#his campaign fucking crumbled

[borathae]

Friendship Over | MYG x f.Reader

“You and Yoongi have been best friends for years and yet your friendship is build on perhaps the biggest misunderstanding on earth. You, totally into inexperienced guys, think that Yoongi steers away from romance because he is ace and therefore you keep quiet about your huge crush on him. While Yoongi, very eager to get sexy with you, thinks that you are only interested in experienced guys and therefore he sucks up his major crush on you. When one night, you accidentally run in on him touching himself to the thought of you, the foundation of your friendship crumbles irreparably and you are forced to make sense of the rubble.”

Pairing: Yoongi x f.Reader

Genre: best friends to lovers!AU, Smut

Warnings: subbiest!Yoongi, inexperienced!Yoongi, shy!Yoongi, Yoongi in glasses, Domme!Reader, completely whipped!Reader, misunderstandings but make it two idiots in love <3, she thinks that he is ace and he thinks she isn't interested in "virgins", but it's quite the opposite, bruh these two just need to talk fr, male masturbation, handjob, getting caught, neediest making out, she is a lil rough with him but in a loving way, Yoongi is a natural ngnfng, they take turns making the other feel good, body worshipping, nipple licking & play, oral sex (m. & f.receiving), cum swallowing, safe penetrative sex in lotus & cowgirl, he cums so many times, listen. they're all new sensations to him so bear with him <3, he is literally this -> :O the entire time, imagine being a sub and experiencing subspace for the first time in the safest way, yeah this is what happens to him, dirty talk & praise, i feel so feral for this yoongi omfg, naked cuddles & giddy giggles for aftercare hihi <3

Wordcount: 11.5k

a/n: AAAAAAAAAAAAAH! i love him i love him i love him he is such a cutie pattootie boongie woongie sweetie lovely pookie <3 this is an idea from kinktober24 which wasn't chosen for the official list, but i still wanted to write it because it is such a VIBE and we love nerdy virgin!Yoongi with a paSSION eheheh 💗

A short trip during spring has been your friendship tradition for years. Perhaps it is also the reason why you also haven’t had a boyfriend in years. The last one you had, did not like knowing that you would be sharing a room with your male best friend for three nights. You assured him that said best friend was on the ace spectrum, but alas he made you choose and so you chose Yoongi.

It was an easy choice, because it will always be Yoongi. If Yoongi asked you to, you would be his girlfriend in a heartbeat. He is the man of your dreams. He is mature and knows his place in life. He is intelligent and witty. He is highly empathetic and always knows the right comforting words to say. He is kind, so incredibly kind, and he is sweet. He is creative and full of wonderful ideas. He is your calm haven as much as he is the biggest source for your laughter. He is just so funny and most of all, he is a total nerd. 

Just like you. 

You and Yoongi can spend hours obsessing over your newest shared nerdy fixations and it wouldn't become boring. Many friendship trips ended in you and he locked up in your hotel room while you obsessed over your shared interests together. Each year and for each occasion, you get the other presents inspired by each other’s interests and you are even working on your own DnD campaign together.

He is your dream man, but you also know that he is aromantic and ace and that anything remotely romantic was weird to him. No way in hell would you ever tell him your feelings if it meant making your friendship – and him – uncomfortable.

So you stay quiet while you go on these friendship trips, pretending that sharing a room and bed with him doesn’t totally mess with your sanity and that spending so much quality time together doesn’t completely fuck you over. Sometimes, during these trips, your daydreams of being partners are so intense that you have to stop yourself from calling him baby.

One time, you actually did and Yoongi blushed and you totally saved yourself by turning it into a funny thing. A running gag so to speak, although the only gag running is you. From your confession. Because you’re a coward.

Yoongi is many a things, but he definitely isn’t ace. Nor is he aromantic. Yoongi is actually a complete and utter sucker for romance. And sex. Yoongi loves sex. In theory. In practice not that much. The thought of getting naked in front of someone scares him to the point of willingly staying a virgin. Not that he wouldn’t want to change it, but being naked. Why does one have to be naked during sex? This is so embarrassing.

Yoongi also thinks that you are the most amazing person to ever exist. If someone asked him who would be his dream partner, Yoongi would describe you. You are intelligent, charismatic, funny and have the kindest heart he has ever seen in a person. When he is with you, his mind quiets down and at the same time, he wants to keep being goofy. He also thinks that you are the most beautiful person existing. Inside and out, you are everything he wishes for. 

But he also knows that you are so much cooler and much more mature than him when it comes to relationships and that experienced people are a total turn on for you.

And Yoongi is very far from being an expert. So he stays quiet in order not to break his own heart by being rejected for being a loser virgin. 

The time you called him baby still haunts him, by the way. Not that this is in any way relevant to this story.

“The water pressure sucks. Just a heads up”, you say, entering the bedroom in nothing but a towel. 

Yoongi, sitting on bed and playing a card game on his phone, looks at you only to instantly look away again. His heart skips a few beats. Holy wow. 

“I feel like I’m still dirty, even though I really scrubbed myself”, you continue, oblivious to his flabbergasted stares.

“This sucks”, Yoongi answers you, hoping that he sounds calm enough not to call attention.

“It does. Big times.”

Yoongi glances at what you are doing. You are laying out an outfit, including your underwear. It is the lacy kind. Yoongi loves the lacy kind. He presses his legs together in hopes of stopping any kind of blood flow to his dick. He can’t risk it. How embarrassing would that be? He gets hard over your underwear. This is The definition of what a loser virgin would do. You don’t know that he is a virgin and Yoongi really wants to keep it this way.

“Does it still stand that you want to chill?” you ask him, throwing your clothes and lacy underwear over your arm.

You and he talked about dinner and Yoongi said that he wasn’t really hungry and that he would prefer to stay in the room. You don’t blame him. After all, he was the one who had to drive for six hours.

“Yeah. Is it okay if I do?” he says.

“Yes, it’s totally okay. I’m starving, I can’t wait. I hope that the restaurant is better than their water pressure. Otherwise, we totally chose the wrong hotel this year.”

You are talking to him as you walk back to the bathroom to get dressed.

Yoongi feels like a pervert, but when you are already in your underwear, you manage to change positions which makes it possible for him to see you in the reflection of the mirror. A decent person would look away, but Yoongi is a disgusting piece of shit. At least that’s how he feels as he runs his eyes up and down your barely clothed body, wishing for a higher deity to give him strength. You are so beautiful. The lace sits on your curves as if it was made for you, the cups of your bra hold up your breasts in such a nice way and your butt looks so perfect.

It aches. Yoongi wants to touch you and call you beautiful, but he can’t. He can’t because he is a loser virgin and you only like experienced men. 

You wear a flowy slip on dress, returning from the bathroom with light makeup on and the sweet scent of your perfume accompanying you.

“Can you help me with my necklace?” you ask him, walking to his side of the bed and sitting down on the edge of it.

“Sure, yeah”, he tries so hard not to squeak his words. You are so close to him that he can really smell your perfume. 

You roll your head to the side, exposing your neck to him. You put highlighter on your shoulders and the area of your collarbones. It reflects the lights in a faint shimmer. Yoongi feels jealous of the necklace which gets to brush over this part of you. He is a complete mess, barely managing to close your necklace.

“Done”, he lets you know, accidentally brushing his fingertips down the nape of your neck as he pulls back. Goosebumps cover your skin in reaction and a shiver moves you.

Yoongi gulps. 

“This just totally give me the shivers. Do it again.”

Yoongi repeats the touch. You shiver and giggle, reaching back to scratch the spot he touched. 

“Totally ticklish too”, you look over your shoulder at him.

If Yoongi was any more of a disrespectful asshole, he would close the distance and kiss your neck. But he isn’t and so he gawks at you with a racing heart. 

“Thanks for closing the necklace, you’re a darling.” You stand up and give him a sweet smile.

Yoongi looks up at you over the brim of his glasses. His heart is beating out of his chest by now. He doesn’t know how many more trips he can take before he just bursts and confesses. This year is torture. His feelings are eating him alive.

“I’m downstairs for some. I’m taking the key card and my phone. So if you get locked out, call me”, you say, getting ready to leave.

“Yeah, okay. Have a good meal.”

“Hopefully I will. Have a good chill.”

He chuckles, “I will. Thanks.”

“See you.”

“See you. Bye.”

You leave the room soon after, abandoning Yoongi in his loneliness and yearning. If only he had more experience, he would take this fateful step and confess his feelings for you.

If you were his girlfriend, he would cook for you all the time. He would write you songs and he would perform them to you. He would rub your shoulders on stressful days and wipe your tears on sad days. He would constantly tell people that he was your boyfriend and he would even try to get over his fear of being naked for you. 

Yoongi knows that you would feel so nice. Warm and soft. He would love holding you and tracing your body. He would kiss you all over and get droopy from your scent.

Yoongi feels it. It’s happening again. His own disgusting thoughts are turning him on. It happened last year too.

The bed was smaller than this year and you ended up spooning him accidentally while Yoongi laid wide awake with a hard dick and a racing heart. He remembers that he had to leave the room early and secretly jerk off in his car because it just wouldn’t go down otherwise. This was the first time he touched himself to the thought of you and the memory comes back to haunt him.

Is this his fate? Did his brain connect these friendship trips with unbearable horniness? Is he destined to jerk off in secret each fucking year until he shrivels up and you find the love of your life in someone else? Is this it? Is he supposed to stay the pervert best friend who gets off on you?

Yoongi rolls out of bed and tries to get rid of his boner by doing a few jumping jacks. He is not going to give in again. Last year was a mistake, something which will never happen again. No woman deserves to be treated this way. Yoongi is too fucking grown to be such a stereotypical virgin.

The jumping jacks help until his eyes accidentally land on your open suitcase and the second set of lingerie you left on top of your clothes. It’s the lacy kind again. Red this time around. He messes up the jumping jacks, instantly feeling how blood rushes back to his dick. It’s useless. He won’t be able to survive this fucking trip if he doesn’t take care of it. Forcing it away will only end in him getting needier and the boner to be harder to hide. He has to do it now and never think of it again. Yep, that’s what he’ll do. Get it over with quickly and then hate himself for it.

Dinner was a complete fail because the restaurant was already closed. Fifteen minutes later and after one sad trip to the local supermarket for some dry bread, you are already back in front of your hotel room. You try to sneak into the room just in case Yoongi fell asleep. You open and close the door silently and tiptoe into the room. You abandon your heels by the door and continue to tiptoe to the bedroom. 

And then you see it and it almost makes you scream.

Yoongi is under the blanket and has his eyes closed. His arm makes the very distinctive movements a man makes when he jerks off. His constant small moans are another indicator 

And you feel frozen, feeling your entire world view crumble as you watch Yoongi – the supposedly biggest ace out there – touch himself. 

The better part of you tells you to turn around and leave. It almost wins until your name suddenly slips from his lips.

Quietly. Like a beg. So filled with pleasure.

Your knees buckle at the sound of it. If lady boners were a thing, you would have one. A huge one.

“___, you’re so soft, ah…”

Panic. How the fuck are you going to make yourself known? Clear your throat? Cough? Say his name? 

“Ah-ah”, Yoongi mewls and arches his back, throwing his arm over his eyes as he clearly finds release to the thought of you.

And you are spiralling. Holy fuck. He just orgasmed to the thought of you. 

“Urgh, fuck”, he comes down with a deep growl and gritted teeth, following it up with a squeaky whimper.

Speak! Say something!

He needs a few seconds afterwards to catch his breath. You should make yourself know, but you lost any ability to make a noise. 

He just orgasmed to the thought of you. 

Yoongi drops his arm from his eyes and opens them. His glasses are tilted, his hair is ruffled.

“Fuck”, he whispers, voice filled with shame.

He sits up to get a tissue, using it to wipe his hand. Afterwards he disappears under the blanket for a moment to clean himself.

“You’re fucking disgusting, Min Yoongi”, you hear him talk to himself.

You are totally frozen and mute, unable to make sense of what just happened.

Yoongi reappears and screams. He saw you, now jumping out of bed in horror.

“What, what, what are you doing here?” He stutters. “Since when. Oh god, since when? What did you see?”

“Uh…I heard my name and… saw what it did to you.”

“Oh my god”, Yoongi falls to his knees, “I’m so sorry, please don’t call the cops. I promise, I’ll leave. You won’t have to see me again. I’m so sorry, oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

“No. Uh.” You shake your head to get back to reality. “It’s fine. This was hot.”

“What?”

“I really wanna kiss you.”

“What??”

Yoongi stands up, gawking at you. It feels as if everything he ever believed was a lie. You want to kiss him??

“Excuse my bluntness, but this made me wet. Like seriously, watching you orgasm to the thought of me changed me as a person”, you say, looking at him as if you wanted to ravish him whole.

Yoongi stutters, but he does it so hard that it stays unintelligible for you. It was definitely something nervous and shocked. 

“Do you want me to come closer?” you ask him.

Yoongi blushes vividly. He nods his head shyly, covering his face.

“Holy fuck, Yoongi…”

You close the distance in wobbles, wanting to fall over him like a rabid animal. You want him so bad.

Yoongi panics. 

“I’m a virgin!” he yells his confession.

You stop, gawking at him with widened eyes. Yoongi’s face is bright red, his eyes are big. 

“Well! Uhm… I jerk off and uh, I had hand stuff done to me. In a club. Once. I was drunk and it was dark. I….And I kissed women. And uhm men. Woah, I just said that.”

“You just said that.”

“Forget I ever said anything. Actually? Forget about me all together. I need to go. Goodbye.”

“Yoongi, hey”, you stop him, holding his hands gently. 

Yoongi stops, avoiding your eyes as he does nervous gulps repeatedly. His glasses are starting to fog up by now. This is how high you are raising his temperature. You aren’t helping when you take his chin between two fingers gently. Yoongi feels like prey, vulnerable and totally at your mercy. And the most confusing thing? He likes it. A lot.

“I get that you’re nervous, but don’t be. I don’t judge”, you assure him. You can’t stop looking at him. It has become so much more exciting ever since his confession. Shit, you need to control yourself. It wouldn’t be mannerly to fall over him as if you are starving. 

“You don’t judge me?” he asks quietly.

“Of course not. This just totally messes up what I thought of you, so uhm, sorry if I still sound a little shocked.”

“Is it that bad?” 

“Not at all. I just always assumed that you were aro-ace because you said that anything romantic and sexual feels weird to you.”

“It’s not weird to me. I’m…” he lowers his head in shame, “I feel weird about being naked. The thought of being perceived in such a state totally gives me a panic attack. I just dipped whenever sex was insinuated and yeah, I did this for years until being untouched felt easier than the thought of being seen did. Now I’m in my thirties and a loser virgin.”

“Shit, I didn’t know this about you. I’m sorry that you feel this way and that you feel this way about yourself. I should have asked, you know, talked to you about it.”

“No, I’m glad you didn’t. I feel like a loser.”

“You’re not a loser. It’s totally valid to start later than others. I just don’t get it. You’re fucking gorgeous. People should be all over you all the time.”

“Oh”, he lowers his head.

“Sorry, insensitive. Trauma from a bad experience? Is that why you feel weird?”

“No, just insecurities. I guess. And, I don’t know, I guess just feeling like I’m gonna be judged for liking it a certain way.”

“How do you like it?”

“I’m a complete sub, but I’m a guy. I don’t know”, he explains rubbing his neck to self-soothe.

“I know it’s probably not gonna help you, but I think that you’re the most handsome man ever. And I like to snack on subby guys like you. Virgins are my favourite.”

“What?” he gasps, finally meeting your eyes. “But you like experienced guys.”

“Yeah, guys who have experiences in life. Someone who is mature and knows what he wants. You know, someone who will build me a home and who wants to take care of it together. Someone who knows what to say when the day is rough because he is empathetic and kind. This kind of experience is sexy. Someone like you is sexy.”

“What do you mean??”

“I have feelings for you. For quite a few years now.”

“Holy fuck.”

“That bad?” 

“No, just. Are you serious? I swear to fucking god, if you’re just messing with me, friendship over. I’m in a vulnerable state right now and I can’t take a fucking prank-” 

You silence him by kissing him. Yoongi’s knees give up, back colliding with the wall and hands grasping your waist. He is kissing you. Well correction, you are kissing him. But oh my god. 

You break the kiss, not because you want to but because you need to. Your hands are on his hips, your eyes undress him slowly. Yoongi suddenly feels eighteen again, lips still tingling from your kiss.

“I’m too fucking grown to mess with your feelings like that”, your voice sounds like heaven to him, “I know what I want and how I feel. You’re the guy of my dreams and the fact that you’re a total sub and a virgin just makes me want you even more. Sorry if this comes off as totally blunt, but this is my truth.” 

“Kiss me again. Please”, he begs, head far gone and body burning up. 

You give what he wishes for gladly. A kiss. So deep and emotional that it is difficult to handle. You press yourself against him, cornering him against the wall while Yoongi barely manages to keep himself standing. He digs his fingers so deep into your waist that he dimples your softness, his heart never raced like this before.

“Is this good? Do you like this?” you mumble between kisses, hands restless on his squirming body and lips starved for him.

“Good. So good.” He answers you in helpless, totally needy moans, still only grasping your waist because he is star struck. 

Just like he confessed, Yoongi kissed women before. And men. But none of the people he kissed felt like you feel. When he kissed them, Yoongi felt in control of himself and as if it was just a simple kiss. 

But with you? With you, there is no ounce of control left in him. This is so much more than a kiss. It makes him feel so fucking high. 

And needy.

So needy.

The kiss breaks, but Yoongi doesn’t get to breathe. You drag him to bed, throw him atop of it and climb him. His hands are pinned above his head instantly and his thighs finally know the weight of you.

“You have to stop me if I’m too fast”, you tell him.

“Don’t stop.”

You kiss him again. Needier than before. So much sloppier too. Yoongi can barely keep up, soon having to break it just to breathe.

“How do you fucking breathe when you kiss like this?” he asks.

“No idea, I always get dizzy”, you say and giggle, “sorry, I’m way too rough aren’t I?  Should we stop? How far do you want me to go?”

“All the way.”

You exhale shakily. Yoongi gulps. It’s out there now. He wants all of it with you. Take the hands of the wheel and shift to the highest gear. Yoongi doesn’t want this to stop. 

He gazes at your lips. They are puffy and wet from kissing. He did that, he thinks. He fucking did that and he wants it again.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

“Please.” He licks his lips nervously, which lets you know that he still wants to say something. “I just can’t promise you a good time. I’ll try, but you have to guide me.”

You chuckle, cradling his cheeks to lean down and kiss his lips.

“Just being with you, already means I’m having the best time ever”, you say, tugging on his lower lip playfully.

Yoongi moans, lifting his head to chase the sensation. You give him a playful growl, which totally messes him up, and shove his head back into the pillow. Again, it messes him up. It’s so sexy when you’re rough with him. Yoongi didn’t think that the things he fantasised about would actually feel this good.

“Do you like it when I’m rough with you? You’re moaning so much.”

“I like it so much. You’re so sexy.”

“Mhm Yoongi…I can be even sexier…”

You straighten up, giving him a playful smile as you hook your hands in your dress to take it off.

Yoongi lies, totally frozen, and stares at you as if you were a goddess. His brain can barely comprehend what is happening to him. He might actually develop a headache from mere sensation overload. Is he still daydreaming?

Yoongi gasps and pinches himself.

“Ouch.”

You laugh, lifting your brows in question, “what was that for?” you ask, throwing the dress to the floor.

“Just panicked and needed to check if I’m awake.”

“You’re dumb”, you laugh, leaning down and cradling his cheeks, “this isn’t a dream, silly. Although it feels like one.”

He gulps, gawking at your lips with needy puppy eyes.

“Touch me as I kiss you”, you say and claim his lips.

Yoongi shudders, squeezing his eyes shut and slamming his hands on your body with such passion that you gasp. You giggle, biting his lower lip.

“Sorry.”

“You’re good, fuck so sexy.”

You kiss him with tongue for what he did and Yoongi is a goner. He tries to figure out your rhythm, resulting in your kiss to be so much needier than you planned it to be. Not that you mind. Kissing Yoongi is a dream come true. You always knew that kissing his lips would be a different experience. They are so perfect. So pouty and soft and so goddamn pretty. Sometimes when he talked to you, all you could do was stare at his lips and daydream about how it would be to kiss him.

And now you are kissing him and it is better than any daydream ever made it out to be. Your heart is racing so much, your skin is twice as sensitive to touch and your pussy has never wanted to have cock more than she does tonight.

Yoongi is currently stuck in his own life-altering experience. He is touching you. The thing he fantasised about is actually happening and you are so much softer than you were in his imagination. Your skin is like the finest silk he ever touched. Warm and tender and soft. So soft. Yoongi thought that he would be obsessed with the spots where your underwear digs into you, but he was wrong. Your waist and back feel so good to touch. They fit under his palm as if his hands were made to hold you.

Yoongi doesn’t know just how tightly he can hold you, but he has to try. Just once. One squeeze. Strong.

“Yoongi, fuck”, you breathe, abandoning his lips to kiss a messy path to his neck.

“Oh woah”, he lets out, gasping for air afterwards. He shivers, squirming under you.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah…don’t stop, please.”

“I can’t stop. You smell so good and taste, mhm, your taste…” you trail off, dragging your tongue down his neck until you reach the collar of his shirt.

Yoongi realises quite a lot about himself right in this moment. He realises that the reason why he felt so weird about being naked was because he was never really turned on correctly. Because right now, he curses the existence of his fucking shirt.

“Wait.”

“Sorry, too far?”

You straighten up in sync with him sitting up. Your air catches in your throat as you watch him take off his shirt.

“You don’t have to if you feel weird about it”, you say.

“I want it”, he says and throws the shirt on the floor. He drops back in the pillow, gazing up at you submissively and so ready to be devoured.

Your heart might jump out of your throat if this keeps going. He is so beautiful. His skin is fair and his nipples are dark in contrast. They are so perky, currently hard and swollen from the cool air. His tummy is soft in contrast to his pecs and under his pretty belly button, a faint happy trail disappears in his boxers.

You have never felt more attracted to a person than you do right now. 

