#how to make your rap flow better

[lovebugism]

thigh riding Carmy because he isn't paying attention to you please please please 😭

summary: carmy misses date night and finds a way to work and make you feel good at the same time (2.2k)

pairing: carmy berzatto / f!reader

contents: established relationship, thigh riding, public setting (ish), dirty talk, smut with sprinkles of fluff 18+

Carmy’s office is a windowless concrete cage of chaos. There are a million papers stacked and scattered across his desk, half-hidden beneath books that are flipped open to random pages. You’re not sure how he’s keeping up with any of it. Though, to be fair, you’ve never been able to completely understand his mind.

You know him better than anyone else, but he’s still such a mystery to you sometimes — like a language you can read perfectly but can’t speak all the way. 

You don’t know why he runs himself aground with work even though it kills him, even though he swears the enormity of his desire brings him back to life again. You just know to try and save the drowning man from himself from time to time, and not to let him strangle you with his panic in the process.

“Bear?” you call gently into the amber-lit office, knuckles rapping against the opened door. “You ready?”

Sitting slouched over his desk, you can hear the faint tap tap tapping of his pen against the paper, an anxious tick for his ever-fidgeting fingers. “No. Not— Not yet, baby. I’m fuckin’— I’m drowning in this paperwork right now.”

He lifts his heavy head from his tattooed hand and glances at you over his shoulder. The sight of you makes his breath catch — leaning against the doorframe, all pretty in the lamplight, wearing the dress he bought you.

The deep emerald silk drips over your body like summer rain. It dips low at your chest and flows just above your knees, fitting you like a total dream.

Carmy, for a flicker of a moment, forgets to be anxious. 

While his eyes dart over your form, the rest of the world disappears — it could be entirely falling apart for all he knows, but all he can see now is you. Your stormy eyes, your soft skin, and your quiet sensuality. Your ruby lips, your cheeks like wine, and your gentle voice. 

His mouth falls agape to say words he can’t make out. His ocean eyes go wide, glimmering a deeper blue in the low light — which casts dark shadows over the sharp edges of his face. His gaze is like the sea. You feel yourself drowning in it accordingly.

“It can’t wait?” you press gently, lifting yourself from the doorframe and sauntering slowly towards him. Closing the door behind you, you drop your chin to your chest and flash the boy a sheepish smile. “All the restaurants are gonna close soon.” 

Carmy huffs. He knew better than to plan a date. He’s far too busy — or, rather, he doesn’t allow himself to be anything other than busy because there’s a voice inside him that just won’t be still. Working himself to death was an art he did exceptionally well, which hadn’t bothered him so much until he met you.

“I gotta get this done, babe,” he answers sympathetically, tilting his chin to keep his eyes locked with yours as you near him.

Your familiar scent sets the stagnant air aglow. The warmth of your perfume cradles his senses when you loom beside him. Your hand rises to his shoulder, fingers fidgeting with the swathe of curls at the nape of his neck. His wide palm smooths over your hip — softly calloused against the satiny fabric. 

You smile softly down at him. “So I got all pretty for nothin’?” you tease with a scrunched nose.

“Well, you got all pretty for me, actually,” Carmy corrects.

His pink lips curl in a faint smirk. Your grin widens tenfold. The subtle act of possessiveness, coupled with the strong hand on your waist, makes your chest sparkle. 

“Yeah, I did,” you hum proudly, bending at the waist to press a chaste kiss to his mouth. He tastes fleetingly of nicotine and sweet plum wine — a maddening concoction.

You rise to full height again. Carmy pats your hip twice before his fingers fall away. He turns back to his desk, and you feel half-invisible again. It’s hardly his fault, though. There was something deeply intense about his stone-blue eyes. You feel strangely held when he looks at you, left inevitably mourning every time he turns away.

His pen darts across the gridded page in chicken scratch you can’t make out, worsened by his wrist smudging the ink. Your arms wrap loosely around his neck. You bury your nose in his chestnut curls and inhale the familiar scent of grill smoke and cedarwood. 

“You know I don’t care actually about going out, right?” you mumble there.

Carmy hums, half-distracted. “Mhm.”

“Just wanna spend time with you… Don’t care what we’re doing…”

You press a kiss to his temple. He leans instinctively into your touch. “Well, I’ll make you the best damn PB&J Chicago’s ever seen when we get back home, alright?” he muses with a quiet smile. “How’s that sound?”

“I’m holding you to that, Bear,” you say, grinning into his curls.

“I’m countin’ on it.” Carmy chuckles and lifts his free hand to squeeze your wrist. His touch slips away soon after when he turns back to his work. 

Quiet returns, heavy and deafening, filled only by the distant clanging of pots from stragglers in the kitchen. It makes you strikingly aware of yourself — of the space you’re filling in this tiny office, and the distracting weight of your arms around his neck. Feeling more like a burden, you clear your throat and pull away.

“I’m, uh— I’m gonna see if Richie left yet. Maybe he’ll let me bum a smoke or something.”

Carmy mourns your warmth the second you’re gone. He spins in his swivel chair to face you, laughing to cover up his ache. “What happened to us spending time together?”

He knows how you think. You think he gets so involved in his work that he doesn’t spare you a single thought. But really, he’s so strongly devoted to you that it feels like the emotion could rip him open from the inside.

You squint. “Watching you sign a bunch of paperwork while you pretend I’m not here is not spending time together,” you argue, laughing despite yourself.

“Don’t go. C’mon,” Carmy pleads, very distantly begging. He tilts his head and blinks at you with wide, pleading eyes. “Come sit,” he tells you.

“Sit where?” you scoff.

“In my lap.”

“I’ll squish you,” you insist, giggling.

“Shut up and sit down,” he commands, still playful but leaving little room for argument. His wide palms smooth slowly up and down his denim-clad thighs. Your heart lurches into your throat.

You walk the short distance to him with a huff of feigned annoyance, dress swishing around your knees. Carmy pushes away from his desk to give you space to sit. You take a seat on his lap, just like he asked you to, but he stops you with a pair of strong hands grasping your hips.

“Not like that,” he murmurs.

Your brows furrow in response. “What do you mean?”

“On my thigh,” Carmy corrects, swatting playfully at your clothed hip. “C’mon. Sit right.”

You rise slowly, with a hesitant squint in your eyes. “What are you playing at, Bear?” you wonder lowly, legs spread slightly to welcome his thigh between them.

Carmy bounces his shoulder in a lazy shrug. His tattooed hands creep up the hem of your dress to urge you down onto his lap — the proper way. “You’re the one always sayin’ I’m too busy for you, right?” he responds, hardly expecting a real answer, as he helps you straddle one of his thighs.

The angle is awkward. The old chair leaves little room for the both of you. You’re forced to keep one leg on the ground while the other bends at the knee between his legs. You hold tight to his shoulders, trusting him to keep you steady. Your dress bunches at your hips in the meanwhile. Carmy raises his thigh until it’s flush against your clothed cunt. 

Your breath catches, and he smirks.

“So… You’re gonna cum on my thigh,” he continues casually. “…And after that, we’ll go home, I’ll fuck you like you need, and then I’ll run you a bath… How’s that sound?”

Your stomach swirls with a familiar warmth — which you can feel pooling in your panties now. “What about the PB&J?” you joke in a quiet voice that trembles only slightly.

Carmy scoffs a faint laugh. “After the bath.”

“What about in the bath?”

“Whatever you want,” he assures with a smile. “You just gotta ride me first.”

The lighthearted air turns bone-crushingly sensual in a flicker of a moment. His light eyes pierce you mercilessly, peering into the depths of your soul. You melt for him, going uncharacteristically soft and subservient, just how he likes.

Carmy helps you with a few passes over his thigh. You’re obviously unsure, and he can tell by your hesitant movements. His free hand squeezes your hip, urging you up his leg and down again, until you find your own rhythm. Then he turns back to his work and tries to focus. The soft sound of your breathy moans entwines with the scribbling of his pen.

You rock your hips in measured thrusts, trying to find the proper pace. The delicate fabric of your panties ruts along the rough denim of his jeans — catching your clit perfectly when you buck your hips just right. Lightning strikes down your spine, then. Both alleviating the ache between your thighs and creating a new one all at once. 

Your breath hitches. Pitiful whimpers sound in your throat instead. You bury them all in Carmy’s neck as you hide your face in his shoulder, with your warm cheek pressed to his ear and your fingers balling his shirt in your fists.

There was something foreignly erotic about all this. Being in Carmy’s office, the door unlocked, with Syd and Richie meandering elsewhere in the kitchen. The fear of being caught made your movements quick. Careless. Wild. 

And there was something about Carmy, too. The way he’s got you getting yourself off, with little help from the boy himself, while he busies himself with paperwork. You can hear him scribbling away still, flitting through papers with the hand not holding you. All while you hump his thigh, so desperate for attention. It’s pathetic. And something about it made you feel good.

Your pretty whimpers turn into deeper, breathier moans. Carmy smiles to himself. He can feel the warmth of your cunt despite the layers between you. It makes him wonder if you’ve left a stain on the denim. He prays you’ve left a stain on the denim — wants the mark of your honey stamped there forever.

“You close?” he murmurs when he notices your legs starting to tremble.

You bury a whine in his neck. “Fuck, Bear—”

“Hey,” he hums, pulling away from his paperwork for the first time in several minutes to look at you. 

His long fingers rise from your hip and curl into your hair. He tugs softly at the strands to urge your head back so he can admire his work. Your eyes are lidded and glassy, your lips swollen and parted — already fucked-out, and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

“I asked if you were close,” he repeats, unsmiling.

“Yes,” you manage through a whimper.

His grip on your hair slackens. His touch returns to your hip, encouraging your rapid movements. His pink lips quirk in the faintest hint of a smile. “Good,” he praises. “Good girl. Keep going.”

You bury your face in his neck again, lips curling around your teeth to stifle the moans swelling there. Your hips lose their rhythm as the threat of your orgasm grows. Your clit pounds like a second heartbeat. You briefly wonder if Carmy can feel it, and the thought alone sends you reeling.

“Carmy,” you keen, voice wavering. “I’m gonna cum.”

You feel him nod against you. He licks his lips and turns his head. His nose squishes your temple; his wet mouth brushes your ear. 

“Do it, then. C’mon,” he mumbles against you, coaxing you closer towards your pleasure — not because he’s a pro at the whole dirty-talking thing, but because he knows how much you like it. “Be a good girl and cum on my thigh. Come on.”

You last two more passes up and down his lap before you tense on top of him. Your hips still as you whimper into his shoulder, shuddering hard when your orgasm washes over you.

“Atta girl,” Carmy praises. “Keep cumming for me.”

He drops his pen and finally turns away from his work. He grips your hips with both hands and works you the rest of the way through your orgasm. You let him, for a few agonizing moments, until your high fades and leaves you achingly sensitive.

You inhale sharply through your nose and reach suddenly for his wrists. “No more,” you plead, then exhale a breathy chuckle.

When you part from his neck, Carmy ducks his head to catch your averted gaze. His wide eyes dart over your pleasure-stricken features. “You good?” he wonders. His words have lost any hint of sensuality. He’s always serious about checking in on you.

You nod and swallow hard. “’M good,” you promise, then freeze when your knee nudges his half-hard cock. “Are you good?” you parrot.

Carmy scoffs a breathy chuckle. “I’m almost done here— go bum a smoke from Richie, alright? I’ll out in a second.” 

He kisses you softly. A chaste kiss that’s perhaps too innocuous for such a honeyed moment. You rise on tired legs, and he swats playfully at your side. “How’s that for spending time together, huh?” he calls over his shoulder as you wrench open the office door.

“You’re an idiot, Bear.”

[softspokendove]

A Second High

Boyfriend!Thanos x Female!reader

Your boyfriend comes home from getting high with his friends, the only thing on his mind is you and making you feel good.

—

You expected your boyfriend to be home late, but not this late. It was one of his usual nights of going out with his friends doing god knows what, rap battles, trashing cars and random stores, getting himself in trouble and having to send you a late night call from a jail cell. You’ve gotten pretty tired of asking what he was going to do and when he’d be back, you just knew to always have your phone on you and to finally enjoy your peace and quiet.

It was surprising to find out the longer you dated him the more clingy he’d let himself get around you. Everywhere you’d look he’d always be near you in some sort of way. When you’d let him he’d always have his hands on you, just a simple touch of his hand on your thigh calmed him. What surprised you even more was how he was beginning to prefer being with you to his friends.

He used to be so excited to go out and get high, just doing about anything he wanted. But now whenever his friends would text him he’d ignore it or make some kind of excuse. You brought it up one time, asking him why he hasn’t seen them in a while, all he did was shrug and continue toying with your hair. His friends started to pick up on it and were getting annoyed. This time they came over instead of texting and practically dragged him out of the house to come hang out.

