#i am also very tired and not at all surprised they pulled shit like this so

[leclerc-hs]

do i wanna know? (pt.2) - cl16

pairing: brother'sbff!charles x gasly!reader summary: in which you find yourself tangled in a web of emotions with your brother's best friend OR it was never just sex between you and your brother's best friend warnings: 18+, smut under the cut!, badly translated french (prob), angst!!!!, not proofread!! word count: ~2.3k author's note: SURPRISE SHAWTY!!!!!! i am here apologizing for being MIA for so long. if this is SHIT I apologize I just have been struggling with writer's block for months and have been very stressed and busy with work!!! I really tried my best so don't be too mean to me over this lmaooo. I love u all!!! there will be more of them to come ;) also since it's been so long since I've properly written this MIGHT be a little rusty so pls forgive me

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

THE TRANQUIL MELODY of the waves crashing against the shore is truly a captivating sight. You sat by the water in an oversized t-shirt and bikini bottoms, absorbed in the symphony of nature. So engrossed were you in the soothing sounds, the glistening water, and the caress of the breeze, that Charles’s approach caught you off guard.

“There you are,” his voice resonated like the ocean. You sensed the warmth of his presence as he settled beside you on the sand, propped up on his hands.

Though you didn’t turn to face him, you could feel his gaze fixed on your profile.

“Do you think we’re being stupid?” You couldn’t help but ask. 

“Quoi?” What?

“I just don’t want to hurt Pierre.” You finally turned your head to look at him. “Was it a mistake?”

You didn’t think it was. But the more you sat and thought about it, the more stressed over the situation you became. 

“No.”

You smiled softly, pulling your knees up and resting your head upon them as you truly took in the sight of him. 

“I think we should do it again.”

-

The two of you fell into a pattern quickly.

“Such a dirty fucking slut,” Charles groans out loud as he looked at the sight of you on your knees before him. His cock was heavy in your hand as you slowly start to pump him. Pre-cum leaking from the tip, oozing onto your fingertips. It was a gooey mess.

You stare up at him with a smirk on your lips as you take in his flushed cheeks and his pale knuckles from clenching the countertop so tightly.

“Mmm,” You moan as you bring him to your mouth, swirling your tongue around him slowly. You suck lightly before dragging him in and out of your mouth. 

You swore you could look at him for forever and never get tired of it. You were constantly in the depths of convincing yourself it was nothing but sex. 

“So fucking beautiful.”

“Could stare at you all day, mon ange.”

But is it really?

-

You’re not sure when it changed. But it did.

The gentle warmth of the morning sun seeped through the delicate curtains, causing you to let out a soft groan as you slowly awakened. Shifting in the bed, you squint against the bright light, and eventually force yourself to emerge from the cozy embrace of sleep.

As you turn your head, your attention was instantly met by the striking view of a broad, bare, and muscular back dominating your view. Instantly, a swarm of butterflies fill your stomach.

The early sunlight cast a soft glow on his smooth, tanned skin, accentuating the sculpted contours of his muscles. His breathing was steady and calm, a comforting rhythm that contrasted with the crisp morning air. His hair, slightly messy, fell against the nape of his neck.

The gentle upward curve of your lips was almost instinctive as you reached out toward him, running your fingers through the soft wisps of hair at his neck.

He lets out a small grumble as he shifts around, his face nestled in the pillows. Then, he turns to you, his gentle smile already in place before he opened his eyes. His arm drapes over you almost instantly, tugging you into the warmth of his body and immediately peppering soft kisses to your neck.

“Je pourrais rester ici pour toujours.” Could stay right here for forever. He whispers in between the soft kisses.

You feel the blush form on your cheeks almost instantly.

“Me too,” you respond softly.

“Do you think we could?”

The longing to say yes tugged at your heart, but you resisted, knowing the potential complications it could bring. Instead, you laughed, trying to shake off the heavy thoughts about the chaos and challenges that might follow. For now, it was just the two of you. Just two regular people.

No Pierre. No burdens of the outside world.

It’s been weeks of this. Whatever this was between you. You both found yourself too greedy to give it up. The sex was too good. He was too good.

-

Strong fingers intertwine with the strands of your hair, a delicate tug at the roots sends a tingling sensation cascading across your scalp, igniting a fiery yet exquisite sensation that dances on the edge of pleasure and exhilaration. 

“Nous devons faire attention.” We need to be careful. You softly groan as your bare back becomes flush against the contours of his chest, slightly dampened with sweat. The pace of his hips doesn’t falter as he brings his lips to the shell of your ear.

“Pourquoi?” Why? You know he’s teasing you. “Want me to stay hidden, hm?” The one hand that rests against the soft skin of your hips squeezes hard, as if he needed the reminder that you were here and, in his arms, and on his cock. “Ton petit secret sale?” Your dirty little secret?

The words wouldn’t come. Every time you tried to speak, they tangled in your throat, choked by the weight of the situation. You wanted to tell Charles that you didn’t see him that way, that he meant more to you than anyone else. But your brother…his best friend, loomed too large over whatever it was you two were.

You struggled to hide your wince as Charles places a quick but harsh squeeze to your throat. 

“Not even that will shut you up, hm?” He groans in between each thrust. “Pierre is in the room next over. It’s like you want to be caught.”

“Maybe I should just call him in here, hm?” 

You felt yourself pushing back against his thrusts, meeting him in the middle at a feverish pace, needing to remove the ache between your legs.

“Let him see how big of a cock slut you really are.”

You shook your head, soft moans escaping your dampened lips as his arm slips down and presses to your clit.

“No?” He eggs you on. “You’re just my little cockslut, right?”

You nod eagerly, your head lolled back against the crevice of his shoulder and neck for support. 

“Say it.” He demands, his fingers quickening on your clit. “Tell me you’re my little cockslut while you cum all over me.”

“I’m-“ You struggle to get the words out, too caught up in the way his cock slips in and out of you, his fingers rubbing your clit, and the groans escaping past his lips into your ear.

“C’mon mon ange,” He grits. “Make a fucking mess.”

“I’m yours.”

It happened so fast, it was almost a blur as Charles hurriedly pushes you face first into the mattress, hips slamming into you at such a speed, you both went soaring over the edge of your orgasms.

A few quiet minutes passed as you both caught your breath, little laughs and smiles as both of your bodies lie in a tangled mess.

-

“The Gala is coming up,” Charles spoke. His throat burning in anticipation as he waited for you to catch onto what he was implying. He wanted you by his side. Wanted you on his arm. Wanted no one to touch you but him.

“Nous avons déjà discuté de cela.” We’ve discussed this already.

Charles could slowly feel the annoyance building in his chest as he pushed himself up off the bed, dragging his body to the bathroom to retrieve a wet cloth to clean you up. He wasn’t used to this, to say the least. And he wanted you to himself so fucking badly.

It wasn’t until after his finished cleaning you up, that he spoke again. “Combien de temps?” How long?

You sat up, slipping on whatever article of clothing was closest to you. No doubt, one of Charles’ worn t-shirts that draped to your thighs.

You tilted your head to the side just slightly, encouraging him to continue.

“How long will you avoid telling Pierre?”

-

Giving Charles the silent treatment was probably the worst thing you could’ve done to him. But you didn’t know what else to do. 

Your back was turned to him, the burn of his eyes on the nape of your neck had you on high alert. You couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t meet his gaze.

The room felt colder with each passing second, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on you both. You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it impossible to speak. A part of you wanted to turn around, to meet his gaze and to find some way to fix whatever this was. But the fear of what you might see in his eyes—hurt, anger, hunger—kept you frozen in place. Well, as frozen as you could be while dancing with another man.

He was proper cute. Tan skin, chocolate eyes, scruffy hair. His name, however, slipped past your mind. You think it was Rob. Or was his name Ryan? Something with an R. You think.

It didn’t help in the slightest bit that Pierre is the entire reason you’re in this situation to begin with. He practically forced you into the arms of Rob. Or is it Ryan?

“You look beautiful tonight,” The man looked down upon you, a small grin on his face as he twirled you around the dance floor. A small blush crept up on your cheeks.

“Merci.” You thanked him. “How do you know my brother?” You needed to keep the conversation going. Anything to take your mind off the stare burning your skin from afar.

He opened his mouth to begin a response but was instantly interrupted as soon as the voice of another was by your side.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Charles began, but he was clearly anything but sorry. His voice was stoic, void of any emotion but annoyance. “I need a word with you.” And before you could put up any argument, his fingers clasped onto your wrist, dragging you away from the dance floor and out of the ballroom.

Despite your protests for him to slow down, he continued at his unrelenting pace, tagging you along without regard to your inability to keep up. Charles then ushered you, if one could call it that, into what appeared to be a cramped coat closet.

The dim lighting obscured the usual green hue of his eyes, leaving you uncertain whether it really was the poor illumination or his evident anger that caused this change.

“Are you crazy?” You half-shout, waving your arms in the air in frustration once you pull your wrist from his grip. “You just made an absolute scene in there!” 

“I made a scene?” He raises his voice in frustration. Like he can’t believe that you have an issue with his behavior when you were the one dancing with another man. “You might as well just go fuck that guy on the dance floor!” 

He knew he was talking in fits of jealousy, and he knows that it’s wrong. But he couldn’t contain it. Couldn’t help but have an outburst over this situation. You didn’t even look at him the entire night.

“It was one dance!”

“I don’t care if it’s just one. It may as well be five hundred!” He sneered while his fists clenched at his sides. “Je ne partage pas.” I don’t share.

“I can’t do this right now.” You pleaded softly.

“Do what, exactly?”

“This.” You silently begged for him not to continue questioning. To not go there.

“And what is this?” or what he really meant is ‘what are we?’.

You both fell into a silence as the weight of the question weighed down on you both. You didn’t want to reach this point. You both knew what it was, but you weren’t ready for the answer. It was supposed to be fun and just sex. Something Pierre would never need to know about.

Charles took your silence as an answer. But he refused to accept it. He made a small step towards you, his green eyes locked onto yours, to which you retreated one back.

“Please don’t come closer,” You begged with a small quiver of your lip. “I need you to stand a step away from me.” You knew the moment he was closer; you were done for. Your resolve would be over.

“I can’t.” He emphasized. “I can’t stay away. Not from you.” He was distraught. Why didn’t you understand? 

“Charles, please.” Your lip quivered just slightly as your hands fell at your sides, your fingers playing with the fabric of your dress.

“Do you think I want to be like this?” He pushed. “Do you think I want to be thinking about my best friend’s sister 24/7?” He could feel his resolve slipping the longer he stared at you. You were beautiful, one of the easiest people to talk to, and he couldn’t not love you.

It was so quick. One second you both were feet apart, the next his lips were pressed against yours as your hands grabbed onto his biceps pulling him closer to you. The feel of his muscles underneath his suit were prominent against your fingertips as you moaned softly into his mouth.

Both hands enveloped your jawline, sprawling onto your neck in a feverish rush. It was a clash of tongue and teeth, and neither of you wanted to stop.

[writteninlunarlight-years]

How about the "there is only one bed" trope with our lovely Hazbin Boys; Alastor, Husk, Angel Dust, and Lucifer? <3

Hazbin Boys x Reader One Bed Trope

Scenarios

I made these two parts because I love all the Hazbin boys, and I am a sucker for this trope. I didn't add pentious because I am not confident writing for him. Val is well, Val. Pt1 Pt2

Adam

It was a fucking shit show trying to find an excellent place to stay on this side of heaven. The big man upstairs decides to pay a visit, and Adam just has to see him in person, as if he hadn't seen him twelve million times before. Originally Lute was going to go with him however a situation occurred with the exorcists, you personally think that is a lie but so be it. Being Lute's little sister and third in command over the executioners, you got the job of babysitting Adam.

It wasn't that you disliked Adam for any reason towards you; Lute made it very clear when you joined the battalion that you were off limits; he could flirt, sleep with, and kill anyone he wanted to. Just not her baby sister. So Adam never really got to hang around you much, probably cause he was so afraid of your older sister. However, unbeknownst to you, Adam had a thing for you; though he knew you were not some innocent flower by any means, he knew that touching the forbidden had its perks; I mean, hell, Eve did it.

Sighing, you found one hotel still with a vacant sign; you thought traveling with the first man meant you had ease of access everywhere fucking wrong. Still, you walked in and managed to book the room. The poor elderly angel, though, was so difficult to speak to; you were glad that you went in, not Adam; otherwise, he would have been a dick. Grabbing your bag and motioning him to follow you two heads up to the room. "Yeah, she said it was pretty big, I mean, it should be for two beds." Adam pouted, "Aw babe, you don't want to share a bed with me? Now is your chance to get in my pants while Lute is gone." You scoffed and opened the door to your hotel for the night. "Yeah no not only do I not wan't in your pants I also don't....wan't..........death......Fuck me."

Adam laughed and walked in behind you, "What? You just told me not to fuck you, babe can't be acting all coy with me." He finally looked up and saw why you stalled. He is so dead when they get home; he should have listened to Lute and booked a room in advance. You sighed and walked all the way in. There was a couch. At least you could take it. You were smaller.

Carefully, you started to make the couch into a makeshift bed. "Hey toots, no, none of that. You get the bed bitch. I am not going to be the first dick that made a woman sleep on a fucking couch."

You looked at him, surprised at the offer. You nodded your head and went to clean up for bed. As you slid into the sheets, you saw Adam in his PJs, trying to get comfy. You sighed softly and rolled over, trying to ignore him, yet something pulled at your heartstrings. Lute didn't have to know. You rolled back over and saw the uncomfortable man, "Um, hey, Adam, come get in bed with me." You could have worded that better, but you were tired. You managed to miss the blush on Adam's face as he heard you.

"Yeah, can't get enough of the dickmaster, huh," He dodged a pillow attack from you as he made his way over. Gently, he placed the pillow between you two and climbed in. Lute didn't have to know.

Come morning, no pillow was between you two, your head resting gently in the crook of his neck, his arm wrapped around your waist while his other above his head. You wrapped one arm around him while the other pulled to your chest. You both had slept through the numerous phone calls from Lute and the meeting with God. Adam didn't mind; you deserved the break, and it felt so nice to finally hold you close to him.

Alastor

Charlie sent you and Alastor on a mission to help gain more sinners. Why it had to be on the other side of Pentagram City near Vox's tower was beyond you. You loved Charlie like a sister, though, so you wouldn't fight, and you may have some underlying feelings for a Radio Host that may have swayed your decision to go along with him.

After a hard day of recruiting and passing out flyers, Alastor was some help. Seeing as all of Vox's cronies tried to fight you both on each street corner, it was finally time to call it a night. You were eagerly waiting for Charlie's call, looking at your phone; she was supposed to book your room for you guys out here. After the extermination, Alastor was still recovering, so his shadow teleports weren't the best idea, lest you both be stranded in the shadow realm.

Your phone finally rang to a cheerful Charlie on the other end. She directed you two to the hotel and asked you questions about the recruitment process. As you two talked, the hotel came into view; you sat off in the lobby, talking with Charlie about the hotel as Alastor got your room key. Soon, he stood before you and motioned you to follow. "Do tell Charlie that if she was going to talk to you all night on the phone, she should have been the one to come, not me." You pouted at that. Had Alastor had a bad time with you? That was far from the truth, though. Alastor had a great time showing off his impressive powers to you even though he was still injured, yet he was jealous that Charlie was taking all your time. "S-Sorry, Al. I think Charlie was just concerned. She wanted to make sure we got to the room safely." All you got in return was a slight hum and static. You sighed, and Charlie tried to cheer you up on the phone.

Alastor entered the room first and halted, eyes wide, "Fuck." You had only ever heard him cuss a handful of times, and without static, too, it must have been horrible. Yet, as you hear Charlie's slightly high-pitched laughter, you know she is up to something. Quickly, your phone was snatched from your hand, static buzzing. "CHARLIE WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING THERE IS ONLY ONE BED."

As Alastor yelled at her, you winced. Damn, was it that bad to be stuck with you? You pushed your way into the room and looked around. It was cozy, that was for sure, only one bed. As you finished, Alastor hovered over you, and you started to make a pallet on the floor to sleep on. "And what do you by chance think you are doing my little doe?"

You blushed at the pet name and shrugged. You made your way to the bathroom to change and take a quick shower, not wanting to ruin Alastor's night any more than you had. Once you were done and walking out, however, Alastor was in red PJs, and your pallet was gone. "Hey, where did my bed go, Al? I worked hard on that!"

Static buzzed softer as he sighed, "You are not sleeping on the floor, my dear. Now come get in bed. I made a pillow wall; it is safe."

He sounded sad about it, but you didn't want to trick yourself into thinking there was anything more between you two. You nodded softly and curled on your side, gently drifting to sleep. You could have sworn that as the dreams started coming, the pillow wall behind you disappeared.

Come morning, you were safely held against Alastor, your back against his firm chest, and one arm caged you protectively against him. His other arm lay under the pillow, probing his head up as he slept soundly, inhaling your scent. As for you, the blissfully unaware dreamer, your hands were cradled against you, and you slowly pushed yourself closer into the radiating warmth behind you. Alastor smiled a genuine smile softly; he could definitely get used to this for you.

Angel Dust

Val had sent Angel to a bad part of town for a shoot. You, being the caring, adoring friend you are, decided to go with him just to help make sure no fans or crazies attack him. You had gone to plenty of Angels shoots and even was propositioned by Val many times. Yet you always turned him down and showed your distaste for the moth. He always said that you would come around. How about not. Instead, you were in love with your best friend... cliche, but he was terrific.

Angel put on his robe and walked up to you. You had been spaced out watching the shoot, thinking about the handsome spider before you. As he snapped his fingers in front of your face, you finally reconnected with the world and looked up at him. "What? Sorry, Angel. What is going on?"

He laughs softly and helps you stand, your legs feeling like jelly from sitting on the sound box for hours. Falling into him, he laughed and helped you right again, a soft dusting of pink across his cheeks. "Ya fine toots, shoots ova' let's head out to the hotel."

You nodded, grabbed your bags, and followed him to the limo that would take you to the hotel. Val hadn't known you would come on this trip, but Val always had Vox book double rooms for the whole crew on far-off shoots. The only person who got a single room was Val himself. Sighing you looked out the window as the ritzy hotel came in to view. "20$ when Val sees me, he will ask me to go to his room again."

Angel laughed and shook his head, "Oh no, Val isn't here; this was an exclusive shoot for a customer. So it's just the cast and crew and you."

You blushed. How did you not notice Val wasn't there? You were so stupid. You followed the crew into the building, staying close to Angel as the key cards were passed out. Your room number was in the 9's; it was one of the lovely posh rooms. Okay, Vox, you did something good for a change. You rode the elevator up and talked with the others as they reached their floors. A comfortable silence filled the small space when it was just you and Angel.

At the ding, you two walked to the room, entering though you both found the problem....it was a sweetheart's room. This was Val's standard room. "Damn toots, there's only one bed. I will go ask for another room, don't worry,"

You grabbed his arm, not even thinking, "No, it's okay. It would come out of your pay, too. We have been best friends forever, Angel. We can share the bed." You gulped saliva building in your mouth. He gave you a soft smile and a nod.

"Alright, no funny business," he leaned down close to your ear. "Unless you want there to be." You scoffed and smacked his arm, heading to the bathroom first to clean up. Angel smirked; he was excited to finally have this chance. He got the bed situated to try and make it more comfortable for you.

As you exited, you thanked him for the consideration and let him shower and clean up. You got comfy on the bed and closed your eyes. You slowly drifted off to sleep, exhausted from all the running around. When Angel returned, he smiled softly and climbed into bed next to you. Gently, to not wake you, he placed his head on your chest, listening to your heart.

When morning came, Angel clung to you with both sets of arms, holding on to you, his head nuzzling your chest and neck. You had one arm protectively around him and the other in his hair. The rest of the crew left hours ago, but you two stayed tangled in the sheets, having a sweet, cuddly morning.

[eepy-evie]

Twisted Wonderland Senior Headcanons

A/N: i am very tired as i write this, BIBI is saving my life force. I just got screamed at by my mom but the fans (no one) can’t wait 😎. Im sorry Lilia’s is kind of short, im pretty high and have been pushing this off for days.

Contents: Various non romantic headcanons for the seniors in TWST

Trigger warnings (if any): Religion mentions (Trey’s + Leona’s + Vil’s + Rook’s + Idia’s part), eating disorders (Vil’s part), stalking mentions (Rook’s part… no surprise), minor adult themes (idia’s part)

Trey Clover

I might have this feeling only because i also bake but he has beef with multiple people about bread.

Like i mean people spreading misinformation (NO YOU DO NOT NEED TO ADD SUGAR INTO BREAD, IT DOESN’T DO MUCH)

Besides my personal beef with ig bakers…

He doesn’t listen to music, lofi background stuff at best.

He’d listen to anything someone put on with no complaint but he doesn’t feel the need for music for mundane things

With his obsession with brushing teeth i feel like he loves mint

Like i mean spearmint gum constantly, mint chocolate chip ice cream, idk mint leaves in drinks?

Bro can not understand if someone else doesn’t like mint

I believe he is an Atheist living in a Christian household

Its probably brought up rarely but he just doesn’t really believe that saying grace before dinner does anything

I think he’s way too empathetic for his own good, i mean like excusing lots of harmful things due to how someone was raised

(Totally didn’t mean to refer to Riddle but whatevs)

Cater Diamond

Get this man into kpop NOW

I feel he is rivaling Idia with his, honestly abusive, amount of slang

I dont think anyone who isn’t chronically online could stand to hear his thoughts

Or who isn’t insanely mentally unstable

But he pulls shit like “she=onika ate=burgers” every single chance he gets

Which i wont blame him for that, i pull medieval slang every second i can too

He loves brittany broski with his whole heart and soul

Not only is she funny as hell but she can also be very serious in a blink of an eye

On the low he enjoys those insider videos

He likes watching them and pausing them to argue the point to no one

Going back to kpop briefly…

He loves Aespa

Do i know any of the members of Aespa to tell you my assumed bias? No.

Also loves Zerobaseone

Ricky bias

Although i may be biased (oh my a silly pun, you scoundrel)

I do believe that he is a funny person but he is very repressed

I dont mean to make this a whole angst post but he genuinely doesn’t understand how he can express it

He is very sensitive to rejection so i think that leads him to extreme lengths to be liked

And I’m not just talking about how he acts a certain way to please others

I mean a deep rooted guilt for not being what someone wanted

Leona Kingscholar

…all my headcanons for him are purely how I’d personally treat him

Someone get this man a mukbang video and a comfy bed

He barely listens to music but when he does its some rnb stuff

He doesnt care for stuff thats too loud but he does like soft music even if he isnt open about it

I need to make him see nekomimi switch, twitter.gov, and anything else that has catgirls/boys so i can see his reaction

I dont think he holds many physical attributes to lions besides the ears, tail, and teeth but he most definitely holds many reactions and other stuff

Like he is literally sleeping in a garden most the time

He has long(er) nails and hates cutting them

Erm… idk man

I think he had a big Religious breakdown in his childhood

I dont really know what Religion he’d be to start with(due to my lack of knowledge of Religion in Africa) but he’d have the whole moment of betrayal

And then he’s completely Atheist for the rest of his life

Vil Schoenheit

He has a side account where he responds to all his hate comments

For music taste… hear me out…

He likes, on the low, vkei

But no metal like kaneto juusei or gulu gulu I mean malice mizer

He enjoys the instrumental along with the twists they take on classical

Moi meme motie x Vil Schoenheit collab when???

