#so it’s little something from my drafts to keep me going

[julymusings]

Jason Todd & Cooking

I always go back and forth on how much I want to include "Jason loves to cook" in my writing because I'm not sure how much is canon and how much is fanon so can we open it up to discussion pretty please I'd love to hear other people's thoughts.

Here are my arguments:

Experience: Jason grew up poor and largely had to parent himself. So he must know a little bit of cooking, even if it's the bare basics that's only enough to keep him alive. It's plausible this taught him how to be creative and thrifty with meals because he had to make do with whatever he had, so we can assume that if you drop him in a kitchen with random ingredients, he can figure something out.

Knife skills: I've seen other authors (myself included) write him as good in the kitchen because he's efficient with a knife from being a vigilante. I don't have much to say on this, just that I think that's also a fair assumption considering he underwent training with the League of Assassins and became highly-skilled with wielding blades.

Love language: He's the kind of person who, due to his trauma, has difficulty opening up to people and trusting them (it's confirmed he cries during sex so this is an objective fact idc). When it comes to having a romantic partner, it might not be easy for him to express affection through words, so he relies on actions. If you like flowers, he buys you flowers. If you like a dish, he makes it for you. So yeah, this might not have concrete evidence in canon, but I'm gonna choose to believe that he would enjoy cooking for someone he loves.

Art hoe?: We know he appreciates good literature, so does that extend to other forms of creativity?

Hands: (I don't actually know how much of this is based in canon but whatever) He likes to work on his bike, he's meticulous with taking care of his guns & weapons, so it's safe to assume he likes working with his hands. So even if it's not something he loves to do as a "safe space" because of cherished memories with Alfred or anything, he might still enjoy it.

^^on that note, what do you think some of his 'safe spaces' are? Like I guess reading would be one, maybe working on his bike would be another? Idk, what does anyone else think. p.s. I'm using safe space to mean something that makes him feel happy and gives him a break from his demons yk

Also I did only make this as a defense for the "Jason Todd had a charcuterie board obsession phase" post sitting in my drafts because I BELIEVE he DID!!!!!!!!

Anyway please let me know your thoughts I'm frothing at the mouth for human interaction

[raplinenthusiasts]

🎤 they belong on stage

[sisterdivinium]

And so ends the mini drabble regatta!

My thanks to everyone who read, liked or even left a little comment in the tags for these short attempts at different WN pairings <3

I want to hope that these humble offerings might inspire others to give other ships a chance, too, or to try their hand at drabbles in general. If I didn't please you with my interpretation of a given relationship, I am sorry; perhaps someone else will give it a go or maybe I'll do another one of these parties in the future and do better -- maybe you'll even consider joining me then.

For now, this blog returns to its regular schedule of doctor superion drabbles posted on Friday, at least until the end of the year. For early 2024, I want to have the next oneshot ready for publishing and I'll be focused on that until it happens. In the meantime, I'll be loitering around Tumblr as usual and sometimes on Dreamwidth as well :)

[phagodyke]

.

[allisonreader]

I'm in a mood, so below are some more personal ramblings.

This hasn't come up recently, but I find that in this particular moment that I am thinking about it. And that is most people's perception of me, both in person and online. I find it so interesting that the general perception of me is this bright, bubbly personality that can lighten the mood with my smile. (Obviously this is extremely a generic description but it is apt. As I have been told it in some variation throughout my life.)

But quite literally since at least kindergarten, the two most common comments on my report cards throughout my school career were about how I was a delight to have in class and my smile always lit up the classroom with my particular knack for procrastination mentioned shortly after.

I've always been the one with a smile to the point where more than once in high school when I had a more neutral expression on my face, I had people ask me out of concern if something was wrong, when nothing was.

So anyways I do think that it's interesting that this perception of me even bleeds into how I come across online. That this "sunshine and rainbows" sort of positive personality shines through what I write and post, even though I feel like it doesn't always. But I've had more than one person make comments that say exactly that to some degree. Bright is often used.

And I guess why I'm thinking about this right now is because at the moment I certainly don't feel bright or bubbly. Right now I feel a touch lonely. Which aches across the chest.

A big problem I have though is that I like to bury and ignore that feeling sometimes. I will sometimes reach out to people, but will I admit to why I'm trying to contact anyone, no. Because why admit to loneliness or anything else? Not when you can bury them down deep. I'm not looking for any advice, because I know what the solution is. It's getting out there, reaching out to people whether I want to or not and going and doing something. (Here enters procrastination once again.)

Anyways I just needed to write that out currently. And now this can get lost in the void. Though I am up for a chat.

[nereidprinc3ss]

be my angel

in which BAU fem!reader was injured on the job, but is refusing painkillers at the hospital. spencer thinks he knows why.

fluff (+a little angst) warnings/tags: established relationship, hospital stuff, reader got beat up by an unsub, discussions of spencer's past addiction, mentions of period cramps, reader ends up being administered some sort of painkiller a/n: another draft i found in my literal hundreds of pages of abandoned wips and fixed up cause it's cute, I hope you like!!!

Spencer is tearing through the hospital. They all keep saying you’re going to be okay, but what does that even mean? Why is nobody telling him anything? He’s not even sure he heard what the orderly at the front desk said, but his feet are carrying him with a strident purpose through the winding white halls, so he has to assume he at least subconsciously knows where he’s going. 

Finally he spots Penelope, a beacon in her candy-colored clothing, speaking to a doctor in hushed tones. Penelope sees him approaching and turns away from the doctor, looking harried and exhausted. 

“Is she okay? What happened?” Spencer demands, before either of the others can say a word. 

“She’s okay,” the doctor assures. “She was beat up pretty bad—concussion, broken ribs, some bruising that looks worse than it is. There was a clean shot through her arm, but—” 

His blood runs cold. Nobody told him you were shot. Why had nobody told him you were shot? 

“I need to see her.” 

The doctor frowns, glancing between the two agents. 

“I’m sorry, are you her spouse?” 

“Yes. No, not yet, I just—I need to see her, please. Now.” 

“Sir, unless she—” 

“Just let him see her!” Penelope practically yells. “She wants him here, believe me.”  

The doctor clenches her jaw and scribbles something on her clipboard. 

“Okay. Maybe you can try to convince her to accept some painkillers.” 

Spencer’s frown deepens. 

“She’s refusing pain management?” 

“We gave her as much ibuprofen as we could, but she refused anything stronger than that. She has to be in a lot of pain right now, and there’s no background of addiction.” 

“I’ll talk to her,” Spencer says, already twisting the silver door handle. He has a sneaking suspicion as to why you denied pain treatment, and it makes him feel incredibly guilty. More than he already did, after this entire debacle. 

The sight of you, bloodied and bruised and obviously suffering has his heart splintering right down the middle. Whatever meager semblance of a smile he can scrounge up and offer is reflected back to him on you—which only makes him feel worse. As always, you’re putting on a brave face. 

“Hey,” Spencer says quietly as he closes the door behind him. 

“Hi,” you croak. “How do I look?” 

He approaches, sitting on the edge of the bed and pushing your hair away from your face. 

“How do you feel? The doctor told me you wouldn’t accept pain medication,” he murmurs. 

You sniff. 

“I feel okay. Did she tell you it’s not as bad as it looks?” 

But your voice is so small, so wavery and weak, that he knows you’re lying. 

“Sweetheart...” 

You’ve been holding it together since the unsub beat you nearly unconscious. You held it together as he ran away, even got a couple shots in before he turned around and returned fire. You held it together while you sat against the dirty truck, bleeding out, not sure if your team was coming, and you held it together in the ambulance, and for the past thirty minutes in this hospital bed. But all it takes is one gentle word from Spencer, with that concerned, solicitous look in his eye, and the floodgates are opening. Tears spring up in your eyes and begin silently falling down your dirtied cheeks. 

“It’s okay!” you attempt to reassure him, affecting cheeriness even through the tears. “It doesn’t hurt. I’m fine!” 

He says your name soft and low and he tries his best to keep his tone even though he is liable to burst into tears or start yelling at someone (not you) at any minute.  

“I know that’s not true. You have broken ribs and a gunshot wound. I know how badly it hurts to breathe and how it feels every time you move your arm. That is too much damage for over-the-counter anti-inflammatories. You need real analgesics.” 

“I don’t,” you whisper. Your teary eyes make his whole body ache. He squeezes your hand—the one that’s not connected to the wounded arm. 

“Because of me?” You stare at him blankly, as if you’re shocked he was able to put two and two together. “I promise you don’t need to worry about that.” 

You sniffle. 

“But what if—what if they give me the drugs and I get all weird and it’s, it’s like... triggering for you, or something?” 

“It’s been a really long time since I’ve worried about that. I’d rather see you a little tired and out of it than in extreme pain and trying to pretend you’re not. You getting the pain relief you need in a medical emergency is not going to make me relapse.” 

“But I really think I could go without,” you begin, voice already tightening around a cry. “I’ve—I’ve had period cramps that were worse than this.” 

Despite himself, he chuckles. Goes back to stroking your hair. 

The laughter fades quickly. All the pain you’re in is so evident in your eyes. The dissociative glassiness, the tension around them, the bloodshot quality—he's seen it many times before, and he hates it on you. 

“Will you please tell them you’re ready to take something? They won’t give you Dilaudid. It’s too strong. They’ll give you something that I’d have no interest in anyway.” 

“Not funny,” you whisper. 

He ignores this. 

“Will you let me call the doctor back in?” 

You take a deep, shuddering breath—or at least, you try to, before you’re loosing a sharp squeak that deteriorates into a little sob. The ribs. 

Spencer doesn’t bother asking again, just gets up and begins to walk away as efficiently as his legs will carry him. You need painkillers and he thinks it might be fastest to just fetch the doctor or a nurse from the hallway. 

“Wait,” you plead.  

He stops. Reminds himself that you need him right now—not his medical opinions. Spencer turns back around and approaches again, crouching by your bedside this time. 

“What, honey?” 

“I don’t...” 

You trail off, overcome by something like fear in the width and shine and nervous dart of your eyes. Spencer knows, everybody at the BAU knows, that showing fear to a serial killer will get you killed that much quicker. During your time alone with the unsub, which is a can of worms Spencer literally cannot psychologically open right now, you had to put on your bravest face. Even while you were being beaten within an inch of your life. Even when you thought you were going to die, alone, and that your team—that Spencer—wasn't coming back for you. Because that’s the kind of thing you have to do to cope when you’re at rock bottom. But you were terrified. Petrified. That doesn’t just go away—and Spencer knows it’ll be bumping against the surface until it finds a way out.  

He has to remember that just because you look unafraid and you act unafraid doesn’t mean you aren’t. 

“You were so brave,” he manages after he’s sure he can say it without incident, swiping moisture from your cheek. “You did everything exactly right.” 

“I know,” you whisper, chin trembling. Spencer knows you, and he knows this kind of trauma well enough to know that you’re thinking, I did everything exactly right, and it wasn’t enough. I did everything exactly right and this is what I have to show for it. 

“But nobody needs you to act like it wasn’t hard, okay? You don’t need to pretend like it doesn’t hurt. You were so, so brave, angel. You don’t have to be brave anymore.” 

Your eyes squeeze shut, sending a new wash of tears over your tacky cheeks. A few moments pass. You say nothing. He hopes you’re not going to hide away inside yourself like he did. 

“Will you please, please, let me get the doctor?” 

At least this time you don’t immediately say no. 

“Will you come right back?” 

“Of course.” 

Finally, you nod your hesitant assent, and Spencer presses a careful kiss to your forehead. 

A few minutes later, the doctor—who was shocked that Spencer was able to so quickly change your very made-up mind—is back, and so is Spencer. It only takes a moment for them to determine the best course of action for you and soon the fist around his heart is loosening its grip as he watches some of the agony melting from your eyes. 

“Better?” he murmurs as the nurse who’d administered the drugs leaves, fanning his thumb over the underside of your wrist. You nod, already appearing sleepy. 

“Can you lie down with me?” 

He smiles at the way your words slip against each other, simply relieved that you’re able to relax and no longer in extreme pain. 

“Hospital beds aren’t rated for two people.” 

“Spencer.” 

It’s enough for him to climb onto the bed—not that he was ever going to deny you what you wanted to begin with. The fit isn’t exactly perfect—he's a bit too long and combined the two of you are just slightly too wide—but with some finagling it’s comfortable enough. Spencer has slipped his arm underneath you and your head is on his shoulder and he’s so glad to have you in his arms and so grateful that you’re okay he does something almost like praying in his head as he kisses your hair. 

“Hey. Ask me about my bruises.” 

“Why? Do they still hurt?” 

“You should see the other guy.” 

It’s dumb and it doesn’t make sense because you didn’t bother waiting for him to actually set the joke up—but he smiles dryly nonetheless. 

“Can you please give me... I don’t know, 36 hours before you start making jokes about almost dying?” 

“Clock starts now.” 

“Thank you.” He feels your lips curve into a half-conscious smile against his neck. It’s a wonderful feeling. “How are your ribs? Breathing feels okay?” 

“Mhm. Love breathing.” 

“Mhm. And your arm?” 

“Like I got shot.” 

“Well, that’s pretty much unavoidable. But not as bad as before, right?” 

“Right. Spencer?” 

“What, my love?” 

A little pleased puff of air warms his shoulder. He carefully rubs your hip. 

“Will you tell me how brave I was again?” 

He takes a silent, very deep breath.  

“You were incredibly brave. And smart, too. I’m really proud of you for how you handled that situation. I’m so sorry you had to go through that, but I don’t think anyone could have handled it better. Especially when you chose to stay put by the truck, instead of chase him. I know that wasn’t what you wanted to do, but it was the right choice.” 

“I thought you guys maybe weren’t coming,” you murmur, no hint of sadness in your smushed, flat voice—like you’re barely awake. “I waited half an hour and I thought you weren’t gonna find me.” 

“Angel, I will always find you. We didn’t stop looking even once, as soon as we noticed you were gone. I’m just sorry I wasn’t with Emily and Rossi when they got to you.” 

“’Nelope told me... she told me you got really angry and scary.” 

He stares at the ceiling and considers this. 

“I could see... how what I was feeling would be interpreted that way. I was pretty angry. But not at Penelope or any of them. I was mostly just scared.” 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” you whisper. “And I’m sorry if I made you mad.” 

“You did not. I wasn’t mad at you. And it’s not your fault that I got scared. You were just trying to do your job. None of this is your fault.” 

“She also said that you said fuck like... three times.” 

“Mm... doesn’t sound like me,” he evades. You giggle, and the sound is more a relief than any drug he could take.

“No, seriously, I’m so mad I missed it. I love hearing you swear. Tell me what you said—and you have to cause I’m all messed up so I get whatever I want.” 

He sighs in mock annoyance. 

“Well, she’s wrong. I only said fuck once. I used fucking as an intensifier twice.” 

You hum. 

“Sexy.” 

“Alright,” Spencer laughs, flushing as he moves his hand to your shoulder. “Go to sleep before I tell them to up your dosage, weirdo.” 

[silkythewriter]

Vox and alastor with an undeserving to be in hell reader!

Warnings!:non!

Fandom!: Hazbin hotel!

Author note!;I THINK TUMBLER ACTUALLY HATES ME (ﾒ﹏ﾒ)(｡•́︿•̀｡)it keeps not letting me edit my drafts, it’s happened like 3 times already this week alone!,…BUT ANYWAY I LOVE THIS IDEA I REALLY HOPE YOY ENJOY!!!!♡´･ᴗ･`♡

Summary!: alastor and Vox x reader WHOs I. Hell for a minor sin/crime

❤️Written by silkythewriter do not steal or repost any other platform please! <3❤️

ఌ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ఌ

“Each time I find myself

Flat on my face

I pick myself up and get back in the race!”

ఌ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★��★★★ఌ

!📺✨Vox✨📺!

When you first admitted what you did that counted as a “sin” he was flabbergasted! He thought they must’ve made a mistake. All be it one that was in favor since he got to be damned with you. But still!

Out of every monster known to man kind one who’ve committed acts that are despicable. You, one who can barely hurt a damn fly get sent with them?

At first he thought you were genuinely just joking. And he actually laughed! Like audible chuckled before waiting for the actual reason, which never came, and he soon realized you were being serious!

He always questioned why you use to refuse to kill, or at least scare people into respect. But then you explained how you refused to be like the rest of the sinners.

He utterly dumb founded you made it this far without spilling a bit of blood, at least for survival!

He becomes more overprotective as if he wasn’t before, good luck with that!

Cause now he knows your rules, he knows you won’t budge. Nothing would get you to change your mind. So he made sure to keep eyes on you 24/7, you may be nice, but the other sinners in this damned place definitely aren’t. And he knows that from experience

Would neither confirm or deny he put a small tracker in an item you carry every where.

This man has enemy’s as you’ve seen, demons, overlords, rival company’s, it’s a headache an a half for him. Not that he hates protecting you and your values! No never!, but the nerve of the people who think they even have a chance to lay a hand on you.

Gives you the lastest phone from his series, and yes he will text you and blow up ur phone up if he can see you through cameras around the city.

Even if you put it on silent he wouldn’t put behind himself to over load it and just show up on your phone screen.

Sometimes he’s just so confused how you can be so nice, or at worst passive to those who are poking at you. He thinks your a saint, even if you aren’t, an maybe you have a short temper still the way you hold yourself form blowing up is astonishing!

Sometimes he jokes about how if you were to go to Charlie you would be redeemed in a day. And at night sometimes he thinks about it and it scares him to know there’s a possibility for you to go where he will probably never be able to follow you too

He loves you to the depths and the crooks of hell, and he’ll be damned again if he lets anyone hurt you. He sees you as a small soft light in the red cover world, and he will do anything before anyone can put out that light.

He makes sure to keep a good distance between you and Val, a BIG distance.

He’s always on the edge about people around you, how can’t he? He can’t trust all these “disgusting and repulsive” sinners in hell around you. The thought alone cringes him out and stresses him.

He knows to some degree he isn’t exactly better then them sin wise, but he makes sure to do his best for you while infornt of you, he cares about his image, and wouldn’t be afraid to scare someone into discipline. BUT he will tone it down, just for you ♥(⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)♥

He has you under wraps, from the public eye in this case. As much as he’s one to show off his earnings, he loves you a little to much and knows well people will use you as a advantage. He loves to show off but you something just for him behind close doors for now before he can work something out

NOW if the public were to already know, he show off by showing how untouchable you were, demons knew better to approach you seeing as how fast he is to get rid of those stupid enough to try something.

Overall he respects your morals of not wanting to stoop as low as other sinners. But it dose make him more protective of you, your like a rare gem. There’s only a handful of people like you, and even then the numbers decrees daily, so he dose his most to make sure you safe and happy <3

ఌ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ఌ

!🎙️✨Alastor✨🎙️!

Like Vix he humors it at first! Playing around with it before Laughing with his usual staticky voice as he stared at you with his unnerving smile. You guys quite literally stared at each other for a hot minute waiting for the other to say something.

It took you clearing your throat for him to realize you weren’t just trying to get a chuckle outta him.

And for the first time since you met him you caught a hint of confusion, making you explain that it was genuinely what you did.

