#hope this isn’t too overwhelming. now you’re an expert

[crowbiotic]

Hi I run a Linux gimmick blog could you please elaborate on the beliefs of the Wisconsin Evangelical Lutheran Synod?

hello anon. I hope you’re having fun over on your linux gimmick blog. I will now infodump all over you about the Wisconsin Evangelical Lutheran Synod (WELS):

// TW: transphobia, TW: homophobia, TW: brief mention of sexual assault, TW: misogyny //

Firstly, my credentials: my entire extended family, including my immediate family, belonged to this same synod for most of my life (a few of them have since joined Christian churches outside the synod, and my sibling and I have broken from Christianity entirely). My dad has been an organist at my parents�� church since long before I was born— he practices on an old church organ in my parents’ living room. My parents took my sibling and i to church every Sunday and had us stay for Sunday school and bible study afterwards. I attended a synod-sanctioned gradeschool from age 3-14 (pre-preschool through eighth grade) that was quite literally connected to my parents’ church. After eighth grade, I attended and graduated from a WELS high school. These schools taught “religion” classes (WELS teachings) every day and held mandatory chapel services in the schools once per week. Suffice it to say: I know a lot about this god damn synod.

I’m going to try to keep this as brief as I can, but if you or anyone else has follow-up questions, I’d happily go into further detail.

WELS churches and their congregations believe in God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit as equal parts of the same God— the holy trinity. All three of them make up God, but when they just say “God,” they are most often referring to God the Father. Jesus, the Son of God, died as a sacrifice of God the Father for the sins of all people. At a surface level, WELS people believe that all you have to do to enter Heaven is believe in God (more specifically, believe in Jesus). And god, anon, I really wish it were that simple, because I’d probably have a lot fewer issues now, but it never is.

The WELS also holds a very nebulous concept of sin, repentance, and forgiveness at equal importance to the whole all-you-need-is-belief-in-god thing. They believe that we are all born sinful and unclean, and that even though Jesus died to absolve us of all our sins, we are still wretchedly sinful (this includes babies, which is why many WELS parents have their infants baptized in the hospital as soon as they’re born, so that the sinful unclean baby that hasn’t had a chance to learn about God yet isn’t sent to hell if it dies prematurely. The baptism basically stakes God’s claim on the baby.). The WELS doesn’t have confessional booths or anything— no, if you sin, it is YOUR responsibility to acknowledge that sin and pray to God that He forgives you. If this seems contradictory already, that’s because it is! very much so! and this is one of many things that made my younger self really squint at everything I was being taught since I was old enough to comprehend language. (This is the part that most closely relates to the bpd jesus meme I reblogged recently: “go die I won’t save because you ignore me” but, like, actually— they believe that you are actively hurting Jesus on the cross more and more with every sin you do not repent of, and that God will still keep track of every sin and judge you accordingly. What does that mean, since Jesus died to absolve you of that sin? Iunno!!!) They can’t tell a priest their sorrows and have the priest tell them what to do to absolve their guilt. They *can* meet with their Pastor, but there’s this weird sort of social taboo around doing that for some reason…? and private meetings with congregation members’s Pastors are not done regularly by most people.

(Side tangent: since the WELS is a Lutheran synod, they kind of hate ? Catholics ?. They believe the Pope is the Antichrist (not a joke, i’m being so serious right now) and that Catholics are technically worshipping false gods and practicing idolatry by praying to Mary and the Saints, which are two pretty grievous sins in the eyes of the WELS (but then again— what isn’t?). October 30th, Reformation Day, was a special day in school where we re-learned the history of Martin Luther, his 95 theses, Guttenberg’s printing press, the selling of indulgences, and everything else around that time every single year. We weren’t allowed to dress up for Halloween during the school day because that would have been disrespectful towards Martin Luther. A huge part of 7th and 8th graders’s education centers around Luther’s Catechism, which contains Martin Luther’s interpretations of the Commandments, but also of a few other traditional Christian chants).

Now, if you were to ask a WELS person why their beliefs about sin are so contradictory, they’d probably tell you something like this: “well, since Jesus died to absolve those of us who believe in Him of all sin, we don’t HAVE to follow God’s commands. But why WOULDN’T we? Why WOULDN’T you live in ENDLESS THANKS and GRATITUDE to His ultimate sacrifice??”. Unfortunately for everyone around them, the WELS’s interpretation of following God’s commands/living your life in service to God means the good human basics (don’t murder, steal, cheat on your spouse, etc etc general bad stuff) AND it means denouncing any variety of LGBTQ+ identities as sinful, shameful, and unnatural, being VERY opposed to abortion, wives/women in general being subservient to their husbands/men in general (women are not allowed to hold positions of leadership of any kind in the WELS), giving money to the church every Sunday, and being very adamant that their specific variety of conservative Christianity is the best kind and that they must therefore evangelize as much as humanly possible. This church attracts almost exclusively white members, many of whom fall in the middle- to upper-middle-class financially, which means—who would’ve guessed!— their members almost exclusively hold right-wing conservative political views.

I’ve been yapping for way too long already! so here’s a miscellaneous speed round of WELS facts:

- they don’t do the ashes on the forehead on Ash Wednesday, and I didn’t even know that was a regularly practiced tradition until relatively recently. They also don’t give up anything for Lent. There’s just a general haze of melancholy in the air during all of Lent, like, “feel bad, YOU did this to Him. Feel extra bad for these six weeks.” Their churches hold specific mid-week services during the seasons of Lent and Advent alongside Sunday services that are held in the afternoon/evening and are completely different to the Sunday ones (you guessed it!: I had to go to every one of the midweek services too)

- I was told on not one— not two— but THREE separate occasions by three different teachers that we as WELS Christians should not ever attend a wedding for a gay couple, since that would be indicating our approval through our actions even if we didn’t approve, and we must always set an example of “Christ-like behavior”

- Other Christian churches (at least in the area of the Midwest where the most WELS churches are located) call WELS people “the frozen chosen” for their well-known propensity to, ah. For lack of a better phrase: have sticks up their asses. WELS people fully believe that they are following God’s word better than any other religion on earth, including every other sect of Christianity. Also, their services are very stiff, strict stand-up, sit-down, be-quiet affairs. No one is saying “amen” outside of the printed congregational response times detailed in the church bulletins. Jeans are not welcome at many of the churches, though I’m told this varies— you were expected to dress in business-casual-adjacent wear at the very least at the church I grew up in.

- Someone brought a cutout of Trump to school when I was in high school. It stayed in the cafeteria underneath the stained glass art of the cross until some esteemed donors or something were coming to visit (at least several days after it was initially put there)

- WELS schools, since they are private, cost thousands of dollars per year to attend. $7,000-8,000 ish per year when I was there I believe

- If you try to even mention that the Bible has very obviously been altered innumerable times throughout human history by rulers and clergy, and that certain passages (such as the ones most often misquoted to be against LGBTQ+ people), they’ll just stop listening to you. To them, since there are passages in the Bible saying that the Bible is the true word of God, that’s all they need to know. The Bible is the true word of God. Nothing is wrong because it’s the Bible. whatever man

- At least at the church I grew up in, they hold two weirdly patriotic church services every year near the Fourth of July and Memorial Day. Just, uh. God bless America, all morning.

- Being confirmed (promising your life in full service to God and taking your first communion) occurs at age 14. You had to be confirmed to graduate the gradeschool I attended, and in eighth grade, you attended a special series of classes with the church’s pastor during the school day specifically made for confirmation. I asked my parents why this was as a kid, and if anyone could possibly graduate without being confirmed, because even at that age I recognized that maybe I wasn’t grown enough to make this level of a commitment. Their answer was basically “well. After all those years of schooling, I can’t imagine you WOULDN’T want to be confirmed.”

- These people have one of the worst cases of I-wanna-be-oppressed-so-bad-itus that I have ever witnessed. Since I was a kid in the early aught’s I remember hearing in sermons that we are under attack! We are at war for God! Warriors for Christ! We must stay strong against the EEEVIL ENEMY, young people are leaving the church in droves! Music is evil! Culture is evil! The world is evil! etc etc etc

- I got the school librarian to put not only Percy Jackson and the Olympians, but also the first few books in the Warrior Cats series, in the school library. How? I dunno. I’m queer and I was a cute little meatball child. (I think the more likely answer is that the only intellectual properties that were sparking widespread moral panic at the time amongst the church were Harry Potter, Pokémon, and twilight)

- Every second Sunday of the month at my parents’ church, we had “contemporary Sundays,” where we sang more Christian-rock-adjacent songs played on instruments other than an electronic organ. These were mine and my sibling’s favorite Sundays, because hymns backed by drums and guitar are very exciting when the soundtrack to your entire home and church life is typically organ music. Occasionally, people wore jeans to these services. My sibling and I were very much not allowed to, but y’know. Jeans were seen.

- There’s a very distinct air of judgement that pervades this synod. Everybody’s trying to be a better Christian than everybody else. Their strangely fluid merit-based-but-not-really approach to salvation makes this pretty obvious, but I figured it was worth pointing out

- I interacted with almost exclusively WELS members from birth to age 18. College was my first time being around people who weren’t part of the WELS consistently outside of a brief stint in a mental ward at age 15. Both were very jarring but VERY good experiences. I still find myself expecting the worst from strangers, especially middle-aged to older adults, before realizing that outside the isolation of the WELS, almost no one acts in the stiff and overly-judgmental way these synod members do

- You can’t live with your boyfriend/girlfriend/fiance before marriage. Not allowed under any circumstances. You are living in sin, there is no way to repent from that aside from moving apart from each other and going to couple’s counseling with your church’s pastor. A lot of young marriages also don’t pan out very well, there’s a lot of cheating and clashing personalities. Imagine that

- A truly concerning amount of students from the high school I attended have turned out to be convicted sex offenders. Disappointing, but not surprising in the slightest.

I’m absolutely missing important bits, so please let me know if anything doesn’t have sense or if you have questions. I have since deconstructed, left the church, and embraced my queer identity (obviously) but it was a rough road to get to this point. worth it tho

thanks for reading ~

[mononijikayu]

gum— ryomen sukuna.

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!

WARNING/S: nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, smut, oral (female receiving) fingering, orgasm, humor, teasing, flirting, playfulness, possessiveness, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, depiction of sexual acts, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, bad boy bf! sukuna, goodie two shoes gf!;

WORD COUNT: 1.2k words.

NOTE: the song ggum by txt's yeonjun is stuck in my head and i just??? i can't stop listening to it right now. i want to stop, but like??? its really really good. anyway, i'm working on other things right now and most of them are going to be in the longer format. but i hope you enjoy them anyway. i'll be back with something new soon!!! i love you all <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

IF THERE’S ANYTHING SUKUNA’S GOOD AT, IT'S CHEWING GUM AND WINNING YOU. And your boyfriend revels in it. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, your fingers tangling in the sheets beneath you as Ryomen Sukuna’s mouth works you over with expert precision.

It’s a sight you never thought you’d be part of—a "goodie two-shoes" girl, everyone’s picture-perfect student, tangled up with the campus bad boy. But here you are, completely undone. He’s the only one who can do this to you. And he knows it.

You could feel his rough hands grip your thighs firmly, keeping you pinned down while his tongue moves skillfully against your throbbing core. He grinned as though he was delighted. Because you know he was. You knew that he was happy, that none would see him the way he does. No one's allowed to see his goodie two shoes like this but him. And no one will.

You can't stop the loud echoing moans spilling from your lips, the intensity of his mouth sending sparks through your body. Your hips move on their own, grinding against his face as his tongue flicks and curls in a rhythm that drives you to the edge.

You glance down, and the sight of him between your legs only adds fuel to the fire. His bright scarlet eyes lock with yours, a wicked gleam in them as he gives you a grin, never slowing his pace. Your face twists in pleasure, a mix of gasps and whimpers falling from your lips. Your boyfriend’s the most wicked man in the world. And you’re excited about it. 

You feel like you’re going to lose it, your body trembling, legs shaking as he pulls you deeper into a euphoric haze. You haven’t come in a while, not even when you want to. You were too crazy about not failing your exams. And Sukuna respected that. But you know it too well that it got the best of him too, to wait. He likes pleasure as much as he loves you. And Sukuna adores having both. 

Even with his tongue buried deep between your thighs, Ryomen Sukuna’s bad-boy persona never falters. You catch the faintest scent of mint—he’s chewing gum, the same cocky grin stretching across his lips while he devours you like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

You don't know why he does it. But he does this sometimes. And he enjoys it. So you feel the sweetness of his mouth and the mint of his breath take you in as though there was nothing sweeter or delicious in the world than you.

The rhythm of his tongue never stops, even as he adjusts his jaw slightly, that damn piece of gum rolling from one side of his mouth to the other. It’s maddening, the way he’s so casual about it, like he isn’t unraveling you entirely, like he’s not completely in control.

Your body’s trembling, skin on fire as you push your hips harder against his mouth, chasing the wave of pleasure building with every stroke of his tongue. He hums against your soaked core, and the vibration sends a shudder up your spine. 

"Mm, tastes better than gum, doll." he murmurs, his voice muffled, laced with amusement. "You tastin' so good, even better than before."

He doesn't even stop to swallow his words, just dives back in, his grip on your thighs tightening, pulling you closer to his face. You bite your lip to stifle a scream, overwhelmed by the sensation. It was all too much. And yet you still craved for more.

Your legs begin to shake uncontrollably, and Sukuna seems to revel in it, his mouth never losing its cruel, delicious pace. You’re so close, teetering on the edge, and the sound of him lazily chewing that gum only heightens the absurdity, making your head spin.

You grind against his face, desperate for release, and with a low growl, Sukuna pushes you over the brink. The world around you shatters into blinding pleasure as your body shakes and trembles under his relentless mouth. His tongue doesn’t let up, riding you through the waves, leaving you breathless and spent, pinned under the weight of his wicked grin.

Your chest heaves as you struggle to catch your breath, still trembling from the intense orgasm Sukuna just pulled from you. Unshed tears pooling in your eyes, your head slanted to the side, as you take a breath. He made a mess out of you.

He pulls back slightly, lips glistening with evidence of his handiwork, and that damn piece of gum is still in his mouth, rolling lazily over his tongue. He wipes the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, and then, with that smug grin of his, he looks up at you, eyes dark with mischief.

"Didn't expect the good girl to be such a mess, doll." he teases, his voice low and full of that rough-edged charm. His fingers trace lazy circles along your inner thigh, sending aftershocks through your overstimulated body. “You sure you're not addicted to this already?”

You try to glare at him, but your body betrays you, hips still twitching slightly, aching for more despite everything.

"S-Shut up!" you manage to gasp, but it’s weak, your voice shaky from how thoroughly he wrecked you. The smirk on his face grows wider as he leans forward, his breath hot against your thigh.

"You’re all shy and innocent in class, doll." he continues, his voice dripping with arrogance. "But when you're spread out for me, you can’t stop begging for it, huh?"

His words are teasing, cruel in a way that makes your pulse quicken, but there’s something magnetic in the way he says it. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and it’s infuriating. You try to sit up, but he pushes you back down gently, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh before trailing his mouth back up toward your sensitive core.

"What’s the rush, doll, hm?" he purrs, eyes locked on yours, completely unbothered. "I’m not done with you yet. I’m still…hungry."

You can feel him smirking against your skin as he slides a finger through your slickness, deliberately slow, watching your reaction. "Look at you, doll." he drawls, clearly enjoying every second of your helplessness. "Already soaked again. Guess I’m pretty good at this, huh?"

You grit your teeth, trying not to give him the satisfaction of another moan, but your body betrays you, heat pooling in your stomach again. His finger teases you mercilessly, sliding just barely inside before pulling away, leaving you aching for more.

"Come on, just admit it, doll." he coaxes, clearly reveling in your frustration. "You love it when I do this, don't you?" His finger circles your entrance again, maddeningly slow, as he leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear. "Tell me, doll. Tell me how much you love it."

You want to resist, but the words slip out in a breathless whisper before you can stop them. You mewl in pleasure. "I love it. I love it so much, baby!"

Sukuna chuckles darkly, satisfied. "That’s my bestest girl, hm?”

[itsjaywalkers]

a lil smth under the cut for u guys (part 3) <3

(light nsfw)

part 1 part 2

“Well, it’s not perfect, but it’s decent enough, so it’ll have to do,” James says, and Regulus it’s too busy trying to keep his breathing under control to be bothered by the other man’s words. “Relax your shoulders a little, love.” 

“Don’t,” Regulus hisses, even though he isn’t sure himself if that response is because of the nickname, or James’ touch, or James’ closeness, or something else entirely. 

“Don’t what?” James asks, sneaking a hand up and massaging one of his shoulders until both of them sag. 

“You know what.” 

“I don’t even think you know.” 

Regulus huffs loudly, and hates that he can’t argue back. 

“Show me how you do a jab,” James requests, his hands returning to Regulus’ waist after one last press on his shoulder. 

Regulus clears his throat slightly, feeling a bit flustered all of a sudden while he raises his right arm and gets ready to do what James asked. He only hesitates for a couple of seconds before doing the punch, not as confident as he’d usually be after having James criticise him so much. 

He knows he’s no expert. He isn’t even that athletic to begin with. But he still has a boxer brother, which means he’s definitely not as clueless as James is making him out to be. 

Maybe if it were someone else, Regulus would find it in himself to fight back, defend his knowledge and Sirius’ teachings. But, as it turns out, having a professional boxer watching you try to punch is an incredibly humbling experience. Especially one as mind-blowingly good as James. 

Not like Regulus would ever tell him that.

James hums. “Not bad,” he says, and really, it shouldn’t satisfy Regulus as much as it does. “It’s a bit too slow, though.” 

Regulus tilts his head back, in an attempt to look at the other man, but he barely lasts a second after realising how fucking close both of his faces are. 

His heart beats wildly in his chest. He can only hope James doesn’t notice. 

“How so?” Regulus wonders, so relieved to hear his voice sounds completely normal. 

“Jabs focus on speed over strength,” James explains calmly. “It’s a matter of overwhelming your opponent, rather than properly hurting. The punch has to be quick, and once the arm returns, it’s gotta go up, protect your face. Like this.”

He grabs one of Regulus’ arms gently, moving it forward and then back very slowly, to demonstrate how to do it, and then fast, jostling Regulus’ whole body with it. 

“See?” James murmurs, and he could swear that his tone has gone lower. “You don’t have to worry about being strong enough. It’s all about speed.”

“Okay,” Regulus replies with a tiny nod, doing his best to concentrate on what James is seeing, and not on all of the points where they’re touching. Or on how close James is. Or how nice he smells, despite all the sweat—maybe even because of it. “I think I get it.” 

“Yeah? Wanna try again on your own?”

Part of Regulus wants to snark back, argue that it’s only a stupid jab and James is just being picky because he’s a professional boxer and it’s not like there’s an actual science to throwing a punch. But having James holding onto his waist must be clouding his mind, because he just gives another nod, and does his best to replicate James’ movement and speed. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” James breathes out, and Regulus can almost hear his smile. “Very good, love. You’re a natural.”

“Oh, I’m a natural now?” Regulus huffs out, but it comes out more teasing than irritated. 

“Or maybe you just have a great teacher,” James adds playfully, accompanied by a squeeze on his hips. 

“You’re right, Sirius is pretty great,” Regulus responds with a shrug, relishing in the way James clicks his tongue. 

“But I’m better.”

“In your dreams, Potter.”

“Wait, what happened to ‘James’?”

Regulus feels heat rushing to his cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

James chuckles way too close to Regulus’ ear, and his breath hits the side of his neck, goosebumps breaking all over his skin. Regulus has to swallow a very embarrassing and very needy sound before it makes it past his lips.

“C’mon, love, we were getting along so nicely. Don’t try to ruin it now.”

“You’ve finally lost it,” Regulus states, trying to laugh the whole thing off. It probably doesn’t work, though, considering how unstable he sounds. “There’s not a single universe in which you and I get along, Potter.”

“Liar,” James whispers. “I’m growing on you.”

“Whatever gave me away?” Regulus grumbles, sarcasm dripping from his words.

“The fact that you’re letting me touch you,” James murmurs, voice smooth and silky, feeling like a caress. “How you keep leaning against my contact, and catching yourself at the last second.”

Regulus’ breath hitches. “That’s—” 

“The way you’re not even arguing with me anymore. Not really,” James continues, unrelenting, his lips grazing Regulus’ earlobe and making his eyes flutter shut. “If anything, I’d even dare to say you’re flirting.”

“You’re delusional,” Regulus spits, too breathless to sound as furious as he’d like to. “The fucking audacity—”

“And,” James cuts him off, tone so frustratingly smug, “I bet you’re aching between those pretty legs of yours.” 

Regulus lets out an embarrassed noise, barely suppressing the urge to press his thighs together. 

“No,” he croaks out, shaking his head a little and face burning. 

“No?” James mocks him, pressing his smirk behind Regulus’ ear. “Shall we check?” 

One of James’ hands moves slowly, sliding from its place on Regulus’ waist to rest under his navel, fingers playfully caressing his waistband. 

Regulus hates how that mere touch is enough to turn his mind into static. To make his heart stutter in his chest, and the mess in his underwear almost unbearable.

“Potter—”

“No.”

Regulus’ eyebrows shoot up, and before he has the chance to ask, he feels James’ teeth at the side of his neck, nipping teasingly and dragging a fucking whimper out of him.

“What—?!” he begins, completely red in the face and attempting to move away from the other man for the first time since he allowed his touch.

James holds him tighter, bites down harder. “Behave, Regulus, or I’ll fucking make you.” 

Regulus doesn’t listen, despite how the tone of James’ voice makes him tremble like a leaf. He keeps resisting, an outraged sound leaving his mouth while his body betrays him and becomes even wetter. 

“Oh, you don’t get to play the clueless card on me,” James murmurs, his teeth giving way to a devilish tongue that turns Regulus soft and pliant, his attempts at freeing himself growing sloppy, lazy. “I always do my best to be patient, to respect your boundaries and control myself, but you’ve been a damn tease all afternoon, and I’m fucking done.” 

“What the fuck are you even—” 

“Enough,” James growls back, and it’s so commanding Regulus’ mouth snaps shut with a clack. 

There’s a beat of silence, and then James is laughing under his breath. “Good boy.”

It’s filled with mockery, bordering on mean, and yet, it still makes Regulus moan like a fucking bitch in heat, eyes rolling to the back of his skull and body going completely boneless. 

“Fuck,” James whispers, a mix between awed and devastated. “I should’ve known. I should’ve fucking known. Is that what does it for you, baby? You wanna be my good boy?”

Baby. 

Baby. 

Baby. 

Regulus moans again, even though it’s weaker this time, but he still shakes his head, or tries to at least, holding onto the last traces of sanity and refusing to let James win whatever twisted game they’re playing. 

“C’mon, you were doing so well,” James mumbles, tongue licking up the side of his neck. “And you can’t fool me anymore. Not like you ever did, but still. I know you wanna be good for me, baby. Know you wanna please me, let me use you in whatever way I see fit.”

