick denim pants. leehan watches you while you barely couldn't smile from the cold freezing air.

"i told you to order something hot like coffee." leehan holds both of your shoulders, making you face him. he starts rubbing his palms in an exaggerated motion, trying to summon warmth.

he leans in as he cups your face with his hands, warm like a furnace as it dissolves the chill settled on your cheeks. being the playful guy that he is, he lightly squeezed your face, filling his expression with a teasing laugh. "better?" he grins.

"stop making fun of me."

"it's okay, you're cute."

woonhak

𓍯 woonhak would be the type to take your hand and put it inside his pocket. woonhak slowly pulls your hands apart as his fingers discover yours. he silently puts your hands in his coat pockets while keeping his own hands firmly in place. with his thumb making soft circles on your skin, he occasionally squeezes your hand. the subtlety of it makes you wonder if he even recognizes what he's doing.

a grin forms in your face, realizing how bold he is but his pink cheeks were still visible. he doesn’t let go, not even when you finally stop shivering.

there's a pleasant, familiar smell of his cologne that hovers between you. now that he's near enough, you can feel his soft breath and his presence enveloping you like an invisible blanket. the gentle curve of woonhak’s lips and the faint flush on his cheeks that intensifies when he knows you're observing him are visible when you dare to look up.

“like it so bad when i hold your hand like this you can’t even stop looking at me, huh?” he teases you

[goldenhypen]

all yours ⎯ ౨ৎ

syn. making out with jake. that’s the post.

note. reader has hair long enough to tuck behind ears

wc. 0.4k

a/n. i was brainstorming ideas for another jake drabble and then got carried away w this. brace yourselves cuz im still recovering from writing this :’>

occupied with cleaning the kitchen, it was difficult to notice jake eyeing you from behind.

a yelp left your lips as the top of your head hit a firm surface. you finished standing up in shock, searching for what you had bumped into, and you smiled as you saw your boyfriend's hand protecting the corner of the countertop to prevent you from getting hurt.

a pout painted your face. “awww, jakey, that’s so sweet.” you leaned in and pressed a kiss onto his soft, plump lips that you could never grow tired of.

after pulling away, you turned around and continued cleaning the kitchen. and a pair of familiar footsteps followed. you turned around again.

you laughed, “why are you following me? what are you doing?”

jake shrugged, and you eyed him funny.

“i miss your lips.”

“my—” you continued laughing at how cute your boyfriend was, finding it hard to believe how lucky you were to have this man all to yourself.

you gestured for him to come closer, and his excited giggles and smile had your heart doing somersaults in your chest as he approached you, placing his hands on your waist, and pulling you close.

all in a split second, his grin faded and his expression grew more serious, and before you could process any of it, one of his hands flew to your jaw and pulled you in as he met your lips in the middle.

the kiss was hot, to say the least, as you could always count on jake sim to come through with. his lips were perfect. and even more so as they moulded with yours.

he poured so much passion into that kiss that it didn’t fail to take your breath away. but you kissed him back, of course, and when you felt him bite your lip, the gasp that left you had him smirking against your mouth.

teeth colliding, tongues mingling, bodies shaping into one, after a long while, he pulled away, trying to catch his breath. his lips were swollen and his eyes in a daze—your face probably matching his own, chest rising and falling at the same tempo.

he stayed close, removing his hand from the side of your face to brush a few strands of hair behind your ear, then returning to cup your jaw. he stared into your eyes again before slowly coming back to your lips.

you chuckled. “what? miss my lips again already?”

his eyes didn’t meet yours this time. all he gave you was a nod in response, a desire already returning to his gaze.

“kiss me, jake. i’m all yours.”

a/n. AHH writing this type of theme is v outside my comfort zone but idk my fingers just kept typing away and here we are 😀 are yall okay? im not okay 😀

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taglist. @raimbows4u @sultrybaby @kpop-nct @ajayke-reads @wccycc @enhacolor @enhasfever @nokacchan @yizhoutv @xiaoderrrr @soobin-chois @tyunni @shinsou-rii @vickytodoroki @softkpopplace @belle643 @nar-nia @rapmonie2047 @pshchives @sunjakes @ethereal-engene @exohclipse @yeosayang @4ri-ki @jaeyunjakesim @whoschr @enaus @hoes4hoseok @palajae @annoyingbitch83 @malarign @rcrystallocks @stepout-09-15 @zeraaax @enhasengene @pistachiophobia @svnoofy @sweetjaemss @vatterie @majesticallymark @mnsnts @en-chantedtomeetyou @yeseoist @milisabunny @wonniestars @kazmura @nicholasluvbot @haechansbbg @atrirose @aeriil11

[i-starcreamed]

HIHIHI!!! I’ve been looking for D-16/Megatron fics for like a while now, (watched it on early release) and have been SUFFERING cuz there’s nothing out for him.. 😭 But then I came onto tumblr and found ur posts!!! They’ve been such HUGE comfort despite both being angst.. LOL

umum onto my ask… I was hoping to ask for a D-16/Megatron fanfic with him having an immensely huge soft spot for the reader… Practically listening and obeying their every word like it’s the last he’d hear of them.. In more specifics, I mean like D-16 (beginning) can be quite unfazed by most stuff, just being normal about other mechs and yet almost melts completely to what the reader has to say and pays attention to their every move.. Megatron on the other hand is basically the same too, despite changing and being completely different.. (the reader is basically like his second in command since he trusts them so much and they’re on his side)

D-16 / MEGATRON X READER

haii tysm :3 I tried to make this soo soft, enjoy. Also I wrote this originally while I was half asleep and the spelling was HORRIBLE idk how I was able to translate this

[ cybertronian!reader Fluff mostly, D-16 being a little angel. Orion third wheeling

As D-16, he was always by your side. You met in the mines, of course, and became friends rather quickly. You knew him as a bot who didn’t care much about others—not in a selfish way, but more in a “I’m just here to do my job” kind of way. He followed the rules, focused on the hope that one day, Sentinel would recognize his efforts and free him from the mines...all of them. He dreamed that one day, Sentinel would see their efforts and let them be among the city dwellers. If only he were created with a cog.

It came as a surprise to everyone when you two started dating, no one expected him to be the type, to be honest. In the mines, he always makes sure Orion and you are being safe. But you, specifically? He was borderline overprotective.

Then one day, the mine was caving in, but you needed just a littttle more energon to meet the day’s requirements. You were never one to not complete your daily tasks. You frantically tried to collect all the raw energon nearest to you...while the tunnel began closing in.

“Y/N, what are you doing?! Come on!” His voice strained with panic, his servo gripping your arm.

You hummed in frustration, keeping your optics on the collapsing tunnel behind you, “Hold on, just one more...I need this o-one piece..” You grit your denta as you stretched for one more chunk of rock.

You were out of time. D-16, realizing the danger, wasn’t about to let you risk it. He knew you'd get pissed about it but oh well...without a second thought, he pulled you away by your arm as his jetpack powered on. You yelped as he tossed you over his shoulder, successfully flying you out of there. Just in time actually.

When he finally set you down on your two pedes, you glanced at your cradled servos.

One single rock of raw energon.

You almost pouted.

“Dee.. this is not enough.” You mumbled, letting the rock fall from your servos.

Much to your surprise, D shook his helm.

“Hey, don’t worry about that. Look, you know what’s important?” He placed his servos on your shoulders, looking deep into your optics with such warmth that made your spark flutter “What’s important.. is that you’re okay.” He gently added, planting a small kiss to your helm.

You grinned. You thought he was so sweet, until he gently nudged your arm.

“Be thankful I saved your aft. Darkwing is probably going to give us an extra-long shift tomorrow,” He teased.

You rolled your optics. “Yeah, to make up for all the energon you made me drop.”

He shrugged, grinning. “I’d rather work a few more hours than lose you, sweet spark. I have my priorities.” He murmured, holding you close. You had the sweetest partner, you knew he wasn’t like this with anyone else.

Another thing about D is that he’s so attentive. You can talking about anything and he’ll be there, his optics never leaving your face. Maybe glancing to your lips, but that’s it. He thinks you look so great when you’re passionately talking about something. Whether you were sharing a tip or telling a story, he hung on your every word, asking questions, eager to listen. If you’re a little gremlin like Orión and enjoy sneaking around, he’s right behind you.

Insert the THREE of you--caught, waiting to possibly be yelled at by superiors.

It had all started because you wanted to explore an abandoned building and got busted in the act.

Orion coughs awkwardly. “Soo… how far down do you think they’ll send us?”

You nervously fiddled with D’s digits. “At least three levels lower.” You murmúred.

D was silent, watching your servo interlock with his. The room was quiet until he felt a pair of optics on him. He glanced up to see Orion staring. “What?”

“Oh nothing, nothing. Just watching how you never get upset at Y/N when we get caught but when it’s me, I get the five-minute silent treatment.”

“But it wasn’t Y/N's fault.”

“Yeah, Orion, I’m completely innocent. You're just jealous.” You chimed in, grinning.

