#Pinterest board saving my fucking life

[hoseoksluna]

STEAM | myg ft. jjk

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

genre: smut

word count: 9.2k

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

playlist: steam / pinterest board: steam

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Showers with him are something else.

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

That has become your new version of hot long showers.

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

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

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

You feel him everywhere.

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

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

That’s a good girl. Messy for me. 

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

It’s a part of the solo girl's night.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He is not, in fact, on his way home. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Naked. 

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

And with that, he hangs up. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You made Yoongi drink a lot of water. 

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

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

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

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

Your leg jitters harder. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your arousal returns at full speed.

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi coos. “Good girl.” 

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

“Can I feel how wet you are?” 

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

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

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

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

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

You grin at him. “Sorry, Yoongi.” 

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

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

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

The only answer you emit is an uncouth whine. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Spank my pussy again, please.” 

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

“Apologize first.” 

“You didn’t tell me how.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Roses, opening. Roses, sighing. 

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

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

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

Such a stark, sudden change. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Keep your legs where they belong.” 

“No.”

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

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

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

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

“You want to get fucked by someone else?” 

A question for a question. 

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

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

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

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

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

Truthfulness, at last.

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

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

You fight against it. 

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

And you decide to repeat history. 

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

The breath Yoongi inhaled hitches in his throat. 

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

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

And then, you collect your essence again. 

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

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

Yoongi growls. Then, he surprises you. 

He parts his lips for you. 

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

You’re in charge. And it feels divine. 

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

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

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

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

And then—then he manhandles you. 

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

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

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

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

You gulp, frozen, eyes widening. 

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

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

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

Yoongi pulls back, setting your hands free. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi has had enough. 

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

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

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

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

You moan his name, gone—entirely gone. 

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

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

“You, Yoongi, you. Fuck, I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With that, he hangs up. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi loses his mind. 

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

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

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

But you don’t let him take charge. 

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

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

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

You hold onto his neck with your dear life. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it’s you who checks up on him. 

“You sure you’re okay with this?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist / READ part two 

[writingoddess1125]

Deal with the Devil

This is honestly just a Comedy no idea what this is 🤣

GNReader x AU Demon Buggy

Art Belongs to Vamos_MK on Twitter!

If you like Click Here <-

"You Fucking Asshole!" (Y/N) screamed, Tossing their phone across the room as you stood there.

Your Rotten Bastard of a Boyfriend- Best to say Ex now!

You'd done everything for him.. wrote his resume, got him job interviews, washed his crusty underwear!

He had wrecked your apartment, drained your saving all for what? The hope of God damn magic!

Yes Fucking magic-

He was a pinterest board having Half ass 'Witch' that claimed he was of a Witch blood line.

Maybe it was that Witch bloodline that lead him to stick his dick in some random as twink at the Bar!

"Fuck You!" You screamed in the air, sobbing as you rushed to your liquor cabinet- It wasn't like you had much but you grabbed the quarter bottle of vodka and the rum. It would do-

Playing terrible break up music you drank away your sorrows- Sobbing hysterically into your carpeted livingroom floor as you finished the vodka, You tossing the empty bottle across the room causing it to shatter.

Stumbling up, you waddle to the kitchen- in state deciding a cup was finally smart-

In you drunken stooper you grabbed a 711 cup from the counter wanting to pour more booze in it- but pausing when you saw it. Your EX's book of shadows- Aka a Dollar Tree Notebook were he stashed his stupid spells and random pages he pirated from the internet. Picking it up and getting ready to throw it in the trash with the rest of your EX's shit when you finally sober up-

But opened it randomly seeing a folded up peice of paper tucked I to the sides. Rolling your eyes you open it and see a well worn page, however it wasn't ancient by any means- the witches.com emblem in the corner cluing you in to that. But in big bold letters on the top said 'SUMMON A DEMON TO DO YOUR BIDDING!' Easy how to guide.

Fuck it- What did you have to lose! Your drunken hazy mind reasoned. Flicking the Dollar Tree book to an random page and tossing it down on the coffee table-

Looking through you saw the ingredients needed. Food, A liquid, lighter, a Vessel and DNA. Chuckling at the rather basic guide you plopped down and poured off a quarter of your bottle of Rum in the 711 cup-

"We recommend 'moon water'- Welp you're getting Captian Morgan-" You laugh as you pour more of the rum into your mouth, hissing at its burn as you look at the next instructions.

"Alright food- We recommend a herb or item you have a dee- fuck that" You grumble looking around and seeing some leftovers from the corner store. Taking the stale hotdog that had been on your table far too long.

"Fuck it- A hotdog will do" You said with a cackle as you shoved it into the cup without care.

"Now play music to set your intent-" You read, Laughing at the weirdness of this all.

"Music huh! Then we shall play the song of my God damn love life!"

With a crying laugh, you opening up your music app and playing what felt appropriate- Circus Music.

"Now last add DNA- May it be hair, Blood, nails. Ha! Yeah right. Got your DNA right here-" You say and spit into the 711 cup like a redneck spitting chew.

(DONT DO THIS AT HOME) after this you look at the instructions- 'Light the alcohol on fire and focus on your intentions' Pulling a lighter out you set the alcohol ablaze and sat there letting the circus music and smell of burning plastic and hotdogs fill your senses.

'I want to get fucked up and beat up a fucking loser!-' Was the only thing you thought before starting to feel yourself starting to black out. Not noticing the flames beginning to burn a bright blue as the shadows of the room wirled around you and took a solid mass.

Soon a shadowy figure eclipsed your form as a the smell of candy apples filled the room.

