#I cried almost the entire time writing this if any one else cries then I win

[ifyouwaltzwiththewildthings]

You can never predict what you may find when wandering Neverland at night. Things always seem so peaceful... But there was something in the air tonight. A disgustingly familiar feeling, a faint warmth...

Smoke.

If anything could take Fletcher's eyes off the ground, snap them out of their whimsy, it was the smell of smoke. It only had to be a faint whiff for them to feel the horrible acrid feeling in their throat. Suddenly, they were far too aware of their surroundings. Eyes held wide open by fear rapidly move, searching... This has happened before, when Fletcher had gone out on nights during the bonfires the Lost Boys would light. They avoid those at all costs... But some part of Fletcher attempted to calm themself - "It's probably just a little campfire."

That was swiftly disproven, much to their dismay. A long line of smoke reaches up for the stars, embers flickering almost akin to fireflies against the night. The source... Was that right? Could it be?

Perhaps Fletcher should have just flown away, minded their business. That ship burning, well... It's only fitting, isn't it? Yet no matter how much it might be deserved... There are people on that ship, people who don't deserve to be engulfed death's hellish claw. What were they going to do? They had no idea, but their wings were already carrying them toward the Jolly Roger.

Stopping just short of the beach where the Jolly Roger sits, hiding in this kind tree's leaves...

Just in time.

Shouting and crying vaguely registered in their ears. Several silhouettes in action... But Fletcher was quick to narrow their sights on just one, the smallest that hovers in the air, surrounded by fury. Fletcher felt their horror suffocating them as they watched, paralysed.

Until...

It only took one clean cut. That's all. One dexterous movement from the wrist.

That small silhouette... Became two, separating from each other as they plummeted out of the air.

Fletcher didn't realise they had begun to scream until they felt their throat strain.

Everything was blurred as Fletcher lurched forward onto the deck of the Jolly Roger. They didn't care - he could do the same to them, could end them with far less trouble. Small puddles of blood were pooling in two separate places, and Fletcher didn't know what to do, looking between the two halves of Thorn.

Beloved Thorn...

Fletcher's knees would bruise quickly from how brutally they dropped onto the wood. Thorn, his eyes still carried that rage, that fire... Fletcher witnessed it as it ever so slightly left with each passing moment. Both their hands cupped Thorn's face tightly as they pleaded, begged. It all just turned to choked sobs before any of it could reach their lips.

For a moment, Fletcher could have sworn Thorn's eyes turned to meet theirs. Could have sworn... That they softened.

" Don't leave me! Don't leave me! Please! "

...

He's gone.

Oh, Thorn.

Gone. All gone. Lost. The world robbed.

Fletcher's sobs become muffled as they hold Thorn's torso so, so close, tears staining his clothes, burning through the fabric. Blood has utterly soaked their lap. They aren't paying any attention to that, not one bit, the pounding in their head and their heart drowned out anything else but the utter despair of holding half of a friend.

No part of Fletcher wants to move, it's a gamble on whether they even can move, but... They need to take him away from this wretched ship. But how? Tears continue to splash against Thorn as Fletcher looks between... Him, and him. How? Would they have to just take half... No, no, the pirates won't have any of him. They can't. They don't deserve him, any part of him.

The inferno alight in Fletcher's chest. Thorn's last fire.

Hands slick with red, Fletcher struggles in anguish as they find a way to make it work. It's ugly, it was always going to be, but they feel as if they could crumble away as they hold both halves of Thorn desperately in their arms. Their poor wings struggle, flight erratic and slow, leaving a thin trail of Thorn's blood - off the ship, across the sand, in the dirt...

By the time they reach their tree, there isn't much blood left for Thorn to bleed. His face has gone completely white, expression has settled into a chilling, thousand mile stare.

Is he seeing anything? Stars, the moon, the world...

Fletcher's hands shake violently as they place his legs on the lower half of their bed, then his upper half. They so gently rest his head onto their pillow before a futile attempt try nudge the two halves together. Just... Close enough. When they bring the blanket up to his shoulders, you can't tell... Then, finally, Fletcher brings two slender fingers over Thorn's eyelids, carefully bringing them down over his glazed eyes.

And now he... He's at rest. Right? He looks like he's sleeping. Very still, very peaceful... Fletcher harshly collapses back onto their legs, positioned beside the bed.

" Thorn... You can rest now, finally, you can... Say hello to her for me... "

Fletcher leans forward, burying their face into Thorn's arm. No amount of grip on Thorn's hand will ever bring anything in return.

[roseghoul26]

Cooper Howard | The Ghoul x fem!Reader

Tags: Title From A Fall Out Boy, Fame < Infamy by Fall Out Boy, Takes Place Before The Destruction of NCR, Jealousy, Someone Else Flirts With You, Derogatory Language Towards Women, Bisexual The Ghoul, Because Walton Goggins Said So, Arguments, Confessions, First Kiss, Sub Ghoul, Poor Man Is Desperate, Teasing, Edging, Oral Sex, Blowjobs, Cowgirl Position, You Wear His Hat, Light Dom/Sub, Cuddles Synopsis: After two weeks out on the job, you and The Ghoul are spending the night at a bar in Shady Shands relaxing. The Ghoul has always flirted with you, but he never meant anything by it, never did anything more, leaving you frustrated and desperately wanting the man. So when you meet someone who acts on his words, you nearly agree to spend the night with him, hoping to fill your lonely nights with another person instead of thoughts of The Ghoul. But any prospect of enjoying his company is destroyed when The Ghoul beats the man for even looking in your direction. Rightfully angry, an argument between the two of you ensues, leading to things that you only imagined would happen in your thoughts during your lonely nights.  Author’s Note: alright so normally i’m like meh about my own smut writing but i will admit i am a bit proud of this one :D Taglist: @ancientbeing10 @alex-does-art-things

The bar you were currently sitting in was dingy, seedy, and smelled like old food and piss. You didn’t even remember the name of it, too excited for the prospect of a cold drink to care, and you let The Ghoul drag you in. You were sourly disappointed when the Mr. Handy behind the counter handed you a lukewarm beer, not even a single drop of condensation on the brown bottle. 

So here you were, leaning back against a moth-eaten and weathered couch tucked in the corner, nursing a drink that just made you thirstier. He sat next to you, his legs lounged up on the low table in front of you two like he hadn’t a care in the world. You supposed that being alive for over two hundred years would do that to someone. 

The Ghoul had his own drink, a glass of whiskey, more specifically. It used to have ice in it, about ten minutes ago, but it had quickly melted, no doubt watering down the drink. Still, he continued to sip at it, his eyes roaming the crowds in the bar. Your eyes were shut, head resting against the back of the couch, catching up on some much-needed rest.

The Ghoul and you had just come back from a two-week-long excursion of the Wasteland, hunting down a group of escaped convicts from the jail in Shady Sands. Most of the time had been spent walking, searching for clues in the ending sea of sand. It had almost been impossible, but you were able to pick up a trail. It had led you to a long-since abandoned town near the shoreline of California, and after an intense firefight the two of you managed to slay them all; there was no way in hell you were escorting alive prisoners all the way back to Filly. Carrying the heads would be easier. 

And it was, except for the plethora of animals and insects it attracted, but you’d take that over the prisoners fighting you the entire time. Eventually, you and The Ghoul had made it back to Shady Sands, sweaty and covered in blood and exhausted, and dumped the heads onto the desk of the deputy. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a man pale so fast. 

After The Ghoul received the cap reward, he paid for two rooms for the both of you and some sleazy hotel, and after getting washed up he had dragged you to the bar further down the street. You hadn’t had the energy to fight him, but you almost wish you had now. You were barely staying awake, head bobbing as you forced yourself to concentrate on the chatter of patrons to keep you conscious. 

Bringing the drink up to your lips, your muscles cried out in protest, but you just ignored them. The drink itself wasn’t terrible, the flavor was almost citrusy, but it felt like sandpaper as it went down your throat. Wincing, you cleared your throat, garnering the attention of the man beside you. “Surly it ain’t that bad,” he chuckled, and you cracked an eye open at him. 

You didn’t respond, just holding out the drink for him to grab. You were sure to hold it by the neck so he had plenty of space to grab it below, but you felt him grab it in a way that made his gloved finger bush over yours. You kept your face neutral, but you certainly felt your heart react, ticking up in rhythm.

After taking a sip, a similar grimace crossed his face. If he had brows, you’re sure they would be furrowed, his lips curled up in disgust. “Even I can tell that tastes like shit,” he shook his head, forcing the drink back into your hands. There was only an inch of liquid left at the bottom, and so choosing to ignore the fact that his lips had just been on the bottle, you finished it off. 

Setting it on the table, you wiped the back of your mouth with your hand. “It’s not good, sure, but it’s better than anythin’ else I’ve had in the past weeks. “So, I,” you stood with a slight groan, “am gonna get another one.”

You didn’t get too far attempting to step around the table, his legs blocking the easiest way out. A hand grabbed your wrist, tugging you back down on the couch, very nearly toppling into him. You tried to break free, but his grip was unyielding. Not enough to hurt, no, but you were stuck. “Now, what kinda man would I be if I made a pretty thing like you get their own drink?” His words made you still, and you were grateful for the shitty lighting that hid your blush. 

Little did you know that he could see you clearly, an amused smile now on his lips. “That’s what I thought,” he murmured, and you were now able to yank your hand away, glaring harshly at him. “Now,” he lightly patted your thigh, making you jump, “stay here, sweetheart. I’ll be back before you know it.”

You were unable to resist the urge to flip him off as he walked towards the bar, before flopping against the couch with a huff. It wasn’t that you hated that he flirted with you. No, it was quite the opposite. You loved the comments and light touches, making your heart race and less-than-decent thoughts pour into your brain. But from the time the two of you had started working together, so roughly a year ago, that’s all it had been. Soft touches, empty promises, saccharine words and petnames that made you melt, but nothing more. He would always stop before it became more, his touch receding like you’d burned him, a witty remark that quelled the fire he stoked, an I’m just teasin’ ya, sweetheart. God, you hated those words specifically. 

 You wanted more, but it terrified you because you couldn’t tell if he actually meant something by his flirtations, or if he just enjoyed tormenting you. Friends were a rarity in the Wastleland, and you were screwed if you somehow managed to ruin things between you two. You’d be out of income, protection, and a genuine friend who (sometimes) had your best interest in mind.

So you bit your tongue, pretending like his words weren’t making you dizzy, that you wanted nothing more than to feel his body beneath you, to be able to feel his lips against yours. So many late-night fantasies that left you even more lonely in the morning, your knuckles bruised from where you had to bite them to keep quiet. Even though it hurt, you kept your desires close to your heart, treasuring the small things he did give you. Which, you’d come to realize, made it worse, but he had made you addicted to it. 

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t even detect someone approaching. You expected to see the familiar face of The Ghoul beside you, but you were startled to find someone else. He was a ghoul, and even though it was hard to tell you could see that he was younger, late twenties, or early thirties if you had to guess. He wore a simple blue shirt and some jeans, way too neat and hole-less than what you were used to. 

He had a beer in hand, and he used it to gesture to the spot beside you. “This spot taken?” He was the usual rasp of a ghoul, albeit a bit higher pitched than The Ghoul’s. God, you couldn’t stop yourself from comparing him to the other man. 

Speaking of him, you were able to subtly glance behind him to the bar, and you found the other man in conversation with some others. It didn’t look to be a confrontation, luckily, and you heard laughter from the group. You focused your attention on the stranger in front of you, smiling warmly at him. “Not at all,” you patted the space beside you, only barely warm still. 

As he sat beside you, setting his drink on the table, you let yourself take him in. He wasn’t unattractive, far from it. There was almost a playfulness to his features, his fully black eyes glimmering with mirth. His arm went around the couch, and you could feel the heat from it. Even though he wasn’t the man that had plagued your thoughts, you couldn’t help the way your body reacted to the stranger, breathing growing short, your cheeks darkening slightly. You were only human after all. 

“Can’t say I’ve seen you around here before, gorgeous.” He flashed his teeth, and you were pleasantly surprised to find pretty much all of them intact, and still in good condition. Another rarity of the Wastleland. 

“I’m just passing through. Just finished up some… work.” You turned yourself to face him more.

“Work, you say? Whattya do?”

“Oh, just some odd jobs here and there. Whatever makes me money.”

He chucked at that. “Can’t blame you for that. I’m Daniel, by the way.” He held a hand out for you, ungloved and bare. You shook it, giving him your name, and he repeated it back to you. It wasn’t the drawl of The Ghoul’s voice, but it was pleasant enough. 

You expect him to drop your hand, but something about them must’ve intrigued him, and you watched, quite confused, as he filled it over. His eyes ran over your fingers, especially your forefinger and thumb, before flicking back up to yours. He still didn’t drop your hand. “You use a gun a lot?” He smirked when you nodded, bewildered. “I can tell by the callouses here,” he dragged a finger along them, tickling you slightly. 

“Well, look at you,” you laughed. “What’re you, a detective?”

“Nah, nothin’ like that. Just… observant.” He flashed you another smile, completely confident in his actions. “So, you’re a bounty hunter then?”

You didn’t bother to deny his claim, knowing the expression on your face just gave you away. Thank goodness you weren’t a con artist. “Is it gonna be a problem if I say yes?” You asked cautiously, slowly retracting your hand, ready for this interaction to go bad. You let your eyes flick to The Ghoul, locating him in case you need help. He was still at the bar, talking with someone new this time, and you felt a pang of something as the man he was talking to brushed his shoulder, nothing innocent in the touch. 

“Not a problem at all,” he answered completely honestly. “Nasty business, though.”

You glanced back at Daniel, relief flooding you. You did not have the energy for a barfight tonight. “You don’t know the half of it,” you groaned. “It’s ruthless, but I enjoy it, weirdly enough. And I’m pretty good at it.”

The hand resting on the back of the couch shifted, and you felt his fingers brush over your shoulders, making you shiver slightly. I like a girl that can handle herself,” he admitted. “Strong,”  he gently squeezed the muscles in your biceps. “Confident. Powerful.” His voice turned into a whisper at the end, mouth pressed close to your ear. 

You were quite flustered now. “Well, you’re in luck then.”

“It seems I am. So, what say you, bounty hunter? Do you wanna get out of here in a bit, have some fun tonight before you head off?”

It had been a long time since you’d had someone in your bed. Since about when you started working with The Ghoul, to be exact. You’re not sure why you hadn’t in so long; it wasn’t for a lack of options. You just… couldn’t bring yourself to take someone to bed that wasn’t The Ghoul. Still, you hated waking up alone each morning, loneliness clawing at your heart. And when you’d see men and women stumble from his room, it felt like someone shot you, making you irritable with him for days to come. Maybe for once you’d have someone leaving your room, your heart content, if for a moment. Maybe you could imagine that it wasn’t Daniel, picture the other man’s features instead.

Maybe he would feel the same way you felt as he watched Daniel sneak from your room. That idea made you grin, and any hesitance about taking him to bed vanished. 

You didn’t get a chance to respond, though, before two familiar gloved hands rested on Daniel’s shoulders, making the man tense. He was forcibly pulled back from you, the force of the pull nearly making him fall off the couch. He caught himself, and you watched as he stood and faced The Ghoul. 

The shade from his hat hid most of his face, but even then you could see the hatred in his eyes as he stared down Daniel. The Ghoul was a formidable opponent, but you have to give some credit to Daniel as he squared up against him. “The hell’s your problem, man?” If the way The Ghoul had yanked Daniel hadn’t gotten the attention of the crowd, Daniel’s words surely did. Behind them, you watched a small crowd begin to form, and you wished to just let the shadows consume you. 

“She’s… off-limits,” he titled his head to the side. The action would make any sane person falter, and you watched as Daniel’s posture went rigid, fear hitting him. 

Still, Daniel didn’t let up, male pride and all that. “Maybe you should let her know, then,” he gestured angrily to you, and you shrank lower into the seat. “By the way she was lettin’ me talk to her, I can imagine the whole town’s probably had their way-”

His words, which had been so sweet moments ago, were cut off when The Ghoul grabbed him by the throat, slamming him onto the table in front of you. You jumped off the couch as splinters of wood and glass sprayed everywhere, narrowly avoiding you. Mortified, you could do nothing but watch as The Ghoul began to beat the man, blood joining in with the debris. If Daniel had a nose left, you were sure it would be pulverized. 

The Ghoul’s lips had curled up into a snarl, his eyes blazing as he leered down at the man, stopping his assault. Daniel tried to pry the other man’s hand from his throat, a choked gasp leaving him, yet that seemed to just make his grip tighter. “Gimme one reason why I shouldn’t just kill ya?” He growled, shoving Daniel’s head into the ground. He could barely garble out a reply, the words indistinguishable. 

Glass shattered on the floor as The Ghoul tossed the man into another table, another piece of furniture destroyed. As he stalked towards the downed man, he rolled over onto his hands and knees, rubbing at his throat. He was coughing and sputtering, genuine fear in his eyes as he looked up at the bounty hunter. Crouching before him, The Ghoul regarded him slowly, nothing but disgust on his features. 

“Fuck… she all yours,” Daniel managed to pant out between coughs. “Just… God, don’t kill me!”

Satisfied with his answer, The Ghoul kicked him one last time for good measure, sending him sprawling back. It was dead silent in the bar, and patrons gawked and shuffled away as The Ghoul walked to where you had been standing, only to find you gone. 

You had slipped out when he had thrown him, unable to continue watching. The streets were busy, and you kept your head down as you wove between people, heading to the hotel as quickly as you could. Too many emotions overwhelmed you, and you took a deep breath and began to collect your thoughts. 

First, you were embarrassed. 

You were embarrassed that they had been fighting over you. When you weren’t on a job, you hated creating conflict, not wanting to be the center of attention. You had plenty of that doing bounty hunting. This was supposed to be a night where you relaxed, to forget all about the horrors of the world you lived in, with or without The Ghoul, but that plan was tossed aside. 

Secondly, you were angry. 

Fuming would be a better word for it, and if you looked hard enough you could probably see the steam pouring from your ears. You were pissed that he had ruined a possibly enjoyable night with another person, ending your celibate streak. You were pissed that he felt like he could just take control of your choices like that. And you were pissed that you never got that next drink, although that was the least of your concerns at this point. 

Finally, you were confused.

Why had he reacted the way he did? It wasn’t like there was anything between you two, as much as it pained you to come to terms with it. Why did he care who you took to bed? He had taken plenty of people to bed during the time you’d worked together, and you’d never made a complaint about it. Why were you weirdly attracted to his display of… jealousy? Was it jealousy? You couldn’t even imagine what that could mean if it was. 

The sound of your name being shouted behind you forcefully tore you from your thoughts. You immediately recognized it, and you refrained from looking over at him. Ducking your head, you hoped that you blended in well with the others on the street, and you continued to briskly walk towards the hotel. 

You heard your name being called again, this time closer, and so you picked up the pace, nearly jogging at this point. You heard the sound of people crying out in alarm, and you knew that he was getting closer to you, barreling through the crowds without any thought. 

You could see the neon sign of the hotel, now lit, and you breathed out a sigh of relief. That feeling was short-lived, panic making your stomach drop when you heard The Ghoul right behind you. “Don’t make me fuckin’ tackle ya,” you heard him threaten. For a moment, you debated just ignoring him, but you knew that he didn’t make empty threats. Besides, the ground was dusty, and you’d rather not spend the rest of the night covered in sand.

Groaning, you finally halted, turning to face him with a scowl. You didn’t respond, just raising a brow and gesturing for him to ‘get on with it’. Your jaw was clenched so hard, and you could feel the headache that threatened to torment you later because of it. 

“The fuck was that about?” 

God, was he joking with you? “I should be the one asking you that! In what world was that a rational response?”

People stared as they passed, but you both just ignored them. “He was touchin’ ya.”

“And did I look even remotely disinterested? Was there any part of my body language that read that I was even the tiniest bit uncomfortable?” You laughed bitterly at the lack of response from him; you both knew what the answer was. “Why the hell do you even care if he was touching me or not?”

He was silent again, and you just scoffed, taking a few steps back. “Whatever,” you sighed in defeat, before turning and walking the remaining way to the hotel. You were almost disappointed when you didn’t hear him following behind you. 

The person behind the desk recognized you, and you were able to quickly make your way up to the second floor where your room was. You made sure to not let your eyes wander to the door where he was staying that night, a few feet down from yours on the other side of the hallway. 

When you were finally alone in your room, you resisted the urge to just scream angrily. Instead, you kicked off your shoes, which hit the walls with a loud noise, and you flopped onto your bed. Laying on your back with your arms spread, you stared at the surprisingly intact ceiling, frustrated tears stinging your eyes. Disagreements always upset you, but there was something about this one that made you feel ill, a sense of dread that you’d never felt before filled your body. 

You’re not sure how long you just lay there, calming your racing heart and your heightened emotions. It must’ve been a while, because you dozed off, the exhaustion in your body now taking control.

A light knock at the door woke you, and for a second you thought you had just imagined it. When it came again, more forceful, you sighed, knowing exactly who was on the other side of the door. Like before, you debated just ignoring him, but you didn’t want to be charged for the destruction of more property. “What?” You snapped out, still not in the mood to talk to him yet. 

“We need to talk.” The Ghoul responded, sounding less irritated than you. 

“Yeah, no shit.” I gave you plenty of time to explain yourself downstairs. 

You could hear him sigh through the thin wood door. “Sweetheart.” You hated that he knew how to get you to do whatever you wanted. You couldn’t even stop yourself as you sat up and made your way to the door. With no hesitation you opened it, his endearment almost putting you under a spell.

It was dissipated when you saw him, those emotions flooding your mind instead. The door was only open a crack, your body filling it as you glared at the other man. “Yes?

“Let me talk to ya,” he sighed in frustration. 

“You are.” You couldn’t care less that you were being stubborn and difficult. He deserved it.

His jaw clenched. “Inside.”

You didn’t respond, mulling over his words as you stared at him, fire never once leaving your eyes. Finally, you relented, against your better judgment. Stepping back, you left the door open, leaning up against one of the dressers with your arms crossed. You watched as he entered, the door clicking shut in finality, looking like he expected to be attacked by you at any second. You were almost proud to instill that level of fear in him.

He kept a respectful distance away from you, loitering near the foot of the bed. “Look, I’m… sorry.” He said the words like they were brand new. 

He left it at that, and you scoffed. You knew that you should just accept his apology and move on. You knew that you shouldn’t instigate something, to purposely start an argument with your traveling partner. But you were still too damn angry to care. You needed him to know what you felt.

“‘Sorry’? I get nothing more than that?”

“What’dya want from me then, sweetheart?” He growled, your anger rubbing off on him. “You want me to get down on my fuckin’ knees, plead for your forgiveness? You want me to promise I ain’t ever gonna do it again, even though it’ll be a damn lie? What the fuck do you want from me?” He spat the last sentence out, emphasizing each word.

The image of him on his knees before you flashed in your mind, and you had to admit it did seem appealing. But not now. 

