#this is TOO MOTHERFUCKIN MANY

[chuuyanakaahara]

no i. i need you guys to understand. i have. a lot to write. i have so much in my to-write list. it's all bsd. just off of the "unwritten" sheet instead of the in-progress ones too, lets list:

against faith (anti-hero)

beyond a doubt

birds in bloom

savior in secrecy

the world won't be kind, but neither will you

chuuya nakahara & the case of the lovestruck subordinates

girl's night out my heart lies in your nightmare

to hunt a saint

wasted time

answered prayer makes no miracle

i owe you (a thousand apologies)

no skin off my back

pitcher's proposal

return to sender

teach me a love song

angel slayer

corruption bringer

demon summoner

heaven's gate

demo-track confessional

no sweeter sins

hit the ignition

little white lines

retirement blues

serenity in change

the babysitter's club

the crash course of parenting

they'll put liar on your grave

wimpiest in the east

out on first base

yokohama's lost generation

letters to the dead

mirror mirror

one by one

the ghost of childhood

may death find you dear

the nightmare formula

thin hearts, thick walls

third-strike confessions

the farewell tour

the prince of calamity

[empoleon]

stranger things have happened

• rated m, one shot, 3088 words

• also available to read here

Wolfwood is humming something against the fabric of Vash’s shirt—his shirt, because Vash has taken to wearing his articles of clothing as of late—when Vash speaks up.

“They like that,” he says softly, tilting his head back with a smile.

Wolfwood pauses, lips ghosting a kiss near the spot where he was singing. “’S just something I heard a long time ago.”

From the orphanage, but it goes unspoken. Vash is fairly certain it’s in Wolfwood’s mother tongue as well, but he doesn’t comment on it—bringing that up now would probably embarrass him enough to stop and Vash certainly doesn’t want that.

They're in bed together at some rundown inn—traveling too much with Vash in his current state puts a bit of a strain on both of them, so it’s easier if they make frequent stops. They just need to be careful. They have to be careful.

Wolfwood would never forgive himself if something happened to—

It’s almost unnerving to feel the faintest movement touch the skin of his cheek, stopping his train of thought immediately. It’s such a brief feeling and he almost questions if it actually happened, but Vash beats him to it.

“Nick, did you—?”

“Yeah,” Wolfwood glances up at him, unable to hide the awe in his voice. “He moved.”

 .

 150 years. A century and a half, and Vash did not know about this. 

To be fair, there is a lot about himself that he isn’t aware of, either purposely brushing it off as a one-off occurrence or simply refusing to acknowledge it. 

Plant anatomy wasn’t something he was keen to learn about. He understood his basic, primal needs and that was that. 

Humans, on the other hand…

Cross-species breeding simply never came to mind. And even if it did, Vash was far too busy enjoying the feeling of Wolfwood on top of him, holding him close, whispering things he longed to hear—knowing that each spoken word was true—he loves you, all of you, every single piece of your being, every scar and blemish branded from God himself.

(He loves you.)

 .

 “Oi, blondie—you want to tell me why you dragged me out here again?”

The dim lighting in the old saloon feels suitable at this moment, one of the lights flickering idly. It’s noisy, overcrowded and Vash almost reconsiders his priorities. 

“How ’bout a drink first?”

It’s not something Wolfwood refuses, but he eyes the glass of water that is placed on their shared table. It’s murky in color, with a few specks of dirt swirling around, but it’s better than what they have seen in the previous towns. 

Wolfwood grabs his own glass, filled with a smooth amber tinge. “So,” he takes a swig and licks his lips. “What’s wrong?”

Vash wants to laugh. Leave it to Wolfwood to get straight to the point. 

“Nothing! Well, mostly nothing,“ Vash gives him a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You know how it is.”

Except Wolfwood doesn’t know, with the way Vash keeps skirting around the topic at hand. 

The alcohol in his system is beginning to warm him up, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think Vash is about to say something unimaginable. It worries him.

There’s a ruckus outside the saloon that quickly enters through the double swing doors, men shouting unintelligible things—words like ‘bounty’ and ‘where is he?’ are all that Wolfwood needs to hear before he downs the rest of his drink and roughly grabs Vash by the arm. 

“Hey, wait—I didn’t get to finish my drink!” Vash whines dramatically as he stumbles to his feet. One of the men arguing with another patron glances over towards them and Wolfwood curses.

“Damn it! Will you shut it?” He swivels around and pulls Vash into a corner of the saloon, trying to obscure the view of the humanoid typhoon from any onlookers. Miraculously, it works.

The commotion dies down after the barkeep threatens to drain the tap and close up for the evening. Those who initially caused the uproar either slip back out into the night or decide it’s time for a drink.

Vash really wishes he could have one right now, too. The water on the table may not taste great, but his throat has never felt so dry.

His arms find their way around Wolfwood’s waist, and he holds him there for a moment, in the corner of that saloon. The lights flicker again.

“I need to talk to you.”

 .

 “Guess he likes my voice,” Wolfwood smooths a hand against the swell of Vash’s belly. 

“He?” Vash can’t hide the curiosity in his voice at the word, raising an eyebrow. “What makes you so sure?” 

“Spikey, there is absolutely no way in hell you’re giving me a daughter,” Wolfwood states it so seriously that Vash starts to laugh. “I mean it. My heart won’t be able to take it.” 

 .

 When he finally manages to tell Wolfwood what has been ailing him, he isn’t entirely sure what to expect, reaction wise.

Yelling or swearing? An average response, perhaps the best possible outcome, especially when it comes to the man Vash has known for so many years now. Calling him names falls under this category as well.

What he didn’t expect was the silence, or Wolfwood’s cigarette falling out of his mouth a second later. 

“You’re—”

Vash nods, unable to say anything else. It’s hard to meet those dark eyes that are glued to his body.

“And it’s…” Wolfwood trails off, motioning to himself.

Another nod. 

There’s a long pause before everything goes back to normal—whatever that actually is, Vash isn’t certain, but it feels like he can breathe again once Wolfwood regains his senses and finally says more than a few words.

“I thought you said we didn’t need to use condoms!” Wolfwood exclaims. “I asked you three times!”

Three separate times, in fact. Vash groans and runs a hand through his hair. “I mean, we don’t need to—we’ve never had—I didn’t think this was possible,” he settles on saying, because it’s true. 

This was purely impossible, and yet somehow, after 150 years, his body finally decided it was time. 

“With how often we fuck, I’m surprised this didn’t happen sooner,” Wolfwood mutters. 

He’s not wrong, as embarrassing as it is to think about it.

“So…” Vash wrings his hands together, eyes flickering between Wolfwood and the cigarette that has long since been forgotten on the ground. He moves his boot to step on it, putting it out. 

“So,” Wolfwood parrots, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Are you okay? With all of this, I mean.”

“Me?” Vash blinks, confused. “I guess so, I was mostly worried about—”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before Wolfwood reaches over and pulls Vash into an embrace.

“Save it, blondie,” he says quietly. “You and I both know I’m fine with kids.” Wolfwood is also not wrong about that. 

“That’s not what I asked you.”

Are you okay with this? Is this what you want?

“I—yeah,” Vash lets out a shaky breath. “I really am.” He wraps his arms around Wolfwood’s neck and buries his face into his shoulder. “Thank you, Nick.”

For everything.

 .

 A daughter… she would look just like you, Nick, Vash thinks to himself while Wolfwood continues to argue with him—with their child. And she would act like you, too.

“I don’t need two needle-noggins in my life,” he says sternly, but there’s a hint of amusement in his voice. “So please inherit some damn common sense—”

“I have plenty of common sense,” Vash interrupts him. “For example—”

Wolfwood scoots his hand up underneath Vash’s t-shirt and squeezes the warm skin of Vash’s hip with a rough hand, eliciting a yelp out of him.

“Don’t say another word,” he grumbles, “unless you want me to knock more of that so-called sense into you.”

Vash’s smile is everything devious in nature. “I would love to see you try.”

 .

 The first time Wolfwood sees just how different Vash is as far as humans go, he’s equal parts aroused and surprised.

“You really weren’t kidding,” he says while trailing a finger across the inner part of Vash’s upper thigh, tracing a scar that mars the skin there. It stops just short of what he could only describe as thin, petal-like folds, tightly wound and—quivering? “This is pretty freaky, spikey.”

“Don’t tease me,” Vash all but huffs as his body is out on display for him. One too many drinks later and they find themselves in yet another unfamiliar, yet all too recognizable inn bedroom. 

It was easy for both of them to make it to this point—they always, always do, but this time it is different. It’s edging closer to something that neither one of them can turn away from.

Wolfwood grins at him. “Oh, I’m just getting started.”

 “Can you—y-yes, right there,” Vash’s calves tighten around Wolfwood’s shoulders instinctively, hands gripping the bed sheets beneath him. 

“Easy, Vash,” Wolfwood is a little breathless when he pulls back, a hand trailing along the metal of his prosthetic. “Digging into my neck a bit there.”

Vash almost immediately tries to sit up, looking extremely concerned. “Shit, I’m so sorry—”

Wolfwood carefully presses a hand to Vash’s lower abdomen, stopping him. “It’s fine, sweetheart,” he licks his lips. “Lie back down.”

His legs loosen a bit, this time more mindful of Wolfwood’s fleshy shoulders. Vash had insisted on leaving his prosthetics on, enjoying being able to anchor himself against his lover. 

Wolfwood continues where he left off, nose brushing the inner, wetter petals that are waiting for him, taking in Vash’s scent with a soft inhale. 

He flicks his tongue across them, watching as they unfurl and invite him into something far greater. 

“Nick—” Vash arches his back with a groan. “More, I��”

“More what?” Wolfwood murmurs it against the opening of his slit, lips finding their way around the swell of a small bud that is nestled between it. “Full sentences.”

“More, please,” Vash’s voice trembles, “Don’t fucking stop.”

“Language, sweetheart,” Wolfwood presses a kiss to the bud, nips at it gently with his teeth and proceeds to curl his tongue around it. 

He sucks long and slow, far too slow for Vash’s liking, evident in the way he hears another groan come from him. 

Vash’s hand reaches for Wolfwood’s hair, tugging as he rocks his hips closer.

“Oh, Nick,” he gasps this time and Wolfwood is certain that he’s close, noticing how the room begins to glow a touch brighter. 

Seeing those intricate patterns spark to life across various parts of Vash’s body ignites something truly deep within Wolfwood, far deeper than any spoken word of some higher being he could imagine.

They dance across scarred legs, skipping over pieces of well worn beryl-infused metal, trailing up Vash’s torso, his neck—

Vash shudders when he comes, fingers flexing into Wolfwood’s hair, purposefully forcing the man to stay put between his legs.

Not that Wolfwood would have ever minded.

He laps up everything that Vash gives to him and tries to coax out even more with his mouth, relishing the sweet taste that hits his tongue. 

“Still with me, darlin’?” Wolfwood breaks away from him with a quiet gasp. He brings a hand up to his lips and wipes at it, grinning. 

“Uh-huh,” is the only coherent response he gets, Vash’s body going limp with bliss. “’S good, Nick, you’re so good.”

“Preaching to the choir, I see,” Wolfwood runs a hand up Vash’s thigh, tracing along the intricate plant markings and noting how they shimmer brighter with each touch. “Let’s see what else that pretty mouth of yours can do.”

 .

 “How did the appointment go?” Wolfwood eventually asks, moving up to settle beside Vash. “Did Brad ask about—”

“The feathers,” Vash nods and sighs quite dramatically. “It was going so well, too, but then I sneezed and everything just,” he lifted up both his hands and spread his fingers, metal and flesh flexing wide, “Exploded?”

“Exploded?” Wolfwood can’t help but laugh. “Our child is already a menace, I can't believe it.”

One morning Vash had awoken to small, downy feathers attempting to sprout from his shoulders and forearm—the last time that happened, any time that happened, actually, was when they—

Well. Vash definitely didn’t relay that information to Brad, but he didn’t try to hide any of his bodily changes when he went for his most recent checkup. 

Luida suspected it had something to do with the pregnancy—that energy, a life, now being constantly generated from within him. He was bound to have some… interesting side effects.

“I couldn’t believe it,” Vash says after a moment. “You should’ve seen the look on Brad's face when it happened though, or the room,” he pauses and glances at Wolfwood with a smile. “Completely covered in feathers.”

Wolfwood snakes an arm across Vash’s chest, moving to rest his head on his shoulder. “Bet he loved that,” he closes his eyes. “Glad everything went smoothly, blondie. I should be able to come next time.”

Vash turns his head and presses a kiss to Wolfwood’s hair. “Luida would like that. She’s been dying to see you again, you know.”

“More like dying to have someone help out around the ship,” Wolfwood sighs, but there’s no malice in his tone. “Say, next time we visit…” he lowers his hand down Vash’s chest, stopping pointedly at his stomach. “They’ll be able to tell us what the little sprout is, yeah?”

Vash’s small intake of breath doesn’t go by unnoticed and it causes Wolfwood to sit up, getting a better look at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Well—” Vash starts to say, but closes his mouth promptly. 

“Wait,” Wolfwood reaches over to the side of the bed and suddenly the room is illuminated by the warm glow from the lamp. “Vash, don’t tell me you—” he glances back over at him and studies his face for a moment in silence. Vash desperately wishes Wolfwood wasn’t so damn good at reading him for once. 

“You already know, don’t you?” 

Vash groans and brings a hand up to his face. “It was an accident, Luida brought it up before I could stop her. I’m so sorry, Nick.” 

Wolfwood exhales and slumps back against the pillows. “Unbelievable.”

Vash attempts to roll over to face him, being on his back for so long starting to become a bit uncomfortable. “Nick?”

Silence. 

“Nicholas,” Vash pouts—he definitely has no right to do so, but he can’t help it. “I can just tell you, would that make it better?”

“No,” Wolfwood sighs. “I still want it to be a surprise.”

“I can act surprised when she tells us!” Vash says with enthusiasm. Wolfwood gives him a withering look. “No? Okay, okay,” he frowns, “it was worth a shot, though.”

“You are a complete needle-noggin idiot, you know that?” Wolfwood reaches over to flick Vash’s head. “And… it’s all right, don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes,” Wolfwood stresses the fact with a poke to Vash’s cheek. “I can wait a few more weeks. You better not bring it up on accident, though, or else—”

“I won’t! I promise, scout’s honor!”

 .

 Wolfwood is a lazy kisser—Vash used to tease him for it, but it wasn’t as though he was much better—or had any practice.

And they really did have the time now for these sorts of things.

He sighs as Wolfwood peppers a trail of kisses up his chest, taking his time with each scar and meld of flesh and metal his lips come past. 

“Nicholas,” Vash’s voice is light, full of warmth. “I thought you said— oh!”

Wolfwood captured his mouth with ease, stopping whatever teasing comment that was about to be said. 

His lips are chapped, but still somehow soft, warm—Vash has half a mind to point that out, but Wolfwood won’t allow it with the way his mouth is working. 

Vash gives in and sighs into the kiss, tugs him closer, prosthetic fingers raking through Wolfwood’s hair. It’s enough of an incentive to keep going, by any means. 

Even if there is shouting outside the inn bedroom’s window, or the ringing of a few gunshots sounding off in the lingering desert air. 

Vash breaks the kiss to turn his head, ignoring how Wolfwood sets his aim for his throat.

“Should we go—mmh,” Vash tries to suppress a moan, unsuccessfully, “check that out?” 

Wolfwood pauses, lips lingering near Vash’s collarbone. “During the middle of this?” 

He has a point. 

And to further express said point, Wolfwood slowly rocks his hips along Vash’s thighs.

“You’re right,” and Vash can’t believe he’s saying it with a smile on his face, one that Wolfwood can’t see from this angle, but knows that the man can feel. 

The whole room is lighting up, after all.

“It can wait,” Vash decides, and Wolfwood takes him.

 .

 One minute of silence passes between them, and then two. 

“Okay, I can’t do this,” Wolfwood rolls over to face Vash. “’M not going to be able to sleep unless I know.”

Vash is unable to restrain himself from laughing. “Really? Surely there’s something in your good book about rewarding patience.”

“Always be humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love,” Wolfwood recalls the passage in a low voice. “I think I’ve been pretty gentle lately, all things considered.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Vash agrees, amused. “Not so humble, though. Might need some brushing up on that.”

Wolfwood slides a bit closer to Vash. “Good thing we’ll have some down time for the next couple of months then—I could use some practice.”

“I happen to know an excellent teacher,” Vash says. He feels Wolfwood snake an arm across underneath the blankets, reaching for his shoulder to pull Vash in an embrace. 

“If you say Brad, I swear to fucking God—”

Vash’s huff of laughter is the only response Wolfwood gets before a pale hand beckons him closer. 

Even in the now-quiet of the room, Vash’s whisper to his ear is perhaps the softest thing Wolfwood has heard in a very long time. 

He can’t help his too sudden reply, his own voice on the verge of cracking. “Really?”

Vash nods. “Yes, really.”

And if Wolfwood hid his face in the crook of Vash’s neck, eyes filled with a dampness that threatened to spill over and unable to say anything else except a murmured ‘thank you’—

It was enough. 

[starkeyisthelastname]

thank you to my stunning babe @starkeysprincess for this idea! 😻 riding dealer!rafe while wearing his chain. 🥶

Rafe had many different chains, from silver cuban links, to solid gold rope chains. All expensive and all taken care of. Your favorite one though was the diamond one, the one he wore usually only for special outings or occasions. He had taken you to dinner, dining you with a pricy meal and too many glasses of Dom Perignon.

The flick of a lighter could be heard along with the sounds of your whimpers as you slid down onto his dick. Your manicured hands set perfectly on his toned chest, glittering diamond chain of his resting on your smooth neck. Your hazy eyes watched as he took a hit of the joint, inhaling the smoke as he rested his head against the headboard. His blue eyes were hooded, already high from smoking earlier and a little tipsy from his own choice of drink at dinner. One hand came to rest on the curve of your hip, a cloud of smoke hitting your face as you began to slowly bounce yourself on his thickness.

“Shit… so motherfuckin pretty wearing daddy’s chain…” Rafe’s sexy voice rasped out, glassy cerulean irises raking over your face and down to the sparkly jewels around the neck he wanted to wrap his hand around.

You moaned louder, loving when he called you pretty when you take dick. He filled you up to the point where it was hard to move, his length thick and long. You wanted to make daddy proud though, and began moving your hips the best you could all with a little encouragement from him.

“Fuck yeah, there you go mama. Make that shit bounce for daddy.” Rafe’s voice mumbled as he inhaled another hit of the joint, eyes focused on your pretty tits and round ass as they jiggled.

“Daddy… you feel so good.” You mewled, feeling him in your tummy as this position had him in deep. It didn’t help that the man you were riding was too damn sexy for his own good.

Rafe took another drag of the joint, before leaning over to put it out to leave him with two free hands. The other one then slapped your ass, before coming to rest on your hip, giving it a squeeze. “Yeah? Daddy’s big dick making that tight little pretty hole wanna make a mess?” He husked out, always having a thing for dirty talk to make you go over the edge.

Your body shuddered at his words, cunt fluttering around his monster as he began to thrust up into you, all while admiring how gorgeous you were wearing that chain of his that cost him several racks.

[ktownshizzle]

Terms & Conditions | Chapter 1

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

Summary: Managing Min Yoongi as one of your encoders during his alternative military service should’ve been simple. He is quiet, punctual—and can apparently type as fast as he can rap! Not to mention the fact that he is easy on the eyes and keeps wanting to help you. You’ve signed an iron-clad NDA, detailing the full terms and conditions of his temporary employment, so you’re supposed to keep things professional, but what happens if neither of you wants to?