"HOW ARE YOU SUMMON THE GREAT AND MIGHTY BUGGY THE CLOWN DE-...." He stopped during his monolog and stared at his summoner- passed out on the couch infront of the coffee table while holding the now out lighter used to summon him and a half burned plastic cup, slouched over in a clearly drunken stooper and groaning loudly from discomfort. Waving his hand it detached and tossed the dirty cup into the sink noting the piles of moldy dishes that stopped the fire- Buggy glanced around now, noticing the dirty apartment and disgusting everything of the place.

He cringed at the sight- Looking to you and shaking your shoulder to catch your attention.

"Oi- You. Please tell me you aren't the fucker who summoned me-" He begged, watching you roll your head around confused stating up at the man before you. He wore what looked like a pirate get up- with a bright cherry nose and bright blue hair that reminded you of the sea-

You opened your mouth, prepared to tell this dude to get out of your house- Before that oh so familiar feeling hit you and you puked all over his pants and shoes in a aray of alcohol and chips.

The man giving a short scream at this as he stood there petrified.

"I'm sorry-" You managed before passing out. Leaving the clown standing there with a look of total disgust on his face as he stared at the fresh vomit all over him.

"YOUVE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!"

[jell0buss-37]

you are doing gods work with all of this peter b. parker content, thank you for your service!

can I request peter b. parker headcanons on how he deals with having a crush on the reader? a human disaster basically.

Thank you so much for liking my stories! I love this idea, and rather than my usual friends to lovers approach for Peter B, I decided to make it more of a celebrity crush 😉

Part 1, Part 2

Reporter!Peter B having a crush on Actress!Reader!

He's such a cutie patootie

As an avid horror movie fan, of course he knew about you

You were one of the top scream queens in some of the most iconic slasher, monster, paranormal, etc. Films

It was always a secret dream of his when he joined the Daily Bugle to one day do an interview with any actor

As a man who can't act at all himself, he's always been envious of those who can

Putting on a mask was the closest he ever got to being someone else

He totally has a Pinterest board of your different characters

Totally doesn't have a poster he commissioned of your role in a zombie movie sitting in his room

Is totally the type to have a bunch of edits of you saved in his phone

For one birthday his buddy Ned got him this joke shirt with your face on it saying "I love Lana Del Rey" with pictures of you on it (I have a shirt of Pedro Pascal that says "I love Timothee Chalamet" on it)

Always joked that if he ever met you, he'd cry

That was until he got the chance to actually interview

He has never volunteered quicker to handle a report about someone that wasn't spiderman

Bro went on a whole makeover day immediately to get himself looking spic and span for you

Fresh new cut, clean shaved, new suit, new cologne

Plus a pedicure but he'll never admit that

He binged all of your best roles and wrote down so many different questions for the interview and quizzed himself on trivia

Has a bunch of questions from "fans" on note cards

"Peter... Are you fans?"

The interview is basically over your career and what's next for you and some of your personal life

On the day of the interview he was so excited and nervous

He's thought of a million different scenarios that could happen, one of them being that you'd fall madly in love with him

He was also scared you'd be snotty and mean

No matter what, he was a big fan and honored to do this interview for you

The interview was basically in a coffee shop. It wasn't anything that was gonna be recorded or anything, so he didn't have to worry about looking all macho in front of a camera. That and this way he can ask even more questions

He planned to get there at least an hour early, way too excited. And he didn't want you to wait

Was beyond shocked and thrown off by you already being there, waiting before ordering

Had he gotten the wrong time???

Had he been late???

How long were you waiting!?

Yet all he could do was stand frozen in front of the entrance, his mouth hung open, staring at you with wide eyes

You were reading a book, looking so peaceful and patient

He was scared that he had built up this image of you in his mind, and that reality wouldn't add up to his fantasy

But seeing you right there, who could blame him for getting his hopes up

You feel eyes on you, and look up to see a man standing there and staring

You never understood why people would put you on this high pedestal, seeing you as some sort of savior, too scared to touch you

But you were always so grateful for your fans, hell, they were the reason you were where you were today

And so rather than getting uncomfortable, you simply smile, setting your book down, walking over to the door

Might as well make the first move

FUCK

Fuck fuck fuck

You were walking over oh god

His knees became weak, his palms suddenly sweaty

Before he could run away though, you had cracked the door open, peaking out at him

"Yes? Who is it?" You joked

It was so simple, but it felt like he had been slapped in the face. It was so... Cute

You opened the door all the way, holding a hand out to him in greeting

"You must be Peter B. Parker from the Bugle! I'm (Y/n)!"

".... U-uh hello name my Peter-"

WHAT

HUH

'nAmE mY pEtEr!??'

But you just laughed. Not at him, but you thought it was charming

Thank God

You explain that you'd been in the area searching for a book, and decided to sit in the shop and read it until he got there

You also noticed he was early, but didn't mention it

All he did was nod, keeping his mouth shut in gear he'd say something stupid again

You both go up to the counter, a teenager taking your order

You had placed your order, just a (favorite drink) and (favorite snack)

He commits it to memory

You give his arm a squeeze, telling him you'll wait at the table you got for you guys

Holy shit she's touching him-

He swallows thickly, nodding and smiling at you

"You good dude? I wouldn't worry. All first dates are awkward." The teen tells him

His heart skips at the thought of this being a date, his face going red

He places his order, and the teen gasses him up, being a hype man

"You got this dude!!"

Thank you kid

He shakes off his previous nervousness, his nerve and confidence coming back to him

He finds that your actually a lot more nice and quiet than he thought

You always played confident, loud characters, occasionally a dumb bimbo, and only sometimes were you the quiet character

He always liked those roles the most. They felt more real

You told him everything, listening to all of his questions carefully, indulging in his geeky theories

"You know, I've never told anyone this, but I actually love reading the fanfiction that my fans make for me."

