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l1tw1ck · 6 months

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Newlyweds

bottom!ftm Miguel x top!male reader

🕷️Word Count: 1,947🕷️

[Part One] | AFAB Language Used

CW: Menstruation (No Period Sex), Lingerie, Dom/Sub, Daddy Kink, Cunnilingus, Squirting, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Impregnating, Mating Press, Lactation Mention, Praise Kink

Miguel wakes up with pain. A lot of pain. Along with discomfort and the familiar feeling and smell of blood. Of course he starts his period unexpectedly in your bed. Not only that but he has cramps and a hangover. Great way to start the morning. He hopes you at least have advil. He taps your shoulder and wakes you up.

“What's wrong?” You ask, noticing that it's still pretty early in the morning.

“I’m on my period.” He frowns. “Sorry…about your sheets.”

“Don't apologize, it's not your fault. Do you need anything? Food, meds, something hot?” You get out of the bed. Miguel shakily gets out as well.

“A shower would be nice…and some ibuprofen? Or advil?”

“No problem. Luckily for you, I have some pads or tampons you can use. I keep them for when family visits. Do you use a heating pad? I have one of those too.”

“Yeah, a heating pad would be helpful.” He nods. “I prefer pads.”

“Okay, go ahead and get in the shower, I’ll leave some clothes out for you to wear. Oh, and you’ll need to eat something too. Is there anything you prefer?”

“Whatever you can make is fine.”

“Alright, I'll get everything you need. Take as long as you want in the shower.”

.....

Miguel gets out of the shower and walks into your room. The bed is stripped and the bloody parts are being soaked in a cleaning mixture. He hopes he didn't ruin your mattress. He looks at the pair of boxers you left for him and frowns. It's no surprise that you don't have any panties, why would you? But wearing pads with boxers isn't very….safe. It's a good thing the two of you are neighbors, he’ll have to ask you to get him a pair of underwear. He pulls up the boxers half way and applies the pad, praying that it’ll do the job, and pulls it up completely. He puts on your shirt, happy that it's big on him, and puts on the pair of shorts.

He walks down the stairs and into the kitchen. “Hey..”

“Hey! There’s the meds.” You point to the bottle of ibuprofen and cup of water next to it. “I’m making pancakes. How do you like ‘em?”

“With butter and syrup.” Miguel looks at the medicine bottle and concludes that he’ll thankfully only have to take one. He hates taking pain medication because of the risks but they're unbelievably helpful. He sighs, putting a pill in his mouth and swallowing it with water.

“...Hey, at least you're not pregnant yet.” You smile sheepishly.

Miguel chuckles. “We should probably start planning for when I actually am pregnant.”

“Yeah…I’ll have to start packing my things soon, right? I don't want Gabriella to have to worry about moving her stuff here.”

He appreciates how you consider his daughter too. “That’d be the best way.”

“At least we're neighbors, that’ll make the process much easier.”

“That reminds me…can you…can you go to my house and get me a pair of panties? They're specifically made for periods…I have a box of period stuff in my closet, you’ll know it when you see it. I’d go myself but-”

“Don't worry about it, babe. I’ll get it for you. After you eat, you can go lay down in the guest bedroom, I already put the heating pad in there. If you want, I’ll pick Gabi up and bring her here.”

“Please. Thank you so much.”

“Of course.” You kiss his forehead.

Gabi walks up to your car, confused. “Why are you picking me up?”

“Your dad’s feeling sick so he asked me to come get you.”

“Oh. Is papá okay?”

“Yeah, he's fine. He’s just on his period.” You nod. “Come on, get in.”

Gabriella grimaces, feeling bad for her dad. She gets into the backseat and buckles her seatbelt.

“So…What do you think about coming to my place and eating dinner with me and your dad?”

Gabriella grins. “Are you gonna cook?”

“Of course! Whatever you want.”

“Then…Can you make burgers? I haven't had a burger in soo long! Papá sucks at cooking and he thinks fast food burgers are made of rat meat!”

You laugh. “Sure thing. What kind of burger? And do you want fries too? I can make ‘em from scratch.”

Her eyes widen. “Really? I love fries! And I really wanna try a bacon cheeseburger!”

“You got it, Gabi.”

“You’re so good at cooking! I wish Papà could cook like you.” Gabriella wipes her face clean.

“Hey! I can cook just fine, Gabi!”

“Then how come we had to order takeout the other night because you made green goop?”

“Green goop?” You look at Miguel, grinning.

“It was supposed to be green, okay?!”

“Mhm~” You hum in a sarcastic tone. “Maybe I need to save Gabi from your horrible cooking.”

“Please! You guys should get married. Then you can cook us dinner all the time!”

You look at Miguel.

Miguel looks at you and nods. “Well…Actually, mija…”

She looks at him curiously.

“We are getting married.” He can't hide his happiness.

Her entire face lights up. “Really?!” She puts her game down and stands up. “Am I really gonna get an hermanito now?!”

“Yes, mija.” Miguel chuckles.

“When are you gonna order them?!”

“...Order?” You raise an eyebrow.

“You know, go to the stork postal service and order a baby!”

You and Miguel look at her, dumbfounded.

“What?” She frowns.

“Mija…We need to teach you where babies really come from..”

After the horrifying explanation (which was actually very tame compared to the talk Miguel’s parents gave him), Gabriella accepted the fact that babies are in fact not delivered by storks. Miguel doesn't even know where she got that from.

Now she's started to see you as the second father you’ll soon become. Rather than using your name, she calls you dad. It makes you happy to know she's so accepting of you as her father. She invites you to her soccer games and school events and of course you show up to everything you can. She loves that she has two parents. It's so comforting to see the two of you in the bleachers while she's playing. And now it's a lot less likely for her to be alone at events. If Miguel’s working, you usually show up and vice versa.

And of course she’ll be the maid of honor at your wedding. She’s almost more excited about the wedding than the two of you are.

Miguel walks down the aisle, holding a beautiful bouquet of red and blue roses. He looks gorgeous. You can't wait for your honeymoon.

He walks up to you and gets into place.

“You look beautiful.” You smile at him.

“Thank you..” He replies, bashful.

You’re lost in Miguel’s beauty for the entire ceremony, only paying attention to when it's time to exchange rings, say your vows, and say “I do.”

You go in to kiss Miguel, sad that you can only peck him on the lips. You don't want to traumatize all the children with a french kiss. You pick him up and carry him bridal style.

“Do you wanna stay?” You ask.

“I wanna make our baby.” He says.

You nod and start running towards the jet you rented. Everyone in the crowd watches in shock as you abandon the wedding. Miguel throws his bouquet and a ton of people scramble to grab it. Thankfully for you two, Gabriella is staying with her grandparents so you can escape to your honeymoon without worry.

Miguel walks out of the bathroom, dressed in a beautiful lingerie set. A red lacy bra and panties along with matching stockings with garters to hold them up.

You hurry over to him. “You look amazing.” You grope his ass and give him a soft kiss. “Lay down.”

Miguel gets onto the bed and lies down, waiting for your next move. You grab his thighs and kneel in front of the bed, pulling him close to you. There's a gap in his panties for easy access. You press kisses along his thighs, occasionally sucking and biting them. You move to his pussy, pressing a kiss against his erect t-dick. He twitches in response. You bring it into your mouth and swirl your tongue around it.

“Fu- fuck–” He moans, curling his toes. He throws his head back and gasps as you start sucking him off while simultaneously slipping two of your fingers inside him. Miguel arches his back, moans getting increasingly louder as you finger him. “God yes–” He grins. “‘M gonna come-”

You pull away from him, still working his insides with your fingers. “What do you say, Miguel?”

“Pl- please~ please let me come, Daddy~”

“Good boy.” You go back to sucking on his dick. Miguel shakes as he squirts, drenching you in his pleasure. You lick up his slick before pulling away. “Tell me when you're ready.” You stand up and take your clothes off.

“I’m ready..” He moves backwards and spreads his folds with two of his fingers. “Please breed me, Daddy..”

You smirk. You climb onto the bed and align your length with his hole. Miguel watches intently as you slowly ease yourself inside him. The two of you watch as a bulge appears in his stomach the further you go in. “You're gorgeous, Miguel.” You run your hands up his body and grope his breasts. “You’ll let me get a taste once you start lactating, right?”

Miguel smiles. “Just a taste.”

You bring him into a deep kiss and inch yourself further inside him. Miguel gently moves his hips once he feels you bottom out, desperate to have you fuck him. You part from the kiss and move to his neck, lightly kissing his skin. “I love you.” You murmur before pulling away. You grab his legs and move him into a mating press. Miguel barely has time to process what you just did thanks to your sudden and rough thrusts. He grabs onto your shoulders, nails digging into your skin, and moans loudly as you properly breed his pussy. He can barely keep his eyes focused but just glimpsing upon your aroused expression makes his heart race even faster. It perfectly displays how much you love him and how good he's making you feel. He happily listens to your breathy words of praise and your low sounds of pleasure, falling deeper in love with you as the two of you completely tie yourselves together forever. He’s never been happier.

He already feels himself reaching his orgasm. “‘M clo- oh- close~!” He cries out. “Fuck-” He gasps, suddenly coming. He digs deeper into your skin when he feels you slow down. “Don’t- don’t you dare stop-” He almost growls at you. You take that as a warning and resume your previous pace. He manages to stay sane even as you continue to fuck his sensitive cunt, all for the sake of feeling you impregnate him. Just that is enough to give him strength to keep going.

“You're doing so- so good, Miguel.” You let out a low sound of pleasure. “Such a good boy for me..”

He moans happily.

“And you feel so fucking good..” Your breathing becomes more labored. “Making me come so fast with your tight pussy-” You groan, stopping as you fill him up with your first load of the night. He feels euphoric as your cum invades his insides.

“More…” He looks up at you with the cutest expression.

“I won't stop until I’m shooting blanks, baby.”

Miguel grins. He can't wait to spend the rest of his life with you and your kids.

#wicks🕯works #top male reader #male reader #dom male reader #miguel smut #miguel o'hara x reader #bottom miguel o'hara #miguel x male reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x male reader #across the spiderverse smut #across the spiderverse x male reader #🕯️miguel o'hara #🕯️marvel #🕯️spider man

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webslingingslasher · 1 year

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hey, i loveee your writings! i was wondering if you could write a fic or one shot of peter parker and reader getting into an argument based off of peter parker saying something to his friends behind readers back about reader that hurts her feelings? ending is up to you! thanks!

iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii dunno how i feel about this

You were many things.

Beautiful, talented, smart, caring, affectionate, loyal, honest, needy.

Needy.

Needy, needy, needy.

Needy, he called you needy.

Were you needy? You didn’t think so, but then again, would you be aware if you were?

Maybe he didn’t mean it, it was a private conversation. He could’ve been just venting, ranting about small things. You’ve done it before with your friends, it could be harmless.

But, god it hurt. It was so casual coming from his mouth, like it’s a common thought passing through his mind.

“Hi petey,” you said with a hum, he had just left yours to hang out with his friends when he called.

Silence drifted on the line.

“Petey?”

Shuffles, maybe a cough? Murmured voices, nothing too solid.

“Peter, you there?”

Laughs break through, you understand it was a buttdial.

You were about to hang up but Peter moved around, suddenly the voices were crystal clear.

“So, how is it with your girl, parker?”

You think it’s Mark.

It’s wrong to eavesdrop but if your partner accidentally called while they were about to talk about you, wouldn’t you listen, just for a second?

Notes from future self, don’t.

“Eh,” you imagine him rubbing at the back of his head, “good, good. It’s good.”

Good?

Good, that’s it?

Good?

You thought everything was great, wonderful in fact. When your friends ask about Peter you take your time on the soapbox preaching, he wants to end the conversation immediately.

Is that a good sign or a really bad sign?

“Just good? Don’t tell me she stopped putting out, I know how chicks are.”

“Don’t talk about her like that, Logan.”

Peter came to your defense, point one for parker.

On the other side of the line Logan holds his hands up in surrender, “didn’t mean to poke the bear there, parker. Get your girl to suck your dick, you’ll be fine.”

Next time you see Logan you’ll clobber him.

Peter grunts, he’s never liked Logan and neither did the friend group. But every group needed that one person that was mutually hated so there was always something to joke and talk about.

“She sucks my dick just fine, you sound jealous. I’m sure she’s got a friend that’ll pity fuck you.”

Your eyebrows furrow, Peter doesn’t talk like that. At least not around you, is this what the ‘saturday’s are for the boys’ boys mean when they say locker room talk?

Mark cuts back in, he lights up a joint.

“I’m sure parker is just fine, he can barely rip himself away from Y/N.” He coughs on the smoke between laughs, Peter stays quiet. He’s wondering if he should tell his friends this, it’s nothing serious and it didn’t really bother him, and he didn’t want to say anything to you because he knows you’d take offense and stop it; and he’d miss it way too much.

“Yeah, that’s kinda the problem.”

He mumbled it, but he said it and what the fuck did that mean?

You couldn’t stop now, you pray he doesn’t see you’re connected to the call.

“Trouble in paradise? Do tell.” Mark offers the joint to Peter, he accepts it and passes it to Logan.

“Sometimes I feel like she’s all over me and needs me for everything, I dunno.”

Peter tugs at his hair, he’s not saying it right.

“I think I feel like no matter how much I’m there it’s not enough, she’s so needy.”

Gut punch. You took such a sharp inhale you have to stop breathing to make sure Peter didn’t pick up on it. You’re reeling trying to look at it from his side, you didn’t seem needy, but everyone’s idea of needy must be different.

Sure, you do try to extend his visits for as long as possible but that’s because some weeks you feel like you don’t see him but for a few hours and you’re willing to scrape up as much time as possible. And because you love him. And sure, there have been times you ask him to do things or help you but you love watching him fix things around your apartment and have him take extra time to dote on you. And because you love him.

You want to hang up, you don’t want to know why he thinks you’re needy. If you do then you’ll spiral and question everything you do from here on out.

On Peter’s end he pulled his phone out to check to see the time, and if you’ve texted. His eyes widen at the screen, he feels like he stopped breathing before he whispered a “fuck” under his breath, he looked at the screen and tried to pretend it wasn’t real.

It was. Bold and in his face, your saved name and small lettering below it, ‘call connected’ you’ve been on the line for six minutes. You heard absolutely everything, in a panic he hung up the call which was the worst thing he could’ve done, because now you know he knows, and suddenly you realized that if he thought you were needy you’d show him you weren’t.

—----------------------------------

There is no surprise your boyfriend is pounding on the door.

