#groggy and in need of nicotine

[hxllishchild]

Good morning….. it’s Thursday. 🍞

Reposted

[ashecampos]

RADIO SILENCE

wandaxreader (relationship) yelenaxreader + natxreader (siblings)

reader uses they/them pronouns

Warnings - angst angst and a sprinkle of angst

another silly little one shot no one asked for. For this one I took inspiration from that one episode of b99 where Rosa is on duty at an active shooting. Pre warning I did write this at 4am, my body was running on nicotine and coffee so please forgive me if this is bad <3

🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫

Wanda’s pov - 9am - Avengers Tower

🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫

I stare at the clock as it slowly but surely moves, both arms moving but never seeming to meet each other, I look back to the time it displays, a tired yawn escapes my body. The meeting has only been going on for 20 minutes. Thing is I wouldn’t have been this tired if Y/N wasn’t put on early morning patrol duty. It’s normally the younger avengers who get forced to patrol the streets of NewYork on the mornings as all they have to do is stop a few robbers or help some old grandmother across the busy streets and even if there happened to be an avengers level threat they had their radio to call for backup. It was supposed to be Peter on duty today. But the little pesky bug boy decided he would much rather see to his aunt and her boyfriends anniversary plans than do what he is being payed for. The rest of the young avengers are at school, on Y/N’s request of course.

“Hey Sabrina you listening?” Tony interrupts my train of thought, I look up and see him and a few other staring at me “yeah sorry” I say with a gentle smile as they carry on their meeting.

Where was I? Oh yes my partner. My stupid adorable partner. They being the trouper that they are told Peter that they would happily take his shift on patrol, in which meaning them waking up at 4:30am, also meaning they woke me up as they being the clumsy person they are tripped over their own suit in their tired state, making suck a racket. Anyway that lead me to where we are now. Tired. Groggy and in a meeting. Thanks y/n.

After another half an hour of listening to absolutely everything. Sorry nothing of what Tony just rambled on about, Fury came rushing in with Maria. They looked broken. “Rogers, radio stat” Fury demanded as he pointed at the star spangled man. Steve being the perfect solider he is, he turned on and placed his radio on the desk for everyone to hear.

the small box crackles and squeals before a voice comes on “BREAKING NEWS!. I’m NewYork a shooting has occurred, all we know as yet is that the shooter is active and still on the scene. The shooting started at around 8am and is taking place at the american museum of natural history. The shooter is said to be armed with space tech. Anyone near the museum must evacuate and stay as far away as possible.” the radio then crackles and goes silent again. “and where is this museum?” Clint asks “upper west side” Bruce says without missing a beat. Looking around the room to see what the game plan is I see Nat’s face go sickeningly pale. “upper west side?” She asks, her voice cracking a little. I look at my future sister in law and it hits me. Yelena and Y/N. They both took their duty on upper west side an hour ago due to some reports of a commotion in some boring museum.

Fiddling with one of the radios, Clint manages to get connected to a police hotline, we can now hear if there is any updates on what shield agents are in the building. “Okay now agents of the shield facility I need anyone who is still standing to read their badge numbers” an officer says with a hint of boredom in his voice. Nat comes over to sit closer to me, everyone’s attention now glued to the tiny radio on the table. This meeting not being so boring anymore. “Agent104” some man says “agent233” another woman says, the list goes on for a few minutes until we hear a Russian accent, me and Nat lean forward in our chairs praying for either yelena or y/n or even just one of the twins. To everyone’s relief it was yelenas voice coming through “agents 443 and 444” she said. A big sigh is released as the twins are alive. But for how long? “We will be asking for hourly updates agents. If anyone is to come into contact with the shooter, do not touch the gun” the officer on the other end says with a hint of urgency.

Nat stands up first “we need to go help them” she pleas. “Negative, we stay here as ordered” Fury says as he leaves the room. Shaking her head Nat goes to the doorway and gets agitated “no Nick, both of my siblings are in there. You don’t tell me to follow orders” she snaps a little “Actually Romanoff, we need to stay here in case of an emergency, the avengers tower is open to the public who are in need of medical assistance.” Fury counteracts with his statement, he does have a point, however my partner and their sister are in that building. “we are to stay in this room and hope for the best. Understood?” He says his final warning before leaving the room.

Four long suffocating hours go by, none of us had left the meeting room. The radio went off every hour, agents would call their badge number into their radio, every hour there would be less and less calling their number. Meaning more and more casualties had occurred. Yelena and y/n hadn’t missed one calling yet. The team where getting bored by now, me and Nat pacing the room, everyone had enough. “That’s it. Both of you go to Y/N’s room and find something to keep yourself busy with. Now and stay there” Thor said, loudly and firmly, not taking no for an answer, me and Nat left the meeting room, making a quick entrance to Y/N’s room, their pink guitar laid on the bed from the previous night where they had sang to me, looking around nat sighed, she started to move stuff and clean.

An hour later there was a knock on the door, it opened as it was motion censored, Yelena stood in the doorway, swear covering her small face, Nat ran over to greet her younger sister, she engulfed her in a bone crushing hug. But where was the identical face that matched Yelena’s? “Lena oh my god never leave me again please” Nat says before looking back up, breaking the hug and going to move yelena aside to get to her other sibling, upon doing this she realised the worst. Y/n wasnt stood there with their arms open ready to be squeezed to death by their older sister. “Lena..where are they?” Nat asked urgently, praying that her sibling was just at med bay for another stupid reason as they always where. Yelena shrugged, her head lowered, eyes watery. “I-i don’t know Tasha, they told me to run ahead and that they would distract the bad guys and be right with me but when I got here they weren’t there” yelena sobbed, her words barely translatable. Nat guides us all to the bed, there was not one dry eye in the room as we all sobbed mourning the perfectly stupid person we all loved. To keep our minds off of whatever or wherever y/n had been, Nat told us to help her replace Y/N’s guitar strings as they hadn’t gotten around to doing it themselves.

An hour later, I give up “this is fucking useless Nat none of us know how to do this, we are just fucking it up the more we try.” I snap “the love of my life is out there in that stupid fucking museum and I don’t even know if they are dead or alive, I can’t feel them, I love them so much” I sob

“Jesus I mean I love you too but the crying..dramatic as fuck cara mia” I hear a voice behind me say, the voice is raspy and low. I look at Nat and yelena, they look shocked, I spin around and run to tackle the person. My person. “Oh my god Y/N”

[chounaifu]

❝ You wanna hear a story? It’s one of the only childhood memories I still have in tact in this fucked up brain I have. ❞ There’s a jab to his temple with one finger, the other hand holding a cigarette, ashing it on the ground. Leaned against the side of the convenience store, street lamp buzzing and flickering, Proton doesn’t make eye contact with the person lingering nearby.

❝ I was five, maybe, maybe six years old, spring time outside of Ecruteak. And I was walking outside early in the morning, all on my own. Spring time, y’know, is when Metapod evolves, all of the Butterfree emerge from their cocoons, ❞ he idly waves his hand some, as if illustrating the image with invisible paint on a non-existent canvas.

He sounds exhausted as he speaks, having been awake nearly 48 hours, burning the midnight oil.

❝ They all started to evolve at once, one by one, Butterfree flying everywhere, I’d never seen so many before, ❞ he clears his throat, it’s groggy from chain smoking, using the nicotine to stay awake.

❝ And then I saw one just, come out with no wings. It hit the ground, and it just— did nothing, it squirmed in the grass, it just laid there squirming and moving, and watching as the others flew off. Like it just kept trying to will itself to get up and fly, but, thing couldn’t, thing didn’t have any wings. I remember standing there, doing nothing, not really feeling a lot lot, ‘sides from— wondering what it’s like to watch all of the others take off into the sky, while you’re left behind to rot, because Mother Nature didn’t give you what you needed to thrive. ❞

The butcher takes a drag from his cigarette, and his eyes shift over to his audience of one. Protons arches a brow, the exhaustion leaving him— laughing some, his tired flee unsettling, and he flicks the cigarette to the ground, watching as the cherry red dies off

❝ . . . What, were you waiting for a metaphor? It’s just a story. ❞

Thus says the Butterfree whose wings were cleaved off by fate before he even knew they were meant to be attached to his back; some men are born with a predisposition to become serpents rather than butterflies.

[jaymber]

22 and/or 40 for vaea, up to you if its SFW or NSFW but i love your SilverVDyne :)

Hehe, thanks! Glad you like my baby and his inputs <3

The first prompt is SFW, the second, however... 😌

22. nap - Vaea/Kerry/Johnny

A warm summer day, too hot to work outside, but just the right temperature thanks to the AC in the duplex. Vaea has tried to work since early morning, but his eyelids grow more and more heavy the harder he stares at the screen. One more line of code, and Vaea quits. Stretching doesn’t help. He steps out his office, and finally notices that time has gone by. Hours, actually. It’s late noon. He steps outside to light a cigarette and gives his brain the nicotine it so desperately needs. From the balcony, he notices two form lying on top of each other on the grass near the pool and recognizes immediately his two inputs. His heart skips a beat out of joy, they finished work earlier than expected.

Vaea runs down the stairs two by two to reach them, but slows down as he hears heavy breathing and snoring. They’re both asleep. Johnny’s head on Kerry’s chest. Kerry’s naked feet dipped into the pool. So peaceful. So quiet.

Vaea stares a moment, divided between leaving and joining them though it would wake them up.

“V?” a groggy voice eventually calls. Johnny calls, aware of Vaea’s presence through their unbreakable bound.

Johnny vaguely gestures him into joining them, and Vaea complies immediately. Coming to lie on Johnny’s scarred chest. He smells like sweat and tobacco. Johnny moves to accommodate Vaea better, and Kerry opens an eye before blindly reaching for Vaea and putting a hand on him just to feel his heartbeats.

With the mayhem of the city below as a soothing lullaby and his inputs’ secured arms around him, Vaea closes his eyes and drifts to sleep.

40. pet - Vaea/Kerry/Johnny

(tw: pet play)

When Kerry comes home from recording at the studio, his mouth falls open at the sight. On his knees with nothing but his collar, Vaea is waiting for him. A layer of sweat makes his skin shine with the neon lights from the kitchen. His hair is disheveled and his glare hazy. Not a thought behind those pretty purple eyes.

"See you two had fun today," Kerry puffs, finally noticing Johnny propped up on the kitchen counter, a proud smile he can't hide on his lips.

"Got bored waiting for you," he shrugs, jumping off to circle around Vaea, "You know how impatient he can get."

"Did he behave, though?"

"You know that mutt would never break a rule."

Vaea watches the exchange, looking up to his two inputs talking about him like he's not even there, like he doesn't even understand them. And they're right. He can only hear certain words, his body shivering as they hit him.

Behave. Rule.

Mutt.

"Is that right, Vaea?" Kerry asked, bending over to cup his jaw and forcing him to look up with his thumb so, so close to his lips, "Have you been good for us today?"

Vaea nods. It's too hard to speak. His tongue comes to lick his bottom lip, grazing against Kerry's digit. A quiet whimper escapes him. His mouth feels too empty.

"Good boy," Kerry coos, letting him thumb pass his lips and his tongue swirl around it.

Vaea laps at his digit with hunger, trying his best not to squirm as his neglected cock begs for attention. Kerry withdraws his finger, and Vaea lets out a complain, body moving on its own to follow Kerry's hand.

"Stay," Kerry orders and Vaea stills, eyes rolling at the command. Fuck, it feels so good not to think anymore.

"C'mon, Ker," Johnny exclaims, silver hand gently petting Vaea's mess of hair, "You're the one getting mean for once."

"Eh, guess you're right," he chuckles, standing back straight and unzipping his pants, "Good boys deserve a treat, don't they?"

[ragonfana]

hi! i am a clinicial support employee (scribe) that works directly with physicians and patients in a primary care setting. below is some advice the clinicians i work with often offer to patients who have sleep problems.

disclaimer: i am not a licensed medical professional and do not have formal medical training or education. i'm not a doctor and this is not medical advice, this info is provided for informational purposes only. insomnia and poor sleep quality could lead to life-threatening situations and lifelong health problems, and should be addressed by a licensed healthcare provider.

- putting it first: talk with your doctor about disorders that might interfere with sleep. sleep apnea is a common health problem that can occur at any age. It often goes unnoticed because you dont really notice it unless someone can watch you sleep, but can lead to lifelong health complications, as well as bad sleep quality.

- mental health conditions can also lead to poor sleep. for example, ADHD has been shown to sometimes have comorbid sleep cycle disturbances, making it hard to fall asleep at a normal time and leading to lower sleep quality. anxiety and depression can also lead to poor sleep quality.

- try to maintain a consistent sleep schedule. try to sleep within 1-2 hours of the same time every night, and wake up within a similar window. make sure you're not sleeping too little or too much. the amount of sleep a person needs per night can vary based on the individual and other life circumstances, like stress level. some people feel well with only 6 hours of sleep but others need up to 10 hours a night. try to figure out what works for you!

- appropriate sleep hygiene is a big first step! give yourself time to wind down at night before going to bed. try to develop a nighttime routine so you can develop associations that encourage your brain to start getting sleepy.

- avoid technology use prior to bedtime. the effect of blue light on our sleep habits is somewhat disputed, but doomscrolling on social media, playing games, and watching tv are all activities that engage our brains in ways that arent conducive with sleep. providers i work with recommend avoiding tech for 2 hours prior to bedtime.

- exercise and stretching prior to bed can help some people sleep, but for others it makes them more awake or makes them feel groggy the next day. consider exercising during the day instead.

- if you feel too awake to sleep, try taking a warm bath, listening to music, or reading a book/fic (nothing too engaging). you want to avoid activities that require a lot of concentration, attention, or cognitive power.

- evaluate your environment! are there things that may be waking you up at night? loud street noise, streetlights, pets, household members, too hot or cold? look into options for cancelling noise such as white noise machines (using earplugs can cause cerumen to be pushed against the ear drum, which can cause discomfort and infection. do this at your own risk), better ways to control your room's temperature, blackout curtains, etc.

- if you nap during the day, limit your naps to 30 minutes at a time or less. try to avoid naps in the afternoons and evenings.

- if you lay in bed for 15-20 minutes and cant fall asleep, get out of bed and try a quiet activity for a while before trying to fall asleep again. you want your bed to be associated with sleep in your brain, which should help with falling asleep.

- avoid caffeine after noon, or at least 8 hours prior to bedtime.

- avoid large meals for at least 2 hours prior to bedtime as this can lead to GERD (also known as reflux or heartburn). this can cause long-term GI issues as well as discomfort that can wake you up or reduce sleep quality.

- avoid the use of nicotine prior to bedtime as this can cause a sensation of increased energy and reduced fatigue, which will make sleeping more difficult and less restful.

- avoid alcohol 1-2 hours prior to bedtime. alcohol can produce a sedating effect which may help you fall asleep, but generally doesn't provide good sleep quality and can cause issues like increased anxiety in the short-term, compounding any sleep issues, as well as long-term health risks

As for supplements and over-the-counter medications... note: do not start a supplement without first talking to your healthcare provider, especially if you are taking any other medications. herbs can interact with medications in potentially deadly ways. naturopathic doctors may also know more about supplements and their interactions with prescription drugs.

- melatonin and valerian root are OTC (over-the-counter; non-prescription) sleep aids. melatonin is a chemical your brain already produces that regulates your body's sleep-wake cycle. melatonin should be taken at least 30 minutes prior to the time you lay down to sleep, preferably 1-2 hours. (one provider i worked with recommended taking it as early as sundown. ymmv.)

- valerian is an herbal supplement that produces a sedating and anxiolytic (anti-anxiety) effect. valerian root's mechanism of action is not fully understood but may be similar to that of benzodiazapines. you should take valerian root about 30 minutes prior to bedtime.

- avoid using Benadryl (diphenhydramine) or medications containing it for sleep on a regular basis. this medicine is considered safe for short-term use to manage insomnia, but research has come out recently raising concerns about long-term daily use and possible health risks

ive said it 10 times in this post and im getting preachy now, but: talk to a healthcare provider if you have concerns! (not directed specifically at OP here, but:) if you cant afford healthcare it's possible there are free or reduced cost public clinics in your area. i know they dont always provide the best medical care but something is usually better than nothing at all.

if you live in the US and dont have health insurance, check out healthcare.gov. if you make within 200% of the federal poverty limit you likely qualify for lowered-cost health plans and possibly financial assistance for your monthly premium, and if you make more you may still get some assistance. also check your state's medicaid, CHIP, and other health insurance programs.

how do you guys get good sleep. literally the only time i feel rested is if i have an entire bottle of wine before bed and well quite frankly that seems like a bad habit to start. what are better or worse ways to sleep well

[seoconsultant-1]

6 Things You Should Discover Life Insurance

That two word response was in order to colleague of mine; after she had so magnificently offered us a cigarette after our lunch time. Normally in this situation I would personally have pounced, feral instincts taking over as my brain realised there was free nicotine up for grabs. Today, well last Thursday regarding exact; I quit smoking - hence my completely irrational (for a "smoker" at least) answer.

"Please go back. It is usually quite risky out here," said a firefighter. Suchandan had already commenced suffocating. I threw final glance at the hell of an floor, and started descending the steps. Carefully escaping the hose pipes, wires and debris as we had done on our journey in the Nandaram building, we reached the salir. We were covered in soot, and were all groggy the family emerged from the the starting. After washing my face for just a hand pump across the building, I glanced for you to take a style at the firemen fighting the terminate.

Is offering not created to be flip, but sometimes you have to trim your losses. When cigarette Fume Infinity gets deeply enmeshed into the fabric of an ex-smokers favorite couch, end up being be nothing that will ever get against each other. Unless you enjoy reupholstering furniture, you could have to throw it away. Better yet, market it to a smoker.

Talk to your own loved ones, in order to garner their support in stopping smoking. Communicate your need for support, so as that they can understand their important roles, rather than becoming judgmental or suspect. Warn them close to fact that you might likely be grumpier than normal as start the way. You could be also a bit fuzzy-brained. It isn't easy to quit smoking, and should guaranteed you have your loved ones' support during this process.

Fill a tub with vinegar and also it on your platform in the leading seat, close the windows, open the floor vents and turn on the heat full blast. Allow car run in this state a great hour before removing the package. Another version of this remedy requires hot summer weather and allowing the bathtub sit on to the ground with the windows closed all day.