He was getting closer to you now. Slow, methodical steps, but he was closer, and continuing. “I want an explanation.”

You might’ve as well just slapped him, the way he halted in his tracks, stunned. Words seemed to evade him, and the anger that had just been rolling off him in waves subsided, still there yet not as strong. It should’ve had the opposite effect, but your rage was growing, threatening to burst. “Oh, so now you can’t talk? It’s a simple request!”

“It’s really fuckin’ not.”

“Why?” Silence. “You’ve got two options here. You either suck it up and tell me, or you get the hell out of here. It’s your choice.”

You could tell that he hated the choice you gave him, but you didn’t care. You expected to watch him turn and storm out the door, leaving your relationship in tatters on the dirty hotel floor. So you were surprised when he took a deep breath and remained where he was. “I hated that he was touchin’ you."

“So you were jealous?” You ignored the way you were elated when he nodded, albeit with some hesitancy. The anger subsided, and you felt pure want take its place. “You wanted to be him,” you whispered, taking a step towards him. Your confidence grew at how hungrily he watched you. 

“You wanted to be the one whispering those words, to be running their fingers on my body.” Another step. “You wanted to be the one to take me to bed, to feel me, to fuck me.” You were finally close enough to him that you could touch him if you wish, but you kept your hands by your sides.

The Ghoul groaned at your words, and you couldn’t help the small smirk on your face at his reaction. “Do you want that?” You asked, needed to hear confirmation. 

It came almost immediately. “Fuck, yes.” His own hands reached out to touch you, but you swatted them away. That snapped him out of his semi-trance, his eyes flashing with confusion.

“You don’t get to touch me yet.”

 Something new flashed in his eyes instead, something you couldn’t quite name. “Sweetheart-”

“Sit down.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but you just shot him a look, silencing him instantly. The bed groaned as he sat on the edge of it, eyes never leaving yours. It made him stand a head lower than you now, and he had to look up to continue holding your gaze. “How does it feel? To watch someone else get the things you want?”

You didn’t give him a chance to respond. “It hurts, doesn’t it? It feels like someone’s stabbed you in the heart, no? So,” you moved between his legs, “how do you think I felt? After you flirt with me, then take someone else to bed. After you touch me, toy with me, but then act like my body disgusts you, and you recoil away. After you say those things that leave me shaking and wanting, but then never act of them.” 

Your hands grabbed the lapels of his jacket, and you brought your face close to his. “I’ve seen you take countless lovers to bed during the time we’ve worked together, and I never said a peep. Even though it fucking killed me to see. That man in the bar, the one you beat senseless? That was gonna be the first person that’d occupied my bed in almost a year. And no, I didn’t really want him that badly, but maybe I could finally go to bed for one night and not have my thoughts be entirely of you.”

Shoving his back lightly, you stumbled back a few steps, the confession that had just spilled from your lips making you breathless. “I have to know; did you mean it? All the flirting, the touches, everything. Did you mean it?”

For once, The Ghoul kept any remarks to himself, and sheer honesty was written across his face. There before you, you saw a vulnerable man, gazing up at you like you hung the stars. “I did. I do.”

“Do you want me?” Cautiously, you began to move back towards him.

“Every fuckin’ minute.”

When you were back between his legs, you let your hands rest on the lapels, no longer strangling the poor material. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

A hopeful smile graced his lips, his eyes flicking down to your lips which hovered above him. After nodding lightly, you let yourself move closer until your lips just brushed over his, barely making contact. “A shame, then.” You pulled away before they could fully connect, a victorious smile on your face as you looked down at the confused man.

“Oh, you thought you’d be getting what you wanted tonight? You ran your hands up, resting on the sides of his neck now. You could feel his heart hammering. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re not. No, tonight you’re gonna feel as desperate as I’ve felt for the past year. And,” you made sure that he was especially paying attention to your words now, “if you think that at any point tonight you’re gonna have control, you’re wrong. Any objections?”

His eyes had blown out during your little speech, small pants leaving his lips as he stared up at you. He was already so eager, and you’d barely done anything yet. Even still, you saw a flicker of uncertainty, and you realized he’d probably never given up control in the bedroom. You let the facade drop for a moment. “I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. Not ever. You just gotta let me know, and we’ll stop immediately.”

Any uncertainty left him, and something warmed in your chest at the fact that he trusted you enough to do something like this. “You ready?”

He nodded, and you shook your head. “I need to hear you say it, baby.”

You watched his throat bob as he swallowed, not expecting the name from you. “I’m ready.”

“Good.” You rewarded him with a soft kiss on the cheek before grabbing his hat off his head. “Go get comfortable on the bed.” 

Stepping away from him, you set his hat on the nightstand as he got situated, his now bare head resting on the pillows. Making sure he had returned his attention to you, you heard his gasp when you grabbed the hem of your shirt, turning into an appreciative groan when you tore it off your head. You wore a simple black bra beneath, but you might as well have been wearing the most beautiful piece of lingerie with the way his eyes widened, a smile on his face again. You made quick work of your jeans, and you refrained from shivering as the air hit your now-exposed skin, clad in only your undergarments. But how could you be cold when he was looking at you with such heat in his eyes?

The bed creaked again when you got on it, and you adjusted until you straddled his abdomen. His clothing dug into your skin, but you could hardly feel it. Planting your hands on his chest, you leaned forward until your face was only an inch from his. He watched you with hooded eyes, which fluttered close when your lips pressed against his jaw, moving up until you stopped right below his ear. 

Gloved hands rested on your bare waist, and as much as you enjoyed feeling his hands on your body, you couldn’t let up that easily. “Did I say you could touch me yet?” You whispered, and you felt him slowly rescind his touch, now resting on the bedsheets beside him. “Good job,” you praised, and you felt him shudder slightly. Interesting. “If you behave, I might just let you touch me,” you offered, like dangling a piece of food in front of a starving animal. 

“Yeah?” 

You just smiled against his skin. 

Continuing your exploration, you moved inward, barely feeling the ridges of the indents of his skin. Moving up his cheek, to across where his nose would be, then to the other cheek, you littered his face with kisses, purposely avoiding his lips. His eyes continued to flutter open and close, and at this proximity, you were able to see short, brown eyelashes. How… peculiar. And cute. 

You didn’t make any comment on them, choosing to move back down again. But you went past his jaw this time, down to his neck, and you felt his head roll back to allow you more room. You felt him jump when you sunk your teeth into the skin before moaning beautifully, and you ran over the hurt with your tongue. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as his hands instinctively went up to touch you, then resting back down on the bed, grabbing at the bedsheets instead. 

There wasn’t much exposed skin left when you reached where his neck and shoulders met, his shirt now covering it. Leaning back, you gestured for him to sit up, helping ease the jacket off his shoulders when he did. He pulled his arms out, and it pooled around his waist, still sitting on most of it. You didn’t care, as long as you could get his get his shirt off.

You hesitated a second before beginning to fiddle with the buttons, glancing up into his eyes. “Alright?” 

“You don’t gotta keep askin’, sweetheart,” he responded breathlessly. “I’ll let you know if I don’t want somethin’.”

You grinned at him, before quickly getting to work and taking off his button-up shirt. With every inch of his body that was revealed to you, you felt your heart accelerate, excitement bubbling in you. He had just gotten his arms out of the garment and had tossed it to the floor before you were forcing him back down on the bed with hands on his chest, loving how easily he complied. 

You let your fingers drag down the front of his chest, nails scratching lightly. Even with the thick scarring covering his body, he was still able to feel it, and he shivered. Your breath caught when you finally looked for yourself, instead of letting your touch see for you. To say he was gorgeous would be an understatement. All lean muscle, you could feel them flex and jump when you touched him, and for a moment you remembered how strong this man was. And here he was, submitting to your every request. You really did try to not let it go to your head. 

“You’re so beautiful, Cooper.” You hadn’t even realized you’d let his real name slip until he went deathly still beneath you. Glancing up at him, you couldn’t read the expression on his face, and you thought you went too far. Still, he had yet to say anything, and so you kept your mouth shut. You trusted that he would stop you.

Continuing to touch him, you barely heard the soft plea that he uttered. “Say it again.” 

The expression clicked now, and you smiled gently at him. You felt truly happy, knowing there was another thing he trusted you with. “Cooper,” you sighed, and you were startled when you felt his hands grasp at you, desperately trying to pull you towards him. You braced on his chest, stopping him, and you glanced at where his hands now rested until he tore them away. You made a disapproving noise as you leaned back down, teasing him by brushing your lips against his. But with the way you were sitting and the way you pressed down on his chest, he couldn’t meet you, and you heard him make a frustrated noise.

“Do I gotta tie your hands up, Cooper?” You semi-joked, gauging his reaction. When his eyes somehow darkened even more, you knew he was down. 

You both knew that he could easily “break free” from the restraints you’d placed on him; he had ghoul strength, and you were just a human. But he continued to play into your game, and you were grateful for it. You were having too much fun. 

“If ya keep sayin’ my name like that, then ya might have to.” 

“Oh, you’re too good to me, baby,” you praised, hands retracting so you could reach behind you. You smirked at his reaction when you tugged at his belt, being sure to purposely graze over the evident strain in his pants. You gave him the most innocent look you could when he glared at you, returning your touch to his belt. It took a bit of maneuvering, and with some help from him raising his hips, you were able to free it.

The headboard was made from metal bars, so you were easily able to secure his wrists to it. The restraint wasn’t tight, tight enough to keep him in place, but if he severely needed to leave then he could easily escape. When you sat back, you admired the sight before you. Your wildest dreams were playing out right in front of you, and you couldn’t be more excited.t

Starting at the base of his throat, you began to move down his body, pressing your lips against the skin as you descended. When you reached his nipples, you let your tongue flick over it, eliciting a whine from him. Your fingers toyed with the other one, making him squirm. You couldn’t deny that the noises he was making were making you dizzy, a familiar tension building in you. But you kept an amused and unaffected expression on your face, not wanting to break yet. 

You didn’t stay there for long, continuing your descent downwards. You scratched lightly over his abs when you reached them, and you figured goosebumps would be covering his body by now.

 “I could just leave you like this, you know,” you commented as you moved backward. “Hands bound, aching, wanting.” Your hands trailed down his thighs. 

“You wouldn’t,” he groaned, and you just flashed a smile at him.

“Oh, but I could.” You now rested just below his thighs, your own straddling them. “I could just sit here and make you watch as I touch myself, make myself cum, screaming your name.” You heard the belt rattle against the bedframe when you let one of your hands trail down your stomach, a gasp leaving you when you reached the band of your underwear. “Then leave you alone with just your thoughts, imagining all the things you could’ve done to me. Just how I spent every night this past year. Revenge is a bitch, isn’t it?”

“Sweetheart, please.” You don’t think you’ve ever heard something so wonderful, arousal spiking in your body. His eyes bore into you as you reached behind you, unclasping your bra. You let it slide off your body before setting it gently on the floor. Squeezing your breasts in your hands, you let your head roll back, his name tumbling from you. You debated moaning the other man’s name, the one in the bar, but you couldn’t remember it. Besides, you were torturing the man enough, and you assumed that he would tear through his bindings if you did. 

Eventually, you took pity on him, and your desire was starting to get in the way of your need to draw this out. He jumped when you rested your hands on his thighs, expecting you to do what you said, and you could feel the relief it brought him.

It didn’t take long for you to unbutton his pants, even less to unzip them. You tugged both them and his boxers down enough to free him. He was already rock hard, almost painfully so, and a strangled groan left him. The noise shot straight to your core, and you sighed in appreciation at him. He was long, not overwhelmingly so, but you knew you’d be feeling him for days to come. 

Keeping your eyes on him, you leaned forward and lapped at the tip, licking the bead of moisture there. You watched as he tried to move to touch you, and you grinned at him when the restraint stopped him. You could see the plea in his eyes, and you just shook your head at him. Not yet. 

Another run of your tongue made him curse, and you cooed at him. “Want me to take care of this, baby?”

“Please,” he gasped out.

“Well, when you ask that nicely.”

He didn’t get a chance to prepare before you were running your tongue along his entire length, base to tip, before taking as much of him as you could in your mouth. You took what you couldn’t fit in your hand, moving in tandem with your mouth as you sucked him. It was nearly unintelligible, but you heard your name being moaned by him. 

Bobbing your head up and down, you were unrelenting in the pleasure you were giving him, and you could feel his hips begin to buck and twist, and you moved your mouth off him before he could hit the back of your throat. 

Glancing up at him, he looked absolutely wrecked, and the fact made you smile cruelly. You could tell that he was close, by the way he pulsed and throbbed in your hand as you continued to stroke him. Your name was just streaming from him freely, straining and pressing against the belt. The bedpost made an awful noise, but it was covered by his noises. “You close, Cooper?”

His head had been thrown back against the pillows as pleasure coursed through him, but you watched as he flicked his gaze down to you. “Fuck, sweetheart, yes.” You hadn’t meant to, but you let it slip through in your expression what you were planning, and dread washed over his face. He groaned you name, almost in warning, but you ignored him. 

To his very evident displeasure, you let go of him, his incoming release ebbing away as you sat up. A string of curses left him, and a drop of sweat rolled down his face. His eyes were blazing with lust and anger, but they melted a bit when regarding you. At least the anger did. The lust seemed to just flare up, especially when he as you stood to slip off your underwear. “You only get to cum when I do, got it?”

He was able to see the evidence of your arousal on them as you discarded them, and even in the position he was in a cocky smile grew on his face. “Perfectly.” That cocky smile was wiped off when he saw you reach for his hat, putting it on your head as you climbed back onto the bed. As you straddled his lap, realization flashed on his features. “Are you tryin’ to fuckin’ kill me?” He wheezed, a mix of laughter and a groan. 

“I’m surprised I haven’t already,” you teased back, your hands bracing on his chest. Just like you thought, his heart pounded against your fingertips. Rocking your hips slowly, you began to rut against him, coating him in your arousal. 

You heard the tell-tale clink of his belt rattling against the bedframe. “Can I touch ya now, sweetheart?” He gasped out.

You seriously considered it for a moment, but you decided against it. “When you make me cum, you can. But if you finish before me…” You let the words trail off, the threat evident enough.

He looked like he wanted to argue, but he held his tongue, knowing that it would get him further away from what he wanted. You grinned at his compliance, rewarding him by getting on your knees and lining him up with your entrance. Sinking onto him, a gasp tore from you as he pressed into you. It had been so long since you’d been stretched like this, and it felt even better than you remembered. Or maybe it was because it was with him. 

His grip was vice-like against the metal bars as you slowly sank down on his cock, almost painful-sounding grunts and moans leaving him. It was a slow process, but eventually, you felt your hips go flush with his. “Oh, Cooper, baby,” you groaned, and you felt him twitch inside of you.

“You… you can’t say shit like that and then expect me to last,” he whined, and you laughed gently. 

“You need a moment?” You refrained from adding ‘baby’ to the end, knowing he was about to snap. 

A shaky exhale left him. “Just… just a moment.”

You hummed in response, letting yourself sit there for a moment. It felt like torture, wanting nothing more than to ride him, but you held back. You tried to not move too much, either, and you eventually felt his breathing calm some. It was still sporadic, but not as much as before. 

“Go ‘head now.” You didn’t have to be told twice. 

Starting with a slow roll of your hips, you began to move up and down. One hand was planted on his chest, the other on his hat to keep in on your head as it rolled back. It only took a few moments for you to fall into a rhythm, the slow movements gradually building to something faster. 

“Cooper, fuck, you feel so good,” you moaned, and you heard him make some noise in agreeance. Another roll of your hips made you see stars, and you could feel that familiar tension begin to build, slowly but surely. 

“What a sight you are,” he murmured between breaths, and you looked down to see him staring at you, almost mesmerized. “Wearin’ my hat while ya fuck yourself on my cock. Fuck, a man could die happy like this.”

You tried to grin down at him, but the pleasure became too much as you continued to rock, and you felt yourself falter. Instead, you just moaned out fragments of his name. He was all you could feel, pressing into spots that made you cry out, hitting them with each roll. “Baby.”

God, you loved the way he reacted whenever you uttered that name. His hips jumped, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. The hand planted on his chest dug into the toughened skin, nails no doubt leaving indents, but he didn’t seem to mind. Even though your legs were beginning to shake, you didn’t let up, moving up and down, your breathing becoming labored. You could feel yourself getting closer; you just needed a little more.

After angling your body to keep it steady, you let go of his hat, moving your hands to between your legs. It made you groan, feeling the way his cock moved in and out of you as you began to rub at your clit. The extra stimulation made you cry his name out loudly, and you knew there would be complaints from the other patrons of the hotel.

Your walls tightened around him, making him bite down harshly on his bottom lip to keep from cumming right there. His eyes flicked downward, his mouth going slack as he watched you touch yourself. He forced himself to look away, blown-out eyes staring into yours. You could see the tendons in his neck strain as he concentrated on controlling his release. 

The extra pleasure was what you needed, and you could feel your impending release inch closer. “You close, sweetheart?” His voice was hoarse, and you nodded furiously. “You gonna cum on my cock? Fuck, yeah you are.”

“Cooper, you can…” Your words were cut off with a whine. 

He seemed to get what you were saying, and he groaned in relief. “Can I finish in ya, sweetheart? Fill up that perfect cunt?”

“Please.” For the first time during the night, you pleaded for something. You were on the verge of release, your movements growing frantic as you chased your release.

“C’mon, sweetheart, lemme feel ya.” 

As you cried out his name again, you came, your body going slack as pleasure made you boneless. It wasn’t your first orgasm in a year, far from it, but it felt so much better when it came from another person. Your nerves hummed and you felt weightless, soft whines and pants leaving you. 

You barely managed to catch yourself before you fell on top of him, and the clench of you around him was all he needed for his own release, having staved it off for a long time now. He was even louder than you were, your name coming out like a sharp bark as he came, and you could feel his release seep into you, coating you. 

The room felt awfully quiet now, even though it was filled with the sound of both of you catching your breaths. With unstable legs, you lifted yourself up and off of him, and you watched as his spend dripped out of you and onto his abdomen. Groans both left you at this sight. 

You had been so caught up in the sight that it nearly startled you when you heard the clinking noise again. Glancing up at him, he gave you an expectant look, an almost teasing smirk on his face as he rattled the belt again. “You gonna release me? I’ve been good.” You scoffed at the way he pouted at you.

“You have been,” you agreed. “My good boy,” you added as you reached for the belt. His eyes widened, sucking in a gasp, and if could, he would be blushing. 

You just smirked down at him as you released him, but that victory was short-lived when you felt his hands immediately shoot to your body. He practically yanked you down to his mouth, desperately claiming your lips in a messy kiss. His hands roamed over every part of your body, the rough skin making you whine in pleasure, and you could feel his responding smile. 

As much as you were loving his attention, you had to admit you were incredibly exhausted, especially now. A yawn tore through you, interrupting the kiss, and you pulled back. “Am I borin’ you, sweetheart?” He asked, amused.

“You could never. But I don’t think I can do all that again,” you laughed breathlessly. 

“There’s always tomorrow,” he smirked. “And the next day. And the next.”

You slapped lightly at his chest, chuckling. “Eager, are we?”

“Desperately,” he growled lightly before pulling you back to his lips. This kiss was gentler, although no less passionate. He laughed boisterously when you pulled away to yawn again, fingers halting their exploration. 

When you tried to pull away, though, he didn’t let go, keeping your body close. “Baby, I need to get us cleaned up,” you laughed, trying and failing to escape his hold. “I’m not going to bed covered in…” You trailed off, too embarrassed to finish the sentence. You tried to wiggle free, and you sighed in defeat when he didn’t let go. 

“You’re blushin’,” he teased, making your ears burn more. “You were spewin’ those filthy things earlier without a second thought, but now you’re actin’ all shy?”

“I hate you,” you grumbled.

“Sure ya do, sweetheart,” he chuckled. “How ‘bout this? You finish what you were ‘bout to say, and I’ll let ya go. For a minute or two, that is.”

You sighed again. “I was saying that I’m not going to bed covered in your cum,” you said with major hesitancy, your ears on fire. 

“Why not?”

You slapped his chest again. “I did what you asked. Let me go, Cooper.”

He debated it for a moment. “Fine,” you felt his hand let up its hold, “but if you ain’t back in a minute, I’m draggin’ ya back to the bed.”

Now on a timer, you quickly got off his lap, not before pressing one last kiss to his cheek. On shaky legs, you made your way to the bathroom, flipping him off when he laughed at your inability to walk in a straight line. After using the bathroom, you used one of the provided washrags, dampening it before running it between your legs, and cleaning you up. Grabbing a new one, you dampened it as well before heading back to the bathroom.

He was now sitting on the edge of the bed, the rest of his clothing discarded on the floor, and he looked up when he saw you enter. “Thought I was ‘bout to drag you back,” he commented as you approached him, grinning when he saw your unabashed staring. “Like what ya see?”

You wiped that proud expression off when the cold washcloth made contact with his skin, and you quickly wiped him down. He hissed when it ran over his cock, and you muttered a small apology. You tried to move back to the bathroom to discard the cloth, but you felt him wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you back towards him. You felt him kiss the back of your neck, and you felt him yank the cloth from your hand, tossing it vaguely in the direction of the bathroom. 

He pulled you back onto the bed, adjusting the covers so that they covered you both, the one arm never leaving your waist, his face burrowed into your neck. Out of all the things you expected him to be, a cuddler was not one of them. But you certainly weren’t complaining.

Because of the heat of him behind you, and the exertion of the day's activities, you felt exhaustion take over you again, and your eyes fluttered close. “You still owe me anther drink,” you heard yourself mutter. 

The rumble of his chest from his laughter was the last thing you remembered before you fell asleep. 

Author’s Note: i stole the hat thing from one of my other fics, but i love it so much that i needed to use it again. also might write a continuation/pt.2 to this, idk yet.

also thank you @kinatanhi yet again for the comment that helped inspire all this <3

[eelnoise]

Hey I love your writing! Any chance you’d be willing to do a Sanji and Zoro threesome where they get all competitive about sharing you but maybe they end up making out a lil as well? 😍😍😍 pleasepleaseplease

OMG!!!! the way I had to dash to my pc and write this???!!!! (well, half it. may or may not have finished it during my workout on my phone so pls ignore any formatting issues!! 🙃🙃)

thank you so much for the request, i loved writing it! i hope it helps with your day, too!

emmêlé

zoro x sanji x reader

cw: threesome, double penetration, semi-public sex, praise, degradation, biting, slight zosan

You’re lost in a daze. What started as a late evening in the kitchen with Zoro and a couple of glasses of wine had turned into something else entirely. Sanji, who was cleaning up after dinner, had gotten into it with Zoro, starting with some sort of comment about not liking the way he manhandles you around on his lap.

“Shut up,” Zoro spits in an annoyed huff. “She loves it, don’t you baby?”

“Even if she does, you should be more gentle with her.” Sanji snaps back, pointing angrily at Zoro.