Not loudly, but constant and quickly, demanding to not be ignored.

Like his four missed calls.

After two straight minutes of his rapping you finally swung the door open, waiting for him to bombard you with reason and apologies. He looked surprised. Peter opens and closes his mouth, he doesn’t know what to say exactly.

Your eyebrow raises at his silence, “you had forty minutes, four missed calls, seven ignored texts, banged on my door for two minutes, and in all that time you didn’t think of one thing to say?”

“I’m sorry?” He looks sheepish, he gave a tiny shrug. Hoping you’ll find him cute enough to be let off the hook, like a kid with cookie crumbs around his mouth claiming he didn’t know who ate them.

You run your tongue over your teeth and click them, “yeah, no.” You try to swing the door shut and he foot catches it.

“Baby,” he catches your eyes, his own look wet and sad. He looked remorseful for his words but didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

You know what you want to say, you want to tell him that it hurt your feelings, that you didn’t know you were being that way, why he didn’t tell you, why he felt that way, a million things ran through your mind.

But that would make him right. Needy about answers, about why he would think that. That would prove him right, and you weren’t needy, you didn’t think you were but anything he might deem as needy wouldn’t be done anymore.

“It’s okay.”

Peter pulls his head back, he’s unsure if you know what you said.

“It’s…okay?”

You nod, “yeah, sure, I understand, you were just venting, and I shouldn’t have been listening.”

“But that doesn’t make it okay, because if you did that to me I’d be hurt.”

But I wouldn’t do that, I only praise you around my friends.

“Yeah, well, fuck around and find out, you know.”

It feels off, this is why Peter didn’t want to tell you anything. He knew you’d pull away from him, you already are.

“Wanna watch a movie? I heard there’s -” he tries to move around your shoulder to come in but you move to block him entirely. He looks at you half confused, half offended.

You didn’t need him. He had plans with his friends and you weren’t about to prove them all right and have Peter come running back to you, like he always does, and try to fix things.

This time Peter wouldn’t fix things, you were. It was clear what he didn’t like, so you’ll stop doing it.

“Don’t you have plans tonight?”

Peter snorts, “since when do you care? You always beg me to stay with you anyways.”

Is that one? One of the things that made him think you were needy?

Not tonight.

“I won’t beg tonight then, go have fun.”

Peter regrets everything about the past two hours, he should’ve stayed when you asked the first time.

“I have more fun with you, lemme in.” Peter tried to push past but you were adamant he leaves.

“Go smoke some weed with Mark, come back when you have the munchies. I’ll make cookies.”

Peter shakes his head, “I don’t wanna hang out with them right now, I want to hang out with you.” He tries to move past you for the third time, you put a hand on his chest to push him back.

“No you don’t. You feel guilty and want to prove something to me or yourself or whatever, and I don’t need Logan thinking if you don’t grovel at my feet then I’ll stop sucking your dick.”

Peter jumps in immediately, “that was fucked up, and I know I said some shitty things too but I didn’t want him thinking I wasn’t getting laid.” His eyes blow up, he moves his hands around, “not that that matters! Cause I’d love you no matter how much we had sex, but we are having sex and he-”

You hold up a hand to stop him, “I don’t know where you think that’s going but it’s nowhere good. You’re just digging a deeper hole.”

Peter’s voice is panicked, “there’s a hole?”

You sigh and clasp your hands, you point them at his chest.

“I’m not mad and I don’t need you here, I also don’t need you trying to make a point about not meaning it. You said it and you meant it, don’t lie to my face. Either man up or go back to your friends.”

You were right, this is going nowhere good and Peter knows it.

“This shouldn’t be a fight, right?”

You shrug, “I dunno.”

Peter pleads with you, he wants anything, something he can work off of.

“I’m sorry, I really am.” He reaches for your hands and you let him hold them, he rubs his thumbs over the back of your hands.

“Are you sorry you said it or sorry you got caught?”

Peter doesn’t know how to respond yet, he doesn’t know how to be honest without offending you and he doesn’t want one thing to change.

“I just….” He groans and tilts his head back, “can I please come inside?”

You take him in and decide it’s okay for him to enter, your head looks at your roommates door to make sure it’s still closed.

Peter flops on the couch and slaps the coffee table, you take a seat where he called and waited.

“You’re not needy. Not at all, and don’t think I’m just saying that because I think that’s what you want to hear. Needy is the wrong word, it makes you seem annoying or unbearable and I promise you’re my most favorite person in the world, so it’s not that.”

You whisper your words, your thumbnail being nibbled on.

“So what did you mean?”

“I don’t even know!” Peter stresses his point, you can see how upset he is, that he not only said it, but couldn’t place it.

“I just think maybe,” he groans, he doesn’t like being vulnerable. He’s the strong one in the relationship, it wasn’t very manly to cry over loving your girlfriend too much.

Peter rubs at his cheek and shrugs, “I don’t know.”

Your eyes narrow, “liar.”

Peter folds his cards, the only thing he has to lose here is you, and he will if he doesn’t be honest. But it’s a whole new level to him, a layer he’s about to peel back, one that isn’t so light and happy. It’s a side very few people have seen, he’s scared to show it to you.

“Can we talk?”

You look at him oddly, “we are?”

“Private.”

You’re confused but lead him to your bedroom. Peter didn’t know how to tell you he was about to cry, but when he did he didn’t want your roommate seeing it.

You wait for Peter’s lead when you reach your room, he pushes you towards your bed for you to take a seat, he stands between your legs and cups your face. Peter tilts your head up until he’s looking down into your eyes, he looks troubled. A small tired grin hugged his lips, “hi baby.”

“Hi, peter.” you whispered soft, his thumb brushed your bottom lip.

He takes in a deep breath like he’s remembered the task at hand.

“I’m about to tell you something I haven’t told anyone else, and it’s a different Peter than you’re used to.” Peter presses a kiss to your forehead and steps back, this time he takes a seat at your desk chair.

“I don’t think you're needy. I don’t even know what to say, cause like, fuck… I don’t, look, spider-man has a lot of people that need him, right? And he works hard all day and has no one to share it with, but I do. I get to tell you about my shit days, and you’ll patch me up and I’ll pretend to leave just so you can ask me to stay over, and honestly? It feels nice to have someone who needs Peter and not spider-man for once.”

You try to speak but he stops you, he looks like he’s about to cry.

“I look forward to it too much. I fucking sit here and play pretend, like it’s a chore to spend time with you, and you always ask me how I do it so good and I’m just so used to hiding it. I’m so used to hiding this lonely feeling, like nothing is enough, and then I had you.”

Peter shakes his head slowly, he wipes at his nose. Tears drop casually with every few blinks as he speaks, you want to hold him to you forever.

“I didn’t have to do anything because you did, you made all the decisions I wanted to in the first place. I love when you ask me to fix things, and when you want me to spend every second with you, when you want me to skip a night out, when you get me to stay over for the third night in a row.”

Peter wipes his eyes, he sniffs and breathes out shakily, this is what it’s about, right?

“Baby, you aren’t needy. I am.”

“And you projected that on me.” It wasn’t a question.

He laughs, a tear drips down his nose, he wipes it away.

“I’ve never felt so needed and wanted in my life, and I am so terrified I’ll fuck it up and lose it all.”

You’d never do that, if the relationship ends it won’t be on your terms.

Finally you stand and sit on his lap, he welcomes you and for the first time you notice how tight he’s always wanted to hold you, forever stuck in his grasp. You straighten the collar on his shirt and fix his hair, his eyes shiny from his tears.

“You could, you could fuck it all up and lose it.”

You press your forehead against his, “but I need you too much.”

#peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm! peter parker x reader #peter parker blurb #peter parker angst #tasm!peter x you #my writing

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cheolhub · 1 year

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DREAMS, FAIRYTALES, FANTASIES — CHOI YEONJUN + CHOI SOOBIN ࿐

summary. ever the unconventional gift giver, yeonjun would rather give you something memorable for valentine’s day. what better gift than his smoking hot best friend?

wc. 2.67k

warnings. threesome! oral (m. receiving), light degradation (use of slut & stupid), heavy praise, heavy pet name use (baby, pretty, princess), shy!soobin <3, needy f!reader, teasing dom!jun, unprotected sex, creampie, facial — MINORS DNI 18+

note. HAPPY VALENTINES DAY MY LOVES!! to everyone who voted in the poll for the yeonbinnie 3way, here it is ! i hope u enjoy it <3 kisses 4 u all 💋

p.s. reblogs and feedback are extremely appreciated— i also love to hear ur thoughts <3

most boyfriends get their significant others chocolates for valentine’s day. maybe jewelry or roses or even a nice book, but yeonjun isn’t like most boyfriends. no, yeonjun is unlike any other man you’ve ever dated. he doesn’t want to gift you flowers that would die within days or shitty chocolates that make your tummy hurt– no. yeonjun wants to grant you memorable experiences. ones that’ll make you happy. ones that you’ll definitely remember. he wants all your dreams and fantasies to come true.

so if not chocolate and flowers… what does yeonjun gift you?

his best friend. choi soobin.

he remembers the first time yeonjun introduced you to him and his other best friends vividly– like it was yesterday. to soobin, you were shy and so cute. just his type. but he started noticing small changes in your behavior every time he saw you.

he noticed the moment things took off in your relationship with yeonjun. he’d only ever observed from afar, but he could just tell yeonjun was becoming more and more intimate with you as the weeks past; he just knew his best friend was corrupting you, the sweet girl he’d so desperately craved. you had gone from innocently twiddling with your thumbs and blushing to showing small acts of public affection to not-so-quietly begging yeonjun to fuck you in the car away from the guys because you couldn’t handle being empty for longer than a few hours. you turned into such an insatiable little thing, all yeonjun’s doing, of course– soobin knew that for sure.

but yeonjun also noticed soobin’s desire from the get-go. soobin could barely hold eye contact with you and he’d blush every time you’d giggle or whine or tease– hell, you just needed to breathe in his direction and soobin’s all red in the face.

once yeonjun knew you were completely comfortable in your relationship, he started implementing things he knew you’d love. i.e. toys, degrading names, and other people. other people being none other than the choi soobin. the soobin he knows you drool over and ramble about from time to time. all he had to do was talk to you.

he did, and just as he suspected– you were all in. of course you were, he could tell from the second the question slipped his lips.

he’d asked you weeks prior to valentine’s day. honestly… you barely remember the conversation. blood quickly rushed to your head and core when he suggested adding him to the mix for just a night. you remember the way you bit back a moan at the thought of his tall, broad, undeniably handsome best friend fucking you with a cock you just knew was huge. you remember trying to mask how turned on you got at the idea of it all– the both of them at the same time– and ended up shifting in your seat, nearly grinding your wet cunt against your sofa. you remember yeonjun fucking you on the very same sofa not long after you agreed, calling you a needy slut for wanting two cocks and for nearly cumming untouched over the idea of soobin fucking you.

so, yes, the conversation was a blur, but you do remember agreeing.

you still found yourself very surprised when yeonjun showed up at your apartment on valentine’s day with soobin trailing awkwardly behind him.

“happy valentine’s day, princess,” yeonjun smiles beautifully and your heart flutters at his unbelievable charm. “brought soobin over since he was all alone, hope that’s okay?” he knew it was one hundred and ten percent okay, but he loves hearing your verbal responses. especially in times like these where he knows you’re needy and excited to be ravished by him– by him and soobin now.

soobin feels his pants tighten at the sight of you. he wonders if there’s anything under your hoodie. or if there’s anything past your cute little shorts. he thinks about the silky material being soaked by your folds. how wet you could be. how much prep it would take to fit inside your pussy and– god, what do you feel like? will you wrap around him like he’s dreamed? will you milk him for what he’s worth? fuck– he needs to stop. he’ll cum before you could even be within arm's length of him if he doesn’t.

“y-yeah…” you blush and soobin can’t help but think back to when he first met you and how you were acting the same way then. cute and shy. “hi, ‘binnie,” you walk up to him to give him a quick, friendly hug.

the height difference has his hard-on pressing into your tummy and his breath hitches, but so does yours. he’s fucking huge. in more ways than one. yeonjun just smiles while watching this unfold, his best friend and his girlfriend exchanging greetings… if they could even be called that.

he stuttered, looking down into your eyes, “h-hi.” you smell so fucking good to him.

“hi,” you parrot, mind forgetting that you already said that. you can’t seem to rid the memory of his cock though. even through his pants, you could feel the shape, the size, the perfection of it all.

yeonjun stifles a laugh and you quickly snap out of your thoughts and the mini-staring contest you didn’t realize you were having with him. “baby?”

your voice comes out thick, dry, “yeah?” you turn to see a cheeky smile spread across his face.

“you wanna go to your room ‘n wait for us?” he asks but you see in his face he’s not really asking, he’s telling you. you nod, padding over to your shared room to wait for the boys. your boys.

only then do you realize how lucky you are to have yeonjun and not only that but have him so willing to share you with his best friend of many years. then you realize again– you’re going to have both of them tonight. you’ll get to feel both of them filling you to the brim, stretching you out, making it work– making themselves fit like a glove.

you find that soobin is a soft kisser when they finally come into your room. quite the contrast from your playful lover. you start with a peck, barely letting your mouth open out of mere shyness, but gradually, the kiss gets more and more heated. his lips are plush as they glide against yours, tongue slipping into your eager mouth. he’s letting out tiny whines while he’s heavily breathing through his nose and you see that he’s just like you– someone who easily gets worked up by a little makeout session.

yeonjun smiles, watching the two of you. he grows harder in his jeans at the sight of you breaking out of your bashfulness and reverting back to your needy self as you are with him. with your arms wrapped around soobin’s neck, you move to straddle him and his large hands laid flat against your back, pulling you deeper into him.

when you finally break from the kiss and blush at your current position, noticing the way your half-covered cunt is just above his clothed bulge. your eyes quickly avert to yeonjun’s, silently asking if this was okay.

he comes to the edge of the bed where soobin sits, patting your head. “‘s all good, princess, want you to feel good, alright? make soobin feel good, too, he’s been dreaming ‘bout this a long time.” yeonjun outs soobin and he blushes furiously, sending his best friend an incredulous look.

your eyes come back to soobin, “you have?” you whisper, core aching at the thought. you’ve been dreaming about both of them for a long time, too.

he nods his head slowly, surely embarrassed.

you let out a sharp breath, rolling your hips against his. “i really want you to fuck me.” you murmur, dreamily sighing out your following words, “both of you.”

and that’s how you ended up in your current position on your knees with your ass raised in between yeonjun’s legs.

