#but holy shit I can’t get his devastated face out of my head

[skyedancer2006]

OH MY GOD WE JUST READ THE NEW DBS TBHK UPDATE

HOLY SHIT

HOLY SHIT

[hazbinshusk]

a kiss in parting w blitz please i need the angst lmao😭

prompt #28: a kiss in parting.

You arch up against Blitzø with a throaty moan as he thrusts hard into you, his slow, steady pace offset by the way devasting way he bottoms out with every press of his hips. His teeth graze the soft flesh of your neck, his breath leaving him in a soft growl.

It hurts in the best way, the way he’s stretching you with every slide of his cock into you. The way his claws dig into your hips. The way he moves his mouth to yours and his teeth catch your bottom lip as he moans into your kiss. You tighten around him, wrapping your legs around his waist, and his breath catches. “Jesus. Fuck…”

“Right there,” you whine as he angles his hips in the way that makes your eyes roll back. “Fuck, right there, Blitz, right there, right… fucking there…”

He rolls his fingers over your clit and you cum hard, nails digging into his shoulders. Blitzø groans, curses, and moans your name as he follows you over the precipice, spilling himself into your warmth. “Satan’s… fuck!”

Blitzø keeps pumping his hips into yours disjointedly until you’re pushing him away, your thighs shaking from the stimulation. He taps your clit with his tail teasingly, and you smack him in the arm. He rolls off of you with a laugh.

“Holy shit.”

“Damn fuckin’ right,” he replies cockily, tucking his hands behind his head.

“Oh, shut up.” He laughs again, the tip of his tail drawing slowly up your thigh. It makes you jump, and you swat his tail away, rolling onto your stomach and taking his face in your hands. You kiss him, letting him relax into it for a few moments before you reach down to scratch your nails over his hipbone. He jerks away from you with what could almost be a whimper as you find that sensitive spot that always seems to rile him up. This soon after an orgasm is basically torture. “Serves you right.”

“Fuckin’ dick.”

“I just finished doing that, actually.”

Blitzø scoffs, the sound devolving into a laugh. Then, he sighs, stretching his arms out above him before he sits up and swings his legs out over the side of the mattress. You sit up slightly, raising an eyebrow curiously.

“Are you leaving?”

He nods, tugging a shirt on over his head and scanning the carpet for his briefs. “Full moon tonight – got that appointment with his Royal Horniness for a grand-slam smack-down of sex.”

You wrinkle you nose at the description, trying to ignore the weight his words set into your stomach. “That’s still happening?”

Blitzø shrugs a shoulder. “Still need the book if I.M.P. is gonna keep bringing in bank.”

“Right.”

He stands, pulling his underwear up his thighs and snapping the waistband into place. Even as your mood drops, you can’t help the small smirk that touches your lips at the silhouettes of galloping horses printed across the fabric. “And you just knooooow Birdy is probably already gagging over the thought of getting to split himself open on—”

“Oooookay,” you cut him off, rolling your eyes as you sit up. You tug the blankets up against your chest, swallowing back the distaste you suddenly feel. “I get it.”

Blitzø snickers, fastening his belt.

“Just… promise me you’re gonna shower before you go over there.”

He turns to face you, shooting you a wink. “’Course. I’m a classy bitch, tits. Besides, I’ve gotta swing by home and check on my Loonie-Toonie anyway.”

“Mm-hm.” You toy with the sheets with unsteady fingers.

Blitzø shrugs his jacket into place, tail whipping gently back and forth. He lets his eyes fall down over your body for a moment before meeting your eye again with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “I text ya later for a round two, alright?”

You nod, offering him a weak smile. “Sure. If the Prince doesn’t wear you out.”

The imp snickers, leaning across the bed to smack a quick kiss against your lips. “Oh please, y’know it takes more than a few ball-drainin’ fucks to stop me from bangin’ your silly little brains out.”

You press your lips together tightly as he turns to leave, and you lay down again, rolling onto your side so you can avoid watching him walk through the door.

send me a prompt and either husk or blitzø

[milkbreadandtadpoles]

soup!sukuna

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snippet: 2k depicting the first time reader and soup!au sukuna hookup. he's less than nice, but you're into that. modern au!! idk if it's college or whatnot, u decide (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ reader is neutral, described as having a vagina

warnings: pnv ladies and germs, rough sex ig! slapping and spanking and some degradation if you squint. sukuna being a total ass and reader playing him like a fiddle and making him question his stamina. not edited yet cuz im on that "im so proud" high

author's note shiiii: oh hello, it's me again. i am ill (i have been ill for a week), and i guess suku the gr8 has gotten to me. so pls enjoy how i think he is in my little brain. all characters are over the age of 18, and if you are reading this and are not, silently show yourself the door <3

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚⋆˚🐾˖°⋆｡°🎧•‧.₊˚🐰‎₊˚⋆⭒｡⋆୨୧˚˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚⋆˚🐾˖°⋆｡°🎧•‧.₊˚🐰‎₊˚⋆⭒｡⋆୨୧˚

There’s a harsh smack on your ass as you crawl across the bed. It has you stumble and squeak; a helping hand forcing you to arch, lay and stay against your mattress. Another high pitched noise has Sukuna chuckling above you, palming the growing erection with his other hand. You turn around and gulp. 

Sometimes boys don’t lie. 

“You’re so hot.” He says quietly, baritone in his tone still noticeable. You laugh, and his brows knit- the fuck are you laughing about? 

There’s a push in you, forcing your spin to dip gracefully, deviously and deliciously. You sprawl your arms in front of you, fingers rubbing against one of your blankets. He’s admiring you, you can feel it. Those deep, savory eyes, colored like a cherry wine underneath the yellow ambience of your lamp, graze over the lace outline of your cotton panties. 

“Thanks.” You hum, biting your bottom lip saturated with gloss and balm. No need to compliment him back, he knows he’s devastating. 

He reaches out to grope and smack each of your cheeks haphazardly. You purr; his hand covers so much of you. There’s a lopsided smirk on his face, it’s apparent as he yanks the material off. Lazily, you crawl out of them, since boys can’t be bothered to take them off further than the back of your knees, and reposition yourself. 

Large, gruff hands degrade you- one of them molding against the entirety of your skull to press half of your face into the bed, the other rubbing his spit onto his dick and getting ready to align himself with the opening of your pussy. 

Boys. 

“You gotta finger me first.” 

Sukuna’s upper lip curls, looking at you like you’re all work. The feeling doesn’t fade when you openly roll your eyes. Don’t you get it, girl? You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last. So just lay there and- 

“I texted you about it. I’ll literally tear,” You add. 

“Alright.” He bites, unwrapping his fingers from around the base of his cock and nudging one of the digits against your slit. And holy shit you’re tight. Sensitive. Those eyes catch the slightest curl in your toes, the purse of your lips and furrow of your brows as you feel him out. 

And shit, he kinda wants to see your face strewn up. 

Sukuna nudges his middle finger between your legs, lips parting in realizing how tight you actually are. You were right. 

if we hookup you gotta be gentle first, im tight 

and not in the cool way

You hum lightly in satisfaction, something he never though the enjoyed hearing, letting a sharp gasp emit from your lungs as he selfishly adds his index. Thighs shut, Sukuna has to remove his grip from your head to inch them back apart to watch your pussy clench and flutter around a percentage of him. 

“Slower.” Sukuna raises his brows at your demanding attitude- he’ll have to fuck that out of you later, but relents regardless, carefully twisting two joined fingers in and out of your walls that are already squelching and wet. 

What bitchy comment you made pays off immediately, the sound of a saccharine sweet moan he pulls from you making his dick twitch. There’s a pellet of want in his sternum, something he hasn’t felt since he was a teenager who groped a pair of tits in the locker room for the first time. 

After a few minutes of dragging sweet sounds from you, he experimentally pulls his fingers out, more than pleased to see your eyes open and peer at him with indignation. You huff, rubbing your socked feet together in silent anticipation. 

You open your mouth to protest, only to cut yourself off with a high pitched whine as he urges three of his fingers, much bigger than any other boy you’ve had (but you won’t tell him that) back between your pussy. Preening against his touch, you move your hips back to meet at his knuckles. 

Sukuna laughs once, and again when you clench around his fingers at his amusement. 

“Oh.” Is what you say, all watery and whiny when he thrusts one, two, three, four times in rapid movements. It catches you off guard, and you squirm. Your fingers grapple at your sheets, face twisting to hide from his penetrating gaze. He’s enamored with your face, the way it pinches in delight. 

“Are you gonna cum?” 

You laugh amidst a pleasured whimper. 

“No- you can fuck me now.” 

Whatever face he made, you choose not to see.

He grunts, laying a smack against your pussy and kneading the fat of your hips while he aligns his. Slowly, just like your bratty, bossy ass said, he eases the tip of his cock between your plush thighs, your hot, tight walls. You pinch your face, focusing on being relaxed, letting out a garbled whimper as he sinks himself to the hilt. 

The notion of him pulling out (before slamming back in, as all men do too quickly), has you reaching a hand out and nudging at his stomach to stop him. 

“Slow.” You reprimand. 

“Shut the fuck up.” He thinks he's gonna cum.

Sukuna graces you by easing in and out twice, dragging out a soft, sweet hum from you before he rolls his hips in a dangerously fast notion. He likes it when you squeal in surprise. Maybe if you’re not as bossy the rest of the time, he’ll look you in the eye and speak to you casually the next time you're at the basketball court with Uraume.

The tip, all angry and red just like him, pushes against your cervix. You get to squirm for a quick second before both of his hands grab at your hips to push you down, to shut you up, to keep you still. A small, uncomfortable giggle bubbles in your throat, peering at him out of the corner of your eyes. 

How your eyes are slit, the way you’re expression is lidded and enchanted, has Sukuna grunting and thrusting against you harshly. Your lips, all glossy and annoyingly cute, curl into a satiated smile, parting a mere second after as he pulls out all the way just to bully himself back in. 

You sink into the bed, back arched to practiced perfection. 

“That’s right,” He breathes, fucking into you at a pace that forces your jaw slaw, “There you go.” 

Your lashes flutter at his words go straight to your gut, hearing the petulant smack of him against your clit, the plush of your thighs. He inches closer, and you gasp as he knees you further apart and forces himself even deeper. 

Thumbs nudge at the dimples in your back, pressing against them as he forces your hips to fuck against him. The fat of your ass squishes against his lower abdomen, and you swear he’s so thick you can feel the outline of one of his veins in your walls. 

“Shit.” You cry, pushing yourself upright to stay steady against the forceful thrusts that threaten to knock your head into the metal bed frame. Sukuna shakes his head, moving his hands and leaning over to push you back down. 

Breath leaves you, and you whimper when you feel his hands against your cheek, the back of your head, shoving your face into the sheets again. 

“Sorry.” The whisper in your voice as you hiccup a moan that has Sukuna shaking his head once more in disbelief because he’s about to bust. He pulls out, forcing himself to fucking not, taking one of his hands (don’t worry, you’re still coerced down with the other) to give you an angry smack on your ass. 

You’ve never heard a man growl like he just did. And well, you’ve been around the block. It’s strained and jarring and fucking hot, the way Sukuna does it in warning. 

A minute later and he’s shoving himself back into you with no warning, making sure you stay right here as he pinches the chunk of flesh on your cheek. His palm is flat, forcing your lips into a dirty pout that muffles any noise that bubbles between them. 

“Mhm,” He murmurs, impressed that he didn’t cum right then and there when he caught sight of your watery eyes looking so pornographic, “Keep your mouth fucking shut.” 

Sukuna’s good, you’ll give him that. So you try, only to be obscured and mushed into a babbling mess the longer he fucks into you. It’s overwhelming, the way his cock stretches you out. Your walls flutter with relief each time he teases you as he pulls all the way out, only to be devastatingly, pleasurable split open with the harsh, nipped roll of his hips. 

There’s a slap to your cheek. And you hum. 

“Oh,” He goads, “You like that.” 

You’re nodding, and he’s flipping you over, yanking you and pushing right back into you. It makes your head swim as he grabs your face between his finger, squishing it and molding it like clay. Your lips pucker like a little, helpless fish, wondering for a split second if he’ll kiss you. 

He doesn’t. You don’t mind. It feels better than a kiss when he releases your face only to reel his hand back and slap you so hard across the face your ears begin to ring. 

Sukuna likes that dumb look on your face, gripping the dips of your waist so he can fuck himself harder into you. The gasps and wiggles, the way your small, manicured fingers wrap around his biceps has the sharpness of his cheekbones flushing with color. It brings a brief look of annoyance to his face, because he’s on the verge of cumming again. 

Your nails dig into the muscles of his upper arms, lips parted and face pinched in that sweet expression as you gaze at him with a disbelieving look at how deep he’s hitting. 

“It’s too much, let me flip over-“ The begging falls of deaf ears, a large hand decorated in thick ink wrapping around your throat to finally fucking quiet you. Sukuna doesn’t let you worm away, pushing you into the bed to keep you right where you belong so he can pummel you to his own orgasm. 

That look on your face- blissfully fucked out and controlled, face warm, it’s too much for Sukuna’s stamina. He pulls out, hissing under his breath as he busts all over your stomach. It squirts across your smooth skin; part of him wants to smear it and rub it in.  

And you laugh. Breathy and choked, reaching up and wiping your eyes from the tears of being choked a millisecond from passing out. Sukuna unwraps his hand from your throat, giving you a supportive, congratulative pat on your cheek. 

“Why are you fucking laughing?” You're weird and cocky.

You wave him off, turning and pulling open a drawer in your bedside table. Rummaging, you pull out a package of wet wipes, opening it for the two of you as you clean yourself off and toss it in the trashcan by your bed. And shit, to Sukuna, you look more well prepared than him. 

He takes one and cleans himself off. You pull up your panties and yank over a shirt large enough to come to your knees. The braids in your hair are frizzy, your bottom lip wet and chewed from your own vacillation. 

A satisfied smile smears across your face as you re-balm your lips, Sukuna eyeing your incurious face as he yanks on his boxers and joggers. You lay flat on the bed, giving yourself a minute to bask in the recently-fucked high. 

“Thanks.” You murmur to him as he pulls on a white shirt. Black ink teases through the sheen fabric, and you watch with an apathetic hunger. 

“Sure.” 

He’s grabbing his keys, and you’re walking him out the door. Sukuna looks at the socks you’re wearing, the same socks tracing up and down his lower back as your legs were wrapped around his torso; he entertains the idea of feeling it again. 

“Bye! Drive safe.” 

“See ya.” 

You shut the door behind him, a giddy, exultant smile on your face as you trail back to your room so you can call your friends and tell them about how good you were just fucked. How hot he was. That is was Sukuna, that guy who knows and hangs out with Choso. But you’ll text him first. 

drive safe! I had fun. Let me know if you wanna do it again. ଘ( ˊωˋ)†

He texts you ten minutes later, home.

the fuck is that?

[winchesterwild78]

All patched up

I’ve got requests- ignore them if you want, but I had to try.

If you could I’d like (all plus sized/curvy reader):

Dean- best friends to lovers type situation, she gets hurt on a hunt, self conscious about letting him take care of her and patch her up. He’s there for her both to stitch her up and emotionally.

*This is for you 😁 I hope I bring your vision to life. Thank you for trusting me with a request!!*

Characters:Dean Winchester x Plus Size Reader

Warnings: Language, insecurities, mention of hunting, Fluff, SMUT, oral sex female receiving, protected sex.

A/N: This is the final request from my lovely and I’m so excited to write it. I wrote it fast so please forgive any mistakes. This does not follow The Supernatural story line.

All work is my own, don’t take it!!

Minors DNI 18+

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

“Shit!” You yelled in pain. You realized you had a deep gash on your side. The latest hunt with the oldest Winchester was a long one, and you were glad it was over. During the fight you were thrown through the wall and a piece of the splintered wood cut your side.

You knew you needed to get it stitched up but you didn’t want Dean to do it. You knew he could do it and he was good at stitches, but you didn’t want him to see your body.

You’d been hunting with the Winchesters for about two years now. Sam was great and like a brother to you. Dean, oh Dean was something more to you. Well, in your mind he was.

You’d been with them long enough to know Dean didn’t do relationships. He did one night stands with busty, skinny women. The complete opposite of you. You were busty, but you were curvy too. You carried more weight on your body, had a stomach and you knew he’d never see you as anything but a friend.

You tried to tie a bandage around you enough to keep the bleeding under control until you could get to Sammy. You and Dean made your way back to the hotel for the night. It was late so you two decided to just stay one more night.

Arriving at the hotel Dean told you he was going to take a shower and then head to the bar. You nodded. Your heart broke each time he went to a bar and picked up another woman. You didn’t have any claim to him, but you wanted to.

You sat on the bed and mindlessly clicked through the television. You heard the shower turn off and a few minutes later Dean walked out with just his jeans on. His hair was still damp from the shower and little drops of water ran down his chest. You bit your lip and clenched your thighs together.

“Showers ready for you sweetheart” Dean said. As you stood you got dizzy. You didn’t notice the blood on the back of your shirt. “Hey Y/N, you okay?” Dean questioned. “Yeah. Just got up too fast” you walked past him.

“Holy shit Y/N! You’re bleeding bad! Let me see” Dean shouted. “I’m fine Dean. It’s just a scratch. You go to the bar. I’ll be okay.” You tried to pull away.

“Y/N, sit down now!” Dean demanded. You looked at him and said “No, I’ll be okay. Please let it go.” Tears pricked your eyes. “Sweetheart, please let me look. I can’t let anything happen to you. You mean too much to me.” Dean said softly. “I can’t Dean. I can’t let you see my body. It’s terrible and just, well fat.” You cried.

“Oh sweetheart, your body is perfect. Please let me take care of you. I can’t lose you.” Dean said. “Dean it’s not perfect. Not for you at least.” You whispered “Y/N, please” he said cupping your face.

You relented and laid down. Dean lifted your shirt and saw the gash. When he removed the bandage you winced in pain. “Oh sweetheart, this is really bad. I need to clean it and stitch it up.” Dean said getting up to get the first aid kit. You laid on your side as Dean got to work.

Goosebumps erupted on your skin with every touch from Dean. He smirked when he saw it. Dean really cared about you he was just scared. He couldn’t stand losing you and he knew if the two of you got into a relationship and something happened to you, he would be devastated so he kept you at arms length.

Once he was done and he added the wrap he offered to help you stand. You stood up with his help. Facing him and looking into his green eyes sent heat through your body. You swallowed hard and said “thank you for patching me up. I appreciate it. I’ll be okay taking a shower if you want to head out.” You said trying to walk past him.

As you walked past he gently grabbed your arm and turned you towards him. The two of you stood there in silence looking at each other. Dean cupped your cheeks and you leaned into his touch. He moved towards you and you moved closer to him too. Your lips were inches apart and your breath was mingling with his. He closed the distance and his lips landed on yours.

The kiss was gentle at first then became more passionate. Dean’s hands went in your hair and pulled you closer. You moaned as you continued to kiss him. His hands roamed over your body and you froze.

Dean stopped kissing you and pulled back. “What’s wrong sweetheart” he asked. “You don’t want me Dean. I’m not like the women you sleep with. I’m not beautiful or skinny. I’m curvy and I’m rough around the edges.” You lowered your head. Dean lifted your chin “Y/N, you’re right. You aren’t like the women I pick up in bars. You’re so much more. You’re a badass hunter who can hold her own, an amazing woman who has a huge heart, a beautiful soul who puts family and friends first and you’ve got an amazing body. I love you, not just as a friend but I love you. Please let me show you just how amazing you are. I don’t want the women at the bar, I want you. I’ve always wanted you. I’ve just been scared. Scared of losing you and being here without you. I can’t imagine my life without you and if you’re willing to try I’d like to take our relationship to the next level.” Dean said.

You looked at Dean and smiled. You kissed him again and whispered “Show me Dean. Show me what you want.”

Dean gently laid you down on the bed and leaned over you kissing your lips. He worked his way down your jaw, to your neck and collar bone. Your breath hitched and your hands instinctively held on to his body. His calloused hands ran over your body. You leaned into his touch.

He helped you remove your clothes and you went to grab the sheet. Dean stopped you. “No, please let me look at your body. You blushed and fought every instinct to cover yourself. Dean smiled “sweetheart you are absolutely gorgeous. Look at your body. It’s a work of art.” You smiled. You knew he was being genuine. One thing you can honestly say about Dean Winchester is he never lies about how he feels. It might take him forever to admit it, but when he does it’s the truth.

“Dean, one of us is wearing too much clothes” you whispered. Dean smiled and said “yes ma’am” and started to remove his clothes. You’d seen Dean mostly naked before but never fully. When he removed his boxers you bit your lip.

You had imagined him before. All those late nights alone in your room, but nothing prepared you for the perfection that stood before you. You felt your body respond to him and slick pooled between your thighs. Dean climbed on the bed and leaned over your body kissing your lips. Your breath caught in your throat when you felt his hardness rest on your thigh.

“You ready sweetheart?” Dean asked. You nodded yes. His lips trailed down your body and his hands touched every inch. Dean Winchester was touching you, exploring you and wanted you! Your mind and heart raced. His fingers found your folds and he slid two thick fingers in and you gasped. He smirked and started pumping. You moaned and called his name.

His heart fluttered when you called his name. He had waited since the moment he laid eyes on you for you to moan his name. He was in love with you but was afraid to tell you. Dean had a reputation of going after “the hot chicks” he would meet them in bars and sleep with them then leave before morning. He chose these women because he knew he would never fall in love with them. You on the other hand, from the moment he met you he wanted you.

Dean continued to touch your body. With every moan and calling of his name he fell deeper. He loved how your body responded to him. He couldn’t wait to make you his forever. “Dean I’m close….oh god…..please don’t stop…..oh Dean” you grabbed his hair as he continued eating you like you were his last meal. “Dean!” You yelled as you came hard. You saw stars. Dean continued his assault on your pussy until your legs were shaking and you were squirming under him.

He leaned up smiling and you were flushed and breathing heavy. Dean leaned up and kissed you. You could taste your juices on his lips and it turned you on more.

Dean leaned back and grabbed a condom, ripping it open. He pumped his length a few times and slid the condom on. “You ready sweetheart. If you’re not we don’t have to go any further.” He softly said. “I’m ready Dean, more than ready.” You smiled.

He lined himself up and pushed in. As he entered you both gasped. He made eye contact with you and kissed you. “God you feel amazing Y/N. Better than I imagined.”

Dean took his time with you. Exploring every inch of you. Every thrust felt deeper and stretched you more than you imagined. You felt a second release coming quick and before you could say anything it hit. Your walls clenched around Dean. He stopped and dropped his head in the crook of your neck.

He growled “damn baby. You do that again and I’m going to cum right now.” Dean pulled out and the loss of fullness made you groan. He laid down “climb on top baby. I want to see you.” You positioned your legs on either side of him. You steadied your body with one hand on his chest and took his length in the other lining him back up to you. You pushed down taking all of him in at one time. You both moaned. Deans hands grabbed your hips and held you.

You arched your back showing off your torso and full breasts as they bounced up and down with each thrust. Dean looked up at you and bit his lip. His hands moved to your breasts. You grinded against his hips and he thrusted up. You moaned and so did he.

The sound of moans, kissing and flesh hitting flesh filled the room. This was better than you had imagined. Dean really wanted to and it showed. He wasn’t hurried and each touch was exploring. Memorizing your body.

He leaned up kissing your lips and thrusting up. You moaned loudly and sped up. He lifted his hips to help give you more leverage. You knew he was close. His eyes closed and he grunted, thrusting deeper.

“Oh fuck baby” he groaned. You felt him twitch and his legs fell. When he was ready you moved, laying beside him. Dean rolled over and kissed you gently. “I love you, Y/N”. “I love you too, Dean.”

Dean got up and went to the bathroom to clean himself up. When he came back he brought a warm washcloth and helped clean you. He tossed it to the side and climbed in bed with you. You laid on his chest and he tucked an arm under you. He pulled you close to him. “You’re mine now sweetheart. Now and forever.” He whispered. “You’re mine Dean, now and forever.” You replied.

The two of you drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms. Finally saying the words you both had kept inside. Finally able to see how Dean Winchester not only patched your external wounds but your internal ones too.

Tags: @nescaveckdaily @kr804573 @k-slla @jackles010378 @jawritter @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @roseblue373 @cheynovak @jassackles @chriszgirl92 @suckitands33 @arcannaa @n-o-p-e-never @ladysparkles78 @smoothdogsgirl @hobby27 @manicjk

[fruity-mega-coconut69]

Why Not Me Pt. 2 : It's Always Been You

[Pairings]: Tara Carpenter x Brackett!Fem!Reader

[Summary]: Sam and Danny help you and Tara fix the madness a simple miss-understanding caused.

[Warnings]: swearing, angst?,my writing, this whole thing literally makes no sense, not proof read

A/N: Holy shit! 600 followers! Thank you guys for all the support and love!

Pt. 1

------------------------------------------------------------------

You hear the sound of your front door shutting behind you as you slowly walk into your apartment with 2 bags in your hands. You walk into the kitchen and sigh heavily as you put the bags on the counter. Taking off your jacket and shoes, you slowly walk into your bedroom and shut the door behind you, falling face-first on your bed.

You don’t know how much time passes as you just lay there, unmoving. That is, until you hear the sound of the front door shutting once again and Danny’s heavy footsteps echo through the apartment. Soon, the footsteps get louder as Danny comes closer and closer. When the door to your bedroom opens and you groan.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Danny asks in a soft voice, although you can’t see it, you know his eyebrows are knitted together and his jaw is clenched. 

“Mhm” You murmur into your pillow and hold your left arm up, on your hand a single thump held up. 

Danny scoffs and steps further into the room, closing the door behind him softly and sitting down beside you on the edge of your bed. “Y/N, talk to me, please.” He all but begs as he places a comforting hand on your shoulder.

You sigh softly and sit up.”It-It’s Tara. I…” You stop as you choke back a sob. 

“Go on.”

“So, last night…..I gave Mindy my purse and this morning I obviously needed it. And I remembered I gave it to her and never asked for it back, so I took your spare key to Sam’s and Tara’s apartment, hoping that Mindy would be there. But when I walked into the kitchen…..I saw….Tara “You swallow harshly as you try to compose yourself. “She-...she was…pushed up against the counter ... .by Chad and he was kissing her and I just couldn’t and I-I-I ran out. Oh god- “A sob escapes your throat and Danny looks at you with soft eyes that could be barely seen due to the darkness of your room.

“Oh, kiddo” He sighs and pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around your shoulders as you sob. And although his attention should be completely on you, he can’t help but be confused. Just about a week ago, Sam told him about how Tara was in so deep for you and that she couldn’t stop talking about you.

So what changed?

He thinks to himself the next day. He’s in the kitchen, once again making breakfast but his thoughts are running a million miles per hour. Thoughts about how, and why Tara has done what she had done.

He grunts and puts the wooden spoon he was holding down and reaches for his phone in his pocket, fetching it out and turning it on, dialing Sam’s number. 

It rings for a minute and Danny realizes that Sam should be at work by now. He curses at himself and just as he’s about to hang up, Sam’s voice fills his ears and a sickening smile is immediately on his face.

“Danny? What is it?” Sam asks, her voice laced in confusion.

“Sam! HI! So, uhm…i don’t know if you know but, I’ll just tell you.”Danny takes a deep breath.” Tara and Chad…kissed yesterday. And Y/N saw. I’d like to explain more but, she’ll wake up soon, so. Anyway, did you know about this?”

Sam gasps “What? H-How would that happen? Tara..she told me herself how she feels about Y/N. What the fuck?” 