Here you were laying in bed, tiredness being long forgotten as your mind runs with worried thoughts about Thanos. You know he can take care of himself and he’s always been fine all the other times they used to hang out; maybe his clinginess is rubbing off on you. As you roll over for the 10th time your heart jumps as you hear a key being put inside the front doors lock. A huge sigh of relief flowing out of you at the sound of your boyfriend’s feet stumbling through the living room.

“Baby?”

You go to reply back but see him walking into your shared bedroom, his face lighting up at the sight of you. “Hey baby, were you sleeping?”

You shake your head, “no, I can’t fall asleep.”

He puts a small frown on his face at your words. “You need some help?” Thanos didn’t need you to answer as he already starts climbing into bed and wraps his arms around your waist, tugging your body towards his. He shoves his face into your hair and inhales your smell, letting out a little hum.

Your curiousness gets the best of you, “so what did you guys do?”

He brushes your hair out of your face and tilts your head so you can look at him better, “the boys tried getting me to rap battle this one guy.” He shakes his head and fiddles with the strap of your tank top, “I wasn’t up for it, so we just smoked and hung out.”

You give him a little smile as you cup his cheek, he leans into the simple touch. “I wanted to come home hours ago, they took my car keys.” He leans down and plants a gentle kiss on your lips, “I missed you.”

You return the kiss, “I missed you too.”

“No, like I really missed you.”

He doesn’t let you move away from him and pulls you closer. His lips returning to yours but making the kiss last longer than the one before. A little noise creeps up his throat and hits your ears. His hand moves down towards your waist and pulls it towards him.

The need for oxygen becomes too much, you try to pull away but instead earn a whine from Thanos as he continues to follow your lips. “Baby I need to breathe.” He reluctantly obliges and kisses down your chin to your neck, sucking the skin around your pulse. You let out a small sigh at the sensation and lean your head back to give him more room. He pushes you backwards on the bed and hovers above you as he continues to attack your neck.

His hands slip under your top and roam around your stomach and sides. The little noises you let escape your mouth encourages him further as he sucks harder, starting to leave bruises on multiple parts of your neck. When he goes more down towards your collar bone you let your fingers tangle through his hair and give a small tug earning a deep groan from him.

He uses his teeth to pull your tank top down to let your boobs free, his mouth immediately attaching to one of your nipples, his left hand toying with the other one doing the same motions that he does with his tongue. “Mm Thanos.” He moans in response to his name sounding so good and whiny coming out of you.

When he feels you starting to squirm and get impatient he lets go of your boobs. He slowly lowers his body down to where you need him, leaving kisses on your body in his way. As he reaches your panties he gives them a kiss, his lips hitting your clit through the fabric causing your breath to hitch.

“I missed you so much princesa.”

His fingers curl around the straps of your panties and start slowly sliding them down your legs, he throws the material somewhere in the room. Your cunt being in perfect display for him.

“You look so pretty, I can’t believe you’re mine.”

Before Thanos could stop himself he starts kissing your cunt as he would kiss you. His tongue peaking out through his lips and hitting your clit just right. Your fingers give his hair another tug as you try to lift your hips up towards his face, seeking more attention. Thanos smiles at your neediness and gives you what you want, the only thoughts running through his mind are to make you feel good.

He parts his lips and licks strips up and down your cunt collecting all your juices. He sucks your clit into his mouth and uses his tongue to run patterns on it. After a few moments he lets your bundle of nerves go and sticks his tongue inside of you, getting a full taste of just how sweet you are.

He groans, “Fuck baby you taste so good.” His tongue goes as deep as it can inside of you as Thanos tries to get everything he can of you.

When he comes back up he goes to give the same attention to your clit as before, but this time he pushes a finger inside of you so your walls have something to clamp down on. Your cunt spasms around his finger, you feel yourself getting to your brink but you just need more.

“More please.”

Thanos hums at your begging and gives you another one of his fingers. Your walls stretch around two of his digits as he increases the pace of his tongue on your clit. His other hand moves up towards your chest and starts toying with your nipples, the pleasure mixing with your lower pleasure. The tightness in your stomach starts to get stronger as your cunt starts pulsing in his mouth.

“There you go sweetheart, cum for me.”

Your noises get louder the closer you get to your release. You subconsciously push his head deeper into you as your other hand grips the bed sheets. You feel his tongue tracing letters on your clit.

T

H

A

N

O

S

And again on repeat.

This brings you to your edge. You let out a high pitch moan as your cunt gushes around Thanos’s fingers and into his mouth. He lets go of your clit so you don’t get too sensitive and moves back down to lick up the remainder juices.

He moves back up your body when he’s satisfied and pushes his two fingers inside of your mouth, letting you get a taste of yourself. “See how good you taste?” You nod your head as you suck on him.

“I could live off of you. You’re like a high that I never come down from. I’m never leaving you.”

-

A/n: let’s be real here, Thanos is definitely the guy that loves giving his girlfriend head and tracing his name with his tongue on her.

[ktownshizzle]

Nerd & Nerdier | Chapter 3

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x reader, Jeon Wonwoo x reader; endgame? x reader ✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Fluff, Attempt At Comedy, Roommates au, Love triangle

✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: Moving in with two introverts should have been easy. Not when it’s Min Yoongi and Jeon Wonwoo, who decide they both want you. Unhinged, awkward, and nerdy as hell, they proceed to compete for your attention in the most unnecessarily dramatic fashion that culminates into a… rap battle.

✎ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: Wildly gratuitous, You might 100% chance you’ll fall in love with both of them so that’s a problem, no mxm dynamics to be expected

✎ ˎˊ˗Chapter Warnings: reader felt violated while in the club, both men are down so bad

✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 1.8k ✎ ˎˊ˗ Posting date: February 26, 2025

✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: Everyday I continue to find My People who understand the obsession with this cat and this ghost in a deep, cellular, molecular level. So here we go… Thank you Cathy Jae <3

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Ch 1 | Ch 2

Roommate Rule #3: If Your Bickering Roommates Start Acting Strangely in Sync, Something is Most Definitely Up.

After that night, a weird calm settles over the apartment.

No more rap battles. No passive-aggressive co-op games. No intense staring contests over meals.

It should feel normal, better even? But it doesn’t.

Plus, now, whenever you’re home, they’re both there. Always. Kinda hovering.

It’s never just Yoongi in the kitchen, grumbling about how you keep putting the spices in the wrong order. It’s never just Wonwoo on the couch, lost in a book but somehow still aware of everything you do.

It’s both of them.

At first, you chalk it up to coincidence. Maybe their schedules just aligned, or maybe you’re overthinking things. But then a whole week passes, and you realize—no, this is intentional.

And you have no idea what to make of it.

At work, a colleague from another department—Hyunjae—strikes up a conversation by the coffee machine. He’s nice, seems harmless, and when he asks you out to dinner, you say yes.

Because why not?

You don’t have a boyfriend. Your weird roommates haven’t exactly made anything explicit. And maybe—maybe—this is exactly what you need to clear your head.

That night, when you tell Yoongi and Wonwoo about the date, their reactions are... expected?

They don’t react that much. They don’t even comment on how you're looking hella cute with your lilac dress and heels. Stoic, as per usual.

Yoongi leans back in his chair, nodding once. "Have fun."

Wonwoo barely looks up from his phone. "Yeah. Hope it goes well."

But their voices are just a little too flat. Their movements a little too controlled.

As you do a final check on the contents of your bag (card, keys, mint, lip tint), Wonwoo casually mentions that he’s streaming tonight—his gaming channel has been blowing up lately and Yoongi tells you to call him if anything happens. Guess that’s that.

It’s fine. Everything is fine.

Except it’s not. Because the date was bad.

Dinner was okay, but when you went to the bar next door, the guy got pushy once the drinks started flowing. A hand on your waist that lingered too long. Fingers grazed your thigh like he had a right to.

You felt off. Uncomfortable. A little violated.

You told him off and walked away.

You lock yourself in the ladies bath room. Fuck. You stare at your phone. There’s only one voice you hear in your head as you stroll through your contact list. You just hope he answers.

Of course he does, on the second ring.

“Yoongi? Can you, umm, can you pick me up?”

"Where are you?" Yoongi asks, voice a little sharp. “Are you okay?”

You tell him the club’s name, and you barely get through the sentence of telling him you’re hidden away because you don’t want to be with your date anymore, before he says, "Stay where you are. I’m coming."

Fifteen minutes later, he’s here and the rush of relief mixes with the cool air as you exit the bathroom stall you've taken residence in.

You see him before he sees you. Black button down, dark jeans, and fire in his eyes, but when they land on you, something in his expression shifts—softens just slightly.

He’s at your side in an instant.

"You good?" 

You nod, but your throat feels tight. 

He exhales sharply, jaw clenched. "Where is he?"

You shake your head. "Probably gone. It’s fine."

It’s not fine, but you don’t want him to cause a scene.

Yoongi doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push even as you see him tensely run his fingers through his hair. Instead, his other hand find yours, wrapping around your wrist—not pulling, not rushing. Just there.

And then, without thinking, you step into him.

You don’t know why. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe it’s just Yoongi. The way his presence alone has made you feel safe after a night of shaky thoughts.

Suddenly, the music around you fades. And all you feel is him. Warm, steady, strong.

His arms come up instinctively, one wrapping around your back, the other resting against the nape of your neck. You’ve never done this before, but somehow it feels like you have.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to when you feel his heart hammering inside his chest to mirror your own.

You breathe him in—a faint trace of cologne you're now so familiar with, something distinctly Yoongi—and you don’t know what to do with the way your heart twists inside your chest.

When you finally pull back, Yoongi searches your face. "Let’s go home."

You nod, letting him lead you out, your hand clasped in his.

You don’t sleep that night.

Not because of the date, not because of the club, but because of the voices in the kitchen.

You hear them some minutes after you turn off your bedroom light.

Hushed but heated.

You don’t want to eavesdrop, but you don’t exactly want to interrupt either. So you press your ear to the door and listen.

"You should have called me." Wonwoo’s voice is sharper than usual.

"She called me." Yoongi’s tone is steady but defensive.

"That’s not the point, hyung."

A pause.

"Then what is the point?"

Wonwoo exhales harshly. "You can't pull shit like this."

"Like what?"

"Like running to her first."

“You were streaming, when she called. You think I'd wait for you? She was crying…”

Your breath catches.

Silence stretches between them, heavy and suffocating.

Then, quieter: "It’s not fair."

Something in Wonwoo’s voice makes your chest ache.

You don’t know what possesses you to move, but suddenly, your feet are carrying you toward the kitchen. Before you can think twice, you push the door open.

They both turn at the same time.

Yoongi leans against the counter, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. Wonwoo stands stiffly near the sink, his jaw tight.

You take a breath, steadying yourself. "What the hell is going on?"

Neither of them speak.

You cross your arms. "I’m serious. You two have been acting weird for weeks. First, you’re constantly competing, then suddenly, you’re always together like some weird tag-team act. And now you’re fighting over who picks me up when I call for help?"

Still, silence. 

You swallow hard, but you’re unable to stop the nagging question in your head. "I need to know. Is this… Am I like a bet or something?”

“NO!” both men bellow.

You exhale a shaky breath. “Then what’s the deal?"

Silence. Again.

Yoongi and Wonwoo are both staring at you, like they’re waiting for you to say something. But instead, you exhale and lean back, crossing your arms.

“You know what?” you say, voice steady. “I think you two need to figure out if you actually…” Fuck you’ll say it if they can’t. “…like me… or if you just like competing with each other.”

That hits.

You let the silence stretch. Let them sit with it.

Because this whole thing—this weird, passive-aggressive, emotionally constipated mess—has never really been about you. Not the way it should be.

“I like both of you,” you continue, watching them carefully. “And maybe that’s selfish. But I don’t want to pick between two people who haven’t even stopped to ask themselves if what they feel is about me or just… winning.”

Yoongi looks away first. Wonwoo’s fingers twitch against his knee.

“So,” you say, standing up. “Figure it out. And let me know in the morning or… I’ll just move out.”

And with that, you leave them stewing.

Morning comes too fast.

When you step into the kitchen, you immediately pause.

Because—

What the fuck.

Yoongi is leaning against the counter, one hand tucked into the pocket of his sweats, wearing an offhandedly sexy fitted black t-shirt like he didn’t just wake up ten minutes ago. His hair is still a little messy, but in a good way—in the kind of way that makes you wonder what he looked like rolling out of bed.

And Wonwoo?

Wonwoo is sitting at the kitchen table, scrolling through his phone, looking like a fucking editorial ad in his oversized crewneck and glasses. The morning light is doing too much for him, highlighting his sharp jaw and the way his fingers tap absentmindedly against the table.

They both glance up when you walk in.

And they both smile.

Oh, hell no.

“Absolutely not,” you say immediately, pointing at them. “You do not get to look this good this early in the morning.”

Yoongi chuckles, taking a sip of his coffee. “Didn’t realize there were rules about that.”

“There are now,” you mutter.