His face lights up at this, and he promises to keep that out of the interview

You even ask him questions about himself, to which he tells you, albeit a bit shyly

But you listen with so much intent, his heart skips a beat again

By the end of the interview, it felt like you two had known eachother forever

He didn't even get to bust out his note cards of nerdy questions, but he wasn't complaining

"Wow, we got that done so fast! Honestly, it'd be a shame to waste the evening. Would you maybe wanna go get a bite to eat?"

It's as if one of his enemies had thrown him against a wall and knocked the wind from his lungs

YOU??? Asking HIM out!??

"Ha- I, uh, food good yes-"

PETER-

"O-oh! Great! I know this great Italian restaurant a couple blocks that way, I just know it'll blow your socks off!"

He was fangirling so hard right now

Let's just hope you don't wanna go back to his place afterwards though. He'd die of embarrassment at all of the memorabilia he has

[xen2writes]

bakugou taking you shopping and spoiling you 😫

you sent this months ago, m sorry for getting to you so late but life happens so i hope you understand

pairing: rich bf! bakugou x fm!reader

word count: 628

he will he will !!

doesn't see the point of having so much money if he can't even let his partner have fun with it.

yk those tiktoks of guys taking pics of whatever their partner touches on the shelves while shopping?? yeah he's that bf EXCEPT he put them in the cart immediately instead of taking a pic 😩 you might have to physically put them away yourself if you don't actually want it cause he thinks you're just saying no to save his money and shit. will pout and glare at you the whole time you're emptying the cart from things you actually don't need.

"why the fuck did you take out 14 items from the cart" he huffs while pouting

"'cause i don't need 7 kinds of mascara and 7 different kinds of eyeliner!"

also asks you to make a pinterest board of the style you love recently to help you pick out clothes while shopping. if he will be overseas for some mission and he sees some accessory or some certain type of fabric or dress that you had saved in your board he will buy it on spot. at times you may forget what you had saved in that board but he will 100% remember it just to have a chance to come across something you love and spoil you.

"didn't you save this top on your board"

"huh?? i did?? omg babe you remember!"

"course i fuckin' do baby, gonna tell you if i see something else from there again" HEART EYES FRFR

clings to your waist when you're looking through clothes and whispers what he thinks in your ear.

"hmm think this will go well with the skirt i got earlier, right?"

"yeah, it's so hot baby, you will look so good, always do my pretty baby"

he will catch you holding two things and contemplating which one to get cause you love both of them and he will just come over, grab both of them and put it in your cart. it always leaves you speechless.

never lets you contemplate, if you like two of them you get two of them.

if you like six of them then you get six of them.

"which one do you think look better suki?"

"s' hard to decide for you baby, everything looks good on ya" grabs both of the dresses you'd just tried on that you were holding in your hands and puts them in the cart and looks SOO proud while he walks away with it and you just stand there like 🧍🏻‍♀️😦

looks for chances to take you shopping, he's just so desperate to show you his love in every way. it's the weekend? how about going to the various brand stores and look what's new and perhaps let your big rich bf get it for you? holiday? shopping. festival? shopping. made plans to go out with friends? how about getting a new outfit for that day!

he will also hide the price tags with his hands if you keep looking at them. let's say you love this dress but by the fabric of the dress alone you can tell it costs enough to not have a second thought before dropping it.

"looks so pretty baby, let's get it"

"-but it looks a little too.."

he sighs as he takes the dress from your hands and you both look at the price tag, your eyes almost pop out of their sockets at the big bold $80,000

"i thought you said its expensive" he scoffs as he walks ahead with the dress in his hands and an arm circling around your waist and you're just left looking up at him with your jaw kissing the core of the earth.

rich bf things 😮‍💨

tagging: @iiilovemilfs @katsukis1wife @beanieesbnha

drop your @ to be added in my taglist !

[4pplec0re]

mostly bodies. hair and faces and anatomy. maybe coloring, but i don't usually color my work so don't be obliged to answer that

i appreciate the help :)

alright i’ll try my best 🙏 just for u anon

my biggest tip (kind of general. but yeah) is to not let yourself get to the point of absolutely hating drawing. sometimes i won’t be able to figure out how to draw something and genuinely get so upset that i have to walk away for a while, and that’s okay! after i calm down (and maybe have a snack LOL), i go back to it. sometimes i even restart my sketch entirely if i think it’s beyond saving, and usually the next attempt comes out good :)

you’ve heard this a million times before, i’m sure, but references references references. they were Not lying when they said you should use references. i use them all the time even now. a big thing that helped me was sketching over top of a picture of someone doing whatever pose i want to draw, breaking it down into shapes, and doing a second sketch on top of that one of the actual anatomy. if you’re interested i have quite a few references on this Pinterest board of mine!

adding onto above, the “simple shapes” in question are typically a very very simply shaped skeleton. like this fellow!

(sorry the image is fucking massive idk why it does that) also good to note that typically, your elbows should meet your waist, and your hands should meet your mid-thigh, but don’t be afraid to play with that a bit 🙏

i was stubborn and didn’t do this for YEARS and years but flipping your canvas is actually so so helpful… sometimes i flip my canvas and suddenly i notice that my character is doing that fuckass micheal jackson pose and im like why are you literally italic

i have started to not think too hard about it when im drawing hands and my life has been bliss. idk how else to explain this one… might just be from drawing hands so many times. but yeah. i do Not do that whole finger segment thing anymore i just don’t have the brainpower to make it work personally

as for hair just remember how you want it to be shaped mostly. idk. i love drawing hair so it’s just muscle memory at this point for me 😭🙏

faces… i don’t know i just don’t use that many lines. enough to convey the expression you want, i suppose. but that could just be a stylistic thing!