Danny shakes his head and looks towards your bedroom door. “I don’t know, but she’s devastated. And I can’t really do anything. So, please….talk with Tara. Find out what’s going on, because….this is ridiculous!”

Sam nods and speaks on the other end of the call. “Yeah. I will talk to her after work but I have to get back now.”

Danny smiles. “Okay, bye. Be safe” 

“Bye”

— —

Later that evening, Sam walks into her apartment and she lets out a groan when she drops her bag on the floor, her tense shoulders relaxing. Then, she remembers her call with Danny and suddenly, she’s wide awake. Sam makes her way over to Tara’s door rather quickly and knocks on it a couple of times. When she doesn’t get an answer, she opens the door to find Tara on her bed, reading a book with her airpods on. Sam rolls her eyes and takes the book from Tara’s hands. Tara gasps and quickly takes her airpods out, setting up and trying to get her book back. When she fails, she huffs and turns to glare at her sister.

“What?!” She asks, clearly annoyed.

“Nuh-uh. Don’t give me that tone! “ Sam glares back then sits down on Tara’s bed.”Tell me, my dear little sister, what the actual fuck were you thinking?!” Sam nearly shouts and bumps Tara’s head with the book.

“Aww, what the fuck? What was that for?”

“Oh stop whining. Care to explain to me why you were kissing Chad yesterday in our kitchen?” Tara’s eyes widen and her face contorts in  half disgust-half confusion.

“How do you know about that? Who told you?”

“That doesn’t matter. What does, and I know it’s not my place to tell but at this point there is no other solution, is that Y/N saw.”Tara opens her mouth to say something but Sam holds up a hand “And before you ask, It’S a problem,  because she likes, no fuck that, loves you! And you’ve told me countless times how you would do anything for just one chance!” Sam says, the last part kind of mockingly.

Tara’s mouth opens and closes and she looks just like a fish.  “What?!” Tara stands up and starts pacing around, back and forth in her room.��You-You knew all this time that she likes me back? AND YOU SAID NOTHING?!”

Sam shakes her head.” I told you, It wasn’t my place to tell. And besides, me and Danny had fun watching you two circle around each other. Well until yesterday, when Danny went home to a depressed Y/N.” 

“Shit. Is it that bad? “Sam nods “But, fuck! I-It was a mistake! And…it was Chad! He caught me off guard and-and” 

“Tara, calm down. We can fix things, but we need a plan, yeah?” Tara nods slowly and sits down beside Sam.

– —

After a week of planning, the plan was perfect.  Step 1, Danny and Sam go to another date. Step 2, be happy that the timing is perfect and Quinn is out of town to see her mom. Step 3, make sure the others don’t come around. Step 4, bring Tara over to Danny’s and your place.

Sam knocks on the soft, wooden door of Danny’s apartment and a second later, it opens. Danny smiles and lets Sam and Tara in. As they walk to the living room, just in that moment, you open your bedroom door and walk out with your head down and a frown on your face. But you immediately stop in your tracks when you hear Tara’s sweet and familiar voice.

“Oh come on, Sam! I’ve never done anything stupid when you left me alone! “Tara fake whines while looking up at Sam.

You curiously walk into the living room to see your brother, Sam and Tara standing about in a small circle. They all look at you and you suddenly realize that you’re still in your pajamas and a blush creeps up your neck.

“Uhm, what’s…going on?”

Danny comes over to explain to you what’s happening and how Tara has to stay there due to him and Sam going on a date once again and that no one else is home.

While Danny speaks to you, Tara can’t take her eyes off of you. You in your adorable pajamas with unicorns scattered across the soft cotton. A smile settles on her face as she looks at you before it’s wiped off by a hand slamming into the back of her head. She winces and her hand flies up to rub the back of her head as she looks at Sam.

“What the fuck man?” 

Sam just shakes her head and rolls her eyes that light up when Danny turns back to them and walks back over, taking her hand. Danny looks at you once more and smiles. “Have fun!” And with that, they’re out the door.

You scoff and glare at the door intensely before Tara’s face comes into view and a frown forms on your face again.

“Uhm, yeah. So, the TV’s there and food’s in the fridge. If you need something and it’s important, I’ll be in my room”You rush out the words faster than you intend to, but still turn around and start heading back towards your bedroom.

Tara gasps softly behind you and reaches out, her hand clasping tightly around your wrists. “W-Wait, Y/N.” 

You clench your jaw and turn around. “Yeah?” You ask as softly as you can.

“I…I know that you saw me and Chad yesterday. “At the mention of Chad and the whole kissing thing, tears well up in your eyes and you try to pull your wrist away from her deadly grip. “ Please, let me explain! “Tara takes a deep breath and you fully turn around. “I…like you. Not Chad. You. And I know that this is confusing, looking at what you saw yesterday, but it wasn’t me! Chad kissed me and caught me off guard. And…I-I just really, really like you and-” She exhales.

Your eyebrows furrow and you stop struggling against her grip, instead taking a step closer. “Wait, really? I….” But before you could finish, Tara mutters a breathless ‘fuck it’ and cups your face, pulling it down and placing her soft, hot pink lips against yours. You sigh into the kiss as Tara starts walking backwards and just before the back of her legs hit the edge of the couch, she turns the two of you around and it’s you who falls onto the couch, but she follows shortly after, not breaking the kiss while settling down in your lap.

She grins into the kiss as your arms fall to your sides, not knowing what to do with them. She grabs them and puts them around her waist, her hands holding your face a little tighter as you suddenly pull her closer. The kiss soon turns desperate and before anything could happen, she pulls away and you let out a quiet whine-which she chuckles at-. “Hmm, not yet, darling.” 

You blush and nod as she wraps her arms around your neck and gets more comfortable.

“Cute pj’s, by the way. “She whispers in your ear and your cheeks heat up, turning even redder.

[nickyknacks]

GO2 SPOILERS AFTER THE CUT Y’ALL CUZ I GOT SOME SHIT TO SAY

Okay okay okay okay. Goddamn. Holy shit. Okay. Fuck.

So here’s the thing. Do you see that look on Aziraphale’s face, when Crowley pulls away?

That man 👆 is devastated, he looks like he’s choking back a sob. The first time I watched it, I was fucking gutted. The second time I watched it, immediately after because I’m a sociopath who apparently loves pain, I…was fucking gutted. But this time, I saw it not just from Crowley’s perspective, but Aziraphale’s.

Aziraphale loves Crowley, like romance with a capital R, Jane Goddamn Austen and Cotillion Balls and getting caught in the rain Loves him. We know this. So why reject the kiss? Because of some bullshit ‘your side my side’ stuff, that he hasn’t managed to grow past in two seasons? I argue, no. There’s more going on here.

Don’t get me wrong, Aziraphale is still wrestling with some bullheaded moral superiority and arrogance, and still hiding behind the great Heavenly tautology of “I’m an Angel, so as long as I’m doing what Heaven expects of me, I’m doing the right thing.” No hard choices or uncomfortable questions or gray areas need apply. (Though he is learning to live with them. He’s started to absorb that good people can do bad things to accomplish good things, even with bad motives—and Vice versa.)

And he still has some growing to do to get past that, and with some of the chatter we’ve heard from Neil himself I truly believe we’re going to get to see it happen. BUT.

“Aziraphale is still religiously brainwashed” doesn’t satisfactorily explain his behavior, his words, or the EXPRESSIONS on his face ((my God, just. Fucking kill me already)) when Crowley kisses him. I don’t think we’re seeing Aziraphale still not understand or believe that he loves Crowley. I think Aziraphale knows that he loves Crowley—but thinks he knows that Crowley doesn’t really love him that way back.

Hear me out.

This whole season has been a montage of obvious, unsubtle lovesick expressions from Aziraphale to Crowley.

And knowing what we now know about the ending, we know those aren’t just subtext in our heads, it’s all there and intended. Okay. So why reject a declaration of love when he finally gets it? Just because Crowley won’t get with the program and go back to Heaven? I don’t think that’s all there is to it.

The last thing Crowley does before kissing him is put his glasses back on.

Look at him. Look at the sadness and frustration peeking through there. Aziraphale has seen this many many times before. He knows that whatever he’s about to see or hear is going to be coming from a place of defensiveness, posturing, or even performance. He knows that Crowley wants to be able to see without being seen, still feels like he can’t say whatever he needs to say without that advantage, and that’s got to be so hard. And it’s easy to say, “you just broke his heart! He’s visibly tearing up, of course he wants the protection of his glasses, and to save a bit of dignity!” Or even to take it as proof that Crowley means what he’s saying, if it’s so raw he can’t even do it while making eye contact. But that would be like looking around for where the furniture isn’t. Aziraphale can’t truly know Crowley’s motives here, because Crowley himself just made sure of it.

The last thing Crowley says before kissing him is “You Idiot, we *could have* been us.” Not “We still can be”. With heart armor glasses back on, tears in his eyes, and anger and accusation in his voice, Crowley grabs Aziraphale for a crushing, desperate, *angry* kiss. ((Still Swoony for us, I know, but hold that thought. Is that what Aziraphale would find swoony? Is that what he thinks love should look like, and how he wants to be loved? Is that what he’s shown us so far? No. It isn’t.))

And Aziraphale battles with it, he really does.

It’s gut wrenching to watch. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, he hesitates and touches his back and takes them back off again, and when they pull apart he looks like he’s just been gutted. Why? Why look that *pained* if it was just an unwelcome advance from a flawed friend you don’t think you can love?

I think it’s precisely because he DOES know and accept that he loves Crowley, and he thinks Crowley’s kiss is something that *looks very much* like what he’s desperately wanted from him for a long, long time—-but isn’t, actually. I think the pain of being taunted with a shallow facsimile of the love he wants to give and receive from Crowley is what we’re seeing on his face. Because I think Aziraphale thinks that Crowley is really just making one final desperate play to maintain the status quo, by giving Aziraphale what he’s guessed he might want, but doesn’t truly feel, or understand yet. I think Aziraphale receives that kiss as an ultimatum, or a compromise, or even a naked temptation or manipulation—anything to keep Aziraphale on Earth and just the way things are. And shit, guys, Heaven bullshit aside, I think he might be partially right.

Remember, Crowley was not on board the “I’m in love and we should admit it” train even five minutes ago, when he was confronted by the resident Disaster Gays who’ve had their shit figured out for all of five minutes themselves. He doesn’t seem to get it. Maybe he’s been reflexively posturing and denying the nature of their relationship out of self protective habit, or…. Maybe he really hadn’t understood that what he feels for Aziraphale is love. When Crowley chooses to forge ahead and confess his feelings after Aziraphale drops the “I’m going back to Heaven” bomb, maybe Aziraphale receives it as nothing more than a panicked Hail Mary to keep him around. Maybe it’s because that’s exactly what it’s become.

Don’t forget that, for all Aziraphale’s lack of understanding, he does seem to want to go back because he thinks he can fix things, and make Heaven what it really ought to have always been. And up until the last minute, Az seems like he might truly change his mind, until he realizes that there are still big plans that need thwarting, and no one else around to thwart them. Maybe it’s Crowley who really doesn’t understand that, because remember—Crowley is still just asking Aziraphale to run away from everything together. Same as the bandstand, just this time it’s less obviously on fire. He’s still trying to give up on Creation, wash his hands of it, and fuck off with his boyfriend. And his boyfriend won’t let him.

So no, I don’t think Aziraphale is rejecting Demon Crowley and his love because he’s choosing Heaven’s acceptance instead. I think he’s rejecting Crowley’s complacency, and lack of vulnerability, and his putting their own safety above all else. And I think he’s particularly crushed that in this moment, Crowley’s trying to use Aziraphale’s love as a lever or a crowbar to keep him out of Heaven, where he’s not willing to follow.

Now, again, there’s a lot that Aziraphale’s not seeing here ((“you’re the bad guys”, FUCK my dude)), but I don’t think you can feasibly claim that Aziraphale’s anguish is coming from a place of delusion or denial. They’re still not fully seeing each other. For Crowley to think that Aziraphale would choose to stay and leave Creation to any of the malevolent bastards who want to run it straight into another Apocalypse, there’s a lot that he’s not getting about Aziraphale as well. For Aziraphale to think that Crowley would be delighted to get to be an angel again, he’s still not understanding so, so much.

But what’s clear to me is that they both are still a rebound mess. They don’t truly see each other yet. But I think they will. because if they don’t I will gnaw through these bars and go straight to the asylum so help me God, who do I gotta yowl at to get a S3

[toomanytookas]

He feels like he loves too strong sometimes. Too much. He squeezes his eyes shut in shame.

GOODBYE. I’m done. I can’t. Taylor, what is this and why do you make me care so much for this weird man?

He sees [a shadow] pass over her face for a moment but then she’s smiling again 👀 👀 👀 I know she isn't like... shady, but something about their dynamic feels so off.

[Obviously I wrote this the other day, but I'm keeping this as-written so you get the first impression]

The fight at the party. The fight. At. The party. That scene peered into my fucking soul and broke something. Look, I won’t say more in a comment that’s just like out there on the internet, but damn.

I went into reading this with the assumption it was going to make me cry at some point but holy shit I wasn’t expecting it quite yet. I’m glad this is a night flight because I don’t need everyone staring at me while I try to shake the anxiety out of my bones. Holy fuck this was so good but so devastating. I literally want to punch the seat in front of me but the dude sitting in it is sleeping and I don’t think he’d appreciate it.

I was so fascinated to get a bit more of a peek at the rockiness of Dieter and Chloe’s relationship… To see the contrast between how we've seen him talk and think about her in past chapters compared with the clarity/sense of reality he seems to have here:

I sometimes wonder if this is how she punishes me. She didn’t want a divorce until she broke my heart first.

I am just always so in awe of how you use sex as storytelling, how the intimacy of it all plays into the narrative.

This line was incredible:

“His affection is corrosive sometimes, but you’re just alkaline; salty, burning, acrid. He wants to melt into you.”

Ok sorry for spamming you with all of these posts, but I figured I would get them out of my head and my drafts before I started reading again. <333

Chapter 5 of Recovery Road

chapter rating: E (18+)

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

word count: 7483

chapter summary: Chloe comes home to him, just in time to face you again at the movie’s wrap party. But it seems nothing can stop the inevitable.  

chapter warnings/tags: SMUT (finally), officially infidelity, cheating, accusations of drug use, insecurity

a/n: this is what I imagined Dieter and reader wearing to the party.

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For the first time in a very, very, very long time, one of Dieter’s projects ends on time and within budget. No psychopathic directors, no nitpicking changes to the script, no reshoots because the studio had a stick up its ass.

And – he can proudly say – no trouble-filled, cocaine-fueled hysterical breakdowns from the talent. He’s on the other side, uncomfortable with the silence– the peace – and waits for the other shoe to drop. It never comes. Scott even gives him a specific call out on the last day of shooting for being (and this is a direct quote) “a upstanding leader and insightful character actor, whose commitment to the craft ensured the success of this film.” 

Scott also gave you a glowing review as well, but whatever. 

On top of all that, Chloe comes home two days later. 

She smells like sharp, warm spices, he remembers when he buries his nose in her hair. She walks through the door and she’s in his arms, close to his chest, against that burning knot he can’t seem to shake. He carries her – her suitcases still by the front door – all the way up to their bedroom and, delicately at first, proceeds to ravage her. This body is familiar, he thinks, as he doesn’t even take off her underwear before thrusting his fingers inside of her. He watches her eyes roll back with deep, deep satisfaction and he closes his eyes, committing the sound of her cries to memory, if they weren’t already there. He needed them to paper the inside walls of his brain so he could pluck them down whenever he wanted. His brain needed a renovation. 

“Dieter, slow down, baby,” she mewls, pushing on his shoulder only to tighten her grip on him, twisting his shirt. He wants to beg her to do that to his hair. “I still smell like airport. Lemme take a shower first.”

To prove her wrong, he yanks off her underwear – a little lace thing that he wants to put in his pocket – and dives, tongue-first, in between her legs. He moans as her talons latch onto the crown of his head and he laps at her clit. 

“I don’t give a shit, baby. You taste so fucking good. I need you.” 

And he did. Despite where his fingers and his tongue and eventually his cock went, she made him whole. She smoothed out his rough edges, stroking down this frantic energy he had been carrying for days like wired hair on the back of his neck. He poured so much of him into her that when he came inside of her, this immeasurable weight was gone. 

“What the fuck was that, Dieter?” Chloe pants when they were done. They are both dripping in sweat, skin blisteringly hot, and gasping for painful breaths. “I’m not complaining exactly, but my God, where did that come from?”

He looks up at her, his head on her chest. She’s absently playing with his sweat-streaked hair so he thinks she might not be really mad. He shrugs, his heart still pounding as if it were inside of a drum, and presses a kiss on her shoulder.

“I just fucking missed you.” 

“Yeah, I got that . . .” 

He feels like he loves too strong sometimes. Too much. He squeezes his eyes shut in shame. 

“Did I hurt you? I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

“Honestly, Dee, just a little. I just got a seven hour flight and you come in like a horny tornado–,”

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to – I just –,”

“Dieter, stop. It’s fine.” She kisses him and his anxiety falters.

“Let me make you dinner, while you take a shower. I’ll rub your feet later, if you want.”

She laughs and he feels things shift, return to normal. “Okay, baby, okay. And, you know, I missed you too.”

He shifts onto his elbows, trapping her below him before she can shimmy off the bed. Her eyes are bright and she’s smiling at him. 

Why would I risk this? Why would I risk her for you?

She strokes a damp curl behind his ear. “What? What are you so smile-y about?”

“You mean the world to me, you know that, right?” He kisses her gently, quickly because there’s more he has to say. “I don’t know who I am without you. I want to be the person you want me to be.”

“Dieter–,”

“I’m serious.” He swallows, shaking his head, suddenly fearful of what he almost lost. “I can’t do any of this without you.” 

It’s late evening and the shadows are long and he thinks he sees one pass over her face for a moment, but then she’s smiling again. 

“Of course, baby. I love you too.”

   The following morning, an invitation for a cast-and-crew screening of the film at Scott Manley’s home comes through the mail. It’s on nice cardstock and everything. With the press circuit coming soon that would take them on the road for weeks, Dieter is inclined to throw the damn thing in the garbage. But Chloe insists. 

“Oh, c’mon, Dieter, don’t be like that,” she says as she rifles through the mail while they wait for coffee to finish brewing. “I wanna meet your co-stars. And from what you’ve said about the director, I think it’ll be lots of fun.”

He crowds behind her with one hand on the island, the other wrapping around her waist, his pinkie digging beneath the fantastic green leggings she’s got on. 

“I can think of something that would be even more fun.” He noses the back of her ear. 

“Dieter, stop. You know I don’t like sex before yoga.”

The coffee pot beeps and she slides out of his arms. 

“Wait, yoga? Now? It’s eight in the morning.”

“I go every Tuesday with Marlene. This isn’t anything new.” She pours in MUD and the smell reminds him of fertilizer. 

He swallows. “But you just got back. I thought we could spend the day together. There’s a new art exhibit that I thought you’d like to –,”

“Dieter, I’ve just spent three months deeply entrenched in the art world.” She glances at him as she pours the sludge-y mix into a travel mug. “I think I’d rather do literally anything else.”

“Okay, then you pick. We can do whatever you want, but I’d–,”

She puts a hand on his chest and kisses his cheek. “We’ll talk when I get back. And we’re going to that party, okay? It’ll be good for us.”

He nods vaguely as she picks up her keys, yoga mat, and coffee and heads out the door without another word. 

Us. Okay. That’s good news. 

Thirty minutes later, he’s out running Griffith park until his knees buckled, sweat soaking the front and back of his shirt, and he’s overworked himself so much he thinks he might puke. 

God, he fucking hates running. 

She does come back, as promised, and they go see a movie. It’s dark and he holds her hand. 

He gets her door for her before the valet can, but his eyes are scanning the grounds, unsure what he’s looking for, but highly aware of an encroaching something. Maybe it was the storm above. If there was any luck, Scott planned for the viewing to be outside and with bad weather, he’ll have to cancel the whole thing. Frowning darkly, he takes Chloe by the hand, tossing the keys to the Jaguar to the boy in a red vest, and starts up the steps of the Tudor-style home two at a time. 

Fuck, he forgot he hates this shirt. The orange color is all wrong and the collar always itches the skin on his neck and–

“Dieter, honey, slow down!” Chloe demands. He freezes and she’s still two steps down, trying to balance up the stairs in heels and a chiffon, plated dress. “You’re running like something’s on fire.”

Immediately, he relents. He helps her up the stairs and rubs her elbow. 

“Sorry, sorry, I think I’m just nervous.”

“Oh, sweetie, why?” She tucks up a fly-away curl across his forehead and he kisses her knuckles, still frowning. “You used to love these.”

Above the slate-gray sky grumbles and the wind rushes the trees surrounding the property. 

“I dunno. I just feel like there’s going to be too much . . .”

He trails off and swallows. There’s not enough words to manifest exactly what he’s so afraid of.

“There’ll be too much temptation, right?” 

His eyes snap to hers. 

She’s frowning sympathetically. “There’s all kinds of alcohol at things like this. And God knows what other shit people are bringing. It brings back bad memories, right?”

It feels like he’s choking. He can only nod. 

“I know, baby. But you’ll get through this. You got through that party at that hotel, right? We’ll just do it again.”

He suddenly wishes she isn’t touching him, isn’t so close with her hand on his cheek. She kisses him on the lips but he doesn’t react. 

“C’mon. We won’t even go near the drinks.” 

He lets her pull him up the stairs. He catches one more glance at the rolling sky. He doesn’t like the tense smell of ozone that’s building. There is too much electricity in the air.

There is a brief moment of reprieve when he sees the inside of Scott’s home for the first time. The tall, cream walls hover in fixed arches over the doorways. The wainscotting is crisp, fine, matching the black edgings and black and white tiled floors in all but color. The furniture and tables are held up by beautiful copper pipes, made soft by wood accents in the knick-knacks and artwork. Splashes of green plants highlight the corners and shadows. The windows are wide and striking, coaxing in every thread of light. The house opens to a long foyer that disappears into the bowels of the house, with a thick stack of white stairs on the right that shrink up to another level. To the immediate left is an immaculate black-and-cream dining set of tables and chairs, and further down the hall, faint music and laughter creeps over the dark hardwood floor.

This is the house of a real, big-time, actual adult. Not exactly his first impression of Scott Manley. 

“Dieter, you were so mean when you talked about this man,” Chloe hisses as she shuts the door behind them. “This place is gorgeous. There’s no Star Wars anywhere. Does his wife work?”

Dieter shrugs, awestruck. He cranes his neck up to try and see where the second floor disappeared to. 

“I have no idea. I never even heard him mention his wife.” 

“He must be a pretty successful director to have a place like this in LA.”

“We’re on the outskirts, sweetheart, don’t sound so impressed.” 

Chloe opens her mouth to respond, when someone down the hall calls his name. “Dieter!”

It’s Scott. Dressed exactly like he did during the entirety of production, with the exception of a black blazer. That is new. He’s a bit pink-faced and there’s a glass of something amber in his hand. He’s smiling and it makes Dieter weirdly uncomfortable. 

“So glad you could make it! These things always go over better when you’ve got your stars!”

He turns to Chloe, but Dieter jumps first. “Natalie’s here?”

Scott’s wet mouth opens and closes. “Erm, well, yes. Why wouldn’t she be?”

He forcefully unclenches his face. “Why does she do anything?” 

Chloe and Scott watch him with uncertainty for a moment, then Scott beams at her. 

“And you must be Mrs. Bravo!”

“Chloe works just fine,” she laughs sweetly and lets him take her hand. 

“I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but Dieter here talked about you so much I feel like I know you like a close friend.” 

He relaxes when her hand slides over his forearm. She stares up at him with her big eyes, her pink mouth grinning. She feels solid next to him, more solid than he is. 

“Did he now?”

So what if you are here? Chloe is here instead and she’s here to stay. He smirks at her and presses a kiss to the arc of her cheek.

“Of course, baby, all good things.” He glances at Scott again, who shifts back and forth on his feet, unflappably uncomfortable with displays of human affection. “Is Heidi here yet?”

“Oh, they didn’t tell you? She can’t come. Production on her other shoot got extended by three weeks.”

“Oh.”

It stings more than he thought it would. Her last email, because that has been the only way to get in touch with her lately, said she’d probably be able to make the wrap party.

“Well, if you’d like to see it,” Scott says, swaying on his feet, “the party is back here.”

And that’s how he enters the wrap party of his most successful project to date. With a beautiful woman at his side and a confidence that oozes. Scott leads them out to a square courtyard, with a single lemon tree in the center. There’s a relaxed beat playing from somewhere in the bushes. The night is cool and there’s a breeze. Everything’s glowing warm. People laugh and drink, peacefully. The waiters slide around offering canapes and champagne. In the garden beyond, there’s a screen and chairs. 

This is it. This is the moment he’s back. Back on top. Everything is right in the world. Everything is exactly as it’s supposed to be. He is where he is supposed to be. 

And then he sees you. 

And you’re still not wearing any fucking pants.

 “Dieter, honey, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

He blinks, his brain not connected to any part of his body. He feels hollow. Smooth on the inside. 

“Dieter. Dieter!”

Her nails dig into his chin as Chloe yanks his focus down to her. There’s something cloudy about the way she looks at him.

“Dieter, what are you looking at?” She doesn’t quite laugh but she tries.

“Nothing, baby, nothing.” He rubs his thumb over her shoulder. He can feel the tension in her neck. “It’s nothing. Just surprised to see this many people. It’s no big deal.”

She frowns, no longer committing to the charade. 

“I’ve never seen you make that face before. It was . . . I don’t know. It . . . scared me. I’ve never seen you look like that.” She repeats. 

He makes sure he’s not trembling when he runs his fingers from her shoulder down to her elbow. “Like I said, I’m nervous about being here, baby. It’s nothing.”

“That’s not–,”

“Dieter Bravo, as I fuckin’ live and breathe!” 

Mark Bronson in a crisp white shirt and black slacks climbs the stairs to the pavilion, his beard tinged with gray and braided down the center. He’s grinning when he yanks Dieter into a hug. He smells faintly like cheap vodka and cigars, but it’s not unpleasant.

A woman follows up behind him, with hair redder than the sunset and a matching red flush. The waitress, who’s name is . . .

“Molly, hey, how are you?” He leans forward and kisses her on the cheek. “It’s been too long.” 

“Hey, you said, you were gonna bring your wife to this,” Mark said, frowning with his hands on his hips. And then he takes Chloe’s hand and spins her. “Now, I know this beautiful creature cannot be your wife. She’s way outta your league...”

“Don’t I know it?” Dieter chuckles as Chloe laughs. Molly hands them both a drink as Mark bows in front of her. His is ice water. 

“Chloe Bravo, you are magnificent.”

“Chloe, this is Mark and his wife, Molly. Mark and I met a few years ago. I’ve only had the pleasure of meeting Molly once.”

Mark snorts as his wife winds her short arms around his long slender waist. “A few years ago? Dieter, it’s been a bit longer than that.” 

“Okay, well, who have you known longer? Me or Molly?” 

Chloe tucks her arms up into his chest and lays her head on his collarbone. He wraps his arms over her back. His grin teases Mark.

“Hey, man, what are you trying to do to me? Get me in trouble?”

“How long have you two been married?” Chloe asks sweetly. She smells like peach tea and, in his pants, his cock twitches. 

“Oh, ‘bout fifteen years.” Mark glances down to Molly. “Is that right, darling?”

“Fifteen this April.”

“Wow! So you must have been through it all. All the crazy celebrity gigs, right?”

Molly smiles and Mark kisses the top of her forehead. 