Foul Bathroom - Evaluate the bathroom in the tattoo shop you for you to go to in loan. Does it look and smell wash? The look of the bathroom will cover an regarding the involving cleanliness in the industry. If the employees take a nonchalant attitude to the bathrooms cleanliness they also are nonchalant their cleaning of there personal stations.

She made an excuse and left the bistro early, not too he is at there almost as much ast he was too busy outside chain smoking. Her mistake was sticking around too long and not going for the best dating site to secure a screen and background payment. The twin brother hold shown on.

Fire alarms and smoke detectors are also important shop alarms have got. Thieves and shoplifters aren't the only threat to all your business. Fire is exceedingly. Getting a good fire security alarm for your shop assist to alert you of the option of a fireplace that may damage your goods or your store. This way of a beginning warning device will help you save you a lot of of money by letting you know among the possibility of your fire before it gets too big to control and produced.

[vapehk1]

Melatonin Vape: Catching Z's Has Never Been This Cool

Sleep is one of those things we all crave but often find elusive, like that one missing sock after laundry. Enter the melatonin vape—a modern twist on the age-old quest for a good night’s sleep. If you're picturing someone puffing away in bed, you're not too far off. This trendy sleep aid is turning heads and promising sweet dreams with a hint of fun. Let's dive into the delightful world of melatonin vapes, where sleep meets chic. What Is a Melatonin Vape and How Does It Work? A melatonin vape is essentially a small device that allows you to inhale melatonin, the hormone your body naturally produces to regulate sleep. Instead of popping pills or chewing gummies, you can now vape your way to slumberland. Think of it as the e-cigarette's sleepy cousin, but without the nicotine and other nasties. When you take a puff from a melatonin vape, you inhale a vaporized form of melatonin, which quickly enters your bloodstream through your lungs. This means it can work faster than traditional supplements. Imagine skipping the long wait time and heading straight to dreamland—it's like fast-tracking your sleep ticket. And let’s be honest, who doesn't want a VIP pass to a good night's sleep? The Benefits of Using a Melatonin Vape Melatonin vapes offer several perks beyond their sleek, portable design. First and foremost, they provide a rapid onset of effects. This is a game-changer for those nights when counting sheep just doesn’t cut it. Instead of tossing and turning, you can enjoy a quick puff and drift off faster than you can say "goodnight." Another benefit is the customizable dosing. With a vape, you can control how much melatonin you’re inhaling, which is great for those who are sensitive to higher doses. No more overdoing it with tablets and waking up groggy. You’re the boss of your bedtime routine, tailoring it to your exact needs. Plus, the flavors can be a delightful bedtime treat. Vanilla, lavender, or mint—take your pick and add a touch of taste to your sleep regimen. Potential Drawbacks and Considerations While melatonin vapes sound like a dream come true, they aren’t without their quirks. For starters, the long-term effects of inhaling melatonin are still under research. Although it’s generally considered safe, we’re venturing into relatively uncharted territory. It’s always wise to consult with a healthcare professional before starting any new sleep aid, especially one that’s inhaled. Moreover, melatonin vapes can be a bit too convenient. With ease of use, there’s a risk of becoming overly reliant on them for sleep. While they’re great for occasional sleepless nights, developing a nightly habit might not be the best approach. Balance is key—think of melatonin vapes as a sleep supplement, not a sleep crutch. Who Should Consider Using a Melatonin Vape? Melatonin vapes can be particularly appealing to night owls and frequent travelers. If you’re someone who struggles to wind down after a long day or finds it hard to adjust to new time zones, a melatonin vape could be your new best friend. The quick absorption and ease of use make it a handy tool for resetting your internal clock. They’re also great for those who dislike traditional supplements. Let’s face it, not everyone enjoys swallowing pills or chewing on gummies. A melatonin vape offers a pleasant alternative, combining functionality with a dash of fun. It’s like the cool, hipster way to sleep better—minus the avocado toast. Conclusion The article humorously explores the trendy world of melatonin vapes, highlighting their modern appeal and effectiveness in promoting sleep. Melatonin vapes offer rapid onset and customizable dosing, making them an attractive option for those seeking a quick and tailored sleep aid. Despite their benefits, the article notes potential drawbacks, such as the lack of long-term research and the risk of over-reliance. Ideal for night owls, frequent travelers, and those who dislike traditional supplements, melatonin vapes provide a fun and convenient alternative for better sleep. Overall, the article paints a playful picture of how melatonin vapes could transform bedtime routines. FAQs 1. How do melatonin vapes work? Melatonin vapes work by allowing you to inhale melatonin, a hormone that helps regulate sleep. When you take a puff, the vaporized melatonin enters your bloodstream through your lungs, providing a faster effect compared to oral supplements. This rapid absorption can help you fall asleep more quickly and potentially improve sleep quality. 2. Are melatonin vapes safe to use? The safety of melatonin vapes is still under research. While melatonin itself is generally considered safe when used appropriately, the long-term effects of inhaling it are not well-studied. There are concerns about the potential risks associated with vaping, including lung irritation and the presence of harmful ingredients in some vape products. It's recommended to consult with a healthcare professional before using melatonin vapes. 3. Can you overdose on melatonin with a vape? While overdosing on melatonin is rare, it is possible to intake too much melatonin through vaping if not used correctly. Melatonin vapes can deliver the hormone more quickly, which might lead to higher levels in the bloodstream if used excessively. It's important to follow dosage guidelines and avoid overuse to prevent adverse effects such as grogginess or disrupted sleep cycles. 4. Who should consider using a melatonin vape? Melatonin vapes can be particularly useful for individuals who have difficulty falling asleep, frequent travelers experiencing jet lag, or those who need a quick-acting sleep aid. They might also appeal to people who prefer not to take oral supplements. However, anyone considering melatonin vapes should evaluate their overall health and consult with a healthcare provider, especially if they have respiratory issues or are on other medications. 5. What are the potential side effects of using melatonin vapes? The potential side effects of using melatonin vapes are similar to those of other melatonin supplements and can include daytime drowsiness, headaches, dizziness, and nausea. In some cases, more severe side effects like blurred vision, confusion, and allergic reactions could occur. Users should be aware of these risks and monitor their body's response to melatonin vapes. If any serious side effects occur, it's crucial to stop using the product and seek medical advice. Read the full article

[fitjourneydaily]

Discover the Power of Restorative Sleep with Herbal Extracts and Consistent Use

In our fast-paced, modern lives, quality sleep has become a rare treasure for many. The demands of work, social life, and technology often disrupt our sleep patterns, leading to a common complaint - lack of restorative sleep. However, by incorporating herbal extracts and consistent use into your routine, you can optimize your sleep cycle and experience the rejuvenating benefits of deep, restful slumber. In this article, we will delve into the importance of restorative sleep, explore how herbal extracts can aid in achieving it, and discuss the significance of consistent use in maintaining a healthy sleep cycle. 1. The Importance of Restorative Sleep: Quality sleep is crucial for our overall well-being and performance. It is during deep sleep that our bodies repair cells, consolidate memories, and rejuvenate both physically and mentally. Restorative sleep is the essential stage that allows us to wake up feeling refreshed and energized, ready to conquer the challenges of the day. On the other hand, a lack of restorative sleep can lead to grogginess, impairment of cognitive function, weakened immune system, and an increased risk of various health conditions. 2. Understanding Herbal Extracts for Sleep: Herbal extracts have long been used for their therapeutic properties, and they can play a significant role in promoting restorative sleep. When it comes to sleep support, certain herbs have proven to be particularly effective. Let's explore a few popular ones: a) Valerian Root: Valerian root is a well-known herb that has been used for centuries as a natural sleep aid. It helps to reduce anxiety, calm the mind, and promote a state of relaxation, making it easier to fall asleep and achieve deep, restorative rest. b) Chamomile: Chamomile is a gentle herb with soothing and calming properties. It can help reduce stress, anxiety, and even insomnia. A cup of chamomile tea before bedtime can prepare your body and mind for a peaceful sleep. c) Passionflower: Passionflower is a herb known for its sedative effects. It can help improve sleep quality and reduce nighttime awakenings, allowing for a more restorative sleep experience. d) Lavender: Lavender is renowned for its calming aroma. The scent of lavender has been shown to relax the body and mind, promoting a deeper and more restful sleep. 3. Consistent Use for Sleep Optimization: Incorporating herbal extracts into your sleep routine is just one piece of the puzzle. Maintaining consistent use is equally important for optimizing your sleep cycle. Here's how to establish a consistent routine: a) Set a Regular Sleep Schedule: Try to go to bed and wake up at the same time each day, even on weekends. This helps regulate your body's internal clock and enhances the quality of your sleep. b) Create a Relaxing Bedtime Routine: Develop a pre-bedtime routine to signal to your body that it's time to wind down. This can include activities like reading, taking a warm bath, or practicing relaxation techniques like deep breathing or meditation. c) Create a Sleep-Friendly Environment: Ensure your bedroom is cool, dark, and quiet. Use black-out curtains, earplugs, or white noise machines if needed. A comfortable mattress and pillows are also essential for promoting a restful sleep experience. d) Limit Stimulants: Avoid consuming caffeine, nicotine, and alcohol close to bedtime, as they can interfere with falling asleep and disrupt the quality of your sleep. 4. Optimizing Your Sleep Cycle: Apart from herbal extracts and consistent use, understanding and optimizing your sleep cycle can significantly impact the restorative power of your sleep. Our sleep cycles consist of multiple stages, including light sleep, deep sleep, and REM (rapid eye movement) sleep. Each stage plays a unique role in restoring and repairing different parts of our body and mind. To enhance your sleep cycle, consider these tips: a) Prioritize Sleep Duration: Aim for a minimum of 7-8 hours of sleep per night, allowing your body ample time to go through multiple sleep cycles. b) Wake Up Naturally: Where possible, wake up without an alarm to allow your body to complete its natural sleep cycle. This prevents abrupt disruptions and helps you wake up feeling refreshed. c) Avoid Electronics Before Bed: The blue light emitted by electronic devices can inhibit melatonin production, the hormone that regulates sleep. To optimize your sleep cycle, disconnect from screens at least an hour before bedtime. d) Regular Exercise: Engaging in regular physical activity can help regulate your sleep cycle and promote deeper sleep. Just be sure to exercise earlier in the day, as exercising too close to bedtime may have the opposite effect. Achieving restorative sleep is an essential aspect of maintaining optimal health and well-being. By incorporating herbal extracts known for their sleep-enhancing properties and adopting consistent sleep habits, you can significantly improve the quality of your sleep and reap the benefits of a rejuvenated mind and body. Remember, it's not just about the quantity of sleep but also the quality, and with the right approach, you can make restorative sleep a reality. 1. Restorative Sleep 2. Herbal Extracts for Sleep 3. Consistent Sleep Routine 4. Sleep Cycle Optimizatio Transform your weight loss journey with our advanced formula, meticulously developed with 10 Key Metabolic Boosters. Unveil the secret to effectively shedding unwanted weight and enhancing your metabolism. 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Our scientifically developed blend combines the power of natural, potent ingredients renowned for their nourishing properties. Ideal for those seeking to improve nail strength, enhance hair vitality, or find a natural solution for hair and nail care, our product offers a comprehensive approach. Experience the benefits of nature's finest ingredients, carefully selected for their effectiveness in promoting healthy nails and hair. Enter a world where vibrant hair and strong nails are a reality, and feel the improvement with each application. Start your journey to healthier nails and hair today. Learn more about how these 10 Essential Nutrients can revolutionize your nail and hair health. Visit the Keravita Pro Product Page. Read the full article

[bestpsychiatristbhopal]

The Impact of Sleep on Mental Health: 5 Habits for a Restful Night

Sleep is an essential part of life, and it’s important to get enough restful sleep to maintain good mental health. Sleep deprivation can lead to various physical and mental issues, such as fatigue, irritability, difficulty concentrating, and impaired memory. It can also impact our moods by increasing feelings of depression or anxiety. To ensure that you are getting the restful night's sleep your mind needs for optimal functioning during the day, here are five habits you should incorporate into your nightly routine:

Establish a consistent bedtime – Going to bed at the same time every night helps set our body clock, so it knows when it’s time for sleep.

Create a calming environment – Make sure that your sleeping area is dark (use blackout curtains if necessary), quiet (use earplugs or noise-canceling headphones if needed), cool (keep temperatures between 60-67°F), and comfortable with plenty of pillows/blankets available for support while lying down throughout the night.

Avoid stimulants before bedtime – Caffeine from coffee/tea/energy drinks should be avoided in late afternoon/evening hours, as well as nicotine from cigarettes which acts like stimulants on our bodies, making us more alert instead of relaxed when we want them most during nighttime hours. Additionally, alcohol consumption too close to going asleep may disrupt normal REM cycles, leading to us feeling groggy upon waking up later on due to its sedative effects wearing off after a few hours, leaving us restless again until morning comes around again soon thereafter.

Thus, creating a vicious cycle all over again unless addressed properly sooner than later, preferably under the guidance provided by experienced psychiatrists in Bhopal who specialize specifically within this field given their expertise & training combined together both professionally & academically speaking, respectively.

Exercise regularly - Regular exercise helps promote better quality deep sleep, especially those activities done outdoors such as walking, jogging, cycling, etc. since they allow one exposure to much-needed sunlight, especially early mornings which keep the body clock regulated accordingly, helping a person fall asleep faster once lights go out at the end of the day.

Manage stress levels - Stress has been linked with insomnia, so try some relaxation techniques before going into the bedroom like meditation/yoga/listening to music, etc., each evening to help ease tensions built up throughout the course of a long tiring day. Thereby allowing a person to drift away peacefully without any worries weighing down heavily upon him/her anymore, no longer either way whatsoever, regardless of the situation that might be presently currently faced with even then.

[writer-at-hooters]

I agree, recently, especially in the past months or more, I have been struggling to stay motivated, keep a sleep schedule, take my meds at better times, and follow through on ideas that it would be possible to pursue. Having struggled with ADHD for my entire life as well as major depression and anxiety when I was in High School, my limitations because of my mental illness often felt blurred with where my own choices ended. This morning I woke up on time for my job interview, but took an extra five minutes in and woke up to find I missed the entire. Seroquel has always left me groggy in the morning unless I was able to access nicotine quickly.

While I was able to stay up late in college and wake up early despite the copious amount of weed and alcohol I was consuming; my work ethic for my job was something that I could get to no matter what, but my academics were always neglected. My relationship with my teachers deteriorated as issues back at home filled me with impending dread because they would end my relationship with my partner who I had been with since my first year got taken online due to the pandemic. As my graduation neared it felt like I was going to gallows due to my own actions. When my father had lung cancer, he didn't tell me or my mom for a while. They were divorced, and he would usually come to the house to get me, but over time he couldn't, or wouldn't pick me up. He began to work long hours with him sleeping for long stretches of the day and working at night. One way or another I was left alone over and over. He would be at work while I was left at home, and when he was home he would be asleep most of the day due to the night, but also due to cancer. For those who aren't familiar, lung cancer has one of the highest mortality out of most types. The first time he told us, he left and I went back into my mom's house honestly unsure of how to feel. What I remember distinctly in that moment was us watching "How it's Made," particularly about whiskey. My mom says words that would have haunted me, "I bet you cause use that right now." As time went on he slowly lost the battle with cancer. While he was in the hospital, I would be playing football, it was in the summer, and then going to the hospital to see him. Ubenounced to me, that my mom was being kept in the dark about his condition and told me that he was getting better. One early morning my mom got called into the hospital and she returned to inform me that he had passed. After that, my relationship with my mom worsened as I played video games by myself, with friends online, but never in person really. With my sports and video games, I wanted to feel some semblance of pride as the people in my life always stood out on the field in games. I know this sounds petty as fuck, but being good, or at least decent enough to myself was something that I felt would "help" me get past the grief. My academics were pretty mid, to say the least.

Over time, I increasingly lost more and more of a grasp on the motivation to do school, sports, the Boy Scouts, or much of anything else as I had gotten to high school. The school,l I went to, was a prep school on the West Coast where you had to pass a test to get in. I found out later that my test scores for it were pretty bad, to say the least. My grades got even worse as the workload piled higher. I kept playing sports outside of school, but at school, I went to tutoring both and outside trying to keep up, but my ADHD, which had not medicated up until this point had me pacing around school after hours waiting to get picked up despite the work I would've/could've been doing. This went on every year with me being on academic probation every year, but the last. Each year I had my mom crying to me about how she feared every call from the school because of struggling so much, yet I managed every class every year except for a language class that needed to be redone. Moreover, my mom never let me play video games for most of these school years, except for the summer where I had no classes really. It leads to me kind of just existing for the most part, Outside of my sports, in which I am consistently the slowest on the team, despite whatever additional practice I did. I started going to therapy when I was sixteen and was formally diagnosed with depression and anxiety, which explained why I basically would just sleep when I got home to not have to deal with my mom and the constant head fog that I had been in at this point. Halfway through high school, my grandma developed chronic kidney disease. This is bad, obviously, but much like being at home, I found myself left alone in a different way as we were at the hospital for close to six, sometimes seven hours. I couldn't do anything so I would walk around aimlessly for hours.

ADHD is a excuse to act like you have ADHD

Autism is a excuse to act autistic.

Depression is a excuse to act depressed.

CPTSD is a excuse to act like you have CPTSD.

In other words being neurodivergent is a excuse to behave neurodivergent.

At one point people said homosexuality is wrong. People's feeling would get hurt by seeing two men kiss or hold hand. Those people where on the wrong side of history. People who don't accept mental health symptoms are playing the victim and they are hurting themselves.

The consequences of having power over someone is the fault of the powerful not the oppressed.

[ghosttownwherenoonegoes]

He just wants his dad // Eddie & Wayne

Summary: as the title says - Eddie just wants his dad. Comfort.💗

It's barely noon when Wayne, a heavy sleeper, is woken up. He only got back from his shift a few hours ago and he had immediately toed off his boots and collapsed into the pull out bed which Eddie had prepared for him before he had left for school that morning. The Munson men had a quiet way of loving each other, understated to all but those who understood.

There's a heavy pressure on Wayne's chest. Sound creeps into his awareness and he registers quiet sniffles, suppressed and muffled by lips pressed tightly together. Wayne shifts and the weight on his chest freezes, the sounds of crying stops and Wayne can only hear his own breathing in the room.