“don’t be so gentle, soobin, she can handle it,” yeonjun grunts, hands tangled in your hair, gently tugging at the strands between his fingers. “isn’t that right, beautiful?”

you hum, looking up at your handsome boyfriend through your wet lashes, attempting to nod your head. he looks so good back pressed against your headboard while you reside in between his legs, but you know he thinks the same of you, if not more. your mouth is full of his cock, hands splayed over the top of his thighs as your pretty, painted nails dig into the muscles causing a delicious sting for your masochistic yeonjun.

soobin was so nervous when you asked him to fuck you. not only fuck you but fuck you raw– promising all will be well with your overly needy and whiny voice. eventually, he couldn’t resist, the offer being too good to pass up.

you were drooling from the second he showed you his pretty, flushed cock to when he pushed into your tight, dripping hole to now. he’s taking yeonjun’s words into consideration before slamming into you harder much like he’s been deprived of pussy.

your face scrunches up in pleasure as you choke over your boyfriend's cock. said boyfriend moans out loudly, “that’s it, baby, is binnie making you feel good?”

you pull off him, gasping and eyes screwing shut, “yes! yes, binnie, you’re making me feel so good!” you praise soobin and his grip on your waist tightens.

yeonjun pushes you back onto his length, thrusting at a nice pace into your mouth concurrently muffling your moans and whines. his grip on your hair tightens and his eyes nearly roll back– your mouth is always so fucking good to him.

“such a perfect little slut, taking me ‘n soobin so well, baby– fuck, so so well.” he groans before looking to soobin. “tell her what a good girl she is, soobin.”

you clamp tightly at your lover's words, a high-pitched sound making its way out your mouth full of cock.

soobin’s hips stutter as he feels your gummy walls contract around him, enveloping him oh-so enticingly. “s-such a good girl, Y/N– so tight ‘n pretty,” he moans breathily, fueling your ego.

you nearly cum on the spot, digging your fingernails deeper into yeonjun’s crescent-marked thighs. you muffle out a ‘thank you’ body taking a mind of its own as you push your hips back desperately to meet his. you don’t forget about yeonjun either, letting your throat constrict around his long cock.

yeonjun notices how the praise spurs you on, “you just love being called pretty things, don’t you?” he chuckles airly, brushing your hair out of your face and admiring the way tear streaks coat your flushed cheeks.

“love it, junnie,” you say, taking a break from constantly gagging on your boyfriend's heaven-sent dick, replacing it with one of your hands instead. “love it s’much.”

“pretty girl,” he coos, thumb brushing against your swollen lips. “look so pretty taking it all for us.” his thumb slips past the pillowy muscle allowing your lips to warp around the digit. he basks in the way you moan, eyes trained on him. “shit, bet soobin wishes he could see you looking like a mess right now.”

soobin moans loudly at this because, god, yes, he would kill to see you right now. he would kill to see you in tears over getting fucked by him and his best friend. he would kill for the way your pussy is swallowing him whole and grasping onto him for dear life.

mindless and unaware, soobin’s thrust grew harder, pushing deeper, tickling that spot. he feels like he may burst any moment and then he hears yeonjun say his name, causing him to halt.

“‘s not fair that i’m the only one who gets to see her,” he says, a devilish smirk overtaking his features. his eyes divert back to yours, “on your back for him, baby, let him see what a pretty princess you are.”

you nod eagerly allowing your boyfriend to move out of the way so you can switch positions. your back hits the mattress and you finally take in soobin’s appearance. silky hair sticking to his forehead, pink lips swollen and parted, chest huffing– he looks like a dream.

he could say the same and more about you, though. he’s sure he’s gonna fall in love with you if he stares at you for a second longer, but he’s just so mesmerized by you that he can’t tear his eyes away. you’re more than a dream, more than a fantasy– you’re a fucking real-life princess.

“put it in me, ‘bin…” you whimper, nimble fingers moving to toy with your clit to avoid losing momentum. “please? wan’ it so bad, baby.”

soobin curses under his breath, the pet name making him twitch. now he knows he’s gonna fall in love with you. he knows it isn’t just because it’s valentine’s day.

he slips his bulbous head back into your soaked cunt, groaning when he feels you stretch to take him again. he’s gonna die, he knows it.

your eyes roll and your back arches with a whine leaving your lips. “‘binnie, ‘s so good, so so so good.”

yeonjun snickers, “stupid girl.” he pinches your nipples, rolling the perky nubs between his fingers while soobin fucks into you eagerly.

you gasp at the onslaught of pleasure, eyes screwed shut and a stream of moans and cries leave your mouth. to yeonjun’s surprise, you blindly grab at his cock, stroking it with your free hand.

“fuck, baby.” your boyfriend moans out when you squeeze the girth in your contrastingly small hand. “not too fast, shit.” his words are breathy and you just wish you could open your eyes to see how gorgeous his god-crafted face looks at this moment.

“wan’ you both to cum– fuck, please cum for me– ‘m so close.” you cry as soobin’s cock finds your sweet spot again, ramming against it with every stroke. “s-soobin! inside, please cum inside me!” you beg him, rubbing your clit faster and gripping him like a vice.

“pretty girl.” soobin whines the pet name out and you gasp, mind fuzzing over the sound of his voice and the cute name he’s called you. “shit, ‘m cumming.”

“f-fill me up!”

at this, soobin chokes, hips stilling as he feels himself cum. you’re suddenly filled with warmth and it practically triggers your own orgasm. the tightrope in your tummy unraveling as you coat his cock in your arousal, a near-silent scream leaving your mouth.

you lay there and he fucks you through his orgasm, the aftershocks leaving you shaking and shivering under the men as you languidly pump yeonjun’s still-hard cock.

“junnie,” you whine, teary eyes finally opening to see how he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you.

he grunts, “so fuckin’ cute, baby, my cute lil fucked out princess.” his rambling makes you realize he’s close just at the sight of you. he’s twitching and throbbing in your hands and you just smile nonchalantly.

“please cum on my face, baby.” you purr, regaining strength and pumping his wet length with more vigor. “make a mess on my face, junnie.”

he moans when you stick out your tongue expectantly, sitting up on his knees and replacing your hand. he comes faster than you think, breathily calling out your name and curses. his seed shoots across your face, some of it landing on your tongue and some landing on your chest.

the room is filled with soft pants as everyone tries to recollect themselves. after a few minutes pass, yeonjun pipes up.

“did you like your valentine’s gift, princess?” he asks with a smug grin.

you and soobin both laugh before you look between the two unbelievably handsome men and you give him the most honest answer you can conjure up.

“i loved it.” you whisper. “but i think it’s your turn to fuck me and soobin’s turn to watch.”

#txt smut #yeonjun smut #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun oneshot #soobin smut #soobin x reader #soobin oneshot

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gay-dorito-dust · 1 month

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We all know how loaded Bruce is, it’s a well known fact that he’s loaded to the high heavens.

So with that out of the way, when he sees your eyes lingering on something you’d like but don’t have to money for *cough* a £48/£58 plush *cough* Bruce will memorise the name of the store, the product you wanted and buy it on your behalf and have it sent to you under his name.

£48/£58 is mere pocket change to this man and will wave off any and all attempts you make in trying to gift him back for it. You wanted the plush and all he did was buy it for you, as to Bruce there was no need for you to go out of your way to repay him.

Just accept the plush and that’ll be all the repayment he’ll ever need. (He always when it comes to people trying to repay him for a simple act.)

Not use to tender, caring touches you’d give out that he kind of flinches away at first, holding his breath and all of his muscles stiffens upon reflex. However if you were to give him time, he’ll slowly begin to relax and unclench his jaw and relaxes his muscles as he releases a sigh while easing into your touch; practically putty in your hands as your thumbs caresses just under his eyes and across his darkening eye bags.

This man has never know a day of rest in his entire life. He firmly believes that Gotham is his responsibility 24/7 and feels partially responsible for how the town came to be the way it was. So showing him basic affection and kindness is kind of foreign to him, but he comes to greatly appreciate those aspects of yours and finds himself wanting more but never knowing how to ask.

Now just imagine this 6’2 man awkwardly scuffling next to you as he internally deducts the best possible way to ask you to hold him, all the while you could only become worried with how intently he was staring at your arms. You didn’t want to say anything because of the instance that you might be crossing a boundary of his, whereas Bruce was severely struggling in trying to get across his want for you to initiate the first move.

The air between you two being filled with a kind of awkwardness that didn’t make the situation any less stressful for the both of you either. However this gets better with time also, much like everything else did the longer you stay with Bruce.

Every Robin he’s ever had held a place in his old heart.

From dick all the way to Damian, each and every one of them were his soft spot, they were his kids and very much still are his kids despite being all grown up! So when Bruce sees you get along with any of them, it’s guaranteed to melt his heart seeing the people he cares for most in his life getting along. His dead set face may seem unchanged by the interaction but just know that internally he’s planning more situations where you’d get to interact with one or all of them.

And if you look close enough, you’ll be all to see the beginnings of a smile beginning to stretch across his face, destined to grow an inch bigger as he watched you interact with the rest of the family. Bruce would watch how you’d laugh and smile to whatever Dick was saying, how incredibly attentive you are with Damian and his artwork, and how understanding and thoughtful you were towards Jason and his reasonings and so on.

Bruce is a softy. A teddy bear if you will.

He’s not always a brooding dude, especially not when he was with you. He’d actually smile, chuckle and even make a rare joke from time to time.

You’re his personal pillow bc this man is severely allergic to proper sleep like the fucking insomniac that he is.

I wish I was joking but I’m not, you’re his personal pillow that helps aid him into a dreamless slumber but don’t be surprised at how tightly he’d hold onto you in his sleep.

Also he’s adamant in sleeping with his back towards the door and is also adamant that your back was pressed against the wall for protective reasonings. It didn’t matter that you’d often remind him that Wayne Manor was probably the safest place to be in Gotham, especially with all the securities put in place, but Bruce was adamant on the fact that your protection should come first even when sleeping.

He’s protective to an almost suffocating amount. Being Batman who had his own rouges gallery of villains was one thing and to be expected, but being Bruce Wayne came with it’s own form of dangers that were out to get him and anyone in association. So needless to say that you were under constant observation no matter where you went, and it was all in due to Bruce’s inherent distrust towards anyone he wasn’t well acquainted with.

He’s got a tracker on you and will watch the screen with a serious look upon his face as his eyes follows you on your route home for abnormalities of any kind, all the while keeping tabs on a open radio channel for any signs of criminal activity within the areas that you were walking.

Bruce doesn’t take your safety lightly and wouldn’t like it if you didn’t take your safety nearly as seriously as he does. So don’t even attempt to make jokes about it because Bruce will take it in full offence, for to him there was a time and place for making jokes but making jokes regarding your safety wasn’t one of them.

#bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne fanfiction #bruce wayne fluff #batman imagine #batman imagines #batman x reader #batman x you

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undercoverpena · 2 months

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4. green smoke

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter four of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.7k chapter warnings: [see masterlist for series warnings] meet cute, flirting. fluff. flirting in person and over IG. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used, you wear a date outfit but not specified and the shoes have heels but not mentioned what kind. minor discussion of past canon events incl. drugs. no use of y/n. an: if this as a friends episode this would be called "the one where they talk"

prev chapter | frankie's ig

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

Friday soon arrives.

It comes hand-in-hand with a tumultuous storm, bringing with it ominous rumbles echoing through your house. The air feels charged with tension, wrung tight, all sense—as if it’s holding its breath while the world around seems to retreat into darkness. Even if the time on your laptop says 14:43.

Your gaze fixates on beads of rain running down the window, all racing one another—like you have been for several minutes. The steady patter provides a rhythmic backdrop to your solitude, interrupted only by the occasional sighs that escape your lips and the soft tapping of your pencil against the notebook—a feeble attempt at pretending you’re concentrating.

Pretend is the optimum word.

Merely putting on a show of focusing on the task at hand. In reality, your eyes keep flicking to your phone—the one lying silent on the counter, eagerly anticipating the next notification that’ll make it illuminate.

Your work, the one thankfully with a deadline of next week, continues to sit ignored—barely considered, never mind plotted. Because it isn’t what fills your mind.

It’s him.

Just thoughts of him—mind populated with vivid memories that refuse to fade, unable to stop lingering on the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles or his infectious laugh. The one which has dug itself a place into the walls of your home, lit it up.

Then, you think of his lips, the ones that are purposeful, all heavenly. The mere thought of them sends a shiver down your spine, a longing present, spreading—

Unloading a delivery and you’re falling on me.

It's difficult not to smile at his message.

Something he effortlessly elicits from you now. Has done so since the very beginning. A thing he continues to do so the more the two of you speak.

It's giddy, almost teenage-like, the way your heart scampers to catch itself as your fingers try to pretend they're not darting to reply.

Excuse me? Rain. Oh, that is such a dad joke. It was. I’m pretty proud of it. Bet it made you smile. I will not confirm or deny. So that means it did. Shut up.

Thumbs swirling over the screen, you roll your lips, toes twitching on the floor as you grin.

So, how big is the candle going to be in the middle of the table? Ummm, appropriately sized for a restaurant? Hmm, I have only gone on dates with inappropriately sized candles. Are you flirting with me when I’m at work? Are you saying that like you don’t flirt with me when I’m at work? In my defence, you choose your own hours. Do you mind me flirting with you? Not even a little bit. Good. Because guess what I’m wearing right now? Hopefully nothing. I’m wearing sweats and a baggy T-shirt. Still hot. Get back to work, Butterscotch.

You know it’s not long—a handful of hours until you’ll be across from him.

Likely with your smile hurting your cheeks, eyes unable to stand looking away from him for more than a few minutes. Unable to explain or rationalise how straightforward it is with him, how natural it feels to get swept up in all of this and find yourself wanting to be around him.

Something you try to put to the back of your mind, to not clock-watch, not count down. Doing well at it until you hear your phone buzz and see his name appear on your screen.

The laundry you're putting away ignored, the item dropped from your hand to the floor, before wiping your hands on your thighs, taking a measured breath, then lifting the phone to swipe it.

His voice fills your ear almost immediately. All hello and your name, a can you hear me? following.

And your heart skips a beat—missing a whole thud against your ribs as you stare at the outfit hanging on the closet door.

“I’m really sorry—“

And your heart falls. Descends gradually, like a feather freefalling. Doing so until it has nowhere else to go but sit in the hollow void. Disappointment beating, pulsating.

“—Harold… he had to leave early, his heart was playing up and he said he’d come back. But I can’t make him do that, wouldn’t be able to enjoy ourselves if he just—"

“—Frankie—“

“—And I’ve tried to move the reservation, rang the restaurant. But, they’re booked up and I really want to take you there—”

“—Frankie?”

