#but i am SO glad to be able to put this one out into the world | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

The KCSC sent more than 20K requests to delete posts related to prostitution and porn to Tumblr from January to June 2017.

#but i am SO glad to be able to put this one out into the world

graythegreyt · 3 days

Note

AU details now I am very interested (you don’t have to)

HI ILLY THANK YOU FOR THE ASK I AM GLAD TO OBLIGE. I'M ASSUMING THIS IS ABOUT MY BUG NOIRE AU LET ME KNOW IF IT'S NOT

So basically. Cracks knuckles. The set-up of the AU is based nearly entirely on two concepts: 1. In the show, Bug Noire cannot stop grinning when she first unifies the Miraculous which I have capitalized on completely and taken to be a consequence of a power rush, and 2. Marinette in this scenario is the only one given both Miraculous, as Master Fu (or perhaps another, more strict order of guardians?) thought that entrusting the two most powerful Miraculous to multiple people was too dangerous.

(GIF taken from the Wiki!)

So in this AU, Mari is Paris' only magic defender, and she is SCARY. She has all the same incredible forward thinking that Ladybug does in canon, but without anyone to support her or protect her, she's gotten used to absolutely tanking damage and pressing on regardless with a wild air of enthusiasm. The unity of the two Miraculous of creation and destruction in this AU are nearly unbearable for mortals to handle; because they, unified, are Gimmi, representation of all of existence, wielding both at one causes interesting consequences.

(Screenshot also from the Wiki :3)

For Mari, that means she's full of a powerful joy and elation to be participating as an active agent of Existence (or Balance) in the universe, but she also revels in destruction and chaos, and every time she transforms she finds it harder to adjust to the more limited understanding that mortals possess. Tikki and Plagg are very worried about her, and Marinette is too, but under careful watch Mari cannot part with the Miraculous and instead presses on-- to her own detriment.

Alya and Adrien, on the other hand, have never met Mari. They're both newcomers to the school, but Marinette as a full-time hero never makes an appearance there. Instead, both Alya and Adrien befriend Nino who is their guiding light. He mitigates Alya's relentless drive to investigate akumas and vouches for Adrien's goodness to the class when Chloe puts it into question. The three grow close, but something's missing.

Alya meets Bug Noire when she's put herself into the battlefield, eager to film the mystery of the akuma and record it to the public on her BugBlog, since Noire herself seldom interacts with the public. Adrien, on the other hand, meets Bug Noire when he's being targeted by the akuma, and his inner desire to help recognizes that Noire, as wild and energetic as she is, seems to be struggling in a way that others don't see.

Noire, drunk on power but still fighting tooth and nail to retain a sense of her identity and her desire for companionship, is ecstatic to speak with Adrien and Alya but tries to keep them away from the fights as much as possible. Adrien and Alya, being themselves, of course don't let this stand and repeatedly put themselves in positions where Bug Noire would be a fool not to rely on them to help wear down an akuma, or evacuate the area, or break an object, or make shaky banter to. This grounds Bug Noire in a way she clings to, and she begins visiting Alya and Adrien not as a Miraculous user but as their friend.

In my head I feel like Alya and Adrien would convince Bug in the end to give them her Miraculous "to inspect" (can we see them!! They're so cool and you can use a break), and Marinette, Tikki, and Plagg would finally be able to speak to Alya and Adrien (and Nathalie and Alya's parents and Nino, presumably) to try to seek out the support they've been lacking after being out in this position. Perhaps this would be the catalyst for convincing the guardians that having multiple Miraculous active is a blessing rather than a needless risk?

Anyways that's all I've got for now!! Thank you for the ask Illy I am giving you a hug

#gray's soapbox #asks #illy 🌠#star emoji for you!!#solitary hero au #miraculous ladybug #bug noire #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #alya cesaire #ml tikki #ml plagg #ml gimmi #So many image IDs dies to death #gray draws #long post

38 notes · View notes

wonifullove · 9 hours

Text

— four. (2)

synopsis: in which you get dragged along by your older brother to a street race. coincidentally, catching the eyes of one racer, who just so happens to be the leader of that racing gang; violent boyz. after a breakup with your long term boyfriend.

series masterlist | next | previous

you patiently sat on your couch, waiting patiently for heeseung to pick you up. as you waited, you couldn’t help but get a rush of nervousness. after a long few minutes, you heard a faint knock on the door. you opened the door, seeing heeseung standing there; holding a big bouquet of flowers.

“hey pretty, these are for you.” heeseung hands you the flowers, the bright red roses rested beautifully in your arms; before you placed them into a small glass vase. heeseung took this time to admire your apartment, noticing every small aspect that made your home, your home.

“are all these awards yours, pretty?” heeseung glances onto the wall, noticing many certificates framed beautifully.

“yeah, some of them were from school.” you smiled, school was your specialty. something you were good at, and your work never went unnoticed.

heeseung smiled, running his fingers through your silk hair, “such a smart girl.” he murmurs, barely under a whisper where you’re able to hear him.

you couldn’t help but blush at his compliment. before getting too caught up in the moment, you felt a slight rise in tension. “ready to go?” you quickly changed the subject.

“yeah pretty, i’m ready.” heeseung held your bag, walking you to his black car.

his car was night black, the interior matching. his dark brown leather seats were rather comfortable, you saw why he enjoyed his car so much. heeseung’s car was more of a representation of himself. the black ice car refresher hits your nostrils, a hint of new car coming after.

heeseung’s car was kept clean, not a speck of dust or trash in sight. you sat down on the leather seat, securing your seatbelt as you watched heeseung get inside.

it was something about heeseung in the drivers seat that made you go insane. his hand on the gear stick, placing his car into reverse; before putting it back into drive and driving off. his one hand rested on the steering wheel, moving swiftly with ease. his other hand remained on the gear stick.

“i’m excited for tonight.” heeseung looked at you, before placing his eyes back into the road.

you smiled at his statement, feeling a bit nervous yourself. “yeah i am too.” you tried to forget about your nervousness, your palms grew sweaty as you sat in his passenger seat; realizing the current events. you were about to go on a date with the lee heeseung.

heeseung parked his car at a restaurant, one of which had looked like it was straight from the movies you watched. he got out of his car, rushing over the passenger side to open the door. he holds out his hand, making sure you exit the car carefully.

heeseung’s fingers intertwine with yours, leading you into a restaurant. the dark dimmed restaurant sent a rather intimate vibe to this small date. he pulls a chair out for you, allowing you to sit; before he does.

he calls over a waiter, seeming as if he’s familiar with his waiter.

“heeseung, my winner. what can u get you and your date.” he winks at you, a friendly smile on his face.

heeseung chuckles, “two steaks, one for me and one for my pretty girl. well done.” he looks at the waiter, before locking eye contact with you.

the waiter runs back into the kitchen, preparing each dinner for the two of you. heeseung reaches over the table for your hand, pressing a small kiss onto it.

“i’m glad you said yes to this date. i wanna know the real you.” his eyes dart from your hand to your eyes.

you smiled, your cheek flushed a bright pink as he continued to hold your hand. “me too, i feel as if there’s more to you than what meets the eye.”

you paused before continuing. “so what got you into racing?” you asked him.

heeseung sipped on his red wine before answering. “the thrill. racing was always my escape from my problems. whenever i wasn’t myself, i go in my car and speed down wherever i can.”

you felt a strong attraction, once heeseung mentioned he enjoyed racing for the thrill. after all, you enjoyed thrill as well. from this moment, heeseung was a missing puzzle piece; someone you needed in your life.

the food finally came out, “cheers to us.” heeseung raised his wine glass, allowing to clink with yours. you and heeseung continued to enjoy the mean, sharing small conversations such as your college and what you do for a living. he ended the night with a warm chocolate cake, how did he know it was your favorite?

heeseung smiled, as he reached over the table and wiped a small bit of chocolate cake from your lips. “ready to end this night on a thrilling note?” he places the money and tip into the server’s hand before grabbing into yours, leading the two of you into the dark night sky.

the two of you get back into his car, before it redirects to an empty highway, little to no lights being visible.

heeseung’s foot presses on the gas, a sharp roar coming from his car. he speeds down the empty highway, one hand on the steering wheel, while another finds its way to your thigh; gently caressing it his thumbs.

he rolled down his windows, allowing you to enjoy the speed; the wind blowing through your hair. from that highway, heeseung slowed down; redirecting his way to your home.

he double parted his car in front of your home, stepping out to walk you to your doorstep; his arm around your shoulder.

“i had a wonderful time tonight. i hope we can do this again pretty. he smiled, heeseung’s smile shined brighter than the stars in the current night sky.

you smiled, feeling your cheeks get pink. “me too.”

without any hesitation, heeseung plants a small kiss on your lip, before pulling away and caressing your soft lips with his thumb. “as a little reminder of our time together.” he smirked, before saying one finally goodbye.

you watched as he walked to his car, before opening your house door and walking inside.