He tries to shake his head once more, but somehow, his brain gets the order wrong and Regulus ends up nodding instead. 

“That’s right,” James coos, dropping a kiss on his skin, long and lingering. “Now, say my name, Regulus.” 

“James,” he gasps almost against his will, mouth moving before his mind can catch up. 

The other man groans and then attaches his lips to his throat immediately after, tongue pressing down as he sucks, the sting feeling absolutely heavenly. 

Regulus tilts his head to the side to give James more space, eyes hooded and limbs heavy, back coming to rest against James’ chest. 

“James,” he says again, without being prompted this time and the word almost sounding like a whine. 

“Fuck, you’re driving me insane,” James hisses against his neck, peppering the skin with open-mouthed kisses, his tongue and teeth mapping out Regulus’ skin. “You don’t understand how long I’ve been dying to do this.”

Regulus whimpers, hands moving on their own volition and reaching behind him until they bury themselves into James’ messy locks. He pulls, a bit harsher than intended, but before Regulus can manage to apologise, James is moaning loudly, the vibrations on his skin making him shiver. 

He pulls again, and James bites down on his throat hard enough to leave a mark. Regulus doesn’t have it in himself to reprimand him, or to tell him to stop. His brain is unable to focus on anything that isn’t James’ mouth working down his neck. 

“We could’ve been doing this ages ago if you weren’t so fucking stubborn,” James sighs, lips caressing his exposed shoulder and dragging another obscene noise out of Regulus. “I knew you wanted it. I knew you wanted me.”

“James—” Regulus pants, apparently unable to speak anything else apart from the other man’s name. 

It’s kind of embarrassing, how pliant a couple of kisses and a few dirty comments can make him. Regulus isn’t usually this easy, especially not in bed; he likes having a modicum of control, always ready to remind his partner that he doesn’t enjoy being bossed around. But, and as much as he hates to admit it, James knows what he’s doing. 

Although, maybe it’s not even a matter of skills. Maybe it’s simply that it’s James, and despite how much he’s tried to deny it, he’s been desperate for him almost since the moment he laid eyes on him. 

“God, baby, you taste divine,” James grunts, sucking on his collarbone almost at the same time that his fingers dip into Regulus’ waistband. They don’t get very far, and it’s more of a playful contact than anything else, but his breath still hitches. “Can’t wait to put my mouth between your legs.”

Regulus makes a keening sound, hips twitching, and James chuckles cruelly against his shoulder.

“You’d let me, right, baby?” James goes on, the hand that had slipped inside the basketball shorts changing its course and travelling up up up, until they’re caressing Regulus’ chest, following the shape of his scars. “There’s no point in pretending you’re not fucking gagging for it at this point. Just look at you. Look at you. I bet you could come from this. From me marking you up while I whisper in your ear.”

“N-no,” Regulus huffs, blinking furiously and doing his best to break out of his daze. “You’re too—too full of yourself. This isn’t enough, it could never be, and I—”

“Not enough?” James questions, stopping his ministrations. Regulus bites his tongue to stop the protest at the tip of his tongue. “Is this your way of asking for more, baby? Because you’re gonna have to do better than that. I don’t listen to brats.” 

Regulus wishes he could scoff, elbow James in the stomach so his touches stop clouding his mind and tell him to fuck off. Maybe even show him how well he can throw a stupid punch. 

But his body isn’t listening to his mind. It doesn’t care about what Regulus truly wants. Or what he’s been telling himself he wants, at least.

That’s why when he parts his lips, none of the curses he’s been preparing come out. Instead, there’s only need and lust. “Please,” he whimpers, closing his eyes tight momentarily. “Please, James, I—I just—”

James shushes him gently while circling a nipple, Regulus’ toes curling inside his toes and cunt clenching around nothing. “Oh, baby. It’s okay. I’m gonna take care of you so well. Give you exactly what you need.”

“Yeah,” Regulus exhales, hands spasming around James’ curls. “Please.” 

“Gonna let me fuck you, baby? Let me finger you nice and open, so you can get ready for my cock?” 

Regulus moans and nods and thrashes around, one of his hands slipping from James’ hair just so he can grab one of James' by its wrist, pushing his arm downwards and hoping to get some relief where he truly needs it. 

James stops right before he reaches his waistband, a cocky grin curving against Regulus’ skin. 

“Well, well,” James breathes. “Aren’t you a needy little thing.” 

“C’mon,” Regulus complains, uncaring of how childish he sounds. He feels too fucking drunk on everything James to be able to think about anything else apart from getting off.

James laughs again, because he’s mean like that, and Regulus can already feel some tears prickling at his eyes out of frustration.

“You have to tell me what you want, Regulus,” James says, and his voice is so damn casual it actually hurts. “This won’t work otherwise.” 

There’s no this, Regulus wants to snap back, but then James is pressing nearer, until Regulus can feel the outline of his hard cock against his ass. It makes him gasp and push back against it, really pleased by the little hiss James lets out at the pressure.

“See what you do to me, baby?” James whispers, dragging his lips over his shoulders, the side of his throat, behind his ear. “We barely did anything, and yet I’m so fucking hard it’s actually painful. You’ve no idea of how many times I’ve jerked myself off to the thought of you. Wishing it was your hand instead. Your mouth. The inside of your cunt.” 

Regulus’ knees shake, a mewl escaping his parted lips, and James’ grip on him turns even stronger. 

“I bet you’ll feel all tight and warm around me,” James goes on, tone husky, words dripping with so much desire it makes Regulus light-headed. “Make the sweetest sounds, too. I used to think you were too uptight and that I needed to fuck the stubborness out of you, but it turns out that you’re real fucking dirty, baby. Grinding back against my cock and opening your legs the moment I praised you a little. Oh, if they could see you now, baby. Big bad scary Regulus Black. Reduced to a pathetic, whimpering mess.”

“Shut up,” Regulus grits out, but he doesn’t stop rubbing his ass on James’ cock, or pulling at James’ wrist insistently, in an attempt to get his hand inside his pants. “You’re all bark and no bite. Spent all these months telling me everything you wanted to do to me, and now that I finally give you a chance, you’re only teasing and babbling in my ear.” 

“Good try, baby, but you should know by now that that attitude of yours only turns me on.” 

“Yeah? Then how come you’re not fucking me yet, huh?” 

James’ other hand, the one that hasn’t stopped gripping Regulus’ waist for a single second, lets go and climbs up, taking a hold of Regulus’ chin. James uses it to tilt his head back, forcing their gazes to meet, and Regulus despises how he feels himself get slicker at the flash of danger on James’ gaze, the sharpness of his smirk. 

“God, the mouth you have on you, baby.” James cocks his head to the side, considering, and he grips his chin even tighter. “So fucking filthy. And so pretty when you beg.” 

“I don’t beg,” Regulus murmurs back, aware that it’s a lie. He still narrows his eyes when James barks out a laugh. 

“Yes, you do. You already have. And you will do so again, if you want to come.” 

“I don’t need you for that. I can just—just walk out of here, leave you hanging and get off all by myself—”

“No, you can’t. I’m sure you’ve also jerked off while thinking of me, right, baby? All that tension, all that repression, I know it took its toll. Did you finger yourself slow and deep as soon as you got home after our interviews? Came with my name in your mouth?”

Regulus only glares at him, not even trying to defend himself. What’s the point, when James can see right through him? Lying won’t do him any favours. 

“You did,” James states, ridiculously pleased with himself. “You’re not gonna go and waste this chance over your wounded pride, baby. Argue all you want, but we both know you’re not going anywhere. Not when you’re practically drooling at the thought of taking my cock.”

“Don’t act like you don’t want it as much, if not more, than I do,” Regulus grumbles. 

James shrugs, leaning forward and forcing Regulus to do the same. Until their noses are grazing each other, breaths intermingling. 

“Never said otherwise,” he retorts with ease. 

“Then what the fuck are you playing at?”

“Nothing, really. Just waiting for you to tell me what you want. I’ll give it to you, baby, I swear. You just gotta ask.” 

Regulus purses his lips, but James does sound sincere, and at this point, it’s not like he has anything else to lose. It’s too late to try and save face, and his dignity, or whatever was left of it, took its leave the moment he allowed James to get this close. 

Besides, he wants this. He wants James. Has done so for a while, probably since the very beginning, and not even he has this much self-restraint.

“Fuck me,” Regulus says in a soft exhale, watching the way James’ pupils eat at his irises. “Please, James, fuck me. I need you inside me, it’s—fucking unbearable, really, and I’m gonna lose it if you don’t—”

“Yes,” James gasps out, nodding fast, moves turning erratic as he finally slips his hand under the shorts, under Regulus’ briefs. “Yes. Of course, baby, anything you want, I’m—shit, you’re so—let me just—”

His fingers rub at his clit playfully, pulling a moan out of Regulus, before they continue their path down, until they’re running through slick curls, teasing at his entrance and marvelling at the wetness they find there. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re fucking dripping,” James whispers in wonder. Regulus can only whimper, pushing against his eager hand. “And it’s for me. All for me. Fucking hell, just—come here—”

It’s when James tilts his head up, clearly wanting to kiss him, that Regulus finally manages to go back to himself. That Regulus remembers where he is, what he’s doing, who he’s doing it with. 

Reality hits him with such harshness that the ground seems to tilt under his feet, leaving him breathless, and dizzy, and having to swallow down a wave of nausea. 

What the actual fuck is wrong with him? 

“Wait,” he squeals, James’ mouth already touching his. “Wait.” 

To the other man’s credit, he does stop immediately at Regulus’ words, pulling back and fingers freezing where they were exploring at his cunt’s entrance. 

Regulus takes a gulp of air, heart rumbling loudly inside his head, his brain screaming at him to get a fucking grip. 

“Reg?” James calls him, a worried frown twisting his features while his eyes roam all over his face. “Baby, you okay?”

“Don’t—” Regulus wheezes out, clawing at James’ arm until he gets the hint and takes it out of his pants. He can’t think with those thick, calloused fingers resting on his cunt. “We can’t do this. It’s—no, James, just—no.”

Something pained flashes in James’ gaze, before it disappears, being substituted by a harshness Regulus has to look away from. “Regulus—”

“No,” he repeats, a lot firmer this time. “I’m not—I can’t, James. I’m sorry, I really am, but I just can’t.”

Regulus doesn’t stick around to hear James’ response, or watch his reaction. He moves away from him, legs shaky but still managing to support his weight, and he exits the ring without daring to glance back.

[naomijoestar]

yo yo yo whats up it your favorite person here and their name is anon (i think)

anyways; s may i have some headcanons of narancia confessing to the usual shy reader? either the part where he might ask the others for help or the actual confession, thanks you very much!!1!!1

(as you can tell… we all narancia. hes our baby boy, hehehehheHEHEHHEHAHHAHHAAH)

Masterlist here <3

Well hello there my favorite person, anon! :p I adore narancia he is literally my baby and I love this ask so much <3

Sorry for the late reply! I have been super busy lately, so if I do take too long to answer your request I am not ignoring it dw but please be patient </3

Narancia confessing to shy reader headcanons

- Narancia is absolutely buzzing with energy the moment he realizes he’s in love with you. You’re the first thing on his mind when he wakes up and the last thing he thinks about before bed. But the thought of confessing? Absolutely Terrifying

- Knowing you’re shy, he tries to plan everything perfectly. He wants it to feel special without overwhelming you, but he has no idea where to start

- He turns to the gang for advice because, let’s face it, Narancia isn’t exactly an expert in romance:

- Mista tells him to play it cool and just go with the flow, but Narancia knows that’s not his style. If he tries to act too laid-back, he’ll end up tripping over his words or forgetting what he wanted to say

- Fugo suggests writing a letter to organize his thoughts. Narancia gives it a shot but quickly gets distracted drawing little hearts and sketches of your face in the margins

- Giorno advises him to be genuine. “Show them how much you care,” which makes Narancia overthink every little thing he wants to say. What if it’s too much? What if he scares you off?

- Bruno reminds him to keep it simple. “If they like you, they’ll appreciate the effort no matter what.” This sticks with Narancia, giving him the final push to just go for it

- After a lot of pacing and second-guessing himself, he decides to take you to a quiet spot near the water, somewhere peaceful where you won’t feel too pressured

- He shows up a little early to make sure everything feels right. He even brought a small gift—a flower he picked on the way or a little trinket he found that reminded him of you. It’s his way of breaking the ice

- The second you arrive, you can tell something’s up. He’s more jittery than usual, running a hand through his hair way too often

- Narancia tries to start casually, but his nerves get the best of him. His words tumble out all at once, a mix of excitement and panic. “So, uh, I’ve been meaning to tell you something. It’s not bad! I mean, I hope it’s not bad. Actually, it’s… it’s good. Really good. At least, I think it’s good—uh, sorry, I’m rambling.”

- He stops, takes a deep breath, and looks at you with wide, earnest eyes. His voice softens, and for once, his usual chaotic energy settles into something tender and sincere

- “What I’m trying to say is… I like you. Like, really like you. More than a friend. You make me feel so happy just by being around, and I—I want to make you happy too. So, uh… would you want to, y’know, be with me? Like, together?”

- He’s blushing so hard it looks like he might combust. His hands are fidgeting, and he keeps glancing away, afraid to see your reaction

- If you’re too shy to respond right away, Narancia immediately backtracks, waving his hands frantically. “Ah, you don’t have to answer now! I didn’t mean to put you on the spot!”

- But when you do manage to tell him you feel the same, his face lights up and his eyes go wide with disbelief before a huge, goofy grin spreads across his face

- “Wait, really?! You mean it? You like me too?!” He’s so overwhelmed with joy that he instinctively pulls you into a hug, but he catches himself halfway and asks, “Is this okay?” before wrapping his arms around you

- Narancia is on cloud nine for the rest of the day. He insists on walking you home, chatting nonstop about all the fun things you’ll do together now that you’re officially a couple

- He’s extra attentive to your needs, especially knowing how shy you are. He never wants to make you feel uncomfortable or overwhelmed, so he’s careful about taking things slow

- Around the gang, he can’t help but brag a little, but it’s always in a way that’s sweet rather than obnoxious. “Yeah, they’re with me now! Can you believe it? They’re amazing!”

- Narancia starts bringing you little gifts all the time—flowers, snacks, or even things he made himself. “I saw this and thought of you!” becomes his favorite line

- He loves holding your hand but is always gentle about it. If you’re too shy for PDA, he’ll respect that, but he still sneaks little touches whenever he can—like brushing his fingers against yours or resting his hand on your lower back

I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did writing it <3 If you’d like anything specific added or anything fixed you can message me about it!

If you enjoyed this make sure to check out my other posts, and if you’d like anything specific for any jjba character/squad you can request it if my requests are open!

[wildflower-playground]

❤️‍🩹🧸ways to cope when age regression isn’t an option🧸❤️‍🩹

regression can be a great coping method and can be very healing to your inner child, but sometimes it just isn’t working. whether that’s because you physically can’t regress for a while, you don’t have the time or space for it, it’s activating a particular trigger, or any other reason — it’s important to remember that you always have other options!

it can be easy to feel lost if agere is your main coping skill and it’s suddenly not available or not helpful anymore, so under the cut i’ve compiled some simple de-stressing strategies to try out instead! :]

have a meal or snack and drink some water! physical needs are important :]

speaking of, use the bathroom and take a shower or bath if you need one. sometimes we don’t even notice it’s been awhile!

move your body, however you’re able to! some examples are going for a walk, dancing around to music, stretching or yoga, getting the mail from the mailbox

have a chat with a friend or family member. human interaction is good for us, even if it’s only for a few minutes!

if you’re okay with touch, go hug someone you love (human or animal hehe)

help someone else in a simple way; maybe do a chore for them, send them a little card or gift, or listen to them talk about their day for a bit. sometimes it can be a good distraction while also feeling nice to help!

do something creative! crochet, paint (even finger painting counts!), play an instrument, build something, redecorate your room, put on colorful makeup, etc

do some deep breathing exercises, and/or try a few grounding techniques

clean up a bit! i know it can be overwhelming, but even picking up just a few items or cleaning just one area can help you feel lots better.

journaling can be a good way to sort out what you’re feeling! you can just write whatever you feel like talking about, or you can look up prompts online to get you started

weighted blankets or heavier stuffed animals (or even pets!) can help with anxiety and sensory issues

pay attention to any negative sensory input and do what you can to fix it: is the room too bright or too loud? is your clothing itchy? do you need some time alone?

find some pleasant sensory input: use a scented lotion or candle you like, wrap yourself in a soft blanket, listen to your favorite music album, turn down the lights in your room, watch a sensory video you enjoy

do something to stretch your brain! work on a puzzle, read a book, or start learning a new skill you’re interested in

try something new! getting out of our comfort zone can help us to feel more alive and excited about life. bring along a loved one or a comfort item to give you courage!

do you like to pray or meditate? if you do, make some time for it and try to let yourself really relax into it!

make plans; it’s important to have things to look forward to, even if it’s just a trip to a cafe you like or a video chat with a friend

surround yourself with comforting objects (for instance, your favorite blanket and stuffed animal, a photo book of fun memories, etc!)

age dreaming can often be a fun coping method even if regression isn’t an option. try doing some of the things you’d normally want to do while small, without pressuring yourself to actually regress!

finally, ask for help! it’s always okay to reach out for help. you are not alone, and you don’t have to figure everything out by yourself!

okay, that’s all for now! please keep in mind that i’m not a mental health expert and this is by no means a complete list, but sometimes i need reminders of what else to try when regression isn’t working and so i hope it’s helpful to others in that way too! it’s totally okay if some of these things don’t work for you — take whatever’s useful and leave the rest.

don’t forget that you can always send me an ask or message if you need someone to talk to, little ones. sending you all hugs! 🫂❤️

[justcashed]

Why Don’t Americans Save More for Retirement? 2 Big Reasons

Most Americans aren’t saving enough for retirement. Is it psychology, the system, or something else? Here’s what’s really holding people back.

Most of us know that saving for retirement is important. We’ve heard it from financial experts, parents, and maybe even that one friend who swears by their 401(k). But despite all this, many Americans still don’t save enough. Why? It’s not just about low wages or high expenses—there’s something deeper at play. Two major reasons stand out: the way our brains are wired and the complexity of the retirement system itself. Let’s break it down. 1. The Future Feels Too Far Away If you were given a choice between $100 today and $200 a year from now, which would you take? Many people would grab the $100 immediately—even though waiting would double the money. This is known as “present bias,” a psychological tendency to prioritize immediate rewards over long-term benefits. Retirement savings fall into this same trap. For someone in their 20s or 30s, retirement feels like a lifetime away. There are bills to pay, vacations to take, and weekend plans that seem far more urgent. The idea of setting aside hundreds of dollars a month for something that won’t happen for decades? That feels like sacrificing today’s happiness for a distant, uncertain future. And here’s where it gets tricky—because the longer people wait, the harder it becomes to catch up. The power of compound interest means that money saved earlier has way more time to grow. But since retirement doesn’t have an immediate “deadline,” it keeps getting pushed further down the to-do list. For You: Principal 401k: Your Guide to Secure Retirement Planning Example: Imagine two people, Sarah and Mike. Sarah starts saving $200 a month at age 25. Mike waits until he’s 40 to start saving the same amount. By the time they both reach 65, Sarah will have accumulated double what Mike has—even though they saved the same amount each month. The only difference? Sarah started earlier, letting compound interest work its magic. This isn’t just an individual issue; it’s a cultural one. The U.S. has built a society focused on instant gratification—same-day delivery, on-demand entertainment, and fast financial decisions. Retirement planning doesn’t fit into that mindset, and that’s why so many people put it off. 2. The Retirement System is Overwhelming Let’s be honest—navigating the retirement savings system in the U.S. feels like learning a foreign language. There are 401(k)s, IRAs, Roth IRAs, pensions (if you’re lucky), Social Security, and an endless list of rules about taxes, penalties, and contribution limits. It’s no wonder people feel overwhelmed and end up doing nothing. And that’s assuming you even have access to a good retirement plan. According to data from the U.S. Census Bureau, only about 35% of working-age Americans rely on 401(k)-style accounts. That leaves millions of workers—especially freelancers, gig workers, and small business employees—without an easy way to save for retirement. https://justcashed.com/2025/02/18/stop-overpaying-how-to-save-money-with-a-heat-pump/ Even those who do have employer-sponsored plans often don’t take full advantage of them. Some don’t realize their employer offers a match (which is essentially free money). Others struggle with the complexity of choosing between traditional and Roth accounts, deciding how much to contribute, or figuring out what to invest in. And when something feels confusing, many people avoid it altogether. Example: Think about the last time you faced a confusing form—maybe for taxes or health insurance. Did you tackle it right away, or did you put it off, hoping it would somehow resolve itself? That’s how many people feel about retirement savings. The more complicated it seems, the easier it is to ignore. Final Answer: Why Don’t Americans Save More? At its core, the issue isn’t just about money—it’s about human psychology and system design. - People struggle to prioritize the future over the present. When retirement feels far away, it’s easy to focus on immediate needs and wants instead of long-term savings. - The retirement system is confusing and not always accessible. Many people don’t have employer-sponsored plans, and those who do often feel overwhelmed by the options and rules. The good news? These challenges aren’t impossible to overcome. With more financial education, better-designed retirement plans, and a shift in how we think about the future, more Americans could start saving earlier and smarter. The question is—will we? Read the full article

[gardeningservicesinsantabarbara]

5 Best Things You Can Do for Your Garden in August

Welcome back to the SB Evolution Landscaping Newsletter! There’s so much going on in the greater Santa Barbara area in August, which is super exciting. Before we get into the best events in the city this month, we’re going to talk about the best things you can do for your garden in the last bits of summer. I hope you enjoy! If you liked this newsletter, make sure you forward to a friend who might find it useful. Before we get into the good stuff, are you following us on social media? We’ll be posting something exciting in the coming days, so be sure to give us a like and follow!

5 Best Things You Can Do for Your Garden in August

August is usually the hottest month of the year, which means you need to be sure to protect yourself from the heat and sun. No garden is worth heat stroke! Embark on a delightful journey into your lush garden oasis with our premier gardening services in Santa Barbara, Goleta, and Montecito. As we cultivate the beauty of your outdoor space, we also value your well-being. Before you step into your gorgeous garden, we remind you to prioritize self-care. Hydrate, apply sunscreen, and don a sun-protection hat to make the most of your gardening experience. Our expert gardeners not only craft stunning landscapes but also encourage a holistic approach to enjoying your outdoor haven. Choose our gardening services for a blend of aesthetic excellence and a commitment to your personal well-being Here are 5 top things you can do this weekend to take care of your garden.

Make sure you harvest at the right size If you’ve got a vegetable garden, it’s important to continue to harvest your veggies at the right time. Picking them too early or too late will stress your plants and leave you with produce that isn’t ideal for cooking in the kitchen.

Fertilize the berries that are slowing down Strawberries and fruit trees usually decline in the month of August. Take the extra time to fully fertilize your fruits! Even though they’re dwindling, they’ll need an extra boost at the end of their season. That way, they can take in lost nutrients and prepare for the coming year.