The crying isn't his and only one other person has a key to the trailer, which means...

Wayne's hand lifts and moves into Eddie's hair of its own accord; so strong is his instinct to protect his nephew. Nicotine stained fingers delve into dark, soft curls. Eddie jolts at the first touch, unable to see his uncle move with the way his face is pressed into the blue shirt underneath red and white plaid, but Wayne persists. Gentler at first, to soothe Eddie's scare, but then at the pace he prefers; smooth, steady, constant.

Through his threshold consciousness does he feel Eddie nuzzle his face across, and Wayne moves his hand so he can tilt Eddie's head up. Eddie follows the upward tug and Wayne cracks his eyes open, groggy blues taking in tear soaked cheeks and molten pools of chocolate.

"S'matter, kid?"

Eddie's bottom lip and chin tremble. He shakes his head, exhales roughly, looks down and plucks at Wayne's shirt. "Too much, man. I just - " more tears drip sore down Eddie's face and Wayne brushes them away easily, his body moving by itself. He's not thinking about how to comfort Eddie, it's just happening. It's always been easy to love Eddie. Anger burns hot in Wayne but he channels it into soothing his nephew, taking care of him the way he always has. "School got too much and I didn't even get to see you this morning before I took off and, fuck, I just - " Eddie shook his head as a sob ripped out of his throat. "Got in the van and before I knew it, was here. Saw you, d - " Eddie cuts himself off with a firm headshake, not letting himself say what he was going to.

Wayne watches Eddie try to make himself smaller and touches the back of Eddie's head, pushing down lightly. Eddie gets the hint and rests his head back on Wayne's chest, his ear over his uncle's beating heart. "Finish the sentence, kid," Wayne's voice is gruffer than usual in his sleepiness but his encouragement is warmly intended.

Eddie takes a deep breath, steeling himself to say something he usually doesn't allow him to unless it's in moments like this; when Eddie needs familial love. "Saw you lying here, dad, and I just - " Edie sighs, swipes a hand over his face, "I just wanted a hug. Didn't mean to wake you but it got to me, man."

Wayne hears everything Eddie says but what he listens to is, someone was really mean to me today and I missed you this morning so I came home for a hug.

And it warms him from the inside out.

Wayne smiles and begins to sit up on the bed, making Eddie move. Once Wayne is all the way sat up on the bed, Eddie is moving from the floor and sitting beside him, totally leaning into Wayne. Wayne opens his arms and Eddie falls into the fleshy cage offered to him, more tears soaking his uncle's shirt as he shakes and cries. Wayne sits there, quietly stewing in anger towards whomever or whatever caused his strong nephew to shatter like this, unable to hold himself together in such an intense way that he has come home in the middle of the day for a hug, but shows only love and care towards Eddie. The anger is channelled into love, because that's who Wayne wants to be for Eddie.

The one who always, always steps in and steps up.

"M'sorry, I - "

Wayne cuts Eddie off, "this wasn't you, son. You need a hug, you need anything, you come find me, just like you did today. You know that."

Eddie does know that, he does, and that's why he feels no shame or embarrassment when he squeezes his arms even tighter around Wayne and nuzzles himself home. His tears slow, slow, but Eddie remains where he is and Wayne lets him. He's tired, he wants to go back to sleep, but Eddie isn't done and Wayne's not working tonight, so his body's needs can wait. Anything for Eddie.

Anything.

Everything else fades away until it's just a broken-hearted son and his gentle natured but angry dad and a whole lotta' love. It's what the Munsons always get right.

Love.

eddie & wayne @hellfirebabe @eddiemunsonshoney @potatos-library @bakerstreethound @gemstone-roses @sweetpeapod @authorlovers @jslittlebirdie @heydreamchild @comfortcharactercraze @mywinterivy @corrodedcoffeen @ourstaturestouchtheskies @m00nlight101

[dreams-of-yunho]

du vin en hiver pt. II

yunho x female reader rating: m. genre: new series! smut with a trope twist you all will love! w.c.: 1.4k warnings: none for this chapter :) summary: y/n moves in with her best friend's older brother Yunho and can't help but falling for him. ______________________________________________________________

It was the first, genuinely good night sleep you had gotten in years but you were startled awake by the violent trill of your iPhone alarm, you know the sound. And fucking shit, you had work. Throwing on your uniform and popping a stick of gum in your mouth, you searched through dresser drawers looking for your nicotine patches. These small squares of precious magic that were now a necessity having moved into Yunho’s non-smoking building. 

They’re in the bathroom you thought. 

Grabbing your bag and scurrying down the hall, one shoe half on, belt missing loops, you reached for the bathroom door knob only for it to rebut your advances. A faint light seeped through a crack at the floor, a fine mist rising; someone was in the shower. 

You pounded aggressively on the door, “Jane,” your voice was muffled as you struggled to fasten your watch with your teeth. “I need my nicotine patches! I have to go to work!” The pipes creaked as the water was shut off. You heard the glass door open and the lock to the door turn. Yet, it was Yunho, not Jane, who stood soaking wet in the doorway. 

Blush shot to your cheeks. “Um, I'm just looking for my nicotine patches. I thought maybe I had left them in here.” Your eyes were super glued to the point where the living room flooring met the bathroom tile. 

His eyes were groggy and his plush lips puffy.  “Oh, yeah,” he moved to the side. “Go ahead.” You gave him a meek smile and walked past, into the humid bathroom. 

You rummaged through a few drawers but to no avail. Defeated, you walked past him again. 

As he was closing the door, he stopped and spoke: “y/n.”

You turned around. 

“You look very pretty today,” and he shut the bathroom door. 

Just kind of standing there, you didn’t know how to react. But you couldn’t help a smile from tugging at your lips. 

At work and classes, you couldn’t stop thinking about him: your best friend’s brother. How golden he looked that morning. The way water dripped from his ebony curls. The curve of his cupid’s bow. Fuck, you wanted to kiss those lips. 

A euphoric feeling, untying your shoes and peeling off your socks to feel your feet against the entryway’s carpet. 

“Hello?” Jane’s voice called.

“Hey,” you shoved off your coat and followed your nose to the smell of food in the kitchen. “What did you get?” you asked as Jane placed three plates on the counter.

“I don’t know.” She opened the boxes of food. “Some sort of tomato-ed pasta. Idk Yunho got it, don’t ask me.”

You unwrapped your scarf. “Jeez okay. I’ll be right back, just let me change and wash up.” 

Footsteps advanced. “It’s ravioli, Jane, not rocket science.” You turned to see Yunho standing there: flannel pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt that was just a tad too tight. unconsciously, you soaked up the definition of his arms and chest under the kitchen fluorescents. When you noticed yourself staring, you had to really, intentionally pull your gaze away from him and command your feet to move toward your room. “Sounds good,” you spoke unnaturally. 

Closing the bedroom door behind you, you heard a voice call after you. “Y/n, do you want water or Cola, or,” the bottles in the fridge door rattled as Jane opened it. “We have half a bottle of wine and I think this is orange juice?” 

Your dirtied work uniform was tossed hurriedly on the floor and across your rug. You pulled on a pair of pink lounging sweats and a crew neck with your university’s mascot printed on the front and mystery stain on the right boob. “Water is fine.” You shouted back, pulling the bobby pins out of your hair and scrubbing a makeup wipe over your face. Guiding your feet into your slippers, you opened the bedroom door and walked into the kitchen. 

Yunho and Jane were sitting in the living room on the couch, watching something on the TV. “Your plate is on the counter,” Jane motioned behind her with her fork to the prepared plate of Ravioli and sides. 

“Thanks,” you grabbed the food and went to join them on the couch. 

Sitting in between your two roommates, you crossed your legs, criss-cross-applesauce, to balance the plate on your lap. “What are we watching?” You raised the fork to your mouth. 

“It’s Friends, dumbass,” Jane laughed. 

You took a second look at the TV, recognizing the familiar sitcom. “Oh, yeah,” you agreed.

“Would you rather watch something else?” Yunho reached for the remote. 

You reached out to stop him, placing your hand on his. He stilled. “No, I like Friends.” 

If you had focused, you could’ve felt his pulse beat rapidly at your touch and if you had faced him, you would’ve seen the strawberry-blush grow across the apples of his cheeks. She’s just happy to watch a show with her best friend Yunho though, pulling his hand back to his lap. 

The evening continued like this: the munching of ravioli and your laughs accompanied by the canned ones of the 90’s sitcom. As it got later, Jane leaned into you and pulled a blanket across your legs, her eyelids growing heavy. 

Yawwwwnnnnn, Jane stretched her arms above her head and announced: “I’m going to bed.” 

“Okay,” you extended your plate to her. “Can you put this in the sink pretty please?” You gave her a sweet, eye-crinkling smile. 

“Fine,” she stood and took the plate, motioning for Yunho to hand her his too.

He did, thanking her. “We can watch something else,” Yunho suggested after Jane had gone to bed. 

“Really,” you sank deeper into the warm embrace of the couch. “I’m okay with this.” 

“Okay,” he was oddly silent, you noted. You wondered if he had had a difficult day at work but decided not to pry by asking. Come to think of it, you pondered deeper on the subject, you didn’t really know what he did.

“Yunho,” your voice carried to his ears and he hummed in response. “What kind of work do you do?”

You could hear a smile in his voice. “Data projection for a funds management firm,”

You blinked at him, his words not computing in your little brain. “Ah, and that would mean of course, in layman’s terms if you would?” 

He chuckled. “I look at numbers and then decide if the company will make enough money for what it’s spending.” 

“Yunho, I’m sorry, but that sounds terrible.”

He stretched his arms out in front of himself, cracking his fingers and stretching the muscles of his forearms. “It’s not too bad.” 

You turned to see him smiling at you and it was just one of those moments where you both decided to fuck it and kiss the other person. 

He leaned into your face, his arms supporting himself but careful not to touch you. Your heart pounded furiously in your ears as you closed your eyes and leaned to meet his lips. He exhaled from his nose, his hot breath meeting your cheeks, and every muscle in your body tensed. 

Tentatively, you reached a hand forward and touched his thigh. His hand met your waist in response. 

And then, suddenly, you were making out on the couch. 

Your tongues fought for dominance, his ultimately winning, brushing against your bottom teeth. His hand ran the length of your body and you gripped his thigh. The kiss became harder until he was falling back and you were on top of him. You straddle one of his elevated thighs and tucked your finger under his shirt, kneading the dense muscles of his sides. 

His hands were on your ass, not moving, but resting against the soft fabric of your pants. Your hips threatened to move against him and you could feel him growing against your stomach. And suddenly the situation didn’t feel right. 

Despite the overwhelming softness of his lips, you could taste that half a bottle of wine on his tongue and your heart sank a little. Was he just kissing you cause he was drunk? You pushed gently on his chest and he released your lips. Gazing down into his sparkling eyes, you forced yourself from the couch. “I don’t think we should be doing this.” You turned and ran to your room.

The door slamming behind you, you sank to the floor in the soft glow of the city lights. Your chest heaved as you unwrapped the reality of your situation. Your best friend's brother, your roommate, had drunk-kissed you on the couch. You heard footsteps approach and then veer as Yunho went into his bedroom. But his taste was still in your mouth, spread over your tongue. God, he tasted so good. 

[filthforfriends]

Satin, Lace, and Other Pretty Things

Past 3 is here!!

Thomas x fem reader

Word count: 7k

CW: Gratuitously detailed descriptions of fetish and sex acts.

It’s another night where you hold Thomas as he sleeps, stroking his hair and smelling the crown of his head. Fortunately, tonight it is for far different reasons. Your excitement is keeping you awake rather than worrying. Without intending to, he’d accidentally given you the world’s filthiest shopping list: toys and compatible lube, lingerie, pretty outfits, and all the supplies needed for pegging. Luckily, you’d already checked off the lingerie box and had a package arriving tomorrow. It would be impossible to research and acquire everything else in the next 24 hours. You couldn’t take a sick day to get sex supplies for you boyfriend, although it was temping.

The next morning, you get up before Thomas, a return to normalcy. You’re sipping tea and answering endless emails when he stumbles into the kitchen, bleary eyed. His dirty blond hair is going in every direction and his expression is an adorable mix of groggy and pouting. The comforter must have been too hot because he’s slightly sweaty and his cheeks are flushed.

“You weren’t there when I woke up,” he complains.

“Baby, it’s noon,” you answer, affectionately. Clingy Thomas was so precious that you stood up and wrapped him in a hug.

“Oh,” he croaks, letting out a sigh and giving you so much of his weight in the embrace that you nearly fall over. He freezes. “Shit, I have a fitting at one. Ugh –” He looks back and forth, trying to get his bearings.

“Your cigs are on the window sill,” you supply, knowing he couldn’t start the morning without some nicotine. He places a dramatic kiss on the top of your head, giving you a final squeeze before letting go. Watching Thomas smoke was a guilty pleasure of yours. The way he delicately held the cigarette in his elegant fingers highlighted how large his hands were. Thomas didn’t create a seal around the cigarette with lips puckered everytime he took a drag. He was effortlessly casual, mouth plush, blowing the smoke from the side of his mouth out the kitchen window.

When he reached up to close the window, you spotted the blue waistband of the underwear he’d borrowed before bed. It was cheap fabric, you couldn’t wait to supply him with panties of far better quality and fit. The risks of him wearing womens underwear to a fitting weren’t lost on you.

“Is it going to be the whole band and Nick?” You don’t want to validate Thomas’ feelings of shame, so you’re trying to remind him of his undergarments carefully.

“I think, yeah. All I know is some people from Gucci will be there.” Strangers that may have mutually beneficial relationships with paparazzi and tabloid journalists. There’s no way he wanted this to get out, he hadn’t even been able to tell you.

“Okay baby, you might want to change,” you wince. He looks at you incredulously.

“Yes, of course. I’ve still gotta shower from earlier.” Earlier?

“You showered last night.” Thomas finishes adding sugar to his coffee before speaking.

“Yeah, but I practiced this morning.” His expression is neutral, but you can see him holding back a smirk. The confusion is evident in your features, and he takes his first sip, amused. “You told me to practice yesterday, so I did.” Practice what? Oh my god. You’d told him to masturabate with his legs up, like he was getting fucked, so he’d get used to the position, and he’d actually done it. You mind references back to when Thomas first walked in the kitchen, sweaty and flushed. If that wasn’t sexy enough, he was also wearing your panties. Which means he was probably wearing the when…and that's why he needed to shower.

“You’re gonna be such a good bottom.” He tries to take a drink right as you speak, but ends up spitting the coffee back into the mug and coughing. “Next time, please let me watch.” You hope Thomas feels vindicated, because you feel deeply irritated that Brenda was bitching about the relationship between work ethic and flexible deadlines, while you could have been watching your boyfriend cum in your underwear with his knees to his tummy.

“You really want to watch me jerk off?” he marveled.

“Mhm,” you take a couple steps across the kitchen so you’re standing chest to chest. “And I have another homework assignment for you, since you did so well with this one.” Even though Thomas is nearly a foot taller than you, he seems small, holding his breath and waiting in rapture. “You’re gonna use our lube, and finger yourself.” Everything would be easier if penetration was familiar to Thomas, but your request didn’t land well. His face fell and his gaze turned downward. Immediately you knew you were missing something.

“What is it, baby?” Your hands ran up and down his arms, soothingly.

“I only like it when you do it,” he whispered, staring at the floor. This was immensely flattering, and so endearing, but you wondered.

“Is it that you don’t like it, or are you ashamed of it?” He doesn’t answer, and you don’t make him. Instead, you step into his personal space and roll up on the balls of your feet, rubbing your nose against his affectionately. You kiss all along his jaw and add an extra peck to his chin, then pull back and see that his expression isn’t so negative. The grating ringtone of his phone interrupts your moment.

“Sorry, I might have to answer this.” He cleared his throat, pulling his phone from his back pocket. It's their stylist Nick, so you nod before he even has to say the words.

“Hey, I know we meet at one.” Thomas does this thing you love, one out of a thousand, and wraps his hand around your waist, pulling you against his body. Whenever a phone call or a conversation interrupts an intimate moment, he’ll prioritize you physically. It's a reminder that you’re a priority, that he’s thinking of you even when he is discussing something else, that he loves being close to you. The first time, a Sony executive had interrupted you gushing over Thomas when he got off stage. Thomas had tucked you into his side and snuck a hand up the back of your shirt, running his fingertips along your bare skin. You’d nearly nearly climbed him like a tree in front of god and everybody.

“Okay, thanks. See you later today.” He ended the call with a sigh. “So they pushed the fitting to three, since somebody’s flight got delayed. Which means I’ll probably be home at midnight.” Well, that ruins all your plans tonight. You let out a guttural sigh with your head tilted back. ”I’m sorry cara mia, I know we were supposed to have dinner together.”

“It’s not your fault,” you groan, and throw yourself back into his embrace. A small knock sounds from the door and you perk up right away. The website did say 2-3 business days. How much can you fit in two hours and end with Thomas still mostly functional?

“What’s that?”

“Your present,” you sing, running down the hall.

“My present?” Thomas calls from the kitchen. The postal worker looks startled that you’ve opened the door so quickly, in your excitement. You give her a manic smile before snatching the box off the ground and closing the door behind you. It feels a little heavier than expected, which hopefully means luxurious packaging. You’d hoped to open it before Thomas, make sure everything was presented beautifully. However the prospect of not having to wait might be even better.

“What am I getting a gift for?”

“Oh, you’ll see!” You skip into the bedroom, listening for Thomas behind you. “Bring scissors to open the box.” You smooth out the comforter and sit in the middle of the bed with the package in front of you. There wasn’t anything too adventurous inside, you’d been careful of that. Everything was full coverage: lined, with no cutouts or open backs. Still, it might be too intimidating.

Thomas rounds the doorway, scissors in hand, looking apprehensive. You pat the space across from you enthusiastically. He crawls onto the bed, folding his limbs methodically to sit in front of you. The only gifts previously presented in the bedroom were lingerie sets that you wore for Thomas. Of course, recent conversations gave this present different implications, but he likely thought it was too soon for you to make any related purchase.

“Is it a new guitar strap?” He accentuated his questioning tone by drawing out the first syllable, trying to lighten up the moment for his own sake.

“Nope,” you chirped.

“Is it something vintage?” Second hand finds were some of your favorite gifts to exchange.