You brush the fabric, the hanger holding on to the top of the door with sheer will as you do so between thumb and finger. Half-smiling—even still. Listening to the way he takes a breath, to the way he cares so much.

“It’s okay,” you interrupt, swallowing, shoving the dismay down. “I… promise.”

The voice you hear back is soft. So tinged with sadness, and regret, you half-want to call him Butterscotch just to make him laugh. “You sure?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you reassure him, comfort him—voice steady as you do so, "We can reschedule. It's not a problem."

A moment of silence follows, with a sense of letdown settling in the air like fog. It sits there, resting, hanging. Because even if you know it’s just a minor adjustment, a twinge of disappointment still seeps in. Not so much a sharp pang, but a lingering weight that makes your shoulders sag, as though everything had deflated like a balloon slowly losing air.

“Baby… I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, a smile making its way onto your face despite the circumstances. "There's always next time."

“Not drove you away then?” he half-laughs, one you imagine is a little forced.

“Not even a little bit.”

Sighing, you swear you hear him smile with it. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

You grin, nothing but light and easy, “Just make sure next time you can show up, that’ll be a good start."

Frankie laughs, it flowing down your ear before it’s joined by a promise that he will and he can call you later, if you like? A thing which sounds like a good idea, even more so when it's followed by the fact he wishes he could stay—talk, but you know. Nodding to no one but yourself as you bid him goodbye, leaning against the wall—hanging up, full of bittersweet.

You let your head fall against it, rolling it there as your eyes flick back up at your clothes, lingering over it.

And an idea appears.

It grows—smothering over sadness before it blooms.

Then, you’re grinning. One almost as large as you do when he makes you giggle. Almost.

You’re thankful the sign still says open when you step out of your car—fingers tugging at fabric, ensuring it sits how it’s supposed to.

Even for a surprise, you wanted to look as picture-perfect as you should have been entering the restaurant. The paper bags catch your leg, noise crinkling against the air as you yank on the handle—entering, being washed in wood chippings, bleach and paint.

For a moment, one stuck between time and space, you look. Glance. Unsure where to find him, until your eyes land on him and find his head lifting at the sound of your entering.

Whatever Frankie had been in his hand dropped, all forgotten. His mouth parting at the sight of you. Taking you in. Sweeping brown, surprised eyes all over you as heat rises up your neck and brushes over your ears.

“I know I’m a little overdressed for buying a hammer, but…”

Mouth falling open, he looks torn between grinning and speaking. “What are you…”

Shrugging, watching his eyes roam up and down the outfit you’d chosen. The one that had been on the hanger for days—one you’d not thought could be replaced by anything else.

“Well,” you begin, smirking, “My date got caught up at work and I’d been really looking forward to seeing him.”

Frankie smiles, hand rubbing along his jaw as he stares.

“But then, someone told me there’s a secret restaurant here. One behind a metal door that says, Staff Only?”

Dropping his hand, and swiping his tongue across his lips—he slowly moves around the register. Coming to join you as you hold the bags up, the heels of your shoes clicking on the shop floor tiles as you meet him halfway.

“I also suspect that you might not have eaten, since you've been alone for most of the day.”

It’s at that moment his stomach roars. It grinds, what you assume is coffee, before groaning inside of him as he claps a hand on his apron.

“The only problem is,” you say, narrowing your eyes, scrunching your nose. “I… I didn’t know what you would like, so I might have bought a ridiculous amount of food.”

Taking a bag, his eyes widen when he opens it. “You’re staying, right? To help me?”

Reaching inside the bag he didn’t take, you pull out a single, battery-powered candle. “It’s a date.”

He gives you a wide smile, his eyes twinkling with happiness. "I just need to lock up," he says.

You watch with a flutter of excited nervousness as he moves around the store, flipping the sign on the door from 'Open' to 'Closed', and then securing the door. The lock clicks into place, echoing in the quiet store. He then proceeds to shut off the lights, plunging the store into a soft, inviting darkness lit only by the glow from the streetlights outside.

Turning back to you, he extends a hand.

"Shall we?" he asks, his voice filled with anticipation. You place your hand in his, feeling the warmth spreading through your fingers.

As you walk together towards the back of the store, a tinge of excitement flutters in the air. The 'Staff Only' sign looms above the door like a secret entrance to a place you shouldn't be, but with a gentle gesture, he ushers you inside.

You don't miss the way his fingers brush your lower back, the heat they ignite up your spine as his chest meets your back, face close to yours. Lingering, eyes sweeping over you.

"Lemme just..." he whispers, elongating it, before he bends to pull you a chair out—one with three wheels, no back—fingers sliding up to brush over your shoulders as you sit down.

“Careful.”

Swallowing, you suppress the effect he's having on you, forcing a smirk. “Oh, I’ll try, Morales. Don’t want you to have to fill out the accident book.”

“Harold would murder me.”

Snorting, you watch him join you—taking the candle from your hand, flicking it on and placing it directly in the middle before the two of you begin taking food out. He gazes at bundled packaged burgers, stealing a fry from the bag before it’s laid out over the desk.

“So, as it’s our third date.” His eyes flick to you, mid-bite of his food as you twirl a fry in your fingers. “I get to ask you challenging questions, right?”

“Fuck,” he says, under his breath. Grinning. “Alright, let me have it.”

Nudging him with the tip of your shoe he laughs. “Okay. You and Luca’s mom?”

“Ah.”

Grabbing a napkin, he wipes his mouth. “You don’t have to worry.”

“And as everyone in history knows, those words are how people stop worrying.”

Smirking, he turns on the wheely stool, facing you, knees abutting yours. “We haven’t been together since he was born—we… we weren’t even together by the time he reached six months. He… he doesn’t know any different. We have things we say, and truly, she’s a fantastic mom, we have a great co-parenting situation.”

“Okay.”

His fingers land on your knee, dancing over them, light and feathery as he sighs. Heavy. Weighted. It makes you swallow, makes you want to dig your fingers into your leg to stop yourself worrying, thinking—overdramatising whatever it is.

Scratching his head, he rolls his tongue from his cheek to the front of his teeth. “I wasn’t a good person then… a lot of shit had happened—I’d left the service, found myself… haunted, I guess? Me and her, we met, we… seemed good. She seemed good. And then, I…”

Your hand slides over his, one of your fries still in hand as you do. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“I want to.”

Nodding, he half smiles.

And then he does.

He tells you about his days in the army—and the sleepless nights when he was back home. The sense of loss he felt without it, the uniform that meant nothing when he joined a regular job. How flying helicopters for people with money who had no cares in the world began to make him hollow, carving a piece inside of him that didn’t fill with laughter at barbecues and trivia nights. He tells you how he’d rambled to someone about the lack of sleep, before he found a little white bag in his locker—an opportunity, a chance to not overthink.

That it had stayed there for days, almost a week until there had been news about someone he had once worked with.

Then he explained how it wasn’t a problem, but it also very much was. How he was lost, drowning—that people reached out, but the lights had been on, but no one was home. How it became a coping mechanism, a small dose to take the ache away—before he learnt he was going to be a dad. Her worries about him making her ignore the signs, much further on than they thought—and then, one month later, how he failed a drug test.

Trace amounts, barely anything, but still plenty.

His license, revoked—paused. His future dwindled, a baby due to arrive, one he’d heard the heartbeat off at the same time as he found himself at the threat of being alone. A second chance dangled, offered—do better, Frank. Don’t be selfish.

“—but, I didn’t change. Don’t change.”

Your heart falls, and descends.

Watching him shake his head, grabbing a handful of fries before stuffing them into his mouth as he chews, and you pick at one from your own box.

“Things were good—Luca, he had ten toes, ten fingers. He was great, happy. It made us being good seem real? But, it lingered, y’know? If work kept me later, there was this distrust, this question. And I couldn’t blame her, didn’t. Never would either. I broke that, I know I did. But…”

“It wasn’t healthy?”

Shrugging, he swallows, before nodding. “Then, I helped a friend, one from my squad. Had to… it was dangerous. I was gone longer than I said—and she worried, panicked. I knew before I left that when I got back I’d likely find my stuff packed—not that I blame her. I know we tried. But, I broke it. But now we’re better… better co-parents than partners, you know?”

Nodding, you chew, rolling the salt on your lips together. A beat passes, ice clanging in the drinks, cartons scratching against the table as the two of you eat.

“That was probably a lot.”

“It’s okay. Are you… are you good now?”

Nodding, he chews another fry. “Clean since Luca was born. Five years, fifty-seven days.”

“Well, I know this might be weird to say, but I’m proud of you.”

Smiling, he chews his cheek, meeting your eyes for the first time since he began sharing. “You’re a bit too good for me, you know that?”

Smirking, you steal one of his fries. “Oh, a hundred per cent. You might have a bunch of followers and good taste in paint colours, but did you know that I can sand down a dresser to the point a prominent Instagram DIYer has told me ‘I did a good job’.”

“Doesn’t sound that trustworthy. Bet he doesn’t know what you call wrenches.”

Pouting, you narrow your eyes as he laughs. “Thank you for telling me.”

Nodding, he rolls his lips. “I had to… ‘cause… are we enacting third date-talk honesty?”

“Of course.”

Half-smiling, he nudges himself closer on the stool. “I really like you.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you look up at the ceiling, before grabbing his knees and wheeling yourself closer. “I quite like you too.”

Smile spreading, he places his hands on top of yours. “Yeah? Because I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to… run from all of that.”

Smirking, you try to move closer, even if the wheels of both stools try to prevent you. “Did you know, honesty is really, really hot?”

Brows raising, chin lifting, his lips slide further into his cheek. “I’m glad you came.”

“I’m glad too.”

Swallowing, his fingers slide in between yours, eyes flicking from one eye to the other. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Dangerous, that.”

“Well, I’ve seen your house now.”

Nodding, you smile. Feeling it, whatever he’s going to say, ask, think lingering in the silence. His grin widens, a spark igniting in his eyes that sends a rush of warmth through you.

“So, I think it only seems fair you see mine.”

Wiping your hands on your napkin, licking your lips as you cross a leg over the other. “Well, for fair sake I definitely should.”

“Do you want to… now?”

“Tonight?”

Nodding, that same flush of pink rises up his neck, up his jaw.

Smirking, you loosen your hand from his—resting your palm on his cheek, elbow on your knee. “I’d like that.”

The car ride to his should be tense, but it isn't.

Instead, it's filled with soft laughter, teasing comments and shared glances—your fingers twitching, wondering whether a hand on his knee is too soon. Even when everything else feels so normal, natural.

When he pulls up outside his place, anticipation fills the air—a rush of warmth flooding through you, making your fingers clamp together and stare out at the place as he says, this is it.

It’s nice, well-kept—charming, from what you can already tell. Eyes spot chalk drawings on the patio, lit up by the outside lights and a plastic red car close to where he's parked.

“Luca has some good parking,” you smile, pointing to it next to you both. “You learn from him, or?”

Smirking, he undoes his belt. “Maybe, I taught him how to park. I’m very good with heavy transportation.”

You don’t miss the way he emphasises the sentence. Your 'oh' is swallowed by the sound of him opening the door and telling you to wait.

Watching as he moves around the vehicle, his eyes holding yours. Earlier, you'd been thankful that the rain had taken a pause; now you wished it hadn't stopped its lashings that glued clothing to skin, thighs pressing together on the seat before the door beside you opens.

“What a gentleman.”

“Just wanted another chance to chance to check you out, really.”

Swatting him, he takes your hand, his laugh blending with yours as he leads you up to his front door.

If he feels nervous, he doesn’t show it. Finding his keys and slides one into the lock without missing. Opening the door without as much as an awkward shove of the door.

If anything, it’s effortless. It not even squeaking or catching as he pushes it open.

“It’s not a lot…” he begins.

But he couldn’t be more wrong.

It’s cosy and warm. Exuding an unmistakable homeliness that immediately comforts you. Dark woods, off-whites, and splashes of orange, caramel, and greens intertwine harmoniously, creating a space that feels both freshly decorated and deeply loved. A balance you assume exists because of him being the one to bring it all together, knowing from the videos you've seen how talented he is.

As you glance around, you begin to see the traces of the Frankie you’ve been getting to know. Photographs of him at the beach, with his son, with friends and more with Luca at varying ages.

Then, there are the plants. An assorted mix of them, some big that you remember from photos, some greener than others—some tall and in plants with animal faces like raccoons and beavers, others in decorative pots placed on shelves.

As you step in further, you spot furniture you recognise from videos—even noting the stacked pile of books from a photo he’d shared recently and a record player on a side table.

“C’mon, let me show you around.”

He leads you, hand in yours, showing you his well-equipped kitchen, and dining space. Occasionally, he points things out, like the markings on a wall he’s using to measure how tall Luca gets and the scuff marks from dragging the dining table in after varnishing it. Before finally, the two of you are outside the half-open door to his bedroom.

Frankie giving you a wink, bodies almost flush.

“That where the magic happens?”

“Not usually…”

"Maybe that's cause people haven't been saying the right magic words." Shrugging, you lick your lower lip, staring at the beading on the door. "I should tell you, I've heard I'm quite good at magic words..."

You let it linger, sit. Before you turn on your heel, fingers brushing over a table as you head back in the direction of his living room.

He follows, a step or two behind, letting you and your eyes capture all the personal touches before you feel fingers on your wrist, tugging you back, body flush to his.

Wrapping an arm around your waist, you find your throat dry—eyes flicking to his mouth.

“Go take a seat, I’ll bring us a drink.”

It’s soft, the nod you do as he slips his hand from your waist. You move, almost on auto-pilot, to sit down on his sofa, running your fingers over a cushion—one stitched with greens, golds and oranges.

When he reappears, you look up at him, noticing the hint of nerves in his gaze as you plaster on a reassuring smile as he places them down on the coffee table.

Slowly, you reach out, squeezing his hand, "Your home is lovely, Frankie."

He chuckles, a soft blush creeping up his cheeks as he joins sitting down. "Yeah?"

Nodding, you press your knee against his. “So.”

“So.”

With a smirk, you draw a measured breath. “I believe... I want to kiss you now.”

Swallowing, his gaze flickers to your lips, lingering, before snapping back up to your eyes. Warmth spreads over your cheeks, neck and ears. “I believe you should, Rainy.”

