#next part also has smut lmfao

[gracieheartspedro]

Your Needs, My Needs

THE PRELUDE

a masterlist of how you can help gaza

pairing: cowboy!joel x f!reader (no outbreak)

description: you have made it to your new home in taylor, texas. your anxiety of owning your our home and being alone is coming to a head, but you need to be productive. a trip to the local furniture turns into you meeting some locals and your new cowboy neighbor.

word count: 3.7k words

warnings: there is no smut in this part. still MINORS DNI! no use of y/n! vague talk of reader's old life before texas, no real description of the reader, description of small age gap, joel being a sarcastic shithead. sarah is canon, so joel is a dad. distracted driving. talks of consuming food. reader has mental illness, mainly described as anxiety, but could be other illnesses. I make it pretty vague. the reader likes football? lmfao

author's note: this is the prelude to the many parts I have planned for these two. this is sort of just setting up everything. I want a slow burn for these two, so hopefully these first couple parts make you guys sweat with anticipation. I also wanna quickly thank all of you for the love on the preview of this fic. I hope you all enjoy it! let me know what y'all think. YEEHAW!

“Sign here and she’s all yours.”

When you brought the pen to the dotted line, you knew that this was going to be the start of your new life. 

While you were nervous about taking on such a huge project, you were ready to find solace in your alone time and work on yourself along with the beautiful farmhouse. You needed some peace and quiet, anyway. 

She was set on 20 acres of land on the outskirts of a small town called Taylor. The land looked like something out of a movie, it’s rolling hills and sprawling fields. 

The house was about 130 years old and needed a lot of TLC. You found it online after hours of scrolling. It was still liveable, but the older couple who owned it before moved to a retirement community and could not keep up with the maintenance. When the inheritance hit your bank account, you called the local realtor and told them you would be flying out there to check it out. When the car pulled up the long driveway, you knew that it would be yours. 

Texas was a new start for you. And boy, were you ready for it. 

You did not have a lot to move in, just a small UHaul full of boxes of clothes and miscellaneous trinkets. You left your furniture in your shared apartment in New York. You needed to find something that was more your style, anyway. 

You moved everything yourself. You were not sure you were ready to trust anyone to help you move in. You knew no one locally, anyway.

It took about three days to get settled, and by that, you simply put up a shower curtain and finally put sheets on your mattress on the floor. You had also created a laundry list of random things you wanted to get done around the house in the next month. Priority number one was getting the bathrooms working. The toilet downstairs doesn’t stop running and your upstairs one won’t flush at all. 

You decided that today was the day you would go out and buy some furniture for your living room and bedroom. You would also inquire to some locals about a plumber. It would take you days to work up the courage to reach out to someone in the phone book, so here’s to hoping you just run into someone on the street. 

You hop into the sedan that you were renting until you could buy a car. It was nice but it was no match for your long dirt driveway. You already expected to pay extra for all the dings on the exterior. 

The roads that lead into Main Street are long and winding. You loved driving, so when it was nice enough to put the windows down, you did so. 

Since there’s no one on this specific stretch, you decide to switch the CD you had shoved into the disc drive, opting for another mix you had made years ago. The radio never played what you wanted, especially the local stations in Taylor. 

In your distracted scramble for the CD, you don’t take note of the large stallion running next to your car. The CD is wedged between the seat and the main console and your fingers cannot reach the awkward position. 

You’re not speeding. But when a giant horse runs out in front of you, you can not hit the break quickly enough. You stop breathing, bracing for impact. You jerk the wheel slightly, swerving away from the steed.  Before your front end can make an impact, the horse is snatched back towards the divot in the road. 

You are in complete and utter shock over how abruptly it all happened. 

Your eye eventually catches a man on horseback, his cowboy hat shields most of his face, but you are more focused on how built this man looks. His biceps were straining against his button-up shirt as he held the lasso taut against his chest. His legs were locked around the brown stallion he was on, his jeans riddled with mud and dust. He had dark curls that peaked out from under his hat.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” You yell, your car slowly inching forward from its spot in the middle of the road, “Where did that thing even come from?”

The mysterious cowboy just shakes his head and trots away, clicking his tongue to guide the horse back into the field. 

Your heart felt like it may leap out of your chest. A car was chugging down the road ahead of you, so you knew you had to move out of the way. You turn into your lane and slowly start down the road again.

You do not even bother trying to find the CD, again. You would rather sit in complete silence. 

-

When you make it to the small stretch of downtown, your heart rate slows down. You spot a local furniture store that looks a bit dated. It was your best bet plus, you wanted to stand on solid ground and gain your bearings. 

You parallel park rather terribly and hop out of your car. You huff loudly, throwing your purse over your shoulder and slamming the door behind you. 

A hot cowboy saved your life. 

It’s the most Texas thing that’s happened to you since you moved here. 

You head inside the storefront. A smaller white-haired lady sits at the front desk, her head in a gossip magazine. 

“Well, hello there,” You muster in your best cheery voice, trying to act like you did not almost die, “I’m lookin’ for some furniture.”

She chuckles as she places her reading next to the register, “Well, you came to the right place, sweetheart.”

You return the laugh, glancing around the large store. Couches and recliners in rows in the front, wooden bed sets lining the back wall. You were so indecisive, you were not completely sure where to start. 

“I need a bedroom set and a couch or two. I just moved into th-”

“The old Caldwell farmhouse,” She cuts you off, hopping off her stool, “Saw you movin’ in a couple days ago. My boy is your neighbor.”

The joke about small towns is always true, you know that already. Everyone knows everyone else’s business. You could not shit without someone knowing about it. 

You raise your eyebrows, acting like you’re shocked she knows about you already. “Yes, that’s right. Your boy?”

“My oldest son, Joel. He lives across the way from ya,” She starts gesturing towards the couches, “Pop a squat on one and see which one ya like.”

You end up sitting on every couch before landing on a brown leather one with a matching loveseat. The old woman is a great saleswoman on top of being sickly sweet. She told you since you are one of her first customers of the month, she would give you a great discount on a coffee table. You were a sucker for a good deal. 

You knew what bed set you wanted immediately. It was a light-washed wood with tall pillars sticking out of every corner. It came with two matching dressers and one nightstand. It was only you, so you didn’t quite care about another side table anyway. 

When the lady starts tallying up your total, you watch the slow-moving downtown. A couple walking across the street into the small diner. An older gentleman walking his small dog. The rickety old trucks that loudly took up the roads. 

You’re so stuck in your head, you don’t even hear what your total is. All you do is hand over your credit card. She smiles and giggles as she swipes the card. 

“So I’ll have my boy deliver it to you tomorrow. He is busy workin’ today, but I’ll have him get it to you. He’s quite the handyman, always busy doing jobs around town. Will you be home in the morning?”

You would have to have some strange man in your home to set up the heavy wooden furniture. It made the hairs on your arm stand up. You knew you would not be able to haul it all, so you had to take the leap of faith and hope and pray this frail old lady’s son is not a serial killer. Or stalker. Or both. 

You needed your furniture, after all. 

It will be okay, you tell yourself. 

“U-uh, I will,” You swallow, “I don’t work right now, so I’ll be home all day.”

“Oh, goody! I will send him your way in the morning. He may have his brother with him just to get the bed up your stairs, but I promise they are good boys. If they aren’t, you come to me and their mama will deal with them.”

You laugh nervously, “Of course, thank you so much.”

–

You had woken up late, your anxiety creeping up on you last night. Your brain would not stop racing. You didn’t fall asleep until 2 am. You hop out of bed around 10:30 and wrap yourself in a cardigan. You have been leaving all the windows open at night, but you can tell the seasons are shifting because it gets so cold at night. 

The doorbell rings and it’s like your heart falls out of your chest. You know that after you open this door, you’re welcoming in someone completely new and unexpected and it makes your whole body jitter. You make your way to the front door and take a deep breath before opening it. 

Of course. It’s him. The hot cowboy. 

It made sense. The endless green across from your home had to be part of his property. The road you almost died on yesterday was right beside his land. His house was tucked right across from the end of your driveway, with countless barns spread across a couple of acres.

You were secretly hoping he would be some silly-looking hillbilly, but instead, you find out your delivery man is the ridiculously attractive cowboy from the day before. His hair is tidy and dark without the cowboy hat on. It’s peppered with some white hairs, but it only adds to his appearance. His flannel has the top three buttons undone and his jeans are stained with age. You are finally able to get a good look at his face with no shadows covering his permanent scowl. 

He had to be about 10 years older than you. You were not too far off from wrinkles, but you were still young enough to bear children without being considered geriatric. 

He squints at you when you swing the door open. The sun is hitting his eyes, highlighting the warm rich brown color. 

“Howdy neighbor,” He greets, a small smirk plays on his lips, “’m Joel. Nice to meet you officially.”

You introduce yourself, trying not to stutter as you say your name. He made you nervous. You chalk it up to just being nervous around men in general. But it’s the way his eyes trailed you as you moved just slightly.

You feel the need to clear the air because of the way he’s staring through you. 

“And uh, listen, about yesterday,” You try to apologize, but he cuts you off by raising his hand. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time an outsider got themselves hurt bein’ reckless down the backroads. Just glad you didn’t hit my horse.”

The response has a bit of a bite to it. You back up a step, your body also taken aback by his directness. You are used to confrontational people, but you’re not used to Southern folk being that way. 

“No, next time I’ll aim for the ditch and tell my insurance that there was a silly cowboy in the road that I had to miss.”

You can tell by the sheepish smile on his face that he was not expecting you to be feisty.

“Don’t think they’d give ya’ much money for that,” He says in a hushed but matter-of-fact tone.

You relax your shoulders, trying to collect yourself. “Probably not.” 

He turns back to his truck that has your bed frame in the back of it, disregarding the previous statements. “My brother is comin’ by in a few to help me get this stuff in.”

“Well, let’s not let all the air out of the house right now,” You extend the door wider for him. You are giving this man full access to your home now. You try to suppress your obsessive thoughts and instead decide that you know exactly what you can have him do while you wait. You remember his mom told you he was good with his hands, and since he wants to be snarky to you in the comfort of your own home, you would try to pick his mind about some of your home projects. “Come in, let me ask you something.” 

You begin, gesturing him into the entryway. He accepts the offer, kicking his boots off on the porch. You appreciate his thoughtfulness and for a second, you realize you may be the asshole. 

“Mama told you I was a handyman, didn’t she?”

You giggle, finding it funny that he could read the situation you were about to put him in. “She sure did.”

“She needs to stop tellin’ folks that,” His accent is so thick and syrupy, that it makes your insides tingle, “Got too many people askin’ me to fix their stuff.”

You guide him to the bathroom right off the living room and kitchen, “You know much about plumbing?”

“I’m assumin’ you don’t,” He mutters, “What do you have goin’ on?”

You point to the loudly running toilet, “This thing won’t stop running no matter what I do.”

“Well, what have you tried doin’?”

You both stand in the hallway, you looking up at him with furrowed brows, him looking down at you with anticipation. He was quick-witted, and you started to hate how much you liked it. He gave your sassiness a run for it’s money.

“I’ve flushed it a bunch of times. Cursed at it and kicked it,” He stares at you blankly. It makes your stomach roll, “Jesus, Cowboy, can you give a girl a break?”

He enters the narrow bathroom, approaching the toilet like there may be a bomb in it. He reaches towards the handle and jiggles it violently, which makes you giggle a bit. That’s exactly what you did. 

“So, why here?” He questions, squatting in front of the bowl. He continues to mess with the handle while you process his no-context question.

“What Texas or this bathroom?”

He chuckles, his smile spreading across his beautifully tanned skin. 

“You got tons of jokes, huh?” 

You don’t respond, just shrug your shoulders. He stands up, wiggling the top of the tank off the toilet. You watch his hands lock onto the sides of it, ensuring it will not drop off and shatter on the dated tile. 

“Texas,” He strains, freeing his left hand to mess with the handle. You lean against the door frame. 

You are not even sure why Texas. You just needed to get as far as you could away from New York. You did not want your past to catch up with you, and you did not want to get stuck in a city again. But you could not share all this with a random stranger. He may be in your house, looking at your commode, but you can’t completely trust him yet. 

“I just wanted a change of scenery. I always wanted a farmhouse.”

“Lots of upkeep,” He jabs, doing one more once over of the tank, “‘M thinking you may need a new float or chain. I can get my tools tomorrow and come over to fix it. May need to order a new part, though.”

You push off the wall, arms still crossed over your front. He puts the top back on and finally makes eye contact with you. 

He would come over again? To fix your toilet? 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, ‘m sure it’s the chain or float.”

“No, I m-mean,” You start to stumble over your words. You swallow, collecting yourself for a moment so you do not look crazy to him. “Are you sure you’re okay coming back over?”

He gives you a thin-lipped smile, “What are neighbors for?”

-

His brother arrives in a rickety old truck at about 15 past 11. He looks a lot like him, but shorter. He has those same eyes though, permanently tired. 

“Nice to meet ya, ma’am. ‘M Tommy.”

You grab his hand to shake it and he lingers a bit longer than you anticipated. Joel stayed on your front porch, putting his boots back on to start unloading the furniture. 

You are thankful the weather was kind today, especially since every evening this week has been stormy. The sun was beating mighty hard on the men as they collaborated on getting your furniture inside.

While they get everything set up, you busy yourself making lunch. You get the bright idea to make them each a sandwich. It’s the least you could do. 

You pile the cold-cut turkey and cheese onto the white bread you had, topping it with some mayo. When you hear their footsteps trailing down the stairs, you race out with the sandwiches on a porcelain plate.

“For your troubles,” You say before standing in their path to the door. Tommy smiles brightly, instantly snatching a sandwich from the plate. 

“Thanks, darlin’,” He takes a big bite, humming in satisfaction. He walks around you, leaving you standing in front of Joel. His eyes are piercing, his lips ajar a bit, but nothing is coming out. 

“Turkey and cheese, I promise.”

He reaches out grabbing the sandwich from you, “No sweet tea to go with it?”

Your heart sinks, instantly becoming self-conscious of your decision to be nice to these hicks. He was so intimidating with his steely expressions and broad shoulders. There was an essence about him that did not speak to his stone-cold exterior. It was more gentle. But you could only see hints of it when he smiled. 

He can tell the wheels in your head are spinning. Before you can speak, takes a bite of the sandwich and shakes his head. 

“‘m kidding, Yankee. Thank you, I ‘preciate it.”

You settle for letting out a long sigh and returning to your kitchen. You spend a couple of minutes, putting back all the ingredients in their proper places. 

You hear Tommy yell for Joel, his voice kind of panicked. You race out the front door and see Tommy balancing your coffee table off the side of the truck. Joel is running to his aid, the dust from your driveway kicking up behind him. You hold your breath watching Joel help him balance the wooden piece of furniture. 

“Can’t have you breakin’ your back before homecoming,” Joel fusses, guiding the legs of the table to the ground, “You know damn well Maria would have me, too.”

“Yeah, what’s a homecoming game without the head coach?”

You perk up, instantly becoming interested in the conversation that you weren’t supposed to be listening in on. The two men lift the table and start heading your way, right on the threshold. 

“You coach football?” You ask Tommy, trying not to show your excitement. You loved football, it reminded you of Sundays with your grandfather. You never got the privilege to go to an actual game, even in high school. 

“Yes, ma’am, for the local high school in Taylor. We are gonna make it to the state championships this year.” 

You glance at Joel when he says it. He rolls his eyes, “Gotta win at least one game to do that, Tommy.”

They place the coffee table right in front of your new leather couch. Tommy grunts, trying not to argue with his brother in front of a strange lady. 

He can’t help himself, though. He instantly snaps back at Joel.

“You know them boys have been practicin’ day in and day out. Why ya gotta be so negative?”

Joel places his hands on his hips, “Cause Sarah told me the guys in her grade are a bunch of dummies. I highly doubt they are ready to kick Georgetown’s asses.”

Tommy starts towards the door, “Just cause Sarah says it, doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“I believe my honor student daughter before I believe my dumbass little brother.”

You are not shocked Joel has a daughter. You are just shocked that she’s in high school. He looked too young to have a teen, but then again, he did have some grays sprouting. You cross your arms over your chest, watching Joel scoot the table across your hardwoods. 

You’re staring at his hands, trying to conjure up a wedding ring on his left finger. But there’s nothing. Maybe he did not wear it when he was working. Maybe he just forgot to put it on this morning. Maybe his passive aggressiveness towards you was simply to ensure there was distance between you and him, giving you subtle hints that he was taken. 

He finally glances up at you, stopping in his tracks when he notes your gaze. 

“Somethin’ wrong?”

You have no clue what to say because you are so trapped in your head about him. He’s a stranger, god damn it.

“N-no, everything is okay.”

“Don’t look it.”

“I just was not expecting the coffee table to look so dark against the hardwood,” you lie, pulling whatever you could think of out of your hat, “Doesn’t it look dark?”

Joel looks between the floor and the table, shifting in his stance, “Don’t know bout that.” 

“O-oh okay.”

“Alright, well we got ya all set up now,” He starts to head towards the entryway. You trail behind him like a lost puppy, “I’ll be by sometime tomorrow with that part for the toilet. I’m expectin’ another sandwich for that one.”

You grab your front door as you wave to Tommy as he heads for his truck. He smiles and gives you a head nod. Joel turns back to you, his ears perked up for a sarcastic jab from you.

  You think back to something he said to you earlier. You crack a smile, “What are neighbors for?”

PART 1 COMING SOON!

taglist (ppl who asked to be tagged): @joeldjarin @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @mysaviorjoelmiller @brittmb115 @missladym1981 @jasminedragoon

[kithtaehyung]

mami (m) | myg/knj

title: mami (m) pairing: myg x reader(f) , knj x reader(f) , slight jhs x reader(f)😛 rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; battle rap au , roommates au summary: you somehow have a conversation with yoongi, and you tell your roommate about a date date. note: heavy 00s vibes, this is just the beginning of a collection of parts instead of just a oneshot let’s fucking goooo🦋 note 2: this is pretty unedited lolll if there are mistakes i'm so so sorry! warnings for this part: language, choking, joon in sweats, bathroom s*x, b*ckshots, friendly sp*nks from your roomie🤪, it uhhh starts right out the gate lmfao, hobi in silk and a robe, yoongi is a warning in his own right, light sl*pping, you get called mamiii😗 so if that’s not ur thing i’d skip this series !!, joon is too smooth, a secret fourth guy lmfaoooo, battle rap scenarios! drop date: september 26th, 2023, 10:07pm est word count: 3.7k  mood: here 

-

-

“You like that, huh?” 

Breath short, you can only gasp as the hands you’ve been eyeing all night clutch your throat, a fiendish hum the first response to your satisfied grin.

“Knew you would.” As your delicious captor speaks, you just know he’s fixated on your makeup—at least, the way it’s smearing onto a bathroom mirror that has seen better days. “You all do.” 

Fuck, he knows what he’s doing. Fucking hell, he always knows.

Your lust condenses and slides down the glass in rivers, and with each experienced thrust inside your folds, it’s getting harder, and harder, and harder to see the man wrecking your shit. 

But it’s coming. The end. The coil inside you is screaming and tightening and you know he can feel every potent pulse as you slap the tiny counter with a palm. “Yoongi—”

“You gonna come, mami?” 

Yes yes yes you really fucking are. It’s so truthful that you can’t even voice your agreement in words, your moans higher and higher in pitch the only tell you can possibly give. 

“Then fucking do it.” 

Light bounces from your eyes and rebounds off the mirror the same time your whine does, every limb locking while bare shoulders bang against your reflection. 

“Fuck.” 

You spring right into the ground floor above, eyes rolling so far back you could probably see the way Yoongi’s smirking at your ass if your dumbfounded mush of a brain wasn’t in the way. 

Again, and again, you milk his cock for all it’s worth, spurning him into gripping your bouncing hips with rough hands and faster strokes. Laughs and conversations seep through the door at your side, but you can’t make out a thing as you garble, 

“Yoongi, please—”

“One more.” 

“I can’t—”

“Don’t play dumb,” he tuts. “You won’t hustle me a second time.” 

Busted. 

Your pout quickly stretches into a devilish curve instead, and you hear his sound of approval before you brag, 

“I spent all that already, by the way.” 

Air whizzes past your ears as you’re hoisted upwards, and your mirth reverberates as you’re spun and shoved into the sink, cheap laminate bruising your back. 

Yoongi must also be remembering the time your pussy sucked the soul out of him. After you both made a bet that you couldn’t beat someone’s record time making him come. 

You won half of his prize money that night. 

And that was the night he won the entire thing. 

“You’re lucky I respect it,” he snarls, sweaty fingers gripping your chin as he slings a leg over his pelvis. When he grins, you wanna lick the white off his teeth. “And you’re lucky I made it back the next night.” 

Oh, shit. Did he really? 

Battle rap events usually stack so that everyone gets a chance. How did he get invited back the same weekend? 

Well, other than being a monster on the mic. There’s a reason you can’t stay away from him, and you may or may not admit you get turned on by how effortlessly ruthless he is. 

Lips smushed, you ask with genuine curiosity, “You won again?” 

Yoongi lightly smacks your cheek, chuckling when you grit out a moan. “Nah. The sponsors loved me,” he claims, finally bringing a hand down to guide himself back inside. “So they paid me to come back.” 

“Sick,” you praise through a grunt, fully catching his eyes for the first time tonight. Pushing past the way he fills you so fantastically, you huff out, “That doesn’t happen on south side.” 

“So I’ve heard.” 

“Yeah, apparently west and east side do it a lot. Especially with that guy Randa—”

“Fuck Randa.”

Ah, so Yoongi knows him? You haven’t ventured into the west scene yet, but the one thing you know about it is that dude’s name.

So he must be a beast.

Especially if Gloss himself had some choice words.

At this little slip of emotion, you don’t hide your smirk at all. “Oh? Maybe I will if that’s how you feel.”

The sudden possessive shove of his cock into your folds is delightful, your high giggle pinging off the bathroom walls.

“Fuck whoever you want, princess,” he chides right against your lips. “You’ll always come back to me.” 

“Duh.” You flick your tongue over his plush. “You wouldn’t last a week without me anyway.”

Yoongi pushes into you again, stare heavy and coaxing butterflies from your belly. “I’d manage.”

“As if.”

But even through the pleasure, you still wonder. How are you both having a regular conversation right now? This never happens with him. You’ve wanted it to, but there simply hasn’t been any talk when he’s involved. 

The high from your orgasm compounds with this strange feeling that you turn a little playful.

“What I meant was…” Fingernail poking his tank, you joke with a sly curve, “Guess you must be like, good or whatever.” 

When he looks down, you childishly swoop your finger up to bump his nose. “Ha. Loser.” 

Predictably, Yoongi pauses before only his eyes raise, suppressed emotions hiding behind long dark strands. “Really.” 

And even though you felt him twitch in your core, you’ll spare him. “I don’t make the rules.” 

You think this is when he’ll start ramming into you again, because none of the times you’ve hooked up ever lasted this long. It’s always been quick with him, and never in any other place other than bathrooms or broom closets. 

Which isn’t bad. Just a pattern you’ve noticed. 

But Yoongi huffs in amusement before shaking his head. “Since when were you this weird?” 

“Wow, rude?” Your scoff is full of mock annoyance. “I’ve always been this way.” 

It’s just that no one’s taken the time to get to know you.

“But you’re so…” 

All they care about is one thing. 

Which, granted, is the same in your case. 

It just gets a bit lonely sometimes. 

Offering to finish for him to stiff arm any more incoming awkwardness, you blurt, “Hot? Slutty?” 

“Fast.” 

Oh. 

Did you both just assume the other person wanted it over and done with?

That’s entirely possible considering the first time it happened lasted a grand total of three minutes. Max.

“I mean…” You lean back on your palms, not caring to adjust your very mussed top because your chest finally snags all of Yoongi’s attention. How he’s still hard inside of you is a complete mystery. “I don’t just fuck, you know.” 

“And here I thought we were similar,” he teases, groaning through his teeth when you roll on his dick. Again. 

And again. 

Of course you’re both similar. The only difference is that people dub this guy a sex god and you’re an easy lay. 

But you won’t get into that with him. Not now and probably not ever since you don’t dare even label Yoongi a friend.

Panting, you observe him watching your movements as you switch the subject, “You fucked that one sponsor chick for the invite, huh.” 

And he takes the out hilariously quick,

“Both of them.” 

Of course. Your head kicks back in laughter, remembering that there were two people running the event instead of one. 

Truthfully, you would’ve paid to see that. 

“Can’t stand you,” you lie, the way you chuckle as he slaps one of your tits saying otherwise. 

“Good.” 

As he rubs a rough thumb over a nipple, an announcement blares over deejay scratches and cheers, tugging both of your eyes to the door.

Before things quickly devolve into how they always go.

When you arch forward, his lips devour your breast; when you rock your hips into his, the groans against your chest make you feel alive. 

Your nails claw through his hair before you can’t decide if you wanna rake them through his shoulders or his neck. Here, there, everywhere you can grab, you take hold. 

Suddenly, Yoongi clutches the top of your skirt before thrusting in hard, and his laugh when you whine out a curse strikes your soul. “It’s better that way.” 

It’s always better that way. 

“Agreed,” you murmur, eyes flickering to the janky ceiling before sighing out, “I think they just said your name.” 

