#and instead he got so fried he passed out

[luvfae]

CLEAN, PT 2

summary: after rehab, you reunite with thanos, sharing love, passion, and a fresh start together.

parings: thanos/choi su-bong x f!reader

warnings: mention of addiction, swearing, smut, oral (both receiving), fingering, handjob, unprotected sex (don’t be an idiot), p in v.

part 1

Three months ago, Thanos had dragged you—kicking, screaming, and cursing his name—into the same rehab facility where he had gotten clean.

Today, you were walking out.

With no family to pick you up (Thanos didn’t even know if you had any who cared), he was the one waiting.

Three excruciating months apart. He spent every day wondering if you hated him, if you were okay. But no calls from the facility meant you weren’t doing too bad. Meanwhile, you had spent those months drowning in withdrawal, fighting everyone who tried to help, refusing therapy—until eventually, you gave in. And for the first time in years, you felt normal. You started to remember the girl you used to be before the drugs took her away.

Then came the shame. The time lost. You should’ve graduated from art school by now, but instead, addiction had dictated your life. You regretted cutting off your family, pushing away friends until you had none left. You regretted how you had treated Thanos when all he ever did was try to save you.

And now, standing at the door, your hands trembled. Would anyone even be waiting for you?

Then—

“Y/N.”

You blinked.

Thanos.

You didn’t think. You just ran.

Throwing yourself at him, you hugged him so tightly it knocked the wind out of him. He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, voice shaking. You pulled back slightly to look at him. “Thank you so much.”

“Don’t thank me,” he murmured, brushing away your tears.

“I didn’t deserve your help,” you admitted, pulling away completely. He caught your hands, grounding you. “I was so awful to you. I’m so, so sorry.”

“I know what it’s like to be an addict,” he replied. “Everyone deserves help.”

Sniffing, you wiped your eyes as he led you to his car.

It was strange. You had known Thanos for nine months, lived with him, had sex with him, and yet… you didn’t really know him. Your brain had been so fried on drugs you barely retained any information.

And Thanos was the same. He had taken care of you, paid for your rehab, seen you at your lowest, and yet he didn’t know who you were.

Maybe it was time to change that.

The car ride was quiet at first. You were still getting used to the feeling of sobriety, of being aware. But as the city passed by through the windows, you glanced at Thanos.

“I used to paint,” you blurted out.

He looked at you. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Before everything… I loved painting. I was good at it, too. I was supposed to graduate art school a few years ago. Art was my dream.”

Silence settled for a moment before you continued. “I had a good life. A good family. My parents weren’t perfect, but they cared. I had a future. And then I got caught up with the wrong people.” You swallowed. “I let it ruin me.”

Thanos tightened his grip on the wheel. “It’s not too late.”

You let out a small, breathy laugh. “You sound like my therapist.”

“Well, your therapist is right,” he said, glancing at you. “You’re clean now. You can start again.”

You didn’t reply, just watched the city blur past.

“What about you?” you asked. “How did you get into rapping?”

Thanos smirked slightly. “It was either rap or go to jail.”

Your brows furrowed, but you stayed quiet, waiting for him to explain.

“I was a street kid,” he said. “Grew up bouncing between different family members. No real home. I got into some bad shit—gangs, drugs, fights. Ended up locked up a few times as a teenager. But music…” He sighed, tapping his fingers against the wheel. “Music was my way out. I started writing lyrics in juvie. Got out, kept at it, got lucky. Somehow, I made it big.”

You stared at him, realizing this was the first real conversation you’d ever had. “Do you love it?”

Thanos was quiet for a beat. “Yeah. I do.”

You smiled softly. “I’d like to hear your songs sometime. Really hear them. Not just in the background while I’m high out of my mind.”

His lips quirked up. “I’d like that too.”

And for the first time in a long time, you both felt like you were finally getting to know each other.

Thanos had loved you before—loved you in your worst moments, through the chaos, the anger, the addiction. But this version of you? The version that was bright-eyed, passionate, full of life again? He loved this version even more.

As he stole glances at you in the passenger seat, he really saw you for the first time. Your cheeks had filled out, your skin looked healthier, your eyes were wide and alert instead of hazy and half-lidded. And that smile—soft, genuine, real.

You were beautiful.

He pulled into the driveway, and you blinked, tilting your head.

“This isn’t the place I remember,” you said, glancing up at the massive mansion in front of you.

Thanos shrugged. “Bought a new house while you were gone.” He put the car in park and looked over at you. “Wanted to leave the bad memories behind and make good ones here instead.”

You let out a small laugh. “House? More like a mansion.”

Thanos smirked, pushing open his door. “Being rich and famous has its perks.”

You stepped out after him, following him inside. The space was opulent—high ceilings, sleek furniture, stunning artwork lining the walls. You turned in slow circles, taking it all in.

“I’ll donate them to charity,” Thanos said.

You glanced at him, confused. “What?”

“The paintings,” he clarified. “I’d rather have your art on my walls.”

Your cheeks burned, and you ducked your head, kicking at the floor. “I haven’t picked up a paintbrush in years,” you admitted. “Not sure I even can anymore.”

Thanos smiled. “I bet you can.”

Before you could argue, he took your hand and led you up the grand staircase, past a few closed doors, before stopping in front of one. He pushed it open, revealing a bedroom with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the entire city.

“This is your room,” he said simply.

You stepped inside, breath catching. It was beautiful. Warm-toned, cozy, welcoming. He walked over to the closet and pulled open the doors, revealing racks of neatly hung designer clothes, tags still on them.

“I even got you a new wardrobe,” he added.

You stared at the clothes, shaking your head. “Thanos, this is too much,” you whispered. “After everything I put you through… You shouldn’t have to take care of me anymore.”

He turned to you, gaze steady. “I want to.”

His words sat heavy between you. No hesitation, no doubt.

For the first time in a long time, you felt happy.

Real, genuine happiness. The kind that made your stomach flip and your heart race.

Or maybe it wasn’t just happiness. Maybe it was something deeper, something terrifying in its intensity.

You stared at him, eyes brimming with tears. “Thank you.” Your voice was barely a whisper, afraid that if you spoke any louder, the moment would shatter.

Thanos met your gaze, unwavering. “You’re welcome.”

You stepped forward hesitantly. “I don’t remember a lot from when I was using,” you admitted. “But I remember you.”

His brows lifted slightly. “What do you remember?”

You swallowed hard. “I remember you force-feeding me when I refused to eat. Flushing my stash down the toilet. I remember screaming in your face, kicking holes in your walls.” A tear slipped down your cheek, but you kept going. “I remember sleeping with strangers, with your friends—right after you told me you loved me.” Your voice cracked. “I was horrible to you. But that wasn’t the real me. I swear.”

Thanos nodded, watching you carefully. “I know,” he said simply. “But there were good times too, right? You remember those?”

You did.

You remembered the way he’d tuck you in at night, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. The way he’d run a bath for you after you got sick all over yourself, holding you steady as he cleaned you up. The way he kissed you like he was willing to set the world on fire for you. The way he touched you, loved you, even when you were too far gone to truly feel it.

“I remember how you made me feel,” you whispered, stepping closer.

His lips parted, his breath hitching as your fingers traced up his chest.

“I remember your hands,” you murmured, voice turning sultry. “Your mouth. Your tongue. Your fingers.” Your hand slid lower, brushing over the hardening bulge in his jeans. “Your cock inside me.”

Thanos inhaled sharply as you pushed your palms against his chest.

You had spent weeks thinking about this—about fucking him sober. About feeling everything for the first time.

“You made me feel so good,” you purred. “So fucking good, Thanos.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “My real name is Su-bong,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.

You smirked. “Well—Su-bong…” Your eyes darkened with intent. “Let me make it up to you. Let me show you how good I can be.”

That was all it took.

His lips crashed against yours, hungry and demanding, his hands gripping your waist as he backed you toward the bed. You gasped as the backs of your knees hit the mattress, and he wasted no time pushing you onto your back, peeling his shirt off in one swift motion and tossing it to the floor.

You sat up slightly, dragging your fingertips down his toned abdomen, your mouth practically watering at the sight of him.

He was already hard for you.

And this time, you were completely, devastatingly sober.

You dragged your nails down his chest, feeling the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch. His skin was warm, firm—real. For the first time, you were feeling him, not just through a hazy drug-fueled blur, but with a clarity that sent a shiver down your spine.

Thanos—Su-bong—looked down at you with dark, hooded eyes, his lips parted slightly as he took you in. “You’re teasing me,” he murmured, voice thick with desire.

You smirked, trailing your fingers lower, letting them ghost over the waistband of his jeans. “Maybe,” you mused. “I owe you, don’t I?”

His hands slid up your sides, rough palms skimming the soft fabric of the shirt he had given you months ago—the same one you had walked out of rehab in. Slowly, he peeled it up and over your head, letting it drop to the floor.

His gaze roamed over you, drinking in every inch of exposed skin, every little mark and scar. You weren’t the frail, hollow version of yourself anymore. You were whole.

“You’re beautiful,” he muttered, his fingers trailing over your ribs, then up to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples. You let out a soft gasp, arching into his touch.

His mouth found your throat, lips pressing firm, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your neck. He sucked lightly at your pulse, dragging his teeth over the sensitive skin, making you shudder.

“Su-bong,” you breathed, threading your fingers through his hair.

He groaned at the way you said his name, his hands sliding down your body, squeezing at your waist, your hips, like he was memorizing the shape of you.

You tugged at the waistband of his jeans, undoing the button and pulling the zipper down, your fingers slipping inside to brush against the hard length beneath his boxers. He let out a sharp exhale, hips jerking forward slightly at your touch.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his forehead dropping against yours. “You really want this?”

You wrapped your fingers around him, squeezing just enough to make him curse under his breath. “More than anything,” you whispered.

His lips crashed against yours again, hungrier this time, his hands gripping your thighs as he pushed you back onto the bed, positioning himself between your legs. You gasped as he kissed his way down your body, his mouth hot and insistent against your skin.

When he reached the waistband of your jeans, he hooked his fingers into them, glancing up at you for permission.

You lifted your hips in response, breath hitching as he dragged them down, taking your panties with them, exposing you completely to him.

His eyes darkened, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip. “Fuck, baby,” he muttered, his voice thick with lust.

Then, without hesitation, he leaned down and devoured you.

His tongue flicked against your clit, slow and teasing, sending a jolt of pleasure through your core. Your fingers twisted into his hair, hips jerking instinctively, but he pinned you down with a firm grip on your thighs.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groaned against you, his breath hot, his voice thick with hunger. “Missed this pussy so much.”

A whimper slipped from your lips as he flattened his tongue and licked a long, slow stripe up your slit before sucking your clit into his mouth. Your back arched, thighs trembling, but just as the pleasure built, just as you felt yourself spiraling, you pushed at his shoulders.

Thanos pulled back, his mouth glistening, brows furrowing in confusion. “What?”

You took a shaky breath, trying to clear the haze of pleasure from your mind. “This is about you, not me,” you murmured, pushing yourself up on your elbows. “I’m paying you back.”

A slow, wicked grin spread across his face. “If it’s about me, then I should get to do what I want,” he countered, voice low, dangerous. “And what I want to do is fucking taste you.”

“Jesus Christ,” you breathed, heat surging through your body.

Before you could protest further, he dove back in, his tongue circling your clit while two fingers slid inside you, curling just right. A strangled moan tore from your throat, your hips bucking as he worked you open, relentless and precise.

It didn’t take long—he knew exactly how to unravel you, exactly how to have you gripping his hair and gasping his name. Your orgasm hit fast and hard, your body shaking as he held you down, licking you through every wave until you were panting, overstimulated.

Only then did he pull away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, looking so fucking smug.

“Fuck,” you muttered, still catching your breath. “I forgot how good you were at that. Feels even better sober.”

His smirk widened. “Unforgettable, baby.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. Pushing him onto his back, you straddled his hips, hands sliding up his chest, fingers teasing over his nipples before raking down his abs.

“My turn,” you whispered.

You kissed down his body, taking your time, nipping at his collarbones, sucking marks into his skin just to watch him tense beneath you. When you reached the waistband of his jeans, you tugged them down, freeing his cock, your mouth practically watering at the sight of him—thick, hard, already leaking.

You wrapped your fingers around him, stroking slow, teasing. His breath hitched, his head tipping back against the pillows.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his fingers curling into the sheets. “You gonna take care of me, baby?”

You leaned down, pressing a kiss to his tip, then dragged your tongue along his length, watching the way his stomach tensed beneath you.

“Of course,” you murmured, voice dripping with promise.

And then you took him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as he let out a deep, guttural moan, his hands flying to your hair.

Your tongue worked him slowly, dragging along every inch of his length, teasing just to hear him groan. You hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper, letting him hit the back of your throat, moaning around him just to feel the way he twitched in your mouth.

“Shit, baby,” Thanos growled, his fingers tightening in your hair. “Missed your mouth—so perfect, so fucking good for me.”

The praise only made you more eager. You bobbed your head, stroking the rest of him with your hand, slick and messy, making sure to keep your eyes on him. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his jaw clenched, his muscles tense as he fought to keep control.

But you didn’t want him to be in control.

You pulled off him with a lewd pop, kissing up his abs as you moved to straddle his waist. His cock was hard, flushed, throbbing against your soaked folds as you rubbed against him, teasing both of you.

“Hey,” he hissed, gripping your hips. “Quit teasing.”

You smirked, leaning down to kiss him, slow and deep, your fingers threading into his hair. “You always take care of me,” you whispered against his lips. “Let me take care of you now.”

Without breaking eye contact, you reached down, guiding him to your entrance before sinking down onto him in one slow, delicious slide. Both of you gasped at the sensation, your walls stretching around him, molding to him perfectly like you were made for this.

“Jesus,” Thanos groaned, his head tipping back, fingers digging into your hips as he tried not to lose himself completely.

“You feel so good,” you breathed, placing your hands on his chest, rolling your hips slowly, savoring the way he filled you so perfectly. “So fucking good, Su-bong.”

His eyes snapped open at the sound of his real name on your lips, dark and wild with lust. He sat up suddenly, wrapping an arm around your waist, his mouth latching onto your neck, sucking bruises into your skin as you continued moving, grinding against him, taking him deeper.

You moaned, clinging to his shoulders, kissing him desperately, your tongues tangling, the pleasure building between you like a fire. “Thank you,” you whispered against his lips, rocking faster, harder. “Thank you for saving me. For never giving up on me.”

A low growl rumbled in his chest as he flipped you onto your back, keeping you pinned beneath him, his hips snapping against yours, hitting deeper, harder.

“You’re mine,” he muttered between kisses, his voice rough, possessive. “Always fucking mine.”

“Yours,” you gasped, nails raking down his back, legs wrapping around him to pull him even closer. “Only yours.”

His pace turned desperate, his thrusts brutal yet somehow still so full of love, his forehead pressing against yours, his hand slipping between you to rub your clit, determined to drag you over the edge with him.

And when you came—hard, clenching around him, gasping his name like a prayer—he followed right after, burying himself deep, groaning into your mouth as he filled you, his entire body shuddering against yours.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, tangled together in the aftermath, your breathing heavy, your hearts racing in sync.

Then Thanos kissed you again, softer this time, lingering. “I still love you,” he murmured against your lips. “I always have.”

You smiled, brushing your fingers through his damp hair. “I think I love you too.”

And when he pulled you into his arms, holding you close like he never wanted to let go, you knew—you meant it.

You lay there for a while, tangled up in each other, your skin slick with sweat, his breath warm against your neck. The weight of him felt comforting, grounding, like you never wanted him to move.

But eventually, you stirred, pressing a soft kiss to his temple before slipping out of his arms.

“Where are you going?” Thanos mumbled, his voice thick with exhaustion.

You giggled, running a hand through his messy hair. “Relax, I’m just grabbing a towel.”

You padded to the bathroom, your legs still wobbly, but you didn’t care. You cleaned yourself up before wetting a towel, you returned to the bed, settling beside him as you began to clean him up, running the cloth over his stomach, down between his legs, gentle and careful.

Thanos watched you, his expression soft, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your thigh. “You don’t have to do that,” he murmured.

“I want to,” you replied, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Let me take care of you for once.”

He huffed out a small laugh, letting you do as you pleased, though his hands never stopped touching you—gliding over your arm, your waist, like he needed the reassurance that you were still here.

When you were done, you tossed the towel aside, crawling back into his embrace, peppering kisses along his jaw, his cheek, the corner of his mouth.

Thanos smirked. “You’re in a good mood.”

“I think you fucked the happiness into me,” you teased, making him chuckle before he suddenly rolled you onto your back, hovering over you, nuzzling into your neck.

You giggled, your hands slipping into his hair, tugging him up so you could kiss him properly. Slow, lazy, sweet.

After a while, you pulled back just enough to look at him, brushing his damp hair from his face. “Thank you for the room,” you said softly. “But… I think I’d rather share a bed with you, if that’s okay?”

He pressed a lingering kiss to your lips, his thumb stroking your cheek. “That’s more than okay,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You smiled, burying your face in his chest, and for the first time in years, you felt home.

You still had a long road ahead—staying clean, rebuilding bridges with your family, reenrolling in art school. But those were worries for another day.

For now, you stayed wrapped in Thanos’ arms, making up for lost time, showering him with the love you should have given him all along.

[tinytrashkid]

badger is currently asleep from weed downstairs. i wonder how many more cuts i can get away with tonight...

[reignpage]

Lying To Himself

Content: in which toji is left alone and how he deals with your temporary absence

You have to leave for two weeks, something about a mission in another city. Your boyfriend, Toji, swears it'll be okay, even insists that time will pass by in a blink of an eye. 

“‘m not a fucking child, ma. I’ll be fine. Just take care, yeah?”

And so, you peck him on his lips and wave goodbye before you get in the car. Then you’re disappearing in the distance. Toji shrugs, going back in feeling pretty excited to have the house to himself for two weeks — this has never happened before. As he sits on the couch, bottle of beer in one hand and tv remote on the other, he thinks about all the things he can do now.

The toilet seat can stay up, the bins will be full for longer, same goes for the dirty dishes in the sink, and he can watch whatever he wants; no more of those sappy romcoms with predictable plots and cheesy lines. 

“’s gonna be fun,” he mutters, a growing grin on his face. 

A couple days pass in relative silence, he stays out late, sleeps till noon and eats all the junk you’ve banned from the house. Toji cooks all the steak he wants and leaves the beer bottles to collect dust on the coffee table. And he accepts every invitation from his buddies to go out for drinks, watch basketball at the bar, and plays a couple games too.

He stays up all night, on the evenings he's not getting stupid drunk, playing videogames -- the violent ones you cringe at. During the day, he walks around the place in just his boxers, sometimes not even that, and it's liberating. All a man needs is to be free to be balls naked in their own kitchen.

"You're not missing her at all?" Shiu asks, smoke blowing in his face as they stand in the back alley, leaning against the wall of the bar.

Toji snorts. "What am I? Five years old? I can last a couple weeks without being sappy."

His friend gives him a look, half amused, half disbelieving and a hundred percent smug. None of them miss the death grip he has on his phone, the way his knee is bouncing, and how he isn't even looking at the hot chicks that sway their asses as they walk by.

It’s been great. Really fucking great. 

You haven’t been texting much. Sure, you check in here and there, letting him know you’re alright, you’re safe, and making sure he’s watered your plants. However, there are rarely any opportunities for phone calls longer than five minutes, no FaceTime either, and sometimes he goes to sleep without a ‘goodnight’ from you. 

It’s fine. 

At least, he can sleep at whatever time he wants without you whining about needing cuddles.

More days pass just like that. 

And now he’s rarely leaving the house, finding his drunk friends boring and obnoxiously loud. It’s like he's suddenly realised they’re kinda fucking stupid. He starts to get sick of all the steak and fried chicken and takeaway, and instead he’ll text you for the recipe of your lasagne or that smoothie you make him in the mornings that’s always greener than the last. 

His feet tap on the floor when you don’t reply straight away. And when his phone lights up, he practically dives for it and grips it tight in his palm, screen threatening to crack when it’s not from you. 

“God fucking dammit, Shiu. Don’t fucking talk to me if it’s not important.”

The movies he’s been dying to watch are pretty shit. There’s no depth, no proper pacing, and the dialogue’s cheesy as fuck. Usually, you’d throw popcorn at the screen and complain about all those things, but he finds that he has to mutter them to himself for white noise. Even smirks when he thinks he got it exactly right, guessing what you’d say as if you’re yapping right in his ear. 