“Wh-Innocent?! You insisted on staying, even when we heard guards coming towards us. Right, D??"

D hummed thoughtfully. "I think they’re pretty innocent. Accidents happen.” He shrugged, giving you a sweet grin.

“Oh, Primus…” Orion groaned.

Now let’s move onto Megatron.

He was so, so delighted to hear that you wanted to join his side in the end. You thought he loved and was obsessed with you before? He’s even worse now.

He made you his right-hand, his advisor, his confidant, his fiercest warrior—his everything. Whenever he rallied his army, promising to fix Cybertron his way, he would raise his fist as a symbol of his leadership. And yet, even in that powerful gesture, your servo was grasped in his.

He held your servo up alongside his, he was ecstatic. Sure, you might not be as..mad as he was, but you supported him, even kept him in check when necessary. If you two are the same, well you add onto each others crazy :3 (explodes)

[jiminrings]

fail-safe

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 8k

glimpse: growing up, your brother's best friend always berated you for not having a passion in life outside of loving him from afar. when yoongi leaves everything he's ever known for everything he's ever wanted, trying to move on from him becomes your biggest aspiration.

alternatively, yoongi left when you needed him the most, and comes back home at a time when you love him the least.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]

[ a Lot of angst, eventual fluff, brother's best friend AND single dad au, So Much Yearning, unrequited love (initial), jealousy, self-deprecation, a lot of talk abt passion in an empty n hurtful way that most impassioned youngest children feel (it's a specific feeling idk!!!), eventual redemption in the next parts ]

notes: finally got to writing a new series!!! i'm beyond excited for this + this whole new concept and flow i haven't touched on before <3 i hope u love fail-safe as much as i do :-)

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! | series masterlist

Yoongi buys atleast one scratch ticket a week.

The accessibility of buying one is top-notch considering that all he has to do is cross the street, shoot one look to the cashier, and he can either already go hunch in the corner of the road or in the comfort of his room. The moment his coin takes its first dig and he realizes that he’s won yet again, he’s satisfied enough not to buy another ticket.

He doesn’t want to risk losing the win he’s just gained, the odds of him throwing out money besting his chances in adding to his earnings. He thinks everyone’s a little greedy one way or another, but it’s the righteous part of him that thinks he’s different.

You do think that he is for all the right reasons, your vision only tunneling for him alone. He’s this fixed older figure in your life and you can’t figure out how to shrug him off — he’s this generous leech that sucks all of the rationality from your mind but returns it to you twofold, whether in the form of him saying something unintentionally endearing that it makes your chest hurt, or through him having to lightly smack the back of your head.

Yoongi’s your older brother’s best friend and there’s a novelty tag that comes with him, one that can’t be topped by any material possession to your name. He’s there for you, not in the exact way you want him to be, but nonetheless there. He’s special and unattainable at the same time, the finiteness of his love barely extending to you.

He’s there when you want him to burn the latest songs onto a CD you’ve spent all your allowance in, and he’s there when you get annoyed that he sneaked some of his own recommendations in there. You’re there when you later admit that his suggestions aren’t half-bad, and you also happen to be there when he grins at the praise.

He’s there when Namjoon won’t cough up the last slice of his cutlet, not because he’ll actually give you his, but because he’ll help your brother guard his plate. You’d only have to mope for a solid of three seconds before the two of them give up both of their last slices, and you’re there when Yoongi insists for you to try the sauce in the spirit of going out of your routine.

You don’t need Yoongi every single time but in the event that you do, he hangs back. He contemplates and hesitates and doesn’t give in to every single whim that you have, but he’ll be there. He lingers like the last holiday ornament you don’t want to remove until it’s February, his presence being oddly similar to your favorite festivities.

Yoongi’s the equivalent of a holiday you look forward to with each passing month and day; he comes around to and for you in instances, but never even in your most sincere wishes.

“I buy one scratch ticket a week — three if I’m really feeling lucky. When my palms itch, that’s when I know that I really need to buy them.”

He’s calm and collected even when you’re scrunching your nose up at him in combined worry and disbelief, humming mindlessly as you collect your thoughts. He randomly told you about his lottery routine and you’re still trying to wrap your head around how he blows his money off just easily. Yoongi has the mind to put scrap cardboard under you because sitting on the hot concrete with your uniform on can’t possible be a good idea, but you try to play off your fluster into stubbornness.

He’s just playing with his two ever-present coins (lucky charms as he calls them)— one that’s shiny and minted in the present year, the other being the oldest coin he’s ever had that happens to be older than he is — while you mutter about.

“I don’t know, Yoongs. That might be a gambling problem,” you squint, your side comment being heard clearly as day. “Might be the symptoms for hand, foot, and mouth disease too.”

“What— I do not have a gambling problem! My skin’s perfectly fine too, thanks,” he defends, the light shove he gives you doing nothing to tone down your teasing.

“That’s what people with gambling problems say.”

“Give me that-…” he mutters, trying to wrestle you for the sundae he bought you using the money he won from his scratch ticket just awhile ago. You don’t give in easily, even if your laughs that come straight from your chest suggest otherwise. “You don’t get it. It’s just this nice, fun little thing I can look forward to every week. I always buy the cheapest version anyway so when I lose, it’s not a big deal.”

You relent (like you always do when it comes to Yoongi) in understanding, waving him off after regaining your breath. “Nah. I get it. We all have to do things so we wouldn’t lose our shit,” you trail, racking your head to find the right words.“Yours is buying scratch tickets, and mine is-…”

“Yours is what?” Yoongi raises an eyebrow, lips quirked in eagerness to know where you’re going with this. He can’t pinpoint a single thing he can attach to you and neither can you, your actual interests merely reflecting those of the people whom you love.

You love cross-stitching because your mom loves doing it, the tolerance you have for accidentally being pricked by the needle growing over time.

You enjoy playing badminton because Namjoon’s obsessed with the sport, no matter how ratty your rackets and shuttlecocks have become, and no matter how much he pushes you to ring the doorbell to your neighbor’s when he’s sent it flying to their backyard.

You’re probably an imposter yet you don’t feel like it. You don’t feel bad that your life most probably and will only revolve around your mom and Namjoon (maybe even Yoongi); you don’t feel dissatisfied that your life’s mundane. 

You go where your love goes.

“Mine is watching you buy scratch tickets,” you shrug easily as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, making him laugh heartily. You’ve probably done something right because he hauls you up to your feet immediately.

“Get up. I’m buying you your first ticket,” he nudges you, grabbing you by the arm in excitement.

“But I’m not even legal!” you half-heartedly argue, internally excited that you’re finally getting to try your hand at the lottery because you’ve spent a few hundred minutes of your life tuned to the channel to pass the time, awaiting the results for something you haven’t even betted for.

“Right. Like I haven’t seen you trying to squeeze out a drop of beer from our empty cans whenever Namjoon and I drink.”

“Rude,” you roll your eyes playfully, gathering your things from the ground.

“It’s okay. I’ll give you your first sip of beer too if you want,” Yoongi offers sincerely; easily as if you’ve just asked him about the weather.

He’s here to buy you your first scratch ticket, and he’s still here to offer giving you your first sip of liquor in the future.

Your family friend for a cashier vehemently ignores the fact that you’re still underage to participate in the lottery, and instead only chuckles to herself in amusement. She’s an aunt that knows when to step in and not to, and she knows you won’t be harmed by a mere bet. In fact, she knows you won’t be harmed by anything with Yoongi in tow.

“I already used up all my change,” your frown in realization, holding the ticket in your hands in despair despite having scoured your wallet repeatedly.

“Rub it against the pavement. That’s what I do,” Yoongi lies fluidly, a scoff being caught in his throat when you actually attempt to do it.  “I was only kidding, Y/N. Jeez,” he groans, pulling out his wallet. “Ugh. Here. You can have one of my lucky coins.”

It’s the old one, tarnished beyond relief that you can barely recognize what it’s actual value is supposed to be.

“Ew. I’m giving it back. It looks prehistoric,” you narrow your eyes, knowing that you don’t even have to put your fingers nears your nose to know that it’s already left a faint stench on them.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, a habit he can’t tell he’s formed himself or got from you. “If you use your brain for one second, you’d realize that it’s actually worth more because it’s older. Collectors would go crazy for that in the future.”

“That sounds like a hoarding problem.”

He’s just had about enough of your whining so he attempts to trade in the old coin for his lucky new one, but you stop him at the last minute with a meek smile.

“Kidding. Thank you. I’ll keep it safe, Yoongi. I promise,” you rush out before he changes his mind, scratching your ticket in silence.

He waits for you because you’re scratching so politely and neatly, a stark opposite to his experienced skill of scratching the paint off in ten strokes or less.

Your face is too close to the ticket that Yoongi can’t tell what’s happening, making him part your hair like a curtain to peek.

“Did you win?”

“Nope.”

“Let me throw that out for you.”