“Mm.” 

He plunges into you so hard you see his impish curve imprinted among the stars. 

“Then hurry up, mami. Gimme one more for luck.” 

MAMI 

“Who’s on the menu tonight?”

You hum while peering into your mirror—a much cleaner, brighter mirror than the one you were pressed against a couple weeks ago. “That nice guy I’ve been seeing at the gym.” 

“Wait, what? Are you going on a date date?” 

“Hobi,” you giggle, loving your roommate very much despite the way he just forgets sometimes. “We went through this already.” 

“So… Is that a yes, or.” His laugh blurts out when you throw a middle finger next to your head. “Okay, okay! You can just say it, you know.” 

“I just”—you spot check your makeup before vacating your vanity stool—“You know me. I never do dates.” 

As Hobi leans back on your bed, the way his hot pink robe matches your comforter makes you highly amused. Almost amused enough that you don’t react to his nosy question, 

“Nervous?”

Extremely. 

“Uhm,” you start, all pretenses dropping at the sight of his cocked brow. “A bit.” 

Springing up, your roommate pads over and rests thin palms over even thinner straps of your sundress. 

“What’s got you nervous, love?” 

Pouting, you look out your window before your chin is gently swiveled back forward. Thankful for his insistence, you confess to the only guy that you feel like you can trust, 

“What if I like him?” 

The laugh you get is full of disbelief and pity. “That’s what you’re worried about? Really?” 

When you nod, he chuckles again, but it’s smaller. And more understanding than the first. 

“Pathetic, right.” 

“No, no no,” Hobi starts, sliding his hands down to warm your biceps before squeezing. When he pauses, his expression gives his thoughts away before he can utter them. “Well, a little.” 

“Hoseok.” 

“But! Only because you’re making it seem that way.” He squeezes again before sitting back down on your bed. “If you just let things happen without thinking, isn’t that better?”

Does he really have to flop down to rest his head on his palms? Now? 

Talk about not thinking. 

Whatever. You didn’t expect Hoseok to do that, but he looks hot, so you’ll let it slide. 

And you don’t shy away from his silk-covered package before retorting, “Says you.” 

“Me? I overthink. That’s different.” 

“How!” 

“Don’t think about it.” 

When he winks, you both laugh, and his grin slowly devolves into a smirk before he motions you over with a mere head cock.

And you gladly oblige. 

Because your dynamic with Hobi still hasn’t changed. 

Slowly, you arrive at his knees before mounting the bed at his hips, being steadied over his pelvis as he keeps his prone position. 

“You look hot as fuck, you know.” 

“Mmhmm.” 

“He’s gonna like you for sure.” 

“Naturally.” 

“So what if you end up liking him, too?” 

As he smoothes a hand over the side of your ass, you purse your lips in thought. “Uhh… Feelings? I guess?”

“You can have those, babe.” 

“Not mine,” you correct, knowing yours are too fucked up to share with anyone. Which is exactly why you’re all for the so-called fast title that Yoongi clipped onto your persona. “His.” 

Does the lifestyle you chose come with regrets? Yeah. Complications? Also yes. But at least those hurt less than the regrets and complications actual relationships come with. 

You’re just fine with how things are. 

Which is why you’re scared about seeing Namjoon, because he seems like the type that wants something steady. If you end up liking him, you’re gonna have to choose between options that are vastly different in color. 

Despite all that, you still said yes when he asked you out at the gym last week—while you were drenched, bare-faced, and wincing from the last set you completed to failure. 

Why did you say yes anyway? What drew you in to this guy? 

“If you’re scared of hurting his feelings, then just tell him straight-up,” Hobi advises, pulling you back to the present. “Guys won’t know shit unless you spell it out.” 

Looking down at his perfect features, you fake disbelief, asking the most rhetorical question in existence, “You mean you can’t just read our minds?”

“Baby, we can’t even figure out our own, let alone yours.” 

“You said it.” Fully reassured, you rest on Hoseok’s chest, careful to not smudge your face on his clothes. “…Pity fuck if the date goes wrong?”

“Of course.” 

Your chuckle is soft. “Thank you.” 

“Now get up,” he orders, smacking your ass so perfectly that it offends you. “Before I give you another necklace.” 

“Hoseok!” When his cackles follow you up as you stand, your jaw cannot hinge back in. “Goddamn, you’re bad.” 

“Not as bad as you,” he says, following you out of your room. “Mami.” 

That goddamn nickname. 

Hobi knows it’s a common term. And he knows it’s one you hear from multiple people, especially on south side. Literally nothing new or groundbreaking.

But he also knows it makes you unwell because of one specific person. Because you confessed that you didn’t expect it from them during a fuck and it made you weak in the knees. 

Which caused the same motherfucker to say it over, and over, and over again.

Fucking Yoongi. 

Why the hell is it only potent when he says it?

The psychology of that needs to be studied yet you will completely refuse to be a subject. 

After checking to make sure you have everything, you fish out your phone to double-check the address before calling a ride. 

“Where is it at?”

“Some restaurant on west side.”

“Damn, all the way over there?”

“I’m okay with it,” you assure him, inwardly wincing at the cost on your screen. 

Virtually anything on west side is far from your condo, but that’s partly why you’re alright with going. As much as you get around, you don’t prefer taking people back to your place. 

Besides. No one needs to know where you live unless you really fuck with them.

And it’s only happened twice.

Hoseok’s unconvinced reply cuts your thoughts in two,

“Alright… Well. Lemme know if you end up somewhere else tonight.” 

Smiling, you offer him a warm look, positive that his lean against the kitchen wall would put models to shame. “I always do.” 

“What did I say earlier?” 

“Spell it out for him.”

“Okay, good.” 

When you grin, he does, too. 

And you hope this Namjoon guy at least does well with words. 

Turns out, he does a fucking splendid job with them.

At least, the things this man is saying has you absolutely melting under dim lights, and you haven’t even gotten your drinks yet. 

“You look damn nice tonight, by the way,” he mentions with a dip of his head, fiddling with his napkin and giving you an upsettingly perfect view of his fingers. “I feel underdressed as hell.”

Underdressed? Looking around, you feel like you’re the one that dressed way too formal and you’re in a damn sundress.

You should’ve known, though. The restaurant that Namjoon chose occupies one of the few streets known for its laid-back, easy-going fare. Even you have heard of its unique charm and you reside quite a ways away. 

Before you respond, you remember how you arrived, checking around the small space before spotting him in a booth. And while you loved the lax way he dressed, you were even more charmed when he got out just to greet you with a cheek kiss. 

And the night has been so pleasant that you forget to be worried. 

“Why? I mean, thank you, but why?” 

Namjoon gives his sweatpants-covered thighs a glance. “I dunno. You just look bossed up and I’m like, your errand boy.” 

Your mirthy disbelief leaks out of your grin before he can finish. Watching a nearby table point at their menus to order, you go along with his compliments,

“I mean, I could use an assistant…”

He only smiles at his hands. “Order me around anytime.” 

Cute. 

Maybe that’s why you’re drawn to this guy. 

Even though he’s huge and can lift like a motherfucker, there’s a soft side that he’s got no shame showing. 

Also, as the night goes on, you quickly discover more traits you rarely come across. 

Curious, suave, humble—all of them surprise you in the best way. He’s already let you talk much more than he has, and the two of you have debated on not one, but three topics. Including one that you would have left his ass for if you both weren’t on the same page. 

“Okay, so we agree.”

“Yes,” he responds in relief. “Definitely would’ve rethought this whole thing if we didn’t.”

“Uhh, yeah, because I would’ve walked out and let you pay for everything.” 

“Damn!” Fuck, his grin is charming. “And I would’ve paid it, too.” 

Laughing—and realizing that you’re doing that a lot tonight—you rest a hand on his shoulder, “No, no, I wouldn’t do that to you.” 

Fuck, he’s solid.

“Wait, I’m getting us this time, though.”

“Yeah?”

Holding a round glass up to his lips, he coolly adds, 

“And next time, too.” 

Well. 

There’s no way you’re saying no to that.

“To next time,” you offer, clinking cups and taking a nice sip of your wine. 

Things end with both of you just having dinner—a concept so foreign that it makes you wonder if he wanted something more than a second date. 

But judging by the times he kept stealing glances and the way his curve stayed at a slant, it’s an open and shut case.

It’s always a bit crowded in the front few rows, so it doesn’t bother you to hang back for the first time in awhile. 

Besides, you’re a little late from your date anyway. 

Since nothing else happened with Namjoon—he had to leave pretty quick—you determined that you could make it to another Gloss smackdown. 

After you greet all the people and bodyguards hanging around the front doors, you arrive downstairs just in time to hear the deejay ushering everyone in. 

And based on what you hear, it seems like Yijeong’s got extra volume in his mic tonight. 

“Alright, alright, let’s give it up for our two up here, yeah?”

Everyone cheers as you clap to yourself, leaning against a chilly column and ignoring the stares your outfit gets.

The stage looks quite different from back here, with its huddled occupants talking amongst themselves. While you watch both crews laughing and standing around, you wonder what it would be like to support Yoongi from up there instead of on the ground. 

You really would if he wanted you to.

“I don’t have to introduce either one but I’m gonna do it anyway. Cus that’s the rules or whatever and they both deserve some love. Give it up for my man K Shine!”

You aren’t familiar with him but you support anyway. A tiny whoop leaves your mouth as a big portion of the room shouts, and you watch as the guy nods to the people that came to see him. 

“Oh, we’re showing out, okay. Alright, now let’s hear it for my guy Gloss!” 

In contrast, your energy evolves tenfold, and you gladly yell with the rest of the floor as Yoongi stays piercing the ground at his feet.

This guy. 

Still the same routine.

You always muse that he could look into the crowd once in awhile, especially since his audience is steadily growing. 

If they ever saw his smile, maybe more people would be drawn in wait is he looking up this time? 

Wait.

Despite there being rows and rows between you and the stage, you don’t miss the slight shift in his demeanor. It almost looks like he’s scanning the people in front. 

What’s he doing? Is he looking for something? Someone? 

…He’s not looking for you, is he? 

You’re there quite often and always in the same area, but you didn’t think Yoongi would really notice or be checking for you right now.

…But is he? 

Before you can think any further, the quick blares of an airhorn shove your thoughts away. 

“K Shine, you win the toss,” the middle man on stage announces. Fuck, you think you’d know his name by now, he’s been here a lot ever since the first guy disappeared. “What you got.” 

When the man answers, he stares right at Yoongi’s hooded head, fire flaring up the walls already,

“Mister Big House, Big Car, Big Rings can go first.” 

Oh.

He—

You really fucking regret not being in the front now.

Immediately, the whole room ooh’s, with the middle man pursing his lips and giving the two opponents space. 

Light illuminates the whole stage as both sides back up a bit, heavy cameras set to roll and some feedback ringing through the musty air. 

And you wait with bated breath as the crowd goes quiet. 

Heart stilling as Yoongi holds a mic right up to his lips.

—

—

—

tbc :))) 

—

so.. what do we think lmaooo 🦋 | join the taglist :D

a/n: thank you all for reading! as i don't have too much time to spend on fics nowadays, i'll be heavily considering feedback and excitement around fics to determine what to work on. if you did enjoy, please interact however you can! even a like is okay at this point, but all tags, reblogs, comments, messages, and submissions in the feedback box are super appreciated.

a/n 2: all the names i’m gonna include that aren’t the members (or yijeong lol) are real life battle rappers! k-shine was one of the first ones i ever watched, and he has good aggressive delivery and performance but not too many heavy hitters. anybody i namedrop will have rap battles linked, so here is one of k-shine’s that i remember from back in the day. battle rap is an art form in itself, and i would like to showcase these talented individuals whenever i can.

++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist 

[sanguineterrain]

PLS PLS PLS I'm begging you for the play fighting prompt omgggg sanne I'll love you forever (I already do but that's besides the point)

lmfao I am so embarrassed by this 🫣🫣 totally exposing myself right now but whatevs. hope u like it aud (and others). i haven't written smut in a looong time so. baring my soul rn 🫠

jason todd x fem!reader. warnings: smut, playfighting, roughness (?), sprinkle of dumbification (no one look at me), dom jason but also kinda service top jason, fingering, praise, and CONSENT! bc we consent orally here, sir. 18+ only minors get OUT (you shouldn't be here anyway!!!)

heh. anyway. crawling back under my rock now.

****

"Do you think I could take you down?"

Jason raises his eyebrows at you from over his book.

"Come again?"

"Like in that demonstration Kory and Dick did today. Do you think I could do to you what she did to Dick?"

Jason chuckles, setting his book down.

"Baby, I hate to break it to you, but I think Kory's a little more practiced in combat than you are."

"So you don't believe in me. Wow. Some boyfriend you are."

"Of course I believe in you," he says. "She is a space princess, though."

You shake your head and pluck the book from Jason's hands. You make a point of sliding the bookmark in before you close it. Jason squints at you.

You wait approximately a quarter of a second before you leap forward, straddling Jason's chest. He makes a hup sound as you land, and you lift your chin victoriously.

"I got you," you say.

Jason nods, smile widening. "You got me, sweetheart."

"No, I don't. C'mon, fight back, Jay."

His eyes glitter as he studies you. Then he picks up both of your thighs and swings you both off of the couch. You land with him hovering over you, not even holding any part of you down. His hand is underneath your head to cushion the impact.

You huff. You know Jason can do better than this; you've watched him take down fifteen men in less than five minutes.

You lift your head, mouth parted in expectation. Jason understands immediately and happily complies, kissing you warmly.

You take the chance to hook your leg over his hip and throw him off balance. His hand wobbles enough to tell you that he genuinely hadn't been expecting that. Jason rolls on his side, absorbing the impact. You pounce.

"What's gotten into you?" he asks, smirking as you crawl onto him.

"You're holding back," you say, pinning his wrists down.

Jason looks at you mildly. "I told you I believe in you. You got me, baby."

He could break out of your hold instantly. Even if you were matched in strength and size, Jason has years of experience on you.

Something in your brain goes quiet and gooey at the thought. It fades as quickly as it comes.

"Play with me for real," you urge. "Show me some moves."

Jason presses his lips together. "You sure?"

You nuzzle his cheek, scruff scratching you.

"I'm sure. I trust you, Jay. C'mon, show me what you got."

He laughs, unbearably fond, and crosses his legs around your waist. You lose your grip on his wrists in the next moment, and you end up on your back. Again, Jason doesn't let you feel the full impact that he'd unleash on an opponent. He holds your shoulders when you go down to avoid thumping your head on the carpet.

Your breath still knocks around in your chest, though. The lightheaded feeling returns. You shift, pretending like you're adjusting underneath Jason.

"I can show you how to do that if you want," he says, and it's oddly sweet.

Your eyes narrow. Jason tilts his head, immediately suspicious.

"What're you planning, minx?" he asks.

"What do you mean? I'm perfectly innocent."

"Yeah, sure. I see the gears turning up there." He taps your forehead.

"Whatever, weirdo," you say, and push at his chest. "Let me up."

Jason practically scoops you up into a standing position. You busily dust yourself off even though he vacuumed last week. Jason's apartment is always spotless.

Right when you think he's distracted, you go in for the final attack. You launch yourself in his direction, putting all your weight into the advance.

At first, Jason's thrown off. Briefly, the thought that Jason feels so safe around you that he isn't on constant alert crosses your brain, and you melt at the realization.

Then he gets this glint in his eye, and squares his hips, and another feeling overtakes you entirely. He assesses you quickly, and the two of you push against each other for a few seconds. Just long enough for you to witness the emergence of a different side of Jason.

"My girl plays dirty, huh?" he says, voice pitched low.

Your head spins with how fast it happens. You've unlocked something, it seems, by trying to ambush Jason. He locks both of your wrists into his left hand, spins you around, and splays his right hand over your lower belly. Breath squeaks from your throat. Jason doesn't often remind you of your and his acute physical differences, but his large palm cupping your belly, fingers dangerously close to your waistband, reminds you that your boyfriend is at the top of the food chain when it comes to survival.

If he wanted to take you down, he could. That fact sears deliciously in your brain.

Then Jason goes in for the final blow. He pulls you in by your belly while also wedging his thigh between your legs. His ankle hooks yours, and you feel your balance topple as he pushes and pulls you.

You land on your stomach, Jason's hands still on you, and more than a little of his weight holding you down.

You throb underneath the pajama shorts you never changed out of.

All your air pistons out of you when you hit the ground, resulting in an embarrassing catch between a whine and a wheeze.

Jason's grip slackens immediately.

"Shit, baby, you okay? I'm so—"

"Ngh, Jay."

Jason freezes. His grip tightens, just firm enough to make your head go fuzzy again. His breath is hot against your ear when he speaks.

"Oh," he coos, and now you can feel nearly all of his body weight on you. His thigh is between your legs but only to keep them separated. There is no friction against your pussy, you clench around nothing.

"You like that, pretty? Like a little weight on ya?"

"Jay," you pant, wiggling underneath him. "Jay, please."

"Too much?" he asks, and the check-in just makes you wetter.

"No, n-no, want more. Guh—Jay—"

He laughs, a little cruel, a lot pleased.

"Fuck, honey. If y'wanted this, y'could've asked. Feels good, huh? Lighter? Too much on that quick brain of yours; y'need a break, don't cha?"

You've never felt like this before. You'd be seconds away from humping Jason's thigh if you could move.

"Jay, Jay—"

"Oh-oh, I know, sweet. You put up a good fight. Couldn't believe it was my girl, fightin' like that. What happened at that last part, hm? Your pretty head go empty?"

You whine, squirming as much as you can under Jason's weight. He hums.

"Didn't know how easy you get with a little weight on you. Poor baby, gotta keep your wits about you when all you want is to gush all over my thigh. You gushing yet?"

His fingers on your belly slip past your shorts, past your underwear, finally landing where you want them most. Jason gives your pussy sweet, little pets. He parts your folds, shallowly dipping his middle finger, just enough to make you clench.

"Jason, please," you beg, trying to chase his fingers.

"You wanted to play, right?"

You don't say anything, mind hot and cloudy like you've got a fever. Jason pinches your clit, just hard enough to make you jolt.

"Did the words leave you that fast, sweetheart? I've barely done anything. C'mon, you can do it. You're usually such a smart mouth. What happened?"

"Empty," you manage to say. "'M empty, Jay. Needa feel full."

"Oh, good girl," he purrs, two fingers diving into you pussy. You keen. "Good fucking girl. I can keep you full, don't you worry about that, pretty."

His fingers inside of you sound obscene. You might be embarrassed if you weren't on another planet right now.

"God, you're so wet," Jason says, and he genuinely sounds awed. "Little clit's so hard, I bet you can barely think. No wonder you're so dumb right now. Do I even have to do anything? I bet you'd just hump my thigh till you come."

His hand slips out of your pussy and you protest loudly, thrashing and gasping. Jason hushes you.

"Ah-ah, what happened to my good girl? Know all the blood from your brain rushed to your clit, but you gotta be patient, pretty. You think I'd leave you hanging? Be a crime to leave y'wet and aching."

He pulls your shorts and underwear down in one go, then lifts your hips up, slotting his thick thigh right up against your hot cunt. You immediately start to rub against him, out of your mind with the need to come.

Jason laughs. "What'd I say? I take care of my girl, don't I?"

"M-more, touch me, rub my clit," you pant out, nipples dragging almost painfully under your shirt. The carpet bites at your tits even through the fabric, especially now that Jason's given you room to ride his thigh.

You're still one hundred percent trapped beneath him, his weight pinning you down. Your arms remained locked behind your back.

"Mm. A little bossy, but I like you asking for what you want," Jason says, leaning down to nip at your shoulder.

His hand returns to your now bare pussy, and his middle finger quickly finds your clit. He swipes it a few times, then sucks his fingers into his mouth. You hear him lick them clean before he dives back in, now zeroed in on making you come.

It doesn't take long. You moan loud and long when your pleasure reaches its peak, Jason relentlessly working you over. You squeeze hard around his thigh when you come, brain syrupy and light.

"Oh, fuck, God. Look at you, yeah. That's my girl. Feel better?" he rasps, hovering over you.

You don't have time to reply before Jason flips you over, holding you down like that. He's hard, and his eyes are wild, a beautiful, blazing teal. He looms over you, and you feel inexplicably hunted.

"I think you've got another one in you," he says, pawing at the soft fat of your thigh. "Pretty girl can give me more, right? What'd you say earlier?"

Jason leans in and covers your body with his. The weight on your chest turns your brain to soup.

"Oh, that's right. Show me what you've got."

[mingirn]

tell me it's love

mark lee x reader

genre: smut, some angst and fluff

warnings: dry humping, cumming untouched, childhood best friends to fuck buddies, unrequited love, hidden feelings

word count: 3.6k

notes: first nct fic kinda nervous. there will be a part 2 to this i already have most of it written i just got scared it’d be too long LMFAO

”Do you like it better like this? Or, wait- like this?”

Mark is sitting on his floor in front of the full-length mirror he’d demanded help from both you and Johnny to put up. He’s messing with his hair, it’s been a while since he’s gotten a haircut and this is a new routine. He’ll sit in front of the mirror, arranging his bangs to lay across his forehead, or pushing them back, parting his hair in the middle and on each side, asking for your opinions.

”Mark,” you sigh. ”You keep asking this, but then you still wear your hair like you always do anyways.”

”Yeah, but… it looks stupid, doesn’t it?”

You haven’t even bothered to look up at him. You don’t need to in order to predict what he’ll look like, it’s the 4th night in a row now and you’ve seen it all. Instead, you keep your eyes on your book.

”If it bothers you so much, why don’t you cut it?” you ask.

”And ask Yuta again? After last time? It took me three months to grow that tragedy out, no way!” He breathes out something between a sigh and a groan and slumps down on the floor with a thud.

”Then stop complaining.”

Mark protests with an overblown sigh, but offers no rebuttal. Your focus shifts back to your book now, getting lost in the plot while Mark lies in silence on the floor. His dorm room is nicely lit, glowing warmly from his night lamp and a few fairy lights he’s got set up. The campus has that usual 10 pm quiet, and you know you should drag yourself back to your own dorm room soon but Marks bed is just so nice and soft, and your book is just getting good, and it is Friday.

”You got any space for me up there?” Mark asks, already making his way up and without waiting for your answer he’s climbing onto the bed.

You huff a little from the sudden disruption, but this is also pretty much routine, and Mark quickly finds a resting spot for his head on your shoulder.

”Still the same one?” he asks, as if it isn’t obvious.

”Yeah. If you’d stop distracting me, I might actually be able to finish it sometime.”

It’s Marks turn to huff now. He lays in silence next to you for a while, though it's all but peaceful. Mark always fidgets, he just always seems to be buzzing with something. There are these pressures and expectations packed tightly under his skin and a brain that never seems to shut off. It's Friday, he's got two days of rest ahead of him, yet you know he's probably already going through the schedule for next week in his head.

"Mark," you say, softly and silently.

"Mm?"

"You're squirming."

"Oh, sorry," he apologizes, sounding more like he's sighing. He runs his hand over his face, as if to reset, then sighs again.

You ponder for a moment. Then you speak, "Remember when we got drunk like two weeks ago? I threw up in your bathroom and afterward you read to me to keep me from freaking out."

Mark hums.

"What if- do you want to lay in my lap? You could read to me, and I'll play with your hair. Maybe it'll relax you," you suggest.

"Mhm, yeah, that'd be nice.." he murmurs. He lets you scoot yourself up to make space for him, with the way you're sat against the wall. He lays the side of his head down on your thigh, grabbing your book and bracing it against your leg so that he can easily turn the pages.

"Should I just start here?" he asks.

"At the second paragraph," you tell him.

He clears his throat and starts reading. The back of his head is turned towards you, like this you can brush your fingers through the thick of his hair. Mark sounds sleepy, his voice is low and warm, sounding very soft as he reads out loud. If his hair didn't feel so nice in your hands you think you could fall asleep right here, lulled by only his voice.

His hair really has gotten long. It's been a long time since he's dyed it too, there's some brown left at the tips but most of it is his natural color by now. You card your fingers through it, pressing at his scalp and feeling him melt in your hands.

This is what you like best, you think. Times like these, when it's quiet around you and it feels like no one exists but you and Mark. Like this, like the warmth of his cheek against your leg, the soft strands of hair between your fingers, the sound of his voice filling your head.

Your eyes start to drift a little, first following the sight of his dark hair falling from your hands, then down to his neck, then over the expanse of his shoulders. You rarely let yourself do this, to just look at him. You've convinced yourself that letting your eyes linger on him for more than a few seconds would tell on you. Like he'd be able to look into your eyes and little confessions would float in your irises, that he'd know just from looking that you're in love with him. With his back against you like this you feel shielded, you can let yourself look.

He’s wearing a thin shirt with a wide neckline, it almost hangs off of his shoulders and you’re struck with the need to just touch him. It's like a silent bet, you dare yourself to move your hand down just a little. The tips of your fingers ghost down the back of his neck where his skin is fully exposed. Mark twitches, and you get scared for just a moment, wanting to pull back, worrying that his body is alarmed at your touch. But you keep your hand in place, and he lets you.

His skin is warm under your hand, and there’s still a sliver of bare skin underneath your hand, so you trail your fingers down, all the way to where the hem of his shirt is hanging.