(📝) :: SAV’S NOTES: ermmm i just wanna apologize for not updating in a really really long time! times have been difficult but here we are! updates will not be slow anymore and i will be trying my best 😁. also if you see any spelling errors PLEASE disregard them! >3<

(💫) :: COME AND SEE ME TAGLIST: @naespas @sainns @sanrikis @natsukee, @andsooowhat @aerivrs @heeslut4life @lhspeachie @yourssincerely-mimi @sophi-ee @haechansbbg @jaeyunluvr @caratinluv @saursoob @flwrstqr @kim2005bomi @antoncyng @crybqbyme @iheartjayke @milkycloudtyg @mangoxcinx @dimplewonie

23 notes · View notes

blue-bird-lamentation · 1 year

Photo

Looking at some screenshots from accomplice vs golden ending (or bad vs good endings, in general) I noticed that in the first case Yosuke is the last element in the group to speak, while in the second case he is the first one (and he really does not have much to say cause he knows they’ll meet in the future):

In bad endings, Yosuke is the last person to speak. He thanks the main character for the help, yet the vibes are just depressing and sad. The fog wasn’t lifted, the real culprit wasn’t caught (or they believe they caught him but it wasn’t the right person. tbh it gets more disturbing in the accomplice ending case, because the main character found the truth, but he decides to hide it from the others and to reject it (by burning the piece of evidence), and, Yosuke’s words will hit harder “You really helped us out with lots of stuff. Thanks, partner.” <- Yosuke always there, making me feel bad every single time i try to reach Adachi - rightfully tbh), no Dojima nor Nanako nor Teddie there at the station. It’s all gloomy, everyone is sad...because of Nanako’s situation, because of their own actions (if they kill Namatame they kinda do the same he did, manipulated by the killer, and in the name of self proclaimed “Justice” <- Nanako’s arcana, which is just revenge and has severe consequences), and/or a feeling of uselessness because the mystery wasn’t solved. No one runs for the train (the mood is really heavy, and the fog also reduces the visibility).

In the good endings, Yosuke is actually the first one to talk and... he does not even have much to say. He had previously said that he wouldn’t even saying goodbye, cause Yu/Souji would be probably come visit them soon. The mystery was solved, the sky is clean, Dojima Nanako and Teddie are there too, and even if saying goodbye is hard, they all feel like their bonds are strong and that their friendship is stronger than ever. It’s a sad moment but with happy tones, and they will surely meet again (the same won’t probably happen in the bad endings, because even if not revealed to them, the fog will spread and everyone will become shadows).

Yosuke’s expression is kinda similar in both cases, but knowing what has happened in the bad endings gives another meaning to his expression in the bad ones (it also makes me think about the scene where he catches Yu/Souji coming from the TV at Junes, after visiting Adachi, because it begs the question of how much does Yu/Souji trusts the team).

Yu/Souji’s stare is a bit different in both cases, looking more relaxed and calm in the good scenario, although in the bad ending he seems to be staring with some kind of affection (like, appreciation for their friendship and for believing in him, even if, in the accomplice ending he basically fucked everything up).(well, truth be told, they decided to recycle this part for every bad ending, so Yu/Souji will always look like that, being it his belief that Namatame is the killer or his hidden secret about Adachi. And the team looks the same, be it because of the unfortunate circumstances, or because they may feel Yu/Souji might have been hiding something <- which also reminds me how in many game options Yosuke keeps reminding him that he should not be the one carrying all the weight of the investigation and he should trust the team too)The accomplice ending final scene even adds an Adachi roaming aimlessly (or purposely crossing the line when the train Yu/Souji’s in is passing), and it is terrifying, kinda creepy (tbh it felt like he had became a shadow at that point and that he had been able to cross the line without being caught by the train because of that...at least it was what i felt first time watching it).He is waiting for the world as they know to simply end, and even if Yu/Souji decided to burn the piece of evidence, he does not even care about him as a person.On the other hand, completing his social link in a good ending route rewards you with a letter from him (and he calls Izanami bitch in the final final final final battle <3 certified Adachi moment).You can take his words however you want, but it feels like he truly appreciated the times he spent with Dojima, Nanako and Yu/Souji, even if he would still rather see the world burn than try to improve as a person. It does not mean he becomes a better person afterwards, but i guess he understands the concern some people still had for him, which is something he does no feel with Yu/Souji betraying everything he fought for until that moment (also cause going accomplice route is giving up the world, basically).On a final note, I also love how Dojima’s dialogue at the end (before leaving the house) changes depending on which bad ending the player gets, and how his questions are so on point, as if he was acting like some kind of conductor for the player to reflect on their choices.

#persona 4 golden spoilers #persona 4 spoilers #includes the good ending and accomplice ending #having a brainrot about this #i shamelessly did the accomplice ending the other day #not cool but at the same time the OST was so right and the final scene is just perfect...sorry for being kinda obsessed with it #anyways the good true golden ending is amazing i am glad they see each other again. yosuke is happy which is good #but hmmm. i spent 1 hour or more in call with a friend talking about this and now i decided to write this instead of sleeping #sorry for any spelling mistakes i just had to take a portion of my brainrot out of my head #p4g spoilers #p4 spoilers #feel free to comment or add. these are just some of my thoughts #i personally think the bad endings have not that much detail to them but i still like some of the differences between them.#and i especially love they added the accomplice and let you max the SL while saying in your face that you fucked up this time #not even Adachi rewards you anything special. yu gets his number so he can control him #the dialogue was so good tho...#also sorry for how messy this text may look/be #i messed up with the post format and i don't wanna copy and put the pictures again so i had to add the ones at the beginning #in order to be able to post ( i suck at this)#long post

24 notes · View notes

choctalksalot · 10 months

Note

hello! i love the way you draw dirk. do you have any thoughts on vrisjade?

!!! holy shit! it's kris deltarune!!

thank you, he is simply such an awful little guy, i love drawing him sleep deprived and full of (my) autism <33

on to vrisjade... don't mind me dumping a whooole truckload of Words under the cut this is how i process things to make decisions

so. vrisjade. not a ship i particularly know nor look for, but neither was jakeradia yknow i can find joy in anything! and they're no exception, i think i would give silly doggirl and her Will Bite You spider gf a nice pat on the head. looking at both their Um It's Complicated dating histories and raising an eyebrow..oh man would they need time, So much of it, but yknow when it culminates into vriska bullying her gamer gf into Drinking your goddamn w8er!!!!!!!! mid-cod game, and jade tackling vriska to the floor simply for the sake of it, that's goals tbh. think i might like them vacillating pitch. maybe? that's something i'll have to explore in content to figure out thinking face

there's something about the fact that vriska holds herself to a standard of being the one who Has Her Shit Together (lol. lmao even) and how she makes it a point to push the people she cares about to do the same, or at the very least if they're soooooooo inc8pable, leave it to her. cross that with jade "i have to keep everything together i have to do the things right i have to be the hero, i cannot fall apart, i have to get this Done" harley, you get something fascinating.

they're both so cripplingly lonely, one physically one emotionally (saying this loosely, they cross into each other in this aspect), and struggle heavily with vulnerability. vriska desperately wants to be heard, but more than that doesn't want to be seen as weak. jade just wants everything to be okay. have to be seen in a certain way, guiding lights, ugly messes beneath the brilliant glow. the sun and the stars. i think they should bite and maybe kill a little

oh man will they need a lot of time to work this out though. i think it could easily topple into something unsatisfying and painful for them both, it's like almost midnight i can't quite grasp why yet. but i think, if they love each other despite it, they will be able to find a way to be okay.

also john can pull vriska aside and hiss you're dating my SISTER???????? and frankly that's fucking hilarious

#choc talks #homestuck #jadevris #ask game #great to see you here mate i've seen you running around my blog!! spotted first time months ago from a johnkat post #im glad you're having a good time :D #this ask game is like the first one where ife been like. Pushed to put my opinions out there #which im really grateful for actually i have So Many Thoughts that im too scared to say..#thank you everyone who sent asks it's the only way i've been able to talk about my obsession shdjjsd #keep it coming honestly!! this is really fun!!#and please feel free to reblog and/or discuss this with me i love hearing other perspectives #+ am frequently wrong about things. tell me stuff!!

6 notes · View notes

daisychainsandbowties · 1 year

Note

page 2 of 68!?!? ava really can talk huh

but fr literally cannot wait for next chap, actively salivating

i didn't think it was possible for me to love ava silva more than i did already, but writing almost 40,000 words of her voice in about 14 days !!! it takes a certain kind of character to drag that many words out of me. i had outlined a 10k chapter because i didn't think i COULD write in ava's voice, but i hope i've captured a little piece of her in this.

the support for this fic has me crying in the club so thank you!!

#also it's 68 pages in my absolute madman 10.5 font #it's unbelievable to me that if you added 3k to this chapter it could be considered a novel #only in the strictest sense but still. ava can talk <3 #this is a love letter to ava & to shannon & to mary #also we DO get a new major character introduced (they're a space pirate!)#& also you will discover that i'm not normal or reasonable about droids. and neither is ava #anyway. i'm 10/68 pages edited so i'm guessing i'll be finished in the next 12 hours #& then i have to totally reformat the whole fic on ao3 because casper is a himbo #and only realised when yesterday that i could. not!!! have obnoxiously wide gaps between paragraphs #but i am SO glad to be able to put this one out into the world #also to get it out of my brain lmao #wn star wars au #anon

10 notes · View notes

forbiddcnsirvn · 11 months

Photo

instagram » DEVILSERPENT uploaded a new photo.