Genre: Fluff, eventual smut, co-workers to lovers, office romance, idol!au

Warnings: Purely speculative regarding Yoongi’s alternative military service and how this is really done in SK, I might include scootergate in a future chapter but please know it will be written sensibly imo and with so much love for our Yoongi (I just wanna protecc him at all costs even thru this silly story!), some cursing, boss/employee relationship sorta but there's no power play involved, reader and Yoongi are within the same age range, tbh nothing too bad in this chapter

Word count: 6.3k hehe (approx. 25 mins to read)

Posting date: October 9, 2024

Notes: So it’s my birthday, y'all. 🎂 Hope you enjoy this little treat! 🎈And let me know if anyone wants to be tagged for future chapters. Just leave a comment. Formatting this better soon, really just wanted to get this out!

Your first meeting with Min Yoongi goes exactly as you expected: awkward as hell.

The day kicked off with some solid foreshadowing. 

On the subway, you somehow managed to sit directly on someone’s hand, giving yourself a completely unsolicited grope for breakfast. Awkward. 

Then you hit your usual café, chatting with your mom on the phone while waiting for your drink. Just as the barista handed over your order, you wrapped up the call with a bright and cheery “love you!”—only to realize too late that the barista thought it was meant for him. Awkward.

Things only got weirder from there. As you checked your emails on your phone, you walked straight into a pole, and you made eye contact with a cat who just looked at you, tail swaying, like it was somehow pleased with your suffering.

So naturally, you hoped that your first day with Min Yoongi wouldn’t follow the same cursed trend. But, of course, you weren’t that lucky.

You can feel the office buzzing with excitement as you step in, but you’ve all been told to keep it low-key. Nobody is allowed to make a big deal about him, but in some ways, that just makes it an even bigger deal. You’ve refrained from searching his name on Naver. It’s enough that you know him as 1/7 of South Korea’s biggest boyband. You don’t need to stalk him because that’s just gonna make this weird.

Speaking of weird, the female security guard gives you a wink as you clock in, and you return with a simple nod back, because honestly you’re tired of being treated like you wanted this. Like you asked for this “opportunity”. Some of the girls have called you the "blessed one" to have been chosen to work alongside him in your small, shoebox office. Truthfully, you don’t really care as long as he gets the job done.

But you're feeling scared for many reasons you can’t quite express, the pressure mostly coming from the fact that every fucking person in this office is so motherfuckin’ wet for this dude. Is he even that hot? Nobody is that hot for real. Unless it’s Cha Eun Woo (you just picked up the new Vogue issue and ooof)–now that is a different story.

Your throat is dry as hell, and your stomach is in knots. There’s no time to freak out though as you just received a ping that he’s on his way. 

You clear your throat, adjust your stance, and try to appear composed and professional, despite the fact that your insides are churning. You spot your tiny plastic garbage can on the corner of the room, in case you need to hurl, but the garbage lady forgot to line it again for fuck’s sake.

You pull your knit sweater down to cover the tiny belt that holds your linen pants, the only thing holding something together in this room, ‘cos you are actually spiraling–kind of?

Fuck he’s here.

The doors to your office open, making the little wind chime you hung there tinkle, and you spot the top of his head from behind the pudgy middle-aged guy that walks in front of him—your boss. Two men flank him, one of them you know as someone from his company, because he was the one doling out NDAs the other day like how they do beef jerky samples in the supermarket. The other, more buff guy, his bodyguard, most likely. Until you know their real names, you’ll call them Beef Jerky and Beefy.

Okay, focus.

Min Yoongi finally steps into your line of vision. 

Dressed in his military uniform, he was quiet, unassuming, expression unreadable. His eyes were pretty sharp, a bit intimidating, like he was thinking about something more important than whatever this is. His hair was a bit messy in the front, but somehow it worked for him. He wasn’t huge or anything, just lean and kinda laid-back, with this easy posture that made it seem like he didn’t really care who was looking. Honestly, nothing too special. 

But then, there was his aura, something you couldn’t quite ignore. It wasn’t flashy or loud, but there was this energy about him, like the room shifted just a little when he walked in. He didn’t have to say a damn thing, yet somehow, you found yourself aware of him. It wasn’t just his looks. It was the way he carried himself, calm and confident, like he didn’t need to prove anything. Must be nice to be rich and powerful…

“Miss?” Beef Jerky leans to his side to get into your sightline.

Shit, what did he say? Anyway, you shake your head, and proceed to just introduce yourself.

“Hello, I’m the manager,” you bow, perhaps too stiffly. “I’ll be overseeing your work during your service here.”

He bows politely, too, eyes briefly meeting yours before looking away. “I’m Min Yoongi, pleasure to meet you,” he says in a tone that feels blunt, almost rehearsed.

Your boss Hyun-woo, who you recently found out is his distant uncle, stands beside him, clapping his shoulder. “You are in good hands here, Yoongi. She’s my best, most trusted employee in this entire office.”

You blush at the compliment, feeling a wave of self-consciousness as you struggle to make the interaction less awkward. You close your fists willing yourself to get a fuckin’ grip.

“I will leave you both to get acquainted.”

Your boss along with the two individuals leave the room. The door closes with a soft click.

Annoyingly, something is stuck in your throat and you clear it with a quick sip from this comically huge-sized tumbler your roommate got for you when you had a pesky bout of UTI last year.

“I’ve, uh, prepared your tasks for today.” You gesture to his desk, quickly pulling up the list of assignments on your tablet. You show him his username and password scribbled on a post-it by the monitor. He picks it up and inspects it. You spend time explaining the basics of the work here. Word processing. Nothing to it really. It’s about efficiency, accuracy, and confidentiality, because of the many private government records that you handle day to day.

“Do you have any questions?”

Crickets.

The office feels larger now, the silence between you echoing awkwardly. “Ooo-kay. If you don’t have any questions, that’s fine. But don’t hesitate to ask if there’s anything I can help you with,” you add, hoping to sound approachable but instead sounding robotic, like an email sign off. You wince inwardly.

He just nods again, offering nothing more. He sits and picks up the paper on the top of the file. You guess that’s your cue to leave. And by leave, you mean round his table so you can sit on yours, the one across from him.

You walk back with this weird stutter in your chest. For a moment, you wonder if he finds you too formal. It’s not like you’re trying to be intimidating, but professionalism has been your go-to ever since the promotion. And it’s not like you need to wow him with your personality, so you can become fast friends. If the NDA you signed was to be taken to heart, it would be better to not establish any form of relationship with him outside of team lead and team member, what with the exorbitant number of potential violations and potential fines for breaking it.

When his keyboard starts clickety-clacking, dread sinks in your stomach that it’s going to be like this every day—strictly business, no small talk, no casual exchanges. You’re not the most sociable person, but once in a while, you do appreciate a bit of interaction. You sigh internally, returning to your own tasks, trying not to overthink the situation anymore. For now, at least.

Throughout the morning, you cannot help but steal glances at him. Damn, what skin care does he use? He literally looks radiant, like he’s glowing from within. Fuck, you have to look away because this is precisely why they trusted you to take him under your wing. You are a consummate professional, not a creep like the girls from accounting, especially trampy Danbi. You chalk it to unfamiliarity and curiosity, which you know you will quickly overcome. But for now you cut yourself some slack. Obviously, there was a legit celebrity in the room, and he seems to radiate some undeniable aura. It also feels strange to have someone else in this tiny office that you’ve occupied alone for so long.

Honestly, you’re still baffled as to why he was assigned to you, specifically. Well, that’s not entirely true. You know it’s because Hyun-woo has blind trust in you, having seen you as one of his go-to employees. Truth be told, you think he treats you like a niece. Is that weird? Maybe. He lets you assist some of the other artists who’ve come through for personal or one-time projects and you have always delivered for him, never engaging in any office gossip.

But still, you can’t shake the feeling of frustration. Why did this have to happen to you? You just got your promotion and were so excited to mentor someone, to be that “cool boss” you always envisioned. But now you’re stuck with this temp—who’s really not a temp but a world-renowned idol. It’s all so awkward.

Once in a while you catch him yawning, so in a desperate bid to cut through the tension, you ask, “Um, do you like coffee?”

He shifts to sit straighter. “Nah, I’m good. Thank you.” he responds, quickly looking your way and training his eyes back to the screen, hands typing away.

You nod, feeling slightly deflated. “Right. Got it.” 

The day drags on, and you can’t shake off the feeling of being an over-eager manager trying too hard. 

Within the first week, you discover very quickly that Yoongi is all about business. He is just here to finish his service as discreetly as possible. He clocks in on time, disappears for an hour for breaks, and clocks out on time as well. You don’t know where he disappears during those breaks, but you suspect in Hyun-woo’s office to get more privacy. He barely speaks to you. He greets you with a small bow in the morning and responds with a grunt or a hum. It’s all very… whatever. It is what it is, so you stop trying to be anything but his boring manager. You hand him his tasks every morning, check his output by EOD, like clockwork.

Unfortunately, it was one of those manic Mondays. The pile of documents grows faster than you can manage. Calls keep coming in, requests needing immediate attention, and your desk looks like the utter chaos that is the inside of your brain. You glance at Yoongi across from you—he’s focused, calm, completely unfazed by the sudden rush.

“Do you need help with that?” His voice startles you, low and soft. You honestly even forgot how it sounded, having little to no interaction everyday.

Before you can respond, he’s already pulling the spare chair from the corner and is at your side, sorting through the forms. His hands move with unexpected speed, and soon, the paperwork starts shrinking. You offer a weak smile, trying to appear professional. “Thanks. I wasn’t expecting today to be so hectic.”

He only nods in response, his focus entirely on the task at hand. You glance at him, noticing for the first time how sharp his features are up close—dark eyes, cute pointy nose, and freckles dusting some parts of his cheeks. His tongue, pink and moist, peeks out from the side of his lips as he concentrates. Ok, you need to look away RIGHT NOW.

You’re aware of the attraction most women probably feel for someone like him. Exhibit A—Danbi, who cornered you that morning in the toilet “for the scoop” and you’re sick of her. But if you’ll be honest, it’s hard not to notice that Yoongi indeed has a… pleasant face. But you are a professional. Yes, you are. This whole mysterious, brooding vibe is not going to get to you attracted to him in any way, shape, or form. You’re his manager. You signed those NDAs. Never mind that his lips are just the perfect shape, pouty, plush… and smirking.

Shit. He’s smirking because you’re caught.

You look away hastily and start opening some random file in your computer and pretend to be immersed reading it. In truth, you need some air, but it would be too damn obvious if you stepped away.

A few minutes pass in silence. You’ve quelled the initial onslaught of hormones and are back to work mode. You’re happy that he is so efficient and you smile as you get through the initial bulk of paperwork. You’re starting to relax, getting into the familiar groove of getting a file and processing it, until your fingers accidentally brush against his while reaching for the same folder. The touch is brief, but it sends a jolt through you, your heart stuttering in response. You glance up, half-expecting another awkward moment (because you can’t stop feeling like such a fool in front of him), but Yoongi remains composed, as he pulls his hand away and waits for you to take the document.

You do, but your pulse quickens. Just an accident, you tell yourself. He probably didn’t even notice. And if he did, he probably doesn’t care.

But now, as you continue working side by side, there’s an unspoken understanding. You realize, despite his quiet demeanor, he’s someone you can rely on, someone who won’t leave you stranded when things get tough. And that’s actually really nice. It’s what you wanted when Hyun-woo said you were going to have a team. Granted it’s just the two of you for now, but still, it’s nice to have a partner.

Later in the week, you find yourself in the break room, needing a coffee fix. There was a place down the street with cheap and good coffee, but unfortunately you didn’t have the time to pop in with so much work on your desk. So free and awful coffee it is today. 

You enter just in time to see Yoongi struggling with the coffee machine. You have never seen him anywhere else in the building apart from your office, so this was quite a surprise. 

“Need a hand?” you ask tentatively, stepping closer.

“I think I broke it,” he replies, hearing exasperation in his voice for the very first time. 

“Hang on, let me,” you unplug and plug the machine, fiddle with some of the buttons, waiting for it to sputter to life. 

You’re leaning against the counter, waiting for the coffee machine to wake up. You know it takes forever, but it’s too familiar at this point. Yoongi stands next to you, his usual quiet self, hands in his pockets. 

“I’ve timed it,” you say dryly, glancing at him. “Two minutes and forty seconds.”

He watches the machine as if expecting it to hurry up. “Been here for more than that.”

You smirk. “Maybe it’s on a break.”

He quirks an eyebrow, barely suppressing a smile. “I’ll try that excuse next time.”

You hand Yoongi his coffee, mumbles a thanks, and waits for you to finish yours before both of you settle into the break room’s small table. It’s past lunch, and you know neither of you have eaten, so you reach for the cold ham and cheese sandwiches stashed in the fridge. “Hope you don’t mind,” you say, sliding one across to him.

He looks at it for a moment before picking it up. “I’ve had worse.”

“High praise.”

He takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Could be worse. Could be that coffee.”

You raise your cup in mock agreement. “Fair point. Don’t even know why I drink this shit. I mean this thing.” You slap a hand over your mouth. Did you just curse in front of your subordinate? Government offices are a stickler for these things, being on the traditional side.

He chuckles at your shocked expression, and teases, “Isn’t that a code of conduct violation?”

You gnaw at your lip, suppressing the smile that wants to stretch out, but you fail. “It is. But you’re no snitch.”

He motions to zip his lips and throws an imaginary key over his shoulder. Dork.

The conversation lingers in that easy rhythm. You talk about the workload, the other departments, nothing too personal. You glance over at him, noticing how more at ease he seems, as if he’s getting used to being here—around you.

“How long have you worked here?” he leans back, stretching his arm out on the back of the chair beside him.

“Five years,” you respond, tapping the side of your lip with a napkin.

“Do you ever get tired of it?” he asks suddenly.

You blink, slightly taken aback by how blunt he is. You clarify, on guard, “Tired of what exactly?”

He gestures around. “The office. The routine.” He keeps his eyes trained on you, which is a rarity as he always seems to be looking at you but never directly like that. That’s when you knew his question was sincere. That he wasn’t trying to offend you, just trying to get to know you.

You shrug. “Sometimes. But it’s not that bad. Besides,” you smile wryly, “now I have someone to talk shit about this coffee and sandwich with.”

He chuckles, light and throaty, a sound that you realize is tickling something in your brain. “Guess we’re in this shit together now.”

You nod, feeling something warm settle in your chest. The wall between you is thinner now, not entirely gone but close enough to see past.

“Same time tomorrow?” you ask, half-joking, half-hopeful.

He raises an eyebrow, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “I have two years here. Hope the coffee machine doesn’t beat me to my discharge date.”

Two years. The thought makes you smile. You really don't mind spending that amount of time with him. In fact, it kinda made you a little happy.

As you step into your cozy apartment, the familiar scent of home hits you. Your roommate’s been cooking again, so it also smells like galbi jjim. Yummm.

Your place isn’t much—a small two-bedroom in Yongsan you’ve shared with Chae since Uni—but it’s got character. You both moved in when it was bare and bland, but with a little effort and a lot of creativity, you’ve turned it into something that actually feels like home. The furniture is mostly Scandi-style—clean lines, muted tones, and a lot of beige—but you’ve sprinkled in your own touches everywhere.

There’s that round white table you scored second hand, now always topped with whatever flowers Chae picks up from the market, and the rattan pendant light that casts this soft, cozy glow at night. The tiny kitchen still feels big enough when it’s just the two of you, with mismatched mugs stacked up and a bright orange pan hanging on the wall for no real reason other than it looks cool.

In the living room, a hybrid shelf is stuffed with books, vinyls, and random trinkets from all the places you’ve been. A Chinese lucky cat sculpture from that street market trip. A polaroid of you two drunk at noraebang, one of many others tucked under the glass coffee table. Trendy prints hang on the walls—well, some lean against the walls, because you’ve never gotten around to actually hanging them. It’s perfectly imperfect. It’s not much, but it’s home.

You hang your bag on the rack by the door and head to the kitchen, where Chae is stirring a pot, hips swaying to the music blaring from her phone. Of course, as she holds a silver spoon, she belts out the lyrics from the BTS song with the same title. And you only know this because she has made you watch some edits to this song that left an impression on you.

The thought of revealing this thing you’ve been holding out on her has your stomach in knots. But again, there’s an NDA involved, and you don’t want to violate anything. But just the same, you’re desperate to talk to someone about this strange new development in your life. You just hope you don’t regret risking your job by telling her.

“Hey, Chae!” you call out, and she turns, beaming at you. “How was work?”

“Busy as usual,” you reply, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. “But I have something to tell you.”

Her eyes sparkle with curiosity. “Ooh, do tell!”

You hesitate, but excitement spills out. “I have a new workmate. And you know him.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s one of my exes.”

“No, no.” You take a quick swig of water and twist its cover back in place.

“From Uni?”

You shake your head, water still swirling inside your mouth.

“Is it one of my weird cousins?”

You gulp. “What? No! Also we haven’t talked about why you gave one of them my number. He’s blowing up my Kakao.”

She cackles unapologetically, “Sorry, I need to get them off my back. So, are you going to tell me who this mysterious person is?”

You breathe out a sigh. “Min Yoongi from BTS.”

It’s like a bomb explodes in your roommate’s brain. She drops the spoon, and you wince at the clatter. “What?! No!”

“Yeah…”

“Don’t you even joke right now.”

“I’m not!”

“Are you serious???”

You nod, half-amused by her reaction. “Yeah, he’s assigned to my department for his service.”

“Min Yoongi?” she repeats, eyes wide, almost breathless. “You… I… Do you know how famous he is? He’s like a fuckin’ national treasure! He has a diplomatic passport and everything, keys to the White House… ”

You chuckle at her enthusiasm, but you can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement. “I mean, I guess? But I signed an NDA. I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

She pulls you to her room, and you follow, rolling your eyes. Her space is a shrine to Bangtan, shelves lined with albums, posters, and even plushies. You’ve never given her shit for it, because you also had an EXO phase, but you got rid of most of your stuff through ebay when you needed some extra money.

“Wait, you have to understand him!” she exclaims, rifling through her collection. “You need to learn about his music, his artistry. He’s incredible!”

“Honestly, he has an above average WPM, that’s all I need to know.”

“WPM?” she asks.

“Words per minute. He’s an encoder.”

She gives you a WTF look, then shoves her photocard album in your arms. 

“Open that,” she tells you before she flops on her bed with a wistful look. “What's he like? You have to tell me. I need to live vicariously through you.”

You can’t help but laugh at her excitement, flopping down on the bed next to her. “Well, he’s a quick study, very efficient, and also very reserved.”

“…and very hot?” she asks, winking.

“Chaeee!” you groan, burying your face on one of her plushies, the brown one. “I mean, he’s not… bad-looking.”

“Not bad-looking? Girl?! He is sexy as fuck!” she grabs the plush off of your face and you try to school your face to seriousness, but fail.

“I dunno. It’s just work.”

“Just work?!” she echoes again, eyes sparkling. “You’re working with a literal genius! Do you know how many girls would kill for this opportunity?”

Don’t you know it? Danbi and her crew are still up on your face everyday trying to get any morsel of information you’d be willing to throw their way. You sigh, but smile at her enthusiasm. “Alright, I’ll tell you more. But just remember: NDA.”

When your roommate seems satiated, she leaves you a trail of crumbs that unknowingly leads you to a rabbit hole. Two words, she said mysteriously, before you disappear into your room. “Agust D.”

That night, curiosity gets the better of you. You grab your laptop and fall down said rabbit hole, watching every Agust D music video, concert clip, and interview you can find. With each passing moment, you become more entranced, not just by the music, but by the man behind it. The raw passion in his lyrics, the confidence in his delivery—it really is quite… in Chae’s words: sexy af.

As the weeks progress, you have graduated from robotic nods to actual smiles. The greetings feel more familiar now, almost like you're becoming friends. 

You walk into the office, a small smile creeping onto your face as you see Yoongi already at his desk. He looks up and meets your gaze, returning the smile with a scratchy hello. The atmosphere feels lighter today, a far cry from your first awkward encounter.

“Ready for another exciting day of paperwork?” you tease, taking your seat.

“Dope,” he replies dryly, but there’s a playful glint in his eye.