Wonwoo grins, “You look cute when you’re grumpy, noona.”

You shake your head, unable to keep your cheeks from flushing despite being slightly annoyed with both of them, still.

Yoongi gestures vaguely. "You were right last night. About us. About this."

Wonwoo leans forward, fingers interlocked. "We both like you, noona. We won’t deny it."

Yoongi sets his cup down. “So we have an offer.”

You raise a brow, leaning against the counter. “Oh?”

Wonwoo tilts his head slightly, watching your reaction. “We’re going to take you on dates.”

You blink. “…What?”

“Dates,” Yoongi repeats. “One with me. One with him. Or more. Up to you…”

You stare at them. “And then?”

“And then,” Wonwoo continues, “you can decide.”

You narrow your eyes. “You two came up with this plan together?”

Yoongi shrugs.

You cross your arms. “And what if I don’t want to go on these dates?”

Yoongi answers: “Then we drop it. No pressure.”

"And if I don’t choose either of you?"

Wonwoo sighs. "Then we take the L."

…Huh. You hadn’t expected this.

You had expected stubbornness. Maybe even another argument.

Yoongi tilts his head as your eyes dart between the two of them.. "But let’s be real. That’s not happening."

"Yah!" You gape at him. "Are you fuckin’ serious right now?"

Yoongi grins. Wonwoo just waits.

You exhale, tapping your fingers against the counter. “Bet.”

Yoongi lifts a brow. Wonwoo licks his lips, now smiling.

“Alright,” you confirm. “Show me what you got.”

And judging by the looks on their faces, you have a feeling they plan to.

Chapter 4 >

A/N: To be in the middle of this love triangle is my most fervent dream, hope you enjoyed reading this! xo

QUESTIONS!!! Who should get their date first? Where should they go? Also, do you kiss on the first date? ;)

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Divider by: @cafekitsune (thank you!)

[sargebarnesx]

Jealousy

Pairing: Jim Hopper x female reader

Rating: 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Age gap, dirty talk, unprotected sex, sex in his office, Hop’s a bit of a dom

Words: 2.3k ish?

Summary: Phil Callahan has a massive crush on you and Jim Hopper doesn’t want to admit that he’s jealous.

Author’s Note: please forgive me for two things: 1. If Hopper seems a bit OOC, it’s been a while since I’ve watched ST but I’ve been sitting on this idea for a while. 2. If I missed any warning/info that should have been provided. I haven’t posted fanfic on tumblr in about a decade so I’m out of practice. Hope y’all enjoy though!

Jim Hopper would never admit to being jealous.

He would describe himself as laid back when it came to relationships. Besides, when was he ever tied down to anyone long enough to get jealous? He would go with the flow, which usually meant he would have one night stand after one night stand and never call any of them ever again.

Until he met you.

You were a decade younger, but that didn’t bother him. You had a past, hell, so did he. He didn’t care. You started working at the station, that was great, he could see you every day and he definitely didn’t mind that. There was only one thing that seemed to be bothering him lately…

Phil Callahan had a massive crush on you.

Jim Hopper would never admit to being jealous, especially not of Phil Callahan.

You wore tight skirts and cute heels to work, a stark contrast from Flo’s ankle-length dresses and sensible shoes. You were young and pretty, what did he expect? You spent a lot of your time flittering around the station, helping where you could, filing, cleaning, making and answering calls. In between all of that, you found time to innocently flirt with Phil. You knew what you were doing; you knew it was going to make Jim’s blood boil every time he caught you sitting on the corner of Phil’s desk in your tight black skirt that hugged the curve of your ass perfectly. You were putting on a show, albeit one that had maybe gone on for too long. But you wanted to see how long it would take Hopper to crack.

Your white button-up top exposed your collarbone, giving everyone at the station a tiny peek of the smooth skin hiding underneath it. The black pumps that adorned your feet made a clicking sound as you walked back and forth and back and forth. Every time you passed by Jim’s open office door, he looked up from his paperwork in the hope of catching a glimpse. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.

Neither could Phil.

Why did that make him seethe with jealousy?

Deep down, he knew why. He knew why seeing another man’s eyes rake over your body drove him absolutely insane.

He knew it was because that body had been writhing underneath him a mere seven hours ago. He knew it was because when you woke up next to him this morning, all you wanted was his dick in your mouth. He knew that you were probably still thinking about the way he railed you before your morning shower with your hair wrapped around his fist. How could you not be? He certainly was.

You were walking around the station with a familiar swing in your hips, a skip in your step, humming one of your favorite songs. Flo had commented that you were in a surprisingly good mood for a Monday morning. No one knew the things the two of you did off the clock and Jim wasn’t sure if they should. He didn’t want people to think you only had a job because you were screwing the chief. You deserved a better reputation than the one he had earned.

Jim heard the clicking of your heels getting closer as you approached his office. “Hey chief,” you say, rapping your knuckles against the door frame. You held a brown folder in your hand. “Whatcha got?” Hopper asks, holding his hand out to take the folder. Before you could respond, you slowly pushed the door closed. “Somethin’ serious?” Jim raises an eyebrow at your actions but doesn’t question you further. You set the folder down on his desk gently.

“I can feel your eyes on me every time I walk by,” you say, sitting in the chair opposite his desk and crossing your legs at the knee. Hopper leans back in his chair, stretching his legs out. You can feel the tip of his shoe rub against your ankle. “Yeah?” He remarks, “Can you feel Callahan’s too?” You nod, rolling your eyes, “Of course I can, but you looking up from your paperwork each time I walk by is what’s got me distracted.”

Hopper smirks, dragging his eyes over your exposed thighs. “Is that so?” He asks, “Not Callahan panting like a dog at your feet?”

You run a hand slowly through your hair, flipping it to one side. “Phil has been like that since high school. Unfortunately, he doesn’t seem to realize that if he hasn’t gotten any from me by now, he never will,” you explain. Hopper nods, his face emotionless as he moves his legs away from you. You follow his actions and lean in toward his desk.

“Besides,” you say, “I’ve had a lot on my mind today and I can’t say Phil Callahan has crossed it even once. You, on the other hand…”

“Me?” Jim asks, leaning back in his chair with his hands crossed behind his head, “What about me?”

He knows what he’s doing. That was your invitation and he knows you’ll take it. He watches as your mouth quirks up the tiniest bit in the corner, always one for a challenge. Hopper watches intently as you stand and make your way around the desk. He happily obliges when you motion for him to push his chair back a bit.

His hands immediately fly to the backs of your thighs when you straddle him and he has to hold back a groan as your hot pussy brushes against him. He takes in a sharp breath as you lean close to his ear.

“The chief wants to know what I’m thinkin’?” Your breath is hot against the shell of his ear. He nods, rubbing his hands from the backs of your knees to the curve of your ass. “I’m thinkin’ about your cock, chief, and how it feels when you’re filling up my pussy,” you place a kiss on the side of his neck, “I’m thinkin’ about laying back on this desk so you can fuck me right now.”

Jim presses his face in the crook of your neck to hide his groan. He hopes his office is far enough away from everyone so they can’t hear him. “You feel too good, baby,” he thrusts his hips up, trying to get closer but there are too many layers, “You know I’ll be too loud.”

You kiss him, deep and hard, taking his hands and pushing them onto your ass. “Maybe Phil will hear you and realize he doesn’t stand a chance,” you whisper with a smirk against his mouth. Hopper squeezes your ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, undoubtedly leaving a mark.

You push yourself back up into a standing position, then take a seat on his desk. “So, are you gonna help me?” You ask, placing your right foot on the arm of his chair, feeling your skirt ride up. His eyes rake over you, going from your hip to your ankle, and you can tell his fingers are itching to touch you. “Or am I gonna have to do it myself?” You lift your left leg and place it on the opposite arm, exposing yourself to him. You trail your fingers down between your legs, feeling the wet heat that has soaked your panties.

“Touch me,” you whine, pushing your panties to the side to thrust a finger deep into your throbbing pussy, “please.” He watches under hooded eyes, his hands resting on your ankles. Your finger circles your clit and you hold back a moan, remembering that there’s only a door separating the two of you from everyone else. His hands creep higher and he traces lightly across your skin. “Unbutton your shirt,” he murmurs. You pull your fingers away from your pussy, wet and glistening, and slowly slip your buttons open.

One by one, you expose the skin of your chest to him. He can see the black lace of your bra and the swell of your breasts, heaving up and down as you pull your shirt off. “Fuck,” he mutters, “You’re so damn beautiful.” He gets closer to you with these words, filling the space between your thighs. He places a kiss at the base of your throat and you gasp as his beard tickles your skin. “Jim…” you groan, “I need you right now.”

He stands, crowding you, towering over you, with one hand on his belt buckle. You can see how hard he is, how his big dick strains against his uniform pants. “You gonna be a good girl and let me fuck you on my desk?” He asks under his breath, palming himself over his pants. You nod, lying back over folders and papers. He hooks a finger in each cup of your bra and pulls, exposing your tight, hard nipples. “You are so turned on, baby,” he whispers against your nipple before wrapping his lips around you, “Bet that sweet pussy is soaked.”

A chill runs down your spine at his words. You want nothing more than to have him ram his thick cock inside of you, but his tongue on your tits is driving you absolutely insane. You wrap your legs around his waist. “Jim, please,” you’re getting desperate at this point. You want him inside you now.

His belt falls open first. Then he pops open the button and lowers the zipper. You’re one layer away from finally feeling him. You tighten your legs and pull him into you, whining when you feel his length pressed against you. “Easy, baby,” he says softly, “Be patient.”

He pulls away from you and pushes his boxers down, finally. His cock bobs between the two of you and he hisses when the cool air hits him. He pumps himself a few times while you watch, wetness pooling between your legs. You want your panties off, you want him to fill you up, you want to feel him. “You ready for this cock, baby?” He says. You nod, “I’ve been ready. You know this pussy is yours.” He smirks, reaches under your skirt, and pulls your panties down your legs in one movement. You squirm as he takes his place back between your thighs. The head of his cock brushes against you and you moan, bucking your hips towards him.

Jim is grinning; he loves seeing how much you want him, how much you need him.

“You want it all?”

You nod again.

He pushes into you, so familiar, so filling. He groans into your mouth, bites down on your lip, and pumps his hips back and forth. You’re gripping his biceps, your noses are touching, and his eyes are trained on yours.

“Atta girl,” he groans, “Atta fuckin’ girl, taking my cock like this. Taking my cock on my desk at the station. You think Callahan could take you like this? You think Callahan could make your pussy this wet?”

You shake your head.

“You want Callahan to fuck you on his desk out there? You wanna tease him until he can’t take it anymore?”

His thrusts are getting sloppy, his desk is creaking beneath you. He’s already gotten you there twice and is working towards a third. “Oh…baby…girl…fuck,” he moans, his words each enunciated by a snap of his hips. Your hands are gripping the hair at the base of his neck and you know without a doubt that your bottom lip will have an intense indent from your teeth.

“You want my cum? You want it deep inside this pussy?” He growls. You nod, unable to form words, unable to think with the cloud of bliss that is currently fogging up your brain. “Use your words, baby. I wanna hear you…” he says, gripping your wrists and slamming them down on his desk above your head. “Yes,” you whisper, your voice shaking, “Yes, please, cum inside me.”

Suddenly, you feel like a rubber band snaps somewhere deep inside of you. Your back arches off of the desk and your eyes squeeze shut; you wish he didn’t have your hands pinned above your head because you’d love to dig your nails into his strong shoulders. Then he’s moaning - loud and deep, while he spills himself inside of you. Your body goes limp as he wraps his arms around you. He’s so warm and you cry out at the absence of his heat when he pulls out of you. “Jim…” you whine.

“Shh,” he says, digging through his drawers to find a random towel that he knows is buried in there somewhere. It’s scratchy and has a couple of holes, but he uses it to clean you up. His rough grips have turned to soft touches. He gingerly puts your heels back on your feet while you fix your bra and pull your shirt back on. When you stand, he pulls the bottom of your skirt down and gives your ass a gentle squeeze.

It’s a silent remark, something that tells you he enjoyed himself, that he loves you, and that he wouldn’t mind a round two this evening when you both get home.

“How do I look?” You ask, gesturing to your hair. Hopper leans back in his chair and lights a cigarette, “Gorgeous, as always.”

You smooth your hands through your hair and quickly swipe under your eyes, realizing then that you’ve been in Hopper’s office for far too long, your mascara is far too smeared, and your once crisp and perfect shirt is far too wrinkled.

With one last glance at him, you reach for his office door handle and pull it open. An officer is standing there, frozen in place with his fist in the air as though he was about to knock. You slip past him, grab a stack of folders on your way back to your desk, and call over your shoulder, “Oh, hi Phil!”