Take care of the late season fruits! Melons and pumpkins are not quite ready, but the late summer and early fall is time for them to get strong and ready! Take a good look at your melons and squash, make sure they have enough space, maybe give them a fertilizing boost, and clear out any obstacles that could interrupt their growth.

Prune dead branches Whether you have fruit trees or other kinds of trees in your garden, August is a perfect time to get pruning. Cut back dead sections and clear out all those extra, crowding branches.

Call your favorite landscaper Did the summer weather treat your gardens well? Was it flourishing? Even if your garden suffered under the dry heat, SB Evolution Landscape can come to the rescue. All these tips can seem overwhelming, but we’ve got your back. Give us a call or get a quote now before the busy fall months!

Our favorite sustainable outdoor patio brands

If you’re looking to upgrade your outdoor furniture, we wanted to recommend three of our favorite brands. They are high quality, made with sustainable materials, and are honestly gorgeous. Check out these amazing companies and search their sites for your next perfect patio set! Yardbird is a carbon-responsible brand with super fast delivery. They use amazing materials and don’t use a middleman, which means you get more savings in your pocket! West Elm is a high-end home goods shop with tons of eco-conscious options. We love their high-quality materials, neutral tones, and comfortable seating arrangements. Neighbor is a company that prioritizes incredible craftsmanship, sustainability, and the value of gathering around with your loved ones. We love the gorgeous wood and soft seats from this brand.

What’s going on in Santa Barbara?

We would never let you down by forgetting to mention all the happenings in gardening services Santa Barbara we’re excited for! Here are the best events and festivals going on in August—maybe we’ll even see you there! Old Spanish Days Fiesta This might be the best event going on this month, but you’ve got to get there quick! It’s only happening until August 7, so make sure you go in the next couple of days to get the most of your time. Santa Barbara Bowl Now this one, you don’t have to rush to! There is always a great show going on in the bowl, and since it seats nearly 5,000 people in this outdoor venue, you’re sure to get a good seat. Head to their website for a full list of shows and events and grab a ticket while you can! Comedy Night at the Funk Zone This August 16, head to the Funk Zone for a full lineup of hilarious comedians at no cost! Comedy Night is a free outdoor event. It features all the best locals and comedic celebrities from across the country. You won’t want to miss this next weekend if you’re a big comedy fan!

Thanks for reading!

We hope you enjoyed this newsletter. Be sure to forward to a friend if you found something useful.

[0hcicero]

It’s not fair. It fucking sucks. I’m sorry society did not give you a fair hand and that the way academia is designed makes it extremely difficult for anyone who isn’t allistic/non-disabled/with good mental health to succeed. I’m so sorry it’s such a struggle for you right now. I’m sorry it’s not fair.

There isn’t anything I can say that will make what you’re dealing with right now easier, but I hope you’re not discounting what the other people on this post are saying either — that weird is not a workplace death sentence. Your professor is wrong. Your professor may be an expert in being a professor/his field, but they are still just a fallible person, too. They see things through their lens, the same way you see things through yours. It doesn’t it make it truth or the way things are (or will always be).

I know that probably doesn’t mean much now, when you’re in the thick of these emotions and all of this overwhelming school work and the shitty things your prof is saying, but I hope somehow this lands. I would rather work with someone like you any day of the week. I don’t even need to know how competent you are in the field you’re studying to say that. Just the sheer amount of effort and willpower it takes to go through school while autistic, the clear determination you have even in the face of a ton of very shitty struggles at the moment, it all tells me that you’re the type of person who would be passionate and determined about your chosen field, and you’d do what it took to be *competent*. Because you already are.

Anyway last week my professor told the class "coworkers will put up with poor technical skills but they won't put up with weird" and after class I just went and sat in my car and cried bc how am I supposed to survive if I still don't seem "normal" even though I've been doing behavioral therapy since first grade but masking hurts so goddamn bad that I'm only doing two classes a week rn but I'm still falling apart and barely functioning every day and barely getting my work turned in bc i come home from class and collapse for days at a time and its just not fair, its not fair, why do other people get to be the normal, why do jobs get to be easy for other people, why are 66% of autistics unemployed/underemployed its not FAIR

[fueledbyapplepi]

I love your writing it's so good!!! Could I have reader having a crush on the boys and giving them a kiss while they think the boys are asleep and confessing their love to them with mikey, chifuyu and the haitani brothers? Im just so soft for those boys!!!

Sleep Tight | Mikey, Chifuyu, Ran, and Rindou

- Confessing to the boys while they're (not really) asleep

genre: 🌸 fluff 🌸

warnings: minor cussing

A/N: Thank you, anon! I really got into writing this one ( ◜‿◝ )♡ Also, I honestly think I need to come up with better titles because it sounds like a word vomit to me LMAO Anyway, I hope you enjoy this!

Mikey (Sano Manjiro)

Life would be nice if you had someone by your side who felt the same way about you.

You already have Mikey by your side, making every day much easier to get by. But does he feel the same way with you?

You practically grew up together with Mikey. Being neighbors with the man, you often come by to play with them as kids- leading to a blooming friendship. Although more often, it was you watching Mikey train in his grandfather’s dojo, where he never fails to amaze you with his tricks. Sometimes, you’ll have sleepovers together with Emma and Mikey where you’ll watch movies with them. Only for Mikey to be sound asleep halfway through the movie.

Growing up, nothing has changed that much with that routine. The only thing that has changed is your growing feelings for Mikey.

You saw the ups and downs in his life. From the time he established Toman to losing Shinichiro, you were there to witness how he would build a castle from the rocks of his downfalls.

So it was no surprise that you find your heart beating much faster when he’s around.

Childish as he is, you can’t deny the fact that Mikey is charismatic, beautiful, and kind. But, you never had the chance to tell him what you feel. Because what if he never saw you the same way?

You looked at Mikey, who’s currently sitting by your side almost half asleep. His head swings from side to side as he struggles on whether he should watch the movie or not.

“Mikey, you always never get to finish our movie nights. You’re no fun.” Emma pouted at his brother as she turned off the television.

“Mhmm, not sleepy.” Mikey turned to look at you then at Emma before leaning on your shoulder. “Just a little.”

Your heart flutters from close contact. “Maybe he’s tired from one of Toman’s meetings.” You turned to look at Emma with a sorry face

Sighing, Emma stepped out of the room as she looked at you, “I’ll get us a blanket, wait here Y/N.”

Your face felt hot as you realized that you were left alone in the room with Mikey. Well, this isn’t unusual for you two but with the strong feelings you have for him, you just can’t help but blush.

You looked at Mikey, his eyelashes seemed a bit longer, making his eyes more beautiful. His lips, although chapped, pouted with the way he’s comfy with you.

“Mikey, can you stop being so pretty? It makes me want to kiss you,” you whispered, thinking that Mikey’s probably dozing off to dreamland.

Mikey opened out one of his eyes to take a peek at you. All the sleepiness vanishing from his body. Did he just hear you right? “Then kiss me, Y/N.”

“Heh? Mikey, you’re awake?” you felt embarrassment creeping into you. “Mikey...I...look, sorry. I-”

Your blabbering mouth was silenced with a peck on the lips. Mikey kissing all your worries away.

“I like you too, Y/N.” He smiled as he leaned closer to you. Your foreheads touching and nose brush against each other.

You felt like you’re on cloud nine. Is this real? Mikey likes you too?

Before you could say anything, the door opened with Emma looking at the two of you weirdly. “Hehhh, am I interrupting something?”

You and Mikey looked at Emma. An embarrassed look on both of your faces as if you were caught red-handed.

Now, there’s a lot of explaining to do.

Chifuyu Matsuno

No matter how many times you try, you always seem to lose.

But who won’t?

With Chifuyu’s angelic smile and kind eyes, your determination to admit your feelings for him always seems to waver. It’s just that your thoughts always fly out the window and anxiousness gets the best of you.

You’ve known Chifuyu for quite some time now. Baji, who’s your cousin, introduced him to you as Toman’s 1st Division Vice-Captain and most trusted partner. Of course, it was only natural for you to be wary of him. Baji might trust him, but he could be some sort of drug dealer or serial killer. Who knows?

You’re wrong though. The more time you spend with Chifuyu, the more you appreciate his presence. How can you not? He always lends you a helping hand whenever you need it. As cliche as it sounds, Chifuyu is like the knight and shining armor in your life.

And now here he is. Once again saving you from another horrible situation.

Chifuyu offered you a ride when he found you drenched from the rain in Shinagawa. Apparently, the weather wouldn’t be pleasant today but you forgot to read the weather forecast. Currently, he brought you to his home for the meantime as the rain wouldn’t be stopping until tomorrow.

“I’ll just text and let Baji-san know that you’ll be staying here.” Chifuyu handed you a blanket as he laid on his futon.

“Thank you, Chifuyu. But I swear it’s okay for me to sleep there. This is your bed anyway.” You said embarrassed.

Chifuyu yawned. Tiredness dropping from his eyes. “It’s alright, Y/N. I can’t let Baji-san’s pretty cousin sleep on the floor.” He smiled at you with a faint blush on his cheeks.

You laid on the bed silently. Blushing from his compliment. Did he just call you beautiful?

You looked at the ceiling for about a good minute before turning to Chifuyu. “Chifuyu-san, I-”

A soft sleeping figure cut you off. The light from the lamp outside reflected on his beautiful features.

You padded off your feet on the floor and sat right next to Chifuyu. Observing him, you notice that he looks prettier when he’s peaceful like this.

You hesitatingly brushed your fingers on his hair. While massaging it, you can’t help but feel overwhelmed by your emotions. “I like you, Chifuyu-san.” You smiled proudly at yourself as you finally got to admit your feelings even though he’s asleep.

However, you noticed that the sleeping figure in front of you stiffened and reddened from your statement. Eyes wide, you held a hand in your mouth.

“Chifuyu-san, are you awake?” You hoped that he wasn’t.

But apparently, he is. “I guess you caught me.” Chifuyu sat up and scratched his head as he smiled at you sheepishly. “That felt nice though.”

“I’m sorry!” You bowed your head, hair hiding your flustered state.

“I like it!” Chifuyu panicked. “I mean, no. I like it. But, I like you too, Y/N-san.”

You laughed. At the same time, feeling extremely happy from what you just had heard.

“I guess we have some explaining to do with Baji-san.” you teased him

“Mhmm. But,” he held your hand and put it into his hair. “Would you continue that?” Chifuyu smiled.

“Of course.” You smiled at him, continuing your hair massages.

Looks like you won this time.

Ran Haitani

You’re no medical expert. The only knowledge you got was based on textbooks and first aid knowledge.

Yet somehow, Ran would always come knocking on your door whenever he has cuts or injuries. Sometimes, even without one, he would come by at your place and complain that his body is painful.

And it’s one of those nights again as you hear a soft knock on the door.

Moving to Roppongi, you were warned about the Haitani brothers. How you must stay away from them because they’re just no good. However, you somehow managed to come across the elder Haitani while you were shopping at a local store when he asked you what hair dye he should use.

This little interaction moved from one way to the other and now, ever since Ran found out where you live, he always comes by to let you heal his “injuries”.

You’re not complaining though. Despite the rumors and warnings, Ran was much more different from what other people say. He may be cocky and teasing, but the beautiful man sure is nice when it comes to you.

Causing you to develop a little crush on him.

You opened the door as you welcomed Ran. “Now, what do we have for tonight?”

Ran stepped in as he walked towards the couch. Laying as if he lives around here. “I got a bump on my forehead.” He pointed out as he pouted at you.

“You have Rindou! And you call yourself notorious but you come here whining like a baby.” you rolled your eyes as you got in the kitchen getting an ice pack for the man.

“Here.” You handed out the ice pack as you stood up in front of him.

“No.” Ran rolled his eyes. “Kiss it, Y/N.” he pouted once again.

“You’re not a baby, Ran. Tch.” you sighed as you sat across him. “Take a nap here and I’ll cook for you when you wake up.”

“Now, wifey material aren’t we.” Ran teased as he closed his eyes. Holding the ice packet against his forehead.

About a good 10 minutes have passed and you never heard another bicker from Ran. As you look at him, the man seems to be sleeping like a log.

You crouched down near him. Observing his features. You must say, he’s quite beautiful and more attractive when less chaotic.

“You’re such a big baby.” Thinking that he’s asleep, you kissed the small bump on his forehead.

As you got up to prepare his late dinner, a hand clutched yours.

You felt your body freeze for a moment as you turned around and saw a bastard smiling cockily.

“Do it again, Y/N.” Ran grinned at you as he held on tighter on your hand. “I’m a big baby but your baby.”

“Let me go!.” your face was beat red as you tried to yank off your hands. Only failing as Ran grabbed your arms causing you to fall on top of him.

“I like you, Y/N” Ran hugged you tightly while you were a blushing mess on top of him. “So let's just stay like this for a while.”

And you did.

Being with Ran isn’t so bad after all.

Rindou Haitani

If there’s one thing you’re proud of, it’s the skill you have for coloring people’s hair.

You like dyeing your hair, your friend’s hair, your cousins, and to just anyone who asks for your help. So it was no surprise when Rindou asked you to help him in doing his highlights.

Of course you can’t say no. Not because he is a Haitani but because you actually like his presence. When you’re around him, everything seems more calm and peaceful.

Despite being a menace around Roppongi, you and Rindou are actually good friends. You’ve known each other when he saved your ass around a group of guys who tried to harass you. And although he was stoic to you at first, he was able to ease up to you because of your caring nature.

After all, you recognized him as Rindou Haitani and not “Ran’s younger brother”. And he appreciated you for it.

So now here you are in their living room. Currently finished in dyeing Rindou’s hair.

“And there you have it. We just have to wait for an hour or so before washing it.” You tidied all the mess up as Ran sat and observed you. “By the way, why won’t you let me dye Ran’s hair?”

He raised an eyebrow upon your question. “Because he can’t have you.” Your eyes widened from his statement. Rindou, realizing what he just said, covered it up with an excuse. “I mean, I want him to dye his own hair and let it look shit. If he wants someone to dye his hair properly, he can go to the salon.”

You laughed at his statement. Well, he can actually crack up jokes once in a while if he loosens up his strict facade. “Oh Rindou, we also need to buy an extra conditioner.”

You looked up and saw the man with closed eyes. Deciding that you don’t want to disturb his sleep, you sat quietly beside him and observed him.

Rindou is already handsome with his glasses. But you realized that he looks much cuter without one.

He just looks good in anything.

You traced the bridge of his nose as you admired his features. “You know what? I actually might have feelings for you.” you muttered softly as you smiled.

“Let’s go out on a date then.” Rindou opened his eyes as he looked at you. Your lips a few inches away from his.

“Rindou!!!” You sat up straight. “I thought you were-”

“Asleep? Well I’m not.” he smiled at you as reached out for your hand. “But I meant it Y/N. I like you, and I want us to go on a date.” Rindou looked at you, hoping for an immediate response.

He does like you. After all, you were the only person who he was able to open up to other than Ran.

“Okay.” You smiled as you brushed your thumb at the top of his hand.

Rindou caressed your cheeks. Leaning in and going for a kiss.

“Ohh. Can I join?” a teasing voice butted in. Causing you two to look at the tall man who’s leaning in the doorframe. “I mean can I join Y/N’s dye party? Just continue that later.”

“Ran, get out!” Rindou shouted as he pointed at the door to his brother.

Well, things quickly escalated with the brothers.

As well as your relationship with Rindou.

[tklpilled]

weightless

(sasha, tim)

summary: sasha is carrying lots of metaphorical weight on her shoulders, so tim gives her a non-metaphorical massage.

a/n: unedited. for the prompt ‘massage’!

[this is a sfw tickle fic!]

Sasha likes her job in the archives, she really does. There are worse places she could be. It’s just—it’s always hard adjusting to a new thing, and she loves Jon, but he’s not the best boss in the world. And she can’t blame him; he was suddenly thrown into a position he had no experience with, and that must be overwhelming, but that doesn’t mean he can take it out on his coworkers, especially Martin.

It’s not like Sasha has much archiving experience herself, and there’s so much work left behind, so yes, it does get to be a bit stressful—but at least there’s Martin’s tea and Tim’s jokes and Jon’s occasional appearance outside his office, and those brighten things up at least a little.

Some days the stress is heavier than others.

It’s like she can physically feel it weighing down her shoulders. Her back and head and everything aches, and all she wants is to go home and sleep for as long as she can manage. It’s probably showing on her face, but she ignores the couple of concerned glances cast her way. 

She startles when she feels hands on her shoulders. She knows it’s Tim right away—Jon’s hands are much smaller, and Martin is far too shy to do something like that without warning. 

“What are you doing?”

“Giving you a massage,” Tim declares. Before she can ask why, he continues. “You’re stressed out! I’m helping.” His thumbs dig firm circles into her shoulder blades, and she smiles for the first time that day.

“Thank you,” she says, shutting her laptop and resting her head in her hands. She’s feeling better already, some combination of the massage and Tim’s presence and the knowledge that someone truly, deeply cares. She nearly finds herself drifting off, and while her desk isn’t as comfortable as her bed, she can’t find it in herself to complain even internally.

Her eyes flutter open as Tim’s fingers find the base of her neck. Now, Sasha’s not the most sensitive person, but that’s not to say she doesn’t have a fair amount of spots that make her laugh. Tim, of course, the self-proclaimed Expert Tickler of the archives, knows all about these spots of hers, but most of the time he’s nice enough to not start something with her. Today seems like an exception.

She has enough self control to not jerk away the moment the feeling shoots through her, although she does stiffen and raise her shoulders just a bit. 

“Sorry,” Tim says, the mischievous grin evident in his tone. “Accident.”

Sasha knows for a fact that it wasn’t any accident, but she hopes that if she stays silent about it he’ll give up.

Her hopes are futile. She should have known.

“T-Tihim, this isn’t—m-muhuch of a mahahassage,” she giggles, covering her mouth to stifle herself.

Tim sounds far too gleeful. “Ah, but it’s getting you to relax, no?”

She hates how she can’t argue. She lurches forward when his hands find the backs of her ribs, at the same moment Martin walks in and promptly flushes bright pink.

Without skipping a beat, Tim calls out his preferred type of tea, and then tells him Sasha’s order too, since she’s currently occupied. Martin stammers and fiddles with his hands awkwardly before nodding and walking back to the break room to put the kettle on. 

“I like that boy,” Tim says once he’s gone, over Sasha’s steadily growing laughter. “Wonder if we can manage to get both him and Jon for a night out.” He squeezes her sides, as if to ask her thoughts on the matter. 

Struggling to form clear sentences, she manages, “I thihihink Jon would fihire uhus.”

Tim sighs. “You’re right. Probably.” He crawls back up towards her shoulders and slowly stops tickling her until he’s giving her a regular massage again. 

“That was no help at all,” she tells him after catching her breath.

“You look better now,” is all he says, and Sasha can’t even deny that she feels much lighter.

[sluttyten]

#25, #37 and #181 for Jungwoo or Jaehyun ❤️‍🔥

Jungwoo or Jaehyun + “shit, i forgot just how tight you are.” + meeting them at a house party and sneaking off to fuck them in the bathroom. + you being their best friend’s younger sibling.

When your brother Mark met his best friend, when he moved in with him, you thought for sure you’d cracked it and that your brother was gay and his best friend was his secret boyfriend. They were constantly together--going on trips, going out to dinner, going shopping together--so it wasn’t like it was a crazy leap in logic. But then one night, Mark was out of town, you needed a place to stay, so he told you to go stay at his place. 

Neither you or Jungwoo ever admitted to Mark the truth of that night. How you’d been sitting on the sofa with Jungwoo, venting to him, and when you’d mentioned in an offhand way how he was your brother’s boyfriend (like, obviously), Jungwoo paused and looked at you with the most adorably confused look on his face.

“I’m not his boyfriend. We’re honest to God just friends.” He holds his hand over his heart. “I’m into you, not Mark.”

In the space after those words, your entire worldview rearranged. You looked at Jungwoo, at the way he was looking at you, leaned towards you in comfortable casualness, and you realized that yeah, you could be into him too.

He fucked you right there on that sofa that night, and again in the shower the next morning, and before you left for the day, you made it clear to Jungwoo that sleeping with him meant nothing more than that you found him attractive too. You didn’t want your brother to know, and you didn’t plan to let it happen again. It had been perhaps a lapse in judgement to have sex with your brother’s best friend.

Weeks go by, and then months. You and Jungwoo are perfectly normal around each other, not letting that night interfere in any way. And then Mark throws a housewarming party when he and Jungwoo move out of their cramped apartment and start renting a house together with a few other friends. 

It’s the kind of housewarming that your other family members aren’t invited to. It feels more like a frat party than a housewarming.

There’s people everywhere. All over the lawn, filling every inch of the house you’d just helped your brother move his furniture into. You recognize a few of them as close friends of your brother that you’ve met before, but for the most part, you don’t know these people. You assume many of them are friends of the friends he’s moved in with, but you don’t even know any of those people other than Jungwoo.

So, you do your best to make new friends.

You meet a few lovely people before you finally meet Jaehyun. 

He seems nice, very friendly and handsome. You meet him over a tray of snacks you just know your brother sat out, and you start talking to him, small talk that quickly takes a turn when you both realize a mutual interest. That conversation carries you away from the snacks to standing outside, and once you’ve made it outside, you realize that someone’s set up a game of beer pong.

“Jae!” The guy at one end of the table calls as soon as he spots Jaehyun. “We need someone to play against!”

Jaehyun looks at you. “Want to be my partner?”

You hate the idea of leaving his side, knowing that if you do, some other girl that’s been eyeing him all night would quickly sweep in to try to fill your spot. 

So, it’s possibly one of the best decisions you’ve made yet that night to be his partner for beer pong because you win, and in the joy of victory, Jaehyun sweeps you into a hug and promises you that he owes you a prize. He quickly makes it clear that that prize is a fresh drink that’s not beer with a ball floating in it.

You could care less about getting another drink, but you go along with him as Jaehyun attempts to swim through the crowd of people that have gathered for this party now. You cling to his arm (his bare, well-chiseled biceps), and you never let your eyes leave the sight of his head (a backwards hat resting on his long black hair). 

When Jaehyun finds the way to the kitchen almost impossible to pass through due to it being a small room filled with alcohol and too many people trying to drink that alcohol, he sighs and stops, leaning against the wall and tugging you close to avoid you getting knocked into by the people passing behind you.

“Well, there goes my planned prize for you,” Jaehyun sighs, looking at you with this look that swells a hope inside you. “Guess I should treat you with something else.”

“I have an idea,” you venture, pressing forward a little more, letting your hand slide up his arm. “If you’re interested, you could be my prize, and I’ll be yours.”

“I’ll take that. Gladly.” Jaehyun’s gaze flicks between your eyes and your lips.

Before either of you can back down, decide that maybe you’re too buzzed to make a solid decision right now, you grab his hand and pull him away from the mass of people waiting to get inside the kitchen. You lead him upstairs, heading right for the bathroom you know is at the end of the hallway beside one of Mark’s housemate’s rooms.