SKULLS ARENT CIRCULAR… they’re more like ovals. this tip saved my life when it came to drawing side profiles

ALSO ALSO IF YOU WANTyour character to look more up or more down their ear should like. be above their actual face for looking down and below the face if they’re looking up. like this

all i did here was move her face (+bangs) down or up depending on which way his head was facing!!

in conclusion please remember im literally just some teen who likes to draw i haven’t even taken any professional classes so take this all with a grain of salt… i am seriously not lying when i say my process is fuck around and find out LOL but i hope this helps!!!

[toxic-ship-tournament]

ROUND 5 / FINALISTS

CEO x Arowana (@owo-whats-bliss) vs Lucille x Jo (@radioactive-dragonlover)

who makes up your ship?:

CEO (human) and Arowana (the weird fish thing)

why does your ship deserve to be considered the most toxic?:

They do extremely unethical experiments on people together under the guise of saving them, but Arowana is just using them to eat the people while telling CEO that that was a last resort. CEO is hopelessly devoted to them, both romantically and religiously, and uses everything he has financially and emotionally to support whatever they do (even to him). Arowana is initially only using him, but falls in love and becomes unhealthily obsessed, threatening to harm those who look at him. CEO is a human, Arowana is a god, keeping him alive no matter what happens to him. (Also, Arowana does have a human form, they're just not in it 80% of the time.)

ship tags/playlists/pinterest boards?:

None of those, but I think about them to the song "Hakidasu" by Mao Sasagawa

****

who makes up your ship?:

Lucille and Jo

why does your ship deserve to be considered the most toxic?:

Lucille is a rich woman who has nothing to do in her life, she's eternally bored and wishes for something new— something fresh to happen. Jo is a quiet woman with some repressed violent tendencies and who works minimum wage bug is struggling to make ends meets. One night, Jo decides to rob Lucille's mansion and kills her without meaning to in the process, escaping the scene anxiously thinking she's going to go to jail once the body is found. However, Lucille wakes up the next day, with the events of the murder burnt into her mind but her body spared of any wounds. Turns out getting killed is EXACTLY the spice in life she was waiting for! So she decided to track down and knock on her murder's door— not to rat her out, but to ask her to do it again. Jo wasn't really for murdering again, especially with how anxious she ended up getting in the aftermath, but begrudgingly accepts. And it seems that Lucille IS actually very fun to kill for her, too. Cue to Jo murdering Lucille on a Weekly basis, getting very Gay about it each time. Lucille get the thrill of death she wanted, and Jo gets an outlet for her violence. A relationship starting as purely transactional at first slowly turns into a murder romance. They're both kinda fucked up in isolation to one another but complete eachother awfully well. Like "you two are perfect for eachother but never pull anyone else into your bullshit" kinda deal. They keep eachother contained. You feel me.

ship tags/playlists/pinterest boards?:

Ship tag on my art blog ( nihonium-art ) : Undying love ( although fair warning for gore ) Playlist : https://spotify.link/TPbt2y12Syb

[invisibleraven]

Me furthering my willie&furby agenda by asking for It’s my emotional support Furby for Willie/anyone please and thank you

When Willie and Alex first started dating, Willie was a bit nervous to have Alex in his room. What if he made fun of the glow in the dark stars still stuck to the ceiling? What if he thought the fact that Lancelot stayed in the bed with him made him childish? What if he found all Willie’s weird art off putting and dumped him?

Alex of course, did none of those things. He thought the glow in the dark stars were wicked, even more so when he noticed that they were arranged in constellations and not just randomly strewn everyone. He praised Willie’s art, claiming he wanted the abstract sunset one when it was finished.

“It’s yours,” he promised.

Plus he loved Lancelot, hugging the plush dragon tight, wishing he had an awesome childhood stuffy, all he ever had was lame bears and his parents made him give those up once he got double digits.

“You got anything else huggable?” Alex asked. “Otherwise I might end up borrowing Lancelot here.”

“Only Wilbur,” Willie replied, pointing to the tuft of hair sticking up behind some pillows in his little nook.

Alex gleefully reached over and grabbed Wilbur out, then stared at it. “What the fuck is this?”

“That’s Wilbur,” Willie replied, as if that explained everything. “He’s my emotional support Furby.”

“He’s huge!” Alex exclaimed.

“Well I longified him,” Willie said with a shrug, but Alex still look confused. So Willie got to launch into an explanation of long Furbies, showing him the Pinterest board of ones he had saved. “Caleb gave me Wilbur when I was younger, but then his speaker broke, and we fixed him together. Made him long and freaky. Now he serves as emotional support when I need him.”

“That’s pretty cool actually,” Alex said, finally holding Wilbur closer to admire the details they had added to him, like the sparkly sequins now adorning the inside of his ears and the rainbow patterned hair for his tail. “Can you make me one?”

“How about we make one together?” Willie suggested. “Might be fun.”

“I’d like that,” Alex admitted.

In the end, they made Alex his own colourful little friend named Bowie, who became best friends with Wilbur, and they two of them lived a long and happy life together, proudly on display in Alex and Willie’s first house.

And when they adopted Isla, they made her one too.