[daizedndconfused]

hello!! how are you?? i was wondering if i could request something to do with cole brookstone 🫣

please could it be something about him and the reader have a sleepover at the readers house and its just fluff!! you could write about them making dinner together or something

idk if you’d be down to write this and i hope i’ve done it right, this is my first time requesting anything 😭

slumber party

a/n: hii ofc you can!! i’m doing good thanks sorry this took a while haha but thanks for being patient with me <3 this was such a cute prompt btw i had a lot of fun writing this

characters: cole brookstone x reader (established relationship)

type: fluff!!

warnings: none (not proofread)

synopsis: you sneak cole into your house for a sleepover while your parents are out of town

word count: 2.5 k

Your boyfriend was perfectly punctual. So when the clock struck four the rap at your window didn’t come as a shock to you.

Smiling to yourself, you got up from your bed and bounded over to your curtain covered window. Sliding away the light fabric, the grinning face of your boyfriend waited for you, perched on the roof below.

“What do you have against the front door?” you asked as you swung the window open.

Cole gracefully hoisted himself up and vaulted into your room, his landing ever so silent.

“It just doesn’t feel right.” Cole gave you a quick peck on the lips, pulling away with a lovesick smile. “Hi, honey.”

“Hi, Cole,” you smiled at the term of endearment, linking your fingers behind his neck.

You and Cole had been planning this weekend for months. Being eighteen and finishing up your senior year of high school, your parents still weren’t extremely open to your boyfriend spending the night.

To them it didn’t matter if he was a ninja with honor practically flowing from his bloodstream, the bottom line was he was your boyfriend and therefore no sleepovers. Apparently his boyfriend title outranked his ninja status.

Who knew?

But none of that mattered this weekend. This weekend your parents were out of town for a wedding. Of course they suspected you’d pull something like this, but before they could even bring it up, you told them Cole was going to a training camp that weekend as well.

A lie, but a necessary one. That meant you two had the whole house to yourself for the entire weekend. You were giddy just thinking about it.

“What did you tell the elders?” you asked him.

Your parents weren’t the only problem. If either of you thought Wu, Garmadon, or Misako would be fine with this stunt you guys were pulling–dead wrong.

They loved you, seeing as you had been to the monastery countless times, but they were like Cole’s parents. And they also didn’t approve of sleepovers.

“Got everyone else to cover for me,” he assured you. “As far as the elders are concerned I’m violently sick and extremely contagious.”

You shook your lead with a laugh. “You better hope they don’t try to bring you medicine.”

Cole shook his head. “Locked it and snuck out the window. And I told Jay to tell them I brought a bunch of medicine into my room so they didn’t have to.”

“Very smooth,” you complimented.

“Yeah, come one give me some credit.” Cole scooped you up bridal style. “I can lie when I have to.”

“Which is usually never.”

“Only when it means I can spend time with my beautiful girlfriend,” Cole beamed as you two flopped down on your bed.

“Aren’t you the charmer?”

“Always have been.”

“Lies,” you poke his cheek resulting in a shared laugh. “So, whole house to ourselves. Whatever should we do first?”

The two of you looked at each other. Twin smirks on both your faces.

“Are you done yet?” Cole huffed from below you, doom-scrolling on his phone. You peeked over his shoulder a few times and saw that he was watching edits of himself. Both liking and saving them too.

“One second,” you mumbled around the cap of your marker. “So impatient.”

“I’ve been laying here for hours,” he complained.

“Hour–singular,” you corrected, removing the cap from your mouth and clicking it back onto the marker. “You’d know that if you went to school.”

Cole turned his head and shot you a glare over his bare shoulder. You laughed at the sight, ruffling his dark hair.

“You and I both know Misako homeschools us.” Cole attempted to get up, but you pushed down on his shoulders from your position–straddled over his lower back.

“Wait!” you insisted, leaning over his back to snatch his phone out of hands.

He protested slightly, but it was back in his hands in no time. You had just used it to snap a picture of the artwork you had done on his skin.

“Is that my dragon?” Cole asked, a hint of awe in his tone.

It was indeed. Using a marker that was one hundred percent safe for skin, you tested out a new design on your boyfriend. The idea had been in your head for a long time, you just didn’t have a suitable canvas until now.

“Mhmm,” you confirmed, pecking his cheek, looking at the picture on his phone.

The earth dragon’s strong wings stretched over the width of his broad shoulders while the dragon’s body and tail resided down the expanse of his back, ending just above his waistband.

“That’s a crazy amount of detail.” Cole zoomed in on the head of the dragon where you had drawn out his crown of spikes and added texture to most of your drawing.

“Maybe I’ll give you a tattoo one day,” you shrugged, climbing off his back allowing him to throw his shirt back on.

Cole was no stranger to tattoos. In fact, he had some. A few small ones here and there, but he told you if you ever got your hands on professional equipment, he’d let you give him a tattoo.

He even has your initials behind his right ear. You remember staring at it for hours after he finally showed you.

“Come on,” you patted his back. “I’m starving.”

“Starving means food, I’m in.” He hopped up immediately, following you down the stairs and into your kitchen.

The two of you forged for something you could make a meal out of. Luckily, your parents had just restocked all the groceries since they were going out of town.

“How does pasta with a side of salad and garlic bread sound?” You asked from within the fridge.

You felt a presence walk up behind you, and suddenly your boyfriend’s strong hands were on your hips, his front pressed against your back.

“I’ll eat anything you make, gorgeous,” he said, breath brushing against your left ear as he reached up and grabbed the lettuce and dressing from the top shelf of the fridge.

You turned in his arms and gave him a quick kiss. “Pasta it is.”

“Want me to–?”

“You can put the lettuce in a bowl and add the dressing.” You cut him off quickly.

Unfortunately, it seemed like that was the only task he could complete successfully. Throwing things into a bowl he could do. Anything else? Not so much.

You don’t mind much. Not everyone’s a good cook. And you personally find it much more fun with his company.

You saw the slight pout on his face, but he knew you were right.

“You can add whatever else you want if you can find it in the fridge,” you said over your shoulder while grabbing the pasta from the pantry and a few more things to make the sauce recipe your mom taught you.

“Yeah, yeah,” he waved a dismissing hand while the other grabbed a larger bowl for the salad.

Laughing softly, you made your way back to the stove to boil some water, and get started on the sauce.

You were in the midst of stirring and setting a timer when music flowed from the speakers built into your ceiling. Turning around, you saw Cole sat on one of the barstools, phone in hand as he nodded along to the song.

“Elvis?” you asked, pointing upward.

Cole nodded in confirmation. “Suspicious Minds is one of my favorites.”

“Mine too,” you smiled before leaning over to check on the boiling noodles.

It wasn’t long before you were being spun around. Taken aback, you almost tripped over your own feet, but he was there to catch you. He always has been.

Hazel eyes met your own, and you couldn’t help but mirror his elated expression.

“Dance with me?” he offered.

You just pulled him closer in response. One of his hands curled around your waist, while the other gently clasped your hand that wasn’t planted on his shoulder.

Unsurprisingly, Cole was a good dancer. Other than the fact he had amazing balance being a ninja, his father taught him to dance as a kid. While Cole didn’t love it like his father did, he loved dancing with you.

The two of you sound around each other and between the counter and the island as Suspicious Minds continued to play from above.

Neither of you could keep the grins off your faces, and you couldn’t help but laugh as he dipped and spun you. His strength just made dancing with him all the more entertaining. He could lift you with one hand above his head if he wanted.

However, the blare of the timer you had set had your feet faltering to a stop and ducking under his arm to check on the things at the stove.

You gave the sauce another quick stir before lowering the heat before moving to strain the pasta. Before you could get to it, Cole had placed a dish towel on either side and carried it to the strainer in the sink.

Steam wafted up into the air as he tipped the pot over the bowl of the sink.

“Thank you,” you sing-songed as he returned the strands of pasta to the original now water free pot.

“No problem, gorgeous,” he gave you a heroic smile before moving to take the garlic bread out of the oven as well.

Watching as he carefully slid the bread out of the hot space, you couldn’t help but be thankful that you caught him first before some other girl beat you to it.

“What is it?” Cole asked as he placed the tray on one of the unoccupied stovetops.

“Nothing.” You shook the lovesick expression off your face. “Taste this for me.”

You lifted a wooden spoon up to your boyfriend's mouth. He complied immediately, always eager to sample your cooking.

“Thoughts?” you asked.

“Amazing as always,” he responded with a nod.

“You flatter me,” you shook your head, tossing the spoon in the sink before combining the pasta and sauce into one pan.

“Flattery or honesty?” Cole asked, leaning against the counter as he watched you work.

“I suppose I can always rely on you to be honest with me,” you admitted.

“Damn straight.”

You laughed, announcing food was done. Cole fetched the two of you plates and held one out for you. You accepted, and per his insistence, got first dibs at the food you had cooked.

Soon, the two of you were sat at the island, eating your dinner side by side. Cole praised your food, and you laughed, insisting he only likes it so much because he can’t cook to save his life.

After you two had finished, Cole wouldn’t even let you touch your plate, claiming since you cooked he’d do all the dishes. You protested at first, but after he quite literally carried you out of the kitchen and into the living room you gave up.

Instead, while he did the dishes, you were looking for a movie to put on for the two of you. But you didn’t stop there. It was almost like a girlfriend ritual to make your boyfriend do skincare with you, and while you weren’t overly into skin care, you did have a few face masks.

Cole stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes landed on what was in your hands. Pore strips. You’d put them on him before, and though he denied it, his eyes started to water when you peeled it off him.

“No.” He crossed his arms.

“Please!” you begged. “It’s good for you!”

“Lies, that’s just what they want you to think so you keep buying them.”

You didn’t back down, and eventually, you dragged him over to the couch and placed a pore strip over the bridge of his nose.

“Why do I let you do this to me?” he whined.

“Because you love you,” you said, patting his chest.

“Sad but true,” he sighed dramatically.

You gasped in fake offense before he tackled you back onto the couch, tickling your sides briefly. To compensate him for the pore strips, you picked one of your mutually favorite movies to put on.

However, when the thirty minutes for your strips were up, you had to chase Cole down around your house. Eventually, you caught up, reassuring him you’ll be gentle this time.

He eyed you skeptically, but stayed still anyway. You began to remove the strip from his nose, but almost every time you moved it, he’d wince.

“You’re so dramatic!” You laughed.

“I’m not! This shit hurts!” Cole leaned his head back, blinking furiously.

Slowly, you managed to get the strip off his face, but you had to stop him from scratching at the exposed place. To show him it wasn’t that bad, you removed your strip in one fluid motion. It hurt a little, you had to admit, and it made your eyes water slightly, but you powered through it.

“What happens when a villain slaps a pore strip on you, then what?” You asked as you two made your way back down stairs.

“Then I die a hero’s death.”

The rest of the night you two had spent watching your favorite movies with a bowl of popcorn between the two of you. At one point, you had put on one of your favorite sad movies, and when the main character died, Cole gasped and threw a piece of popcorn at the TV.

After the movies, you found one of your old Just Dance discs. It didn’t take a lot of concing to get Cole to do it with you. Somehow, he beat you every round to the point where you took to tripping him in order to win.

After another loss, you suggest a switch in games that led you to Mario Kart. Unlike Just Dance, he didn’t beat you once at Mario Kart. Not even when he covered your eyes with one of his hands.

Eventually, well into the late hours of the night, you two dragged yourself up to your room where Cole put on a pair of pajamas he kept at your house, and crashed into bed.

Soft morning rays bled through your half closed curtains as you buried your face further into the warmth of your boyfriend next to you. Cole’s soft breaths were ruffling the hairs on the top of your head, and his arms were wrapped around you as if he was afraid you’d disappear during the night.

Stretching as well as you could, you scratched at his scalp lightly, not wanting to wake him. A triumphant grin spread across your face. You had just gotten away with your boyfriend sleeping over at your house!

A cleared throat had your eyes shooting open. Your gaze landed on both your parents standing in your open doorway. Your father’s brows were raised, arms crossed as he tapped his foot while your mother was doing her best to conceal a smile.

“You’re back early,” you forced out a laugh, attempting to slide the covers higher to cover Cole’s body.

“And you’re grounded–three days,” your father deadpanned. Letting out a tired sigh he continued, “Breakfast is downstairs when you’re both ready.”

Your mom gave you a wink before following your father downstairs. You could tell neither of them were genuinely upset.

Well, you almost got away with it.

[sugoi-writes]

Alastor x Reader - First Time, First Deal

A/N: Let me preface this with: yes, I am aware that Alastor is ace (and likely aroace). This is simply a work of fiction and nothing more! I tried keeping things pretty tame for the most part, but there's an opportunity for spice later down the road, should anyone enjoy this.

The reader uses she/her pronouns. The reader is a sinner whose body is essentially a ghost that changes/become corporal at times. Reader is EXTREMELY touch starved. (And let's be honest, aren't we all?) This part is fluffy and sickeningly sweet, with room for angst and smut down the road... so please enjoy my newfound brainrot~

Your time spent with the Hazbin Hotel had been progressing more positively than you hoped. Being a demon with a semi corporal body came with ups and downs... namely, that you had a hard time controlling your body's functions.

