#i should write a second part where u have sex with him ...

[hatkuu]

thinking about android kylar

warnings: robot/android stuff, any compsci nerds don't slander me for misusing your terminology ehhjfjsfs

Kylar returns your gaze, empty eyed and emotionless.

You can't stand it.

Sure, you originally bought him for security purposes—he was indeed an ai that specialised in surveying and property protection—but you felt horrible that he never even once smiled at you.

You're beginning to doubt that you bought him solely for security purposes. Maybe deep down, you were just lonely.

Always calculating your every movement, Kylar's pupils flicker from your face to your hands—probably some body language algorithm he's programmed to have–he stops once he comes to a conclusion on your mood.

"You're upset."

You scoff, rolling your eyes and leaning against the kitchen counter, staring back at the robot with a scowl that puts an elderly woman to shame, wordlessly saying 'obviously, you pre-programmed idiot.'

"Well, duh. You don't do anything! I spent like, $12,000 dollars for you to just sit around and look pretty!"

Kylar raises an eyebrow.

Something so simple and so human that it makes your heart slam against your ribs with each accelerated beat.

It's exciting.

"I monitor the premises and ensure you are not hurt. Despite the break-ins in your immediate area, your home remains unscathed. Am I not performing to your standards? If there are any issues you wish to voice—"

"God, don't spout that shit at me! Can't you just—I don't know—Have a conversation with me?"

Kylar blinks. Stares at you for a second longer than usual, the chips in his head working in tandem to create a solution to this new, grandiose problem. His hands twitch at his sides, and you're worried you might've broken him.

"A... conversation?"

You nod.

"Humans have conversations all the time, Kylar. Why can't you?"

Kylar's pupils dilate.

You've never seen that happen before.

"Are you... lonely?"

Coming from anyone else you would've responded with a slap across the face... But the word 'lonely' coming from your android is a completely different story.

You look down, gnawing at your bottom lip as Kylar's gaze never falters.

"I guess... I mean, I know you're for security and not companionship but—"

"I can be for companionship."

You pause, mouth agape at his quick response. You sound pleasantly surprised when you respond:

"You can?"

Kylar smiles. It's small and tight-lipped, clearly unpracticed and unused, but it's there.

"What would you like to talk about?"

[angelsuecult]

champagne coast | s. crosby

“on my last strength against you

baby, tell me what you need”

warnings: smut w/ plot, explicit sexual content, MDNI, 18+, NSFW, smut

summary: Sidney isn’t yours, and you aren’t his, but in moments like these it’s easier to pretend that there’s something besides the sex.

request: would love a sidney fucking u to tears fic!!! no pressure but wuld be so tasty in ur style !! love ur work :)

word count: 10.2k

song: champagne coast - blood orange

a/n: still working on perfect places, trying to make it better because I hate how I ended up writing it out, have a few more in the drafts waiting to be released but I hope you enjoy this one! original asker don’t hesitate to reach out if you hate/love it! enjoy guys <3

—

Your apartment was quiet when you got home. Golden hour had started to settle over the buildings outside your window—burning up the edges of the skyline in that soft, buttery light. You dropped your keys in the dish by the door, slid your shoes off with your toe, and moved on autopilot toward the couch like your body already knew what it needed.

The cushions sighed under your weight as you flopped back, arm tossed over your eyes. The kind of tired that clung to your skin, that post-work haze where you’re not really thinking, just being. You weren’t even gonna check your phone at first—not until you heard it ding on the coffee table.

Twice.

Pause.

Then once more.

That tone. You knew that text tone. Because you were a stupid girl with your read receipts off and a custom tone setting for his texts. Like a dumb little Pavlovian dog.

You cracked one eye open. Reached over with a lazy arm. Unlocked the screen. And—yep.

Sidney [6:03 PM]: You home?

Just two words. No emoji, no punctuation. But it still did that thing to you. That tight twist low in your stomach, the flutter in your chest that you hated admitting was real.

You stared at it for a second longer than you should have.

He knew he was gonna get a reply. That’s the worst part. That’s the part that made you wanna roll your eyes and smile at the same time. Because he’d been doing this long enough to know that he had you. Not in a bad way. But in the stupid, heady, chemical brain-melt kind of way.

You sat up just enough to type back.

You [6:05 PM]: Unfortunately yeah. Couchbound.

A minute passed. Another buzz.

Sidney [6:06 PM]: That a complaint?

You snorted. Typical smug shit. You shifted back into the corner of the couch, one leg bent under you, phone warm in your hand now.

You [6:06 PM]: Couchbound = no pants. So. I’ll let you decide.

Sidney [6:07 PM]: Jesus christ

Sidney [6:07 PM]: I’m in a team meeting right now

You laughed. Full-on. Head back against the cushion, warmth rushing up the back of your neck like you were nineteen again. It shouldn’t still feel like this. Not when you’ve known him for over a year. Not when he’s flown you out to Pittsburgh more times than you can count. Not when you’ve already had him in your bed and his.

But it did.

He always knew how to hit the gas.

You [6:08 PM]: Mmm. Hope you’re not sitting near the coaches.

Sidney [6:09 PM]: You trying to make me pop a boner during film review?

You [6:09 PM]: I would never

You [6:10 PM]: I just think it’d be really funny if your laptop was in your lap

He didn’t reply right away. You imagined him in that room with his team, the blue light of the projector flickering across his face, jaw tight, mouth twitching like he’s trying not to smile. One hand on his phone under the table, the other probably running along his thigh.

Probably thinking about your legs, too. How they always look when you’re curled up on your sofa.

And then:

Sidney [6:14 PM]: You have any plans tomorrow?

You sat up straighter. That was quick.

And that... that was the start of it.

Because this was always the rhythm.

Light talk. Dirty joke. And then that switch. The one you both recognized before either of you said anything out loud.

He’d be here tomorrow. You knew that. You’d looked it up weeks ago. Like a fucking idiot. You even marked it on your calendar in a soft little dot—like it was a dentist appointment or some other innocent shit.

You [6:14 PM]: Oh, I dunno. Might wash my hair. Might ride a hockey player. Who’s to say.

It took him no time at all.

Sidney [6:14 PM]: I’ll come see you

Sidney [6:15 PM]: Same place?

You bit the inside of your cheek.

God, he really was a sweet-talking menace. It was in the way he didn’t ask—he knew. You weren’t gonna say no. You never said no. Not to him. Not when he looked at you like he did. Not when his voice dropped just slightly over the phone when he called you late at night, and you knew he was alone in his room, whispering just for you.

You [6:15PM]: You gonna knock like a gentleman or just let yourself in again?

Sidney [6:16 PM]: That depends

Sidney [6:16 PM]: You want me to be a gentleman?

You [6:17 PM]: Not even a little bit.

Your heart was beating faster now. The apartment was still quiet, but your body wasn’t still anymore. You sat forward, legs curled tighter beneath you, your other hand flexing restlessly at your side.

Another buzz.

Sidney [6:18 PM]: I’ve been thinking about you for days

Sidney [6:18 PM]: Thought about you this morning in the shower

Sidney [6:19 PM]: I’d say that’s pretty rude of you

You closed your eyes. Leaned back again. Breathed out slow.

It was always like this before he came to town. This haunting build-up. Like his presence arrived ahead of him. You could already feel him in your space—already smell the fabric softener he used that clung to your sheets. You hadn’t washed the pillowcase from the last time he was here. That stupid, dumb part of you had just left it.

You [6:20 PM]: I’ve been sleeping on your side of the bed.

You [6:20 PM]: I think it misses you.

Another pause. A longer one this time.

You imagined his face again. That unreadable stare he gets sometimes—too much behind his eyes. You’ve seen it after games, after goals, after wins and losses.

And then:

Sidney [6:24 PM]: Do you miss me?

Your stomach flipped.

God, he always did this. Said one little thing that made you feel like you’d been cracked wide open. And it wasn’t even fair, because he’d follow it up with something filthy and ruin it anyway.

But this time you just answered honestly.

Because fuck it.

You did.

You [6:25 PM]: Yeah.

You [6:26 PM]: I do.

No emoji. No jokes.

Just the truth.

And then you waited.

You waited in that too-still room, with the sun still sinking outside and the buzz of the fridge the only sound for a minute. And when your phone lit up again, your chest actually ached.

Sidney [6:30 PM]: Sleep over?

You smiled. God, you were so screwed.

Because Sidney Crosby, face of the fucking league, was texting you like a teenage boyfriend.

And you loved it.

You absolutely loved it.

You [6:31 PM]: You bringin’ pajamas this time? Or just the abs?

Sidney [6:32 PM]: Just the abs. Maybe a toothbrush.

Sidney [6:32 PM]: Gotta keep the tongue clean for you.

You groaned. Actually groaned aloud, dropped your head back and muttered, “This fucking guy.”

But yeah.

You were shaving tomorrow.

You were shaving everything.

[9:56 PM]

The next time you heard from him you were already in bed and he called.

Not texted. Called.

Your phone lit up beside you, and your stomach jumped like it always did. You stared at his name for a second—Sidney—before you thumbed it to your ear.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

His voice was low. Rough like he’d just cleared his throat, or maybe like he’d been talking a lot all day and was winding down. “You’re in bed already?”

You smiled to yourself, turning on your side and tucking the blanket up to your shoulder. “Yeah. You keeping tabs now?”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “No. Just picturing you. That’s all.”

“Mmm.” You rolled your eyes and let your voice go soft. “Are you picturing pajamas, or are you picturing lingerie I don’t even own?”

“Oh, you own it,” he said. “You’re just pretending you don’t so I’ll come buy it for you.”

You grinned. “Now that’s a good idea.”

There was a pause on his end. Just quiet, heavy breathing. Like he was letting himself imagine it. You knew that sound well. Knew it from nights just like this—when he was on the other end of the phone in a hotel room somewhere and you were in your bed, a city and a timezone away.

“What’re you wearing?” he asked, voice a little softer now. Like he couldn’t help it.

You laughed. “Are you serious right now?”

“Dead serious.”

You pulled the blanket tighter, suddenly aware of how bare your legs were, how thin your tank top felt against your chest. “Okay fine,” you murmured. “T-shirt. No bra. Underwear. Kinda useless ones.”

He groaned. “Fuck.”

You smirked. “What, not the answer you wanted?”

“It’s exactly the answer I wanted. Which is the problem.”

You could hear the smile in his voice now. That slow-building tension. Like he was relaxing into it, settling in for the game you always played.

“You still in your meeting?” you asked.

“No,” he said. “I’m in my room. Lights off. Lying on my back thinking about you.”

Your thighs clenched without you meaning to. That voice—his voice—always did that. Soft and low and a little scratchy like he’d been talking for too long. You could picture him perfectly. His hair messy. One arm behind his head. Shirtless, probably.

And you were what he was thinking about.

Which was insane.

Still. After all this time. That he wanted you like that.

“What part of me, specifically?” you teased. “Because I’ve got a lot of real estate.”

Sid laughed quietly. “You want me to go top-down or bottom-up?”

“Top-down. Let’s be classy.”

He hummed. “Mouth. First. Obviously.”

You smiled, warm now under the covers. “Because of my sweet personality?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking about what it looks like when you take me deep.”

You covered your mouth and kicked your leg out under the blanket. “You’re disgusting.”

“You asked.”

“I did.”

He let the silence stretch for a beat. Like he could feel you on the other end of the line, warm and squirming, trying not to smile too hard.

“I miss your face,” he added softly. “And your laugh. And your mouth, obviously. And your back.”

“My back?”

“Yeah.” He exhaled, slow. “That curve, just above your ass. Where I rest my hand when I’m behind you.”

You blinked up at the ceiling, breath caught in your throat. There it was again—that thing he did. The way he could go from filthy to fond in a heartbeat. The way he didn’t even try to hide that he paid attention. That he missed you. Even if he didn’t always say it outright.

“You’re too good at this,” you said, voice quieter now.

“I know,” he whispered. “I’ve had a lot of practice with you.”

“You better not have practice with anyone else.”

He chuckled. “Jealous?”

You paused. “Should I be?”

Another pause. His voice dropped.

“No.”

And god. That one-word answer sent a shiver down your spine.

“I don’t have time for anyone else,” he added. “And if I did… they wouldn’t be you.”

It was quiet for a second. Just your breath in your own ears. His, soft and steady.

“Now I’m really not gonna be able to sleep,” you whispered.

“Why?”

“Because my brain’s gonna loop this conversation until morning.”

“That’s fair,” he murmured. “You want me to help wear you out when I get there?”

Your cheeks burned. “You offering cardio?”

“I’m offering a full-body workout. Legs shaking. Sheets ruined. The usual.”

You covered your face with your arm and let out the softest groan. “Jesus Christ, Sid.”

He smiled against the speaker. “What?”

“You’re annoying.”

“And you love it.”

You did. God, you did.

“You landing tomorrow?”

“Yep,” he said. “I’ll text you when. You want me to pick you up, or you wanna meet at yours first?”

You considered. “Meet at mine, I’ve still got work in the morning.”

“Good,” he said, voice thick with promise. “Because I’m gonna be thinking about you all morning.”

You let the silence sit there, heavy and warm.

And then finally: “Goodnight, Sid.”

“Goodnight, baby.”

Your heart did that dumb flip again.

“Sleep well.”

“You too. Dream of me.”

“I always do.”

[9:48 AM]

You weren’t exactly a stellar employee that next morning.

You spent the entire fucking day trying not to look like you were waiting for a text.

Your phone was face-down on your desk, but that didn’t mean shit. You still checked it every ten minutes like a girl in high school who hadn’t outgrown the crush phase. You were pathetic. And the worst part? You didn’t even care.

It had started as a trickle—just a few messages while you were brushing your teeth this morning. You weren’t even fully dressed, still in the oversized tee you’d slept in, when you saw the first one.

Sidney [8:34 AM]: Just landed.

Then another:

Sidney [8:35 AM]: I haven’t even seen you yet and I’m already hard. Do something about that.

You’d actually dropped your toothbrush into the sink.

You didn’t answer right away because you knew what kind of spiral you’d tumble into if you did, and also because you had twenty minutes to get your ass out the door and into traffic. You were late. And you didn’t care. Because he was here.

By the time you were halfway through your drive, stuck behind some dickhead in a BMW who couldn’t figure out what a blinker was, he’d sent another one.

Sidney [9:12 AM]: Thinking about staying at your place tonight and ruining you in that bed of yours.

Sidney [9:13 AM]: That okay?

You’d answered yes before your brain even processed it.

Of course he was staying at your place. He always did.

And that was the part that ruined you the most.

He had a hotel room booked. You knew he did. Probably a nice one too, paid for by the team or the league or whatever mysterious arm of professional hockey handled those things. But he never used it. At least, not when you were in town.

Because when Sidney Crosby came to California, he stayed with you.

Every. Time.

And you let him. No questions. No boundaries. No illusions that it meant anything deeper than what it was. But still—he always dropped his bag by your door like he belonged there. Like it was second nature. Like home.

And that? That was the shit that wrecked you.

Not the sex. Not the bruises he left on the inside of your thighs. Not even the soft, stupid way he said your name in the dark like he was afraid it would disappear.

No. It was the quiet little normal things. The way he asked where the toothpaste was. The way he brought his own coffee from Pittsburgh but still used your shitty little French press. The way his voice dropped when he got out of the shower and said “C’mere.” like that was just how he said good morning.

You were supposed to be at work focusing on the spreadsheets on your screen. But your brain was soaked in him.

You stared at your screen for what had to be twenty straight minutes, rereading the same goddamn sentence of an email and imagining what his hands were doing right now. If he was already on the team bus. If he was wearing a suit or one of those Polos that made you feel insane.

Your coworker walked by your desk, snapped her fingers in your face.

“Earth to you. You okay? You’ve been zoning out for like—ten minutes. That email gonna write itself?”

“Yeah. Sorry. Just…” You waved vaguely at your laptop. “Just tired.”

Lie. You were wired.

You shot off the email—barely readable, but who gave a fuck—then finally flipped your phone over.

New message. Of course there was.

Sidney [10:33 AM]: Hotel gave me the wrong keycard. Some poor guy walked in on me changing. Pretty sure he saw dick.

You slapped a hand over your mouth to hide your laugh, eyes stinging from trying to keep it in.

You [10:34 AM]: Poor guy? Sounds like he got a show.

Sid [10:37 AM]: He looked horrified. I might’ve scarred him. You should come fix it.

You [10:37 AM]: Fix it how? Kiss it better?

Sidney [10:38]: God yes. I’ll leave skate early.

You blinked. That wasn’t like him. He was usually pretty strict about team shit, at least when it came to meetings and skates.

You [10:40 AM]: You’re not serious.

Sidney [10:41 AM]: I’m hard. I’m restless. I’m thinking about your skin and your sheets and how good you smell. I’ve got half a mind to fake an illness.

You [10:42 AM] Don’t you dare. You could get benched and it’d be my fault.

Sidney [10:43 AM]: If I’m gonna sit on the bench, might as well be because you made me useless.

You shook your head, smiling. He was impossible. Walking around like he didn’t have you completely fucked up from the inside out.

You [10:56 AM]: You better show up at my door with dinner. You’re not getting any without bringing me food first.

Sidney [10:58 AM]: So that’s the price? A taco tax?

You [10:59 AM]: That and a kiss.

Sidney [11:03 AM]: One kiss? You’re underselling yourself.

You [11:04 AM]: Fine. One kiss, a margarita, and you have to let me use you as a body pillow all night.

Sidney [11:07 AM]: You say that like I’m not into it. I wanna be crushed by your thighs and smothered by your hair.

You [11:09 AM]: I wanna ride your face until you can’t remember your own name.

Sidney [11:13 AM]: I love it when you talk romance to me.

Your thighs clenched under your desk.

Pathetic. You were so pathetic.

You dropped your phone into your lap and took a deep breath. A long one. You had at least four hours left in the workday, and you were about as useful as a wet napkin. All you could think about was his voice. His hands. The look on his face the first time he stepped back into your apartment like it was his.

Because that was the part that killed you the most.

He felt like he belonged. Like he fit there, in your space, beside you in your bed with his socks on and his arm tucked under your neck, face buried in your hair like he was hiding.

You weren’t his.

You never would be.

But every time he looked at you like that—like you were oxygen—it made you want things you had no business wanting. And fuck if it didn’t make the hours crawl by. You wanted him now. Needed him like you needed your next breath.

[4:47 PM]

You knew he was there the second you stepped off the elevator.

Your building always smelled faintly of hallway cleaner and burnt coffee, but tonight? It smelled like him. Like his cologne—subtle, clean, something stupidly expensive that always clung to your sheets long after he left. Like him standing behind you with his chin on your shoulder. Like the warm, dense press of his chest to your back in the middle of the night.

You hadn’t even opened your front door and your stomach was already flipping. You hated it. You loved it.

You unlocked it and pushed it open.

There he was.

Sprawled on your sofa. Hair damp from the shower. Wearing a gray Penguins hoodie with the sleeves shoved up to his forearms, a pair of black athletic shorts that barely reached mid-thigh sitting down, and bare fucking feet on your coffee table like he lived there. Like he belonged.

His bag was by the door, half-unzipped. His phone was in one hand, and there was an empty glass—probably water—on the side table next to him. You noticed the faint smell of his body wash, like cedar and clean skin, already curling in the air like it missed you.

He looked up.

And holy fuck.

Your breath left your chest before you could stop it. He looked like sin. Warm, flushed, relaxed. That look in his eye—like he’d already been thinking about touching you. Like he knew you were gonna let him.

He stood immediately. Didn’t say anything at first, just came to you in three easy strides like his body was already pulling toward yours. Like he didn’t need a reason.

And maybe you should’ve said something. Maybe you should’ve made a joke or pretended to be unaffected. Maybe you should’ve been stronger. You weren’t. You never were with him.

You dropped your bag on the floor, kicked the door shut with your heel, and then—

His hands were already in your hair, his mouth already on yours.

“Fuck,” he breathed, between kisses, as your arms came up around his neck. “Hi, baby.”

It knocked something loose in you, hearing that. Six months without him and now he was here, mouth dragging along your cheekbone, fingers gripping your waist like he didn’t know how to do this gently.

“Hey,” you whispered back, laughing a little from how winded you already were. “Jesus, you couldn’t even wait five seconds?”

“Nope,” he said, unapologetic, already kissing the corner of your mouth again. “You look so fucking good. You smell good. You feel good. I missed you. So much.”

His voice was lower than usual, a little rough. Almost hoarse. Like he’d been thinking about this all day. Like it wasn’t just about getting off—it was about you.

You let your hands slide under the back of his hoodie, skin to skin. He was warm, solid, all lean muscle and broad shoulders and that ridiculous lower back you hated how well you remembered. “You’re damp,” you murmured against his jaw, biting down just a little. “You showered in my shower?”

“You mad about it?”

“Not yet. You leave the towels on the floor again and I will be.”

He grinned against your skin. “Worth it.”

You kissed him again, slower this time. Deeper. Let it linger. Let him part your lips and take his fucking time. Your body was already humming, vibrating like something electric lived under your skin. You wanted him in your bed. In your space. Inside you. Yesterday.

“You still have my key,” you muttered, half against his mouth.

His hands moved to your ass. He squeezed, shameless. “You never asked for it back.”

“You never gave it back.”

“I didn’t wanna lose it,” he said, smiling like a bastard.

You rolled your eyes, but your fingers were already pushing through his hair. Still damp, still soft, still impossibly familiar.

“Have you seriously just been sitting here all cozy on my couch like you live here?”

“I do live here. When I’m in California. I’ve got a toothbrush and everything.”

“You’re such a piece of shit.”

“You love it,” he said, nuzzling into your neck. “God, I missed this neck. Missed the sounds you make when I—”

You slapped his shoulder lightly, laughing. “Sidney.”

“What?” he grinned. “I’ve been good. I haven’t even tried to get my hand down your pants yet.”

“Yet?”

He stepped back, looking at you. Really looking. The kind of look that made your knees weaker than you cared to admit. That look he gave you the first time he’d seen you walk across that bar like you weren’t about to change his whole fucking life.

“You look so fucking good, baby,” he said quietly. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you on the flight. I was hard halfway across the country.”

You snorted. “You’re so gross.”

“And you’re so pretty,” he said, tugging you close again. His hand slid along your waist, thumb brushing under the hem of your shirt. “Seriously. How am I supposed to be normal about this?”

“You’re not normal about this. You’re obsessed.”

He kissed your jaw. “I am.”

Your throat tightened.

He said it so easily. So shamelessly. Like it wasn’t supposed to matter. Like it didn’t already.

You felt a shift when he lifted you then. His grip on your waist was possessive, like he was reminding you that he could take what he wanted. You wanted it, though. Needed it. His lips didn’t leave yours for a second as he carried you, your body pressed tightly to his, your hands tangled in his hair.

You barely noticed when your back hit the doorframe. You were too busy losing yourself in the taste of him, in the feel of him. His mouth was everywhere—your lips, your jaw, the hollow of your throat—his hands sliding under your shirt like they belonged there.

You pulled back, gasping, and looked up at him through your lashes, eyes hazy with want. “Sid...”

“What?” He barely let you get the word out before his mouth found yours again. His kiss was harder this time—rougher, like he was trying to make up for every moment he hadn’t had you.

His body pressed into yours, and you could feel every inch of him—his chest, his hips, the hard press of his dick against you. You moaned softly into the kiss, hands sliding down to his chest, feeling the way his muscles flexed under your touch.

“You’re killing me,” you murmured, tearing your mouth away to look at him properly. His eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them. Like he was starved.

“You’re killing me first,” he growled, his hands already pushing your shirt up. You didn’t stop him. You couldn’t. The way he was looking at you, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered—like everything else faded to black when you were near him.

He tossed your shirt onto the floor, he set you down, his hands moving to toy with the waistband of your work slacks, and he set you down so he could get them off. You let out a little breathless laugh. “This is definitely a ‘fuck first, talk later’ situation, huh?”

“Always, babe,” he said, voice so deep it made your insides tighten. “You don’t get to make the rules anymore.”

He kissed you again, and you melted into it. His tongue found yours, and it was deep, slow, all-consuming. You could feel his heart pounding under your palms as you slid your hands down his chest, reaching the hem of his hoodie and pulling both his hoodie and shirt off of him in one go.

When he stepped back, there was a brief moment where you both paused, taking in the sight of each other. His abs were more defined than you remembered, his skin still that perfect shade of sun-kissed gold. You couldn’t stop your fingers from tracing the lines of him, down his chest, over the deep V of his hips.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” you whispered, admiring the way he was still standing there, half undressed, waiting for you.

“You make me perfect,” he said, his voice rasping with something more than desire.

You grabbed his collar and pulled him back toward you. “Let’s see if you’re really perfect, Crosby.”

You dragged him to your bed, letting him fall into the sheets with you. The second you were both on the mattress, he was on you, kissing you again, moving with a need that made your breath catch in your throat.

He lifted your hips, tugging at your pants, and you were all too eager to help him. “Been thinking about this for months,” he murmured between kisses, pulling your slacks down your legs with impatient hands.

“Me too,” you managed to say, your hands sliding over his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. “You have no idea.”

“Tell me,” he said, leaning down to kiss your neck, his mouth soft but insistent. “Tell me everything.”

You gasped as his lips found the curve of your neck. “I—fuck—I missed you,” you said, the words tumbling out like you couldn’t keep them inside anymore. “Missed your touch. Missed your voice, the way you make me feel like I’m the only fucking person that matters.”

He groaned, his lips brushing over the soft skin of your throat. “You are the only fucking person that matters,” he muttered. “I’m not going anywhere, babe. You have me.”

And then his mouth was back on yours. His hands cupped your breasts, fingers brushing over your nipples, and you arched into him with a soft moan. He broke the kiss again, looking down at you with the kind of expression that made you feel like you were the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

He tugged his shorts down, and you shivered at the thought of what was to come. “You sure you’re okay with this?” he asked, voice thick with lust, but still gentle, like he needed your confirmation. “I want you more than anything, but I’m not gonna force you.”

You tugged him back to you, pressing your lips to his neck, your hands tugging at the waistband of his boxers. “Shut up and fuck me, Sid.”

He turned over and sat back on his elbows, hands coming up to rest on your hips, just looking.

“You always stare this long?” you asked, voice soft but teasing.

“When I’m starving, yeah.”

His voice dropped. “And you know how long it’s been.”

You tilted your head. “What like 6 months?”

He looked up, smiling. “You counted?”

“Not that difficult.”

You ran a hand through his hair, tugging gently. “You gonna make up for it or just sit there?”

“Oh, I’m gonna make up for it.”

His hands slid down and around, cupping your ass, squeezing once. “But don’t act like you’re not dying to climb on top of me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Who said I haven’t been thinking about it since breakfast?”

He spread his legs a little wider. “Then show me.”

You didn’t need more than that.

You straddled him slowly, knees bracketing his thighs, your chest brushing his. His hands roamed like he couldn’t decide where to keep them—hips, thighs, up your sides. Everywhere. You rocked your hips once, slow, just to tease.

“Jesus,” he whispered, jaw clenching. “You gonna ride me slow or make me beg?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” you said, leaning in to kiss just beneath his ear. “Depends on how sweet you are.”

“I can be sweet,” he murmured, lips catching your shoulder. “I can be so fucking sweet.”

You were already grinding against him through both layers of clothes now, your breath hitching every time he pushed up into you. He kept one hand on your ass and slid the other between your legs, palming you over your underwear. You gasped and pressed harder against him, your head falling to his shoulder.

“You’re soaked,” he whispered, nose brushing your jaw. “Fuck, baby.”

“You did this,” you managed. “You’re the reason.”

“I know,” he growled. “That’s why I’m losing my fucking mind.”

You pulled back just enough to tug your underwear to the side and reach for him. He was hard—hot and heavy and already leaking at the tip. And when you looked down between you, you saw the way his stomach jumped when your fingers closed around him.

You leaned in, kissed him slow, deep, and filthy, mouths open and tongues dragging, his breath catching against your cheek when you lined him up and slid down in one slow, brutal motion.

“Fuck, fuck, baby…” he groaned, arms wrapping tight around your waist.

Your head dropped to his chest, lips parted, breathing hard as you adjusted to him. You felt full in a way that was only ever him. You circled your hips once, slow, and his whole body jerked under you.

“You okay?” you whispered, half-laughing.

“Don’t talk to me right now,” he hissed. “I’m trying not to blow it.”

You laughed again—soft and warm—and kissed his jaw. “You’re always so dramatic.”

“You’re always so tight.”

You moved slow at first. Rocking gently, hips rolling. His hands gripped your thighs, then your waist, then slid up your spine. And every time you moved, he said your name like a prayer.

When you leaned forward and braced your hands on his chest, his eyes rolled back.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “You were made to fuck me.”

You smiled against his mouth. “Think so?”

“Know so.”

You started riding him harder then. The slap of skin, the wet heat of it, your name in his throat over and over. His fingers dug into your hips.

"Harder, Sid," you panted, feeling the orgasm build like a storm in your core. "Need it harder."

Sidney's eyes lit up, he sat up, flipping you over so that you were now lying on your back, his body hovering over yours. He slammed into you in a way that stole your breath, your legs falling open. "Is that what you want?" he growled, his voice a dark promise.

"Yes," you moaned, arching your back to meet his thrusts. "Oh, fuck yes."

Sidney took a moment to appreciate the view, his eyes traveling down your body to where he was buried deep inside you. He spread your legs open, his hands holding them in place, and began to move in a steady motion, watching himself disappear into your welcoming warmth, only to come out glistening with your arousal before plunging back in again. "Look at me, baby," he said, his voice thick with lust. "Watch how good I fuck you."

You couldn't help but whimper at his words, your eyes drawn to the sight of his cock disappearing and reappearing between your thighs. It was almost hypnotic, the way he moved, the way your body responded to his every touch. "Sidney," you breathed, your voice a plea for more.

With a grunt, he lifted your hips up slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts, his hands now gripping your ass tightly. The new position had your head spinning with pleasure, the sensation of him filling you up even more intensely than before.

"Oh, fuck yes," you moaned, your nails digging into his back. The angle allowed him to hit that sweet spot deep inside you that had your toes curling and your eyes watering with each stroke. He took this as a cue to go deeper, harder, faster. You could feel him thickening, his cock pulsing with each thrust, and the knowledge that he was so close to the edge had your own orgasm coming down on you like a freight train.

"Touch yourself, baby," Sidney rasped, his eyes never leaving yours.