You think you hear someone call your name downstairs, but over the music, it’s difficult to tell, and you refuse to let yourself be distracted away from Jaehyun.

You pull him inside the bathroom. Jaehyun closes the door behind him, and as soon as he’s turned to face you again, you all but launch yourself at him. 

Jaehyun’s teeth clack against yours. His warm fingers dig into your ass and thighs, and you clutch desperately at Jaehyun’s face, holding his mouth against yours in a bruising kiss as he stumbles deeper inside the bathroom with you. You feel the plasticky brush of the shower curtain, and then your back hits cool tile. 

Jaehyun has you against the shower wall, the scent of body wash filling your nose, and your moan echoes off the tile when Jaehyun slips his hand inside your panties. His fingers are expert, skilled at getting you off, toying with your clit and then he’s two fingers deep, rubbing your clit now as well as stimulating you from the inside. 

“Told you I’d give you a prize. You gonna cum for me, pretty girl? Gonna cum on my fingers?” Jaehyun kisses his words against your throat, and then he closes his lips around a sensitive spot and sucks.

Not that you want Jaehyun to know, but it’s been months since the last time you had sex, since the last time you orgasmed, so as the climax hits right now, your vision goes white, and your senses are overwhelmed on every side.

The volume in the room increases to a dull roar in your ears, and your fingers dig into Jaehyun’s shoulders, your body arching as he keeps going, pushing your orgasm to last longer and longer on his fingers. You moan his name softly between gasps, like an ecstatic prayer.

Your eyes flutter open, and you realize that the volume in the room isn’t just the buzz of pleasure and the pounding of your heartbeat anymore.

The dull roar of the party cuts out significantly when Jungwoo shuts the door behind him. Jaehyun’s head snaps up from where he’s been trying to leave his mark on your throat. Jungwoo clears his throat, “Don’t mind me, Jae, I just came up for a piss. But you should probably know that’s our housemate’s sister you’re fingering.”

Housemate? Jaehyun’s one of Mark’s new housemates? Shit, you drop your head back, in disbelief that you’ve done this again, fucking with your brother’s friend.

“Shit,” Jaehyun whispers quietly against your skin. “I thought you looked kinda familiar.”

“She has a thing for fucking her brother’s best friends.” Jungwoo turns his back on the pair of you, and you realize that he genuinely is using the toilet right now. Unbelievable. He couldn’t have just walked out to use one of the other two bathrooms in this house when he saw that this one was occupied?

“Jealous, Jungwoo?” You push lightly at Jaehyun’s shoulders until he steps back, freeing up enough space for you to straighten your clothes. “It’s not a good look on you.”

Jungwoo laughs. “Why would I be jealous? We had sex one night, and never spoke about it again.”

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t want it to happen again.” You walk up right behind him. “Do you think I haven’t caught you looking at me?”

Jungwoo turns to face you. “What about you looking at me? Have you not spent any lonely nights since then thinking of me? Remembering the way I touched you, how it felt when you fell apart for me?”

Jaehyun clears his throat. “I’m still standing right here, you know. If you’re gonna have this weird moment, at least let me leave.” He starts to step around you, to squeeze by both you and Jungwoo, but you reach out to touch his arm.

“Don’t go. I want you to stay. You’re the one I brought in here. Not Jungwoo.” You squeeze Jaehyun’s wrist. 

“Maybe you two just need to fuck it out of each other again,” Jaehyun recommends. “Don’t let me get in the way of that.”

You don’t let go of his wrist even when he tugs, instead you hold tighter. Something he said gave you an idea. “Don’t go. I don’t want you to be in the way, Jaehyun. What if, and either of you can say no, but what if we all got what we wanted?”

You know for a fact it would be the end of you if Mark ever learned that you’d had sex with not just one of his bestfriends, and not even just that you had sex with two of his best friends, but the fact that you had sex with two of them at the same time in the bathroom of the house he’s renting with said best friends, yeah, you would be over if he knew.

So you definitely don’t let risk letting him find out.

This time you lock the door. You don’t want anyone walking in when you’re leaning your elbows on the low countertop of the sink in that bathroom, blowing Jungwoo with your panties around your ankles while Jaehyun fucks you. You don’t want anyone to walk in when Jaehyun pulls you back up against his chest, when Jungwoo steps closer and edges his fingers in alongside Jaehyun’s cock.

Something about the coordinated way that they move with each other, the way neither voices a complaint as Jungwoo stretches your pussy around him and Jaehyun’s cocks, something about that strikes you as odd. Not premeditated necessarily, just practiced, like maybe they’ve fucked a girl together before.

If you thought your orgasm on just Jaehyun’s fingers after so long without sex was amazing, then the orgasm you experience on both of their cocks is world-ending. You feel yourself breaking apart at the edges, the pleasure going and going as they neither one stop when they feel you cumming around them. 

Jungwoo kisses you even when your head falls back against Jaehyun’s shoulder, tasting the pathetic whimpers and pleas of more that spill from your lips. Jaehyun snaps his hips forwards harder, driving himself closer and closer to his own orgasm. The feel of his cock pulsing inside you, shooting his load inside you, is enough to have you cumming again.

Jaehyun pulls out, but he stays right there beside you, his chest against your back, his arms around you, holding you up as Jungwoo keeps fucking you. You’re sensitive now, so sensitive and it hurts but it feels so good, and you keep clenching around Jungwoo. 

“Shit, baby,” Jungwoo hisses and groans. “I forgot just how tight you are. I’ve missed you. Fuck, I’ve missed this.”

You feel like a white hot star on the verge of collapse by the time that Jungwoo cums, his fingers twitching over your clit just to draw a final orgasm from you. This is all much more than you’ve felt in a long time, or possibly more than you’ve ever felt. 

Jaehyun supports you against his chest as Jungwoo steps back. Your legs feel useless when your feet touch the floor, and you have Jaehyun to thank for you not completely collapsing. He holds you, slowly leaning back against the wall and sinking even more slowly to the floor with you. You feel like you could never move again and be perfectly happy. 

“I’ve got her, she’s fine,” you hear Jaehyun say. “Go back out to the party. I can help her clean up, can get her to bed. Should I put her in Mark’s room?”

“No,” you murmur, “Put me in Jungwoo’s bed. Mark wouldn’t think that’s weird for me to be there.”

Jaehyun goes a little stiff at the idea of leaving you in another guy’s bed, but you hear the silent agreement between the two. They won’t talk about this outside of here. They won’t let this fuck up a friendship--either the one between them, or the one with Mark. Jaehyun will help you into Jungwoo’s bed tonight, but that doesn’t mean he won’t hope to have you in his on some other night.

And after Jungwoo leaves the bathroom, after you’ve regained some desire to get up off this bathroom floor,  you makeout with Jaehyun in the shower while you both clean up. You sneak out of the bathroom and down the hall to Jungwoo’s room beside your brother’s, and when you climb in between the covers and bury your face in the pillow that smells just like Jungwoo, Jaehyun slides in beside you.

“I really like you,” he tells you. “I know we’ve only known each other for a couple hours now, but I really like you.” 

“I like you a lot too,” you admit. You place a hand lightly on his cheek, drawing Jaehyun into a kiss. 

Jungwoo finds you like that a bit later when he comes to bed; you and Jaehyun asleep in each other’s arms in his bed, and his heart breaks a little knowing that this is something he could have had if he would’ve just fought a little harder a few months ago to make his feelings known to you. He should’ve made a move before tonight, sometime after that night you’d spent with him months ago. But he was scared of what your brother might think.

That’s why he’d come upstairs tonight. He’d seen you walking upstairs, and by the time Jungwoo navigated his way through the crowd and extricated himself from clinging hands trying to drag him in for a drink, he’d followed you upstairs only to find you getting fingered by Jaehyun.

He’s still standing there beside his own bed, looking at you two, when you stir. 

“Jungwoo?” You ask, stretching out a hand to him. “Come to bed.”

The feel of your palm sliding against his, lightly pulling him to join you, that is almost more exhilarating that what happened earlier in the evening. Because you might be cuddling with Jaehyun, but you clearly want him there too, and Jungwoo doesn’t entirely understand what any of this means, but if he can have this moment with you and a million more like it, he doesn’t think he really minds what it means to share you with Jaehyun. 

requests are now closed! Thank you to everyone that sent your requests/prompts in, I really enjoyed writing these drabbles!

[sukirichi]

overtime

You let your boyfriend release stress from working overtime.

REQUEST. med! student au / doctor! au + forbidden relationship + praising kink + dacryphilia

CONTENT/WARNINGS. praising kink, dacryphilia, face fucking, huge age gap (Nanami is like 20 years older), mentions of gloomy atmospheres expected of medical centres, gagging, mentions of previous lovemaking sessions

NOTES. ah thank you for this request anon, i’m really in love with the whole med student / doctor au ingredient cuz well...it’s sorta self-indulgent. i hope you liked this as much as i did!

The familiar stingy aroma of disinfectant looms at every corner of the wall, pressing down beneath your scrubs and deep into your scrubs. You find it ironic that the walls are always so white, barely any colour to surround the entire building. Growing up, you believe that white represents tranquillity, silence, and serenity – which is the exact opposite of what university hospitals really are.

You’re no stranger to the pained moans echoing at the ends of the hall, the sight of children with sunken cheeks playing with a cannula almost too painful to look at.

The clock above the front desks reads that it’s a little past four in the morning, and you’re beyond weary. You’ve grown used to just being high off caffeine and being satisfied with quick ten minute naps before you’re summoned again. People always ask you, why choose this profession? You could make as much money without having to be this tired, to which you always respond with a frown, claiming that it’s never about the money and actual working professionals are a lot more exhausted than you are, yet not once have they complained.

They do have their days though, and it just so happens that it’s one of your superior’s days as he tugs at your wrist, dragging you inside the nearest empty room before soft lips dive down to capture yours.

You don’t have to open your eyes to know it’s him.

You’ve fooled around long enough with your superior to know it’s his scent washing over yours, that all too familiar tent growing in his pants pressing between your legs and bumping your core as a silent promise of what’s to come next. A stuttered, breathy moan immediately greets his ears when he pins your arms overhead, his lips falling into the sweet column of your neck.

It’s clear that this is wrong – both of you know this – but the pleasure and need to relieve stress in such an overwhelming environment clouds both your consciousness that neither parties pull away.

Your relationship with him started off with just curiosity.

Doctor Nanami is a well accomplished man, earning beyond money and titles in his twenty years of service in the field. He knows he looks good, knows he’s irresistible every time he comes in front of the class, looking equally dashing in either a nude suit or in white coats. Someone of his age and experience definitely is no fool to the way his bright eyed student’s gaze lingers over his lips as she stays behind in class to ask about something she doesn’t get far longer than should be necessary.

He’s an expert at the human body more than anything else – Nanami knows lust when he sees one.

And he’s always been such a kind, concerned doctor who only wants everyone to feel better that how could he say no to you, especially when you’re only so eager to suck him off under the table, getting off to the fact your pretty lips are wrapped around his thick and veiny cock?

What once starts off as a mutual agreement to use each other for pleasure while still keeping the faux professionalism to not lose face, something shifts during the stolen kisses during break times and heated touches as promises of I’ll see you later after overtimes. Private tutoring sessions turns into moments of reminiscing childhoods, hands splayed all over his chest while he tucks you in his arms, mumbling something about always have wanting to be his own version of a hero.

Things move faster than both of you realize, the titles dropped and replaced with sweethearts and good morning sir topped with a sweet, intimate smile that only he could ever know the meaning of.

It’s simple, longing, and definitely unprofessional, even more so when Nanami pushes you down on the floor, eager hands unbuckling his belt to spring his cock free. Your mouth salivates at the red pulsing tip already leaking with pre-cum, your tiny hands on its way to wrap itself around his base when Nanami takes matters into his own hands and slips his cock through your lips in one thrust.

Your back hits the wall and your eyes spring with tears, gurgled sounds of Nanami fucking down your throat lewd and dirty in the empty room. He sighs, chest panting and hands cradling your head. “You feel so good, sweetheart,” he praises, bucking his hips further inside. “Don’t know what I’d do without you here, always so ready to make me feel good.”

The moan you let out vibrates around his cock, fuelling his desire intensely.

Nanami has always been gentle with you; as a man who values time over anything else, he likes to savour each second he has with you, slow, rough hands running up and down the curve of your spine before he flicks his tongue deep within your pussy, wanting to make you cum countless times before he makes love to you. Had you both been home, he’d cradle your face and stare deep into your eyes as he fucks you, sweat tinged from the slight burrow of his brows as he commands, “Look at me. Look at me when I’m fucking you, angel.”

And you being you, you’ll remain submissive to the pleasure he’s more than glad to give you, leg wrapping around his waist all to feel the way he’s hitting deep inside your sopping cunt.

He’s impatient this time around, and you can’t blame him. You’ve barely seen each other from hours of working overtime, with you staying up late to study for finals and him barely leaving the operating rooms. You gladly let him use you like this just as he’s allowed you to cum multiple times before despite his clear order to hold back, but Nanami is a soft man at heart, unable to resist his precious lover when you’re trembling around him like that.

Nanami places a palm at the back of your head to prevent you getting fucked into the wall, his pace not slowing down a bit. He gazes at you under his lashes, cheeks hollowed and drool dribbling from the edges of your lips.

He finds you utterly filthy, a complete contrast to the well-put med-student who’s always admired and looked up to by their peers. Nanami groans as his tip hits the back of your throat, your nose pressing down on the neatly trimmed blond hairs brushed on his base. You gag around him, the tears crystallizing your cheeks. Filthy, yet still so pretty his little angel is, and for a moment, Nanami pauses, captivated by your beauty.

His cock is still pulsing inside your mouth, a thumb running across your tears to wipe them away. Nanami grabs your chin to tilt your head up, and he swears he could cum right then and there. You’re kneeling on the bleached floors, eyes wide with a tinge of innocence, tears collected in your lashes and cheeks sucked to take him in deep.

“Always so pretty for me, angel,” he coos, sliding his drenched cock out your mouth gruesomely slow, stopping only with the tip in. “Is my cock making you cry? You’ve taken me before, angel, this isn’t difficult for you now, is it?”

You hum around his cock as a response, and Nanami bucks into your mouth by accident, causing his length to slip past your walls until he’s right at your throat.

He’s big and long, his dick always having been a blessing to the both of you, but at this time, it feels more like a curse. Drips of cum paints the back of your mouth but you only grip your thigh harder, ignoring the painful throbbing of your cunt that’s so needy for him already. You remind yourself not to be selfish and focus on him instead, to your precious superior who needs you to help get his mind off things.

Eager to be of service as always, you swipe your tongue all over the ridges of his cock, making sure to press the wet muscle harder on the prominent veins. Nanami throws his head back to moan, his nails gently scraping your scalp with each thrust.

It’s hard to tell who’s setting the pace, but it becomes clear as you kneel there motionlessly, squeezing his ass instead while he relentlessly fucks your mouth. His groans are growing louder, breaths falling out of rhythm with each passing seconds. Your eyes are shut tight as you let him abuse your throat, hitting deep inside you with each precise thrust in addition to his balls slapping your chin.

Your face is sopping wet, both from drool, tears, and his cum. You stay there like a good girl, doing your best to breathe through your nose as he throbs inside you. Nanami’s words are garbled and incomprehensible, enticed to only snap his harder when he sees your tears streaming down your face and wetting your scrubs.

His length slips past inside your mouth into an impossibly deeper angle as he tugs your hair up, his knees bent just to continuously pummel against your tonsils as if it was his own winning goal. Your cries increase in volume at the way he’s losing himself in you, forgetting to watch the back of your head before he thrusts all the way, keeping you flat and frozen gagging on his cock, nose nudged against his hairs.

Nanami’s groan is accompanied by the twitching of his cock, and he cums, thick spurts of white shooting down your throat. You try to pull yourself away from him after that, thinking that he’s satisfied, but he only grips your hair harder as a warning.

Still struggling to breathe, you swallow around his thick saliva-drenched length, the mere motion of you gulping making your walls close down on him.

Nanami grunts at the oversensitivity and he pulls out, his dick growing boneless and soft.

He’s utterly spent, your drool and his cum dripping down to the floors in audible plaps. Nanami sighs as he takes sanitary wipes from the unused desk to wipe his dick clean, while you stay on the ground, palms flat beneath you as you pant for air.

You can tell you’ll have a sore throat by tomorrow because you utterly fucked, voice growing hoarse with each failed cough. Falling back onto the wall, you close your eyes, only to snap them open again when you feel something wet and warm rubbing your skin.

Nanami is in front of you, his touch gentle and eyes soft as he cleans your face, thumb absentmindedly cradling your bottom lip.

You don’t fight back the smile that matches his. Even after everything, Nanami is still your boyfriend, someone who isn’t just a good fuck to you anymore. This is only one of the reasons you’ve fallen so madly in love with him; his effortless ability to take care of others truly meritorious of him.

He dunks them into nearest bin and kisses you flat on the lips, his large hand cupping your cheeks. You sigh into the slow kiss, enjoying what little – and fleeting – time you have with him.

Nanami pulls away with a popping sound, a lovesick smile on his usually stoic expression. It makes you feel giddy and even a little shy, forgetting the fact he just fucked your skull seconds ago, but it’s rare that he lets his guard down anywhere that isn’t the comfort and safety of his home. You’re his home though, and he kisses you one last time, the gesture telling a thousand more words than he’s ever able to.

“Thank you,” he whispers, “I promise I’ll make it up to you when we’re both home.”

You don’t stop him once he finally leaves the room, his rushed footsteps to make it back to the operating room a signal for you to get back to work too. It’s already five am when you’ve made it back to your post, but instead of feeling tired, you’re a lot more energized compared to when you first got here.

Perhaps working overtime isn’t so bad after all, not when there’s always a promise you and Nanami are never leaving the bed for the free weekend.

You’ll just have to be patient.

[snackhobi]

pairing: taehyung x reader / word count: 13.3k / genre: fluff, friends to lovers, smut (NSFW, 18+)

summary: you’re used to being in love with taehyung. you’ve had a lot of time to get good at it, after all—by this point you’re the world’s expert at keeping your less-than-platonic feelings hidden from him, what with the amount of practice you’ve had.

but then he signs up for a massage therapy course, because apparently you can never catch a break.

or: the one where taehyung gives you a full body massage and then some.

warnings: sexually explicit content, massage with a happy ending (literally 🤧), cursing, edible massage oil/lube, fingering (f), unprotected sex (be safe when you have sex please), multiple orgasms (f), oral sex (m), cum swallowing, pet names, body worship?, brief mention of shower sex

a/n: I swear this was meant to be pwp. this was literally meant to just be pwp with some massage shenanigans. and then I blinked and it had become a soft 13k fic which honestly… kicked my ass quite a bit. but I hope you enjoy it!! thank you as always to @hobi-gif​ for beta reading this and encouraging me and putting up with me changing this multiple times, what would I do without your support miss hope?

--

Taehyung goes through a lot of different phases.

He just finds so many things interesting. Photography, art, art history, music, fashion, thrift shopping; heck, there was even the time he got weirdly into making tea and became some sort of connoisseur, going through the whole rigmarole of buying the loose leaves and weighing them out, checking the temperature of the water, brewing for a precisely measured amount of time.

You still remember the look on his face when you said it all tasted like hot leaf water to you.

Because, of course, as one of Taehyung’s best friends and his roommate, you’re inevitably swept up in everything he does. You’re used to the weirdly acrid smell of photo development fluid and how cold dark rooms can get. You use phrases like chiaroscuro and sfumato to describe the simplest things after listening to Taehyung do the same for so long. You’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve tripped over his saxophone case when he leaves it lying around the apartment. You regularly wear the baggy t-shirt with the face that Taehyung had painted on it—even if you still refer to it as the Squidward-House-Shirt despite the fact you know he was inspired by Basquiet and Schiele and not the Easter Island themed stone head that Squidward lives in.

You don’t mind getting dragged along with whatever he does, honestly; you don’t have time to attend every class, but go with him when you can. It’s always good to expand your horizons. You also love watching Tae’s face whenever he learns something new, the various expressions that flit across his features—from wide eyed excitement and eyebrow raising astonishment to the more solemn side that appears whenever he’s taking something in and thinking deeply about it, turning it over in his mind, mulling on it.

(You love watching Tae’s face all the time, actually, but that’s a whole other can of worms you’d rather keep shut.)

However, the latest course he’s signed up for is not one you’d been expecting.

“Massage therapy?” Your face twists in equal parts confusion and surprise.

Taehyung’s dropped this latest nugget of information while you’re cooking, trying to fry some rice while also peering at the phone screen that’s been thrust into your face. You’re not bad at multitasking, per se, but Taehyung’s iPhone is drifting so close that you’re almost cross-eyed and it’s blocking you from seeing what’s going on in the pan. 

“I had a coupon,” he says, as if that explains everything. (It doesn’t.)

“Scooch,” you say, and he immediately moves so you can turn the gas off.

“Jiminie and Jungkookie say that my massages help with dance, and that's just from Youtube tutorials.” Taehyung continues to talk as you bustle around the tiny kitchen. He’s already set the table so now he’s free to watch you finish doing the rest of the work. “And Joon-hyung says I have the perfect hands for it.”

You fumble with the pan as you’re scooping the steaming rice into a large bowl, only just managing to save food from scattering everywhere. You’ve thought about Taehyung’s hands a lot, about how large and long fingered and beautiful they are, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Really? Huh. That’s nice.” You stare at the pan, fixated on getting every grain of rice so you can avoid looking at Taehyung’s face. And hands. Which are still cupped around his phone. Which looks so small in his big, pretty grip.

Jesus Christ.

“It means I can give you massages if you ever start to get tense.” Taehyung sounds pleased, lovely grin on his face at the prospect of being able to rub his hands over you. As if that isn’t going to make every single one of your muscles lock up and turn you into some sort of coiled rope of a human being, which is the complete opposite of what a massage is supposed to achieve. 

“Great.” Despite your inner turmoil, your voice is level and steady as you meticulously scrape the last grain of rice into the bowl, chasing the tiny fleck of white around the huge pan. Scrape, scrape, scrape. “Sounds fabulous. Can’t wait.”

Of course Taehyung would sign up to learn something that he could use to help his friends. He’s so big-hearted and loving. Big-hearted and loving and kind and funny and affectionate and beautiful and deep-voiced and so entirely overwhelming in every single way imaginable. 

You do what you always do when confronted yet again with your all-consuming crush—you bottle that shit the fuck up until he’s not in the room.

And then you have a miniature breakdown at Pickles.

“I am going to die,” you whisper-scream. “He’s going to offer to massage me and he’s going to get a bottle of massage oil out and he’s going drizzle it onto his massive hands and I am going to fucking die.”

The bearded dragon cocks his head as he stares at you. Taehyung had come home with the reptile one day, tank and all, saying that someone on Facebook had been giving him away because they were moving house and could they just look after him for a little while, please, pretty please? Until they found a good home for him? Please?

That was over a year ago. (You’ve always been bad at saying no to Taehyung.)