“Oh, yeah. All the press circuits, red carpets, premieres. I thought the worst was over and then Instagram came along.”

“The studio makes me have an account, darling, I’m helpless to stop them,” Mark laments pitifully and the rest laugh.

“Well, you might have to give this one here some pointers,” Dieter nods to Chloe in his arms, “she’s coming with us on the circuit for Recovery.” 

“What? No, I’m not.” Chloe lifts her head from his collarbone, her arms suddenly like weights against his chest. 

“What’d you mean? Of course you are. That was the plan.” 

“No, it wasn’t.” She pulls out of his grip and crosses her arms. “I told you months ago that my father has a gallery opening this month.”

“A gallery opening? The thing your dad always has going on?”

Chloe swallows as several on-lookers turn as his voice raises. “Dieter, let’s not do this right now.”

“We never talked about this. When did this happen? Were you going to say anything or just leave?” 

The crowd around them goes silent. She glances around, shame thinning her mouth. 

He doesn’t care. He’s not so much angry as he is . . . petrified. He was telling the truth earlier; he can’t do this without her. 

“Dieter, calm down, you’re making a scene.” 

“No! When were you going to tell me?” 

He’s not going to grab her – he’s not his father – but his stomach squeezes like a fist. His heartbeat is somewhere in his wrist and his head and his knees. The wind is suddenly too loud, the chatter is too loud. What is that smell? There are pennies in his mouth, rattling against his teeth. 

“Chloe, can’t you just do this one thing for me?”

“Jesus Christ,” she hisses suddenly with real malice, “everything I do is for you.” 

Her mouth snaps shut when she realizes just how many people were staring. 

The lightning is thick in the air, a spark running in circles against a tinder. 

“Oh, yeah? Then where the fuck have you been the last three months?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. And lower your voice.”

“Is this what it takes for you to have a conversation with me? For you to actually look at me for five fucking seconds? I can barely get you on the phone for more than a minute, if at all!”

“Dieter, you’re being irrational.” Chloe’s eyes are scorching, fierce. She’s threatening him. She’s going to use her most powerful weapon against him. He knows exactly what she’s going to say a second before it comes out of her mouth. “Are you using again?”

Inside of him something breaks. 

He can feel the bend, the crack, the bleed. It wavers in agony.

Whether or not she actually means it is beyond the point. Beyond the pale. He’s trying – he’s been trying – so hard – so fucking hard – and it doesn’t fucking matter to her. His weakest point is her party trick. 

It comes in a rushing wave, overtakes him, drowns him. This is how the spiral hurts. 

He shoves Mark aside, going back towards the house. Back into the heart of this living thing that’s trying to eat him alive. Behind him, he thinks he hears your laugh. High and loud. 

He comes to the first door he finds on the second floor and nearly kicks it open. 

It’s up to his eyes. He can’t see straight. There’s pain over his eyebrow, in his shoulder, his fingers. It concentrates in his chest – he unbuttons his collar all the way down – he’s shaking – he’s shaking so badly — 

Count down from ten, the nice lady at the rehab center told him. 

You’re having a panic attack, darling. Don’t worry. It’ll pass. Count down and focus on what you can see, hear, touch, taste, and smell. Ground yourself in the space.

10. 9. 8 – 

He gulps down air, hand on his chest to keep his heart from bursting out through his ribs.

7. 6. 5 –

It’s an office, he realizes, when the room stops spinning. The walls are dark, much darker than the rest of the house. This is where the moss has grown, away from the ivory. 

Here, there is no noise from the party. He can still taste copper in his mouth. It smells like tobacco and mint here.

4. 3. 2 — 

The settee is a dark teal and the short, squat lamps on the oak desk hum orange. Walnut brown bookcases line the walls. 

And there in the corner, behind the desk and leather-backed chair, is a cabinet. Low to the ground. With gold tumblers and a mirror on top. 

On shaky legs, he goes and opens the square doors. 

His mouth goes wet with wanting. 

Whisky.

Rum.

Vodka.

All of it. 

Just one. He needs only one. 

The bottle is cool, smooth. He takes out the corked lid and the aroma fogs up his brain like condensation on glass.

Are you using again?

No. But he could be. The door opens behind him.

“Dieter, what the hell are you doing in here?” 

Of course.

Of course, it was you. 

Maybe it always was. 

“What? Did your wife put you in time out?” You smirk when he doesn’t answer and you shut the door behind you. “Or was it Scott? The night’s still young, Dee, so many other things to fuck up and –,”

“Natalie.” His voice is rough. It rumbles out of his chest on his last breath. “Don’t. Please . . . just, don’t. Not tonight.” 

His hand shaking, he puts back the bottle of whisky. You narrow your eyes at him.

“Shit, what the hell happened to you? You look terrible.” You say, frowning as though confused, as if this is some convoluted plot to fuck with you. “I saw you run off and I thought, this would be a great time to remind him what a piece of shit he is . . . but you look like someone beat me to it.”

You stay firmly planted in front of the door, arms crossed, as he comes to the front of the desk and leans back against it. He feels cold sweat stick to his lower back.

“Seriously, Dieter, are you sick?” 

He shakes his head. His stomach always feels hollow after one of those episodes. “No, just a bad night.”

“Like bad crabs or found out your aunt died bad?”

“Natalie—,”

“Just tell me. What happened?”

He lifts his gaze to you. It’s hard to believe that less than a month ago, he felt like he could tell you anything. In that golden house on the hill. When you were different people. You look genuinely concerned.

“Dieter, I’m going to go get a doctor unless you—,”

“Look, I have these . . . episodes, alright? My head gets all foggy and I can’t stop shaking and I can’t breathe right. I just need some space.” He adds pointedly because the expression on your face has changed. 

“You get panic attacks?” You take a step forward, hand reaching forward before you let it drop, as if remembering you can’t touch. “I, uh, I know what that’s like. I . . . I have them too.”

“C’mon, don’t do that. Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not — I’m serious!” Your brow furrows as your eyes flash hotly with anger. “They started after I moved away from my mom. And now, I just . . . manage the symptoms.”

“Yeah, how?”

You give him a look and he frowns.

“You know what’s not good for panic attacks?” He playfully glances to the ceiling as he lists them off on his fingers. “Bennys. Cocaine. LSD. I could keep going.” 

You put your hands on your hips, scowling. “Fine but waiting to get fucked raw by life isn’t the way to handle it either.”  

He bites his cheek, crossing his arms across his chest. “So, then we’ll just wait it out and see who survives the longest. Then we’ll know who’s right.”

Another dare in your eyes. He meets the challenge. But this time, you swerve first.

You drop his gaze.

“It’s a coin flip, right? Only a matter of time . . . before we both fucking lose it.” 

He doesn’t like how that truth sits in the back of his mouth. As usual, you’ve rattled in him something he didn’t know was loose.

“So, then go for it.” He opens his arms wide. “Say whatever has been stewing away in your head for weeks now. I’m an easy target.”

Your mouth rolls, pouting like an eight year old. You narrow your eyes at him. “Nah, you’re too pathetic right now. When I tell you what’s been on my mind, I want you to burst into tears. It’s no fun if you’re already like this . . . what happened?”

It didn’t feel like pity coming from you, even if he knew you had been picturing his balls in a vice grip since filming wrapped. 

He sighs, and picks at the skin on his left thumb. 

“You’ll be thrilled to know I just made an ass of myself in front of half our colleagues and coworkers. And then my wife asked, very publicly, if I was using again . . . I feel like I can’t fucking win.”

“Well, you’re not, right? Using?” In those knee-high black suede heels, you stretch across the room and take the place next to him. Just like you had at the pool. You crossed your arms too. A concession— another white flag amongst the bitterness.

He shakes his head. 

“So then fuck that. And fuck her for doubting you. Why did she ask that?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “I thought — hoped — she was coming on the press tour for Recovery.” He rolls his jaw from side to side. “I’m getting sick and tired of spending my nights in a hotel room by myself.”

He catches the corner of your eye and his neck warms. 

“Not like that . . . I mean, fuck, maybe a bit like that. I don’t know. I’m trying everything I can to keep this marriage alive and she just feels . . . ambivalent.” He swallows. “Last time, I gave her an out. After the arrest and before rehab. I told her I’d sign the divorce papers, whatever she wanted. She could have my money, my house, my car. I just didn’t want her to have to live with the embarrassment of being married to me. And, instead, she told me, ‘the money isn’t important to me’. I was so grateful at the time, I didn’t question it. But now . . . I sometimes wonder if this is how she punishes me. She didn’t want a divorce until she broke my heart first.”

You’re uncharacteristically silent. The white ruffles around your wrists flutter as you put your hands on the other side of your hips, fingertips drumming the desk. 

“Did you ever think maybe the problem isn’t you? Or her for that matter?”

“What do you mean?”

You sigh, an exasperated smile on your face. “Take a look at where we are, Dee. Normal people don’t live like this. Normal people don’t do what we do. No one else will take us so we congregate amongst ourselves to establish a new baseline of crazy.”

“And, what? Anyone who enters our orbit is doomed to be fucked in the head?”

“We’re all fucked in the head, Dieter. You. Me. Scott. Hell, even your pretty little wife out there.” You glance at him. “This whole place is a fucking breeding ground. A breeding ground for the worst parts of ourselves. It’s nasty and terrible but we don’t have to be nasty and terrible and alone. So, if she made you think that you’re the fucked one, that you’re the unlovable one, then . . . she’s wrong. She’s so fucking wrong.” 

Outside, thunder rumbles and the orange lamps flicker, casting shadows like heartbeats, but neither of you care. 

Your lips are a dark purple tonight, matched by mauve smears over your eyelids. You look . . . ethereal. 

He doesn’t know he’s falling, tipping forward into the plush cup of your mouth until he feels your breath rush against his lips. 

Purple, like bruises, he thinks as he watches your eyelids flutter shut. He wants to keep his open, to watch the moment your mouths finally connect, but you overwhelm him. He’s not strong enough to fight back anymore, to pretend like he doesn’t feel anything for you.And, oh, he does feel something. He feels it so strong— wants it so badly— it feels like a physical weight in his chest. 

He wants you. God, he wants this and he’s wanted it for so long. 

Just this one thing. This one thing. 

The throbbing of the broken thing inside of him is quiet. 

His hand winds up into your hair as he finally takes you by the neck and open-mouth kisses you. You shudder as if surprised, as if this wasn’t an inevitable conclusion. His other hand presses against your jaw to steady you, steady him. 

The kisses aren’t light. They don’t hesitate. They are wet, and they bite, and it’s a little bit of teeth and tongue and spit. He licks the corner of your mouth and your tongue batters into his. His tongue rides the valleys of your mouth tasting like sweet champagne. That talented, fucking legendary Dieter tongue —

Both of his hands grip you by your jaw as yours burrow into the fabric of his shirt just below his ribs. He pulls back slightly to nip your bottom lip and he tastes that familiar caustic burn of whiskey. The first sip of alcohol he’s had in years and he smears it off your wet mouth.

“Fuck, baby—,” Mouth still sealed to yours again, he slips his hands down your sides as he glides to his feet. The rings on his fingers make indentations in that maddening bare patch of thigh. He goes further and swipes his pinkies under the backs of your knees as he grips your thigh from underneath. “C’mere—,”

You bite his lip in retaliation when he swings you both into a clear spot of wall. The nearby paintings shudder in the resounding thud but, short of God stopping by, there’s nothing that would pry him off you now.

Now that he has those hips under his palms. He balances you on his thigh, the wall at your back, giving his hands and mouth the freedom to explore. He wants to kiss you so hard you vibrate through the wall. 

He can feel his lips swell from the force of your kissing. They sting and ache but fuck if it wasn’t a brand new vice he could torture himself over. He is so lost in the relief of it — this is what you taste like, what you smell like so close, this is what you sound like — this is what awaited him for days in New Mexico, if he had just taken it — that he leaves his waistband very open. 

His fingers around the sides of your neck, he nearly barks out when you slide your hand down to his crotch and stroke. The angle isn’t right to give you full access, but your half-lidded, blurry desert eyes are begging him for more. 

“Fuck me,” you gasp into his teeth. “Fuck me, Dieter, please. That’s all I want. Please, fuck me.”

He’s too taken by the wet patch, dragged up and down his thigh, to argue. You roll your hips, eyes never leaving his, and he groans, deep and anguished. 

Your cunt is already warm. 

He pulls away from you against the wall and nearly stumbles back to the desk. He doesn’t know exactly what he shoves to the floor but there is sound, perhaps glass breaking, before he lunges forward, snags you by the hand, and pulls you into his chest. The force of his tug draws you up into his arms, knees digging into his sides, his mouth again inches from yours. 

Broken open, he finally opens his mouth to the stream of filth that has been rotting his brain for months. 

“I want you on that desk. I’m gonna fuck you on it every way I want to and then when you’re so cock-drunk you can’t see straight, I’ll ask you how you want it. You want it on top?” He grabs the hinges of your thighs, and grinds his hips against the front seam of your shorts, right into your clit. You sway against him, eyes fluttering, mouth open. “Or will you let me fuck you from behind? So I can watch this perfect fucking ass bounce.” 

“Whatever — whichever way— you want,” you say breathlessly, your tongue thick, as you lean your weight forward and he stumbles back onto the desk. 

The desk groans when his back smacks against the wood, your tongue and teeth fighting back against his. You’re straddling him, knees on both sides of his slim hips, and you’re chasing that crackle, that spark in your crotch. You rub yourself against him and air is expelled from his nose.

“Ngh— Shit—,” he pulls back to look at you. Your hair is a knot spawned from pulling and jerking. The purple eyeshadow still glows in the dark but the lipstick — oh fuck — is smeared across your mouth as though you had tried to take it off with your forearm. Because he’s fucked up, his already hard cock twitches. 

Panting to let oxygen return to your brains, he takes his time trailing his hand down from the dip where your shoulder meets your neck, down to the first button of that ridiculous, flowy blouse. The vest seemed like an accessory and he was grateful he didn’t have to pick that apart too. You watch his deft fingers open the first button, and then the second, and the third, all the way down to the end. 

He groans when he waves back the curtain of fabric around your torso and exposes the soft curves of your tits. You are surprisingly still and annoyingly quiet as he drags a finger, featherlight over the rise of your lilac lace bra. He dips his finger across your other breast and sighs.

“Wanna take my time with you,” he slurs. His thighs flex and you bite your lip. “Wanna open you up, bit by bit, so I can just slide right into your pussy. Want it to soak my pants.”

“I want that too. I want that so much.” You lean forward, letting your warm cunt settle over where he’s rock solid. He moans against your lips and you grin. When you open your eyes, he’s glancing at the door. It’s unlocked. 

“Anybody could walk in at any second.” You don’t want to give him ideas as to who specifically could, lest he be overcome with stupid guilt. If you didn’t rail Dieter Bravo tonight, houses were going to be burnt down. “We’d better make this quick.” 

Quicker is better, he agrees as he slides you off him and begins unbuckling his belt. You undo your own shorts and somehow manage to wriggle them off your legs while still in those heels. He can see the dampness on your inner thigh and he works faster. 

He shucks his pants down just off his hips. Quicker is better, he agrees as he positions you back on the desk, those audacious black boots hugging his waist. 

Quicker is better, he thinks when he looks into your eyes, your hand cups the back of his neck and your back arches to give him better access. Your other hand is around his cock, as he balances one hand on your hip and the other flat on the desk. 

Quicker is better. 

Because those feelings you both share, those soft gentle feelings that want to make love and not just fuck — are wiped clean from existence when he slides into you. Your face crumples from the first stretch of pain, roasted with pleasure.

“Oh, goddamn it, Dieter. You’re so big.” 

“I know, baby, just— breathe.” He kneads your hip in his hand, huffing and struggling to fight firing back with his hips, and lets you adjust. He’s only got a bit more than the tip in and sweat cracks your brow line. 

You swallow and shift your hips forward. Your pussy swallows up more of him and you both groan.

“You’re doing so well, t-taking me like this. When I haven’t gotten you ready.” He kisses your jaw. Your skin is fire hot. You inch your hips closer to the edge of the desk. 

“C‘mon, baby, just a bit more.”

He pushes the last bit of the way, his pelvic bone pressed up against your clit, and you wail, your head dropping back. The front of his lap is soaking.

He smirks at you, a wildfire cooking every sensation, every thought, every autonomous function that wasn’t required for fucking clean out of his body. He puts a wide hand up to your cheek and kisses your skin between his knuckles. 

Your voice is breathless in his ears, and it gives him pause for a minute. Your cheeks are flushed, mouth puffy and kissed-out. You need a hickey on your neck, or several, he muses to himself. This thing he’s been holding onto since he walked onto the studio lot months ago is rusting, creaking, and for once, he doesn’t want to push it onto someone else. He doesn’t want you to have it because he knows you already do. His affection is corrosive sometimes, but you’re just alkaline; salty, burning, acrid. He wants to melt into you. His eyes half-lidded to watch your face, his hand cradling your head, he pulls out an inch only to thrust right back in. 

“You’re ruining my life, you know that?” 

Flint flashes in your eyes as you nearly snarl, your hair fisting into his hair and tightening. It makes his neck arch back and the moan gets caught in the back of his throat. 

“You wanted your life ruined. You’re just using me as an excuse.”

Hissing, his hold around the back of your neck roughens and he pulls you into his mouth. You’re met with teeth and tongue and a press of his hips that stretches you out completely. With your teeth around his bottom lip, you whimper just like you did on the couch and he can’t hold back any more. 

He starts fucking you in earnest. 

Every brutal stroke is rewarded with a high, sharp cry — he makes himself go deeper, the nails at his shoulder dig deeper into his skin, and it sparks pleasure down his back. 

His hand at your face slides down to your waist to hold you as his hips thrust and pump and scorch the inside of your pussy with his cock. He brushes something devastating inside of you and you naturally arch, naturally bend to take even more of him. 

“Oh, fuck, Dieter— Jesus Christ, Dieter—,”

“Keep talking, baby,” he huffs, “you’re grabbing me so tight I think I’m seeing spots.” He reaches between the open materials of your shirt to mold and shape and squeeze your breasts. His thumb brushes over your clothed nipple, and you hum. The thought of his mouth on them drags his eyes shut. 

He pounds you, he chases that pressure behind his eyes, in his gut, he wants you to always remember who you make these sounds for. You wail again and his cock pulsates. 

He ducks his head and catches your mouth as he lifts up. It’s sloppy and messy and neither of you can stay locked like that with the way your bodies wobble. He aims and drops a kiss on the corner of your mouth. The hand on his bicep trails up to the back of his neck and digs into his hair. You hold him close, and your foreheads naturally fall together. 

He jerks you closer, grinding into you instead of thrusting, just to watch you shake.

“Dieter, please—,”

“Hush, baby, I’m gonna take care of you. Such good care of you and this pussy. Squeezing me so tight. This pretty pussy needed someone to take care of her.” 

“You’re filthy.” 

“Yeah, and you like to listen to it.” He’ll keep running his mouth as long as it takes to clear out the mess in his heart, in his head. He’ll probably never apologize for what happened in New Mexico and neither will you. 

He mouths your ear before rocking back, building back up to his earlier pace, the sound of the wet slap of his hips into your thighs implanting itself into his memory. The desk where he dragged you shines and he half-wants to stop and lick the wood grain. He shudders at the idea your cunt would taste like your mouth – whiskey-soaked and salty. 

You’re drowning in the taste of his hot breath. Sweat grows on his spine and under your breasts. A look passed between you and him that can only be given when fucking wants to give way to something more — when there’s a crescendo of feeling building just by looking into someone’s eyes as they enter you again and again. It’s intoxicating. You feel drunk.

He kisses your mouth again briefly before arching up, moaning. His hips stutter — less focused, but harsh in their need. Your cunt flutters around him and he drives in that much faster, rougher. He can feel your skin break out in goose bumps under the palm of his hand.  

“G’ –n’ think I’m gonna come,” he grunts, his breathing uneven and ragged. His eyes are squeezed shut and he knows if he looks at you again, if you give him that look of naked vulnerability, he’s going to cream for at least ten minutes. 

You nod frantically, pleasure bobbing up from the pit of your stomach to your aching clit. Words are near impossible now.

“Put your thumb — there! Ah!”

He watches you almost recoil in the electric jolt you experience as he brushes your bundle of nerves with this thumb — anything harder would be too much —  the pace only slightly faster than the pounding of his hips.

“That’s it, Dieter, you’re so good– you feel so good.” His knees buckle at the praise, at the strain in your voice. 

“Tell me, baby, I need to hear it–,”

You lean closer to him, breath mixing with his, and you press up against where his fingers press into your clit. “You fill me up so well— I’m—I’m so full— of you. You’re so thick.”

He pinches you and in seconds, your cunt is smothering him.

“Ah — oh God — Dieter!”

You’re milking him and he clenches your thigh as you finally tumble over the edge with a shout. The instant his restraint to make sure you came first is lifted, he comes, coating your pussy and emptying his balls completely of his spend.

His shoulders slump, the aftershocks of his orgasm making his spine tingle.

He’s got his head buried in the curve of your neck, a pleasant hum everywhere in his body. Your cheek rests against his damp temple. 

He’s not going to think about his cum leaking out of you and staining what is presumably his director’s desk. 

You laugh, almost deliriously, fighting to catch your breath. His chest heaves as his lungs gasp for air. 

“Fuck. I mean– wow– fuck– I– wow.”

He grins at that. He kisses your collarbone.

“Now, what to do about the crowd outside the door . . .”

He glances at you, questioning. You huff, trying weakly to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth, still struggling for a normal breath. 

“There’s no way every person in this house didn’t hear that. Fuck, I bet the audio is on YouTube already.”

He chuckles and finally has enough feeling in his legs to stand up straight. He noses your cheek.

“Look out the window.”

You do and are met with a torrential downpour. White lighting clashing, thunder roaring, rain slapping the glass. You hadn’t even noticed it started raining.

“No one heard a thing. And no one’s going to notice two people gone from a party of dozens of people.” He cups the back of your head and kisses you soundly. “They don’t know a fucking thing. We’re safe.”

You take his word for it and wrap your arms over his shoulders. You kiss him back.

You kiss him and kiss him and kiss him.

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Poker Face

A honeyed voice glides over your skin as smooth as the whiskey the bartender across from you is pouring into the glass tumbler. You turn to your left, enjoying the eyeful of salt and pepper stubble you’re greeted with, lifting your gaze to meet a wash of crystalline blue.

“I bet you use that line on all the ladies,” you quip, smirking over the lip of your martini glass at the man.

“Only the prettiest lady in the room,” he glances around then leans closer, beckoning you forward, “and that’s you.”

“I’m flattered,” you click your teeth with a slight shake of your head, “but alas.” Lifting your left hand, you wiggle your fingers and let the glint of diamond and metal catch the light of the bar.

He groans good-naturedly in response, placing his hands against the bar top and evidently missing the click of his own ring against wood as he uses the bar for leverage to stand. Pointing over his shoulder at you, he reports to his buddy, “Married.”

You stifle a laugh as he and his friend switch places, the blonde taking up the recently vacated barstool.

“How much did you let him drink?”

“One? Three? I stopped counting after I bailed him out the second time. Figured he wouldn’t want to remember this devastating loss in the morning.”

“Was he cheating?”

“Undoubtedly.”

“And he still-”

“Yup.”

“God,” you snort, shaking your head. “It’s ‘cause of his tell, it’s so obvious!”

“Yeah,” the blonde grins back, “he gets the little squint and the-” He demonstrates the ticking of his own jaw and you nod enthusiastically, exclaiming, “Exactly!”

“Hey, hey,” the brunette returns to the bar, slapping his friend’s back as he smiles apologetically at you before his mouth pulls into a frown directed toward his buddy. “Did I not just tell you she’s married? What’re you- you got hearing loss or something? I know you’re getting old, so-”

“Alright, you putz, that’s enough,” Danny grabs a hold of his partner’s left hand and holds it in front of his face. “Look at that. Look.”

“Holy shit,” Steve’s eyes light up and a faint dusting of pink flashes across his cheeks. “I’m married, too!”

“Three years and counting, bubba,” you take pity on him, gently tapping your hand against his cheek twice before downing the rest of your drink. “You ready to go?”

“With you?”

“Well I sure hope you’re not planning on going home with anybody else,” you laugh, sharing a look with Danny and relishing in the blackmail content to come from this evening.

“Wow,” Steve breathes out, “I did good.”

“Yeah, baby,” you smile and peck his nose, your heart warming at the goofy grin spreading across his handsome face, “you’re good at everything but poker.”

You press a parting kiss to Danny’s cheek and drag your silly drunk out of the private room even as he’s protesting about the game being rigged- again.

Obviously.

As you approach the Silverado, you pause to fish the keys from your purse and a surprised laugh punches out of you as your husband grips your hips and pushes you rather inelegantly against the driver’s side door, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. “Here we go,” you giggle to yourself.

“What’s so funny, hm?” You know he’s trying to be seductive, his teeth grazing your throat as he places open mouthed kisses along your sensitive skin, but you can’t help but laugh.

You hum, “Just you,” and you feel his lips turn down in a pout.

“Me kissing you is funny?”

“You trying to get into my pants right now when you couldn’t remember we were married five minutes ago is pretty damn funny.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes as you triumphantly snag the truck’s keys from the zippered pocket of your purse. “I knew we were married, I was just testing you.”

“By trying to flirt with me? Poorly, might I add?”

“Exactly. And I’d argue it was not poorly-” He delivers a sharp smack to your denim-clad ass as you climb into the truck, “-considering I’m taking you home right now.”

“Okay first, I’m taking you home,” you point out as he rounds the vehicle and hops in beside you, “and second, you flirting with me is so not a test.”

“Is too.”

“Is not,” you shove his shoulder with a grin before putting the truck in gear and starting your drive home. “I’m your wife, I’m contractually obligated to flirt back.”

“Contractually obligated,” he grumbles under his breath, unbuckling the seatbelt to shift closer to you in the cab and reattach his soft lips to your neck. He pauses between sucking lurid marks into your skin, sharing a few choice details about duties that he as your husband is contractually obligated to fulfill in bed tonight.

“Woah, hey, Commander Hoover,” you laugh, gently pushing on his firm chest to unlatch him from your neck as heat floods your cheeks.

“It’s McGarrett,” he pouts, head tilting not unlike your four-legged baby when he hears a high-pitched noise. “Like your last name.”

Your heart swells at the adorable sight, your body internally cursing you as you pull into the driveway, hormones pinging all over the place. “How can you be so cute and so hot at the same time?”

“What can I say?” your handsome devil grins, cupping your jaw and pulling you in for a kiss. “It’s a gift.”