He 100% doesn’t express it though, he tells the public he likes whatever’s popular

I feel like, this may or may not be me projecting, he’s a hellenist

Obviously worshipping Aphrodite and has an altar for her which he never publicly speaks of but is not hiding

heres a bit of TW for eds + that type of stuff

I feel like he has an extremely bad relationship with food

He doesnt see it as something to nourish your body but instead a sort of numbers game

Like with a limit of however much someone says and the whole game is to stay under that number in calories

Besides that i feel he’s very orthorexic to the point he’d refuse to eat something if it looked too “bad” to him

(End of tw)

I know he has a very argued gender identity but i dont think he’s too confused by it

He’s very firm that he is who he is and he never seemed to have much of an inside problem with it

Maybe he got poked fun at a few times but thats all his problems with it

Rook Hunt

Get this man away from me

He is in many fandoms and somehow knows everything going on all the time

Bro personally took down Nayeon’s stalker by himself

But seriously i dont think his intentions are bad, i think he is just trying to be on top of everything in the worst was possible

He doesn’t really think its creepy himself but most the time he is

He is also a Hellenist who worships Aphrodite but also Artemis

He is so very open about his Religion

He makes those hopecore videos on tiktok and has amassed 10k followers but no one knows its him

Yearns to be in the south/midwest for the scenery

Just yearns in general

Bro is single handedly bringing back male yearning and being chalant

Saw bridgerton as a normal tuesday for him

1000 hours on c.ai

I will not, and should not, elaborate.

Is that projecting? Yes. Do i care? No.

He has the longest and some how most effective body/skincare routine ever

I mean like he’d do some shit like “once in a blue moon bath in pure hyaluronic acid for 2.5 hours on the dot”

He loves absolutely everything on everyone and its to a detriment to me personally

Hooked nose? Loved. Chubby? Love. Literally anything unconventional? Consider yourself yearned for.

He listens to anything and everything

Although he cant stand songs about break ups or anything to do with hate

Put this man on “doughnut” by TWICE now.

Idia Shroud

Yes… give me this nerdy man…

He 100% (mostly canon) loves jpop idols

Prolly an akb48 stan

I cant even get started on everything he likes

But i can tell y’all 100% that he is not overly flirty or overly easy to fluster

Istg all i see is either big dom idia or uwu shy boy idia

And both are wrong (in my opinion ig)

He starts arguments about anything and everything in game chats

Because he’s grown up in this big company family he was forced to appear better that how he truly acts so i believe that would also entail with being a die hard hellenist

But without any spotlights he does care, he just likes his games and anime

Speaking of anime…

He loves shoujo, he’s in hiding though

He literally wants to be sawako from “from me to you” but will never say it

Somebody come get this man

If anyone asks he just loves Naruto and One Piece

But we know the truth…

Istg he plays an absurd amount of eroges for the plot

He’s depraved on twitter

Two accounts, one for public image and the other for the unspeakable

Do NOT let him find any dating advice on there cause he will take it and act like a fool

He loves breakcore music and anime intros and thats about it

Besides his jpop idols

I dont think he like kpop, for some reason he just has a grudge against some fans

A little self insert but he 100% has autism (as we all know…) but he also has arfid

For those who dont know… arfid is “avoidant restrictive food intake disorder” which is like you are a very picky eater

He aint struggling with it, he succeeding (LYING)

Malleus Draconia

Get this man a cat or some shit like that

Can someone please make him watch all of aphmau Minecraft diaries and then twilight back to back

This strange individual has that man from the notebook shaking in fear

Bros a hopeful romantic

Randomly says inspiration quotes that you cant find anywhere online

It just came from his heart

He only listens to classical songs he knows how to play

Though i’d doubt if you showed him something he’d dislike it

Bros the yearner

I showed up to the yearning contest and went into anaphylactic shock at the sight of him there

He has honestly researched every single religion for fun

Highlight god damn bible verses for no reason

He needs to make an iceberg of every single religion and why they are good/bad

I just know he has an insane knowledge of lore in any book he’s ever read

Please make him watch smiling friends

You’d have to pause every 5 seconds so he can process it

You could make him do anything tbh, just be like “you should come watch *whatever it is* with me” and bro is outside your door

For shame with the amazing attention towards practically anyone who shows anything besides fear or hatred comes the fact he is unaware of most modern things

He has a tamagotchi and thats it man, get him a 3ds at least

He cant use a phone, cant use a computer, and barely understands the concept of social media

But at least he has the spirit to learn

Lilia Vanrouge

Do i even put him as a senior?

Bro is pushing some mystical number that no one knows

He’s like one of those grandmas that never mention their age and whenever its brought up all they say is “never ask a woman her age”

… perchance a bit controversial but i think he’s bad at cooking on purpose

Ain’t no way someone fucks up cooking THAT bad

I think he really likes horror games

And i dont mean those shitty mascot horrors like poppys playtime

I mean fatal frame, faith, and visage type shit

He listens to breakcore too

I dont make the rules

Hes a gamer grandpa so he either has to have pretty good taste in games/music or the absolute worst

HE’D LOVE GULU GULU AND VKEI

Hes practically already mana sama

Hes got all the moi meme motie dresses

Get grandpa off taobao NOW

I want my nyanya madoka dress, and i will not be stopped by some twinkish old man.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Take Me Home

Summary: After a night out at the bar with your co-workers after a long week at school, Javi picks you up and takes you home

Word Count: 3.2K

Pairing: husband!Javier Peña x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: Alcohol/drinking (girl, you're plastered), allusions to smut, being a drunk, horny mess, mentions of food/eating, being hungover, Javi taking care of you, the Backstreet Boys (?!), just sweet, sweet fluff 😩

A/N: This was inspired by an ask from a sweet anon!! This made me giggle the whole time I was writing it, drunk Osita is my favorite 🤪 You know Javi would absolutely get a kick out of your drunken antics and would take such good care of you and your terrible hangover. Also who doesn't love a drunk Pop-Tart?!

This can be read as a standalone or as a part of the It's Never Too Late Series!

If there was one thing you knew, it was that the first few weeks of school were never easy. You were tired, stressed, and feeling like you were running on empty. You were hesitant when some of your new coworkers had suggested all of you head to the bar for Happy Hour on Friday after work, knowing damn well you’d be absolutely exhausted. But after the week you’d had, getting drunk with your teacher friends and commiserating about the chaos that was each of your classrooms couldn’t have sounded like a better way to cap off the craziness that had been the past 5 days.��

You had offered to ask one of your friends for a ride to the bar so Javi could enjoy his Friday night without having to worry about you, but Javi being Javi, had more than happily dropped you off with your friends, and planned to pick you up around 11:30, giving you what you thought was more than enough time to enjoy a few drinks and de-stress with your co-workers. 

4 margaritas and 2 surprise shots of tequila later, it was safe to say the state you were in was a little more than just de-stressed. 

With how much you had to drink, you had found yourself paying absolutely zero attention to any clock, and had completely forgotten that you told Javi you would meet him by the front doors when he came to pick you up. Javi had a sneaking suspicion when he pulled up to the parking lot and you were nowhere to be found, that you were probably having a much better time at the bar, and were a few drinks deeper than you intended. Well, Javi wasn’t wrong to assume that you had downed more than just a couple drinks, but what he wasn’t expecting was for you to be absolutely hammered. 

Walking through the door, Javi couldn’t help but smile as he saw your familiar frame leaned against the ledge of the edge of the bar, gently rocking your head and swaying your hips to the muffled music playing under the chatter of the bar patrons. You must have been very focused on ordering whatever it was you wanted from the bartender, because you had been seemingly oblivious to Javi’s presence behind you. He firmly placed his broad hand on the small of your back, pressing his fingertips into your hips, making you immediately whip your head around in concern. 

“Woah, woah, woah, don’t you dare fucking touch me, I am happily married and will glad beat the shit out of- AH! JAVI!” Your demeanor quickly shifted from a woman ready to throw down in a fist fight, to absolutely ecstatic, realizing the hand resting on your back belonged to your husband. Setting your drink down, you threw your arms around his neck, wrapping him in a tight hug, pressing your face against the soft fabric of his button down shirt. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you, I thought you were some creep trying to grab my ass. But you’re not a creep, you’re my hot husband, and you can grab my ass all you want. What time is it? You smell really good.” From your giggles and rambling, Javi could tell you’d had more than your fair share to drink, trying to gently put down the glass you had picked up to take a sip from back down on the bar. 

“Hi, Hermosa. I’m coming to pick you up, remember? Maybe let’s get you a water instead of finishing the rest of this, okay?” Javi smiled, passing your cup off to the bartender, and exchanging it for a new glass filled with water. Handing it off to you, your face scrunched in confusion as you took a long swing. 

“This isn’t a margarita?” You questioned, handing it back to Javi, thinking that he had clearly made a mistake in ordering for you. Laughing, Javi nodded, trying to hand the water back to you. 

“I know, Osita. It’s water, baby. Have a few sips and then I’m gonna take you home, alright?” 

Raising an eyebrow at him, you gave him a little smirk before obliging, taking a few gulps of the water and setting it back down, crossing your arms against your chest. “Did you say you’re trying to take me home, Javier Peña?” 

“Yes, I’m taking you home, you dork.” Javi laughed to himself, shaking his head as he picked up your coat and your purse from the back of the chair you had been perched next to. “Why don’t you go say goodbye to everyone and make sure no one else needs a ride home, okay?” You nodded, speeding off into the dwindling late night crowd, quickly finding your friends, hugging them and then pointing over at Javi, biting down on your lip, as the rest of them giggled, waving at him as he politely waved back. A few moments later, you found Javi again, stumbling through the bar, grabbing a fist full of his button up shirt, pressing up on your tiptoes to give him a long, tender kiss. 

“Take me home, baby.” 

After your 3rd trip to the bar bathroom and your self pep-talk in the mirror earlier, you knew you were drunk, but you hadn’t realized just how drunk you were until you found yourself trying to crawl your way into Javi’s truck, the passenger’s seat seeming much higher up than usual as you took several missed steps trying to hoist yourself into the car. 

“You want help, hermosa?” Javi tried to keep his best from laughing as he watched you struggle. 

“....Maybe. Jav, I think I’m actually really drunk. Or the seat got higher. I think it would be less embarrassing if the truck grew. Or maybe I shrunk… Drunk and shrunk, those rhyme, Jav!” You sighed, placing your hands on your hips, looking up at Javi’s car in frustration. 

“I think you and the truck are both the same size, baby. Here… 1, 2, 3.” He smiled, grabbing you around your hips, lifting you into your seat, reaching over to click your seatbelt in before making his way to the driver’s side, strapping himself in and starting up the car. As Javi pulled out of the parking lot, you reached down to turn up the volume on the radio, turning it up even louder when you heard it was “Everybody (Backstreet’s Back)” by the Backstreet Boys. Even in your plastered state, you knew how much Javi despised this song, claiming he’d heard it enough times to last him a thousand lifetimes. You, on the other hand, thought it was catchy as hell, even more so now that you were drunk. 

“I don’t understand how you don’t like this song! You yelled over the music, dancing in your seat, singing along to the lyrics. 

“Am I original?” 

You pointed at Javi, waiting for him to sing along to the “yeah’s”, frowning when all he did was laugh at you, 

“Am I the only one?” 

You pointed at him again, this time getting a half assed “yeah” out of him as you poked at his shoulder. 

“Am I sexual?” 

You outstretched your arm towards him, raising an eyebrow and biting down on your lip as you smirked, watching Javi reluctantly sing along to the last “yeah”, shaking his head, laughing at you. 

“Am I everything you need, you better rock your body now- EVERYBODYYYYYY!” You screamed, pumping your fist in the air, pretending to sing into your imaginary microphone, Javi trying to keep from bursting into hysterics from your over dramatic performance. You paused mid chorus, looking over to see him lovingly laughing at you, making you give him your most sarcastic stank face. “Are you laughing at me, Javier Jesús Peña? Are you not enjoying your concert?” 

“Osita,” He grinned, reaching down to grab your hand, intertwining your fingers with his, “there’s nothing I love more than watching you sing along to whatever song it is while we drive. It’s my favorite thing. Even if you’re fucking ridiculous sometimes.”

“Nuh uh, you’re the ridiculous one, Jav. Ridiculously fucking hot. Do you like, ever look in the mirror and just admire how attractive you are? All the girls at work think so, too. They told me when I was leaving tonight that I was a lucky lady and you know what I told them? Bitch, absolutely I am. My husband is so fucking hot and sweet and perfect and to top it all off, he’s got a huge dick. Wait, maybe I didn’t say that last part to them… If I did, I’m sorry. But I’m not sorry, ‘cause it’s true.” Javi practically choked on his own spit, his quiet laughter to himself halted by your last comment. 

“Well, you’re very sweet, Osita. I hope for everyone’s sake you spared them the last part.” Javi laughed, giving your hand a little squeeze as you rested your head on his shoulder across the center console. 

“I’m being serious, Javi! It really isn’t fair to everyone else how fucking handsome you are. Or that like, you’re fucking sex god. Can we have sex when we get home? Please please please?” You begged, trying to give him your best drunken puppy dog eyes and pouty lip, Javi gently patting your leg knowing you were in absolutely no state to do anything besides get force fed some Gatorade and ibuprofen and go to sleep. 

“I think that we need to get you into bed, baby. Maybe tomorrow, okay?” 

“Into the bed where we have awesome sex all the time.” You retorted, shooting him a clumsy wink, pointing your finger at him. “Except this morning when we had sex in the bed and the shower. The shower is also a good place for sex. Do you remember when we had sex this morning?” You giggled, rubbing your hand over Javi’s thigh, working your way further up the denim before Javi reached down, placing your hand back in his, pulling it away. 

“Yes, Osita, of course I remember. Tonight we’re just gonna get into the bed and sleep.” Javi chuckled, smiling at you with your bright red cheeks, still dancing in your seat to whatever song was playing on the radio as he turned to pull into the driveway of your house. 

“Oh my gosh, we’re already home?! That was so fast. Let’s go to bed so we can sleep.” You gave Javi an overexaggerated wink as you parked in the garage, fumbling with the door handle to try and get out of the truck. Wanting to make sure you didn’t topple out of the passenger seat, Javi quickly unbuckled his seat belt, walking around to your side of the car, helping you down. You shot off to the door, fighting with the locked doorknob to try and get it open, instantly turning to panic when you realize it wouldn’t budge. “Jav! Jav! I forgot to bring my keys with me, I think we’re locked out of the house, I’m so- Oh. Nevermind.” Javi came up behind you, dangling his keys before reaching down to unlock the door. You stumbled through the mudroom and down the hallway, your eyes lighting up as you realized you were passing the kitchen. Trying to dart your way towards the pantry, you forgot that you had kicked off your shoes only a few moments earlier, making you slip and stumble on the hardwood floor, promptly landing you right on your ass. 

“Jesus Hermosa, are you okay?” Javi rushed over, eyes wide with concern as he watched you tumble, trying to pick you up from the hysterical heap you had fallen into. 

“I forgot I had socks on and I slipped. I’m such a fucking idiot, oh my god, that had to have looked so funny. My butt is gonna hurt tomorrow.” You cackled, hoisting your body up as Javi pulled you to stand, holding his hands firm on your hips, making sure you were stable. 

“Alright, c’mon Osita, we’re almost to bed.” 

“Wait, wait, I want Pop-Tart though! That’s why I was running to the kitchen!” You protested, Javi grabbing you to stop you before you tried to run full force down the hallway and slip again. 

“I will get you a Pop-Tart, you just get yourself into bed, okay? I’ll be there in a second.” Javi pleaded with you, trying to direct you back down the hallway towards the bedroom, hoping you would go and he wouldn’t have to wrangle you any further. 

“You promise?” You frowned, poking Javi’s chest, standing your ground until you were positive you were getting a Pop-Tart before you fell asleep. Javi leaned down, planting a soft kiss in your hair, brushing a stray piece  away from your face, giving you a reassuring smile. 

“Yes, I promise.” 

That was all it took to have you dancing down the hallway towards the bedroom, back to singing to yourself with each step. 

“Everyboddyyyyy, rock your booooddyyy. Rock your body right. Back Street’s back, alright!”  

Finally seeing you had made your way into your room, Javi made his way to the kitchen, shuffling through the pantry to grab a shiny silver Pop-Tart wrapper, a red Gatorade and a bottle of Advil from the medicine cabinet before quickly heading back down the hall, your singing now muffled as Javi found you laying face down in the bed, still fully clothed. Javi wasn’t going to let you fall asleep in jeans and a sweater, so he carefully flipped you over, making you giggle as he began to unbutton your pants, shuffling them down your legs. 

“I thought you said we weren’t having sex tonight, so why are you undressing me, hmmm?” You sassed, wiggling your bottom half to help Javi get your jeans off before he grabbed your arms, pulling you up to sit and prompting you to lift up your arms, stripping you of your top. “Are you trying to look at my boobs? I want a piece of Pop-Tart before you get a free show.” 

“I’m just trying to get you in pajamas, baby. I’m not gonna let you fall asleep in what you wore to the bar. How about this, if you can get yourself in some pajamas, I’ll give you your Pop-Tart.” Javi chuckled, rolling his eyes at the ridiculous compromise he was finding himself making with his drunken wife. 

“You strike a hard bargain, Mr. Peña. Fine, I will put on pajamas. Only because I love you very, very, very, very, very much. And I really want that Pop-Tart.” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as Javi threw you one of his t-shirts and a pair of sleep shorts, haphazardly trying to wrestle them onto your body before flopping back down on the bed. “Okay, they’re on! Pop-Tart me, bitch.” 

“Did you just say Pop-Tart me, bitch?” Javi snorted, looking at you, sprawled out like a starfish, his shirt draped over your body backwards.

“Pop-Tart me, bitch. Please.” You replied, smugly nodding your head, pointing finger guns at him. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute. I’m gonna go close up the house and then I’ll be back in bed. I love you, Osita.” Javi grinned, planting a kiss on your forehead, gently brushing your hair out of your face. 

“I love you too, Javi. My Pop-Tart and my pussy are both ready for you when you get back.” You giggled, reaching over to grab the shiny, silver snack package Javi had left for you on your nightstand, now grabbing it like a microphone as you sang into it. “Back Street’s back, alrightttttt!” 

“Jesus Christ…” Javi laughed, shaking his head as he gave you one last kiss before making his way back out of the bedroom, leaving you happily humming as you nibbled on the corner of your Pop-Tart, propped up on your stack of pillows. It didn’t take long for Javi to close up around the house, making sure to grab an extra package of Pop-Tarts and a big glass of water from the kitchen on his way back. “How’s the Pop-Tart, Osita?” Javi asked, gently closing the door behind him. 

Silence. 

“Osita?” He asked again, this time turning around to see that your singing and giggles had come to an end as you were passed out cold, sprawled out on top of the covers, Pop-Tart resting on your chest, rising and falling slowly with your soft snores. Javi laughed to himself, carefully taking the Pop-Tart off your chest and lifting you up to tuck you in under the covers, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “Ducles sueños, Osita. Te amo mucho, loca (Sweet dreams, little bear. I love you so much, crazy.)

The next morning, you could hear yourself audibly groan as you turned over in the bed, shielding yourself from the sunlight peeking through the cracks in your curtain, head pounding from the brightness. You rubbed your eyes, squinting as you looked over at your nightstand to see the red letters of your alarm clock reading “10:37 A.M.” and the shiny glare of an opened Pop-Tart package, covered by a blue sticky note. You twisted over, realizing that Javi’s side of the bed was empty, before turning back with a grunt, reaching over to grab the sticky note. 

Morning Osita. There’s Advil and Gatorade for you when you wake up. I think you may need it. I’ll have breakfast for you whenever you get up, unless you just want the Pop-Tart. 

Love you 

-J 

Slowly, you hoisted yourself up, grabbing the Gatorade and pills Javi and left for you, popping them in your mouth, followed by a big swig of your drink, running both your hands over your face before letting out a deep sigh and sliding out of bed. You trudged down the hallway, rubbing your hand on your hip to ease the bruising pain you had felt since getting out of bed, greeted by the smell of breakfast in the kitchen, and Javi sitting at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper, sipping on a cup of coffee. 

“Good morning, sleepy head.” Javi chuckled, peeking over the top of his newspaper as he watched you as you stumbled your way into one of the empty kitchen chairs next to him at the table. 

 “I feel like shit.” You groaned, propping your elbows up on the table, resting your face in your hands. Javi set down his paper, draping his arm over your back, tracing small circles with his thumb along your still backwards shirt as he planted a soft kiss in your messy, sleepy hair. 

“You were pretty drunk last night, Osita. Did you see the note I left for you?” Javi laughed quietly, shaking his head as he continued to rub your back. You turned your head over, looking up at Javi’s sympathetic gaze, scrunching your face as you let out a deep sigh. 

“Yes thank you, oh my god, that Gatorade and Advil is gonna save my life. Why the hell was there a Pop-Tart on my nightstand?” You mumbled, reaching over to steal a sip of Javi’s coffee, accidentally letting a little dribble fall down onto your shirt, you were just now realizing it wasn't on right. “Wait, is my shirt backwards? My ass hurts like hell too, what the hell happened last night?” 

“Why don’t I get you some breakfast and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Taglist:

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns@blackfemalenerd @deppydelta

[lvrsparadise]

'JEALOUS' - M.S

Synopsis - She's always liked him.

Warnings! - Profanity, kissing, reader being jealous, Matt n reader being cute, fluff

A/N - Okay. I want to kms because I had originally written out something so beautiful for this. And then I accidently deleted something, and I forgot that if I press control z it ERASES THE WHOLE DAMN THING! So, this is a re-write. Enjoy!

Work was so tiring. I got cut from the floor at 7 instead of 9, when I was supposed to get off, because I had no tables. I made barely $40 in tips. And not to mention the weird drunk creep who kept asking my co-workers and I, very uncomfortable questions. I sigh as I clock out of the system and grabbing my stuff before saying bye to my co-workers.

I walk out the back to my car. I open the driver door and throw my stuff in the passenger seat. I just sit there and recollect myself before I put the key in the ignition, turning on the car.

Thee drive back to my house was quiet. I didn't have the radio on, I didn't have the windows down. I wasn't even on the phone with anybody. Today was that stressful.

'I'm going to have to ask my maneger for more hours next shift.'

I pull into my driveway and grab my stuff, turning off the car and walking to my front door. I open it and am immediately bombarded by my puppy, Sam, and my cat Mr. Murray.

I set my stuff down on the couch before walking upstairs to my room. I get undressed and hop in the shower. After my very refreshing shower, I throw on some comfier clothes - a pair of pink and black plaid pajama pants, a white tank top, and one of Matt's hoodies he left over.

I flop on my bed with a sigh. I sit up and open my phone, opening my messages app before clicking on Matt's contact. Matt is my brother's best friend. Well, actually, Chris is my brother's best friend, but I learned that they're a package deal. Get one, get all.

1 ring. 2 rings.

"Hey. Everything alright?"

I breathe out a small sigh of relief at the sound of his voice.

"Hey. Yeah, no everything's fine. I've just had a stressful day and I was wondering if we could go for like a drive or something?"

"Yeah, no that's fine. I'll be over in 10."

"Okay. Thank you."

"Always."

That's the last thing I hear before the line goes dead. Knowing he's going to be here in less than 10 minutes, I slip on my converse and head downstairs.

I love on and play with Sam and Mr. Murray for about 5 or 6 minutes before I hear a car pull in my driveway. I instantly recognize it as Matt's car. I grab my wallet, just in case, my keys, and my phone, placing all of them in the pocket of the hoodie. I hear a knock at my door and Sam barks. I yell out his name to get him to stop barking as I open the door.

There he is. Looking perfect as ever. Even in sweats and a hoodie. He's wearing that damn smile. One I return gratefully.

"You ready?"

"Yeah. Let's go."