He quite literally burst out laughing, you, someone who probably did something everyone did once is in this horrid place stuck with the horrid monsters ever! Just for that single act alone.

He will admit he found it a bit amusing how you refused to kill or lay a hand on anyone. Refusing to stoop to other people’s levels. Now that for him is pure gold of entreatment! He’s seen people like you, say the same exact thing then crumble when backed I to a Corner.

But for the first time, for all the decades he’s been damned here, he’s seen you stick to what you’ve stated. You were very much quite a spectacle!

Now finding new amusement, he decided to protect you, cause someone like you were sure to be a one time experience. Aside from loving you of course

Now with your name being accosted with him alone is a shield in if its self. Barely any one approached you, aside from those playing with their afterlives of course.

If you ever feel a looming shadow or presence it’s most likely one of his shadows. Like Vox he is gonna have his eyes on you almost always

Although he loves you he will play around to get a reaction out of you. All for the fun of it!, he knows you cringe when he talks about his cannibalism tendencies he just loves seeing your cute little face scrunch up!

Even though with all of that he is a gentleman and will make sure no one is to bother you.

He’s quite impressed you made it this far without getting killed, I mean of course you have him but if you arrived to hell and didn’t met him immediately he’d be quite impressed and surprised one you both do meet

He indulges himself in the horrible aspects of hell, with no remorse or shame what so ever either. So although he dose respect your wishes he won’t stop or calm down his tendencies.. （；へ：）but on the bright side he’ll make sure your far away or he goes off to other part of the city and do whatever he wishes. But your likely to see on the news either way… (￣▽￣💧

He dose enjoy the more civil and nice talks he has with you though! He finds it nice to take a break from all the crude talk on the street from other sinners and have a nice conversation!

Great listener let me tell you, he’ll happily sit there as you explain your day away! He honestly enjoys hearing you genuinely happy!, although his a chatter box himself but he enjoys listening to you more then anyone or anything else!

Watches you be nice to the most repulsive, and rude demon like it’s nothing. Even when disrespected you find a way to calm down the situation and nicely at that. Of course the demon doesn’t live long once their out of your sight, but still! He’s pleasantly surprised.

He finds it rather weird that your nice just for the sake of being nice but still it’s definitely a nice refresher from all the horrible people down in hell!

You catch his eye rather quickly with how you stick out from others (in a good way! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ) and his eyes end up on you, you mainly have all his attention almost always if he isn’t off doing something!, your his light just live Vox he’ll make sure you’ll shine bright as ever and won’t go out.

Not everyone can catch it but in some rare moments he’ll be seen just staring at you as you happily talk away to Charlie. And for the smallest second you can see his unnerving smile turn into a soft smirk, eyes only on you and his mind filled with only you. This happens on the regular, it’s just he’s quick to cover up so no one sees!

Overall he loves you, even with some differences between your views he’ll still do his best to make you comfortable. Aside from teasing you here and there! But other then that he’ll protect you, your one of kind. And he loves having things no one else can.

ఌ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ఌ

AHHHH HELLOOOOO OH GORSH I MADE IT JUST IN TIME THIS TOOK SO LOBG TO DO CAUSE I KEPT HAVING TO DELETE AND REWRITE ON A NEW DRAFT AUGHHH I HOPE TUMBLR FIXES THIS BUG, BUT ANYWAY TYSM FOR REQUESTING PLEASE COME AGAIN!!!\(^ヮ^)/’

[ceilidho]

Buttermilk

It doesn't take long to settle into the rhythm of your new summer job. Or: the babysitter x single dad au

Part 1 | masterlist

-

“I’m not looking for a babysitter that can only come by every now and then,” he says sternly and pauses for emphasis, brows furrowing to convey the seriousness of the situation. “I’ve got a busy schedule and his mom isn’t in the picture. I need a real commitment.”

You sit across from him wringing your hands under the kitchen table, wondering again what it is you’re doing here. Babysitting has never been your schtick; you’re somewhere in between too old to do it as a casual gig for extra cash and too young and inexperienced to be considered for a full-time position. 

Yet, it seems like that’s what he’s looking for, based on the information he’s told you and your general impression from having been in his house for less than twenty minutes. The house is a mess—toys strewn across the baby’s bedroom and the living room, dishes crusted with day old food sitting in the sink, the bookshelf in his study covered in a fine layer of dust that tells you that this man spends so little time in his own house that it’s become something of a requiem to single fatherhood. 

“So, a nanny?” you ask.

He hems and haws over that for a bit. “Bit too fancy for my tastes, but that’s more like it. It won’t just be watching the baby—I need someone who can help out around the house as well. ‘Used to run a tight ship before him, but cleaning’s not been my highest priority these days. Sure you’ve picked up on that.” He says the last part wryly, lips curling up into a crooked grin under his mustache. 

“Well…” You trail off while glancing at the mess in the living room out of the corner of your eye, toys and blocks scattered over the playmat. Your own smile is sheepish. 

“I work odd hours, so I’ll be gone a lot; you’ll probably have a few late nights here, but I pay well. Think that’s something you can handle?”

A polite refusal sits on the tip of your tongue until you swallow it back, suddenly conscious again of the dwindling funds in your bank account. It’s not that you don’t think you could handle the job. You’ve babysat before (only preteens, you correct yourself internally, but surely there are some transferable skills there). And, eclipsing all of your arguments in favour of walking out the door right now, is the very salient and pressing need for an actual income. 

“You’re military, you said?” you croak out instead.

He nods, hums. “Bit of a glorified desk job these days. They don’t put the old timers out in the field. Still, keeps me busy.”

You frown at that. “You’re not that old.”

That gets him to cock an eyebrow. “Love, I’m over twice your age, easy. I’m plenty old for a first time father on top of that; should’ve already been an old hand at this, but I’ve been married to the job for too long.”

You don’t ask if the baby was an accident or how it came to be that he chose to raise the baby on his own rather than try to work something out with the mother or give him up altogether. It seems uncouth. Rude. It’s none of your business and, more to the point, hardly relevant to the job. It’s just your own insatiable need to pry and know every little detail raising its head to sniff the air. 

“Well, I think—” You chew on your words and then backtrack. “—I can handle the job. I live nearby, so I can be here whenever you need me. If you need references, I can—”

“No need,” he cuts you off, waving a hand in front of him. “I’m a good judge of character. If you wanna help put the baby to bed, we can talk salary and I’ll go over my schedule this week with you.”

The chair scrapes against the tile floor when he stands up, pushing it out from under him. Standing, he towers over you, a big, fit man despite his protests to the contrary. Hardly out of his prime. You’d put him at forty-five at the latest, and still a work horse of a man at that; broad like a draft horse, like he flips tires and runs marathons for fun. When you push out your chair and stand as well, you’re still forced to look up at him. 

“Sure can, Mister…—?” You realize with a slight start that you only remember his first name, though it hardly feels appropriate to call him by that given the fact that he’s about to become your boss. Already is your boss. 

“Price. But John works just fine,” he corrects, his smile warm, almost paternalistic. 

You ignore the flash of heat up your spine and the way your belly constricts when he reaches across the table to shake your hand. His big, calloused palm dwarfs yours, fingers easily overlapping. You might as well be shaking a mitt. 

“Well, thanks for the job, John,” you say with a smile of your own, ignoring the way yours strains at the end, anxiety already gnawing a hole through the lining of your stomach that your stomach acid will now most certainly leak through. “I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t, sweetheart.”

His words seem like a bellwether for something that you can’t yet articulate or even anticipate. Regardless, they make you swallow reflexively when you start salivating out of nowhere. You should probably quit on the spot actually, just out of principle alone, but again you remember the gut-churning sensation of checking your bank balance in the middle of the grocery store the other day before putting half of the contents of your cart back onto the shelf beside you. 

You follow him into the playroom instead, where a fuzzy headed infant gasps up at his daddy, blinking big lovestruck eyes up at him. Your own heart feels like a melted caramel in your chest when John picks his son up, eyes crinkling with affection. The baby is so tiny in his arms.

Any thought of being a good person evaporates from your mind. As if you ever had a chance. 

You don’t know how he found you. Through a friend of a friend of a friend’s dad’s coworker, maybe. Word of mouth. Watercooler conversation and a heaping cup of gossip.

“Did you hear the Captain’s looking for a babysitter?”

“For what? To bang?”

“No, dipshit. He knocked some broad up and she left him with the baby.”

“No kidding. The Captain?”

“Didn’t I just fuckin’ say that?”

“Price, you mean? Captain Price?”

“Are you fuckin’ deaf? Yeah—Price.”

“Christ. Godspeed to him. A baby. Goddamn.”

“Give it a rest, it happens all the time. That’s why you always wrap it up. Anyway, you know of anyone that’d be up for it?”

And then somehow, your name gets mentioned. Much to your relief. Job opportunities don’t knock on your door all that often, and when John finally gets around to telling you your hourly rate, you almost burst into hysterical giggles in front of him. It’s more than you expected. More than you deserve, if you’re being honest. You’re retroactively grateful that he didn’t ask you to name your rate because you wouldn’t have dared propose something anywhere close to what he offers.

It’s a straightforward gig. John doesn’t work the typical nine-to-five, so you show up at the times he made you write down on that first day in his living room after your interview and you leave whenever he comes home. The first week is fairly true to the schedule he laid out for you. He’s only late by around half an hour one evening, but that was another condition that he made you well aware of prior to giving you the job. 

You know better than to put up a fuss. You’re already learning on the job as it is; with your anxiety at a ten at all times, you appreciate the extra half hour to keep googling baby-specific information. What to do during tummy time. The benefits of baby massage. How to change a diaper. You’re learning all sorts of things these days.

To your credit, he could’ve done worse. The day after John hires you, you sign up for an intensive babysitting course over the weekend and read the online manual front to back. Your CPR certificate is still valid, but you book a refresher course as well just to be on the safe side. It’s a bit unbearable to watch the funds drain out of your account before you’ve even had a chance to earn your first paycheck, but it’s worth it for the burgeoning confidence that you bring on your first day.

Babies are fun to be around, you realize, much to your own delight. Babysitting—or rather, nannying, but John still introduces you to the neighbours as his babysitter, plus nannying requires a host of additional accreditations that you simply just do not have—might not have been a job that you ever expected yourself to like, but you find yourself kind of morose at the end of each day when you have to say goodbye to baby, and even going so far as to turn in early when you get home so you’ll be ready bright and early the next morning.

Babies also smell better than anything you’ve ever smelt in your life. You could huff the top of this little guy’s head morning, noon, and night. Milky and clean; it barely takes a few days to become addicted to the smell of his little head. When he’s cradled in your arms, you can’t help but press your nose to the top of his head and take a deep inhale, eyes fluttering shut. It’s some good shit. 

You keep a journal filled with notes to relay to John when he comes home at the end of the night and keep your phone close to you during babytime to film any important moments that John might’ve otherwise missed. 

“He started babbling today,” you tell John the second he walks through the door, the video already pulled up on your phone. You haven’t felt this excited in ages. “Look.” 

He’s still in his fatigues and everything, but he humours you and takes the baby when you pass him over, cooing and tickling his belly until the baby squeals and babbles again for him. 

“See?” you gush, mooning over him. You don’t have the presence of mind to be self-conscious in the moment. 

“Yeah,” John remarks, lifting his son up to blow a raspberry into his belly and grinning at his ensuing peals of laughter. “Ain’t that something.”

If the smile in his voice has anything to do with you, you don’t pick up on it.

On top of everything, John turns out to be a really good boss. Despite his gruff, intimidating exterior, he’s remarkably kind and patient with you. He doesn’t nag you for missing a spot when cleaning the bathroom. He doesn’t scold you the day your car breaks down and you’re forced to take the nearest bus to his place, tacking on an extra twenty minutes to your commute, even though that means that he’s invariably late for work. When you accidentally use scouring powder on the inside of his Le Creuset Dutch oven and scratch off the enamel, he gently talks you out of a sobbing fit, seemingly unbothered by the state of his scratched up crockery.

He shrugs when you bring it up. “It’s got a lifetime warranty anyway. I’ll bring it into the shop over the weekend. No use getting upset about it.”

Unflappable. That’s the word for it. It’s like as long as he’s able to come home to the baby and you in one piece, nothing else matters, and that sense of calm permeates the whole house; for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel like you have to walk on eggshells around someone. 

Your only qualm—and it’s hardly even a qualm, to be honest, more of just an observation—is that John is more of a physical person than you are. 

When he wants to move you, he does—two big hands clamped around your waist and only a fraction of his strength to move you away from the stove so he can take over cooking while you check on the baby, your mouth hanging open, aghast. Fuming at his nerve. The gall of him to manhandle you. 

You don’t hold it against him though. You haven’t spent much time around groups of men, but you’ve seen military movies before and it seems like the status quo for men to grab and push each other around. If anything, he’s gentle with you. 

It’s just that—and again, John’s the first adult man you’ve spent any one-on-one time with, what with it just being the two of you and the baby in his house, so your frame of reference is microscopic—you’re not completely sure whether it’s appropriate for your boss to be so touchy. 

You don’t mean to insinuate that he’s being inappropriate. It’s just that—and again you have to catch yourself before you go making assertions about people because John is honestly such a nice man and he’s done nothing but treat you fairly and made you feel safe and welcome, but…—sometimes he insists on you staying over for dinner after he comes home from work and doesn’t take no for an answer.

You’re never in any rush to leave. There’s not exactly anything waiting for you in your dingy little apartment. So when he asks you to stay, you have no good reason to refuse. It’s nice to get a free meal as well. With the way John gives you unfettered access to the fridge and pantry, you hardly need to buy groceries at all these days. You feel a little guilty about that, but you know what it’s like to go hungry.

Maybe that’s why you stay for supper the first time he asks a couple weeks into you working for him. You’re subconsciously mortified that you’ll eat his food when he’s not gone but not when he offers it to you.

At least dinner feels like something you’ve been given rather than just taking, taking, taking. 

Not to mention you’ve developed something of a rapport. There’s always something to talk about with John: the baby, his work, a show you watched on TV after putting the baby down for a nap, the new big Tesco four blocks from your place, his late teens before joining the military (“back when you weren’t even a thought in your mum’s head,” he jokes, cutting into his steak and something in your brain pops and fritzes out like the static between radio stations). 

The first few suppers are sporadic and never long enough to make you feel like you’ve overstayed your welcome. In all honesty, they’re the few bright spots in an otherwise dull life. Outside of your job and the infrequent dinners, you’re estranged from your family and you’ve only got a few close friends in town that you see maybe once or twice a month. Nothing to write home about. Some Friday nights, the yoga studio near your flat has a five pound community class that you pop in for, but those are infrequent too. 

Then there’s the odd night where he shoos you into the living room to put on a movie while he cleans up after dinner. You stare absentmindedly at his forearms when he rolls up his sleeves and then jump when you find him staring at you expectantly over his shoulder.

“Go put something on,” John tells you, a warning look in his eye. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Sorry,” you whisper before slipping off into the living room.

You can’t relax on the couch while you wait. You flinch when he finally joins you, sitting down on the other side of the couch suddenly. You hadn’t even heard him coming; he’s light on his feet for such a big man. 

The buddy cop comedy you picked barely distracts you from the fact that your boss is sitting on the other side of the couch. You spend the whole two hour run time so nervous that you’re afraid you’ll buzz right out of your skin. 

For absolutely no reason, of course, because all John does is make light conversation with you throughout the movie. Conversation that you respond to in curt, choked whispers. When he walks you to the door after the movie, all you can focus on is how utterly embarrassed you are for being so weird.

Your dreams that night come frantic and heady. Humid under the blanket. The phantom feeling of a body heavier than yours weighing down one side of the couch and you sliding towards it gradually, unable to even cling onto the arm of the couch to keep from falling into his lap. 

Then hands on your belly, cupping and holding. Thick fingers with hairy knuckles. A warm, tobacco smell wafting under your nose, sweet like tonka bean and smoke. Nothing you can do to keep them from travelling down your stomach and thighs and spreading your legs wide, big hands curving around your inner thighs until—

You wake up panting, fingers pressed against your clit in your sleep. It takes nothing to bring yourself over the edge, dark blue eyes swimming on the precipice of your conscious mind. 

“Sleep well?” John asks you the next morning when you show up on his doorstep, handing you the baby before you’ve even said so much as a word. You hold the baby to your chest like a makeshift shield. Anything to put some distance between you and the man who has now taken to starring in your dreams. 

“Not bad,” you squeak. 

You flinch when he guides you in with a hand on your back and shuts the door behind you. Your cunt pulses when his fingers press firm against the small of your back, hand bigger than you remembered from your dream.

As if you were ever going to end up anywhere but here.

[florencemtrash]

Bedsides and Breakfasts

Summary: After Azriel comes home battered and bruised, he refuses to eat the meal you've made him... Why?

Warnings: Angst, character injury, fluff

Author's note: For context, Y/n is Helion's bastard daughter. In an earlier draft of my other (very long) fic, The Shadowsinger and The Inkbird, this was going to be a scene that takes place after Azriel gets hurt during the Battle on the Lake where Y/n figures out Azriel is her mate. I wanted to finish it up and get it out there because I don't want to say goodbye to that story just yet and I wanted to get back into writing so.... here ya go!

The Townhouse sang quietly as it worked. Its melodies lay in the shifting curtains that shook off dust into the wind. Its lyrics in the whistling teakettle. You liked these sounds as you moved about the kitchen, preparing your tea and a crust of bread slathered with butter and jam. 

When the Townhouse was empty, you didn’t need to fear your power — there was no one around for you to touch and steal memories from. Mor had tried to drag you out to Rita’s that evening — “Rhys says you’ve learned to keep your Clairvoyance at bay! Come dancing with us!” — but you couldn’t muster the courage or the energy.

Besides, you were awaiting a certain Shadowsinger’s arrival. 

“Won’t you come back and make me your home? You who’ve stolen my heart as simple as a whisper, calm as a storm,” You hummed to yourself. You swore the Townhouse sighed in contentment. “Do you like my silly little songs then?” You mused. 

The lights shone a little brighter, crackling the air with a flicker of energy. 

You were singing about Azriel — of course you were — and blushing all the while. He’d been the first to truly speak to you — the first to notice you — and the embrace you’d shared in Rhysand’s office had left you breathless for days. You could still feel the ghost of his breath against your neck as you’d buried your face in the hollow of his throat. The cracked leather beneath your fingers and the short hairs at the base of his skull you’d caressed as lovingly as any flower. It was the first time you’d ever been touched like that. Like you were something worth holding onto. 

When he was gone, the Townhouse felt too empty. You felt too empty. Even now, the edges of your patience frayed like a worn shirt without him. 

You spent the evening’s hours combing through every book you’d managed to lug over from the Library. It was quick, but taxing work as every touch against the weathered binding allowed you to absorb its knowledge without you ever having to lay an eye on the page. 

When the candle flickered dangerously close to your books and the dull throbbing behind your eyes had gone on for too long, you blew out the light and could do no more than curl up on the sofa before falling fast asleep. 

The whispers of shadows woke you. You couldn’t understand the words hidden within their overlapping voices, but their panic and relief were heavy in the air. You could almost taste their meaning on your tongue.