Something in the room shifts. Marks voice stutters and he sucks in a deep breath of air. You can hear it hitch in his throat, and you expect him to ask you what you're doing, for the illusion to break. But he does nothing, just squares his shoulders to lean into your touch.

You keep it light, dragging your fingertips up and down his back, staying outside of his shirt. It's thin enough that you can still feel the heat of his body through the fabric. You can also feel the way his ribs rise and fall with each breath he takes, how it's becoming faster.

Suddenly, Mark stops reading. He draws another deep breath, and from what you can see of his face you notice his eyes fluttering shut. There's a long silent moment where it feels like time stands still. The only thing that is happening, the single action taking place while the rest of the universe stops is Mark turning towards you.

And surely he must know, then. He's looking into your eyes, and doing nothing to avert from them. In absolute silence, he grabs your hand and lays it on his chest. You wonder if the universe has resumed moving yet, or if time is still only yours and Marks.

Mark closes his eyes again, and he squeezes your hand. His instruction is wordless, but you understand it nonetheless. Touch me, he urges.

You gather the courage to move your hand down, coming over the muscles that make up his chest. He’s almost feverishly warm, and you can feel his chest move with every labored breath. You've never touched him like this before, flattening your hand over his stomach and moving over every little inch of his torso. You're really taking him in, learning what he feels like, how defined his muscles are, how broad his chest is.

Marks mouth falls open, and he lets out a low, quiet moan. It heats you, like this hot flash that shoots through your body and makes your chest tighten. It's so bright and hot that it knocks the wind out of you.

Moving solely on instinct, just this thoughtless and desperate urge, the sight of his parted lips has you trailing your hand up his chest, and then along the column of his neck to end up at his mouth. You tap the pad of your pointer finger against his lips once, to test the waters. Mark pouts, chasing your touch. You abide, tracing your finger over his bottom lip and feeling his hot breath against your finger.

”You’re so pretty, Mark,” you tell him. You're not even thinking. Your hands move on their own and so does your mouth.

His eyes open again, so heavily lidded, and for a moment you think he’s about to say something. That maybe his eyes will sharpen and he's going to snap out of this illusion. Instead, he sits up. His gaze is focused on you and there still isn't a hint of hesitation or distress in his eyes.

”Please,” he pleas, only that.

You pat his shoulder, ”What, please? What do you want?”

”I want to kiss you.”

Mark blinks, looking down at your lips as he says it. You should probably stop to ask him if he means it, if it’s just a heat of the moment thing, but he’s so beautiful, and so eager, and his eyes still have not left your mouth. You just lean forward, connecting your lips with his and Mark kisses you back in an instant.

Whatever first kisses are supposed to be, you're sure this isn't it. In the books you read they describe the fireworks, the instant passion and how their lips just meld together. With Mark it's clumsy, he makes contact with the corner of your mouth and pulls back too quickly, then kisses you again before you've regained your breath. You can feel your heart pound in your chest and you swear Mark can hear it, and you wonder if his heart is doing the same. The very tips of your fingers feel cold, your entire body is filled with a heat so warm it's paralyzing and all you can think about is the fact that Mark is still kissing you.

He's not pulling away. He kisses you, again, and again, and again. It makes your heart surge, the fact that he isn't scared off by how awkward it is at first. The possibility of what that means rushes through you like a wave but you forbid yourself to ruminate on it now.

Whatever first kisses are, this isn't it, but it's infinitely better.

Marks hands come up to your neck, curling around the back of it so that he can pull you impossibly close as he parts his lips, swiping his tongue along yours. You have to part for air but he hardly lets you, with the way he keeps his lips just close enough to be ghosting yours.

"Touch me," he whispers into the kiss.

You’re not exactly sure where he wants you, but he releases a satisfactory hum when you trace your hands down over his chest. He leans his forehead against yours and you can feel his breath come out hot and short against your mouth. Spurred on by the moment, you trail your hands even lower to lift the hem of his shirt to touch his bare hips. He gasps at the contact, and a whine builds in the back of his throat, so quiet that you’d be unable to catch it if he wasn’t so close.

He's right above you, closer than he's ever been before and he guides you to lie down. He's laying on top of you now, pressed against you so that you can feel him everywhere. Your hands are frantic under his shirt, rushing to feel every inch of him. Quiet moans continue to slip past his lips the more you touch him, and you wish to swallow them all up.

”Take my shirt off,” he mumbles, barely parting from your lips to speak. It's already hiked up his torso, all you need to do is bring it over his head and your hands tremble when he sits back to let you take it off.

You watch him, breathless, as he sits shirtless in front of you. His hair is messy, ruffled by the shirt and he shakes his head to get it to fall pretty again. Mark leaves little time for you to take in the sight of him bare before he's kissing you again, this time far more passionately.

Somewhere in the haze of it all you've spread your legs, and Mark has positioned himself between them. His hands are as rushed as yours, moving over your thighs and the side of your ass, squeezing at your hips, feeling you everywhere he can. Mark whines, letting out these desperate sounds into your mouth that only quiet down when you wrap your legs around his hips and press him against your body.

Everything about it is needy, neither of you can get enough. Marks hands are everywhere, tangling his fingers into your hair, caressing your face, cradling your jaw, wrapped around your neck. It's like you're making up for all the time you haven't had each other like this. A million touches laced into this one hand on his naked torso, so many words spoken in this total silence.

Mark pulls away, moving to trail kisses over your jaw. A spot in the junction of your ear and jaw makes you gasp once he kisses it, and Mark smiles. He lets out this satisfied chuckle, and there's still a smile on his lips when he puts his mouth on your neck again. He sucks your skin into his mouth, letting his teeth grace ever so slightly against your neck. His mouth feels so good on you, it has little gasps and moans spilling from your mouth. Embarrassment makes you silence them as best you can, but Mark seems dedicated to making you even louder.

He starts to leave open-mouthed kisses down your neck, stopping sometimes to suck your skin into his mouth. He falters by a spot right above your collarbone, just where your shoulder starts, where he sinks his teeth into the flesh. Your body just melts, and you feel weightless, only whispering out his name under hushed breaths.

"Hm, you okay?" he asks, breaking away from the kiss. He comes up to your face again, close like before, where his breath tickles your mouth.

"What?" you ask, before you realize where his concern has come from. "Oh, yeah, yeah. More than okay. You?"

"Me? I'm okay," he laughs. Your heart is beating out of your chest, and your fingertips have still not returned to their normal temperature. It's still the same Mark looking back at you right now, the one you knew as a child, the Mark you've spent every milestone of a lifetime with.

The way he looks at you is new though. His eyes flit from your eyes to your mouth, it makes him look dazed in a way.

"Do you.. do you want to?" He doesn't finish the question. He moves towards you ever so slightly, still focused on your lips. He barely waits for the little time it takes you to rush out a 'yeah, yeah, please' until his lips are back on yours and his hands return to your body.

Something inside of you clicks, bringing you back to reality instead of the swimming fantasy in your head. You become aware of the weight of him above you, and the fact that his lips taste like buttercream chapstick. You can feel his hands on you, fingertips chancing to go underneath your shirt. It has taken until now for you to realize that his hips are pressed against your own, and with your legs wrapped around him, he's so close, so fucking close that through all the layers of clothing, you can still feel that he's hard.

Just the feeling of it has your legs squeezing around him, without really meaning to you push yourself against him. Your stomach swirls and tightens and your own arousal builds as Mark starts grinding himself against you.

”Oh my god, what the fuck," his breath shudders, words spoken into a kiss.

He's not even making direct contact with you but it still feels so fucking good. Marks hand is under your shirt now, his soft fingers tracing your naked skin. His touch feels so good on your body, and he's starting to angle his hips in just the right way, so you can feel his dick right where it feels good.

His voice is hushed and strained, pulling away from you to rest his head in the crook of your neck while he moans your name. You're probably making too much noise, the walls are thin and you worry that anyone walking by would be able to hear the noise inside Marks room. It's only a fleeting thought, easily silenced by Mark groaning, deep and low, so that you can feel the vibrations in his chest.

"Mark, Mark," you whine. He lifts his head and looks at you, but his hips keep moving. "Kiss me, please."

He leans in for a clumsy kiss, his mouth clashing with yours. It's messy, all tongue and teeth, but you can hardly care when his hips rut against yours and his breathing is becoming more jagged. You wish he'd keep kissing you, but when he pulls back and only looks at you, it doesn't matter. You're too enamored by him, watching every microexpression on his face and reveling in his beauty, and what that means for your friendship is something you’re not willing to unpack now.

It feels almost infinite, cosmic in a way, this very second that Mark stares into your eyes. His lips are parted and his eyes are still heavily lidded, there's a blush dusting his cheeks that's spreading all the way down his neck and chest.

"Baby," he gasps, leaning his forehead against yours. His hips stutter, getting faster and needier. He stutters, "Fuck, I'm- I'm gonna cum."

Words shouldn't do this much. His voice shouldn't be enough to make you feel like you could cum untouched but it is, and he keeps mumbling your name the closer he gets.

It's all a haze, your head is just filled with Mark, Mark, Mark and his voice seems to fill every space within you. You can't tell if you cum first or if he does, it's only moments before you're both grabbing onto each other and it feels like there isn't enough air in the world with how breathless you both become. Mark puts his lips to yours, too distracted to kiss but desperate enough that he needs you close.

You feel it out to your very fingertips, and it takes a second for the ringing in your ears to stop and for the air to return to your lungs. Mark is slowing his hips down, riding it out, and he finally kisses you.

The kiss is far too tender and careful for a moment like this. He’s so gentle, just brushing against your lips at first. His hand comes up to the back of your head, burying in your hair as he pulls you in even closer. You drag your hands along the sides of his torso, then curling around his shoulders in a hug.

"Mark," you try to say, muffled by his kiss.

"Mm, what?"

"We have to get cleaned up," you speak, sort of quietly. Part of you somehow believes that there's a barrier to be broken, like if you raise your voice something will exit the room and take this moment with it.

Mark lets out an exaggerated groan as he rolls off of you. The room is still dimly lit, just like before, the sky is still dark outside and you don't understand how everything is exactly the same when you aren't.

"Hm," he thinks for a moment. "Are you.. staying here, or?"

You suck in a breath. Something about the way he asks it feels kind of loaded. You've slept here before, next to him in this very bed, but something about the tone of his voice makes this feel different.

"Why?" you ask.

"Just cause, like, you'd need to borrow something to sleep in."

"Are you saying you'd make me walk to my room like this if I didn't want to sleep here?" you ask, faking upsetness. "This isn't only my cum, you know."

He looks over at you, at the little wet spot on your sweatpants that matches the one on his own.

"Jesus, yeah, sorry!" he laughs breathily, throwing his arm over his face. The whine in his voice is gone by now, but he's still being playful. Nothing in his tone conveys that he's upset, or that regret has set in. You need to stop dwelling on it though, or the deepest parts of your mind will find something to latch onto to ruin this. You can't think about it, any of it, it’s going to mess you up and you know it.

There's a moment of silence where your eyes fix on the ceiling. You steal little glances to the side, at Marks bare skin. You had just been touching him, your fingertips must be imprinted on some parts of his skin. Right now, the only part of him that is touching you is his pinky against yours. He moves it, just a little, like a twitch, and strokes it over your finger.

"So.. you're staying?" he asks.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm staying."

[ch3rriiii-bunn]

Aizetsu and sekido dating black s/o and she has a big ass

(it's been in my head all day) 🤭🫶🏾

Handful

SCREAMING AT THIS OMG THIS IS SUCH A GOOD IDEA I LITERALLY WROTE WHILE DRINKING 💀💀 so my fault if it's a bit off lmfao I added the others bc why not

Warnings: black fem bodied reader, fluff and smut, humor(?), spanking, anal, pain kink? (On Urogi's part)

Aizetsu

Aizetsu, who loves and respects you but tries not to look at your ass but just can't help but admire that physical trait of yours.

Aizetsu didn't want to be perverted but he had a habit of always staring at your ass. He'd purposely walk slower next to you just to have you walking ahead just to take a peek at how your butt swaying side to side when you walk

Aizetsu loves to give you hugs from behind. You're smiling innocently loving his touch meanwhile his intentions are beyond your innocence, he's always having himself pressing on you just to have his cock get  a feel of your soft ass and even sometimes letting out a small groan in your ear

Aizetsu also likes to lay down on your ass as if it were his personal pillow. "Aizetsu baby, you do know there's other places to rest your head, right?" You said, looking back at him, holding your book in your hands. "B-but your ass is just so soft. I only want to lay here. Please keep reading. I won't bother you, " he'll say, having his hands rub the sides of your butt

Aizetsu who likes to fuck you in a reverse cowgirl postion, with his legs open just to watch how your ass jiggles when you bounce on his cock. "S-so good~" he whimpers mixed with moans "y/n you look so pretty for me, just like this" he says with consent praise watching how you do the work and even thrusting his hips up to help you finish

Sekido

Sekido knew you had a big butt. You knew you had a big butt but in the end, it only made him more possessive of you. If one of his brothers dared to look at your ass just to spite him, he's grabbing it, sinking his nails into your butt cheek until you're whining from the pain.

Sekido, who makes it mandatory for you to always be sitting on his lap at the dinner table with his brothers. "But Sekido, there's other places for me to sit," you whispered, sulking in your tone of voice. "I can see that. I'm not blink. You are sitting right here because I said so"

Sekido doesn't hide his stairing problem. When you are in your shared room changing, he'll have his eyes glued on your butt. Watch you jump into your pants to get them on. you'll notice him watching you, chuckling at your struggle. "Those pants don't look bad on you," he smirks, admiring how your butt fits so nicely into the pants

Sekido who likes to always have your face down and ass up for him, with his hard cock inches away from your pussu. "Put it in and Fuck you're on my cock" he says, watching you put his cock inside yourself and throw your hips back taking every inch, moaning his name.

Sekido who grabs a fist full of your braids, not pulling too tightly always making sure not to but just enough to have your head back to hear your moans, watching your pussy swollow his cock but also watches you throw your hips back and smirks at your ass slapping against him each time and can't help but spank your ass as well

Sekido, who pulls out and watches you fall on the bed and messages your ass and even leaves light kisses on where he spanked just to make you feel better.

Karaku

Karaku is already touchy with you. However, since he has an s/o with a big butt hes extra touchy there. Always have his hand on your ass no matter who's looking and loves when you slap his hand away. He chuckles. "What? I can't touch what's mine?" He said,"Not in public... fuck" you say walking away from him but only making him get a better view of you

Karaku's favorite way to cuddle is you, resting on his body with your head by the crook of his neck and his hand resting on your butt. He'll sometimes slip his hand into your pants to grab your ass cheek better. Some days, you don't mind, but when you do, you stop cuddling with him, which makes him whine

Karaku likes to get you see-through panties. "Why can't you just get me normal ones..." you asked, looking at yourself in the mirror. He comes up to you, turning you around for your butt to face the mirror "you've got a pretty nice ass, why not have it being shown off to me in some cute panties, princess"

Karaku who likes to fuck with from behind, with your body laying down on the bed and his hands on your hips making you arch your back for him. "You're so wet for me baby" he moans "I wanna try something" he'll say letting his saliva roll off his tounge onto your hole and slowly shove his cock inside your ass making you gasp "look how well you allowed me inside~" he giggles

Karaku who gives you butt Massages to help ease ant pain you might have, which is always relaxing for you but in the end he's only doing it for himself just to never keep his hands off your butt.

Urogi

Urogi, who slaps your butt whenever he can. Before you could even hit your boyfriend back, he's already flying up in the air, laughing like everything is always a joke to him

Urogi purposely gets you shorts smaller than your actual size because he likes the way the shorts ride up between your thighs and show your plumbed ass cheek. "It doesn't fit at all! You never listen to the size I tell you to get!" You complain looking at him with a sour face. "Aw, don't look at me like that baby," he says and grabs your butt "still looks sexy on you, though."

Urogi, who can't help but also play with your ass like it's some ball when you're lying down on your stomach, making your ass jiggle with his claws or shaking the bed just to watch it jiggle

Urogi who likes to fuck you hard from behind grabbing your ass and purposely making his talons scratch your ass just enough for red lines to form making you moan out. "You're clenching so hard on me cock fuck~ you like that? You're ass looks so pretty when I mark you baby"

Urogi who doesn't always cum inside but pulls his cock out just to cum on your ass watching how it messes you up. "So fucking pretty"

[odetodilfs]

His

A/N: Ok so this fic was born out of a little horny thought I posted here and credits to @emperorj cause it's basically half his idea too! This is the unholiest of the unholiest things I've written, enjoy!

Pairing: power bottom!possessive!Joel Miller x sub!top!male!reader

CWs: SMUT, exhibitionism, shamelessness, marking (hickeys), cum play, rimming (reader giving), blowjobs (reader receiving), use of "good boy", teasing, semi-public sex and established relationship (marriage).

(The original ideas for this story are here)

PLEASE REBLOG AND SUPPORT YOUR WRITERS

You’re his

Joel had spotted a guy dumb enough to flirt with you… 15 minutes later, Joel was sitting on your face. Desperately and ferally riding it as he screamed out your name, letting the world know you were his.  

“Y/n! Fuck yeah! Keep licking that hole!” he screamed out, probably your neighbors would have your names tattooed into their brains the next morning. But you didn’t care, you liked Joel showing everyone you were his. Joel was a shameless man after the outbreak, not caring about his marks on you, sucking you off in public, overall just not really caring, at all, the commune grew worried about you, they were worried if he was hiding something behind closed doors, treating you terribly.

In reality, outside of sex Joel was an amazing person, very caring for you and always being very physical, looking for kisses and hugs. He could also be soft in the bedroom, it wasn’t unusual that he was like that actually, but some other times, Joel became rough, extremely rough and feral. That happened when he felt like his claim on you was in danger, so when someone flirted with you, he took you to your home and claimed you, saying his ass will be the only one you cum in. That he’s the only one who can make you cum so good. That he’s the only one that will hear your moans.

Marks 

Joel loved marking you, especially with hickeys and he didn’t let you cover them up, he wanted the commune to know his ownership of you, so no one would even try to flirt with you. People even grew a little worried at some point, was he hurting you? Were you really consenting to this? The answer was yes, your neck was covered in hickeys, you knew you were Joel’s, and you liked that, in fact, Joel would also leave hickeys in places like your thighs, no one would see them but him, which was another kind of hot. 

Now, Joel didn’t have a good ass for no reason.. he had it to tease you, to make himself irresistible to you. Sure, you were the top 99% of the time, but the one who really had the control was him. You were his service top, to satisfy him and please him. Not just that, he also loved you so dearly, you’d been married since before the outbreak, which was part of the reason he was so possessive of you. After the outbreak, many people tried to find pleasure with you and Joel constantly got jealous because you were his, didn’t they see the ring on your finger? So ever since after the outbreak, Joel’s way of telling you you’re his has only gotten more feral…

Everyone knows..

Everyone knows the kind of things Joel does with you in public, more than once has someone heard him slobbering on your cock, or your moans when he takes your dick to the base in his throat. He wouldn’t do it out in the open street, he’s not that careless. But when he gets needy in public, he pulls you into an alley and does what he wants: you’re there for his pleasure, if anyone tries to flirt he gives them a death stare, and when you get home… he reclaims that little bit of lost ownership.

He always walks out of these alleys in front of you, your eyes lazily glued to his ass as your cum is all over his face, he only wipes it what a single run of his hand across his face can wipe. He just seriously doesn’t care, and with showers and water needing to be rationed, it’s not rare that sometimes you’d smell like each other’s cum (yes this is taken from Silva lmfao but it’s hot). 

When he walks out of an allie, holding a tired you’s hand, he smirks with a cum covered smile at every person who once tried to flirt with you, they can see you’re his, sometimes if he’s feeling extra eager to show off, he’ll lift you in his arms and carry you home, no matter how much you tell him he doesn’t need to.

He’s not forcing you though..

In non sexual moments between you two, he asks you if you want to keep this up, that he’s sorry he goes so feral and possessive of you, but you enjoy it, you really do, you enjoy being his. You’d do anything to hear him call you a good boy while you eat his ass, it’s your favorite feeling. You like being edged for hours by him, or getting milked by him while he keeps telling you how much of a good boy you’re being for him. 

Sometimes, you have soft, loving sex with each other even, it’s nice to have a break from your kinky sex and just let your fucking be spurred by pure love. 

He knows what you like..

Joel uses what you like to make you even more needy for him. He knows you love seeing your cum leak out of his hole, to overfill it with your load, letting you lose yourself toying with his cum filled hole. You’re always so eager to fill him up.. his ass is too much to resist. When you two go out, you sometimes see a wet spot on the back of his trousers and you instantly know that’s your cum.

He knows how much you like to eat him out, how needy the sight of his legs spread and his hole showing can get you. He gives you it, lets you lick and suck desperately at his hole, using your tongue trying to taste him as much as you can. As he always says when you eat him out “Fuck, you’re such a good boy…” 

Joel liked showing that you were his, and who were you to deny him of the pleasure when you loved it so much too?

[love4jhene]

nsfw alphabet | chris sturniolo😛

omg this is kinda awk, ive never written smut or anything related to smut but wtv i think off i start writing it, these r my preferences abt chris sturniolos nsfw alphabet 😭

A= after care (what there like after sex😼)

i feel like chris isnt big on after care, cuz ooo girl after he hits his high he can already feel the wave of tiredness come rushing over him, the second his head hits the pillow hes out like a light, but dont worry hell take care of you whenever he wakes up😛

B= body part (there favorite part of your body (his body too)

he guves me the vibes that hes a breast guy, and a thigh guy hed be staring 24/7 cuz there cs smack dap in his face?? his favorite body part of his are his hands, cuz he is able to touch every inch of your body with the palm of his hands👍🏿

C= cum (what does he do with it??)

ik hes a guy that likes to cum on your face, maybe give you backshots??? or js fill u right up!🤠 (only if your on the pill duh) he doesnt like to make a huge mess since it ends up in HIM having to wash the sheets but then again its for pleasure, if you want him to cum on your face nd shit hed do it within the moment you finished saying it😉

D= dirty secret (something that you dont know about until he tells you)

chirs definitely has a mommy kink and enjoys it when you pull on his hair, its not a bad secret but its more of an embarrassing secret. it gets less embarrassing when you do it more often to the point he just wants you do to it when your out in public.

E= experience (how many bodies?)

he has never had proper sex until you, ik he was a lil player😝 but it never got that far it would only be making out, and some grinding ykyk, but yeah nothing like what you guys have done besides one time hes had a actual p in v prodution.

F= favorite position (what position is the go to?)

he LOVESSSS it when you ride him LOVES IT, cuz hes able to see those big melons bounce😏 LMFAO and because hes able to see you struggle bouncing on his cock. if you arent able to then hed be grabbing your hips guiding you!

G= goofy (are they cracking jokes?)

hes definitely the type of guy to make a joke here and there, but not all the time cuz thats kinda awk.. but he’d definitely make jokes about his brothers walking in and blah blah blah

H= hair (do the drapes match the carpets? is that how it goes idfk😭)

imma keep it a buck w you. hes probably not big on trimming cuz hes too lazy or sum LMFAOO but he trys his hardest so you dont get grosses out, and he definitely likes a shaved cooter ykyk cuz he likes when yr able to feel his stuble down there WOAH

i= intamicy (how are they in the moment?)

he knows he wants to me all lovey but he cant help making jokes about your moans heres an example. hed make fun of you for saying “its to big, it wont fit!” then a couple seconds later your asking for more hed mock your moans fs😂.

J= jack off (how often?)

i feel like if he tells you hes horny and you say no hes straight up start jacking his shit while your right next to him, but no he doesnt do it often since he claimd he does wanna seem like a “wild animal” thats a horny 24/7, only when hes on tour and he cant help it

K= kink (what are some kinks, IDK WHAT TO PUT)

he defo has a breeding kink, the thought of him “filling you up” gets him so hard for some reason and hed tell you about it while straight up stuffing you, balls deep bro ik this man thinks about you pregnet with his kids😪

L= location (what places does do you guys do it the most?”)

he doesnt likes taking risk. i said what needed to be said, if his brothers arent home, hed wanna do it on the kitchen counter or the couch, but mainly the bed cuz hes able to knock out like a light as soon as you guys are done

M=???

N= No (whats a turn off?)

ANYTHING to do with piss or body liquids😭 he would walk OUT THE HOUSE if you suggest anything of that sort, also being rough with you where it gets to the point it comes to slapping, choking, js being rlly rough in general.

O= Oral ( uhm idk what to say)

hes big on oral, if he could he would stay in between your legs for hours, days, weeks, years. he loves pleasure his lil princess😛 he also loves when he sees YOU between HIS thighs, him pushing your head down ykyk and most of all he loves it when he covers your face w his cum

P= Pace (how fast? how slow?)

he can change between paces. you want him to go fast? hell go as fast as he can, you want him to go slow? anything for you!

Q= quickie (does he like them?)

he isnt big on them cuz if you guys are gonna have sex he wants it to last, only if its needed and if your lookin supa sexc he cant take his eyes off ya😉😏

R= risk (does he take em?)

hes a risky fella and he likes to break the rules! he wont go to to far tho.

S=??

T= toys

why need toys when you got each other.

u=??