I close my door behind me as I walk out, locking it as well before I walk over to the passenger side of the car. I get in and so does Matt. He pulls out of my driveway and starts driving around with no destination.

"How was your day? Why was it stressful?" He turns is head towards me as we're at a red light.

"Well, I got cut from the floor early because we were dead, and I had no tables. I made barely $40 in tips. I also had to work with that one girl I told you about. She made the day ten times worse. And this morning, Sam thought it would be nice to wake me up with a surprise next to my bed." I rest my elbow on the center console, resting my chin on my hand as I look out the window.

"Yikes." I hear him say as the light finally turns green and we start driving again.

"What about you? Anything fun happen?"

"Chris almost like, broke the ceiling in the warehouse."

"How in the hell?"

"I have no idea; I wasn't around when it happened. But Nick was and he kept making jokes about it reminding Chris that he did it. It was hilarious." He chuckles quietly.

"I bet."

"Oh shit."

"Hmm?" I turn my head towards him, his gaze switching between the road and the dashboard behind the steering wheel.

"I'm almost out of gas. I think I have enough to get us to that 7-11." He jerks his chin towards a 7-11 that's not too far. It's dark out, not many cars are on the road, the gas station seems empty.

He pulls into the gas station, pulling up to a gas pump. He turns the car off after rolling down the windows a little bit. He gets out and walks over to the pump, which is next to me because for some reason, the gas tank is on the right side of his car instead of the left. So, as he fills the tank up, he's also leaning on my window, talking to me.

"Did anything interesting happen in your day though?"

"Um, let's see. Oh, there was this older gentleman who tipped me $25 for being the best server he's had. He was celebrating his anniversary, but he said that his wife had passed away a few years ago. So, every year on their anniversary, he goes out and gets himself a meal. It was so sweet, it almost made me cry."

"Wow. That does sound swe-"

He's cut off by a girl walking up to him, looking to be around our ages, maybe a year or so older. She's talking with hi and flirting with him. I feel my blood run cold with jealousy at the realization she's flirting. Matt's hand is like holding onto the window, his hand partially in the car. I take advantage of that and I somewhat intwine our fingers, my own mindlessly playing with his.

Either she can't see me through the somewhat tinted windows, or is openly ignoring my presence, she asks him out to dinner. I squeeze his hand and he squeezes mine back. I hear him say 'Oh, I can't sorry. My girl is in the car' and my heart skips a beat. Multiple beats actually.

He finishes filling most of his tank and pays before walking over to the driver's side as quick as he can speed walk without running. He turns the car on at lightning speed. He starts to drive off to my house.

The drive is silent. Other than the really quiet hum f whatever is on the radio, there is not a peep coming from either of us.

About halfway through the drive back to my house, he reaches his right hand over the center console and grabs my left hand, interlocking our hands before resting them on his thigh. My chest is filled with butterflies. My head is empty. I feel my face heat up as I turn to look out the window next to me.

We pull up to my house. As soon as he puts the car in park, I'm out the car and making a b-line for my front door, unlocking it in record time. I didn't realize Matt was hot on my heels until I turn to close the front door, his hand stopping it. I sigh in defeat knowing I won't win. He pushes the door open and then walks in, closing it behind him.

"Were you jealous?"

"What? I have no Idea what you're talking about Matt." I place my wallet and keys on a table I have next to the door for that reason. Of course, I was jealous, but I would never admit it out loud. Especially to the guy I was getting jealous about.

He shakes his head and crosses his arms "Wrong. Were you jealous?"

I roll my eyes slightly "Matt- I don't get why you're asking me this. It would be the same if it were me-"

"No, it wouldn't."

"Wha-"

"A guy touches you? Jealous. A guy flirts with you? Jealous. Takes you on a date? Kisses you? I'm jealous. I'm jealous as hell. How have you not known? I'm not very secretive about it at all. Now I'm going to ask you one last time. Were you jealous?" His voice, despite being stern and angry, it still is soft and kind.

I sigh in defeat, crossing my own arms, mirroring his pose. "Yeah. I was. I was very jealous."

There is nothing said after that. And there doesn't need to be. Next thing I know, I'm being softly pinned against the wall and Matt's hands are on me. One on my cheek and the other on my waist. I try to look at the hand on my waist but the hand on my face makes me look into his eyes. He doesn't say much, but words aren't necessary right now. He leans in and kisses me.

The kiss is soft, tender, sweet, and everything a hopeless romantic like myself could ever want. I entangle my hands in his hair, closing whatever space was between us.

After what felt like hours, but was really 20 seconds, we pull back for air. Both of us are panting.

"I'm taking you out Friday. 6:00. I pick you up, with flowers, take you to dinner, then I take you to a 7:00 movie, then we walk on the beach before I take you back home and kiss you goodnight. How does that sound?"

Although my eyes are still closed, I hear the smile in his voice, and at his words I can't hold back a smile of my own. I open my eyes and look into his beautiful blue ones that look like they're the ocean. I swear I get lost in them for a few seconds before replying.

"That sounds perfect."

I don't have a taglist for the Sturniolos!

If you want to be in it, all you have to do is ask! <3

I love all of y'all!

[sailoryooons]

Please | Oneshot | (myg)

☾ Pairing: Yoongi x f. reader

☾ Summary: Yoongi doesn’t ask for much. He never has to, with you. And yet when he comes home from a late night at the studio, particularly tired and a little cranky, there is a single thing on his mind. Except you want to hear him ask, this time.

☾ Word Count: 4,222

☾ Genre: Established relationship, pwp, domestic shit

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Needy and very soft Yoongi which is a warning in itself, literally can these two say anything without mummbling, pegging!!!! Finally!!!!!, ass play (m. receiving), Yoongi riding strap!!!, referring to a dildo as readers cock because fuck it that’s hot, reader doesn’t get to come this is about Yoongi, teeth rotting admiration and fluff in parts, explicit language, a little bit of aftercare, no mentions of anal prep because I am lazy and because this is a perfect world, also reader is referenced to having a vagina but there’s are no other references to gender identity, no explicit dynamics but reader is ~leading~ Yoongi in a sense

☾ Published: March 17, 2022

☾ A/N: I FINALLY WROTE PEGGING AND IT’S MIN MOTHERFUCKING YOONGI!!!!!! I have been dying to write soft Yoongi begging to be fucked forever, and I finally did it. I am very nervy about it because I’ve never fucked someone with a strap but I did terrible and maybe unreliable research but I did research nonetheless so feel free to tell me if I’m wrong for something (beyond the fact that like Yoongi just strolls in ready to be fucked with like nothing else but fingers and lube okay I cut out housekeeping parts). Anyway - enjoy!!

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask

The bed dips behind you gently, pulling you from sleep. While you’re not typically a light sleeper, your rest is always fitful when you go to bed without Yoongi. Most nights when you fall asleep in your bed without him, you startle awake when he opens the door to the apartment, or at the hush of the shower when he sneaks by you.

Tonight, though, he’s made it to the bed, the mattress sinking with his familiar weight and the smell of his mint and eucalyptus shampoo filling your senses. You roll over on instinct, half awake, body tuned to seek the heat of him. 

When you touch his skin, you hiss in surprise. He’s still cold, not yet blanket-warm. He chuckles a low and scratchy sound that barely makes it past the whirr of the tower fan near the door. Despite his chilled skin, your hands seek the silky smooth skin beneath his cotton-soft shirt and the scratch of his legs against yours. 

Yoongi makes room for you, opens himself up, and lets you fold into the shape of him. You fit perfectly, head tucked to his shoulder, arm around his middle, legs tangled. You always have. 

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he mumbles against your forehead, minty breath sweeping your brow. He already knows you’re awake, further from sleep than you were before you turned over, but still sleepy. He nuzzles you. “It’s late.”

“Mhmmm.”

“You usually hear me sooner.”

His voice is velvet, a dark buzz against your forehead where his words hit your skin. You love the sound of his voice, especially so near sleep like this. 

“Mhmm,” is your only answer, unable to string together anything, just enjoying the smell and feel of him. The warming skin. The soft thud of his heart. 

For a moment, it’s quiet. The heavy dregs of sleep begin to pull at you and drift under, breath evening out. Sinking into that soft, floating feeling right before you’re truly asleep, content and-

“What if I was an intruder, hmm?” Yoongi asks, pulling you back up from the depths. 

You frown. The heavy feeling of sleep fades like mist burned off by the morning sun. Yoongi’s question hangs in the air and you feel awareness prickle at your neck. 

You crack an eye open at him. “Hmm?”

He’s staring at the ceiling, face nothing more than a shadow in the cool dark of the room. Only the city lights give a muted glow to his side profile, a slip of silver. You can’t see his eyes, but you can tell they’re open, awake and alert. The rest of your grip on sleep slips through your fingers like sand, prickling awareness tingling through you. 

“What would you do if it wasn’t me, hmm? Sleep through a home invasion?” Yoongi idly plays with your sleep shirt, fingers pulling at the softened hem. 

Time has granted you the ability to chip away at the armor that surrounds Min Yoongi. After years of being together, you know the double meaning of his words and the hidden meaning in his actions. And right now, you know that Yoongi is tired and heavy limbed, but talkative. 

Min Yoongi has never been talkative for as long as you’ve known him. Sure, he can talk about music and his work with excitement and sugar-rush bursts of enthusiasm, but his social battery has a small window. He can’t be talkative for long, and he is certainly never talkative before sleep.

Unless he wants something. 

Narrowing your eyes, you lean into him a little, nuzzling the familiar curve of his jaw with the bridge of your nose. He lets out a sound low in his throat, almost a purr. He tilts his face toward you, nose brushing yours. 

“Why are you so talkative, hmm?” your voice is scratchy from disuse. “Unlike you.”

“It was just one question.”

“Hmm.” You squeeze him around the middle, fingers twisting in his shirt. He makes another sound, soft and dreamy, letting you crush him to your side. His eyes flutter shut, lashes dusting against your brows. “What do you really want?”

Yoongi is bashful tonight, face pressed into your neck. He hides there, your brows furrowed together as you feel him more than see him cling to you. Wiggles a little deeper into your side. Clutches your shirt a little tighter. 

His voice is so soft when he answers, hot against your pulse. “Nothin'.” 

It doesn’t seem like nothing. Yoongi is almost always asleep the second he hits the mattress and fuses himself to your side. But you let the silence hang in the air, dropping a hand down his back to slide it under his shirt. His skin is warm now, your fingers dancing up his back, dragging softly. He shivers against you. Whines a little at the feeling. 

Yoongi’s feet scrabble on the bed as he gathers yours against his. His knees pull in a little tighter. He makes himself a little smaller. Presses his face in a little closer, mouth flush to your neck, lips soft and not quite a kiss, but something close. 

Ah. 

“Need help getting to sleep?” you begin to rub his back, letting your blunt nails scrape lightly over smooth skin. He shivers again and barely gives you a nod. “How can I help, baby?”

“I don’t know.”

You smirk, touch turning firm as you reach the small of his back, massaging the muscle there. Feeling the soft dips of his dimples. Curious, you slide your hand beyond the waistband of his sweatpants, squeezing his round ass. Yoongi lets out a high-pitched whine and you grin. 

“Ahhh,” you murmur, pressing a kiss between his creased brow. “You do know. Tell me how to help.”

“Want you to make me tired.”

“Yeah? How do you want it, hmm?” He goes quiet. Where his pelvis is pressed against yours, you feel him start to harden. You grin fully now, Yoongi’s arousal chasing away any fragments of sleep. “Come on,” you urge, catching his mouth with yours and speaking against his lips. “Tell me.” 

His whine is low and fuzzy against your mouth as he squirms, trying to put distance that he doesn’t really want between the two of you. You don’t let him, gripping his hip and pulling him close, pulling your leg over him to press his clothed cock firmly against your underwear. 

“Want you to fuck me,” he slurs against your mouth. You pull his bottom lip with your teeth, sucking gently. He sighs, melting into you. “Please.”

For a few moments, you don’t answer him, content to kiss him properly and lick into his mouth, to ply open the seam of his soft lips and swipe your tongue in. His kisses are lazy and wet, half drunk on sleep and high on wanting you. Wanting too much of you to go to bed without you. 

This is your favorite, being here in bed with him tangled and tired. This side of Yoongi, the soft and blushing version who shies away from your hand when you press against his dick makes you smile. Makes butterflies swirl in your stomach, makes your thighs clench together. 

“Okay,” you say simply. “But you gotta do the work. You woke me up.” 

Yoongi’s mouth turns down. You can feel the frown against your chin, where his lips are slightly parted and warm-wet from kissing you. You hum, a question as you slide your hand out of his sweatpants to rub up and down his back, fingers pressing along his spine. 

“I want you to fuck me,” he says again, pressing against you on the words you and me. 

“Ah.”

Pressing a kiss to his closed eyelids gently and murmuring, “Okay, baby. But you still gotta do the work. You too tired to ride me, hmm?”

“No.” His answer comes out in such a rush of air that you can’t help but laugh, cunt aching at his desperation. “Not too tired.” 

“Okay.”

These routines are practiced yet never feel quite the same. The room is cold when you pull back the blankets, rolling on your side to pull open the nightstand. Yoongi is lost in the loft of the blankets, but you can hear the hush of him moving around, his shirt sailing over your head, followed by sweatpants. 

A shiver works its way up your spine as you gather the half-full bottle of lube, its contents shining in the window light. Yoongi rolls from the bed as you rotate back to where he was, snapping the cap on the lube. Its click is like thunder in the silent room, Yoongi looking at you with wide eyes over his shoulder. 

Yoongi is stunning in every manner of the word. His shoulders are broad and smooth, flexing as he pulls open a drawer to the dresser. His back is beautiful and smooth, dotted constellations of a few freckles sweeping toward his tapered hips, and his very round ass.

When Yoongi turns around, you don’t eye the soft harness in his hand or the flash of pink silicone. All you see is him: dark hair curtaining his round, moonbeam face, lips chapped and bitten, a red flush creeping up his chest and neck, dusky nipples hardened by the cool air. 

Gaze dipping down, you smirk. Yoonig’s cock is hard at the thought of fucking himself on you. It bobs against his stomach as he shuffles onto the bed, brown tip dripping pearls of precum. Yoongi chews on his lip, midnight eyes dropping down to look at your slick fingers. 

Yoongi puts the harness and his favorite pink dildo at the foot of the bed, lip sucked into his mouth as he looks at you with round eyes. You lay propped on the pillows, your back pressed to the headboard. You spread your legs, making room for Yoongi there. 

Carefully, Yoongi lays down on top of you, his arms going around your waist and squeezing tight, head tucked against your collarbone. He exhales, shaky and trembling a little as you let him settle his weight against you, cock pressed to the shirt covering your lower half. 

“So sleepy,” you murmur. “This is all I’m gonna do for you, yeah?” 

Yoongi nods against your chest, melting into your touch as you use your lubed fingers to slide along the seam of his ass, dragging slowly. You press against his rim, smiling as you feel him twitch as he lets out a keen. 

The room is cold, but when Yoongi shivers against you as you gently rub your fingers around the tight ring of his rim, you know it’s not from the temperature of the room. His hips squirm back and forth, leaking cock dampening your t-shirt. He pants against you, saying nothing as you rub your fingers back and forth, not pushing in but providing stimulation that's not enough.

But you don’t give him what he wants right away. What he needs is soft and slow. He lets you peel him apart and you feel the way the muscles of his stomach jump against yours. His arms tight around you as you press harder, his face smashed against your neck. 

Having him like this, liquid in your lap and voice cracking as he asks you for more is your favorite thing in the world. Perhaps it doesn’t happen enough, this reverent supplication. As you push just the tip of your finger into his clenching hole and he sings, you think that you need to do this more.

But you’ll worry about more later, laser-focused on the way that he breaks apart as you hush him, working your finger in his ass. He loosens up and lets you sink into the heat of him further and further. His breaths are staccato-sharp, coming out punctuated against your pulse point. 

It’s wet where his mouth huffs, spit slicking your warm skin where he drools against you, slack as you dip your finger deep deep, pressing against his prostate. Yoongi’s reaction is to let out a long, soft whine, his body going rigid around your finger, tense with pleasure and kicking his feet. 

“Easy,” you murmur, words pressed against his furrowed brow. You place kisses against the crown of his head, coaxing him to relax. “Let me in, baby. Come on.”

Yoongi nods - perhaps more to himself than to you - and takes a deep, shaking breath. He goes boneless, mouth slack, eyes closed and full weight on you. It’s comforting, the heaviness of him on your chest and stomach as you stroke your finger gently against his prostate. 

Sounds drip out of him like honey. They’re subdued and drawn out, barely loud enough to hear. But you’re tuned to him now, watching the way his nose and mouth twitch as you continue to finger fuck him slowly, listening to the way his breath comes out in a whoosh when you tease another finger at his rim. 

“Please,” he mumbles. 

You hum. “You’re so fucked out from just one, baby. You gonna be able to take another?” He nods his head knocking into your chin. It’s not painful, but you tsk at him anyway. “How are you gonna take my cock like this, hmmm?” 

“I can.” His eyes open and he turns his head. Gives you a single slow blink. “Just feels - nnnn - feels good. I can take it. Please.”

“You’d better.” 

It’s an empty threat. If Yoongi asked you to lay him on his stomach and fuck him deep into sleep, you’d do it. You’d do anything he asks of you, but teasing him is fun. It makes him fussy, fingers twisting into your shirt. It makes him needy, mouth screwed up, cheeks flushed, and muscles all tight. 

It’s fucking perfect, having him like this. So you give in to him, pressing a second finger in slowly. It’s a stretch and Yoongi’s whimper is pain-laced pleasure, his jaw flexing as he clenches his teeth. You remove your other hand from where it runs through his hair, scratching his scalp to uncap the bottle and squeeze more liquid between his cheeks.

“Cooooold,” he protests. 

You tut at him. “Need more, don’t whine.”

“You’re mean today-”

His complaint is choked off with a moan as you thrust your fingers in hard, his walls hugging your fingers so fucking tight it’s hard to move. Again, his feet kick against the bed, Yoongi unable to sit still. “You woke me up and asked me to fuck you,” you remind him, voice low. “I’m being very nice prepping this perfect little ass of yours.”

With a huff, he settles in and focuses on the way your fingers feel. You watch, delighted as the only sound is his static breath and the wet squelch of your fingers. You press against his prostate, massaging it the way he likes, making Yoongi tremble and clench his teeth. He doesn’t tense, letting you press and drag inside of him the way you want, the way that leaves him trembling, his lip tucked between his teeth. 

Yoongi’s thighs begin to twitch and you feel him rutting against you, seeking friction against his cock. Carefully, you pull your fingers out of him and he lets out a cracked cry, begging you not to. You smack his ass, giving a wet snap.

“Come on.” You catch his mouth and devour him, kissing him with tongue and teeth and making him fall to your side. “Fuck yourself on my cock like you said you would, Yoongi.”

The power that comes with this is immeasurable. You move together, tangled limbs and messy as he falls backward, watching you with big, round eyes and bruised mouth as you pull the loops of the strap up your thighs, sinching it snuggly. You grin as you adjust the pink dildo - Yoongi’s favorite - and tug, making sure he’s secured it. 

Yoongi is a vision, shining in a thin layer of sweat, blotches of red blooming across his skin, heating up from the inside out. His lashes are dark and lined with tears from fighting the orgasm your fingers nearly pulled from him, dark nipples hard and cock swollen and dripping. 

Arousal floods from your stomach to your cunt, sticky wet where it meets the cotton of your panties. You fight the urge to rub your thighs together and grit your teeth to ignore the ache between your thighs. As much as seeing Yoongi crawl up your legs, wet and panting turns you on, this is about him and his pleasure. 

The snap of the lube cap is loud, making Yoongi flinch where he is settling on your thighs, staring at you. You give him a grin, beckoning toward his hand. He lifts one toward you, palm up, hissing as you pour a generous amount on his palms. 

“Come on,” you whisper. “Jack me off, get it nice and wet for you.”

Of course, it isn’t a real cock. You can’t feel it when Yoongi wraps his long fingers around it, squeezing and working it like it’s an extension of you. You can’t feel it when he brushes a finger over the bright, pink tip. There’s no shutter of stimulation when he twists his hands, wet schlick of the lube sliding between messy fingers. 

It doesn’t make the moment any less arousing, watching Yoongi’s hands slip over the silicone, slicking it for himself. Your pussy clenches around nothing, your heart pounding in your chest as you watch him. You suck your bottom lip in your mouth, tired but loving this, loving the way he slides up your legs, ready to use you for himself. 

“Just like that,” you encourage, lifting your hands from where they rest on the bed to hold his hips. He lets out a sound at your touch and your heart flips. “Slow, baby. Don’t hurt yourself.”

“‘M not,” he mumbles, frowning. His bottom lip juts out. You can’t help it, removing one hand from his hip to prod at his mouth with your fingers. He looks up at you, half-lidded and glassy-eyed. “I’m gonna go slow. I’m tired.”

“Too tired?” He shakes his head and you drop your hand back to his hip, giving a squeeze. “Okay. Come on, then. Sit on it.” 

One of Yoongi’s hands goes to your shoulder as he leans over. He shadows you, fingers slipping a little on your skin but digging in for purchase. You hold his hips steady while he reaches behind him, grabbing the base of the toy and lowering himself, rocking his hips a bit until the pink crown catches his hole. 

Fingers dig into skin, yours into his hips and his into your shoulder, blunt nails biting. He moans loudly, his head dropping down to rest on top of yours. You massage his hips, feel the muscle ripple under his supple skin as he sinks a little lower, letting the stretch make him squirm. 

“You’re so fuckin hot,” you mumble under the weight of him, watching as he sinks further, swallowing it up. His cock bobs, neglected and drooling, smearing precum over his flushed skin. You want to reach out and grab him, but for now, you want to see if he can come untouched. “Just like that baby.”

“Please,” he gasps, and you know he doesn’t mean please do it for me. It’s a word thrown out in a haze, the only word he can remember to cling to as he slides all the way down. 

Yoongi sits with the toy fully sheathed, his thighs quaking and his breath shaky. He places both of his hands on your shoulder and you turn your head, placing a loving kiss on his wrist as he lets himself adjust to the stretch. 

Running your hands up and down his ribs, you urge him to go on, to take what he wants. He sighs, lifting his heavy head off of yours as he lifts himself, sliding up the toy easily before dropping back down. The sounds he makes are hypnotizing. 

Dazed, you watch as Yoongi repeats the motion, slowly fucking himself in your lap, cock bouncing, head tilted back and blissed-out face pointing at the ceiling. His lips are parted in silent prayer, backtracked by the steady beating of his ass against your thighs.

Everything about him is soft at the edges, his sounds, his scrunched-up face, his skin under your hands as you drag upwards to brush your thumbs back and forth across his stiff nipples. He lets out a mewl, a violent shiver vibrating through him at the added stimulation.

“Please,” he mumbles again and you’re not sure what he’s begging for but you give it to him anyway, keeping up with the brushing of your thumbs. 

This is perfect, you think. This here, with heat trapped between you, Yoongi trembling as he pleases himself the way that he wants, chases his orgasm at the speed that he wants. You don’t rush him, you don’t plant your feet to fuck up into him. He does the work, just like he said. Just like he promised. 

Yoongi becomes desperate in your lap, his breathing labored as he fucks himself harder, presses you into the pillow and headboard as he grinds down on you and lets out a debauched sound as the toy presses against his prostate. You grin, elated.

“Just like that,” you breathe, reaching for his face to pull him to you. His kisses are sloppy and uncoordinated, his high so close that it’s all he can think about. “Fuck yourself just like that.”

“Pleeeease,” he moans, slurred at the ends. 