“Why don’t you open it,” you coaxed. He took a deep breath and cut through the tape. Inside, was a much nicer box, and you helped him take it out, throwing the cardboard on the floor. Thomas was searching for a label as he opened it, and you realized you should probably say something. You place a hand on his wrist to stop him from pulling back the tissue paper.

“If you don’t like it, I’ll just take it all back. I don’t mind and it’ll be fine,” you blurt. Seeing your nerves, Thomas’ anxiety spikes, and his hands are unsteady as he unwraps the gift. You thank however packaged for putting the least offensive item on top. Black satin bikini cut panties with subtle lace trim. Thomas unfolds them and oogles the cut in the front.

“I didn’t know they made them like this,” he marveled.

“I did a lot of research,” you state neutrally. The look on his face is very encouraging, pure wonder as he runs the fabric between his calloused fingers.

“But how –” Thomas’ brow furrows as he tries to piece together a timeline. “I didn’t think you could get overnight shipping on this kind of thing.” His eyes are tracing every seam as he turns the fabric over and over in his hands

“You can’t.” He looks up, holding the panties delicately in his hands. “I ordered them before I left for Ethan’s.” This doesn’t seem to compute for Thomas. His eyes are wide and clouded with confusion.

“When I researched this, I was immediately into it. Immediately, I wanted to participate and I wanted you to be comfortable so…” you trail off, bashfully. His expression is unreadable. “If it wasn’t the right thing to do, I totally understand. I shouldn’t have just assumed and inserted myself before you were ready.”

“I don’t feel that way at all,” he assures. Thomas reaches a hand out to hold yours, his thumb brushing along the outside. It’s the same gesture you used to comfort him two days ago, and your whole body feels warm, radiating from your chest.

“All I want is for you to be confident in my feelings for you,” you plead. “Cause I’m in this, with you,” you insist, emphatically.

“I feel that now,” he grins, and you can see the shift in his energy. Your heart feels light, and aches with adoration.

“Okay, good” you smile so hard your cheeks hurt, relieved. “And you don’t have to like –”

“Oh, but I do,” he interrupts. “In fact,” he stands up from the bed, “I’m gonna go put them on!” Thomas paces behind you, so your back is turned and you can’t see the process of him changing. You bite back the urge to whine at being deprived of such a glorious visual. He walks back into your line of sight, still wearing a t-shirt. The panties fit perfectly, which means the other pairs likely will as well. The waist is properly snug, and there's no excess fabric in the back. The pouch in the front leaves room for his manhood, and the fit of the leg holes also allocates for that. He lets you see all this by turning at different angles for your benefit.

“Dear god, so, so pretty. Like so pretty,” you emphasized. “Do you like them?” There was no need to ask, Thomas was glowing.

“Yeah, they fit so well,” he exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of his feet. You’d never seen him examine himself in the mirror like this, rotating his hips to watch how the light hit the fabric.

“Come open the rest of your present.” He practically skipped back to the bed, sitting next to you this time. The next layer revealed the all lace pair, a vibrant magenta on what turned out to be nude colored mesh. They were sexy and fun, the kind of underwear you’d first wanted. Thomas’ eyes widened, and you worried they were too much.

“Sorry, those were supposed to be full coverage,” you apologized. He seemed to barely register what you were saying, as he shed the black panties and pulled on the new ones. It was nice to see how little adjustment went into wearing them.

“Those are comfortable, right babe?”

“Mhm,” he responded, traipsing in front of the mirror again. Thomas was so into himself, that he barely gave half a fuck what you thought. It was your new favorite thing to watch him this confident. The panties were high cut enough to cover part of his happy trail. Something about the sight of his body hair disappearing into lace, the contrast of feminine and masculine, drove you up a wall.

“The cut of those looks so sexy on you, baby girl.” Thomas took a break from admiring himself to blush at your words. You could shower him with compliments all day. “Look at how pretty your waist is too.” He pulled his shirt up around his ribcage, and traced his skin as it curved. It gave you half a dozen filthy ideas.

“Pretty girl,” you cooed, watching him get hard. You could see his cock through the lace and it was a gorgeous sight. “My perfect, pretty girl.” At this point you were just acting out of intuition. So far, the results have been excellent. Even though you didn’t know what you were doing, just that it felt good. This dynamic came naturally to the both of you. His earlier comment about wanting to be feminine was very confusing, but you weren’t about to ask Thomas questions about his gender that he didn’t have the answer to. Maybe it wasn’t even about gender. He’d tell you when he figured it out, no point in making him self-conscious.

“Come open your last present,” you impatiently request. This was the one you were most excited about. He took one final look at himself in the mirror and clambered back onto the bed. The tissue paper rustled as he lifted the last pair out. They were like the ones you’d caught him in, but more so. Ruched pink satin, with tons of white lace, and pink bows on the hips, just excessively girlie. His eyes went wide and he touched the fabric like it was going to vaporize any moment.

“You don’t have to –”

“These are my favorite,” he interrupts. You’d expect him to jump up, but he sits there fondling every inch of the fabric. He rubs the ribbon with his fingers and brushes the rouched borders.

“Feel how soft this is.” Real satin is soft, you’ve known this for years. Rather than burst his bubble, you take the panties from him and agree. This allows you to confirm that yes, the quality was worth the price. Thomas seems suddenly jumpy, and you realize it's because he's anxious to get the underwear back in his own hands. There is so much joy in watching him love these gifts, even more than you anticipated.

He tenderly places the magenta lace panties back on the bed, next to the black ones, before refocusing. He’s half hard as he pulls the last pair on, but they fit anyways and this seems to excite Thomas on an entirely pure level. It makes sense. Years thinking there was something wrong with him because cutesy underwear were never made for his consumption, and now suddenly they are. He admires himself in the mirror and you can’t help but notice how perfectly the ruching accentuates his ass.

“Can you take off your shirt?” you blurt. You’d tried to match the creamy white of his skin and pretty pink of his nipples to his panties. He pulls it off, then folds his arms in front of him, vulnerable. You lose the ability to sit and watch without touching, getting off the bed and hugging him from behind. Thomas feels secure enough to drop his arms, and you both gaze at him in the mirror. Greedy, starving, your eyes rake up and down his body, noting the beautifully compatible color palettes.

“It’s even better than I imagined,” you confess, peppering his back with kisses. Thomas lets out a disbelieving huff, and you can’t fathom what flaw he could see in himself right now.

“You really don’t think I look ridiculous?”

“No,” you growl. He’s asking for assurance, but you feel a novel protectiveness over this side of Thomas and it compels you to crave dispelling doubt before it can form. He turns around in your arms, back to the mirror and his lips on your forehead.

“Thank you,” he whispers, and you know the words reach much further than today’s gifts.

“Always.” You kiss Thomas’ sternum, and his chest hair tickles your nose. Shamelessly, you take a deep breath, enjoying the smell of his body. You two stand there, embracing each other, swaying back and forth. His hands move to the hem of your shirt and pull. When you step back to remove your top, Thomas takes advantage of the space to lean in and kiss you, carefully molding his lips to yours. Thomas’ hand is in your hair, pulling gently to tilt your jaw up. Once he’s happy with expanses of your exposed neck, his grip becomes less gentle, keeping you in place. He starts small, grazing his teeth against your skin, and such careful attention to an erogenous zone throbs between your legs. You let out a sigh, leaning against him, as your vocalizations progressively turn into moans.

Thomas works his way up, nips soft then harsh, until he is leaving love bites on your neck. Each mark is accented with the assurance of his tongue, and at some point if his arm was secured around your waist, you would have collapsed. Your head has lulled completely to the side, happy for him to have his way with you, basking in the pleasure of his attention. The sensation of your bra being undone surprises you. How did his hands get there? You’re too lost in the feeling of his lips against your skin, the way they’re tracing up the column of your neck.

“Christ,” you moan, as he sucks on your earlobe.

“Jump,” his breath in your ear sends a shiver to the base of your spine. It takes your muddled brain a second to assign meaning to sounds, but once you’re cognizant, you jump off the ground. Thomas hauls you up his body, bra falling on the floor. Now you’re both topless, and your nipples harden where the brush against his chest. Only then do your eyes truly open, to find the reflection of your boyfriend wearing panties in the mirror. Suddenly, you're not just putty in Thomas' arms, now remembering the task at hand.

“Baby, there’s some prep work I want to do before we jump into any of that new stuff.” You tuck Thomas’ hair behind his ears, tenderly. When he doesn’t respond right away, you backtrack. “But we don’t have to do that today, and if you’ve changed your mind that’s totally fine too. I’m already plenty satisfied.”

“Like what?” He sits on the edge of the bed with you in his arms. You can feel the lace of his underwear brushing against your legs. It really should change something for you, but it doesn’t.

“I wanna get you a lot more comfortable with penetration. So you can relax more, learn how to let me in.” His hand started rapidly tapping on your thigh, a sign of nerves.

“Yeah, okay,” he sighed, finally taking a deep breath. “Are there usually problems when it comes to, um, pegging?” His eyes are so earnest and you wish you knew the perfect words to quell his nerves.

“Your body has to feel safe. I’m never gonna force something and risk hurting you.” You didn’t want Thomas angry at himself because he couldn’t take a strap-on.

“Okay, so I’ll – I’ll clean up, then.” He shifts you off of his lap, hands still fluttering with nerves. Thomas stands in front of you with nervous energy, like he’s not sure how to ask.

“Use the bathroom, then use gentle soap and warm water.” Getting him comfortable with talking about anal was a conquest for another day. “Don’t overdo it, you’ll be fine,” you assure. While Thomas cleans up you give your nails a cautionary filing down, and pull out the oil based lube. Latex gloves were ridiculously hard to get amidst a plague, never mind expensive. You’d gone bare-handed before and didn't mind. It would definitely bother Thomas more than you.

“Babe, you don’t need to make your body a sterile surface,” you call, grabbing a couple dark towels from the closet.

“Okay, out in a sec!” Thomas had changed into the black, understated panties when you’d stepped out of the room, and was now laying on the bed. You crawled towards him, checking the nightstand for all necessary items in your peripheral vision.

Making out was easy and familiar, the weight of his tongue in your mouth, cathartic. It allowed you to grind against him slightly, and after a few moments Thomas was completely hard. You didn’t want to rush him, but your enthusiasm was making that challenging. His bare chest allowed you to place kisses from chin to hem. Since his cock hadn’t escaped the confines of his underwear, you kissed the satin bulge to its root.

Nuzzling between Thomas’ legs was one of your favorite activities, because it allowed you to drink in the warm, heady scent of his groin. However, he’d been so thorough that his inner thighs simply tasted vaguely of soap. The pressure of your nose against his taint sometimes got a reaction if you managed to brush the right spot. This was one of those times, his legs clamping down around your head. Pulling the crotch of his panties to the side, you licked Thomas’ taint, with intention.

“Wha – what, what are you doing?” he stuttered.

“I want to eat you out baby girl. Can I?” His chest was heaving, eyes glassy. Holding his gaze, you kissed Thomas’ inner thigh, demonstrating your affection without crossing a boundary.

“I, um – huh uh” he devolved into a whine as your lips returned to his taint. Pulling on the underwear a little more, you captured a ball into your mouth, at which point his legs were nearly smothering you. He rocked his pelvis forward, against your face, seeking more stimulation. Unfortunately you could only give that to him with continued access to oxygen.

“Can I take off your panties?” you try. Thomas nods, looking downwards at you sitting back on your heels. With some effort, you pull the silken fabric down his legs. Immediately, you return your hands to his skin, rubbing up and down his thighs reassuringly, so he doesn’t feel too exposed.

“I’d like to prop your hips up. Remember, we’ve done that before.” Thomas had almost lost his mind at your suggestion to use a normal pillow during ass play, even with the cover of a towel. He’d gone to a sex shop and gotten everthing imaginable to make the process of receiving more sterile. Water-proof pillow cases, specialty anti-bacterial toy cleaner (despite having no anal toys), dental dams, gloves, a plastic sheet, antiseptic spray, plus harsh internal and external cleaning systems. None of these things had you used previously, in fact you worried about Thomas giving himself a chemical burn. At first, you suspected that Thomas may not want to do butt stuff at all until you saw his reaction.

He’d been on his hands and elbows, face pressed into a pillow, so you couldn’t see his expression. On almost every occasion, he elected to take this position. You didn’t need to see his face, however. His back arched into your hand, toes curling, dislodging the headboard in his grip. Thomas had broken out in a sweat, and his skin was feverish under your non-dominant hand. You thought he might lose consciousness for a moment.

Massage is the best route in anal fingering, but he’d rocked back and forth like he craved thrusting. More so than anything, his pleasure was evidenced by his vocalizations. Thomas moaned like he’d never been touched before, like he was a virgin having their first orgasam. He cried out and whined, begging for more in English and Italian. It was such a passionate, raw response, that you touched yourself to the sound of his pleasure.

Thomas never asked, but when you offered ahead of time, he’d spend an hour in the bathroom in preparation and vibrate with excitement the whole day. On one occasion, you’d designated a couple hours before dinner, but Thomas kept giving you these looks in the morning before work, like he was about to explode. He was so keyed up that you bent him over the kitchen table, just to be humane. You’d ended up using olive oil as lube, because it was the best thing in reach. Once you’d started he pleaded with you pitifully not to stop, and you couldn't bring yourself to leave the room. Thomas came shaking, thanking you profusely as his spunk marked the tile. His voice cracked and chest heaved, like he was an inch away from outright crying. You wondered if he’d ever forgive himself for enjoying this, so he could take more than a single finger.

“I’ll just use the same one as last time, okay?” You pulled a contoured pillow you’d purchased just for this out from under the bed. Thomas had thought of everything besides his own comfort. He held his breath as he lifted his hips, watching as you situated it.

“Is that comfortable, baby girl?” Thomas nods, holding fistfuls of the bedding in a vice grip. He continues to look when you lean over to grab the lube, and settle back between his legs. Thomas actually jumps at the pop of the cap opening.

“Can you tell me before you…you, um –”

“I’m just touching you on the outside, right now,” you assure. His neck was strained as he watched every action. You hadn’t even started and already knew he was too tense for this to work.

“Tommy I’m gonna need you to be really honest throughout this, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” he quaked.

“So when I check in, please just tell me exactly how you’re feeling.” He nods obediently. Trying not to visibly sigh, you reassess the situation. Every scenario just ends up with him tensing, so you lube up one hand and try a different tactic. It's the same one that worked on you, kissing and warming up slowly.

You lay beside Thomas and leaned in to kiss him. He seemed surprised at that direction, but happily settled into something safe. Your tongue took its time running along the seam of his lips, before pushing inside, and his mouth fell open in response. Thomas’ head finally relaxed against the pillow, and you applied pressure to his taint. This was ordinary touch in your sex lives. Thomas’ prostate was very accessible externally and it was such good stimulation.

Trying not to build anticipation, your fingers further dipped further down to his rim and started gently massaging. There was no forceful pressure, the only way you ended up inside is if Thomas let you.

“Too fast,” he squealed into the kiss.

“Okay,” you chirp, encouragingly. You move your fingers back up to his taint, and search for his sweet spot. “Are you okay with this?”

“Mhm,” he nods, and you decide to follow up with positive reinforcement. Leaving his lips free to communicate, you move down to kissing his neck.

“What a good girl, listening so well,” you coo, licking the shell of his ear. “You told me so perfectly too.” Thomas tilts his head to allow you more room, and you can see him smile. You decide to lick each of his visible teeth, which results in you kissing his mouth again, this time more passionately. He bucks his hips when your fingers finally find the right place, and his arm wraps itself around your waist, pulling you close. The kiss devolves into him moaning into your mouth, milky clear pre-cum dripping from his cock.

His free hand reaches to yours, pushing further down. With Thomas' permission, you dip back down, trying to soften his entrance. Instead of remaining stationary, you rub back up to his p-spot, then back down over his anus, combining the new movement with something he already likes. Finally, you get a satisfied hum from Thomas, his eyes half closed. His body starts to give, just a little bit, and you refocus your attention to his rim.

Trying not to ruin the progress, you reach over for more lube, and situate yourself between his legs. Now that you can actually see what you’re doing, the process becomes easier. Tentatively, you take one of his legs and bring it up to your shoulder. With additional lube, everything becomes slippery, and thereby easier. Thomas starts rocking against your hand, all the sensitive nerve endings in that area waking up in response to your touch. His eyes are closed, and his mouth has started to relax. It's beautiful to watch him give into this.

“So beautiful already,” you compliment. He smiles again, and lets out a happy hum. The entrance to his body has become malleable, and you know he can take a finger if he lets himself psychologically.

“Kitten, can you touch yourself please?” He whines and arches dramatically into your hand, causing just the tip of your finger entering him. He wraps a hand around his cock and you let get into a rhythm.

“My pretty kitty is still doing such a good job listening.” Thomas starts mercilessly tugging at his cock in response, groaning pornographcally. “Don’t cum just yet kitten.” He grimaces but slows down obediently. “Such a good girl,” you sing, rubbing his thigh, then kissing his ankle for good measure. “So, so fucking perfect, and so ready too. How do you feel, baby girl?” He simply whines, his spare hand searching for you with his eyes closed. You guide it to your thigh to give him something to grab.

“Are you saying you feel good?”

“Yes, yes,” he murmurs, squeezing.

“Okay, just a little bit of pressure.” Thomas was so lost in pleasure that a little bit of anything didn’t matter. Until you pressed the first half of your finger inside, and he was left with a completely new sensation. You felt him tense, watched his eyes fly open.

“Does this hurt?” you immediately asked.

“No, but gloves. You’re not wearing gloves!”

“We’re out of gloves, and it's okay. Sometimes I don’t wear them,” you sooth. “Please just lay back and relax baby. We’ve made such good progress and I’m so proud of you.” He lets himself fall back into the bed, hands covering his face. “Check in?”

“I want to keep going, I just feel self-conscious.” he sighs.

“Anything else?”

“Like, insecure.” His voice catches a bit at the end.

“Baby, I’m washing my hands at the end of this no matter what.” He bites his lip, trying to fight a smile. “I literally spent the past half hour trying to get my finger inside you like –” his ribcage starts to shake in laughter and you can’t help but join. “Only one of us is concerned here,” you joke. “Can I please see your pretty face?” Thomas puts his hands down, and looks at you, eyes glassy. You can’t tell if he’s shed any tears or not.