[elysianslove]

shameful lust; suna rintarō

synopsis; he’s off limits in every way, but that only makes you want him more. based off of this, this, and this. the smut is inspired by my bunny anon’s birthday idea :) bunny, you know the one :)

pairings; brother’s bsf!suna rintarō x fem!reader

genre; porn with kind of plot lmfao

word count; 5.5k what the fuck??

trigger warning; age gap (not specified, & everyone’s 18+), masturbation, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, humiliation, praise, mini panic attack, link for the lingerie (slight nsfw warning)

it started off innocent, as most things do. you were sixteen when you first felt the butterflies nestled deep in your stomach, the drop of your heart, the heat of your cheeks, only around him. you’d thought it was a natural reaction; after all, you’d known suna rintarō since, quite literally, forever, and you were a growing girl, hormones imbalanced and thoughts as confusing as ever. it was normal, completely ordinary to feel as nervous as you did whenever his hand so much brushed against yours, or whenever he’d barely glance your way to offer a small, teasing smile.

it meant nothing, of course. you were just a young girl, sixteen, desperate to lose yourself in some sort of fantasy. a silly crush on your brother’s best friend was nothing strange, and definitely inevitable.

it would go away.

you’re eighteen when the feelings don’t go away, and when they begin reshaping into more— impure thoughts. the more you see of him, the more hyperaware you grow of everything that he is. suddenly your eyes easily find the small strip of skin revealed when he stretches his arms up, and suddenly you can’t help but constantly think about the way he sits, legs spread so wide as if to... accommodate something. suddenly your thoughts always find their way back to the way he’d hugged you goodbye, arms squeezing you so tight to him, allowing you to feel every ridge and ripple of his muscles, and the way he had ruffled your hair and his hand, so large, so easily sinking into the strands— and you’re left wondering what else his fingers could do in your hair, to the rest of your body—

it’s bad. it’s really bad. every day you try and convince yourself it’s innocent, and every night you prove yourself wrong when you find yourself on your stomach, face buried in your pillow and teeth biting down on it, mouth dampening the cloth as your fingers rub harshly at your clit and sink into your dripping cunt— all with his name falling off your tongue as you heave and cry. every night you think about how much thicker his fingers are in comparison to yours, how much longer, how they’d feel inside of you, curling within you. you know he’s dexterous, insanely good with his hands. you’ve seen the way his fingers fly across a keyboard or tap urgently at a gaming console. you know it, and it in no way helps in calming your frustration.

it’s bad, of course, but you live with it. after all, he is in every way off limits. a lot older than you, and much more experienced, suna would have to lose his mind before he ever thinks of you the way you think of him. what would a girl like you have to offer a guy like him anyways? your shaky hands and clumsy mouth? your tight cunt that can barely fit two of your fingers? you’d only leave him unsatisfied, and leave yourself utterly humiliated.

worst of all, however, you can’t imagine how devastated, how betrayed, your brother would be if he’d caught you fooling around with his best friend.

so although you’re yearning to say fuck all and fuck him, you don’t, because it doesn’t make sense in the slightest for you to do so. you continue to make due with what shirtless image of him or that time he slept over and went commando, waking up at the same time you had and his — his dick was hard— you could see—

fuck.

you need to grow up.

as you sit with your back to your headboard, your knees bent up and swinging slightly, two simple knock erupt on your bedroom door. it’s late afternoon, the sun’s brightness dimming slightly, casting your room in an orange glow. in all honesty, it’s soothing.

looking up from your phone momentarily, you call out for the person knocking to come in, your eyes returning to your screen once more.

“hey.”

at the sound of the awfully familiar voice, your head snaps back up and you lock your phone, looking up with newfound excitement at the man standing at your doorway. “hi,” you return with a smile, sitting up and crossing your legs.

suna smiles back, walking into your room with one hand tucked behind his back. “your brother said i’d find you here,” he explains, walking towards you.

you quirk a brow, curiously and amusingly smiling as you ask, “whatcha got there?”

he’s quiet for a moment as he walks over to your side of the bed, maneuvering in a way that doesn’t reveal what he has hidden behind him. you twist around on your bed, leaning on your knees to face him properly, and it’s just when you lift up slightly to settle comfortably that he leans down, bends over to get close enough to whisper, “happy birthday, pretty girl.” he gives you not another moment to process how close his face is — how close his lips are to yours — before the hand behind his back comes around between you.

tucked in his hand is a medium sized bag, not related to any sort of brand, so you assume it’s a simple bag he’d gotten from a convenience store. that would really only mean one thing— that he’s gotten you more than just one gift. you can’t see what’s in it since there are colorful papers stacked within it, obstructing your view, but you’re still flustered at the mere thought he’d even considered to buy you a gift. it’s not unusual; suna, every year on your birthday, has gotten you a gift, yet it’s usually more so a gag gift than anything. some inside joke of yours, maybe he’d pay for your dinner, things like that. never a full on, thought out gift.

“you didn’t have to,” you say, settling back down on your knees and hesitantly taking the bag from him.

he waves you off, disagreeing. “course i did; you’re nineteen now.”

you roll your eyes. “wouldn’t eighteen be more special?”

“fine,” he decides, playfully taking the bag from your grasp and pulling it to him. “guess i’ll just give this to someone else then— maybe your mom—“

“suna!”

at your reaction, he laughs boisterously, and against all odds, you find yourself smiling too. quickly, you reach out for the bag again, pulling it back to you.

“open it when you’re alone,” he disclaims, almost as if in warning.

warily, you eye the bag.

“sure.”

you try to be quieter when unboxing suna’s gift, but the paper’s scrunching is just so damn loud. after cursing it out, you finally rid the bag of its first layer of paper, and are met with a scented candle and some lotion. basic, expected. there‘s a card there too, and when you open it, there’s a note in his messy handwriting, reading out a simple happy birthday— and a good couple of yens too. money, a candle, lotion.

so basic.

there’s still more paper beneath, but you don’t expect it to be for anything except decoration, not for—

what the fuck.

what the fuck.

What The Fuck?

your two hands dip into the bag, reaching out for the final gift, grabbing it by its straps and—

holy shit, he got you lingerie.

it’s so— sheer? you don’t think an inch of you will be properly covered, even with the lingerie on. it’s properly transparent, with only the intricate lace designs to modestly cover you. when you dig into the bag, you find the panties to match the bra and— well, it’s pretty, you can’t lie. there are dark, almost flowerlike designs all over, and it’s a deep black, nearly blue or green. there’s also a garter belt, but there aren’t any stockings in the bag to attach to the clips. maybe he’d expected you to take care of that?— ah no, you stand corrected. there are stockings.

fuck, he thought of everything didn’t he?

but more importantly, what the fuck does all of this mean?

burying the lingerie deep inside the bag again, and making sure to cover it up with the paper, thoroughly, you place the other gifts and the card back in and on top, before putting it aside on your bed.

and now, to gather your fucking thoughts.

you had to text him to thank him for the gift, obviously. but there was no way he’d accidentally misplaced the lingerie there. it was deliberately placed, with the way it was folded and tucked neatly, underneath an extra layer of paper above and beneath it? yeah, definitely on purpose. but— why? had he taken notice of your feelings towards him? was this his way of making fun or... reassuring you they were mutual?

god, what the hell are you thinking.

snatching your phone from your bedside table, you check the time.

2:01 a.m.

okay, everyone‘s bound to be asleep by now. hopefully. you eye the bag, so cautiously one would assume there’s some sort of killing machine within it. you contemplate. shake your head. no. the gears twist. yes.

no.

yes. no. yes. no—

fuck it, it’s yours anyways, isn’t it?

you snatch it loudly, rushing off to lock your bedroom door, then rushing to close the blinds, tightly, surely, then rushing to turn the lights off and turning the small lamp by your bedside on instead. what else are you meant to do with lingerie other than, well, put it on? it’s rational, you think, obvious.

it’s fine.

stealing one last, deep breathe, you dump the contents of the bag again, and pick out the lingerie.

it fits.

it fits perfectly.

the bra is snug against your chest, pushing at your breasts but not digging in uncomfortably. your nipples peak through what‘s revealed of the mesh, and when they stand perky and hard, you blame it on the fact that you‘re half naked. the garter belt wraps tightly around your waist, not squeezing to the point of discomfort and pain, but not loose that it’s a nuisance, and the clips that hang from it are attached to a pair of stockings that stop mid thigh, squeezing at the flesh. finally, a pair of panties rest on your cups, cupping your ass perfectly. it too is sheer, and god— you can see so much of you.

is this— what he would‘ve wanted?

you can’t deny that you do look good. it shows your figure off appealingly, and coupled with some dark lipstick, your messy hair, and the slightest smudge to your day’s eyeliner— would— would he have wanted you like this? all dolled up for him?

is this what suna likes?

doubting the fact that you’ll ever have the courage to put this set on again, you grab at your phone, clearing the area before your mirror, then sitting down at the edge of your bed. might as well enjoy it while it lasts, shouldn’t you? posing in the mirror, you appreciate the way you look, the way the dim lighting complements the atmosphere, the way the piece hugs your body and shows you off. you look so good.

so good— for him.

reveling in this surge of confidence, you snap a good amount of pictures, posing differently in each of them, taking them at different angles. your camera roll overflows with them, and as you fall back on the bed, hair splayed out on the mattress, you smile proudly at the pictures.

do you look good enough for him to see?

the thought strikes you suddenly; it tickles at the pit of your stomach, makes your knees bend and your toes curl.

should you?

the messenger app is open at the text messages between you and him before you can think, a picture of you uploaded and ready to send.

should you?

you tuck your lower lip between your teeth, mulling it over anxiously.

no, you most definitely shouldn’t.

quickly, you swipe out of the messenger app, and onto safari. porn it is.

you should‘ve turned the ac on. fuck, it’s hot.

3:10 a.m. 45 minutes since you’d put the lingerie set on and had your mini photoshoot, ten minutes since you’d started masturbating. everything’s still in place except for the garter clips, which have snapped off of your stockings at some point in the past few minutes, but you pay it barely any mind as your legs spread wider, one hand dipped beneath your panties, the other pressing hard against your mouth, trying to keep yourself quiet.

it’s not that you generally had a problem keeping down your noises. your home was constantly filled with people, and you’re almost always sexually frustrated at the most inconvenient times. this time, however, it’s different. it’s different because you’re wearing a lingerie set that suna picked out, that suna bought for you, that suna gave you himself. would he have wanted to watch you touch yourself like this, dressed up so pretty? or— would he have wanted to fuck you while—

shit, you’re gonna cum.

you let out a broken moan, bleeding into a desperate son, muffled barely your hand. your fingers fuck into your cunt faster, squelching lowly as you arch your back, pressing your palm harshly against your clit.

“ugh, hngh,” you whine, squeal, wrist aching. “fuck, rin— please—“

you’re so loud, shit, shit, shit.

beside you, your phone dings! loudly, alerting you of a message received, but you can’t stop, not when you’re so close. it dings again, and again, but you continue to ignore, chasing your own high so desperately, faster, faster, faster. the coil tightens, your body tenses, mind hazing over and eyes rolling back— so close, so fucking close.

“well aren’t you a doll.”

your eyes snap open, and you only manage one second to process who the fuck and what the fuck before your hips are trembling and twisting, and your legs are shaking so awfully as your back arches deep. the moment you hear his voice, so deep and clear, looming just by the edge of your bed where you lay spread, fucking yourself, you cum— and you’re convinced you have a humiliation kink. you didn’t cum because you’d simply been close— you came because you heard him catch you.

in your post orgasmic daze, you pant deeply, chest heaving, rising and falling rapidly as you try to catch your breath. your fingers pull back from your panties, falling to the bed, sticky and wet, while your other hand falls from from your mouth, drool and spit dripping from the corner of your lips.

“aw, you ruined the set.”

you sigh. “rin.” the way you say his name isn’t in a way that’s calling out for him, but neither are you scolding him nor brushing him off for teasing you. you’re just simply trying to process the fact that he’s here.

“i like it when you call me that,” he admits, and in a second he’s falling over you, hands bracing and steadying him beside your head, keeping himself hovering at a small distance. “why do you always insist on calling me suna?” he wonders, head tilting curiously.

blinking slowly, you breathe in, and out, and ask, “what are you doing here?”

above you, he shrugs. “you were the one that sent me those—”

immediately, you’re pushing him off you, sitting up all too quickly as you reach out for your phone. you shakily unlock it, typing in your password and opening the messenger app. he’s right— shit. you could’ve sworn you’d deleted the photo, because you’d explicitly decided just how stupid sending it would’ve been. 

well, look at you now. 

“that wasn’t— oh my god, i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to,” you stutter, turning your body towards him once more, but avoiding his gaze, your body, only barely having just cooled down, heating up once more. 

“oh?” he tests. “was it not meant for me?” 

“no, i—“ 

he’s smiling all too wide for him to not be getting off on your embarrassment. at the thought of that, your eyes unintentionally snap up to him, to his crotch, where beneath his sweats is a bulge, and god, it’s like all those nights ago where you’d seen his dick through his sweats and he’s big, he’s so big—

“just where do you think you’re looking?” he sneers, hand all of a sudden gripping your chin, tilting your head back up and forcing you to finally, for the first time, meet his eyes. they’re dark, almost sinister, as they narrowly glare at you, begging you for explanation. 

your mind’s no longer clouded over, all pleasure dissipating from your veins, pathetic humiliation replacing it. “i’m sorry,” you mewl, eyes tearing up at the look on his face. of course he was disgusted. just as your stupid crush on him was natural, so was his reaction. “i’m sorry, please don’t tell anyone,” you beg, lower lip wobbling. 

his grip on your chin tightens as he furrows his brows. “tell anyone?” he questions. “about what?” 

had he not— heard you? 

he says your name, firmly, deeply, in a way that has you stifling your sobs and biting your bottom lip to stop its quivering. patiently, you wait for him to speak, to say anything, until finally, he asks, “do you want me to fuck you?” and your heart stops. “yeah?” he continues, his other hand reaching for your wrist, your hand, the same one that’s still sticky with the evidence of you. slowly, as he brings his lips closer to yours, fingers slipping so that he’s squishing your cheeks tightly, he leads your hand to his crotch, to where his dick is painfully hard beneath his sweats. your initial touch is featherlight, and he doesn’t fully press your hand to his clothed cock, but still, just the smallest, tiniest feel of him has the lust in your veins thrumming alive. “you think you’d look pretty—” he pauses, lips hovering by yours, eyes searching for any sign of hesitance or resistance, “sitting on my cock?” 

“i’m sorry,” you apologize again, but he swallows it by finally, finally, pressing his lips to yours. his lips are so soft, softer than you’d imagined and fantasized a thousand times over, as they press against yours, managing to pull the softest moan of surprise and pleasure from you. you’d forgotten, in your moment of shame, just how much you’d craved suna rintarō. just how often you thought about him, those same fingers gripping your chin to be buried inside of you, those pretty lips sucking on your tits and clit. “want you so bad,” you hiccup, kissing him back. “so bad.” 

he hums, amused, pulling back. licking his lips with a grin, as if tasting you, his hands leave you entirely, reaching for the hem of his shirt as he lifts it up, freeing himself of the piece of clothing. “don’t you think i know, sweetheart?” he teases, daringly. at the sight of your eyes widening, he nods with a dramatized serious expression, tutting as he adds, “so dirty, thinkin’ ‘bout me like that.” 

you whine again, hands lifting up to obstruct your face from his view as you fall back on the bed, body bouncing slightly. “stop,” you plead, not for him to pull back but for him to stop reminding you of just how wrong it is to feel the way you do. still, you spread your sticky thighs for him when he presses his hands to your knees, and you shiver at the feel of his fingers tickling at your skin. “i’m sorry.” 

“that’s okay, pretty girl,” he reassures you, faux sweetness dripping like honey off his tongue. he leans in, carefully slow, hands following the curve of his body and yours. “i want you too.” he smiles mischievously, leaning close once more. “so bad,” he mimics you, lips hovering right above yours before he kisses you once more. you want to pinch his arm for outright mocking you, because really, how infuriating can he be? but it’s impossible to want to do anything but desire him in every possible way at the moment, especially when he presses himself harder against you, hips slotting between your legs and clothed cock brushing against your dripping panties. 

“rin,” you plead, hands clawing at his back, grasping at his shoulders. god, his skin is so warm. 

“yes?” he drawls, wet lips kissing the corner of your mouth, trailing easily to your jaw, and down to your neck. patiently, he waits for you to speak. 

with a trembling voice, you ask, “be quick. please.” 

a little stunned, suna pauses his ministrations at your neck, but it’s barely for a second. because moments later, he’s grinning sinisterly into the crook of your neck, sucking hotly as he replies, “sure thing.” 

you do want to take your time. you want him to stuff his face between your legs and sink his fingers so deep inside of you. you want him to force your mouth down on him, want to bury your face in your lap till you’re choking and gagging on his cock. you want him to take his time stretching you for his cock before he sinks inside of you, letting you feel every single inch and ridge of his dick until he bottoms out. you wish. you wish. 

but you’re desperate, and needy, and frustrated, and most of all, you’re not even sure if this is real. you’re scared to blink and have him disappear all of a sudden. you’re scared to wake up with soaked panties and no gift from suna, no suna above you, hard cock pressing against your cunt, only the same suna from all these past years, the same suna you pine over at a distance, wanting but never having. 

so you whimper so quietly, “be quick,” again, because he’s still too slow for your liking.

his fingers grasp the sides of your panties, pulling as quick as he can, sliding them down your thighs, watching as the cloth rolls at the urgency as it slides past your knees, your shins, your ankles, legs lifted high up. at the final loop around your right ankle, as suna flings it off, he kisses at your ankle, gripping it tightly and using it to spread your legs. 

as your legs spread, your pussy, soaking from both your past orgasm and this unbelievable build up, spreads too, glistening and dripping for him. his eyes easily fall to it, and, with that same glint in his eyes, he grins, and licks his lips again. “wish i could have a taste,” he admits to you, shuffling closer and bending your legs closer to your chest with one hand. the other hand frantically pushes at the hem of his sweatpants, tugging it low, beneath his balls. “god, i’d have you sit on my face for hours.” 

he’s going to kill you. 

he’s going to fucking kill you. 

at his words, your cunt pulsates and clenches tightly, hole glistening as you moan. you hope he doesn’t notice, but he does, somehow, and he laughs, too fucking loud. “you liked that, hm? bet you’d look so cute,” he spurs you on, and your entire body trembles. 

you wish to say something, to find the courage to belittle him, degrade him, remind him that if you’re in the wrong for wanting this then so is he, but it’s so hard to find your voice. it’s like he’s stupefied you completely, reduced you to this dumb, wordless, horny mess. god, fuck, it’s embarrassing. you can only watch with wide, tearful eyes and quivering lips and trembling legs as he spits on his hand and fists his cock, quickly, getting himself all nice and slick for you. his cock is— he’s so big, fuck. if you’d been shocked feeling him beneath his sweats, well, your entire body’s rigid with anticipation now. 

just as promised, suna’s quick. with one hand pressing and steadying firmly at your lower stomach, right by your hip, he guides his cock to your cunt with the other, wasting no time by pushing in. no way, no way, no fucking way. 

how is he fitting? 

“ease up,” he orders sharply, forcing more of himself inside of you.

in response, you bring both hands up to your mouth, clasping them tightly above your lips. you remaining quiet is as impossible as ever, with the way he’s stretching you so wide for him, so you press down harder with your hands and throw your head back as he sinks in deeper, and deeper. 

“aren’t a good girl?” he praises sweetly, his other hand mirroring the one on your hip. he watches as you lower your head again, lifting it up slightly to look between the two of you at where he’s fully bottomed out, buried deep inside of you. “feel good?” he wonders, even if he knows the answer. your head falls back again and you nod with your eyes squeezing shut. “feel so full, yeah?”  you’re glad he’s speaking for you, because you doubt you could find your voice at the moment, even if you tried. 

you nod again instead, urgently, just as he pulls out until only his tip remains inside of you, before pressing back in quickly, thrusting into you suddenly. the sight of him above you is better than anything your mind has ever made up, hands squeezing at your hips tightly, both ensuring you keep your legs spread for him and keeping himself up, steadying himself as he fucks into you. his arms bulge and the muscles in his abdomen tighten and tense with every thrust. his chest, so flushed red; his hair, a little sweaty, a little messy; his brows, furrowed deep in concentration; his lips, wet and red, so fucking red, his tongue jutting out slightly as he picks up the pace, as he thrusts faster, harder. 

and best of all: the noises he makes. he’s shameless, fucking into you with abandon, moaning and grunting and whining for you, like he’d been the one yearning, pining, and not you. and, you suppose, with the way he’s fucking into you right now, that there might’ve been some truth in his words, that he’s wanted you just as bad, that this wasn’t some pity fuck— poor little girl, his best friend’s sister, sending him lewd and inappropriate photos because she’s so desperate, she can’t help but lust after him, every single day. 

his hands squeeze even tighter and he grunts, gritting his teeth sharply. “fuck, m’already close,” he grunts, and somehow, that makes your heart swell, pride deepening. “cunt’s so fucking tight, shit.” you’re making him say those words, you’re going to make him cum so quick, it’s you. you. 

when his hands crawl up to your breasts, squeezing and kneading through the bra, your hands fall to his forearms, gripping so tightly and digging your nails into his skin. “please, please, please, cum inside,” you beg, trying to be as quiet as you can. “please rin, please.” 

the bed creaks with the effort and speed of his thrusts, your body bouncing as his cock fucks deep into your cunt. his head bows in, smooth hair swinging forward as he curses. “are you— hm..hngh—sure?” he asks, and you nod so rapidly you feel dizzy, arching your back as much as you can to get him deeper inside of you. he’s a mess of curses and pants as he fucks you even faster, one hand remaining at your breast, grasping tightly, the other lowering to your wet clit, rubbing furiously, messily, clumsily. 

no words are exchanged as he desperately circles your clit with the rough pads of his fingers, squeezing and kneading your breast as he angles his hips, trying to get you to cum before he does. and just as as before, just as he’d caught you earlier, your body starts to tense up, shaking in anticipation as your orgasm draws closer and closer.

but there’s something— different. 

“rin!” you yell out, still half-whispering in an attempt to keep quiet. your eyes well up as you call out for him again, your orgasm unbearably close. “rin, feels weird— oh m—”

he only just barely manages to shove his hand against your face before you’re screaming, throat aching and scratching as you thrash beneath him. around his cock, your cunt spams and clenches down tightly, cum splashing and spraying all over his lower stomach and past his cock to his balls. you’re still thrashing, still squealing and screaming, and he’s spilling inside of you, filling you up impossibly, his cum splashing and dripping as it mixes with yours. 

“holy shit,” he breathlessly marvels, hips still rocking and grinding against yours as he helps the both of you ride out your highs. “you ever—“ he steals in a breath, steadying himself slightly, “—cum this hard?”

you’re sobbing, hiccuping and mewling and whining and crying, your body impossibly sensitive. tears stream freely down your cheeks as you sink into the mattress, feeling quite literally like jelly. slowly, suna pulls his cock out, trying not to get distracted by the way your cunt squeezes out some of his cum, and instead focuses on you, his hands cupping your cheeks softly. 

“hey, hey, eyes on me,” he encourages, kneeling above you as his thumbs brush at your tears. 

“m’sorry, ri— suna,” you heave, hands grasping his as your eyes water again, fresh tears joining ones that are yet to dry. 

“what for, sweet thing?” he asks gently. when you start to lift yourself up, he leans back, sitting on your bed, giving you space to get comfortable. he watches with worried eyes as you furiously rub at your eyes with your palms and the back of your hands, as the tears never stop flowing. shit, did he fuck up somehow? he calls your name again, cautiously reaching out for you. when you don’t reject his touch, his heart settles, just a little. “tell me what’s wrong?” he offers again, and you sniffle. 

“are you not disgusted?” you ask, voice wobbly and cracking. 

his brows furrow, and he cocks his head. “because you... squirted?”

you slap at his arm with a roll of your eyes. “no, suna.” 

“when did i lose my first name privileges?” he asks, dramatically shocked. again, you roll your eyes. well, at least the tears have ceased. softening slightly, suna sighs. he’s shit at this. he’s worse than shit at this. talking in general? awful. talking about his or someone else’s feelings? he’s sure the devil would be better comfort. still, he can’t just— leave you. he’s sure that would make things a thousand times worse.

and honestly, neither does he want to leave you. 

“i can’t read your mind, pretty girl,” he reminds you, and momentarily, you look away. 

until you inhale sharply, and meet his eyes again. “it’s okay...” you begin, trailing off as you attempt to gather your words, before continuing, “that i feel this way for you?” 

at your words, at the much needed clarity, suna sighs in relief. so that was it. “more than okay,” he promises you. 

you nod in understanding, before prodding further, “not weird?” 

he thinks it over, before answering. if he’s honest with himself, the most he’d felt with you was sexual attraction. he liked the way your tits bounced when you ran to greet him or the press of your ass against his crotch when you passed by him to get somewhere. he liked— he liked thinking about your body, your lips, your hands. it’s why he sent you that lingerie set, the one that sits so pretty on your body right now. not that he’d been expecting you to send him anything, and he’d even anticipated that you might feel disgusted, might throw it in his face and slap him too. but he knew you better. suna was observant. he knew more than he let on, more than anyone could imagine. if he hadn’t realized your eyes on him in the past years, he must be blind.

still, he’s not sure if it was ever more, or if it is more. but, he supposes, it’s not an unimaginable feat. he thinks that maybe, there is a chance. he likes you, sure; you make his belly twist and his heart jump. but is he going to risk leading you on? 

he doesn’t know. 

he settles for, “good weird.” 

your face is the definition of a question mark. “what the hell is good weird?” 

“your face is good weird,” he retorts. it’s a bad comeback, terrible actually, but his face is flushing a dark red, and he needs to get away. you’re flustering him and it’s pissing him off. 

“that’s so mean!” 

yeah, the devil would’ve been better comfort. he wasn’t around though, so he made sure suna had been sleeping over that night instead. 

worked in your favor didn’t it? 

end note; my godddddfhksfhbskjbsb ,,, sorry if you found mistakes this took me all day and im not assed to proofread <//3 but i hope you liked regardless!! 

[crohno]

HELP. [SHERIFF HASSAN/READER]

Summary:  Sheriff Hassan has his quirks  -  but he’s a benefactor through and through. Warnings: N/A. Prompt: “Can you please just give me a hand?” A/N:  Apologies for being slow  -  life’s been hectic for me lately, but here’s a short fluff-fest to make up for it.  I hope you’ve all been well.

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       “Hassan.”

     A smile slowly stretches across the sheriff’s face, though he makes no effort to reply.  Instead, he remains laser-focused on the radio, listening to the peppy weatherman drone on about cloud gatherings and potential rain in the evening.

       Life has been a hell of a lot simpler since you settled down in Crockett with him.  He used to face the days with a certain amount of resentment, trudging through his life as a second-rate civil servant with bitterness poised on the tip of his tongue.  Ever since your untimely–  but not unwelcome–  arrival, he’s felt a lot more normal, like he gives a shit again.

       “Hassan.”   

       You’re standing in front of him now, hands on your hips, his shirt draped over you like a blanket, and the glow of morning casts a heavenly halo around your frame.  You’re about the only thing holy in this horrible town.  To this day, Hassan still doesn’t know how he wound up with you on his arm.

       His big brown eyes flit up to yours innocently.   “Yeah?”

     Your lips draw into a tighter scowl, eyes narrowing all the more, and he feels the urge to laugh (even though he knows you’ll grow irritated with him).  It rumbles like thunder in his chest instead, his mouth puckering as he swallows it down like medicine.

       “Don’t ‘yeah’ me,”   you chastise, one eyebrow arching upwards as your boyfriend tries  -  and fails  -  to hold back a wide smirk.   “You put the chocolate spread on the top shelf again, didn’t you?”

       This time, Hassan lets himself laugh.  It’s a brief and sober sound, but its warmth is devastating.  You hadn’t been mad to begin with, but now you feel the complete opposite.  Your cheeks heat up, your lips curving upwards begrudgingly as he gets up from his spot on the couch.

       “I did,”   he admits, coming to lean against the counter, his arms folding coolly over his chest.

       “You know I can’t reach,”   you whine.   “Why?  Why would you do that?”

     Hassan’s lips quirk upwards, a charming blend of sincere and devious.  It’s no secret that he’s ridiculously tall  -  and now that you’re up close and personal with him, it’s also no secret that he’s the most gentle man you’ve ever crossed paths with.  Despite his quiet, private exterior, his aura is warm, and he has a penchant for jokes.