“I’m fucking serious when I say this. You are fucking gorgeous, holy fuck.”

“You think?”

“I do. Fuck, I can’t believe that you’re real. It’s insane.”

Yoongi squirms, heart doing somersaults in his chest. It basically goes crazy when you reach behind yourself to unhook your bra.

“Oh my god”, he whispers, ogling your breasts.

“Thought we could match.”

“Oh my god”, he insists and flutters his lashes.

“First pair of tits?” 

“In real life, yeah. Oh my god, you’re beautiful. What the fuck?”

You chuckle. He is so cute when he curses.

“Can I touch them?” he asks.

“Yes.”

Yoongi sits up. The sparks between you and him are electric. You look so deeply into each other’s eyes, sharing air and the same pulse. You give him a little playful smirk, flustering him.

Yoongi lowers his eyes, studying your chest. He lifts his hands to it, placing them over your breasts. 

You sigh softly, leaning into his touch. 

Yoongi exhales, blinking away the emotion in his eyes. 

He can feel your heart like this. It is racing. He can’t explain why this affects him the most, but it does. 

He lifts his eyes, whispering your name.

“Yeah? Is this good?” 

He gives you his answer by kissing you. He moans with you and while you make a sound because he surprised you, he makes it because he could feel your heart skip a beat and then speed up. And this is turning him on more than anything else.

He squeezes your soft breasts instinctively, feeling tingly when you moan and kiss him deeper in reaction. So he does it again. And again. And fucking again. Until he made up a rhythm and you roll your hips on his lap in a needy rhythm. Your arms are hooked behind his head, your fingers are playing with his hair.

Yoongi brushes his thumbs over your nipples, learning first hand what this does to you.

“Shit, this feels so good”, you sigh into the kiss, running your fingers down the nape of his neck so you can dance them up to his scalp again and grab more of his soft hair.

It feels so good to him too and so he does it again. And again. And again. And again until he made up a rhythm and your panties start to feel soaked against his thigh. He wasn’t born yesterday, so he knows that this is a good sign. He gets you wet. It’s insane to him, turning his brain into liquid.

“Yoongi, this is…” you trail off, hugging him close in a shiver of your body. His hands sadly have to slip to your back like this, but it doesn’t matter.

He feels your breasts squish against him and this is otherworldly to feel.

Yoongi is seriously so far gone. All that he currently exists for is the intimacy you and he share. He has never been as focused on anything as he is right now on what you and he are doing. 

You slide your hands to his hair and push with your chest. Yoongi falls. The kiss breaks, but the connection between your souls is still there. He gazes up at you through his slightly tilted glasses, having no idea how he should ever be normal again when he knows how you feel.

“One last chance. I’m serious, once you give me the go, I will fall over you like I’m a vampire and you’re blood”, you tell him, fucking him slowly with your hungry eyes.

He laughs. You laugh as well. The connection only grows. Fuck, you’ve never been more turned on than you are right now laughing with your best friend because you are both having a good time.

“Please be a vampire”, he allows you, readying himself for what was to come.

“Fuck, I’m gonna eat you”, you growl and fall over him just like you warned him that you would. “Lie back and enjoy, baby. This is about you now.”

Yoongi has to very quickly learn what he agreed on getting done to him is a lot harder to handle than he thought it would be. Your hands and mouth are restless and hungry. Touching and kissing and biting him everywhere. And the licking. Jesus fucking christ, there is so much licking happening that Yoongi soon starts writhing and squirming because it feels so fucking good.

“You’re so sexy. Holy fuck, your body. Yoongi, I’m obsessed. You’re so handsome”, you are babbling between your feast, driving away any kind of insecurity he could ever feel. 

And as you praise him constantly, you help him learn a lot about his own body. His collarbones are nice to be sucked hickeys on to. It feels really tingly when you run your fingers up and down his sides. His tummy is insanely sensitive to the point where he needs to squirm. And his nipples. Fucking hell, his nipples. Yoongi didn’t think that arching his back was possible but then you swirl your tongue over his perky nipple and follow it up with a bite, Yoongi is a goner.

“How’s it for you, handsome?” 

“Good”, he mewls.

“Good. It’s good. Baby, I’m so obsessed with you. Holy fuck”, you rasp and do the sexiest thing of dragging your wet tongue all the way down to the hem of his boxers.

Yoongi has never felt more desirable and at the same time ruined than he does right now.

Only lied out and devoured like this, does he realise that he is still in only his briefs. And that they are fighting against the second boner of tonight. It aches so much more than the first one. Quite frankly, Yoongi has never felt so much pain between his legs than he does right now as he is being explored by you.

“Please”, he begs, which he didn’t even know that he could do.

“Want me to take care of it?”

“Yes”, he mewls, writhing from side to side and rubbing his legs together. This was the sexiest thing he was ever asked. Yoongi doesn’t recognise himself anymore. What is happening to him and why doesn’t he want it to stop?

“I’m going insane, I mean it”, you confess, hooking your fingers in his soaked briefs. You take them off completely, throwing them on the floor.

The next moment is spend in star struck silence as you stare at his cock. 

He has the most perfect cock you have ever seen. Listen, you saw your fair share of dicks in your life and you can say with complete honesty, that Yoongi’s is the sexiest cock ever. His tip is flushed and his shaft curves slightly. The sexiest part, however, are the prominent veins spanning all over his cock. Of course someone with his hands would have a veiny dick. If this continues, you might start barking.

“___?”

You lift your eyes at his shy whisper, “yeah?”

“Can we turn off the lights?”

“Oh”, you realise, “totally! I’m so sorry for staring. I just haven’t seen such a sexy cock before. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable”, you explain yourself, reaching over to the light switch.

“Wait.”

“Yeah?”

“You really think that I’m sexy?”

“Yes, I’m serious. You have the kind of dick you only see in fanart. You know, the really sexy fanart on Patreon I pay for.”

Yoongi instantly understands what you mean. Sometimes you showed it to him because he asked under the pretence that he was just interested in art, while he secretly used these moments to make a picture of what you like. In his head, the dicks in these drawings were so much sexier than his dick could ever be, but if you seriously think that his dick looks like those dicks, Yoongi has won in fucking life.

“Keep the lights on”, he says.

“You mean it?”

“Yeah, keep them on. I”, he giggles, hiding behind his hands, “shut up, I look like this?”

You snicker, “mhm, you do. You sexy beast.”

“Shut up.”

You tug his hands away, pinning them above his head as you hold them. You look at him as if he was your everything, raising his pulse.

“I’m so into you”, you whisper.

“Please”, he begs, chasing your kiss.

You give it to him gladly, kissing him until air is sparse. And only then, you begin your next journey. Down to his aching cock, for which you feel so starved that it hurts. You use your fingers to paint a path for your tongue, leaving out his cock when you reach him to lick his inner thighs instead.

Yoongi twists the sheets. He didn’t know that this was a real thing. Sometimes when he lost himself in a good fanfiction and it talked about people twisting the sheets in pleasure, he always thought that this was the creative choice of the author. Nope. This actually happens and Yoongi has no control over it.

He twists the sheets and seconds later, tugs on them as you sink him into your warm mouth.

“What the actual fuck?” he gasps out, sitting up slightly. 

You purr around him, shoving him down with your hand on his chest.

Yoongi drops in the sheets, arching his back. There you are again, being a little rough with him. Yoongi gasps for air as if he has never breathed before, cock throbbing in your mouth.

You sink him in completely, moaning around him. He is the perfect size for your mouth. Oh you love his cock. You swallow around him, purring in pleasure.

Yoongi shakes, throwing his hands over his eyes which results in his glasses to fall off messily. 

“Stop. I’m gonna cum.”

You slip off of him, almost setting him off. His hips twitch, following your mouth. 

“So sensitive”, you coo, swirling your tongue over his cockhead while your fingers jerk off his length.

“Please. What the fuck. This feels so good. Stop, I have to- ah!”

“Mhhm, what a pretty cock you have and so sensitive”, you purr, giving it kisses.

One. Two. Three. Four because you love him. Five because he is so sweet. Six because he twitches so perfectly. Seven and then you sink him in again. 

You keep your tongue pressed against him, relaxing your lips so they would move around him as you fuck your face with him. Your right hand is playing with his dainty nipples, while your left is rubbing the base of his cock. 

“Please stop, I’m gonna-”, he can’t finish his sentence because you make him moan oh so easily.

You understand him nonetheless, slipping off his dick to talk. You switch nipples and slide your left hand to his balls.

“Please…stop”, he gets out, totally out of breath and quaky.

“You really wanna stop?”

“No, but. But. Ah. But I have to…oh god, I have to fucking cum”, he presses out, tensing his neck and putting his hand over your hand to squeeze it. His palm is sweaty and warm. This is so sexy to feel.

“Cum in my mouth, baby. I like it”, you encourage him, slipping him back inside to suck on his pretty cock. Vigorously if one may add, to the point where your cheeks fall in and Yoongi feels as if you are sucking the soul out of him.

“Ah! A-ah…” He grabs your head with his other hand, hips twitching uncontrollably. “Please, fucking shit, ah! Please, ___, please.”

You knew that he wouldn’t last long, but this wasn’t the goal. You want tonight to be fucking perfect and if this means that he orgasms in your mouth prematurely, then so be it. This is so sexy to you. It’s honestly everything you wanted for years. You thought about him like this in your most sinful nights, imagining the taste of him. And now you are greedy and want him as quickly as possible.

He tastes so much fucking sweeter than he did in your imagination, dulling your senses to nothing but him.

“Ah please. A-ah, oh god. Oh god.”

You slurp and moan as you suck him off, pushing Yoongi into the kind of high which nothing will ever be able to recreate. Orgasms from a mouth just hit differently. They are so much warmer and leave one’s legs just so fucking wobbly. 

And Yoongi currently experiences the first ever high like this, twisting your hair and cursing in a broken voice. You can also hear glimpses of your name, but they’re oh so broken in pleasure.

You swear that you actually came with him. Holy shit, he sounds so sexy when he orgasms. For just a second, one must think about his voice and then imagine it when a high shakes his body. Yes, exactly, the lethalness of him is out of this world. 

Just like he did for his first orgasm, he comes down with a growl and gritted teeth, dropping into the sheets. He pushes you off, covering himself and fighting for air.

“Oh my god. Ahm. Oh god. Ah.”

You help him through it, kissing your way up to his lips. You made sure to swallow all of him before you kiss him.

“Good job, babyboy.” 

Droopy but with more confidence, Yoongi cups your cheek, kissing you back. He is a lot noisier, purring constantly. He even gives your lower lip a tug before ending the kiss.

“What the fuck”, he purrs tiredly, gazing at you. His cheeks are so flushed, his eyes are slightly glassy. He looks so happy. Shocked, but happy.

“First ever head?” you whisper your question, tracing his pecs. Your leg is swung over one of his thighs, knee resting between them.

“Yeah.”

You scrunch your nose, “I can assume that you liked it?”

“So much, you have no idea”, he says and licks his lips.

“You wanna say something?”

“I’m sorry for nutting so soon. I swear, this was really overwhelming for me.”

“It’s okay. I knew you wouldn’t last long. I rarely last long during head. It’s really sexy to me.”

“You like it too?” he croaks out, lifting the inner corners of his brows submissively.

“Yeah, but I rarely got it.”

Yoongi doesn’t like to hear this. Now that he knows how good it feels, he feels enraged thinking that such sensations are a rare thing for you. Someone like you should be adored this way constantly. The fucking moment you first kissed him, all he wanted was to make you feel good too. How on earth could other guys not feel the same?

“What’s with the angry face?” you ask him.

“It’s just…you should have felt it a lot.”

“You’re so sweet. I guess I just have trash exes.”

“You do. I never liked any of them”, he confesses, making you chuckle. He licks his lips, “can I?”

“Eat me out?”

“Yeah. Please.”

“Yes, oh my god.”

You and he switch places, kissing as you do. He is between your legs, hands on your body and skin melting with yours. 

He is the one to break the kiss, gazing at you. Your heart flutters because of him.

“If I do something weird or wrong, tell me please.” 

“Yes, I-” 

He interrupts you before you can continue by connecting his puffy lips with your neck. His fingers paint paths and swirls, his lips trace them. He even sucks on some spots, flicking his tongue over your skin just like you did to him.

“Yoongi…wow….” 

“You smell so good”, he whispers and purrs, rubbing his nose down your neck to your collarbones. “And you’re so soft”, he adds, following it with a small hickey on your left collarbone. And your right one. He doesn’t want it to feel left out.

“When I put your necklace on, I wanted to do this to you”, he confesses, totally sending you down a spiral because...

“What the hell? This is what you were thinking? Oh my god, Yoongi…aaah”, you moan, squirming.

“You’re beautiful”, he rasps and continues his path down to your chest.

He is going to take his time. Just like you did when you explored him. He is going to kiss you, bite the soft spots and lick the tender areas. 

Yoongi might have started this evening as an inexperienced idiot, but he will be damned if he lets his inexperience stop him from loving you right. He fantasised about what he would do to you so many times that he has to be an expert at them now that it finally happens. And judging by how much you sigh and moan and squirm, he is doing a good job.

He kisses you, feels you up and uses his mouth on your nipples. He knows that this feels good. You moan because of it, chasing the touches. 

For just a second he slips off, trying to dirty talk even if his heart is hammering in his chest. 

“You have the prettiest tits. They’re perfect.”

You sigh and arch your back to chase his lips in reaction. Yoongi takes your nipple back inside, closing his eyes. Perhaps he isn’t that bad at dirty talk. You seem to really like it.

Yoongi feels confident in continuing. He explores your tummy and waist, wanting to make you feel so good.

He wasn’t born yesterday. He’s grown enough to know that if it feels good for him, it also feels good for you. So he tries to mimic what you did to him and hopes that it feels good to you. He just doesn’t know how good it actually feels until you break the silence with a curse. He was in such a trance, mind completely focused on you, so hearing you curse feels like a slap to the face.

He is between your legs by now, having nuzzled your inner thighs before. He looks up at you, frozen in panic. Did he do something wrong?

“This is fucking insane, I’m so horny”, you confess and chuckle, “fuck, just lick me.”

Yoongi’s cock tingles. As does his stomach. So you liked it. A lot. 

“Do you want it over your panties? Uhm, they’re so pretty”, he asks shyly.

“Thanks, they’re lace.”

“I know. The lacy kind. I like them.”

You meet his eyes. He is shy, but courageous at the same time.

“You say the sexiest stuff. No panties, want you raw”, you say and lift your butt so you can take off your underwear. You lift your legs too, keeping them in the air when you throw the panties to the side.

“Wow, this is…wow”, Yoongi whispers, staring without shame. His mouth is agape, his eyes are widened.

“Come closer, baby.”

“Okay. Like this?” 

“Yes, like this.”

Yoongi almost passes out when you put your legs over his shoulders and writhe sensually. This is so hot.

He looks up at you, deep into the sultry eyes you give him.

“You look so good with my legs on your shoulders, handsome”, you coo.

Yoongi snorts a chuckle in coyness, lowering his eyes because he possibly couldn’t look at your eyes anymore. You snicker, enjoying his flustered reaction with a racing heart.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

Yoongi doesn’t need to be told twice. He wraps his arms around your thighs and goes down on you, gazing up at you as he does. He needs to see if you like it. You gasp, thighs tensing under his fingers.

Yoongi needs nothing more than the first lick to already be obsessed, moaning into you. 

“You taste so good. What the fuck, I missed out big times”, he says and buries himself in you again.

He looks for the good spot with slow flicks of his tongue, making it feel incredible for you without even trying.

“Is nice, baby”, you sigh.  

But he thinks that he could do better. Yoongi knows from fanfiction that women can arch their backs from getting ate and you aren’t arching it yet. 

He lifts his mouth, gazing at your pussy. He needs to study you, make out where to focus on. His hands rub your inner thighs as he memories the view of you.

“What’s the matter?” you sound desperate.

“Where do you like it most?”

“Oh. Oh wow, this is sexy. I guess I like it here a lot. You know what a clit is, right?” you show it to him.

“I do. Yours is so pretty”, he whispers, drooling. 

You mewl and drop in the pillow, “fucking hell, I’m so horny.”

“Same”, Yoongi confesses in the sexiest rasp ever and buries himself back in you. He took a glimpse and thinks that he knows the spot now. He swirls his tongue, waiting for your reaction.

You writhe, rubbing your feet over his back as your legs move with you. A small moan escapes you.

Better. He can do better. Yoongi fixes his tongue. He feels the difference first and sees the effect it has on you second.

You arch your back, twisting the sheets and curling your toes.

“There. What the fuck, ahmm.”

Yoongi feels euphoric. He closes his hands around your waist and presses his tongue closer. He swirls and flicks it, moaning each time you moan and squeezing your waist whenever you writhe.

“Okay. Woah. Ah. Wow. What the fuck? Yoongi, holy fuck”, you get out, genuinely losing it. 

The way he goes down on you feels so good that you completely forget that he never did this before. Of course he is a natural. Someone with his pretty mouth and witty tongue has to be good at oral. 

“Serious, Yoongi”, you grasp a bundle of his hair, “I’m already close. A-ah…”

Yoongi fucks the sheets, pulling you against his face until your butt is off the sheets. Your legs hook behind his head tightly, he purrs and grasps your hips, moving them for you so you are grinding on his face. 

This isn’t like him at all. This can’t be your shy, nerdy best friend. A demon must have replaced him. You lift your head with the little strength you have left, croaking his name.

This is actually him. Yoongi is between your legs, Yoongi is the one who grinds your hips on his face. This is actually him. Yoongi might genuinely go a little feral when he has your pussy on his tongue. She has him acting up. The realisation shoots shakes through your body.

“I can’t. Baby, fucking hell”, you moan, dropping into the pillow again.

Yoongi purrs into you, taking your clit between his lips to suck on her. He ends it by grinding his tongue against her, purring so deeply. 

“Holy fuck. Urgh, Yoongi”, you get out, tugging on the sheets and trembling.

Yoongi feels high. He is so eager to get you over the edge. So eager in fact that he starts using his entire mouth for it. Tongue and lips and messy saliva. And of course, he does everything right with it.

He throws you over the edge just like this.  Tongue kissing your pussy and using his strength to help you get there easier. He surprises himself as well with how hard it hits you.

“Yoongi!” 

He looks up at you in shock. Is he doing This? Is he responsible for the pretty face you are making and the tremors of your body? Yoongi curls his tongue against your throbbing clit, making you moan loudly and writhe. Fuck, he is the one doing this to you.

Yoongi fucks the mattress harshly, speeding up his tongue which results in you to wail up and tug on his hair.

“Yoongi! Ah, Yoongi!”

His name from your mouth. Yoongi feels delirious. This is so hot. He needs more of you. More. He sucks on your clit, totally lost to you.

“Sensitive! Baby, slow down!”

Yoongi can’t hear you, purring around you despite how much he overstimulates. 

“Yoongi…baby…slow urgh fuck.”

It takes you quite a lot of strength to actually wrestle him off of you. And he doesn’t let go without complaint. He mewls in distaste, soothing himself by sucking on your inner thighs instead. His grip on you is strong. Which is turning you on so much. Of course someone with his hands has strength in them.

You drop with a groan, squirming from side to side as you try to recover from one of your best highs ever. And it’s by none other than your shy best friend. With surprisingly strong hands. And a really fast tongue. You might not leave this night sane.

“You’re insane.”

Yoongi only stares for a moment before the unbearable desire to kiss you overcomes him. He starts at your tender inner thighs and kisses his way up to your lips eagerly.

He reaches your lips feeling droopy and totally devoted to you. You kiss him back eagerly, playing with his hair. But you don’t get to taste him for long, pulling him back to talk.

“What the fuck was this?” you ask, staring at his puffy, pink lips. They’re still glistening from what he did.

“Why? Was it bad?”

“Uhm, no? Hello? You just made me shake, what the hell?”

Yoongi blushes, looking to the side.

“I just did what I thought would feel good for you”, he mumbles with a pout.

“I can tell you that you did everything right. I’m done for.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, this was it for me.”

Yoongi feels equal parts proud and angry. He made you feel so good, but it was to such a level that you don’t want more.

“What’s with the pout?” you ask him.

“No, it’s nothing.”

You snicker, “you want more, don’t you?”

“Not if you don’t want to.”

“Lie down.”

Yoongi obeys, shivering when you cuddle into his side and begin tracing his torso.

“I’m not done with you either. Don’t you worry. Just need a quick breather.”

He blushes, looking to the side. He is so cute and you are still so droopy from the high he gave you that you end up giggling and stubbing his flushed cheek with your nose. You nuzzle against him afterwards. 

“You’re so cute”, you gush.

Yoongi accepts it silently, feeling too flustered to come up with anything. His heart is beating uncontrollably. Naked cuddling is everything. Being called cute comes close second. A kiss on the cheek is third.

“Are you really sure about more?” you ask him.

“Yes”, he nods his head vigorously, but falters as a question runs through him, “are you?”

“Yes I am. Just want to make sure that you’re still comfy. My first time was kinda traumatic, yeah. Don’t wanna do the same thing to you.”

“What? Who was the bastard?” Yoongi asks, furrowing his brows.

“I’m good, god I’m good. It’s been years and I’m over it. God, you’re so cute”, you gush, having to kiss him for being so perfect.

Yoongi is tense at first but relaxes very soon. He melts in your hands, rolling to the side to wrap his arms around you and kiss you deeper. With tongue. It’s perfect. Everything about him is perfect. 

It isn’t long and you are both so turned on that you are out of breath as you break the kiss. 

“I think I saw condoms in the bedside table”, you say.

“I’ll check”, Yoongi says and flips over.

You use the opportunity to place kisses on his back and shoulder. And Yoongi is done for. He manages just enough to get a condom but then melts into you, eyes closed and butt wiggling against you. All his mind thinks about is last year when you accidentally spooned him and he had to touch himself because of it. 

And now he is here. Naked and hot in your arms while you kiss his neck and rub his nipples. 

“Please”, he sighs, placing his hand over yours, “please take me, I can’t handle this anymore.”

“Fuck, you say the sexiest stuff”, you rasp and press yourself closer, “condom?”

He shows it to you. 

