#+ is gonna send me into an early fucking grave
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absolutely fucking insane to me how being against the unabashed publishing of LITERAL CHILD PORN OR BLATANTLY RACIST CONTENT (or BOTH at the same time) is the hot topic of the moment about AO3. the people clamoring for that tiffany g girl to get the boot from the board are freaks of fucking nature and make me embarrassed to even share an online space with you braindead fucks
#y'all and you're stupid posts comparing the censorship of gay media to BANNING ACTUAL CP ABOUT REAL OR FICTIONAL KIDS +#+ is gonna send me into an early fucking grave#i cannot believe i saw someone bring up what is going in florida in the us as a legitimate argument point#like#do you realize you are defending harmful content towards children with the same level +#+ one would fight about if it were just a regular fandom dispute???????#WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO COEXIST WITH SUCH A CESSPOOL?#I WILL NEVER BE COMFORTABLE KNOWING MY WORKS LIVE NEXT TO GRAPHIC OR VIOLENT DEPICTIONS OF CHILDREN IN MEDIA#YOU FUCKING FREAKS#if i have to see another motherfucking slave play/eugenics sounding harry potter fanfic on the MAIN TAG ONE MORE TIME#i will bash my head open because sincerely i just think y'all have WILLINGLY lost the plot#i'm so tired of this#why would anyone with a rational mind and heart think it is completely to normal to let that fester#on a site meant for inclusivity and the freedom of imagination#your disgusting filth about the kids of stranger things or the anime kids or real kpop idols is not worth the wasted space#you fucking weirdos#begging you to get some actual psychological help#archive of our own#ao3
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Listen, y'all know I'm a Team Rancher fan on main, but I'm also completely and totally normal about the Renchanting boys and I don't go off about them as much as I probably should
#Renchanting Duo#THEY BUILT THEIR TRUST IN BLOOD#AND REN GAVE HIS LIFE FOR THEIR CAUSE#AND THE WATCHERS WERE GONNA MAKE MARTYN BETRAY HIM BUT HE DIED BEFORE HE COULD#AND THEY FOUND EACH OTHER AGAIN DURING LL EVEN THOUGH THEY WERE ON OPPOSING SIDES#AND THEY TEAMED UP DURING DL EVEN THOUGH THEY WERE NOT SOULMATES AND I'M#these dramatic theatre kids are gonna send me to an early fucking grave#don't even get me started on their stray comments they make about/to each other in passing#or the fact that Cleo has - not once but TWICE - commented on the fact that Martyn and Ren are just LIKE THAT#Like I don't care what kind of relationship they have all I know is it's a HELL of a bond and it surpasses all other boundaries#I'm sane I swear
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herniated disk THIS IS BULLSHIT
#i didnt even get this hurt when i wrestled#but somehow a fucking OFFICE JOB is actually gonna be what sends me to an early grave#im so grumpy and in pain
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Bad Decisions
ღ pairing: tech support!Yoongi x f. reader
ღ genre: friends to lovers, fluff, smut [18+]
ღ summary: Jimin is desperate to get his apartment back to himself. He’ll move hell and earth, and even drop to his knees to beg you to take his brother, Yoongi, out of his hands. Who are you to say no to that pretty face and sinister grin?
ღ part of the room for rent collab
ღ wc: 14.3k
ღ warnings: jokes about a foot fetish, reader helped jimin wax, alcohol use/mention, mention of matching tattoos, matching swimsuits, jealousy, mention of medication that causes sun sensitivity (?), marking (hickeys, biting), hair pulling, mention of choking/breath play, fingering (f. receiving), oral sex (f. giving and receiving), spanking, mention of masturbation, unprotected sex, creampie
ღ date: January 27, 2023
“Please take him,” Jimin pleads as he gets down on his knees, hands clasped together. “He’s my brother.”
“Stepbrother,” Yoongi chimes in with a roll of his eyes.
Jimin scoffs, looking at Yoongi over his shoulder. “Just say you hate me and go.”
Yoongi clicks his tongue. “I don’t hate you. I just don’t want to live with you.”
“You see what I have to put up with? Please, take him! I’m begging you as your best friend and soulmate. Take him!”
Yoongi crosses his arms over his chest.
“You’re not making this very appealing, Chim.”
“I told him you wouldn’t go for it,” Yoongi sneers as he pushes off the wall he was leaning against.
“You know, when you invited me over for dinner, I didn’t think it would include you kissing my feet and begging me to take your brother,” you say as you walk to the couch, and Jimin shuffles forward on his knees.
“You want me to kiss your feet?” Jimin looks at your bare feet and grimaces. “That’s not my thing, but if it’ll take him off my hands.”
Jimin shrugs, and you gape at him, putting your feet on the couch and out of his reach. “Don’t you dare!”
“I’m trying to bargain!” Jimin exclaims while Yoongi rolls his eyes and sits on the black leather recliner.
“You’re shit at it.”
“Do you want a place to live or not?” Jimin asks with a glare that could send anyone to an early grave. Anyone except Min Yoongi.
“I’m comfortable here. I’ve got my own room,” Yoongi grins mischievously as he places his arms behind his head and leans back.
“It’s my room and my apartment,” Jimin growls at his brother before turning to you with a soft gaze and a pout.
“Take him, please. I’m literally on my knees for you. He’s ruining my Fuckdome,” Jimin sighs as he plops down beside you.
“Fuckdome?” You raise a brow in question.
“Apparently, Bachelor Pad is too lame,” Yoongi answers with a scoff. “As if he ever got laid in the first place.”
“Hey! I get laid!”
“When was the last time?” Yoongi chuckles.
“Before you moved in!” Jimin shouts, tugging at his hair. “Please, I’ll do anything. Just get him out of here.”
“Wow! I’m definitely not feeling unwanted by my little brother,” Yoongi frowns.
“So now I’m your brother?” Jimin raises a brow at Yoongi.
“All right! All right! Fuck, I’ll take him,” you declare, tired of the two squabbling. You’re sure they could go for hours on end.
“You will?” Yoongi’s brows rise in surprise, disappearing into his blonde hair.
“Shut up before she takes it back,” Jimin hisses at Yoongi, then dons an angelic smile when he turns to you. “No take-backs! He’s yours!”
“Okay, but there’s gonna be rules!” You inform them.
“He’ll comply!”
“I don’t even know what they are yet,” Yoongi tried to protest, but Jimin glared at him.
“I want my room back. I love you, but I love my space, too.”
Yoongi sighs.
“It’s nothing bad,” you assure Yoongi. “Typical stuff. Replace food if you finish it. Let me know before you bring people over, no loud music after 10 pm. Stuff like that,” you shrug.
“Are you gonna make a list?” Yoongi teases, but you nod, and he huffs.
“Fine, but only until I find a place of my own. I don’t want to burden you like I have Jimin,” Yoongi says.
“You’re not a burden. I just wanna get laid,” Jimin laughs as he lays his head on your lap.
“Yeah,” you agree quickly. “You’re not a burden. Jimin just doesn’t think with the head on his shoulders. A recent development. I’m afraid.”
“I’m not that bad.” Jimin rolls onto his back so he can look up at you while your fingers run through his hair.
“You had me wax your junk just last week?” Your brows furrowed, and Yoongi cackled at the revelation. Jimin turns red and hides his face in your stomach, muffling the scream he lets out.
“That was a secret!” You manage to make out.
“Geez, just how close are you?” Yoongi grips his stomach, it aches from laughing too much, and tears roll down his cheeks.
“Too close,” you frown, shuddering at the memory.
“That’s the last time I ask you to do anything for me!” Jimin huffs with a pout on his pretty lips.
“Thank you!” You sing, ruffling his hair before he sits up and crosses his arms as he sits as far away from you on the couch. He gives you a look, and you can’t help but think he looks like a petulant child.
“Sooooo,” Yoongi grins. “When can I move in?”
Months have passed since that night, and Yoongi’s grown on you. At first, it was awkward having him around. You could no longer walk around naked or half-dressed, and your drunken nights out led to Yoongi half-carrying you to bed while you mumbled about his resemblance to cats. Which then led to sober you adopting a cat, a cute little black cat named Spider.
Sure, Yoongi was hesitant at first. After all, what did he know about being a pet parent? But soon, Spider grew on him, and much to your dismay, he was your cat’s favorite human.
Wherever Yoongi went, Spider was attached to him. The moment he’d get home from work and plop down on the couch, Spider was climbing on his lap and rubbing her cute, little face on his chest.
“She’s my cat,” you’d murmur with a frown.
“She loves me more,” Yoongi would say with a grin as he cuddled the little fur ball. Her loud purrs are just a soundtrack to your sadness.
At one point, Yoongi got matching shirts for the three of you. Something Jimin cackled at when you’d shown him the day after. Yoongi was adamant about you three wearing them out on your walks. Sometimes, he’d have Spider on a leash or put her in a stroller. You know, just Pet Parent things.
Overall, the three of you were happy living together. At least once, the initial awkwardness had passed, and you suppose you have Spider to thank for that. You realize you quite like having Yoongi around, not realizing how lonely it actually was to live alone. After all, you’d grown up with three siblings and lived with them until you had to move away for college, but even then, you had a roommate, so you weren’t genuinely alone until after graduation just a few years ago. Sure, you had friends over here and there and a few sleepovers with Jimin, but having someone around all the time was different and not as bad as you assumed it would be.
You loved coming home from a long day at work to see Yoongi’s shoes sitting by the door. His body lay on the couch with your fur baby on his chest as he slept soundly. You loved the little notes he’d leave for you on the fridge, reminding you that dinner was saved for you in your favorite Tupperware container, and sometimes Spider would surprise you wearing a new outfit, sometimes a dress, sometimes a shirt, or sometimes a new collar and bow.
Today, your roommate and cat are nowhere to be found when you walk through the door. You pause by the entrance as you take your coat off, hanging it on one of the hooks beside it. Yoongi’s shoes sit in their usual spot, and you kick yours off to join his, leaving a space in between.
“Yoongi? Spider?” You sing as you try to find either of them. Spider will suffice. The last thing you want is for your cat to be caught up in something they’re not supposed to be in.
“In the bathroom!” Yoongi calls, albeit muffled.
You say nothing else as you go to the bathroom, brows furrowed in confusion, but the door swings open, and Yoongi grins at you. Beside him, a safe distance away, is Spider licking her paw. She stops when the door creaks open further, her intense gaze locked on yours almost as if to say, “I tried to stop him.”
“Yoongi!” you gasp. “What are you doing?”
“Dyeing my hair,” he says in a tone that ruffles your feathers. He grins when he turns back to his reflection, his fingers massaging the dye into his hair.
“It's orange!”
“It is,” Yoongi grins his signature smile, and you can't help but melt. “I thought it was time for a change.”
“Do you need help?” You offer, but Yoongi shrugs, and he steps back. You turn to face the mirror, passing in front of him to scoop Spider into your arms. Yoongi holds his breath as you pass by him again, feeling your ass lightly brush his crotch. He tries not to think anything of it, but fuck. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about having you on his lap, feeling your body, the warmth of your skin against his.
“I'm almost done. Thanks, princess,” he clears his throat as he finishes up, and you take Spider out of the bathroom.
“You better not stain the tub!” You shout as you take Spider to the kitchen. You set her on the floor, grabbing her container of treats. She immediately begins meowing until you’re popping two on the floor for her.
Spider practically inhaled them as you put the container away, offering a few head pats before opening the fridge.
You smile, grateful when you spot your Tupperware in the fridge with your dinner. Work had been long and exhausting. You were eager to have dinner, shower, and lay on the couch with Spider and Yoongi.
By the time Yoongi is out of the shower and has gotten it cleaned up, he spots you asleep on the couch. He warms at the sight, going to grab the small throw blanket to place over you. You snore softly and he giggles, silently taking your picture to send to you later.
Spider hops on his lap when he sits on the opposite side of the couch and he pets her. “Shh, don’t wake her up.”
Spider doesn’t listen. Instead, she hops off Yoongi and starts walking on you until you’re groaning and sitting up after feeling her paws digging into your thigh. Your eyes are still closed, but you’re scooping up Spider gently.
“Naughty girl,” you sigh as you kiss her little head and set her on the couch. Spider circles a few times and finally gets comfortable enough to fall asleep.
“She’s a brat,” Yoongi cackles once you’re fully awake.
“She gets it from you,” you tease.
Yoongi scoffs. “She gets it from her mother.”
“She gets it from her father.” You roll your eyes at him before raising your phone to check the time. Yoongi sends you the picture he took of you sleeping, edited to show a huge mustache on your face.
“Yoongi!!”
“What?” He asks, his cat eyes twinkling mischievously.
“You can’t take pictures of me sleeping!”
“Says who?”
“Me?!”
“You look cute!” Yoongi shrugs. You flounder, feeling heat rise to your face.
“That’s not the point! And you gave me a mustache!” You lunge at him, earning a cry from Spider as she jumps out of the way. You throw an apology at her before landing on Yoongi. He grunts, not expecting your attack, and he holds his phone over his head.
“Gimme!”
“Nope!” He grins, looking down at you as you try (and fail) to take the phone from him. You glare, freezing when you realize his hair is orange. Sure, it was one thing to see it while it was still a wet mess on his head, but now that it was dry and styled, it left you breathless.
“Earth to Rageful?” Yoongi waves his hand in front of your face. You blink and shake your head.
“Delete it!”
“I can’t. It’s already my Lock Screen,” Yoongi smirks as you try again to take his phone before climbing onto his lap and straddling him. He’s shocked to the core but is a master at schooling his features. You don’t notice the blankness on his face as he tries to focus on anything but your wiggling hips on his lap. He curses himself, praying he doesn’t get riled up from this. It had been a while for him and something as simple as them could have him popping a boner. Damn.
“Got it!” You cheer as you snatch the phone from his hand. Yoongi laughs, his hand on your back to hold you as you go through his phone and delete the picture. “Here, I’ll make Spider your Lock Screen. It’ll be cuter that way.”
“Oh? You don’t think you’re cuter than Spider?” Yoongi raises a brow.
“Are you kidding? She’s a precious angel. Look at her!” You both turn to see your cat, who’s on the floor rolling on her back, playing with a toy. You both melt at the sight, cooing at her before you turn back to Yoongi. “Precious.”
“Hmm, true, but you’re cute too,” he says honestly and you laugh, smacking his chest.
“Sure, Min. I’ll believe it,” you shake your head before climbing off his lap, tossing his phone at him.
“I mean it,” he says seriously and you swallow thickly.
“I guess you’re kinda cute, too.”
Yoongi smiles cockily. “Only kinda?”
You feel like your face is on fire. Your eyes widen and you bite your lip. Your tongue feels like lead and you hope you can control yourself and not call him the Adonis you think he is.
“Yeah, only kinda. Don’t need you getting a big head. Although…” you giggle.
Yoongi rolls his eyes. “You’re so annoying! Come here!”
You yelp and laugh as he gets off the couch, chasing you around the apartment as your laughter fills your home.
Spider keeps out of the way but joins in a moment later until you’re all running around, laughing, and having a good time.
“You have to come to Jungkook’s pool party with me! I can’t go alone! I’ll look like a loser!” Jimin pouts.
“Jimin, nobody will think you’re a loser for going alone. Besides, aren’t you friends with his friends?” You say as you sit on the couch with your feet in Yoongi’s lap. He’s got one hand caressing your ankle, fingertips brushing your tiny tattoo of an S for Spider that you had urged him to get with you shortly after adopting her.
Yoongi scoffs. “Since when has anyone called you a loser, little bro? If I remember correctly, everyone loved you in school.”
“That’s different! Of course, everyone loved me back then. I was phenomenal!” Jimin spits back and you sigh.
“Boys! Please, not again!” You groan as your head falls back onto the couch. Yoongi murmurs an apology as he continues to scroll on his phone but doesn’t cease caressing your ankle.
“So, will the both of you come?”
“Uh, will it be okay with Jungkook if you invite us?” You ask.
“Of course! I already asked. He said yes!” Jimin says and you sigh in defeat.
“Fine, we’ll be there.”
“You didn’t even ask me?” Yoongi looks at you and you pout. He sighs.
“Yeah,” he mutters. “We’ll be there.”
“Thanks! You’ll have a great time! I have to go!” Jimin hangs up and Yoongi groans.
“Between you and him, I can never get a word in.” Yoongi clicks his tongue.
“It’s the same when you fight. Now, do you wanna wear matching swimsuits or what?”
“Or what,” he snarks.
“I can’t believe you made us wear matching swimsuits,” Yoongi mutters under his breath as you walk into Jungkook’s backyard. You ignore him, knowing he’d adored the matching black-and-white checkered board shorts you both wore. You even had the matching top that was more like a sports bra than a bikini top, while Yoongi had decided to wear a long-sleeved black shirt.
Decidedly you step forward as you search the gathering of friends. Immediately, you spot Jimin at the same time he sees you. He waves with a huge grin on his face.
It’s nearing 3 pm, and the sun is still sweltering. Yoongi groans, his pretty eyes hidden behind a pair of huge black sunglasses as he scopes out an empty sun lounger under the canopy. That’s where he’ll remain until it’s time to go.
“You made it!” Jimin hugs you, mindful of his drink as he wraps an arm around you.
“You act like you haven’t seen each other in months,” Yoongi grumbles and you elbow him.
“It feels like it! We haven’t had a sleepover in a while.”
“Hmm, since about the time Yoongi moved in,” Jimin recalls.
“Don’t let me keep you from your activities,” Yoongi snarls, feeling a tidbit unwanted but making his expression neutral.
“Oh, we don’t!” Jimin wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “But you won’t join us in our makeovers or skincare, and that’s no fun.”
“I have sensitive skin,” Yoongi protests.
“Then I’ll plan something soon,” Jimin brightens as he hugs Yoongi tightly. Huffing, Yoongi reluctantly agrees, hugging Jimin back.
“Now, let’s get you acquainted with some of Jungkook’s friends. The rest are friends of friends or whatever. But the important ones are over here. Yoongi, I got you a sun lounger and an umbrella. I also got Kook to get you one of those little fans that spray water.” Jimin informs his brother as he leads the two of you past a few guests.
“See, this won’t be so bad,” you say as you tuck your arm into Yoongi’s.
“Yeah, yeah,” he clicks his tongue, but doesn’t make a move to pull away.
For the most part, Yoongi is having a good time just watching the guests. He has a few conversations here and there, but eventually; they fizzle out. He doesn’t care, though. He has you for most of the afternoon, and that’s all that really matters.
There’s plenty of food and drinks to go around. Conversations and laughter fill the air and Jimin’s laughter rings above all. He’s been attached to Jungkook all afternoon, blushing and giggling at his every word.
You’ve gone to the pool and mingled with Namjoon and Hoseok, two of Jimin’s friends that you’ve known for years. They’re pretty cool and they keep you busy while Yoongi hangs back in his chair. He’s not made a move to step out of the shade, completely content with his little spraying fan.
“How’s living with Yoongi?” Namjoon’s the first to ask, but you know Hoseok is dying to know. Hell, even Taehyung, a friend of Yoongi’s you’ve recently gotten to hang out with, comes up to your group at the mention of his friend’s name.
“It’s chill,” you try to remain coy, but Hoseok scoffs.
“That’s it?”
“What else is there to know? He pays rent and half the bills. We share custody of Spider,” you shrug.
Namjoon and Hoseok share a look before Taehyung nods. He looks over at Yoongi and chuckles.
“Looks like you’re needed elsewhere,” he says as he splashes you in the face and swims away. Namjoon and Hoseok cackle as they swim after him and you’re left alone.
You turn to look at Yoongi but he’s engrossed in a conversation, his phone in a woman’s lap. You frown, ignoring the jealousy that bubbles up in your belly. He’s just your roommate. Just your friend. No need to get jealous, you remind yourself.
It doesn’t make the sickly feeling in your stomach go away. Try as you might, you knew your little crush on your roommate ran deeper than that, but you refused to acknowledge your feelings in public. Instead, you sigh as you dunk underwater; the coolness shocking you out of your bad mood.
Later, you get out of the pool, tired of the splashing and the slight burn in your eyes. Your fingers and toes are wrinkled and you are in need of a break.
You head straight for Yoongi as you towel off, exchanging pleasantries as you go. Yoongi looks up at you when you arrive, and you grin, glad he’s alone again.
“Sup?” He asks casually.
You smile as you bend down to grab your sunblock from your bag. You pat Yoongi’s thigh and he moves his leg as he looks at you, puzzled.
You sit between his legs, your ass nearly pressed to his crotch as you bend forward and move your hair to the side. You drop your sunblock on his lap and he grabs it.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” He asks with a raised brow but your back is to him, so you don’t see him frown.
“Sunblock needs to be reapplied. It’s not one and done, Yoong,” you state as you fan yourself with your hand. Despite the sun setting, it was still quite hot and humid out.
“I don’t see why you couldn’t ask Jimin to do this?” Yoongi groans as he opens the bottle, squeezing it to get a quarter-sized dollop on his palm. He didn’t care for the oily feeling of it.
You roll your eyes.
“I did.” You huff. “He almost pushed me into the pool because Jungkook was flirting with him.”
Yoongi remains silent as he looks across the backyard at his brother flirting with Jungkook. His hands wrapped around Jungkook’s tattooed arm. The smile on Jimin’s lips rivals the sun. Yoongi clicks his tongue.
“You see, if you had stayed out of the sun as I did, you wouldn’t need it.”
“But that’s no fun!” you exclaim as Yoongi rubs the lotion onto your back. “Besides, you need to be wearing sunblock regardless if you’re under the umbrella or not.”
“Trust me, I know. Remember, I’m on medication and it makes me extra sensitive to the sun. So, unfortunately, I’m stuck here until it sets.”