“She’d totally find that shit stupid. And that blood looks fake as fuck. What was the fucking budget for this shit?”

Most of the phone calls on his history log are from him, more reds than greens. What the fuck have they got you doing over there anyways? 

When you do reply to his ‘g’night’ and ‘hey, sleep well?’, he’ll have a go at you for taking so damn long. It’s just fucking ridiculous that you’re clearly sleeping well when he has to hit the gym and tire himself out to even get an hour of shut eye nowadays. Sometimes, he can’t even get any and he just paces the length of the living room waiting for a notification from you to pop up. 

“Fucking come on! Y'r phone better be dead or something.”

Toji hates having dinner on the table; the seat opposite him is empty, the placemat bare and he feels a freaky fucking soreness in his chest. When that happens, he never finishes his dinner. Must be a symptom of early heart disease. Gotta talk to the doctors about that. 

Instead, he eats on the sofa or in his car.

Eventually, you find time to speak to him for an hour, recounting all the crazy things you’ve seen and had to do. He doesn’t interrupt, he just grunts here and there, not even really listening but he urges you to keep talking when there’s a pause, like you’re unsure if you’re talking too much. And when you try to turn the conversation on him, asking about his day, he gives one word answers and then throws you another question. 

“Yeah?” He grunts. “What else? Speak up, ma. Wanna hear ya. D’ya go to that shop? Yeah? Y’ buy anything? Send me a picture.”

He gets two nights of decent sleep after that.

But then…

The guys at work know better than to open their fat mouths around him when he turns up with an extra wrinkle and a ticking in his jaw. Toji is somehow even more sadistic and violent and eager for blood. Even finally accepts their invitation to go out for drinks and drowns himself in the extra strong shit. Assuming he just woke up on the wrong side of the bed, they don’t question his sour mood. 

But what they don’t know is that you texted, just a day before you’re set to come back, to let him know you’re staying another week. 

Fucking texted. 

Didn’t even get to hear it from your own voice. 

He buries himself in more work and stays at the gym for even longer, pushing his body so far, his mind quiets down and he don’t gotta think about the fact that he’s started sleeping on your side of the bed, that the house is losing your scent, and that divot on the couch where you always sat has flattened out. 

Everyone knows he’s losing his mind. They can tell by the dark circles under his eyes and the fact that he’s started snapping at women who are either flirting or just doing their jobs. And sometimes they even have to block his view of couples practising PDA. That’s the closest to hell they ever want to get around Toji. Suddenly, everyone’s hoping you throw the guy a bone and send a nude or something. Literally anything to rein him back in.

The day comes, though, when you’re finally returning home. 

“Y’ sure? Not gonna flake again? Be fucking sure, ma. Alright, get back safe.”

Toji throws all the rubbish out, washes the dishes and dries them, double checks that the toilet seat is down, and he’s followed your recipe for beef stew to the letter — it’s cooking in the oven, and it looks fucking great. Even exfoliated in the shower like you’ve been asking him to, almost took off an entire layer of skin. He doesn’t want to admit he feels pretty fucking fresh. 

The door handle rattles. 

He sits up. And then stands. Walks over to the front door, arms crossing and then uncrossing. 

You’re here. 

“Hey, Toji—“

Your greeting is smothered in his chest as he threatens to suffocate you with the hardest bear hug in the whole world. And though he’d never hurt you, if you weren’t a sorcerer, you’d have been in big trouble. 

“Y’ hungry? Or y’ wanna shower first?”

His hands are all over you, lifting your chin to search your face for any scratches, even squishes your cheeks to be sure, and he’s patting you down for bruises or just to make sure all your limbs are intact. There’s a frown on his lips and it’s pretty darn cute. 

“Aw, Toji, baby. Did you miss me?”

“No.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re not a child, blah blah blah.”

Walking past him to take your shoes off, hang your coat and roll your suitcase to the side, you’re inhaling the air and moaning about the delicious food in the oven. Oh, God. You’ve been craving homemade food for so long now. You might actually die if you don’t eat. 

“Come here.” Your eyes dart to him, still standing by the doorway, fists clenching and unclenching. Toji looks furious. You look closer. No, he looks…embarrassed? “Said come here, ma.”

“Why?” You ask, head titling in curiosity and slight suspicion. 

He grunts. “What? I gotta spell it out for ya?”

Laughing, you tap your foot on the ground and retort back, “Yeah, you might because you need to have a good reason for keeping me from both a good shower and a warm meal.”

Toji rolls his eyes and stalks over to you, yanking you back to his chest so he can wrap his arms around you and keep you still. It’s much softer than before, but you feel the same sense of passion, something that verges on desperation.

It’s almost like…

No. 

It can’t be. 

Oh, but when you feel his face bury itself in your neck and you hear that long inhale, followed by a deep groan vibrating through his chest, you’re absolutely sure. 

Toji missed you. 

An overwhelming feeling of love fills you, so does a sense of victory, and you just hug him back, inhaling deeply too. He smells like home, like reluctant cuddles, pats on the ass, and early morning sex. You thought you’d have the most trouble in the two weeks, which turned into three, but as it turns out, he didn’t fare much better. 

Though he’d never admit it with his own mouth, his body betrays him.

Toji doesn’t let you get very far without a hand on you somehow, whether that’s a hand on your thigh as you eat dinner side by side, instead of across from each other, or you sitting on his lap as you watch the movie you want to watch. He even waits on the toilet lid as you shower, though that only lasts a couple minutes before he’s stripping and joining you. 

“Y’r not washing y’r hair right,” he tuts. 

Getting into bed is even worse because he’s practically lying on top of you the whole night, still sniffing your neck, and with his hands exploring your body. Not really in a sexual way, which is odd for him, but as if he just wants to feel you. He wants to feel your warmth, your softness, and reassure himself you’re home. 

Soon, he’s out cold and you mumble a goodnight against his forehead.

He wakes up feeling completely refreshed, like a newborn, stretching and grinning about getting ready with the day, and frowns when you’re still fast asleep. Part of him wants to make sure you’re getting your rest, but that part doesn’t win for very long and the much bigger part is shaking you awake.

“Come on, ma. Fucking bored here. Wake up, yeah? Let’s get some breakfast. Wanna talk to ya.” 

And when you do wake up, grumbling at how loud he’s being, he ignores the glares you’re giving and the swatting of his hands. Toji gives you a rare, wide, toothy smile and he says, 

“There’s my gorgeous girl. Good morning, baby.”

Yeah, this man totally missed you. 

[4-the-l0ve-0f-art]

Reverse isekai... Caleb... Cat...

Caleb loved you more than anything in this world. 

Or at least, that's what you would've liked to imagine if he was real. But he isn't. And you're not in a pixelated little world called Linkon City and none of your hopes and dreams about having a happily ever after with your military husband and childhood best friend were coming true. 

You stared at the fanfic left open on the phone screen, wishing to see your husband in your dreams to ease the ache of loving someone you could never have while in your loneliest moments. 

If only he could be real. If only he could become real from Astra knows what power and fall in love all over again. With you this time instead of the MC who seemed to resemble anything but you. If only. Too much to ask for, yes, you know. 

No, he wasn't real, and no, he wasn't there to fall in love with you as you did with him. And you had your own life to live and work to do and tough times to get through on your own tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after that. 

So, leaving you no other choice, you drifted off to sleep as the delusion shattering ache in your heart seeped in.

-

It was raining. You opened up your umbrella next to the entrance of your workplace, greeting your coworkers goodbye. You were tired. Your brain was fried from working since morning and you felt like the walking dead. 

The thoughts of cooking something up for dinner made you feel like flopping down on the sidewalk you were walking on and passing out. You had the free will to do that, of course, but the rain pitter pattering along with your dragged steps only reminded you of all the cleaning you would have to do after practicing your so-called free will. 

The street lights turned on and you continued onward, just a block away from your home. 

As you walked by an alleyway, your heart almost jumped out of your chest at the sound of metal clashing onto the ground. You froze, holding your breath as you turned around. 

You waited. 

One beat. Two beats. 

Nothing. 

And then, there it was again, the sound of something thuding around. 

Without thinking, you made your way towards the source of the sound, your heart bearing in your ears. A dumpster came into view. 

Something, or someone, seemed to be struggling inside. You called out. 

“Hello..? Is anyone in there..?” Your voice trembled. 

No reply.

You slowly got close to the dumpster and opened the cover with shaking hands. 

Widened blue-pink eyes with a pair of black ears and tail stared up at you through the piles of garbage. 

“What the fuck?”

-

The cat jumped out of your hold as soon as you entered your home, shaking off water from its fur and scampering away from you as fast as it could while you were struggling to put down the wet umbrella. 

“Okay, rude? I bring you home with me to avoid the guilty conscience that would follow tomorrow if I found you dead from the cold somewhere and you pay me off by drenching my floorboards!”

You let out a frustrated sigh. 

He silently watched you from a corner of the room as you made your way to the kitchen island to wash off your hands. 

“Make yourself at home, I guess..” You mumbled, more to yourself than to him. 

I have a cat in my apartment. What now? 

-

First and foremost, it was bathtime. You were NOT about to let a stinky ass wet fur ball run around your home. 

You tried to pick him up again but he bolted around the living room, paw pads making skittering noises in the process.

After about 10 minutes of running around, you gave up, standing defeated. You called out to him as a last resort. 

“I just want to give you a bath. Please.”

“Mreow!” He protested, sitting on top of the kitchen island. 

“Fine. Whatever. Live with the stink all you want. I'm tired and you're taking up my gaming time.” You rolled your eyes. 

Maybe leaving him alone for a while will ease him a little.. You hoped. 

And so, you turned around and sat down on the couch with the TV remote in hand, ready to open YouTube and rewatch the same goddamn trailer for the 100th time. 

[Love and Deepspace | Caleb's Trailer]

-

He didn't know how he ended up here. One moment he was feeling immense, needle pricking pain across his entire body, the next he was in a dumpster. With paws instead of hands. And the world seemed thrice as large and intimidating. 

Well, At least I have shelter from the rain for now.. Though I feel like a wet rat. 

He watched the girl settle down on the couch. 

I wonder how long I can stay here. I need to figure things out..

Then, he heard something that caught his eye. 

“What, you don't recognize me?”

He stared at the video playing on the TV screen. 

“Did you honestly think I would always be the kind hearted boy from your childhood?”

His ears perked up, all pointy, and his eyes widened. 

That's me. 

He watched as the figure on the screen bit an apple as lightning flashed in the background. 

That. Is. Me. On the TV. 

A/N: Interest check? Very self indulgent... Kinda, sorta, really wanna turn this into a one-shot fic maybe... Haha.. Ha.. But I'll have to play through all the content released in the past few months.. 😭

Wrote this half asleep someone bonk me to sleep please

[euphoricimagination]

𝓗𝓪𝓲𝓴𝔂𝓾𝓾 𝓫𝓸𝔂𝓼 𝓶𝓮𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪 𝓹𝓲𝓬𝓴-𝓶𝓮 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵 - Part 2

Feat. Aoba Johsai & Fukurodani

Premise: You had to do something else for a week and a half, leaving the boys alone for that period. Although they told the coaches that they could survive without you, the coaches ask a girl to help them out instead. They weren’t particularly excited, which got worse the more they spent time with her

Aoba Johsai

Since Seijoh’s volleyball club was very popular among the students, the coach had no problems in looking for someone to be there while you weren’t

In fact, the coach found two, mostly because there were a lot of duties during that week

Unnecessary in the eyes of the team, they were fine before you, they don’t need two of them now

Not even a day passed when the team were dreading this decision; not only they were Oikawa fans to begin with, but they were also annoying

Even Oikawa couldn’t find joy in this situation

The normally heartthrob of the team, the one that adores receiving attention, couldn’t stand them, missing your *playful* punches and scoldings

You luckily were able to hang out with them after their Sunday practice, when it had become a tradition to go to the nearest shopping mall to eat a meal as a team

So to surprise them, you went there without them, planning to raid their table

When you saw them walking into the food court you couldn’t help but giggle, one girl was holding the arm of a very disgusted Oikawa, while the other was clearly acting like a dude alongside an annoyed Iwaizumi, everyone else ignoring them

You started looking at the menus, deciding what to eat, ordering a burger and some fries

“Wow, you’re eating…that? Someone is not thinking about hot girls summer” you hear from your left, one of the girls looking at you as if you were committing a sin

“yeah I don’t care”

“That’s all you’re getting? I could not eat only that, I’m ordering like 6 burgers” another voice comes from your other side, the other girl was there too

“…ok” you say, starting to understand why the team was so fed up with them. The team looks mean, but they were never unnecessary rude

“can I have a salad? I wish I could eat..that, but I’m too worried about how I look, you know” the girl in your left says

“I just got done playing volleyball with the team, so I need like…6.000.000 calories, imagine only eating a salad” the other says, making you sigh

“I love your make up, by the way! It’s so…natural, I wish I had the confidence to not care about how I look on public, good for you!” the girl says with a sarcastic tone

“imagine even wearing make up every day and trying that hard, like I just roll out of bed an-”

“I don’t care about any of your thoughts, so shut up please” you say annoyed, you didn’t know if you were annoyed, uncomfortable or straight up angry, but before you could add anything else an arm wraps your shoulder

“Yn-chaan!” Oikawa squishes you

“Yn-san, you’re here!” Kindaichi exclaims, relief appearing on his face. Kunimi gets slightly closer to you, a move that means that he wants some type of affection, so you pat his head

“Y-you know her?” the princess type of girl asks, eyes wide

“She is our dear manager” Matsukawa adds, Hanamaki nodding with a smirk that only grew bigger when the girl shrieks

“H-her?! But she looks so weak! And I bet she doesn’t know shit about sports! Like.. she’s a girl!” the ‘tomboy’ girl says now

“don’t get too comfortable now, you were just a substitute for her, not the other way around. She is the best manager we could ever ask for” Oikawa says mockingly, hugging you tighter

“b-b-but…”

“you can leave now, we have our manager back, we don’t need you two here anymore” Iwaizumi ends the conversation, taking your tray with food as they all take you to the table

“I still have a few days that I can’t be there” you tell them once you were sitting

“we’ll manage” Iwaizumi says

“What Yn-chaan? Are you sure you aren’t missing this handsome face of mi-ouch!” Oikawa tries to say, but you punch him making the team laugh

You were at peace again

Fukurodani

Despite having another managers in their rooster, the coach decided to ask the manager of other team to help them out

After all the team is big, so another hand wouldn’t be bad

The team was nice, so they did try their best to make her feel welcome eve if it was for a week and a half

But she was making things hard

Washio tried to be a gentleman, but he ended up not interacting much with her

Konoha, in the other hand, was sarcastic, but she was either too dense or too delusional to realize

Akaashi tried to be understanding, but even he was starting to get tired of it

And Bokuto, even with his loud and extroverted personality, ended up just trying to avoid her

When you came back, you had the *amazing* opportunity to meet her first hand, right after entering the gym

What the guys have told you wasn’t particularly encouraging, yet you still wanted to give her a fair shot

“Why are you looking at me? It’s just a knee brace, you never seen something like this?” she tells you, before you could even say hi

“well, hi, nice to meet you too”

“So…you are the manager? The one that I’m replacing? Well, of course you don’t know what this is, since you don’t play any sports”

“well, before I kinda did some cheerleading, but it wasn't for me so I joined this idiots and…”

“exactly! Cheerleading isn’t a sport! Gosh, how are you even the manager of this team”

“Yn!!” Bokuto enters the gym, hugging you tightly as he spins around. Akaashi was behind, who gives you a smile

“If you were wondering! I got injured by playing football…and then basketball and then volleyball with the boys, remember that Bokuto?!”

“eh..nope” bokuto answers confused

“Well me neither”

“anyways! I’m back on the team, so thank you for…well, being here. I’ll take care of it from here on out…unless the guys want you to stay..?” you say

“NO!” a collective answer came in, way too quickly. You resisted a laugh

“well, that settles it, good luck with your knee brace” you push her out softly, a grunt coming from her

“Thank god you’re back Yn-chan” Akaashi tells you, the team patting your head lovingly

“we should celebrate! After practice lets go to eat!” Bokuto adds

“okay! Bokuto is paying!” Konoha says, going to the court to start practicing

You see bokuto whine as he goes too, everyone joining while making fun of the owl boy.

[muniimyg]

𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!yoongi (19) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist closed

note: the last. freaking. written. oh my god,, where did the time go !!! i honestly could've finished this fic in dec but got so busy w family stuff,, but i'm glad i'm wrapping it up now.. slower and more content <3 so happy to have seen all the love and support this bbydaddy ,, and can not wait to share more of the series with u !!! love u,, see u at the end :)

warnings: dirty talk, ass slapping, titty play, doggy,, missionarykissing, creampie and so much vibes !!!

//

“hi mommy!”

you roll your eyes and almost shut the door in his face.

“go away, jungkook.”

he laughs, loud and shameless. then, without warning, jungkook wedges his body between the door and the frame, stopping you from fully shutting the door. his arms are full of takeout bags, the smell of fried chicken and tteokbokki filling the entryway immediately. the aroma should make you hungry, but instead, it twists your stomach. 

you're too tired to want anything.

“you look radiant,” jungkook teases, setting the bags down on the nearest counter. he can’t help but notice how pale you are and how slumpy your posture is. though he teases, he still means it as he says; “glowing. motherly. beautiful.”

you give him a flat look. 

“i will hurt you.”

“sure you will,” jungkook says, grinning like you’ve just handed him the greatest compliment in the world. “why would you? actually, how can you when you have that giant thing in front—”

the sound of more footsteps behind him makes your heart sink.

you lean to the side, peeking past his broad shoulders, and your suspicion is confirmed—hyemi isn’t alone. the rest of the friend group piles in behind her, all laughter and overlapping voices. and then it hits you. 

it’s just like last time. 

the time they all found out you were pregnant—and you can’t figure out what to feel first. 

relief? excitement? annoyance? 

“surprise!” jin exclaims, throwing his arms out dramatically. “we’re here to cheer you up!”

you blink at him, then at everyone else, too stunned to speak.

“what’s that face?” hyemi asks, stepping inside with a bag of desserts in hand. she glances over her shoulder at the crowd behind her. “awh, ___… don’t look so excited, or they’ll think you’re happy to see them.”

“i’m not.”

“we know.” namjoon smiles as he ducks into the hallway, carrying what looks like half a pharmacy’s worth of supplies.

“why are there so many of you?” 

you feel yourself beginning to get lightheaded. 

“because we love you,” hobi says simply, dropping his shoes at the door before making a beeline for the kitchen. “now sit down before you pass out. you look exhausted.”

there it is. 

health care friends at their finest. 

you love your friends. you love your friends. they care for you. you love them. you love them. you love them. you love them—

hyemi hums in agreement, giving you a once-over. 

“shit, ___. you’re grumpier than usual. reminds me of when you’re on your period.”

the jab earns her a collective groan from everyone else.

“don’t start,” hobi says, holding a hand up like he’s warding off bad energy.

“what? it’s true!” hyemi grins, clearly unbothered by their reactions. “___’s been pregnant for 9 months and suddenly you all forget what she’s really like when she’s over it.”

you’re too tired to even retort. 

you are really over it.

“i wasn’t expecting all of you, that’s all. feels a little invasive especially when i’m about to birth an entire being.” you say, attempting to defend yourself.

“and we support you,” taehyung chimes in, entering with a huge smile on his face. “isn’t this the best-case scenario? yoongi wouldn’t let us bring any drugs but if we stress you out enough—we can help deliver the baby!”

the voices fade into the background as you sink onto the couch, the ache in your lower back easing slightly with the change in position. your head tilts back, eyes fluttering shut as you exhale slowly.

the sound of the front door opening again makes you lift your head, though, and when you see who it is, your pout returns.

yoongi steps inside, looking a little sheepish, and offers you a soft smile. 

“hey.”

“hey,” you mumble back, watching as he crosses the room toward you.

he leans down, kissing your forehead before his lips find yours, gentle and familiar. the kiss lingers, quieting the irritation buzzing under your skin. 

at this point of your relationship, it feels like every kiss after the other was a million years ago. like you need to be kissed by him every 5 minutes just so you can function. it’s a high you never expected to get addicted to, but who cares? 

he’s all yours. 