V= Volume (how loud is he)

MANS IS A GROANER AND HE DOESNT CARE, he is loudddd and hell let every one know what yall are doing he does NOT contain himself.

w=??

X=x ray (WHAT R UNDER THOSE PANTSSS)

hes defo big and he knows it, id say rougly like 7.5 soft?? 8.2 hard?? idkk thats what im getting😭

y=??

z=zzz sleep

i alr said it out as soon as he hits the pillow he is OUT but he will take care of u in the morning, he needs his beauty sleep

i hope u guys enojoy this was a pain in the ass to write but its a okay!

[yuebings]

fic writer meme

thank u @fruitdaze @uhuraisgay @cairoscene @englishsub for tagging me!

How many works do you have on Ao3?

44 currently! double 4s? during MY lunar new year? i gotta change that up quick

2. What's your total Ao3 word count?

315,042 words

3. What fandoms do you write for?

my most written-for fandom is mdzs, but i don't really write for it anymore...if you look at my ao3 profile u can kinda tell i'm a sporadic one-and-done type when it comes to fic hehe no one can predict where i'll go next. my latest fandom is jujutsu kaisen!

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

so you've been robbed by a musuem

the stone-filled sea

the family-dodging bathroom-dwellers association

and his wanting grows teeth

diving blind

it's like a wangxian sweep except for the last sambucky lol

5. Do you respond to comments?

i am trying to get better at that! sometimes i don't have the energy to go through and respond to every single one but trust me when i say that seeing the wonderful comments people leave truly makes my day

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

tbh i don't think i've ever written straight-up angsty endings (or at least the way i see straight up angst). every 'bad' ending has a ray of hope in it, or at least an acceptance that like...yes, this is the way it was meant to be, and to reject the outcome would be to reject everything that came before it. sometimes things were meant to go to shit. there was no other way to go. we were doomed but at least we loved each other. i will suffer but at least i can remember you. so on so forth.

with all that said, it's a toss up between the longest journey (di feijing & lei chun), or all things in pain (wen ning character study). 'angsty' endings, if only in the way i described above

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

a lot of my happy endings aren't super-sweet happy endings per se, but rather a promise or hope that things will get better. idk what that says about me lol like maybe i have more interest in the "how to become happy" part than the actual happiness itself...? but ANYWAY i'd say the sappiest ending is i have is uhhhh feel like a brand new person (msr take edibles together) because 1) their mutual attraction is finally acknowledged 2) they're making out 3) they're high as balls. what's better than this

8. Do you get hate on fics?

not any time recently! i've rarely had negative comments before and all of them have been of such a ridiculous nature that my only response was like "lmfao ok"

9. Do you write smut?

nope! not yet, at least. maybe some time in the future i'll feel like it

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you have written?

haven't written any, don't really read them either! i keep my blorbos locked up in their separate cages. siloed.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

yes! kind of. if this counts, a couple years ago someone on wattpad stole over 100 wangxian fics (including mine) from ao3 and reposted them onto their own account without credit. we got their account taken down tho so all is well...but this is why i say in my ao3 profile that i do not allow reposts. please tell me if u ever see my work reposted anywhere........

i've also come across a fic in a diff fandom that was VERY clearly "inspired" by one of mine (lifting certain scenes and lines beat for beat) and gave no credit. so there's that as well.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes! it's always an honor when someone wants to translate my work :)

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

nope! my creative process is so erratic that i feel like i'd be a nightmare to co-write with, so this is probably for the better

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

this is a hard question to answer. i don't have an ultimate favorite that always stays at the top of the pile, cuz my interests change all the time! right now i'm really enjoying platonic yuuji & megumi & nobara & gojo. in terms of what i go to most often when i want a comfort re-read...finnpoe.

15. What is a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

omg. you want a DEEP CUT? i have a wip for a rarepair in an already sparse fandom...yeongshin/seobi from kingdom on netflix (the historical korean zombie drama). i LOOOOVE that show i comfort re-watch it all the time. i love their bonded-thru-trauma-frenemies healer/warrior dynamic and i have this wip going for yeongshin getting bitten and seobi developing a zombification-reversal cure through sheer willpower and spite alone........there's maybe 2k written and i was relying on a season renewal announcement to motivate me enough to get the rest of it out but uh. fellow kingdom warriors if you're out there. i think we may be losing this battle............kingdom season 3 announcement save me..............

16. What are your writing strengths?

as a haver-of-siblings, i think i do general family dynamics pretty well! someone has told me in the past that i am good at packing meaning into very few words. i also think i'm good at angsty emotional beats (i sure like writing them, at least)

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

bro if there is any action scene in my work, writing it is like pulling teeth. what do you mean he's getting hit. what do you mean i have to think of an interesting way to describe punch #1 and punch #2 and punch #3. STOPPPPPPPP I CANT DO THIS.

in terms of technique i used to struggle with this thing where i NEED to perfect the writing i'm working on before i can move on. like i'd waste huge amounts of time rewriting a three sentence paragraph over and over and over again until it was perfect before i could move onto the next scene. i'm getting a lot better with that tho!

18. Thoughts of writing dialogue in another language in fics?

i've never done it myself, like, full on written-in-a-diff-lang dialogue, but i think it's cool as long as context clues/some form of translation is provided. and if proper research is done if the writer isn't a native speaker

19. First fandom you wrote for?

the man from uncle (2015). lol. napollya could have won in an alternate universe where armie h@mmer wasn't a piece of shit

20. Favorite fic you have written?

HOO. i gotta say it's my sambucky ghost fic the boy who cried ghost. it's by far my longest fic (even tho it isn't actually very long compared to others ive seen LOLLLL) and it took me AGES to write and ended up being quite personal!! part of the reason it took me so long to finish was bc i couldn't bear to write about sam struggling with grief/guilt when i was also going through something similar, so when i finally got around to writing the moment of catharsis i kinda felt like i was helping myself, too! which was a very interesting experience, and definitely served to lodge this fic in my heart forever and ever. it's not exactly popular but i'm proud of it :)

tagging @tantai-jin @bluecrystalrainingdaggers @vinelark and anyone else who wants to participate!

[b-ritney]

MY FAVS LIST PT.2

for some reason every time I try to add a new fic to my original favs list it says there is an "Error processing my post" *rolling my eyes* I have so many fics to add to the list tho, get ready to add some new HEAT to your TBR :)

PART 1 You DO NOT want to miss these

mostly Stranger Things and Avatar lmao

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sleepy and Needy in Steves Lap by @lunarzstarz SMUT

Oh my f'ing GAWD, this is *chef's kiss* this writer is SO talented.

she's gonna save me by @newlips Fluff

Bestie im on my knees. You killed that fr, mechanic Eddie never disappoints. :) THIS IS A 2 PaRt SeriES so far!!

as long as you need by @lilacletter SMUT

As promised I was FINALLY able to add this to the list! :) I love the kindness and attentiveness the writer portrayed in Eddie it's so PerFecT, this writer is sooo talented! Get ready to MELT like a popsicle in JULY.

You Give Love A Bad Name by @cinemaquinn SMUT SMUT SMUT

Also as promised I was finally able to add this to the list :) come get ya'll JUICE!!! I am LIVING for the breaks in his dominant demeanor. Like even though he's a dick he still wants her to feel good and be comfortable. BUT THE ENDING TORE MY ASS UPPPPP girllllll it's soooo good!

Ok i had to come back and add more to this bc i've now read it 3 times.

You know when you're looking for that perfect dynamic in a fic that is the sexiest to you? This is that for me. Like you can tell that even though he is cocky and has the rockstar persona when it gets down to it you can tell he genuinely cares that she is comfortable and enjoying herself. and the CHECKING IN had me giggling and kicking my feet like... he is giving me whiplash in the best way... its like a fatal attraction, he draws you in with the bad boy persona and then switches up and is all sweet and caring and then goes right back to the bad boy. I'm so excited to see how the next part goes.

Lets Go Dont Wait by @carolmunson spicy Fluff

Girl... you've once again blessed me with a masterpiece, I'm officially dubbing it a New York Times best-seller

Check out @pandorxx and @tiredmamaissy for some KILLER avatar smut... I mean both of these writers are so talented... and the content they serve is *bitting my knuckles* SO PeRfecT.... if you love ten-foot-tall, blue, SHREDDED cat people then they've got you covered fr fr <3

Satiate me by @zujime SMUT

hehehehehe this is.. hehehe sensational... we love a tired, hazy dick down... at least I do. *cries in virgin* Listen... The casual dominance had me at attention like YES SIRRRRR when he goes, “Open up for me, yeah?” and “Tongue out, baby, come on.” I was GONE. seriously fabulous work <3

Just call me Mr.Munson by @bimbobaggins69 SMUT

Listen the idea of sucking dick has never been appealing to me.. only just recently have I discovered this itty bitty part of me that might like it a little... but THIS, this has given me a whole new perspective lmao consider my horizons broadened, and the idea not completely off the table LMFAO <3 awesome fic

Eddie Shotgunning blurb by @wndalovebot SpICy <3

Doing this with someone is in my top 3 fantasies lmao you should have heard the scream I scrumpt lmao I am a fucking fool for this. You know what I would do if this ever happened to me.... I honestly don't know... but my knees are weak just thinking about it. Sooo Good! <3

Steddie Tattooing blurb by @idkmanijustwannawrite SMUT

Y'all already know this was being added immediately, lmao this first time I got a tat was a religious experience bc I discovered so much about myself lmaooo I was like "you know what would be good with this???" ...Head... all these thoughts were internal. Don't worry I have some semblance of decency lmao then I found out that there is a whole community of people who think the same thing on here lmao all jokes aside, this is so so so good go give it a read, show the author some love, you will not be disappointed. <3

Mafia Eddie by @oneforthemunny

This shit has me giggling like a fool, I can not talk enough about how talented this writer is, I am on my knees fr queen. It's the type of writing you read over and over and NEVER get tired of. <3 Mafia Eddie does something to me frrrrr.

Jake Sully x Bimbo gf by @coffeeandbookskeepmealive SMUT

This keeps me up at night lmao I'll be so for real I'm in between finals rn and I read this before taking my next test... I can't tell you how many times I've read it already.... I'm not normally into the lil housewife type thing but BRUH this had me crossing my legs and giggling fr. What I like about this is that it fits the prompt but Jake doesn't dehumanize her for being lil slut for him. He still treats her nice and wants her to feel good and that makes me FERAL. Go show this writer some love! <3

The Truest Statement by @newlips 18+

I know this isn't necessarily fan fiction lmao but this is going to live in my head forever... lmfao 'big stretch' bruh i'm gone I blacked out.

Something Extra by @luveline SMUT

This was in my first favs list but the damn link broke at some point so I wanted to put it here again because it is sooo good and deserves proper recognition!!! putting my old comments below :)

It's the way he so sexily explains what he's gonna do to the reader and asks if it's ok and everything, we love a respectful man UGH actually though it is so so so so good.

I Need Something By @hellfiremunsonn SMUT

This is the first time I've seen an author (yes an AUTHOR you are so talented <3) mention a lil panic moment after sex which is more common than people might think, there are so many emotions flooding your system at once. and HOLY F this was just all-around amazing... when he "hey hey hey baby you're okay." My cheeks got HOT fr. <3

The "yes" Policy by @pinkrelish Fluff EVENTUAL SMUT

I have mentioned this before but I am just now on the last part and I want to tell the author with all honesty... your writing style blows my mind I was enthralled in every sentence and I could read this over and over and over... you are beyond incredibly talented.. this is the type of story that could EASILY become a brilliant movie and YOU did that! I really hope you are proud of yourself bc all jokes aside this series is a masterpiece. EVERYONE should read this.

Rabbit Food by @oneforthemunny SMUT

The truth is that I need to go through and write a commentary on all your master lists bc everything you write is gold but for some reason this week DILF Eddie has me in a fucking chock hold. Also, new kink unlocked... thank you. LMAO This is another author I can't recommend enough! <3

us versus them by @myosotisa SMUT

You should know I will be back to read this over and over and if I could leave 1000 hearts I would bc GOOD GAWD this did something to me fr fr. This part in particular:

"Did so good for me, sweetheart.

So pretty, so perfect.

Come back to me, baby. Nice and easy."

yeah, I died a little. As in I blushed so hard I had to get up and walk away to cool down. Take a bow bc you DID THAT!!

Phone Sex Operator Eddie by @bimbobaggins69 SMUT

pt. 2

Lord have mercy. Let me start with, this is relatable af bc not only can I not talk to men in person but I can barely make phone calls LMFAO. This is a 2 part series so far y'all come get you some this is such a cute idea.

Sort of similar... I got a phone call from a military recruiter that is always trying to get me and my friends to join the Marines and his voice was so sexy I just ended up flirting with him the whole time (respectfully). Then we found out it's the same marine that we see in person at the mall all the time lmao so I've met this dude in person bahaha (once again respectfully.)

I fr was like "oh haha I wish you could see who you're talking too, the military wouldn't want me." BAHAHA my ass was FISHING for compliments BAHAHA

TBC... <3

[sunlightandsuffering]

warlock anon ✋

i've taken on so many identity forms through your anon asks over the years and my most recent ones aside from being the anon thirsty for warlock anon are:

a) the teacher who said 'slay'

b) the one who wanted to pursue grad school because of you...ik this because i was a lurker during your pandemic era

c) petname & sexual comedic banter truther ✋😌 this is my consistent personality lol there's a lot of us here

anyway. job applications did not pop off today, but i read captain eren au now, just before my evening shift in half an hour lol and...y'know i agree with the twt anon on the 'most different eren' part. i think the word/world building in this one is more stretched out than your previous pieces, too. that's why i didn't expect that it'll only be for two chapters, since it's context-heavy. im not sure, but the writing style & pacing seems a tad different too! maybe you intentionally did it to fit the theme?

i did read the angry/overprotective captain eren drabble before chapter 1, so im all here for the stress (specifically, eren's stress) that is to come in the next chapter lmao like yes, i already have the assurance that he has reasons for his POV + he will rightfully be worshipping her, so i can look past him being a misogynistic dolt for now 😭 although i do want to smack him lol

also, i did NOT miss how you incorporated breast worship mhmm 😌 that's our jaeger, right there. he needs to give her the lys' chapter 2 equivalent of ✨'kisses and pats as she snuggles on his lap'✨, all for the shit he said to her in chapter 1 🤕😤 i need to see big strong angry man baby his...well, baby

AHAHAH THAT'S SO FUNNY!! UR A PERSON OF MANY NAMES!!

OMg i kind of agree with u about the world building I have to add in a lot of context!!! Especially in Eren's POV so far it's a lot of context, tbh it MIGHT stretch longer than two it's just when i originally posted it for smut week I didn't really expect it to get away from me like this lmfao. 😂

I wouldn't look at is as misogyny i'd look at it like misplaced jealousy lmfao. He CAN'T HANDLE her being better than him HE CANT !!!!! but yes don't worry there will be reluctant affection lol, idk tho maybe this one won't be for u bc he's still gonna be mean. 😂😂 just with his love and affection sprinkled in

[kithtaehyung]

busted (3tan) (m) | myg

title: busted  pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) , jungkook x reader(f) series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: when things go a bit south at your house party, decisions between you and yoongi have to be made. note: well. here we are, y’all. it’s been quite a long time, but we are back to regularly scheduled programming :’)) thank you to everyone that has supported and encouraged me throughout this whole process – and series, for that matter. i couldn’t have done this without y’all and the next part is already in the works. also i cried a lot writing this lol have fun! note 2: happy birthday, hedgehog! and to colourless and nicki and whoever else had birthdays recently, consider this my gift to y’all! warnings: language, the amount of content itself fck i’m so sorry, parties, alcohol consumption, tense situations, shoving, abandonment mentions (parental), obligatory yoongi on the phone, ch*king, head/hair pulling, reader has a pain kink and it shows oops, angst, overthinking :((, penetrative s*x, chains but come on now, protective s*x, cowgirl, or*l (m/f rec), edg*ng a ha ha, thro*tf*cking, kissing :’))), kissing D:, did i say angst?, bro😵‍💫, but also bro😭, jungkook gets a warning too, yoongi’s jeans are as ripped as he is heyo, hitting from the b b back, yoongi king of consent sheesh, multiple org*sms, spitting lmfao, sl*t/wh*re mentions, yoongi jfc lol, the aftercare y’all i–😭, the ending🧍  drop date: june 9th, 2023, 7:17pm est  word count: 18.8k gdi

-

-

Here goes nothing and everything.

It was fifteen years ago when you first met Jungkook. When the sidewalks in your neighborhood were fewer and the occupancy in your house was higher. 

A tiny boy, he was immediately ready to stay by your side, despite the limited amount of time he got to hang around before his parents corralled his energy back inside their car. 

Later on, he would tell you that had something to do with them not wanting him influenced by your brother and his group. But you didn’t know that at the time. 

Ever since the two of you met, you became the best of friends. And as you grew older, it was only natural that feelings bloomed with everything else. 

In the midst of an ever changing garden, you found something that never wavered, vibrant in color and immovable at its root. 

Which was strange. You’d never compared people to flora before him. 

But, because of Jungkook, you couldn’t help but see everyone as such—lilies, buttercups, the ones that trap to survive. 

And he was the prettiest, strongest flower of them all.

There was rain. There were storms. But with them came hope, and a pair of cheap rings that the two of you bought nestled nicely in boxes, waiting to be unearthed when you were ready.

However. 

What also came was a lesson. One that you would learn again when two of every seat remained unused in your household. 

A lesson that people are more like seasons than flowers.

They change with or without you. 

And they pass by.

“We can go somewhere quieter if you want,” Jungkook offers. And you know he’s going to suggest your room before he even utters the words.

But of course he adds a small, “If I’m allowed in there anymore.”

When he laughs, your smile is as slow as your head shake, a few memories of old tasting bittersweet on your tongue. “We can.”

“Okay.”

When you make your way to your room, you hear the thumps of music and rhythms of conversation—both casual and loud—echoing throughout the house. Some people are sharing laughs, others are scooting just a bit closer, and a lucky one is cackling before demanding that everyone hand over their money. 

All of them oblivious to the fact that you’re about to rip off a piece of your heart.

Well. That may not be the case. But based on the conversation that you had with Jungkook before your interview, this wasn’t going to be an easy one in the slightest—not for him, nor for you.

But if he’s gonna keep pushing forward, this is a stop you need to put up regardless.

During a party isn’t what you had in mind, though. Much less one in your own house.

You don’t know if anyone sees you open your door for Jungkook to pass through, or if they notice the slump of your mood, but you figure no one will care anyways. 

Until you see someone out of the corner of your peripheral.

And the skip of your heart tells you who it is.

Occupying one of the hallways a ways away, you can tell he’s very aware of you despite being in the middle of a chatty group.

But what’s on his mind? Is he worried? Is he gonna ask what this is about?

Damn it. You’re just gonna have to tell him later. You can’t exactly do anything now. 

A voice peeps from behind your tense shoulders,

“You okay?”

Fuck. 

Turning, you nod to the boy in your room before shutting your door, giving one more look to the man whose last text you couldn’t read.

And the way he stares makes you wanna bolt from everyone entirely.

When your door clicks shut, you slowly swivel, only the bass of your brother’s music pushing the walls in closer. 

Jungkook’s doing exactly what you knew he’d do, wandering around your room and either leaning in to observe, or lightly touching things that he remembers. 

The soft puff of a laugh snaps you into focus. “I can’t believe you still have all his medals up.”

Ah. He even remembers the way you have all your brother’s trophies and achievements displayed—all because you liked seeing them shine, and he didn’t want them in his room.

Sweeping your gaze along two of your walls, you let out a tiny sound of amusement while agreeing, “I can. Too lazy to take them down.” 

“I can do it,” he immediately responds. “If you need me to.”

If it had been five years ago, you would’ve been enamored that he even offered.

But five years ago is when he shattered any hopes you had for the two of you, so you turn him down yet again. “It’s okay.” 

“You sure?”

“We’re here to talk, not decorate, Jungkook.”

He stares before nodding in dejection, eyes finding something other than you. “It’s still weird to hear you say my name.”

It’s weird to say it. 

But you can’t let him know you agree, so the sound you make is half-cautious and weakly lighthearted. “You think so?”

“Ah, yeah.” He flashes a smile that still squeezes air from your lungs. “I’d gotten too used to all the names you had for me.”

“Oh, god.”

“But I guess someone else gets to hear them now.”

Goddamn it. He’s not gonna give up, just like he said right before your interview. 

“Who are you seeing?” 

“Kook…” 

“I wanna know.” 

“Why?”

He walks over to your nightstand, picking up a picture of you and your friends from years back. 

And your heart pangs at how big his back has become. 

Without turning, Jungkook lifts his head to stare at your ceiling. And if he’s wondering whether the glow stars he stuck all over it are still there or not, you don’t know if you’d admit that you never took them down. 

“So that I’d know if I still have a chance.” 

“You already had yours,” you whisper. “Remember?”

And when you look up, he’s already staring at you with regret. 

Memories start to come back, but you shove them away with force, trying to empty your sinking boat with a teaspoon. 

Every time he had walked back from school with you, every time he would make you laugh when you felt alone, every time he stayed at your place when your brother had to be out—all of them competed with each other to punch you in the gut and push you to your knees. 

“I do,” is all he says before softly placing the frame on your bed. “I fucked that up, didn’t I.” 

The times he said he’d be there when you needed him, the times he said it was gonna be okay when you struggled with your seemingly deepest darkest secrets. 

All the times you knew you’d have a long future with him. 

“You did.”

Everything leading up to the time he said you should break up before you left for university.

Right before you were going to tell him you loved him.

Your heart hasn’t beat in awhile, but you don’t notice until Jungkook starts walking towards your planted feet. Was he really so far away? How did he cover the distance between so fast?

With a sigh occupying your chest, you muse that he looks so different, but also not different at all. 

And just like the time you saw him downtown, your brain doesn’t know how to separate the Jungkook you knew from the one you see in front of you. 

Because they are still the same.

You don’t budge as he stands resolute, inches away but encasing you in his familiar presence. When his hand comes up to your face, he almost touches—but the slight hesitation has you holding your breath before he surrenders his hand at his side. 

“I was an idiot,” he admits, throat seemingly small and making yours the same size. “I never should’ve… I can’t believe I…” 

You watch as he flips his head up, and you hate how you know exactly what he’s trying to hide. 

But your soul still remembers the wound it was dealt. So while you don’t want him feeling this way, you’re perfectly okay to fight back. 

He doesn’t get to cry when he’s the reason for all those tears. 

“And yet you did,” you remind him, proud of how stable your voice leaves lips that used to seek his. “And you left me so fucking confused.” 

“I know.”

“Do you really?” 

He flickers regretful eyes your way, giving you all the room to talk. 

And you’re going to.

“Do you actually know, Kook? How fucked up that made me feel right before going where I knew nobody. No one.” 

His nostrils flare while eyebrows flinch. 

You expel a tough breath, everything that happened before bubbling up to the surface. The nights you spent wondering what happened, the days you spent feeling unwanted, the times you felt so fucking alone.

“Is it true that you even loved me?”

“Yes,” he finally shatters, face contorting and eyes welling at their rims. “Of course I did.” 

Did.

“I still do.”

Liar.

“I thought I was the only one.” You search his eyes, hating how you would comfort him in an instant if this were any other circumstance. Hating, hating, loathing that this is how you find out your love wasn’t unrequited. “Why did you push me away?” 

“I didn’t—I didn’t mean to…” He turns, unable to handle the loud silence streaming from your bones. Voice shaken, he flounders, “I don’t know. I’ve—” 

When he pauses, it’s to keep his lips from shaking. You just know it. 

“I’ve regretted it every day since.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“I have!”

“Really. So all those texts you never sent were full of regret, too, huh?” 

“No, I—”

“All those calls you never made.” 

“I wanted to call!”

“You wanted nothing to do with me!”

“No! That’s not true—”

“Liar!”

He digs palms into the soaking divots of his face, tense at all angles and making you so, so angry that this is what the both of you have come to. 

“I’m not lying!”

“You are!”

You thought it would feel better seeing him cry. 

But it’s not, it’s not, it’s not. You hate this. 

Because Jungkook made sure your tears were short-lived. Made sure to chase them away every single time—

There’s a rapid twist of your locked doorknob before you hear a shout,

“What the hell’s going on in there!”

Shit, your brother. Were you both yelling? 

…Were you both that loud?

“We’re fine!” you shout back, embarrassed that your fight somehow managed to outperform the aux. “It’s okay.”

“Open the door.”

“No.”

“You better be serious—”

“Promise!” You look toward the shouts. “We’re okay.” 

“…Okay.”

And then it’s completely silent.

But you know he hasn’t left. 

Fuck, he can’t hear the rest of this. He shouldn’t have heard any of it in the first place, and you can feel the heat of his questions coming later tonight. 

Which, you are fine answering when it’s just the two of you. But you cannot have anyone hovering right now so you go to open the door and tell him off, 

“Dude, I said I’m—”

Oh, fuck.

Yoongi’s right there with him.

And your heart fucking lurches.

Fuck fuck fuck they both see your tears and you’re getting moved aside before you know it now there’s—

“The fuck are you doing making them cry?”

“Wait, it’s not like th—”

“You come into our house after years—”

“Stop!”

“And pull some shit like this?”