“Like a vampire,” you giggle.
“Exactly,” he grins as his hands move down your body to your hips. He hums to himself as he finishes rubbing the sunblock on your skin. You nearly fall asleep with the gentleness of his touch.
Hours later, as the party wraps up, Jimin finally makes his way over to his brother, sitting on the chair beside him.
“Hey,” he smiles brightly.
Yoongi grunts in acknowledgment.
“Meet anyone new?” Jimin asks as he lies back, his arms crossed behind his head. He already knows the answer. Despite being insanely occupied with Jungkook, he had kept an eye on Yoongi to make sure the elder was enjoying the party. However, he had seen a few guests make their way to Yoongi, though he has no idea what any of those conversations entailed. He never spotted the same person twice.
“Not really? Was I supposed to?” Yoongi is genuinely confused, raising a brow at his brother. Did he miss something? Someone? Did Jimin send over the few people that had chatted him up for a bit?
“Nobody hit on you?” Jimin asks, sitting up in disbelief. It was rare that an outing left Yoongi without any numbers or compliments, at the very least.
“Were they supposed to?” Yoongi is growing annoyed at his brother and the circling of this discussion. It’s not like Yoongi was looking for a partner, not when he had Spider and you already.
“I don’t know why none of the people here hit on you,” Jimin says with furrowed brows.
Yoongi shrugs. “I don’t know either.”
“Well, what do you talk about when they come up to you?”
“I don’t know.” Yoongi licks his lips, clicking his tongue after. “I just showed them pictures of Spider.”
“Lemme see,” Jimin urges, scooting closer to Yoongi.
Yoongi hands his phone over and Jimin rolls his eyes when he sees the lock screen. It’s a picture Jimin took of you and Yoongi with your arms wrapped around him while Spider sits in his lap. The both of you are looking at each other with hearts in your eyes. Nothing screamed “They’re IN LOVE!” like this photo.
Jimin shakes his head, handing the phone back to his brother. “Yeah, I have no clue what it is.”
Yoongi decides to ignore the sarcasm in his brother’s voice. “What? Am I missing something?”
“You’re clueless and so is she!” Jimin huffs. “You’re obviously into her!”
“Shhh!” Yoongi hisses, covering Jimin’s mouth and regretting it the moment his younger brother licks his palm.
“EW! Jimin, what the fuck?!” Yoongi screeches as he wipes his palm on his board shorts. “You’re disgusting!”
Jimin shrugs. “Sorry, didn’t mean to ruin your matching board shorts! Oh, because you’re matching with my best friend, who you are in love with!!”
“Jimin!” Yoongi growls, his eyes hard and Jimin gulps.
Fuck.
“Am I wrong tho?” Jimin whispers as he looks around the immediate area, but most of the guests have gone home and you left a while ago to shower and change inside Kook’s house. There was no way anyone could hear this conversation.
“Jimin,” Yoongi cards his hand through his hair. Jimin waits patiently for his brother to continue, though he hopes he hurries, aching to find Kook and spend the rest of the night with him.
“Fine, okay! Fuck,” Yoongi sighs. “I like her, okay? I’ve liked her since I moved in and she put on a playlist while cooking and had a bunch of my favorite artists on there. Or maybe since before I moved in and she’d come over to your place and squish me until I handed over the remote. I honestly don’t know, man. But now I live with her and I can’t lose her or Spider if shit hits the rocks.”
“Damn, bro. I thought you’d say she was hot or something. I didn’t know this was something sweet,” Jimin pouts. “My best friend and my brother!”
“Shut up! Nothing’s coming out of this because I’m not saying anything to her.” Yoongi states firmly. “And neither are you—for that matter.”
“But-”
“No, Jimin. You take this to the grave. Don’t be sticking your spoon where it doesn’t belong,” Yoongi is adamant about this, and Jimin nods.
Jimin opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by you shouting Yoongi’s name.
“Yoon! Let’s go home! I miss Spider!”
“Coming!” Yoongi calls back, waving at you as you shut the sliding glass door and join Jungkook in the kitchen once again.
Yoongi looks at his brother. “Not a word. Let me figure this out on my own.”
“She’s my best friend,” Jimin protests.
“And I live with her. Jimin, I’m not gonna fuck this up. Just let me get over her, okay?”
“And if she likes you back?” Jimin asks.
“Be realistic,” Yoongi scoffs as he gathers his belongings and heads into the house. Jimin watches his brother go, sighing as he goes over their conversation. He didn’t mean to cause such turmoil for Yoongi. He was just trying to help.
A few weeks later, Jimin shows up at your door with an overnight bag and a cooler filled with all his skin care products.
“I thought the point of me moving out of your place was to avoid sleeping under the same roof,” Yoongi groans when he steps aside to let his brother into his apartment.
“Rude!” Jimin huffs as he kicks his shoes off and slips on his light blue slippers. “Besides, I was invited.”
“Yoongi! Be nice to Jimin!” You call from the kitchen, opening the oven door to pull out the two trays of brownies you had prepared.
“I’m always nice!” Yoongi shouts in response as Jimin ignores him and sets his stuff down.
“It’s time for our sleepover, so either get with the program or go to your room,” Jimin shrugs as he makes himself at home, cooing at Spider when she jumps on his lap.
“Traitor!” Yoongi huffs as he stomps off to his bedroom but reappears minutes later in his pajamas.
“That’s what I thought,” Jimin smirks.
“It was time for bed,” Yoongi lies, and Jimin nods.
“Uh-huh, sure. Anyway, I brought snacks.” Jimin digs in his bag and takes out a pile of chips, candy, drinks, and menus from his favorite spots in town.
“Is this what you do at all your sleepovers?” Yoongi asks as he sits on the couch with a bag of chips. You’re nearly on Jimin’s lap, gently rubbing a hydrating cream onto his cheekbones.
“Yes? We also talk about boys,” Jimin giggles.
“Oh? How are things with Jungkook?” you ask as you gently pat another cream between his brows. Jimin perks up immediately, sitting up. “Amazing! Oh, so amazing!”
You listen intently to your best friend as he informs you about his budding relationship with his crush. It makes it hard to continue your beauty treatment on him, so you move on to your reluctant roommate.
“Don’t get any in my hair, princess,” he huffs as you move over to him. He’s sitting on the floor with his legs out in front of him as Jimin connects his phone to the TV and presents a slideshow of his photos of Jungkook and him out on dates.
You nod along as you gently pat your fingers on Yoongi’s skin. He’s got glorious, flawless skin already. You don’t want to do too much to it. The closer you move to him, the more rigid he grows. His palms grow sweaty and the loud thumping of his heart drowns out the rapid thumping of yours.
Being so close to Yoongi makes you realize how pretty he really is. His orange hair has faded immensely, and he’s made comments about dyeing it black once again. He’s also let it grow out more and now it reaches the collar of his shirt. It’s so fluffy and soft that you can’t help but want to run your fingers through it.
“And here we are at an 80s night at the club,” Jimin prattles on as he stares at the TV, oblivious to you and Yoongi being in your own world.
Yoongi swallows thickly as he looks you in the eye, holding your gaze as you move even closer, nearly on his lap. “Pretty.”
You’re left speechless, wondering if you’d heard him correctly. You’re about to ask when Spider jumps in between you.
You scream, startled, and jump back. Yoongi curses as he moves Spider to the side and asks if you’re okay. Jimin looks over his shoulder, asking if you’re paying attention before he continues on to the next photo.
“Sorry,” you say as you get on your feet. “Just let that sit for a few minutes and rinse it off,” You mutter as you take a seat on the couch on the opposite end of him. Yoongi nods, petting Spider as his thoughts swirl around his head.
Jimin was the first to fall asleep that night. In your bed. Splayed out. Leaving no room for you.
You’d tried your best to morph around him, but he slept like a starfish. You sigh, grabbing your blanket and pillow before getting out of bed.
You quietly tiptoe to Yoongi’s room, knocking.
“Yeah?” comes his reply.
“Can I come in?” you ask. You know better than to step into his room without knocking. The first time had been by accident, chasing Spider through the apartment to get your sock back, and Yoongi stood there wrapped in nothing but a towel around his waist and a glower that made your panties stick to you. Fuck.
“Why?”
“Yoongi!” you whine, huffing when you hear his laugh through the door. Moments later, the door opens and your sleepy roommate stands at the door, his hand on the doorknob. You look past him and see Spider curled up on his bed, one eye open to check who is disturbing her beauty sleep.
“Can I sleep here?” you pout.
“Don’t you have a bed?” Yoongi raises a brow at your odd request.
“Your brother’s on it.”
“It’s a sleepover. Remember, princess? You invited him over and now he’s asleep. That's usually how this goes,” Yoongi smirks. You poke his side, not caring for his condescending tone, but you know it’s how he gets when he’s tired; always teasing and never malicious.
“Yoongi,” you huff, yawning right after.
Yoongi chuckles. “Come in. You better go right to sleep.”
“I will. I will,” you promised as you push past your roommate and get on his bed. It’s firm but comfortable and Spider doesn’t move an inch from her spot as you get comfortable beside her. Yoongi shuts the door almost all the way, leaving just enough room for Spider to open it if she needs to leave later on.
“And you better not keep me up with your snoring,” Yoongi smiles when you scoff, offended.
“I don’t snore!”
“Sure, sure.” Yoongi grins as he gets into his side of the bed, pulling his blanket over his frame as Spider stands and circles around for a moment before dropping exactly where she had been previously. Cats.
“Goodnight, Yoongi.”
“Goodnight, princess.”
Hot. So hot.
Groaning, you stir in your sleep. You don’t want to fully wake, but you’re too hot to think of anything else. There’s weight over your waist and you move your hand to move it, grumbling when it doesn’t budge.
“Mm, quit,” comes a response, and your eyes widen.
That was not Jimin!
Slowly, you wiggle your way out of the hold. You nearly scream when you see Yoongi sleeping beside you, a frown on his lips now that you’ve moved away.
“What the fuck?” you mutter to yourself. You soon remember coming to his room last night when Jimin had taken over your bed.
“I need to go,” you whisper as you wiggle your way out of Yoongi’s bed. You force yourself not to think about how perfect he felt pressed against you, his chest on your back and his arm draped protectively over your waist. Nope. Not gonna think about it!
“Good morning!” Jimin calls when he sees you in the hall. His smile is suggestive and you’re quick to drag him to the kitchen, out of earshot from Yoongi’s bedroom if he were to wake up.
“You look like you slept well,” Jimin wiggles his brows and you scowl.
“You took up my bed,” you hissed.
“And this is news to you? I always take up the bed. You should be thanking me! How else would you have ended up in bed with Yoongi? You’re welcome!” Jimin exclaims giddily and you shush him.
“You need to come with a sound warning. How are you so chipper so early in the morning?” you ask as you go get your favorite mug so you can start making coffee for everyone.
“Scheming gives me a pep in my step,” Jimin shrugs. “Anyway, tell me what happened! Did you make a move? Did he make a move? Are you dating? Did you fuck?”
“Jimin!”
“What? I give you details all the time!”
“Yeah, unprompted,” you stick your tongue out, but you do love living vicariously through Jimin and he knows that. He’d never cross any boundary you set.
“Spill!” Jimin pouts, but thanks you when you hand him his coffee with his favorite creamer. He takes a sip, moaning and thanking you again for getting it just right.
“Nothing happened, Chim. I asked if I could sleep in his bed and he said yes. Spider slept between us most of the night. I kept rolling over and getting fur in my face.”
“Damn, what a cockblock,” Jimin looks at Spider, who stretches and yawns from her perch in the cat tree by the front door.
“I wasn’t gonna fuck him!” you screech before covering your mouth and hoping Yoongi wasn’t awake just yet.
“But you want to?” Jimin prods.
“I do, Jimin. He’s hot, sure. But he’s also so sweet and funny. He leaves little notes when he packs my lunch and I always look forward to coming home because I know he’s here with our baby,” you gush.
“And you don’t like him?” Jimin covers his mouth as he laughs.
“I do like him. I’m fucked, aren’t I?” you grumble as you sip your coffee.
“Not as fucked as you think,” Jimin mutters.
Work was a nightmare, and you were thankful to be home.
“I’m home!” you call out as you shut the door and kick your shoes off.
“In the bathroom!” Yoongi calls out.
You furrow your brows before walking to the bathroom. The door is wide open and Yoongi’s standing in front of the mirror with his hands in his hair covered in black hair dye.
“Again?” you ask as you lean against the doorway.
“I wanted to match Spider,” he shrugs and you note how long and shaggy his hair has gotten. You wonder if he’d let you run your fingers through it once he’s done.
“Well, aren’t you cute?” you hum before leaving him on his own. Yoongi blushes when you walk away, his heart skipping a beat.
“Spider!” you grin when you spot your cat napping on the couch. You scoop her up and she mewls, blinking her sleepy eyes at you as you smooch her. “Your daddy’s making a mess in the bathroom again.”
“I am not!” Yoongi calls out.
You cackled, carrying your precious kitty to the kitchen for a treat.
“He’s only dyeing his hair so you’ll like him better,” you tease and hear Yoongi huff a laugh.
“You’ve distracted me, princess!”
“Good!” you shout in response as you open the fridge to grab the leftovers. You open the lid and place the Tupperware into the microwave.
While you wait for your food to heat, Yoongi joins you in the kitchen, hair dye sitting in his hair as he waits for it to process.
“How was work?” Yoongi asks as the microwave beeps and you hit the button to open the door. Carefully, you grab the container and set it on the counter before shutting the door.
“It was long. You know I hate making small talk with people, especially after the weekend,” you grumble.
Yoongi smirks. “But it’s Friday, princess.”
You roll your eyes playfully. “But that means I’ll have to hear all about Jessica’s perfect weekend on Monday morning. I don’t think she even notices that I tune her out. It’s usually the same thing with her every week.”
“Well,” Yoongi shrugs. “We can do something this weekend, and you’ll have something to share on Monday.”
“Like what?” you question as you grab a fork from the cutlery drawer and stab your food with it. You moan lewdly as you chew it.
“That good, huh?” Yoongi chuckles.
You flip him off. “What did you have in mind? Should I get a sitter?”
“I don’t think we’ll need a sitter, princess. I was thinking we could get dinner at that one place you love and then hit up the bar near it. Tomorrow there’s a festival we can go to as well,” Yoongi suggests, biting his lip nervously. He was asking you out, and he didn’t know if he was being direct enough or if you thought he just wanted to hang out.
“Twice in one week?” you raise a brow.
Yoongi shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant, but you can see the tips of his ears turning pink. You decide to further his bashfulness a bit more by asking, “like a date?”
“I-uh,” Yoongi gulps, caught red-handed.
“Ooh, Yoongi wants to date me!” You sing as you pop another bite of food into your mouth and wiggle in your happy dance.
Spider hops on the counter and you sigh, forgetting all about Yoongi to get your little kitty back on the floor.
“So dinner?” Yoongi asks.
“Dinner sounds good!” You agree.
Dinner had been fantastic!
You had left the apartment together with Yoongi and when he stepped out of his bedroom; he was breathtaking! His long hair was fluffy and so soft-looking, you almost begged him to let you run your fingers through it. He smiled brightly, your heart flipping in your chest as you tried to calm your pulsating pussy. He was donned in his leather jacket and some of the tightest slacks you had ever seen him wear. Instead of his usual Vans shoes, he had donned his Chelsea boots, and you wanted him to step on you. The mere sight of him was orgasm-worthy, and he knew it too.
All throughout dinner, you had been complimented by him. He held the door for you when you arrived at the restaurant and he pulled the chair for you to sit. You had been half-joking about this evening being a date, but everything about your roommate’s demeanor screamed “THIS IS A DATE!” and now you were too afraid to ask for confirmation.
Can you imagine the awkwardness you’d feel in the car if he said no? You’d have nowhere to run and have to stew in it all the way home. Nope, you were just gonna write this off as a bonding experience between you two since Jimin is out with Jungkook once again. But you really hope this is a date!
By candlelight, Yoongi notes the delicate details of your makeup. He can’t help but admire the shine of your lips as you speak, smiling softly when you catch him staring. He smiles back, biting his lip.
“You look beautiful,” he states honestly, sure you’ve grown tired of hearing it tonight, but it’s genuine every time he says so.
Like the past few times, you thank him. A giggle escapes you as you raise your wine glass, bringing it to your lips as you take a sip, ignoring the heat that spreads over your chest.
When the check came, Yoongi immediately swiped the little black book off the table.
“Yoongi,” you whine, a pout on your pretty lips.
“Not a chance, princess. I invited you out, so I’m paying,” Yoongi stuck his card into it, signed the receipt, and handed it back to the waiter. You thank him, finishing your glass of wine before the waiter brings his card back.
Yoongi rises from his seat, going to yours to pull the chair out and help you rise. You grab your purse, stepping in front of Yoongi with your heeled shoes.
Quickly, you press a featherlight kiss to his cheek as thanks, stunning him in place. A smug smile is on your lips when he finally rejoins your side, stunning you when his hand takes yours, fingers laced.
“Come on, princess. We’ve got a bar to get to,” he says simply as he leads you to the car.
After a short drive later, Yoongi opens your door for you once you arrive. He takes your hand easily, leading you inside the bar once your IDs are checked at the door.
What Yoongi didn’t know was that after a certain hour, the bar turned into a club. He keeps you close as he leads you to the bartender, scoring a seat for you.
Almost immediately, a bartender takes your order, all flirty smiles and giggles aimed at your date for the night. You can’t blame them. Yoongi looks good enough to eat. In fact, you had spent most of the night checking him out, well aware of what lies beneath his button-up shirt. The thought warms your skin as you bite your lip and look away.
“Thank you,” Yoongi’s voice is low when you snap out of your thoughts, a cold drink set in front of you.
Slightly surprised, you see it’s your go-to drink, one of your favorites when you’re unsure of what to order. Smiling into the glass, you have a sip as Yoongi does the same to his glass of whiskey. He hadn’t had more than two sips of wine at dinner, and since he’d be driving, he would only have a few sips here as well.
On the other hand, you would finish this drink and one more before switching to water. You were already feeling more relaxed and less nervous as the hours passed. You still weren’t sure if this was a date, but you really hoped so, as Yoongi spilled stories of Jimin you had never heard before.
Your laugh is contagious as you lean into him, your hand on his shoulder as you catch yourself to keep from falling. Yoongi smiles at you, butterflies fluttering in his tummy as he feels warmth spread across his cheeks. He wonders why you haven’t done this before, and sure, he should have just asked you out, but he was still apprehensive but seeing the way you’re looking him in the eye, bashful smile on your lips, and literally hanging off him, he notes he probably had no reason to worry.
With your drink in your hand, you scope out the dance floor; you note more than a handful of men and women looking over in your direction, particularly at Yoongi, who seems oblivious as he bops his head to the beat. You hide your smile behind your glass, ignoring the flutter of your heart as you take in his side profile, mesmerized by his eyes and the perfect curve of his lips. How lucky you were to be at his side; though if you ask Yoongi, he’d say the same about you.
After a moment, you look back at the dance floor, gently rocking side to side with the beat. Yoongi smiles to himself, nerves eating him up inside, but you just look so darn cute!
“Dance with me,” Yoongi states when you finish your second drink. You hesitate for a split second before throwing caution to the wind and taking his ringed hand. Giggling, you follow him to the crowded dance floor, your arms on his shoulders when you stop in front of him.
You allow Yoongi to lead, his large hands on your waist as you sway your hips to the beat. When he leans in closer, his hair falls over his eyes and you can’t resist the urge to push the strands, running your hands through it and bringing him closer.
“Thank you for tonight,” you say as you lean in closer.
Yoongi nods, “no problem.”
Yoongi’s eyes lock on yours, lips a mere centimeter from yours as the people around you fade along with the background. Nerves be damned, you think as you dance against him, earning a groan from him when you give him your back.
Wetting his lips, Yoongi watches your body as you move effortlessly against him. His hands remain at your hips, maybe even higher to be respectful, but when you guide them to your thighs, he knows you want him to be anything but.
Heated, Yoongi follows your lead instead. His hands map out your body over the thin material of your dress. He knows he could easily tear it off your body with his teeth if you’d let him. Fuck, this isn’t what he wanted tonight to be about, but with another roll of your hips, his body takes over instead of his mind.
Lost in you, Yoongi enjoys the softness of your body in his hands. So much so that he spins you around to face him. Nothing exists but the two of you, everything turning into background noise as you look into his eyes and lean into him, silently begging him to kiss you. Yoongi doesn’t hesitate, his gaze shifting to your lips for a second before his lips are perfectly molded to yours.
Sparks. Immediate sparks appear behind your eyelids as your lips move in sync with his, your heart hammering against your ribs.
Kissing Yoongi is soft and slow, like a setting sunset, magical. Time seems to stop as the kiss grows deeper, his hands cupping your face as yours goes around his neck, your body pressed to his. Yoongi is the first to break the kiss, worried eyes reading yours in case he’s overstepped, but all he finds is your coquette smile as you pull him in for another kiss that he easily melts into.
From slow and sweet to deep and sensual, the kiss curls your toes as his hands grip your hips while your hands grip his shirt, not ready or willing to let him go.
Smiling into the kiss, you take a second to look him in the eye. Your heart is pounding in your chest, wondering what all this means, but the club is too loud for a proper conversation.
“Should we go?” Yoongi asks, as if reading your mind. You nod, immediately lacing your hand with his as he leads you toward the front door, checking to make sure you’re still behind him before pushing through a crowd to get you in front where he can keep his eyes on you.
His eyesight may stray a little below your waist, but he can’t help it when you sway your hips as you head for the front door.