“i’m sorry. i really thought this would cheer you up. hyemi suggested it—and… i-i didn’t think they’d annoy you this fast—”

“i wasn’t flirting with jungkook,” you grumble against his mouth, the words spilling out before you can stop them. your sudden change of subject has yoongi pulling back. 

a smile tugs in, soft but apologetic. he brushes a thumb over your cheek, leaning in close again. “i know,” he murmurs. “i’m sorry for overreacting.”

just like that, the fight is over. 

yoongi then slips an arm around your waist, helping you to your feet with ease. his hand lingers on the small of your back as he leads you back toward the group, his presence steadying you as the noise and laughter fill the space once more.

you lean into yoongi instinctively as he helps you back into the living room, his hand firm and steady on your waist. you swear he moves slower than necessary like he’s afraid you might topple over if he so much as lets go for a second.

“yoongi, i’m pregnant. i’m not glass,” you hiss, though you don’t pull away.

“same difference.”

you sit back on the couch with a little huff, and yoongi crouches beside you, carefully adjusting the blanket draped over your legs like he’s tucking you in for the night. his fingers brush your knee through the fabric, and the touch sends a ripple of warmth through your chest.

“anything you need?” he asks softly, voice low enough that only you can hear.

“for them to leave.”

he chuckles under his breath, a low sound that makes your pout falter. 

“i’ll take care of them later. they want to be here for you right now. is that okay?” 

“it’s okay.”

“good—”

“don’t go anywhere,” you stop him for getting up. “stay besid me. i’m scared of taehyung right now. he wants to deliver my baby—”

yoongi snorts. 

“okay, okay.” he promises, thumb brushing absentmindedly over your knee before he stands. but he doesn’t go far. instead, he perches on the arm of the couch, staying close enough that his hand finds its way to the back of your neck, his fingers curling there with a familiar ease.

“what’s this?” jin’s voice cuts through the moment, his tone pitched just enough to be obnoxious.

you glance up, startled, and catch him pointing at your hand. more specifically, the small, delicate ring glinting on your finger.

“that’s been there,” hyemi says, leaning back against the armchair with her arms crossed. she tries to act coy with it, but she’s only really seen the ring on your finger once. “you’re just noticing now?”

“wait… that’s new,” jungkook interjects, squinting. “like... really new.”

a ripple of realization passes through the group, and their gazes flick between you and yoongi with varying degrees of curiosity and amusement.

“it’s a promise ring.”

“sure,” namjoon says, dragging the word out as he adjusts his glasses. his lips twitch, failing to hide a grin. “are you two even together?”

you and yoongi pause. 

“promise ring this, promise ring that… everything but boyfriend and girlfriend. baby and all. holy shit, do you even love the lord?” jimin teases. 

“promise ring? what are you guys? 16?” jin adds, earning a round of laughter.

“can you not?” yoongi mutters, but there’s no heat behind it. his hand shifts to your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

hyemi catches the way you lower your gaze. 

“what i think they mean to say is that… we’re happy for you,” hyemi says, her voice softer now, a rare moment of sincerity slipping through her usual banter. she attempts to correct the guys but steers the ship in a completely different direction. “you two are good together. and even though ___ would’ve said yes if that was an engagement ring—”

“w-wait, what?” yoongi’s head snaps toward hyemi so fast you’d think she just revealed a state secret. his eyes are wide, disbelief etched across his face. “hyemi, what did you just say?”

hyemi grins, clearly enjoying the chaos she’s unleashed. 

“you heard me.”

you groan, dragging a hand over your face. 

“god, don’t listen to her. she’s talking nonsense.”

but it’s too late. 

yoongi’s gaze is locked on you now, searching for something in your expression. 

“but is it true?”

“no,” you say quickly, your voice sharper than intended. “why would you even—”

“___, if it was an engagement ring…” hyemi chimes in, her voice sing-song, “wouldn’t you have said yes, ___?”

“hyemi!” you snap, glaring at her. your cheeks burn, the heat spreading all the way to your ears.

yoongi blinks.

his lips parting as if he’s about to say something, but you cut him off.

“can we not do this right now? i’m tired, i’m grumpy, and i’m this close to kicking you all out.”

the room goes quiet for a beat, the tension hanging heavy in the air.

then taehyung, ever the instigator, leans forward with a wicked grin. 

“so… that’s a yes.”

the teasing simmers down after that, the room settles. namjoon and jin argue over whether or not they should check your blood pressure, while jungkook, taehyung, and jimin try to beat hyemi and hobi with some card game. 

yoongi hasn’t left your side. his arm draped casually along the back of the couch. when your head tips onto his shoulder, he doesn’t hesitate, pressing a kiss to your temple like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“they’re not leaving anytime soon, are they?” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

“probably not,” he replies, lips quirking in a small smile.

you sigh, closing your eyes. the room is loud, but his presence is grounding. for a moment, you let yourself sink into it, the warmth of his hand on your arm and the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your ear.

“okay, let’s be serious for a second,” namjoon announces, standing in the middle of the living room with a no-nonsense expression that only half-convinces anyone. “you’re due any day now, so we should probably—”

“no.”

you cut him off so fast that it takes him a moment to register.

“but—”

“no.” you shake your head, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. “absolutely not. you’re not poking me, prodding me, or whatever else you have planned. not happening.”

jin sets his drink down and raises a brow. “we’re doctors. we’re just trying to help.”

“you run a dermatology practice. you are not my OBGYN. you’re my friends,” you retort, glaring at them. “i love you all so much. thank you for caring and for all the support you’ve given me for the past 9 months. whether it was running an errand or picking up a craving, to planning a surprise baby shower and for this—i am so grateful. but holy fuck, i do not want to be touched. if you guys are here as my friends, then do that. be my friends right now and distract me since no one brought any fucking drugs.”

yoongi glances between you and the two men, hesitating. “honey, maybe just—”

“no.”

“you seem stressed. maybe checking your blood pressure isn’t an awful idea—”

“yoongi,” you snap, turning to him with a warning look. “don’t.”

he holds his hands up in surrender, lips twitching as if fighting a smile. 

“okay, okay. no check-ups.”

“she’s scary,” jin mutters to namjoon, who nods in solemn agreement.

the moment is interrupted by jungkook’s sudden, blunt proclamation: “you’re really pretty, though. personally, i like it when you’re bitchy.”

your head whips around to look at him, eyebrows raised. 

“what?”

“i mean, you’re glowing and all that,” he continues, shrugging like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “but also... just pretty. i can’t wait to see your boobs get all big and milky—”

you stare at him for a beat before snorting, laughter bubbling up despite your irritation. 

“shut up, jungkook.”

“i’m serious!”

“she said shut up,” yoongi interjects, his tone calm but edged with something sharper. he leans forward, smacking jungkook lightly on the chest. “remember what we talked about before coming here? boundaries, right? she’s the mother of my child, not some girl you get to flirt with.”

“but... she’s ___. our ___.” jungkook protests, gesturing at you. 

“my ___,” yoongi corrects him. 

your heart skips a beat, the simple declaration sending a wave of warmth through your chest. you glance down, fiddling with the edge of the blanket to hide the smile threatening to break free.

“ugh, you’re both annoying,” hyemi interrupts, rolling her eyes. “can we focus on something fun? karaoke, maybe? or better yet, you guys can cook.”

“cook?” you echo, sitting up straight. “absolutely not. do you know how much yoongi paid for that stove? you’ll burn the kitchen down.”

“you need to relax,” hyemi says, waving you off. “it’s your last few momments of peace before you officially become a milf. let us take care of everything.”

“i don’t need to be taken care of,” you argue, even as yoongi gently pushes you back against the couch.

“you do,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “just for tonight.”

you glance around at the group, their faces bright with amusement and affection, and something in you softens. 

no one waits for you to answer. 

truth be told, you don’t have much left in you. so, you let them do their thing. soon enough, the room buzzes with laughter as the guys head to the kitchen, their voices mixing with the clatter of pots and pans. hyemi sets up the karaoke machine, throwing you a wink before belting out an off-key rendition of some pop song.

yoongi stays by your side, kneeling in front of you with a plate of food in hand. he picks up a piece of kimbap and holds it out, his expression soft and expectant.

“open,” he says simply.

you narrow your eyes at him, but the corners of your lips tug upward despite yourself. 

“i can feed myself, you know.”

“we talked about this, remember?” yoongi reminds you. “figure out how to need me.”

“i’m fine—”

“then humor me.”

with that, you sigh but obey. you lean forward to take the bite. his thumb brushes against your bottom lip as he pulls his hand back, and your cheeks warm at the casual intimacy of the gesture.

the noise in the background fades for a moment, replaced by the steady thrum of your heart.

you glance around the room, taking in the laughter, the teasing, the warmth that fills the space. it hits you all at once—this is the last time you’ll all be like this. the next time they come over, there’ll be a baby crying in the background, diapers on the counter, and toys scattered across the floor.

your throat tightens, a mix of happiness and nostalgia swelling in your chest. you reach for yoongi’s hand, squeezing it gently. he looks up, his gaze softening when he meets yours.

“what?” he asks quietly, leaning closer.

“nothing,” you murmur, resting your head against his shoulder. “just... thanks for being here… and for not letting them touch me right now. i just… i only want you. i'm sorry i'm being such a bitch.”

“don't be... and for the record; i want you to only want me,” he replies, his voice steady and sure. “because me? i want you always.”

and somehow, in the chaos of it all, everything feels exactly as it should be.

always.

by the time everyone leaves, you fell asleep about 3 times. 

as yoongi manages to kick taehyung, jimin, and jungkook out, he wakes you up gently and helps you get to bed. in between little giggles and stumbles along the way, yoongi manages to tuck you in. 

he leaves you be as he gets ready for bed. then, after what feels like an eternity, he joins you. laying beside you, he pulls you close. 

“so… are we getting married or—”

“oh my god.” you bury your face into his chest. you mutter curses under your breath.

yoongi chuckles, bringing his hands to your hair. as he pats your head and plays with your hair, you feel his hand up your cheek. lifting your face up, his eyes look into yours. 

“you’d really say yes?” he asks.

with wide eyes, you look at him and feel it. your heart stutters at the way he’s looking at you. it’s too much—too sincere, too raw—and frankly? you aren’t too sure if you’re in the mood to dea with it. 

“would you stop?” you sigh, averting your gaze. “it’s late.”

“so… yes?,” yoongi echoes, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

you huff, reach up and place a kiss on his lips. 

“yes,” you admit. “if you had asked me to marry you, i would’ve said yes.” 

“noted.”

“go to sleep, babydaddy.”

“is that all i am to you?”

“yup.”

you’re past your due date. 

to be exact, you’re 1 day past your due date. 

to be even more exact—it’s 2AM on the day of your due date. 

you’ve been tossing and turning in bed, unable to get a wink of sleep. perhaps it’s the excitement or perhaps it’s the fact that you’ve never been so fucking uncomfortable in your entire life until now. regardless, you push and shove the blanket off of you and get up from bed. 

yoongi is asleep, his face half-buried in his pillow with one hand tucked under it, the other resting on your side of the bed like he’d been holding you before you slipped away. you glance at him, briefly considering crawling back in just to steal some of his calm. but the restlessness gnaws at you, so you leave, careful to avoid the creak in the floorboards as you shuffle out of the bedroom.

in the living room, the hospital bag sits exactly where you left it by the door. it’s already been double-checked—more than triple, honestly—still, you kneel (slowly and not so prettily) and unzip it again. 

clothes, baby onesies, snacks, charger. waterbottle. pillow. pajamas. fully charged iPad. 

your fingers brush over each item as if they might’ve magically disappeared since the last time you looked. satisfied, but still not satisfied, you zip it back up and wander into the kitchen. 

the fridge hums softly, and you open it, scanning the shelves of prepped meals, labeled containers, and the stash of snacks yoongi insisted on packing "for himself, but really for you.” he’s always prepared like that—calm, measured, thinking five steps ahead. 

it’s part of what’s kept you grounded through this whole thing, but right now it’s also infuriating. 

how can he be so fine when you’re this... this?

your hand rests on the counter as you exhale sharply, shoulders slumping. keys, wallet, slippers—all lined up neatly by the door. 

everything’s ready. 

except you. 

you feel a swell of emotions—anxious, impatient, annoyed—and it only intensifies as you pad into the bathroom, flipping the light on softly.

the mirror reflects your tired eyes first, then your body. your hands instinctively go to your belly, fingers tracing over the curves and stretch marks that have formed like vines around your stomach. it’s beautiful, really. the garden that you are and the flower that blooms inside of you. 

it feels almost bittersweet now. 

“what’re you doing up?”

yoongi’s voice comes from behind you, gravelly with sleep. you meet his eyes in the mirror, his hair tousled, a crease from the pillow faintly etched into his cheek.

“couldn’t sleep,” you murmur, watching as he steps closer. his arms wrap around you, warm and secure, his hands resting on the swell of your belly. he presses his chin into the crook of your neck, placing a soft kiss against your cheek.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, his voice low and soothing. “hmmm? tell me, honey.”

you sigh, leaning back into his hold. 

“i feel… anxious. and annoyed. and so tired but not tired enough to sleep. and you’re just in there snoring like nothing’s happening.”

“you’re mad at me for sleeping?”

“yeah.”

he chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through your back. “okay. you’re cute when you’re mad.”

“don’t start,” you warn, glaring at him in the mirror, though the edge in your tone is dulled by his touch.

“seriously, though,” he says, turning his head to kiss your temple this time, “you’re doing amazing, and everything’s ready. we’ve checked through everything over and over again. ___, you don’t have to stress.”

you huff, crossing your arms over his. “easy for you to say. you’re not the one carrying a human who’s decided to take their sweet time coming out.”

he chuckles softly, nuzzling into your neck. “baby injeolmi is taking their time because the home you are for them isn’t an easy goodbye. you’ve been glowing throughout this entire pregnancy. you’ve been so healthy and perfect, ___. baby injeolmi is allowed to take their time. you’re the perfect home.”

“well, i’m ready,” you snap, twisting around in his arms to face him. the irritation bubbling in your chest spills over, and before you can stop yourself, you blurt out, “maybe we should just—i don’t know—have sex or something. isn’t that supposed to help?”

yoongi freezes for a beat, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. “...what?”

“i heard that if you cum inside of me, it helps soften my cervix,” you say, arms akimbo now, glaring up at him like he’s the one keeping the baby from arriving. “this baby’s already late, and i’m losing my mind. i don’t really care to try other remedies right now—”

“you’re serious?” he cuts in, his lips quirking up into that infuriatingly lazy grin. “you’re actually suggesting this right now?”

“what’s wrong with the suggestion?” you grumble, the heat rising to your cheeks more from frustration than anything else. “you don’t want to have sex with me, is that it—”

“shut up,” he bites back a laugh, his hands coming up to rest gently on your waist. “i can’t take that sentence seriously… but you know, most people don’t demand it like they’re negotiating a business deal.”

“yoongi,” you warn, shooting him a glare that could burn a hole through steel. 

he leans down slightly, his face softening as he brushes a thumb over your cheek. 

“alright, alright,” he says, voice dropping to that low tone that makes your knees feel a little less steady. “if it’ll make you feel better.”

you roll your eyes but don’t move away when he tilts his head, kissing you slow and deliberate, like he’s determined to tease you just a little more.

“make it worth it,” you mutter against his lips, still annoyed, but letting yourself be pulled under his warmth anyway. 

“oh, i’ll make sure of it,” he murmurs back, his smirk pressing against your mouth as his hands trail lower. 

you giggle as he begins to feel you.

the night gown you’re wearing is pretty thin and and low. yoongi has no problem tugging the top part down, revealing your breasts. he stares at them through the reflection of the mirror as he guides his hands around them. massaging your breasts, you let out a moan as he sloppily kisses your cheek. 

“y-yoongi?”

“yes, honey?”

“i love you,” you breathe. “need you to know that… because i want you to fuck me like you don’t.”

for a moment he’s stunned. 

“you want it rough, baby?” 

“so rough…” you hum. “bend me over, slap me around, and treat me like your favourite toy.”

he hisses. 

“not my toy,” yoongi mutters. “___, you’re the love of my life.”

you pause. 

“w-what?”

yoongi pauses too. he brings his hands to cup over your cheeks and looks into your eyes. 

“i love you. i’m in love with you. you’re the love of my life, ___. nothing has ever made more sense than this.” 

yoongi fucks you like he never has before. 

it’s fucking wild. 

the way his pelvis hits your ass as he pulls your hair has you absolutely floored. every time your knees shake, he slaps your ass and hisses at you. you can’t help but feel so fucking horny. 

“take more,” yoongi grunts. “you wanted more, right? you said you could handle it? fucking handle it.” 

he thrusts in you, hard and rough. his pace is selfish—almost relentless… but it also feels so fucking good. yoongi fucks you like he has been wanting to this entire time. 

“n-nghhh,” you moan. “y-yes… like t-that daddy! fuck me so good…” 

yoongi continues to fuck you like a dog. he whimpers and mutters things under his breath, causing you to focus on his breathing. you like the way he’s panting and losing his mind over your pussy. before you can make a comment about it, he holds you in such a way that turns your body over. 

he towers over you and practically drools at the sight of your tits. 

yoongi lowers himself, shoving his face into them. he licks your nipples, flicks them, and bites. you throw your head back, feeling how sensitive they are as he uses his tongue to play with them. they harden but it’s nothing compared to how hard his fucking cock is. 

he lifts himself up and hits your his dick agaisnt your folds. without warning, he sinks his heavy cock inside you. you gasp, but he interrupts it with a kiss. 

the kiss starts slow—like yoongi’s testing your resolve, coaxing you out of your annoyance with the deliberate press of his lips. but when your hands grip his hair, pulling him closer, his control unravels. his mouth moves against yours with a deeper urgency, his fingers curling into your waist like he’s anchoring himself. whatever frustration you have suddenly dissolves, replaced by the heat pooling in your chest as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss. 

fuck.

it’s not just a kiss; it’s a conversation, a promise, a distraction. 

yoongi kisses like he’s reminding you of every reason to trust him, to lean into him, to let him take care of you. and for a moment, you forget why you were ever annoyed in the first place. 

against his lips, you murmur; “i love you.”

he smiles. 

“i love you too.”

with that, yoongi digs himself deeper inside you. 

you feel him everywhere. his fat cock hits different angles and reaches further than what you remember. you feel choked about it to be honest… his dick has always been big and it’s never been easy for you to adjust to—but perhaps with all the pregnancy sensitivity, his cock feels even more insane to you. 

it’s so insane. 

like, you’re near sobs insane. 

“a-are you crying?” 

“no,” you pant. “i… i just… fuck, i love this so much. i’m gonna cum soon—o-oh, god! y-yoongi… mhmmm…”

he chuckles, tucking your hair back. yoongi fucks you, deep and fast. you gasp from the sharpness that suddenly occurs. he smirks at the way your lips curve. they twitch and it boosts his ego. 

“you like that, mama? you like that i’m fucking your pretty pussy like this? like a fucking dirty slut? been fucking flirting with jungkook all week—”

“i wasn’t—”

“should’ve just stayed patient, honey,” yoongi growls. “what? you think he can fuck you like this? fuck you like you’re the most perfect thing on earth? no. he can’t. only me, mama. only i can fuck you like this, okay?”

“o-okay—”

“say it,” yoongi demands. “fucking say it.”

“only you.”

yoongi inhales sharply. “yeah, that’s fucking right. my little creampie slut… god, you love my cum, don’t you?”

you nod. “love is so much. so milky and creamy—so fucking good. want you to fill me up again, daddy… i want it so bad. will you do it? cum inside me? love it so much…”

“whatever you want,” yoongi breathes. “but first, tell me how good i fuck you.”

you don’t hesitate. instead, you let your words spill out. 

“you fuck me so good, daddy. so fucking good, i can’t breathe… your cock is so thick and big—i’m so sad i can’t suck it. i love how it fits inside me… i love how it makes me feel. so big. so fucking b-big… ughhhh… you have my pussy drenched, honey. so fucking wet for you all the time… i love your cock s-sooo much… don’t even know how to say thank you for fucking me like this. thank you, thank you, thank y-youuu… o-ohhh… oh my god! oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! yoongi—”

yoongi picks up the pace and fucks you so good that you’re at a loss for words. 

you begin to sob, wrapping your arms around him. you hold tight as he drills himself inside of you, using you like a fuck toy. but you don’t mind… espeically when he’s this hot and this fucking perfect for you. 

before you know it, he mutters; “holy fuck.” 

and you feel it. 

a big gush of his cum floods your insides. you feel his cum spill out but he continues to pump himself inside and out of you. you hold onto him, attempting to catch your breath too. truth be told, you came minutes ago… you’ve just been too into it to stop. 

as he’s about to move, you stop him. 