       “Truthfully?  I like it when you ask me for things.”   He hesitates before finishing.  He doesn’t fear your response, but he hates to think that he’s burdening you.  This island has done a good job of belittling him;  deep down, he knows that he isn’t in the wrong, but he still feels small.  Trivial.   “... makes me feel useful.”

       The answer takes you a little bit by surprise.  A mindless tease, you anticipated;  a silly little joke, you expected.  But a declaration like that ticks off none of the boxes your mind had so generously laid out for you.  You open your mouth, then close it again.  You hate what this place has done to him.  The people of Crockett don’t even realise how rotten they are.  

       Wordlessly, you make your way over to him, standing in front of him with a disapproving look on your face.

       “You don’t need to be useful,”   you say, reaching up to stroke his cheek.  His beard is scratchy beneath your fingers.   “You are.  But you don’t need to be.”

       He nods, though the understanding doesn’t reach his eyes.  Though you want it to, you know that there’s too much going on in his head for it to just fade away like nothing.  You’ll defeat those malicious brainwaves together, in time, but you can’t do it all at once.  Instead of dwelling on it, he reaches up for the jar, regarding your puppy-eyes with one raised eyebrow.

       You sigh, capitulating.   “Will you please just give me a hand?”

       This time, he gives way, handing you the jar with a chuckle and a kiss to your forehead.

       Sheriff Hassan has his quirks  -  but he’s a benefactor through and through.

[thefanficmonster]

Power Couple

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing 

Genre: Fluff, Humor

Summary: Sean, Felix, Dave, and Joel welcome Corpse’s girlfriend to a game of Party Animals. It’s her first time playing and she has to deal with a lot more than just the controls and objectives - her boyfriend being a cute, cuddly sweetheart with ulterior motives to his clinginess.

Requested by @susceptible-but-siriusexual. Thank you so much for your request! Hope I captured what you wanted and how you wanted. Feel free to send any other requests you may have XOXO

It’s been one hell of a day. Had to correct twice as many documents as I was originally supposed to at work; found my car with a flat tire in the parking lot as I was about to go home; argued with my boss over the phone while stuck in a traffic jam. It’s been a rough twelve hours, but it has led me here and that’s what I’d rather think about.

By ‘here’ I mean I’m sitting on the couch in Corpse’s recording room, my computer in my lap, my screen displaying the screen to the game Party Animals. The suggestion was Corpse’s. He immediately picked up on my below par mood and wasted no time finding a solution to bright up the remainder of the day, shadowing the shitty portion of it. I am not what you would call a gamer. Sure I’ve played Among Us with Corpse and his friends a few times. Even that I struggle to do because I’m internally fangirling over all the people in the lobby. Yeah, dating a youtuber doesn’t mean you automatically stop gushing over the many content creators on the platform you’ve been watching for quite some time now. Corpse knows how nervous I get so he’s always near me when we play with Sean, Felix and the other. All he has to do is give me that encouraging smile and wink of his and I’m good to go. Side note: massive props to him for going easy on me in Among Us, getting teasingly called ‘simp’ by his friends in the process.

“You’ll love it.“ He promised me over and over again as the game was downloading on my computer.

“I don’t doubt that, Corpse. But I am going in completely blind and I seriously don’t wanna embarrass myself.“ I mumble a quick ‘nor you‘ under my breath, hoping he doesn’t catch it because I’m in for a pep talk if he does. 

To my dismay, he does, “Listen here, you couldn’t embarrass me even if you actively tried to do something outrageous. Most likely scenario, I’d join you in the act.” He ducks in front of the couch so we’re at eye level, his hand coming up to cup my cheek in the sweetest, most comforting gesture ever. “We’ll show em who’s the boss at stealing candy.”

I can’t help but laugh, feeling unable to express just how much this man means to me. Words can’t do the feeling justice.

“Y/N!“

“Y/N!!“

“Corpse Wife has arrived!“

Hearing all the greetings lights a flame in my chest, the warmth spreading all the way to my neck and cheeks. “Hi guys! Missed playing with you!”

“We missed you too!“ Dave, the only one of the gaming gang I’ve actually met in person, replies to me, his words along with all the others’ wrapping around me like a comfort blanket. Despite them knowing I’m a fan of theirs, they’ve always made me feel welcomed, comfortable, nothing less than them.

“You know anything about this game?“ Felix asks me.

I shake my head, almost forgetting he can’t see me, “Corpse told me it’s funny and cute. It sounds like the perfect game for me.” 

“Oh no, this is a game of survival. Survival of the fittest!“ Sean shouts excitedly, a bang following his shout I can only assume was him hitting his desk.

“I’d like to think I’m pretty fit.“ I shrug my shoulders, laughing along with the guys.

“This is the only way to find out if you actually are.“ Joel’s voice comes through my headphones in the form of a tease.

Sean mumbles quietly to himself as he’s deciding how to separate us in two teams. “Guys, a little help here. We all suck at this game, it doesn’t really matter who’s in which team.”

“Actually...“ Felix trails off, “Corpse and Y/N are the ultimate power couple in Among Us. Chances are they will be in this as well. So, the only logical move would be to...“

“I’m taking Y/N, you take Corpse.“ Sean declares. “Joel, Dave, who do you guys wanna be with?“

And the game starts. Sean, Joel and I are the Meowfia while Corpse, Felix and Dave are yet to choose a team name. We throw around snarky, cocky comments at each other, taunting the opposite team as we struggle to take the candy to our respective sides of the map.

“Don’t you dare pull that lever, Dave!“ I launch at Dave, knocking his cute avatar away from the lever, buying Joel and Sean some time to steal back the gummy bear Corpse and Felix took from us.

“Y/N! Joel is out! Help me!“ Sean is freaking out now. I ditch Dave’s unconscious body and run to Sean’s aid. 

As I’m helping him push it towards out area a member from the opposite team latches onto my avatar, weighing me down and hindering me from doing anything.

“Hug!“ Corpse laughs as he has literally turned into a koala, holding onto my avatar.

“Corpse, you know you are actually supposed to hinder Y/N, not hug her. It’s cute though, don’t get me wrong.“ Felix laughs as him and Sean continue to struggle over the gummy bear.

“Nah, his tactic’s great. I can’t do shit.“ I desperately try and shake him off, “Babe, this is unfair. I can’t even be mad at you!“ I whine, staring to panic now that Dave is back to life and Joel is nowhere to be seen.

The round is won by Felix, Dave and Corpse who, if I might add, didn’t let go of me for the rest of the game.

We switch maps, now every man for himself. We’re on the submarine, recreating the Hunger Games with cute fuzzy animals. The thought passes through my mind, causing me to giggle.

“Y/N, you sound exactly like I’d imagine your avatar to sound. You’re so cute.“ Sean’s avatar circles mine a few times as he laughs.

He’s not wrong, my pale blue puppy is indeed cute. Apparently immortal as well.

“How is Y/N still alive?! Holy shit, her and Corpse really are a power couple.“ Dave shrieks when he sees me pick up the freeze gun. “NOOO!“ He shouts, devastated by the fact I shot him, sending him straight to his death.

“Chill, Dave. It’s all cool. Nothing personal.“ I struggle to hide my laughter, “No hard feelings, right?“

“Of course not, love.“ I can tell he grits the sentence through clenched teeth.

“Aw Dave, you are such an ice guy.“ I giggle, now shooting Joel with the gun.

“Someone take that gun from her!“ Sean cries as him and Felix race up the submarine.

Suddenly, the avatar of my boyfriend again wraps itself around mine. I hadn’t seen him in a while, considering Sean knocked him into the ocean earlier in the round. 

“How are you still alive?!“ I try to spin my puppy to get him to let go but he holds on tightly. “Babe, I swear, you are cute and I love you, but this is ridiculous. How and why are you alive?”

“That’s his superpower! He never fucking dies.“ Felix laughs, letting out a yelp when he briefly slips while climbing.

“Immortals!!! Immortals!!!“ Sean breaks out into a song, a song I really like, breaking the restraints I had on my laughter.

“Drop the gun or we’re dying together.“ He says almost seriously. Even though I can only see the back of his head I know he’s grinning.

“A Titanic/Romeo and Juliet mashup? Why not? I can live with dying a double historical death.“ Even though I appear accepting of his offer, I’m still trying to set myself free.

In the end, Sean claims his first win of the game and the rest of us are dead at the bottom of the ocean. Corpse and I did indeed die a Romeo and Juliet/Titanic death, getting everyone in their feels. We make a deal to get together and play again as soon as possible and we all go our separate ways, exiting the Discord call.

*Later that night* 

After a dinner consisting of takeout and two thirds of a shitty romantic comedies, Corpse shifts from next to me, starting to get up from the couch. I am surprised to feel jolted out of a half sleep as the room is now completely silent, the TV being turned off.

“Hey where’re you going?“ I ask groggily, rubbing my sleepy eyes.

“I have some editing to do. Don’t worry, I won’t stay up too late.“ He kisses my forehead before grabbing his phone from the coffee table.

Just as he’s about to walk away, I wrap my arms around his legs. He laughs, catching onto what I’m insinuating. His chuckle brings a smile to my face and butterflies in my belly. No matter how long we date for or how much time we spend together, some things never change. 

“Payback, huh?“ He asks, the smile audible in the question. I keep my eyes shut but nod, my arms still around his legs. “Alright, you koala. You’re coming with me.”

In his recording room, he settles in his chair placing me in his lap in a way that my legs dangling off to the side, my side leaning against his chest, my face hidden in the crook of his neck. We’re both comfortable, content and relaxed.

I don’t know when exactly it happens, but all my mind has registered is a quiet ‘I love you’ and the soft touch of Corpse’s lips on my temple. I manage to reply with an ‘I love you too’ before my sleepiness consumes me, my body completely relaxing against his, the warmth of his body, his scent, the sound of his breathing making me feel safe and loved: the two feelings I want him to feel with the same intensity when I’m in his arms.

Something tells me he does.

@simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios  @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help

[xoxo-teddybear]

Hickeys and Revenge - Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: angst, crack, swearing, fluff

Summary: Bakugou learned his lesson from his cheating prank but you weren’t satisfied quite yet. The man really almost broke you so to get back at him, you decided to pull this little masterpiece.

A/N: H/T means Hair Type!!! This is also related to this fic which you should read in order to understand the beginning of this story.

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

“Mina. Get your ass over here, I need you to suck on my titts.”

—

You couldn’t hold your laughter as you demanded your best friend to come and give you hickeys over the phone.

Not too long ago, your lovely boyfriend, Bakugou Katsuki, decided to pull a little prank on you. It wasn’t uncommon. You were the type of couple to enjoy a laugh every now and then but there was only one rule. No cheating pranks, no breaking up pranks. That was all. However, after being on a losing streak, your boyfriend decided to pull a little prank that very much broke the rules. In the end, he was also hurt but at least you knew he wouldn’t be pulling anything stupid like that again.

After that, you both went back to normal. You guys were once again happy, loving, cuddly, all the good stuff. But something in the back of your mind knew you weren’t quite satisfied with Katsuki’s punishment. You decided you had to feed the flames just a bit more to have your revenge. This ended up with you pulling a little hickey prank.

Now you were a prank master! You were skilled, smart, creative, and maniacal. Things had to be just right when it came down to it. That is why instead of using makeup like anyone else would, you’re looking for real, authentic hickeys. Since you obviously can’t have your boyfriend be the one to give you these hickeys, it would have to be your bestie, Ashido Mina.

—

“What?!” Mina laughed on the other side of the phone.

“It’s for a prank! Remember Katsuki’s cheating prank?” You said with excitement.

“Yeah. The one where he failed miserably and you ended up breaking up with him until you figured out it was a prank and you guys got back together after 3 days.” She explained.

“Gee, thanks for the play by play of me almost walking out of my very happy relationship.” You sarcastically replied. “Anyway, as revenge, I’m gonna do a little hickey prank!”

“Revenge? Girl, were you not satisfied with him being devastated over your almost breakup?” She asked.

“It’s not enough!” You replied.

“Not enough? Honey, he locked himself in the house for days. Eijirou had to force him to bathe and eat. What do you mean not enough?” She explained.

“Awwww, my poor baby. Look, I know he went through shit but he caused it! I didn’t get any revenge. I’m feening for it.” You explained.

“Alright, alright,” Mina giggled. “I’ll be over in 10..you fucking sadist.”

“Thank you!”

—

Time had passed and you were expecting the arrival of your best friend any minute now. You figured it’d be fine for her to be over for a bit because Katsuki was out on his final patrol for the week. After that, you’d have him all to yourself since he’d be home for the rest of the day.

Finally, after waiting and waiting, a knock was heard from the front door. You ran to the wooden structure and opened it to be blessed with the pink sight.

“Hickey time!” Mina said in a sing-song voice. You both laughed as she came in and you pulled her to the couch. “Okay, how are we doing this.”

“Uh, I don’t know- fuck this is so weird!” You joked as you both laughed again. “Okay, ummm, I think I’ll take a few on my chest and then some on my neck.”

“Okay. Should we have them like, trail up. Do you want me to go and make it look like he went from here to here?” She said and pointed from your chest to your lips, to which you nodded. “Wow bitch, you’re bold, wearing a tube top and everything!”

“I know right!” You both laughed. You layed back and pulled your tube top down to reveal your bra. Before you started, you pulled out your phone and started recording. You needed proof to show Katsuki that this was the work of your best friend and not some rando. Finally, Mina leaned down as you both released giggles and she placed her lips on your left mound. “What the fuck, this is so weird!”

You both laughed and Mina pulled her lips away as she began dying. You both turned red in the face as tears filled your eyes due to all the laughing. You both finally settled and she began sucking on your boob.

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” was all you could say as you laughed. “Wow, oh my gosh, your lips are sooo soft! Kiri is getting a treat!” You teased as Mina pulled off to laugh again.

She finally created the first mark and pulled off as you both took a look at her work. “Holy shit! There’s a fucking hickey!” You said like a teenage girl.

“That’s a fucking hickey, all right.” Mina said, proud of what she had done.

“What the fuck? This is really good!” You laughed. “You’re so good at this, how often do you practice? Is there a hickey on Kirishima right now?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Mina laughed. You both joked around a little more as she continued to mark you. It’s safe to say the whole procedure was quite comical.

—

“Can you like..make it darker? Like suck harder.”

*Mina sucking on your neck harder*

“Yeah, yeah. Harder. Yeah.”

—

“Ow! Did you just bite me?”

“Sorry! Instinct!”

“Ow...does it look bad?”

“It looks more believable.”

“Oh.....do it again.”

—

“This is weird...it’s like..hot when Katsuki does it though.”

“Okay, can you not talk about how you like it better when your boyfriend gives you hickeys while I’m literally swallowing your neck right now?”

—

Finally, after about 20 minutes of sucking and laughing, you were finally marked with red and purple hickeys. You looked in the mirror and were stunned with the work. You turned to face your best friend and high fived her.

Encouraging her to stay for a bit, you both spent some girl time together before she had to go due to Katsuki’s arrival approaching. After saying your farewells, you shut the door and jumped in excitement.

“Shits about to get real.”

—

You sat on the couch waiting for Katsuki’s arrival. Soon enough, the sound of his car door shutting alerted you of your boyfriend’s presence. You quickly covered your hickeys with your hair and went back in your phone to appear natural. Finally, after the sound of jingling keys, your boyfriend walked through the door with his best friend.

“Hi baby!” You said with glee as you got up and went to greet Katsuki with a kiss. He happily returned the quick peck and took note of your attire.

“The hell? Why’re you wearing this?” He asked, looking down at your tube top and spandex. You rolled your eyes knowing how he was whenever you wore clothes that exposed a little more than necessary around others.

“Because I didn’t know you were bringing Kirishima over so I stayed comfy.” You explained as Katsuki held his arms around you, grumbling about how you made a fair point.

After speaking for a little bit at the doorway, Katsuki made his way over to his best friend who had already made himself comfortable in the kitchen with a beer in his hand. The two were like brothers so it wasn’t uncommon for them to act this way in each other’s homes. While the two men were in the kitchen, you made your way up to your shared bedroom. You would rather have Katsuki see the hickeys in a private setting so that your upcoming argument wouldn’t take place in front of Kirishima.

Katsuki spent about 20 minutes down there with Kirishima before deciding to check up on you. The red head was fine with waiting in the kitchen and nodded his head at his friend when he decided to check up on you.

The blonde finally walked in through the room to see you sitting criss-crossed on the bed, looking at your phone. He shut the door as he approached you and you looked up and smiled at his arrival.

“Hi.” You said as you sat up a little straighter.

“Hey.” He said as he walked over and wrapped his arms around you before picking you up to kiss you. You both held the tiniest make out session before you settled to just holding each other, with your arms wrapped around his neck.

Katsuki joined you on the bed for a bit as you both sat together while still cuddled up. “How was your day, baby?”

“It was fine I guess. Nothing really happened. I stayed home, waiting for you dummy.” You said, trying to make Mina’s markings more noticeable. He still didn’t see them though.

“Oh yeah? Waiting for me to do what?” He smirked at you.

“Shut up, you fucking horn-dog. Waiting to spend some time with you. That’s all.” You said and Katsuki jokingly pouted.

“So you didn’t want me to come home and fuck you stupid?” He asked, pulling you into his lap.

“No. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to now.” You said in a soft voice. He chuckled softly before kissing the clean side of your neck.

“Maybe after Shitty Hair leaves,” he said before picking up his little pecks again. “I’ll do you just how I want to.”

He finally shifted over to the other side of your neck where the markings remained and he finally took notice of the work Mina had done. He paused his teasing and pulled away with a confused look in his face and furrowed his brows. He licked his thumb and reached out to wipe at the mark but silently seethed when it didn’t wipe away.

“What?” You questioned and Katsuki gently took you off his lap before standing up to pace around a bit. You walked to Katsuki in a “confused” manner before he stopped you.

“Uhhh...hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on.” He ran his hand through his hair, like he usually did in stressful situations, before looking at you.

“Uh, what- what is that? On your Uh-“ he said and tapped his neck. You went to your vanity mirror before turning to face him again. “Is that a hickey?”

‘Showtime’ you thought to yourself. “N-no. No, it’s not a hickey-“

“Then what is it?” He eagerly questioned with fear and anger laced in his voice.

“I don’t know, I was running and I fell and-“

“And what? You fell and got bruises?” He said looking at your neck and chest. He walked to you and pulled down your shirt to reveal the hickeys Mina left on your mid-chest. Katsuki shook his head and backed up, more pissed off than before. “No. No- you don’t fucking fall and get bruises on your neck and chest like that. So is it a fucking hickey?”

“No, no it’s not a hickey I swear.” You said softly, walking up to hug him but he gently stepped out of your hold. “Babe, babe-“

“Mm, no that’s definitely a fucking hickey.” He said as he chewed on his lower lip. “S’a fucking hickey.”

“No it’s not, I was using the H/T iron and I guess I burned myself-”

“Your hair is naturally H/T. Why would you need to use a H/T iron?” He said. You were stunned in silence but wanted to smile, appreciating the fact that your boyfriend knew you so well.

“Y/N are you fucking serious?!” He said, raising his voice a bit to show his anger.

“It’s not a hickey! I swear!” You said and walked to the mirror and he followed you.

“You’re fucking lying! ‘Cuz you don’t fucking get hickeys on your chest and titts randomly.” He said as you turned to walk to him, causing him to step back.

“I- I was using makeup and-“

“I swiped at it already, it’s not fucking coming off!”

“No I was like, I was fighting-“

“Fighting with what?!”

“I don’t know I just-“

“No, no! Stop! Can you stop coming towards me right now? You’re fucking lying to me and making up excuses. Those are fucking hickeys.” He said at a good distance away as tears began to fill his eyes. “Are you serious, Y/N?”

“....I’m sorry.” You quietly said. Your apology pushed his tears to flow as he dropped his head back and used his hands to wipe away his tears.

“You’re sorry? You’re not fucking sorry! You’re a fucking hoe that cheated on me while I was away. Are you fucking serious?” He said looking at you with teary eyes and a red nose. “Hurry the fuck up and just say you cheated on me!”

“No!” You whined. Katsuki laughed and rolled his neck as he wiped more tears before taking some random thing and throwing it at the wall, creating a loud sound.

“The fuck is wrong with you?! Did I do something wrong?! Tell me!” He said, shouting at you.

“No! You didn’t do anything!” You said, standing still.

“I must’ve done something! Or what? Are you just a slut that likes fucking attention? Is that why you’re okay being dressed like that around Kirishima?” He asked with an angry voice as he looked at your attire once more. He watched as you shook your head ‘no’ before his eyes dropped down to the markings on your upper body.

“Why would you do this?!” He said with a cracked voice as he openly cried now and walked to you. “I fucking love you Y/N! How could you do this to me? We’ve been together for years! I spent years of my life with you and you do this?!”

After seeing his tears and hearing his broken voice, you decided this was enough.

“Katsuki...” you softly said as you reached out for his arm. You expected the argument to go on longer but Katsuki seemed like he was heartbroken and done as he tried to walk away from your touch. “No, no Katsuki wait!”

“Get off of me.” He said trying to shake you off but you lightened your voice and coated it with giggles to assure him.

“No wait! Baby it’s a prank! It’s a prank I swear!” You said standing in front of him, pushing him deeper into the room. He turned around to avoid you but you only clung to his back. “Mina did it! Mina came and did it!”

“Baby, I swear!” You said, turning him around and keeping his front facing you

“KIRISHIMA!” He called out and soon enough, the red head came in, cautious of what was going on.

“What happened?” Kirishima softly asked in confusion. A quiet silence filled the room and all that could be heard was your boyfriend’s heavy breathing.

“I’m shaking right now.” The blonde said in your hold.

“Why?” Kirishima asked, looking to you.

“He thinks I cheated on him because I have hickeys but Mina came over earlier and did it.” You said as the red head walked into the room.

Silence filled the room once more as Kirishima inspected the scene. He looked at your hickeys, to your face, to Katsuki’s shaking body and teary eyes. “I don’t believe that.”

“You don’t believe me?” You asked him.

“Not really. I want to but why would Mina come and give you hickeys on your chest and neck?” The red head said with his hands in his pockets and head tilted to the side.

“I swear she did it, I have the footage.” You said pulling out your phone.

“No- no, this is fucking dumb. I guess we’re over.” Katsuki said and began walking to the door but you quickly pulled up the video and jumped on him. He wouldn’t turn and so you put the video in front of his face as he began to watch, alongside Kirishima.

After finishing the video, Katsuki crouched down to the ground and allowed his head to drop as he gave a relieved sigh. You laughed at him and began to hug his shoulders as Kirishima laughed in the back.

“I’m sorry baby!” You said. Bakugou surprised you with tears of joy and a smile as he quickly turned to give you a hug while he stood up and assaulted your face in quick pecks.

“Alright, well how the fuck do we get rid of these Mina marks?” Katsuki asked, wiping at your neck.

“You could do it with a cold spoon.” Kirishima interjected causing you and Katsuki to settle.

“Oh..oh yeah, you would know.” You both simultaneously said and laughed at him. The red head blushed and turned to the same shade as his hair before coming up with a comeback.

“You guys are just weird!” Kirishima embarrassingly joked before walking out of the room, laughing and going back down to his beer.

Bakugou held you in his arms and swayed you as you allowed him to kiss your face. “I’m sorry~”

“Baby, that’s so messed up!” He laughed out with a sigh as he placed his head to your own. “I almost fucking left you!”

“I know, you were so mad.” You said in a sad but laughing voice as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “But that’s what you get! Now you know how I felt when you fucking pranked me last time.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I get it, this is why we don’t pull these types of pranks.” He said.

“Exactly.” You pecked his nose before continuing. “I’m sorry.” You whispered before he placed a long and hot kiss on your lips. He picked you up as you wrapped your legs around his torso while your arms tightened around his neck.

“Aww, I feel so bad!” You whimpered as you tucked your head into his neck. “Are you mad at me?”

“No. You’re my girl.” He said with his husky voice.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

You pulled your head back to peck his lips and he did the same and kissed you back. You both went in for more small pecks before you pulled away the slightest bit to make fun of him.

“You got praaaannkkkeeddd!” You said before laughing again, to which he rolled his eyes and flopped onto the bed with you in his hold.

“I’m gonna get you back.” He said with determination in his eyes.

“You’re gonna get me back?” You questioned.

“Yup.”

“No!” You giggled out.

“Mhm. I’m probably gonna cut your hair this time. Maybe throw all your makeup out the window, I don’t know.” He threatened.

“Those aren’t pranks! Those’ll actually do damage!” You said.

“Mhm!” He agreed and you both just laughed some more. You made it up to him with apology cuddles in bed for the next half hour before you both remembered you had a guest in your house. Katsuki quickly got up once he realized his friend was still in his house and went to kick the red head out.

“Why’re you making him leave?” You asked as Katsuki stood at the bedroom exit.

“Because apology cuddles aren’t enough. You’re making it up to me in another way.” He said with a wink and smirk before walking out the door. You laughed and sighed before flopping down on the bed with a blush. With his leave, you mentally began to prepare yourself for the hours of rough make-up sex that was to come.

Tag list: @sxcker4you @aomi04 @tessabrown101 @ebiharachan @is-this-ash @iris-shihabi @sxturn-stars @isolight

[cegantheayugipi]

a glitch in the matrix - or crack(heads) in the abyss

A Genshin Crack Fic (Genshin x fem!reader x2)

Note: I have nothing to say, except for a sincere apology those who actually read this.

Lost? Here's the Masterlist.

Summary: This is a product of my insanity... I started a comedy fic, but decided that it wasn't comedic enough so I wrote this. It's a crack-SAGAU double female reader-insert with A/N and B/N instead of Y/N for the names. I know a lot of people hate reading in third person but how the heck else am I gonna write two readers in one story (I'm sorry).

Pairings: Zhongli x A/N, a Childe x hateful!B/N I guess.

About the characters:

A/N is a massive Zhongli simp. Her life revolves around Zhongli. She is pretty much a Genshin addict and has been playing for a couple of years.

B/N is relatively new to Genshin Impact. She's a little... weird. Definitely was a crackhead in a previous life. Totally no hatred for Childe going on. Definitely no hilichurl sympathy going on.

“Thank fuck we got that over with!” B/N exclaimed into the voice call, mashing buttons to aimlessly jump around the snow of dragonspine as Diluc.

“Yeah, dragonspine is always a pain.” A/N responded, her voice crackling across the call thanks to poor internet connection. 

“Is your brother streaming something again?” B/N asked, “You sound like a robot.”

“Probably.” A/N shrugged, although nobody could see it through the call. “Where to next?”

A familiar yet deep voice startled both girls as it came from behind them.

“You normally lead the way without asking.”

Both girls blinked at the same time. 

Why were they suddenly standing? 

And why was it so cold? 

And why was Zhongli standing right behind them?

“Oh my god.” A/N gawked as she stared up at the literal man of her dreams.

“Geo Daddy?” B/N murmured, frozen in place.

“Shut up, this is my moment!” A/N exclaimed, racing to hug the tall Archon.

“You two look different than I expected.” Diluc’s voice came from behind B/N. Her mouth dropped open, as she slowly turned around to see the famous redhead.

“Are we-”

“In this world?” Zhongli asked. “It appears so.” He looked down at A/N whose face was buried in his chest, and a light pink dusted his cheeks. “Is this a normal way to greet people in your world?”

His question went unanswered.

“Holy shit.” B/N blurted out. “I’m going to inazuma! Where’s my map?” She felt around her body, not used to these strange clothes she appeared in.

“If we’re going to Inazuma, we’re bringing Zhongli!” A/N responded cheerfully, still hugging her precious geo Archon.