Alarmed, you squeeze yourself between him and a very wide-eyed Jungkook, having to wrestle an angry wrist off a captured bicep. “Seriously, relax!”

You and your brother have a thousand differences. 

But one thing you two have in common? 

He’s just as stubborn as you are. 

A strong swipe moves you back so fast that your feet can’t keep up, and you find yourself stumbling until firm hands and familiar cologne keep you upright, voices springing up all at once.

“I’m not—”

“Hey—!”

“The fuck—”

“What’s wrong with you?” you question, commanding attention and snagging both your brother’s and Jungkook’s stares.

Barely even caring if they see where you are and who’s holding you. 

Because this is all stupid. It’s not fucking high school and you aren’t some kid that needs their useless, shitty, good-for-nothing parents to stand up for them. 

Resisting Yoongi’s grip until he lets go, you stalk up to rip your brother’s hand off your ex’s arm, voice darkened and sharp, “Get out.”

Breath hard, the reply you get is directed more at Jungkook than your own pinched brows, 

“Why should I.”

“Cus it’s fine,” you shoot out, sparing a glance at Yoongi and regretting it immediately. 

Because he’s not looking at you. He probably wasn’t ever looking at you.

No. Based on that look alone, he’s been eyeing Jungkook with an energy that sends chills straight through your veins.

It’s so unmoving, so infernal that your throat dries, forcing you to swallow before laying more reassurance on three pairs of tense shoulders. “It’s alright, okay? We’re just talking.”

“…So it’s like that?”

Jungkook immediately replies to your sibling with a monotone, “Of course it is.”

To which he moves forward again before you stop him with a hand and a shout, 

“The fuck it isn’t—” 

“It is! Fucking hell, dude...” 

You force an exhale, hating how your room is overflowing while you’re still drowning in the conversation prior. 

Because now one talk is gonna sprout into three, and you already dread what each one is going to look like when it develops. 

You hope Jungkook understands that you’re done. 

You hope your brother understands that you’re tired. 

And, above all the others, you hope to any high power out there that Yoongi understands that you are anything but finished. 

When the tension doesn’t budge, you sigh and shift your weight.

“Look. We’re just talking. But I need to speak to him alone.” You breathe with finality, eyeing your sibling and his ride or die—hating and loving how ready they are to do whatever they need to, together.

But they don’t have to do anything. 

Except let you do this yourself. 

“Please.” 

After a moment, they both look over your shoulder before your brother watches your face again. 

But Yoongi seems to have finally caught Jungkook’s attention, because his eyes haven’t broken their lock until you say something,

“Trust me.”

Two weighty seconds pass before both men nod. And they leave without a word, emotions toppling on each other as soon as your door shuts. 

When you walk up to lock it shut, you stare at the knob in silence. 

While that was massively uncalled for, it could’ve gone much worse. You can already think of over a hundred outcomes, because that’s a look you’ve seen on your brother many times. 

However. That’s not what has you lost in thought.

What keeps you frozen is the fact that you have never seen Yoongi like that.

It almost scared you, but somehow comforts you all the same. You can still feel the way he subtly squeezed you in assurance, pressing you into him when you really didn’t fall that far. There’s a jittering in your chest that hasn’t simmered, and it makes you feel like you’re halfway floating back to where Jungkook stands.

But you’re promptly grounded when you rejoin him, voice soft when you ask if he’s okay. 

“He hasn’t changed,” is all he whispers. 

And you look at the door with a sigh of disappointment. “He has a little. Still uptight as ever, but. At least I can leave the house.” 

“Yoongi was a surprise.”

Oxygen abandons your lungs before you quickly catch yourself. “They’re best friends.”

Jungkook glares at the floor in thought before exhaling, and his silence seems charged. Almost off.

“Right.”

…Well, what the hell is that supposed to mean?

Is it because he saw when Yoongi caught you? Or the fact that he showed up at all? 

“Hey,” you whisper, hoping to rope him away from whatever scary things he could be pondering. When he flicks his attention to you, it takes a lot to not flinch at his watery eyes. “Ignore them. We aren’t finished here.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and your conversation jumps right back to where it was. “For everything.” 

“I know.” You close your eyes before sadness lowers your gaze. “But it’s gonna hurt for awhile.” 

Even if you get this closure, it can’t cover all the years he made you doubt yourself. Made you feel like everything you went through was a lie and that love was something you just didn’t deserve. Confidence vaporized as a result, leaving nothing but issues and manufactured intimacy for years. 

Maybe that’s why everyone said you were a bad lay before. Because you actually were. 

Through your thick haze, you hear a faint, broken, 

“You loved me?”

“I…” Don’t say it. Don’t tell him. “I still do.”

“What?”

Fuck. 

It’s true. While he broke your heart first, he still cared for it more than anyone else after him had—until recently. The only grief he gave you was the breakup, which was why it threw you for an absolute loop. 

As you grew up, though, you started to rationalize that the split was a good decision. He was moving, and you were leaving for college. How would you both have fared with the long distance? It probably would have ended one way or the other anyways. 

So while the resentment burned your heart, it didn’t quite rid you of affection. What you feel as a result is similar to before, but so very, very different. Subdued. Faded. Like jeans you wore constantly but haven’t touched in years. 

In all honesty, what broke you the hardest was losing a dear friend. 

“I do,” you finally admit, not looking at him because of your next words, “But not the way you want me to.” 

Jungkook doesn’t respond, letting the outside world bleed into the room like a bitter interlude.

When he still makes no sound, you lift weary eyes to check on him.

And your chest constricts at the way he looks utterly and totally lost. 

When you call his name, his gaze doesn’t leave the floor. When you whisper it again, the tear that falls makes you weak. “Kook, what’s wrong?”

He finally looks up, and you feel your eyes quickly reflect his. “I was so stupid,” he sniffles, wiping his nose. “I really didn’t know. Honestly, I knew that was impossible.” 

For some reason, this makes you chuckle, and a new mood starts to paint the walls. “Why?”

“Because you were so cool.” His smile hasn’t changed. And that’s what cuts the deepest. “And I was just there because I always was.” 

“What?” You start to join him in bittersweet recollection, albeit from a different perspective. When you reach forward to point at his necklace—because you will not touch the ring—you softly laugh. “Then what were these for, silly?” 

When he sighs, you can feel the cracks in his curve. “I’ve been told that I’m clueless.” 

“You are,” you say with a sagging grin. “Extremely.” 

He laughs again. So do you. 

And the both of you break all at once. 

He’s crushing you in a hug and you’re crying into his clothes, hands gripping at his jacket and shoulder feeling the weight of his world. 

While he repeats that he’s sorry, you choke out that you are, too. When he says it was never your fault, you cry even harder. 

You fucking hate this. Now that you know the truth, it hurts that much worse. You hate, hate, hate that this is what everything came to. Everything that you both went through, destroyed by one mistake at the bitter end. 

But you need to move on. You need to sacrifice the past for the future. 

“I still love you,” he whispers, and you tense when he tightens his arms. “And I’m still sorry.”

“You idiot,” you cry into his chest, and you hear him hold back a sob before burying his head again.

And the two of you stay like that. One last embrace that you both needed.

Reminiscing over everything that doesn’t matter anymore.

When you both calm, you feel like it’s been hours. 

But you move to step away first, confused at the way he doesn’t let you leave. 

What’s he doing? Why is his mouth hovering over yours? You need to move. You need to move away. 

But all you can do is plead, “I can’t.”

Still, Jungkook moves in. 

Leaning to kiss just next to your lips instead.

What once would have lit your soul on fire now feels like a tempered flame, the smallest light of a candle before it burns out. And you’re grateful that he respects you enough to not push in a time of weakness. 

You move away again, and he lets you go this time. But not without last words, “Promise me this person is alright.”

“I promise.” 

“Only alright? I have a chance then.”

“Kook.” When you give him an empty glare, dying stars still linger in his eyes. “Friends?”

His lips give away his breaking heart before he nods. “I’m not leaving you again.”

Swallowing, you spread a thankful smile. “You better not,” you sniffle. “I need to decorate.” 

He huffs, giving you one more teary stare. “If they ever hurt you, let me know.” 

“I’ll be okay.” 

After a noncommittal nod, he stands until you politely tell him you need a minute. When he leaves, you wait until the door shuts before wiping nothing from your cheek.

Wondering why this closure doesn’t make you feel better in the slightest.

You don’t know how long it’s been. Time doesn’t exactly flow when you’re caught between the past and the present. 

But when you open your door, Dom is watching you with pure, unadulterated focus.

And your face scrunches in pain before she ushers you back inside.

She doesn’t say anything as you sit on your bed, offering her shoulder even though she doesn’t prefer physical contact.

While you’re grateful—so, so thankful for her presence—intermittent sniffles are the only sound you’re capable of. 

Until you stabilize and come up for air, fishing words from your river of grief, “Remember what I told you. When he broke up with me.”

Anger simmers in her reply as her shoulder moves under your chin. You assume by the movements that she’s typing something on her phone—or prepping for revenge, either one of the two. “I do.”

“He said he still loves me.”

Your first thought is proven correct as a device plops onto your comforter. “Bullshit.”

“Dom…”

“What? Like he loved you then, too?” She scoffs. “You were the one that loved him and he cut you out. He needs to get over that.”

“He said it was a mistake.” 

“It sure as fuck was.” 

“I dunno. Something just doesn’t sit right.” You swipe at your nose. “He looked so.. I just…” 

“Uh uh. It’s too fresh.” She gently lifts your heavy cloud off her person, firm fingers squeezing out rain. “You gotta get out of your own damn head right now.” 

“I know.”

“Now.”

You break into another sob, hiccuping before nodding. “It just sucks, Dom. I d—”

“Look, I get that. But everything you’re thinking about already happened. It’s done.” A glance is thrown behind her back before she swivels around. “Focus on what you have now.” 

In your moments of weakness, you ask the dumbest things, 

“What do I have now.”

As always, Dominique is quick and to the point. “A man that’s waiting outside your door.”

Huh?

Your eyes flash up to hers as she stands. “Wait, what?”

What did she say? What does she mean? How does she know that what’s going on— 

“One minute,” she warns, far away and not to you. “Then you’re on your own.”

“K.”

Wait, what.

You don’t even realize you’re vacating your bed as you see him walk in, nodding back at Dom closing the door before regarding your wreck of a face. 

His name is molasses on your tongue.

What is he doing? Isn’t the party still on? Why is he walking closer? 

He’s not supposed to be in here he can’t be here and you’re telling him that but he pulls you in so tight that the rest of your tears rain down in sheets. 

“Fuck,” is all you can manage now, and he crushes you in even harder, as if he wants you pressed against all of him forever like a keepsake leaf on a journal page.

Your voice writes words into his clothes, silence his only reply but the only one you need. 

Even if you only get a minute, this is enough. It’s enough, not enough, enough.

When he holds you at arm’s length, his question comes out a bit fast-paced, “What happened?” 

Damn it. As much as you should probably tell him, you use precious seconds to pause, not really knowing if you want to or not. 

“Don’t sweat it,” he quickly understands, kissing your forehead just as chaste. When he moves again, you catch the tension in his shoulders, notice the ruffles in his hair. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yes. No.” Fuck, he kinda looks as rattled as you feel. What is happening right now? “I just, umm. I need a minute.”

“You don’t have to go back out there, you know.”

“But you do,” you counter. “And I just wanna see you.” 

Finally, Yoongi stops, and his whole upper body relaxes at once. A beautiful sound to your ears, amusement huffs out his nose before he mutters, “You can’t keep saying shit like that.” 

“But it’s true.” 

His chuckle is light, and mischievous eyes find the ground before they lift to yours,

“Makes me wanna take you home.” 

Well. You swiftly realize why he doesn’t want you to keep saying certain things. The zing of emotion through your body was definitely uncalled for. 

Any other day, you would want this type of conversation to keep going. And maybe you’d be a little coy about it. 

But right now, all you are is tired, and your barriers are crumbled enough for a truth to escape. 

Resigned, you step closer to wrap his waist in your arms, not caring if he can feel the rapid beats of your heart. “I want you to do that,” you admit, breath warming your face on his already warmer shirt. “All the time.” 

“Take you home?” 

“Mmhmm.” 

Yoongi runs fingers along your arm. “You know I’d do it if I could, doll.” 

If you were someone else. If you didn’t have to hide. 

If you didn’t have to wait. 

At least you don’t have to wait for much longer. Definitely can’t say anything to your brother tonight, but you and Yoongi agreed on after this party. So things will be better from here on out. 

But why does he seem so—

You’re spooked by a warning knock on your door, and you flicker eyes to see his filled with something you don’t like. 

And the air suddenly shifts to something alarming.

“Listen.”

“Hmm?”

“I know we said we’d say something.”

Oh. You shake your head, already on the same page and liking how in sync you are. “There’s no way. At least, not tonight. Jungkook—”

“It may need to be a bit longer than that.”

Huh.

What does he mean by—

“So you probably won’t see me for awhile.”

You freeze. 

So does time. 

A minute is no longer enough.

“Yoongi, please—”

“Can you do that?”

Your heart slams against your ribcage, banging and banging and screaming that what he’s asking is not possible.

Because he isn’t asking what you want to do. He isn’t even asking how long you can wait. 

There’s a reason why he’s risking all sorts of shit to say this in person. Why he seems so restless. 

And you’re already missing him so hard it hurts.

Truthfully? You can’t do this. Not now. Not when your heart is bleeding out on your own bedroom floor. There isn’t even enough time to process Jungkook’s talk and now you need to deal with this?

“Babe?”

But despite what you feel, even if your throat is seizing and your chest is caving in, your answer will be what he needs. 

Because seeing Yoongi look like this—torn and frayed at the edges—renders you powerless and protective all at once. For fuck’s sake, he looks slightly panicked and this is the second new side of him you’ve seen tonight.

And yet he found a way to be with you one last time. 

Sacrificing seconds just to say goodbye. 

So you give up something, too. Your wants and needs because you don’t think you can do this, but it seems way too important to him to not try. 

You get it. That whole confrontation probably snapped all sense back into him. He doesn’t want to hurt his best friend. Or disrupt his work environment. Or both. Whatever whatever whatever. You should’ve seen this coming.

If distance is what he wants, you’ll give it. Instant karma because you just told someone else to give you some, too.

Of course you lose someone as soon as you gain back another.

“Doll, let me know because—”

“Anything,” you rush out, and yearning taints your voice on the descent. “I’ll do it.”

He pans from one eye to the other, and you weakly reveal a crack in your resolve,

“Anything for you.”

That answer was a lot more than what you meant to say. And the next look he gives rips you into shreds. Shreds of the bigger truth you just told him with moments left of his time.

“For us,” he corrects, swooping in to give you one more soul-shattering kiss.

And with that, he pulls away, turning to retreat into the real world that proves absurdly cruel. 

You don’t know when you’ll get to be alone with him again. It could be a day. Or months. Or even longer.

But watching him go, you know you can get through this. You know you can do it. 

Because this is nothing new. Just another person leaving. You’ve gone through it before and you’ll go through it again and this time will be different, right? Right? He’ll come back. Of course he will. 

And yet there’s still a part of you that questions.

If people are like seasons… 

Which one will Yoongi be?

Fuck.

Your body is moving before the rest of you does, and you propel forward to tug him in, flooding his lips with saltwater and longing and a deluge of reluctant trust. 

And he responds in an instant, swallowing you in an embrace you’ll cherish forever and willingly giving in to your desperate tugs on his jacket.

“Yoongi, I—”

You hear another insistent knock before he slings you into the nearest wall, and he grips the back of your head so hard you sob into his mouth. 

“I know.”

His name rattles around your mouth.

“It’ll be okay.”

You wanna believe him.

“Okay?”

But you only nod, eyes filled with oceans but gaze unwavering. Because you need to see him. Because you need to see him. 

“Fuck.” 

He smashes his lips on yours once more, capturing every soft plea for him to stay and holding you so tightly that your heart splinters. And while you know this is his way of telling you everything will be okay, you have a sinking suspicion that he is fighting to believe it himself.

It’s not fair.

None of this is fucking fair. 

If he was anyone else, if you were anyone else, if your brother wasn’t the way he was, if Jungkook wasn’t in the position he’s in now. 

It was just nights ago that you cradled all his moonlight in your palms.

And now you’ll be farther apart than stars. 

Yoongi finally pulls away right as Dom opens the door, and a myriad of emotions slosh into your brain when his eyes never leave you. 

“I got us,” he vows, finger on your chin the sole thing keeping you afloat, and you suspend in disbelief that someone you know is witnessing his lips press your forehead in real time and no explosions or helicopters are crashing onto the scene.

Just a panicked “Hurry up, for god’s sake!” to indicate your friend is not amused or phased.

Yoongi finally steps away, slowly backing up before slipping out, and the door closes with only you inside—hand clawing deep into your chest. 

Because you know him well enough.

He was committing your every feature to memory. 

And the desperation in his reddened eyes hunches you forward in pain.

The rest of the party goes on. Music booms, people laugh, conversations sparkle.

And you hear them all through your door.

Unmoved from the spot everyone left you in.

Idiot🙄 [1:34am]: Hey

Idiot🙄 [1:34am]: You up or nah?

You [1:40am]: yeah

Idiot🙄 [1:40am]: Help me clean up

You scoff at your phone, letting it fall from your hand before resting tired eyes between your knees. 

When it buzzes again, you reluctantly read it with vision unreflecting.

Idiot🙄 [1:42am]: Left food for you, too

That you will leave your room for. You may have just cried out your weight in tears alone.

You🙄 [1:46am]: ok

Idiot🙄 [1:46am]: 👍

Cleaning is a quiet event, with you both doing the chores you’ve defaulted to over the years. While he clears the floors and deals with the trash, you steadily get through the dishes, scrubbing them as well as you can before placing them in the washer to dry.

A plate. A bowl after that. 

Two whisky glasses even though there were plenty of solo cups to use.

You needed this. Needed a way of going through the motions and letting your brain fly on autopilot. If you sniffle, the water drowns it out, and only the dishes get to see any lingering tears.

And unluckily for you, there are plenty of both.

“Hey.”

You hum.

“Do I need to beat his ass?”

Well, that didn’t take long. 

Frustration tears its way up your throat on all fours, “I should kick yours for what you did back there.”

“And I’d deserve it.” 

You pause.

“But I still wanna know.” 

Sighing, you shake your head, knowing that neither of you are angry enough to fight anyways. “No, okay? I was serious. We talked.” 

“I know you talked but he still hurt you.”

Your lip stings under your teeth.

“And I can’t just let that go.”

When he stops, you place another dish on its rack. “Let’s just finish and I’ll tell you everything in a sec.” 

He sets down the last of his trash before retiring in the living room, the thump of weary weight squeezing a sigh out of the couch.

And you eventually join him, water cutting off with a squeak before you shuck off your gloves. 

As you walk through the cleaned-enough rooms, you keep hearing afterimages of conversations, wondering how many revolved around your shouting match with Jungkook, or how many speculated who Yoongi is or isn’t seeing. 

All these pretend scenarios mock you from all sides. 

But the conversation you’re about to have with your brother is gonna be real. And a long time coming, quite frankly. 

You take a breath before crossing into a space that’s seen and heard many things. While you take residence in your regular spot on the sofa, your brother doesn’t deter his gaze from a television that’s not on.

But as soon as you blurt out your confession, he slowly closes his eyes. 

“He broke up with me. Before I left for school.” 

“...Why didn’t you tell me.”

Brows scrunched, you waste no time in pinning him with your response, “Did you see yourself back there? Imagine if you found out back then.”

Silence. 

“Besides,” you continue, deflating back into the cushions, “He was moving, remember? And you had enough going on. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I always worry.” 

“It’s whatever at this point. I didn’t even know he was back until Yoo—you told me.”

Shit, that was close. 

“I shouldn’t have made it a surprise.” 

“Not your fault. What’s done is done.” When you observe the blank screen, you can see your brother aim a look your way. “Just made the whole uni thing miserable at first.” 

And the years after, too, but he doesn’t need the same details that Yoongi got. 

He sighs, hand scratching the side of his head before free-falling. When it’s quiet, you think he’s preparing for war. Prepping a vow to go after Jungkook and dealing with a problem that’s not yours anymore. 

But he doesn’t do that. What he says catches you completely off guard.

An apology.

“I’m sorry I’m always gone. Or not really here when I’m back.” 

Where did that come from? Are you already done with a talk you dreaded for years? 

This can’t be it. 

Blinking, your mouth slowly opens before you respond as level as possible. “It’s okay. I can pretty much fend for myself at this point.” 

“I know. But I’ll try to be better.” 

He’s gonna what? “Why?”

“Cus I feel… Uhh.” He moves his lips around in thought, as if the next sentence takes strategy to arrange. “I feel like we don’t really talk anymore.” 

“…Oh.”

You’re thoroughly thrown. Because who the hell is this person you’re talking to right now? What’s up with him? He doesn’t need to try anything better except calm the fuck down sometimes. And let you be an adult.

And frankly, you feel like you talk a normal amount anyway. At least, you didn’t think anything was off about it. 

What the hell happened after he left your room?

Suddenly, you see him laugh at the ground before asking it a question. “Remember when we’d go get our own food?” 

Alright, he’s definitely drunk or a clone. 

But you’ll take it. This switch in what you expected this conversation to be is a welcome one, and you softly entertain memories that aren’t supposed to be this funny. “Yeah. We’d get told to come back with our parents.” 

“Until they realized we kept going alone.” 

A memory makes you smirk. “You even tried dressing like a grown up.” 

He chuckles again, elbows resting on his knees as he watches your coffee table. “I really thought I did it, too.” 

“You did.” Thinking about all the shit you both went through, it’s truly a wonder how you’re both still here. Living and existing and doing big things. 

A rueful chuckle leaves your lips, floating to the floor. “We’re fucked up, huh.” 

“Very,” he agrees. “But who isn’t.” 

True. “It could be worse, I think.” 

“How?” 

You play with some of the frays on your sofa, wondering when this piece of furniture started to resemble thin lines of too-soft polyester at its edges. 

Did it start to give up around the same time your parents did? Or had their patience worn thin way before the threads on this cushion began to fade? 

Whichever truth remains, at least it’s still here—witnessing all the struggles and triumphs, the highs and lows, and all the times the two of you had sat in puffy-eyed silence. 

Together. 

“They could’ve left us somewhere else.” 

“Ah,” he nods, slowly shaking his head and twisting the watch on his wrist. “Nah.” 

Silent, your eyes find his side profile in due time. “No?”

And his glare burns the path ahead. Just like it always has. “I wouldn’t have let them.” 

“Oh, really.”

“I got them to leave us all this, didn’t I?”

Wait, he did what now?

…You didn’t know that. 

“Hold on,” you breathe slow. “That’s what happened?”

“We had a deal.” He sighs before leaning all the way back, hands joined at the knuckles on his stomach. “If I graduated with full marks and, uhh. Got a starting salary high enough, they’d pay for your tuition.”

The pause he makes weighs a ton. 

“And leave this to us when you came back.” 

So… He… 

Holy shit. 

You were just fucking relieved you didn’t have to pay any loans. For once, you thought your parents really had your best interests in mind and did something out of kindness before peacing the fuck out. 

But it’s all because your brother negotiated and pulled off the near impossible? 

…Is he paying loans? 

“I didn’t know any of that,” you whisper, finding yourself on the verge of tears again.

He simply shrugs, looking down at his cherished piece that he rarely takes off. “You didn’t need to. You were just a kid.”

“So were you.”

Your brother purses his lips, and you wonder what words he could be holding back. What thoughts he has that he won’t say out loud. If any of them are things he wants to say but can’t. 

“It’s whatever.”

He had to grow up fast so that you didn’t have to. 

And you don’t have the heart to tell him that university fast tracked that anyways. 

So, while grateful as hell and knowing you’ll be thinking about this conversation for years, you switch the subject. You’re already overwhelmed as is. 

And you suddenly understand what Yoongi might be struggling with, too. 

Because if he did all this for you, what lengths has he gone for his best friend? 

Shoving that thought into a far corner of your brain, you rest your head to mirror your sibling, letting your tears slide back to where they came from. “I, umm. Was wondering why they left us the house. But I figured they just didn’t wanna pay for it.” 

“It was already paid off,” he explains, seemingly just as happy to talk about something else. “Don’t ask me how I know this, but it’s how I was able to negotiate in the first place. They had four other properties, and a condo on some island.” 

“What.”

“That’s why they were rarely here. Work trips, my ass.” He scoffs before bouncing a leg. “And they had us in this place.” 

“I like it here, though.”

“I do, too, but…” You hear a shuffle of his feet before he stops. “I just. I dunno, it’s just us here. It feels...” 

“Empty?” 

“Maybe. More like something’s missing? I dunno, that’s probably lame.” 

You inhale before assuring him. “It’s not.” 

And with that, you’re both left to stare at the same ceiling, conversation stewing and simmering around the whole room.

Usually, this is when you leave. Because you don’t wanna talk about shit like this, or you simply feel like doing anything else. 

But tonight, you want to stay. You didn’t know these things about your brother and what he did, and it’s making you realize a lot of things. 

And regret others. 

A question rolls off your tongue before you can overthink it, “Do you ever wonder what we did wrong?” 

“All the time.” 

“When I think about it, I always end up thinking the same thing.” 