“don’t pull out. want to keep as much cum inside me.”

“i can’t get you pregnant again.”

you laugh as he kisses your neck. 

he joins your laughter and holds you close too, his arms warm and steady around you. the sheets are tangled at your feet, your body still humming with the intimacy you just shared. for the first time all night, the tension that had been coiled in your chest is gone, replaced by a deep, bone-deep exhaustion and something softer—something sweeter.

“you good now?” he murmurs against your shoulder, his lips brushing over your skin in a lazy kiss. “can you get some rest?”

you hum, resting your cheek against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a comfortable haze.

“yeah. i think i might actually sleep now.”

“good,” he says softly, his voice thick with sleep as he presses his chin to the top of your head. “you need it, mama. we have the next few years to lose sleep.”

his hand strokes absentmindedly over your back, his touch grounding, and for a moment, you let yourself sink into the quiet. the two of you are on the edge of drifting off when the words spill from your lips, unfiltered and raw.

“yoongi?”

“hmm?” he replies, barely awake but still tuned in, like he always is with you.

“i’m really glad it’s you.”

his hand stills on your back, and you feel him shift slightly, pulling back just enough to look down at you.

“what do you mean?”

you glance up, meeting his gaze. the room is dim, the glow from the streetlights outside casting faint shadows across his face, but his eyes are clear and focused, waiting for you to continue.

“i mean…” you take a breath, your fingers tracing the curve of his collarbone as you search for the right words. “i’ve always wanted this for myself, you know? the baby thing. the family thing… honestly? us. ever since the day i met you, i think i’ve always known you had the qualities i looked for and find attractive in a man… i never did anything because we barely knew each other but honestly? i’m so relived it’s you.”

“oh, are we confessing?” yoongi sighs. “i’ve wanted you for a long time.”

“really?”

“mhmm,” he kisses the top of your head. “all of this? all of you? worth the wait.”

the air stills. 

“yoongi?”

“yeah?”

“the most healing thing i’ve ever done for myself is choose a good man to be the father of my baby. and that’s you.”

his lips part slightly, his expression softening as the words sink in.

“you’re patient and kind and thoughtful. you make me feel safe, even when i’m a mess. you make me laugh and you let me cry. you… sit with me through it all. you hold my hand and when i’m ready to run again, you’re right beside me. i can’t tell you how much i wanted this—how much i had convince myself i was worth being with a man like you… yoongi, you make everything better.” your voice cracks a little, and you laugh at yourself, shaking your head. “i don’t know how else to say it and it makes me so sad that you will never know the extent of it all but—i’m really glad it’s you.”

he’s quiet for a beat, his gaze steady, his thumb brushing over your cheek where a tear had slipped out unnoticed. then, he leans down, kissing you—not with heat or urgency, but with a tenderness that feels like an answer, like a promise.

when he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“you have no idea how much that means to me,” he says, his voice low and steady, but the emotion behind it makes your chest ache. “to know that i’m good enough for you—it’s overwhelming. beyond anything i’ve ever imagined for myself. but to have you like this? to have you trust me, to love me the way you do... it’s everything, and i can’t fathom it. you and baby injeolmi are my everything. you always have been.”

9 months ago, yoongi murmured; "what are friends for?"

this.

moments like this.

where you’re reminded of how incredible it feels to love, to fall in love, and to be in love with someone like him. it’s not just a relief—it’s a revelation, a warmth that blooms in your chest and refuses to fade.

it's always.

[rainytapestry]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ★ㅤㅤi love you, im sorry ㅤ ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

summary. two oblivious friends and the 3 words left unspoken.

aka inspired from the prompt “you’ve been talking about this crush for months now, when are you going to just go for it?” “i don’t think i can…” by @novelbear

pairing. jake x f!readerㅤ

wc. 2k

genre. fluff , crush to friends to lovers , college au , (mutual?)pining , jake is just dumb , hee is a brat(affectionate) , jealousy(??) , apparent one sided crush

warnings. profanity , not proof read , crusty aah writing , fries dipped in coke , drinking (like once)

notes. hi this is my first work on this account and i havent written anything in almost a year lmao so pls bear w me :"3 this was a word vomit and i have no idea what i yapped in the ending so :D!? happy reading ^0^

‘So, how’s it going with him?’ Jake asks as he places his lunch tray beside yours at the college cafeteria. You look up from your phone to meet his hopeful eyes, ‘who…?’ ‘Omg, Y/N, your crush!? You’ve been talking about this crush for months now, when are you going to just go for it?’

You almost choke on your coffee, from when did Jake have such an interest in your so-called crush. The “mystery guy” as your friend group likes to call him. Little did they know that the boy in question was sitting right beside you and yeah, it wouldn’t be the wisest decision to let that out.

‘I… don’t think I can’, you answered hesitantly, that was the closest to the truth you could give Jake and you hated lying to your friend, especially when feelings were involved, feelings involving… him.

Maybe if you weren’t so close with him, it would have been easier to handle the overwhelming urge to confess to him, hold his hand and softly kiss his cheek. But life was definitely playing a cruel joke on you when your small hallway crush turned out to be your seatmate in freshman year, two years ago.

It was almost impossible not to be friends with Jake from then on. You found yourself talking to each other in class, which eventually led to exchanging numbers and the rest was history. He had this inborn kindness in him, which perfectly complemented his pretty face, the happiness that radiated off him was quite infectious. And with each day that you got to know him, you fell a little more in love with him.

'C'mon Y/N, it's worth a try plus most chances are he'd like you back, right?' you dont, Jake. 'Plus, I'm always here in case of any help. I know our friends may keep making jokes on it but I totally understand you', he ends with a small shy smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, you don't know why.

But you want to scream at his face STOP! Stop making it so hard for me to move on, Jake. Instead you return his smile, or at least you try, before quickly stuffing your face with your lunch, making it impossible for him to continue the previous conversation. Talk about healthy coping mechanisms...?

The slip up had just been a drunken mistake. It was one of those stupid drinking games Yunjin had roped you into and soon enough, you were mildly intoxicated or just way too lovesick to admit to your crush. You couldn't ignore the bitterness in your stomach every time a girl approached Jake at the party.

‘Okay, Y/N, drink up if you like someone present here’, Sunghoon passed you a mischievous smirk, which oddly enraged you, or maybe it was the alcohol already in your system. Before you knew it, you were drowning down the cup in your hand, gripping it tightly as if that’ll give you an ounce of strength. You gave one glimpse at Jake who had a concerned expression on his face.

Someone else, probably Yunjin, excitedly asked, ‘Omg who?! And how do I not know?’

Since then it has been a challenge in your friend group to “search” for him if they ever felt bored. You wonder who else can ever attract such an unemployed friend group, it is honestly a bit funny to see them try.

Your train of thoughts is broken when you feel someone sitting beside you, it’s Heeseung. ‘You know, staring at him from afar won’t do any good’, he shrugs. Alarmed, you look at him motioning towards where Jake is currently playing on the football field. You often find yourself sitting at the bleachers, after class waiting for him.

‘Hey! What d-do you mean?!’ you sputter, totally caught off guard at his words. How does Heeseung even know? No, how can he even get the slightest idea that you like Jake? You thought your masking skills were actually pretty good.

The boy gave you a small chuckle, 'you really think you are very sneaky and nonchalant about your crush don’t you? I’m surprised how our friends and even Jake haven't caught up to it.’

This little shit. You hit him with one of your books. ‘Woah, stop, at least I haven’t exposed you in front of them!’ He raises his hands in defense.

Well, he does have a point. He could have won whatever bet your friends had going on you, but he didn’t. ‘Okay, fine, thank you Heeseung for your kind gracious favour’, you roll your eyes at him. ‘That’s more like it, brat.’ You stick out your tongue in return.

You rest your back on the bench, your eyes naturally following the brunette as he scores another goal, a small smile tugging at your face. ‘But in all honesty, I think there’s a hole on Jake’s back with the entire staring contest you have going on.’ ‘fuck off if you can’t help.’

Heeseung sighs, ‘the only advice for this is for you to confess, a relationship isn't gonna form itself.’ ‘He’s my friend, do you see everything on the line?’ ‘And do you see that he could possibly like you back?’ he raises his eyebrows.

Yeah, the false hope, being delusional did not seem like a fun choice right now. You would have pushed Heeseung out of the bleachers if it weren’t for Jake running towards both of you, a weird look on his face, ‘Why are my two friends strangling each other?’ he yells over the stands. Heeseung ruffles your hair, ‘Friendly banter! By the way, you two want to grab dinner with me? His practice is almost over too.’

Something in your gut tells you that Heeseung may be up to no good and the shit eating grin that follows his requests, probably confirms your suspicions.

But Jake beats you to the reply, ‘Of course, I’m kinda starving. I need my extra fries.’

Something shifts in the air once the three of you are out of the campus. For starters, Heeseung finds it very funny to annoy you and Jake has this distant look on his face from earlier. He’s also very quiet and Jake is never silent, especially with Heeseung.

Once you enter the restaurant, you and Jake take your places in a corner booth. You sit across from him. ‘Hey, was everything okay at uni? You seem down.’ He finally makes eye contact with you, you have no idea why he refused to meet your eyes before, ‘Yes, Y/N, just a little tired.’ He retreats back to his previous positions.

You nod, not convinced with his explanation when a thought comes up. Did he… hear you both?! Nonono, he can’t! You’ll be beyond cooked and losing a close friend must not be a nice feeling. Yeah, he most definitely did but you cannot lose your shit in public so you try distracting yourself. You nervously look around, hoping for Heeseung, who was at the counter, to finally come and break the silence.

Goodness, this thick uncomfortable silence or is it the greasy smell of fast food oil? No, it is definitely the silence between the both of you which is really unheard of in your relation.

You finally see a figure approaching, balancing the three orders, and a small grin on his face. ‘Here we go, people.’ he takes a seat beside you and Heeseung doesn’t miss the subtle change in Jake’s expression, smirking at the latter.

‘Omg, Y/N, you should try the fries dipped in coke.’ ‘you are fucking disgusting, Lee Heeseung, get away from me’, you scrunch your nose in disgust but not before the boy pushes some soaked fries at your direction, making you gag.

Seeing the exchange, Jake hastily picks up the fry, removing it, and instead replacing it with his normal, not soaked in coke fries. The insult you were about to hurl at Heeseung dies in your throat, looking up at the boy who is back to quietly eating his burger.

What has gotten into him?

'I'm so full', Heeseung stretches walking out of the place into the cool night air. 'Ok then, see yall later, I'll head this way', nodding his head. You bid him goodbye when he mouthes something you're unsure of. go. for. it. before giving sly smirk and walking off.

You stand confused in your place, and realize that Jake has been silent for so long. You turn around to see him already walking down the footpath. You sigh deeply, tired with his weird actions before catching up to him.

'Yah Jake hold up!' he hears your voice call out behind him, stopping on his tracks. You stop your jog, slightly catching your breath. 'No why the hell am I chasing you in the middle of the road? Please drop this act.'

He turns around abruptly, face to face with you and you realize the distance between the both of you, your heart picking up its pace. Jake's face is unreadable, his eyes are closed off and expresionless. You are about to ask another question when he– 'Is Heeseung the one you like?' His eyes seem dead set. Despite yourself, you can't help but break into a chuckle.

Were you reading the situation right? 'Help what?! Not that dumbass, hell no. You know for someone as smart as you, you really are oblivious.' And it all starts to click in, Jake's rough behavior, his distant stares, and the glares he was throwing at Heeseung.

'Are you... jealous?' You ask, trying to peer into his eyes for something... anything. Jake shakes his head, raking a hand through his hair, 'It's no problem if you date him obviously, he's good guy, plus I think you look really cute together and I want the best–' 'I like you', you blurt out in middle of Jake's long ramble, freezing in your place.

Did you just–?! No how did you mouth even speak without coordinating with your brain? Your eyes widening in shock, Jake's expression is pretty much the same (oh here goes your friendship) before you see the shift in his face. Shock slowly giving way to a more shy face.

'What...?' 'Um, sorry, I messed it up so bad didn't I?' You may as well confess now that he knows. 'I... have liked you for the longest time, Sim Jaehyun and it is not easy to hide all these feelings when you're standing right here. I know I'll probably mess up our entire friendship but I can't lose you.'

there. here comes the rejection. you shuffle in your feet, resisting the urge to dash in the opposite direction. 'Is this real?' he says instead.

You look up to face him and his face has broken into a bright smile, and suddenly it's hard for you to breath because why are you seeing your crush beaming at you when you just confessed your feelings.

Suddenly you feel a pair of lips on yours, catching you off guard. Oh this cannot be happening. You melt into the kiss immediately, reveling at the feeling. Your rapid heartbeat has stilled, almost in tandem with his.

This kiss is short lived but it leaves you feeling breathless. 'Are we seriously this dumb? I... I like you too', Jake's the one to break the silence, placing a hand on your cheek.

You feel a small flower bloom in your chest at his words. He tugs at your hands, pulling you close, into a hug.

Resting your face at the crook of his neck, you mutter, 'We're in the middle of the road, we should move.' Although the lanes were empty, save for a few passing cars.

'I know but I like it here', Jake says softly and you can almost see the pout forming. Yeah you'd stay this way forever if it meant never letting him go.

reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated :D

work belongs to @ rainytapestry don't steal

[captain-joongz]

A little show

Pairing: Min Yoongi x f!reader

Genre: uni au, pure smut with a dash of plot, some fluff, strangers to lovers

Word count: 9.6k

Summary: Who knew that getting off in the uni bathroom to get away from the world's most boring lecture could lead to getting absolutely railed by a cute postgrad student... but third time's the charm, right?

Warnings: slight exhibitionism, masturbation in a public bathroom, sex in a public bathroom (for once they're even using condoms lol), yoongi is a little shit but he'll rock your world, dirty talk, slight choking kink, dom-ish yoongi, who am i kidding he's a fucking beast, fingering, backshots, rough sex, some begging, biting and marking, they literally don't talk to each once before fucking

A/N: oof this was totally unplanned but i cannot be held responsible for anything after seeing the d-day concert movie, this is all yoongi's fault. also it ends surprisingly fluffy for the filth that's contained within

credit for the divider to @saradika-graphics, thank you so much <3

I blinked rapidly, trying to keep myself awake while the lecturer droned on, his nervous slightly stuttering voice carrying through the classroom and lulling everyone into a half-asleep haze. Every Tuesday I had to sit through 90 minutes of this man stumbling through every topic, trying to connect with the classroom full of people while anxiously stepping around the whiteboard projecting his presentation.

I was fully understanding, this was his first year teaching and he still hasn’t shaken off the stage fright, but that didn’t stop me from wishing I had never enrolled into this class and rather spent the time doing literally anything else. It didn’t help that it was an afternoon lecture, dragging on until 5PM, which was usually the time I was already completely fried.

I looked around, noting the other students similarly fighting off sleep or browsing internet on their notebooks, some valiantly still trying to keep their attention on the lecturer and failing miserably. I watched the girl in the row in front of me order a cute sweater, deliberating between two colours for about ten minutes before choosing strawberry pink. I approved.

My body was screaming from being bent over the desk in my boredom, back bent so crooked when I straightened out it cracked vertebra after vertebra like a xylophone from nightmares. I sighed, squirmed around, checked the time. Only 5 minutes have passed since I last looked. I barely suppressed a groan. I couldn’t sit still for longer than a minute, leaning back then pressing forward, folding and unfolding my legs, just trying to find a comfortable position to spend the next 40 minutes in and failing.

After 5 more minutes I reached a boiling point, playing with the thought of just booking it halfway through, but instead my unoccupied brain started entertaining itself by slipping into a territory that it deemed more fun. I started thinking about what I’d rather be doing, where I’d rather be, flushing slightly from embarrassment but surrendering to these thoughts as they presented at least some form of entertainment.

I made it barely 10 minutes before I was so painfully wet and aroused I definitely couldn’t make it through the lecture anymore. I had to do something about it, now.

I wasn’t shy about the fact that I occasionally enjoyed wanking in some more public spaces like bathrooms, the thrill of someone possibly coming in and having to keep quiet was getting to me. I didn’t indulge in it often, just when I got really bored and my brain immediately went to “let’s get off to entertain ourselves” instead of doing something normal like other people, just when I was sure there was only a slight chance of someone actually coming across me.

But thinking all that, I realised I’d never taken such liberty while I was in the uni building, probably just thinking about getting out of there as quickly as possible, but fuck, this lecture was getting to me. Somehow it felt more morally wrong than some other random ass places, but I deliberated on it. We were in a secluded corner of the building, it was really high and there was no elevator, the classrooms were smaller and above there was construction going on, which resulted in this place usually being totally deserted except for those unlucky souls that still had lectures here. I was pretty sure there was no other class going on here right now and the chance of someone from here going to the bathroom at the same time was slim.

On a whim I decided to take the risk, my body heating up knowing I was about to give in to the need. I quickly stood up, grabbed my phone and made my way outside. The hall was empty except for a single guy sitting by a table directly across from the bathroom door, but I figured it would be fine. He was wearing headphones anyway, head bobbing to a beat I couldn’t hear and fingers nimbly clicking something on his laptop and toying with the mouse. I slipped past him quietly and went straight for the bathroom door.

Inside was quiet, as if cut off from the outside world, the only two toilets both empty and door wide open. I went to the further one, not that it made much difference with how small the room was, but it still made me feel a little better.

With the door closed and locked for better feeling of security, the excitement finally got the better of me and I rushed to stick my hand into my skirt to pull down my tights and panties, fingers immediately finding the slick folds.

I bent over, the stall small enough to allow me to lean on my elbow on one wall while my ass pressed into the other, fingers going straight for my clit and wasting no time in pressing on it and circling it desperately. Quiet sighs of pleasure spilled from my lips, body trembling with pleasure heightened by the fact I was in a public space.

I barely even touched myself and I could already feel how fucked out I was getting, knees shaking and the pleasure mounting dangerously fast. In my mind I imagined myself bent over the toilet and a warm presence behind me, getting fucked good, strong hands gripping my waist hard, pulling me back on the cock like a toy while telling me to shut up, laughing at me while I bit my fist trying not to let the whole university know how good I was feeling.

My orgasm was approaching embarrassingly quickly, the pad of my finger furiously toying with my clit while my knees were shaking with the mounting pressure waiting to snap. I was so wet I felt my juices dripping down my thighs, dripping onto my hand and making my finger slip all the time as I tried to get myself to cum as fast as possible.

That didn’t seem to be that hard as I could already feel myself hurling towards the edge, cunt spasming around nothing, desperately wishing to be filled, as my ass pressed harder into the wall and my back arched. I could feel a little cramp starting up in my wrist, but I didn’t let up, keeping the pace on my clit as I felt the start of an intense orgasm, the sensation bursting through me like a tornado and I let out a moan muffled into the crook of my elbow. My knees buckled with the force of it and thank god that I was still leaning on the wall otherwise I would have for sure fallen down.

My whole body relaxed, thighs and knees still shaking as I tried to get my breathing back under control. The bathroom was suddenly eerily quiet now that there wasn’t blood rushing through my ears and I wasn’t blinded by my own ecstasy, and I flushed in embarrassment but still couldn’t stop myself from a little joyful giggle leaving my lips in breathless wonder.

I took my time getting myself back into order, cleaning myself up and righting my clothes again. I was in there for only about 15 minutes, so there was no reason to rush. I did notice that my legs had a little boneless swagger to them as I suddenly went from high strung in boredom to perhaps a little too relaxed, a stupid little grin pulling at my lips as I swayed my hips leisurely.

But that changed the moment I walked back out onto the hall. The second I was out of the bathroom I immediately found myself in direct eye contact with the sole student sitting out there. I only had a second to note he was very attractive before I realised he was watching me with the air of amusement, eyes darkening and a smirk forming on his lips as he leaned back and gave me a once over.

I flushed under his heavy gaze, freezing like a deer in headlights. It was obvious he knew what I’d been doing in there, something in my demeanour must have given me away. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his eyes lingering on my hands clutched together before amused grin set onto his face.