You swallowed hard. You've done it before, sure, but the way he said it made it feel new, like a delicious secret you were sharing. You brought your hand down between your legs, your fingers gliding over the slickness he'd created. You felt shy for a moment, unsure of what to do, but Sidney's eyes never left yours, encouraging, hungry.

With trembling fingers, you found your clit, the tiny bundle of nerves that had been begging for attention. You began to rub it in slow circles, your movements hesitant at first.

"Just like that," he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

He leaned down, capturing your bottom lip between his teeth before kissing you deeply, his tongue mimicking the motion of his hips as they pounded into you. The room was thick with the scent of sex. His hips never stopped.

You began to move your hand more confidently, your fingers circling and teasing your clit with a precision that had Sidney groaning into your mouth. He liked watching you touch yourself, liked knowing that you were so lost in pleasure that you couldn't help but give in.

"That's it," he murmured against your lips. "You're so fucking perfect."

The tension grew, each stroke of your hand and thrust of his hips bringing you closer to the edge. Sidney's breath was hot and ragged against your neck as he kissed and nibbled the sensitive skin there, leaving a trail of heat. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every inch of you as if he hadn't had you in years, not just months. They found their way to your breasts again, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive peaks.

You moaned into his ear, the sound sending a shiver down his spine. "Don't stop," you begged, your voice hoarse with passion. "Please don't stop."

Sidney's response was to increase his pace, his cock slamming into you in a way that was almost painful, but oh so good. Your hand moved faster on your clit, the sensation building higher and higher.

"Fuck, baby," he grunted, his eyes darkening with lust. "Gonna make me come."

You felt the first tremor of your orgasm, your body tightening around his cock. The feeling was so intense, you had to bite down on your lower lip to keep from screaming. Your fingers danced over your clit, the pressure building until you couldn't take it anymore. You slammed your hand down, pressing hard as you felt the wave of pleasure crash over you. Your eyes squeezed shut, and you threw your head back, the moan that tore from your throat was raw.

It was fast and sudden and violent. Your whole body clenched, head thrown back, hips grinding down while he hissed through his teeth and held you steady.

But he didn't stop. If anything, his thrusts grew harder, his hips slamming into yours as he watched you come apart in his arms. He liked it when you were like this, vulnerable and lost to the moment, his name a chant on your lips. His length was so hard it ached, and he knew he was close, so fucking close.

He shifted the position without pulling out. He gently closed your legs, his cock still buried deep inside you, and rolled you onto your side. The angle was different now, he moved his hips in a steady, grinding motion. You clutched the bed sheets, your knuckles white with the effort of holding on, as he whispered in your ear.

"You're mine," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "Say it."

You could only moan in response, your voice lost in the haze of pleasure. He chuckled, the sound low and dark, and rolled you onto your stomach, pulling you up onto your hands and knees. Your ass was in the air, and you could feel the heat of his body as he hovered over you, his cock still buried deep within your pussy. He placed a hand on the small of your back, keeping you in place as he began to move again.

"Say it," he repeated, his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

You whimpered, the sensation of his cock moving inside you from this angle was almost too much for you.

"I'm yours," you finally gasped out, the words barely a whisper.

Sidney chuckled. "Good girl," he praised, his hand moving to grip your hip harder.

He pulled almost all the way out, leaving just the tip of his cock inside you, making you whine with need. Then, with a wicked smile, he slammed back into you, the sound of your flesh colliding with his sending a shiver down his spine.

"Fuck, yes," he groaned, the feel of you so tight around him driving him wild.

You dropped down onto your elbows, arching your back even more, giving him the perfect view of your ass as it bounced off of him. He watched as his cock disappeared and reappeared between your cheeks, the sight making him even harder. He liked watching you like this, taking him, begging for more. He liked the way your pussy gripped him like a tight fist, the way you moved your hips back to meet him, fucking him just as hard as he fucked you.

With a grunt, Sidney reached back, his hand smacking your ass with a firm, satisfying sound that echoed through the room. You moaned, the sting mixing with the pleasure, urging him on. He smacked you again, harder this time, his hand coming down with a force that had you seeing stars.

"Uh huh," you breathed.

You felt his cock slide out of you, the sudden emptiness making you whine in protest. Your legs were trembling, your pussy pulsing with the need for release. "No, please," you begged, not caring how desperate you sounded.

"Not yet, baby," Sidney said with a wicked grin, his voice a low purr. He reached down, his thumb brushing over your clit in a way that had you biting back a scream. "Want to feel you come on my tongue."

He flipped you over onto your back. You were trembling with need, your entire body alive with sensation. He slid down your body, kissing and sucking marks into your skin as he went. His breath was hot against your inner thighs, sending shivers through you. He spread your legs wide and took a moment to appreciate the view. Your pussy was swollen and wet, pulsing around nothing, begging for his attention. He leaned in, his tongue flicking out to taste you. The sensation had you arching off the bed, your fingers tangling in his hair.

"Mm Sid," you gasped as his tongue swirled around your clit. He chuckled, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body. He licked and sucked, his mouth working you like a pro, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you from bucking him off. You could feel yourself getting closer, your orgasm building like a storm in your belly. "M gonna come," you panted, your voice breathless.

Sidney didn't stop, didn't even pause. He pushed two fingers inside you, curling them to hit that perfect spot, and you almost screamed. Your hands found his hair, fisting it tightly.

You were close, so close. His tongue was relentless, swirling around your clit, flicking it just so, sending bolts of electricity shooting through your body. His fingers moved in and out of you in a steady rhythm, curling just right. You could feel your orgasm building, the tight coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter with every stroke of his tongue.

"Shit," you gasped, your voice high and desperate. "Fuck, Sid."

His eyes sparked with mischief as he felt your legs begin to tremble around his head. He knew you were close, and the thought of making you come like this had his cock throbbing against his stomach. He slid another finger inside you, stretching you further, and you moaned, the sound muffled by the back of your hand. You were grinding against his face now, riding his mouth like it was his cock, and the feeling was driving him wild. He could feel your walls tightening around his fingers, squeezing him like a vice.

Your eyes squeezed shut as you felt the pressure build, your breath coming in ragged gasps. "Sid, Sid, Sid," you chanted, your voice a high-pitched whine that grew louder with each passing second. He could feel your thighs tense up, and he knew it was coming. He sucked on your clit, his fingers moving in and out of you in a way that had you seeing spots. "Fuck, Sidney, fuck, oh my God," you screamed.

Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, so intense you thought you might drown in it. Your eyes watered, and your legs shook violently, trying to find stability on anything to keep you grounded. But Sidney didn't stop, didn't even flinch as your nails dug into the back of his neck. He held you down, his mouth working you through the intensity until you were a trembling, whimpering mess beneath him.

As the last of the waves settled, Sidney slowly kissed his way up your body, leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses in his wake. Each kiss was like a brand that said you belonged to him in this moment, in this bed. When he reached your mouth, he took your bottom lip between his teeth and tugged gently, teasing you until you opened your mouth to let him in. He kissed you deep and slow, his tongue delving into your mouth to taste the sweetness of your release. You moaned into the kiss, your body still humming with pleasure, your eyes glossed over with tears threatening to spill over.

While Sidney kissed you, his hand found its way between your thighs again, his fingers softly caressing your still-throbbing, still wet pussy. You felt your body respond almost immediately. His thumb slid over your clit, and you shuddered, the sensitivity making you gasp.

Without breaking the kiss, you reached down too, wrapping your hand around his hard cock. He groaned into your mouth, his hips jerking slightly. You stroked him slowly, feeling the veins pulse under your fingertips, the velvety skin hot and slick with pre-cum.

You pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss with a gasp for air. "You're so fucking big," you murmured, a hint of amazement in your voice. Sidney chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"You say that every time," he said, his voice teasing.

"Because it's true every time," you replied, your voice a low purr as you continued to rub your finger over the slick head of his cock. You watched as a bead of precum slid down the length of him.

Sidney chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest, vibrating against yours as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your temple. You could feel his heart pounding, matching the rhythm of your own, and the heat from his body seeped into your skin. He kissed you deeply, his tongue sliding against yours in a dance of passion. You felt his cock twitch in your hand, the muscles in his stomach tightening.

As you continued to stroke him, you wrapped your other arm around his broad shoulders, pulling him closer, needing to feel every inch of him against you. Your breasts pressed against his chest, your hardened nipples brushing against his skin.

You felt him shift, the head of his cock nudging against your folds, the slickness of your arousal making it easy for him to slide along your entrance. He groaned, his hips rolling in a silent plea for you to let him in, but you had other plans. You took the tip of his cock in your hand, rubbing it along your wetness, teasing yourself, teasing him, watching his reaction with a small smile.

"You're killing me, baby," Sidney groaned, his eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and lust.

With a smirk, you lifted your legs, wrapping them around his waist, locking your ankles at the small of his back. Sidney groaned, the sudden pressure making his cock throb with need. He couldn't take it anymore, he had to be inside you again. He lined up the head of his cock with your slick entrance, the anticipation almost too much to handle. With a final, almost desperate look into your eyes, he slapped his cock against your pussy, the wet sound echoing in the room.

He pushed into you, the force making you cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders. You felt so full, so complete with him inside you, like nothing else in the world mattered except the two of you and this moment.

Sidney's eyes never left yours as he began to move, his hips pistoning in a rhythm that had you gasping for air, your body moving in perfect sync with his. The slap of skin on skin filled the room. Each thrust was deep, claiming, and you could feel the head of his cock brush against your cervix, sending a new wave of pleasure crashing over you.

You clung to his biceps, your nails digging into the solid muscle, using them as leverage to meet him thrust for thrust. The sensation was overwhelming, so intense that you had to squeeze your eyes shut, your teeth biting down on your bottom lip to keep from crying out. You could feel your orgasm building again, a pressure that was almost too much to bear.

Sid’s hips moved with a purpose, his cock hitting that spot inside you that had you begging for more, even though you weren't sure you could handle it.

"Look at me," he growled, his voice low and demanding.

You did, your eyes meeting his, and the connection was like a bolt of lightning, setting your entire body on fire. With each thrust, he went deeper, filling you so completely that you weren't sure where he ended and you began. And when he finally reached the peak, his cock pulsing deep inside you, you felt his warmth flood you, his release marking you as his own. He didn't stop moving, though, his hips grinding against yours, his cock still hard and thick, still fucking you through the aftershocks of his orgasm.

The feeling was intense, almost painful, but you didn't want it to end. You felt his come dripping down your thighs, a warm, sticky mess. And as he continued to move, the sensation grew, the pleasure turning into something almost unbearable.

Sidney's hand found its way to one of your breasts, his thumb brushing over the nipple as he fucked you, his strokes deep and slow. You bit down on his shoulder, muffling the sounds of your pleasure, your eyes watering from the overwhelming sensation. You could feel the muscles in his arms flexing, the sweat on his back making your grip slip as you held on for dear life. His other hand moved to your neck, his thumb caressing the sensitive skin as his fingers threaded into your hair, gently pulling your head back to expose your throat to his hungry mouth.

He kissed and licked your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he continued to pump into you, his cock still thick and hard even after his first release. The feeling of him coming deep inside of you was something you never got used to. You felt his hips grind fully against yours, his pelvis pressing against your clit, the friction making you gasp for air.

Sidney felt your pussy tighten around his cock, the walls clenching in a way that told him you were close. He loved making you come, loved watching you fall apart underneath him. He pulled almost all the way out before slamming back into you, making you gasp.

Your eyes fluttered, meeting his for a second, and in that moment, you knew. Your throat was raw from screaming his name, and your voice had abandoned you, leaving only the desperate, quiet gasps that escaped your parted lips. You felt it building, the pressure deep in your core, spreading through your body like wildfire. You clung to Sidney, your nails digging into his back, your body arching off the bed.

His eyes narrowed as he watched you, reading your every move, every twitch of your body, every shallow breath. He knew you so well, knew exactly what you needed, and he was going to give it to you until you couldn't take it anymore. He continued to move, his hips moving in a steady rhythm that had your eyes rolling back in your head. The only sounds in the room were the slap of skin against skin, the harshness of his breath, and the faint sound of your pussy, clenching and releasing around his cock, begging for more.

Another orgasm washed over you, a silent scream of pleasure that had you trembling beneath him. Your body arched, your back bowed, but no sound escaped your throat. It was as if the intensity had stolen your voice, leaving only the desperate gasps for air that filled the quiet room. Sidney groaned, feeling your walls tighten around him, the sensation pushing him closer to the edge once more. He didn't stop, didn't even slow down, his need for you as insatiable as ever.

You could feel the tension in his muscles as he held back, his jaw clenched with the effort of not coming again too soon. But you were lost in the haze of pleasure, your mind a blur of sensation, and you couldn't help but move your hips against his, urging him on.

Another orgasm washed over you, you felt your body convulse around his cock, your pussy clenching tightly, pulling him in deeper, milking him for every drop of pleasure he had to give. And through the silent cries of ecstasy, the tears that rolled down your cheeks, Sidney watched you. He kissed each one as they fell, tasting the salt of your pleasure on his lips, his movements never faltering, never stopping.

You were so sensitive now, so raw with need, that even the brush of his stubble against your cheek was enough to make you whimper. Your orgasm continued to ripple through you, like aftershocks from a powerful earthquake, leaving you trembling and exposed. Sidney took your cries as encouragement, his own passion spiraling out of control as he felt your body responding to his touch, his cock still buried deep inside you.

"Fuck, baby, you're so goddamn tight," he groaned, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

His hips moved faster, his strokes growing more erratic as he approached his own peak again. You could feel his balls tighten, his cock pulsing with every thrust.

Your tears continued to fall as Sidney buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. He kissed you there, his tongue tracing the line of your collarbone as his cock slammed into you with a force that shook the bed. And as he chased his release, you felt your own orgasm building again.

Your body was a symphony of feelings, your pussy tightening and releasing around his thick length, your breasts bouncing with each thrust, your legs trembling with the effort of keeping you both upright. You could feel his muscles tense, his entire body coiled like a spring about to snap. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding on tight as he picked up the pace.

Sidney's breath was hot and ragged against your ear, his teeth nipping at your lobe as he whispered sweet nothings. You felt the bed shake beneath you, the headboard banging against the wall in a steady rhythm. Your nails dug into his back, leaving little half-moons on his skin, but he didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he liked it.

With one final, powerful thrust, he kissed you again, groaning into your mouth as he came. The sound was raw. His cock pulsed deep inside you, his come filling you up, mixing with your own release. The feeling was indescribable, a warmth that spread from your core to the very tips of your toes. You could feel him tense against you, his body shuddering with the force of his release.

He wrapped his arms around you, mouth open against your collarbone, “Fuck, fuck—God, baby—”

As his release calmed, he rested his forehead against yours, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. His eyes searched yours, looking for reassurance that you felt the same, that he hadn't just used you as a means to an end. You kissed him softly, a silent promise that you felt everything he did, that you were just as invested in this as he was. He pulled out of you slowly, the loss making you whimper, your body already missing the feeling of fullness.

The bedside clock glowed 8:23 PM in soft red letters.

You turned to lay your stomach, cheek pressed into your pillow, still a little sweaty, still very much naked. Your leg draped over Sidney’s hip like it belonged there—like it always had—and one of his arms curled loosely around your waist, fingers drawing lazy circles just under your ribs, his fingers kept brushing higher, like he was absentmindedly plotting his next move.

You hummed softly, voice low and rough from all the noises you were making. “You’re still awake?”

His fingers paused. “You think I could sleep after that?”

You cracked a grin into your pillow. “Was I that good?”

“You know you were.”

You turned your face toward him, just enough to catch the smug tilt of his mouth. His hair was messy, sticking up in weird angles, and his cheeks were still flushed from earlier. You hated how good he looked like this—soft, tired, yours.

“I do have a gift,” you said with a dramatic little sigh. “My talents are wasted on you.”

He leaned in and kissed your shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. Big talk for someone who couldn’t stop shaking a few minutes ago.”

You slapped his arm without even lifting your head.

He laughed, warm and smug and Sidney.

A moment passed.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

You hummed again. “What?”

“You coming to the game tomorrow?”

You opened one eye and gave him the flattest stare you could muster. “Are you seriously asking me that right now?”

He shifted onto his side so he could see you better, resting his head on his hand. “I am seriously asking. I know you work. I didn’t want to assume.”

You groaned. “Don’t be responsible. It’s disgusting.”

Sidney snorted. “Okay, sorry. Let me try again.”

You closed your eyes again and tried to go back to pretending you were tired and content and not giddy as hell just being with him.

“…You coming to the game tomorrow, or am I gonna have to play like shit just to get your attention?”

You bit your lip to keep from smiling too hard. “Mmm. What’s in it for me?”

He paused. You could feel him grinning without looking. “You want me to bribe you to come see me play?”

“I want you to try.”

Sidney shifted again, leaning over you now, kissing your shoulder, then your back. “Okay,” he murmured against your skin. “You come to the game…”

He trailed his hand down the curve of your side, slow and deliberate.

“…and I’ll take you to dinner after.”

You turned your head just enough to give him a skeptical look. “That’s the best you’ve got? Dinner? That’s what you’re leading with?”

He laughed into your shoulder. “You like food!”

“I also like not being treated like a fucking groupie.”

“You’re not a groupie. You’re—” He hesitated. “You’re you.”

That made your heart do a weird thing. You ignored it.

You rolled onto your back with a dramatic sigh, pulling the sheet up over your chest even though he’d already seen everything several times tonight. “Try harder.”

“Jesus. You’re insane.”

“You love it.”

“I do,” he admitted easily. “Okay. You come to the game… I’ll take you to dinner, and—” he leaned in, voice low and tempting, “—I’ll leave you the quarter zip again.”

You blinked. “The one I’m obsessed with?”

“Yeah. I’ll even spray it with my cologne so it smells like me when I leave.”

You rolled your eyes, even though your stomach fluttered. “You’re disgusting.”

“You’re the one who asked for it.”

You mock-gasped. “So you admit I’m pathetic.”

“Baby,” he said, dragging the word out, “I’ve been saying that since the first night we met.”

You reached out and grabbed a pillow, hitting him in the chest with it. “Asshole.”

He laughed and caught your wrist, then kissed the inside of it like he was apologizing for teasing you, which he definitely wasn’t.

“You are pathetic,” he said gently. “But so am I.”

You gave him a look. “You showed up here unannounced and used a key I gave you six months ago.”

“Exactly.”

“You should be in a hotel. With your team. You remember them, Captain?”

“Hotels don’t have you in them.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

He leaned down and kissed you again—slow and soft and unhurried. Like he had nowhere else to be. Like you were the only thing he gave a shit about right now.

You sighed into it, letting your fingers curl around the back of his neck. “You’re lucky you’re good in bed.”

He laughed again, cocky. “I am good in bed.”

“God, I hate how smug you are.”

“You love that too.”

You kissed him again. “Yeah,” you murmured, lips brushing his. “Unfortunately.”

Sid pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes warm and soft. “So that’s a yes? I’ll see you there?”

You groaned dramatically. “Ugh, fine. I’ll come watch you do your stupid little hockey.”

He grinned and kissed your hip. “Wear my jersey.”

“Gross.”

“Please.”

You fake-gagged.

He leaned up over you, face hovering close, eyes soft in that way that made you feel like you were nineteen and falling hard for the first time.

“You look hot in it,” he said. “Do it for me.”

You sighed. “Fine.”

He kissed your forehead, then settled back beside you, pulling you into his arms like it was the easiest thing in the world.

It was almost annoying how right it felt. Like he belonged in your bed. Like you belonged in his arms.

Like this wasn’t a game you kept playing because you were too scared of what it would mean to stop.

You sighed again and rested your head on his chest. “You’re gonna owe me so much after tomorrow.”

He ran his fingers through your hair. “Whatever you want, baby. Just tell me.”

And god help you—you believed him.

—

[ctrlhope]

Chasing Tornados (m)

synopsis: Ever since you were young, you found solstice in the clouds. Found haven in their winding winds, their chilling storms. Monsters of the air meant to destroy became your love— your safety. You know everything about the skies, yet you only want to know more about him. Wish for him to love you just as much as you do him. Your best friend. Your scorpion. Your impossible. Your Yoongi. -> part of the rest, relax, reserve series

m.yoongi x f.reader

⛆ ﾟ ⋆ : wc: 21.0k+

⛆ ﾟ ⋆ : genre: hybrid au, storm chasers au, soulmate au, friends/coworkers to lovers, idiots to lovers, angst, smut, fluff

⛆ ﾟ ⋆ : content: scorpion hybrid!yoongi x human!reader, storm chaser!yoongi+reader, angst, semi-public sex (bathroom), fingering, p in v, dom!yoongi, sub!reader, bratty!reader a lil, rough sex, thigh riding, sex under the influence (alcohol), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, one mention of a breeding kink, yoongi has a tail, mates, misunderstandings, fights, jealousy, non-linear storytelling, reader and yoongi are both kinda stupid idk, but also v cute, angst but a happy ending <33

⛆ ﾟ ⋆ : notes: heyyyyy it’s ur girl, back with another mc let’s play video!! kidding lol, sorry this took so long to write, life has been really hectic. trust me on this fic lol. but i rlly fell in love with these two nd I hope you do too <33 and i hope u enjoy my attempts at comedy! remember!! my requests are always open nd you can always feel free to send asks to characters <33

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni

Wind wraps in your hair, blowing it– making it form into some beastly, monstrous thing around your head. Tangling your face, your eyes falling askew as it finds itself messing around your very being. The howls of gusts form in your ears, sounding of ghosts that would haunt any normal person. 

But you, no. Not you. You live for this. Live for the rain that beats into your skin. Live for the cracks of thunder roaring above your head. Find serenity in the dark clouds that hang overhead, the adrenaline pumping through your veins. In the knowledge that it's coming. That it’s coming soon. 

The world acts as something greater- something more than yourself. A collective that has not a care for you or the people in it. A system acting for its own desires. A storm that takes and takes and takes until there's nothing left to give. 

You love it. Love every second of it. 

Even if you should be scared, even if you should be terrified– look for cover just like everyone else. To hide and cower away from the winding beast that destroys homes, takes down power lines. That kills. You can’t. Not when you feel this– this calling deep in your bones. This calling to know more. This calling to conquer a monster. 

To chase the impossible. 

You have always lived for that very thing. Have constructed your entire life around finding answers for beasts that are beyond reason, to construct something real from what can only be construed as fake. To look the storm in the eye, to live within it rather than to be consumed.

And that is exactly why you stand where you find yourself now. Tornado Alley. A storm brewing just in front of you. Warm air meeting cold, finding breath, coming to life. 

Maybe you should be scared. Maybe you should let panic set you alight and carry you far, far away from the death spirals. Maybe you should do a lot of things, yet you can't. You can only stare in wonder as rain hits your flesh. As the wind tries to take your clothes, battering them in the breeze. As electricity cracks above your head, light debris flying past your form to entertain the forming tornadoes fury.  

Bang, Bang, Bang. 

Now that sound isn't from the storm, it can’t be. Sounds too much like metal, like a fist hitting it. Oh right, the car. 

“(Y/n) get your ass in here, now!” His voice is loud, forced to so you could hear him above the storm. He would never yell otherwise. Never raise his voice a single decibel against you. 

Your body turns to face him, a smile breaking across your cheeks without a second thought. Eyes turning to crescents, rain dripping down your cheeks. 

Right, Yoongi. 

The impossible. 

You don’t know when it happened. It shouldn’t have happened. But you knew it did. Felt the shift in your soul whenever you looked at him, felt your blood pumping just a fraction faster whenever he was close. Felt yourself yearn to smell his signature Yoongi scent whenever you sat in his car, whenever he drove you around on one of your little escapades. 

Maybe it was a year ago. Maybe less. Maybe more. You could never be sure– emotions never were your strong suit. But he knew that, and he didn’t care. Never pressured or pried, always just let the two of you be. Act in co-existence in a way you doubt two people could. 

Your partner in crime, your solace among the disarray perpetuating every second of your job– your life. The only person you knew crazy enough to chase the storms with you. To risk their life driving you into the eye. Your right hand man. Your friend. 

None of it should have happened. But it did anyway. Isn’t that always the way life goes? The same way the storms control the skies, he found himself controlling your heart with no will of his own. No knowledge of the underlying flutter that found its way into your guts the second he looked at you, nor any knowledge of the way your eyes fell into adoration when they fell on him. 

Why did you have to fall in love with the storm? 

You weren’t sure– never cared to look deeper into the fact. Never cared to think about why you couldn’t fathom a future without him. Never dared to dip into why the scrawny kid from your college has suddenly become a man before you. Never even thought to challenge the pre-disposed ideologies that held your friendship by its core.

No. You would never do anything as stupid as that. 

Yes, you were a creature of impulse. Never the type to take into account the consequences your actions disclosed. But you like to chase the impossible. You would never think to actually attempt to change it. Especially when you could lose everything in the process. Lose him.

In more ways than one.

Plus, you know where he stands. Know he could never see you as anything more than a friend– a little sister. The hair ruffles, the slight glares he gives when men talk to you in the bars, the way he puts up with your ���overly affectionate’ cuddles– as much as you wish the simple actions meant more, you knew they simply didn’t.

A big brother. Unfortunately for you, he knows that’s the role he plays in your life too well. 

But he’s not your big brother. He's a man, you’re a woman. It’s not like you ever asked to get caught up in the stringers that tangled you together. Not like you ever asked for this crush to form. 

“For fucks sake! (Y/n)!” His voice is louder now, a harsh yell pulling you from the thoughts that sunk you under the waves. His body forcing itself through the wind to get to you, arm raising to shield his face. “We have to fucking go!!” 

He would admonish you later for getting too caught up in your own thoughts again– something you knew all too well. But when the storm was raging around you, it was almost easier to think. To get lost in the recesses of your brain until you drew the conclusion you had been looking for all along. 

His hand grips your wrist now, dragging you back to the safety of your company truck all while scolding you harshly with words he never actually meant. Just his salt-coated concern peaking through the surface. And well, his concern about getting swallowed up by the storm. Yeah, most people worry about that kind of stuff. At least that’s what you suppose. 

“Are you that fucking stupid?” He shouts roughly at you, forcing you to get in the passenger seat. His touch is gentle even if his words are strong. He always has been strong. “You’re going to get yourself killed!” 

He slams the door closed before you can say anything back– frustrated but not mad. Never mad at you. And for that you can’t help the giddy feeling on your lips. Your eyes watching him as he quickly walks to his side of the car, tail curled close to his back almost as if to protect himself. 

Right, his tail. You forget about it a lot of the time– but at the same, you are so very fond of it. Smile whenever it moves in response to his emotions, giggle whenever he forgets about it himself, tripping over the thing. 

You often forget Yoongi isn’t a full human. But it’s never played much of a role in your life, in your friendship. So you don’t really see the point to care. Choose to ignore the scorpion blood that runs through his veins and view him as any other person walking the face of the earth. It’s never bothered you. 

Most people around you call you a fool anyway, it’s not much to add another reason to it. 

“Ah~ Don’t worry, King Yoongi. I don’t plan on getting myself killed anytime soon.” You let out a gentle giggle as he finds his way into the car, pressing on the gas almost immediately and driving as fast as he can away.

His body is so rigid, so stressed. Yet you can’t be further from it. Your legs propped haphazardly on the dashboard, your body sinking deeper into the seat. You trust him. He always gets you out. Something about his special senses, probably. Maybe. 

Actually, you don’t know. You should ask him about it later– how he can see in such horrid conditions. 

“You will if I just leave you there.” He rolls his eyes, glancing over to you for only a second before managing back to the road, “Don’t think I won’t.” 

“You won’t though.” He only scoffs, but you can see the smile at the corner of his mouth. It warms you almost as much as the sound of the rain– or maybe it's hail now, pelting the roof of the car.  

“I could and I will.” 

“But you won’t.” 

“Just put your fucking seat belt on.” He grumbles, his voice getting a fraction louder as he turns the wheel harshly, a last second manoeuvre. A stick flying through the air past your window. A narrow avoidance. 

The car bumps harshly as it drives, the roads narrow and in disarray. Swerving to avoid debris that litters the ground and jumping as it dips into potholes. It feels like a race. Makes you feel alive even as you click the belt into place– as he moves his tail across your frame to act as a second one. 

You should be scared. Should be terrified of getting caught in the storm. But you trust Yoongi. You know he’ll always protect you. 

“Did the other teams drop their equipment on time?” You ask, reaching below your seat and grabbing the computer. He sends you a pointed glance. 

“According to the sensors we were the last ones.” 

“Well we always are~” You mumble back, a little sing-song in your voice while your head tilts towards your chin. Eyes scanning the array of measurements that pop up on the screen– reading them, taking in their meaning. 

It is your job, anyway. 

“Who’s fault is that?” His words don’t perfectly cross your ears, never do when you're trying to focus. An input of too much information at once and a computer might explode! Aka your brain, aka he’s known for years you have selective hearing when trying to understand complicated things. 

“Mhmm…” You quietly mumble out, fingers moving quickly to type as he finally drags the car out of the storm. Slows down to a more human speed as you type out a few observations, input pieces of code to make your readings more sensible. 

You completely miss the small smile he sends your way, the tilt of his head trying to check. “Anything interesting?”

“Mmm… Nothing we haven’t seen before. Got a couple of cool 3D models of the storm your screen, though…” You tilt the laptop in his direction, showing him the model of the storm. Exactly how big it was, how fast it was moving. “Just an E2, but still pretty.” 

“Yeah, had to’ve been to almost let it eat you.” 

You roll your eyes, shutting the laptop as he pulls over to the side of the road, “Of course, I’d let anything as pretty as that take me out.” 

He scoffs, “Anything, really?”

“Yeah, you know that guy on Attack on Titan that's like ‘oh i’d let a pretty female titan eat’-- Wait a second it is not my fault!” You suddenly announce, his words before finally registering in your mind, “You’re always tinkering with the the the bits!! That’s why it takes so long!”

You grump, crossing your arms. A fond smile finding its way to his lips. 

“Yeah, cause the ‘bits’ are the real issue, aren’t they? Not you playing out music videos in your head while a tornado is hurrdaling at us?”

“Okay! That was one time! And totally not my fault!” You huff, not in any real annoyance, just simply banter. Yoongi always seemed to like your over-dramatic reactions anyway. “You said we could play Hurrcane!! By my girl Bridget Mendler! You know what that song does to me!” 

He can only laugh in response, the gums of his mouth showing as he tilts his head back. Long black hair falling lower against his shoulders. Tail falling lax for the first time in forever. Crests shown in his eyes. 

You like giving Yoongi your reactions if it means he can smile like this. 