The cool night air hits you like a welcome home hug, fresh and much-needed on your heated skin as you inhale deeply.
The moonlight shines brightly, not a cloud in the sky to dim its glow as Yoongi takes your hand to lead you to the car.
When you arrive, you stop in front of the passenger side door, wondering what it all means and what’s about to happen once you get home.
Yoongi cups your cheek, his thumb gentle on your skin as he strokes it. “This doesn’t have to go any further.” He swallows thickly, gathering up the courage as your eyes shine brightly with hope. It gives him the courage to continue. “I like you. A lot.”
“Yoongi,” you whisper.
Yoongi remains silent as he waits for you to continue. The quick beating of his heart rivals the wings of a hummingbird, but he won’t interrupt when you’re smiling and giggling softly.
“I like you too,” you admit with a coy smile. Heat flushes your cheeks and Yoongi feels it beneath his palm, a grin appearing on his lips as he sighs in relief.
“I won’t lie,” he chuckles. “I was a little worried.”
You take a step back, smiling as your hand cups his cheek, drawing him to your lips. Butterflies swirl around as they flutter their wings in your belly, adrenaline coursing through you. Never did you imagine tonight would turn out this way. Sure, you hoped and daydreamed and even wore your lucky panties but standing here with Yoongi’s lips on yours, sparks going off behind your eyelids-it was better than anything you could have imagined.
“Let’s go home,” Yoongi whispers, finding it hard to pull away from you as you exchange tiny kisses until an icy gust of wind sends shivers down your spine and carries Yoongi’s laugh with it.
The drive home seems to go on for eons.
Yoongi’s hand rests on your thigh, fingertips tracing patterns on your skin. Your thighs press together as you study his side profile mercilessly, desperate to lean over the console, grip him by the collar of his shirt, and lay one on him.
“Soon, princess,” Yoongi smirks when he stops at a red light. He turns to you for the first time since you got in the car and his beautiful smile disarms you as you wriggle in your seat. Embarrassingly, you’re already wet, and just from a few kisses and bashful smiles from the man beside you. His hand on your thigh didn’t help.
“I know,” you utter, biting your lip as he cards his hand through his fluffy black hair, ruffled by the wind just moments before. Fuck, you want to run your fingers through it. Want to tug on it until he’s groaning against your neck, begging you to pull harder.
Swallowing thickly, you finally look away. The press of your thighs doesn’t go unnoticed, but a honk from the car behind you draws Yoongi’s attention back to the road.
“Soon,” he repeats as he taps his fingers on the steering wheel, dark eyes focused on the road, and his soft voice singing along to the song on the radio.
His hand never leaves your thigh.
Stumbling into your apartment with hushed laughter, Yoongi shuts the door after him, dropping his keys on the floor as you fight your heels off your feet, not wanting to go even a second without Yoongi on your lips.
“Princes,” he says through laughter, his incredulous smile on his lips. “This isn’t working. You’re gonna fall.”
“You’ll catch me, won’t you?” you tease but place your hand on the wall to support yourself while you undo the clasp of one heel and then the other.
“Always,” Yoongi answers seriously. He kicks his shoes off along with his socks, and once you’re steady on your bare feet, he’s got you back in his arms.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” you admit coyly. Heat blooms in your cheeks and spreads throughout your body in embarrassment. In your mind, you curse yourself out for saying too much too soon, but all Yoongi does is kiss you in response.
“You’re not the only one, baby.”
Screeching internally, you nod. Your arms wrap around his neck to draw him closer and his pretty black hair falls over his eyes as he leans in to kiss you.
Before his lips can capture yours again, in the same toe-curling way as before, a loud meow interrupts and has you two springing apart.
“Spider!” you gasp, a hand clutched to your chest. “You scared me.”
“Meow!” Spider cries again, wrapping around your leg.
“Her bowl’s empty,” Yoongi shakes his head with a laugh. He takes a moment to fill her bowl in the kitchen, and Spider loses all interest in the both of you as she goes to have her dinner.
“That’ll keep her busy for a bit,” Yoongi says as he approaches you, kissing you hungrily with his hand tangled in your hair and your teeth knocking into each other. He steals your breath away, a gasp escaping you when you’re pressed to an icy wall on your way to his bedroom.
Your hands are tugging and pulling at his clothing, his belt undone and his shirt untucked.
Panting, you break away for air. Cheesy smiles on both your faces.
Thinking clearly, you wonder if you're doing the right thing.
As always, Yoongi seems to be on the same page as you. You aren’t surprised in the slightest when he asks, “Are we making a bad decision?”
“I think we’re making the best decision,” you answer honestly once you’ve taken a moment to think it through. Sure, things could go wrong, but how can it when it feels so right?
“Say no more,” Yoongi murmurs against your lips, guiding you to his bedroom, and shutting the door after you. Not even five minutes later, you’ll hear a scratch and an annoyed meow at the door that you’ll both be too preoccupied to acknowledge properly.
“Fuck,” Yoongi groans when you turn around for him to unzip your dress with the fingers you’ve imagined on your skin time and time again. You swear his fingers alone are enough to get you off, but that’s a secret you’ll keep to yourself until next time.
With each inch of skin exposed, his lips press a kiss to your spine until your red dress is pooled at your feet in a puddle of fabric.
Carefully, Yoongi spins you around for you to face him. Your breath gets caught in your throat as you meet his sparkling gaze. Gentle hands grip your hips, leading you backward until your body meets a wall.
An intense desire to kiss Yoongi blooms deep inside you as you keep your eyes locked on him, waiting for his next move. By all means, you’d let him take the lead; down for whatever came of this night.
Impatiently, your hands grip Yoongi’s shirt, a chuckle escaping his lips as your fingers stumble over a button, unable to get it undone in your hurry to undress him.
“Come on, princess. How bad do you want it?” he asks with a raised brow, his pink tongue making an appearance as he places his hands over yours, guiding them in the removal of his shirt.
Easily, your hands push the useless fabric down his shoulders until it bunches at his elbows and he’s tugging it off the rest of the way to pool on the floor. Yoongi turns his head to the side, loving the way you’re eyeing him hungrily, freely. You’ve never been able to get an eyeful, always quick to avert your eyes if he ever appeared without a shirt. But this… This was paradise.
Perfect honeyed skin and broad muscular shoulders with a soft torso that has a light trail of hair that disappears under the waistband of his pants.
Yoongi is nothing but a patient man. However, you’re really testing him as you stand topless in nothing but your panties, admiring him like he’s your next meal. Quickly, he’s kissing you, his hips pressed to yours to keep you against the wall as your hands pull the belt out of the pant loops to toss it on the floor.
Soon, his tongue is slipping past the seam of your lips when a moan escapes you.
Long nights filled with the image of you just like this fill Yoongi’s mind. He drinks you in slowly, savoring the taste of your lips, your tongue. He loves how well you fit in his hands, made perfect for him.
“I need you,” you whisper against his lips, moaning when they trail down to your neck where his teeth scrape along the column of your throat. Your eyes flutter shut, nails scratching his scalp when he bites down and his hand moves to cup a breast.
“You have me,” he smirks in between kisses before he’s making his way down, taking one pert nipple into his mouth. A curse escapes you, nails uselessly scratching against the wall behind you as his teeth tug gently and you swear you get a glimpse of heaven when you look up.
Yoongi needs your heated gaze on him. After all, he’s the one that’s got you losing your mind. His hand parts your thighs, pushing your panties to the side. A sinful smile is on his lips when his fingertips feel how wet and ready you are for him. For him, all for him. His cock throbs at the thought. This was finally happening. Fuck, is he sure he’s not dreaming?
“Please, don’t tease,” you’re breathless already. A sheen of sweat coating your body and trembling thighs parted for your roommate. Licking his lips, Yoongi takes one last taste of your breast before he’s making his way down your body, licking, sucking, and groping every delicious bit of it until he’s kneeling in front of you. The last thing you expect from Min Yoongi is what he does next! With bright, sharp teeth, he tugs your panties down your thighs easily to toss over his shoulder, no longer needed.
Mind spinning, and breath caught in your throat, you meet his gaze as he looks up at you with a sinister grin that sends a tingle down your spine. Fuck, Min Yoongi was the hottest man you’d ever laid eyes on, and here he was on his knees, just waiting to please you, to make you fall apart until you’re nothing but a sopping, crying mess. Lucky you.
“Where’s the fun in just giving it to you all, princess?” Yoongi asks with mirth. He takes one of your legs in his hands, stroking it gently until he’s got just your foot in his hold.
“Baby,” you gasp, eyes focused on him as he plants a kiss on your ankle.
“Lemme take care of you. Fuck knows, I’ve been wanting to.” he licks his lips as he lifts your leg higher, placing it over his right shoulder.
Silently, you watch him with wide eyes and heavy breaths.
Yoongi’s lips are hellfire as he plants smoldering kisses up your leg ever so slowly.
The beat of your heart is nearly deafening as his lips get closer and closer to the apex of your thighs. You’re too turned on and too lost in Yoongi to even feel embarrassed about being so fucking wet, but fuck, Yoongi’s cheeky grin is enough to have you cumming at the first touch.
“Don’t be shy, baby. Let me hear you,” he says when he’s sucking on the skin until his mark is left behind and his fingers are pressed to your folds. He locks eyes with you, one brow raised as he slides them into you seconds before his tongue is licking a stripe over your wet cunt.
You bite your lip, trying not to be too eager but when he repeats his actions and his fingers pump into you, your legs tremble and all your pride flies out the window as his name rolls off your tongue in a heady cry that rattles your bones and makes Yoongi smile with satisfaction.
“That’s it, baby,” he praises as his thumb finds your clit. His hooded gaze is almost enough for you to collapse, slide down the wall, and join the puddle of discarded clothes on the bedroom floor. Who knew Yoongi could look this feral?
A rough tug of his hair wipes the sinister smirk off his face and he’s quick to retaliate with a hard suck to your clit that leaves you arching, crying out in surprise, and releasing his hair. Yoongi grunts, tongue circling your clit while he pumps his fingers into you, seeing how much you can take before he’s splitting you open on his cock.
“Yoongi,” your moan draws his attention and he’s slow to pull his lips away from you, licking them as he sets your foot on the floor before he’s rising. Your desire to kiss him wins over your desire to cum on his tongue. His fingers continue to fuck you open as he presses his forehead to yours, smirking.
“Want a taste?” he asks, lips pressed to yours, but it’s not enough. Easily, his tongue twines with yours, allowing you to get a taste of yourself, wet and sticky as he swallows your moans. “Can you come on my fingers, babe?”
You nod, breathless.
Yoongi chuckles at your eagerness, speeding up and feeling your arousal dripping down to his wrist as you make the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard.
Cursing, you cling to him, nails digging into his bare shoulder as you try to remain upright, sharing sloppy kisses with remnants of you still on his lips and tongue.
“Fuck, right there! Yoongi!” you gasp as you bury your face in his chest as he presses his lower body to your hip. You feel the hardness of his cock, aching to be inside you. Eager hands greet him, pawing at his pants.
“Focus, baby,” Yoongi laughs, his thumb adding pressure to your clit. He bites back a laugh when your eyes roll back, gripping the wall instead as your thighs shake, his name heavy on your tongue as you beg him to let you come.
Yoongi is mesmerized by the look on your face. Blissful pleasure surges through you as you fall apart for him, soaking his hand and making him groan when you’re pulling him into a rough kiss that leaves him wanting more when you’re pulling away, panting and pleading for no more.
“Next time I’m eating you out on the bed,” Yoongi clicks his tongue as his fingers leave your body, only to be taken into his mouth, his fiery tongue licking each one clean. “And I’m making you cum on my tongue.”
You’re speechless, which just makes him snicker.
“I didn’t get my fill.”
Body burning, you watch as he sucks on his fingers, lewdly moaning as he sucks them dry.
Swallowing thickly, you await his next move as he pops his fingers out of his mouth. “Try it?”
Your mouth opens automatically, welcoming his soaked appendages. Your mouth closes around his fingers, softly mewling as he lets them sit heavy on your tongue. A mix of his saliva and your arousal coats your taste buds for a moment before he tells you to open up for him.
“You look so good sucking on my fingers, baby,” he praises with a smug look on his face. You know his following words will disarm you, and they do! “Makes me wonder what you’d look like sucking on my dick instead.”
“Who says you have to wonder?” you smile teasingly, licking your lips as you palm him over his pants and squeeze.
Nothing could have prepared you for the guttural groan he releases or the thickness of his cock just yearning to be released.
“Fuck,” he huffs a laugh as he pushes you carefully to the wall behind you. His hand cups your face, kissing you hurriedly, as if you were going to disappear if he ever stopped.
You smile into the kiss, greedy hands running over his beautiful body until you link your fingers with his. Exchanging a few more sweet kisses and a few that surely raise your blood pressure, you separate long enough to loop a finger through the loop in his pants to lead him to his bed.
Hungrily, you kiss him, ignoring the rampant thumping of your heart as you unbutton his pants and tug the zipper down. You take a step back to get an eyeful of him in his boxers as you’re pulling his pants lower until he can kick them off.
You lick your lips as you take him in. Yoongi notes the way you’re biting your lip now, your heated gaze on the happy trail that disappears into his black boxers.
Yoongi’s hair falls over his eyes, a large veiny hand pushes it back and you’re once again enamored by his hands and the veins that seem so prominent tonight. For a moment you wonder what it would be like to have one wrapped around your throat while you lock eyes with him, breathless and whimpering as your eyes roll back and his cock splits you in two.
Fuck, you don’t think you would survive.
“Lost in thought, princess?” Yoongi checks in with a half smile that is very much cocky. You clench around nothing, realizing how empty your cunt feels and how desperately you want him in any of your holes. Hell, you’d let him fuck any of them at this point with the look he’s giving you. You nearly bend over and tell him to have his pick, but you regain your thoughts instead.
“Your hands,” you mutter weakly.
“What about them, baby?” he asks cockily, as if he doesn’t already know. But no, Min Yoongi wants you to work for it, to earn it.
“Want them wrapped around my throat.” you answer with a sigh.
“Is that so?” he queries with a raised brow.
You nod, licking your lips.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he smirks.
Not wanting to waste any more time, you push Yoongi onto his bed. He falls easily, his legs hanging over the edge from the knee below as he puts his arms under his head, awaiting your next move.
You gather every bit of courage within. One leg goes over his hips, straddling him. You seat your ass on his crotch, loving the way he’s looking at you, black hair splayed on his gray comforter in a mess of black loose curls.
Your hand rests beside his head, your hair falling in between you like a curtain as you lean in for a kiss. Yoongi is eager to kiss, to feel your body on his. He’s not sure what to expect, but he wants you to feel good. That alone is his primary concern.
However, the warmth of your body is enough to make his cock throb, more so when you’re kissing a trail from his lips, jaw, down to his neck. A messy splatter of kisses on his sensitive skin. His head turned to expose more of his honeyed skin, the beautiful slope of his neck soon covered with your kisses and love marks.
Yoongi is in paradise as each pass of your tongue is followed by a deep suck of your lips. Your teeth scrape his skin, deep moans escaping him as you suck a mark near his collarbone before you’re kissing down his chest, leaving little red marks in your wake.
Yoongi’s nearly panting by the time you reach his happy trail. He sits up on his elbows, hooded eyes following your every move as you palm him over the cotton material of his boxers. A shuddered breath escapes him followed by a soft groan that rattles you to the core.
“Don’t tease,” he breathes, head lolled back as your tongue runs over the bulge in his boxers. You giggle at his response, curses thrown into the ceiling as you pull his boxers down just a little.
A feather-light kiss is pressed just below his navel. A lick here, a suck there, and soon you’re tugging his boxers off all the way until he’s kicking them off to the side.
You’re both naked, and you take a moment to appreciate the beauty of his body. Every inch of him is perfect.
Cursing and biting your bottom lip, you take in his hard cock, thick and throbbing, as you wrap your hand around him. Slowly, you wrap your lips around the head, welcoming him into your warm mouth while he watches intently.
“Shit,” Yoongi curses, body thrumming with desire as he feels your tongue swirl around the head once, teasing the slit before taking more of him in your mouth. All he can do is watch with hooded eyes as you run your tongue over his length, a hand rolling his balls in your palm.
A heavenly sigh leaves Yoongi as he falls back onto his bed. You smile as you pull off him, your hand wrapped around his cock, using it to smear your saliva around him.
“Good?” you ask with a lilt in your voice that has Yoongi sitting up.
“Yes,” he admits, cheeks flushed pink.
Not wanting to disappoint, you take him back in your mouth, sucking and slurping messily as salvia pools at his pelvis with each bob of your head. His cock feels heavy on your tongue, pre-cum coating your taste buds and the head hitting the back of your throat, making you gag just a bit.
You do your best to maintain eye contact, but sucking him off makes your thighs quiver and your pussy wetter. Fuck, you need some sort of stimulation or perhaps maybe you can cum like this?
Yoongi runs his hand over your thigh, pulling you closer to him so you’re at his side instead of between his thighs. His large hand runs over your ass, groping it before his fingers are running between your wet folds.
“Fuck, you’re soaking wet, princess. Sucking my cock gets you this soaked?” he licks his lips, slowly rubbing your clit with his fingers.
You do your best to nod, gagging on his cock before releasing it with a gasping breath. Yoongi nearly loses it when he sees a bridge of saliva connecting your lips to his cock.
“Yes,” you’re too cock-hungry to lie to him, besides he can feel just how aroused you are from sucking him off. Your hand still strokes him, eyes focused on his dick as you take him back in your mouth working harder to suck him off.
Up and down you go, slurping obscenely and spitting on the head before sucking it back in your mouth. Yoongi grabs your hair, guiding you as you try to suck the soul out of him. Every dulcet sound that escapes him, fuels your desire to please him. You breathe through your nose, not wanting to part with him even for a second to catch your breath.
His hand stays laced in your hair, the other feeling the curve of your ass, smacking it to make you gasp and open your mouth wider. Yoongi growls, cursing before he’s pulling you off him.
“I wasn’t done,” you pout when you’re sitting up.
Yoongi chuckles, smiling in disbelief. “But I almost was.”
Your pout remains on your lips until he kisses it away.
“You can suck it until I cum down your throat next time, okay?” he asks, awaiting your response.
You nod. “Next time.”
Yoongi grins, kissing you once again and you easily straddle him, hand wrapped around his cock as you roll your hips.
“I want to be inside you so bad,” Yoongi admits in a low tone that makes you clench around nothing in anticipation.
“Say no more,” you press a kiss on his pretty lips as you raise your hips and line his cock up at your entrance. Slowly you sink on him, biting your bottom lip as you welcome the stretch of his thick cock.
“Fuck,” you exhale, feeling haggard as your ass finally hits his thighs and he bottoms out. Yoongi isn’t faring much better, a lustful groan escaping him as his eyes flutter shut and his cock throbs.
“Yeah,” he sighs, smiling as he takes you in. You smile bashfully, enjoying the feeling of being utterly full, thighs already trembling at his sides as his hands grip your hips, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin.
Slowly, you raise your hips, your hands planted firmly on his chest as you ride him. Yoongi’s hands move from your hips to your ass, grabbing and kneading as he enjoys the view of your tits bouncing as you ride his cock.
“Just like that, princess,” Yoongi’s tongue peeks out from the corner of his lips and it sends you into a frenzy, fucking him harder and faster. The loud slapping of skin fills your ears and if you weren’t so focused on your pleasure and his, you’d be utterly embarrassed.
“I can’t believe I’ve been missing out on this,” you groan, riding him harder. You love being so fucking full. You swear you can feel him in your belly, rearranging your insides and you nearly cream yourself thinking about it.
Yoongi chuckles. “All you had to do was ask, baby girl.”
You look at him, biting back a moan when he smacks your ass and soothes it with his palm after.
“If I had known, we would have been doing this from the get-go,” you feel your thighs giving out, panting as you slow and whimper when your muscles feel like they’re cramping.
Yoongi smirks. His eyes fixate on where your bodies are joined, watching his cock disappear inside you. Fuck, you two should have been doing this from the get-go. How many nights did he spend feeling guilty thinking of you with his hand wrapped around his cock and your name on his lips? And unbeknownst to him, you were getting off in your bedroom, mouthing his name with your head thrown back on the pillow, legs shaking and bed sheets soaked with your orgasm.
When Yoongi notices you’re slowing down, he rubs your leg before taking your hands in his and squeezing them. The sweet gesture has you stopping to roll your hips instead, curiously watching as he brings your joined hands to his lips, pressing kisses on all your fingers before he licks the tip of one.
This man is nothing but sinful.
“Come here,” he says, as his hand cups your face and he sits up to press his lips on yours, kissing you slowly. You moan into the kiss, melting at his touch, and before you know it, you’re on your hands and knees.
You giggle, looking at him over your shoulder as he strokes his cock, soaked with your arousal and his pre-cum.
“Fuck, baby. You look so good like this. Wanna cum all over your ass,” Yoongi curses again, his hand grabbing your ass and squeezing it. He spanks you gently, but you beg him to do it harder and he complies.
You moan into the pillow below you, only to be pulled up by your hair.
“Those moans are mine, princess. Let me hear them,” he smirks when he sees you clench, pussy glistening with your essence as he slides home.
“Yoongi!” you gasp, hands gripping the sheets beneath you. Yoongi chuckles, setting a pace that leaves you breathless as his hand smacks your ass again and again, the sting of his hand matching the one on your ass.
Yoongi curses, licking his lips as he fucks you. Your sweet moans go straight to his dick, mind reeling with lust as he fucks your harder, deeper, just to draw out those dulcet moans that make him want to stuff you full of his cum.