“I hate my life,” you lament to the lizard, but then you hear the noisy flush of the toilet and know that Taehyung is going to emerge from the bathroom soon, so you have to wrap this miniature meltdown up pronto. “I wish I was a bearded dragon too, you know. All you do is get fed and sit under the heat bulb. Your life is so easy. You don’t even know what capitalism is.”

The silence you get from Pickles is far more support than you get from your human friends once you tell them. Yoongi just raises his eyebrows while Seokjin and Hoseok laugh outright in your face, just like they always do when you cry to them about Taehyung.

You need new friends. These ones are defective. (If only you’d kept the receipt so you could return them.)

“We learned how to do neck and shoulder massages today!” Taehyung says brightly after the first session.

You hum in response. You’re rewatching Pacific Rim together, cuddled up against Taehyung’s side, and you don’t have to turn your head to know what expression is on his face. There’ll be that little upturn to his lips, happiness at learning something new. That warmth in his eyes at being able to share it with you, even if you couldn't be there with him. Those little freckles on his face, under his eye, his nose, his lip; the one you’ve imagined kissing more times than you can count.

���My teacher says I have a natural talent with my hands,” he adds, and you’re so grateful that you can blame your sudden intake of breath on the scene that’s playing on the screen, as high stakes as it is. 

“That’s nice,” you say, and mentally pat yourself on the back at keeping the strain out of your voice. You've had a lot of practice at this. “I’m not surprised, though. You’ve always been good at doing things with them.”

That’s not a euphemism. Taehyung’s always so careful when he makes things; you’d learned how to fold different origami patterns together, matching crane for crane, lotus for lotus, and he’d always been so delicate with his fingers. He’s always so careful and considerate with you, too, fingers splayed wide across your shoulder as he squeezes you closer to his side, leaving you breathless.

“I wish you could come too.” Taehyung sounds disappointed. “We always have so much fun together.”

For the first time in your life you’re grateful that your manager at Olive Chicken is such a hardass and won’t let you swap shifts, so you’d had to miss signing up for the massage course with Taehyung—because you know there’s no way you’d be able to keep it together if there was some sort of tandem practice in class or whatever. Your crush on him is filled with equal parts of tenderness and lust and you’re well aware of that. You’d rest your hands on the soft skin of Taehyung’s shoulders and back, the lust would overwhelm you, and you’d immediately burst into flames like some sort of demon stepping over the threshold of a church. 

Why oh why did God have to make Kim Taehyung so hot?

Why oh why did God have to make you so… not?

You know Taehyung doesn’t see you in a romantic light at all. You’re grateful for this deep, platonic relationship you have, and you love him to pieces, but holy hell is it hard to walk around with Kim Taehyung looking the way he does and wanting to jump his bones while simultaneously being aware that it’s never going to happen. Whenever he smiles at you, or touches you, or holds you, it’s in exactly the same way as he treats any of his friends—and as happy as you are to be one of those friends, it also kind of kills you inside. 

(Because you know you don’t have a chance, have never had a chance, and will never have a chance.)

The idea of offering to massage Taehyung is one that makes you want to melt into a puddle of horny goo. But when he offers to massage you, it’s because you’re a convenient practice partner who he’s comfortable with. It’s no big deal. You could strip naked and slather yourself up in oil and stand in front of him with your bosoms heaving and say ‘Have at me, big boy’ and Taehyung would say: ‘Sweet! A chance to practice deep tissue massage! Gee, thanks for being such a great pal!’

The kind of deep tissue you want Taehyung to massage is very different to whatever he’s talking about.

… Anyway.

You manage to avoid Taehyung using his apparently magic fingers on you for a surprising amount of time, though you’re kept up to date with his progress, because he shares everything with you and tells you about everything and you always, always listen. Because, more than being your crush, he’s one of your best friends and you love him.

Which is why you try your best to be gentle, graciously refusing his offer of a shoulder massage after he sees you wincing, even if with anyone else you’d just tell them to back off with zero hesitation.

“It’s fine,” you say, flapping a hand at him. “I just slept on it funny.”

“A massage would help! It won’t take long, I promise. Five minutes? Please?” 

Taehyung’s looking at you with those big puppy eyes of his, pleading. You waver. You’re torn between being steadfast and avoiding a situation you’ve literally had nightmares about (Taehyung had offered to massage you, and you’d said yes, but then you’d fallen over as you were walking to him and suddenly a lasagne had appeared in your hands and you’d spilled it all down your shirt and he’d pointed and laughed and laughed and you’d felt so embarrassed that you’d woken up, cheeks burning), but then he pouts and you give in like the spineless and lovesick fool that you are.

“Five minutes,” you say, and Taehyung nods emphatically, looking pleased.

(You have the backbone of a chocolate éclair.)

You send quiet thanks to whatever God is listening when he doesn’t ask you to take your top off and doesn’t break out a bottle of scented oil. Instead he just asks for you to straddle a chair, clutching a plushie against your chest to cushion where it leans against the backrest, and tells you to get comfy.

“Just relax,” he says, as you desperately try to remember how your body works and coax it to relax like Taehyung wants you to. You fail miserably. You feel like a ball of rubber bands, each muscle a layer of tighter and tighter elastic that’s circled around you. “Lean forwards a little?”

At least Taehyung can’t see your face from this angle. You have no idea what sort of expression is twisting your features; consternation and horrified anticipation, probably. You're basically throttling your plushie, taking out your tension and frustration on the poor thing, Rilakkuma's placid face morphing into a twisted expression of sympathy under your grasping fingers.

“Perfect,” Taehyung says. The sound of praise in his deep voice has your insides turning into overheated syrup, hot and thick, dripping down and pooling between your legs. You hate yourself. Getting turned on by the most innocuous words from your best friend, really? Get it together.

The second you feel Taehyung's warm hands touch the back of your neck, your shoulders hunch up faster than a whiplash, a turtle sucking its head into its shell. Your friend laughs.

“This is the opposite of relaxing,” he says, voice warm with amusement. 

“You surprised me.” You dig your nails into Rilakkuma's soft brown fur. Taehyung just thinks you're not used to being massaged, not that you're being weird because it's him that's touching you. Because he touches you a lot. He’s just never done it like this. “Sorry.”

“It's fine,” he replies, unruffled and oblivious. “Let me try again?”

You bite your lip, desperately trying to quell the mix of arousal and tension that’s churning in your stomach, begging your muscles to unwind. You’ve kept your crush a secret from him for this long, you can keep that energy up. (You have to keep that energy up.) “Um. Okay.”

You’re still tense when Taehyung puts his hands on you again. The touch is warm through your clothes, firm but careful, digging into the sharp line of tension laid across your shoulders; despite the way your heart is threatening to launch itself out of your chest, you start to loosen up, because holy shit that feels nice, actually.

You melt against Rilakkuma and smother the bear's face in your chest. “Your teacher wasn’t kidding when they said that you’re good with your hands,” you mumble. 

You’ve never gotten a proper massage before but it feels so damn good that you can’t help but unwind, turning to jelly at the confident presses of Taehyung’s fingers and palms into the soft skin between your neck and shoulder. A little sigh spills past your lips when Taehyung starts to work at the part that’s been twinging after you lay crookedly on it, limbs akimbo in your sleep after a long night at work. “Oh, right there, Tae.”

Taehyung goes still for just a second before continuing, trailing his fingers over your shirt. “Here?”

Your eyes have drifted shut so you can focus on the sensation of that tension being pulled out of your body. “Yeah, right there,” you repeat, massaged into a state of lazy euphoria. The breath you let out is long and deep, catching in the back of your throat at a particularly firm rub of Taehyung’s hands; if you weren’t so blissed out you might be embarrassed at how much the noise you make is like a moan, but as it is, you don’t even notice. You just let out a little sound of discontent when Taehyung’s fingers stutter in their motions, displeased that he’s stopped even for a second.

By the time the massage is over, you’re so relaxed that you feel like you could melt into the floor, a wobbly puddle of unwound muscles and loose limbs. It’s official. You’re a massage convert.

“Holy shit.” Your eyes flutter open as you lean away from Rilakkuma so you can turn around. They’re the first coherent words you’ve spoken for a while; small sighs and sounds have been dripping from your lips and it’s only now that you’re able to regain your breath. “Tae, that was amazin—”

You’re met with the sight of Taehyung’s back as he power walks away, steps rapid, a little shaky, awkward. Before you can ask what’s wrong, he’s stepping into the bathroom. 

“I need to wash my hands,” he says without looking at you, before the door slams shut.

You don’t remember Tae telling you about how quickly you have to wash your hands after finishing a massage. But, thinking about it, you suppose it makes sense—you know, with massaging multiple clients or whatever—even if it’s surprising exactly how fast he’d hoofed it away from you. It sounds like he’s switched both taps on full blast as well, noisy even through the wooden door, and judging from how long he’s in there, he’s being very thorough. Hand washing must be a lot more important than you’d realised. 

Once Taehyung emerges, his face is a little flushed, cheeks a soft red. You wonder if the hot water tap is playing up again and filling your dinky bathroom with hot steam, and make a mental note to look into it. You smile at Taehyung from your perch on the sofa, Rilakkuma plopped on your lap, smile spread across your features; one that Taehyung returns, as pink-faced as he is.

“How’s your shoulder feeling?”

“So much better, honestly,” you admit. It’s incredible. He hasn’t even finished the course yet and he's already this good. He really does have magic hands.

“I’ll have to give you massages more often,” Taehyung says, though the end of the sentence trembles a little. He must be light-headed after all the steam in the bathroom.

The thought of more massages doesn’t fill you with as much mind-numbing trepidation as it might have earlier, utterly languid as you flop across the sofa, muscles uncoiled after the lovely touch of Taehyung’s even lovelier hands. No wonder people rave about spa days if they leave you feeling like this. Maybe if you’d been staring at Taehyung in the eye when he’d been touching you, then you’d feel a lot more awkward—as it is, it’s no worse than usual. Your crush is still all-encompassing but you also got a massage out of it, so.

“Sounds great.” This time you don’t even have to fake your excitement. “Now come sit your butt down so we can order some takeout and decide what to watch.”

When you bend down to speak to Pickles later, the bearded dragon is lolling on his favourite branch. “There’s still a high chance that I’m going to die,” you say in a low voice, before you flick the lights off so the lizard can sleep. “But he hasn’t broken out the oils yet, so I think I’ll be okay for now.”

--

Your luck doesn’t last.

“Strawberry and champagne, lychee martini, mint mojito, white chocolate, or tropical coconut?”

You look up from where you’re painting your toenails. “Huh?”

Taehyung bundles into the room and throws himself onto your bed, flopping on his belly and ignoring the way the mattress is jostled. You, of course, are used to his antics, which is why you’d swept your open bottle of nail polish up before he could spill it everywhere.

“What do you think sounds best?”

“Well, that depends,” you say, squinting at your toes and carefully sweeping the polish over the freshly buffed nails. “For candles, I think they sound pretty nice. For sauces to pour over a steak, I’d say I’d give them all a hard pass. What’s it for?”

“Massage oils,” Taehyung says blithely, too busy staring at his phone to see you muffle a curse when your hand slips and you paint your entire little toe blue. “I was wondering which you think sounds best.”

“Oh. Uh.” You fumble to clean your toe and salvage the now-terrible pedicure you’re trying to give yourself. It was only a matter of time before massage oils were going to become part of your life. Taehyung never goes into things half-hearted, so of course he’s going to invest in oils, too. God’s sake. You can never catch a break, can you? “Why these ones in particular?”

Taehyung pauses for a suspiciously long time, but it gives you the chance to furiously rub at your toe while he’s distracted. “We get a free bottle from the course,” he says eventually.

Huh. Okay. “That’s pretty neat. What was the last one? Coconut? Stick with the basics, can’t go wrong with that, right?”

“Coconut is always tasty,” Taehyung comments absently, and you glance up from your Smurf toe.

“Agreed, but it’s not like you’re about to eat massage oil, are you?”

Taehyung pauses, and then buries his face into his phone screen—suddenly very intent on rereading the list of ingredients in each bottle, it seems. “No, of course not, you’re right,” he mumbles.

He’s almost finished the course. He’s not going to be an accredited masseuse or anything, but you definitely think he could be, if he wanted to—you’ve never had less tension in your shoulders and neck in your life. Taehyung always eases his way into your personal space anyway, casual and effortless after years of friendship, but now you’re used to his fingers sliding over the back of your neck, a gliding touch, sending tense little goosebumps over your skin while simultaneously making you melt. 

“It’s pretty cool that you get free stuff, though.” Your toe is clean, thankfully, no longer blue. “And not just, like, a generic bottle of oil or something. They all sound really fancy. I didn’t realise that you could get massage oils that were scented like that?”

Taehyung makes a non-committal noise, which is uncharacteristic of him, but you’re too focused on repainting your final nail to pay it too much mind, letting out a loud huff of triumph when you’re done.

“Get me a bag of shrimp crackers, please?” You have a sudden craving but you don’t want to penguin waddle to the kitchen and risk getting anything on your wet nails. “Ya girl is hungry.”

“Got it.” Taehyung rolls off the bed without protest. You’re used to his antics, and he’s used to yours, indulging you whenever you feel lazy or want him to do something for you. “You need me to feed you?”

“I wasn’t going to use my toes to feed myself,” you laugh, but Taehyung ends up feeding them to you anyway.

When you recount the list to Seokjin later, his face crumples in a way that’s equal parts offended and disgusted. “They all sound terrible,” he says. “White chocolate should stay in chocolate form and not be turned into an oil. Why does massage oil even have to smell like anything?”

You’re both holed up in the tiny smoking nook behind Olive Chicken; neither of you smoke, but it’s a good excuse to go outside and get fresh air during longer shifts. 

“Hey, don’t ask me, I’m not the one who’s taking the course. I think lychee martini sounds interesting, though.”

“Agree to disagree.” Seokjin unwraps one of the complimentary chocolates the restaurant gives to diners with their bill, swallowing it whole. “Besides, we all know Taehyung could approach you with dirty, used fryer oil and you’d let him dip you in it.”

You slap the next chocolate out of his hand before it reaches his mouth. He’s unmoved and simply plucks another from his pocket, which is apparently bulging with them.

“Yoongichi,” Jin says, calling to the delivery boy, who’s just appeared from the dark like some tired-eyed spectre of fried chicken. “Tell me this. If I were to ask you what smell of massage oil you’d prefer, what—”

“I would say that I really could not care less.” Yoongi flops down on one of the rickety fold-out chairs before silently accepting a chocolate from Seokjin’s stash. “And then I’d ask why you’re asking me in the first place, seeing as you’re the one using it, not me. If Taehyung’s asking what massage oil you’d prefer, Y/n, it’s because he wants to rub it all over you specifically.” Yoongi munches on the chocolate, already filling in the blanks without needing to be told the context. You really are that transparent, huh. “Please, we’ve been over this.”

Jin pouts. “You ruined my set up. I had a whole speech prepared.”

“Oh no.” Yoongi remains blank-faced. “How terrible.”

“I hate both of you,” you say. “I’m going to tell Pickles how mean you are.”

“I bet if that lizard could talk, he’d tell you how tired he was of you two dancing around each other, just like the rest of us,” Yoongi says.

There’s no dancing around, though, no matter what your friends say. Well. Not on Taehyung’s end anyway. You’re out here doing the fandango, castanets and all, while Taehyung just stands stock still, oblivious.

You let out an incredibly long sigh. Seokjin hands you a sympathetic chocolate.

The massage oil doesn’t make an appearance in your life for a little while, though. The end of the course comes and goes, Taehyung proudly flapping the laminated certificate at you, wobble-wobble-wobble, filling the apartment with the sound of rippling plastic. But no coconut oil.

The scent of ‘tropical coconut’ has started to haunt your dreams, in a way that’s both good and bad; when you wake up in a sweat, heart pounding, it’s not because you’re having nightmares, let’s just put it like that. It’s like there’s an invisible countdown that you can’t trace and it’s only a matter of time before it ticks over and the shoulder massages (that you’ve gotten very comfortable with) edge into something different. Taehyung’s going to innocently offer to give you a backrub and uncap that bottle of scented oil and you’re going to explode into a mess of putty under his hands.

Well… then again… you had been worried about that with all the shoulder rubs. Now look at you. You weather those like a champ. Sure, your skin tingles and you run hot and you think about the sensation of Taehyung’s hands gliding over you whenever you’re alone, but you’re basically fine. Your friend who just so happens to also be the great love of your life remains none the wiser.

You bet a full back rub would feel great after a long week.

Which is why when Taehyung steps into the apartment with a look on his face that you immediately recognise as tiredness, you sort of wish you knew how to massage people, too.

He falls into your arms with little fanfare. It’s been one of those days, one of those ones that everyone gets, even Taehyung—he’s usually so Switched On and Exuberant and Alive, and people don’t seem to realise that even he feels exhausted, sometimes.

“You alright, bubs?” You can’t massage him but you can rub his back soothingly, let him snuffle against your neck. Sometimes you think about that little space between your chin and collarbones as Taehyung’s, a hollow that’s perfect for him to press his face into, hair tickling your chin as he curls up into you. His and his alone. “Did something happen?”

He just shakes his head.

“Okay,” you say.

(Close proximity and skin on skin with Taehyung doesn’t always have your pulse rising and your heart racing. Sometimes it’s just this: quiet and soft, your heart bright with fierce affection for this boy, the only thought in your mind that you want him to be happy, forever.)

The long silence is broken by the sound of Taehyung heaving in a breath before letting out a long, exhausted sigh. 

“Thank you.” His voice is quiet and low, far less energetic than his usual self.

“Nothing to thank me for, Tae,” you reply. “Always here for you. You know that, right?”

He doesn’t respond straight away. He just burrows closer, draped over you, until he murmurs, barely audible. “Why?”

Your face twists. “Why, what? Why am I always here for you?”

“Yeah.” Taehyung squeezes himself impossibly closer, skin warm against yours, forehead pressed to the skin of your neck. You can’t see his expression from this angle.

“Because you’re one of my best friends and I love you,” you answer, immediately. You don’t even have to think about it. “Because you’re important to me and if there’s anything I can do for you, I will. I’ll celebrate the good things in your life with you, and I’ll be at your side during the bad times, just like you are with me. Please don’t ever forget how much I love you, okay?”

There’s a pause, and then it feels like all the tension leaves Taehyung’s body, slumping his whole body weight against you. “Okay,” he murmurs. “I love you too. Thank you,” he says again. You just reply by squeezing his shoulders.

He’s a little quieter for a few days after that. You’re not sure why, because he’d perked up after a lazy evening of lying around and eating too many snacks, flopped against you like an oversized, clinging starfish—but you’re gentle with him nonetheless. 

(Well. You’re always gentle with him. It just takes you half a second to fold in the face of his whims, rather than a whole, full second.)

So when the dreaded bottle of oil finally appears, you’re far less ready to fight off Taehyung’s insistence on a full body massage, caught off guard after days of indulging him. Fuck. 

“You’ve had a long week!” Taehyung insists as you scrabble your way over the sofa’s backrest so you can hide behind it, clutching a cushion to your chest. “You need to relax!”

Without looking you fling the cushion over the sofa. Judging from the fact that Taehyung doesn’t make a sound, you’ve missed. “I was feeling perfectly relaxed until you started yelling at me about it! Why are you so obsessed with the idea of me being relaxed?”

Taehyung doesn’t respond. Oh, crap. Maybe you did hit him with the cushion?

You pop up from behind the sofa. Nope. It's an embarrassing distance away from Taehyung, who’s got that surprisingly large bottle of oil held loosely in his hands. There’s an expression on his face that you can’t decipher; a little crestfallen, a little unsure, but there’s something else there, too, something you can’t put a name to.

“Taehyung?”

“I just… wanted to help,” he says. “You’re always there for me when I’m not feeling great, and you calm me down, and I wanted to do the same for you.”

You immediately feel like the worst human being alive. Take the feeling you get whenever you accidentally step on an animal’s tail, multiply it by infinity, and that’s only just a drop in the ocean of awful, awful guilt that you’re drowning in. 

“Oh, Tae,” you say. Your voice comes out so much softer and sweeter than you mean it to, but you can't help it. “I’m sorry. I was just joking. It’s really nice of you to be so concerned. You just surprised me. You do help me relax and your massages are great.” (You tell him that often enough that he should know it, but it never hurts to repeat a compliment.)

His face lifts. It’s like the sun bursting forth from the clouds after heavy rain, and you have to resist the urge to shield your eyes, blinded by the brightness and beauty. Kim Taehyung is so unfairly gorgeous (but what else is new?). “So I can give you a massage?”

Despite the fact the prospect makes you want to fling yourself into space, when you’re faced with Taehyung’s dark eyes and wide smile and large, warm hands, you cave, because of course you do. If, way back when you’d first been frying up that kimchi rice and letting Taehyung thrust his phone into your face, you’d been told you’d end up in this position, you would have laughed outright. Haha, yeah, sure, like you’d be stupid enough to let yourself be wrangled into such a vulnerable state in front of Taehyung, nowhere to run, helpless under his fingers. Not.

But here you are. Whipped for Kim Taehyung, forever and always.

The pastel blue towels under your stomach and chest are soft as they shield you from the cold, hard floor. You’re incredibly aware of how chilly the apartment feels, air prickling against your bare skin; you shift to try and get comfortable, glancing over your shoulder to fiddle with the towel that’s draped over your hips and ass, making sure it’s covering everything. Taehyung insists on authenticity (as if you’re not lying on the floor of your apartment rather than on a massage table) and he says that it’s normal to be completely naked for a full-body massage, even underneath any towels that are covering you up.

Authenticity is also why he’s in the other room, warming up the massage oil, because that’s apparently a thing?

(You’re going to die.)

It doesn’t matter that Taehyung will only be able to see the back of your head, your shoulder blades, the small of your back, a slip of your thighs, your calves. None of these things are especially scandalous; all the parts of your body that someone might find more interesting are out of sight, pressed against the floor or hidden under a layer of Egyptian cotton microfibres. 

And yet you can’t help but be hyperaware of how you’re entirely unclothed. Even if it doesn’t bother Taehyung—what with, you know, the fact he’s not interested in you like that and doesn’t find you attractive at all (sigh)—embarrassment creeps hot and uncomfortable under your skin.

It just feels so crazy intimate to be laid out like this, even if people do this all the time, happily strip down to let professionals rub the tension out of their body. 

(Then again, most people aren’t best friends with their masseuses and haven’t harboured long, one-sided crushes on them, either.)

Just breathe. You can do this. You love the shoulder massages that Taehyung’s been giving you; just think of this as a shoulder massage. 

… A shoulder massage that involves warm oil, near-nakedness, and Taehyung’s hands sliding all over you.

… You are going to have a very long venting session with Pickles after all this.

You’re so distracted by your own self pity and distress that you don’t register the sound of Taehyung entering the room; the little pause when he steps over the threshold, feet stuttering, just for a moment. It’s only when he’s kneeling down that you notice his presence, body jolting from surprise before you let out a slip of high laughter.

“Jesus, Tae,” you say. In any other circumstance, you’d be clutching your chest. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He sounds genuinely apologetic.