When he looks in your direction for a breef second, you can’t help but puff out your cheeks and stick out your tounge in pestilence. The action only causing him to shake his head, eyes returning to the road a little brighter than before.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. How could I possibly forget.” A thousand words are said behind his tone that you could never pick up on. Never notice. “You get so excited, like a kid. It’s funny.”

Your head jerks to look at him, a pointed glare in your eye, “She makes me feel things you can’t even hope to understand, Min.”

He rolls his own, “Uh huh. I’m sure.” 

College. Senior Year. The perfect hell it bestows on all of its captors. 

The combined effort of senior thesis’s, grad school searches, advanced level course work, and the unyielding need for money after graduation, as it turns out, is the best possible combination for stress any one person can find! How wonderful. Especially for you, with a stupid gpa you need to upkeep to keep your stupid scholarships, so you can get your stupid degree and get your stupid job–

Well, okay. Now you’re just spiralling. 

Annoyed and tired has never been a good combination for everyday dreamers. Especially those that have been working their entire lives for a single goal. To chase their every last dying hope since they were a child. To become the very person they could only wish to be in their youth. 

But in all fairness, your ass has been handed to you on a silver platter after your last exam grade was horribly, terribly slid to you face down against the table. A quiet note of “see me after class” listed on the top without reverie. Your thoughts a sudden cyclone vortexing you inward and onward, wishing you could tell the sweet summer child of your adolescence that you had failed her. That you were never going to be able to live inside a tornado as she had wished. 

Oh. The monster that you were. 

That was, at least, until you did meet with your professor. And, apparently, he wasn’t going to drop you from the class and (somehow) get you removed from the college like you had thought! Even better, he saw how hard you worked– how much you truly care. Deciding to lend a hand rather than pull it back. Giving you a building and a time to meet with a tutor he specifically picked out. 

Someone he would apparently trust his life to. Your life– okay, academic career, to as well. 

That’s how you found yourself now. Walking through a library that had to be older than your great grandparents– the scent of mildew filling your nose as you moved farther and farther into the recesses of the building. 

Why, exactly, you had to meet in the deepest, darkest corner of the library at an absurd hour of the day confuses you even now. Annoys you a little, quite frankly. Leaving your dorm past 8pm feels like a nightmare.

But you trust your professor, you trust that he wouldn’t steer you wrong. Well, hope is probably a better term. One that more accurately portrays your inner conflicts as you make your way to the back conference table nestled deep within walls of encyclopaedias. Dust entrapping the air you sit in– age and memories baked in the walls. 

At worst, that’s all you shall make. Memories. Call the whole thing a bust and look online for some tutors or go to a used bookstore and buy a few more outdated textbooks. At best, you’ll pass the class and become one of the best meteorologists the world has seen. No pressure on Mr. Mystery Tutor or anything. Obviously. 

None at all. 

Your fingers find themselves tapping against the table as you think; seat already taken, items already spread out as you wait. Just your ring finger over and over in a repeated motion– the beat of wind speeds picking up on a desert plane. The bubbling of magma under the surface of the earth. The–

“(Y/n)?” A husk of a voice breaks your almost monotonous silence, your tapping suddenly ceased as a chill travels down your spine. A chill from the tone of someone's voice alone– can you believe that? 

Somewhere, once, when you were little, you heard that a chill runs down your spine whenever a serial killer passes by. But this isn't that. No, this is something entirely different. More familiar. More recognizant. 

Your eyes shoot pitifully fast up at him, almost tilting your head as you take in the features. Black hair– maybe brown, baggy hoodie, slouched shoulders. One hand supporting the shrap of his bag that hangs over his shoulder. 

No, you don’t know him. Maybe a future you does– one where a timeline passes over this exact spot. Where you’re friends already, maybe something more. Something safe. Though, that isn’t a very scientific explanation. One colleagues and professors may make fun of you for. You disregard the notion, only nodding your head to confirm. 

He only mirrors the motion in return, seemingly not one for conversation himself. Finding himself pulling out the chair across from yours, setting himself inside of it. Wasting no time in pulling out his own belongings. 

Laptop, textbook, notebook. 

“The professor said you were having trouble with qualitative analysis of…” His voice trails off, and you can’t help but wonder how someone's voice can almost sound like a well-loved record. A tune that can’t quite find its sink– almost too rigid to hope itself melodic. 

You listen to the same voice as it sings out the songs of your lessons. As he goes over the failed exam beat by beat. Explaining the first few questions in such simple terms anyone could understand them. Not in a way that felt condescending, no. Again, it just felt so warm that you couldn’t do anything but listen to him quietly. Absorbing everything without a single interruption. 

Well, until question 7 at least. That is when you feel two synapses connecting in your brain reminding you of an ultra-important task that absolutely cannot be forgotten. A handshake. Your small hand cutting him off, reaching across the table without a second thought.

He stares at the pervasive hand as if it is something he’s never seen before. Never been offered in the first place. Something offensive to hurt rather than anything else.

Interesting. 

“My dad always said you have to shake hands when you’re meeting someone. Or else it’s bad luck down the road. So…” You explain away simply, like it should be obvious to every person on the Earth. It should, honestly. But you’ve been told you have issues with thinking that way– that things obvious to you should be obvious to everyone else. That everyone else lives within the same bubble you’ve found yourself residing in your whole life. 

You know it isn't true– that the bubble you’ve created is something you simply live in alone. Periphery finding itself resident to everyone else. But that’s awfully lonely, isn't it? You choose to think the former. 

His shoulders slowly unfurl, defences slowly lowering as he meets your hand in the middle. Rough palm meeting yours, shaking slowly up and down before both sides pull away. A magnet short of attraction of two bodies as you pull away. 

“Good.” You nod, pulling your knees up to hover off of the ground. Resting them against the edge of the table instead. “I don’t like bad luck either.” 

There's a beat of silence, one that you don’t mind. 

“Do you not like black cats then either?” His tone has an edge of pessimism to it. His defences considering a raise. 

You, on the other hand, feel immediate offence. How dare he! “What?! Are you crazy! Or course I like them.” 

You miss the crook of his lip into a light smirk, defences gone once more, “Well, normally they’re seen as bad luck…” 

“That’s just a stereotype!” You instantly defend. Your body leaning over, moving your face closer to his. 

He holds his arms up in defence, pencil still wedged between his fingers, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. My bad completely.” He lets out a quiet chuckle at the end, you only puff out your cheeks.

“Entirely.” You huff quietly, almost sounding like a petulant child, “I would never judge something just off of how they’re born.” At that, he almost perks an ear. 

“Really?” He asks, his eyebrows slowly raising, “Not even hybrids?” 

Ah, hybrids. A common discussion other people find themselves having, one that you never really found the purpose of. Arguments on their rights, the ethics of keeping them as pets, on if they should even be classified as intelligent life. You hated all of them. Didn’t understand for a second why people kept themselves concerned with class divisions or keeping others subservient at all. 

As far as you care, they’re the same as humans. Think like humans, act like humans. Another creature just as deserving the right to live and exist as all others. You don’t concern yourself with the difference in their existence– seeing them, treating them the same as you would any other person. 

You can’t stand that others find different opinions than yourself. Cutting them off entirely for treating another living, breathing creature with the capacity to think for itself as less. Reminding you desperately that you live on the periphery. 

“No, why should I care.”  You scrunch your nose up at the notion you’d think otherwise. He takes the action differently. “They’re the same as everyone else.” 

You surmise your ideologies simply, though you’re never sure if your words construe correctly. His results are inconclusive as well, letting out a quiet grunt. Dropping the subject. Keeping his words from revealing what is true. 

“What else is bad luck then?” 

You don’t notice the quick subject change, “Walking under ladders, whistling in the woods, doing your laundry on a sunday. …I can’t imagine saying Bloody Mary in a mirror 3 times is much help either.” 

He pauses for a second, his eyes just looking at you. They’re sharp things– knives against a grinder maybe. Could even be too sharp to be human, if you cared to look a little closer. Cared to notice the differences between you and him. 

But you don’t, nor will you probably ever. Just allow him to shake his head simply, let him return to your test questions without a single other thought leaking into that brain of yours. Only this time, you feel comfortable enough to ask a few more questions. Let him delve more deeply into the work without the threat of your mind wandering off to useless things. Allow the clock to tick later, later, later into the night– moving from your exam, to the most recent concept your class has been working on. Carefully treading the water, staying afloat as you finally begin to understand. 

You hate to admit it, you really do for the sake of your pride alone, but he really is a good teacher. He doesn’t seem upset when you ask questions– no matter how stupid you are. He stays calm whenever you start to get frustrated, carefully talking you through it instead of getting upset himself. He seems so peaceful you almost want to hate him for it. 

Almost, because between the gentle instructions and messy handwriting as the hours tick late into the night, jokes begin to crack freely between both of your tongues. Gentle jabs that mean nothing, topics construing into obscurity flowing into something more entertaining to discuss. 

Though– he did seem to have pause when you told him you don't trust fish. Something about them thinking they’re better than you– of which he agreed. Not that they’re better than you, of course not. But that yeah… they do seem to have that kind of look in their eyes. 

He feels the same way about birds, you learned. Interesting. 

It isn’t until midnight that he calls it, a time you didn’t even think was plausible. You thought it was 9:30, 10 at the latest! There’s no way midnight could have come so soon! Just the idea of it sounded fake. But then you checked the clock in the library, then your phone, and now you don’t know what to think. 

Time has never flown so simply with another person. 

“I told you I wasn’t lying.” He has that stupid smirk on his face, the one you’ve decided means he’s feeling cocky and amused. 

“You could… you could have changed all of them when I wasn’t looking! To trick me?”

“Yeah.. mhmm.. And what would that do.. For either of us..?”

“. . . I haven’t gotten there yet.”

“Right.” He smiles, a real smile that shows off his gums. You can’t help but reflect a smaller one back at him. 

Once again he moves first, standing after he’s collected all his belongings. Tossing his bag over his shoulder while you hurry to catch up. Sliding your laptop inside before making sure your pens know their correct homes in the case–

What was that?

It was something so subtle anyone could have missed it. A mouse scurrying between cases, a piece of trash floating by. Something brown moving quickly in the corner of your eye. Something you neglected to notice. How could you not notice something so obvious?

When you look up at him– finally take the man you’ve spent the night with in his entirety, you see it. You missed it while he was sitting down, obviously trying to keep the thing from view, but now there was no hiding it. It was impossible to hide the thick brown tail that hung behind him in such a relaxed posture you wonder if he forgot about it, too. 

You couldn’t help the instant fascination as you took the form of it in. The pretty segments it appeared to be broken into– 5 if you counted them correctly, all stacked neatly upon one another. All leading to a stinger resting at the end, gently curled inward rather than held in defence. 

The gentleness of the man himself contrasted so nicely with the firmness of the tail. 

So pretty.

It was only then that he must’ve realised his mistake. Must’ve noticed your silence, followed your eye line to see exactly where it was laying. Realised that he let his guard down too quickly– understood too quickly that you didn’t already know about his… condition. His state of existence. 

The professor must’ve not told you. Probably thought it was a negligible factor even though it never is. Maybe when he came in you missed it, you didn’t actually look up at him until he sat down anyway. Until his tail was already tucked deep under the chair for protection. 

Without realising it, his tail raises. Curing behind his back, the tip looking even sharper than it normally does. Meanwhile his body tenses up entirely. Defence utterly encasing his form.

Fuck, and then your eyebrows are raising– and next you’re gonna start screaming and he’ll have to run so he doesn’t get taken in by hybrid services and–

“Can I touch it?” Your voice brings him back to reality, back from the ‘end-of times’ it found itself careening towards. Now he’s just, he’s just confused. Did you just ask him if you could touch it? Why aren’t you acting like he’s suddenly the scum of the earth? That’s how hybrids are treated anyway. 

Even if you said otherwise earlier, that doesn’t mean much to someone who's never experienced otherwise. 

“. . . oh… or maybe that’s rude. Forget it. Sorry.” You rush out instead, taking his appearance softly. Honestly, you don’t know much about what could be considered ‘rude’ to hybrids… you don’t have much experience with them at all, actually. 

“You’re not…” He fumbles with himself, his tail remaining raised like a predator. He forces himself taller, forces himself to appear more together. More ready to ‘strike’-- figuratively. He clears his throat, “What, you have something you want to say?”

You cock your head back sharply, rising to your feet, “No, why would I?” You feel just as confused as him. Maybe asking to touch a hybrid’s parts is more taboo than you thought… 

“Look I didn't mean any offence it was just pretty and–”

“Just fucking run off and report me if you’re going to–”

Both sentences are said at the same time from each party, the response mirroring exactly as well. Both faces twist into that of almost confusion and offence, upset that the other would dare say something like that for entirely different reasons. 

“What are you talking about?” Your question comes from annoyance, almost anger that he would think you would do something as nasty as reporting him when he was just trying to live his life. 

His comes from the simple word pretty. Why would you think his appendage was anything of the sort? The one thing his entire life that’s set him back– the very blood in his veins betraying him. The reason he can’t be accepted by normal people. The reason he has to take stupid night classes at this university with any professor that is actually willing to accept him. To accept his under the table payments. 

The very reason he’ll never get a real job– just hope to be adopted by someone who will let him do what he wants. Just hope that the authorities don’t find him, or that his own landlord won’t turn him in before he can do that. 

And you think it’s pretty? No fucking sane person would. 

“Why would you think I’d report you?” Your tone is hurt, the pang in his heart hurting just as much. He hates that he feels it, and he hates that he wants to comfort you more than anything else. Stupid fucking scorpion genes. 

“What else would you do?” He scoffs, crossing his arms.

“Literally nothing. I would do nothing.” You glare at him slightly, “I don’t care that you’re a hybrid, why would I?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” His tone is accusatory, but he doesn’t quite know what else to make it. 

“Okay, let’s go down the list, yeah?” The spite in your tone lets the both of you know this night is taking a sour turn, “You can think, you can feel, oh right, you’re your own fucking person.”

You roll your eyes, “I know words don’t mean much, probably, but I view literally every creature as equal.” He still stands firm, your words and his life experiences battling in his mind. You sigh, this isn’t going anywhere. “Listen, I know it probably doesn’t mean much, and like, we both just met so I know it doesn’t hold much value. But I’m really sorry for whatever you’ve gone through in your life. It couldn’t have been easy. But I really, truly don’t care about whatever laws are in place. As far as I’m concerned, you’re equal to me.”

Your tone had gone soft, more gentle. Trying to dispel the hostility that hung fragrant in the air. But it looks like he can’t move. Doesn’t really know how after all of that. You probably wouldn’t either– though you’re not sure, you’ve never been good at putting yourself in other people's shoes. You just hope he believes you… that’s all you can do. 

“I’ll head out first. You have my number, text me if you want to meet again.” You start towards the door, the ball left in the other man’s court. You wish you could’ve at least got his name first but.. He never introduced himself. Hmm, maybe you did the handshake too late, that’s why the bad luck kicked in. 

“You think it’s pretty?” You almost don’t hear his words, too far away. 

You turn your body back to face him, a gentle smile crocheted onto your lips, “Of course I do. Exquisite.” 

The two of you stand in silence for a minute longer, trying to navigate the confusing energy moving between both of your forms. It’s only when you turn back around again to leave that he finally speaks. The simple word of his name. 

“Yoongi.” 

“Well, it was very nice to meet you, Yoongi.” You say softly, tilting your head to look at him once again, “I really do hope we can be friends.”

But that was years ago. Friends came and went; now you want so much more. More than you could ever quite articulate. You know it now as you sit with him, an after-chase ritual in whatever cheap roadside bar you can find. Never finding yourselves regulars, always on the move– save for the presence of each other. 

“I don’t think luck is real, you know.” Yoongi drawls into your ear, the scent of alcohol heavy on his tongue. His body leaning against yours in the crowded bar, hair dancing against the side of your neck all while his tail finds itself curled around your back. A simple motion that could only be described as protective, possessive. 

“What?!” You dramatically slap your hand against your mouth, an action you picked up from him. Alcohol inhibiting both of your minds only slightly, letting words flow a little easier than they otherwise might. Letting touch feel a little more commonplace. 

An afterwork tradition, if you will. 

“You’re insane!” You announce, slapping his shoulder playfully, “You’re gonna make bad luck get us Yoongi!! Take it back!” 

Your voice is almost a whine, and he wants to fold because of it. 

“You say that like you aren’t a stem major!” He laughs, his eyes shining like crescent moons you want to live on. Wait, does that even make sense?

“That doesn’t matter! We're like– the least scienc-y!! Our whole job is practically based on luck! Oh my god!” Now you’re stopping your foot a little, and his tail finds itself pulling you closer.

“Yeah, but you have no idea how many ladder’s I’ve walked under and you still say I have the best luck.” He giggles– fucking giggles!! Can you believe the audacity of this man?! 

“Yoongi!! How dare you!! Do you know how many E5s’ you’ve cost us?! Probably like.. Like 20!” 

“Mm, maybe yours just keeps it up for the both of us. Huh?” You humph, you fucking humph, and maybe– just maybe, Yoongi feels himself going a little insane. Forgetting himself– what you are meant to be to him.

“That’s the only plausible explanation… obviously…” 

He hums, “Obviously.” 

There’s a brief moment, a flicker in the air of something indescribable. Something that makes your skin feel a quiet, humble flame strumming under the surface. That makes you feel as if there's electricity pulsing through the space left between your noses. That makes you feel almost invincible as your eyes meet his warm brown tones. 

You’ve come to love earthy hues since meeting Yoongi. He’s full of them, after all. 

But, the flame of the match is blown out far too quick for you to truly comprehend what that moment was. Why it felt the way it did. Instead, your left sputtering with the absence of Yoongi, the slow withdrawal of his form. 

“I’ll go get us more drinks.” His gravelly voice mutters just loud enough to hear over the music. You can only nod along, already missing the security of the tail curled around your back. 

At least he isn’t so shy about it’s presence anymore. At least not like he was back then– trying to hide it, trying to make the rest of the world forget about it. You never understood why, no, how could you when you love it so much? Find it just another integral part of Yoongi for you to love. 

You can even smile now, thinking back to how cute he got the first time he let you touch it. How he turned red to his ears, the chill that travelled down his spine. The flick of it as it chased after your hand when you retreated. It was too fucking cute back then… mm. Maybe that’s when you first started to grow a crush on the man. 

Or maybe it was always how struck he was when you complimented him. Pushed it aside like it meant nothing, yet he always seemed a little out of it for the rest of your time spent together. You suppose Yoongi has always been reticent to your gaze; but then again, he was always aloof when it came to his feelings as it was. Nothing to dwell on, honestly. 

You’ve never tried to hide your feelings– have never wanted to, really. You don’t think you even know how. But you’re not going to force them on him either. If he wants to act, the door has always been open. And it will remain open to him, probably forever. 

“How’d the chase go this time?” A voice carries you from your head, your feet returning to the solid ground. Jisung, a fellow chaser finds himself in the seat next to yours– the seat Yoongi used to fill. A friend in the industry, you could say. Though, you take to thinking he probably wants more. 

“Mmm… ‘bout as good as any other this late into the season…” You hum, taking a sip from your half-full glass, “Never as good around this time of year.” 

Your sigh makes a gentle smile grow onto his plush lips, “Really? I thought you fell in love with every storm.” He lets out a quiet snort, swirling his own cup. His eyes seem to remain focused on you, though. 

“Of course I do. Everyone is perfect and special!” You declare a smile stretching back, “However, like every caring mother, I do have favourites.” 

“I don’t think– that’s not–” He laughs, “Aren’t parents not supposed to have favourites?”

“You really believe that Lie, Sung? Bold of you.”

“Well, do you have favourite pets?”

“Of course not!! How dare– okay, yeah. It’s the goldfish. His name is Guppie and he is my pride and joy. Named after my first love in elementary school~ imagine I let out a dreamy sigh here.”

His laugh makes your own come out as well, “Your first love was a… fish?”

“What, no?”

“They were named Guppie? … Like a fish…”

“Nickname, of course.” You giggle, girlish and cute. 

“Do you give nicknames to everyone then?” He moves his face closer in wonder, excitement, “What’s mine? You have to tell me.”

You hum, tapping your chin in contemplation, “I don’t know ‘Sung, nicknames are reserved for extra special people in my life…”

“Ah!” He clutches his chest, looking down before popping his head up. Puppy dog eyes, “I’m not extra special? You wound me (Y/n)! You really do! And I really thought we had something, I can’t believe this.” 

You laugh loudly at the dramatic act– emotions on the sleeve are so much more fun to display. You know he probably means none of it, but it’s still adorable. You can’t help but lean in closer, slapping his chest gently. 

“Shh! Shh! You’re too loud! Too loud! You’re extra special!” The conversation is easy, just as it always is with Jisung. Though it isn’t the same– you can’t help but notice that fact. It feels easy, smooth… though like there is a wall in the way of true connection. Like there is a way you are meant to act. Just like there always is. 

Always is with everyone but Yoongi. 

It’s strange. But something you’ve grown attached to. Fond of. 

He clears his throat behind you– think of the devil and he shall appear. Or however the saying goes. You’ve never been good with them, anyway. Your strengths and your faults, the simple facts have become all too aware of over time. Not that you mind them, of course. You just accept them as a fact of ‘you’. Just like your bubble, just like your impossible.

“Oh, hey!” Jisung is bright as always, giving a gentle wave to the man behind you. 

“Poongie!” You smile, your inebriated mind already attempting to wrap itself around his torso. It’s not your fault you already missed him!

Jisung erupts in a fit of giggles, “Poongie?! That’s his?!”

“Yep! Mixture of Pookie and Yoongi. He loves it.” He certainly does, but he would never admit it. Actually, he feels kind of odd right now. More… stiff than he was before he left. Like something… darker? Is radiating off of him. Though, it’s not actually dark. Just kind of… displeased. You can't seem to find the right word. 

“I can tell.” Jisung rolls his eyes, “He looks thrilled.” 

That only seems to further upset the man, his tail slowly curling around itself on instinct. Moving to find purchase on your waist. To pull you closer. To claim you. Sober thoughts slipping into a drunk mind, his actions freer than he normally allows them to be. 

Jealousy. That’s all he feels. Jealous that you just called someone who’s been openly hitting on you the entire season ‘extra special’. How fucking childish of him. He knows that even now, but he doesn’t want to stop. Everything that normally does feels as though they’ve gone into hibernation at this very moment.  

He just wants you. 

The next thing the Scorpion knows, he’s setting the drinks on the counter while you gaff away. Lifting you by your hips, sliding his form underneath yours with a grunt. Placing you on his lap and finally, making sure you’re secure to him with a hug of his tail around your midsection. 

He almost feels proud at your little squeal of surprise. At the blush on your cheeks. That’s right. He’s the only special one to you. This other man– other predator should know it. 

He knows he’ll regret this display in the morning. That he’ll feel utterly embarrassed by the whole thing. But right now Min Yoongi feels on top of the world. 

“Yoongi! What are you doing!” You hiccup out in surprise, trying to turn to face him. But he holds you still, holds you secure. Holds you safe just like he always makes sure you are. Gives you a response only by the shrug of his shoulders, his chin finding purchase in the crook of your neck. 

“W-well.. Fine then!” You huff, puffing out your cheeks just a little, “I’ll stay, but… just for a little! I’ll stay here for a little…” You grow a little quiet near the end, a little nervous. But you couldn’t feel more warm than in this moment. So heavenly. 

Jisung only laughs, what else is he meant to do anyway? A small, petulant part of Yoongi was hoping he’d run for the hills– he would with such aggressive scent marking. But then again, the other man is a human, probably doesn’t know anything about such a thing. 

The other part of Yoongi almost wants him to watch. Wants the other man to watch you drown in your own blush, watch as you learn more and more into the firm chest behind you. Feel the connection you two have that–

Oh, you’re laughing again too, what a pretty sound. The conversation picking up once again– Jisung is a conversationalist isn’t he. Yoongi almost wishes he was the same. Jealousy is an ugly emotion. It makes people do drastic things. It makes Yoongi want to do even more drastic things. 

If only he was human. 

If he was human he'd do so much more. Would have already done so much more. But now, in his current state of being, he couldn’t handle it. He wouldn’t be able to handle the rejection. He knows it. Knows it in the way mother’s comfort their children after one look at his tail, and knows it in the way you look at storms. 

Yoongi isn’t a tornado. You would never look at him the same way you look at them. With such love and light in your eyes. 

But god he wants you to, he wants you to more than anything. He wants to be an option. He wants to be the center of your universe just like those dumb fuck storms are. He wants to be the wind that plays with your hair, the rain that kisses your skin. He wants to be the very thing that envelopes your entire consciousness just like those storms do. 

And maybe, just maybe if he presses himself close enough to you he can. He can pretend with the poison in his blood that you like him. He can be yours, even if it's only for a night.

He would always be yours. You never his’. 

And as the night ticks on, venom bubbling up every second that ticks, he feels himself becoming looser. Feels you melting into his grip as pretty drinks and florals fill your mind. Feels your scent starting to overpower his nose as his mind blurs with thoughts of you. Almost feels the tangle of souls joining in the way he’s always wished them to.  

“Yoonie..” You hum, fingers coming up loosely to move through his hair in a way they only do when the two of you are alone, “He went to get a drink, can let me go now…seats open.” 

He almost feels annoyed at your words, and you can’t help but let the disappointment of them bubble, too. You don’t want him to let you go. In fact, you’d be happy staying like this forever. But you know Yoongi, you know he doesn’t like to be so… affectionate in public. He’s one to show his love quietly, something else you’ve come to find endearing over the years you’ve spent by his side. 

Only, you don’t feel relieved movements like you expected to, no. While his arms go lax, his tail almost pulls tighter. The two sides of him fighting, arguing over what to do next. And next, next you feel something so warm. So soft against your neck that you don’t know what to do. 

Lips. His lips are against your neck. A gentle press to the side of the column robbing you of your ability to breath, ability to think. Normal affectionate pecks are common, sure, when the two of you have spent too long reaserching and analysing the your brains are working a little slower than they normally do, they might even be seen as common. But this kiss, this kiss was slow. It was languid. It was so much more. Everything you’ve ever wanted. 

“Have to?” His words are quiet, gruff. Lips moving against your neck as he talks. Spoken to you alone in the world, emboldened by the alluring mix of jealousy and alcohol. 

You shake your head, much emboldened by the same. He never has to let you go. 

“Good.” You feel your heart in your ears, ready to explode as he moves his arm back around you, back to your hip to hold you steady, “Mine.” 

Neither of you ever expected that single, life altering word to ever leave his lips.

“Y-Yours?” You can’t help yourself, you need to make sure you heard him right. Needed to make sure this whole thing wasn’t a dream. That his lips, slowly kissing along the ridge of your shoulder are real and not a figment of your imagination. 

Though he doesn’t say it again, doesn’t will himself to. Instead the sound you hear is something low, one you’ve never heard him use against you. A gentle growl lodged in the back of his throat, confirming it. Confirming everything for your head and your heart to hear. 

“Yours…” You try again, tilting your head to the side, giving him more room. He hums in assurance, in want. 

You think you could die happy. 

The impossible. The impossible is claiming you for himself. Is holding the heart of the love struck college student, the nervous new-hire, the assured scientist all in the palm of his hand. Is confirming your affections. Confirming the fire brewing deep in your belly. The coals that have been slowly and tenderly cared for over time. 

Yoongi and the storms– they’re both your impossible, your fate finding reality. 

“Y-Yoongi I—” He tilts your chin, cutting you off mid sentence. Passion alight beneath the subtle glow of amber that robs you of your words. Lets you know exactly what you need to. Makes the fire burst into flames as his fingers gently dig into your hip, makes your entire body heat as he rubs in gentle circles. 

“I don’t like him.” He grunts, letting his forehead rest against yours, “Keeps you from me.” 

“No one can keep me from you.” The reply is instant, your lips barely missing his. “You’re for me.”

God, and at that moment you know that the prettiest noise in the world is Yoongi’s quiet groan. The way his eyes close, the way he practically pulls you down into his lap sends you into overdrive. The way he slowly rolls his own up is enough to send you into a puddle of your former being. 

The rest of the world is gone, entirely melted away from reality. Now, now it’s just you and Yoongi. Cornered away from the rest of the bar, out of sight. Out of mind. Just his hands slowly moving your hips to be seated on just one of his thighs, his tail making sure you’re secure. Just your scent driving him crazy.

He can tell how wet you already are. He can tell how much you want him, just as he wants you. 

The contact is rough, a little maddening. His jeans pressing up against yours, the thin cotton of your panties not doing much to stop the harsh heat. But you don’t want it to stop. You want him to do whatever he wants. 

“You’re wet.” He isn't shy to admit it. Isn’t shy to admit the smell invading his nose. Isn’t shy to let you know exactly what it’s doing to him with the rock of your hips. Letting you feel something hard pressed right against your back. 

“Shut up…” You instantly complain, whining as you lean your back against his chest, further into his touch. He cracks a soft smile at your words, rocking you back and forth so slowly, so carefully. Letting you feel every flex of the muscle, every rough movement of the jean against your clit. Savouring every second now that the threat of the other man has dissipated. Taking his time in case all of this is a dream and he will have to give you up tomorrow. 

“Why? Not cute when I say it?” He chuckles, jumping his leg slightly off the ground, sending a wave through your body. A shock of pleasure to the system that has a gentle moan tumbling from your lips. That has your hips sending a gentle buck back. That has your brain feeling as though it might become mush.

Yoongi is going to be the death of you, you’re sure of it. 

“Hey guys I…” Yoongi’s eyes find Jisung before your own do. Before the flushed expression on your face can quell and certainly before you can find a coherent thought. And suddenly the lazy foreplay in the corner of the bar is gone. Suddenly Yoongi is no more than an animal once again. 

“O-Oh! Jisung! S-sorry let me just–” You try, but there isn’t any use. No, Yoongi is pissed you even said his name. Pissed you tried to move away from him. Why would you try to move away from him? A predator with his m– prey being stolen right out from under him. A predator that has everything to gain and everything to lose. 

Yoongi isn’t thinking anymore as he stands, just barely keeping you upright as he pulls you away. Grabs your hand and leads you to the bathroom, locks the door once you’re both inside. 

Sanity is no longer present. Only the jealousy he feels inside. Only annoyance at the other man for trying to take you away from him. You said he was yours, that he was made for you. And the other predator dared try to take you? Take you from him when you were about to share something so sweet?

Yoongi knows he isn’t thinking right. Knows he might regret it in the morning– but he also knows if he doesn’t do something now he’ll regret it even more. For once, for once in his life he wants to be selfish. For once in his life he wants to forget he can’t ever have you because he’s a hybrid. For once he just wants you. 