“Check in?”

“Keep going,” he answers, timidly. You remove your finger, apply more lube, and try to push in half way, but he’s tensing again. Bringing his other leg up, Thomas shifts his hips to get more comfortable.

“You’re already part of the way there,” you encourage. “Can we just breathe together for a sec?” Thomas nods, and takes a deep breath in time with you. Each exhale, you softly say “relax.” In the new position, you apply light, consistent pressure so the intrusion is very gradual. Once his body has some give, you push your finger in all the way, and stay still while he acclimates. You can feel him squeeze, testing the sensation of penetration.

“Is that the whole finger?” he gasps.

“Yep, you did it kitten,” you beam. Next comes the part that makes this all worth it. You start rubbing the pad of your finger against his walls at an upward angle, searching for the prostate. It's much easier to find internally, and his hips are erratically bucking in no time. Thomas lets out a whine with his head thrown back, neck flushed, and fists tearing at the sheets. You know it feels good from his reaction, so you apply a little more force, and a larger area of movement.

“Uh, uh, fuck,” he moans, undualting his entire body to seek out the friction. “Fuck, god yes, plese yes, please…” Your middle finger comes to massage his rim as well. Which is something you’d attempted, but never succeeded at integrating. Fresh lube was added to your middle finger, and you applied the slightest amount of pleasure while massaging your way past his rim at a snail's pace.

“You can touch yourself baby girl,” you encourage, giving him some pleasure that was familiar and within his control. Thomas’ hand rose to his cock then faltered. He never had a problem with this when you took him from behind.

“Check in?”

“Keep going,” he grunted.

“Baby –”

“I feel the same.” Insecure and self-conscious. That wasn’t ideal. The change in position put his actions on display for you, giving a clearer view. He probably felt more vulnerable to rejection like this, and Thomas’ relationship with his sexuality left a lot of room for improvement.

“Do you need someone to give you permission to enjoy this? Because I give you permission to love this kind of touch, and I know you do.” Finally, you dip the tip of your second finger inside, testing the diameter stretch. Thomas’ face is crumpled, discomfort from feeling too many things at once.

“You’re allowed to want this baby.”

“I am?” he squeaks, in his smallest voice.

“Of course you are,” you gush. “You’re allowed to desire anal play, and ask for it. You’re allowed to touch yourself however you want, and it doesn’t make you wrong or strange.” With the second finger to the first knuckle, you twist your fingers back and forth, brushing the prostate while also making room. Thomas and squeezes your thigh instead of covering his face. You reach down and lace your fingers together, somehow this extra ounce of intimacy is what finally causes the tears to spill over. When he cries, his body actually relaxes, no longer trying to repress anything.

“I’m not sad,” he exclaims. “It’s just a lot and sometimes I wish I was, like, normal.” And there’s what he’s been holding back. He takes a shuddering breath in, and when he lets it out, you insert the second finger a little further, so both are halfway.

“I don’t wish you were vanilla. I just wish you’d give yourself permission.” Thomas gesticulates like he doesn’t know how to respond, then covers his face again. You don’t move, letting him acclimate some more, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Baby girl, I’m so satisfied with our intimate life,” you consoled. He nods and his breathing becomes less dramatic. “If you need reassurance, please just ask me next time.” Thomas wipes his eyes, and sniffles, muttering an apology, before looking at you.

“Check in?” He’s so dear that you want to scream.

“I’m great,” you answer, simply. “Can we keep going?”

“Yeah,” he whispers. His hands are twisted in the sheets again, and it prompts the realization that movement is how he physically works through anxiety.

“Baby girl, can you rock our hips a little, just however you want to.” Thomas looks confused, but he starts making clockwise circles with his pelvis. “Just focus on that,” you coach. His eyes turned upwards, towards the ceiling, and you applied more lube. He’s half soft, so maybe orgasam didn’t need to be the focus of today.

“Pressure,” you warned. Thomas closed his eyes, willing his body to relax, and with a little bit of force, you were able to sink to the last knuckle. When his eyes fluttered open, after you stilled, he saw your full smile, and the corners of his mouth turned up on the sides too.

“That's two?” He confirmed, excited.

“Mhm, you did great. kitten. I knew you could do it.” You kissed his shins and adjusted his legs on your shoulders.

“Is that half or?”

“That’s all the way,” you announce, wiggling your fingers inside as punctuation. Thomas’ breath catches in his throat, and you start making come hither motions. That gets a huge reaction from him. He cries out, hands flying to the bedding to the headboard. The rocking of his body changes direction, trying to find a rhythm with your hand, and you can see him break out in a sweat on his sternum. Thomas winces in pleasure, but as you speed up the gentle massaging of his prostate, his mouth falls open in pleasure, totally relaxed.

“Please, please, please,” he whimpers repeatedly. Each time the pitch gets high and more hysterical.

“What does my pretty kitten need?” you coo. Ruthlessly, your thumb finds his sweet spot externally, pinching his prostate between your fingers. Thomas literally kicks you in the face, without even noticing. He arches off the bed, moans turning into loud whimpers. The stimulation has his cock crimson read and leaking pre-cum. His thighs are trying to close around your hand to keep it where it is. Just like in orgasam, the sudden onset of stimulation makes his entire body cramp and lock down.

“Pretty kitty, don’t forget to rock your hips.” His mouth forms the words before he manages to vocalize them. He tries to speak but ends up moaning, his palm hitting the headboard in a state of overwhelm. You can’t make him cum if he breaks the bed. Dropping his hand, you guide his hips in motion.

“Rock your hips,” you command, this time without any diminutives. This gets his attention, and he obeys, hand sliding from the head board, taking some gasping breaths.

“Good girl.”

“More, y/n. Please more,” he pants.

“Are you–”

“Di piu, di piu,” he begs, switching to Italian. You can feel that in your cunt like an electrical shock.  When you don’t speed up immediately, he starts pushing at your hand, the tendons in his arm straining. Focusing, you do your best impersonation of a vibrator with your fingers, and he falls apart. Thomas hips snap forwards, while his ankles pound on your shoulders. If you hadn’t been two fingers deep the movement of his groin would have thrown your hand off. Having his body this reactive wasn’t anything short of fantastic, you’d just need to work with him.

“No, no don’t stop, di piu,” he moaned pitifully, sounding like he was nearly crying. There weren’t any tears on his cheeks, but he was flushed like a sunburn. You were going to explain that it's hard to rub the prostate of a moving target, but instead you pinned his hips down with your free hand.

“Non fermarti. God, please, please,” he was whining like a woman, absolutely frantic. In the early days, you would have assured him that you weren’t going to stop, don’t worry, but this was just an externalization of the build to orgasam. Thomas’ head was tossing side to side, pressing his body into your hand. His nails raked down your thigh, searching for the hand that was busy keeping him on the bed.

It was poetic. To see him crushed under so many layers of fear, afraid of his own body. Now this celebration of sensation, between his quivering thighs, dusted with dark hair. His body was reduced to a vessel for pleasure. That was its only function, just because he’d allowed himself to let go, let go in your hands. The reward for defeating self doubt had been bliss. It wasn’t anything less than exactly what Thomas deserved.

“Pretty kitten, I know you wanna cum,” you purred.

“Dio santo, please, please,” he babbled, and the tears fell. He was right on the edge, and likely didn’t have the coordination to help himself. Moving your hand up, you gave his cock a few strokes, his viscis pre-cum coating your palm. He came almost immediately, throbbing in your first. During his climax, it was all you could do to maintain pressure internally, as his entire body heaved with pleasure. It was so dramatic that spit had collected in the corners of his open mouth and his eyes rolled back in his head.

You reflected, while watching the spunk splash on his abdomen. It was a cherished experience, to build Thomas up to a peak and be there to catch him on the other side. You loved every part of guiding him through pleasure. Orchestrating the perfect orgasam for Thomas was rewarding in a way that nurtured the soul. That's what you thought about, as he returned to earth, as you wiped off your hand and his stomach, and you lay down on his chest. Sex should be an act of self love.

Notes: I'm sorry that I haven't posted a fic in over a week. Do you like this kind of stuff? Like details galore, slow paced, realistic or is it boring and you just want to get to the fucking already? Thanks for reading! Please tell me if tags are/aren't working.

Masterlist

@gr8rainbowpunk @homesicam @hiraetheral @l0standn0tf0und @iosonoarina @teenyweenynightghost @elvirabelle @8iunie @immrbrightsideeee @idyllicbutterfly @ilwiwbysmv @superchrystaldrug @que--sera--sera @theimpossiblehologramtree @blackberryblossom @weareoddlydrawn @asianhawkeye @butkutee @iamtashaquinn @maneslut @maneskintifoso @little-moonbeam-666 @girlnred @maneskinyakaar @thewitchinthemountain @teacosea @whore4damia @ohdamiano @wasteddoubts @maneskindiva @ethaneskin

[the-wolf-who-kissed-the-moon]

• Lady Dimitrescu x female reader 💋

• Warnings ⚠️ : graphic depictions of violence, gore, blood, very strong horror elements, Stockholm Syndrome, mental anguish, character death.

glass angel, part XV.

Smoke took the shape of vile specters as it floated around your groggy head. Through its gray veil, brilliant yellow eyes peered at you with inhuman hunger whilst large drops of murky blood oozed from grinning mouths. Dark, tar-like lips would lean close, murmuring bone-chilling threats which you never truly deciphered. Your body felt sedated, heavy like lead, your voice muted as if you were trapped in a lucid nightmare.

To your distress, this wasn’t a dream.

Satin fingers caressed your navel lovingly, instantly drawing your attention to the woman of your heart's desire. Her features were so alluring in their wickedness, you’d fall for her again, had it not been for the palpable fear making your teeth chatter. You pushed your knees closed defiantly, struggling to free your arms from the daughters’ ruthless grips. Behind you, their sickening breaths of joy were like violent daggers, stabbing the back of your head, deafening and painful. You’ve heard those shrills late at night, in your dreams, even in the brightest hours of the day –

Play with us,

Come out, come out!

You managed to run and slip through their murderous fingers, only to end up caught in the web of their equally devilish mother.

“.. wh… why?...why-"

A quiet sob left you. Anguished tears threatened to spill from the corners of your eyes as you watched the graceful matriarch. Your heart shattered at the realization that she was the monster slithering behind the walls in the dark, moving beneath the bedsheets and stalking you from every haunted corner. She was the embodiment of your night terrors, and so very cruel for playing the part of a caring, gentle woman by day.

Alcina’s perfect countenance was void of emotion as she, almost tenderly, caressed the soft dips and curves of your chest. Her touch was agonizing as it neared your heart, strange and unfamiliar against your feverish skin. You could’ve sworn you caught a glimpse of regret in her beautiful eyes when she met your terrified look. The lady of the castle was a true enigma, one which you’ve never had the chance to unravel. Her cigarette died with a final inhale, and through the thick cloud of nicotine, her bewitching gaze flickered with carnivorous lust.

A smaller, vicious hand smacked over your lips, holding your head down when you begun to shake violently. Your throat swelled with involuntary screams as your legs were forced apart and pinned to the torture table, powerless. You tried to bite into the palm that muffled your panicked cries, yet your mouth filled with large, crawling bugs. Appalled, you struggled to spit the insects out and soothe your air-deprived lungs. A heavy taste of rot and blood melted the sweetness of your mouth, leaving you to choke on a deep feeling of disgust. Heavy swarms of buzzing flies suddenly flooded the ceiling, taking the lights out and throwing you in an endless pit of despair.

I don’t want to die… I don’t want to die…

You clenched your teeth painfully tight, convinced you’d drown either in foul water or those dreadful roaches. Large palms cupped the gentle curves of your nude body, a feeling that once made you arch in willing surrender. Now, the blinding thought of death occupied every corner of your mind, making you wail like a slaughtered lamb.

Massive jaws tore into your limbs deeply, canines scraping bone as they split your flesh apart. Blood flowed abundantly from the gaping wound, into the feral mouth latched onto your inner thigh. Small, crimson rivulets pooled beneath you on the table as Lady Dimitrescu suckled your raw flesh with greedy hunger, familiar tongue lapping at the gash almost sensually. The sound of warm meat crushing between teeth filled your throat with bitterness, bile ready to spill.

Delirious, you begun replaying moments of your life when you were happy, safe in the company of loved ones who would never do you harm – your life flashing before your eyes.

Somehow, in the midst of your horrid torture, bolts of euphoria rushed through your broken limbs, akin to the ones you’ve felt when your lady’s masterful tongue pleasured you. Was this your brain's laughable attempt to bring comfort in those harrowing moments? Alcina leered with unsated appetite whilst thick blood overflowed her flawless chin, pooling in between her large breasts.

The velvety feel of her smooth tongue was excruciating, blinding you with ripples of debilitating pain, only to forcefully draw sensual pleasure out of you the next moment. You suddenly climaxed, yet the orgasmic bliss was barely able to compensate for the agony of being eaten alive.

It was a never-ending dance of extremities which blurred the lines between good and evil, reality and dream. You floated in and out of consciousness as life was stolen from you, drained through vampiric indentations drilled into your still-living flesh. At times, you’d see swarms of darkness clouding the pristine ceiling and you were sure the daughters were feeding on you as well. But you soon realized they were only there to aid their mother in whatever unholy ritual she was subjecting you to. Scarlet lips savored your skin with sensual kisses, smearing your life essence from the throbbing injuries on your thighs to the vulnerable warmth in between. You fearfully anticipated another agonizing bite, yet it never came. Instead, pleasure pooled hotly in your core as she painted your flower red, brining you yet again to the heights of forbidden ecstasy.

“A Phoenix needs to be consumed by flames in order to be born anew.”

Alcina murmured sweetly, resting her large palm at the base of your throat, gentle thumb stroking your weak pulse. You wished you could’ve hated her for what she was doing, for what she’d done, yet only naive adoration filled your chest at the sight of her dazzling eyes. She pulled away from your burning flesh, swallowing deeply. Even freed, your limbs were useless as you watched her with unfocused, half-lidded eyes. Your senses were shutting down rapidly from the copious amount of blood loss, each strangled breath threatening to be your last.

The madam stood to her magnificent height, towering over you as she paced about the room and observed you closely. At times you swore you saw a concerned frown darkening her flawless features, and then she’d smile mischievously while threading long fingers through your hair, touching your cold forehead. When the door opened and her perfume dissipated, you finally let your heavy lids fall close.

Her daughters gathered around you in her absence, eager to lap each precious trace of blood off your weak body. Their mouths were large, grotesque slugs, their fingers crawling insect legs, picking at your tender wounds. Feeling awful, you groaned and shifted with the last bits of strength you could muster. A sudden weight crushed your chest, making you heave as if you were about to vomit all the pain, the distress, the horror of being there.

Grisly faces loomed over you whilst you were carefully laid upon the floor on a single white bedsheet. Then, in the blink of an eye, the three macabre figures exploded into restless insects, taking away the chamber's light. In the overwhelming gloom, you heard the sound of your own sternum breaking, bone shards making a home into your dry flesh. Strangely, you didn’t feel a thing, as if you were naught but a corpse on the autopsy table, your soul damned to linger in its decaying shell. Something moved within you, slithering between your ribs and feeding on your heart, your lungs.

Dim candles came to life, revealing the charming image of Lady Dimitrescu kneeling over you, as beautiful as the moment you first saw her. She took your lips in a sensual kiss, and with it, your last breath.

-          To be continued...

*part XVI.

[feelin-woozy]

Title: Beyond Forever

Word Count: 956

Pairing: Bo Sinclair x trans masc reader

Warnings: somnophilia

Warm waves begin to wash over you, slowly coaxing you towards the beginnings of wakefulness. Each time the tide recedes, gooseflesh threatens to rise as an unnatural heat crawls along your flesh. You don’t pay much mind to it, instead pressing your face into the soft down pillows. For one, it was summertime in Louisiana, and secondly, you truly couldn’t bring yourself to care. You fight vehemently against the looming threat of consciousness, the soft blackness that still cradles you within its arms, seemingly much more appealing than anything that being awake could offer should you open your eyes.

Fabric rustles, brushing along your legs. It soaks up and drags the beginning of sweat uncomfortably against your flesh. The world goes still once more, and you find yourself slowly floating back into the soft darkness. The world around you drifts further and further away with each breath you take till thoughts begin to go fuzzy around the edges, and you find yourself having more prolonged periods of emptiness between thoughts.

It may have only been a minute, maybe five or perhaps longer, you’re not sure, as the concept of time currently feels akin to astrophysics. But then you feel the waves return, slowly dragging you back into a state of wakefulness. There’s coiling within yourself as if caught within the warmth of an undercurrent. It sweeps through your body, saturating every nerve to the point you feel that you’re drowning.

A low noise tumbles past your lips, muted only by the way your chapped lips press into the pillow. Sleep begins to drift further from your grasp, grogginess taking its place. You shift lazily, feeling the way damp sheets cling to your body and the way calloused fingers dig into the soft parts of your flesh.

Another noise passes, this one forced out. As if something had reached within you to tear it out. You open your eyes, the world around you still enshrouded with darkness. Despite the grogginess that fills your mind, your vision swims with the remnants of sleep still. You blink a few times, futilely attempting to clear your vision, and ground yourself in reality and not a subliminal space between wakefulness and sleep.

“Shh, you’re so pretty when you’re sleepin’,” The words are soft despite the gruffness that makes the edges bristle. They fill you with warmth, turning your bones to jelly and allowing you to sink back into the mattress. Bo hums his approval, and you can’t help but smile against the pillow. “There we go.”

You feel it now, the slow, purposeful drag of his cock and the way his fingers curl and hold you steady under him. The wet squelch of lube hangs obscenely in the air around you, making itself known with each lazy thrust. A part of you wants to press your ass back against Bo to tempt him into tearing you apart in his usual way that drips with depravity. But there’s something about this softness, the way his hips roll with a careful calculation that you can’t get enough of. So you lay there, allowing yourself to be at his mercy and take whatever he bestows upon you.

Bo’s hands move, dragging from where they rest carefully on your hips down along your torso. They stop for a moment, lingering and dragging along the smooth scars along your pectorals. There’s something so tender about it that it almost makes your body quake with a sob. You bite your lip, teeth digging in to keep yourself at bay. A hand continues its venture, slowly traversing till it rests along the flushed column of your throat.