“Yes, thank god. Imagine if there were none and we’d have had to stop because of it.”

“Don’t make me think of that”, he cranes his neck, gazing up at you with the most submissive and devoted eyes ever. “I don’t want this to stop. Not ever”, he whispers.

“Wow you”, you get out. You have to cradle his cheek and rest your forehead against his, rubbing noses together because the intimacy asks for it. “Me neither. This is so sexy, but also feels like everything I ever wanted.”

“Yeah.” He sighs his words. “Just wanna be with you.”

“Then put it on and let me have you, Yoongi baby. Please, I’ll lose my mind otherwise.”

“Yes, okay.” 

He wiggles out of your hug and sits up. You sit back, watching him work.

“You know how to do this, don’t you? You have to make sure to pinch the tip of the condom.”

“I know, I’m not a total noob. I did the thing with my tongue and made you cum, remember?” he teases.

He flusters you a little. He can be so sexy with his wit if only he wants to.

“Shut up, you. How could I forget?” you mumble and nudge his arm.

Yoongi smirks lazily, giving you sexy eyes.

You squeeze his arm, “hurry up, I’m serious.”

“Right. Sorry.” 

The condom is put on soon after and you can get back to kissing him. You climb his lap, playing with his hair and grinding your pussy against his cock.

Yoongi has to break the kiss because of it.

“Don’t do this.”

“Not a fan?”

“No. Yes! I like it, but I wanna be inside you. Not cum like this.”

“You’re sensitive again, mhm?”

Yoongi pouts, earning himself a kiss and a chuckle.

“You’re so cute.” You kiss his nose. “How do you want it? I could ride you or I could be on my back? Or do you want to slip inside from behind, mhm?”

“The first one sounds good”, Yoongi squeaks out, gulping. The options you listed are so sexy to think about. He feels droopy.

“Okay, then we’ll do it like this. Are you ready?”

“I’m ready”, he whispers, gazing into your eyes like a love drunk puppy. 

“Put your hands on my waist.”

He obeys because it comes natural to him to obey you. You lift your hips and shimmy into the right position. He looks up at you. His heart races so much. He is so ready. 

You sink him in.

Yoongi widens his eyes and squeezes your waist. A whimper leaves him against his will. 

“Slipped right in, baby. How’s it for you?” you talk to him while you sink down.

Better than anything. Life changing. Unlike anything he could have imagined. The best thing ever. So warm. And soft. So fucking warm. Yoongi has no idea how it is for him because he is currently overwhelmed by it. 

“A lot”, he gets out, tensing his thighs under you. He can barely keep his eyes open, feeling dizzy.

“Try focusing on me, baby. Breathe.”

Yoongi takes the shakiest and quickest breaths ever, fluttering his pretty lashes at you. You cradle his face with both hands, rocking back and forth as you take him in.

“You’re doing so well, baby. Keep breathing, that’s it.”

Yoongi always thought of himself to be someone independent, someone who doesn’t need to be babied and pampered. But to be honest? Being held like this and talked to in such a caring way feels really fucking good. Like, really fucking good.

He bottoms out and you waste no time, picking up the most lethal rhythm you learned. You swirl your hips, bouncing up and down on him as you do. And Yoongi is a goner. He squeezes his eyes shut, scrunching his nose. He gets out half of your name then only manages to create little sounds. Gasps and mewls and even a few whimpers. And he doesn’t even feel embarrassed about it because you hold his face in such a comforting way, which in return makes him feel so goddamn needy for pampering.  

“Pretty, you’re so pretty. And you feel so good, baby. You’ve got the best cock.”

“Be quiet, please”, he croaks, voice slightly pitched and so shaky.

You chuckle, “you’re not into dirty talk?” you ask, knowing very well that this wasn’t the reason why he told you to shut it.

“Please, don’t tease me”, he instantly figures you out, leaning into your touch because it’s so difficult to keep his head held high. He even pouts, cheeks squishing as they melt into your palms.

“I can’t help it, you are so easy to tease”, you whisper and shove him down into the pillow. 

“Ah, wait.”

“You okay?” 

Yoongi reaches behind his own head, pulling out his glasses. He checks them.

“Okay, they’re good. I laid down on my glasses”, he says and puts them on, “now I see you in 4K again.”

You snicker, “you’re a dork”, you lean down and kiss his cheek, “and you’re so much fun to ride”, you add in a sweet coo, clenching down on him to really get the point across.

Yoongi twists the edge of the pillow and throws his head back, mouth agape and throat producing the sweetest moans. You give his nose and chin a kiss each, then sit up to show him how much better it can feel. You put your hands on his chest, playing with his perky nipples as you pick up speed.

“Wait. Slow. Please”, he begs, mewling each time you bury him deep inside you. His body is trembling so much and he feels so much pressure in his stomach. It is so deep and hot, spreading down his legs as well. He is repeating himself here, but this just feel so fucking good.

“You’re so sensitive”, you tease, slowing down for his sake. You keep him buried deep inside, swirling your hips back and forth while you rub your hands up and down his chest.

He looks up at you, lids heavy and cheeks flushed. His hair is hanging into his face messily, his fingers squeeze your hips.

“I can’t help it”, he breathes out, gasping for air afterwards.

“But you like it, don’t you?” you are teasing him, which Yoongi instantly figures out.

“Please”, he squeezes your hips in warning, “don’t tease me right now.”

You chuckle, bending down to mouth at his jawline, fingers playing with his hair.

“Sorry, you’re so fun to tease, baby”, you rasp and tug on his earlobe with your teeth.

Yoongi mewls, bucking his hips up involuntarily. It knocks a moan out of you, which you let him feel against his ear. Of course it drives Yoongi crazy. Why shouldn’t it? He bucks his hips up again, melting into a mess when you moan in reaction. One more time.

“Fucking shit”, he gets out, rolling his head to the side you are at, claiming your lips in a messy kiss. He even cradles the back of your head for it, holding your waist with his other hand as he rolls his hips up. It’s intense like this, but manageable. He can control the speed like this and he has to concentrate on moving, which means his brain isn’t solely zoned in on the hot tingles.

It’s also fucking ecstatic how much this makes you moan. Yoongi gets so high from it, breaking the kiss to whisper against your lips.

“Your pussy’s heaven.”

You shiver, twirling his hair.

“You know that if you talk like this and – ah – fuck like this, I wanna ruin you?”

“Do your worst then”, he challenges, which thinking back, was a very stupid idea.

You give him a dirty smirk and sit up.

“Right thumb on my clit. Now.”

Yoongi obeys.

“Good. Play with it”, you order and lift your hips only to slam them down as you begin your punishing rhythm.

Yoongi thought that he could do as he was told. Nope. His thumb stays unmoving because his brain stops working as you increase the pleasure by a hundred. He shouldn’t have challenged you. What a stupid fucking thing he did. He is going to climax. It’s too intense.

“Slow. Please slow, I don’t wanna cum already please.”

“Nah, you wanted it, so bear it.”

“Fuck, urgh, fuck ___.” he growls, scrunching his face.

“I know, baby, I know. Just keep breathing”, you coo, arching your back so you can dance your hips on him. It feels fucking incredible to you because his cock hits the best spots and his thumb is perfect to grind on.

“I was wrong, I can’t cum yet. Please.”

“But Yoongi, I love when you cum”, you taunt, smiling wickedly.

Yoongi whimpers, arching his back helplessly. There is no way in hell that he can last any longer. You fucking ruin him.

“Please, I really can’t hold it anymore”, he tries again, grasping your waist to the point where he bruises you accidentally.

“Then don’t, baby. Be my good boy and cum for me.”

Yoongi always fantasized about how it would be to have you order him to climax. This fantasy helped him over the edge so many times in the past. And now it’s actually happening and it sounds so much sexier than he could have ever imagined.

Yoongi orgasms with a moan of your name, throwing his hand over his face and twisting his own hair this way. His thumb stutters on your clit as he uses what last strength he has left to keep it there.

“Oh my god, how do you look so sexy when you cum? Fuck Yoongi, you’re making me cum too”, you confess, tightening around him as your own high hits you. Being with him was enough to get you there.

He comes down first, mewling as you ride out your high and therefore overstimulate his poor cock. When you finally come down as well, Yoongi swears that he is one second away from crying, glasses dirty from pressing his arm against it.

“Oh god, baby”, you whisper shakily, dropping on top of him, “baby. Yoongi baby, oh my god”, you babble, cradling his face as you kiss every single inch of it. “Baby, oh my baby. You were amazing, oh baby just come here, you.”

Yoongi feels so good. Yes, what old news, but fuck he feels so good. Is it actually humanly possible to feel so goddamn satisfied and loved and giddy? Because he thinks that he might be doing something inhuman right now with how fuzzy he feels.

“How are you? Are you okay?”

“M’kay”, he gets out, nodding his head.

“Yeah? You’re okay? Was it good for you?”

“Yeah. But so short…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. It was your first time. It’s allowed to be short. Besides, you held out longer than some others. You even thrusted your hips for a little.”

“I guess. I’m…really tired”, he confesses and exhales deeply, rolling his head to the side to stub your palm with his nose. He kisses it next, smiling in such a giddy and pretty way.

Then he giggles, peeling his droopy eyes open to gaze up at you. You scrunch your nose, giggling with him.

“Did we really do this?” he asks.

“We did.”

“Oh god”, he lets out and giggles even harder.

“I know”, you agree, snuggling into him.

He hugs you, rolling to the side so he could really snuggle into you. His dick slips out of you this way, but this is okay because you are hugging and it’s so nice.

It takes you a while to calm down from your giddy giggles and once you do, you are facing each other, sharing air and gazing into each other’s eyes. He is dancing his fingertips up and down your back, while you dance them over his features. His glasses sit on his face weirdly because of the pillow.

He takes them off, snuggling deeper into the pillow afterwards. 

“They were annoying.”

“I can imagine.”

That the sex was out of the world is written on both your faces. The silence you share is so familiar, but a hundred times more intimate than it was in the past.

“Does it always feel like this?” he whispers.

“So good?”

“Yeah. I feel fucking amazing. Does it always feel this way?”

“Not with everyone, rarely, I don’t know. It felt like this with you.”

Yoongi’s eyes fill with emotion. He takes a deep breath and exhales, cupping your cheek. You lean into the touch, lowering your lids halfway. You still get butterflies when he touches you like this. He is so gentle with it.

“What are we now?” he asks.

“Can I be honest?”

“Please.”

“If-”

“Actually, if it’s something bad. Can I get dressed first? I don’t wanna get my heart broken naked” he interrupts you.

You chuckle, “can I finish?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. What I wanted to say was. If we are anything other than boyfriend and girlfriend, I will actually cry. I secretly yearned for you for years.”

“I’m so glad that you said this”, he confesses and blushes.

“You are?”

“Yeah. I feel the same”, he says and meets your eyes.

You squeak, having to giggle afterwards because you are so goddamn giddy. Yoongi giggles with you, kissing you back eagerly when you smooch him. And smooch him. And smooch him again.

“Oh my god, Yoongi baby. You’re my boyfie now?”

“Yeah, I’m your boyfie”, he says in a cute way, heart dancing in his chest. “Can I tell people that I’m your boyfie?”

“Of course, oh wow, you’re making my heart burst.” You start babbling which you always do when you’re happy. “Okay, but I need to take you out on a date tomorrow, I’m serious. A real date. Breakfast. The biggest breakfast ever because the restaurant was already closed tonight.”

“What? You didn’t even get dinner?”

“It’s alright. I snacked on you, didn’t I?” you tease, wiggling your brows.

Yoongi looks away, blushing vividly, “shut up, this isn’t funny”, he mumbles, pouting.

You laugh, “I think it is hilarious actually.”

He meets your eyes fondly, squeezing your waist gently.

“Whatever.”

You smile and run your fingers down his temple. Yoongi lowers his lids in relaxation. 

“What’s gonna happen to us now?” he asks.

“Right now? We should clean up and pee to prevent UTIs and then we could cuddle.”

“No I mean. For the rest of this trip?”

“Are you trying to figure out if I could be down for more sex?”

He blushes, “maybe?”

You snicker and push him onto his back. You put your arm over his chest, holding his hand above his head. Yoongi looks so happy to be where he is. 

“I’d be so down for more”, you tell him, smiling prettily.

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

“Me too. I’m so down”, Yoongi confesses, adding with a blush, “I think I might be obsessed, actually.”

You chuckle fondly and kiss him, knowing that from now on, life will be so much better.

[mwagneto]

something so wild it loops back around to being funny has been happening in hungary lately. the fascist government (fidesz) is waging an ever escalating war against budapest which just got even worse

the basic bg info is that fidesz has an overwhelming majority in the entire country but they can never fully win budapest even despite how much they cheat since most ppl here vote left, so instead they've spent the last few years trying to make life as impossible for the leftist lordmayor (KG here, for the sake of brevity) as they could, usually financially (withholding payments, making up new things the city is forced to pay, withdrawing random unexplained amounts of money etc)

then a year ago the mayor elections rolled around and fidesz attempted to get KG out of the office by withdrawing their own candidate and backing one they would've had more influence over, but even despite that (and fidesz committing massive voter fraud in front of god and everybody), KG won again, by like 300 votes (total number of votes was almost 800,000 for reference) which made fidesz's campaign against their own capital city even more aggressive, like they somehow think actively making the lives of the people in budapest shittier will make them not want to reelect KG aka the guy who isn't responsible for it ?? it's some insane pettiness you'd see on a playground but executed by a dictatorship instead, for some reason

anyway the latest development is that fidesz, without warning, withdrew 10 billion forint (~28 million usd/~24 million eur) from budapest a few days ago in order to finance the crumbling economy of the rest of the country, which essentially means the city is Entirely out of money. can't pay for anything. had to shut several services down and create an emergency council that constantly monitors their finances so they can attempt to stay afloat. it's an absolute mess and public transport workers are going on a demonstration strike this friday for 10 minutes as protest but will do a full strike later if fidesz doesn't listen

all this finally brings us to what this post is mainly about, which is that now i get to have the INCREDIBLE experience of sitting on public transport and seeing the usual anti-KG/pro-fidesz propaganda posters that are everywhere (like pictures of KG's face in black and white with his eyes blacked out like a 2015 animatic with a caption like HE WANTS TO EAT YOUR CHILDREN) while the bus/tram/etc radio occasionally plays a short speech about how fidesz is trying to sink budapest and we need to stick together against the government so they can't destroy our city. genuinely fucking unmatched. clown country

[icrytearsofsadness]

A drabble about pet names / nicknames.

Steve was all about those cheesy, adorable pet names, and Eddie just ate it up. 

He could tell Billy did, too. With those big brown eyes and pretty face, an easy “Billy, dear?” falling from his lips, it was no surprise even Billy Hargrove would cave to Steve. 

Steve even managed to make insults sound sweet – his favorite was when Billy would tease him just on that side of actually mean, and he’d smile a cute little “whatever you say, asshole” and Billy was all over that in seconds. 

Steve’s pet names were designed to make them melt. Entirely for the purpose of crumbling Eddie’s resolve, because Eddie really needed to work on the campaign if he was going to be ready for next session, but then Steve was all doe eyes and “Eddie, sweetheart, please?” and Eddie never really stood a chance. 

Eddie had his little mannerisms, too. He liked poking fun, a bit. Calling Steve “big boy” just because, well, why not? It made him do that confused little frown. Adorable. And there was no question that if Eddie let “tough guy” or “hot stuff” roll off his tongue, a little sharper than he ever did with Steve, he was talking to Billy. But it was all just fun, teasing his favorite boys a little. To get them to smile or roll their eyes. Or jump him, on occasion, because Eddie always had been good at pushing his luck. 

Eddie had been aware of Billy’s nickname preferences since day one, when he’d heard “Harrington” and “pretty boy” used with nearly the same frequency. He wasn’t exactly surprised when “Princess” or “King Steve” came out, either, mostly reserved for when Steve was being particularly petulant or bitchy. There was never any telling if Billy’s pet names would be affectionate or degrading – he’d be cute about it sometimes, a little “help me out here, princess” from time to time. Mostly, though, it came out dripping. Eddie had practically needed to sit down the first time Billy had countered Steve’s “you’re making a mess, just let me do it, christ” by getting all up in Steve’s face and saying “well excuse me for not meeting the standards of perfect King Steve” with such viscera and barely-disguised want that Steve had snapped and pushed Billy back against the counter, and Billy had grinned like he’d won. 

If Eddie gave his boys nicknames to tease them and Steve called them sweet things to charm them, then Billy used his arsenal of pet names to tempt. Desire or anger, it was all the same to Billy, it seemed – a pissed off Steve was just as ready to snap as a pent up one, and Billy weaponized this with practised precision. 

Naively, Eddie was sure it would never be turned on him. 

Only Eddie was now sitting slightly agape on his bed with his guitar in his lap because Billy had just – 

Eddie had been fiddling his way through the chords of a new song, and apparently he’d been doing it for too long, because Billy practically threw open the door to his room. 

“Either play it right or turn it the fuck down, rockstar, you’re terrorizing Steve’s good mood,” Billy snapped, and then stormed right back out. 

Eddie had never felt so offended, embarrassed, and turned on in… a good long time. 

He had assumed it was some kind of fluke, just a pissed-off Billy saying whatever in the moment. But it came up again, a week later, in front of the mirror in Steve’s bathroom. Eddie was fixing his makeup right before a gig, smearing eyeliner just the way he liked it, when Billy had slipped up behind him, reached around to tug at the guitar pick strung around his neck like an asshole, and purred “lookin good, rockstar” before sauntering out. 

Eddie had barely gotten used to his new nickname by the time Billy decided to mix it up. 

He’d been caught staring at Steve, because the guy was wearing a cropped shirt and Eddie really couldn’t help it. Steve looked good enough to eat, and he was oblivious to Eddie’s watchful eyes as usual, but Billy always had been more observant. 

“See something you like, freakshow?” 

And Eddie knew he really shouldn’t like being called something so degrading, but Billy said it the same way he called Steve “princess” and Eddie was merely a man. 

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

May 9th

~*~

1. Hi can you find me some fics where

A) Wei Ying was shunned due to which he left and now he's found again and bought back into the fold by someone maybe lans or nie or someone and is still criticized by the Madam Yu in front of everyone n accused for something he wasn't even at fault for and then the others especially lans come to his defence. Would be best if it's Lan Qiren or Lan Zhan who tell Madam Yu off publicly.

B) Are there any fics where Wei Ying gets respected and rich without anyone else's interference like I want fics where Wei Ying earns all that cause of his own kindness and cause he's genius not cause of someone else or their help like people love him for who he is and this is like a tight slap to Madam Yu & Fengmian or anyone who belittled Wei Ying.

Thank you. These fics can be both modern or canon. @kan-chan-aqua

1A)

🔒 If you liked it then you should have put a (sect robe) on it by KizuKatana (T, 49k, WangXian, WWX & NHS, Canon divergent after Cloud Recesses lectures, Public humiliation (not the sexy kind), Sect posturing, no golden core transfer, Madam Yu and JFM’s A+ Sect Leadership, WWX joins the Nie) it's Nie who are defending Wei against Madame Yu and taking him under their wings, definitely recommend

Dispersing Clouds by dreamingofcake (E, 283k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Abusive YZY, Canonical Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Sex, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm (Background Character), Background Character Deaths, child deaths, Canon JC, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Cultivation Sect Politics, Homophobia, Heteronormativity, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Oblivious)

1B)

Dispersing Clouds by dreamingofcake (E, 283k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Abusive YZY, Canonical Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Sex, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm (Background Character), Background Character Deaths, child deaths, Canon JC, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Cultivation Sect Politics, Homophobia, Heteronormativity, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Oblivious) link in #1A I think Dispersing Clouds also works for this one, although the Lans do help Wei Ying sell his inventions.

🔒🧡 Truth Will Out (when caught on video) - End_OTW_Racism! by KizuKatana (E, 178k, WangXian, WN & WWX & WQ, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Modern Cultivation, YZY Abuses WWX, But this time it's caught on video, Canon Divergence, Cultivators wear body cameras for training, Partial core removal but WQ makes sure there's a foundation left, WWX is expelled from the Jiang Sect, And ends up making money live streaming his nighthunts, meet ugly, Dual Cultivation, WWX goes viral, Pretty much all the bad stuff happens in the first 2 chapters, LWJ Has a Big Dick, And fucks a new core into WWX with it, While the Jiang Sect Crumbles, No war, Qi fucking, Found Family) works for 1B but, in this one, the Wens help Wei Ying sell his inventions.

Chronicles of Sect Leader Wei Wuxian by Muggle_Diary (E, 114k, WangXian, XuanLi, JFM/YZY, CSSR/WCZ, LXC/LQY, NMJ/QS, WQ/OC, OFC\OFC, JC\OFC, Sect Leader WWX, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Different First Meeting, Canon Divergence, Minor Character Death, Anal Sex, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, Sex Toys, Explicit Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Rough Sex, Child Abuse, Child Death, War Hero WWX, Sunshot Campaign, No Golden Core Transfer, WWX Leaves the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, Cultivation Sect Politics, Wen Remnants Live, Abusive YZY, Abusive Jiang Family, Bad Parents JFM and YZY, JC Bashing, JFM and YZY Bashing, Yunmeng Jiang Sect Bashing, JYL and JZX Live, Jiang Family Bashing)

A Life Without Regrets by naqaashi (M, 163k, WangXian, JFM & WWX, JC & WWX, WRH & WWX, LXC & LWJ, LQR & LWJ, LWJ & NHS, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Murder Husbands, PTSD, BAMF WWX, Cultivation Sect Politics, Genius WWX, Cultivation Theory, Sentient Burial Mounds, Dysfunctional Family, Grief/Mourning, Angry WWX, No Golden Core Transfer, BAMF LWJ, Angry LWJ, One-Braincell WangXian, Idiots in Love, Requited Love, Requited Unrequited Love, Soft WangXian, Married WangXian, Soulmates, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Immortal WWX, Canon-Typical Violence, Not JC Friendly, Not Yunmeng Jiang friendly, not gusu lan friendly, Immortal LWJ)

~*~

2. Hi ! I'm looking for fics where mxy just had a kid or was unaware of being pregnant before sacrificing himself to wwx. Cue wwx waking up to a surprise.