“Hmm.” 

You tilt your head his way. “We weren’t the adults. But neither were they.” 

And you both huff in tandem after he grins. “Damn.” 

You don’t know how the two of you got here. But it was much better than talking about anything else, and you silently thank him for not making you more miserable than you already were. 

Truthfully, you feel a little better instead.

He just needs to know for sure that you really are past the whole situation. Mostly. A healthy amount, at least. 

So you tell him. “I mean it, thou—”

“I’m sorry.”

“Huh?” You look over to see regret fill his side of the couch.

“For what I did. I was outta line.”

“Oh.” You swallow, surprisingly emotional that he’s even owning up to it. You know it only happened because he was being protective, but hearing this from him is huge. That had to be hard. “Thank you.”

“I just.. I love you, okay?” He turns to look at the ceiling again, and you quickly have to do the same because you know how that was even tougher to say. “You and my brothers.. You’re all I’ve got.” 

Liquid emotion runs down your cheek, never having been told that more than once in a single day.

It’s a shame how foreign it sounds when you say it back. 

But that doesn’t make it any less true.

“Love you, too.”

An hour later, you find yourself in bed, clutching your phone while a single question loops through your brain.  

…Calling should be okay, right?

Even if you can’t see him, or really be in the same room, this should be okay. At least, in the dead of night when even birds are asleep. When no one is awake to judge you both for lying to the people you... 

Your chest squeezes when you press down on your decision, the talk with your brother repeating in your ears.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

It’s ringing.

Still ringing.

…And you feel your chest cave when you hear it go to voicemail.

Fuck. 

Maybe he’s sleeping already. Unforeseen circumstances like emotional turmoil tend to slow down your getting ready for bed process, so it took a lot longer than usual. Maybe he isn’t actively avoiding your calls and is just face down in a pillow you miss using.

And maybe you need to get used to this god-awful feeling as quickly as you can. 

This hollow, aching, painful feeli—

Yoongi: Incoming Call

Your chest booms when you see his name, and you try your absolute hardest to answer normally even though instant tears blur the screen.

“H—”

“Sorry, I was showering, fuck.”

His breath sounds so rushed, and you immediately wonder what he looks like if he didn’t take that long to answer. Imagining him in only a towel or less, you let out a pained chuckle before whispering, “You okay?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?”

Of course that’s his answer. “I’m not. Just wondering if you were.”

“Why would I be if you aren’t? Ow.”

Body alert, you only focus on that last syllable. “Wait, are you hurt?”

You hear a low grunt before he responds. 

“Just hit my fucking knee getting out.” 

Ouch. How the hell did he do that? “I’m sorry. You got ice, though, right?” 

“It’s not that bad. Just stings.” 

“Okay.”  

There’s some crunching sounds before you hear footsteps and hisses, and a thump before other noise crackles through. 

“Spoke to Kook.” 

Shit.

“And the guys.”

Oh. About work. “What’s up?”

“We’re gonna be busy as shit for the next month or two, so.. Guess that came at a good time.” 

Ah. No finish line in sight.

But he didn’t hide that information from you, so you appreciate the honesty. Better than him leaving you in complete darkness.

“Yeah, do your thing,” you support. “I need to prep for this interview anyway. And figure shit out if I end up getting the job.” 

“When you get it.”

You exhale, shy. “When I get it, yeah.”

“Where is it again? That blue building, yeah?”

“Mmhmm. But where I’ll be is like, third floor.”

“See? Claiming shit already.”

You realize right as he says it, but you meant something completely different. Your laugh is soft. “I meant for the interview.” 

“Mm. Well lemme know where you post up after they hire you.”

“Yoongi.”

“Fine.”

“Did you, umm. Did you and Kook talk about anything else?”

“Just work stuff.”

“Okay.” Your eyes lower. If he’s telling you everything, you gotta reciprocate. 

Even the stuff you don’t wanna mention. “He tried to kiss me.”

“What.”

Swallowing at his tone, you whisper, “I told him I couldn’t.” 

“…I see.”

Fuck. He does not sound okay with that in the slightest. Disappointed with yourself, you apologize, “I’m sorry.”

“Huh? Don’t be.”

“You sound mad.”

There’s another moment of silence, and you don’t think you breathe until he responds,

“Not at you, doll.”

Well, shit. You don’t wanna cause any friction between them, especially after the energy Jungkook gave off earlier. It’s still bugging you to hell. “Nothing happened, baby. But he felt really off after y’all left, so.. I dunno. Be careful.”

“I will. But that means I can’t talk when he’s around.”

You bury your head, watching the hours that you get with Yoongi dwindle away. Knowing Jungkook, he’s gonna immerse himself in whatever keeps him distracted. So he will most likely be at the studio just as much. “At least you were there today,” you whisper. 

“Mm.”

“Honestly, I didn’t expect that.” 

There’s a breath on the line, and you can tell he’s hesitant just by the way he moves his phone. So when he finally speaks, your jaw goes slack.

“I was there first, doll.” 

He what?

“Wait… You were?” 

He was at your door first? He has to know how that looked, right? Your brother clearly saw him if he was the one to shout, and yet there was no mention of it when the two of you spoke. 

Maybe that’s part of why Yoongi decided what he did. A decision to help you came with consequences he knew were coming. But he did it anyway. 

Your breath is suddenly short. And your head is starting to spin with information overload.

“The plan was to only check for a sec, but he had the same idea. Showed up right behind me.” 

“So… You both heard—”

“Nothing until the yelling.” 

They were there the whole time. Both of them. Yoongi first? Your brother joining him? 

Nope. This is too much. All of this is way too much for one night and your head is bursting at the seams. 

Just another reason why this separation could be a good thing. Other than the fact that Jungkook seems weird and you can’t see Yoongi at all and him and your brother really are more than friends and you wedged yourself right in between everybody—

Information. Realizations. Guilt. You’re spiraling. 

Run.

“I’m, umm. I’m gonna get off now.” 

“You okay?”

Say yes. Say anything but “No. I’m… I don’t know, I really don’t know—This is a lot and—”

“Wait—” 

“I get it and I’ll stay away for as long as you want—”

“Babe, talk to—”

“Bye, Yoongi.”

And you immediately hang up before your dam floods.

He doesn’t need to hear your grief over the past, your regrets of the present, your fear of the future. He doesn’t need to know how pained you really feel dealing with everything at once. How harsh his departure is because this is when you need him most. 

Yoongi: Missed Call

All he needs to know is that you’ll do this for him. Because he would do the same for you. 

And he’s done enough for everyone other than himself. 

But goddamn if this doesn’t hurt like nothing else you’ve experienced before. 

And you’ve been through hell.

Yoongi: Missed Call (2)

Why is he calling? Won’t this just make it harder?

Why does he keep trying if you need to stay away?

Yoongi: Incoming Call

With a heart so busted you don’t know where all the pieces are, you finally reach up to acknowledge his effort. 

And his greeting sends a pang through your chest.

“Knew you’d answer on the first try.” 

Sniffling, you say his name so, so softly.  

“You didn’t let me say bye.”

When you don’t respond, he trudges on.

“So now, you get to hear the longest good night ever.”

Huh? 

“And no hanging up this time.”

What the heck does he… mean… 

As soon as you hear the light strums of a guitar, your heart shows signs of life. And you let everything out while he gathers the scattered shards with every chord. Every note. 

Every second he doesn’t say goodbye.

A river flows into your pillow until it runs dry, and the Moon outside your blinds casts a silver blanket over your defeated shoulders.

And it’s only when you and your phone are dead to the world that the Sun steps in to peel it off with calm palms.

For the first time in a long time, you plan a sleepover at Taehyung’s. 

And after getting a rundown of what happened, he completely agrees that you both need it.

It’s been a minute since you slept over there, and rolling onto his driveway makes you remember the first time it happened. 

Your brother was outright flabbergasted you even asked. 

But after some arguments from you and very clear energy from Tae, your brother waved you off and just demanded no funny shit better happen. 

And you’ve spent so many nights over there since then that Taehyung’s one of the people he calls if he’s looking for you. 

Being reminded of something else interesting, you think back to the first time you went to Yoongi’s, spending enough time there that he ended up on the list of people to call about your whereabouts. 

As hot as he was picking up with a cheeky arm around you, it was surprising he was on that list in the first place. 

Well, maybe not. They’re best friends. But why would he—

“You just gonna waste gas in my driveway or what?” 

Snapping your head up, you see Taehyung looking bored, hands on his hips and wearing the most comfortable clothes you’ve ever seen. 

Your glare in return is empty when you finally get out, circling around to grab your stuff and take-out from the passenger seat. 

“You’re lucky I like you,” you joke as he goes to grab the food. Locking your car, you follow his grumbles into the house with a laugh, feeling a little okay already.

“How’s Jimin?”

“Still complicated, but that’s not what we’re here to discuss.”

You sigh before you poke your noodles, knowing you have quite the catch-up to get through. If only your attempt at procrastination worked.

“Eat,” Taehyung orders before taking a hearty slurp of his meal. “I don’t care if you’re sad, this wasn’t cheap.” 

“Excuse you.” He’s lucky you resist the urge to fling saucy food all over his shorts. “Also, I paid for it, the hell?” 

When your friend blows air through his nose, you scoff before silently doing as he says, pouting at the beginning credits onscreen.

“How long has it been?”

Ah. That’s a good start. 

As you peer down at your food, emotion and appetite abandon your palate,

“A month.”

“...Damn.” 

Taehyung already knows all about what happened. But even if he didn’t, you think he would’ve caught on to your increasingly depressing song choices. And the way you barely watched Yoongi during the last intramural game. 

“How’s the new job, though? Good distraction?” 

That you can talk about for hours. “Thank fuck it is.” 

“That’s good, at least.”

As your meal progresses, you continue to catch him up on everything, including the way night calls are the only thing keeping your hopes afloat. 

Because Yoongi was right. Ever since the party, weekdays have been radio silent, and you soon got accustomed to looking forward to his late texts saying he’s home.

And you’ve been okay with that. Landing the job and getting swamped with training has kept you busy, and your friends have been a wonderful salve for persisting wounds.

It just stings when you know the studio is close by. Because even though Yoongi extended invitations before, you avoid that area like the plague.

“But enough about me,” you huff. “Still complicated with him, huh.” 

If Taehyung knows you’re too sad to keep talking, he doesn’t show it. His response simply comes after a few chews. “Yeah. But”—he swallows—“Not in a way I’m mad about.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Taehyung settles back into the sofa right as a ball of fluff hops on, and you watch the movie roll by while he gently orders him to get down. “He’s not as flaky. We just haven’t really labeled anything yet.” 

That’s surprising to hear. Tae doesn’t strike you as the labeling type at all, so your question is genuine, “Do you need one?” 

A huff is what you get in return, and you can hear the smile in his tone. “He seems to want one more than me. Which is why I don’t get the hesitation.” 

“Mm.” 

That makes more sense. Knowing what you know about Jimin, you aren’t shocked he would be conflicted about something he really wants. 

Why he’s skirting around the point is the question. It’s clear to you that they would be so cute together. And sickly annoying in public. 

“Maybe that’s a good sign,” you blurt, roping your friend’s gaze and attention. Spotlight on you instead of the characters bustling about his television, you smile. “It’s like he’s scared because he cares about your feelings.” 

Not unlike what’s happening between another pair of friends you know.

Taehyung blinks, and you’ve always liked the way curiosity widens his eyes. 

But he’s so quiet that you shift. “What?” 

He keeps staring before biting an incoming smile. Before you can question him again, something brightens his expression. “You’ve changed, you know that?” 

Huh. “Me? How?” 

Your friend just grins before resting his head on the top of his cushion. “I’ve always known you were amazing. But now you look like you know that, too.” 

All thoughts fizzle out before your jaw dips. When you try to present arguments, none materialize, and Taehyung laughs at the way you physically buffer. 

“Not even denying it. I like this.” 

“Shut up,” you finally pout, embarrassed and shy when he laughs again. 

The rest of the film continues with nothing else but your commentary, and Taehyung clicks out of the queue screen before another one can start. 

“Break? Or what do you feel like?” 

You feel Yeontan’s fluff at your feet. “We can keep going.” 

“Mmk.” 

Both of you contemplate which one to pick when you feel your phone vibrate a ton. And when you see the notification, your heart leaps before crashing back down to the ground.

Yoongi [5:02pm]: Just got booked for another week

Yoongi [5:03pm]: Can’t talk now but

Yoongi [5:03pm]: Letting you know

Right.

You slowly let your hand drop with a sigh, and you can feel Taehyung’s pitied stare without moving.

“I know,” you whisper. “I shouldn’t be upset.” 

“You can definitely be upset.” 

You lift weary eyes to see that your assumption was very wrong. There’s no pity evident at all. 

Only warmth. And understanding. 

“Cus knowing him? He’s probably more frustrated than you are.” 

There’s a pinch in your chest, a sharp one that cuts your breath for a small second in time. 

Him? Being more upset than you?

You only thought about that possibility once, but you quickly dismissed it. There’s no way. 

But hearing Tae say it from a guy’s perspective—and someone that knows how Yoongi can be—gives you pause. 

It just didn’t make sense before because he sounds fine when you call, and he doesn’t really talk much about his own shit unless you ask. Which is strange considering he was fine doing so after your huge breakthrough at his place. Granted, it was mostly about good things.

Does he only hold back when it’s about stuff that stresses him out? That’s not ideal. You’ve told him before to tell you what’s bothering him, so if he’s still hesitant to let you in…

Taehyung’s honeyed voice brings you into the present, 

“What are you gonna say?” 

Blinking, you push your lips together in thought before looking at your phone again. 

If Yoongi really is more upset than you are, then you should tell him something that you would wanna hear from him. Even if you aren’t feeling so hot. 

You [5:07pm]: how’s ur back feel from carrying everyone so hard🥴 

You [5:07pm]: jk its ok<3 you’re getting recognized and it’s about time 

When you send those, something strange happens to your shoulders. 

They’re lighter. 

How is that possible? You’re still sad. 

But your mind seems to clear some junk out, instead feeling a little okay about the whole thing. 

Hopefully Yoongi receives them well. If he doesn’t, you’ll figure something else out. 

Yoongi [5:09pm]: Lmaoo I’m saying. They better run me my check and cover my hospital bills.

You laugh with teary eyes, soul feeling like it’ll live despite plans being pushed back again. 

The lingering sadness remains, but it’s dwindled for now. An afterthought to the slight happiness you feel from lifting him up instead of dragging him down.

Another message slides into the thread before you click your phone shut, so when Tae gets more food, you catch what it says. 

Yoongi [5:11pm]: Fuck I miss you

And your heart beats extra loud, mouth slightly curved and wobbly because you agree but it’s okay, okay, okay. You can both do this. 

You [5:12pm]: i miss you too.. but focus now and tell me all about it later

Of course you want to cry. Of course you want to curl up into a ball and sob. 

Yoongi [5:15pm]: Thanks doll

But just like there’s strength in being strong, there’s just as much strength in being gentle. 

Because as upset as you feel, it’s better if you don’t show it. While you aren’t completely resolute, you push forward in silence. Even if you can’t see the finish line.

The lingering feeling of anxiousness remains; the what-if’s batter your mind from the inside. But you choose to stay optimistic for him, and even you have to admit that’s admirable.

But the yearning still packs a fucking punch.

Your shoulders must be slumping to hell because you feel a warm presence settle against you, slinging an arm around and holding you close. 

The only sound you make is a quick sniffle, but you don’t move as Taehyung reads the thread on your phone. 

“You see what I see, right,” is all he whispers. 

And when you slightly shrug, he leans his head against yours. 

“You will.” 

Nodding, you feel more tears follow the paths of their predecessors, and you don’t move to wipe them away. “You’re a good person, Tae.” 

His chuckle sounds like a hearth, and you welcome Yeontan’s sniffs on your legs.

“Jimin’s lucky you’re even giving him a chance.” 

“Ah.” After squeezing your bicep, your friend reaches down to pick up his baby. “He’s lucky I gave him more than one.” 

“Oh? The luckiest then.” 

“You can do this,” he murmurs. “He’ll be ready before you know it.” 

With heavy eyes, you glance down at your still unfinished food. 

“Maybe you’re right.” 

One week turns into three. 

Then two more pass.

And Taehyung might be less correct than you thought. 

“Fuck,” you groan, clutching under your stomach. “Sorry, I’m a mess.”

“It’s okay.”

“At least you don’t have to see me this gross.”

“So?”

“You better stop.” Another eruption of pain shoots through your lower body, and you exhale into your pillow. “This is only making it worse.”

“You got a heating pad?”

A what? How does he know about— 

Oh. Right. 

…You probably shouldn’t tread waters you don’t know the depths of. 

“Yeah. But it’s too far and I’m lazy.”

He laughs in pity but doesn’t show any in his words,

“Go get it, doll.”

Because being reminded of his last relationship also makes you wonder why it ended. And wonder if that also has anything to do with his decision. 

Now hurt in multiple ways, you childishly retort, “You get it.”

“I would if I was there. But I’m not, so you’re gonna.”

“Fine.” You huff into your pillowcase, knowing you’re gonna get up because his perfect mix of support and command is annoyingly attractive. “How much longer?”

Yoongi’s too quiet for your tastes. 

“I’ll figure it out tomorrow.” 

Eyes closed, you’re silent for eons. 

“Okay.”

To your confusion, you get a food delivery at your office the next day. 

Inspecting the contents of the bag, you’re cautious until you notice a takeout box of mandu under some sweets and a few all too familiar fruits.

And at the note inside, you promptly proceed to the least used bathroom to compose yourself.

Soon.

Soon and Almost are somewhat similar.

Both can give people a bit of hope. 

But they can also be the most dangerous words to play with.

Because soon is hilariously arbitrary, and you almost believed it meant something good. 

“Going to Yoongi’s.”

“K.”

“You wanna go? He’s having a few people over.”

You bite down so hard your jaw hurts. “Nah, I already have plans tonight.”

“K. Have fun!”

When the door closes, you keep your eyes on the television.

Arms falling at your side because you know you aren’t going anywhere. 

On a random Tuesday, you finally get a package you’ve been waiting on for what seems like months, and you rush to your room to check if it’s exactly what you wanted.

When it looks so beautiful, and feels smooth to the touch, you clutch the material in sorrow.

It’s perfect.

And completely useless for the time being.

Calls have been the one thing getting you by.

But over time, even those have virtually stopped.

It can’t be helped. He’s working far too late into the night for you to stay awake, and is passed out by the time you need to wake up. 

Spending time with friends helps distract from the drift, especially when one of them keeps snapping you into the present, but they’re getting busy, too. 

However. Despite all the obstacles, you keep waiting. A season has passed, yet you stay grounded. 

Hoping, wishing, choosing to believe that Yoongi’s not gonna do the same.

You accidentally spill your drink.

And you sob. 

One chilly night, you take more of Taehyung’s advice, going to Jimin’s determined to have a good time. 

But despite the manufactured confidence you had while getting dressed up and the way you were totally fine walking in and conversing with people and the admittedly perfect vibes of the party…

There’s a hole in your chest that won’t decrease in size. 

No matter what you feed it—food, drinks, the compliments of others—it refuses to budge, and this emptiness holds weight. Heavy. Melancholic.

Painful.

As you suddenly find yourself on Jimin’s windy balcony, one with a slightly different view than the one you’ll remain on forever, dull eyes lower to your solo. 

If you forget this one on the railing, too…

Will he finally show up to hand it back? 

A sharp ache spreads as the hole expands, new tears too powerful to ignore. You know your vision swims, but you don’t move to stay afloat at all. 

Three months. 

Ninety days.

Eight million seconds. 

It only took sixty for you to miss him. And it only took sixty-one for you to feel something else. 

How many more will you end up counting? How long until you get to count down instead of up? 

You keep asking yourself that. When you know for damn sure that you don’t want to know the answer. 

A breeze wraps around your limbs as you sip, the chill cutting through your dress and making you teeter in your heels. 

Because it seems like Yoongi doesn’t know, either. 

To the point where it’s starting to scare you. 

Has he been perfect otherwise? Sickeningly. 

But something in you keeps wondering why the wait keeps extending, anxious that he could be flat out stalling. 

Prematurely saddened by the possibility that he’s reconsidering entirely.

It makes sense. At least, more sense than him actually wanting something with you. Maybe this time apart has given him the clarity to realize how rose-tinted this whole situation has been. How unrealistic and laughable.

But that night in his kitchen… 

It’s getting harder and harder to stay positive.

On the verge of defeat, you hold out your phone, clicking around until your finger hovers over a certain Call button.

You can’t.

He’s working. Someone could see your name, if he has it saved as normal as you have his.

Your finger moves a bit closer.

What the fuck are you doing? Stop. Don’t screw up everything you’ve had to endure with one impulsive decision.

But your mind is fucking bad tonight and you have no clue why.

When the screen lights up with the call screen anyway, ice water rushes through because you totally didn’t mean to call and you need to end it now. 

Hold on, it’s an incoming call?

Oh fuck, it’s an incoming call.

Your throat sears as your eyes shut tight. 

How the fuck did he know? How the fuck does he always know? 

Tears burning, you try your hardest to calm the hell down before you answer, wondering why he dubs you his good luck charm when he puts guardian angels to shame.

You can’t even say hello.

“Hey.”

Fuck. Get it together. Gentle, silent, strong. 

“Hello?”

But you can’t. Not this time. Just hearing his voice for the first time in weeks has you crumbling, and that damn hole in your chest is unquenchable. 

As soon as your greeting is nothing but a weak sniffle, his change in tone seizes your soul and squeezes.

Because it plummets.

“Where are you.”

There’s quick shuffling and a door opening.

“What’s wrong.” 

Damn it there’s keys jangling and you can’t help but sob even harder knowing exactly what he’s doing. 

Goddamn it, Min Yoongi. He doesn’t have to go home just because you’re what, sad? Pathetic.

You feel way too many things for this man and it fucking sucks that eight million seconds have gone by after you finally acknowledged them.

However many you get with him now, whenever that may be, you’re not taking a single one for granted. 

“Babe, tell me. Now.” 

“Jimin’s. Outside,” you choke out, sniffling and wiping both cheeks. “But nothing happened, Yoongi, I just—It just—” 

“Gimme twenty. Can you do that?” 

Lowering your head and expectations, you huff in sad amusement. 

Of course you can. Twenty minutes is nothing to you now. You can wait until he’s free. “Guess so.” 

“K. Go back inside and grab a bag.” 

Huh? Knitted brows get aimed at your cup as you question him.

“Chips, doll. Jimin has some in the pantry.” 

That doesn’t answer anything, so you remain thoroughly confused. “I’ll be okay,” you respond after a moment, simply assuming he wants you to replenish sodium. “I’m not hungry.”  

“I am.”

You freeze.

So does time.

And the next three seconds are enough.

“But you better bring the good shit or I’m not letting you in the car.”

After camping in the only unoccupied bathroom, you finally get a text that he’s somewhere around the corner. 

And your chest has never felt lighter.

Texting Tae, you let him know that you’re leaving and that you don’t apologize to Jimin for raiding his kitchen. When he responds, that’s when you slip out, your departure a mess of crinkling and racing heartbeats. 

If anyone sees you walking out with chips, you pay them no mind. Because you only care what one person thinks.

And seven minutes later, when you see him doubling over at the bazillion noisy bags in your arms, you laugh along at the absurdity of it all.

It’s almost enough to distract you from what he’s wearing. 

But to your credit, you don’t exactly see the damn rips in his jeans until he opens a back door for you to throw your haul in.

As if the black top wasn’t already disrespectful enough. His hair has even gotten longer, and you really, really like the new length.

“Fucking hustler.”

No second is wasted as you grab his shirt, positively melting at the way he doesn’t resist or shy away at all. 

In fact, he does the exact opposite, crushing you against his warm car so fast he has to brace himself. You welcome the way air leaves your lungs, because you’re giving it all to him with each pass of his lips over yours. 

Both of you know you’re outside, in public, somewhere you can be seen. But, mirroring the last time you kissed under a starry sky, neither of you act like you give a shit.

Just like that, everything that has haunted you fades. The worries, the fears, the doubts. It doesn’t matter how many days have passed, because it feels like he never left. 

And you suddenly know Yoongi is summer.

Endless. 

“Get in,” he rasps through a smirk. “Thief.” 

With a grin spread so wide your cheeks hurt, you respond right as your foreheads meet,

“Anything for you.”

With nothing but the road ahead and him beside you, everything is right with the world.

“You still have to gimme chips.” 

Maybe not quite everything.

Smile ruining your attempted pout, you reach behind your seat to pick a random bag, settling on the easiest one to grab. “You really made me get these just for you, huh? Are you eating?”

“Yes, my love. And I never said that.”

Well. That first sentence will never, ever, ever be unpacked.

As you shakily open the bag, you hope his music hides your shiver, “Such a smartass.”

“You’re the smartass.”

“Don’t act like you aren’t smart, too,” you laugh, tugging down your dress because he has his car pretty cold tonight. “I know you are.” 

When Yoongi reaches to grab some crisps, his blatant stare on your thighs makes you squirm. “Why?” 

“I just… You read.” 

To your chagrin, he laughs in surprise, forcing you to look out the window. 

Which makes you miss the way he turns down the fans. “I’m smart cus I read? How do you even know?”

