#also rip our laptop

[courtjestermerlin]

A Dangerous Thing - AURORA

[togethersmiled]

"Y-you..."

Toru's eyes are brimming with tears that no-one can see. It's always been that way. Even if she lets them fall, nobody will notice... her parents told her to make herself loud, so that no-one could ever miss her - but sometimes, being invisible is more of a curse than a blessing.

And that's exactly how she feels right now. Because if she hadn't been invisible, then she surely wouldn't have overheard what she just did... and she wouldn't be screaming like she is, from the bottom of her heart-

"How could you!? You can't be Deku... he'd never say something like that!!"

@vsagis ( starter! )

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not having time to read my mutual's writing?

Met a mutual on here, bonded through fanfic, have been tight with them for a few years with pretty much no bumps in the relationship, just overall had a really good time hanging around them when I could. We both write a lot and share our writing, and occasionally we talk about that writing/workshop it in passing.

In the past few years I've gone through a ton of life changes. Most notably I went from a multi-person household to a single-person one, and I've been living alone in a prohibitively costly city for a while now working 40 hour weeks and barely scraping by. As soon as the transition started I spent the last of my free income on a shitty little laptop so I could still write, putting down words on my bus/train commutes in the morning and quite literally writing on my breaks at work because I feel insane when I can't create. I bring this up to really stress that I don't have the time for the hobby, I force myself to make the time and even then it never feels like enough.

The only thing I can really stand to do with my 3 hours of free time at night is hang out with my moots online. I'm an extrovert so being around people recharges me. If I don't have designated social time I get super depressed and can pretty much feel my soul withering away. I also feel like I should probably mention that I kinda have a slew of mental issues, personality disorders and PTSD and AuDHD and the works. Point being, shit is rough my dude, but I am a person who likes to work hard and face challenges head on and even though we strugglin, we doing it with a positive outlook.

But! I am an incredibly solution-oriented person and I have found what I personally believe to be a good balance. No one should have to live like this, but I do, and I have found a way to be happy. My writing and my social time is all load-bearing. It is not something I just choose to do on a whim, it's all planned and scheduled and I adhere to those routines very strictly because, I cannot stress this enough, I will go fucking bonkers if I don't.

I'm mutuals with a lot of writers obv, and I sadly don't have time to read their work anymore, unless I get some extra time on my days off or something gets cancelled or like, I end up taking a vacation. I carry a great amount of guilt for this, though, even though I logically know it's reasonable. I try to support them where I can, cheer them on when I see them writing and tell them how cool their ideas sound, hype them up even when I can't actually read & review.

One of the things I do is sometimes I leave a kudos on fic I haven't read. I'm not trying to be ingenuine, and if they asked me I'd tell them like 'Oh I didn't read it yet, just wanted to show support!' but to me it's kinda like ripping a paper tab off a poster so that other's feel inclined to do the same. Plus my pals get a little email and a hit of serotonin.

Except one of my acquaintances, the one I mentioned at the start here, saw that I left kudos on a couple pieces another mutual of mine wrote this year. They more or less blew up my DMs with a ton of accusatory (like, literally presented like a 'GOTCHA!') stuff about how I was selective in who's fic I read, more or less implying that I secretly held some sort of grudge or negative feeling toward them and was making the conscious decision not to read or interact with their writing because of. Something, I don't actually know what they were trying to say. They also told me they vented to their friends about this MULTIPLE times, but they never once approached me to let me know they were feeling paranoid or neglected, they literally just took the most bad faith reading of it possible and then presented that to me like it was something I intentionally did, while the whole time I was unaware.

I tried to explain to them the kudos thing, that I didn't do it to every story, just ones I caught/noticed in my busy schedule. And I laid all this out and asked, multiple times, what free time am I supposed to read with? They didn't answer, and doubled down, kept trying to show me 'proof' that I was shorting them and no one else. Once they started to realize how wrong they were they backed down, but they didn't really apologize, or admit they were wrong, and they tried to end our relationship and left every single server we were in together. Because of some other unrelated stuff going on in my life, I didn't really consider them to be a close friend, but they were someone I really held dear and would've walked through hell for if they'd asked.

I still feel like there is something I'm missing here, and that's why I wanted to ask if I'm TA. I'm a pretty good communicator but one of the things I told myself when talking down my disordered thoughts (guilt about this prior) was "no one in their right mind would use reading fanfic as a metric for friendship." Now that I've had that exact thing happen, I'm starting to think maybe those thoughts weren't so disordered. Maybe this IS a big deal, and I should think about it more, but I don't even know what the solution to that would be. I just. Don't have time to read something lovingly crafted and appreciate it for what it is. All the hours in my week are used up, I'd have to lose sleep for this and with my mental health the way it is that is not an option.

Feel free to be a brutal, my skin is thick. Thanks!

What are these acronyms?

[saetoru]

#TOP OF THE CLASS! — GETO SUGURU.

「 SYNOPSIS 」 ⋮ geto + virgin killing - your TA is nice, and more importantly, handsome. accidentally sending him nudes makes you realise he's also inexperienced

♱ kinktober ⋮ find the masterlist here !!

♱ pairing ⋮ college TA! geto suguru x student! reader

♱ length ⋮ 5.5k words (she tried okay. she did)

♱ contents ⋮ nsfw and 18+ content, fem! reader, college! au, TA! geto, student! reader, med! student shoko, forging of legal documents (shoko forges you a doctor’s note lol), mentions of drinking + being under the influence, unprofessional relationships, explicit photography (taking + accidentally sending nudes), virgin! + inexperienced! geto, semi-public sex (in a campus office), teasing, humiliation, mentions of male masturbation, handjobs, blowjobs, nipple play, fingering, riding, praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, overstimulation

♱ notes ⋮ here is the first kinktober post i hope you all enjoy and HAPPY OCTOBER ITS MY FAV SEASON

the first rule of being a college student is having good time management. that should’ve been something you remembered before saving this paper for the last minute—because now you’re beginning to regret overestimating your ability to finish all the research and the required components and hit the word count. and then you have to cite your sources—which is a pain, and the clock isn’t slowing even a little as it ticks away closer and closer to the deadline. 

you’re doomed, finished for the semester before you could’ve even fully begun. you’re counting your moments to failure for a class you absolutely need to graduate. this paper is thirty percent of your grade—how could you have been so careless as to leave it so last minute?

“it’s useless,” you moan woefully into your phone, making shoko snort as you hear her continue to type away on her keyboard. it hits you that if shoko of all people is further along her paper than you—the same shoko that cheats on everything—then you’ve really let yourself go. “i’m never going to finish this on time,” you mutter. 

“i told you to get started earlier,” she says matter of factly, almost with enough i told you so energy in her voice that you’re two seconds from storming over to her apartment and smashing her laptop to bits. but shoko has a point—even if you refuse to acknowledge it since…well, it’s shoko, after all. 

“i’m not on call with you to lecture me,” you grumble, “i’m on call with you to help me find a solution. you think if i offer the TA a blow job, he’ll give me an A?”

shoko snorts, pausing her typing as if she’s actually contemplating the idea. “maybe, honestly. you know he’s our age, and he’s like years ahead of us? probably too busy with school to get any bitches,” she laughs, making you roll your eyes as a smile tugs at your lips no matter how hard you try to fight it. 

“you know what, you might be right,” you chuckle. you almost feel bad for joking at his expense—your TA is nice, he’s young and kind and understanding, he takes time to slowly go over things when people have questions, he answers emails politely and quickly no matter how stupid the reason, he and has sensible rules that aren’t too strict. and, if you’re being honest, he’s rather handsome. “i wouldn’t mind giving him a blow job though,” you hum, “he’s cute.”

“gross,” shoko gags, “geto suguru is not cute.”

“he is too,” you argue, furrowing your brows as you huff, “he’s probably one of the few men i’ve seen who make a man bun work. and i know he’s ripped under that sweater, he has to be. i saw him leave the gym the other day, and his arms were huge.”

“he’s probably just trying to get bitches,” shoko snorts, “i bet he’s a virgin.”

“shut up,” you laugh, and for a moment, your mind wanders to your stupidly handsome TA. 

you shouldn’t be thinking about him this way—fantasizing about anyone who grades your papers is a line you shouldn't really cross, but you can’t help it. your thoughts turn into what hearing his smooth, deep voice would be like if he moaned into your ear, or what his bangs would look like stuck to his sweaty forehead, or what his abs would look like clenching as he cums, or how breathless he’d sound as he whispers your name—

“wait, i just had an idea,” shoko interrupts your thinking with a gasp, making you shake out of your (very dirty) thoughts as you blink.

you clear your throat, trying your best not to sound flustered as you speak. “i’m scared to ask what the idea is—you’re not really known for having good ones,” you say warily. you can practically see her eyes roll without her being there with you—you’ve been friends with shoko long enough to know her like the back of your hand. and if you know her like you think you do, her idea is about to cause you a lot of stress.

“well, looks like i’m never trying to help you again,” she scoffs, “i could’ve written you a doctor’s note with a few of the copies i managed to snatch—but since you don’t want my help—”

“no, wait! you’re a genius,” you gasp happily, grinning wide as shoko huffs through the phone and mutters something faintly similar to ungrateful under her breath, “i could kiss you on the lips right now.”

“no thank you. you suck,” she hisses. you only giggle, relief flooding through your bones that maybe your grade is saved—and all thanks to having a friend who works in a doctor’s office. you silently send the universe your gratitude for having your best friend pursue a career in the medical field—the perks prove to be quite beneficial, it seems. 

“just send me a picture of it and make it seem like i’m too sick to work on the paper, and i’ll tell him i won’t finish in time. a one day extension should be enough.”

“where would you be without me,” she grumbles quietly, “i’ll send it to you in a second. now please let me finish my paper in peace.”

“okay. love you, you’re the best.”

“i hate you.” the line clicks and you giggle, happily celebrating that you most likely have a saved grade and a free night to yourself now that shoko has so kindly offered you a solution. and of course, you’ll take this as a learning curve and appropriately plan to give yourself enough time for the next paper.

it’s not long before your phone dings and shoko’s contact pops up on your screen with, sure enough, a doctor’s note with today’s date and reason for the visit. shoko has even taken the liberty to make you seem contagious—just so you can skip class tomorrow for good measure. beaming, you text a quick thanks bestie <3 in response—too happy to even care that she sends you an emoji flipping you off. 

and it doesn’t take you long to craft the email either, making sure to properly address him with a greeting, adding apologies for the inconvenience—and as the icing on the cake, a promise that it won’t ever happen again in the future. you click the photo to upload the doctor’s note, and without even a second thought, you click send. 

and then within the split second that the email sends, and you realize just which photo you’ve accidentally clicked, your life flashes before your eyes. 

“no,” you mumble, “no no no,” you chant as you quickly open the email you’ve sent, eyes wide and throat dry. 

the photo is not the picture of the doctor’s note shoko sent—instead, it’s the picture right under it in your camera roll. the picture that’s not very suitable for sending your TA. the picture of your tits, just barely covering your nipples with your arm. the picture you took through giggles while changing after getting a little tipsy the night before (you’d felt just a tad bit sexy in your makeup.)

you sit in silent shock as you register that you just sent your TA your nudes—and just to make matters worse, he responds almost instantly, making your heart drop as you stare at his emailed reply with a shaky hand holding up your phone. 

please meet me in my office tomorrow before class so we can discuss the above email. 

suddenly, your worries are a lot more complicated than simply failing a class.

———————————————

you barely slept the night before, if at all, to be completely honest with yourself. the worst-case scenario runs through your head the entire time you toss and turn in bed. geto is probably going to report this, and then you’ll get expelled, and then you’ll never make it with a successful career, and then you’ll never be able to show your face to anyone you know again. 

your feet are as heavy as lead as they drag along the walk to his room, and you contemplate turning back and never showing up to his office, maybe simply even just refusing to ever return to campus at all. maybe you can move countries and start over somewhere else—maybe you can change your name and make a new life for yourself. 

but instead, you take a deep breath and knock on the door, waiting until you hear a soft come in before you enter. geto is seated at the desk, typing away at his laptop before meeting your eyes as you walk in.

“uh…hi,” you start, standing awkwardly by the door.

“hello,” he says, eyeing you slightly before looking back at his screen. if he has any ill feelings about last night, he does a good job of hiding it—you can’t read a single emotion on his face. somehow, that makes things worse. “have a seat,” he gestures at the chair across from him on the other side of the desk, waiting for you to seat yourself nervously in front of him. 

you sit down, watching as he opens his mouth to start—but you begin speaking before he can. “look, i know that email was really inappropriate, and i’m really sorry—it was an accident, i swear! i meant to click on the picture above it, and i didn’t realize—”

“i understand,” he cuts you off as he holds a hand up, offering you a kind smile that makes you tilt your head in confusion, “it’s fine.” fine. fine? he’s…just fine with it? he’s just willing to let you off the hook? “i’m not much older than you,” he chuckles, “i’m not foreign to these things. i’m sure you’re active in…that aspect of your life.”

oh god—why you? why of all people did this have to be you? why is the world so hellbent on making your life miserable in every aspect?

you eye the coiled wires of the phone on his desk, and you contemplate strangling yourself with them before he can say something anymore embarrassing. but, you have to admit—this is far better than being told you’ve been reported to the dean for misconduct.

“i’m really sorry if it made you uncomfortable,” you fiddle with your fingers as you avoid his gaze, “i really did mean to send you a doctor’s note. i just didn’t realize i hit the picture under it.”

“like i said, it’s okay,” he reassures. calm. he’s almost too calm about this. too okay with it. almost like…like he didn’t mind at all in the first place.“but i wanted to make sure you’re aware of how fragile photos like that are.”

“huh?” you raise a brow. now, this is not where you expected the conversation to steer. you expected a lecture on how sending an educator your explicit photos is highly unprofessional, that it’s unacceptable and suggests other things—things that are completely against the rules and completely out of question to even consider. 

“i mean, photos like those getting into the wrong hands can lead to really bad predicaments,” geto continues, clearing his throat as he closes his laptop and meets your gaze. he looks you dead in the eye as he speaks his next words, “and i wouldn’t want sensitive content of you circulating around campus.”

“right,” you nod slowly, “it’s not like i send them around, or anything. i was just a bit drunk that night, and i was in my room bored, and my makeup was cute so i was feeling good about myself…and…and…yeah…” you trail off. 

why are you even explaining this to him in such detail? you silently curse yourself in your head, beating yourself up for running your mouth so much. 

“oh, that’s good to know,” he nods, “i’m glad to hear that. no one else has possession of these photos?”

you eye him slowly, “nope,” you confirm. “just you—by accident, of course.”

you’re not sure if you imagine it, or if the situation as a whole is making you overinterpret everything that’s happening—but you’re almost certain you hear his breath hitch a little. he’s no longer looking at you, no longer burning you under his gaze like he was just a minute ago.

“right, by accident,” he repeats. it’s slow, like he’s reminding himself, like he has to speak slowly to process the information. “well, i hope this serves as a lesson for being more careful next time. you don’t want young men to save such pictures of yourself for ulterior motives.”

geto suguru, your teacher’s assistant for intro to literature 1301, seems to be rather invested in your well-being—more than a TA really should be. if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he’s almost disappointed that you sent him a significantly revealing photo of yourself by accident instead of intentionally. and, if you squint just a little, it almost seems like he doesn’t want anyone else to have the pictures. not because he’s concerned for you—but rather, because he wants to be the only one who’s seen them. 

your thoughts from last night come flooding back, how he’s probably well built under his shirt, how shoko thinks he’s still a virgin, and especially how he probably looks and sounds when he’s overwhelmed with pleasure. and geto suguru might think he has you cornered like a cat would a mouse, but what he doesn’t know is that you’ve been the serpent the whole time, fangs ready to sink into him and devour him whole. 

“you know, you seem like you speak from experience,” you can’t help but grin slightly. 

now, logically speaking, this is wrong—this is pushing the kindness he so graciously showed you. by now, you should be fighting back tears as you figure out a way to break the news to everyone you know that you’ve had to receive an expulsion for sending your TA nudes. by now, your life should’ve been at an all time low, so you really shouldn’t be testing your luck. 

but geto has practically seen your tits, so you’re not really sure there’s any point in acting like an angel around him—and he’s so incredibly hot in that button up shirt of his, sleeves rolled halfway up his arm. plus, the thought of him being your inexperienced TA, one who lets you strip him of his innocence as you slowly taint his purity—it excites you a little more than it really should.

he clears his throat, not meeting your eyes. this time, yours bore into him through a searing gaze that almost makes him shift uncomfortably. 

“well, like i said, i am around your age, so i know how men’s minds work when it comes to these things—”

“so then tell me,” you raise a brow, smirking slightly as his jaw clenches, “is it because your mind works the same way?”

“now—”

“did you save my tit pics to your phone?” you ask bluntly. he hides the choked cough through a clearing of his throat—bingo, you think. almost instantly, the room shifts to him being nervous under your gaze as you eye him smugly. 

something about sweet, kind, successful geto suguru, young and ambitious with a perfect gpa and a flawless resume, being hot and bothered by your breasts makes you swell with pride—and you think maybe…maybe giving him a blow job might not be such an outlandish thought after all. 

maybe he wants it to be a reality just as badly as you do. 

“w-what are you implying—”

“did they turn you on?” you interrupt, watching as his cheeks heat up a slight flush of pink, “did you wish i’d moved my arm down so you could get the full view?” he clears his throat, opening his mouth to speak, but you don’t give him the chance. “was that the first nude you’ve ever been sent?”

“i think that’s enough,” he says sternly, but his voice is slightly higher in pitch—which tells you everything you need to know. and you’re enthused. “keep in mind, i could have every intention to notify the dean of these—”

“but suguru,” you pout, rolling his first name off your tongue so sweetly, he can’t help but be hungry for another taste of something so decadent, “if you tattle on me, you’ll never get a chance to actually see my nipples this time,” you giggle, “isn’t that what you want?”

“i—”

“i wonder,” you grin wickedly, “did you act like every other guy our age and jack off to a random girl’s tits?” 

you must hit close to home because he lets out a shaky exhale, jaw tight and fists clenched as his knuckles turn pale. he swallows thickly before finally meeting your eyes, face a deep shade of crimson as you grin at him widely. 

“i…i’m not…immune to things of that nature,” he finally admits, voice strained as your grin widens. almost instantly, you’re standing up, locking the door behind you and making your way over to his side of the desk without hesitation. the cards have been dealt in your hand, all that’s left is to play them—and you’re pleased to say that the game is heavily leaning in your favor. 

“wanna show me?” you ask with a sultry voice, “wanna show me how you fucked your fist last night? i’ll even let you see my nipples this time around,” you murmur as you seat yourself on his lap. 

geto scoots his chair back and makes room for you, breathing heavily as his pants strain with the tent already forming in them. his breath hitches when your hand rubs over his erection—and he curses himself for being so pathetic as to let a few words from you let him get riled up like this. but you’re so pretty—always have been. 

you sit in class and chew on the top of your pen, making it hard to avert his attention from your mouth. you tilt your head and furrow your brows so cutely when you’re confused, making it hard for him to concentrate on what he’s teaching. you laugh so sweetly out of glee when you do something correctly, and your voice shoots right through his heart—and sometimes, as ashamed as he is to admit it, straight to his dick too. 

and he’s well aware of how bad of an idea this is, but this is everything he’s ever dreamt about—right here under the palm of his hands. literally. so he grips your hips tightly, bringing you to rub over him through your own pants. the friction makes him throw his head back, moaning quietly as your clothed cunt drags along his length. you chuckle, palms gliding over his chest through his shirt and feeling the firm muscle under your hands. 

“does that feel good?” you ask, making him stifle a whimper as you glide over his nipples through his shirt.

your hands move to unzip his pants—and the best part? he lets you. he sits back and lets you free his aching cock from its confinements, he lets you wrap your fingers around his thick girth and squeeze gently, and he lets you pull the soft, low moans you’ve fantasized of hearing from his lips as you smear his pre cum along his shaft and stroke him slowly. 

“f-fuck,” he grunts, hips bucking into your hand, lips tugging between his teeth as he pants harshly with every squeeze at the base of his cock. and because you really can’t help it, you lean down to kiss along his jaw, making your way to his neck and nibbling at his skin. he groans, whispering your name—it makes your thighs squeeze together as a dull ache forms between your own legs. “feels…feels so good,” he mumbles breathlessly, “so different when you do it.”

you giggle, watching him carefully so as not to miss a single reaction. “oh yeah? you know, shoko said you were probably a virgin,” you purr against his ear, making his hands clutch onto your hips tighter, “you seem to be proving that theory right.”

“d-don’t stop,” he pleads when your hand slows, making his hips thrust sloppily into your fist and try to keep your earlier pace going. but you’re mean—just a tad bit cruel, and you wanna see him ooze with shame. so you squeeze on his cock, stilling the movement and making him rasp as he buries his head into your neck with a whine. 

“are you a virgin, suguru?” you hum, stroking his hair soothingly—but it contradicts the teasing tone of your voice. 

his face burns in your neck, “yes,” he mumbles quietly, like the admission stings. 

“how cute,” you pout, “so no one’s ever sucked your dick before?” he shakes his head slowly into the crook of your neck—but it’s not nearly as satisfying when he’s hiding, so you pull his face away despite his initial protesting. “i want to hear it,” you say firmly. 

“fuck—no,” he groans, his face an even deeper shade of red than you thought was possible, “no, no one has ever…you know…”

“sucked your dick?” you grin.

“stop,” he whines. you chuckle quietly before climbing off his lap and sinking down to your knees before him, looking up at his shocked face with a smirk. 

“wanna know something?” you hum, “i’ve thought about sucking your dick.” 

“thinking about you TA like that?” he huffs a chuckle—but whatever semblance of composure he had, he loses as soon as you press a gentle kiss to the tip of his flushed cock, reddened and swollen at the head as beads of pre cum leak from the slit. 

“just like you jack off to your student,” you shoot back, “you want it, suguru? do you want me to make you feel good?”

“god—yes,” he hisses, “get on with it,” he says as he’s throwing you a glare when you snicker up at him from in between his legs. you run your tongue along the tip, humming as you take in the taste of him before wrapping your lips around him and taking him down your throat. 

the reaction is instant—geto slumps back against his chair, gasping as you swallow around him, bobbing your head up and down his length. you loosen your jaw, fucking him with your mouth, letting your tongue drag along the thick vein running across the underside of his cock. his hand falls to the top of your head while the other grips the armrest of his chair, skin turning white over his knuckles as he tightens his hold with each time the warmth of your mouth swallows around him. 

“oh—g-god, shit that’s it,” he grunts, hips bucking into your throat as you pick up your pace. “feels fuckin’ amazing—oh, fuck.”

your hand wraps around the base of his member, pumping what won’t fit in your mouth so no part of him is left neglected. and when your other hand reaches for his balls, rolling the sensitive sacs in your hand and squeezing gently, he rewards you with a whine, voice lilting off to a high pitched moan as his hips thrust up instinctively. your nose brushes against his pelvis, and with a few more swallows, you feel him twitch in your mouth. 