It’s closer to what you’ve come to associate with Bo, that filthiness that makes your toes curl and your muscles go taut. It starts a war within yourself, a bitter fight that has your mind crying for more of that. To be taken apart so brutally that you’re left sniveling and sore against the sheets, but the idea of being taken apart delicately is so foreign to you that your mouth nearly salivates at the thought.

Bo doesn’t squeeze; he just rests his hand there. Feeling the way your pulse flutters erratically under his fingers. The feeling of his fingers against your carotid artery is enough to make your thighs tense, the mere threat enough to rile you up.

“Wanna know something?” He presses his lips to your ear, the familiar scent of nicotine and whiskey filling your senses. You wonder briefly if he was drunk if that was the reasoning behind this sudden tenderness he displayed for you. You don’t have much time to think, though, as his hips roll against you once more, a little harder this time. It makes you whimper, involuntarily pressing back into him. “You took me so well, even asleep your body fuckin’ needs me. Didn’t even fight when I was pressin’ into your ass, just slid right in.”

You whine, fingers curling into the sheets below. Bo huffs out a laugh, warm air puffing out against your ear that makes you shiver. He presses a kiss to the side of your head, lingering for a moment before speaking, “Like knowing your body is mine? Ready for me whenever I want?”

“Yes, Bo.” The words are raw, catching in your throat in a tired rasp. You can’t bring yourself to say more; the formulation of words beyond a reaffirmation of the filth he spews is much too daunting. You’re confident that alone was making pride swell within his chest, and you loathe yourself for feeding into it.

“That’s my good boy.” You feel the way his lips pull into a smirk at the words, and you can’t help the shudder that rolls through your body.

[sketchguk]

a world alone; myg

➳ pairing: vampire!yoongi, street racer!yoongi x reader

➳ genre: modern vampire AU, street racer AU, bad boy AU, fwb AU, smut, fluff, angst

➳ wc: 11.3k

➳ synopsis: the rest of the world will pay no mind to yoongi’s gentle soul. they’ll take one look at his etched skin, bruised knuckles, and gnarly scar and write him off as the bad guy regardless of the faded heart he wears on his sleeve. they think they know everything about your best friend, yet they’ll never know about his bloodlust and his need for speed.

➳ warnings: explicit language, mentions of drug and alcohol consumption, heavy petting, blood sucking, menstrual blood, oral (f receiving), handjobs, fingering, unprotected sex.

➳ a/n: this is dedicated to my delightful destinee, @yourdelights​ 🥺💖 i was heavily inspired by Lorde’s music, and I’m dying for her comeback!! yoongi’s character was also based on jess’ character from gilmore girls (shout-out to vic for reigniting my love for that show @minsprings​ !!)

Your parents always warn you about hanging out with the wrong crowd. They’re under the false impression that anyone who surfs the internet for “fun” and recreationally smokes weed in their parents’ basement — two crimes worthy of capital punishment — is inherently the offspring of Satan.

It’s quite melodramatic to say the least, but they don’t even know the half of it.

Sure, you understand the consequences of drinking fireballs until your throat is raw and getting plastered beyond recognition. You can also see why it’d be a bad idea to stick and poke needles into one another’s arms or to have unprotected sex. It’s inevitably a part of suburban culture when there’s nothing else to do in this deadbeat town besides pray to a God who doesn’t even care to listen.

But if they think their advice is going to stop you from being a quote unquote deadbeat, they’re gravely mistaken.  

There’s no harm in a little bit of indulgence, right? Because if there’s one thing you can’t wrap your head around, it’s reasons to stay away from Min Yoongi.

They claim that the infamous bad boy is “nothing but trouble,” but to you, there’s absolutely nothing dangerous about his warm eyes and gentle hands. He may be a little wild and fluorescent in the dark, but under the moonlight, the way he wraps you around in his ink spattered arms makes you feel safer than no other. Although Yoongi is anything but perfect, you can easily acknowledge that.

Yoongi has his flaws. A million and one bad habits to kick. He has tired eyes, no doubt from his unhealthy lack of sleep. His caffeine addiction keeps him up at night, yet you can’t help but spur it every time you secretly drop by his place with an americano in hand. Not only is his hot breath laced with coffee beans, but on occasion, it’s unmistakably mingled with some potent nicotine. To be quite honest, the taste isn’t as bad as your parents describe it to be. You’ve been trying to wean him off of it though, and it’s been working for the most part.

Rather, in place of smoking a pack a week, Yoongi subconsciously bites his nails. Even though chewing off his cuticles isn’t a healthy substitute either, it’s certainly better than killing his lungs and filling it with smoke. You can also admit to biting your own nails out of fear or anxiety sometimes, but ever since you started to hang around the older boy, the habit has diminished significantly. Nowadays, your mouth is fixated on other things your mother wouldn’t be proud to hear about.

In the hazy, quiet of the night, when the rest of the world is fast asleep, you situate yourself on top of Yoongi’s lap, straddling him on either side of his thigh just like clockwork. The novel you were once reading is long forgotten from your dainty hands, too busy carding it through his dark locks and pulling at his roots. Your mouths are preoccupied with one another as he’s the one to bite your lip, and you’re the one to bite your tongue, holding back secrets he’s not ready to hear.

With parted lips and clashing teeth, Yoongi rolls his tongue around yours. In a fight for dominance, you’d gladly submit to him any day. A gasp falls between your teeth and a shiver runs down your spine as he trails his cold hands down your sides, rubbing circles into your exposed hip bones with his calloused thumbs, never daring to dip further south without your permission.

He peppers kisses down the column of your throat with his swollen lips, sucking bruises into the tender skin. Yoongi focuses his attention at the base of your neck, lapping at the pretty love bites adorning your clavicle. You brace yourself for what’s to come by squeezing at his broad shoulders. Growing restless, you begin to bounce on his lap, begging for him to use you at his disposal.

The faint glow of the overhead lamp illuminates his profile, his honey skin glistening in the low light. Your heavy lidded eyes wills itself to open up, meeting your sight with the man beneath you. While your eyes darken with lust, a clouded vision of Yoongi overcomes you ー his pupils shining with an otherworldly brilliance, a golden glare so intense that you fall prey to him every night.

Your sultry eyes are pleading for him to sink his teeth into your flesh, and who is Yoongi to deny you of all the finer things in life? He caresses your waist with a soft touch, gently squeezing at your sides as if he’s too afraid to let go, but Yoongi is vastly acute of all your reactions. So with the nod of your head and a whisper of affirmation, you confess that you want this ー him ー more than anything in the world.

Yoongi runs his tongue over the most sensitive parts of your neck, sucking on the prominent vein at the juncture of your shoulder. He slows down to massage his teeth into your skin, biting gently before piercing your jugular with his canine fangs. All the blood in your body rushes through your vessels, satiating Yoongi’s bloodlust thirst. You’re at a loss of breath, panting heavily as you overheat under the scope of his fiery glare and the electrifying graze of his extremities.

In any other lifetime, you would revolt at the sight of blood and its metallic taste, yet in this time and space, you would allow your best friend to do anything he pleases ー even if his greatest wish is to suck the life out of you. To Yoongi, your viscous blood is sickly sweet and beyond addicting. He doesn’t have a clue as to why he’d ever pick up another cigarette when you’re the only addiction he needs.

As the life drains out of you, one drop of blood at a time, you can feel yourself grow weaker in Yoongi’s arms. You fall limp, becoming a victim to his voracious fervor. But Yoongi understands your limits, being so in tune to your body, and he’s sure to stop before you descend into a comatose.

Your lungs are starting to cave inside of you as heavy sighs escape from your parted lips. Weakly tugging on the strands of Yoongi’s hair, you warn him of the dangerous territory he’s about to enter.

Yoongi suckles at your punctured skin, running his tongue over the point of contact before retracting his fangs and sealing the wound he had gouged with a kiss. He wipes his mouth clean of any residue with the back of his hand, whispering a thank you into the shell of your ear.

You nod your head and wrap your arms around Yoongi’s neck to catch your breath, barely even conscious of his soft coos and gentle caresses. Your head is spinning on an axis, but you allow yourself to fall deeper into Yoongi’s arms, fully knowing that he’s always going to be the one to catch you no matter what.

His sweet nothings reverberate around your skull ー a deep voice echoing like a polyphony, lulling you into your rapture. He brushes your hair back behind your head, and before you know it, your cheek is nuzzling into the cotton of the pillows as he lowers your body onto the firm mattress.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been asleep for, but Yoongi’s delicate voice and quiet hushes bring you back to earth. You can feel his slightly chapped lips planting a kiss at the top of your temple and the soft tickle of his fingers tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Yoongi calls you by your name, fanning his breath over your plush cheeks until you stir back into reality. In your groggy state, your eyes unwillingly blink open, and although your vision is blurry, the sight of Yoongi and his precious smile is clear as day.

He helps you to sit up before passing you a glass of your favorite concoction. While you’re still stuck in a daze, your face instantly lights up at the sight of the tiny cocktail umbrella sitting at the rim of your cup.

“Small umbrellas bring big smiles,” he offers, “Drink up.”

It’s cheesy as hell, but you throw your head back to take a sip, making it all the more difficult for yourself when you can’t erase the larger than life smile from your lips. You’re instantly hit with the earthy taste of greens as there’s a mixture of kale, cucumber, and celery, but most importantly, Yoongi is sure to throw in a generous amount of spinach to replenish the iron that you’ve lost from his feasting. Even though most people would rather die than drink a blend of vegetables, you’re no stranger to Yoongi's Midas touch in the kitchen. He’s an expert when it comes to food, always going above and beyond without even trying. You can’t even fathom how a carnivore like him has gone as far as creating the perfect vegetarian steak as per your request – mentioned jokingly in passing, of course.

“You hungry?” He inquires.

You shake your head no, but he’s all ready to step back into the kitchen to prepare you a meal from the sparse ingredients in his low-humming fridge.

“Just want you beside me,” you pout, reaching for his hand, encouraging him to climb underneath the covers with you.

Yoongi gives into your wishes, interlacing his fingers with yours like it’s second nature. You lower your drink onto the stack of books designed to be a makeshift nightstand as he reaches for your paperback copy of Metamorphoses, lying precariously at the edge of the mattress. He settles beside you as you comfortably situate yourself across the bed, laying your head onto his lap and scrunching up into a fetal position.

Too wrapped up in your own world, you don’t seem to notice the presence of Yoongi’s ginger moggie until he’s curled up beside you, nudging at your bare arm, begging to be pet. You give into the scraggy feline, keeping busy, while Yoongi turns to your marked, dog ear page, finishing up Book IV with the story of Perseus and Andromeda.

Ideally, this is exactly how you want to spend the entirety of your Sundays. Although this is how your night always ends, it doesn’t always start off this way. Typically, you’re hanging around his apartment alone, pacing the age-old floorboards, biting your nails and waiting for Yoongi to arrive home safely from his lucrative hustle. You’d even chat it out with Yoongi’s kitten to keep your sanity intact, only to receive a hollow meow in return. Meanwhile, Yoongi spends his Sunday evenings doing all the things your parents warn you not to do. All in good faith, Yoongi earns some quick and dirty cash by participating in the underground street race scene. For you, it’s never been about the money, but more about his safety and wellbeing. And every week, with a few scratches in sight and give or take a couple of bruised knuckles, Yoongi returns home with a pocket full of cash like a double edged scheme. Regardless, you know for a fact that he does whatever he wants purely for his own happiness. It’s all for the cheap thrills, and if this is what he wants to do, who are you to stop him from doing so?

Yoongi rests his hand on top of yours to keep you safe when in reality, shouldn’t you be the one to do that to him? He’s reading the story out loud to you, and you’d probably never acknowledge this fact in the open, but in the repressed part of your subconscious, you’re more drawn to the deep lull of Yoongi’s voice than the enchanting story itself. The words go in through one ear, and out the other, but it’s not important because you’ve read this story at least a dozen times before. Instead, your attention is directed towards Yoongi and the subtle purse of his lips. Your eyes are fixated on the gentle slope of his rounded nose and the faint beauty mark that’s slightly off center.

It’s also hard to ignore the scar that cuts through the middle of his right eye. You don’t mean to stare, but it’s hard to believe that everyone perceives Yoongi as the tough guy because to you, he’s just… Yoongi.

Your Yoongi.

He’s the same guy who would save a stray kitten from the side of the road, befriending it and accepting it into his run down home despite the nasty claw mark that’s embedded into his face. And although Yoongi doesn’t have much to offer financially, he’d still give it his all to take care of the scruffy kitten. Per your informally formal one-woman petition, you’ve requested that Yoongi deem the domestic long-haired cat as San, and ever since then, he’s been inseparable with the little critter. It’s quite endearing to watch this man and his little bundle of sunshine cuddle like it’s nobody’s business or slow dance around the apartment with a cat in his arms in spite of his two left feet.

However, it’s upsetting how the rest of the world will never see the delicate side of your best friend in the same way you see him. Even now, as you lie in bed with him, fiddling with his pretty hands, you can never not think about how they fit perfectly between the spaces of your fingers, comforting you like no other man in your life could. You can’t even look at them without imagining how elegant they are when they’re dancing across the rusty and slightly out of tune grand piano in the corner of the room.

Even if his arms are inked in tattoos, the rest of the world will pay no mind to his gentle soul. They’ll take one look at Yoongi’s etched skin and write him off as the bad guy regardless of the faded heart that he wears on his sleeve.

“Remind me again why you like this stuff?” Yoongi wonders, placing the paperback face down on the bed. Your lack of attention causes him to call your name repeatedly until he finally resorts to poking at your sides.

“HUH?” You yelp, breaking out of your reverie, not fully comprehending anything he’s said in the last five minutes or so.

“Ovid.”

You lift yourself in an upright position, rolling your eyes at his blissful ignorance and lack of taste for Greco-Roman literature. “This is a relic of antiquity, and Ovid pretty much lays the groundwork for Shakespeare, bro. Pay some respect to his name.”

Yoongi breaks out in a smile at your term of endearment but shakes his head in utter disagreement. “You know I’m not a fan of Shakespeare,” he almost gags at the sound of his name. “I’ll admit that the dude has a way with words, and I applaud him for keeping up with the meter, but it’s just not my style.” Yoongi’s nose scrunches up in distaste, his eyes squinting shut.

“We literally wouldn’t have some of the greatest works known to humankind if Ovid didn’t exist.” Your arms run wild, waving in the air as if your points will come across stronger because of how manic you are. Perhaps you’re being a little too dramatic, but in your defense, Ovid is an absolute legend. “I mean think about it, we have The Tempest, Pygmalionー”

“Rousseau’s Pygmalion or Shaw’s Pygmalion?”

“To each one’s own, but you have to know that I’d pick Rousseau any day,” you shrug.

“Yeah, Shaw didn’t have that philosophical flavor, you know,” he chuckles. “I guess you have a point. Let’s not forget A Midsummer Night’s Dream though, a classic.”

An ear to ear grin spreads across your lips at the mention of one of your favorite works. You know that Yoongi is bringing it up for your sake more than his because of his strong hatred towards the brilliance that is Shakespeare. And you know for a fact that he likes A Midsummer Night’s Dream, but he’d never outrightly dare to admit how much he enjoys your book recommendations ー especially if they involve Shakespeare.

“I’m glad you see the error of your ways,” you smile smugly. “Besides, back to the point, Dickens was inspired by Ovid, and Oliver Twist is still your favorite novel.”

Yoongi clicks his tongue, completely defeated by your argument. “Hey! That’s not fair now. It’s basically a social commentary about my life. C’mon, you’re gonna pull that card on me now?”

“Exactly, so you’re not giving him enough credit,” you plead with a pout. “We read this when we were in high school, but I think you’d really enjoy it if you gave it another shot.”

Yoongi bites his lips and picks up the book once again in hesitation, observing it from cover to cover. He plays with the myriad of pink post-it notes that protrude from the worn edges, flipping through the pages and thumbing through all of your annotations.

“Fine,” he grumbles, placing the book back onto his bed. “I’ll give it another try, and I’ll have a full, in-depth review ready for you by this weekend but... you have to come to my race on Sunday.”

“Are you serious?” You ponder over his proposition.

“Yep, that’s the deal.”

Although you’re still skeptical about Yoongi’s side hustle, you’d still support him no matter what (even if it’s in stubborn petulance). Shrugging your shoulders and saying “what the hell,” you give in to his proposal.

Yoongi flashes you his infamous gummy smile, and a warm, fuzzy feeling blooms in the center of your chest. Call it what you want ー elation, glee, fondness, tenderness, something entirely nuanced, or perhaps something above and beyond all of that. Regardless, it’s easy to shrug it off when the feeling comes and goes every so often.

And shrugging it off is what you do best.

Nevertheless, Yoongi’s willingness to appease you causes you to squeal and ramble on about how excited you are for his commentary. Your mouth is too busy running while Yoongi stumbles across his tiny studio, slipping on his shoes and shrugging on his army green utility jacket. He reaches for your outerwear and your white high tops while listening intently to your excitement about the activities you have planned for this Saturday. He hums in affirmation as he slides his hoodie over your raised arms and tugs the black material over your torso, getting you ready to sneak back into your parents’ home.

“Mmm,” he murmurs with a smile plastered on his lips, “Can’t wait, babe.” He tries to conceal his joy as he ducks his head down, sliding your Converse past your ankles and tying the shoelaces up for you.

With your grasp in his one hand and his car keys in the other, he ushers you out of his apartment and into his run-down 1986 Grandeur Azera. The neon green digital clock on his car radio taunts him, blinking every few seconds to count down the limited time he has left with you before kissing your cheek goodnight, or rather good morning, and sending you off to the sheltered life kept under wraps by your overprotective parents.

Yoongi tries not to think too much about the impermanence of the greatest things in his life as the slow burn of sunrise peeks over the horizon. Rather, he’s focused on how the car ride is filled with some of his favorite sounds ー the low hum of old school hip hop playing through his vintage radio and the ring of your laughter resounding over his stupid jokes.

The weekend rolls around quicker than you expect it to.

Days in the cul-de-sac are abnormally slow, especially when you’re in the midst of June. With each passing day, sunlight drags on a little longer because of the impending summer solstice. From the confinements of your window, it seems like all you ever do lately is watch the golden sun rise and set over the lake.