Moments later, Yoongi’s head pops from the side of his monitor so that he’s in your view. “Uh, I have a bit of a problem with this file,” he says, brows furrowed with a hint of frustration in his tone.

You immediately jump into action, eager to help. “Let me take a look.”

As you move closer to his desk, you can’t help but notice the way his fingers move over the keyboard, veiny and strong. Images of him playing “Seesaw” on the guitar flood your mind. How can you unsee that?

You shake your head, trying to refocus. “Okay, let’s see…” But your brain keeps drifting, and you find yourself more distracted than ever. His mouth, and his deep voice, as he mumbles his troubles with the document, keeps pulling your attention. You try to push the thoughts away, frustration mounting.

“Is this the line you were talking about?” you ask, forcing yourself to concentrate on the screen.

“Yeah, that’s the one. I just can’t seem to make sense of it,” he replies, glancing at you.

“Let me just…” You lean closer, your heart racing as his shoulder brushes against yours. You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

How can you focus on work when all you can think about is this thing he does with his tongue. It feels impossible.

Yoongi watches you, an amused smile playing on his lips. “You look like you’re trying to solve a complex equation.”

“Honestly, I’m starting to think my brain is broken.”

Yoongi glances at you with a smirk. “If your brain is broken, then mine’s completely fried. I tried to make toast this morning and almost burnt my apartment down.”

You laugh. “Maybe you should stick to Uber eats.”

“Agreed. It’s safer for everyone involved,” he quips, his eyes sparkling with amusement, before it turns into something slightly more serious. “Not that there’s anyone else, umm, involved. I, uh, live alone, so…”

His comment makes you smile, and you can’t help but feel a rush of warmth at the way he stuttered the last bit out. You don’t know what to make of it, so you just left it at that. 

About to clock out, Yoongi stands from his desk, bag over his shoulder.

“You know, despite my toast incident, I’m actually a pretty great cook. That toast was a fluke,” he declares, his tone half-serious, like it has been bothering him for quite some time.

The way he looks worried that you may think he is terrible in the kitchen, is not lost on you. You raise an eyebrow, “Is that so?”

He shifts the bag on his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at you. “You don’t believe me.”

“Give me a taste then,” you say, biting your lip. You made it sound really suggestive, but you can’t take it back now. Not when he seems to get it, and he seems kind of into it.

He leans with a playful glint in his eyes, “Alright. I’ll bring kimchi jeon, but you also have to give me a taste.” he pauses, pushing his tongue on the inside of his cheek, before continuing. “Of your…”

“Pasta.” You say, cheeks warm, but voice steady. “Friday?”

He smirks, then he’s out the door.

You bury your face on your palms, smiling like a fool as your heart beats loudly in your chest. What the actual hell is happening?

It’s Friday afternoon, and the office is quieter than usual—most of the staff are already winding down, eager for the weekend. You glance at the clock, knowing it’s almost time for the little food showdown you’ve been looking forward to all week.

You and Yoongi walk together to the break room, both armed with your dishes. His kimchi jeon and your pasta. 

You warm your containers in the microwave before you settle down on a corner spot.

“I hope you’re ready to lose,” you tease, sliding the container of Carbonara across the table. Yoongi raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair with that infuriatingly calm smirk.

“You seem confident,” he replies, popping open the lid of his dish. The scent of kimchi fills the room, and you have to admit—it smells incredible.

“Smells good,” you say, trying not to let your surprise show.

“Of course it does. I told you I could cook.” He clips a piece of the jeon with his chopsticks and holds it out to you. “Try it.”

You lean forward, the chopsticks brushing against your lips as you take a bite. The flavors hit you immediately—spicy, savory, just the way you like it. You chew slowly, pretending to think it over even though you’re already sold.

“Not bad,” you admit, leaning back with a grin. “But it’s gonna take more than that to beat my pasta.”

Yoongi scoffs, but there’s amusement in his eyes as he picks up a fork and twirls it into your pasta. He takes a bite, and you watch him carefully, waiting for his reaction.

He chews, then pauses, glancing up at you through his lashes. “Alright… I have to admit,” he says, his tone casual but the look in his eyes a little too serious, “this is really good.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “That’s it? Just ‘really good?’”

He leans forward on his elbows, his gaze steady on yours. “Fine. It’s amazing,” he says, his voice softening just a bit, though there’s a teasing smile on his lips. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, it’s already there,” you quip, biting back a smile. 

Yoongi laughs, a sound that’s more relaxed than usual, and you catch the way his eyes linger on you just a little longer than necessary. “You know what? I’ll give you this one,” he concedes, sitting back with a defeated sigh, though the smile never leaves his face. “You win.”

You hoot, then immediately cover your mouth with your hands, remembering you are in your place of business.

He grins as he takes another bite of your Carbonara, forking pieces of bacon straight to his mouth. There’s something different in the way he’s looking at you now—something softer, like he’s seeing you in a way he hasn’t before. You are thrown for a loop. Maybe it’s the way he keeps sneaking glances at you between bites, or the quiet hum of satisfaction when he takes another forkful of your dish. Whatever it is, you want it and you like it.

You push your chair back, stretching your arms above your head as the day finally comes to a close. It’s been a long one, but productive—and surprisingly enjoyable. After sharing lunch with Yoongi earlier, things felt lighter, less awkward. Still, when you glance at the window, seeing the sheets of rain coming down hard, your shoulders sag slightly. It’s pouring, and you didn’t bring an umbrella.

As you slip on your parka after snapping the detachable hoodie on, Yoongi catches your eye, “You’re not planning to walk in this, are you?”

“I can take the subway,” you say quickly.

Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head as he shows you his keys. “Just let me give you a ride, it’s not a problem.”

You hesitate, but eventually, you sigh. “Okay, sure. Thanks.”

The two of you dash out into the rain, laughing softly as you both get soaked within seconds. By the time you’re in his car, your hair sticks to your forehead, and the chill of your wet clothes clings to your skin.

But you’re glad that you’re finally inside. He blasts the heater and the warmth is immediate, fogging the windows as the downpour intensifies. He fiddles with the stereo as you settle in, and Epik High’s "Born Hater" comes through his car speakers.

“Born hater!” You announce, and you catch yourself, embarrassed at the way you had to say the title of the song so emphatically.

“Cute,” Yoongi mumbles as he looks at you like he is actually endeared and you think you would catch fire despite being soaked.

“Ok hater, what’s one thing you hate?” He asks as he puts the gear on reverse.

The question is sudden, casual, and it throws you off for a moment. “What?” You laugh, furrowing your brow. “Like, what do you mean?”

He shrugs, his grip loose on the steering wheel. “Just one thing you hate. Something small. What’s something that drives you crazy?”

His arm moves behind your seat, while one hand takes the wheel and maneuvers the car seamlessly back out of the parking spot—and you don’t quite understand why you think that lone action is so sexy. It’s a miracle you’re still able to think and respond to his simple question. “Okay… I hate it when people chew with their mouth open.”

Yoongi chuckles, the sound low and warm. “Yeah, I’m guilty of that.”

“What about you?” you ask, feeling more at ease. “What’s something you hate?”

Without missing a beat, he grins. “Mushrooms. I can’t stand them.”

“Mushrooms?” You snicker. “What, like all of them?”

“All of them,” he says firmly. “They taste like dirt.”

“Wrong.” You shake your head, laughing. “They do not. You’re just picky.”

He turns to you, raising an eyebrow playfully. “Nope, I’m right. Name another thing.”

“Pickles,” you say.

“Get out of the car,” he deadpans and you both laugh.

“Not even on pizza? I actually can’t eat pizza without it.”

“Yeah, it’s still a no for me,” you say, rubbing your palms on your pants.

“Are you still cold?” He asks.

“A little,” you say, your damp clothes still causing a bit of a chill.

At the next stop light he reaches for something in the back seat and places a folded scarf of some sort on your lap. Grateful, you mutter a thanks as BIGBANG’s “Haru Haru” comes next.

You sigh, smelling his faint cologne on the garment, and melt in your seat as you pull the fabric over your shoulders, “I love this song…”

“Me too,” he says. “I listened to this song a lot when I was in high school.”

“Yeah, me too,” you share a smile before his eyes go back on the road as the green light comes. “What were you like in school?” you ask.

He raises an eyebrow, considering your question for a second. And his response was blunt, as he tends to be.  “Was a loser. Kept to myself. Worked on music when I could. School wasn’t really my thing.”

“Figures,” you tease.

He doesn’t glance at you, but there was an amused grin playing on his lips. “What about you? You look like a popular kid.”

“Oh, I was definitely a loser, too. Overachieving student who tried way too hard to please everyone,” you say with a self-deprecating laugh, looking at the pouring rain outside. “I always thought if I did everything right, I’d end up happy, but…”

“… but now?” Yoongi asks, tone softer than you’ve ever heard him before.

You hesitate, unsure why this feels like a deeper question than it should. But you wanted to give him some honesty. A tiny piece of you to hold on to if he wants. “Now… I don’t know. I’m still figuring it out, I guess.”

“You will,” he promises, glancing at you in the corner of his eyes and you meet his gaze with a shy smile.

“Thanks.”

Silence falls between you. The music fills the space as the rain lets up, and the streets blur outside the window. It feels like a moment—one you don’t want to think too hard about, because thinking too hard about anything with him feels dangerous.

He pulls up outside your apartment, the car coming to a smooth stop. You don’t move right away, letting the last bit of the song play out as you sit in the warmth of the car.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, finally unbuckling your seatbelt, but your voice feels quieter than usual.

“No problem.” His eyes meet yours for just a second, and it lingers—like there’s something else he wants to say, but doesn’t.

You step out into the cool night air, still feeling his gaze on you as you make your way to the door. When you glance back, Yoongi is still parked there, watching you, and just to lighten the mood you call out, "Bye, loser!" He shakes his head with a tiny grin, "Later, loser!" before he finally pulls away.

Your heart’s racing the whole way up the stairs, each step making it louder, faster, like it’s echoing off the walls. You enter your apartment and press a hand to your chest, trying to calm yourself down, but it’s useless—he’s been stuck in your head since you stepped out of the car. Hell, he's been there for days. You wonder if he could feel the headrush too, all the way from Hannam, where he went completely out of his way just to drop you off. 

What you don’t know is Yoongi, back in his apartment, though a little later, is doing the same—sitting there, trying to calm his pulse, still thinking about the long drive, and why he didn’t mind the distance. And as he lay awake in his large bed, smiling like a lunatic, replaying the moments of the day, he knew there really was only one reason:

He likes you.

A/N: What do you think??? I'm so excited for this series!!! Again, just leave a comment if you want to be tagged on the next chapters! Thank you so much for reading! ~k

Edit: Answer this story-related Poll

Chapter Two >

[macfrog]

birds of a feather | joel & ellie

y'all listen to the new billie eilish album? there's a song that reminded me of a couple of someones.

pairing: joel miller & ellie williams summary: joel surprises ellie on her sixteenth birthday. warnings: nada. just me loving hard on this pair. word count: 1.5k

main masterlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🤍

Oh, my god, it is a dinosaur.

She didn’t actually believe it would be. I mean, it was her first guess – but where the fuck is he going to find a dinosaur way the hell out here? She was kidding.

Wasn’t a convertible, wasn’t a puppy, wasn’t even a lotta kittens. A litter. Whatever. It wasn’t a new pair of sneakers, nor a comic book collection. She’d almost run out of ideas, when she spotted the tail through the bushes.

Is that–? Is he seeing this, too?

It’s, like, three times the size of her. No, wait – five times the size of her. Ten? She’s gotta ask Joel.

Two thick, stocky legs planted firm into the earth. Draped in ivy and spattered with moss – the thing actually looks prehistoric. Head lifted to the canopy; teeth bared in a silent roar. His little arms – alright, they’re actually kinda fuckin’ cute – frozen, reaching for something.

It’s right fucking there. Right in front of her. A motherfucking dinosaur.

Her hands fly to her head.

“Joel!” Ellie cries, and she can hardly feel her legs with giddiness.

Joel lingers a few steps behind her. He kicks a heel through the mucky grass, just watching. Smiling like an idiot, letting the ripples from the kid’s glee wash over him. It’s like the zoo all over again, or that time he found a Savage Starlight poster while out on patrol.

Ellie’s laughter is ticklish, vibrating through his veins. She pumps her fists and sizes up the monster. She says holy shit, Joel three times before she takes a step closer.

The sun trickles through the leaves, haloing over the Rex. It’s warm, but not too warm – and the swim on the way helped cool them down. It’s a bit of a hike to get here. He’s just glad it’s a nice day.

He was, truthfully, a little nervous about it. About bringing her here. He’s never had a sixteen-year-old to plan shit for. What if she didn’t like it? Hell, what if she thought it was fucking lame?

But Ellie wades waist-deep into the moat instantly. She pulls herself through the murky water straight to the plaque, and whips out her journal.

And Joel knows he’s fucking nailed it.

“King of the tyrant lizards,” she announces, making sure she gets the spelling right. Her tongue pokes from the corner of her mouth as she sketches.

Joel wanders over to her side, hand combing through the tangles of leaves drooping from the dinosaur’s belly. He swats fluttering flies away from his face.

The water sloshes around her feet as she rounds the tail. It’s slippery with slime. She crawls over threads and vines, soles scuffing up the spine.

“What are you doin’?” he asks, a chuckle patching over cracks of sudden fear.

“I’m climbing a dinosaur!” Ellie yells. She hesitates on the snout – though only for half a second, because fuck it, how many times am I going to jump off a motherfuckin’ dinosaur? – and then she’s plummeting.

Joel’s stomach flips. He staggers into the water, breath clamped in his throat until she resurfaces again.

She’s still wearing that dumb as shit smirk. It probably didn’t flinch, the entire fall. “Did you see that?” she gasps.

Jesus. Yeah, he saw it. He pulls a hand down his face.

It’s been a year, little less than. They’re used to it by now – the slow turn of life in Jackson. Breaking bread in the dinner hall, calling the woodland creatures by whichever ridiculous names Ellie christens them with.

It took a few weeks, but eventually, their heartrates settled. Their fists loosened. They relaxed into the quiet, found respite in the negative space.

Tommy joked for the first little while that Joel had a shadow he couldn’t shake. She’s five-three, red hair, and she carries a switchblade everywhere she goes. Following him close enough that she felt more like a phantom at his heels.

Joel never minded, and he still doesn’t. He’s long forgotten the feeling of being alone – as quickly as he acquired it, it seems. These days, he waits at his kitchen table for the kick of the backdoor, the slump of a still half-asleep teenager opposite him.

He wonders how he ever got by so long without it.

He leads Ellie into the museum.

Everything looks exactly how he left it. A jungle of a building; shattered glass and overgrown grass, a muggy smell lingering in every dim corner. The stuff he deliberately left for her to stumble upon when she got here: a Giants of the Past brochure, the stupid hat he knew she’d force him to wear.

A marshland wasteland, and she still sees the magic in every square inch.

She throws fact after fact at him. Fruit flies and moon landings, gunpowder and Yuri Gagarin. She knows a shit ton, if the stacks of books on her desk are anything to go by. And when Joel tells her how smart she is, Ellie smiles smugly to herself and thinks up ten more facts, just for him.

He thinks of her books and their awkwardly long titles, the faded pictures on all the covers. Astronauts and nebulas and faraway suns. He offers the one thing he remembers from school back at her: My very educated mother just served us nice pizzas.

She’s never even heard of it.

But she’s impressed, and she repeats it to herself as she explores some more. Turning back at every new artifact she finds, beckoning Joel over with a flapping hand.

He wanders after her, thinking up questions he’s sure he already knows the answers to – just so she can tell him again. Just to see her face light, to hear her ramble as she explains.

And nine times out of ten, she corrects him, anyway.

The space shuttle is spotlit under a dome roof, more ivy spilling over the top. A little heap of machinery, succumbed to the nature around it. They crank the door open together, and a springtime heat floods from the cockpit.

Joel stops Ellie from climbing in. “You’re goin’ into space,” he says, leaning on the warm metal. “You’re gonna need a helmet.”

Her eyebrows lift. “Oh, right. What was I thinking?”

They’re too big for her – all three helmets. They’re clunky and clumsy, the visors a little grubby and distorted. But she pulls one over her head and jogs back to Joel, hoisting herself into the shuttle.

It’s cramped inside; stifling even with the door wide open. Joel feels his back twinge as he settles into the seats. But he doesn’t mind, and neither does Ellie.

She flicks button after button, her elbow knocking against his. Explosion sounds rumbling from her lips. Her breath clouds the inside of her helmet.

He could lie here all day beside her. In this quiet corner of the world, where time stands still. Guarded by the Tyrannosaurus Rex out front. Just him and his kid, listening to her mimic engine noises and pretend to lift them both into space.

But he’s hellbent on timing it perfectly. So just as she sounds the roar of a seamless takeoff, he slips the tape from his chest pocket.

“Happy birthday, kiddo.”

Ellie blinks at the cassette. “What is this?”

“This…” Joel says, pinching it in two fingers, “…is a thing that took a mighty effort to find.”

His handwriting is carved into the label. It’s the first gift – real gift, birthday gift – she’s ever been given. Thought out and made up, addressed to her and placed in her hands for keeps. All hers.

She clicks it into her player and hooks her headphones in, thumping her helmet back over her head. She jams a thumb into the play button, and –

He did remember to rewind the tape, right? It’ll play from the start, won’t it?

Joel’s heart begins to thud. He shifts uncomfortably.

Shit, what if it spoils the surprise? What if she hits play, and the first thing she hears is –

Ellie’s head lifts. Her eyes are wide. She grins, and so does he.

He fucking nailed it.

She closes her eyes, the staticky babble of mission control in her ear. His voice tickles, pulling a wide grin across her face. 10, 9, 8, 7…

The shuttle shudders as it shoots into space. She’s holding her breath, holding until he announces liftoff on Apollo 11. The naked sun stretches over her visor, red under her closed eyelids. It disappears somewhere in the distance.

Ellie lands slowly, carefully, back in Wyoming. She blinks her eyes open.

Joel’s still right beside her, hands clasped on his chest. He waits for her to turn, waits to check her expression. He asks it softly, earnestly.

“I do okay?”

Her cheeks ache with smiling. She clutches the tape player tighter, replies through a giggle.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

There might be nothing outside of this shuttle. Perhaps there was nothing to begin with. They might’ve shot straight past the earth’s atmosphere, might actually be among the stars. And it might not even matter, if they are.

Everything is right here. The sun and the moon – the entire universe between them.

Joel breathes a relieved laugh. His chest loosens, his heart settles back into place behind his ribcage.

“You’re welcome, kiddo.”

[caashmoneynae]

MY MASTERLIST. -> click here for more!

❦

FRIENDS… RIGHT? (GxG)

MEGAN THEE STALLION x BLACK!FEM!OC

SUMMARY: in which not even an outing with their friend group can stop Megan's teasing that alludes to the night her and June shared together. ✨ | friends w/ benefits type beat. 😛

❦

"𝗚𝗜𝗡𝗔! 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗖𝗔𝗡'𝗧 𝗝𝗨𝗦𝗧 𝗔𝗦𝗞 𝗡𝗢 𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗧 𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧!" June exclaimed, laughing, as Hayley and Megan laughed with them and Gina chuckled before playfully shrugging her shoulders.

"shit, i'on give a fuck! you wanna ask me for pussy on the first date, you might as well pay these motherfuckin' bills, nigga!" Gina exclaimed, cockily flipping her honey-brown hair over her shoulder, "this car note, my phone bill, my light bill, my water bill — all'um! shit, do sum' useful and i might let you get a lil' crumb of coochie or sum'."