“Y/n,” Azriel moaned. He leaned heavily against the open door, forcing it open against the drag of the carpet. His sword clattered to the ground before his knees. “Y/n,” he called out again, more urgently this time. He prayed to the gods you were home. He’d flown through the night, tattered wings struggling to keep him aloft, to make sure he’d see you again… just in case.

Blood and iron burned your nose and your sleep-swollen eyelids split open. “Az—” Your knee slammed against the coffee table in your struggle to escape the blankets. “AZ!” 

Azriel was always greedy for the sight of you, and that familiar tug in his chest tightened as you rounded the corner and sprinted towards him. You tripped where the hardwood ended and the carpet began, throwing his arm around your shoulder. 

He smiled softly at you. Three months ago, you’d been too afraid to touch anyone. Now here you were half-supporting his weight as he staggered to his feet. He stole a few precious seconds to lean his head into the crook of your neck and breathe in your scent. For a moment, he believed it would be enough to heal him.

“How bad is it?” 

“Three arrows in the right wing, two in the left. Fae bane.” 

“Anywhere else?” You both stumbled down the hallway back from where you’d come. 

“I may have been stabbed a few times.” He offered the piece of information casually, like he was complaining about the price of eggs.

“What’s a few?” Your eyes were wide as the moon. Searching, searching, searching for wounds.

“Ten?” 

Your growl tore through the quiet of the night. 

Your hands were slippery with blood, and Azriel almost slid out of your fingertips as you deposited him against the table. You flung your arms out over the hardwood tabletop sending bottles of ink, pens, and sheafs of papers clattering to the floor before rolling Azriel onto the top and forcing him to lay down.

Under the chandelier, Azriel looked ghastly. The warmth was drained from his skin and the hollows of his eyes and the fullness of his lips were tinged purple from cold. His eyes drifted apart from one another.

“I need you to stay awake.” 

“I will.” His words were slippery as soap on porcelain, syllables sliding into one another as he promised you he would be alright and that he had suffered worse before.  

“Stay awake!” You commanded him and his eyes sharpened ever so slightly on your figure as you tore through the cabinets in the corner. 

Where is it? Where is it? Glass bottles clinked and tottered on rounded bottoms. There! 

You snatched one of the pale green bottles lining the back wall and bit off the cork top with a grimace, spitting it out onto the floor. You could taste the medicine inside coat your teeth with an acrid film. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” You slapped Azriel’s cheeks to keep him awake. “Drink this.” 

Azriel’s lips parted immediately and he accepted every bitter drop you forced down his throat. It wasn’t a cure, but it would help stabilize him long enough for help to arrive. In the time it took for you to call out to Rhys and light the candle that would wake Madja and call her to the Townhouse, Azriel’s cheeks had flushed with some more color. 

The sight did little to ease your worries as you worked on unbuckling the straps of his armor. Piece by piece they fell away with a wet thud on the ground. 

He grabbed your wrist before you could run in search of something to cut off the clothes clinging to him like a second skin. Elain had left gardening shears on the back porch. Perhaps the kitchen had scissors?

“Stay.” He begged. “Please stay.”

“Rhys and Madja will be here soon. I just need to get something to help you.” 

“Then stay.” His grip turned desperate, short nails digging into your forearm. “Stay and help me. Don’t leave me.” 

Azriel might have smiled if he wasn’t in so much pain. His hand slid up the curve of your arm to hold your neck, thumb tracing the line of your jaw. 

“I wanted to see you just in case.” His chest rattled with the effort, “Gods, I missed you.” 

He’d been gone weeks on the Continent, scrounging after every whisper of Koschei’s name as far as the eastern mountains. He’d scavenged and raged. Killed and tortured. And he’d missed you all the while. It was what had possessed him to fly all the way to Velaris, when he would have been better off breaking into the Day Court and throwing himself at the mercy of Helion — your father. 

You felt the tears prick at your eyes, angry and hot. “If you say another fucking word like you’re about to die, I will kill you myself.” You were not prone to violence, and Azriel felt some pride that he could elicit such an emotion from you. 

Luckily for you both, Azriel didn’t get a chance to say anything else, and you didn’t get a chance to murder him before Rhysand, Feyre, Cassian, and Madja were bursting through the front door and following the blood-red trail to the dining room. 

Azriel squeezed your hand once more. “Stay with me.”

“Where else would I go, Az?” You whispered, pressing a quick kiss to the palm of his hand before the others crowded close. 

You stayed at the head of the table, one hand always holding onto Azriel’s. He swallowed his pain, the faintest groans slipping from his lips as arrows were pulled out inch by bloody inch. It was no easy thing to endure, not even for Azriel. Wicked barbs lined the arrow shaft and caught onto the delicate membrane of his wings no matter how Madja twisted, pushed, and pulled. 

One particularly harsh wrench had Azriel crying out, his nails digging into your arm and drawing blood. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, feeling your skin break beneath his nails. His skin was tinged green now. A sickly sheen covered his face and fell over his eyes. 

“It’s ok. It’s ok. Just look at me.” You grasped the sides of his face. “Look at me.” 

Once again, Azriel was ready to listen to your commands. His eyes never left yours, not once, until the last of the faebane-tipped arrows dropped onto the table with a menacing ring of metal on wood.

Feyre closed his wounds as best she could, but the flesh inside would take longer to heal. For now all they could do was carefully wipe the blood from his body and carry him up to his bedroom. 

You lingered by Azriel’s side long after he fell asleep, fingers twitching with nerves as you counted every slow and steady breath of his. 

“Y/n.” Feyre gently touched your arm. “He’ll be alright.”

You nodded, still watching Azriel sleep. Then, to your mortification, you burst into tears. Your clothes were drying stiff with sweat and blood — none of it yours — and the red handprints Azriel had left along your arms were turning to copper rust. 

She shushed you, softly tugging at your arms. 

“He-He asked me to stay,” you said between gulps of air. 

“He’d want you to be clean and well-rested, Y/n. Don’t let him wake up feeling guilty.” 

If it weren’t for Feyre, you would have remained glued to the floor of Azriel’s room until you became one of the faces trapped in the wooden floors. You let her lead you across the hall to your own room where she filled the tub with warm water and soap. 

“Shit,” you mumbled. Your fingers shook so much you couldn’t undo the buttons of your dress. Shadows, loose and long as stalks of grass, wound around your back, plucking the buttons undone without a word. 

“He’ll be alright.” Feyre repeated this phrase many times as you scrubbed off the night’s events and turned the water copper brown. The magic of the Townhouse whisked away the grime almost as quickly as it appeared until you sat in a sudsy bath, milky and clean.

“What happened to him, Fey?”

“From what Rhys and I can tell, Koschei had over a dozen archers lying in wait for when he returned to Prythian. We’ve already warned Helion.” 

You nodded. Your head felt heavy on your neck, like a doll with a snapped neck. 

“He nearly died.” Once the words were out in the open, fragile and pure, you broke down again, knees drawn up to your chest in the tub. 

“But he didn’t.” Feyre smoothed back your dripping hair. “It will take more than arrows and faebane for Death to steal him from us, Y/n.” 

Gods you hoped that was true, or else your heart might give out every time Azriel walked out the door. 

You returned to his side the moment you were clothed, hair still dripping onto his gray bed sheets as you leaned forward from your chair and held his hand. He slept on his stomach, wings flared out and peppered with white gauze like a patchwork quilt. Beneath the drape of his blankets you knew more gauze covered his chest and stomach, dotted with blood like blooming roses. 

You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but you awoke to a deep ache in your back and a faint choir of voices in the air. 

Shadows. 

They kissed your cheeks, cool and soft, urging your eyelids open. Azriel was already awake and sitting up in bed with a grimace. One hand clutched his side and a leg hung over the edge of the bed, like he intended to stand. When he saw you, his hazel eyes widened. First in alarm. Then in guilt. 

“Az?” Your voice felt crusted with smoke and sleep and you did what you could to straighten the crook in your neck and your spine from the odd position you’d fallen asleep in. ““You’re not supposed to be sitting up.” Your bones cracked obnoxiously as you moved for the first time in hours, and the guilt in his gaze deepened. 

You pressed lightly against his chest, feeling the gauze scratch your skin, but he did not budge. 

“Az, you need to lay down. What were you even doing up?” 

Azriel’s eyes flickered off to the side. “I was… I was trying to move you to the bed.” 

You swallowed your yawn and blinked in disbelief. “Azriel, you’ve just been shot and stabbed. You need to lay back down.” 

He grabbed your wrists, tugging you forward until you almost collapsed against his chest. “There’s space on the bed. I want you to be comfortable.” 

“The chair is fine, and you are hurt. Now, please—” He did not move. No matter how you reasoned with him. No matter how you tried to shove him back beneath the covers.

“I will lay back down under one condition.” 

You frowned. He was much more stubborn when he was injured. “What condition?” 

“Sleep on the bed. There’s plenty of room.” 

“Az—” 

“Please.” His hands slipped into yours, fingers pressing against the pulse of your wrists. “Y/n, I will be comforted with you beside me.” He held up his finger before you could sleep. “And not in that gods-awful chair. You’ll wake up crooked.”

“I’m not a stalk in a storm,” you grumbled, because it only seemed appropriate that you should fight him on this. Otherwise, you’d have to admit that the thought of melting into his bed set off fireworks in your stomach, exciting and terrifying at the same time. You’d also have to admit the scent of mountain air embedded in every inch of his room brought you comfort. You could lay your head on his pillows and sleep for an eternity. 

I shouldn’t be here. But you let him tug you closer to him. You slid your legs over his waist, calves catching on the waistband of his pants and dragging in a way that had your heart leaping into your stomach until you were safely on the other side of him. 

Azriel’s bed was massive — over 12 feet across to better accommodate the span of his wings. You moved as far away from him as you could without eliciting offense and stared at the window. 

Your muscles clenched as he shifted closer to you, wings rustling against the silk sheets and whispering as he got comfortable. Every time he so much as shifted, your back prickled, as though you had eyes there that shifted to soak up every inch of him. 

He’s hurt and I’m taking up space and—

He reached out his arm and his fingertips brushed against the curve of your back. You stiffened like you’d been struck by lightning. If Azriel were awake, he would have apologized and wrenched back his hand as if burned. But he was fast asleep and the touch was a natural movement he made in his dreams where he was imagining that you were closer to him. So close that he could breathe down your neck and feel you melt beneath his touch. 

You didn’t sleep, as much as the lull of his breathing threatened to sink you into sweet and comforting dreams. The sky was but a lighter shade of black when you were slipping out of bed with barely a whisper. Miraculously, Azriel did not awaken, and his shadows ghosted over the floors drowsily.

You were no stranger to dawn as you padded down to the kitchens. You hummed to yourself, cracking eggs over a well-greased skillet with onions, tomatoes, and peppers tossed in. They bobbed up and down in a sea of yellow like ducks on water. Potatoes browned to your right, their skins crackling and spitting grease as bacon popped and sizzled beside them. 

You ate as you went, plating the final meal for Azriel, who—if you knew anything about him—would be waking shortly after the first rays of sunlight split his shadows in two. 

You slipped back into his room as quietly as you’d left, and then nearly leapt out of your skin to find a dark mass of shadow covering the bed. 

“You’re awake,” you said blankly. 

Azriel propped himself up onto his elbows, back rippling as he forced his stiff and swollen wounds to stretch until he could sit up in bed. 

“Where did you go?” There was but a faint slur to his words. “You weren’t here when I woke up.” 

“I was making breakfast.” You dragged over the ottoman from the foot of his bed as a makeshift table. “Did you brush your teeth already?” Not that it mattered. A sour mouth wouldn’t keep him from a meal if he was hungry. 

The flash of fear in his eyes was so subtle, so brief, that you missed it. 

“I’m not hungry.” 

“Well that doesn’t really matter. Madja said you should eat first thing. Oh!” You plucked a purple glass bottle from his bedside table. “And she said to drink this with a meal.” You pushed it into his hands, reluctant as they were to take the stoppered bottle from you. 

“I can’t imagine eating right now.” He said, shaking his head. His cheeks puffed out and he swallowed hard. “The smell… it’s… I can’t stomach it.” 

You frowned at that. He liked your cooking. It was only due to circumstance that you hadn’t been able to cook for him in months. 

“Can you please try?” you begged. “Just a bite.”

His skin turned pallid and the dark marks beneath his eyes stood out. He picked up a fork with a trembling hand, stuck it into a potato, then dropped it as if it burned. Suddenly, he regretted asking you to stay the night. Guilt ate away at his stomach, twisting it like spaghetti on a fork. 

You sighed in dejection. “I’ll bring it back downstairs.” You said. You began collecting the silverware from where you’d left them by his side. 

“I’m sorry.” He murmured, catching your wrist in his hand. 

You smiled softly. “Try and get some rest.” 

“Will you be back?” His words caught you by the door. 

“You won’t even realize I was gone.” 

He doubted that very much. Still, he settled back in bed, rolling onto his stomach to keep its rumbling at bay. He was quite hungry. 

You closed the door behind you, carrying the untouched plate of eggs and potatoes. Cassian stopped his whistling as he made his way down the hall, a teasing smile playing at his lips until he caught sight of your dejected expression. 

“What’s got our resident Librarian frowning? Did someone misplace a book in the House?” 

You didn’t rise to Cassian’s jests. You cast a sullen glance back at Azriel’s door like it was personally responsible for everything, and shrugged. “He hasn’t eaten since he’s been back and I’m starting to get worried. I read up on Illyrian anatomy weeks ago and he should be fine enough to eat by now.” 

Cassian leaned down, taking a careful sniff of the plate before grabbing hold of a butter and rosemary roasted potato and plucking it in his mouth. It was cold and the butter had hardened into a greasy slick, but it was still good. He told you as much as he walked with you back to the kitchens, stealing slivers of potato as he went.

“It’s nice to know my cooking’s not at fault.” 

Cassian jerked back in surprise and sudden understanding. “You made him that?”

“Yes. I know the House has its own will, but I like to cook. And it still feels strange having food just appear out of nowhere.”  

Cassian fought with all his might to keep the cheeky grin from his face. 

Poor Azriel, forced to go hungry because he was still too much of a sheepish fool to tell you about the mating bond let alone accept it. 

He clicked his tongue. He loved his brother to the grave and back, but Azriel had a horrible habit of getting trapped in his own mind. Cassian had hoped you would help with that, given you suffered similarly. 

“I wouldn’t take it too personally. Azriel’s a picky eater. Always has been.”

That was a complete and utter lie. Growing up in the Illyrian war camps meant you either starved or ate whatever gray-brown mush you could get your hands on. Rhysand and Azriel had been quicker to move on from the rugged Illyrian lifestyle, and Rhysand especially had used his High Lord privileges to cultivate a refined and expensive taste, but if they were hungry and limited they didn’t give two shits what went in their mouths. 

“I didn’t realize you could afford to be picky in a war camp,” You grumbled. You dropped the plate’s contents onto a skillet, patiently waiting for the House to light a toasty fire. There was no need to let good food go to waste.   

You thought over it, some minor irritation settling in that the Shadowinger had rejected the food you’d worked to make. It really didn’t make sense that Azriel would be so particular about food. Or anything for that matter. He’d always struck you as the practical, bare-bones sort, and you knew him well enough now to know that was true. His very job required it of him. But then again you couldn’t remember the last time he’d accepted any food that you’d offer-

You froze. Oh. Oh.

The first night he’d visited your apartment in the Day Court, he’d refused your tea and cakes before leaving abruptly. You’d agonized over that night for months, trying to figure out what you might have done to scare him off. But he’d been so kind and shy afterwards and then the whole matter of Koschei had arose and you’d never given it much thought because he just seemed so familiar and... Oh. OH-

“BASTARD!” You spat out in shock. The skillet dropped to the stove with a sharp cry that had Cassian blinking. He’d never seen you like this. So…agitated.

Had you always been this dull? A year ago you might have been able to blame it on your naïveté, but you weren’t so socially misinformed now and yet this was a bit much. And… oh you couldn’t wrap your head around your own stupidity to even begin to think about a mating bond with…

A mating bond with Azriel. You… you were his mate. He was yours. And you were his. And suddenly the pieces of it were falling into place so quickly you thought you might be crushed beneath the weight. 

Mate.

Even the thought of the word crashed around your mind incessantly, like an anxious dog trying to settle down to sleep. Yet it all made such perfect sense. The way Azriel always found you when you were in danger or grieving. The awful days when Azriel had been away and you’d felt like a piece of your body had been severed. The way that the world felt right when he was beside you. Maybe it was the bond, maybe it was just something born out of love, or maybe they were one and the same. It was impossible to tell but it didn’t change anything.

Mate.

Cassian glanced sideways at you and said cautiously, “We’re both bastards, Y/n. I don’t think that’s much of an insult coming from your mouth.”

Your eyes snapped to his, suddenly remembering that he was in the kitchen with you. You brandished a fork in your hand like a weapon, pointing the pronged end up at him like he was a piece of meat to be skewered. You were shorter than him, but the sharpness in your eyes made him pause.

“You.” Such a simple word, yet it sounded so threatening. “You knew didn’t you?”

Was he sweating? The room felt warm.

“I don’t know what-“ You snatched his wrist and with your magic, you stole the information from him that you needed. It was as easy as plucking a flower from a field. 

Fuck. Cassian groaned at the same time you did. You knew now. Not that you really needed confirmation from Cassian. Still. It was rather embarrassing to learn you were the last of… well everyone to know, even if it was your fault for not noticing the signs. In your defense you had been preoccupied with other matters…

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” You muttered, heating up the remaining food with a great deal of force before setting down a fresh tray, plate, utensils, and mug of tea on the countertop.

You keep muttering to yourself, your joy disguised by your embarrassment and no small amount of shock. Cassian watched nervously as you prepped the plate. 

You’d no sooner growled, “Move,” before Cassian leapt to the side and you set off out the door and down the hallway back to Azriel’s room.

She knows. One shadow whispered in his ear. Azriel felt his heart skyrocket and his stomach plunge to the cradle of his hip bones. 

She seems… upset.

Upset was a mild word. You were alight with every emotion possible — fury, fear, anxiety, excitement, love — and Azriel struggled to tease them apart. It was like he’d been hit in the chest by a tangle of snakes, each a writhing, living, ever-changing thing. One moment you seemed nervous, the next angry. 

“You.” Your knuckles were pale as they gripped the tray. Sunlight molded to your form like a crown, and it became all the more apparent that you were Helion’s daughter — his bastard daughter, but daughter nevertheless. 

He scrambled into a seated position just in time for you to drop the tray in his lap with a clatter that sent fork and knife skittering over the dish.

You looked down at the tray, then up at his eyes, wide and molten as amber. “You didn’t tell me.” You didn’t need to elaborate any further. 

“I didn’t think—”

“You’re right. You didn’t.” You blinked, suddenly shy. “Did I not make it clear enough that I liked you? That I loved—love you? Or perhaps you don’t… perhaps you don’t want me.” That was a possibility you hadn’t thought of in your excitement to see him again. 