I know there is at least 2 or more with that premises but i can only find one (Ever a part of me - by AlotikaWolf & RennieOnIceCream : https://archiveofourown.org/series/1316879)

I would apreciate it if you could help me 🥹🙏 @czeriah

Ten of swords, King of cups by Aiedail_Liadeia (M, 30k, WangXian, Mental Health Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, Panic Attacks, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha LWJ, Beta WWX, Omega MXY, Mpreg, Childbirth, Pregnant Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, Female Gaze, Nesting, Rogue Cultivator LWJ, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Past Sexual Abuse, Tender Sex)

~*~

3. Hello! For itmf fics that WY either in his original body or MXY's plotting and trying to escape LWJ but failingg? Tyyy!

~*~

4. A) Omegaverse where Omega Wei Wuxian dies, or nearly dies in childbirth. Sad and angsty pls. Ideally rape too pls

B) Omegaverse various of the male cast being omégas, get raped and die in childbirth

~*~

5. Hellooo!! I was wondering if there are any fics where WangXian adopts Mo Xuanyu? Dosent have to be the main story :) @unlimitedsparks

🔒 Light of Stars (and the Destroyer) by Sanguis (T, 22k, WangXian, Legends, Arranged Marriage, Pining, Pining for your spouse, Adoption, Canon Divergence, Married Couple)

🧡 Resplendence by FrozenMarVel ( E, 194k, WIP, WangXian, JYL/JZX, JC/LXC, Different First Meeting, Love at First Sight, Fluff, Crossdressing, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Flirting, LXC is a Good Bro, Fix-It of Sorts, CSSR is a Badass Woman, courting, LXC Ships It, Because Wangxian is Horny for Each Other, Jealous LWJ, UST, Gusu Lan Disciples Ship It, Lan Dad comes out of seclusion, and tries to be a better father, Explicit Sexual Content, No angst allowed, LWJ is soft as rice to waifu, Warning for JGS and JZN, Additional pairings to be revealed as they fall in love with each other, BAMF everyone, descriptions of violence blood and mentions of graphic injuries, Warning for C, WWX’s canon ghost harem, Ghost Harem Ships It)

at no other time by luckymarrow (M, 3k, WangXian, LWJ & MXY & WWX, LWJ & LSZ & WWX, Modern, Queer Families, Queer Youth, Child LSZ, Family Fluff, Non-Explicit Sexf, farming, Wangxian Run an Organic Farm as God Intended, Found Family, Families of Choice, Adoption, Trans Male Character, MXY Deserves Happiness, Married WangXian, Established Relationship)

emergent properties by luckymarrow (E, 8k, WangXian, LWJ & LSZ & WWX, LWJ & MXY & WWX, Modern, Family Fluff, Trans Male Character, Trans LWJ, Queer Families, Queer Youth, Adoption, MXY Deserves Happiness, And He's Gonna Get It Goddammit, Baby LSZ, Teen MXY, Crossdressing, but not as a kink, gender expression, Dilf4Dilf Wangxian, Penis In Vagina Sex, Blow Jobs, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Smut, gender euphoria, Cunnilingus)

not unspectacular things by taizi (T, 14k, WangXian, The Parent Trap Fusion, Unconventional Families, Adopted Children, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Getting Back Together, Happy Ending, the kids are alright, Families of Choice, Modern AU, Meddling Kids, Unreliable Narrator, Good Sibling JC, Protective NHS, One Big Happy Family, POV Third Person Limited) which has Wei Ying adopt Mo Xuanyu prior to his reunion with Lan Zhan.

i’ll take a secondhand monster by Stratisphyre (T, 24k, MXY & WWX, MXY & JGY, LSZ & LWJ, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Child Abuse, Bullying, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Kidfic, Minor canonical character death, Injured WWX, Earn Your Happy Ending)

❤️ For Both Of Us (And Time Is But A Paper Moon) by sami (E, 65k, WangXian, Time Travel, Some People Live/Not Everyone Dies, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Healing, Yunmeng Shuangjie, Canon Divergence, Asexual JC, First Time, Getting Together, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, [Podfic] Cold read of For Both Of Us (And Time Is But A Paper Moon) by kisahawklin, Для нас обоих (И время лишь бумажная луна) (Russian translation) by nomuad) features LWJ and JWY going back in time and WWX and LWJ adopt MXY

~*~

6. ITMF…

fics where we see wwx and lxc understanding lwj silent communication. like when he’s doing something with his face that only lxc and wwx can understand. sizhui can be added as well.

🔒 Look forward, back then back again by SerlinaBlack (T, 6k, WangXian, Human Sacrifice, Dragon LWJ, Not for Madam Yu fans, Yunmeng trio feels, Madam Yu's A+ Parenting, JFM's A+ parenting, YZY Bashing, WWX went to gusu, Lans are dragons, lightly implied eggyuan, and took JYL's last fuck to give with him)

The Meaning of Silence by The Silverfish (ZephyrAndTheSilverfish) (T, 14k, wangxian, Mind Manipulation, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Pining)

Important Distinctions by nagi_blue (T, 5k, gen, Fluff and Crack, [Podfic] Important Distinctions by semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona)

~*~

7. Are there any bad mentally ill, self destructive Wei Wuxian fics?

Stray Cat by Surprised_by_witches (E, 148k, WangXian, Modern AU, Dealing With Trauma, Angst, Depression, OCD, Past Drug Use, Non-Binary NHS, Brief suicide ideation, Slow Burn, Self-Harm, Past Child Abuse)

总有一天; a place to hide (can’t find one near) by yiqie (E, 76k, WangXian, Modern AU, Pianist, Getting Together, Mental Health Issues, Suicide Attempt, Suicidal Thoughts, Depression, Hospitals, Overdosing, Eventual Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note)

Rebirth of a Wretched Mayfly by marikazz (M, 15k, WangXian, Time Loop, Time Travel, Groundhog Day, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence, Not Really Character Death, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Trust Issues, Hurt WWX, Miscommunication, Heavy Angst, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Whump, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Okay, Mental Breakdown, Canon-Typical Violence, Existential Angst, Dissociation, Suicide, Angst with a Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, POV WWX)

Silence by Jaws20 (M, 34k, WIP, WangXian, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Abuse, Physical Abuse, First Love, Eventual Happy Ending, Slow Burn, PTSD, Healing, Mental Health Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Esteem Issues, Panic Attacks, Soulmates, Anxiety Attacks, Self-Hatred, Muteness, Depression, Loss of Control, Nightmares, Young Love, Childhood Memories, Jiang Family Bashing)

Discarded by teawater (E, 187k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Dying Lan children, Hurt/Comfort, YL WWX, Golden Core Reveal, Case Fic, Depression, Family Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Worth Issues, Angst with a Happy Ending, and it’s not always dark, POV Multiple, BAMF WWX, dubious morals in the Lan sect Feels, Pining, Grief, Fix-It, BAMF LWJ)

if i had the strength by agloeian (M, 16k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Fix-It, somewhat of a case fic, Heaven Official’s Blessing inspired gods & ghosts, No Spoilers for Heaven Official’s Blessing, Mild Alcohol Abuse, Mental Health Issues, WWX is not in a great place for a lot of this fic, He Gets Better Though!, this fic is all about learning to give yourself the help you give others tbh, Baby LJY, recovery fic, Accidental Baby Acquisition)

MingYu by Fino_Al_Cielo (T, 87k, WWX & LWJ, YL WWX, yunmeng siblings, Fix-It of Sorts, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, PTSD, References to Depression, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicidal Thoughts, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Trauma)

🔒way out there by hauntedotamatone (E, 48k, WIP, WangXianXian, Post-Canon, Crossover, Cultivation Sect Politics, Loneliness, Abandonment, Suicidal Thoughts, Transmigrator WWX, Grief/Mourning, Hurt WWX, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Threesome - M/M/M, Selfcest, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Post-The Untamed (TV), POV WWX, POV LWJ, POV Alternating, Depression, WWX's canonical cynophobia, Past Child Abuse, Voyeurism, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, WWX Whump, Illnesses, Major Character Injury, Ghosts, Sentient Burial Mounds)

🧡 (Un)Hidden truth by Sarah_R (M, 291k, WIP, WangXian, Suicide attempt, Time Travel, Hurt/comfort, Angst, Self-Harm)

~*~

8. itmf WWX!Concubine aus- especially if they include court politics!! Thank you!

The Legend of Moonflower by JJSIN2020 (E, 135k, wangxian, 3zun, A/B/O, Emperor LWJ, LWJ FUCKS, he has a whole harem of male omegas so of course he does, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Beta LXC, Omega JC, Omega XY, Omega XXC, omega SS, Omega OYZZ, Beta NHS, Mpreg, Wolves, Angst with a Happy Ending, Imperial China, Character Death, Fighting, Blood) link in #10

願陛下 | by his majesty's decree by sweetlolixo (E, 40k, WangXian, Imperial Palace, Emperor LWJ, Concubine WWX, Harems, Pining LWJ, LWJ is not a dragon in this one but he descended from them :), Childhood Sweethearts (sort of), Romance, minimal angst, Happy Ending, NHS & WWX are concubine BFFs, LWJ has NO EYES for anyone besides WWX don’t worry the harem is only for the plot setting, Fantasy, Pregnant WWX, Possessive LWJ, Fluff)

The Concubine Mo Chronicles Series by Enigmatree (T, 109k, WangXian, Royalty AU, Prince LWJ, Concubine WWX, Mild Hurt/Comfort)

impenetrable walls by gina - this one was deleted off AO3, but has a google doc but I wasn't able to access it and I'm not sure if it was posted by the author

Kingfisher Feathers by anonymous (E, 165k, WIP, WangXian, A/B/O, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Rut Sex, Knotting, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Palace, Royalty, Everyone Lives, Married but one of them doesn’t remember it, Amnesia, Historical Inaccuracy, Harems, but not really because we all know lwj only ever sees wwx, Emperor LWJ, War Hero WWX, Collars as a status symbol, Eventual mpreg, Bonding, Claiming Bites, Mutual Pining, Breeding Kink, hints of dubcon cos the whole situation is kinda icky, trope-typical sexism, Dubious Consent, Angst with a Happy Ending)

~*~

9. Hi! ITMF a witch au? My brain just imagined a Studio Ghibli style MDZs, something like Kiki's Delivery Service, where instead of swords they ride broomsticks and live in little cottages growing flowers and making potions, etc. Preferably something happy/light hearted, but I am open to anything witchy! Thank you!

Special Delivery by weilongfu (G, <1k, WangXian, Fluff, kiki's delivery service AU)

Magpie & Heron by BYZANTIUUM (the_fairweather) (G, WangXian, Art, Ghibli Inspired, Cute)

🔒 I Don't Need Light to See You Shine by yilinglazy (T, 6k, WangXian, LXC & WWX, Modern with Magic, Bakery, Familiars, Magic-Users, Custom Magic System, Chenqing is a cat, Suibian is a broom, Inspired by Majo no Takkyuubin | Kiki's Delivery Service, Doctor WQ, Baker LWJ, Delivery Person WWX, Domestic Fluff, Getting Together, First Kiss, Fluff, WWX & WQ Friendship, its budding but it's there)

🔒 all of this turbulence wasn’t forecasted by Anonymous (G, 7k, WangXian, Kiki’s Delivery Service, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Tenderness, Baker LWJ, Witch WWX, Cat Suibian, Mutual Pining, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, typical wangxian tenderness, gratuitous consumption of bread, it’s alright this is set in a bakery after all, Sickfic)

The Music Shopkeeper and the Witch by Rookseeksraven (E, 28k, WangXian, Inspired by British Folklore Magpie Rhyme, Magic, Witches, Witch Hunters, superstition and fairytale references, Implied/Referenced Burning at the Stake, Magpie Familiar, burned body, flashbacks to characters who already passed, smut in last chapter, Anal Sex, Typical Wangxian Antics, Biting, vaguely British setting, Angst with a Happy Ending)

Wei Wuxian’s Home for Lost Creatures by Stratisphyre (G, 22k, WangXian, LWJ & LSZ & WWX, Fusion, Fluff, Single Dad LWJ, Near Drowning, injured animals, First Meetings, Falling In Love, Modern with Magic)

Something Wicked by theroyalsavage (G, 6k, WangXian, Magic, Magical Realism, Strangers to Lovers, canon mostly-typical necromantic tendencies, Wangxian-typical tenderness)

light a lantern (and guide me home) by xuanxuanwo (ostentatiouslyrealistic) (T, 63k, WangXian, Moth WWX, Witch LWJ, Tea, Plants, Mountains, Loneliness, Curses, Curse Breaking, Melancholy, Friendship, Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Thunderstorms, Fluff and Angst, Minor Character Death, Memories)

if you go chasing rabbits by occultings (microcomets) (T, 23k, WangXian, Witches, Familiars, Witchcraft, Modern AU, Animal Transformation, Sharing a Bed, Fluff, Magical Bond, Getting Together, Makeovers, 🔒[Podfic of] if you go chasing rabbits by exmanhater)

Petrichor by unnecessary (T, 17k, WangXian, Modern AU, Witches, Soulmates, Magic, Getting Together, Angst with a Happy Ending, Kid Fic, Magic sentient forest, Cottages in the mountains, Canon Temporary Character Death)

~*~

10. Hello, do you have a fanfic which is there a person who is trying to steal either lan wangji or wei wuxian (and obviously not successful) @lanwuxian0725

The Legend of Moonflower by JJSIN2020 (E, 135k, wangxian, 3zun, A/B/O, Emperor LWJ, LWJ FUCKS, he has a whole harem of male omegas so of course he does, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Beta LXC, Omega JC, Omega XY, Omega XXC, omega SS, Omega OYZZ, Beta NHS, Mpreg, Wolves, Angst with a Happy Ending, Imperial China, Character Death, Fighting, Blood)

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11. itmf a fic where the reveals about WWX and the whole Jins being bad happen in the 13 years when WWX is still dead. :D

dormiveglia (in between sleeping and waking) by comforting_monachopsis (M, 13k, WangXian, XuanLi, Diary/Journal, Golden Core Reveal, Canonical Child Abuse, Canonical Character Death, YLLZ WWX, Oblivious WWX, Protective WWX, WWX Needs a Hug, Grief/Mourning, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Sort Of, Dysfunctional Family, Family Issues, Thirteen Years of WWX’s Death, Dead WWX, Angst and Tragedy)

To Be Named by Suibian_613 (T, 39k, WIP, WangXian, XuanLi, Canon Divergence, Out of Character, WQ is out of character, Everyone is probably ooc, canonical violence, Canonical Character Death, somewhat softer JC?, he has better emotion handling because spoiler: JYL lives, Somewhat Sentient Burial Mounds, WN and JC Rivalry, Sibling Rivalry)

finding you always, all ways by BlueFrogs (T, 31k, WangXian, ChengQing, Reincarnation, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Romance, Memory Loss, technically there is character death, but he comes back lol, Age Difference, due to reincarnation) but this second one has Wei Ying’s name cleared while Wei Ying is reincarnated to become a person named Wu Ming immediately after his death.

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12. Hey! Can you please recommend a wangxian fic that has a vibe like " everyone has their eye on lwj but he is only looking at wwx"

The Legend of Moonflower by JJSIN2020 (E, 135k, wangxian, 3zun, A/B/O, Emperor LWJ, LWJ FUCKS, he has a whole harem of male omegas so of course he does, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Beta LXC, Omega JC, Omega XY, Omega XXC, omega SS, Omega OYZZ, Beta NHS, Mpreg, Wolves, Angst with a Happy Ending, Imperial China, Character Death, Fighting, Blood) link in #10

🔒 Four Parts Honey and One Part Vinegar by masked (T, 13k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Junior Quartet Dynamics, Fluff, Humor, Time Travel, 5+1 Things, Jealous WWX, the Impeccable Trust between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, POV Outsider, everyone is Thirsty for Hanguang-jun as one tends to be)

Criteria by incendir (T, 10k, WangXian)

The Duality of Lan WangJi by AmaWrite (G, 1k, WangXian, Modern AU, Married WangXian, LWJ is So Whipped, Spoiled WWX, WangXian Household, LWJ is a Loving Husband, Heartthrob LWJ)

~*~

13. Itmf fics where WWX actually IS JFM's bastard son? (Preferably no modern era AUs. Most interested in JFM having had a poly thing with WCZ & CSR, but if not, that's cool too)

~*~

14. itmf motherly WWX fics pls!

as i stumble homewards by the_pretzel (T, 27k, wangxian, canonical character death, found family, food issues, trauma, LSZ pov, angst w/ happy ending, fluff)

🔒 Not Yet (There As Needed) by sunrise_and_death (T, 13k, LSZ & WWX, JL & WWX, JL & LSZ, WangXian, Post-Canon, Family Feels, Family Bonding, POV LSZ, This Fic Has Everything, even more yearning, WWX & LSZ figuring out wtf their relationship is, Dramatic Revelations)

your name, safe in their mouth by astrolesbian (G, 10k, LSZ & WWX, WangXian, Father-Son Relationship, Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, More aligned with CQL than novel canon, Miscommunication, Eventual Positive Communication, Trying to be a family, how to tell your dad you want him to be your dad in 6 easy steps!)

All This Devotion by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 33k, WangXian, Mpreg, Part Two, overly indulgent nonsense, Curtain fic)

Jiang Xiaolian’s Guide to Motherhood and Gardening by bumbledees (T, 14k, WangXian, JC/WQ, JYL/JZX, Crack Taken Mostly Seriously, purposeful baby aquisition)

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15. Itmf/u know what'd b interesting? So many fics show jl hating wwx & the wen from stories, that Wen/wn were mindless beasts & wwx an active intelligent evil, that chose a dark path for selfish ends. But what if the stories told to jin Ling focused on wwx's purported madness (or he interpreted them as) that the great once hero was a tragedy that was helplessly lured to his own destruction by the malicious wen remnants & mindlessly used against his own loved ones? Something to be pitied, & respectfully stopped?

Instead of wwx being attributed with more agency than he had, that he was stripped of it. Because wen ruohan was a near immortal who studied resentful energy for decades, surely he would of taught his trusted advisors, his beloved loyal niece and nephew - a woman known to assist him in his studies and to effect how resentful energy effects the mind? (Wen ruohan was evil yet sane! They would say, because of her knowledge and actions!) And wwx, he was a prodigy, but he only studied resentful energy for a handful of yrs, in a time of great stress & scarcity. He obviously had no means or time to perfect it, or learn every trap! He was saving lives, inverting direct attacks on the battlefield. Not conducting academic studies for its more insidious effects. Did u not see how sick he was at the end of the war? How much he sacrificed and broke himself for us, for our cause? Of course he would be loyal and not sympathize with our enemies!

Obviously, the wen woman slipped our net. She snuck upon him, where he was weak and alone in some back alley where he should have been safe. That is our fault. She twisted his mind and his memories, creating debts that weren't there, for surely others would remember them! (Forgetting the jc was unconscious for days after the fall of Lotus pier, that jy was not permitted to speak). She stole our wwx away from us; turned against his own beloved brother & sister till he could not recognize them! He would never have lifted a hand to harm them! He was the best of us; so honorable and good! We could have no fault in his turning from us, it must be by the wicked wen's design. He is a poor tragic stolen knife, she had to be stopped & alas, he the dangerous weapon, destroyed. His memory honored. (He would never have wanted to harm us after all).

And bby jl grows up hearing these stories, doted on yet neglected by his many very busy uncles. bby jl does not resent his uncles for being busy, they're important sect leaders! He wants for nothing, they give him great presents! Sometimes even smiles and head pats! But he's often lonely and bored, most people emotionally distant due to his station. Jiujiu lives far away in lp and jl can rarely visit, uncle xichen even faaaarther, sect leader nie is kinda scary & nhs is weird & they never visit except for parties jl is too young to stay up for.

He's never met hanguang-jun, he's real sick & doesn't leave cloud recesses. His new aunt hasn't lived at koi tower very long and she and uncle guangyao r really busy with the new baby. Grandma never really let him play with them anyway when she was alive, and grandfather got mad the last time he was around 'making noise'. So when Jin Ling hears stories about his dajiu that his mama adored, who saved a bunch of kids with his dad from a suuuuper evil tortoise, that was nice and funny and smart and loved to play, and was super super loyal to his family, Jin Ling is ENCHANTED. He would love another uncle, esp a dajiu who would dote on him and follow him around constantly talking, that'd protect him from the bullies Jin Ling could totally handle on his own BTW that's why he never told anyone obvi - not cause no one would listen, someone who he could play with and hug him, who might tell him more about his mom & dad & never ever leave him alone in the silence? Well, Jin Ling WANTS. & jl always gets what he wants.

He grows up abstractly loving this dajiu he never met. Who feels more real and substantial & directly related to him than some sick uncle up a cold mountain he never met. (Uncle xichen is nice, but cool in everything he does, quick to leave, as if something about koi tower makes him uncomfortable, tho jl doesn't realize that no one else notices). [Perhaps lxc knows the truth from his brother - too late, & tries to preserve the peace for his secret nephew yuan?].

So when wwx comes miraculously back to life; Jin Ling is ecstatic. There is no complicated history for him here. While everyone else is like, 'oh no! The weapon has returned, however will we destroy it once more?!' Jl is hopeful. Without a master to control it, surely he isn't an active threat this time? There might be a bit of a problem with the guys' memories &/or brainwashing, but he saved those randos at the nighthunt!

So instead of hating and attacking the horrible yllz on sight, jl is like, ah yes magic second chance with uncle. I shall save him! Wwx is confused by this inexplicable turn of events. Bonus points if wwx's mind/memories r a bit messed up, but because of his resurrection, not something the wen did. With a backdrop of the same & new crimes/secrets being revealed by jl's good-natured meddling protectiveness. Jl: if I can adopt random puppies off the street, surely I can adopt my actual uncle?! Meanwhile jc is horrified and emotionally constipated, vacilitating between protective extremes of 'jl get back that could bite u' and 'oh no, despite common belief, maybe I COULD of saved my brother first time around'.