I broke out from the daze suddenly and set into motion again, escaping his hungry eyes and entertained aura, hurriedly scurrying back into the classroom where I sat stewing in my own shame for the rest of the lecture.

When I walked back out after we were dismissed, the hall was empty, to my great relief.

“Come on, you should come tomorrow at least for a little bit,” Jungkook whined, pouting at me and hands tugging at the sleeve of my shirt. I gave him an unimpressed look, firmly resistant to his charms, which probably made me the only person in the world that was capable of that.

“I told you Kookie, I’m not feeling it this week,” I said for the fifteenth time that day, “Maybe next time.” The dance major cutely stomped his foot and tugged on my sleeve again. His wild hair flailed around with the wind, probably getting into his eyes, but he ignored it in favour of annoying me.

“But the next party won’t be for god knows how long,” he whined, giving me his ultimate puppy eyes and blinking cutely, “Come on Y/N, you need to let go a little.” Now, I would lie if I wasn’t swayed a little bit, but the exhaustion was weighing on me and I was looking forward to just having a quiet evening in ignoring all of my responsibilities and pretending I have no essays due and there aren’t any deadlines I was missing.

“I’m sorry Kook,” I softened my tone a little to convey I truly was apologetic, smiling at him gently, “I promise I will definitely go to the next party.” The man brightened and straightened out, letting go of me and setting out on the sidewalk leading out of the campus.

“I have your word! No takebacks!” he shouted excitedly and I ran after him laughing. I knew he wouldn’t let me forget it, so I just resigned myself to going to the next party even though I quite disliked them. I had nothing against partying, but I just preferred to go clubbing and dancing, not spend my evening sitting on a stained couch in someone’s living room listening to total strangers get zoinked out of their minds and talk about assignments. But I would go for Kookie. Just once though.

We walked side by side for a moment, just enjoying the awakening spring. It was still pretty cold outside, but the sun shone more often and the temperatures were enough to wear just a light jacket instead of coats with shawls, so I soaked in the atmosphere. People were beginning to filter outside, sitting around on the green grass, talking and studying, and it was nice to see.

Looking around I suddenly froze, standing still in the middle of the path while Kook continued for a few more strides before he realised I wasn’t following. He gave me a confused look, but I was already fighting an embarrassed blush and didn’t pay him much mind.

On the grass by a big tree was quite a familiar looking student, his long wavy dark hair similarly pushed around by the wind as he bobbed his head to music presumably playing in his headphones. He was wearing all black, standing out as a sore thumb in contrast with the green lit up by sun, but he was fully engrossed in his laptop and paid no attention to anything going on around him.

“Hey Kookie,” I called out to my friend, finally looking at him, “Do you know who that guy is?” I discreetly pointed in the man’s direction, hoping I wouldn’t draw anybody’s attention by being a fucking weirdo. Jungkook was a social butterfly despite his shyness and he seemed to know half the university (probably a side effect of hanging out with Jimin all the time), even people from majors that had nothing in common with his, so I was pretty confident he would be able to correctly identify the menace of my life.

“Who?” he started confusedly looking around, eyes jumping around the students just living their lives. I tried pointing again, hoping he would see where I meant without having to outstretch my arm fully. “There, that guy in the black sitting under that tree.”

Jungkook’s eyes finally locked onto his figure and a recognition immediately lit up his face. I chuckled. Of course he did know him.

“Oh sure!” he exclaimed, “that’s Yoongi hyung. He’s a little bit university famous.” I looked at him in shock and then glanced back to the expressionless man sitting on the lawn.

“Famous? Famous how?” I pressed for more info, this time it was me who way playing up the cute act, hanging onto Jungkook’s arm and batting my eyelashes at him. He gave me an amused smile, seeing right through me.

“Well, he’s handsome and yet cool and mysterious, girls love that shit,” Kook played it up, flipping his hair sassily and fluttering his lashes, making me scoff at him amusedly, “Plus he’s a rapper and sometimes performs in the local clubs and bars, so he’s pretty popular.” I turned us away from the black-clad student who was still unaware of anything going on around him and pulled us back onto the path.

“I see,” I hummed noncommittally, not giving him any indication of why I would suddenly ask about Yoongi, but based on the amused looks Kookie was giving me, he must have had an inkling why the sudden interest.

“He’s actually in the same year as Joonie hyung, they’re interning together at the same studio,” Jungkook continued, keeping his eyes on me to gauge my reaction. I hummed again, not saying anything anymore and just sending him teasing looks.

“If you come to the party tomorrow, Yoongi’s for sure gonna be there,” Kookie mentioned seemingly casually, watching me out of the corner of his eyes as he pretended he didn’t care mischievously.

I only shot him a glare and pulled on his arm, leading us out of the campus towards the café where we were supposed to meet Jimin and Tae, Kookie’s friends who graciously adopted me into the group after I got befriended by the shy giant.

For the rest of the afternoon I could feel Jungkook’s eyes on me, his lips pulled into a barely concealed smile as he fought the impulse to tease me in front of the boys about what he must have thought was an embarrassing crush on the school’s resident heartthrob. I ostentatiously ignored him, only shooting him warning glares here and there to which he always responded with shit-eating grins. Jimin and Tae kept giving us confused and entertained glances but ultimately decided against asking what was going on, much to my relief.

God, if they only knew the truth about why Yoongi even was on my radar in the first place.

The next Tuesday I walked into the classroom again, fully determined to sit through the whole lecture and not move even an inch from my seat. This time I chose a chair in the back, where I could comfortably be on my phone and distract myself from the thoughts of last week, from the attractive man and his smirks. I wondered whether he was sitting there again today, listening to what I now assumed was his own music, laid-back and effortlessly hot. I began to squirm in my seat again, but I quickly tempered it down, scolding myself gently for having such a one-track mind.

Once again I made it through an hour and with 30 minutes left, I began to face a crisis. The boredom was getting to me and I needed to use the toilet, my bladder screaming for help and making me shift around on my chair in discomfort. I thought that I couldn’t really face the bathroom without getting extremely embarrassed, but in the end I lost the battle to nature and got up.

Only, stepping onto the hall, I looked up and lo and behold, there he was – Yoongi sitting peacefully by the window and clicking away on his computer, his big black headphones firmly on as always. The movement by the door must have registered at the corner of his field of vision and he eagerly looked up.

The moment his eyes laid on my figure, frozen once again in the hallway and heating up under his stare, he smirked widely like he won the lottery, leaning back and making himself comfortable on the chair. With his gaze following my every movement I hurried into the bathroom, cheeks blushing and knees turning into jelly.

On instinct I went to the furthest stall and locked the door behind me shakily. Having taken care of my business I paced the stall nervously, already feeling myself bend under the tension. I promised myself I wouldn’t do it again, knowing Yoongi was sitting outside fully aware of the nature of my little trip last week, but his demeanour, the winning smirk and dark eyes made me want to break that promise.

Embarrassingly enough, I could already feel myself getting wet again and I begun to lose the conviction to just walk away and go sit back into the classroom for another terrible 30 minutes. The thoughts of Yoongi waiting in the hallway, hungrily watching the bathroom door and thinking about me with my hand up my skirt were getting to me and I finally broke.

Swiftly pulling down my tights and underwear I didn’t waste anymore time in sticking my fingers between my folds, gathering the wetness and rubbing the swollen bud begging for attention. I couldn’t hold back the little sighs and moans of pleasure, my body hyper-sensitive and the lust coursing through my body more intense than I could remember ever feeling.

It didn’t take long before I was choking on the moans I desperately tried to stifle on my arm, knees shaking and close to buckling and pussy clenching on nothing, feeling so empty and so desperate for anything I was losing my mind.

And if I was deliriously cumming on my fingers only a moment later while imagining Yoongi fucking me roughly in the uni bathroom, that was only my business.

With trembling fingers I quickly cleaned myself up, blushing when I realised I was so wet the whole top of my thighs was covered in my sticky juices. Putting myself back together I rushed to scrub my hands clean and soon I was standing behind the door, taking a few deep breaths but the excitement still getting the better of me and I eagerly walked out, expectantly looking for Yoongi’s reaction with a little sly smile on my face.

And I was not disappointed.

The second I stepped out, his head snapped in my direction, confirming that he really was waiting for me to come out. His cheeks were also lightly dusted with pink from excitement, his eyes as dark as midnight with his pupils blown wide with lust. He immediately licked his lips, eyes raking over my form and taking in the shaky knees and trembling hips, the blush on my face, both from recovering from an orgasm and shyness, hair a mess and lips bitten red.

Yoongi suddenly stood up and I realised that he packed up his laptop and headphones, all his stuff probably stuffed into his neat backpack that hung off of his shoulder. He side-stepped from the table and leisurely made his way towards me, black dress pants nicely hugging his form, white tee tucked into them accentuating his slim waist and a thick black oversized shirt hanging off him in a way that made me slightly feral.

But there was something else he wanted me to see, and I clocked it as soon as he got close enough, cheeks absolutely blazing red and my pussy valiantly clenching again even after such an orgasm.

He was hard. When my eyes slid down again to appreciate how the pants fit him so perfectly they landed on an unmistakable bulge, the front of his pants tenting in a tell-tale sign of how much he enjoyed my little show. I gasped and suddenly all confidence sapped from my body and I was left aroused and aching, willing to do anything. He watched me with a mix of condescension and arousal, knowing how easily he won over me and loving how receptive I was to just a light teasing, how the blush spread down to my collarbones and my mouth opened subconsciously, eyes glazing over and brain no doubt filled only with the thoughts of his cock.

But with an arrogant smirk he passed right by me, heading for the door of the men’s bathroom. Only when he was halfway through the door, he threw me a look over his shoulder, winking at me and his grin turned wild and rough. Then he disappeared inside.

I was left in the hall gasping for air, body ravaged by tension and lust and head full of images of Yoongi standing in the bathroom stall and hurriedly yanking at his cock, the red tip wet with pre-cum, the liquid getting smeared all over his length by his eager hands trying to get himself to completion as fast as possible. I imagined him grunting, head thrown back and mouth open but still curled into that annoying smirk.

A door opened somewhere a little down the hall and a mess of voices flowed out, startling me out of my reverie and I realised I had been just standing in the middle of an empty hallway staring dumbly at the bathroom door. I felt the bashfulness catch up to me and it sprung me into movement. With one last look at the door I scurried back into the class and spent the last 15 minutes staring into the wall with flaming red cheeks.

When I walked out after the class ended, Yoongi was back to his place, sitting completely relaxed into his chair and grinning lazily when his eyes caught mine. I felt my whole body jerk with a bolt of lust, but I ducked my head and quickly ran down the stairs, rushing out of the building and towards the café where the boys were already waiting for me. Jungkook stared at my flustered face with an unreadable expression, and I let him think whatever he wanted, too preoccupied with fighting the image of Yoongi cumming all over himself just twenty minutes ago thinking of me masturbating just a wall over.

Later that week, after many orgasms, much deliberating and a whole lot of shame I decided I needed to hear his voice. I kept thinking back to how Jungkook mentioned he was in the same year and major as Namjoon and that he was a performing rapper, and I knew Namjoon put his stuff online. And if Yoongi really was a known name in the bar scene around the area, he must have too.

Asking Jungkook about his stage name would be too humiliating, so instead I decided to rake through Namjoon’s insta because he must have his friend’s account there somewhere, hoping Yoongi would forgive me a little social media stalking. Firstly I scrolled through Namjoon���s posted pictures, but he rarely tagged other people. Most of his pictures were of artworks or Joonie doing something silly and living his best life.

So I switched to the pictures that others tagged you in. It took a while, but I was able to see that most of them were from this guy Hoseok that I had seen around but haven’t really spoken to. I knew he was a double major because he did dance like Jungkook and Jimin, but I had never realised he was also in the same major and year as Namjoon. He seemed to post a lot from the studio, often with Joon hunched over his computer in the background, but after some digging I was able to find one that had them all in it.

It was also from the studio, it must have been the one the boys were interning in, presumably all of them together. Hoseok’s face was grinning in one corner as he was taking the selfie and even though it was dark, you could clearly see two men sitting at a table together and discussing something with serious looks on their faces. A laptop sat between them and one of them had his hand lying on the pause button. It was Yoongi and Joon. Only their side-profile could be seen in the photo, but it was unmistakably them. The description only said “hyung is scolding joonie again” but tapping on the photo it showed that both of them had been tagged. Bingo.

Yoongi’s account was full of mostly dark pictures, some from the same studio and some were of him on stage mid performance, but there weren’t as many as Namjoon and Hoseok had on theirs. I scanned some of them quickly, but even though he looked super hot and the photos were extremely well done, it wasn’t the reason of my searching.

I checked the name of the account again – it was Agust D. And there was a link in the bio. Without thinking I clicked it and was transported to Spotify, Yoongi’s entire career laid out clearly in front of my eyes in the form of three albums.

I spent the evening listening to them, letting his music wash over me and losing myself in the beat and the lyrics. No matter what I was looking for when I wanted to listen to it, I got everything and more. I suddenly understood all those star-struck students that according to Kookie trailed hopelessly after Yoongi, the man had a real talent and an aura that just sucked you right in, like a fly getting trapped in a very smug spider’s web.

His voice was surprisingly lower and rougher than I anticipated, the songs had no shortage of him growling or screaming, emotions pouring off of his voice in waves that just swept me along.

And I couldn’t wait to find out what he sounded like when he was getting his rocks off.

The next Tuesday I climbed those 4 floors of stairs confidently, wearing a short skirt and cute heels, gingerly picking a spot in the class that would allow me to slink off in the middle of the lecture again. Yoongi wasn’t sitting in the hallway yet, but I believed he’d show up soon enough.

The anticipation was coursing through my veins, making me jittery and giggly. From the corner of my eye I could see a classmate giving me a strange look, mouthing at me if I was okay and I nodded hurriedly, giving her a smile, hoping she wouldn’t pay any attention to me when I had to leave.

If the two lectures before were unbearable, this one took the cake. I could barely contain myself, squirming in my seat, trying to make myself comfortable while I checked the time every 2 minutes, wishing half the lecture had already gone by and always getting disappointed at how early it still was.

My mind was going into overdrive, feeding me ideas and fantasies, replaying last week’s encounter on loop. I couldn’t see anything except for Yoongi’s lopsided smirk planted firmly on his face as he made his way into the bathroom to jerk off, his face as he came thinking of me.

The minutes ticked by slowly, and I was absolutely losing my mind, thighs pressing together and hands tangled into the fabric of my skirt, bunching up the material. I made it 40 minutes before I grabbed my phone and sneaked out onto the hall.

Yoongi’s head shot up immediately, already sitting by the window waiting for something. This time I didn’t freeze up, instead I was the one who smirked at him and confidently walked up straight to the bathroom. He watched me raptly, something predatory glinting in his eyes as he leaned forward on the table. Couldn’t help but notice that today he didn’t have his laptop out, he just sat there and watched me, but I moved forward not giving it much thought.

I raised my eyebrow at him and winked right as I disappeared into the bathroom, the door falling shut behind me and sealing me inside in the calm and quietness. I rushed to the furthest stall, shutting the door behind me but not bothering to lock, too horny to think clearly.

I couldn’t believe this was getting to me so much, but the moment I managed to slide my tights low enough and ran my hand through my folds, I was already so wet it was astonishing. I laughed at myself in disbelief as my finger found my clit and circled it. Who would have thought this would become my weekly routine, jerking off in the bathroom while a guy I’ve never even talked to sat outside smirking.

But not today it turned out.

Just as pleasure began coursing through me at the ministrations, pleasured sighs leaving me freely as I got cocky not getting caught until now and the squelching of my wet pussy getting played with rang through the quiet space. Then, I heard the door open.

Immediately I froze, hand stopping but still stuck between my thighs. Slow silent footsteps made their way towards the stalls and I hoped whoever this person was, they would take care of their business quickly and leave right afterwards, but they seemed to be taking this in a really leisurely manner. I was holding my breath, counting the seconds, ears straining to catch any kind of sound coming from them.

“Don’t stop on my account, kitten,” a gruff voice suddenly piped up, the footsteps stopping right outside my stall. Relief and lust rushed through me at his appearance and I couldn’t hold back a desperate whimper, the fingers on my clit going back to work. There was a chuckle behind the door and then he was pushing it open.

I must have been a sight, underwear and tights pushed under my ass, skirt bunched up around my hips, bent over with my back arched leaning on the wall as I desperately played with myself, mouth open and eyes glazed over.

Yoongi’s eyes raked over me and he hummed lowly in appreciation. He made his way in lazily, shutting and locking the door behind him before leaning on it and just watching for a moment. I tried to put on a show for him but I was truly gone, the three weeks of built up arousal carrying me high and my body racing towards the edge in record speed.

I watched him back, watched his dark hungry eyes, his tongue peeking out to wet his upper lip, the way his hands flexed by his hips, twitching with the need to grab himself. I could see his bulge clearly, the tight black jeans barely able to contain it, and I was going crazy for it. When my eyes jumped back to Yoongi’s face, he was smirking at me knowing where I’d been staring at. What I wanted.

Suddenly he pushed himself away from the door and stepped towards me. Startled I straightened out, fingers stopping once more. He descended on me hurriedly, pushing me into the wall with his body, caging me in. Our faces were suddenly only breaths apart and Yoongi took his sweet time, teasing me by getting closer and pulling away with a laugh. I whined, my clean hand coming up to tangle in his hair and he let me, watching me from above as I writhed against him, wordlessly begging for any touch from him.

Finally, he took pity on me and with a cocky grin smashed our mouths together, immediately prying my lips open and licking inside, claiming me roughly and thoroughly. I moaned into him, body arching into his and he pressed closer, pressing me into the wall again and our bodies touched from our heads to our toes. His hand went to my neck, wrapping around it lightly and grabbing my jaw to keep me still as he kissed me with all his might.

Now with both hands I grabbed onto him, one going around his neck and one around the waist, and he broke the kiss to laugh at me quietly, turning my face with his hand so he could kiss around my ear.

“You’re such a little tease, you know that kitten?” he whispered, voice gravelly with arousal, “Coming in here every week… playing with your pussy… making yourself cum… and then coming out and giving me those eyes, cheeks still flushed from your orgasm and yet playing so coy and shy… you’re such a minx.” I tensed, eyes rolling back as he started nipping at my neck, laying wet kisses and bites all over any skin he could get to.

I didn’t even notice when Yoongi’s other hand found its way between my legs, fingers roughly pressing onto my clit. I choked on a moan, head falling back and hitting the tiled wall, hands flexing into his clothes. He bit my shoulder enough to leave a mark, chuckling at my loud keening before pressing his lips to the shell of my ear again.

“Last week I thought I would go crazy sitting there,” Yoongi continued, almost growling into my skin as his fingers twisted meanly around my sensitive nub making me tremble, “I couldn’t focus on anything, not when I knew how much you wanted to give me a show. Almost went to jerk off at least five times but I held off until you came out to repay the favour.” He chuckled again, hand tightening a little on my neck as he leaned back to look at me.

I tried to get my breathing under control but I was stuck with my mouth hanging open, noises flowing out freely as if this wasn’t a public bathroom. Yoongi didn’t seem to mind though, quite happy to watch me come undone just from a little teasing.

“It was the same for me,” I whispered, looking into his eyes and this time playing coy very much on purpose, licking my lips and batting my lashes to play it up, “Had to sit through the rest of the lecture while thinking about you in here. Was hell.” He snickered darkly, immediately catching onto my act.

He hummed, finger dragging across my lower lip, fascinated for a moment before he snapped back to himself, mouth pulling back into a smirk.

Without a warning his other hand moved lower, fingers tracing my entrance before two of them plunged inside. I moaned out, body seizing up at the sensation. I was wet enough that they went easy but there was still the pleasurable sting of being stretched out on two digits.

Yoongi certainly wasn’t the type to waste time. He hummed satisfied, watching me with those dark eyes, testing the waters with a few shallow pumps before he started finger-fucking me earnestly. Just like everything else, even now he wasn’t gentle, flicking his wrist up and pushing his fingers as far as they could go, curling them to scratch at that one magic spot that had me seeing white.

I whimpered loudly, hips gyrating to ride the motions, already feeling the stirrings of a powerful orgasm lurking on the horizon. Like a shark sensing blood Yoongi chuckled and twisted his fingers on the next thrust. I keened, hands flying up to tangle into his clothes and hair, hips jerking and chasing after the feeling.