[solar-halos]

i’ve skipped so many mood board mondays, so here are a ton of mood boards. they’re all Annie Cresta themed and how i think she’d dress/accessorize in a modern au. this one is gonna be lengthy tho i luv fashion

don’t keep the devil waiting, old friend: queer couture*

comments: this one was the hardest only bc i couldn’t find a lot pics of patchwork jeans + smudged (and ugly in an on-purpose-fuck-beauty-standards type of way) makeup and i feel like that is a fundamental part of annies style in this fic. also shes in hs and i feel like that is the peak of diy-ing things that are ugly but obv pinterest didn’t have much of that. but in the fic she loves red+black color combos and sanrio and also mitski so i included that here. also, had to include a heathers pic. and before anyone says that this doesn’t count as alt pls remember something: i don’t care

* (as in annie is queer in this fic, not that u have to be queer to wear this. just btw)

fond boy with a flower in his heart: lipstick lover*

comments: her style isn’t rlly described that much in the fic but i think it’s very much winx and barbiecore. lipstick lover* to the max. she is also the queen of sporty spice athleisure

*in a “pink panther” by Scene Queen (the musician) way, not a luver of lipstick way. although annie is both in this fic

a deep dive into the mind of annie cresta: man eater couture

credits, first and foremost!

i found the first pic (starting from the top left hand corner) on pinterest. this is the second pic dress pattern. third pic is also pinterest but it gives me johanna and annie vibes. this is the fourth pic (it’s still a tester pattern so i just linked her account!). this is the fifth pic. this is the sixth pic. i found the seventh pic on pinterest. this is the eighth pic. i found the ninth pic on pinterest. this is the tenth pic (can you tell i love madebymolly? lol)

comments: okay, so at first i wanted to focus more on materials like linen bc i think d4 would be more focused on practicality than glam, but as you can tell it’s mostly crochet pieces bc i’ve saved SO many pics that gave me boho beach vibes. but also some outfits (like the green dress!) are outfits i described in the actual fic and then found on instagram later like “wait….. this was literally something i had in my head and they made it into something real.” like how fucking cool is that imagine sewing something from ur own two hands (esp lace!). but also the cheetah (leopard?) print underwear is so annie cresta after she won the games bc i feel like she’d embellish everything she owns like the fashionista she is

miscellaneous: i-t g-i-r-l

ok when i was first pondering abt annie cresta’s style @turtlesandwhales678 put this into the universe and i haven’t been able to stop thinking abt it: vintage styled annie cresta! i know i didn’t do this concept justice bc most of the outfits are condensed to a select few decades but there was an era in my life where i would refuse to post anything on my instagram stories except vintage pictures/photoshoots, so here are some i had in my arsenal that i dug up:

credits!

first pic (top left corner) is from the nanny! love that show u should watch it. i know the second pic looks like an invasion of privacy but i swear it was for a photoshoot in 1969 for life magazine. i found the third pic on pinterest, it’s lisa bonet on “a different world” i believe. the fourth pic is from my instagram stories archive arsenal. same with the fifth pic. this is the sixth pic. seventh pic is from my stories archive. this is the eighth pic

comments: i kinda said everything i needed to at the beginning. the ninth pic is giving me odesta vibes

okay, that’s it! i know this was sooo long but i was scared of uploading it to ao3 cos the last time i did something like that it got taken down. but to be fair it was sorta my fault. anyway this was sooo fun and im in a very big procrastinating mood so i will literally make a mood board out of anything / any other styles. i was thinking abt doing a cottagecore one but i heard that style has racist undertones? idk i haven’t looked into it but i should. anyway bye hope these were pretty

[impostcrs]

introducing ;; lorelei wu !

chase sui wonders + she/her + cis woman – have you seen lorelei wu around long beach? the twenty four year old can be spotted at the skyline mall during their free time. word around the city is that they’re passionate and intuitive, yet, they can also be unreliable and judgemental, but you didn’t hear that from me. they’re currently a bartender at adam & steve’s lair and have been in the city for two years. when i think of them, i think of fighting for your life to free a necklace from a cluster of jewellery, the excitement of watching a scary movie for the first time, stolen lighters, and tarot cards at a house party to try and make friends. they’re typically seen walking the streets of long beach with her staffie mix rescue named angel. let’s hope the city treats them well!

basics.

full name: lorelei wu

nicknames: lori, lei

age: twenty four

pronouns: she/her

gender: cis woman

sexuality: bisexual (questioning whether she's bi or gay currently)

birthday: june 8th 1968

zodiac: gemini sun, scorpio moon, aries rising

hometown: decatur, illinois

time in long beach: 2 years

occupation: bartender at adam and steve's lair (recent hire)

relationship status: single

mbti type: ENFP

fc: chase sui wonders

pinterest board (some non-90s stuff in there my apologies)

more info.

eldest daughter born into a family of very dedicated evangelical christians, lorelei spent a good portion of her life trying to fit in where she did not. she wanted to be a good daughter, a good christian, and a good person – but in so many ways she never met the mark on any of those things. by the time she was a teenager, her younger brother was old enough to relieve her of some of the pressure. the fact that she started to mumble hymns and avoid youth group at every opportunity didn't go unnoticed, but it did go unmentioned.

the first real strike came when she was 16 and she started dating her first kinda serious boyfriend. he understood her in a way no one else had, and when she said she didn't want to go to church anymore he said he'd cover for her. always find them something to do so she would be busy. though it provided much relief, it upset her parents deeply. and suddenly that outsider feeling was growing stronger and stronger, ostracised by her parents and brother. left feeling alone, save for her boyfriend.

so it wasn't all that surprising when about a year later, lorelei and her boyfriend decided to run away. leaving their high school educations unfinished with the dream of freedom paired warmer weather. and for the next five years it was exactly that. making their way towards the west coast. but unfortunately, like most things, it wasn't all sunshine. relying on each other that much became tough for the young couple. while they understood each other in a way that made their lives easier, they also understood each other in a way that made them experts at twisting the knives in the other's stomach.

two years ago, her boyfriend caught her cheating and that's when things ended finally between them. she does deeply regret the choices she made, but in some ways she's glad that it ended and glad that it ended when it did. she thinks it was best for the both of them, even if it majorly fucking sucked.

