#Let's make 2023 even more self-indulgent

[but-thats-its-own-love-story]

I posted 496 times in 2022

That's 115 more posts than 2021!

44 posts created (9%)

452 posts reblogged (91%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@letsgofoletsgo

@spinning-feeling

@newtsselfships

@shadxwthehedgehog

@lovinglywithyou

I tagged 491 of my posts in 2022

Only 1% of my posts had no tags

#imagine your f/o - 432 posts

#selfship imagines - 339 posts

#selfshipping - 75 posts

#oc f/o sophie - 50 posts

#oc f/o rina - 42 posts

#your f/o says - 36 posts

#oc f/o nettie - 27 posts

#oc f/o my pearl - 22 posts

#😳 - 16 posts

#dialogue prompts - 15 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#sally would try to wait outside but i'd convince her to sit with me on the bed let me braid her hair admit that maybe cuddles aren't so bad

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

If you've had a bad day,

Imagine Your F/O

whisking you away to spend the night with them.

Your F/O takes one look at you and stops dead in their tracks...

They turn on their heels,

and swiftly walk out of the room,

returning in short order with a big fluffly blanket...

"Permission to distract you?"

You nod,

and your F/O leans in and kisses you,

long and deep,

taking your breath away...

When they let you up for air,

you look up at them,

and they smile cheerfully back,

and promptly toss the blanket over your head...

If you weren't already flustered,

you certainly are now...

Then they sweep you off your feet,

literally,

and bridal carry you off to who knows where...

Well it's not all bad...

The blanket smells like your F/O,

and they're holding you right now,

and they can't see how much you're still blushing from that kiss earlier...

They put you down on something soft,

in a dimly lit room,

and crawl under the blanket with you...

They're so close,

and warm...

See the full post

199 notes - Posted August 18, 2022

#4

Imagine Your F/O

intent on spoiling you to an unreasonable extent after you've had a bad day.

(OR Imagine your S/I intent on spoiling your F/O to said unreasonable extent, but the text wouldn't really change enough to make two versions in this instance and the 'you being spoiled' post was more popular last time.)

(Also sorry I'm really touch starved right now so if you don't like hairplay, somewhat intimate sensory details (although nothing really explicit), or your F/O all over you, this might not be the (very long) imagine you're looking for.)

-"Welcome home, Darling~"

-"I can already tell today was bad, so how about we call 'today' officially over. Let's skip the couch tonight and get you straight into bed~"

-"Once you're safe in my arms, you can listen to me ramble about how I'm going to spend all of tomorrow spoiling you, until 'today' fades out into a warm and pleasant sleep~"

-"Don't worry if it's just for a short nap like last time. I just want your bad day to be over as soon as possible, and an excuse to hold you tightly in your soft, comfy pajamas and whisper sweet nothings in your ear until everything else just melts away~"

-"'Tomorrow' starts as soon as you wake up, and lasts as long as you need it to~ I'm fully prepared to spoil you until you feel better, no matter how long it takes~"

-"Oh I'm not exaggerating in the slightest. No. *strokes your hair* Matter. *strokes your hair* How. *strokes your hair* Long. *scoops you into a bridal carry* It. *wait, since when were you in your pajamas?* Takes~ *deep pressure of their hands on your back pulls you into their chest, as the familiar warmth of your weighted heating blanket makes your eyelids flutter* *strokes your hair*"

-"You think I'll get tired of caring for you? Oh Darling, my devotion is deep as the ocean~ Maybe even deeper, like your eyes~ You know, the ones I'd still be staring into right now, if they weren't getting too heavy to keep open~ *strokes your hair*"

-"You think you're not worth caring for? That's just the Bad Thoughts lying to you again... We'll see if they're still convincing after several days of me spoiling you literally every waking moment~ *strokes your hair*"

-"What about [chronic fatigue, or any other condition or aspect of your physical health that requires long-term care and will never go away]? I already said I'd never get tired of taking care of you, didn't I? That means for life. That includes tomorrow... *strokes your hair* and the tomorrow after that... *strokes your hair* and the tomorrow after that... *strokes your hair*"

-"Not enough spoons? I'll take care of it for you~ *strokes your hair* I'll keep track of any medication you need... *strokes your hair* make sure you stay hydrated... *strokes your hair* run you warm baths to ease your fatigue... *strokes your hair* get you on the spa table and give you slippery soap scrubs that feel like massages... *strokes your hair* wash your hair with your favorite scented lather... *strokes your hair* imagining that last one right now, aren't you~? *strokes your hair* give you actual massages... *strokes your hair*

-"What if you get so comfy you never want to get out of bed? Yeah I'm pretty sure you're well past half-asleep at this point~ *strokes your hair* Well, I'll build you a nice safe pillow fort to live in... *strokes your hair* with fairy lights and couch cushions so you can still nap on the couch even in bed... *strokes your hair* Looks like a new position just opened up for a professional weighted heating blanket tester... *strokes your hair* comes with unlimited hairplay *strokes your hair* *strokes your hair again to reinforce that last point* and nightly cuddle benefits... *strokes your hair* oh look, you're hired already... *strokes your hair* I'll cook all your favorite meals... *strokes your hair* serve them to you in bed... *strokes your hair* bring you [snacks, tea, books, games, etc]... *strokes your hair* carry you to the bathroom so you never technically have to get out of bed, even for that... *strokes your hair* make the bed for you, and change the sheets whenever they get messy while you're soaking in the tub... *strokes your hair* change you into fresh pajamas once you're basically a warm puddle... *strokes your hair* carry you back home to bed... *strokes your hair* then it's back to work... *strokes your hair* that weighted heating blanket isn't going to lull you to sleep by itself... *strokes your hair* you can sleep as long as you like... *strokes your hair* and when you wake up in my arms... *strokes your hair* it'll still be tomorrow... *strokes your hair* and I'll do it... *strokes your hair* All. *strokes your hair* Over. *strokes your hair* Again~ *strokes your hair* I love you. *strokes your hair* Forever... *strokes your hair* and ever... *strokes your hair* and... *strokes your hair*

-"...wait you actually heard all that? 😳 But I literally stroked your hair 45 times... You just wanted to say... you love me too...? 😳Oh. ☺️Oh... 🥰"

-"...and you're out like a light."

-"See you tomorrow~ *strokes your hair a 46th time*"

245 notes - Posted March 5, 2022

#3

Alternatively, if you'd prefer your F/O spoils you,

Imagine your F/O bringing you home like...

-Pulling you along by the hand like you're in a Ghibli movie up to their front door...

-Scooping you up and bridal carrying you inside...

-Plopping you down on the S/I Couch TM...

-"Welcome home! You live here now~ Make yourself comfortable~"

-"Here are some complimentary snacks and a weighted heating blanket~"

-"Your room's the 3rd door on the left. Don't worry, you'll actually be sleeping in my bed~"

-"Bathroom's at the end of the hall. I've already run a nice hot bath for you~"

-"While you take your bath, I'll cook you dinner~ Yes, I remember all your favorites~ Just leave it to me tonight~"

-"If you're feeling touch-starved, I'll happily give you a full-body massage after dinner~ Or we can just cuddle on the couch, if you prefer~"

-"Speaking of which, you're looking pretty tired already~ How about you take a little nap before your bath~? You can use my lap as a pillow~"

-"I'll be taking good care of you from now on~ Now let's turn on your heating blanket, and I'll stroke your hair until you get warm and sleepy~"

-"...Also I love you."

277 notes - Posted February 23, 2022

#2

Your F/O says "I love you,"

and also not to forget they wanna cuddle you later...

I think they mentioned dreaming about you? Like you were in their dreams last night? Or maybe it was like a daydream or something? Maybe they just think you're dreamy Idk... Anyway you should've seen the look on their face when your name came up... They totally had those little stars in their eyes... I'm telling you they're like head over heels for you...

278 notes - Posted August 26, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Imagine you're working on something in your room...

and you look over at your bed...

and your F/O is just lying there all comfortable in casual clothes...

maybe some loose-fitting shorts...

maybe your oversized hoodie...

you catch the corner of their eye...

and they look up and smile over at you...

maybe that's enough work for one night...

280 notes - Posted March 12, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[anantaru]

DAY 19 — EDGING

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

𖧡 — including — welt, dan heng

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, edging & orgasm denial, dom/sub dynamics, sprinkle of dacryphilia, rough and needy, kinda messy, mean dan heng alert

𖧡 — WELT

welt was evidently aware that he shouldn't torture you with repeatedly robbing your climax from you over and over again, until you sniffle between your moans, your eyes bloodshot and puffy from the intensity of another growing orgasm just dissolving from your aching frame— but you need to understand him, because you were just so sweet, ugh, so innocent and pure that it almost makes him feel bad for your current state.

because in reality, it didn't require welt much of work to form you into a frustrated mess of a person— your wet, warm cunt soaking his length and clamping down on him for the dear life of you, and in secret, it made him feel more wanted, more powerful and it thoroughly stroked his ego when you begged him to continue despite losing yet another blissful satisfaction.

"don't be like that," he mutters as you refuse to meet his gaze, and you unlatch the sobs hidden behind your frustration when he takes the chance to thrust into you again ever so slightly, ever so soft, and only distantly, with barely any strength behind and being aware that you must be exceedingly reactive to his every movements right now.

"look at me," welt whispers, mouthing a wet kiss on your bottom lip before looping one hand around your knee to spread you further apart as he grinds himself closer, even better, drinking in the moans that fell straight in his mouth as your hands tightened their grip on his biceps.

fuck, you just cannot be mad at welt, it's futile, not when he hums appreciatively the moment you accept his gaze, his hips thrusting back and forth as you jolt your little cunt up to match his movements, your clit buzzing with need to be given attention next, whining against his lips as he mumbles once again;

"i'll give it to you this time, i promise."

𖧡 — DAN HENG

"hold on, love, hold on," the expanding warmth of dan heng's weight leaning on top of you was bulging into the puffiness of your cunt as he nibbles on your earlobe, deliciously experiencing how you're spreading yourself for him, "you're not there yet."

your boyfriend seemed to have become utterly maniacal in your eyes and you frustratedly furrow your brows before gnawing back a bubbling moan when he slides himself back inside— dan heng has been playing with you for hours now, so strong and reckless that endless tears had began to form and cling to your lashes as every square of your body felt like someone has set you on fire.

"it hurts," you complain, blinking repeatedly to get rid of the blur before desperately squeezing your hips up at him, as if that would somehow change dan heng's plans for you, "i know, i know," he feigns the sense of understanding you and the perception of actually feeling sorry, "but you're doing so good right now, and you're almost there," and he'd even feel a little guiltier if your whines weren't this delicious to indulge in, not to mention the harsh clamps of your creamy hole constricting around his girth like that, before letting go again and fluttering over the fullness while milking him with your hot, wet warmth.

adding another sharp and calculated thrust, the stretch of dan heng's girth piercing over you was beginning to feel surreal, listlessly holding back the air in your lungs as you cry out at the sudden overstimulation catching your body by surprise as dan heng fucked you silly, the force of his raw drags pressing you into the drenched mattress that your head was beginning to spiral— each rut of his dripping erection beckoning your mouth to gape open in a broken consonance of whines and pitched up moans only for him to drink in.

alas, the man wasn't done with you yet, he might as well just lied to you earlier, and the buzzing ache in his groin wouldn't hold him back on edging your poor, little self as much as possible, not before dan heng would grace you with the most intense, most intoxicating climax you have ever experienced— so you wouldn't be too mad at him afterwards.

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The Coprophagic AI crisis

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in TORONTO on Mar 22, then with LAURA POITRAS in NYC on Mar 24, then Anaheim, and more!

A key requirement for being a science fiction writer without losing your mind is the ability to distinguish between science fiction (futuristic thought experiments) and predictions. SF writers who lack this trait come to fancy themselves fortune-tellers who SEE! THE! FUTURE!

The thing is, sf writers cheat. We palm cards in order to set up pulp adventure stories that let us indulge our thought experiments. These palmed cards – say, faster-than-light drives or time-machines – are narrative devices, not scientifically grounded proposals.

Historically, the fact that some people – both writers and readers – couldn't tell the difference wasn't all that important, because people who fell prey to the sf-as-prophecy delusion didn't have the power to re-orient our society around their mistaken beliefs. But with the rise and rise of sf-obsessed tech billionaires who keep trying to invent the torment nexus, sf writers are starting to be more vocal about distinguishing between our made-up funny stories and predictions (AKA "cyberpunk is a warning, not a suggestion"):

https://www.antipope.org/charlie/blog-static/2023/11/dont-create-the-torment-nexus.html

In that spirit, I'd like to point to how one of sf's most frequently palmed cards has become a commonplace of the AI crowd. That sleight of hand is: "add enough compute and the computer will wake up." This is a shopworn cliche of sf, the idea that once a computer matches the human brain for "complexity" or "power" (or some other simple-seeming but profoundly nebulous metric), the computer will become conscious. Think of "Mike" in Heinlein's *The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress":

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Moon_Is_a_Harsh_Mistress#Plot

For people inflating the current AI hype bubble, this idea that making the AI "more powerful" will correct its defects is key. Whenever an AI "hallucinates" in a way that seems to disqualify it from the high-value applications that justify the torrent of investment in the field, boosters say, "Sure, the AI isn't good enough…yet. But once we shovel an order of magnitude more training data into the hopper, we'll solve that, because (as everyone knows) making the computer 'more powerful' solves the AI problem":

https://locusmag.com/2023/12/commentary-cory-doctorow-what-kind-of-bubble-is-ai/

As the lawyers say, this "cites facts not in evidence." But let's stipulate that it's true for a moment. If all we need to make the AI better is more training data, is that something we can count on? Consider the problem of "botshit," Andre Spicer and co's very useful coinage describing "inaccurate or fabricated content" shat out at scale by AIs:

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=4678265

"Botshit" was coined last December, but the internet is already drowning in it. Desperate people, confronted with an economy modeled on a high-speed game of musical chairs in which the opportunities for a decent livelihood grow ever scarcer, are being scammed into generating mountains of botshit in the hopes of securing the elusive "passive income":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/15/passive-income-brainworms/#four-hour-work-week

Botshit can be produced at a scale and velocity that beggars the imagination. Consider that Amazon has had to cap the number of self-published "books" an author can submit to a mere three books per day:

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2023/sep/20/amazon-restricts-authors-from-self-publishing-more-than-three-books-a-day-after-ai-concerns

As the web becomes an anaerobic lagoon for botshit, the quantum of human-generated "content" in any internet core sample is dwindling to homeopathic levels. Even sources considered to be nominally high-quality, from Cnet articles to legal briefs, are contaminated with botshit:

https://theconversation.com/ai-is-creating-fake-legal-cases-and-making-its-way-into-real-courtrooms-with-disastrous-results-225080

Ironically, AI companies are setting themselves up for this problem. Google and Microsoft's full-court press for "AI powered search" imagines a future for the web in which search-engines stop returning links to web-pages, and instead summarize their content. The question is, why the fuck would anyone write the web if the only "person" who can find what they write is an AI's crawler, which ingests the writing for its own training, but has no interest in steering readers to see what you've written? If AI search ever becomes a thing, the open web will become an AI CAFO and search crawlers will increasingly end up imbibing the contents of its manure lagoon.

This problem has been a long time coming. Just over a year ago, Jathan Sadowski coined the term "Habsburg AI" to describe a model trained on the output of another model:

https://twitter.com/jathansadowski/status/1625245803211272194

There's a certain intuitive case for this being a bad idea, akin to feeding cows a slurry made of the diseased brains of other cows:

https://www.cdc.gov/prions/bse/index.html

But "The Curse of Recursion: Training on Generated Data Makes Models Forget," a recent paper, goes beyond the ick factor of AI that is fed on botshit and delves into the mathematical consequences of AI coprophagia:

https://arxiv.org/abs/2305.17493

Co-author Ross Anderson summarizes the finding neatly: "using model-generated content in training causes irreversible defects":

https://www.lightbluetouchpaper.org/2023/06/06/will-gpt-models-choke-on-their-own-exhaust/

Which is all to say: even if you accept the mystical proposition that more training data "solves" the AI problems that constitute total unsuitability for high-value applications that justify the trillions in valuation analysts are touting, that training data is going to be ever-more elusive.

What's more, while the proposition that "more training data will linearly improve the quality of AI predictions" is a mere article of faith, "training an AI on the output of another AI makes it exponentially worse" is a matter of fact.

Name your price for 18 of my DRM-free ebooks and support the Electronic Frontier Foundation with the Humble Cory Doctorow Bundle.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/14/14/inhuman-centipede#enshittibottification

Image: Plamenart (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Double_Mobius_Strip.JPG

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

[sailoryooons]

BOONGI REQUEST THE SEQUEL !!! honeymooning with yoongi and your trip is a little too richly scheduled considering how horny you both are.... leads to fucking in some interesting places 🙈

❀ Pairing: Yoongi x f. reader

❀ Summary: Your tropical honeymoon is planned down to the very minute to get the most out of your trip but it seems that Yoongi has plans of throwing off your itinerary every time his hands touch you. 

❀ Word Count: 4,355

❀ Genre: Established relationship, pwp

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Absolutely self-indulgent and gratuitous smut, literally this is the most porn without plot I have ever done, explicit language, explicit sexual content including unprotected vaginal sex, fucking from behind, semi-public fucking, light degredation, oral (m. and f. receiving), riding Yoongi, fucking from behind, face sitting, throat fucking, a lot of cum and spit and holes, Yoongi and reader fuck in public spaces where they cannot be seen a lot, temperature place, use of ice (please do not ever take ice from a random ice bucket and put it in your partners vagina, this is fiction and it was handy but do not do that lmao), cum swallowing and cum eating when you squint. 