I'm picturing like a 8-10yr old jl, lz is still more in the hobbling stage of his recovery. Jc doesn't know how to deal with the idea his bro may have been married with a kid when he died (the former is also knows to wwx, but at this point no one is treating him as a reliable source of information) & is already upset he couldn't get partial custody of jl that he doesn't get to see enough of & now finds out about a whole other secret nephew he could of been doting on. Lxc smells a cover up but he's not sure who (in his & other's sects) were in on it or legitimately fooled, & theorizes that wwx may have been felled by a slow acting resentful poison from wrh in the final battle than malice from the remnants, who MIGHT have been actually helping him, if only as a ploy for self-preservation anywhere a jl who wants to save wwx from himself instead of destroy him at first sight would be interesting.

Maybe in this au lz is kinda a protective cornered animal due to trust issues, lxc is also protective but weilding politics like a double edged sword. Was lz hurt I'm punishment or deliberately targeted by the conspiracy to allow better access to wwx? Maybe an over the top punishment to sneaking out to try to see wwx ('protect him for his own good') that left him vulnerable to attack

~*~

16. Hello!

I'm itmf very lonely WY (modern au).

Thank you 🤗 @best-before-end

🔒(we've got) time for one more by impossibletruths (E, 71k, WangXian, Modern AU, Rock Band, Siblings, What It Means To Be Lonely, Late Night Conversations, Mentions Of WWX's Subpar Mental Health, The Terror Of Admitting What You Want, Minor ChengQing, Minor XuanLi, Weddings, Fatherhood, Music)

Care and Feeding by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 16k, WangXian, Modern With Cultivation, Sex Demons, slight dubcon, but all parties are happy, Hurt/Comfort)

A Silent Scream for Help - End_OTW_Racism! by PrinceInuYasha (T, 12k, WangXian, Modern AU, Suicide Attempt, Blood and Injury, Hospitalization, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Trauma, Depression, wwx needs a hug, and he gets the hugs!, lan family taking in wwx, Nice LQR, Abusive Jiang Family, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Love Confessions, First Kiss, High School)

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17. I'm ITMF people's favorite under-loved fics! What well-written stories do you absolutely adore but feel that they have distressingly fewer kudos than they deserve? @doctorbunsenhoneydew

Who you belong to by Radiencia, UglyBeautiful (E, 58k, WangXian, LXC/OMC, NMJ/WWX, LXC/JGY, Switch WangXian, endgame wangxian, Mutual Masturbation, Masturbation, Shower Sex, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Rimming, Kissing, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Swearing, Pining LWJ, Accidental Baby Acquisition, not a literal baby, a child, Age Difference, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Older LWJ, Younger WWX, Slow Burn, Bed-Wetting, Childhood Trauma, Parent Death, Child Abandonment, Child Neglect, Fisticuffs) this author writes in a UK setting so it may take a minute to get used to jumpers and arses (😂) but they're a vivid story teller that creates a whole immersive world!

my apple tree, my brightness by trickybonmot (E, 5k, WangXian, Science Fiction, Angst, Not A Fix-It, Not a Time Loop Either, sweaty sex, sweat as lube, Come as Lube, But don’t worry they’re cultivators, LWJ’s Regret, LWJ in Seclusion, Hopeful Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Not a ton of comfort but some!, Grief, Healing, [Podfic] my apple tree, my brightness by shash_reads (sunkitten_shash), [Podfic] my apple tree, my brightness by nonminus (nonplussed)) which is a very cool scifi au

acquainted with the edge by el_em_en_oh_pee (E, 26k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, America, Case Fic, Pining, Platonic BDSM, BDSM, Bratting, Face Slapping, Cock Slapping, First Kiss, First Time, Summer Camp, Academia, childhood friends to esteemed 'platonic' colleagues to lovers, pining while not-fucking, Memories, Predicament Bondage, canon-typical lubrication, light cock humiliation) which is a gorgeous modern au case fic that wrecks me every time

風起時 | The Wind Rises by therealandraste (T, 16k, WangXian, Inspired by Nirvana in Fire, Strategist LWJ, Cavalry commander WWX, Another siege of the burial mounds, there's a duel, Competence Kink, Canon-Typical Violence, Swearing, but very minor, Kissing, Implied/Referenced Animal Death) which is a historical no magic au

If I should come upon your house by bluerainmist (E, 11k, WangXian, Female LWJ/Female WWX, Modern with Magic, Cultivation world transplanted (somehow) to the lonely American West, Angst with a Happy Ending, Reunions, Getting Together, Crying During Sex, Chekhov's vibrator, Identity Porn, Hurt/Comfort, Lil Apple is a pickup truck, YLLZ WWX, Grief/Mourning, Catharsis, Yearning, Playing fast and loose with worldbuilding, Pining while fucking, Romance, Loneliness, fem!yllz, Relationship Negotiation, Dom/sub Undertones, Under-negotiated Kink, Love Confessions) which is a modern wlw au that is so beautiful and poetic it takes my breath away and also has my favorite tag ever: checkov’s vibrator

wuchang by auberjing, hotpotluck_chaoscollective (M, 4k, MM & WWX, MM & LWJ, WangXian, Modern, Supernatural Elements, LWJ & MM Friendship, Past MM/WWX, MM & WWX Friendship, Businesswoman MM, Medium WWX, Professor LWJ, Cooking, MM’s journey of self-discovery, Friendship, Self-Discovery, Family Feels, Bisexual WWX, Bisexual MM, Aromantic MM, Implied Sexual Content, Hopeful Ending, Family History, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note, folk religion) which is another modern au that gets into some very cool mythology!

Shotgun by EClairatee (E, 19k, WangXian, Grief/Mourning, Smut, Modern, my other car's a sword, irresponsible amount of carbon emissions, Friends to Lovers, fuck buddies, Pining LWJ, Hurt WWX, Road Trip, Unreliable Narrator, Emotional Hurt/Comfort)

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[mxstellatayte]

Would a one shot abt Charles and the vibrator panties be a possibility. Asking for a friend😸

it most certainly would, dear nonnie!

hope you enjoy :)

nsfw below the cut <3 minors please do not interact!

warnings: she/her pronouns used for reader, exhibitionism, boring white men yapping on a catastrophic level, dom!charles, sub!reader, vibrator use!, oral (f receiving), charles leclerc eats pussy for his own pleasure argue with the wall, charles leclerc speaking french MMMM, EXHIBITIONISM, carlos makes a cameo

you’ve been walking around the ferrari event all night and you can’t think of any place you want to be less than this blasted gala. it’s a marketing event, so you have to maintain a certain level of composure throughout the evening, but it’s difficult when charles’ eyes meet yours across the hall and his right hand is in his pocket, fingers dancing just over the button to the remote that’s connected to the vibrator nestled in your cunt. the anxiety of him potentially pressing the button all night is almost worse than when he actually does. your fingers tightly grip the cocktail glass in your hand, sipping the drink in an attempt to soothe your nerves. the smooth burn of the expensive whiskey does nothing to calm the boiling feeling in your core, and you nearly jump when you feel his left arm wrap around your waist. 

“good evening, mr. leclerc,” the executive of some social media marketing company says. you haven’t been paying attention to the conversation for the past twenty minutes, the slickness in your core overpowering your will to pay attention to the conversation at hand.

“good evening. i see you’ve been speaking to my partner, haven’t you? i hope you haven’t been boring her too much.” he says it so smoothly, so carelessly, that it makes you want to scream. how dare he have fun when you’re feeling such sexual torture. 

“if i have, she’s been hiding it quite well,” the executive responds. “i was just explaining to her our ideal plan for working with scuderia ferrari in terms of social media marketing. she had some incredible ideas for potential campaigns if our deal goes through.”

“yes, that sounds like her,” and you nearly spill your drink on yourself when the vibrator inside of you turns on, a quiet yelp pulling its way from your throat. “oh, no, love, are you okay?”

“yes, i’m okay, thank you. if you’ll excuse me a moment, gentlemen.” your drink finds its way into charles’ hand and you try your best to walk in a straight line and keep your legs from quivering. charles does his best at putting on a façade of pure ignorance and confusion as he excuses himself from the conversation as well, utilizing the excuse of unusual behavior on your part to easily leave the conversation. 

you barge through the heavy door to the bathroom and barely have the sense to check the smaller stall that contains the toilet before leaning against the cool tile wall and exhaling a heavy breath, cupping a hand over your cunt in an attempt to relieve the pressure building. After taking a few breaths, you jump when the door opens, but you’re glad to see charles’ face when the door opens. you nearly crumble when his hand retreats from his pocket and only increases the pressure of the vibrations, but his strong arms catch you, your hands scrabbling at the expensive fabric of his suit. “charles, please.”

“please what, mon cher?” you pout, moaning when the intensity is increased again.

“please, just fuck me. feels so good, just need you. need you inside of me.”

“there you go, beautiful. i knew you could ask nicely.” charles’s voice is smoother than honey to your ears, and when he helps you back up against the wall and pushes your legs around his shoulders, his knees gently hitting the floor, you feel yourself get impossibly wetter. 

“charles, please. just-” your pleas are silenced when he runs his fingers along your panty-covered slit, a keening breath making you throw your head back. 

“so wet for me, cherie. have you been like this all night?” his eyes flick up to your face and you can't help the whimper that crawls its way out of your throat. 

“yes, all night. now, please, just let me cum.”

“such pretty words. i really should, huh?” with this, he pulls your soaked panties down your legs and slips them off your ankles and stuffs them into his pocket. as gently as he can, he pulls the vibe out of you and cleans it off with one of the soft white towels rolled into cylinders on the countertop next to him. “hold this for me?” he offers you the toy wrapped in the towel, which you accept with shaking hands. as soon as the toy is in your hands, he dives into your heat, his tongue expertly navigating you like the back of his hand. you immediately fight the moan that almost wrenches its way from your throat, but despite your best efforts, a whine escapes. 

“fuck, feels so good, baby, please, don’t stop,” you moan, suddenly not caring about your noise level or the fact that several of ferrari’s sponsors for the upcoming racing season are just outside the bathroom door. despite your lack of mind for your reputation, charles pulls away, making you whine at the loss of contact, but his mouth is quickly replaced by his fingers gently pressing at your entrance, coating them with as much of your slick as he can before pressing them into you. the sudden intrusion makes your back arch and a gasp fill your lungs, but charles quickly tuts at you. 

“gotta stay quiet for me, baby. don’t want everybody out there hearing how good i’m making you feel.” when your walls flutter around him, a movement so miniscule it could be passed off as his imagination, the corners of his lips quirk up into a smirk. “or,” he continues, pressing a delicate kiss to your clit, to which your hand not holding your vibrator to card through his hair and pull, “is that exactly what you want? for every single person outside that door to know who’s making you scream in the bathroom of a black tie event? for them to know that i’m the only person who can make you feel like this? make you sound like this?”

“i’ll stay quiet, baby, now please-” you cut yourself off with another whine because charles has leaned forward again, captured your clit between his lips, and sucks. “oh, fuck, charles. please, please don’t stop. feels so good.” you’re embarrassingly close to cumming from the short time he’s been eating you out and fucking his fingers into you, but you could care less. after being on the edge all night, you whine as you tighten and your back arches off of the wall, your right leg still propped up on charles’ shoulder. “charles, ‘m close. ‘m so close.” your fingers tighten in his hair, the pain on his scalp making him moan into your cunt, and the vibrations from his voice are the last thing you need before you’re sent over the edge, clapping a hand over your own mouth to stop your breathy moans from echoing too loudly off of the tile walls of the bathroom. he continues eating you out through your orgasm, and you almost have to push him off before he’s satisfied. “holy…”

“fuck,” he finishes, making you laugh. when you look down, charles looks absolutely wrecked. his hair is a mess from where your fingers ran through it, his eyes are droopy, pupils wide with lust, and his face from his nose down is covered in a mixture of your cum and his saliva. you almost take out your phone to take a photo of him, but you’re snapped out of your afterglow when someone pounds at the door. 

your stomach drops, and charles blanches. you mouth a silent “fuck” to him, but somehow relief fills your body when you hear a familiar voice on the other side of the door. “oi, cabrón, open the door. it’s time you make even on that bet.”

HEEEEHEHEHEHE this one was so fun to write! let me know if i should do a part two!

[katyawriteswhump]

Steddie Wiggly Wednesday🪱🐛🪱🐛

Thanks for the tag @wheneverfeasible and @medusapelagia and possibly some other lovely moots. Sorry, I move in ice ages!

CW for original character death. Don't worry, Steddie and all canon characters are safe.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Steve has an older brother, Cal, less than two years older than him. He loves his brother and hates his guts because Cal is stupidly perfect.

Not just grade A student perfect and state championship tennis finals perfect. Cal is so ridiculously, effortlessly nice. He floats above the High School popularity monster on some cotton-candy cloud of perfection—so high above all the shit that he can play Dungeons and Dragons with Eddie ‘freakshow’ Munson every week and walk away untarnished.

Steve’s pretty popular too, but he’s laboring for it the hard way— hanging with the ‘right’ crowd, dating the ‘mean’ girls. He’s sweating it out on the basketball court, barely scraping through the classes that Cal aced. Of course, his parents are pissed, and he knows he’ll never emerge from Cal’s perfect shadow.  Cal secretly gave Steve all his old class notes to copy and offered to coach him, but Jesus, who’s gotten time for that shit?

So yeah, Steve hates Cal, and he loves him too. When Steve figures he might be bi, he’s in need of his brother like never before, though can’t find the right words. He’s got a dumb crush on Tommy H and… Ugh, it’s not like he can tell Tommy, and even when Steve gets over his crush, nobody in Hawkins is gonna accept that kind of shit.

Naturally, his perfect brother sees when Steve stops hanging with Tommy and the others. Sees when Steve stops dating. On that spring night, when it’s only the two of them and a sixpack at home by the pool, Cal knows. Even before Steve starts to inarticulately explain how confused and screwed up he is. Even before Steve tells Cal he’s over Tommy, but he’s definitely queer, and faking being the Steve Harrington the world wants to see is killing him. He’s failing his classes, and Hargrove is humiliating him on the basketball court. Steve’s got a totally messed up crush on Billy too, even though the guy treats him like dirt. Steve is scared Billy knows, and… Crap, why is his life such a mess?

He cries. He hates himself for it, but he cries, and it’s okay, because he’s got his brother, and he hates how perfect Cal is. But Cal is always gonna be there, and he’ll always have his back.

Cal is off to MIT in the fall. So yeah, that’s gonna suck, until… Cal doesn’t go. Instead, he gets sick.

Really sick. Steve’s worried, but this is Cal, he’s perfect. Everyone says that Cal is gonna ‘beat it.’ As if, because he’s a good person, he’s going to somehow exert his magic over whatever fucked-up biology is destroying his body.

Cal has three months to live.

Eddie is devastated. It was supposed to be Cal’s final campaign before he ascended to the higher plane of an Ivy League school. Now it’s simply final.

Suddenly, Eddie is moving Hellfire Club to Hawkins General Hospital, and then hosting it at the fucking Harrington’s. Nobody is shrieking or dousing him in Holy Water, and it would be hilarious, if it wasn’t so horrible.  Obviously, Eddie is determined to make it the greatest, most metal campaign he’s ever conducted. He’s crumbling inside. They all are. These are the last days he gets to share with the guy from the ‘right’ side of the rails who looked at Eddie and saw Eddie, rather than the con-supremo-spawn of Al Munson.

Cal’s a-hole kid brother, Steve, starts hovering around when they’re playing. For obvious reasons. He needs to cling to every last moment with Cal, too. Lurking in dark corners, Steve starts staring at Eddie so hard it gets creepy. Eddie knows he’s pretty magnetic when he’s in full-on DM mode, but this is weird. Obviously, Steve must want ‘in,’ so Eddie reluctantly offers to help him draw up a character card, and… shock horror.

Steve Harrington isn’t that much of an a-hole. Now, it’s just the two of them, laughing and sketching and conjuring with D and D ideas, and Steve’s oddly jumpy. He doesn’t seem to be able to look Eddie in the eye, keeps staring at Eddie’s mouth, then touching his own, licking his lips. Eddie is… confused. Steve Harrington is cute. He is also supposed to be a repellent jock—not this guy who swerves maniacally between hilariously bitchy sniping and self-effacing over-apologies.

Once Eddie gets Steve going in Hellfire, Steve is stupidly over-confident, almost back to dumbass-Steve-the-jock. Eddie has a billion chances to slaughter him, and he refrains. For Cal.

Oh, and because, Eddie’s got a stupid crush on his friend’s kid brother. He figures out there is barely a year age gap between him and Steve, though. Cal was old in his year group, and Eddie one of the younger ones.

Still irrelevant. Steve is straight. Eddie’s 100% sure. Well, he would be, if Steve would stop blushing and glancing away whenever Eddie seeks eye contact.

Then Cal calls Eddie one night, asks him to come over. Cal’s getting sicker, so he detonates the bombshell.

You’d be perfect for my brother, man.

What the fuck?

Okay, so he doesn’t press Cal for details. It’s implied that Steve is into guys, but… Woah! Too much! His sick friend wants him to date his younger brother? Like, a dying wish? Yeah, Eddie likes Steve, and now he’s starting to read Steve’s feelings into the way Steve acts around him. But no way are they perfect for each other.

He gives it a shot.

On their first date, Eddie takes Steve to a dive bar Cal used to love more that it deserved, and where Eddie sometimes performs with Corroded Coffin. They make out around the back, against some dingy brick wall. They’re slightly drunk, and the kiss is wet and messy, and they’re stupid happy and then both so stupid sad that they stop trying not to be. They can’t kiss away the pain, but they can kiss. They cry so hard.

Eddie has found another Harrington brother who actually sees him. It occurs to him, more gradually, that he’s the only person in the world, other than Cal, who actually sees Steve.

What the fuck AGAIN?

And then he’s the only person left in the world who sees Steve, and besides Wayne, Steve is the only person left who really sees Eddie.

Steve loves Cal so much, and he hates him. He was so fucking perfect that he couldn’t possibly ditch his little brother without setting him up with a soulmate.

🪱🐛🪱🐛

My ST fic on AO3

no pressure tags: @mugloversonly @tea42 @fuctacles @queenie-ofthe-void

[misshoneyimhome]

What’s up, buttercups! 🌸

Chapter twelve… and things are definitely getting a little more heated, huh? 😏 I feel like we’re finally stepping into a space where we can turn the tension up and play with a bit more spice—so I’m super curious to know what you think 🙈

Just a quick note: I’m currently going through some personal stuff and juggling a busy work schedule, so if I’m a little slower with updates or replies, please know I’m doing my best and still pouring as much heart as I can into this story 💕

As always, thank you for being here. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Happy reading! 💕

Tropes & warnings: inexperienced!reader x Auston Matthews, meet cute, strangers to friends, fake relationship, language, 18+ smut: tied up, oral sex (f receiving), edging, fingering, unprotected penetrative vaginal sex, cumshot

Word count: 7.8k Chapter one ; Chapter two ; Chapter three ; Chapter four ; Chapter five ; Chapter six ; Chapter seven ; Chapter eight ; Chapter nine; Chapter ten ; Chapter eleven

➼｡ﾟ

Chapter twelve: a royal game of chess*

::

“Dearest Toronto Readers,”

A royal game is underway—and we’ve all been invited to watch.

Last night, beneath the glittering chandeliers of the gala, our King and Queen moved across the ballroom like seasoned players on a chessboard. Each glance, each lingering touch, calculated and deliberate. Together, they silenced the rumours. For now.

But behind every flawless performance is a motive. And behind every motive? A truth begging to be uncovered. Are they reigniting something real—or just preserving the illusion long enough to win the crowd back?

The Queen looked radiant. The King looked smitten. And yet, the whispers still echo: are they lovers, or just loyal allies in a crumbling campaign?

What we are witnessing is no simple romance—it’s a royal game of strategy.

White strikes first. And checkmate is coming.

The only question that remains: will it be a win or a loss for the crown?

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer”

_

Saturday –

The sun filtered through your curtains like it had no respect for boundaries—soft and golden, spilling across your bedroom in a mocking warmth that made everything feel deceptively calm. It painted gold across your sheets, lit your skin with something too gentle, too romantic for the weight tangled in your limbs.

There was a heaviness in your bones that sleep hadn’t touched. You blinked against the light. Your mouth was dry. Your body sore in that deep, secret kind of way—your thighs still trembling faintly, the inside of your elbow tender where his grip had lingered a second too long. Your skin prickled with the memory of his touch. Your throat? Dry from all the words you hadn’t said. From the ones you had swallowed down instead of speaking out loud.

But it wasn’t just lust curling under your skin this morning. It was confusion. Shame. And something worse—something quieter and harder to admit. That slow-blooming ache behind your ribs, that whispering feeling you’d tried so hard to ignore.

Because last night hadn’t been fake. Or performative. You hadn’t been playing a role. You had wanted it. Wanted him. Badly. Recklessly.

And now, the only thing worse than what you’d done… was how much you wanted to do it again.

Your hand groped through the tangle of sheets until it found your phone, half-buried near the edge of the mattress. The screen was lit with unread messages, notifications blinking like warning lights—like your life was trying to catch up to you faster than you could catch your breath.

Of course, the group chat was already on fire.

Jess: okay WHAT THE FUCK is going on. i thought you guys were like??? cooling off??

Maya: was last night cooling off?? bc from where i was standing it looked VERY on.

Jess: pls tell me the gala wasn’t just for PR or do i need to text Auston and ask myself??

You let your head fall back into the pillow with a groan, phone hovering above your face, the screen too bright and your thoughts too messy. You typed. Deleted. Tried again. Your fingers felt clumsy.

You: idk what’s going on. it’s a mess. we didn’t plan any of that.

The typing dots appeared immediately.

Jess: you okay tho? like actually okay? or are we breaking into his condo later?

Maya: say the word and I’ll bring wine and a crowbar.

You smiled. Barely. But it was something. You loved them. Even when everything else felt like quicksand, they were solid ground.

You: I’m fine. Just tired. It’s a lot.

You peeled yourself out of bed with the kind of sluggish determination reserved for emotional hangovers. Limbs heavy, skin too sensitive, like you’d been rubbed raw inside and out. You padded into the kitchen in an oversized tee, arms crossed over your stomach like you were trying to hold yourself together.