it was after the break up she moved to long beach, desperate to find herself in this new place. she no longer had her family or the church defining her, nor her ex boyfriend. she was just her, and she was determined to find out who that was, and find people that would accept her for that. warts and all.

her first job in long beach was at the pet store (what inspired her to rescue her staffie mix angel &lt;3) but after coming into her own a little bit more, becoming more comfortable with people around her knowing things about her and specifically her sexuality which had been a point of shame most of her life – she decided to apply for a bartending job at adam and steve's lair. and that's basically where she's at now. she's tryna be a good person but more importantly she's tryna be herself !

the summary ;; grew up extremely religious, as a result ran away with her boyfriend at 17 - that relationship was not good. ended just before she moved to long beach, and now she's on a bit of journey to find herself first and then people who can love that self second. accepting her history but also accepting that it doesn't define her. it sucks but its good babes !

looking for.

chosen family ;; whether they feel the same way about lori is debatable but these people are staples now in lori's life. she considers them family, she would do anything for them. they help her and she hopes she helps them too. must be queers. (thinkin maybe 4?)

housemate ;; she works at a bar there's no way she's livin alone. imagining they met when lori took up their ad in the paper and she moved to long beach. upside: lori can cook on a budget, downside: her dog farts in its sleep. (ideally combo the housemate with a chosen family member and they became super close through living together etc, but open to others)

current coworkers ;; she needs a new work bestie pls (even better if its a bit begrudgingly) she cannot thrive without someone to annoy in the workplace

ex coworkers ;; previously worked at pet depot, definitely still wants the gossip yk – also see above she cannot thrive without someone to annoy in the workplace

shmokin pals ;; she smokes weed thats it thats the connections thanks xx

friendships ;; lori is pretty desperate to be friends with everyone she meets but maybe some of those attempts stuck ! she loves horror movies and crafts and music and havin a good old time. she'll read tarot cards for u (and by that i mean she'll tell u what the cards mean and u can interpret it lmao) and will lend u any of her jewellery if u want

hook ups ;; she might be emotionally unavailable for a relationship but she's still a bitch with needs. she is currently leaning more towards women/more femme presenting people but! open to everyone she's in an experimenting era and needs to feel desired or she'll go feral &lt;3

literally anything else lets get cookin my dears

[bewby]

my friend just gave me styling tips omfg he saved my fucking life but i still have to figure out where to get all these things especially cause my hips and like legs overall are bigger and it's hard to find skirts for me and all the people in the clothing inspo pinterest board i have WEAR SKIRTS KFJDHSHDJBDB

[theclosetedskeleton]

heyyy huiiii im agout to go to bed BUT ^_^ before i do go rest i just wanted to remind you that i love you soooosoososoossososo veryvery incredibly much that no amount of words could ever describe. you are my everything and i would be lost without you. you walked into my life and made everything better. youre the reason im able to get myself out of bed in the morning. you deserve everything ever. the stars, sun, moon, universe, galaxy, milky way, all the planets, and more. i would do anything and everything for you if it meant it would make you happy, even if it was just a little bit. everything you do makes me smile real big even if its just as little as saving something to your chnt board. i could literally listen to you ramble all day. even if i had no clue what you were rambling about, id love every second of it. i mean it when i say anything you makes genuinely stuns me in the best fucking way possible. your art is amazing, every bracelet you make is really cool, and your silly images you make always find a way to make me laugh. i have no idea how out of all the fish in the sea, i was able to find you, the most amazing of them all, but im sure as hell not complaining. im so insanely lucky to have you in my life, even when we were only just talking on pinterest. i will always be here for you, no matter what. it doesnt matter what time of day or where i am or what mood im in, if you need me ill be there. and dont you EVER think that youre a burden to me, because you arent and you never ever will be. i will never leave and thats a promise, and if the universe is against me and tries to take me away from you, ill always find a way back. i really hope we last forever. longer than forever, actually. i love and care about you more than any words that exist could describe. and even if the right words did exist, it still wouldnt be enough. youre genuinely the most wonderful person on this earth and i love just being around you. you make me so happy and giddy every single day, even on the days we dont talk. just the mere mention of your name, even if it isnt you, makes me jump for joy. you are so insanely important to me.

i love you ezra <3333/gen/qp

AWWWWHDJSBSNZ !!!!!!!!! <33333333

I LOVE YOUU !!!!! SO SO SO SOOOSOSOS VERRY VERY INCREDIBLY MUCH AS WELL !!!!!!ISTG I CNAT DESCRKBE.THAT ENOUGH !!!!!!!! YOU MAKE ME SOSOSSOSO SO HAPPY JUST BY. THE THOUGHT ABOUT YOU !!!!!!!! EVERYDAY I THINK ABOUT YOU, YOUR IN MY MIND ALL THE TIME <333333!!!!!!! YOY ARE LITERALLY THE LIGHT OF MY LIFE, MY EVERYTHING AND I WOULD BE PRACTICALLY LOST WITHOUT YOU !!!!!!! EVERYTHING YOU RELATED AND ANYHTING THAT REMINDS ME OF YOU MAKES ME SMILE !!! FROM THE PERSON IN MY CLASS NAMED RICKY TO CLONE HIGH, THEY ARE ALREADY YOU REFERENCES AND I SMILE BECAUSE THEY ALWAYS REMIND ME OF YOU !!!!!!!!!!YOU ARE THE MOST AMAZING WONDERFUL INCREDIBLE PERSON IVE EVER MET, I WOULDNT TRADE YOU NO MATTER WHAT THE OFFER IS !!!!!!! I WILL LITERALLT GO THROUGH THE MOTHERFUCKING UNIVERSE AND BACK IF IT MEANT I COULD JUST TALK TO YOU !!!!!!!!! I WOULD LITERALLY DO ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING ALL AT ONCE FOR YOU, ALL IF MEANT IT'D MAKE YOU SMILE !!!!!! I MEAN THAT !!!!!! I WILL ALWAYS AND ALWAYS BE THERE FOR YOU, NO MATTER WHAT IM DOING, IF YOU NEED ME I WILL BE THERE FOR YOU !!!!! I HOPE WE LAST FOREVER AND EVER AND SOME MORE !!!! AND WHATEVERS LONGER THAN THAT!!!!! YOU ARE MY EVERYTHING. I MEAN THAT. IM SO LUCKY TO HAVE YOU IN MY LIFE, I DONT KNOW HOW I WAS THIS LUCKY TO HAVE YOU IN MY LIFE, BUT I GUESS I WON THE LOTTERY ON 1/23/23 <333333