“So selfish, kitten,” he tsked at me, still keeping his cool even though I could see his erection attempting to burst through his pants, “only thinking about your own pleasure. No respect for others, huh?”

My first instinct was to apologise, but I got choked up on the words when he started up his pace again, so instead I decided to be a woman of action. Slowly trailing my hand down his torso, feeling him up on the way, grabbing onto his chest, his slim waist, until I finally reached his crotch.

With the first touch he let out a light groan, fingers stuttering and eyes falling shut for a moment, then he was suddenly back onto me, kissing me wildly while his hips fucked into my hand, letting out gruff groans and sighs into my mouth, which I accepted gladly.

For a moment we were just lost in each other, not caring about the noise or the place, just pleasuring each other, touching, feeling. Then Yoongi was tearing away, hand flying from my pussy and stepping back. I couldn’t stop the pathetic whine that left me, and my cheeks flushed with embarrassment at his amused face.

Instead he grabbed me and turned me around until I was leaning on my arms on the wall behind the toilet, one leg up on the closed lid for support. I shivered in anticipation, knowing what would come next. Yoongi was moving about behind me, clothes shuffling and rustling. Then his sweater hit the floor. I turned my head to watch just as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a silver packet. He grinned at me and winked when catching my eye, then reached out to me, condom in hand.

“Can you hold this for me for a second, darling?” he asked as sweet as honey, but there was something devilish twinkling in his eye.

“Of course,” I answered him. I meant for it to be sassy, but it came out on a breathless whisper as I took the packet and watched Yoongi’s hand run through his hair before setting on his belt. He unbuckled slowly, attentively watching my eyes soaking in every second as he pulled the belt through the buckle and out of his pants. Fingers toyed with the button before popping it open, tongue wetting his lips and hungry eyes eating me up. I trembled under his attention but held still, not even breathing as his fingers grasped at the zipper and pulled it down.

Tired of playing, he pulled his tee out and put the hem between his teeth, revealing his taunt stomach and pretty waist. Winking at my obvious gawking, he finally pulled his jeans and underwear down, his erection springing free. The sight of him shocked me to my core, standing there with his t-shirt in his mouth and a smug glint his eye while he leisurely fisted his flushed red cock. I could feel my pussy gushing and clenching around nothing, desperately calling to be filled up.

Yoongi plucked the condom packet from my limp hand and made a quick work of putting it on. He lined up behind me, hands finding my waist to pull my tee from the skirt, making contact with bare skin.

I gasped when I felt his cock slide through my wet folds, but quickly keened and arched into it. One of Yoongi’s hands tightened on my waist while the other disappeared to grab his length.

“Easy now,” he chuckled at my trembling body, my hips chasing after his cock and trying to entice him into fucking me.

“Please,” was all I could get out of my mouth, “please Yoongi, just fuck me.” His hand tightened again and there was a beat of silence before he snickered.

“So you naughty girl do know my name,” he teased and I froze for a moment, embarrassment flooding me. I turned to him again to see him smirking at me, tee hanging off of his form. “I heard it around,” I whispered sheepishly. He hummed, raising his eyebrows at me.

“Not really fair, is it?” he teased some more, a mischievous expression taking over his face, “Is it, Y/N?” I narrowed my eyes at him jokingly and he grinned.

“Now, what’s your excuse, mister?” I asked him sassily, “Not like I’m a campus celebrity… unlike someone here.”

“May or may not have asked Jungkook cause I saw you two hanging out,” Yoongi admitted easily, laughing at me when I paled.

“God,” I groaned, “No wonder he was getting so cheeky whenever you came up in a conversation.” At that Yoongi raised his eyebrow again, amusement dancing on his features.

“That happen often?” he asked impishly, leaning against me and once again letting me feel his cock sliding through my folds. I gasped a little and blushed even darker. “You’re Namjoon’s friend, so occasionally,” I bold-faced lied straight through my teeth and from the look on Yoongi’s face, he was aware but let me get away with it.

There was a moment of silence where we just stared at each other, mischievous little smiles on our faces, and then Yoongi hummed, pulling his tee back up to his lips and biting down on it. I shuddered, the lust once again taking the fore-front seat in my mind. This time he didn’t stop for anything, grabbing himself with one hand and the other going to my waist to hold me in place.

The tip of his cock circled my entrance and I subconsciously clenched, a gush of wetness leaving me. I whined and wriggled in his hold and he tsked at me again before sliding inside in a single thrust with a light condescending giggle. I groaned, pussy immediately squeezing around the intrusion, feeling every inch and ridge. There was a hitch in Yoongi’s breaths, both hands migrating to my waist and grabbing so tightly I felt his nails digging into my skin.

He barely gave me a second before pulling out and thrusting in again, setting a rough pace from the get-go. All I could do was bury my head into the crook of my elbow, biting into the soft flesh there to keep myself from moaning loud enough for the whole school to hear.

The stretch of his cock was exquisite, the slight burn heating up my already sensitive body to a near boiling point. With every thrust there was a tiny twinge of pain that left me breathless, desperate to muffle any noise that could cut our meeting short.

Yoongi didn’t seem to care much about noise, hands on my waist mercilessly pulling me back onto his cock and fucking me with so much force I felt my whole body twitching with the overdrive of sensation, the slapping of our sweaty bodies against each other and the wet squelch of my weeping pussy getting filled to the brim loud enough to substitute for our own sounds. He was grunting gruffly, the noise seemingly leaving his mouth involuntarily and getting muffled by the tee.

I turned my head slightly to look at him, and god, he was a vision with his head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut and face the picture of ecstasy, body rippling with the motion of his pumping hips and strong veiny arms and hands gripping onto me hard enough to go red with the force. I couldn’t hold back the moan and he toppled his head forward to look at me, a tired self-satisfied smirk tugging at his lips at seeing my fucked out expression.

“Take your fucking shirt off,” I gasped out breathlessly, chuckling at his teasingly narrowed eyes, “You have such a dirty fucking mouth, can’t stand for it being shut.” Yoongi laughed, throwing his head back in delight. Within seconds the piece of fabric joined his sweater on the floor and he leaned forward, hands picking on my own shirt with a mischievous expression.

“Shouldn’t you even the score?” I loved how deep and gravelly his voice became with arousal, even when he was being mischievous I could hear the growl in it and it drove me crazy. I scrambled to listen to him, tearing the shirt off and flinging it behind us. Yoongi’s hands immediately travelled up, playing with the edge of my bra before swiftly undoing the clasp and dragging it off. I gasped lightly at his skilled handiwork and giggled, but Yoongi was already preoccupied with kissing along my shoulders and shoulder blades.

His hips angled better and then jerked them into me again, cock sliding even deeper now. I groaned and arched into him and that was his que to start fucking in earnest again. In this position I could hear the strained sighs and grunts every time he slid back inside, the rough deep pace taking a toll on us both.

The back of my thighs was burning from standing bent over and straining my hips for this long and it added to the mix of feelings running through me. I could feel my orgasm catching up with me, Yoongi’s cock now hitting a spot on every thrust that made me want to scream with pleasure, sliding in so deep I swore I could feel him in my belly and it was so good my head was spinning, and all that came out of me were raspy moans. Yoongi bit into my shoulder, grunts raising in octave, hands pulling at my body to meet his thrusts.

I prayed to god that the walls were thick enough to keep the sounds from escaping onto the hall. I knew that if someone stepped inside now, there would be no masking what was going on, we were both too gone for that, just chasing our pleasure.

I was so close, the weeks of build up and the foreplay and teasing making me delirious. There in that moment I just wished I could stay like this forever, to feel this delicious ecstasy for the rest of my life, but I was so close to snapping I just needed a little extra push even though my head was so high in the clouds wishing to be never brought down.

“Please Yoongi, god,” I choked out, “please, I’m so close.” That seemed to snap Yoongi back into his attitude again, but he couldn’t hide how affected he was too.

“What do you want, kitten, mm?” even he couldn’t talk properly through the gasps and grunts, but still tried to sound as cocky as possible. Instead of talking I grabbed his hand and brought it down between my legs.

Yoongi pressed himself to me closer to make the reach more comfortable, his chest glued to my back as he nibbled on my neck and shoulder, giggling breathlessly when his naughty fingers started drawing tight quick circles on my clit.

My moans got louder, the pumping of his cock, hitting so deep inside of me, combined with the stimulation on my clit made me seize up, whole body shaking as the pleasure overtook me. Yoongi groaned every time my pussy clenched around him, drawing him deeper and closer to his own end. Both of us were so sweaty we stuck to each other, the temperature in the stall rising so high it was almost unbearable.

“Yoongi,” I gasped out, just repeating his name breathlessly as I barrelled to the climax, feeling the beginning of the tingling washing over me, pussy seizing up. Yoongi’s hands were like vice on my body, my waist littered with red indents of his nails, some already purpling slightly.

“I know, kitten,” he whispered into my neck, “Me too, you can let go.” The moment those words left his mouth my orgasm exploded over me, enough to blind me and send my ears ringing for a few moments. I let out a raspy groan, hands scrambling to find purchase on the wall and if it wasn’t for Yoongi’s hold on me, my buckling knees would have sent me crashing to the floor, but all I could focus on was the euphoria blooming through my body, flooding all my senses with so much pleasure I could barely fully register anything that was going on. Yoongi fucked me through the peak, hips losing rhythm and all decorum until finally he gave last few hard pumps and stilled too, coming with a drawn-out moan, hands pushing our hips as close together as they could go.

We clung onto each other as we attempted to catch our breaths again. I felt my arms slipping on the tiles as the pleasant ache started setting into my hips and lower tummy, legs screaming for a reprieve as my brain slowly came back into function. I blinked my eyes open, not even realising I had closed them at some point. Yoongi was basically hugging me from the behind, draped over me just breathing deep, faced smushed into my shoulder blade. Then he chuckled.

“You think we’re still in the clear?” he laughed, “How thick do you think these walls are?” A giggle tumbled out of me and before I knew it we were both laughing breathlessly, bodies still pressed close.

“This is officially the craziest thing I’ve ever done,” I told him, shaky knees trying to keep my weight as I started to gather my wits. Yoongi let me go easily and helped me find my balance as my whole body ached, back killing me after Yoongi railed me like a madman.

“And here I was, thinking this was just regular Tuesday for you.”

I slapped his shoulder lightly, but the blush on my cheeks revealed that I couldn’t really say anything to that. His amused snickers told me he was well aware, so I just stood there and watched him slip the condom off, tie it up and then just awkwardly stand there not knowing what to do with it.

“Guess I can’t just casually drop a used condom into a bin in the girl’s bathroom,” he stated nonchalantly, and I giggled at him. In the end he grabbed a bunch of toilet paper and hid it inside, putting in on the closed bin lid for the moment.

Next Yoongi swiftly cleaned himself up and pulled his jeans back on, but when I reached for the paper to do the same, he swatted my hand away. With a much gentler smile he got it himself, kneeled in front of me and started cleaning me up, gently wiping away the mess left on my centre and thighs. I watched him attentively, the soft look on his face making him look boyish, only the naughty glint in his eyes reminiscent of the man he was just a few minutes ago.

When our eyes met, I returned the smile, hand instinctively going to tangle into his hair. I meant to just card it through the dark wavy locks, but the heated look he gave me had me shuddering again, fingers tightening. Yoongi smirked, tongue licking at his lips sensually just inches away from my exposed pussy.

“Still thinking about naughty things, kitten?” he said, voice dark and deep, “Like the sight of me on my knees for you?” I hesitated for a moment before untangling my hand and gently pushing him with a blush.

“I see,” Yoongi hummed thoughtfully, “maybe next time then.” With a wink he stood up and when I didn’t move he motioned for me to start dressing up with a smirk, handing me my bra and t-shirt. We slowly clambered out of the stall, stretching and trying to get all the body parts to working order again.

“How about,” Yoongi drawled out, self-assured and with the attitude of someone who just got their rocks off, “you ditch the lecture you never really go to anyway and we grab something to eat?” I stopped in my tracks, shocked but pleasantly surprised at his offer. I checked the time quickly.

“There’s only like 10 minutes of class left, I can sit that out and then we can go,” I answered, smiling softly, but Yoongi smirked with all his might, something devilish glinting over his face. He leaned towards me, grabbing me lightly by my shoulders.

“Not looking like that, you can’t,” he whispered meanly and spun me around. The moment I laid my eyes on myself in the mirror, I gasped. Yoongi was standing behind me grinning like the devil admiring his handiwork. My neck was littered in little bites and spots ranging from dark pink across red all the way to purple. Yoongi let out a satisfied hum, almost sounding like a purr, his hands going across my waist to pull at the tee tucked into my skirt to reveal more reddish purplish bruises from his fingers.

I turned in his arms and slapped his shoulder lightly, completely flustered by his antics. “How can I walk out of here now? Everyone will know what I’d been doing instead of sitting at the lecture,” I whined, more embarrassed than angry, but Yoongi’s laughing face was totally free of any remorse, “I look like someone beat me up.”

The man said nothing, just pulled me closer to kiss me gently. I looked at him with wide eyes for a moment before I whined again: “I don’t even have a scarf with me today.” He burst out laughing and patted my hip softly.

“I’ll get your stuff, you wait here,” he whispered conspiratorially and with one last wink he was gone. It took him only three minutes to stick his head back into the bathroom, looking a little ruffled and a lot amused.

“I suggest we get going fast, I’m afraid a guy leaving the ladies restroom isn’t as inconspicuous as I wished it was,” he got out quickly, smirking impishly and handing me my coat. I tried to wear it in a way that covered most of the marks, but it was futile, more than half of my neck still on full display.

I walked out of the bathroom the same moment the door to my classroom opened and students started filing out. Yoongi exchanged a single glance with me before we both took off, running down the stairs like we were being chased, only stopping once the building doors slammed shut behind us.

“Jimin’s café?” Yoongi asked breathlessly, still trying to get his strength back and leaning on his knees. I grinned at him and grabbed his hand, already pulling him in the right direction.

“Sure, let’s go!”

Bonus:

“Holy shit! The fuck happened to you?” Jimin exclaimed loudly enough for the whole café to hear the moment he saw me walk through the door. Jungkook and Tae, who were sitting at a small table near the counter to keep Jimin company while he had his shift, turned to look at me only for Kookie to promptly spit out whatever he was drinking.

“Holy shit!” I gave him an unimpressed look and walked up to Jimin to order.

“A little dramatic, don’t you think?” I side-eyed him sassily, but Jungkook was grinning mischievously, a knowing glint in his eye. I flushed under his gaze and looked away at which he started laughing loudly.

“Oh my god! I can’t believe you actually did it,” he giggled, properly entertained by the situation and by my embarrassment. Tae was watching it all unfold, confused look on his face.

“Did what?” Jimin asked, similarly confused.

As if on cue the door opened again and Yoongi stepped in, ignoring everyone currently staring at him and walking straight to me, arm curling around my waist to pull me closer to him. He bent down slightly to whisper in my ear: “Got rid of the evidence successfully.”

“Holy shit!” This time it was Tae who screamed, coming full circle. I gave their smug smiling faces an annoyed glare and turned to Jimin to order again, but he was trying to conceal his grin behind his hand. Even more vexed I turned to Yoongi who was smirking smugly like a cat who got all the cream, hand possessively squeezing at my bruised waist.

“On second thoughts, we shouldn’t have come here,” I said to no one in particular, then turning my narrowed eyes at the man of the hour himself, “and wipe that smirk off your face, mister.” There were giggles from the boys all around us, but Yoongi just swooped down and kissed me softly, then pushed us closer towards the counter.

Jimin cleared his throat and tried to put on a professional expression, but there was mirth in his eyes that I just knew I was going to get all the teasing later. Tae and Kookie cleared out the mess at the table and made space for us to sit down, one looking more amused than the other.

I gave them both the stink eye and ignored them, checking my phone instead, trying to reply to all the messages I’ve missed in the last hour. Around me there was silence, everyone just sitting there looking at each other grinning, before Jungkook cleaned his throat and exclaimed:

“God, fucking finally! Thought Yoongi-hyung was gonna talk my ear off about you!”

“Kookie!” There was a pretty blush spreading on Yoongi’s cheeks, a polar opposite to the cocksure man that was railing my brains out 20 minutes ago. I giggled and squeezed his arm. He gave in easily, leaning towards me.

Then he set his eyes on Jungkook and narrowed them teasingly. “We’re gonna settle that later you brat.”

[ma1dita]

james potter x reader please!

so, in this one james and lily survive but they realize that they aren't for each other and decide to get a divorce or whatever it is in the wizarding world. so harry spends half of the week with james, and half with lily and her new partner, mary macdonald (yes, i am a marylily shipper)

so, reader is harry's new primary school teacher and baby boy loves her!

one day, james picks harry up from school and meets harry's favorite “miss pretty,”

turns out, she was in the same class as james (different house, ravenclaw preferably) but he never really noticed her bcs all he ever thought about before was quidditch, his friends, and lily evans

ooooh, harry setting his dad up with reader would be amazing!

james potter x ravenclaw!teacher!reader

wc: 1.8k

a/n: no warnings, unedited. only one ravenclaw mention; thank you for the req love! sorry for the wait

—

Harry J. Potter is undoubtedly James’ son. From his unruly hair that can only be salvaged by a thick swipe of Sleakeazys, to the glasses that slide down the tiny bridge of his nose, and more evidently as of late—the mischief that runs through his veins, there’s really no doubt that this troublemaking 6-year-old is his.

No blood magic or Muggle fraternity… ehem, paternity test needed.

So there he sits in a too-small, sunshine yellow kiddie chair in the hallway of Harry’s classroom because he’s been called in for a parent-teacher meeting. The chair part wasn’t necessary, but Harry’s playing pretend to be a waiter at a 5-star restaurant that his mommy said Lily was taking her partner Mary to. And whatever Harry says, goes for the most part (which is exactly why he’s in this chair in the first place. He could paint a picture of how red Lily’s face got over the phone when she yelled at him over their baby getting called in for misconduct).

It all must’ve been a misunderstanding, or something he’s yet to find out the reason for, such as why little Harry’s pretend Michelin star establishment has the waiter flying food over in an airplane, complete with bumbling engine noises and his arms sticking out as he runs down the hallway. 

Classy.

“H, I ordered extra fries with this burger!” James says in a ridiculously indignant voice, pretending to huff and cross his arms and he almost cracks a smile when his little one comes giggling down the way back to him, “Coming right up, Daddy!” The other, much older parents that pass by the empty hallway are less enthused, but well, James Fleamont Potter and shame don’t belong in the same sentence, much less a lifetime. 

Tiny airplane arms graze the construction paper Hungry Caterpillar that lines the hallway, painted handprints waving back at little Harry as he runs full speed, until the door opens and BOOM!

James hears laughter instead of tears so when he abruptly stands up, knocking the small yellow chair over (and the purple side table he had all his imaginary food on), albeit trying to come off nonchalant, he’s relieved. What he’s more surprised about is the pretty lady that’s whirling his boy around in her arms.

“Harry the hurricane! Just in time to mix things up and sprinkle some energy back into my day huh?”

You’re dressed in a light pink vest and a long skirt that Harry’s hanging off of like the monkey bars at the playground and you seem to think nothing of it as you stick your hand out for him to shake, “Mr. Potter, thank you for coming in!”

“Oh love, James is fine I—” “DADDY! SAY HI TO MISS PRETTY!”

Quite right, he thinks. There’s something charming about you that he finds himself trying to figure out, hair tied messily on your head, different marker stains on your hands, and a stray holographic sticker that says “What a Star!” seems to have found its way to your abdomen. He thinks that if the professors at Hogwarts were this beautiful, he’d actually spend less time in detention.

The tot is grinning ear to ear and almost bouncing as you crouch down and gently take his hands off your skirt and into your own with a velveteen smile, “What did we say, hon? When we’re inside the classroom, we use our inside voices. Soft like a warm breeze, hmm?”

“But Miss Pretty, I’m not in the classroom yet!” Harry says cheekily as he points to his light-up sneakers standing toes away from the doorway. The boy goes running in towards the back of the room to go play with the building blocks and James has to bite his tongue when he watches you pinch your nose before taking your place at the desk in the front of the room.

“Well hello then, Miss Pretty,” he says with a smirk, throwing his blazer over the back of the thankfully adult chair and rolling his shirt sleeves up as he takes a seat. It’s quiet in the room besides the sound of Harry pretending to be Godzilla on a poor imaginary city in the background.