Oh gods, you hadn’t thought of that possibility had you? You’d just aggressively thrown food at him, expecting that he would—

Azriel gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him again. Your cheeks were warm and painted with color. 

“I always worried I was reading into actions that meant nothing to you. But, never think for a moment that I don’t want you.” He smiled then, a shy, secret smile reserved for you. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you.” 

Now your cheeks were burning, but Azriel did not mind feeling this kind of heat on his hands. He let go of your chin, twirling a fork with his fingers like it was a knife. It was one of his few nervous ticks whose knowledge was reserved for the people he trusted. For the people he loved. 

“Being with me will put you in more danger than you know.” 

“But I expect it will bring me more happiness than I could have ever imagined.” You raised a hand up to his face, twisting away a stubborn curl of hair that fell over his forehead. “And you forget who my father is,” you reminded him. “Maybe it is I who will put you in danger.” 

“Maybe,” Azriel whispered. His breath fanned over your cheeks, soft and sweet. 

You picked up the fork, lifting it up in between you. 

“Eat.” You commanded him. 

Azriel smiled, plucking it from your fingers and stabbing a potato. He sighed. “I never could deny you anything, and I would never want to,” he said, before chewing carefully. Cautiously. 

You blinked in surprise, instinctively taking a step away when you felt something new and warm begin to burn in your chest, like someone had taken a drop of the molten hazel in Azriel’s eyes and dropped it into your heart. 

“Oh.” You breathed. 

“Yes,” Azriel murmured, “An unusual feeling, I know.” He placed the tray beside him and he’d no sooner opened his arms before you’d buried your face in the crook of his neck. You wanted more of that warmth in your chest. You wanted to slip into Azriel's skin as close as possible to his beating heart. To feel the mating bond wrap around you both like a curtain to block out the rest of the world. 

Azriel groaned in pain, but would not let you leave his embrace. No pain had ever been worth so much. 

You forced him to finish eating, even though all he wanted was the taste of you on his lips. “Later,” you promised him. When he was healed and whole there would be more breathless kisses and urgent touches, but for now he had to content himself with eating his meal and drinking his draught. But he would not be denied the press of your skin against his as you slipped beneath the covers and curled up beside him. This time, you fell asleep quickly and your dreams came over you like water. 

[taeyongdoyoung]

hide and seek

summary: your best friend chan finds you've been fantasizing about him and decides to turn those ideas into reality... pairing: chan x reader genre: smut, best friends to ??? warnings: *cracks knuckles* cnc/primal play, wolf/bunny roleplay, mention of safewords, traffic lights system (yellow used), hide and seek, mentions of pee, chasing scenario, blowjob mouthfucking, hair-grabbing, degradation, leg cramping, knees hurting, kinda realistic, unprotected sex, missionary but he holds reader down, pet names, daddy kink (like once), breeding kink, creampie, aftercare, discussion of future scenario 👀 author's note: this will be the first part in a series, i haven't decided yet how many parts, maybe three? stay tuned if you're interested 🤍 part two & part three word count: 2.5k

Chan simply asks you if he can use your laptop while you’re having a shower since his battery died and he really needs to check something work-related real quick. After doing so, he can’t help but notice the recently opened pages. He doesn’t mean to pry, really. But it’s right there. And a quick look into his best friend’s mind couldn’t hurt…could it?

He is immediately captivated by this story you’ve apparently written and keep hidden in the drafts of your blog. It’s so…sexy and unlike anything you’ve ever talked to him about.

“Dumb little bunny, thinking you can get away from me,” the big bad wolf growls in the bunny’s ear.

The bunny whimpers helplessly, trying to escape the wolf’s strong grasp but to no avail.

The wolf takes the bunny from behind mercilessly, biting her neck and using her to please his needs...

What comes at the end of the story is what shocks him the most.

“Chris, please…”

Huh? Which Chris? Chris Evans? Or maybe Hemsworth? As far as he remembers, you have always been more of a Sebastian Stan and Tom Hiddleston kinda girl but…people change, he supposes.

Until it hit him. His name is also Chris! And people do compare him to a wolf…But no, it couldn’t be…There is no way his best friend is writing stories fantasizing about him.

Unless…

He can’t imagine going on with his life without knowing the answer. So, Chan waits impatiently until you are done with your shower.

“Everything good with your work thing?” you ask him calmly once you return to your room.

“Yeah, all is good. But I found something way more interesting on your laptop,” Chan blurts out meaningfully.

The expression on your face is enough of an answer. You look completely mortified, like a true bunny that is waiting to be devoured.

“I forgot to clear my history, didn’t I?” you murmur even though you already know what Chan has seen.

“That story wasn’t about Chris Evans, was it?” Chan wants to know though he suspects what the truth is.

You immediately drop to your knees in front of him, which takes him by surprise. Gripping his hand tightly, you look so cute and pitiful. He wants to ruin you. Wait, when did those feelings show up?

“I know it was wrong, Channie, believe me. But I just couldn’t help myself, okay? Nothing else helps me get off but this fantasy. I promise I won’t do it again, please don’t end our friendship! You mean the world to me, I’m so so sorry!”

“End our friendship?” he is completely stunned by your train of thought. “Why would I? I mean, you never meant for me to see it, so I think it’s okay to have certain…fantasies. But now that I did see it, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“We don’t have to talk about it, if it makes you uncomfortable,” you suggest.

“You’re right, we don’t have to talk about it. But how about I make those scenarios come to life?”

“Huh? You want to what now?” you can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“It can’t be satisfying, dealing with all these frustrations by yourself.”

“It really isn’t…” you confess.

“Then, let me take care of you. That’s what friends are for, right?” Chan chuckles.

“Let me get this straight, you wanna re-enact my freaky fantasies while still staying friends?”

“Um, sure, why not?”

You would be a fool to agree. This could mess up everything. But you would be an even bigger fool to reject his tempting offer.

“I’m in.”

“Great! Then, should we discuss boundaries and safewords and stuff?”

“No boundaries, no safewords, you can do whatever you like to me, I don’t care.”

“This isn’t right. What if I want to use a safeword?”

Oh. That thought never crossed your mind but perhaps it should have.

“How about this…if I want a scene to end, I’ll say red. I know you said you don’t need one, but just in case, feel free to use it. If we want to just pause for a bit, then yellow. Green is good to go. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir. I mean, Chan. I mean, uhhh…do you want me call you something specific?”

“Whatever you like, babygirl,” he reassures you and pats your cheek. “Do you want to give this a try rightaway? Unless you’ve got other plans…”

“No way, let’s do this!” you practically jump at the opportunity.

“Alright. I’ll give you one minute to hide anywhere in this house. After that, I can do whatever I like to you.”

His words make you so thrilled that your heart threatens to escape from your chest because it’s beating louder than ever.

“If you find me,” you tease.

“Oh, I will,” Chan swears. “Now, run.”

You sprint out of your room and down the stairs, as he starts the countdown.

“Sixty…fifty-nine…”

Where should you hide? The living room doesn’t have any good hiding spots and neither does the kitchen. Under the table is too obvious. Your room would have been a good option but Chan is currently there, so it’s out of the question. The bathroom is right next to it, so once again, not a great idea. Then, it hits you. The basement! You don’t remember ever showing it to Chan so it will take him more time to think of it. You go through the door and run down another set of stairs leading to the basement. You see the perfect spot. A vintage wooden chest that just happens to be empty and is big enough to fit you if you squeeze in.

Okay, maybe not comfortable but you can survive in there for a couple of minutes. Once you’ve tucked yourself inside and closed the lid, you are suddenly hoping that Chan finds you quickly. Whatever he does to you can’t be worse than this tiny space. You didn’t know you had claustrophobia but in this very moment, you do. You can’t hear him from down here so you imagine he is looking through the other rooms first. After what feels like eternity, you finally hear steps. You are grateful that you recently peed before getting in the shower because the current situation would have undoubtedly made you wet your pants. As the steps approach, you begin to worry. What if it isn’t Chan? What if you’d forgotten to lock the door and now a complete stranger comes in to take advantage of you? No, these thoughts are irrational and make you want to use the bathroom. Ugh.

“I’ll give you ten seconds to come out and I’ll go easy on you.”

Chan’s voice both comforts you and freaks you out even more. You’re not coming out, alright. This spot was great! He can do whatever he wants to you.

“Three…two…one,” Chan finishes counting and opens the chest’s lid.

You look up at him, eyes blinking to adjust to the light. He pulls you out of it roughly.

“Last chance. Run.”

But then, you realize you were squeezed into that tiny space for so long that your leg had cramped up. You can’t possibly run right now.

“Um, sorry but yellow,” you feel like an idiot. You had said you don’t need a safeword and yet…

“What’s wrong?” Chan’s threatening gaze immediately softens and he rubs your elbow gently.

“I didn’t think I’d get a leg cramp in this freaking box,” you admit, ashamed of yourself as you shake your legs in an attempt to relax muscles.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Chan coos at you and helps you massage your leg. “Wanna call it a day?”

“Hell nah. Just, no more running, please.”

“Sure, that’s fine by me.”

“Sorry for ruining the mood.”

Chan shakes his head.

“You could never.”

“Okay, I think I’m good now,” you assure him.

“Scene?”

“Scene.”

“Did you really think you can escape me? Dumb little bunny…” Chan tsks at you and you feel your knees giving out. You need him so bad it’s not even funny anymore.

“Please, don’t hurt me, Mr. Wolf,” you plead with him even though every cell in your being would be glad to be on the receiving end of his anger.

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that? You should’ve locked your door to keep me out.”

If you tell him that you want him inside would it be too out of character for a scared bunny?

“I’ll do anything,” you promise crying. “I won’t tell a soul.”

“You’ll do anything regardless,” Chan smirks devilishly and grabs your hair harshly, pushing you to your knees. With his free hand, he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, wasting no time in pulling his cock out of his confines and stuffing your mouth full.

Fuck, your knees already hurt, probably because of that stupid chest but you choose to ignore the discomfort for now because this feeling of being dominated like that is too good to let go of.

“That’s it, take it like the useless cumslut you are,” Chan speaks degradingly but you’ve never been wetter before.

You wish you could say you are doing your best to give him a blowjob but the truth is you are not doing much, his hips thrusting forward aggressively, his hands gripping your hair. Your mouth is nothing but a cumdump for him. Your eyes are watering, vision is blurred. Your throat hurts too but it is nothing compared to the burning feeling in your knee. It is in that moment you realize that you didn’t discuss a signal for a situation where you can’t speak. You rack your brain for an alternative and remember that some subs opt for pinching their dom’s skin in an attempt to communicate discomfort. You really don’t want this to end but…

As you are overthinking this, you realize Chan’s already released his seed inside of your mouth and you are left with no choice but to swallow it up like the greedy cumwhore you are. Only for him, though.

His cock softens in his mouth but he doesn’t immediately pull out and only then, do you remember what you’ve been about to do.

You pinch his thigh lightly, looking up with moist, pleading eyes.

“What is it, darling?” Chan needs to know, taking a step back.

“Help me stand, please,” your voice is hoarse.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks as he grips your hands and leads you to sit for a while on the stupid chest responsible for your current pain. Okay, maybe, you brought this upon yourself but whatever.

“No, you were perfect, it’s just that my knees hurt. Fucking dumb wooden thing,” you grunt in frustration, punching it with your tiny fist.

Chan chuckles and strokes your hair comfortingly in complete contrast to how he was pulling it mere seconds ago. Then, he pulls you into his arms for a sweet hug.

“Sorry…I’m killing the mood again, aren’t I?” you pout.

“Not at all. Remember you’re in charge of whatever happens between us. You wanna pause, we pause. You wanna stop, we stop. I would hate myself if this doesn’t feel as good for you as it does for me.

“You feel good?”

“Are you kidding? Do you think I’d offer just anyone to fulfil their fantasies hidden in their drafts?” Chan laughs fondly.

“I’m glad you think so,” you smile at him gratefully. “I’m better now so if you’re still on board, we can continue.”

“I’m on board but let me come up with a new plan. I was thinking of fucking you doggy style but now that’s out of the question with your knee situation.”

Hearing him speak out loud what he was planning to do to you sends shivers down your spine. Damn it, maybe you should have just hidden under the table.

“How do you feel about missionary?” Chan inquires.

“Wouldn’t it be too intimate for the kind of scenario we’re doing?” you are doubtful.

“Not if I hold you down,” Chan murmurs smugly.

“Oh. Well, then…like I said, you can do whatever you like.”

“Action?”

“Action,” you confirm.

Chan wastes no time in pulling you up from your sitting position and pushing you down on the cold floor. He’s holding your wrists with one hand and undressing you with the other. Scratch that. He’s tearing your dress apart. It was never one of your faves.

“W-what are you d-doing?” you mewl at him.

“Shut the fuck up,” Chan commands.

He doesn’t bother with stretching you out because he sees you’re already soaking wet for him. Instead, he forces his thick cock inside of your tiny pussy.

Only this time, your screams are real and you’re not at all pretending.

“T-too b-big, it h-hurts,” you cry out.

“You can take it, bunny,” Chan says confidently.

You know that you can put an end to this with one simple word but damn, does it feel incredible to be stuffed full by your best friend’s large manhood.

“Shh,” he whispers in your ear. “This’ll feel so much better if you relax f’me.”

You’re trying, really. But it’s too much you feel like he’ll split you in half. Okay, maybe not a bad way to go but still.

“D-daddy, it h-hurts so m-much,” you slur mindlessly.

Wait, what did you just say?

“Daddy, huh? Easy, babybun, your wolf dad’s gonna take good care of you, I promise,” Chan’s words send you into overdrive and you come around his cock, your thighs are shaking and you’re arching your back. You can’t think anymore, you just need to be with him stuck in this moment forever. Soon enough, he releases his cum inside of your pussy.

You want to beg him to stay there for a while but you are too weak to speak.

Instead, Chan uses his fingers to push back the cum inside of your tiny pussy.

“Gotta make it stick. Will my bunny have my wolf puppies, huh?”

Oh? So, he’s that kind of guy. Well, you can’t say you mind...Besides, you’ve talked about this before and you’re on the pill so whatever he says is just for the sake of the scenario. Right?

“Was this okay?” Chan intends to find out and judging by his soft tone that is just begging to be praised you can tell that the scene is over.

“You did amazing, Chris,” you sigh wistfully and kiss his cheek.

“Better than your fantasies?”

“You have no idea.”

“So…when can we do something like this again?”

“Gee, let me have some water, at least,” you joke but your best friend (?) takes it literally and scoops you up in his arms, heading towards the stairs.

“Wait, where are we going?”

“To get you water, of course. And have a bath. And then to bed.”

Fuck. Maybe staying friends will be more complicated than you initially thought.

Once you’ve both been hydrated, washed up and dried out, you are cuddled in your bed, sharing snacks.

“Do you want to try something more extreme next week?” Chan asks casually. As if what you just did wasn’t already pretty intense.

“Um, sure? What exactly did you have in mind?”

“Kind of an outside setting. It will take some planning to make sure there aren’t other people but…it just came to mind while we were in the basement.”

“Tell me more about it,” you blink curioisly and put your hand on top of his.”

“So…how do you feel about being chased in a forest?”

To be continued…

[yourlocalbadgerscales]

So

~

90 notes: I’ll post some random shit I’ve been planning to post forever

160 notes: I’ll post a chapter of a fic I have drafted on Ao3 (y’all if I don’t post it before Oct 2 it’ll automatically delete itself so please save my fic before it’s too late oml)

250 notes: I’ll start going on walks at least once a week (I really need motivation)

370 notes: I’ll tell my best friend some big news about my identity (why am I so scared? Idk)

530 notes: I’ll post an audio of me singing something (you can wish for any song in the comments if you like!)

1660 notes: I’ll post a lot of shit I have in my Tumblr drafts + I’ll gather the courage ask my friends for a little money so I can buy myself my own phone (I need a second one in case anything bad happens to me and I have to run away from home. No, I won’t elaborate.)

1850 notes: I’ll take more time to do the things I love this winter.

2000 notes: I’ll wear my lesbian pin in front of my mum and hope she sees it.

2300 notes: I’ll tell my therapist a lot of things… things she probably needs to know but I’m scared to tell her.

2800 notes: I’ll try to talk to my crush in school. Small talk, okay? Nothing more. I’m so scared don’t make me do it-

3100 notes: I’ll finish reading Art Heist, Baby! (No. Please.)

~

I won’t be tagging anyone because y’all are insane and I’ll be forced to keep my promises… sigh

ONLY TWO NOTES PER PERSON!!! Edit: Yup only 2 notes. Can y’all tell I really don’t wanna do all this lol

DOBT MAKE MUNOIST GET TO 2800 BECAISE I DONT WANT TO DO WHAT MY FROEMD WANST ME TO DO AJSHSJSJSJ

[yoongifis]

💌 switching positions | myg

where the boy that you’ve got wrapped around your finger works his hardest to change his position from a somewhat friends-with-benefit to an official relationship with you. [and hes not the only one who will be switching positions ;)] *if you haven’t read ‘fxck a fxckboy’ yet, i suggest to read it before reading this! or don’t :p do as you wish!*

pairing: flirty/smartass!y/n x fuckboy!yoongi

; warnings: ass grabbing, ass slapping, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, fingering, creampie, cock warming, blowjobs, handjobs breastplay, usage of sex toys, masturbation, usage of mature words, some dirty talk, jealous yoongi

; genre: smut (18+), pwp

; wc: 11k (hooooly sheeeeiiit)

a/n: SHES FINALLY HERE AAAAHH!! a little continuation of fuckboy yoongi~ hehe! very very sorry it took me so long! i had this in the drafts for a while and was slowly building it throughout the year :v now i've gotten busy bc your girl got into nursing school :') don't get me wrong though, i'll do my best to put out some writings here and there bc i do enjoy doing this :p i also wanna say thank you so much for showing so much love to the original 'fxck a fxckboy' fic!! i didn't expect it to gain that much attention, so i was pretty hyped to see a lot of people enjoying it :D i really hope you guys enjoy this one <3 it's just a little somethin' to fulfill your fuckboy yoongi needs hehehe. fair warning though, this is literally pure smut with no sort of plot (call me a horny mofo lmfaoooo). please ignore my grammatical errors :') i'll fix them at some point when i am notttt lazy ! :p

-

“Yoongi, could you quit it? I’m trying to help you study for your exam!”

The two of you were in one of your university library’s study rooms—which included a whiteboard, a table, and a couple of chairs in a somewhat small amount of space. Out of all the seats that were around the table and the free space this room has to offer, he chose to stand right behind you, hands wrapped around your waist as his head rests on the back of your shoulder as you wrote things on the whiteboard. 

He’s groaning out of boredom. 

“But isn’t this supposed to be a date?”

You snort with a chuckle, “yeah—a study date.”

You went a couple more rounds on the day you first slept with each other (and damn did he go crazy). After that, you told him you didn’t want to fuck him without being “official” because it felt like you were one of his little flings. He respected that, and really held himself back (although he does manage to sneak some kisses from you here and there to get his daily dose of you). He became eager to get you to be his girlfriend, but like you said you wanted to go on dates before you can agree.

And that’s what he did.

He’s been making everything into a date. And so far, he’s taken you on plenty.