“She’s not fragile, cook.” Sanji’s title rolls from the swordsman’s lips like a threat - low, cold, and full of irritation.

The men speak as if you aren’t there, and before you know it, you’re sandwiched between them in the middle of the kitchen.

Zoro holds you in the air between them with ease, his large and calloused hands tucked under your knees and spreading your thighs wide open as he pounds into your ass - stretching you out in a way that makes your toes curl while Sanji’s nimble fingers hold onto your waist, slowly thrusting into your pussy and moaning low into your ear.

Both of them have their own pace; Zoro’s rough and forceful, the sound of his thighs hitting your ass echoing around the room loudly. Sanji takes his time, wanting to feel each inch of your pretty pussy around him and to really enjoy you.

“Mon amour,” Sanji purrs into your ear as you rest your head on his shoulder, languishing moans and cries of ecstasy warming the crook of his neck. “Si charmant, si bon~” Fuck, you love when he speaks French, especially like this. His words are like candy - sweet and delicious and all for you.

Zoro, in comparison, is much more quiet. His forehead rests on the back of your neck, heavy grunts and groans of his own pleasure almost inaudible amidst yours and Sanji’s - the latter’s constant whimpering and murmurs in his native tongue quickly getting on Zoro’s nerves. He wants to hear you, needs to hear just how fucking good you sound stuffed and filled like this. 

Sanji is denying him that.

“Fuck,” Zoro growls, moving his head to look at the culprit of his discontent. “You’re too god damn loud, cook.” His brow furrows, but his brutal pace doesn’t let up - if anything it speeds up. Zoro’s grip on your legs tightens, instinctively pulling you closer to his chest in a possessive manner. He ignores your sobs, still staring intently at Sanji with an air of annoyance.

“A gentleman- ah!” Sanji’s words are cut short by a long and filthy moan from the way your pussy flutters around his cock. His eyes close for a moment as he picks up his pace, fucking you closer to the rate that Zoro is. Once his eyes snap back open, he meets Zoro’s glare with one of his own. “A gentleman always indulges on a meal so freely given.”

Zoro clicks his teeth in irritation, his gaze turning to your pathetic and limp form between them. “At least we both know who makes you feel the best, right princess?” He rumbles into your ear, his deep voice sending sparks flying through your veins. Zoro chuckles darkly and bites down on your shoulder with enough force to make you cry out. “And who makes you scream their name.” 

“Sex is more than just primal lust, moss-head.” Sanji spits out, the hands around your waist digging into your plush skin. “Do you believe him?” He asks you, voice noticeably softening when he sees your fucked-out and glazed-over expression. “Sounds to me like he doesn’t know how to really appreciate you, sweetheart.” 

Words have long left you, reduced to nothing but weak and hoarse moans and attempts at vocalization. Unable to answer, the two continue to absolutely ruin you. Both of your arms are wrapped around Sanji’s shoulders, holding onto him tightly and clawing at the flesh of his back. 

“She loves being treated like a slut.” Zoro says, snapping up into you hard for a few moments. You tighten around the two cocks in you at his words, unable to hold back an absolutely salacious yelp. “See? Fuckin’ lives for it.”

Sanji shakes his head, one of his hands coming to the back of your head and petting your hair gently.  His touch is soothing, and you hum into it with a weak smile - a quick moment of peace. He smirks smugly at Zoro, as if having proved a point. 

Your breathing grows heavier still, and with a series of grunts and whines you know you're on the precipice of pleasure. "S-shut up and don't s-stop!" You manage to whisper out in a huff. 

Sanji's moans escalate in tandem with yours. He loves how you feel around him and just knowing that he's playing a part in pushing you over the edge makes his cock throb wildly inside you. "Ma chérie, you sound heavenly." He murmurs, continuing to drip words of praise in both languages for you.

Zoro isn't having any of this. Sanji has to shut the fuck up if he's to hear you cum. He doesn't care how much you like it, even if the soft affection is pushing you further into your release. You tumble over into euphoria with a shout, nails slicing into Sanji's skin and lulling your head backward onto Zoro's shoulder. 

As the pleasure floods you, Zoro's at his wit's end with just how loud the cook is. He props one leg up onto a chair and releases his grip on your left thigh, letting it fall to his own to keep you as steady as possible to ride out your high before grabbing the back of Sanji's head forcefully and bringing him closer. "Shut the fuck up and let her sing, cook." He growls and shuts him up the only way he knows how to at this moment - by harshly pressing his lips to Sanji's. 

Sanji's eyes widen, and he wants to pull away but can't bring himself to. Zoro's kiss is rough and it's full of teeth and tongue, and that combined with how fucking good you're squeezing his cock - he cums. His moans are muffled by the lip lock, but the way he's spilling into you endlessly indicates just how much the act has subdued him, mind, body, and soul. 

You take the opportunity to kiss along Sanji's jawline, each mumbled whimper and whine from the man above you makes you giggle. It's cute to see him melt, and you never get tired of it. 

Zoro breaks the kiss with a smirk. "Now," he growls, turning his attention back to you. "Back to filling you the fuck up."

[mostlymarvelsstuff]

Reunion

Summary: A short sequel to 5 Times Natasha Came to Rescue Y/n, plus the 1 Time She Didn't Arrive In Time

Authors note: Someone on Wattpad really wanted this and it inspired me to get some writing done for once lol. So here is a small drabble

Word Count: 809

Natasha Masterlist Marvel Masterlist

    Natasha wakes with a jolt and finds herself laying in some grass looking up at the outstretched branches of a nearby tree. This causes her brows to crease as confusion settles in. She's not sure why or how, but she knows this isn’t right. This isn’t where she's supposed to be.

   She sits up to further take in her surroundings and is shocked to see nothing but rolling hills and bright blue skies. The sound of moving water nearby has her shifting her gaze to find a stream. The sight of the water has her realizing just how dry her mouth is so not knowing what else to do, she figures she might as well quench her thirst.

   As she sits up she's struck by just how sore her entire body is. It feels like she's done every exercise in the Shield training manual before sparring a few rounds with Steve. She shakes off this feeling though and trudges forward towards the stream. As she settles on her knees in front of it she notices just how clear it is, and as she dips her hands in they are met with a coldness that only comes from mountain water. 

   She cups them together and eagerly brings them to her lips, letting the refreshing liquid make its way down her parched throat. She takes a few more sips before rising to her feet again, and she looks around once more. What had she been doing to end up here? There was a mission, wasn't there? No. No that wasn’t right, it wasn’t a mere mission. What she was on was so much more than that and was incredibly important. 

   Suddenly a sharp pain makes its way up her spine that nearly takes her to her knees, and the back of her head throbs with such an intensity that she cries out. She braces the back of her head with her hands and grits her teeth as she tries to figure out what's going on. And as the sun catches on the arrow necklace that dangles from her neck, it all comes rushing back. 

   She had been with Clint on a planet called Vormir. A sacrifice was required to gain the soul stone, and she hadn’t let him be the one to jump. She remembers he had tried to save her though, but she hadn’t let that stop her. She had fallen. Which means…she had died. She swallows harshly as she looks around once more. Did that mean…was this the afterlife? 

   She's almost certain that it was, but she can’t ponder on it too long as the sound of footsteps gains her attention. She's not sure who or what she had been expecting, but the person she sees walking towards her exceeds all expectations, and she can already feel warm tears dripping down her cheeks.

   “Y/n!!” she shouts as she runs straight at you, she practically throws herself into your arms and her embrace has enough force behind it that you both go tumbling into the grass below. The feeling of your arms around her once more after so many years has a sob escaping her, and her hold on you tightens as she buries her face in the crook of your neck, “After I lost you, I was lost too. Everyone wanted me to try to move on, but I just couldn’t detka(baby), and I didn't want to either. You were, and still are my everything. I love you so much.”

  But she didn’t have to say any of that, the pair of wedding rings you’d seen dangling from the same chain as Clint's arrow charm had already told you that. You turn slightly to nuzzle your cheek against hers, “I love you too, Tasha. And while I missed you more than I could ever describe, I would have waited even longer for you”

   “I’m sorry” she mumbles, not wanting you to be upset with her 

   “Don’t apologize Natasha, please.” you assure her, “You were so strong, my love. And so brave. What you did…you saved the world”

    She moves her head back enough to look at you properly though her vision is still blurred by tears, “It worked, then?”

   You nod as your hands move to cup her face, “You did it baby, everyone's home now”

   She lets out a tearful relieved chuckle and smiles at you so softly that you can no longer hold back. Without a second thought you bring your lips to meet hers for a kiss that you waited years for, and Nat, who thought she’d never get to experience this again practically melts against you. And she knows then the truth of your words, because not only was half the universe returned home but she was as well. You were her home, and had been the moment she realized she loved you.

Taglist:@wandaromamoff69 @mmmmokdok @nataliasknife @natashasilverfox @when-wolves-howl @danveration @naomi-m3ndez @sheneonromanoff @sayah13 @likefirenrain @nighttime-dreaming @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @readings-stuff @chaoticevilbakugo @crystalstark02 @wackymcstupid @xchaiix @iaminluvwithnat @lovelyy-moonlight @blackwidow-3 @mistressofinsomnia @that-one-gay-mosquito @yomamagf @yourfavdummy @justarandomreaderxoxo @scoutlp23-blog @whoischanelle15 @lissaaaa145 @eline03 @wizardofstories @imthenatynat @marvelonmymind @fluffyblanketgecko @bitch-616 @dakotastormm  @zoomdeathknight @rayeofmoonlight @aeroae @sashawalker2

[vivwritesfics]

Fire Is The Devil's Only Friend

Chapter Two

There was no such thing as making it on your own with a high profile boyfriend. That was why she kept her relationship a secret. But then after a PR fuck up, her boyfriend is forced into PR relationship and she's left on the side lines, missing him

1.1K

Series Masterlist

"Have you saved your work yet?"

Carlos knew better than anyone how hard she was working. Between writing her next book, using social media to market, and answering emails from her editor, she as flat out. He was incredibly worried about her.

She looked up at him for just a second before saving her work. The moment she did, Carlos pushed the lid of her laptop closed. "Carlos!" She cried. She went to open the laptop again, but Carlos pulled it from the table.

"One hour, mi amor. Give me on hour, and then I've give you your laptop back."

She thought on it. "You promise just an hour?"

"I promise," he said as he stepped towards her, the laptop against his chest. "We can go and get coffee together." He leaned down and pecked her lips.

She pouted as he pulled away. "You're too good to me."

"Because I just love you so much," he said and kissed her again.

***

The story of Carlos Sainz's relationship with Rebecca Donaldson broke in the early hours of the next morning. Neither of them were aware.

Carlos didn't check his phone when he woke up. He went on a run in the early hours of the morning and spent a few hours working out, like he did every day, all while she slept.

When he got back, she was still sleeping. Carlos made two coffees and brought them to the bedroom. Placing them down onto their bedside tables, Carlos leaned over and kissed his head. "Wake up, mi corazón," he said softly.

She stirred awake and glared at her husband. "It's so early," she groaned, pressing her face further into the pillow.

His laugh echoed around their bedroom. "It's not that early, my love. I got you coffee, drink up."

They had just a few hours together before she was having an online meeting with her publishers in her office and Carlos was meeting with the team at Ferrari.

He opened his laptop and logged into the call. He was rarely in a bad mood these days, the team at Ferrari noted. It was a surprise to all of them, especially after the story they had sold to the media that morning. "Carlos, I'm sure you've heard the news."

The smile dropped from Carlos's face, replaced by a frown. "What news?" He asked. He hadn't yet been on any social media, had seen none of the news articles flash up on his phone.

"We made a decision here at Maranello, one we felt would benefit the entire team," somebody else said. "After some recent events, all of which were out of our control, we thought it best to give the media something more digestible. To do so, it was leaked to the press that you were potentially romantically linked to Rebecca Donaldson, the Scottish Model."

All expression dropped from Carlos's face. He turned on his phone and, for the first time, saw the news. The news about him.

The photo of himself with Rebecca Donaldson wasn't obviously photoshopped, but there was no other explanation. There he was, in a picture with a woman he had never met.

"See, the things is, Carlos, what else are we supposed to do? Do you want Ferrari to crumble?"

No, obviously he didn't want that. "But what about the relationships of mine this does affect?" He asked quickly, pulling open his desk drawer and pulling out the ring box. He didn't display it on camera, fiddled with it in his lap. "What if I was in a relationship and I hadn't yet told anyone?"

"You don't want to lose your seat, do you?" It was a dirty ploy, but the Ferrari team was desperate. "You're almost thirty, you have a limited number of wins under your belt and no championships. Will any other team want you?"

Carlos's heart pounded in his chest. "So, I have to go on with this fake relationship and I'll get to keep my seat?"

"Exactly."

He sucked in a deep breath. Just a wall separated him from the love of his life, but here he was, ready to betray her. All for his seat. "What will I have to do?"

The rest of the meeting was spent with the Ferrari team telling Carlos exactly what they wanted from him. Be seen with her at races, have her in the Ferrari garage, take her to dinner sometimes. It was easy enough.

But it wasn't. Because the woman he loved was going to be at the races too, just not with him, not in the way they wanted Rebecca to be with him.

It was too late for him to back out. The press had released several stories about Carlos and Rebecca already.

The call ended, but he just stayed there, sitting in his chair. He flipped open the ring box several times, playing with it in his hands. The ring was gorgeous, simple, elegant. But now, Carlos doubted he'd ever get to put it on her finger.

At the knock on his office door, Carlos shoved the ring back into his desk drawer. "Carlos?" She called as she entered his office. He looked to the door as she walked in. Her shoes clicked softly against the tiled floor as she walked to his desk and sat herself on his lap. "I've got news about the release. It's launching next week."

"I'll be the first to buy it," he said, his hands on her hips.

Just hours ago, this would have been welcome news. The release of her book meant they were one step closer with telling the world about their relationship. But all of that had been thrown out of the window now, and she had no idea.

"I can't wait to kiss you after a race," she said, her head against his shoulder. "I can't wait to be seen with you."

Carlos said nothing. He kissed her head and held her close, relishing in these moments they had together. There was no telling how many more there would be once she found out.

Maybe he could propose to her now. Drop down onto one knee, put the ring onto her finger and kiss her until she forgot how to breathe. But then it would hurt so much more when she found out.

And he couldn't do that to her.

Permanent Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @prettiest-at-the-party @hellowgoodbye @minkyungseokie @formulaal @hiireadstuff @urfavnoirette @goldenharrysworld @andydrysdalerogers @hrts4scarr @llando4norris @evlkking @lilymurphy03 @hollie911 @customsbyjcg-blog @honethatty12 @nikfigueiredo @darleneslane

Taglist: @juleswrites223 @ellesssssxzxz @itsjustkhaos @booksandflowrs @landossainz @laneyspaulding19 @sleepybrokenmelle @92spcy @khaylin27 @princessria127 @aexitizen-ln4

[simphornies]

can you make a vox x pregnant! fem! reader?? i just feel like he’d be over the moon for a baby, and i think the baby would almost look like an adroid? like not a whole tv screen, but a digital face almost like “^-^”

A/N: This is so cute! I enjoyed writing this a lot <3

Word count: 748

Spoiled [ Vox x F!Reader ]

“Vox, honey. I’m fine!” You laughed, walking away faster just for Vox to teleport in front of you.

“Y/N! Let me carry you both to our fucking room god damn it-Please?” He begged.

“I gave birth almost a month ago, my legs are going to be okay, Vox. I promise.”

Vox had been paranoid during your whole pregnancy, serving you like a princess and keeping every single demon away. You would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the extra love and attention. As soon as you gave birth, Vox nearly crashed the entire city down but held it together the moment he heard the cries.

He looked at you, smiling sweetly with the baby in your arms. Everything inside of him softened as soon as he saw it. The baby had his eyes, his claws and everything else was yours. Seeing you hold his baby in your arms so delicately and carefully with such love in your eyes made him fall in love with you all over again. He promised you the entire world.

He didn’t let you walk anywhere, insisting that you need to be carried wherever you need to go. It doesn't matter how far or how close, he will swoop you and his baby up and take you. You didn’t want to get accustomed to being spoiled rotten and you certainly didn’t want your baby to grow up entitled so you would sneak away sometimes, which would give Vox the craziest heart attacks as he frantically searched everywhere for you. As soon as he would find you, you would be scooped up without a second thought and brought to your destination. Anything you needed, anything you asked for, anything you wanted, craved or even said you liked? You would have it that instant.

The same went for his baby, his spawn. He was nervous about being a father, nervous that he’d somehow mess it up. But all of his worries melted away into nothing the moment he held his child. He knew he would fight for this baby. Any time he heard a cry, he’d be there in a snap, panicking about what’s wrong. You helped him soothe his worries by helping him learn how to take care of a baby. He learned how to differentiate cries. He constantly had a list of everything the baby needed on one of his many screens.

Velvette surprisingly adored your guys’ child. She enjoyed dressing them up in the cutest outfits and showing them off whenever she got the chance. Valentino was a different demon around the baby. He didn’t know how to react to the crying as well as everyone else did, basically just holding them away at arms length with panic on his face. He tried bringing them to one of his shoots when he was babysitting to which he got three hard smacks upside the head from you, Vox and Velvette.

Your child was spoiled all around.

Vox constantly cuddled up to you and your guys’ baby. He spoke so softly, caressing her with gentle hands. The baby turned out to be an android like you but definitely took some of Vox’s traits. One night, the two of you were having cuddle time before you had to put your baby to bed. Vox had his finger trapped under his baby’s hands and to his surprise, he felt a little jolt. A little shock. You both blinked at each other. Vox’s grin grew wide when he realized the baby got his electric powers. He was over the moon, gently swinging the baby around and peppering kisses all over their face.

“Y/N! My powers transferred over! Oh this baby is going to be the strongest little overlord Hell has ever seen!” He said, voice full of pride and joy. You smiled and hugged him arm.

“The strongest.” You gave Vox a kiss, “And we made that. Thanks to you mostly.” You winked at him.

“Oh hush. You knew what you were doing that night. With your hot, sexy, li-”

You smacked him lightly before he could continue. “Not in front of the baby! Quit that!”

He laughed, “Sorry sorry!” He gave you a kiss on your nose, “I think it’s time to sleep for this little one.”

“I’ll go put them to sleep.” You take the baby out of Vox’s hands but not before Vox could give them another kiss. “And then you and I have some catching up to do.” You winked.

[soy-soi-si]

Imagine y/n having to join the team as a stand in for another person that was supposed to be there. And everything goes wrong.

Tw. angst, brief torture, injuries, death, past abuse, helplessness, reader almost dying. Foul language! Really crappy writing and not proof read prolly missing a few Tw's as well.

Y/n doesn't like the group at first. They seem patronizing, constantly talking about the person who was going to join. Constantly asking if you could actually do what he was supposed to. Hell even when she was completing the mission they kept checking on her more than each other even if two of them were under fire. She got so annoyed with Price after the genuine thirtieth time he told her the step by step of what she already did.

“If you keep fucking patronizing me I'll bust your balls Mr. Price is right. Now fuck off I'm already done.” She sighs at the deactivated bomb having completely gutted it and made sure it's not going to explode. Not to mention rescuing the hostages and securing the building and her section.

The laughter over comes echo's in her ear as she turns to the man it was strapped to as he cries out his thanks. She already checked him for weapons along with the other hostages; she untied them all and now has them in a corner taking cover just in case. Mostly women and a couple kids like three men including the one she saved.

She also deactivated the other bombs in her building and surrounding. “Christ sake your feisty lass!” she scoffs in response to soap, no longer looking at the civilians “You cunts have done nothing but baby and patronize me the entire time I've been around you. Sit and spin you big bitch.” The others chuckle at the end of the sentence.

“What am I sitting on again lassie?” she smirks “My fuckin 31cm dildo I'm gonna fuck you with later.” The cackles echo from gaz and roach. She hums before turning back to the civilians. “She's right about you patronizing her.” Ghost's voice echoes from the coms as a gunshot does as well. “my sector is clear.” She blinks as she hears movement outside.

“I think some strays came to my sector. I'm hearing stuff outside.” She raises her gun slowly moving to a window. She catches a peak of a huge group of the enemy surrounding her building. “I'm surrounded, there's easily a hundred if not over. Shit!” she notices one of them aiming up at the windows and she drops down. “these guy were not fucking anywhere near here until now…” she pauses as she hears one of the radios from the enemy in the hall and she crawls over to the door and she spots it sitting out front by the dead body and she grabs it closing the door again.

She listens to them moving to defend the hostages. “shit, they're telling everyone to come to my building!” She puts the other Radio against her mic. “Find the hostages, and the woman…” that's all she can make out before the window shatters along with an explosion. “take her alive and kill everyone else.” her ears are ringing as she sees someone coming out of the smoker and she shoots at them.

Searing agony sweeps through her after a second. She couldn't even tell she screamed as someone tackled her. “Get the fuck off of me!” Shooting them straight in the face then she shoots once at any movement she can make out the gun quickly clicking in response so she drops it pulling her handgun.

Then it's knocked from her hand as soldiers shoot at her from the doorway and it doesn't take long for her to realize she's on the floor surrounded by enemies. Each hostage she just saved gathered in front of her an executive guilt filling her body as each of them are made to look at her. She can't lift her hands or legs anymore in pure agony as the adrenaline is gone and so is each person she just met.

The seemingly leader steps in front of her holding a knife flipping it in his hand smiling as he crouches down to her eye level. She saw his picture and couldn't help but recognize him. “Hello there doll, you mind telling me where the pretty boy who was supposed to be on this mission is?” she glares at him. As he taps it against her neck, lightly cutting her skin each time. “So you've got Intel from our base. Sorry but he's fuckin dead. Died off base via a psycho girlfriend who thought he was cheating on him.” he takes a second before smiling. “Amazing news, pity I didn't get the honor though.” he cuts her wire. “But I'll make up for that with you pretty girl.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

She never wanted to die, at least not like this, not after lying her ass off about everything they wanted to know as they tortured her. She wanted to gloat in their face after what she said gets them caught and killed. But she could be proud at least at the wide eye angel personality and face she's pulling the cries and blubbering all fake.

“Puhluse I've told you everything!” She sniffles crying in agony, her eyes wide as she's pushed into a freezer, one you would have in a garage for wild game or fish except it's more like a transport cooler in size. The lid slammed shut over her and it's pushed into a hole of sorts crashing into the side then onto the small box beneath her.

“No, no no!” She tries pushing the lid up but it's heavier and heavier as dirt covers it. “FUCKIN BASTARD!” She kicks the lid, not even budging. She lays as she notices how cold it is here, probably freshly turned off.

She takes a few deep breaths as she knows she'll die in here sooner or later. She searches for her phone in her bra quickly finding it. Looking at the battery it's almost dead. “Shit” 10% she quickly shoots a text to her brothers group chat. A simple I love you. Before she calls the number one of the idiots gave her before they actually went on field. She desperately listens to the ringing before it's picked up. “Are you the Sargent!” She can hear the vehicle running. “Yes it's fuckin me! I lied to them about the information. They're headed for West Point and go get them! I want them to die for this!” She tears up knowing damn well she's setting herself up to die sending them away from her she bites her lip sniffling at the bright screen in agony.