A response there, nestled between teeth and tongue, is muffled as his lips meet yours—for the first time in several days.

an: as a warning, the next chapter will include smut. if you wish to skip the smut, you can miss the chapter as there will be no other scenes. the following chapter will pick up the next morning.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #pedrostories #jo: dmy

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sminiac · 6 months

Note

anton thigh riding 😵‍💫

RAHHHH. This one’s got me deep in thought, and not just about riding Anton’s thigh but him desperately trying to get himself off on yours, you picking up what I’m putting down?

Would be so sweet, yet letting out the most bratty whines, upset at the lack of attention as he’s working his hips over you, making such a mess over your skin as he’s trying to chase the friction that’ll kick in the build up to his peak, but he can only catch a flew licks of it without your help, the poor thing, what would he do without you? “Shit— please, can I jus’ use your hand, need it, need you so bad. Fuck myself for you, something, anythin’.”

Gets so frustrated that you’re just watching him that his sass will certainly slip even though he doesn’t mean to, but he’s so quick to catch himself :( profusely apologizes as his fingers squeeze at your arms, his grip tight like he’s scared you’ll pull away, throat becoming thick from the tears that glaze at his eyes, he’s just so needy, just wants you to be nice to him, just wants you to make him cum.

“‘M sorry, I’ll be good now, promise— just for you.”

ᰔ sminiac’s RIIZE M.list

#riize hard hours #anton lee #anton lee x reader #anton lee riize #riize anton #riize anton smut #anton x reader #anton x reader smut #anton smut #anton imagines #riize imagines #riize x reader #riize smut #riize #briize

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tripleyeeet · 7 months

Text

FEED ME

SUMMARY: You ride Astarion's thigh and he lets you drink his blood. That's it. That's the fic. It's horny as all hell.

PAIRING: Ascendant Astarion & Spawn Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 1,519

WARNINGS: 18+ sexual content, thigh riding, praise/degradation, orgasm denial (if you squint), penetrative sex (reader receiving), blood sucking, spit kink, allusions of religion.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Honestly this is just so gross I apologize I literally have no excuse other than I'm going to hell probably. :')

MASTERLIST

Patience has never been your virtue.

In fact, it’s something you’ve sorely lacked your entire life, believing you deserve to be treated in a timely manner regardless of circumstance. Because of this, it often feels like an uphill battle when you’re forced onto Astarion’s thigh, dripping with sweat, begging for release as you grind against the fabric of his trousers.

“Patience, pet,” he always says, holding your face —tightening the grip he has with rough fingers that make you whimper at the thought of your own prolonging.

Every time, you have to fight the urge to clench your jaw and grind your teeth. To showcase displeasure in the face of God as he graces you so slowly and intimately. Allowing you to pant against his chest and lock your arms around his neck as he trails soft patterns into your flesh.

Deep down, you know it’s a gift. To be able to touch him in any sort of way is an act bestowed. An act meant to be cherished, so you wait. Telling yourself it’ll be worth it in the end as you listen to the whispers that flutter against your ear.

“That’s it, keep going.”

His voice is like a hymn. Every verse of instruction, spoken like a blessing, forces you to hold your breath and shift your weight further against his leg. Feeling the pressure build so slowly you can’t help but whimper in frustration, you hear him laugh. The reverb of his torment rattling against your aching hands that gently thumb his throat, seeking more.

Barely above a whisper, you beg. Pleading through the desperate buck of your hips, you ask for indulgence. For absolution. For him to pity your starving cunt as it continues to brush against him, unable to pass that final threshold.

All he does is laugh again. The wicked tone piercing your flesh like a knife as his fingers dig into your hips, forcing you further down. “You’ll get what you’re owed,” he tells you then, grinning —bearing his teeth tauntingly. “Once you take it.”

At that point, it feels like he’s punishing you. Forcing you to take penance —to perform your devotion in a way that he enjoys.

You’re not sure you’ll ever understand it. Why he does the things he does. Why, without fail, he prolongs your needs to feed and fuck —to feel him fully firm inside the walls of your sex.

Even now, as you try to distract yourself from the agonizingly slow speed at which you ride his thigh, feeling him give you that little extra push as you grind further down, all you want to do is lean forward and sink your teeth into his flesh. To suck the wound and lap away the crimson blood that’ll pool within your mouth.

It makes you hungry just thinking about it. Starved. Filled to the brim with every desire he so effortlessly dangles in front of your face. As if you’re a malnourished dog and he’s offering himself like raw meat.

You lick your lips and think of what he might taste like. How his blood compares to that of the people he feeds you. Would it be warm and sweet like honey? Would it thicken against your tongue, allowing you to savour its flavour before it slips down your throat? Or would it feel more like a cool glass of water? Refreshing and light —easy to gulp down?

“Mm, I see someone’s getting a bit hungry.”

A part of you wants to narrow your eyes to showcase your displeasure, but you don’t dare. Instead, all you do is close your mouth, realizing how slack it is as a pooling of spit collects at the corners.

It makes you embarrassed. Feeling the drool that slips down the edge —watching as he reaches to wipe it away with a huff, calling you pathetic. Telling you that only good girls get their fill.

“I won’t give you what you don’t deserve,” he says, leaning in, staring into your eyes as they instantly twitch away, averting their gaze as your mind begins to shift. Focusing on the feeling of your core, aching with heat as you tremble through distracted movements still thinking of his taste.

Feeling you falter, he forces you to look at him again. Gripping the bottom half of your face, his nails dig into the plush of your cheeks, commanding you to keep his gaze.

“Look at me,” he says.

There’s a force behind his words that quickly reminds you of the position you're in. That despite being physically above him, in all other cases you’re actually far below. Lower than the dirt he walks on, meaning you shouldn’t take this moment for granted.

Realizing this, you nod your head against the placement of his hand, feeling it loosen ever so slightly as you take a deep breath, preparing to move. Jutting your hips forward, you then start with languid motions.

Getting the feel for what you like, you test out different weights, dropping your hands towards the top of his thighs to further support yourself. As you do, you feel Astarion’s hands begin to slide out of their original places. The one on your hip moves to cup your ass while the other, still remaining firmly on your face, begins to stroke your cheek. As if to further coax you through the snapping of your pelvis as it starts to rock in place.

Both gestures work to encourage you. Somehow, despite their subtleties, you feel the support they offer each time you grind against him, feeling that imaginary band begin to pull further apart. As he palms your backside, giving it a little rough tap here and there, the only thought behind your eyes is that of his prior instruction.

That you need to take to receive.

Pushing your hands further into his legs, you let out a heavy breath that quickly tails out into a moan, making him smile and stroke the base of your cheek so lovingly you almost whimper in response. “That’s it, darling, keep it up.”

You nod, unable to form coherent thoughts as your folds brush against the fabric; the texture serving as that extra push you need to keep yourself going. To motivate the motions as you push and pull, feeling it continuously build until your mouth is split open again he’s ripping you off of him.

It leaves you disoriented, being quickly tossed to his other thigh ass first, watching as he palms the fabric that rests over his cock before allowing it to spill out.

Once it’s on full display, you look back up at him with such desperate eyes that you’re almost surprised when he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you back, praising you all over again. Telling you what a job you’re doing as he maneuvers your legs around his waist and begins to slide in.

It’s slow but smooth, the way he slots himself into you. Immediately, feeding you a piece of that hunger you crave, you’re rewarded with a quiet hum of approval as you rock your hips against him, feeling the way he juts inside in response.

It leaves you breathless upon impact. The weight of your torso leisurely bouncing on his cock, forcing you to wrap your arms around him again. Almost instantly, they take hold of his throat with the crook of your arms, allowing him better leverage to push you up only to pull you back down as he grunts through each movement —groaning as you provide him with enough impact going down to hit that spot that has you twitching around him.

By then you’re both moving in perfect tandem. As he offers you your earned pleasure, you begin to moan his name in prayer, repeating it as a thank you for his benevolence.

In response, he smiles through a heavy breath and maneuvers his wrist to his lips, never breaking eye contact as he drives his teeth into the base of the flesh, forcing the blood to enter his mouth before he reaches for your chin.

Once he’s had his fill he presses a thumb to your lips, applying the smallest amount of pressure as he continues fucking into you, watching with bated breath as you open up wide for him, granting him the access he needs to feed. To take your cheeks in his hand and angle your head back so that he can slowly release the blood into your mouth.

As soon as it hits your tongue you can feel yourself become sated. While he drives himself further, snapping his hips in timed sessions, you can barely focus on the sweetness of his taste. How it tickles your tongue going down but still manages to ease all the previous aches of hunger.

Looking up at him, you smile with blood stained teeth, deliriously laughing through the final pumps before both of you are coming together, twitching against each other’s flesh as presses both hands against your spine, willing you to have your fill as he offers you his neck, continuing to fuck you through your orgasm.

@poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo@jjfchk@idiotsatan@bluestuesday@bloopthebat@art-by-greenie@heneralmoon@sukunababe@dreamingaboutyousworld@ranfithegood@haniscrying@liadamerondjarin@the-lake-is-calling@marina-and-the-memes@rookieoftheyear@zraloci-cpr@kaetmo@snickerdoodle-daydream@wowowwild@d1anna@raswiet@conniesbbymama@venus-wrts@demonicthorns@kihten@deadglamsheep@sanscas@spammypasta@leighsartworks216@rose-gold-blue@p1ssmagg0t@hellish-writes@ghostinvenus@otayz@sexysquatch@sleepyeclair@colorful-anxieties@alina-exe@ilana-the-lasagna@lillifer@girlwiththepapatattoo@y2cade@acelin-ginsberg@pinkuranium@catrad0rable@scarletrosesposts@qwnamidala@itsrosebabe@bunnyperi@queenofcarrotflowers-s@tatumadams20@spkyxszn@chlort@f3v3rs@awkwardwookie@joy-the-reader@warm-milk-with-honey-blog@vertigocrime@iyis@wildpiper@pebblethestone@tillywasneverhere@bex-03@kaetmo@revemiya@staticspouse@itzagothamcitysiren@djarinsmixtape@when-the-night-came@epicy0n@bababahannah@sleepyred1703@lotus-99@lofcompass@r4d10h34d5@vampninjaz@itsmekalou@offbrandhand@yikes-buddy@konenichi@rainonarden@oceanbluesixeyes@bodtyworship@maydayitsjay@greasyslimebucket@yeeteth-the-raven@fantasyfairysworld@allexthakatt@flowersaretheshit@morglyne@thespectacularspaceace@cephiss0@use-your-telescope@furblrwurblr@kloverfield@angelofthorr@writervaul-t@starved-kitten@minixluvr@crowley--aziraphale@sapphicwren@alionera-blog@jennithejester@dezedrol@thisisew@saladalpaca@applepiewithbacon@httpbiohazard@aurasyn@nerdoodles@kingpinthedevil@itzkawaiix@domainoflostsouls@silverskylan@uminootome@helpidkwhatimdoingwrong@deadlyinfernos@blackbirdswhispers@sarahskywalker-amadala@writingmysanity@f3v3rs@jayjones03@quietlyebbie@optimisticprime3@eyes-for-daze@sunnytalia3@megoshh@maddiedott@cappsikle@mostbeautifulnightmare@lynnlovesloki@simpytheshrimpy69@astarion-archive@smaranshakthi@autistic-deer@shadowfeart@freckled-petals@candied-lavender@hp-art-studio@ghouligan@satelliteapotheosis@waywardwitch-hel@pandimoostuff@mythoughtsofinsanity@ilovelovelylove@oneandonlyizabelle

TAGLIST NOW CLOSED!

#feed me #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion fan fic #astarion smut #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #astarion x you #ascended astarion x spawn reader #summer writes

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mrwavellswaps · 2 months

Text

Wavell’s Curiosity (Poll 4)

Currently working on a new story for you all to enjoy but in the meantime I thought I’d post another fun poll to get your thoughts on. Feel free to leave comments explaining your choice!

1) If you chose to steal his clothes then you will be able to transform into him whenever you like. You can steal multiple articles of clothing but you won’t need to be wearing all of them to transform. As long as you are just wearing one, you’ll become him. For example if you steal his shorts, sneakers and socks, you’d only need to wear the socks the transform into him. Same goes for the sneakers or shorts. As long as you’re wearing at least one article of the stolen clothes, you can wear anything else you want and you’ll still become him. But as soon as you take it all off you’ll return to normal. Perfect for someone who just wants to have fun as a gym hunk once in awhile without disturbing their own life too much.

2) Possession is self explanatory for the most part. It can be either physically pushing your body inside his or doing so as a ghost/spirit of sorts. He might fight back a little and there may be some mild convulsions as you take over so best not to do this in a public space. Unless that’s your thing of course. Once complete you’ll have full control of his actual body for as long as you like. He’ll still be conscious throughout this and may try to protest but ultimately he’ll be powerless to stop you from having your way with his body and accessing his memories if need be. Only a passenger until you decide to leave. If you do at all.

3) Whether it be via a pill slipped into his protein shake or an injection you’ve stuck him with when he least expects it, turning him into a bodysuit is permanent. No take backs. That in mind you’ll have one of two choices. One, you hide his body suit and only wear it in private or sparingly if you are to go out any time soon. After all people will be looking for him after suddenly disappearing and if they see you wearing him out and about there’s no doubt going to be a storm of questions coming your way. Best to be careful. Unless of course you choose option two. As soon as you turn him into a bodysuit, slip inside him right away. Make sure you’re comfortably slotted in before permanently sealing up the suit and prepare to say goodbye to your old life. I’m unsure if sealing up a bodysuit will allow you access to the memories it once had so I guess you’d have to find out yourself.

4) Switch bodies via a kiss. It’s as simple as it sounds. You’ll use some kind of spell to enchant your lips making it so whomever you kiss next will be forced to switch with you. All you have to do is sneak up to him in the gym locker room or something and when he least expects it, smash your lips against his. He might try to pull away but he won’t be able to and before you know it you’ll feel dizzy for a moment and next thing you know you’ll be standing in his hunky body! He’ll of course be in yours and probably freaking the fuck out as your check out your new body. If I were you, I’d trick him into telling you everything about his life with the promise that you’ll switch back in a week or so if he does. Of course he doesn’t need to know that it’s actually a one time only kind of deal hahah.