DEVILSERPENT:

Five years. Half a decade. Sixty months. However you slice it, that’s how long Cyrek and I have been bound in this wild ride. The fucking audacity of us - two broken souls hitching their wagons to each other - is almost laughable. If you’re waiting for the sweet nothings and poetic drivel, you may want to hit the door right about now. Cyrek and I are not your garden variety, sickeningly saccharine, fairy-tale protagonists. Far from it. We’re at war against each other just as much as we love; there’s no grand castle with spires touching the sky, no enchanting serenades beneath balconies. Rather, we’re more akin to the shadows that creep out when the day fades away - a pair of misfits navigating the underbelly of life, perfectly content within our chaotic obscurity. Over the course of our relationship, we’ve traversed a veritable minefield. Losses that have reduced us to specters of our former selves, injuries leaving indelible marks on both flesh and psyche, and the harsh pangs of life, in general - dreams conceived and lost in the same cruel breath. Our journey has been anything but easy; we’ve crawled through the darkest tunnels, stumbling blindly, yet always feeling our way forward, together. We’ve helped each other to be the versions of ourselves.

Now Cyrek, that stubborn, yet undeniably irresistible arse, where do I even start? This one is a living, breathing paradox. Each day, he squares off against unseen opponents in the arena of his mind. Shite that could make the uninitiated squirm. Yet he stands tall, albeit a bit skewed, weathering the storms that batter him from within. He’s not the shining knight on a white horse; more like a war-weary soldier with tarnished chest, yet never hesitating to get back into the fray. The shadows he battles aren’t for the faint-hearted, yet he does. Every day. And here’s the part where I want to punch anyone who spouts that ‘just smile and be happy’ bullshit right in their cheery face. It’s not that easy. Not for him, not for any of us.

And yet - here’s the clincher - he’s the best damn father I could’ve asked for our kids. He’s not just dealing with his own demons, he will be teaching our kids how to duel with theirs, too. There’s no pretense, no false promises of ‘everything’s fine.’ He’s raw and real, and he’s showing our children that it’s okay to be human, to be flawed, to hurt, and to keep on fighting anyway. It isn’t a bed of roses. Hell, it’s more like a field of thorns with the occasional bloom. But those blooms are worth every scratch, every moment of pain. He’s taught me that beauty can be found in the most unexpected places, like the heart of a person who fights monsters and still tucks our kids into bed with a gentle smile and a story to make them dream of better things.

And I couldn’t have asked for anything better. I want more, in fact, I’d never want it to end. Here’s to our five years and more. I have loved you for so long, and undoubtedly, I always will.

Happy anniversary, sugar. @nxnbinarydracvla

#&& INSTAGRAM.#Q.#i genuinely hope this will come out ok omg #i did my best with ruptured connection last night to try and get things up and some other obstacles #but i am DETERMINED to put this out because i miss them so much #i miss being here and i miss the ships and being able to interact with y’all #i have such fond memories of cyren… my ass almost cracking from thesis is one #but i remember they were one of my lights in le darkness when i was struggling a lot #and they still are #they mean a lot to me and they will always do #i’m always so happy to be able to trek back and think about the progress they have made #my first ever ship for evren and i’m glad it’s them <333

5 notes · View notes

tachyon-omlette · 1 year

Note

📓

I keep thinking about Eda's first day having a holoform - in the context of TFA, in this case. it's such a strange sensation for him, to be so small, to look everywhere around yourself and have a landscape that towers over you rather than the other way around.

it'd be at least several years after the Autobots crashland but still within the 50-year timeskip; the presence of the Allspark reactivated his defense mechanisms which in turn reactivated everything else, and after a while he gets a scope of where he is physically and figures out how to tap into various data systems to learn what life exists native to the planet he's on (Earth, of course, but he doesn't know that). when he does manifest a holoform he's in a full-body suit of armor and severely out of place, shaking poor bystanders by their lapels and demanding to know where and when he is a la Kyle Reese from The Terminator, screaming and ranting about the Allspark and how it signified "the beginning of the end for this world", eventually attracting the attention of the Detroit Police. after a brief scuffle and the destruction of at least one police robot, Eda gets apprehended - but he allows them to bring him to the station because he understands 1) he's not in any real danger, and 2) past experience tells that whoever leads the law enforcement often is a source of information. he gets questioned by Fanzone but is calculated in what he reveals, speaking largely in riddles and omens much to Fanzone's frustration, all while taking in more intel about Earth and humans than he provides about himself. he's put in the station's holding cell but vanishes overnight, having dissipated his holoform - but given that the police didn't know he was only solid light, they assume he somehow escaped and put out a warrant for his arrest. all broadcasted images are of him in armor, his face largely obscured.

across town, far from where he was first apprehended, Eda reappears in a more casual outfit, brazenly maintaining the same base appearance but blending into the crowd all the same. it'd be an immense inconvenience to be caught again so soon, but he wants to be certain that he can be found when everyone realizes he was right.

#i don't have an asks tag yet #transformers #maccadam #transformers oc #tfa #oc: eda of unicron #wig i apologize for taking so long to answer this. when i reblogged the ask meme i was SO puddingbrained which is on me #but i am glad i was able to put this one out there. want eda to prophecize the appearance of the Autobots bc he senses the allspark #thinking again about your oc Mac - if she & Eda met when he was at the station they'd have one hell of an exchange #would she recognize him when he visits her bar a few years later? if not via appearance he'd be unmistakable in conversation #now THAT'S another fic idea /pos #thewiglesswonder

3 notes · View notes

scottspack · 2 years

Text

okay wait actually i saw a post about how the surge of puritanical teens online stems from these kids growing up without any online privacy which CLICKED for me and is so so so true and why im so glad ive kept my tumblr separate and secret from my real life for literally a decade because truly i believe you need somewhere private to be weird whether that’s in a specific friend group or online or whatever but if everything you do and consume and enjoy is peer reviewed by people who have direct access to you irl, it’s going to make you extremely extremely cautious about doing or consuming or enjoying anything that people around you might think is weird and then you become the young person online spouting off rhetoric that even my bible thumping hick ass republican grandma would think is old fashioned

#genuinely being able to consume questionable/taboo/sexually explicit/quote unquote weird things online #without anyone in my day to day life knowing about it #made me a more well rounded and tolerant and accepting person #you need to be allowed to be weird somewhere where the stakes are low and no one is going to hold anything against you #so that your mind can be opened to new things and you can try out new ways of thinking and make a decision for yourself #without some girl from your english class saying your a freak for it #does any of this make sense? it’s fine if this gets ignored #i just have always doubted whether it’s been worth keeping my tumblr a secret for over a decade #but this really put into perspective how glad i fucking am that i did it #privacy is good privacy is great you should be able to enjoy weird shit without having your friends and family judge you for it #there’s a lot of nuance here so IF anyone reads this i expect you to take it in good faith

7 notes · View notes

hoseoksluna · 1 month

Text

STEAM | myg ft. jjk

pairing: boyfriend!yoongi x oc (feat. jungkook)

genre: smut

word count: 9.2k

summary: one video call awakens your neediness for two cocks.

playlist: steam / pinterest board: steam

warnings: female masturbation, mentions of shower sex, praise kink, toying with the idea of polyamory, a hint of voyeurism, oc rly goes through it and faces mental battles, fear, intoxication, punishment, dom/sub dynamics, fingering, choking, cum eating, manhandling, degradation, provocation, mutual masturbation, rough & raw sex, brief oral sex (f. receiving), pet names

note: IT'S FINALLY HEREEEEEE SKFDSFLSFJ, okay so—let me introduce to you a new yoongi series featuring JUNGKOOK oh my god. i am SO EXCITED about this and i wanna apologize for my insane ideas in advance... i'm so sorry, guys. nevertheless, i hope you like this as much as i do, i literally went mad writing this and i smoked so many cigarettes i lost count. please, let me kNOW UR FAVORITE PARTS CUZ I HAVE SO MANY AND I WANNA TALK ABOUT THEM. oh fuck, guys. ENJOY READING SDKFJSD. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

side note: btw, the playlist i made is literally perfect and depicts the fic wonderfully. you can listen while you read! <3

The scent of mangoes finds its way up your nostrils, heating your senses through its balmy touch as you rub the body butter over the damp skin of your arms. Fingers graze along your décolletage, tucking in the fragrance for your boyfriend to breathe in when he comes home. He’s out for the night—said something about his friend finishing his military service, so the whole group was going out to celebrate it. Yoongi was so frantic in his excitement, hastily putting on the first outfit that sparked his eye. Didn’t even touch his hair, only sprayed a mist of his sandalwood and tangerine-tinged perfume. Grabbed his phone, keys, wallet. Barely kissed you goodbye before he fled out of the door.

He didn’t even ask you if you wanted to come along.

You didn’t mind, though—you’re only in the early stages of your relationship. It hasn’t even been half a year since you’ve started dating. And you figure he deserves a night out with his closest friends because you’ve been attached to the hip since the beginning. Funnily enough, you no longer live at your own place. Somehow, you’ve settled in Yoongi’s apartment, never setting foot outside, save for your walks, grocery shopping, the few dates with your friends and work. There wasn’t any conversation about it; you just mostly spend your free time with your boyfriend.

And all you do is fuck, eat and watch movies.

The last time Yoongi took you out was during the first two months you’d been getting to know him. The realization of how long it’s been sends a trail of chills down your arms and you rub it away.

But because you’ve been spending all your time together, you’re glad to have a moment to yourself—glad to be able to take a long hot shower, to do your hair and skincare. Perhaps, you’ll even have time to do your nails and that energizes you, propels you to spread the body butter further down the rest of your body. It is your rose garden, these night times reserved for your hot showers. The place you go to—your hideaway from the pressure and nerves of life that the steam loosens and soothes, especially when you let your sultry playlist echo through the mightiness of Yoongi’s bathroom, your favorite singer’s voice reaching your veins like the growing stems of those roses; pretty, pink and so feminine. Yes, Yoongi’s therapy sessions and thick length might have been a great help, the best in fact, but there’s something about letting yourself be burned off of all that’s been weighing you down and watching it trickle down the drain that is just so satisfying.