“I’m sorry I fucked up big time. Just tell my brothers I'm sorry and that I love them.” “Y/n where are you.” Price's voice now echoes from the phone. “Dunno, but I'll be, I'll be.” she chokes back a sob at the words memories coming back as she looks at the lid above her. “I’ll be fine, just go get 'em for me. West point I sent them towards the dummy container and warehouse they're looking for weaponry.” her hands are shaking as the cold gets to her.

“Y/n breathe for me what are your surroundings like right now.” Gaz practically chokes out his question. “They buried me. You won't find me in time even if you look. Just go get them! Stop worrying about me and go get them! I didn't just go through torture for you to fucking fail on me!” She is starting to get sleepy as she switches her phone to the most battery saving settings she can. Sniffling, she looks at the phone. “Please tell him I love him and that I'm sorry. He's the, he's the one that was supposed to be on the mission he's my little brother,” laughing once she sighs, “Thank you for everything even if it was annoying for you to patronize me.” She smiles at the screen as Ghost goes to speak “we’re not going to-” it dies in the middle of his sentence, leaving her alone in the pitch black. She begins sobbing uncontrollably holding her phone in front of her wishing it was still on.

“N-no, ple-euase, I don-n't wa-auhnnt to digh-ie,” she can't breathe with how much she's choked up. “N, Noaut liku- ke, th-This-ss,” she's just getting more distraught by the second as all the composure she's been keeping until now is gone. She just sits there remembering her life, her recent life, then her childhood remembering how her dad would lock her in their freezer when he got angry.

“Da-Daddy please I don't want to die like this.” she can practically hear him scream from the other side as white spots appear in her vision. “Shut the fuck up you little whore!”

She reaches up barely able to feel her body as she knocks on the freezer like how she used to since it was against her and her siblings room. She can't even speak as she can't move anymore and she turns looking at her phone again in her limp hand.

I'm so sorry, I said I'd be fine on my own.

She didn't even realize she passed out not until her eyes opened again as sudden warmth hit her, let alone how it grabbed her neck. “She's alive!” Roaches' voice screams from above her as she's ripped from the freezing cold and put on the burning hot dirt of the outback. Someone pushed her onto her back doing chest compression then grabbing her nose before blowing into her mouth her head tilted back. Once then twice. Then three times as suddenly she gains control of her breathing, her head no longer as fuzzy as she chokes breathing looking around dazed.

She's rolled onto her side. “She's lost a huge amount of blood, the freezer floors full of it!” She hears roach climbing out as she lays her head on the dirt, unable to move besides shaking, noticing the early signs of hypothermia in her hands as they're almost blue.

“I got her phone to come on!” Roach and the second person here get in the back of the buggy and she notices finally it's a blonde man with a balaclava pulled down showing his scarred face then she sees the familiar mask on the top of his head and the tactical gear and she hears soap cursing in the front. “Patch her up already you fuckin bastards!” she looks at Ghost, feeling her tear stained face clearly along with her snot caked onto her. Seeing some on him from mouth to mouth.

He leans over her trying to wrap her head but she reaches up using what's left of her sleeve to wipe off her snot and tears off of him. He looks at her surprised but more so worried. “Aren’t you handsome, sorry about the snot.” her voice is barely there as her arm falls as she passes out again.

She didn't know scared older military men were her type.

[queer-n-here]

HEY

ITS THE ANON THAT ASKED FOR FYODOR X MUSCULAR READER

ERMMMM

IF ITS OKAY CAN I HAVE THAT NOW BUT SMUT

PLEASE

( im not desperate i promise )

-🦅 ( eagle emoji anon cs rahh america )

Yeah brotha, ofc!

Also, welcome to the anon fam. Here we go, Fyodor smut. (And guess what? I'm writing this in my mom's school so like... pray that I don't caught)

Also, I'm gonna do your Kunikida req, too, just gimme like a day or two, yeah? Hope you like it, even though it kinda got OOC.

Contents: You walk in on Fyodor fingering himself to the thought of you, and then you fuck the poor anemic man.

Warnings: Smut, top male reader, nipple play, OOC Fyodor.

Fyodor was almost ready to get on his knees and beg.

It was probably the first time in his entire life that he'd ever been so desperate.

It had all started that one day when you'd picked him up for the first time, and ever since then his skull could only contain one thought: you. Any and all attempts at a distraction were futile. After trying for weeks, Fyodor gave up on them.

His only solace was the handful of hours when he'd be asleep. Lately, however, you'd started haunting his dreams, too, plaguing them with thoughts and images of you that grew filthier and filthier each time. Gods, what were you doing to him? And how were you doing it? Was this a part of your ability? To hypnotize someone and make them lose control of their senses?

Even know, rutting pitifully against the pile of blankets in your room, Fyodor's glazed eyes could see you. Your huge form, towering over his own. Your ginormous hands tracing his skin, gripping his waist and rubbing his nipples.

His naked chest came in contact with the bed sheets, and he threw his head and moaned, pathetic dick rubbing back and forth against the soon to be stained sheets.

But it wasn't enough. It wasn't even nearly enough.

Fyodor licked his fingers slick, then reached back to insert the first one into his achingly empty hole, trying to convince himself that it was your finger his hole was fluttering around. He shut his eyes, seeing you against the back of his eyelids instead.

Pre-cum dribbled down his shaft as his shoulders shook, his free hand clenching desperately at the sheets. Gasps and moans spilled from his red and bitten lips, and all of a sudden his fingers hit a certain spot.

Fyodor's back arched, a particularly loud moan leaving his mouth. He slipped in a second finger, hand moving faster now. He bit down on the sheets beneath his head, muffling his cries against the fabric as he found himself tipping over the edge soon. As his cum hit the sheets, so did his body. His poor anemic body couldn't hold for any longer.

He rolled over onto his back instead, dazed eyes opening slowly, and taking a moment to process what they were seeing.

You.

For a moment Fyodor almost believed that he had now gone insane. But it was too real to be an illusion, you were too real.

He sat up with a gasp, hands flying to grab the sheets beneath him and try to cover himself with them. You were faster, though, ripping the sheets out of his grasp and letting them fall onto the floor.

This was going to be fun.

Not that you had expected to see Fyodor like this when you opened the door of his room. I mean, sure, maybe you could blame that on your habit of not knocking, or maybe even his of not locking his door. But you were glad you two did that, how else would you have ended up in his room, smirk growing on your face as you took in his condition.

Fyodor was still trying to reach for the sheets, but you grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the bed above his head, making him fall onto the bed on his back with a huff.

"Fyodor," Your eyes had an unusual darkness to them, one that set the alarms blaring in his head. "What were you doing?"

Fyodor tried to struggle out of your grasp, his weak body fighting against yours to no avail as a deep red blush rose through his flesh. "...It's none of your business!"

"Isn't it?" You tilted your head, face inches away from his. "You said my name."

Fyodor froze. "W-what?"

"You called for me," You repeated. "And you were loud, too. I thought you were hurt somewhere."

His pale skin reddened further, and he turned to look away from your blazing eyes, but you grabbed his chin and made him look at you.

"Were you thinking about me?" The smirk had returned to your face, and your eyes were hungrily roaming over Fyodor's body. "You were fucking your hole with your fingers like a little bitch in heat; were you pretending they were mine?"

Fyodor's breath hitched. Being caught like this before he had even come down from his previous high was intimidating, but also strangely arousing. He let you loom over him, your huge body almost completely hiding his against the bed.

"Answer me, Fyodor," You said.

And he couldn't do anything but nod, cheeks flaming. You leaned forwards and kissed him, smiling slightly. He gasped again, surprised, eyes wide and hands falling limp in your hold. You let them go, placing your hands on his waist instead as you pressed him into the bed, tongue invading his mouth.

"W-what are you doing?" Fyodor pulled away just long enough to ask.

"Hmm," You hummed against his lips, pulling back and sitting on the bed to take of your clothes. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

Fyodor's breath hitched, his skinny body shifting against yours. You finished stripping, leaning down to kiss him full on the lips again, this time more passionate. He fisted his hands in your shirt, pulling you closer weakly.

You sighed softly, reaching forward to trace the curve of his neck, the dip of his collarbone. Pulling away, you lowered your head to kiss there instead, leaving marks in the wake of your fingertips. Fyodor moaned, screwing his eyes shut against the feeling of your lips on his skin.

"[Name]," He panted, biting his lips to stop himself from moaning too loud.

"Hmm?" You pulled away from his collarbone, raising your head to look at him. "What do you want me to do, baby?"

Fyodor's eyes widened slightly at the pet name, but he wrapped his arms around your neck all the same. "Please, fuck me..."

And who were you to deny him?

He'd prepped himself just fine, and, aligning your tip with his leaking hole, you were able to slide in your member relatively easily. You started slow, thrusting into him gently at first, trying to give him time to adjust himself.

"[Name]." Fyodor moaned, brows furrowed. "Nggh, f-faster, please!"

You obliged him, speeding up considerably as you lifted his legs, wrapping them around your waist before placing your hands on either side of his head. Fyodor was clenching around you with each thrust, each nudge of your tip against his soft and tight walls making his toes curl.

Your hips snapped against his, and his back arched, thrusting his nipples up into your face. You kissed them readily, licking and biting and teasing to your heart's content as the man beneath you squirmed and panted and moaned.

"Fyodor," You said, teeth gritted against the feeling of Fyodor around you. "Does it feel good, hmm? Tell me, d'you like it when I fuck you like this?"

Fyodor's eyes were blurred up with tears, his eyes blown out and wide, making him look like he wouldn't be able to process anything but your cock in his ass for the life of him. Still, he nodded frantically. "S-so good, hah! Mmph, [Name]! Feels so... so good..."

You rolled your hips, pounding into him with a rhythm so heavenly, it had Fyodor seeing stars. One thrust in particular hit somewhere so soft inside him, he cried out, and you shifted to hit that spot again. His grip on your shoulders tightened, head falling back to expose his beautiful neck.

You leaned down to kiss it, rolling your hips and bullying his prostrate. His nails were burying into your skin, moans growing louder and louder by the minuted in a way that told you he was close.

And sure enough, pretty soon Fyodor was trying to speak through his lewd noises. You understood his meaning even when his words were barely coherent. Speeding up, you bit his shoulder, making him cry out in a mixture of pain of pleasure so intense all other thoughts were wiped out from his brain.

He reached his orgasm, hips bucking up into yours as a cry ripped itself free from his throat. You slowed down to a stop even as your cock throbbed at the feeling of Fyodor clenching around you so tight it almost made you lose control.

He huffed and panted beneath you, using one hand to cover his face. You gently pried it away, planting a kiss on his forehead. You waited for him to come down from his high, peppering kisses on his face softly.

He raised a hand to place on your chest to stop you, giggling softly. "You..." He hesitated slightly. "You haven't finished yet, right?"

You had been ignoring your throbbing dick for a while now, trying to remain still despite the desire building in your gut.

You shook your head.

Fyodor flushed slightly. His arms had fallen limply onto the bed when he'd came, and now they rose to wrap themselves around your neck again.

"Go on, then. You can... do it till you cum."

And being as restless as you were, you immediately began moving again.

[theflowerrooms]

to request • eddie’s masterlist • main masterlist

Brand New Baby Girl

Eddie Munson x pregnant!fem!Harrington!Reader

Summary: you’re having your baby girl and her father is nowhere to be found, thankfully, your brother Steve, and Eddie step in, promising to be there for you and your girl.

wordcount: 2.1k

Warnings: Tommy being a deadbeat loser, swearing, pregnancy and childbirth, Steve being a protective big brother/uncle, Dustin’s super cute, Eddie steps up!!

this was requested by @tracymbcm, unfortunately a bunch of my asks got eaten, yet I persevered! Thank you so much for requesting this, I loved writing it!

Steve's hand is warm and shaking slightly as he holds your face, damp from tears. You just pushed through another contraction, they were getting closer together, your baby was almost ready to be here and still your boyfriend, Tommy, was nowhere to be found. He hadn't answered the phone any time you, Steve or even Eddie called him.

Steve sighed pressing his lips to your forehead as you cried, Eddie dabbed away your tears, holding your hands with his free one as Steve's held your heavy head. "Tommy needs- needs to get here. 'm having his baby." You cried out, head falling back against your pillow.

  "I'll go call him again, s'gonna be okay." Steve pressed another kiss against your forehead before he stood straight to head out to the hallway, his hands shook as he called Tommy's number for what felt like the thousandth time, getting sent to the answering machine again.

  "Tommy you fucking bitch, your daughter is being born right now. You'll be lucky if you're even physically capable of seeing her after I'm done with you. Asshole."

  You gazed up at Eddie with sad eyes and he frowned down at you, calloused thumb dragging over your knuckles. "You're doing so good man. Such a good mom already. Everything's gonna be alright, y'know?" Eddie chewed on his lip nervously and a smile broke onto your flushed face.

  He had no idea what he was doing or saying. Neither did you. He was just so sweet, holding your hand and encouraging you. You'd known Eddie for a long time, but you'd never been close. Not until you started staying with him and Steve during the last few months of your pregnancy when it was getting hard to take care of yourself and Tommy was busy 'working'.

  You knew he wasn't working, Eddie guessed he wasn't, and Steve was seeming to just be figuring it out. You weren't entirely sure why you were still with him. You did love him, and you'd both been so happy and in love earlier in your relationship. You were just desperate to find a way to fix your relationship, love each other again for your daughter's sake. You remembered what it was like to have parents who didn't love each other, who hardly loved you and Steve. You didn't want that for your baby, she didn't have a big brother that would make up for everything else like you did.

  Steve walked back into the room, jaw tight and you didn't need to ask to know the outcome. You threw your head back in disappointment, sweaty forehead resting against Eddie's arm. He didn't mind at all, just leaning down to press a kiss to your hairline.

  You groaned quietly when the doctor entered the room. He didn't spend long checking you out before he clapped his hands and smiled at you. "Ready mom? It's time to start pushing!" His voice was happy and calm but it did nothing to quell your anxiety.

  "I can't, I can't-"

  "You can babe, I know you can." Eddie squeezed your right hand tighter while Steve grabbed your left. "You are the strongest person I've ever met, you can do this, for her. And y'know she doesn't seem to be willing to wait 'cause she's on her way, like, now. You are going to rock this." Eddie gripped your face, waiting until you nodded before he nodded at Steve who nodded at the doctor.

  The birth went smoother than any of you thought it would. It went smoother than it probably would have with Tommy there instead of Steve and Eddie.

  Steve was as encouraging as ever, hyping you up, helping you regulate your breathing. It was crazy how he went from kissing your scraped knees when you were kids to kissing your teary face as you had your first baby. His hands stroking your arm and hand constantly, carful not to irritate your IV.

  Eddie had to take his rings off, he wouldn't complain about the pain in front of you, but he wouldn't be surprised if his knuckles were broken from how hard you squeezed his hand, the prints from the chunky silver he wore still red on his fingers.

  You learned there's no such thing as being prepared for childbirth. It's the scariest, most painful thing you've endured.

  But it's also the most rewarding. All of the pain and fear was beyond worth it when you got to hold your baby girl against your chest. You were crying. Steve was crying, Eddie too. The baby only cried when she first came out, but now she was quiet, chubby cheek smooshed against your chest.

  The first while after you had her was hectic, doctors checking on you and her, asking you, Steve and even Eddie millions of questions. But finally, it was just you, Steve, Eddie and your doctor in the room again, it was quiet as Eddie put your hair into ponytail for you so it wasn't as warm on your neck. You cried happily and watched Steve hold his niece for the first time, his golden brown eyes glossy with tears.  "It's so nice to finally meet you." His voice was soft and it shook, dripping with love, for you and the baby.

  "I think you guys should be good for visitors now." Your doctor smiled at you all and Eddie nodded, standing up straight.

  "I'll go get the kids." With that he kissed your head for the millionth time and left the room. He took a minute in the hallway, leaning against the wall. The day was overwhelming, filled with so much pride to have been there for that, for you, and so much anger toward Tommy.

  The door closing again startled him. "You did great in there, dad." The doctor grinned at Eddie and his heart pounded in his chest. He chose not to correct him before he started his descent down the hallway.

  "She's here." Eddie told the group of people in the waiting room. The kids bounded down the hallway, tripping over their own feet with Dustin in the lead.

  Robin bumped Eddie's shoulder with her own as they followed the kids. "Tommy show up?" She asked and Eddie shook his head, hands clenching at his side.

  "It's his loss." He sighed. "Prettiest fuckin' kid ever born and he's not here to see her." Eddie scoffed.

  You cried more hearing everyone gasp in awe at your daughters presence. "Wash your hands! Nobody touches the baby till your hands are washed, thoroughly." Steve demanded, swaying softly with your baby.

  You weren't sure when the waterworks would stop. Robin crying with your baby in her arms made you cry more. Lucas was nervous about holding her, so he didn't, but the way he looked at her in Max's arms brought even more tears to the surface.

  "We are going to be best friends. It's okay, if you like your mom or uncle Steve a little bit more than me, but uncle Dustin's gotta be at least top three, got it?" Dustin explained to your daughter too little to even be able to see him properly and you cried more.

  It was Tommy's own fault he was missing out on this, you knew, but still you wished he was here, for you, for his daughter. "Steve?" You got your brother's attention. "Did he try and call back at all?" You asked, hope draining with each second, and depleting entirely when Steve shook his head.

  He grabbed his coat. "I'll go get him." Steve's voice was monotone, arms stiff when he left.

  "Alright everyone, 10 more minutes of babylove and then you're getting kicked out!"

-

  "Tommy's not coming." You guessed as you leaned against Eddie who lay next to you in the hospital bed which was definitely not made for two people. You'd just fed your daughter for the first time. Giggling at how Eddie's face was beet red as he looked anywhere but at you during the entire latching process.

  "Fuck Tommy." He shrugged, hand resting on your elbow as you held your beautiful baby girl, cooing softly.

  "Already did, unfortunately." You laugh softly.

  "Yeah." He drags it out in a sigh. "Sucks to suck I guess. But hey, you got a pretty sweet consolation prize over here." He brushed his thumb over her cheek and you realized it's the first time he's touched her since she was born.

  You shift your weight to offer her to him and his eyes widen. "You haven't held her yet." You hum and he takes a deep inhale, taking her from your arms.

  "What the fuck..." his voice shakes as he looks down at her, deep brown eyes brimming with tears. "She's like, ethereal. She's perfect." His voice broke and you sniffled, pressing your face into his shoulder.

When Steve came back you pretended not to notice his bruised and skinned knuckles, pretended not to notice his swollen lip or the welt forming behind his eye. You assumed Tommy was worse off.

  He came over to the other side of you, leaning over and kissing your cheek, then leaning further to kiss the pink blanket over your daughters stomach. "I'm sorry." He whispered and you shook your head.

  "I'd rather you and Eddie here anyway for me." You hummed and he smiled, big hand resting on his niece's stomach, sleeping quietly in Eddie's arms.

  "We'll we're not going anywhere." Steve started, "we're here for you, and for Baby Harrington."

  "Stevie."

  "What's up?" He looked up at Eddie, tongue wetting his bottom lip at the sound of his voice.

  "That's her name. Stevie." You spoke quietly, tilting your head toward your baby. 

  "What?" Steve's eyes glazed over and his mouth dropped open. "For real?" He looked from you to the baby and started to choke up.

  "There's nobody in my life more important to me than you, Steve." You smiled. "Well, except for her" you giggled.

  "Not her fault she's so much cooler than everyone else." Eddie baby talked at her, making you giggle.

-

  Later on, Steve left to go update your parents who were not invited to the hospital, Stevie was off getting checked out by some nurses, you slept, and Eddie watched you, a protective hand laying on your stomach.

  The door opening stole his attention from you and he stood up with a big smile on his face as your baby was brought back in the room, making soft noises from where she lay in a nurses arms.

  "Looks like mommy's tuckered out! Uncle Steve's out too, looks like it's time for some daddy-daughter time." She smiles sweetly as she hands the baby over to Eddie. "I'll be back in a couple hours to check on Stevie and mom. She's so peaceful, enjoy it while it lasts." She laughs softly and leaves.

  Eddie rocks her gently in his arms as he sits down with her. "I'm not your dad, just so you know. You kinda got screwed in the dad department. But so did I and I'm super cool." He smiles down at her as she stares up at him. "Besides, you got lucky with the coolest mom possible. She's incredible." He smiles up at your sleeping form.

  "And just for the record, I would be so honoured to be your dad."

-

  About 10 months later, you sit on the floor of your new apartment with Stevie. Soft brown locks and big brown eyes, there wasn't anyone she looked like aside from your big brother. The only thing she inherited from Tommy was his freckles, which you were fine with because they were so cute.

  She grabs onto your hand, using it as leverage to pull herself up, which she'd been doing a great job at for the last week. You cheered her on as you both waited.

"Da! Dada!" She yelled the only word she used regularly as she heard the door open and close. Neither of you had to look to know that it was Eddie.

  "My girls!" He shouted with a smile like he did every time he came home from anywhere. He picked her up and held her on his hip, giving her a big wet kiss on her cheek before he leaned down, flipping her so she was almost upside down, giggling loudly as she watched you and Eddie kiss. "Missed you so bad, take this" he shifted and you smiled, pulling Stevie from his arm as he presented a small gift bag to you.

  "I know her birthday's a couple months away, but, I got her something. And I need to show you now because it's so cute and I might explode if I have to wait." He rushed out and you laughed at him.

  "Go ahead dear." You smiled as you sat Stevie in your lap.

  He destroys the bag in his pursuit, grinning wide. "Dustin's totally gonna flip." He mumbles before finally, he pulls out the gift.

  A little hellfire onesie for his little girl.

[sgiandubh]

What do you think of the theme “we’re all adults here” starz is using

Dear Theme Anon,

That is a beautiful question and I think this is your lucky day: with a tropical night ahead (35C/ 95F - nope, that is not a bra size 😱🤣), we simply live at night, like Superman. So, while I am slowly cooking my famed (but tedious) Circassian chicken recipe for tomorrow night's semiformal dinner, it is with great pleasure that I am answering it.

Please excuse the length. I know what I am able to do when I really like a question and yours got me immediately interested. Thank you for that.

Funnily enough, I was just having a very enriching conversation this afternoon, with a very, very good friend, who is way more intelligent than I, so she has no desire to write any blogs on Tumblr. On the very same topic you raised, Anon. With her permission, I am going to sum up the gist of it (et merci encore à toi 😘😘).

Let's look at that pic again:

The Craigh Na Dun Fateful Dance of Love and Death is one of the most moving pivotal moments of the entire series. Tens of thousands of women have shamelessly cried all around the world, while watching this (haven't you? I know I have and did it with no grace whatsoever, but pinky promise: don't tell anyone else, please). And then watched and rewatched and rewatched to oblivion, with or without that Kleenex box and that Ben and Jerry icecream at the ready.