The apartment was still. The hum of the fridge. The faint creak of floorboards underfoot. The way the light cut across the floor in stripes. You didn’t bother turning on music or the TV. Silence felt deserved.

You moved through the morning like muscle memory had taken over: toast in the toaster, egg cracked into the pan. The sizzle felt too loud in the stillness. Coffee brewed behind you, and the smell was grounding—dark, bitter, real. You wrapped your hands around your chipped constellation mug like it might warm more than your palms.

And there he was.

Auston.

The memory crashed into you, sudden and vivid. His hands. His mouth. The way he’d whispered your name like it meant something. The tension in his jaw before he kissed you. The way he looked at you like he didn’t just want you—he needed you. The hallway. The silence that followed. The taste of him still blooming on your lips like an aftershock.

You shook the thought off and forced yourself to eat. Tiny bites. A sip of coffee. Another. But you could still feel it—last night clinging to you like a second skin.

And then your phone buzzed again.

Mum calling…

You considered letting it ring out. But something told you that wouldn’t make anything easier, so you answered on the third ring.

“Hi, sweetheart!” she chirped, far too bright. The tone that always meant she was about to bulldoze through whatever objection you had lined up. “Just checking—do you want the roast, or should I do salmon instead? Auston strikes me as a roast man…”

“Mum,” you interrupted, already wincing. “We might need to… rain-check dinner.”

A beat. Then her voice sharpened with suspicion. “Rain check? Why?”

You exhaled slowly, setting your half-eaten toast down. “Things with Auston aren’t as great as they might seem. It’s… complicated.”

There was another pause. Longer this time.

“Oh,” she said finally. “So, what?”

“What do you mean so what?” you snapped, the words tumbling out too fast.

“I’m not cancelling dinner,” she said flatly. “Your siblings are finally coming. Do you know how rare that is?”

“Mum—”

“Don’t ‘Mum’ me. I’ve already cleaned the good glasses.”

You rubbed a hand down your face, eyes closed. “Can we just wait until this makes more sense?”

“Nonsense,” she replied. Her tone was calm. Cutting. Unyielding. “If he’s going to be in your life, he should be in our lives. And if he’s not? Well… then we’ll know, won’t we?”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. The call just ended with a half-hearted “don’t stress the Yorkshire pudding,” though you both knew she already had.

Sink or swim. And you were already half under.

And not even two minutes later, another message appeared.

Stephanie: Hey, girl! Game tonight and the girls are going. You in? Also… you looked fucking hot last night.

You read it. Twice. A third time.

You wanted to say no. Wanted to crawl back into bed, bury yourself under the duvet, cry about things you weren’t supposed to feel. Put on a movie and forget. Let the world spin without you.

But something tugged. A thread that hadn’t snapped yet. Something small and stubborn and painfully alive.

You didn’t respond immediately.

You just stood frozen in the kitchen ten minutes later, one hand around your mug, the other bracing against the edge of the counter like it could keep you upright. The silence buzzed louder than any playlist could’ve. You were surrounded—by noise, by pressure, by people asking for answers you didn’t have. A mother who wouldn’t bend. Friends who were trying to understand. Stephanie, already halfway out the door in heels and a grin.

And then, the one you couldn’t pin down.

Your phone buzzed again.

Auston: You coming tonight?

The question was simple. Innocent, even. But the weight behind it pressed into your ribs like a thumb.

You stared.

You: not sure. Steph just asked.

His reply was instant.

Auston: Kay.

So simple. So casual.

But your fingers hovered over the screen. Your breath caught. Your heart did that flutter again—that impossible stutter that had nothing to do with PR deadlines and everything to do with the way his voice had broken last night. The way he’d touched you like he’d needed the confirmation that you were still his to reach for.

And maybe this wasn’t about optics anymore. Maybe it never had been.

Maybe this was just about you. And him. And the dangerous, unstoppable thing blooming between you despite everything it could ruin.

And maybe… just maybe… you weren’t ready to walk away.

Not if he wasn’t.

_

The media scrum was already forming by the time Auston stepped onto the familiar white Leafs logo in the centre of the dressing room. He moved like he always did—purposeful, confident, with the easy poise of someone who had been here before and knew exactly how to play the game.

Reporters had their phones raised, recorders clipped to lanyards, some already half-shouting questions as he approached the backdrop. He tugged on the collar of his quarter-zip, gave a subtle nod to the team’s media manager, and settled into position like a seasoned actor hitting his mark.

This part had always been the easiest.

He liked the spotlight. Never said it aloud, but he did. He liked the control of it—the ritual. The way a question could be spun. The way he could shut it all down with a single smirk or shrug or “we’ll take it one game at a time.”

Today was no different. In fact, it was almost too quiet.

“Everyone’s looking forward to the game, Auston—feel like the chemistry’s starting to click again?”

“Can you talk about what’s been working so well on the power play?”

“Four wins within two weeks—what’s changed for the group?”

Nothing about you. Nothing about the photo. Nothing about the gala or the rumour mill or the very public, very dramatic week he’d just come out of.

Auston answered smoothly, firing off practiced lines without hesitation. Something about momentum. About the boys gelling. About staying focused.

Not one question veered off course.

The plan was working.

The Benchwarmer had done its job—redirected the public eye with just enough flair to turn chaos into curiosity. The media, once frothing at the mouth for personal drama, had backed off. No one wanted to be the one who poked the bear. Not when the Ice King had returned to form on the ice. Not when a single wrong question could get them frozen out.

Auston’s eyes scanned the group, already calculating the end of the session.

He liked this version of control.

But as he offered one final answer and stepped away from the microphones, something still tugged at him. A weight beneath the surface. A restlessness.

Because even if no one else was asking about you, even if the cameras weren’t zooming in anymore—he was still thinking about you. About the way you looked last night. 

He shook it off. Tugged at his sleeve. Made his way toward the tunnel where the rink waited, quiet and cold.

The media hadn’t asked. But that didn’t mean the questions weren’t there. And right now, Auston had more of them than ever.

_

The lights inside the arena always felt different on Saturdays. Sharper. Hungrier. Like the whole building was conspiring to expose every flicker of emotion, every lingering glance, every thread pulled too tight. The electricity didn’t just buzz—it pulsed. And tonight, it felt like the walls themselves knew that secrets were sitting close to the glass.

You slid into your seat beside Stephanie in the players’ wives and girlfriends’ section, your movements smooth and automatic—like muscle memory had taken the wheel while your mind kept looping through the past twenty-four hours. You moved with quiet grace, the kind born of long practice: spine straight, ankle crossed, coat draped over your shoulders like soft armour. Your outfit was intentional—tailored jeans, a plum knit that hugged just enough, a glossed lip touched with defiance. Not for attention. For control.

Control was your anchor tonight. Not charm, not flirtation, not even the polished version of yourself you’d once wielded like a blade. Just poise. Just enough polish to say: I’m here. I belong. I’m not breaking.

Stephanie nudged you lightly in greeting, her smile easy and warm in that effortless way she had. Within seconds, she was chatting behind you—boots admired, weekend plans traded. The laughter that followed sparkled like champagne. It felt comforting.

And you had to admit—being around them felt natural. The girls. The partners. The inside jokes and quiet eyerolls. The practiced grace with which they moved through wins and losses, spotlight, and silence. Somewhere along the way, you’d found a rhythm with them. A softness. It didn’t erase the storm inside you, but it dulled the noise.

So, you smiled. You leaned in when someone cracked a joke. You nodded along to talk of spa days and travel plans. And for a moment—just a breath—it felt like you belonged.

Then the lights dimmed.

The crowd stirred, like the air had changed direction. The low murmur thickened into something denser. Charged.

And then—he appeared.

Auston fucking Matthews.

The way he emerged from the tunnel was almost cinematic. Helmet down, shoulders rolled back, body language casual in that way only born from absolute confidence. Stick resting in one hand like a sword he didn’t need to brandish to be feared. His stride purposeful, his gaze focused—but you knew him well enough to spot the shift. The way his jaw clenched a second too long. The flicker of his eyes mid-shift in momentum. The subtle tilt of his chin, searching.

And then he found you.

Just a glance. Brief. Surgical. But it cut clean.

You didn’t smile. You didn’t offer anything. You kept your lips soft, your expression unreadable.

And in return, he gave you the same. It was all part of the performance now. The grand illusion.

The game kicked off with that same intense pace that always came with rivalry nights. Leafs versus Oilers. A little extra tension in every check, every whistle. Each near miss elicited sharp gasps from the crowd, and you clapped when it was expected, leaned into Stephanie’s shoulder when she let out a half-laugh, half-groan after a puck clanged off the post. But your attention? It never really strayed.

Like always, Auston was magnetic on the ice—commanding the play with that effortless rhythm that made him impossible not to watch. There was a precision to his movement tonight that bordered on aggressive, but it wasn’t careless. It was sharp. Focused. Like the game had sunk under his skin and he was playing not just for points, but for something more.

Still, not once did he look up again. Not for almost two periods. Not until the second intermission.

He skated by the glass near your section with deliberate ease, his stick resting lazily against his shoulder, posture unbothered. And yet, when his eyes finally flicked up—just for the briefest moment—they landed on you like he’d been holding his breath the entire game. Like you were the exhale.

And for one suspended heartbeat, you saw it. Not the distant, calculated mask he wore for the world. Not the cool indifference you’d both agreed to perform. No, this glance was something molten. Heavy with everything you weren’t allowed to name.

And then it was gone.

Buried. Erased. Like it had never existed.

The third period came and went in a blur of adrenaline and tension, and when the final buzzer blared, signalling a narrow 4–3 win for the Leafs, the entire section erupted around you—clapping, cheering, standing. Stephanie let out a squeal, bouncing beside you with glee.

“God, I hate how nerve wracking a one-goal win is,” she said, eyes wide with a mix of stress and excitement.

You nodded, forced a smile—small but convincing—and tucked a stray hair behind your ear, not trusting your voice to say much more. You didn’t know if it was the adrenaline of the crowd or just the echo of that look he’d given you, but your hands were trembling slightly where they gripped your coat.

And then Stephanie turned toward you with that knowing grin, like she already had the next move planned. “Come down with us?”

You blinked. “Where?”

“Locker room hallway. Just for a second before we head out. Everyone’ll be there and Micthy really wants to say hi.”

You hesitated for a moment, but then you surprisingly found yourself nodding, and followed her.

The hallways backstage was colder than you remembered—sterile and echoing, fluorescent light bouncing off too-clean floors. Players’ family members, friends, team staff and media techs milled about with the kind of casual buzz that always accompanied a win. The air was thick with sweat and body spray and the faint static of proximity to fame.

You kept your smile pleasant, your posture smooth. Exchanged hellos. Shook hands. Someone handed you a glass of sparkling water and you took it even though your stomach felt too tight to drink. You engaged in a brief chat with one of the MLSE community liaisons about the upcoming charity skate. You asked the right questions. You said the right things.

Right up until you didn’t. Because that’s when you heard it.

A voice you recognised immediately, even though it had only ever spoken to you in the most passive-aggressive tones. The brunette from yesterday morning in Auston’s doorway. 

“I mean, come on. Why would he even bother with her?” she said, laughter simmering beneath her words like poison. “She’s… forgettable. Just some glorified assistant playing dress-up and craving a good fuck. Cute enough in daylight, I guess. But honestly? She’s just using him.”

The words landed like splinters—small, sharp, precise.

You didn’t move. Didn’t turn. But your entire spine pulled taut like a drawn wire, shoulders locking into place. A single glance to Stephanie confirmed that she’d heard it too. Her jaw clenched, but she stayed rooted beside you.

But then you heard another voice. Deeper. Closer. Sharper.

“Why do you have to be so mean?”

It was Auston. His voice didn’t rise, but somehow it silenced the entire hallway.

“Just because she’s actually kind,” he continued, each word slicing clean. “She’s smart, and she actually gives a shit about people. She shows up. She works her ass off. She’s funny. And she’s been through a lot of shit.”

You felt your breath catch—held it like a secret against your ribs.

“She’s not just a good fuck.” He let that line sit for a beat—long enough to stun. “She’s everything you’re not.”

The silence that followed was dense. Immoveable.

So, when you finally turned your head—slowly, carefully—your eyes found him immediately. Standing just past the doorway, one glove still on, hair damp and curling at the ends, cheeks flushed from effort and fury. His chest rose and fell in sharp exhales, but his eyes… they were soft. And locked entirely on you.

And for one long, staggering moment, it was just you and him in that hallway. Everything else—the brunette, the girls, the media staff still folding cords—faded into a blur of white noise.

You didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to. A moment suspended in glass.

And then, without another word, you turned back to Stephanie. Smiled. Said something light about traffic. Let your voice float above the tension like nothing had happened at all.

If you looked up the word mess in a dictionary, it might as well have come with a photo gallery of your face beside Auston’s, each of you frozen mid-glare, mid-glance, mid-smirk. Nobody knew what was going on anymore. Not the team. Not the coaches. Not even the women in the wives and girlfriends’ section who usually had everything figured out before it even happened.

Stephanie had stared at you with the same look a dog gives a squirrel crossing the street—confused, mildly betrayed, and a little worried you were about to do something reckless.

Because you didn’t fold into Auston’s arms after the win.

You didn’t beam with pride. Didn’t run into his orbit like some predictable PR storyline. You clapped. Smiled. Said something about traffic. And that was that.

But the confusion wasn’t theirs to untangle. It was yours. And his. And the tangle had only grown tighter with every move he’d made.

Because Auston didn’t play chess like a strategist. He moved with instincts.

First, he’d asked for space. Backed away just enough to make you question if he even remembered what the plan was anymore. Then—jealousy. Cold and sudden, when you’d been spotted with Ryan, and Auston had looked at you like you’d betrayed some silent oath.

Third move? A brunette. Beautiful. Model type. Seen leaving his condo the next morning, looking smug and satisfied like she knew the mess she’d walked into.

Fourth—cold again.

Fifth, he’d shown up and dropped the words in love like it meant something. 

Sixth, he’d ruined you in a hallway. With just his mouth. Like he was trying to etch his name into every nerve ending you had.

Then he froze again. Like he hadn’t just shattered every part of your carefully constructed control.

And now tonight, he’d defended you like you were the only thing in the world worth protecting. His voice calm. Sharp and deadly. Like he meant every single syllable. 

It was too much. Too inconsistent. Too everything.

And so, before you could let the night end, before you lost your nerve and let things slip back into the murky silence of maybe-later and we’ll-talk-soon, you sought him out.

The carpark was quiet, save for the low hum of a nearby floodlight and the occasional distant thud of equipment being loaded out. He was standing by his car all alone, half-lit, half-shadowed, tugging at the sleeves of his jacket like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. He looked up the second he heard your footsteps.

You stopped a few feet from him.

“We need to do something,” you said, your voice calm and steady. “Because this isn’t working. My mum still thinks you’re coming to dinner. She hasn’t caved.”

Auston exhaled, jaw tensing. “So, tell her I’m not.”

“That’s not the point,” you snapped. “The point is you keep doing this—One minute you want distance, the next you’re showing up talking about love and dropping to your knees like we’re… something.”

He crossed his arms. “And you? You haven’t exactly been consistent either. Besides, that was the point, right? For you and your career.”

You laughed once—low and bitter. “Oh, come on. You get to defend me in front of your fling like you’re my boyfriend and then go back to ignoring me? It’s not just about my career, Auston… it’s about me and how you treat me.”

His brows furrowed, but he didn’t speak.

“You act like you don’t care,” you continued, “about any of it. The media. The sex… I’ve given you parts of myself… I’ve trusted you. But you just act like you don’t give a fuck... and then you say things like falling in love. You give me a fucking orgasm in a hallway, and then you ghost me the next day like it didn’t happen.”

He flinched slightly at that.

You stepped forward, heart pounding. “And tonight… what the fuck was that? What am I supposed to do with that? You stood up for me like I mattered. And now you’re just standing here again—silent.”

“I don’t know what to say,” he finally said, voice low. Honest.

“Of course, you don’t,” you breathed, tired. “Because you only know how to speak when it’s about hockey. Or when you want to get a girl into bed.”

That one landed.

His lips parted slightly, like he might defend himself. But nothing came out.

You shook your head. “You want to know the worst part?”

He looked at you.

“I was actually starting to like you…”

_

“A post-game sighting. A locker room hallway turned battlefield.

Tonight’s Leafs win wasn’t the only headline—our Ice King made waves off the ice, too. Witnesses caught a tense exchange with the brunette (yes, the one last seen leaving his condo) and a not-so-subtle jab aimed at our Queen.

But what froze the hallway? The King’s reply.

Sharp. Unfiltered. And dare we say… protective.

Was it love or loyalty? 

Matthews wasn’t alone—Marner, Nylander, and Rielly were all in view. No one interrupted. Though Mitch reportedly smirked like a man who already knows the ending.

So, we ask: was this chivalry… or checkmate? - The Benchwarmer”

_

The moment you stepped inside your apartment, you had to pause. Just breathe.

You shut the door behind you with a soft thud, pressing your back against it like it was the only thing keeping you upright. The weight of the night pressed down hard—your lashes still damp with fury, your fingers curled into your palms like they were trying to hold something back. The air in the room felt too still, like even the walls were holding their breath.

You tilted your head back against the wood, eyes fluttering shut as your heartbeat pounded behind your ribs like a second voice screaming through the silence.

Because one minute, you’d been arguing with Auston in the carpark—half-conversation, half-meltdown—and the next, his hands were gripping your waist and he’d pushed you back against his car like it was instinct. Like he couldn’t not touch you.

His mouth had crashed into yours—urgent, unrelenting—biting the words right out of your mouth before you could finish them. And you’d let him. At first.

You’d kissed him back like you needed it to survive. Like maybe it was the only way to finish the sentences that always got stuck between you. There had been teeth, heat, the scrape of his hand against your spine as he tried to pull you impossibly closer. Your hands had twisted in the collar of his coat before shoving hard at his chest.

“Don’t,” you’d snapped, breath ragged. “Don’t act like that fixes anything.”

He hadn’t listened. Not at first.

Instead, Auston had leaned in again, grabbing your wrist when you tried to turn away. You’d pushed back. He held his ground. 

But you’d shoved harder. And that time, you’d broken free, and you walked away. You didn’t look back.

But now, standing here in the quiet of your apartment, your pulse still thundered like the fight was unfinished. Like it hadn’t really ended at all.

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself, your voice shaking as you finally peeled your coat from your shoulders and let it drop to the floor.

But you barely had time to take a step further into your apartment before there was a knock. A single, deliberate knock making you freeze.

Slowly, you turn around like the air had thickened around your legs. You hesitated at the door, heart threatening to claw out of your chest as you opened it.

Auston.

He stood there without a word. No expression. No smirk. No flicker of anger or apology. His face was blank—cool, unreadable—the kind of calm that came just before a storm.

He didn’t say anything, and you didn’t either.

Not right away.

The silence between you crackled once more, electric and impossible to ignore. And when you didn’t shut the door… when you didn’t slam it in his face or tell him to piss off… he stepped forward. Into your space. Into your home. Into your line of fire.

You took a step back instinctively, heart tripping over itself.

The eye contact never broke.

He closed the door behind him, slow and sure, the soft click of the lock a sound that echoed far louder than it should have.

“Aus—” you tried, your voice catching halfway up your throat.

But he cut you off.

“Think you can play me like that?” he said, voice low and steady. Too calm. “Yell at me in a fucking parking lot, say your piece, and then just walk away like you won?”

You stared at him; throat tight. “I didn’t win anything. That wasn’t—”

“No,” he interrupted again, stepping closer, his presence eating up the space between you with unrelenting precision. “No more talking.”

Your breath hitched. He was close. So close you could smell the sweat still clinging to his skin beneath the faint hint of his cologne. So, close his energy was wrapping around you like a net—tangible, thick, impossible to escape.

You opened your mouth again, but nothing came out.

And that made Auston smile. Just the faintest twitch of his lips. Not smug. Not cruel. Just controlled.

He leaned in, slowly, his mouth brushing the edge of your ear, breath hot and unforgiving.

“Guess I need to remind you who’s in charge,” he murmured, making you shiver.

Because he wasn’t asking. He was stating. 

Your heart stuttered as he pulled back, his eyes raking over your face with the kind of hunger that wasn’t just physical—it was emotional. Raw. Ravenous. He looked at you like he could see right through the mask, past the coat of control you’d worn all night, and into the core of whatever it was you were trying so desperately not to feel.

But still… he didn’t touch you. Not yet at least.

He just stood there—so close the heat radiating off his body made your skin tighten, so still it made your breath catch. Waiting. Watching. Letting the silence stretch like a thread between you, delicate and dangerous.

He was waiting for your next move.

For you to back down. To run. To say something sharp and sarcastic that might give you back the upper hand. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

Your eyes flickered away for just a second, instinct kicking in to look anywhere but at him.

But he wasn’t having it.

Auston’s hand came up, not rough, but firm. He cupped your jaw, tilting your face back toward him with a kind of command that didn’t ask—it told.

“Look at me,” he said, low and steady.

You did.

“You wanted me to teach you about sex,” he continued, voice dark and even, like every word was laid with velvet and steel. “About pleasure. About what it means to actually feel something.”

He leaned in, just enough for your noses to almost touch.

“Well…” His eyes flicked to your mouth. “Here’s a lesson for you.”

Your breath hitched, lips parting, but before you could say anything—before you could even form the thought to speak—he kissed you.

Hard.

Not hesitant or questioning, but with intent. Like he’d made up his mind the moment you walked away in the carpark.

His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threaded through your hair as he tilted your face toward him, deepening the kiss until it stole every ounce of breath from your lungs. The other hand found your waist, pulling you in so tightly your chests collided, your curves fitting into the sharp lines of him like they’d been carved that way—like you were meant to bend around him.

Your fingers fisted the fabric of his shirt, not to pull him closer—he was already impossibly close—but just to hold on. To ground yourself against something solid. Because that was what he felt like. Solid. Unmovable. Unrelenting.

You didn’t know how long he kissed you like that—just that at some point, between the short gasps and the quiet, desperate noises leaving your throat, he started to walk you backward. And you let him.