❀ Published: August 9, 2023

❀ A/N: This is sort of a part two? You do not have to read the first request to read this one, they are easily read separately. Thanks for giving me an excuse to just write porn. There literally is nothing here but porn, I don’t even know if they have chemistry, but they fucking. Honestly I had to cut scenes out of this because I also imagined the infinity pool moment and so many other moments because M and I are fucking insane and ruminate on this shit, but at one point it was just… getting longer and I was RUNNING OUT OF WORDS FOR DICK AND COCK AND I HATE THE WORD DICK IN SMUT IF FEELS NOT VERY SEXY. Okay. Here is my ode to the love of my life, M. This somehow made me more insane.

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Part One | Masterlist | Ask | Hali’s Happy Agust | Listen Along |

“Come on,” You murmur, lips pressed against Yoongi’s warm forehead. “We have a breakfast reservation at that place we talked about.” 

A deep groan rumbles through Yoongi’s chest. It’s dark in the bedroom of your resort, the lights still off and the sliding glass door window still shuttered. Your newly wed is tangled in white sheets, face pressed against the pillow and swollen with sleep. You bite your bottom lip to hide your smile as he buries his face deeper into the pillow.

It’s tropical warm in the room, your skin still heated from the sun the day before. Yoongi’s cheeks are sun-kissed blossom, bottom lip jutted out as he pouts. You think about the night before, biting that bottom lip hard as you came around him in the shower, cold water pebbling on hot skin. 

Sighing, you climb onto him, knees on either side of his waist as you sit. His chest is flushed and warm as you lean down, dress riding up your thighs as you press your forehead to the side of his head. His hair is messy, an inky halo around him as he lets out a sound again, very close to whining. 

Yoongi smells like coconut shampoo and palm breeze. It makes your stomach flip having him this close to you, flashes of the night before making your already sore thighs twitch. Ignoring your more carnal urges, you nudge him with your nose, huffing. Sliding your hands around to the back of his neck, you thread your fingers through his silky hair, holding him there. 

“Don’t you want breakfast?” you ask, hoping the promise of food will lure him from bed.

Yoongi is fully awake now. “Mhmm.” 

Yoongi frees his hands from the sheets and places them on your thighs, squeezing. His hands are warm and callused, sparking a curl of pleasure in you as he rubs them up and down your legs. It’s an innocent touch, but your thoughts turn devious. 

When Yoongi’s hands trace to the round curve of your ass to grab a handful of flesh, you let out a breathy sound and tighten your grip on his hair. He hisses in appreciation, hips twitching off the bed as you growl, “What are you doing?”

Yoongi turns his head to face you, your foreheads pressed together as he bumps your nose with his. “I don’t need to leave for breakfast,” he murmurs, breath hot against your lips as he talks. His right hand gives you a playful crack on the ass, making you squeak as the sweet sting riles you up, your knees squeezing his waist. “I can eat right here.”

His hands are firm, fingers dimpling your rear end as he pulls you against his stomach and rolls your hips. Your eyes flutter shut at the barely-there friction, Yoongi lifting himself up a little to help you grind against him. 

“Yoongi.” 

The chastisement is nothing more than half of a breath, already feeling arousal curl in your stomach. Your thighs stretch painfully from the night before, a feel-good burn that makes you spread your legs a little wider to feel the pleasurable strain. 

“Come on,” Yoongi grunts. “Girl breakfast.”

“That’s not what that meme means.”

“Who gives a fuck. Sit on my face.”

Ignoring him is impossible. Yoongi’s hands palm your ass, pulling you forward. On unsteady knees, you shuffle up from his waist to his face, lifting the hem of your dress as you go. Yoongi hums appreciatively, slipping a hand between your legs to press his fingers against your clothed pussy. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, the stimulation jolting. “We have an itinerary.”

“Fuck the itinerary. You were going to go to breakfast like this?” he asks, slipping a finger under your underwear, swiping through your dripping folds. “All wet and sticky?” 

You whine, fists tightening in the fabric of your dress. He drags a curled knuckle up and down your pussy, pressing into your clit purposefully as he does, making your hips swivel a little. Yoongi laughs underneath you, mouth hot on your thighs as he leaves sloppy kisses, air cooling his spit on your skin as he goes.

There’s no escaping this. Any desire you had to go to breakfast with a view of the beach is gone as Yoongi nips at the tender flesh of your inner thighs, your legs trembling in anticipation. Yoongi is so good at this, making you bend to his will with just a few words and guiding hands. 

Yoongi’s breath is hot on your center as he peels your underwear to the side. You look down at him, pressing your dress flat to give you the perfect view. His dark eyes are focused on your cunt, his lips bubble gum pink, tongue darting out to wet them. His hair is fanned out around him, some pressed to his forehead. 

Smirking, Yoongi uses one hand to pull you forward, lowering you to his mouth. You hold your breath as he drags his tongue slowly from your leaking entrance to just below your clit before rolling licking back down, ignoring your bundle of nerves entirely. Your toes curl, immediately going white hot at the slow feeling of his tongue dragging through your folds. 

“Oh,” you sigh, eyes shutting as Yoongi hums and repeats the motion, determined to take his time. 

With one hand wrapped in your dress, you lean forward, pressing the other hand against the wall to keep you upright. You hang your head down, heady-heavy, eyes falling shut as you heave shuddering breaths.

Yoongi’s tongue is wicked, laving up and down experimentally as you shake on top of him. He hums appreciatively, pulling you down to his mouth further by your ass. A sharp moan escapes you when he fastens his mouth to you, sucking your clit gently. The suction makes your head spin, your skin over warm and tingling, feeling faint in the dark room.

“Shit,” you pant, listening to him make a mess of you, all wet smacks and happy hums. “Fuck, Yoongi.”

“Mhmm,” he agrees. “Girl breakfast. Or is it wife breakfast?”

You’re too busy rolling your hips gently against Yoongi’s face to shoot something smart back, lost in the rough drag of his tongue against your cunt, the buzz of his mouth when he hums. You feel the way your stomach tightens, the way that pressure in your core builds, the tensing thighs. 

The sweet, saturated sound of Yoongi’s mouth backtracks your whines, your fist pressed against the wall, knuckles popping with the force. Sweat slicks down the back of your neck and your thighs tremble as you fuck his mouth in earnest, hips flexing.

It feels hot in the room, your dress sticking to your skin, panties stretched to the side as Yoongi has his way with you. The strap of your dress falls down, abandoned as you quiver, your shoes and purse long forgotten by the door as you start to come undone.

“Come on,” Yoongi pants against your pussy, tongue prodding your throbbing hole. You squirm at the feeling, wanting more. “Breakfast is supposed to have juice too.”

Your laugh sounds hysteric, closer to a high-pitched cry than anything. Yoongi is vicious, pressing his nose to your clit as his tongue fucks your entrance, drinking you in. You’re dizzy, ears ringing as your orgasm mounts. You start to tense up, teeth clenched, fingers pressed numb against the wall.

Eyes shut, head back, balmy skin, you come hard in his mouth, Yoongi’s tongue pressed against you, not missing a drop. You feel fuzzy drunk, letting Yoongi control your hips. He moves you against his mouth, bobbing his lead as he slurps, dropping staccato mhmms as he goes. 

When you’re falling into his lap, skin sweaty and panting, Yoongi sits up, the lower half of his face shining with your slick. He licks his lips, grinning like the cat that ate the canary. “Thanks for the meal,” he teases. “I want more.”

-

A high-pitched zing whines through the air, drawing your attention to look at the fishing rod on the back of the boat. The reel spins out of control as the line runs wild, handle circling as the fish on the hooked fish runs wild with the line. 

“Yoongi,” you gasp, turning back to him. 

“Fuck the reel,” he growls, fingertips pressing into your hips hard enough throb.

The vinyl cover of the boat seat is slippery with sunscreen, sweat and a little cum. Sun heats your bare back. The burn on your shoulders is nothing to the fiery arousal spooling in your stomach as Yoongi pulls you up by the hips, dragging you along his slick cock.

It’s a calm day on the water, the only motion coming from the way you roll your hips, fucking Yoongi in earnest on the bow of the boat. Blue water glitters around you, reflecting the sun back up toward a cloudless, azure sky.

Salty wind cools the back of your neck as you throw your head back, gasping when Yoongi presses a thumb to your clit, circling slowly. The gentle lapping of the water against the hull is drowned out by the wet slap of your ass on Yoongi’s pelvis, already soaked from your first orgasm.

Your second high blazes through you hotter than the beaming sun. Yoongi growls between gritted teeth, his grip savage as he helps you fuck him. Up down, up down, up down. His chest is flushed and raked with angry red nail marks.

Fishing plans long forgotten, you continue to ride him, the feel of Yoongi’s cock stomach-deep, your walls gripping him tight as you race toward another orgasm. It feels so good, your knees slipping as the boat bobs under you, the up and down motion aiding the way you glide on his dick. 

“Just like that,” Yoongi moans, head tossed back, hair damp and sweaty. He’s worked up, a beat of sweat dripping down his tan neck, jaw flexing as he tries to stop himself from coming. “Use me just like that, baby.” 

And you do, the tip of his dick brushing your g-spot every time you slide down, working your closer and closer until you’re seated in his lap, cock pushed to the deepest parts of you while you come hard around him.

Yoongi waits for you to come down for your high, post-orgasm twitching and panting before he pins you to his chest and holds you while fucking up into you a few more times before he clenches his teeth and comes.

Hot and spent, you both melt into one another, skin sliding against skin as you lay on his chest. He softens inside of you and you become hyper aware of the slide of your mixed juices dripping from your folds and running down your leg. You don’t care, closing your eyes as you inhale deeply.

Eventually, Yoongi lifts his head to peer over your shoulder. You turn around to see that the line has broken on the road and Yoongi laughs, sounding exhausted.

“Fuck it,” he sighs, laying his head back down and tightening his hold on you. “I don’t care.”

-

“My wife is such a little slut,” Yoongi grins, leaning against the sink as you take him further into your mouth. “You love having a mouthful of cock, don’t you?”

Looking up at Yoongi with wide, teary eyes, you hum the affirmative. Dark blush creeps up his neck, his skin visible where the top button of his white shirt is undone. He looks to die for tonight, with his long, dark hair slicked back and just touching his shoulders, a white short-sleeved button up, and dark pants. 

And you? You looked nice earlier, but now your dress is messy with sand from the bathroom floor, mascara running down you face as you swallow around your husbands cock, feeling your throat tighten as you force yourself to the limits. 

You’d at least manage to pay the bill before dragging him into the palm-textured bathroom and dropping to your knees, ignoring the way stray grains of sand from the beachside restaurant burn your knees in favor of taking him into your mouth.

Yoongi slouches against the sink, his shoulders pressed into the mirror as he closes his eyes and angles his head back. You take him further into your mouth, letting spit escape the sides and run down your chin, working what you can’t fit with your hand. Your wedding ring flashes in the low light and drives you mad, loving the way the diamond looks on your hand while it’s wrapped around him. 

You’re ravenous tonight, staring up at him with clenching thighs, watching the way Yoongi unravels. Pulling back, you pop off of him, strings of spit and precum connecting the brown tip of his cock to your lips. You break it, leaning forward to run your tongue along the frenulum of his cock, earning a whine from him.

Grinning, you continue your assault, dragging your tongue down the thick vein on the underside of his cock until you reach his balls, giving a teasing lick that makes his hips cant off the sink.

“Don’t fucking tease me,” he warns. “I fucked you the way you asked for three times today, baby. Don’t I deserve to cum in that pretty little mouth?”

“Yeah?” you ask, pumping him with your hand as you come back up. “Want to come in my mouth?”

Yoongi’s hand shoots to the back of your head, fingers squeezing your skull. It’s not painful, but it’s firm, making you grin up at him, delighted. “Okay then,” you agree, tightening your fist on him a little more, pumping him a little fast. “Fuck my throat.”

You don’t have to tell him twice. Yoongi’s grip on the back of your head stays solid, a comforting feeling as you get a little dizzy from the way he looks down at you, eyes fathomless. Starving. He uses his other hand to prop himself against the sink before he drives his cock into your mouth.

The slide is rough and messy. You flatten your tongue and open up the back of your throat, the sound of you choking wetly around him drowning out the hiss of air between his teeth. You breathe through your nose, your hands gripping his thighs and digging your nails in hard into his flexing thighs.

Absently, you wonder if anyone walking by can hear the gurgle of your mouth, the stilted grunts as he flexes his hips.

Throat burning, eyes stinging and dripping tears, you let Yoongi go wild until he’s coming deep down your throat, a hot and thick mess. He pulls out gently, letting you gasp for air, mouth swollen and sticky as you pant.

Yoongi pulls you up from your knees, holding you tight as you lose your balance. His grip is crushing and he smashes his lips to yours, licking into your mouth to taste the mix of cum and spit, hungry for it.

When he pulls away, his lips are pink and slick and his chest is heaving.

“We’re going to miss that concert I bought tickets for,” you complain, giving him a pout.

“Fuck that concert, we’re going back to the hotel room and I’m going to fuck you for the next three hours, baby.”

-

Admittedly, hiking wasn’t the best event on your itinerary. When you’d planned the adventure originally, you hadn’t accounted for the fact that your legs would be near unusable from days of Yoongi folding you in half to drill into you, or the fact that the jungle is, in fact, hot and humid.

Yoongi walks next to you, his thumbs tucked into the straps of his backpack as he goes. His hair is pulled up into a bun, a few loose strands sticking to his sweaty forehead. He hasn’t complained once since starting the uphill trek through the trees and sifting sand, though you can tell he’s also spent from his inability to stop touching you this entire trip.

But you really want to attempt to get to a single thing on your itinerary for this trip, and the ruins will be out of the question tomorrow when it rains. So, you persist, legs wobbling as you high up the path, shirt sticking to you and scent of sunscreen following you like a coconut cloud.

“You’re sure we’re going the right way?” Yoongi askes, looking up at the gleaming sun filtering between branches. “We haven’t seen a single person.”

“There’s steps, aren’t there?” you ask, gesturing to the path. “There’s ruins that aren’t as much of a climb that everyone prefers. Plus, it’s hot as shit. I wanted to see the good ones though.”

“Anything for you.” 

A few more minutes pass before Yoongi sees you lagging a little. The burn in your thighs is real, remembering acutely the way Yoongi had pressed them to your chest last night as he fucked you slow and deep. The memory makes you shiver, a post-orgasm twitch still haunting you an entire day later.

“Come on,” Yoongi urges. “It’s flat up here, we can step off the path and take a break.”

Yoongi finds some broken trees that have fallen sideways to sit on. You’re grateful, taking deep gulps of water. It immediately cools you down and you close your eyes, rolling your shoulders. Yoongi guzzles down water next to you, his arm pressed up against your.

After a few minutes sitting, you get up and turn to face the fallen tree, bending over at the waist to lean against it in a deep lunge, stretching your hamstrings. It’s a soothing sort of pain, the extension of muscle a relief. 

Yoongi looks at maps on his phone behind you, waiting as you you switch legs and arch your spine, feeling a few joints pop in release. It feels good and you sigh, letting the tension bleed out of you.

Hands find your ass, gentle and curious. You look over your shoulder to find Yoongi looking at you with his brows raised and head tilted. A question. You know he’ll back off immediately if you shoo him away. Instead, You burst into laughter and shake your head, “Seriously?”

“What?” 

You stare at him. He looks delicious, sweat dripping down his Adam’s apple, hair pulled back. He’s dressed simply and yet, looking at him looking at you, wanting you the way that he does makes you vibrate. It doesn’t matter how many times you have him, you always want him more. And again.

You married Yoongi for a myriad of reasons. Because he is gentle and kind, because you like the way he takes his coffee and reads the paper in the morning, because you like that he uses mint shampoo, because you like that he has to line his shoes up perfectly next to the door. 

Everything about him enchants you, and you’re over the moon to have someone who doesn’t shame you for your carnal desires, that you have someone who matches the energy, who can take it and give it to you anywhere you want. 

Yoongi is the perfect balance, always knowing when to initiate, always knowing when it's a good time.

“I know that look,” he smiles. “Now you’re thinking about it.”

“Can you be quick? I don’t want someone to stumble on us.”

“Fuck yeah I can,” he promises, dropping his backpack and popping the zipper on his pants. You let out a pathetic sound at the sight, earning a smug look from Yoongi. 

Yoongi peels your legs and underwear down to your knees, just enough to get access to you but also safe enough to pull them up quickly if you need. His clothed chest presses against your back as he leans forward, wrapping his arms around your middle in what seems like an innocent hug.

You gasp as the tip of his cock breaches your entrance, the stretch a little painful with no prep. It doesn’t matter, though. He pushes in slowly, letting you get used to it until he’s pressed in to the hilt, your pussy fluttering around him. 

“I love you,” Yoongi whispers, pressing butterfly soft kisses to your cheek and temple. He starts thrusting shallowly, stealing your breath away. “You are my perfect, beautiful, wonderful wife.”

“Fuuuck,” you whisper. Yoongi isn’t fucking around, making his thrust precision perfect, pressing that soft spot inside of you. Your thighs are pressed together, making the fit even tighter, feeling him even more. “You’re just saying that cause I’m letting you fuck me against a tree.”

“Untrue, I say this all the time.”

That’s fair. Yoongi does tell you that he loves you. More often now than he used to, more verbal than his little utterances of love by readying your coffee long before you were awake in the morning or picking up the things you were missing from your pantry on the way home. 