During bouts of anger or sadness, your body would change. You'd usually becoming hard, jagged, and brutal, or, one that you feared most: you became completely invisible. The only person who seemed to understand appeared to be Alastor, the infamous Radio Demon. Despite being a reserved, somewhat distant person... he seemed to either understand or take pity on your situation.

You felt confident in his companionship, moreso as your sleepless nights crept upon you. You had all but sobbed in his private quarters, lamenting how touch starved you were. How the only time you've felt the touch of another being was during fits of rage or in conflict. When defending the hotel, you typically get pretty banged up and bruised. The sensations you did experience were never good... and you longed for something that felt right. Something that felt REAL and gentle.

Alastor seemed more than sympathetic, and would listen and even humor you. When your world was crumbling in, he always managed to make you smile and laugh... And the bond between the two of you festered, before erupting to an untamable flame.... at least, you knew it did for you.

When you were close to him, you found your body's hues changing... bright, soft pinks would flood your visage, especially in your face. Angel Dust would tease you especially hard, causing flecks of green and red to appear: annoyance, anger.... No matter your emotions and despite your best attempts, they were always on your sleeve.

One night in particular, you were having a very difficult time. You had thought back to your life in the human realm, to living on Earth... You had shared many things with others. Touch, kisses, and... more intimate gestures. You could imagine the sensations, but never experience them on your own. No, you would need someone that you TRULY trusted to help you... someone whose touch would be as rare as your predicament. Someone who wouldn't taint that touch with ulterior motives. Someone who wouldn't take advantage of your vulnerable state the second your walls caved in.

You had thought to ask Angel initially, but didn't want it to appear that you were using a sex worker only for his body... you had considered other sinners you met along the way, many of which who had left the hotel.

But there was one constant that crossed your mind: Alastor.

And with that, against your better judgment, you rapped quietly against his oak door. You were sheepish, hoping that he would be asleep, or too busy to answer. Hues of purple swirled through your body, as you felt your shape ebb and flow... the parts that felt real, the ones you could sense... they were soft, and just as pliable as your mind.

But you had no time to linger as the door to the Radio Demon's chambers creaked open. You fumbled with your appearance as Alastor's eyes and grin fell upon you, a singular brow raised.

"My Dear, it's quite late in the evening... are you troubled? Struggling to sleep again?" Alastor opened the door entirely, allowing you to enter. You nod, before nervously walking past the threshold. No going back now, you thought.

"I-- I know, Alastor. I hate bugging you so late at night, but-- you're the only person who can help me with my-- issue." Hues of hot pink swirled within you as Alastor gingerly closed his door, his head cocking to the side.

" Would you like to have tea with me, then? Perhaps something warm could help ease your--"

"Warmer than that," you practically yelped, your hands flying to mouth to cover it. You sigh, as your colors fluctuated again, your body acting as a kaleidoscope for Alastor to observe.

"I... i only ask of you because, well-- I feel like you would handle this... respectfully. Delicately." Alastor continues to grow more interested, the light emitting from you dancing about his chambers.

"Well, trying not to assume what you may need me for, I am flattered that you considered me for the task. I can assure you, a gentleman will always take the qualms of the fairer means seriously... Discreetly, if need arises."

Alastor's grin grows, a familiar glow reaching his wide eyes," Now then... what dea--.... arrangement... have you come to propose?"

You turn to face Alastor, your face warm as you spew your feelings at him, deep from your core. Your colors flash, swirling and colliding with each other haphazardly as you speak. At first, Alastor is intrigued, then appalled, and the more that you spill... the more his mind shifts. He can clearly see you weren't here for some petty favor, or a sinner's gambit... You were here for something more earnest than that. He should have known better than that, regarding you... You, the sinner who didn't deserve to be trapped here in Hell.

"I want-- I just want my first time in Hell to be with someone I can trust. In fact, it's only possible IF I can trust that person," you quickly added, advancing a few paces towards him.

For the first time since you've entered, you're silent. You don't make a sound as Alastor struggles to form a response. His eyes seem a little hazy, lost... You've stupefied him into speechlessness.

You sigh, your colors becoming more uniform, softer... you begin to shed the night gown that you managed to keep on this entire time (With your embarrassing predicament? It was RATHER impressive).

As it fell to the floor, Alastor's bewildered eyes were able to take in your full form... how the colors hugged and accentuated your form... how your hair bellowed behind you... how soft your face had become. For a moment, he swore he wasn't standing before his friend, but an angel from on High.

"Please... I know--- i know this is a lot to ask of you. But I can't spend an eternity of torment like this-- not when I have the option of seeing if it's possible. I NEED to know if its possible to be with someone like this."

Your attempts in this endeavor have been fruitless in the past, yet somehow: you were hopeful that this would be different. You were hopeful that Alastor would be different.

Alastor's smile softened, as he adjusted himself. She wasn't coming to him as a desperate harlot, nor some heated lover, he thought... she sought him without any sort of carnal threat. This sinner came to him as a friend.

This emotion made his core swell and seize simultaneously, his emotions conflicted. He had little to no desires of the flesh anymore, nor did he ever desire you past a platonic companionship... but here he was: feeling something. Something that he hadnt felt in such a long time.

He cleared his throat, before loosening his tie. You swallowed shallowly as it was taken off and tossed to the floor. Alastor approached your slowly, his mask still plastered to his face, though shakily.

"Let's make a deal, then...," Alastor speaks softly, the normal filter on his voice all but silenced. He reached out a hand, cautiously approaching your cheek.

"I will agree to see this event to a proper conclusion... whatever you'd like me to do, or try... I will earnestly do so until you're satisfied. In exchange..."

You felt your throat swell shut, as if you were being strangled. You could hardly see straight as Alastor came so close to you. You gasped when Alastor's hand finally made contact with the swell of your cheek, a thumb running over it tenderly. You sighed into the feeling, your face flushing a deep pink as you leaned into it. Yes, yes... this was EXACTLY what you needed!

"In exchange," he repeated," You will never let anyone else touch you like this: ever."

Your eyes shoot open, startled by the forwardness of the deal. You could hardly speak as you felt another hand come to rest on your hip, squeezing earnestly.

Alastor's smile seemed to shine more vividly due to the light you emmited, but it was... soft. It appeared genuine. A smile that was new to you. If Alastor had ulterior motives, you could not sense them at all...

You stammered over your words, perplexed," I-- I hadn't know that you-- that you had--"

Alastor chuckles, pulling you closer," Dear, call me a product of my time... but I don't believe in boughts of one-night passions. I don't believe in swingers or flings... if my mother taught me anything, she taught me that courting takes time. That it should be shared between two people, and two people alone."

You felt his hand reach for yours, before bringing it to his lips. Your eyelids fluttered as he began kissing your knuckles, one by one.

"You are the one I've been wanting to court; the only one that I plan to. And... it seems like it has been successful, thus far." A slight stretch of the truth, but one that Alastor knew you wouldn't be able to see through.

You were still reeling at your revelation as you were gently pushed backwards, landing on the edge of Alastor's bed. Your breathing picked up as Alastor knelt before you between your legs, his eyes level with yours.

"So... will you allow me to continue?"

You practically sighed out your answer, your head feeling hazy as your body practically sung for him to start," O-Of course.... please, make me yours, Alastor."

[zyonsay]

Parisienne im Mund SKI AGGU

Summary: Shooting the Balla Balla MV!

Reader: Genderneutral

Warnings: Smoking

Now playing: 'Balla Balla' by Ski Aggu

AN: Heya everyone! Finally some Ski Aggu content! I feel like there's such a lack of fics about him, which probably is since he's a german artist who doesnt cater to anyone besides german speakers- At least thats how i imagine it?? Anyways! This was really hard to write cuz in my mind lil bro does NOT speak english, which makes it sooo difficult for me to make him speak english. Idk, maybe im just yapping. Alsooo!! I mostly write male readers but i thought since theres barely any ski aggu fics i‘d give a lil treat to fem aligned people too :)

 Die, die ich date, hat uns Karten für die Oper gekauft Doch ich kann heut nicht, weil ich mich mit meinen Govas besauf' Jemand legt mir eine Peitsche, doch die macht mir nichts aus, Weil ich hab' viele tolle Ranzen wie Scout

A row of dressed up people stood around, waiting for their cue. You were currently doing a favor for your friend from Hamburg, Luca. Recently he made more time for his main passion, filming music videos and social media content. Long story short, his buddy needed a bunch of people for a music video and since you owe him a favor, you gladly came along.

Ja, ich bin ein heißer Atze, ich tanz' bauchfrei im Club Hol' meinen Perso raus, doch nicht, weil ich mich ausweisen muss

The camera panned around the entrance of the club and music filled the room. Just beforehand you were personally introduced to the man in whose music video you’d appear.

“Hey, das ist Y/N. Basically meine rechte Hand.” Luca placed his arm around your shoulders, pulling you slightly into him while smiling widely. “Oh hey, danke fürs kommen!”, you blinked for a second, your german was sadly quite rusty. “Oh umm, sorry but my german is absolute shit.”, you pursed your lips shyly. The young guy in front of you smiled. “No problem! I’m Aggu by the way.” He held his hand out to dap you up. You interlinked your own hand with his. “Nice to meet you, love your music.” A genuine smile spread across your lips, which he immediately mirrored. He was known to wear a ski mask, but right now you were glad to be able to look into his blueish grey eyes. Something was drawing you to him, maybe his sharp features, his messy blond hair or the crooked but sweet smile. “Thanks! I’ve heard so much about you from Luca.” You tilted your head, nudging your friend who was still next to you. “Only good things, right?”

The smoke machines were going ham and the air inside the rented club was getting way too hot. Someone had brought along a bubble gun, so colorful glycerin blobs now bobbed through the air and occasionally landed on a person’s head. “Ok, nächster Take in 3, 2, 1!” Luca began filming and just how the instructions earlier had said, everybody started jumping around and dancing, mimicking the nightlife at a club. Music boomed trough a speaker, helping Aggu keep the pace and time his gestures correctly. The lights flashed, you purposely spilled your drink while dancing, the messier it looked, the better. It all began to feel more and more like a fever dream. Aggu had lit a cigarette and was wildly gesturing at the camera while singing to the lyrics, the melody of which flowed through the crowd.

Ich rapp' darüber, was in meinem Leben passiert, Treff' 'ne Granate im Backi, die meine Nägel lackiert, woah, mh Sie sagt mir: „Komm, wir gehen von hier“ Weil der Backstage Arsch ist wie ich später bei ihr.

Next up was a scene at the backstage, Luca had insisted stubbornly that you should play in that scene. Two seats were smushed into a corner and a few things were thrown around to make it look messy. You propped yourself in one of those seats, facing Aggu. He was rapping about something something nail polish, but all you knew is that you had to whisper in his ear for a take. Carefully, you leant closer to him, your back was turned against the camera. His scent was intoxicating, a light hint of smoke lingered on him. Feeling a bit cheeky, you laid your hand on the front of his shoulder, practically resting yourself against him. A slight flush spread across your cheeks at the proximity, you were thankful that the camera wasn’t filming your face.

Aggu leant over the bar and let out an exhausted huff. “Fertig!”, Luca grinned from one ear to another. The takes you had now were pretty damn good and even though it was fun, everybody was happy to finish the video shooting. “You ok?” You spun around on one of the barstools. “Hm?”, he hummed while tiredly lifting his head from where he was resting it, buried in his arms. “Yeah, just tired. But I’m happy with how it turned out.” You nodded lightly, stopping your endless spinning. “C’mon, I’ll sponsor you a Cig.” Even under the ski goggles you could see his eyes light up.

You placed a cigarette between your lips and then held out your pack of Parisiennes to him. The two of you were sat on the step of some stairs at the back entrance of the club, your legs touching. “You got fire?”, a slightly embarrassed look flashed over your face. Somehow you always forgot to bring your lighter – or you lose it by the time you need it. “Mhm.” Aggu hummed. He had taken the ski goggles off and once again you found yourself glancing at his eyes. He expected you to take the lighter into your own hands, but you just held your cigarette in place and leaned in towards him. A few strands of hair loosened and fell into your face. He couldn’t help his breath hitching at the closeness, he could smell your cologne. It smelled like green tea mixed with a minty undertone, or to put it differently, a breath of fresh air. It took Aggu a second to register your movement, but he then reached his lighter forward, holding the flame to the cigarette between your lips. The orange light illuminated your face and made it glow; he was mesmerized. Your eyes fluttered open and you caught him looking at you, a slight smile spread across your lips.

Ich bin balla-balla Komplett gaga Parisienne im Mund, ich bin ein toller Macker

With a sweet, slightly stupid grin he lit his own cigarette. A light chuckle escaped you, he seemed to fancy you as much as you fancied him. He took a long drag of his cigarette before leaning against your shoulder, the nicotine rush fuzzing up his mind.