Work on assignments together at the school library? (study) Date. 

Drive around town, enjoying the views as you guys talked? (car-ride) Date.

Watch a movie at his place with all the snacks he bought just for you? (movie night) Date. 

How about the two of you make dinner together? (cooking) Date.

It was cute. Something you’d never expected from him. Did he always have this romantic, sweet, and cheesy side to him? You could tell he is trying to keep his promise—take you on a bunch of dates till you agree to be his girlfriend. It may seem a bit too much, but due to his past history you wanted to make him wait and work hard for the ‘boyfriend title’—which he was willing to do. 

“Still a date,” he mumbles.

Yoongi’s squeezing you tightly, bringing his head to the crook of your neck, lips just slightly brushing against your skin. 

“Yoongi, you’ve got to study. They’re not going to let you graduate if you don’t pass this class. This is what you get for always skipping.”

“I just don’t understand that calculus shit. And I can’t study when you’re around.”

“You don’t even like it when I’m not around—but it somehow has to be me that has to help you with studying.”

“Exactly.”

You’re chuckling again at how cute he was. How is it that he was one of the biggest fuckboys at your school and now he’s the biggest simp for you?

“How about we make a deal?”

He hums, “I’m listening.”

“Pass the class and I’ll give you whatever you want.”

His head shoots up. “Whatever I want?” He repeats.

“And I’ll stop your suffering and agree to be your girlfriend.”

It’s like a whole switch went off in his body; he was ready to get going.

“You don’t have to tell me twice, princess,” he’s removing his hold around you, finally taking a seat with a pencil in his hand and a paper in front of him as he looks at you, “if that’s all it’s going to take for me to be your boyfriend, I’ll do it.”

—

Of course, Yoongi left himself with only two days to study for his final exam. It may seem like not enough time, but one thing you learned about him is that he can get really determined to do something especially if he gets some type of reward from you. 

He surprisingly locked himself in his room (according to Hoseok), and was trying to do things on his own. He also did not contact you at all that day—making that day the first time the two of you haven’t hung out or contacted each other since the day you both had that little confession session.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you were honestly missing Yoongi despite it only being a day. You’ve gotten so used to having him constantly around you that him not being right next to you felt so off. 

These feelings must’ve been bothering you so much because now you’re at the front door of his apartment with an early dinner of take-out in your hand, waiting for Hoseok to open the door.

“He’s still in his room—the doors unlocked this time which is new. I would have loved to join you guys but I promised to go out with the other boys,” he pauses. “…I did ask Yoongi to join me but he told me to ‘get lost’, so—,” he grumbles under his breath as he makes his way around you.

You laugh at him.

“No worries, Hoseok. Just go have fun.”

The two of you switch places, with his hand still on the door handle as he’s about to head out.

“I should be saying that to you guys,” he wiggles his eyebrows at you, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Yoongi’s right! Get lost already!!” You gently hit the side of his arm as he laughs at your reaction. “Don’t be so weird.”

“Who said it had to be those things? I never said that,” he laughs, but you roll your eyes at him. “Go out, watch a movie, or cook—whatever to get him up and out of his room. That guy isn’t even getting enough rest like usual and barely ate today and yesterday. I’ve literally never seen him like this before—he’s actually studying pretty hard for his exam.”

You’re thinking to yourself, giving him a little nod before he says his final goodbye and shuts the door.

God—Yoongi is really serious about this.

You knock before you enter, only to be faced with Yoongi at his desk, tons of loose paper scattered everywhere and crumpled ones on the floor. He didn’t even notice you until you said his name, his focus from the lecture playing on his laptop switched to you when he glanced over his shoulder.

“Babyy,” he mumbles lowly, a little smile on his mouth.

You’re walking towards him, expecting his eyes to stay on you but they don’t. He’s listening to whatever lecture he had on, scribbling down whatever. It kind of hurt a little. You were too used to having his attention all on you.

“Have you eaten? I brought some take out.”

All he does is shake his head, still focused on his work.

A small pout on your face appears, upset with how he was. You put the bag filled with food onto the floor, next to the drawers of his desk. You take a step closer to him, a hand immediately going to his head to run your fingers through his messy hair. You gently massage his scalp with the pads of your fingers, leaning over to take a look at his work. The only sound that could be heard between you two was the lecture that he had playing.

“Look at you, working so hard,” you broke the silence, “you literally weren’t able to be like this at the library.”

He doesn’t say anything. Just a little “uh-huh”. It was more of a little grunt in agreement. 

It bothered you that he wasn’t talking to you like usual. No hands or eyes all over you—nothing! 

You remove your hands away from him.

“Yoongi, don’t you want to relax with me for a little bit?”

It was obvious you were pouting again—you can just hear it as you spoke.

“Can’t, baby. I’m sorry,” he mumbles. He didn’t even bother to glance over at you or complain how you removed your hand from his head. 

“Not even just for a little?”

You hear him exhale, the small action enough to make your heart sink just a little.

“Baby, I’m a little busy. Go lay in my bed and rest for me over there, yeah? I’ll join you as soon as I can.”

Now that definitely hurt.

He didn’t even take a look at you again! Not one glance.

Without a word, you sat on his bed. Eventually you quietly lay down, taking your phone out to scroll through your apps even though you’d much prefer to be talking or hanging out with Yoongi. 

The silence and sound of his lecture videos and the small scratches of his pencil on his paper echos in the room.

Who would have thought you’d ever see Yoongi ignoring you or not be all over you when you’re in the same room as him?

You immediately got to thinking.

And it hit you.

You toss your phone somewhere on the bed, getting up and making your way to Yoongi. You stood next to him, watching the way he doesn’t even acknowledge your presence. He sits there silently, carefully watching his lecture. When you see the right moment, you turn his chair a bit towards you, giving you enough room to squeeze your way through and sit on his lap while facing him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Baby—,” he sighs, “I told you I’m busy right now. I can’t have you on me like this.”

“But babyyy I miss youuu,” you whined, “can’t I get a recharge?”

You notice him completely freeze, slowly taking in what just happened—it was the first time in forever where you didn’t call him by his name.

You mentally smirk to yourself.

Now that’s what you were waiting for. 

He swallows hard, keeping his composure. 

“Yeah?” He hums, “I have the test tomorrow and I’m trying to get a good grade on it. If I let you sit here with me, you gotta promise me that you won’t distract me. This test means a lot to me. Got that, baby?”

You tighten your hold around him, nestling your head against the side of his neck. You nod your head at his words. Not because you agree or that you’d promise to follow his conditions. It was just for the sake of his sanity.

He clears his throat, hitting the play button and grabbing his pencil to continue scribbling down notes or whatever. 

Everything was pissing you off at the moment. 

You missed his hands being all over you and the way he’d fight his way to steal another kiss from you while you’re trying to push him away because he was always greedy for more. You wanted him to be annoyingly head over heels for you while you try to be nonchalant about it. And it’s also crazy to think that it’s only been a couple days and you’re acting like this over Yoongi not showing you the same attention as usual.

You give it some time. Patiently waiting until you thought it was time to get him all riled up—and then maybe he might just pay more attention to you. But being extremely patient at this moment is a pain in the ass, and you knew you didn’t want to drag this on forever. You move around on top of his lap, trying to somewhat grind against him as you pretend to get yourself more comfortable. You move your face closer to his neck, nuzzling your head on the top of his shoulder. You softly exhale, allowing your breath to hit and tickle his neck. 

Nothing. No reaction. 

You place your soft lips against his skin, giving him very light kisses on the same spot.

He slightly tilts his neck away without a word, causing you to huff in annoyance. You immediately bring your lips to his neck again, placing slow and gentle kisses on the side of his neck that instead lead to a spot under his ear and along his jawline.

He groans, clearly enjoying your actions but conflicted with the need to resist the temptation of you.

“Baby,” is all he says, voice sharp and stern. 

You pull away, sitting up straight to face him. 

“Enough.”

You could tell on his face that he was being serious.

Well..trying to. And it was cute—which is why he wasn’t as successful with intimidating you.

You roll your eyes at him, making your way towards him to pepper his jawline with kisses.

“But I miss youu,” you mumbled against his skin, making your way to his ear.

“…and I want you so bad, babyyy.”

You hear him mumble a “fuckin’ hell” under his breath and his hands creep underneath your thighs. He’s picking you up and you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck tightly. In no time, you feel your back hit against the bed. You watch him adjust himself so that he’s eye level with you as he hovers above you. Just by the look of his dark eyes, you knew you were in for it. 

“Yoongi—,” you squeaked.

“Hm?” He hums, voice rough. 

The atmosphere around him felt different this time. It was just hard to point out what it was. Nevertheless, you brushed it off. As desperate this may sound, you were finally getting what you wanted and you’re not going to let anything get in the way. All you wanted right now was him because—fuck—you miss him. 

“Please—,” you mumble.

It felt embarrassing to be underneath him like this with his hungry eyes beaming at you—and that’s all he’s been doing for the past how many minutes that felt like an eternity. You watch his eyes flicker from your eyes and down to your lips, clearly tempted to just devour you then and there but he doesn’t. He shifts in his position, bringing his right thigh in between your legs and pressed against your crotch, giving you the opportunity to grind against him—cuz fuck, you couldn’t help it. You wanted to be touched—you needed him to do something to help you get some relief but he didn't do anything.

He watches you carefully. The way your eyes flutter shut and open slowly as you attempt to grind against his thigh, begging for him to do something.  God, you were just so fucking tempting. But he couldn’t.

Instead, he brings his head to the side of your neck, peppering a messy line of light kiss along it. He leads the trail up towards the side of your jaw, almost mimicking exactly what you were doing earlier. Once he makes it to the spot underneath the lobe of your ear he pulls away.

“What do you want, princess?” He softly speaks into your ear. 

The sound of his voice and the way his breath hits your skin already sends shivers down your spine. It was really just the effect he had on you, and he never failed to make you feel this way. Your mind was already drunk off him, words also didn’t seem to want to come out of your mouth.

He removes his thigh away from you and sits up, getting another good look at you before he lowers himself more till he becomes face-to-face with your abdomen as he lays in between your legs. He lifts up the oversized hoodie you wore, but only exposing your tummy. From there, he started to place slow and soft kisses from below your chest and leading down to underneath your belly button. These actions were making you go crazy—maybe it has been too long since you’ve been touched this way by Yoongi.

He stops giving your tummy kisses when he reaches the spot under your belly button, making you whine out a little “please”.

“Mmm?” He hums, looks up at you as he sits back up to admire you. “What baby? You want me to go further, don’t you?”

You nod at him, your eyes telling him that you need more.

He gives you a lopsided smile before bringing his head to the side of yours, his lips slightly grazing the shape of your ear.

“I don’t fuck just anyone anymore, remember? My girlfriend is the only person I ever want to fuck.” 

What a damn smart ass.

He’s already pulling away chuckling before you could wrap yourself around him to keep him on top of you.

“Whaat?!” You whined, “—but Yoongi!”

He’s laying in between your legs, arms wrapped around your hips as he nuzzles the side of his head on your tummy. You watch him get comfortable and his breathing slows. 

“Yoongi,” you gently pat his head in annoyance.

Silence.

“Yoongi, wake up,” you huff.

Nothing.

The exhaustion finally caught up to him and made this man fall asleep on you just like that.

You grumble to yourself in annoyance—a perfectly good plan gone to waste. You do your best to shove him off you (of course it took a couple tries). Once you finally got him off you, you took your needy ass home.

That was just it.

Hoseok could deal with this man when he gets home!

—

You honestly couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that you’re in this position right now. The Yoongi you were seeing now was a complete 180 from the one you were dealing with yesterday.

“What’s with the little outfit you have underneath your hoodie, princess? Were you already expecting me to come over?”

His smile is cheeky, the thought of you waiting for him to come home in that outfit got him smiling like crazy. 

Fuck—it  made him way too happy.

You hum, carefully picking out your words.

“I was going to film something.”

“Yeah?” His eyes widen, and his imaginary tail starts to wag. “as a congratulatory gift, huh?” 

“That… or a ‘sorry-you-failed-you’ll-get-it-next-time’ gift,” you chuckle.

He scoffs at your words.

“You thought I wouldn’t pass?”

“I mean there was a possibility, wasn’t there, Yoongi?”

He chuckles, bringing his eyes from you down to your thighs.

“You don’t get it, baby,” he hums, fingers lightly grazing down your thigh, “you told me you’d be all mine if I passed this exam.” He pauses, removing his fingers from your thigh and brings his face closer to your skin, pressing chaste kisses that lead up to your inner thigh. He gently bites down, earning a little yelp from you.

Yoongi sits up to face you eye-to-eye again, admiring the annoyed look on your cute face yet there was a slight shift in his demeanor.

“There’s no way I’d ever want to lose to a prize like that, baby. And even if I weren’t able to pass that exam, you know damn well that I’ll make sure to make you want to be mine.”

He stares at you, mentally undressing you causing him to lick his lips. The way he looked at you made you feel small, despite his eyes flickering from your eyes, down to your lips, and to your bare legs. It suddenly felt embarrassing to be wearing such an outfit under a hoodie while being in front of Yoongi. 

As if he could sense your feelings, he gets off the bed and grabs your swivel chair from your desk, placing it right in front of the end of the bed. He takes a seat, leaning back with his legs spread and arms crossed over his chest.

“Show me what you were about to film.”

“Yoongi—,” you mess with the bottom of your hoodie, pulling it down to cover yourself some more, “—you know I can’t —.”

“Show. Me.” He interrupts, words sharp. His voice was low and demanding—and you hate to admit it but it was definitely turning you on.

You swallowed hard, awkwardly clearing your throat before answering him. 

“I’m—uh—,” you croaked.

“What is it?” 

“My—um…,” you mumbled “…it’s in the drawer on your right.”

He raises an eyebrow, turning to his side to pull open the drawer of your dresser. He rummages through it without looking until he feels a particular item he can already recognize. The boy brings it out, holding it in front of him with a snicker.

“You were going to use this too?” He’s waving it around, a big smile on his face.

Your grow even more embarrassed, face flushed. You look down, avoiding his gaze as you sheepishly nod your head.

“What a treat,” he hums, “but don’t you need to prepare yourself before using your little toy?”

You lift your head up only to find him still watching you with a teasing smile. 

“Let me see how you get yourself all nice and wet, princess—then I’ll hand this over to you.”

As you’re sitting on top of your legs in a kneeling position, you bring your thighs a little closer to each other—and he immediately notices it.

He’s tipping his head upwards, giving you a signal to “go on”. 

You could just not listen to him but in all honesty, you’ve been waiting so long to become intimate with him again. And knowing him—especially from what happened the other day—he’d definitely tease the shit out of you and not give you what you want if you don’t follow his orders.

You try to brush off the nerves you were feeling, moving your legs from underneath. Your legs were spread apart, knees bent and feet on top of the bed, giving him a good view of your skimpy, sheer underwear you chose to wear today. He could already tell you were wet—just from a quick glance at your panties he’s already spotted a little wet patch.

With just your index and middle finger, you take the two digits and place them over your panties and on top of your clit, rubbing it in small and slow circles. You were already closing your eyes, throwing your head back while moaning softly. Maybe it was the effect of his presence or just him overall but you felt even more turned on than when you do this by yourself.

“Panties to the side, princess.”

You do as he says, feeling the surge embarrassment run through you, causing your face to grow hot and red. You continue to slowly rub your wet clit, with your head turned to the side as you whimper and moan all while avoiding him.

“Don’t avoid your pussy, baby. It needs some attention too,” he hums, “put a finger in.”

You look at him, biting down on your lip as you remove your fingers from your clit.

You hesitate a bit before slowly inserting your middle finger into your heat, pumping it in and out as you turn your head away from him to avoid his gaze. You bit down on your lip with enough pressure to leave indents, suppressing your moans from Yoongi.

“So good baby, you’re such a good girl.” He coos.

“Your pussy is just sucking your finger right in, princess,” he chucked, “making a whole mess just from one finger.”

You ignored his comments, torn between concentrating imagining that your fingers were his own or his cock that were filling up your pussy, or the fact that you wanted to hide yourself and your moans from the man in front of you. God, it’s embarrassing—to be exposed and to be playing with your most private part right in front of a man you were head over heels for. Yoongi, however, wasn’t having it. He thought this whole thing was the biggest turn on he’s ever had. You were the sexiest girl on earth to him, especially with the nice treat of you playing with yourself. 

“Nnnggh—ahh~!” You yelped, quickly looking down to see the man in between your legs, eyes dark as he lapped up your overflowing essence. Your movements stutter, and he takes that as an opportunity to move your hand away and replace it with his, making you a bit noisier than before. He pulls his face away, thumb playing with your clit as he keeps eye contact with you.

“There we go, baby. Don’t hide that pretty face from me,” he smirks. It was easy for him to read you—he already knew that you would try to avoid his gaze. He’s tossing your pink dildo on the bed, removing his hand from your clit. He places each hand on the back of your thigh of each leg, pressing your legs against the sides of your chest and nearly folding you in half. This position was one of his favorites—he was always able to see everything while he ate you out.

He keeps a tight hold on your legs, making sure they stay in place. He switches from using a flat tongue while moving his head side to side to using just the tip of his tongue to stimulate your sensitive and erect clit before sucking it—completely indulging in all your juices that were flowing out of you. 

“W-wait!—please!” you squealed.

He has you squirming, lifting your hips in an attempt to get it away or closer to his face. The noises he made were obscene— loud slurps, low hums. He ran his tongue up and down your slit, lapping up the essence you produced. He uses that thick piece of muscle to probe at your hole, plunging it in and out of you. He buried his face into your pussy, his tongue moving around your hole as his nose brushes against your bead, allowing him to inhale the sweetest scent of you.

He loved watching the look you had on your face—cheeks brushed red, mouth hanging open, eyebrows furrowed. It was a sexy look—and being in this position where he had a good view of your lower half and your face could almost make him cum. He removes his hold from one leg, bringing that free hand to easily slide two fingers in you as he abuses your clit with his mouth, causing you to let out a strained gasp.

“Y-yoon…gi~!” You cried.

He hums against your clit before removing himself.

“Fuck, princess—,” he curls his fingers upwards as he thrusts them into you, “—you taste so damn good.”

“Please—! Need you!”

He’s chuckling at you—thought that you looked so damn adorable that he was contemplating to tease the shit out of you or completely fuck your brains out.

“Yeah? You need my cock, huh, baby?” With his two fingers in your pussy, he uses his thumb to rub your clit, causing you to clench around him. He becomes more aggressive with his thrusting of his fingers.

“Hhhnnghh—!” You squeak, feeling yourself about to reach your high. You’re gripping onto the sheets, arching your back. Right there—it was right there. You could feel the way he was trying to get you to release. But once you almost felt that wave of pleasure, it was quickly taken away from you. Your legs shake and you clench around nothing.

“You owe me a show, princess,” the man hums, bringing the wet digits to his mouth. He spreads his two fingers apart, making a v-shape as he takes his tongue and licks around his fingers—the slick, sticky essence coating them— all while making sure to maintain eye contact with you.