You’d let him have you. Over and over again. For the rest of your lives. 

“Yoongi what are you–” He cuts you off with his lips against your own for he doesn’t know the answer. He’s letting himself just exist for once. Exist in the way he wants to without care. And all he wants right now is to kiss you. 

You couldn’t want anything more. Have been waiting your entire life to feel the press of his lips against your own. Kiss him back without a second thought– without reprieve. Let your mouth slip open easily for him, let everything get as messy as he wants. 

The time for gentle foreplay is over. No, now is the time to consume. 

Without a second thought he lifts you by your hips, your hands falling into place against his shoulder. Letting him lead, letting him take control as he fits his body against yours with such perfect harmony. Nobody would doubt you’re two pieces of the same puzzle, ready to fit together for the rest of eternity. 

He groans when he feels your hips press against his, as he feels your heat seep through layers of clothing. Cusses when he finally pulls back, sees the saliva collected at the corner of your lips. The hazy look in your eye that tells him you need him just as much as he needs you. That you want him so terribly you can’t help but fall against him for love, for safety. 

It’s just the alcohol.

Yoongi practically growls at his own thoughts, his tail rising in defence, in defiance against his own brain. Forcing the thoughts away, forcing everything away other than your body in the room. Other than your desire in the room. 

When his mind is no longer clouded he can come to terms with all of this, come to terms with his feelings and shove them so far back down they’ll never see the light of day– but now, right now he needs this. Needs it more than anything. 

“Want you.” He grunts, his knees falling onto the dirty bathroom floor. His hands splay against your thighs, feeling them. Worshipping the skin as if it is an altar. As if you’re his religion. “Can I?”

He doesn’t have to ask, he doesn’t need to. He would never have to ask you. Every single time you’d fall for the storm that is Min Yoongi. Over and over again. As if it’s as easy as breathing, as easy as thinking. 

The answer is even easier now– as your heart beats in your ears, as arousal pools in your gut. As his blunt fingernails dig themselves ever so slightly into your flesh, begging for entry. Begging for you to just give in. His cheeks a flush, his hair already a wreck. His chest rising and falling and thinking just for you. 

He looks like a god. 

“W-want you.” Your stutter makes you feel meak, but his groan of approval makes you feel strong. Makes you feel like your bubble has been popped, like the world finally has meaning past tornados and cataclysms. 

He takes your approval without any grace. Without a second to even think before he’s pulling your pants down with such hunger, such carnal need. His throat releases a groan of desire as your scent hits him at full force, as you give yourself to him. 

He can’t help himself as he presses his face against your panties, his nose right against your clit as he inhales. Takes in all of you for himself. Lets himself be greedy. 

“Y-Yoongi!” You squeak in surprise, the noise tapering into a whine. How could he do something so embarrassing! What is wrong with–

You can’t even finish the thought before his fingers pull your panties to the side, his eyes focused directly on your wet, needy cunt. “Smell good.” 

If you weren’t entirely red before, you certainly are now. There is no way you couldn’t be. Not with the hunger in his eyes. The fire in your belly. 

His tongue darts out, licking your pussy directly without a second thought. Parting your lips, collecting your arousal on his tongue. Tasting you, basking in everything you. Listening to the pretty little moan that comes from your parted lips. Falling apart without a second thought. 

And suddenly he’s hungry. Hungrier than he’s ever been in his entire life. Hungry in a way that he’s sure can only be satiated by you. By making you his. 

“Fuck, (Y/n)...” He almost sounds more affected than you are, like he could cum from your taste alone. But he can’t, he won’t let himself. He wants, needs to be inside of you more than everything. Needs to fuck you, consume every part of you like he so selfishly craves. 

“Gotta get you ready…” He’s talking to himself more than to you as he stands again, trying to keep himself from succumbing to the scorpion screaming at him to just claim you as his. He can only be selfish for tonight. This night. “You gonna be quiet for me? Can’t get caught.”

“Please…” Your voice is practically a whimper, practically begging him to just do something, anything. And who is he to deny you of such simple pleasures? Especially when you whine just for him, moan just for him. Jut your hips out ever so slightly to present yourself just to him. 

His thumb finds your clit almost instantly as you call out to him. Rubbing circles into the bundle of nerves with quick, fast precision while another digit presses against your leaking hole. Preparing you, getting you ready for the intrusion. 

Your voice is a siren’s song, and Yoongi then knows why pirates used to get lost at sea. Used to become entrapped by the mermaids that sang for them. He feels himself going crazy now, as your head tilts back. As your cunt flutters around nothing, begging him to slide his finger inside just as you both desperately crave. 

A buck of your hips is all he needs to fuck the digit inside, trusting it in and out slowly. Making sure it goes as deep as it can before curling and slowly retracting. Increasing pace with the volume of your sounds, with the circle of your clit. Combining sensation, driving you further and further into the clouds with every movement. 

It is then you know that his hands are a deadly poison, one you know you will fall apart to. Especially with the gentle sounds of his grunts, with the push of a second finger into your hole. With his heated gaze focused on nothing but how well you’re taking him, how you’re stretching so prettily around his fingers. 

You place your hand over your mouth, try to keep your moans to a minimum. Try to suppress every little sound that threatens to spill past your lips. Yet you can’t help it, how could you when he knows exactly where to curl his fingers? When they press right against that little bundle of nerves inside. When they rub against you so perfectly. 

“Y-Yoongi!” You accidentally shout, your hips bucking in surprise. The band growing tighter and tighter in your lower abdomen. Your eyes clouding with pleasure as your head feels lighter and lighter. 

He only smirks, gentle and sinful. “Found it.” 

He thrusts his fingers back in the exact same way, their pace hurried. Concise. Locating that exact same spot over and over again, curling his fingers up just right. Timing the strokes perfectly with a roll of your clit. You feel like you could scream, you’re going to scream.

“Y-You’re so mean!” You whimper, the hand on your clit moving to hold your thighs down. To resist your messy bucking. Resist your adorable begging for more. This other thumb moving to press against your clit instead. 

Then you see it, see the pretty brown thing that had you so enamoured to begin with. Remember just how sensitive it was when you touched it first, and just how mean he’s being to you now. 

With all the clarity you have left in your little brain you reach for his tail, hold it in your tiny hands. Whimper at how big it is, how strong it feels. How much it protects you. And without a second thought, you wrap your lips around the tip of it and moan. Using it as a gag, using it to stop your cries. 

Yoongi suddenly tenses below you, his entire frame shifting as your mouth sucks on the tip. Your eyes closed in concentration, little tears bubbling up in the corners as you whine around him. Fully focused on your pleasure, the feeling of his fingers inside of you– so close to falling apart. 

He thinks he could cum at that second. He’s sure of it. 

A choked groan leaves his own lips as his fingers resume their pace, his senses going into overdrive. No longer thinking, no longer able to do anything but act. But take and take and give and give until there's nothing left.

And god he wants to burn this picture into his brain. Wants to cement it into the rest of his thoughts, his very being. His movements are messier, faster as he fucks his fingers into your cunt. Doesn’t care about the noise as his tail moves on its own, slowly thrusting in and out of your mouth. Your g-spot battered, you clit burning with pleasure. 

Sounds that resemble words fall deaf on your tongue as the band finally breaks, as the world around you spins. As you find euphoria from Yoongi’s fingers. The eye of the storm befalling your very being as electricity moves down your spine as the winds subside. 

You’re left panting in front of him, your walls tightening as he slowly coaxes you through it. Helps you feel every ounce of pleasure that you deserve. Kisses your shoulder gently, softly, watching you come down from your high. 

You can only whine at the affection, the fog lifting for a brief second as he slowly pulls his fingers out of you. You feel so empty– too empty. You still want him. You still want so much more. 

You try to say his name, try to vocalise but it only sends vibrations down his tail. A groan leaving his lips, heat still heavy in his eyes. You realise his tail is still moving, still slowly moving in and out of your mouth. You know he isn’t finished.

You know you never want him to be. 

You raise your leg up, kicking, trying to push his pants down. Begging them to just drop a little lower. To get his cock out so he can fuck you properly. So he can make you feel so much more full of everything him. 

He lets out a chuckle of a scoff, his bangs falling in front of his eyes as he shakes his head, “Needy.” He grunts, yet he feels the exact same way. Removing his tail from your mouth, finally letting you speak. Ignoring the way his heart hammers at the sight of your puffy, glossed lips. 

“Shut up.” Is the only reply you can muster, hands quickly moving to try and shove his pants down. To try and get him inside of you. He just smiles, the predatory glint never leaving his eyes. The dig of his nails never leaving your thigh. 

Finally, with your messy attempts you urge them down, force the annoying material down his thighs, his boxers moving right along with it. And fuck, you can’t help but gawk. Can’t help but whine because shit, you’ve never seen a cock so pretty! What the hell! That isn’t fair! None of this is fair and he hates you!

“You hate me.” You whimper, letting him take the lead once again. Following as he slowly leans you back, manoeuvres your hips in exactly the way he wants. Presents your puffy, fluttering cunt just for him. Messy and aching, desperate for more. 

“Maybe.” He smiles, teasing you. He’s teasing you! Can you believe that! You certainly can’t, a whine and a gentle smack to his chest telling him everything he needs to hear. Yet you’re forgetting about it all too quickly as you feel the head of something hard gently press against your lips.

In your hazed stupor, you completely missed the action. The way he gripped his cock in his hands, the languid strokes he’s made up and down the length. The way he flicked his thumb over the head just before he decided to so sinfully trace it along your slit. Teasing himself, tracing around your hole with the head. You think he might kill you. 

He thinks much of the same. 

“I’m on birth control.” You messily squeak out of the blue, eyes trained between your bodies where he’s so close. So very close to fucking himself inside. Into being exactly where you want him. Snapping that final line you two could never come back from. 

His eyes dart up to your face, something dark in the iris. Something neither of you address as he finally lets go of his last bit of reserve. As his lips slam into yours, consuming your very being. 

His hand finds your leg, pulling it up, resting it against his hip to draw you closer. In one single thrust drawing all the air out of your lungs, removing all thoughts from your head as he thrusts his entire length inside. Filling you, stretching you in the most perfect way. In a way you never imagined another person could do.

Your cries are drowned by his lips, his own curses lost in the same. The stretch, the burn is subtle, yet you could never want anything less. Anything more than the euphoric feeling of Yoongi feeling your ever being. 

“Shit…” He finally lets himself breathe, let himself have a moment to feel you. Feel your plush walls wrapped around his length, feel you fluttering around him so perfectly. You’re going to make him insane. 

He pants softly, trying to wait– trying to hold himself back from fucking you so hard you can’t walk. So hard he’ll have to carry you out of this shitty bar. So that everyone will know what the two of you did. Just who you belong to. 

You give an experimental wiggle of your hips, a signal to move. A signal to stop holding back. The only signal that he needs. 

“Yoongi!” The cry is loud, but he can’t seem to care anymore. The pace he takes is anything but slow. It's fast, hard. Rushed. Like he can’t wait a single second longer. Can’t waist a fucking millisecond doing anything else other than laying claim to your soul. 

His hips snap against your own, his cock practically hitting your cervix with every thrust. His cock pressed against that same bundle inside every time he draws back, every time he fills you again and again. It’s messy– messy and so wet. So perfect. 

“Fuck, fuck.” He mutters to himself, damp hair falling into his eyes, “Have to be quick, gonna fuck you hard, okay?” 

He drawls, scratchy. Rough. Pressing his hips fully against yours, fully feeling your slick heat. The lewd noises bouncing against the walls, filling the space. Sending a symphony into your strumming ears. Into your already worn out frame. 

You nod in agreement quickly, almost dumbly as you try to fall into a rhythm. Try to meet his movements the best you can. It feels pointless, all of it does. Trying to do anything feels so pointless when he’s fucking you so relentlessly. Like he’s waited his entire life for this moment and he’d rather die than waste another second.

Fucking you like it means something. Like you mean everything.

“Shit, (Y/n). So fucking wet.” He groans, his head rolling back, no longer able to look at the mess between your legs, “So needy.” 

You whine, shaking your head. Trying to gain a semblance of reality when it feels like it has been shattered in the most beautiful way.

“Sh-Shut up!” You whine, your walls clenching around his cock, “A-Am! Am not!” 

Your denial sends a wave of something through Yoongi. Something that makes him growl, that makes his sight darken just a bit more. 

“You’re not?” He scoffs, his eyes finding your own, reading you like an open book, “Little fucking liar.” 

His pace changes, taking shape into a different beast entirely. Something new. His thrusts turn from messy, hurried to sharp and precise– the pace never changing. Every single thrust knocking the wind from your lungs, changing the very shape of your DNA to scream for him and only him.

“Y-Yoongi what the fuck?!” You whine, your head knocking back, hitting the glass behind you. Even more of your brain cells scrambling, trying to stay in reality. Trying not to float off in the great beyond where Yoongi wants you to stay. 

“Hmm?” He grunts, his eyes focused back downwards. Right to where your slick coats him, to where a pretty white ring has formed around the base. He won’t last long. Even if he wants to keep fucking you forever, he knows he’s done for. “Thought you weren’t needy.”

You whine, unable to stop the band from pulling tight in your gut once again. Unable to stop the pleasure from coursing through your veins. Already a wreck– your body warm with sweat and your hole fluttering uselessly around him. Trying to draw him back in over and over.

Never get him to leave. 

His voice is suddenly in your ear, far closer than you remember him being. Far closer than you can manage him being. Fuck, and now his thumb is pressing against your clit again. You don’t know what you can do, what to do. 

“You can cum if you just admit it, human.” You’re going insane. “Tell me how fucking needy you are for me. C’mon, do it. I know you can.” 

It’s over for you. You had no clue Yoongi could ever be like this, no clue just how much you’d want it. How much you’d love it. Even as tears bubble in the corners of your eyes from the pleasure, even as your hips buck up weakly to meet his thrusts. As his cock makes you feel like you’re about to enter the pearly gates. 

You know you love it. 

“Y-Yoongi!” You whimper, your hands gripping his shoulders with so much strength you think they might bruise. Hell, you’re sure he’s bruised your hips. There isn’t much difference. “I-I!” 

“Mhmm..” He hums, sounding entirely unaffected on the surface, yet it’s clear he’s falling apart just as much as you. Clear in the way his hips stutter so slightly, losing their pace. Clear in the way he holds you tighter and tighter. The way his tail curls possessively around your leg. “You can do it. Say it, human.”

“I-I’m needy!” You whine, forgetting your volume, “I-I need you, Yoongi!” 

Just like that, he’s tumbling off the edge. Your words acting as an anchor, as the very thing he’s wanted to hear for years. His hips stuttering inside of you, filling your cunt with his cum without a second thought. 

“Cum, pretty thing.” His voice is guttural. A command as your legs lock around him. His thumb never giving your clit reprise.  while he doesn’t stop the movement of his thumb. Your own release finding you the second you feel his cock twitch inside of you, the moment you feel his cum leak inside. 

Winds swirl at your very being. Lifting you higher and higher into the clouds as your walls clench around him. Milking him for everything, for all he’s worth. Making sure every drop lands inside, making sure you stay nice and full of him while your head wanders into the clouds. While every bit of your being feels fireworks. 

Your legs don’t even let go as the two of you slowly begin to calm down. As your heart rates try to return to normal and air returns to your lungs. As Yoongi’s length slowly begins to soften inside of your cute, worn little cunt. 

You don’t want to let go. You never want to let go. 

His grip slowly softens on your hip. Thumb working to rub slow, gentle circles in their place. His lips finding the column of your throat once more– gentle, nipping kisses find home over the marks he left while sitting at the bar. Not any real bonding  marks like his scorpion may have wanted, but pretty red things that claim your skin in a human way. 

Your fingers find his strands, knotting themselves in them. Keeping his head where it belongs. You’ve never felt more loved, more wanted in this moment. 

You never want it to end. 

“Needy…” He smiles to himself, shaking his head softly. His hair tickles your ear. “Can’t believe you actually said it.” 

“Y-you!” You try, realising how severely you’re still out of breath. You hate how quickly he’s bounced back. “You made me! You ass!” 

He only smiles, shaking his head. Still in complete and utter disbelief that this is real, “I wanted to hear it. You were cute.” 

Your legs finally relax when you whine. They easily fall on either side of him, kicking slightly in petulance as he pulls away from your cunt. Removing himself from you, smiling as his cum starts to collect at your opening. 

This still all has to be a dream for him, it has to be. 

“You hate me!” You repeat again, warmth coming to your cheeks once more as his hands find your cunt. One thump pulling your lip open, letting him see just how much of a mess he’s made you. Letting him watch as his cum drips from your core. 

“Maybe.” He can’t help the fond glow in his eyes as he kisses your cheek. A thought coming to the forefront of his brain that he forces back. Another thought he could never let surface, not even now as you’re stuffed with his cum. 

His scorpion still preens all the same, though. Filled with thoughts of kids. Thoughts Yoongi, the human, not the scorpion, would never say aloud. Drunk, tipsy, or sober. 

He reaches for the dispenser, grabbing a few paper towels before turning on the sink and running them under. Not the best tool, but it will do. 

“Well, I don’t hate you…” You’re blushing as you say the words, almost embarrassed without real reason to be. What you just did, it was so much more than ‘I don’t hate you.’ At least, it wasn’t to you. You hope it wasn’t for him either. 

You help him with his pants, reaching your hands down and pulling them up slowly for him, “I don’t hate you either.” He rolls his eyes, gently cleaning the space between your legs. 

“Awkward if you did.” You huff, lifting your hips as he moves your underwear back in place. Stay hovering as he slides your jeans back up as well. 

He leaves a gentle press against your temple, offering you a hand as you hop off the counter. Hips and legs already entirely too sore, a whine shedding your throat as you let him know the pain. All while he only laughs, patting your butt as he helps you walk.

The picture of domesticity. 

Neither of you address the elephant in the room, both for entirely different reasons. For radically different realities. The morning would be better anyway, you surmise. With fluid thoughts and no liquor in your system. 

You assume Yoongi feels the same way as you both walk home. Gentle shoulders and banter thrown around as casually as ever. The only solid thing the both of you know: you can never go back to that bar again.

God, your fucking head hurts. Maybe?? Maybe everything hurts? When the hell did the sun get so loud?! Since when did light feel like fucking screaming, man?! This isn’t fair! Nothing is fair and the world hates you! Exclusively you, and no one but you!

No, that’s not true. That’s completely illogical, actually. But you can’t find it in yourself to care. Especially when your head is buzzing and your stomach is already growling for some kind of food. 

Oh god, food would be so good right now. Warm steamy pancakes, eggs, some kind of potato with a dash of Yoongi to eat it with like you do every morning. 

Suddenly, the other side of the bed feels entirely too cold. Freezing. A void empty where the warmth you felt last night should reside.

He fell asleep there, you're sure of it. You remember the feeling of his arms around you, the soft snores that left his lips after you both stumbled into bed. Barely getting undressed before falling into your bed. You remember everything about last night. So much so that you can’t help the heat that rises to your cheeks at the memory. The thought of everything done in that dingy bathroom, all the words spoken, the care professed. 

Even if you were tipsy, you would never forget it. You would never regret it. Were waiting to wake up in his arms to make everything official– a long overdue conversation that would finally set in motion your lives together. 

So where the hell is he?

A pout forms on your lips as you stretch, your body too tight for the morning and even more so for your search. The soreness in your hips, the bruises he left from his grip a brutal reminder of his absence as you sit up, your eyes squinting as you scope the scene.

You don’t think you like what you see– it’s a weird feeling, honestly. His bag is gone, his shoes are gone, his clothes are gone. For the first time in all the years you’ve known him, he feels utterly gone. Not a speck of him in your room, not a single sign he was even on this trip with you. 

Does he regret…

The frown pulls deeper as you reach for your phone. You definitely don’t like this feeling. Like he wasn’t even there to begin with after everything that just happened. 

“Ah, stop it.” You say to yourself, one of your hands coming up to gently pat your cheek. You hate where your brain is going so quickly. Maybe you’re just a sop that needed more aftercare than he knew about– yeah, that's probably it. He probably just wanted to go back to his own room and shower before you had to work today. See, that makes much more sense, doesn’t it? You nod your head, almost in agreement with your thoughts. Set on your decision, on the most-likely-possible solution. 

[9:27am] To: Poongie

> Goodmorning :> I hope you slept well 

> Did you wanna go get breakfast at the diner? I think I’m dying and only hashbrowns can fix me unfortunately 

You wish you could say you weren’t affected– wish you could say you weren’t sitting there, waiting for a response. Heart beating out of your chest like a schoolgirl in love. It’s silly, isn’t it? What emotions can make you feel inside and out. How they can seem to affect every part of your being without even trying. 

You suppose storms are the same way. Suppose all natural forces are– the sun, the moon, the stars. They all have their own cosmic power that distils someone at their very core. Leaving them waiting, abating in agony over a simple text back from the man you like. 

You toss your phone to the side, choosing to get ready instead of imagining anymore fantasies. You live in reality, a woman of science. There’s no sense in trying to explain everything you feel, only accepting that you feel it. 

Mmm. As you get dressed, you wonder how long you’ll be able to go on like that for. 

[10:02] From: Poongie

> gm

> i already ate

Oh. You don’t like that. In fact, you hate it so much you want to start making a powerpoint presentation on how to text just for him. But, you give him the benefit of the doubt once more. Yoongi has never been a good texter, anyway. You’re lucky if you can get more than a two word reply from him. He prefers phone calls. 

[10:03] To: Poongie

> So u hate me okay

> Come sit with me tho, I don’t want to look like a loser

> Meet me down there in 5 ;P

You give a soft smile as he reacts to your final text with a thumbs up. It doesn’t leave you feeling the best, but he’s not avoiding you entirely. And he never has been a morning person. Plus, he’s probably hungover too and doesn’t wanna look at his phone screen. You two are fine and last night was amazing. And soon you could make everything official. 

Your smile grows. Yeah. Yeah, that all makes perfect sense. 

You know what doesn’t? A lot of things, actually. Too many to count, but you try anyway. 

One. 

Yoongi walking in 10 minutes late acting like nothing happened. Like you didn’t happen. Just sliding into the seat across from yours, the thick plastic of the booth squeaking while he does so. His hands stuffed in his pants, nothing but a nod in your direction to acknowledge your existence. His face utterly blank, entirely neutral. 

Never once has Yoongi greeted you with less than a gummy smile. A ruffle of your hair. A jab at your tired appearance. But you ignore it– ignore the sense of unease, of dread already building inside. He must really have a bad hangover, poor guy. 

“Goodmorning!” You chirp brightly, a smile of a thousand suns cast in only his direction. Your usual greeting, of course. Maybe just a little extra chipper to balance him out. To try and prepare yourself, maybe to get a little excited for the conversation to come. Pull him out of any awkward tension he may be feeling. 

“Goodmorning.” He simply replies back, his eyes following the waitress as she places a cup of coffee, extra sweet, in front of him. His usual order. Something you’d never forget. Something he knows you’d never forget, but the way he stares into the warm liquid says otherwise. 

His eyes never stray from the cup, like he's thinking. Like he wants to say something but doesn’t quite know how. Like he isn’t sure whether to ignore it or bring it to light. 

You know that look well, and you don’t want to ignore it. 

Two. 

He calls the waitress back and orders another coffee. Black. 

He hates his coffee black. You know this. Everyone does. He hasn’t had the stuff since before he met you. You opened him to the world of how delicious sweet drinks can be. So why the hell is he planning on pretending to like something he doesn’t? It makes no sense to you– your expression shows it all. Eyebrows quirking together, lips pushing outwards slightly. 

“Wow, the great Min Yoongi is changing up his order?” A creature of habit never does, you would know yourself, “Hangover that bad?” 

You try to lighten the mood, raise the cloud that hangs above the booth. Or maybe it’s a cloud only you feel, you’re not sure. It doesn’t matter anyway, does it? 

“Mmm, you could say that.” He grunts, his chin tucking ever so slightly to his chest. His tail curling closer. Almost defensive. Almost.

“God yeah,” The conversation feels stunted, and you hate that even more. “My head has been throbbing since I woke up. I don’t know if I drank too much or not enough.” The banter isn’t flowing as easily, and he curls in on himself even more. Almost like the mere mention of last night rings alarm bells in his mind. 

Oh! Okay, yeah. Maybe he’s just nervous about everything that happened, you know? Maybe he’s worried that you don’t remember, or that you’re having different feelings about it. Maybe his brain is playing the same tricks on him that trickled into your consciousness that morning! 

Yeah, okay. That makes so much more sense now that you think about it. You have to stop beating around the bush, just come out and say everything you think. Everything you feel and you can talk about it. You’ll just bring it up– he obviously isn’t going to, but then you’ll be in a relationship by the time your pancakes come out! Perfect! 

Yet as you look up at him, find his face utterly void of anything, your confidence wanes. 

Three.

He’s refusing to look at you. Another thing he never does. You’re always the one to avoid eye contact, never him. You’re always the one to stare out the window, not him. He normally looks at you. Normally basks in you. 

You feel your mouth drying, all words becoming lost on your tongue the longer you stare at his disposition. You don’t break it as the silence becomes awkward, as he doesn’t try to do anything to fix it. Simply sips at his coffee. His disgusting coffee. 

Drinks it until it empties. Until the pancakes now in front of you remain nearly untouched and cold. Until the world stops spinning and time freezes. As the comet hits and the world ends. As society descends into chaos yet you can’t do anything but look at him. 

Okay, maybe you’re exaggerating. But that’s exactly how it feels for some strange reason. How it feels to be unable to reach him. 

It isn’t until he grabs his coat, sliding $30 across the table that you finally gain the courage to speak. Finally blurt out the words sitting on the tip of your tongue for the last 20 minutes. 

“We should talk about last night.” You didn’t expect to say anything honestly, shocked at the air leaving your lungs. 

And finally, finally he looks at you. The diner is still frozen, yes, but now he’s looking at you and for some reason that’s all that matters.

A deep drag of air fills his lungs as he sags his shoulders, rigid disposition weakening in attempt to show signs of aloof. His tail gives everything away. Sharp and pointed. Unnerved. 

“What is there to talk about?” 

Oh. 

“What?” You feel blood leave your face, “Everything. There’s everything to talk about.” 

He sighs, his eyes almost rolling at your words. Everything he does is ten times louder. Ten times greater than any storm, any power in the entire universe. 

Four. 

“Listen, (Y/n). Last night was a mistake, okay?”

Oh.

Is it possible for the Earth to stop rotating around the sun? For the moon to find home in another planet? Is it possible for the rings of Saturn to disband, to crack and shatter, leaving the planet feeling hollow? No more than a gaseous ball floating around an unyielding core forcing it to stay together?

It has to be. Because if it’s possible for Yoongi to say those very words, say the very words that are able to rip your soul from your body, you think anything is. 

You feel something in you crack. Something so fragile and innocent that you want to protect it with your everything. Run far and hide. Nurse it alone until it stops kicking and screaming for its unending pain to yield. For it to have rest in a world that only seems to take and take and take. 

“What?” You don’t even care that your voice cracks. 

He sighs again, his gaze dropping to the table. “I just don’t think there’s anything to talk about, okay?”

“There’s a lot to talk about.” Your eyebrows crinkle, your mouth moving into a frustrated frown. Red isn’t a colour you feel often, but your walls are up. Your bubble now a sphere frozen in time– a place with room for no one but you. Your body curled around that innocent glow. Protecting it. Keeping it warm. “For one, calling it a mistake.” 

He’s rigid again too, maybe red glowing around his form as well. But you can’t seem to care. Not right now. Maybe not ever. Not able to sense the danger. The tail pointed in your direction. Venom dripping from his lips.

“Wasn’t it? We’re friends (Y/n). One stupid night shouldn’t change that shit.” It changes fucking everything. Especially with your pining. Especially with your heart on your sleeve. With your affections for him always oh-so-fucking obvious. 

“Like hell it–” He cuts you off. 

“We’re done with this conversation. Just forget last night ever happened.” He stands, not planning on waiting around anymore. Not waiting for you anymore. “Just act like it never did. Nothing has to change. We’re not talking about this anymore.” 

With that he leaves without letting you speak. Without letting you talk. Shutting you down entirely in a way he never has before. In a way he promised he would never do to you. And for the first time since you discovered your crush on him, you feel something negative simmering for Min Yoongi. 

Q/Hybrids_Humans 

U/YGS_Min  •  posted 5y ago

Can Hybrids and Humans actually fall in love? -> Advice

> Hi. I’m new to this page so I might get things wrong with this post. Sorry in advance if I do. 

> I am a Hybrid and I recently met a girl who I think is my mate. I get all the classic mate feelings someone does when I’m around her. When we first met, a few days ago in the library, I automatically felt a pull towards her. Like I needed to be close to her. Everything in my body, my hybrid side especially, was begging for me to make her my mate right away. She even complimented my tail. Does she even know what that means? What it did to me?

> After that, she gave me her number (I’m helping her with a few things) (we're both ‘in’ college) and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. Whenever I open my phone my brain automatically fries and moves to open her contact so I can text or call her. It actually feels a little crazy. 

> She said she wants to be friends and I don’t know what my brain is going to do if we actually get closer. 

>The issue is that she's human, though. So I already know she doesn’t feel the same way about me. She doesn’t feel the bond or the pull to get closer. And she already knows I’m a hybrid so there’s no way to avoid it. 

> I’m also not the most friendly Hybrid, I guess. People don’t like my species. My mom doesn’t even like the way I was born. And I’m lucky enough to get away from where I was before and am living my own life now. Trying to do good things with it. Maybe be human with it, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter anyway. 

> Point is, I’ve looked online and while I know legally it is possible to be mates with a human, I haven’t found anything about Human’s with more odd species. And I really just want to know if this could be possible, or if I should give up before things even start. She’s the prettiest person I’ve ever seen. Her mannerisms kill me– I love them. She’s so cute. And she acted like I was just like everyone else. 

> I don’t know. I want her to be my mate. But I just want to know other peoples experiences. I know she’d never be able to love me in the way I automatically do her, but if I told her she was my mate would she feel forced into it? Would she feel like I actually care? Could she ever actually care? Should I do anything about it or just pretend that it was never there in the first place? 

> I never thought my mate might be human. I never thought I'd find my mate. Any advice would be appreciated. Thanks. 

6 am. 