“You’re right,” you pant, head lolling to the side as his mouth seeks the heat of your throat. “I love you too”

The tree bark bites into your hand as you take him fully. With the way your legs are pressed together and the angle that you’re standing, it feels like Yoongi is punching to the very core of you, making the world spin. You think you might collapse over the tree if he weren’t holding you up. 

“You’re just saying that cause I’m fucking you against a tree.”

You can’t help but laugh, despite the fact that Yoongi picks up the pace, fucking you hard and with purpose. His hand slips between your legs, finding your clit and pinching it lightly, making you squeal and twitch. He laughs, choosing to circle it instead, working you faster toward an orgasm as he pounds into you, punching the breath from your lungs. 

Sex with him is different every time. You don’t know how you manage to never get tired of it, but it never feels the same. Not with him. Every time feels like you’re discovering something new, 

When you do come, you suddenly feel like you can run the rest of the way up to the ruins, energized on the endorphins alone. 

“I’ve heard of post nut clarity,” Yoongi jokes, tucking his cock back into his pants. “But never post nut energy.”

“It’s like a second wind.”

“Dickened wind.” 

You glare at him, tossing his backpack to him. “Stick to writing songs, not jokes.”

-

“You’re so fucking swollen,” Yoongi groans, thumbs peeling apart your folds. “Cute.”

You let out a shaky laugh, your face pressed down into the pillows of the daybed, ass up in the air with Yoongi behind you. The sound of the pool and anyone beyond the closed curtains of the banana are muted by the tropical music of the DJ. All the better to drown out the sound of your husband spitting onto your exposed heat. 

“Cause you’ve been fucking me insane all week,” you protest, body vibrating. Yoongi hums thoughtfully but doesn’t say anything, letting his spin trail slowly down your slit. You’re already wet from the way his greedy mouth sucked at your chest. “Baby, please. I want your mouth.”

“Yeah? You all hot and bothered?”

“Yes.”

“Let me cool you off.” 

Yoongi’s hands leave your ass for a moment. You’re too overheated from days in the sun and the rising tropical temperature to look at what he’s doing. You’re in a slow daze, a little buzzed from sweet drinks and Yoongi’s mouth, from sloppy kisses that taste like strawberry and Yoongi’s cute little sunburn on his ass from falling asleep after letting you drive him insane with your mouth on the private balcony the day before. 

Now, you hear the clicking of something moving around the ice bucket. Your brows furrow and you’re about to turn your head to look at what Yoongi is doing when you feel ice cold water slow drip onto your ass. 

“Shit,” you hiss, grabbing the edge of the daybed and arching your spin. The water is a cool burn, a relief that drives you mad as he makes a pleased sound. “Ohhh fuck, again.”

“More?”

“Fuck yeah.”

There’s the sound of more ice and Yoongi is dripping the cold water on your ass again, making your lower spine tingle and toes curl. The cold drips move closer to your cunt until he’s directly over your clenching hole. The shock of cold against hot sends you into a frenzy. You wiggle your ass back and forth, asking for more, eager for it. 

Yoongi has never been one to deny you. This time, you feel his lips around an ice cube, dragging his cold kiss over the swells of your ass, letting the ice melt on his tongue before lapping at your pussy, tongue cold against your dripping heat. 

It drives you mad. Your fingers ache with the way you clutch the pillows, pressing your face hard into the daybed as Yoongi does this a few times, bringing his cold lips to mouth hungrily at you until it’s all he’s focused on, forgetting the ice in favor of sucking greedily at your clit. 

Your spine feels like it might crack, bowed dangerously as you press back into his face. He moans at your eagerness, tongue twisting between your folds as eats you out in earnest. If it weren’t for the privacy curtains and the DJ booth, you’d never get away with this. Yoongi is not quiet, smacking his lips like a glutton. 

Air escapes you. You squeeze your eyes shut as an orgasm bears down on you. Your face is pressed so far in the cushions that you don’t think you can breathe, your lungs contracting and your chest squeezing as you come on his tongue without warning, a silent scream raging through you.

Stars burst behind your eyes. Yoongi takes it in stride, licking you long and slow as you remain rigid for the duration of your high. When it finally begins to subside, you fall to the side, sprawling boneless and feeling drunk.

“Holy shit,” you croak, voice gone. “You were right. Fuck the itinerary. This is so much better.”

[garfinkelstingle]

Hi! I absolutely love your fics, could you do a fake insta fic with timothee? The face claim being Rachel Zegler with she/her pronouns. Thanks!

pairing: timothee chalamet x fem!reader

a/n: nonnie there is no excuse as to why this took me so long apart from the fact that i was in a slump... but now i am (sorta) not! i hope you guys like it and have a great day & week xxx (also some of these "posts" are very self-indulgent AND i'm going to the eras tour twice next year so i'm just so excited aaahhhh!!!!!!)

masterlist

yourinstagram

liked by tchalamet, florencepugh and 2,391,382 others

yourinstagram miscast23 gala!! loved every second of it (and not just because i felt like a million bucks in this dress)

view all 328,382 comments

tchalamet how are you real???

*liked by yourinstagram

tchalamet like i'm serious it should be illegal to be this good-looking my gOd

yourinstagram babe stfu 😭

yourfan36 THEYRE SO CUTE WHAT

yourfan89 mommy? sorry, mommy?

haileesteinfeld hot stuff

yourinstagram 🫶🏼🫶🏼

tchalamet

liked by yourinstagram, zendaya and 1,382,932 others

tchalamet felt cute, won't delete later cause my girlfriend won't let me

view all 129,239 comments

timmyfan16 as she should(n't?)

yourinstagram can you blame me????

*liked by tchalamet

timmyfan38 y/n better be prepared to fight because d a m n

zendaya looking fine mr

*liked by tchalamet

timmyfan29 thanks for this blessing

yourinstagram

liked by tchalamet, taylorswift and 3,248,422 others

yourinstagram ERAS TOUR BABY!!!!!!! thanks for all the friendship bracelets guys <3333

view all 831,321 comments

swiftie13 y/n being a swiftie will forever be my favorite thing about her

tchalamet miss americana

yourinstagram & her heartbreak prince

yourfan78 im literally so jealous i couldn get tickets rip

timmyfan62 I WAS AT THE SAME SHOW I SAW Y/N AND TIMMY DANCING AND SINGING THROUGHOUT THE WHOLE SET it was insane

yournamenews

liked by yourfan92 and 28,492 others

yournamenews Y/N via her Instagram story yesterday

view all 1,382 comments

yourfan73 she's so insane for this 😭😭

yourfan15 i thought this was fake at first but she even put it in her highlight????

timmyfan39 wish i had someone who looked at me the way timmy looks at y/n ughhh

yourfan26 oh we're being fed fed

yourinstagram

liked by dylanobrienfp, tchalamet and 5,218,329 others

yourinstagram breaking news: dylan o'brien spotted with fan

view all 1,323,429 comments

yourfan27 she's just like me fr

tchalamet we took pictures too?? why didnt you post them???

yourinstagram because you have yet to star in teen wolf silly

sadiesink ❤️

*liked by yourinstagram

timmyfan98 the fact that my two (three) faves had dinner together yesterday has done more for my mental health than my parents ever did

yourfan36 not y/n being a teen wolf girlie too omg

tchalamet

liked by yourinstagram, tomholland2013 and 2,492,449 others

tchalamet captionless

view all 52,443 comments

timmyfan26 it's the hand in the hairs for me

yourfan18 not y/n liking this the second he posted it my PARENTS

yourinstagram actual loml (maybe show your face next time so i dont feel so weird for saying that)

tchalamet so you DO only want me for my looks huh??

yourinstagram actually your bank account is a slightly bigger selling point 🤭

timmyfan15 this picture has no right to make me feel the way it does

yourinstagram

liked by tchalamet, haileesteinfeld and 4,238,329 others

yourinstagram oscars 2023 screaming crying punch me in the face?????? MY SPIDEY TINGLE IS STILL IN OVERDRIVE

view all 983,328 comments

tchalamet what's it with you and posting pictures with strikingly handsome men???

yourinstagram i would post you more if one of us didn't look like a fart in every single one of our pictures

tchalamet more wallpapers for me ig

*liked by yourinstagram

andrewfan84 MY TWO BABIES INTERACTED AAHHH

yourfan92 spiderman stan's really won today huh

tomholland2013 you never seem this excited to see me 🥲

yourinstagram ily to the moon and to saturn tom but,,, it's the AMAZING SPIDERMAN

*liked by tomholland2013

tchalamet

liked by yourinstagram, florencepugh and 3,492,294 others

tchalamet this is MY goofball girlfriend, whom i love almost as much as i love her dog. thanks for coming to my ted-talk.

view all 383,327 comments

yourinstagram you're so unserious for this what???

yourinstagram i do love u though and i'm even ok with you loving me less than rosco bc i will never love a human being more than i love that dog xxx

tchalamet 💔💔💔

timmyfan64 i love them sm

oliviarodrigo loving the rosco content yes!!!!

*liked by yourinstagram, tchalamet

yourfan87 if i'm not invited to the wedding i would 110% understand it but please invite me to the wedding

yourinstagram

liked by tchalamet, chrisevans and 7,324,432 others

yourinstagram how do u like the new haircut???

view all 1,483,432 comments

yourfan52 excuse me WHAT

yourfan98 i think i officially died and went to heaven

tchalamet personally i think that the earrings are the highlight of this picture

yourinstagram really? i feel like the painting of a square in the back makes my eyes pop

timmyfan25 what are they even talking about at this point???

florencepugh loving the chop!

*liked by yourinstagram

selenagomez cuties

yourinstagram 💖

yourfan83 adopt me pls i'm not even joking at this point

[ringsofsaturnnnn]

— [🪐] ·˚ ༘ ✎ pancakes

a.arlert x fem!reader

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 :: sweet boy makes you pancakes <3

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨(𝘴) :: female reader, pet names, it’s implied that armin & the reader slept together but there’s no actual smut

𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦 :: saturn writes fluff?! this was a quick little drabble before i went to bed because i’m really craving pancakes for some reason 😭. this is completely self indulgent and not proofread (which may explain why it makes no sense ☠️) maybe i’ll rewrite this when i’m in a more awake state of mind.

© 2023 ringsofsaturn | please don't copy or repost my works! i have not given permission to anyone to repost my works. reblogs/comments/likes are okay!

𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥

tag list :: n/a

armin chuckled as he pressed a loving kiss to your forehead. his pretty girl was fast asleep on their shared bed, a result of the fun they had previously had together. running his fingers up your arm, he couldn’t help but press another gentle kiss to your forehead.

it wasn’t long before he carefully rolled out of your bed. leaning down, he grabbed the boxers he was previously wearing, along with his grey sweatpants. sauntering towards the door, he cast one look at your sleeping figure before heading out the door.

a goofy smile was plastered on his face as he walked into the kitchen. he immediately started getting out measuring cups, bowls, and ingredients. he also turned on the griddle that was built into your stove.

it wasn’t long before the smell of pancakes was filling the house. armin always made the best pancakes. it was something you had complimented him on many times, even when you first started dating.

since you were always hungry after you woke up from sleeping together, armin thought he’d surprise you with your favorite thing. his pancakes.

he hummed softly as he scooped some of his homemade batter onto the griddle. he repeated this action a few more times before putting the measuring cup down. he continued to hum as he watched the delicious pancakes cook.

after a bit, he had a plate full of his homemade pancakes. making sure to turn the griddle off, he smiled down at the full plate of nearly perfect circular pancakes. “my angel is going to be so happy..” he murmured under his breath. quickly fixing you up a plate, he poured you something to drink before quietly carrying it to your room,

tiptoeing in, he set your little meal down on the nightstand next to your side of the bed. right as he went to wake you up, he realized that he forgot to bring you a fork. “i’ll be right back.” he murmured to your sleeping form before scurrying back out to the kitchen.

he quickly grabbed a fork and a napkin before heading over to your fridge. opening it, he grabbed out the syrup and whipped cream. satisfied, he headed back into your room and placed the rest of the things on the bedside table.

leaning over you, he immediately started peppering your face in kisses. “c’mon angel, wake up.” he giggled as he continued to kiss you. it wasn’t long before you let out a groggy groan, your eyes slowly starting to open. “m-min?” you murmured drowsily.

he chuckled as you slowly came to. “there’s my sleepy girl..” he cooed. sitting down next to you, he gently took your hand. “how’re you feeling?” you closed your eyes again and smiled. “tired. and hungry..” the smell of pancakes filled your nose almost immediately after you spoke.

peeking an eye open, you looked at him. “is that-?” he nodded and smiled. “yes, my love, i made you pancakes.” that seemed to catch your attention quite quickly. slowly starting to sit up, he chuckled.

“you always wake up for pancakes..”

[ivesambrose]

⚜️ 𝐉𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐈𝐧 𝐀𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 ⚜️

December 31st,2023 - May 1st, 2024

These are based on Sidereal transits 💛

If you'd like an even more personalized reading in regards to this or anything else from my list of services DM or email me with your query at Ivesambrose@gmail.com

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Picture 1

You'll feel more decisive about your goals and your life and actively move forward in regards to it whether you have a plan or not you are aware that even if you take one step in regards to your desires every single day, even if it's a change of lifestyle, habit or mindset, they will all up.

You may have felt rejected or feared rejection in the past that has made you question your self worth immensely, it has made you shut down that tender part of you, it only comes out when you're by yourself or the few people you know and trust. You'll be slowly letting go of that wound of feeling rejected, unseen and unheard. You may be drawn more towards your faith at this time but it won't be a surface level thing, you might want to learn more, pray more or do more devotional acts as you'll realize that a lot of your prayers are being answered.

You're no longer the damsel in distress or someone who can be easily taken advantage of either. You'll likely attract a few people who are a bit obsessively drawn to you, some may have good intentions but others would want to control you or have ulterior motives, so please use your best judgement and listen to your gut.

You'll likely become more social, recognised for your words or the way you express yourself or teach things which make others feel comforted and heard. You might also begin expressing yourself in the form of writing, singing, photography, vlogging etc

You'll want to indulge in the luxuries life has to offer even more. There is also possibility of travel within the country for starters and a lot of back and forth.

Be more protective of your energy as well otherwise you'll feel moody and depleted.

Picture 2

You might feel like you're in the spotlight or you'll be fixating on the bigger picture of something and nothing else. A path you had chosen months back has led you to where you are right now, good or bad, you'll make peace with it once you realize that it's on you to change your direction or do what's need to be done to steer your life in the right direction. There's a sense of enlightenment that will feel very personal and spiritual to you, it will lead you to drop the act you had been partaking in for long.

You may have rejected help and guidance in the past that may have come to bite you and kept you in the same cycle, you'll feel inclined to revisit the guidance and break free from this chain.

Some of you might find a home, change homes, start working from home or finally feel at home where you can drop your mask and finally be yourself.

You'll stop being double minded and finally see yourself blooming in different areas of your life be it studies or career or both. Like minded people will come to you. You might find love but some of you might let go of it as it could feel suffocating or restricting, you will feel sorrow but I also see you being held by someone either a friend or a new lover when this happens. Your needs will be mer regardless.

You'll be aggresive in your pursuits and some of you might finally step into the shoes of being a leader instead of following orders. You'll find your people and may also go to different festivals, fairs, exhibitions etc

Avoid overly physically exherting yourself and spicy food, Avoid lashing out at people. Stay hydrated aswell.

Picture 3

Too many choices in love, studies, career direction, hobbies etc you might feel a bit overwhelmed at first since the energy might feel scattered, so you'll proceed to expressing yourself more creatively and openly because of your new found confidence in your body and enthusiasm towards life. A lot of your creativity will come via your dreams, or engaging in fantasy literature and media or meditating or simply day dreaming.

Your creativity as well as beauty will draw in more career opportunities as well networking with people. You will also be actively addressing the ways you engage in self sabotage and it will be your responsibility to work through the same.

You'll be blessed with a wish or a couple of them being granted, you'll be in your receptive state. You might just accept the "delulu is the solulu" (I can't believe I typed that) saying or to put in better words, you'll simply allow your desires and dreams to manifest without you attaching conditions to it or thinking of the what ifs and how's etc

There will be deep transformation for you, big ones. Be it the way you look, dress, are living your life, your existing relationships, your job etc

You'll find unlikely resources or finances from unknown/hidden means or in form of inheritances.

You can look forward to a sense of peace you've been lacking. You might be prone to astral travel, intense dreams etc avoid or at least be mindful of recreational drug use or drinking, as well as water bodies.

Some of you might be traveling abroad for cultural exchange or studies or even for love. Do embrace the love that comes your way.

Picture 4

The courage and resources to get up and leave. Simply rising above something successfully no matter how weighed down you feel or have felt till now. You might also be juggling multiple things at this time (jobs, work and studies, hobbies, ideas, investments, applications etc) you'll find more balance somehow you'll also find clarity in your next steps.

You'll also be more assertive and stand up for yourself against someone who has held some form of power over you. You'll also realize that projecting omeone else's anger, mindset or bullying, towards yourself or others is not going to break the cycle. There is a theme of walking out, away and relocating heavily for you. But there is inevitable triumph in the path you're taking. Maybe in the past you've been procrastinating on it but that phase has come to an end.

A select few of you might also be going through your saturn return at this time so you might feel tested but you're simply having a period of shedding old skin and rising from the ashes of what was barren all along. You'll bring in more structure and discipline into your life in the process which in turn will reward you with joy and being content with your achievements instead of looking at your to do list for the next big thing.

Try engaging or creating things that make you feel light-hearted or entertained or it was something that was taught to you as a child, I feel you'll find the 'lost art' to something and recreate it.