“No!” you squeak, keeping the ticket close to your chest. It’s a bummer that your first time is a loss, but it didn’t mean that you wanted to forget the sentiment behind it. “I-I mean no, I’ll keep it. It’s memorable now that I think about it.”

“Alright,” he shrugs carelessly, a smile breaking out in retaliation. “Hoarder.”

“Gambler,” you spit, tucking the ticket into your pencil case. “Next week again?”

Yoongi agrees, wrapping his head around the fact that he doesn’t have to be alone in his little routine every Friday.

“Sure.”

( ♡ )

You don’t mind getting hand-me-downs.

As a matter of fact, you love receiving them. The wear and tear of the things that came before you is only proof that it’s been loved enough to be passed on to you.

You adore your mother’s dainty vintage watch that she wore throughout college, the hardware and sentiment behind it being pretty enough that you don’t mind constantly getting the battery replaced. You like Namjoon’s shirts that he’s outgrown, even through the numerous phases he’s had wherein only denim and tie-dye filled his closet.

You don’t mind the history behind the numerous things you have in your home, unbothered that you’re probably the only house in the block with the oldest possible rice cooker. The chips in the staircase aren’t covered up with marker ink and neither are the loose stitches in the couch quilt snipped off. It’s home to your mother and Namjoon — if it’s good enough for them, then it’s already the best for you.

Even on top of everything, you don’t mind your family almost always getting you shirts and shoes that have an allowance in them. Your mom would go to Seoul and pick out the exact pair of sneakers you wanted that are atleast three sizes bigger than your actual feet, and you’d barely bat an eye. 

You don’t mind the coziness of things that are brought to you, because even if they weren’t offered, you’d seek them yourself. 

So when Yoongi mentioned that he’s decluttering his room and needed someone (read: you) to vacuum it up for him, you jump at the chance. You take a grocery bag with you, wear the nearest pair of slippers within your vicinity, and book it to his house as soon as he finished talking.

“Go crazy, kid. Almost everything in that pile is garbage so you can take anything.”

“I feel like I should be more offended than how I feel right now,” you hum, furrowing your eyebrows at the pile in front of you. It’s a mound of Yoongi, or atleast everything he’s ever wanted up until he decided to do a general cleaning of his bedroom.

Yoongi chuckles, going through his pile of clean laundry for him to fold on the side while you scavenge for his things. “It’s either I have you take them or I get ripped off at the thrift store, then I see somebody’s uncle wearing my shirt as an added insult.”

You huff, rummaging through his heap of belongings while conveniently trying to ignore that you may look like somebody’s uncle the moment you wear his clothes. Everything is him; every distressed cap, every unfinished embroidered shirt, and every item of old significance with his initials branded on it.

The thick gray hoodie you’ve been eyeing (along with its owner) for the better part of the last few years surfaces into your field of vision, your gasp audible enough to make him jolt because he thought you’d gotten hurt.

“No way, this too? But this is your favorite,” you half-complain and half-rejoice, turning the hoodie inside-out eagerly in the fear that there’s a catch to it belonging in the pile.

“Eh. I know it looked good on me but I don’t think it’s my favorite. Besides, I’ve bulked up! Wanna feel?” Yoongi grins, his segue eerily similar to your brother’s at every given chance. A neighbor from down the block recently opened a small-time gym, and the both of them have not been able to shut their mouths about it since. From their gossiping alone, Yoongi and Namjoon have generated enough advertising already.

“You and Namjoon really have to stop asking random people to feel your biceps.”

There’s random knick-knacks throughout the clump in the middle of his bed, some being too good and actually useful that you snag them. Yoongi lets you do what you want anyways (most of the time), not having to turn his head to berate you on what you’re only allowed to grab from his stuff.

You’re not greedy — you already have his hoodie and that should be enough on its own. But there’s that handkerchief with his initials embroidered on it, then that Rubik’s cube he swore his relative got for him from New York, and even the little butterfly knife he got from a souvenir shop when his family when to the beach.

There were those and there is this, looking up at you in all of its glory.

“Yoongi.” 

“What now?” he sighs at your dramatic gasp, looking up from his folded laundry to see what you were going on about. It takes a second for him to fully realize why exactly were you so pumped.

“Are you serious? Your helmet?” you squeal, already hugging the shiny red mass close to you. “Does this mean you’re passing your motorcycle to me?!”

“Are you crazy? Fuck no,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, snatching his helmet back from you. He doesn’t miss the bratty frown that fills up your entire face; he’s not exactly the biggest fan whenever you were upset or angry; maybe even both. “Obviously I forgot I even put my helmet there when I made that pile.”

You whine, stomping your feet in exasperation. You would dramatically plop down on his bed if only it wasn’t full of his shit. “Come on! You told me you were teaching me as soon as you finish teaching Joon.”

“Teaching you how to ride my scooter is not the same as giving you it. Why would I just hand you what I bought with my hard-earned money?” Yoongi scrunches his nose, tone sharper than what he intended.

“But you still haven’t taught me,” you murmur to placate yourself and dissuade yourself from the delusion that Yoongi would even exert such an effort for you because of course — why would he do that for you?

You have an inkling that you’re being irrational for all the wrong reasons, perhaps even projecting your need to be looked after… by him.

Yoongi notices your mood that turned sour quickly, the silence between you becoming loaded. He didn’t mean to be that blunt. “I don’t think you’re even old enough to have your driving permit,” he adds in consolation, voice considerably softer.

You snicker lowly, still looking at your feet with your arms crossed. “But I’m old enough to backpack whenever you need me to carry shit that can’t fit in your carrier.”

He immediately groans at your comeback, his furrowed eyebrows mirroring yours. “You’re so stubborn.”

“You’re a hypocrite,” you retort, knowing for a fact he’s known how to drive even before he was eligible for permits and licenses and whatnot. 

Yoongi takes one, two seconds to himself to regain his composure, clearing his head in the process. You’re still not looking at him and you’re pouting and you don’t even notice the latter, making him crack a small smile.

“I will teach you next week.”

“Oh my-…”

He cuts you off, raising his hand in emphasis. “Provided that you listen to everything I say and wear full gear at all times. You clearly don’t have a job yet-…”

“Ouch.”

“And I don’t have the extra money to buy full gear for myself, so what you’ll do is bundle up with your padded coat and the thickest jeans you have,” Yoongi enunciates every word, eyes keenly on you. They’re too wide and alert, you actually feel like listening to him.

“You go on rides wearing your pajamas.”

“Just say ‘thank you, Yoongi’.” 

“You haven’t done anything yet,” you trail off, head tilting in confusion. 

You’ve had a million conversations like this with Yoongi before but of different fonts; worn, familiar, and warm.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” he mouths, nodding at you to do the same. He won’t stop until you utter them back to him, and you know you won’t go home either without giving him your gratitude as you always do.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you relent, the grin that breaks through your lips being infectious enough that he laughs lowly to himself.

He exhales all the worries he has and could possibly ever have seeing you ride the motorcycle (or for you yearning to do everything that he does), grasping at whatever sanity he has left from looking after you.

“You can have the helmet.”

( ♡ )

Yoongi knows the ins and outs of your home.

He’s been at your house too much to the point that your mom already gave him a spare key and nobody batted an eye about it. He has his own designated slippers at the entryway too, something you would only use in a hurry if you needed to sign off on a package.

Yoongi, for some reason unfathomable (not really; you can tell exactly why because your mom is an extremely warm and inviting person), also has the power of dibs on the food in your fridge. He’d put strips of masking tape with his name on food that’s neither brought in nor made for him in the first place. 

It should be off-putting — the way that for too many yet too little reason, Yoongi has become a prominent figure in your life even if you didn’t ask him to. You should be peeved that you have to set up four plates more often that you set up only three; you should be annoyed at some point that when you wake up at random times through the night, you’re not totally alone to begin with.

You shouldbe angry at Yoongi to a degree because he’s in your life and you don’t get to have a say on how he stays in it. The only problem is that you’re not, and probably never will.

“Can’t sleep?” you mutter as you look up from your strikingly clear paper, seeing Yoongi strut across the floor with a casualness that only real occupants of the house should supposedly possess. He has his brows furrowed at you as if he didn’t expect to see you in your living room, scratching his head in wonder.

“Why are you up?”

“Stressed,” you sigh, giving up altogether in attempting to make yourself look busy. Yoongi drives by your fridge to get himself a can of beer, finally seating himself beside you on the floor. 

“Stressed about what? I’m sure it’s not about studying,” he snorts, unsurprised at your paper and the clear lack of motivation behind it. You only roll your eyes at him and he has half a mind to not remind you to not do it so much, the frown in your face reminding him that you really were frustrated.

It is you to throw the occasional tantrum, but he remembers that it was only when you were young; when Namjoon would whisper gibberish to his ear and purposely not whisper to yours just so he could tease you, or when nobody would believe that you taught yourself how to ride a bike with no training wheels. You didn’t know how to do the latter at all, but what had made you throw a tantrum was that nobody believed you.