“fuck, fuck, ‘m c-close,” he pants, chest falling and rising erratically. you look up, watching through teary eyes as spit and pre cum dribble down your chin, taking in the pretty sight of his face flushed and his skin damp, bangs clinging to his forehead just like you imagined them to. “don’t stop—’m gonna cum…gonna…gonna make me cum,” he rasps. 

you moan around him, and the vibrations send him over the edge, hips raising as he groans loudly. hot, thick ropes of his cum paint your mouth, seeping past your lips and dripping down your chin as you try your best to swallow what you can. geto sounds better than you expected—voice deep and raspy, but still the same smoothness it always holds even through the cracks as he brokenly calls your name. 

the sound of his voice as he moans your name makes your walls clench around nothing and your clit throb. you let him fuck himself into your mouth through his high, riding out the last waves of his orgasm as pleasure burns through every nerve and every inch of him. when he finally slumps back into his chair, breathing harshly, you pull off of his cock, wiping the mess from your chin on your sleeve. and before you can open your mouth to tease him some more, you’re pulled back onto his lap, his mouth on yours, kissing you deep. 

“this’ll have to be a secret,” he mumbles, “for both of us.” 

for someone who’s never done anything like this before, geto rids you of your clothes almost expertly, lifting your shirt over your arms and sliding your pants off in an instant. he groans when his fingers trace over your clit—which you’re happy to know he can find—and feels the wetness of your slick drooling over the fabric. 

“c’mon, suguru,” you hum, voice edging on a little impatient, “go ahead and touch a pussy for the first time.”

he huffs, yanking the fabric to the side before sinking his ring and middle fingers into you, knuckle deep as this thumb runs circles along your clit. you whine, grinding your hips down on his hand, impatiently waiting for him to move. 

“for someone who’s experienced,” he grins, “you’re awfully impatient.” 

you open your mouth to respond, but as soon as you try to retort, his fingers thrust into you, hitting the sensitive spot of your walls with ease and making you cut yourself off with a moan. he scissors his fingers, stretching you open as your head falls to his shoulder with soft whimpers, feeling him curl his digits deep into you. you whine as your clit hits over his palm, feeling the slow build up of the coil in your belly reach the snapping point.

“keep going,” you encourage, “‘m close, k-keep going—fuck, suguru!” 

“god, you’re so pretty,” he breathes, watching as your head tips back and your mouth parts with a silent sob, watching as you break—all because of him. your walls spasm around his fingers as they bully into you and ride you through your orgasm, and your lips are slightly swollen from biting on them, eyes crinkled as you screw them shut, skin damp and glistening as sweat coats your forehead. 

perfect—you look perfect, and suguru has fantasized about this image in his head for so long, he can hardly believe it’s a reality before him. 

your hands find his long hair, tugging and twisting at the strands that slip between your fingers as the last few waves of your high crash over you. 

the rest is a blur—somewhere through rough and sloppy kisses, through rolled hips and soft groans as you grind against each other, geto has managed to unclasp your bra, letting your tits bounce freely. his hands immediately cup around them, squeezing gently before his lips pull away and his eyes fall to your chest. 

“fuck, they look better in person,” he grunts, rolling his thumbs over your pebbled nipples before pinching them lightly and rolling them between his fingers. you squeal, and your cunt is dripping—smearing your slick along his bare thigh as he teases over the sensitive skin. “feels good?” he mumbles.

“so good—don’t stop,” you moan, making his breath hitch in his throat. grinning, you open your eyes, hazy with lust, meeting his own unfocused gaze, “doing so well, suguru. making me feel so good.”

geto likes praise. you can tell that much alone from his hefty list of accomplishments on his resume. he’s beaming with pride the first day your professor introduces him in class while explaining how capable he is at his young age. he does a good job of staying humble, but you never fail to notice the twinge of excitement in his eyes when he’s praised for his impressive work ethic. 

there’s no exception now either—his eyes search yours for every hint he can find that he’s doing a good job, that he’s doing well and giving you exactly what you want. you swear his cock twitches when you say the word good—and he seems to notice it too because there’s a shaky breath against your neck as he groans. 

“fuck,” he breathes, hands falling to your hips and gripping tightly, desperately, when your hand grabs his throbbing cock, still hard and leaking pre cum from the reddened tip. “want to feel you,” he groans, “please.”

it’s all it takes for you to sink down on him, forehead pressing to his as you both moan against each other’s mouths. he’s big—long and thick, curved at an angle that makes him sink against your sweet spot almost perfectly, almost like he was made for you. it’s a shame he’s your TA, a small part of you almost feels a twinge of disappointment he can’t fully be yours. 

“fuck, suguru,” you gasp, “so big, feels so good.”

he whines, helping lift your hips up and guide you down on his cock, your hips rolling against his, the sound of your moans and the slapping of skin filling up the small office. you’re sure anyone passing by could hear and figure out what’s going on—but it only thrills you more, making you slam down on him faster. 

“so tight,” he grunts, “g-god, so fucking tight, i can’t—” 

his hands are everywhere, they dig into your hips, glide up to cup your tits, and find the back of your neck to pull you close and meet your lips. he’s panting, sweat making strands of hair cling to his forehead as his skin flushes a deep shade of crimson. his hips buck up into you, meeting you halfway with desperate thrusts, trying to feel you deeper. 

your head is spinning—not just from the way his thick girth splits you open, or from the way his tip slams against your spot so perfectly, but from the way his touch seems to light your skin up with every drag of his fingertips. and then he brings one hand down between your bodies, rubbing his thumb against your clit in harsh circles. 

“are you gonna cum, suguru? cause i am,” you moan, “wanna be good and cum with me? fill me up nice and full?”

“sh-shit,” he lets out a shaky breath. he does want to fill you up—wants to cum deep into you so you’re dripping as you walk out of his office. so that when you sit in class and stare at him as he teaches class, you can’t help but think of the way he was buried to the hilt inside you just hours ago. “yeah…yeah, ‘m gonna cum. gonna fill you up, baby,” he groans, “stuff you full of my cum. want it?”

“wan’ it so bad, suguru,” you whine, “look so pretty when you cum, wanna see it again.” 

and with a few more rolls of your hips, the squelching sounds of his cock slipping in and out of you all but drowned out but your pants, you fall off the edge—geto not far behind. you can feel his cock twitch as he shoots rope after rope of his thick cum into you, angling his hips up to fuck it deep into your pussy. it’s a mess, your slick mixed with his seed dripping along your thighs and coating your skin, but you can’t find it in you to care. and you also can’t find it in you to care that you’ll have to leave after this and see him again as you sit through his class. and you certainly don’t have it in you to care that you could both get in serious trouble if anyone realized this was happening.

instead, you cup his cheeks with a gentleness that makes his breath hitch in his throat with a strangled whine, and you kiss him, hard and deep. 

“f-fuck, fuck—ngh, shit,” he gasps, against your mouth in labored pants. it’s never felt like this—cumming into his fist is one thing, but cumming into your tight walls, feeling them squeeze around him in sync with his high is something he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget. he thinks you’ve ruined touching himself for him, thinks he’ll never be able to go back to being fine with just his hand to keep him company when he’s aching between his legs.

after this, geto isn’t sure how he’s supposed to just forget this happened—or about you. his hands don’t stop guiding you onto his cock, hips not ceasing to fuck up into you until you’re both whimpering from sensitivity.

it’s too much—but somehow, it’ll never be enough.

you slump over him when he finally slows down to a stop, bodies a sweaty heap against each other on his chair as his arms wrap around you and his lips find your damp forehead for a soft kiss. you turn your head, pressing a kiss to his jaw in return.

“so,” you wriggle your brows, “can this count as extra credit?” you ask cheekily, feeling his chest rumble with a low chuckle as he pulls you tighter against his chest.

“sure. i’ll even give you enough extra credit opportunities to be top of the class,” he grins.

© hanmas do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend on platforms outside tumblr such as tik tok

[darlingofvalyria]

❝I am not a Valyrian Sex God.❞

part 03 | pucker up, buttercup

chapter summary:

[ The line of friendship dances in uncertain waters when you and Aemond play the fake dating game a little too well. Helaena reveals much more than meets the eye to Aegon, and vice versa. Oh, and Alys. Hi Alys! ]

[ 5,399 ] [ series masterlist ] | best friend's brother!aemond targaryen x f!reader, ft. cregan stark x f!reader & aemond targaryen x alys rivers,

contains— mostly fluff, a wee bit angsty, a little smutty - profanity, i swear a lot sorry too shhshs - no use of y/n - no gods, no kings, no betas.

a/n— thank you so much for the love this little fic is getting so far!! it truly warms my heart that you people enjoy my twisty, crackpot humour and my version of a modern au for these characters!! as much as i am grateful for george for making these characters and these stories, i have to say what propelled me to write is the beautiful community i found. truly, from the bottom of my heart. ❥ fandom is built on community. i would not have had the courage to start writing fanfiction again if not for ya'll. so thank you so much. for the consumers and the creators. you, us, are the beating heart of fandom. please take care of each other. + comment, reblog & like at will, mwa ♡

"Please tell me I haven't inhaled so much drugs in my system that I am hallucinating our— and I say this with a lot love, okay you know what? No. Our Nasty Little Bitch of A Grudge Holder we call, lovingly, a brother, is not dating the hottest friend you have? Hel? The hottest friend you told me if I ever came anywhere near, you'd rip me a new asshole? How is Aemond's asshole still intact?? Or does our brother just have a gaping fun-house slide down there? Hello? Hellooo, pay attention to meee. This is so rude, why didn't I call Daeron?"

"Because Daeron knows nothing and I know everything?" Hel snorts, finishing up re-naming Aemond's contact from CURRENT DUMB BRO to NASTY LITTLE BITCH OF A GRUDGE HOLDER, before turning to Aegon on her laptop.

Like she predicted, Aegon is already pouting, leaning back on what Helaena remembers is their grandfather's rum-coloured leather office chair. In his office. In Oldtown.

After a quick stint in Ibiza, it seems Helaena's brother had found himself back in the country, and worse— back in their grandfather's office. Without him in it.

"Grandpa's going to kill you." Helaena snorts. "How'd you even get inside his house?"

"This is not the first time I have been faced with a locked door, baby sister."

"You broke a window didn't you?"

"I really, really had to piss."

She rolls her eyes. Hard. "You are a boy. You can literally just pee anywhere."

Aegon flutters a gasp and a hand over his chest. "Excuse me? I may have a penis, but that does not mean I have to be uncouth. For shame, Helaena. Also disgusting. But that's not why I called." He steeples his fingers as he leans forward, pressing his elbows against the nice mahogany desk. "What the fuck is happening over there? I'll be there by tomorrow and I'd like to know what the fuck is happening before I start—" he wiggles his eyebrows salaciously, " — shaking things up."

A dark look crosses Helaena's usually amiable pretty face that has Aegon leaning back. "If you do anything— and I mean anything — to ruin what I have going on, Mother may help you for I certainly won't. The Stranger will look like an old friend, Egg, don't you fucking dare."

"What the fuck," Aegon exhales, wide-eyed and horrified. "Have you been watching M. Night Shyamalan movies again?"

"No," she lies. "I'm doing this for my OTP."

 "Oh my god, you're the one who roped them together?" Aegon strangles a sigh. "Lae-lae, we've talked about this. No matter how much you think they're cute, Aemond—"

"— Aemond and Alys broke up."

"Then they'll be together again before the weekend's out." Aegon rolls his eyes. "It's Aemond."

"Not like this." Hel shakes her head. "I got her to agree, Egg. And they're like... Gods, the pictures don't do them justice. They're magnetic. They make plans at the apartment, Aemond is there all the time— my OTP is happening."

"You are playing god between two people you care about."

"What else am I supposed to do?! They're obviously so hot for each other, and now that Alys is out of the picture, and she's there, right in front of him, Egg, you should see how it is between them. The energy. It's crackling. They have inside jokes, they're so comfortable with each other, and I will have the most beautiful nephew and niece—"

"—Helaena Targaryen," Aegon admonishes with finality. Hel quiets. Often times, the siblings forget Aegon is quintessentially the oldest sibling. They had never been close to their father's actual firstborn— the age gap is wide and there's just... too much complicated family fissures in between that it feels awkward, even when they're relationship is okay, to interact or consider Rhaenyra anything past a cousin you see every other holiday because you have to, much less now that their father's dead — so Aegon is their big brother.

And though they see it in bits, in flung comet pieces that you see preciously once every few hundred years— the vibe of big brother grasps the edges and reminds the younger siblings.

Sure, he's a dick. Sure, he's a whore. Sure, he's their mother's least and most favourite headache— but Aegon is their big brother.

"You cannot play puppeteer like this. This can blow up in their faces. And they care for each other. Their friends. If this blows up in their faces, it is going to hurt."

"I know that," Helaena says quietly, pout pinched but face mostly cleared. "You don't think I don't know?"

"I think you've already outweighed your chances and your choosing a possibility."

Helaena looks truly scolded at that point, and it juts a guilt down Aegon's stomach. But Aegon likes you. Maybe not like in the way that his brother likes you— in that intense, possessive way he gets with people and things he care about because there are so few of them — but he likes you. And he loves Aemond on a bad day, and likes him on a good one.

And Aegon knows, as a superior power about crashing and burning, that this is going to hurt both of you in ways that he truly doesn't think Helaena understands.

Because he isn't blind (as his brother) (bad joke?) (probably) to what he sees in Aemond's gaze when it looks at you. Sure it's possessive, sure it's the same way he looks at most people he keeps close to his heart.

But he was the one who saw how Aemond looked at you before Alys came into the picture. Before it morphed into nothing but platonic; morphed close to how he looks at Helaena. In that soft, I'm So Glad This Person Exists I Would Kill Literally Everyone For Them.

Aegon always thought he looked at you like he wanted to devour you. Etch you into his skin until your shape is in red marks across white plane. He looked at you like I Would Kill Myself If You Asked.

It was the possibility of devotion dipped in insanity. Aemond had so few things, much less people, who so vocally, physically, and emotionally cared for him without addendums.

The only real reason he never did anything before was because you were Helaena's best friend. Helaena loved you. And he couldn't destroy that alongside the fact that you might leave his side.

And then Alys happened and that focal point moved.

Aegon knew his brother. Not as intensely, and maybe that's the reason he could see it. To see clearly past the intensity and recognise its edges. Aegon knew his brother in his marrow.

"When this crashes and burns—"

"If!" Helaena quips stubbornly. "If it crashes and burns. Come home. You'll see, Egg. Aemond just needs to see."

"And what if she doesn't reciprocate, Lae-lae? She's not hard to love, and this is Aemond." Even Helaena knows his feelings, once taken root in whatever form, can blossom.

Helaena smiles softly. "Come home. You'll see. I can see it. I've seen it. The possibility of them, and it's so pretty, Egg."

It's really not all that pretty, fake dating.

Maybe it could be, but Aemond Targaryen is such an ass.

"This is not like The Devil Wears Prada fashion montage," you grumble, pinching off the big, 60s, yellow sunglasses off your nose to glare pointedly at the man sat on lounge chair. "All the zippers and tugging— this is not as pretty! And I look ridiculous! I don't wear dresses like these, Aemy!"

"You don't look ridiculous, you look like my girlfriend." He makes his emphasis with an inch raised eyebrow and pouty lips twitching not to laugh. "That's the point, is it not?"

You make a drawl huff. It's not just that his words were right— that's what the past hour has been, roaming around all these big named fashion brands where the staff just knows Aemond Targaryen, if not just by him sauntering in with all the swagger of an asshole you'd walk the other side of the street to ignore, then by the flash of his black card (or three, 'cause what the fuck is money to Targaryens holy shit) — but the way he's sitting as he appraises every look he's chosen for you.

He's lax, as could be in his usually perfect posture, with his hips in the middle, and one leg braced down whilst the other is raised to his other thigh. A confident man's sitting position, with an arm over the length of the sofa, balancing a champagne a trying-to-suppress-her-giddiness staff gave him.

At your disapproved glare— down on your nose at him because you're standing over him, lording over him, as he's sitting down — and he's smirking up at you. As if the power dynamics don't shift by whoever is looming over the other.

Aemond doesn't need to stand to make you feel all fluttery with a smirk and a strong gaze against your body. His eyes gaze from the bottom of your heeled toes, slow, slow, slow, until it reached the top of your head.

Surely you've only imagined his gaze lingering on certain parts of you that now felt hot and tingly.

Surely.

"Plus," he continues with a hum. A sip of champagne. "Isn't this your idea?"

"Yes, but—"

"Didn't you tell me that I should prepare the kind of outfits that Aemond Targaryen's girlfriend would wear—"

 "Yes, but I—"

He leans forward, taking pleasure in arguing with you, as he settles his elbows on his knees, pressing both of his feet flat on the tile. He's looking up, still, but his eyes are intense and the corner of his mouth is twitching from a grin he's trying to fight.

"And even when I told you that didn't matter, that whatever you wore would be fine, you insisted?"

"Because I thought it'd be fun!" you growl and he falls in faint, amused laughter. His eye is sparkling and there's a joy to him that makes you giddy. You truly have missed Aemond as you know him. "Because I wanted a fun dress-up montage, but nothing about this is fun! Why are you choosing so many goddamned zippers, and they're all so fucking tight?"

You plop beside him, stealing his champagne. Staff look away, trying not to ogle too much between you two. As you take sips of his drink, his hand, still over the sofa's arm, begin drawing idle circles on your exposed shoulders. It warms you and calms you down, melting further in the seat beside him.

"I liked the dresses," he finally murmurs. "The ones before this. The flowy fabric ones."

"Those are summer dresses," you say though don't know why.

"Hm," he hums. "You look pretty in them."

You look up at him and he's looking at you, a small smile on his face. The proximity is too near to be proper but not near enough if you're fake dating. You study his silver lashes and the scarred flesh.

"Thanks."

"We'll get them. Is that alright with you?"

You snort softly. "You're paying, Aemy. You can do whatever you want. Can't believe this is how your dates with Alys usually went."

Hatching plans meant unloading information about his former relationship with her. Going through their relationship so you could understand it better, better proportioned the good and the bad, and secretly, make him see the red flags that should jump out in clear, plastic red.

"Not at first." He's looking away now, but his finger is still drawing circles. There's a wistful tone to his voice, like seeing through a dream and a memory. "But when it got... bad, it seemed like the only time we weren't fighting was when we were in public. Almost subconsciously, whenever things got tensed, I'd offer to take us out. Do anything outside of our bubble. Money isn't an issue, and before Alys said she felt like a... cheap whore than a girlfriend, buying things for her, spending time looking through things to wear, to match almost, was safe."

"Gift Giving," you mutter with a nod. He turns.

"What was that?"

"A love language." He cocks his head. You sigh. "I mean it's stupid and not really theoretically accurate, but for fun, there's five types of love languages. People do this test thing and sort of box up the kind of love language you want to receive and what you give— but truly, in my opinion, a true kind of love demands all five for it to work."

He hums, intrigued. "And what are the five?"

"Words of Affirmation, Quality Time, Physical Touch, Acts of Service, Gift Giving. But, you know, all of those should be given by a partner, in increments they can do for you. There shouldn't be a boxed fixture of what your relationship could be."

You shrug, standing up and stretching. You don't see him looking at you in the way that he has been for the past few days, and he doesn't know the tingles and feelings you keep between a smile and a sigh.

"Love looks different for everyone but it should have the same concept."

"And what concept is that?"

You turn to him, smiling. "That if you truly love someone, you can try anything. Love doesn't demand things that you do for the simple reason that you love the person enough."

"Love can be complicated," he says, and he's not arguing, not really. He isn't begging for you to understand. He is simply saying.

"Love can," you agree. "As most things are complicated. But it doesn't have to hurt."

It's a boundary line, the way he blinks, remembering why you're here together, why he gets to touch you in intimate ways, why he gets to pay for clothes, why you spend this time with him. A jolt. A shock.

You don't press and he doesn't retreat. The line exists not just to remind, but to stabilise any projections. Any dangerous tones.

You simply smile, nodding at the time. "Dinner date, babycakes. We can't be late for reservations."

"We can be late for a few minutes," he says, remembering echoes of how Alys sometimes got late. It isn't really her fault; there are days when she's too busy at the law firm, too busy with a meeting or two, or still finishing up her makeup because she doesn't like going to dinner in her work clothes.

"Sure, but we're here together and I know how much you hate being late." You snort.

"I don't hate it."

"Sure, but you got that eye twitch you do when you're annoyed," you tease, tapping your own eye before you wink at him and skip away.

For the past few days since the bar incident, by your suggestion, you and Aemond had pour out the intricacies of how Aemond and Alys' relationship worked whilst hiding your true intention of making him see its faults and corners, and at the same time, continue on with the charade of dating him.

It's been a packed week or so, going to your shifts at the bar, meeting with Cregan once and a while (boy had been busy, and he found the entire thing with Aemond incredibly hilarious).

You answered no question mark in regards on who the hand was, only sent a winky face or a kiss blowing emoji. You continue to post minute representations of your no-longer-single status in brief intervals, making sure that you never name him. You never publicly give him a recognisable body.

But for those that knew, knew.

It really wasn't that hard. There were only so much pale, toned hands, so much body builds you can hide with your hand covering his general face that you can hide without people making smart guesses. There wasn't a lot of pale, toned people around you after all.

But in your refusal to name him, the question continues, and so does Alys silent observation of every post. The only story she had liked had been the very first one.

You often wonder what she thinks, before your mind is devoured once again with everything else.

To be fair, as often as you had both been seeing each other lately— and it has been the most often you have been seeing of him — there were still things outside of Aemond and Helaena plans. And Aemond still had UNI to focus on.

"You know, I often forget you're still in university," you say now, comfortably warm in Aemond's car. All fresh leather seat and crisp new car smell despite knowing that Aemond's had this unit now for at least a year. He maybe rich, but he knew what he liked and took care of them.

He shoots you a quizzical look before looking back at the road. The city is bathed in a gorgeous stream of oranges and pinks, tie-dying glass buildings and bustle of city roads. When you look at him, you smile softly at how pretty the light hits him.

"Why is that? Do I look that young?"

"Your vibe is so old man on a nine to three, cigar breaks by four, and whiskey sours by seven pm."

He makes a disgruntled sound at the back of his throat. You laugh. "I would like to think it's my altruistic classicism. A timeless endeavour."

"Sure, old man," you tease then sigh. "Reality is, I'm so much older than you. I'm hanging out with a child. On my free day. Is this what it means to reach low status?"

"I am not a child." His reply is sharp, cutting, almost offended.

"You're in college."

"And of legal age? You're only four years older."

"Oh, right."

"What?"

You smirk at his dark look. "You like 'em way older."

His face, much like his gaze, heats up. You're imaging it when the ride turns red, the car slows to a stop, and he is looking at your lips. Surely it was, because you got transfixed with the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips. A slow, tantalising movement.

It feels like an eternity stretched within three seconds. The light turns green and both of you turn away.

Well, there's been that. A few times. But it doesn't mean anything. Aemond is in that transition of trying to rid himself of bad habits, of being freshly single once again, and you know he and Alys get in on frequently. This had been a conversation a few days back, on a couch, smell of grease and pizza around the room while Murder She Wrote played in the background.