An incomprehensible string of noises comes out of his mouth. Yoongi is gone, driven only by his need to come and you watch in fascination as he chases his orgasm. Knobby knees trembling, fingers gripping yours desperately, hair stuck to sweaty temples, your underwear and shirt damp from sweat, lube and his precum.

Fuck you almost think you can come like this, only visually stimulated as Yoongi comes apart at the seams, voice broken and cracking, eyes rolled back under fluttering lids as he goes rigid. His cock twitches as he comes, ropes of white spilling on his stomach and flushed chest, your shirt and arms. 

Your eyes are for Yoongi only. He seems suspended in time, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows thickly, a line of sweat dripping down blotchy skin and catching in his collarbone. You have the sudden urge to lean forward and catch it with your tongue. 

Instead, you run your hands up and down his sides and around his hips, fingers massaging tense muscles as you go. He catches his breath as you rub, soothing knots and spasms.

When he can breathe normally and opens his eyes, his pupils are moon-wide and he’s dazed. Carefully, you roll him to your side. He huffs and whines at the movement but you shush him. With him on his side, lost in the loft of the pillows and blanket, you pull your hips back. It’s a wet drag and Yoongi whines as you leave him clenching and wanting. 

Empty, he sags into the bed with a heavy sigh. He makes you smile, this tired and blush-stained boy who fucked himself to the edge of sleep. You get up, peeling off your shirt and shivering in the cool room before tossing it in the hamper. You trudge to the bathroom, flicking on the faucet to warm the water as you remove your strap, unceremoniously tossing it into the bathtub to clean tomorrow. 

Grabbing hand towels, you soak them under the water before walking back to Yoongi, who is already half asleep. Carefully, you roll him over, wiping off the cum and lube sticking to his heated skin. His eyes flutter open and he gives you a tired smile, making your heart squeeze. 

You take care to wipe off any fluids on both of you before stripping the blanket and pulling a new one over him. He fists the covers and pulls them up high, tucking them under his chin. You chuckle, going to the dresser to slide your ruined underwear down your legs and replace your shirt.

Just as you step into the lace, Yoongi speaks up from the bed. “Leave them.” You turn and look at him to find he’s watching you, laying on his side with his hair splayed on the pillow like spilled ink. “You didn’t get to come. I intend on fixing that in the morning.”

Your stomach flips. “Yeah?”

He closes his eyes and nods. “Come to bed, please. I miss you.”

And you know what he means when he says it. It isn’t I miss you because I haven’t seen you in a while. It isn’t I miss you because you’re far away even when you’re right next to me. It’s I miss you even though I just had you, I miss you when you’re gone for even a second. 

Sliding into the bed, you cuddle up to his back. He’s warm and smooth, legs tangling with yours as you curl yourself around him. He twines his fingers with yours and pulls them to his mouth for a kiss before tucking your linked hands against his chest. His heart beats steadily and his breaths even out. 

“Love you,” he mumbles. 

Yoongi’s asleep before he can even hear you say it back. 

[ugh-yoongi]

she, by proxy | myg, kth

(or, the one where yoongi gets what yoongi wants, even when what he wants is taehyung. especially when it's taehyung.)

✤ pairing: yoongi x reader; taehyung x reader; yoongi x taehyung ✤ genre: est. relationship (yoongi x reader), pwp ✤ rating: explicit; minors dni ✤ warnings: a lot of swearing, drinking but no one's drunk, a friend group in which everyone is queer and has fucked at least once probably, taehyung is a messy hoe but yoongi's an entire disaster, pining, open relationships, polyamory that is discussed briefly, i have been told there are some feelings involved. the most important: there is gay stuff in here!!! i repeat, some of this is VERY GAY! please do not read if that isn't your thing! ✤ smut warnings: girls making out, a threesome, dudes kissing, oral sex (m. receiving), anal fingering, vaginal fingering, taegi get pegged, dirty talk, dudes touching themselves a lot, come as lube (but there's also real lube dw), come eating, voyeurism, a lil slapping (thighs/clit), the dom/sub dynamics shift throughout the fic but mainly dom!reader, very mild degradation, a lil begging, taehyung cries, fingers always seem to wind up in mouths, hair pulling, frottage, yoongi accidentally gets edged, praise, protected sex, dp (fingers & piv at the same time). i think that's it :') but let me know if i forgot anything. ✤ word count: 8.3k ✤ credits: thank you to @effortandmore / @the-boy-meets-evil / & @here2bbtstrash for beta'ing this for me. my personal porny fairy godparents. i appreciate you all a whole lot. ✤ author's note: can you believe my degenerate brain dreamed this up and then i wrote all of it in two days in a delirious haze, opened the doc this morning to make final edits, and added almost 2k more. idk who i am anymore. if i missed anything it's bc i finished & edited this during jk's live and i was distracted, to say the least. anyway this is embarrassing i feel like a prude so i'm gonna go hide. pls come scream in my inbox with me unless it's to yell tired shit at me abt writing mxm/pegging/whatever else i warned you this is gay.

You hadn’t been surprised the first time, and you’re not surprised now, countless times later.

A girl slides into Taehyung’s lap—long hair, bubblegum pink, almost certainly a wig—and his hands immediately go to the small of her back. Large, nearly swallow her up, and they move to rest possessively at her hips, his grip tight as he pulls her closer. Her top is cropped latex and leaves very little to the imagination, which isn’t an issue for you or Yoongi because she’s not what Yoongi’s looking at. His eyes are locked on Taehyung’s hands; locked on the way the tendons flex as he manhandles the faceless girl in his lap, hikes her over one thick thigh.

Ten more seconds of this and all of you will be looking for a new club.

The air is hazy and thick, the floor sticky with god knows what, and Yoongi reaches for you beneath the table. His own large hand finds your smaller one, those knobby knuckles almost uncomfortable when he twines your fingers together. He’s still staring at Taehyung, and you want to do something, say something, it’ll be someone else soon, stop watching, you’re only gonna hurt yourself, but you know him, and you know when he gets like this it’s best to just let him ride it out. Suffer a little.

(Right now, it doesn’t seem like it’ll be tortured as last time, at least—when all of you had gone someplace else, some seedy spot in an Itaewon basement, and Taehyung had some girl pressed against the wall outside the bathrooms, fingers buried deep in her cunt as she shook and came. And Hobi, smarter and sharper than any of you but still so fucking stupid, had just—

“Fuck, man, they’re gonna need a mop and bucket for that. I mean, shit, it was so much? The sound when it hit the floor—”

Jeongguk had pulled a face. Half doe-eyes, half mortified terror. “When what hit the floor, hyung?”

“Her fucking squirt, Jeonggukie, what the fuck do you think—”

And Namjoon, just as wide-eyed and terrified as Jeongguk but for an entirely different reason, had laughed awkwardly and said, “Haaa, maybe we should talk about something else?” as he looked between Hoseok and Yoongi.

That night had been shit-tier, nearly unsalvageable, so at least it doesn’t seem like Taehyung’s in that kind of mood. At least the girl in his lap still has her clothes on. At least his hands are someplace you can see them. At least Yoongi’s still beside you.)

So you bide your time. Take stock of who’s still here and where they are, because the girl in Taehyung’s lap has her lips on his neck and things might go south faster than you’d originally anticipated. Hoseok and Jimin are on the dance floor, hips doing something sinful and too much; Namjoon’s at the bar, jaw clenched as the bartender passes him over for the fourth time in a row; Soyeon and Hyungseo are in the other side of your booth, tongues sloppy as they kiss just because they feel like it; Jeongguk, shoved in the corner on Yoongi’s other side, is slack-jawed as he stares at them, and Jeongguk is a fucking pervert so you know he’s hard.

“Put your dick back in your pants, Jeonggukie,” you say, loud enough for him to hear you over the music. The bass is heavy as it drops, feels like it’s thrumming through your veins, and Jeongguk startles. Bangs his knee on the underside of the table in his panic, and Soyeon and Hyungseo don’t bother breaking apart to look. “You want another drink?” you ask Yoongi, squeezing his hand a little tighter.

He shakes his head, finally drags his attention away from Taehyung. There’s someone new in his lap: chin-length silver hair, thin legs that go on for miles, tan skin covered in boldly-colored tattoos, could be anyone. Yoongi isn’t looking anymore, but you are, so you catch it when Taehyung looks up. Looks right at Yoongi, wants to see if he’s watching, but instead he just finds you. “Gonna go smoke,” Yoongi answers, and you slide out of the booth to let him leave.

“Is hyung okay?” Jeongguk asks when the two of you are pressed back together. He sips leisurely at his drink, trying to make it last until Namjoon makes it back from the bar with another one. Something baby blue and shockingly green, a little umbrella on top. Two cherries. “He seems sad. Hey, watch this.” Jeongguk pops one into his mouth and presents the knotted stem to you seconds later.

This is the part you never know how to explain: that Yoongi loves you but sometimes he wants someone else. Not instead, but too. That you love Yoongi and want him to have whatever he wants, and that jealousy is foreign to you. That you and Yoongi love each other but do things a little unorthodox, which is not out of the ordinary for a friend group as ran-through and commingled as yours, but still takes patience and care to explain.

So you just ruffle Jeongguk’s hair, laugh at his squawking protests, and wrangle him so you can press a kiss to the top of his head. “Don’t worry this pretty little head about your hyungs, okay?”

Jeongguk surfaces with a glare, surface-level because you’ve embarrassed him in front of two hot girls that are still making out, and hides his flushed cheeks behind his drink. “Is it about Taehyungie-hyung?”

“What’d I just tell you?”

He pouts, but you’re saved from another interrogation by Namjoon’s unceremonious return to the table. He’s so flustered by his one-sided feud with the bartender that he slams the blue-green drink down a little too hard, spills half of it in Jeongguk’s lap. “Move over,” he says to you, and you cock an eyebrow in return. “Please,” he amends, like that’s what you’d been looking for, but when you still don’t move he gets a little whiny and panicked. “They’re relentless,” he says, pointing his thumb at Soyeon and Hyungseo like you can’t see them. “Don’t make me—”

“What about me!” Jeongguk wails, pressing his hands pathetically to his groin like he’s trying to stem bleeding, at the same time you roll your eyes and fire a, “Says Mr. Eight-gigabyte Porn Folder,” at Namjoon.

You receive another glare, this time from Namjoon, and he doesn’t hesitate to steal Jeongguk’s spot against the wall when he goes to the bathroom to deal with his soaked pants, only to start swearing when he realizes the seat is wet, too. “Jesus fuck—”

“That’s what you get.”

“Fuck off,” Namjoon fires back. “Where’s Yoongi-hyung?”

“Outside smoking.”

“Smok—why is he smoking?” At your silence, he jerks his head up, intent on getting an answer out of you. Instead, his question dies on his tongue as he follows your line of sight. Another new person in Taehyung’s lap, sucking Taehyung’s fingers into their mouth. “Ah, yeah. That fucking guy.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Be nice, Namjoonie. You know Taehyung would hook up with a microwave if it gave him attention.”

“What number is that, then? Hasn’t he gotten enough attention?”

“Third I’ve seen. The first one was cute. I thought for sure he was gonna leave with her.”

Namjoon huffs, shakes his head. Takes a long pull of his beer. “He’s not gonna leave with anyone. He just does this to piss off hyung.” Then, like he’s coming to a realization, he turns to look at you with a quizzical look. “Wait, where’d Seokjin-hyung go?”

You stare back in disbelief. “How long were you at the fucking bar? He left hours ago.”

“Did he?” Then, quieter and to himself, “How long was I at the fucking bar?”

Whatever game Taehyung is playing, Yoongi is woefully inept at playing along.

Doesn’t know when it’s his move or when it’s time to sit and watch. Doesn’t know the rules. Doesn’t really listen when you try to explain it to him; probably doesn't want to hear it. Yoongi seems to think he’s at his best when he’s a little sad, a little miserable and yearning. At its core, that’s what the game is, and as much as he keeps touching the thorns to see if he’ll bleed, you know he still enjoys it.

(Know he gets off on it, too.)

Yoongi reaches for you. Steadies himself with his hand on your shoulder, pupils wide as saucers—dark dark dark in the corner of this grimy club—eventually breaking into a smile when you grab his sweat-slick hands and guide them to your waist. Your bodies move together like waves, pushing apart only for Yoongi to continuously pull you in closer, dazed from the feeling of you pressed against him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, words impossible to hear over the music, “look at you. So fucking pretty.”

He threads a knee between your legs, the sound of his groan drowned out as you roll your hips against him. Maybe Yoongi doesn’t know the rules to this game, but you do, and you make sure Taehyung’s watching when you drag your core against Yoongi’s thigh. He groans again, and his hands grip your hips tighter, moving you back and forth on him the way he does when you ride him.

You watch as he drags his eyes upward, see the exact moment he spots Taehyung across the club. His profile is lit up by the strobe lights, filling in the contours of his bone structure with greens and blues. He’s with Jimin and Hoseok now, dancing with the girl from earlier with the pink hair, her back pressed to his chest. He leans down and whispers recycled filth into her ear that she seems to buy. You watch as Yoongi closes his eyes tight; watch him pretend it’s Taehyung dancing with him; it’s Taehyung’s hips he’s gripping onto; it’s Taehyung who’s moaning and desperate for him in this moment.

You watch as his eyes snap open again.

You watch as he realizes he’s in this daydream alone.

And you wonder, briefly, if this should bother you. If this is fucked up, that Yoongi’s hard against you because he’s thinking about someone else, and you find that you don’t care. What you and Yoongi have doesn’t need to make sense to anyone except the two of you.

“Wanna go home,” Yoongi slurs into your ear, fucked up from the feel of you, the thought of Taehyung.

You smirk, tangle your hands in his hair and tug a little just to fuck him up even more. “Yeah? What d’you wanna go home for? It’s still pretty early.”

“Wanna fuck you,” he whines. Tries to hold you in place to grind harder against you and whines again when you move just out of reach. “Baby.”

“You know the rule.” There’s a drop of sweat that rolls down the side of Yoongi’s neck that you chase with your tongue. “Tell me what you actually want and we can leave.”

The breath he sucks in is harsh, fractured, like your question is a special kind of torture. You know it is. Unlike with Taehyung, this is a game both you and Yoongi know the rules to. Unlike with Taehyung, this is the game Yoongi plays to win. The song changes again, this time to something filthy and slow, and Yoongi fits himself to your back, moves until both of you are facing Taehyung. “Want you both,” he says into your ear. Nips at the lobe. “Want to watch you fuck him the way you fuck me.”

“Don’t wanna fuck him yourself?”

You feel him shake his head. “Not this time.”

“What are you doing, then? In this fantasy of yours?”

Yoongi presses closer, the outline of his hard cock pressing into the small of your back now. “Watching, at first. Wanna see you ruin him.” His hands skim along your skin, dip beneath the hemline of your shirt, dance across your stomach. “Wanna watch you make him fucking cry.”

“Are you telling me how?”

Yoongi’s laugh is low, a little caustic. “I won’t need to. He’s so fuckin’ easy.”

“And yet you want him this bad,” you taunt. “Someone easy like that—doesn’t seem to be your type.”

He bites along your neck. “Watch yourself.”

“I’m not the one all fucked up over Kim Taehyung.” You make eye contact with the man in question. Watch as the look on his face fades into a smirk, syrupy and slow. Sleezy, you think. He probably is as easy as Yoongi says. “I should tell him how fucking hard you are. Should tell him you’re gonna take me home and fuck me and come thinking about him. That’s pretty fuckin’ dirty, Yoongi.”

It’s nothing you haven’t said before. Sometimes you press even harder, humiliate him a little when he seems to be in the mood for it, but this time he goes stock-still. Silence stretches between the two of you, the only people standing still on this dancefloor, and you’re halfway turned around to see if Yoongi wants to fuck or cry when he says, “Do it, then.”

You laugh. All part of the game. But then Yoongi grabs your hand, moves it to his cock, straining against his skin-tight jeans, some kind of message that’s gotten fucked up in translation. “Yoongi—”

“Tell him,” he says, expression shuttered and serious.

“You wanna think about this for more than ten seconds? You haven’t talked to him since the last time you guys hooked up and you want me to go tell him you… what? That you want to have some weird cuck threesome with him?”

That’s exactly what you told him.

(Because you know Yoongi, and you also know Taehyung. Your dig at him to Namjoon was very much based in truth, and with how fucked up the dynamics of your friend group are, it hadn’t taken much more than sending Yoongi out into the cold to order a taxi, swaying your hips a little, re-glossing your lips, and disposing of the girl with the bubblegum pink hair. No one had batted an eye.

“I’m going home to fuck my boyfriend,” you said, leaning into Taehyung’s space. He was draped on the couch again, legs spread in a way that was frankly obscene. “Would you like to join us?”

“That depends, angel. How do you fuck him?” he asked, spreading his legs wider.

You stepped closer. Cupped his cheek, dug your nails into his skin a little, and said, “Better than you ever did,” all condescension.

Taehyung had just laughed. Pressed his tongue into the fat of his cheek. “I guess we’ll see about that.”)

And now you’re here, Taehyung sprawled on the bed beneath you. You can see why a sight like this would have Yoongi fucked up as long as he has been: Taehyung’s golden skin contrasting against the crisp white of the sheets, dark hair fanning against the pillows, curls falling into his eyes, chest heaving. Each time he throws his head back you’re torn between sinking your teeth into the column of his throat and wrapping your hands around it. It’s easy to ruin him when he looks like this; easy to give Yoongi what he wants.

“What should I do with you?” you think out loud, and Taehyung’s responding whimper draws a laugh out of you. “Yoongi wants to watch me fuck you,” you continue, hands teasing toward the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. You pinch, slap away the sting. “Would you like that?”

Taehyung’s cock—long and thick, still glistening with spit from when you sucked him off—twitches at the thought. “Y-yeah, fuck, want that,” he answers, hands moving to fist the sheets. He’s been so good. Has done exactly as you said. “Wan’ you to fuck me.”

“Should I fuck you the way you used to fuck your hyung?” Both Taehyung and Yoongi moan at the same time, and it’s so stupid, you think, this game they’ve been playing. Cat and mouse, as if the conclusion hasn’t been inevitable this whole time. “Use your words, Taehyung.”

“Yeah,” he says again, Adam’s apple bobbing heavily in his throat. “Y-yeah, like that.”

You hum, reach behind you for the bottle of lube. Yoongi mutters a quiet shit from the other side of the room and you glance over. Mouth hung open, lips wet; jeans pushed halfway down his thighs, the outline of his cock visible through his briefs, hand squeezing at the base. Cheating a little, but still not touching himself the way you know he wants to. He’ll be the first to cry, at this rate.

Eyes back on Taehyung. You wonder if he’d normally preen, put on a show. You wonder if he did that with Yoongi, some whole thing. “He’s told me about it, you know,” you say, clicking the lube open. Sounds more like a gunshot in the small space of your bedroom, where the only other sounds are labored breathing and the city outside. “Told me all about how you used to split him open with that big cock.” You tip the bottle sideways, let the lube dribble out and over Taehyung’s balls. He hisses at the cold, mutters a swear. “Told me he’d struggle to take it sometimes.”

“You two are—fuck.” Whatever Taehyung was going to say is cut off as your finger follows the lube, trails down to his hole. You circle it there, make sure it’s wet, press a little just to watch his hips jerk. “You two are fu-fucking weird.”

“Mm, maybe,” you concede, “but you should see how hard he comes when he’s thinking about you.”

You gather more lube on your finger, then, and press it inside. Just to the first knuckle, just enough to make Taehyung whine. “I guess you already know that, though,” you continue. Pour a little more lube on Taehyung’s skin. Pull your finger out enough to slicken it, push it back in a little further. “Was it good for you?”

His moan is broken and low, deep and heady. A sound that makes the world feel like it’s tilting; a sound that makes you want to chase it. “Yeah,” Taehyung answers, and it could be a response or a declaration when it’s followed by, “so fucking good.”

“Yoongi is good, isn’t he? He listens so well.” With your free hand, you grab Taehyung’s face roughly, turn his head in the direction of where Yoongi’s sitting. “Look at him,” you instruct. He already looks fucked-out. Cheeks flushed, breathing hard, knuckles white where he’s gripping onto the arm of the chair. “Look at how good he’s being, not even touching himself.”

And Taehyung… Taehyung almost looks ashamed. Won’t meet Yoongi’s gaze, now that they’re so close, now that it’s real, and this won’t do, will it, so you dig your nails in a little harder, drag them down his cheek, tell him again to look at his hyung. Then—

For the first time all night, their eyes meet at the same time.

Yoongi’s whimper is loud. The loudest you’ve ever heard him outside of actual sex. You work in a second finger alongside the first, build up a steady rhythm, and Taehyung isn’t faring much better. Little by little he opens up for you and you’re thankful for the way he sucks you in, adjusts. It’s getting harder to ignore the heat between your own legs, watching two beautiful men fall apart in vastly different ways, even though you want to drag this out, want to make Taehyung cry and give Yoongi exactly what he wanted.

And, god, Taehyung is so fucking pretty.

You tell him as much, and his smile is greasy, looks even more lewd when you crook your fingers and his eyes roll back. He’s still tight around you when he asks for a third so you shake your head, tell him no, tell him he’s greedy, and you think people must not make him beg much, the way he’s pouting. Taehyung has a face that gets him whatever he wants and a cock to match, and you’d understood it before, why Yoongi couldn’t really let it go, but it’s different when it’s right in front of you, making a mess of your sheets.

“I must be going soft on you,” you tell him, working in another finger the next time he asks. “Yoongi wanted me to make you cry and here I am, giving you whatever you want. Maybe I should let him decide what you get.”

Taehyung shoots a hand out, grabs at your forearm. “Don’t,” he says, voice hoarse, bordering on pleading. “Please. He’s still mad at me, won’ give me anything.”

A huff of breath escapes you. “He doesn’t look very mad to me. Looks like he could probably come on command if you told him to.” It’s not an exaggeration, not really; Yoongi is gone, looks like a stiff wind could have him spilling all over himself. “But maybe that’s what you deserve.”

You nail Taehyung’s prostate the next time you crook your fingers and he sobs. You do it again, then a third time. Precome oozes out of his cock, deepens the pool on his belly. You keep it up until tears pool on his waterline, until he’s reaching for you again, begging you to stop, words cracking as he tells you desperately that he’s going to come. “Angel, fuck, please, I’m gonna—”

“No, you’re not,” you tell him, all authority. “You’re not going to come, are you, because I haven’t told you to. Yoongi hasn’t told you to.”

The first frustrated tear streaks down Taehyung’s cheek. “Oh my fucking god,” he chokes out, forcing his hips flat to the bed, tries to force you to stop moving. But your rhythm is steady, confident, three fingers working with the space he’s left you, and it isn’t until you watch his balls tighten that they slow. Taehyung’s sweat-slick, looks even more golden under the amber lamplight, and it’s dizzying, the way the color shifts as his chest heaves with his ragged breaths.

There’s only enough time for you to slip your fingers out, grab the lube, slick up the strap-on that’s fastened around your hips, before you’re pressing the head against Taehyung’s hole, still dripping wet. “It’s so big,” you muse, grinning wickedly at the man beneath you, “I don’t know if it’s going to fit. What do you think, Yoongi? Is this how you used to feel?”

When you look over this time, Yoongi has his cock out, briefs tucked beneath his balls, stroking fast. Clicking your tongue, he looks up through half-lidded eyes, hand stilling immediately. His nod is almost imperceptible, too disoriented to answer, and you’ll give him this one. Won’t push it. What you will push, though—

“Shit.”