You know, it's exactly like Shakespeare writes in Romeo and Juliet's Prologue ( I hope I still remember it...): ' A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life'. Love and Death blended together is one of the most powerful narrative tropes that ever existed. So much so, that a guy named Denis de Rougemont even famously noticed that in French, a single letter separates l'Amour (Love) and la Mort (Death), with seminal implications for our Western World mentality, ever since the Middle Ages. For some mysterious reason, we seem to always be caught completely unguarded when exposed to such ultimate injustice.

Tragic magic. This is exactly what also made OL a cult series, irrespective of its (many) unjustified lengths, its (many) moments of uneven acting and its (many, way too many) bullshit pills thrown at an increasingly jaded and bitterly divided fandom. Life imitating Art was just an unexpected blessing and a curse, that much we shippers know, and I am not planning to dwell on it.

But how long can you continue to sell this product almost exclusively to women, all around the world, especially when you are faced with the prospect of a dragging/delayed merger & acquisition (never a good sign) and an increasingly dwindling number of subscribers (never a good sign, either)? I'd think not for too long, really, even if OL still is one of ***'s biggest success stories ever. How long can you pretend to sell a high-end content to 'premium women viewers', when you know very well that you chose to discard that famed 'female gaze', which turned the series' first season into an instant media phenomenon?

Riddle me that: how to sell this product for a profit and expand that fan base while, at the same time, trying not to lose your loyal hardcore viewership?

This is ***'s first answer - I bet this will be followed by some more things, but let's see what it might mean.

On that poster, the focus is still on The Mythical Couple. Selling that good old famed, surreal chemistry - remind those old fans of that moment they felt all those feels (awww....). At the same time, try and create a need out of thin air - 'you need more'. More of what? Sex? Violence? Sexual Violence? Intrigue? Politics? Political intrigue? Ethics? Dilemmas? Ethical dilemmas? All of the above? None of the above? Stupid poster won't tell, but hey: buy me and I'll speak. Buy. Subscribe. We'll think of a way to keep you hooked - at least for the next season and a half. After all, Season Eight is a study in freestyle. After all, we conveniently leaked the info that 'Erself wrote the finale's script (why risk GoT's epic #shitshow?), so all is fine and dandy.

On par with our Mythical Couple, we have that sword. Oversized. Symmetrically featured. Action, with an intelligent twist - that is a finely wrought blade, after all. Uh-oh: that spells a new, more inclusive target. Male audience. 25 to 75, to be more exact , because the only promise the poster makes is a sobering one: 'more than fairy tales'- color me surprised.

After all, 'we're all adults, here'. Key operating words: 'all' (more inclusivity) and 'adults' (not like in X-rated, but more like in 'serious shite').

Well, then. That would require narrative chutzpah and bold choices. That would require a faster paced script, less of those never-ending side stories and borderline neurodiverse focus on irrelevant details (I am still not done with that Fiery Cross and not even ashamed of it, at this point in time) that do plague The Books. And throw rotten tomatoes at me if you wish (I don't care), that would require the end of that horribly robotic directing - we all know what the hell that means.

Will they be able to keep that high-maintenance standard? One thing I am sure of: when you treat your fandom like shite and drag along endless spells of Droughtlander without as little as a bone thrown in for diversion for months in a row, you'd better hone that blade, darlings and go for a kill. Bring it on. Bring that addictive spice back, stat.

It is my humble understanding *** wishes to create an OL universe. Wanna bet the farm that somewhere in their cartons they do entertain the possibility of (at least) a second season of BOMB? S and C cameos could be a breeze to arrange, after all ( we consider this in theory - I happen to think it could be more complicated than that). The story could be duplicated to oblivion - is it way too outlandish to imagine a season devoted to Mandy and Jem's story through several timelines?

[baby-yongbok]

You & Me

Han Jisung x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, idol

✨️Masterlist✨️

Warnings: mentions of wanting to die. (It's just for a second, I swear), Themes of a breakup/ ended relationship

Word Count: 1,460

Note: As soon as I heard Miserable (You & Me) I knew that I had to write based off of the lyrics. So I wrote this in thirty minutes while on anxiety medication that makes me a zombie so I'm sorry if it sucks but I actually love it.

Summary: You and Han's last call is emotional, to say the least.

"Did you tell them yet?" You whispered into your phone receiver. Han was quiet for a second before sighing heavily.

"No… I'm not sure that I know how to. Do I just say, hey guys y/n and I broke up during rehearsal or something?" He lets out a sad chuckle and a ghost of a smile pulls at your lips.

"Just sit them down and tell them, Ji… I don't want you to go through this alone." It's quiet for a few seconds. The dim light in your room embracing you softly, mirroring how you feel inside.

"I'm not going through this alone… you're going through it too."

"You know what I mean, Ji." You sigh, shutting your eyes and leaning your head against your bed's headboard. "You know… we probably won't really talk anymore anyway so -"

"Don't say that." Han's words are rushed but you can still hear the pain behind them. "Of course we can talk."

"About what? Do you want to reminisce about all of our arguments? Or talk about the future we gave up on? Talking to you would just…" Your voice grows smaller as you process your emotions.

"Don't." Han whispers, you can imagine his pained facial expression. Eyes closed and his nose slightly scrunched as he battled his heavy thoughts.

"It would just be painful… for both of us and I don't want you to be in any more pain, Jisung."

"Then let's fix this, y/n… let's figure out the long distance."

"Ji…"

"Please, you don't understand how many times I shut my eyes and hope that when I open them that this is all a dream. For two years you have been my everything, y/n. You have been the center of everything, you are a part of my life and if I have to let you go…if I really have to let you go then I honestly rather be dead."

Tears fall down your cheeks as you bring your knees to your chest and shrink into yourself. You knew that this would be hard when you decided to break up with Han but you also knew that the long distance and constant fighting wasn't what either of you needed or wanted right now. Deep down Han knew that too, he was just too afraid to say it.

"I know that this is hard… I've cried every night since we talked about it but this just can't work… I never see you, Ji… your job is something bigger than the both of us right now and it's not anyone's fault… it's just how your life is designed and right now I don't fit here… we don't fit here." You hear Han sniffle on the other line and you swear that your heart breaks a bit more. The sound only makes your own tears fall heavier.

"Is there someone else?" His question comes out in a whisper. He didn't want to ask it but knowing him he probably couldn't go another second without a solid answer to his intrusive thoughts.

"Of course not."

"Then… then tell me you're still mine, baby, please."

"Jisung… you shouldn't call me that." You pull your lips into a thin line as you take in the silence on the other line. At this point the silence has said more than either of you for this entire conversation.

"Please." His voice is once again barely above a whisper and you bring a hand up over your heart to make sure it's still beating. You're almost positive that the amount of pain in his voice could kill you but you have to try your best to stay strong. But, even if you are staying strong you can't leave him as the only one being vulnerable here, it just wouldn't be fair.

"I think… I think that I'll always be yours, you have my heart, Ji." That was the push that broke the dam for him. You listen helplessly as he sobs into his hands on the other line. You sit quietly trying not to succumb to your heavy emotions as well. The all too familiar silence swallows you both until your emotions seem to calm down a bit and all that's left is the sound of light panting and deep breaths every now and then.

"Do you remember when I came to visit you and I took you to the carnival?" A grin tugs at your lips as you shake your head.

"Yeah, I do, we got on the Ferris wheel because you swore you could handle it but you freaked out the second we started moving." You both chuckle lightly at the memory.

"It was terrifying but… when we got to the top and I looked at you.. and I watched you marvel at the view and that smile on your face when you pointed to the sunset…" He got quiet for a second as he recalled the memory. You could imagine a ghost of a smile across his lips.

"When I saw you looking like that… looking so beautiful, so breathtaking… I wasn't scared anymore, y/n." Now it was your turn to cry. The hand that was over your heart was now over your mouth as you tried your best to muffle your sobs. You knew it was no use, you knew that Han could tell that you were crying but you couldn't help yourself. You wanted to be strong for him.

"I kissed you on top of that Ferris wheel while the sun kissed the horizon and it was then that I knew that I love you."

"That was the first time you said it too." You manage to choke out through your small sobs. "I was so happy."

"I smiled for weeks after that. How could I not? You loved me.. I just.." The smile in his voice faded as reality hit him again. "I just wish that you would love me like that again."

"Han Jisung, I do love you… I love you with all of my heart but this relationship is going to hurt us way more than it is now if we don't take off our rose colored glasses and look at the reality of it all."

Han sighed in defeat, he knew you were right. The two of you weren't doing well with the distance and the dating rumors that social media constantly pushed out was not helping at all. They shipped Han with everyone they could think of which did horrible things for both your anxiety and his. You'd fight over pointless things and though you always made up you'd be fighting again a week later and it became a cycle that you two just couldn't seem to escape from. The last thing that you wanted to do was leave him but this just wasn't how your relationship was meant to go.

"You're my heart, you know? You always will be."

"You're my heart too, Ji."

"When I come to the states… Could I visit you?" He was shy to ask but he had to know if he could see you. It's all he ever wanted to do anyway, he always wanted to be around you. Hugging you, kissing you, cuddling you, and you used to love every second of it.

"You're always welcome here, Ji." You can nearly hear the smile that paints his face.

"And you're always welcome here, y/n… next time you come to Korea I'll show you all of the places I never got to show you while we were together… is that okay with you?" You smiled a sad smile 'while we were together' this is really over, huh?

"Sounds like a plan, Ji." Just as Han is about to reply you hear Changbin calling for him in the background and Han lets out a deep sigh. "Gotta go?"

"Yeah… we have promotions to do." His voice is sad again, small and distant.

"Can you promise that you'll take care of yourself, Ji… for me." Your voice is hopeful and pleading, something that Han can't seem to resist.

"For you, I'd do anything… So yeah, I promise." The silence came back to you both as you tried to figure out how to say goodbye.

"Well… I'll see you around, good luck."

"See you around, y/n.." Neither of you hung up for a couple of seconds, both wanting the other to say one last word. To hear one last breath escape their lips. Neither of you wanted to let go but you knew you had to. Just as you were about to hang up you heard Han's whispered words followed by the call ending. Tears welled up in your eyes once again as his words echoed through your head.

I love you, y/n

[a-random-weeb]

Alas it’s time for me to make a request so can I request yandere fyodor with a pregnant reader that tried escaping him but failed (miserably)

Alright, I'm gonna start making people say if they want Fyodor ones to be dark or fluffy because I could do both

Anyway this one isn't that dark because I just know Fyodor is more protective over a pregnant s/o. He wants a family and doesn't want to hurt the mom, he really wants this and for you all to be happy. Of course it's still dark, it's Yandere obv. It's dark compared to normal things, ig it's just not dark compared to the last Fyodor fic...

Disclaimer: I do not condone anything in this fic, this is purely for entertainment purposes and is never ok in real life (unless it's Chuuya or a bsd guy-)

Warnings: mentions of baby trapping, Yandere themes, mentions of kidnapping, obsessive behavior, anything else that comes in Yandere writing.

----------------------------------------------------------

Months of planning gone to waste. Your legs give out as you spot a tall figure at the end of the hall. You have no idea how he found out. You stare up into angry eyes, fear overwhelming your entire body. Fight, flight or freeze kicks in, and unfortunately, you freeze. You can't move your body, not even your eyes dare glance away from the sinister ones before you. The figure approaches you with a silent rage.

"Pl-please... dont..!" you choke out as fat tears roll down your cheeks. You can't say anything else, your throat burns and your headache feels as though you just bashed your head against a wall. He keeps getting closer to you before- Smack! His hand glides across your face, your eyes widden in horror. All he does after is glare daggers at you as you shake and sob, sitting uncomfortably on the floor.

After you've cried so much tears refuse to slip from your eyes any longer and your is headache almost too much to bear, he roughly pulls you up by your wrist, yanking you into the bedroom and locking the door behind him. All that can be heard are your tearless sobs echoing throughout the bedroom. To your surprise, he lays in bed with you and holds you face

"I'm angry with you, but I will not resort to violence as you bear my children. Instead, you will not be allowed of this room ever again unless to cook or clean, and will not be allowed out if I'm not home. You should be grateful, next time you try and escape, I might not be so nice." He glares, pulling you back to his chest and burying his face in your neck and rubbing your stomach.

"I wonder what our cute children will look like, I'm sure you'll be a great mother." Fyodor trails kisses along your neck. You feel slightly more calm, but your hope for escape has been diminished. You didn't want kids with him, Fyodor really is a horrible man...

----------------------------------------------------------

Idk what this is, but here it is!

[all-things-fic]

Jealous Guy / A Quarantine Harry interlude

A/N: Hey everyone…. Long time, no writing. Hope you are all okay? You’ll have seen from the odd ask that I’ve mentioned this one being in my google docs getting dusty. Genuinely I feel that it’s been giving me a mental block on writing anything else, and I think it was because I really thought there should be an element of smut. Re-reading it, that isn’t the case at all.

Happy reading! Speak soon x

He was panicked.

Trembling hands unknowing what to do.

Exhausted of any other option that he once relied upon.

Options that had previously worked. Options that were now failing him quicker than they ever had. 

This time his eight-month baby girl was having none of it. Changing a nappy and gently rocking, no longer seemed to work. She was upset and she was letting him and the entire house know it. 

“Be good for Daddy, Edie,” he hushed, a quick whisper mumbled against her temple. “‘M trying my best.”

Harry leaned his body back slightly as he turned his attention to trying to remove the lid of the baby bottle with one hand. 

Usually she was good for him. The handful of times that he had done any sort of thing - a night feed or shift here or a nappy change there - she had nuzzled into his bare chest and drifted off once more. 

The problem was those handful of times had been when she was tiny. And things changed. He hated admitting it to himself but he felt he didn’t know his daughter. The seven month old that he held so securely to him now felt worlds away from the tiny baby whose curled up legs barely reached his belly button when she was first placed to his chest. 

He hissed a ‘yes’ as the bottle lid finally gave way, popping off from the teet and allowing him to clasp the bottle. A relief flowed through him as he found confidence to shift his daughter in his arms.

“‘S coming, baby,” he opted for a gentle tone. 

Laying on your back, you stared at the ceiling of your bedroom and slowly blinked. Cries and grizzles had been non-stop for over thirty minutes now and as much as you loved a trier - and there was no bigger one than Harry - your fingers twitched to offer some form of help no longer wanting to hear the distress. 

You knew it would be a tumultuous line to cross. One that he would either be grateful for, or one that would create the faintest amount of resentment. 

Trying not to dwell on your thoughts, you pulled back the bedsheet atop your frame and exited your bedroom. 

As you rounded the doorframe, you caught Harry with his head rolled back on his neck and face looking up towards the ceiling. It was a picture you had found yourself in many times in the early stages, a level of exasperation radiating off him that could be felt by you from over the other side of the room.

Staying silent as you rested, your eyes took in the way he presented your daughter her feed. His movements were forced, but not forceful, his hand quick to pull away the item each time her tiny hands pushed and pulled at the plastic intrusion.

“We’re not playing, Edie,” Harry said, a hefty sigh rocking through his upper body and over the words.

“She isn’t,” you replied for your daughter. 

The sound of your voice had him raising his tired eyes to look at you. While his stare lingered, you noticed it seemed void of any care, almost too lost in logical thought to slow himself down rather than quickly complete the interaction with his first born like a task (of many) on a list. 

“Here, let me show you how.” 

You slowly pulled yourself away from the doorframe, movement tentative as you approached them both. Gently, you lifted your hand and placed it to the top of your daughter's head, stroking at her hair.

Harry’s body was stockstill as you lifted her tiny body and felt the soft trembles rock through her body from her subsiding distress. If your eyes hadn’t been so taken by your baby, you would have been able to see the dejected expression that laced Harry’s features as he noticed the way she began to soften when in your hold. 

Taking on a rocking motion almost immediately, you looked on as Harry loosely held the bottle of milk towards you. You easily took the item from his faint grip, feeling zero resistance. Turning the teat to your daughter, you gently let it rest at her pouty lips. 

It didn’t matter that you were mostly fading this out now for solids, not when she needed comfort. 

“You need to let her take it when she’s ready,” you softly spoke, voice barely a whisper. “She’ll know when she wants it.” 

Folding his arms across his chest, Harry made his barrier as he set his eyes on the relaxing face of his pride and joy. He took in the motions of your hand as you gently stroked the teet at her mouth and watched it drop open slightly to suckle. 

“Sometimes if you let her know it’s there, she’ll do the rest,” you kept your eyes down as you addressed Harry, waiting for her chubby hand to join yours in holding the bottle. “She does this thing if she takes my boob where she nuzzles first and finds my nipple herself.”

Soft eyes looked up at you with a pique of enquistism. 

“Yeah, you do, don’t you?” you heard the way your voice lifted as her small hand clasped against yours as you felt a smile lift at your mouth. “And when she’s grabbing, she’s not playing,” you flicked your eyes up towards Harry who stood quietly watching your exchange. You turned your eyes to Edie once more, “She holds it herself sometimes now, cause she’s clever. Aren’t you, Edie? Are you a clever girl for Mommy?”

Breathing deeply Harry found himself unable to continue taking in the two of you. 

“Shall we show Daddy how we do it?” You whispered, glancing again towards your husband. Harry took in the eagerness in your gaze but fell short of being able to match you. 

Why was he so incompetent? 

With downturned lips, he leant in to press a kiss to your bare shoulder from where your dressing gown had slightly fallen open. 

Feeling him move around you, you lifted your face to look at him. His body now slightly behind yours. 

“Stay,” you asked. 

“You’ve got it all in hand.”

“H-“

Feeling his hand slip from your collar, you bowed your head as he walked away before raising it and looking at his retreating figure from over your shoulder. 

***

Watching her small body rise and fall with breath, you were confident enough that she was settled to slowly leave the room. Feet softly padded against the carpet, down the landing and back towards your bed.

You found yourself stilling in all movement when you saw his side of the bed still empty. With a soft frown gracing your brow, you quickly swiped up the baby monitor that sat at Harry’s bedside table and turned to walk downstairs.

You were able to make out the dull light that came from your kitchen, once you had walked through the rest of the house which was cloaked in darkness. It was there that you found your husband standing in almost pitch black, besides the light that sat in the extractor fan above your oven. 

Harry rested against the kitchen counter, presenting himself in a shape to you that had gone unnoticed due to your lack of closeness since the year prior. He would always be a kind of lanky that exuded he was partial of tripping over his own two feet, but he wore his impending Dad-bod in a way that acknowledged while he had been eating for two, he’d also been working out for two. 

You noted his nose rested against the lip of his trusty mug, most likely warm and filled with his favourite coffee. It was something he often did when in thought and you didn’t know if your presence would be welcomed once he came to.

Placing the baby monitor down to the kitchen counter caught his attention, his eyes peering at you across the barely lit room. The silence was deafening. 

“Everything okay?”

He hummed, tone flat. A short nod thrown in your direction as he took a sip of his drink and rolled his lips into his mouth to remove them of any moisture the drink had given them. 

“You should’ve gone back to bed.”

“So should you.”

You felt a wry smile lift at your lips. 

“‘M awake now. I’ll probably just go for m’run or summat,” he continued.

“It’s not even five.”

“Perfect time then, no one’ll be around to harass me.” 

He threw back the rest of his coffee, tilting his body slightly to place the mug in the empty sink behind him. 

Your eyes looked him over as he stroked at his face, heels of his palms rubbing - almost pressing - into his eyes. He was obviously frustrated.

“Like I’m doing right now, you mean.”

The sigh that left him was one filled with exasperation. “If that’s what you think,” he trailed off, right hand running over his mouth and his day or two old stubble.

You felt yourself close up at his response, the way he seemed dismissive of your comment. Your - or at least you thought - obvious concern. While you didn’t have the desire to fight, his energy was the reason you had come to the conclusion that you were nothing but an annoyance to him in the moment. 

The first you realised he had moved was when his hand rested gently at the curve of your waist. The slight pressure against your skin before he stiffly drew you to him. Lips at your hairline, his whisper of “go back to bed” seemed almost a figment of your imagination. 

Then he was gone and suddenly it felt cold.

***

His feet pounded the pavement as he reached up to fix the bud of his earphone once the voice of Aaron Bruno had started to fade.

The heave of his chest and the dryness of his throat were two of the main things that kept him going. Blood pumping and fatigue weighing down his legs, he felt his frustration heavily lace his limbs before soaring away into the dark London morning.

Street lamps were still lit, leaving him running with nothing but his shadow and mind racing with bitterness.

It sounded silly, and he was ashamed to admit it but the green-eyed monster within him had openly reared its head above the parapet and Harry felt it would take a lot to push it down once more.

A run usually cured him. Allowed him time to proceed. To realise how minute he really was in the world. 

The feeling of the damp air signalled that there would rain at some point, a feeling that would’ve once soothed his soul. Heart pumping out of his chest, reminding him of how alive he was. Not today. 

He felt bile rise up the back of his throat causing the harsh stamp of his feet to slow as he approached the wooded area of the street in which he ran. 

Body bent over, hands on his knees he threw up his morning coffee, spitting to try and remove the bitter taste from his mouth. Slowly raising to full height, hands now on his hips, Harry tried to catch his breath. 

Inhaling through his nose and out his mouth, the tremble of his lower lip threw him off guard. His throat thickened, his blinks quickened. Harsh swallow. Heels of his palm pressed against his eyes as he tried to hold it. 

Hands wiped down his face with a harsh pull, he looked up at the sky which had started to get lighter. Worry racked through him as his mind raced. Why was he crying? 

***

It was eerily quiet when he finally made it back home with a Gail’s Bakery brown paper back swinging at his side. He tried his hardest to not draw attention to his arrival, the palm of his hand encasing his keys entirely as he laid them gently on the sideboard next to the front door.

Toing his trainers off, one by one, his Nike socks padded against the wooden floors with a stealth that he welcomed. As he walked, he slowly paused in the doorway to the lounge. His eyes found you curled up on the sofa, your favourite throw cushion nestled in the space between your neck and shoulder.

In his silent watchfulness, he thought that there was no way you were comfortable. Surely not. Then he supposed your exhaustion may have gotten the better of you. 

With the bag still in hand, Harry approached you and gently placed it onto the coffee table. His hands reached behind you for the throw that had recently become an addition to the back of he sofa, there if ever the need for a quick baby cuddle struck. 

As the blanket hit your body, he noticed you move with such a sudden jolt it caused his neck to dart to the right to look at you. Owlish eyes, round and startled, looked back at him. Your right arm had moved upwards, almost to stop his gesture of covering you. His touch somewhat foreign to your recent memory. 

“Shit,” he abruptly whispered, more so to himself. “‘M sorry, I didn’t-“

His voice trailed off. Didn’t what? He didn’t mean to wake you? Didn’t mean to be a prick? 

Two sets of eyes stared at each other in silence. 