It was all that you were once used to. That is, until you met Yoongi.

Showers with him are something else.

Something you never thought you could ever have the blessing to encounter. Showers with Yoongi are intense, so out of pocket that you find yourself thinking about them fondly whenever you’re alone with your thoughts. There, beneath the downpour of the warm water, he lets you see the other side of his ever unyielding stern façade. While holding you, he would make you laugh, then make you moan and break that sound with each hard plunge of his cock. Hair slicked back, smirk adorning that delicious wet mouth, causing him to look like a Mafioso bent on absolutely ruining you. He would tell you the most insane story he heard from his friend, then talk you through the build-up of your orgasm while continuing to the point of that story—seamlessly waving through, never losing tempo. “Then, he went up to his hyung to ask him about what he did—yes, just like that, honey, take it. I know you’re almost there, just listen.” You would come all over his cock, sprinkling him with your essence, right there at the end of his story and like a hungry man, he’d get on his knees and eat you up, muttering how good you are and how well you did along with each swipe of his tongue. Your lungs would heave due to the overstimulation, your legs would tremble, unable to stand and he’d gather you into his arms, fold you like paper into the crooks of his body and let his thick duvet drape over you. He’d fall asleep first, breathing in the scent of your shampoo, snoring softly behind you while spooning you, never letting go of his deathly grip around you. And while you would breathe in the haze of lilac sprayed on his pillows, you’d become aware of the drowsy rhythm of his heartbeat, the lift and fall of his chest against your back, the snug heat of his body and it would lull you to sleep.

That has become your new version of hot long showers.

And if it isn’t this, then it’s Yoongi letting you quickly wash yourself before he’d steal you away, dragging you into this bed, only to carry you back there an hour later.

You speculate he has a serious, adorable case of attachment issues.

That is why you enjoy your exceptional alone shower all the more—you haven’t had it in so long. Only this time, it’s quite different.

You feel him everywhere.

You feel him in the drift of your hand down your tummy because you recollect the way he likes to pepper kisses there on his way to eat you out. You feel him when you round your palms across your backside because you know he particularly likes to leave traces of saliva when he presses open-mouthed kisses there. His love for you circulates in your bloodstream, mingling with the little love you have for yourself, making it bigger, turning it into a turbulent rush of liquid. You sense it tapping beneath your skin, asking for more of your body just like Yoongi does, always begging, begging for more—for more skin to kiss and lick, for more sensitive parts of you to find and nibble on.

Your hands sense the ghost of him even when your fingers slip past your mound and realize that the film of your memories dampened your cunt. You hear the words of praise he’d utter into your ear at the discovery and you sigh at your tender touch.

That’s a good girl. Messy for me.

The rotund case of your body butter remains opened, forgotten. You suddenly have better things to do—like give your body the self-care, the self-love it deserves.

It’s a part of the solo girl's night.

A mewl comes out of your mouth at the first round of circles on your clit. Furrowing your brows at the pleasure, you prop your free hand on the edge of the bathroom counter, riding the pads of your fingers. And then, just like Yoongi taught you, you take your digits away, edging yourself, taking them elsewhere. You cry out at the contact of your wet fingertips on your stiff nipple and you pinch the nub, a spasm of delight coursing through your sensitiveness.

You imagine Yoongi standing behind you. Not touching you, merely guiding you, telling you when to stop, when to pick up the pace—when to fill your hole. Watching you in the mirror, hands in his pockets, having a perfect view of your slick-caked folds, of your clit swollen and asking for his tongue. Determined to make you lose your mind by teasing you, letting you only slap your pussy once you’re close. Your essence drips out of you at that thought, making a mess on the floor and you plug it in with your finger, fucking yourself steadily, inflamed by how slippery your heat is, how easy it is to slip the digit inside. Hot flashes close over your body, pearls of perspiration kissing the crook of your neck. You fuck yourself faster and—

A sudden ring of your phone jolts you. And the picture of your boyfriend, half dressed, with the early morning sunlight leaking over the scars and tattoo on his shoulder, crammed inside your screen, greets you.

You pant hard, your finger still inside of you. Delirious.

He must be on his way home. You don’t even know what time it is.

Leaning forward, you hide your breasts behind your forearm and you swipe your finger to accept his video call.

Blurry Yoongi. The night sky, starlit and alive, behind him. A shoal of silhouettes, some lanky and some buff, all short-haired and all as woozy-lidded as you. The picture smooths into a crystal clear view and there you see your boyfriend, the nocturnal breeze brushing his ebony hair back. Not just him, however, but another male craning his neck to regard you fully.

His eyes flicking from your neck to the smallest of your exposed décolletage, a smirk blossoming on his face like your imaginary roses.

Yoongi slaps his phone face down. You withdraw your finger from your heat, a cacophony of giggles, whiny cries and the exclamations of his name emitting out of your mouth.

He is not, in fact, on his way home.

It is a warning, his low and strict call of your name back and, heeding it, you take your phone into your hands, so he’s only able to see your deeply flushed face. Device back in his hand, he’s not looking at you at all. As a matter of fact, he’s shooting daggers fueled with deadly nightshade at his friend, grumbling something that you can’t quite make out amidst the chaos and bustle of the outing. The shoal of the rest of his friends and strangers disappear out of the perspective, as if threatened by the cold energy.

You wish you knew what he’s saying to him. Even your pussy aches to hear it. The principle of him scolding his friend for looking at you at your most private moment scorches you and you’re red, flattered and majestically horny.

Yoongi turns his head to see if you’re well-behaved and you beam at him, the pulse on your clit intensifying, forcing you to say, “come home, Yoongi.”

He chuckles, aware of the reason behind your words, pretends he isn’t. “What were you doing, baby?”

The growth of your grin doesn’t falter. You show him the sheen of your wet finger in the ivory bathroom light, the glint, the stickiness as you push your index finger to your middle and pull away, your arousal on full, filthy display.

He curses under his breath. Doesn’t give a fuck that his friend sits beside him and adjusts in his seat. Bites his lip briefly. “Stick it in your mouth for me.”

Doesn’t say the words that so very often follow after in that sentence. Taste yourself.

Why he doesn’t step aside to take this video call eludes you, but something about you being watched by two pairs of eyes excites you. Enough for you to do as he says. Perhaps it’s due to the fact you don’t know the male sitting beside him and Yoongi is letting him keep his sight glued to the screen.

Two sharp inhales of breath. Not one of yours. Yoongi readies his hook to feignedly lash out at his friend and you press your thighs together to alleviate yourself of the unbearable feeling between your legs. Confidence, a bad, bad version of confidence suffuses you whole, turning you into a person gone mad by lust. You swirl your tongue around your digit, the tanginess of your taste causing your eyes to narrow, the principle of driving not just one, but two men mad just the same intoxicates you, as if you were there among them, drinking.

A pair of round eyes peek at the corner of the screen. Soft, naive, so terribly innocent. A dash of sobriety washes over you, owed to those brownish effervescent orbs, a sprinkle shame pooling low in your core. A reality check. You sense some kind of stability of that reality beneath those eyelashes of his, the stability that whispers—is this the right thing to do?

It’s not rough, it’s not stern, it’s not Yoongi coded—it’s anything but. Gentleness is what you detect, free of any prejudice.

You sigh. Millions of thoughts about how you could toy with them pass through your mind, but you decide against them, the stability a pillar that blends into your spine, helping it unbend. You can’t do this; you can’t do this to Yoongi and you need to keep your dignity intact in some way, despite the fact that every fiber of your body compels you to do the opposite. You distract yourself by screwing the lid of your body butter back on.

“Good girl,” Yoongi coos, causing you to whisk your eyes to the screen in perhaps disbelief, shame or your still pending arousal—you’re not sure. How can you be a good girl when you let another man see something so lewd? How can your boyfriend validate something like that? “One more beer and I’ll be home. Wait for me on the bed. As you are.”

Naked.

Heat rushes to your cheeks, to the surface of every part of your skin, dragging away small ounces of shame. You curse, mentally, running a hand down your face. Yoongi downs his drink without taking his gaze off of you, watching your reaction, adds once he swallows, “and don’t touch yourself.”

And with that, he hangs up.

The harsh comprehension of what the fuck just happened envelops you in a confining embrace, the precipitately increasing weight of shame now a burden on your shoulders that you just can’t shake off, even when you slink your arms through sleeves of your silky robe and welcome in the summer breeze coming to caress your face on the balcony—even when you burst your lighter to a flame and light up your cigarette, inhaling the smoke that you hoped would rid you of its such uncomfortable hold around you.

You licked your cum clean under the gape of a guy you don’t know in front of your boyfriend.

His friend heard the order. Don’t touch yourself. Yoongi didn’t whisper it. Didn’t camouflage his words in any way. Uttered them straight and bare, allowing his friend to hear them, despite the fact he almost fought him then and there for sneaking one glance at your moderately naked form.

Question marks hover in your mind and the pulse on your clit cries, seemingly knowing the answer.

Did Yoongi like it as much as you did, the aspect of having an audience?

The wetness in your heat dribbles out, staining your thighs. You squeeze them together, the drag of your cigarette hard and long, expecting to feel your nerves burn off. You gain no such thing—no relief, no lifting of the burden, just constricting tangles in your tummy, zippy spasms of butterflies going mad, mad, mad.