B/N finally found the map, pulling it open. “Aha, Oni abs here I come!” Her eyes scanned across the paper and its lit up teleporters, and she realized that the entire region of Inzauma was dark.

“W-we were co-oping on my world.” B/N murmured.

“Yeah, because you’re still new.” A/N responded, finally turning her head away from Zhongli’s chest. “You’d literally die in my world.”

“We can’t teleport to Inazuma yet.” B/N added, her voice weak.

“We just have to take a boat then.” A/N shrugged, her hands still holding Zhongli’s shirt tight.

“M-my Oni abs.” B/N let go of the map, and it disappeared in a cloud of golden glitter. Her face was blank, evidently devastated by the fact that she couldn’t just teleport to Inazuma. She fell to her knees dramatically, then curled up into a ball on the freezing cold and snowy ground of dragonspine.

“Come on, B/N!” A/N exclaimed, “You’re gonna freeze to death if you stay like that.”

“No.” The stubborn weeb responded. “Just send me back home.”

A/N could see the sheer cold bar increasing on her friend, so she left Zhongli’s side to grab B/N’s arm.

“Come on, let’s get to this lantern over here to warm you up!” A/N urged.

“No.” B/N remained curled up on the ground. “If I die, maybe I’ll go back home.” A/N rolled her eyes and began to drag her friend through the snow towards the lantern, but it was really difficult.

“Hey. Can one of you guys help me?!” A/N shouted, struggling to drag B/N towards the heat source.

“I’ve got her.” Diluc spoke calmly, bending down to hook his arm around her torso and lift her up on his shoulder.

“You should be careful as well, A/N.” Zhongli spoke up, noting her status bar as well.

“Oh hahaha, yeah.” A/N picked up the pace to reach the lantern faster. The three of them warmed up by the lantern, B/N still hanging limp over Diluc’s shoulder.

“So, have you decided where you’ll go next?” Zhongli asked, and A/N sighed.

“I’m not sure.” She responded.

“I just wanna go home.” B/N mumbled. 

“How about you come to Liyue harbor?” Zhongli suggested. “It’s a beautiful place.”

“I would absolutely LOVE to!” A/N squealed, grabbing onto Zhongli’s sleeve. “Will you show me around to all the good places?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

“I have some work to catch up on at the winery.” Diluc spoke. “What should I do about this one?” He gestured to the depressed B/N.

“Oh, there’s no way I’m leaving her alone here.” A/N responded quickly. “She can come with me and my hu- I mean me and Zhongli.”

A/N could hear B/N’s muffled scoff from where her face was buried in Diluc’s back. “Okay, I’ll go with you. Now let me down, fireboy.”

Diluc’s face went pink at B/N’s nickname for him, not that she could notice from where she was hanging off his shoulder. He slowly set her back onto her feet, hesitating for a second in case she decided to just curl up in a ball on the ground again.

“Okay, let’s teleport.” A/N spoke, finding her own map.

“I’m not sure if you can-” Zhongli spoke, his voice falling off as A/N tried touching the teleporter in liyue harbor and nothing happened.

“How do you use these things?” She asked.

“I don’t think they work for you two anymore.” Diluc commented. 

“WHAT?!” A/N exclaimed. “So we have to WALK to Liyue harbor?!” 

“Actually, there’s a small harbor by the cliffs to the east of Dragonspine.” Zhongli explained. “We can take a boat after we descend the mountain.”

“This can’t be real.” B/N murmured, falling back onto her knees to curl up into a ball.

“Girl, come on!” A/N grabbed B/N’s arm once again, trying to pull her back upright.

“I give up.” B/N added, her tone completely dejected.

“Diluc, Zhongli, help me!” A/N exclaimed.

~~~

The two girls and the Geo Archon were finally on the boat headed for Liyue harbor. Diluc had to carry B/N down the mountainside of Dragonspine, but now that she was sitting on the boat headed for Liyue harbor, she finally began to cheer up. 

“Do you think the food is good in this world?” B/N asked.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me. Of course it’s gonna be good!” A/N responded, rolling her eyes.

The boat trip went faster than expected, only lasting a couple of hours. Before they knew it , the two girls were stepping out onto the docks of Liyue harbor.

“Okay, I’m starving!” B/N exclaimed. “First thing’s first, let’s get some food!” 

“We haven’t even gone anywhere yet, and you’re already thinking about food?” A/N questioned in disbelief.

“I know a place we can go.” Zhongli spoke.

“Third round knockout?” A/N and B/N both asked in unison. 

“How did you know?” He asked, mildly surprised. B/N and A/N exchanged glances. “Oh…” Zhongli spoke, understanding that you two were quite literally a part of him previously.

The two girls gazed around the beautiful Liyue harbor as Zhongli led them to his favorite restaurant. Well, technically they could have gone on their own, since they had seen the city so many times before.

“It’s so much prettier than through a screen!” A/N exclaimed.

“Oh my god, I want to start a business now.” B/N added.

“Wait, what?” A/N paused, looking at B/N in confusion.

“I feel like I should get rich.” She shrugged. “But I agree. This is way better than looking at my computer screen. Can we actually go inside the buildings now?” 

“I recommend keeping your origins a secret.” Zhongli spoke, his voice quieter than usual. “There’s no telling what might happen if the public found out about you.”

“Oh yeah, that’s a good idea.” A/N responded, smiling up at Zhongli.

The three finally arrived at third round knockout, and Zhongli asked for a table indoors this time. B/N and A/N exchanged excited glances at the chance to eat indoors in a restaurant in Liyue. In Liyue, in Genshin Impact!

Almost as soon as the three of them sat down, a tall ginger sat down in the fourth seat. Both B/N and A/N instantly recognized the man – Childe, the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger. Otherwise known as water boy, or sometimes referred to as the “menace” by B/N when doing domains.

“Xiansheng, who are these pretty ladies you’ve brought with you?” He gave a dashing smile, undoubtedly in an effort to both flirt and to sweeten up the conversation to find out more information. 

B/N and A/N exchanged glances. B/N looked like she was holding something in, and everyone at the table immediately found out what it was as she burst into uncontrollable laughter. A/N was quick to follow, as Childe had a confused and mildly horrified expression on his face.

“Childe.” Zhongli spoke through the roaring laughter. “These are two… companions of mine.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow, and A/N immediately stopped laughing to correct Zhongli.

“He means friends! We’re friends! Nothing more than that!” Her cheeks grew red as she waved her hands in front of her.

B/N paused her laughter for just long enough to cut in with a “not yet,” raising her eyebrows at A/N suggestively. They both immediately continued laughing even harder.

“I can’t with you!” A/N exclaimed.

“You never can!” B/N shouted back. 

It took a while for the table to calm down, and Childe finally began to get the conversation he was aiming for once the waiter came by and Zhongli ordered the food for everyone.

“So, what brings you two here?” Childe asked.

“Apparently, issues with my compu-” B/N paused, realizing she had messed up. “My competition.” She coughed. “I’m a competitive eater. But I haven’t been doing well.”

“Oh, a tiny thing like you, being a competitive eater?” Childe smirked.

“Watch it, water boy. She can eat.” A/N was quick to back B/N up. 

“Water boy?” Childe raised his eyebrows. B/N gave A/N a glare for mentioning his vision when they were meant to know nothing about him yet.

“Yeah, you make it kinda obvious you carry a hydro vision.”

“Oh, how observant of you.” He gave a fake smile, as gears began to turn inside his head. “Do you two have visions, perhaps?”

“Hah!” B/N chortled. “Bold of you to assume we have visions.”

A/N leaned over to whisper in B/N’s ear. “Do we have visions?”

“I think we’d know if we did.” B/N whispered back.

The stress Zhongli was experiencing was getting worse and worse as the conversation continued. Thankfully, however, the waiter appeared with the food. Zhongli had also ordered wine, and a second server came to pour glasses for everyone.

Zhongli took one sip of the wine, and began to say his classic line.

“Osmanthus wine tastes the same as I remembe-”

“But where are those who share the memory?” A/N and B/N responded in unison. 

“I-” Zhongli didn’t know what to say.

“You say that a lot.” A/N explained.

“Yeah. Don’t you have more stuff to say?” B/N added.

Childe didn’t utter a single word, only took a long sip from his glass of wine. Zhongli followed, taking another large sip.

“Um, we’re both a bit of a lightweight.” A/N spoke. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to…” She trailed off, watching B/N take a long sip from her glass as well.

“Damn, that wine is pretty good after all.” B/N shrugged, taking a second sip.

“Be careful, girl!” A/N responded, laughing. “You don’t want to end up in a gutter tonight.”

“I wouldn’t let that happen.” Childe responded.

“That would be even worse.” A/N’s smile disappeared as she spoke those words with a completely straight face.

A/N took a sip from the wine, but it definitely went straight to her head. She leaned backwards a little, and almost fell off of the stool. Zhongli’s arm was around her in an instant, making sure that she wouldn’t fall.

“T-thank you.” A/N murmured, looking up at Zhongli who looked down at her with a caring gaze. A/N’s heart pounded in her chest, and she didn’t know if it was from Zhongli’s arm around her or if it was from the alcohol. At the same time, B/N couldn’t tell if A/N was blushing from the wine or from her interaction with Zhongli.

“Are you alright?” Zhongli asked.

“Yeah, I’m just not very good with alcohol. I prefer Osmanthus tea, actually.” She responded.

“I’ll have the waiter bring some for you, then.” Zhongli responded quickly.

“Oh, you don’t need to do that…” A/N responded, looking down.

“Girl, you and alcohol really don’t mix.” B/N responded. “You should have the tea instead.”

“I could say the same about you.” A/N retorted, “Your face is bright red.”

“Hey. If you insult my natural complexion one more time,�� B/N began jokingly, and A/N began to laugh. Zhongli smiled at the two of you having fun. There was a strange feeling that filled his chest, like he was finally seeing something that he was missing from his life.

The four continued to eat and drink into the late hours of the evening. Eventually, however, everyone began to get tired and agreed to go home for the night.

“Where are you two staying? I can walk you back.” Childe spoke once he was finished paying for the dinner.

“Bold of you to assume I have a place to stay.” B/N instantly retorted, evidently drunk.

“Y-yeah, we only arrived at Liyue harbor today.” A/N was quick to cut in. It was the truth, technically.

“You are always welcome at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.” Zhongli offered politely. “After all, Childe is staying with us there at the moment.”

“Wait, you guys sleep in a MORGUE?!?” B/N exclaimed.

“NO!” A/N shouted back. “It’s a funeral parlor, where they plan funerals!”

“A/N is correct, we only arrange funeral rites.” Zhongli added. 

“So no dead bodies?” B/N asked.

“No, I definitely wouldn’t be staying there if they dealt with dead people.” Childe spoke jovially, his face also a little red from the wine.

“Can we stay with you tonight?” A/N asked as she grabbed onto Zhongli’s sleeve.

“Of course you may.” Zhongli responded as he gave her a gentle smile. A/N looked into his eyes and felt like she could faint. How was she still going so crazy for this man?

The four arrived at Wangsheng funeral parlor after a brief walk. The doors were shut, and the lights inside were off, since it was well past business hours. Zhongli opened the door and allowed everyone inside.

“What have you been up to, old man?” A/N and B/N instantly recognized Hu Tao’s voice.

“Ah!” Childe exclaimed, jumping. The lights went on, and everyone turned around to see Hu Tao standing by the door, her hand on top of the light switch.

“Hu Tao, it’s past your bedtime.” Zhongli spoke, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You’ve been out all day, and with these two strange ladies. Even Ginger came around looking for you and couldn’t find you anywhere!” Hu Tao gave Childe a menacing glare, and he gave a weak and awkward laugh in response.

“You’re even cuter in real life!” B/N squealed, reaching out to pinch Hu Tao’s cheeks.

“Um, yeah, she’s cuter in person, because Zhongli told us about his boss,” A/N began to ramble. “And he talked about what she looked like, so we’re only seeing what she really looks like now, and that’s why B/N is saying she looks even cuter now that she’s seeing Hu Tao-”

A/N was cut off by Zhongli who placed a hand on her shoulder.

“How about we all head to sleep?” He spoke calmly in his deep voice. “It is quite late, after all.”

“Yeah. I’m really tired.” B/N yawned.

“Did you think this through, old man?” Hu Tao cut in. “We only have one spare bedroom, which Childe is using.”

“I assumed I would sleep on the couch.” Zhongli spoke as he began to lead everyone upstairs.

“N-no, I wouldn’t make you do that!” A/N cut in. 

“You are guests,” Zhongli added. “You should be taken care of.” Zhongli gave a glance at Childe, as if the harbinger should be saying something to support his statement. The guest bedroom was the same size as Zhongli’s, after all, and Childe had been staying at the parlor for so long that he might as well be a permanent resident.

Something finally clicked in Childe’s head, and he raised his eyebrows.

“Oh,” He spoke. “I would gladly share a bed with one of you fine ladies.” 

“No thanks.” B/N and A/N spoke in unison. Zhongli laughed.

“Okay guys I’m going to sleep. Don’t bother me until morning.” Hu Tao spoke as she walked down the hall to her own room.

Zhongli got to his room, and opened the door. A/N and B/N exchanged glances, as if they were communicating psychically. Something was decided between the two, because B/N turned around and walked towards Childe.

“Actually, I’ll take you up on that offer.” B/N spoke boldly.

“Oh, really?” Childe smirked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” B/N nodded. “But you take the couch.” 

Childe laughed awkwardly, as A/N began to speak up.

“Uh… um… Zhongli,” She looked down at the floor, nervous. “Would you like to share the bed with me tonight? Together?”

“Are you sure?” Zhongli asked. “I wouldn’t want to put you in an inappropriate position.”

“Yes, yes I’m very sure!” A/N added.

“Is sharing a bed so soon after meeting a normal custom where you are from?” He asked softly.

“Yes it is, now just agree to it already!” B/N exclaimed as she walked away. A/N felt like she was dying inside thanks to her friend. Childe seemed to notice what Zhongli was asking about, and wondered where the two girls could be from.

As Zhongli opened his bedroom door and let A/N in, Childe led B/N down the hall to the guest bedroom. 

The room was plain, apart from a few decorations that gave it a signature Liyue feel. There was a couch by the left wall, and a dresser on the right. A bed was placed against the far wall, with a wooden nightstand stood beside it. The bed looked only large enough for one person, and B/N knew that person was going to be herself. 

Childe smiled to himself as he stepped into the guest room. As the ginger Fatui Harbinger led B/N in, he began to underhandedly interrogate her.

“Are there many things that are different where you come from?” Childe asked as he walked towards the dresser. He took off the mask tied to the side of his head and began to unbutton his shirt. B/N didn’t know how her clothes worked since she just appeared in them that morning, and the alcohol was definitely getting to her head so she simply kicked her shoes off and flopped onto her back onto the bed. 

“I guess so.” B/N responded.

“Where exactly are you from, anyway?” a shirtless Childe asked, as he turned away from the dresser and began to walk towards the bed.

“Isn’t there a couch right there with your name on it?” B/N pointed to the couch across the room as Childe stood at the edge of the bed.

“But isn’t it normal-”

“Couch, now!” B/N raised her foot and put it on Childe’s bare chest, pushing him back away from the bed. 

“Okay, okay.” Childe sighed, turning around and walking back to the bed.

~~~

Meanwhile, in Zhongli’s room, A/N was blushing like crazy. There was zero alcohol in her system at this point, but the mere sight of Zhongli taking the hair clip out of his hair had her entire brain going haywire. He placed it on the ornate vanity, and turned towards A/N who was standing beside his rather large bed.

“Are you sure you are okay with this?” Zhongli asked.

“Yes, please!” A/N yelped, staring up at the tall brunette.

Zhongli nodded, his hands traveling to the buttons of his jacket. A/N simply stared at him as she finally got to see his toned and perfect chest. There was practically drool coming out of her mouth as she took in Zhongli’s bare torso. Any thoughts or feelings about being teleported into another world left her head as her only thoughts became about the gorgeous Geo Archon.

 Zhongli turned to look at A/N, and she immediately realized she should be getting ready for bed herself. She began to fumble with the buttons on her complicated cape, but the clothes were confusing and much too complicated.

“Do you need help?” Zhongli asked.

“U-uh…” A/N trailed off, her face bright red as she looked down at her clothing. “I don’t know how my clothes work.”

“What do you mean?” Zhongli asked, raising his eyebrows.

“I just showed up in them today…” A/N explained, “clothes where I’m from are much more simple.”

“Oh, I see.” Zhongli asked, then he paused for a moment. A/N looked up at him, and tilted her head to the side as she tried to figure out what was going on in Zhongli’s head. “May I…” He trailed off, lifting a hand towards the buttons of her overcoat. 

“Oh,” A/N began to blush even more. “Y-yes…” 

As Zhongli’s fingers worked dexterously and gently, more and more blood began rushing to A/N’s head. Zhongli, the Geo Archon, the man of her dreams, was undressing her.

As Zhongli began to slip the cloak over her shoulders revealing her dress underneath, A/N began to feel dizzy from all the blood rushing to her head.

“Are you alright?” Zhongli caught her shoulders as she swayed.

“Yeah, I think I’m just tired.” A/N spoke.

“You’ve become quite red…” Zhongli noted.

“Y-yeah, that’s normal, all things considered.” A/N explained.

“Perhaps you should lay down,” He responded.

“Yeah.” A/N nodded, moving to sit down on the bed. Everything seemed so unreal as she watched Zhongli sit down beside her. The two of them slowly laid down on the bed next to each other, not touching each other. The two of them stared at the ceiling for a couple of moments, in an awkward silence.

“Uh, can I…” A/N spoke up once again. “Can I use you as a pillow?”

“Of course.” Zhongli spoke, and A/N slowly wrapped her arms around Zhongli and moved her head to rest on his bare chest.

Oh man, was A/N in heaven.