“Yoongi!” you breathe, clinging to his hand and begging for more as your hips meet each of his thrusts. Yoongi grunts, watching the jiggle of your ass with each of his thrusts. You’re soaking wet, so warm and delicious wrapped around him. His head falls back, shaking his hair out of his eyes as a sheen of sweat coats your body and his. Fuck, if he knew you felt this amazing he would have confessed sooner just to feel you wrapped around his cock.
Yoongi is losing his mind, filth spilling from his lips as his eyes fixate on the way you take his cock, creaming around him as he goes. You’re so needy, so impatient, you fuck yourself on his dick. He chuckles, smacking your ass when it meets his pelvis as your thighs tremble and your hands shake until you fall face first into the pillows, inhaling his scent.
Yoongi chuckles, clicking his tongue as he takes mercy on you. He pulls out, laughing when you whine at the loss of his fat cock. He helps you onto your back, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips before he’s sinking into you, your legs wrapped around his hips to draw him close. Fuck, you’d never unravel yourself from his hips if you could help it. With Yoongi above you, black hair mussed, lips pink from kissing, and beautiful buff chest, you’d say you were in heaven.
Yoongi smirks, almost as if he could hear your thoughts, and it causes you to clench around him. A guttural groan escapes him, hips stuttering as he grabs your breast, fingers teasing your nipple.
“Behave,” he grunts as you tighten around him again. His name rolls off your tongue, your hands running over his body before settling on his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, pulling him close as your lips connect.
Yoongi doesn’t stop fucking you, he slows his pace, rolling his hips instead and hitting all those spots that make you see stars when your eyes flutter shut. You moan, melting beneath him as you kiss him deeply, all teeth and tongues as your moans are muffled in between.
You’re so close. You can feel it deep in your abdomen and in the quivering of your legs, in the tingles that run down your spine and the pulsating of your cunt. Yoongi groans, face buried in your neck, teeth scraping along your sensitive skin, marking you as his.
“Fuck, baby. I’m close,” he admits in a deep, grave tone that sends your stomach flipping.
“Come inside,” you plead, tightening around him.
Yoongi hisses, dark eyes locked on yours. He kisses you one more time, your name on his lips as his hips slam into you, his fingers rubbing your clit as he listens for the rise in octaves until you’re coming undone and taking him with you.
With one last grunt of your name, he spills inside you, coating you generously as he rocks his hips until he’s spent and pulling out.
Yoongi lies beside you, smiling brightly when you look at him. You grin, curling into his side and he welcomes you eagerly.
“Fuck, princess,” he breathes with his arm draped over his chest as he tries to regulate his breathing. “You nearly killed me.”
You giggle, rolling your eyes. “Shut up! I won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”
Yoongi smirks, pleased with himself. “Good.”
You grin, too spent to tease him further. Yoongi is content lying with you at his side, tiny kisses exchanged between you until you’re falling asleep in his arms.
Heat surrounds your body as you sleepily blink your eyes open. A yawn threatens to slip past your lips as you try to stretch in your spot but realize you can’t. A warm weight sits on your waist, a dark mop of hair rests on your chest and flashes of last night hit you head on.
You smile shyly at the memories, flushing with heat as you try to wiggle out of Yoongi’s hold and you remember the night you’d spent with him just like this.
“Stop moving,” comes his sleep-addled voice, a groan leaving him as he tightens his arm around you, snuggling further into your chest. You giggle softly, fingers scratching at his scalp until he’s unwinding himself from you and hastily kisses your lips.
“Morning,” he says, throwing his arms in the air to stretch and then running a hand through his hair. He sits silent for a few moments, and fear spikes up inside you. Did he regret it?
“It’s too early to be up, baby. Can we go back to sleep?” he asks with a sleepy grin. You sigh in relief.
“Sure,” you say. “We can sleep some more. In fact, we don’t have to get out of bed at all.”
“Don’t tempt me,” he nearly growls as he captures your lips with his, kissing you deeply. You moan, eyes fluttering shut as your hand grabs his hair at the nape of his neck. Yoongi curses, tongue twining with yours and soon you’re spreading your legs for him, welcoming him in.
Yoongi settles between your thighs. A soft exchange of kisses keeps him at your lips. Groans and soft moans of your name fill his bedroom as your hand wraps around his length, already hard and dribbling pre-cum. You press your thumb to the slit, coating the head with it before you’re popping it into your mouth.
“Fuck, princess. Keep doing stuff like that and I won’t last long,” Yoongi admits, pressing his lips to yours as you stroke his cock slowly, teasing him by rubbing the head on your clit until you’re lining him up at your entrance.
Yoongi locks eyes with you, one hand gripping yours, fingers laced as he sinks into you all at once.
You groan, arching slightly and biting back a moan at the slight pain of the stretch. It’s a delicious ache that makes your body tingle as his name rolls off your tongue and your nails dig into his back, dragging down his skin to leave pink welts in their wake.
“You’re determined to make me come already, aren’t you?” he asks with a half-smile. You nod, pressing your lips to him and pulling him closer as he pulls out, leaving the tip inside before he’s sliding home again. Yoongi’s hair clouds his vision and you push it out of the way, wanting to see his pretty eyes, cute nose, and perfect lips. He’s truly a vision to behold and now he’s yours. All yours.
Without warning, Yoongi sets a mouth-watering pace that leaves you breathless with each thrust. The headboard slams against the wall, your legs tremble as they try to cling to his waist and your hand is digging at the sheets beneath you in search of anything to hold on to.
Each roll of his hips, and each guttural groan and moan of your name has you spiraling head first into your first orgasm of the day, because if you think this is it, you’re gladly mistaken. Yoongi won’t be able to keep his hands to himself now that he’s yours. Now that you’re his. He’s tasted every bit of you and he’d be damned if he could ever give you up now.
“Cum with me, princess. Want to feel you cum all over my cock. Fucking cream it if you want,” Yoongi breathes, sweat beaded on his forehead between his brows.
“Yes! Fuck, please,” you plead as his thumb rubs your clit and his lips pepper kisses across your collarbones before he’s nuzzled into your neck, his dulcet moans melting into your skin as you hug him close, begging him to make you cum.
“Oh, fuck! Yoongi!” you cry out as your body quakes from the force of your orgasm. Yoongi right behind as he groans heavenly into your neck, cursing as he rolls his hips until he’s utterly spent.
“Oh, fuck! Yoongi!” Jimin’s eyes widened as he stepped into your apartment unannounced with his own key.
Surely he couldn’t have heard correctly?
Spider meows in greeting at seeing a Jimin, immediately wrapping around his leg as the door falls shut behind him.
“Yoongi!” This time there’s no mistaking it! Jimin burns scarlet as he scoops up Spider. He hastily opens the door of the hall closet, singing “la la la” at the top of his lungs, though you rival him when another moan fills the apartment. Man, do you have a set of lungs or what?
“Don’t you worry, baby girl. I’m getting you out of here!” Jimin opens the stroller, attaching the leash to Spider’s collar and zipping the stroller shut as he opens the front door. Spider meows, startling Jimin as another pleasurable moan filters through the home.
“Bye! Taking my cat niece to my place! Ya nasties! Text me later!” Of course, Jimin gets no response as he shuts the front door so hard it rattles. He shakes his head as he heads down the hall, looking at Spider through the netting of the stroller.
“You know, this isn’t what I meant when I said she should take Yoongi.”
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FINESHRINE | John Price x F!Reader
It surprised you when he’d taken your off-handed comment about wanting to fuck him senseless for a change as something sincere, obtainable, and simply looked at you, plain-faced, if a little bashful around the edges, and said, “alrigh’, love. Lemme see what you got.”
Or—John Price finally gets pegged.
WARNINGS: 18+, SMUT—pegging, rimming, anal fingering; bottom John Price; soft dom!John; topping from the bottom
WORD COUNT: 5,3k.
His skin tastes of brackish water—briny, salty; mossy—when you slip your tongue over the tight ring of muscles clenching like a vice around two fingers. The stranglehold of his flesh feels like it might cut off the circulation to your veins, digits bluing under the strain, the clutch.
It’s almost the same tension as wrapping several rubber bands around your appendages until the tips turn garishly purple, nails bright vermillion. It's tight.
You pull back, fingers easing out of him until only your first knuckle remains locked in his iron hold, pushing and throbbing around the intrusion. Your tongue slides over the raw rim, easing the ache, the sting, you know must be there.
The same soothing motion he’d used on you many, many times.
He must recognise the pattern. It makes him huff.
“Don’t stop, love,” he husks, voice the consistency of wet papier-mâché in your clenched palm. “C’mon—”
“Price—”
Your murmur is swallowed when he notches his hip, taking more of your fingers into himself, tightening around you like a vice when your palm is flush against his perineum.
“Fuck—,” his groan is airy. Light. “Ain’t gonna shatter me, kitten. Jus’ – jus’ keep fuckin’ me, yeah?”
It snatches the breath from your lungs in a way that leaves you dizzy.
It surprised you when he’d taken your off-handed comment about wanting to fuck him senseless for a change as something sincere, obtainable, and simply looked at you, plain-faced, if a little bashful around the edges, and said, “alrigh’, love. Lemme see what you got.”
Even then, even with his acceptance, his willingness, you hadn’t believed him. Hadn’t even given it another thought.
Not until he looked at you, brows raised when you spread your legs for him, baring your cunt to his smouldering gaze, and said:
“When is it my turn, love?”
And okay. Okay.
Price wanted you to fuck him. To split him apart with your plastic cock until he came, clenching like a vice around the mocking imitation of you, and—
Sure. Yeah.
Why not?
So, you do.
It takes three weeks to work up the nerve, and another two to find the toy you like, to research everything, to plan, prepare.
You sit him down and have discussions, much to his unfathomable bemusement.
It's when his hand curls over the nape of your neck, thumb pressing against the soft curve of bone behind your ear, and drags you close to him, noses pressed flush together, do you see the sincerity in ashlar blue. His rasp, then, of you weren't this hesitant, this careful, when I said I wanted to stick my cock in your arse. You were raring to go that night. So, why are you acting like I'm some blushing little virgin, hm? You think I can't take it? brings everything back into focus.
Right. This isn't about you.
Well. It is. But it's about—
"Us," cambium soft, the word slips from the seam of his teeth, festering like a sickness in the thick atmosphere between you. "This is an experience for us."
It’s only when you have a lovely cock strapped around your pelvis—dual pleasure, the package read (a must, Price insisted: he wanted you to cum when you were inside of him, the words leaving his mouth—you’re gonna cum when you fuck me, yeah? Cum while you’re inside of me, kitten—nearly sending you to an early grave, and a desire so deep, you soaked the gusset of your panties with your slick)—a bottle of lube, and a mountain of pegging knowledge nestled in the fibrils of your head do you even begin to feel ready. Eager.
You want this. It surprises you just how much you do.
Price is a bulwark. A curtain wall. He’s untouchable, unmoveable.
And you—
You get to see him break. Get to fracture him down into little pieces in the palm of your hand, the blunt press of your—cock—
—and then make him whole again. Patch him back together.
“Fuck—!”
The expletive is snapped out between clenched teeth when you add a third, final, finger. Your tongue follows along, slipping between the spread of them, chasing more of his taste.
“Bloody fuckin’ hell—,” he snarls the curse out, chest heaving when your fingers graze his puffy prostate, swollen and full from the nearly hour-long abuse by the tips butting into it over and over again. “Christ, pretty thing. Where the fuck did you learn this?”
You pull back, a strand of spit and lube following you from his soaked, spread hole. You wait for him to look at you, to glance between his massive thighs, and see—
Broken sapphire falls to your face, flushed cheeks darkening when he catches sight of your wet mouth, your hand buried between his legs, beneath his throbbing, leaking cock, and the groan he lets out makes your pussy ache.
His head falls back, eyes snapping shut. The muscles in his thick neck bunch, veins throbbing.
Price clenches around you fluttering in tandem with each jerk of his turgid cock.
The sight of him sends something blustering through your core, rippling down your spine. It stabs through the thick tissue around your heart until you're gasping from the ache of it all. The want.
It’s intoxicating. This power, this dominion over him.
The way you can pleasure him with gentle notches of just your fingertips, the flat seam of your tongue laving over his flexing, fluttering flesh—a place only you have ever claimed, taken. Touched, licked. Fingered. Fucked.
Something gnarls behind your ribs—an ugly, noxious, greedy thing—and the spores it releases seep into your bloodstream, into your marrow.
He's yours. All yours.
Just like you're his.
Implicit.
And John has already assured you of this—many, many times—but it's somehow infinitely different, more intimate, and possessive, than anything else you'd ever experienced.
It's bare, raw trust.
He wants this. Asked for it. Asked you for it. He wants to share this moment of vulnerability, the base reversal of traditional roles, with you. Only you.
Affection blooms in your chest, and the spillover makes you tremble. Makes you want. Yearn.
You want to make him feel heavenly. To feel the same potent Nirvana you do when he fucks the tight clutch of your cunt, pounding bliss into your synapses.
An experience shared by both of you.
He's been inside of you. And now—
"C'mon, love," he pants, drawing your attention.
In your periphery, you catch the sight of his hands fisting the sheets so tightly, his knuckle blanching under the strain.
When you lift your gaze from the mess you've made between his firm thighs, you find nothing but blistering desperation in the cut of blue.
He holds your stare for a moment—liquid sapphire pools brimming with desire, with want; with something so achingly tender, so vulnerable, you feel it bludgeon into your chest like a battering ram to your pericardium—and then, softly, softer than you'd ever heard him speak, he says your name. Just your name.
You echo it with his own, the utterance drenched in your devotion, an orison spilled over into the honey-thick air that pulses between you.
It drums through your veins, the steady plume of a hummingbird's wings, and everything that isn't this—you and him: bathed in a diaphanous fragility, an epoch in the making, and weaved together with the brassbound threads of devotion, trust—dissipates into ash.
He stares at you, drinking in the heat in your irises, the deep pools of want in your eclipsing pupils. There is a smoulder under your skin, the steady burn of a low-grade fever. The current of anticipation thrums in your veins.
Your eyes drop, gazing at the hardened length of him laying fat and heavy against his quivering stomach. Prespend leaks from the tip, puddles on his naval. Each minuscule movement of your fingers makes him twitch, and more of his milky release stains his flushed skin.
He burns inside. A molten heat that envelops you. The squeeze of him stops the tremors in your joints, the quake born from your own nerves, uncertainty.
You don't want to hurt him—ever. The thought churns in your guts, sour and acrid, and wells up like you'd drunk bleach concentrate from the nozzle. Noxious, polluting. The thought alone has your mouth knotting to the side.
"What're you thinkin' about?"
Your chin snaps up. Price gazes at you, cheeks flushed, forehead wrinkled, creased with his syphoned concern.
"I—," you swallow, tasting him on your tongue. "I don't want to hurt you."
John doesn't say anything. Not for a moment. A beat. He stares at you, plain. Open. His brow twitches, a flex. A throb.
When he exhales, you feel it against your joints.
"You're not gonna hurt me."
You swallow again, eyes dropping to his thighs. Quivering. Bunched tight. Muscles coiled.
"Love. Look at me."
It's a command.
Your eyes flicker to him. Dutiful soldier even when you're three fingers deep inside of your captain.
"Sir—," you bite your tongue over the word, the accidental slip. But the way he clenches around you, cock twitching, spitting a thick puddle of prespend over his belly, you don't think he minds.
"Fuck, love," his voice is a pulsing wound. "You're not going to hurt me, alright?"
You nod. It's pulled out of you. A magnetic acquiescence in the face of your superior, your lover. A man you're undoing with little flicks of your fingers, knuckles. Tongue.
"Lemme hear you, kitten," he rasps, words sticking together when you slide your middle finger over the soft bump inside of him. "Always, yeah? Wanna hear you say it."
"Yes," you breathe. "I won't hurt you."
"Good—," he shifts, clearing his throat. His Adam's apple buoys when he swallows, muscles flexing in his throat. A bead of sweat runs down his hairline and you have the sudden urge to chase it with your tongue. "Now—come on. Been at it long enough. Gonna make me cum if you don't stop it with those little fingers—that fucking tongue."
Your head lifts higher. Price catches your gaze again, eyes lidded and heavy. Cheeks dusted pink with desire.
"Hurry up, and fuck me."
It takes everything inside of you not to whimper. Fuck me. Fuck me. The words ring in your ears, reverberating around your head in a ceaseless crescendo.
Your fingers tremble when you give one last thrust, spreading them wide apart, and feeling the resistance around the rim. The stretch. You know the burn. The sting.
"Ah, Christ—"
And the pressure. The fullness. The feeling of being pried slowly, agonisingly apart. The tension coils. Builds. You can only imagine he's feeling it too when you scissor your fingers once more, leaning down to tease your tongue between the wedges of your digits.
It's a good stretch when it's like this. When the muscles loosen, going lax. Soft. Malleable.
You take a steadying breath, easing your thundering nerves, and letting everything else fade away until Price, his pleasure, sits on a carved strait.
You pull away, fingers slipping gingerly from him. A shudder wracks his chest, and you reach out with one hand, curling your fingers over the thick length of him. His cock throbs in your hold, skin wet, sticky from his spend.
"Are you—"
"Yes."
It's bitten out through his teeth. A snapped affirmation. Quick, decisive.
It draws a nod from you, lashes fluttering when you swallow.
"Okay. Tell me if it's too much."
The skin of his palm is searing, sandpaper rough, when it folds over your own still loosely gripping his cock. The contrast between his raw palm and the velveteen softness of his cock is familiar. Comforting. His thick thumb circles your webspace.
"You know I will," he says, thick. Sincerity bleeds into the vowels. Reassurance rings in the rounded consonants. "I remember the safe word and all."
"I know. But it can be a bit much, and—"
His hand tightens, eyes flash. "If I didn't want this, do you think I'd be here?"
Another swallow. It sticks at the bottom of your throat. "Okay."
"Come on, love," he urges, an ashy demand that plucks against the fibrils of your heart. "Been waitin' for it."
His words pulse in your head, in your cunt. You moan a little at the aching want in his voice, the rough desire.
Price gives one last squeeze of his hand before letting you slip away, thumb sliding over the weeping head, gathering his prespend on your flesh. It makes him suck in a sharp breath, eyes fluttering in pleasure.
He takes over, holding his cock firm at the base when you lean back on your haunches.
Your nerves spark when you reach for the bottle of lube. It's tacky. Sticky. You'd already used half just fucking him open. Steady, you think, struggling to find some sense of control amid the rapid thunder of your pulse. Your guts churn, featherlight, but it's the gossamer of want that simmers beneath it all that piques across your spine.
You're going to fuck him.
Spumes of desire lick up from the flames that billow inside you, and in the red-hot ache of your molten core makes you feel fervid. Feverish. It melts your nerves into liquid metal that hardens, ironclad, brassbound, into a near-perfect equilibrium of galvanised need.
You're going to fuck him.
You pour a generous amount into the palm of your hand, letting it puddle in the cup you make before carefully lowering it to place between your legs where the fake cock juts out from your pelvis.
The toy is a little cold when you touch it with your slick fingers. You grab it loosely in your fist, pumping your hand up and down, rubbing the excess over the mushroomed head, and then back to the base.
The heat of your skin bleeds into the polymer. The added friction makes it feel warmer than it had before. It still feels of plastic—fake, rubbery—and as it sits between your curled fingers, you know it isn't real, that it isn't pulsing flesh and tissue; but it feels—different.
A novice experience. A first for both of you.
Your eyes flicker to John, to his heavy, thick cock grasped in his hand. The tightness of his knuckles wrapped around his turgid flesh makes you suck in a deep breath, nearly choking on it when it tickles your trachea.
He looks good with his legs parted, thigh notched up and spread. Cock bobbing in the V of them, leaking over his closed fist.
"John…"
"Ready, love?"
There is something in his voice that gives you pause. It's deep. Gritty. Pulverised desire whispered in his rasping lilt.
You glance up at him, searching his gaze, his expression. John's brows are drawn tightly together, knotted in the centre. The divot between is not from unease, or distress. Anger. Irritation. Hesitance.
The thick cock in his hands twitches again, prespend pooling at the tip.
Oh.
You swallow, and taste humus in the back of your throat.
"I am," you breathe, belly bubbling, roiling, with want.
Pleasure sparks down your spine when you move, shuffling toward to settle between his spread thighs.
It brings heat to your cheeks, your chest, when you feel the movement of the toy inside of you. It does very little to pass as anything like Price with the smaller tapered end nestled within you, curved tip rubbing behind your pubic bone. But it's the idea of fucking him that makes your blood feel red-hot in your veins than the snug plastic grazing against your walls.
The other end juts forward, knocking against Price's knee. It leaves a smear of lube behind.
"Take a deep breath," you murmur, hand gripping the plastic base as the other settles behind his stretched thigh, holding him open. Lifting him higher. The thought has your pulse racing. Sputtering.
"Speaking from experience, eh?" he rasps, liqueur-rich. When you lift your gaze, you see humour cut in cerulean ashlar. "Or sage wisdom?"
"Both," you volley back. "My cock isn't nearly as big as yours, but taking deep, even breaths will help you relax."
"Your cock?" His eyes gleam in the jaundiced light spilling over from the lantern beside the bed. "Gonna fuck me with your cock, then?"
Your eyes flutter. A paroxysm blistering through you. Your tongue grazes the whetstone of your lower lips, shredding it into a blunt point.
"Yeah, I am." Your voice is pitched low, sultry. The decibels dropped, dripping with the glaze of bold, impish confidence. "Are you ready for me, John?"
His chest expands, lips curling up behind the wry hairs of his beard.