“You have books under your coffee table,” you answer without doubt as he digs for more chips. “And you don’t have decor just to have it, so…”

He cocks a brow before focusing on the road, licking his fingers and giving you grief. “I moved those, by the way.”

“Em”—you cough—“Embarrassed?”

“Proactive.”

“Huh? For what?”

He can barely contain his spreading curve. “The next time you decide to fuck up my place.” 

Your heartbeat skips as you gawk, and the current song is overshadowed by your playful shouts and tickle attempts. “Oh, bullshit!”

“You soaked—aish—my whole apartment!”

“That was you!”

“No?”

“Yes? I was nice and only got your head wet!”

Yoongi glances at you then, head tilted up in cockiness and wide smirk slicing through your every thought.

And you glitch when you realize why.

Settling back into your seat with arms guarding your shyness, you sniff upward. “Ugh. Whatever… I’m right.” 

He chuckles a bit before making a turn, and the scenery starts getting familiar.

Way too familiar.

Wait, he’s taking you back to your house?

No no no. Why is he taking you there? 

You got into his car fully prepared to go back to his place, consequences and shit be damned. Everything else be damned. One night is all you want right now, and there’s no way you aren’t going without a fight.

All sense of the current mood dissipates when you grip his forearm. “Not there.” 

He flicks his gaze, rolling to a stop at an intersection that’s frighteningly close. And his expression falls when he shifts into park with a sigh. “Babe… We can’t.” 

“I don’t care.”

“I was only gonna bring you back.”

“Baby, please.”

“He’s home—”

“Do you still miss me?” 

He freezes. 

Which gives you a chance. 

Eyes glossy, you use all the seconds you have to say everything you’ve kept to yourself.

Almost everything.

“Because I get it if you don’t. I do. But I really… I really fucking miss you. And not just because of, whatever. But I consider you a friend and fun as hell to be around, and I haven’t”—you inhale, hating how it shakes—“I haven’t been this happy in weeks. And we aren’t even doing anything.” 

Yoongi is completely silent. But that’s okay because you aren’t done. 

“I know you said I wouldn’t see you. But after getting to know you? The real you? …That sucks.” You can’t look at him when his hand slips from the wheel. “I’m not gonna make you change anything, just. Telling you what’s on my mind. Like you said. I’m gonna do that a lot more now.”

He doesn’t say a word as a tear cuts one of your cheeks, and you’re brave enough to look his way again. “But it’s been three months, Yoongi,” you whisper. “Is that still not enough for you?”

Time ticks as you hold your breath, oxygen depleting and lungs nearing collapse as you watch his eyes close. 

You laid everything out on the table. Your words, your thoughts, your pain.

Whatever he decides, though? You’ll respect it. You said what you wanted to say and you won’t take any of it back. If he wants to prolong this, you won’t stop him. If he doesn’t want this anymore… the home in your heart will need repairs, but you’ll live. Somewhat. You don’t know how but somehow. People are like seasons. You’re used to it.

Yoongi’s still way too quiet. 

So, giving up and getting the point, you reach up to open your door.

“Stop.” 

You do. 

And the way he flexes his jaw shoots magma through your veins before he wrenches the car into drive. 

The universe spins as you burst into Yoongi’s apartment, running, bumping, slamming into furniture until you get thrown against his bedroom door. 

Welcoming the pain, you devour his scorching lips, fingers digging into his hair with a desperation that frightens you. All you feel is him him him, barely recalling the manic drive over and the way he all but busted into his own place. 

If there were any lingering doubts to your question, they’re left out in the chill, not allowed to witness the way he hitches your leg up before pinning you firm with his pelvis.

“Shouldn’t be fucking doing this—” 

You moan at the way his jeans feel on your skin, shivers running rampant when you more than feel his hardness poke through. “Please,” you pant, sticking to your word and ready to tell him what you want. 

“Please what.” 

Everything you want. 

Tugging his head back, your admissions rub right against his mouth, “Choke me. Use me. I don’t care, do it all.”

“Huh?”

A breath whooshes out when he yanks you forward with a growl, and you cannot seem to stop, “Don’t be nice. Spit in my mouth. Make me beg like a fucking slut, I need it.”

All the other times, you’ve seen Yoongi break in different ways. 

But this is the first time you’ve felt him legitimately snap. 

“The fuck.”

Lightning strikes the dark as he slams you backward, teeth clinking against yours when he smothers you with saliva and lust. When he shoves his door open, you stumble back, more unholy plans in mind than he imagines. 

You don’t know what’s coming over you. 

Even as you force him sideways to shove into his rolling chair, the piercing look he gives is no match for your inner storm.

“Babe—”

Impatient, you drop to your knees, the pain nothing to you as your fingers twitch over his zipper. As you tug his pants down with force, Yoongi’s outright shock is another first for you.

“Are you su—”

“Let me do this,” you plead upward, and you feel highly motivated when he doesn’t do a thing except let out a low, gritty hum. 

Grabbing at his cock, you already moan at the way it feels in your palm…

Softly, oh so softly, a large hand closes over yours, and you hear your name in a whisper, haze temporarily receding. 

What’s wrong? Does he want you to stop?

When you ask without a word, Yoongi leans forward to capture your lips, and this gives you a warm sort of deja vu. “You drank tonight, yeah?” 

“Yeah…?” Oh. He totally tasted alcohol. And your frantic behavior. He thinks—Oh. 

Understanding what he’s getting at, you reach up and caress his cheek. “I’m not drunk, baby,” you chuckle. “I just missed you.” 

Again, he looks at your eyes, one after the other. When you say it once more for good measure, he kisses you in acceptance. 

“So are you gonna fuck my throat or nah?”

He falls back with a groan, raking his hair and legs spread wide. “What are you doing to me.”

“This.”

Without prompt, you dive head first, leaning forward to take his tip and swirl your tongue all around. Commanding his every drop of attention, you don’t let up as you tug your dress downward, breasts spilling out before you stand just enough to claim his lips. 

He takes full advantage with a devilish curve, smacking your tits before ordering, “Get the fuck back down there.”

And you obey with a proud smirk of your own, hoping he’s liking this new side of you, too. 

Back between his knees, you worship his length in earnest, swallowing him again and again and lathering him in saliva so your hands slide easily on him, too. When you feel his veins rub both your palms, you hear a symphony of lustful baritones.

“Holy fuck.” 

You quickly discover you can’t get enough. Lapping, sucking, sheathing your head on his cock so far your brain smushes upward. He feels so familiar at this point that you realize you missed him even here, knocking the back of your throat and burdening your tongue with heavenly, sinful weight. 

And you feel more familiar palms grip your head, eyes opening to see him staring down with reverence and something you can’t quite decipher. 

“So fucking filthy...” 

You chuckle, the rumble making him hiss and throw his head back against his chair. 

“Don’t do that.” 

You gladly disobey, laughing even harder around him before releasing with an expert pop to suck on his balls. 

“Fuck!”

There’s a slight squeak before he grips you again, and you can tell he’s slipping by the way his moans devolve into breathy, short hisses. 

Breaking, he pushes your head into his sack before slapping your cheek with his cock, and you hum as it slips back inside your grin. 

Yes yes yes. You want him to enjoy this just as much as you do, steal this time together and run with it, need him to hang on the brink of mania where you currently reside. Because even though he’s saying things, you can’t hear them over the wholly impure sounds slopping out of your esophagus. 

“Fucking hell, baby,” he praises, thrusting up slow as you keep him slathered. “Missed that fuckin’ mouth.”

You finally come up for air, gulping in air and letting him see you in all your panting glory. When you lock eyes, his lidded gaze is loaded, aimed only at your taunting stare.

Drool coats you in globs. Your chest, the floor, hanging from your lips as you stroke him with wet fingers before swallowing another time. 

And you think you can do this until your jaw falls off.

But suddenly you’re hoisted upward before being thrown onto soft sheets, legs roughly shifted to one side as you paint the dark with your hoarse giggles. Before you know it, his lips attack your chest, and he’s setting butterflies wild as you arch in record time. 

“Take this off,” he growls, tugging at your dress with sweaty fingers that you want lodged in multiple places. “No more hiding.” 

You mewl, undressing as fast as you’re able, tearing the garment off and flinging it away. But your heels are still on, and whether he’s just as deft at removing those, too, you’ll need to hit pause. “What about my—”

“Don’t,” he grits with brows pinched, and his next vow is absolute, pure sin,

“I’m fucking you with them on.” 

“Oh, fuck.” Your whine is high as you throw your head back, the next groan guttural as you feel a hand smack the side of your ass with force. Your jaw comes loose, soreness shooting through its curve as your legs are erotically parted to give Yoongi a view of everything. 

You know your panties are soaked. 

You know he’s gonna wreck your shit. 

But seeing him eye the whole mess on display before lifting his hungry gaze your way? You’re damn sure you aren’t gonna survive the night. 

Perfect. 

“Please fuck me, baby,” you let out with a tone so soft that you think he doesn’t hear you. 

He does. “I’m gonna do a lot more than that, doll.” 

You tilt your head, confused and wondering what he means. 

But he ignores your wordless question, sliding fingers along your ankle before holding your leg to kiss that same spot. 

The action alone is enough to rewire your brain, but it’s the way he looks so confident, so unbothered, so determined that has your insides churning with want. 

He plants lips there again before shifting his hand down to your calf, yanking your leg back wide and pulling a tiny help out of your throat. When he shifts to grip your other leg, he growls under his breath, 

“So fucking perfect.” 

“No, you,” you counter with a pout, and flinch what the fuck his slap to your cunt felt good. “Hey!”

“None of that,” Yoongi orders with finality. “Not after all that shit you said at the door.” 

“I dunno what happened there,” you admit, inevitably shy under his commanding presence. Your cheeks sizzle before your teeth grip your lip, temporarily brought back to normalcy at his confession,

“Almost made me come.” 

“Be for real.” 

“Damn serious.” 

The cheshire cat would be jealous of your grin. “Then I should keep going?”

“Uh huh.” He cups your whole cunt, and the possessive nature it exudes pushes a whine against your teeth. “Tell me.” 

“Fuck me like you missed me.” 

A groan rips through his room before he swoops down, lips bruising yours on the landing before he shoves his mouth against your neck. 

Tingles erupt over your skin as he laps at your throat, so hard that your entire upper body slides across his rumpled sheets. When you feel his cock rub across your thong and his jeans grazing your skin, his name flies out of your chest. Moans, sighs, everything in between. 

“Careful,” he warns low before another toe-curling lick. “You won’t leave if I did that.”

“I don’t want to,” you grit in return, reaching to sink claws in his hair and tug. “Wanna stay.”

Strong arms wrap around you before you feel him spread liquid fire up your shoulder, and he reaches to nip at your ear before deft fingers flick a nipple. 

His voice rasps against your cheek, but the words sound reluctant to even leave. “You shouldn’t even be here, babe.”

Fuck. You know that’s true but your heart is rattling like a monster starved. 

“Just tonight,” you plead your case. Because you don’t want to be shooed away before it’s over, but if this is all you get, he needs to do something now. “But if you really don’t want this then please kick me out before—”

“Fuck that.” After greedily tweaking your other nipple, he rolls his body against yours, making you fiend for the weighty cock wedged against you with only thin material between. “Fuck all of that.” 

He rushes upward before nudging your leg over with a strong hand, and you fixate on the way his chains hit his chest. Just like always. “Don’t move.”

You don’t even get to breathe twice as he drops from sight, and you yelp to his roof as soon as you feel teeth nick your inner thigh. At your flinch, you feel him grip your leg with force, ordering you even harsher,

“I said. Don’t move.” 

“But—Yoongi!” 

You don’t notice him yank your underwear sideways before flattening a hot tongue against your folds, sucking so good you have to back away from the stimulation. Immediately, both your legs are seized before he tugs you back to him. 

“Uh uh.”

And he keeps your legs apart before diving deep, and you’ve never devolved into a quivering mess so fast in your goddamn life. The way he licks, sucks, kisses just where you need—everything sends thunder through your chest, lightning across your cunt, rain into your eyes. 

You can do nothing but squirm, squeals and whines and high moans leaving arrowheads in his ceiling. 

Holy fuck, did you sound this loud when you worshipped him? Even now, spread wide and willing to give Yoongi the world, you find a moment to be embarrassed in the best way.

If the neighbors hear, you don’t care. They’re gonna know how well he’s feasting on you, how gorgeously corrupt you feel. How you’re his and his alone and ready to scream it to the rooftops. 

When you feel a finger alongside his tongue, the sound you make borders on inhuman. You think it’s his name, but even you aren’t quite sure. 

All you know is that you’re close. Your thighs are burning and your fingers swipe at his locks but he refuses to let you go. “Yoongi—I’m—”

Suddenly.

He stops. 

And every nice thing you have to say to him falls to the wayside. “No no no! Please, fuck—”

The light tap to your cunt makes you quiver, and your chest heaves when he chuckles without pity,

“What’d you say?” 

“Plea—Baby!” 

“Huh?” 

Every fucking time you speak, he taps again. And every time he gets you close, he edges with aggravating control. Again. And again. 

And again.

You exist between reality and fiction, somehow seeing yourself unwinding, winding, spiraling out of control. Words start to form abstract blobs of syllables, your mouth hanging open as he peppers lazy, unbothered kisses on your thighs.  

In your foggy vision, you think you see him stand. And you’re pretty sure he grabs his cock before he’s rubbing his thick head between your folds oh fuck—

“This is what you wanted, huh.” 

Your breath hitches with a whine as you nod.

“You gonna be a good little slut?” 

Oh, you’re gonna be whatever he fucking wants. So you nod again, not without a smile lopsided. 

“Then fucking beg.” 

He smacks his cockhead against your cunt, springing your back in an arch and tugging strings of incoherent speech from your depths. You make hard lines of his sheets as you grip them in both palms, and you don’t wanna know what you’re saying because the way Yoongi’s staring with a smirk has you blacking the fuck out. 

To the point where you’re nothing but a quivering, shaking, restless mess on his bed.

You somehow closed your eyes at some point, because they fly open when you feel his lips on yours, and you tug at his stupidly attractive shirt that he didn’t bother to pull off. “Please,” you whisper, brain floating oceans away. “I need you.”

“Need you, too.” 

He breaks away to grab a condom, and this is when you realize how intertwined you feel because even this distance is too much to bear. You’re spilling nonsense and breathing harsh and you attribute that to the sole fact that you crave release. It’s aching. Consuming. 

Yoongi’s already naked and prepped by the time he positions himself between your sore legs, and you give in without resistance again when he descends on your lips. 

When you whisper his name, he kisses it away, and you briefly wonder why his hands shake running up your sides. 

Finally, finally, finally, he gives exactly what you want, the initial connection stretching you sore because it’s been way too long. And you feel emotional when you don’t even doubt it’s been too long for him, too. 

Because his eyes speak volumes. 

They hold onto your every move, watch your every reaction, hesitate when you blow out air accommodating his size. 

But you lock yours with him when you relax, weakly grasping his jewelry before sliding fingers up his shoulders. When you nod, he pushes in further, both of you sighing in tandem. 

And as soon as you whisper you’re ready, all niceties fly out the window. 

You’re thrusted up his bed with a determined stroke before he sets a pace, and your head kicks back as soon as a hand captures your neck. 

“Look at me,” he commands, and he gives you a light pat on the cheek before squeezing your jaw. “Open up.”

When you do, spit flings from his mouth into yours, and you already sprint to the edge feeling the weight of your heels and the strength of his body. “Fuck!”

You get pat again—rougher this time—before Yoongi goes to choke you a second time. “What do you say?”

“Me?” you pant, tearing the first thought from your throat when he grits it again. “Thank—” 

Fuck, his dick is hitting every spot you need it to. It takes you a second to repeat your garbled guess in full, knowing it’s something you would’ve said anyway. “Thank you.”

“Now swallow.” 

As soon as he shoves inside, your obedience is your undoing. The skies open to welcome you as your body locks, thighs squeezing his taut sides as he moans through your release. Waves tug you unbelievably far, and you almost lose yourself in the swell before you crash onto shore again.

“Such a whore for me,” Yoongi praises, kicking you back to the very first night and making you melt. When you peel eyelids open, you notice his smile matches yours, and the shared, cherished memory smoothens your gravelly laugh.

“Love when you do that,” you admit, shaking your head at your own strange preferences. “Don’t know why.” 

“Me neither.” He spears you again with a cheeky lip bite. “But it’s so fucking hot.” 

Your grin can’t be contained, and this is where you wanna be. Right here. Nowhere else in the fucking universe. 

“I’m ready,” you pant, and he gives you a brief look of affection—which you shatter with force. “Fuck the shit out of me.” 

Yoongi twitches madly inside your core as he expels a pained, breathy laugh. “Goddamn, this isn’t good for me.” 

“What?” 

“Nothing.” He doesn’t waste a second gathering your calves while you ponder what he says. “Hold these pretty legs up for me. There you go.”

When you find the easiest way to do so, you marvel at how shaky and slippery your thighs are, wondering if the rest of you is faring any better. 

It’s not. 

But you can’t dwell on that now because Yoongi is holding on like he’ll lose you, resuming a delicious pace and smacking your hips into his with the most indecent sounds. 

Your whines soon join in, and his hums of satisfaction fuel your ever going flame. Heaven and earth could move and you would remain here, suspended in time as he fills you perfectly with every fast stroke. 

“Feel so good—”

When he leaves your cunt, you mewl before he grunts, “Fucking—Get up.” 

What is he— 

You’re hoisted upward so quickly that you see starlight, not even registering the clanks and shifts of items before he’s spinning to pin you down on a solid surface. Your heels find purchase on the floor but your knees prove unbelievably weak.

What’s—

Oh fuck, are you on his desk?

Your hands retreat until they find an edge to grab, and you moan outright when you feel his fingers slide up your cunt, shoving your thong farther over one side of your ass. 

“Yoongi—”

You feel full in an instant, jaw going slack as he shoves you backwards on his cock, praises washing down your back as he pushes down any arches you instinctively make. 

“Uh uh. Stay like that.” 

“I wanna—” Your words are cut off with a whine as you feel a sting on your ass. “Fuck!”

“There you go.” 

The rock of the desk is so strong that every bang against the wall booms loud, equipment sliding back and forth and making you briefly worry if anything will fall.

But this is the most turned on you’ve ever, ever felt, and you have no fucking clue why.

You wonder if he feels the same right before his dark laugh consumes you.

“Goddamn.” 

Your hands are grabbed before he shoves you forward, letting more of your body lie on the surface so that he can pin sweaty arms at your back. 

Oh, fuck!

Your moans glide across wood as he doesn’t let up, and you don’t even want to know how much drool will exist on his desk when you’re done. Maybe you’ll never be done. Maybe he really will keep you here forever, and you’ll soak his whole—

“Come here.” 

He gathers your wrists in one large palm before reaching to grip your chest, hauling you up and securing you against his body by the throat. 

And you think your soul just left your earthly vessel. 

Pressing you further into him, he grits in your ear, 

“Never fucking kicking you out.” His tight stroke launches you across space. “Don’t even think about saying that again.” 

When did you— You said— Why don’t you remember—

You go limp when he shoves into you again, but your heels wobble and you focus damn hard on staying upright. 

But Yoongi doesn’t give a shit. “You hear me?” When you let out a breathy confirmation, he still isn’t satisfied. A hand pats your cheek before he asks again, “Say it louder.” 

“Yes!”

“Good.”

He drops all talk, pistoning in from behind while you take it and take it and love it. Mercifully, he lets your sore arms go to pin you down again, gritted words and curses dancing with your high-pitched sighs. 

Fuck, his strokes are so deep that you see into the next universe, and you don’t think your mouth has been shut ever since you made contact with his desk. 

Maybe he was more frustrated than you were. He’s using you as stress relief like you intended, and his roughness is a fantastic surprise. 

It’s just what you need. Which kicks you into a whole other level of want and the beast inside you transforms yet again. 

When Yoongi yanks himself out, you’re quick to spin and shove him backward. As he flops onto the bed, he laughs like sin incarnate when you pounce, his hot hands grabbing at your hips and encouraging your behavior in the nastiest way.

“Let’s go then, pretty bitch.”

“You already fucking know.”

“Show me what I’ve been missing.”

“Don’t fall in love.” 

When you sink onto him, Yoongi’s already groaning. But when you start to swivel at a pace that will render you sore, he begins to lose it. 

“Fuck.”

His head kicks back, eyes shut and brows pinched to hell. After holding your waist, he has to slap his sheets to squeeze even tighter, chest marred with red under pretty silver. 

You make sure every rotation is full, slowly rocking with each circle you make and gritting teeth at how fucking big he is.

Soon, his hisses devolve into groans, and he snaps his head back up to slap your breasts—one after the other before gripping your hips so hard you welcome the pain. 

“Fuck, I missed this pussy,” he confesses with husk, and you whine in response as you lower yourself to kiss him deep. 

“It missed you, too.”

Coming back up, you dig one of your hands in his mattress while bracing on him with the other, and you close your eyes in bliss as you arch your tits toward his hungry lips. 

Just like you want, he chuckles in satisfaction as he suckles, lolling his tongue all around before giving your nipple  a hard suck. His noises remind you of lollipops, and you briefly think of a few fun things you could do with those for next time.

But a hand juts up to seize the back of your neck, forcing you to arch in place as he starts thrusting hard. 

“Yoongi!”

“Uh huh.”  

Before you can talk again, his other hand joins in to choke you just enough, and you find yourself teetering on a precipice. Holy fuck, holy fuck, you’re close again.

“You gonna come?”

A frantic nod.

“Then come.” 

As soon as you hear the words, you do exactly that, windpipe released just as you pulse around him incredibly hard. The waves prove tsunamis, and you dangle from their crests before plummeting and tumbling below. Your moan extends as he thrusts erratically through your quivers, encouraging you and digging rough fingers into your hips. 

“Again.” 

Somehow, that’s enough to make your body obey, and you cry out as you flutter around his trembling cock, hearing him talk you through it but not quite understanding what he’s saying. 

Maybe you also choose not to listen because of what you think you hear, and you don’t want to be haunted if you realize later on what you thought you heard wasn’t true. 

The world rotates up as Yoongi sits up, and you sling arms around him as he leans back on his hands. Your breath hitches at the new angle he’s filling you at, and your eyes swirl when he coolly, confidently commands, 

“Again.” 

You can’t you can’t you can’t but you can. Holy fuck apparently you can, and this time, it consumes you so hard your eyes roll back enough to see the past. Past you, insecure and meek and scared to say what they want. 

Oh, if they could witness you now. 

You shudder impossibly hard around him, coated with his deep chuckles and dashing, ego-ridden grin. It’s all you see before you slump against his chest, heartbeat pounding against yours when you can’t feel any bone in your body.

One breath.

Two breaths.

Two hearts.

One night is enough.

“So fucking perfect.”

“For you,” you wisp out, lost in galaxies. “Only you.” 

He can only kiss the side of your head in response, gently lowering you both onto spent cotton and helping you straighten out your muscle-locked legs. When he asks if you’re okay, you can only nod, and he plants another kiss on your temple before sliding off his protection. 

Both of you take time to calm down, breaths heavy from what felt like a marathon. But a much better marathon than the one you’ve had to endure over the last three months. 

When you lie against his chest, you silently thank him for giving you tonight. It’s the riskiest thing you’ve ever done with him, but you won’t worry about it. Not right now. Not when you feel more at home here than your own house. 

Your brother is right. Something is definitely missing over there. 

It’s when your pants have relaxed into soft breaths that you nudge your head against Yoongi’s chest, eyes shut in peace as he lazily draws circles on your back. 

And the first words he says in minutes inject sparkles into your eyes,

“I need to re-up this damn cat’s food.” 

Oh, shit!

Your outright squeal is surely coming out too loud but you don’t care. Don’t care don’t care don’t care not when Yoongi just gave away so many different things. 

This man leaned right into the whole thing.

“I knew it!” You proclaim in triumph, smacking his thigh while hearing a very elongated ‘shut up’ at your side. “Tried to hide it from me all these months? Somebody’s getting soft.”

“First off.”

“Uh huh.”

God. If only you both could go on one of those late night shopping trips he talked about before. Maybe you could’ve gotten plenty of things. Like some little cat toys, or extra storage cabinets for your clothes. 

Yeah. Stuff like that. 

“I’m her favorite.” 

Your scoff is immediate as you hoist yourself up, leaning on your hand and regretting the burn in your arm. “Only because you gatekeeped her.”

A soft disagreement precedes a more prominent, “Won’t even matter.”

Yoongi looks so at peace when you stare, and your voice calms to match as it floats down, “You took care of her.”

When he only smiles, you decide that this is how you want him to be all the time. Content and outright glowing, fireflies dancing in his eyes. 

Does he feel at home, too? 

“She was gonna be your surprise,” he finally murmurs. “For getting the gig.”

Heart and tear ducts full, you lower yourself to tenderly press lips to his. And, since it seems to work for you, his forehead is what you decide to kiss next. 

Then you pull away.

Wondering why he’s not smiling anymore. 

“Come here.”

You blink, lying back down to snuggle against his side. When his arm wraps around your shoulder, it's only then that you’re aware you still have shoes on. A clean person, you hope Yoongi doesn’t mind them touching his sheets. 