The two settled into a comfortable silence, and were fast asleep.

~~~

Read Part 2 here.

[teddy06writes]

With Ghastly Consequences

Part Two of A Dangerous Game

{I wasn’t going to do this till later but ThE IdEaS were flowing}

Requested by this anon: “I don’t mean to be a bother but if you could possible make a part 2 for the “a dangerous game” fic that you made? It was amazing!!”

and this one: “ Dude I need more poly Dream team with SBI family reader what if reader came back as a ghost but it’s like Ghostbur so she doesn’t remember everything?”

Sooo....

Dream x George x Sapnap x Reader + sleepy boys x sibling!reader

trigger warnings: yelling, swearing, mentioned character death (its you, you died in the last one)

premise: after your death, everything was hazy; this is an account of the events sparked by your ghostly return

(y/n/n)- your nickname

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You’d drifted, for a while, in a greyish abyss for a while, knowing that there was a choice to make. 

The void, though being of course, a void of nothingness, was peaceful, and gave you time to come to terms with what had happened, and come to the solution to the question. 

And as soon as that happened-

You were gone again. 

~~

“Philza!” 

The man froze over the brewing stand, the bottles in his hands beginning to tremble, “(y/n)?” 

“Dad!” You grinned as he turned around, looking dumbfounded, “I didn’t know you were coming here- when did you get in? Oh I can’t believe you finally came!” 

“D- Do you not remember?” His voice was low, shaking almost as much as his hands. 

“Course I remember- well I remember some stuff. Like you and Tommy and Techno and Home and- and Pogtopia- and Dream and George and Ni- Sapnap- oh- wait-” your voice dropped to a whisper, “You know how they were- y’know, my partners?”

Your father nodded. 

“Don’t tell Wil,” You said quickly, “He’ll get mad.” 

He nodded blankly again, still staring at you. 

“Well what's with you? Why’re you looking at me like that?” 

“Y- It’s just- your back. I- I was devastated- more than- when WIlbur- er- when you died. But n- but your back.” There was quiet relief in his voice. 

You nodded, “Course I’m back. Like you could get rid of me that easy.” 

Phil dropped the bottles onto the crafting bench, rushing forward in an attempt to embrace you. 

You shuddered as he passed through your spectral form, sadly mumbling, “Uh, yeah. I kinda pass through things now.” 

Phil smiled sadly, “Still, your back, come on, come on, lets go find Techno, he should still be around here.” 

You nodded, following him down that ladder, “That's what I wanted to ask, where is here? Why are you out in the arctic?” 

“Oh, uh, just to get away from everything, you know who Tech hates his governments.” Phil attempted a joke. 

“Oh, yeah- I wouldn’t want to be there with Shlatt either. Strange he didn’t just go back to pogtopia though.” 

Technoblade looked up from where he was sharpening his axe, at first his face reading confused, then guilty, the carefully blank, “Things have changed (y/n). People, change.”

“Like Wil? I rember Wil being mad about something- do you think- no it wouldn’t be that, I was careful.” 

Techno winced, glancing Phil’s direction, “Uhh, we- we don’t talk to Wilbur any more. Not- not since he- er- not since you died.” 

“That man is no son of mine.” Phil spat.

You looked at him confused, “What happened? Did you get in a fight?”

“It’s- not our place to tell you.” Techno said finally. 

“hmmm, okay! So what have you guys been up too?” 

~~

You hummed a tune, drifting down the prime path, headed towards L’manburg, toward home

Phil and Techno had warned you that things had changed since your death, but that didn’t deter you from going back.

Coming over the hill, you looked over your beautiful country, the walls, which you knew were gone, seemed to be partially rebuilt, and distantly you could see Fundy over seeing construction.

At first glance everything seemed fine, but as you got closer the atmosphere seemed to change, a sort of anxiety hanging in the air over the city. 

Slowly you floated up to the platform your nephew was standing on, “Fundy! You’re rebuilding the walls!”

The fox jumped, “(y/n)?” 

“When Techno said things had changed I didn’t think he meant Shlatt was putting the walls back!” 

“(y/n)- your- your back?” 

“Course I’m back,” You chuckled, “You miss me fur ball?” 

“I- you- your back?” He repeated.

“Yeah, what’s going on round here? Why’d Shlatt have a change of heart- wait- did we win? Did I die and miss us winning? Is Wilbur putting the walls back-” 

“Wilbur isn’t here any more.” Fundy interrupted bitterly. 

Your brow furrowed, “Why is everyone mad at him?” 

“Come on, lets get you too Ranboo, Tommy and Tubbo, they’ll-” He sighed motioning for Jack Manifold to take his place, “Well they should tell you at least part of it.” 

He led you down off the platform, toward the podium that still stood in the center of L’manburg, at your look of confusion explaining, “Ranboo’s a new comer. Uh- he’s- different, half enderman, we think, eye contact isn’t his thing, so be aware of that.” 

You nodded as he pushed open the door, “Hey- guy’s drop what your doing, this is important-” there was a small thud, “No not literally Ranboo- it’s a figure of speech.” 

You drifted past him into the room, smiling at the flustered looking enderboy, your brother, and his best friend, “Hello!” 

Tommy’s breath hitched, his lip beginning to tremble, “(y/n/n)?” 

“Hi Tommy! Hi Tubbo! Hi person I’m assuming is Ranboo!” 

The tall boy waved awkwardly, “Hi?” 

Fundy cleared his throat awkwardly, “Uh, I have t’get back to work. They’re- confused. I-” He gave Tubbo a ‘this is your problem now’ look before quickly turning and leaving. 

“Uhh... (y/n). You’re- back?” Tubbo laughed as if he couldn’t believe it. 

Tommy was still staring at you in shock, “(y/n)?” 

You drifted across the floor to be near him, “Tommy what’s wrong?” 

Your brother burst into angry tears, “I thought you were gone! I thought that he took you away from me! He- he fucking thought- that bitch thought he could take away my sibling! Just- just because of some- of some fucking-” He fell off into hiccups, tears still falling down his face.

“That bastard! He- he fucking killed- he- and for what? Cuase he didn’t fucking like who you were seeing?” Tommy muttered, moving back past Ranboo to sink into a chair.

“Who? Who didn’t like it?” You asked. 

Tommy let out a bitter laugh as Tubbo looked at you sadly, “It’s- nothing.”

“Hmmm, well, what’s going on here then? Did we win the war?” 

Tubbo nodded, “Wilbur- isn’t here anymore, he- he- sort of betrayed us, and we chased him out. So we’re rebuilding the walls, so he doesn’t do anything else, and me and Tommy are co presidents.” 

You nodded, but were still confused, “What did Wil do? Is it why Phil said he wasn’t his son any more?”

Ranboo gulped awkwardly, “Uh- from what- er I- uh heard, yes.” 

“hmmmm, I hope it wasn’t anything too bad.” You sighed. 

You stayed with them for another hour, talking about L’manburg, and the presidency, until Niki arrived, breathless, having heard you were back, “(y/n/)!” 

“Niki!” You looked over her, something seemed off, less bright, less Niki.

She glanced around the room, “How about we go for a walk, to catch up?” 

There was something desperate in her voice, and you weren’t stupid enough to ignore it, “Of course.” 

She gave you a strained smile, motioning to the door, “Let’s go then.” 

Soon you were out wandering through the city, many of the crowds were gone, though you could see signs of life in open windows, and small restaurants, “Niki what’s going on here? Something isn’t right.” 

“Nothing is right, not since we got rid of Wilbur.”

You looked up at the walls, now seeming to loom twice as tall as they once did, “Tommy and Tubbo- they’re anxious about something.” 

Niki nodded, “The whole country holds its breath. Tommy is angry, and Tubbo is paranoid. They think Wilbur will blow up the country, and that he’ll have help, the walls, the security checkpoints- none of this is what L’manburg was founded for.

“The people are terrified, everyone tells them something different, they’re waiting for the country to be driven into the ground.” 

You gulped (can ghosts gulp?), “Well that isn’t good. Maybe- Maybe- hmmmm, Maybe you should be in charge Niki! You- don’t tell the others- but I think you’d make a better president than any of them!” 

“If I could I would (y/n), but it’s not that simple,” She smiled sadly, looking around with a sigh, “Why don’t you go find your boyfriends? Have you gone to see them yet?” 

~~ “Georgie!” 

The King blinked, quickly pushing back the small sense of hope, he was just imagine things again, he thought to himself, he had to be. 

“George what’s wrong?” 

The voice was closer now, and it was the cold sensation at touched his shoulder that convinced him it was real enough to look, blinking in surprise again at your gray form, hovering next to his desk, “(y/n/n)! Oh my god! (y/n/n)!” 

You grinned, “George!” 

“Your back!” The goggles were quickly pushed off his face, dropped down onto the top of the desk, “Y- your really back!” 

You nodded eagerly, “I missed you! Well- I mean, it wasn’t that long that I was gone. At least I don’t think- anyway I missed you!” 

“I- (y/n) it’s- it’s been nearly a month.” 

You cocked your head, “Huh, that's weird.”

“George who are you talking...” Nick trailed off as he entered the study, “(y/n)?” 

You could see the tears in his eyes as you awkwardly waved, “Hi Nicky.” 

“Holy shit.” He muttered, “I- we thought you were gone- I mean- when- when Wilbur...” 

“When Wilbur what?” You asked with a chuckle, “Everyone keeps saying he’s done something, but no one’s told me what.” 

Both men froze, sharing a looking, “Don’t worry about it.” 

Nick quickly swiped away tears, “So your back?”

You nodded, “I’m back- hey, have you guys noticed how L’manburg’s being all weird now? Niki says Tommy and Tubbo are running the country into the ground.”

“Well- they’ve refused all foreign aid, we tried to offer them help- after the war, paying for damages and such after they sorted out there Wilbur problem,” George sighed, “And so far only Eret’s tried reaching out to talk to us, help with our Dream problem.” 

“Yeah, where is Dream? I miss him and I can’t ping him, cause ghosts don’t have com tablets.” 

“Even if yours hadn’t broken it wouldn’t help. He disappeared after Wilbur- did that thing,” Nick sounded all to broken for your liking, “He hasn’t answered any of our messages.” 

You frowned, “Well that's not like him. Maybe he just left his tablet somewhere- or maybe he just got busy doing something again, you know how he gets during manhunts.” 

“(y/n),” George tried gently, “He- smashed his com tablet, said something about going off the grid, undermining the server. He probably isn’t coming back.” 

You froze, hover in silence for a moment, “No. No that’s not true- he wouldn’t- he wouldn’t leave us! You’re lying to me! He loves us! He’d never leave! It’s not true! He wouldn’t do that! Your lying!”

Nick seemed shocked at the outburst, “(y/n)- we were just as upset but he left- gone insane-” 

“STOP LYING TO ME!” You exploded, “He wouldn’t do that! I know he wouldn’t! Your just lying!” 

They watched you sink to the floor, spectral tears flowing down your cheeks, mumbling, “You’re lying, you’ve gotta be lying, he- he wouldn’t he wouldn’t do that.” 

~~

“Wilbur!” 

Your brother flinched, he’d planned for this, he reminded himself, as soon as he heard the rumor's. 

“(y/n).” He stood up, turning to face you, ignoring how he’d begun to shake. 

He didn’t regret what he’d done. 

At least that was what he told himself. 

He knew what he had had to do, and he done it, and he had no regrets for his actions, because it was all in the plan.

“Wilbur what’re you doing outside L’manburg? I thought they said they chased you out.” 

“I missed it.” He said simply, forcing back the choked noise that had started in his throat upon seeing your grey floating form. 

“Did you miss me? George and Nick said I was gone for almost a month, that that was how long you and Dream were gone for.” 

“Don’t fucking talk about that man.” Wilbur spat. 

At your face of shock and horror at what you said Wilbur grinned, “Oh yeah, I know all about them (y/n). Them, and You, and everything before your death.” 

“Why do you hate them so much?! Can’t you see that they make me happy?! What did they ever do to you?!” 

“THEY TOOK AWAY MY SIBLING! MADE YOU TURN AGAINST ME! AGAINST L’MANBURG!” Wilbur yelled. 

Tears started to slip from your eyes again, “Wil, I never turned against you- your my brother, I love you. Why is it so hard for you to see I’d never turn on you? Who I love has nothing to do with it.” 

“Oh it has everything to do with it!” He laughed, finally managing to shut off the tiny part of his brain that screamed at him to stop, “You’re fucking dead because of it!” 

You blinked, “N- no! It’s not because of them! I died in the war! Dream was trying to protect me! I died so we could be free again!” 

“No (y/n)! You are so fucking stupid! Your dead because I killed you! I killed you because you were turning against me! Because it was the only way to get those fuckers to get there hands off you!” 

You let out a choked sob.

“And guess what? I don’t regret anything. I killed you so that they would suffer! Suffer from loosing you the way I had! And it worked and so none of the cost matters!” 

“No wonder everyone’s mad at you,” You sad shakily, “You’re a monster Wil.” 

“And I’m not the only one.” 

He sounded almost proud, gesturing his chin upward, at a patchwork of scaffolding as being stretched across the sky above L’manburg, distantly you could see someone in a neon green sweater running across the top. 

~~ “Dream, what are you doing?” 

The man only sighed at the serious voice, “Getting revenge. It’s what they would have wanted.” 

“Is it?” 

He finally turned away from the contraption, staring through the slits in his mask at the Spector that hovered in front of him, “So you really are back.” 

“Dream,” You could almost see the wall he had put up when you died, repeating, “What are you doing?” 

“I’m going to destroy L’manburg.” His voice was cold, steely, too close to that which you remembered from the day he and Tommy had their duel. 

“You think that’s going to make things right? You think that’s going to put me- my spirit to rest?” 

He faltered, “It has too. Wilbur killed you, and now he’s going to pay.” 

Slowly you moved closer to him, across the narrow walk way, “Clay why did you leave them? When did you break your com tablet? You knew they needed you.” 

“I- I had too.” The smile on his mask was all to haunting, a broken reminder of the past. 

“They needed you and you left them. You put them aside, for this? To be a villain?” 

“If I’m a villain then so be it.” 

Down below the people of L’manburg were beginning to raise alarms as you spoke, “They love you. I love you. You don’t- you don’t need to be the villain my love.” 

Slowly he reached up, slipping the mask off his face, “I know, I know but- but this is the only way.” 

Gingerly you reached out, hovering your hand right where it would rest to cup his cheek, “It isn’t the only way. You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to cause this destruction.” 

“It’s the only thing I know how to do,” There was anguish seeping in to his voice, “I don’t know if I can do anything else.” 

You longed to embrace him as he fell to his knees, “You don’t have to do this Clay.”

“I don’t know how! I don’t know any other way to make Wilbur pay!” 

“Clay look at me, look at me, there is another way- you don’t have to do this, We love you- we miss you- Nick, George and Me, we can just, climb down and go and find them and then run away together, leave this all behind!” 

“Keep them safe.” He sniffed, wiping away angry tears. 

“Yeah- yeah- we can build a little cottage, and plant flowers in the window boxes- and forget all about this,” You were phasing back into the material world, nearly by Dream’s sheer willpower as he pulled you into his arms, “And we can forget all about this, but only if you don’t do this.”

“I don’t know if I can... (y/n) I don’t know if I’m strong enough.” He sobbed. 

“You are darling. You are. You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to do this Clay, we love you.” 

He sniffed, sitting up a little, one of his arms reaching away, both of your breathing unsteady as you looked up at him, desperation in your eyes...

And then the tnt hit the ground. 

The world exploded into fire, ripping away his words: 

“I love you too.” 

[jungshookz]

cream a little dream of me; knj

➺ pairing; kim namjoon x reader

➺ genre; lveb!universe, you’ve been asking for this and i’m finally here to tell you that this is smut! nsfw! 18+! oral sex (receiving)! dirty talk! namjoon has a dirty mouth and y/n is into that!! y/n’s a great listener and namjoon is very into that!! also frosting is involved somewhere 

➺ wordcount: 8.9k

➺ summary; y/n has a wet dream about namjoon and yoongi just wants to help his best friend get laid. 

➺ what to expect; “it’s not a big deal or anything, but, uh... when were you planning on telling me about that nice little dream you had two weeks ago?”

➺ optional reading: here’s the link to la vie en bonsai if you haven’t read it yet or if you just want to experience the story all over again! 

                                      »»————-　☁️　————-««

to say the least, yoongi is… confused.

in the three years that he’s been friends with you, he likes to think that he’s seen every single one of your emotions

but this?

this is different somehow… yet he can’t quite put his finger on what’s so different about it... 

he’s seen elated y/n

he’s seen devastated y/n

he’s seen infuriated y/n

he’s seen stressed out y/n

but this y/n?

the starry-eyed and constantly looking like you’re day dreaming y/n?

he can safely say he’s never seen this version of you before and it’s a little concerning because now he has no idea what the protocol is 

even back when you guys were in university you practically never daydreamed during lectures

you were always focused on the professor and whatever powerpoint was playing on the screen with a concerning amount of intensity 

one time, yoongi put his hand over your eyes just to be funny and you nearly snapped his wrist off

“okay, seriously?” yoongi waves his hand in front of your face for the fifth time in half an hour before shaking his head gently, “what’s gotten into you?”

you blink quickly when you snap out of your little daze, looking at him and setting the bowl of batter down on the counter before checking out the damage you’ve done

you’re supposed to fold this batter

not whIP it

now it’s ruined and you’re going to have to start all over!

“i don’t know what that batter ever did to you, but you might need to take it down a notch before you sprain your wrist…” yoongi trails off, leaning over a little and wondering if he can get away with dipping his finger in for a teeny tiny taste

sure, he might get salmonella or whatever from ingesting raw eggs, but it’ll be worth it 

“also, what are you even making?” he frowns, gesturing to all the items splayed on the counter, “because there are like ten different things going on here-”

you look around the kitchen before reaching up to scratch the back of your neck

you... don’t really have an answer for him 

there’s bread dough over here 

three bowls of frosting (chocolate, cream cheese, buttercream) over there

some chopped up peaches on the cutting board

the puff pastry is de-frosting in the fridge

there’s a pie baking in the oven at the moment

you just finished greasing up a mini cupcake tin

and don’t forget about the bowl of batter you’re currently whipping the life out of

(let the record show that you have no idea what you’re making. you have no clue what this batter is for. and why’d you take out your set of food-colouring dye??) 

you just needed to let off some steam and this is the only way you know hoW

“isn’t this great? working out in the comfort of my own personal gym…”

both you and yoongi look over towards the kitchen door when you hear jin’s voice ring through namjoon’s laptop from the living room

yoongi perks up in interest when you suddenly scurry over to spy at namjoon through the crack of the door before he gets up to follow you 

“yeah, easy for you to say-” namjoon grunts as he pushes himself up off the ground so he can clap his hands together quickly before his palms land back on the ground in a solid thump

he thought push-ups were already awful as is so he wasn’t very pleased when jin told him to start doing them with claps in between each set

also, jin has access to a full-blown gym in his house, but namjoon doesn’t have any access to actual weights so he’s had to resort to using jugs of water instead

it’s actually working out pretty well!

he took the sweeper part of the broom off and then used a lot of duct tape (and patience) to tape the jugs to both sides of the pole

he felt like he was mulan from that one part of the movie except mulan is probably physically stronger than him 

“you know, i’m surprised he hasn’t smashed his face against the floor yet...” yoongi snorts as he continues to peer at namjoon over your shoulder

he waits a couple seconds for you to respond but frowns when you let out a short little sigh while keeping your eyes glued on your sweaty boyfriend

...

see?!

you’re doing it again!!!!  

you have your bottom lip tucked in between your teeth and your eyes have gone all lidded and hazy

your grip around the edge of the door is really tight and your knuckles are going kind of white 

good god

yoongi narrows his eyes suspiciously before jabbing your shoulder roughly, “hey. what are you thinking about?”

you shake your head a little too quickly for his liking before turning back around and brushing past him to get back to the counter

huh

okay

something’s up for sure

he doesn’t know if it’s good or bad or whatever but he’s going to find out

your cheeks and the tips of your ears are a little flushed now which is even more interesting

what could possibly be going on in that little noggin of yours?

“tell me what you were thinking about.” yoongi sits back down on the stool as he stares you down across the counter, “y/n- look at me.”

“i’m not-” you glance up at yoongi for a quick second before looking back down, “nothing!” you mutter, your arm starting to move faster as you continue whipping the mystery batter 

yoongi immediately points to the ball of dough sitting a couple feet away from him, “tell me what you were thinking about or i’ll eat that ball of raw dough right noW-”

“-!” you set the bowl down before scrambling to move the dough out of yoongi’s reach

he’s eaten raw dough before (it was raw cookie dough and he took bites of it every time you turned to face away from him) which resulted in him suffering for like 48 hours and you’re not taking any chances

“you can’t keep secrets from me.” yoongi deadpans, “aren’t we best friends? don’t you trust me?” he bats his lashes at you before pushing his bottom lip out in a pout, “because i certainly trust you… and you, out of all people, should know how hard it is for me to trust someone…”

your eye twitches 

you know he’s only saying all of this to butter you up so that you’ll inevitably give in and tell him what’s going on... and you hate that it’s actually working... 

look at that face!

those cheeks!!!

those eyes!!!!

“i…” you trail off, biting the inside of your cheek as you contemplate whether it’s a good idea or not to tell yoongi what exactly’s been going on with you lately 

if you tell him, he’ll stop bugging you about it

then again, if you tell him, he might keep bugging you about it 

but he’s already suspicious of you so it seems like you don’t really have a choice...

this is really a lose-lose situation, if you think about it 

...damn. 

“hey, do you remember that time you were crying really hard and i made you feel better by telling you that i kind of sort of loved you...?” yoongi mentions casually while inspecting his nail beds, his eyes flickering up towards your face for a quick second to see your reaction 

he bites back a smirk of success when he hears you let out a sigh 

ha HA 

hook, line, and sinker bABY 

“okay, fine, but-” you slam the bowl down on the counter before placing your hands on your hips, ”it’s a secret. between us!” you gesture for him to come over to you

“god, finally-!” yoongi nods enthusiastically and hops off the stool before scurrying over to join you at the other side of the counter

you lift your hand up so the side of your mouth is covered and yoongi reaches up to wrap his fingers around your wrist, grinning excitedly as you whisper something into his ear 

…

…

…

yoongi’s jaw drops

holy shit

no wonder he hasn’t seen you act like this before! 

this isn’t elated y/n or disappointed y/n or excited y/n 

a new player has entered the ring

this is HORNY Y/N

“you… little… horndog!” yoongi cackles with glee as he claps his hands together wildly, “you, y/n y/l/n- you had a wet dream?!” 

you feel your anxiety spike at how loud yoongi’s being and you make a gesture to try to get him to use his inside voice but he doesn’t seem to be paying any attention to you at all right now 

“wow...” yoongi laughs lightly, crossing his arms as he looks up towards the ceiling, “i mean, welcome to puberty, i guess. a bit of a late start if you ask me, but either way i’m actually pretty proud of you for basically creaming your-”

“shh!” you quickly shove a spoon into yoongi’s mouth and he spits it out immediately

it falls onto the counter with a clang

to be honest, you actually don’t remember too much of the dream

flashes of namjoon’s head in between your legs and his strong arms wrapped around your thighs pinning you down pop into your mind every now and again to taunt you

but other than that

nothing!

it’s just that joon’s been working out a lot lately (jin’s trying to get in better shape because of one photo where the shadow made it look like he had a double chin and it traumatised him) so it makes sense that he’s turning into an actual beefcake now 

the other day you accidentally busted a bag of icing in your hands after squeezing it too hard because you were watching namjoon doing bicep curls with the milk jugs 

his arms just….,,. 

you want to bite into them

or dig your nails into them

or just look at them!

you would be perfectly content with just staring at them 24/7!

now, the issue here is that you...

you don’t really know…

you don’t know how to initiate things with namjoon

it’s awkward!

…on your end, that is

since getting together, you and namjoon have had plenty of heated make-out (and slight groping) sessions but you always end up chickening out as soon as you feel things starting to escalate 

you just get nervous that you’re going to do something wrong and it’ll pop the love-bubble you guys are in right now!! 

and you really don’t want to pop anything!! 

and namjoon, being the sweet, kind, caring, considerate, wonderful, absolutely flawless boy he is, never has an issue with it because his number one priority is making sure that you’re comfortable

he’s totally okay with moving at your pace! 

but after the last couple of times where you’ve left him high and dry, you notice that he either a) puts a pillow over his lap almost immediately and tries to change the subject or b) waddles off to the bathroom for a ‘pee break’

you feel awful knowing that you’re blue-balling him but you don’t want to take things further if there’s even a slight possibility of you ruining things 

so... yeah! 

your only stress reliever has been baking which isn’t new

you’ve stress baked before but this is a nEW type of stress baking

this is the most chaotic level of stress baking there is because everything’s just a disorganised MESS  

“you know what, it actually makes sense now,” yoongi reaches up to stroke his chin in thought before nodding to himself, “you’ve been acting so weird lately that i thought i did something wrong- and it turns out you’ve just been excruciatingly horny this entire time-”

“lower your voice!” you hiss, hurrying over to the door to make sure namjoon’s not listening in to what should be a private conversation if yoongi wasn’t so damn loud 

he may be in the living room but who knows how far your voices can travel??

you peek out to look at poor namjoon who looks like he’s just about ready to pass ouT from exhaustion

he lets out an almost animalistic growl as he pushes himself up off the ground one last time and you feel a tingle in your southern region

if you were a cartoon character there would be gigantic hearts pumping out of your eyes, your tongue would roll out of your mouth like a red carpet, and a horn would be blasting aooga in the background 

“okay, well - you can’t not tell me about what happened in it.” you turn back around to face yoongi, “give me all the details!!!!” he wiggles his brows as he leans down and folds him arms atop the counter, “and get real nasty with it because i haven’t had sex in months-” 

“no way!” you scoff before crossing one arm over the other to make an ‘x’ sign at yoongi, “no! i don’t remember anything.”

“you’re lying to me.” the smile on yoongi’s face drops and he scowls at you, “you totally are!”

“am not! it’s true.” you chirp, nodding satisfactorily when yoongi doesn’t respond

good 

the topic has been dropped and now you can focus your attention back on this weird, runny batter you’re still beating the life out of 

“...what about if i guess?”

you pause

oh

oh no

you don’t like that idea at all

you don’t get a chance to shake your head nO before yoongi starts listing out all your possible wet-dream scenarios

“he was finger-fucking you.”

“you were sucking him off?”

“he was eating you out!”

“69? you on top? or was it him on top? …no, it was probably you on to-”

“a classy combination of tongue and fingers? ooh, quick question- how quickly did dreamjoon find your g-spo-”

“missionary! can’t go wrong with good ol’ fashioned missio-”

“doggystyle? cowgirl! reverse cowgirl? or was he kind of, like, spooning you from behi-”

“ooh! plot twist! you gave him the strap-”

“butt-stuff! butt-stuff?? butt-stuff but the plug had a tail on- oh-ho, it was butt-stuff, wasn’t it-”

“something with a belt? something with cuffs? something with leather?”

“roleplaying! he was a sexy gardener with a big ol’ hose and you were just an innocent wittle twree-”

“was he rawdogging you?”

your eyes immediately widen and you look up at yoongi for the first time since he started rambling, “wha- WHAT is that?!”

rawdogging??

that sounds like it’d give you carpet burn for some reason 

“sex without a condom.” yoongi states as if it’s the most obvious fact in the entire world, “duh.”

god

boys are so

boyish!!!!

“why not just say that instead??” you ask incredulously, tilting your head

yoongi snorts, “well, because rawdogging sounds way hotter-”

your face screws up immediately, “does it really, though…?”

yoongi pauses before his face lights up, “aha! so dreamjoon WAS rawdogging y-”

“crude!” your entire face is bright red at this point and you hurry over to the fridge to grab a bag of frozen blueberries out of the freezer (for what purposes? you have no idea.)

“you think i’m being crude?” yoongi scoffs, “i think you’re being a prude. okay, lemme see what else i can think of-”

“yoongi, literally no one asked you to list-” 

“were you grinding on his-” yoongi pauses again, “you know, like dry humping?” he hums before pushing himself up off the counter and placing both his palms flat on the surface of it, “i mean, i guess i can see why that’d be hot, you know, with clothes being restrictive and all- oh! were you getting off on his thigh? because a couple of girls have done that to me before and it was actually pretty hot AND since namjoon’s dna consists of 80% plant he basically has tree trunk thighs-”

“okay, i don’t remember too much-” you grab yoongi by the arm to yank him back in so you can whisper in his ear again

yoongi listens attentively 

…

…

…

you clear your throat before shoving yoongi away to make it seem less suspicious if namjoon just so happens to come into the kitchen at this very moment 

“surprisingly simple, but it does the trick, that’s for sure…” yoongi hums as he strokes his chin thoughtfully, “damn. i hyped it up way too much. that’s actually a pretty boring dream compared to what i’ve dreamt about, now that i think about it-”

you can’t help but roll your eyes as you open up the bag of blueberries

…what did you pull these out for again?

“well, what’s the problem?” yoongi frowns, “you guys are already dating. just go up to him and ask him if he wants to do stuff. if a girl told me that she creamed her panties because of me, i’d be ecstatic!”

“stop saying it like that-”

you feel a little weird talking about this with yoongi

he’s always been comfortable telling you about his sex life but you prefer to keep your intimate details private

it’s not that you don’t trust him or anything, because obviously you do, but… you’d feel more comfortable if you talked about this with a girl-friend, you know?

guys just don’t understand! 

“i don’t know how to…” you shift in your spot, “ask.”

yoongi scoffs in response and crosses his arms, “y/n- namjoon is a man. men are simple. do you remember the other week when you invited me over for a breakfast and you dropped the spatula on the floor?”

you nod before tilting your head curiously, “…why?”

yoongi clears his throat

now he’S the one who looks slightly uncomfortable

“well...” he clears his throat, “namjoon was wearing sweats and i swear i wasn’t purposely looking- my eyes just happened to be looking downwards in that general direction naturally-”

“yoongi-”

“the man’s dick twitched in his sweats when you bent over, alright?” yoongi blurts out and your eyes immediately widen, “my point is: men are simple- painfully simple creatures. so... just ask him!”

you frown

just ask him??

was he even listening to you??

you just told yoongi you didn’t know how to ask namjoon and his advice was for you to ask namjoon

that’s like taking someone who doesn’t know how to swim and immediately tossing them into the OCEAN with a punctured life-ring

“god,” you roll your eyes before flicking your wrist at him, “just forget i told you!”

“hey!” yoongi gawks and shakes his head, “i can’t forget! now my only purpose in life is to get you some head-”

“jesus christ-!”

you jump ten feet into the air like a cat that’s just been sprayed by water when the kitchen door suddenly swings open and a sweaty namjoon stumbles in

“i think there’s sweat dripping into my contacts-”

“namjoon!” yoongi spins around in his stool and props his elbows up on the counter, “what a coincidence! we were just talking about you, my man…”

yoongi looks over at you with a cheeky grin and you shake your head stiffly before turning to get the jug of water from the fridge for namjoon 

“oh yeah?” namjoon huffs as he places his hands on your hips from behind, sliding past you to grab a clean glass from the dish rack, “what about?”

“just about how…” yoongi looks back at you quickly and you shoot him a glare

he wouldn’t… 

would he??

(he absolutely would.)

any word of your conversation and you’ll skin him alive

“-hard you’ve been working out lately!” yoongi chirps, “i mean, it looks like you were trapped in a washing machine-”

“oh, god. trust me, it’s so not worth it, i’m in so much pain-” namjoon winces and shakes his head, “you’re welcome to go and take my place if you want-”

“absolutely not-” yoongi snorts, “first of all, it’s the holidays, and everyone knows you don’t work out during december. also, you couldn’t pay me a million dollars to do a push-up. i’m perfectly happy with my somewhat doughy centre.” he pats his tummy with a happy hum and you can’t help but giggle

silly boy

namjoon laughs lightly before pausing to chug down some water, “i wish i could say the same. unfortunately, jin’s not giving me a choice-”

“sweaty!” you whine when namjoon suddenly wraps an arm around you from behind before kissing your cheek and he frowns playfully when you swat at his forearm, “and sticky…”  

“relax, i’m about to hit the shower-” he nudges his nose against your cheek before pulling away, “and then i won’t be sticky and i’ll smell like peaches-”

“i should probably go, too.” yoongi gets up from his seat, “i just ordered my dinner and it’s going to arrive at my apartment in like half an hour.”

“wait!” you hold a finger out before turning to open up the cupboards for a tupperware box, “take some pie with you…”

                                     »»————-　☁️　————-««

“still coming friday?” you ask as you watch yoongi put his shoes on

you asked yoongi if he would be interested in helping you decorate the apartment on friday (aka you told him he didn’t have a choice and that he had to come and help you whether he wanted to or not)

“mhm.” he glances up at you, “still ordering pizza?”

“mhm.”

you reach down to pat the top of yoongi’s head gently just because you want to and pauses in the middle of tying his laces to reach over and jab your stomach

“i know the main focus is decorating the place for christmas but i think you guys are going to love the nature documentary i picked for us to watch while-” namjoon chimes in but shuts up quickly when you and yoongi exchange knowing glances, “what?”