Perhaps Yoongi didn’t like it at first until he perceived the auspicious debauched look on your face. Saw the way you didn’t hesitate to oblige him when he told you to stick your finger in your mouth. And perhaps the fact that you didn’t express any signal of discomfort was the key to unfastening the leash on his possessiveness over you.

What have you done? What have you so selfishly and disgustingly done?

You hang your head in your hands, the white smoke intertwining with the burden on your shoulders and pressing down harder on you.

That’s why he let his friend hear the command. Don’t touch yourself. He saw the way you indulged in it, and that awakened his liking for it.

Yoongi lied when he said he’d have one more beer.

By the time you hear the thunder of his voice, all the roses in your garden have wilted, leaving faded, withered petals in its wake—leaving a path of your internal battle all around the apartment for Yoongi to follow. You’ve paced, your bare feet stepping on them. Tried to untangle yourself from the incarceration of your mind by chain-smoking, but to no avail. The only change that took place in your body was the decline of your shame, for you couldn’t help but imagine what could have happened, had you let free rein to your desire—had those round eyes never looked at you with such purity. You figured there wasn’t anything bad about letting your imagination be colored like that, and so you sat on your boyfriend’s couch, cigarette switched to a coconut-flavored vape, and dreamed.

You dreamed about those two men being of service to you, right here on the same couch, where they would lay you down and make you squirt over and over again, betting between each other who could make you come the fastest, counting down your orgasms until the number was a mere blur to you.

The throb on your clit heightened to heavenly levels and when you emerged from your dream, you found yourself being able to breathe—your momentary disappearance tricking your shame into leaving. It was difficult for you not to touch yourself and you opted to adhere to Yoongi’s wish, not risking to feel worse than you already had.

The war ended, undeterred by the fact you never expected it to.

Loud swear words roar in Korean. You rise to your feet to open the front door for Yoongi and you discover that he’s not alone at all.

The same pair of round eyes, the cause of all the ruckus you just departed from, meet yours, hauling you back there with a force. Your mouth falls agape and before you can react any further, Yoongi stumbles into you. You almost topple over, realizing you didn’t care to steal a glance at the state of him, but the male grabs a hold of Yoongi’s jacket and pulls him back. You wish you had tumbled over and the floor had opened up and swallowed you whole. It would have been less embarrassing than to be stuck in this situation. You want to run, you want to scream—

“He’s drunk out of his own mind,” the male says, his voice deep like the warm wind before a tumultuous storm, fitting just right with the thunder of Yoongi’s intonation, his gaze wandering over the entirety of your shock-stricken face, taking it in; giving you the same attention that fucked you up hours ago. Yoongi begins to mumble something you can’t momentarily focus on, his hands grasping your waist, lips latching onto your neck. No, you cannot for the life of you focus because the man steals you all over again and you hate how easy it is for him to do that, when you’re far from being available. “Don’t ask what made him drink this much.”

Did Yoongi get drunk because he let his friend in on your most intimate moment?

Humiliated, turned on and angry altogether, a concoction that simply worsens everything, you draw back from your boyfriend. You want to beat at his chest with your fists just to have some sort of relief from blaming him—because if you blame yourself, only doom consumes you. Why did he call you? Or, essentially, why didn’t he step away to take that damned video call?

“Thanks for walking him home,” you say eventually, your voice smooth, despite the violence of your feelings, despite wanting to say something else entirely. Your first words to him and, wholeheartedly—despite it all, you hope they aren’t last, even if that possibly makes you a despicable person.

Yoongi’s friend nods. Chews his bottom lip and lowers his gaze to the ground for a split second. You wonder if he feels the need to remove himself from this uncomfortable situation as much as you do because you can’t read anything in that paleness of his countenance. Not a hint of any emotion whatsoever, just blandness of expression, slightly dimmed by the few thick strands of black hair that have fallen from his disheveled, pushed back mullet. As if they did fight after all, perhaps on the way home, or wrestled if Yoongi was being difficult.

You don’t realize you and the male are just staring at each other until Yoongi places his hand on your cheek, brushing back a wisp of your tresses. Only then do your eyes flick to Yoongi’s and you finally notice him, the gloss in his hooded irises searching and searching for you, the rosy blush on his cheeks, dry parted mouth and the dart of his tongue as he wets it, softening the flecks that have been created there.

This is it. If you are focused on him, all things are made right—all things that have been stained get purified and dreams get turned into dust. This is the man you’ve fallen for, who puts you before himself and has done so every day since the moment he made you his. You can’t let anyone else get in the way of the home that your relationship has become, you can’t let your feelings flee—

“For the record,” Yoongi’s friend starts, hand massaging circles on the nape of his neck, the leather of his jacket tight around his arm. Your heart jumps and beats against your chest ferociously. “I didn’t see anything, if that helps you sleep better tonight.”

It’s such a fat lie and you’re about to shake your head, but then he looks at you with such sincere regret that, ultimately, you choose to believe him. Just to keep your peace of mind unscarred.

Yoongi tightens his hold around your waist, which grounds you, and a small part of you begins to bloom in healing, disseminating little by little across your whole body.

A healer with big, round eyes. A good man.

With a swing, Yoongi closes the door but you don’t hear the click. No, the light spills in from the hallway. Your hands reach for the doorknob but Yoongi blocks them and wraps them around his waist while swaying on his feet. He traces the shell of your ear with his lips, his alcohol-reeking breath wafting over you, and softly, you whine his name. Shuffling beyond the door, feet never entirely moving—the male is still standing outside and he hears as Yoongi hums at your call, as the sound grows into a groan at the feeling of being alone with you at last, at the feeling of all that makes you feminine under his hands. He hears your gasp as Yoongi pushes your chest flush to his body, kisses you harshly and cups your bare pussy. Hears the smack of your mouths, the pop once he withdraws, the squelch of your wetness. Hears as Yoongi murmurs, “you been horny, baby? Wet for me, hm?”

It’s those words that make him shut the door for you.

You made Yoongi drink a lot of water.

And while he downed the glasses, you ordered him Thai food from his phone, which he now devours. You had wanted to change out of your flimsy robe into your plush pajamas, but Yoongi stopped you with a tight grip on your shoulder and with the nastiest puppy eyes he could manage, considering his plastered state, he begged you not to. Informed you that he wanted to fuck you in your little robe and you told him that if he wanted that, he needed to get sober.

He’s your boyfriend and you trust him, but you don’t feel comfortable having sex with him while he’s wasted and you’re not. It’s a dangerous territory you don’t ever want to cross.

So, now he eats as quietly as a mouse, feeding you every other bite with his chopsticks, meanwhile you’re jittering your leg with your arms crossed across your chest, mind full of the male who walked him home. Of the way he pulled you under and resurfaced with you soon after. Of the calm peace you feel all over the perimeter of your mind that peculiarly stresses you out. Of what would happen if you voiced your little dream to Yoongi, especially.

Was it out of the question or would he consider it?

Your leg jitters harder.

You want to tell him, badly. Seeing his friend in real life changed fucking everything. If you hadn’t, you would’ve forgotten about it in the days to come. Yoongi would’ve fucked it out of you in most probability. But those eyes… those eyes got under your skin.

“Stop fidgeting,” Yoongi scolds with his mouth full of food, no hint of slurring. The hot meal and hydration worked a miracle. “You’re making me nervous.”

He picks up two cut pieces of chicken with his chopsticks and stuffs your mouth, adding a few pieces of vegetables as you’re chewing. Watches you swallow it, noticing how your eyes are focused on nothing in particular on the other side of the room. Tucking his utensils under his palm, he places his hand on your thigh, halting your restless motion.

You still won’t look at him. Too lost in the overthinking maze, debating whether you should speak or remain quiet about your desire. A strong part of you fears his reaction and the other half is horrified at the possibility of being turned down—

Yoongi takes his hand away. Props it on his cheek.

“I can see your pussy from here,” he says, licking his lips. “You’ve shaved?”

You breathe a soft laugh, turning your head to face him, covering yourself with the small fabric. Dark, but tender eyes, void of any glossiness, awake and stirred—amused. Cheeks awash with color. Lips puffy, a dark tinge of red coating them. A sturdy fist on his cheek, the milky jawline underneath. That messy hair, the slicked-back look ruined by the constant rake of his fingers through them, now falling to the side from the middle. That slender body, clad in the night from head to toe—legs outstretched under the table. So fine, so delicious. A beautiful strong man—all yours. Why do you want another one?

You slide your leg across his thighs and Yoongi slouches in his seat, discarding his chopsticks.

“I shaved everything,” you respond, cocking your brow at him—a sly invitation for him to feel its smoothness.

And he does. Runs his hand up and down your skin. Goes as far as lifting your other leg onto his lap, cradling them both, thumb caressing your calf. The movement causes your robe to expose you again and, cursing the fabric, you go to cover yourself, but Yoongi stops you.

“Don’t bother,” he mutters. “I wanna look at it.”

You raise your brows altogether, looking up at him. “You wanna look at her?”

Yoongi smirks. That dangerous tug of one corner of his mouth to the side. Your death, your undoing, the root of your submission to him. “I want to have her at my disposal.”

You gulp and Yoongi catches it, chuckling. Drifts his hand down your calf, to your heel, to the middle of your foot up to your toes. He plays with your pinky. You note the fact he changed the pronoun after you did.

Your arousal returns at full speed.