"Wait, wait, wait." You sat up, folding your legs underneath your butt, and giving Aemond your full attention with a little 'o' in your mouth.

"Wait!" Helaena calls playfully from her sway to the bathroom. "Imma pee!"

"Take care, my beloved!" you call back, before turning to Aemond with a big, Cheshire grin.

"Can we not dwell on it?" He's flustered but is trying not to show it, looking back to the TV as if he understood why there's a body on the plane.

But wine has been had, spilled and shared, and it's enough for you to grab that fluster and the topic, and smirked.

"No, no, we will talk about it. We shall! We must! Do you mean to tell me that by the end of it, most of the time, you two were just boning? Is Aemy, one of my favourite people in the world, a Valyrian Sex God?? Oh my god??"

"I am not a Valyrian Sex God."

"Okay, girly pop, please." You raised a hand in a 'talk to the hand' motion and he was smiling at you, entranced and frustrated. "Women talk, Aemy!"

There was a flush and Helaena came back. Wine did things to Helaena, and she was stumbling and giggling as she flopped behind you, turning around and encasing you in a koala hug.

"Women talk, baby bro." Helaena nodded sagely. "Even I try not to listen, they talk, alas."

"And Alys has said those hips—"  You pointed a j'accuse finger at his hips, then his mouth. "—and that tongue has done things that can make the Maiden blush."

Helaena groaned behind you're back, a slew of 'ew's escaping her mouth. And you were still being playful, teasing, but Aemond was looking at you, though scarlet, with a deepened expression.

And at that moment, both of you were thinking the same thing.

His chin brushing your thighs, your sighs like music to his ears, and his tongue making you scream.

Warmth pooled, twin expressions share a gaze. Hunger, desire, shame.

The connection was destroyed when Helaena abruptly jolted and fell down the carpet. Because she was holding onto you, you got pulled with her.

"Are you okay??" Aemond asked.

Hel gasped. "I thought I saw Bobby. I think I squished Bobby."

You shook your head. "You didn't. Bobby is spry. Bobby knows to move away."

Aemond's confused face peered down at both of you. "Who's Bobby?"

"The local spider that lives here."

"Of course." And he smiled.

You smiled back.

Helaena giggled beside you but when you ask her, she only shook her head.

And the silence that lulls in the car is like both of you reaching the very same memory and having to sit through the stifle of that drunken interaction about his sex life. He coughs, you let out a breathy giggle.

"I should admit something," he says, parking the car in front of the restaurant. Dusk is settling, sunset in bright red and orange turning to a cool blue and pretty lavender— and when you turn to him after getting out of the car, coddling your jacket close to your body, he looks nervy. Apologetic, almost.

"What? What'd you do?"

He bites his bottom lip. "I know something about this restaurant."

"I would assume. You chose it." Your eyes narrow, giving the black-out floor to ceiling windows a look. The Painted Table is lit up in a scrawled font on top of it.

You step inside, not bothering to turn to his call of your name, and is submerged by the restaurant's vibe. It's a darkened place with meaningful lighting but a casual air, a bar on the side, and an upbeat jazzy music dancing in the air — it looks good. The place smelled delicious.

Nothing about it sparked familiarity to you, but the anticipation from that look of guilt on his face brought you to a high-strung, so when he calls your name again, just behind you, you turn.

"Is this where you had your first date with Alys?"

He shakes his head. "No. No, but—"

"Aemond?"

The voice is familiar, and you don't stop enough to think before you're turning to the low, clear voice that's just a hint of husky, and Alys' green eyes go wide at your appearance.

She's dressed nice, dressed to go out in a black dress dipping low and fabric tangled around her body to show off her curves. Her inky hair was swept to one side and her mouth was bloodred.

Alys Rivers, owner of Aemond's firsts. The woman he seemingly can't let go off.

You smile. It feels fake. "Oh. Hi Alys."

Her shock staves off into a genuine smile that makes you guilty. "Hi, my love. I see you two are together. Always attached at the hip. Dinner?"

Before you nod— or maybe strangle Aemond — he comes forward, taking your hand in the process and lacing it. He's looking at her as if he's setting a challenge when Alys' eyes fall on your intertwined hands.

"Yes," he says. "We are."

"Well... that's good. This place is great. I—" Someone calls her name, she turns back. You shoot Aemond a withering glare you hope conveys how much you're going to beat his ass after this. She turns back, smiling still. There's a pinch between her eyes but it's gone by the third blink. "Well, I have to go. I'll see you both soon, okay?" She turns to you, stepping forward, not minding the Targaryen beside you. "Especially you. We haven't hung out in a while."

"That's true, I've missed you, you crazy witch." And she laughs and you smile, because you genuinely consider Alys to be one of your friends. Not maybe as deeply as Helaena's, or as close, but Alys was an amazing person and you enjoy her company.

Plus, right now the one you're angry about it solely the man holding your hand.

Alys turns to Aemond, and he stiffens. Between them is a complicated look. So many things unsaid, before her smirk softens. "It's nice to see you too, Aemond."

And she turns away, walking back to her table, to her date, when you tug him with you to the bar. As you order a dry martini, he speaks. Calm and soft.

"You're mad at me."

"You knew she was going to be here." You turn to him, arching an eyebrow, hating the way your chest pangs. "You stalked her and brought us here because you wanted to use me."

He shifts, face crumples at the word 'use' and calls your name in a plead. "It's not like that."

You snort, taking a sip of your drink when it arrives. "Don't lie."

"Okay. Yes, I did. I... I made an impulsive decision because I wanted to see how she could go on a date as if we were nothing." Bitterness cripples his words, the smirk on his lips is ironic and darkened in hurt. Your heart hurts for him, but you can't give him a pass just like that. He hurt you too.

"You could've told me."

He raises an eyebrow. "You would be okay with this?"

Your own smile is ironic and darkened by hurt. "You're already using me, Aemy. That was the deal I agreed, for Hel. It would at least lick the wound to have been in the know, and not, you know, got shot in the face with it."

At the first part of your tirade, he looked like he wanted to argue with the using part, but the realisation weighs him because it is true. To him, he is using you. And it's a cheap shot on your part because you were also doing this for him, out of your own free will.

You sigh when he turns away, guilt dipping low.

"You're such a dumbass."

He hums in agreement.

You're aware of a gaze from the tables, somewhere in the ocean of jazz music and chatter, Alys is looking, and you kinda wanna make this good for him. You were already here after all.

Your hand reaches his jaw, sliding across his neck until you reach his nape and fingers tangle with the baby hairs there. His hair had been wrapped into a bun. Sleek and fluffy.

He turns to you, to your touch, in shock. "What are you—"

"Try not to look so surprised," you whisper, stepping close to him until your noses are bumping. "We're supposed to be dating."

And then you slant your mouth against his.

TAGGED: @fan-goddess @snh96 @valeskafics @opheliaas-stuff @tempo-rary-fix @fantasticpeaceharmony @diannnnsss @iamavailablesstuff @spinachtz @at-a-rax-ia @bespinnn @tsujifreya @moonlightfoxx @kemillyfreitas @joyouart @bananzaa @honey-on-mars @alexa4040 @cinnamonbambii @wintrr13 @wxb-slingrr @astroswift @queenofshinigamis @helaenaluvr @kaetastic @jxdegodfrey @laniii-on-your-left @watercolorskyy @snowprincesa1 @gemini-mama

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Do you think König would watch corn/look at or think about other women if together? Maybe if he was deployed for a long time? 😪

I just meant to answer this ask with a few sentences on how König gives up porn after meeting you but... things got out of hand (again)

CW: Um. Toxic König being shameless with pictures of you. Reader leaves a paused porn stream lying around to teach König a lesson (and suffers the consequences.) Dirty talk & fluffy smut.

Our toxic King has watched porn, yes. He actually had a crippling porn addiction during his late teenage years. He was a bit of a loner due to bullying, found the internet, and the rest is history (this giant’s hormones were through the roof.)

And you know how it is when there’s a lot of spare time in the army... Even now when he’s older and working for KorTac, there are moments of dullness and boredom at the base, moments when nothing else helps to relieve the tension and anxiety.

But... after he met you, König started to get this odd feeling everytime he opened the stream. He feels a bit dirty, almost like he’s…. cheating on you. He can’t quite bring himself to watch it, let alone enjoy it, and so he closes the tab and has a frustrated fap with no other stimulation but his thoughts.

He thinks about the last time you two met and especially the blowjob you gave him. It's actually even better, remembering how you kneeled in front of him, watching up with compliance and slight terror in your big, wet, shy eyes. You always have that look when you take him in... It's enough to make his cock wet even know.

He especially replays the moment when he came in your mouth and how demurely you swallowed every last drop, how bashful and happy you looked when he praised you about it right after. Of course he wants to make sure you do such things to him again, even if it is a bit cruel of him to have his lady on her knees. It sends a distant sting to his heart to remember how you took both the king-sized cock and the generous load in your warm little mouth... And it also sends him to another thigh-ripping, heart-pounding orgasm just to recall your helpless little whimpers and eager tries to please him.

At some point, he starts to use pictures of you as fapping material, whether it be pics you’ve sent him, pics he’s taken of you, pics on your social media… And you would think it’s your bikini pics this guy is after, but no. Mostly, it’s the decent pictures, the ones where you're smiling and looking at the camera with innocent, bright eyes, the ones where you're clearly having fun with a friend or smiling on the brink of happy tears while petting a kitten. Your old thirst trap selfies from a birthday party are his favourite porn from now on. He's been a fool, not realizing you had tons of pictures online... He could've treated himself to them before he even picked you flowers.

You of course have no idea that he’s doing dirty things like that. Neither do you know König has stopped watching porn because pictures of you being cute get him off just as well or even better than pornography.

But things get interesting when you find some old files on his computer. And who cares if you’re snooping around a little bit: König is always snooping around your stuff, the little – big – gremlin. To your shock, you find hours and hours of material, neatly organized into folders labeled in German. They’re from a time before streaming services were a thing, but still, you’re feeling so very hurt.

Annoyed, you want to give him a lesson and deliberately leave a tab open on your own laptop one day, knowing he will come home soon. It’s just to make him realize how it makes you feel that he watches porn (well, he hasn’t watched those videos since he was a young pup, but you don’t know that).

When König comes home, you act like you’re busy in the kitchen. The paused video of a cute girl getting some attention from two muscular men is waiting for him, still on the screen of your laptop left purposely sitting on the table, as if forgotten.

König is quite loud when he comes in, almost barges in, takes off his shoes as quickly as he can, gives you a pitched yell that he’s home… Your heart is hammering in your chest, the heavy footsteps announce that König is eager to see you, but they end in an abrupt silence when he's stopped by the sight of what’s on your screen.

One, two, three…

You count the seconds in your head before König storms in the kitchen.

To your anxious thrill, the uproar is even worse than you thought. He marches to you, visibly shocked, demanding to know what it is on your screen.

You’ve been watching two naked men while he's been away?

Why...? Why would you even want to watch something like that?? The material is nasty, this sweet girl looks like she's being bullied by two rather big men! He didn’t even know you watched… watched porn.

The argument is quite brief in the end. You throw the accusations right back at him, and he just blinks. It turns out König hasn’t watched porn since he met you (other than those few times during which he got oddly uncomfortable), and he hasn’t watched those old videos in over ten years.

He never answers your questions on why does he want to watch all those "sweet girls" being bullied by "dirty men". He simply marches to his computer and deletes everything while you watch and bite your lip in silence.

Then he goes to your laptop and sets all kinds of sites on block. Huffing and puffing as he does that, you can see how frustrated he is that you’ve watched other men and their cocks.

The rest of the evening König looks at you like he doesn’t even know you anymore, both intrigued and suspicious. You know you’ve insulted his tender masculine sensibilities. But come evening, he teases you about it in bed, asking if one big man is not enough for you. That he didn’t even know his girl was so naughty and needy.

Don't you know that his cock alone could break you? A sweet girl like you could never handle two men... let alone two big cocks.

König has never talked so dirty, and you’re left hot and sweaty and embarrassed, thinking how stupid it is that porn is ruining your already red flagged relationship while also giving you the hottest sex yet. How stupid it is, considering neither of you have even watched those videos in reality.

And it’s not enough for König to ban websites and ensure his "naughty girl" doesn't come across any disturbing material.

You now have to repay him by sending some cute pictures of you wearing nothing but your underwear. Actually, he would prefer it that you wore nothing but your smile.

You will send the pictures to him at certain times of the day when he’s away, no exceptions. He will give you further insturctions on the dates. And you better be smiling on those pictures – one of those smiles you have when you see a cute stray cat or when it's your birthday.

Oh, and by the way: you really should change your social media accounts to private. Any pervert could be going through your photos at any given time.

[christopher-bangnaldoskzz]

Soft Dom Bangchan x Female Reader Sub!

Genre: 🌶️🌶️🌶️

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Oral sex (Male receiving), Hand job. sexual content included I am going to say this is strictly 18+ MDNI fan fiction.

Summary:A sub needs a dom, a dom wants a sub but what happens when feelings overlap with contracts and love creeps in? Will a contract remain only a contract? Or are emotions like love too hard to keep in check?

A/N: would also like to dedicate this story to @daceydeath​ , thank you for always putting up with my deluluness, also thank you for putting up with my drama fill life honestly. I wouldn’t be still writing if it wasn’t for you encouraging me. Also thank you so much for writing my summary xx

You find yourself pulling Chan over to the couch. He flops onto the couch as you walk to the pantry. “Where are you going to stay?….or do you need to return to your schedule?” 

As you picked up the fruit roll-ups, Chan said, "I should probably get going...the boys will wonder where I am." 

“That’s a shame because I was hoping to answer your question about what these are for,” you say with a cheeky grin. Chan checks his watch and raises an eyebrow.

“I’m sure they can do without me for a couple more minutes." You feel excited inside your stomach as you unwrap the roll-up and rip it in two.

You grin as you place yourself on his lap and tuck one end into your mouth. "Here, half." 

He takes the other end in his mouth and meets yours as his kiss becomes hungry for more “What about the other half?" he asks, pulling away.

You shimmy off his lap and pull his black shorts down slightly, wrapping the roll around his shaft. 

Circling his shaft with your tongue before bobbing your head up and down his dick. The roll-up makes your mouth salivate as you pump the end of his shaft while sucking on his head. You feel the pleasure wash over him as you increase the intensity, and he holds onto your head as you drive him wild.

“Oh, this couch is so coming back to mine”, he moans as he combs your hair out of your face. 

“Oh, you like this couch?" you say briefly before devouring his dick, pushing your head further down his shaft.

“I fucking love this couch”, he grunts as he bucks his hips.

“Am I doing well?" you ask as you come up for air.

“Oh, you are doing so well, baby girl”, he moans as his body sinks further into the couch.

The roll-up has dissolved, but the flavour still remains as Chan’s dick hits the back of your throat. You take your time, enjoying the sensation of giving him a blow job. His hands massage your scalp, and he pulls you closer as you take him deeper. It's a thrilling feeling; you can tell he's getting as much pleasure as you.

“Ahhhh”, he growls as his hot liquid flows down your throat; he holds you in place as his body shudders with pleasure and anticipation.

“Shit,” he says, pulling you up for air. 

“You look so sexy like this," he says, brushing your swollen lips with his thumb. Chan pulls you in, combing loose hair from your face while caressing your cheeks. 

“I really need to get back to work," you pout as you sit back on your knees while Chan pulls his shorts up. “Hey….don’t look at me like that…..how about I come here this weekend?" he smiles, lifting your chin up to him. 

“But you have come back….and, besides, I have to help Noah pack the shop up”, Chan grins before leaning down to kiss you again. 

“And I only have one bed”, you continue. 

“Well, I guess we are just going to have to sleep together….besides you are closer to the company anyway." That statement is not true; you were further than Chan, but you couldn’t help but smile at his attempt to keep you happy.

“Okay, it’s settled then…tomorrow night after our comeback stage, I’ll come over” Chan helps you up off the floor before grabbing his laptop case. 

“Get some rest, baby girl…..I’ll see you tomorrow.”

CHAN pov 

I am seriously fighting the urge to stay with her tonight; if it wasn’t for the boys needing me, I would have stayed and shown her how much I appreciate her. 

I felt horrible for just pumping and dumping on her, but I wasn’t planning on being there that long. 

ting 

Changbin

“Bro, where are you? It’s been an hour.” 

Chan

“On my way back.” 

I get my head back into the workspace the closer I get to JYPE. As I walk in the doors of the building, I see division two’s manager Hana. 

“Hana”, I shout as I jog towards her. 

“There you are." She had a big smile on her face. “I was just looking for you….I spoke to the team, and I’d like to offer your friend a job as part of your team." This was great news.

“Really….she’ll be so happy….I’ll get back to you when she can start." I could feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. “I have to go…but I’ll get Y/n to contact you…..thanks, Hana.” 

……

FRIDAY 

TING

Y/N 

“Guess who’s coming to your comeback tonight? 😁” 

Chan

“Who?” 

Y/N 

“Booo, you didn’t even guess." 

Chan 

“😑🙄 is it Ryan Reynolds?” 

Y/N 

“No, silly."

“Even better."

“It’s me.” 

“Hana said she wanted to meet me at the comeback tonight.” 

My nerves suddenly got worse; knowing Y/N would watch me on TV was one thing, but actually having her backstage was another thing. 

Chan

“Oh, that’s great news. 😳😳 I’m not suddenly more nervous.” 

Y/N 

“Don’t be nervous, sir…you will do great….but what did you tell her about our relationship was so I can act accordingly tonight?" 

Chan 

“What do you mean? 😂🤣” 

Y/N 

“Are we friends….lovers…sub and dom?” 

Chan

“Huh….lovers?” 

Y/n 

“🙄🙄🙄 I take it you told her I was a friend.”

Chan

“You want to be my lover, aye😉”

Y/N 

“Okay, I’m going with a friend.” 

Chan 

“Good plan, baby 😉” 

…….

Friday

“Why are my palms so sweaty?" Could this be the most significant moment of my life? Or is it because Y/N is in the ordnance? I’ve never had my ummm partner come to one of these before. 

“Why are you so nervous, Hyung?" Minho rests his hand on my shoulder. 

“Oh, haha….I’m not sure” I smiled at him, hoping he would leave it at that, thank God he did and continued to annoy Han until we heard the call to go out on stage. 

“Okay, boys, huddle up”, I yell as we all come together for our pre-stage chat. The crowd is there to see us...let's go out there and have some fun, yeah." They all nod in agreement, "Yay!" "Stray kids on three....one...two...three" we all yell in the sink "stray kids" before we go on stage. 

I walk on stage and take my passion. “Where is she?” I mumble as my eyes search the crowd for Y/N. Just when I was about to give up, she was fourth row to the far left, in one hand. She had a light stick in the other one of our photo sticks. “Is that my face?" I mumbled. My cheeks were red as I felt a smile form. It was like my ear narrowed in her scream as she waved both the items in the air. 

I quickly divert my eyes from her; the sight of her fan girling over me sends blood rushing straight to my dick. I find myself grinning as I look at the group trying to bring myself back to reality. Pulling myself together just in time to hear the music. 

….

Coming off stage, I have to fight the urge to run and find Y/N; all I want is her attention. I want to see her and fuck her senseless for how adorable she looks tonight. 

Walking back towards the music room, I hear “Chan” I immediately turn to see Hana and Y/N walking towards me. 

“Hi, ladies”, I smile as Y/N has a big grin. 

“That was amazing,” Hana said, but my eyes never left y/n; what I want to do to this girl right now. 

“Thank you. How did you like it, Y/N?" I wanted to involve her in the conversation for selfish reasons.

“Oh, uh, it was brilliant,” she said nervously; good to know she felt the energy between us, too, tonight. 

“Amazing… well, I’ll let you ladies carry on with it….I’ll uh catch you later” fucking idiot, is that all you could say? “Carry on”, I think to myself as I walk away, hoping Y/N doesn’t hear me. 

…..

Y/N POV 

You finally got home after what felt like the longest ride of your life; your heels were hurting your feet, and the clothes you had worn felt so uncomfortable. 

“Finally”, you grow as you lean against the wall to remove your shoes. 

Ting

Chan

“I’ll just shower, then come over.” 

Y/N 

“Why don’t you shower here?" 

Chan

“Oh ummm…okay, I’ll just shower at yours 😅” 

Why is he acting so weird? What’s his problem tonight? You thought it was your first date all over again. You thought the awkwardness would have disappeared after he saw you naked for the first time. However, it turns out it’s only made him more nervous around you.

Chan

“On my way then.” 

10 minutes later, Chan knocks on the door. “Hold up, I’ll be in 2 seconds.”

You try to find the key that’s usually in your fruit bowl. "Shit, where are my keys?" you whisper, hoping he won't hear you. 

“Uh, Y/N, do you think you could hurry up….I’m freezing out here.” 

After a few more seconds, you find them “yes”, you say, proud of yourself.

“Coming” you yell as you run to the door to let him in; he’s still in his makeup and his hair is curly. You can’t help but admire how attractive he is for a moment. 

“Are you intending to invite me in" he asks with a smile.

You move to the side as he brings his duffle bag, placing it on the ground. 

“Good, you haven’t showered yet either”, he says, checking your body out. 

“I just got home,” you said, closing the door. Chan walked closer to you, pinning your back to the door. 

“Did you like the comeback?" You could tell he had been waiting to ask you since he saw you with Hana? 

“You were fucking amazing,” you said, combing your fingers through his hair. 

“I saw you”, he chuckled. “Are you secretly a Sasaeng?” You roll your eyes; you know he’s only joking, but you can't help but respond sarcastically. 

“Let’s not get it twisted, sir….I think you’re more obsessed with me than I am with you." That statement was completely wrong. 

“You know....you're probably right….I’m totally obsessed with you,” he says, lifting you up and carrying you down your hallway and into your ensuite. 

“Really?” You giggled. “Why?” This was an honest question. You never saw yourself as someone who held enough power to make a man let alone a man like Christopher Bang openly admit that he was obsessed with you. 

His eyes burned with an intensity you'd never seen as he placed you on the vanity. “Because you have something I can't resist.” He whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. You could feel your heart racing in your chest. His hands moved to your waist, and he pulled you closer to him. 

You could feel the heat radiating from his body and thought yourself melting in his embrace. You were so close you could feel his breath on your skin.

His lips found yours, and the kiss was like electricity, igniting a fire inside you. You felt yourself being consumed by the intensity of the moment, and you never wanted it to end.

“Let’s take a shower and get ready for bed”, he said, placing his forehead on yours while breathless.

“Let me help you get undressed," he says, slowly undoing your blouse buttons. As he kisses you sucking up the moan with his mouth. He removes your shirt, his eyes fixated on your bra straps; he sticks his finger under the strap and pulls them to the side, kissing you from your collarbone to your shoulder. 

His hands move to the back of you and unclasp your bra's hook. He slides the straps off your shoulders and peels the fabric off your body. His lips find their way to your neck, kissing and licking as they move down. His hands trace the curves of your body as he pulls you closer. He pulls back and looks into your eyes, a smirk on his lips.