The tautness of your body slowly seemed to fade as you came to, Harry steadily lowering himself down to sit on the edge of the coffee table opposite, abandoning trying to cover you.

“What time is it?” 

The sound of your tired rasp made his shoulders sag. You really needed the rest, and he’d broken your slumber.

“Just after seven.”

“Must’ve really needed that run.”

Your comment was innocent, though it could’ve been taken snidely. He had been gone longer than he should’ve been.

“I got us breakfast.”

His words were woven with an unspoken peace offering. He felt guilt crawl inside him, slowly starting to eat away at the jealousy within. Selfish, selfish man. 

He couldn’t look you in the eye. The ticking of his jaw as he clenched it to fight the burn of his throat once more, at his silent deprecation, which would surely be seen as unjustified. 

“Bet you could use a shower first?”

He scoffed a laugh at your suggestion, a faint smile lifting at his lips. “Smell me all the way from over there, eh darlin’?”

The term of endearment warmed you. You felt yourself sink into the cushions beneath you. He was within reaching distance, nowhere near as far as the question would lead to believe. The literal meaning was nonsense, figuratively he had hit the nail on the head.

He chanced a glance at you. “Fancy comin’ wi’me?”

You strangely blushed at his offer, but faintly nodded your head. It felt odd to blush over such a simple request. You supposed part of you felt tension between you both and you appreciated his apparent desire to try and smooth things over. 

He stayed seated as you swung your legs out from underneath you and sat so that your right knee brushed against his. Standing, you felt the terracotta silk of your pyjamas brush your skin as you reached to sweep at his hair that was damp from a mixture of morning dew and perspiration. 

“Come on then,” you smoothly whispered, hand squeezing lightly at the curve of his shoulder. 

Slowly standing, Harry’s front awkwardly bumped into your back, his hand reaching for yours as a way to steady you both. 

His touch was clammy when your fingers slotted against his. The knowledge of such a thing calming any nervous edge that fizzled within your being as you led the two of you upstairs. 

Harry lingered on the landing as you walked into the bathroom, reaching into the shower to turn it on and let it warm. His feet tread lightly, trying to avoid the lone squeaky floorboard that haunted you both on night feeds. 

When he stepped inside he caught you leant over the bath, rearranging the bath toys and trinkets that were placed in a basket to the one corner.

As his eyes dropped to take you in, they noticed the one lone rubber duck that was sitting at your feet. Silently bending, Harry retrieved it before declaring himself in the room with a, “don’t forget ducky.”

You pressed your hand to your chest, taken aback by him being so close. It amused him, his expression alight for the first time over the last few hours. 

He watched as your eyes fell to the plastic duck, hand reaching out to take it from his grip. “This thing is the bane of my existence,” you admitted.

“You love it,” his voice was as hushed as yours. “Gets her to laugh every single time, without fail.”

That was one thing he could rely on that hadn’t changed during his time away. 

You noticed the slight downturn to his lips as he spoke, before turning to place the duck on the side. “You get in first,” you nudged him. “Let me go undress-“

“Do it here,” he paused, before softly asking “please?” when his hand reached up to brush your hair behind your shoulders. The back of his hand turned to smooth down the silky fabric before dexterous fingers slowly rolled at the buttons of your pyjama top, the two sides giving way. 

He bit away his smile as he felt you press his hand to your breast bone, spoiling the fun before the fabric gave way and revealed the swell of your breasts. You saw the way his bottom lip bounced ever-so-slightly when he let it go from the bite of his teeth to say, “Gonna need my hand back to get involved.”

You let it fall.

Harry quickly made use of it and pulled at the collar of his shirt to lift it up and over his head. His socks, shorts and underpants quickly followed only for him to cup his manhood to cover himself as he turned to walk under the warm spray of water.

Next, the silk of your garments satisfying slid down your skin, trousers easy to step out of and top aimlessly forgotten too.

From behind the glass shower door, you watched Harry close his eyes and willed the subconscious frown to relax from his brow. 

You stayed silent and looked on. He needed this moment. For the water to fall onto his taut muscles, to loosen and wash away whatever concerns that were weighing him down. 

There was something lingering under his skin and while part of you was determined to get it out of him, you knew for the benefit of you both it had to be on his terms. 

Opening the shower door, you stepped inside with Harry keeping himself turned away from you, the expanse of his back was impressive as he held his hands flat to the bathroom tiles and let his head hang forward. 

You lifted yourself onto your tip toes, arm wrapping around his front to steady yourself as you pressed your lips to the skin on his back.

In reply, he squeezed your hand. 

***

As expected the shower had been filled with awkward silences, lingering stares and fumbling feet as you moved around each other to bathe. Harry haa gotten out before you, roughly drying his body and hair before tip-toeing out to peep into Edie’s room. You only knew the last part cause you caught him slowly shutting the door when you left the bathroom underneath your own fluffy towel. 

“Fast as a rock,” his voice rumbled, confirming she was indeed still asleep. “I reckon we’ve got another two hours for us before she makes herself known.” 

You had softly smiled at his words at the time, not really knowing what to say. He gave you a small smile of his own, as he walked past you and mentioned something about flicking the kettle on as he made his way downstairs. 

The two of you were now laid out on the sofa, Harry on his back, legs accommodating you as you lay atop him. Crumbs from the pastries that you’d shared mingled with your skin and sprinkled the plates that sat on your coffee table. 

His hands were gently massaging at your shoulder blades as he sang under his breath to John Lennon’s ‘Jealous Guy’. The rumble of his chest was soothing, as you pressed your face further into his pec and inhaled the smell of his freshly washed skin.

The sound of a drowsy sigh caught your attention, your head turning on Harry’s chest to look at the baby monitor that was now directly in your eye line. 

A video of a sleeping Edie met your eyes, all content with one arm resting above her head as she remained on her back. You kept silent as you tried to zone in on the coos she was making to see if anything was out ordinary, but she continued to seem satisfied. 

“She’s happy dreaming,” you spoke more so to yourself. 

“How do you know tha’?”

“Listen to the noises she’s making,” you pointed out, well aware of how you sounded.

A silence fell over both you and Harry, but rather than one of contentment, an awkwardness lingered.

“I’m useless.”

Those two words he spoke were heavy as they broke through. “I’m so- so fuckin’ useless babe.”

You lay still, atop him, a frown forming at your brow as you listened. He wasn’t useless but it wasn’t your time to intervene while he was on his self-loathing train. Not yet.

He quite clearly had a lot to mull over, to speak out loud. 

“I have not got a fuckin’ clue what I’m doin’ wi’her. Not one single fuckin’ clue and-“ he sucked in a deep breath that racked through his chest when released. “I’m standing about like a spare part, in the way of you and the incredible job that you're doing for the both of us because-“

“Because what?”

Your voice sounded so unusual to you. So small. 

“We all have to start somewhere, sometime-“ you continue.

“No, it’s not that, I know that. It’s because- I feel like I have to when- I guess, I’m making it worse.” He paused. “Every time I come home I’m reminded of my inadequacies and earlier on during my run I actually thought about not coming back because I can’t stand it.” 

You felt yourself hold your breath as his confession, body wriggling to try and get out of his hold. His voice was getting breathier and breathier as he spoke and you knew if you pulled yourself up to get a proper look at him, you’d at least find his lips downturned. 

The heavy swallow he did next only confirmed that for you.

“I’m so fuckin’ jealous of you,” he croaked. “Of the bond you share. Of,” his voice faded. “Everything, pretty much.”

As he spoke, you lay in silence unsure of how to broach the subject. Did he need you to be supportive, or did he need some tough love? 

Before you could stop yourself you felt the bubble of laughter start, the shake of your shoulders underneath his touch.

“Okay,” he started, clearly offended, “alright, I get it. I’m being ridiculous. You can stop laughing at me.”

“Babe,” you started, lifting yourself slightly. As you did so you saw the way his vacant stare lingered on the ceiling, his stubble unnecessarily inviting to you as it peppered his cheeks, chin and underneath. “Harry,” you tried again to get his attention, “I’m not laughing at you. Am I laughing at you telling me this while Jealous Guy is playing in the background? Yes but not at you.”

Listening to your words, Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes. In a matter of seconds he’d turned his head slightly and from this position dropped his eyes to look down the bridge of his nose at you. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you admitted. “At least not the new things. I am impressed that I’ve made it look like I do.” 

From your words, you watched his features soften. “And don’t,” you reached up to hold his chin between your forefinger and thumb. “Don’t think I don’t ever need you, that we don’t need you-“

“Cause we do,” you paused. “But if I’m honest, I’m going to need you to just do it. To just get involved, to make the mistakes and to learn from them because I can’t do it all on my own.” 

“I don’t need you dwelling on the fact that she didn’t take a feed from you one time. I need you to suck it up and try again in two hours time when we- you, try her with baby porridge because quite frankly I’m sick of finding it in my hair and I think you should get the enjoyment of experiencing that at least once.”

Seeing the flicker of his lips gave you hope.

“Really nice of you tha’ is,” he started. “To give me tha’ experience.” 

“I know. I’m really a giving person in that way.”

A small silence filled your space again. It was a little light this time. Progress. 

You let your eyes run over his features once more, hands getting the better of you when the thumb on your right hand tried to work away the lines of worry etched into his forehead. 

“We need to learn together, grow together. Help each other,” you hummed, unable to look him in the eye, your own concern of how he’d admitted how he was thinking of leaving ringing far too loudly for you. “We’re stronger together.”

“Look at me,” he requested. You fought against his ask, feeling the burning of your throat appear. “Darling, I’m not going anywhere. Okay?”

You swallowed heavily, nodding your head. “So, can you please look at me?”

Two pairs of sad eyes met. 

Envy had no rest, and the trouble was you were both already so tired.

[cripplecharacters]

I searched your blog and didn't find this, so if it's already been answered I'm sorry!

I'm writing a character who has photosensitive epileptic seizures and I was wondering if you have any tips on describing the experience of having a seizure?

My sister has them so I know what hers look like, but I've never had an epileptic seizure myself. Is it a painful experience? Is it more like fainting? What does the post-ictal phase feel like?

I know seizures can look different for everyone so rest assured this will not be my only source :)

Hello!

You're right that seizures are different for everyone, especially considering how many different types of seizures there are.

My last (Confirmed) seizure was several years ago. I have had some... "episodes" (For lack of a better term) that we're unsure if they were seizures or something else more recently but I'll be answering this with my confirmed seizures in mind.

I has epilepsy as a child and mostly had grand-mal/tonic-clonic seizures from what I've been told. For me, I experienced an aura anywhere from 5-10 minutes before the "main" seizure itself. This aura was usually a strange feeling in my head (Almost a tightness or pressure but feeling very loose as well? It's difficult to explain) with a rubbery taste in my mouth.

I can't say much about when the "main" seizure was actually happening as, for me, I wasn't really aware during it.

As somebody who faints... embarrassingly often, however, I can say confidently that it doesn't feel like fainting (At least for me). With fainting, I can feel myself starting to 'go' (My ears begin to ring and I feel almost like I'm fading out) and then I faint and it feels like I wake up almost instantly, even when it's been several minutes. For my seizures, it felt more like a blurred passage of time. I was an aware to an extent, I think, but not in the way it's usually defined (As being aware of your surroundings), it just wasn't like I was unconscious/asleep.

For me, I hated the postictal period the most. My seizures were usually accompanied by a loss of control over my bladder and would occasionally make me... not throw up, really, but almost spit up a bit. I'd usually wake up feeling incredibly tired and grumpy and usually ended up crying. The crying wasn't tied to any particular feeling, it was more of a physical response. And though I can now acknowledge that it's nothing to be embarrassed about, as a kid it was all pretty humiliating for me.

Just as a side note, my boyfriend also has seizures currently but not from epilepsy. I've been with him during his periods after the seizure before and he usually ends up acting like a kid, for lack of a better term. He cries a lot and is very disoriented but he's also very easily distracted. There have been several occasions where he's played with my keys for a few minutes before he comes back to it. He doesn't experience the same grumpiness and deep exhaustion that I did, though he has said that they make him feel very sleepy.

Although I didn't find the seizures themselves to be painful at all, there were several occasions where I ended up hurting myself during one. Usually this was hitting my head when I fell or during the actual jerking of the seizure but there have been other times when I had bruises or sore muscles afterwards. Given how young I was when I was having these kinds of seizures, I don't fully recall how the sore muscles/injuries felt as they didn't have as much of an impact on me as the seizures themselves.

After a seizure, I'd end up sleeping for anywhere from a couple hours to the rest of the day. I think part of it was the emotional exhaustion of a seizure while another part was the physical.

Now, I did speak a lot about the grand-mal seizures I experienced but I did also (And actually may still) have absence seizures as well.

A few years ago my seizures came back briefly and, despite my neurologist's best efforts, we couldn't figure out why. I'm not entirely sure how to classify them now but I was mostly aware during them and, from what's been described to me, my head was nodding up and down (To the point where it was all the way back), my eyes were rolled up into my head, and my eyelids were fluttering. I didn't experience any of the side-effects of my grand-mal seizures (Ex: Peeing myself, spitting up, crying, etc.) during these and I also don't know if I fell or not because when I had them, I was generally sitting down somewhere.

During these, my vision was flashes of colour/shapes and just generally what you'd expect from having your eyes rolled up and your eyelids fluttering. I was still aware that things were happening around me but I couldn't really process it the same way. I could hear people speaking but couldn't understand what they were saying.

You did mention looking into other sources for this and I'd definitely recommend doing that. These are just my (And, briefly, my boyfriend's) experiences and there are so many different experiences of seizures and epilepsy in general.

Cheers,

~ Mod Icarus

Hi lovely asker!

I have absence seizures and myoclonic ones so I'll add on my two cents as well (Cover more of the seizure spectrum here 😁).

For absence seizures for me its mostly just a complete blank space of time. There's one moment where I'm walking, talking, doing whatever and then the next thing I know I look around and usually like 30-ish seconds has past. If I was having a conversation and the person I'm talking to kept talking, I'm not aware of any of what they said when I was having the seizure. It's kinda like someone turns my brain off for a quick restart and then turns it back on again.

If there is nothing physical around me indicating of a passage of time. (Ex. Someone talking, I looked at the clock right before it happened, any living object that moves around) then I most likely won't know I had the seizure. Sometimes I have a little feeling because I often get headaches leading up to my absence seizures but other than that they're painless and more so there is that panic feeling of losing track of time. I'm usually just disoriented because of that sudden missing frame of time. I'll kinda look around, try to get my bearings, see what happened, if anything's changed etc.

Myoclonic ones really depend on how aggressive they are. They can be big (a whole side of my body will twitch) or itty bitty baby ones (my fingers twitch or I can feel certain muscles twitching). Kinda like with Tonic-Clonic seizures, all the muscles involved will contract on me and it's painful. Often times they're more annoying and frustrating than painful (trying to eat breakfast one time and let's just say my eggs ended up across the room).

They can cause my legs to jerk too which if I'm walking will make me just suddenly fall as my legs give out. Sometimes they can just happen as one, or they can cluster and that means that multiple happen in a row. When they cluster, they're often more painful because my muscles are contracting so many times. If I fall like I mention I often hurt myself because I just completely fall to the ground (not like fainting, I'm conscious and alert and I can move my arms and torso, it's usually just my legs that are the problem.)

Leading up to my myoclonic seizures sometimes I get really really really bad tremors that worsen with movement to the point where If it's my legs then I can't stand or walk (trusty old wheelchair). And if it's my upper body than my hands have very little use to me so things like eating, changing (buttons my enemy), writing, and pressing buttons is very hard to do (also I will add that I just have very clumsy dexterity in general so the tremors certainly don't help but yeah XD)

For all my seizures in general I get very light sensitive afterwards and my lovely doctors and nurses have told me it's because my pupils get completely blown and then constrict and they do this rapidly and it's often paired with nystagmus. So my Post-ictal is usually more just being sore, my head hurts, my eyes are very sensitive and usually the nystagmus is what lingers on the longest.

For tonic-clonic seizures (which I won't go into much because Icarus already did) they're the most painful for me and it usually hurts to move afterwards. I usually start to mumble and can't talk when they're about to happen it's just a lot of "um's" and "uh" and I can't form any words. I start to rub my hands over my body because my skin gets this tingly feeling, and I start to kinda look around frantically because again my anxiety does no help. During the seizure I'm usually in and out of consciousness so it's black and then I'll hear or see something for a split moment and then black again and yeah so on and so forth but I can remember bits and pieces (that I'm conscious for that is). Everything usually sounds really far away like I'm under water and my vision of what I can see is very blurry and there is usually like ten of the same person.

Very rarely i've stopped breathing during my Tonic-Clonic and with those they're usually not as painful (don't ask me why) but they are. Granted that initial struggle to breath again is a bit jarring but in my opinion these are a lot more traumatizing for the people around me than me myself.

Alrighty, hopefully this is of some help lovely person! As Icarus said this varies very wildly person to person and seizure to seizure so yeah. Have fun writing!

~ Mod Virus 🌸

[mazeruffleposts]

Hashira's React Pt.1

Decided to make a series known as "Hashira's React" for different situations. It's more for the giggle factor than much else. I will not be including Muichiro for this one specifically cause he is CHILD. And I will also leave out our lovable big bear Gyomei cause I'm not entirely sure how to write for him yet. Will make another post later just for him! Other than that feel free to send prompts for this, I'd love to work out your ideas regardless if they are dorky, simple, or in this case Slightly NSFW.

Sidenote, the art used here does not belong to me, If I can find the artist I will add it just below.

Content Warning: Mentions of Nudity

Word Count: 1.8 K

Proofread? No.

Hashira's react! to walking in on Love interest!Reader in the middle of changing! They caught you changing back into your uniform after getting a wound checked at one of the Wisteria Houses. They are all goofballs and I love them~

TENGEN (+ Hina, Makio, Suma)

アイロギ@ilog_kmt on https://twiman.net/

The Uzui's had met you after a rather long mission and almost immediately fell for you. Since then Tengen has been pulling some strings so that the lot of you could go on missions together.

Had heard from one of his mice that the reason you were late for the mission meet-up was because you had been hurt fairly bad in your last one. They all decide it's a great time to swoop in and try to woo you a bit. Ya know, show they genuinely care! (And shower you with some gifts while they were at it. I fully believe the Uzui's not only spoil each other but also any other love interests!)

Suma, being the worry wart she is, came crashing into the room not even bothering to knock. Makio came next chewing her out for being rude. Lastly, Tengen and Hina followed with the gifts. (Flowers and some bento's. Food in any medical setting tends to be bland and that's not very flamboyant.)

Suma cried out as Makio tried to pull her back to her. "Did you forget basic manners?" "Makio, please she was just worried about them!" Hina's voice rand out as she walked into the room, none of them having noticed what they walked into yet. "That doesn't excuse her from busting in!" Tengen follows in quickly, eyes closed with a wide smile as he holds up the ridiculously large bouquet of your favorite flowers. "Pardon the intrusion, we heard you were-" Hina gasps, finally catching sight of you panicked and red-faced as you try to cover your bits. "O-OH!" Everyone quickly looks over to Hina, then to you. Suma squeals as Makio damn near picks her up to get her out of the room as Tengen and Hina quickly turn on their heels and dart out as well. A string of apologies is left in their wake as they slide the doors closed.

They are all blushing madly cause they on one hand felt bad about busting down the door, but on the other hand, got to confirm you are one hot SOB.

They wait until you are fully dressed before they even attempt to make contact. Starting off with apologies and Suma clinging to you saying she was sorry.

Suma may or may not have also let it slip she thought you were hot.

KYOJURO

アイロギ@ilog_kmt on https://twiman.net/

He had heard from a passing friend(everyone is this mans friend, let's be honest) that you were hurt. Right then and there he decided he was going to come bring you flowers to liven up the room while you were in recovery.

Since he really likes you, he took some advice from Uzui and got you a ridiculously large bouquet. Maybe a little over the top, but it's too late to turn around and get a different one. In his slightly overthinking state, he forgot to knock before opening the door.

He fumbles with the rather large bouquet of flowers in his hands as he paces outside your room's door, fretting for a bit if all of that is truly necessary. Tengen had told him to absolutely shower you in, his words, 'Flamboyant' gifts. And he trusts his friend's advice, especially since he had three wives who absolutely adored him. Taking a breath to steel himself, he grinned that bright smile of his and swung open the door without a second thought. "My dear friend, I have brought yo- O-oh... Oh my-" Out of sheer surprise, he dropped the flowers and covered his face. "M-MY GOODNESS! FORGIVE ME I SHOULD HAVE KNOCKED! I'LL LEAVE IMMEDIATELY!"

This man proceeds to turn around, still covering his face and run into the wall a couple of times before lamenting and flailing out his hand to find the door. It would have been endearing and a little funny if you weren't mortified that he had seen your bits.

Does not uncover his eyes till he eventually makes it out of the building, bumping into every wall on his way out and a few people.

SANEMI

アイロギ@ilog_kmt on https://twiman.net/

Had been keeping tabs on you since he realized he had feelings. The one time he's not out on patrol his crow Sorai comes to tell him that you were hurt pretty bad in a fight with a demon.

Now his mind is racing with all the ways you could have been hurt. And he wasn't there to do anything about it?

Panic.

Doesn't even ask anyone where you are, just starts opening doors and slamming them back shut until he finds your room.

Recognized you immediately and was about to start berating you until you yelled at him to get out. Why? You're naked.

It didn't even click till your hands shot up to cover yourself. Now he's standing in the doorway frozen. His mouth is opening and closing while he fumbles over words to try and say something about the situation.

"Oh- I... I, uhh..." Sanemi's brain is having a hard time trying to come up with a reply. Out of sheer will, he backs out of the room sliding the door closed uncharacteristically slow behind him. He blinks a few times, then runs his hand down his face. He needs to go find a cave to crawl in and wilt away. There's no way he can recover from this, right?

He's not even three steps down the hallway before a loud thump can be heard. When you, fully dressed now, and the kakushi look to investigate the sound, Sanemi is face first on the floor completely out cold.

And now on top of the headache he has, his nose is bleeding.

OBANAI

TheCherryBlue on DeviantArt

Similar to Sanemi, he'd been keeping tabs on your wellness and whereabouts since the moment he realized he had feelings for you. He knew you were hurt before you even had the chance to send him a crow.

Almost feel bad for the demon he was in the middle of chasing down when he heard, he made quick work of it though. Now he can focus entirely on getting to you.

Had enough sense to not bust down the door, but was too worried to wait for a reply when he knocked and walked in. Was greeted with the sight of your semi-bare ass as you were trying to pull up your pants.

Thank the gods that he has a mask so you can't see how red his face got. He doesn't even mutter any words before he slams the door and practically rushes out of the building to crawl into a hole.

MITSURI

Had heard you were hurt and wanted to come check up on you. She didn't even let her crow finish speaking before she bolted for your location. It took her a moment, but as soon as she arrived at the safe house she asked all the kakushi which room you were staying in until one of them told her.