“Did that make you wet?” Low, low is his voice—you feel it prodding at your core, thrumming vehemently.

You blossom like your roses, thoughts put to the side.

“I’ve been wet this entire time,” you say, zeroing in your gaze on the flick of dimness that whirls past his eyes. “For hours.”

He makes a sound of pitiful nature. “Poor baby.” Furrows his brows and juts his bottom lip out, making you weak. Lets his hand roam on your thigh. “So you listened? You didn’t touch yourself?”

You merely nod your head quickly. You were too distressed to give your body the pleasure it sought. Too busy flaring your lungs with the burn of smoke. And you respected his wish enough to keep your hands to yourself.

Yoongi coos. “Good girl.”

A flashback—your lips wrapping around your slick-coated finger, Yoongi praising you and… another pair of eyes watching. Chills spread across your arms, your stomach flipping. Thankfully, your shame is kept at bay. It relieves you.

“Can I feel how wet you are?”

A sweet, devious smile. “If you can manage to get to her.”

You press your thighs tightly together. Yoongi looks at you as if you’ve greatly offended him and alas, he turns your chair so you face him head-on. Forces your thighs apart without any strain at all—and there you feel it, the embarrassment of fucking with him, once your pussy is at complete disposal to him just like he wanted.

“If your pussy wasn’t so pretty, I’d make you regret your words,” he purrs, eyes fixed on your drenched flesh, hands pushing your thighs back until your knees are at level with your shoulders, folds parting with the movement, revealing more of you. Yoongi wets his mouth with his tongue.

He thumbs your gleaming lips back and forth, collecting your essence, mesmerized by them. Looks at you intently.

“It wouldn’t hurt to say sorry, though,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. “Would it?”

You grin at him. “Sorry, Yoongi.”

He rubs your swollen clit in slow circles, still with his bedewed thumb, still with his eyes on you. You choke out a moan at the delight permeating through your being. “That’s not the proper way to apologize, now is it?”

You lean your pelvis into his touch, a natural body reaction unfolding. He disapproves. You scrunch your face. “What should I say?”

Yoongi tuts. “I’m barely touching you and you already forgot your manners?”

The only answer you emit is an uncouth whine.

He shakes his head, putting pressure into his circles for a mere beat of time before he slaps your pussy curtly. A vivid spasm of pleasure fills you and you moan. “Needy girl. Don’t I take care of this pussy enough? What’s this behavior?”

Another whine. A roll of your body, asking for more of his touch. “Spank her again.”

A cock of his brow. Harsh, stern, evil. His hand remains propped on his thigh, shoulders hunched. “I didn’t hear you say please. You wanna be bad? You want me to make you cry?”

You know just how much he’s capable of doing that. You shake your head ‘no’. You want gentleness, the kind you saw in his friend’s eyes—

You flutter your own shut to get rid of that thought. Take a deep breath.

“Spank my pussy again, please.”

Yoongi massages the apex of your thigh, dangerously close to your cunt, squeezing the flesh every once in a while.

“Apologize first.”

“You didn’t tell me how.”

He clicks his tongue and pinches your folds and your clit between his fingers. You cry out, and then Yoongi gets up to his feet, leaning over you, propping his hand on the back of your chair. He begins to swiftly spank your pussy over and over again. You just jump at every contact, moaning, eyes flicked to his, never breaking apart. Taking it, taking it so well that Yoongi kisses you nastily, licking into your mouth. Then, he grunts. Fingers flat against your clit, he moves them from side to side. Roses, a myriad of them, flood your form with their freshness and dewiness, with their beauty and delectation and you shudder, you scream, you arch your back off of the backrest—

“Say, ‘I’m sorry, Yoongi. I’m such a bad girl that I deserve every spank and I’ll take it until it hurts.”

Flabbergasted and horny beyond measure, your mouth falls agape. Your brain turns into mush, the pleasure paralyzing you, your sounds now loud and obscene, the roses in you flitting, growing and murmuring. Yoongi adds more pressure to your clit and your eyes sink back into your head, his darkness wafting over to you, seeping into your skin—now completely yours.

You repeat after him—word for word. With a simper on your face that causes him to scowl at you, as if you dared to toy with your punishment he bestowed upon you. But then, a tongue prods the inside of his cheek and he laughs, taking a hold of his dominant role and making sure you know. He spanks your clit twice in a row, hands lifting to fondle your nipples.

“Good,” he praises. “You like that, don’t you? Spanks on your pussy?”

You don’t like that softness. Like the personified thunder he is, it is the calm before the storm. It unnerves you, the expectation of what might come next and your disliking of it. Nonetheless, you brim with the craving to have his fingers inside of you. Your hole clenches at that and Yoongi notices, hissing under his breath. The language of the darkness rises on your tongue and you figure that if you let loose, you’ll get your wish fulfilled.

“Yeah, it feels so good—” He pinches your nipples between his knuckles and you mewl, your lashes shaking at the impact, another set of wetness coating your folds. “Please, fuck me with your fi—”

You don’t even get to finish your sentence. Yoongi plunges his middle finger into your heat, cursing at your tightness, at how slippery you are and at the delight of being filled at last, you knit your brows. With his other finger, he traces the outline of your puckered mouth, his breathing hard and ragged.

“I’ll do anything for that pout of yours, fuck, no matter if you deserve it or not,” he utters, slipping the digit inside. Instinctively, you suck on it and only then does Yoongi begin to pump you slowly. “You just need a little roughness to be good, don’t you?”

Dumbly, you nod, swirling your tongue around him, but a faint, silenced part of you begs for the gentleness that you know hides somewhere deep inside his chest, never once unfurled during such intimate times.

You pay it no matter, too fucked out to think.

When he adds a second finger into your heat, he does the same thing with his other hand. Two fingers in your cunt, two fingers in your mouth. And he fucks you with both until you gag and a light flashes in his eyes—then, he withdraws all together, leaning against the table, his bedewed fingers coming to rest at his hardened length in his pants.

Roses, opening. Roses, sighing.

You breathe heavily, needing to finish, needing to have him in your mouth—

“You liked being the center of attention today?” he husks, surveying your whole body, bent in half.

There it is—the storm. Just what you expected. Cold sweat dribbles down your spine. And it is fear, what you feel, even when you refuse to admit it. Stiff, tempered fear that pervades each and every vein on your body, regarding being possibly degraded, being made feel dirty—regarding, even, tasting the dark wine of his wrath.

Such a stark, sudden change.

You don’t want this. You don’t want any of it.

Abruptly, an internal question comes and pokes you in the middle of your forehead.

Will you succumb to it or will you, with the wildly fresh darkness within you, fight against it?

You take a deep breath, and in with the air also follows, with the little rationality you have amidst the sensuality of your lecherous appetite, the decision to take a hold of it all. To take charge. Just like he did.

You shall prioritize yourself. Your feelings, your desires—your roses.

Your choice envelops your fear in bubble wrap. It doesn’t dissipate. And as much as it pains you, you take a mental note of that.

“I did,” you spit out, angered by the fact you’re afraid of your boyfriend, and so you stand your ground. “It made me so fucking needy and I want more.”

The relief that hits you almost causes you to weep and you lower your legs to the ground. Not wanting him to see the film of tears clouding your eyes, you avoid his gaze. Yoongi crosses his arms across his chest and clicks his tongue at you, disapproving.

“Keep your legs where they belong.”

“No.”

A lift of his brow. He crouches down to your level and cradles your face in his hand, forcing you to look at him. And there he sees, under the waterfall of your hair, your emotions at his disposal. Yoongi studies you, frowns at you and you want to sob, you want to go home. Shame slithers towards your spine like a ghost, and although it keeps a distance, you feel its presence prickling your back. You cover your cleavage.

“Why are you crying?” Yoongi asks, a silky murmur, eyes flicking between yours. His fingers don’t caress your skin; they merely hold you firmly, making dents in the skin.

You don’t trust that voice, dismayed by what might lie under.

“Why did you do that to me?” you ask in return, and it’s a blue fire shooting out, engulfing the room in stifling heat. You catch a glimpse of its sparks in the dimness of his eyes, of how he’s momentarily stricken by it before it folds beneath the shadows.

“You want to get fucked by someone else?”

A question for a question.

You swallow down the lump in your throat, caused by your frustration.

Your devotion to him didn’t let you go as far as to imagine being fucked by his friend while Yoongi watched, but the brief flash of it in your mind is enough incentive for the heat to spill into you, mingling with the darkness, turning you candescent, traveling through you until it finds your core—and there, it stays. There, it finds home.

The pulse on your clit returns, filling you with abrupt energy.

There’s something about him coming up with it that makes you unhinged, but you’re so utterly sick of the instability of your feelings. You need it to stop.

“And what if I do?” you retort. “What will you do?”

Truthfulness, at last.

Yoongi takes in a sharp inhale of breath, and that is the only reaction you receive from him. Nothing else on his face flickers; no wrath, no sliver of jealousy, not one thing. You stare at an empty canvas, ready for you to paint on. And you simply decide that you want to start.

You push his hand away from your face. Stand up to your feet. But the hardened look he gives you inclines you to sit back down.

You fight against it.

Untangling the knot on your robe, you let him see your bare femininity. The perkiness of your breasts, the long dip of your stomach that he likes to pepper kisses on. Yes, you’re aiming for his weakness.

And you decide to repeat history.