Let yourself have fun and feel joy for what seems like the first time in your life. You'll realize life wasn't just unrewarded labour, that was an old way of being and you're stepping into a reality that feels a lot more comforting and compassionate than the one you're leaving behind.

[slttygeto]

COMFORTING YOU AFTER A BREAKDOWN

featuring: gojo, geto.

genre: fluff, comfort.

note #1: super self indulgent. my best friend had just finished comforting me from a breakdown and i thought why not write something abt these men being sweethearts.

note #2: double update???? see yall in 2024 i guess /j

—GOJO

im not even being biased when i say hes the best at comforting

he’s extremely intelligent. but his emotional intelligence makes him feel safer

he wont really act “goofy” like most of the fandom makes him out to be

but rather sit with you and wait until youve calmed down before he can ask you if youre ready to talk

it seemed as though the more he tried to get you talk, the more your lip quivered before you went back to crying again. this has never happened before, and it’s not like gojo was panicking about how to comfort you, he was just extremely worried as to what pushed you to such a breaking point.

rubbing your arms with his thumbs as you stood between his legs and cried on his shoulder, the tall white haired man remained as quiet as possible, slowly wrapping his arms around you.

“do you want me to rock you a little bit?” he rested his chin at the top of your head, gently swinging your body from side to side as he listened to your stuttered breaths and little sniffles that slowly broke his heart to pieces.

“are you ready to talk?” the question itself brought tears to your eyes once again, your arms wrapping around his torso to squeeze him tight and pull him closer to you.

“okay, okay, that’s a no I guess,” he added in a teasing tone, chuckling a little when he heard you snort in between sobs.

you were sure of one thing, and it was that no matter how shitty your day was, getting to be with satoru was able to fix everything.

—GETO

goes into protective mode the moment he sees that youre crying because he knows it takes a lot for you to breakdown this hard

will hold your hands and repeatedly ask you if youre hurt somewhere or if you need to go to the hospital

only to realize halfway through that it was just a bad day, a bad week or maybe even a bad month since you tended to brush things off until you were going to explode

“you scared me,” when he said this, he didn’t mean to make you feel guilty. yet watching you slowly sit up on his lap, swollen eyes filling with tears once again as you let out what he understood to be a “im sorry” in the shape of a sob, shattered his heart to pieces that he had to place his hand on the back of your head to have you hugging him again.

“not saying this to make you feel guilty baby, it just shows that i care. i care when you’re going through something and it affects you this much,” you knew he was referring to the fact that he found you sobbing on the bathroom floor, messy hair and attire being a sign that you weren’t even able to get out of bed the entire day.

“it was just a bad day. was too tired to try and lie to myself,” you mumbled against his chest, body relaxing when his fingers started to trace your back gently.

“if it’s a bad day, then let it be a bad day. even if it physically stops you from getting things done, you’re doing more than enough.”

and sometimes, you wish you were able to record when suguru was this…soft. not that he wasn’t on other days, but seeing him be this careful with his words wasn’t really often considering his blunt personality.

yet, you were still grateful for every part of him.

2023 © all works belong to slttygeto. do not repost my work anywhere else.

[gimmethatagustd]

blunt rotation | pjm

Supplying your law school classmates with weed on the regular might as well be a full-time job. It's lucrative, but lately, you've seen a dip in profits. Maybe it's because you keep giving out the Pretty Boy Discount to a certain guy in your ethics class…

↳ pairing: prettyboy!jimin x weedgirl!reader

↳ rating/genre: BTS | 18+ | law school au | classmates to lovers | smut

↳ wc/date: 7.5k | april 2023

↳ warnings: marijuana | a somewhat subby!jimin | consensual sex while high | choking (in a sexy way) | fingering | cunnilingus | spit | protected vaginal sex | self-indulgent rants about capitalism and classism | jimin makes a lame dick joke

↳ notes: on god, this fic is probably more about weed than anything else khskdjfs i would apologize but i already warned y’all, so you get what you get. these 420 fics are probs especially bad, and i decided i do not care. #blazeit

↳ masterlist 

↳ what was jai listening to? a weed playlist made by yours truly 

“What is the difference between ethics, morality, and law?” 

Professor Kim leans against the desk at the front of the lecture hall with his hands gripping the edge on either side of his hips. The action makes the muscles in his arms flex, and you eat up the tan skin exposed by how his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. The tight white button-up accentuates plump pectoral muscles that threaten to pop and lose a few buttons. It wouldn’t surprise you if it happened. Professor Kim is known for being accidentally destructive. 

It is unethical to fuck your professor because it would create a conflict of interest; you’d imagine it would be hard for Professor Kim to ethically assess your academic performance if he’d been balls deep in you. 

It’s morally wrong to fuck your professor because you know he’s married, not because he has ever provided your class with information about his personal life, but because you sit at the front of the class. From your position, you can see the glint of his wedding band. 

Legally, you’re pretty sure there isn’t a law against fucking your professor. It probably goes against your university’s code of conduct, but that’s not a law. 

You sink further into your seat and let your eyes wander the room. Everyone diligently takes notes as Professor Kim turns to the presentation projected on the large screen behind him. Ethics and Professional Responsibility isn’t your favorite class, but no one said getting your J.D. would be fun. On the contrary, everyone you knew said it would fucking suck. And it kinda does. 

One thing that doesn't suck, though, is having a class with your program’s resident pretty boy, Park Jimin. 

Pretty boys aren’t your type at all. You prefer boys who are rough around the edges. You're not interested if a guy doesn’t look like he’s a one-way ticket to jail or hell. Maybe it’s the rebel in you. Maybe you like the idea that opposites attract. A lawyer and a criminal sounds like a cute ship, no? 

Pretty boys are too soft for you. They’re the type to have skincare routines and listen to Jack Harlow. No thanks. 

Yet your eyes always manage to find Jimin. 

He’s sitting to your left and a few rows behind you, but close enough to see him when you turn your head. He sits with perfect posture as he scribbles notes on his iPad, plump lips puckered in a cute little beak of concentration. 

Fuck, no, not cute. Ridiculous. Soft and childish. Everyone in the room is at least in their mid-twenties, some even in their late fifties. A prestigious J.D. program has no room for beaks and squishy cheeks. 

You’re about to look away when Jimin lifts his stylus to his mouth. The end presses a small dent into his plush bottom lip. You instinctually lick your lips, though your mouth suddenly feels dry. 

Jimin sits that way for a few more seconds with furrowed eyebrows as he focuses on his notes. At Professor Kim’s mention of the end-of-the-year oral argument, your classmate finally lifts his head to face the front of the room. His eyes are bright and wide, unlike the haggard look of your peers, and you watch them shift back and forth as he reads whatever is on the screen. You have no idea what Professor Kim’s talking about; your roommate, Hoseok, will fill you in when you get home. 

All you know is that Jimin finally pulls his stylus away from his lips and casts a sideways glance in your direction. You lock eyes for a split second before he quickly ducks his head, suddenly interested in his notes again. 

You snort loud enough for the woman sitting next to you to give you an odd look, but you ignore her and return your eyes to Professor Kim. 

Your eyes don’t stray from the front of the lecture hall for the rest of the class. It’s not difficult; there isn’t anything else you find interesting enough in the room to distract you. Nothing. Especially not Pretty Boy Jimin. 

🍃

“Hey, can I come over tonight?” 

Two pale hands splay across your desk once the class is dismissed. Chipped, black polish adorns each nail, except for the pinkies, which are painted white. 

“Why are you asking me? You don’t need my permission to visit your boyfriend’s apartment.” 

“I’m trying to work on my manners, jeez.”

You roll your eyes and slide your tablet into your backpack. “Where were your manners when you and Hobi fucked on my couch? Hmm, Yoongi? Where were they then?” 

Yoongi lets out a low groan as he steps to the side to let you fall in line with him as you exit the classroom. Your roommate is waiting in the hallway, always the last student to arrive and the first to leave. 

“That’s different,” Yoongi huffs, though this time, the sound is due to Hoseok crushing him in a hug once they make it into the hall. “Besides, I’m asking because I’m bringing my friend. We aren’t going to stay. He just wants someone to come with him.” 

Hoseok untangles his arms from Yoongi’s and adjusts his backpack. Your best friends act like surviving a three-hour class is like surviving a lifetime apart. 

“Ohh, a friend?” Hoseok leans against Yoongi with his eyebrows arched. His questioning tone is fair. The three of you don’t have many friends aside from each other. It’s hard to maintain friendships with people outside of law school. There’s simply no time. 

“What is this, the buddy system?” You snicker as you follow the two men to their cars. “Sorry, I only do business with adults.” 

There is quite literally no reason for you to be judgemental about whoever this mystery friend is, but class has put you in a cranky mood. Probably because of stupid fucking Park Jimin with his distracting lips. Your unpreparedness for the oral argument is slowly causing anxiety to creep into your chest. 

Yoongi gives you a light smack to your bicep. “Some people get nervous about this shit, you know that.” 

“It’s weed, oh my god. You act like we’re cooking meth in our basement.” 

Yoongi stops walking to give you a stern look with narrowed eyes and a cocked head. “You don’t even have a basement.” 

“Yeah, well, it’s 2023, and weed is legal.” 

“It is legal to purchase weed at a licensed dispensary. However, you are not licensed to sell weed, nor is your apartment a dispensary.” 

“It’s got enough weed in it to be one,” Hoseok snorts, but the sound quickly morphs into a severe cough when Yoongi’s glare is directed at him. 

Yoongi yanks his car door open and slides into the driver’s seat. Then, with one leg still on the ground and his arm holding the door open, he lets out a long sigh. “You two are insufferable.”

“Love you too, babe!” Hoseok giggles and sends his boyfriend a flying kiss as Yoongi drives out of the parking lot. 

“For an anti-capitalist, Yoongi is so old-fashioned. I’m providing a product to the everyday person at a reasonable price,” you grumble while you fasten your seatbelt in Hoseok’s car. “Dispensaries are classist. They’re way too fucking expensive, and they’re all in affluent neighborhoods, anyway. The gentrification of marijuana in this country is ridiculous. Where does Yoongi think those tax funds end up? Not in neighborhoods that need them. And what about expunging people’s records? Is the government ever going to do that?” 

You slump in your seat, the sudden energetic burst of social consciousness in you dying out. “I hate rich people.”

Hoseok hums in agreement, keeping his eyes on the road as he drives. “We’re about to be rich people, though.” 

“Not me. Civil rights law isn’t going to make me rich, and I’m not touching corporate with a ten-foot pole.” 

Yoongi and so many other people in your program are too dependent on what is and don’t stop to question what can be or what should be.

Ethics is a social construct, morality is subjective, and law is arbitrary. 

Going to law school is less about learning how to be a lawyer and more about learning how to play a game. 

🍃

When Park Jimin walks into your living room, all you can do is blink at him. Your eyes are red and glassy, your mouth dry even though you’ve been sipping water, and your limbs feel too gooey to bother getting up. Maybe you’re hallucinating him, which would be very upsetting because you don’t want to explore why he’s sticking around in your head. 

But then Yoongi is ushering the guy to sit next to you, and the dip in the couch as he eases down feels too real. 

“Ah, Jimin! You’re the friend!” Hoseok gives the newcomer a blinding smile. Smoke punctuates each word, billowing toward the ceiling. There’s already a thin haze to the room; you and Hoseok have been smoking for a while. “Welcome to our humble abode.”

Jimin gives Hoseok a small smile. He also turns to give you one, but it falters when you meet his gaze. 

You’re not sure what expression you’re wearing. It could be anything, really. Or nothing at all. 

“Hi,” he says quietly. His lips are so pink. You want to ask him how soft they are. 

“How much do you want?” Is what you ask instead. 

Jimin turns to Yoongi, who is now cuddled up with Hoseok on the other side of the room. The chair is made for only one person, but they have never known personal boundaries. You suppose if they’re dating, it doesn’t matter. 

“Just give him an eighth,” Yoongi says with a dismissive wave. He’s more focused on plucking the blunt from Hoseok’s lips and bringing it to his own. 

“Of what?” You huff your words, twisting the joint you’ve got between your middle finger and thumb. It’s clear that Jimin knows nothing about weed. He can’t even come up with a measurement or a strain. 

Yoongi glares at you as if this is somehow your fault before saying, “Anything. Maybe not Girl Scout Cookies or Sour Diesel, though. I don’t want his brain melting out of his ears.” 

Jimin makes a slight noise of surprise at that. 

“Kidding,” Yoongi teases. “Well, about the brain-melting part. I mean it about the strains, though.” 

Leaving your joint in an ashtray on the coffee table, you stand up with a groan. Moving is low on your list of things to do right now. The indica you’ve been smoking makes your movements feel slow, though you can’t tell if they actually are. 

“Come on,” you mumble, gesturing for him to follow you down the hall. He goes without a word, eyes wide as if he’s about to discover something profound within the walls of your apartment. You don’t want to admit how cute he is, just as timid in your apartment as in class. 

“We keep everything in the office. It’s super organized, but I guess that’s expected.” You don’t know why you’re rambling (yes, you do, it’s the weed). 

Jimin nods. “Makes sense.” 

He’s so cute, you think, when he asks if he wants you to close the door once you’ve reached the office. As if there is something to hide in here. Hoseok and Yoongi are the only other people in the apartment. 

“I’m going to give you a hybrid. You know what that means?” 

Jimin hovers over you when you crouch next to a dresser with multiple drawers. Numerous glass jars, all labeled with pieces of white tape and messy handwriting, are stacked in the drawer you open. You sift through them, taking a few to inspect before placing them back again. 

“I do not.” At least he’s honest. 

“It’s the happy medium between sativa and indica. Sativa gives you a head high. People tend to feel alert and creative sometimes. Indica gives you a body high. It’s the stereotypical kind of weed people talk about that makes you lazy and get the munchies. It’s because sativa has more THC than CBD, whereas indica is more CBD-heavy. Think about how people use CBD products when they’ve got joint pains or anxiety, right?” 

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” The statement is redundant, but you don’t mention it. Jimin looks like he hangs onto your every word as though his life depends on it. It’s funny, and you have to stop yourself from laughing at him.

Finding what you’re looking for, you hand a jar to Jimin. “It’s already weighed, so you can take the whole thing.” 

Jimin holds the jar like it’s a newborn. This time, you let a few giggles slip out. 

“Do you have something to smoke it with? A piece or a bong?” 

A shake of his head is no surprise, but you act shocked because you’re high and feeling good, and you love how he looks when his eyes grow wide.

“Wow, you’re so cute,” you say with a grin that starkly opposes the shy blush that paints Jimin’s face. “You probably don’t know how to roll either, do you?” 

Another shake of his head. Of course. 

It’s not difficult to show Jimin how. You pull up another chair at your desk and push away all your notes and textbooks for school to clear a path to work. You show him how to grind the weed and roll a blunt and a joint — so he can figure out which one he likes better. 

Jimin’s body is warm as he presses against yours, your shoulders bumping into each other every time you move your arm. He keeps close, eyes glued to your hands as you work slowly but diligently. It’s a bit disarming having him so close. Aside from the occasional hello during class, you’ve never really talked to Jimin. Concentrating with all his Pretty Boy energy fogging up your mind is tricky. 

Or is it the weed? Nah, it’s the weed. 

“If you end up not liking either, go to a head shop to buy a bowl — it’s a pipe. Maybe don’t go with a bong yet. Yoongi can help you. He likes bowls better, so he’ll have good recommendations.” 

Once finished, you slip the blunts and joints into a ziplock bag. When you pass it to Jimin, you can’t help but let your fingers brush against his. The touch sends waves of hot electricity up your arm. The shock of it makes your entire body tingle. Sure, the weed is making your body extra sensitive, but it’s not only that. He’s so fucking hot. 

You don’t realize you’re staring at him. It’s hard not to stare or even know where to begin. His plush, pillowy lips? His fluffy, dirty-blonde hair that falls into his eyes? So cute that you don’t even care when he has to do a Bieber flip to get his bangs out of his face? 

And, fuck, he’s not wearing the usual crisp white Oxford shirt and black chinos get-up. He must have gone home to change after class because now he’s wearing a form-fitting black t-shirt (probably designer from the looks of it) and grey jogger sweatpants that do nothing to hide how thick his thighs are and you’re sure if you get a chance to look at his ass you’ll find that that part of his body is thick, too. Expensive athleisure wear looks even better on him than professional clothing. It makes him look soft. 

“Thank you,” Jimin says, speaking your name softly, and you feel like your knees grow weak at the sound of it tumbling from lips like those. “I’m sorry, I feel like I barged in here and took up your time. Not knowing anything… I’m sure you’re used to people with more knowledge than I do.” 

Shaking your head, you guide Jimin out of the office and lock it behind you. “Don’t worry about it. Everyone has to start somewhere, right?” 

It’s funny that he’s concerned about something like this, as if marijuana knowledge is so embarrassing not to have. 

When you turn around, you realize the two of you are standing way too close. Your apartment isn’t a shoebox, but it certainly isn’t large. The hallway is slim, and Hoseok has a million and one plants and decorative furniture scattered around for the “aesthetic,” which makes it even harder to navigate tight spaces. 

You’re not complaining, though. This close, you can see that Jimin is wearing contacts that make his eyes hazel, little flecks of orangish-brown highlighting his naturally dark irises. 

Jimin’s eyes drop to your lips, and you feel your stomach drop along with them. Even though you’re not touching each other, your skin tingles with the knowledge that you could be touching. He’s so close. All it would take is one tiny shuffle forward, and you could slot yourself against his nimble — but what you assume is a very solid — frame. 

“Yeah,” he speaks as he releases a soft exhale. You feel his warmth and shudder. “Thank you, still.”