Ich bin balla-balla Komplett gaga Ihr Swag 2010, sie trägt einen Rock mit Brakka

[jam3sacaster]

“I have waited for the day.”

(Rivals) Rupert Campbell-Black x Reader

Suggestion by sweet @megangovier 🫶🏽 Distraught from your very recent breakup, you seek solace in the only person you can trust…

18+ FANFIC / A gorgeous mixture of soft & vague smut. Short Work. Reader character aged 21. Hope you enjoy! 🩷

Rapping violently against the door of Penscombe Court, mascara flowing down your cheeks like inky waterfalls, you sniffle and fiddle with the tips of your fingers anxiously. It was a beautiful Spring day, the mellow sunlight cast a golden glow across Penscombe Court and the magnificent weeping willow tree in the driveway swayed fantastically in the gentle breeze. However, it was hard to appreciate the springtime beauty through glassy eyes. Barking contentedly as he sprints towards you, Blue, Rupert’s lurcher, circled around your feet and wagged his tail. It had been ever such a long time since you have seen him, but you were overjoyed that he recognised you. “Hello, my darling. Oh, how I’ve missed you. Where on Earth is your Dad?” You sniffled, bending down to stroke his back softly.

The front door slowly creaked open to reveal the man you had so desperately missed, wearing only a pair of beige tweed trousers and a vile brown leather belt, reading a copy of Tess of the d’Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy. “Dear God, what on Earth’s the matter, angel?” Rupert questioned you upon seeing the distraught expression painted across your face. “Can I come in?” You ask, pushing your way past him and into the sitting room before he could respond.

“You’re in luck.” Rupert spoke as he rifled through his drinks cabinet, and promptly brandished a large bottle of Gordon’s. Pouring you a disgustingly strong gin & tonic, Rupert collapsed onto the space beside you, resting his book down gently on the coffee table and lighting you both a cigarette. You accept it graciously and take a long drag, dazzling emerald eyes piercing through the thick cloud of smoke. “Fucking prick. I don’t know how I put up with him for so long. After everything I dealt with, he finishes me?” You scoff and watch as Blue carefully pads into the room, curling over your feet. “I have waited for the day. If anything, I’m glad that rotter finished with you, you were much too marvellous for him. At least he will leave you alone.” Rupert tuts, biting his bottom lip exasperatedly.

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” You paused for a moment, “It’s working, carry on.” Your words were accompanied with a congested giggle. That sound is heavenly, Rupert thought to himself as his pique expression softened. “I really don’t think I can bare to be alone tonight. Do you mind if I crash here? Just for one night.” You muttered under your breath as you picked at a small hole in your tights, gaping it and creating a ladder that tore from your thigh to your kneecap. “Of course you can, if you allow me to rip your tights someplace else.” Rupert teased, slugging back his gin & tonic and promptly pouring you both another.

His suggestive comment made your knees tremble with a feeling unfamiliar to you — why was Rupert making you feel so weakened? “Do you mind if Blue stays with me in the guest room?” You question, leaning down to give the darling lurcher a pat. “You needn’t. If you’re feeling particularly lonely after your breakup, you should stay in my room. I’ll keep you company.” His eyes narrowly enticingly as he spoke. The awful, lustful burning in your loins made you feel terribly reprehensible. You had been single for, you pause to check your watch, two hours — and already had a overpowering desire to remove that brown leather belt of his.

Taking a swig of what was your third gin & tonic, you recognised that spectacular dizzying feeling, your mind thick with gin and terrible ideas. By now, the sunset was flourishing in majestic washes of rose pink, striking amethyst and breathtaking paprika-orange. “Care to take this outside?” Rupert asked, lifting the bottle of gin from the table and sliding open the glass doors. With a small nod of your head, you follow him and take a seat at the bench just outside the door.

As to be expected, Blue bounded into the garden after you both, rolling on his back across the dew-coated grass. A small, joyful giggle left your lips, which coaxed Rupert to flare up at you again, rubbing his tongue over his lips. “I might join you there, Blue.” You mumble, now laying on your back as the silver dog collapsed onto your chest. My God, she’s beautiful, Rupert thought to himself. “Your ladder is getting worse.” He chuckled, leaning down beside you and placing his finger through the ladder, pulling at it slightly. “Inside, Blue.” Rupert points towards the sitting room in a firm manner, and Blue immediately complied.

His tender caress of your leg made your lip wobble in desire, and he basked in every moment of it. “Rupert…” You whispered, gazing up at him with innocent, glittering eyes. “Angel. I need you.” Rupert mumbled softly in response, but your lips were crashing together lustfully before the final word could leave his mouth. “I must have you.” You fretted, and raised yourself onto your elbows, fiddling with his belt and throwing it to the ground. “Are you terribly sure?” The man spoke eloquently, but you hiked your dress to your belly and nodded your head. Gripping your tights on either side of your thighs, he tore them from you with a resounding rippp, exhorted by the sound of your maniacal giggles. “Angel. Whilst it’s turning me on awfully to tear these tights from you, I must tell you something.” He faltered, and lay back down beside you. “What? It’s not something bad, is it?” You whisper carefully into the air.

“No, no, not at all.” Rupert reaffirmed. “But it’s something you must know. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so strongly about someone before. You interrupt my every thought.” And just like that, everything was in slow motion. It was like every birthday and Christmas combined into one lovesick jumble. “I’m terrified to say that I think I love you.” You replied, and every trouble and doubt melted away.

[samhaft]

Hey Sam, hope you and everybody are doing alright up there.

I was wondering how you go about writing lyrics? Re-listened to the Zero One album recently and it blew me away just as much as it did the first time. You have such an ear candy manner of flow and I just can’t quite wrap my head around how you even start to write that sort of thing out. Do you start with words or a rhythm first or is it something that takes both a bit at a time?

Thanks, and stay safe!

Thanks for your kind question!

For my flow when it comes to rapped lyrics - where the emphasis sits, where the rhymes are placed etc, I like to think of it like writing a drum part! Without a melody I’m sonically essentially a percussion layer, so thats always been my approach - if you were to play my stressed/unstressed syllables on a bongo drum, ideally it would sound pretty good!

As far as my process, I almost NEVER write lyrics without music existing to write them over, because - as a percussion part - I need the music to inform what sounds groovy. On the other hand I rarely write vocal rhythms without the words, because the words help inform where the emphasis can sit / rhymes will sound best. One thing I also use a LOT is sound repetition - where beyond the rhymes, I’ll use a lot of vowel and consonant sounds that are similar enough to feel “rhymey” without locking into a full rhyme - this is something you hear a lot of in hip hop, but is less commonplace in sung pop music.

I’ll break down an example from the title track zero_one. Rhymed sounds are bolded and color coded, and one interesting move you’ll notice is inserting a syllable into our two syllable ‘level’ rhyme on ‘several’ for a little bit of ear candy, but I want to focus on the italics:

Lost the plot and so I play it again

Needing a friend, needing an end, a creed to defend

proceed another level to battle a devil

combatting several enemies with the

anatomy of a rebel

“Proceed” takes our ‘eed’ and adds an ‘uh’ sound in front of it - now you’d never say ‘proceed’ and ‘enemies’ rhyme - they don’t! BUT the last two vowel sounds are ‘uh-ee’ in both words - and I add a THIRD sound atop that stack with “enemies” which is the ‘en’ sound - so later in that line when I hit “anatomy” it sounds really pleasing to the ear, because beyond just closing our ‘at’ rhyme, it starts with ‘en’ and ends with ‘uh-ee’. And in fact that ‘uh’ sound is also how I pronounce “the” “to” “again” “a” “defend” “several” “of” etc etc etc - none of which are rhymes! But instead repeated percussive use of that one vowel sound over and over throughout. You’ll notice my pronunciation is completely internally inconsistent based on what sounds I want to emphasize at the moment! The “the” at the beginning is ‘thuh’ but the one after “enemies” is ‘thee’ to better match the sounds I’m emphasizing!

Ok I’m looking at this wall of text and feel like I must be rambling like a crazy person so I’m gonna stop lmao

Most of this is an intuitive process for me, I’m not writing up diagrams like that as I write lyrics, but I’m just trying to visualize for you what’s happening inside my brain as I write. Hope that makes sense?

If you’d like to watch me actually write stuff, the linktree in my pinned post features a class I sell that lets you watch me write two songs in real time!

[lavendergardenwrites]

Could you do a fluff Jamie Tartt imagine where the reader takes care of a drunk Jamie who forgets that they've been dating for months and thinks they're back in their crush phase after they and the boys went out celebrating a win?

Drunk in the Back of the Car (j.t. x fem!reader)

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 654

warnings: language, alcohol

a/n: here you go love! i hope you like it and requests continue to be open!! (also first time writing for jamie so pls be kind lol)

The early 2000’s pop music blasting through the speakers was about to make your brain explode. The boys were celebrating a great victory in their match earlier that day and had all decided to crash this club that Colin had found. The flashing lights and sticky floors were slightly off-putting but the boys just wanted to celebrate and Jamie had insisted you came along too. Keeley and Roy were somewhere, probably at a table stuffed in a corner as Roy hated anyone spotting him. Isaac immediately bought a round of drinks upon entry and thus started the flow of alcohol. You were just glad that you and Jamie had agreed that you would drive home so he could properly celebrate. 

Speaking of your boyfriend, he was nowhere to be seen. A group of you had been gathered in front of the bar, chatting and drinking and dancing- though somewhat badly- and then as the night aged on and people found different things that piqued their interests, the group dispersed into smaller groups across the club. You were clumped together with Colin and Sam, chatting about the opposing team from the earlier match, while Colin interspersed some lyrics from the rap songs that were playing overhead. While laughing at Colin doing this weird dance while rapping, you felt a tap on your shoulder. 

“Your boyfriend is smashed,” Roy commented as he held Jamie under his arms. He was clearly having a hard time standing on his own and it seemed like Roy had dragged him from wherever they were previously stationed. 

“I’m fine grandad,” Jamie retorted, though slurred and he clearly had to put a lot of thought into the short sentence. 

“I’ll take him,” you smiled at Roy, silently thanking him for making sure Jamie got back to you. He nodded and passed Jamie over to you before he walked off, probably going back to find Keeley again. You grabbed one of Jamie’s arms and threw it over your shoulders, leaning his weight into you. “Looks like I’d better get this one home. Enjoy the rest of your night lads”. Sam and Colin say their goodbyes before going to find the other boys. 

“Woah, you better be careful there. I’ve got a girlfriend and I don’t think she’d like you touching me like this,” Jamie tries to stand up straighter to get away from you, but almost immediately tips back over. 

“I am your girlfriend,” you laugh. 

“No way,” Jamie says quietly, in an ‘I can’t believe it’ type of way. 

“Come on Jams, let’s get you home”. 

Despite the copious amounts of effort it took to get Jamie through your front door- which included him almost throwing up in the back seat of your car- you finally got him in bed in a semi-comfortable position. Once you were sure he wasn’t going to throw up in the bed, at least long enough for you to get ready for bed, you headed to the bathroom to take your makeup off and change out of your clubbing outfit. 

“Y/N?” You heard Jamie call from the bed. 

“Yes love?” you question, sticking your head out of the bathroom doorway. 

“How’d you get into my house?” 

“I have a key Jams,” you laugh. 

“Did I give you that?” He tilts his head. 

“How sloshed did you get Jamie?” You move closer to him, sitting down next to him on the bed. 

“Oh my god I’ve got Y/N in my bed,” he whispers more to himself. 

“I’ve been sharing a bed with you for the past two months, love,” you remind him, moving his hair away from his sticky forehead. 

“Holy shit, no way,” he mutters before passing out again. You laugh at his antics and go back to the bathroom, finishing your nighttime routine before grabbing some water and aspirin for the morning. You were so going to make fun of him tomorrow for this.

[strangeunfortunatebeast]

My Unity blab😘😘😘 (Jesus fuck do I have opinions)

Unity was good. I feel like the delivery was ok, maybe not an album that you would wait 2 and 1/2 years for but can you blame the man, he had shit going on.

The pacing was excellent, the songs flowed together well and it told a cohesive story. However, I’ve never been a good fan of artist releasing the heavy hitters of the album before it’s official release. In my opinion Why Not???didn’t have to be a single. I understand it was supposed to be his Eurovision song so releasing it close to the anniversary of Europapa was special. But if your album opens up with a song everyone’s already heard before then it just kinda falls flat. Especially after such a crushing album like Friesland.

I also think Luchtballon should have gone first or be left as a single. Just to make the flow between the two albums better. Like a cut off point between talking about his personal life to the corruption of the music industry and how we need unite to fix it. I understand what he was going for, making it a Eurovision sandwich. But having the first two songs of the album being already released made the intro a tad boring.

The features were probably some of my favorites. 1, Discozwemmen, and We’ll Meet Again made me tear up and instantly became some of my favorite in his discography. Literally perfect, only problem is that they could have been longer just so I had more to listen to.