Your cheek is pillowed on your arms. When you turn to look at your best friend you immediately regret it; he’s settled back on his ankles, knees spread wide, and you come eye-to-eye with his crotch.

In an effort to look away from his clothed dick, your gaze flies up to his face, which might be even worse. He has this intense look in his eyes, and wow, alright, you’ve never been able to see Taehyung’s face as he’s been massaging you, but you never realised exactly how seriously he seems to take it, judging from his expression.

(Do all massage therapists look like that when they work?)

“That’s alright.” You’re a little breathless, but you’re going to blame that on how your boobs are smooshed into the floor, and not on anything else, nuh uh. Shoulder massage. It’s a shoulder massage. It’s just like a full bodied shoulder massage. (Maybe if you repeat it to yourself often enough then you’ll actually start to believe it.) “Uh. Do you need me to… do anything? Or do I just lie here?”

Taehyung’s expression lightens a little at the uncertainty in your tone, smile curling up the corners of his mouth. “You’re perfect right where you are,” he says, and then he reaches for the bottle of oil.

You turn your head away again, cheeks burning. There’s no way you’ll be able to handle the visual of him slicking his fingers and palms up. “Cool,” you say, voice only a little strained. “Coolcoolcoolcool.”

(It’s not cool.)

You don’t have a visual, but you do get the auditory experience thanks to the relative silence in the apartment. Goosebumps ripple down the back of your neck and trail down your spine at the sound of Tae’s hands sliding against each other, thoroughly coated in the warmed oil, and you’re so glad that you can blame it on the chill in the air.

At first, it’s okay. Taehyung starts at the parts of your body that are used to receiving his attention, though it’s different without the barrier of clothing in the way, not to mention how easily his palms glide over you, the air full of the light scent of coconut. It’s different, but manageable, and you think you just might be okay; as always, his touches are firm but careful, and your body is used to this by now, relaxing.

But. The second you feel Taehyung’s touch between your shoulder blades, you stiffen with a shiver. The oil is the perfect temperature against your skin, but you’ve always had a sensitive back; you can’t help but clench your fists, digging your fingers into your palms. Relax. Just breathe. 

“You’ve got a lot of tension here.” Taehyung’s voice is low as he digs the heel of his palm into the dip of your spine.

It’s because you’re touching me there, you think to yourself, but just let out a non-committal hum of agreement instead. 

You feel Taehyung's hands, a repeated sliding motion between your shoulder blades; the tension starts to leak out of you again, but your breath hitches in your throat at how you're pressed downwards and into the cotton towels beneath you, nipples hardening against them.

Thank God you're on your front so Tae can't see what effect he's having on you.

“Better?”

Taehyung's voice is always deep, but you'd swear it was even deeper in this moment, pitched low. Maybe that’s because the sound of blood pumping is filling your ears so it’s hard to discern. At this point, who even knows? Not you, that’s for sure.

“Yep.” Why are you so breathless? You haven’t moved at all, but you sound like you’ve just run the 100m sprint, winded and weak. “So much better.”

You regret agreeing to this. You are so out of your depth and there’s no way you’re going to be able to hide exactly how much this is affecting you and you want to collapse in on yourself and shrivel up like a sundried tomato, tiny and wrinkly and underwhelming. 

Taehyung shifts to reach more of you and you squeeze your eyes shut so you don’t come face first with his crotch again, shielding yourself from the view of his loose linen trousers stretched almost taut with how wide his knees are. It’s both a blessing and a curse—a blessing because you’re saved from aforementioned view, but a curse because your sensation of touch is heightened, and all you’re aware of is his hands sliding down your sides. You’d swear those fingers were so long he could circle your waist with ease.

(Massages are meant to relax you and yet you’ve never felt so tense in your life.)

Taehyung clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth. “I can’t get a good angle like this,” he mutters.

Before you can think anything or say anything, you become aware of the sound of moving and shifting and—

Your eyes fly open. Taehyung’s straddling your thighs, heavy and warm, and you suck in a breath so sharp and fast you can feel your chest expand, brain full of the screaming clang of warning bells. There’s no way this is a normal masseuse thing. There’s no way. It’s intimate and entirely too physical and there’s absolutely no way that this is something Taehyung learned in class. 

(What is he doing?)

But then any coherent thought in your brain slips when his hands settle on you again.

They so, so lightly brush the hem of the towel that preserves your modesty, and you can’t help the full-body shiver that wracks through you. You suck your lips into your mouth, swallowing down the noise that threatens to bubble up in your throat. There’s the sensation of fingers trailing up the line of your spine, feather light, smoothed by the slide of oil, and you feel like molten lava, burning hot and bright.

“Taehyung.” Your voice is high and faint.

His fingers splay down your ribcage and run down your sides, confident and smooth, warm with that coconut-scented oil, and you’re dying, you’re living; you want to disappear, you never want this to end. 

“Taehyung,” you repeat. Your voice shakes.

He hums, low and indulgent. “Yes?”

“M-my thighs,” you stammer, unable to articulate yourself. Why are you on my thighs, oh God, you’re so warm and heavy on top of me, oh God oh God oh God.

Taehyung completely misunderstands you. “Oh? Of course.” He sounds nonchalant. “I’ll massage those next.”

You can feel the drag of his linen trousers against your skin as he moves down to rest on your calves, and hear the bottle open as Taehyung drizzles more oil over his hands, far more than he could possibly need. His palms feel so broad and warm against the smoothness of your thighs, touches firm and confident as he digs his fingers into the muscle, and, oh, fuck, this is, this is too much—

Your legs jump when Taehyung hitches the towel up, just a little, baring more of your body.

“Fuck.” You can't keep quiet any longer. “Tae, I’m fine, I’m feeling way less tense now.”

He’s still, for a moment, before his hands slide up the back of your thighs. “Are you sure? You want me to stop?”

It’s only then that you realise how deeply Taehyung is breathing, fast and low, voice rough and gravelled. His fingers rest in wait, warm and slick with oil; you’re so close to losing any modicum of modesty, only one motion away from that towel being rucked high enough that there’s nothing protecting you from Taehyung’s touch and eyes.

“I haven’t finished yet, though,” he continues, digging his thumbs into your skin as he pulls his hands down your thighs, mindlessly following the motions he’s been taught. “There’s still more to go.”

You could twist around to look at him but you’re almost afraid to look at his face, afraid of what you’d find there. He sounds as affected as you are, but there’s absolutely no way. There’s no way.

“You don’t need to do the whole massage if I’m feeling relaxed, right?” 

(Because you’re feeling so relaxed right now, of course, and not like you’re about to go supernova and burst into heat and light. Absolutely.)

(But.)

(But. Taehyung’s hands settle at the back of your knees, swiping the sensitive skin with his thumbs. You can’t see his face, but you can feel something in that touch, something more than skin deep, like it’s sinking into you, through skin and muscle and bone, in in in, settling inside you, a flicker of—of—)

“Want to do this perfectly for you,” he murmurs. You clench your hands at the husky note in his voice, nails digging so hard into your palms it hurts. “You deserve the best. I want you to feel good.”

He must be able to see your back rise and fall as you breathe in sharply.

“Taehyung.” Almost pleading. 

“Yes, love?”

You suck in another sharp breath. The pet name sounds so soft and sweet in his mouth, somehow, even with the heated edge to his voice. One that’s definitely there. You’re not imagining it. 

(You’re not.)

“Do you want me to make you feel good?” he continues.

Before you can think, you nod.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Please.”

You’re trembling. Taehyung’s still heavy and warm across the back of your calves, sliding one hand to the inside of a knee and up the soft skin of your inner thighs. You instinctively shift them apart, as far as you can with Taehyung trapping your legs, and, oh, his hand is going higher, oh—

His hand is so big, cupping your overheated sex. It’s hard to tell where the oil ends and your own arousal begins, flushed wet and hot; when he dips his middle finger between your lower lips, long and gentle and firm, you let out a noise you didn’t realise you were capable of. The angle is off, a little awkward, the motions of Taehyung’s fingers stifled by how you’re lying flush to the ground, but God, you’re so turned on it barely matters.

You’re hyperaware of everything. The soft touch of air on the cooling oil across your skin. The fall of the towel, bunched around your waist, slowly slipping to one side. Taehyung’s hand, his fingertips easing through the heat of you, sliding over your clit, over your entrance, slow and soft and amazing. 

“Again,” you plead. “Again, Tae, please.”

“Feels good?” He asks, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you nod, cheek still pillowed against your arm.

“So good,” you say. “But I want more, please, Tae.”

“Anything you want,” he murmurs.

Taehyung’s hand shifts between your legs again, so hot, so big, so reverent. The slide is smooth as his fingers press into your folds, practically gliding. You twist beneath him, letting out a noise of displeasure when he draws his hand away, but then he lifts off your calves. You let him thrust your legs apart before he resettles between them.

Just as you’re distracted with the towel being tugged away from your hips, baring you entirely, Taehyung slides a finger into your weeping cunt.

You whine. It's so long. Now that your calves aren’t trapped, there’s nothing to stop you from rutting back against his fingers. He splays his other hand over the soft flesh of your ass, encouraging the rolling motion of your hips, and you’re gasping, wanton in your noises of desire and pleasure. One finger becomes two, and then three, Taehyung’s voice a low undercurrent to your stuttered moans as he presses them as deep as he can.

“Just like that, angel,” he breathes. “Want you to feel good, keep making those pretty noises, let me know how good it is—”

“Taehyung,” you whine, dragging the syllables of his name out when he curls his fingers inside you, so amazing, hitting you in all the right places.

“Baby.” He sounds wrecked, words sliding together, and you haven’t even touched him yet. “You’re so hot n’ wet, fuck. So perfect. Just like that, keep moving like that.”

You can hear the slick sounds of his thrusts into you. He’s already learned what you like, twisting his fingers in a way that leaves you breathless; they’re so fucking long, sliding into your greedy cunt with ease, reaching so much deeper than your own can. His pretty lovely hands are on you, inside you, and you’re heady at the thought.

“There, Tae, don’t stop, please, p-please.” The coil twists tighter in between your legs, a taut thread that’s ready to snap. He listens, repeating the motion that’s pulling you closer to the edge, eyes wide, staring at the way you’re writhing underneath him; the way the oil on your back and legs shimmers in the light, the evidence of his touch all over you, shining. “Tae, oh, God, right there, yes, yes, yes—”

Your entire body goes tense and then you’re cumming around Taehyung’s fingers, clenching your thighs together, trapping him inside as you buck your hips. You grind back against his hand, a loud moan falling from your lips, drowning out the noise of awe that Taehyung makes when he feels your walls pulsate around him. You're warm and tight and wet, arousal flooding thick against his skin, and he lets out a stuttered groan, fingers buried knuckle deep inside you, feeling every wave of pleasure that rocks through your core.

You’re panting by the time you settle back down and barely make a sound when Taehyung drags his fingers out of you. When he leans down the oil on your skin feels tacky against his clothes, material sticking to you, chest to back, hips to ass. You can feel the hot curve of him through his trousers, his cock heavy, getting harder—and it feels sososo good.

Taehyung’s face is so close, now, chin hooked over your shoulder. Even though you can feel the hardness of his cock pressed against you, the smile on his face is so gentle. Your heart thrums in your chest.

“So cute n' pretty,” he says, and presses his nose to the soft curve of your cheek. Rather than coconut, all you can smell is his shampoo, familiar and homely and heady. “All over. God, I can’t believe you’d let me touch you like this. I’m so lucky. Was that good, baby?”

“Yes,” you say, and then, because you’re still floating in a light haze of disbelief: “I’m the lucky one.” 

Taehyung laughs, low and quiet. It’s a honeyed moment, dripping slow and sweet, even sweeter when he tilts his head forward. His lips are soft against your cheekbone, your jaw, and when you turn towards him, they’re even softer against your mouth. You can feel the shape of his smile, and it tastes so bright, small kisses that turn open mouthed, so perfect. Because you’re kissing Kim Taehyung, your Taehyung, something you’ve been dreaming about for so long, now—even if this entire situation is pretty unbelievable, honestly.

When you pull back, his eyes spark with unadulterated joy. He’s warm and heavy, pinning you down against the towels that are soft against your front; arching your spine, you lean back against the weight of Taehyung’s body, his cock fattening up through the layers of clothes that separate you. He lets out a breath of surprise before he grinds down, pressing that hard heat against you, and your cunt clenches.

“Can I finish the massage?” He asks, sounding almost eager, even with the rasp of lust in his voice. You can’t help but laugh, an affectionate giggle that has you knocking your foreheads together.

“Of course,” you say, and he catches your lips again, swallowing the last of your laughter, sweeping his tongue over your lips, inside your mouth, wet and hot and a little messy, but good. 

“You need to be on your back,” Taehyung continues, slow after the kiss is broken, and, oh, okay, that has you shivering. “If you want to?”

Of course you want to.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Let me move.”

He shifts to give you room, but not before pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, the bump of the top of your spine, lips sliding against the oil that he’d rubbed there earlier, goosebumps erupting over your skin.

“So good to me,” he whispers. You don’t think he even means for you to hear it. 

(It’s said without thought; not thoughtless, no, but a soft little thing that says so much. A thought that’s slipped across his mind and fallen from his lips, warm and tender. Like you’re always good to him, and he sees it, he knows it, he feels it, he thinks it, and he’s almost in disbelief about it, because you’re so good to him.)

You feel warm and languid after cumming, loose-limbed as you flop onto your back. There’s no going back now. There’s no going back from this moment, naked and vulnerable under Taehyung, nothing hidden away any more—the soft fall of your breasts, your stomach, the lines of your hips, your fingers tightening in the towels spread beneath you as Taehyung’s eyes drink you in, wide and overawed at the sight of your flushed cunt, ripe and slick and ready for him.

(There's no more hiding how much you want Taehyung to have you, body and heart alike.)

You can see the shape of your body silhouetted on his clothes, where the oil has seeped into the material from how close he’d been pressed against you. You can see just how affected he is, cock straining against the loose linen of his white trousers, and you bite your lip to try and stifle the sound you make.

“Look at you,” Taehyung breathes, kneeling between your legs. “You’re so perfect.”

Your cheeks burn. “Taehyung, please,” you say, embarrassed. You really aren’t, especially in comparison to model-gorgeous Kim Taehyung, eyes dark and full of heated lust, hair falling in his eyes, effortlessly beautiful, always.

“You are,” he insists. “You have no idea how perfect you are.”

Before he reaches for the massage oil, he sucks the taste of you off his fingers, sloppy and messy. Your pussy throbs at the sight. And—you were also right about the visual being too much to handle, breath catching in your throat as you watch it drip into his broad hands. His palms shine as he rubs them together, interlacing his fingers, so graceful in their motions. You’re so wet from your orgasm, only getting wetter as you stare back at Taehyung, whose gaze has been heavy on you the whole time.

He starts at your collarbones. It’s even slower than before, and you ease underneath him, revelling in the softness of his touch. He sweeps his hands over your shoulders, down your arms, circling his long fingers around your wrists before lifting one of your hands. Your eyelashes flutter as he presses a kiss to your palm, a motion so full of adoration and tenderness it steals your breath away, and you squirm, shy.

“Tae,” you whine. “You can’t just do that.”

Of course he doubles down, lifting your other hand and repeating the motion, letting his lips linger between your head line and your heart line. “I can,” he says, words warm in your cupped palm. 

“I hope you didn’t do this in class.” Your voice is too weak for it to come out as the joke you mean it to be. 

Taehyung just shakes his head, mouth brushing over the tips of your fingers. “Only for you,” he says. “Did the whole class for you. I wanted—wanted an excuse to touch you more,” he admits, and your heart feels like it’s going to launch itself out of your throat.

“Then touch me,” you say, trying to sound confident even if your cheeks burn.

And he does. He lets your hands drop, gliding his touch back up your arms, down your body, over your legs; he massages your thighs and calves, digs his thumbs into the arches of your feet, circling his fingers around your ankles, shackles you don’t want to escape from. You feel so relaxed and lax, somehow, even if every touch has you biting your lip, anticipation roiling  in your stomach for what’s to come, Taehyung laying your legs down softly before he shifts back up, hands held out towards you—

—then he cups your breasts in his big, big hands and your back arches, fingers sliding over your nipples, glistening with coconut oil, circling them with the pads of his thumbs. You let out an embarrassing whine.

“Oh, Tae,” you beg. “More, please.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

You smile at another soft, unexpected pet name, flustered, but then your eyes slide shut when Taehyung bends down to kiss your neck as he continues to run his hands over the swell of your breasts. He trails his lips over your oiled skin, shifts down, drawing a line from your neck to the valley of your chest, the hard line at the center of your ribcage.

“Tae,” you murmur, and then, feeling bold under the heat of Taehyung’s dark eyes— “Baby.”

He hums before laying another sloppy kiss against your sensitive skin. You can feel the curve of his smile in the kiss. “Yes, love?”

“Is it really okay for you to… you know… get that oil in your mouth? I don’t want you to get sick,” you say, concerned, even through the haze of your arousal. His lips shine with it, at how he’s been trailing his mouth over all the parts of your body that he’s touched.

There’s a short beat, and then Taehyung buries his head against your neck—in that little hollow that’s his, in a motion he’s done dozens of times. Except this time you’re naked and he still has fingers splayed across the soft skin of your chest, nipples dragging underneath his palms.

“You’re always so considerate.” His words are muffled against your skin. “It’s fine. It’s edible.”

“You got edible massage oil from your course?”

Taehyung hesitates. “No,” he admits. “I bought it. It’s edible and, uh. Safe for intimate use.”

You’re silent, just for a moment, and then you can’t help it. You start to laugh. 

“Kim Taehyung,” you say, body shaking with amusement. “Did you buy edible massage oil that you can also use as lube?”

Taehyung pulls his face away from your neck and glances up. You’re giggling at him, and he feels so full of love and affection; he can’t help but join in, both laughing at him, loud and carefree.

“It’s why I asked which one you liked,” he confesses, once he can catch his breath.

“I can’t believe you lied to me,” you say, but you don’t mind, really, and he knows it. You lift a hand to push hair out of his face, running your fingers down his scalp. He leans into your touch with a smile, bright and lovely, before he abruptly shifts one of his hands down so he can lick a hot, wet stripe across the skin of your breast.

That stops your laughter pretty fast, surprised hiccup shifting into a broken moan when he engulfs your nipple in the heat of his mouth. “O-oh,” you gasp. “Oh, Taehyung—”

“Been thinking about this for so long.” Taehyung’s eyes are lidded and dark as he leans back, watching the way you react to his touch, arching up towards him. “Wanted to touch you like this so much.”

“Wanted it too,” you breathe. “Wanted—oh, God, Tae, fuck—”

It’s overwhelming. Not just the way Taehyung is flicking his tongue over each of your nipples, pressing his lips against your skin, no—but the idea that he’s been hoping for this, too. Each wet motion of his tongue over your pebbled skin drags pulls out of you; Taehyung’s cock twitches at a loud keen that’s drawn from your lips, a wet patch of precum seeping through his boxers and trousers, darkening the fabric, even though you haven’t touched him yet.

When you reach out to grasp him through his clothes, his hips jolt forward and he bites off a surprised gasp, cutting through the sound with his teeth. He feels long and heavy as you stroke him, thumbing over the wet patch at his tip, hot, even through all those layers between your skin and his.

“I want to feel you, Tae,” you say, staring at him. “Inside me. Please.”

His breath hitches when you tighten your fingers around his shaft and drag your hand upwards, slow and intent. 

“The oil isn’t condom friendly,” he admits, abashed. 

“Then you can cum in my mouth,” you reply. No hesitation.

Taehyung’s eyes are so wide, but then he smiles, eyes squeezing into crescents, mouth turning up into that lovely, broad grin of his. He looks so sweet and sincere, and you feel like you could explode, stuffed overfull with love for him.

“You really are perfect,” he says.

“Only for you,” you reply, your smile just as bright.

He lays one final kiss to your chest, above your beating heart, before he starts to strip. The oil has obviously soaked through his shirt and onto his skin because it sticks when he peels it off and carelessly throws it aside. 

Just like his heart, Taehyung’s body is soft and lovely. You sit up so you can touch him properly, catching him off guard when you pull him in for a kiss—one he eagerly leans into, and without the shirt in the way you can feel the way your skin slides against his, softened with oil. 

There really is no one as beautiful as Kim Taehyung. You drag your hands over him, so warm and wonderful under your palms; his chest, his cute tummy, his waist, his hips, the soft skin above his red, neglected cock. He’s radiant in his nakedness, every easing line of his body so perfect as he kneels in front of you, the flush of his skin, the heavy weight of his arousal, head shining with precum, so wet it’s practically dripping.

You lean in to kiss his neck and nip at his Adam's apple as his hands slide over your shoulder blades and down your back, the parts that make you shudder.

“Want you, Tae.” You whisper into his mouth, a soft secret that isn’t really a secret at all, not any more. “All of you.”

“Going to give you everything you want.” The words flow out of him with ease. “Everything you want.”

His chest and stomach shine with the massage oil that’s rubbed off from your own skin. You run your hands across him, and when you finally grasp his cock without the barrier of cloth in the way, he’s almost burning under your grasp, thick, his entire body shuddering when you pump his length. So sensitive to your touch.

“I’m goin’ to make you cum again,” he promises, and you love it, the way he talks when he’s losing himself. “Bet you’ll feel so good around my cock, so perfect.”

A shiver skates through your body. Taehyung’s fingers dig into your skin when he feels you trembling under his hands, and all you can think about is how you want him in you.

“Please,” you say. “Please, wanna make you feel good too—”

“Hands and knees, angel,” he rasps, and, God, yes, those words cut straight through you, sharp and electric.

Maybe you should feel embarrassed at how quickly you obey. The towels underneath you, so carefully placed at the start, perfectly flat, become rumpled as you shift into position; you arch your back, wanting to look as good as possible, and glance over your shoulder to see if it works.

Judging from the look on Taehyung’s face, it does. He looks like he’s never seen anything more awe-inspiring, eyes wide and mouth a little slack, dumbstruck. But then his jaw snaps shut and he splays his hands over the soft skin of your hips, your waist, your ass, shuffling closer to you; you feel the curve of his cock slide against your skin and you bite back a noise of need.

“Fuck, so beautiful.” He ruts forward, and you can feel the wetness of his precum slicking against you, a beaded line drawn across the sheen of massage oil. “My beautiful, perfect girl.”

“Tae,” you plead, already overwhelmed with need, heart squeezing at his words.

“Just one more thing, angel, I promise.”

It’s a good thing that the bottle of massage oil is so big, considering how liberal Taehyung is with it. You gasp when he uses one hand to spread your ass and before you can react there’s a drizzle of oil falling onto your skin, down-down-down, over your cunt, dripping over your inner thighs; Taehyung catches the excess with his palms before he slicks himself up, spreading that sweet coconut over his throbbing cock.

(You wonder what it’ll taste like when you lick it off him.)