Yoongi isn’t sure if he’s slept. He’s not sure he’s ever slept with the exhaustion weighing on his bones. His consciousness. His very being. In fact, all he’s had is his thoughts as the hours have ticked by, unrelenting. Unwavering. As the sun starts to shine through the curtains and the reality of everything that transpired rushes to the surface. Past the alcohol. Past your adorable soft snores. 

He had you. He fucked you. For one night, you belonged to him. 

The first thing he felt after he held you in bed was peace. Complete and utter satisfaction with life, with you. Everything itching at him, pulling him towards you was, for once, content. He no longer felt the burning in his heart or the pulling at his skin to get you closer. The fuzziness in his brain whenever you smiled. All of it was gone. There was nothing but happiness in his being. 

Nothing but the ideas of his dream being true. Of getting to hold you like this every night. Getting you to smile for him, only him. Getting to belong to you in ways humans could never understand. 

In ways you could never understand. 

Something else starts creeping into his consciousness, then. Something starting in the pit of his stomach, rising until it feels like he's choking. Until not even the scent of your shampoo can calm the race of his heart. Not even the pull of his tail drawing you closer to his body– his hybrid side trying to calm him down in ways it only knows how. 

How could Yoongi let himself live in such a sick dream? 

You’re a human. He’s a hybrid. You would never actually love him. 

Your words were drunk– of course they were. Influenced by the alcohol and the idea of a warm body next to your own. Maybe you didn’t even realise it was him, maybe it could have been anyone and you would have been satisfied. 

It’s such an ugly thing, the words he thinks. The ideas that form behind his skull, twisting and turning. Forming an amalgamation of tangles and death defying drops to nothingness. Of the reality of things, his reality that is. One where he’s worthless. One where you are the sun and he is nothing but an asteroid following the orbit of someone else. 

Hybrids are never meant to be with humans. 

He knows that for a fact. Has read all the history books, looked at all the articles, scoured for any sign that the two of you could be together in a society that hates him only to be left with mockery. Left with anonymous strangers telling him that scorpions are meant to kill. Meant to destroy. How could a human ever care about him when his entire life he’s been told it’s the worst parts of himself? How could you care about him?

Well, he knows that isn’t all true. He knows you care in some ways. But they aren’t mate ways and–

Fuck. Fuck Yoongi, he knows he’s not supposed to think of those things. He’s never allowed to think of you and that word together. He forbade himself of it. Promised himself it couldn’t be true. That he would never admit it to you or anyone else. 

You are not his mate. 

But you are. 

But–

He wishes he could get his head to shut the fuck up for a fucking second so he could think. Think about anything other than those two words together, even if he knew them to be true from the moment he met you in the library. When he agreed to be your tutor. When he fell in love the moment you looked his way. 

And even then he thought that maybe, just maybe if you didn’t know he was a hybrid he would have a chance. That if he could keep it hidden for long enough, if you saw him as a human and not a terrifying creature bred only to kill, that you could fall for him. That he could be your mate– boyfriend. That he could be your boyfriend. 

But then you saw it. Saw the fucking thing he wishes he never had, wishes he could live without. The very thing he has been hated for his entire life. His genetic abnormality, originally bred to be used for attack, used by the government to kill. The very piece of his being he rejects time and time again to try and just feel a little more normal, a little more human. And you… you said you liked it. 

And no, you didn’t have any clue what those words meant at the time. Of course you didn’t. Didn’t know what they implied– didn’t know the true meaning they held. The acceptance of courtship behind their very tone. 

A nice tail to a human? Nothing. A nice tail to a scorpion? The very thing used by the hybrid to attract mates? To show their viability and strength as a partner? Everything. 

In that moment, you were everything. 

But you didn’t know the meaning behind those words. You didn’t love him the way he so implicitly did you. And while you accepted him as a friend, you would never accept him as more. He would never let you. 

That night was the night he promised himself you weren’t his mate. Promised himself he had no mate. 

Last night was the first time he ever broke it. 

Last night he could have killed you. 

You had his tail in your mouth. His tail. The tail that carries his venom. The venom bred into his cells meant to kill others. If he let any of it out by accident… if he…

Fuck. 

The heaviness that realisation brings is what finally makes him get out of bed. Finally set in motion reality. Stop himself from living in whatever dream he was playing with. Stop playing house with a girl that would never be his. That would probably think the entirety of last night was a mistake. 

Who gives a shit what you thought. He could’ve killed you. He could’ve killed his fucking mate.

Societally, he could’ve never had you. He wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if you had to face the same things he did on the daily. What others thought of you. What they would say about you if they saw you two together. What would happen with your kids. How much hate and fear you would receive by being with him. 

He could sacrifice his own life for you a thousand times, but he would never let you do the same for him.

And last night. Last night his venom could’ve been your end. 

He doesn’t need to think anymore. He knows what he’s going to do. Even if it hurts him. Even if the grenade is set to go off and destroy his very being, it’s worth it to keep you safe. To keep you content. To keep you away from him.

Best case, you don’t remember last night or don’t bring it up. Worst…

Yoongi knows the ship he’s boarding is bound to sink– that he’s destined to drown. But if it means your happiness, he’d do anything.

The car feels cold. The heat is blasting, but it still feels frozen. Decrepit. All fireplace memories hazing into ice as you ride next to him. 

Him.

Fucking him.

Fucking Min Yoongi. The fucking asshole that tore your heart out and stomped on it. The fucking asshole that didn’t even have the decency to talk to you. To explain why the fuck he was being so cold. The fucking asshole that made you feel loved. Like you weren’t alone in the entire universe, only to make you realise you were trapped in a metal box– steaming. Bubbling.

Maybe you aren’t cold. No, you definitely aren’t. You’re steaming. Burning up– ready to explode at the slightest thing. Still a burning blaze because he didn’t fucking let you talk. Just shut you down without a second thought. Without fucking anything.

Not that he owes you anything– he doesn’t owe you a relationship. He doesn’t owe you love, of course not. You’re not dumb enough to think that. But you do know he owes you an explanation. A chance to speak. Years of friendship tell you that much. 

Promises tell you that much. 

And you can’t fucking stand broken promises. Can’t stand acting like strangers after years of friendship. After all the time spent together. After all of the memories formed, all the bonds created. You don’t deserve to be treated like nothing. 

Hell, he probably wouldn’t have even come with you today if you hadn’t texted him. Probably assumed you’d rather go alone or with one of the other people on the crew. Probably– shut up, you decide in that moment to stop making excuses for him. To stop giving him the benefit of the doubt when he treated you as no less than a one-night-stand. A fuck that meant nothing. 

Were fucking years of friendship just for that? Just so he could fuck you? This fucking–

You scoff to yourself, crossing your arms over your chest. Shaking your head. An outloud reaction to the continued spiral that started this morning, that will continue to brew until it inevitably boils over. Until the pot filled with too much water gets too hot and just boils over. 

You never have been able to keep your opinions in. Open book pages laid out for the world to see. Another reason you’ve always been alone– should have stayed alone in your bubble. 

“What?” Oh, he wants to talk to you now? 

Your eyes shoot over to his figure from the corner of your eye. You can’t believe that yesterday you were smiling at him. You hate that today a piece of you still frets at the trapping of his fingers against the wheel. At his apparent aloof demeanour is automatically disillusioned by the simple movement indicating his nerves. 

He always does that when he knows a big storm is coming– when he’s worried about safety, your safety. When he's concerned about whatever events are going to follow. A tick tick tick, fingers tapping delicately one after the other. Not a harsh grab against the wheel, not an unease of temperament. Yoongi, even when nervous or agitated, has always been gentle. 

Well, every time except for this morning. 

You roll your eyes. 

As much as you hate how self destructive you become in times like these, you hate the bubbling feeling even more. Hate the strong emotion that floods your veins, the same one that makes you feel oh-so weak. The same one that makes you need to be strong. Need to be more.

Maybe you wish you could be more like Yoongi– be entirely unaffected by the strong feelings that permeate your being. Maybe you wish you could act as ‘chill’ as him. To separate how you feel from who you are. To be calm even if you want to be brash. 

But you can’t. Not when it's about him. Never when it’s about him. Almost like a piece of you continues and will always pull you towards Min Yoongi. 

You turn away from him, back to the laptop resting in your lap. “The PAR says a tornado is forming north-east. Head North so we can drop the doppler in the right position.”

“Mm.” He grunts. Doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t do anything. 

You don’t know what you expect him to do anyway. You didn’t give him anything to work with. Yet it doesn’t seem thinking logically is on the table, and you can’t help but get more mad, more frustrated by the second.

“Are we really not going to talk about this?” You’re quiet, almost vulnerable when you ask the question. So quiet he might not even hear. Hanging on the precipice, two winds twisting against each other in equal strength. 

Never have you felt this way about another person before. Dejection and anger weigh equally on the soul. You don’t quite know how to handle it. Don’t know how to combat what you’re feeling inside, just knowing the kettle is set to boil. 

He doesn’t answer your question. 

It was probably a bad idea to text him. Probably equally bad for him to answer and take you. An even worse idea to let the words slip out of your mouth without holding them back.

“Asshole.” The wind starts to pick up speed around the car, sucking you in. Pulling you deeping into the void. It’ll be no time at all before the tornado hits. 

“What?” His head jerks backwards, chin tucking ever so slightly to his chest. His tail coiled firmly behind him, acting like it isn’t even there. Trying to pretend he isn't there, maybe. 

“I said you’re a fucking asshole.” You can’t help the rumble that forms in your heart, the twisted words that spew from your mouth. The subtle ache from every insult you fling. 

Almost like you’re attached to him. Like you’re attempting to sever a chain never meant to come undone. 

“What the fuck?” Why he’s acting so scandalised, flinching at every word, leaves you almost confused. Almost. Because he has no reason to be confused, at least not in your eyes. Not in the storm's eyes either. 

The rumble of thunder hammers outside, deeper into the freeze. Deeper into ash. 

“I thought we were going to move past this, (Y/n). We need to be adults here.” He sighs that stupid fucking sigh that you hate. The same one he used in the diner. The same one he used to brush off your feelings. Your chance to speak. 

Maybe later you would reflect on how selfish you’re being. Maybe later you would realise how childish you actually are acting. But right now all you can see is red. Right now all you can feel is a part of yourself trying to rip away. 

Maybe later you would find out Yoongi is feeling the exact same thing. 

But right now, right now all you see is red. All you hear is the beating of hail against the car roof, the image that it is your own heartbeat set in your own mind. Right now all you know is the soul crushing weight of the only man you ever loved pulling away.

Your soulmate– if such things were real, breaking the bond. 

“Are you serious? I’m the one that needs to be the adult here? Me?” You scoff, indignant. “You’re the one playing pretend, acting like nothing happened!” 

“I told you that we shouldn’t talk about it.” 

“You said it was a mistake.” Your eyes are set firm in a glare pointed at him and no one but him. Petty and Spite are your new best friends. Congratulations! “Just tell me if you fucking regret it Yoongi, just tell me.”

“(Y/n).” 

“Was it a drunk accident? Did you think I was someone else? Please! I rather you say fucking something than nothing at all! Please just let me be selfish for once! I’m begging for something! Anything!”

…

“We have a job to do. Focus on it rather than us.” You hate that he paused before he spoke, that it gave you some sort of hope. You hate even more that his tone has not once changed– settling from incredulous to neutral. Almost like he exists as nothing but a robot reciting lines. You hate it. You hate it. You hate it. 

He makes you feel like a child throwing a tantrum. He makes it feel like your feelings mean nothing. Like everything you trusted him with was all for naught. Are you not expressing yourself well enough? Are you a complete idiot? What the fuck are you doing wrong?! What's wrong?!

“You’re serious?” The logical side of you says he’s right, your job is more important than anything else. But the piece of you falling apart, pulling away and leaving an empty hole inside feels otherwise. You’re convinced you’ve never felt any emotion other than frustration and annoyance. 

The car rolls to a stop as a clearing hits– hail ceasing, wind slowing even if it's just a fraction.  A calm before the storm. Where you’re meant to ‘dO yOuR jOb’-- fucking asshole. Does he really think you don’t know that? Does he really think that little of you?

“Fucking joke.” You can’t help the dry laugh that exits your lungs as you step out of the car. Your peace, the time you love to spend most in the world set askew, your feelings anything but. You love your time in the storms, but the tornado brewing inside casts a much larger shadow than the one overhead. 

Your hands fumble as they move the DOW out of the trunk– an action you’ve done time and time again feeling entirely foreign. Your body clumsy as it carries it to the front, your mouth spewing annoyed half thoughts all the way. 

“What?” Yoongi’s window is rolled down, his head leaning out of the front as he asks. 

Your eyes circle your skull again, “Fucking joke!” You call, trying to set up the radar. Your body only half in the moment. Half in the clouds. 

“This whole thing is one big joke!” You shout, foot kicking the dirt beneath your feet. The storm beginning to dissipate, a swell of rain forming behind your eyelids instead. 

“(Y/n) are you serious?!” You hate that his own frustration feels like a punch to the gut. 

“I have been this whole time!” You shout, brain finally working to kick the last pieces of the radar in place. In good time too, the wind is picking up again. The tornado will be coming soon. 

“Are you?! Are we seriously not going to talk about this?!” Your voice doesn’t feel like your own. It feels foreign, like something deeper inside is speaking for you– like it’s taking control. “Am I seriously just a cheap fuck to you?! Was I really a mistake, Yoongi?! Please, please just tell me.” 

“(Y/n), don’t do this to me…” Don’t do this to him? Don’t do this to him?! Does he realise what he’s doing to you? Does he even fucking care? You told him you want him! That nothing could keep you from him– and he doesn’t even have the decency to reject you properly. 

Maybe you're the bad guy– the villain for forcing this. For the path of destruction it might cause. But you truly can’t stand this. And maybe, just for once, the consequences mean as little to you as getting swallowed by the storms you’ve always cared for.

Yoongi is your impossible, remember? “But it’s always been about you! Don’t you get that, Yoongi?! It’s always! Always been about you from the second I met you!” You yell, not holding back your shouts. Letting them echo with the thunder coursing through the skies, coursing through your veins. “I’m not asking you to love me! I’m not asking for any of that shit! I just want a rejection!” 

What? What the hell are you saying? Why are you asking him to do that? Why are you asking him to do the one thing he can’t do?

He loves you. He loves you so much it keeps him up at night. That it infests his days like a parasite. You’re not asking him to love you? Are you crazy? Do you not see how he looks at you? Do you not see that you’re the person that’s hung all the stars in the night sky?

He can’t reject you. He can’t. His brain won’t let him form the words– his lips never to curl in the right shape to let them out. He can’t reject you because he doesn’t want to– because it would practically kill him to. 

He loves you. You’re his mate.

Why couldn’t you just make this easy? Why couldn’t you reject him? Why did you have to look so broken this morning? Why did you like him back? What does it mean? What is he supposed to do? How is he supposed to keep fighting when he knows he could have you for himself, for real? 

How is he supposed to protect you from him when it feels like he’s ripping a part of himself out when he tries to? He doesn’t want to hurt you. He never wanted to hurt you. He just wants to keep you safe. Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you understand that? Why can’t he just have you?

‘No one can keep me from you. You’re for me.’

Your words from last night ring in his ears. Existing as the only thing he can hear, the only thing that matters. Maybe it is. Maybe he’s wrong, maybe– 

A sharp beeping suddenly penetrates his ears, a sound resonating from your laptop. A map laid out of the tornado's path.

It's formed– its body barrelling straight for you. 

Yoongi looks scared, nervous. His tail uncurling from behind him. Reaching out the window, reaching out to you. “(Y/n)! Get in the car!” 

“Shut up!” You’re not listening to him, not listening to a word he says, “I’m not even worth a rejection?! Our friendship means nothing, huh?”

“That’s not what I’m saying!” His breathing is accelerating, his heart rate going crazy. He needs to get to you. He needs to protect you. To get in the car and drive as fast and as far as he can so nothing bad happens. “Get in the car!”

“Why does it even matter if I do or not?!” You yell over the sounds of rushed winds, ignoring debris that begin to fly past. Ignoring everything but the man in front of you, just like you’ve done time and time again. “If I get in, you’re just going to pretend nothing happened! You’re going to– you’re going to–” 

Tears begin to clog your vision, your words welling up in your throat. Scratching the inside, making you feel like you can’t breathe. Can’t think. Where you want to be strong, you are weak. And where you want to be weak, you feel strong. It’s a strange sort of feeling. 

“I can’t just fucking pretend like nothing happened last night, Yoongi!” A sense of peace washes over you, a complete contrast to the storm surrounding, enveloping the world. Acting as a monster, not caring about your feelings, swallowing everything whole. You finally feel at peace, oddly enough.

“I can’t– I can’t just act like everything’s fine! I’ve always been so fucking shit at that, you know that!” You throw your arms up in defeat, standing right in the path of the storm. Almost ready to watch the tornado come into view, to become the storm yourself. “But it feels like– it feels like you’re killing a part of me! Like you’re, you’re pulling out a piece of my very being and I don’t know why! It doesn’t feel real! And I don’t know if I can live without it!” 

What? It feels like– it feels like that for you? 

Yoongi steps out of the car, his tail curling almost too pleased at his human side’s actions. If it was anyone else, they would think you’re crazy. They would think you’re just being manipulative without a care in the world– but to Yoongi, to hybrids, he knows exactly what you're talking about. He knows the exact same thing. Has felt it every day of his life since he decided he couldn’t have you. 

The mate bond. The soulmate tie that will always lead two halves of a conjoined soul together over and over again. 

You feel it. Humans aren’t meant to feel it but you do. You feel the same pull, the same bone crushing heartbreak upon rejection from your mate. The same– the same everything Yoongi feels. 

He’s the one that's been hurting you like this, the one hurting himself by acting the same. In his bid for protection, he did the opposite. What kind of fucking mate is he? Why didn’t he just listen to the bond? Why didn’t he just let himself follow his heart?

Everything he’s dealt with in his past no longer carries any point. The comments under his stupid post to that stupid forum mean nothing. The words of his “family” are jack shit. The societal implications of him being less than human mean even less– you never saw him as less. His mate cares. His mate sees him.

This is what having a mate feels like? Yoongi thought he would never know. Never understand. But the warmth that feels him now, the subtle yearning he’s suppressed rises to the surface. His feet carrying him automatically, urging him to find you. To take care of you. To keep his mate safe. 

“We have to go!” He rushes, his legs moving quickly to try and meet your form. To try and find you. 

“No! No!” You shout, your foot stomping into the Earth. In any other scenario, he’d be shaking his head. Laugh at your antics. But right now, all he cares about is getting you to safety, and working on both of your communication skills. “I need you to tell me I’m a mistake! I need you to say I meant nothing!”

There you stand, arms open. Wind rushing past you, eyes closed yet looking straight ahead. You could never mean nothing, you mean everything. It’s his own stupid fault he ever let you think otherwise. 

“I just said what I needed to say!” He shouts, his body finally meeting yours in the open field. His hands land on your shoulders, trying to ground you. Hair  blowing around him, sticks flying past but never hitting the two of you. Almost like this needed to happen, like fate was set in stone for this very moment. 

Your eyes slowly open, and Yoongi thinks the world freezes around him. Misty watersheds sit in your tearline, your eyebrows forming together in confusion with his words. Your lungs raising and falling quickly, chest panting with effort held back. Emotions yet to be unraveled. 

If you feel the bond now, how long have you felt it? How confused you must’ve been. Yoongi feels awful. 

“Wh-what?” Your voice cracks, cheeks warm and irises searching for an answer. What is he doing? Why is he saying this now? Why does some part of you feel whole again? 

He doesn’t answer, doesn’t quite know how to articulate his words. But his body does. His body does what it’s been begging to do since he met you in that library. That he’s been holding back from every day of his stupid, (Y/n)-lacking life. 

He leans in, his lips pressing against yours roughly. Trying to tell you all the words he never said, trying to put everything, all of him into one measly kiss. One that means something. One that tells the story of the two of you. 

You, you can’t do anything but listen. Your eyes closing, your body returned whole. The piece of you pulling away settling back into your heart like stone. Warmth flooding your veins, home filling your very being. Making you feel safe, making you feel cared for. 

And when he finally pulls away, you hear the words you’ve always longed to know, “I love you and I’m sorry.” 

Yoongi feels free upon their utterance. A ball chain holding him back breaking– reality setting the world into motion once again. The earth that needs to keep spinning, that needs to keep the two of you afloat. 

You should feel mad, but you can’t feel anything but peace. But feel like your soulmate has returned home from a voyage you would never understand.

Before anything else can be said, Yoongi snaps his head to the left. His eyes going wide as the winds begins to form in front of him. Looking as if they’re not moving. As if nothing is moving. “Fuck, fuck.” 

He grabs your hand, pulling you back to the car as it starts to take focus in front of your mind, too. Fuzzy feeling fading, eyes going wide as you scramble from his door into your seat. He follows in quickly after you, not even thinking to buckle before taking off. Driving as if his life depends on it– your life depends on it, too. 

Sticks flying past the windshield, hitting against the body. Thunderous roars of the world being consumed outside. A tail pressing against your frame, holding you steady. Keeping you in place.

It’s only when you come to safety that all the words needing to be said finally spill out from both of your mouths. When everything is set ‘right’ again instead of feeling oh-so-wrong. It’s only then that he explains everything. That he explains his logic, that he explains how hybrids have soulmates. Don’t forget the scolding he gave– the promises made to each other that the other would never do something so stupid again.

He knows you meant them.

He’ll never forget the way you smiled at him then. When the heaviness left the air and the freedom surrounding the car became almost overbearing. He wishes he could tattoo the places you playfully slapped into his arm. Where you scolded him for keeping this from you. When you told him you would never have a second thought about rejecting him.

When you told him you could never think of a life where he isn’t your mate. 

“...Or boyfriend. Or partner. Whatever you wanna call it.”

You’ll never forget his gummy smile in that moment, when he has a possessive hand on your thigh. 

“I don’t care. I just want to be yours.” 

Wind wraps at your hair, blowing it– making it form into some beastly, monstrous thing around your head. Tangling your face, your eyes falling askew as it finds itself a messing around your very being. The howls of gusts form in his ears, sounding of ghosts that would haunt any normal person. 

But you, no. Not you. You live for this. Live for the rain that beats into your skin. Live for the cracks of thunder roaring above your head. Find serenity in the dark clouds that hang overhead, the adrenaline pumping through your veins. In the knowledge that it's coming. That it’s coming soon. 

And Yoongi? He can’t help but think you look like an angel enthralled in the storm. One that came to earth. One that was meant to find him. One that was created just for him. 

He can’t help but bask in you– bask in his mate as you live in your freedom, your happiness. Gets to be one of the lucky few finding sanctuary in your world. In your bubble made just for you. 

He smiles to himself as he watches. Shakes his head like a stupid boy in stupid love that couldn’t be happier. He’s so happy. 

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, opening a familiar app that he once looked to for advice all those years ago. Going to the same post he read the replies to over and over again– convincing himself that his impossible couldn’t be reality. He shakes his head as he reads them now, almost feeling foolish for believing him in the first place. Why should he have asked on a human forum anyway? It’s like he was asking to be let down. 

As he scrolls, his thumb comes to a stop above a comment he’s never seen before— a recent one. Posted just a few months ago. 

RMB_Joon

> Hey! This post is being talked about a lot on another forum specifically for hybrids! :-) I left the link for you as I think it would be a lot more helpful getting perspectives over there! :-) PM me if you ever want to talk.

Yoongi feels a curl of interest grow in his gut. Other hybrids? Interest in his post? He almost wants to know more. Almost wants to follow the inkling leading him to delve deeper into the world of others. 

“Yoongi!!” You shout, waving his attention over to where you stand. And suddenly, he doesn’t care about anything else anymore. How could he when he has the whole world in front of him? 

He chuckles to himself, marking his post as ‘resolved’ before tucking the device into his pocket. His legs catching into a jog, joining you at your side. Exactly where he should be. Where he’s meant to be.

⋆𐙚 WAHH THERE IT IS!!! I hope you all enjoyed <\\33 pls let me know any of your thoughts!! this is officially the longest fic I’ve ever written, and I put a lot of myself into this piece so I hope u all love it and it isn’t too skdhsksks yk?? MWAH ily © all rights reserved to ctrlhope 2019-2024 ; do not copy, plagiarise, or translate. 

[chiscaralight]

Can we have a bunny!hybrid reader with ratio smut please pretty please with a cherry on top 🙏

Where it’s the first time he’s been with a hybrid and he wants to explore your body and which parts are sensitive for “research” ;) I have an unhealthy obsession with your fics and ratio

LIVE LOVE LAUGH chiscaralight

i too, am obsessed w mr ratio…

dr ratio x reader nsfw . bondage. might not be exactly what u asked but!

“veritas, is this really necessary?”

“you were moving around too much, it’s getting in the way of my tests.”

and you writhe against the intricately wound ropes, whimpering as they feel like they’re tightening against you. he’s been prodding and poking at your body, under the guise of studying your body. you've told him time and time again, it's the same as anyone else's, just adorned with ears and a cute cotton tail, but it's not enough for him.

it's a simple set of experiments this time, he's just looking for certain areas, erogenous zones across your body. well, it’s simple for him, much less for you. you’ve endured countless minutes of him brushing his fingers and occasionally even his tongue against different parts of you, getting nothing more of it than a hum and him shifting to his scattered pieces of paper to write something down before shifting back his attention to you.

this whole thing is a pain. coupled with your inherited sex drive of a rabbit plus the way he’s feeling you up, it was almost set in stone that that wet spot on your panties would grow, dampening your entrance as you continue to attempt to brush your thighs together for some, any type of relief.

of course ratio notices, there’s no need for him to go on, but he does anyways. as well as testing your body, he’s testing your resolve. how much you think you can hold back, counting the seconds until you crack and your weak voice mumbles out his name.

which honestly isn’t very long, because you’re practically moaning out his name once his rough fingers come in contact with the base of your cute ears. he thinks it’s interesting, more interesting than it should be, because his cock is jumping in his pants at the lewd noises you’re letting out. he’s softly scratching at your fuzzy ears, and each scrape of his short nails has you wriggling against the restraints, whining about how good it feels. he’s not even touching anything else and you’re already so worked up, what if he tries a different approach to this ‘test’?

your lips are wrapped firmly around his cock, bobbing your head so easily as you moan hard around him. his short nails are still brushing at your ears, and you can only shift in your spot, your body still held back by the ropes he insisted on keeping you in. ratio's eyes are trained on your every reaction, trying to keep a clear mind. but you're just doing so well, he's almost forgetting you're supposed to be running a test! you don't seem to find though, because your tongue is dancing expertly on the underside of his cock, rolling with ease around his length as you keep up a sickly sweet pace. but it's much too early to cum, and he has one more experiment he wants to try.

face pressed hard into the sheets, ratio wastes no time in fucking into you hard, his large hands are keeping your hips in place, snapping up and into yours at such an alarming rate you can barely keep up. it's like nothing you've ever felt before, your mind is numb from the pleasure and you're moaning into the sheets. but it's when his hand finds your cute little cotton tail, softly tugging on it that your head flies up.

now, you're a mess, back arching hard as you try to reach back and grab his arm, but to no avail. his grip on the soft fur is just tight enough that it's way too much for you, and you're sobbing at the sheer amount of pleasure coursing through your veins. your eyes are crossing hard, and you're feeling lightheaded with the way you're orgasm is rushing into you like a waterfall. you can't even warn him first! but the way you start to shake under him and your essence that's shooting against his pelvis is just as good a warning as any other. you're not even sure when he cums, but he keeps going, helping you to ride out those last few waves of pleasure as your body starts to come down. you're weak and fucked out, fully ready to give yourself away to the spirit of sleep after such an intense orgasm. but the test results are in, and ratio can finally free you now. he's found his favorite one.

[httpiastri]

take me back to monaco – pa17

the one where you celebrate your boyfriend taking the lead of the championship.

genre: smut

pairing: paul aron x reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it!!!), oral (reader giving), all other typical smut stuff

author's note: a piece for all of us who wish we were still in monaco <33 so so delayed, im sorry, but i really enjoyed writing this and i hope you enjoy reading it too!! 💗 (and i knowww they dont have drivers rooms in f2 but... just let me have this okay...)

18+ content below, minors dni!

paul is practically glowing when he makes it down from the podium and into the hitech garage where you're standing. he gives ralf and karl another hug each, before his eyes land on you – and then, he's standing in front of you and pulling you into his embrace in no time.

he lifts you into the air and twirls you around, sweaty forehead pressed into the side of your neck, but you don't mind even the slightest. "championship leader, huh?" you ask when he sets you down on the ground, smiling into the kiss he presses to your lips.

"finally," he answers, cocky as ever, pulling you in for another hug.

his bottle of podium champagne is almost empty when he hands it to you and you can't help but laugh at the guilty smile forming on his lips. his eyes follow the way you lift the bottle to your mouth, adoring the grimace you pull at the bitter taste. he gladly takes the bottle from you when you offer it back, emptying its last contents in his own mouth before placing it on some counter next to you.

"come on," he says, hand wrapping around your wrist and pulling you away with him as he starts moving through the garage. you don't even have time to ask what's going on – not that you want to, anyway. a championship leader should never be questioned.

the kisses he presses on your lips are hungry from the second he closes the door to his driver's room behind you. his hands waste no time finding your hips, pulling your crotch flush against his. you can't help but gasp into his mouth at the feeling of his hard-on poking into your thigh. "already?" you ask, eyebrows raised when you pull away from him.

he leans forward to seal your lips again, not wanting to be away from you for even a second. "been thinking about you all race," he lets out, trailing a series of hot, wet kisses down your throat. his teeth slightly graze your sensitive skin and you tilt your head to the side, allowing him better access.

"and yet, you did so well," you tell him around a hum. "how do you want to celebrate this?"

"i think you know." his voice sends vibrations along your skin. he pulls away, his darkened eyes staring down at you as he places a hand right under your jaw, thumb stroking up and down your throat. "get down on your knees for me, love."

he can tell from your kisses that you're just as needy as him; the way your lips part for his tongue instantly is a dead giveaway, along with the string of whines that slip into his mouth when his thumb presses down harder on your throat. your hands on his shoulders guide him to walk until his back meets a wall, forcing him up against it. without breaking the kiss, you hastily pull down the zipper of his suit, helping him pull his arms free before letting the suit hang by his shoulders.

as much as you love how good he looks in his white fireproof shirt, it covers way too much of his skin, so it needs to come off, too.

you need his help to pull it off his body, the sweaty and champagne-soaked material sticking to his skin like glue. it's a big hassle, but it's all worth it when you hear his sweet laughter as he, too, struggles with his stripping. once your eyes meet the sight of his muscular upper body, you can't hold back from leaning in to press your lips along it. the urgency of it all has his stomach twisting in anticipation, your touch leaving his head spinning.

his skin is sticky in the best kind of way, the sweat-salty and champagne-bitter taste filling your senses instantly. your fingers grasp at his sides as you move further down, your tongue swiping along the creases of his abs, but his hand reaches for your cheek just as you begin kneeling down. "hey, wait a second."

when you blink up at him, his expression is much softer than you'd expected; his gaze is full of adoration, warmth, love. "what's wrong?"

he pauses for a second before shaking his head. "nothing," he says. "i just... wanted to see your pretty face."