He begins to kiss down your body, leaving a trail of light kisses and gentle caresses down your torso. His lips linger as they move lower and lower, exploring every inch. His hands move in sync with his lips, tracing your body's curves as they slowly make their way down.

His lips finally reach your most sensitive area, and he pauses, letting his hands take over the exploration, sending waves of pleasure through your body. 

He proceeds to make his way back up your body, his hand resting just below your breasts, leaning in to kiss you again. You feel his thumb brush over your nipples, causing you to moan into his mouth. 

He sucks the moan up as he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss attempting to pull your pants down. In the process, you lean back so he can slide your work pants down your legs, revealing your black lace thong. 

Chan pulls your underwear off. “How did I not know you had these” he smiles, holding your thong on his index finger.

You giggle as he places them besides you, now caging you in his arms. “You like them? I bought them for you”, a grin formed on your face. 

Chan gulps as you begin to lean in to kiss him. “I fucking love them”, he says softly before closing the gap. As you tug at the bottom of his shirt, his tongue slides along your lips. You feel a jolt of electricity shoot through your body as you deepen the kiss. His hands are in your hair and you can smell the musky scent of his cologne. You can feel his heart racing as his breath quickens. 

Chan brakes the kiss to pull his shirt off quickly, followed by his pants. 

Turning on the hot water, you hopped off the bench and joined Chan by the shower. You stepped inside and felt the water's warmth hit your skin. You embraced Chan tightly and kissed him passionately, letting the hot water fill the room with steam. You both were lost in the moment, completely absorbed in each other and the pleasure of being together.

You rubbed Chan's back and slowly moved your hands to his waist. You began to massage his hips and then moved your hands lower and lower until you reached his member. You felt a sudden rush of heat as your hands grazed his skin. His body trembled with anticipation as you continued to explore. He moaned softly as you stroked him with gentle pressure. You felt your desire rising as you moved your other hand up his body. Pulling him in closer by the back of his neck. He let out a deep sigh as you continued to pump his cock. His body relaxed as he surrendered to your touch. He let out a deep groan of pleasure as you increased the intensity of your strokes. You could feel his body tense with pleasure as he reached his climax. He let out a satisfied sigh as you slowly stopped pleasing him.

"Fuck" was all he could say breathlessly.

You grin as he presses his forehead against yours. 

Chan pov 

How could I let this happen? I surrender too easily with her as I walk into her bedroom. Her bed was all made up of what looked like fresh sheets. 

“Are you sure you okay to stay….I know you don’t like sleeping with anyone” That statement she made was wrong; I would very much like to sleep with her. 

“I’ll be fine…” 

I remember thinking to myself that I might finally get some good rest. In past relationships, my sub has always wanted to sleep in my room; I grew to like this as I often found it hard to sleep alone after leaving the dorms. Watching her get dressed in an oversized t-shirt made the blood rush back down to my dick. How does this keep happening? It’s like I’m never fully satisfied when it comes to her. 

“What side do you sleep on?” I say

“Oh, the left mostly, “she says, pointing to the side closest to the window. 

“Perfect...because I like the right” I pulled back the sheets to the bed. I jumped into the bed and sank into the soft mattress. The pillow was the perfect height. I snuggled deeper into the sheets, enjoying the warmth and comfort. I was ready to enjoy a good night's rest. 

Y/N slides in beside me, her back facing me; I lightly place my hand over her hip bone, and her body stops momentarily before she wiggles back slightly, inching closer towards me. 

I bite the bullet and close the gap between us, my nose in the crock of her neck as I inhale her sweet scent. I lift myself up and move her hair to the side, leaving a trail of kisses down the side of her neck. 

“Goodnight, baby girl”, I said before I got comfortable sliding my hand along her stomach, causing her to wiggle further into my body. 

“Goodnight, sir," she hummed. 

Taglist: @bellamuerte1987 @9900z @armystay89 @dreamstarsandskz @raven-skz95 @fosfopirite @neyangi @princesspanda16 @krishastumblernow @agnes-king @bangtanmix73 @djeniryuu @calicanbeevil @khemrose @fawnpeaks @missrobyn81 @dreambelieveinme @umbreonwolfy @jisungiexx @scarletrosesposts @choisoorin @izzathequeen @binnies-minsung-fanclub​ @jetblackbelle​ @bunnyxoxodarling​ @berryberrytan​ @fawnpeaks​ @sky-outta​  @zerefdragn33l​ @shiningnono​ @tinys0ftie​ @goblin-waifu​ @zinnichong​ @tuggybug​  @nokacchan​ @amaranth-writing​ @seungbinis​ @jisunglover3409​ @kimseungminsprincess​

[lifewithdavefarts]

DaveFarts - Episode 29 “Ripped Ripper” [Episode List] Dave’s gym is closed due to maintenance so he decides to do some working out at home. Lazy Tim doesn’t want to join him, but Dave knows how to make things more… interesting for his kinky bro.

POV: Tim

Ripped Ripper

Another lazy Sunday evening, a great reward after a busy week like the one both me and my friend/roommate Dave just had. I was in my bedroom minding my own business, reading stuff on my laptop, listening to some music: perfect pre-Monday night for a guy like me, now 30, too tired at the idea of doing something that demands a bit more commitment than, well, this. I even closed the window shutters this morning so the Sun couldn’t bother me with its very inappropriate life-bringing light.

Luckily, Dave is a fellow lazy man, so I know I have a good roommate when it comes to just chilling in silence, without even interacting, after a long week. I’ll ask if he wants pizza though, least I can do for not, well, not making up any plans for tonight.

“Babe, come here!”

Speak of the Devil.

I heard my bro from his room, next to my own. I know him, he probably didn’t even need me for anything important, as his voice had that tone he uses to mess with me (and our other buds) like the idiot prankster he sometimes can be.

“Here I come.” I replied, very maturely putting a lot of emphasis on that last word.

I… took my time to actually go on check on him, ‘cause I liked the song I was listening to. Once it was over, I managed to get up, almost tripping on my own sweatpants and slippers somehow.

I walked to his room, knocked a couple of times on the door, which was open, and looked at him with the most bored expression I could muster. 

“You rang?” 

Faint rock music was coming out of Dave’s smartphone on a desk while he was sitting on his bed. He was wearing a blue t-shirt, a pair of grey basketball shorts, and sneakers.

“Not interested.” I then said, walking back to my room.

I heard Dave laugh and then his own footsteps right behind me. He grabbed my left arm and pulled me back to his room. I didn’t fight back ‘cause I know I couldn’t; not because of Dave being strong or anything but because I knew he won’t leave me alone the whole evening.

“Not gonna let you dump me for the fourth time this week.” he said.

“I said I’m not interested.” I replied.

He let me go, sat again on his bed and looked up to me.

“No, you said you wanted to exercise.”

“…eventually!”

“You didn’t say ‘eventually’, you said ’next week’.” He got up and patted my shoulder. “Come on, give it a shot.”

I sighed, defeated, but I still wanted to slip my way out of that situation in a way or another.

“I already tried the gym with you once and I got bored pretty quickly.”

“Oh shut up, you stopped showing up because you were too busy crushing on that hot guy, so much so you got too afraid to work in with him.”

I looked at him with a puzzled look, pretending to have no idea of what was he talking about.

“Also I’m way hotter than him and I’m very offended by your poor taste.” he joked.

I rolled my eyes in response, even though, yeah, I do think Dave is quite hot, regardless of my kink obviously.

“Look.” I said. “I just don’t feel like it today, I hav-“

“I have to work tomorrow” he completed my sentence, also doing a very poor imitation of my voice. “So do I, man. It’s not even 4:00 PM. The Sun’s still up. Do you even look outside of your window sometimes?”

I literally shook my head in disbelief.

“Wait, what?”

I sincerely thought it was, like, almost dinner time. Maybe Dave’s got a point, after all.

“…maybe you’re right.”

I noticed a small exercise mat on the floor by Dave’s bed; I simply sat there, waiting for my friend’s instruction.

“Alright, lead me to a healthy life of wellness where I don’t trip on my own slippers.”

“Well you’re in the wrong place!” Dave excitedly said, in a bit of self-irony since he’s not super fit himself, but he’s better than me at this no doubt.

The room was big enough so the two of us could lie on the floor. He pretty much lied on his back next to me as a way to “guide” me through the first exercise, one I was actually familiar with: crunches.

“Should I do some warm-up first?” I asked.

“Yeah, you should have, but since you’re right here just… give it a shot. It’s not like you’re gonna die.” He placed his hands on the back of his own head, starting the exercise. “…I think.”

Even though the fact that I’m into farts and that my friend right here constantly blasts me should be the most embarrassing thing about myself, my performance during this first, relatively easy exercise was definitely more painful to watch: I couldn’t even finish a set (around 20 crunches), while Dave was humiliating me. I struggled so much and felt pain in my chest for some reason; I was already sweating and panting.

Not even 5 minutes in and I already wanted to quit.

“Yeah.” I managed to say, lying on my back, as my bro kept crunchin’. “Not my cup of tea.”

“The hardest part is getting started.” he commented.

“Wow. Thanks Master.” I replied, sarcastically.

He stopped mid-crunch, and turned to me, looking me at funny.

“Tim, blasting you with my farts doesn’t make me your Master.” he said, with a mocking tone.

I instantly sat back up as if I woke up from a nightmare. 

“What the fuck.” I turned to him, as he resumed doing his crunches. “Where did that come from?!”

“It’s fine bro.” he kept teasing me. “You can keep calling me ‘Dave’ if that’s fine for you.” he laughed.

Hearing my straight friend just casually making references to my fart kink, let alone the fact that he constantly face-farts me, will always be wild to me, like a fever dream. And also insanely hot, dammit.

“Is this because I suck at doing crunches?” I asked, not very politely.

“No, it’s because you’re already giving up.” 

“It’s just…” I sighed. “That’s just my thing bro, sorry. But thanks for trying to help, really.”

I lied on my back again, defeated, as Dave kept exercising. I could sense my friend looking at me, probably with his usual smirk, completely unfazed by me moping around, exhausted.

“Well… maybe I can do something to make things a bit more interesting for your lazy ass.” I heard him say, finally breaking the silence.

A silence that soon became a distant memory as the sound of Dave’s sudden, loud fart shook the entire room, easily surpassing the faint rock music coming from his phone. I’m used to my bro’s blasts and trust me, they are almost always loud, but this one felt even stronger somehow. It was also, but that goes without saying, long, like 9 seconds long. 

As ridiculous as I may sound… I had to see it. 

I sat back up one more time so I could get a good view and I saw Dave still lying on his back, one leg up to ease the blast out. How the grey fabric of his basketball shorts could endure that stream of gas is a mystery to me. His eyes were closed: he had the facial expression of someone surprisingly struggling to keep that blast going, a sign that he was holding that gas in for a while, which is unusual ‘cause my friend usually can rip monstrously long and loud blast with relative low effort.

Whether the case… that was a very hot sight, the tent I pitched in my sweatpants being the undeniable proof.

As the fart kept going, Dave lifted his left leg even more, as if there was a recoil, making it even louder.

The fart lasted around 14 seconds and my friend let out a quick sigh of relief as he ripped one last toot out. That sounded (and looked) more exhausting than me trying to do crunches.

The teasing bastard winked at me, ‘cause he knows how to press all the right buttons of my fetish.

“You know what I’m capable of…” he said. “Now imagine my skills, like, powered up by protein shakes.” he laughed and let another loud, but shorter (around 3 seconds) toot out to prove it, not that he needed to, as his farting skills are always jaw-dropping.

Still, he’s a teasing bastard.

The scent of his ass polluting the room reached my nose and I coughed a bit for how rancid that was.

“Are you seriously… bribing me with farts?” that’s a sentence I just said, fuck my life.

“Maybe.” another quick toot followed. “Is it working?”

“I’m going to punch you.” 

“Can’t finish a set of crunches and he wants to punch me.” he laughed. “Pissing you off is so easy bro.”

“I’m not pissed off.” I wanted to clarify. “You… you’re just making me hard.”

Even though Dave knows about my kink and fully accepted me, I still have a hard time letting him know that his farting skills (and teasing, nonetheless) never fail to give me a massive boner.

Dave looked at me funny, faking a serious expression. Then let out another loud rip in response, around 4 seconds long. Why do I even worry…

“Of course.” I simply said, too embarrassed to even look at him though.

As usual, he didn’t care, and only found my awkwardness hilarious. Disgustingly hilarious.

“It’s fine… at least you tried.” he then said. “We’ll give it another shot tomorrow.” 

I turned to him, appreciating the encouraging words.

“Still.” he said, adjusting his position. “I’m still gonna need a spotter to count those.”

“Yeah.” I nodded, without thinking. “I can do that.”

He let out an evil cackle in response, with that smug, hot smirk drawn on his face.

“So, what are we counting? Pushups? Crunches? Stars?”

I remained seated on the floor as Dave stood up, easily towering over me. He looked down to me and I, silly me, realised too late where this was going, even though I should have known.

“Who said anything about pushups and crunches?”

My gassy friend turned around and, simply put, sat full weight on my head as if it was a stool, his very gentle way to force me to lie down, with yet another loud toot thrown into the mix for good measure, one that I could properly smell this time.

The protein shakes are a powerful fuel and the scent reminded me of rotten eggs, which made me cough again as I lied down, letting my bro’s ass crush me.

However, that didn’t happen, not as violently as I expected at least. Dave’s ass was actually hovering only inches from my face; he could easily simply sit on me and let his ass roar but for some reason he didn’t.

“One.” I heard Dave say.

A fart quickly followed, loud, high pitched and wet-ish. I had to close my eyes as I literally felt the rancid gas erupting on my face, the thin grey fabric of Dave’s basketball shorts being the only thing separating me from his raging anus.

After a couple of seconds, the fart ended, and my bro got back up, but he wasn’t done at all. He let me took some breaths of (relatively) fresh air, only to bend his knees again mere moments later.

He was squatting over my face, basically, his ass barely tickling the tip of my nose.

“Two.”

Yet another impressive fart, the stench adding up to what was left of the previous one. Things were already getting too exhausting even for my trained nostrils: this is why I should never leave my room again.

But as much as I could “hate” what was happening, as Dave’s ass roared all over my face, my boner only got harder. My bro is not the hottest man in the world but he is quite hot and having a guy like him blasting me so effortlessly, no strings attached, will never cease to amaze me. 

I was definitely enjoying the sound more than the smell however, which made me feel like I was drowning in a sewer.

“What the fuck did you put in that protein shake, man?!”

I managed to ask, my voice being almost nothing compared to the loudness of the fart Dave was still ripping all over me. However, he did hear me, as his ass “bounced” a bit over my nose, a sign that he was laughing like the jerk bully he sometimes can be.

After a total of 12 seconds I was greeted with newfound silence and my bro got up, but before I could do or say anything or, you know, breathe, he squatted again.

“Three.”

Another loud rip, this time shorter, about 4 seconds, but still extremely dangerous stench-wise. Also, those were getting wetter and wetter. The sweat dampening Dave’s asscrack through his grey shorts didn’t help at all and only made the fart wetter and the stench stronger.

My bro’s ass went silent and I quickly asked a simple question.

“How many squats are you planning to do exactly?”

Dave laughed in response, as usual. “You tell me, it’s leg day.”

The second part of his answer was him squatting again on my face, this time making sure to crush my skull. He then made sure to shove down my throat and nostrils another powerful, protein shake-powered blast.

A wet one, a fully wet one, but Dave was a pro, so I knew it was just very nasty gas. Still, a good challenge to test the limits of my already disgusting kink. The blast was so powerful it made droplets of sweat from his ass rain all over my face: whether Dave was sweating because of the squats or the endeavor of pushing such big farts out I shall never know.

What I did know, is that after 9 seconds, Dave got up again, and at this point I couldn’t even remember what pure oxygen tasted like as not only my face, but the entire room was now basically engulfed with gas.

Dave instead, towering over me, proudly took a deep breath, showing off his muscles (which wasn’t a lot, but he definitely looked ripped when compared to me) and then stared down at his victim.

“And you wanted to quit.” he stated.

I couldn’t even come up with a proper comeback because his ass was already in my mouth, hastily erupting yet another fart, one I could actually taste.

He kept squatting on my face, repeatedly, each time ripping a fart, a loud wet rip, each time sweating more and more. My friend was wearing a pair of grey basketballs shorts but all of that sweat made his asscrack completely visible, basically proving he went commando for some reason, which also meant that there was basically nothing between me and the sheer force of Dave’s anus.

My bro farted so many times in my face over the last months I couldn’t even count it, but things rarely got this… filthy.

I got my face soaked wet in sweat which wasn’t even mine, but rather from Dave’s ass, fart-scented and fart-flavoured sweat; kink or not, my limits were being tested here.

And apparently, Dave’s job is completely ignoring such limits.

For his 20th and final squat, he just completely sat on my face, spreading his legs wide, so my nose could easily fit in his sweaty, ripe asscrack. He wiggled his ass as if he was wiping the sweat off of it using my face, and then I felt him push.

Bubbles, that’s how I can describe it. That display of flatulence was as wet and disgusting as you imagine, a mix of gas and sweat engulfing my nose and nostrils, making my entire head shake, so rancid I could smell it without even breathing in. 

The fart was so thick I could taste it and my eyes were burning for all that gas.

I feared that Dave’s limit were also being tested here, given how wet that fart was; but no, it was just terrible, terrible air coming out from his sweaty ass.

After almost 20 seconds of torture, I was done.

The sewer comparison I made before was now in full effect: truth to be told, I couldn’t take it anymore, I was drowning, suffocating, and I wanted to get out of there, I needed air, like actual air, oxygen.

Mustering all the strength I have in what passes for “muscles” in my arms, I managed, not without struggle, to actually push Dave’s roaring ass away from my face, which actually surprised him as he tripped over.

I coughed my way to freedom and took deep long breaths. The air in the room was still filthy but it felt like pure fresh air compared to the source, the depths of my friend’s ass who, in the meantime, actually stopped farting. I remained there, lying down, wondering how I could even survive those blasts.

Despite being disgusted, pre-cum leaked from the tip of my hard cock, so I guess this wasn’t beyond my limits after all. 

As I kept trying to clean my nostrils by taking more deep breaths, I heard Dave, lying next to me just like before, slow clapping, as if he was some kind of villain of a heist movie being (falsely) impressed by the heroes.

I scolded him with an annoyed glare. “What the fuck are you doing now?”

“Not bad for a first day, huh?” he simply said, with a smirk. “You managed to lift me, that’s impressive.”

“Those were my survival instincts kicking in.” I remarked.

I lied down, exhausted, staring at the ceiling, Dave doing the same. I could once again hear the faint rock music coming from his phone on the desk: good, I was afraid today’s ass-thunders made me deaf.

“I wanna try again tomorrow.” I admitted. “No farts though.” I quickly added.

He laughed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

We remained silent for a few moments, as I tried to ignore the massive boner I still had.

“Look at us.” Dave said. “Covered in sweat, panting. It’s like we just had sex.” he joked.

“You wish.” I replied.

A few more moments of silence, a silence that Dave broke one last time by doing a deft leg-lift to rip a quick, loud, wet toot.

“Told ya it’s leg day.”

The End

[lvrsparadise]

'strangers.' - M.S

synopsis - "and then one random night when everything changes, you won't reply, and we'll go back to strangers."

warnings! - angst, kissing, profanity, depressing (i hurt my own heart writing this), italics are flashbacks, the bold italic in matt's pov is his thoughts (he's battling with himself). based on strangers by kenya grace

a/n - i wrote this in math class..... anyways. i absolutely love this, but hate myself for making it so sad. also, just to clarify, when the text part comes up, he's not cheating !! my friend thought he was and i had to clarify. (ths is me stalling as i try to finish the tracklist post and finish nikes (i started it!!!))

i smile as i get in the car,

we’ll get in your car.

matt leans over and gives me a kiss.

and you’ll lean to kiss me.

i look to the backseat to see the seats down and blankets and colorful lights decorating the back of the van.

“what’s that?” i turn my head to him with my brows furrowed, but a smile on my face nonetheless.

“movie night under the stars.” he smiles as he puts the car in drive and starts driving.

“you’re kidding right?”

“no, i’m not.” he reaches over and grabs my hand, lacing our fingers together and resting our interlocked hands on the center console.

--

we’ve parked in a field with the sunroof open.

i get out of the front seat and open the backdoor, crawling into the back of the van, lying on all the fuzzy blankets.

“how long did it take to set this all up?” i laugh as he gets in and lies down beside me, opening his backpack and getting out his laptop before pulling me into his arms.

“don’t even ask.” he shakes his head softly with a chuckle before he kisses my head and opens his computer, turning on our favorite movie before grabbing one of the many blankets and draping it over us.

we’ll talk for hours and lie on the backseat.

----

i sigh as i turn my phone back on.

maybe i’m being too paranoid. 

maybe he’s just busy, being famous is time consuming.

and then one random night

i try to refocus on the show that’s on my tv, for the 4th time. nothing’s working. why can’t i distract my mind long enough?

i only just sent the text.

maybe his phone’s dead.

when everything changes

no. i shake my head softly to clear my thoughts and i grab my phone and walk into my kitchen, placing it on the counter before walking back to the living room and switching the tv to a movie i’ve only seen but a thousand times just to rip my mind away from him.

you won’t reply,

and we'll go back to strangers.

----

my eyes light up when i look at the bouquet of red dahlias in matt’s hands.

“where’d you get these?”

“i kind of drove around for like 3 hours searching for a shop that sells them.” he chuckles nervously and scratches the back of his head.

“well, they’re gorgeous!” i look back up to his face to see the kindest smile on it, making his otherwise sharp features soft and kind.

“i’m surprised you still remember, i told you these were my favorite back in middle school.”

“of course i remembered. i always remember everything you tell me. i'll write them in my notes app or i'll go home and write them in my journal for me to go back to.” how does this man get any better? 

“i-” i’m speechless at the small confession, his words meaning more than i thought they would, making my heart flutter.

i take the bouquet into my hands and smell the flowers, smelling as good as the last time he got me them.

“do you want to take those with us, or do you want to set them in a vase first?”

“i don’t know, actually.” i chuckle and look back up at his face.

“here.” he grabs them from my hand and gestures for me to walk back into my house, him following in after me. 

we walk into the kitchen and i immediately spot the vase my mother got me for my birthday. i grab that and fill it with some water as matt sets the bouquet on the counter, unwrapping them and cutting the stems.

i set the vase in the middle of the island and matt carries over the flowers, placing them in the vase before grabbing one out and handing it to me.

“thank you matt.” i place one hand on the side of his face, pulling his face closer and kissing him.

“anything for my pretty lady.”

----

it’s been a few hours, maybe he’s replied?

i’m hungry anyways.

i get up from the couch and walk into the kitchen, grabbing out food and making me something to eat before picking up my phone.

i take a deep breath and turn on the screen.

nothing. great.

stop overthinking it. it’s probably nothing.

i open my phone and click on instagram, looking through everyone’s stories, matts popping up first.

it’s just a promotion of their new video.

that’s right, maybe he was filming and didn’t get to be on his phone.