“Yooonggii—,” you whined with a pout, bringing your legs together to rub your thighs against each other to feel something. “Was almost there, Yoongi~,” you mumble with a pout, innocent eyes glistening at him. 

He’s standing up as you spoke, chuckling at how desperate you looked. 

“God, you’re fucking cute.”

It was clear to him how badly you wanted him to continue. But he had to hold himself back because he just had to play around with you. The man reaches over the bed to grab the sex toy he tossed earlier, holding up to show it to you.

“I got you all ready for this, baby. Show me how you use it.”

You look at him with a flushed face, lips pouting at the fact he wasn’t going to continue what he was doing earlier. It was annoying—stopping you from cumming just because he wants to see you ride your dildo. You were hoping the pleading look on your face would change his mind—make him want to continue, but he doesn’t budge. You slightly roll your eyes at him, reposition yourself to sit up in front of him on your knees again. 

He smirks, satisfied with how well you’re listening to him even though he can see right through you. Yoongi gently tosses the dildo in front of you before taking a seat. You took the toy into your hands, holding it as if it was a foreign object to you. 

“Go on, baby.” He hums, keeping his eyes on you. He looked relaxed; slightly slouched against the chair with his legs manspreading. 

You huff, mustering up the courage and to mentally preparing yourself to do such a lewd act in front of him (even though the two of you have already slept with each other and seen one another naked and whatnot…). You lift yourself up, standing on your knees with them slightly spread apart. You hold the bottom of your hoodie underneath your chin, which exposes just your tummy, while you try to position the toy underneath you. You bring your panties to the side to expose yourself, brushing just the tip against your slit which makes you clench around nothing. You  slowly sink down once you feel yourself wrap around the tip. 

“Haaa~,” you gasp, tilting your head back as you sink down even further. You’re a whimpering, mumbling mess when you have it completely in you—and fuck has it been a long time since you’ve actually used it or been fucked by Yoongi. You allow yourself to get yourself adjusted.

He focuses on how your face scrunches up and how your mouth hangs open, since you’ve let go of the bottom part of your hoodie and is now covering where all the action was. 

You missed this feeling of being full that it was making you go crazy. You wanted to stay like this, but for some reason you felt like wanting to move. You lift your hips up in an attempt to have the toy just barely in you, but it doesn’t slide out of you so you sit down again.

“Your pussy isn’t letting it go, princess. You’re gripping it so tightly,” he chuckles, leaning forward so that he’s closer to you and the bed. “I’ll hold it for you, baby.”

You nod, lifting your legs up as you try to relax yourself, letting your dildo slide out and onto the bed. You stood there on your knees, waiting for him to do something.

He brings his hand to the bottom of your hoodie.

“Hold this up with your mouth for me, baby. Make sure this part is the part you’re holding with your mouth”

You look at him a bit weird, not fully understanding his specific request but you do it anyway. You bring the fabric up to your mouth, now completely revealing your lingerie to him.

Ah…What a smartass.

He notices you roll your eyes at him, making him chuckle. He takes the sex toy and holds it with the base in his palm.

“Alright, baby. Go at it.” He’s positioned the dildo underneath you, waiting for you to get on it again. 

The two of you make eye contact as you slowly sink down again. You feel the tip of the toy brush against your wet folds, causing you to bite down on the fabric a little harder than before. 

Why are you more excited? Is it because of Yoongi? 

Fuck, you wanted him badly.

As you slowly slide yourself down on the dildo, you’re  immediately throwing your head back again, breaking eye contact but he continues to watch you. You feel yourself reach the end of it, only for you to immediately raise your hips and again to slowly start moving up and down. You find a rhythm as you bounce on the toy, your hands finding their way to massage your breasts, massaging them with the lingerie still on as your moans are slightly muffled from the fabric in your mouth. 

“Look at you playing with yourself. You look so sexy, princess. You were going to film something like this for me, right baby?” He hums, reaching over in his pocket to take out his phone. He opens up the camera app, tilting his phone upwards to get the whole view of you and starts to record you. “I'll help you and be your cameraman—look at the camera, princess.”

At first he gets a shot of all of you—you glancing down at him and the camera with a flushed face before quickly throwing your head back, hands grabbing at your own breast over the sheer fabric covering them, your hips moving on its own as you bounced up and down. He then pans the camera to your pussy swallowing up your dildo.

“Yeah, keep moving like that, baby. You’re making such a creamy mess on your dildo like a good girl. You’re gripping so hard—fuck, baby,” he groans lowly.

He watches the way all your overflowing juices were pooling at the base of the dildo and makes sure to get a good shot of it before tossing it to the side.

“Take the hoodie off, baby.”

You do as he says, tossing the fabric somewhere on the floor. He takes in the way you looked in the skimpy piece of clothing you wore underneath. 

God, you blew him away. 

You were just so. damn. beautiful. 

The white made you look heavenly—angelic, actually. And the lacey, sheer fabric that covered you wasn’t necessary at this point, but damn did it do a good job at catching his eye. The set you had on also had some frills on it, along with a little bow in the middle of your waistband and of your bra. It all suited you—it was perfectly made for you.

He literally just couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

With his free hand, he caresses the curve of your waist to the curve of your hips. He takes a finger and curls it underneath the thin waistband of your panties, following it slowly until he removes it once he reached the middle of your thigh. Yoongi brings his hand up to your chest, using his index finger and thumb to pinch your erect nipple right through the sheer fabric.

“Haaahh~,” you stutter in your movements, letting out an airy moan.

God, he needed you so bad.

He takes the hand that is holding your dildo, flicking his wrist upwards, causing you to fall forwards and pause your movements. He slides your dildo back out, only just to slam it back in and keep it at a steady pace—fucking you with your dildo as you stay still leaning over him. His free hand goes to the side of your ass, helping you stay up.

“Yoongi—!” You whine, your arms making its way to link behind the man’s neck. Your chest is nearly pressed against his face, giving him the opportunity to grab a mouthful of your breast. 

The man encases your hard nipple through the fabric in his mouth, biting down on it enough to get another moan of his name out of your mouth.

“Nnnghh~!” You squeal, pulling him closer to you. 

He then begins to suck on your nipple, toying with the metal bar that’s pierced right through it. With how sheer the fabric is, he’s practically sucking on you rather than the fabric.

Your legs begin to shake as he starts to pick up the pace with your dildo. You could feel that high again, the same feeling you felt earlier when he was eating you out like a goddamn monster.

“Yoongi!” You chant with your mouth slightly hung open, “please! Right there—!”

He’s slamming the dildo inside you, filing you all the way. He’s hitting the spot that made you roll your eyes backwards, your mouth hanging open and spewing nonsense.

He removes himself from your breast, pulling back to take a look at your face, admiring how sexy you are. God—he can’t get over you.

“Go ahead and cum for me, baby,” he mumbles lowly, “lose yourself already.”

He uses the hand on your ass to guide you on your dildo while the other hand has it sliding in and out of you. He brings his lips to your collarbone, trailing kisses towards and up your neck.

You breathe heavily, mouth hung wide open as pleasure takes over you. It almost felt like you were being fucked by him, but it was nearly enough. 

“Yoongi—yoongi!” You chant before losing yourself. You rest your head on his shoulder, listening to your heart pound crazy while you catch your breath. 

“Good job, baby, you did so good.” He kisses the side of your head, slowly removing the dildo from your pussy, earning a little whine from you.

He lets you sit down on his clothed lap, your wetness probably leaving marks on his sweats. At this point, you could most definitely feel how hard he was right now. You lift your head up and look at him with fucked out eyes. Your hands were clasped behind his neck, while his hands rested on your waist.

You grind yourself against his hard erection, hoping he gets the hint that you wanted him now instead of having you beg for it.

The corner of his mouth lifts up to a small smirk.

He’s lifting you up as he gets you both off the bed. He’s turning around, gently bringing you down on top of the bed.

“Lie down for me, baby,” his voice low.

He gets a view of you again in your sexy lingerie. Yes, this fucking sexy ass lingerie—god, all the mental photos he has of you will definitely be on repeat in his mind. He didn’t want to remove it. I mean—it would be a waste if he had to. Just the look of you in such a pretty yet skimpy outfit made him go crazy. 

You attempt to be quick with closing your legs again, keeping some modesty. However, he was able to beat you by bringing his hands on either of your legs and pushing them slightly down to keep you wide open for him.

“So pretty,” he mumbles under his breath as he salivates at the look of your body. You grew embarrassed again, having the urge to shut your legs to cover you up but Yoongi was too strong for you.

“Can you tell me what you want next, baby?”

You already knew he was going to tease you—actually he probably just wanted to hear those words come right out of your mouth. It would be music to his ears.

“Yoongi, please…,” you mumble, “don’t you want to fuck me?” You give him the most innocent doe eyes that you could, hoping he could lose himself already.

He chuckles.

“Of course, princess,” he brings himself closer to you, taking his painful erection and grinds himself against your slick, teasing your little hole. “You want me to fuck you like this? With my clothes on? It’s making such a mess on my pants, baby.”

You bite down on your bottom lip, shaking your head no. You wanted more, and you know that he knows that already.

“Thought so,” he hums. “Be specific, baby. Tell me what you want me to do.”

You hesitate a bit, but his teasing was enough to make you more upfront with what you wanted.

“Take your clothes off too, Yoongi.”

“Mmm…were you feeling alone?”

“Extremely, Yoongi”

He chuckles as he removes every piece of his clothing from his body, tossing it wherever in the room.

“Can’t let my baby feel that way,” he hums.

Your eyes go from his to below his waist, watching him slowly remove his boxers and revealing his cock. It was thick and long, an angry red at the tip with a bit of precum oozing out. 

Your hand gravitates towards it, holding it by the base and squeezing it a little. You completely forgot how big and girthy he was. As you slide your hand up and down his cock, you got him lowly groaning while you thought to yourself about whether or not this thing could fit in you again. But fuck—you wanted him so bad. 

“…please Yoongi,” you remove your hand from his cock, looking up at him, “fuck me already.”

He’s smiling, bringing his cock closer to your core. He takes his thumb to push his cock on top of your slit, and keeps it there. He slides himself back and forth, coating himself with your slick, teasing you as he rubs the tip of his cock against your clit.

You let out a little whine from his touch. 

“Want your cock inside me, Yoongi,” you mumble.

He’s leaning forward to press a chaste kiss on your forehead, his facing hovering yours.

“It’s all yours, baby.”

He’s leans in again to steal a passionate kiss from you, while he slowly pushes his cock inside your soaked hole. You slightly pull away from him, your mouth hanging open, spewing out soft moans as he fills you up. 

He gives you the chance to get used to him being inside you. And fuck, did he miss your fucking pussy. 

He pulls his hips back, letting you miss the feeling of him filling you up before he slams himself right back into you again.

“Haaah~! Yoongi!” You say breathlessly. Your hands crawl to hold the sides of his face, as he continues to leave a trail of scattered kisses from the side of your neck and down to your chest. He’s pulling the cup of your bra down, exposing you before he latches on to your pierced nipple. 

He starts to pick up the pace as he thrusts into you; finally leaving your breasts alone with hickies that mark you as his. He stands straight to look down at you, watching you writhing underneath him. He pulls the other cup to your bra to expose the other perky and pierced breast. His eyes mesmerized by the face you were making as you were getting fucked by him, your tight pussy sucking him right up, and your tits bouncing everywhere—god it felt like they made him even harder.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he grunts as he thrusts into you, “you’re all mine, huh?”

You let out little more whimpers and moans, unable to make out any sentences. He chuckles, wanting to see you lose more of yourself. He lifts your leg and puts it over your shoulder, wanting to penetrate you even deeper. He takes his right thumb and gives it a quick lick with his tongue before placing it right on your clit, rubbing it in circles.

“Nnnggh—ah! Yoongi!” You yelp.

“My pretty girl. You take me in so well, huh?”

He watches you let out louder moan, realizing that his cock grazed your most sensitive spot.

He’s snapping his hips hard against you. He lifts his knee up to place it on the bed, angling himself so that he could continuously hit that spot that had you rolling your eyes back. He presses down on your clit harder, torturing it with quick and small tracings of a circle.

You’re mumbling nonsense, spewing out whatever came out of your mouth. He could feel you tightening around him, making him let out another groan.

He looks down at the area where you two were connected, admiring the creamy mess you were making on his dick. His eyes wander upwards to your heavenly body. Then up to your cute face, making all kinds of sounds as he pounded you—God, he’s actually going insane, he was grunting with every thrust. 

“W-wait! Haahnngh~! Yoongi!” You bring a hand to his abdomen, weakly trying to push him away as he’s drilling himself inside of you. 

“Please!” You whined, “s-something’s coming out!” 

A soft smile slowly forms on the man’s face as he watches yours—mouth hung open, nonsense whining. You were writhing underneath him, trying to get away from him but he wouldn’t let you. He presses a soft kiss on your forehead before putting more strength into his thrusts.

“Yoongi!” You yelped, letting out helpless whines as you can feel yourself about to reach your high. 

Your hands wrap around his back, your sharp nails scratching him enough to show red lines and possibly make him bleed. 

He gives a final thrust, causing you to squirt all over his pelvis area and onto the bed when he removes himself from your hole.

“Fuck…,” he grumbles under his breath.

He watches your chest move up and down, eyes closed as you’re still trying to recover from what just happened.

“You made a fucking mess, baby. You squirted all over me.”

Your eyes shot open, propping yourself up with your elbows to look down at what you did.

“I just…?” You lay yourself down again, covering your eyes in humiliation. It’s the first time you’ve done that before. “Yoongi—this is so embarrassing,” you whined.

“Embarrassing?” He’s leaning forward to kiss the back of your hands before gently removing them away from your face, eyes now on him. “That was sexy as fuck, baby.”

He’s lifting you to sit you up before he carries you again. He sits first on the edge of the bed, placing you on his lap while facing forward. Right in front of you, you had a view of the two of your naked, sweaty bodies. Hickies scatter across your chest, your legs spread apart and glistening from you making the biggest mess. You feel your cheeks grow red from looking at yourself.

He helps remove your sheer, lace bra off. His hands roam around until they glide up and down the sides of your waist.

“Look how sexy you are, baby. So, so fucking sexy.”

He’s tapping on the side of your ass, signaling for you to lift your bottom just a bit, which you did, as he helps you remove your panties. He holds his cock up, and helps you guide your hips to it. You slowly slide down on his cock, fully taking him whole, causing you to let out a shaky moan.

“Bring your feet up, baby.”

You do it, placing one foot on either side of him and near the edge of the bed. He has his chest against your back, an arm holding your waist to keep you steady while his other hand is pushed against the bed behind him to hold him up.

“Bounce for me, princess. And keep your eyes on the mirror. Need you to see what I see when I fuck you.”

You bite down on your lip, looking at him through the mirror and he tips his head again telling you to “go on”. You slowly lift your hips up, feeling somewhat empty without his cock in you, until you drop yourself down on him. The fullness had you moaning out his name, throwing your head back in pleasure.

“I told you to watch yourself, didn’t I?”

You keep a steady pace on his cock, your eyes closed and mouth hanging open again.

“…too embarrassing—,” you moan.

He scoffs, annoyed with your response. He wanted you to see how you looked—how your body reacts when you have his cock stuffed inside of you. He wasn’t going to let that answer slide.

The man hooks his arms under the back of your knees, carrying you while he keeps himself in you. Your eyes flash open when you feel yourself in the air.

“W-wait! Yoongi!” Your hands go to your face to cover your eyes. You lay your back more against him to keep yourself from falling forward.

He’s moving you on his cock with no difficulties. He has you bouncing up and down, while you’re still trying to process what’s going on.

“Look at how much of a slut you fucking look like, princess,” his voice low and gravely. 

The contrast of his words turn you on. Peaking through your fingers, you catch a glimpse of your glistening, naked body. 

“Remove them, now.”

You swallow hard, finally facing yourself. Your eyes wander, watching the way your pussy took in your boyfriend’s cock, how you were making such a damn mess on it, the way your perky breasts bounced around while he thrusted upwards into your pussy. It was all so vulgar—a dirty scene that came out of a porno.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby. This is the view that I get—andI’m the only one who gets to have this view.”

Despite feeling slightly embarrassed about watching yourself, you couldn’t help but feel a bit more turned on. Who knew you could make such a dirty yet sexy expression?

You’re furrowing your eyebrows, mouth hung open as you whimper and moan. Your hand travels down to your lower abdomen, holding it there to feel a slight bulge whenever Yoongi pushes himself in you. It was actually insane to you to be able to feel and see this.

“Go lower, baby. Play with yourself.”

Your hand slowly inches lower, grazing your skin. You take a finger and draw small, slow circles on your clit. You watch yourself through the mirror, your eyes flickering to watch your scrunched up face to how Yoongi was pounding your pussy while you played with your swollen, sensitive bead.

“Fuck—that’s it baby. You listen so well,” he grunts. 

He adjusts his hold under you, making it more comfortable for him to slide you in and out of him while he fucks you harder underneath. He was basically doing bicep curls at this point—his muscles were nearly on fire but he couldn’t care any less.

“More pressure baby.”

You follow his commands, and you have yourself throwing your head back again as you lose yourself. Your sensitive clit makes your hips shake, causing you to squeeze tightly around him. You hear Yoongi slightly growl in your ear, going crazy because of you. 

“You’re milking my cock so hard—you want my cum that bad, huh?” His voice was gruff.

He holds you a bit lower, stopping his little bicep curls and instead continues to fuck you from underneath at a faster pace and with more forceful thrusts.

“Ngggh—ahh~!” You yelp from the change in speed.

“Don’t fucking remove your fingers. Keep playing with yourself.”

You were nearly seeing stars again. You couldn’t think straight. But you could feel that same feeling you felt earlier, and you knew you just couldn’t hold that knot in your stomach anymore.

“F—fuck! Yoongi! Ah—!” You cried, “cumming!”

“Fucking cum for me, baby. Lose yourself already.” 

He’s thrusting you with all the power he can, while his face was stuck on watching your reaction on your airbrushed slightly red face. 

Soon, he's pulling out of your slippery, wet hole. Your mouth makes an “o��� shape, before crying out Yoongi’s name as you orgasm again.  Your body fluids shot out of you and coating the mirror—and you squirt again, just as he was wanting to get you to do. 

Your head falls back against his shoulder, eyes closed as you were trying to catch your breath. You could feel your hips still twitching from being so sensitive. This was something you’ve never experienced before. 

He’s kissing the side of your head, mumbling sweet words. He gently lays you back down on the bed on your back, allowing you some time to relax for a bit. You can feel the mix of his and your fluids seeping out of your hole, dripping down to your other puckered hole.

Your eyes flutter open and they couldn’t help but take a quick scan at the naked man’s body that stood in front of you. As you look lower, you can’t help but notice that his cock was still painfully hard, standing up straight with a slight curve to it.

He towers over you, watching every small movement you make. Although he was being sweet to give you some time to rest, by the look he was making you could tell he was hungrily waiting for the next round. He licks his lips as a lazy smile forms on his face as your eyes finally meet.

“Yoongi…,” you mumble. Your hand makes its way to his length, wrapping your fingers around it. Your essence still coats him, making it slippery enough for you to slowly stroke his cock. You look up at him with half-lided eyes.