On occasions, your eyes are drawn to the far distance where there are freight trains that chug across the railroad at the crack of dawn. You can’t help but think about the places they’ll go and the things they’ll see in cities outside of your own.

In all honesty, you should probably do something more productive with your days. While everyone you know is complaining about work or studying for a degree they won’t ever use, you’re too busy studying the floor. And although daydreaming about the bright lights and city sounds is a way to kill the time, you’d much rather do it with Yoongi at your side.

Each second that you spend with him is more precious than the last. It’s hard to contain your excitement over the little things like movie nights at the drive in with him because it’s pretty much the highlight of your entire week, hence why you drop by his workplace extra early today – a whole hour before his shift ends.

Your presence is made known to the entire auto shop when the shout of your name is amplified throughout the garage. Of course, you catch Jimin and Taehyung dallying around before they even take notice of you standing in the doorway. They race over to engulf you in a hug, nearly knocking the wind out of you.

“Working hard or hardly working?” You giggle at the two boys.

Jimin lies through his teeth, as expected of him. “Working hard, of course.”

He grabs the mysterious, white paper box from your hands, curious as to what’s inside.

“Cupcakes? For me?” Taehyung asks with innocence in his eyes. He doesn’t even have to wait for your response because the two boys are already ravaging away at the sweet delectables.

Surely you had the boys in mind having stepped foot into the antique bakery shop earlier that day, hence the extras. But earnestly, out of the kindness of your heart, your primary goal is to surprise Yoongi with his favorite red velvet cupcakes. At the same time, you wouldn’t deny its leverage as a way to sway him and his opinions on the awe-inspiring Ovid.

“Don’t eat them all at once, okay?” You warn the boys before wandering off to find Yoongi.

You first expect him to be in his office, doing paperwork of some sort, so you make a beeline towards the backroom. However, there’s nothing in sight of his office beside his cold coffee perched at the edge of his desk. There are also scraps of yellow notepad paper with lyrics sprawled across the pages and a framed photo of the two of you. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, but it’s still not what you’re quite looking for.

You make your way out of Yoongi’s office and down the hall, continuing your search for him. You come to a halt when your ears perk up at the sound of a kick drum and a bass guitar laying down the beats to an iconic Nas song. The faint sound of music slowly crescendos as you lead yourself to the source.

It should be no surprise to you that Yoongi is hot rodding his car and making last minute improvements for tomorrow’s race. Yet again, you find him with his head between the hood, either replacing the worn out brake pads or the loose fan belt (in which he’s shown you how to do a dozen times before).

Yoongi’s reactions might be a little slow for being a vampire considering he hasn’t acknowledged your presence just yet. Sometimes he’s a little short of hearing, especially when his radio is a tad too loud.

The only reason he turns around from the car is because his right hand man has gone unusually silent. Yoongi doesn’t even know how long it's been since you dismissed Namjoon, telling him that you’ve got it covered. Nevertheless, he’s grateful because he can indulge in endless discourse about Metamorphoses, his new favorite anthology, rather than botany which Namjoon never shuts up about.

Being so lost in conversation about literature, and with the cupcakes long forgotten, the two of you hardly even notice the time that’s gone by.

“Boss, we’re gonna clock out,” Namjoon interrupts the two of you.

“Clock out? Oh shit, what time is it?” A quarter to six.

“We’re gonna be late,” you worry.

Yoongi digs his hand into the pocket of his navy coveralls, dishing out a set of keys. He hands them over to Namjoon before coming to his senses, thereby chucking it to Jimin who is arguably more responsible.

“Don’t fuck up,” Yoongi warns them, albeit without any menace in his tone.

Yoongi tugs off his coveralls before grabbing your hand and heading towards his car, listening to the boys wolf whistle from behind him. He shrugs it off, but the smug grin he bites back says otherwise.

He opens the passenger door for you, allowing you to settle in first. Then he does a half run, half walk around the hood. Putting the car in reverse, Yoongi rests his hand behind your seat and throws his head over his shoulder. He drapes his wrist over the steering wheel and zips off into the quiet roads where you can both talk nonsensically as if there’s something to say.

Saturday evenings always start this way.

With two souls as hollow as the bottles you drain and a brown, paper bag full of snacks from the dingy 7-Eleven down the block, you and Yoongi would recline your seats far enough to comfortably watch the movie on the big projection screen.

This must be your week because not only does Yoongi confess his new found love for Greco-Roman literature, but he’s also willing to brave through a romantic melodrama with you ー A Walk to Remember, no less.

Yoongi takes a lot of pride in never having to cry, but this time around, he doesn’t hide the stray tear that rolls down his face. The crying quickly subsides, but still, he gladly accepts the tissue you offer him with no denial in his eyes.

While the end credits roll and everyone has a chance to exit out of the car park, Yoongi would feed you the remaining gummy worms until the bag empties out. Meanwhile, you’d feed him the rest of the chocolate you’d rather not eat. The two of you would also take the time to digest the movie ー tonight’s topic of discussion revolving around the fact that Jamie and Landon deserved better.

But once the coast is clear, your mouth always finds its way to his. And somehow, the two of you always end up undressed ー or at least with your pants pulled down to your ankles. Usually, it’s the both of you, but sometimes it’s one or the other. This time around, it’s just you.

Yoongi always knows how to take care of you, but there’s something telling you that tonight isn’t necessarily your night ー the need for an orgasm being his first priority but a second one for you.

“I wanna make you happy,” he pleads. A double entendre you fail to notice.

But no matter how blissful his lips feel against your cunt, you’re still hyper aware of how bloodthirsty he is at this moment.

He doesn’t even try to hide his enthusiasm as he laps his tongue around your entrance, licking up the residue you’ve pooled from your time of the month. His hunger is insatiable, and it’s evident from the way he puckers his lips around your clit, sucking on the tiny bundle of nerves.

His tongue delves between your folds, playing with your juices, and it’s absolutely intoxicating. Yoongi’s overgrown bangs are parted when your hands find their way to his hair. His line of sight no longer obstructed by his dark, gelled locks. Your breath hitches in your throat when Yoongi looks up at you ー his irises gleaming with gold.

A glob of spit forces its way down your dry throat as you try to overcome this heady feeling. Typically, you’re a woman of many words, but Yoongi obliterates every thought in your head with just a single swipe of his tongue against your heat. A string of curses warble from your throat as he’s relentless in his endeavor, pushing his tongue in and out of your walls, massaging the tender flesh until it's raw.

Your jaw falls slack as your mouth parts open to release a sigh. “Ngh, pl- please, Yoongi,” you stutter out.

“Mmm?” He hums against your folds, sending shivers up your spine.

Your thighs quiver as you fight the need to clamp your legs around Yoongi’s head, but he’s quick to spread them, wedging his tongue further into your tight hole. It’s slick with your arousal, and the squelch of your juices is amplified further with the intensity of Yoongi’s ravage.

You can feel yourself getting closer to your impending high as your walls clench tighter, but you take it like the good girl everyone knows you are. You’re overcome with desperation as your hips cant upwards, rutting yourself against his mouth. Yoongi flicks his tongue over your clit to coax you to your climax, stimulating the nub until whimpers escape from your pretty lips.

It feels as if you’ve lost all of your senses as you reach the edge of your release, pleasure rippling throughout your body. You can’t help but squeeze your eyes shut, and you swear that you can see all of the stars in the night sky. Your chest heaves in an attempt to catch your breath, and your heart races as you descend from your high.

But as always, Yoongi is right there to catch you.

He licks his lips clean to collect every last drop of your sweet nectar. He presses a chaste kiss against your overly-sensitive clit before repositioning your underwear back into place. Then, he peppers kisses up your body and burrows his head into your neck, whispering sweet nothings against the column of your throat, revelling in the afterglow. Once your heavy breathing slows down and your heartbeat plateaus, Yoongi looks up at you with the pretty brown eyes you know and love. And although you’ve recovered from your high, your pussy no longer pulsating, the warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest never dissipates.

Yoongi brushes his lips against yours before kissing you with fervor, saying all that needs to be said. Your mouths are having the unspoken conversation you’re too afraid to have when you’re both tongue-tied and trapped outside of your own mind. Whenever his lips meet yours, it feels as if the rest of the world is falling away at your feet. It’s comforting in a way that his words will never be.

But that’s okay because it’s precisely how you and Yoongi work.

He’ll hold you tight and kiss you goodnight, but you’ll just have to settle for that because the innermost part of your brain would rather wonder forever than know the disappointing truth about where you two stand.

You’re not quite sure why you haven’t been kicked out of the car park yet, but to be frank, you don’t really care and certainly neither does the security.

Yoongi is the first to break the comfortable silence. “You still coming to my race tomorrow?” His nose nudges against your cheek, and he lays a chaste kiss on your supple skin.

Your mouth presses together in a straight line as you contemplate your options. You’ve always been a little skeptical of his illegal pastimes granted that you’ve been raised to reprimand such activities all your life. But knowing Yoongi, you’d trust him with your heart and soul in his hands, and thus, you nod your head in agreement.

“Yeah, I’ll still come,” you shrug, humming in a low voice.

The two of you remain quiet in the backseat of his car, wrapped in the safety of one another’s arms, listening to the soothing melody that plays on the radio. Mindlessly, you trace the pretty ink on Yoongi’s forearms, running your finger over the ornamental designs.

“Is this new?” Your movements come to a halt upon spotting a piece of ink you’ve never noticed before.

Jamais seule written in a simple, fine line ink.

“Huh?” He asks, looking down at his wrist. “Oh yeah, Jeongguk did a custom for me earlier this week.”

In an attempt to hide your smile, you nestle your head into the crevice of his neck.

“What’re you smiling for?” A grin creeps onto his lips, but Yoongi doesn’t even need to ask because he knows better than anyone.

It’s just another reason to add to the list as to why there’s nobody in this world you’d rather be with than your best friend. At the thought of the tattoo, memories begin to flood your mind:

“Conjugate the verb parler in the imperfect tense.”

Yoongi refuses to answer the question. “Are you as hungry as I am?”

“Uhm, no? Yoongi, can you justー”

“My coffee’s getting cold. Do you want another cup?” Yet another excuse.

Your mouth opens up to refute, but he’s already on his feet, heading towards the coffee station at the corner of the cafe. Your hands cup around the mug that he’s left on the table, and you’re not surprised that the ceramic is relatively warm against your palms.

After spending the last hour studying for tomorrow’s French exam, you would have thought you’d make a breakthrough with Yoongi. But time and time again, he refuses to cooperate with you.

You don’t even know why he bothers returning to his seat when he doesn’t even care to study.

You let out a huff in another attempt to get him to learn. “Okay, let’s try this one more time. Can you conjugate the verb parler in the imperfect tense?”

“The coffee here is good, no?” Yoongi takes a sip from his mug once again, observing the hot liquid slosh around. The only thing he’s committed to is tiptoeing around his responsibilities (as well as his feelings, but that’s a whole other conversation).

“Look, I’m trying to help you study. If you don’t want me here, I’ll go. But if you want me to stay, then can you please focus and pay attention?” To no avail, Yoongi doesn’t respond.

“… Do you understand me?”

He doesn’t understand you. In fact, he’s on his phone, texting away and paying no mind to what you have to say.

“Bro, are you even listening to me?” You enunciate again with a scowl on your lips. Your jaw tightens as you pull out your own phone, angrily typing away at the keyboard.

You (1m ago): Yoongi, I want to help you study, so if you don’t want me here, I’ll go. But if you want me to stay, then can you focus and pay attention?? Please?? Do you understand me??

Yoongi (now): 🥺

Yoongi pouts and looks up from his device with sadness in his eyes. “I understand,” he mumbles under his breath. He finally puts his phone into the pocket of his hoodie and opens up his textbook, taking one step in the right direction.

You can’t say you didn’t try unlike all of your high school teachers. They’ve practically given up on the boy, seeing that he hasn’t shown up to class as he should. And when he does, he’s keeping it lowkey in the back of the classroom, sticking his nose in a new novel each week or scribbling away in his black, leatherbound journal. You’re not even sure how you got Yoongi to sit down with you knowing that he’s hard to get a hold of. But really, you’re just unaware that he’s afraid, always running away in the face of uncertainty.

Not even ten minutes go by before Yoongi is finding another excuse to fool around. It’s a whole new record, and you’re pretty proud of his accomplishment nevertheless.

“I’m sick of studying,” he groans with slumped shoulders.

“How can you be sick of studying? In the last hour, I’ve watched you make coffee and spin your textbook on your finger as if it’s a basketball.”

Yoongi’s lips press together in a straight line, but there’s no denying your observations.

“You’ve also tried to convince me that Tupac is the Mozart of our time. It’s not that I’m disagreeing with you, don’t get me wrong, but which part of this consummates studying?” You query with furrowed brows.

“Tell you what, let’s make a deal, okay?”

You shake your head at the thought of his proposal. “Oh, so you’re gonna bargain with me now?” Your voice is filled with exasperation.

“What do you think about ice cream?”

“What’s not to like about it?” Your arms cross over your chest as you lean back in your chair.

A wide, gummy smile spreads across Yoongi’s lips. “If we take an ice cream break, I swear that we’ll come back and study.”

A sigh falls from your lips because you’re not totally convinced, yet you ponder over the proposition. “I really doubt that you can keep your worー”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” He mimics the motion by tracing his finger over his chest. “I’ll even drive,” he adds.

Your eyes squint, still uncertain.

“I’ll treat you,” he offers.

“Min Yoongi, you are one convincing dude,” you chuckle.

Closing your textbook and gathering all of your belongings, you chuck them in the backseat of Yoongi’s car and head off to the ice cream parlor.

You make it just in time before closing, being the last two customers in store that they have to kick out. While you pick a flavor as peculiar as butter pecan, Yoongi decides on a fruity flavor ー orange to be precise. The two of you enjoy your dessert, licking away at the sugary mess before it has the chance to melt onto the black, leather interior of his car.

“Can I ask you a serious question?” You pry, looking over at Yoongi.

“Shoot.”

“Why is it that you’re flunking when you’re smarter than 90% of the people at our school?”

“Ah,” he shakes his head in disbelief, “It takes more than intelligence to act intelligently.”

You scoff in rebuttal. “Seriously? You can quote Dostoevsky word for word, and I’m sure you can recite the entirety of Crime and Punishment in your sleep.”

You can see him shrug his shoulders out of the corners of your eyes. “I really don’t see the point when I’m not going to go to college.”

“Okay, so what’s your big dream, then?” You ask with worry laced in your tone.

“I don’t think you necessarily need to have a big dream.”

A drop of your ice cream melts onto your hand, and you’re quick to wipe it away. You’re shocked to hear what he has to say because everyone in this deadbeat town has a dream. It usually involves getting away from said deadbeat town. “Okay, enlighten me then?”

“You just need to be happy.” He’s stoic in his response.

“Are you happy?” You ask. It’s a loaded question.

He shrugs.

It’s quiet.

Moments go by.

Yoongi’s the first one to break the comfortable silence. “They’re flunking me because I’m truant. I work in the auto shop outside of town, so when I’m not in school, I’m picking up extra shifts there. It doesn’t pay a lot, but it’s enough to keep me alive, you know? It’s enough to cover the car too.”

Another drop of ice cream melts onto your wrist. You don’t fail to notice the fact that he hasn’t addressed your question. “But are you happy? Is this what you want?” You try again.

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, pondering. “I’ve always thought about doing this, but... I want to drive out to L.A. and take my chance at music production or something.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Sorry, it sounds stupid, I know.”

A fond smile makes its way onto your face. “I think that’s so cool,” you reassure him.

He cocks his head to the side as he tries to hide the smile that mirrors yours, but you can see his hard exterior break down before your very eyes. Nobody has ever believed in him the way that you do.

His eyes sparkle in the moonlight as if the galaxy lays dormant in his lonely irises. “... But the thing is, I don’t know if I want to be out and about in this world alone.”

You’ve never seen Yoongi so vulnerable before, and you never thought you’d have the chance to see it. So you comfort him in the way that you know best.

“Jamais seule,” you offer in consolation.

Yoongi’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “What?”

“Jamais seule,” you repeat once again, placing your hand on his shoulder. “It’s French for ‘never alone.’”

He chuckles at your explanation. “Are you trying to make this a teaching moment?”

You nod your head in response, a proud smile making its way onto your lips.

“Okay, then what about you, huh?” He inquires. “What’s your big goal then?”

“Me?”

He nods his head. Of course he’s talking to you, but you’re taken aback because nobody’s ever really taken interest in what it is that you want to do.

“Realistically, I guess I’d be a teacher? When I was younger, I was thinking about doing dance, but I think I should specialize in French or maybe even English? I want to learn other languages too, but I’m not totally sure if I can make a career out of it.” Your nose scrunches up at the uncertainty.

Yoongi orients his body towards yours, taking in your profile. “Fuck that. Learn all of the languages you want to learn, okay? But tell me what it is that you really want to do now, unrealistically speaking.”

You look over at him, and your heart swells up inside your chest. A warm, fuzzy feeling overtakes you as you brace yourself to share this part of your life because honestly, you’ve never admitted it out loud to anyone before in part because nobody has ever bothered to ask or even care in the way that Yoongi does.

“I want to be a flight attendant.” It almost feels as if a weight has been lifted off of your chest as you heave out a sigh. “I want to see other countries, experience different cultures, and meet new people. I just want to see what the world is like outside of this town, you know?”

“I know,” he mouths. His gummy smile resurfaces on his lips as he nods his head, listening to you speak so passionately about your dreams. “I think you’d make the best flight attendant in the whole world.”

In the entire cosmos, there’s a short list of things that you genuinely love. One being the delicacy of antique books, worn and torn with age, brimming with the faded passages of time, two being chips and guac, the magic elixir to instant happiness, and three being Min Yoongi.

It should be no surprise to you that you’d do anything in the world for your best friend, but hanging around the dirt drag to watch tonight’s race is the last thing you would ever expect.

As you approach the spectator crowd, the smell of burnt rubber and seared tarmac infiltrates your senses. There’s a cloud of smoke rings floating around you while the people huff and puff on their Newports and Marlboros. Some of them even offer you a lighter, but you politely decline.

It’s pretty obvious that you don’t fit into this scene. You’ve never even shown your face in this part of town before, but everyone else seems to know one another relatively well, hanging out on the hood of their cars and getting drunk off bottles of Smirnoff.