I WOULD GO ON AND ON BUT I FEEL LIKE MY HANDS ARE GONNA START HURTING FRKM TYPING

I LOVE YOU TOO SYDNEY !!!!! <3333333/GEN/QP

[kindheart525]

Tag yourself! I’m Slowly Dying, Discord Server Mod, and Poor Little Neigh Neigh

[Image Description: Chibi-styled headshots of the Thirdverse cast with the following descriptions under them (character names indicated in parentheses, not part of image):

Homophobic Dog (Celestial Blessing)

Would rather drink a smoothie than go to therapy

“You have depression? Just cheer up”

Gives you a dirty look if you start crying

Constantly judging everyone

Slowly Dying (Bismuth Sun)

Full time student with a job, doesn’t even need it to survive

Three majors and five minors, considering another

Attends every single community event

Somehow has time for online discourse too

Quiet Quitter (Evergreen Blaze)

Does the bare minimum at work

Works with someone for 5 years and never learns their name

His favorite color is “personal information”

Avoids his coworkers at the grocery store

Influencer (Moonray Chill)

Goes on annual trips to Disney, thinks this is normal

Believed in Santa until she was 14

“If you’re homeless, just buy a house!”

No concept of money whatsoever

Common L (Lantern Glow)

Looks at themselves crying in the mirror when they have a breakdown

Has daddy issues or mommy issues if not both

Finds comfort in their childhood interests well past that age

Can’t find a therapist so they have several diaries

iPad Kid (Strawberry Breeze)

Bites people like a rabid dog

Life goal is to scream louder than Krakatoa

Picks her nose and wipes it on the wall

First word was fuck

Better Than You (Earth Day)

Always dresses in style

“I won’t have my son doing makeup like that, his eyeliner is all wrong”

Can convince you that you need something you had no interest in

Joins every single conversation just to be the center of attention

Nepo Baby (Princess Cut)

How much could one banana be? 10 dollars?

Thinks Kim Kardashian is a self-made millionaire

Saves money by cutting out avocado toast and Netflix

Also dad owns a business

Chihuahua In An Itchy Sweater (Sunny Sweet Dreams)

“It’s me, hi, I’m the problem, it’s me”

Takes even the slightest teasing personally

Selective in showing affection including to herself

Thinks being school project partners is "too intimate"

Dont Mine At Night (Laffy Taffy)

Curses at you in the Call of Duty lobby

Has a meltdown when the game lags

Fall Out Boy blaring in headphones 24/7

No sleep, bad grades, but defeating the final boss was worth it

Shallow (Galatea Candyheart)

Everyone wants to be her friend

Because she has the cool 24 pack of crayons with the sharpener on the back

She has to check her schedule to plan playdates…in preschool

Calls people she just met her best friend

Oh Worm? (Tiger Lily)

Says I love you to the cashier at McDonalds

Holds the door open for people who didn’t ask

Offers snacks and band-aids to everyone including strangers

Cries harder than you do when you scrape your knee

Discord Server Mod (Daisy Wasp)

The only one with conflict resolution skills

Stays up till 3am to moderate the group discussion

“No venting in the general chat”

Calls herself the friend group babysitter

Poor Little Neigh Neigh (Fairyfly)

Puts all the pressure on himself because his parents won’t do it

Complains about the stress he’s under as if it isn’t self-imposed

Thinks it makes him a better person

“Shut up I’m not short I just hit 4’11”

International Harvester (Blackberry Maple)

Posts travel pics at 12pm on a Tuesday

Accepts every single friend request on Facebook

Knows every stranger’s life story

You only ever see him at Thanksgiving dinner

Living Pinterest Board (Orchard Sunrise)

Does school notes about horrible tragedies in cursive with a pink highlighter

Every outfit is coordinated, even the work clothes

Spends hours in the bathroom doing her makeup

Asks you for help but nitpicks every step of the way

Useless Little Fuck (Fireside Jam)

Quotes distracting vines while his family does dangerous yardwork

Tries to carry the groceries inside but spills the whole bag

Offers to carry one (1) thing and hands it back to mom when it gets too heavy

Parents have to re-do all the chores he did badly

End Description.]

[genderfluidgothwitch]

for the witch asks hehehe

12, 18, 23, 26, 46 , and 63

TY TY TY!!!