yoongi looks back up at you with a raised brow, “…does he really have to join us?”

“no choice.” you shrug casually and namjoon’s jaw drops

wha-

“oh, hold on-” yoongi gets up off the ground before patting his pockets down with a frown, “i think i left my keys in the kitchen… can you go and get them for me?”

you nod before turning to hurry to the kitchen

you don’t want him to get another parking ticket

it’s only after you disappear into the kitchen that yoongi swiftly pulls his keys out of his back pocket with a jingle

namjoon opens his mouth to say something but yoongi quickly holds his hand out to shut him up

“야 남준아- 어제 니 여친이 니 꿈 꿨데~ (y/n had a sex dream about you).” he chirps and gives namjoon two firm pats on his surprisingly firm chest before his eyes widen in surprise, “어우 딴딴해 운동 열심히 했나보네! (woah, you really have been working out! good man.)”

“yeah, i-” namjoon chokes, “wait, wha-”

“y/n, i found my keys! my bad!” yoongi calls out and gives you a thumbs up when you come out of the kitchen, “see you losers on friday!”

he gives namjoon a grin and a light punch to the arm before swiftly turning on his heel

namjoon’s eyes are as wide as saucers as yoongi shuts the front door behind him and he blinks rapidly before turning to look at you

you tilt your head at him curiously and namjoon swallows before offering you a sheepish smile

oh, boy.

                                     »»————-　☁️　————-««

namjoon hasn’t been able to think straight since it was revealed to him that you had a sex dream about him.

it’s been an entire week that he’s learned this new piece of information and it’s been weighing verY heavily on his mind!!

when he wakes up his first thought is gee i wonder what y/n dreamt about

when seokjin’s rambling about god knows what the only thing in his mind is gee i wonder what y/n dreamt about

the last thing he thinks about before he goes to bed is gee i wonder what y/n dreamt about

and then his imagination conjures up what could’ve happened in your sex dream which is very dangerous because he has an overly-active imagination 

it sucks that he doesn’t even know the details of the dream because stinky yoongi ziPPed off before he got a chance to squeeze the truth out of him!!!

and he hasn’t mustered up the courage to ask you about it because… how is he even supposed to ask you about it in a casual, non-confrontational way?!

he doesn’t want to embarrass you or anything like that!!

the only reason why he’s only slightly nervous about the whole situation because he doesn’t think he… oozes sex appeal?

so it was more than surprising to find out that you had a naughty dream about him

he’s like 90% leg and 10% dimple for crying out loud

and it’s not like he hasn’t done anything before, because he has, but it’s just different because it’s… you.

you’re his girlfriend and if he flubs this up the first time around then it’d be even more embarrassing than if you were just some random girl!

“말해줘여어 (you have to tell me).” namjoon whips around from where he’s standing by the tree, cradling the box of baubles to his chest, “you have to!”

“싫어 (nah).” yoongi shakes his head, tossing a kernel of popcorn into his mouth only for it to bounce off his cheek and onto the couch

he purses his lips before kicking it under the coffee table

it’s fine

the dust bunnies will get rid of it 

“말해줘여어! (you have to tell me!)”

“야 안돼 (no way).”  

namjoon clenches his jaw and sets the box down onto the floor promptly before balling his hands into fists and setting them on his hips, puffing his chest out

...

“아 왜여어어어~ (why not??)” he whines, deflating and resisting the urge to stamp his foot and throw an actual tantrum

“아니 비밀이라고 했으니까 그렇지! (it’s not my thing to tell! and i can’t betray y/n like that-)” yoongi shrugs as he keeps his eyes glued on the screen, “by the way, you didn’t even choose a cool nature documentary. what are we even watching?? the guy’s been talking about seaweed for the past ten minutes-”

“what do you mean it’s not your thing to tell??” namjoon scoffs, not even paying attention to the fact that yoongi just insulted his favourite nature documentary about plants in the ocean, “형이 먼저 말 꺼냈잖아! (you were the one who told me that she dreamt about me in the first place-!)” he snaps

“잠깐만 (wait, wait-)” yoongi sits up quickly, a couple kernels of popcorn rolling off his chest and falling onto his lap, “일주일이 지났는데 아무것도 안 했단 말이야?? (are you telling me that you… it’s been a whole week and you haven’t done anything about it??)”

namjoon shrinks down before reaching up to scratch the back of his neck, “노 코멘트 (…no comment.)”

“킄 정말로? (really? wow.)” yoongi snorts before shaking his head and leaning back against the couch, “both of you- i mean, both of you deserve each other, seriously-”

namjoon resists the urge to flop down on the couch dramatically, “아니 뭐라고 말하는 거예요 (well, i’m sorry, what am i even supposed to say-)”

“아우 그러지좀마 걍- (you don’t have to say anything, all you have to do is-)”

“yoongi!” namjoon and yoongi look over when you stick your head out around the kitchen door, “cream cheese or vanilla?”

“vanilla, duh.” yoongi raises a brow

you should know by this point that he prefers vanilla frosting over cream cheese!

halfway through the documentary you decided that you were going to make a carrot cake

(and yes, part of the reason why you made that decision was because you were bored of the documentary and wanted to do literally anything else, but you’ll never admit that to namjoon in case it breaks his heart)

namjoon stays quiet until after you disappear into the kitchen again and then he turns to face yoongi with both of his hands clasped together, “말해줘요오! (you have to tell me, c’mon!)”

“말해주면 제발 다른 거 보면 안 될까? (if i tell you, can we watch something else?)”

namjoon scowls

“아 됐어요 도와줄 거라도 있는지 확인 해볼게요- (fine, forget it. i’m gonna go see if y/n needs any help.)” he steps over the boxes of decorations on the ground before turning to look back at yoongi, “부엌에서 필요한 거 있어요? (you need anything?)”

“아니 (nah.)” yoongi responds before shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth, “oh! actually, see if y/n would be willing to make little carrot cupcakes instead of a whole carrot cake. holding a tiny little cupcake in my hand makes me feel like a giant.”

                                     »»————-　☁️　————-««

“knock, knock…” namjoon knocks on the kitchen door quietly before pushing it open, “everything going okay in here?”  

he smiles when you look up from the bowl and beam at him, “hi!”

“hi-” he comes in and shuts the door behind him, “you need any help?”

“help? from you?” you giggle lightly and shake your head, “i’m good.”

ever since he accidentally poured salt into your batter that one time he hasn’t been allowed to help you

:-//

“yoongi changed his mind, by the way.” namjoon gestures back to the direction of the living room, “king min would like cupcakes now.” 

your shoulders immediately droop and you gesture to the already greased cake-pans sitting on the side

what a waste! 

“hey, don’t shoot the messenger!” namjoon raises both his hands in defence before shrugging, “the man wants what he wants.”

you resist the urge to go out there just to throw the cake pans at yoongi

you’re definitely going to force him to wash everything for you later 

“also... you’re just doing this to get out of watching the nature doc, aren’t you?” namjoon wraps both his arms around you from behind and leans down to prop his chin up on your shoulder

you could’ve helped with the decorating, but somehow everything looks better when namjoon does it 

he hung a big red bow on your front door and it looks great! 

you pause in the middle of shredding carrots before letting out a nervous chuckle, “whaaat? no...”

“it’s about the types of plants in the ocean!” namjoon points out, “is that not cool?? plants are cool.”

you shake your head no almost immediately 

not cool

two and a half hours of someone talking about grass that lives in salty water?

not cool at aLL

“how’s the decorating going?” you ask, giggling lightly when namjoon nudges his nose under your jaw before planting a kiss against your neck

“it’s going fine… yoongi isn’t helping, obviously. i handed him one bauble to hang and he hooked it on the collar of his hoodie and told me he’d do it later.”

“mm.”

a brief moment passes where the only sound that can be heard is the carrot you’re shredding against the grater

namjoon purses his lips as he thinks about what yoongi just said to him 

...

ah

fuck it

“hey, can i ask you something?” namjoon sighs, smiling in delight when you suddenly turn your head to press a sweet little kiss into his cheek

“mhm!” you turn back, continuing to grate away

“it’s not a big deal or anything, but, uh... when were you planning on telling me about that nice little dream you had two weeks ago?” namjoon asks cockily, biting back a grin when he feels you freeze in his arms 

it’s at this moment that the fact that you had a wet dream about him has finally sunk into the depths of his brain and now he’s actually feeling... really good about it 

you had a sex dream about him

what’s not to love?  

he can almost hear the alarms wailing in your head

and now that he’s got the ball rolling- he’s not as nervous as he thought he’d be!

as a matter of fact... this could be fun.

“w-” you clear your throat quietly and the half-shredded carrot drops into the metal bowl with a muted plunk, “i- what dream? i didn’t have a dream about you.”

he knows you’re trying to play it cool but he can see how tightly you’re gripping the grater and he can feel your ears getting hotter against his cheek 

“i never said the dream was about me.”

oh, shit

you messed up

“so...?” namjoon moves your hair to the other side before leaning in to plant a warm kiss under your jaw, “this dream that you had… about me. tell me what happened in it.”

you swallow thickly, the gears working overtime in your brain as you try to come up with some kind of an excuse to get yourself out of this situation

you know that now isn’t the most appropriate moment to be thinking about this but you’re 100% going to slaughter yoongi the moment you get a chance to 

the secret ingredient to make these cupcakes taste good will not be love

it will be BLEACH 

you can’t believe he ratted you out like that!!

how embarrassing!!

“you were-” you cough, “um, you were… you… we…”

oh boy

this is already a train wreck

this is exactly why you didn’t want to tell namjoon about it!

because you know yourself and you knEW you were going to get all flustered and twitchy bringing it up

“well, i was-” you pause, “i was sitting on- sitting on the counter-”

“this one right here?” namjoon’s hand leaves your waist to pat the surface of the counter lightly and you nod gingerly, staring down at his obscenely pretty fingers, “what else?”

“that was it.” you blurt out, “the end!”

namjoon steps back a little and spins you around quickly before pressing you up against the counter, “what else, y/n?”

he traps you in between his arms and you fight the urge to explode into a million bits 

oh god

okay

just tell him!

just SAY it

it’s time to get it over with!!

“you were…” your eyes flicker downwards and your nose scrunches slightly

you really don’t want to say it but you don’t think you can back out at this point because you’ve already said too much 

“…eating me out.” you force out before averting your gaze and looking off to the side  

you really wish there was a better way to say that because the phrase eating me out just sounds so… in your face, you know?

namjoon swallows thickly

so you had a dream about him eating you out?

“y/n, there’s really nothing to be embarrassed about, i promise-” namjoon laughs lightly when he notices your entire face starting to go red

you let out a particularly pathetic whine before leaning your forehead against his chest and gently shoving at his (firm) abdomen

“what’s the problem?” he asks, rubbing comforting circles into your back, “i think about you, you know.”

“you’re just saying that…” you mumble, reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose, “you’re lying...” 

“no, i’m serious!” namjoon pulls away to look at you, “i… i think about you. i think about things.”

you blink twice 

he thinks about you

he thinks about things 

he thinks about you?

he thinks about things?? 

…what kind of things does he think about?

“y-you do?” 

“of course i do.”

“oh.”

a moment of silence ticks by 

“i think about a lot of things, y/n.”

“like what?” you look up at him, the corner of namjoon’s pretty mouth curling upwards

“you really wanna know?”

“yes.” you respond a little too quickly before clearing your throat quietly, “…please.”

“hm.” he smiles, “as polite as always-” 

you gasp in surprise when namjoon suddenly lifts you up and plops you down on the countertop in one swift movement and your stomach flutters at how effortlessly he just did that

wowie

he places both hands flat on the surface on either side of you before looking up at you with his head tilted slightly

you keep your hands folded in your lap, nervously picking at the worn edges of the sweatshirt you’re wearing (it’s namjoon’s coffee-coloured sweatshirt that you ‘borrowed’ from him) 

“mostly about fucking you into the headboard.” namjoon confesses, a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth when he notices the way your eyes flicker

oh

you definitely seemed to like that idea

“i think about your fingers pulling at my hair when i have my face in between your legs...” he hums, trailing a finger up from your kneecap to your thigh, “i think about how pretty you’d look bent over the counter for me. i think about the sounds you’d make, how soft your moans and gasps would be… i especially like thinking about you moaning my name. i think about you riding me wearing nothing but that cute little apron of yours - you know, the one with the little honeybees on them?”

“apron’s in the.. in the washing machine.” your breathing’s become a bit more shallow and you haven’t blinked in nearly a minute so it’s safe to say that he has your attention

“you know… i think you know what you do to me when you walk around wearing nothing but one of my sweatshirts and a pair of panties, or when you come out of the shower wrapped in a little towel because you ‘forgot’ your clothes in the bedroom…” namjoon murmurs lowly, “and don’t think i don’t notice the way you look at me whenever you suck frosting off your fingers.”

“frosting?” you whisper, namjoon nodding as his eyes flicker down to your lips briefly

your tongue pokes out to swipe over your bottom lip for a split second 

“that’s right.” the metal bowl scrapes against the counter as namjoon drags it over and you jump in surprise at the feeling of the chilled metal bumping up against your bare thigh

“you think you’re so innocent, don’t you?” namjoon chuckles lowly, lifting the spatula up before swiping some frosting off of it with the side of his thumb, “you think i don’t know what you’re up to?”

“i don’t…” you trail off, going cross-eyed when namjoon’s hand comes closer only for his pointer finger to tap at your bottom lip

“you do. open.”

you’re just a little thrown off because namjoon’s never... you’ve never seen him like this before

he’s never spoken to you like this before

he’s never looked at you like this before 

you’re certainly not complaining, of course 

“you taunt me because you like to-” you can’t seem to break away from namjoon’s gaze, the side of his pointer finger hooking underneath your chin as he pushes his thumb into your mouth, “i know you do it on purpose.”

almost immediately, the taste of sweet vanilla frosting washes over your palette

“you want me to think about you, don’t you?” namjoon swallows a groan when you start sucking, your cheeks hollowing slightly as your tongue swirls around his thumb to make sure no frosting gets left behind, “you like the thought of that? like leaving me high and dry because it forces me to use my own imagination?”

(admittedly, yes. a little part of you likes the thought of you completely consuming every corner of namjoon’s mind... just a little part, though.)

you nod slowly in response with glazed over eyes and namjoon clenches his jaw 

fuck

he flattens his thumb down on your tongue to get you to open your mouth a little more for him and hums contently when you do so obediently

a thin line of spit stretches from your tongue to namjoon’s slick thumb as he pulls his hand away and you don’t even get a chance to register whatever that moment was before he’s leaning forward to slant his mouth over yours

namjoon kisses you purposefully, pulling you closer to him as you fist at his shirt tightly 

he savours the faint sweetness of the frosting left behind on your tongue and can’t help but smile when he hears you whimper

“can i tell you something?” namjoon pulls away only to start sponging kisses to your neck and you tilt your head to the side for him

“uh-huh, y-yeah-” you nod quickly, slinging an arm around his neck to keep him close while the other hand grips at his shoulder

your eyes roll to the back of your head for a split second and you can’t help but quietly mouth an ‘oh my god’ to yourself because you never knew it could feel this good to have your neck kissed

“i think it’s hot as fuck that you had a wet dream about me,” namjoon groans lowly and you immediately feel a zing! of electricity travel straight down south from the sound of him speaking to you in such a deep, gravelly voice, “and you definitely don’t have to be shy about asking me to touch you… because i’m very willing to do so.”

“i want you to- w-want you to touch me-” you stutter, feeling your cheeks warm from hearing those words come out of your mouth, “want it so bad-”

your eyes pop open when namjoon suddenly pulls away and you frown, instantly missing the feeling of him being pressed up so tightly against you

“lift your hips-” namjoon pushes the bowl of frosting to the side before tapping two fingers on your upper thigh, “-up off the counter.”

?

your brows knit together in confusion

why would you-

your eyes widen in realisation when it dawns on you what exactly is happening here

“w-what-” you glance at the (for the most part, closed) kitchen door frantically before looking down at joon, “but yoongi’s in the-” you turn back and jump in surprise when you see that namjoon’s face is right in front of yours

you’re practically nose to nose with him

“i know.” namjoon leans in to give you a quick peck before pulling away with a particularly smug grin, “so you’re just going to have to stay quiet for me then, aren’t you?”

you WHAT

“why don’t we get these off, hm?” namjoon hooks a finger into the waistband of your shorts and gives it a gentle tug

you look at the door once again and then back at namjoon, who offers you an innocent little smile as if he didn’t just suggest going down on you on the kitchen counter with your friend in the room next door

okay

think about this!

think about this with your logical brain and not your bonk horny brain

would you rather see your very hot boyfriend’s face in between your legs or would you rather send him away so you can continue making a cake for your very picky friend?

…

you plant both palms on the counter before raising your hips a little, namjoon grinning in victory before yanking your shorts down in one go

if you would’ve known this was going to happen today you definitely would’ve worn a sexier pair of panties

white cotton is boring!!!

also you know this is the wrong time to be thinking this but you’re wondering if it would be possible to rope yoongi into a shopping spree at victoria’s secret next week because you’re going to need better looking panties if namjoon’s going to keep springing these spontaneous sessions on you

“cute.” namjoon hums, poking at the little blue bow that sits at the centre of the waistband

your breathing stills as he slowly lowers himself to his knees in front of you and you feel like your heart is about to beat out of your chest at the sight alone 

“soaked right through…” namjoon observes quietly, turning his head to press a kiss to the pillowy flesh of your inner thigh, “i’ve barely touched you, baby.”

you jolt in surprise when he runs his thumb slowly up your slit through the thinned fabric of your panties, though he stops right as he’s about to reach your clit

so close yet so, so painfully far

you nudge him with your foot, “you’re teasing.” you swallow thickly, namjoon offering you a boyish grin as he tilts his head, pushing his bottom lip out in a mocking pout

“aw… am i?” he coos, and you shiver when he leans in to press a kiss over your clothed clit, “i’m sorry, darling… that must be so hard for you…”

“and you’re being mean.” you murmur, namjoon chuckling to himself as he pulls your panties down your legs

“am not.”

“are too.”

“am not.” namjoon perks a brow, pushing your thighs apart gently, “take it back.”

“no wa-!” your back immediately straightens as if a jolt of electricity just shot straight up your spine at the first feeling of namjoon licking one long stripe up your centre, and you fight back the urge to snap your legs shut

that’s.,., new!

very new

very new feeling

you’re certainly not against it and it’s not a bad feeling 

it’s just…

new

“good?” your breath wavers when namjoon hums against you, your eyelids fluttering shut at the feeling of his tongue slowly pressing in deep, “hm?”

namjoon slips his tongue in between your folds before sliding it flat and straight up to your swollen clit, grinning to himself when you finally give in to pleasure and lie back on the counter

you whimper, rolling your hips down towards his mouth as he drags his tongue over your slit in repetitive strokes before flicking his tongue over the top of your clit

it’s too much and not enough at the same time, your legs instinctively starting to squeeze shut around him

“nuh-uh, baby…” you find that you can barely move, namjoon’s fingers digging into your thigh as a warning as he keeps your legs open, “keep them spread for me.”

namjoon watches your reaction intensely, finding pleasure in the way that your chest rises and falls quickly and in the way you twitch every now and again

from here, he can see the way your brows furrow and the way you bite and tug at your bottom lip in a poor effort to keep yourself quiet 

“you can use your words like a good girl, can’t you?” namjoon teases, two fingers rolling tight little circles into your clit as he watches you, barely blinking, “tell me how good it feels…”

“good- ungh, feels good-” you whimper, hips bucking up against his fingers desperately

namjoon looks down to see you practically dripping onto the counter

jesus 

he would’ve done this a lot sooner had he known you’d be acting like this from his touch 

“fuck me,” namjoon groans suddenly, and all of a sudden it seems like everything’s moving ten times faster than before, “you look so fucking hot right now-”, he wraps his strong arms underneath both your thighs before yanking you closer to him, practically burying his entire face in between your legs

your right leg gets hitched up over his shoulder and you quickly sit back up, digging your fingers into the soft strands of namjoon’s hair as his tongue laves back and forth against your folds

your back arches and you tilt your head up towards the ceiling, namjoon instinctively pushing his clothed crotch against the bottom part of the counter for some kind of relief 

he’s so painfully hard from just hearing you hold back moans and watching you squirm and twitch 

you remind yourself to loosen your grip on namjoon’s hair because you’re worried that you might accidentally rip some strands out and leave him with a bald patch, but namjoon obviously doesn’t seem to mind as he doubles his efforts and starts to lick and and suck with tremendous fervour 

“fuck, you taste good-” he curses, his right hand sliding underneath your sweatshirt to cup your bare breast before he pinches and rolls your nipple in between his fingers

he drags his tongue down to circle around your tight hole and you jerk immediately, “oh my god-” you pant, overwhelmed by all the different feelings your body is experiencing at this moment, “that feels so-”

your bum is teetering on the edge of the counter at this point because namjoon’s basically pulled you off of it and you reach down to grip at the edges so you don’t fall off 

“gonna cum?” namjoon murmurs, eyes locking on your face almost immediately as he feels you starting to squirm underneath him 

he really wants to watch you cum

“j-joonie, god, don’t stop-” the arm wrapped around your waist tightens around you and your eyes roll to the back of your head as he continues his torturous onslaught of pleasure, “i-i- nngh- namjoon-!”

“i’ve got you, baby… you can cum…” namjoon feels himself twitch in his sweats upon hearing you moan his name like that 

the thought of gagging you with your own panties to mute your moans briefly flits through his mind but... he wants to hear you moaning his name over and over and over again 

he wants to make you scream for him

when it happens, you practically bite your bottom lip off trying not to cry out in ecstasy

namjoon has to hold your trembling thighs open to keep them from snapping his head right off

your hips buck lazily as you quiver around namjoon’s hot tongue, your body glistening in a sheen layer of sweat as you bask in the slow, rolling waves of ecstasy

you lie back down against the counter, chest heaving beneath your sweater as you stare dazedly up at the ceiling

oh, wow

you watch as the ceiling fan whirrs around and around and around

you feel like you’re not physically here right now 

like your soul left your body and you’re just floating in the air like a bunch of particles 

“-!” you twitch when namjoon carefully wipes you off with your panties before setting them onto the counter next to you 

you slowly prop yourself up onto your elbows so you can look at him, feeling your cheeks flush when you see that he’s looking right at you 

you’re not sure why you’ve gone all shy again as if his tongue wasn’t licking you out ten seconds ago 

“hi, pretty girl...” he smiles, his dimple popping up in his right cheek, “welcome back.” he jokes, rising to his feet while keeping your right leg propped up onto his shoulder

he turns to give your ankle a kiss before gently bringing your leg down and helping you sit up

“that was really something...” you wrap your arms loosely around his neck as he grasps your hips before leaning down to give you a sweet little kiss 

“oh yeah? did i live up to dreamjoon?” namjoon teases, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before pinching the apple of your cheek 

“you did a much better job than dreamjoon.” you hum, and it’s only then that you’re aware of the very prominent bulge pressing into your centre, “but i... i wanna make you feel good, too…” you murmur, namjoon biting back a groan when you nudge your bare centre against him, a darkened splotch now staining the front of his sweatpants  “and…” you lean upwards to whisper something into namjoon’s ear

...

...

holy shit

yes please

“yeah, shit, we can definitely do that-” namjoon hates to admit to how horny he is but he can’t help it when you go around saying stuff like that to him, “we-” he pauses suddenly, eyes going wide in panic, “oh, shit!” 

“wh- what??” you look around the kitchen frantically before grabbing the closest thing to you as a form of defence (a silicone whisk) 

“friggin’ yoongi-!” namjoon hisses in pain as he adjusts himself in his sweatpants, “i forgot about yoongi-”

okay

a little weird of him to be thinking about yoongi while he’s touching his- 

“oh my god, yoongi!” you hiss quietly, hopping off the counter with wobbly legs 

namjoon hands you your shorts and you quickly wiggle into them before pulling your sweatshirt down  

you completely forgot that yoongi was in the room right next to you guys and that last moan of yours wasn’t exactly quiet

and you know that yoongi might not have a lot of knowledge when it comes to baking, but you’re sure that he knows enough to know that practically screaming namjoon’s name out loud isn’t a key step in achieving a fluffy cake batter 

“we weren’t doing anything!” 

the two of you stumble out into the living room and you file through your brain to come up with some kind of a logical excuse as to why you’re hot and sweaty and why namjoon’s hiding his lower half behind a kitchen towel and how in the world those two facts are related to his precious carrot cake cupcakes

you pause when you notice that yoongi’s nowhere to be found 

?

the documentary’s still playing on the TV, the boxes of tinsel and baubles have been completely abandoned, and there’s nothing but a blue sticky note sitting on the couch 

taking a nap in my car. text me when you guys are done being horny. also - you’re welcome. 

christmas with cee 2020 masterlist

🎁what would you like from ceenta this year? 🎁

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

This is a weird question, but what would happen if Edward slept with or raped Bella in Twilight and got her pregnant with Renesmee? I know that this is even more unlikely than her getting pregnant in NW, but well we're in the land of answers to unlikely questions on this blog

Well anon, I guess we're going here.

Specifically anon is referencing this post.

My Usual Up Front Note

Yes, I know, we all know this is outlandish but I have to do this. Otherwise this blog descends into me writing fanfiction, and I have an AO3 and FFNet account for that.

Edward is many things and it's no great secret that I think he... makes very questionable decisions all the time and should not be romantically entangled with anybody.

However, Edward is not a rapist.

In the original post I go over my thoughts on this but essentially the crux of it is that Edward does have his moral standards. He will not have sex with a woman without a) being married to her first and b) without her explicit consent. Which, Bella does give against his advice in New Moon, fully aware of all the consequences that Edward himself is aware of (neither knew Renesmee was on the table then).

I do not think, at least without a lot of terrible things and huge catalysts happening first, that Edward would rape Bella.

I certainly don't think they'd be having sex as early as Twilight. Bella's not yet eighteen, Edward has no immediate plans to leave her (likely telling himself he'll leave after graduation when the separation is more natural), and he has no plans to marry her.

Sex isn't even on the table in Twilight.

Come on, Muffin, Try

But, per the ask, Edward and Bella do have sex in Twilight.

I have no idea how this would occur without a substantial amount of sex pollen. So, sex pollen it is.

Edward and Bella are in the meadow, it's the happiest day of Edward's life as Bella now fully understands what he is and doesn't run in terror. It's the happiest day of Bella's life as beautiful Edward has just shown her his innermost vulnerable self.

The stupid lamb is in love with the stupid lion. Huzzah.

Just then, wafting through the sky, is a blossoming alien plant life that for some unknown reason is also an intense aphrodisiac. This likely affects the entire town of Forks, but never mind them, we're focusing on Bella and Edward.

Bella looks at Edward, Edward looks at Bella, chemicals in their brain are churning. And as many a fanfiction protagonist has found out: resistance is futile. Edward and Bella succumb to the sex pollen in short order.

Edward probably crushes Bella in the act of sex and ends up sucking her blood out of the grass like a vacuum cleaner while naked. When he comes to, there's bits of Bella's pancreas on his face. He sobs in despair, for he is the world's greatest monster who has raped the love of his life to death and then devoured her corpse.

He goes to Volterra to kill himself. Aro's not sure what to say to any of this, Caius judges Carlisle by association.

However, we're not in that timeline per the ask.

Instead, somehow, despite both parties being not at home, Edward does not crush Bella in the midst of intercourse. Instead, as the sex pollen fades, they get to stare at each other in the aftermath.

They're in a meadow, naked, their clothes are torn into pieces, neither Bella nor Edward is a virgin and both of them can barely remember having sex.

Edward likely flees with suicide on his mind.

He may not have crushed Bella and devoured her corpse but he did just rape her. His inner demon took over and tarnished the most wonderful thing in all the world: he is no better than the monsters he once devoured.

He's likely planning his flight to Volterra before he even gets to the house. All he needs is a change of clothes and a credit card.

And luckily for him, since the entire town just succumbed to sex pollen (including the Cullens), Alice is probably in too much of a daze to see what's about to happen. Edward is able to find some pants, purchase a flight, and runs.

Bella is left naked and alone in the meadow. And very, very, sore.

Eventually, she has to hobble back to the street. She probably gets lost, as she did in canon. Eventually, a search party is probably sent out for Bella. One of the Cullens probably finds her first and... holy god she's looking full on rape victim.

No clothes, shivering naked and dangerously cold, covered in bruises.

Carlisle has not seen Edward all day, sex pollen descended on the town, this is painting a very bad picture of what just happened to Edward and Bella.

Bella tries to insist she's fine. She's not. She's taken to the hospital. And then the bomb drops. Bella easily confesses to Carlisle that she and Edward had sex. Bella has had sex with no one else. She's given a pregnancy test, it comes back positive.

Bella is pregnant with Edward's vampire child.

Carlisle... does not know how to tell Bella. Bella takes it very well surprisingly. By which she doesn't at all.

She does not want to be a teenage mother, that girl in that small town, at all. (She also would be devastated to be thought of as Edward Cullen's rape victim, but Bella's oblivious to that whole part of this)

She also has her whole life ahead of her and never wanted kids or to get married. She's seen how that shit turns out.

On the other hand, this is Edward's child, how can Bella take something so beautiful out of this world? Also, Renesmee's probably working overtime.

Bella tells Carlisle, right there in the hospital, that she's keeping the baby. Yes, she knows that she will have to fake her death, that she'll never see her family again. Yes, she's carrying a child that Carlisle's never seen before, he's not an OBGYN, and there's no telling what will happen. Yes, she's aware she could die. She's doing this.

Well. Carlisle's life just got ten times harder.

He fakes her death in the hospital somehow. Bella Swan dies of internal bleeding from the rape and is carted out of the hospital. Charlie, naturally, comes to arrest Edward Cullen (despite the entire town being affected by sex pollen all at once) but Carlisle truthfully notes that Edward isn't there. He hasn't seen Edward since the day before.

Charlie is also probably working overtime as the whole damn town was raped and does not have much time to look into this. Though Bella will be top priority case.

Charlie leaves (likely to go get a search warrant) and Carlisle gets to breathe a temporary sigh of relief. That sigh of relief is very temporary. Alice comes in in a flurry: Edward has fled to Volterra to kill himself.

Bella, who comes out of the cupboard she was hiding in during Charlie's visit, asks, "What's a Volterra?"

Carlisle calls Aro, tells him to stall Edward until Carlisle can come and also, Bella's pregnant with Edward's child.

Aro has no idea how to take that, and confesses what Carlisle guessed: no, he's never heard of such a thing before. Well, Aro will ask around and try to see if this (or sex pollen) have ever happened before and why doesn't Carlisle bring Bella with him when he comes to pick up Edward.

(Remember, this is before Eclipse, and as such all the shady nonsense has yet to go down.)

The whole family vamooses in the middle of the investigation, Dr. Carlisle Cullen won't be allowed t exist for a while. They head to Volterra, where Edward, indeed, has been stalled and he and Bella reunite.

Though, when I say "they", it's probably the Cullens sans Alice and Jasper. Alice wouldn't want to tempt Aro too much and, since Bella's carrying Renesmee, her visions are pretty much useless anyway. She'll see them later.

Edward is not nearly as thrilled as Bella that she is carrying his demon rape child. However, no one's listening to him and Bella insists she's not aborting the baby. Instead, Bella is heartbroken and tries to assure Edward that he's worthy of her and that it wasn't rape (it was) she had a great time! And she wants his demon baby!

Caius can't believe this soap opera is in his house.

Well, Edward probably won't try to kill himself before killing Renesmee, but then Renesmee's gift works overtime and he's convinced vampires have souls and is somehow able to forgive himself all this madness.

Edward marries Bella after she turns and gives birth, everyone loves Renesmee and they decide she's not a demon and is worthy of life, and they eventually leave Volterra great friends with the Volturi.

Sort of.

Weirdest decades of Caius' life.