5) A potion that’ll that transform you into across multiple days is also very self explanatory. Though for this you’ll need some of his DNA for the potion. This could be something as simple as some of his hair or maybe some sweat from a stolen tank top. Or if you’re feeling really risky you try breaking into his house and finding a cum sample. Maybe a crusty sock or shirt he’s jizzed onto or if you’re lucky perhaps even a discarded condom he’s recently used. Whatever you find, as soon as add it to the potion you’ll be ready to go. Just toss it back and be patient. You might not feel anything at first but as the days go by you’ll start to notice changes. If you’re someone with a bit more fat on their frame, you might start to notice yourself trimming down and vice versa if you’re rather skinny you might notice yourself beginning to look and feel a little bigger. Your skin tone will gradually change. Your facial features will slowly rearrange. Your muscles will steadily grow and shape themselves. Every last detail of your body slowly but surely changing until after about a week you’ll have become him completely. Its also worth noting that he’ll be experiencing the opposite as he gradually transforms into you. It’s likely you’ll also gain some of his memories during this process but not all so you’ll have to do some research to find out everything you can.

6) The next one is for my folks who love a little bit of intimate stuff. Being able to possess him clothing. It’s as simple as it sounds. You’ll have to ability to possess any article or his clothing you like. His shirts and tank tops. His pants and shorts. His socks and sneakers. Even his underwear! You can possess it all. And whenever he puts something on that you’re possessing, you can immediately take control of his body any transferring your mind into him. However this is optional. If you wish to remain as say his tank top for example as he works out, even after he puts you on, then you can! But when you do decide to take over he’ll have no memory of being controlled and will believe everything you did while in his body was his choice. The only drawback to this however is that you’ll never be able to return to normal. You’re forever going to be stuck as either this stud’s clothes or inside him body. But if you chose this option then I assume you’d be okay with that.

7) Head swapping. Such a rare thing to see yet so intriguing. It’s like a niche form of pseudo bodyswapping. Instead of fully switching bodies with another person you are simply removing your head and placing it on top of another body. This would of course mean you’d still have the same face you’re used to seeing in the mirror every day, only now you’d have the body of meathead from the neck down. It might look a little strange at first but your head will slowly adapt to the new body it’s been matched with. The skin tone of your head will quickly begin to match that of your new body and your facial features may change ever so slightly to vaguely resemble the hunk who’s body you now have but not too much. Perhaps just things like your beard growing more like his or your eyes changing colour. But other than that your head will remain more or less the same. However this method is know to sometimes cause minor disconnects between your mind and your new body. For example you may find one of your limbs moving seemingly on their own due to some kind of phantom muscle memory from time to time. Or you may find yourself absentmindedly slipping your hand into your shorts to cradle your cock and balls if that’s something this stud body was used to doing. On that note, sleepwalking is also a common side effect.

8) Now this one is for those body swapping enthusiasts who just love a good ol swapping machine! Something huge and chunky that was probably made in a lab by a mad scientist obsessed with stealing the perfect body. It’ll do the trick alright. But the hard part is gonna be getting him hooked up to the machine. Chances are he’d not just gonna walk up and do it so you’ll have to figure that out. Best bet will be finding some way to lure him back to your place, spike his drink and drag his unconscious body down to the machine. Put that chunky metal helmet on his head before putting one on yourself and as soon as he wakes up, flip that switch! The machine will blare to life and before you know it your consciousness is being transferred out via the helmet, through the machine, and stuffed into that hot jock body. Then you’ll be able to toss that helmet off your new hunky body and if you’ve gone through all this effort to steal it, I have no doubt you’ll end up breaking the machine as soon as possible to ensure there’s no going back.

Can’t wait to see the results of this one! 😈

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esha-isboogara · 1 year

Text

lyrical lies

i am a fuckinf degenerate and i’d like to apologize for how disgusting i have become.this is the longest thing i’ve written in a while..i’ve gone off the deep end if it isn’t clear🤭

here is more rick stuff not one person asked for find it here and here and here and here and here and here

✰let’s be honest rick is his own warning, smut , afab reader, age gap!!, calling him god, a bit of manhandling, a bit of dacro (?), shitty porn trips turned full blown story

“he doesn’t bite..just go ask him”. summer whispered, nudging you towards the garage door.

you shook your head in muted panic. you’d seen how angry her grandpa could get over small things and the last thing you were going to do was set him off over a stupid question.

“why don’t you do it summer ? this was your idea, plus he’s your grandfather”. you shot back.

she looked just as scared as you were. “he’ll totally yell at me if i go in there. he can’t be mad at you, you’re a guest”.

“yeah but what if he does ? i don’t want to get on his bad side”.

summer took hold of your shoulders. “y/n. the quicker we get this done the quicker we can get away from my grandpa and do something more fun”.

the garage door opened suddenly caused you both to jump back in shock.

there he stood , an annoyed look on his face. “i’m right in the middle of something very fucking important- is there a reason the two of you are bickering right in front of my god damn door”?

his piecing gaze was enough to make you want to cry. “i..we need help on a science project mr. sanchez sir”. you managed to say fighting back the urge to turn around and leave.

he cocked his head in amusement, his demeanor softening a bit. it was clear you had played right into his ego for better or for worse.

“that’s it ? why didn’t you just say that come in come in”.

you followed him into the garage the papers clenched in your hands.

“not you summer, you - you forbidden from entering. i know you went through my shit two days ago”. rick said, slamming the door in her face.

if only that had actually been the reason. he couldn’t wait to have sweet,innocent little y/n alone. every since she’d bonded with summer over some college tour bullshit he was obsessed. he needed you and needed you bad, as embarrassing as that was.

“what can i help you with sweetheart”? his voice as sweet as saccharine.

you fidgeted with the papers once more. “well i have this project based around quantum physics and since you’re the smartest person i know i figured you’d be the best person to ask mr. sanchez”.

he couldn’t help but smile at that. he WAS a fucking genius and hearing it out loud always made him puff up in pride.

and she has manners too. this was not going to easy. it’s not that he cared about his granddaughters feelings - quite the opposite. but if summer were to find out how he really saw her friend she’d stop bringing you over. and that would just make things a million times harder for him.

“you��re not wrong, i am the smartest person you’ll probably ever meet. and lucky for you i have something that’ll give your professor a run for their money”.

as he rifled through us cabnets filled to the brim with countless inventions he piped up “and sweetheart”?

you felt yourself melting into his trap. “yes sir”?

“you’re a grown fucking woman right ? you can call me rick”.

—————————————————————————

you were like putty in his hands at this point and he’d be lying if he wasn’t loving every second of this. and it only took 30 minutes. maybe you weren’t as innocent as you acted but he wasn’t complaining.

not when you sat atop his lap so pretty asking- no begging him to please you.

“p-please mr. sanchez” you whined, wrapping your arms around his neck and grinding yourself against his leg. “i want you to touch me , use me please, please mr. sanchez”.

oh god how could he say no to those sweet noises. he’d take you apart right fucking there if he could but alas his family was home and they did not need to catch wind of the things he was doing. he messed with the idea of erasing their memories in his head for a while but figured it would be way too much work in the long run.

“fuuuck. i’ll give you everything you want and more but you have to promise me you’ll shut up. i would hate for your best friend to walk in and see what a slutty mess you’ve become”.

you nodded your head vigorously, happy to finally get some kind of satisfaction. as terrifying as rick was you’d be lying if you said the way he towered over you with such control didn’t turn you on.

“you’re so obedient- smart girl. do me a favor will ya ? get up and lift up that skirt for me , let me see what i’m workin with here”.

you did as you were told, climbing off his lap and giving him a slow twirl.

“good girllll”.

he clenched his hand into a fist. holy shit you were a fine piece of ass. he couldn’t wait to make you his. fuck what summer thought he was going to fuck you so good you’d come back for more.

“fuckk you’re a pretty thing huh ? it’s a wonder you haven’t already been claimed, guess it’s a good thing you came here cause i plan on doin just that”. with those words he was was hovering above you pressing your face down on the metal surface of his work table.

“you look even b-better like this holy shit” he admired from his standing position.

“fu-fuck mr. sanch- rick”. you corrected yourself mid sentence. drool was already starting to pool beside your mouth but you barely noticed with how hot and bothered you were growing.

“mmm that’s a good girl”. he flipped your skirt up. and pulled your panties down to your knees ignoring your small please for him to be gentle.

he smiled- a shit eating grin looking at how soaked your sex was. “you poor thing- i’ve d-denied you much too long haven’t i ? left this perfect pussy empty for weeks? how did you ever survive”?

usually he engaged in a little foreplay only because his partners were so dead set on it. but he was far too eager to do any of that bullshit right now. he’d been waiting for this.

without so much as a warning he thrust himself inside you, a scream leaving your lips.

his hand flew to your mouth covering it word word word

“shhh shh shhh. i know how much you love my cock but you have to stay quiet. got it y/n”?

he removed his palm for a moment to hear you answer.

you don’t answer though. you’re a babbling drooling mess already. the feeling of his cock filling you up and stretching your walls felt like heaven.

“you’re my god rick - please decide what to do with me and treat me like your slave. you control all my actions i’m nothing but your stupid worldly servant to fill with seed when you please”.

he was a bit taken aback as that comment seemed to come out of nowhere. when it sank in it gave him even more of a reason to keep you to himself.

if he wasn’t carful he’d be giving beth a new little sibling. but oh fuck- she looked and sounded so perfect begging for him.

“fuck yeah i am your god ! i’m a god among men and you’re my mortal pet i can use as i please”.

the whine that escaped her throat was almost pornagraphic. it was hard to keep your composure under the circumstances.

“good pet”.

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bluechronicles · 2 months

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sal fisher ⟢ dating headcanons

NOTES ✦ i haven’t actually finished the game so maybe ooc sal, but i read a lot of sal x reader. i’ll finish the game after this post, lol.

PAIRING ✦ sal fisher x gender neutral!reader

sal is the sweetest boy ever! everyone says this, but he truly is. sal fully believes communication is key, and that it’s crucial in every relationship.

he’ll never try to make you feel left out or feel outcasted or indifferent based on any features or disorders you have. he personally knows what it feels like due to his incident and prosthetic, so he tries his best. let him know by words that you appreciate his efforts greatly!

sal loves doing small things, like holding your hand. he enjoys the comfort and touch, or maybe even just getting up and getting you water. hydration is great.

all this poor boy asks for is your love after <3

i feel like sal would go into dating someone who’s already seen his face, he’s that comfortable with them. you’d probably be apart of the gang, or just a close friend of his he met during a class. and if it’s when he’s a young adult, say you were a cashier. i don’t know.

if there’s one cute aspect of sal fisher, he gets very flustered around you.

even the slightest touches still make him feel like he’s on cloud nine, making him giggle and kick his feet like a schoolgirl.

valentine’s day was almost a week ago, so let’s kick in some v-day stuff in here.

sal is a very thoughtful boyfriend, but his mind almost blanks when it comes to valentine’s day. he’s not sure at all what to do, he knows what you like, he’s not worried about that. just how’ll you’ll react. he’s thoughtful, but he overthinks.

sal decides on making a basket, filled with your favorite chocolate/candy—or your favorite snacks. a teddy bear with it holding a heart shoved in there, laced with the words “love”.

valentines day is on a good sunny wednesday, everyones holding flowers or absolutely dejected after getting rejected by their crushes. not you, though. happily standing at your locker, not even caring if sal got you something.

he’s all you need! but him showing up timidly with his small basket of things, handing it to you shyly; it made you giggle and blush, taking it and inspecting it carefully.

he would be soo happy that you like it!

now, more general stuff, sal is a great boyfriend.

maybe it’s already been established, but he’ll get you whatever you want. oh, you want those cheetos? it’s done. want that extremely overpriced water that’ll hurt sal’s wallet immediately after its purchase? he’s got it in his hands. sal would almost literally go into debt for you, he’s down bad.

#sal fisher x reader #sal fisher #sally face #sally face x reader #sally face x you #sally face x y/n #sal fisher x y/n #sal fisher x you #x reader

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harrywavycurly · 2 months

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At First Sight Part 3: He’s What?

Masterlist: Here

CW: Language

Tag List: @ali-r3n @blckburd @comeonatmebruh @sweetmoonlove0214 @heydreamchild @mrsjellymunson @marshmallowgem @sofaritsalrightt @josephquinnsfreckles

A/N: Poor Robin being brought into all this and poor Eddie for not knowing what to do with himself, enjoy the madness and don’t worry you’ll ACTUALLY be in the next part😂💖

“He’s what?” “In love with her.” “I’m not just in love with her Harrington…it’s…way fucking more than that man…it’s like she’s all I can think about until I get to see her again and…and the idea of her being alone right now instead of being safe with me just kills me I need-” “you need to take a few deep breaths and just relax for a moment Munson.” “So…he’s…in love with her? And you wanna know if I know her? Why didn’t you just ask Dustin to talk to her?” “Because he has a big fucking mouth and will just blab that Eddie’s in love and that’ll freak her out.” “Right Steve because her seeing him all heart eyes and mouth open literally drooling at the idea of her won’t freak her out?…you’ve lost your damn mind.” “Do you know her or not Buckley? I don’t have time for this…it’s already been two days since I saw her and that’s about all I can do before I take things into my own hands and go knock-” “you’re not knocking on anyone’s door! We’ve been over this a hundred times!” “Yes…I know her and…yeah I can reach out and see if she has any idea who the hell you are and if…she’d be interested in you having her phone number.” “You know her? Like you’re friends with her?” “Yes Eddie I’m friends with-” “what’s she like? Does she like flowers? Is she allergic to anything? You think she’ll like my hair? I can cut it if she wants I don’t care oh oh do you think-” “you have got to get him away from me Steve or I’m going to gag him with a bag of Swedish fish.” “Now you see what I’ve been dealing with…I made him stay with me because I didn’t trust that he wouldn’t go over to her house and embarrass himself.” “Nothing to do with telling the love of my life how I feel is embarrassing…grow up.” “What did Dustin say? Did he mention if seeing her will make him…not so…crazy?” “He said if she feels the same they’ll both have like a moment and then their personalities should go back to normal but they’ll just be….disgustingly in love.” “And if she doesn’t feel the same?” “Why would you say that? Do you know something? Did she mention me?” “Calm down Munson.” “Don’t tell me to calm down Harrington! I’m in fucking love and you’re both being assholes about it!” “Jesus let me just talk to her and get this over with just…go walk around the store while I see what I can do.” “But not by the door…I don’t want you getting any ideas about leaving without any supervision.” “Yeah yeah whatever I’ll be in the horror section…oh shit.” “What?” “What if she doesn’t like scary movies? I’m gonna have to watch…romcoms…” “Oh my god you’re so annoying.” “I’m gonna go in the back and text her…” “oh so you’re just gonna leave me alone with him? Nice Buckley real nice.” “Later losers…I’ll either be back with good news or….I won’t be back at all.”