You notice Yoongi’s digs, of course. You notice each one of his more than unsubtle nods to your intelligence and whatnot, the shots at your intellect not flying over your head like he expected them to.  You admit that you’ve never been that scholastic; you weren’t born a genius and you don’t try exactly hard either.

Yoongi’s only joking but you can’t help but to think that he’s pertaining to something deeper, his constant digs at your lack of a passion making you sluggish.

“We have to write this essay,” you answer simply, your tone straightforward and unwilling for banter but Yoongi bites anyway.

“But essays are the easiest,” he trails, looking at you the whole time as he takes a sip of his beer.

You exhale heavily because no matter what, he just can’t seem to get it. Yoongi knows where you’re coming from but he doesn’t know where you’re headed. As a matter of fact, you don’t know where you’re headed either. “We have to write an essay about where we see ourselves ten years from now.”

“But that’s still easy.”

“If it’s so easy, then go write it for me,” you snicker, leaning back with a huff. He constantly undermines you and although you own up to your striking mundaneness from time to time, it didn’t mean that you liked being looked down on. Yoongi’s too used to you being yourself, he gets taken aback when you grow sick of your own.

He gathers all his willpower, far from being sleepy unlike you who would’ve been lulled to sleep if only you weren’t dead-set on arguing with him. “You know what? I actually will,” he claps, handing you his beer. “Go hold this for me.”

Yoongi grips your pen for dear life like you hold his beer, his hand warm as he works from sheer determination alone (he’s not competing with anyone except for whatever expectation you have for him and your paper), while yours was cold just holding his drink.

You’ve been so quiet that he actually gets curious, turning his head to check to see if you’ve dozed off when actually, it’s just you eyeing the can.

“No one’s watching,” Yoongi breaks you out of your thoughts, carelessly shrugging. He cares and he’s far too concerned for you, but he figures that nothing would hurt you so long as he can grasp you. “It’s okay. You can have your first sip.”

You blink owlishly at him and when he jokes about taking it back, you take your first swig of beer in a panic. Yoongi only shakes his head in amusement, pausing his writing just to see the look on your face.

“One more?” he asks right after he sees you wince, the unbearable sweetness yet bitter, stinging aftertaste of the beer making you shudder. 

You have the urge to wash off the taste with ice cold water (you’ll even drink from the tap because you’re so desperate), but you resist it just so you wouldn’t look like a weakling in front of him. You wave him off with a bitterness, upset that beer doesn’t taste like what you’ve always imagined it to be. “Just write my essay for me,” you mull over the taste in your tongue, in deep thought while you stare at Yoongi’s back ahead of you. “Do all beers taste that way?”

“Eh. Most of them do. You develop a taste for it later on,” he answers, taking the can back from you before drinking it himself. He looks too dedicated in writing your essay, only goading the curiosity in you to peek over his shoulder.

He knows you, both in heart and memory, because he shields your own paper from you when he sees your shadow hovering above him.

“Yoongi?”

“Hm.”

“I told you why I’m up. Why are you up?”

He’s silent entirely, the only indication that he heard your question being his hand pausing abruptly. Yoongi doesn’t answer, and you don’t ask again. “Don’t worry about it.”

You take his answer to heart, dozing off on the couch before you know it. You don’t remember a blanket being placed on you, nor can you remember preparing your backpack for school the next day.

Your paper’s neatly tucked into your portfolio bearing handwriting that’s clearly not yours, but with a sentiment that’s similar nonetheless. You read through everything quickly before even stepping towards your teacher, the tips of your fingers just as cold as Yoongi’s beer last night.

You’ve committed the paper into your memory, even until the last part with an excerpt you can’t forget despite having passed the paper already. You don’t know what to feel because it’s Yoongi who’s speaking for you, detailing that ten years from now, you will still be your mother’s daughter and your brother’s sister.

He wrote your essay either for you or in behalf of you, and you can’t tell which one is better.

Yoongi, who knows the ins and outs of your home and the peaks and troughs of your heart, writes in clear handwriting — Ten years from now, I will still be Yoongi’s rock.

( ♡ )

Surprisingly, Yoongi hasn’t been around that much lately.

Even Namjoon (who you consider as his Siamese twin) is clueless to why his friend hasn’t been hanging out with him lately to do either everything or nothing, confused because they’re enrolled to the same classes all the way to the same part-time jobs, yet Yoongi’s been mostly unavailable.

When Yoongi is, however, he doesn’t speak at all about his previous absences. He comes as if he’s never disappeared a few times before that, his evasion to talk about his presence being apparent even if you’ve asked him directly.

You’re getting used to his new routine of hanging out with you only when the both of you are free, no longer moving mountains for both of your schedules to line up. He’s more present this month than he was at the last, the criteria for it being how many times you bump into him in your own home.

Despite all odds and evens though, Yoongi can’t get used to your silence. He knows you hold grudges longer than your brother, and the last time that he checked, he knows you’ve already let go of your annoyance for him suddenly being unavailable without any explanation. 

It’s late, only the two of you are awake in the living room, there’s ten scratch tickets on the table for you to share, and he’s even gotten you your own glass to which he’ll put a controlled amount (a grand total of two long sips) of his own beer in. You’re not stressing about an essay this time, but the unconscious pout on your face is still the same.

“You’re awfully quiet.”

The frown on your face only goes deeper at being found out, the scratch of your lucky coin being the only clear thing that Yoongi hears. 

“My best friends want to have this slumber party,” you sigh, more upset about what you’ve just uttered than you are happy about the cash prize you’ve just won.

Yoongi takes what you say at face-value, groaning at his third straight loss for the night. “That’s great. Wear cute pajamas, snap a couple of polaroids, don’t be the first to fall asleep and last to wake up, and just keep a pocket knife with you when you’re going out by yourself.” 

The awe (and slight concern) over what he said should roll in any time now.

You should be comforted at Yoongi’s words because they’re supposed to ease the swirl of your stomach, even if what he just said is a repackaged version of what your family said before. You should let go of your worries because Yoongi, of all people, says that it’s supposed to be great.

Instead, you feel neither of what you think Yoongi wants you to.

“Was it something I said?” he mumbles after some time, turning his nose up at you as he tries to retrace his words. “I have an extra pocket knife you can borrow if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“We’re gonna be talking about boys, Yoongi,” you screw your eyes shut, sighing into the palms of your hands with a heaviness. “We’re gonna talk about crushes and experiences and all that.”

He shudders at that, his reaction mirroring Namjoon’s when you tried opening up to him. You get your brother’s reaction to a degree, of course, because you feel as if you’d be disgusted too if the roles were reversed. You want to talk about it with your mom too, but at the end of the day, she’s your parent and you just can’t talk about anything and everything with her. 

Yoongi’s your next plausible option.

“Do you want some ice cream right now? You know what, I’ll buy you-…” Yoongi tries to evade the topic altogether, his attempt of escaping feeble as you drag him down by his hoodie.

“I haven’t had my first kiss yet.”

“Heh.”

Yoongi shrugs at that, regaining his words when you deadpan at him. “So? What about it?”

You starfish on the floor at that out of frustration, the whine you’ve been bottling up coming out in the open because as usual, Yoongi doesn’t get it. “I-I’m probably the only one in my grade who hasn’t kissed someone yet! I can’t just lie carelessly because obviously, they’ll ask around.”

“So?” Yoongi chuckles, his breeze towards your state shocking you. “What’s it to them if you haven’t had your first kiss?”

“You don’t get it,” you grit through your teeth, crossing your arms so hard that it feels hard to inhale.

“I’m pretty sure I do,” he sing-songs, drinking the last of his beer. When you’re not looking though, he plans to either drink or chuck the remainder of your share because he doesn’t want you to develop a taste for it.

The anger you have for Yoongi bubbles up once again, the itch in your throat unbearable. You’re presented with the age gap between you once more, along with the raging emptiness in you that Yoongi’s reached so far and you’ve reached so little.

“You don’t get it because you’ve had all of these experiences when you were younger than my age right now,” you snap, although you don’t look at him when you do. If you do look at him though, you’ll only be reminded of how a face like his could have everything in this world — even a first kiss you’ve never had.

“Yeah, and so?” he knits his brows, growing defensive. You weren’t lying at all, but he still feels a little offended at the dig. He’s not not proud of it, but with the way you say it, it’s like you want him to burn in shame,

“Stop saying so,” you angrily mumble in frustration, a little breathless because you still don’t ease up on crossing your arms.

Yoongi straightens his posture, staring you down with his jaw set. He’s stern as he is, nostrils flaring in irritation. “No, Y/N. I’m genuinely asking — so what? What’s it to you if I had my first kiss at a younger age? What about it if everyone else in your grade has kissed someone and you haven’t? It’s not the end of the world.”

“I-I don’t know! It’s just unfair!” you let up, yielding to both the facts that Yoongi’s right with it not being the end of the world, and that you’re still entitled to feeling upset.