It's aided by the ease in which he sprawls out for you, letting you bend his legs, hitching them below your arms, and pulling you hungrily into the apex of his spread thighs, that fortifies your mettle.
"Always, love."
The facsimile of your cock nudges against his slick hole. It spreads around the head, rim widening, flexing, around plastic until it's swallowed by his reddened flesh. Disappeared into the clutch of him. The first inch. He huffs at the stretch, the feeling of you slipping inside.
You push, burrowing in deeper until his ass is flush against you. Cock swallowed whole.
You pull back, and his rim suctions against you, pulling taut around your cock. You trace the seam with your eyes, breath caught in your throat. Your hips cant, a soft roll, all the way until you're buried deep.
"I'm—"
"—fuck."
The throaty groan makes your head snap up, eyes fixed on Price, and the sight that greets you is nearly your undoing.
Cheeks flushed a deep vermillion, jaw clenched taut—he looks good. Looks like it feels good. His head is tossed back on the pillow, broad thighs spread apart to fit you between them as you sloppily pound into his ass.
And it's you. You making him feel this way, breaking him apart at the seams.
The slap of your thighs hitting his ass is the perfect parody of when he has you bent over, taking him deep, and you feel it in your head with each clap, each noise that spills from between the two of you. A microcosm, a place, where only you and he exist in tandem.
"Does it feel good?" You pant, hips rutting into him, sitting low to hit the grove of his prostate with each thrust.
It forces a rough bark of laughter from his lips, chest expanding with it. "Fuckin' cheeky little thing—"
His words are cut off when you grind into him, hips pressed flush against him.
"Oh, shit—"
Your hands fall from his shins, pressing flat to the mattress under his arms. He's too tall for you to bend over him the way he does when he's fucking you, or when you're on top, balanced on his lap, and you settle for coming to his chin when you lean over him.
His eyes are wildfires, smouldering embers. The lick of flames is a magnetic dance in endless pools of sapphire, brimstone. You seek him out, eager, rapacious. Greed gnarls inside of you; a basal bud, a dormant seedling, now fed, nurtured. It springs up, roots taking refuge in the fibrils of your beings, locking tight to your cells, molecules, and leaching sustenance from your appetency as you take him.
Take, take, take.
A moth drawn, haplessly, to the light that sways, hypnotic, in front of it, you have no choice but to go. Instinct, primal and starved, lead you to him.
His hand threads into your hair, cupping the back of your skull. Price pulls you close until his warm, wet mouth meets yours in the middle.
It's messy, breathless. You can't stop gasping at each noise he makes when your cock hits deep, the blunt, polymer head grinding against him. He groans into the kiss each time, breath heavy and thick. The hair on his chest grazes your nipples. The rough scrape of his beard chafes your skin until it's raw, irritated. Stinging like a sunburn.
Through it all, Price holds you steady. Letting you take. Explore. Rut into him however you like, knowing—trusting—that whatever it is you do, however you decide to shift your hips, it'll be good.
It's new. Different.
You venture through this unfamiliar arena on fawn-like feet, stumbling around under the lush peat beneath you. Scrambling for purchase, for some sense of stability. Clarity. Control.
A foothold, solid ground, is found when you strike his prostate with the eager tip of your plastic cock, and he huffs, startled, into the wet seam of your mouth, cool breath ghosting over your scorching tongue.
You're good at patterns. At geometry. Linearity. Lines and parallels.
You remember the place, the angle; head running through the minutiae of the movement, the sway of your hips, the placement of your knees, until it tangles inside the sulci of your hippocampus.
A steady rhythm grows amid the clumsy cants of your hips, shaping, forming, into a dance you can fall into easily.
His mouth slides over your chin, your jaw, a trail of spittle following it, cooling on your skin with each little stutter of his breath washing over you.
John isn't usually vocal in the bedroom. His noises are reserved. Pulled from the threads of his chest, wrenched through the barbed lining of his throat. They're deep, low. Rasping curls of grunts. Ashy growls. All soaked in petrol. The rumbling of an old car engine. Brassy. Baritone.
But as you quicken your pace, you punch little gasps from his lungs that he can't stifle under the harsh grind of his teeth.
It's—
Incredibly appealing. Addicting.
He tastes of nicotine when you bring your mouth back to his, devouring the hickory tang on his tongue. It slides down your esophagus where it puddles in your guts; a heady elixir that seeps through your tissue, into your bloodstream. Ichor thick.
"God," you gasp into the messy wetness of his lips. "It feels good—"
The toy rubs the walls of your cunt with each blunt press of your hips notching into his ass, and the pressure of it makes everything feel real. Potent.
Your slick fingers grip his massive thighs in your hands, leaving indents where your nails dig into his flesh, finding purchase. You fuck him in deep, full thrusts that make heat coil inside of you. Steady. A building tempo.
Each roll makes him grunt, groan. Short huffs leave his broad chest, punched out through gritted teeth when you sink to the base, cock kissing his prostate.
His belly quivers. One hand falls to your forearm, the other gripping your hip. He pulls you in deeper, fingers locked tight around your hip bone, and you let him lead, let him guide you how he likes.
"Fuck," he breathes, fingers leaving the stain of him on your skin as he rolls your hip, cock bludgeoned into his prostate, grinding over it. "Like that—oh, fuck—jus' like that—"
"Yeah?" You tease, teeth nipping the coarse hair trailing down his neck. The angle makes the head of his cock rub, slick and wet, against your sternum, his knuckles pressed into the valley between your ribs. "Feels good, John? Like it when I fuck you deep, huh?"
"Ahhh, you little bugger—you, uhh, fuck—you fuckin' menace—"
You pull back, settling between his thighs.
"Gonna like this even better, I reckon."
You punctuate the promise with a sharp snap of your hips, pausing only when you're seated deep, letting the blunt head cudgel against him.
Another thrust makes you whimper when the flat harness presses taut to your throbbing clit.
"You feel good, John—," your head tips back, hands spasming around his sticky skin as you rut into him. Your eyes are heavy, lidded with soporific bliss that bleeds into your synapses. "You feel so good, so so—"
You're babbling. Words leak out between your slack jaw, but you can't swallow them down with the static in your head, the bliss in the joints of your fingers, and palms, as you feel his broad thighs tensing under you.
Seated deep, hips gyrating against him, your hand falls to his throbbing cock, leaking rivulets of prespend over his taut abdomen. You stroke him in time with your shallow thrusts, eyes fixed on the way his brow folds, eyelids wrinkling when he squeezes them shut.
His lip curls up, teeth are bared, cusses spat between the grind of his molars.
"Shit—shit—"
It's snarled out of his heaving chest.
A blunt jab to your sternum knocks the air from your heaving lungs when his gyre blue eyes snap open, piercing into the white haze that clots behind your retinas.
The veering of his jaw, teeth gnashing together as he struggles to hold his composure, has liquid pleasure clogging the filament lacing down your spine, weaving through the gaps in your bones, leaking into the spongy marrow below.
Your head buzzes with an opiate gossamer of bliss spooling inside of you with each motion you make. Each noise you drag out of him.
Price groans—a low, needy sound rucked from his chest, punched out through the cant of your hips into him, cockhead burrowing into his prostate—and then he's cumming. Spasming around the toy as you ride him through it, fucking into him in deep, languid bucks of your hips.
"That's it, baby," you gasp, voice thin, airy, arching over the words as his cum lashes over his broad, sweat-slicked chest. His eyes snap shut again, fingers curled around your forearms as you thrust your cock into the spasming clutch of him. "Cum for me, cum for me, John—"
His voice is effervescent, aerated when he groans your name out in a pitched drawl. "Fuckin' Christ—that's it, that's it—feels so fucking good, fuck, fuck—"
"Fuck," your running tally of curses stacks up. This one is breathless; a sandpaper husk. The next one that leaves his lips is deep. Oceanic. "Fuck, love."
Price's hands are firebrands when they roam over your flesh, tugging you down to his sweat-slicked chest, and tucking you into the fold of his embrace.
He opens his mouth, lips rucking up in the same shape of another cuss, but you beat him to it, stealing the word from his tongue with your own. He rumbles into the kiss; the low growl deep enough to rattle the bones in your chest.
It's wet. Messy. The clumsy, sloppy melding of your lips, tongue lolling out, filling the chasm of his heat where he tastes of smooth cigars and bitter scotch.
Spittle dribbles down your chin as your tongue lashes over his teeth. It draws a mirthful puff of hair through his nose; a chuff.
"Makin' a mess of me tonight, ain't you?"
You make a show of rolling your tongue under his bottom lip, smile curling up at the corners with the tickle of his hair grazing your flesh.
Peppering kisses into the corner of his mouth, you murmur: "you just look good messy."
"Yeah?" He husks, lids dropping, lashes cresting over glacial blue. "So do you."
It drags a twee from the depths of your chest, prickling along the flutter of your heart. "We look good all messy, then."
"Fuckin' right we do."
He shifts, and the motion makes him groan a little under his breath. You catch the draw of his brow, a little valley of discomfort, and reach for him, hand settling on his chest.
"Sore?"
One lid lifts half-mass as he mulls it over. "Tender," he settles on, shifting once again. "Nothin' too bad."
"You'll get used to it."
He lists toward you, lips curling into a waggish grin. "That right?"
John lifts his arm, chin jerking in a soft beckon toward. You follow the wordless command, sidling into the open bracket of his side, careful not to jostle him too much. He's strong. Resilient. Having his ass split open on your cock (left hanging on the end-table in some parody of a war trophy, glistening with the sheen of lube in the flushed light of the lamp) isn't enough to barrel him down, but there is something about this tender moment that makes you want to care for him. To coddle him. To hold him tight to your chest, and never let go.
You won't ever tell him that, of course. Never. He's too proud, too practical, for your bare sentimentality in this tender moment, but you give it to him, anyway. Small motions. Giving little by little before he can't catch on to what you're doing.
You brush your fingers over his chest, soothing the quiver in his stomach, and perch your chin on his arm. There is no distress in the cut of his brow, the dip in his lids. Drenched in torpor, satiated, and still dusted pink with glow of his pleasure, his heated release, he looks good. Satisfied.
It makes you sink your teeth into your chapped bottom lip to stem the broad grin from stretching over your face.
"Takes some practice, but I think we broke you in quite nicely."
A sharp snort jostles you. "Yeah, you did."
John's hand rests on your hip, thumb rubbing circles into your skin. "How're you feeling?"
"Sore," you pout. "Tired. It's hard work. Next time you should be on top."
"Right," he huffs. "I'd snap you half, love."
"I can take it," you hum, fingers carting through the matted hair on his damp, slick chest. "Plus, think of the view I'd have."
His chest rumbles when he laughs. "Yeah, and think of the backache I'd have."
"I'll give you a backrub," you murmur, tilting your head down to press a soft kiss into his breastplate.
"Hm."
Price eases into the mattress, eyes lidded. Heavy. In the absence of your playful volley, a question weighs in the back of your head, needling through you. Something soft. Fragile. Achingly uncertain.
It feels silly to be so clumsy, so hesitant, when moments ago you were buried inside of him. And yet—
You lick your lips, tasting him on your tongue. Stalling. Hedging.
A thick mass wells in your throat. You feel your pulse throb in the thick of it.
"Did you… did you like it?"
Price sucks in a sharp breath at the ginger utterance, eyes rolling up to the stark white ceiling as he considers the weight behind your question.
You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, waiting.
When he turns back to you, chin dipping down, something cracks. The muskeg splinters, splits.
There is something almost liquid, open, about the way he looks. As if a wall had fallen. The deep moor around him eroded, washed into the chasm that surrounds him. The sediment settles at the bottom of the trench, making the untraversable waters shallower than they were before.
His voice is featherlight when he speaks, eyes are limned in the lantern, framed in gold. When he drags his fingers over your skin, the tips are leaden. Heavy.
"Yeah, love. I did."
You settle into his side, tension bleeding from your marrow.
He sometimes says that his hard edges are buffered by the softness inside of you; giving and tender. But you're not a smooth surface. You're porous and gritty. You scour the abrasiveness off of him, and he, in turn, makes you rougher.
That sentiment has never been more apparent now when he cups your jaw in his worn, rough palm, the cracked, cry pads of his fingers scraping over the plush give of your cheek.
Your emotions coalesce into a deluge, cascading through your being with a visceral intensity. When you try to reach out and grasp one, it slips through your fingers.
You settle, instead, for sleepily lying your head on his chest, crown buffeted by the plinth of his palm, and run figure-eights into the damp, coarse curls matters to his chest.
"Good," you murmur, and try to ignore the thunderclap in your chest. The too tight feeling clutching at you in the aftermath of an epoch, the shattering of a wall.
His chest wobbles under your hand. When you lift your graze, you find his eyes filling with the same uncatchable emotion that curls in the brackets of your ribs, gnarling its ironclad roots over the soft tissue of your chest.
Featherlight. Evanescent. Nothing but he and you, and the feeling of his skin, the taste of him on your tongue, exist in the cosm that lingers, honey-thick, between you.
It catches in your throat. Sticking in the empty spaces of your being when his lids flutter, lashes fanning over his roseate cheeks.
The weight of his stare is a brand on your flesh. You want to run from it, and bask in its glow. Hold it tight to your chest with your trembling hands, and never let it go.
It's the breaking of everything that settles low inside of you. Too much, too soon.
It's easy to cover up the whirlpool of your emotions with false bravado. With a jest.
And so, you do.
"'Cause, I'm ready for round two whenever you are."
"Cheeky little—"
(You tuck it away for later, content to just feel the steady rise of his chest beneath your palm when he laughs.)
#well#ticked this bad boy off my bucket list#Captain John Price#John Price#Captain Price#omgggggggggggg#cod john price#cod price#captain john price x reader#captain john price x you#john price x reader#john price x you#price x reader#captain price x reader#captain price x you#cod fanfic#cod price x reader#AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
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Make Me Bad
(drabble)
pairings- dbf! heisenberg x fem! reader
cw- age gap (reader is in her 20s), consent isn’t established so use your imagination ig, unprotected sex, they get caught at the end ꨄ
⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅
Your father’s garage is the place you’ve grown to know all to well. He spends 90% of his free-time there, drinking, watching his confusing sports on TV, or on rare occasion, fixing up his bike.
That’s when his good friend, Heisenberg, comes around. Though lately, it seems every time you make an appearance at your dad’s house, he’s there, even if they’re not working on anything.
He lounges on the couch, puffing from his cigar, dirty shoes hiked up on the table in front of the TV and blocking your view. Your dad cracks open a new case of beer just for him and they watch whatever’s on for hours, yapping about modern times and how different things are now.
Heisenberg hates your generation of people. Says they’re all too sensitive and cancel friendly, blames it on too much internet access. But he excludes you from that sector.
He thanks your father for raising you properly, gifting you with correct opinions especially in music, same as his. He feels like he can talk to you like one of the guys, not having to worry about offending you with something controversial that spills out of his mouth.
But he also knows you’re not one of the guys. You’re a woman. A woman he’s been dying to get his grimy hands on.
So when your dad takes off to the corner store on a beer run leaving the two of you secluded, he’s on you within minutes.
He takes you right on the couch, rushing to have his way as he knows your dad won’t be long.
With one knee on the cushion beside you, the other on the floor, he holds your leg over his shoulder stuffing his cock into your gummy walls. He may be old, but he undeniably has game.
He quiets your sweet moans with his own mouth, lips pressing forcefully against yours, teeth clashing from the roughness put into his thrusts. His scruffy facial hair irritates your skin, but you’re distracted by all the other sensations he’s giving you.
“yer gettin’ so loud sweet cheeks,” he grins into your lips, nipping and pulling away with that cocky chuckle when it makes you whimper.
He’s pretty good at keeping face, pretending like your pussy doesn’t feel that good but he’s never had better. Hasn’t even gotten laid in about a year.
“Keep squeezin’ me like that nd’ I won’t have the strength to pull out,” he groans. His movements become less methodical as his composure slips. His face contorts, brows furrowing and jaw clenching like he’s about to go overboard. “Fuck sweetheart I gotta—“
But he fails to remove himself in time, it was too tight of a squeeze for him to make it out.
His voice sounds a low, almost growl as he empties himself into you. He loses focus for a minute, feeling you pulse and throb around his girth, pulling him back in so greedily. He swears you’re gonna be the one to send him to an early grave.
That is, until the side door of the garage flies open, the man neither of you would have hoped to see, seeing you.
mlist
#resident evil#smut#karl heisenberg x reader#karl heisenberg#re8 heisenberg#lord heisenberg#resident evil village#resident evil 8#resident evil 8 village#karl heisenberg smut#re8 lords#fanfiction#resident evil x reader#resident evil x reader smut#dbf!#dbf! heisenberg
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Eddie Munson x fem metalhead cheerleader
Summary: Based on this - how Eddie met his not so typical cheerleader girlfriend and a little exploration of their relationship.
Content warning: 18+ content minors DNI, smoking, underage drinking, drug use, swearing, flirting, smut.
AN: there is a scene in this based on a ✨️video✨️ i had sent to me by a beautiful anon and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. If you want the link you can find it on my page or message me and I'll try to send it!
📢 TAG LIST IS NOW FULL 📢
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 5
Chapter 4
The following Tuesday, after practice and your homework, you'd driven over to The Hideout to see the famous Corroded Coffin play to their crowd of regular drunks. You parked your car in the lot, getting out and straightening out your cropped Iron Maiden shirt. You'd paired it with some shorts and fishnets, as well as your Docs and your jacket which, courtesy of Eddie, now had a WASP pin resting proudly on the lapel.
You made your way into the, quite honestly, dump of a bar, impressed that you didn't even need a fake ID to get in. You grinned when you saw Corroded Coffin setting up on the small stage and made a beeline for your friends and your....Eddie.
"What's up, rockstars?" You smile, giving Eddie a cheeky pinch to the butt as he was bent over with his back to you sorting out his peddle. He angled his head to look at you, and nearly keeled over at the sight of your outfit. He recovered, standing up to hug you.
"Now this just isn't fair, sweetheart, gonna be playing our set with a fucking boner," he groans into you ear, making you giggle. He subtly kissed your head.
"Holy shit you actually came!" Gareth said, grinning at you from behind his drum kit. "Eddie said you might not make it because of practice."
"Like I'd miss the infamous Corroded Coffin live in concert," you gesture to the homemade banner behind them. "I'm excited!"
"You're probably the only one in the audience who is," Jeff laughs, glancing over the few people who had come to the bar to watch them play.
"Well, just remember who your biggest fan was in the early days, yeah?"
"Of course, sweetheart," Eddie winks at you and you have to wrestle down the urge to kiss him, not knowing how he felt about your...whatever this was between you being made super public yet. You instead settle on shooting him a wink and going to get yourself a drink whilst they finished setting up, patiently waiting for their set to start.
You were surprised when the bartender handed you a beer, apparently Eddie had sorted you with a drink before you'd gotten there, and again that meant nobody was checking your ID. You said nothing, taking your beer and sitting at a table close to the stage where you had a good view and Eddie could definitely see you.
The band start their set and you're completely blown away. Not only are they actually pretty damn good, the way Eddie carries himself on stage is incredible. He's confident, charismatic, nothing new there, but he eludes this sexy rockstar attitude that makes your pussy clench as you watch him. He plays with an energy that should be for 80,000 people not just 0.01% of that.
You watch his skilled fingers running up and down the frets, effortlessly playing chords without even glancing down. And when he sang, god your heart skipped a beat. His voice was the perfect mix of soft melodic singing and raw yells and shouts. They played a mix of covers and their own songs, their musical influences clear in those original pieces. Your favourite so far had been their rendition of Paranoid by Black Sabbath, and a song called Shallow Grave of their own. You had screamed and shouted and applauded, probably too enthusiastically really, but you didn't care. They were good, and Eddie was hot.
As the notes of another original song, Strangers in the Dark, came to an end, Eddie spoke into the microphone.
"We're going to change things up a little bit now folks, with a new cover dedicated to a very special person who happens to be our number one fan. This one's for you, airhead." He shot you a smirk and you grinned back at him, your cheeks flushing. "Sing along if you know it, maybe even dance a little if you're drunk enough."
The opening notes of Edge of Seventeen by Stevie Nicks, but with a Corroded Coffin touch, began to play and your jaw dropped. You fucking loved this song, and your mind and heart race when you remember you had told Eddie that, probably about 3 weeks ago when you'd first started speaking properly, only mentioned it briefly when he'd seen the tape of Bella Donna sticking out of your bag.
He'd...learnt this, for you? Made his band learn this for you without even knowing if you'd ever come to one of his shows?
It's a good thing you were sat down because your knees felt stupidly weak.
"Just like the white wing dove, sings a song sounds like she's singing, ooh, ooh, ooh," Eddie croons; his voice could have brought tears to your eyes. He wasn't playing guitar for this, cupping the mic in his hands in a way that should have been illegal.
You sit in your seat, singing along, watching as a few drunks get up to dance, mostly middle aged women who look as if Stevie Nicks is their lord and saviour.
"Come on honey, your boyfriend is singing this for you! You gotta dance!" One of the Stevie-ites grabs your hand and tries to pull you up to dance.
"Oh, I cant-" you start, feeling a little embarassed. Ridiculous really, seeing as you were in front of two entire high schools nearly every week dancing and cartwheeling and splitting. Why the fuck was dancing in front of Eddie making you shy?!
You catch Eddie's eye as you're dragged onto the small dance area in front of the stage, the woman lets go of your hand to do her own Stevie style twirl, and you laugh, doing the same when she encourages you to do so. You glance up at Eddie and he grins back at you, still singing away as he pulls you up onto the small stage, twirling you around. You stay next to him, wrapped in his arms as the band finishes the song. When the last note plays, Eddie grabs you and you kisses you hard on the lips and you wrap your arms around his neck, the small crowd whooping and cat calling as you break apart, both of you panting and grinning like fools.