---

!Matt’s POV!

i stare at the text on my screen for a little longer than i should.

pretty girl ♡: hey, i was wondering if you wanted to go out to eat tonight?

i just lock my phone and toss it next to me on my bed.

and then one random night

it’s not her fault, it’s mine. i just can’t be around her anymore.

we’ve already fought about it many times. im just helping.

when everything changes.

right?

she’s mad i don’t want to show her off, which is wrong. i want to. so bad.

but i don’t want her to get hurt.

but isn’t that what you’re doing to her now?

shut up.

all you’re doing is making her hurt more.

stop it.

it’s your fault if she shows up at your door crying and screaming.

that won’t happen.

yes it will. and it’ll be all your fault.

i said stop it.

you can’t get rid of me. not like you’re getting rid of her.

i’m not getting rid of her. i'm helping her.

like ghosting her is helping her.

you won’t reply

i scrub my hand over my face and sigh.

“fuck, fuck, fuck.” maybe this isn’t such a good idea.

there’s no going back now.

and we’ll go back to strangers.

Tags ! ✮

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If you want to be added to the list, all you have to do is ask ! ✮

I love you all !

And I hope you all have a good day and / or night ✮

[vicsnook]

Wildest Dreams | Bob Floyd x Reader x Jake Seresin

word count: 2701

warnings: break up, SMUT MINORS DNI 18+ , oral, fingering, sex

song pairing: Wildest Dreams - Taylor Swift

notes: Hi y'all! Hope all is well. I have been on a Hangman kick lately and also with 1989 probably being the next re-recording well this was inspired. Please forgive me for making our sweet Bob not so sweet but I promise we will get sweet Bob back soon. This will have more parts so stay tuned! Please if you don' t mind like and reblog!!! Also thank you for all the likes and reblogs on my previous works, it truly means the world to me.

The breakup was sudden. A string of arguments over phone calls that didn’t last more than 5 minutes were the cause. Bob’s deployment was extended but Nat was shipped back. He was Cobra’s new backseater and with that came new trust issues.

His short or missed phone calls, no texts, and lack of caring came as a surprise. The biggest slap in the face was when he missed your birthday. Everyone at the Hard Deck huddled around the laptop waiting on him to pop up any second yet he never did. That was the night it all was over for you.

You ran out of the Hard Deck trying to hide the tears from the rest of your teammates. Only Jake and Nat knew about the fights and were both surprised at how sweet Bob might have all been an act. You could hear footsteps behind you in the sand as you quickly dried your tears ready to pretend you were fine. 

“I’m okay, I just needed some air,” you said turning around to find Jake headed towards you. “Come on, let's get you out of here,” he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as he guided you to his car. You let the tears fall as he drove you home. Jake was one of the only people you trusted and who knew exactly how you felt.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked as he approached a stop sign in your neighborhood.

“It’s over. I’m going to break it off. Not that there’s anything left either way.” 

“Are you sure, Peach? I know things have been really rocky the past couple of months but maybe talk to him first?” he mumbled as he pulled into the driveway.

“There’s nothing to talk about Jake. He didn’t show. I’m done waiting for him when all he seems to care about is Cobra.” your tone was harsher than you expected but it was true. Bob assured you when he was assigned as Cobra’s backseater that it would be strictly professional. Yet the friendly outings blasted all over her social media and Bob’s exasperation whenever you asked were enough for you to come to the conclusion that your relationship was over. 

Jake followed you to your door knowing you shouldn’t be alone. Usually, you’d try to get him to leave but you were exhausted. He watched quietly as you started putting Bob’s things and gifts in a box. 

Nearly an hour later you were finished. The tears came and went but when you closed the top of the box the heartache seemed to worsen. You turned around and walked over to Jake who stood up and engulfed you in a hug as you started to sob.  “Let it all out, sweetheart. I’m here,” he whispered against your head as you cried.

—

Your phone ringing woke you up and as you reached for it the events of last night came reeling back in. The call ended as you stared at Bob’s face on your screen. 3 missed calls and 1 text. 

Clicking on the text you felt your stomach sink as you read it. “We need to talk and I’m so sorry about last night baby. Love you” you stifled back a sob. It was over. His face popped up again as his call came through. Hesitant you answered it anyway. Better to get it over with now.

“Hello?” he said quietly. 

“Hey” 

“Look Peach, I’m really sorry I missed last night” he sighed. “I’ll make it up to you. Work is just really stressful and-”

But you’d heard that before. He’d make it up to you and things would be fine for a while but it would be just a matter of time til it happened again. Cutting him off you ripped off the bandaid. “Stop, please. Bob, it’s over. I can't do this anymore.” 

“No! Peach talk to me please” he pleaded as you ended the call. 

He tried to call again but you didn’t answer this time. Instead, you headed for the shower not even bothering to take your sleep shirt off as you got in. Sitting on the tub letting the hot water soak you as you sobbed. You wanted to go back into your room and answer the phone but you knew it was better this way. He would’ve never broken up with you so it was up to you to take the hint and end it. 

A knock on your bathroom door startled you. “Peach, is everything okay?” said Jake from the other side. He never did leave last night. You figured he slept on the couch and stayed to check on you. “Yeah, I’ll be out in a sec,” you shouted back trying to hide the fact that you’d been crying. “Okay, I’ll be in the kitchen.” the uncertainty in his voice told you he knew you were lying.

You threw your clothes into the dryer that was thankfully in the bathroom then wrapped your towel around you and headed to your room to get dressed. Jake shouted breakfast was ready as you clasped your bra. “Coming!” you shouted back, throwing your Navy sweatshirt on.

“Hey stranger, made you some pancakes,” said Jake as he slid the plate in front of you. Chocolate chip, your favorite.

“You didn’t have to do that Jake,” you replied quietly as he shrugged in response. Your appetite was non-existent but you didn’t want to seem ungrateful so you scarfed down one of the pancakes.

“Bob called. He’s been calling me and Nat all morning.” 

“Did you answer?” you swallowed hard. Hoping he didn’t.

“No,  but have you talked to him?”

Staring down at your plate you mumbled back “Yeah. I ended it and hung up on him.” 

“Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” 

Jake pulled you into a hug before you could even reply. Sticking by you the rest of the day as you dropped off Bob’s things at Nat’s and then watching rom-coms with you that only managed to make you cry even more.

—

Bob tried calling the first week. An abundance of texts sat unanswered on your phone too. He even sent you roses which ended up at Nat’s since you didn’t want them but didn’t want to throw them out. But as the 2-month mark neared he finally stopped. According to Nat, he wasn't on Cobra’s social media anymore and he asked her about you every week but it was too late now. 

He said, "Let's get out of this town

Drive out of the city, away from the crowds”

The sound of Jake’s truck in your driveway snapped you out of your thoughts. He’d been there through it all for you. Making you get out of the house and not letting you drown in sorrow. Today he was taking you to a flea market you’d mentioned at work. It was a 2-hour drive and you tried to get him to reconsider but he just said he loved a good road trip and you knew you couldn’t fight him.

The drive-up was uneventful and you couldn’t deny Jake’s playlist was great. Singing along to Jolene as he pulled into the parking lot. “Wow this place is huge,” you mumbled. 

Jake smiled up at you as you walked the booths. His arms holding your new books. You turned around suddenly bumping into Jake when you realized you passed the records booth. He grabbed your waist to prevent you from falling.

He's so tall and handsome as hell

His green eyes were on yours as he towered over you. You couldn't help the butterflies in your stomach as you shook your head to snap yourself out of the trance and then quickly headed toward another booth. 

—

As you and Jake ate that afternoon at a little cafe on the side of the road you couldn't help but stare at his handsome features. A couple of times he made funny faces when he caught you staring and you tried to shake off the feeling you got when he did.

Standing in a nice dress

Staring at the sunset, babe

Walking back to the truck you stopped to take a picture of the sunset. The breeze ruffling your blue sundress. Jake ran ahead of you and opened the truck door for you. Standing in front of him, as he towered over you, your eyes flickered down to his lips.

Red lips and rosy cheeks

“I like your red lipstick,” he whispered. You looked down as your cheeks blushed but his fingers lifted your chin to look up at him. Before you could overthink it you pulled his shirt and pulled him down to you, pressing your lips to his as his hands reached for your waist. The kiss was slow and it felt natural as his tongue tangled up with yours. 

When you finally parted to breathe, he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I’m sorry if I overstepped” you mumbled to him as you turned to get into the truck. “I’m not sorry,” he replied as he rounded the truck and got in.

 Jake grabbed your hand as you got on the highway back to Miramar, a comfortable silence had settled between y’all. Only being interrupted when he pulled into your driveway and you asked if he wanted to come in.

Setting down your books on the coffee table, Jake excused himself to the bathroom. Your mind still reeling from the kiss. Your heart still ached for Bob but you couldn't deny the feelings that had recently come to the surface as you started to hang out more with Jake.

You turned on the tv and put on Game of Thrones which was Jake’s favorite then headed to the kitchen and poured two glasses of red wine. “That for me?”  he asked as he came and grabbed the glass for your hand and quickly pecked your lips. “Yes, I uh also put on Game of Thrones. We can watch something else though if you want.” you rambled as you followed him out of the kitchen and then settled on the couch.

“Nah, this is perfect” he replied as he stretched and placed his arm on your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. Jake was very into the show but you couldn't concentrate on anything other than the fact that he’d kissed you twice today and now it was nearly midnight and he was still here. On the one hand, you didn't want him to leave but you also didnt want whatever was happening to progress quickly and ruin your friendship.  “Hello? Earth to Peach?” he said breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I said it's getting late, maybe I should go,” he stared at you waiting on a response. You eyed the wine on the coffee table now empty. Not wanting him to drive home under the influence you responded “You’ve been drinking, it’s okay if you stay.” 

“Peach, I’m okay really. I don't want to overstay my welcome.”

“No, please. Stay.” your lips crashed into his before he could say anything else. The kiss started slow but it turned more passionate as you moved to straddle his lap. His hands were on your ass as your tongues fought for dominance. You pulled away and slowly got up, holding his hand as you guided him toward your room. 

I said, "No one has to know what we do"

His hands are in my hair, his clothes are in my room

“Are you sure about this, Peach?” he mumbled while kissing your neck. You nodded in response as a moan escaped your lips when he pulled your hair. “Use your words, Peach.”

“I’m sure” you whispered as he laid you down on the bed and climbed on top of you. You pulled his shirt up and ran your hands across his abs as he kissed you, only pulling away to take his shirt off. His right hand squeezed your breasts as you desperately kissed him. Your body jolted with every touch. There was no denying being touch starved from Bob’s long deployment might have influenced this to happen so quickly but as he kissed your thighs your mind went blank. 

And his voice is a familiar sound

Nothing lasts forever

But this is getting good now

“Can I eat you out?” Jake mumbled against your thigh. “Yes,” you panted as he slowly took off your underwear and threw it somewhere with the rest of his clothes. He sucks on your clit and your fingers grasp for his hair as your moans fill the room. He pulls away and licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit, his green eyes piercing through yours as you moan his name. “You like that, honey?” he says as he thrusts one finger in you and you feel your legs start to shake. 

He adds another finger and hits your g-spot as he sucks on your clit. Your legs tighten around his head as he starts to go faster. Your vision goes white with pleasure as your legs start to shake while you come in his mouth as he continues to finger you through your orgasm. “You taste so good baby” Jake mutters as you start to come down from your high. 

You taste yourself on his lips as he kisses you. He pulls away to take off his jeans as you take off the sundress and chuck it on the floor. Quickly his lips are back on yours as you grab his bulge and he groans in your mouth. Your fingers tug at the waistband of his boxers and as you pull them down you grab his cock. Slowly stroking it as he pulls the boxers all the way off.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Peach?” he asks once more as you kiss his neck. “Yes, Jake” you respond and so he reaches down to his pants on the floor and pulls a condom out of his wallet. He quickly puts it on and as he rubs his cock against your entrance you wrap your legs around him and pull him to you. Moaning his name loudly as he begins to thrust slowly into you.

 “Faster, Jake” you whine as he starts to quicken up the pace. He lowers his right hand down to rub your clit as he thrusts into you. You kiss him desperately as you feel yourself getting close. His left hand squeezing your breast. “I’m close” you moan and that sets something off in Jake and he begins to thrust faster and harder into you.

Screaming his name you feel yourself coming and he comes too as your cunt tightens around his cock. Holding on to you as you both come down from your highs. He slowly pulls out and chucks the condom into your bedside trashcan. Laying beside you he pulls you to his chest as you throw your leg over him. Both of you drifting off to sleep.

— 

You'll see me in hindsight

Tangled up with you all night

Burning it down

Monday rolls around too quickly and Jake has been at your apartment since Saturday night. He leaves early that morning to get to work before you and at work, you both act like nothing happened since you didnt want the team to know. Worried about what they might say.

Jake winks at you as you head for the showers and your mind wanders back to last nights steamy shower with him. You hurry while getting dressed and practically run to your car and when you pull into your street you see the familiar truck in the driveway. As you park next to him he gets out of the truck and rounds your car to open your door. Making you giggle as he throws you over his shoulder.

But before he can walk to your door a car door shuts behind you and when you lift your head to see who it is, it's the one person you were not prepared to see again.

Bob.

Say you'll see me again

Even if it's just in your wildest dreams

(click here to read pt 2)

[dawnagustd]

MU$IC FAIRY || MYG

❃ Festivaled Away: Burned Memories hosted by @bangtanbathhouse​  

⤞ Ticket: Playlist ⤞ Main Event: Based on a Playlist ⤞ Games: fucking playlist | sensory deprivation | breath play | phone sex | oral fixation

⤞ title: mu$ic fairy  ⤞ pairing: rapper!yoongi x podcaster!female oc/reader ⤞ genre: smut   ⤞ summary: When Yoongi’s career started to kick off, he never imagined he’d have a secret admirer this early in the game. Sure, random women throw themselves at him all the time, but this one has a different approach when it comes to getting his attention.  ⤞ word count: 11k ⤞ warnings: strong language | sexual tension | pet names | dirty talk | guided masturbation | ball fondling | dom/sub dynamics | sensory deprivation | breath play | phone sex | oral fixation | mutual masturbation | protected sex | ruined orgasms | orgasm denial | hard dom!yoongi | sub!reader | blindfolding kinda? | rough sex | choking | degradation | face down doggy/ass shots | hair pulling | squirting | ass slapping | nipple sucking | multiple orgasms | blowjob | face/throat fucking | yoongi moaning(yes that’s a warning) | oral (male and female receiving) | face slapping | finger sucking | clit biting | gagging | bdsm themes | orgasm control | cum swallowing | praising | cum swapping | forced orgasms | kissing but not the cute kind | aftercare | yoongi’s harsh(no other way to put it) | crying(the good kind) | sex & music | manhandling | sex with no feelings | marking/biting/scratching | possessive!yoongi(like he’s obsessed with marking her up) | pain kink | you’re either going to love me or hate me for the ending | pov switches | lying ass heauxs | toxic behavior because they are wild lol | alcohol consumption | the oc is slightly curvy and brown like me😜 ⤞ rating: 18+  ⤞ a/n: This got way out of hand lol. I tried to write a drabble but it just didn’t work out. I need to first and foremost give a special thanks to my beta readers Bambi @agustdealer & Ryen @kithtaehyung​ for not only looking over this for me but listening to me cry and rip this story apart over and over lol(there may still be some mistakes because I’m a clown and added stuff they didn’t read). I really appreciate your dedication and faith in me. Also, praise needs to be given to the ever so talented Ryen @/kithtaehyung for this amazing banner. She slayed as always. Lastly, thank you Madame Amai @kkulmoon​ for hosting this event. I hope you all enjoy it. Don’t forget to comment, reblog, and leave feedback to let me know what you think.💖

Playlist: Vulture Island V2 by ROB49 ft Lil Baby | It’s Givin’ by Latto | Whole Lotta Money by BIA ft. Nicki Minaj | Thick by O.T. Genasis ft. 2Chainz | MMM MMM by Kali ft. ATL Jacob | Have Mercy by Chlöe Bailey

Read on AO3

Thank you for completing our questionnaire. Please stay on the line and allow us to find you the perfect match…

With a few basic questions and a two minute wait, he was paired with a woman that sounds rather beautiful. He imagines that she is, at least. Well, he hopes. 

He’s been chatting with her for about an half of a minute, and he’s feeling her. So he doesn’t hang up when the official timer begins.

“So umm…how confidential is this?” He can never be too careful. This could ruin his reputation if someone found out.  “You said you’ve done this before, right?”

“Yeah, it’s safe, love. Trust me.” 

He hopes you’re right. 

“After you complete the questionnaire, they pair you with a random person who has similar preferences.”

He pushes the worrisome thoughts to the back of his mind and proceeds to pleasure himself before time is up. He’s currently living paycheck to paycheck, so fifteen minutes was all he could afford.

“Should I lead or…?”

He scoffs out a laugh. “I got it, babe. Just vibe with me.”

“Okay.” Your response is through small labored breaths. You must be broke as shit too because you aren’t wasting any time. “C-Can you put on some music or something?...I umm, can’t do it  when it’s this quiet.”

He grabs his laptop and allows whatever track is next to travel through the speakers.

Fuck. He forgot about the beats he was playing for someone earlier. Hopefully, it doesn’t ruin your mood before he can change it. “Sorry,” he mutters a bit embarrassed.

“No, this is fine.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s sensual,” you pant. His brows knit together in curiosity and he momentarily ceases his movements. “The bass complements your voice well, actually. Did you umm…?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“I like it.” The little moan behind those words has him standing at attention. In any second, he could blow his load.

“Yeah? What else do you like?...Tell me what gets your attention.”

There’s a pause. “Or would you rather me shut up?”

“The opposite. I wanna hear you…your voice. You sound hot,” you giggle and it’s one of the most soothing things he’s ever heard. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, sweetheart. You don’t sound bad either…Just hearing you laugh is making me hard.”

He hears a whimper; one of the sexiest, neediest whines to ever grace his ears. “Tell me what you just did. Don’t be shy.”

“I—”

You hesitate, so he steps in.

“Touching your pussy, huh?”

He senses through the phone how worked up he’s getting you. You’ve started panting and moaning out your words shamelessly.

“Mmhm, my clit.”

He chuckles and whispers of curses come through the phone.

“Do me a favor?” you agree and he continues. “Move a little lower and dip your fingers in your pussy. Tell me how wet it is.”

He uses his spit for lubrication and tightens his fist around his cock. He imagines it was your walls snuggled around him, pumping his length as you bounce up and down. Something inside of him believes that you’re pretty, with a nice ass too. A really nice ass, that’s what his fantasies project at least.

“Fuck. How many?” you ask him.

Damn. You’re obedient as well. That’s hot, really hot. 

“As many as your pretty cunt can take.”

When he hears a muffled cry, his bottom lips tucks between his teeth while he concentrates on the squelching sounds coming through the phone. You both move in sync with the music and allow it to take away the nervous jitters the both of you had previously. His cock starts twitching in his palm when your sweet little moans move through his ears.

“How many did you use, sweetheart?”

You answer him in a high-pitched voice. You’re close too, he can hear it. Your eyes are probably screwed shut, trying to keep it together to prolong the call, but he has to go before his bill skyrockets. He needs to get you off—quickly.

“Two. Three, now. I needed more.”

“Greedy, aren’t we?”

“No…I’m just really horny.”

He has to smile at that. “Yeah? Me too. This is good, but I'd rather be balls deep in you.”

“Fuck, I’d like it.”

Sweat beads on his forehead, but he just wipes it away with the back of his hand and keeps going. The music has changed to something more upbeat and he knows this is his shot for home plate.

“Really? Is that why you’re making a mess? I can hear it, you know...you’re so fucking wet.”

“Shit, I wanna come,” your words are barely recognizable and you just keep begging him for more, “please help me.”

“Fuck, sweetheart. Take your fingers out and rub your clit. Spread that sticky shit all over it and get yourself off.”

He throws his head back and curls his toes, bracing himself for the impact of his orgasm. This has to top he sexual encounters and he’s not even touching you. It’s just something about you that’s driving him insane. He doesn’t even know your name, but he doesn’t need to, not when all that matters now is the pleasure of this experience. 

“I’d lick it all up too, eat you out until you cry and forget your own fucking name. You want that, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, I wanna feel you so bad.”

“I know, baby. You’d let me take you anyway I’d like, wouldn’t you?...I could bend you over? Dick you down with your legs pinned by your head. I fuck you up, princess and you’d never want another.”

“Fuck, I’m gonna—”

Dead silence. 

“Are you kidding me? Fuck!”

The phone hangs up just as you both reach your climaxes. Disappointment is thick in the air as his quick strokes gradually begin to slow. He groans and curses angrily at the loss, and grips fistfuls of his hair in frustration. Out of all the people for this to happen to; it had to be him. Just when he thought his luck couldn’t get any worse, this happens and proves that life is just out to get him.

“Something’s gotta give, man. I can’t keep living like this.”

So, he shrugs off his needs and does what he does best—work. He puts on his headphones and hopes that one of these tracks will be the one that opens the door to all of his dreams.

Two years later…

“This is your boy Jay Millz, and you're listening to Q107.9. We got my man Suga in the motherfuckin’ building. This guy has the hottest track on the radio right now, bro. He’s gonna be chilling with us for a minute while we dip into the Rush Hour Mix with DJ Reign. Suga! How you doin’, man?...”

He nods and greets the guy behind the mic. They extend their arms for a brief handshake before he continues. “What’s good? Glad to be here, man.” 

Yoongi looks around the table and sighs. He’s tired of the same fucking questions. 

What’s next for you? How does it feel to be the hottest rapper out right now? Will you sign with SlaughterHouse Records?

As if he’d leave a crumb behind for the tabloids to fight over. Yoongi’s been careful; really careful. He’s worked hard to maintain a decent reputation; besides a few run-ins with the law. But overall, he’s avoided anything that could damage the image he’s created for his pseudo. 

Many have tried to tear him down, or trip him up. However, he knows how to handle those people, and that’s what he’s about to do when the woman across from him asks the question lingering on the tip of her tongue. He knows it’s coming; he can tell by the way her nails tap on the table. She waits for silence and then she goes for the kill.

“So…Suga, you know I have to ask.”

The other co host sighs with an exhausted eyeroll. “Bee, please don’t start.”

“I have to. The people wanna know,” she argues and Yoongi can feel his head starting to throb. 

It’s bad enough that he hates these things and they cannot stop themselves from trying to dabble in his personal life.

“Anyway, are you currently dating anyone, Suga? A fan? A girlfriend?...etc?”

Yoongi looks to his left and gives her a lazy smirk, just fucking with her mind a bit before he responds.

“Nahh, I’m good. Gotta stay focused, you feel me?”

He takes a sip from his cup and savors the cold liquor before he gulps it down, watching the poor girl slump her shoulders in defeat. However, he was a fool to think this was over.

“And what about Mu$ic Fairy?” the interviewer to his right asks.

“What about her?”

He sets down his cup and turns in the man’s direction.

“She dropped a new playlist last night. I know a lot of us would have gone to see about that by now.”