"long story short tho': i left his ass sittin' there lookin' stupid at that table. nigga had me so fucked up i'an even wanna eat no more," Gina chuckled, taking a sip of her margarita, as she tucked her hair behind her ear, "but enough about me, what about you, J? we all spoke about our recent failed dates except you. spill the tea, lil' mama."

as if on cue with Gina's question, June and Megan locked eyes, and the look in Megan's eyes was something enticing, which made June's core absentmindedly ache. they were only friends, right? so why did just one look from her give her a second heartbeat down below?

the effect Megan had on her was something she'd never experienced before, and this ended up being the cause of them having sex on one lonely night after the club. they were both tipsy, one thing led to another, and the next thing June knew, she was on Megan's lap telling her how good her strap felt inside her.

though they were under the influence, the two agreed to never do it again to salvage their friendship. however, it wasn't easy for June to keep her word because of Megan's flirtatious and tantalizing actions she'd do when no one was paying attention, and it wouldn't be long before June cracked under pressure.

"surprisingly, i'an went on no dates recently. nobody's caught my attention fo'real and judging by y'all's dates, i'd rather just be left alone." June chuckled as Hayley and Megan laughed and Gina dapped June up over the table, the two sharing a laugh while Megan's hand slyly slid onto June's thigh underneath the table and gently squeezed it.

June slightly jumped from the contact and squeezed her thighs shut, her heart rate rising while she attempted to conceal their actions from their friends as her smile never faltered. June witnessed Megan slightly smirk in her peripheral and her hand left her thigh as Megan checked her phone.

"good evening, ladies, i am so sorry about the wait, we're really packed this evening," the waitress apologized as she pulled out her notepad and a pen from her apron, "what can i get you four?"

"oh, you're fine, love! but, i'll have..."

—

the four women laughed and giggled as they sat in Megan's living room playing "Fuck, Marry, Kill" with a slight twist — if they couldn't decide where to place somebody, they took a sip of the alcohol in their glasses and pled the fifth. Gina drank twice, Hayley drank thrice, Megan drank six times due to wanting to fuck or marry too many people, and June drank once.

despite how much they had drunk, the alcohol was affecting each of them differently because they were all drinking different things. Gina was drinking Tequila, Hayley was drinking red wine since she wasn't really a drinker, Megan was drinking D'ussé, and June was drinking Hennessy.

since Megan had drank the most and she wasn't sipping on wine like Hayley, she was definitely starting to feel the effects of it, and June knew exactly what was bound to happen once Megan had too much to drink — she'd get horny, and she was extremely vulgar once her arousal started to sink in.

"okay, okay, my turn! Fuck, Marry, Kill: Rhea Ripley, Nikkita Lyons, and Liv Morgan." Hayley smirked, naming female WWE wrestlers since Gina named the male ones, as she swirled her wine in her glass and Gina and June smacked their lips in sync while Megan giggled tipsily.

"girl, off the bat, i'm killin' Rhea—" Megan started before getting cut off by Gina.

"you can't kill Mami, Meggie, c'mon now!" Gina exclaimed as Megan smacked her lips and looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"G, i'm not bottoming out for nobody and i'm damn sure not switching! i'm gon' be the only top around this motherfucka', do you hear me?" Megan exclaimed, laughing, as the three women laughed with her and Gina raised her hands in defense with a giggle, "but like i was sayin' before you rudely interrupted me: i'm killin' Rhea. she pretty as hell and intimidatin', but i'an callin' nobody Mami! bitch, i get called Mami, the fuck?"

"as for Fuck? oh, i'm takin' Nikkita thick ass down thru' there! turnin' her ass every which way but loose!" Megan exclaimed, clapping her hands, as Gina let out a guffaw in her palm, Hayley giggled, and June blushed due to getting flashbacks from the night she and Meg shared, quickly lowering her head and covering her face while she laughed to try and act normal, "so, i guess i'll marry Liv, she pretty as fuck too."

"well, i'm marryin' Rhea, fuck what Megan said," Gina giggled, gesturing towards Megan with her glass while Megan playfully rolled her eyes at her, "i'm fuckin' Nikkita, i loveeee me some her! so... i guess i'ma kill Liv."

"i gotta' side with Meg on this one and kill Rhea. i'an got no problem with her bein' dominant and all'at 'cause i'm a switch, but she don't seem like a switch and i can't be submissive all the damn time," Hayley chuckled, adjusting her septum piercing, as Gina smacked her lips, June playfully rolled her eyes, and Megan stuck her tongue out while she and Hayley high-fived each other, "as for Fuck... y'all, i gotta' fuck Nikkita, i need her thick ass to do the splits on my face ASAP! i'll marry Liv, she's such a lil' cutie pie."

"see, i love for somebody to take charge in the bedroom and toss me around, so fuck what Le'Le and Meg said, i'm fuckin' Rhea and lettin' her take me to Poundtown like no tomorrow!" June laughed as Hayley giggled, Gina leaned over and dapped her up, and Megan chuckled while a small smirk crossed her face, "now see, this the hard part 'cause i don't wanna kill Nikkita or Liv... aw, hell."

June shook her head and downed the rest of her glass, making the other three girls erupt in laughter, as June licked her lips and shook her head before laughing with her friends and tucking her black hair behind her ear, "i can't pick! i need boff'um!"

"yo' freaky ass." Megan chuckled as she and June locked eyes and Megan tauntingly trailed her tongue around the rim of her glass before downing the rest of the brown liquor in it, sending chills down June's spine while Hayley and Gina were oblivious to what was happening in front of them.

"let's play another game, this one gettin' boring." Gina pouted as Hayley chuckled and looked over at her.

"dirty truth, dare, or drink sound good to y'all?" Hayley asked, raising a brow, as Megan gasped and sat her glass down on the coffee table before standing up and adjusting her shorts.

"hell yeah! lemme' move this coffee table out the way."

—

the four friends sat in a circle with their glasses refilled as an empty bottle sat in the middle of them to dictate whose turn it was.

"okay, i looked up some good truths and dares, so we gon' pass my phone around as we go," Hayley smiled as she held her phone in her left hand and spun the bottle with her right one, watching it slowly come to a stop while it pointed at Gina, "truth or dare, Gi'Gi?"

"truth." Gina smiled innocently as she held her glass in her hand and prepared for what Hayley was going to ask her.

"ever tried role-play? if so, what was it?" Hayley asked, smirking, as she raised a brow and Gina laughed.

"hell yeah, i love that shit. me and one of my exes did it, i was a nurse and she was my patient." Gina explained with a smile, taking Hayley's phone, as she and Hayley dapped each other up and Megan and June laughed at the exchange.

"was that the same ex you told us about that tied you down to the bed?" Megan asked, raising a brow, as Gina smirked and nodded her head, making the other three women laugh while she spun the bottle.

"i be missin' her sometimes," Gina playfully pouted as the bottle stopped on June and Gina looked over at her, "truth or dare, J?"

"truth." June answered as she twirled the ends of her hair with her baby pink acrylic nails.

"ever had a sexual dream about a friend?" Gina asked, raising a brow with a smirk, as Hayley burst out laughing and Megan stared at June with an indescribable look in her eyes while she smirked.

June remained silent as she picked up her glass and took a sip of it, making her friends laugh and causing Hayley to laugh harder than before while June cracked a smile, "it was years ago, i'on wanna talk about it!"

Megan narrowed her eyes at June and her smirk widened as she giggled, knowing she was lying because June told her a week ago about the sexual dream she had of her after their night together.

"y'all embarrassin' me already, gimme' this damn phone," June pouted, playfully snatching the phone from Gina, as the three women laughed at her and June spun the bottle, watching it stop at Megan, "truth or dare, Meggie?"

"dare," Megan smirked, a lustful fire in her eyes while she stared at June, "gimme' sum' good, Junie."

"lick whipped cream off someone's neck." June dared, a smirk on her face, as Hayley's eyebrows raised and Gina laughed, looking at Megan with an instigating look on her face.

"if i'an got it, i'm takin' a drink." Megan laughed, getting up from the floor, as she walked to the kitchen and the three women laughed at her.

"who neck she lickin' that sticky shit off of?" Gina asked, gesturing toward Megan with her thumb, as she looked over at June.

"whoever she picks." June chuckled, shrugging, as the sound of a refrigerator closing caught her attention and she looked towards the doorway of the kitchen, seeing Megan walk out with a proud smile and a bottle of whipped cream.

"y'all lucky i found this, it's only a lil' bit left in this muh'fucka'," Megan chuckled as she stood in the circle and looked at all three of her friends before smirking and walking towards June, "lean yo' neck over, Ju'Ju."

"she finna' be sticky as hell." Gina joked, earning laughs from Hayley and Megan, as June smacked her lips and Hayley scooted over a bit to give Megan and June more room.

"no, she not," Megan chuckled, cupping June's jaw in her hand, as she leaned her head over and pushed her hair to her other shoulder while she sat on her knees, "i clean up my messes, G. so if this gets messy, i'ma clean her up real good."

Megan's tone changed and was now low and sensual, sending chills down June's spine while Gina's brows raised and Hayley smirked widely.

"oh, you a freak bitch, ain't you?" Hayley joked, smirking, as Gina laughed and Megan giggled, shaking up the bottle of whipped cream and aiming it towards June's neck.

"ain't no cap in my raps, Le'Le." Megan smirked as she sprayed the whipped cream on June's neck and June cringed at how cold it was, making Hayley and Gina laugh.

Megan sat the bottle down and leaned closer to June as she turned her head to the side and slipped her tongue out her mouth, laying it out flatly and slowly lapping up the whipped cream on June's neck in a seductive manner while June's breathing slightly hitched. noticing this, Megan smirked as she licked up all the cream, french-kissing June's neck to "make sure" she cleaned up her mess and did a good job while her tongue gently flicked at June's brown skin and June could've sworn she felt her clit throb at the sensation.

"this bitch." June thought to herself as she locked eyes with Megan and Megan subtly blew her a kiss, making her thighs absentmindedly squeeze together.

"this is some freaky ass shit, goddamn," Hayley spoke in awe, watching Megan slowly pull away from June's neck before Hayley eagerly raised her hand like a toddler and waved it around with a smile, "me next!"

the friend group immediately burst into a fit of laughter after Hayley's exclaim and Megan giggled as she picked up the bottle of whipped cream and headed back to the kitchen.

"Meg, baby, where you goin'? i'm serious!"

—

by the time Hayley, Gina, and June realized it was getting late and that it was time for them to leave, they had already drunk wayyy too much and decided it'd be best to crash at Megan's place to avoid a DUI, which Megan didn't mind. Hayley and Gina slept together in one of Megan's guest bedrooms to avoid messing up two different ones and Megan had somehow persuaded June to sleep in her room, which didn't surprise either of them.

she just hoped Megan didn't try anything because she was bound to fold, especially with the liquor in her system.

"goodnight, kiddos." June joked, closing the door to the guest bedroom, as Hayley smacked her lips and an asleep Gina let out a soft snore in response, making June giggle while she walked across the hall to Megan's room.

as if on cue with June entering the room, the door abruptly closed behind her and the soft sound of a lock sounded off, making June jump while she turned around and locked eyes with Megan, who was leaning up against the door in her bra and panties while one hand rested on the doorknob and the other rested on her hip.

"you like for somebody to take charge, huh?" Megan purred, smirking, as she referred to what June said about Rhea Ripley during their "Fuck, Marry, Kill" game and slowly approached her, causing June to back up with each step Megan took until she eventually landed on the bed and a soft gasp fell from her lips once she landed on Megan's plush mattress.

"M... Meg..." June whispered, feeling her second heartbeat return, as she adjusted her rising dress and scooted further back onto the bed, making Megan giggle before she grabbed her ankle and pulled her back to the end of the bed.

"you know i'on do runners, Ju'Ju," Megan cooed, as she let go of her ankle and grabbed her knees, spreading her legs wide and revealing the wet spot on her panties, "youn' remember how i pinned you down to keep you from runnin' last time?"

June whimpered feebly at the mention of their night and a shiver went down her spine as Megan hooked her finger underneath the waistband of June's panties and slowly pulled them down her brown legs, tossing them to the side while she pushed her legs wide open again.

"you like this shit, huh? that's why you so wet?" Megan teased, smirking, as she hiked June's dress up to her upper stomach and lightly traced her clitoris with her thumb before applying pressure to it, making June gasp, "answer me, pretty. i'on like being ignored."

"you b-been teasing me all day, h-how am i not supposed to be w-wet?" June whimpered, gently biting down on her lip, as Megan chuckled softly and ran her tongue over her lips, lowering her face to June's vulva before June suddenly stopped her, "Meg, Hayley and Gina are right across the hall—"

"whose problem is that, June? mine or yours?" Megan asked, raising a brow, as she dropped to her knees and pulled June closer to her face by her hips, "i guess you better be quiet then, huh?"

June opened her mouth to protest but her thought process was cut short by Megan's lips latching around her clitoris, making her gasp while her back slightly arched up from the bed. June's eyes rolled back as Megan began to sloppily eat her out, slurping sounds echoing in the bedroom while Megan's eyes slowly shut in concentration. she caressed June's inner thighs before taking a hand off one of them and teasing her entrance with her middle finger, prodding at it but never fully entering it.

"Meg, please—"

"who?" Megan asked, her eyes opening, as she looked up at June and flickered her tongue against her throbbing bud, "that ain't my name, June, you better say my shit."

June's eyes rolled back as Megan french-kissed her clit, moving her mouth slowly and sensually while she moaned against her. her tongue explored her folds and her plump lips sucked on June's second pair of lips before she started to flick her tongue for a second time, the pace in her tongue quicker than before while June grabbed a handful of her hair.

"M-Mami!" June cried, earning a wide smirk from Megan, as Megan's middle finger eased inside her walls and she thrusted it at a steady pace, curving it occasionally while she pulled her face away from her wet sex.

"mhm, that's what i like to hear, pretty girl," Megan cooed, adding her ring finger, as she stood up from her knees and wrapped her unoccupied hand around June's neck while she hovered above her, "if you don't want us to get caught, bestie, i suggest you be a lil' quieter."

"i... i... o-oh, right there!" June whimpered in a whisper, feeling the tip of Megan's fingers hit her g-spot, as she looked up at Megan and noticed the smug smirk on her face, causing her to fall more into a submissive state than before.

"i'm where you need me at, baby? huh? did Mami hit that sweet spot?" Megan taunted in a coo, squeezing the sides of her neck, as June's eyes rolled back and she vigorously nodded her head, making Megan's fingers speed up their pace, "words, June."

"yes!" June cried before abruptly squirting, her juices soaking Megan's hand and her sheets as she came hard. Megan giggled at this as she continued to thrust her fingers inside her, finger-fucking her through her orgasm while June's legs trembled and she tightly held onto Megan's shoulders.

"aw, that's what i like to see," Megan smirked, leaning up from June, as she pulled her fingers out of her walls and slipped them into her mouth before smacking her clitoris, earning a squeal from June while her hips bucked at the impact, "now get'cho ass up, take the rest of that shit off, and put that ass in the air. you know how i like it."

weakly, June stripped herself of her dress and bra and tossed them on the floor near her discarded underwear as she flipped over on her stomach and placed a deep arch in her back, still trying to catch her breath from her previous orgasm while her brown face was now slightly rosy.

she hadn't squirted in forever...

feeling a smack on her ass, June squealed softly and was brought back to reality as she felt Megan's fingers play with her clit, making June moan softly while she felt Megan's strap slowly slide inside her. her jaw dropped and her eyes rolled back as her walls adjusted to Megan's size, her grip on the sheets tight while her pussy swallowed the strap whole.

"oh, you missed this, huh? she suckin' up my whole strap, baby," Megan teased, smacking her ass, as she gripped June's hips and began thrusting at a steady pace, her hips gyrating into June's while she watched her ass bounce with each stroke, "we 'posed to be friends, princess, you takin' my shit like a pro, ain't you?"

"Meggggg." June whined, her brows furrowing, as she felt Megan's body lean down hers and she watched her grab a pillow before shoving it between the wall and the headboard, making June's eyes widen before they rolled back due to Megan's strokes speeding up.

"what i tell you? huh?" Megan growled, grabbing a handful of her hair, as she pulled her up to her chest and let go of her hair before gripping her neck instead, "what's my name, June? huh? say my damn name."

"M-Mami! oh, sh-shittttt," June moaned loudly, prompting Megan to let go of her neck and firmly cover her mouth, as June's eyes rolled back and she felt Megan's hand return back to her bundle of nerves, her body jolting while Megan rubbed her clitoris in quick circles, "fuck, fuck, fuck— o-oh, my God!"

"that's right, baby. you're such a good girl, aren't you?" Megan cooed in her ear, kissing her earlobe and tugging at it with her teeth, as she wrapped her arms around June and leaned back down to the bed, pressing her body weight onto hers while June moaned loudly into a pillow nearby, "we just friends, right? why you lettin' me dig you out like this then? huh? why you lettin' me fuck you silly like this, June? this ain't what friends do, sweet girl."

"don't stop, don't stop, d-don't stop!" June chanted, balling the sheets up in her hands, as her eyes rolled back and her teeth sunk into the pillow she used to conceal her moans, feeling a soft kiss on her ear while Megan's tongue trailed around her earlobe.

"you take me so good, baby. i wonder what our friends would think if they could see you now," Megan smirked softly in her ear, grinding her hips against her ass, as a stray tear rolled down June's cheek and she whined into the pillow, her stomach convulsing while she felt her climax come closer and closer, "whose pussy is this, June?"

"y-yours!" June whined into the pillow before Megan took an arm from around her body and grabbed her hair, yanking her head back from the pillow and making her gasp at the roughness.

"whose? what'chu say, pretty?" Megan teased as she let go of her hair and wrapped her hand around her neck, choking her while her face rested beside hers.

"yours!" June moaned, biting down on her bottom lip, as Megan peppered kisses on the side of her neck and shimmed her other hand up to June's breasts, twisting and flicking her sensitive, erect nipple while June's lips sat ajar.

"that's right, baby," Megan cooed, tugging at June's nipple, as she squeezed the sides of her neck and June let out a feeble whimper, "we ain't friends, June. you mine, you hear me?"

"y-yes! oh, my G-God, i'm gonna c-cum! i'm gonna—" June was cut off by her words becoming stuck in her throat, and she felt Megan's body weight leave her as Megan firmly gripped her hip with one hand and pressed down on the back of her neck with the other, giving June deadly strokes while the bed rocked underneath them.

"cum for me, pretty girl, c'mon. show me how your friend makes you cum." Megan's words sent her over the edge and her body seized in place as her eyes rolled back and her hips suddenly bucked before she squealed loudly into the sheets, her eyebrows furrowing while she orgasmed harder than before. her legs trembled and her hips and clit jolted as Megan slowed down her strokes, continuing to fuck her through her climax just like before while June's body gradually relaxed and she whimpered into the sheets.

June huffed softly and her eyes sat low as she stared off at the wall, trying to catch her breath while Megan pulled out of her and smacked her ass, making her look over her shoulder at the tall woman.

"we ain't done either. i been waitin' for this shit all day." Megan announced, unhooking the harness from her waist, as she flipped June onto her back and their eyes locked, June's eyes quickly going to Megan's waist once she saw her grip the waistband of her panties.

June watched with anticipation as Megan stripped from her panties, revealing her freshly waxed wet sex. her bra came off next, and June stared at her breasts in awe as Megan crawled on top of her, hovering above her while she planted a kiss on her lips. smirking, Megan straddled June's chest and pushed June's hair out of her face as she cupped her face in her hand before parting her lips to speak.

"Open that pretty mouth, June. I'm not gon' be the only muh'fucka' eatin' pussy tonight, princess."

[thewertsearch]

And now we have to deal with this motherfucker.

It’s probable that Scratch knew things would play out like this, which means this message was always intended for Karkat.

...it's probable that that's the case, but there's always a slight possibility that we're in one of his dark pockets. If so, then Karkat wasn't supposed to see this message, and might be about to learn something Scratch doesn't want him to know.

Mr. Vantas.

Dang it.

I'm delivering this message through the console of one of my numerous unwitting proteges to give you a word of advice, and then you will not hear from me again.

Characteristically unhelpful - and in fact, it might not refer to either of Eridan's victims. We still have Tavros's corpse to deal with, and I'm sure there'll be more bodies hitting the floor before the day is out.