"You're amazing," Eddie says breathlessly, looking into your eyes.
"Me?! I'm not the one who just turned Stevie Nicks into a bad ass metal anthem! You gotta record that, you...you're incredible!" You pant, your face starting to hurt with how much you're smiling. You run one finger down his chest whilst looking up at him through your lashes. "How much longer is the set, rock star?"
Eddie swallows hard.
"Uh, th-three songs."
"Perfect, I'll be waiting by your van when you've packed up." You shoot him a sexy smirk, pecking his lips once more and hopping off the stage to watch the rest of the set.
*
True to your words you were waiting, leant up against the side of Eddie's van as he finished loading up his equipment.
"So, I've been thinking, that bed you've got in there?" You gesture to the back of the van. "Super fucking comfortable, perfect for laying down after a successful show, don't you think?"
"While every fibre of my being is going to hate me for saying this, Y/N-"
"Who said anything about sex?" You cut him off and he looks at you, confusion etched on his face. "Just wanna show you how appreciative I am that you learned a song for me, very cute by the way."
"Well, I have been known to be pretty cute," Eddie grins, letting you pull him into the back of the van, kicking the door shut. He grunts, letting out a breathless laugh as you push him onto his back and straddle him, pushing his shirt up his stomach. "Hey, you know you don't have to do anything you don't want to, right?"
"What about if I want to?" You smile, rocking your hips experimentally against him. Eddie groans, fingers biting into your hips. You lean down and kiss him, tongue immediately finding his. Eddie's hands travel from your hips to your ass, squeezing it softly at first, then harder as your kisses grows deeper and more desperate. You pull away from the kiss, sitting back on your heels and your hands hover over his belt buckle. "Can I?"
"Yeah, yes, shit, you can do anything you want to me right now, sweetheart." Eddie groans as you undo his belt, your hand ghosting over the bulge in his jeans. Once his jeans are also undone, he helps you by lifting his hips so you can pull his jeans and boxers down to his mid thigh. You can't help the gasp that leaves your mouth as his cock springs free, slapping his lower stomach.
"Holy...what the fuck, Eddie?!" You laugh, unable to process what you're seeing. He's big. And not just big, but thick too. Uncut, with a delicious thick vein running along the underside of his cock. His balls are - is it weird to say perfect?- big and round and your mouth salivates at the sight. Would you even be able to wrap your hand around him? Swallow him down? Would your cunt stretch enough to accommodate him? Your brain buzzed with arousal.
"Not really something I go around showing off," Eddie chuckles, hissing as you attempt to wrap your hand around him, slowly stroking him. You pull back his foreskin to expose the head of his cock, the same beautiful shade of reddy purple as his lips, and you watch in fascination as a small bead of precum blurts out and over your fingers. "Shit, Y/N, your hand feels so fucking good."
"I haven't even done anything yet," you giggle, moving a tiny bit faster, your other hand gently cupping his balls. You make sure he's looking at you before you let a glob of spit fall from your mouth onto the head of his cock, using it to lube his shaft for your hand to glide easier along it. Eddie fucking whimpers, whimpers, at that, his head dropping back onto the pillow beneath him.
"Fuck, babe, you're fucking...you're a dream."
"A wet one, I hope?"
"You're...everything. God the amount of times I've thought about this, about you...Jesus, how are you fucking real?" Eddie sighs as you work your hand over his cock faster, the mix of your spit and his precum making it easier. "Can I...fuck, can you take your shirt off? And...and put my jacket on?"
He prayed silently that you'd agree, it was all he'd been able to think about for about 3 weeks. You smile, nodding, taking off your shirt. Eddie almost blows his load there and then. Not only were you braless, but you also had your fucking nipples pierced, the two silver bars winking at him in the dim lights streaming in from the car park. You send him a knowing smirk briefly letting go of his cock to grab his previously discarded jacket and slip your arms into it, the leather cool and somewhat a little sticky against your damp skin.
"How do I look?" Your voice is low and sultry, laced with arousal. The throb between your legs is almost unbearable now, and you grind your crotch against his leg for some relief.
"Like every wet dream I've had since I was 13," Eddie groans as you spit on his cock again. "Shit, never thought you'd be so..."
"So what?" You challenge with a smirk, one eyebrow cocked as you continue to jerk him off.
"Jesus, so fucking...filthy." Eddie gasps as you run your other thumb over the slit of his cock, gathering some precum on the digit and sucking it into your mouth. You exaggerate a moan, this was purely for him right now but he did taste really fucking good. "Shit, gonna cum soon, don't stop baby."
"Not going to Eds, want you to make a mess all over me." You push the jacket off of your tits so he can clearly see them. Your free hand pinches one of your nipples, making you moan and grind down onto him again, a whimper leaving your mouth.
"Jesus fuck!" Eddie grunts, his cock twitching in your hand as he cums, streaking your tits, stomach and a little bit of his own jacket with thick white ropes. You stroke him through it, letting go of his thick cock when he starts to hiss in discomfort. "Fuck, princess, easy, easy," he lets a breathless laugh as you scoop up some of his cum off your tits with your finger, popping it into your mouth and sucking it off. "Jesus H Christ."
"I prefer Y/N." You grin, letting out a squeal as Eddie pins you down onto the floor of the van, kissing you hard. His hand wanders to the button of your shorts. "Hey, don't worry about me, handsome. This was all for you."
"You sure? I want to." Eddie's eyes flick to yours and you smile.
"I know, and believe me I really want you to but I have to get home, school night and all that." You sigh and Eddie groans, dropping his head to your shoulder. "My fingers will just have to do tonight."
Eddie groans even louder.
"Shit, Y/N, that isn't fair."
"Relax, Eds, my parents are away this weekend, so I'll have that big, empty house all to myself. You wanna come over and protect poor little old me?" You put on a fake pout. Eddie smirks.
"And by protect you mean-"
"Fuck my brains out until I can't fucking walk and make me scream so loud the neighbours will know your name? Yeah, that's what I meant." You giggle, pecking his lips softly.
"Oh, I'll be there baby, I'll protect you so hard, don't you worry."
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#iswaw#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x reader#eddie smut#eddie munson#eddie munson smut#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson comfort#eddie munson fan fiction#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x female reader#stranger things eddie munson#eddie munson x you#stranger things smut
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ok wait i need to hear more of your thoughts on peeta owning a bakery....
This is one of those rare times where I’m pretty sure this anon isn’t someone I know personally bc I’ve subjected anyone who will listen to my rant about the Peeta Bakery Headcanon. Anyway, you’re gonna regret asking this anon bc there are fucking Layers here.
I know this is probably a controversial take based on the number of fics where I’ve seen it, but I simply do not think that Peeta would open a commercial bakery after Mockingjay!! Like on a metatextual level, I don’t think it really fits with the point of the ending of the series. It actually sort of fascinates me that it’s just such a common headcanon because the ending of Mockingjay is exceedingly vague. I think that vagueness invites us, as readers, to imagine a better world post-revolution. A world where Katniss would feel confident that her children would be safe from injustice, where she’d feel confident that her children would never know want the way she did as a child. A just world. A kinder world. Can a capitalist society ever be just? Is a capitalist society where a disabled teenager has no other means to subsist himself (or feels like there’s no other way he can be a contributing member of his community) really the post-revolution world we dream of? Is that really the best we can imagine?
(This got so insanely long I’m adding a read more lmao)
I get that showing a better world is not always the point of post-mockingjay headcanons/fics. Like there are plenty of really great post-mockingjay fics I’ve seen where, yeah, part of the fic is that society like ISN’T all that different or all that much better. I’ve seen that really well done! Hell, I’ve written them myself! It’s easy to imagine how a lot of aspects of society would not get an overhaul, a lot of the same structural inequalities would continue to exist. One headcanon that really stuck with me (I can’t remember which fic it was from) was that Peeta sells basically mail order baked goods to people on the Capitol, sending them iced cakes and pastries by train, because there are still people who were “fans” of theirs during the Games. And idk this doesn’t actually have much to do with my point lol but I liked it because it’s kind of fucked up and like! Yeah! It makes sense! If he needed money that would be a good way to make it! War often makes people rich, often for horrible reasons, and often it’s people who already have capital in the first place.
Anyway, more about the hypothetical bakery because alright. I bring up the fact that “yeah society not being all that different post-revolution and still being an unjust capitalist hellscape” could be a reason why Peeta re-opens a bakery because that’s actually never the types of fics where I see the bakery headcanon. Fics where Peeta opens a bakery are usually trying to make the exact opposite point. Like. Things are getting better, now he can open a bakery! Look at how much better the world is now, plus he’s got a bakery! Peeta is healing, that’s why he can open a bakery now! And I am so, so sorry to inform everyone who’s never had the grave misfortune of owning a family business, but there is truly nothing further from the truth lmao. Like just putting aside the immense amount of emotional baggage that Peeta has about his family, running a small business is an insane amount of work in any context and being a baker especially is physically grueling and involves early hours (and long hours) that aren’t really the best fit with the multiple ways that Peeta is disabled now. (I could go into this more because I have a lot of thoughts. But I will spare you.). I also think it’s seen throughout the books that Peeta is someone who needs time to pursue creative outlets to process his feelings and someone who values leisure and values quality time with his loved ones. And having grown up in his family’s bakery, I think he’d understand the reality that running a bakery wouldn’t leave much space of those pursuits and wouldn’t leave much space for him to have the things that keep him healthy and stable. I think he’d know that the way he is now— after two Games and the war and unspeakable torture at the hands of a dictator—isn’t compatible with the lifestyle necessary for running a commercial bakery.
And tbh with that in mind, I don’t think he’d push himself to re-open a business (one that would be a constant reminder of his dead family and his complicated relationships with them that got no closure) that would require him to sacrifice his physical and emotional well-being. Like I think he might look into the possibility, I think he might even start trying to open a bakery out of a sense of obligation/duty, maybe harboring some idea that this is who he was supposed to be, who he would've been without the Games, or that it’s this last piece of his family that can live on, or that it’s this last connection to his family so he can’t let it die too. But ultimately, I think any attempt to open a bakery wouldn’t get very far. Maybe he'd start wading into the logistical nightmare that is small business ownership and realize it's not for him (because it's probably also true that as much as him and his brothers were involved in the business, there's almost certainly parts they weren't involved with and didn't see, i.e., filing taxes). Or maybe looking into opening a bakery— how triggering it is, the stress of it— causes a downward spiral. Maybe he hates how much he's worrying everyone by unraveling. Maybe having a breakdown from the stress of just trying to open a bakery makes him realize, yeah, maybe in another life he would have ran his family’s bakery but the way he is now just doesn’t work with running a bakery, not without great sacrifices he's not willing to make. I just can’t see a bakery coming to fruition.
I know a lot of fics include Peeta deciding to reopen a bakery as a big step in his healing or include him rebuilding a bakery as part of his healing process but honestly, I think the opposite would be more true: I think Peeta either trying/failing to open a bakery or ultimately deciding not to open a bakery would be hugely healing for him. I think it would be a huge part of him accepting the way he is now as a person, his new limitations but also his strengths. I think it would be a huge part of him accepting the way his life his now and accepting that he likes his life the way it is, that he’s satisfied with his life without needing to own a bakery. I think it would be an important part of him coming to terms with the loss of his family. I think he knows he can never have things back as they were and I don’t think he would try to recreate them, especially because his family’s legacy isn’t a business. I think he’s emotionally intelligent enough and self reflective enough to realize that what mattered to him about the bakery— taking care of others by feeding them, being integrated into his community and being actively involved in it, brightening people’s days with delightful things whether that’s beautiful cakes or hearty food or delicious treats— and the things he learned from his family through the bakery, are things that he can carry on in other meaningful ways.
(Do you regret sending this ask yet, anon? Because if not, you will soon. I’m not done yet. There’s more.)
I wasn’t really sure where to put this next part in what is rapidly becoming an essay because it sort of combines the points about like “what do we imagine a post-mockingjay society to look like” with the practical difficulties of starting this bakery but here’s another thing: do people really think that the Mellarks owned the land the bakery was on?? Like, sure, the merchants are the petit bourgeois of Twelve but I still don’t imagine they really own anything. In a society where houses are assigned to people upon marriage, where property ownership and capital are so closely interconnected with citizenship (as shown by the Plinths who, by having immense capital, are able to leave their District and become citizens of the Capitol) do people really think the Mellarks would be allowed to own the land their bakery is on?? I always imagined it sort of like a tenant farming situation: the Capitol gives them the raw materials for the bakery and in return the bakery give them some absurdly high portion of their profits, or the Capitol sells them a year’s supply of raw materials at a premium on credit and at the end of the year the Mellarks have to use the money they made with those materials to pay it back, except it’s never enough to turn a profit so they always have to buy next year’s materials on credit and the cycle continues.
We (understandably) get a really skewed view of the merchant class through Katniss’s perspective so I can see why people come to the conclusion that his family owned the property and, as the last surviving member, he would’ve inherited it. I’ve seen the inheritance thing in fics a lot or a hand wavey “well Twelve was decimated to no one owns anything anymore so it can be his” or even like an almost sort of reparations type situation where he’s entitled to the land as a surviving refugee of Twelve. But I don’t know. I guess I don’t think it fits with everything else we know about Panem that the Mellarks would’ve owned that land and I think the question of whether the government would’ve let him take ownership of the land post-revolution brings up a lot of issues about the structure of society post-Mockingjay that I find more interesting to explore in other ways, especially when, from an emotional perspective, 1) I find the idea of Peeta not opening a bakery more compelling and 2) I don’t think it really fits his character arc by the end of Mockingjay to reopen a bakery, as I went on about at length above lol.
On the flip side: literally who cares!! Do whatever you want!! Headcanon whatever you want!! I get why people go for the bakery!! It’s fun, it’s wholesome, it’s a built in bakery AU that isn’t even an AU. It doesn’t matter if it’s practical or realistic!! It doesn’t need to be practical or realistic!! It’s fanfic of a dystopian YA series!! My unfortunate affliction is that I grew up in a family that owned a restaurant and that I have multiple degrees in the social sciences so I can’t see the bakery without being like “What about the overheard? What about the start up costs? Who’s spending long nights balancing the books? Is Peeta covering shifts when an employee calls in sick? Is Peeta the sole person working there until the bakery is open long enough (often a year or more) to start turning a profit? How does that sleep schedule work with his nightmares? How does that work with Katniss’s nightmares? What happens when he has an episode and suddenly needs to take the day off before he has any employees? Does the bakery just remain closed for the day? Can the profit margins withstand regular unexpected closures? Can the supplies withstand regular unexpected closures?” And if the answer is “Elliott none of those things matter he’s not doing the bakery because he needs the money but because he wants to”, then my question is why does he want to? Does he not get the same sort of satisfaction out of feeding his loved ones? Doesn’t Peeta seem like someone who would rather give away baked goods than sell them?? Doesn’t Peeta seem like someone who would prefer to make cakes for people’s special occasions upon and then when they insist on paying him for it, he only lets them “pay for the ingredients” which actually cost significantly more than he says they did??
So yeah my point is that it’s a matter of personal taste! It doesn’t fit the way I see the series but that doesn’t mean it’s like wrong, I’m not an authority on Peeta lmao.
It’s also a matter of personal taste in the sense that I find the themes that most resonate with me at the end of Mockingjay (and the end of Peeta’s arc specifically) more interesting to explore in other ways. Grief, living with loss, relearning yourself, finding hope, figuring out your place in a dramatically different world when you don’t even know who you are anymore, healing, building a new life after such complete and total destruction of your old life— those are all things I find compelling about the end of Mockingjay but for me the bakery isn’t the most compelling way to explore them.
Not to say I find the concept of the bakery totally uninteresting. I have this fic about Johanna that I’ll probably never finish where the point sort of is that, yeah, her life really isn’t all that much better after the war. It’s been years at this point and she’s still miserable and she doesn’t know how to be a person but by the end she’s trying to figure it out. And towards the end, Peeta tells her that he’s spent years sort of passively, half-heartedly trying to figure out how to inherit the land his family’s bakery was on, only to find out it was never theirs in the first place. They’d been renting it the whole time and he’d never even known as a kid. So he sort of passively, half-heartedly went on another wild goose chase to find the owner and now, finally, after years of writing to various government agencies and being sent in circles and things being barely functional, he’s managed to track down the owner. Now it’s owned by the daughter of the man who owned it when he was a kid because the original owner (who was likely up to some sketchy war crime shit) died during the war and she inherited it (the irony…). He got in contact with her and asked how much it would take for her to sell it and she told him she’s not interested in selling but in light of the situation, in light of the fact that he’d have to build a new building in order to operate a bakery, that she’d cut him a deal— she’d only require 50% of the bakery’s profits as rent instead of the 80% his family used to pay. And of course Johanna is outraged, that’s not right, the owner shouldn’t be allowed to do that, they should do something about it, they should fight back. And Peeta is like. Not interested. He was actually sort of relieved that opening wasn’t very feasible. Getting the answer was a lightbulb moment where he saw that over the years of trying to look into this, he’s built a life that he likes— one where he’s stable, where his loved ones are stable, where he’s cared for and can care for others— and he doesn’t really want to change it drastically by opening a bakery anyway. He just needed an answer, one way or another, before he could get some closure and move on. (And the point of the conversation is Johanna is having her own lightbulb moment that it’s okay to move on, it’s okay to change, it’s not a betrayal of the people and things she’s lost but that’s not my point here!!).
But anyway. That’s obviously not about running the bakery— it’s about the choice to not run one.
Anyway!! Anyway… are you satisfied anon? Is this what you wanted?
Lastly, here is my most important qualm with the bakery headcanon: must Peeta be gainfully employed? Is it not enough for him to be Katniss’s boytoy? Can’t he just paint and garden and bake and hang out with his girlfriend all day? Is that really too much to ask?
#peeta mellark#thg#the hunger games#the hunger games meta#anyway wow this got so long and I literally read it through one (1) time so uhhh sorry if this makes no sense!!#as I was doing my one read through and realized that one of my other thoughts on this is that yeah I can much more easily see the#headcanon that peeta like sells baked goods (probably at cost with no profit) out of his kitchen because that’s much more flexible#and I think that would work a lot better with what like I guess I’d call his psychiatric disability post mockingjay#and how he’d certainly want to take care of Katniss too#like that sort of flexibility makes a lot more sense for him and it’s like. if he doesn’t bake for a few days or however long then it’s fin#it’s not a formal brick and mortar business#it’s just something he’s doing because it’s a way to be involved with people and a way to do something he’s passionate about#without there being waste and while covering some of the costs#and he doesn’t have to like keep books or do payroll or any of the things I can’t see him being very passionate about#as far as like bakery management goes Lmao he can just bake!!#but then I started getting into this whole thing about how that quote-unquote ‘running a business’ like that (informally from your house)#is actually a really common practice for people living in poverty so probably something that Katniss and peeta would’ve been familiar wirh#anyway and then this whole rant about how the emphasis on the brick and mortar bakery often goes hand in hand with#this widespread fandom thing of having a fundamental misunderstanding of how rural poverty works and what it looks like#but then I was too deep into it and said you know what? never mind! and deleted it lmao
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joel miller drabble (p2)
The clicker had been two inches from digging into the fucking meat of your shoulder, as Joel so kindly reminds you every few minutes.
The air between the two of you is stale inside your run down apartment, but you can feel Joel’s irritation kick up every so often. The incessant tapping of his boots against the patchy linoleum isn’t as quiet as he thinks it is. Cheeky bastard.
“You know, it really wasn’t that bad-“
“If you finish that sentence, I swear…” he drifts off, leaning over in the kitchen chair and resting his forehead into calloused hands on the matching table. His boot, caked in dried mud and speckled with blood from your undead assailant, taps aimlessly against the floor still.
“I’ll rip your fucking foot off, Miller.” You snap, slamming the cooler closed after you yank free a water soaked bottle of whiskey. An ice run would be necessary tomorrow.
He stops the tapping, thankfully, but levels you with a heated glare.
“You could’ve died tonight,” he growls.
“Could die tomorrow,” you sigh, worrying at your bottom lip while you twist the top off the bottle, “thing is, Joel, I didn’t fucking die.”
Now you’ve done it. He drops his hands from his face with a deep chuckle, sounding damn near sinister. Anybody else would be frightened by the display, but you’re the cat that got the cream, stomach heating up and coiling tight in anticipation.
He rests his hands, big and rough and begging to be on you, on his thighs, “that so?” He asks, it’s a trap, of course. Everything’s a trap between you and Joel Miller. It’s just hard to tell who the victim is sometimes.
You take a deep pull from the whiskey, hissing as it makes its way down your throat. Liquid courage, there’s nothing like it.
You step closer to Joel, watch the amusement spark in eyes before it shifts to a heated want.
“Wanna check, cowboy? See if I’m still breathing? If my heart’s still tickin’?”
Joel’s eyes heat once more, and you can just barely make out the slight twitch in his faded blue jeans. The muscle beyond the fabric is taut, presses so sinfully against the material you’re practically salivating and seeing stars already…
“Give me that,” he orders when you’re close enough, pulling you onto his lap and the whiskey from your hands in one fluid movement.
You settle automatically, relishing in the feel of him against you as you lean your head into the crook of his neck. You drink in the sight of his adam’s apple bobbing along the length of his throat while he works at the bottle, his swallowing loud against the shell of your ear.
“You done bein’ a brat?” He asks, “or is this what we’re doin’ tonight?”