Yoongi scoffs out a laugh. “Well, I’m not a lot of us, am I?”

“Damn right,” Jay chimes in from across the table. He notices Bee shaking her head in the corner and he couldn’t agree with her more. This is ridiculous. 

This girl, “Mu$ic Fairy” or whatever she calls herself is nothing but a fucking distraction. No one can resist bringing her up when he’s in the room. There’s no fucking escape.

At first, it was cute. A few Spotify playlists dropped every once in a while with a rather risqué cover just to tease, but now it’s an entire movement. Some fans are even calling themselves fairies, and wearing themed attire to his performances. 

He fucking hates it. The wings, the glitter, the overly sweet tones in which they speak. Of course, he appreciates his fans and they’re fun to look at, but Yoongi’s a picky guy. And if that’s the kind of girl you are, then you aren’t his type.

“I would’ve probably hit her up after she dropped the Fre@kii Ho @nthem! playlist.” 

Jay bumps fists with the other guy host after he says that and they have a “same” moment.

Bee adds her input after it quiets down.

“Well, I’m going to have to agree with—”

“Do not…say her name around me,” Yoongi intervenes.

He can’t; not when he has a show tonight. Just hearing her name pisses him off. 

Another reason he hates doing interviews is because someone always has to mention…

“Oh, are you talking about that podcaster?...Damn, what’s her name…”

Jay struggles to remember while snapping his fingers, so Bee attempts to help him out. However, Yoongi cuts her off before she can speak of the devil.

“Don’t you dare.”

The woman once again backs down and carries on.

“Well anyway, I agree with you know who. She makes valid points about how none of these people were after him before he started making industry music. They don’t really fuck with the real Suga.”

Yoongi only nods his head because the annoying bitch behind that podcast is right. This Mu$ic Fairy chick started showing up when he became popular and so did her followers. But that’s about one of the only things he agrees with. Everything else is out of line. This woman doesn’t know anything about him, but yet always has an input to give when it comes to his music.

One of the interviewers notices his change in demeanor and senses the hatred he has for this chick. He steps in and changes the subject quickly.

“Shit, we’re almost out of time. That’s what happens when you’re chillin’ with one of the greatest to ever do it.”

Yoongi shakes his head. “Nahh, man. Don’t put that on me yet. Give me some time.”

“Many would have to disagree with you there, bro. Matter of fact, you should ask them. Why don’t you tell the listeners where you’re gonna be tonight?”

“Yuh, tonight you can catch me at the Varsity. Tickets sold out, but yeah…fuck with me.”

The interviewers briefly share a round of applause before Jay concludes.

“Alright. You heard him. Tickets sold out, but who knows ladies…he might just take you home for the after party, right bro?”

Yoongi can only press his lips in a straight line because anyone that knows him, knows that a piece of ass is the last thing on his mind right now, but for the sake of some poor girl’s imagination…

“Yeah, we’ll see.”

And because of this, he’s probably going to have to fight his way out of the club.

The rush Yoongi gets from being on stage always lingers in his veins even after the music stops. The crowd keeps the energy going and going. They scream his name, applaud his techniques, and praise his stage presence like he’s a king. He is, in a way. Suga is the king of this city; there isn’t a guy who doesn’t want to be him or a woman who doesn’t want to fuck him.

Typically, temptation is easy to resist since his career leaves him little time for extracurricular activities. However, sometimes he just can’t allow something to slip away. Not again.

“You killed it tonight, man.” 

Yoongi doesn’t even spare his manager a glance as he brushes past him. His train of vision is focused on that little black dress swaying through the crowd. If he takes his eyes off of you for a second, he knows he’ll lose you in the mass of people.

“Thanks, dude. I’ll talk to you in a bit.”

He doesn’t know what was said in response because he’s out of range within seconds. He’s a man on a mission, and he’s not even sure of why. 

You’re beautiful, there’s no denying that—and sexy. But something else about you is just luring him in, and he thinks he knows why. At least, that’s his excuse for following you outside of the club. 

It’s dangerous, of course, since anyone could be waiting to get him alone. But tonight he can’t let you just leave without a word. He’s done that too many times. You show up to show after show, stare him down as if he’s your last meal, then leave without even a wave or goodbye.

Yoongi’s had enough; this ends now.

“Hey!”

You immediately stop in your tracks at the sound of his voice. He wastes no time trying to eliminate the distance between you, but you dash down an adjacent alley before he can get close enough to talk to you. 

He follows you, and calls out to you one more time before you halt and finally respond to him.

“Hey there.” 

Your voice is so dulcet, but edgy…and familiar. Where has he heard it before? 

“Looking for me?” The closer he gets the more clearer the sound becomes and eventually it clicks. He knows exactly why he knows your voice.

But you aren’t the person he thought you were, and you’re the last person he wants to see.

“You’re that podcaster, aren’t you?” Yoongi questions, approaching you carefully. At least his mind still holds the common sense to be cautious. 

When you look over shoulder, it’s like his breath leaves his body. He’s seen his share of gorgeous women, but you are out of this world. There’s no way you could be her. But everything is telling him that you are.

“Depends…who wants to know?” 

Yoongi doesn’t know where to look first. Your face or the body that comes along with it. “You or the bitches who want to be like me?”

The moment he’s close enough to hear the cockiness oozing from your voice, he knows it’s you without a doubt. He can feel the same aura radiating from you now that he does whenever he listens to those podcasts. You’re her; he’s a hundred percent sure of it.

“So you’re bold behind the mic, but now you’re too pussy to look at me?”

You turn around on queue, adorning a wide smirk that he’d give anything to wipe off your gorgeous face. “Better?”

Yoongi nods slowly and takes a few steps towards you. With every step he takes you move backwards, allowing him to corner you and in the dimly lit alley. 

“It’s funny because with all the shit you talk on air, I didn’t take you to be a runner,” he points out.

“I don’t think you know me well enough to assume that, love.”

“But you know me well enough to critique my music?”

You hum. “I do, actually.”

“Really?” When your back nearly touches the brick wall, he leans in a little closer. You show no signs of uneasiness so he plants his palm on brick structure and hovers over your shorter frame. “What makes you believe that?”

“Because I’ve been a fan for a very long time. Ever since your underground days. You’ve never noticed me…but I was there.”

When he gives you a look, you roll your eyes. Of course, he doesn’t believe a word that pretty mouth of yours spits out.

“Your first real gig was on your birthday. You were a senior in high school and you invited your parents to the show. You looked around and when you finally saw them you smiled like a fucking dork.”

Damn. You read him like a book, but that doesn’t make up for the negativity spilled on your behalf.

“So you’ve been following me to shows so you can build up the repertoire for your little podcast? For how long?”

You shake your head in denial. 

“I followed you because you’ve always been my favorite artist. I admire you, and I’ve been around since the beginning. Even when nobody was fucking with your music…your real music. The kind you’re passionate about.”

Yoongi scoffs. “Like you would know anything about that.”

“But, I do. That’s why I’m so pissed at you. All you make is industry music now, and I’m just…bored, I guess.”

You’re cute when you shrug your shoulders, but your eyes are lethal. He feels like he’s being stripped bare under your gaze. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say you were silently flirting with him, but they’d be a reach.

“So find a hobby,” he suggests.

“I did find hobbies. The podcast, the playlists, the—”

“Wait,” Yoongi’s face contorts with confusion at those words, believing that he’s misheard you, “...you said playlists. What playlists?”

Your smirk returns and Yoongi suddenly feels his cock slowly rising in his underwear. Why do the heavens place the demons in the most beautiful women; he’ll never understand.

“You know which playlists I’m talking about, love…” your hand makes a move to touch his shoulder but he grabs your arm to prevent contact, “they were made for you.”

“Made for me? What does…”

Oh, damn.

“Are you…?”

“Well, it sure isn’t the whore in there dressed like Tinkerbell. You think I’d wear that shit?” Your laugh is so intoxicating; he almost cracks a smile just standing there watching you. “I don’t need all of that to grasp your attention. I never have.”

Yoongi shakes his head. All this time you were right under his nose. Two women he could never stand to mention are placed right in front of him, hiding behind a goddess. It’s pure comedy; his reaction to the news should have him pulling away from you and heading in the opposite direction.

But can admit that he judges a book by its cover; you aren’t what he thought you were. You’re different, interesting…someone he’d actually like to have underneath him in the opportunity ever presents itself. But he’s confused…why him? Why go through all the trouble if the music is all you care about? That whole Mu$ic Fairy concept has completely fucked with his mind. 

How does he go from having no interest to wanting to see what it’s all about? There has to be more to it; otherwise, it makes no sense. You two are strangers. 

He shouldn’t crave the warmth beneath his palm while his hand grips your forearm, but he does. The skin to skin contact should not arouse him so easily, but there’s no denying the bulge forming in his pants. Despite all of this, Yoongi keeps his composure the best he can; you’re too cocky for him to just slip up and expose himself.

“Out of all the times to fuck with me…” he pauses when your beautiful glossed lips part to blow the strawberry bubblegum you’ve been chewing. Your tongue darts out to pop and collect the medium-sized pink bubble, and he can feel his knees buckle when you suck it back in. 

He’s usually not this fond of people and gum, but the way you handle it, the way you slowly rolled it over your tongue in preparation was a fucking sinful, and he can’t get enough of watching you do it. 

“Why tonight?” he asks you.

You bat your thick lashes, probably knowing good and well what you’re doing to him. He knows you’re taunting him, silently asking for him to make a move, but he won’t. You’ll have to beg him for it.

“Because…I’m horny, and I’m tired of waiting for your clueless ass to figure this out.”

Yoongi scoffs. “Bullshit.” 

He looks down as your finger loops underneath one of his chains and tugs him closer, something he wouldn’t allow anyone to do, but somehow you already earned privileges. You don’t know how dangerous of a game you’re playing with him, but he silently prays you’ll get to find out. He’d give anything to bend over the hood of his car and—

“And, I think you owe me something,” you inform, placing your other hand on his shoulder once he slides his to your waist.

“What might that be, love?”

Your smirk widens as you hypnotize him with your brown orbs. He can smell your perfume and flavored gum even better from this proximity, and your scent makes him feel like he’s in some sort of blissful haze—intoxicated by the smell of you. It’s no secret that he wants you bad; he just can’t let you know that. Not until you tell him why you’re doing all of this.

“An orgasm.”

Everything grows quiet after you articulate those words. It only takes him a couple of seconds to remember, and when his mind processes it all, his brain nearly malfunctions as he tries to speak.

“You’re fucking with me,” he insists.

“You should know by now that I’m tired of the games, Yoongi.” His body shutters when you use his real name. Something he’d normally go off about, but he never wants you to stop saying it. He needs to hear you say it again; for an entirely different reason. “You can tell me to fuck off, if you want.”

He blinks a few times, not realizing he was just standing there and not saying anything.

“No, no. I’m just–wow…I never expected you to remember me.”

“Why wouldn’t I? It’s not everyday you’re matched with your favorite rapper on a sex hotline,” you wink and Yoongi’s mouth falls open.

“You knew it was me the whole time?...and you didn’t say anything?”

You nod. “Yeah, I did. Your voice, your demeanor; I knew from the start, but I played along because you obviously weren’t on the call to talk about mixtapes. I just wanted you to enjoy yourself, I guess.”

“This is fucking crazy.”

Yoongi’s speechless. That was kind, and you kept it a secret all this time. Suddenly, all of this seems kind of sexy. It’s a secret he could have been in on if only he had read between the lines. However, he knows now, and it’s still technically still a secret…if it stays between you and him.

Your lips are once again his main focus; he’s so close to living the fantasies he had of you all those nights he wondered about how you handled yourself after the phone call ended. Did you come? Or was your mood ruined like his? He sure hopes not, because you were incredible and if anyone deserved to finish, it should have been you. 

He was right about you too. You are sexy, and the longer he stands here with you, the harder it is for him to hold back on his urges. But hearing your needy voice breaks him entirely.

“How much longer am I going to have to wait for it, Yoongi?”

All regards for his reputation goes out the window. He looks towards both ends of the alley before he makes his move. Anyone could be watching, but once he feels your hands sliding up his body, he decides that that is no longer his concern.

“Come here.”

Yoongi grabs you by your throat, but doesn’t squeeze or choke you. He just wants you closer, and your eyes tell him you understand where he’s going from.

“I live 20 minutes away from here, think you can wait that long?”

“Do I have a choice?” you reply and that sass is what gets him riled up.

He doesn’t think twice about kissing your pillow soft lips. He’s been staring at them, wishing he could feel them, taste them, and now he is and he already can’t get enough. The level of sweetness on his taste buds is sinful, but it’s one addiction he’d never give up. 

His tongue enters your mouth without any resistance from you, and he eagerly explores its depths, getting familiar with the woman wrapped in his arms as if he has all the time in the world with you. Your moans sends vibrations through his throat when he lifts your leg, nuzzling his crotch against your heat. 

Yoongi would fuck you right now while he has you pinned against this wall but that just wouldn’t satisfy his thirst for you. You’ve been teasing him for too long for him to just rush this. It took two years to lead up to this moment, a quickie would never do it any justice.

“I need you to be on your best behavior until we get to my place,” he tells you through his slightly labored breaths.

“And if I don’t?”

His features harden. 

“Then you won’t get anything, now come on. Let’s dip before one of your friends sees me without security.” 

Or…before he changes his mind. He’s had plenty of bad ideas, but this tops the list.

Breathtaking.

It’s the only thing you can think about as your eyes scan over the sleek hood of the Lamborghini Gallardo. The man’s got some taste, you have to admit. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be taking you to his place. You like the fact that he’s picky, but always chooses correctly.

You drink in the sight before—Yoongi standing there in his stage outfit, complimenting his car. The vehicle’s custom, all white except for the tires and the heavily tinted windows. You could only quiver at the image of him driving it, and when it actually happens, your mind and your mouth start to go in different directions.

He asks you basic questions like your name and where you’re from; you can only hope you’ve given him the correct answers because you cannot break away from the visual of him gripping the wheel with one hand while he’s laid back in his seat. His jewelry glistens and shines even in the darkness of his car, but your eyes still fight through the nearly blinding twinkle so you can watch the man behind it all.

You’ve wanted him since you first saw him. He came to a pep rally at your high school and you fell in love with his music and his sound—his voice especially. Sure he was a cutie, still is. But he had so much hunger, so much passion for music that you felt him on a spiritual level. 

He did so well on his first performance, and you remember telling your friends how much you wanted to listen to his Soundcloud when the event was over. Of course, they laughed and thought he sucked because he didn’t fit their visual standards, but now…they probably wish they’d been a little more invested in him.

“Can you stop doing that and answer my question?” 

There it is again. That voice. It drives you crazy; when he said hello to you on that hotline, you knew without a doubt you were talking to your favorite rapper.

“Wha–Doing what?”

“Eye fucking me and biting your lip like that. Do you want me to pull over?” 

Well.

You open your mouth to speak but he interjects.

“Actually, never mind. Don’t even answer that. Certain things I don’t need in my head while I’m operating a vehicle.”

Your neck and face heat up. If only he knew that you aren’t as confident as you appear. He’s hot, but the fact that he doesn’t know it makes him hotter.

“Sorry,” you turn towards the window so you can smile. You don’t want to feed his ego. No matter how much he denies it, he’s cocky as hell. If he knows you’re gawking over him simply driving, he’ll run with it. “...What did you ask me?”

A slow exhale leaves his lips, like he’s slightly annoyed and you should be offended, but damn—it was kind of sexy.

“I just wanted to know what you do for a living. How can you afford to travel and come to shows all the time? ...I’m just curious.”

“Why? You think I’m selling my—”

“I wasn’t going to say that.”

“You were thinking it, and the answer is ‘no’. And no, I don’t have an OnlyFans either…probably should, though. I’d make bank,” you shrug.

“Look, I know you aren’t doing any of that. Honestly, you seem kind of selfish with the goods anyway, but…tell me how you keep up. That’s all I’m saying. Podcasts bring in that much money?”

“No they don’t, especially when you do them for free. I’m a writer. I write songs and I sell them to some of your favorite artists.”

Yoongi whistles. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Name a few.”

“This isn’t roll call, babe. If you wanna look up my credentials, you know my name now…Google me.”

“Oh, I will.”

“Fine,” you scoff.

When you look forward, you notice that you’re entering a gated community. Yoongi lets down his window and waves at the on-duty guard before the older man opens the automatic gate. 

After driving past many luxurious homes, Yoongi pulls into a driveway and uses a clicker to open the garage door. 

“We’re here,” he announces.

His home is lovely, and you’re in awe by the set up and interior design once you enter. You’re impressed, most guys don’t spend much thought on this level of organization. 

Yoongi leads you up the stairs and into his bedroom. You can feel the butterflies in your stomach fluttering more and more as you get closer to the top of the stairs. Your knees buckle slightly when he opens the door, but your eyes still look in every direction once you’ve made it inside.

It’s dark, but you can still make out the colors that fill the room. Blacks and grays with white walls. His bed is draped with a dark set; you can’t help but find it inviting. And it’s huge; you imagine he must be a wild sleeper because you couldn’t imagine sleeping in a bed that large alone.

“I love your home, Suga.”

He waves his hand. “Thanks, but you don’t have to call me that. You didn’t call me that earlier.”

“I didn’t?”

“Nope.” He shakes his head and tells you that you can make yourself comfortable while he disappears into his closet. When he returns with clothes, you tilt your head with curiosity. “I’m gonna go shower, don’t get too nosey while you’re in here by yourself.”

“You’re leaving me? Why can’t I join you?”

Yoongi’s eyes widen for a second and a hand runs through his hair while he ponders over his answer. “Because umm…”

You crane your neck trying to coax an answer but he still stammers.

“It’s…you know.”

You smile. He’s kind of adorable, in a way.

“Too intimate?”

“Exactly.”

Your head lolls back while you laugh and Yoongi huffs in annoyance as he makes his way to the bathroom. 

“What am I supposed to do while you’re in there?” you call out and he stops to turn around.

You watch him get ready to produce a smart remark. However, he pauses before he can get it out. He puts his clothes on the bed and walks over to the nightstand, turning on his laptop and grabbing some Bluetooth headphones from the drawer.

“Here,” he says, pairing them to his computer and then handing them to you. You take them before you look up at him, wondering where he’s going with this, but he’s quick to fill you in. “Listen to this, I won’t be long.”

Yoongi puts on some music and gives you a wink that makes your pussy clench. He leaves you sitting on his bed, headphones in hand without another word. 

For the first minute you stare at the object wondering what’s being played, but your curiosity takes over quickly and before you know it, they’re coming over your ears. You don’t regret it the second you hear his voice. 

The music begins to travel through the speakers, you become obsessed with it from the very first track. You love that it’s similar to his original sound, but it isn’t the same track over and over again. They’re all so different yet so him. You can hear and feel the amount of dedication and effort he put into it. Like it wasn’t done out of obligation, but because he wanted to do it for himself. You can’t help but get up and sway your hips to the music. 

You feel so connected to him through his work, and that’s why you go on and on about how you wish he’d make another mixtape because this shit is fire. You wonder how long he’s been hiding it from the world.

You aren’t expecting him to be sitting on the bed when you turn around. Your hand finds your chest and you lower the volume on the headset.

“How long have you been sitting there? You fucking scared me.”

He shrugs. “Long enough to know that I want that dress off of you.”

Your startled expression turns smug. “Oh, really?”

“Hell, yeah.”

“So…you want me to take it off?” You raise an eyebrow.

“What do you think?”

“I think you’re going to have to use your words with me if you want something.”

Yoongi’s arms fold at his chest; his white tee strains against his beefiness. You remember how his clothes used to swallow him, but now he’s filling them up quite nicely, if you may. Either way, he looks good. It’s just a natural trait he possesses.

“I mean either you can take it off or you can leave. Doesn’t matter to me,” he shrugs his shoulders.

If you weren’t horny just looking at him sitting there in his boxers, you’d call his bluff. But you’ve already picked up on his stubbornness and you know better than to try him. “Fine.”

You sigh as you drag down the straps of your dress, rolling your eyes when he tells you to slow down. You flip your hair and twirl your body as you wiggle the fabric down your hips, turning around in the opposite direction to give him a peek at your derriere. 

Looking over your shoulder, you notice how his face becomes etched with approval. You give yourself a silent applaud for selecting this piece. You’re sure your thong leaves nothing for his imagination. It also doesn’t help that you’re topless.

You stop torturing him and turn around so he can see the front.

“Damn,” is all he can say.

You take off your heels before walking towards him and his eyes never leave your breasts the entire journey, even once you’re standing between his legs, preparing to straddle his lap.

“I want you.” You tell him as if he doesn’t already know. 

Yoongi’s hands find your waist while you place your knees on the bed. As soon as you’re on his lap, you can feel his bulge threatening to burst out of his underwear. It’d be so simple to pull your panties aside and milk him for everything he has, but not tonight. He’s the one who owes you a good fucking.

“How badly?”

His lips find your skin and make their way to your tits, making you clutch onto his damp curly strands while he sucks and tugs on your sensitive nipples. Your hands tug his hair, and you force him to look at your face.

“Yoongi. You’re either going to fuck me or I’m going to fuck you. What’s it going to be—”

He scoops you up and drops you on the mattress, making you squeak in surprise. The dark gleam in his orbs has your thighs rubbing and your fists clinging onto the comforter. He's finally had enough, and hopefully he doesn’t hold back anymore.

“You asked for this,” he warns you and you almost giggle with glee. He pulls his shirt over his head and is about to toss it somewhere, but then he changes his mind. Yoongi looks at you for a moment, contemplating before he speaks. “You trust me, right?”

“Well, I came home with you even though you hate me, didn’t I?...Why do you ask?”

“So a lot or a little?”

You groan. 

He chuckles and you feel the butterflies once again. Yoongi turns the volume up on his laptop before holding up a thumb to ask if it is too loud. Honestly, you’re glad it tuned him out because though you understand that safety is first, there’s little you wouldn’t try when it comes to this man. You’ve been waiting as patiently as you could to experience this and you’re ready to get started.

You nod and his devilish smirk is the last thing you see before he throws his shirt over your head. Darkness fills your vision but it doesn’t bother you as long as his voice is filling your ears. His cold hands slide up your thighs and spread them, wasting no time in touching your slightly sodden underwear.

Gasps escape your lips when his finger presses gently on your clit, and you can only hope the sound isn’t too awkward since you cannot hear yourself. 

The bed dips so you assume he’s climbing on and you release a breath when you feel his lips hovering over your body. He leaves kisses between your breasts and he doesn’t stop until your lace panties prevent him from accessing any more skin.

Yoongi quickly slides them off, leaving lying on his bed completely naked. Everything from the moment when his tongue dips into your center is one feverish bliss. Your back arches, your toes curl, and your fingers entangle in his hair. The sounds you’re making are probably feral and of an obnoxious volume but Yoongi doesn’t bother to shush you or stop his sinful movements. 

He draws circles over your throbbing clit with his tongue, moving in the same motion as you do as you swivel your hips. This song has you in the mood to grind your pussy on his face, and that’s entirely his fault for coming up with such vulgar lyrics. It’s filthy and you feel the muscles in your stomach tightening by the seconds. You scream his name over and over but he just keeps going until you release the pressure built up inside of you.