You’re not sure if it comes from Yoongi or Taehyung. It might’ve even come from you, because you’re transfixed, can’t tear your eyes away from the sight of your stupid flesh-colored dildo disappearing into Taehyung’s body. Fucking greedy, you think, mostly at yourself, because if this sight is good you can only imagine what you’d see if you were watching his face. Brows furrowed, mouth pinched. A look not far off from that night in the club, the determination on his face as he fucked that girl with his fingers, uncaring who heard or saw.

But this is your show. Yoongi’s fantasy. Whatever girls—people—Taehyung has fucked in seedy clubs across Seoul are of little importance here. All that matters is the steady push of your hips, the slow roll once you’re fully buried, the pleasure that jolts through you when you’re able to grind a little against the toy, the way Taehyung thrashes against the sheets, incoherent as he babbles, stuck between more and too much.

“Okay?” you ask, hands skimming along his warm skin. Goosebumps trail in their wake, and you settle them on his thighs. Press them up and to the side as he nods, giving yourself more space, and Taehyung’s moan is loud, unabashed. His cock lies neglected against his stomach, begging you to reach out and grab it, stroke him, make him come too fast so you have another bruise to press on, some way to embarrass him.

But this is your show, Yoongi’s fantasy, and you don’t have to look because you can hear how close your boyfriend is to getting himself off. Can hear the way his breath hitches, can hear when his rhythm changes. Quicker, now. More insistent. If Taehyung looked over at him, it’d be all over, and you almost tell him to do that, too.

“Stop touching yourself,” you say to Yoongi. A second time when he disregards the first, too far gone, too close. “Yoongi.” He whines but he listens, shoves his fingers in his mouth to stem the urge, and Taehyung watches it all.

You’re still thrusting, thighs burning, sticky where they meet Taehyung’s, and it won’t be your lengthiest performance, that’s for sure. So you call Yoongi’s name again, beckon him over, and he hesitates, looks so unsure. But it’s so stupid, the way he and Taehyung dance around one another—and you know, you know Taehyung wouldn’t be shaking like this if it were just you, if Yoongi wasn’t in his head, wasn’t watching—so you’re insistent. “Come here,” you tell him, and you make sure your voice is spun sugar when you say it.

Yoongi listens. Stumbles over on unsteady legs, knees nearly buckling when he gets close enough to also watch the way the strap-on fucks into Taehyung’s hole, the way it stretches obscenely to accommodate it. “Baby.” He threads his hands into your hair and kisses you hard and messy. Taehyung moans beneath you so you know he’s watching, and you will your body to move faster, fuck him harder.

When Yoongi pulls back, it’s obvious. The longing in his eyes. “Tell him,” you say, and he looks caught-out, would almost look angry if he were capable of it. “This is your fantasy, isn’t it? So tell him.”

“I—” He looks down at Taehyung again, meets his gaze again, and he must see something there you can’t, because all the hesitation is gone when he says, “I want to kiss you.”

And you know what it means.

Because that had been the rule between the two of them. No staying the night, no kissing. You know what it means for Yoongi to ask for that, what it’d mean if Taehyung allowed it, and it nearly cracks your heart in half that it’s the only thing he’s willing to ask for when his wants are endless when it comes to Taehyung.

“Oh my god,” Taehyung moans. “Fuck, hyung, yeah—yeah, c’mere, kiss me, please, fuck.”

Yoongi looks like he’s been punched in the gut. Looks overwhelmed, given this kind of permission, so he goes about it all wrong. Starts to kneel at the side of the bed before you tsk and grab him by his own hair. “Do it right,” you instruct.

He moans. Aborts whatever he was about to do and climbs over Taehyung on the bed, straddles him, fitting in between both of you perfectly, close enough for his cock to slot against Taehyung’s. They both moan, and their game had been so fucking stupid it sends a lick of anger through you. Yoongi ruts his hips once, twice, and then he’s leaning down and cupping Taehyung’s face and pressing his lips—still wet from you, still wearing your spit—to Taehyung’s.

And Taehyung comes immediately, nearly untouched. Spills all over himself with a loud, broken sob.

“Holy shit,” you say, hips slowing until they’re still. “Holy shit, that was fucking hot, what the fuck.”

Taehyung trembles in the comedown and Yoongi presses in closer, kisses him through it. Can’t seem to stop now that he’s allowed. He’s still rutting, has Taehyung teetering on oversensitivity, so you grab Yoongi’s hips to slow him. “Careful, baby,” you say softly into his ear. Press a kiss to the nape of his neck. Give him a minute to back away from the ledge again and get himself under control, let Taehyung catch his breath. “Are you okay, Taehyung?” you ask, hands once again touching any of his skin you can find. You knead at the muscles in his calves.

There’s some garbled response. Something you think is supposed to sound like an affirmation. “Words, please.”

“Y-yeah,” comes his response.

“Okay. I’m gonna go grab something to clean you up, all right?” You press another kiss to Yoongi’s shoulder, turn your attention to him. “Then we’ll finally give you what you want, yeah? Finally let you come.” A shiver runs up his spine and he nods weakly. “Can you prep yourself while I’m gone?” Another shaky nod. “Good boy. Gonna pull out now, Tae.”

You do so slowly. Taehyung hisses, sucks in a breath through his teeth. Hisses again when you replace the toy with your thumb, try to ease the discomfort of being so suddenly empty. With another kiss pressed to Yoongi’s shoulder, you mumble an I love you into his hair, and then you’re gone.

There’s always been something about the way Yoongi touches himself.

Like the goal is more than simply getting off. Like there’s reverence in it, something beyond purpose. Yoongi touches himself the way other people drop to their knees at church and pray.

Sometimes it’s long and drawn out. Sometimes his hands skirt over every inch of his own skin before he finally brings them to his cock. Sometimes he rests on his haunches in the middle of the bed and angles himself toward the mirror and watches, his cheeks aflame the entire time because he’s embarrassed to see himself like that, three of his own fingers fucking himself, but the embarrassment almost feels just as good. Sometimes he has you beneath him, raining down praise as his fist works the length of his cock.

Sometimes he does it entirely wrong, like now.

Two pale, lube-slick fingers work in and out of his hole. His own, then, and not Taehyung’s. Just like you’d asked. You’re a little surprised, thought maybe Yoongi might panic and retreat with you gone, but they’re both where you’d left them. Taehyung’s talking all the while, saying god knows what in that deep timbre, and it’s straight up pornographic the way his large hands rest on the cheeks of Yoongi’s ass, pull them apart.

The damp cloth in your hand feels useless. Is useless, you think, because Yoongi had told you something, once, deep in the throes of another cerebral fantasy—

“I can’t believe I have to keep telling you this,” you say, and everything immediately goes still at the sound of your voice, “but do it right, Yoongi.”

Taehyung lifts his head, stares at you skeptically. Probably mirroring the look on Yoongi’s face that you aren’t privy to with his back to you. “We’ve talked about this,” you continue, stalking closer. All eyes on you as you drop the cloth to the floor. “Are you clean?” you ask Taehyung, and he nods, expression still dubious.

And then you’re reaching between both of them, swiping your fingers through the mess of cum on Taehyung’s stomach, and he understands immediately. “Are you gon—fuuuck. Fucking christ.” The first swipe goes to Yoongi’s mouth, and there’s no hesitation as he sucks your fingers clean. Your free hand finds Yoongi’s, the one he’s working himself open with, and pulls it away. Replaces it with your own, your two longest fingers covered in the second swipe of Taehyung’s cum, and you fuck them in and out faster than Yoongi had been.

“Filthy,” Taehyung chokes out, clearly overwhelmed; another groan when Yoongi starts sucking at his neck, biting, claiming.

It’s primal, the way Taehyung reacts, the way Yoongi embeds himself under his skin, tries desperately to make a home there. Something permanent this time; or, at least, a home that won’t burn down like the last one. Won’t be reduced to a smoking heap of bitter ash. And you wonder, as you watch the way these two beautiful men fit together, if Taehyung will be holding the match or the key this time.

You press slow, open-mouthed kisses along the knots in Yoongi’s spine. Drizzle more lube on your fingers, work him open more. Whisper I know, baby, I know when he gets impatient and a little too demanding. Swap the condom on the strap-on and slick it up, just like last time, and then you’re pressing into Yoongi instead of Taehyung, the way you’ve done so many times before.

Everything is familiar and different: the drag, the pull, the noises spilling out of Yoongi’s mouth. Those staccato whines varied in pitch, sometimes drawn out and sometimes punched and short. This is what you know. This is your home, and you think, as Taehyung looks at Yoongi, so fucking endeared, as he gently cups his face, as he says—

“Hyung, you look so pretty. You’re doing so well, hyung, fuck, I didn’t think I’d ever see you like this again.”

—you think your house might look nice with an addition. An extra space carved out only for Taehyung. A room where Yoongi can exist in endless adoration.

“Make yourself useful, Kim Taehyung.”

Because Taehyung listens. Because Taehyung is good in all the ways that Yoongi is good, and he doesn’t have to be told twice when the order deals in Yoongi’s pleasure. So all of you adjust until Yoongi’s on his hands and knees, gripping tightly onto the headboard, and Taehyung shuffles down the bed until he can get his mouth on Yoongi’s cock.

“Fuck, yeah, just like that,” you say, and Taehyung moans at the praise, the vibrations making Yoongi gasp and jerk.

You know when you hit his prostate, too; know this is going to be over soon from the way he buries his face in the crook of his elbow and screams. You know it from the way he starts to shake. From the unintelligible filth that pours from his mouth as Taehyung swallows him all the way down. From the way he stutters out a, ba-baby, wha’bout you, gonna come like this, and you pet his hair, voice soft again when you say, this is for you, Yoongi, you can come, I know it’s so much.

There’s a final husky, drawn-out moan, and then there’s quiet.

Lucidity returns slowly.

The heat kicks on. A police siren wails in the distance, seven floors below you. You re-wet your cloth and do your best to clean the dried cum from Taehyung’s skin, your smile fond as he whines at the cold, tries to squirm away. Yoongi doesn’t move an inch, just collapses face-first onto the mattress and lets everyone fuss over him. Starts snoring a few minutes later, after you’ve pulled the duvet up to his ears and he’s tucked in and warm.

You move to the dresser. Pull out two t-shirts—oversized on you, tight in the shoulders on Taehyung—and clean underwear. And then you pause, because Taehyung’s already plucking his own clothes off the floor, already has his fucking socks and briefs on, and it’s… it doesn’t feel right, is the thing. Doesn’t feel like he should be leaving. Not tonight, maybe ever.

“Where are you going?” you ask, and you do a good job of keeping the hurt out, at sounding normal.

Taehyung doesn’t get it. Looks at you like you’re a little stupid and a lot crazy, because he looks at you, then at the world outside the window, and finally at Yoongi before answering. “I—leaving?”

“Why?”

Taehyung looks at you like you’re a lot stupid this time. “I don’t…” Pauses. Tries to sink into the floor to no avail. “Look, I think maybe this was a mistake? Hyung and I—I don’t think this is what he wants.”

“And how do you know what he wants?”

“Because we’re here,” he answers, anger seeping in. “Because I’m standing in your apartment. His girlfriend, and—”

You sigh. “If you want to leave, I’m not going to stop you, but I think it’d really hurt him if you left.” You leave off the again. It’s not your trauma to dredge up. Yoongi wouldn’t want you to, and that’s reason enough. “I would like it if you stayed, if that means anything.”

“The two of you are fucking weird,” he says again, but he looks less torn. Looks less like he would plow you over to get to the door, and it’s… progress. It’s good. You can work with a halfway thing. “Hyung would really—you think he wants me here?”

It’s spoken about in the way a broken thing always is: delicately, hesitantly, like Taehyung’s afraid of the answer, afraid to find out the results of this stupid game of his own design. “He does. It’s not my place to say much more than that, but I think the two of you are overdue for a conversation, if nothing else.”

Taehyung nods. Starts looking less and less like he’s out of place; starts looking like object permanence, takes a corporeal form within the four walls of your bedroom. “There’s space here for you,” you say, with the amount of care words like these require, “if you want it.”

“What does that mean?”

“Whatever you want it to. Nothing has to be decided right now, but I know Yoongi. You know him, too. I just don’t want to see him hurt again.”

Taehyung nods again. Peels his socks off. “You’re sure?” he asks, and when you nod, he climbs back into bed, seems to somehow know which side of the bed is Yoongi’s, two magnets drawn together. Something inevitable.

You breathe out a sigh. Finally slip the t-shirt and underwear on. Flick the lamp off and let yourself have a minute to enjoy the calm, Yoongi’s body heat next to you, still snoring softly between you and Taehyung. And then, because you can’t resist—

“You two are really fucking stupid, you know that?”

You hear Taehyung swallow. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, sounding the part of a scolded child, and as much as you try not to, you’re smiling again, fond and endeared, into the dark. “I know.”

“Okay. Go to sleep, Tae. I expect a very nice thank you gift in the morning.”

It doesn’t happen in the morning. Not really.

It happens sometime in the middle of the night. The light streaming in through the sheer curtains gives away nothing more than silver-amber light, the moon and the city. Could be minutes since you fell asleep, could be hours; all you know is Yoongi’s at your back, arm slung possessively over your middle, and his heat is stifling.

“Yoongi,” you hiss, because it’s not just his heat. He’s hard again, cock pressing against the swell of your ass just like it was in the club, and you feel him smile against your neck when he realizes you’re awake. Feel him rock his hips, just a little.

He nips at your lobe, your jaw. “Hi, baby,” he says, like this is just another morning. Like he’s about to present your favorite mug to you, coffee fixed exactly how you like it. “Why didn’ you wake me up?”

“For what?” you breathe out, voice already wavering. All Yoongi has done is skim his warm hands under your oversized t-shirt, swirl a finger around your navel.

Yoongi tuts. Feels weird to be on this side of it, the illusion of condescension. “To fuck you. Make you come. You didn’t earlier.”

“I meant what I said—”

“I know you did,” Yoongi interjects, “but I don’t find that to be a very acceptable excuse.”

You roll your eyes, no heat in it, but then Yoongi’s hand moves to the hem of your underwear and slips inside. Your hips jerk when he moves two fingers lightly over your clit, jerk again when he finds you already wet and groans deep and husky into your ear. And it’s not loud, but it’s loud for this room at whatever-the-fuck time it is. “Gotta be quiet,” you whisper to him, and he laughs, thinks you’re joking. “I’m serious,” you say, and you want to sound authoritative but it comes out as a whine when he sinks those fingers into your cunt.

“Why would I need to be quiet?” he asks. Crooks them as best he can from this weird angle, you on your side with your back pressed to him, Yoongi halfway on top of you. “Shouldn’t I be loud?” He hits a spot that whites your vision. “Shouldn’t everyone in this fucking place hear it?”

Usually you wouldn’t care. Your apartment building has heard worse, including whatever debauchery the three of you had gotten up to mere hours ago, but—“Taehyung’s asleep.”

Yoongi startles, goes still. “What?”

“What.”

“What d’you mean Taehyung’s asl…” You feel him turn. Feel him realize, for the first time, that there is a very-asleep Taehyung on his other side, and you want to ask how he hadn’t noticed before, want to say didn’t you realize how cramped this bed is, it’s not big enough for three people, we’ll have to get a new one, but. Yoongi hadn’t expected him to stay, hadn’t expected it to even be an option, so of course it would’ve been a blind spot.

Your heart cracks in half again.

“What’d you say to him?” he asks. Not accusing, almost awed, like you knew a code, the secret passcode to getting Taehyung to stay that Yoongi hadn’t had before.

You reach back, find Yoongi’s hair. Scratch gently at his scalp. “Just that I thought you’d like it if he stayed. That’s it, nothing else. I wouldn’t.”

“I know, I wasn’t…” He sucks in a deep breath, holds it, lets it go. He’s okay. “This is okay with you?”

A laugh spills out of you. “You’re asking me that now? I was nearly fist-deep in his ass a few hours ago but him sleeping in our bed is crossing some kind of line?”

“Sex can be different,” Yoongi argues, “and it’s me, you know, like it’s my hangup, not yours—”

“I want you to be happy,” you answer honestly. “Whatever that looks like. I told him there’s room for him here if he wants it, but they’re not my knots to untangle. If he wants to stick around, if you two can get your shit together… we’ll figure it out. It only needs to make sense to us.”

Silence. Then—“I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my fucking life,” Yoongi groans. “Jesus Christ.”

“I should’ve known hyung was the type to get a boner from open and honest communication.”

Yoongi startles again at the low rasp of Taehyung’s voice. “And that’s exactly why I said I fuck him better than you,” you fire at him, deadpan. He laughs. You don’t have to look at Yoongi to know how red he’s turned.

“You said that to him?” he chokes out, all mortified disbelief, at the same time Taehyung says, “Maybe you’ve got a point, angel.”

The mattress sinks under Taehyung’s weight as he shuffles closer to the two of you. Must touch Yoongi somehow, because there’s a high-pitched whine from the back of his throat, so loud in your ear, has heat coursing through you. “Finish what you started, hyung,” Taehyung says, and Yoongi’s nod is jerky, his hands uncoordinated under Taehyung’s watchful stare.

Yoongi moves over you fully, wastes no time before he’s working his fingers in and out at a steady rhythm, sucking at your skin. Taehyung groans quietly, doesn’t need to be told a goddamn thing; rids you of your shirt so Yoongi can mouth his way from your jaw to your neck, collarbones to chest, one nipple and then the next. Pleasure licks up your spine, outweighs how overwhelming it is to have Yoongi this geared-up, wound this tight; to have Taehyung’s hands roaming over every inch of skin his hyung doesn’t have his mouth on.

“Yoo-Yoongi,” you choke out, because this has really gone from zero to a hundred and he’s been pressing incessantly on your g-spot for too long to remain unaffected.

It’s building, building, building, and you’ve fully lost control of your hips, grinding against the heel of Yoongi’s palm like you’re desperate for it. (You are.) And Taehyung just laughs darkly, says, “Think she’s gonna come, hyung,” just to get under your skin.

“Mm, yeah. Might make a mess.” He slaps at your clit and that’s it, that’s what does it.

And Yoongi knows you, doesn’t he, because he knows how you like to get fucked. Knows to click his tongue at you, give you that disappointed look; knows to wipe your release on your thighs. Knows to barely let you catch your breath before he’s slipping on a condom and pushing inside of you.

After his fingers, the stretch from his cock feels dizzying. Feels on the edge of too much, and Taehyung’s commentary is doing fuck-all to help you come back to earth. Keeps saying shit like goddamn, hyung, yeah, fuck her like that. Maneuvers you so your back is pressed to his chest, now, your head on his shoulder, so Yoongi can slip his tongue into Taehyung’s mouth while he ruins you. It’s filthy, it’s so fucking filthy, and you think, selfishly, that a room won’t be big enough. You’d build Taehyung an entire goddamn house to keep it like this, to keep the three of you safe in this bubble.

“Imagine, hyung,” Taehyung starts, and you know what comes out of his mouth next is going to be nasty. Yoongi knows it, too, eyes starting to go glassy. A million constellations reflected as he looks at the two of you. “If we fucked her at the same time. Both of us in that tight pussy. Our cocks togeth—”

You’re not sure if the deafening moan comes from you or Yoongi. Either way, his hips falter, cadence reduced to stuttered thrusts as he tries desperately not to come just from Taehyung spewing more filth out of his devilish mouth. But you want to see it. Want to see what happens when he’s pushed to the brink of horny delirium, so you say—

“Do it.”

—and Yoongi has to stop altogether. Grips your hips so hard you know they’ll bruise, and you think, for a second, that he actually did come. Everything is quiet for a second, just more labored breathing, and then Yoongi picks his head up. Looks more fucked-out than you’ve ever seen him, even more than earlier, and looks straight at Taehyung.

“Put your fingers in her.”

Taehyung breathes harshly through his nose. Waits for you to nod, give him the okay, and then his hands leave your hair and skim down your body. They’re so warm, so large, cover so much skin that it truly feels like he’s everywhere, like it’s more than just him touching you. The closer he nears to your cunt, the more overpowering it is, the harder it is to breathe.

“Is this what you want, angel?” he asks, words warm on your skin as he presses them just below your ear. “You’re a greedy girl, getting hyung’s cock and my fingers.” He rubs circles into your clit, sends you spiraling. You’re dangerously close to a second orgasm (could be a third, could be a hundredth, considering Yoongi never let you come down from the first) and there’s a split-second right before he dips his fingers into your cunt, works them in alongside Yoongi’s cock, that you feel engulfed.

Everything is on fire.

You, most of all.

Taehyung sucks his fingers into his mouth, gets ‘em wet, works in slowly. Just his middle finger at first, and Yoongi falters again, moans out an oh fuuuck that betrays exactly how far gone he is. And you aren’t far behind, the stretch from both of them unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. You can’t imagine how it’d feel if it was more than just Taehyung’s fingers, except you can, and Taehyung notices when the thought has you clenching, has you a little wetter, because he laughs at you, tells Yoongi like he can’t tell on his own. Like your boyfriend is a little dumb, like he’s never fucked you before, and that does something to both of you.

One finger turns into two. Yoongi’s a fucking mess, absolutely gone of the feel of them inside you, against his cock, can’t stop moaning. The tight fit has Taehyung’s fingers pressed snug against your g-spot, exactly how Yoongi’s had been, and it’s too much. Too much.

“I’m, fuck—I’m gonna—”

When you come it feels like the end of the world. It feels like rapture. It feels like every atom in your body has been rearranged, like the gods themselves are rewarding you specifically with the sound of Yoongi following right behind you, moaning low and ragged, spilling into the condom.

In the comedown, he kisses you—soft, tender, with every iota of love and affection contained in him. “I love you,” he says. Presses another kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You okay?”

“Not sure,” you answer honestly. “Give me three to five business days to decide.”

Yoongi’s smile is shy, almost embarrassed. More gums than anything else. Behind you, the rumble of Taehyung’s laughter against your back, rattling your ribs. Rattling your heart, maybe, lodged safely between them.

It expands, makes more room—the one for Taehyung, that house—and Yoongi’s lips find Taehyung’s next and you know it’ll be okay. These two stupid boys, they’ll figure it out, put a cease fire to their foolish game.

Yeah, something inevitable.

as always, thank you for reading! my inbox is always open if you’d like to leave feedback. i’d love to hear your thoughts! ❤

[unknownperson246]

could you do a Steven one were Steven feels like you don't love him because your gone all the time.lots of Steven doing puppy eyes smut please

. Thankyou

Heyyyy sorry this fic is late but I hope you do like it(I’m sorry if it’s ass) also sorry there is not enough puppy dog eyes I tried to put as many as I could depending on the story line!.

I’ll make up for it

words: 1,162

Warnings: Smut *p in v* *soft love making* *love bites* *fingering* *trying to act tough*

Y/N is nowhere to be seen in Steven's sight. Steven thinks she is mad at him.

”Hey doll I just wanted to ask if you will be home tonight maybe we can have some fun?" Steven says dolorously on the voicemail he sent her.

He puts the phone down and grabs his bottle of Jack Daniels. It was half vacant. He swigs his bottle of Jack Daniel's every so often. Steven is sad and lonely sitting on his couch on a Wednesday night. Steven's eyes slowly start to droop and he is falling asleep. You come home a little bit after midnight all exhausted and stressed. The door swings open as you enter all frustrated. Steven briskly jolts awake from his light slumber.

 “Hey Y/N how are you?!” Steven says with his cheerful expression while lying on the couch.

You retort, "Steven. Can you please not do this right now? I am very upset and tired and I have a long ass day of continuous work tomorrow. Please just leave me alone Steven!"

Steven says in a distressed tone with his puppy eyes "Hey, what's wrong babe? Are you feeling okay?"

“Am I feeling okay?" No Steven I am not. I just told you I feel like shit and I have no energy to do anything. Leave me alone!” You speak bluntly and harshly. 