All of the bodies in the room remain as they were. There is clearly nothing to be concerned about whatsoever.

Feferi has an eldritch connection through the Horrorterrrors, and they could probably pull some dark magical shenanigans to get her body moving again. I think that's unlikely, though, since Feferi's ghost is active in the Dream Bubbles, and I don't think she'd actually want to be revived. After all, she's go a job to do.

I'm still convinced that Kanaya's coming back, but it's hardly going to happen while our back is turned. We're out of Kernelsprites, so she can't be prototyped - and we can't use her Dream Moon Slab, if it even exists, because Prospit's been destroyed by Jack.

Frankly, I can't think of a single realistic way to revive her short of time travel, and that's not a road we want to go down. I'm really trying not to think about what that might mean.

I guess that leaves Tavros.

There's definitely something going on with him that we don't understand. He was about to smooch Vriska before she stopped him, and the Breath symbolism surrounding the act makes me think it was more than just a typical Dream Self revival kiss. He has a hidden power, and that power seems to kick in when someone's dying.

Could Tavros be a little less dead than we've been led to believe? It's possible - his arc doesn't scan as complete to me. He'd only obtained the merest shred of confidence before Vriska brought him fatally down to earth, and I think there are still many interesting places you could take his character.

CG: THERE YOU ARE, YOU HAD ME WORRIED DUDE […] CG: QUIT THE BULLSHIT PARTYCLOWN ANTICS AND GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE. […] TC: shut up. CG: WHAT… TC: I SAID SHUT THE MOTHERFUCK UP, MOTHERFUCKER. TC: honk honk honk :o)

Gamzee’s rocking a new quirk. He’s still swapping cases, but they’re alternating every message rather than every character, as though his mind is less scrambled than it used to be.

Could this be how he talks when he's off the slime? He already seems more aware than before, and his grumpiness evokes a hangover - but he's honking more than he used to, which is the opposite of what I'd expect if he was sober.

CG: SERIOUSLY, GET BACK HERE NOW, AND HAVE A SLIME PIE TO RELAX OR SOMETHING. TC: SLIME? TC: there is no more slime, brother. TC: AND ANYWAY. TC: shit was motherfuckin poison, didn't you know?

Yup. It looks like Gamzee’s gone cold featherbeast.

It's not a great time for this to happen, but it's not like we can stop it now. I highly doubt Gamzee was forward-thinking enough to reproduce his pies through alchemy, and things are a little too tense right now to try getting clever with an Appearifier. For better or worse, his supply has dried up for the foreseeable future.

So now, for the first time, we're interacting with a Gamzee who isn't out of his mind on soporifics. His shift in personality is already pretty drastic, and I'm interested in seeing what the real Gamzee is like.

[buckymorelikefuckme]

an evened score

jake jensen x fem reader

part two of a helping hand

words: 1.3k

warnings: jake motherfuckin jensen, explicit sexual content so **18+ ONLY** pls and thank, guided masturbation, use of vibrator, dirty talk, brief unprotected sex (don’t do that), crying during sex, multiple orgasms… uhhh, i think that’s it? but let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: this one is for you @bigtreefest 🫡♥️ i have no excuse for this except for the fact that i’m whipped for this man and can’t stop thinking about him. not proofread so any and all mistakes are my own! feedback is encouraged and greatly appreciated 🥰 xo

❀ part one

“Jake, please.”

Your voice is thin and weary, nearly a whine, as your chest heaves for breath.

Time has ceased to exist and has left you to spiral into a mindless, pleasure filled haze. Yet, even in the midst of the overwhelming good you’re feeling, there hasn’t been a chance of following those tingly, sparkly sensations to completion. No hint of satisfaction yet.

Perhaps you created a monster when you offered to lend a hand to your sweet Jakey, all those weeks ago, when the two of you easily slipped into more-than-friends. He’d been so shy still during the first few weeks, always taking what he was given and only sometimes asking for more, until you sat him down and told him you liked when he asked for more, when he took more. After that, he got a little more confident. More assured.

And now, in the present, you’re putty in his hands. He’s got you in the same position you first had him in; your chest resting against his back, settled between his muscled thighs. Jake asked you to show him how you get yourself off and it sent a new type of thrill down your spine, so you eagerly agreed.

Oh, how naive you’d been.

“Keep going, baby, you’re doing so well,” he murmurs in your ear, his lips brushing the cartilage tantalizingly.

You do whine this time, needy and drawn out. You’ve got three fingers in your pussy, thrusting them at an uneven pace, face full of heat at the audible squelching sounds it creates. In your other hand is a small bullet vibrator that you’ve been lightly grazing on and around your clit, not wanting to put too much pressure on such a sensitive spot, especially when you’ve already come twice. You’ve been torn between begging to stop and begging for him to fucking do something already, especially since he’s—

“Just thinking about how warm you are inside,” he says, gruff, his chest rumbling beneath your back. “How your pussy squeezes me so tight. Never felt anything better in my life.”

As if it’s responding to his words, your pussy clenches around your fingers, and you bite your lip to hold back your whimpers. He’s been whispering all the things he wants to do to you, all the ways he finds you sexy, everything he loves about fucking you, and you’re reaching your breaking point. You can feel his cock, so fucking hard and pulsing at the small of your back, but he won’t do anything, fuck, you’re almost crying out of pure frustration. Your skin glistens with a light sheen of sweat as you struggle to keep your legs spread.

“I’ve had so many fantasies about you,” Jake confesses next, softer in this admission in a way that highlights his lingering trepidation of being so bold with you, but all it does is make you finally let out that whimper and have your head falling limply back onto his shoulder. “Wanna… wanna try so many things.”

“What—“ You stop and gasp when the vibrator hits such a perfect spot, body locking up before you force yourself to relax. “What kind of things?” you manage to get out several seconds later.

He hums, dragging his lips across your neck, stopping occasionally to lick and nip at it. “Thought about seeing how many times I can make you come on my tongue only, in one night. Thought about fucking you against the windows, so everyone could see how well I take care of you. Wanna bend you over the couch, or the counter, or any other flat surface so I can watch your ass bounce while I fuck you. Wanna—god, I wanna spank your beautiful ass and leave my handprint there like a fucking brand.”

His hands finally begin to wander your skin, his own breathing picking up as he voices his imagination. Your fingers have since stopped moving, mostly because your arm is tired, but also because everything he’s saying is making you lose your goddamn mind and you can’t focus anymore.

“Wondered if you could keep my cock warm in your pussy while I finished up some work. Or maybe in your mouth. You’d be such a good girl for me, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” you cry, nodding and turning your face into his neck to desperately mouth at whatever you can reach. “Jakey, please, I need more.”

He coos, kissing your forehead. “Your fingers aren’t enough, are they?”

You shake your head and whine, because he’s right. Your fingers are nothing compared to his. They’re thin and kind of dainty, where his are thick and so good and long. But even his fingers don’t compare to his cock. Oh, sweet merciful jesus, his cock. You’d write and perform sonnets about it if you knew Jake wouldn’t combust from embarrassment.

“Okay,” he relents, “c’mon, you can have my fingers.”

The moment the words leave his lips you’re removing your own and lifting them to prod at his mouth, which he opens immediately. He groans, guttural and greedy, as he sucks every bit of your taste off of them. Yours still trapped between his lips, he wastes no time plunging two of his fingers into your dripping wet pussy, moaning when you flutter around them straight away. Your jaw slackens from the switch, hips fucking forward into his hand before you even register that you’re moving and your own fingers slipping free from his skilled tongue.

“Keep being good for me,” he instructs, “keep using your toy on your pretty pussy.”

Tears gather in your eyes when you touch your clit with the vibrating tip of the toy. It’s so much, too much, and it’s not nearly enough either.

“Jake,” you cry, bringing your knees up and fighting against the urge to close them.

“Look at you,” he muses, free hand gliding down your torso and back up to pinch and tweak at your nipples, then sliding downward once more to wrap around your hand and guide your movements, applying even more pressure to the vibrator that has you jerking and sobbing his name louder than ever. “So fucking perfect. Fantasy can’t hold a candle to reality, baby.”

Your tears spill over as you cry and beg and writhe, for more, for everything. Jake shushes you gently, curling his fingers inside you to rub incessantly at the spot that makes you sob pathetically, keeping those vibrations directly on your clit.

It’s sensory overload and your orgasm rips through you almost violently. Every bit of your being trembles and spasms, lungs aching as you sharply search for your breath, pleasure pulsing through you from the top of your head all the way down to your curled toes. The fingernails of your free hand dig into his meaty thigh as he coaxes you through the hardest orgasm of your fucking life.

It seems like it drags on and on and on. Your vision starts to go fuzzy and the noises pouring out of you become quieter and smaller, legs shaking as tremors wrack through your body. Jake continues murmuring sweet praises in your ear as he slowly stops moving his fingers and removes the vibrator. Like the strings of a marionette being cut, you fall back into his embrace, fighting to keep your eyes open.

“Baby,” he’s whispering urgently, and the last functioning brain cell you have takes note of the way his hips are twitching upward into you, “baby, please.”

You hum softly in assent and he’s carefully, yet eagerly, scrambling to get you flat on your back.

“I’ll be quick, I promise, I just need you,” he mutters as he lines up his gorgeous, thick, huge, fucking perfect cock and thrusts inside. You let out a pitiful cry and he kisses you. “I know, I know,” he croons, setting up a rough pace from the start, “we’ll take a rest after this, okay? But then I have more plans.”

You’d hit him if you had the energy. You’d protest and call him an insatiable fucking monster… but you both know you’d be begging for him within minutes, so instead, you let him wipe away your tears and suck on his tongue while he fucks the breath out of you.

[touyas-multi-purpose-saline]

DAY VII. — ROLEPLAY

cw: Fluff, Romantic Dirty Talk, Aged-Up / Pro-Hero Time-Skip, Implied Cunnilingus, Attempt at Humor, Sexual Roleplay, Fem! Reader. 18+ Only!

author's note: Another fic that's tailored to one of my friends. I think Tenya's really romantic and has the potential to be one of the swaggest lovers in the whole world. Anyhow, enjoy!

word count: Approximately 1.5k words.

Today was not your motherfuckin’ day. 

Work was miserable. Villains running amok—three bank robberies, one hostage situation, and a group of loser thugs harassed a poor old lady by attempting to intimidate her into giving them her purse by doing a sad attempt of “the worm.” So many other things, too, it didn’t just stop at your duties. You don’t even want to remember the horrors of the exploding fax machine at your agency. Who even uses fax machines anymore? 

Whatever. All that mattered now was that you were home, slipping off your shoes by the door and stretching your back until it popped loudly. A satisfied grin started to spread across your lips, only growing wider whenever you stepped into your genuine home and started walking towards the living room. You’re positive your husband’s already here—he’s sent you updates throughout the day, all of them regarding dinner plans or simple texts stating how he cherishes you. It’s endearing, and you’re almost itching at the fingertips to wrap your arms around his shoulders to squeeze sweet nothings into that warm brain of his. That grin on your face was reaching your ears, so you sped up and basically slid yourself into the living room by the skin of your socks. 

Tenya was sitting on the couch, a small fire cooking in the fireplace. The room felt so cozy, like a thick sweat enveloping your body, and you immediately sighed. Oh, yeah, you’re so glad to be home. He looks so cute sitting there, an open book in his hands while he reads. You wonder what he could be reading—but, honestly, you’re currently more curious about if he could wrap those hands around your waist and draw you in for a passionate kiss to help soothe the miserable events of the day away. 

A chuckle bubbles in the back of your throat. 

“Ohh, Tenten. How’s my lovely darling boy?” 

You feel Tenya jolt a little underneath your touch, underneath the hands that slither over the round of his shoulders from behind the couch. He clears his throat, closing the book before he tilts his head far enough to meet your gaze. Those blazing red eyes make your breath hitch, but then that beautiful smile breathes wind back into your lungs. 

“Ah, hello, dearest. I didn’t realize you were home. With the messages you sent me, I figured you’d be caught up for another few hours.” 

He leans forward to place the book atop the coffee table directly in front of him, dragging your fingers along until your elbows rest against the couch. 

“Nah, one of my bros helped me out by fighting the fax machine. Turns out there was some sort of Quirk interfering? A misfire? A, um, fax machine ghost? I can’t quite remember the reason, but I didn’t have to deal with it. So I’m home now.” 

Tenya pauses, more than likely taken aback, but then hums with a small nod of his head. 

“I see! How curious. Well, regardless, it’s great to have you back here.” 

You hum as well, removing your hands from Tenya—but making sure that you slide against his smooth shirt so very slowly—and round the couch until you’re standing in front of him. 

“Back home with my dashing husband? How lucky~” 

The fire crackles whenever you let your body sink down onto the couch, a coy smile batting its lashes against your cheeks while Tenya watches you with an intrigued but earnest expression. You yawn, patting your hand against your mouth before you sigh out wistfully. 

“What a shame, though. I wish that I had someone to tend to me. You know, someone who could just help me get outta these clothes and feel good.”

It’s like lightning flashed before Tenya’s eyes because he immediately blinks, stiffens, straightens his back, and then slowly returns. He seems to flush, a shadow that falls across the bridge of his nose before he cutely glances away with a bashful tilt of his mouth. One of his hands stretches forward, finding a home atop the center of your thigh. His digits curl before they squeeze, which elicits a soft little sigh from you. 

“Yes, I think you deserve someone to tend to you. Why don’t you let me fill that position—if you think I’m worthy of it?” 

There’s a hint of nervousness coating the edges of Tenya’s question just like always, so you drop a hand to his hand and give it a little pinch. His head swivels around to face yours again. 

“Of course. How could I ever live without my dutiful butler to pamper me?” 

More and more, those red gems boring into your soul begin to kindle and spark, filling with oxygen and growing louder. Tenya moves forward, pulling you deeper into the rings of his fire, and you let yourself fall. Passion crosses his face, determined, before he begins to saddle down to his knees on the floor. 

“What kind of butler would I be if I didn’t perform to my fullest abilities for my Mistress?” 

A shiver traces down your spine, something that takes your reins and makes your legs part. Tenya glances between your knees, understanding etching into his features while he attempts to slot himself through. His hands are running up and down your legs, finding ways to let those flimsy columns find homes in his fingers before they start to breach towards the band of your bottoms. Tenya’s looking at you carefully, seemingly reading your expression to make sure he’s not overstepping any boundaries. He always does this, so tender, and you chuckle before you comb one of your hands through those midnight blue locks. 

“You never fail to impress me, dear butler. You’re always so hard at work. Surely you must be hungry?”

Tenya’s fingers finally break through the band, hooking underneath the fabric before he oh-so slowly begins to peel them down your frame. You lift your midriff a little so it’s easier for Tenya, and he nods at you. 

“Thank you. Of course, Mistress. I can’t risk slipping up on my duties. I also can’t possibly ask for you to offer me something to eat.” 

You shake your head, lowering your body again but crooking your knees so that Tenya could fully slide your bottoms off of your ankles. Those smoldering expressions crossing his face make him look so intimidating, but the fireplace brings you into reality, flickering and casting shadows throughout the room that make Tenya seem so ethereally beautiful. A thunder in your heart makes you painfully aware of the heat that’s dripping down into your groin like a broken faucet, leaking and puddling all over the couch until you can feel it in your toes. He’s so good to you, and you can feel the love in your heart clench and flip like turning tides. You want him, need him. The words leave your mouth. 

“Oh, dear butler, take what I have to offer. Enjoy yourself, lose yourself. Feast, please, pleaseee?” 

Each word becomes less cohesive, crossing the territory of being mindless pleas and begging that make you feel like a lost little kitten pawing at their mother’s swollen tummy. Tenya seems to go insane. Conflagrations, flames that could destroy the universe, consume him and he groans before he obeys. 

“As you wish, my Mistress.” 

The last syllable is nothing but a low growl, something feral and wild, and you have to toss your head back into the couch and close your eyes at the drugs that shoot through your veins. Psychedelic, addictive, so many words that can’t even begin to describe the hallucinations Tenya’s sex fills your head. Tenya just uses those large hands of his, those mitts that could engulf your whole body if you let them, to rest against the inner dips of your thighs and spread them apart. He starts to scoot closer, shoving himself in as much as he can before his knees bump the couch and he grunts. You whimper. 

“Butler, yes, I need you so bad. I want you, I want you, I love you.”

Tenya’s head finds its destiny between the swell of your thighs, his hot and misty breath fanning across the slick and juice that trickles between the slit of your cunt. He makes another sound, too low to identify, but it makes your head spin whenever he whispers out in that husky voice, 

“Mistress, I will make you feel good. I will show you how much I worship you.” 

Nothing spills from your mouth but a frothy moan before Tenya’s head is gone, buried in your cunt, that flat tongue of his finding its new owner atop your throbbing and erect clit. 

“I am forever at your service, Mistress, my love.” 

And Tenya’s lost to sea. 

[trippinsorrows]

are jey's kids really bad or is that just roman being a grump?

oh no, they are bad. lol you ever seen bebe's kids? imagine that.

something like this....

-----

"i want the shipment moved no later than—" the sound of an object crashing and shattering interrupts roman, the speaker shutting his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

third.

this is the third goddamn interruption in under half an hour, and there is no doubt in roman's mind that the cause is the same as it was the prior two times.

and judging by the look on jey's face, he thinks the same too.

standing up, he turns his body toward the house and calls out, "hey, what ya'll doing!"

jimmy snorts and takes a sip of his beer. "ain't it obvious? breaking shit."

jey shoots his twin a look that's the equivalent of 'shut the fuck up' as jey moves onto requesting the presence of his unruly children. "ya'll, get out here now!"

at that, roman scowls. "can't you go to them?" roman could go the rest of his life without being around jey's children, and having already had the displeasure of interacting with them twice today thus far, he's reached his max.

jey starts to offer a rebuttal, reminding his cousin that it was roman who wanted to have the meeting at someone's place other than his. something about the twins being 'destructive'.

it's not like they didn't pay for the repairs on the maserati.

roman grabs his own beer, downing the rest as one by one, the result of jey not being smart enough to use a condom—all four times—come running out, mischief written all over their faces.

but, jey is more focused on the black eye on one of his kids, the matted hair of another, and the small cut on the eyebrow on a third kid.

"what the hell done happened to ya'll?" he doesn't wait for a reply, reminding them, "jordan, were you trying to kill josiah again?"

jordan looks just as unremorseful as he feels, defending, "he deserved it!"

at that, roman actually agrees. out of all of jey's wild offspring, josiah has always been the most irritating.

he probably had it coming.

"how many times i gotta tell ya'll? you can only beat each other up to fight, not to kill!" jey blows out a breath, hands over his face. he sounds as exasperated as roman feels. maybe it's worth whatever destruction his cousins cause to just have meetings at his house. that's not as taxing as being around this shit.

journee, a little nicki in training, just has to chime in, pointing like the snitch she is, "he was being a little bitch, daddy!"

"aye!" jey interrupts, voice firm. "what i tell ya'll about all that goddamn cussing?" he doesn't wait for a reply, scolding them yet again, "stop using all that fuckin' language in my motherfuckin' house!"

one of the kids rolls their eyes, the second oldest boy, roman guesses, is quick with a smartass reply. "mama said we ain't gotta listen to you."

"she said what?"

jimmy shakes his head, murmuring to roman as he gazes at the uncovered pool, the sun reflecting off the lights at the bottom. "here we go...."

"she said you a bit—"

"that's enough!" jey marches over to the table, snatching his phone and mumbling to roman and his twin about being 'right back.' the last thing that's heard is jey laying into nicki, "who the hell you think you are telling my kids—what was that? bitch, i know you not with ole' dude again! man, i'll kill his ass and make you watch!"

the kids, thankfully, disperse back into the house.

roman is ready to pass on his parting words to jimmy and be the fuck gone. the desire for a good workout—or fucking—growing by the second. he might have to hit up sasha. sam was on that shit last time, and he's already in a foul mood.

but, a tug on his sleeve prevents him from doing that, roman's disdain painted over his handsome face. "what?" he asks, gruffly.

jayla rolls her brown eyes and only extends out her open palm. "my birthday is next month."