The shirt is snatched off your face as you’re at your peak and what you see between your thighs only intensifies your orgasm. His face is buried in your heat, sucking your bundle of nerves into his mouth and nibbling gently while you squirm in his iron grip.

Yoongi kisses your inner thighs once you begin to calm down to help you relax. When you back slowly droop onto the bed is when he carefully removes the headphones, turning them off and then setting them on the nightstand next to his laptop.

“I would go back for seconds, but that would only make me want more,” he tells you. He opens the bottom drawer and pulls out some condoms then throws them on the bed.

“I don’t know if I’d survive that.”

“Well, you better say a prayer because we aren’t done,” he laughs and excitement bubbles inside of you.

Yoongi switches the music to something else and you can’t help but pout. 

You sigh. “I pray you aren’t all talk.”

He glares at you for your comment and steps closer to the bed. 

“You’re a sweet girl, but…” he flips you on your stomach and pulls you up by the waist, positioning you so that your ass and pussy are directly in his line of sight, “you need to watch how you fucking speak to me.”

A shriek leaves your lips when he slaps your ass. “Yoongi…please.”

“Please? You want me to stop?”

“No!” Your voice is high pitched and shaky, almost unrecognizable to your ears. “Don’t stop, please.”

Yoongi finds humor in your desperation. “Ask me nicely.”

“Fuck,” you whine but it’s the wrong answer. “Yoongi, please do it again.”

“No.”

Your breath hitches. “What?”

“I said no.”.

“Such a fucking asshole,” you mumble insults, thinking they’re too low for him to hear.

“What was that?”

You look behind you and notice Yoongi rolling a condom over his dick. You can’t tear your eyes away from the sight of those veiny hands stroking his cock slowly, preparing himself to dive into your wetness. You’ve always wondered what he looked like doing that, ever since that time on the phone.

“Nothing,” you lie.

He puts his knee on the bed and inches closer to you. You tease him by wiggling your ass a little but he places a hand on your hip to still you. “You know…”

You can feel his cock against your entrance and your body pushes back on him to try and get it inside of you yourself. However, your impatience makes you forget how petty the man behind you really is.

The tip slips past your folds and with the amount of arousal seeping from your opening, he’s able to slide in with ease. But it’s only a taste; the majority of his cock still remains outside of you, and quickly your frustration takes control of you.

“If you wanna meet an asshole…” he makes a loud gasp leave your lips when he, without warning, slams into your pussy in one smooth motion. You whimper; a harsh snatch of your hair makes you wince and grip the sheets. Your head is turned in an uncomfortable position, but the only thing you can focus on is the intensity of the stretch and the way his dick doesn’t leave any room to spare, “I could introduce you to one.”

Yoongi pushes your head forward and pins you to the mattress. Your teeth grit together because of your sensitivity. You could come just like this without him even moving. That’s how worked up you still are. You just need a moment to pull yourself together, but Yoongi doesn’t have the patience for that.

“Arch your fucking back.”

He pulls out but swiftly snaps back into you, causing you to let out a squeak. You try to cover your mouth but his large hand comes down on your ass before you can do so. Your moans turn into screams within minutes, increasing in volume each time Yoongi slaps your rear.

“I know you can do better than that. Straighten up before I do it for you,” he grunts through the lewd skin-slapping noises that fill the room.

You squeeze your eyes shut and arch your back like he demands. The position is only uncomfortable for a few seconds, but eventually it becomes familiar and the sensitivity ebbs away.

Yoongi lets go of your hair and starts rubbing his hands all over your ass, kneading the reddened flesh and giving it words of appreciation.

When you start to fuck him back he holds your waist and pulls you back on his cock. Your body begins to move naturally with the rhythm of the background music and he allows you to set the pace while he whispers obscene remarks.

“Look at you taking it just like a whore.” 

You can feel the arousal between your thighs, dripping and making a mess of the sheets. The squelching sounds are disgusting but don’t phase you in this heated moment. You have more important things to worry about. Like how long you’ll be able to keep this up. You weren’t expecting him to have this much stamina, but you’ve learned to never judge a book by the cover.

He’s strong, the grip he has on you is evidence to that. The way he’s handling you like you’re nothing but a fuck toy he can use at his discretion has you clenching around his dick. His deep chuckle fills the room when he feels your walls tighten.

“On your next podcast, you should tell them how I fucked your brains out to your own playlist,” he comments.

Yoongi’s thrusts have your knees trembling and nearly giving out, but he’s quick to assure that you keep up. “No fucking slacking, whore. Do better or I’ll pull out and use your throat instead.”

You’re sure your ass will be sore in the morning because Yoongi cannot keep his hands off of it. He strikes you every chance he gets and the stinging sensation from his blows push you closer and closer to your peak.

“Fuck. Yoongi…please.”

Tears roll down your cheek when his cock travels deeper, touching the spot that makes you unravel at the seams. It’s all too much and you beg him to allow you to surrender to the pleasure.

“Not yet. Shit, do you have any idea how juicy your ass looks like this?”

“But I can’t,” you sob into the comforter.

A slap to your left cheek leaves you a shaky mess. However, he shows you no mercy and does the same thing to the other side.

“That’s not an option. If you come, I swear—”

“Sorry…” Your muffled cries are the last thing you can recall before your body accidentally gives in.

Your juices leak onto the bed while you hold on for dear life, afraid you’ll float away if you let go of the fabric. But just as your orgasm reaches its peak, it’s ripped away from you  by one of the foulest humans on this planet.

“What the fuck did I tell you?” he growls as he drags you off the bed. Yoongi forces you to your knees, ignoring your pleas to regain what was stolen from you. He slaps your cheek a few times, snapping you back into reality and demanding your attention. “Answer me!”

“You…You told me not to come,” you hiccup.

His expression tells you how displeased he is, but it’s too bad that you don’t care. Something comes over you that has you sucking it up and wiping your tears. If he wants to play dirty, you can do it too.

“So why did you?...I never said that you could.”

You look up at him with innocent eyes. However, you have no intentions on being good anymore.

“Because it felt good and I wanted to,” you tell him and he grabs your face.

“You don’t get to decide what you want to do or what feels good. If you had the answers you wouldn’t have been begging for my dick for two years.”

Yoongi pulls off the condom and brings his cock to your mouth. You clench your fist to hold back the excitement when he tells you to open. You’ve craved the taste of him even though you’ve never had him. Your mouth waters as you wait for him to enter, and when he does, he doesn’t stop until reaches the back of your throat.

“Tap my thigh if you need air, and do not suck until I tell you to, understand?”

You mumble around him as best as you can. “Mmhm.”

Before you can prepare yourself for a pace you know will be relentless, Yoongi withdraws and slowly re-enters your crevice. Your eyes roll back from the fullness and addicting taste of him. You want more—need more to fulfill your desire.

Ignoring his instructions, you enclose your lips around him and begin to suck him in each time he tries to pull out. “Easy,” he warns but you keep going.

One of your hands comes up to fondle his balls and Yoongi’s deep moans begin to fill your ears. He throws his head back in pleasure while you give him, what you would consider, the best blowjob of his life. The sound he produces is the only music you want to hear. His voice holds so much lust and bass, arousal gushes from your cunt as a result.

“Fuck, I told you not to do that.”

You hum around him, sending vibrations up his shaft. The feeling brings him to his senses and he places both his hands on your head. You have to grab onto his thighs to keep yourself steady since he’s starting to take control. You try to maintain the suction but his wild movements make it impossible.

“You wanted to suck me off so badly. Keep it up,” he grunts, increasing his speed.

You choke on his dick and the sounds make him twitch in your mouth. Yoongi starts to intentionally go deeper, but he’s unsatisfied by the lack of space there is for him.

He pulls out of you, leaving you coughing and gasping at the sudden intake of air.

“Well, damn. Do I have to teach you how to suck dick too?”

Yoongi shakes his head as he looks down on you then uses his index and middle finger to open your mouth. He pushes the digits in and finds the back of your mouth with ease, pressing on the back of your tongue to make you open wider. “Stop being shy and open this pretty fucking mouth,” he demands, making you gag on his fingers.

Your eyes water and spit drips down your chin. You must look like a complete mess, but Yoongi cannot take his eyes off of you. 

“Now show me, and I’ll give you some more.”

You’re scolded before you can even wrap your lips around his fingers. 

“Stop being fucking lazy.” He gives your cheek a few more slaps before shoving his fingers deeper into your mouth. 

This time you slurp and allow your saliva to coat his digits. ”Fucking, right. Now open up and milk this dick.”

Yoongi removes his fingers and replaces them with his cock. This time you just open your mouth and let him in. He uses your head like a fleshlight and drills into you at a rapid speed. You try your best to keep eye contact and breath through your nose, but then out of nowhere he buries his cock down your throat.

There’s an intense burning in your airways due to lack of oxygen but it’s nothing you can’t handle. The rush takes you so high you become slightly lightheaded, sending a tingling sensation straight to your center. Nothing but music, the sound of you choking on his dick, and his sound of pleasure can be heard and the way he calls your name sends your ego through the roof.

“Shit, I’m gonna come. Stay just like this, sweetheart.”

Within five long thrusts, his warm seed deposits on your tastebuds. You try to swallow everything but he pulls out quickly and empties the rest on your lips and chin. Your tongue tries to gather as much as you can, but some places are impossible to reach. 

“Come here.” Yoongi pulls you from the floor and brings you closer, greeting you with a sloppy kiss once you’re on your feet. He laps up all the cum on your face and gathers it all on his tongue before he feeds it to you. You savor the taste of both of you as the kiss prolongs, and even after he pulls away you can’t help but remember how good he tasted.

If you had to guess which body part Yoongi favors the most, you’d say it was your lips. He can’t tear his eyes away from them. You bite them, he shudders. You lick them, his cock twitches. So you can’t control yourself when it comes to teasing him and pressing them against his soft skin.

“You must want another round if you keep that up,” he mentions as you make your way to his earlobe. You nibble on it gently before you whisper in his ear.

“I just wanna come one more time before you kick me out.”

“Who said I was kicking you out?”

“You aren’t?”

Yoongi ushers you to his bed and helps you lie down before he joins you. He hovers over you once again and his hand snakes between your thighs.

“I definitely am, but not right now. I’m not done with you,” he informs, fingers entering your heat while his thumb caresses your clit.

“Well, hurry up then.”

He frowns. “Do you ever shut up?”

“Yeah, whenever someone has the balls to make me shut up—”

“Interesting,” he states after his hand pins your neck to the mattress. “Let’s test that theory.”

Yoongi’s digits begin to move in and out of your wetness, producing more lewd noises and causing your body to shake with sensitivity.

“Yoongi.”

His name flows past your lips like water. It’s the only word you can think of at the moment. Having been worked up all this time with no relief makes you desperate to satisfy the lingering desire that’s settled in the pit of your stomach.

“Feels good, huh?”

It feels damn good. Your hips buck off the bed to match his movements so you can chase your high. “Yes…more.”

“More?”

His hand tightens its grip and restricts your air supply. He knows how close to the edge it takes you by now and he doesn’t hesitate to use it against you.

“Say please and I’ll make you come all over my fingers,” he chuckles, knowing you can’t respond like this.

You try to speak, but everything gets trapped in your throat. You can only claw at his chest, begging him to guide you to your release. He loosens his grip and through your coughs you manage to give him the answer he wants.

“Please. I can’t take it.”

Yoongi gives you a fake pout, squeezing your face between his fingers. “But you can…watch this.”

His fingers curl inside of you and you’re seeing stars. Your nails dig into his arm, body arching off the bed due to the intense wave of pleasure that hits you. You try to run, but he pins you down and forces you to accept the mind-blowing orgasm you were begging for.

“You talked a bunch of shit, now back it up, love,” Yoongi tells you while your walls clench around him. His hand covers your mouth, preventing your screams from waking up the neighbors as if it isn’t already too late for that. “Let’s see if this cunt’s worth the headache.”

The coil snaps and your body stiffens. Yoongi’s deep voice continues to degrade you as your juices squirt all over his bed. Even though you cry out from the sensitivity he fucks you until the last drop. Your body just falls on the bed once he’s done with you, and you move into a fetal position when he carefully slides out his fingers.

The aftershock of your release has you twitching, but the bliss you feel is superior. This is what it feels like to get fucked out, and you knew he would be the person to deliver. Satisfied would be an understatement because you weren’t expecting to be stuck like this after you were done. Usually, you’re able to get up and go before they can return from the bathroom, but tonight you can only lay there in silence while Yoongi cleans you up with a warm cloth.

“I didn’t break you, huh?”

“The opposite, actually,” you laugh weakly.

“Good.” He lays his body beside you and wraps his arm around your waist, enjoying the familiar beat that plays into the dark room. It’s your phone sex song; the beat he played to help you relax. “Remember this?”

“Yeah, how can I forget?”

“You keep saying that like I’m always on your mind.”

“Maybe you are,” you reply.

A soft scoff comes from behind you. “I hope you’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

There’s silence, then eventually a long sigh. 

“I want you gone before I wake up, okay?”

You shake your head. Not in disbelief because it’s what you expected, but because he can’t read between the lines. But you aren’t naïve and you know when someone wants you just as bad as you want them. So for now, you’ll be patient.

“Fair enough,” you answer.

Satisfied, he rolls over and drifts off into sleep, leaving you awake to wallow in your thoughts. It seemed best to just get up and leave then, but it takes nearly an hour to regain your strength. And just when you think it’s safe for you to slip away and consider this night one of the good memories, the warmth you felt before returns and pulls you closer—it is then that your eyes become heavy and you submit to the comfort you know you aren’t supposed to have.

When Yoongi wakes up and finds a cold empty bed, he can only throw his head back in frustration. He hopes…no, he prays he didn’t say anything to make you feel like he wasn’t interested. He knows he can be a dick, but he was just pissed and horny last night. You’re not easy to handle, but he likes that about you. You aren’t afraid to put him in his place.

He rolls out of bed and the first thing he notices is that his laptop is still playing music, so he makes turning it off his first task. However, once he enters the password, he finds an opened document with a typed note in the center of the page.

If you ever think of me, just call...If you want?

Yoongi’s speechless, and out of his damn mind. That’s the only excuse he has for picking up his phone and calling the number you left at 9 am in the damn morning. The longer the phone rings, the more regret fills him. He can’t help but think you left that there to tease him for calling you so quickly. He tries to hang up but before he can remove the phone from his ear the ringing stops and your beautiful voice blesses him once again.

“Hello?”

He panics, and doesn’t respond. He searches the room frantically and finds his excuse lying on the floor right in front of him.

“Yeah, you left your earring. Looks expensive,” he murmurs before he clears his throat.

“Oh, I’m wearing both of mine now. Must be for someone else.”

Embarrassment washes over him as he stands there naked in his bedroom. How could he be so stupid? That thing’s probably months old, if not longer. He wonders if you saw it. Maybe that’s why you left.

“I’m kidding, Yoongi. If it’s a gold hoop, it’s mine,” you laugh and he feels a weight left from his shoulders. 

The idea of you finding stuff that belongs to other women in his home doesn’t put a good feeling in his chest. He also doesn’t want you to think of him as someone who lets anyone in his home because he’s not that kind of guy. 

“Haha, you’re so funny,” he says once your giggles cease. 

“And you’re sarcastic.”

Still sharp as hell. He thinks to himself.

“Whatever.” He takes a seat on his bed and rests his back against the headboard while he checks emails on his laptop and uses small talk to melt away the awkwardness. “So…you left in a hurry, huh?”

Smooth.

“You told me you wanted me gone before you woke up, remember?”

Of course, he did. Because he’s an idiot.

“Yeah, I was just fucking with you, though. I would have given you a ride or something, you know.”

“No worries. I made it to my hotel room safely,” you assure and he releases a sigh of relief. 

“Well, that’s good. Glad to hear that.”

“Mmhm, miss me already, huh?...too bad you kicked me out.”

“Honestly, I thought I was gonna wake up to some tits in my face, but that’s fair.”

There’s some shuffling in the background like you’re moving something, but he doesn’t ask any questions about it.

“Can you remember anything from last night?” you ask him after a beat of silence.

His fingers run through his hair as he thinks about all the filthy images replaying in his mind.

“Well yeah, I remember you, of course. You were fucking incredible. But everything after that moment was a blur. Please don’t tell me I did something stupid.”

“No, you’re good. I had fun.”

So did he. He wishes it’d happen again, and again. “And you’re okay too, right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. My ass is sore and I can barely sit down, but I feel good. Thanks for that.”

Thank heavens you are. He knows how rough he was and most women aren’t into that but you took it and enjoyed it. You were fun to play with, and now his cock twitches at the thought of what your ass must look like now, covered in his marks.

“What about you?”

“I’m fine, love. Bummed about having to work, but I’m good,” he responds.

“Well, I’m glad you’re okay. And I’m sorry I kept you up when you have to work this morning.”

“Don’t apologize for that. I enjoyed your company, and…”

He almost told you that he missed you, but caught himself at the last minute.

“And what?”

“Uhh, nothing,” he gulps. “I was reading something…Forgot what I was going to say.”

“O’kay.”

Yoongi can tell by the sound of your voice that you don’t buy it.

“Yup,” is all he can say in response.

After a minute or two of both of you just holding the phone, you finally say something to keep the conversation going. “Yoongi?”

“Hm…”

“Are you busy right now or…?”

He places his laptop beside him because he can assure that whatever he has to do isn’t as important as this.

“No, what’s up?”

“Well, it’s about last night,” you admit.

Now, he’s kind of nervous. What else happened while he was in his post orgasmic bliss.

“Yeah, what about it?”

Yoongi stays on the line waiting patiently for your answer, and it’s one he doesn’t expect.

“Well, you still owe me, you know?”

Interesting.

“And what do you mean by that?” he questions.

“Well…”

Yoongi already knows where this is going and luckily he knows exactly how to handle this situation. “Not satisfied, are you, baby?”

“No, I am. But…”

He chuckles. “You want some more?”

“If it isn't too much trouble. And if you have time, of course.”

You’re as sly as a fox and you know how to get what you want. It’s hot, but he’s going to have to humble you before he does anything else.

“No trouble at all, baby. Do me a favor, and spread your legs for me.”

“Okay.”

He hears some more movement and then you return, prepared to do anything he tells you in the hopes of pleasuring yourself. You tell him once you’re ready and he provides you with more instructions, in which you follow without question.

“Now, facetime me and place the phone between your thighs so I can see your pretty pussy.”

Within a second, his phone notifies him of an incoming facetime call. He answers it and finds you sitting in your hotel room. You’re wearing a large shirt but he can still see the fresh blooms from where he took your skin between his teeth the night before creeping up your neck. He can’t stop the smirk from spreading across his face.

He curses when he sees your cunt, all glistening and wet with your juices. His mouth waters but he pushes his filthy thoughts in the back of his mind.

“This is what you’re going to do,” he starts, watching in awe as strings of arousal snap while you’re scissoring yourself in his presence, “...you’re going to imagine me fucking your brains out and you’re gonna use that image to get yourself off…without me.”

“Yoongi—”

He tsks. “I’m not your man, and making you come is not my job, baby.”

“But…”

If he gave a fuck, he’d break hearing how desperate and needy your voice sounds, but you need to understand that he isn’t going to come every time you call for him. He’s a busy man and he doesn’t need distractions.

“But nothing…Now, bye. Have fun.”

He hangs up just as you start to curse at him and yell into the phone. But he knows this isn’t over; you’re probably getting a ride over to his place right now, and that’s exactly what he wanted. 

You were able to just walk out of here this morning without even waking him. That doesn’t sit right with him, and there’s only one solution for it really—

He’s just going to have to fuck you harder during round two…

And maybe, just maybe…get to know you a little bit after.

We’ll see.

[starsscribble]

Little Thing

Fandom: COD Characters: Ghost A/N: There is no real plot. It’s basically cute one off scenarios that came to mind. 

You had been working for two days on no sleep trying to crack the encryption on the laptop Gaz had recovered. Price kept breathing down your neck, and you were beating yourself up. It was hell all around. Groaning as you found a way past one wall only to hit another you slummed in your chair. “I’d kill for some caffeine right now.” You said to no one, or so you thought. Ghost had been passing by when he heard your request. If he had anything to do it was put on hold as he pivoted towards the kitchen.

Only when he had a hot drink in his hand did he make his presence known when entering your area; you didn’t notice. You were about to rip out more hair when a mug came into view held by a gloved hand. “Appreciate the thought. But I don’t drink-” “It’s tea love. No coffee.” He cut you off as he pulled up a spare chair to your desk. “Take some time to destress.” He half ordered sliding the hot drink closer towards you. He watched as you picked it up, carefully taking a sip of the tea and melted. At that moment it was just what you needed.

Ghost watches and listens as some hot shot talks at you; not with you at you. About how if you need help with throwing knives he was your man. You smiled at him in that sugary sweet way that told anyone close to you, how much you wanted to gut him. You nodded at his words and gave short and curt, “Mhm.” Letting him know that even though you hate this hold interaction you were still listening. But Ghost also notices your hand sliding out one of your throwing knives. He bumps Soap’s shoulder pointing it out to the man. “You don’t think she’s gonna kill him? Do you Lt.?” The worried man shot his superior a glance who simply shrugged. They both know if you did kill this poor man they would cover it up for you. You don’t kill the hotshot thought. As he is still talking himself up you glance only once toward the target and back toward him. Turning back to face him that sugary sweet smile still on your lips you throw the knife. The target beeps, pulling everyone's attention toward it. Your knife stuck straight in the dumb’s throat. Gently patting the man on the shoulder you sweetly say. “I think I’m good honey.” Ghost can’t help but watch as you walk away from the slack jaw man; his big grin hidden under the mask.

The intel they worked so hard for; had taken down a whole compound for was taken by Laswell. Everyone in the 141 knows she was just doing her job. But it was still a kick in the teeth. Watching the helicopter fly off the once joyous members were at a loss. They were back to square one. “So,” you started. “Is now a good time to say I made a copy?” All heads turn towards you. They are trying to see if you are joking; not that you would. But still, maybe you were trying to lift the mood in a not-so-great way. Yet you pull out a second USB from your breast pocket and their eyes widen. “You did not!” Gaz exclaims in total shock that you not only copied the intel but that you had the time to do so. “How on earth?” Price started as you give him a cheeky smile. “Know what you keep your secrets. Just glad you're on our side.” “Techie, I could kiss you right now,” Ghost said his smile hidden from the group as your cunning had saved the mission they work so hard on. “Now that’s a reward I would like.” You hummed, throwing the USB to Price. The captain caught it with ease and a grin.

It was late when Ghost returned from his mission. Everyone in the base was asleep, or so he thought. Passing the kitchen he saw you, dressed in an oversized cardigan and shorts. You were humming to music he couldn’t hear as you worked away with something on the stove. You turned to get something from the fridge when you saw him. Still in full gear, the scent of death lingering like it also did after a mission. You smiled at him as you pulled a wireless earbud out to speak with him.