“Instead of spending time obsessing over your first kiss, maybe I don’t know,  try being productive? You’re heading to college soon and you haven’t even thought of a career,” Yoongi goes off on you, making you roll your eyes automatically. There he goes again with the great big push of trying to push you into your supposed passions in life. “Someone else’s luck doesn’t mean it’s already your misfortune.”

“But it is.”

You say it so definitively, you almost convince him. You have your principles and so does Yoongi, but not everyone else. You have your principles yet you don’t have the luck. You’re not getting anywhere in life just like Yoongi or anyone else who was remotely born into wealth, no matter how quiet or obvious.

You can’t pursue something that interests you in the slightest without thinking what would come out of it. You can’t think of a degree and a course you’ll stick with, enough to do for the rest of your life because the only other option is to fail completely if you don’t. You have no plan and no passion and you don’t know if you’ll ever amount to anything to anyone at all.

By all means, you don’t agree with Yoongi this time. Someone else’s luck is your misfortune, in the same way that his first kiss doesn’t mean that it’s yours.

The sidetrack to your argument is a closed case already, judging by your downcast gaze. “I just have to put myself out there, that’s all. My first kiss doesn’t even have to mean anything. I just want to have it,” you admit, shoulders relaxing.

“Don’t,” Yoongi groans, the opposite of you as his whole body tenses.

He thinks that you don’t get him at all.

“What do you meandon’t?”

Your argument’s long-over (atleast you thought it was) but Yoongi’s getting more agitated by the minute, the disbelief on his face throwing you off. “Don’t do things just because you feel like you have to! Are you even hearing yourself right now?”

“I don’t want to be left behind, Yoongi! That’s all I’m trying to get at,” you raise your hands in surrender, shrugging thoughtlessly — it makes him want yell into a paper bag in exasperation. “I don’t want to be picked last. I don’t want to not be wanted.”

Yoongi exhales, screwing his eyes shut. It stays silent like that for a little while; him calming himself down, and you scratching your tickets. The calm doesn’t stay for long because you open your mouth carelessly, again.

“Can you be my first kiss?”

“Are you insane?”

“Ugh.”

You go back to your fourth scratch ticket, pouting in disappointment. You’re unfazed about the win that’s probably the largest sum you’ve had ever since you started doing the lottery.

You’re upset and you’re sick in the stomach but you stay silent like you never asked Yoongi to be your first kiss; it’s like you haven’t indirectly admitted to him that you love him enough, more than so, to want him to be your first.

You’re about to scratch the final ticket when Yoongi juts his hand out, fingers barely brushing yours to stop you.

“On second thought, don’t scratch that. Just keep it.”

“Because you want to turn me into a hoarder too?” you snicker, heeding his suggestion regardless.

“Because I’m not going to be right about everything,” Yoongi mumbles, looking at you with a solemnness you can’t decipher.

You try until the solemnness turns into pity.

“Still don’t want to be my first kiss?”

Yoongi softly laughs to your face, smiling as he lets you down — whether easily or harshly, you can’t tell.

“You already know what I’m going to say.”

( ♡ )

You’d like to think that you’re not kept in the dark about most things.

You already know that although your mom hasn’t had any relationships since your dad left, she still has plenty of suitors. Some of them are the reason why you have random food deliveries in the middle of the dinner that she’s already cooked, some have sucked up to her by getting you and Namjoon gifts. 

You know about Namjoon’s growing love for football, even with the lessons he takes in secret because he didn’t want to trouble your mom for the money. It’s why he does his part-time job and why you’re looking for one anyways. You don’t want nor need much, so you almost always give him the remainder of your allowance by the end of each week.

Yoongi, on the other hand, you don’t know much about. You know that he’s an only child with a doting mom who works overseas and a rich but emotionally unavailable dad at home, and that’s about it. His home life is synonymous with yours, considering that your four walls have become an extension of his.

Maybe you’ve become too lenient on him — either that, or he’s become too disrespectful. It’s at times like these where your house is not his home, sickeningly so that you don’t want it to be yours either.

Yoongi is a sight to behold as he makes out with a half-naked girl on your bed, in your room. Your room has never been the neatest but with everything going on, it feels that it’s become the dirtiest that it’s ever been. Your house slippers are on the floor even if you always leave them by the entryway, and your sheets are a mess despite being one of the only things you try to keep folded in the room.

You’re angry, too much to the point that the words get caught in your throat. They catch onto bile and venom and everything at once, the strain in your voice heard when you yell.

“What the fuck?!”

Yoongi and the girl, whom you figure out to be Hyewon that he’s shared his first kiss with, jolt in unison. Hyewon’s scared shitless while Yoongi’s annoyed to death, the grunt he lets out pricking your ears further. “Sorry, sorry. She’s my best friend’s sister. She’s so annoying,” he drags you out of your room before he even gives you the entitlement to storm out of there in a fit of rage, seeing red the longer that he seems upset at you.

“What the fuck was that, Yoongi?” you grit through your teeth, the moment of you seeing red turn into white because you’re so frustrated that you could actually cry. Your chest’s heavy, not only out of rage, but out of everything that’s built up in the course of years.

“Can you keep it down?” Yoongi seethes, pursing his lips. “What, would you rather see us do it in the living room?”

“In the — what? Who do you think you are? This isn’t even your house, why are you bringing these girls here?” you point an accusing finger at him yet he doesn’t back away, his annoyance for you only growing tenfold.

He’s in the wrong no matter which way you look at it yet he doesn’t realize it, the epiphany that Yoongi genuinely thinks he’s in the right for doing this to you making your skin burn in fire.

“This is literally the first time I’ve ever done this! I can’t bring her back to my place, my dad has guests over!”

“So your smartest idea is to fuck someone in my bed?”

“Oh, you’re welcome. It’s the most action your four walls have ever seen,” he spits sarcastically, eyes narrowing at you. It takes little effort for him to dig up what you came to him for in worry and it terrifies you. The facet of Yoongi who had sternly told you that it was okay to be left behind if it means getting what you deserve, resembling nothing like him at the moment.

“I can’t believe you!” you whisper as you tremble, the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. “I told you that in confidence.”

“In confidence? It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’re not exactly a catch, Y/N.”

You clench your jaw so hard that it hurts, you ball your fists so tightly that it stings.

You leave your home without saying another word.

.

.

.

Namjoon’s panicked.

He came home a little later than usual because he had maximized the life out of his soccer lessons, only getting the signal to leave when the lights were turned off. He was only slightly worried at the first place because he was supposed to cook dinner for the both of you, but he placated himself by realizing that you’re not the baby that he still thinks you are — you could cook dinner for yourself if you were hungry already.

He thinks nothing of it. In fact, he just makes a quick stop at the convenience store so the both of you could indulge in a liter of ice cream without your mom urging to leave some for another night. You could think of a recipe from scratch (and it almost always works out at the end), so Namjoon walked in fully thinking he’ll get to sniff whatever concoction you have.

Except, he walks into a completely dark house, and that’s when he panics.

He can’t find your slippers by the entryway and you’re not in your room either. You’re not at the other convenience store hunched over taking your chances on scratch tickets, and you’re not out on the street either going people-watching.

The panic rises in him the more that Namjoon grasps this is the first time that this has ever happened and he doesn’t know why. He’s always made an effort to be absorbed into both your personal and academic affairs, and as far as he knows, you’re neither in a sleepover nor on a field trip somewhere.

Namjoon thinks it’s his fault someway somehow, and the guilt can’t fully dissipate from him until he sees you.

“Hey, Yoongi,” he breathlessly gasps the moment his friend answers, the latter being surprised because he thought it was you who was calling him after what happened awhile ago.

It’s his fault and he’s realized that hours too late, and the selfish part of him thinks that it’s you calling at ten in the evening begging for forgiveness.

“What’s up, man? It’s late,” he wonders out loud, thinking for a second if they were too much of the Siamese twins that you tease them to be because he can’t think of a rational reason why Namjoon would call him at this time of night.

Namjoon raggedly exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m just wondering if you’ve seen Y/N by any chance?”

Yoongi’s heart drops so loudly that Namjoon thought for second that his friend had hung up on him, his urgency being shared the moment that he asked.

“What? Y/N isn’t home?” Yoongi asks in disbelief, immediately being filled with anxiety and disbelief. Just awhile ago, the two of you were arguing outside of your room. He did hear you leave, but he had fully expected for you to be back hours ago. He’s wracked with guilt all over, the drop in his chest amplified by the pit in his stomach.

“She’s not. Practice ran late and I-I know she’s responsible so I didn’t hurry home,” Namjoon recalls, being more and more frazzled by the second. “She left her phone here, and mom isn’t here either because she’s visiting my grandparents, a-and I don’t want to call her because I know she’ll be worried, a-and-…”

Yoongi interrupts him, the tremble in his fingers only enabling him to dig his nails into his palm deeper. “I’m coming over. Let’s look for her together.”

It barely takes a minute for the both of them to come together, not even exchanging any pleasantries with each other before Yoongi steps on the gas. 