“No problem,” you whisper. 

Jimin’s tongue darts out to run across his bottom lip. His teeth draw it in slightly, and when he lets go, you can see how his lip bounces back into place. 

Dragging your eyes back to meet his takes an embarrassing amount of effort. He’s finally looking at your eyes, too, with an expression you don’t understand because you don’t really know him. 

“How much do I owe you?”

Right. Because he’s here with Yoongi for a reason. You swallow, turning your head to the side to hopefully break whatever spell Jimin and weed have put you under. 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

Jimin inhales sharply, but you keep your eyes down. “I must pay you something. I don’t know what’s a standard amount.” 

If you were anyone else, you could honestly rip him off. The guy has no clue — he is even admitting that he doesn’t! But there are embers smoldering in the pit of your stomach. 

“Nope,” you say with a tone of finality. You can hardly think before your following words slip out of your mouth like snakes. “Pretty Boys get weed free of charge.” 

“W-w-what?” Jimin looks unbearably cute when he’s confused. It’s almost too much for you to handle. 

So you don’t. 

Without another word, you head back to the living room. Jimin follows silently. You’re sure his face is still painted with shock because Yoongi gives the two of you an odd look. 

“Right where I left you,” you tease.

Untangling his limbs from Hoseok’s, Yoongi lets out an old man grunt and stands. You hadn’t believed him when he said he wouldn’t be staying, but it’s clear that he’s sticking to his promise when he starts patting down his legs to make sure he has his keys. 

“Got what you need, Chim?” 

Chim? How close are Yoongi and Jimin? And why are you only now learning of this friendship? 

Jimin nods, his bottom lip between his teeth once again. He insists that you’ve been a great help to him, all while keeping his eyes locked with yours. It’s so different than his shy avoidance in class. 

“Don’t worry, Yoong,” you insist as you plop back on the couch. Your joint is patiently waiting for you. “I took good care of him.” 

🍃

You’ve never been very good at math, but it doesn’t take a mathematician to know that Pretty Boy Jimin ends up costing you hundreds of dollars as the semester progresses. 

All your peers will walk away from law school making six figures easily. But not you. You just had to give a shit about the world, didn’t you? You just had to pick an area of law that values protecting human rights over making a profit. 

God, being a good person is so hard! 

And now, Park Jimin is sucking you dry before you can even earn money. Every time his fat little ass sashays away from your apartment with another jar of free weed, you can practically hear the chime of money signs ringing out with each step. 

There’s a worse feeling, though. It hadn’t occurred to you until now, as you stand in the entranceway of Jimin’s apartment unit, your backpack carrying precious cargo inside slung over one shoulder. 

Allowing Jimin to walk out of your apartment with the Pretty Boy Discount of free marijuana hurts your pocket, but doing a free weed delivery is even more pathetic. You're wasting your own time and gas money to drive to Park Jimin’s motherfucking apartment to deliver him weed that you aren’t even going to charge him for simply because he’s hot. 

Maybe this is the terrible consequence of abstaining from sex to “focus on school” — as if smoking weed with Hoseok all day isn’t a distraction. But, on the other hand, maybe you just need to get laid. 

Dipping on this commitment would be easy, you think as you bounce on the balls of your feet. You could leave right now before Jimin answers the door, ask Hoseok to handle Jimin’s future requests, and put all of this behind you. But, of course, the entire situation is ridiculous anyway. You don’t even know Jimin. Not really. 

There’s a clicking sound from the other side of Jimin’s front door. Logically, you know it’s the sound of him unlocking the door, but your nerves tell you it’s the sound of your fate being locked into place. It may as well be because Jimin opens the door with a smile that puffs up his cheeks, his hair looks damp, and he smells like body wash. 

Fuck. 

“Hi!” His voice squeaks, but a deep cough returns it to a normal tone. “I mean, uh, I appreciate you coming by.” 

Your tongue presses into your cheek as you regard him for a moment. He might consider your silence as negative because he quickly sidesteps to allow you into his apartment. 

You give Jimin a smirk. “I think you should at least give me a tip.” 

“O-oh, I mean… oh, um,” he stutters, and you can’t help but laugh. 

A rush of air escapes your nostrils in a low-energy, nearly silent laugh. While coming to Jimin’s place might seem like a lot of effort, the truth is that you’re bored, and lately, you’ve been seeking anything to get your mind off the loneliness you feel when your apartment is dark and Hoseok is with Yoongi. 

So, even though part of you chastises yourself, you’re willing to risk looking pathetic or desperate if it means you can have someone to smoke with and get some time away from your too-quiet apartment. Not because Jimin is the most attractive person you’ve ever seen in your entire life. 

Jimin’s pretty eyes widen, and you quickly wave your hand to brush off his sudden panic. 

“I’m kidding,” you confess as you twist your backpack around your body to pull out a small glass mason jar. It’s cute how concerned he is. 

No, not cute. Naive. You shake yourself out of the feeling. 

”Well, come on then.” You walk through Jimin’s apartment into the living room. It’s your first time making a delivery with him, so you’ve never been to his apartment. Yet you walk through the building with unearned familiarity. You’ve got manners; sometimes, you choose not to use them.

“How have you and Hoseok been?” 

“Prepping for finals. And that fucking oral argument Kim’s got us doing,” you groan. School talk wasn’t something you had in mind when you showed up, but in the months you’ve spent getting to know Jimin more, you’ve learned he’s a total nerd. He’s probably excited about the assessment. 

“Sometimes I think he’s trying to kill us,” Jimin says with a slight grin. “Is it ethical, moral, or legal to terrify your students to the point of throwing up before evaluations?” 

“Don’t tease Yoongi like that! You know he has public speaking anxiety!” 

Jimin does a little half-skip to avoid your attempt to slap his chest. Although you know the both of you are drowning in student loans and law school tuition fees, the apartment is much nicer than expected. You wonder if Jimin has a roommate. He’s never mentioned one before.  

“Don’t tell him, or he’ll beat me up.” 

Eyerolls aren’t a commitment to anything, but you know Jimin knows you wouldn’t dare repeat his words. 

Plopping onto his couch, you scoot the coffee table between your knees and set the jar down. Beside the jar, you place everything you need to roll for Jimin, including a grinder and swishers. You could have rolled it all in advance, but you don’t like to feel rushed. Prepping is the best part. It relaxes you.

Jimin slowly slides into place beside you on the couch. He leaves enough room between the two of you to be respectful, although something tells you it’s less about his desire to make you feel comfortable and more about his discomfort. 

He’s nervous, but you don’t know why. He keeps dragging his palms against his thighs, roughly rubbing his jeans. Every once in a while, he lifts his hand to touch his bottom lip. Then, when you sneak a glance at him, he quickly turns away. There’s nothing of note to look at in the apartment, but he seems engrossed in something for those fleeting moments before you’re sure he’s looking at you once again. 

“I should probably learn how to do this… Like, properly… I can’t remember everything you did the first time,” Jimin mumbles. When you look up, his cheeks are dusted a light pink. 

“Sorry, I probably went too fast that time.” You give him an apologetic look that makes his face redden even more. “It’s not as hard as people make it out to be. Just need a good teacher.” 

If Jimin expects you to be his teacher again, he doesn’t say so. You could be. You can’t stop yourself from giving the guy free weed; you might as well add comprehensive rolling lessons in the mix. 

By this point, rolling a blunt is about muscle memory; you don’t have to use an ounce of brainpower. Your eyes can wander, sweep over the contents of Jimin's living room, your thoughts floating off to wonder about the little details of the man’s life you aren’t privy to. Who are his friends? Where is his family? You look for photographs on shelves or hanging on the walls, items that are a staple in your and Hoseok’s apartment. Would Yoongi be in any of his photos? So many people in the city come in like ghosts.

“Do you, um, would you like to stay?” 

Jimin's voice pulls you back to the living room, where your hands have already finished two blunts without you realizing it. 

"Isn’t that what you meant when you said I could smoke with you?" You question around the blunt you’ve brought between your lips, pausing to light it.

Jimin shakes his head, not as an answer to your question, but to himself. “Yes, of course.” 

“You wanna share this or smoke your own?" You can keep working on rolling the rest in the meantime.

Rather than answer your question verbally, Jimin does something that makes your heart fall into the pit of your fucking stomach. The supposedly shy, naive man parts his lips and juts his chin toward you. 

The meaning behind his action hits you in the chest immediately. You let your eyes drift over his mouth, and you try not to react when his tongue swipes across his bottom lip while he patiently waits for you to give him what he wants. And you’re gonna do it, too. No questions asked. 

Pinching the blunt between your middle finger and thumb, you twist on the couch to face Jimin with your legs tucked beneath you. Of course, if your fingertips brush against his lips when you place the blunt between them, that’s no one’s business, and you fucking plead the fifth, thanks. 

Jimin’s eyes never leave yours when he wraps his lips around the blunt and inhales. He takes the hit like a champ, not coughing once despite the smoke’s thickness when he exhales. It’s been a few months since he started coming to you for weed. You shouldn’t be proud of his improvement, but you are anyway. Even if it’s weird to be. 

“Thanks.” Jimin looks like a droopy-eyed dragon, eyes heavy and narrow when he expresses his appreciation. His voice is low and thick, and it makes your stomach swoop. 

You nod your head and take the blunt from him. “No problem.” 

Time is hardly discernible in normal circumstances for you, especially when you’re high. So you can’t imagine how long you sit with Jimin on his couch, watching smoke billow in the air and talking about how unfortunate it is that Frank Ocean and Rihanna ghosted the music industry. 

For a while, the two of you fall silent. You lean your head against the couch and close your eyes, content with listening to the music Jimin put on until another thought enters your mind. One you can’t bring yourself to ignore.  

“You ever fucked while you’re high?” 

You ask the question once you and Jimin have finished the first blunt and move on to the second. The lighter you’re using is hot pink with blue and purple flowers printed on it. Something feels fitting about that. 

The question takes you by surprise even though you’re the one asking it, unsure why you’re asking it aside from knowing the weed will make you more likely to speak your mind. Jimin, though. The poor guy is even more startled. As he should be, you think. 

His hand trembles slightly when he passes you the blunt when it’s your turn to take a hit. “Uhh, um, have I— what?” 

You roll your eyes and blow a smoke ring in Jimin’s direction. You wait for his coughing to subside before you repeat yourself. 

“Have you ever had sex while under the influence of marijuana, Jimin-ssi?”

“No…” 

“Hmm, you should. It’s really fun. Feels good.” 

“Oh.” 

“Do you wanna try it now?” 

It’s comical how Jimin gulps, literally gulps, like a fucking cartoon character. “Now?” 

Marijuana is an aphrodisiac. It won’t make Jimin want you, but it’s clear from his suggestive behavior that he already does. The weed will simply, hopefully, make him less nervous about it. 

You pretend you don’t notice how he shifts to press his thighs together on the couch. 

“Come on,” you encourage him. “Stop thinking so much.” 

You know you’re too forward and sudden, but it feels justified because you’ve been thinking about Jimin for months. The buildup over the past few months has been stifling. 

Giving consent is what finally unlocks something in Jimin. One moment he’s staring at you with wide, timid eyes; the next, he’s got his hand around your throat. 

With a light squeeze, Jimin pulls you into him to slot his lips with yours. Holding back a moan is nearly impossible when his tongue pries your lips open. It’s wet and hot, and your skin tingles when you taste the smoke on him when his tongue curls around your own. Smoking always makes you feel warm, but you feel like you’re on fire when Jimin whimpers into your mouth. His pace is unrelenting. You feel like you’re tripping over yourself as you attempt to keep up with the quick work of his lips. The effort has you practically straddling his lap. 

Tightening his grip on your throat, Jimin uses it to tilt you how he wants you. A pleased hum vibrates against your mouth when he hears you moan from the pressure of his fingers digging into the soft skin of your neck. It’s only when you start to get lightheaded, and your lips slow that Jimin finally pulls away. 

His eyes' heavy, sensual look remains, but you’re surprised to find his slick lips forced into a frown. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You could ask why, but you assume Jimin’s forwardness isn’t typical behavior. The good thing is that it is for you.

Rather than address the unnecessary tension, you let your lips do all the work and pull Jimin in for another ruthless kiss. 

“I don’t wanna hear any apologies from you,” you murmur against his mouth. “The only thing I want your lips doing is eating me out.” 

Jimin lets out a high-pitched whine that sets something dangerous off, buzzing through your body. “Please.” 

Maybe you’re pathetic with how quickly you strip yourself of your clothes, but Jimin doesn’t seem to care. His eyes never leave your body as you toss the clothing onto the floor. “You’re so beautiful…” 

“Yeah?” You lean with your back against the arm of the couch, scooting down slightly so you can let your legs fall open. 

He nods sharply and is silent momentarily as he rubs his palms down the length of your legs, settling between them. 

"I've always wanted to talk to you," Jimin speaks with a hushed tone. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh. "I just get nervous. I'm sure that seems pretty lame." 

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak. Every touch sends goosebumps pebbling across your skin. It’s exhilarating. You feel like your entire body is a hot wire, sparking and buzzing at a dangerous frequency. 

"Yoongi said this would be a good way for us to get to know each other. The weed, not this this!" It's shocking to you how adorable he can be at the same time he sucks the skin of your inner thigh into his mouth, swirling his tongue around after biting down hard enough to make you gasp. 

Your head falls back as you feel the tip of Jimin’s tongue drags along your clit. He swirls it around, drawing small circles in a steady rhythm. Every time his tongue pulls back, you can hear a soft smacking sound of his lips. He’s likely swallowing the drool collecting in his mouth. You’re sure he’s probably getting a bad case of cotton mouth from the excessive sound. 

It makes you smile knowing he’s that sensitive. It takes much more weed in your system to start feeling dry in the mouth, but you’ve been smoking more years than Jimin and at a higher frequency. 

“Oh fuck,” you moan out a misshapen puff of smoke when Jimin’s tongue returns to your clit. 

This time he wraps his plush lips around it and suckles lightly, using his tongue to flick from side to side. His little grunts and moans make your pussy vibrate, sending a tingling sensation through the inside of your thighs and down to your toes. 

Your hand shakes as you bring the blunt back to your lips. A whine tries to break through, but you force it back down your throat as you inhale more smoke. It’s hard when your body feels like it’s burning up. 

Every gentle touch of Jimin’s lips and tongue on your skin feels like a punch to your stomach in a way that is so deliriously delicious you can hardly take it. Wetness drips down your pussy and smears against your thighs, either from your arousal or Jimin’s drool or both, but you don’t care how messy it is when Jimin pulls back enough to spit more onto your clit. 

You let out a surprised sound, lifting your head slightly to see a string of saliva connect Jimin’s pouty bottom lip with your skin. 

Fuck, you didn’t think Pretty Boy had it in him. 

Using two fingers, Jimin spreads his spit around your clit, pushing it down until he slides into your pussy with ease. You didn’t need the extra lubrication, but you groan at the wet sound that echoes through Jimin’s apartment as he thrusts his fingers deep inside you. He brings his lips back to your clit, sucking harder and massaging your skin with his tongue even faster to match the pace his fingers take. 

When he finally locates the spot that makes your legs shake, hitting it repeatedly, you dig your fingers into his fluffy hair and yank his head back. 

“H-h-here,” you stutter, pressing the blunt against his lips. They’re shiny, and the idea of sticking a wet blunt between your lips makes you want to cringe, but you don’t care because his lips are shiny with you. 

Jimin doesn’t stop thrusting into you, but his pace slows as he concentrates on taking another hit. 

“I’m so fucking hard,” he groans. With the blunt between his lips, Jimin’s hands fly to unbutton his jeans. Another groan sounds around the blunt once he’s freed himself of the retraining pants. 

You let out a quiet sigh as you try to collect yourself while Jimin smokes. “I told you it feels good. It’s different, isn’t it?” 

“Mhmm…”

There’s a large wet patch staining the front of Jimin’s briefs. It makes the fabric stick to his cock, clearly outlining his length and girth — big enough to make you drool but small enough that you won’t go home sore and regretful. 

“Lemme ride you.” You use your free hand to push Jimin into the back of the couch. He plants his feet on the floor and spreads his thighs as you get comfortable in his lap. “Wanna smoke the rest while we fuck.” 

Your head is in the clouds, your body melting like butter as Jimin skirts his hands along your sides. He eventually pauses to squeeze your hips, and you swear you can feel him all over you. 

It’s quick work, tugging down the final article of clothing separating the two of you. It’s hard not to stare, especially when Jimin twitches and shivers with every light touch of your fingertips along the ridges and veins of his cock. 

Your clit drags against the head of his cock when you adjust in his lap, and you let out a ragged moan. 

“Soaked,” Jimin murmurs, “You’ve got me all wet.” 

It’s true. Jimin’s thighs glisten from where you’ve leaked all over him. Your clit throbs so much it’s beginning to hurt from the sensitivity. 

“Condom,” you practically wheeze out. “If you go in raw, you’re probably gonna bust a nut immediately, and I’m not interested in that for many reasons.” 

Jimin’s face turns even pinker. 

“O-okay, give me a second, please.” So fucking polite, and for what? 

He holds you at the base of your spine with one hand as he leans forward to snatch his jeans with his other hand. There’s a condom in his wallet, so you assume your classmate isn’t all innocent. 

It’s quick work rolling the condom on. Uninterested in teasing yourself further because you feel like you’ll die if you don’t orgasm soon, you push Jimin hard against the back of the couch. You slip down his cock with ease, with no stretch or sting, from how turned on you are. 

“I feel like I’m already gonna come.” Jimin throws his head back against the couch. 