But then United By Music… I’ve seen a lot of people calling it tasteless and rude. I can understand that. I think that bringing up the most recent election in the US and the genocide in Ukraine are some pretty big sore spots for people. And making a song where you openly make jokes about it could hurt people. But also comedy is the best medicine. Fear is power. Take way the fear of these people and they have no power. Yeah I’ve watch the movie IT, I’m pretty cool I guess.

I think that they also brought up some issues with in their own community. Tommy saying “I’m not a good singer that’s the reason why I rap, I’m not a good rapper that’s the reason why I sing” “I know that I’m white but I wish that I was black” brings up some issues that I’ve seen in the European hip hop/edm community where a lot of culture is stolen from people of color. That’s one of the reasons I’ve never been a big fan of Tommy. But he’s clearly making fun of himself and other people who do that stuff as well. Joost did a similar thing with the line “I like to keep it straight but I also like it gay.” Which could be alluding to the stage gay personas a lot of people put on, himself included. Where he’ll kiss and grind on guys on stage but doesn’t consider himself part of the LGBTQ+ community. I think that it’s good that he realizes these flaws about himself and is willing to put words to it. Not only calling out the hypocrisy’s in the EBU but also with in himself and his community. I think that these are real issues, and they should be fixed, but the first step of fixing a problem is realizing it’s there and putting a name to it.

Another thing that I picked up in the album, is a possible falling out with SkiAggu. I haven’t heard too much about it, but the flow from Friesenjung to Kusnt und Musik to Filthy dog seems like an interesting line up. He blew up on Friesenjung, talked about how he wasn’t SkiAggu with glasses on Kunst und Musik, and then talked about getting into a fight with a German guy on filthy dog. I could be reading into it too much, but if that did happen, then that progression was super cool. Props to him if so.

I think the over all story he was trying to convey is his issue with the party/rave/internet culture. And he’s right it’s fallen off over the years. People used to be so much more caring in converts and raves, and now everyone seems so isolated. I also love bringing back the OG 90s sound he’s been using since Friesland. I hope he sticks to it. Even though this album might have its flaws I can only imagine what his music would sound like in the future if he continues with the 90s/2000s nostalgia vibe.

In conclusion, solid album. Did a good job. Last man standing made me ugly cry. 👍👍👍👍

Also all of the beats went to fucking hard. Tantu put his whole pussy in it and I’ve never been so proud of my little girlfriend.

[p1nk1yypiee]

see you again Hyunjun player 120

moon!hyun-ju player 120 x sun!reader player 389 moonxsun friends to lovers vilalargo reader fluff a bit of smut at the end NOT PROOF READ IM SORRY IF I SAY HE INSTEAD OF SHE BY ACCIDENT

squid game au

you woke up in a new place seeing people die left to right was sickening but there was one thing making this hellhole a bit better her beauty was unmatched just seeing her made you feel like you were on cloud 9 and how she spoke to you make you weak in the knees and you know one of these days you have to confess but you feel like she doesn’t like you back and maybe just sees you as a friend only because your both different to other people and you both have trouble in public with people due to your skin condition and her transition it’s the 3th game mingle and just seeing all of the blood makes you sick “ are you ok Y/N” hyun ju asks with worry in her voice and grabs your hand “ yes i’m fine it’s just the blood these games there sick “ you say as you squeeze her hand “ it’s ok we’ll get through this “ she says as the floor stops and you to hear a voice “ 3 players “ hyun ju holds your hand tighter and grabs young mi’s hand running into a pink room locking the door behind her she lets out a sigh of relief you hear gun shots go off you put your hands over your ears to try to block the noise out hyun ju sees your trembling body and she walks up to you and hugs you close to her chest you take in her smell she still kinda smelt like a peach mango body wash and also sweat and a bit of blood when she let go it was the last round and we had to leave the room young mi walks infront of us as we all get the the floor we hear the sickly sweet voices of children singing then the floor stops and we hear the voice “ one player” your heart dropped but you all run to room that were next to each other but someone was in the one you went to so you started to run around to get a room you let the rush flow through your body you found one just in time when the clock hit 1 you push into a room it locks behind you you hear gun shots going off you held your ear trying to calm yourself down then you hear the door unlock and you walk out to only see hyun ju you look around for young mi but you see she’s no where in sight then you start to tear up know she died when she was so young and and full of joy you ran to hyun ju trapping her in your arms she was stunned for a moment then she hugged you sobbing you let go grabbing her hand back to the sleep area her tears still streaming down her cheeks you see your team in the corner where you all sleep you both walk other there you see 007 and he’s mother searching for you both when she spots you she speed walk towards you both then she has a confused look on her face “ where’s young mi?” she says looking around hyun ju puts her head down and you look at the older woman and you tear up “ we’re so sorry she tried to save her but it was to late “ you say choking on your words you see the old woman’s face fall as she tears up to as she walks up to you to she opens her arms to inbrase you both you and hyun ju accept the hug by rapping your arms around her 007 runs up to us and joins in the hug

time skip because my hands are starting to hurt

it’s 3 minutes till lights out and you see hyun ju in her bed look off into space you walk up to her you walk up the stairs to her bed “ you ok “ you say as you put your hand on hers she looks at you “ yea im ok “ she says lowly as she looks away from your gaze and looks down at her thighs there’s a silence but like a comfort silence as soon as the lights go out you look at her and brush back a bit of her bangs behind her ear “ i’ll leave you alone if you need me just come get me “ you say as you were about to go back down the stairs “ wait “ she called out you turn around to look at her “ stay..please “ she says almost begging “ of course “ you say as you walk up to her and sit on her bed you held her hand for comfort “ unnie “ you called out to her she looks up at you “ yes?” she says “ can i tell you something “ you say as you feel heat rise in your cheeks “ yes of course what’s up “ she says rubbing circles on your different color hand “ i’ve wanted to tell you this for a while ever since we started this game actually i know you probably see me as only a friend i but see you as more you see me for me not how my skin looks or how my body looks you see me for me and ive loved you ever since i saw you and i know ive only known you for a few days but you make me feel like i can be my self around you and i-“ you were interrupted by her smashing her lips on yours pulling you into a passionate kiss after a bit then you both pull away a string of you of your salivas mixed together keeping you both together then she kissed you again but this time more aggressive and needy then you feel her coldish warm fingers make there way up your shirt then to your bra and squeezing the flesh on your chest you moan a bit into the kiss then she pulls away and takes off your shirt heavy breathing then she un clips your bra not caring who still up all she cares about is your pleasure as she takes off your bra seeing your bare breast she’s in awe “ your more beautiful then i imagined i love your skin it just make you more attractive to me “ she says as she takes one into her mouth sucking and nipping at the hard bud as she takes your other in her hand needing it as you moan out a bit making sure your not to loud then you hear someone clean there throat and you see 007 and you both look at him embarrassed “ i thought something was happening other here sorry i interrupted ill go “ he said blushing like crazy then he walks back to he’s bed “ so much for being quiet “ you say with a dry laugh “ yea but let’s get some sleep we’ll finish tomorrow and make sure everyone is sleeping “ she’s says with a smile “ yea we should “ you say as you grab your shirt and put it back on then you lay down her arm draped over your body under the sheets “ does this mean we’re together “ you say look at the other beds “ yes we are my love “ she says as she kisses your cheek” good night hyun ju “ you say with a smile “ good night my dear “ she says you close your eyes letting sleep take over dreaming about how it will be when you and hyun ju get out of that shit show.

CUTE RIGHT YEA BUT SMUT COMING CHAT I PROMISE BYE BYEE

[lucifersresources]

stupid shit said in discord servers part four meme. ft special guests from my dnd party!

edit/alter/change pronouns etc as you see fit!  

i never wanna think a cop is funny.

flirty rat man was my nickname in college.

the moon sounds like a fun place to be.

thinking a cop is funny is a gateway drug to being a republican.

today i learned she would punch a seagull.

booty call via shared thoughts.

it's fallen angel math.

i want em gorgeous, awful and bloody.

the fuck did i just read.

i just didn't know what knotting was. i miss those times. i miss five minutes ago.

you're not an edgelord, you're just pathetic.

there will be no butt sniffing in my god fearing house!

wanna see how gay my kindle looks?

i saw a book review titled "unlikely travel companions fight their inner demons" and i just think that's all of us

come to america and we can lay down together with no spoons

sitting in vc with the two of you is probably a bit like couples therapy

i'm not a planner i'm a go with the flow-er

penguins are all non binary, confirmed

the world is a gay penguin waiting to fly

this is a win for the lgbtqa+ community, penguins are gay

new pride mascot just dropped: penguins

it'll be me shoving you in the PIT OF HELL

i'd push my friendguin off an iceberg for money ngl

penguins can accidentally end up in gay relationships

penguins are friends not food

they made weed legal in my state so now all the cop dogs are confused

they always stand there dick to dick

the giraffe wanted a pillow

have you smelt the grass?

like, sure, i am picking fights, but in an affectionate way

well now i'm contractually obligated to fight you

it's like a suburban mom's wet dream

NO ONE EVER TRUSTS WHAT I SAY. THATS LIKE GIVING ME THE NUCLEAR CODES

sure, i'm better than donald trump, BUT LIKE THAT ISNT SAYING MUCH

doe, a deer, a female deer. Die, a long long way to hell -

i know you're a bot but get a grip

the jerking off motion at you is flirting

i hate it when my upper body grippers don't grip.

have you tried the lower grippers?

having to explain my joke makes me want to murder you

don't take my inches away from me, i need all the ones i can get.

nevermind, I'm not an eldritch horror anymore

are you a pretty worm?

i'll airfry a ghost i'm not afraid

kinky. not into that though

gay stuff in the creepy basement causes swollen lips?

*eddie culz voice:* say it out loud.

my brain just imagined Edward Cullen in like a rap outfit

eddie culz before the beat drops: hold on tight spider monkey

but am i a pretty melon?

what is ur secret, thumb

you guys are both bullies, you dont count

i am a hole

not to be a hole about it, but me too.

i am become cheese

mm i'm so edible.

STOP THE LESBIANISM SHES TOO OLD FOR YOU

DON'T LICK MY ASS

i was eating my ass

sometimes it takes a dick to teach

when u don't get a regular boner but a fang boner

he fakes his death a lot

the threat is… unthreatening at best.

i imagined a finger waggle. it’s important.

the ghosts are still in *name* and *name's* head. fucking sick bro.

we see an exorcist fucking freak crawling along the ceiling...

Dora The Explorer: Madre, Pick Me Up I’m Scared Edition

Skel and the eTons make their debut into the world.

YOU GOT NOTHING IN YOUR BRAIN! HOLLOW MAN NO BRAIN!!!!

critique me, writing daddy

it's me and my guiding bolt against the world

humans can’t exactly lick their own assholes

[lonelymaroonsock]

if only i could die anywhere else (Toxic Jalim/Kalim Pre- Relationship)

Important tw: Whump, hypnosis, degredation, abuse, hurt no comfort.