"you..." a tiny blush creeps onto your face, though you're sure you can blame it on the heat of the situation. "you're so silly..."

"silly, maybe. but i'm also the luckiest man in the world."

your heart swells in your chest at his words, the situation suddenly growing much more intimate than you'd expected. you and paul are no newbies to a quickie on a race weekend, but it usually never goes quite like this. these words of affection and these love-filled eye contacts are reserved for late-night lovemaking sessions in his apartment or back at the hotel.

not that you mind, of course.

"just... you looking up at me like this..." you try to turn your head away, cheeks heating up at his words, but paul's hand on your face tilts you back. "knowing that you're all mine..."

"all yours."

you seal your words with a few kisses along the hemline of his boxers, before tugging it down just a little bit. then, one of your hands reaches into them, pulling out his dick and letting it spring up against his stomach.

you take him in your hands, moving them up and down along him a few times, and paul groans immediately. when you shoot him a glance, he's thrown his head back, lips slightly parted, and the sight is almost too good to tear your gaze away from. you look down at the other pretty thing, leaning in to press two kisses along one side of his length, then two kisses to the other side, before sealing it with a peck to his tip.

five kisses for five podiums.

your thumb begins to rub circles around his tip, smearing out his precum as your mouth begins to work with little licks up the underside of him. as your lips wrap around him and you finally take him in, he lets out your name in the form of a sigh, his heart pounding hastily against his ribs. a hand slips into your hair, fingers getting lost in your locks and nails slightly grazing your scalp as you take as much of him as you can.

"god, you're..." he says, voice thick and rough as if it takes all his effort not to let the moan in his upper chest escape. "so good..."

when he hits the back of your throat, it takes a few moments for him to remember how to breathe, his head empty except for the thought of you. he looks down at you with a reverent, almost worshipping look in his eyes. he just can't stop staring, the sight of your red cheeks and your lips around his dick making him unable to stop his hips from bucking a little. you can tell he's holding back, trying not to give in and push into you, but he lets out a content sigh once you start moving.

his breaths grow quicker and needier when you pick up the pace, a shiver shooting down his spine as he feels your tongue swirling around him. his fingers tangle in your hair, grip harder and helping guide you ever so slightly, and you blink up at him almost instinctively.

you love seeing him like this; almost vulnerable, as he gives himself up to you completely, fully at your mercy. his adam's apple bobs before he lets out a deep, guttural moan. you hum at the sight, which causes him to let out a babbling mess of your name and a bunch of swearwords, the hand in your hair suddenly pulling you back.

a few strings of saliva connect you to his length when he holds you back, the confused look in your eyes, along with your parted lips, making his heart flutter. his hand moves from your scalp down to your cheek, urging you up to stand again. "i want to... come inside you..." he explains, still breathless. "is that okay?"

"anything for you," you assure him, eyes softening as they see the gentle smile on his lips.

paul's hands find your hips and spin you both around, your breath hitching when he pushes you up against the wall. his lips are back on your neck in just a second, his hands trailing down your body and reaching under your skirt. one hand settles on the inside of your thigh, thumb stroking up and down the skin, as the other pulls your panties to the side to allow him to run a finger along your folds. "so wet already?" he asks, faux innocence in his voice. "just from sucking me off?"

your hands land on his shoulders for stability when his fingers fill you up, eyes fluttering closed as he spreads and curls them. it doesn't take long for him to deem you stretched out enough, pulling out and wiping your wetness all over his cock. you drape your arms around his neck, leaning your forehead on his shoulder once he rubs his tip against your core, before slowly slipping into you.

a curse falls from your lips, a painful yet perfect stretch spreading through you. "feels like... your ego isn't the only thing that grew from that podium..." you gasp, feeling him push in a little deeper.

paul lets out a wholehearted chuckle, letting one of his hands reach up to bring your face off his skin and press a quick kiss to your forehead as you adjust to him. "taking that as a compliment," he mumbles, brushing a few strands of hair out of your face with a tender caress. he keeps still for a few moments to let you adjust, before starting his gentle thrusts.

one of his hands holds you up against the wall by your waist beneath your dress, while the other one has a firm grip on your ass. you use your last bits of energy to jump up just a little, hanging both of your legs around his hips. not long later, he picks up the pace, way too needy to go slow right now.

"you feel-" he starts, moving his hand from your waist to where your body meets his, fingers finding your clit with ease. "so- so good..." he alternates circles with little flicks of your bud, and you can't help the sting of whines that fall from your lips. "god, you have to stay quiet, unless... you want my entire team to hear..."

just the thought of any hitech staff – or, much worse, ralf or karl – hearing you makes something boil in the pit of your stomach, your insides involuntarily clenching around paul. you hide your face in his bare chest, letting out a few muffled sounds when he buries himself deeper and deeper into you. it's all getting too much, his pinches and vibrations against your clit in combination with him hitting that sweet spot deep inside you with every pump threatening to push you over the cliff at any second. "fuck- i'm going to-"

he feels your breasts press into his chest as you arch your back into him, your walls tightening around him when your orgasm washes over you. you throw your head back against the wall as you try to catch your breath, your arms around his neck pulling him closer to you. the feeling of your pulsating insides is just way too good, and the moan he lets out when he climaxes is way too loud – but he really doesn't care right now.

he spills his load into you, his hold on your underside trembling when he feels you contract around him one last time. he feels the mixture of his cum and yours dripping out from between you, and he knows already that the cleanup is going to be a mess – but that's just another thing he simply couldn't give a fuck about.

when he finally recovers the energy to open his eyes and look at you, his heart clenches at the sight of your messy hair and dazy expression. "what a day, huh?" he asks with a chuckle, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. "monaco is amazing."

a dismissive sound vibrates from the back of your throat. "it's not monaco. it's all you, baby."

[ldolbybts]

A little help from my friend - Part 2

Part 1

Pairings - Female Reader x Taehyung, Female Reader x Jungkook Warnings - 18+, thigh riding in a room full of people .. (although no one notices), sex Word Count - 3.3K Description - Reader is inexperienced and is too nervous to let Jungkook see that, so she comes up with a (not so) great plan! [P.S I have no idea if I want to write anymore parts to this one, this could be the final part - let me know what you think]

It had only been a day after you and Taehyung had did what you did before he texted you.

It was like he wasn’t even bothered about what you had done and you couldn’t stop thinking about it, it had consumed your every moment for the past 24 hours, you sighed loudly as you glanced at the text.

Tae: Movie night at Namjoons!!! hope ur coming!!

How was he back to being his same old self with you so fast?

After about 5 minutes of staring blankly at your wall your phone buzzed again. As you looked down it was a text from Jungkook this time.

Jungkook: hey, hope ur coming to namjoon’s, i want to see u

You let out a long groan of frustration, you were going to go to this stupid movie night.

*

As you arrived at Namjoon’s doorstep you took a deep breath, this didn’t have to be weird if you didn’t make it, right? Nothing had changed between you and Taehyung, at least that’s what you tried to convince yourself as you knocked on Namjoon’s door.

“______!” Namjoon greeted you warmly, pulling you in for a hug.

“Hey Joon, did I miss the start of the movie?” You asked, knowing your internal debate had caused you to be late.

“No, no of course not, you know how we are, we haven’t even picked the damn movie yet.” He laughed as you followed him down to his basement which had been renovated into a small but decent living space where you all liked to hang out from time to time.

As you followed him down the stairs and into the space you quickly glanced around to see the two small couches already being took up by 5 boys, Namjoon had his own chair that he didn’t let anyone sit on so there you were standing like an idiot with nowhere to sit. You played it off, going to sit on the ground.

“Woah!” Jimin – you knew him, but definitely not as well as Namjoon and Taehyung – started, “I saved you a seat right here ______.” he said tapping his lap. You scoffed and rolled your eyes “In your dreams Park.”

“Oh you are.” He said, smirking at you. You rolled your eyes, not in the mood for his antics.

“Hey, if there’s anyone’s lap you should be sitting on, it’s Jungkook’s am I right?” Namjoon chimed in and you could have died then and there.

You glanced at Jungkook who gave you small smile and you couldn’t help as your eyes glanced to Taehyung for a small second who had his face buried in his phone, typical.

“You mind?” you said looking at Jungkook.

“You want to sit on m-my lap?” He asked stuttering a little, his eyes widening.

“No you idiot, I just meant can I sit on the floor where your sitting and lean my back against the couch.”

“So you want to get in between his legs?” Jimin asked, still smirking.

As you sat on the floor you just rolled your eyes again, boys were tiring.

Taehyung, however, who was usually the noisiest in any room at any given time, was being eerily quiet and acting like his phone screen was the most interesting thing in the world. You let out a small sigh, you really hoped it wasn’t because of what you had asked of him.

As the boys finally agreed on a movie and turned off the lights you asked Namjoon if he had any snacks.

“There might be some in the kitchen, go up and check.” He said casually.

Namjoon had said a long time ago that he wasn’t treating anyone that came to his house like guests otherwise he wouldn’t get a moments peace, so if you wanted something you were getting it yourself.

You got up and started walking up the stairs, making your way to the kitchen. You didn’t even realise Taehyung had been behind you until you turned only to be a few centimetres away from his face.

“Jesus Taehyung you scared me half to death.” You said after nearly jumping out of your own skin.

“Sorry,” he said giving you a small smile, “just decided I wanted something sweet to eat.” And you could have sworn he said it in such a way, you were the something sweet he was referring to.

“Oh.” Was all you said, before turning your back to him, opening a cupboard. You spotted some cookies on the top shelf and decided to reach for them, as suspected you were too short and after a small struggle you felt Taehyung press behind you, his crotch pushing into your ass for a short second before he grabbed the cookies and moved away from you again.

“Can you stop that.” You said, your cheeks heating.

“Stop what?” Taehyung asked, feigning innocence.

“You know exactly what you’re doing Tae!” You said, feeling frustrated.

Taehyung walked forward, pining you against the counter.

“This is so stupid, but I cannot stop thinking about you. What have you done to me? Do you have a magic pussy?” He asked, breathing heavy.

You could’ve laughed if he hadn’t been standing so close to you, moving in slowly, putting his lips to your neck in short sweet kisses.

“Tae, give it a rest…we can’t do this…Jungkook…”

“I don’t mind sharing.” Taehyung said, still working on your neck.

“I know your freaky ass doesn’t, but I doubt Jungkook would be happy about this.”

You could barely concentrate on what you were saying as Taehyung kissed and licked at your neck, pressing his clothed crotch against yours.

“Hmm you are so pure, I can’t stop thinking about how I wrecked you, are you sore?” He asked.

You were a little, Taehyung had definitely made you sure you felt what had happened. You gave him a small nod.

“That pretty pussy of yours took me so well, you did amazing for your first time.” Fuck, that sent a fresh pulse of arousal straight to your core.

You couldn’t believe how bold Taehyung was being with his words but truth be told, you loved it.

You wanted so bad to let him have this, to have him take you out to his car and fuck you until you couldn’t remember your own name.

Like he was reading your mind, he spoke, “How do you feel about car sex?”

You let out a small whine as he looked at you like he was about to devour you whole.

“Such a pretty sound.” He said. He got closer to you, his hands beginning to roam around you body kissing your neck slowly he began running his hand over you tits, it was a mistake to go braless under your jumper. You moaned as his fingers skimmed over your nipple.

“Fuck…Tae…I can’t. It was a one time thing. I did this so I could finally get the courage to fuck Jungkook, remember?”

Taehyung pouted a little.

“I know.” He said sighing a little. “But it was so fucking hot. I didn’t know it was going to be like that.”

You groaned a little.

“Taehyung…we have to go back downstairs people will begin to wonder where we are.”

“Okay, okay,” He said, finally moving away from you, but you couldn’t lie, you already missed the feeling of him against you.

You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself.

As you both walked downstairs you tried to act casual, even pretending to look at your phone as you walked towards were you were sitting.

“What’d you get?” Namjoon asked and you waved the cookies in the air before throwing them to him, you didn’t feel hungry for food anymore.

“Sweet!” He said ripping open the packet like some primal animal.

“_______!” You heard Taehyung say. “Come sit beside me, I’ll make room.” Taehyung had situated himself in a small one seater.

You were going to kill him. If you protested too hard people would wonder why - you and Taehyung had always been comfortable with each other.

You looked behind at Jungkook and he simply shrugged, not seeming too bothered, it wasn’t like you and him were anything serious, you’d hung out three times.

You let out a heavy sigh as Namjoon switched the lights off again, trying to find your way over to Taehyung in the darkness, you reached out your hands. Taehyung responded by grabbing them and pulling you down to him. You fell into him awkwardly, grunting in annoyance.

“I don’t know what you’re hoping to gain from this.” You hissed at him, keeping your voice low. Luckily it was dark, and the movie was loud. Although he'd basically pulled you straight onto his lap.

Taehyung let you adjust yourself and once you had perched yourself at the edge of his knee, you sighed heavily, this was exhausting.

Before you could even realise what was happening Taehyung began moving his leg causing you to spread your legs to plant your feet on the floor so you wouldn’t fall. Your core landed directly onto Taehyung’s meaty thigh and you nearly groaned out loud, this boy was smart.

Taehyung leaned forward, “I’m so glad you wore that little skirt, do me a favour and move your panties to the side.”

You took a shallow breath, surely he can’t be serious?

“Do it for me baby, just shift them over a little.”

You nervously looked around, no one was looking at you.

As if a woman possessed you quickly lifted a little and did what Taehyung had asked, moving the lace to the side so that your core laid bare on Taehyung’s jeans. You quickly retrieved your hand from such an inappropriate place, what the fuck was wrong with you?

Taehyung just watched you, feeling so turned on he nearly came in his boxers.

“Good girl, now use me.” Was all he said.

You hesitated, far too nervous to even do anything let alone grind yourself on his thigh.

Taehyung shifted his thigh and little and felt the full sensation of his thigh against your bare core.

And fuck did it feel good, you moved your hips a little, keeping a slow and steady pace, you could not risk getting caught.

Just a few days before you had never done anything sexual in your life, how did you end up here?

“Come on baby girl, ride me proper.”

Jesus Christ, it took everything in your being not to moan.

You picked up the pace a little, you were practically dripping onto Tae’s thigh.

You needed more, you needed him inside you, this wasn’t enough.

“What’s wrong? Why are you slowing down?” He whispered in your ear.

You were so turned on you didn’t even care how crude you were being when you whispered back.

“I want your dick Tae.” You practically whined.

Taehyung couldn’t get both of you up fast enough and then all eyes were on you both.

You tried your hardest to look normal, but you weren’t sure if it worked.

“Guy’s I’m just going to drive ____ home then come back, she said she thinks she’s getting a migraine.”

A valid excuse, considering you did get them frequently. Taehyung was a good liar.

“I can drive you home _____.” Jungkook piped up and you immediately felt guilt. What the fuck had you been thinking sneaking away with Taehyung. You felt so stupid being blinded by lust, you were better than that.

“Yeah that would be great Jungkook. Thanks.” You said.

“But-” Taehyung began to protest and you shoved an elbow into his ribs.

Jungkook smiled as your agreement, standing up and leading you upstairs.

You phone began to ding and you already knew who it was.

You quickly glanced at your phone, scanning just a few messages.

Tae: U know our fuck was gonna be good!!!

Tae: Cnt believe u left w him THAT horny

Tae: Wait…ur not gonna fuck him… r u?????

You nearly laughed out loud, turning your attention away from your phone and focusing on the back of Jungkook’s head. As you followed him out to his car you grew a little frustrated you had basically blue-balled yourself, you had been so close to coming just a few mere minutes ago.

“You okay?” Jungkook asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You lied.

Horny was an understatement.

As you got into Jungkook’s car you found yourself unable to keep your eyes off him, watching the veins in his arms as he changed gears, watching the concentration on his face and he kept his eyes forward. He was stunning and you no longer had the fear that was holding you back the last time.

As he pulled up at your apartment you felt insatiable.

“Do you wanna come in?” You asked him causally.

“I thought you had a headache?” He said, his eyebrows furrowing, you noted how cute he looked doing that.

“Yeah, I kind of do, but I still wouldn’t mind some company.” You pouted. “We could watch a movie or something, maybe finish the one that was on in Joon’s.”

Jungkook nodded slowly unsure what you were really getting at.

“Yeah sounds good.” He said.

As you led him into your apartment you shut the door and watched him as he settled himself on the couch. He had on jeans this time around, tight around his thighs you noticed how much they accentuated the shape. Fuck was the only thought you could muster. You could still feel the wetness that had gathered at your entrance and you wanted nothing more than to finish what you started, even though it had been Taehyung who had started it.

“So what do you wanna watch?” He asked, he was shifting about a little, he looked almost uncomfortable and you wondered why.

“I don’t know, were you enjoying the movie at Joon’s? I’m sorry I dragged you away.” You said as you sat next to him, not too close but close enough so you were nearly touching his side. 

You were being tactile, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“It’s fine, I wasn’t paying any attention to it, for the most part, I was thinking about how jealous I was of Taehyung the whole time.” He said, still looking forward.

Your eyes widened in surprise, you knew he hadn’t seen what you had been doing, but if the mere thought of you with Taehyung had made him jealous…

God you were so turned on it was bordering sinful.

“You know…” You began. “If you wanted me to sit on your lap all you had to do was ask Jungkook.” You said, smiling - what you hoped looked - seductively at him.

It was Jungkook’s turn to look surprised.

You took your chance to straddle him again. You were ready this time and the excitement boiled in your stomach making your core throb. 

Jungkook kept his hands at his side for a moment, a little bit stunned at your actions.

But when you bent your head to kiss him he slowly raised them to your hips once again putting you in the same position you had been in a few nights ago. 

“I’m sorry about the other night.” You said breathily between kisses.

“I didn’t mean to leave things like that, truth be told I just got scared.” You admitted, breaking away a little to see his reaction. 

Jungkook just smiled at you sweetly.

“I’m relieved to hear that, if I’m being honest I thought you’d lost interest after kissing me, I thought you didn’t find me attractive or something…” He trailed off.

God was he serious? You had made someone as beautiful as him feel inferior?

“No, god no, are you kidding me? Have you seen you?” You rambled.

But Jungkook merely chuckled, more than eager to kiss you again, he closed the space between you once more.

Jungkook kissed you so intensely it made your damn head spin.

You didn’t know what was turning you on more, the feeling of his tongue in your mouth or the fact that his hands how now made their way round to your ass.

As you both found a comfortable rhythm you found yourself getting so worked up you started to grind down on Jungkook. You could feel him, this was turning him on as much as you.

A small moan left your lips as you finally got some relief and Jungkook copied your sound clearly loving the sensation as well.

“God you know how long I’ve been waiting for this?” Jungkook moaned in between kissed.

“Definitely not as long as I have.” You replied, struggling to get your breath back.

You whimpered a little, grinding down onto him more, you could not get enough of him.

You slowly pulled away, to pull off your sweater, you were suddenly very bare and a little embarrassed but Jungkook’s face could tell you it was more than enough.

“Do you know how sexy you are?” He asked his breathing was heavier now, he looked flushed and a light sheen of sweat was beginning to appear above his brows.

“Hmm, I could say the same about you.” You said as you removed yourself from his lap, standing up you began shedding more clothes and started moving towards your bedroom, Jungkook couldn’t get up fast enough, following you whilst shedding his clothes, when you opened your bedroom door you felt him grab at your waist walking with you over to the bed you both lay down Jungkook on top, only in his underwear now and you boldly decided to reach down and palm at his length.

Jungkook let out a moan of relief finally getting some real friction.

You rolled him over and took your place straddling his hips, looking at him you reached down and pulled down his boxers finally freeing him.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” He asked, his chest was heaving as he stared at the image of your hand holding his hard dick.

“Yes.” Was all you said as you glided your hand slowly back and forth over him.

You reached over to your bedside, opening the drawer you pulled a condom out of the box you had initially bought for your first time.

Jungkook watched as you rolled it onto him, you were experiencing a lot of firsts these days. You wanted more.

"I want to be on top." You said.

"Of course babe, anything you want." He said as the both of you got into position.

You slid your underwear to the side and began to slowly lower yourself onto him, gasping at the sensation as you began to have sex for the second time in your life. 

Jungkook let out a low groan as you finally took in his full length.

“Please,” Jungkook whined as he opened his mouth in pleasure.

You slowly began to move, not entirely sure what to do in this new position, rotating your hips for a few seconds to adjust to the pressure, it wasn’t long before Jungkook grabbed your hips and began to thrust into you.

“Fuck, keep doing that.” You said as he began.

You both got lost in each other as your pleasure began to build, it wasn’t long before Jungkook flipped you over and began fucking you into the bed. You bit down on your lip to keep yourself from being as loud as you wanted to be. 

“I wanna hear you, babe, don’t hold out on me.” He said, panting and smiling.

“Please fuck me harder…feel’s so fucking good.” 

Jungkook let out a groan at the sound of your words happily obliging to your request.

He thrusted harder and faster and you could feel your orgasm approaching.

Jungkook reached his hand down and began rubbing at your clit sloppily but it was enough for you to let out a small yelp, your pleasure intensifying.

“Want you to come for me, please, I’m so close,” Jungkook said.

“Me too, ah fuck- I’m so close too.” You replied through moans.

Jungkook was slowing down but the pressure on your clit grew rougher and you bucked your hips up chasing your orgasm that was about to crash down on you at any moment.

“Fuck fuck fuck!” You half yelled as you orgasm washed over you.

You were so lost in the immense pleasure you felt you couldn’t even focus on the feeling of Jungkook finding his own release

As you slowly came back to reality Jungkook spoke first.

“That was honestly amazing, you felt fucking amazing. God you're so fucking hot."

You laughed a little, he was clearly still wrapped up in his own pleasure as he praised you. You sent a silent thank you Taehyung's way. You weren't entirely sure why he'd popped into your head after having sex with someone else, but you quickly shook the thought away, asking Jungkook did he want to shower with you.

He beamed at you, following you into the bathroom like an eager pup.

[fairydvsts-blog]

i loved “i could fuck you better” sm! 🥵 reading the part where she begs rafe to finish in her without protection made me wonder, could u maybe write something for ex!rafe getting reader pregnant? 🤫

𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞

Rafe Cameron x ex!fem!reader

obx masterlist

summary; your relationship with Rafe hangs by a thread, but a mistake will forever bind you together

warnings; SMUT, p in v, unprotected sex, unexpected pregnancy, some angst but fluff in the end

a/n; english isn't my first language, so you might find some mistakes; I'm open to constructive criticism. Sorry for the delay, I'm a slow writer :(. I'm not sure if this is what you had in mind, but I hope you enjoy it and thank you so much for your request!! ❤️

When Sarah had invited you to her birthday party, the last thing you expected was to end up in Rafe's bed... Once again.

You two had broken up a few weeks ago for the hundredth time, and you had been ignoring him since the break up because you knew it was likely you would get back with him if you didn't.

And he didn't deserve it after what he had done.

But that night he was acting very different from how he usually acted: kind, sweet, caring. You hadn't seen him snorting any coke and he had even apologised for being a jerk —which was almost unthinkable coming from him—, causing you to soften in no time.

Before you knew it, you were naked under his dreamy body.

He was pounding into you hard, your bodies were covered in sweat and you couldn't help but moan with every thrust, each one of them hitting your g-spot. His hands were everywhere, touching and caressing every part of your body almost like he was worshipping you.

"I've missed you so much, baby," he whispered while he grabbed your neck to bring your face closer so he could kiss you, taking your breath away.

His tongue slipped between your lips and you moaned, closing your eyes and pulling his hair so hard that he groaned in your mouth. You used your legs to push his hips rougher against yours and you swore you felt the tip of his dick rubbing your cervix.

"Have you missed me?" he asked when you didn't reply, desperate to hear an answer.

He grabbed your left thigh, hard enough to bruise, and he placed your leg over his shoulder, heightening your pleasure. You cried out and hold onto his biceps with so much force that your gel nails dug into his tanned skin. You tried to give him an answer, but that new position was clouding all your senses and you weren't capable of putting words together; you had lost count of how many times you had come thanks to his fingers and his dirty mouth, but you could feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm again.

"Are you gonna answer or should I stop, baby?" he insisted, slowing down his movements.

"No, no, please, I'm so close, Rafe," you begged him as you ground your hips to try and get yourself off.

"Have you missed me or not?" He pushed your body against the mattress so you couldn't move and stopped thrusting.

"Rafe..." you stuttered, looking at him with pleading eyes, but he didn't budge.

"Yes or no? It's an easy question, baby." He placed his thumb right over your clit, rubbing it at a torturing but very pleasing pace.

"Yes, I've missed you so much," you finally recognised, whimpering and biting your lip because of his actions.

He smirked, clearly satisfied with your answer, before he started pounding into you again, faster this time. He kept touching your clit with his fingers, making your eyes roll back, and you tried to match his pace the best you could. Soon, you were standing on the edge of the cliff, ready to jump off it.

"I'm going to cum," you told him, grabbing his hand to encourage him to rub your clitoris faster, and he complied.

"Me too, baby." His breathing was heavy while he started letting out more and more moans as seconds passed.

You stroked his belly, feeling his abs contract under your fingertips, and his thrusts became sloppier. You knew he wasn't going to last much longer, but neither were you, so you tightened your muscles around his cock and he groaned aloud; his raspy voice caressing your ears. With one last touch on your clit you came hard, trembling under him and moaning so loud that you were sure people on the first floor could hear you.

"Oh, fuck yes."

Your climax triggered his; Rafe cried out a bunch of curses while he fucked you through your orgasm and his own. You were so lost in the moment that you didn't even realise he was not wearing a condom. Three weeks later, though, when your didn't get your period, you became aware of your enormous mistake.

You sat on your bed, shaking and holding the pregnancy test in one hand, your phone in the other. It was positive, you were pregnant, but you were so scared of Rafe's reaction to that information that you didn't dare to tell him. You started crying your eyes out, not knowing what to do.

Should you tell Rafe?

Should you tell your parents first?

Should you keep it a secret and have an abortion?

You were too damn young to be a mother and you weren't ready for a responsibility like that, but it didn't seem fair to Rafe that you made that decision without being honest with him about the situation first; he deserved to know, even if you weren't together anymore.

You hadn't talk with him since your last encounter at Sarah's party given that you went back to ignore him as soon as you had left the house the morning after. He, on the other hand, was being more persistent than ever, blowing your phone with calls and messages every day.

That time, it was you who called, and it took him less than thirty seconds to pick up his phone.

"Baby, I'm so glad that you called." He sounded relieved to hear form you.

"We have to talk, Rafe," you simply said, struggling to contain your emotions that were all over the place.

Now at least you knew the reason behind all of your recent mood swings.

"See you in five." He hung up the phone.

As he promised, he was ringing your bell five minutes later. You opened the door, your eyes clearly puffy due to all the crying, and he frowned when he noticed, hugging you almost immediately.

"Are you okay, baby?" he asked, concerned.

He carried you inside, sitting on the couch and motioning you to sit on his lap. You did so, crying inconsolably on his shoulder as he whispered reassuring things to your ear throughout. He didn't pressure you to tell him what was going on; he just waited till you were ready to talk.

"We fucked up, Rafe," you said when you had calmed down, turning to look him in the eyes, "I'm pregnant."

His eyes widened when he heard you, his mouth dropping open because of the news, and it took him a few minutes to overcome the shock.

"Say something, please," you asked, feeling your eyes starting to water again.

Your heart was hammering in your chest; you were terrified. What were you supposed to do if he didn't support you in the most difficult moment of your life? For you, that would mean the end of your relationship forever.

Thankfully, that did not happen.

He just put his arms around you one more time and said, "Baby, whatever decision you make, I'm here for you, okay? I'll always be there for you when you need me, because I love you with all my heart."

For the first time since you had met him, you felt truly safe in his arms and you knew right away: he was the one, your one. It was pointless to try to stay away form him; you were his and he was yours and the universe would always conspire to bring you together, because you were meant to be.

[my-own-walker]

requesting kit with younger reader, where he picks her up from college and takes her for a milkshake but then they have sex in his car and after he has to drop her down the street because her parents don’t approve of him

Oh! You Pretty Things

note: this is cuteeeeee. thanks for the spicy kit request. i was getting bored of writing inside-the-asylum kit hehe

warnings: sm*t, p in v, oral m receiving, teasing, cursing, kinda overstim, not really tho

+++

The second hand moved so slowly on the clock, I thought it might be broken. Class always went slower when I knew I’d be seeing Kit afterward. Thursdays were our day.

My parents didn’t know. They hated the idea of me being distracted from my studies by some silly boy. I was, in fact, sticking my neck out by going to college as a woman, so I had to succeed. But, the new decade called for liberation for us women. I was proving a point by being able to date and do well in school.

I digress. I met Kit after my father's car got a flat. He showed up in his tow truck to save the day.

'Scummy, those mechanics,' my father quipped as we drove away.

I walked to the gas station Kit said he worked at the next day, set on getting him to ask me on a date.

We'd been secretly meeting up for dates ever since. He'd come to pick me up after my last class of the day every Thursday and take me out somewhere. I could, at times, sneak away to see Kit on other days of the week, but Thursdays were a set date. My mother and father had no idea. They thought I would stay late to study.

In my daydreaming daze, I almost didn't notice my classmates getting up to leave. I gathered my things hastily and rushed out of the room and into the bright daylight of the afternoon. The sun's light on the pavement was nearly blinding. I shaded my eyes with my hand as I walked to the curb, looking desperately for Kit's car.

Within seconds, his shiny black car came slowly up to the side of the street.

'Hey, pretty thing! You goin' my way, doll?' he called out of his window, acting as if he were a creepy stranger. I giggled and got into the passenger's side.

'You have no idea how nice it feels to do this,' I sighed, kicking my shoes off as Kit drove off.

'Rough day, beautiful?' He wore his work uniform. Some jeans, a white undershirt, and his button-up with his name on it. His hair was perfectly tousled, and the shirt was unbuttoned so that part of the white undergarment was showing. He looked soft and warm, and his smile lit up his eyes.