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mrworldwideshoulders · 10 months

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all the wrong places || reader x myg

After getting separated from your friends during a night out, you get stuck with a hefty bill – one that you can’t pay. So when a handsome, emotionless stranger covers your tab in a random act of kindness, you’re determined to track him down and pay him back. inspired by 24K Magic by Bruno Mars.

‣ Pairing: reader x yoongi (dual pov; feat. JK and Jimin) ‣ WC: 6.1k ‣ Genre: slight angst, fluff, strangers to lovers ‣ Warnings: alcohol consumption, reader and jimin joke about her being an alcoholic 🤪 (psa fr tho, please drink responsibly), credit card debt, yoongi (gently) manhandles the reader, bouncer!jungkook and his tattoos, jeon jungkook being freaking annoying, unrealistic scenarios that could only happen in a fic (is it fate, or is it just fanfiction?), reader in her dumb bitch era (said lovingly) ‣ a/n: same yoongi from my fics bang bang and give me novacaine; different y/n tho. i’d def recommend checking those two out first (though for this one i don’t think you really have to unless you’d like more backstory). i like this fic a lot and i think it’s cute so i hope you enjoy it too! as always, bannered and beta’d by the amazing april aka @onmypillow-onmytable, plus credit for the general idea of this story! 😘 thx! ly – robyn ‣ P.S. I do not own BTS, their likenesses, or the music of Bruno Mars, they just inspire me.

part of the 24k magic collection (masterlist)

This might actually be the worst night of your life. Or at the very least, one of the most embarrassing ones.

Your friends, who were supposed to be splitting the bar tab with you, have all but evaporated into thin air, and you’re so far gone you can’t even remember when you saw them last. And it’s starting to dawn on you, as your credit card declines for the third time, that you may have overdone it – in more ways than one. Declining once, that’s normal. Two times, that’s just bad luck. Three times declined, however, that’s just embarrassing. If there were ever a time you wished you were more proactive about budgeting and keeping your credit card paid off, it would be now. It’s not the end of the world, of course. You just won’t get your credit card back tonight, and you’ll have to come all the way back over here to retrieve it at some point – after you go home and recover enough of your senses to pay off some of the balance on your card. But going without your credit card for any length of time makes you anxious for some reason, and having to come back over here just for that doesn’t particularly fit into your already busy schedule.

“Are you sure you don’t have another card?” The bartender that’s trying to close out your tab looks at you pointedly as you’re rummaging through your bag. You can feel the weight of his judgmental gaze all over you.

“No, but, listen,” you ramble, face hot with a mixture of shame and too much alcohol. “I wasn’t supposed to be the one paying for everything. My friends, they stuck me with the bill, and I really need—”

“Sounds like you don’t have very good friends.” He stares you down unsympathetically. “Either cough up or get out.”

“Can’t you just…give me my card back?” you manage helplessly. You feel tears of frustration starting to form behind your eyes. “I’ll come back and pay you tomorrow. I’m good for it. Really. I just have to—” Rearrange my entire bank account, pay off my credit card, reevaluate my whole life, and promise to stick to a budget from here on out, no matter how much Jimin and Nayeon want to go out drinking. Yeah. That’ll last about a week.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” grumbles a low, irritated voice from behind you. You turn to find a man dressed completely in black, with dark eyes and an expressionless face shrouded under a heavy curtain of black hair. He hands the bartender a sleek black card. “Here. Will you leave her alone now? Go back to pretending to do your job or something.” Your eyes widen. Who is this guy? And what is he doing?

The bartender eyes you sullenly and hands you back your card. You turn to the man to thank him, but he’s already walking away, being swallowed up by the crowd. “Hey!” you call. “Wait up!” You push clumsily after him, jostling people left and right as you try to catch up with him. He’s at the front door before you’re finally able to tap him on the shoulder.

“Now what?” he snaps.

“I just wanted to thank you,” you say breathlessly, taken aback by his brusque reply. “For what you did back there. I can’t even tell you how much I appreciate it. I was about to cry because of that guy, and then you just appeared out of nowhere to save the day. You must be my guardian angel or something.”

He lets out a bitter chuckle. “Trust me, I’m no angel.”

Your cheeks seem to flush all over again and you almost forget the other reason you chased after him in the first place. “Oh! Money! I can repay you.”

His face doesn’t change. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not a big deal.”

“But…it’s money.” Your face falls in disbelief. “Of course it’s a big deal. And I don’t like owing people anything. Especially money.”

“Well, I’m not big on people feeling like they owe me anything either.” He shrugs. “So consider it forgotten. And stop following me.” He pushes through the front doors and out onto the street.

You start after him again, but you stumble on your way out the door, falling almost directly into the bouncer’s well-muscled arms, one of which is adorned in a full sleeve of tattoos that recedes under the sleeve of his black t-shirt. “Careful,” he says, steadying you on your feet.

“Um – thank you,” you manage. “That guy I was following. Did you see where he went?”

“Down there.” He points you toward the taxi stand. “He’s not bothering you, is he?”

“No, it’s just – I need to talk to him, but he keeps running away from me.” You march wobbily toward the man from before. “Hey! You!”

He sighs resignedly and turns around. “Do you make a habit of following random men out of nightclubs?”

“Only when they do me favors and won’t let me pay them back.” You plant yourself in front of him, arms crossed.

“Look, I told you not to worry about it.” He scowls. “Do you really want to do something for me? Go home, pay your credit card bill, and forget you ever met me. You’ll only hurt yourself if you don’t.”

“Suppose I don’t want to.” You gaze defiantly into his eyes. “Is that a threat?”

“No. It’s a warning. I’d listen if I were you.” A taxi pulls up, and he grabs you by the arm, firmly, but loose enough that you could break away if you needed to, and pushes you inside. “Go home.” The door slams, leaving him standing there on the sidewalk.

“Well?” says the driver impatiently. “Where to?”

You stammer out your address, still too stunned to think about anything else. Who was that guy? And what was that about a warning? He doesn’t seem like a bad person – why else would he have paid a stranger’s bar tab?

Forget you ever met me. You’ll get hurt if you don’t.

Why did he say that? You don’t know why, and you’re still far too drunk to figure it out tonight, but one thing is for certain.

You’re going to track him down. And you’re going to pay him back.

Jungkook whistles as Yoongi heads back toward him. “That was a close one.”

“Too close,” mutters Yoongi. “She could have blown the whole thing.”

“What did you do, anyway? Weren’t you supposed to be blending in?”

Yoongi shrugs. “The bartender was harassing her about her tab and her card wouldn’t go through, so I paid it for her. She wanted to repay me.” He thinks back to the look on your face, like you were about to burst into tears at any moment. A strange, unfamiliar surge of protectiveness in his chest, one that he hadn’t felt since he’d recruited Jungkook all those years ago. ”I told her she didn’t have to, but.”

“Aww.” Jungkook slaps Yoongi good-naturedly on the shoulder. “See, hyung? You’re a good guy after all.”

“Hah,” he scoffs under his breath. “No. I’ve just gotten soft, that’s all. I’ll probably regret it in a day or two. No good deed goes unpunished and all that.”

“You say ‘soft’ like it’s a bad thing.”

“Maybe not, maybe so.” Yoongi sighs, running a hand through his hair. “We should get back to work. We’ll stick around here until closing, then debrief in the morning.”

“All right.” Jungkook nods, resuming his post near the front doors, despite the sidewalk in front of the club now empty at one o’clock, an hour before closing. “I’ll be here.”

Yoongi heads back inside, his head still filled with thoughts of you, that defiant expression on your face when you’d asked him what would happen if you refused to forget him. Anyone else would have just accepted this good deed and carried on as if nothing had even happened, or worse, they would have screamed at him, told him he was overstepping and a creep, to fuck off and leave them alone. Why hadn’t you screamed at him? He’d even grabbed you, a stranger – and a woman – by the arm to push you into the cab. Yoongi knew for sure he’d overstepped there. You just didn’t do that when you were a man, not in this day and age – especially not when you were a man with a past like his. Even someone as supposedly stupid as he was knew that much. Why, he wondered, were you so intent on repaying him? Had no one ever done anything nice for you before? Purely for the hell of it, never expecting anything in return? The two of you must have something in common, then. No one had ever done anything like this for him – with the exception of Hoseok – but that was different. Hoseok was his friend, for one thing, and didn't understand the concept of taking no for an answer. At least Yoongi knew to just say thank you and get on with his life, instead of trying to push it. A chuckle rises in the back of his throat before he can stop it, and he swallows it down almost as quickly as it came, shoving aside the thoughts of you along with it.

He tucks his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he forges back into the depths of the club. There was something about you, something that made you want to insist upon repaying a random man that had just done you a favor, something innocent, idealistic, even, that made him want to protect you. Something that made him want to know you, even if it was only as friends, to explore your thoughts, to live inside your head for just a day, to find out just what, exactly, was going on in there. But he would never allow himself to get close enough to discover what that was – or risk you doing the same. Someone like him and someone like you – that could be dangerous.

Especially someone like you.

As it’s beginning to turn out, tracking down your angel in black – that’s what you’ve been calling him – is far easier said than done. Somehow you’d stumbled up to your apartment after the cab dropped you off, and from there you’d somehow managed to let yourself inside and fall face-first into your bed, where you’d slept soundly until late the next morning, awakening with a pounding head and a foggy recollection of the man from last night, convinced the whole thing had to have been a dream and that your credit card, at this very moment, was probably stashed behind the counter of that bar. Or so you thought, because it’s definitely there when you go to check your wallet. That man, the angel in black – he was definitely real – and that means his warning was real too. The only problem is…you don’t have his name, and the only thing you can remember was that he was dark-haired and wearing all black – which could be literally any man in Seoul. Now it’s Wednesday, a week later, and you’re staring at your screen, open to a browser window that’s now littered with the failed remnants of your search, and rest your chin on your hand with a sigh. Ugh, what was I even thinking? How am I going to find some guy on the internet when I don’t even know his name and I can barely remember what he looks like? Talk about a needle in a haystack. You’re supposed to be working, as in, doing your actual job, but you haven’t been able to focus all week, and you've been off your game since that night.

“What are you so laser-focused on over here?” comes Jimin’s lightly chiding voice from over your shoulder. His sudden appearance makes you jump and knock your hand into your half empty mug, causing a small wave of tepid coffee to slosh onto your desk.

“Damn it, Jimin, you scared me!” You hurriedly reach for the wad of napkins you keep in the top drawer of your desk. “Don’t sneak up on me like that. You know I startle easily.”

“Sorry.” Jimin grins mischievously and leans in to take a closer look at your screen. “Y/n, are you seriously still looking for your mystery man? It’s been a week. You know, if he wanted you to find him he would have at least told you his name. Or slipped you his number. He was probably just being nice. People do that sometimes. Like on those hidden camera shows where little kids will ask you to help them cross the street or tie their shoes. Just accept it and move on already. He’s clearly not that worried about it. You said he had a black card, right? That kind of money is probably nothing to him.”

You finish mopping up the coffee and heave another sigh, sitting back in your chair. “I know It’s stupid. And I’m definitely wasting my time. But he saved my ass in a really big way. I can’t just move on like nothing happened. There has to be some way for me to pay him back. And besides…” You debate whether you should tell Jimin what he told you before he shoved you into a taxi. “He told me to just forget I ever met him, that I’d get hurt if I didn’t. I know it’s a bad idea to keep looking at this point, but you can’t just say something like that and expect me to forget about it. It only makes me want to find him even more.”

"That’s a weird thing for anyone to say," says Jimin, leaning against your desk, "but I suppose that's your choice, even if I do think you’re only setting yourself up for disappointment."

"Thank you for the vote of support." You run your hands backwards through your hair and hum thoughtfully. "I guess I could always not pay my credit card bill and hope that it summons him out of the abyss to save my ass again."

"Then he'll think you're trying to scam him instead of repaying him.” Jimin pats your shoulder. "Cheer up, y/n. Maybe you'll find him. Maybe you won't. But we've got a meeting about the new skincare line in about…" He checks his watch. "...two minutes? And they'll kill us if we're both late so maybe put a pin in that for now?"

Of course, your actual job, the main reason you're able to have a credit card in the first place. "Shit, you're right. I completely forgot about that." You stand and gather your meeting materials into your arms. "What would I do without you, Park Jimin?"

"Mm, probably lose your job?" He straightens up and smirks.

"Mean." You slap him lightly on the arm. "I wouldn't even be looking for this guy if you and Nayeon hadn't ditched and left me with your billion dollar bar tab."

Jimin chuckles. "Okay, true, but need I remind you that you were responsible for most of it anyway?" He makes a tutting noise as you're walking down the hall. "Honestly, it's unnatural how much alcohol you can put away.”

"Please," you scoff, pushing open the door to the conference room. "I just have a high tolerance. It takes practice. You’ll get there one day."

“God, I hope not.” Jimin looks horrified at the prospect. “No offense.”

The meeting drags on, well into the afternoon, and your mind continues to wander in the direction of your angel in black, no matter how hard you try to pay attention to the subject at hand. Normally you’d be rapt with attention – skincare is your area of expertise, after all, and it’s been your dream to work at a cosmetics company ever since high school – but for the life of you, you just can’t seem to shake him from your memory and focus on your work.

Wait. The bouncer. He was standing there the whole time you were arguing with the guy. That sleeve of tattoos was pretty distinctive-looking; you’d definitely remember it if you saw it again. It would be way easier to find him than the guy in black. And he works there. He’s more likely to be there than the other guy. Maybe he remembers something you don’t.

As soon as the meeting ends, you hurry back to your desk, intent on getting all of today’s work finished by the time it hits six o’clock so you won’t have to work late, and spend the rest of the afternoon in a state of hyperfocus, only noticing that time has passed when you see that most of your coworkers are getting ready to leave. “Jimin.” You sidle up to him as he’s shrugging into his coat. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Probably just going to head home and—” He stops and narrows his eyes. “You’re up to something, aren’t you? Is this still about that guy?”

“I was thinking we could go back to that club,” you say earnestly. “There was this bouncer outside, and – well, I don’t really remember what he looked like either, but I’d know him if I saw him. I’m sure of it. I want to ask him if he remembers anything from last week. Maybe he knows something about this guy.”

“Y/n, it's Wednesday." Jimin says. “That place is going to be dead. I doubt anyone will be there, let alone your mystery man.”

You make your best pouting expression. “You’ll come with me, right? For moral support?”

“Fine.” Jimin sighs. “If it'll get you to stop fixating on this guy, I'm all for it. But you're buying me dinner.”

You throw your arms around him. "Jimin-ssi, have I ever told you you're my favorite person in the whole wide world?"

"On multiple occasions.” He smirks. “This is the first time you've ever been sober, though."