When you feel the blunt head of his cock nudging at your pussy, your entire body lights up in anticipation, nerve endings on fire, every inch of your body singing under Taehyung’s touch—and when he finally sinks in, it’s almost effortless. He’s thick and long but everything slides so easy; you gasp and he moans, both lost in how your body opens up for him, hot and wet. By the time he’s bottomed out you're a quivering mess, collapsed onto your elbows. You’re so full. You feel split open in all the best ways, wanting to draw him in impossibly deeper even so.

Taehyung is gripping your sides, hands unmoving even with the slick oil underneath them, fingers digging into your skin. He’s breathing so loud, and when you experimentally shift your hips, he bites back a noise that cuts through that breath.

“How’s it feel, love?” His words slur together in arousal, but the hand that strokes your back is slow, thoughtful. “Feel good?”

“Fuck me, Tae, baby, please,” you beg. It’s so, so so much, so good, amazing, hotter and bigger and harder than anything you’d let yourself imagine, your entire body taking Taehyung and holding him in, in, in. “Please, I need it, it feels good but I want more, please.”

When he pulls away it’s slow and torturous and he goes so far he almost slips out, cock nearly sliding out of your folds. You whine, a little shameless, mostly needy, but then—

The snap of his hips drives you forwards, towels shifting underneath as you scrabble for a hold on something. Each sharp motion of Taehyung’s body has you choking for air and letting out whimpers and gasps, drowned out by the slap of skin on skin; his hipbones meet the soft flesh of your ass, again and again, but all you can focus on is the thick heat of his cock inside you, in-out-in-out, the press of his balls against your clit, everything so wet and smooth and slick.

You can feel how you’re losing yourself to that heady place that’s golden bright with feeling, lust and sex, the rest of the world gone, unimportant. There’s nothing but this—Taehyung touching you, filling your body so well, so perfect, helping you chase that high that’s growing faster and faster, that precipice of pleasure that he’s going to throw you over again, intent on it.

One of his hands trails up your back, between that sensitive dip of your shoulder blades and into your hair, locks tangling with coconut oil before he urges you up. He doesn’t yank or pull but his hold is firm and you end up back on your hands, arms trembling as you try to keep your balance, back bowed, overwhelmed. 

“Baby,” he rasps. “Oh, you’re so tight n’ hot, so pretty, fuck. You feel so good, do you feel good?”

Your answer is almost a wail, so overcome with pleasure, sensation, the glide of his hands over your shining skin, the mix of oil and arousal that drips out of you, only getting wetter with each thrust of his hips into you. “So good, o-oh God, Tae, baby, fuck, oh, theretherethere—”

“Here?”

He punctuates this with a roll of his hips, using the hand still on your hip to pull you back onto his cock as he fills you up once more, throbbing heat. He bends over you, and this time, there’s nothing stopping the skin on skin contact, the slide of his chest against your back as he kisses the soft skin behind your ear, nipping at your lobe, and that’s it, you’re gone. Your eyes slide shut and your mouth falls open as another orgasm crashes through you, legs shaking as you cum around Taehyung’s cock, grinding back against him to drag out that pleasure; the only thing holding you up is the hand still in your hair, the lips trailing up the side of your bared neck, the hard cock inside you, keeping you against him, so many points of connection with Taehyung.

(His chest pressed against your back, heart beating so hard you can feel it, your own heart moving in tandem, matching him.)

He’s been whispering filth to you, heated praise and love, how good you feel, how beautiful you are, what it’s like to see you like this, touch you like this, have you like this. Lovely, pretty, perfect, gorgeous, hot n’ wet n’ tight, fuck, love, oh.

You’re still shivering, the final pulses of your orgasm curling through you with each unintentional shift of Taehyung’s hips, the drag of his length inside your inner walls. You can feel something dripping out of you; oil, cum, you don't know, but fuck, it feels so so good.

“Oh, God,” you say. Breathless. “Oh, Taehyung, oh.”

“Pretty darling,” he murmurs. He swivels his hips, grinding against you, and your entire body jolts with oversensitivity, clit swollen where his balls press against it. You tighten around him and groan at how hot and big he still feels inside, even as you still shiver from the come down of your second orgasm. “Gonna roll you over so I can see that perfect face.”

And when you’re on your back again, fucked out and mussed and wrecked, he just stares at you. You’ve watched his face for so long, seen so many expressions flit across his features, but never something like this—it’s a mix of amazement and awe and tenderness and lust and love, a lift to his brows and a spark in his eyes and a set to his lips.

And when he leans down to kiss you, that look doesn’t leave. It melts and softens around the edges as you catch each other's mouths, as you kiss and kiss, small tender things interspersed with longer, deeper touches, lips and teeth and tongue—his eyes darken and his mouth flushes darker pink, kiss swollen and so beautiful, but that expression stays. It stays for you. 

Kim Taehyung is beautiful and lovely and unique. Kim Taehyung is so far out of your reach it’s kind of stunning, actually. And yet, here you are, existence of his touch over every part of you, in every part of you, lust driven, love full; the carefully balanced weight of his body splayed over you, pinning you down, keeping you close.

“I wanna see you cum, Tae,” you say. “Please?”

And just like he always does, Taehyung indulges you, just like you indulge him. He presses back inside you, cunt opening up for him so easy, so smooth, like his touch has already been etched into the memory of your body, perfect for him. He stays pressed close, face so near as he rolls into each thrust, sweat and coconut oil painted across your skin as your bodies shift together.

He’s been covering you in his words, both heated and sweet, and now you return the favour. You tell him how good he feels, how beautiful he is, so good, so perfect, so considerate, how much you’ve wanted this. So good, so long and thick, oh, Tae, feels so good, ah-ah-ah, baby, you’re unreal, fuck.

You can see the exact moment he starts to reach his high, the way he sucks in air, the way he lifts his chin, starts to thrust a little harder, a little faster, chasing that thread of pleasure that’s spiralling through him, and you urge him on. You lift your hips and clench so tight it has him gasping, hips stuttering, and you press your nose against his jaw, saying give it to me give it to me give it to me, wanting him to feel the same pleasure he’s given you. 

When he pulls out, you’re too busy moving to pay attention to how empty you feel, settling between his legs and swallowing down his shining cock almost desperately. There’s no coconut. You can only taste yourself and when you lave your tongue across his slit it’s all Taehyung-Taehyung-Taehyung, hot and salt and bitter; he gasps and his hips jump and you take it all, lowering your head as far as you can, the head of his cock at the back of your throat before you pull up, dragging your tongue over the pulsing vein at the underside, messy and wet. You drink down the wetness of his cock, your own arousal, mixed with his, the precum that beads at his head, staring up at him, your hands sliding over the sheen of his stomach, his thighs, cupping his balls, everything slick with oil and sweat.

“Oh, God.” Taehyung’s eyes are blown and his hair is a mess and his mouth is wide open as he pants for air, watching. “Baby, baby, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum.”

You suck hard, dragging your lips up from the base of the cock to the rounded tip, swirling your tongue, bobbing your head faster—

“Oh, fuck—”

—and you swallow down each wave of cum, swallow down the way his cock twitches as he spills the evidence of pleasure into your mouth, swallow down the lovely noises that shudder out of him, watching him the whole time, never wanting to look away.

When you take your mouth off his softening cock, you draw a line of kisses with your mouth, up the soft skin of his body, stomach to chest to neck to mouth. He licks the taste of coconut oil off your lips, the taste of himself off your tongue; you curl up in his lap, settled against him, the apartment’s cool air even sharper against your skin, magnified by the oil that still lingers.

(Even without the oil painted across him, Taehyung would still shine, even under the weak light from the cheap lightbulb that hangs above you.)

You feel soft and warm and small in the circle of Taehyung’s arms, pulled close, and you can hear the words in his chest as he speaks, a resonance that touches against your skin.

“‘M sorry,” he murmurs. 

You pause.

“Baby, love, darling.” The endearments are sugar sweet in your mouth, soft against his skin before you pull back to look at him, confused, concerned. “Sorry for what?”

“I really—I really was just planning to do a massage, but you’re so…” 

You let out a slip of laughter. The room smells of coconut and sex, but when you lay your head against Taehyung’s collarbone all you can smell is the light tinge of his sweat. You breathe in, deep, like you can hold onto that ephemeral part of him. “Oh, Tae. I’m so what?”

“You’re so good,” he says. “So good and kind and lovely and—and so beautiful. I was going to do the massage to make you happy and then… tell you. About how happy you make me.”

You burrow your head into the hollow of his neck, the way he does to you, shy. “I’m not as beautiful as you,” you reply. “Tae, you are literally the most beautiful person alive, and—God, I’ve. I’ve been. So head over heels for you.”

There’s a pause. “Really?”

When you pull back to fix Taehyung with all the surprise in your gaze, you can see that he’s surprised, too. His hair hangs into his eyes, and he looks a little unsure, like he believes you, but finds it impossible to fathom.

You leave massage oil on his cheeks when you cup his face in your hands, staring at him with wide eyes. “Kim Taehyung, I have had daily breakdowns about the intensity of my love for you to Pickles ever since we got him. You’re the first person I think about each morning—usually because we wake each other up—and the last thing I think about at night—well, usually because you end up climbing into my bed more often than not, but, it still counts,” you say. You’re both tangled together in so many ways already. “You’ve had my heart for a long time, you know. I just never thought I had a chance?”

When Taehyung kisses you, it’s brief, a hard press of his lips before he rests his forehead against yours. “You really, really have no idea how perfect you are,” he murmurs. “I’ve wanted—I want to do everything for you to show you how grateful I am for everything you do for me.”

“You don’t have to,” you protest, but he just smiles.

“I don’t have to, but I want to,” he says. “Like you don’t have to look after me, but you do.”

“That’s because I love you,” you say. “Like, capital L love you.”

You’ve been so afraid of confessing, so convinced that it was an unattainable dream; that Kim Taehyung would never, could never, has never seen you as more than a friend. But the way he’s looking at you now, the way he’s touched you, the way your body still echoes with the feeling of him inside you: you’re not scared, any more. You don’t need to be.

Taehyung’s eyes are so dark and warm when he replies, easy and effortless. “I love you, too.”

Your relationship has always been a give and take, is the thing. When you climb in the shower together, he washes the oil from your back while you massage shampoo into his scalp, laughing when he makes devil horns in his hair. He catches you by surprise when he presses you against the tiles, swallowing your moans when he coaxes one final orgasm from your tired body, rubbing tight circles over your clit as you buck against his hand and water cascades over you both. His cock hardens in your hands, sliding between your legs when you press them together, tight-tight-tight, his length rubbing against your cunt as he fucks your thighs until he’s moaning and shaking and cumming again.

(The water’s cold by the time you finally climb out, but that’s okay. You giggle and kiss as you dry yourselves, each other, excuses to keep touching and feeling, driven by affection, not lust.)

When you’re both clean, and dry, Taehyung’s leg thrown over your hip as he tugs you in, flush with his body under the covers, you press your lips against the line of his jaw.

“Taehyung?”

“Yes, angel?”

You smile and hunch up even closer to him, scrunching yourself up as small as you can to plaster yourself against his side. “Thank you for the wonderful massage. Definitely the best massage I’ve ever been given, ten out of ten, would do again.”

Taehyung laughs, pressing his rectangular smile into the kiss he lays against your lips, and you think that nothing tastes better than the happiness curling his mouth.

“Love you,” he murmurs. Always romantic. “I love you love you love you.”

“Tae-honey-hyung.” And it feels so nice to not have to filter your words, to bite back that second layer of meaning, to try and keep things platonic and chaste when you speak. “I love you.”

And it feels so nice to have your Taehyung beside you, your body still aching with the press of him inside you, a good ache, a nice ache. A physical ache from good love, rather than a heartache from a love you didn’t think was reciprocated. But it is, somehow, each of you so bowled over by each other.

--

(“Hey, Pickles.”

The bearded dragon looks up at you, placid as he lounges in his tank.

“Well, you’ll be happy to hear that you won’t have to put up with me ranting at you any more,” you say. “Taehyung did break out the massage oil but it’s all good. I didn’t spontaneously combust or anything, like I thought I would.”

Pickles’ tongue flicks out as he shifts, and you smile.

“Okay, that’s it, I’m done,” you finish. “Thanks, Pickles. You’re a real pal.”

Taehyung nuzzles into your neck. His arms are a tight circle around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder as he looks down at the reptile, too. He’s warm and solid against your back, and you lean into him, happiness tingling through you.

“I wonder how much longer we would have taken if you didn’t get that coupon for a massage therapy course,” you muse, and Taehyung chuckles, warm and lovely.

“We would have gotten there eventually. And we would have had each other until we did, anyway. Right, angel?”

Pickles stays quiet as you both kiss, but you can tell he approves.)

--

taglist: @beyoncesdragon​

[sugar-petals]

♣︎  IDOL x READER :: multifandom kissing drabbles (18+)

+++ FEATURED › baekhyun, chungha, hyunjin, jimin, jongin, kyungsoo, lisa, taemin, yoongi

↳ ♡ NOTE ♡ a pick-a-boy/gal scenario with some of k-pop’s most notorious kissable lips like oh my goodness 💋 choose your fave(s), have fun reading!

❝ 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 + tags ⚠️ established relationship au, brief smut bits, prince kink, sloppy kisses, fem!reader, u can pick wlw or m/f or both hehe ♥︎, light dom/sub undertones, threesome mention, oral (f receiving)

3k words in total

masterlist | read it on ao3 ❣️

➷ [ b a e k h y u n ⇁ So I heard you like the wild ones? Hot and sloppy is the word. Once Baekhyun is in the mood for flirts and pining, it’s easy to sign up for: Just bring a towel for the drool. Being a messy, casual kisser is Baekhyun’s instantly recognizable signature. One hand at the back of your neck or two around your head, including the ears. So you don’t get overwhelmed by the lewd noises right away, he’s a respectful man alright. The breathing erratic, him half-talking, half-groaning, and dedicating himself to your super-sensitive freakin’ neck as well because Baekhyun said let’s test your nervous system! Keep those neurons firing baby, he’s too busy to care. Baekhyun pays no mind to possibly overdoing it because it’s a rule you can’t have enough neck kisses so that’s that. He’s just gonna shower you with that since reckless abandon is absolutely the theme here. Pure chaos at the tip of one tongue. Baekhyun, naughty as they come, has made it his favorite pastime to practice on a popsicle abnormally often. Y’know, with the angles and the way he rotates his tongue, down to perfect his puckering. Just a regular hobby for someone to have, nothing to see here. But really, it’s admirable how he treats romantic abilities with the same drive as his singing. He sees those ice cream shenanigans as both a useful exercise and teasing technique in one go in case you’re watching.

Already an oral expert, and we’re talking vocal lessons here just to be sure, your man has it in him genetically by default most likely. God has favorites. He gave way too much tongue and lip talents to this young man, hoping he wouldn’t go overboard with it. And yet he did. Idea: great. Execution: Backfired. Who on earth can keep up with Byun Baekhyun’s rowdy mouth. You need to step your game up and make Suho proud, okay. It needs the top of all tops, the one dom to rule them all, the one to whip this guy into some real shape. Best with some muscle power, Baekhyun is barely tamed with just controlling his hands or neck. You gotta lie down on his whole body and have your way with his talker mouth. Acts like he isn’t easy to shock, but being hands-on with him brings out his usual reaction king. What makes his eyes go the widest when you bite him all over. Then, he caves. Despite being the most energetic guy on this list, Baekhyun is not the rawest: That’s Taemin still. Rather, he’s the type to really enjoy soft cheek kisses all the way. In typical fashion, that’s his forte area. Very soft with high cheekbones, the perfect place to kiss him all the time followed by the forehead.

➷ [ c h u n g h a ⇁ The perfect mix of a cute and cool girlfriend, and that’s exactly what her heavenly kisses feel like. Sweet and aloof at the same time. Chungha’s signature makeup is immaculate and so is her face, it’s a bit intimidating to be this close to her perfection at first. As for now, you really don’t want to ruin her carefully applied lipstick or mess with the foundation on her cheeks. But once the two of you are face to face in the bathtub with cheeks heated and the hair wetted down, no makeup on (oh, how cute does she look) and the lights down low — it’s arguably easier to lean in. Candlelight does work wonders for human tenderness and confidence coming together. It won’t take long for the makeout to become lush and hotter, very slow the way she likes it best, with hands roaming on hips, shifting on the tub floor, the shoulders getting a little cold after a while. So you dip down again together with only your heads peeking out, laying there nose tip to nose tip. Chungha is all smiley throughout. You love her charisma. She really tastes like cherry, too.

It doesn’t need much tongue for the two of you, though. You keep it lip on lip for the most part, it’s so stimulating. She makes you feel so good and cozy. Chungha loves to talk it out this way, and it’s her favorite idea of relaxing as a couple. The autumn months and wintertime really is the best to huddle together like that inside and outside that lovely foam bath. Chungha’s natural blush always comes out when you kiss together (suits her already phenomenal cheekbones very well by the way), and you’re equally flustered with her chest against yours. Everything about her soft and mesmerizing moon face is kissable, forehead to temples to eyelids. Her arms, too, for good measure. That girl is just to swoon for, and you’d be damned if you didn’t want to baby her a little because she’s precious beyond everything, she’s your kitten, the apple of your eye, the sweetest honeypot. What about… feeding her some strawberries. What starts innocent will likely end up with you bickering about some really perverted ideas. If you’re not careful with the flirting, she’ll yell girl I will not hesitate and go down on you in a solid minute. So of course you’re not careful. Duh. She got this ponytail to hold for a reason.  

➷ [ h y u n j i n ⇁ Totally not the best bottom’s lip ever. Pardon: I meant bottom lip. This unmistakably loud and whiny brat specimen that seems to gatekeep way too much handsomeness for his own good sure likes to get going in the after work glow. Or even more steamily: At solo dance practice. Um — you’re conveniently dropping by to check out what he’s doing. He’s doing all kinds of stunts and contortions, he’s moving like a fierce goddess glamazon, what’s not to love. Stray Kids’ bonkers choreographies really bring out his sex appeal in broad daylight. In other words: Hyunjin is just very inviting. It doesn’t stop at how pretty he is. The closer you come, the face turns out to be only one focal point among a dozen. Like Kai, it’s the whole package of rare, non-awkward tallness that really sets a sultry tone. I mention it because it really makes a difference when you kiss chest to chest, his arms feel very nice to be in and the shoulders are a perfect spot to rest your chin during hugs. Hyunjin is a famously emotional creature, he might often cry from relief when you embrace. You get your legs tangled, you fool around in between playing tag, you lie down right on top of him, you’re glued to one another.

Talk about glue: You frequently get to kiss the dark red lipstick and plenty of gloss off his face. Takes the whole thing to a new level of naughty since his stylists don’t shy away from bold color. Typical case for wet wipes alert. Then again: His kissing style is very classic and very puppy love. Hyunjin is not a technician seeking to be as acute as possible, he’s more about the zeal and a whole bunch of PDA. Things don’t have to be expert and complicated, you just enjoy yourselves however you please. Chemistry and being sweaty is enough to do the trick. With him, feeling is feeling, no need to tweak the body’s expression of it. That’s what you appreciate about him: The idea of being less filtered, less repressed. However you want to kiss him, he’s down, he sees where you’re coming from. Things coming naturally is Hyunjin’s kissing philosophy, and oh boy is he a hormone trigger on two legs so don’t worry about that. And this one goes out to all my poly people: Imagine the possibility of Felix joining. The cuddlebug and fellow lip legend. If that’s not the horniest constellation ever with you in the eye of the storm, I don’t know.

➷ [ j i m i n ⇁ Generally kissy, resident cotton candy hair prince Jimin is hardly ever lacking the motivation. Like he wants to get peppered from dusk ‘til dawn, full-fledged cuddling included — keep the head pats coming, and the soft Rennaissance painting-like hand-holding as well. And if that’s ever not the case, he opts for kisses anyway, it sets the mood to begin with. Advanced Jimin lover logic: He got the hacks and reverse psychology down, or however you call it when you smile for 5 minutes to trick your body into thinking you’re all jolly, so you start to feel like that. Hormone magic if you will, and he got it down. The common comparison to love god Cupid is more than accurate here. You can pretty much smooch each other on loop without falling out of it. Loves to sit on your lap, god he’s so cute and dandy in those sweaters he always wears. Looking all dapper with the perfect blonde hair in that signature middle part, or the messy strands, both is the cherry on top.

Becomes impossibly lethal when wet. Out of the shower, out of a pool, I mean. That slicked-back hair and the hooded gaze, that’s just absolutely killer as foreplay. Knows how to tease right, move his body right. Wants his hands guided, still, and loves those little fragmented praise showers between steamy makeouts. It’s actually more innocent than your friends and the other BTS members would think. Mochi loves the teasing, and he might want to impress you with some devilish tongue dips in a sizzling night, but for the most part? Romance is king here. The two of you wrapped into a blanket eating a bit of warm pudding, then sharing some slow and chaste lip traces… heavenly. It’s that Singularity feeling. Jimin truly is a love magician, making it very soft, very special, always asking what you’re comfortable with, and being able to intuit that anyway. Jimin reads your every wish off your lips in every sense of the word. And we know that Jimin’s lovely pink pout is the best and the most gorgeous in the game. So what are you waiting for? Clearly it’s free mochi estate.

➷ [ j o n g i n ⇁ He’s leaning in without restraint after the initial shyness and the nose against nose stage, he’s feeling himself, but you’re already well aware. That’s a life philosophy in his household, after all. I don’t have to tell you that he has all the right moves and all the right faces. An excellent dancer simply has that repertoire, he practices nothing else all day. Excellent lover on the beat, an even better lover on your bed. Exactly that all-or-nothing mentality will always apply to one of his most favorite things to do. Full-body makeout king with the best lips ever, Jesus Christ, and god, what that jaw can do. He really puts it to good use. Going all in, Mister Kim, are we. Keeps it all very private with good reason. No kissing in public, ever. Princely Kai is far too erotic to show himself for someone else’s eyes right in the act. People would drop like flies seeing him go off with the deep French. His seduction techniques are all risque and all yours to witness. Master of grinding and winding while you get steamy. The whole body talks, and sways you right with him. Your legs around his torso, him whispering the most provocative things to you to make you all horny, now we’re talking.

He’s a big boy, 6 feet of sex bomb goodness, you can cling to all of this while he’s really dishing it on for you. Extremely rhythmic, extremely plump, extremely moany, but who’s surprised. Prefers to alternate between two sets of lips, he’s digging in, he’s not satisfied with less. Oh yeah. And his technique is pretty solid. You always know what to expect. It’s not cookie-cutter business, Kai is innately too creative for that, but let’s call it stable. Stamina in general. Won’t pop a boner all too fast, that needs extra palm action from your side. And then, surprisingly, he’s left stunned very easily when you go a little harder with the suction. Definitely enjoys if you know precisely what you’re doing. Taker more than a giver, that’s his definition of a great kissing partner. You’d expect it to be the other way around, but he’s all stoked for a lush and strong reply to his own tongue working its spiralling miracles. Kai being very vanilla and you leading the way is not uncommon and very appreciated. Whether it’s morning kisses, movie evening couch kisses, kisses at the subway, kisses after getting the groceries in the car, the story goes on.