His lips fall open, and you quickly snatch the blunt from them so it doesn’t fall and burn one of you. He looks beautiful, angelic even. His lips are puffy and pink, his cute little mismatched front teeth peeking out. His tongue flicks around his mouth as his breathing grows heavier. 

You squeeze one of his shoulders with your free hand while your other keeps the blunt pinched to your lips. As you take a drag, you lift your hips and quickly bring them back down, your ass slapping Jimin’s thighs as you engulf his cock again. Your skin sounds wet and sticky, but Jimin’s whine drowns out the sound. 

“Shit,” he hisses. Blunt nails dig into your skin, but it doesn’t hurt; it only feels good. Everything feels so good. 

You hardly notice how hard you shake as you slam yourself down on Jimins’ cock again. Your head is too spacey to go fast, but you do your best to set a steady pace of bouncing on Jimin’s cock. It doesn’t matter if he’s already going to come. You feel your orgasm building up with every squeeze of his fingers and the pathetic moans from his mouth. 

You lean forward to latch your lips to the base of Jimin’s neck when he again drops his head. Pulling the skin into your mouth, you suck hard. You know the shock the discomfort will send across his body, pain that quickly morphs into pleasure and makes his cock twitch inside you. 

“Jesus Christ.” Jimin reaches up to brush his bangs away from his eyes. Sweat makes the hair remain in place, pushed up, making him look as wrecked as he sounds. His cheeks are bright red now, and the color bleeds down his neck, where you’re sure his chest is bright red, too. 

Fuck, why didn’t you take off his shirt? It feels like a quick and dirty fuck, although you’re not sure you want it to be. You’re unsure what you want this to be or mean. Or how you want it to feel. 

All you know is that you feel like you’ll come at the sight of Jimin’s toned stomach and chest when you pull the hem of his shirt up to bunch it right above his nipples. 

Holding onto the fabric gives you more leverage to pick up your pace. It’s needed because Jimin is a puddle beneath you. His arms are tossed to his slides like they’re made out of rubber, flopped onto the couch cushions. He can barely lift his hips. He only makes a few weak attempts to thrust into you before he’s whining again, head lolled to the side with furrowed eyebrows. He looks so fucked out. 

“Please, ahh, fuck, please,” Jimin begs, though you’re not sure for what. 

“Wanna come, pretty boy?” You squeeze his t-shirt harder and yank it slightly, just enough to pull Jimin’s back a few inches from the couch. “You’re gonna have to work harder. I already gave you so much.” 

Jimin’s eyes roll in pleasure when you clench around him, little “oh’s” and “ah’s” punched out of him. “Okay, yes, yes, fuck, yes, I’ll be soooo—”

You bring his hands back to your waist as he babbles. The contact must give him a bit of clarity because he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and begins to thrust into you hard. 

“I’ll. Be. So. Fucking. Good.” Every word is punctuated by a mind-shattering thrust as Jimin pulls you down onto his cock. 

If you were on the edge before, you’re falling by the time he picks up the pace and thrusts into you even harder. The buildup was long and hot, yet your orgasm hits you so hard it might as well have been a surprise. 

You curl into yourself and press your face into the crook of Jimin’s neck while he continues his unforgiving rhythm until he comes with a choked-out moan of your name. 

The silence should be uncomfortable. How awkward and irrational was it to simply… tell Jimin that you wanted to fuck? And for Jimin to go along with it? Casual hookups aren’t really your thing. Pretty Boy Jimin seems to be the exception for everything, though. 

Heavy breathing fills the silence as the two of you try to calm down, your chests rising and falling in tandem. It’s comforting to lean all your weight on Jimin, despite how his bunched-up t-shirt presses uncomfortably into your chest. Even the feeling of his cock softening inside of you doesn’t bother you any. 

At some point, Jimin had placed the blunt in the ashtray on the coffee table. It's shocking that he had the mind to do so; you would have accidentally burned a hole into his comfy, expensive-looking couch. It's a good thing you had the mind to use a condom. Imagine burn marks and cum stains. Sheesh. 

The kiss Jimin presses to your temple when he turns his head feels way more domestic than you deserve. You smile, teeth pressed against his skin, despite yourself. You can blame the giddiness you feel on the weed, and not whatever Pretty Boy Jimin has done to trigger warmth inside your chest. 

“I think I gave you more than the tip…” 

With narrowed eyes, you lift your head from Jimin’s neck to look him square in the face so quickly that you’re worried you might pull a muscle in your neck. “You’re not fucking funny.” 

Jimin lets his head fall back to laugh hard enough that his eyes squeeze shut. It’s so endearing that you overlook such a bad joke. Pretty Boy Jimin seems to get away with a lot. You don’t mind it as much as you act like you do. 

all rights reserved © gimmethatagustd on tumblr & AO3

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

[saetoshis]

when you said jing yuan and underboob kisses………….i haven’t recovered i promise i haven’t 🤕 now i just wanna be self indulgent and project for a moment that jing yuan loves thicker women so imagine him drifting down from your breasts to kissing every square inch of your torso and stomach with so much tenderness and his eyes are lidded but so soft and it’s just <3 that it makes you wanna cry ?? you run your fingers through his soft thick locks and he purrs in satisfaction like a cat ?!!?!?!? i am. not okay. he may become my comfort character fr

BRO YES HE LOVES THICK WOMEN FOR SUREEE especially your tummy he just LOVES IT. hes so body positive bro i know it MM M MM !!1!1!1!1’

cw: fem!reader, body worship, specific mentions of thick/chubby body type, lots n lots of praise, fluffy fluffy fluffy stuff !1!

jing yuan absolutely loves your body.

you might not like it that much; maybe you don’t like the way your thighs don’t have a distinctive gap between them, or how you can see the chubbiness of your waist when you wear tight clothing, or maybe even the stretch marks and cellulite along your hips, thighs, or arms.

but jing yuan promises that he loves it all, and he shows it in his own way.

“oh, look at you,” jing yuan practically purrs against your chest as his big hands caress your back and pull you closer against his chest. his lips press hot open-mouthed kisses along the underside of your breasts, and they’re so love-filled and tender that it makes your heart yearn.

“s’ embarrassing…” you mumble, feeling a little vulnerable all on display for him. but the truth is that each kiss and caress he leaves along your body is filled with romance, love, and validation all at once. he dotes on every little beauty mark, pressing his lips down your body with meaning.

“shh… let me do this a little longer. i’m gonna give you the love your body deserves,” jing yuan mumbles in a daze as he eyes your frame in his lap, and it just does something to him. he slips his tongue into every kiss along your skin, moaning softly with each careful touch. “god… you are so beautiful, you know? mm?”

the words strike you hard, and every little movement and miniscule touch makes you feel his love even more. your thighs keen together, his words boggling around in your head like a melody. “keep touching me like this and i won’t be able to stop wanting more.”

“isn’t that the point?” jing yuan chuckles, running his palms along the stretch marks on your hips and thighs. his eyes look up at you with a sense of desire and lust, and it makes your head spin. his fingers slip between your thighs now, running tiny circles along your now-wet panties.

“gonna show you just how much i love your body now. be patient tonight, ‘cause i’m gonna be really taking my time…”

2023 SAETOSHIS. do not copy or repost.

[wongyuseokie]

Like a Cowboy | j.w.w

Summary: Your boyfriend sang the line, “like a cowboy,” and that’s precisely how you want to ride him. 

☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ♕ smut |  ♥ completed works

Word Count: 1306 words

Pairings: Jeon Wonwoo x Female Reader

Genre/Trope(s)/AUs: Fluff, Smut, PWP Content Warnings: None. Wonwoo is just giving amazing sex. This fic just happened because I’m a weak woman for this man. I’m a simp for this man, his deep voice singing like “like a cowboy.” Smut Warnings: Oral sex (female receiving), fingering, squirting, overstimulation. Unprotected sex (don’t do this). Nicknames (he calls her kitten a few times). Authors Note 1: This is an extremely self indulgent fic, since it's my birthday and Wonwoo is my bias. Hehe. 💕

Authors Note 2: Thank you so so much to @seungkwansphd for listening to me babble about this and giving me feedback and suggestions too!! 💕 Thank you also to my soul mate @here4btsfics for beta'ing and lovingly yelling at me. Thank you for indulging me as I cry about Wonwoo.

Tagging: @dokcheol because she asked and I made a new demon friend. 🥰 and @falllinflowers because I made two new demon friends today 💕also tagging @onlyseokmins because u thought it was a horsie fic.

Banner Credits: @classicscreations

Cross Posted to AO3

© wongyuseokie 2023. All rights reserved.

“Okay, why are you glaring at me?” Wonwoo asked one night while you were both getting ready for bed. He was puzzled as to why you kept narrowing your eyes at him and glaring. 

“You know what you did,” you mumbled. It was unfair. Wonwoo didn’t know, he was simply singing, but his deep voice did things to you. Unholy things and tonight was yet another night where his voice made it impossible for you to behave like a sane person. 

However silent Wonwoo could be, he was incredibly observant, and he noticed the sultry glances, looks, the lace set you wore, and the way your thighs kept pressing together. 

“Hmm, given how you’ve had your thighs pressed together the entire evening, I’m guessing you’re very frustrated, and the fact that you’re glaring at me means I caused it,” Wonwoo wondered, making you glare at him more. 

“Let’s see, was it my tongue? Did you want that? Or did I lick my lips on stage again and make you horny?” Wonwoo teased, recalling memories, making you huff at him. 

“Or was it, and I think this might be the fifth time this month that my voice turned you on?” Wonwoo suggested as he inched forward to place his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

You let out an exasperated laugh at his words, making Wonwoo smirk. 

“Kitten, if you keep getting horny because of my voice. I might have to either stop speaking or stay buried inside you,” Wonwoo teased, his thumbs pressing into your hips. 

“I pick the latter,” you mumbled, making him smile. 

“But it’s my voice, kitten. I can’t help it,” Wonwoo spoke with a playful pout on his handsome face. 

“True, but it just makes me horny,” you admitted, making Wonwoo blush at your honesty. 

“What did it this time?” Wonwoo asked. 

“You sang the sentence ‘like a cowboy’, and it did things to me,” you mumbled, and Wonwoo bit his lip to keep from laughing–not because he was mocking you, but because he found it adorable how easily you’d be affected by his voice. 

“Right, and?” Wonwoo asked. 

“All I could think of was that I wanted to ride you like one,” you added, your voice a little louder this time, and Wonwoo could feel his cock start to harden at your words. 

“I see. Well, I should probably make it up to you for that, shouldn’t I?” Wonwoo asked, and you nodded quickly, making him smile fondly at you as he leaned down to capture your lips with his. 

“Lie down, pretty girl,” Wonwoo instructed, and you did as he asked as you climbed into the bed, laying down on your back. 

Wonwoo moved until he hovered over your body, careful not to crush you. He placed a kiss starting from your forehead and moving to your cheek and then to your lips, making you melt with how soft the kiss was.

Wonwoo moved to lay between your legs, pushing the fabric of your shirt up slightly, and his lips met with your skin as he peppered soft kisses along your stomach.

Wonwoo pushed your shirt higher, exposing your lace-covered breasts, and he moved his body to place kisses up your tummy and stopped at your sternum. He pulled his shirt off, and unhooked your bra, and tossed them across the room. 

Wonwoo stayed silent as he lay between your legs again, his lips latching onto your breast. You moaned softly, and he laved over your nipple while his hand gently flicked and tugged your other breast.

Wonwoo moved his mouth to your other breast repeating the movements. He smiled at you as he trailed kisses down your chest and stopped at the waistband of your jeans.

He smiled as he undid the button on your jeans and pulled them down your legs along with your now soaking wet underwear. Wonwoo pushed your thighs apart and laid down between them.

Wonwoo threw your legs over his broad shoulders, kissing your inner thighs until his mouth finally landed on your cunt. Wonwoo groaned softly when he tasted you, moaning at how wet you were as he secured his lips to your clit. 

“My god,” you moaned out. He was incredible that you knew, but everything felt so intense. You gasped at the pleasure. You failed to hold your moans as he sucked on your clit; his hands moved to interlock at your waist as he kept sucking your clit.

You felt your eyes roll back as your orgasm approached you, 

“Wonwoo,” you gasped.

Wonwoo could tell you were close, and he continued to suck your clit until you started to shake in his grip. Wonwoo’s mouth never left your clit as you came.

You whimpered as his touch pushed you to the brink of overstimulation, but you didn’t care. It felt too good. Wonwoo slowly moved his mouth away from your clit, smiling when he saw how swollen and wet your cunt was.

He could see it throbbing and pulsating with aftershocks of pleasure.

“Fuck,” you whispered as he pushed two fingers into you. Wonwoo stood up slightly as he pushed his middle and ring finger into your cunt and hooked them there.

“Scream for me,” Wonwoo said as he vigorously pumped his fingers in and out of your cunt. He used his other hand to press down your pubic bone holding you still as you started to thrash about.

“Do you hear how wet you are?” Wonwoo asked as he kept fingering you. You nodded, whimpering, as you fisted the sheets between your hands and let out a scream as you came hard.

“Wonwoo, fuck. I can’t,” you whimpered when you noticed that he hadn’t stopped his movements.

“Yes, you can. I know you can,” Wonwoo countered as he repeated his actions, making you squirt all over his hands.

You whimpered in his grip, pushing his forearm, and Wonwoo smiled as he pulled his fingers out of you. 

“Fuck me, please,” you begged, and Wonwoo nodded.

“Oh, I will,” Wonwoo obliged as he moved to place his hands on your face and pulled you in for a kiss, pulling you on top of him. 

 “Please,” you begged against his lips, making Wonwoo smirk into the kiss as he adjusted himself to guide his cock into you, making you whine at the stretch.

Wonwoo held your waist, his lips finding yours, and he dug his heels into the mattress thrusting into you. You moaned and whimpered into the kiss.

Wonwoo kept pounding into you, his thrusts hard and deliberate, and with each thrust, his cock brushed over the spot inside you that had you seeing stars.

“Fuck, cum,” Wonwoo gritted out, moaning against your lips when he felt you tighten around him. You came hard a third time, clenching around him, making him whine into the kiss. Wonwoo let go of you and flipped you both over so that you were lying underneath him.

He pushed his cock into you again as he pounded into you, chasing his own orgasm. 

“Fuck, I’m going to cum,” Wonwoo groaned as his hands moved to your swollen and sensitive clit. You whimpered as he rubbed it.

“Cum again with me, baby,” Wonwoo said as he rubbed your clit, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. 

“Fuck,” you both gasped within seconds of one another as you clenched around him and as he  released his warmth into you.

“Well, that was wow,” Wonwoo breathed out as he rolled over, ensuring he pulled out of you slowly to lay down next to you, and immediately pulled you into his arms. 

“Did you enjoy the ride?” Wonwoo asked, smirking and making you laugh, despite the eye roll you gave him. 

“You know, I think god is fair. Not everything sounds sexy, even with that voice.”

[seineko]

diluc ragnvindr x reader

warnings: explicit (?), soft smut (explicitly non-explicit smut), very very self indulgent, not mentioned but diluc has very thicc arms

minors do not interact!

there are days on which you can feel the unconditional love overflowing out of your boyfriend.

those days usually leave you with a heart beating enough times to last you another lifetime, breaths so heavy, it feels like trying to survive underwater, and brain so empty, as if someone grabbed and squeezed out whatever was left in it.

because on those days, you end up on his lap; his back against the bedrest, your fingers grazing his scalp, legs encircled around him and mouth busy whimpering into his ear as he tries his best to draw a trail of red stars on your throat.

his lips, depending on his mood, are either completely glued to your neck, or slotted onto your mouth; tongue grazing the most sensitive parts in the most criminal way possible.

diluc sometimes forgoes his need to breathe to try and deepen the kiss, hands harshly pulling your hips closer. this is when your fingers untangle themselves from his hair, caressing both his cheeks with care, voice softly saying;

'hey,' and pulling up his chin to meet your eyes. ''m not going anywhere.'

and the pyro user takes this as his cue to bury his head into the deepest crevice of your neck, breath harsh and lips nibbling onto your skin.

his hands snake themselves under the shirt that you are wearing (most often than not one of his own), fingers ever so slightly trace circles on your skin, contrary to the almost vice like grip he has around your body.

the most unfair part though, is that he refuses to let you be incharge - even of your own movement.

it's agonizing, how his soft demeanor can command your obedience. how his gentle lips can paralyze your body, knowing exactly which centimetre to graze upon that numbs your body into submission - melting completely on top of him. how his arms protectively wrap themselves around you, making you feel like it is the safest place to exist in the entire universe.

days like these feel like an eternity in the best possible way. they leave you with both a sense of satisfaction, but also longing for another as soon as the reality sucks you out of the dream like trance.

most importantly, they make you feel like the luckiest person to exist because a diluc ragnvindr loves you more than words can describe.

©2023 by seineko @ tumblr

[onyxino]

Happy birthday, Aizen!

For Aizen's birthday here is some headcanons. Some SFW but its mostly just filth.

CW: Creampie. Oral F receiving. AFAB reader x Aizen. Dom/Sub dynamics used. Aizen is a whole warning himself. Slightly creepy and toxic Aizen. Panty sniffing and stealing. Cum play. Praise. Talk of sexual orientation. MDNI!!

Proof read like 3 times but my eyes fail me quite a bit

WC:1200

Safe For Work

I wholeheartedly believe that Sosuke is 100% capable of love. He just wouldn’t be able to recognize the emotion at first and would have a really big internal conflict regarding the matter. I think initially he would have the issue of not being able to tell the difference between obsession and love. Once he's finally figured out what he's feeling he’s now faced with the new issue of showing it because saying it is absolutely out of the question.