"and?" roman's more likely to wish jey's youngest daughter a 'happy accidental existence' day than 'happy birthday.'

however, she's undeterred, reminding, "my money?"

that, however, makes roman chuckle. he'd almost forgotten that out the four, she happens to be his favorite unfavorite. he don't like none of him, but she's not as intolerable as the rest. and her hustle is impressive.

pulling out his wallet, he asks, "how old you turning? 5?"

"i'm turning 7, uncle roman." she scoffs, maybe to herself, or him. "old people...."

at that, roman pauses, "you want the money or what, kid?"

she looks down, sheepishly, as roman counts out three hundred dollar bills, laying them in her waiting hand. "there. now don't bother me again until next year."

it's an easy request for the almost 7 year old, her eyes wide as she imagines all the robux she'll be able to get.

stuffing the money into her pocket, she nods and offers appreciation. "good to see you, uncle roman." roman shakes his head as jayla moves over to jimmy. "uncle jimmy....."

however, jimmy is not roman. "girl, i ain't got no money."

jayla stays true to her no filter nature. "so you're a broke ass?"

at that, roman turns his head. he actually has to hold back his smile. yeah, jayla might most definitely become his favorite at some point.

"broke ass?" jimmy, of course, fails to see that he's being baited by a damn second grader and yanks out his wallet, counting out a stack of hundreds and giving it to her. "how's that for broke ass?"

jayla looks like she just won the lottery, and at her age, she essentially just did. she doesn't bother with an expression of appreciation before dashing off with all her money.

and roman just watches as recognition dawns on jimmy's face, effectively ridding him of that goofy ass smile. "wait, that was my strip club money." he hops off the stool and goes after his niece. "get back here, you lil samoan wednesday!"

[fbfh]

would you ever write for logan huntzberger!!<3

HELL MOTHERFUCKIN YEAH BITCH!!!!!!!! okay I have a oneshot planned for this but it's not gonna be an immediate thing so don't hold your breath for that but ANYWAY

one thing Logan will absolutley not stand for is you sleep depriving yourself. not if you actually have trouble sleeping bc that's different but when it's voluntairy?? when you push yourself to stay up late and get up early?? god help you. god help Logan tbh. he tried to be chill about it, he really did. but after one of your many, many sleepovers with Logan, you forgot to shut one of your phone alarms off. you tried to turn it off before he woke up, and you thought you'd succeeded. Logan still slept peacefully next to you, lying on his back with one arm wrapped around you and one resting over his face. you knew you should go back to sleep, it's early and he kept you up so late last night, but the sight of your unending notifications is too much to resist. you're just going to check your work email really quick. and maybe your texts, just in case there was an emergency or something. and maybe start proof reading that doccument you need to get ready. you reach over, careful not to wake Logan, and grab the bluetooth keyboard you keep in your bag. it might seem overkill to some, but the sooner you edit this doccument, the sooner you can move on to the next- uh, go to bed. totally. that's totally your plan. Logan, however, is not asleep. he watches you out of one eye, keeping the other shut. after a few minutes, you really show no signs of stopping. knowing that you have all your stuff set to autosave and backed up to a cloud, he reaches over, picking up your keyboard.

"Nope." his voice is groggy with sleep as he sets it on his night table. "Too early for that."

the way you blush when you realize he's up is so cute he's tempted to... keep you up again. instead he grabs your phone as you sputter out a protests, unable to avoid a flustered giggle at how protective he is over you, over your time and your health, at how he helps you enforce your boundaries.

"It's too early, ace."

his voice is more affectionate this time as he turns on do not disturb, then sets your phone on his night table.

"but- what if there's, like, an emergency or something?" you ask, and it sounds flimsy even to you. he pulls you effortlessly into him, adjusting the blankets the way he knows you like.

"a work emergency?" he asks, and you nod. he smiles a little, blinking with sleep as he settles you down. he presses a kiss to your nose before responding. "they'll call me."

you seem unsatisfied with this answer, but he feels you relax into him, feels your breathing slow down.

"and I'll tell you all about it, first thing."

you can't complain at that, and he punctuates his point with a kiss to your forehead. as if there was any doubt that Logan always has your back, especially regarding how much sleep you get, the last thing you hear before you drift off again is his voice, somehow sleepy and firm and full of love all at once.

"get some sleep, ace."

[quintessencewrites]

Emotionally Unavailable

cheating! sub! Riri x cheating! fem! black! switch! reader x dom! Shuri

Your thumbs hooked into the elastic of her waistband, pulling down slowly. Further down, her pants went until the tattoo on her hips was completely visible.

 Two little hearts, one on each hip. One black, one red, both nothing but line art because Riri wasn’t drunk enough to handle the pain. The matching pair to the red and black ones etched onto your skin in permanence in the same spot. 

A souvenir from your last last time. 

Warnings: 18+!!! smut ahead!!!! ANGST, cheating, established relationship (Shuri and Riri), previous relationship (Shuri and reader), they ain't in a relationship, but they fucking (Riri and reader), threesome, this whole damn story is toxic, y'all, exhobitionism, squirting, masturbation, overstimulation, praise kink, slight degradation, fingering, public? sex, oral sex, anal, strap slinging Shuri, explicit language, stalking? sub Riri (she's so cute), Dom Shuri, switch reader, mami kink, so many that I probably missed.

Word Count: 8.3k

Tags: @inmyheadimobsessed @shurislover @6-noir @ihearttish @vampzxi @verachii @phantomof-themcu @taiiunknown @pocketsizedpanther @shuris3leg @bellaallebbella1

Riri’s head was in the clouds, her feet trailing the ground. Each step she took was staggered and unsure, and if her heart were to pound in her chest any harder, it’d be sure to crack the bony cage that contained it. She was so slow to approach you, quite literally digging her toes into the ground so that her feet dragged along the linoleum of the mall floor. 

Her pupils retracted, panicked, glancing back at the large doors she’d just walked through. Maybe she could turn around and pretend she had gotten her dates mixed up before you spotted her-

“Riri- motherfuckin’- Williams!”

Too late. 

Your voice was embarrassingly loud; even you couldn’t help but cringe when it carried across the ample space, and several pairs of eyes traveled with it. 

Her head ducked, and her pace doubled, and she thanked Bast for her mahogany complexion that masked the heat that started in her cheeks and spread through her face.  

“You gotta be so loud?” Riri questioned with a hiss. 

The light reflecting off the steel table that your elbows rested on caught her eye, and they slowly rose, aligning her line of vision with an entirely different view: you. 

Your face rested in your cupped hands, cheeks puffed just slightly. Riri’s eyes stopped on yours, enchanted by the way they danced. Mischief waltzed and amusement tangoed, and together, they pulled Riri in further and further and further until she was swept off her feet-

She tried to shake away her disappointment when the sound of you clearing your throat dragged her back to bleak reality. 

“You tryna silence me?”

A smirk played at the corner of your lips, and Riri felt the corners of hers twitch. Damn, you and that contagious smile, the type of smile that started on your glowing face and spread to the face of those around you like a sickly disease. 

“Never that.” Your grin had broken the girl with an iron heart, and she allowed her body to relax, lowering it into the seat across from you. “Bast help the woman who tries.”

Riri’s back kissed the frigid metal of her chair, and her arms folded across her chest as she sat back beneath your oh-so-intense stare. A string of explicits floated through her mind, though she didn’t dare utter any aloud. She craved to know your thoughts while mapping out her face with your stare.

And yes, it was childish to admit that she stared back, engaging you in a contest neither of you had partaken in since grade school. 

And yes, it was even more childish to admit the joy that she felt when you looked away, declaring her winner. 

“Why am I here, Riri?” 

Your eyes refused to meet hers, instead studying the march of people who passed by.

“I wanted to see an old friend. That a crime?” Riri’s voice was pitched high, her vocal cords tight. You could hear her throat bob with the lie just produced from it. The sound of your hum, the way she could feel it vibrate through the air- Bast, you weren’t supposed to have this effect on her. 

“An old friend?”

“Yes, an old friend.” Her answer was short, quick. You leaned forward just a tad, and Riri was back to silently cursing you.

Fuck you, man, fuck you. How dare you wear that top, that low-cut top, with the lace, the string, and the memories- the memories…

 Damn, you and that damn top. 

“Does Shuri know we’re old friends?” 

She didn’t. You knew she didn’t, and Riri did nothing but confirm that when she finally pulled her eyes away from you and tossed her head to the side. She stared off at nothing, face concealed by the braids that fell past her shoulders. Her jaw was tight, her eyes hung low, and guilt darkened her features. It was an emotion she’d grown used to feeling, one that she quickly swallowed away when your fingertips brushed her cheeks, pushing away her braided curtain. 

“I didn’t think so.”

Riri’s inhale was deep, shaky, and unsure, and her eyes welled behind what must’ve been a dozen- no, dozens- of thoughts. 

She was sinking in those thoughts, unmoving and unaware of your movements, until you stood before her with an outstretched hand. 

Not one word was spoken, but when the warmth of her hand rested in yours, it felt just like it had so many times before- it felt right.  

Riri let you lead her away, abandoning the table and taking up space in the family bathroom instead. Her feet moved independently, taking a few precautionary steps back while you turned the lock until it clicked. 

The tears dancing along the brim of her lids never fully evaporated, threatening to spill in streaks down her mahogany cheeks. Her eyes shifted, watching your curls bounce with the shake of your head and your back pressed against the wall adjacent to her with the cross of your arms. 

“C’mon, Ri, baby. You know I don’t do crying.” 

The floor was suddenly more interesting than the expression you were giving her. “My bad,” she mumbled, so low you barely caught it.

Something was looming over you, gluing you both in place. Riri didn’t dare move before you asked the question she knew was coming, and you didn’t dare move until she answered it. 

“How is Shuri?”

There it was. 

The broken piece that connected you two- the Princess of Wakanda. 

Your ex-girlfriend and Riri’s current one. 

Shuri was so fucking enticing, so goddamn alluring.

Y’know those picture-perfect relationships? The ones everyone envied that made them go, “They still together?” 

Those long, drawn-out relationships where you rarely saw one without the other, and they were so nauseatingly in love whenever you saw the two. 

Yeah, that was you and Shuri. Picture perfect for three long years. 

Perfectly in love, except for those nights when Shuri never came to bed, existing only in her lab.

You were perfectly in love, but she didn’t know how to interact with you when your mood changed, so she ignored you. 

So perfectly in love, but she was emotionally unavailable. 

You were still perfectly in love with her when the decision to end it crossed your mind; it took a full three months before you could do it. 

Still stupidly in love when she didn’t cry, didn’t blink. She’d kissed your cheek and walked off.

Still so stupidly in love when Riri reached out twelve months ago, two years post you and Shuri. How foolish were you to continue listening to her spill past “Me and Shuri been talking for a minute-”

You were stupidly in love and genuinely foolish to offer the girl some advice, to reveal your secrets on penetrating the impenetrable Shuri Udaku.

And yes, you were pretty stupid and foolish when the advice-seeking changed to the storytelling of shared experiences, sexual and non. It started so innocently; there was no reason it had to be a secret. 

But it was. And it worked in your favor when the locations became less and less public, and the experiences became more and more intimate. 

Every few weeks, you and Ri promised each other that that would be the last time. That last time had yet to come, and the actual last time the two of you met up as “old friends,” it concluded with her pussy in your mouth like it always did. 

This time was proving to end no differently.

“Shuri’s being Shuri,” the girl mumbled, her tiny body shrinking into itself even further. 

Hmm, she listened to you hum. “What’s new?”

“Not a damn thing.”

“And that’s a problem?”

“It is. Your advice isn’t working.”

You’d been taking very timid steps forward, closing the space between you until it no longer existed. Your faces were inches apart, and you caught a whiff of Riri’s scent, a fragrance you’d been missing- warm vanilla and spice. Cinnamon? Cardamom? You couldn’t figure it out, and some part of you didn’t want to; let it stay a mystery.

“Do you want my advice to work?” Truth be told, you didn’t. The advice you were giving her was sound, but on her own accord, Riri was fucking it up. Your advice working meant that this ended. 

And she wasn’t ready for it to end. 

Her lips didn’t offer the expected answer; you thought they’d part and she’d speak. Instead, they remained sealed and pressed harshly to yours. 

The kiss was desperate. You could only imagine that Shuri had only been pecking these lips briefly before disappearing for hours, maybe days on end; Riri needed this. 

She needed your mouth moving in tandem with hers. She needed you to taste her, to lick that breathy moan from her lips. 

So you did. And it was delicious. 

You kissed her with vigor, entangling your tongue with hers and trapping her head between the palms of your hands to hold her in place. 

Riri’s hands roamed, unsure of where to rest. They grabbed at your hips, squeezing and caressing until that didn’t feel right, so then they ran along your spine, pressing you further into her, but that wasn’t satiable either. 

Her movements were distracting and overwhelming. It was too easy for you to gather both her wrists in one of your hands and stretch them above her head, pinning them there. Your free hand rested on her hip, guiding her body until her back was met with a solid wall, encaging her between that and you. 

She had nowhere to move and nowhere to grab, and you were free to take her in as you pleased. 

Riri looked so pretty, hands pinned above her head, eyes blown with lust, lips parted with a gasp. Her vision blurred, eyes rolling back into her head with your lips pressed into her neck. You nipped and bit and licked away the sting of your bites. 

Beneath your touch, Ri’s hips shifted, her knees buckling. Her thighs pressed together, trying to ignore the growing slick between them.

“Do you want my advice to work, baby?”

She only moaned in response, with a long, drawn-out whine when your mouth left her skin. Your back straightened, forehead resting on hers while your fingers found the hem of her pants, teasing along them. 

“Talk to me, Ri; you ain’ never been this quiet. What do you want me to do, baby?”

Riri’s pretty head was swimming with thoughts that made no sense. She wanted you to touch her, to take her, to taste her. She tried to lose herself underneath your grasp; she wanted your name to roll off her tongue over and over and over until she came.

But deep down, a part of her wanted it to be Shuri she came apart for. 

Her deception of the Wakandan princess never got any easier, making this time no different than the last. Or the time before that, or the one before that-

Last time, Riri thought to herself. This will be the last time.

Ought to make it worth it.

Your fingers traced the little tuft of landing strip on Riri’s otherwise bare pussy- it was just how you liked it, which meant Shuri, indeed, hadn’t been down here in a while to notice. 

Her hips wiggled beneath you, urging you to go lower. 

“When was the last time you came, baby?” 

Riri stuttered through her response, “I-it’s been a couple days. M-my vibrator died, haven’t recharged it.”

“Oh, poor baby.” Your words muddied, lips returning to the crevice in Ri’s neck and refusing to leave. “When’s the last time she made you come?”

Riri’s chest rose with a deep inhale while the following exhale caught in her throat. Your name fell from her pretty lips, swollen from your kiss, with a long whine.

“Tell me, Ri.” Unfortunately for Riri, you were gonna get your answer one way or another. The electricity that shot through her body when you finally touched her clit felt so good it hurt. 

“Shit!” She hissed through clenched teeth. “Weeks, ma. It’s been weeks.” Her declaration was breathy, hard to admit with how your padded fingertips drew tight circles around her swollen bud. 

“Ohh, baby-” Goddamn, Riri hated how pity carried in your words. You were intentional with your antagonization, feeling the sorriness you felt for her in the pit of your stomach. “You need this then, huh?”

Riri tucked her lips away between her teeth. Her eyes were slits, and her muscles strained against you, wanting so badly to free herself from your cuffed hands so she could feel you. 

The spot beneath her ear lobe was susceptible, and as soon as your tongue grazed it, the poor girl’s knees buckled. Had it not been for your knee between her thighs, Riri would’ve collected in a puddle on the floor. 

“Tell me you need this, Riri.” You spoke with her earlobe between your teeth.

Not a decipherable thought was passing through Ri’s pretty head. The ability to speak a comprehensible sentence went as well, as evident by how she attempted to say, “I need this.” It came out slurred and broken, like an alcoholic who didn’t know when to stop. 

Her wish to be free was soon granted when you released her wrists, allowing blood flow to return through her arms. They fell to rest on the back of your head, pushing you further into her neck as though to suffocate you.

Her hips met yours, grinding harshly and drawing a coated chuckle from you. “Impatient thing.”

“I-I need this, ma,” she spoke then, explicitly.

“I know, baby,” you whispered for her ears and her ears only. You could feel the sigh of relief she released when your lips moved to her chest and down her sternum. Riri’s hands stayed tangled in your curls while yours ran along her sides.   

A shiver started in her tailbone and shot up her spine, curling her back and displaying the parts of her that your lips met. “Ohh,” even her exhales were sweet sounding.

Down her belly, your kisses continued, along her belly button, until you were face to face with her pelvis. Your thumbs hooked into the elastic of her waistband, pulling down slowly. Further down, her pants went until the tattoo on her hips was completely visible.

 Two little hearts, one on each hip. One black, one red, both nothing but line art because Riri wasn’t drunk enough to handle the pain. The matching pair to the red and black ones etched onto your skin in permanence in the same spot. 

A souvenir from your last last time. 

Riri drew in a shaky breath when your lips pressed against each heart, fitting perfectly into the shape like they were made for you.

They were.

“They healing so pretty, baby.”

The smirk that stretched across Riri’s face was purely seductive. “I know, right?”

“What she say bout them?” Your trail of kisses continued south until Riri’s pants piled around her ankles. 

Riri’s eyes shifted to the ceiling, her refusal to answer written all over her face. 

Her reaction was answer enough; Shuri probably hadn’t even noticed them. 

A heavy sigh expanded your lungs. “Oh, my baby,” your words were as smooth as your tongue, running across Riri’s clit with a quick swipe. Her moans were like music to your ears. They were deep and long; you would surely pull many more from her. 

“You don’t deserve that, baby.” Another drawn-out moan floated from her lips while yours attached to her clit, sucking like you’d been deprived. The sound that came from you shook her from the inside out. The moment the taste of her cunt landed on your tongue, your restraint snapped. You dug in, licking and lapping like it was the last taste you’d ever get. “Imma make it up to you.”

“Fuck, ma,” Riri was too loud for you to be in a public place, but for the time being, neither of you cared. Her fingers threaded through your kinks, tugging hard at your scalp. Her hips thrust, and her back arched, offering her pussy in its entirety to your mouth. 

Her body had already turned to mush beneath you, being held up only by your hands on her thighs. Your tongue flattened, spreading to lick as much of Riri as you could. Her swollen lips were slick with your spit and her wetness. The dampness continued like a river; the more you licked and lapped, the wetter she grew. Your mouth met every inch of her down there, your lips disappearing between hers before you came back up for air. 

“Shit, mami. Fuck-” The only words Riri could call out were the string of obscenities coming from her mouth. This feeling, this overwhelming heat she hadn’t felt in so long, felt so good. The type of warmth started in her cunt where your tongue worked her relentlessly and spread to her thighs, where your nails embedded into her flesh. It dug deep into her stomach, where her abs constricted, holding back the dam that would be her orgasm.

Not even the knocking at the door could pull either of you away from this moment. It barely pulled your mouth away from Riri long enough to yell, “Inna minute!” 

She was so close. You couldn’t abandon the girl now; push her to the edge and deal with the consequences later. 

And Bast, was she right on the fucking edge. Riri’s legs were shaking, her body trembling in your grasp, while hers was too tight on your head. Her pussy was fucking dripping, coating your nose and chin, and cheeks. Your lips enclosed around her clit while your head violently shook back and forth. Your tongue stroked the swollen bean slowly, a stark contrast with the quickness of the rest of your movements. Cum, you thought, as if Riri could read them. Fucking cum for me, drown me. 

Maybe Riri Williams was a telepath because, in the next second, you really were drowning beneath her. 

Riri was a mean squirter; the steady stream showed no mercy, barely allowing you time to tilt your head to catch every drop in your mouth instead of through your nostrils. 