➷ [ k y u n g s o o ⇁ Legendary stoic-turned-romantic he is, Soo has simply taken his experience from drama kissing scenes to heart. He analyzed it all and even felt his face feel hot at the very thought. What works for him, for her most likely, he takes that case by case mind you, and how it all comes together. Innuendo intended, he absolutely wants to kiss you to your climax and make it even better like that, but we digress. Pragmatism. When you film for TV, you do those kiss scene takes a hundred times. Until you get it right. He does have that kind of mentality already, paired with being unfairly talented. Other men in a radius of 1000 miles can only be pitied, Kyungsoo kills the desperate competition just by the simple act of existing. And he’s ironically not even intending to compete. It’s just that his skills are so glaringly good and proper. His chin angles are absolutely clinical. The softness of his lips, a phenomenon, you could tell it apart among a million kisses. The way his hands are placed at your nape of chin, not one inch off — always where they are supposed to be, and most comforting to you.

Yeah, this is healing time in and of itself. What a treat of a man. He doesn’t even have to try. Envy will surround you like moths to the flame, get ready for it. Everybody wants to call a Kyungsoo-level kisser their sweetheart. Who can say of themselves that they can hug and smooch their lil’ egghead chef in the kitchen at any time she pleases without getting told off? Lucky, lucky you. Free food to taste before it’s even ready included. The only rule is, don’t distract him when the water is about to boil over. But he has an eye on that anyway. If you’re surrounded by EXO for a decade, you learn how to multitask and troubleshoot imminent chaos. Anyway. Domestic dream husband Kyungsoo is absolutely in his element here. His whole body knows how to revere you, to give you what you want and need. The kisses are the perfect expression of that. You’d not think he’s the type for tongue, but he got that one down like a motherfucker, too. This dude knows how it’s all done, he puts all devotion he has in every single skin contact. A formidable match. If his kissing game is that refined already, imagine how much of a grenade in bed he is.

➷ [ l a l i s a ⇁ Time to lift her mystery bangs to reveal the sacred place: Lisa’s forehead which is your most treasured spot to pepper with plenty o’kisses. You love to praise her this way, if you have time all you can think about is playing with her hair for hours. When it’s straightened, it’s got that silky texture you love to trace all the way down, and when it’s wavy, you curl up the ends and kiss her elegant neck. Oh lord, the butterflies of it all. Lisa is giggling all the way through. You really managed to make this queen so shy and in love like a preschooler. Just some hours earlier she was gyrating on stage like a goddamn pro, now she’s all curled up with you. And that’s not to say her legendary sexiness just disappeared. Oh no. Those long legs betray her. Maybe they could use some kisses as well? Who knew. Lisa is actually pretty ticklish there and has to stop you from making her laugh a little too much. You pinch her cheeks and insist you’ll do it again once she has her thigh-high boots on. Not to get all full-blown kinky. Just to worship her a little and give those shins the attention they deserve.

Let me tell you, it’s all too easy to get enthusiastic about her. Those legs are only the beginning. Lisa’s doe eyes and soft lips entrance you like crazy. When she bats her lashes and smiles, your heart fucking explodes. How does dating the cutest tease ever feel like? Everyone’s jealous of you stealing her heart, bask in it. You can fangirl, too, she won’t kiss and tell. Although the way she acts will give it all away when people ask if she’s seeing someone, but that’s another story. In any case: Lisa is great to kiss, and there’s so much cackling and jokes involved. You can dance and dine together all evening, twirl each other on the carpet, kiss like in the movies, hug for minutes, slurp spaghettis, sit on each other’s laps. Miss Manoban is not above taking it to a new level a bit later, though. She’s still hungry for somethin’ else, my dear. Sit on her face and let her do the work. A bit of grinding is all it needs. Lisa loves to indulge you properly, she’s a real lip kissing expert in every literal sense of the word.

➷ [ t a e m i n ⇁ Nervous because it’s impossibly crucial to him. Kissing means a lot because he considers it the highest form of day-to-day affection. Taemin really builds those stakes up in his mind. How good he is, how he comes across, if she can handle him, if she accepts him. What kind of feedback he might expect. It’s almost like he approaches an exam, Taemin is that tense and overtly focused on his delivery like it’s a package arriving. He might be the biggest lip-on-lip enthusiast on this list, if not the most obsessive  and out-of-control. The more invested you are in something, the more you desire and wish for mutuality, the more self-conscious you can get sometimes. Who’s he to blame, he’s fucking Taemin. Can’t wait to show off. Not just a little bit, but a lot, as a treat. He’s a born loverboy, he’s intense, he loves to demonstrate how well he flirts and pleases. He likes to be the tempter in flesh, with the shits and giggles, but meaning serious business regardless. You already know this is all up to him. Just lean back on a nice armchair and watch him go, stripping show included. You’ll never have to worry about the seduction part because it’s Taemin who really draws you in. No effort, no awkward, no problem.

Explosively horny at full throttle, there’s no upper limit to his way of being passionate. Some furniture is bound to get broken unintentionally with his level of clumsiness mixing into that high energy. Once unleashed, Taemin goes all out and probably even chokes himself while kissing. If work of something else separates you, he gives his own arm and thigh a hickey fest to remember, pretending it’s you. This bitch just wants to be sore. Good luck not losing your mind with this fella. To save him from himself and landing at the ER, it’s probably better to tie him up from the shoulders down. Turns out that’s why he likes bondage so much: Property damage control. He eclipses everything you can conceptualize about kisses because he’s that needy for them, while at the same time being an Italian lover at heart. He’s called Francesco with good reason. You can tell by how he’s the most compelling kiss you can get by how excited he gets over some lip lock time. Does it 100% for its own sake, for hours on end, but beware Francesco amps up the suction on your bottom lip during sexy time. As always, he’s peerless and unparalleled, even during awkward moments.

➷ [ y o o n g i ⇁ All right, Mister Pout. Takes no prisoners as one would expect, but — and that’s his secret fantasy— is ready to be stunned and ravaged himself. Completely and utterly. By your technique, in response to his bold licks and even bolder moans. Which are thinly disguised as initial sighs, but he escalates right anyway and betrays himself: As a turned-on, sensual mess. If he’s honest, he just wants to get pinned down on his bed. No, actually wrestled, all while locking lips. Yoongi’s an ardent sucker for all that, the Jonas brothers can go home on this one. Kissing back while you’re all over him, that’s his favorite thing. We all know who hits it out of the park with the lip speed and prowess. Once he gets going, that is: He’d rather be a little more kittenish than always on fire, but he can definitely go there for fun and public holidays. Likes the interplay of initiative, always curious what he’s met with. Very little breaks, and I mean why anyway because there is no need, therefore a much more tender pace.

He just wants it to continue for as long as the two of you are comfy. It’s much easier than doing conversation to him. All that idle talk is useless, better kiss and see what point you’re gonna make. Not a casual type, really wants to create a certain atmosphere, whether it be at home or a hotel room. A quiet minute paired with some nice lighting is what it takes. If that kind of environment is established, he feels at ease. Hardly anything can make Yoongi lose his cool except you grabbing his ass hard so jot that down. He’s eager, he’s spot-on, he’s warm and easy-going with a hidden ambition to fully please, Yoongi’s got it all there. Just you wait until he hits you with those butterfly kisses, he gets those lashes tracing all over you, Yoongi will use his entire arsenal of weapons. A firework of the senses. Glad is she who is indulged by Min Yoongi.

---------

© sugar-petals 2017-2023. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate. all depictions fictional.

[not-using-this1]

Helping Bela dye her hair

I made a (crappy) Bela Dimitrescu oneshot because she’s bae and I’m in love with her :) 

I had this headcanon that because Bela, Cassandra & Daniela obviously all had brunette hair in the picture of the castle demo they’ve dyed it (or something else happened but oh well) since then.

Bela got sick of having the same hair colour as her sister Cassandra (brunette) she wanted her own style...to which she asks you (her girlfriend) to help her with along with Daniela to dye hers ginger...with a mix of blood in it.

Yes I made it so Bela and Daniela could go out in the daylight (I prentended those jewels on their chokers protect them lmao)

Pairings: Bela Dimitrescu x fem!reader 

You welcomed yourself into castle Dimitrescu as usual and wuld of hoped that your girlfriend Bela would be there in the main hall sat on the sofa waiting. But, she wasn't which made you think she was either going to jump out at you for fun. "Bela I know you're hiding." You shout as it echoes through the main hall.

You hear a laugh, and just like that she appears in front of you. You expected blood to be around her mouth from feeding (since shes a vampire) she wasn't even wearing her usual outfit, rather she was wearing a corset top and black jeans but with her usual choker with the red jewel placed inside it. "What? You didn't think I'd clean up for my own girlfriend?" Bela chuckles.

"No, it's not that it just looks like your going somehwere" you add. She gives you a small smirk and presses a kiss to your lips "I want to dye my hair blonde, so I thought I'd go out to get some".

You weren't surprised she wanted to change her hair but blonde? You thought she would go for something darker "and where would you get it in the village? If you asked me I would've happily gone to buy you some from the store in the town I go to" you replied.

Bela shrugged her shoulders at you "Well I just made the decision now, do you think we could drive there? I know it's daylight but I'm not exactly gonna burn, the jewel in my choker doesn't allow that" You nodded your head at your girlfriend and agreed.

"Yes! Okay lets go!" She seemed so enthusiastic and to be honest those moments of her like that are rare; Bela had always struggled with her emotions to the point people think she hasn't gotten any...but you know that isn't true.

The good thing was that it wasn't morning or even the afternoon, it was rather that the sun was setting and besides the store would be open still anyway. Bela had grabbed your hand, pulling you to the large castle doors.

"Hi Y/n, Bela where are you going?" Daniela popped up out of nowhere which made you jump slightly. She chuckled at your small action as se confronted you and her sister. When you first met Daniela she was closed off anf very quiet half the time but now, the two of you actually get along very well. "I want to dye my hair blonde, y/n is taking me to the store to get some dye" Bela explained, she just wanted to hurry up and go.

"Oh cool! Can I come? I've wanted to dye my hair red...but with a twist. If you guys get me blonde hair dye and I mix it with blood-"

Bela and you laughed at her but Daniela seemed very serious "Why don't you just buy red dye? Problem solved Whats with the blood being added?" You asked her. "Uhh because it's more fun that way?" She shrugged her shoulders.

Honestly, you stopped questioning Daniela a while ago. You looked at Bela as if to ask for approval to bring Daniela. She rolled her eyes at you and sighed "Ugh fine you can come".

~~~

During the car ride, you had played some music which Daniela and Bela kept belting out. You honestly loved that they were just so normal in these situations even if they're not normal whatsoever.

You were just happy you could show Bela what its like to have fun outside of the other...activities she does (aka being a vampire). As you stopped the car in the store, Daniela wasted no time in getting out of the car to go into the store so much that you and Bela had to stop her.

"Dani, stay here and look after the car. We'll be back and maybe get you a treat" Bela adds to which Daniela sighs and stomps her foot a little before getting back in the back seat "More blood?" she cheekily questions.

"No, Dani. We'll be back soon." You add.

For the most part the reason you left her in the car was because she was wearing what she usually does. Of course you wouldn't mind her walking around with the both of you if only she didn't have blood stains on it.

Bela offered you her hand and the two of you just walked hand in hand to the store. Going over to the part of the store that has beauty and hair products. Bela looked quite overwhelmed that and the fact she had never really been out of her village much at all or to a large store like this. Of course she knew of these things though, she knew what every item was...shes been alive for centuries and has adapted well to changes.

"There's the blonde you'd probably look best in" you pointed her into the direction of dirty but light blonde box dye, she already had a platinum blonde one in her hand but she grabbed the other and put them beside her.

"Which one babe?" she asked you, as if you were some sort of expert on these things. Yeah, you've dyed your hair many times it's currently h/c (your hair colour) which you loved. "Since you have a pale complection I'd go for the light dirty blonde, you'd look so hot" those last words slipped out of you but Bela smirked. Putting back te platinum blonde dye "Daniela can have the same then" she adds.

As you were walking to another aisle as you wanted something for yourself, Bela had grabbed your hand because this guy kept ogling you just because you were wearing a skirt, fishnet tights and a casual t-shirt.

Of course your girlfriend was going to get possessive, she had practically pulled you into her and kissed you in front of everyone who was down that aisle...but you didn't mind one bit and kissed her back.

"He was eyeing you up and down, ugh men disgust me." Bela replies. You wanted to make a joke about her saying that even though she was bisexual but you left it and agreed. After paying for everything you both headed back to the car which all you could hear was rock music from.

"Oh god whats she doing" you laugh.

"Daniela! Daniela!" Bela shouts as the two of you get back in your car, you turn the music down and Daniela gives you an unamused look.

~~~

After a small argument between Bela and her sister Daniela about whose bathroom they'd do it in you settled the argument by saying that they should just use the bathroom down in the main hall. Daniela had collected the blood and mixed it in with the blonde and it turned an actual nice red, so you decided to help her first.

"Daniela, you need to stay still, it'll go everywhere if you don't" you explained. "The blood is already everywhere on the damn floor mother is going to kill us. Not to mention my girlfriend clearly likes spending time with my sisters more than me" Bela pouted, you rolled your eyes at her and plafully punched her arm a little "you get me all to yourself tonight, now help."

During this entire commotion Cassandra had came back up from the cellar and decided to help you, while you helped Bela with her dye Cassandra washed off Daniela's in the tub with the shower after it set for a good hour.

When everything was finally done both Bela and Daniela had new hair but the bathroom...oh that was an absolute tip. You were sure one of the maids would come clean it up...but then.

"Girls I'm home." Alcina shouts as she walks through the doors, she spots you and igves you a small smile "hello Y/n" she greets.

"mother" all three girls say from the bathroom she walks over to them with the biggest shock on her face "Bela, Daniela what did you do?" she didn't sound very pleased.

"We dyed our hair, Y/n took us to a store, so it was really her-" Bela slapped her sisters arm really hard to cut her off from her sentence "it wasn't Y/n's fault mother" She then finishes.

Alcina sighs "no it wasn't Y/n's fault but you are all going to clean this up right now."

"But mother the maids-"

"Now! You too Cassandra, also Y/n" she adds before leaving to her room.

"Great, fantastic" you all say in unison.

Help this was terrible, why did I write this ughhh :(

[taeilskitty]

Hii

I noticed your request is open

I'd like to request celibate doyoung smut with arranged marriage au!

Would appreciate it if you could add a lot of nipple play!

Thanks!

Thank you so much for the request!! I really enjoyed writing this so I hope it was good enough. Enjoy love <33

You hadn’t known Doyoung for long.

He was nice enough, he was respectful and pretty funny, good company too. It wasn’t such an issue that you were going to have to be together for, well, ever.

Forever is a long time. In all honesty you’d always dreaded your wedding day because you knew there was no chance of marrying someone you actually loved; that’s a fantasy you knew you’d just have to live out in your next life. But the first time you were introduced to your future husband, you realised that maybe, just maybe, you could make the most of it.

You weren’t best friends by any means, let alone lovers, but at least you were on the same boat. Both living with parents who had a plan since before you were even born, a prophecy they’d already written out for you. Whatever.

Maybe the knowledge of your fate was the reason for it, but you were never overly concerned with love. Of course you wanted it, but you’d learned to be your own person too. And that was great. Doyoung had once admitted that he was relieved about that; “I was worried you’d be disappointed,” he’d told you, “because I can’t do… any of that.”

It sort of warmed your heart. He was fairly open with you, and for that reason was sure not to cross any of your boundaries. You liked that about him. You could certainly get used to seeing his face everyday. And honestly it helped that he was… really fucking hot.

Your wedding was actually really nice, what with all things considered. You made the most of the celebrations and he seemed really calm as opposed to you who was frankly scared shitless. His family liked you, your family liked him, and most importantly you liked each other - or at the very least you tolerated each other.

“I can’t believe you’re my husband,” you laughed once it was all over. “Thank you for making the day a little less scary.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Y/N. Honestly.”

You smiled at Doyoung and looked back out across the moonlit sky. It was proving to be an emotional night, a surreal one at that.

“Before we met I was scared you’d be some creep, like, a total weirdo.”

“You seriously think your parents would let someone treat their kid like shit?” Now he was the one laughing; you both knew your parents were a lot of things, but they’d never want to see you get hurt.

“Okay, fair,” you agreed, and turned back to face him. “I’m surprised they didn’t dump me with someone crazy ugly though.”

Doyoung smirked. “Oh?” His eyes darted away momentarily. “So you do like me. Huh.”

Something told you he was only half kidding, but the giddiness in your gut made you wonder if this was the feeling all the blockbuster romance movies tried to convey. You weren’t in love. But you sure were glad it was him next to you right then.

“Don’t get so cocky.” He gasped sarcastically in response to your playful rejection. “I’ll put up with you.”

“I give it a week before you’re head over heels in love with me.”

Standing up, he looked back sort of expectantly.

“You wish. I think you just want me to be in love with you.”

“You’re married to me,” Doyoung scoffed. “C’mon. Let’s head inside.”

You stood up and looked at him for a moment. He still had that glint in his eye that suggests something isn’t quite right, like he’s waiting for something.

His beauty is… almost unfair. There’s no way your parents’ taste in men was this good, especially when picking some guy out for you. It made no sense - how was he so attractive? You knew it wasn’t just the light because, let’s face it, anyone can see how hot he is.

You sighed, and you shook your head when he asked if something’s wrong.

Doyoung placed a hand on your shoulder. He seemed far more nervous than he did before, particularly when you stepped in just a little closer. He could practically feel your breath mixing with his; your lips almost brushing against each other.

“What?” You ask when he breaks eye contact. “Never kissed anyone before?”

“Actually, no…” He let out a nervous chuckle. “I wanted to wait till I was married. It just feels weird that now I am…”

You weren’t sure why this shocked you, but it kind of made sense. Of course he’d waited, he was so angelic. Not even necessarily innocent by any means, and honestly it wouldn’t have bothered you if he’d slept with 1 or 100 people before. But somehow this made him… cuter?

You vowed not to laugh. You wanted to, not because it was funny or anything, but because it was just kind of endearing. You smiled at him.

“That’s okay, I’m no expert at it.”

Doyoung was silent for a second, but he looked back down at you with confidence in his eyes.

“My parents made a good choice with you.”

The space between your lips finally closed.

-

Despite having no experience, Doyoung knew how to draw whines out of you and kiss you in a way that sent butterflies to your stomach. He tugged on your bottom lip and held you with just enough force to make you feel the perfect amount of helplessness. It came naturally. The kissing, the touching, the clothes coming off. He even took the time to admire your body. How the fuck did he get so perfect?

“You’re really gorgeous, Y/N…” he muttered against the skin of your neck, your hands wandering into his hair. “I’m so glad we found each other.”

“Mmh-” A gentle moan escaped you when he grazed his teeth over your sweet spot. “You’re - you’re so hot.”

Doyoung chuckled a little bit and lay back on your now-shared bed. You’d clambered on top of him nervously, adrenaline coursing through your body, excitement chasing after it. He couldn’t hide how hard he was, not in those boxers - and there was no way you could ignore how big his cock felt strained against you.

“I - are you okay with this?” He asked, pulling away for a moment. The look in his eyes was sincere.

You nod. “God yes.”

That’s when he pulls you back into the depths of his kisses and hisses when your hand tugs at his boxers. He’d waited so long for this moment, and it was happening with someone he couldn’t believe he was so lucky to marry. The pair of you were nervous of course, but the mutual understanding you had was enough. The fact that Doyoung had already asked if you were comfortable made you want him even more for some reason.

“Ride me,” he breathed. “Please.”

Doyoung’s cock felt so fucking good. It stretched you perfectly, which hurt a little more than you’d like to admit but the feeling of him inside you just felt… wow. He threw his head back as you moved on him slowly.

“God, fuck, keep doing that baby,” he moaned.

Baby. The pet name sounded incredible coming from him.

“Yes sir,” You mocked, but the way he cursed under his breath when you said that told you he was into it. “Oh you want me to call you that, don’t you?”

“Shut up.” He was blushing just a little, and brought your lips to his again. “Don’t try and tease me, I can’t take it. Not this time. Seriously.”

Something in Doyoung’s voice sounded desperate. You wanted to taunt him so badly, but despite the fact that he’d never done this before, it made you wince with pleasure to think of all the things he could do to you when you get more comfortable with sex. He wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed up and down your collarbones, bucking his hips up into you. He mentioned how tight you were, how good you felt around his cock and how bad he wanted to cum in you. The rasp in his voice sent you reeling, and you tried to reply but when he took your nipple into his mouth you almost started crying with pleasure.

“F-fuck!!”

It was one of the most incredible sensations, his tongue lolling around the bud paired with his cock deep inside you. The way his teeth nipped against the sensitive skin was enough to make you both cum. You felt… amazing. Clenching around his cock, you dug your nails into his back and whined far louder than you intended; a hand began to play with your other hardened bud and sent your mind into oblivion.

“So good…” He moaned, kissing along the width of your chest to switch sides. The sudden cold air against your spit-sodden nipple made you shudder but the coolness was a part of what made it feel so much better. Doyoung’s tongue flicked and played with you to an unconscious rhythm played by the fingers opposite, not at all in tune with his hips now snapping against you but fuck it felt good. He sort of whimpered, not in a submissive way but in a way that sounded overwhelmed with pleasure. He was clearly enjoying what he was doing, his cock buried in your hole and his mouth on your chest; it was like he’d dreamt of this moment. He’d never admit that he had, not yet anyway, but the anticipation leading up to him finally getting to fuck was a lot for him. As for you… you were no stranger to fantasising. You’d wanted sex for a long time. It felt so much better than you could have hoped; it sure helped that Doyoung actually took the time to focus on how you felt too, but really you were perfectly happy grinding on his huge cock alone.

It slowly built up. The friction was unbearably good. The sensation of his mouth against your chest, his hand gripping your waist for dear life, his cock sliding in and out of you -

“Fuck, fuck--”

You came, hard, clenching and panting and grabbing fistfuls of his hair as you did so. “That’s it,” Doyoung breathed, “cum for me baby.”

You rode your orgasm out on him and tried so hard not to let your entire body jerk with each thrust he made after you came, until finally he followed suit. He moaned into your skin and god, he sounded perfect. The noises that came from the man’s mouth were nothing short of beautiful. This was heaven, or at the very least Earth’s closest replica to it.

“Ah,” he panted, still inside you, allowing the both of you to come down from your high. “Thank you, love…”

“No, thank you,” you laughed. “That - I didn’t think it would feel so good.”

The smug look on his face was pretty hard for him to hide. “Hah. Well. Me neither, to be honest.”

The two of you looked into each other’s eyes once more and you just felt so comfortable. A kiss came so naturally once again, and you realised that maybe, just maybe, spending the foreseeable future together wouldn’t be so bad.

You hadn’t known Doyoung for long.

But it would be a lie if you said you couldn’t see yourself falling for him.