Normally she would knock on the door for a little forewarning that she was there, calling out your name in her normal sing song-y voice, but this time she made the grave error of nearly busting down the door.

Now she's standing there panting, frozen in place as she looks at you. It takes a few moments for her mind to catch up on what she just did.

Mortified she slams the door closed and starts blabbering out apologies faster than you can comprehend that she had even seen you naked.

"-I SWEAR I DIDN'T MEAN TO BUST IN LIKE THAT IT WAS AN ACCIDENT I WAS JUST SO WORRIED WHEN I HEARD YOU WERE HURT-"

The staff on the other end of the hall from her are gawking wondering how someone could turn that red and not pass out.

Probably one of the few times you've heard her get close to actually cursing, cause let's be honest this cinnamon roll can't curse even if she tries.

She kept that up until you finally opened the door to let her know she was alright. You're not even sure she saw anything with how quickly she burst in and left. Maybe a single butt cheek, but that was it.

SHINOBU

梅雨音 on Twitter

Had come back to the Butterfly mansion to a nightmare. Damn near every room and bed was filled with injured slayers, her poor staff plus the extra help that was called in rushing around trying to tend to everyone.

She was working on autopilot by the time she got to your room. Hadn't even noticed that the sign on the outside of the private room had been labeled as "Tended" when she walked in.

Knocked on the door and promptly entered without waiting for a reply, only looking up from her patient list in time to utter your name.

She freezes, uttering a small "Ah." She immediately sees you're already bandaged up

"I see you've already been seen. My apologies, I'll leave you be to finish getting dressed."

Tries to play it off as if that blush on her cheeks wasn't from seeing you naked. Promptly takes her leave, closing the door and checking for how she missed that mark on the door. Not entirely upset that she saw you, but wishes it was under better circumstances.

GIYUU

アイロギ@ilog_kmt on https://twiman.net/

Came in to get some rest after a particularly rough night slaying. Had been running himself into the dirt chasing after that one demon and was exhausted. He misheard that he was supposed to take the second room on the left, not the first.

Our Boy doesn't know what the hell to do. His brain turned off entirely when he took note of your naked form.

His face and neck are so red, he can't help but look cause holy shit you are so pretty... And bare... And he's been staring at you, hasn't he?

He has been, for a few minutes. Your startled squeal didn't do anything but make him look at you and now he's stuck buffering. There's got to be a way to get his attention to snap back to reality, right?

Throwing something while trying to cover your bits at the same time is hard, but it works. So much for Hashira's danger sense cause that pillow hit him smack dab in the face.

Smack! Giyuu's reaction to the pillow hitting his face was a bit slow. Instead of smacking it away, his hand only managed to grab it when it collided with his face. And now he's holding it there while that buffer wheel in his head finally loads. He was staring at you, while you were naked. He ignored your cries to leave the room and that was so bad of him to do. Now that his limbs are finally following orders again, he takes a step back to close the door and give you some proper privacy. Profusely muttering a muffled apology as he leaves.

Runs into you again in the morning and can't make eye contact. His face and neck are red again.

[ugh-yoongi]

she, by proxy | myg, kth

(or, the one where yoongi gets what yoongi wants, even when what he wants is taehyung. especially when it's taehyung.)

✤ pairing: yoongi x reader; taehyung x reader; yoongi x taehyung ✤ genre: est. relationship (yoongi x reader), pwp ✤ rating: explicit; minors dni ✤ warnings: a lot of swearing, drinking but no one's drunk, a friend group in which everyone is queer and has fucked at least once probably, taehyung is a messy hoe but yoongi's an entire disaster, pining, open relationships, polyamory that is discussed briefly, i have been told there are some feelings involved. the most important: there is gay stuff in here!!! i repeat, some of this is VERY GAY! please do not read if that isn't your thing! ✤ smut warnings: girls making out, a threesome, dudes kissing, oral sex (m. receiving), anal fingering, vaginal fingering, taegi get pegged, dirty talk, dudes touching themselves a lot, come as lube (but there's also real lube dw), come eating, voyeurism, a lil slapping (thighs/clit), the dom/sub dynamics shift throughout the fic but mainly dom!reader, very mild degradation, a lil begging, taehyung cries, fingers always seem to wind up in mouths, hair pulling, frottage, yoongi accidentally gets edged, praise, protected sex, dp (fingers & piv at the same time). i think that's it :') but let me know if i forgot anything. ✤ word count: 8.3k ✤ credits: thank you to @effortandmore / @the-boy-meets-evil / & @here2bbtstrash for beta'ing this for me. my personal porny fairy godparents. i appreciate you all a whole lot. ✤ author's note: can you believe my degenerate brain dreamed this up and then i wrote all of it in two days in a delirious haze, opened the doc this morning to make final edits, and added almost 2k more. idk who i am anymore. if i missed anything it's bc i finished & edited this during jk's live and i was distracted, to say the least. anyway this is embarrassing i feel like a prude so i'm gonna go hide. pls come scream in my inbox with me unless it's to yell tired shit at me abt writing mxm/pegging/whatever else i warned you this is gay.

You hadn’t been surprised the first time, and you’re not surprised now, countless times later.

A girl slides into Taehyung’s lap—long hair, bubblegum pink, almost certainly a wig—and his hands immediately go to the small of her back. Large, nearly swallow her up, and they move to rest possessively at her hips, his grip tight as he pulls her closer. Her top is cropped latex and leaves very little to the imagination, which isn’t an issue for you or Yoongi because she’s not what Yoongi’s looking at. His eyes are locked on Taehyung’s hands; locked on the way the tendons flex as he manhandles the faceless girl in his lap, hikes her over one thick thigh.

Ten more seconds of this and all of you will be looking for a new club.

The air is hazy and thick, the floor sticky with god knows what, and Yoongi reaches for you beneath the table. His own large hand finds your smaller one, those knobby knuckles almost uncomfortable when he twines your fingers together. He’s still staring at Taehyung, and you want to do something, say something, it’ll be someone else soon, stop watching, you’re only gonna hurt yourself, but you know him, and you know when he gets like this it’s best to just let him ride it out. Suffer a little.

(Right now, it doesn’t seem like it’ll be tortured as last time, at least—when all of you had gone someplace else, some seedy spot in an Itaewon basement, and Taehyung had some girl pressed against the wall outside the bathrooms, fingers buried deep in her cunt as she shook and came. And Hobi, smarter and sharper than any of you but still so fucking stupid, had just—

“Fuck, man, they’re gonna need a mop and bucket for that. I mean, shit, it was so much? The sound when it hit the floor—”

Jeongguk had pulled a face. Half doe-eyes, half mortified terror. “When what hit the floor, hyung?”

“Her fucking squirt, Jeonggukie, what the fuck do you think—”

And Namjoon, just as wide-eyed and terrified as Jeongguk but for an entirely different reason, had laughed awkwardly and said, “Haaa, maybe we should talk about something else?” as he looked between Hoseok and Yoongi.

That night had been shit-tier, nearly unsalvageable, so at least it doesn’t seem like Taehyung’s in that kind of mood. At least the girl in his lap still has her clothes on. At least his hands are someplace you can see them. At least Yoongi’s still beside you.)

So you bide your time. Take stock of who’s still here and where they are, because the girl in Taehyung’s lap has her lips on his neck and things might go south faster than you’d originally anticipated. Hoseok and Jimin are on the dance floor, hips doing something sinful and too much; Namjoon’s at the bar, jaw clenched as the bartender passes him over for the fourth time in a row; Soyeon and Hyungseo are in the other side of your booth, tongues sloppy as they kiss just because they feel like it; Jeongguk, shoved in the corner on Yoongi’s other side, is slack-jawed as he stares at them, and Jeongguk is a fucking pervert so you know he’s hard.

“Put your dick back in your pants, Jeonggukie,” you say, loud enough for him to hear you over the music. The bass is heavy as it drops, feels like it’s thrumming through your veins, and Jeongguk startles. Bangs his knee on the underside of the table in his panic, and Soyeon and Hyungseo don’t bother breaking apart to look. “You want another drink?” you ask Yoongi, squeezing his hand a little tighter.

He shakes his head, finally drags his attention away from Taehyung. There’s someone new in his lap: chin-length silver hair, thin legs that go on for miles, tan skin covered in boldly-colored tattoos, could be anyone. Yoongi isn’t looking anymore, but you are, so you catch it when Taehyung looks up. Looks right at Yoongi, wants to see if he’s watching, but instead he just finds you. “Gonna go smoke,” Yoongi answers, and you slide out of the booth to let him leave.

“Is hyung okay?” Jeongguk asks when the two of you are pressed back together. He sips leisurely at his drink, trying to make it last until Namjoon makes it back from the bar with another one. Something baby blue and shockingly green, a little umbrella on top. Two cherries. “He seems sad. Hey, watch this.” Jeongguk pops one into his mouth and presents the knotted stem to you seconds later.

This is the part you never know how to explain: that Yoongi loves you but sometimes he wants someone else. Not instead, but too. That you love Yoongi and want him to have whatever he wants, and that jealousy is foreign to you. That you and Yoongi love each other but do things a little unorthodox, which is not out of the ordinary for a friend group as ran-through and commingled as yours, but still takes patience and care to explain.

So you just ruffle Jeongguk’s hair, laugh at his squawking protests, and wrangle him so you can press a kiss to the top of his head. “Don’t worry this pretty little head about your hyungs, okay?”

Jeongguk surfaces with a glare, surface-level because you’ve embarrassed him in front of two hot girls that are still making out, and hides his flushed cheeks behind his drink. “Is it about Taehyungie-hyung?”

“What’d I just tell you?”

He pouts, but you’re saved from another interrogation by Namjoon’s unceremonious return to the table. He’s so flustered by his one-sided feud with the bartender that he slams the blue-green drink down a little too hard, spills half of it in Jeongguk’s lap. “Move over,” he says to you, and you cock an eyebrow in return. “Please,” he amends, like that’s what you’d been looking for, but when you still don’t move he gets a little whiny and panicked. “They’re relentless,” he says, pointing his thumb at Soyeon and Hyungseo like you can’t see them. “Don’t make me—”

“What about me!” Jeongguk wails, pressing his hands pathetically to his groin like he’s trying to stem bleeding, at the same time you roll your eyes and fire a, “Says Mr. Eight-gigabyte Porn Folder,” at Namjoon.

You receive another glare, this time from Namjoon, and he doesn’t hesitate to steal Jeongguk’s spot against the wall when he goes to the bathroom to deal with his soaked pants, only to start swearing when he realizes the seat is wet, too. “Jesus fuck—”

“That’s what you get.”

“Fuck off,” Namjoon fires back. “Where’s Yoongi-hyung?”

“Outside smoking.”

“Smok—why is he smoking?” At your silence, he jerks his head up, intent on getting an answer out of you. Instead, his question dies on his tongue as he follows your line of sight. Another new person in Taehyung’s lap, sucking Taehyung’s fingers into their mouth. “Ah, yeah. That fucking guy.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Be nice, Namjoonie. You know Taehyung would hook up with a microwave if it gave him attention.”

“What number is that, then? Hasn’t he gotten enough attention?”

“Third I’ve seen. The first one was cute. I thought for sure he was gonna leave with her.”

Namjoon huffs, shakes his head. Takes a long pull of his beer. “He’s not gonna leave with anyone. He just does this to piss off hyung.” Then, like he’s coming to a realization, he turns to look at you with a quizzical look. “Wait, where’d Seokjin-hyung go?”

You stare back in disbelief. “How long were you at the fucking bar? He left hours ago.”

“Did he?” Then, quieter and to himself, “How long was I at the fucking bar?”

Whatever game Taehyung is playing, Yoongi is woefully inept at playing along.

Doesn’t know when it’s his move or when it’s time to sit and watch. Doesn’t know the rules. Doesn’t really listen when you try to explain it to him; probably doesn't want to hear it. Yoongi seems to think he’s at his best when he’s a little sad, a little miserable and yearning. At its core, that’s what the game is, and as much as he keeps touching the thorns to see if he’ll bleed, you know he still enjoys it.

(Know he gets off on it, too.)

Yoongi reaches for you. Steadies himself with his hand on your shoulder, pupils wide as saucers—dark dark dark in the corner of this grimy club—eventually breaking into a smile when you grab his sweat-slick hands and guide them to your waist. Your bodies move together like waves, pushing apart only for Yoongi to continuously pull you in closer, dazed from the feeling of you pressed against him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, words impossible to hear over the music, “look at you. So fucking pretty.”

He threads a knee between your legs, the sound of his groan drowned out as you roll your hips against him. Maybe Yoongi doesn’t know the rules to this game, but you do, and you make sure Taehyung’s watching when you drag your core against Yoongi’s thigh. He groans again, and his hands grip your hips tighter, moving you back and forth on him the way he does when you ride him.

You watch as he drags his eyes upward, see the exact moment he spots Taehyung across the club. His profile is lit up by the strobe lights, filling in the contours of his bone structure with greens and blues. He’s with Jimin and Hoseok now, dancing with the girl from earlier with the pink hair, her back pressed to his chest. He leans down and whispers recycled filth into her ear that she seems to buy. You watch as Yoongi closes his eyes tight; watch him pretend it’s Taehyung dancing with him; it’s Taehyung’s hips he’s gripping onto; it’s Taehyung who’s moaning and desperate for him in this moment.

You watch as his eyes snap open again.

You watch as he realizes he’s in this daydream alone.

And you wonder, briefly, if this should bother you. If this is fucked up, that Yoongi’s hard against you because he’s thinking about someone else, and you find that you don’t care. What you and Yoongi have doesn’t need to make sense to anyone except the two of you.

“Wanna go home,” Yoongi slurs into your ear, fucked up from the feel of you, the thought of Taehyung.

You smirk, tangle your hands in his hair and tug a little just to fuck him up even more. “Yeah? What d’you wanna go home for? It’s still pretty early.”

“Wanna fuck you,” he whines. Tries to hold you in place to grind harder against you and whines again when you move just out of reach. “Baby.”

“You know the rule.” There’s a drop of sweat that rolls down the side of Yoongi’s neck that you chase with your tongue. “Tell me what you actually want and we can leave.”

The breath he sucks in is harsh, fractured, like your question is a special kind of torture. You know it is. Unlike with Taehyung, this is a game both you and Yoongi know the rules to. Unlike with Taehyung, this is the game Yoongi plays to win. The song changes again, this time to something filthy and slow, and Yoongi fits himself to your back, moves until both of you are facing Taehyung. “Want you both,” he says into your ear. Nips at the lobe. “Want to watch you fuck him the way you fuck me.”

“Don’t wanna fuck him yourself?”

You feel him shake his head. “Not this time.”

“What are you doing, then? In this fantasy of yours?”

Yoongi presses closer, the outline of his hard cock pressing into the small of your back now. “Watching, at first. Wanna see you ruin him.” His hands skim along your skin, dip beneath the hemline of your shirt, dance across your stomach. “Wanna watch you make him fucking cry.”

“Are you telling me how?”

Yoongi’s laugh is low, a little caustic. “I won’t need to. He’s so fuckin’ easy.”

“And yet you want him this bad,” you taunt. “Someone easy like that—doesn’t seem to be your type.”

He bites along your neck. “Watch yourself.”

“I’m not the one all fucked up over Kim Taehyung.” You make eye contact with the man in question. Watch as the look on his face fades into a smirk, syrupy and slow. Sleezy, you think. He probably is as easy as Yoongi says. “I should tell him how fucking hard you are. Should tell him you’re gonna take me home and fuck me and come thinking about him. That’s pretty fuckin’ dirty, Yoongi.”

It’s nothing you haven’t said before. Sometimes you press even harder, humiliate him a little when he seems to be in the mood for it, but this time he goes stock-still. Silence stretches between the two of you, the only people standing still on this dancefloor, and you’re halfway turned around to see if Yoongi wants to fuck or cry when he says, “Do it, then.”

You laugh. All part of the game. But then Yoongi grabs your hand, moves it to his cock, straining against his skin-tight jeans, some kind of message that’s gotten fucked up in translation. “Yoongi—”

“Tell him,” he says, expression shuttered and serious.

“You wanna think about this for more than ten seconds? You haven’t talked to him since the last time you guys hooked up and you want me to go tell him you… what? That you want to have some weird cuck threesome with him?”

That’s exactly what you told him.

(Because you know Yoongi, and you also know Taehyung. Your dig at him to Namjoon was very much based in truth, and with how fucked up the dynamics of your friend group are, it hadn’t taken much more than sending Yoongi out into the cold to order a taxi, swaying your hips a little, re-glossing your lips, and disposing of the girl with the bubblegum pink hair. No one had batted an eye.

“I’m going home to fuck my boyfriend,” you said, leaning into Taehyung’s space. He was draped on the couch again, legs spread in a way that was frankly obscene. “Would you like to join us?”

“That depends, angel. How do you fuck him?” he asked, spreading his legs wider.

You stepped closer. Cupped his cheek, dug your nails into his skin a little, and said, “Better than you ever did,” all condescension.

Taehyung had just laughed. Pressed his tongue into the fat of his cheek. “I guess we’ll see about that.”)

And now you’re here, Taehyung sprawled on the bed beneath you. You can see why a sight like this would have Yoongi fucked up as long as he has been: Taehyung’s golden skin contrasting against the crisp white of the sheets, dark hair fanning against the pillows, curls falling into his eyes, chest heaving. Each time he throws his head back you’re torn between sinking your teeth into the column of his throat and wrapping your hands around it. It’s easy to ruin him when he looks like this; easy to give Yoongi what he wants.

“What should I do with you?” you think out loud, and Taehyung’s responding whimper draws a laugh out of you. “Yoongi wants to watch me fuck you,” you continue, hands teasing toward the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. You pinch, slap away the sting. “Would you like that?”

Taehyung’s cock—long and thick, still glistening with spit from when you sucked him off—twitches at the thought. “Y-yeah, fuck, want that,” he answers, hands moving to fist the sheets. He’s been so good. Has done exactly as you said. “Wan’ you to fuck me.”

“Should I fuck you the way you used to fuck your hyung?” Both Taehyung and Yoongi moan at the same time, and it’s so stupid, you think, this game they’ve been playing. Cat and mouse, as if the conclusion hasn’t been inevitable this whole time. “Use your words, Taehyung.”

“Yeah,” he says again, Adam’s apple bobbing heavily in his throat. “Y-yeah, like that.”

You hum, reach behind you for the bottle of lube. Yoongi mutters a quiet shit from the other side of the room and you glance over. Mouth hung open, lips wet; jeans pushed halfway down his thighs, the outline of his cock visible through his briefs, hand squeezing at the base. Cheating a little, but still not touching himself the way you know he wants to. He’ll be the first to cry, at this rate.

Eyes back on Taehyung. You wonder if he’d normally preen, put on a show. You wonder if he did that with Yoongi, some whole thing. “He’s told me about it, you know,” you say, clicking the lube open. Sounds more like a gunshot in the small space of your bedroom, where the only other sounds are labored breathing and the city outside. “Told me all about how you used to split him open with that big cock.” You tip the bottle sideways, let the lube dribble out and over Taehyung’s balls. He hisses at the cold, mutters a swear. “Told me he’d struggle to take it sometimes.”

“You two are—fuck.” Whatever Taehyung was going to say is cut off as your finger follows the lube, trails down to his hole. You circle it there, make sure it’s wet, press a little just to watch his hips jerk. “You two are fu-fucking weird.”

“Mm, maybe,” you concede, “but you should see how hard he comes when he’s thinking about you.”

You gather more lube on your finger, then, and press it inside. Just to the first knuckle, just enough to make Taehyung whine. “I guess you already know that, though,” you continue. Pour a little more lube on Taehyung’s skin. Pull your finger out enough to slicken it, push it back in a little further. “Was it good for you?”

His moan is broken and low, deep and heady. A sound that makes the world feel like it’s tilting; a sound that makes you want to chase it. “Yeah,” Taehyung answers, and it could be a response or a declaration when it’s followed by, “so fucking good.”

“Yoongi is good, isn’t he? He listens so well.” With your free hand, you grab Taehyung’s face roughly, turn his head in the direction of where Yoongi’s sitting. “Look at him,” you instruct. He already looks fucked-out. Cheeks flushed, breathing hard, knuckles white where he’s gripping onto the arm of the chair. “Look at how good he’s being, not even touching himself.”

And Taehyung… Taehyung almost looks ashamed. Won’t meet Yoongi’s gaze, now that they’re so close, now that it’s real, and this won’t do, will it, so you dig your nails in a little harder, drag them down his cheek, tell him again to look at his hyung. Then—

For the first time all night, their eyes meet at the same time.

Yoongi’s whimper is loud. The loudest you’ve ever heard him outside of actual sex. You work in a second finger alongside the first, build up a steady rhythm, and Taehyung isn’t faring much better. Little by little he opens up for you and you’re thankful for the way he sucks you in, adjusts. It’s getting harder to ignore the heat between your own legs, watching two beautiful men fall apart in vastly different ways, even though you want to drag this out, want to make Taehyung cry and give Yoongi exactly what he wanted.

And, god, Taehyung is so fucking pretty.

You tell him as much, and his smile is greasy, looks even more lewd when you crook your fingers and his eyes roll back. He’s still tight around you when he asks for a third so you shake your head, tell him no, tell him he’s greedy, and you think people must not make him beg much, the way he’s pouting. Taehyung has a face that gets him whatever he wants and a cock to match, and you’d understood it before, why Yoongi couldn’t really let it go, but it’s different when it’s right in front of you, making a mess of your sheets.

“I must be going soft on you,” you tell him, working in another finger the next time he asks. “Yoongi wanted me to make you cry and here I am, giving you whatever you want. Maybe I should let him decide what you get.”

Taehyung shoots a hand out, grabs at your forearm. “Don’t,” he says, voice hoarse, bordering on pleading. “Please. He’s still mad at me, won’ give me anything.”

A huff of breath escapes you. “He doesn’t look very mad to me. Looks like he could probably come on command if you told him to.” It’s not an exaggeration, not really; Yoongi is gone, looks like a stiff wind could have him spilling all over himself. “But maybe that’s what you deserve.”

You nail Taehyung’s prostate the next time you crook your fingers and he sobs. You do it again, then a third time. Precome oozes out of his cock, deepens the pool on his belly. You keep it up until tears pool on his waterline, until he’s reaching for you again, begging you to stop, words cracking as he tells you desperately that he’s going to come. “Angel, fuck, please, I’m gonna—”

“No, you’re not,” you tell him, all authority. “You’re not going to come, are you, because I haven’t told you to. Yoongi hasn’t told you to.”

The first frustrated tear streaks down Taehyung’s cheek. “Oh my fucking god,” he chokes out, forcing his hips flat to the bed, tries to force you to stop moving. But your rhythm is steady, confident, three fingers working with the space he’s left you, and it isn’t until you watch his balls tighten that they slow. Taehyung’s sweat-slick, looks even more golden under the amber lamplight, and it’s dizzying, the way the color shifts as his chest heaves with his ragged breaths.