12. Do you believe in Karma or
Reincarnation?

I don't necessarily do the whole "karma" thing, because Karma I believe comes from a Hindu deity and I don't want to overstep, but I do believe good comes to good and even comes to evil. I'm the end, everyone gets what they deserve, even though it's not in the moment. But I definitely 100% believe in reincarnation (and I can and have had strange encounters and memories that would suggest I am a reincarnation, definitely feel like I've had past lives)

18. Do you have a book of shadows?
If so, how is it written and/or set up?

Sort of? I have two old leather bound sketchbooks I bought ages ago that I've been trying to fill up with the "pretty" stuff, like I really want to do my own art and sketches and really make them interactive because I want those to be treasured by my family, but I have a crap ton of stuff in my notes for a digital grimoire and I have so much crap saved to a Pinterest board grimoire that I high key need to organize lol

23. What is your preferred element?

I'm stuck between water and fire tbh. Because I have always loved the water, the ocean and rivers especially, but since my youth I have gotten over my fears of fire and reclaimed that a little bit. But I'm gonna lean more towards water tbh

26. What got you interested in witchcraft?

Oh imma be a depressing bitch. My ex partner of 14 years got me into it after I was struggling to retain my queer identity because I was getting told by the Christian Church that I could overcome it if I just prayed more and I wasn't about that anymore. So I stopped going to church, didn't really do any religion or spirituality for a while, and then my ex who grew up in a pagan household suggested it to me, and I immediately found peace in it. I love witchcraft more than anything else. Ex is since kicked out of my life so now things are great lol

46. Do you practice color magic?

I do!!!!! I freaking love color magic. I am first and foremost an Artist and Creator of Things and a Writer of Books so I am very big on the artistic side of witchcraft, especially color magic. I turn spells into bracelets and put color magic into that, I put color magic in my spell jars by writing my sigils on colored paper matching my intention, colored candles, just yes yes yes color magic

63. What is your tarot card of choice?

The Moon. I know it's fucking cliche as hell but it started because my friend in college was moving into a different apartment and asked me if I wanted her tapestry since she didn't have room for it (I didn't know it was a tarot card until long after). I hung it up in my room and didn't realize until that night it was glow in the dark. So it became my favorite thing and I've just always felt a connection to the moon so to me it's a no brainer even if it is cliche

TY AGAIN MACE

[commaclear]

Whoever said Wilbur being a huge wedding nerd after quackity brought it up

I’m hc Wilbur was occasionally thinking about it after quackity dropped him off at the airport and techno picked him up.

He told techno to stop at a jewelry store and stumbled out the car. Confused, techno followed. Inside Wilbur strolled and browsed at all the pretty rings. Until his eyes fell upon the prettiest ones he’s ever seen. One being a gold ring, with pretty topaz and sapphire stripes in the center, the other the same but with silver. Wilbur almost wanted to cry, it was like the universe was giving him a sign. He knew then and there these were the ones.

“You’re not seriously thinking of marriage are ya?” Techno replied looking at the rings

“W-well not right now! But it’s definitely a possibility. I do love him and… I wanna be with him, no matter what I’ll do anything for him.” Wilbur looked back at the rings smiling.

He trapped himself In his little daydream of waking up in the softest bed, to quackity getting ready to go to his law firm, asking him if his tie looked good with his suit. And Wilbur would say yes because cmon now his husband could pull anything off. And quackity would give him a kiss before heading off and telling wil to remember to wake up so he’s not late to his work. Quackity would do small things like heat up dinner or brush Wilburs hair when Wilburs engulfed with work. Maybe theyll get a cat or even a kid if quackity wanted one. No matter what, Wilbur will give him the life he deserves, anything he asks for.

Techno sighed, “well you’re not wrong about that. And I’ll support you no matter what.” Wilbur smiled back at him.

“Thanks tech,”

“Now let’s see how long you’re gonna be saving up for these.” Techno laughed

“Oh those?” The salesman interjected, “well those are gonna be-“

—

Wilbur and techno hadn’t said a word since the salesman opened his mouth. The two, jaw dropped and still parked in the parking lot.

“ fi-five thousand?! EACH!??” Wilbur shouted

“HOW CAN A PIECE OF METAL BE WORTH THAT MUCH?!??” techno replied

The two shit talked the jewelry store the car ride home. Once at technos place, wilbur opened up his laptop and got more work done. He decided then and there, he’s gonna be at the top of his class, graduate with the best grades, work super hard to get the best job and get crazy money so he can get the best rings and the best suits, and anything quackity asks for. And in his free time add one or two things to his Pinterest board (did you know they make suit dresses for weddings?? Well wilbur does now lol)

Plus the new she-ra season was out in a few days! Things were going all right for Wilbur!

———

Wilbur looked over the notes of the case, maybe there is something they’re not seeing. There’s no way that techno did it but whoever did has to be like- a ghost?? Wilbur sighed and leaned his head back onto the chair. That’s when he noticed quackity standing behind him. He showed Wilbur a rubber band he stretched out with his fingers.

“Bring your head up a little.”

“Okay…” Wilbur slowly rose his head

“Yeah that’s good, here this is gonna hurt for a small sec,” Quackity brushed Wilbur’s hair lightly, detangling a few small knots, “you’ve moved aside your hair like 40 times to look at the screen so I had to do this for my sanity.”

Wilbur laughed as quackity put a comfortable ponytail and stood a little further to get a good look of Wilbur

“You look pretty.” Wilbur blushed at the comment

“Shut up” he muttered

“I mean it!” Quackity kissed his forehead and retired to his side of the bed, “prettiest of them all” he giggled

Wilbur snorted and closed his laptop, joining his hus- oh. Fuck.

“Wil? What’s wrong?” Quackity held his hand as Wilbur came back, “oh um- sorry darling I just forgot to put my phone on it’s charger, and gods know hat technos gonna get himself into ring by himself.” Quackity laughed

“Okay just come back here I miss you”

“Pfft, I was right there Q”

“Mmmm too long ago I can’t remember “

Wilbur laughed and turned off the light, cuddling with Quackity as they both fell asleep.

Highly upsetting stuff, anon... the fluff that will never be

*gives you a dandelion, perfectly aged and ready to be blown on to make a wish*