“Fine,” Steven announces in a sorrowful tone giving you sad puppy eyes.

You walk into the bathroom in your guy’s bedroom and announce, "I'm going to bed soon!" 

“Okay,” Steven yells from his sluggish position on the couch.

Steven wants to get ready for bed. He takes a stroll to your guy’s bedroom and he rummages around the room locating his gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt. He quickly slides into his gray sweatpants and his black t-shirt. He slips into bed and he pulls the covers over himself. You walk out of the bathroom in your silky light blue sleeping clothes and quickly get into the bed.

"Good night, Steven," you mumble as you drift off to sleep.

 Both of you are now fast asleep. It is now morning. You both woke up refreshed and at ease. You realized that you were mean to Steven last night. This is the Steven who never says anything when you are upset, takes care of you and is too sweet and cuddly.

”Stevie, I'm very sorry for what I did last night. I was rude and took my stress out on you. I never should have done that." You say this in an apologetic tone.

”Stevie, I know that I have never been home but that's only because I work my ass off so today I'll make up for it.” You voice your apology to him.

“Y/N I'm going to be honest I thought you did not love me because you were always out. I thought you were always avoiding me” Steven voices his opinion.

“No, I do care and love you, Steven. I'll show you tonight."

The night is coming closer. Steven begs to have sex earlier in the day “Pls pls pls y/n why can't we do it right now?” and he gives you puppy eyes to help convince you to let him fuck you.

”Steven we will do it tonight I promise. Plus if we do it tonight I have a surprise for you."

Steven is now more aroused. The night that felt like ages had finally come. You undress in front of Steven giving him a peek at your gorgeous body that soothes him. Something he has not seen in a long time since you got busy. You are now fully naked standing in front of him with your tits and ass hanging out.

”This is your surprise Steven this ass and these tits are all yours,” you say in a delighted manner.

He touches your soft skin, which feels like satin against his hands. He grabs your hips and his lips connect to your neck. He starts nipping at your neck he leaves a trail of love bites going down till he reaches your V-line. He rushes to remove his pants. Steven whispers sweet and soft things into your ear that leave you both feeling hard. 

He wants to punish you in a way that is pleasurable so you can see what you have been missing for a long time.

Before he sticks his cock inside of your wet pussy he slowly sticks three fingers inside of you.

You let out a small utter ”Stevie”

 He keeps fingering you until you practically whine for him to enter you with his hard cock.

“Stevie, can we please do it now?” You whine.

“This is what you get for making me wait till now,” he says childishly. 

He slowly begins the process of making you want him more.

 “Hey darling you know I love it when you show me your body you're all for me aren’t you?” You start to moan lightly just from his words to you

He slowly gives up on the tough act and just wants to be pleased and he wants to please you.

You feel his erection rubbing against your belly.

He leans you gently to a wall and puts his cock at your entrance and starts to slide his hard cock inside of your warm walls. It is not harsh but it's just the way you like it. Soft sex with sweet and gentle words but it is pleasurable enough for both of you. He thrusts and he hits your soft spot over and over with each thrust. You can’t bear it anymore. You are about to orgasm. The thought of his hard cock being inside of you and giving you pleasure is making him even more hard he grunts as he feels he is about to cum. You moan and your nails dig into Stevens's back.

”Oh Steven, my sweet Steven I love you” you moan.

Steven now knows that you love him from moaning his name so lightly and softly while he is giving you a mark of his love. Steven finishes and he groans as he takes his last thrusts inside of you.

Steven grunts the words "Cum for me my baby let's do it together”. You let out a small “I'm almost there Steven I'm almost there.” 

Steven asks “Should I withdraw or spill inside?” 

“Inside, Stevie, inside” you could barely speak

Your wet pussy tightens around his cock and you spill your juice around his cock and Steven spills his milk on your tight walls. After you guys have had your fun he cleans you up and helps put your light blue silky nightgown on. You both lay in bed.

”That was amazing Steven. Your amazing Steven." “I love you, babe,” you say tenderly.

”I love you too Y/N,” Steven says quietly and you both are sound asleep now.

[secretswiftymarvelfan]

Burnin' On - Firefighter!Chris x Reader (2 am)

A/N: Okay it was no secret that I absolutely love these two and I couldn't stop writing them! So here's the extensions series! There's no real over-arching plot, just interconnected one-shots as and when I think of them! This will contain spoilers to the original series so go check that out of you haven't already

Summary: After a very long day you return home surprised to find Chris had waited for you

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Fluff!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​​

Meet the Characters!

Burnin' Up Masterlist / Series Masterlist / Masterlist

2 am

Your eyelids felt heavy as you finally pulled up outside the house. You let out a long sigh as you dragged your hands down your face before glancing at the time. 

It was well past 2 am.

Glancing back up at the house you could see no lights were on. You had texted Chris the code to tell him it was going to be a late one so he no doubt had gone to bed hours ago. There was nothing you wanted more than to climb into bed and snuggle up next to him, if Dodger had left you any space that is. 

Even though you were exhausted you remained sat in your car for another couple of minutes just gathering the energy to move. It had been an exhausting day, not just physically but emotionally too.

Eventually, you did manage to bring yourself to climb out of the car and head inside. You made sure you were as quiet as possible as you closed the door, took off your shoes and jacket. You didn’t want to accidentally wake Chris. 

Even though you didn’t have much of an appetite you knew you needed to have something to eat. The last proper meal you had was lunch and that was over twelve hours ago. You also knew you’d just wake up hungry again in a couple hours if you didn’t and you really wanted to sleep for hours after today.

Walking into the living room you flicked on the light only to be startled by Chris startling awake from his spot on the couch. You clutched your chest as you tried to get your breathing back under control.

“Chris what the hell? You scared the shit out of me!” You complained as your heart rate finally returned to normal.

“Sorry,” he said rubbing the sleep from his eyes “I didn’t mean to scare you, or fall asleep, I was trying to stay awake until you got home” he explained.

“Why? I texted to say I’d be home late so you didn’t need to stay up” you told him, pulling out your phone to double-check you’d actually sent the code.

“I know” Chris said pushing himself up from the couch and walking over to you “I also knew tonight was gonna be a hard night and I didn’t like the idea of you getting home and being alone” he explained placing his hands on your arms.

You instantly softened hearing his reason, stepping into his embrace, burying your head in his chest as you let out a shaky breath. Chris instantly wrapped his arm around you pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asked softly, rubbing your soothingly.

“Not yet, I think I’m still processing it all, I just wanna sleep but I should eat first” you sighed pulling away enough to look up at him.

“Okay, I saved you a plate so I’ll go warm it up, make yourself comfortable” Chris smiled softly, nodding to the couch. 

“Not too comfortable otherwise I’ll be asleep before you even get into the kitchen” you pointed out. 

Chris lets out a small snort of laughter “Okay make yourself uncomfortable” he chuckled.

You give him a tired smile as you sit down on the couch, sitting on the edge as you knew that if you sat too far back sleep would be too inviting. Thankfully it wasn’t long until Chris returned with a plateful of food for you, and a smaller plate for himself. 

The two of you sat in comfortable silence as you ate. Once you were finished you set your plate down on the coffee table and let out a long sigh.

“We found the body,” you told Chris.

You heard him let out a long sigh as he put his hand on the small of your back. He didn’t say anything though, he knew to just give you time to talk it all through.

“We still have to confirm it's her because there was a lot of decay but she was in the exact spot he said she was” You continued rubbing your hand over your forehead “I just… I feel so sorry for the families…. Both of them… one lost their daughter and the other has just found out their son isn’t who they thought he was” 

Chris let out another sigh as he shifted closer to you, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you closer into his side. He knew exactly where your mind was going, it hadn’t been that long since you found out your own father wasn’t who you thought he was.

You let out a shuddering sigh as you wiped away the stray tears that fell “Sorry” you muttered.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Chris said shaking his head “You have nothing to apologise for”

“I shouldn’t be thinking of him though” you pointed out looking up at him.

“It's okay, it’s natural and you always will it’ll just be easier to move on” Chris reassured you “And I know it sucks and it hurts but it means you understand what they’re going through and feeling and you’ll be able to provide them the correct support”

You sighed nodding your head “Yeah you’re right, thank you” you say looking up at him.

Chris gave you a soft smile “It’s nothing, now let's get you up to bed, you deserve it” he said as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I don’t think I have the energy to stand” you admitted making Chris chuckle.

“Don’t you worry about that” he said with a lopsided smile before he stood up, hooked his arms around you and lifted you into his arms.

You let out a squeak of surprise before quickly snuggling into his arms. You smiled up at him forever grateful that you had him in your life to look after you after tough shifts, providing you a safe space that you never had before. He hadn’t even made it all the way upstairs before you fell asleep in his arms.

Sharing is caring so please reblog if you enjoyed this and maybe even leave a comment to make my day!

This series has no schedule, please don’t ask when it will be updated!

Burnin' Up Masterlist / Series Masterlist / Masterlist

I don’t have a tag list but follow @secretswiftymarvelfanlibrary​ and turn on post notifications to stay up to date!

[emsgwenstan]

Personal or professional?

Chap 4| chap 5| chap 6.

Larissa Weems x fem(carpenter/joiner) named reader

Words: 3k

Warnings: smut, insecurity’s, aftermath of drunkenness, signs of anxiety- no self worth.

Note: mmmkay, so shit happens! Anyway feelings aren’t exactly admitted but Violet tells Larissa something important. No wonder I guess.

The early morning air seeped in through the stone walls and coated me in a thick layer of cold, waking up at sometime around 6am, I sat up slowly trying not to disturb Larissa. I was surprised at how solidly id seem to have slept even though it wasn’t for very long, i didn’t have nightmares and didn’t wake to any random pain my body decided It thought i should have either, the most surprising of all though was that i didn’t feel hung over. shuffling back i rested against the headboard and yawned so hard i might have dislocated my jaw and my eyes watered from how tired i am.

Just sitting staring out to space for a while trying to wake up, Larissa started tossing and turning frequently and it ripped me out of my trans like state, tilting my head to the side I watched as her breath would intake and exhale, pushing and pulling the hair that had fallen over her eyes, she lay facing me and I can’t help but shift down a little to prop my head in my hand and rest on my elbow. With a nimble yet ruined hand I tucked her hair away from her face and stared at her lovingly and for a while I stayed like that, all I want is for her to be comfortable and have a longer peaceful sleep.

After contemplating, I rose from the bed and retrieved my clothes from the arm chair while also finally taking in her decor, it was beautiful all the thick materials and trinkets, the large paintings and photographs that lined the walls, her aesthetic was a mix of deep rich colours with a lighter twist in some of the furnishing, all of it was utterly her, completely Larissa. Pacing quietly to the ensuite bathroom I looked at myself in the huge mirror and wiped the smudged mascara from under my eyes, in the reflection I saw she had a large claw foot bath and a walk in shower that was lined with different soaps, body washes and most of all hair products like, treatments with her toning shampoo and conditioner to keep her silver spun hair to perfection, it was so cute.

I was conflicted weather or not I should just keep on the pyjamas she lent me and wear them until I die or actually get changed, ultimately the latter was the chosen option. Exiting the bathroom I left the lended clothes in the designated Laundry hamper and made my way to the door leading back out into her office to retrieve my jumper and stoke the almost dead fire. My nerves were skyrocketing at the thought of the impending conversation that’s going to happen when she wakes up, I’m not going to cower and tip toe out of her home like a one night stand, not that we actually even went as far to have sex, but that’s besides the point. Suck it up Violet, deal with your own actions.

An hour and a half later Larissa woke alone in her crimson sheets, the sun fully risen and her dark curtains flowing the slightest bit from wintery breeze. Completely dazed at the sight she sat up and slid her feet into the flats she had beside her bed and stood grasping the satin tan coloured robe off the same arm chair as my clothes had rested on. Before making her way to the curtains, out the corner of her eye Larissa’s reflection from the wall mirror was what caught her attention, she internally berated herself with almost walking out looking the way she did, her little bedside clock read 7:46am and again she scolded herself for sleeping in. Quickly she shifted to something more presentable only her face and hair changed, her lips painted a blood red and eyes meticulously covered in natural looking eye shadow and mascara, her hair pulled into a neat low bun.

Drawing back the curtain, there sat on the balcony was me watching over the rail with my feet tucked under myself and a monotone expression washed over my face, Larissa didn’t hesitate to open the door and step outside. I knew she was there, of course, I could hear her, I sat in silence not really knowing what to say. It was a good minute of silence once she sat down opposite the small metal table. “How did you sleep?” Is what I came up with to break the quietness, even though I tried rehearsing what to say for the past hour and a half. “Well, and you?” She said almost if she had barbed wire wrapped around her neck preventing her from sounding sure. Ok so it’s like that. “Fine…” I began. “do you… uh- remember-.” I continued. “Yes.” She said hardly letting me finish. “Right…” I trailed. Another beat of silence. “Do you regret it?” She asked quietly. I paused really thinking about how to answer, I’m sure she did, regret it I mean- I don’t know… I’m kinda lost. “If you do then I suppose, but if not…” I started. “If not?” She asked actually looking at me, we had both avoided eye contact until this moment. “If not then I guess no, I wouldn’t regret it.”

Larissa relaxed into the chair and I was as stiff as a board, did she just basically say she wanted it to happen or am I reading into it too much? I looked back down the railing wondering why there were no students, it’s a Saturday, surely kids would be out and about. “I’m afraid I slept in to late to bid them all farewell, they all went home for the Christmas holidays.” She said as if she could read my mind. “And the staff?” I wondered. “Yes, them to, it’s just me.” Does she not have a family to go home to? Why would she still be here? I nodded at her statement as the cold wind started to pick up causing me to shiver, how she’s not dying of hypothermia because of her lack of layers I don’t know.

“I have to go soon, I need to go to one of the houses I’m renovating and polish a bench top.” I said tucking my hands into the pocket of my jumper. “Oh.” She said. Why does she look disappointed? I sat staring at her releasing that she is now in fact alone and will be for a while. It was always hard for Larissa at this time of year, no matter how much work she’d get done she still had to prepare and consolidate with others for the next year. I feel like saying could you possibly imagin spending all this time alone especially around Christmas, but I won’t because then I’d be a hypocrite.

“Would you like to come with me?” I asked not even registering what I asked until it was too late. “Oh I would want to be a bother.” She said. “You wouldn’t, no one’s going to be there, if your not to busy.” I said as if I was completely confident. “Sure, I suppose I can miss working for a day.” She said. Recounting back to the previous micro conversation I spoke again. “What time did they all leave? Surely we would have heard them.” Larissa quirked a brow. “I thought for someone who knows all about a house and buildings infer structure that you would know it’s not easy to hear through two and a half feet of stone.” She spoke with a hint of sass and a whole lot of tease.

I was taken a back at her new found tone. “Well then headmistress, do tell me what else you know about my job you seem oh so knowledgeable about it.” I quipped, sharing her mirthful voice. “Oh no I mustn’t continue, I might put you out of a job.” She smiled with her eye’s playfully glaring. “Oh shut up, don’t start something you can’t finish.” I said laughing, finally letting myself gradually come down from the nervous high. “You never know, I might know more than you think…” she said with a chesty giggle. “Fine, Larissa can you tell me what a Kimberly large is?” I spoke coming to a stand and towering over her sitting position. Nothing, I could see that all she could come up with was blank, nada, not a clue. “What in gods earth is that?” She asked after accepting defeat. I stepped away and walked back to the door, turning looking at her over my shoulder I said. “It’s a cutlery tray.” With the most innocent expression known to man. Well woman.

Larissa stood from the table with a smile plastered to her lips and headed back into the room as well. “Sorry for leaving the door open by the way, I overthought it because if I close it you wouldn’t know I was out there and if I open the curtains then you would wake up, but then I really didn’t think about how cold it is and I needed some air- so… sorry.” I said in a rushed voice. “Don’t worry about it vi.” She said in a sweet tone. “Ok well if I’m to come with you I’ll need to get changed.” She explained knowingly. “Right.” I turned on my heels and left the room to put on my boots and wait for her.

Stepping out into the room Larissa was in the most beautiful dress I’ve seen on her yet, even prettier than the one she wore to my house that time for dinner, it was just past the knee and was an adorable shade of pink that complimented her complexion, she had a matching coat that had fake white fur around the perimeter of the sleeve cuffs. I don’t even think of a snide remark about the fact we’re only going to someone’s house for me to work, I’m more worried about her getting it dirty and ruining the expensive fabric, but who cares I will always encourage her to look incredible, suitable for the conditions or not, if she’s happy I’m happy, I don’t think it’s physically possible for Larissa to not look good anyway.

“What? To much?” She asked wearily. “Absolutely not it’s stunning, just don’t get dirty now will you headmistress.” I said cheekily. Larissa rolled her eyes and adorned her gloves. Opening the door she looks back at her new desk again and smiles, we set off down stairs and made our way to the truck and drove down the nevermore driveway. “Are you hungry?” She asked. “Not really I don’t usually eat until lunchtime, but we can get you something.” I said. “No I’m ok, I just thought maybe you wanted something.” She said looking out of the passenger window. We sat in comfortable silence until we reached town, although I felt like I was slowly suffocating from my thoughts, terrible thoughts, horrible thoughts. I had to keep averting my side eyed gaze at her porcelain thighs, Larissa’s dress rode up and her coat fell to the sides of her gorgeous legs and my god. Keep it together.

Driving down a few back roads we arrived at the house, getting out I paced straight to the mailbox to get the spare key. Larissa followed behind and waited patiently for me to open the door, the house its self wasn’t overly wowing but it was quaint and homey, perfect for a younger family or older couple. “Ok wait here and I’ll go get my stuff.” I said exiting the house. Larissa took in the interior and thought it was sweet, charming in fact, she wandered through the empty halls watching her step on the drop sheets that lay on the floor, the walls were freshly painted with a light grey and the ceilings weren’t finished yet due to electrical issues with the lights, she walked into the first room she could find to take a moment to slow her rapidly beating heart, it turns out Larissa was quite flustered from the car ride too, and the morning in general.

“Larissa?” I yelled. I could hear her heals coming down the hall. “Hey, I got you these just be careful with your earrings.” I said holding out my pink pair of earmuffs. “Oh thank you, that’s thoughtful.” She said quietly as she slipped them on, her earrings did get caught and I tried to help her. “Here, let me help.” I practically launched myself towards her, I grasped one of the sides and tucked her ear in place trying my best not to hurt her. We were standing so close and my eyes wandered from the side of her head to her cheek and around to her lips, I slowly put down my hands and place them on her hips, I could feel her breath on my cheek. Kiss her, but remember Violet. Slowly I started to lean in, but as my eyes flicked up to see hers, they were already trained on me, in an instant I tense up and take a step back clearing my throat, now looking as red as a tomato.

I gave a shy smile and took in her appearance again. “You look cute.” I mimed, knowing how hard it is to hear with them on. Larissa also displayed a little smile with a light blush, she could hear her pulse in her ears clearly now and the butterflies in her stomach were going wild. I put on my spare pair of earmuffs and started the process of polishing the bench. Larissa watched in awe as it began to shine, but she wasn’t just looking at the material itself she also watch how my hands flexed around the machine and my shoulders moved in tandem with the actions. I could feel her eyes on me and I tried my best to not turn around.

Cutting the polisher off I spun on the spot and waved her over, I grabbed her forearm and pulled her to stand in front on me and place her hands on the machine so she could have a turn. What a stupid idea. My hands were on hers and I turned it on again continuing my ministrations, however the only thing I could think of was how her ass was pressing into my stomach and thighs, for a while everything was fine but when she turned and gave me her award winning smile and nose scrunch I just melted. Before either of us got hurt I turned the polisher of and took off my earmuffs placing them on the bench, Larissa did the same carefully talking them off her head, as I turned to face her again, Larissa looked at me for a moment then grabbed my face with both hands and kissed me, like really kissed me.

I was in shock but didn’t pull away- why would I? it was rough and urgent but fuck it was delicious, she was delicious. Larissa manoeuvred me to sit on top of the counter without breaking the kiss, I hopped up and fisted the sides of her dress and the plush skin that’s hidden beneath it, I felt her tongue lick at the the seem of my lips and with out hesitation I let her enter and explore my mouth. Her hands gently scratched at my scalp before she trailed them down the front of my jumper, her delicate fingers moving tantalisingly slow over my breasts as I grope her ass. Just as she went lower towards my stomach, I pulled back breathless with my eyes closed I, couldn’t see the look on her face as I did so.

Larissa stoped her movements and placed her palms on my thighs, she too was breathing quite heavily, the whole situation was so intense more so now that I pulled back, I didn’t want to but I can’t let her feel the parts of myself that I’m so ashamed of. Her thumbs stroke at my legs in a reassuring manner and her head ducked ever so slightly to catch my attention since I peeled my eyes open. “Sorry… um, we should get going now.” I said quietly it almost echoed through the empty house- it certainly echoed through Larissa’s mind, she was taken aback and so confused, but if I needed to stop, she wouldn’t begrudge me of that.

I quickly pack up my stuff and walked back to the truck in silence, safe to say I felt like shit, I don’t want to offend her in anyway because she’s perfect, beautiful, incredible in every sense of the word and I’m just… well, me. Turning the keys in the ignition and setting off again, I glanced at her fidgeting hands in her lap, hesitantly I placed my own on top of one of hers, Larissa looked at me directly as my eyes were trained on the road, my expression displayed a huge amount of guilt. She was watching me so intensely try to wrap her head around what’s going on in mine, I turned to her and really looked into her eyes as an apology, as a ‘it’s not you it’s me’ kind of look, she engaged the silent conversation with ‘it’s ok’ while also cracking a little smile. I returned my eyes to the road and never let go of her hand.

“Oh, see that house over there? It’s my dream home!” I said excitedly, my eyes lit up and my demeanour changed drastically. “That horrid, run down, abandoned looking one? I don’t even want to ask why.” She chuckled. “Look at it though, it has sooo much potential, imagine all of the work I could do to fix it up, it could be beautiful, and its would be massive on the inside.” I said, Larissa looked at me as if I were insane, to be fair if someone said they wanted to live in a shit hole like that I’d be pretty perplexed to. “Mm I can see that now…I suppose.” She hummed watching it fade from view, after a short couple of minutes we made it back to the work shop where I put away the truck and ushered Larissa to my personal car that stayed there overnight.

Without asking I went strait home in dying need of a shower and led Larissa to take purchase in the lounge room to wait, politely I offered her a drink in which she asked for a tea, I made it and placed it on the coffee table beside her. “Thank you darling.” She whispered smiling up at me once I straightened up. “I’ll be out in a minute.” I said leaving her to go to my room. Larissa sat in comfortable silence casually sipping on the drink, before she set it back down she took ahold of the poetry book that still remained in its previous place, as she opened it there were lots of little sheer sticky notes on the pages, only scanning through the highlighted ones there was one in particular she read over and over.

‘She was beautiful, but not like those girls in magazines. She was beautiful, for the way she thought. She was beautiful, for the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about something she loved. She was beautiful, for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad. No, she wasn't beautiful for something as temporary as her looks. She was beautiful, deep down to her soul.

She is beautiful.’

Larissa kept going throughout the book to relise they were all pertaining to women, it gave her enough satisfaction to know that I did take an interest to woman and that she wasn’t the only one.

Out of the shower, I reapplied light make up and dressed in baggy casual clothes -because I don’t have anything else- and stepped back out into her presence, Larissa set the book back in place before I could see and stood up walking towards me. “Do you want me to take you back now? Or do you want to go somewhere or watch a movie?” I asked. “A film sounds lovely.” She said. “Would you rather out here or in my room?” I questioned. “Where ever you’d like.” She answered. I turned and motioned for her to enter my room, she took off her heels, shed herself from her coat and left it on the floor beside her shoes and sat on the edge of the bed.