You reach your hand down, lower and lower while he stares you down, and you collect your glimmering essence. Sinking your finger into your mouth, you make a show of rolling your eyes back and moaning faintly, softly. Your other hand, in the meantime, unbuttons his pants.

The breath Yoongi inhaled hitches in his throat.

“Is this not evidence enough?” you purr, dragging down his zipper. “How else am I supposed to show you?”

You pull his manhood out as you suck on your finger, all while maintaining eye contact. You don’t touch him beyond that. In fact, you withdraw your hand altogether.

And then, you collect your essence again.

This time, you smear it across his bottom lip. Yoongi lets you. Your heart thuds, threatening to jump out of your chest.

“Your actions during the video call told me everything,” you whisper, catching the sliver of wooziness scattering along his narrowed eyes. “And I think you liked it more than me—the thought of sharing me. You can’t hide it. Not when I saw it.”

Yoongi growls. Then, he surprises you.

He parts his lips for you.

And the contact of the pad of your finger with his wet tongue coaxes a string of your dewiness to drip down the side of your thigh. You moan for him. Relieved, fucked up, woozy just the same. Finally, finally, finally.

You’re in charge. And it feels divine.

His length twitches against the fabric of his T-shirt. Long, hard, drooling. Such a delight for you—and so you continue.

“I also think it made you hard. Not just because you called me when I was touching myself, but because your friend was right there beside you,” you purr, your voice a seductive sound of silk—leading him to wrap his lips around your digit. You moan for him, showing him how much you like that. “Isn’t that right, baby?” Your walls clench at the pet name, solely due to the fact that these soft terms of endearment have always been addressed to you, never the other way around. It thrills you. “I’d always be devoted to you, even if he fucked me. I’d look at you the entire time. If that’s what you want. I had a different idea, but yours is just—” you pause, and again you make a show of sighing and rolling your eyes back, “better.”

A straight hit to his core. A glee for you.

But you don’t realize how much you fucked up until Yoongi grips your waist and the hold hurts enough that you wince.

And then—then he manhandles you.

Lifting you and laying you down on the table, Yoongi spreads your legs. Watches you drip, watches as the satiny fabric follows the movement of your limbs and reveals you in all your entirety. He pulls you closer to him with a sharp tug until you collide with the tops of his thighs. Bends over you. Hovers his lips above yours. You expect him to kiss you—he even angles his head and rubs the side of his nose against yours—but he never does.

He only leaves you waiting. Leaves you submitted to your empty expectations, taking charge, taking his control back from you. You shiver in anticipation, reaching for him, however he pins your hands down on either side of you. An angel in a rose garden.

Yoongi chuckles, darkly, his teeth glinting in the yellow light. You fight against his hold, hips rolling against the underside of his length, beckoning him to do something, anything. You merely manage to prolong the thunder of his laughter.

“One cock isn’t enough for her, so baby wants two,” he spits. That smirk, the crinkles around his eyes—he’s enjoying this. The hint of degradation doesn’t reflect what’s swarming inside of him, doesn’t reflect the face of pleasure coursing down his body. You smile and he scoffs. “I have enough friends for you to choose from in case you want more. I think you’d be stellar at taking three cocks. Four, even, huh? Would you have enough then? One in your tight little virgin ass, two in your cunt, one down your throat?”

You gulp, frozen, eyes widening.

Yoongi bites his shiny lips, nudging the tip of his nose against yours. Kisses you once. Begins to rock his hips, his length sliding across your wet fleshiness. The moan that escapes your throat trembles with each delicious motion.

“You watch too much porn, honey,” he coos, giving you tiny kisses on the mouth. “I’d kill anyone who would come near this pussy. And I’d kill Jungkook, too, if he so much as glanced at her.”

So that’s his name. You mewl, knitting your brows. That’s his pretty name. The entirety of your form shivers at the discovery, at the pleasure given to your throbbing clit.

Yoongi pulls back, setting your hands free.

You prop your elbows on the table, pouting. Yoongi grasps his length, spreads his arousal and begins to jerk himself off.

“You’re not fucking Jungkook. You’re mine.” He groans, squeezing his tip; your hole clenches. “Rub your clit.”

Like him, you spread your arousal on your seashell, the arousal long caused by his presence and now the mention of his name—the reason behind your frustration and his, the reason why you’re spread on the dining table, why your boyfriend is hard. You rub your clit from side to side, amused.

“No,” Yoongi disapproves, knowing you do the motion when you want to prolong the build-up. “Circles. Make yourself come.”

You change direction, obeying him. A sly grin blossoms on your lips, dark eyes looking up into his, permeating them, permeating into his soul. You pick up the pace, moaning into your expression of elation.

“Jungkook is such a pretty name,” you provoke and you heighten your sounds in volume and intensity just to piss him off, just to have your way.

A grunt escapes him, matching your pace. He wraps his fingers around your throat and squeezes. You hum.

“A pretty name to moan in my opinion.” A layer of sweat coats your body. Yoongi grasps your jawline firmly and your satisfied laughter inches you closer to your orgasm. You feel the hot flashes, roses surrounding you—its tender petals grazing your feverish skin. You give in, watching Yoongi do the same, his mouth in a tight line, hissing and sizzling, an open fire, an open fire you want to be radiated by, burned whole by. “Just imagine him here, watching us. Oh my god, imagine him knowing he’s the reason why you and I are doing this.”

Yoongi has had enough.

He pushes you down harshly. Fills your hole to the hilt without letting you adjust, observing himself disappearing inside of you and begins to pound you into the table. The sound of skin slapping, the hard and quick strokes, the ravaged grunts he lets out, the fast change—it all takes your breath away, so much that you can’t, in fact, breathe. He grabs your face and makes you look at him. The dead of the night captured in his features, you absorb it, whining like the brat you are onto his mouth, mingling into your noises your approval, your yes’.

Swallowing it, he kisses you, keeping his eyes open. “He could never fuck you like this.”

You laugh. He swallows that, too, moaning. “What if he could?”

He taps you on the cheek, a warning, giving you an exceptionally hard stroke that causes you to scream. He pauses. Does it again. Over and over—and your screams echo across the room, your own soul slipping out of your body. Petals flutter against you and you’re done for, hanging off the edge. You’re close, so terribly close. Your eyesight blurs and Yoongi pulls out entirely and rams into you. Again and again, abusing your cervix.

You moan his name, gone—entirely gone.

“Yes, moan my name like that. Just mine,” he mutters. “Who’s fucking you this good? Who’s gonna make you come?”

He rams into you more rapidly than before. Your senses leave you until all that you know is Yoongi. His name, his scent, the wholeness of the night encompassing him.

“You, Yoongi, you. Fuck, I—”

Yoongi laughs maniacally. “Yes, that’s right. That’s my good girl.”

He rolls his hips, slowing down the coming of your orgasm, owning you. Lets your senses come back to you momentarily. You swallow, your throat dry and you blink, dazed still. Yoongi kisses you, giving you all that he took from you.

“Who’s only capable of fucking you like this, honey, hm?” he asks, his voice tender and sing-song. “My pretty honey, so fucked out. So out of it.”

You whine and you don’t control what comes out of you, your body answering for you. “You, Yoongi. You’re fucking me so—so good. I can’t—fuck. You’re the only one.”

He smiles down at you fondly, kissing your nose, then your lips, parting your mouth and swirling his tongue around yours briefly. Then he withdraws, begins to fuck you again, slowly, reaching to the side for something.

Once you see his phone in his hand, your heart stops. And when he puts the device to his ear, your throat dries up even more. You suddenly become aware of the silence all around, especially in your chest. You can’t breathe, you can’t blink—

Yoongi jackhammers into you, purposefully luring your loud noises out of you. “My girlfriend wants to fuck you.”

You gasp, squeezing your eyes shut, the suddenness, the quickness of pleasure you haven’t yet felt piercing you. Fuck hot flashes and petals, you feel a heavy urge of your orgasm closing down on you.

“She’s so desperate for you, even when I’m fucking the life out of her.”

You flutter your eyes open to see Yoongi surveying you. You scrunch your face—so close, so fucking close—and then he puts the phone to your ear. Breathing, hard, ragged breathing fills all of your senses and you come.

It’s an explosion. Roses bursting, their dew soaking you and Yoongi whole and you exit. You exit out of this situation, this world, this universe while your soul remains here with them. Vibrancy, colors so beautiful and sensations so vivid, ardent and fierce. You don’t know what it is you’re feeling or where you are. That is, until Yoongi’s voice yanks you back to planet Earth, back into this world, this situation—back to them.

“In fact, she just came for you. Squirted.”

You sob. Overstimulated, rhapsodic, but effulgent. Yes, you emit light and glow. You can see it in Yoongi’s softened eyes.

“Think about it. No pressure. Just know she won’t shut up about you. I recall her saying your name would be pretty to moan while she played with her pussy. I think it’s only right you fuck it out of her.”

With that, he hangs up.

You brim with so many emotions that it numbs you. Happy tears flow out of your tear ducts—and happily, endearingly, Yoongi chortles. You don’t even feel humiliation or shame. On the contrary, you’re ready to come again.

Yoongi kisses you and the sounds he slips into your mouth divulge how happy he is about this, how pleased he is with himself.

You pout, burning your eyesight into his. He begins to rut into you.

“What, you’re not even gonna thank me?” he says, grinning, as if he wasn’t fucking you at all, as if you two were still sitting at the dinner table, conversing.

You stammer, head empty, silencing yourself and trying again. “What—what made you change your mind?”