You let him back you through the small corridor of your apartment, bumping into the edge of the couch, knocking your hip into the counter, never once breaking the kiss. You let him reach down, lift you by your thighs, and carry you toward your room like he already knew the way.

By the time your back hit the edge of the mattress, he wasn’t even winded. He looked at you like a man possessed—eyes dark, chest heaving just slightly, his own shirt half off, hair a mess from where you’d tugged it.

But he still wasn’t done.

Not even close.

He looked around briefly—calculating, focused—and then his eyes landed on the belt looped through his dress trousers. He pulled it free in one swift, fluid motion, the sound of leather sliding against fabric sharp in the quiet.

“Lie down,” he said, voice low and calm. “Arms above your head.”

You did.

Not because he asked. But because you wanted to.

He climbed onto the bed after you, trailing his fingers up your stomach as he pushed your shirt further until it bunched just above your eyes, soft cotton darkening your vision and exposing your body all at once. You were left in nothing but your lacy knickers, bare and waiting beneath him. Your arms extended above your head, and he took the belt and looped it around your wrists—firm but not cruel, enough to bind you, not break you.

“Keep them there,” he murmured. 

And then—he began.

It started slow. Almost sweet. A brush of his lips against your hipbone, the trail of his fingers skimming down your ribs. Then his mouth—hot and wet and patient—moving across your stomach, your thighs, avoiding the places that ached the most with infuriating precision.

He teased you like he had all the time in the world. Like every moan from your lips was a victory. He kissed and nipped, tongue dragging across the edge of your panties, lips pressing against your inner thigh in a way that felt reverent and maddening.

“So, you didn’t like it when I turned you into a mess with just my mouth…” he whispered in a low growl. 

When his fingers finally touched you—just the pad of one dragging over the damp lace—you whimpered, hips twitching upward.

But he didn’t give in. He pulled away.

Again.

And again.

“Fuck, Auston,” you gasped, tugging at your restraints instinctively, hips lifting in search of something—anything.

But he just chuckled darkly, eyes full of wicked amusement.

“You’re not ready yet,” he said, breath warm against your core. “Not until you ask.”

He slid your knickers off slowly, delicately, like unwrapping something too precious to rush. And then he looked up at you, mouth hovering just inches from where you needed him most.

“Tell me what you want,” he said, voice like gravel.

You squirmed. “You.”

He didn’t move.

“Tell me what you need.”

“You,” you whispered, breathless. “Please.”

A moment of silence. 

“Good girl…” he murmured, and then he dove in.

His tongue was ruthless, confident, tracing over you with devastating precision. He mapped your body like he already knew the coordinates, like he’d studied every reaction and memorised each one. When you moaned his name, his grip on your thighs tightened. When you bucked your hips, he pinned them down, flattening his tongue and dragging it in tight, deliberate strokes until you were shaking.

And just when you were teetering on the edge—his fingers joined in.

The stretch, the pressure, the pace—it was almost too much. He worked you open slowly, carefully, coaxing every sound from your throat, every plea from your lips. He edged you with expert cruelty, pulling back each time you reached that cliff, only to bring you right back with his mouth and his hands and that dark, endless look in his eyes.

You begged. You swore. You writhed beneath him, wrists straining against the belt, head thrown back as wave after wave of pleasure built, crested, and then retreated just before you could tip over the edge.

He was playing you like a pawn—but he knew the board, and he knew the game. In just a matter of weeks, Auston had learned your body better than you knew it yourself. Every gasp. Every twitch. Every unspoken plea. He read you like strategy—like instinct.

He pulled back slowly, leaving you flushed and breathless, your body humming from the teasing, your chest rising and falling like you’d just run a marathon.

Without a word, he stood to undress completely—methodically, purposefully. The way he shed each layer felt deliberate, like he was shedding the tension too, the confusion, the noise. Just him now. Just you. Nothing else in the room but heat.

“You think you can be good for me?” he murmured, voice low and rough as he knelt back between your thighs, one hand stroking along his own length, slow and firm.

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Your mouth was open, but no words came.

He smirked, just a little—dark and knowing. “Mm. I think I need a little more than that.”

And then he slid your leg up, anchoring your ankle to his shoulder, his body pressing forward until you felt the weight of him aligned with you—poised, patient, inevitable.

He entered you slowly. Torturously slow. Like he wanted you to feel every inch, every inch of him reclaiming every inch of you.

Your breath caught as he pressed into you, inch by inch, his grip tightening just slightly on your thigh where it rested against his shoulder. There was nothing rushed about it—not in the way his hips moved, not in the way his eyes stayed locked on your face, watching every stutter of breath, every flicker of emotion.

It was unbearable. It was perfect.

The first full thrust made your back arch off the mattress, a low, involuntary sound tumbling from your throat. He was deep—so deep it felt like something inside you was being rewritten.

He held there for a moment. Let the weight of it settle. Let you feel him. All of him.

And then he moved.

He started slow—almost maddeningly so—like he was still studying you, testing the limits of what you could take. Each roll of his hips was deliberate, calculated, as though he was savouring the way your body reacted to him. The slight arch of your spine, the shallow gasp that slipped through your lips, the tremble in your thighs that betrayed just how badly you needed more.

But it didn’t last.

The composure frayed, the control slipped, and then he was moving—harder, faster—each thrust hitting deeper, rougher, more purposeful. It was like something cracked inside him. Some last thread of restraint unravelled, and in its place came this need. This hunger. He wasn’t just fucking you—he was claiming you. Showing you exactly what happened when you pushed him. When you walked away.

When you made him feel.

Still, there was nothing cruel in it. It wasn’t about hurting you—it was about making you feel everything. Every inch. Every intention. Every flicker of emotion he still didn’t have the words to say.

One of Auston’s hands slid up to your throat, his palm pressing lightly, thumb brushing the underside of your jaw in a gesture that was more grounding than it was dominant. The other roamed—up your thigh, grazing your hipbone, mapping the soft curve of your waist, until he settled just beneath your breasts, his fingers spread wide to anchor you beneath him.

The belt still held your wrists above your head, tight but not painful, leather biting faintly into your skin. Your shirt was bunched just high enough to obscure your vision, forcing you to feel everything else more acutely. The slick sound of skin on skin. The pant of his breath. The way his name tumbled out of your mouth like a vow and a curse in one.

“Fuck,” he groaned against your neck, his voice fraying at the edges. “You drive me fucking insane.”

You moaned in response, helpless beneath him, the tension inside you building so tightly it felt like your body might snap.

“You think I’m cold,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as his rhythm slowed—just slightly, just enough to make you ache. “You think I don’t feel any of this.” His hips rolled into you hard, and you cried out—“does this feel fucking empty to you?”

You couldn’t answer. Couldn’t even breathe properly.

“I see the way you look at me,” Auston grit out, voice rough and laced with something darker. “Like you want me and hate me all at once.”

His hand slid back up to your throat, tilting your face with gentle but firm insistence, even though the bunched fabric still blocked your sight. You couldn’t see him—but you felt him. Felt the heat of his breath, the intensity of his stare searing into you like a brand.

“You can’t fucking hide from me,” he growled.

Then suddenly, he pulled out.

You gasped at the loss, your body twitching from the emptiness, your thighs trembling. His hands let go of your throat and leg, lowering it from his shoulder as he leaned back—just far enough to watch the sight of you spread out, wrecked, and waiting. He inhaled sharply, gaze raking over you like you were something holy and ruined all at once.

“Look at you,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “Such a fucking gorgeous mess.”

And then he was back—thrusting into you again, hard and sure, without hesitation. Your entire body jolted, a ragged sound tearing from your throat.

“This pussy,” he snarled against your ear, his rhythm brutal, “belongs to me.”

You sobbed his name, legs nearly giving out from beneath you as he moved with punishing purpose, one hand gripping your hip to hold you in place, the other slipping between your legs.

“Aus—” you cried. “I’m gonna—”

He stilled inside you instantly, pulling back just enough to make you sob again.

“You’re gonna come,” he growled, voice sharp, “when I say. Not before.”

A smack landed against your inner thigh—sharp, just enough to sting—and you gasped, pleasure and frustration knotting tight in your belly.

Then he fucked you again—harder, deeper—until the bed creaked beneath both of your weight, the air thick with ragged breaths and low curses. When his fingers circled your clit again, there was no more teasing. Just relentless pressure and perfect timing.

You were unravelling fast, every nerve ending alight.

“Are you close?” he rasped, barely holding on.

“Yes,” you whimpered, “Yes—God, yes—please—”

“Then come for me,” he commanded, the words like a spark against the tinder.

And you did.

You broke for him. Completely.

Your whole body arched, pleasure surging through your veins like wildfire. You called his name with a desperation that wasn’t just a simple release—it was a wave coming crashing over you.

Auston groaned, hips jerking once, twice—and then he pulled out, his body trembling as he jerked himself onto the skin of your lower stomach, coming undone above you.

He stayed there for a heartbeat longer—kneeling between your thighs, chest heaving, his head dipped low as though he needed a second to collect himself. The air between you was thick, pulsing with heat and something far more dangerous than lust.

His hands, which had just moments ago commanded and claimed you, softened as they moved to your wrists. Fingers steady, he untied the belt slowly.

He didn’t say a word.

Instead, he brought your hands to his mouth without a sound—kissed the inside of your left wrist first, slow, and steady, then moved to the right. 

Your breath hitched, chest rising and falling unevenly, a rush of warmth stinging your throat as you tried to ground yourself in the silence. 

You slid your shirt completely off and sat up slowly—still blinking away the blur from where the fabric had been tugged over your eyes. Your vision sharpened, found him in the low light.

He was watching you.

Not staring. Not inspecting. Just… watching. 

You didn’t say anything. Neither did he.

Eventually, you stood and padded barefoot to the bathroom, the air still thick with heat and something unspoken. You cleaned yourself up in silence, running warm water over your hands, dabbing gently at your skin with a cloth. You caught your reflection in the mirror—hair messy, lips kiss-bruised, eyes tired but alert.

You barely recognised yourself. But not in a bad way.

When you stepped back into the bedroom, you found him lying there like it was the most natural thing in the world—stretched out in your sheets, bare from the waist up, one arm draped across the pillow where your head would go. His eyes found you instantly.

He had made himself comfortable. He hadn’t even asked permission. He didn’t need to.

You crawled back into bed without a word. Slid beneath the sheets and let your body settle into the space beside his. Close, but not touching.

Still, the quietly wrapped around you both like a second blanket—thick and tentative, but not heavy.

And then, in that gravel-soft voice of his, he spoke. Low.

“We’ll join the dinner tomorrow with your family.”

There was no question in it. No hesitation. Just a statement. A certainty.

You turned your head toward him, startled by the confidence in his tone.

He didn’t look at you when he said it. Just stared up at the ceiling like he already knew this was the next step. Like it had been coming all along.

You didn’t argue. Didn’t ask why or what this meant or how the hell you were supposed to explain it to your mother.

You just breathed. Slowly. Deeply. Then let your eyes close.

_

“Dearest Toronto Readers,

Moves have been made. Pieces shifted. The scoreboard may show a win, but this city knows better—this is the calm before the storm.

Our Queen arrived at Saturday’s game dressed not for show, but for war. Polished, poised, unreadable. She sat among the royals like she belonged there—because she does. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, but it didn’t need to. Presence is power, and last night, she made hers count.

And the King? He dominated. On the ice, yes—but off it, too. Not with charm, not with subtlety, but with something sharper: a defence so direct, so cutting, that the whole hallway seemed to still. A warning disguised as chivalry. A claim disguised as concern.

But was it love? Or something more dangerous—pride? Possession? A desire to maintain control of the narrative he once walked away from?

For now, the Queen holds her ground. But this isn’t the end—it’s a pause before the play resumes. And while the Ice King may have protected his Queen this time, we’re left wondering:

Is he back for good… or just buying time?

Every fairytale ends in fire or triumph, and black moves next.

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer”

[polakina]

what they're like in bed

call of duty headcanons #2

hc masterlist // masterlist

replayed the mw2 and mw3 campaign...not feeling so happy so here's a happy hc to keep us going :)

rating: explicit

-

doting. loving. a fucking masterpiece

is there anything else i need to say? nah im kidding i have a LOT i could say on this man

loves to undress you, first of all. just taking your clothes off slowly gets him all tiled up before he's even began

is a gentleman at heart. loves to please you before thinking about himself

will spend hours between your thighs, taking his sweet ass time until you're crumbling under his touch

has a thing for teasing until you're too sensitive to be touched anymore. giving undying attention to your clit and then watching you whimper and squirm away from him only makes him smirk

but he does give in eventually, peppering kisses over your body, whispering how good you are for him

his favourite place to fuck you is the bedroom, of course. the man loves comfort more than anything, for the both of you

his second favourite place is his office desk on base. he flies you down to his base every couple of weekends since you don't work those days and neither does he

he's fucked you on that desk in every position you can think, but he loves bending you over it, your face pressed against the solid wooden surface

you've been caught once before, with Ghost knocking on the door to deliver some paperwork sent over by Laswell. Ghost could never make eye contact with you after that, nor Price for a few weeks

you grabbed the hat off his desk once when you were riding him, setting it on top of your head and grinning when his eyes widened

he never actually admitted it, but fuck he loved when you wore his hat. and only his hat

you wear it sometimes when you go out with him, just grabbing it before you leave the house. when he sees you in the bar dancing while wearing it, he can't ignore the throbbing in his pants

not into public sex, but doesn't see it as counting if it's not technically sex

so he'll tease you, edge you, play with you while you're out with friends or out with the 141. his hands will find their way under your dress while you're sat at the bar or at the restaurant table, inching higher up your thigh until he's pushed your panties aside, toying with your cunt while you try and keep composure

this man is filled to the brim with stress and you're more than willing for him to use you to let it all out

sometimes he doesn't even say anything before grabbing you roughly, but somehow tenderly at the same time. you see it in his eyes the second he walks through the door, his mask tossed on the entrance table as he strides to you

loves to manhandle you. picking you up with ease and laying you on the bed, holding your wrists above your head with only one hand keeping them firmly locked against the wall or mattress or wherever he decided to take you

the one thing that turns him on more than anything is hearing your moans. your lips against his ear as he rams into you at an ungodly pace, whimpering and mewling with each thrust, crying out his name in pleasure

favourite position to fuck you in is cowgirl. seeing your face, seeing your mouth fall open as he fucks up into you, your nails digging into his shoulders as your head falls back

into ass play. only found this out accidentally when things got seriously heated one night when you were making out on his couch. his hands drifted to your ass, grabbing at slapping the supple flesh until one of his fingers drifted over the taut sensitive spot between your cheeks

you'd gasped out of surprise, but you let him proceed, and he saw the flicker of excitement glaze over your eyes when he started teasing your hole

since then, he knew how quickly he could make you cum with both your holes filled

loves giving aftercare, but loves it just as much when he's given it

the man needs some care too, he's a fragile soul at heart

after sex, he's cuddly. he likes to lie in bed and wait for you to come over to him, breathing in the scent of your shampoo when you bury your head in his chest

rarely tells you he loves you, but has done it on a few occasions when he's fucked you. usually on the odd time he fucks you slow, passionately

he does this when he knows he's got time on his hands. or when he's not going to see you for a few months at a time

big into cockwarming when you guys take your time. will take a few seconds, or even minutes between thrusts just so he can stay inside you longer, feeling you clench around him

fucks like a rabbit

let me explain

is down for it whenever

text him while he's out grocery shopping saying you miss him, prepare to be doing the other half of the shop tomorrow because he's paying for whatever's in the cart and leaving immediately

he's busy working in his home office and you walk in asking how long he's going to take before he's done, he's immediately saving the half finished reports and running around the desk to you

whenever you stay on base with him, he's never ashamed to stay in bed a little later with you. has been late to morning meetings on more than one occasion

more submissive than you are

loves to be at your every command. listens to you with such direct focus, everything else drowns out in his ears

begs

a lot

begs for you to touch him, to fuck him, to do anything

turns into a mess when you suck him off

mumbling praises and pleads with your mouth around his cock, words escaping him and reducing the man to a whimpering puddle

loves pulling your hair while he grinds into you. whether you're bent over the kitchen counter or on laid flat on the bed or the back of his truck (happened one time and you both agreed it was not the best idea for either of you)

is such a softie when you're in bed together. likes to make it fun, even though it could be a serious moment. makes you laugh when his cock is buried deep inside you

hate sex is how the two of you started dating. you were giving gaz a little too much attention on base for his liking, and when he confronted you about it, your argument concluded with you both tangled in his sheets

so, piss him off, and expect the night to end in the exact same way. he takes control when his emotions take over

such a fucking softie

experienced as hell

was such a playboy when he was younger, and brought that experience to adulthood when he was with you

likes to watch you try and make him jealous, finds it amusing because he knows exactly who you're going home with that night. but make no mistake he's going to make you beg for it once you're in the bedroom. you don't get to cum that easily

obsessed with shower sex

one arm wrapped around your middle as he plows you from behind, your legs shaking as you struggle to hold your own weight up, your body pressed against the tiles

whenever you're on a work call with a shitty manager or even shittier client, he's spun your office chair around on more than one occasion and knelt between your spread legs

likes to take a risk, sees the reward being so much more satisfying when it's during a compromising or risky situation

will eat you out when you're on the phone or in a work meeting on your laptop, loves to see you try and keep composure while he fucks you with his tongue

eating you out is one of his favourite things to do, even in the beginning when you repeatedly told him he didn't have to do it so often because he never got any enjoyment out of it, he always assured you he loved to do it

he did. it turned him on so much to be buried between your thighs at any point during the day, he didn't care

slow and sensual when he fucks

tells you he loves you when he's deep inside you

loves when you mark his back with your nails. feels proud to have those scratches on his back for days to come

pleasures himself when he's away at base, on the phone to you while you're laid in bed, talking him through it

loves to be given direction during sex, wants to better himself any way to make you feel even better

but loves to give you orders

almost came on the spot once when you jokingly called him 'sir'

you brought that into the bedroom after a few months and it turns him almost animalistic

obsessed with marking you. your neck, your tits, your thighs. he leans away when he's done to admire his work, revelling in the bruises and blemishes marked into your skin

[anarcowboy]

Boiling it down to any single factor is a mistake when it's a soup of dogshit

--there was substantial decrease in voter turnout between 2020 and 2024. more voters than 2016 tho, and still a popular loss. Woof. 3rd party votes did not make a difference and even if all "other", Stein, AND libertarian votes went to Harris she'd still lose (libertarian pulled from Trump more than Harris)

--running to the right of Trump on various issues normalized conservative policy, so those who they attempted to court could get the same results from Trump without having to vote blue

--those they attempted to court are also, yes, a lot of racists and misogynists. The Black vote was almost unanimously in favor of Harris. Just wildly strong polling. The Latino/Latina vote was split, men leaned Trump and women leaned Harris. The white vote skewed pretty strongly to Trump. Failing to ever address white supremacy and instead court it will never make a woman of color appeal to these people, no matter how "lethal military strong border" fascist you try to be

--Harris's campaign ruthlessly belittled her constituents. They refused to speak with people, canceled meetings, mocked them, and tried to make a fool of people in mourning, scared, devastated, yet still ready to vote for her if she gave them crumbs. She didn't. The campaign turned its back, like Clinton did before, on people willing to vote for her if she put any effort into getting their votes. But like in 2016, Schumer was confident you could replace blue collar dems with suburban republicans. it failed. twice. The whole campaign trail has been littered with contempt for their own base. Harris didn't even speak at her own rally last night and sent everyone home.

--2020 has shifted us into an era of extremism and desperation. People are angry. People are scared. Multiple people have tried to kill trump in the last few months. Many voted for him not because they like him but because they have contempt for Harris, whether reasonable or bigoted varies across the board.

--Even as min wage hikes pass, abortion passes, social security expansion passes, and "radical" politicians like Omar and Tlaib win re-elections in the same exact places Harris loses, anchors blame progressive policy for her downfall. Even now, the marginalized people used as pawns by her campaign are being thrown to the wolves for her loss.

--The dems never learn from a loss. They are a center-right party with substantial hatred for progressive policy even as progressive policy polls as wildly popular among the masses. They loathe their base, while Republicans are willing to kiss the asses of theirs.

--Trump will fail to meet all the expectations placed on him, and his base will become angry. Then rather than ever run a platform to help working class americans, marginalized people in substantial and lasting ways, the dems will court those disillusioned by Trump, until they fail to wow them next time and a new fascist runs.

--The two party system does not work, especially when both are right-wing. Trump is not the sole issue and never was. He's convenient cover. Biden is too weak to do anything, then Trump will be too powerful to stop. It repeats forever. But this dance is crumbling for people. Something is breaking and people are tired of it. We have always been a fascist nation that is rapidly becoming more fascist, and unless something truly radical on the left becomes a possibility for dems that can grab the masses and inspire hope--like say, Bernie Sanders--then we are doomed to slide ever right-ward forever until collapse. But hey, the dems certainly wouldn't sabotage and kill a movement like Bernie's, right?

To sum up: we are in a fucked up time where we refuse to reckon with our past and white supremacy and instead cater to it and then have the nerve to be shocked it bites you once again. In politics and in life you cannot appeal to white supremacy, it is a snake to defeat.

Organize, find solidarity, fight, and god while you need to stop bending over for your enemy, you'd maybe be inclined to learn from them, understand them, and realize the way to defeating them has always been with force and a "fuck you I'm here to stay" attitude.

Electoral politics are never the beginning or end of what politics is. The presidential election is even a very small part of that process. Support community work protecting the people neither party will, support organizations working to undo the harm of these parties, and stop seeing this as a team sport with black and white villains and heroes where one side of a corrupt system represents the good guys and so surely their loss can only come from Evil Forces and not a system performing as designed.

[eternalmomentss]

What are your favorite individual things about all the BH members?

Thanks anon, for making me yap about the Hells because I miss them dearly and they mean everything to me. I just went with like - character traits. I don't know if this is what you meant but here I go anyways...