I let Larissa flick through Netflix, she’d look at one, contemplate it, watch the trailer, then move to the next one, It wasn’t a bother, it gave me more time to unabashedly watch her. While her eyes were glued to the screen I inched my hand closer to hers and lightly fiddled with her fingers, observing red painted nails against slightly chipped pink ones, our hand were close in size but her fingers were skinnier than mine, ultimately shes skinnier then me in every way. So lost in deep thought my hand traveled up her arm and to her shoulder, then neck, then face. Larissa was doing everything within her to not move, she didn’t want it to end, she was so afraid that if she breathed to hard I would stop.

Snapping back to reality I didn’t pull away, I tried to embrace it, that I did. I grasped the remote in her hand and crawled slowly to straddle her lap, though I didn’t sit on her I mearly hovered, I’m far too heavy for her. Larissa kept her body still and only moved her eyes. “I dont know what I’m doing.” I said quietly, I had her face in my hands and peered deeply into her cobalt eyes. “That’s ok sweetheart, you don’t need to… but, what do you want?” She asked at the same level of voice. For a moment I thought of how to say what I want. “I… I’d like to-uh… I want to touch you.” I said sounding like an inexperienced teenager with a burning blush. “Then touch me.” She said, her pupils dilated and her voice dripping with seduction.

But of course Violet does something stupid and starts to have a minor panic attack. Larissa’s expression turned concerned, she slung her arms around my neck, pulled me flush against her and stroked at my damp hair. “It’s ok, your alright.” She cooed in my ear, my hands and thighs were trembling and burning from clenching the muscles in my legs to stop me from putting my weight on her. Slowly I pulled back. “I need to tell you something.” I said shakily, I know I have to, she needs to understand what the fuck is wrong with me. Larissa nodded and waited patiently for my breathing to slow and to take a pause to muster up the courage of what I’m about to say. You haven’t spoke about this for 15 years Violet, what makes you think she’ll care?

“I’m not sure how you’re going to feel about this but…” I took in another deep breath. “When I was 20, I met a man and we fell in love…” Larissa nodded for me to continue. “We were together for 3 years and by the time I was 23, we were engaged. We wanted to start a family before we got married…” I said, Larissa’s brows knitted together wondering where I was going with this. “So… we tried to have a baby, but after a while, it wasn’t working. I went to the doctor and I was told that-.” I cut myself off to restrain any and all tears. “I was told I couldn’t have children, that I’m infertile.” I said. Larissa thinking I was finished told me that’s ok and that she’s very sorry for how unfortunate that is. “It doesn’t change my view on you though Violet.” She said brushing the hair out of my face.

“But… he thought he wasn’t trying hard enough.” I continued, Larissa’s face and stomach dropped at the statement. “So, he tried harder, more frequently, longer.” I said flinching at my own words. “And when he got tired of it… he threw me away. He told me I was useless and selfish for not being able to give him kids, and then two weeks later he told me that he got another woman pregnant.” I said filling with a little bit of relief as I finally let it out. Larissa was utterly dumbfounded, she sat in shock hardly knowing how to comprehend what I just said. “That’s why I moved to Jericho 15 years ago.” I added. “And… since then, I haven’t- been with anyone else.”

Oh. She thought, this makes so much sense now, Larissa understands how this is an issue for me and considers how I must be feeling. “I’m so unbelievably sorry that happened to you darling. I’m so proud that you told me. But I still remain unfazed, I will not hold you to a different light because of your past, I do not begrudge you of something that has been done to you and happened to you… I promise, it actually makes me more akin to you sweetheart.” She said softly.

I took the opportunity to smash my lips against hers, so full of passion, so full of love, on my behalf anyway. Our teeth and tongues clashing together being completely in sync, the both of us let out breathy moans from the pleasure, Larissa grasped the sides of my thighs and pushed me down to completely sit on her, uncomfortably I did so and without her disrupting asking me to get off I stayed there. In a bound of confidence I pulled her flush against me to access the zip of her dress, she let me drag it down the expanse of her back and pull it down her shoulders, pulling away from the kiss I observed her bra clad breasts and my mouth practically watered from the sight alone.

She reached behind her to unclasp her white lace bra watching me the whole time, the slid the straps down her shoulders and removed it completely and tossed it to the other side of the bed. My eyes flicked down and her breasts were on full view, I brought my hand up to her chest and palmed them slowly, Larissa’s head lulled to the side and let her eyes flutter close. Her skin was so soft and so smooth compared to the skin of my hands, but she didn’t seem to care. I leaned in closer to kiss her shoulder then eventually up her neck and jaw. Larissa tugged at the hem of my shirt wanting me to take it off. I pulled back yet again and lifted it half way before I paused to meet her gaze. She nodded and I continued to strip it off.

My own red bra was displayed in front of her, Larissa’s breath hitched as she took in the sight, my blush returned and all I could do was cover my stomach. I wasn’t too phased at my own breasts and the stretch marks on them at this moment, from the way she was staring I couldn’t tell if she was repulsed or just looking, she removed my arms from in front of me and her sight lowered to my stomach, obviously if we are to continue she’d have to see but all I wanna do is put my shirt back on.

Larissa traced her fingertips along my sides and hummed in what seemed to be delight. “So pretty.” She muttered. “I’m sorry.” I said at the same time, she looked at me through heavy lidded eyes. “What for?” She asked. “Well I’m not as beautiful as you, I’m sorry that if you want to stop because of it.” I said. “Fuck no Violet. Look at you, you’re curvy and delicious, you’re so sexy my darling... Do you want your know my favourite part?” She whispered leaning into my ear. “Yes.” I answered. “These, and this.” Larissa’s fingers danced over the stretch marks of my breasts and stomach. Internally my insides were fluttering and heat pulled at the apex of my core.

“Can I take this off?” She asked referring to my bra. I let her remove it, as a little gasp left her lips I once again took the opportunity to kiss her again. I couldn’t stop myself from bucking my hips into hers looking for friction to grind down on. Larissa clamped her hand on my hips and roughly guided me back and forth across her thighs whilst simultaneously diving into my chest with her mouth, she latched her lips around my left bud and sucked hard causing me to arch into her more and throw my head back in pleasure. She didn’t forget to give the other attention either.

I got off her lap and asked her to lay down, as she did so I ripped off her dress that was still wrapped around her waist and unceremoniously tossed it aside. Larissa’s stomach was pale and soft much like her breasts all I want to do is mark and bite it, I sat between her parted legs and hooked my fingers in the waistband of her panties and rushed to get them off her long legs, I couldn’t slow down even if I wanted to, she’s like a drug or aphrodisiac that runs freely within my veins. Her pussy now on full display and her body at my mercy, I looked down at her, my own lust exuding and at that moment we both knew this wasn’t going to be sweet or timid, it wasn’t going to be gentle. It was going to be rough and urgent. It was going to be sinful and nether of us could stop it. I’ve depraved myself for far too long long and I can’t push her away.

Making myself comfortable on my knees and bending to level with her heat, I gave her one last look before latching onto her clit. The moan she let out was almost pornographic and only made my own pussy contract around nothing and leave me with ruined underwear. Larissa fisted the sheets beside her with one hand and with the other she gripped my hair pushing my face into her impossibly harder, she ground down on my face searching for more. I gazed through my lashes to view her blissed out face and kiss swollen lips, like I said, it’s not possible for her to ever be unattractive.

She made eye contact with me and slightly controlled her face more to clearly see through her hazy eyes. I brought my hand up to her entrance and carried on with my assault on her clit, sitting up a little I made sure she could see what I’m doing, I held up a finger, then another, then another, clearly signalling three. With those three fingers I wiped up her folds before entering every single one at the same time, she hissed and her eyes rolled towards the back of her head, the sight of her was just as pleasurable as what I’m giving her. “Fuck… oh fuck yes.” She moaned.

After her third orgasm she pushed me away from her overstretched and over simulated core, crawling back up her body I left red and purple marks on her otherwise untouched stomach and sternum. Larissa yanked me up to her face and kissed me again using her tongue to taste herself. “Your turn.” She growled flipping me over onto my back, Larissa undid the drawstring of my pants and shimmied them of my legs along with my underwear, I hadn’t even realised I used my hands to cover my stomach again, not until she lifted them of and kissed my palms and placed them on her shoulders. Larissa sat on my lap and used her nails to graze over my arms and sides, this was only the beginning, she tormented and teased for a long time before she couldn’t refuse the inevitable.

Panting out of control and sweating to high heaven, we lay side by side completely naked and exhausted. Larissa stood from the bed and walked into my ensuite with her hips swaying, I sat up wondering why she left. She’s probably touching up her make up and getting ready to leave. I thought, a melancholy feeling filled me and I reached for my t-shirt and slipped it back over my head. Hopping off the bed as well I pick up the strewn clothes and place them nicely on the end of the bed. I smiled at the thought of what just happened, Larissa was so beautiful with her smudged lipstick and mascara, the tremble in her limbs when she came, the way she looked at me when I came undone, even the little bits of hair that came loose to frame her face. Larissa was more than this though, she deserved more, something more domestic, more beautiful than a passionate fuck I suppose. Larissa deserves home cooked meals and hand holding in the street, she’s worth the efforts that a romantic relationship includes, like bathing together and eating together or having someone she loves’ chest to lay on. I think the worst part is that I know I’m not that person.

Larissa walked out of the bathroom with a wet cloth and looked at me quizzically. “What are you doing?” She asked. I stood back from the bed and cracked my knuckles nervously, avoiding the art work I stained her body with. “I thought you wanted to leave… I was just picking up your clothes so they didn’t get to creased.” I said looking to the ground. Larissa paced towards me grasping my arm and pushing me to lay back down. I followed her silent instruction but was confused as to why she started to lift my shirt again. “What are you doing?” I whispered. “Cleaning you up.” She answered. It felt like the air was knocked out of my lungs at her statement. Tears threatened to spill from the corners of my eyes, Larissa spread my knees and started to gently wipe away the accumulated arousal.

She sat folding the material continuously and cleaned me until she was satisfied. Her eyes moved to looked at mine and her self satisfactory smile faded once she saw my burning cheeks and wet eyes. “Oh what’s the matter?” She asked tossing the rag to the door way of the ensuite and cupping my face. “No-.” I stuttered. “No one’s…” Larissa’s brows raised trying to understand. “Nobody’s ever done that for me before.” I said chocking on my uneven breath. “Oh darling.” She said dragging my body up to hers embracing me tightly.

Larissa looked at me like I was the most fragile thing in the universe, I hated it, I wish I wasn’t like this. A while later we decided on a movie and snuggled under the covers, she stroked at my hair and giggled at the screen from time to time, I didn’t give a fuck about the tv, to be in this moment with her was so for filling and wholesome. I pondered for a second before letting myself ask the question. “Larissa?” I started. “Mmm?” She hummed looking down at me. “I was wondering if you would like to come away with me after Christmas?” I said hoping she would but trying to come to terms with the possibility she’d say no. “Yes.” She said with a grin. Oh. “I have to go to my parents houses, dads for the first week then mums for a week… if you’re not comfortable with that-.” She nodded enthusiastically and said. “Yes I will, what day do we leave?” I looked at her wondering why she seems so excited but continued anyway. “The 27th, my sister’s are gonna be there and my nieces, which is nice I haven’t seen them for a long time.” I said. Larissa agreed and was looking forward to it, and of course she started to make a mental list of what to pack.

For the rest of the afternoon we stayed in bed and went through countless amounts of movies and whatever snacks I had in my pantry. She sat in my clothes, in my bed, in my room, in my home, Larissa to me felt like she belonged there, like this is exactly where she’s supposed to be, because to be honest I’m really being to think she is my home, Larissa weems owns it all though, all the materialistic things I own from the things in my house to the clothes I wear on my back as well as my heart and soul and if she wanted me to I’d kill myself if she asked. I love her more than anything. perhaps it is more personal than it is professional, but that’s the tragic part isn’t it?

@lex13cm @im-a-carnivorous-plant @barbarasstar

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@readingtheentrails @readingtheentrails

[catcze]

HI CATTE! big fan of ur works!! glad to see another wrio filo fan !!, can I request wrio trying to learn filo for Filipino!reader !! I think it's super cute and I feel like he would probably become fluent in secret to surprise you !!!!!

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

「 FEAT : 」  Wriothesley x GN! Filipino! reader

「 ### : 」  Fluff, some swearing, but overall very good vibes ♡ Reader can speak Tagalog! I'll be real this is super cheesy esp the tagalog dialogue but SUE ME I love cheesy shit and this is self indulgent. Written pre-4.1 release.Translation for Tagalog dialogue found at the end!

AAAA HI BABY ♡ I cannot express how happy this made me ?!?!? Like, I'm bumping it up on the prio because it made me sooo kilig when i read it HAHAHAH I hope you like it lots !! (also if any filos have corrections/improvement on the tagalog dialogue pls lmk because I am notttt the best at writing in tagalog dialogue lmao) also ! I changed it and made him, like, not super \ fluent yet at Tagalog, hence why imo some of his dialogue sounds a bit;;; like, practiced? textbook? if that makes sense? HAHAH

Wriothesley doesn't have some big, grand reason for doing any of this. It's not your birthday or your anniversary or anything like that. He's not meeting your parents and he sure isn't planning on proposing just yet.

In all honesty, it all started from a quick kiss you pressed to his cheek and a string of words in a foreign language whispered into his ear.

"What did you say?" he asks when you pull away, a small smile on your face.

"I said mahal kita," you tell him, a hand resting on his arm. Your eyes soften almost imperceptibly when you say the phrase again. You sound so damn fond when you say it, it makes his heart want to skip a beat. "It's one of the most common ways to say 'I love you' in Tagalog."

"Can you say it again?" He asks, and you easily comply.

Mahal kita. Mahal kita. Mahal kita. I love you. He turns the words over and over in his head, then tries to replicate how you pronounce it with his own tongue, but the words come out a bit funny thanks to his fontainese accent. He's not used to the intonation of the language and it shows, if your amused little laugh was anything to go by.

"Like this," you tell him after watching him struggle for a bit and taking mercy on his poor tongue. "Repeat after me." Then you open your mouth wide, so he can see how you do it.

"Ma."

"Ma?"

"-hull."

"-hull."

"Kih."

"Kih?"

"Mhm. Tah."

"Tah."

"Put all that together, and you get mahal kita."

He tries it again, but it still comes out a bit funky. Not at all like how you say it, sounding buttery smooth and practically dripping with charisma. Despite this, you still smile at him like he's given you the world in your palms, or like you're about to cry from happiness. You press your lips against his, stealing the air right from his lungs and making his eyes flutter shut. He can never get tired of kissing you, he thinks, and if messing up a little bit gets him this much affection, he can only imagine what you'd be like if he improved.

"Mahal din kita," you mumble against his lips, breaking away but not straying far.

After that, unbeknownst to you, Wriothesley picked up what is essentially (but not actually the title) a Tagalog for dummies book and hunted down a guard in the fortress who can speak the language enough for him to consult whenever merely reading the words on a page was not enough.

You've also begun to speak Tagalog more and more around him since finding out his interest in the language. You've even managed to correct his pronunciation a little bit, despite how new much of it was new to him.

("You have to roll your r's a bit more, Wrio. Like... like you're purring, i guess?" That, in particular, he heard quite often. Who knew that his mother tongue said their r's differently from yours? Certainly not him.)

He eats up every bit of advice you give him in passing when he tries to replicate whatever word or phrase you just said, quietly taking note in his head and repeating the phrases back to himself even when you're not around. He goes to that one guard he had dubbed as his 'Tagalog tutor' and peppers them with questions so often that he figures it warrants him to hand over a particularly generous bonus later on for letting him as much of a bother as he is.

And finally, after a good long while of giving it his best effort, his tutor deems him able to hold a conversation in Tagalog well enough, and promptly pushes him out the door, telling him to 'go get 'em, boss.' before hastily locking the door behind him.

When Wriothesley wanders back to your living quarters, reassuring himself that he's been practicing for this, for you, and that even if he gets it a little bit wrong, you're probably going to be happy either way. Probably.

"Sweetheart?" He calls, coming inside. He follows your faint 'over here' to find you on your bed in your casuals, relaxing for the day.

When you catch sight of him, you smile, beckoning him close, just to press a kiss to his lips when he leans over. "Hey," you say, grinning up at him.

"Kumusta ka? Namiss kita, mahal. " He says, the words coming out a soft murmur against your lips. You pause for a good while, jaw dropping and brows furrowing in confusion, and Wriothesley fears that he could have messed up somehow. Then a wide smile breaks across your face as you glow with absolute delight.

"Hoy, talaga?! Nagtatagalog ka?" You sit up to be eye-to-eye with him, and you see nothing short of pride in his eyes. One of your hands flies up to cover your mouth as you gasp. "Woah, ang galing mo!"

And oh, it's one of the cutest things you've ever seen from him— Wriothesley smiles, just s little bit, and the slightest hints of a blush dust his face. It's adorable to see how he reacts to your praise.

Wriothesley's eyes dart away from yours, one of the few tells of embarrassment you've ever seen from him. "Pasensya na, di pa ako magaling magtagalog. Nag aaral pa lang ako."

"Kahit na!" You're clearly enthused, happy and grinning and buzzing with energy. "Namiss din kita! Okay naman ako. Ikaw? Kumain ka na ba?" You're wide awake and looking up at him like he hung the stars in the sky for you. Wriothesley is smiling now too. All those hours and late nights trying his best to get the words right, and this was the very reason why.

"Mhm, kanina pa, bago pumunta ko dito." One of his hands reaches up to your face. The callouses and scars of his hand drags a giggle from you as he tries to rub the sleep from your eyes. "Sana nakatulog ka ng maayos."

And compared to when you first told him you love him in your language, his Tagalog has improved by leaps and bounds. Still affected by his accent, yes, but his hard work showed through. It is that and the tenderness in his voice that makes you break this little song and dance between the two of you. Your hand reaches up to hold the one cupping your cheek, letting you lean further into his palm.

"Were you intending to surprise me? Because you certainly did. In a good way, I mean."

Wriothesley chuckles. "I'm glad. Been trying to learn it since that first time, and I think I'm making some progress. Though anything more than a simple conversation is still a bit much for me."

"Kahit na," you repeat yourself, "You're amazing! You got so good! Oh, we are going to have so much fun having secret conversations that no one else can understand."

He playfully quirks an eyebrow at that. "While that's definitely going to be some fun, I really wanted to learn how to, ah, tell you that I love you back."

"Oh." Again, you pause. "Well. Here's your chance, I guess." And you smile at him again, the one that has his heart skipping a beat. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders to pull him into your space, you press your forehead against his and close your eyes. He can feel your breath tickle against his lips, and he almost sighs in response.

"Mahal kita, Wriothesley."

"Mahal din kita, my love."

Translation:

"Kumusta ka? Namiss kita, mahal. " — "How are you? I missed you, love."

"Hoy, talaga?! Nagtatagalog ka? — "Hey, really?! You're actually speaking Tagalog?"

"Pasensya na, di pa ako magaling magtagalog. Nag aaral pa lang ako." — (spoken sorta formally) "Sorry, I'm not very good at speaking Tagalog yet. I'm still learning."

"Kahit na!" "Namiss din kita! Okay naman ako. Ikaw? Kumain ka na ba?" — "Even so!" "I missed you too! I'm fine. What about you? Have you eaten yet?"

"Mhm, kanina pa, bago pumunta ko dito." "Sana nakatulog ka ng maayos." — "Mhm, I did earlier, just before I came here." "Hopefully you had a good nap."

"Mahal kita, Wriothesley." — "I love you, Wriothesley."

"Mahal din kita, my love." — "I love you too, my love."

[sanjithesimp]

♡ next door ft. min yoongi♡

a/n: i wrote this fic in under 1 hour, the idea popped into my mind and couldn't stop thinking about this.

warnings: nsfw (minors DNI). pwp. unprotected sex. creampie. choking. fingering. mention of alcohol.

summary: yoongi is your neighbor, he complains about everything you do. you hate him. is there something that you could do so he will finally leave you alone?

playlist suggested to listen while you read this &lt;3

it was a cool night, your boyfriend and you got to your apartment. the party was boring so you decided to head back home and maybe do something that might be even more fun.

“babe, c’mere” he said as he pressed your body to his, feeling his heart beating fast as he started attacking your neck. pushing all the way to the little balcony from your apartment, his hands roaming all over your body.

you both were a little drunk and horny, so it didn’t matter at all to you that everyone on the street could see you. or not until you heard a voice “hey! can you please take this somewhere else, i’m kind of in the middle of something” you jumped in surprise and covered yourself immediately.

it was your annoying, grumpy neighbor, he was about your age but acted like and old man. he always complained about everything.

“you should be the one to go, we are also kind of in the middle of something…aren’t we babe” your boyfriend said, as he started kissing your neck passionately while keeping eye contact with your neighbor. but you pushed him away immediately, you started feeling uncomfortable.

“let’s just go inside, ok?” you said pulling your boyfriend inside.

“no, no, i mean- is this the dickhead that always complains about you?” your boyfriend was pissed, you were scared as he could be very aggressive.

“don’t worry about it, let’s just continue inside.” you said holding your boyfriend “babe, please…i need you” you whispered in his ear teasingly, hoping that it would work and he would just forget about it. surprisingly it worked, avoiding any more conflict with that hateful neighbor of yours.

you could never understand why your neighbor was like that, but he was the main reason why you wanted to move out of the building. ever since you got there he wouldn’t stop, if it wasn’t the noise, it was your small dog that always fought with his cat, it was like if you were just meant to be enemies.

it had been weeks since the incident with your neighbor, and you stopped hearing complaints from him. everything was peaceful. birds were singing, and the days were brighter than ever. had he finally moved? had your dreams come true?

but no, unfortunately no. he was just on vacation and he would be back in a couple of days, or so your other neighbor said. you had to enjoy while it lasted, or you would regret it. so you blasted your music while you danced until your legs were tired to even walk to your room.

one night as you smoked a joint while reading a book in your balcony you heard a familiar voice “did you miss me?” he had a smirk drawn across his face.

motherfucker. you thought, it was like he enjoyed annoying you.

“can’t you see that i’m in the middle of something, and you’re interrupting?” you said looking back at your book and ignoring his stupid face.

“please turn that shit off, it reeks” he said. that was it, it was the last time you would take it and his attitude.

“you know what reeks? being your neighbor and hearing your complaints, i’m fucking tired of it!” you yelled, and it woke up a few neighbors.

“could you please keep it down?” another neighbor appeared.

“sorry, i am so sorry” you apologized, your face burning from embarrassment.

“see, it’s not only me-” he started saying, but you interrupted him

“we should talk inside” you said and opened your door. it was the first time he had actually been inside your apartment, but enough was enough he needed to understand that you were fucking tired of hearing his complaints.

“so what you want to talk about, huh?” he said.

“about you complaining all the time about every single thing i do, i can’t take it anymore” you said not losing eye contact.

“and what are you going to do about it? are you going to cry?” he said. that was it, you lost it completely and slapped him. the silence after it made it even more uncomfortable than it was already was. you weren’t sure why you decided to slap him instead of yell or cry like you always did when you were frustrated. you could see the hand print on his face, red and painful.

“i- i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have-” you started apologizing and suddenly tears started running down your face, you started sobbing uncontrolably.

“no, i’m the one who should be sorry…i didn’t realize what i jerk i have been with you” he said, suddenly his face had changed. he was worried.