“Heard you were coming back. Figured you would like a hot meal.” His heart melted, normally he would just rest in his room not even thinking about food. Yet he walked farther into the kitchen to get what you made for him. He waited quietly as you finished cooking and made him a bowl. It was a simple pasta dish, garden rotini with alfredo, bell peppers, and chicken nuggets. “This is one of my comfort meals. Hope you don’t mind.” You threw out cleaning up your mess from his meal. “It’s perfect.” He says after the first bit. No, it wasn’t a five-star meal; it was better because it was made by you.

Their last mission had been a rough one. So much so it didn’t take much to get Ghost to agree to join the group at the bar. People easily split into pairs. Price was off talking with Laswell, Soap challenged Gaz to pool, and you just didn’t move from your spot at the table nor did he. Both were far too sore from the mission to enjoy the activities the bar offered. It was nice to just talk with you outside of work. With each story you shared about yourself; he even found himself smiling more under his mask. “Alright,” you gently slapped the table before scooting out of the booth. “I’m getting myself another drink. Be right back because you owe me some Ghosty stories.” He chuckled and nodded before taking another sip of his beer. His eyes followed you with ease as you slipped through the crowd. He knew you could take care of yourself but in a crowded place like this, you needed someone watching your back. As you got to the bar waiting patiently for the server to get to you, Ghost noticed a man working his way towards you. He watched as this man came to stand next to you. He began talking and you engaged in patient conversation. However when he saw the man drape an arm over your injured shoulder making you flinch; he stood. You were far too nice to civilians. You wouldn’t push him away like you would the recruits. You would grin and bear it, something Ghost hated. “Tech,” he called out as soon as he was close enough to the bar to be heard. You and the man beside you turned. Your eyes lit up when you saw him and his heart raced more. “I’m heading out. Are you coming?” “Ya,” you flagged the bartender down to get your card back. You were thankful you hadn’t placed another order yet. Once your card was back in hand you slipped out from the other man’s arm and over towards Ghost. “Thank you.” You said once you were far away from the bar. “It was nothing, love.” He replied as you both slipped into the cool night air.

[crying-fantasies]

Rejection

"You have them on?"

"I do, I swear I have them, I just need to get this off-"

"Look me in the optics when you say that, you won't touch anything if your little freaky organic servos-!"

"I do, I do! Just, please, stop moving like that!", pleas are laced with desperation and righteous fury, one he wants to shred from your little mouth, but there is this tremor on his open armor that goes from helm to pedes when your little fingers wrapped in synthetic gloves roam on his bare protoform to take out shattered bullets, the sensation is ripping him apart between launching you out of the window and away from him or just stay still as Sideswipe looks at you both while grinning like a complete fragger or, worse, stay still and shut up before Ratchet finally snaps that wrench on his servo against his helm.

Mech, please no is what his new conscience pleads too and so he has to follow, be stiff and feel how your fingers move, shaking, finally being fast and sharp when Ratchet says your name like a stern mentor and pulling sharp fragments with the help of a little steel gadget.

He can't think of it, being totally honest it would be more like he isn't the one thinking of it but his brother, who looks with barely contained interest how you work, it's embarrassing how Sideswipe doesn't even try to cover the interest he has for you over Sunstreaker's open arm and moving like a new medic and is also dragging him in feeling the same, it's worse than his brother, since he can feel your absurd weight over him like a constant pang on the back of his processor, it's degrading, since Ratchet seem to know what is going on and can only look more tired than he already is and Sunstreaker's situation is getting worse because the last he needs is to have Ratchet asking what is going on!

But for Sideswipe things were getting back to normal, somehow.

"Hey there, Sunny! Here comes our team's best player!", Sideswipe has taken to hold you as if you were some kind of small animal or a stuffed one before letting you rest next to Sunstreaker, who frowned at you with all the fury on his massive body before directing it to his brother.

"Sides, I swear-"

"No, no, doc's order", he put you nearer to the yellow bot with a grin so wide, you wanted to throw your shoe to him, Ratchet isn't anywhere in sight but his mere name is the only thing keeping the brothers from destroying each other, "you shouldn't move, so our favorite human is here to help you rise to health again".

"Which piece of scrap metal said that?", When he gets better he will rip their arms from their frames.

"I don't know, everyone?", and obviously Sideswipe gets to ridicule him even more while pushing you nearer to his side.

You wanted to hide and escape, Sunstreaker wanted to punch his brother in the face.

But repetition makes everything fall to some routine, you're ready with your backpack full of books, homework and your reliable laptop when Sideswipe comes to pick you up and back to Sunstreaker resting body, the fear has lessened but is still very much alive, for now your best choice to avoid touching him directly is using blankets, but Sunstreaker is a high-end bot and your wallet is still bleeding from purchasing an obnoxious yellow cashmere blanket and another one of vicuna, which is made from an animal in verge of extinction just to know how expensive that one was too, that has taken most of your savings only to please him, he didn't even say thanks, just looked at it once before giving his approval with a nod, he didn't even talk or looked at you, always treating you like a nuisance he tolerated to please Sideswipe.

Before you should've looked at Sideswipe for help, but he beamed when you dragged the expensive and eye hurting piece of fabric on a big and equally eye-catching expensive bag and presented you with it to his brother and even into a zipper bag.

They were both in this, or more like Sideswipe was dragging Sunstreaker in the whole mess, like when you first meet them, and that was hell; at least the vicuna one was nice, just what you need to roll into in order to escape from any stress around.

Just like having someone, not bot, calling out your name in the Ark.

Most of the time you're next to Sideswipe, Sunstreaker too in recent days, and while it is understandable to say you should be more familiar with the other humans there has never been a real occasion to get to know them better since they apparently know one another way before your arrival.

So imagine the surprise when Hunter starts to make little conversation with you, starts to eat with you and even gives you sandwiches from who knows where because he is under extreme care after what happened the last time and totally banned from being out of the Ark like Jimmy and Verity, and everything is new because you're interacting with humans near your age range, you really are and that part of your brain which is a sociable creature is producing chemical happiness only by being in a group that recognizes your existence after so long.

It's good, fantastic, really, and you tell Sideswipe so after stopping him from picking you up one day to stay more time with the others.

You still ask to yourself if some word was rude or... Not exactly sure how to explain why he looked so down, nor why you tell Hunter no in the end and go back to Sides who is absentmindedly on his habsuit but almost jumps out of his oversized bed to greet you before asking for a favor.

Far from their shared habsuit, Sunstreaker is doing something that makes one of the most stupid but important things he has been getting ready for, moving as he can while most of his wounds are now repaired, his pride damaged beyond repair when he feels the movement on the door, there isn't much to expect when he already knows who it is, the human, well, no longer only human, Hunter, is standing just there, a bag full of the supposed essentials on his shoulder, Sunstreaker can't say anything, can't scoff at his organic nature's features that need aid of such mundane things nor can he make a joke about it.

Because he is very much headless with Hunter walking to him, is the middle of the night cycle and no one knows what they are going to do, the deal they have done.

Sunstreaker can't and will not leave his head to human supposed scientists to play with, Hunter wants to stop hearing him and, even if he denies it both ways, he feels bad for the mech.

"It was about time", Sunstreaker gets down the medbay berth room as fast and coordinate as he can in his state, is little more easy when he uses the bond to look through Hunter's eyes, guiding him in some way even if he is going to deny it later.

Hunter, already familiar with his attitude, can only sigh and get near to the mech's pedes, "sorry, I tried to say goodbye to some of the guys", well, he at least did to most of them, Jimmy and Verity seem to have catched onto something rare happening and maybe he didn't have to do it, seems that Sunstreaker hasn't even talked with his own twin about this, as for you, he only got to say bye hurriedly because you were fast to go with Sideswipe.

The thoughts pop up and it's normal, but he is already feeling the slow movement of Sunstreaker's body, if he had his head on, it would have been the same as if the guy was about to stomp on him, "If you're gonna court Side's pet do it when we get back, better to check that one out fast" he is talking alone, again, while moving around the room and expecting the next movement of the human.

Hunter's voice is sincere, like always, it's strange, because their voices are starting to sound the same and is reaching the point of it to be unnerving, to both of them, "You get that I wasn't the one initiating it or that I can't exactly stop it, right?", The mere idea makes him remember some of the most crazy and high daze induced alien movies he has ever seen on his life, of course most alien movies don't even make full sense of reason, but now that the he is a part of the real deal-

"What does that mean?" His tone is dangerous in everyway, but Hunter has learned to round those up and return back with a response, long gone are the days in where he cowardly shut his mouth against Sunstreaker.

"Means what it means, dude", he changes, his body does now, and he has a new view when Sunstreaker links them both, looking whole again in one of the windows that reflects them, Sunstreaker loves himself more than anything, but Hunter can't stop the disgusted expression in the glass and looks back at him.

"Means what you can tolerate now, I guess", there is just so much they can take from one another, or how much they can tolerate, being Hunter the holder of the almost never ending peace if it's needed, keeping Sunstreaker down, or at least to listen, is hard as it is, so imagine his surprise to the internal notifications popping in front of him when he notices you are also there, the body almost jumping backwards in order to stop any collision, looking like you just saw a ghost, a nightmare, and they don't need to ask about it.

You just saw Hunter became Sunstreaker's helm, but you can't let that show, there is only one certainty, this bot is Sunstreaker, maybe, he is looking at you with hardly covered disgust as always, but Hunter knows best and he can see every alert of their shared HUD telling him to avoid confrontation after a second passing notification gave the protocol of auto preservation to knock you out int that moment.

No matter how much Sunstreaker denies it or how much this seem surreal for Hunter, the mech cares for you, way too much.

"Sides-", you change your words, looking around, the yellow blanket that Sunstreaker likes so much on the zipper bag as always and it makes him stop on his steps, "Sideswipe told me to have a sleepover with you".

Of course the little fragger did, it doesn't seem out of sense, "Listen to me, human, I-".

"No, you listen to me", well, that's new, all this time you have cowered away, kept your mouth tightly shut and you head low everytime he said something, apparently now you're growing some courage, Sunstreaker isn't sure if he hates it or if he likes it he likes it, he likes it a lot, "Whatever is happening I don't really want to know, but", it seems like what you want to say is being held back by some kind of restraint, but you force it out when Sunstreaker is about to leave, "but please think of Sideswipe", your voice is a mere whisper, not even Red Alert would have heard it, to that much all the courage in your body sums up at it seems, and while Hunter feels bad for you Sunstreaker doesn't show the same sympathy.

"This doesn't have anything to do with Sides or you", his resolution is final, even when Hunter tries to negotiate the situation, but it's wasted time, you aren't even near the alert bottom, there is no way you can say to anybot that he is out of the medical bay or on his way to who knows where.

Still, the fire ignited on you doesn't stop, it keeps growing, "That spark isn't only yours", he is having enough of this, you acting all though, exventing, tired, and practically leaving you to whisper like a mad thing alone in your own chatting, "it's also Sideswipe's, he may say he is good alone but he needs you, you need him-", he makes a sound with his vents, like a scoff, and while Hunter can't believe Sunstreaker is really going to leave you there, embarrassed, in the verge of tears, the raise in volume do get their attention, both stop dead on their way when you really had enough, "you weren't here!", as if your daring didn't know any limits now you did shout, and Sunstreaker is almost sure at least one bot may have heard you, while he looks at the still empty corridors, "you weren't here, you didn't see him almost going into whatever equivalent you have of alien depression! You weren't here and now you must be because Sideswipe-!"

"This doesn't have anything to do with Sideswipe, this is my thing, my business and my personal matters so give me a break and go back to whatever cave you came from", he hissed back, low but the threatening of his words is still there, it doesn't stop you, there is a crazy tint on your eyes while you point a finger at him.

"You, you, you, it's always about you!", now you're full on screaming, almost shrieking, a limit being finally broken, "I don't care about you!", Hunter has to shut up before saying anything, because your words seem to have been a low blow, hate permeating all your words, "I never cared for you, I care for my friends! I care for Sides! And you are the fucking shit that comes along with him, I don't care what you do or if you go die, I would be happy if you did it alone but I don't want to lose Sides because of you!", as if your words didn't stung enough you throw the blanket to the floor and it makes the expression of the mech to darken even more by an strange feeling, "leave Hunter behind, leave your spark behind!"

For a moment it seems like Sunstreaker is trying to reach out to you, maybe to kill you by your bravery, you would expect something like that from him, either way the autobots are coming, you made as much noise as possible and your throat is raw by it, but if they can stop whatever madness he is trying to do then so be it, but, far from touching you he goes for the blanket, the stupid, obnoxious blanket.

A vain mech, even when you're insulting him, the almost hurt expression he has doesn't even matter to you now.

There is no much to expect, you can already hear the autobots come and so he does, looking at you in a way that makes you shudder, scared of him, Sunstreaker doesn't have time for this and changes to alt mode.

You don't know nothing, he want to tell you, he really does, shout it to your face, but he really can't think of it when someone else is hearing his thoughts.

There is deafening silence, partially, only the sound of his tires can be heard and is all he wants to hear, he can also see- sense what he is feeling, and Hunter feels bad for him.

"Sunstreaker-"

"Don't-", his voice is hard, low yet powerful in a way he hadn't heard so far, "don't you dare say anything, I don't need it".

He says so, and Hunter prefers to not say a word about it, don't even mentionthe now shredded yellow blanket by his transformation seams on his back seat.

[karkatbug]

🦀🕶️🫂

A tight, hot sensation works its way along Dave’s arms and sits at the pads of his fingers, which he taps restlessly against the cool, waxed wood table of their local coffee shop. He continues the motion despite his classmate’s evident irritation, hoping the contact would somehow encourage the feeling to pass through his fingers and onto the table via osmosis. It’s a familiar tension after enduring copious amounts of stress. Assignments, exams, working part-time. His social life, hobbies and habits. College had a knack for narrowing time and forcing life into a bottleneck. If you’re lucky enough to come out the other side alive, you’re left an exhausted shell of yourself, stiffly trying to relax your shoulders and convincing yourself that’s all you need and are totally fine now. Booking a back massage was pussy shit. No way in hell was he ever gonna let some man rub oil on him and get all touchy feely with his nude bod, no the fuck thanks.

Not to mention things were good. He’s quite literally in a better place. There was no reason to be rigid with stress now when he wasn’t going through anything like back then. Sadly logic did little to work out the knots in his shoulders. 

“Mind over matter my ass,” Dave mumbles to himself.

“What’s with you?” Karkat demands. “You’ve been fidgeting all fucking day. All week, actually! Usually I let your human quirks slide but at this point I’m starting to get worried.”

Dave winces at the other’s raised voice.

“I’m fine, dude,” he says quietly, hoping to lead Karkat by example. “Finish your thingy.”

“Our thingy,” Karkat corrects. Dave huffs and glances back down at his laptop screen. A word document is open, and Karkat’s cursor flashes where he stopped typing. “And I’m not writing another word until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong, man.” Dave forces himself back into his quiet facade—fixing his calm along with his posture. They work some more. He grits his teeth when a leg begins to bounce. God how he’d love to crawl out of his skin right now. Instead, he sits up straight, grabs the side of the table and twists one way, repeating the motion as he does the other. His back pops both times. He lets out a satisfied sigh. 

It’s still not enough. 

“That’s the third time you’ve done that,” Karkat notes. His eyes are fiery despite the lack of red. Dave is one of the few who know about his blood color. He knows they’ll kick in a few years from now, and yet sometimes Dave can feel the color on him. Or maybe he’s projecting. It is his favorite, after all. The color. Not the troll.

Karkat pushes the screen of his laptop down as he points an accusatory finger at the restless human sitting across from him. “You’ve also rubbed your neck twenty seven separate occasions in this past hour. You’ve kicked me in the shin twelve times trying to stretch those freakishly long appendages you call legs. I’ve heard your back pop more times than Egbert’s fucking “grandma” and I lived with them for an entire year!”

“Why did you put quotations around grandma?”

“My point is what the fuck is happening to you? Are you about to molt? You’re acting like your frail skin is about to rip open.”

“Your inexplicable obsession with me is duly noted, and flattered as I may be that you watch me like a hawk—sorry, a talonscreecher— you can park those observations back at the Target parking lot you were at just this morning along with that awful thing on your wrist that you bought from there.”

Karkat tugs his long sleeve over his wristwatch with a scowl and flips Dave off.

“I usually exercise,” Dave explains, figuring he was one more digression away from Karkat finally deciding to kick him back for all the times earlier, most of which were definitely intentional points of contact on his end. “And I haven’t been able to for almost two weeks now because of—” he gestures to his laptop, the cafe they’re in and the campus visible outside the window they’re sitting by. “Our muscles get stiff and shit if we don’t move. It’s kind of unbearable for me.”

“Well, go! Go run a lap and come back!”

“What did we say about asking people to fulfill your furry kinks? I know our recently established friendship is cool and all but I’m not moirailling with you, dude. Next thing I know you’re going to ask me to get on my knees and bark—” Dave sucks in his breath and clenches his teeth, fighting the instinct to yelp following the sharp pain in his shin.

“Fuck off, Strider! Suffer in that meatsack for all I care.”

“I jog at ass in the morning or in the middle of the night, there is no in between.”

“Those are our peak cram hours.”

“I know! That's why I haven't been able to go!” Dave exclaims. “I hate feeling watched while I workout.” That’s not incriminating to admit, right? Most people hate the gym for the very same reason. There’s no way Karkat’s tragic-past detector would go off.

“‘Cause of your Bro?”

Dammit.

“No,” Dave utters stubbornly while raising his knee for easier access to rub his throbbing leg. “Can’t a guy be a little self-conscious when asked to run around his school in tight jeans and a baggy hoodie at peak hours? Can’t a troll accept that nothing will fix me right now besides getting on my stomach, spreading my legs and praying some forklift certified fuck accidentally gets in a steamroller and runs me over?”

“Jesus, Dave. If it’s that bad… just let me sit on you!”

Dave’s mind is pulled in so many different directions that for once in his life, he’s at a loss for words. The imagery, one he’ll never admit to having, even if burnt at the stake, takes hold. It’s so vivid in his mind that he closes his laptop with an abrupt snap and shoves it into his backpack.

“I think we’re done here.”

“Humans do it all the time!” Karkat continues. “You lie on the couch and your friend sits on your back, right? John and Jade fucked with me like this all the time but they’d make me do it back. They said it feels good.”

“You have got to remember that those two are outliers when it comes to what is considered ‘normal’ by human standards.”

“Right, because you’re a sensible being and should be considered the standard life form for your race.”

“You’re not convincing me to let you sit on my back, dude.”

“Fine, but where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

“Home?” Dave shifts out of the booth and shoulders his backpack. 

“No the fuck you’re not! We’re not even halfway done with this paper!”

“I’ll bullshit something tonight.”

Karkat follows him, protesting the entire time. Dave tries and fails to shake him off. The sticky heat of the summer has yet to take hold of the city. Accustomed as he may be, Dave never looks forward to it, and the dread along with his current bodily aches makes him clench his teeth and curl his fists. He snapped at Karkat once, two years ago, in the summer. He was in a bad mood. Sweat-slicked hair framed his features. The humidity sat heavy in the air and made his clothes cling to the small of his back. He was tired, his brain had reached capacity after back-to-back lectures. The sun drained what little energy he had left, so when Karkat tried to lecture him about his romantic life, embarrassing him in front of their friends, he was genuinely mad. They weren’t close then, but were in each other’s circle. Dave had regretted it instantly. Karkat was a good dude. Sensitive in a way that made Dave cringe, sure, and outright obnoxious at times, but it was from a place of caring. He was fooled at first, with the way the other talked and typed. Karkat Vantas came off aggressive, loud and arrogant, but in actuality was all bark no bite (though his throbbing shin would argue otherwise). When he apologized, Karkat hugged him tight and everything seemed to magically get better after that. 

Dave’s pace slows to a stop once they round the corner, officially off campus and away from the crowds of students. 

“Sorry,” he blurts when the other stumbles to a stop to avoid crashing into him. “For getting all pissy.”

Karkat raises a brow and tilts his head to the side.

Dave uncurls his fists and tries to relax his shoulders. He doesn’t want to be uncool like back then, two years ago. Not to the troll he now knows well. Someone he genuinely likes despite pretending otherwise.

“It’s not anything you said or did.” Why was communicating so hard? And so fucking awkward? Why did he have to explain his feelings instead of relying on the people around him to telepathically understand what was going on in his head?

“Yeah, I know,” Karkat snorts. “You just need to book a fucking massage.”

“Phrasing,” Dave smirks.

“No, Dave. I know what I said.”

Dave flushes at the other’s nonchalance. He hates when Karkat has the drop on him. 

“I hear you can request a happy ending from some plac—mph.”

Dave gets him into a headlock with one arm, the other going over his mouth. There’s a familiarity to the action. “Be glad there’s no table to suplex you over,” Dave threatens. He releases Karkat the moment he detects the other open his mouth to bite him. Yet another familiar action. 

They tussle for a while longer until they’re giggling as they pull away. The distance between them lasts only a brief moment. On a whim, Dave reaches out and pulls Karkat back in, this time for an embrace. Karkat squeezes him tight. It knocks the air out of Dave in the best way possible. Karkat pops his back and nearly lifts him off his tippy toes. God he loved this fucker’s hugs.

“Did that help?” Karkat asks with a small smile, sharp teeth peeking shyly over his lips.

“I’m not sure,” Dave lies, chest tightening at the sight. Shit. “Can you do that again?”

Karkat embraces him with all he’s got. Shit, shit, shit. Dave fights back the groan. He’d never hear the end of it if he made a single sound in front of Karkat. But he can’t lie, this shit felt good. He wraps his arms around Karkat and hugs back. It becomes a competition. They embrace each other until Dave is certain one of them is going to pass out from lack of oxygen.

They release each other with dizzied laughs and crash back into each other, initiating another round. This time Dave reaches around Karkat’s waist, leading the other to lock his arms around Dave’s shoulders. Karkat squeezes the tension right out of those muscles. Dave strengthens his grip until that tight, hot sensation that had wormed its way along his arms and to the pads of his fingers dissipates completely. 

They stumble apart with dopey grins, wordlessly resuming their walk home with nothing to fill the air between them but the sound of passing cars and chirping birds. He should have known. All it took was Karkat hugging him tight. Everything always seemed to magically get better after that. 

[arcadekitten]

How common is magic is your universe? Technology seems pretty similar to ours so magic can't be common enough to be used instead of technology, but I was wondering how many people can use magic in your universe? And can some species have stronger and/or more magic users than other species?

Well the thing is it depends! I would say that magic always exists, but that who is privy to it depends...

Technology also varies from game-to-game. Cemetery Mary and HFSH for example have pretty "modern" technology with smartphones and laptops. A game like Blackout Hospital took inspirations from earlier-2000s technology, with characters having flip-phones instead of smartphones, and their rip-off gameboy being seen as a childhood toy. In a game like INMIMB they have televisions, but they're really rare and they don't have computers or internet. In a game like Crowscare they might not even have televisions at all!

I think that magic however often works in congruence with technology rather than them being opposing forces.

Anyone has the capability to learn magic, but it requires a lot of practice and typically humans have a higher aptitude to learn it !