You stare at him a bit sideways, a beat of silence occupying the space between you, and then a snort escapes you—unladylike, but oh, what a woman. 

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

He blinks. Harry’s block towers crash to the ground and it sounds like James’ hopes of this going anywhere outside the classroom, a reverberating sound that drops with his heart falling to his ass, “Say what now?”

“Dear Godric, you’re still the same as back at school!” you scoff, leaning back in your chair and kicking your legs up on the desk (that he admittedly takes a peek at, but anyways); clearing his throat he’s so sure there must be some sort of misunderstanding—how could anyone overlook someone as stunning as you?

“I should’ve known, to be honest, when a mini-me of you walked in here on the first day, oh—the look on my face, I swear Lily’s gonna get a kick of this when she comes by next week, she was worried that you were coming in and not her anyways.”

The furrow in his brow is like a faultline right now, wondering how in the hell all of this has gone wrong in the last few minutes from the door, “Don’t bother with anything that woman says,” and then you’re laughing because, “Funny, from what I remember, you bothered her no matter what she said.”

And look how that turned out 7 years and a divorce later. 

Co-parenting with Lily Evans-McDonald is not for the weak, after all.

“Why am I even here?” James says exasperatedly, eyes flickering to the ceiling and then to his son who’s doing airplane arms as he kicks down his blocks. You cross your arms almost smugly, and he hopes you don’t take offense, which he clarifies by the frazzled look on his face and the hands he runs through his hair—”Your son called me stupid in class yesterday…”

Dear Merlin.

“And he said that his daddy was the one who told him to say it.”

A wheezing noise leaves his chest and he’s in disbelief, eyes whipping between you and his darling boy and the fact that he’s smack in the middle of looking an outright fool when it comes to this parenting all because of—

“You do know I didn’t mean it like that it’s just—”

You’re grinning as he loosens his tie in a panic, “We didn’t learn the alphabet like that back in our day?”

“I MEAN WHO CHANGES THE ALPHABET SONG? Truly!” James blubbers as he tries to cover his ass and somehow he’s the one who feels like he’s in trouble with the teacher. 

Perhaps he is, though this was not the original scene he had in mind walking in here. He takes a deep breath once you give him the same look you did Harry about his inside voice and—Godric you’re good at that—”And obviously…obviously I didn’t know you were his teacher.”

“Oh? Does that make a difference, Mr. Potter?”

You’re biting down on a perfectly plump bottom lip and his eyes are still wide and he can’t do anything but laugh.

“How asinine of me. You’re a Ravenclaw if I remember, right? Used to study with Moony all the time…” James mutters like he’s discovered something monumental and then he whispers your name, and it sounds as soft as you—something unearthed and new. He likes the way it sounds coming from his mouth and by the quirk of your lip, you do too. “How could I forget you?” 

The two of you chuckle like how children share a secret and it’s all too confusing for his bundle of joy that comes bounding past the seats and pushing off his father’s lap. 

“Oof—” James wheezes as he gets the wind knocked out of him, hunching over in pain, “Careful H, holy sh—” He swallows down the rest of his thought as you raise an eyebrow at his language, instead scooping Harry into your arms and sitting him on the edge of the desk.

“Anyways, I just wanted to let you know that at Harry’s age, his brain is like a sponge—there’s a lot for him to learn and he’s obviously a lot like his daddy, so Daddy’s going to have to be more conscious of what he has to say.” 

Oh the irony.

“Daddy will then, yeah?” he chokes out, restraining himself at the joyous look on his kid’s face when Harry says, “Miss Pretty, can you be Daddy’s teacher too?”

You pat the boy’s head and pinch a chubby cheek, “He’s got a lot to learn too, right Harry? Daddy was always in detention when we were little too.”

James is stirring in his seat and feeling hot under your gaze as he watches you interact with his son. He kind of regrets letting Lily take the reins with all of Harry’s parent-teacher meetings because clearly, he’s been missing out.

“Daddy was also Head Boy, but okay.” The two of you are giggling at the disgruntled look he gives your comment and James feels outnumbered, but not in a way that bothers him. If he’s being honest, he can understand why Harry was so intent on always getting his homework done right.

A while after, you all walk towards the door and Harry’s proudly walking out with a “Dinomite!” sticker on his forehead as James and you catch up on trivial things and then…

“DADDY! YOU RUINED THE DINNER!”

Harry’s pointing at the overturned table in the hall that he seems to have missed earlier and James cringes as he feels an imminent tantrum—if you call him a hurricane wait until he starts crying like a tornado siren. But you come to the rescue and bend over to shake his shoulders, “It’s okay Harry that just means you can make Daddy dinner again!” The little one is rubbing his eyes and whining a bit more softly and his father is looking at you like you’re an angel on Earth.

“That’s our cue to go,” he laughs, squeezing your arm and shaking his head, “Wish I could bring you hom—That’s not. That didn’t come out right,” he stutters, “I mean that you’re kind of a miracle worker and clearly doing better than how I fare sometimes with him. I think we’re too alike.”

“You’re doing great and he’s an amazing kid,” you reassure him, pulling out a sticker and pressing it onto his lapel. It’s of a triceratops and says “No one tops you!” He reads it and smirks, the famous James Potter smolder coming out to play and you roll your eyes. Harry is tugging at both your hands and when you look down at him, he’s hopeful and looking at you with determination he must’ve got from his mother.

“Since Daddy’s ruined dinner would you like to teach him now Miss Pretty? He’s got a lot to learn like you said.”

You’re at a loss for words, trying to stutter your way out of this one but James thinks it’s the best idea he’s ever heard.

After all, like father, like son.

“Think I could even go for extra credit if I’m allowed, Miss Pretty.”

[laylaplease]

Warnings — SEX POLLEN, dub-con, Master x Padawan, power imbalance, intoxication, abuse of authority, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of pain, brief nipple play, brief fingering, degrading if you squint, pet names, praise, swearing...

Word count — 3.3k

Notes — Thank you, Anon for the request! This is the first time I write a fic this length, I hope it's enjoyable! I truly hope I didn't miss any warnings; it's currently past 3am and my head is fried.

“You know this is completely unnecessary; you are overexaggerating…” Anakin complains as you wrap a thick linen rope around his wrists, securing your master in place. “I swear, I’m fine. Look,” He leans forward, putting his face on display. So close, you could feel his soft breath on the tip of your nose.

You inspect his eyes, deep blue eyes with slightly dilated pupils; if it were somebody else, they wouldn’t have seen a difference, but you… Oh, you were different. You knew his eyes a little bit too well for just a Padawan, and you were certain: something was wrong. You could sense his heart pumping blood through his veins a little bit too fast, his irregular breathing, you spotted things he failed to notice about himself. Maybe all those stolen glances at his undeniably gorgeous face and broad body will pay off, giving you something else than just fantasy material for all the lonely nights.

“No.” You reply bluntly. “I’m sorry, master.” You tie a last knot around his wrists. You wanted to explain; tell him all the things you sensed were different: the way his gaze twisted when landing on your body, the way he squirmed just slightly as you bind his limbs together, the way he… Smelled. It wasn’t just a regular Anakin scent, no. It was sweeter, almost milky, and it made you want to burry your face into his skin, so naturally, you could never reveal your reasoning.

Anakin sighed, leaning his back against the remains of your spaceship, his tied hands resting on top of his lap, hiding the slowly-forming tightness you both failed to notice. He could swear everything was perfect. Well, aside from the fact that you both were left stranded on an unknown planet and after hours of wandering in search of life and help, you ended up back at the crash site. 

“You realize I would never hurt you, right?” He stares at you, visible annoyance present on his features. “There is nothing wrong with me, I didn’t even touch anything unknown.”

He was right; he touched nothing. He… Inhaled it. And (un)fortunately neither of you knew.

“I know….” You look into his eyes pleadingly, trying to convince him to stay put in case he goes on some kind of rampage that your whole body senses is coming. You wanted to deny your gut feeling, but the gleam in his eyes told you it was a bad idea. 

Time passes slowly, and Anakin is growing more and more impatient as he watches your failing attempts to fix the transmitter and possibly reach someone. 

“Give me that.”

You stare at him from a short distance, thinking whether it’s smart to approach him, but your doubts are quickly wiped away when that sweet scent reaches the inside of your lungs with the help of a soft breeze. You stand up and bring him the broken device.

Anakin grabs your hand instead and pulls you down to your knees in front of him. Your face meets his with a surprised stare, and before you can complain about the invasion of your space, he speaks. 

“When I tell you to do something, you do it. Fast.” His stare is intense, and he holds your hand tightly in his restricted grip. “Got it?”

“Yes, M-master.” You stutter, stunned by his sudden change of demeanor; you can’t even move. And the worst part is that he smells even better this close.

“Good girl.” He keeps staring into your eyes, grasping your hand as if he doesn’t intend to let it go. “Maker, you are such a pretty thing, I could tear you apart…” He contemplates out loud, his words surprising the last part of his sane mind as he’s becoming more and more vulnerable to foreign planet’s drugs.

“What?”

He slowly frees your hand, swallowing a lump in his throat. He’s starting to feel it —  pants failing to hide a very prominent arousal, mouth watering at the sight of your cleavage, you look fucking scrumptious; and he needs to devour you. He snaps his head to the side.

“Sorry.” Anakin mutters, seemingly regaining some of his senses. He shifts on the ground as you stare at him dumbfounded, not only because of his sudden vulgarity but also because the outline of his dick was now very visible and your eyes couldn’t help but glance. 

“Master?”

He groans. “Don’t say that.” He shamelessly palms himself in front of your eyes as if he were in pain from how tight his underwear was. “Don’t call me master. Not now, sweetheart.” His voice softens just for a moment.

“Master, are you okay?” You deny his request. Involuntary. Maybe because it was a habit, or maybe because some part of you really wanted him to get unbearably hard for you.

He yanks you towards himself with his sluggish grip. Tied hands wrap around your throat, and he hisses. “I fucking mean it. You call me that again. I’m going to bend you over this wreck of a spaceship and bruise your insides until someone finally comes and gets us off this forsaken planet.”

If you weren’t surprised before, you are now absolutely bewildered. You pushed him away, landing on your butt and quickly crawling reversely to create some space between yourself and the animal that possessed your master’s body.

Anakin stood up and leaned himself against the wreckage as if trying to fight something that’s been trying to claw its way out of his body. His back turned to you, shoulders rising up and down repeatedly as he struggled to speak.

“Go. Now.” He groans, trying to hold his panting in.

“Anakin?” You rise yourself from the ground and take a step towards him, hesitating to move or speak more.

“Fucking RUN.” A growl slips from his throat; you’ve never heard such an animalistic sound coming from him. It wasn’t an order; it was a warning, a head start for you. And if there was a perfect time to listen to his advice about doing everything he’s telling you — that was it.

So you do.

You feel the wind blowing through your ears and burning your throat as you try to get away as far from Anakin as possible. Your pulse is thudding rapidly, your limbs are shaking, and yet your insides are throbbing, aching to have relief from the extreme arousal created by your master’s primal behavior and the image of his hardening cock imprinted in your head. 

You turn your head slightly, glancing behind you, expecting to see Anakin making his way towards you, but instead you are greeted with the sight of nobody. Anakin’s nowhere to be seen. You look around, panting heavily, trying to spot movement somewhere between the trees. You fear him and what he could do to you, but the fact that he’s gone frightens you even more. Your master could never hurt you, right?

“Master?!” Your voice echoes through what seems to be an empty grove of an unrecognized planet. The only sound you can hear is your own breathing, and you realize how loud it is, how easy it is for any predator to hear you. Anakin's hunt was simple when his prey served herself on the plate before him.

A gust of wind passed through your ears at the same moment as Anakin’s hands gripped you from behind and harshly pushed your quivering body against a tree nearby. His wrists bruised red from the rope, which he seems to have torn apart. Your vision blurs for a moment from the force he’s grabbed you with. His lips press on your ear.

“I told you not to call me that, you stupid girl. Now look what you’ve done.” He whispers into your ear as his bulge presses against your ass. 

“A-Anakin-” You whimper, miserably trying to push him off you but instead just creating more friction on his already painful core.

His hand snakes into your robes, grasping your breast roughly, making your back arch. It’s hot and desperate to tear your flesh apart. And it feels so so good. So pathetically good that you almost feel like you’re the one taking advantage of him and not the other way around. He toys with your nipple, rubbing it between his fingers as his free hand grabs onto your thigh and presses your body onto his clothed cock.

“S’ alright, sweetheart… Your body’s so perfect…” He sinks his teeth into your neck and pulls on your delicate skin. “I’m so sorry—fuck—Sweetheart… I can’t stop-” His soft voice was a complete contrast to his forceful grip on your curves. His hands boldly groped you, kneading every bit of your body he could reach — all while grinding himself against you like an animal in heat.

“No- You can’t,” You whimper, trying to fight him and your own desire. “Anakin!” You gasp in pain when he presses your body into the tree, bruising your cheek.

“Shhhh… ‘s alright, just let me—” He pulls your robes, his hand making its way down your stomach, cupping your dripping heat. He inhales into your neck. “Don’t be scared.” He shushes your whines.

And it’s not like you’ve never imagined Anakin fucking you; you have. Way more than you should have, and yet you were shaking in fear, especially knowing that he was under the influence of something wicked.

“No, master-” You gasp as he inserts a finger inside you, wasting no time before fucking you with his hand. “S-stop-”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-” He whimpers into your shoulder as your walls clenches around his digit. He slips another in. “What a perfect cunt… I’ll fucking ruin it." It was almost as if Anakin’s alter ego was overtaking his normal self — the one who would never dare to touch his Padawan like that, to taint her precious body with his pathetic touch.

“Ah!” Your back arched into him involuntarily. It was wrong. So so wrong and yet deep inside you never wanted him to stop, not when your walls spasmed around him for a sweet release. 

“That’s it, good girl, come here.” He pulls his fingers out, making you pulse and whimper at the lack of pleasure. He quickly lands you both on the ground, spreading your thighs apart for himself. “Look at that,” He bites his lower lip. “And you say you don’t want it? You’re fucking soaked.”

“We can’t-” You whimper yet again. “You wouldn’t- Ah!”

He grins as he slaps his cock against your clit, rubbing it up and down your entrance as the wet, slippery sound reaches your ears.

“I’m going to fuck you one way or another, so you just might as well enjoy it, after all…” He leans on top of you, lining the crown of his cock with your hole. “…master knows best.”

He slides in with one swift movement, filling you to the brim as you claw his back with your nails. He’s big, way bigger than his fingers, forcing your walls to stretch wide open to welcome both his length and girth. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust much when he pulls almost all the way out and slams back in, earning a loud whimper from you.

“Pretty girl…” He coos, stroking your cheek as he repeats the movement more urgently. “Master’s cock feels good, hm?”

It did, Maker; it felt amazing. Every vein bruised your gushing hole just right as he thrusted into you, long and powerful strokes, head hitting your cervix at the perfect angle to make your toes curl. Each time his sack slapped against your ass, an electric sting flashed through your cunt, forcing a pathetic moan out of your mouth. Your vision is so blurry from how hard you are rolling your eyes back, you don’t even see how Anakin comes forward and presses his lips onto yours.

His kiss is starving, depraved of you. He tries to say something, but it’s pretty incoherent, muffled by your saliva mixing with his. He tugs on your lips, sticking his tongue far up your mouth, smearing spit over your chin. His teeth clash against yours every time he attempts to reach into you deeper, as if trying to devour you from the inside out.

“Fuck,”—thrust—”So…”—thrust—”Fucking…”—thrust—-”Tight-” He moans into your mouth, and you swear you can feel his whimpers inside your body.

Anakin props himself up on his forearms — each on the other side of your face. He snakes his fingers into your hair, making you look at him.

“Look at me, baby. Look at me, and tell me you love it. Beg me to fuck you, come on, baby…” 

He’s a mess, and he’s messing you up too; he wants you to plead, but there is no reason to; he’s already balls deep in you, abusing parts of your body nothing and nobody has ever reached before. 

“M-master…” A feeble whimper is all your body can muster when your whole lower half twitches from pleasure. “…Stop...” You claw on his chest, trying to push him off, maybe because you know how sick it is to allow him to turn you into a drooling cockslut, or maybe because you don’t want to cum so fucking soon.

“What’s the matter, angel? You wanna cum, yeah?” A wicked smile spreads across his face, as if he were listening to all of your thoughts while you laid there spread open. “Yeah? Your little cunt can’t take master’s cock at all, hmmm?” He mocks you, and you know you deserve it, for one reason or another.

His filthy words and a couple of powerful strokes are enough to have your juices coating his whole shaft as your back arches and hardened nipples rub against his chest. The orgasm he’s giving you blinds your mind; it drowns out every other noise that’s not his moans of pleasure or your wetness spurting around him.

“Thought so.” He laughs in your face, gripping the backs of your thighs and pushing them up — his cock still inside you, soaking up all you had to give it. “That’s alright, angel, it’ll hurt less now that you’re all stretched out and drenched.”

“N-no…” You cry when he adjusts your position to reach deeper into you, seemingly not even caring that your soaked walls are still aching from him fucking you over the edge just moments ago. “A-Ani…” It’s a bittersweet pleasure — the way he keeps going through your body desperately, trying to push him out and stop the ache inside of you.

“Look,” He releases his grip on your thigh and grabs your chin. “Look how perfect your little cunt is…” He slides all the way out and slowly pushes back in, his pubic hair tickling your skin. “As if it’s made to take me.” He forces your head to look down between your bodies and admire the mess he’s creating.

The more he sees you struggle to look without squirming, the more precise his movements are. He angles his painfully thick cock to scratch your spongy insides, your throbbing cunt squeezing him enough to force delicious grunts out of his mouth. 

Your eyes are blurry from the tears you didn’t know formed; you blink rapidly, attempting to catch a glimpse of Anakin’s face. You were self-evident about the desperate mess he’s turned you into, drenched in sweat and cum, your body sore and bruised, it was obvious, however, you didn’t expect Anakin to be as disheveled as well. His lips were apart, soaked in spit, the blue of his eyes barely visible from the expansion of the pupils, dirty locks sticking to his forehead, your master looked and, quite obviously, behaved like a brute beast devouring his prey. And yet, he was angelic.

Your idealization of Anakin was the root reason why you resisted digging his eyes out with your nails and putting up a violent fight against him for corrupting your body inside and out. Because, essentially, Anakin is still your master. The one who teaches you, the one who tends your wounds, the one who is now currently fucking you over your second orgasm with no mercy in his bloodshot orbs. And honestly, you are starting to genuinely enjoy it. 

“Just like that, pretty girl, keep squeezing me…” Anakin presses his lips against yours, forcing his tongue in and making you answer his desperate kiss. One of your legs is stretched up painfully, foot dangling over his shoulder, while the other almost involuntary wraps around him and makes sure he’s plunging deep into you with no chance of escaping. “Good girl, that’s it,” He moans into your mouth, “I’m going to cum, yeah, s’ like that, let me fill that tight cunt.”

“P-please…” You reach for his head, grabbing him by the roots of his hair to lock your lips back together. “Master- fuuuuuck!” There it is again — you are cumming all over his cock, slurping onto his tongue while milking him to his own orgasm. You can barely see or make sense of your surroundings; all you know is that he’s pounding you into oblivion, and you love every second of being stretched out for your master to use.

Anakin is grabbing your body, toying with your flesh. Even when his dick starts to fuck long threads of his thick cum into you, he can’t stop frantically abusing your body in every way possible; grabbing, biting, kissing, and fucking all come at the same time, sending your body into a sensory overload, and you can swear you are about to lose your mind and die right there and then.

But there is no time for dying, not when you realize Anakin has emptied himself deep inside you and yet is nowhere close to stopping. His cock, still hard, surrounded by the mix of your and his cum, is slamming into you with sensual yet forcible strokes, making it seem like you can taste the sourness of his release in your mouth. 

“So needy, going to make sure to fuck it deep in you, angel.” He whispers into your neck, you can’t help but whimper and dig your nails into his shoulder blades in hopes of him easing up on you, but he only pulls his face off your shoulder and greets you with a filthy grin. “If I knew how beautiful your fucked-out expressions and little whimpers were, I would have devoured this pretty pussy much earlier…”

“M-master…” You cry out for help, for pleasure, for him. Everything ceases to exist except Anakin. His expression softens just for a moment. He settles his cock inside of you and reaches out to wipe the mess of drool and tears from your cheek.