You grin against his throat, run your teeth and tongue against the slight stubble and flush red at the low rumble that sounds in his chest, “m’always a brat, Miller. But if you want me to stop,” you whisper, pressing yourself flush against the aching hardness in his jeans, “by all means, tell me to stop…”
“Gonna send me to an early grave, sweetheart,” he groans, setting the whiskey firmly on the table and hoisting you up into his arms, “let’s go, see if we can’t get your heart tickin’ some more.”
#joel miller#joel tlou#joel miller x reader#joel x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader smut#tlou smut#the last of us drabble#the last of us x reader#the last of us#tlou mini series#tlou drabble#tlou series#tlou x reader#the last of us smut
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do u have any bokuto timeskip headcanons friend? :>
yes! some of the ones i consider to be foundational to my timeskip bokuto lore since im sleepy:
to preface i am a bokuto lesbian moms believer and i think he is really close with them and continues to rely on them for help navigating his life forever. you will have to pry the way they baby him from me in a fight to the death
he and atsumu are like, the word isnt inverses but theres something about them to me that is the same but different idk, anyway i think theyre friendship is super important to both of them, like theres unspoken understanding between the two of them. soulmateism but for teammates turned friends. one of them has a problem or is experiancing overload the other one already knows and is on it kinda thing. is it realistic? no but i dont care. i think tho, from an outsiders perspective theyre just friendly, or just spend a lot of time together because theyre teammates almost the exact same age, but iykyk.
bokuto to me is someone who can be friends with anyone, but not anyone will be friends with him. i think if you can kick it with someone without prejudice you can kick it with him cause he has a very open heart but not everyone can handle its strength. he is however very genuine with his affection so most people at least get along with him over time if not at first
he is considered a bit of a risk when traveling because of his tendency to wander around paying attention to small details instead of important markers and gets lost
i also think bokuto and aran are best friends because bokuto is practical enough to ease aran's anxiety and aran doesn't hold strangeness against you
i think him and ushijima are work nemesis for a period. why? maybe bokuto retains some of his friendly competition for ushijima from high school and it rubs him the wrong way, maybe bokuto misinterperets ushijima's demeanor as dismissive of him in a way people who dont like him are, who knows, all i know is they one day both decide theyre over it and become ride or die acquaintences like they dont hang out but if you give one of them shit the other with triple homo spike pass you to an early grave
i think bokuto, if he gets upset on the court, is probably gonna get upset at himself, or the lights being a little brighter than he anticipated, or he didn't give the pose he wanted when people took pics on the way in or whatever- when his teammates start yelling at the other team/ref or kicking at the net, hes the one to calmly redirect them to focusing on the next play. all of this to say that if you see him pissed.... its a match for the history books.... im talking turkiye v brazil vnl 2023 vibes- fucking crazy
the little acrobatic tricks he does at the beginning of the jackadlers match is part of my personality. you (furudate) can force me to accept he graduated from university, but you (furudate) will never make me believe he didnt at least try to go to clown school.
he is one of those volleyball players that has your regularly scheduled match/ sponsorship/ travel/ occacional fancams posts but also whatever his current interest is is super obvious because his feed will be broken up by a million posts about cacti or a type of australian spider or a deep dive into every type of cloud or the color blue or something
hes the type of player who gets interviewed midmatch and after throroughly complimenting everyone on court he recounts every point like it has been the highlight of his life- the interviewer is always extremly confused and unsure of how to cut him off
hes also one of the life of the party players- gets a service ace and does a lil victory lap or does tiktok dances from the bench when the camera is on him
also this is slightly less related but bokuto's moms have taken akaashi as one of their own and bokuto gets really upset if they all hangout without him and dont send a selfie of their time together.
i think at somepoint aran explains to him kita's definition of confidence and after that he is better at not shutting down midmatch- he tries to anticipate things he cant anticipate and focus on the parts of the game that remain conistant- but it continues to be hard for him in day to day life- in fact id say that the older he gets the harder time he has
he and kuroo text everday- about everything and nothing- but they continue to be besties
i mean this seriously i think he can dabble in drag as a treat
i think he has to balance being himself and being loved for it and being aware of the ways people negatively perceive him...
everyone assumes he is a pr teams worst nightmare but actually that honor goes to sakusa, but bokuto will help him with it
im too sleepy now but thank you for asking!!
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Name of the Game
Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader
Summary: When work separates you and Joel to opposite coasts, it's nice to know that things haven't changed [1.2k]
Author's note: IT'S HAPPENING PEOPLE
Warnings: famous Joel au, no outbreak :D, baseball talk, Joel being a shithead, yearning, the lightest touch of sexting
"I hate this, by the way." You say the second the ringing on the other line stops. Joel laughs, and his studio chair squeaks. You keep telling him he needs to replace it, but he's obviously not listening.
"Hello to you, too." He says. You swear you can hear the smirk in his voice. It's been three weeks since you last saw him and the girls. He started recording a new album in Los Angeles, and you got sent off to New York City to shoot for your latest movie. You really didn't think being on opposite sides of the country would affect you two that much, but with the time change, busy schedules, and general exhaustion, you barely have time to talk. Plus, the girls are finishing up this school year, which is always a crazy time for him. You think it would be even if he weren't famous.
"Hi. I miss you." You say as you rummage through your bag for your water bottle.
"This is just temporary. I promise," he says, and you sigh. It's temporary until the next project or album or tour, you think. Your and Joel's work ethic is very similar, and it would be admirable if you didn't both pile so much onto your plate. "I miss you, too."
"How are the girls?"
"They're good. Sarah is stressed with finals and barely comin' out of her room, and Ellie sent me on a wild goose chase last night cause she needed a poster board for a project she's known about for a month. I swear, these girls are gonna put me in an early grave."
"You love them."
"I'd love 'em a lot more if they let me sleep."
"Mhm," you hum as you move to another bag, still looking for your stupid fucking water bottle. At this point, you're ninety percent sure you left it in the makeup trailer. Joel likes to joke that you can't go anywhere without that huge pink monstrosity of a water bottle, but you might be proving him right by frantically looking for it. Joel chuckles at your half-hearted response.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Am I boring you?" He asks, and you smile. You give up on finding it and flop onto your hotel bed as if it were your own.
"Not more than usual."
"Very funny," he says. "How's New York?"
"It's good. I think we've got another week or two of filming. Everybody's doing great work, and the directors are fantastic, but I'm ready to come home."
"It'll go quick. Besides, you're not missin' much here."
"I beg to differ. It sounds like I missed world-famous rockstar Joel Miller battling it out with a fourteen-year-old in a Hobby Lobby at 9pm."
"It was actually a Michaels," he corrects. You can imagine him standing there with his hands on his hips as Ellie scans the different poster board types and asks his opinion. "The girls and I will still be here by the time you get back. They want us all to go out to dinner the second you get home."
"That sounds nice," you say. "Much nicer than long-distance phone calls at one in the morning."
"Yeah, why are you callin' so late? Not that I'm complaining." He asks, even though he's only three hours behind you. You yawn and stretch out on the bed.
"Shooting went late today, and I didn't want to go to bed without talking to you."
"You're getting ready for bed?" He asks, and you hum. His chair squeaks again, and he gets quiet. "What are you wearing?" You laugh at the question and look down at your ensemble.
"Oh, something super sexy."
"Like?"
"A ratty old Cubs jersey and a pair of sweatpants."
"A Cubs jersey?! You're breakin' my heart, baby," he says. "Send me the hotel's address so I can send you an Astros jersey to wear instead."
"I'll wear an Astros jersey when they can win a World Series without cheating."
"At least the Astros can win a World Series. What was the Cubs drought? A hundred and ten years or somethin'?"
"A hundred and eight, thank you very much."
"What if I got it signed by the whole team? Would you wear an Astros jersey, then?"
"No, but I'd give it to your daughters and take the credit for it."
"Now, that," he says. "Is evil."
"One day, I'll take you to Wrigley Field, and you can watch some real baseball. "
"Be careful. I'll take you up on that offer."
"I'm counting on it, cowboy." The line grows quiet on both sides, and you know this is the closest you'll get to him for the next few weeks. You listen to his breathing and imagine his elbows on the desk in front of him, lyric pages scattered around him, and his guitar within reach. You wish you were there so he could pick your brain about a melody or even just walk by and kiss his head when he's deep in thought. In the same way, you wish he was here so he could read scenes with you and bring your favorites in from catering.
"I can't wait for you to come home." He says so softly you almost miss it. You let your eyes close and take a deep breath.
"Me neither."
"It's late. You should probably sleep."
"Yeah," you yawn. "Tell the girls I say hi."
"I will. I love you."
"Love you." You say and hang up. You put your phone on the charger and try to fall asleep, but your brain is overrun with thoughts of what you need to do the next day on set, things to ask the intimacy coordinator for, and new ideas for scenes. Your phone buzzes next to you an hour later with a text from Joel— a video of him strumming a tune you haven't heard before. He hums lowly as he plays, and the gentle unfinished song continues in your dreams.
The next day is full of shoots, reshoots, touch-ups, and one exhausting scene of running through the streets of Manhattan that the director wanted to shoot at least seven different times. By the time you get to go home, you're sweaty, tired, and have at least thirty unread text messages from Ellie, almost all of them TikTok's that "Oh my god, you have to watch."
When you get to your hotel room, you go to throw your bag on the bed but stop when you see a big box wrapped with a red bow on it. You furrow your brows as you pick up the note attached and read it. For Wrigley Field - JM, it reads. You open the box, and a beautiful new Cubs jersey sits at the bottom with a signed baseball next to it. When you pick it up to look at it closer, it has your last name on the back, and you find an Astros hat at the very bottom of the box. For the World Series, the note reads. You laugh out loud and clutch the royal blue cloth to your chest.
You respond to any and all unread texts, emails, and notifications. After a shower, you slowly start to feel human again. Human enough to shoot a text to Joel.
Ask me what I'm wearing
Uh oh, he responds.
C'mon, you know you want to
What are you wearing?
You smirk at your phone as you shoot him a photo of you wearing the Cubs jersey, the fabric riding up your thighs just enough to show that you're only wearing a pair of lacy black panties underneath. Your phone lights up with his contact photo almost immediately, and you laugh as you answer his call.
"Goddamn," his voice is deep and gravely as he groans. "After that, I think I just might be the world's biggest Cubs fan."
#rockstar!joel miller#the last of us#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller fic#joel tlou#the last of us x reader#joel miller the last of us#joel the last of us#joel miller drabble#joel miller fluff#joel miller x female reader#joel miller au#the last of us au#the last of us fluff#the last of us hbo#bitch this was so fun to write
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FATGUM head cannons
an? i wrote this so long ago i just wanna clear my drafts out😭😭 soo sorry if its bad but you could always send me a request 💜.
- because hes my fav and i love him so much i just wanna tackle his 7 foot ass and love him for the rest of his life... ANYWAYSSSSS
- this man is known by name (and sometimes order) by every restuarnt in a 10 mile radius of his agency. and i knwo your probably like “he a pro hero ofc they know his name” no. his given name and the first time it happen he was shocked
- sings in the shower, off key, loud and proud, just straight butchering all and every song in his playlist.
- his home is custom bulit to him. everything is like 2 feet taller than it would be for somebosy in averge height. somebody (me) said it reminds them of jack and the bean stalk and he doubled over laughing
- kiri and tamaki come over to watch cooking show because one he wouldnt be able to fit as comfortably at their dorms, and two because he got a big ass tv and watching on his tv is so much better, and he got snacks out the ass. im talking pantry overflowing, with everything. tama used to the system but kiri swears he could get lost in it
- im sorry but, he can only cook stroke inducing food. which makes sense for quirk and what not but dont eat it unless you trying to put yourself in an early in a early grave. smothered everything, if its baked, best believe it was fired first. cheesy everythinggggg like omg, i still love him tho
- his favorite food shows be the baking shows, especially Cupcake Wars. he gets up-fucking-set if his favortite contestant loses or gets kicked off before the finalem hes gonna be talking about it for the rest of the week about how unfair it was and the judges didnt know what they were talking about because how could they not win.
- relationships hcs or what not
- ahhhhhhh love language is most definitely acts of service and quality time. he livesss for when he got a second to just hold you, or be in your presence. it just so calming to him, the acts of service parts is bringing you food to try. ooo when he went on a mission outside of Esuha City he sends you a selfie with e v e r y new food/ drink he tries on his mission. so expect a lot of of pictures and sometimes videos from him
- top tier cuddles in that giantic ass bed. and he has a weighted blanket with a big ass fan AND black out curtains ????? need i say more
- drags you down into his baking show addiction, but yall always tend to go for the rivals. so yall make bets on who’s gonna last longer. right now you’re winning 7 - 6
- but you watch Extreme Cake Makers and write down recpies you wanna try and little things the contestant did so you could test it out. so you have notes deicted to ths and you sometimes go back and rewatch episodes to catch small stuff that you missed. he lovess when you get like this all nerdy and focused, it soo cute ugh.
- likes to take you through the city at night because its look pretty at night when its lit up. you take a lot of pictures of bridges and in front of different signs and stuff
- omg, if you just so happen to walk past the shower whiles he in there singing his heart out, he’s gonna stop singing and say “take it away babe”.
- a sucker for your southern nicknames. all the sugar, sweetness, bubs/bubba, honey. say anyyy of these and this man is at your feetready to do anything and everything just to hear you call him that again
- baby be feening for thanksgiving and christmas to come around. first time he was on a long mission, was gone for a week and came back on thanksgiving eve to see that you were cooking up a feast, he was so happy he cried.
ik the ending seems kind meh .. but then again this been sitting in my drafts
#fatgum x black reader#fatgum#mha fatgum#bnha fatgum#headcanon#aka the loml#fatgum fluff#.mha sleep talks 💤
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can you please do a Lloyd X zielo daughter reader basically the reader is the daughter of zielo and in this zielo is a good guy also zielo is the god of everything Lloyd and the other ninjas don't know because the reader is always in human form and when do they find out simple one day the reader and the other got attached and zielo happened to be walking by and when he see his daughter in danger he immediately saved everyone and of course everyone is shocked including Lloyd that not only is the reader not fully human but is also a demigod (zielo is from the murder of me both the reader and Lloyd are immortal the reader is always in human form because she is nervous of telling the others and this is just pure fluff I hope that this isn't to much)
ooooo, this sounds like a goodie! I do have to do some research but don’t ya worry, I will gladly write this. Thank you lovely person 🫶 ps I also went full out on the fluff near the end and added a bit of angst 💛. Hope you and everyone like it
Btw, most if not all of my oneshots/headcanons are gonna be in 3rd person because I find it easiest to write in.
Also, I have a mini game for you while writing a certain section of this I was listening to ‘The night we met’ by Lord Huron have a guess where the lyrics ‘and your eyes were filled with tears, when you had not touched me yet’ inspired a section in the oneshot 💛
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Lloyd Garmadon x Zielo daughter reader
Y/n= your name
f/c= favourite colour
h/c= hair colour
e/c= eye colour
For this reader uses she/her pronouns however you can replace them with whatever pronouns you feel comfortable with. Warning- cursing 💛
btw- this is Zielo (creepyyy fan art.)
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How do you tell someone you’re immortal?, that you’re not a human? That you’re the daughter of a god, of the Zielo making you a demigod. These questions haunted Y/n’s mind daily always having a mental debate with herself about how she should tell her friends, her newfound family, her partner about her heritage. Should she tell them about her heritage? She knew she had to eventually otherwise the dreaded conversation of when can I meet your parents will occur from none other than Lloyd, she had pictured it so many times in her mind that the entire scenario has been imprinted inside of her ranging from awkward side of her having to tell the blonde that she is infact the daughter of a god, to Lloyd being confused and rambling about the situation and then the worst part of it all the judging eyes. The judging eyes of Lloyd staring at her in disappointment about her heritage, I mean her father is a good person he ain’t evil but the bright emerald green eyes judging her every word haunts her in her mind. She felt a pinch being pressed onto her right shoulder causing her to turn her head to look at the culprit and there were the emerald eyes looking right at her.
“hello~” Lloyd sing song out his attempt at bringing Y/n’s attention onto himself.
“Lloyd? Why on earth did you pinch me.” Y/n asked her eyelids blinking slowly at the confused expression beginning to form on her face.
“Are you okay?” The blonde questioned his hand slowly moved onto the table and near to Y/n hand “you looked like you were in another realm or something.”
Y/n hummed in response trying to plan out her response in her head she could say ‘oh you know thinking about my dad being a god and that I’m practically a demigod and did I mention to say immortal’ and then Lloyd would say ‘wait what’. But after repeating it in her head a few times she decided she didn’t want to send her beloved blonde boyfriend to an early grave.
“y/n?” Lloyds voice spoke again, a concerned look now appeared on his face.
“sorry, lot on my mind.” Y/n gently smiled, she wasn’t lying when she said there was a lot on her mind she just didn’t specify what exactly.
Lloyd moved his hand to be directly on top of Y/n’s “do you want to say what’s on your mind?”
I’m a fucking demigod, the daughter of Zeilo, immortal and I’m not even fully human she desperately wanted to yell, today had been the hardest in a long while for y/n to keep her heritage under-wraps she wanted so badly to tell someone about herself, about her struggles of fitting in, about everything. But now wasn’t the time.
“I’ll be fine, it’s nothing that I can’t handle.” Y/n declined shaking her head
“you sure?” Lloyd questioned, his grip on y/n’s hand tightened slightly.
“Yes Lloyd, I’m sure.” Y/n grinned showing Lloyd that she was fine (well physically, mentally ummmmm). In an instant her eyes narrowed playfully at Lloyd “you still didn’t tell me why you pinched me.”
“Oh well, um I heard that pinching helps get people out of a daydream.” Lloyd sheepishly answered now regretting his decision to pinch her.
“it hurt.” Y/n complained, she removed her hand from Lloyds grasp.
“Sorry.” Lloyd mumbled, lowering his head slightly in guilt.
“Probably gonna have a bruise there.” She smirked, y/n turned her head away from Lloyd.
“Wait what-“ Lloyd eyes widened in shock, he didn’t pinch her that hard? Did he?
“Yeah, gonna have to say that I got the bruise from the terrifying blonde ninja.” The smirk on Y/n’s face grew as a horrified look grew on Lloyds face.
“Terrifying??” Lloyd questioned
“Yup, and the terrifying blonde ninja is also incredibly gullible.” Y/n sneaked a look at Lloyd from the corner of her eye, he looked like he had seen a ghost.
“I am so sor-” Lloyd sympathetically said, he was about to apologise until he repeated the sentence Y/n had said in his head “wait gullible.”
Y/n couldn’t hold it in anymore and laughed to her heart content, Lloyd held an annoyed expression on his face.
“not funny.” Lloyd deadpanned.
“it was very funny.” Y/n chuckled slowly coming out of her laughing fit, her cheeks burnt bright red from laughing.
“I thought I hurt you.” He sulked as colour finally returned back to his face.
“From a pinch?” Y/n questioned
“yes!” Lloyd exclaimed his arms raised to show his point.
“Sorry, sorry. Couldn’t help it.” She giggled placing an apologetic hand onto Lloyds shoulder
Before Lloyd could think of a snappy come back to say and to get revenge on his h/c girlfriend for making him think he had hurt her, however Jay ran into the room in a panic.
“Ultraviolet escaped she’s been spotted near Borg tour!” Jay yelled, entering the room he stopped himself midway into the room and took a slow look between Lloyd and Y/n “have I interrupted something?”
Lloyd replied with a “yes” while Y/n said “no” both looking at each-other in confusion, until they recalled what Jay had screamed.
“Ultraviolet escaped!” Lloyd exclaimed, he rose up from his seat in a shock already pulling his green GI mask over his head.
“everyone’s wanting on the bounty, Pixel will fill us in on the way there.” Jay explained rushing out of the room and towards the bounty parked outside the monastery.
“guess our little ‘debate’ will have to wait.” Y/n smirked grabbing her f/c GI mask from the table and standing up from the chair.
“oh believe me, I’ll think of something on the fly.” Lloyd replied his voice slightly mumbled from the mask, he grabbed y/n’s hand and rushed with her behind him to the bounty both mentally preparing to fight ultraviolet once again.
Yet, in the back of y/n’s mind she had the sudden sense that something was going to go terribly awry.
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Y/n was right, and she wished she wasn’t. When her and the ninja team arrived it appeared that ultraviolet was expecting them and ambushed them, it was no wonder why people called her crazy. She was crazy enough to go against eight ninjas and so far ultraviolet was winning. Everyone was getting tired, bruised and beat by some miracle ultraviolet had gotten stronger, faster and crazier. Y/n was on the ground her lungs breathing heavily attempting to regain her breathe, her nose was bleeding and she was barely able to remain conscious. This was certainly the opposite of winning. Looking around at each of the ninjas all of them desperately trying to remain focused on the fight at hand and not to fall on the ground out of exhaustion and pain, the fight was far from over that’s what Y/n was thinking and was about to stand up once more regaining her composure to enter the fight once more when a flash of light appeared infront of everyone.
A figure stood in the place of where the flash of light had landed, the figure didn’t look human they had skin as pale as snow, long and sharp fangs were seeping from their mouth and their almost black eyes were staring daggers their eyes going from ultraviolet to the ninjas and finally to y/n. Her eyes widened at the realistic of who this figure was, it was Zielo, it was a god, it was her father. Once Zielo eyes reached his daughters they immediately went darker.
“which one of you hurt my daughter.” Zielo threatened his eyes scanning the room at everyone nearby.