She shook as if she were possessed, hands wrapped so tightly in your hair, you were sure she’d pulled a few strands out. You had no choice but to stay where you were and take it, repeatedly listening to your name fall from her tongue.

Her legs shook a little less, her grip a little looser, and though you had the strong desire to cough to clear your lungs of the cum that didn’t belong there, you weren’t ready for this to be over. Before Ri could come down fully, two of your fingers slipped into her dripping cunt with ease. 

“S-shit, ma, I can’t.”

“Safeword, Ri?” You pumped into her slowly, not wanting to rush this orgasm. You wanted to savor it.

“M-mami, I can’t.” Riri rolled her bottom lip between her teeth, a small string of saliva seeping through the corner of her mouth as she stared down at you.

“Say the safe word then, baby. I know you remember it; it’s the same every time.” Your fingers picked up speed just slightly before slowing back down. You were going to edge her to it this time. She had to earn it. 

Riri only whined in response, spreading her shaky legs even further for you.

“Say it, baby. Say the word, and I’ll stop.” Your free hand ran up and down her thigh, easily tracing along the suppleness. Hesitation flashed across her face, but only for a moment. 

She wasn’t going to let that safe word leave her lips. You knew she would if she needed to, but just like you, she fucking wanted this.

“I can’t, ma,” she huffed. 

“You can,” your lips planted along her inner thighs, coating them in her slick. “I know you can. Give me one more.”

Riri’s eyes locked on yours, giving you a slight nod. “One more?”

“Yeah, baby girl. Just one more.” Your fingers picked up speed, splashing her wet cunt even further, coating your forearm in her essence. 

“Shit” seemed to be her favorite word today because it was the only thing she could say from this point on. 

You continued plowing her pussy, whispering encouragement along the way. “That’s my girl” and “There you go, baby,” when her walls would tighten around you, making it hard for your thrusts to continue as they were. 

You could tell she was right there. Her breathing deepened, her moans picking up speed, all flowing into one another. “Cum for me, Riri.”

Her arms were sprawled against the wall behind her to keep her standing. She could only nod in response, her mouth wide open, eyes rolled back. Riri’s only focus then was doing what you asked, so she shut out the outside world. None of the noises of a busy mall, the distant knocking on the door, or the hand dryer whirring in the restroom next door mattered. Even her thoughts of Shuri were long gone. Only you and she were here in this moment as she came apart beneath your hand. 

The minute your fingers found that devilish curve striking her g-spot, Riri saw stars. Her vision went white, and her knees buckled with such force that you could only guide her as she fell so she wouldn’t get hurt.

To her knees she went, your hand on her back, holding her body to yours while your other hand still rested between her thighs, stroking her clit back and forth. “Ohhhh, shitttt-” she drew out between pursed lips. 

The sound of her cum splashing into a puddle grew the wet spot in your panties. “Good girl,” you whispered, trailing circles on her back while she came down. Riri’s chest heaved, her limbs feeling heavy, but she felt good for the first time in weeks. You pressed soft kisses into her temple, and she sunk beneath your touch, allowing the feeling to settle for a moment before speaking. 

You beat her to it, already knowing what she was going to say and not looking forward to the exact words she uttered each time-

“Last time?”

Riri looked into your eyes like she could see past them and directly into your soul. Some of you wished she could, so she could see how you felt. You wanted her to see that this wasn’t just a quick fuck for you. You wanted so badly to admit that your feelings for Shuri had never dissipated, and over time, feelings for Riri arose as well. How could they not? This girl who fell apart in your arms and let you take care of her, with whom you got matching tattoos. 

This girl who didn’t belong to you.

She wasn’t yours. 

And if Shuri were to find out?

Maybe it was best Riri couldn’t see into your soul, couldn’t read your mind. 

“Last time,” she replied finally, resting her forehead against yours. 

You had no idea how Riri was getting away with even texting you. You could only imagine that Shuri had really been checked out lately, too out of it to notice the hickeys that should have begun to heal over by now. 

Three weeks ago, she hadn’t even known about the hearts on Riri’s hips. She’d only recently come to discover them, and according to Riri, she’d only said “cute” and nothing else. 

Shuri had been emotionally absent when the two of you were together, but never this bad. Bast forbid, you get inked, and she not notice or come home decorated in love bites that weren’t from her. 

Poor Riri was being ignored as if she were a bother rather than a partner. She spent many a night FaceTiming you just to see you in the comfort of your own home, in a bed, she never got to share, in clothes that she wanted to rip to shreds. 

The days passed with hundreds of texts passed between the two of you like folded-over love notes between school girls and first crushes. They were about nothing, everything, anything just to get a response. When Riri wasn’t face first in her phone, she was dazed out, daydreaming about someone who wasn’t her partner.

And Shuri wasn’t stupid. 

She had no clue who was holding Riri’s attention when she wasn’t. And she hadn’t been lately, but she’d been busy. The lab needed work, it always needed work, and Shuri wasn’t going to wait until something needed to be improved to improve it. 

Admittedly, Shuri hadn’t given Riri much attention lately. It may have been a couple of weeks since they had a date night—a few nights since Shuri joined Riri in bed instead of falling asleep in her lab. 

And while Riri used to be in Shuri’s ear about it, she hadn’t been lately. The thought that maybe Riri had been getting attention elsewhere crossed Shuri’s mind once or twice, but she quickly shook it away. 

Because there was no way. Nah, not her Riri. Her girl was loyal, a bit needy, but only for her. 

But the thought kept nagging at the princess. It brought forth memories of her previous relationship, and with the memories came a hurt that she hadn’t felt in quite some time. 

She hadn’t allowed herself the space to process the end of your relationship. You left. It was that simple. If you wanted to throw away three years, then fine. Who was she to fight you on it?

Did it hurt like hell when you left? Hell, yeah.

Did her throat burn with the tears she wouldn’t let escape? Absolutely.

She watched you pack your bags and heard your voice break when you told her you couldn’t do this anymore. 

She remembers that stupid, stupid kiss she planted on your cheek when you walked out and how badly she just wanted to grab you, entrap you in her arms, and beg you to stay. 

But she let you go. So she couldn’t be mad at anybody but herself when you didn’t respond to her texts afterward. 

Or her calls. 

Suddenly, your social media profiles no longer appeared when she searched for you. 

She only had your address, which she’d gotten from a young Dora she assigned to keep an eye on you. Yes, it was weird, maybe borderline stalkerish, but she just wanted to know you were okay and would be okay in this big, bad world, all alone. 

Every few weeks, the juvenile warrior would return to her, eyes cast down and full of answers. 

“She okay?” 

“Yes, My Princess.”

A moment of awkward silence passed before Shuri spoke again. 

“What has she been up to?”

“She’s taken up reading again-” The Dora paused, a small smile finding her cheeks. Faint memories of you spending hours in the library flashed through her mind, reading to anyone who’d come just to hear you narrate, her included. 

“Good,” Shuri’s voice trailed, the same memory playing through her thoughts. 

Another moment of silence, this one less awkward. 

“Is she- she seeing anyone?” Shuri hesitated to ask, unsure if she wanted to know the answer, but what she wasn’t expecting was her young spy’s hesitation as well. 

Shuri gulped, though it was a struggle with how her throat dried. “Well?”

The Dora’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, her eyes searching for anything in the room to focus on that wasn’t Shuri. 

“She is, isn’t she?”

The adolescent winced, unsure of how to answer.

“Who is it?”

At that moment, Riri’s nearly silent footsteps startled them both. She walked quickly into the room, standing just before Shuri to declare, “I’m going out,” before parting with a kiss and disappearing around the same corner from which she appeared. 

Shuri hadn’t even had time to ask questions before Riri was gone, and when she looked back up at the Dora, she saw her eyes stuck to a retreating Riri. 

When she noticed the princess staring at her, she threw her gaze to the ground, attempting to hide the width her eyes had grown to. 

Shuri looked to the door Riri walked through and back to the Dora, struggling to hide a guilt that wasn’t hers. 

One eyebrow drew to the top of her forehead, silently asking the question that wouldn’t pass her lips. 

“Lemme get that address, please.” 

You approached your front door with a goofy grin plastered across your face. You were so engrossed with the texts from Riri and her promise to be over soon that you didn’t notice your misplaced welcome mat or the plant next to it that somebody dug into. 

The phone was still in hand when you walked into a dark apartment and threw your keys to the counter before hitting the light switch. 

The scream erupted from your body was loud enough for your neighbors to call the cops had they been home. 

Seated on your couch as if she lived there, swirling a cup of whiskey in her hand, sat the Wakandan Princess. 

You hadn’t seen her in so long- her hair was still shaved on the sides, but the top was grown enough to be cornrowed straight against her scalp. 

Besides that, Shuri still looked like Shuri, with a jawline sharp enough to cut through glass, set tight with clenched teeth. 

“Shuri?! What the fuck?”

She swallowed the remnants of her drink before responding. She couldn’t look at you; she needed the alcohol to be her liquid courage. 

“You keep the spare in the same place you kept it when we met.”

Her voice ran over you like fucking silk. The accent, the softness with which she spoke, it was your kryptonite. You wouldn’t be able to stand your ground if you listened to her talk; it's why you were partially thankful she remained silent through your breakup. 

It was a struggle to keep your voice even or your tone steady. “That don’t mean you can use it.”

Shuri stood, towering over you the way she always had, even from across the room. Standing gave you a good look at her and how her clothes hugged her body. The cream-colored button-up was unbuttoned down to her navel, allowing you a sneak peek at the black bra she wore beneath it and the collection of chains hanging on her neck. Her sleeves were rolled halfway up her arm, displaying her veiny hands that held an exhibition of rings adorning her slender fingers. 

The shirt was untucked, paired with a baggy pair of black cargo pants, and her shoes had been discarded next to your front door.

If she were to break into your home, the least she could do was respect it. 

Shuri finally willed her eyes up from the floor to take you in. She practically growled at the sight before her- you, a mass of curls tied atop your head in a cropped bandeau top with pierced nipples peeking through. The curve of your ass was barely contained in the bottoms you wore as shorts that could’ve passed as underwear with the way your thighs sucked in the fabric. 

“Where are you coming from dressed like that?”

You looked down at your appearance, seeing no problem with it. “I was running errands-”

Your sentence ended with a gasp, feeling the heat from Shuri’s body mix with yours as she walked you backward until your back pressed against your door. 

“You leaving the house dressing like this now?” Her face was close to yours, too close. You barely had time to process what was happening, eyes wide and frantic, breathing sporadic. 

Comprehendible thoughts were hard to come across, but some didn’t believe this was happening. Shuri, whom you hadn’t spoken to in a year, was standing before you, looking like she wanted to rip to shreds the clothes she criticized. 

And she did. Her hands found her pockets before they reached to touch a part of you she feared you didn’t want to be touched. 

“I know I taught you better than that,” Shuri whispered, her lips too close to your ear. 

“I-” Your gulp was audible, and the princess watched it, wanting to trace the trail it traveled. “Wha-what are you doing here, Shuri?”

A rapid succession of taps sounded at the door behind you, and your heart leaped to your throat. Shuri’s hands found their way to your waist and sunk in, pulling you so your back kissed her front. Her fingers dug into your skin, drawing a pained moan from you that grew in volume when her lips brushed against your ear. 

“Better question, y/n. Why my girl bout to walk through your door?”

Arousal pooled in the pit of your stomach, your head whipping to look Shuri in her face with wide eyes. Your heart pounded when a chuckle fell from her lips. “Well? Let her in.”

Your hands wouldn’t move; your brain told them to, yet they stayed glued by your side. Shuri was here, standing behind you, pressed against you. Your body fit against hers perfectly, like the missing piece in an incomplete puzzle, and it was a feeling you’d missed-

And on the other side of the door was Riri, whose body fit to yours like a puzzle piece. Poor Riri was about to walk into all hell breaking loose in your tiny apartment. The first thing she would see when you opened the door would be her Shuri with her arms wrapped around your waist, one hand settling into the flesh on your hip while the other trailed so lightly along your thigh, it was torturous. 

Shuri’s fingers played with the lack of fabric covering your thighs, her mouth still close to your ear. “You’ll tell me if you don’t want this? If you don’t want me touching you?” Her voice was much softer, dripping in sincerity. 

You nodded in response. 

“Do you want me touching you, y/n?”

Her hand abandoned your waist, climbing upward to your neck, where she tapped lightly at your throat. Your words she needed you to use your words. You remembered how she would tap at your throat so many years ago and how it meant the same thing then that it had now. She remembered-

“Touch me, Shuri.”

Mm, she hummed, kissing the space behind your ear. “My girl-” The finger on your throat turned into fingers around it, not choking, but pressing your body further into hers, holding your head to look directly at the door and nowhere else. “Now, open the door.”

Your brain made your hands obey this time, and with a shaky hand, the knob turned, and the door opened, and what a fucking sight it was. 

Riri’s eyes widened, taking it all in. Shuri, staring directly into her eyes, holding your practically naked body against her with one hand at your throat and the other on your thigh. You, eyes blown with lust and fear, hands hanging lamely at your sides, and lips caught between your teeth. 

And on the opposite end, Riri, eyes grown several sizes, mouth wide open with a gasp. “Wha-”

Shuri released your throat, extending the free hand to a confused Riri. “C’mere, baby.”

Riri hesitated, and Shuri’s already dark eyes darkened even further. “Come here,” she commanded. 

The more petite girl of the three obeyed, stepping into your home and closing the door behind her. “What are you doing here-?” She asked Shuri.

“I should be asking you the same thing, shouldn’t I, Ri?”

Riri stood silent, allowing Shuri to pull her in until you were both wrapped in Shuri’s arms. “I didn’t even know you knew Y/n. How you know Y/n, Riri?”

Riri didn’t speak, didn’t even meet Shuri’s gaze.

“Y/n, how you know Riri?”

Riri felt ice flow through her veins when you responded, “She’s an old friend.”

An insincere chuckle left Shuri’s lips as she released the both of you, returning to the couch. “An old friend?”

“Yes,” you responded slowly. 

“Mhm,” Shuri’s lips were tucked thin. 

“You know, don’t you?” Riri’s small voice fell to the forefront. “You the smartest person in the country, so I know you know.”

“Know what?” 

“That I’ve been fucking your girl-” Firey confidence fueled your words, thrown harshly at the princess. She should’ve winced beneath them, but instead, she sat forward, elbows resting on her knees, eyes glued to your perfect face. 

“Have you?” she taunted.

“Mhm,” You stepped toward her, stopping until you rested between her manspread legs. “Better than you have, too.”

Shuri’s smirk irritated you, and it bothered you even more how sexy it looked-

Her hands quickly reached behind your knees, forcing them to buckle until you straddled her lap. “Have you?”

Her fast movements wavered your cockiness, but only for a moment. Riri stood in the same spot, feeling a warmth build in her belly and an ache spread between her legs at the sight before her. Shuri laid back on the couch, holding your thighs while you sat with one on each side of her hip. 

Simply put, it was hot. 

“I have. Pussy so good, she trims it how I like-”

Shuri’s eyes dart towards Riri before settling back on you. “I-”

You lean forward, not allowing her a moment to speak. “I fuck her so good, she got my tats.”

Shuri’s brows raise to the top of her face, full of amusement. “Oh, really?”

Shuri’s chin rests on your finger, drawing her gaze upward until your eyes lock on one another. “She calls me mami.”

Riri is a blushing mess in the corner, hands clasped together, eyes on the ground. She refuses to look at Shuri, though she knows Shuri is looking at her. 

Only when Shuri speaks does Riri’s gaze rise, surprise scrunching her features together. “Show me.”

“Show you what?”

“Show me how good you fuck her.” Shuri taps the back of your thighs, signaling you to stand before crossing the room to an awaiting Riri. 

“Can she, baby?” Riri’s mind is a mess, and so are her panties.

She nods, lips still parted, eyes still as wide as saucers, and it takes a glare from Shuri for her to learn her manners and speak. “Y-yeah.”

Shuri kisses her forehead gently before bending at the waist to kiss her lips. “Good girl, Ri.”

She taps Riri’s butt roughly, watching it bounce in her hand. “Go ask her.”

Shuri retreats to the couch once more, arms spreading across the back of the cushions. Riri looks so cute, walking to you like her feet are made of lead, and you’re almost sure she won’t even be able to get the question out. 

To your surprise, Riri’s hands fly to your hips, massaging the space where your hearts sit before lowering them to cup your ass. Your cheeks spill over her hands, and she moans at the feel. “Will you fuck me, ma?”

A small smile plays on your lips at the eager girl. “You little exhibitionist. You like that she’s watching?”

Riri turns to look at Shuri with her bottom lip between her teeth as she nods. She turns back to you with wide eyes, and you hold her head in both hands before leaning slightly to kiss her hard. 

“Then let’s give her a show.”

She moans into the kiss, and you sink into her mouth, loving the feel of her tongue grazing yours. The kiss is deep, wet, indeed the kiss of two people deprived of this feeling. 

Riri’s hands stay on your behind, gathering the fabric of your shorts in her hand and hiking them up until your ass spills from under them. She runs her fingers along the softness, squeezing and gripping so hard, you’re sure she’ll leave marks. 

Your hands find the hem of her shirt and pull it over her head, flinging it in Shuri’s direction with discard. The hook and clasp of her bra are easy to release; you’d had weeks to perfect it. The bra gets thrown at Shuri as well, who’s seated enjoying the strip show, trying hard to ignore her wetness. 

Riri’s breasts are small and perky and fit perfectly in your mouth. Her nipples stiffen at the pass of your tongue, and her moan sounds so sweet when your teeth graze her.  You two are caught in a trance until Shuri speaks, “Take off her pants.”

So you do. Your thumbs hook in Riri’s waistband, tongue never leaving her chest while she uses your shoulders to balance, stepping out of her pants, one leg at a time. 

“Turn her around,” Shuri commands once more, and with your hands on Riri’s hips, you rotate her body so her back and ass are all Shuri sees. 

“Get up, bend her over.”

Riri’s breast leaves your mouth with a pop, and you stand fully, walking behind the small girl and bending her at the waist. “Eat her.”

“Just getting right into it, huh?” You tease, fingers running up and down Riri’s round ass as you fall to your knees behind her, inhaling her scent. Your mouth waters, and you waste no time licking a stripe from her clit to her ass.

“Oh, fuck-” Riri moans beneath you, pressing her cunt further into your face.

Your tongue meets her with vigor, licking along her slit with a moan. “You taste so fucking good.” Your hands find a cheek in each hand, separating them so Riri’s on full display for you, her delicious cunt glistening for you. Her knees are already shaking.

Shuri watches as you slurp and suck, remembering how your tongue used to feel against her. Her eyes are glued to your mouth on Riri, never abandoning her pussy for long, but sure not to have her ass feel neglected, either. She drools when you spit on Riri’s asshole, prepping it to take the finger you’re about to fuck her with. 

And she watches Riri’s back arch, and her moans fall, “Oh, fuck, ma-” when she takes your index finger in her ass so fucking well. Your mouth continues working her cunt, lapping like you’ve been starving. Your cheeks and chin are slick with Riri’s wetness, and your jaw is growing tired. 

“Fuck, mami, fuck.”

“Are you gonna cum, Ri, baby?” Shuri’s voice carries from her place in the room.

Riri nods before correcting herself. “Yeah, yeah, I’m gonna cum.”

Shuri stands, watching you momentarily, before pulling you away from Riri’s pussy by your hair. Her hand raises and drops against Riri’s ass harshly, with a spank that could be heard several blocks away. “Don’t,” she commands before turning to you and entangling your tongues. 

She’s tasting Riri from your mouth while you swallow her moans, enjoying the taste of her.

Shuri found herself caught up in how your mouth moved, how your lips moved in sync, and your tongues found nothing but each other. It was a feeling you’d both missed, and you could have stayed there for hours just kissing each other had Riri not whimpered at the sight in the background. 

“Fuck,” you whispered when Shuri pulled away, her eyes landing on Riri. The tiny girl’s nimble fingers were going to work on her clit, her arm on the table being the only thing holding her up. 