There’s only enough time for you to slip your fingers out, grab the lube, slick up the strap-on that’s fastened around your hips, before you’re pressing the head against Taehyung’s hole, still dripping wet. “It’s so big,” you muse, grinning wickedly at the man beneath you, “I don’t know if it’s going to fit. What do you think, Yoongi? Is this how you used to feel?”

When you look over this time, Yoongi has his cock out, briefs tucked beneath his balls, stroking fast. Clicking your tongue, he looks up through half-lidded eyes, hand stilling immediately. His nod is almost imperceptible, too disoriented to answer, and you’ll give him this one. Won’t push it. What you will push, though—

“Shit.”

You’re not sure if it comes from Yoongi or Taehyung. It might’ve even come from you, because you’re transfixed, can’t tear your eyes away from the sight of your stupid flesh-colored dildo disappearing into Taehyung’s body. Fucking greedy, you think, mostly at yourself, because if this sight is good you can only imagine what you’d see if you were watching his face. Brows furrowed, mouth pinched. A look not far off from that night in the club, the determination on his face as he fucked that girl with his fingers, uncaring who heard or saw.

But this is your show. Yoongi’s fantasy. Whatever girls—people—Taehyung has fucked in seedy clubs across Seoul are of little importance here. All that matters is the steady push of your hips, the slow roll once you’re fully buried, the pleasure that jolts through you when you’re able to grind a little against the toy, the way Taehyung thrashes against the sheets, incoherent as he babbles, stuck between more and too much.

“Okay?” you ask, hands skimming along his warm skin. Goosebumps trail in their wake, and you settle them on his thighs. Press them up and to the side as he nods, giving yourself more space, and Taehyung’s moan is loud, unabashed. His cock lies neglected against his stomach, begging you to reach out and grab it, stroke him, make him come too fast so you have another bruise to press on, some way to embarrass him.

But this is your show, Yoongi’s fantasy, and you don’t have to look because you can hear how close your boyfriend is to getting himself off. Can hear the way his breath hitches, can hear when his rhythm changes. Quicker, now. More insistent. If Taehyung looked over at him, it’d be all over, and you almost tell him to do that, too.

“Stop touching yourself,” you say to Yoongi. A second time when he disregards the first, too far gone, too close. “Yoongi.” He whines but he listens, shoves his fingers in his mouth to stem the urge, and Taehyung watches it all.

You’re still thrusting, thighs burning, sticky where they meet Taehyung’s, and it won’t be your lengthiest performance, that’s for sure. So you call Yoongi’s name again, beckon him over, and he hesitates, looks so unsure. But it’s so stupid, the way he and Taehyung dance around one another—and you know, you know Taehyung wouldn’t be shaking like this if it were just you, if Yoongi wasn’t in his head, wasn’t watching—so you’re insistent. “Come here,” you tell him, and you make sure your voice is spun sugar when you say it.

Yoongi listens. Stumbles over on unsteady legs, knees nearly buckling when he gets close enough to also watch the way the strap-on fucks into Taehyung’s hole, the way it stretches obscenely to accommodate it. “Baby.” He threads his hands into your hair and kisses you hard and messy. Taehyung moans beneath you so you know he’s watching, and you will your body to move faster, fuck him harder.

When Yoongi pulls back, it’s obvious. The longing in his eyes. “Tell him,” you say, and he looks caught-out, would almost look angry if he were capable of it. “This is your fantasy, isn’t it? So tell him.”

“I—” He looks down at Taehyung again, meets his gaze again, and he must see something there you can’t, because all the hesitation is gone when he says, “I want to kiss you.”

And you know what it means.

Because that had been the rule between the two of them. No staying the night, no kissing. You know what it means for Yoongi to ask for that, what it’d mean if Taehyung allowed it, and it nearly cracks your heart in half that it’s the only thing he’s willing to ask for when his wants are endless when it comes to Taehyung.

“Oh my god,” Taehyung moans. “Fuck, hyung, yeah—yeah, c’mere, kiss me, please, fuck.”

Yoongi looks like he’s been punched in the gut. Looks overwhelmed, given this kind of permission, so he goes about it all wrong. Starts to kneel at the side of the bed before you tsk and grab him by his own hair. “Do it right,” you instruct.

He moans. Aborts whatever he was about to do and climbs over Taehyung on the bed, straddles him, fitting in between both of you perfectly, close enough for his cock to slot against Taehyung’s. They both moan, and their game had been so fucking stupid it sends a lick of anger through you. Yoongi ruts his hips once, twice, and then he’s leaning down and cupping Taehyung’s face and pressing his lips—still wet from you, still wearing your spit—to Taehyung’s.

And Taehyung comes immediately, nearly untouched. Spills all over himself with a loud, broken sob.

“Holy shit,” you say, hips slowing until they’re still. “Holy shit, that was fucking hot, what the fuck.”

Taehyung trembles in the comedown and Yoongi presses in closer, kisses him through it. Can’t seem to stop now that he’s allowed. He’s still rutting, has Taehyung teetering on oversensitivity, so you grab Yoongi’s hips to slow him. “Careful, baby,” you say softly into his ear. Press a kiss to the nape of his neck. Give him a minute to back away from the ledge again and get himself under control, let Taehyung catch his breath. “Are you okay, Taehyung?” you ask, hands once again touching any of his skin you can find. You knead at the muscles in his calves.

There’s some garbled response. Something you think is supposed to sound like an affirmation. “Words, please.”

“Y-yeah,” comes his response.

“Okay. I’m gonna go grab something to clean you up, all right?” You press another kiss to Yoongi’s shoulder, turn your attention to him. “Then we’ll finally give you what you want, yeah? Finally let you come.” A shiver runs up his spine and he nods weakly. “Can you prep yourself while I’m gone?” Another shaky nod. “Good boy. Gonna pull out now, Tae.”

You do so slowly. Taehyung hisses, sucks in a breath through his teeth. Hisses again when you replace the toy with your thumb, try to ease the discomfort of being so suddenly empty. With another kiss pressed to Yoongi’s shoulder, you mumble an I love you into his hair, and then you’re gone.

There’s always been something about the way Yoongi touches himself.

Like the goal is more than simply getting off. Like there’s reverence in it, something beyond purpose. Yoongi touches himself the way other people drop to their knees at church and pray.

Sometimes it’s long and drawn out. Sometimes his hands skirt over every inch of his own skin before he finally brings them to his cock. Sometimes he rests on his haunches in the middle of the bed and angles himself toward the mirror and watches, his cheeks aflame the entire time because he’s embarrassed to see himself like that, three of his own fingers fucking himself, but the embarrassment almost feels just as good. Sometimes he has you beneath him, raining down praise as his fist works the length of his cock.

Sometimes he does it entirely wrong, like now.

Two pale, lube-slick fingers work in and out of his hole. His own, then, and not Taehyung’s. Just like you’d asked. You’re a little surprised, thought maybe Yoongi might panic and retreat with you gone, but they’re both where you’d left them. Taehyung’s talking all the while, saying god knows what in that deep timbre, and it’s straight up pornographic the way his large hands rest on the cheeks of Yoongi’s ass, pull them apart.

The damp cloth in your hand feels useless. Is useless, you think, because Yoongi had told you something, once, deep in the throes of another cerebral fantasy—

“I can’t believe I have to keep telling you this,” you say, and everything immediately goes still at the sound of your voice, “but do it right, Yoongi.”

Taehyung lifts his head, stares at you skeptically. Probably mirroring the look on Yoongi’s face that you aren’t privy to with his back to you. “We’ve talked about this,” you continue, stalking closer. All eyes on you as you drop the cloth to the floor. “Are you clean?” you ask Taehyung, and he nods, expression still dubious.

And then you’re reaching between both of them, swiping your fingers through the mess of cum on Taehyung’s stomach, and he understands immediately. “Are you gon—fuuuck. Fucking christ.” The first swipe goes to Yoongi’s mouth, and there’s no hesitation as he sucks your fingers clean. Your free hand finds Yoongi’s, the one he’s working himself open with, and pulls it away. Replaces it with your own, your two longest fingers covered in the second swipe of Taehyung’s cum, and you fuck them in and out faster than Yoongi had been.

“Filthy,” Taehyung chokes out, clearly overwhelmed; another groan when Yoongi starts sucking at his neck, biting, claiming.

It’s primal, the way Taehyung reacts, the way Yoongi embeds himself under his skin, tries desperately to make a home there. Something permanent this time; or, at least, a home that won’t burn down like the last one. Won’t be reduced to a smoking heap of bitter ash. And you wonder, as you watch the way these two beautiful men fit together, if Taehyung will be holding the match or the key this time.

You press slow, open-mouthed kisses along the knots in Yoongi’s spine. Drizzle more lube on your fingers, work him open more. Whisper I know, baby, I know when he gets impatient and a little too demanding. Swap the condom on the strap-on and slick it up, just like last time, and then you’re pressing into Yoongi instead of Taehyung, the way you’ve done so many times before.

Everything is familiar and different: the drag, the pull, the noises spilling out of Yoongi’s mouth. Those staccato whines varied in pitch, sometimes drawn out and sometimes punched and short. This is what you know. This is your home, and you think, as Taehyung looks at Yoongi, so fucking endeared, as he gently cups his face, as he says—

“Hyung, you look so pretty. You’re doing so well, hyung, fuck, I didn’t think I’d ever see you like this again.”

—you think your house might look nice with an addition. An extra space carved out only for Taehyung. A room where Yoongi can exist in endless adoration.

“Make yourself useful, Kim Taehyung.”

Because Taehyung listens. Because Taehyung is good in all the ways that Yoongi is good, and he doesn’t have to be told twice when the order deals in Yoongi’s pleasure. So all of you adjust until Yoongi’s on his hands and knees, gripping tightly onto the headboard, and Taehyung shuffles down the bed until he can get his mouth on Yoongi’s cock.

“Fuck, yeah, just like that,” you say, and Taehyung moans at the praise, the vibrations making Yoongi gasp and jerk.

You know when you hit his prostate, too; know this is going to be over soon from the way he buries his face in the crook of his elbow and screams. You know it from the way he starts to shake. From the unintelligible filth that pours from his mouth as Taehyung swallows him all the way down. From the way he stutters out a, ba-baby, wha’bout you, gonna come like this, and you pet his hair, voice soft again when you say, this is for you, Yoongi, you can come, I know it’s so much.

There’s a final husky, drawn-out moan, and then there’s quiet.

Lucidity returns slowly.

The heat kicks on. A police siren wails in the distance, seven floors below you. You re-wet your cloth and do your best to clean the dried cum from Taehyung’s skin, your smile fond as he whines at the cold, tries to squirm away. Yoongi doesn’t move an inch, just collapses face-first onto the mattress and lets everyone fuss over him. Starts snoring a few minutes later, after you’ve pulled the duvet up to his ears and he’s tucked in and warm.

You move to the dresser. Pull out two t-shirts—oversized on you, tight in the shoulders on Taehyung—and clean underwear. And then you pause, because Taehyung’s already plucking his own clothes off the floor, already has his fucking socks and briefs on, and it’s… it doesn’t feel right, is the thing. Doesn’t feel like he should be leaving. Not tonight, maybe ever.

“Where are you going?” you ask, and you do a good job of keeping the hurt out, at sounding normal.

Taehyung doesn’t get it. Looks at you like you’re a little stupid and a lot crazy, because he looks at you, then at the world outside the window, and finally at Yoongi before answering. “I—leaving?”

“Why?”

Taehyung looks at you like you’re a lot stupid this time. “I don’t…” Pauses. Tries to sink into the floor to no avail. “Look, I think maybe this was a mistake? Hyung and I—I don’t think this is what he wants.”

“And how do you know what he wants?”

“Because we’re here,” he answers, anger seeping in. “Because I’m standing in your apartment. His girlfriend, and—”

You sigh. “If you want to leave, I’m not going to stop you, but I think it’d really hurt him if you left.” You leave off the again. It’s not your trauma to dredge up. Yoongi wouldn’t want you to, and that’s reason enough. “I would like it if you stayed, if that means anything.”

“The two of you are fucking weird,” he says again, but he looks less torn. Looks less like he would plow you over to get to the door, and it’s… progress. It’s good. You can work with a halfway thing. “Hyung would really—you think he wants me here?”

It’s spoken about in the way a broken thing always is: delicately, hesitantly, like Taehyung’s afraid of the answer, afraid to find out the results of this stupid game of his own design. “He does. It’s not my place to say much more than that, but I think the two of you are overdue for a conversation, if nothing else.”

Taehyung nods. Starts looking less and less like he’s out of place; starts looking like object permanence, takes a corporeal form within the four walls of your bedroom. “There’s space here for you,” you say, with the amount of care words like these require, “if you want it.”

“What does that mean?”

“Whatever you want it to. Nothing has to be decided right now, but I know Yoongi. You know him, too. I just don’t want to see him hurt again.”

Taehyung nods again. Peels his socks off. “You’re sure?” he asks, and when you nod, he climbs back into bed, seems to somehow know which side of the bed is Yoongi’s, two magnets drawn together. Something inevitable.

You breathe out a sigh. Finally slip the t-shirt and underwear on. Flick the lamp off and let yourself have a minute to enjoy the calm, Yoongi’s body heat next to you, still snoring softly between you and Taehyung. And then, because you can’t resist—

“You two are really fucking stupid, you know that?”

You hear Taehyung swallow. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, sounding the part of a scolded child, and as much as you try not to, you’re smiling again, fond and endeared, into the dark. “I know.”

“Okay. Go to sleep, Tae. I expect a very nice thank you gift in the morning.”

It doesn’t happen in the morning. Not really.

It happens sometime in the middle of the night. The light streaming in through the sheer curtains gives away nothing more than silver-amber light, the moon and the city. Could be minutes since you fell asleep, could be hours; all you know is Yoongi’s at your back, arm slung possessively over your middle, and his heat is stifling.

“Yoongi,” you hiss, because it’s not just his heat. He’s hard again, cock pressing against the swell of your ass just like it was in the club, and you feel him smile against your neck when he realizes you’re awake. Feel him rock his hips, just a little.

He nips at your lobe, your jaw. “Hi, baby,” he says, like this is just another morning. Like he’s about to present your favorite mug to you, coffee fixed exactly how you like it. “Why didn’ you wake me up?”

“For what?” you breathe out, voice already wavering. All Yoongi has done is skim his warm hands under your oversized t-shirt, swirl a finger around your navel.

Yoongi tuts. Feels weird to be on this side of it, the illusion of condescension. “To fuck you. Make you come. You didn’t earlier.”

“I meant what I said—”

“I know you did,” Yoongi interjects, “but I don’t find that to be a very acceptable excuse.”

You roll your eyes, no heat in it, but then Yoongi’s hand moves to the hem of your underwear and slips inside. Your hips jerk when he moves two fingers lightly over your clit, jerk again when he finds you already wet and groans deep and husky into your ear. And it’s not loud, but it’s loud for this room at whatever-the-fuck time it is. “Gotta be quiet,” you whisper to him, and he laughs, thinks you’re joking. “I’m serious,” you say, and you want to sound authoritative but it comes out as a whine when he sinks those fingers into your cunt.

“Why would I need to be quiet?” he asks. Crooks them as best he can from this weird angle, you on your side with your back pressed to him, Yoongi halfway on top of you. “Shouldn’t I be loud?” He hits a spot that whites your vision. “Shouldn’t everyone in this fucking place hear it?”

Usually you wouldn’t care. Your apartment building has heard worse, including whatever debauchery the three of you had gotten up to mere hours ago, but—“Taehyung’s asleep.”

Yoongi startles, goes still. “What?”

“What.”

“What d’you mean Taehyung’s asl…” You feel him turn. Feel him realize, for the first time, that there is a very-asleep Taehyung on his other side, and you want to ask how he hadn’t noticed before, want to say didn’t you realize how cramped this bed is, it’s not big enough for three people, we’ll have to get a new one, but. Yoongi hadn’t expected him to stay, hadn’t expected it to even be an option, so of course it would’ve been a blind spot.

Your heart cracks in half again.

“What’d you say to him?” he asks. Not accusing, almost awed, like you knew a code, the secret passcode to getting Taehyung to stay that Yoongi hadn’t had before.

You reach back, find Yoongi’s hair. Scratch gently at his scalp. “Just that I thought you’d like it if he stayed. That’s it, nothing else. I wouldn’t.”

“I know, I wasn’t…” He sucks in a deep breath, holds it, lets it go. He’s okay. “This is okay with you?”

A laugh spills out of you. “You’re asking me that now? I was nearly fist-deep in his ass a few hours ago but him sleeping in our bed is crossing some kind of line?”

“Sex can be different,” Yoongi argues, “and it’s me, you know, like it’s my hangup, not yours—”

“I want you to be happy,” you answer honestly. “Whatever that looks like. I told him there’s room for him here if he wants it, but they’re not my knots to untangle. If he wants to stick around, if you two can get your shit together… we’ll figure it out. It only needs to make sense to us.”

Silence. Then—“I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my fucking life,” Yoongi groans. “Jesus Christ.”

“I should’ve known hyung was the type to get a boner from open and honest communication.”

Yoongi startles again at the low rasp of Taehyung’s voice. “And that’s exactly why I said I fuck him better than you,” you fire at him, deadpan. He laughs. You don’t have to look at Yoongi to know how red he’s turned.

“You said that to him?” he chokes out, all mortified disbelief, at the same time Taehyung says, “Maybe you’ve got a point, angel.”

The mattress sinks under Taehyung’s weight as he shuffles closer to the two of you. Must touch Yoongi somehow, because there’s a high-pitched whine from the back of his throat, so loud in your ear, has heat coursing through you. “Finish what you started, hyung,” Taehyung says, and Yoongi’s nod is jerky, his hands uncoordinated under Taehyung’s watchful stare.

Yoongi moves over you fully, wastes no time before he’s working his fingers in and out at a steady rhythm, sucking at your skin. Taehyung groans quietly, doesn’t need to be told a goddamn thing; rids you of your shirt so Yoongi can mouth his way from your jaw to your neck, collarbones to chest, one nipple and then the next. Pleasure licks up your spine, outweighs how overwhelming it is to have Yoongi this geared-up, wound this tight; to have Taehyung’s hands roaming over every inch of skin his hyung doesn’t have his mouth on.

“Yoo-Yoongi,” you choke out, because this has really gone from zero to a hundred and he’s been pressing incessantly on your g-spot for too long to remain unaffected.

It’s building, building, building, and you’ve fully lost control of your hips, grinding against the heel of Yoongi’s palm like you’re desperate for it. (You are.) And Taehyung just laughs darkly, says, “Think she’s gonna come, hyung,” just to get under your skin.

“Mm, yeah. Might make a mess.” He slaps at your clit and that’s it, that’s what does it.

And Yoongi knows you, doesn’t he, because he knows how you like to get fucked. Knows to click his tongue at you, give you that disappointed look; knows to wipe your release on your thighs. Knows to barely let you catch your breath before he’s slipping on a condom and pushing inside of you.

After his fingers, the stretch from his cock feels dizzying. Feels on the edge of too much, and Taehyung’s commentary is doing fuck-all to help you come back to earth. Keeps saying shit like goddamn, hyung, yeah, fuck her like that. Maneuvers you so your back is pressed to his chest, now, your head on his shoulder, so Yoongi can slip his tongue into Taehyung’s mouth while he ruins you. It’s filthy, it’s so fucking filthy, and you think, selfishly, that a room won’t be big enough. You’d build Taehyung an entire goddamn house to keep it like this, to keep the three of you safe in this bubble.

“Imagine, hyung,” Taehyung starts, and you know what comes out of his mouth next is going to be nasty. Yoongi knows it, too, eyes starting to go glassy. A million constellations reflected as he looks at the two of you. “If we fucked her at the same time. Both of us in that tight pussy. Our cocks togeth—”

You’re not sure if the deafening moan comes from you or Yoongi. Either way, his hips falter, cadence reduced to stuttered thrusts as he tries desperately not to come just from Taehyung spewing more filth out of his devilish mouth. But you want to see it. Want to see what happens when he’s pushed to the brink of horny delirium, so you say—

“Do it.”

—and Yoongi has to stop altogether. Grips your hips so hard you know they’ll bruise, and you think, for a second, that he actually did come. Everything is quiet for a second, just more labored breathing, and then Yoongi picks his head up. Looks more fucked-out than you’ve ever seen him, even more than earlier, and looks straight at Taehyung.

“Put your fingers in her.”

Taehyung breathes harshly through his nose. Waits for you to nod, give him the okay, and then his hands leave your hair and skim down your body. They’re so warm, so large, cover so much skin that it truly feels like he’s everywhere, like it’s more than just him touching you. The closer he nears to your cunt, the more overpowering it is, the harder it is to breathe.

“Is this what you want, angel?” he asks, words warm on your skin as he presses them just below your ear. “You’re a greedy girl, getting hyung’s cock and my fingers.” He rubs circles into your clit, sends you spiraling. You’re dangerously close to a second orgasm (could be a third, could be a hundredth, considering Yoongi never let you come down from the first) and there’s a split-second right before he dips his fingers into your cunt, works them in alongside Yoongi’s cock, that you feel engulfed.

Everything is on fire.

You, most of all.

Taehyung sucks his fingers into his mouth, gets ‘em wet, works in slowly. Just his middle finger at first, and Yoongi falters again, moans out an oh fuuuck that betrays exactly how far gone he is. And you aren’t far behind, the stretch from both of them unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. You can’t imagine how it’d feel if it was more than just Taehyung’s fingers, except you can, and Taehyung notices when the thought has you clenching, has you a little wetter, because he laughs at you, tells Yoongi like he can’t tell on his own. Like your boyfriend is a little dumb, like he’s never fucked you before, and that does something to both of you.

One finger turns into two. Yoongi’s a fucking mess, absolutely gone of the feel of them inside you, against his cock, can’t stop moaning. The tight fit has Taehyung’s fingers pressed snug against your g-spot, exactly how Yoongi’s had been, and it’s too much. Too much.

“I’m, fuck—I’m gonna—”

When you come it feels like the end of the world. It feels like rapture. It feels like every atom in your body has been rearranged, like the gods themselves are rewarding you specifically with the sound of Yoongi following right behind you, moaning low and ragged, spilling into the condom.

In the comedown, he kisses you—soft, tender, with every iota of love and affection contained in him. “I love you,” he says. Presses another kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You okay?”

“Not sure,” you answer honestly. “Give me three to five business days to decide.”

Yoongi’s smile is shy, almost embarrassed. More gums than anything else. Behind you, the rumble of Taehyung’s laughter against your back, rattling your ribs. Rattling your heart, maybe, lodged safely between them.

It expands, makes more room—the one for Taehyung, that house—and Yoongi’s lips find Taehyung’s next and you know it’ll be okay. These two stupid boys, they’ll figure it out, put a cease fire to their foolish game.

Yeah, something inevitable.

as always, thank you for reading! my inbox is always open if you’d like to leave feedback. i’d love to hear your thoughts! ❤