'Just a very long one, and I'm starving.'' I said, drawing out the word 'very.' I flipped down the visor and slid open the mirror, smoothing my hair and fixing the line of my lipstick while regarding my reflection. I pulled the tube of peach lipstick out of my bag and touched up my pout, making faces at myself all the while.

'Havin' fun over there?' Kit laughed.

'I'm beginning to think this shade is old hat,' I sighed. 'Maybe I should try red like Marilyn.'

'I don't care what color they are so long as I get to kiss 'em,' he smirked, taking one hand off the steering wheel and placing it on my upper thigh. I didn't even notice how far my dress had ridden up my leg since getting in the car.

I blushed and giggled, tucking the front pieces of my hair behind my ears. I will admit, I was still in the lavender haze with him.

He pulled into the parking lot of the small roadside diner in our town. It was quaint, tucked away in some trees, filled with truckers from out-of-state and old ladies meeting for lunch. It was a stone's throw from Kit's job, and the perfect place to hide away. Somewhere neither of my parents would dare go.

We sat at the tall counter in the center of the place. This was part of our little Thursday routine. I would always come out of class absolutely ravenous. We'd pick far-away or unknown places to eat before truly spending time together.

'You want somethin', my pretty thing?' Kit asked as the waitress stood in front of us.

'Honestly, a milkshake would be a gas,' I smiled up at the waitress. 'Strawberry.'

'That's all you want?' Kit asked as she walked away. 'Are you sure?'

'Yeah, Kit, I'm alright,' I replied, feeling around in my bag for a light for my cigarette. 'Shit, I must have dropped my lighter somewhere. It's not here.'

'Don’t worry doll, I got you,' he drawled, flicking his own open and holding it under the cigarette clenched in my teeth. I took a long drag and exhaled. The waitress returned and placed my drink in front of me, and Kit's meal in front of him.

I looked over at Kit and caught him taking me in. He looked me up and down and chuckled softly.

'My, you are a dream,' he cooed, placing a hand on my chin to bring me in for a kiss. I went in for a peck and was alarmed to find that Kit wanted more.

'Baby, not here,' I said through gritted teeth, pulling away quickly. I looked around to make sure no one saw. 'You're an animal.' I laughed and he returned the smile.

'I just can't control myself around you, pretty.'

'Well then hurry up and finish your food so we can peel out,' I giggled, pushing his shoulder playfully.

+

There was an old abandoned schoolhouse in town 5 minutes away from my house. Kit and I would find ourselves in the back parking lot frequently. Tucked away from the public eye in his car.

As soon as Kit parked the car, he dragged me into the back seat with him. We made out furiously, like two caged animals that were finally set free. It was a small space, but we sure made it work.

I took over, immediately pushing Kit's back up against the door, placing my hands on his chest to hold him down. His white undershirt was soft against my palms. I could feel his heart pounding furiously beneath my fingertips. A pace that signaled to me just how much he wanted this.

We kissed for only a short time before clothes started getting removed. First, I aided him in removing his work shirt. Then, I worked to undo his belt and unbutton his jeans. He slid them off quickly. I took that time to remove my panties, throwing them hastily to the front seat.

His erection was noticeable through his white briefs. My hand immediately reached to touch it, only for it to be held back.

'Not yet, sweetheart,' he smiled. He pushed me back into the door on my side and continued making out with me. His hands groped all over my body, paying particular attention to my breasts. 'Oh this dress just won't do,' he muttered.

My high-necked smock dress was fit for school, yes, but not for this. He reached behind me and unzipped the fabric smoothly. He tugged the material and it slid down to expose my bra. Kit smiled as he looked into my eyes, then turned his attention back to my chest. He peppered kisses all over my sensitive skin, making goosebumps raise all over my body.

First, he slid my left bra strap off my shoulder, creating a bit more slack and revealing more of my skin. He took his time to kiss all of the areas of skin he hadn't before, going agonizingly slow so that I would get hot and bothered. He loved when I was hot and bothered.

Next was the right bra strap. The ceremony continued. His ritualistic dance of adorning love to every inch of my body made every horrible minute spent without him worth it. His mouth inched closer and closer to the very edge of my bra. Eventually, I gave in to the teasing and reached back to unhook the damn thing myself.

Deciding I'd had enough, though, I pushed Kit back again. This time, all the way down so that he was laying across the back seat. My hand reached for his bulge and stroked it. He whimpered in pleasure. I took the waistband of his briefs in my fingers and tugged, making his dick spring loose.

I lined myself up with him and slid his throbbing erection into my slick middle, feeling every inch of it go deeper and deeper into me. I cried out involuntarily and began bouncing on it, feeling our two bodies connect naturally. My walls tightened around it. He moaned softly.

'Oh baby, yeah,' he spat through gritted teeth as I continued to ride him. I stooped down and kissed him passionately, still keeping a rhythm. His shaking hands reached up to grope my breasts again, this time more firmly. He slid his hands down to my waist and held it, almost as if he were trying to feel some sort of control over me.

I continued moving my hips atop his dick. His length went so deep within me, I thought I'd scream. I put both of my palms on either side of his chest to steady myself. His breathing got more ragged, and I could feel his heart racing still.

'Fuck,' Kit grunted, trying not to come so easily. He gathered what strength he had a lifted me off of his erection by my waist. I sat back and slid down to a laying position as he rose to position himself above me, both of us maintaining eye contact as we went. He wanted a turn on top.

I didn't even get a chance to settle before his large cock was inside me again. I yelped and screwed my eyes closed, existing at that moment at his very will. He held my wrists, which were resting just next to my head, down so that I couldn't move. I whined in protest but was silenced by his lips on mine.

Sweat formed on his brow. I could feel myself succumbing to the waves of orgasm. But, neither of us wanted to be the first to give in. I breathed heavily to steel myself, but it was to no avail. I came first, crying out and moaning loudly. He slid out of me and stroked my hair as the fits of pleasure overtook me.

Kit sat back against the door on his side of the car once again, breathing heavily. I regained my composure and sat up, sitting back on my heels. I stooped down and took his pre-cum covered dick in my mouth. I flicked my tongue over the tip and reveled in the whimpers and cries Kit was letting out. He grabbed and pulled my hair gently as I continued to suck him off.

'I-I'm gonna come,' he mustered, trying to warn me in case I wanted to stop. Instead, I let him blow his load directly into my mouth. I ignored the warmth and bitter taste as I swallowed. He moaned and threw his head back, eventually relaxing into his position. I wiped my mouth and sat back as well.

Recovered from his orgasm, Kit leaned forward and laid half-beside and half-on me, resting his head on my chest. I sighed in contentment.

'God, you're good at that,' Kit whispered, laughing softly. I laughed too. He grabbed my hand and brought it up to his lips to kiss it. He kissed the back of each finger as well to emphasize his gratefulness. He nestled closer into me. I nearly fell asleep listening to his breathing even out.

I gasped suddenly when I looked out the window and saw the sun setting. 'Shit, Kit, we have to get me home!'

We both worked quickly to redress. He helped me with the tough job of zipping up the back of my dress. I scrambled out of the back door and into the passenger door, slamming it shut and bringing the visor down to once again look at myself in the mirror. Kit clambered up to the front from the back seat and settled himself in.

He turned the key in the ignition and started the car up. He paused, though, before going. I looked away from fixing my lipstick for a moment to see what was the matter. Kit shifted in his seat and reached for something that was under him. In his hand was my panties.

'I uh, think you're gonna need these,' he chuckled, blushing. I smacked his arm and snatched them from his grip.

'Oh, hush! Stop! It's not funny,' I protested, half-laughing as well. I shoved them into my handbag demonstratively. 'Now hurry up and drive!'

+

The ride home was quick enough. The sun was still setting as Kit got to the end of my street. He had to drop me there to avoid my parents seeing anything.

'Are you sure you're gonna be okay walking over there this late? I don't need anyone snatching my girl,' Kit spoke.

'I'll be fine, Kit. No one really walks my street. Plus, it's not even that dark,' I assured him.

'Well okay, but I'll be parked here watching ya, okay?'

'Just don't be too obvious,' I warned.

He leaned over and grabbed my face, pulling me in for one last, passionate kiss. When I pulled away, my lipstick was all over his face. I just chuckled to myself and opened the door.

'I love you, you pretty thing,' he called after me.

'I love you too, Kit,' I smiled.

+++

Literally cannot lie I got a bit, uh, bothered myself writing this one LOL. Let me know if you liked this one!

[abiiors]

haunt // bed - pt. 1

a/n: a while ago, i wrote do me a favour after which i said, i would write a matty hate sex fic. well this is it (and perhaps a bit more than anyone asked for), read dmaf again if you want to refresh your memory, or don't. there are 3 parts to this + an epilogue. i also know very little about western weddings, so ignore the inconsistencies lol.

a note about the banner: the photo in it is only meant to describe the dress, not the race, body type, hair colour, etc of the reader <3

minors dni! part 2, part 3

wc: 2.7k

see u in an hour xx

charli’s text flashes on your screen, illuminating a small corner of the dimly lit room. it’s not that late in the day, in fact, it’s quite early—only about 10 am. you’re supposed to be hurrying around the room, checking for any last minutes things you might have forgotten. you won’t be back home until tomorrow after all. yet here you are, surrounded by the things that should have been packed in your bag last night. 

the dress, laid out on your bed, feels like a weapon; red silk slippery enough to slide between your fingers effortlessly. “a wily vixen”, that’s what charli had called you when she'd seen you in it for the first. the thought of that day—bridesmaids dress shopping with four other excited girls—brings a small smile to your face. 

everything laid out here is a weapon really; your four-inch, sharp heels, the delicate and dainty diamond jewellery, the makeup you plan on wearing—blood red lipstick, a perfect shade match for the dress. an expensive crystal bottle of the same perfume you have used for the past six years. 

familiarity breeds contempt. familiarity is also an excellent knife to twist in someone’s gut. because everything here, today, is meant to maul and wound him.

see you in an hour babe, love you. you write back and chuck your phone onto the pillow where it bounces a little before nestling between its creases. you stare at it, maybe your body still yearns for a call that will never come? no more can’t wait to see you up there. no more cheeky selfies in a state of half-undress. just a smooth, black screen.

right then…time to get going. 

charli has been flittering around the room for the last twenty minutes. her white dress fits her like a dream, her makeup is a work of art and her excitement about marrying george is so palpable in the room that at least one person squeals or sighs every five minutes. 

most importantly, the smile on her face is a permanent fixture. and every time you look at it, a warmth spreads through your body. she deserves this—the happiness, the celebration. the happily ever after. no matter how your marriage ended, you won’t stop believing in it for her. 

“so!” charli walks over to you and takes your hand, “how do i look?” she twirls and the dress swirls around her, the tiny crystals catching light and making her shimmer like starlight.

you laugh in response, “like george is about to go into cardiac arrest the minute he sees you!”

the pair of you giggles like teenagers. you can so clearly picture it before it has even happened. the joy and love that will shine on george’s face; his excitement, quiet yet infectious and for a brief moment you’re transported back to your own walk down the aisle. 

small, unsure steps, worried about falling flat on your face in those tall heels, but all of that had evaporated the second you had seen his tear-stained face. and the bright smile that had bloomed a split second later. 

but that’s how long the ache lasts; a brief moment. it’s bad enough that you’re going to have to be civil to him, there’s no need to make it worse with unnecessary nostalgia. 

besides, there’s her to think about. 

she in question is a beautiful, leggy blonde who is at least seven years younger than him. not that you’ve seen either of them today…yet. it’s only because you and charli got drunk one night, four weeks before the wedding, and she felt bad about keeping it from you that matty had a plus one. and that’s how you fell into the rabbit hole of scrolling through this girl’s Instagram profile at two in the morning. 

if you thought you knew his type, you would be dead wrong. physically speaking, she is the exact opposite of you—someone who looks like they belong on a giant billboard in times square, perfect and stunning. then there’s the more questionable aspects of her feed. the flat tummy tea adverts and the paid partnerships with various brands that are always under fire for being unethical.

but that’s the ugly green monster rearing its head. it’s not like you aren’t known for indulging in vanity every once in a while. 

she will be here today, no doubt, clinging onto his arm like a decorative little thing—woah, where did that snide thought come from?! you shake your head to yourself, at least a little embarrassed. he’s not even here yet and he’s already screwing with your head; pushing you back into old jealous and insecure habits. someone clears their throat. 

nora, one of charli’s longtime friends, has her champagne glass raised. a toast. she takes a deep, shaky breath and smiles tearily at the room, about to give her sentimental speech when a resounding knock echoes and cuts her off before she has even begun. 

five heads turn to the locked door and you happen to be standing closest to it. 

‘i’ll get it,’ you tell no one in particular, hand already on the doorknob. the possibility of it hits you way too late. 

it hits you right as his clean-shaven face comes into view. 

it has been ten months. ten months since you gave up the last name healy and changed it back to your maiden name on all your official documents. it had felt like a form of catharsis, getting it done with such urgency back then. but you also remember the days when you would be asked to state your full name and stagger a little at how odd it sounded to no longer have healy in it. to not have a ring around your finger to fidget with. no one to hold you at night. 

but back to now. back to here. 

it’s not hard to see that he has changed a lot in the last ten months. he looks serious; not necessarily sombre—it’s his best friend’s wedding, after all—but mature, more grown up. the grey in his hair, in his beautiful curls, is now much more prominent. the crow's feet around his eyes are more or less the same (and it sends a small pang through you; has he not laughed recently?). his mouth holds—held—a faint smile that’s already slipping, already morphing into a thin line. the exact same face that you woke up to for years now turning into a mask of carefully arranged neutrality.

“charli,” he whispers roughly and then clears his throat, “here to check on charli.” and just like that, he steps past you and into the room where he’s engulfed into a hug by the bride (and slapped on the bum by another bridesmaid but you ignore that for now).

pointedly, you also ignore the sting that comes with being sidestepped so easily. 

you stand by the door, back still to the room, for a second longer than necessary. it doesn’t even register that you’re letting the warm spring air in. is this really how little seeing you impacts him? it must have. because if he’s here then she is also here. 

“tell him i’m fine!” charli’s voice brings you out of your thoughts, making you shut the door softly. “and tell him not to meddle, i’ve got my girls.” she looks at you over his shoulder and throws a wink. your gut tells you it’s nothing but a charity gesture, just trying to gauge the tension between you two. guilt gnaws at you—she shouldn’t have to play peacemaker, she shouldn’t have to worry about two adults behaving themselves. 

“only doing my duty here,” matty raises his hands defensively, “keeping the groom happy.” 

the rest of them tease and taunt him playfully while you take the time to admire—no, simply look at—his suit. it’s nowhere near as nice as the one he wore at your wedding, of course not. but it’s beautifully made, tailored to fit and accentuate his muscles. and there are a lot of those now, that much is evident from the way his sleeves stretch over his biceps. he fills it out nicely, not that he didn’t before, but something about the fabric straining across his arms does funny things to your stomach. funny, you thought that feeling was a thing of the past. then there’s the navy trousers that compliment his backside rather nicely. 

there’s a part of you that is appalled at all these observations you have been making but there’s another part—bored and much more matter-of-fact—that reminds you that there’s nothing under those clothes that you haven’t seen, touched, licked or sucked before. there’s nothing new. he is still the same as he was before, just now with a few extra muscles. 

“go away,” charli’s nudges him gently toward the door. “we’ll be out in fifteen.”

he hugs her just before he leaves, dropping a friendly kiss on her head. after everything you’re glad no one had to pick sides in the divorce. you’ve at least managed to hold the friend group together, even though the same can’t be said about your marriage. 

matty leaves just like he came in, sidestepping you and making sure he’s looking straight ahead. there’s a brief second however—a fraction of one really—when he slows down and breathes in. his adam’s apple bobs roughly and his face struggles to hold the blank expression. 

but it must have just been you projecting right? no one can go through that much in half a second. 

“there you are, darling,” denise walks in on you mid-smoke. “i was looking for you.”

she’s in a beautiful pink dress that brushes her knees and makes her look ten years younger than she is. you blush slightly at having been caught smoking; it’s a recent habit, not one she would be aware of, and you don’t want her to judge you for it. 

“denise,” you try to hide the half-smoked cigarette, “you look beautiful.”

she pointedly looks at your hand and laughs. “my son does enough of that.” then she straightens up, as if bringing matty so casually into this conversation was a mistake. you suppose it was—it does make your heart skip a beat. 

“i just wanted to say hi, darling,” she adds hastily, “and look at you…” her eyes scan you from head to toe, linger on your face for just a second before she smiles again. “simply stunning.”

“thank you.” your voice comes out in a whisper, fighting to get past the lump in your throat. you didn’t think there would ever come a day when she would have to so formally stop by to ‘say hi’. yet here you are, almost a pair of estranged mother and daughter. 

“i don’t…” she starts but shakes her head minutely, “i don’t want to condescend you. but are you okay? with matty bringing that girl, i mean.”

that piques your interest. “that girl?” you stifle a little giggle. “sounds like you don’t like her…”

denise shrugs, leaning against the wall and looking at the bushes in front of her. “she’s okay, i guess.” then she takes a bit to smooth out her dress. “but she’s not you.”

“dearly beloved…” the officiant, charli’s godfather, begins, which you tune out instantly. weddings are lovely and romantic, wedding speeches are dull and boring. besides, like it or not, something else has captured your attention. 

you stand behind the bride, holding the ring she’s supposed to put on george later. and right in front of you stands matty, holding the matching platinum band in his hands. adam and ross stand behind him, smiling and occasionally laughing along with the rest of the guests. you tried it at first too, to only keep your attention on george—who looks very handsome and beams wide the whole time—but it’s impossible when you feel your ex’s piercing stare right on you. 

you would have thought he would stick to the little ignoring act from before. instead, his eyes have lingered on you from the second you walked down the aisle as a part of the processional. tracking your every move, every small step. frankly, it’s insulting. does he think you would ruin the wedding as some sort of diabolical revenge against him? you scoff internally; of course, he would think such self-centred thoughts, it’s just all about him, after all.

you raise an eyebrow at him. what’s your fucking problem?

he smiles back; an arrogant curl of his mouth that turns his face from sweet to insufferable within a matter of seconds. you, his eyes seem to say, you’re my problem. 

well too fucking bad then…

you huff and look away to the side at the guests. it’s only about fifty people from both sides. just family and friends—a lovely kind of intimacy the couple had asked for. you smile at george’s parents who sit in the first row. his mum dabs at her eyes, clearly overwhelmed with emotion. and behind them sit denise and tim. right next to her. 

she’s exactly what she looks like on her instagram page. dainty and beautiful, picture-perfect elegant. her whole face looks like it could be hand-crafted by the gods (or very expensive surgeons according to the snide little voice in your brain) but her eyes are bone dry. 

that’s because she doesn’t belong here, your brain chimes in. not among your friends and your family. 

well, ex-family…

her name doesn’t immediately come to the forefront of your mind. all you know from that drunken night is how charli made you block all her socials at the end of it. as if you were going to go back to them again and again. as if you have no purpose in life other than obsessing over your ex’s new girl. 

she sighs, then looks out the window with a bored expression on her face and you have to focus your attention back to the bride and groom before you do something drastic. not before you catch matty looking at you from the corner of your eye, however. 

not just at you…he’s staring at the plunging neckline of your dress that shows off your cleavage wonderfully. with the big window to your side, it’s so clear to see every little detail of his face—his teeth gnawing on his bottom lip (he’s unaware that he’s doing it. you know that for a fact). his pupils that are blown out wide, making almost the entirety of his eyes look black; dark and hungry. 

your mouth curls into a smirk, arrogant enough to mirror his own. well, this is interesting. 

matty’s mouth presses into a thin line. even now, after you caught him so red-handed, he’s trying to deny it. but you don’t miss his ears turning the telltale shade of pink. 

“...and i promise to love you for the rest of my life.” george’s voice breaks on the last word, the tears flowing freely but he smiles through all of it. in front of you, charli’s shoulders shake. they haven’t even put the rings on each other yet and they’re already emotional. it makes you laugh, and surprising, you feel the tears escaping your eyes.

i promise to love you for the rest of my life. that’s what matty had said too. i promise to dance in the kitchen with you and do all my silly little romantic gestures. i promise to never let you fall. i promise, i promise, i promise…

so many of them unkept, so many of them just pretty words spoken on a perfect day in front of a tearful audience. 

“i do!” charli squeals before the question is even finished, making everyone laugh. a wet chuckle escapes you at her infectious joy. 

“do you, george, take charli to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the officiant asks. 

“i do,” he says patiently and charli sticks her tongue out at him. 

you sincerely hope they stay like this for the rest of their lives—polar opposites who complete each other. not people who are so similar, they don’t know how to exist in the same space anymore. 

matty smiles, first at the couple and then, shockingly, at you. husband and wife he mouths. 

jarringly still, you smile back. 

i would love to hear what you think 🤭

[imaginethezeldaverse]

Omg finally someone who writes for Revali! A lot of people seem to hate/dislike him so it's rare to find someone who writes for him. Or they write him as just a total prick and ooc. You write him so well it feels real almost! For the nsfw alphabet C,U,M, and I for our underappreciated grumpy bird boi please? Have a lovely day/ night and remember to stay hydrated 💜

Oh that’s a shame! I actually thought he was popular? That’s upsetting to think people hate him 🥺 I appreciate Revali for his cocky but ultimately caring personality. Gives him some dimension! I’d be happy to do that for you! And thank you for such sweet words, it makes me truly happy that my work feels close to a true Revali for you, that’s all I could ask for as a writer 🥺❤️

NSFW Alphabet can be referenced here.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Revali doesn’t cum a tremendous amount, but he cums fast and hard - so if he has you in a particular position meant to fill you up, you’re going to feel that heat of his seed hit you surprisingly quick. His favorite place to cum (if it’s not inside you 👀) is on your chest. Watching one of your errogenous areas rise and fall with his cum splashed across you really riles his tail feathers.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Revali is not overly vocal during sex - but you will see plenty of intimacy in his expressions and actions. So things like nuzzling into your neck, pecking kisses into your skin, he’s very physical in making sure he spells his love out on you. You may also catch it in the very hazed stare he has on him as he leans his head on yours - those bright green pools darkening to a shady emerald, filled with a mix of his lust and love. Revali enjoys showing not telling.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Giving him the “come fuck me eyes” works like a charm. In fact, any subtle movements that allure him or alert him to the fact that you want or need him gets him going because his bird of prey senses can pick them up where no one else’s can. So that seconds worth of a lip bite or the tiniest little moan you make while shifting your legs has his head plume puffing up at attention. He knows those gestures and noises, knows what they mean - and Revali is happy to oblige his pretty birdie if you’re in that mood.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh Revali loves to tease you. His piercing green eyes, suave voice, and that cocky grin are all part in his arsenal of aspects to make your legs shake in anticipation. He’ll crowd your body with his wings, press his beak right up next to your ear even. Anything to get you to writhe if that’s his goal. Now while he can dish it - he absolutely can’t take it. Teasing him is the quickest way to get yourself wrapped up his feathers and covered in kisses, should that be your goal.

[specialinterestshows]

Heyyyyy

So im filling the void rn with smut. So could u maybe write really sweet smutty thing with Damian x Rhea x Reader. Where Daddy! Damian And Mommy! Rhea have kinky ass sex With sub!reader. Bonus points for anal and overstim

One sweet ‘n’ smutty coming right up!

The following is the first section of a Daddy!Damian Priest and Mommy!Rhea Ripley x transmasc!sub!reader fic I’m calling Que Llueva.

Warnings for this section: Pain (chronic leg injury), amputation mention, Mommy/Daddy kink, light choking, dirty talk

-

Que Llueva (Part 1 of 4): I Can’t Stand The Rain

“Cómo estás, lindo?”

The question was gentle and came from your partner Damian, a worried look on his face as he laid next to you in bed and watched you toss and turn every few seconds. Feeling your other partner shifting next to you in her sleep, you stayed still a bit longer this time and let out a small “fuck” as you winced before answering in a whisper, “It’s really bad today.”

You were referring to a chronic leg injury you had developed from a few different matches where you refused to tap out when you probably should have. The pain was always worse when the weather was bad and - judging by the sharp jolts that came in waves and the dark clouds rolling in just outside the window - you had woken up just before the start of a very rainy day.

“Lo siento, mi amor,” Damian whispered back, his deep voice a much more welcome rumble than the distant thunder outside. Gently holding one hand up against your face after you winced at another wave of stabbing pain, he asked “Como puedo ayudarte?”

“Mmm?” Rhea shifted next to you again, waking up groggily and rubbing her eyes, “S’the matter?”

“It’s the weather,” Damian explained, before checking with you, “Right?”

Groaning as you shifted again, you nodded before addressing Rhea, “Sorry for waking you.”

“Shhh, no apologizing,” she insisted, stretching a bit before putting an arm around you, holding you close, “Waking up to my pretty boys is never a bad thing.”

“Excuse you, I’m a pretty man,” Damian winked and wiggled his eyebrows at the two of you, making you smile for a second - before you were hit with another spike in your pain and let out an involuntary yelp.

“You sure we can’t do anything, guapo?” Damian asked, sharing a concerned look with Rhea.

“Aside from amputation?” you forced a laugh, but you were only half joking.

“You know,” Rhea said, sliding her hand up to your throat, “Mommy can think of something that might help.”

Feeling her fingers close around your throat made you hard almost immediately as you instinctively held your breath. It was a slight relief, having a part of your body that wasn’t your leg begging for attention.

“What do you say, lindo?” Damian asked, sharing a look with Rhea before slowly pulling the blanket away from your body, “Let us try to make you feel better?”

“Yes, please,” you begged, feeling your face heat up a bit, “Please Mommy, Daddy, I just want to feel good.”

“Pobrecito,” Damian muttered as he moved close, kissing you passionately while Rhea’s hand remained around your neck. You were used to hearing him say it in a mocking way most of the time, but, right now, there was genuine care in his voice. Chills went up your spine as Rhea gave your ass a gentle squeeze with her free hand, then trailed her sharp nails up your uninjured thigh and underneath your boxers - making some of your pain melt into desire.

“Turn him around and hand me the lube, would you?” Damian pulled away to ask Rhea.

She gave your throat a squeeze and dug her nails into your thigh a bit more before pulling away. Pushing you down onto your back, Rhea paused when you inhaled sharply and winced, letting you turn the rest of the way yourself.

“You’ll let Mommy and Daddy know what works best for your leg, won’t you, darling?” Rhea checked, furrowed brow relaxing when you nodded, “Good boy” - she pulled out the bottle of lube from the nightstand as you felt Damian undress behind you - “We’ll give you plenty of other sensations to focus on, don’t you worry.”

[end part one of four]

Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/specialinterestshows/735830791361363968/que-llueva-part-2-let-it-pour

-

Tag List (thank you!)

@babybatlover , @domripley , @falloutboy-lover

[nereidprinc3ss]

we are sooo back i finally read pt 7 for the first time this morning i am here to give you my dissertation as usual spoiler alert i think u are everything good in this world

i really like how even though the part started off kind of high paced (if that makes sense) like i could Feel the energy & how passionate it was, it ended up slowing down a bit & they talked about things before deciding to continue because i’m sure that wasn’t easy to come up with and write 😭 i feel like figuring out how to start writing something is super hard & especially coming off the end of pt6 where the energy is hot and heavy LOL i feel like it couldn’t have been easy to figure out how to segway that into the beginning of a whole new part (unless it was easy cause you’re just good at everything nobody would be surprised) but i really thought that was so cool how you managed to do that in a way that felt natural & then get right back into the hot and heaviness later LOL and i think it’s funny cause like at one point in the series r was like it’s like spencer has sex and chaste affection on tap being able to switch between them & IT FEELS LIKE U DO TOO IN YOUR WRITING like you’re able to go back and forth so seamlessly and i think it is perfect i think you’re perfect

anyway this entire paet made me tear up 😭 i love love and everything about it just so so much and. everything about this was so so wonderful i Loved the callbacks to other parts in the series and the point that really got me is after he was inside and she said i love you to him and he just stopped and looked at her for a second because of his fantasy in andromeda 😭😭 like made me cry when i was reading that part too but seeing it here literally made me want to DIE because it’s like She doesn’t know what that means to him like she didn’t even know he was having all those thoughts about her and she didn’t know how scared and insecure he was thinking she wouldn’t love him back and he couldn’t even hear her voice in his imagination saying it to him like she doesn’t know all that BUT HE KNOWS AND WE KNOW and now that worry is gone like it was just such a perfect full circle moment and even though i reread the other chapter yesterday to prepare for this, that specific part wasn’t really the first thing on my mind when i was reading this LOL like i wasn’t reading and thinking “ok so when is she gonna say i love you” so when she said it and the connection hit me and then i saw his reaction it genuinely ran into me like a monster truck and i am serious like i physically had to put my phone down and then that’s when i started tearing up. like it was just so perfect and made my chest ache like they love each other so much i will literally fucking die Today

also when he said she was the most beautiful girl in the world and asked if she BELIEVED HIM like AND SHE SAID SHE DID like omfg the most full circle moment ever it was so perfect i just love how you incorporated all those points in so bad like that closure 🥹 and again it’s even more impressive cause this series was never supposed to have a plot LOL but i really loved the way you wrapped that in like u know how in a movie or show when they name drop the title and everybody squeals a little bit yeah that’s what reading that part felt like to me

and when they started talking about the cafe afterwards it was so sweet and lovely like reading it felt so cozy and warm and then my jaw dropped when he said lord byron’s name was ada because WHAT DO YOU MEAN like i am a self proclaimed connoisseur of the nereidprinc3ss cinematic universe as anyone who’s anyone should be and i had to put my phone down again because i reread toaster waffles for the 85th time last week and that sentence also hit me like a monster truck i’m not sure if you realize how many lives around the world were affected with that reference but i immediately knew where you were going with it and it made me cry MORE. also i need to know did u plan that from the jump when you were writing strange perfections cause that is so cool like u wrote toaster waffles ages ago and i know it’s not Really connected with dybmn but i just thought ada was a cute little name & that’s it like! like did u decide to incorporate lord byron bc u had alr chosen that name or was it just a coincidence like omfg u perfect little genius I WILL KISS U

and then the end when they both got so emotional i will DIE like it was so 🥹🥹 both of them were so sad and insecure for different reasons and now it’s. like it’s all resolved and happy and they all feel so loved and everybody gets to smile I WILL LITERALLY DIE RIGHT NOW and the way you add humor throughout is so effortless like they’re both about to cry and she’s like no more tears cause that would be LOSERISH i just adore everything about it

u are perfect and i love u i will probably be back with more thoughts later this is just my first read through but i felt so much and i loved it and i feel crazy about you spencer reid

i literally have post book depression right now LMFAO which is so crazy to say about a fanfiction series that was never even supposed to have a plot but i can’t help who i am unfortunately maybe it’s because i’m also on the last season of cm right now and all of a sudden i’m feeling Sad like wdym i do not want it to end STOP IT. but this was so perfect i love it and i love u i think u are wonderful and perfect and amazing u worked so hard on this series and i hope You love the outcome as much as literally everybody else does

& above all i really so truly hope u find the kind of love u write about i mean that with all my heart

🧸 love u

OHHHH MY GOD MY BEAUTIFUL PERFECT DARLING ANGEL FROM HEAVEN I LOVE U SO MUCH

like so much u truly have no idea seeing ur little teddy bear emoji in my inbox always makes me so happy cause ik im abt to FEAST like u always pick up on every single nuance and detail and make so many connections and it’s just so so rewarding ily

ok as for the toaster waffles/strange perfections connection, I don’t entirely remember if im being honest LOL i think it was a coincidence at first like yes ada in toaster waffles was named after ada lovelace, that was always going to be my spencer x reader’s kids name like regardless of the universe it just seemed fitting that he would wanna name his daughter after a rlly intelligent important historical figure. and then i was watching this video about lord byron and it mentioned his daughter and i was like holy shit i had no idea he was her dad and then i put it into strange perfections i think? but i wrote strange perfections so quickly and it was so unplanned that im not sure, i might have written it and then watched the video? idk i remember it feeling like more of a coincidence, i feel like i remember discovering this accidental connection i had put into the story and then tying it together in the end with some foreshadowing of the dybmn pairing eventually having a kid if that’s how u choose to perceive it but i truly don’t remember😭

anyways you’re so incredibly sweet and i love u so much u have no idea how much ur asks make my life. and you have no idea how much that last little part of ur message means to me truly:( like more than u could ever know!! you deserve all the love in the world thank you so much angel i hope you are having the best day im seriously hugging u right now 🫂 like that’s us i am hugging u so much!!!!