To expand further on my last headcanon, let's talk about Sosuke’s love languages! He has two forms of love language.

First would be gift giving. I think Sosuke would be very big into giving you anything you wanted as a sign of love. He believes you deserve nothing but the best so why not give it to you! You eye something at the mall for a little too long? Congrats, it’s yours now! Don’t even try to protest it belongs to you now so just take it. You do deserve the best after all.

Second form of Sosuke’s love language would most definitely have to be words of praise and affirmations. This man may have the hardest time saying those 3 big words but he will praise you from dusk to dawn.

“You’re doing just splendid, Dear. I’m quite pleased with your progress.” He says as he tucks a damp piece of hair behind your sweaty ear. This new training regiment he has you on is a killer but his words fuel you to keep going.

I plan to expand more on this in the NSFW portion! 

I definitely believe that Aizen would not use Kyoka Suigetsu on you. I can only see him using it on you in an event where it may be needed to protect you or prevent you from risking your own life if it came down to it. 

This man is the definition of LOYAL. Do not fret this man will not cheat. You’ll actually have the issue of him not leaving your side. In the world of the living, you want his phone? It's yours,  I mean you already know the password so just ask for it and he’ll hand it over. He will be a little upset that you don’t trust him but he understands you’ve probably been hurt before but believe me he will be asking for your phone in return.

I know a lot of these have been very wholesome but don’t get me wrong this is Sosuke AIzen we are talking about. He can and will be T O X I C. He has jealousy issues, make sure you aren’t talking to the pesky candy shop owner for too long or else you’ll be in trouble.

I believe he has the tendency to stalk as well. Trust me that man could tell you EXACTLY where you were at 12:30pm on July,3rd,2023. Even if you don’t remember he does.

Not Safe For Work

Sosuke Aizen is uncut. Plain and simple.

I headcanon him to be pansexual. I believe Sosuke has had experience with men, women and non-binary/androgynous people as well. I also do believe while he is pansexual and has had experience with all genders that he does have a preference. I can really see him being into Non-binary/Androgynous AFAB people. Honestly though if he likes you, he likes you and it doesn’t matter what kind of genitalia you have. I also believe that at one point in time even for a small amount of time he had a thing for Shinji Hirako (or maybe that's too self indulgent and I just want them to hate fuck.) 

While I do say he has had experience with people of all genders, I do not believe that Sosuke Aizen sleeps around. While being experienced he’s only had a few past partners for a couple of reasons. First being that he just doesn’t have time for such conquests due to being too busy with his plan for being the one at the top and all. Second being that Aizen only sleeps with people that he has a fondness for and for him it takes a long time to build up that trust. Being that naked and vulnerable around someone he barely knows just does not interest him at all. 

Sosuke is a dom at heart but he wouldn't mind (he actually really craves) soft and tender sex without the use of dom/sub dynamic. 

Sosuke has a huge thing for cum play. He loves the idea of covering you in his cum, it’s some sort of primal way for him to mark you as his. He also loves stuffing you full, creampie after creampie and then seeing it spill out of you drives him absolutely mad. Him knowing that you're so full of his cum that it's ruining your underwear and dribbling down your thighs as you go about your daily tasks gets him off.

To expand further on this it’s not just his cum he’s obsessed with it’s yours too. He loves when you squirt on his face as he’s eating you out, it does his ego wonders and on top of it all you taste like heaven to him. He is also absolutely in love with the sight of you creaming on cock, seeing that white ring of cum appear at the base of dick is just another thing that gets him off and feeds his already obese ego.

Sosuke Aizen love love loves to talk and that doesn’t change during sex either. He is very very vocal. He is the kind of man to talk you through it. He loves to deliver praise (In the most condescending way possible) as much he loves to degrade you.

“C’mon now, you can take it.” He coos in an almost praising yet degrading way as he cups your cheek in his soft yet calloused hand.

He has you on your back, tears staining your rosy cheeks. He’s halfway buried in you, if people saw you right now they’d think this was your first time taking his cock. Oh man, that couldn't be further from the truth, you swear every time up and down it will never fit. Every time you are proved wrong.

He pushes himself into you a little more, this earns him a whine that tumbles from your lips as you feel his girth stretch you out.

“That’s it, you’re doing so well. Now be good and take the rest of me, yeah? I know you can.” He says leaning down to bury his face into your neck. Then snapping his hips forward in one switch motion he’s sheathing himself completely inside of you. 

A strangled moan tears itself from your throat as you adjust to him. You take it now and you take it every time because Sosuke wouldn’t dare speak words to you that he knew to be falsehoods.

Sosuke is a panty sniffer/stealer. If you think you’re leaving your encounter with him with your underwear you’d be so wrong. It’s a trophy to him, a token of your memory for him as he sits on the edge of his bed stroking his length later that night after you’ve left. Wadded up fabric clutched in his hand pressing against his nose as he breathes deeply.

Bonus: He is definitely guilty of cumming in your underwear and forcing you to wear them all day.

Thanks for reading, I don't write often but i sure enjoy sharing when I do!

Tag list: @stygianoir @muzansfangs

[sailoryooons]

Hi Hali! I'm an August baby who is turning 35 next week (14th) ! I have a totally self-indulgent request for husband Yoongi planning something for his wife's (brownie points if she's older) birthday. I'll leave it up to you whether you want it to be fluff or smut.

❀ Pairing: Yoongi x f. reader

❀ Summary: Yoongi always likes to spoil you - especially if it’s your birthday. 

❀ Word Count: 823

❀ Genre: Established relationship, fluff

❀ Rating: SFW

❀ Warnings: Husband Yoongi is just tooth-rottingly sweet, brief kissis, recreational drinking, nothing crazy

❀ Published: August 14, 2023

❀ A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!! Allow thoughts of sweet husband Yoongi making dinner for you and then dancing away into the night to start your birthday off right!! I honestly dreeeeeam of Yoongi just doing something small and quiet for birthdays. I hope you have an amazing day!! Thank you so much for sending in a request! 

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

| Masterlist | Ask | Hali’s Happy Agust |

Yoongi is a perfectionist. He doesn’t like to admit that he is, but you know that when things don’t go exactly as he’s imagined, he can get a little irritated. It’s part of what makes you love him so much, his attention to detail and his vision.

Thankfully, his vision is paying off today. 

The rich smell of dinner greets you when you open the door, making you pause on the threshold. Somewhere from behind the entryway, the faint sound of piano drifts toward you. Sliding your shoes off, you push them so that they’re right next to the neat rows of other shoes, a mix of yours and Yoongi’s.

Coming around the corner of the entryway into the main kitchen, you feel a smile tug on your face at what greets you. 

Yoongi is in the kitchen, pan in hand as he plates a steak onto a plate. He looks up at you and beams, his gummy smile making your stomach flutter. He’s in jeans and a dark long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a kitchen towel over his shoulder, his hair slicked back and dashing as ever. 

No matter how many times you see him, you fall in love all over again. 

Flowers and wrapped gifts are placed neatly on the edge of the counter top. You inspect them as you near the kitchen. Yoongi puts down the now empty plate in the sink, flicking on the faucet to run water over the hot pan and let it soak. 

“No peeking,” he chides, flicking the water back off after washing his hands and drying them. “Those are after dinner presents only. Happy birthday.”

You pout. “Thank you, but I want them now?”

Yoongi comes around the counter, all smiles as he pulls you toward him by the waist. He smells like spicy cologne and a little bit of shampoo, enough to make your head spin. He presses his lips against yours gently, making you lean into him, fingers gripping his shirt. 

“There,” he mumbles against your lips. “That’s your pre-dinner present, hmm?”

“I enjoyed it. One more.”

He laughs but lets you pull him in for another kiss, soft and warm. He tastes a little bit like cherried wine, making you sigh before pulling apart from him. “I made your favorite.”

Another reason you love Yoongi dearly is for his cooking. You owe a little of it to Seokjin, who is the best cook you know, but Yoongi is a close second. Creating music isn’t his only outlet - creating food and dishes and even dabbling in baking is something Yoongi got into when you were in college, only improving his skills with access to more than just ramen and eggs. 

Now, you smile at him around a mouthful of juicy, wonderfully seasoned meat. He sits with his chair pulled close to you, arm brushing against yours as he asks how your day at work was. Fills your wine at all the appropriate times. Gives you a squeeze on the thigh just because he can. 

You can’t help but admire the way his cheeks flush on his third glass of wine. The way he watches you, dark eyes sparkling as he leans his chin in his palm while you talk about an upcoming project at work. You feel seen and heard, but most of all adored.

That adoration only intensifies when he finally lets you open your presents over a shared slice of cake. Especially when you open the first one to find a signed, first edition copy of one of your favorite books in the entire world, your heart swelling when you realize Yoongi must have seen you looking for it. 

Yoongi is always like that, though. Always observant, loving you in small ways. Like picking up your favorite foods when you've been particularly quiet during the work week, or jumping in the shower with you to rub the knots out of your shoulders. Fixing the broken shelf of your book case after having way too many books weighing it down. 

Looking at him, you feel your heart squeeze. Your perfect, adoring husband. 

With dinner plates cleared, Yoongi flicks the lights low in the apartment, grabbing you by the wrist and spinning you into his embrace. You laugh as you go, letting him sweep you up into an uncoordinated dance to the music. It’s really just swaying, but his arms are around you and your head is pressed against his chest, eyes fluttering shut. 

The sound of Yoongi’s steady heartbeat lulls you into a warm silence, love for him blooming tenfold. You want so many more birthdays with him. 

“Thank you,” you murmur. He hums, the sound vibrating against your ear. “I appreciate this so much.”

“You deserve the world on your birthday. After such a tough quarter, I thought you might like to relax.”

“You know me so well.”

“Hmmm.”

Your grip around him tightens. “Cheers to another trip around the sun with you.”

“And many more.” 

[lehguru]

FALLING FOR YOU + MONKEY D.LUFFY

how i think luffy in love would be like!!

warnings: part of fluff month, self indulgent af, gender neutral reader; not proofread + requests are open ! check pinned post for requesting rules

he doesn't really know what made him feel that way towards you. at first, when you joined the crew, he treated you like he treated everyone else; he was touchy, hyperactive, dumb and crazy. throughout the months that you spent together, he felt himself always looking for your company or, at least, wanting to have you on his sight.

luffy always wants to have part of your food, but he doesn't feel like taking it himself. it tastes a lot better when you feed it to him, after all!! he pouts and complains about how he's so hungry when you say you won't feed him, but denies anyone else that offers to do that.

sleepwalks to your bed. if you don't sleep in his bed already, he can and will simply go to yours and throw himself on top of you, his entire body and limbs wrapping around your own. if you end up waking up, he will soft up his grip just enough so you can get comfortable, but you're definitely not able to make him go back to his bed.

he wouldn't feel jealous of you giving attention to others. in fact, i think he would adore to see that you're getting along with the rest of the crew. luffy would just be a little bothered if sanji gets a little more touchy with you, but he would simply distract you – he doesn't really acknowledge the jealousy inside him.

even if he let his hat with nami and he would trust anyone in the crew with it, you're definitely the only person he would allow to stay with his straw hat for long periods. he left it with you for a entire week once; he only got it back when you started to feel bad with the crew noticing and commenting about it.

2023 © content belongs to lehguru, but the characters used in them belong to their respective creators!!

[mmmleckerlecker]

Snack Number Fourteen

Happy vore day 2023! Please enjoy this EXTREMELY self indulgent fic that’s been cooking in my brain for quite awhile now…

Summary: The predator had always prided himself on his self-control. And he really does like to make things last. Just another night with him and his (fourteenth) favorite snack.

Contents: m/m, cruel pred, willing pred, unwilling prey, non-fatal, pre-vore, partial digestion, post-vore (aka the main focus), regurgitation, I imagined a size-difference while writing but it’s never really specified

Wordcount: 5,301

* * * * * * * * * *

The predator came home that evening feeling exhausted. And absolutely starving.

He wished he could say that his work had ended once he’d left the office just a half hour ago, but he’d be lying. He knew very well that there was an extensive pile of paperwork just waiting for him on his desk at home. It really was going to be a long night.

Ah, well, no rest for the wicked and all that.

The predator did, fortunately, have at least one thing to look forward to that night, and he was very much looking forward to it. He could barely contain his excitement, nearly bouncing on his toes in a very un-predator-like fashion. But it had been so, so long. He could forgive himself this once for his lack of self-control.

And so the predator bounced his way upstairs, right to the locked doorway at the end of the hall. He pulled out a tiny silver key, slid it into the lock, and turned.

“Good evening, my little snack,” he said with a grin, flicking on the light of the now unlocked room. “You’re looking exceptionally… recovered tonight.”

The boy— fresh out of college, still so strong and vibrant— let out a groan.

“Please,” he begged as he squeezed himself into the farthest corner. “Not again. Please… just a little longer.”

The predator entered the room and smiled in a way which he considered warm and affectionate. Unfortunately, he must not have gotten it quite right because the closer he got, the more the boy only shrank and shivered away.

“Now, now,” the predator chided, crouching down in front of the boy. “It’s been weeks since last time. We’re more than overdue.” He reached out, ignoring the way his snack flinched away, and ran his fingers over the boy’s cheek. The flesh was riddled with burn scars but otherwise healthy. “See? You’ve already healed up.”

The boy didn’t answer. The predator tried smiling again, making sure to show all his teeth.

The boy had been living in this room for months now, which was a good deal longer than many of his predecessors. The predator had no inkling of the boy’s name, all he knew was that he was Number Fourteen. He didn’t really have any desire to learn the boy’s name either. To the predator, he was just another snack. The fourteenth snack, to be precise.

You see, the predator was a master of control, and whenever he found something he really liked, he liked to drag it out for as long as possible. When he was a boy, he once bought a lollipop that he enjoyed so much, he made it last for seven and one-quarter years. Every night like clockwork, he would take precisely one lick of the candy. No more, no less. Just enough to indulge in its sugary sweet flavor. And then he would carefully wrap it and put it away for the next day. He’d prided himself on his patience and pacing, even then.

Years later and the only thing that had changed were his tastes. Now his snacks were a bit more… complex.

“You’ll need to eat first, of course,” the predator continued to his snack. “And drink. We can’t have you getting de-hydrated now, can we?”

The boy was already shaking his head, but the predator didn’t pay him any mind. He knew what was best for his snack, what measures to take to make them last the longest. He’d gone through many trials and errors.

“Come now.”

The boy didn’t resist when the predator hoisted him to his feet. He’d given up fighting long ago. The predator led his snack down the hall, down the stairs, and into the dining room, where he bade him sit at the table. The boy obeyed, his scarred face looking utterly despondent.

“What do you say?” the predator asked as he opened one of the kitchen cabinets. “Beef stew for dinner? That is one of your favorites, isn’t it?”

This, of course, was a little inside joke between the two of them. Beef stew was the only thing the boy ever got for dinner. For some reason though, he didn’t seem to find this joke very funny. The predator let out a wistful sigh. Snack Number Thirteen would have laughed. Or at least offered one of the witheringly sarcastic remarks that he so loved. Even after all these months, the predator missed their heated banter.

The predator didn’t wait for an answer from his current snack before pulling one of the many cans of beef stew off the shelf. He poured it into a bowl, then very kindly heated it up in the microwave. He put the bowl and a cup of ice water on the table before the boy. The ice water was actually a special treat for tonight. Usually he only got room temperature water.

“Go on then,” the predator urged as he took the seat across from his snack. “Eat up!”

Ever so painfully slowly, the boy began to eat. The predator watched with keen interest. Every bite of food, every sip of water, every contraction of those beautiful throat muscles, just made him all the more hungry. He drummed his fingers impatiently on the table. Snack Number Fourteen shifted the spoon in his hand and cleared his throat.

“You don’t have to watch me eat,” he mumbled, eyes firmly locked on his half-empty bowl.

“Oh, but I very much do,” the predator told him, resting his chin in his hand. “I need to make sure you eat everything. And I need to know exactly when you’re done and ready. And besides that… I do enjoy watching my snacks feed themselves.”

The boy’s fingers squeezed at the handle of his spoon before he took one more deliberate bite.

Number Six had been a slow eater too. Even slower than Number Fourteen, surprisingly. She seemed to think she could put off the inevitable if she ate at the pace of a turtle in slow motion. The predator had always found that amusing. He had the patience of a saint, and a bowl of stew could only be stretched out for so long.

The predator smiled lazily at the memory. This seemed to unnerve his snack who happened to glance up at that moment. With a small intake of breath, the boy began scooping his stew with a bit more purpose than before.

In a few more minutes, the only thing he had left were a few last swallows of water. The predator watched, nearly quivering with anticipation. The last drops of water rolled so, so slowly past the boy’s lips. He swallowed. He set his glass down.

The predator lunged, unable to wait any longer. In the blink of an eye, he had the boy by his shirt and was yanking him across the table. Silverware, cup, and bowl were knocked carelessly to the side. The chair toppled backward as the boy kicked his feet, struggling fruitlessly as he was dragged across the table.

Snack Number Fourteen only managed a small cry of surprise before he was cut off by his head being shoved unceremoniously into the predator’s mouth.

The predator’s eyes fluttered shut and he let out a little moan of contentment. The first taste was always the best part, in his opinion. He took his first swallow, felt the way his throat stretched, and then had second thoughts on that opinion. Actually, he thought, it was the first swallow that was the best part. His fingers curled into the boy’s shirt, clinging to him and pulling him in further.

Ignoring the way his snack groped blinding at his face, the predator took another swallow. The boy’s shoulders stretched his throat even more and gave the added bonus on impeding his snack’s assault.

The predator considered the possibility of the second swallow being the best part.