Yoongi places open-mouthed, wet kisses along the bone of your jaw, and there he seals his answer. “I made up my mind the moment you admitted you wanted to be fucked by him, but you wouldn’t shut up about him. I wanted to hear you babble for me. About me. I just had to mess you up to get to that point.”

You mewl, running your hands through his sweat-slicked hair. Like a cat, he perks up to your touch, lifting his head, angling it. He kisses you, deeply. Kisses your relief.

“Where are your manners, hm?” he whispers onto your mouth, giving you hard strokes that erase your vocabulary. You want to make him come and so you push against his thrusts, but to no avail. The intensity won’t allow you.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you murmur, cradling his face, pecking him, giving him the softest eyes you could muster so you can show him how much it means to you.

He approves of your effort on bettering your manners and to reward you, he lifts you up and fucks you in the air. Your breasts bounce against the material of his T-shirt, stimulating you and he alters between jackhammering into you and sliding you up and down on his length. Your pussy squelches around his girth, tightening and Yoongi—

Yoongi loses his mind.

And it’s him who begins to babble when you snap your hips down on him in circles.

“Just like that, honey, oh fuck. So good, so good for me.”

He takes it until his sounds grow in volume and you focus so much on his pleasure that you forget about yours.

But you don’t let him take charge.

“Let me fuck you, please, Yoongi. I wanna make you come.”

Just like you, he’s out of it and because of that, because you asked so nicely, he lets you.

His chest heaves, staccatos of his choked out breaths sail through the room and you can see it on his face that he’s close. Brows furrowed, bottom lip bleeding due to the way he bites hard on it, the way his mouth pops open and his eyes flutter closed.

You hold onto his neck with your dear life.

“Look at me,” you demand and swirl your hips in slow circles around his tip. “I want you to look at me when you come.”

You’re so stunned that he allows you to be in charge, even more when he truly does open his eyes and pierces his gaze into yours.

“I need to pull out,” he breathes, but you shake your head, snapping your hips down on him harshly.

“No, I want your cum in me. And I want it to be inside of me when Jungkook fucks me.”

Yoongi grunts and this is it for him. His cock twitches in you, over and over again and then you feel it—the hot, thick ropes of his cum stuffing you full. You’re so mesmerized by the feeling, by the blissfulness evident on his face, by the smoothness between his brows at last that you can’t even milk him dry. You’re frozen, stupefied by his beauty, by his personal rapture and you want to feel it in unity with him. You kiss him.

It’s him who fucks him cum into you, burying it deep, moaning into your lip lock.

It’s him who lays you down to your original position and briefly, feebly licks the sheen on your spread lips before devouring your clit.

It’s him who gives you the fastest orgasm of your life.

And it’s him who tells you—in the shower—the story of how he almost beat up Jungkook black and blue once he heard him say how pretty you are.

And it’s you who checks up on him.

“You sure you’re okay with this?”

You’re stroking his hair in the bed, the duvet heavy and warm around your body and his, the night overflowing into morning—Yoongi, too.

He’s falling asleep, but still conscious, still here with you, purring.

“I wouldn’t be waking him up in the middle of the night if I wasn’t,” he whispers, opening his eyes to look at you, to see you enveloped in the extra blanket of the dawn’s rosy light—glowing, throwing the sun off of its throne. “Poor guy just got out of the military and you’ve already rocked his world.”

You smile, fondly, thumb caressing his temple. Yoongi hums in appreciation.

“I’m happy for him he’s getting pussy—one that’s mine. Before he enlisted, he spent all his time painting and getting drunk alone,” he pauses in a thought, blinking at the light. “You still want this?”

You nod, settling into his chest. Yoongi pulls you closer, tucking the duvet into the lines of your form, bringing in comfort and sleepiness.

“I’ll make sure you have the time of your life. I’ll be here the whole time, taking care of you,” he promises against your hair and you squeeze him.

“He hasn’t said yes, though. He could turn me down.”

“I’ve seen the way he looked at you. You have nothing to fear. He’ll come to you like a puppy.”

Yoongi sinks the promise onto the plane of your forehead and holds you as you drift to sleep. Happy, relieved, steamed off of all the negative things you went through. It evaporates into the dawn—far, far away from you.

BACK to masterlist / READ part two

1K notes · View notes

tunafruitt · 3 months

Text

--> ||❝ The Creator has a.. LOVER?! ❞

SAGAU || Warnings: fluff, gender neutral reader

[ The people of Teyvat find out their grace has been romantically involved with someone for a while now.. what do they think about it? ]

Character(s): NEUVILLETTE, ZHONGLI

-> [ NEUVILLETTE ]

“Oh, the Iudex of Fontaine is the creator’s chosen suitor? Okay.. He’s a qualified and accomplished man. I can see why the creator chose someone like him.”

With the one and only hydro dragon sovereign stuck to your side at all times, it was no surprise to anyone that the two of you had gotten close. But the creator falling in love with him?? That’s different.

Of course, the people of Teyvat had all wished to have a chance with you. And of course, everyone knew it was impossible… but hope is a good thing right? They knew the day would come though, just not so soon..

When the people found out that the Creator had someone they loved more than the usual “I love all of Teyvat equally and platonically.” EVERYONE WENT CRAZY. What do you mean the creator has a LOVER? What do you mean they’ve probably kissed. WHAT DO YOU MEAN ITS THE IUDEX OF FONTAINE????

Nevertheless, no one was actually disappointed. They had heard you talk about him through the screen even before you descended to Teyvat. They were glad you were happy… I guess (though they wish it was with them.) Fontaine obviously took pride in having the creator spend a lot of their time residing there, even more pride in the fact that you were romantically involved with a citizen of Fontaine.

─━━ ꯭ ───ׂ─ִ─ ͜͡✿͜͡ ─ִ──ׂ── ꯭ ━━ִ─

Neuvillette wasn’t quite sure how to react to all of the publicity the news had gotten. Every time the two of you go out together he feels the stares coming from the people around you. The stares weren’t the usual stares he got when he was doing a court trial.. they felt new to him. He was glad that he was at least able to say more affectionate words to you out in public though!

“Monsieur Neuvillette! I’ve heard the recent news.. haha.. so, how’s it being with the Creator? Bet you feel real lucky, huh.“

“I would consider myself lucky to be with Y/N. I feel that no amount of love give—“

“Y/N???? I-I MEAN— YOU’RE ON A FIRST NAME BASIS WITH YOUR GRACE?!”

“I am. Now, if I may continue…”

When he’s not actively working and someone asks him about you, he could yap about you for HOURS. So much to the point people avoid bringing you up even in non-professional events. He’s literally lovestruck. Heart eyes when he looks at you and everything. (everyone’s secretly side-eyeing him… out of jealousy.)

-> [ ZHONGLI ]

“Hm.. The Wangsheng Funeral Consultant..? He is quite a handsome man, but is that all? Of course we respect him! It’s just that.. I expected the Creator’s suitor to be an Archon or something. But if that’s what the creator wants, we should respect their choice right?”

The people of Liyue had begun to put the pieces together. No wonder you were always visiting the Funeral Parlor.. wait, were the times that the both of you were spotted together at Iron Tongue Tian’s Stall listening to the telling of old stories.. DATES?? How could they have only just now realized…

Well, now that the news is out at least you can comfortably hold his hand outside of the Parlor! Not everyone is completely happy with this though.. Who might that be? The other archons of course! They all took pride in being among some of the closest beings in Teyvat to you, but now that they weren’t all equally close to you, feelings of jealousy began to rise.

Zhongli secretly felt smug about that though. I mean, of course anyone would. Being the Creator’s lover is probably the biggest flex in all of Teyvat!! Only certain people are able to even be close to the Creator, not to mention TOUCH them. (which are the playable characters.) Oh, and doing affectionate things like lovers do WITH THE CREATOR?? The things people would do to be in Zhongli’s place.

─━━ ꯭ ───ׂ─ִ─ ͜͡✿͜͡ ─ִ──ׂ── ꯭ ━━ִ─

You and Zhongli were taking a walk in the city of Liyue as you always do. There was a cool breeze and the orange lights coming from the food stalls gave the atmosphere a comfortable, warm feeling. You looked back at Zhongli who had already been staring at you. He’s about to put his arms around you when out of nowhere—

“Your Grace! Fancy seeing you here.. ehe. Are you here for the Lantern Rite? Oh! You should come to the Windblume Festival again! We’ll make sure to make it extraaa special, just for you. Speaking of special— There’s a new wine back in Mondstadt made specially from the freshest dandelio—“

“Hello, Venti.”

“Oh. Hello Mr. Zhongli. Are you busy right now? If not, the Funeral Parlor is calling for you. You should probably go.”

“The Funeral Parlor is closed today, Venti.”

lmao archons actively trying to get you to spend time with them instead of Zhongli. (They can’t stand to see you hugging, holding hands, and doing all kinds of sappy activities with him)

AGHHH SECOND WRITING EVER!! Had fun ^_^ might do a part 2 with Itto and Xiao (or other characters) feel free to leave recommendations for any other characters!! Likes nd reblogs are much appreciated ^_^

#genshin impact #sagau #neuvillette #zhongli #neuvilette x reader #zhongli x reader #x reader #gender neutral reader #sagau x reader #yandere #genshin #yayyy

1K notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

employeerights

Untitled

waycoolvibes

Embrace the cool :Immerse yoursefl in a world of cool vibes and

idontwikeit

Like A Boat Into Oblivion

celestialgirlaf

raul-rvl

RAULRVL