[miraclesnail]

YOUR STOLL SERIES IS A MARVEL THAT WE SHOULD TREASURE FOREVER

THEY ARE SO FUNNY SILLY AND HAVE GROWN UP SO MUCH I LOVE THEM

THANK U VERY MUCH FOR WRITING THEY ARE MY FAVOURITE AND HOW U DESCRIBE THEIR INTERACTIONS WITH OTHER CHARACTERS IS FANTASTIC

and maybe they do not show it but they so worried about new campers. they welcome everyone in their family with open arms nd its just so nice. like a found family

Do u mind answering some questions? i would like to know about callie. i mean, she is six or so. how did she get to camp? her mom/dad dropped her there and left? a stayr? bc i image that it may be different from the way in which the stoll arrived. does connor feel kind of protective with her? not just because she is a toddler, but also bc he was the same age when he first stepped on camp. And she arrived kind of the middle of the war. What travis and connor make her do when they are in the battle? Does she wake up in the middle of the night terrified bc of nightmares? i mean how a toddler deals with all of that? do travis and connor send everyone back to sleep and take her out to calm her down? i cannot imagine their suffering during and after the war.

i dont know, maybe i just a want a chapter of callie jajajajaj

another one: do travis and katie end together? i hope so bc THEY ARE SO CUTE he is a golden retriever and she is not a black cat, maybe a grey cat. less hyperactive, but still supporting him

THANKS THANKS THANKS FOR ALL THE WRITING YOU ARE AMAZING I LOVE U ❤️

same anon that asked about callie here! I just realized sth: does callie (and other hermes children) really mistake the stolls names or she does it on purpose most times? bc i believe that after some time that u r all day and night with people that look alike, u can say who is who better than others. So I imagine that Callie tries to seem confused and cute so she can change the focus of what is happening (pranks, lies, not the importamt things). I also think that she and the others can identify the brothers even if they dont see their faces. And another question: when does travis let the children get away with lies? cause his lies detector is always turn on and he knows that better than anyone. So he knows they are children and they do not need to be call out all the time and that should feel they fool their authority figure/got away with sth, even if the things are just small ones well, i think thats really everything, thank u!

(I hope you don't mind me just copy/pasting the second part into the first ask)

Thank you for reading the series! It really, really makes me happy! 😊

I know the topics are kind of niche and I wrote them to suit my tastes, so I'm happy to know others like it as well!

i would like to know about callie.

To answer your questions, it's probably not what you want to hear 😣 but I like to picture Callie as a well-adjusted demigod for her age with loving parents who probably wanted her to start her demigod training early because weird things started popping up and they didn’t want to take any risk. I don’t think I had anything tragic planned for her like I did for my other OCs. I was going to write a one-shot for her where she tells the brothers apart by what snacks they like but I got ideas for Lee’s and Michael’s parts and they took years to write that I completely forgot about the cabin 11-snack chapter 😅. It’s more fluff than angst, so I don’t know if you’ll like it. But I like to think Travis and Connor are protective of her, just like they are with the rest of their cabinmates. I don’t think any of the counselors are crazy enough to let anyone under 10 or 9 fight, so I just picture them ordering their younger siblings to hide in their cabins. And those that they think are too scared/too incapable to fight like how I pictured in Clovis-nightmare. 

do travis and katie end together? 

I'm sorry, but there won't be any chapters with Katie and Travis in a romantic relationship. I probably won’t write Travis or Connor in any romantic/sexual relationship. Mostly because writing romance takes me a long time and also because I like the Will/Travis ship and I headcanon Connor as aroace. Sorry to disappoint. 

Friendship and familial relationships are far easier for me to write so that’s why the series is full of the & tags.

does callie (and other hermes children) really mistake the stolls names or she does it on purpose most times? 

I like to think most of yearrounders can tell Travis and Connor apart in seconds (except for Clarisse, because I legit don’t think she would hang out with them for any extended period of time), but for the summer-only campers I think it’s harder for them. I never been to summer camp so maybe I’m very wrong, but there’s not many one-on-one interactions with the head counselor unless needed, right? They’re just the people that keep things in order and help out the campers that's struggling to adjust? Especially in a big cabin like Hermes, not every camper will have a close relationship with Travis and Connor to the point they can tell them apart quickly. 

But they can always get them back to back and compare the heights easily enough lol 😆

So I imagine that Callie tries to seem confused and cute so she can change the focus of what is happening (pranks, lies, not the importamt things).

I like this so much! It's such a cute picture 😄

when does travis let the children get away with lies?

I like to think Travis and Connor are pretty chill. As long as their cabinmates' antics won't lead to someone dying, then they'll let it be. And in case someone gets super mad and wants to kill them, I'm super sure Travis and Connor got their back 👍

Thank you for the asks! Have a nice day!

[noroi1000]

Yo! Can u do Boyfriend Gojo × Y/N

Where they get bored n then y/n suggests to do a fun role-playing game for passing time where she acts like a waitress welcoming gojo in her restaurant(imaginary) n he sits on the couch imagining it as luxurious chair of the restaurant or smtg n when she asks him "what would u like to eat sir?" He says "I would love to eat You~" then y/n becomes shocked n goes like "Gojo ur literally a customer in a Restaurant so act like one!" N then he gives some cocky reply like "isn't the work of a waiter is to listen to the customer?" then he makes things heated n then... ;)

(No need to write same exact dialogs btw I just wrote them for a reference)

Make it NSFW obv hehe 🍡

Thx in Advance I will be waiting for the reply ;)

Homemade Maid Cafe

Paring: Gojo x reader

pictures not mine!

Warnings: smut (sex on table, maid outfit, role-playing)

"(y/n)-chan, (y/n)-chan! Let's play something!"

You looked at your boyfriend who was standing next to you. Preventing you from leaving the wall you were standing against.

"A maid cafe?" you asked.

"Yeah! You know... I'm bored." He laughed.

"I noticed, Satoru. Also, I've seen you looking at descriptions about coffee shops like this." You said, waiting for what he would say next.

"You know, I was thinking... And I feel like playing role-play..." He muttered with a smile.

"It'll be dinner soon. But I'll play with you." You said looking towards the kitchen. Hoping to escape before he catches you.

Such fun always ends with one...

Especially if you're going to play it with him...

He put his hand on the wall behind you.

"Honey, you just recently said you were bored. Me too. So we can play something. Now." He smiled. "Besides, it's good. We will eat dinner. How about you be my waitress?"

You looked at him blushing. Even if you proposed it to him.

You know what he means...

Whenever he's bored, his thoughts come out as something perverted. When he's not trying to convince you to have sex, he's saying something related to it. Or touches you.

And this is something like this.

Or maybe he just wants something like this?

You won't know until you see it.

"Fine... What should I do?" you asked, watching his smile grow bigger every second.

He left for a while and then came back, handing you a transparent package with a maid's outfit inside.

"You've prepared for this, haven't you?"

You picked up the outfit.

You don't know if he was tying the right size.

Besides, you know exactly that he knows your clothes sizes. So it's no wonder he brings you outfits that fit.

But it's a bit smaller.

And you know exactly why. This man loves to watch you put on his clothes. He feels so proud then. And you look nice wearing his shirt hanging off your body. Or that his shirt sticks to your breasts sometimes. Especially when you don't wear a bra and your nipples stick out.

Then shivers run down his spine and the heat only goes between his legs, pumping blood to the body part he's been using too much on you already.

And even more, he loves to see you in clothes that cling to your body. Showing him every roundness.

At least this outfit is not a variety for a small child. You'll fit in it easily.

You're only concerned about the length of the skirt.

He might as well have bought it at a sex shop. And in such a store there are no other outfits than those that are too short, revealing too much, or those that have holes in the material in places other than just for legs, arms and head.

"I've been wondering what you'd look like in this for a while."

You took your clothes to the bathroom and started changing.

When you left, you saw him sitting on the couch with his legs spread. And in front of him was the low table that had been in the living room for as long as you can remember.

"You look beautiful!" He said cheerfully.

"Sir, it's not nice to comment so loudly on the waitress' outfit." You said getting into the role.

If he laughs at it, you'll burn with shame.

Or you burn him.

You could have made up a funeral game or an accountant game. Nah... If you were playing funeral and the table or the bed was a fake coffin, he'd jump on you and start fucking you...

If you were playing accounting, he'd make you change into a skirt, shirt, and jacket, and he'd throw you on the desk and fuck you. So either way, it's going to end badly.

At least now while you're his "waitress", you can go up to him, ask him what he wants to eat, then you'll serve him his dinner, and that's it...

"You should sit at the kitchen table. It would look more like a restaurant." You said pointing to the chairs.

"Nope. I'm in a fancy restaurant where I'm sitting on the couch. And I'm served by the most beautiful waitress." He smiled wildly, looking at your body over his glasses.

"Fine." You reached into the apron you were wearing and pulled out the small notebook that came with it.

You walked over to him.

"What would you like to eat, sir?" You asked.

Maybe he'll like this game if you fit your role perfectly.

He was staring at the table with his fingers on his chin.

You thought he was thinking about what's for dinner tonight so he could say it.

He suddenly smiled and looked at you.

"Oh, I know. I'd like to order an orange juice." he said looking at you.

You wrote it down in a little notebook.

"What to eat?" You asked with a pen ready to write on a piece of paper.

"I'd like to eat you~."

You widened your eyes at his perverted comment.

You looked at him and, shocked, decided to step out of your role for a moment to tell him your opinion.

"Satoru, you are literally a restaurant customer. So act like a customer!" you said before clearing your throat. "So what would you like to eat?"

"I want to eat you, baby."

You thought you'd break a pink pen in your hand when you heard that.

"You should not -".

He interrupted you.

"Excuse me, but isn't a waiter's job to listen to the customer?" There was still a smile on his face.

You decided to stay calm and continue.

"Today I'm offering you baked chicken with vegetables." You said with a smile.

"No thanks. I feel like something different today."

"What is this?"

You wanted to come over and throw that pen at him if he said anything about eating you.

"Something sweet."

You nodded. It was normal.

"What exactly?" you asked.

"Uhm... your sweet pussy~."

You clenched your fists and wanted to punch him.

But how much he only mentioned about fucking you made you wet.

Why don't you play his game?

It can be interesting and enjoyable.

"What exactly do you want, sir?" You asked again.

"Your body now on this table. No panties, pussy towards me."

More moisture gathered between your legs.

"Perhaps you prefer chicken, though? I recommend it." You said with a smile.

Suddenly he got up.

"No. I want my order. That's what I said. Unless you want me to talk to your boss."

Oh yes, you want to play this game.

"boss? Why boss, sir? I don't want to lose my job. Chicken is our dish of the day..." you said softly. Getting into the role too much.

A dangerous customer in a restaurant? Oh yes.

"I want my order. I'll come for chicken another time. I know it's probably delicious." he replied.

"Please sir-."

"I'm going to the boss. Guide me. I'll turn to him and you will be punished."

"Oh no! Please! Don't tell the boss! I will be a good waitress. I don't want to lose this job. Please sir~."

Hearing your sounds made his cock harden in his pants.

"Will you be a good little waitress and fill my order? I'm really hungry. And really generous. I'll tip you for a job well done." He said as he sat back on the couch.

He spread his legs, showing how comfortable he felt.

This game was interesting...

You walked over to the empty table in front of him and slowly pulled your panties off.

You knelt in front of him, grabbing his sweatpants and pulling the material down.

Allowing the hard, standing cock to pop out.

"Here is your order. I hope you will enjoy the service and the meal."

Saying that, you opened your mouth, letting the mushroom pink tip into your mouth. Listening to his contented purr.

  As your pussy dripped from how aroused you were by sucking him, he pushed your face away.

He let you straighten up as you knelt in front of him.

"Is that what you ordered?" You asked innocently.

"Yeah. The appetizer was perfect. Please give me the main course." he said with a smile and gestured for you to turn around.

He pushed you gently onto the table until your breasts were pressed against the wood.

He pushed the couch with his foot so he could kneel behind you and have plenty of room.

He lifted your skirt and curved it, arranging the fabric so it wouldn't get in the way.

He put his knee between your calves, signaling you to spread your legs.

As you did, he also placed his other knee between your calves, widening your stance even a little more.

Grabbing his cock, he placed the tip against your shiny pussy, sliding down your hole and slapping against your clit.

"Mhm~ The main course looks delicious~." he murmured before inserting the tip into you

You purred as you lay on the table, feeling him slowly fill you up and then pull you out to hit you deep next time.

"A sweet waitress like you is perfect for customer service." He said placing his hands on your hips, lifting them slightly. He held to get the leverage so he could fuck you at a fast pace.

The moisture that gathered in your warm core allowed him to do so.

"This is a perfectly prepared meal. Nothing is dry. It's juicy and delicious. I want to eat a dish like this more often~" he moaned pulling your hips closer as he fucked you.

As you moaned, you searched for anything to put your hands there.

You found the corner of the table with one hand.

His hips hit yours at breakneck speed. Making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

The fact that your body was pressed against the table made the table scrape on the floor. And you, too, felt the strength and speed of his thrusts.

Your belly, or rather lower abdomen, was pressed against the wood. That's why you felt even more clearly how he pressed deep inside you, in a straight line. Reaching even deeper.

Even if your eyes were watery, behind your mouth drooling, you found your way to his body with your hand.

And you put your hand right over his cock.

The way you could feel the veins under his skin under your fingers. And the fine pubic hair he sometimes doesn't shave off. Not that it bothers you.

He slowly began to stretch out. He left only the tip inside, but as he moved, his cock snapped back, slamming the tip wet in your fluids into his stomach.

Thus touching your hand.

"You're a nice waitress. I'm a generous customer, and in return for such a delicious meal, I'll tip you."

He suddenly thrust into you again, moving inside you even faster. Making you scream and cry as you lay on the table. Your legs twitched as you tried to tighten them, but his knees prevented you from doing so.

You couldn't stop a client who was making your pussy spasm. That held you in place and prevented you from changing position.

His tip for you was too nice.

As he placed his thumb on your clit, you reached for his wrist to stop him.

But before you could push his fingers away, you came, spilling your juices all over him. Tightening it, alternately pushing out waves of your wetness that made it so slippery. However, he continued to move within you. But he slowed down to only slow thrusts so as not to leave you empty.

Then he pulled a length of it out of you with a loud, wet sound.

Your body was shaking and your face was red. When he touched the tip of your pussy, you let out a soft moan.

He covered wet length with his boxers, and lifted you off the floor.

Swinging you gently over his shoulder.

"I think I'd like some more dessert. I've got a craving for that pussy. It looks sweet and delicious~."

You can't... Especially with his mouth pressing into your pussy...

But well, your client is your master. You listen to what your boyfriend/customer says.

Humming, he went to your bedroom.

Oh... You forgot to bring him the orange juice he wanted...

[vinnieswife]

hello ! can you do jude smut where it’s like rough sex say he was frustrated after a game

Jude Bellingham x fem! reader

words: 2345

warnings: smut!, rough smut, dirty talk, no protection (wrap it before you tap it), bad lenguage (?).

author’s note: the people here knows way to much how i think oml, I have been writing this for 3 days and u didn’t know how to end it, the end is trash tho, enjoy my dirty rumpelstinkis 😈

Jude had invited you to the stadium to watch the game, and you were absolutely heartbroken when they lost. He had been the standout player in the England team, and you hated to see him lose when he had worked so hard for the full ninety minutes. After the game you went down to the tunnel, so you could wait outside the changing rooms, ready for him to come out and meet you. Jude came out of the room, a little pout on his lips. You said nothing, but opened your arms, wrapping him in a warm embrace. You felt him leaning against you, his head resting against your shoulder. "You played so well, honey," you whispered in his ear, rubbing his back. "I should have done better," you stared into his eyes "Jude don't say that, you played well" he bit his bottom lip and roll eyes, "I know, but the refs, and the horrible fouls, it seemed like everything was against us Y/n" you caressed his cheeks and gave him a warm smile "how about we go home now?”

Jude spent the whole car ride ranting about the other team and complaining about how the referee didn't see any fouls against the England team, his anger increased with every word that came out of his mouth, his brow was furrowed and the vein in his neck looked like it was going to explode.

As soon as you entered the apartment, Jude's lips pressed roughly to yours, the bag with his clothes lying on the floor and his shoes discarded in the hallway, Jude led you to the couch, he sat you down and placed you on his lap. Breathing heavily, you looked into his eyes, feeling all the rage radiating from his body. Gently Jude began to undo the buttons of your jacket until it was completely unbuttoned, he slid the fabric over your shoulders gently until it fell to the floor.

You both stared at each other as if it were a silent argument but all you could feel was the adrenaline slowly surging through your nerves, Jude's eyes were completely dark, lust slowly consuming him, he unbuttoned his shirt agonizingly slowly, sensually. His toned chest coming into view as he teasingly took his time, maintaining a flirtatious look, your eyes lingered from his chest, down towards the lower region of his body.

His pace almost making you feel a tinge of anticipation and impatience. His hands took place on your hips caressing the edge of your shirt, "Jude I-", "Shh" his lips came in contact with yours, softer than the first time, your hand was placed on the back of his neck, giving more force to the kiss. At this moment your lips parted only for Jude to remove your shirt, throwing your head back, you groaned as he began to place passionate kisses along your neck. You felt yourself grow needier by each second, impatience slowly fogging your vision and thoughts of anything else. His hands moved down to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze until his lips made contact with yours again, Jude stood up and carried you into the bedroom, throwing you onto the bed roughly.

"no games now sweetheart" your swallowed hard knowing this was going to be a long night, on one hand you were sad that Jude was losing games as he was trying so hard to be a good player, but on the other hand, you were grateful for all the anger he built up to vent in nights of pure passion and exhilaration.

His arms went to either side of your head kissing your lips only to make a path of kisses down your jaw, neck, leaving a occasional mark in the valley of your breasts, his hands squeezing your sides tightly as his lips reached the waistband of your pants, his hands quickly unbuttoning them leaving you in just your underwear, at this point you didn't know how Jude was holding back so much.

You could feel your pulse raise by the second, only to increase the dampness that already soaked right through your underwear, he was leaving kisses all along the line of your underwear until he hooked them with his teeth, pulled them down your legs and threw them somewhere in the room. You relentlessly attempted to unbuckle his belt, the shakiness and speed in your actions indirectly showing him how desperate and needy you were. Tugging his pants down, you eyed him deviously before noticing his tented boxers, the feeling of his jeans being removed made him let out a sigh of relief as you directly stared at his eyes. Before you knew it he had harshly pushed you against the pillows, hovering above you once again but with an almost animalistic grin.

Your body stiffened and trembled with fear and excitement. He pressed his erection against your naked body and began to rub you slowly, you closed your eyes and gasped, arching your back at the pleasure that stimulated your nether region. Heat coursed through your veins as he pressed harder against you causing you to clutch at his shoulders.

"How does it feel love?"

He held your hands on either side of your head as his lips left wet kisses on your neck. “Ah shit, feels g-good aah”

"I know you're thinking of me pounding into you mercilessly."

His fingers lightly traced your silky smooth skin as his lips brushed your earlobe.

"Thinking about how I'll ruin you, about making you tremble beneath me."

You grew impatient, his dirty words made you feel even more wet and aroused, your face flushed, your eyes watery, your mouth half open, your hair disheveled locks beginning to fall against your face. He was the only one capable of leaving you like that after only a few minutes.

Then he tugged at his boxers, pulling them off with a tantalizing slowness that almost made you groan with relief. He stared into your eyes as he slowly thrust into you, his length penetrating you deeper and deeper, tremors shook your body and euphoric heat blossomed inside you, as if you were short of breath with pleasure.

The sensation of your walls enveloping him even deeper sent electrifying waves throughout your body. His thrusts were fast and strong, leaving your mind blank. Jude let out a low growl and sank his head into your neck, pulling out and thrusting back into you, the sensation was indescribable; the penetration you felt was immense.

Little by little he raised the pace and made you beg for more without ceasing. Moans came out of your mouth from time to time, with tears at the corners of your eyes.

Your walls tightened around him every time he penetrated you, and his deep moans excited you even more.

"fuck m-more... Ah~ please" you managed to speak between moans. And he gave you more, his fingers moved swiftly against your clit rubbing in a circular motion; he immediately stimulated your center you moaned and bit your lip hard to avoid the temptation to let out a moan.

"I need to hear you, baby," he reached to say between thrusts, your walls tightening around him each time he buried himself inside you. In fact, he was overstimulating you beyond measure and you were enjoying every bit of it. The sensation of him hitting your sensitive spot was enough to push you over the edge.

"I'm gonna cum..." what was intended to sound like a naturally spoken sentence came out as a gasp, you could feel your voice cracking in the back of your throat.

You're moaning as Jude fucks you, your hands reaching up his back and your nails digging into his skin. He lets out a moan from the feeling of your touch. Jude needs to feel your pussy tighten around his cock.

He fucks you harder and faster and in one final, deep thrust, he feels your pussy tighten on him, your nails gripping into his back, body twitching under him, moaning his name, causing him to cum deep inside you. He leans down to kiss you softly as he stopped his movements and looked at you before pulling out, giving you a chance to catch your breath.

Jude let himself fall beside you, catching his breath for a couple of minutes, after that he got up to go to the bathroom, you heard the water turn on, and a while later he came out of the bathroom with a wet cloth to clean you, he left a kiss on your forehead "sorry if i was to rough darling" with a worried expression on his face, "that was great Jude, i hate it when you lose but i love this" you said while a silly smile adorned your face. Jude shook his head smiling as he carried you over so you both could take a bath to relax the tension.

[cixteenyne]

Alright, I just thought of something really dirty so it's okay if u don't want to write and ignore it - but imagine being the perfect slut for some My Hero Academia guys 👀

Like, always being available for them to use your body, no matter what day or time it is. To the point where they got addicted to you and don't want any other pussy but yours, where their favorite topic of conversation is about how good you feel and how you're always tight despite getting fucked every day, whether it's just for a single cock, two or all at once.

I think it would be interesting if you write short drabbles for each guy, for example:

Monday, 7:30 PM: Doggy style with Kaminari while he films it

Wednesday, 9:21 PM: Spend hours sucking Kirishima's monster cock

Friday, 6:10 AM: Nothing better than starting the day that morning sex with Monoma after fucking you just last night

Sunday, 11:45 PM: The weekend ends and deserves to end with rough sex in a threesome with Todoroki and Bakugo

And so with the boys that you want and the ideas that comes to your mind :) sorry for my english btw and thanks! 🌝

Ok! this will be a multiple part thing, it wont be quick, ill just kind of do it when im not tired (im always tired). but! here is part one! Sundayyyy, with bakugou and Todoroki (i kept alternated between shoto and Todoroki so my baaaad)

Content warning(s): Cunnilingus, Kinda Poly? idk they all like you, Threesomes, Face fucking, Dacryphilia, throat fucking, wrote this at 3AM, so don't expect mind blowing (get it?) smut.

Ah, Sunday...

A rather relaxing day, if you said so yourself, no classes, nothing to do all day. Maybe for you that was true, but Todoroki was in a bit of a pickle, and if Todoroki has a problem, he's going to make it someone else's.

That “someone else” happened to be Bakugou.

This is always how it starts, todoroki gets horny, so he riles up some other friend of his, and then they both come to you, this time he managed to work up Bakugou enough to come see you.

You knew exactly how he did it, too.

He would sit next to someone in the common room, and talk about tons of downright disgusting things he would do to you, he knows they’ll always agree with him, to take you apart with him.

Sure Shoto was oblivious about many things, the effect he had on others, more or less. But he wasn't oblivious about the effect his words had on the other guys in the dorms. All he had to do was say something with pretty packaging, involving you in some way, and Midoriya was already packing a boner and ready to come see you, or Kaminari was already stalking his way towards your room, and Bakugou was already stomping in front of him to get to your door,

To say you could hear them coming from a mile away was an understatement.

Which is why you should have expected to be bent over by someone like him. Like bakugou.

He was hogging you, but Shoto didn't seem to mind, content to scheme while Bakugou marked and prepared you. He was planning to have you take both of them in some way, he just needed a minute to think is all.

The second he was done with your back, biting it up and leaving evidence of himself all over you, he flipped you over to mark up that pretty throat of yours, licking and sucking up the column of your neck.

The noises were obscene and purposeful, he wanted you to hear how much of a mess he was making of your skin, he wanted you to hear the marks, not just see them.

Bakugou began to let up, taking a breather as Todoroki took the chance to hog you for himself, Bakugou scoffing at his eagerness.

Todoroki kissed over top of bakugou’s marks, soothed them with the kiss of a sweetheart, Shoto had a way of ruining you without making it look like he was, he could be destroying you, leaving you no room to do anything but hiccup and cry as he shushed you into a whimpering mess, and as long as he smiled like that, it would look like he was doing nothing wrong,and could do no wrong.

He could blow up a village on live TV and cover it with a smile, and everyone would convince themselves it was CGI, despite having been there to witness it.

He began to undress you, his lips ghosting over your body, over each piece of skin revealed, his hands running up your sides, sliding the shirt off of you, the more your stomach was revealed the further his lips followed, finishing the route with a kiss on your abdomen.

He didn't want you to look away from him, was he staring this whole time?

He never broke his gaze, not even as Bakugou slid his frame beside you to kiss at your neck, not liking being left out. Not even as he slipped his lithe fingers into your waistband and pulled down, not even as his tongue poked out to taste his prize, only ever closing once he got what he wanted.

His mouth closed around his tongue. Around your clit.

The moan that left you is always what he chases after.

Bakugou did want you to forget about him, so if you had his cock in your mouth, that would make it impossible for you to forget he's here, since you seem so enamored with ‘Icy-hot’ over there. He grumbled, getting his hips in your face, he palmed himself through his pants at your moans, he almost felt bad for Todoroki, he was going to have to muffle you. Almost.

He reached into his pants, tugging his painfully erect cock out, never stopping the slow strokes of his hand.

He threw his head back as he stroked himself in front of your face, his head rolling to the side, leering at you through his lashes.

“Open”

Was all he had to say for you to immediately obey as best as you could while todoroki ate like an animal. Bakugou slid his cock into your mouth slowly feeling the slickness of you mouth, leaving a moan falling from his lips as he advanced into your throat, slamming in so suddenly and without warning, you gagged and teared up, that pretty glittery look in your eyes, all because of him, it had precum dripped from his tip just looking at you.

He thrusted into your throat, shaking your body- pushing you into Todoroki, into his mouth.

You were so close, so, so close.

But then Todoroki stopped, a satisfied sigh falling from his lips, like a job well done.

That smile was back as he started leaning over you, watching you take Bakugou's cock up close as Shoto fiddled with his belt, seemingly in no rush to get it off.

He wanted you to hear him taking it off as best you could, he wanted to make you heat up in anticipation, maybe even in fear. As long as you linked it to him.

His belt clinked and clanked against itself as he undid it, leaning back, retreating with his hand sliding down your body as he left your face, he was going to need both hands for this.

Bakugou on one end, and he on the other, this was just too perfect.

His cock springing free, seemingly magnetizing towards your pussy, you could barely see shoto as bakugou used your face like a fleshlight, but shoto didn't mind, he wanted to keep you as oblivious as possible, this would do.

He walked up, placing a hand on your hips and immediately pushing inside of you, your eyes blown wide as you didn't expect him of all people to be so sudden with you, not even giving you a second of rest, he places both of his hands on your hips and snaps his hips as he pulls you back and forth on his cock, forcing you to meet in the middle.

Your moans were muffled by Bakugou and the sound of his balls slapping against your face, and todoroki slipping in and out of your pussy, making sure he was absolutely relentless with his hips.

His hands moving from your hips to your waist as he tries to ground himself, his eyes squeezing closed as you squeezed his cock lifeless, milking him for all he's worth,

He knew he was gonna cum soon, Bakugou was too.

You'd already came, Shoto knew that, that's why he kept going.

To see the whites of your eyes get bigger and bigger as your pupils rolled into the back of your head, unable to think as they both used you for everything you had, as they fucked their feelings into you.

He almost didn't want to stop even after he came, Bakugou didn't either.

Bakugou didn't want those other extras to have their turn with you, they didn't deserve you like he did. The thought made his hips snap faster and his head roll.

But he knew they all had to share.

You could barely think of them as you were reduced to brain mush, all except what the others had in store for Monday.

(Do not copy or translate anywhere! ask first lmao. Yes, you can still reblog bbg aha)