Y/n quietly moved her eyes from the ninjas and to ultraviolet hoping her father noticed her gaze and would send all of his fury to ultraviolet and not to her friends. Luckily he did, his head quickly turned towards Ultraviolet her eyes dilating realising the sudden danger she was now in.
“I-I- should g-g-go!” Ultraviolet stammered out, her gaze fixing to the opposite side of the street “I-I-I- h-have to uh feed my spider, yes! S-s-spider.”
Ultraviolet turned around and began legging it out of the street, the moment she had disappeared Zielo lifted his hand up and snapped his fingers. The sound of ultraviolet confused and scared screams was heard in the distance. Silence filled the room once the scream had fully disappeared.
“is she?” Jay stuttered he subconsciously took a step away from the terrifying being standing in-front of them.
“course not, just sent her back to where she came from.” Zielo replied, his dark eyes surveyed the room until landing on the nervous face of his daughter one last time. Internally Y/n was hoping her dad wouldn’t utter a word and would simply vanish after he saved both her and her friends, a smile erupted onto Zielo’s face when he saw Y/n “Y/n! Are you okay, who am I kidding your whole face is bleeding. What do you need? A tissue, some food, a hug~”
Y/n blinked slowly at her father, he had called her out. Her own father had called her out. She could just ignore his statement and act confused as to how this very strange man had known her name, yet she didn’t. Not really.
“yes I am fine, uh random god who is definitely not my dad.” Y/n mentally face palmed, she had done the exact opposite of what she was supposed to say.
“Wait dad!” Kai exclaimed looking at Y/n and Zielo trying to find some similarities between them, now he could see it. He could see the resemblance.
“no- yes.” Y/n lowered her head in shame her eyes lingered at the ninjas and their shocked faces before sighing “everyone met my dad Zielo, the god of everything.” Her voice lowered near the end of her sentence hoping her friends wouldn’t hear her. They did, Y/n secret was finally out.
“Did I hear you correctly? The god Zielo is your father meaning you’d be a demigod?” Zane inquired his head titled in question wanting to understand more about the situation.
Before Y/n could reply Cole intervened “but why doesn’t y/n look like him, you know with the teeth and the um other things.”
“good question.” Nya whispered leaning into Cole
Y/n inhaled deeply mentally trying to figure out her wording on what she’s about to say, it wasn’t the exact words she was hoping for. It was the exact opposite, it was similar to the words she had in her head from nearly an hour ago.
“you know my dad the god of everything as you now know and I’m practically a demigod oh and did I mention to say immortal” Y/n rambled, her arms went into every which way exaggerating her point.
Zielo faced his daughter with a confused look on his inhuman face.
“didn’t you tell them?” He questioned causing Y/n to rapidly turn her head towards him.
“not really a conversation I wanted to use as an introduction to my friends and boyfriend!” Y/n snapped “yEaH iM tHe DaUgHtEr Of ZiElO lOvElY tO mEeT yOu.”
“Being on earth has made you so much more sassier than before.” Zielo mumbled incoherently.
“You aren’t human.” Lloyd finally spoke, he had kept quiet during the whole interaction and now he wanted clarification on what Y/n is supposedly saying. Y/n grimaced slight as she was reminded that Lloyd had found out then and there that she wasn’t like the rest of them.
Y/n nods her head “surprise.” She tried to smile to try and distinguish the situation her dad had gotten her into (even though she was grateful he had saved both herself and her friends). Instead of the judging eyes y/n had feared to be on Lloyds face when he would eventually found out the truth a warm and loving smile began to grow on his face.
“oh my masters that why you were distracted you were thinking about this.” Lloyd said in a relieved tone his head moved to look up, the smile still remained on his face.
“Wait what” Y/n raised an eyebrow at her blonde boyfriend internally questioning why he was happy about her heritage, she thought Lloyd would’ve been the one to say wait what.
“Do you two need a moment?” Kai questioned his eye scanning the room.
Before Lloyd or Y/n could reply, Pixel did “I think we should.”
“right, come on scary powerful god of everything let’s show you round the greatest flying ship of all time.” Jay announced, he was about to grab onto Zielo’s arm and drag him away but he thought better of it. He didn’t want to upset the being that could destroy him in an instant.
“yup! Let’s go!” The ninjas apart from Y/n and Lloyd all awkwardly side stepped out of the street with Zielo shuffling behind them glancing at the weird antics of the supposed mature and respectful ninja.
Y/n blinked slowly when the ninjas left he eyes were no longer on Lloyd.
“look Lloyd, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner about my heritage I thought you’d be disappointed that I’m not you know entirely human and that I’m a Demi god. Which isn’t a bad thing cause you know I’m immortal I’ll practically never die, and since you’re a Oni AND a dragon then you probably cannot die either so basically this is like a win, win situation.” Y/n explained her eyes never once landing on Lloyd, however his eyes were on her. Y/n’s eyes finally landed on Lloyd “why are you looking at me like that, I know it’s difficult for you to process this. It’s difficult for me to process that now you know something I should have told you a long while ago. Lloyd, stop staring at me and talk.”
Lloyd slowly stepped forward, the smile present on his face yet more loving as if he had fallen in-love with y/n all over again and in some way he had. He fell in-love with a side of her he had never seen before. Still Lloyd didn’t speak, he didn’t utter a word to Y/n.
“Why aren’t you saying anything, you should be upset at me, angry, disappointed, possibly disgusted. Why aren’t you doing-“ Y/n was cut off by a pair of arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her into their embrace. Lloyd was hugging her.
Silence surrounded them, not one of them muttered a single sound as they both enjoyed being in each others comforting embrace.
“I’m not alone.” Lloyds voice mumbled into Y/n’s h/c hair.
“what?” She whispered wanting to hear what he had said.
Lloyd chuckled under his breathe it was then Y/n realised he was crying. She lifted her head up to look at him, tears ran down his face.
“I’m not alone.” Lloyd whispered repeating what he had said a bright tearful grin on his face.
“You’ve never been alone.” Y/n reassured, uncertain why Lloyd was getting emotional. Was it because he was so upset about her heritage.
Lloyd shakes his head the tears continued to flow “I get to spend every day of my life with you. I don’t have to worry about you dying of old age or leaving me, you’ll always be by my side.”
Tears slowly made their way to Y/n’s e/c eyes as she realised what Lloyd had known.
They weren’t going to leave. They weren’t going to die.
They were going to live out the rest of their immortal lives together
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It’s the fact that Bucks biggest thing is everyone leaves him. No one ever chooses him. No one chases after him. But like. Here ya go Buck. Even in Death we see Eddie immediately trying to get back to him. We see Eddie chose to make him live by doing whatever he can any way he can. And as for chasing after him? We get to quite literally watch as Eddie tries to chase after him through the doors.
Are you trying to send me to an early grave???? Not only all of what you said but none of his chosen family members are gonna leave his side. Remember how he was so fucking worried in like 6.05 when Hen was gonna leave for medical school, how they’d never be together again???? WELL BUCK LOOK AT THEM NOW! They won’t leave your side. They have your back. Eddie has your back and he’s not going anywhere buddy. He chooses you. He chooses to stay and he even would’ve crossed the threshold and went in with the doctors if he could. 😭😭😭😭
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Twisted Love 6
Pairing: Clint Barton x Castle!Reader
Warnings: Death. Tragedy. Loss. Cheating. Spicy, let’s just say that. It’s gonna be spicy.
Oh yeah there’s Smut, like early on. I’m not even sorry.
In a dark world, the one thing you don’t want is to find out the one you trust, who you’d give your life up for, isn’t as faithful as you thought.
When tragedy pulls my marriage apart, at the seams. Everything seems to just get worse from there. Only my husband isn’t going to let things go that easy, I find that out when he drags me back home.
The only D we agree to, was till Death and that just might be the only thing left. But for who?
“Who is Sophia?” Frank glares at him.
He storms after his wife.
“I have some things to do today tell T to get ready.” She casually calls back at him.
“Who is Brock?” Frank snarls after them.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Clint demands.
“Don’t worry Shug, I’m stocked up on plan B, Brock wasn’t much for suiting up either.” She laughs lightly, a smug dangerous grin on her lips.
“Excuse me?!” Her father blanches.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Sweets.” He warns her through his teeth.
“Why?” Her head tips, the ruined messy bun completely gone, long strands falling over her shoulder. She slips a step closer to him. “Should I ask who you’ve been coming in while I’ve been away?” Her brown jerks up.
“You don’t get to disrespect me while I’m still leaking down your thighs.” He bares his teeth.
“Oh I walked into the wrong part of that conversation.” Barney groans joining them.
“Someone better start answering my questions!” Her father barks loudly. “Who is Brock?”
“Your daughters boyfriend.”
She shrugs.
“Well actually,” Barney chuckles, she turns to glare at her brother in law. “he was my breakfast date.” He grins with pride.
Y/N shakes her head not bothering to remark on that.
“Meaning what?” Frank wonders.
“Clint killed him. Barney disposed of him.” She rolls her eyes.
“You knew he was a dead man the second he opened his mouth in that club.” Barney shrugs.
“Club?” Franks blinks at them.
“I was working in a club, in lingerie for dollars, daddy.” She beams at her father, proudly.
“This is how we die.” Barney swallows.
“Fuck.” Clint drags his hand over his face.
“If I’m being honest it was a sex club for dollars.” She corrects herself.
“Well it wasn’t for dollars kitten, smallest bill you had was a twenty.” Barney chuckles under his breathe.
Clint glares at his brother.
Frank pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Your mother is rolling in her grave.” Frank grumbles.
“Tell me it’s a lie, Y/N.” Clint sighs heavily, his chest tightening.
“What would be a lie?” She bats her eyes at him.
His jaw clenches, glaring at her. “Don’t play dumb.” He warns.
“Guess I’m just dumb.” She sasses back.
“Tell me it’s a lie anyone else, another man is coming in you!” He yells suddenly.
“Oh fuck.” T appears next to Frank. Who looks to be praying to the ceiling.
She licks her lips, staring back at him. Something dark flashes in her eyes.
“I’m not the only one you’re coming in.” Her voice light like a whisper but packed with a right hook blow.
Frank turns to glare at him.
Barney swallows hard.
“Don’t worry, Clint.” She pats his cheek light with a smug grin. “Plan B doesn’t expire, you can keep pretending you love me, and you won’t have to worry about any repercussions of it.” She steps back, looking to T.
“Be a dear and send like a hundred boxes to Sophia, that should keep her stocked for like two – three months, you know how Clint gets some weeks.” She waves her hand dismissively.
“That’s enough Y/N.” He growls at her.
“We could get divorced.” She throws out, smirking at him. Leaving the four of them shocked and silent.
“Y/N.” Franks warns.
“Easy Kitten.” Barney blinks wildly.
“We said till Death. The only D that will ever end this marriage.” He reminds her.
She shrugs. “You or me, Darlin?”
The seriousness in her voice, the ice cold in her eyes. This wasn’t a ploy to rile him up, to pick a fight. She meant this.
“T get ready, I have something’s to do today.” She smirks at him.
“It’s never a good feeling when you grin like that.” T sighs.
“Just evening the playing field.” She smirks.
With that she turns leaving them. The door of the room she’s staying in closed a moment later.
“Who is Sophia?” Frank snarls at him.
“You are not my issue right now Frank. I have to deal with your unstable, crazy ass daughter!” He heads for his bedroom. “And don’t you think about doing anything she told you too T!” He demands before opening his bedroom door.
“He does realize she will kill me first?” T asks quietly.
“I’ll do it!” Barney volunteers.
“Charles!” Clint calls after his brother.
“He’s long gone.” T calls back.
“What the Fuck is happening in this fucking house!?” Frank demands.
It’s quiet for a moment.
“I fucked up with your daughter and I’m about to repent for my sins… in the worst of ways.” He relies closing the door to his room.
----------
Lights change slowly. Pretty woman, wander around. The music in time with the lights.
Deep black hair, meets the small of her back. Emerald green eyes. Full lips and a pretty face, and body most men would pay to lick.
“Are you a vouyer or just bashful?” She flashes a dazzling and alluring smile.
“Maybe both?” Smiling at her from my seat in the wide leather chair.
“Most vouyers aren’t woman in my experience.” She tucks a strand of hair back.
“Why do men get to have all the fun?” Sipping from my glass.
“Looking to have some fun today?” She offers.
“I was actually hoping you could tell me if you were hiring?” Tipping my head.
“At the club? Yeah, we are. I can grab a manager for you.” She offers with a wave of her hand behind her.
“Please?” I grin at her.
She nods leaving quickly.
“That is not the way I thought that was going to go.” T leans over speaking close to my ear.
“Who said I’m done?” I grin at him.
He shakes his head for a moment. “You planning to fuck your husbands mistress too?” He lifts a brow at me.
A grin on my lips, dragging my bottom lips, shrugging a shoulder.
“I have to know how she’s better than me to steal my husband.” I smirk at him.
“Listen to me.” He snaps his fingers in front of my face. “Do not, you hear me, do not kill this woman in public.” He stares back at me.
“I’m not.” I laugh.
“Yeah lookin like Harley Quinn over there. Like you aren’t ready to snap her neck and parade her body around like Shamo at Sea World.” He rolls his eyes.
“Shamo did it right, he bite off the parts. I could always gift my husband with hers.” I point out to him. He sighs, glaring at me.
“That’s not what you were supposed to take from that.”
“I know” I grin as Sophia and what I can only assume is the manager come towards us.
“Clint going to kill us.” T sighs.
“Fair is only fair.” I laugh.
------------------------------
Everything Peaches 12/8/22
@mo320
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Clint ‘Destory Me, I’ll Thank You’ Barton:
@nickyl316h
#Marvel#Mafia!Clint Barton x Castle!Reader#Avengers#Clint x Reader#Twisted Love#Marvel Fanfiction#Clint Barton AU Series#Avengers Fanfiction#Clint AU Series
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young royals s3e6 episode reaction (the last one 😭)
I'm gonna miss this I'm so emo
ok let's go
simon's shaky eyelid I'm gonna rip my foot off
"it feels like you two are never truly over" SPEAK ON IT FELICE
wille's voice breaking I'm gonna start fucking sobbing
"I have to take responsibility for my own problems, I can't drag him down with me" bro I'm gonna kill myself
fuck I can't believe that's the last title
I'm gonna start sobbing ohohoho
he's gonna skip??? when has simon ever skipped in the whole series?
oh sara baby no
MICKE????? YOU RAT
oh, just the car
sure give them the car. that makes up for all the years of abuse. totally.
this conversation is so important help me
"see? she'll be fine" god I hope she will be fine
oh my they look all so nice in the sunlight. wille w the sunglasses. love the look
OH HE'S ASKING ABOUT SIMON STOP IT
haha yea called it
but why tell them like that? like why not call for a full student meeting and tell everyone? so unprofessional
if vincent doesn't Shut the FUCK Up oh my god
if he talked to me like that I'd be throwing fists on fucking god
also stella and fredrika need to calm the fuck down. go to new york then assholes
AUGUST?????
this man cannot be serious. sobbing like that over a school. be so for real. go hate crime someone if you're so upset. fuck
NILS VINCENT AND AUGUST HUGGING WTF
god that's so heartbreaking
fuck them rich kids but that's so heartbreaking
that's so weird. thinking abt simon moving away. it doesn't feel nice.
also rosh and ayub in full panic mode @ simon moving away... not great
NORWAY????
kristina's gonna croak isn't she
NOT THE BOOK OH MY GODJJGLDJFLDKG
chorrito pa las animas aaayyyyyyyyy
NOT NILS AND VINCENT GIVING AUGUST THEIR CONDOLENCES ABT HIM BEING THE SPARE LMFAOOOOOOOOOOO
oh my god that's goddamn hilarious
"you wanna be close to the royals, you don't wanna be one" "which is great for us actually" I can't stop fucking laughing jflsfjlsjflskf
SCREAMS OH GOD
oh god
"I feel empty. and scared" wonderful I love this honesty let's keep it going
oh tgjslfkslf HENRY IM GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU
sure, talk abt the booze and the drugs, that sure will make simon want to come to the party
NOT DOING SHOTS WITH THE HOUSEMASTER I'M GODKGKDLGJDLSKSFKDLFJ
THATS SO FUCKING FUNNYKGKGKFLGKDLGK
baby worm wille is my fav wille
I'VE LOST THE LOVE OF MY LIFE /WHAT/
/WHAT DO YOU MEAN WITH THAT WILHELM/
WHAT THE FUCKFJGKFKFLFKFLFKFLFK
OHMTOG
oh also he acknowledges he's gonna send krissy to an early grave. committing regicide is so based.
anyway LOVE OF MY LIFE?????????
does this track for an endgame or no?
oh god
FOR YOU
PARTY PRIIIIINCE LMAO
oh my god
MALIN????
JSKFJSKFKDGKDKGKKDKGKF
that was some king shit
"and I know erik did worse things in his day" understatement of the century
HE INVITED MALIN AND JOAKIM IM LOSING MY WHOLE DAMN MIND
JSKDKSKFKDLGIFLGKDLGKDLGKDLGKDLGK
king wilhelm fr
they're all so cute
seriously rosh and ayub are damn good friends
HE'S GOT THE FAKE GRASS IN HIS HAND
NOT REVOLUTION IM GON A LILLNYSLEFBFLGKDLFKD
ICANTKDL DELSIRBWIT TTJID
FUXIKC
they brought rosh and ayub I'm gonna cry
do you think rosh and stella are gonna kiss
oh
august looks like a mafia boss
WHAT ARE YOU APOLOGIZING FOR
oh. yeah. that was shitty. I also feel a lot of sympathy for that
oh fuck me I'm watching this in the train
"you know erik loved you more than anything else? the video with you two guys. it wouldn't have meant a thing"
I'm trying so hard not to sob but there's tears streaming down my face i
but I have stronger and more important feelings for you oh my fucking god I'm gonna start sobbing for real
im gonna cry
that was the best day of my life oh my god I'm making a scene in this train what the fuck
NOT THE HAIR
IM KILLINGMTSLEF
IS MY RADAR TOTALLY OFF AKFUSKFJDK
oh
they're totally drunk
NO WAY
NO WAY OH MY GOD THATS SO CUTKEJFLSJGSLFJDLFK
WHAT THE FUCKCJFLDKGKD
WHY WOULD WE LAUGH. WE'LL FIX THAT YOU'RE A STUD YOU CAN HAVE WHOEVER YOU WANT
BRO. VINCENT. NO.
AUGUST'S FACE IM GONNA KMS THEYRE SO CUTE STOP IT
oh don't go after her asshole you're drunk
HE KISSED HER WHY
OHHHHH
OH FUCK
YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH THE PERSON YOU BECOME WHEN YOU'RE WITH ME AND THATS NOT THE SAME THING OH FUCK
HE'S OFFERING TO RUN AWAY???
wille fully has no game huh. august did that immediately, wille is still all ooo im gonna be king my GOD ELOPE WITH SIMON
oh
FUCK SJFLANFJDLFKS
IT'LL PASS IS THIS A *JOKE*
big fan of the random two people with wille just BOLTING when they saw simon. like oooooohoho no this is NOT something we're doing tonight
FORGET WHAT
JUST FOR ONE NIGHT?
oh my god
WE'RE WORTH IT
I don't think I'm gonna take that. like I can't deal with that
no they're not doing that
they're not singing that song they're just not
no
I don't know why I thought it'd be a good idea to watch this in public transport
I thought it would be us
it was us and when it was us it was good
STELLA AND FREDRIKA LETS FUCKING GOOOOOO
FELICES FACE AND HER COVERING UP HER EARS IKFJLDJFLDKFLDKGDLKG
oh
ohh
WILLE'S SONFLSKF
DONT TAÑLTOME
I IN SJAMVLES
EVERYTHING IS FSKE
AUGUST HAS A PICTURE WITH HIM AND ERIK TOOB
oh wow that just broke me
:O
WHAT
THEYRE SINGING SIMON'S SOGN
akwñskd
im shakingb
that is such a nice tradition for the graduating class. I really like that.
KRISSY AND LUDWIG? ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE
oh yeah congrats august
why is kristina smiling is she happy abt her son going after the love of his life?
"even though it was sad" actually lmao
IT WASN'T IN VAIN DUMBASS
I NEVER GAVE UP ON US I GAVE UP ON THE ROYAL FAMILY
EHAJFJSF WILJELNW HAT TUECJCL
I HOPE YOU HAVE A NICE SUMMER WHAT RHEUFKCJSLFJDLFK
I'm gonna cry lmao
FELICE ISN'T GOING TO NEW YORK?
OH THEYRE GONNA RUN AWAY TOGETHER
YOUNG ROYALS' GREATEST LOVE STORY EVERYONE
oh my god
oh my GOD
oh man it took one (1) thing she didn't like for krissy to go back to a stuck up bitch
however, I just SCREAMED
there couldn't be any other way now could it
it couldn't have been any other way. truly.
I feel like I can't breathe but in a positive way
LET HIM GO OH MY GOD
omg August's face. bro knows he's fucked
YOU'RE NOT RUNNING AFTER A CAR WILHELM I SWEAR TO GOD
HE GOT OUT OF THE CAE
oh my gOF
OGMT
DID YOU CO IT FOR ME
NO ID DID IT FORNME
I WANT TK BE WITH YOU SIMON
ARE YOU SURE YOU'RE OVER ME - WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK
NSODKS
DIMLNSNFSCE
SIMON'S FSCE
VESCHEING
IM CRYING
JSL
THEYRE NOT DOING THIS TOMME
NO THEYRE OT
NOSROP
THE GIRLS
og
OG fod
the 4th wall break
no
fuck
fuck
fuck me I'm sobbing
god
what an honor it's been to love this show
thank you thank you thank you
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