Namjoon’s filled with guilt, the type that only a sibling could carry as a burden. He thinks he was too selfish — too accustomed to pulling your own weight that it must have given you the impression that you had no other choice but to. Whatever it was that made you leave out of the blue, Namjoon thinks he could’ve done more. He should’ve came home and made you dinner as promised, for starters. He’s guilty over the fact that he’s the only close familial male figure in your life and he let this happen, as he makes Yoongi put his headlights on high-beam, scanning for anyone that looks remotely like you.

Yoongi, on the other hand, is filled with a guilt he can’t even begin to explain. It corrodes him from the inside-out in realization that he’s to blame for your sudden disappearance, the fact that Namjoon comes to him first to help find you not helping at all. If only your brother knew what he had done to you, he’s positive that he’ll be on the receiving end of a punch — what gets him more is that Yoongi wouldn’t blame him at all.

They see you in the bus stop two cities away, dressed in the same clothes you ran out with. 

Namjoon’s relieved beyond compare while Yoongi’s fuming, his hands tucked inside his jacket to prevent himself from squeezing you into an embrace; neither of you deserve it. 

There’s an underlying anger within Namjoon, one that lies behind the back of his throat as he checks you over for any injuries. The two of you walk ahead to Yoongi’s car while he himself trails behind, his heart significantly calmer than it was the past hour, yet nowhere near normal.

“Wanna tell me what you did?” your brother hums, trying to exhale the worry that’s embedded into him with each squeeze he gives around your shoulders.

“Went to the convenience store, bumped into my friends, then we took this impromptu roadtrip to go to the night market, then we all had our first actual shot of liquor and not just beer, my friend who owns the car turned out to be a lightweight, and now everyone just has to commute home,” you narrate in recollection, squeezing Namjoon back to try and ground him.

“Okay,” he answers simply, nodding. “Wanna tell me what happened before you did all those things?”

The breathless chuckle that leaves you is empty, void of any amusement at all. You smile nonetheless, unable to placate both yourself and Namjoon. “Nope.”

You arrive in silence to Yoongi’s car, the words unsaid between the three of you generating more tension than your brief disappearance itself.

Yoongi opens the front door for you, but you settle for sitting in the backseat.

[drunkenkissesatdusk]

MADE FOR LOVIN' YOU BABY

pairings — max verstappen x reader

warnings — nothing but fluff, pretty much just domestic love yk, kinda like the Jason Todd one i wrote

summary — Max wasn't actually a mean guy outside of the grid, he was actually a very loving guy that you had fallen for.

notes — writing f1 stuff will this thrive like my batfam stuff (also this is on my computer so it might be different) (and i’m also kinda writing on my phone?? idk) and it’s crazy short whoops

━━━━━━━ YOU WERE GLAD that Max was finally on his break. You could finally see him for a while, and he wasn't as busy with his media presence and all that. He was all yours until the season started back up again.

You could feel the stubble Max had yet to trim against your shoulder, and you tiredly turned to him, groaning before a smile landed across your face. Despite how early it was, Max's face was able to easily make up for that.

"Morning, Max." You scooted closer to him, kissing him softly. When you pulled away, you smiled happily at him. He smiled back, kissing you before you laid on his chest, feeling his heartbeat against your cheek.

You both stayed like that for another hour, before you got up and went to the kitchen while he delt with the few things he had to for the day. Eventually, he found you downstairs.

You had made a healthy enough breakfast, plating it up for the two of you to eat outside on your balcony. You two sat together on a small couch in a mess of tangled limbs. You remained there, even well after you both finished breakfast.

It was a comfortably quiet time, one the two of you had found yourselves accustomed to ever since he had begun his break from racing.

you had both found the time you spent together, tucked away in your home, had been spectacular thus far. you were now well adjusted to always having Max by you now.

“wish you could stay home like this forever.” you muttered tiredly into his chest, smiling when one of your cats hopped up to where they two of you laid together.

running your hand along the cats fur, you could feel Max looking at you. with a little effort, you finally met his eyes, which were filled with nothing but love and happiness.

“everyone on the grid is so wrong about you being a bad guy. you’re such a softie.” you teased, smiling and poking his side. he smiled wider, throwing his head back and laughing.

“you’re the only one who sees me this way, obviously everyone else thinks i’m a bad guy.” Max rolled his eyes.

“liar. not Charles. he’s probably more in love with you than me.” you joked, dropping your head back down onto his chest, listening to the steady beats of his heart.

it was calm all around. there weren’t any loud cars driving through, you could hear the birds around you two as the sky began to light up, the afternoon at a steady approach.

it just felt like morning. you two had on sweaters, blocking out the morning cold. eventually it would warm up a little more, but wouldn’t get unbearably warm like the summer would.

“i wish i could stay here forever, y’know. right here, on this couch, until we grow old and gray.” you began drawing patterns on his rising and falling chest. you felt it move with laughter, which made you laugh.

“go back inside and play Mario Kart?” Max grinned. you sat up, a determined look crossing your face as you nodded excitedly. you had bought the old Nintendo 64 console and multitude of fun games in Miami during the Miami Grand Prix. you and Max were obsessed.

round after round, insult after insult, it ended with the two of you laughing together in a mess of limbs on the floor.

all Max was made for was love, his insults never had any angry backing, his apologies were instantaneous after any argument, and his priorities in your relationship was very well set.

he did his best for you, and you returned the same bouts of love.

masterlist — reminder that asks / requests are open!!

[letorip]

clingy tara carpenter hcs?

clingy tara carpenter

idk why but i’m in a tara mood so this was definitely more fun to write. it’s more like headcanons than my normal ones just because i think it’s interesting to follow and i had lots of ideas but not necessarily following a through-line story like many of them do

you and Tara meet at Blackmore and she is instantly fixated on you. it’s something she tries to hide at first, she’s too used to being something of a cool, aloof girl

you’re friendly, kind, funny, and smart, and it feels weird— like when she’s with you, she’s finally breathing at full capacity. it’s kind of odd at first, that you cut away the facade she constantly puts up. with other people who chase her and flirt with her, it feels like breathing, but when you do it, it catches her off guard, and it makes her stumble, especially the first time

she’s always bugging asking Anika if you’re coming to hang out with them or at a party, and gets a bit disappointed whenever the answer is no. she’ll still go, since Mindy would kill her if she didn’t, but she’s way less excited than before

Tara decides to go the natural route, and see you out in public, but you don’t have the same major so you pretty much never cross paths on campus

she gets increasingly frustrated, going to back to back parties in search of you on a friday night, only to discover that your instagram story says you were actually at the library the entire time

she does the exact same thing the next day, on a saturday night, and ends up going to four parties only to find that you’re once more not even there

after giving up on that she just goes into your dms and musters enough courage after a week to finally send a message asking you to hang out

after you start dating, it’s even worse than tara thought

she needs you so so so bad, this girl is down atrocious

you’re pretty much inseparable after that point, not that tara would ever admit it. she’s not used to needing anyone ever, with sam leaving and her mom being the way she is ever

you go on a trip for a week with your family around the holidays and every night you and Tara fall asleep on the phone together, or you facetime for a while, and she’s counting down the days until you come back

she wants to know everything, and she watches with a small smile when you’re excitedly explaining how the trip is going

she picks you up from the airport with one of those cheesy signs, but she pretty much drops it and rushes into your arms, and she’s crying

she hates crying in public, but she’s missed you so much

she tells you everything about every movie she’s pretty much ever watched, sometimes as a way to help you sleep. you’re not actually completely listening, you just fall asleep better to her voice and movies are a thing she can talk about for a LOOOONG time

she’ll show you her favourites that she’s seen a million times, only instead of watching the movie, she’s watching your face and your expressions.

she tracks your location, but not because she’s suspicious of you. it’s because she’s paranoid that something could happen to you, and that’s the last thing she would want in the universe

if ghostface did ever come back, she’s the first to get you to safety. she’d definitely try the say-something-mean-to-get-you-to-leave tactic, but it wouldn’t work, and you’d just hold her, forehead to forehead while she cries about needing you and needing to keep you safe at the same time

she steals your shirts and your jackets whenever she can. it smells like you and it keeps her warm, and she’ll “accidentally” forget her jacket at home during the winter

she’s definitely a jealous person. she knows that everyone wants you and honestly she can’t blame them, but you’re hers and she wants everyone else to know. when a girl will approach you at the party that Tara brought you to, and she looks a little too comfortable, Tara will grab you by the arm and drag you hastily upstairs to claim her territory, and mark up your neck for proof

she’ll definitely be the type to deny she’s clingy. you’ll joking say “you’re so clingy” when she’s got her arms wrapped around you, and she’ll scoff and get genuinely offended by the insinuation that she needs you and clings to you

then of course she’ll want to cuddle 5 minutes later

thanks, hopefully will be posting again soon

[bluessmutifyplaylist]

Idk if requests are open feel free to ignore if they are closed….