“let’s sit down, here” he placed his hand on your back and guided you to your couch, and sat down next to you. when you had calmed down, you cleared the tears off your face. you were a mess but he stayed there with you, not saying a word.

“sorry you had to see that, i- i’m not usually like this but-” he interrupted you again.

“you don’t have to keep apologizing, you have apologized enough and i should be the one doing it.” he said, his voice soft and sweet. was this really your neighbor?

you kept talking as the night went on, and realized that yoongi, your neighbor wasn’t that terrible after all. and you wouldn’t admit it out loud but he was kind of really hot. you hadn’t realized until now, or maybe it was because you hated him so much before that you ignored his soft features, his smile, or the way his shirt tightened in all the right places, his long hair that made him look like a rockstar. black looked so good on him…

for fuck’s sake what where you thinking? you weren’t just having that kind of thoughts for a guy who you hated just a few hours ago. and you also had a boyfriend who cheated on you repeatedly, but you loved him…right?

“whatever” you said and pushed yourself closer to your hot neighbor, your lips centimeters away from him.

“do you really wanna do this?” he asked, and you rolled your eyes.

“just fucking kiss me” you said and without any doubts he crashed his lips on yours, he tasted like whisky, you placed your arms around his neck. his kisses were passionate, you could feel the hunger and desperation as his lips traveled to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he left small marks.

he pulled you closed until you were sitting on his lap, making you feel the bulge forming under his black jeans. you moaned as you felt him over your clothed cunt.

“fuck, if this was going to end up like this i should have made you snap sooner” yoongi said as he started taking off his shirt.

“do you want to fuck me or not?” you said pouting.

“more than you think..” he said moving his hands under the hem of your shirt, his hands cupping your breasts, he knew exactly what he was doing. you rolled your hips, you couldn’t wait to feel him inside you.

i bet he’s so big. you thought, your pussy getting wetter than it already was.

you got rid of the rest of your clothes until you both were almost naked. the light of the small lamp on your living room was the only thing lighting the room, your bodies melted into one, your moans and his groans filled the room.

“i want you” you whispered in yoongi’s ear.

“wait for a bit longer, love. i promise you i will make you scream louder than that stupid boyfriend of yours.” he said, showing that characteristic smirk of his. you whimpered audibly, making him laugh, he was teasing you.

“i wanna see that…i mean you constantly complained of the weird noises at night or were you just jealous that it wasn’t you fucking me?” showing him that you could tease him too.

suddenly his face changed, his eyes darkened and were filled with lust. he pushed your panties to the side. “you’ll be begging me to stop” he said, his fingers slowly travelling from your belly to your pussy, feeling the wetness in between your legs making you feel embarrassed.

“fuck, you’re so wet and i haven’t even started” he said, pushing two fingers inside you, as your clawed your nails on the couch.

“feels so good” you said as he started pumping his fingers in and out of you, your juices covering his hand as he started moving his fingers in a scissoring motion. your moans drowned the room, tears welled up in your eyes as you could feel your orgasm building up.

“babe, i think you’re ready” he said in a low husky voice, as he removed his fingers making you miss being filled. he takes off his boxers, revealing his throbbing cock, precum leaking from his tip. and you don’t have to imagine, because now you know for a fact that he is big, you gasp thinking that maybe it won’t fit inside you.

“i know you can take me, love” he says and with that you convince yourself that you will take all of him.

he pumps his cock a few times, and then teases you with his tip. you moan feeling his heavy tip as your juices combine with his precum, you’re so sensitive that his touch makes you squirm. he then aligns with you, and pushes himself inside you slowly until you are filled completely.

“fuck, you’re so tight…” you can feel him pulsating inside you, he’s just as needy as you are. the burn hurts but at the same time feels good as he thrusts into you, it disappears later on as his pace increases and your cunt adjusts to his length.

he rips out the loudest moans that have ever come out of your mouth, you scream his name like it is a prayer and you are immediately embarrassed at what will the neighbors say about it. but you don’t think about it much as yoongi fucks you into oblivion. each thrust making you see stars hitting that sweet spot every time until the coil on your belly snapped, squirting and coating his cock with your cum.

you were to fucked out to do anything else, so you let him do whatever he wanted with you while he chased his own high. his hand wrapped around your neck, fuck it almost made you cum again. the sight of the mess he made out of you, tears running down your face, your makeup ruined and his hand around your neck was all he needed to cum hard inside you.

he then pulled out of you and laid on top of you, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. his heart beating so fast, while you both recovered.

suddenly you heard a loud knock, followed by a neighbor yelling “keep it down! it’s 2 a.m!” making you both laugh.

[moodymisty]

Hello, Mortarion simp club member #7 here. First off, sorry for the fungus.

Secondly, imagine word getting to The Emperor that Mortarion had found a partner. None of the primarchs ever got married (except for Fulgrim) so I’d imagine it’d be big news. To find out that any of his sons, let alone shit-bag himself, found someone to love would shake him to his core.

Now, I am a very small woman so it might just be projecting, but just imagining The Emperor of Mankind staring you down and shaking his head like,

“This is inhumane. It’s almost comical, how absurd this is. How have you not been ripped in half, or accidentally crushed underfoot?”

I know deep in my soul that Morty would be the most gentle of the primarchs because he’s never had anyone be gentle with him before. That man would start sobbing immediately if he so much as accidentally bumped into you. Full on ‘please don’t leave me’ breakdown if he hurts you in any way.

The fungus is amungus.

Honestly given the way that the Emperor thinks of Mortarion as sort of a failure among his 'sons', and has just abandoned any possibility of him achieving greatness, him accomplishing something so 'odd' would definitely get a query or two. This behavior sounds more like Sanguinius or Fulgrim, not Mortarion.

Also the Emperor saying that it's 'inhumane' fucking killed me. I don't know why him saying that in response to one of the Primarchs picking up a lover is so fucking funny but also kind of accurate? I mean, pulling a normal human into what is basically a small pantheon of demigods isn't exactly a good idea. Not to mention the dangers involved that you could go on about for hours. Both being around and with a Primarch. It's less that The Emperor would ever care about a singular human, but he more so just finds the absurdity of it, amusing. Or as amusing as someone like him can.

I definitely think out of all the (future) heretic Primarchs, Mortarion, Fulgrim, Magnus, and Lorgar would probably both be the most gentle. He's also horrifically damaged (which Primarch isn't lmao) and has a slew of self image issues. He might not cry, but he'll sure as hell give you the stars as long as you don't drop to the wayside like everyone else in his life. You're the figurative jewel of his eye, and nothing will take you away from him.

He loves you, you love him, it's awful and harmful and will probably end terribly but damn does it taste good.

Also, a snippet to go with this. Enjoy.

Mortarion/Fem!Reader, No extreme warnings apart from typical 40kness and hinting at a toxic, obsessive relationship. I'm actually really coming around to liking Morty, if I never get a chance I really want to write some of my personal ideas for him

That meeting still lingers on your mind. You look out the window and wring your hands, trying to figure out why your heart continues to pound so hard against your chest. When it doesn't stop, you sit down and fail to try and stop your mind from running it through once again.

You met The Emperor.

You met the father- or simply creator as some of the Primarchs refer to him- to the Primarch you could possibly call your beloved.

It had been a surprise meeting; You were already so worn and tired from speaking to Primarch Fulgrim, shoulders tense and mind strained. While you might be close to Mortarion, being in the presence of Primarchs is still such an intense and formal ordeal, that forces you to carefully watch your words, your tone, your body language.

Just as The Phoenician seemed to be getting bored of you, as you kept politely avoiding giving him any worthwhile and intimate details about Mortarion, The Emperor had apparently come to see the lover of his fourteenth son; The first of them to ever take someone that could be potentially called a consort. It has been the rumor of the palace for days now, and it's seems to have spread now even to the Golden Throne.

He only ever spoke one sentence to you. And it will likely remain the only one. You would delude yourself into thinking that you have any business with The Emperor, beyond what little falls from Mortarion's lips. Either way, his words and voice with stay within your mind for as long as you live.

He looked down on you, barely able to reach his hips, and almost seemed to sigh. As much as a man such as him could. When you dared look at him, seeing any emotion on a man so borderline ethereal seemed so out of place. Though it was only there for a moment, and then his expression turned to that non-emotion of cold stoicism.

"I should not be surprised, to see he chose someone so small they cannot think to stand against him."

You decided to keep your head respectfully bowed in his presence, but you can't help but furrow your brow ever the slightest at his cryptic speech.

"You fraternize with the most fractured of all my sons. Do be careful with him."

Did he mean to be careful around him? Or to be careful with him? How could someone that in the grandness of things, as insignificant as you, be able to do either?

You pull yourself from being lost in your own thoughts and look out over the palace skyline, seeing nothing but golden peaks as far as the eye can see. It's inconceivable in size, that just viewing it doesn't give even the slightest hint as to it's sheer scale. And from what little you've heard, it's not even close to it's completion. New Praetorian Rogal Dorn has been continuing it's construction for years now, and will likely continue for decades more.

The soft sound of a door opening forces you to look towards it. Mortarion enters, and instantly comes closer. You haven't seen him since you had first encountered Fulgrim. You assume he had more urgent matters than batting away his fellow Primarchs away from the new thing of interest.

Your face softens as he comes closer, seeing his shoulders rolled forward slightly. The way he looks is a dead giveaway that he is in a terrible mood; Not uncommon whenever his so called brothers are involved. You assume that he is going to want a moment alone, and get up to take your leave. You'd heard nothing but his lamenting about hating the idea of returning to Terra for days now, but it seems you're wrong.

Before you have a chance to step away and leave the massive room that serves as the most private of his chambers, Mortarion quickly snatches your arm at the wrist. Though given the size of his hand in comparison to yours, his hand grasps a significant portion of your forearm.

"Do not leave."

You look at him, the way his grey hair shadows his thin face, and how he seems even more drained of energy. He towers over you, but yet he seems almost ungainly and defeated.

The Pale King orders you, but his words are almost dipped in something you might consider calling desperation.

He has told you before that interacting with his fellow Primarchs and The Emperor foremost is something he hates most. That it all reminds him of stolen revenge and his dead world, how he's overcast by the shadows of men like Sanguinius and Horus. You knew he would be more fragile, harder to deal with, but you didn't expect him to seem almost, humiliated. You're used to him being impossible to contend with, spiteful, hateful, angry; Not this.

His hand grips tighter when you don't immediately come back, enough that it begins to hurt. You sit back down and he lets go, only to cup his hand tightly around your jaw. He tilts your head up to look at him. It hurts your neck a bit from the intense angle, and your much smaller hands grip his wrist to try and gain leverage.

You watch his eyes glance over your face, his own slum and demoralized. His grip on your face softens just a bit so he isn't yanking you around like some sort of doll. At least not as much.

He sighs, and leans down enough so that his forehead touches yours, long strands of limp grey hair brushing against your face, and nothing more is said.

[sweet-honey-tears]

Bartender Shinso

Shinso x fem!Reader part 2

This is part 2 of Bartender Shinso- sorry for the wait! It’s more suggestive then the last one- but still not straight up smut. If there’s a tag I should use- please let me know. Also thank you for the request!🤍 part 1

Warning: Extremely Suggestive themes(is a warning for when it starts), drinking, mention of being self-conscious, pet names (Kitty, kitten,babygirl) the author doesn't know much about bartending

Dating Shinso is a little funny.

Your first date is in the morning, and he’s 15 minutes late. You’re chewing your lip, staring down at your Luke-warm coffee.

“ Y/N! I’m so sorry!” You hear Shinso shout as he runs toward you.

You look up and you realize why he was late. His eyes have such dark circles he could almost pull off a vampire. His lavender hair is mused from running. His purple flannel is almost hanging off his shoulder and he’s wearing black jeans with a black shirt with the club's names on it. He’s also wearing his work shoes. Something you’ve only ever caught glimpses of from over the counter. The shoes are purple, with messily drawn cats on them. He told you his little sister did them. He must have just got out of work- or very recently did. You mentally slap yourself for picking a date in the morning of all times.

“Shit- sorry. I-”

“It’s okay Sin.” Shin, the name makes him smile but his guilt creeps on still. “You just got out, didn’t you?”

He looks at you surprised but gives a tired grin. “That obvious?”

“You’re wearing your work shoe…. And the Club's name is on your shirt” You smile sweetly. He looks down, seeming shocked at his own clothing. His cheeks darkened in embarrassment. “I got out at 3 am… then ran around cause Eri has a cold and…” his voice trails off as he shakes his head, a tired smile. It causes your cheeks to darken. “Come on, let's go get coffee and some breakfast,” you ask with a small smile. “Or dinner, for you?” Shisno laughed again. You asked if he wanted to cancel, and he said no. You both just sat and talked.

Dating Shinso is funny. It’s almost like dating a vampire. Mostly at night, before his shift, or early morning when the sky’s still dark.

“Kitten, go home. I know you're tired,”

He says softly to you. Leaning over the counter to cup your cheek.

“No. I wanna be here when you get off shift.”

“Babygirl, they'll kick you out for closing.”

You shrug. “Then I'll wait till then.”

They do the first few times- then they just stop. Watching you take a broom and help sweep up or wash the counters, just wanting to help out to get Shinso home sooner. The owner laughs, asking if you want a job.

The bouncers know you by name, and the waiters smile at you constantly. “Aw, Shinso’s Sweetheart is here!” one of the girls always says. Her song voice holds nothing but love and adoration at the sight.

Shinso’s busy and tired, juggling college classes(I can't come up with just one subject so you pick- ) and work- so you'll usually help him out. Whether it be getting groceries or doing small tasks so he can rest or study.

You met Eri without Shinso due to this The young teenager spotted you at the grocery store. Quietly and slowly walking up to you. She had apparently seen a photo of you on Shinso’s home screen when he came to visit and wanted to see if it really was you. The two of you chatted nicely, your eyes glancing over her shoulder to see a dark-haired man leaning on the shopping cart. His eyes lazily watching the two of you.

“Ah yeah, that's Azawia. He can be scary looking but he's a good guy. He worked with social services while in the police force before he became a teacher.”

A year or two later when you move into his appointment , you’re still trying to stay up for him. Waiting till the wee hours of the night and early morning to see him.

He smiles when he sees you fast asleep on the couch. Your cat Purrbon (like bourbon but with purr) fast asleep on your chest. No matter how tired he is, he’ll pick your sleeping form up and carry you to bed. Tucking you in before getting ready himself.

Shinso usually wakes up much later than you do, which is no surprise considering your different jobs. And on days you really can’t stay up, he’ll check his phone to see a wall of messages. Spanning from “I love you” to dinner ideas or random thoughts.

“I don’t expect you to read them shin! I know it’s a lot. I just miss you and… well I need to get it out somehow and Purrbon and only take so many snuggles!” You’re embarrassed, anxious, worried he’s angry.

Ah, that’s right- Shinso remembers the time you got drunk with the girls and he came home from work to find the pretty calico cat covered in lipstick marks. (You’re friends drove you home)

Shinso smiles at the thought. “I don’t mind if you send them then. They’re nice to look back to on very late nights.”

Those late nights, he’ll come home to a meal wrapped in plastic wrap in the fridge.

On some very early mornings, he’ll come home to find you sleepily at the stove in a bathrobe.

“Oh Shiny, you’re home.”

“What are you doing up?” He doesn’t mean to, but his voice is sharp and tired and he watches your shoulders drop. “No kitty I- I’m sorry it was a long night. Someone started a fight…” he mumbles into your shoulder, his arms around your waist as he presses himself into your back.

“It’s okay Shin, it’s late and I know you’re tired.” Your sweet sleepy voice says and his heart aches. He watches you make him eggs and rice, sitting down with him in the comfortable silence.

SPICE

Shinso’s also forced you to love yourself more. The love bites on your hips and thighs are hard to hide on some days.

“I’m not moving till you say it kitty.”

“Sh-shin- shin please this is embarrassing”

“Nah uh, kitty. Say it or nothing.”

His heart aches when he watches you struggle to see yourself in the way he does.

“Oh kitty you’re so fucking pretty. Fuck”

He comes up behind you in the mirror, his ringed hands resting on your waist. You’re both dressed for the club. He finally has a day off from working at a club and now he’s being dragged to a different one. Mostly at the constant harassment of his and your friends but still. He squeezes your waist.

“Kitty… imma have to be with you the whole night. Won’t be able to let you out of my sight.”

“What do you mean?”

“The other guys won’t be able to stop staring at you.” His rough voice whispers. “But they can’t have you.”He pulls your back flush to his chest, gripping your waist. He rests his chin on your shoulder. “You’re my pretty kitty. Only mine.” His rough voice whispers into your ear. “And I can’t wait remind you tonight. When I get that little dress off you and pound-“

“Shin!”

[sugarwithtea]

Hello can you do 3 14 and 12 from fluff2 plz

rise and shine | jhs

pairing : boyfriend!hoseok x reader

genre : fluff, humour

rating : sfw

summary : hobi wakes you up but you are being whiny.

word count : 793

warnings : swearing

author's note : this one was a very cute request, thankyou so much!! also, thanks to @oddinary4bts for beta-ing this cute guy so quickly hehe! ily!

prompt : "good morning, sweetie" + "sad...i have a blanket with all this extra room and no one to share it with." + "your hugs are nice.." from this list.

Were your dreams always so colorful?

Or is it something which happened after the entry of a certain someone in your life?

Well, sadly, you aren't able to dwell on that feeling too much because that certain someone has been trying to wake you up for the last 15 minutes.

"Good morning, sweetie." He adds the pet name just to annoy you. Bastard.

"Hobi please," you whine and pull the blanket over your head.

It's fucking 10 am.

This guy can't be serious to wake you up this early on a goddamn Sunday. 

"Rise and shine, sunshine," he almost yells – or you feel like he does because your state is still partially lucid.

"Call me an emo bitch. I am not a sunshine" you grumble and turn the other side.

You snuggle deeper into your bed when there's no noise from him but then grimace a second layer when he suddenly opens up the curtains.

"Ah. Just met an emo bitch named sunshine." 

"Hobi. I don't need memes on a Sunday morning."

He laughs as he comes near you and his scent invades your senses.

It's comfortable, colorful and very warm. You have a habit of describing people and scents with colors, and Hobi feels like yellow mixed with pink. But he also has an alter-aura – if that's a thing – which gives off severe deep orange and emerald vibes. And as always, your morning thoughts do not make any sense.

He pats your cheek twice and pinches it, as you squirm in your place like a child and roll away from him, lying on your stomach.

A sigh sounds out in the room and you realize it's his Sunday morning too. You aren't tired or exhausted, you are just being lazy. And if he has been trying to wake you up from the past few minutes, you feel that you should comply with him.

So, grumbling absolute gibberish, you roll over and sit up in bed, and almost immediately something hits your head.

"Ow."

It's pink and squishy. With those signature Kaws symbols. Fucking Hoseok.

"Oh my god I'm-" he doubles down while laughing as you take the fluff toy in your hand, "I'm sorry. I thought you wouldn’t wake up so I was," ha ha ha the only sound that comes out of him as he sits down on the floor with his hand on his tummy, "I was going to hit you with it, but you sat up suddenly. Oh my god."

Your grumbling doesn't stop as he straightens up and looks at you cheerfully, enjoying your disheveled state.

"I was waking up for your sake but now I'm ughh," you whine and sit back against the headboard, moving your blanket here and there.

"Now you are what?" he tries, holding his laughter in with pursed lips.

"Sad … I have a blanket with all this extra room and no one to share it with." You also spread your blanket to emphasize your statement and look down with a pout.

He laughs and your pout turns into a small smile, held back by you chewing the inside of your cheeks. Your hands are still fluffing up the blanket when he pulls it out of your hand. You look up, surprised, and watch him getting into the bed, pulling the blanket over his legs with his mouth set in a triangle.

"This is all because I love you," he grumbles and you smile brighter than the sun. You know he does this because he loves you, but you also know how much he enjoys your lazy shenanigans. It's just a matter of how long it will take him to break his character – which convinces absolutely no one.

You snuggle up to his side and look up at him with that same shit-eating grin of yours. It's a hobby. Annoying your boyfriend is your hobby. And you love it – as much as you love him. You wrap your hand around his torso, as you lay your head on his chest, eyes closing at the feeling of utter comfort.

And of course, he breaks. Not even a second later his hand finds solace on your waist and he tugs you closer (if possible). The way you can feel his smile shining on his face, even with your eyes closed, makes it impossible to stop the rising feeling in your chest. You can never ask for a better Sunday morning than being wrapped up in his arms.

"Your hugs are so nice-"

"Always, yes. One of my talents," he cuts you off and you let him continue about how useful his talents are for you.

And certainly, you can't deny it. Because there is nothing in your life that you value more than Jung Hoseok.

---

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[mrs-monaghan]

Honestly, at this point, I am so sick of defending Jikook's bond. JM has been purposely alluding when it comes to JK and I understand. I respect it, but by now he knows haters are hanging on his every word to discredit Jikook and he keeps handing them ammo & seems to be purposely doing it. Just like he has purposely excluded JK working on Letter and has just made it about Army, which has resulted in people also dismissing JK's involvement. That probably doesn't feel too good for JK, but I'm sure he respects JM's decision. If JK has another collab coming up with a member, you best believe they will talk about it and Letter will be forgotten, esp JK on it, cause its the way JM wants it. I actually feel a little bit bad for JK. He has really been putting himself out there & in a really eyebrow raising gay way toward JM and showing how much he loves him and JM comes in and knocks down everything JK has been putting out. I guess his way of damage control to tone the gay down. If he wasn't worried, he would have already mentioned JK's involvement with Letter normally. I just hope it doesn't make JK retreat, cause he did for a while. Now he's just been so open and free and I can see him pulling back, if JM keeps downplaying, cause all it does is make it look one sided from JK's end. I actually feel sorry for them, but JM really said you people aren't getting anything from me. I will giggle and blush about JK, but that's it.

I was ready with a different answer for you until I saw that you do understand what's going on and are just frustrated by it. Which is perfectly okay.

I guess it's his way of damage control to tone the gay down.

We have talked endlessly about how Jimin follows the rules, listens and does what is expected of him. Meanwhile JK don't give a shit and will do what he wants to do when he wants to do it.

I wouldn't be surprised if they're not even supposed to comment under each other's lives or mention each other. So what does JK do? Mention Jimin from start to end.

Yeah sure, it can be frustrating, but let it be frustrating because you want them to be them. To do them. To stop holding back. Don't be frustrated because you're tired of defending the relationship. You really don't have to. Just let the antis continue to anti. You know what you know, you've seen what you've seen.

What do you think would happen if Jimin does what JK does? I'm sure you've seen the JK hate from Jimin solos. But imagine how much worse that would be if it was Jimin doing what JK does. Yes, you as a Jikooker would be fed but guess what? Now, you'd be defending Jimin! AND you would still be defending their relationship.

We have a mountain of evidence that proves these 2 motherfuckers are in a relationship and still like you said, people have to defend their relationship. Do you honestly think if Jimin was as honest and open and forward as JK that everything would be solved? That antis would believe and tkkrs and jjks would stop attacking us and Jikook?

If your answer to this question is "no" then this ask is moot my dear.

As long as you know Jikook is real. As long as you know Jikook are couple. As long you continue to support and be happy for them. That is all that matters. No what haters think.

Haters will hate no matter what Jimin does or doesn't do. You need to make peace with that so that it can affect you less. And please remember u don't have to defend their relationship. Let whoever wants to talk, talk.

Jimin is incredibly smart and he says what he says when he needs to say it and is very strategic about it. He didn't have to answer the ramen question. He could have ignored it, easy. Yet he didn't, why? Any questions members reply to are a choice. Idk how good you are at reading body language or human behaviour but I'll just quietly leave this here and go have my lunch.

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