He continued this reassessment after each greedy gulp. The third one began stretching his ribs apart in a sickeningly satisfying way. The fourth one saw him halfway through, right at the boy’s hips. It was at this point, Snack Number Fourteen’s head finally entered the predator’s stomach and the predator let out an involuntary shiver. He was sure now that the fourth swallow had to be the best part. Nothing could surpass this feeling.

But then he took his fifth swallow and he was forced to scoot his chair backwards, away from the table, to make room for his now rapidly expanding middle. His sixth swallow had his stomach stretching so much, he really didn’t think it could get any better than this, but then he was only at his snack’s knees! A seventh swallow and only the boy’s toes remained out in the open.

The predator touched a delicate hand to his throat so he could feel the last of his snack sliding down. He took his eighth swallow and closed his mouth as Snack Number Fourteen disappeared fully behind his lips. The last of the boy went smoothly down his throat, and the predator winced as his belly was stretched to maximum capacity. He even winced as it pressed painfully into the table he’d so politely just pushed himself away from.

Somewhat annoyed, he took another difficult scoot backwards, freeing himself from the confines of the table edge. Once a safe distance from the table, he allowed himself to relax in his chair. His eyes fell shut and his hands wandered quite greedily to the now healthy curve of his belly. A deep contentment spread through him as his fingers searched out the shape of his snack.

The boy, for his part, was shifting and stretching within, most likely trying to find the closest approximation to a comfortable position. Somehow the predator doubted there were many such positions in there, but really that was none of his concern. For his part, he was in heaven. And there was only one thing that could make it better.

With a dreamy sigh, he gave in and let his stomach come to life with the beginnings of digestion.

A wave of pleasure crashed over the predator, easing away the stress of his work day and making all that paperwork seem like a distant memory. If he could live in one moment forever, it would be this one. Full, warm, carefree. Even his snack could barely keep still. Although, it was doubtful from any kind of pleasure. More likely it would be the discomfort that came from slowly being digested alive.

He’d be perfectly safe however. Maybe a little worse for wear, but he’d come back up in one piece when the predator was through with him. Probably. You see, this is where the predator’s superior self control came in handy. His snacks were just too good to finish off altogether, so he’d learned just how much to slow his digestion and just how long they could last under those conditions. The boy was his lollipop, and once the predator had indulged in his single taste, he’d put him back in his wrapper for next time.

After several minutes of lounging comfortably and gently kneading his stomach into submission, the predator decided he’d stalled long enough. There was a pile of paperwork with his name on it just waiting for him.

But as he sat upright, the chair squeaking in protest, he realized just how sleepy his snack had made him. And though he fought so very valiantly to convince himself that work was more important, the need for sleep won out. He deserved a little nap, didn’t he? He’d been working terribly hard lately. Of course he deserved it.

So with the resolution that it would only be a very short nap, the predator hefted himself to his feet and slowly made his way to the bedroom. The journey was made somewhat difficult by the suddenly very lively weight in his middle, scrambling for purchase with each step, but the predator fought through such tribulations with barely a moan of protest.

The softness of his bed called to him and he fell into it without hesitation. He felt his snack pushing back as it was unceremoniously pinned between his weight and the bed, but the sleep now overtaking the predator left him quite unbothered by his snack’s inconvenient location.

As his eyes fell shut, the predator double checked that he had his stomach under control and promised himself once more that this nap would only last a short while.

And then he knew no more.

* * * * * * * * * *

When the predator awoke, he found himself unusually groggy. He blinked and yawned in the half-light of his room, wondering why he didn’t feel his usual peppy self after a good, hearty nap. It wasn’t until he tried to sit up and found himself impeded by the weight in his middle that he remembered what was going on.

He checked the time and was aghast at how late it was. Internally, he scolded himself for being so careless. Where was his usual sense of self control? Not only that, but he was further worried by how unusually still the weight in his stomach was.

He grimaced as he looked down at the curve of his belly. He liked to pretend his snacks were lollipops that would last ages if he was careful enough— one little taste at a time, but sometimes they felt more like a piece of gum— chew it up and spit it out ad nauseam, but grow too careless and you could swallow it, make it gone for good after just one tiny mistake.

If he wanted to get technical, he could say that this was how he’d lost most, or rather all, his previous snacks. He’d get distracted just one time for a little too long and his stomach had its way with them. Tragic, really. So many snacks gone too soon when they still had so much to offer.

“Hello, in there?” the predator called as he poked at his engorged tummy. He felt some small hope in finding whatever was inside to still be relatively solid. “Are you still kicking in there, Number Fourteen?”

The predator jumped in surprise when he received what felt like a kick to his stomach walls.

“Oh!” he said as a second kick (for good measure, he assumed) struck another uncomfortable blow. “I thought I’d finished you off in my sleep!” he told his snack in excitement. “But you’re doing surprisingly well in there, it seems. I think you could last for another few hours at most!”

There was a pause in which the predator was sure his snack was processing this exciting new opportunity, and then Number Fourteen went absolutely feral, struggling with a ferocity he’d seemingly given up on after the first five or six times he’d been been swallowed down. The predator was impressed. His current snack was now rivaling the persistence of Snack Number Four. That one never seemed to grow exhausted or give up.

“Yes, yes,” the predator offered his assurances as he kneaded his snack back into submission, “I know you’re just as elated as I am to spend more time together.”

Another kick.

The predator gave his belly a firm squeeze, coaxing the contents within to cooperate. “But you’ll need to try to contain yourself. Or would you rather continue acting up? It does get rather difficult to control my stomach when you’re moving so deliciously about.”

His snack went deathly still.

“Thought so.”

With only a negligible amount of difficulty, the predator pushed himself out of bed and stumbled out of the room. His snack came back to life as the movement jostled it about. The predator clutched at his belly as it cramped up. He never did like walking on a full stomach.

Finally, he reached his desk. His office chair sat invitingly before a not-so-inviting looking stack of papers. He frowned, still fighting off the grogginess from his earlier nap. Even with the comfort of a full belly and a reinvigorating nap, doing paperwork felt about as desirable as pulling teeth. His own teeth, of course. The predator had never pulled someone else’s teeth, but he thought it would likely be more interesting than paperwork.

The predator turned his thoughts over and over in his head, looking for something, anything that could make the task at hand even just a tad bit more enticing.

The predator snapped his fingers as his thoughts clicked into place.

“That’s it!” he exclaimed before heading back to the kitchen, still clutching his belly to keep the both of them steady.

Yes, he’d had one snack, but why not a second snack? And not a special snack like Number Fourteen. But just a normal snack, something to munch on. Oh, he did love to munch, and his snacks absolutely loathed sharing space with actual food. They always got disgruntled and squirmy, just enough so that the predator got a pleasant internal massage out of it.

The predator threw open his pantry with relish and began digging through the shelves for something of interest. This proved to be a more difficult task than usual as the weight in his middle continually threatened to throw him off balance whenever he leaned down for a closer look. Thankfully, the predator was never one for quitting and he fought valiantly not to fall flat on his face (an effort he was sure his snack appreciated as well). After an arduous battle with the pantry shelves and his own stomach, the predator emerged victorious with his prize in hand. A somewhat simple bag of potato chips, never before opened. Now this was sure to motivate him to his paperwork.

The predator was halfway back to his desk before he fully considered the consequences of choosing such a salty snack. Of course he’d need a beverage to wash it down with, it was only sensible. He turned on his heel, then nearly turned into a topple as he forgot he was quite belly-heavy at the moment. His non-potato chip snack braced itself awkwardly against his stomach walls while the predator readjusted himself.

Next thing, in a series of events much like in the pantry, the predator was rifling through the refrigerator. When he finally stepped away, he was carrying a bottle of only the finest of cherry colas and glad to be upright and well-balanced again.

With a certainty that he was finally prepared for that hateful pile of paperwork, the predator returned to his desk. He pulled out his chair and fell into it with a grateful sigh. It was always terribly tiresome carrying around so much extra weight. It took some adjusting, lowering his seat so there was room for his belly beneath the desk, and spreading his knees so the weight of his snack didn’t cut off his circulation, but finally the predator could comfortably rest his elbows on the desk and start writing.

With a very satisfying burst of salty scents, he tore open the bag of chips. He took a bite and gave an agreeable hum. Of course Snack Number Fourteen was his favored thing to eat, but they just didn’t provide the pleasurable crunch of a good potato chip.

The predator couldn’t suppress a small smile when he swallowed and felt the consequent twitch of surprise from Number Fourteen.

“Sorry about that,” he said, patting his stomach and hoping he was hitting somewhere close to his snack’s back. He wasn’t actually sorry. In fact, he quite liked the idea of all his favorite foods in one place, but it didn’t seem very politic to say so aloud.

He apologized and patted his stomach/maybe-Number-Fourteen’s-back again when he took a swig of soda for the first time. Number Fourteen gave a jab of annoyance and a very unsuccessful shifting of positions, but other than that the predator didn’t get any further protests from his snack.

“Right then,” the predator mumbled as he leafed through his papers, “I guess the only thing left to do is get started.”

And so he did. The next few hours were nothing but the scratching of his pen and the munching of his chips. His snack was restless for a great deal of it, particularly when the predator swallowed down some soda, but nothing too distracting. It probably helped that the chips and cola barely lasted through the first hour.

When his one hand was free, the predator would rest it distractedly on his middle, appreciating the warmth his slow digestion provided. He could feel, and occasionally hear, his stomach working ever so slowly over the contents within. It was all the same to his stomach— chips, soda, another living being. It plodded along relentlessly with its one job, contracted and breaking down whatever was put into it. It brought a certain kind of awe to the predator, and he loved to help it along with the occasional doting rub.

The predator didn’t notice it happening, but all of a sudden the hour was very late. He stared at the time for a few moments, not quite comprehending how so much of it had already passed. Come to think of it, he thought as he straightened out his now completed pile of paperwork, he hadn’t felt any movement from his snack in quite awhile.

“You still hanging on in there?” the predator asked, pressing his fingers into the curve of his belly. He couldn’t help but cringe as it felt like the form of his snack was much softer than it previously had been.

“Oh dear,” he said softly. And he really had been doing so well with this one.

He was just about to give up and go to bed so his stomach could finish up the job, when he felt the weakest of movement come from deep within his middle.

“Ah, so you are still alive in there!”

As if to exacerbate his point, his snack gave another commendable effort at moving.

“Right, just one moment then,” the predator said, clumsily pushing himself away from his desk and hoisting himself upright again. “Don’t want to dirty up my office, you understand.”

Number Fourteen gave a terrible shudder as the predator began his somewhat uncomfortable walk to the bathroom. The predator cringed again with each step. The contents of his stomach felt somewhat less… solid than when he’d made his earlier trip to the kitchen. He’d really goofed up this time, hadn’t he?

He hesitated once he made it to the bathtub. There was a fine line between lightly simmered in stomach acids but still salvageable versus broken down beyond repair yet still somehow clinging to life. The last thing he wanted was to deal with a quickly expiring snack in his bathtub. He really didn’t think he could manage swallowing them down again after that. Maybe it would be better for everyone if he gave up and just went to bed, letting his stomach finish off Number Fourteen.

The predator frowned as he stroked his hand in circles over the now softened surface of his belly.

Oh, but finding a new snack was so difficult. And he really did enjoy Number Fourteen, even if the boy sorely lacked a sense of humor.

“I really hope you’re not too far gone,” he told his snack with a new sense of resolve.

With a practiced contracting of muscles, the predator began the awfully distasteful process of bringing his snack back up. While he enjoyed keeping his snacks around for as long as possible, he couldn’t say that he quite enjoyed this part of the process. If he could simply make his snack re-appear outside of his stomach, he’d lead a much happier life. But alas. Such are the sacrifices he makes to get what he wants.

After much heaving and gagging, Snack Number Fourteen pushed its way back up the predator’s throat to land in a sloppy heap on the bathtub floor.

The boy groaned as the predator leaned down to inspect him.

“I thought you weren’t gonna let me out this time.” Snack Number Fourteen’s voice was hoarse and he wheezed with each breath.

The predator cleared his throat to hide his embarrassment. The boy really was in the worst shape he’d ever seen.

“Well,” the predator started, looking for the right words, “sorry about that.”

The boy gave him a blood-shot look of pure loathing.

“I really didn’t mean to go this far,” the predator continued, unabated. “I simply got so caught up in my work that I… forgot about you. You know how it is.”

“I really don’t,” the boy replied, sounding much like what the predator imagined sandpaper would sound like if it could speak.

The predator decided the best thing to do in this situation would be to pretend he hadn’t heard his snack. So instead, he grabbed the shower head and reached for the faucet. “Why don’t we get you washed up then?”

The snack let out a startled cry as the cold water washed over his angry, red skin. The predator quietly apologized again, but it was no matter. A minute later and his snack lay motionless, eyes fallen shut with exhaustion as he let the predator clean off all the wayward stomach acid from his skin. The predator was quite adept at this— starting at the top, where the more sensitive skin was, and working his way down. There was something very satisfying about starting the process of restoring his snack all over again. But even after the predator had finished, the boy lay sprawled on the bathtub floor, eyes closed, chest rising and falling.

The predator kept silent. He did feel a little guilty. Not only that, but also a little frustrated. With his snack in this state, it would take weeks for him to be strong enough for another round in his stomach. Perhaps it was karma for the predator’s own hubris. He prided himself on his self-control, but a momentary lapse in focus had left him with his prized Number Fourteen in this horrific state. Maybe it would have been easier if he’d just accepted his loss and gone to bed. At least he could start off with a new snack right away.

The predator gave a mental shrug.

Ah well, no use crying over spilled milk and all that.

“Why don’t we get some aloe on you?” he suggested once he could no longer stand waiting for his snack to come out of whatever state he was in. Patience was a virtue, of course, but it was getting very late and the predator needed his beauty sleep just as much as anyone.

The boy’s eyes flicked open and slid to look at him.

“Fine,” was his only word.

The boy pulled himself out of the tub and took a careful seat on the edge of the closed toilet. The predator did a thorough job slathering him in aloe, something the boy seemed to appreciate.

After a failed attempt at getting the boy to walk back to his room on his own, the predator was forced to carry him there. He wondered if the boy really was so weak from his injuries that he couldn’t stand or if he was only feigning weakness as a sort of punishment for the predator’s neglectfulness. The predator supposed, in a way, this arrangement wasn’t much different than earlier, except now he held his snack in his arms, not his belly.

“Home sweet home,” the predator commented as he pushed his way into Number Fourteen’s room.

The boy began squirming at the sight of it. He made a little sound, like a cross between a groan and a growl.

“I know you’re ecstatic to see it again,” the predator told him. “Especially since you almost didn’t make it back this time.”

The boy stopped squirming. The predator deposited him on the cot at the far end of the room.

“Wait there for a moment, please,” he told the boy before heading out of the room. The boy didn’t respond, he just laid very still on his tiny bed, staring at the ceiling. The predator made sure he locked the door behind him.

He headed to the pantry and pulled out two large plastic bottles of water and another bottle of sports drink for good measure. He was about to make a beeline back to his snack when he stopped. After a night like this, the predator usually waited until the next day to give his snack anymore food, but he had nearly digested the poor boy alive this time. He didn’t want to ruin the perfectly good rapport they had developed over these special months together.

He scanned the pantry shelves for something he could give the boy as an apology. Something that really said, “Sorry I got distracted and nearly sent you on a one-way trip to my bowels.” Even the predator grimaced at such a thought.

He took some time considering all his options, until he settled on what seemed the best one. A halfway finished jar of cocktail peanuts. The jar was halfway empty because they were quite good, and the predator picked it up with a sense of satisfaction, certain he’d made the best choice to demonstrate his deepest condolences.

When he re-entered the room, he found that the boy hadn’t moved from his frankly despondent state on the bed. The predator approached, keeping the peanuts hidden from view, and set one of the water bottles and the sports drink on the wobbly bedside table.

“Get up,” he commanded the boy, prodding him with the other water bottle. “You need to drink. Being burned can leave you very badly dehydrated.” And then he stopped and re-considered. “Or at least sunburns can. I’m not too sure about stomach acid burns as, well, you know, I’ve never had the privilege of being partly digested.”

These words roused the boy. With hiss of pain, he pushed himself into a sitting position and gave the predator one his favorite looks to give— a venomous stare.

He still took the bottle and began chugging the water, stray dribbles running down his cheeks and over his exposed throat.

“I do have something extra for you,” the predator told him, unable to hide his delight. “Something special.”

The boy stopped drink immediately. “What is it?” he asked, sounding almost excited for once.

“Here!” The predator said, unable to wait any longer. He shoved the jar of peanuts toward his snack.

The boy looked down at it and blinked.

“It’s an apology of sorts,” the predator explained. “You know, since I went a little too far this time. I honestly feared you wouldn’t make the night if I let you out, and I almost gave up on you. But look at you now! I’m sure you’ll be ready for another round in no time!”

The boy’s face fell and his eyes went cold and empty. “Thanks,” he said, the word devoid of any of his earlier excitement.

“Of course, my snack,” the predator told him as jovial as ever. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it then.”

Snack Number Fourteen didn’t answer. Only gave him a look of searing hatred, his blood-shot eyes somehow burning brighter than before.

The predator only gave him a reassuring smile as he closed the door.

“Goodnight, my snack. Until next time.”

He locked the door tight behind him.

And in just a few minutes, the predator had fallen into bed, finally letting a real, deep sleep overcome him. Despite a few bumps in the road, tonight had been a very fulfilling night. The only thing left empty now was his stomach, which grumbled quietly, eagerly awaiting the next time it would get to spend a few hours working over Snack Number Fourteen.