He lowly groans in pleasure, throwing his head back for a second before bringing it back to look at you.

“Mmm…yes, baby?” 

“All that fucking and you’re still so hard?”

He’s laughing, an odd thing to do when someone is giving you a handjob. 

“I can’t get enough of you, baby.”

“Yeah?” You hum, slowing your movements. 

He takes his hand and wraps it around yours, helping you pump his cock before he starts to guide it to your slit. The two of you drag the tip against your wet folds.

“Looks like it’s the same for you too, baby. You’re fucking wet again.” He’s pushing himself into you again, the two of you letting go of his cock. He slowly sinks in, getting a little whimper out of you.

“All that fucking and you’re still clenching onto me so tightly, baby. You really love my cock inside you, huh?”

He’s pulling out, still keeping the tip in, before he thrusts back into you. 

“Mmmph~! F-fuck…! Yesss, Yoongi.”

He’s chuckling again, keeping his pace steady.

“Yeah?” He hums, bringing one of your legs over his shoulder. He wraps his arm around your thigh to keep it steady. Taking his free hand, he uses it to press firmly against your lower abdomen. You’re mumbling nonsense again from this new feeling of pleasure.

“God—I fucking love you,” he grunts, bringing your other leg over his shoulder. He’s leaning against you, practically folding your body in half just to reach you even deeper. This position had you rolling your eyes back, reaching for any body part of him to dig your fingernails into his skin. Yoongi would switch it up at times—from giving you fast yet shorter strokes to taking his sweet time as he pulls himself nearly all the way out just to slowly bring himself back in. However, he made it his goal to make sure every thrust was sharp enough to bruise your cervix. 

Your mouth hangs open, nothing but airy moans escaping from it with every thrust he makes. He brings his face to yours, using this opportunity to probe his tongue into your mouth. His tongue dances along with yours before he captures it in his mouth. He’s sucking on it, eliciting more moans from you but he removes himself to swallow them. You pull away to catch your breath, the knot in your stomach becoming tighter.

“Gonna…cum—,” you mumble under your breath. 

Yoongi huffs, giving you small pecks on the sides of your mouth. He really didn’t need you to let him know. He could already tell by the way your insides were clamping onto him. 

He’s quickly removing himself from you, denying your orgasm. The man watches your hips move in desperation, your hole spasming around nothing as he helps you rest your legs on the bed.

“Yoongiii—hnngh…,” you cried, voice whiney. “So mean,” you quietly mumble.

He smirks at your words.

Without any word, he rolls you onto your stomach. The man lifts your hips upwards to have your ass sticking up and spreads your legs apart. He pushes the upper portion of your body against the mattress, your arms cushion your head as you lay there. With his large hand, he presses on the small of your back, helping you with a deeper arch. 

“Beg for my cock, baby.”

You turn your head around to look back at him, shaking your head in disagreement while he has you in this position.

His left eyebrow lifts up and a dark chuckle escapes his lips.

“You were behaving so well earlier, princess.” He hums, taking his dick and running it through your wet folds to collect your arousal. “Now you want to be a brat?”

“Don’t want to beg anymore,” you mumble.

He scoffs. “So should I end it here?”

“Go ahead. I’ll find someone else who could do a better job then. They would let me cum.”

He smacks the sides of your ass, getting a yelp out of you.

“Watch your mouth.”

“Maybe I can call up this one guy—.”

He grasps the sides of your ass, spreading them apart to reveal your needy pink, dripping hole. He slowly sinks into you, causing you to let out a shaky moan. Yoongi keeps still inside of you, making sure you’re taking in all of him.

“You only need me, baby—your fucking boyfriend. I’m the only one who gets to see you this way and get you to cum.”

He can’t help but absolutely hate the sound and the thought of you with another man. It drove him crazy just hearing you mention “some other guy”.

Your eyebrows furrowed together, little moans coming out of you as being stuffed with his dick made you go dumb in the head.

“—Yoongi—ngggh—! Move!”

He lifts your hips higher, pressing the small of your back to get you to arch your back more. He leans over you, his pelvis pressed against your ass, making you feel his dick even further in you, causing you to let out a swear. He leaves gentle kisses on the back of your naked shoulder.

“Say please,” he mumbles into your skin.

“F—fuck, Yoongi!” You grumble, annoyed at his words.

He waits patiently, letting his silence and your soft whimpers fill the air. The man couldn’t care less if he had to stay in the position for hours—he loved the feeling of your soft, warm, and wet pussy pulsating around him. 

And with that, you knew you couldn’t win.

 “—Please—!” You cry out. 

“Remind me who I am again.”

“—boyfriend!” You quickly spat out, desperate for him to move already.

“You gonna be a good girl for me again?”

You’re quick to nod your head ‘yes’.

He grins at your response, happy with how easy he can get you to be submissive when you’re full of his cock.

“Now was that so hard to do, princess?”

He’s pulling out, just the tip barely in you.

“…annoying,” you mumble under your breath.

He slams himself into you again, causing you to moan out his name.

“Yeah? I’m annoying too, huh? A big mean, annoying boyfriend, right?”  His voice was low and gravelly.

He starts to find a rhythm and pace as he starts to pound your pussy. Snapping his hips to make sure his skin hits against yours as loud and as hard as he can, the noises filling the room and the skin of your ass slowly turning a shade of red.

He’s searching for your dildo that was thrown somewhere nearby. Once he finds it, he’s immediately taking it. He leans over you as he fucks you, placing the dildo in front of you. Yoongi halts his movements, removing himself from you.

“Yoongi~,” you whine, swaying your ass side to side. You push your hips back, trying to find him so you could reconnect again.

God, this view—this scenario. It’s all he could easily get used to.

“C’mon, baby you can’t be doing that to me,” he slightly groans, “you’re driving me crazy.”

“Please,” you mumble, bringing your hands behind you. You place one hand on the sides of your ass, gently spreading it apart so that Yoongi has a better view of your weeping hole. You turn your head to look back at him as you hold yourself in this position, swaying your ass side to side. “Please go crazy and fuck me already, Yoongi.”

What a fucking invite.

“Fuck,” he hissed, running his hand through his wet hair. He could feel all the blood in his body rushing to his cock, making him painfully harder. His mind went damn blank just from hearing you say that while being in such a pornographic position. 

You seriously knew how to turn him on. 

How fucking dangerous.

He’s bringing himself closer to you, rubbing his erect cock in between your ass, allowing it to slide back and forth. It gets you impatient, causing you to wiggle your ass again as he continues with his movements.

“Be a good girl and keep that dildo in your mouth while I fuck you, alright princess?” He gives the side of your ass another gentle slap as a form of encouragement.

Yoongi patiently waits for you to start bobbing your head, along with the vulgar slurping noises you obnoxiously made.

Did you really enjoy having that dildo inside your mouth when he was right behind you?

He mentally scoffs out of jealousy, knowing that he shouldn’t be feeling this way at all. 

You became louder with your muffled moans once Yoongi was inside of you again, making those dumb thoughts disappear. The view of you being filled up both way clearly made him way too hard—he was instantly fucking you at a brutal pace, almost as if he hasn’t touched you in ages.

He’s rougher this time; using one hand to gather your hair and make a makeshift ponytail just to wrap it around his hand to help you guide your head along your dildo while the other free hand is gripping the side of your ass as he fucked you from behind.

“You’re so fucking good, baby. Sucking on your dildo while I fuck you senseless, just like a pretty little slut you are.” 

His thrusts had more force to them, your skin turning redder than before. He wanted to demolish you, make you melt underneath him. All you could do was hum into your dildo in pleasure, holding onto the base for dear life. You could feel tears threatening to spill out of your eyes whenever your dildo would reach deeper in your throat, causing you to gag on it. Of course, Yoongi thought all of this was sexy. God, it was fucking sexy.

He found that one spot again that has your mind spinning. The man angles himself so that he kept hitting that spot over and over again.

You immediately pull away from your dildo, drool escaping from the sides of your mouth.

“Y-yoongi—!” You yelped, your hands let go of the dildo after you toss it to the side, now gripping onto the sheets.

He releases his grip on your hair, moving his hand to the front of your neck to pull you up and your back arched against him, changing the position again. The other hand around your waist to keep you steady.

Yoongi brings the side of his head to yours.

“Not gonna let you get away from me,” his gravely voice whispers against your ear—and god did that send tingles down your spine.

The pressure of his hand around your neck was pleasurable enough to keep you lightheaded. However that hand goes to toy with your breasts, fiddling with piercing and pinching your nipple before taking a big handful of your breast to massage it as he fucked you.

He finally brings his hand to your front, pressing his two fingers against your swollen and sensitive bead. You feel your hips twitch, unable to control your body movements. All you could feel in this moment was how hard the two of your heartbeats were and pure ecstasy. This man knew how to fuck. Scratch that—he knew how to fuck you. He’s already memorized what had you throwing your head back, what’s got you clenching so damn tightly around him, or what has you babbling nonsense just from fucking you a couple times.

“Yoon—gi! Haaah~!” You turn your head to the side and towards him. He brings his face to yours, attacking your lips again before you pull away a moaning mess.

“Fuck—you take me in so goddamn good, baby,” he grunts, “you wanna cum, huh, baby?”

You’re nodding your head, feeling yourself nearly on the brink of losing yourself again. He’s just about bruised your cervix enough and made your damn clit so swollen and sensitive to touch. You knew you were already making a mess around his dick.

He moves his hand away from your breast and around your waist again, embracing you and holding you tightly for what’s yet to come. Your arms hold onto his arm with one of your hands interlocking with his, a gesture that had him feeling like his heart grew 10x in size. He loves you. He’s way too in love with you—head over heels at this point.

If it was even possible, he’s fucking you even harder. Grunting into your ear, telling you how good you are, how damn pretty you are—how fucking perfect you are, practically made just for him. It was all enough for you to finally lose it, and it was the same for him too. He’s groaning in pleasure when he feels your pussy twitching around him. His warm cum coats the inside of your walls before it oozes out when he removes himself. You fall forward and lay against the bed with your arms weakly holding you up. He watches the mixture of your cum slowly dripping out before he takes his two fingers to push it right back in, only for it to slip out again. He’s quick to get the kleenex tissues to wipe you up, letting you have some time to  catch your breath. You’re rolling over to finally lay down on your side, watching the boy walk through the door.

“I went ahead and got the bath running, baby,” he hums, helping you sit back up. He pulls you onto his lap, pressing a gentle kiss against your temple. 

“You’re insane, Yoongi.”

“Am I?” He lazily smiles.

“I really don’t know what possessed you back there.”

He laughs, “Baby, I haven’t had a taste of you like that in so damn long. I couldn’t help it.” 

Before you knew it, he had you relaxing in the bathtub while he cleaned up the room and got it ready with new sheets and all for the two of you to get some rest. 

—

You could feel Yoongi’s body pressed against your back; his arm sitting across your waist and his head nuzzled against the back of your head. This was all something you had never imagined for yourself—to be lovingly cuddled like this after a long night with your now boyfriend who was an ex “fuckboy” from your school, but it’s definitely something you could get used to. 

You carefully remove yourself from his hold, quickly replacing yourself with one of your pillows. You glance over at him to see his sleeping figure one last time before leaving, and softly scoff with a smile on your face. 

This man is actually very cute when he’s sound asleep.

You quietly pick out some new clothes before tip-toeing away to your bathroom across the hall to get yourself ready for that well-deserved shower.

-

After putting on your clothes, you open the bathroom door, letting all the moisture and heat out. You take the time to gently brush your hair a little more after blow drying it, then applying some hair oil to the ends of it.

“You can’t just leave me like that and expect me to be okay with it.”

Your head quickly turns around to see the mumbling boy, squinting a half-asleep eye at you while using one of their fists to rub one of their other eye. You chuckle at his appearance—his naked torso and his boxers. He stood there in between the door frame, looking like an actual child who just woke up.

“It was just a quick shower, babe.” You turn around to the mirror and continue what you were doing. “I’ll be in the room soon.”

He grunts, making his way towards you as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you against him and lays his head on top of your shoulder.

“Yoongi~,” you whined with a soft chuckle. 

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s only allowed in bed.”

“Mm, so last night was just it, huh?”

He snorts with a chuckle at your comment, barely having enough energy to react a lot bigger.

“‘One time’ my ass. You’re stuck with me. Not letting you off that easy.”

He turns to your head and presses kisses to your hair. You bring a hand up to gently pat the side of his cheek.

“Congrats on passing the class,” you mumble, “and for finally getting that boyfriend title you’ve been wanting.”

Yoongi turns to look at you with a big smile on his face through the mirror, your hand gently caressing the side of his face. The two of you turn to each other, pressing a small kiss on the lips before pulling away.

“I know a better way you could congratulate me.”

You immediately knew exactly what he was hinting.

“You told me you’d give me whatever I want plus the boyfriend title.”

Fuck—yeah, you did promise that.

You sigh in defeat.

“…Breakfast first?” You bat your eyelashes at him, giving him that doe-eyed look that made his heart flutter like crazy.

He looks at you with so much adoration, in awe that this beautiful girl was finally his. 

-

if you got this far, thank you for the read <3 :)

i hope you enjoyed!! pls check out my other work!

[hoe4hotchner]

Bakery owner reader x loyal customer hotch

Something with the team finding out about reader and seeing hotch all happy and smiling and whipped for her.

Later them finding out they’re actually dating and penny freaking out 😭😭

Love, Freshly Baked | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Bakery owner!reader

CW: Nothing but tooth rotting fluff

WC: 1k

A/N: Forgive me for having this drafted for ages!!! But here it is, and it's super duper cute!!!

           The smell of fresh pastries and brewing coffee filled the small bakery every morning, a cozy retreat nestled on a quiet corner of the bustling city. You had been running the shop for a couple of years now, getting to know every regular by name, but there was one customer who had quickly become your favorite.

           Aaron Hotchner.

           He’d been coming in almost every morning for months, ordering the same thing - a black coffee and a croissant - but it wasn’t just the simplicity of his order that caught your attention. It was the way he always seemed so calm and composed, even when the stress of his job was written all over his face. You weren’t sure what he did - all you knew was he had to wear a suit for the job - but you could tell it wore on him. Still, every time he walked through the door, his shoulders relaxed just a little, and a small smile would tug at his lips when he saw you.

           What you didn’t know was that Hotch’s team had noticed this change in him. It started small - an extra cup of coffee in the morning, a slightly brighter demeanor after breakfast - but it wasn’t long before the rest of the BAU picked up on it.

           “Anyone else notice how… happy Hotch has been lately?” Emily asked one morning as they gathered around their desks, waiting for the next case.

           Morgan leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow. “You’re right. I haven’t seen Hotch smile this much in… well, ever.”

           "Maybe he’s just found a new way to deal with stress. Meditation, perhaps?” Spencer didn't look up from the book he was reading as he answered.

           Penelope scoffed, twirling a bright pink pen in her hand. “Please, Reid. Hotch isn’t meditating. Something - or rather someone - has got him smiling.”           

           The rest of the team exchanged looks, curiosity piqued.

           A few days later, their suspicions were confirmed.

           It was a slow day at the office, so Hotch decided to take a longer-than-usual lunch break. What he didn’t realize was that his team had quietly followed him to the bakery, determined to find out what - or who - was behind their boss’s newfound cheerfulness.

           “Look,” Penelope whispered excitedly from across the street, pointing toward the bakery window. “He’s smiling! He’s actually smiling!”

           Sure enough, through the glass, they could see Hotch leaning against the counter, his face lit up in a way they’d never seen before. And then there was you, standing behind the counter with that same soft smile you always gave him.

           “Oh my god,” JJ whispered, her eyes wide. “Is that the bakery he always talks about?”

           “Looks like it,” Derek said, grinning. “And it looks like our boy is whipped.”

           Inside the bakery, Hotch had no idea he was being watched. He was too focused on you - on the way your eyes sparkled when you talked about your latest recipe, the way your hands moved with such care as you worked on rolling out the dough. Every morning spent in your presence was like a small respite from the chaos of his job, and he found himself craving that peace more and more as time went by.

           You handed him his coffee, and for a moment, your fingers brushed his. The simple contact sent a warmth through him that no amount of caffeine ever could.

           “You know, Aaron,” you said softly, your voice carrying the warmth that always made his mornings a little brighter, “you’re going to start running out of excuses to come here if you keep this up.”

           Hotch chuckled, a rare sound that you loved hearing. “I’ll think of something.”

           As he turned to leave, he glanced back one more time, catching your eye and giving you a smile that was just for you.

           Meanwhile, across the street, Penelope was practically bouncing with excitement. “You guys! He’s totally into her! Did you see that smile? We have to find out more.”

           A week later, the team got more than they bargained for.

           It was a Friday afternoon, and Hotch had just returned to the office after lunch. He was in a good mood, his smile lingering longer than usual. That’s when Penelope burst into the room, holding up her phone like it was a trophy.

           “Guys, you are not going to believe this!” she exclaimed, her voice high with excitement.

           The team gathered around, eyes wide as Penelope pulled up a photo she’d found online. It was you and Hotch, taken outside the bakery on a sunny day. He had his arm around your waist, and you were looking up at him with a smile that could melt hearts.

           “They’re dating!” Penelope practically squealed. “Hotch is dating the owner of the bakery!”

           The rest of the team was equally stunned.

           “Okay, now it all makes sense,” Emily said, grinning. “The extra coffee, the smiling, the mysterious bakery trips.”

           Morgan shook his head, chuckling. “Never thought I’d see the day when Hotch would be this smitten again. It’s nice to see him happy.”

           Penelope, however, was still in full freak-out mode. “Oh my god, we have to do something! Maybe throw them a surprise party or - wait, no, that’s too much. But we have to celebrate this somehow!”

           As they brainstormed, Hotch walked back into the bullpen, completely unaware of the chaos his relationship had caused among his team. But when he saw the knowing smiles on their faces, he paused.

           “What’s going on?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

           Penelope couldn’t hold it in any longer. “We know about the bakery, Hotch! And about her!” she blurted out, practically glowing with excitement.

           For a moment, Hotch was silent, his eyes scanning the room before he finally let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “I should’ve known you’d find out eventually.”

           The team erupted into laughter, and for the first time in a long time, Aaron Hotchner didn’t mind being the center of attention - because, after all, it was all for a love that made him happier than he’d ever been.

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - 18+ mdni - more vacation - smut

Simon left the windows open last night.

He’s not sure what possessed him to take such a risk. The vacation flat may be on the third floor, picked for the view over the beach and shoreline, but the height is not something that would thwart someone with an objective. A mission to kill.

A person like him.

He supposes he left them open because he wanted to watch the thin cotton curtains wave in the breeze. He wanted to smell the salt and hear the birds. He wanted to memorize the sunrise’s painting across your bare skin, the broad strokes and dappled splotches of dawn that turn you into a living canvas, a work of art. The prettiest one he’s ever seen.

You’re hardly covered by the sheet, on your side, one arm above your head, the other stretched out towards his side of the bed. You slept like a dead woman last night, gone to the world, lightly snoring and tossing in the small hours. He stayed up for most of it, tracing the slope of your nose with his fingers, counting your spots, birthmarks, moles, the whole lot. You’re usually a light sleeper home, your subconscious skimming just under the surface, ready to wake you at a moment’s notice for the baby, an instinctive driving you to hover on the edge of deep sleep.