Cross posted from ao3.

~~~

At five o’clock pm, everyday, Kalim’s head gets fuzzy. Or at least that’s what he tells Jamil and the people around him. The truth claws at his insides with a burning sort of anguish.

Because he remembers.

He doesn’t know how, but Kalim remembers every whispered word from Jamil that separates his mind from his body. Jamil will take his body and twist it into a person that is unidentifiable from himself.

Today is no different. Kalim sits in his bedroom and waits for the knock that precedes the loss of control Jamil holds over him. It’s cathartic, in a way. Jamil gets to hate him in an environment that doesn’t hold their power dynamic above them, and Kalim gets to take in that hatred and hold it inside until it settles.

The sound of a fist rapping against his door grabs Kalim’s attention. On shaking legs, he stands and moves forward. He gently takes the doorknob and twists, as he prepares himself mentally for what he is about to endure.

“Jamil!” Kalim says. His eyes are bright with sort of absurd hope. Because in truth, he’s glad that Jamil has learned to be angry. It’s healthy for him. Kalim would be any punching bag that Jamil needed.

Jamil nods, and his hair follows the movement like a tangle of dancers. Kalim always wished that he could look half as nice as Jamil does with long hair, but he found out the hard way one summer that long hair made it look like he was drowning in it. With smooth strides, Jamil steps into the room. “Kalim.” He greets. It’s quiet as he shuts the door and turns the lock. “How have you been?”

These moments of small talk are odd. Really, it would make no difference whether Jamil just came forth and did what he came here to do in the first place. Kalim wasn’t very good at hiding the fact that he knows what Jamil does. He’s aware everytime he opens his mouth and lies about it. He’s not quite sure why Jamil hasn’t seemed to pick up on it, considering that he can almost never lie to the vice-housewarden. Maybe these pleasantries make Jamil feel better about what he’s doing, but he doesn’t really need to. After all, it’s Kalim’s fault he’s so stressed. It’s all Kalim’s fault.

“I’ve been okay.” Kalim responds anyway. His fingers twist into a tight fist in his lap, as he finds his way onto the edge of his bed. It’s comfortable and plush. Nothing like his bed at home, but enough to provide a sense of familiarity. He sinks into the plush mattress. His eyes catch a glance up towards Jamil. He’s always been more sturdy that Kalim ever was. Maybe it was the difference in mattresses. Maybe Kalim grew too soft around comfort, while Jamil hardened from hatred.

Let him hate me, Kalim thinks. Let him heal.

To say that Kalim hears the words come out of Jamil’s mouth is a lie. It’s more like dodging a bullet to then be hit by a car. Kalim watches Jamil’s mouth morph around the words, and all control leaves his body. His body is warped by Jamil’s magic; his will becomes Jamil’s, and Kalim finds his vision fogging like a window after a hot bit of rain.

“Get on your knees.” Kalim hears, and before he can truly process the words, he does. Magic flows around his head like a merry-go-round, complete with music that the spell knows will keep him in this floaty, light space. 

But he still hears. He still hears so so much.

Kalim hears the laugh trickle out of Jamil’s mouth. Fingers tighten into Kalim’s hair and all he can do is let out a soft cry. It hurts. He knows he is tender headed. Ever since he was younger it was the main complaint from his caretakers. Jamil knows as well. It was the main complaint from him also, behind closed doors, where he believed Kalim couldn’t hear.

“Don’t cry.” Jamil bites out the words. His hand tightening further into Kalim’s white, short hair. His fingers dig deep into his skull. “You’re so annoying when you do.” A swift kick knocks Kalim on his back. Not hard enough to hurt or bruise, just hard enough to crack Kalim’s glass heart.

Kalim wants to cry. He wants to sob. But the words are clear, he will not.

“Do you know… even half of what you put me through?” Jamil spits, a glob of it hitting Kalim’s lax cheek. “No, of course you don’t. You’re too stupid.”

No, Kalim wants to say, to cry out. I know, and I’m sorry.

But the truth is that if any of what Jamil was doing saw the light of day, he’d be hurt. Ever since Jamil has been taking out his anger, his resentment, he’s been healthier. Most times, after he’s released from Jamil’s tight magical hold, Kalim’s tried to ease up on everything Jamil scowls at him about. But somehow, the other boy always figures it out. And Jamil gets scared. More scared than Kalim ever wanted him to be.

Because, again, Jamil’s feelings would be thought of as treason to anyone else.

So Kailm lies. He lies, and he lays here and he takes it because it is the least he can do for someone he’s already hurt so dearly. He tells Jamil that he has no recollection of any of this.

Kalim wishes he could come forth about the pounding of self-deprecation these words are having on him, but to do so would be to condemn Jamil to hell. Or something close to that.

“What’s going on in that empty head of yours?” Jamil pushes Kalim’s head to the side with his shoe. He’s like a thick slime in Jamil’s hands. Malleable.

Disgusting.

“Nothing.” Jamil snickers, lifting himself away from Kalim’s supine form. “You’re thinking of nothing, as always.” He sighed, as he raised his hand to brush the braids away from his face. “I have to do all the thinking for you in that small thing you call a brain…”

Jamil’s eyes glint with a sort of giddy excitement. The kind you see on men landing a job or curing a disease. It’s a grand sense of relief that cannot possibly relate to anything Kalim has ever been through. After all the pain Kalim had put Jamil through, this was such a small, effortless way to make Jamil feel even the slightest bit better.

So why did this hurt Kalim so much?

Jamil’s voice cuts through the thick fog in Kalim’s head. “I should leave you here.” He says. He leans forward almost as if to kiss Kalim, before he pulls away. “Leave you here and helpless until you can beg me to help. And then, I’ll walk away.”

The words stab Kalim a thousand times over. They run laps in his head and drown his lungs. Jamil wouldn’t do that, right? Jamil just… he’s just angry, right?

“But of course,” he continues and goes to sit on the bed. “I can’t. Because then I’ll be gone, executed.” Kalim hears him sigh, a pang of something thundering from his heart. “And I envision you’ll be crying.”

“Stand.” Jamil commands. Kalim follows, as he returns to his feet like a puppet pulled by string.

Jamil shakes his head. “What am I doing?” Something flashes across Jamil’s face, and Kalim can only stare as Jamil takes his chin into his hand. “I want you to crawl at my feet, beg for my attention.”

Before Kalim can really realize what he’s doing, he’s getting down on all fours. His body shakes as a wave of disgust fills him. His hands move to tug at Jamil’s shirt, and without any input from himself, Kalim finds the words leaving his mouth.

“Please.” Kalim finds himself saying. His tongue feels heavy and unyielding in his mouth, and his mouth slides over the vowels like someone has their fingers in his mouth, forcing the words through. “Pay attention to me.”

Jamil’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head. “That’s not…” His arms cross, and his foot taps to a silent rhythm. “That’s not what I meant.” He says and grabs Kalim’s hands. He pushes Kalim back. “Stop.” He says, and Kalim feels his limbs become as heavy as stones. 

I’m sorry, Kalim wants to say. I don’t know how to help you in any way that you don’t already know.

“Sit on the bed.” Jamil spits, and Kalim feels his body comply. His eyes are glassy. Tears seem to pool at his eyes despite the obvious inability to break through Jamil’s spell. They slip down his cheeks and onto the bed. As Jamil turns back, these tears catch his eyes and he can’t help but to drag his fingers across the streaks of tears on his face.

“I thought I told you not to cry.” Jamil holds onto Kalim’s chin tight, but not harsh enough to hurt. His teeth dig into the skin of his lip as he tilts Kalim’s head side to side.

It’s then that new words was over Kalim. It’s the release spell; Kalim realizes that. His eyes blink open with a sudden clarity. It’s so hard to pretend like he didn’t just witness the pure unbothered hatred that Jamil had to offer him, but Kalim is able to stifle the air catching in his throat. He puts on a small smile, not big enough to worry, not tiny enough to cause a concern.

He can’t know, Kalim thinks. Jamil would never forgive me.

“H-hey.” Kalim whispers. “Um, what’s up?”

Memories flash through his head of the other times. The humiliation of it all. Jamil never hurt him, but he didn’t need to when the feeling of being degraded to such a worthless degree already filled him. But that was fine, after all, this was all for Jamil. It was to give him a space. A small space, albeit, but a space to express how he really felt toward Kalim.

“Nothing.” Jamil says, and his eyes still keep their gaze locked on the other. “I was just checking on you.” The lie flows so easily; Kalim himself almost believes it.

Then, almost imperceptibly, a flicker of fear passes across Jamil’s face. Kalim almost wants to dismiss it, push it far into the recesses of his mind until the next time Jamil knocks on his door.

“You should go to bed.” Jamil whispers, as he drops Kalim’s chin and moves toward the door. Without even a second worth of looking back, he shuts the door behind him.

Kalim cries hard that night. The words continue to circle his head like a crown of nepotism. He knows that Jamil has it far worse, but Kalim feels as if he’s drowning. There’s no world for him but beneath Jamil’s foot, receiving all the hatred he rightfully deserves.

Little is he aware, that in the hallway Jamil is listening, terrified of the truth that took him far too long to realize.

Jamil isn’t a monster, but like most of everyone at this seven forsaken college, he’s selfish. How was he supposed to gage when enough was enough? How was he supposed to know that Kalim heard it all?

“The one you behold is your master.”

Sleep dodges his grasp that night, for the pure fear of the unknown. If Kalim is aware of him while under snake charmer, what other complications could his signature spell have?

“When I ask you a question, you will answer.”

Is he putting Kalim in danger?

“When I give you a command, you will assent.”

And why hadn’t Kalim called him out on it?

“Snake Charmer.”

But the answer is clear. Jamil and Kalim grew up together. Even if Jamil has grown cold and bitter, Kalim is not the same. He will do whatever Jamil wants him too. Kalim is a pushover in everywhere it has never mattered.

In the morning, as Jamil walks over to Kalim’s dorm to prepare him for the day, there’s a odd shift in the air. It smells of stiff magic. He raises his hand to knock at the door, same as always. “Kalim? I’m here. Open the door.”

The door smoothly clicks open, and Jamil brushes forward. It’s oddly quiet. Kalim is a presence that fills up a whole room. He bounces around, laughing and shouting. Jamil looks up, his eyes meeting Kalim’s.

With a soft thud, the clothing Jamil had brought with him fell from his hands onto the soft wooden floor.

“Kalim? What… what is that?”

Kalim gently point to his pajama shirt. “This?” He asks. His eyes are dull with a red gleam that Jamil would know from anywhere. They pulse with a light that screams unnatural, wrong. “This is my pajama shirt.”

“No.” Jamil whispers. His hands grip onto what little clothing he still has left in his hands from when the pile hit the floor. “What are you doing?”

“I’m doing what I should be.” Kalim responds. His voice is blank, dull, like a computer learning phonics for the first time. “I’m doing what you said.”

[veren-cos]

There is Pleanty to Love

Asmo (OM) x reader who struggles with self love.

Can be read as platonic or romantic. Unless you are a strict romantic cuddler lol

*knock knock knock*

Three times you rapped upon his door. "Just a moment hun!" You could hear him setting things down on his dresser before opening the door. "Well hello darling! To what do I owe the pleasure?" His smile. Oh how much you needed his smile.

"Asmo.."

"Yes?"

And you pulled him into a hug. "Can I just be with you for a while? I really don't want to be by myself.."

"Oh dear.." You felt his hands caressing your back. So softly, delicately. "Of course, come in." He shifted so his hand was around your waist, and led you to his bed.

Despite him being the literal avatar of lust, you never felt any pressure around him. Asmo was safe, comfortable. He was someone you could depend on, and be emotionally close with. And as much as he loved physical attention, he never expected it from you. So once he got you laying down, he held you close. Never crossing a boundary. Just being there for you, secure.

He started messing with your hair again, "You know, I'm always here for you, love. And I know sometimes you just need to be with someone, and I love to be that person for you." He pauses, "But sometimes talking about it can make it worlds better. Right? And you don't have to. But I want you to know that you can, no matter what it's about."

Why was it so hard for you to open up? You've never felt shame around him, except when it came to this. God you hated yourself for feeling like this. You hated yourself for not being able to talk about it. You hated yourself, you hated yourself, you hated your-

"Hey!" Asmo squeezed you a bit. "You spaced out a second there. Seriously, hun, is everything alright?"

"Fuck" How did you ever start this. "Asmo, I.."

"It's okay, take your time."

"Asmo how are you so loving?"

"What do you mean?" He shifted so his legs were entangled with yours, pushing against your back.

You shuffled to face him. "I mean. You show your love to everyone. And you are so confident with it. Especially with how confident you are about loving yourself.."

And you could tell it clicked in his head, "Do you not? Love yourself, I mean." Diavolo, he sounded defeated. So broken at the thought that *you* didn't love yourself.

And your silence was as much of an answer as words.

"Dear. Loving yourself takes a long time. I mean, not for me! I've loved myself from the start!" Normally his antics make you smile or laugh, but it fell flat. "Alright seriously though hun, it's a lot of work. You have to accept all of your flaws, as well as your charms. And finding love for your flaws is so hard. I've seen near every person struggle to love themselves. And as much as I seem confident, it can be a struggle for me too. But a comfort is that everyone here loves you. All my brothers, Simeon, Solomon, Luke. Diavolo and Barbatos. Everyone. We are all here for you, whatever you need."

And you never thought that you could cry from feeling loved. But here you were, tears flowing down as you held Asmo tighter. "Is it really okay?"

"Oh sweetheart. " He kissed the top of your head. "You'll be alright. It's okay to lean on us. On me. You'll be alright. And trust me, if you can't find something to love about yourself, the rest of us will give you all the love you could ever ask for to make up for it. You've got time. And there is plenty to love."

Masterlist

An* Originally this was going to be a more specific fic, but I thought it flowed really well the way it is. So here you go!

[dusty-cobweb]

julian bashir is a british drill rap legend btw.

he got into it shortly after turning 15 because he wanted to rebel against his parents. and what’s a better way to disappoint your posh english parents then to begin drilll? so julian went to the underground drill battles, watched and analyzed their flow and behavior and replicated it /perfectly/. soon enough, he was the pinnacle of english drill.

flash forward to ds9 and everyone is at quark’s celebrating a successful first contact or whatever and quark busts out the karaoke. dax does her klingon opera, miles does “500 miles”, even sisko joins in. the night goes, the drinks flow and eventually the attention turns to our dear doctor bashir and his musical talents. he tries to refuse at first, but with everyone pressuring him how can he refuse? he gets on the stage and everyone is ready for him to make a fool of himself. and then he starts rapping. what the fuck. dax is going insane, throwing sisko around by the shoulders. miles spits out his drink. kira is awe struck at this new side of the doctor. who would’ve guessed that the CMO is a drill GOD.