But I need Idia x fem! reader (relationship establish if possible) were Idia is just dominant, like I need this man to handle me roughly after teasing him for so long!!! And maybe he also records this with her consent and they just go at it?!

Warnings: 18+, AFAB! Reader who uses she/her pronouns, Reader ≠ Yuu, Horny Dom! Idia, OOC, Rough sex, Oral (both receiving), praise/degradation kink at the same time, orgasm denial (on Reader’s part), hand around Reader’s neck (but doesn’t constrict air), unprotected sex, aftercare

Idia Shroud

He was getting tired of your antics.

First, you show up to his room unannounced. Now, this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. You often did that, and you didn’t need to tell him when you were coming. You were his girlfriend for about a year at this point, and he was comfortable with your visits.

Second, you take off the hoodie he had let you borrow (we all know that it was now yours, but anyway…) and reveal a very small crop-top and some small shorts. From that alone, he was already pitching a tent. However, he managed to get himself under control as he finished up some of his reports for his research with the overblots.

It was only when you started arching your back on his bed when he finally had enough. You had been doing all of this for a while since you were horny and pent-up, and he was pent-up as well because he had been working for the entire week without stopping.

He nearly pounced on you, pressing his lips to yours as his hand went up to your neck, wrapping itself around your throat gently.

“Are you done being a brat, Y/N?” He asked teasingly.

When you shook your head, his smirk widened as he lowered himself on the bed. He was soon faced with your pelvis and what could hardly be considered shorts. He made quick work of them until he was looking at your panties.

“You’re soaking down here…”

All of a sudden, you feel his tongue up against the fabric that was serving as a divider between your pussy and your boyfriend, and his hands held your thighs apart so you couldn’t do anything.

“Y/N, I’m gonna record this… I want to be able to remind you of what happens when you continue acting like a brat.”

He pulled away and grabbed his phone, turning on the camera and switching it to video before propping it up on the shelf opposite his bed. Once he was satisfied with the angle, he looked over at you.

You looked absolutely radiant, and he couldn’t wait to see tears in your eyes. “Get up and kneel,” His words came out as a demand, and you were more than eager to listen. Right in front of him, you got on your knees, and he slid down his grey sweatpants and boxers, exposing his half-hard cock.

It was pale, matching his skin tone, with a light blue tip… and you felt your mouth water before taking it into your mouth. His smirk widened as one of his hands buried itself in your hair, before grabbing on tightly and forcing himself down your throat.

“You’re going to take my dick like the pretty slut you are…”

The sound of you choking made his dick throb in your mouth, making his sharp teeth show in his smirk as he fucked your windpipes. His cock was covered in your saliva, and right before he came, he pulled himself out of your throat and denied himself a release.

He helped you back up onto his bed, his head going back to your panties with a toothy grin before he hooked his fingers on them and pulled them off, tossing them somewhere in his room. Then he moves in, his tongue diving into your pussy with fervor.

Your moans were acting as fuel for him, and he once again held your thighs apart as he continued eating you out. His tongue flicked against your clit, making you writhe under his grip until you got right at the peak, only for him to pull away. “This is supposed to be a punishment, you brat,” He teased, pushing you further on the bed before climbing on top of you. His hand went around your neck, but he made sure that it was just to pin you down and that he wasn’t going to restrict your airflow.

He took his dick in his hand and rubbed the tip up and down your pussy, collecting your fluids before he entered inside you. “You’re such a fucking slut, Y/N… My pretty whore…” He whispered as he just focused on penetration. For a few seconds, he allowed you to adjust to his size, but when you whimpered, he started going at it. There was no break as he thrusted in, out… in, out… in quick succession. Your mind was practically melting away as his pace sped up even more. He was pulling all the way out before thrusting all the way back in, making sure you felt every inch of his cock. He eventually flipped you both over until you were on top of him, straddling him. He placed his hands on your hips and guided you up and down his member, your moans serving as his fuel.

“There we go, baby… Take that dick…”

You reached your peak once again, but this time, he let you cum all over him, smiling as he quickly pulled out before he sprayed all over your stomach. He set you to the side of him so you could rest and catch your breath.

“Next time you act like a brat, you won’t cum. Understand?”

A nod from you was all the confirmation he needed, and he got up and stopped recording before heading to the bathroom and returning with a warm cloth to clean you up. Gently washing off your stomach, he smiled as he saw the video uploaded onto his computer.

[inthe-dark-tonight]

three days too long

rick grimes x fem!reader

summery: you wake up to a surprise after rick comes back from a three day long supply run

word count: 1.8k

warnings: prison era, secret relationship, reader is down bad for rick (just like me), smut, p in v sex, light biting??? idk

notes: well……. i’ve been rewatching the walking dead so naturally my rick era has resurfaced and i’m not sorry. expect more to come. thank you to my love @joelsversion for reading this over for me ILYSM!!! <3

You’re not sure when he got back or how long you had been asleep before he quietly snuck past the white sheets covering the door to your cell.

Rick had been gone on a supply run for three days, not knowing it would take that long when he left alongside Daryl and Glenn. You spent those three days doing anything to keep your mind off him and where he was at. Taking watch in the tower with Maggie one morning, watching after Judith a few hours each day, tending to the gardens. None of it helped to keep your thoughts from drifting towards Rick.

You start to stir when you feel warmth pressed against your back, a large arm snaking under you to wrap around your waist, the other across your chest as you lay on your stomach. Warm breath fans over your neck, tickling you as a humming sound sends a vibration through you. At that moment you know it’s him. He’s finally back.

“Rick?” Your sleepy voice comes out barely a whisper as your eyes begin to flutter open.

The moonlight seeping in through the barred windows of the prison, filtering through the white sheets you keep up for a bit of privacy, creates enough light for you to make out his figure.

“Shhhh,” His deep voice sends a shiver down your back. “Missed you baby,” he whispers, lips lightly brushing over your ear before planting a kiss on your cheek.

You hum softly, nuzzling into your pillow and shifting to make yourself more comfortable. Your hips lift up from the bed, unintentionally pressing into Rick’s as he pulls you closer to him. He lets out a low groan before you lie still again, and you can feel his bulge starting to grow in his jeans.

“I missed you too.” You finally answer, turning your head over your shoulder to get a good look at him.

He must've washed up before coming to see you, you think to yourself. His face was clean for just coming back from a run, not a single smudge of dirt on his cheeks, his hair slightly damp where it curls around his neck and ears.

“Three days too long for you, hm?” He smiles and a deep chuckle escapes him before kissing your cheek once more.

You take in a deep breath, eyes falling shut. “Way too long.” You hum.

He continues kissing you, lips moving slowly down to your jaw, trailing down the side of your neck. The feeling of his beard against your soft skin tickles you, causing you to shrug your shoulders. A soft giggle leaves your lips as you try to wiggle away from him, causing him to hold you tighter.

“Mm mm, stay still.” He plants one last kiss on your shoulder before letting you go and shifting positions.

One arm holds him up, hovering above you, as the other reaches down for his belt buckle. The sound of his buckle coming undone sends heat straight to your core, and a second later you hear the sound of his zipper. You look down over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of him, a large hand wrapped around his fully erect cock as he pumps his fist a few times. When your eyes drift up to his, he’s already staring down at you, mouth parted and a hungry look on his face. You have to bite down, hard, on your bottom lip to suppress your moan.

This thing between you two hasn’t been going on for long, maybe a couple months at most. Ever since you first laid eyes on Rick, when he showed up at the camp in his sheriff's uniform over a year ago, you’ve been harboring a small crush. Even after finding out that same day that he was Lori’s supposedly dead husband, you couldn’t help yourself. And here you are now, trying to keep quiet, keep this thing a secret from the others. For now.

“Gonna stay quiet for me?” His head tilts to the side, eyes still locked on yours.

As soon as you nod your head, a silent promise, his hand releases his cock and finds its way to your shorts. He pulls them down along with your underwear, and the cool air hitting your already soaked cunt causes your hips to lift off the bed.

He leans back down, pressing his body against yours once again, his cock slipping between your legs and finding a spot between your wet folds as he positions himself. Both of his hands move to cover yours where they lay next to your head, intertwining his fingers with yours before slowly moving his hips back and forth, cock sliding effortlessly between your folds.

His lips are back at your ear as he slowly rocks back and forth, covering his length with your juices. “Three days was too long for me, too.”

Your stomach flutters at his words, walls clenching in anticipation. Rick rocks his hips, once, twice more through your folds before pulling all the way back, tip catching at your entrance.

“Rick,” you sigh. “Need you.”

“I know, baby.” He nuzzles his face into the side of your neck, breathing you in before slowly thrusting fully into you.

Your eyes squeeze shut as you bite your cheek, trying to hold back any noises. Once you're full he stills for a moment, letting you get used to the feeling of his thick cock stretching you before he moves again. As he slowly pulls out, you can hear how wet you are.

“Shit.” Rick mumbles into your hair, moving one of his hands to grip at your waist.