For Imogen I would have to say it's that good mix of her ambition, determination and perseverance. Sometimes that can result in stubbornness but it's just something I find very endearing. And while she is fierce when it comes to what she wants, she never loses her gentle nature. Like, one of my favourite things about her entire arc is the sheer determination she displayed when it came to saving her mom, man...it was amazing to see. And it payed off! A strong and complicated mother-daughter relationship like that is so important to me. Also - you know, with perseverence I also mean being dehumanized and having to listen to vessel-arguments all the time and yet still remaining kind and on track and being willing to do whatever it takes, even though she was questioning the gods.

For Laudna I think it's her persistent happiness and kind heart. I am currently reading What Doesn't Break and honestly, if Laudna actually hated the world and felt the need to watch it burn down I wouldn't blame her. But she doesn't. She sees the good in so many things, be it a situation or just a single person and it's very inspiring. She sees the whimsy and fun in the smallest moments and that's hard to do even for people who haven't even gone through 0.1% of what she lived through.

For Fearne, obviously her absolute unfiltered wildness. This girl gives no fucks, she is unbothered and flawless and thriving and i love it for her. But also - it's gentleness. She seems aloof, sometimes detached (obviously because of her fey nature), but everything about her screams safety to me. It's really like Imogen says, she is like a flame that attracks moths. Like a beacon of hope.

For Dorian it's a very endearing mix of tenderness and selflessness. That man is made 100% out of pure affection and love and everything he ever does is for the people around him. He cares so, so much about others and the world and the way he keeps encouraging people and pointing out their own strengths to them is just so sweet and important to me (The entire war-camp moments, "I always did." "It's just us." "I love my mom too." etc, you name it). Though sometimes it makes me want to whack some self-confidence and self-appreciation into him too.

Orym obviously has this simple calm kindness about him. He tries his very best to keep the world good and generous and it was honestly so heartbreaking to see it all crumble beneath his feet as the stress spiralled out of control. He tried to hold onto one single safe outcome so stubbornly because he was scared to destroy the goodness in the world and honestly it's rare to find such simple, serious motivations in media these days. (I have much to say about Orym's internal biases about justice and what's good and bad btw, but that is a whole other story.)

Chetney is probably one of the most loyal little assholes you could ever find. One of my favourite Chetney moments i still when he snapped and spoke up about the injustice that comes with shipping them all to the front lines of the fight no questions asked. That little gnome was pissed, because how dare people talk down to his crew that went through hell and back and continues to walk through fire and get zero credit for it. Come correct or get the fuck corrected!

For FCG obviously it's selflessness. A lot of the time throughout the campaign they were very direct and sometimes even blunt in their therapy approach but at the end of the day, they really just always wanted to understand their friends and themselves and offer a realitsic and unique solution to their problems. Their inner thoughts during the Otohan fight about how the crew made them feel whole and alive brings it all to its peak.

Ashton always has this deep and intense understanding of the small, broken people and their pain. They are reckless and rude and brash but god are they careful. When they handle something fragile, they handle it with care. They always ask questions, offer help or even just give it without even asking. They always protect everyone. From early on when they ran back to save Dorian and FCG from falling depris, to gently talking to someone whose mind has been tempered with and adjusting to their needs, assuring Laudna "she isn't going to take you" during the Delilah encounter, to dragging Imogen out of Predathos while breaking apart at the edges. They understand and they care.

Braius is obviously a bit harder, so uhm I have to say forgiveness maybe. When he found out about Jester he heard her out and found the strength to forgive her too. Actually that might be one of the most surprising things about him. Good on you, cow! Go draw those dicks now!

Thanks for asking, this is just another excuse to be annoying.

[lennadanvers]

Hi hey hello! I'm still alive! I accidentally took some time off(? Anyway, I miss Ex-husband!Eddie, so here you have some (kinda sad) backstory to the relationship. I present to you *drumroll*...

Ex-husband!Eddie who still has nightmares about your first break-up, many years ago! When you two still lived in Hawkins. When you both left crying. The first time you broke his heart.

You'd been dating for quite some time by then. When he thinks about this, it seems to him you both were really young. That he was very immature.

But, then again, Eddie thinks that about himself now, and it's been years. And he lost you again, somehow.

There had been a disscusion. It was probably about the future. Most things wrong in his life involved that. Planning, hoping, being ready to move on. The only way he's ever been able to plan is when playing DM. The only hope he's ever allowed himself is you being happy with him there to see it. At least that worked out, more or less. About being ready to move on, well...

Of course, Eddie didn't see things this way back then. Then, it felt like you were leaving with or without him. Like you could leave, and he coulnd't. Like you had a life waiting for you, and all he had were impossible dreams and an always lingering fight for survival. Like you were taking all he had- his heart- away from Hawkins.

Eddie knows it was wrong, now, looking back- but his secret is that he knew it was wrong back then too. Still, he allowed himself to hurt you. He laughed sarcastically. He called himself a freak, to save you the effort. Eddie admitted that he knew you were too kind to tell the truth: he was some sort of adventure, a way to feel good about yourself by making someone else happy. He didn't say the word charity- it hit too close to home- but you heard it anyway.

You also heard him calling you a people pleaser. Someone without a backbone. He'd been your safe space- he knew, even if he didn't believe it- and it turned out he saw you like everyone else did.

You didn't yell. Eddie was used to noise. To metal through the speakers, to the cars in the trailer park, to the screams in his parent's kitchen. But he was terrified of silence.

You looked at him. He was used to people avoiding his eyes, to the uncomfortable faces. Yours was just empty. As empty as a face wet with tears can be. And you were looking at him, at his eyes, at his soul.

And you left.

He did the same. Eddie had had many people walk out of his life, and fuck if he was going to let you do that too. No, this time he was leaving. Enough of waiting for the people he loved to come back to him.

It didn't matter, because you didn't go back. You put everything he had left at your house and put it in a box. Your college dorm room wasn't big enough for all the things you loved anyway. You filled the box- even put in his favorite sweets, the ones you had bought for when he went to say goodbye to the bus station- and left it home.

He only found out about it when your mom, after leaving you to your brand new university life, dropped it off by his trailer.

Eddie swears nightmares are box-shaped.

By then, it was too late. He likes to think that the way he had to grovel to get your new phone number was heroic. It may not have saved you- you never needed saving-, but it saved him.

It took him a week to call. He kept lifting the phone and crying. Eddie still has the notebook where he planned, mid campaign, what he was going to say.

It didn't matter. When he finally managed to call, he crumbled. You said "Hello?", and you sounded happy. He practically sobbed a "Hi".

You went silent. Eddie heard you whispering on the other side of the line, and a female voice saying she wasn't expecting any calls.

"Who is this?"

He hung up the phone.

Years later, after you got married, you joked he had a phobia of calling you on the phone. He doesn't think it's a joke. Eddie still wakes up after hearing his nightmares ask him "Who is this?".

[writingdisposal]

Vox is soooo fucking hot dude

Vox as a regular romantic interest is pretty bad already, but as a yandere? He is insufferable. Of course, he will keep an eye on you wherever you go, even before you really meet him. I don't think Vox would use his powers to achieve his goal of pursuing you. It seems more that he would use it as a "last-didge" effort to secure you, but for that to occur Vox would have to be incompetent. He is anything but that.

You will fall for his charisma, his smooth voice that is so addicting to listen to, especially when he compliments you so well every chance he gets. Vox will make sure, whatever you see of him is nothing, but absolute perfection. Any show you watch starring him will be subtly be about how good of a partner he would be. A cook show where Vox creates your favourite meals. Another show talking about famous celebrities' relationships where Vox occasionally sprinkles in a "I don't know about you folks, but I can't imagine doing something like that!" when the relationship has some sort of drama to it.

I also imagine he would force some sort of meeting, assuming there is zero connection he and the other Vees have to you. Maybe he will make some low-life try robbing you and the 'oh-so' charming TV host Hell can't get enough of is there to save you. Maybe he just 'randomly' finds you sleeping in some alleyway, down on your luck, and he graciously offers you a job at his company. Or maybe he does an interview on Hell's population to see what their opinion is on the newest Voxtech.

Either way this man will find a way and have you fall for him. For the first few months he will even act the part of a loving and supportive partner. Over time though, Vox will change.

As usual Vox was monitoring the viewing charts as well as the money generated from the shows. Even though he was focused, he heard the elevator bringing someone up. No need to look, Vox knew who wanted to visit. "Hello babe," he said, still tapping away on the keyboard, "missed me that much, heh?" Giggling you hugged him from behind, "I can't hide anything from you, can I?" "No, you can't," Vox turned to you, kissing up your arm, "Mind helping me out a little here? I'm really tensed up and need some relaxing." You blush, pushing him back a little.

You wanted to tell him no, but he pulled you back with enough force to make you fall on his chair. He kissed your cheek. "Come on sweetheart, I've always been so good to you," Vox reminded you, static echoes scratchng his voice, "You should be more loving, you know." He was right. He was always so sweet to you and its time to repay the kindness. Even though it doesn't feel right, you will give in. You always will until it feels normal.

Once he knows you won't leave anymore, Vox will have outbursts in front of you. And because you are so used to his hot and cold attitude, you will find a weird mix of fear and attractiveness in his screams. Especially outbursts involving Alastor will be scary. Sometimes Vox forgets the position he is in and get rough with you. Of course, in instances like these he will apologise afterwards, but that might be the only times where the picture had so carefully painted crumbles.

If you ever decide to leave, Vox will know and put measurements to prevent it. It will be relatively successful, but once you're gone, Vox uses every available resource to secure you back. He will call everything just regular quarrel between lovers. The only sanctuary you might find is in the Hazbin Hotel, but this will lead to a smear campaign by Vox, so your stay is going to be questioned frequently.

Your chances of getting away from Vox are low and he will make sure, you realise he will forever be the better option in this godforsaken place, so be sweet and go to him willingly before he forces you to go.

[deadpool15]

This is fucking bullshit. All of this is so stupid. I’m gonna kick his fucking ass. Me and Woo-Jin had been kinda on and off for about two years, at first it was fine because I wasn’t ready to settle down so it was all fun and games. But now I’ve been trying to slowly show him I’m ready for the real thing. Full on relationship, our parents had already met, with my parents practically becoming friends for life with his after agreeing to endorse his father’s campaign. His mother constantly telling me how much of a good daughter I am, and how she views me as her own.

Everything was slowly coming together until that fucking teacher arrived. Her nasty disgusting elderly ass decides to fuck my man. It seems like no one in this school realized Woo-Jin belonged to me. Not even him, well not yet. Storming through the school with my shirt slightly unbuttoned from the top leaving my sloppy tie on display just how I like it. It’s a style. Skirts were always a hit or miss for me, seemed no one in Korea understood the struggles of having a fat ass. My knee-high socks had fallen down slightly revealing a few of my tattoos. Shall I say baddest bitch at school for you. Yes, yes indeed.

I make my way up to our special classroom where I had told the man himself to meet me. Walking in the room I notice He-ra in there as well. Now before you say it that’s my bitch. Love her to death. But now isn’t the time for her and her constant back talk that I know she will give without explanation. “He-ra I love you so much babe, but I’m about to embarrass the fuck outta your bestie right now so can you please give us a minute. And I mean go to class not wait outside and listen this time.” She turns to me grabbing her things, “I wasn’t gonna listen to your guys speak, last time I tried to ease drop on you two felt like I was listening to unfiltered porn.”

Watching her walk out the room I see him sitting there smirking. “Stop that you make me sick. You piece of shit.” He motions for me to come closer as I was standing up still. Dropping my bag on the floor, I sit in the chair next to him only for him to grab my arm and push me into his lap. “What’s wrong, Cherie? And what are you gonna embarrass me with?” Pushing his hands that had landed on my hips off me, I sit firmly. Feeling the tension in the room. “When where u gonna tell me you are into old broke bitches now, huh? Miss me that much? You have your sluts acting out of order around me.” He tries to speak up but I place my finger on his plump lips. Causing him to slowly wrap his lips around my finger.

Wow can’t believe he is playing dirty right now. Two can play that game. “Guess your skills are getting old, it’s not working for you anymore is that it baby, is that why you are fucking old women now.” He removes his lips from my fingers and starts leaving kisses on my neck. Open-mouthed kisses are my fucking weakness and he knows this. “What did she say to you?” For a minute I couldn’t respond. I was lying through my teeth this entire time his skills always worked but I knew so did mine. “Kept trying to speak to me saying how worried she was about me since she has noticed me and you barely talk. She wanted to offer me a moment to let out my emotional side and show her how impacted I am now that you have moved on to someone new apparently. Messy ass teacher.”

Hearing this he stopped, “aww are you jealous, baby?” Seeing the mischievous smile on his amazing face almost made me crumble until I started to lean in for him to show off something I know would get me victory. “Is that a fucking hickey? Cherie you’re not serious right, no marks we talked about that. You have shitty guys leaving marks on your body to remember them.” He gripped my neck once he realized I was smiling, “Oo I didn’t even notice he was mainly focused on my bottom half when he did that, guess that’s my bad.” Chuckling and making my way to move off of his lap until he gripped my hips keeping me firmly placed glued to him. “No more of that, me and you that’s it. You only need me, how many times do I have to fuck you to prove that huh? Do you hate walking, is that it?”

“You’re sleeping around too, asshole. Get that dog under control and maybe I’ll let you have me. Any way you want it baby.” He smiles at me before unlocking his phone and pressing the camera icon. “What are you doing, sending her photos Woo-Jin? Wow you truly don’t give a fuck about me do you. Such an asshole.” He wipes my tears before leaning in to kiss me softly. “Cherie I like you so much, actually I fucking love you. Everything about you. I’m not sending her pictures, two options ok. I could text her it’s over or I could bend you over this chair and fuck you til you’re begging me to stop and send it to her. But, something tells me you like the second option more.”

Leaning closer to bite his ear, I whisper, “how many rounds can you give me before next class, huh pretty boy?” He grabs my breast, before kissing my ear. “My next course doesn’t start until 4, it’s currently 1. Which means we have to test this theory, are you up for it beautiful?” Unbuttoning his shirt, while spreading my hands across his chest I nod. “Always up for a challenge, pretty boy. But can you handle it. I don’t move at that same pace as you’re used to now. Since you have downgraded to fucking the retirement community. Can you even keep up?” He pulls me closer kissing my hands. “Can I, handle you? Baby you’re not leaving this room til you tap out.”

“Say less, pretty boy.”

[girldriveroscar]

there's something so awfully delicious about mclarens we win as a team dynamic bc every week has become landoscar competing to sit in zak's mclaren branded cuck chair. one driver gets to fall on the sword dying the good death while the other is crowned for bullshit wins that they're forced to act grateful for— while we pretend its not all pathetically manufactured!!!! waiting patiently for mclarens house of cards to crumble because there is no we in winning. oh my god zak brown holding his two drivers by the fucking nape asking them to smile and resist their egos when this! whole! sport! is about having the ego to decide you want it more than everyone!!! you deserve it more than everyone!!!!!.

something about lando watching the wdc crawl away, incapable of celebrating oscar ahead of him, realizing oscar is ruthless once the top step is available. questioning whether he leaves oscar behind or take him with, questioning if oscar would feed him to the dogs if given the chance. oscar being on the cusp of a championship campaign himself, somehow coming out of all these scenarios as mclarens martyr even when he's the one crossing the line first

just everything about the way landos felt in debt to oscar since brazil when maximizing points should be all that mattered to him in the first place, this pretense of teammateship that's so unbecoming of two dominant drivers better suited with the likes of a second driver in the seat beside them. and god! the humiliation of your second driver choosing to be second because there was no real fight to begin with. and yet they're leveling each other out so often that the exact scene has happened twice and will probably happen countless times again? oh my god genuinely just rebrand to cuckula one if have to watch landos masturbatory pat on the back celebrations while oscar has his fifth ruined orgasm in a row bro what is this.

something something sport as a metaphor for sex, landos wins becoming something perverse in the way his climaxes only come at the downfall of oscar. the way lando needs to revel in that dirty selfish pride in order to become a champion and he so wants to but theres a chorus of voyeurs telling him he's sick for it... something about lando being a man eater til its oscar smiling at him Like that, nudging him to just drive knowing one of them must be sacrificed for the others glory.. yeaaaa of course there's rpf in this do u think im a rookie...

[thisuserislilsilly]

Summary. That's it..I have made a piece where the Emperor ain't a prick (or such a prick). Wow

TW: Angst, grimdakrness, excerpt of Godblight at the end dissing Guilliman

Goblin tag squad: @druidwolf21 @cardinalcanis @meervalv0

@finchly-tintinnabulation @artemisareia @beckyninja

@gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @incrediblethirst @ilisteria

@nomlakie @pages-and-stages @lovingthewildlife

(fuck it everyone from the ds server that I remember in this shieeet)

"Malcador"

Your name is honey on my lips, the sweetness of the past happiness and joys clinging to each and every syllable of your name. How I wish I could go back to the first moment on the first age where I uttered that word, that name; I never knew of it, never reflected how much weight that moment had carried until...this.

"Mal....ca.....dor"

It slurs out in a heavy sigh, with a weariness my throat has never been used to, not even on the Unification Wars with the fiercest of chieftains did I stutter and felt so much weaker than how I feel now. Perhaps it is because I have battled against the forces of the Gods and Lupercal together, but I know the truth; it is because what my eyes see before me are merely the ashes of what you have turned to, Malcador. It is the remains of your personal victory, of your selfless action towards me, not even Mankind was worth that effort for you, oh no, the look upon your face when we parted ways was that of a friend, not of the Hero and administrator of the Imperium.

"Mal....ca.....dor"

So this was our dream after all, it all came crashing down before us like chess pieces being taken out by the whims of the Gods and destiny time and time again.

Oh friend…how I wish to have been here to say I'm sorry, how I wished things were like when I first met you; to have an ounce of such power would had made this rebellion crumble within an instant of our gazes locking to our foes, to the tools that turned against the biggest plan Terra and humanity itself had ever been part of. Malcador, I miss you now, more than the years apart, more than in the long campaigns waged against the Lord's of the Old Terra. More than what I had missed you when I went on to fight Horus.

What will become of me? Who would it be the blessed one to hear my words, to address my worries, to tend to the nightmares of failures and caress my soul as the one that has been with me all of my time on this universe?

Malcador Hero of the Imperium Sigilite who watches all Dear friend whom I loved like a brother. Rest. Please rest. You have done more than any muses could had ever done to my soul and my body.

As those who serve me sit me here, on the throne where we once schemed the best for mankind, I remember you. I remember the empire we forged together and, if death has me on this moment, know that I loved you.

"Mal...."

The pain slithers to the back of my head, it makes every cell of my being tremble like it never has before; it feeds upon me, of my power, it injects the tubes charged with psyker power and electricity running down my whole body as I feel first my legs failing and then all of my very essence following suit. I feel the sensations and orders trapped in my mind, no longer able to control the body in which I inhabited until a few mere seconds ago.

Rogal is weeping, the one that I could always count in being resilient and strong is no more than a child crying over his parent. I do not know why it moves me, even so slightly, but it does; although no more than it does to not being able to utter your name one last time, to defy the Gods in one attempt to spit in their faces as I lay here immobilized.

"M....a....."

I fail to move my lips, my tongue. I have become a statue, a shell, a pointless utter sack of meat adorned in a throne that was supposed to rise our species beyond the confines of our minds and our feeble projects, now being the final nail in this sarcophagus. Ironic how I perfected it for others, not of the likes of you, my friend, or me yet we both ended up being the ones to carry the burden.

I want to say your name, Malcador. Just once.

Just before my mind is too far gone as well.

I want to keep remembering our days of glory.

I...

I am scared of losing myself.

And you in a sea of whispers and hushed words around me.

Time is already slipping by as I no longer can discern what is happening at this moment and what is ten years or ten millennia into the future of that moment.

Don't make me forget. I don't want to be alone anymore.

I want to die like you Malcador.

I don't need to see-

"My son," "Thirteen," "Lord of Ultramar." "Saviour." "Hope." "Failure." "Disappointment." "Liar." "Thief." "Betrayer." "Guilliman."

[solar-sunnyside-up]

I am a teenager. This wouldn’t be that big of a deal if I wasn’t worried I’ll never anything but. I seriously feel like I’m watching the entire world crumble around me. It doesn’t seem like any system in society actually works, there has been a new crisis seemingly every five or so years of my life, with the last four years just being a long chain of constant crises, the world seems like it’s actively worsening and I haven’t even been given the chance to participate in it.

I live in the Netherlands, which is currently going to shit bc some assholes thought it was a good idea to vote for the guy with a campaign plan that was rendered impossible by our literal bill of rights/ constitution (both works, I guess). Like, a bunch of his ideas are just straight up illegal. It took about ten or so months for our cabinet to form and the only things they’ve done by now is try to bypass our democratically chosen representatives, fuck over non-cow based farmers and ruin the livelihoods of refugees. I honestly don’t think that I’ll ever get to be a functional adult with the way the world is going. The 2020s are not a fun time to go through major developmental changes socially and gain class consciousness. I guess this is a bit of a whiny statement. I feel so childish complaining about how the world is getting scary when there’s definitely worse places to be a teen in than the cozy, peaceful Netherlands. However I’m also a literal child, so I think I’m allowed to have a few ‘childish’ fears. I think that we all get to be whiny by now, with how millennials, Gen Z and Gen Alpha are all getting fucked over by the decades of extreme capitalism.

I wanna start this by saying no matter where you are in the world, it's pretty shit. Yea of course there's war zones and famines and stuff all over but that doesn't diminish your pain and suffering. Globally there is this swing to fascism. And a constant denial of the reality we as a younger generation are forced to live with. You have never lived in a world with normal Temps, without a war being shoved down your throat, with the economy on your side. That alone allows you to feel gross and dispair.

It's like how we have over 80 yrs of proof that UBI works and eliminates poverty and yet??? Not a single country to my knowledge has actually gone with it. It's so frustrating watching the answer sit there, covered in dust, just bc it has a fake currency that the older ppl refuse to let go of.

You deserve rage, you deserve fear, you deserve sadness.

But the brighter side is, idk if you've seen in the last day or so. But your not alone in this not even the only teen!

The universe cannot be uncaring bc I care. And bc you care, and bc every other anon who's sent in their sadness and fears cares about each other and the planet. Your not alone. I won't let you be.