He says he’s not sure what possessed him to let the sun in so early this morning, but deep down, he’s aware of the farce.

He wants to catch it in the light. The small angular sapphire on a gold band, the one he slipped on your ring finger last night while you were lost in your dreams. It’s a simple thing. Unremarkable even. Unobtrusive, as it should be. It doesn’t call attention to its size, or you, or who may have put it there, but it sits so naturally, like it’s always belonged.

He slipped it on six hours ago and well, he’s tired of waiting for you to see it for the first time.

He pulls you into your body, little spoon to his big, and tugs the hand wearing his ring into his, carefully shifting your knee forward. You sigh.

“Simon?” He kisses your shoulder, your neck.

“Go back to sleep sweetheart.” The thick of your ass is plump at his hips, hard cock settled in the cleft between your cheeks.

“What’re you doin’?” You yawn, still not able to really open your eyes, and he nudges at your temple.

“Just a little cold mama, there’s a bit o’ a draft in here.” He traces down your slit, pleased to find you already wet, probably from when he played with you clit earlier this morning. He hefts up on his arm, lining up with you before slowly pushing his way inside your body. You’re wet and warm and perfect, and he groans into your neck, weaving his fingers between yours. His thumb strokes over the stone in your ring, cock still and sitting in your wet pussy. You moan.

“Ah-“

“Feel good?”

“So full.” Your lashes flutter. He kisses your cheek.

“Be good for daddy, sweetheart. Keep those eyes closed, stay nice and still. Keep me warm.” He’s savoring the moment, dragging it out, practically edging himself, waiting for the second you truly wake up and realize what he’s done, what’s happening.

You whine. He slaps your ass, lightly, enjoying how you jiggle and ripple afterwards. The sun tired you out yesterday, effects still lingering, and he rubs a soothing palm over the swell of your ass, shushing you. “My sweet girl, look’t you. Keepin’ my cock warm, hungry for it even in your dreams.” You whimper, clenching, and he starts to move, dragging in and out of your heat, holding you too tight to his chest. Your mouth hangs open in a permanent gasp, fingernails sinking into his thigh.

“Oh my god.” He directs your hand onto the pillow in front of your face, his fingers locked on yours. Another thrust, deeper this time, enough to make you squeak, and then he whispers in your ear.

“Open your eyes mama.” His heart is a sharp staccato, frantic snare drum rolling through his head. He waits, and waits, slowing the roll of hips until your brow furrows, confused at the stall of his pace.

The curtains wave, picked up by a breeze, and the sun skitters across the foot of the bed, slowly spreading up the mattress, over where he’s sunken deep inside you, to the pillow, your face, your hand.

The sapphire sparkles in the morning light.

A beat. Then two. The blood pounding in his ears-

“What… Simon… wait… did you-“ you’re babbling, confused, stunned, and he pulls away, almost completely, before bludgeoning back inside your pussy until there’s no room left, and your back arches.

“That’s a ring, sweetheart. My ring, on your pretty little finger.” He thrusts again, snapping into you with a snarl. The ring is clouding his vision, the clutch of your pussy trying to milk him deep into your womb. “My ring, my babies, my wife.” The plural slips, future plans laid bare, but he distracts you with teeth to your shoulder, playing with your clit, persistent, frenzied pressure screwing your face up until your eyes are clenched closed and he’s fucking you so hard his hips slap against your ass with a shuddering, satisfying sound.

“Daddy- fuck. ‘m gonna come,” you pant, spine curling, and he cups your jaw. He’ll never not be able to look you in the face now, he’ll always need to see you, watch you, drink in every expression like they’re his salvation.

Maybe they are.

“Good girl, there it is, come for me, come all my cock.” You choke, you cry, keening in his arms, sweet kitten turned feral, and he bands a forearm around your chest as he rocks in and out, faster and faster, meeting you blow for blow, release spilling from him and into you, a reaffirmation of the bond you’ll carry, he’ll carry, for the rest of your lives.

“This is crazy.” You’re holding your hand up, staring at the gem glistening against the backdrop of turquoise sea. “You’re insane. You know that right?” He barks a laugh, tugging you down onto the blanket.

“I do know.” There’s sand in your hair, sand littered across your collarbone, sand on your nose. He feels insane right now, sitting by your side, studying the ring he gave you, his ring on your hand.

Fuck. It makes his cock hard. Fills that ache in his chest, the ever present one that he’s had since the day he saw you on the sidewalk with his baby wrapped to your chest. Wild instinct that demands he possess every single inch, every breath.

You’re the moon. The silver light on the desert in the darkest hours of the night. The one gentling the primal deep of the darkest waters, pushing and pulling them in a rapturous tide.

He’s the sea. You’re the moon.

He glances around the beach. Finally. He overheard you and Cami giggling about skinny dipping the other day, and latched onto your admittance that you’ve never done it, but always wanted to try. “We’re alone.” You blink.

“Okay…”

“Want to skinny dip?” Your eyebrows raise, and he gives you a small half smile. There’s a little excitement in your eyes, balanced with caution.

“What if someone sees?”

“No one will.”

“But if they do… you’ll be okay with someone else seeing me naked?” His vision ebbs in red.

“No one will see us.” He doubles down, and you snicker.

“I don’t know. Maybe we shouldn’t… if someone saw you naked they’d probably call the zoo for an escaped anaconda sighting or something, they’d-“ He rolls to his feet, snatching you by your waist, walking towards the tide. You shriek. “Simon! Put me down!” With one hand, he rips your bottoms away and pulls his down simultaneously, before flipping you into the surf, careful to keep his hands on you even as you go under.

When you come up sputtering, you’re trying so damn hard not to laugh, affixing fake outrage on your face like a mask that won’t stay.

You’re so fucking cute.

He tugs the top free, and then you’re both standing naked, floating in the crystal cool water, rolling with the waves. Your feet leave the ground with each peak, and Simon swims after you when you’re on top of one, wrapping you up in his arms and turning on his back.

“I’ll drown you.” You protest, but don’t attempt to wrestle free.

“Mama you couldn’t drown me if you tried.” The two of you float there, toes to the sky in the sea, his hand on your waist, tethered, until your fingers are wrinkled and he's kissed each and every one.

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

Rose and Sandalwood ⭑.ᐟ 🫧 𓂃 𓈒𓏸

synopsis: taking a shower with Sylus ;)

tags: shower sex, begging, nipple play, pet names, vulgar, creampie, explicit

wrd cnt: 1.1k

a/n: 3rd sylus fic of the week i’m on a sylus spree rn i alreays have another draft that’s almost done with bondage and gunplay….i don’t wanna be saved guys

The humidity in the air clung to your body, just like a specific crow behind you.

Sylus suggested since you use up most of his resources, you should both try to save a little water together at the least.

He’s the one always offering you everything !!

For once you could already see through his sneaky ploys, but you certainly didn’t mind.

After bickering about the water temperature, he caved and let you turn it up til damn near boiling point.

“I don’t understand how you can stand this…it feels like I’m going to melt.” He says, standing behind you while you let the shower heads around you spray your body with steamy water.

“I don’t get how you can shower in ice cold water- maybe that’s why your skin is so nice actually…” You second guess yourself.

He smirked, “See,” he picks up a black glass bottle of what smelled like a luxurious body wash, “You could learn a thing or two from me, sweetie”.

Before you had time to think of a good response, Sylus lathered up the now bubbly body wash into his hands and rubbed your shoulders with it.

You laughed- out of both surprised and disbelief. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I expect you to do the same for me after this you know, repaying my kindness and all.” He said, his eyebrows raised and trying to sound serious while you laughed.

“Of course you just want something in return.” You retort.

His eyes narrowed, pulling your body closer to his as his other started moving around, soaping up your neck and dragging his large palm down to your breasts, making you wonder what he had planned.

“I did want something in return, now that you mention it…” He lowered his head down to meet your face, “You” He whispered, barely audible enough under the half a dozen shower heads surrounding the two of you.

“Sylus…” You whimpered, feeling both his hands tweaking at your nipples, dragging his soapy hands against your soft breasts. He kneaded them, squeezed and rubbed them while you held onto his wrists.

Before you had any time to stop him, he grabbed the back of your thighs and picked you up, your upper bodies pressed against one another; your soapy tits transferring the suds to his chest.

“You look so cute like this, kitten.” He mumbled, placing kisses to your neck and hearing your soft moans as you tangle your hand in the back of his head.

You forgot how tall he really was, and how high up he had you now; pressed against the glass of the shower while the water rained down between you. The smell of rose and sandalwood kissed your senses, with Sylus kissing your neck and chest.

“Isn’t the whole purpose of a shower- to be clean?” You spit out between moans, feeling his hard cock lay in position between your folds and his lower stomach.

“I can clean you up right after, with water and soap….or my tongue, I’ll let you pick.” He mumbles next to your ear. “Unless….you want to stop right here”. He threatens, slowly letting you down.

“No!” You reply, gripping on his shoulders to keep yourself in his hold.

“Then what’s with all the complacency? We really need to teach you gratitude.” He snarled, placing the tip of his cock right at your entrance, watching for the approval in your eyes- well, moreso the desperation.

“Sylus- please…”

“Please? Is that all? I’m going to need more than that.” He replies, his deep voice sounding even smoother in the echo of the large shower room.

“Please- I need you…” You measly reply.

“Hmph, I guess that’ll do.” He smirks, pushing his tip up and down your slippery folds, hearing you whine as he finally pushed it inside you.

You gasped, not fully used to his size after all this time.

“Fuck…you’re squeezing around me so tightly, princess.” He exclaims, placing his hands back onto your hips as you wrap your arms around his neck, and legs around his waist.

“Sy-lus…harder!” You gasp, feeling ever inch of him slowly pulling in and out of you, dragging his long cock in and out of your velvet walls.

His grip on your hips only tightened, definitely leaving some kind of soreness to be discovered later that night.

“Do you even hear yourself? Such a naughty girl.” He says, taking your words to heart and pounding your pussy even harder. Relishing in your submission.

You could hear all the lewd noises, the squelching sounds coming from your shared effort, the chuckle of Sylus as he watched your fucked out face just contort.

“Oh fuck- Y/n…” He moaned into your ear, he knew how much you loved that.

He can’t help himself but to speak his pleasure into your ear, holding you so close as he fucks you so deep. The steam from the shower only made your head lighter, you felt like you were on an actual cloud.

With his brutal pace, you almost felt like the glass behind you was going to shatter soon. Sylus started to rut into you, his thrusts getting erratic and quick.

“Sweetie- I’m sorry…It seems like you will be getting dirtier soon.” He laughed, a strangled one that showed how close he was.

You wanted him to make you feel even more warm, to fill you up and let it drip out of you.

And he didn’t make you wait too long, as you approached your own orgasm, you felt a tight knot in your stomach, the pressure of Sylus’ body pressed tight against you threatened to make it all unfold.

“Ah- shit…” He groaned, holding the bottom of your ass as he pounded you deeper, digging his nails into your plush skin as you felt ropes or cum splash into you, hearing a deep groan evade his mouth.

The knot inside you had broken as well, creating a ring of your own cum around his cock; while your cunt dripped out his.

You both realized you were in the shower so long you would have been better off showing separately, but where’s the fun in that?

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

can you PLEASEEEE do something with the idea of reader stealing/wearing katsukis clothes?? you’re the only one who i think will fully do this idea justice xx

pure fluff, reader is a thief, reader likes the way katsuki smells, roughhousing lol kinda ?? katsuki sorta tackles you, katsuki is a meanie, tickling, no pronouns mentioned in this one I don’t think ! lemme know if i missed sum else !!

a/n : hey so this has been sittin in my drafts for literal decades omg IM SO SORRY🙁🙁🙁🙁ALSO BTW TYSM FOR THINKIN I COULD DO UR ASK JUSTICE I WAS SO FLATTERED WHEN I READ THIS I WAS GIGGLING N SHIT🤭🤭i was always so excited for this ask but I literally never got around to doing it after my break n stuff, im slowly (and that’s suuuuper slowly im so sorry yall i suck) getting to all of your asks one at a time and im so grateful yall r still givin me the time of day honestly , so please be patient with me🤧💗💗💍 ! But anway enough dumping ! Anon if you’re still sticking around, i truly hope u enjoy this ! And ofc all of yall too ! much luv xxx!!

"you fuckin' thief.."

shit. you thought he'd be gone for longer.

lately, you’d been routinely sneaking into katsuki’s dorm room and nabbing some of his clothes. sweaters, hoodies, t-shirts : as long as they were in your reach, you’d grab them.

it's not your fault, really ! katsuki's clothes are so cosy and warm and they smell just like him. plus, they're perfect to snuggle in when he's busy, how could you not borrow them for a little while ?!

..except you can admit that you’ve been stalling..and a lot of his clothes were still in your room, but you still planned on giving them back..soon !

and you can’t even pretend, because you’re wearing on of his hoodies that had been missing for a good week now.

"katsuki, baby." you slowly lean away from his clothes drawer, your hand ready to snag a black hoodie of his slowly trailing towards the floor "i can explain."

"all my damn sweaters, my fuckin' hoodies. they all just vanished without a trace.." he starts, slowly stalking over to you. you squeak, slowing getting on your knees to prepare yourself should you have to break his ankles and sprint out of the room. he's fuming, eyebrows twitching "thought i was goin' crazy.."

"and all this time.."

"suki.." you try, voice wobbly as your knees shake with each step closer he gets.

"it's been fucking YOU ?!"

and he pounces.

with a squeal, you scramble and dash away just as he leaps for you and narrowly misses, he's got you cornered as you're on opossite sides of his bed while you beg for mercy and he keeps yelling at you to 'come here'. in a panick you grab one of his pillows and fling it at him.

it feels like the pillow slides down his face in slow motion to reveal a look so vile a demon appearing in front of you right now would scare you less

“you’re. so. dead.”

there’s really nowhere else for you to go. you’re truly cornered, you might as well just be buried right now. you think about the leftovers waiting for you in the fridge and how sero still hadn’t returned the manga he’d leant from you, but you’ve lived a pretty good life.

before your body can decide to move, katsuki leaps over to you tackling you and having you land straight onto his bed with a loud shriek.

frantically, you wave your hands around “wait, wait pleasepleasepleasepleasepleas-” but your begs of mercy are cut off when katsuki jams a finger into your side, causing you to yelp. he hovers over you with a mean smirk. and you know what’s coming.

“katsu—”

you don’t even get to finish before he jams his hands into your sides and mercilessly tickles you.

from an outsiders point of view? this is harmless. but your boyfriend is mean and the biggest asshole in the world because he knows all of your weak spots and the places he knows will have you shaking and gasping for breath. it felt like actually torture, really.

“thought you could get away with it, huh ?” he sneers, leaning down a bit more so he’s eye level with you “thought you could keep taking my shit and i’d just neeever find out, hm ? yeah ?”

“b-but i—ah ! didn’t—!” you gasp and squeal, choking on the sentences you can’t manage to push out of your throat as your eyes squeeze closed. you don’t have to see his face to know he’s enjoying this.

“you’re a fuckin’ thief.” he spits, backing up from you so you don’t headbutt him square in the nose from your thrashing. you’re response is nothing but a harsh gasp and he smirks wider.

you think he’s finally, finally taken pity on you when his fingers slow to a stop, but he glares down at you, hands still on either sides of you “say it.”

you can’t even catch your breath before he hurriedly pressed closer to your sides to scare you, you shriek “stop ! m’sorry !”

“not what i wanted you to say, try again.”

“you’re—” you take a breath “sucha”

his fingers graze your shirt and his eyes are wide, daring you to finish your sentence, you bring your hands up to try to hide his field of vision.

“OKAY ! okay, okay…” you slowly lower your hands away, finally dropping them at your sides with a sigh “m’ a thief…” you mumble in defeat, embarrassment creeping up on you not only from the fact that you got caught but that the blond above you clearly enjoyed your torture if the evil snickers you heard we’re any sign of that.

he hums in satisfaction “mhm, no good fuckin’ thief. should lock you up and throw away the key on your ass.” you hate how handsome he looks when he’s playful like this with you. your sides still hurt and your voice is croaky from how out of breath you were and for a moment you seriously thought you saw the pearly gates.

you pout, and all it does is make him smile wider.

your boyfriend is mean. and the biggest asshole in the entire fucking world.

“s’not my fault..your clothes are comfy.” you mumble, crossing your arms over your chest. “and they smell good.”

he scoffs, leaning down closer towards you “that’s cus i fuckin’ wash them. and i haven’t been able to lately cus someone’s been stealing my entire closet.”

“i didn’t !”

“was boutta make me walk around naked, ya moron. all my clothes are gone.” you roll your eyes, he never lacked in the dramatics department.

“you’re such a drama queen.” you whine, sinking into his comforter. he ignores you and he presses your cheeks together with one hand, chuckling at your smooched cheeks and furrowed brows.

“stop stealing my stuff.” he announces slowly. he’s clear, no way you could’ve misunderstood him anyway. he sighs and presses a quick peck to your lips still pressed together

“if you want one of my sweaters r’something, jus’ come ask me. can give you one..or whatever.” he finishes, voice slightly muffled in embarrassment as he shoves his mouth against yours again and again making wet kissing sounds and you manage a giggle. he rolls his eyes, but a smile slowly crawls up his face anyway as he releases your cheeks. you let out a happy sigh, opening and closing your mouth to get rid of the slight soreness.

“take this shit off though.” he tugs at the hoodie you’re wearing “stinks. need to put it in the wash.”

“no it doesn’t !” you protest, pressing the color against your nose in an attempt to keep it close to you “it smells like you!” you pout. he doesn’t respond for a bit, opting to squint at you while the tips of his ears turned pink. and in a second his snatched the bottom of it and ripped it off of you, ripping a pathetic scream from you.

he examined his hoodie with an unreadable expression before his eyes land back on you for a second, then he slowly starts folding up his sweater “you trynna say i stink ?” he says lowly.

“no. i wouldn’t wear your clothes if they were nasty” you scrunch up your nose “you can take back the sweater in my room, though. the smell is starting to wear off.”

“gee, thanks for offering to give me my sweater back. weirdo” he glares, spitting his words out sarcastically and you giggle at his extra emphasis on his ownership of the hoodie which earns you a huff.

“ i’m grabbing all the shit you took from me, and they stay with me.” he starts warningly “but you can keep this, i guess..” he adds, patting on his now folded hoodie ready for a cleaning. you smile happily, running your socked feet into his blankets.

“ oh, but don’t forget to wear it first after you washed it, want it to smell like you. otherwise there’s no point.”

“you really are a fucking weirdo.” he spits, but the way his cheeks burn bright red say he’s not truly mad about it. you laugh, and katsuki grumbles. “hope you learned your lesson, freak.” he taunts. you hum in fake thought, then release a sigh.

“yeah, i guess i did.” you concede, and he nods proudly.

and sure, yeah, you’re boyfriend’s a big meanie. but you do a great job at riling him up.

“for now.”