Gently, he tilts your hips up, holding them there as he thrust back in. A soft moan escapes you, and you quickly stop yourself, biting at your lower lip harder than before. Rick doesn't say anything, instead he starts to quicken his pace, letting out soft groans as he fucks into you.

You reach your free hand back and bury your fingers in the dark curls at the back of his head, tugging at them lightly. He lets out a low grunt, muffled by your hair where his face is buried in your neck.

Rick lifts his head up, staring down at you with a slack jaw as he continues his deep thrusts. Although it’s quite dark in your cell, you can make out the beads of sweat starting to form around his temples, causing a few stray hairs to stick to his forehead. The moonlight creates a white glow around him, he’s pretty. You’ve thought that from the start, but especially like this. Panting above you as he thrusts his cock deep inside you, stifling the moans that threaten to escape his pink lips.

He leans down, tilting his head so his lips are less than an inch away from yours. You tilt your head up, brushing your nose against his as his eyes fall shut and he leans in to press his lips to yours. Immediately his tongue is asking for entrance, pushing past your lips and intertwining with your own. He hums, his chest vibrating against you as your lips move in sync.

The knot in your stomach starts to tighten as he hits all the right spots inside you, his thrusts never faltering. He holds your hips at the perfect angle, hitting you at just the right spot with each thrust. You pull your lips away from his for a moment, catching your breath as his forehead presses against yours.

“‘M close.” You say between breaths.

“Let me feel you.” His blue eyes look back into yours, desire swimming within them.

His hand leaves your hip, hooking his fingers under your jaw as his thumb rests on your lower lip, pulling it down ever so slightly before kissing you. His other hand lets go of yours where he’s holding it against the mattress, lightly brushing over the back of your neck to move your hair out of the way. Both of his rough hands rest on your shoulders as he places kisses on the back of your neck.

The sensation of his lips against your damp skin sends heat straight to your core, causing you to clench around his length as you fight the urge to cry out. You tug at his hair, harder this time, trying to pull him closer if it’s even possible. He lets out a low whine, sinking his teeth lightly into the skin at your shoulder, leaving an open mouthed kiss over the small mark left there as he plunges into you one last time. Your body stiffens, eyes squeezing shut as a white hot feeling shoots through you, the coil in your core finally coming undone.

“Ri-“ before you can finish crying out his name, his hand quickly covers your mouth.

You whimper as he presses his hand lightly against your mouth, your own hand quickly moving to grip his forearm as your walls flutter around him, drenching his cock. Your eyes squeeze shut as he continues to rock his hips back and forth, holding you tightly against himself as your orgasm washes over you. A deep muffled sigh leaves you as your body starts to relax, and you feel his thrusts start to slow down before he quickly pulls out, lifting himself off of you and aiming at the edge of the cot.

Through heavy lids you watch him, trying to catch your breath as you roll onto your side. He’s sat on the edge of the bed now, buttoning his pants as your eyes trace over his silhouette. When he looks back down at you, a small smirk grows on his face. He pushes his damp hair out of his face with his large hand and shakes his head back and forth before leaning down, only inches from your face.

“You better hope they didn’t hear you.” He says in a sarcastic tone, hand resting on your cheek as he kisses your lips softly.

A smile forms on your lips as he pulls away, then he stands up to fix his pants. As he slowly heads towards the doorway, he fastens his buckle. You quickly shoot up, sitting up right in your bed now.

“Wait!” You whisper.

He quickly turns towards you, a concerned look on his face as he looks over your form.

“Stay.” It’s not a question, and he knows that.

He nods his head, pausing for a moment before walking back towards the single cot. You turn towards the wall as he climbs in behind you, the springs beneath the mattress pad squeaking as he does so. When his arm wraps around you, you scoot closer so his warm chest is pressed against your back. He nuzzles into the back of your neck, burying his nose into your hair as you let out a content sigh, eyes falling shut as you slowly drift off to sleep.

“Missed you so much.” He whispers, barely loud enough to hear before you both fall asleep.

thank you for reading <3 this is also posted on my ao3 - pale_m00nlight

also if anyone would like to follow my twd sideblog where i only reblog and talk about the walking dead and my love for rick grimes…. feel free to follow me @scary-divine :))) 🤍

[anundyingfidelity]

WHAT IF...? — Soldier Boy/Ben (1)

Summary: Ben, now as your husband, gives up Vought for good and retires along with you far away from the spotlight and the big cities once you're pregnant with your first child. He knows better than to make the same mistakes his father did.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader.

Word count: 800.

Warnings: some angst, hurt/comfort, pregnancy, AU where Soldier Boy was never with Crimson Countess, some OOC from Ben? idk he's soft in here.

Notes: this is an AU I had in mind, based on this one shot I did before, but now with Ben and the reader being the good parents Homelander always needed. Is not necessary to read that one but this takes place in 1984, before Soldier Boy goes to Nicaragua. I might update with short drabbles with random scenarios and domestic situations between them, but for now take this. Hope you like it!

GEN MASTERLIST! — DRABBLES MASTERLIST!

taglist is here!

PART 1

1984

“So, how is it now for America’s son to retire like this?” the journalist asked.

Ben gave him a charming smile, eyes bright like diamonds as the camera flashes took pictures everywhere at the press conference.

“Is what I always wanted,” he beamed.

The time for questions was over, but still you heard through the crowd all the inquiries and thirst for gossip from the journalists in the room. Soldier Boy stood up, posing for the last time with his green suit and shield hanging on his arm.

“Who’s the lucky lady?”

“Do you plan on having kids?”

“Will your kids be supes like you?”

“How many children you want, Soldier Boy?”

“How’d you meet her?”

“Soldier Boy, give us her name!”

You turned off the TV as the conference ended and took in sight of your surroundings. It was your home, finally. The place you’d share with your husband forever. And even though the conference was filmed a couple of weeks ago, Ben agreeing to retirement was still fresh in your mind. Ever since you talked about marriage and settling down a year ago, this was one of your conditions. Being a supe was dangerous, more so with Vought behind, and you wouldn’t expose your future legacy like that. You were lucky enough for Ben to understand that. He wouldn’t want to put the same faith he had with his father to his children.

In silence, you looked up for him, but he was nowhere to be seen. You checked the last room, which happened to be his dispatch; his personal space to show his achievements and his own story as America’s greatest hero. His back faced you, as he seemed to admire for the last time the suit hanging on the wall behind a glass that’d keep it as a trophy for a long time. Leaning against the doorframe, you wondered what was going in his head now that the announcement was public.

“I know you’re there,” he said, looking at you from the corner of his eye. “I can hear your heartbeat.”

You approached him, clinging into his strong arm and watching his handsome, stern face. “I’m so proud of you,” you mumbled softly. Ben turned his eyes to look at you, his face softened as he heard your words. “Thank you.”

His lips curved in a smile and he wrapped his arm on your waist, pulling you closer to his broad figure. “How’s the baby doing?”

“Considering I’m around five months now, I’d say he’s doing amazing,” your smile grew, feeling his warm hand on your baby bump.

“He?”

You shrugged. “You want a boy, right?”

“Yeah, but we haven’t checked that. We agreed to wait until birth…”

There was a hint of hope and confusion in his words.

“I haven’t done an ultrasound behind your back, if that’s concerning you,” you reassured him too quickly, putting yourself in front of him so he could look at you. Your hand rested on his cheek in a delicate manner. “I just have a hunch.”

Ben nodded, leaning into your touch. There was something he wanted to say out loud, to let you know, but he never had the courage to say it. The intrusive thoughts and the traumatic past he was carrying on his back used to torment him enough already. And you knew he was hiding something since you told him you were pregnant. You could see it in his eyes.

“What is it, Ben?”

He sighed at your question. He couldn’t lie to you, could he?

“I’m… scared,” he confessed. “I know I don’t want to be like my father. I don’t wanna disappoint our children.”

“You won’t, I promise. Please don’t torture yourself with things you are not, you’re not your father. And I know you’ll be a great dad,” you pulled him for a soft kiss, to which he responded, his hand cupping your cheek and then wandering to the nape of your neck. “They all will love you,” you whispered once the kiss was over.

Ben arched his brow in a playful manner. “They?”

“I’ll give you as many kids as I can, is that okay?”

He pulled you in for a hug, your head resting on his chest as he kissed your forehead lovingly. There was no other place he wanted to be but here, with you and the future baby growing up in your belly. Ben already pictured you together with a bunch of rugrats running all over the house, scolding them for being so reckless as they played silly games in a sunny afternoon by the pool. It was everything he yearned for. A normal life and becoming a loving father. His heart fluttered with joy, realizing this was the beginning of what he always really desired.

“It's perfect.”

>>> Next part here!!

Soldier Boy taglist:

@delaynew @k-slla @thesilmarillionblog @onlyangel-444 @mrsjenniferwinchester

@daisy-the-quake @jackles010378 @mostlymarvelgirl @deans-spinster-witch @drasticemotions

@stoneyggirl2 @sapnaploves @believeinthefireflies95