But maybe it’s a tad too late for that concern. 

“How are you gonna get home?”

Oh, right. You use his chest to scratch an itch in your nose before responding, “I’ll call a ride in the morning. He’ll be out cold until noon at the earliest.” 

“K.” 

“Did I keep you from anything?”

A puff flies out his nostrils. “Kinda late for that, huh.” 

“True,” you sigh, berating yourself for thinking a lot of things too late. “Sorry.”  

“But no, we were finishing up when I called.” 

“Okay… Did I scare you?” You lift your eyes then, because you need to know for sure. 

When he levels a look, you curse at his quiet confirmation. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” 

“S’ok.” 

“I just… It hurt tonight.” Emotion washes over your face before you bury it. “Really hurt.” 

After a light squeeze, Yoongi gently rolls you over, resting his head exactly where your hand clutches your chest. When you move your fingers, he kisses that same spot, and your heart stops. “How about now.” 

Feeling the deepest pain you’ve ever felt in your life, you cradle his head with a whisper, 

“Maybe try that one more time.”

And he does, not looking at your tears as he sits up to peer down the bed. 

When he scoots down to the edge, your breath catches as he holds a heel in sure hands, his back beautiful even with the scars. While he works through leather straps, he starts to speak, 

“I always do, babe.” 

Blinking, you ask what he means as he slips your shoe off with ease.

“Miss you.”

As he tenderly holds the other, you gulp in oxygen to quell the sear around your eyes. “I just… Wasn’t sure,” you admit, voice wavering. 

His hair falls forward when he sighs, and his palms feel way too relaxing to just be taking your heels off. Even now, it feels like he’s revering you. And you truly don’t know how you deserve any of this. 

“That’s my fault.” 

Throat small, you’re swift to reassure him. “No, no. I need to just suck it up. I’m sorry.” 

After freeing your other foot, he rubs it without prompt, and you don’t know how to deal with someone giving you this level of care. 

“Just a little bit longer, doll,” he says, and you admire his profile when he turns. “I’m sorry.” 

“You gave me tonight.” 

When he swallows, you reassure him with all the support you can give, 

“A little longer is nothing.” 

A moment passes by before he finally moves, and you catch a hint of a smile right before he faces his disheveled to hell desk again. 

Deciding that conversation has concluded, you crack the atmosphere with a joke, “You liked whatever happened over there, huh.”

Immediately, Yoongi’s shoulders bob with a laugh before he admits, “Fucking you on my desk? I’ve wanted to do that for months.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He leans forward. “There’s a lot of shit I’ve wanted us to do for months.” 

Us.

Thoroughly giddy and full of life again, you egg him on. “Oh? Like what?”

Finally, he looks over his shoulder with a grin, and you scoff in frustration at his answer,

“What’s the fun in telling you?”

“Ass!”

While you’re getting ready to shower, he leans against the doorframe of his bathroom.

“We have a game next week.” 

As you fetch a towel from his cabinet, you clarify, “The championship, right?”

“Mmhmm.” 

“I’ll be there,” you confirm, walking away to slip the thick cloth over its rack. “I can’t believe it’s still going.” 

“Same. But there’ve been a lot of delays, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” Your hand feels out the water, satisfied with its temperature. “I meant your win streak but whatever.” 

And you squeal when he rushes forward, shutting the glass with a wobbly thud before he can get to you. When you stick out a childish tongue, you laugh under the spray, curve slowly, curiously, softly fading when he simply keeps staring.

What’s he doing?

You don’t move as he slowly slides the entrance open again, and you don’t dare breathe as he leans inside to kiss your wet lips.

When you tenderly take one of his wrists and pull, he obliges without hesitation, and you take another shower with the man that sets fireworks off in your soul. 

An hour later, filled with food and laughter—and slight disappointment when you couldn’t find your surprise near his door—you occupy his bed with full bellies and fresh minds. 

As he lies on your chest, you think this is better, because it gives you time to think about things. And tell him about others. 

You finally tell him what all happened with Jungkook, to which he listens without a single word. When you can’t seem to shut up about your job, he doesn’t stop you, and you adore the way he cuddles you under faint moonlight cutting through his window. 

“Oh, wait,” you stop, feeling like you’ve talked his head off by now. “What did you call about?”

“Huh? Tonight?” 

“Yeah.” 

“We finally have a confirmed date. For that album,” Yoongi rumbles against the shirt he let you borrow. “I was gonna invite you to the release party.”

Whoa, what the fuck? “Me?”

He chuckles soft, and you wonder if he can guess how shocked you look. “Yes, you. All of y’all.” 

At least it’s everyone. But at the same time, you still hesitate. “That won’t be weird?” 

“Nah. You can bring anyone you want, so. I was assuming you’d bring your friends.” 

“Ah, I see.”

You didn’t mean to sound disappointed. You truly aren’t. But Yoongi pushes up to comfort you anyway, planting kisses along your skin, your neck, and finally your lips. 

“It won’t be the only one,” he promises. “We got time.”

“Duh,” you giggle. “And I’ll be at all of them. Whether you like it or not.” 

Yoongi regards you before laying his weight back on your chest. And you find it strange how familiar his body already feels. How you’re already attuned to every way his legs fit against your own, or how you would know it’s him solely based on how his chest molds with yours. 

You start mindlessly caressing his hair, fingers weaving through a dark sea of strands before smoothing over its surface. 

And you start to hum.

It’s not really any song, just notes you start stringing together at random. You build up before you dip back down, staying in a comfortable middle range and dancing between similar tones. 

You stop from time to time, trying to figure out what would sound best next and changing up the cadence. Always coming back to a central theme because it’s what you deem best.

And you’re so comfortable that you completely forgot he’s lying right under your chin.

“Shit, was I too loud?”

He just shakes his head, arm pressing a bit more into your side. 

“Not at all.” 

So you keep going, humming more familiar tunes and phrases, softly giggling when Yoongi huffs at the way you drum on his head. 

And that’s how the night goes on, with you at peace and him in your embrace.

Never noticing how the shirt you're wearing collects rain.

When dawn breaks, you part with one final, heavenly kiss. 

Yoongi watches until you get in the ride he politely called for you, and you spend the whole drive with eyes filled with light. 

You can do this. Just a little longer, he said.

For him, you can do anything. 

But when you get home, your brother occupies the foyer as soon as you open the front door.

And you feel the world shatter and crash at your feet.

“I think,” he states, “There’s something you wanna tell me.”  

—

—

—

tbc. :) 

—

a ha ha... what do we think/like! | wanna support with a 🍊?

A/N: i’m so swirly-eyed that i don’t even know what to say here other than i’m sorry for throwing that ending at y’all! busted pt. 2 is gonna be its own huge part at this point so i had no choice but to end it here (originally it was gonna end before they went back to yoongi’s but i love y’all too much dlkfjdsklf)  A/N 2: gonna say this again: enormous thank you to everyone supporting this whole journey, whether that’s liking/commenting/reblogging/messaging, recommending this series to people, telling me how it makes you feel or what it means to you, or even wanting a physical copy of the series like😭 that’s surreal to me and makes me wanna keep working harder.  A/N 3: as far as feedback, i would absolutely love any type y’all wanna give. this chapter took all of my brainpower and the next one is gonna take just as much haahahahdksfks so any encouragement would be wonderful!  ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ three tangerines masterlist ⇥ masterlist 

[blkkizzat]

Woooh I've been a bit MIA for the most part lately but it's been for good reason...Kali I'm on the last chapter before proof.. my book is damn near DONE BABES! And unfortunately not a speck of smut in sight but there might be a love scene in the sequel. Unfortunately, my parents have to read this novel as it's hopefully going to be my debut and I 100% refuse to let them know what I find hot. They don't deserve that.

I'm also writing a Sample Writing piece so I can go back to school. So I'm giving myself more work.

I never got my fried cheese, but the craving went away with my time of the month, so I'm okily dokily.

I generally ONLY like mozz sticks and cheese curds from a greasy bar. Is it the best place to eat? NO. BUT if I have one more cheese curd served with a three house sauces and not ONE of them is marinara I'm going to freak. Worse is when they try to give you No sauce and then say, we don't serve marinara. Then why tf do you have cheese curds?

Anyway... onto my thoughts this evening.

Big celebrations with ya mans. I'm thinking

Gojo, has to go all out. He takes the day off. He showers you in gifts (nothing expensive just things he knows you like) take you out to an elaborate dinner to top before taking you home and making you forget your name. Like you aren't sure what happened or how you ended up on the kitchen counter, but Gojo's house keeper is not entertained when she finds you both naked on her previously clean counter

Geto is more low key and sophisticated a good dinner, some dancing. He let's you pick your favorite spot out and orders you the good dessert. You get home and yes he does pipe you down. Respectfully.

Nanami, he does not like going out. Something about him screams home body to me. He cooks you dinner. Candles, flowers, the whole 9 just at home. He still gets dressed nicely. Lays out a pretty dress so you feel sexy. His reward to you for your celebration is like 4 orgasms on his tongue. He doesn't ask for reciprocation, this night's about you..but you give it to him anyway.

Toji... you're getting dick. Metaphorically and physically. Like he's not buying you shit but he is dicking you down. Like can't walk the next day Dicking you down. You can't even complain. You're satisfied. Your toes barely move without twitching. He does, however, make you toaster waffles the next morning. With orange juice.

Choso...sweet baby that he is...plans something elaborate ..that does not happen. He planned to do the Nanami thing and cook for you and give you a nice relaxing day. But he failed to remember he could not cook. Nearly burnt the damn apartment down. Instead, he orders your favorite take out. Puts on your favorite movie and let's you put your cold ass feet just under his legs to keep them warm. You end up making love on the couch while he's praying you don't smell the burnt food he had to throw away...you do but it's okay cause he's cute.

One stress done and another ready to beat my ass- 🧠

🧠nonny! sorry ml ive been so tired and busy myself i couldnt get to your ask, i have a little back log i still need to get through 😭.

First congrats on your book! That's amazingggg! Smut isn't needed and yeah definitely not if your parents are going to read it 😭😭.

Oooh are you going to go back to school for writing? I love the commitment!

"Worse is when they try to give you No sauce and then say, we don't serve marinara. Then why tf do you have cheese curds?"

NO OKAY CAUSE REAL!!! Or if you can tell the marinara they are using is old/not fresh, urgh.

Also fhjdasfkjhagdfhjab lmfao i know gojo house cleaner would quit if she wasnt getting paid so well. i cant imagine the messes she be coming across. but totally agreed!

Oooh and Geto! I bet hes such a good dancer too, so smooth. I see him being good at salsa and that shit be so touchy/sensual y'all ripping each other clothes off by the time you get home.

Ah yes, Nanami home is his castle! I can also imagine that with lots of flower petals, candles and essential oil. you'd feel like you were somewhere else the way he'd transform your living room.

TOJI MY MANNNNNNN. LISTEN I WILL GLADY TAKE THE TOASTER WAFFLES AND OJ (THAT I BOUGHT AT THE GROCERY STORE) OVER ANYTHING ELSE!!! <333

"Puts on your favorite movie and let's you put your cold ass feet just under his legs to keep them warm."

SEE IM CRYING NOW CAUSE THATS MY BABY GIRL AND THAT IS A NECESSITYYYY!!!! I absolutely love that, esp cause my feet are always cold tbh. He's so cuteeee ahhhh i love him. This was super cute!

What about Sukuna though? I feel like he would need Uraume to remind him of the big event, then Uraume would fine out what you like, buy it and then sukuna will give it to you lmfaoooo

[someotherdog]

get to know the author!

name : velouria! mutuals can call me rachel if they want since it's my real name but i respond to both

pronouns :  she/her

preference of communication : i prefer tumblr im to start with so we can get to know each other and do some light plotting. then move onto discord for in-depth plotting if our personalities mesh well :)

most active muse :  i go through phases where i'll have a lot of muse for a certain few one week and then lose their voice the next week lol, and a lot of the muses i have are quite selective because their setting/personality is very specific and can sometimes be hard to tap into. generally, i'm always rarin' to go with jeannie, ingrid, lisa, gideon, heidi, vikram, and taher. (now actually getting people to rp with these hoes is the hard part lmao)

experience / how many years : i don't want to talk abt it... jk, i started in 2005 i believe? on myspace mainly and i lurked a few message boards back in the day but never actually used them. i wasn't always roleplaying though, i'd often take long breaks throughout the years, sometimes for months, but it's been a part of my life for a long time! after myspace shut down, i went on to roleplayer.me until 2015 when one day i saw an rpg promo in devon bostick's tag (that name's a blast from the past, i know) and i subsequently made the permanent switch to tumblr :) so you can pretty much consider me a veteran around these parts. i remember the days when people used the cast of one tree hill when it was actually currently airing as fcs (or playbys, as we called them) and every third muse was named seraphina!!!

best experience : i think one of the best times i had on here was during christmas 2015 in the rpg hell state bc it was very active and i had a lot of good storylines going! the best time i had on rp.me was the group verse i had for a knockoff of terra nova called alia terra, which i actually made into an rpg on here and then made a closed verse between lucia and i so we could continue some dino fun! but i did it on rp.me shortly before i made the switch to tumblr so i kinda roll that all into one. i mean don't get me wrong i've had some great experiences on here, and lately have been having an amazing time with my writing partners, new and old, but those two are events that stick out in my mind. and also meeting lucia in 2015 duhhh of course!!!!!!!

rp pet peeves : honestly i don't want to say bc i don't want to hurt anyone's feelings or discourage people from writing with me lmfao, but i'll just say it has to do with dropping articles and using two certain french words 😬😬😬

fluff, angst, or smut : if i could crush up angst and snort it i would. i don't write smut (just a personal choice, not a judgment!) and fluff doesn't really interest me unless there's an undercurrent of angst or toxicity lmaooo, but i'm mostly interested in genre fiction like horror/slasher or sci-fi anyway and angst is kind of a package deal with those topics

plots or memes : i like to start with a general idea and then just kinda improvise. i also don't mind having structed plot points like going from a > b > c but having the freedom to do what we want in between those points. i also have absolutely no issue with changing or adding things as we go along! i'm basically very hype for anything

long or short replies : i'm a wordy bitch! when it comes to replies, i tend to stick with 2-4 for my 'shorter' threads but i have no issue getting up to 5-9 paragraphs if i'm really feeling something. no worries about matching length, btw, as long as it's not egregious like getting a few sentences in response when i wrote you four paragraphs, because i feel that's just rude. i also tend to start out small and get bigger as we go on, since i do like to begin with a general idea and add on from there

time to write : so before i started my current job, i only wrote at night because writing when the sun was up seemed morally wrong lmfao. nowadays, i sometimes write my replies at work on my google drive and then edit/format them once i get home, but that's only when i work alone and it's not super busy, and i actually have writing muse for that day. after work, i'll get on after midnight since i don't get home until late and need to put on my jammies, take off my makeup, eat dinner, and watch some tv. even on my days off, i most likely won't get on until late in the night because my family actually has the audacity to want to see me during the daylight hours 🙄

are you like your muses : i have a lot of muses that share similarities with myself, but i also have muses i have absolutely nothing in common with, like blair the satanic serial killer or lauren the son of a cult leader turned political campaign manager. more than likely they'll have something random from me like also being allergic to penicillin or they drive a buick like i do lmao, but i don't have a muse i would really consider my 'self-insert' character!

tagged by: @thewolfruns

tagging: i feel like everyone has been tagged to do this already?? so if you haven't, pretend i did so you can have some fun too :)

[avawritesthings]

nsfw alphabet | mt19

[1,129 words] matthew tkachuk x fem!reader

summary - a-z of pure matthew tkachuk nsfw

contents - mentions of smut

ava’s notes - genuinely thought this was longer, but it isn’t LMFAO. matty’s been my fav for a while now and i’m finally posting something for him! hope you enjoy :)

masterlist

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He makes sure to take care of you once everything has settled down. He cleans you up with a warm, wet towel and kisses you sweetly, telling you how good you were for him. About 80% of the time, he curls up next to you and naps with you. 

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Matthew’s favorite body part on himself are his hands. He likes gripping onto your love handles while fucking into you from behind, and loves how quickly you cum on his fingers when he fingers you. His fingers hold so much power over you, and he loves it. Matthew’s also caught you staring at his hands once in a while. 

His favorite body part(s) on you are your tits. He falls asleep holding one or the other, he loves holding onto them while fucking you, and loves how squishy they are, no matter how big or small they are. He adores your boobs and will forever be a boob man. 

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically…)

He likes to cum in you, but is also perfectly fine with cumming on your face, chest, back, tummy, etc. 

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Matthew has fantasized of you getting a tattoo of either his initials of his jersey number, #19. He’s possessive like that. 

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

I’d like to say that Matthew is indeed experienced. He’s gotten around, and definitely knows what he’s doing.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying.)

Doggy, but a close second is missionary but with a leg crossed over. Also loves seeing you on top of him, grinding your pussy on his dick, or bouncing on top of him while watching your tits bounce as well.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He’s more serious than goofy, wanting to pleasure you multiple times before he receives anything. 

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He keeps it trimmed. 

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He’s romantic when he wants to be, and makes you feel as special as possible. 

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He’s jacked off to you while on away trips. (He steals a panty or two before leaving)

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Matthew likes to spank you and watch as your ass reddens under his touch. 

I’d also like to say he gets turned on when he sees you in his jersey, with his last name in large letters, and his number plastered on your back. 

Matthew loves to praise you and worships your body, sucking harshly on your delicate skin before watching bruises from where his lips once were. 

Another kink he has is watching you ride his thigh, if that’s considered a kink. Watching you fall apart on just his thigh turns him on so much. The way your bare cunt feels on his thick thigh…how wet you get by grinding on him… He actually has came in his pants once or twice before. 

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Preferred place is the bed, but anywhere works. Car, couch, kitchen counter, shower (another personal favorite of Matthew’s), and maybe even up against a wall. 

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

You and only you. You could literally walk past him and he immediately gets a stiffy. 

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anal. Sorry to all the people who think he’d be into that. And also pegging. 

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He loves giving oral. He loves looking up through his eyelashes and seeing your face scrunch up while eating you out. 

If he’s on the receiving end of oral, he isn’t complaining. Matthew can’t help but pull your hair into a makeshift ponytail and slightly gag you on his dick. 

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

If he’s angry or worked up, it’s fast and rough. On the other hand, if he just wants lazy, sleepy morning sex, it’s romantic and loving. 

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He prefers to take his time with you, but if you don’t have the time, then Matthew will absolutely fuck you fast and hard.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Matthew’s definitely up to experiment. Taking risks, like fucking in a semi-public place, then he’s up for it, but you’ve gotta keep quiet. 

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

I’d like to think he could go multiple rounds before stopping. (He boasts about how long he can last, let’s be honest)

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

If he’s away on a road trip and can’t be there to satisfy you himself, then he’ll let you use a toy to get yourself off, whether it be a vibrator or a dildo. 

When he has the time, Matthew loves to facetime you and watch you fuck yourself, while simultaniously pleasuring himself as well. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s very much a tease. Matthew likes to see you getting all worked up before giving you what you really, really want. 

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He grunts and lets out quiet moans, letting you know how good you make him feel. Dirty talk is guaranteed every goddamn time. 

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Matthew likes to fuck your tits and cum on your chest and face. 

Another wild card is that he loves to spoil you. Tickets to a home game, some glamorous necklace, or a spa day, he’ll do it with love. 

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Average length, a little on the thicker side. Proud of his size. 

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

High. Need I say more?

Matthew’s sex drive is high. He’s in a relationship with the most beautiful and sexy girl in the world, how could he not want you on a daily basis? He definitely lets you know too, whether it be straight up telling you or teasing you until you give in. 

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He makes sure you’re taken care of before holding you close, laying his head against yours, and sleeping soundly. 

—

this is just my opinion !!! don’t take it too seriously :)

[gluion]

OH MY GOD! we are DEFINITELY going to be needing a 2nd part of “surrender to me”. it is ABSOLUTELY AMAZING! the tension, the yearning, KIM SUNWOO IS GOING TO BE THE DEATH OF ME! thank you for giving us a wonderful work, hopefully there’s going to be a next part (we definitely need to know what will happen between sunwoo & ms. leader)

oh lovely anon THANK YOU 🥹 whoever you are thank u! the funniest thing is that if u read my author’s note, it’s literally my first time writing smut. and i could just remember going through like how many different emotions (some being screaming to my irl abt writing smut and having to take some breaks just regain my composure LMFAO) so i am glad that u enjoyed it!!

if more people seem to receive it well, i will def consider making more parts (but that wont be a priority since i’ll be working on some other fics [some will have smut so stay tuned for that!] and hopefully be able to write p in v type of smuts) 🥹 hopefully i will also improve my smut writing over time!!

but again THANK YOU 🙇 it’s crazy like i didnt think too much when it came to planning it out and it has received so a ton of notes faster than my other works HELP? thank u for ur lovely message anon!! it gen means so much to me as a writer

[vampoccult]

Control || ada mesmer x reader 

````````This fanfic will probably have multiple parts. I'm thinking at least 2. I'll post the update later on. There are NSFW mentions here and there. Next part will mostly be NSFW. MINOR MADE'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

----------

She smelled like soft vanilla. A fragrance that simply could not be bought from a store. No, it was a natural scent that only seemed to come off of women that were always in control, always dominant. 

You noticed the way she looked at you, far before she began to take action. You saw how she always seemed to stare. She looked like she wanted to be in control of your mind, your body.

You don’t think that you’d mind it, actually. Maybe it’d be good to let go. 

But this was a job. Getting into relationships was the last thing on your mind. You had to keep focus for your family, for your livelihood. 

One-night stands would do nothing but detriment that.

—----

She had cloudy dark blue eyes. They often seemed lost in thought, aside from the times it was something that she was interested in. Then, the cloudiness seemed to disappear completely. They even seemed to shine, just like the dark sky bright with moonlight. Whenever she was studying or conducting experiments about hypnosis, they would shine. Whenever she was around those she found interesting, they would shine.

Unfortunately (Fortunately? You don’t know the answer), they would shine around you, too. 

You were her lab partner, assisting in her labs to the best of your ability. You tried staying focused, but you found her so, so distracting. How could a woman be so pretty? So beautiful. Her hair would probably be so soft to put your hands through…

Stay focused, you told yourself. It was difficult, though. You hated to admit it, but she seemed to already be in control before you had begun to notice.

Her eyes, oh how they sparkled. How could eyes that seemed so dark shine so brightly? The way she would smile at you. A soft look, something you’d never see when she was concentrating. It made you want to melt into her arms and thank her for the experience. She often spoke to you quietly, with a little hint of something domineering. Something that showed that she knew she was above her. You knew long before that she was the type, yet you couldn’t find the feeling to hate her. 

Her hands were so soft. It felt like she had done nothing hard at work, but you had seen the things she had done for experiments, for the pursuit of knowledge. It made no sense how her hands turned out like that, but nothing Ada did made sense. Maybe it did in her mind, and soon it would in yours as well. She would often touch you, to signal her appearance. A light touch to your shoulder, or maybe a gentle push. Her love language was likely touch, but you could also counter with that maybe it was speech.

She never ceased to compliment you. Constantly insisting that it was needed, for you were too “sweet and pretty” to not be called out on it. A light giggle would often follow the compliment, which made you heat up. You would try your best to compliment back, as a way of thanks, but she would say that there was no need. 

A light smile feathered over her face.

“It’s like being complimented by a Goddess. I can’t allow you to do that when you’re already so magnificent, now can I?” 

It felt like time had stopped. You had never heated up so badly in your life. It felt like your entire body was on fire. She laughed at the sight, and you couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at yourself too. 

The way she said it, with the way she looked, had yet to leave your mind. 

She was already in control of your mind, it seems. You didn’t have the mind to care. —--

Her hands truly felt like fire with the way they spread across your body. It almost seemed like she had already mapped it out, with the way her hands slid through the curves. Maybe she really had mapped it out; as she was always staring.

Your mind felt like it had slowed down considerably, almost as if it were in a haze. You couldn’t think nearly as clearly as you could before. The only thought you had was Ada, Ada, Ada. 

She had taken over your mind completely, as least for this period of time. 

You knew it was too late when she had pressed her body up to yours, a sly smile on her lips. Her warm breath that smells like fresh mint had your mind clouding up before you could even ask what she was doing. Her dark blue eyes were so clear, just like the ocean during midnight. Her hands had drifted to your waist, holding you in place. She put her face near your ear, and for the first time since she started, you began to hear clearly.

“Ahh, you smell so good. New perfume?”, she said. 

You felt yourself stuttering out a response, “Oh, n-no. No new perfume.” You couldn’t help but avert your eyes from her. You couldn’t help but think that if you did, you’d be stuck in her grasp for eternity. 

She was almost similar to a siren, you thought. With the way her voice had you following. 

You could hear her giggle softly, a cute sound you wouldn’t mind listening to. “I can’t help but find you amusing,” she started, her hands beginning to wander. “You’re awfully adorable. You wouldn’t mind it if I had you all to myself, would you?” Her body felt incredibly hot against yours.

You shook your head, a no being seen forming on your lips. Ada pressed her head into your neck, and her body shook slightly with laughter. 

“I knew it would be easy… I think I’m going to have fun with you.” You could feel the smile on her lips. 

The night would be long, you wondered.