“Wow. See if I ever buy you dinner again.”

The club, as Jimin predicted, was nearly empty, with only a few clumps of people dancing here and there, a handful of people at the bar, and a completely different, tattoo-less bouncer working the front door, who seemed to think the man with the tattoos was a temp.

“There’s nobody like that working here!” he bellowed back to you, over the thumping music. “Your guy’s probably a temp!”

“No, I’m positive!” you shouted. “It was here. I tripped going out the door and he caught me. I’d know him if I saw him. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure!” he said. “Would you mind stepping away from the door? People are trying to come inside.” You didn’t hang around much longer after that, figuring that if neither the bouncer nor your mystery man were there now they probably wouldn’t be there later either.

“Well, that was a bust,” comments Jimin, once you’re back in a cab on the way home.

You blow out a frustrated breath. “Yeah. Sorry to drag you all the way over here for nothing.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” he says. “That’s what friends are for, right? At least I got dinner out of it.”

“Ha, ha, ha.” You roll your eyes. “I knew I should have just waited ‘til the weekend. I was just so excited to test my theory that I jumped the gun a little.”

Jimin frowns. “Don’t tell me you’re planning on making another special trip back over here to look for this guy.”

“Well…I was.” You turn to look at him, taken aback. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“Y/n…” Jimin sighs. “I'm your best friend and I love you, but…don’t you think you’re going too far with this? You don’t think maybe it’s time to move on? I mean, what if this guy really is dangerous, like he said? What if you get hurt?”

You scoff a little. “Would a dangerous person really come right out and say they’re dangerous?”

“Yes. That’s absolutely what a dangerous person would say. Please let this go, y/n. I’m begging you. For your own good. The universe will forgive you this one time for not paying that guy back.”

"I know, but…" I won't. You sigh. "One more time, Jimin. I have to try one more time before I can tell myself I did everything I could."

"Okay. One more time." Jimin's face softens. "But I'm going to hold you to that. No more midweek club nights, internet searches, whatever. You have to let this go because it’s weird that you’re still hung up on this."

"I promise. One more time, and then no more. If I don't find him this time, I'm done."

"Good. Be careful, okay?"

"When am I not careful?" Your best friend raises an eyebrow and squints at you with the most skeptical of sideways glances, probably armed and ready with at least a dozen examples of how you’ve most decidedly not been careful in the past few years you’ve known each other. "That was rhetorical, Jimin. Drop the judgy look, please."

“What judgy look?” he demands. “This is just my face.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

If Wednesday night’s visit was bad, then Saturday’s is even worse. It’s crowded, almost as crowded as it was the very first night the man in black saved your ass, with barely any good vantage points to park yourself and people-watch in hopes of catching a glance of your mystery man. You should have taken the other bouncer’s inability – or reluctance – to tell you anything about his tattooed coworker the other night as a warning – because it’s obvious that no one else is going to tell you anything about him either, for one reason or another. You’ve asked bartenders, waitresses, anyone who looks like they work there, and all that’s gotten you is in trouble with management.

“We’re not allowed to give out that kind of information about our employees.” The manager’s eyes narrow. “Stop nosing around before you get yourself banned. Permanently.” With one final scowl he stalks off.

I guess that’s it, then, you think. You let out a sigh as you sit back down at the bar. God, what was I thinking? I never had any chance of finding this guy, not in a million years. Jimin was right. Why did I drag this out so long? It's time for me to move on. As soon as I finish this drink, I’ll walk out of this club and I’ll never think about him again. I’ll go home, and I’ll catch up on all that work I’m behind on because of him. No, I’ll get ahead. Yeah. That’ll show them. Part of you wants to feel relieved, but the realization only makes you feel dejected. Damn. I really wanted to meet him. You get to your feet, and collect your things, taking one last glance around the room.

That’s when you see him.

Your angel in black, drinking whiskey in the corner. Same black suit, same heavy bangs, same blank expression. Right as you’re about to leave and never look back, you just happen to see him? It’s too coincidental to be anything other than fate.

You draw a deep breath, steel your nerves, and march up to his table. “And to think I was just going to walk right past you and out of this place forever. It's almost like the universe wanted us to meet again." You pull out the chair across from him and sit down. “You know, I never did catch your name.”

“That’s because I never dropped it,” he says dryly. “What are you doing here again? Didn’t I tell you to mind your own business?”

“What, can’t a girl drink where she likes anymore?” You lean in. “Who says I’m here to mind your business? I’m busy minding my own. Which, as it turns out, happens to involve you – and making sure you get something in return for covering my ass that night. Thank you, by the way. You barely let me get it out last time.”

He scoffs, sitting back. “I told you to forget about it. I didn’t spot you because I expected you to pay me back.”

“Why did you do it, then?” You cock your head to one side. “There must have been some reason you felt like rescuing a damsel in distress. Nobody does anything without a reason.”

The question seems to catch him off-guard for a moment, before he quickly regains his composure. “Why does it matter?” He stares down into his glass. “You don’t know anything about me. I could be dangerous for all you know. Like I've been trying to tell you this whole time.” Dangerous. There’s that word again.

“Well, you can’t be all that bad, or you wouldn’t have helped me out. And besides,” you muse, “if you were going to do anything to me you probably would have done it already.”

“Suppose that’s true.” One side of his mouth twitches, almost imperceptibly.

“Then again, maybe it is like you said. Maybe you aren’t a good person. But I don’t think that necessarily makes you a bad person. And I don’t think you would have done anything to me, even if you did have the chance. Which you did, the other night.”

A hard laugh escapes from his lips. "Clearly you haven't been listening to anything I've been saying. Because you definitely wouldn't be saying that if you really knew me.”

You purse your lips thoughtfully. “Well, you know, I have this theory. Everyone has a color, right? Some people you can just tell whether they’re one way or another, black, white, whatever. But you…well, I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

“Hah. I’ve heard that one before.” The man avoids looking at you and stares down at the table, features set in an unreadable expression. “So, what color am I, then?”

“Mm.” You grin. “First impression? Silver.”

“Silver, huh?” He smirks. “Why silver?”

“On the surface you’re a very gray person. Kind of an enigma. You’re not black and you’re not white, you’re somewhere in between, which makes you gray. But on closer inspection, anyone can see there’s something different about you that sparkles a little bit. Something that shines.” His face doesn’t move. “It’s just a theory, anyway,” you say hastily. “I’d have to get to know you a little better before I could really say for sure.”

“What makes you think that’s going to happen?” An eyebrow quirks just slightly.

“Hm. You seem like the type who would have gotten up and left already if you weren’t at least a little bit interested in me, even if you came off as rude. And you’re still here, so you must be somewhat intrigued, right?”

“That’s a compelling theory – but you're wrong. I might be an asshole but I'm not that kind of asshole.” He leans back, an arm draped over the back of the booth. “Anyways, before I answer your question, let me ask you one of my own: why are you so hellbent on paying me back to the point where you thought you had to track me down?”

“You know, I’m not sure myself.” You rest your chin in your palm. “It just feels like the thing to do, that’s all. Most of the time strangers tend to either ignore me or glare at me when this kind of thing happens. You probably think I’m a mess. I know I do. I also know from experience that I can only ever count on my friends to have my back, so imagine my surprise when you, a random stranger, had my back the other night. You did something only my friends ever do for me.” You shrug nonchalantly. “And I always repay my friends.”

“All right,” he says after a moment. “I won’t say I’m not at least a little impressed that you even found me. And now that you have…I’m guessing you’re not going to leave me alone until I give you what you want.” The whiskey swirls in his glass, resting in one long, slender hand. “Which is?”

“Dinner,” you say, boldly, without hesitating. “Or drinks, at least. I know I probably can’t afford what you’re used to. Obviously, considering the other night…but let me treat you sometime. Just to say thank you. Honestly, I’m a great date. Really. Or I should be." You sigh. "I've been on a lot, so I've had plenty of practice. But I promise I’ll make it worth your while. I even paid off my credit card. Just for you.”

He releases a resigned sigh and sets his glass down. “Okay. Say I agree, even though you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into and I definitely shouldn’t indulge you any further than I already have. Will you stop following me around if I do?”

“That depends. Are you going to ghost me as soon as it’s over?”

“Now that,” he says, “depends on whether or not you’re as good of a date as you say you are.”

“Oh, I’m positively delightful. Excellent conversationalist. Top-notch table manners. I won’t even stick you with the check this time. Best night of your life, guaranteed. Or top-ten, at least.”

He pauses, looking like he might regret what he’s about to say. “Fine. We can have dinner. On one condition.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“You really have to stop following me around.” His expression turns dark. “It’s not a good idea for you to get involved with me. You could get hurt.”

“This again?” You sigh. “Let’s just see how dinner goes, and then I’ll decide if you’re worth any more of my time.”

“You’ll decide, huh?” He eyes you. “You don’t even know my name.”

“I don’t know your name yet,” you correct him, “and that’s only because you haven’t told me what it is.”

“Yoongi,” he says finally, after a moment of hesitation. A tinge of amusement plays across his features. “Min Yoongi.”

“Yoongi,” you repeat. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Yoongi. I’m Y/n. Y/n L/n.” You extend a hand across the table.

“Y/n,” he says, giving your hand a firm shake. It’s cool and dry, and you spot the barest remains of a scar on his palm as he pulls his hand away. “Only time will tell whether I’m going to be able to say the same for you.”

“Mm.” You shrug. “I think you’ll be surprised.”

“Like I said.” Yoongi gets to his feet, taking his glass with him. “Anyway. I have some business to take care of. Can you get out of here on your own, or are you going to be needing my help again?”

“I’ll be fine, but – wait, I didn’t give you my number. How are we going to get in touch?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He looks down at you and smirks, the unmistakable hint of a sparkle somewhere in those soft, dark eyes. “You seem to think we’re fated, so I’m sure we’ll run into each other again if we’re really meant to. We’ve exchanged names now.” Yoongi raises his glass slightly. “You can find out a lot about a person from just a name.”

“Hey, wait a—” Yoongi is gone before you can finish your sentence, swallowed up by the dense crowds of the club. “He still didn’t answer my question,” you mutter.

But despite all that – you have a hopeful feeling about the whole situation.

"Yoongi," you repeat. "Who are you, Min Yoongi?"

The silence in Yoongi’s office the next morning is nearly palpable, the air between him and Jungkook filled with the sounds of clicking keys as they’re finishing up their paperwork on the case at the club. Even without looking he can sense the younger man eyeing him over the top of his laptop screen. Yoongi heaves a resigned sigh. “Spit it out, Jungkook. I can practically hear the gears grinding inside that giant head of yours.”

Jungkook stops typing and leans forward, grinning in a suspiciously sunny manner. “I was just noticing how good of a mood you’re in today, boss,” he says. “Better than you’ve been in months.”

"Bullshit I am." Yoongi’s eyes don’t move. “You're imagining things."

“You are too!” Jungkook insists. “I told you good morning on my way in and you didn’t even tell me to stop bothering you and get to work.” He squints at Yoongi. “You said it back to me. And you weren’t even being sarcastic about it.”

“So I said good morning to you. Once. Big deal. I’ve been known to be cordial every once in a while, haven’t I?”

“But you’re never cordial with me,” insists Jungkook. “You're cordial with clients. And people who are gonna give you money. Normally it’s all grunts and scowling when you talk to me. Something good happened last night, didn’t it? I saw you chatting with that girl, the one you paid the bar tab for last week. She managed to track you down, huh?” He’s not going to let this go easily. He’s like a dog with a chew toy whenever he finds an interesting enough tidbit to hang onto.

Yoongi suppresses a sigh and presses his fingers to the sides of his temples. “Yeah, and? What are you getting at?”

“Oh, nothing.” He plasters an innocent-looking expression on his face. “She went through all of that trouble to track you down when most people would have just let it go. She must like you. Seems like you like her too.”

Yoongi snorts. “Y/n? Flighty, irresponsible, doesn’t even know her own limits, so impulsive that the first thing she thinks of when a man does something nice for her is to follow him out into the street y/n? No way in hell.”

“And you, a guy who’s so cautious, practical, and down to earth that he never does anything without thinking about it for weeks?” notes Jungkook. “All I’m hearing is that you’d be perfect for each other. Opposites attract, you know?”

“The worst thing she could do would be to get involved with me,” Yoongi scoffs. “Trust me. It’s not happening.” He rolls a pen back and forth in his hand. “It’s not like that, anyway. She said she’d leave me alone if I let her do this. She doesn’t like me, she just feels like she owes me. That’s all. I’m just humoring her so she’ll leave me alone.”

“Uh-huh.” Jungkook smirks. “You do like her, don’t you?”

“I didn’t say that,” grumbles Yoongi. “Why don’t you mind your own business for once?”

“In case you’ve forgotten, hyung,” says Jungkook, still grinning, “you left me in charge of minding your business for the past six months. You know, while you were off the grid camping in the middle of nowhere?”

“Yeah, and I’m starting to regret it,” he mutters. “Humor me and let it go. It’s too early for this shit.”

“All right, fine.” Jungkook turns his eyes back to his screen, but it doesn’t last for long. “So when are you going to see her again?”

“We didn’t set a firm—” Yoongi’s eyes narrow, pinning Jungkook with a searing glare. “Hey. I’ll fire you if you don’t watch yourself.”

“Ah, go ahead and fire me, then,” Jungkook says cheerfully. “I’d like to see how well you manage without me covering your ass.”

Yoongi flings the pen in his hand across the table, aiming for Jungkook’s head, who easily dodges it. “Aish, you’ve gotten cocky since I left. I managed just fine on my own before you got here, thank you. You were the one who came bitching to me about how much you needed me to come back, weren’t you? This case that you just couldn't handle by yourself, even though you've probably handled about a dozen of the exact same type of cases all by yourself?”

“Come on!” snorts Jungkook. “We both know you were ready to come back. I just needed to make you feel good about yourself so you’d actually get off your ass and do it. You should be thanking me, hyung.”

“Thanking you?” demands Yoongi. “What the hell should I be thanking you for?”

“I think you know.” Jungkook’s eyebrows dance suggestively, eyes twinkling. “Y/n – she’s pretty, isn't she?”

“That’s it. You’re getting demoted.”

“Okay, okay.” Jungkook falls silent suddenly before he speaks again. “I missed you, boss. Good to have you back.”

“Ah, shut up,” Yoongi snaps. “And get back to work. These reports aren’t going to write themselves, you know.”

Jungkook turns his attention back to his computer screen again, eyeing Yoongi’s scowl with a knowing smirk. Yeah. He totally likes her.

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