“Needy bitch-” Shuri whispered back, and you felt your clit twitch behind your thin panties. “You got a strap, baby?”

You realized she was addressing you, and your body responded once more. You nodded slowly, eyes stuck on Shuri, and she tilted her head at you. “Go grab it.” And you held your breath as she leaned in, kissing you softly. 

When you returned with your favorite dildo and the strap to match, Riri was coming apart with Shuri’s fingers buried in her pussy. 

She was already squirting, making a massive mess in your living room, but Shuri didn’t let up. “There you go, baby, look at you. Good fucking girl,” she growled, and her words traveled straight to your cunt as if she were speaking to you. And she might have been when she turned to look at you, still pumping Riri when she uttered, “My girl.”

Shuri only removed her hand from between Riri’s legs when you approached, holding the harness out to her. Her fingers moved to unbutton the rest of her shirt, and she leaned forward, pressing her lips against yours again. “Put it on for me.”

She loved it when you strapped her up. It was the sexiest sight to see you on your knees, securing every strap to her muscular thighs with her cunt straight in your face. 

It was an intimate moment between you two to shed her pants from her waist and toss them aside while she stepped into the harness. You slid it up her thighs, pulling the straps until it was tight around her hips and waist, and secured the pink toy where it belonged, all without breaking eye contact. 

Riri watched with her head tilted to the side, still bent over the table. Her breath caught in her throat, anxious to see where this moment between her two lovers led-

But of course, it was Shuri who pulled away. Once the harness was strapped in place, she pulled her gaze away from you, walking back to where Riri was waiting, her cunt still dripping. 

Shuri lined the head of the faux dick up with Riri’s slit, having to use every muscle in her abdomen to resist slipping right in. “Mm,” Riri hummed, eyes closed, lips tucked. 

“It’s been a minute, baby.” Shuri bent into the curve of Riri’s body, planting kisses on her shoulders and down her spine. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ohhhh-” Shuri’s thrust cut off Riri’s sentence. The dildo’s entire length was swallowed up by Riri’s tiny cunt, and it was a delicious sight. Shuri bottomed out, allowing her pelvis to kiss Ri’s before pulling out and thrusting again before the poor girl had time to adjust. 

“Oh, fuck, mami-” Shuri pulled out and thrust again, this time even harder.

She couldn’t feel Riri like she could with her dildos, but she knew her cunt was tight. The dildo was met with resistance upon each thrust, though she splashed a little more each time. 

“Fuck!” Riri cried out, gripping the ends of the table with all her strength. You sat on the couch and watched, amazed at how the lengthy toy disappeared to the hilt within Riri’s walls. 

“Yeah, baby. You taking me so well,” Shuri moaned out, digging her nails into Riri’s backside. 

Riri wouldn’t last long; you both knew it. She’d barely had time to come all the way down from her first orgasm, and this one would hit her like a train. Each time Shuri pulled out, you heard Riri squirt just a little more, pushing Shuri further and further out, so each thrust back in was hasher. 

“Look at you, Riri, goddamn baby,”

Her moan in response was incoherent. 

“You gonna make a mess, aren’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” Riri whined.

“Good girl,” Shuri’s thrusts had slowed significantly; Riri’s little cunt trapped her. “You right there, aren’t you?” 

“Uh-huh,” she drew out once more. 

“Go ahead, baby.” Shuri reached over Riri’s body, finding her swollen clit and flicking it with a vengeance. “Let it out.”

Riri didn’t need to be told twice. With a shriek, she was coming all over your floor, covering Shuri’s hand. “There you go, baby, look at you. Good girl.”

Riri was loud, her thighs trembling, her words shaky. “Fuck, fuck, fuck-” Shuri hadn’t let up on her clit yet, and the overstimulation brought her to tears.

“Fucking good girl-”

“Shit!” Riri cried. “Mercy! Mercy-” 

And Shuri’s hand was off of Ri like a repellent. She took Riri’s face in her hands, grazing it with concern. “You okay, baby?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Riri replied. It came out breathless. “Just need a minute-”

Shuri nodded, kissing Riri quickly. “Okay, ma.”

They both turned to glance at you, amused to see you were in your own world, fueled by theirs. Your fingers were pumping furiously into your cunt, legs drawn back so it was on display. Your pretty eyes were squeezed shut, head thrown back.

Shuri’s mouth watered at the way your cream collected around the base of your fingers, needing to get a taste-

“Go take care of her,” Riri whispers with a nod in your direction. Shuri nods, kissing Ri’s head quickly before allowing her feet to bring her to you. 

Your eyes shoot open with the feel of hands wrapping around your thighs. You find yourself staring face to face with Shuri lining the glistening pink dildo up with your own wet entrance. Her breathing is heavy, chest rising and falling rapidly. 

“Can I-?” She trails off, unsure of how to finish the question. 

Your arms wrap around her neck, and your legs lift higher, parting further. “Fuck me.”

That’s all the permission Shuri needed, and she watches in lust love when your head falls back against the couch. 

You feel every divet of the dildo parting your walls, and you’d felt it before, but this time felt so much better. A gasp falls from your lips when Shuri’s pelvis touches yours, and you lift your head to watch her pull out and thrust back in. 

She’s moving slower than she was with Riri. Her eyes never leave your face, watching as ecstasy writes itself across your features. “Y/n,” she stutters with a gasp. Your eyes meet hers again, watching her intensely. 

“I-I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I should’ve never let you go-”

Your hand reaches up to graze her cheek, and she leans into the delicate touch, relishing in the sound of your moans as her thrusts pick up speed. “I’ve missed you so much,” Shuri admits. 

The words are hard to get out through moans, but you do. “Then fuck me like you missed me.”

And she does. 

[mirroredmemoriez]

More Denlon Thoughts

From finally posting my comparison down below about the Denlon's and John, it made me spiral even more into them.

I have said it there above and I'll say it again- Jeff's test in my eyes accounted the fact his grief would slow him down. John wouldn't have of wanted him to be able to speed through it, especially due to the fact he's getting improv brain surgery. There was a bit of a reliance on the fact that Jeff wouldn't complete his test like, halfway through Lynn's. Which, I believe sometimes the fandom doesn't think about? Yes he's, ''Slow Ass Motherfuckin Jeff.'' However, if he wasn't Saw 3 would've been way shorter- Like imagine he showed up before Amanda was having her full blown breakdown? And or mid brain surgery. Another thing I mentioned is the fact that in comparison, Lynn is handling her test much better than her husband... And in turn this actually makes him seem even MORE slow than before. What we have to think about here is though, Lynn was not dubbed the ''best'' in regards to her medical pursuits for no reason. The playing field is working way more with her, the biggest stress and issue Lynn faces whilst going through her test is Amanda. Otherwise, if you took that factor out? Yes she may be using shit like a power drill but Lynn is a fucking amazing doctor. We get to see this even before she was kidnapped because it can be said she should've been there sooner, but when she helped that patient in the hospital she literally stabilised him in almost a minute flat whilst disregarding the other doctors inputs.

Lynn's test doesn't have her constantly facing her own grief and in comparison to Jeff? We don't know whether or not she even holds a shred of need for vengeance like he does. The most we know about the impact it has had on her, is she's now addicted to anti-depressants, neglects Corbett and her marriage is so fractured she's having an affair. One thing I'll hone on in here is the child neglect... We don't get to see the way Lynn does that as much as we do Jeff. The assumption is her long work hours and being out well... Having that affair! But also how active would Lynn have been in her children's lives even prior to Dylan's death? She to me is the main ''breadwinner'' let's say and Jeff is more so the one who is regularly looking after the children, because Lynn is a literal brain surgeon where generally surgery can last from 3-5 hours to even 5-7! How much did her role as a parent change when Dylan died in regards to how active she is in Corbett's life?

Shuffling back to the games- It's also such an interesting concept to think of Lynn going through Jeff's test, I stated this before in my previous post but it's still an ever running thought for me. Jigsaw tests tend to always be specifically designed for the person within them- In the Denlon's case they're being tested for almost the exact same reason... They are husband and wife after all. So although I don't think that means oh yeah they can be inter switched! Everything is still very close to home for the both of them. Like if Lynn was face to face with Timothy Young the way Jeff was, that is the man who killed her son. Mistake or not. It's whether or not she can or wants to forgive. Lynn in theory and I guess also in practice really, is good at detaching her emotions from what is at hand. Does she like John? No- But will she ignore that in favour of living? Yes! The same way possibly in her career she has had to save the lives of people morally she doesn't agree with. However, as previously mentioned- This is so much more closer to home. So does that all go out the window for her? We just don't know.

I'll stop here for now because I'm a mad man who rambles too much- Thanks for reading if you've got this far down! -MAL OUT

[ronearoundblindly]

You really got to start limiting my asks lol

V or Z for Johnny or Lloyd

-👜

WHAT?! I have to CHOOSE?? How unfair...

FINE.

I will choose one of each because that's totally how that was supposed to go.

From this dirty ask game and not for all ages, folks. MINORS DNI.

V - Voyeurism

If you're shocked this man likes an audience, then I can't help you.

YA BLIND, GURL. YA NOT LISTENING.

Johnny lives for the showmanship. In fact, I think it's a big part of the experience of sex with him overall. That's his way of awakening the senses, basically. He points out how hard you make him. He makes a little extra noise in your ear. He kinda narrates what you doing something does to him: touching yourself, looking at him, your scent, what you sound like, etc.

Man loves to hear himself talk, yes, but it's mighty delightful--and actually lightens the mood when/if you're feeling self-conscious.

Johnny enjoys all forms of voyeurism, too. He wants the sneaky nudes and vids you send him. He hoards the ones he takes. There's been at least one time where he faked being asleep when you were clearly needy beside him and listened intently to you using a toy on yourself. Mostly, he's proud of himself for not breaking the act, turning over, and fucking you into the mattress. He couldn't figure out a way to reach his phone and record the audio though. Shame.

I'd go so far as to say watching is a big part of foreplay to Mr. Storm because when he gets his hands on you, it's more wild and rushed than you might imagine...

Z - Zones

Lloyd Motherfuckin Hansen, you totally gorgeous asshole. We know you play constant games. We know you like to trick people.

I don't know that Lloyd gets enjoyment from the physical sensation of any part of his body... This man enjoys the symbolism of where you kiss more than anything else.

Treat him like a king. Kiss his feet or the ring on his finger. Drop to your knees and take his cock deep in your throat. Show him he owns you. Show him you're his slave. That's the way to this guy's black, charred, and pissed-on heart.

You'd be surprised at how many typical-affections turn him off or make him angry, actually, so he'll let you grope at him and dig your nails into his back but kissing along his body in the heat of the moment--i.e. if he has not ordered you to do so--will get you shoved away or smacked across the face.

I don't make them rules. That's Lloyd. That's just straight up Lloyd. He bites you. You do not bite him.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[diabolocracy]

"Problematique media bad because it harms people because mentally ill people or children might read it and try to do it :("

Let's ban Superman, then, since there are many kids who have leapt from high heights trying to fly because they saw him do it in comics or on the teevee. (Fun fact, dunno if it's national, but at least one Canadian province already technically has a ban on all comics/stories of that nature for the reasoning of "someone blamed these stories for their own chosen actions". Not that anyone enforces it, buuuut...)

Let's also ban anime. Remember that (unsupervised, might I say) kid that buried his head in the sand and died because he wanted to be like Gaara from the Narutos? No? Well now you know about it.

Oh, what's that? You like Superman? You like anime...? You don't want these things banned because some people are stupid and failed to give their children the "don't try to replicate what you see/read in fiction" talk? Too bad! Blanket ban!! For the good of the people who clearly cannot be trusted to teach their kids or take care of their mentally ill family!!!

While I'm on this rant,

"Problematique media bad because people can use it to groom others :("

As many people have pointed out time and time again, people who groom kiddies IRL use candy, cute animals, and other small gifts (if they don't just grab Little Timmy and pull him into their car in a drive-by abduction).

Let's ban candy! Let's ban cute animals! Let's ban plush toys, comic books, and all other little nick-knacks because again, people cannot be trusted to supervise or otherwise look after their own children or even provide their brats the most basic safety talks!

"But when I was a kid I thought [thing] was okay because I read about it in a fanfic :("

Well, buttercup, sorry to tell you this, but your parents and teachers all failed you! :) Perhaps this blame can even extend to the government, because when I was growing up there were PSAs on the television about NOT REPLICATING THINGS YOU SEE ON TV OR READ ABOUT IN FICTIONAL STORIES.

EDUCATION IS SUPERIOR TO BANNING.

EDUCATION IS SUPERIOR TO MAKING STRANGERS OR THE GOVERNMENT BABYSIT YOU OVER MOTHERFUCKIN' STORIES.

And that doesn't even stop at all this bullshit about problematique fiction! Unfortunately, rational human beings with a brain have to co-exist with idiots too uncurious and too stupid to learn about anything that makes them personally uncomfortable (like republicans and conservatives and TERFs and neo-nazis and, yes, fanpol, you too--I'd go so far as to call you guys "useful idiots" like fellow queers who fell for the "LGB drop the T" attempt to divide and conquer the queer community bullshit perpetrated by the Christian right and no that is not a bullshit conspiracy theory)!

🙂Anyway, back to making cookies run. Bye

[neodreamgirl]

SEUNGHANNNNNN NOOOOOOO

I'M SO PISSED WHAT THE FUUUUUCK

This is insanity!!! I was on weverse just YESTERDAY and I was screenshotting the crazy comments and posts made by ot6 because they were so laughable. How you gonna take THESE BITCHES SERIOUSLY?

I have so many words I don't even know where to start like what the fuck

I was so excited to start stanning again! Now, I had to delete their most recent music off of my apple music. I rewatched the siren dance practice of when Josh Price was teaching them the choreo. It's one of their most memorable behind the scenes videos. This shit is so sad. Oh my goodness...

When I was on weverse, I noticed that if you scroll down the feed you'll see 5 ot7 stans, and then 2 ot6 stans. How the hell does one make the decision to kick him out because of a minority? I'm so confused. The other 6 members are in Madrid (I think). Who did Seunghan deliberate with about this?

I understand if he saw all the hate and decided it was time to go. I understand, I do. He's the one receiving all the hate but this is not his fault. The psychopaths are at fault here; never him nor RIIZE. I can't even fathom the impact this has had on his mental health. I genuinely am hoping that he still sees his worth as a person. I genuinely hope he understands that these people are crazy and that he is the victim. He is not the villain and he genuinely has so many supporters that want to see him thrive in this life and the next. But I just feel like he was probably pressured to leave

Listen...All this deliberating for the past 11 months and not one conversation about how to deal with the inevitable backlash? Are you kidding me? Please be so fucking serious. HYPOTHETICALLY SPEAKING, if seunghan approached management about leaving the group, they had to sit him down and tell him that they got him. That they understand the hate can be disheartening, discouraging, and distasteful, but that they will handle it. They would look for resources that will help him mentally, take away social media access from him so that he doesn't see the hate, talk about how they gradually plan on integrating him into the group. If he wishes there could be any accomodations, they'll grant them. They needed to tell him that they don't want to let him go so easily because they believe in his talents, potential, and rightful spot in RIIZE. They had to make him feel worthy. They had to encourage him to deal with the backlash because he wouldn't be dealing with it alone. They would hire more security so that when they go out at airports and such, he can feel safe. Management had to reassure him that there will be official statements made defending him and if legal actions must be sought, then they will FUCKING SEEK THEM. I DON'T GET IT. I feel like they forced him to leave idk

DAMN. THE OFFICIAL SM ACCOUNT COULD HAVE RELEASED A STATEMENT SAYING THAT THEY STAND TEN TOES DOWN ON WHAT THE FUCK THEY SAID BECAUSE SEUNGHAN BELONGS IN THE MOTHERFUCKIN GROUP AND ANY SHITTY UNWASHED BOOTY CHEEKS HAVING ASS BITCH THAT GOT SOMETHING TO SAY ABOUT IT CAN REFER THEIR COMMENTS TO SM'S FUCKIN LAWYER. THE FUCK YOU MEAN. I'M SIIIIICK AS HELL. SICK TO MY FUCKIN STOMACH

What kills me is that the 6 other members wanted him integrated into the group. They wanted to work with him. They wanted to experience idol life with their BROTHER. The mf they trained with for YEARS. This is soooo unfair. I literally cannot believe this shit. All you stupid bitches that were against the boycott and made assumptions that maybe we ot7 hoes were wrong about RIIZE wanting Seunghan back can kiss my fuckin ass. This is your fault, too, by the way. You're a stupid ass bitch. What the hell made you think these niggas didn't want him back into the group? What the fuck made you think they thought this was fair? Speak INTO the mic, bitch.

A lot of you were not willing to fight for Seunghan. Maybe you thought it wasn't that big of a deal, which is odd considering his circumstances, but you're a bitch. I'm like 10000% sure that boycotting the group would have done him and his FORMER members a whole lot of good. A lot of you were too pussy....I would like to think that perhaps I'm wrong and that the only reason you continued stanning was because you had hope he would return and that their management wasn't unfair trash. I don't know...

OT7 BRIIZE...we have gone THROUGH it this past year. Like I am so sorry that we had to go through any of this nonsense. This is absolutely insane. The emotional rollercoasters from 2023 after his hiatus was announced. Articles having to be deleted, edited and re-released without his name. That shit happened about 108912 times. The random sightings of him this year looking at the messages we left him, all while the company nor the members mentioned him. The random spaces the members would leave during their performances. The videos of the members reading RIIZE IS 7 signs and reacting positively going viral online like what the fuck. Also, I can't help but feel like this isn't over...

I don't know...Am I trippin? Seunghan has so many supporters I highly doubt that those that can afford to send trucks and shit will stay quiet. Many people actually find this whole situation extremely unfair. It's not even because it's seunghan but because this is literally awful. People have been very vocal about how the handling of this situation was pure shit...that's not going to stop now. Many non-BRIIZEs have commented about how Kpop companies always side with the K-fans and never pay attention to international fans. Many of them applied that opinion to this situation in particular. They're not wrong, either. I saw that some weird ass SM employees were on a message board where they can post anonymously. They said they were against the integration of Seunghan in the group because of the backlash they would receive, but the backlash was strictly from Chinese and Korean fans. But those people were only a select few. Many Chinese and Korean fans like Seunghan just as much as western fans do.

Why do I feel like RIIZE is going to do something? Wonbin spoke up but his post got deleted. There are some recent airport pics where they look absolutely distraught after this announcement was made. This is what I mean when I say this isn't over LMAO. I think this will only get worse. Kpop is no longer just a cute little niche thing in Korea. This industry reaches overseas. These idols are slowly finding their place in the western market because as we have seen through the success of BTS, western award shows are starting to award kpop music. There is a place for them here.

I wouldn't be surprised that if the reaction of OT7 BRIIZE sends RIIZE into a hiatus. As I was thinking this, I learned that some people have been making comments about RIIZE disbanding to prove a point to these crazy fans and SM. I don't know if they would actually do that, but I doubt that they're going to just let this happen.

I actually genuinely believe him leaving was a bad idea lmao I'm not just saying that as a fan but because too many people already thought the situation was unfair. In his defense, having so many people talk crazy to you would be enough to push anyone to get away. However, the people he spoke to about this failed to realize (like how is your brand RISE and REALIZE and you fail to rea--nvm) that the idea of him leaving or getting kicked out was the reason for the controversy in the first place. People didn't want to see him go on a freaking hiatus what the fuck made you think they would want to see him permanently leave the group? Are you stupid...this is what I mean like if he was genuinely trying to protect RIIZE's brand, the people should have told him that leaving will have the opposite effect. They should have encouraged him to sing and dance with his fans and fuck the haters in the ass.

We can all expect this to get more coverage. Expect 14232 trucks and banners sent to SM. Expect statements after statements. Honestly, you could even expect him to be integrated into the group again. That's how fucked this company is. With enough backlash, this could happen. I'm so serious.