“Hey, princess, take a shot with us why don’t ya?” Someone whistles.

You turn your head to the side, only to find a group of girls eyeing you from head to toe. “No thanks, I’m good,” you offer with a timid voice, shrinking away at their electrifying gaze.

Yoongi pulls you closer to his side, wrapping his arm around your waist and squeezing his fingers into your hip bones. His eyes glimmer with gold as he shoots daggers at the group of girls.

“Don’t talk to anyone you don’t know, okay? Stick with Hobi,” he whispers to you through gritted teeth.

It’s not long before you come across Hoseok, socializing with a group of people who appear to be crossfaded. Yoongi pats him on the back, drawing his attention away from the dead end conversation.

“Hey!” Hoseok shouts with enthusiasm. He wedges himself between you and Yoongi, resting his arms around both of your shoulders. He turns your attention away from the group of people he was once conversing with, walking in the opposite direction. But once you step far away enough, out of reach from the crowd, Hoseok sighs in relief.

“Thank God for saving me, I literally don’t know how much longer I can talk to them for,” he shakes his head and rolls his eyes in spite of the happy-go-lucky personality you’re so familiar with.  

The blare of an air horn cuts through the bustling night, indicating that the race is soon to start. Yoongi cups his hand around Hoseok’s ear to tell him something in secret, and in response, he nods his head in affirmation.

Yoongi turns to you and flashes his sweet smile. “When I win, I’ll treat you to whatever you want, okay? Ice cream? Pizza? Tom kha gai from that Thai place you like? Name it and it’s yours.” Yoongi walks backward to take one last glance at you before tugging his headset over his ears and running off to the direction of his car.

You smile to yourself as the warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest begins to bloom once again.

You shout “good luck” to him as he steps away, but you know for a fact that he can’t hear you. He doesn’t need the luck anyways.

Hoseok taps on your shoulder, gathering your attention to lead you to the frontlines where you have a good view of the action. He fiddles with the device in front of him, tuning his CB radio, twisting the dial back and forth to find the right frequency.

“Agust D, this is J-Hope, OVER.” Hoseok shouts into his intercom with a little too much enthusiasm.

“Dude, we’re not gonna do this,” Yoongi complains through the static of the speakers. You can’t help but giggle at his response. It’s very characteristic of Yoongi, and you can already imagine the creases forming at the corner of his eyes as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

Your eyes look over towards the two approaching cars, one of them being the black and yellow Grandeur Azera you know so well. Yoongi and his opponent toe their tires to the starting line, making sure it’s a fair game.

The host speaks through his megaphone, but it’s hard to hear over the screaming crowd. His words are muffled, and it’s nearly indecipherable, but he’s most likely explaining the rules and safety to everyone, or at least you hope he is.

Yoongi, being the cocky bitch he is, revs his engine over the voice of the announcer. Through his rolled down windows, you can see him tap his fingers over his mouth to let out a dramatic yawn. He even checks the time on his watch just to show off.

You shake your head at his overwhelming pride, and just in time, he looks over at you to send a wink. Despite the roll of your eyes, you can’t hide the heat that rushes to the apples of your cheeks.

The countdown begins as the announcer yells through his megaphone. The crowd amplifies his voice as they count alongside him. The two cars rev their engines, and it’s deafening to your sensitive ears.

An overwhelming sense of nervousness rushes through your veins, but you squeeze onto Hobi’s arm to anchor yourself. The thought of Yoongi getting into a fatal accident crosses your conscience, but you quickly wipe the image away from your mind. You trust Yoongi, and there’s nobody in the world who does it better than him.

In the blink of an eye, you nearly miss the cars zipping off into the dead of the night, too lost in your thoughts.

Looking over Hoseok’s shoulder, you can see the red and green dots floating across the monitor, the green symbol representing Yoongi’s GPS signal as he zips around the circumference of town. All the red symbols show the police hotspots within a 10 mile radius.

“Yoongi, right turn in 3 blocks,” Hoseok says into the intercom. According to the police scanner, the cops are too close for comfort.

“Yep, gotcha.” Yoongi’s voice sounds faded through the speakers.

In hopes of clearing the static, Hoseok fiddles with the dials. “What the fuck? I’m losing you.”

Panic rises to your chest as you watch the green dot speed across town, driving in close proximity to the law enforcement. Even worse, you’re losing communication with him. It’s nothing but static.

Hoseok slaps the radio in rage, but of course, nothing happens. “What the hell’s going on?” He even rips out the batteries and puts it back into the device to no avail. He looks over at you as if you have the answers, but you’re rendered useless when your mind draws a blank.

Hoseok pulls your hand away from your mouth, not even realizing that you’ve been chewing on your nails all this time.

“Well shit, now what?”

“Hope and pray?” He shrugs.  

At the sound of his words, your heart drops to your stomach.

Your hands begin to tremble as you monitor the screen. He’s cutting close to the finish line, but you have no eyes on his opponent. Meanwhile, the cops are spreading across the map, probably searching for the source of the disturbance.

Yoongi has yet to be caught, but he’s smart enough to maneuver through the backroads he knows better than anyone ー the ones he’s practically grown up on.

The green dot races across the screen, coming closer and closer to your marked location. The boisterous rev of an engine can be heard within earshot, so your attention shifts to the far end of the dirt path. Your heart pounds against your ribs as you cross your fingers, praying and hoping that Yoongi is the one who’s returning to you.

The lack of street lights makes it difficult to see down the cloudy road, but you never seem to give up, leaning over the makeshift barrier and tiptoeing above the crowd.

The sound of the engine elevates as the frontliner approaches. Your attention focuses on the two tiny, bright lights emerging from the distance. However, your vision is blurred as the two lights diverge into four. Another car follows behind it, charging full speed towards the finish line. Your hands squeeze around Hoseok’s wrist as the two of you anxiously wait to see the winner. The headlights illuminate at a greater lux as it speeds down the path. You begin to squint, trying to adjust your eyes to the light to make out the license plate number or at least something that’s telling of who the lead driver is.

But fear not, because a sigh of relief escapes from your lungs as the yellow detailings on the infamous Grandeur Azera is within sight. Yoongi crosses the finish line with full speed, and the crowd erupts in a roar.

He decelerates before coming to a full stop. There’s a haze of dust that trails behind his car, and a silhouette of a figure emerges from the smoke. It’s none other than Yoongi who trudges out of the car, and it’s unmistakable from his golden glare which shines through the exhaust.

You let go of Hoseok’s wrist in favor of racing towards Yoongi to wrap him up in the safety of your arms. He immediately reciprocates and melts into your embrace. He squeezes you tightly around your torso, and you fall further into his arms. Your nose presses against his shoulder, burrowing your head against the crook of his neck.

You chuckle through the stray tear that rolls down your cheek and onto the green denim of his jacket. “You idiot, you love scaring the life out of me, huh?”

Yoongi pulls away from you to cup your cheeks, angling your face so that he can gaze into your eyes. His irises slowly revert back to the shade of brown you’ve come to love. He wipes away the tears streaming down your cheeks and tucks a tendril of hair behind your ear.

“Iー” He opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something, but he decides against it. Instead, his lips come crashing down onto yours, kissing you as if it’s his last breath.

“Care to explain what that was all about?” You slam the door shut behind you.

Yoongi refuses to answer.

The air doesn’t feel clear between the two of you, and it hasn’t ever since the kiss. It feels off. Tense, even. As a matter of fact, it’s been unusually quiet since the car ride home.

Your head has been spinning round and round because Yoongi never acts like this. Whatever it is that goes on between the two of you doesn’t go beyond the confinements of these four, egg white walls (with the exception of his car, of course).

But bottom line: It’s an unspoken rule that whatever happens between you stays between you.

Yoongi is sullen in his contemplation. He kicks off his boots, trudging into his apartment with heavy feet as if he’s a teenager ridden with angst. You would think that he’s retired from the days when he keeps to himself and feeds the world with the “I’m misunderstood” bullshit as some lame excuse. But yet again, he’s crawling back into the shell of the man he once was.

He chooses to ignore the obvious problem as he shrugs off his jacket and switches out one t-shirt for another. You hate the idea of him going to bed upset, but no matter how much you try to get him to talk, you’re left with utter silence.

Being tired and frustrated of his lack of communication, you decide to stand up from the edge of the mattress, plodding through the creaky floorboards to stand before Yoongi. You tilt your head up to meet his gaze, but his glassy eyes avert yours, looking anywhere but at you. All you can see is the faint beauty mark on the side of his nose, but never in your life did you think that you’d frown at the sight of it.

You opt for getting his attention by wrapping your arms around his waist, resting your head against his bare chest, listening to the violent storm that pulses beneath the shell of your ear.  

His arms hang by his side. You squeeze him a little tighter, and he huffs out a sigh, falling prey to your touch. Your cheek is pressed tighter against his chest as he envelops you in a hug. His fingers trail up and down your spine in an effort to comfort you, but really, it’s more appeasing to him than to you knowing that you’re within arms reach.

“They tapped into my radio.” His voice cuts through the quiet air.

You swallow down the knot in your throat as you listen to his every word.

“God, they said some fucked up shit to me.” His hands clench tighter against the cotton of your t-shirt, and you can hear his heart pound harder against his chest.

A painful sigh escapes from your lips as you listen to the tremble of his voice. “Whatever they say isn’t true, you know?” You offer in consolation, “They don’t know you like I do.”

“It wasn’t even about me, ughー They were talking about you, and... fuck, Iー” Yoongi fights against the tears that are threatening to spill, the frustration evident in his tone.

Your heart shatters at the sound of his broken voice. “Yoongi, people are gonna talk, and nothing they say will ever matter, so just let ‘em talk.”

Your words ring through his ear as he harshly swallows a glob of spit down his throat. He thinks to himself in silence, wondering whether or not his words will ever matter to you.

“Can I tell you something?” He pulls away from you to take a better look at your expressions.

“Yeah, of course, anything,” you knit your eyebrows together and nod your head in solace.

Yoongi walks backwards until the back of his knees knock against the edge of his bed, allowing you to climb onto his lap, mounting his thighs with one leg on either side. He licks his lips to ease his nerves, anxiety bubbling up to the surface. His hands get clammy as he rests them on the curve of your waist.

But all of that dissipates once he fixates his attention on your eyes.

It feels as if you two are in your own little world together while everyone else dances around in the ruins of their dreams.

His eyes soften and a shy smile spans across his lips. “I love you.”

You’re taken aback by his confession, almost as if you didn’t hear him correctly granted his low murmurs. Your mouth hangs open, jaw slack. Your eyes blink, stunned by what you may or may not have heard.

It takes four and half seconds for you to register that ー holy shit ー did he just say what you think he just said?

“What’d you say?” Your brows knit together and your forehead creases asking for the much needed confirmation.

“You really want me to say it again?” He’s bashful as he hides his rosy cheeks in the crevice of your neck, his hot breath tickling your skin.

“Say it again,” you encourage. Your face starts to ache with the beaming smile painted across your lips.

Yoongi’s mouth curls into a smile to mimic yours as he peppers kisses against the column of your throat. He repeats his words once again, each syllable caught between a featherlight kiss.

“Iー” His lips ghost against your jaw.

“Loveー” Onto your chin.

“You.”

His soft eyes flash open to gawk at your lips, waiting for permission to kiss you where he so desperately wants to. He blinks, looking up to peer into the depths of your soul through the gateway of your irises. You can see the whirl of emotions in his eyes, a mixture between elation and tenderness and everything in between.

But above all, you can see the love.

A shy look is exchanged before you flutter your eyes close and lean forward to hesitantly brush your lips against his, testing the waters. But once he melts into your touch, you dive into the deep end, firmly committing to your desires.

It takes another half second for you to register that ー holy fucking shit ー you’re actually kissing the love of your life.

Although you are no stranger to Yoongi’s lips, something about this feels different. Yet again, you’re drunk off serotonin and intoxicated by his fiery touch. The world around you disappears alongside your worries and your troubles. All of your feelings, your emotions, your secrets, and all of your wishes are laid bare before you.

But what’s different about this kiss is that for the first time in your life, you know for a fact that this is what love is supposed to be.

“I love you, Yoongi,” you finally confess with your whole chest. Tears begin to form in your eyes and a smile that’s larger than life spreads across your lips, bringing pains and aches to your cheeks. But nevertheless, it’s all worth it because Yoongi loves you and you love him.

It doesn’t even register in your head that your back is now flat against the mattress, nor do you register the embarrassing amount of slick that has pooled at your entrance. At least not until Yoongi presses his fingers against the slim cotton of your underwear, teasing your folds with the glide of his calloused fingers.

“You’re wet already?”

You mewl upon his comment. “Can’t help it.”

Yoongi tugs off your shorts with your underwear in tow. His mouth reconnects with yours in longing, and his lips taste exactly like blackberries, bay leaves, and blissful midnights blanketed underneath the stars.

Your breath hitches in your throat and you shudder under his touch as he grazes over your clit. His finger dips between your folds, collecting your arousal before rubbing soothing circles over your sensitive nub. Your heavy eyelids fall close, and Yoongi watches your face contort in pleasure, your eyebrows creasing together.

Growing restless of his teasing, you lurch forward to palm the tent in his pants. You will yourself to open your eyes just the slightest bit.

“Hard already?” You tease with raised brows.  

“Can’t help it,” he echoes.

You pull on the fabric of his jeans, begging him to remove the material from his legs. He obliges while you strip your top off.

At the sight of your bare breasts, Yoongi’s lips find its way to your pert nipples, hallowing his cheeks and sucking on the tender flesh until the blood rushes to the surface of your skin. His hand trails its way down your body, dipping two fingers into your tight hole, pumping in and out to massage your walls.

A thick glob of saliva forms in the back of your throat, and you sputter it into the palm of your hands. Reaching down for Yoongi’s shaft, you jerk him off exactly how he likes it. Your thumb traces over the tip of his cock, swiping over the slit as he leaks beads of precum.

Yoongi sighs as you work faster, milking him for all of his worth. He grips his hand around your wrist to slow down your movements, wanting to change it up. Instead, he trails kisses up your body until he’s hovering over your lips.

“Don’t wanna come like this,” he says with a heavy sigh.

His hand replaces yours as he pumps his length and lines it up at your entrance.

You brace yourself by squeezing your hands around his shoulders, clinging on to him for dear life. He pushes his member one inch at a time until your fingernails dig into his supple skin, dragging him down to meet your lips.

A gasp falls from your throat as the angle changes, and he pushes deeper inside of you.

“Oh, fuck,” you quiver.

Yoongi lays a kiss upon your cheek before meeting your eyes once again. “You okay?”

“Better than okay,” you nod.

A blinding smile makes its way to Yoongi’s lips and you can’t help but reciprocate. He pushes his length further until he’s balls deep, his pelvis pressed up against yours.

You throw your head back against the mattress, exposing the blank canvas of your neck. For a second, his eyes are gilded with gold, but it quickly regresses. His tongue runs over his bottom lip before languidly licking a stripe up the side of your neck. He suckles on your skin until it discolors, leaving behind a love bite that’s none other than a mark of his love.

As you finally adjust to the thick stretch of Yoongi’s cock, you start to fidget, rutting your hips against his.

“Yoongi, please move,” you cry out, wrapping your legs around the small of his waist. And you swear you could physically cry in this very moment.

At your request, his hips begin to thrust, fucking himself into your wanting pussy. With the drag of his dick, you can feel every inch of him move inside of you. Your walls contract and mold against his shaft, his balls slapping against the curve of your ass. The filthy sounds fill the tiny space of his studio apartment, as does the squelches of your arousal.

Yoongi bites his lip as he relishes this very moment. The way you look beneath him, taking his cock like a good girl, fucked out and in total bliss as a dribble of spit cascades down your lips. He tucks his hand underneath your chin to wipe away at the saliva, only to fall back down into a plank position.

Your chest heaves and your head lolls to the side. You can hardly see through your eyelids which are falling shut, but somehow, you resist, seeing the pretty ink that’s engraved into Yoongi’s skin. The most prominent one ー and also the newest addition to his sleeve ー being at eye level. Leaning over the slightest bit, you press your lips against the simple, fine line ink.

A fire within Yoongi is ignited upon your action. His hips begin to stutter, reaching close to the end of his release. He sticks his fingers in his mouth, sucking on the digits until they’re nice and wet. His hand trails a path down your body, only to find its way to your clit. It’s hot and slick down there, especially with the newly added pressure.

A series of moans tumble from your lips as he relentlessly rubs harsh circles onto your nub.

“Oh my god, Yoongi ー Yeah, just like that,” you whimper when the tip of his cock pushes against your cervix. Your eyes are starting to water at the immense amount of pleasure building up in the pit of your stomach.

“Like what?” He smirks, “Like that?”

His thrusts are harder as he quickens the pace. Your body drifts further up the mattress with the force of his hips and your arms wrap around his upper torso to keep yourself anchored. Your fingernails scratch the surface of his skin, leaving behind a trail of red marks down his back.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Yoongi, Iー” A strangled noise escapes from your parted lips.

“Yes, baby? You can come for me.” The soft coo against your ear contrasts against the harsh slap of his hips, sending you further into your release.

“Yoongi… I- I love you,” you manage to sputter out, albeit weakly from the current, fucked out state that you’re in.

At the sound of your confession once again, Yoongi grunts harshly, his breath fanning across your face. His cock grinds harder against your cervix as he chases your high.

The knot in the pit of your stomach unfurls with a harsh thrust, and you dissolve into pleasure. Your walls clench around his dick which continues to pound into you. Your body heats up and your heart races a hundred beats per second as waves of bliss come crashing through you.

Yoongi molds his lips against yours, kissing you with ardor. As you tremble beneath him, your vision starts to blur and your eyelids fall shut, yet with a few more pumps, Yoongi is releasing himself inside of you, painting your inner walls white with his cum. He collapses on top of you, chest heaving.

Your pussy is bare and battered, but you wouldn’t have it any other way with sticky thighs and Yoongi’s pulsating cock inside of you.

The two of you lie down together in the safety of one another’s arms in an attempt to catch your breath. Your fingers run through his raven locks as he rests his head against your chest, listening to the come down of your beating heart.

In the dead of the night, the air in this tiny space is quiet and still while every other deadbeat in this town runs rampant in the world, yet you wouldn’t have it any other way as long as you are never alone.