“It’s okay, my sweet Padawan." He whispers, his hands gently caresses your hipbones in a subconscious attempt to soothe your aching muscles. Anakin leans down to kiss your lips one more time. You can feel his whole length throbbing and begging for friction while the wetness of your releases seeps down your cunt. “I know you can take more, yeah? Just like when we train, alright? You want to stop…”—Thrust—”But I’m the Master…”

Your eyes roll back when your sex is rewarded with a glimpse of more pleasure, a little promise of what he can give you if you just enjoy it like he’s commanded you. So you buck your hips into him, seeking yet another release.

“There she is…” Anakin’s deranged expression makes its way back between his perfect features. To your surprise, he swiftly pulls himself out of you, which makes you whine from the lack of fullness and feeling of the mix of liquids trickling down your body. “Let’s see how useful your other holes are, mmm?”

And with that, you know — whatever he’s infested with still has yet to wear off.

[laswells-ashtray]

I personally really like the idea of the Shadows being kinda like Phillip's lil family. So...

On an op before 141, the fucker gets injured pulling a Shadow away from a rotting patch of wooden floor while sweeping an old church. He lands himself a fractured ankle, splinters quite literally up the ass, and bruising like a bitch after falling through the floor himself.

So nothing too bad.

He comes off the comes off the painkillers to a hoard of puppy-eyed men in various stages of uniform dress.

Blah blah blah fluff happens

His ass hurts. It shouldn't be his first thought but his ass hurts. The same way it did when he took a drunken tumble down a flight of stairs as a teenager and bruised half of his damn body. He knows that after that shitshow of a job [that they'd been paid an abysmally low amount for given the conditions] he had showered, changed into sweatpants, taken some good quality fucking painkillers and he conked out on the closest surface.

Which he now realises is the old ass couch they all collectively refuse to get rid of despite its various stains and the knife stuck in one of its legs. He blinks before rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. There are at least five Shadows around him, maybe six. They might be multiplying.

Oz catches his eye and he looks far too amused for someone that still owes him ten dollars and a Costco hotdog, but he'll bring up that bet later.

"Feeling alright, commander?"

He stares back at the man with an unamused look, pushing himself up into a sitting position. He was being watched like he was holding a bag of fries and he'd just stepped into pigeon territory.

"Fuck are you starin' for? Oz, if there's a dick on my face-"

"There isn't, couldn't take one of the kids into doing it. Just wondering if you're hungry because you took those painkillers on an empty stomach then passed out half-dead."

Damn right, none of the younger Shadows would draw a dick on his face. They were too scared to, Oz? Not so much but he was stuck with the shithead at this point.

"Could go something. Mind telling me why you've got a small army of Shadows present for this conversation?"

"Well, Petrillo was here to look at your ankle while you were too unconscious to notice. Garfield is here to try and talk you into buying Chick-fil-A with company money. And-"

"My name isn't Garfield-"

"You hate Mondays. Anyway, and the kids are here because they've never seen you land on your ass like that before and wanted to check how you're doing but they're too scared to ask for themselves."

That checks. He looks around at the three younger Shadows who have all now decided to stop staring at him and instead at the floor.

"Christ, I'm fine. If you can't take a fall like that then you can't do the fucking job. And I'll pay for the Chick-fil-A but I ain't going to get it, drag your lazy ass to do it."

Only then does he notice the fact that there's a bag of frozen peas under his ankle.

[cherryredstars]

hi!! i love ur work! would it be possible for you do one with miguel where he kidnaps you into the spider society during a mission, and as your kidnapped the other spiders leave and you and miguel get close as his visits every day with your food and listens until you end up falling for each other and screw but you’re still chained up so it’s kinda like bondage and he finds it really. really. hot. ?

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x gn!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Kidnapped Reader, Stockholm Syndrome, Bondage, Penetrative Sex

Summary: He'll take care of you, promise.

A/N: Thank you, love! Enjoy!

It gets easier to do with each passing day, to forget.

He makes it easy to forget. Or to forget as much as you can while being tied up in a once desolate room. A room that is starting to become your own, not just a place for you to be kept. A place that now has things you can call yours, filled with things that he's brought you as gifts. Sure, your wrists are in an infinite state of aching from being tied up. But at least now it's rope and not the heavy chains from a month or two ago. At least now you get your choice of dessert when he visits you with your meals. And you've grown quite fond of the sun lamp he gave you after you mentioned how much you've missed feeling the sun on your skin.

You even find yourself perking up in moments like now, when you can hear the steady locks of the door clicking open instead of tugging at your bindings in fear. His large frame now makes your stomach twist with butterflies, not with horror. You lean towards him now, not away. When he looks into your eyes, he sees nothing but love and admiration. Any hint of fear and disgust is gone and done with. It makes his heart race, seeing the bright blush on your face as you shyly greet him.

"Hi, baby," He whispers, approaching you and taking your cheek into his large hand.

You nuzzle into it like a small kitten, lashes fluttering as you look up at him. His lips brush over your forehead, basking in the delighted sigh you let out in response. You can feel his smile against your skin, matching your own as he pulls away. Your eyes stray to the greasy bag in his other hand, your eyes widening in delight as you see the familiar fast food bag. You must have been very good this week for him to get you this special treat, it's very rare for him to leave base just to retrieve you food when he could just get whatever is left at the headquarter's food court.

He sits on the bed next to you, chuckling at your simple joy over a bag of shitty fast food. He simply doesn't understand though, seeing things like this makes you feel connected to the outside world. You happily open your mouth as Miguel feeds you some salty fries, his eyes focused on the way your tongue swipes over your lips to gather up the extra salt and drops of the milkshake he got you. He suddenly feels hungry. Really hungry.

You can sense the mood shift in the air, your chewing slowing down. The senses that have dulled over time now go haywire, something in your brain telling you to run. But you can't not with your hands tied up. Instead you give him a weary smile, your head leaning back slightly as you whisper out a 'what?' Your body locks up slightly when he moves to hover over you, forcing you to look up at his face. Your eyes study him intensely, your muscles freezing when you see his hand reaching up in your peripheral vision.

You swallow as his hand grasps your chin, his thumb stroking your lip. His eyes are dark and lidded as he follows the movement of his finger, tugging your lip down slightly and watching it bounce back into place.

"You're so... small. Y'know that?"

There is something about the way that he says it that makes your skin breakout in goosebumps. You can feel each bump prickling from your skin, causing shivers to wreck down your spine. Hesitantly, you nod. You're not sure what he's imply with that statement, but you can only hope it isn't anything... disturbing. You can only hope "small" doesn't mean "easy to break".

Miguel's thumb leaves your lip alone, instead trailing his fingers down the expanse of your neck until they're pressing against your collarbones.

"But that's okay," he continues. "I can make it fit."

Your brows furrow, eyes snapping down as you feel his other hand tugging at your underwear. Your mouth opens, maybe in protest maybe in surprise, only for Miguel to slant his mouth over yours. You squeak in surprise, eyes locking with his as his tongue forces its way inside of your mouth. He doesn't waste time exploring your mouth, humming at the left over taste of salt and vanilla. Your hands tug at your restraints slightly in surprise, your helpless whimper being swallowed by Miguel.

You can feel his fingers brushing against your sex, your eyes widening. His eyes studies every shift in your facial expression, the intensity almost frightening. When he pulls away from your mouth, your panting and gasping in air greedily, your lips connected to his with a line of spit that he licks up. Your lips feel bruised, but you have no time to dwell on it when two of his fingers press against your hole. It causes you to gasp sharply, your hips jolting in an attempt to escape. Miguel only chuckles, leaning forward as a glob of spit leaves his mouth and lands over your hole. You whine in discomfort as he massages it into your skin, lubricating your tiny hole.

Your breaths are shaky as you watch him, excitement and caution battling your nerves. You almost stop breathing all together when his suit falls away to reveal his weeping cock. His tip is red and pulsating, twitching with the need to be shoved somewhere warm and tight. To have something stretch and swallow him whole.

Your legs try to kick you higher up the bed when he presses his tip against your hole, smearing his dripping precum. It proves useless as he slowly sinks into you, groaning at the warmth that molds to the shape of his cock. You mewl at the stretch, months gone by without being so full. Miguel moans in approval as you squirm on his dick, his tip pressing against your walls until it hits that gummy spot inside of you. He pulls his hips back before ramming them back into you, making you wrap your hands around the ropes keeping you in place as your eyes roll back.

You feel so sensitive from how long it's been, and you can feel that fiery hot feeling building up in your stomach as Miguel pounds into you. Your thighs tremble with the force, and your mouth drops open at the pleasure ramming through your body. You can feel every thrust he gives you, and soon enough your body locks as you choke on a gasp. You can vaguely make out Miguel's groan as you convulse on his cock as you come. His hand comes up to your neck to keep you in place once you start thrashing to much, a sinister smile overcoming his face.

"Shh, I'll take care of you. Promise."

[ventique18]

If you've seen Crowley's vignette, it's SO SUS.

1. Malleus has a big part for some reason. Crowley gets struck by his lightning just like how Meleanor fries her soldiers when they anger her. Levan was not only Meleanor's husband but also her general, so he probably also got struck by her a dozen or more times before.

2. Crowley emphasizes how important it is to carefully study magic. Levan is said to be a really bookish mage.

3. He has a massive appetite. Malleus is also portrayed this way.

4. Crowley is confirmed to be strong as even his basic magic is incredibly potent, but he's very low-key with his magic and prefers to talk things out instead. Levan's biggest thing in the plot is that he was a diplomat who went to enemy borders to talk things out instead of resorting to violence.

5. He gets taken aback and contemplates how time passes without him noticing. This, as we know, is also a major trait of Malleus.

🤔🤔🤔🤔

[lichenes]

just you and joost having a lazy night in and all you want to do is be close to each other, you sitting on his lap on the couch and just making out while he softly tells you he loves you🥹

love that idea anon <3 thank you for the ask lovely!! I'm fueled up on taurine rn tbh hope the work is coherent lmao :'D

CW: hickeys, making out, kissin, lap sitting

wc: 483

•───────•°•❀•°•───────••────────•°•❀•°•────────•

Today, Friday, was hard. You both came back home, Joost spent all day recording in the studio, his throat hoarse from singing. Your day was just as exhausting so when you got home and saw him napping on the sofa, snoring softly, you didn’t think twice and laid down and curled up to him. He stirred up from his sleep “Oh… hi.” He said, his voiced still laced with the weight of the day and sleep. “Mmmm, hi baby.” You said softly. 

“How was your day?” “Long… so long.” “...” “Yours?” “Same…” 

You fell into a comfortable silence which wasn’t unusual between you as you understood each other without words. You got more and more sleepy with every passing second. “I need a nap.” You said in a small voice. He didn’t respond, putting his hand on your stomach and pulling you closer. 

You fell back into consciousness around 2am. Joost was lazily stroking your cheek, appreciating your features. “Didn’t mean to wake you.” You sighed contently. “Don’t worry about it.” You sat up and rubbed sleep away from your eyes. The weariness lessened after the nap and it seemed as did his. “You’ve got anything to do tomorrow?” He asked and you shook your head. 

Joost suggested putting on a movie, quietly not to wake up the neighbours. “‘course baby.” You sat in his lap facing the screen of your TV. Your head was on his chest, you could feel his rhythmically rising and falling chest which was calming you down. “Turn around.” He said and you did. 

You were now face to face with him, both flushed with the sleep that hasn’t quite left your mind. He leaned closer to you and pressed his soft lips to yours. You both groaned at the expected touch. “You’re so pretty…” He said in between kisses. “The loveliest…” kiss, “prettiest…” kiss, “most intelligent.”. You were melting into his touch, sleep and titillation fighting for dominance. "I love you."

Your stomach rumbled. He chuckled. “You hungry?” You nodded, not feeling like speaking right now. “I’ll make you something.” You stood up and followed him to the kitchen as if to say ‘I’ll help.’ He was looking through the cupboards and settled on a pack of frozen french fries. “‘s that okay?” You said ‘yes’. He put them into the oven for a while and plated them, salting them thereafter.

You walked back into the living room with the plate and began eating, burning yourself on the first few ones. He snacked on them from time to time, still not quite perceiving the movie, focusing on you instead, opting instead to knead your hips lovingly. You finished the fries and put the plate on the coffee table, left to be washed in the morning. 

Joost was kissing your neck, lazily sucking your skin to form hickeys you would later proudly show off to your friends. 

You couldn’t be more happier.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────••────────•°•❀•°•────────•

masterlist

[hitoshitoshi]

Teacher!Caleb would be an elementary teacher if he wasn't a pilot. He's just so patient with the kids, but he's also stern when he needs to be. Teacher!Caleb would teach kids in a way where they could all have fun so that way, they associate learning with fun, and not feel bored while learning. He would make it a competition for who can learn vocabulary the quickest, and have small prizes for them to enjoy.

Teacher!Caleb would make sure to learn each of the kid's likes and dislikes and incorporating it into the examples that he uses so it feels more personalized. "Mhm, you're right on track there, you have a team of 6 Pokemon, and 4 faints, how many Pokemon do you have on your team? [...] That's right, you have 2 Pokemon on your team! You're so smart. How about if you have 3 Pokemon, and you want to double your team—"

Teacher!Caleb would make sure that during lunch time, no kid would go hungry, so he always had a cabinet of snacks, filled with yummy but also nutritious things for them to eat. He was a kid once too, so he knew how much kids wouldn't eat something if he knew that they didn't like the taste of something, regardless of how hungry they were. Whenever a kid runs up to him with their little legs, he already knows the protocol and pulls out his drawer. "Pick any of 'em you want that you want to eat. The whole world — well, drawer — is yours to choose from."

Teacher!Caleb would make sure that no one gets left out and made fun of. He himself, was an empathetic indivudual, and if he was witnessing any bullying, he was going to stop it right then and there. No one gets put down in when he's around, much less in his classroom. Fun Teacher!Caleb was gone the second that there was disrespect going on. He would pull the kid to the side, and make them understand what empathy was, and how the kid wouldn't like it if someone was mean to the kid, so the kid shouldn't be mean to others. He would make sure the kid apologizes to whoever they were mean to — a proper apology: a sorry, the specifics of what they did and why they're sorry, and what they were going to do to change. Teacher!Caleb wasn't going to let these kids grow up to be people who didn't ever apologize or take accountability for their own actions. He took his job very seriously. Teacher!Caleb would make sure that no kids would associate any bad marks or failure with bad connotations. He knew how some kids depended on academic validation, or was stressing because of their parents, so he makes sure to change that mindset so it wouldn't become worse later on. "No, no, no, don't call yourself a failure for not passing a test. Think about it this way, you know what you got wrong and you know what type of studying doesn't work out for you. Instead of focusing on that, think about what you can do for the re-test. You know what you don't know, what you do know, and what form of studying doesn't work for you! That's called "failing forward". Always, move forward and don't stay in the past." Teacher!Caleb would be the type to use his own money to have end-of-the-year parties. It wouldn't be just pizza, but other food too! Pizza, fries, wings, cake, and more. He wanted the kids to celebrate and have a good time before ending the school year — to relax and hang out with eachother one last time before summer vacation started, where some of the kids would be separated from other kids when they move up a grade. He would play fun music and pull out pictures of his partner (you) and show you off to the kids. "Ahahah, yeah! This is my partner, aren't they super cool? I love them to bits and pieces. They're actually my childhood best friend—" Teacher!Caleb would want to make a difference; to actually help kids grow up. He wasn't just a teacher that taught kids schoolwork, he wanted to teach them the foundations of life through different ways of seeing things and learning. He wanted to be that teacher that made others excited to learn. He wanted to be that teacher that people can rely on. He wanted to be that teacher that helped change and guide people's lives in a positive way. He wanted to be that teacher that helped people discover things about themselves. He wanted to be that teacher that helped people to learn to love and respect other people and themselves. He wanted to be the teacher that he never got growing up. He wanted to be that teacher for others.

Masterlist

[aradassbadass]

cellular sentiment| ceedee lamb

in which you and ceedee have been friends for a while but you only talk on the phone but he surprises you after his game.

you jolted awake as you felt the vibrations on your face.

“huh?” you say eyes still shut.

“damn what took you so long to answer i called you thirty eleven times.” the voice on the other side made you smile.

“hush cedarian, i was sleep.” you mumble turning over eyes still closed.

“thats all you do is sleep.” he says and you roll your eyes- or try to at least.

“what do you want man, why you call me this late?” you ask trying to sound annoyed.

he just laughs, “its 6 oclock in the evening almost 7, aint shit late about it, and i thought you said you was gone watch our game today just lies.” he says teasingly.

“hush yall ass. probably lost anyways, you know you sorry.” you laugh.

“shii, i dont know who you talking to but im far from sorry.” he sasses back. you cant help but laugh. “nah, but forreal though i was just trying to see what you had planned tonight.”

you finally open your eyes and the light from him dimly illuminates your face and he glances down.

“you so beautiful.” he smiles and you blush immediately dropping the phone.

“oh my God please stop.”

“im forreal- you know i always tell you that.”he says and you roll your eyes blushing even harder.

“thank you but anyways im not finna do nothing hell i may get up and cook but then its right back in bed for me- i got work tomorrow. i already got my gown on and everything.”

“which one? better be the one i got you.” he says.

“and is, what should i cook? steak and potatoes or shrimp fried rice?” you ask getting up and going to the kitchen.

it felt good, natural even. it had become a little routine that you both felt comfortable in. he would call youd answer, yall would chat about anything-everything under the sun and inevitably your fall asleep on him but he would never hang up.

how you managed to become friends was purely some twisted sort of luck if you could even call it that. after your mom passed he was the one that got her number and when the messages started sending in blue instead of green you werent quick to notice, so when you had a particularly shitty day and texted her number

‘mama, i wish you were here. i need you now more than ever.’

and received a message reading

‘im sorry but i think you have the wrong number. it will be okay though’

you almost broke down. luckily he was nice enough and allowed you to vent and the rest was history. a friendship blossomed even though it was only cellular.

“if you dont prop me up so i can see.” he griped.

“omg youre so needy.” you sigh propping him-the phone- up.

he laughs, “whatever hmmm i think shrimp.”

“hmmm i think not.” you say grabbing the steak.

“bro what the hell, why you even ask then.” he says smacking his lips.

“cause i can.” you say and you just know he’s rolling his eyes.

“if you say so, but ima hit you back, this my momma calling me.”

“ok be safe.”

“i will, talk to you later.” and the phone clicks.

you hum as you begin to season the two sirloins, quickly reaching over to turn on the stove.

its crazy how life works. your just a history teacher at a small high school in your area and one of your best friends is the biggest player in your state.

“who would have thought”you mumble to yourself thinking ahout when you finally realized who he was.

one of your students had worn a jersey with his last name on it and you found it a bit peculiar, so you texted him.

‘u have a cousin or something in the nfl? one of these my kids got on a jersey w yo last name’

‘😂is u being fr rn’

‘wym?’

‘omg you is lmaooooooo 😭😩 go ask him who jersey he got on’

‘wtf js tell me’

and he left you on read

you put your phone down and huffed.

“hey garret, who’s jersey do you have on?”

“ceedee lamb, excuse my language miss but he cold as hell.” and as soon as the name came out of his mouth your stomach dropped.

“o-oh ok. it-its nice.” you barely stammer out before picking up your phone.

‘YOU PLAY FUCKIN FOOTBALL WTF’

‘😭😭😭😭😂’

‘omfggg ts crazyyyy& u aint tell nb shi’

needless to say he got an earful that night when you two did finally get on the phone.

you flip the steaks over on the cast iron skillet allowing it to sear then place the potatoes on a baking sheet and toss them in the oven.

you grab your phone and go to see where cee is, but you notice his location is off.

‘where tf u at & why that damn lo off?’

he immediately reads it but you see no text bubble.

‘wowwww read ight bet.’

then you throw down your phone and almost instantly its a light knock on your door.

confusion washes over you as you furrow your brows together.

“who is it ?” you call getting on your tip toes to see out of the peephole but its just dark.

you sigh and unlock the door opening it only enough to peek out and low and behold its cedarian with a big goofy smile on his face and a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

this is ch1 of a fic im gonna be posting on wattpad lmk what yall think. i love ceedee he is so cute omf i just have all the feels.