#did someone say sundress season?

[kithtaehyung]

lollipop (3tan) (m) | myg

title: lollipop (m) | part one: summer bbq pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)  series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted | broken (pt. 1) | broken (pt. 2) rating/genre: m (18+) ; fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: after the summer cookout ends, you say goodnight to your brother and his best friend. but the latter just had to have a lollipop in his mouth… and had to make you aware of it hours later.  note: this is part two of the three tangerines drabble summer bbq! undisclosed whether these are in the main storyline or not, so it’s a standalone for now. note 2: also..... hope y'all read this in private :))) hahahah  warnings: yoongi is the biggest warning, but reader almost inches him out here🤭, no joke we may need to form a new line for reader, kissing, hella kissing, a mirror makes an appearance.. 🫣, tense situations, tender moments, lollipop gets its own warning i’m so serious, cocky yoongi lolll explicit warnings: under the cut! drop date: july 22nd, 2024, 7:17pm est word count: 7.3k💀💀💀

explicit warnings: food play (just roll with it😂), oral sex (m/f rec), masturbation, the struggle to keep quiet is real, mirrors are involved lord have mercy, spanking, breast play, multiple orgasms, yoongi hands, choking, fingering, face f*cking, titty shotsss, a little bit of manhandling and roughness but we love it��🤭, aftercare and cute cute reader afterwards

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—

It’s not long until you’re snuggled under your covers, every limb in your body relieved to be at rest. From getting ready, cooking for hours, to general host duties—all while trying to avoid sin in human form—you’ve completely exhausted your living battery. 

But for some reason, sleepiness is out of reach. 

Tiredness? For sure. But sleep seems to elude you, and you toss and turn before giving up and turning your television on. 

It’s after you get through two episodes of something random and endless doomscrolling that you get a text. 

From the last person that should be texting you right now.

And your heart slams on every brake it has.

Yoongi [2:37am]: You up?  

Umm.

What.

Why is he asking you that? It’s quite possibly the worst time and type of message to receive right now. 

Don’t overthink it. He probably just needs extra hands to drag your brother back to his room again.

You [2:37am]: mmhmm 

You [2:37am]: you need me for something?

With a sigh, you rest your phone by your side.

The last time that happened was so long ago. Back when you were fighting off sickness and absentmindedly grabbing tangerines to snack on.

You wonder what that man wants this time around.

Yoongi [2:37am]: Haha nah

Yoongi [2:37am]: Just curious

Well that’s interesting.

Is he still in the backyard? Somewhere in the house? You knew he was staying over, but is he in the guest room with Jimin lying down like you are?

Why is that making your soul squeeze? 

You [2:38am]: yeah i am. can’t sleep :\

After hitting send, you feel more awake than ever, staring at your ceiling changing hues from the light of your tv. 

It kinda hurts knowing Yoongi’s the closest he could be tonight. 

On one hand, you still remain feeling safer than ever, having all of them here. But on the other, you’d much rather Yoongi be right next to you, heart beating under the same covers and eyes covering you in moonlight.

He’s so close and yet… 

So damn far. 

Yoongi [2:39am]: Same. 

Your arm slings right over your eyes.

How is one word from him enough to make your legs shift? That is something that needs to be studied, but alas, you would only be the subject if someone paid you for it.

What do you say now? You miss him so much it practically hurts? You want him to be lying next to you even though it’s the riskiest thing in the world?

Maybe start slow.

You [2:40am]: did you have fun today? 

Shit, was that a little too slow? Abnormal? It’s not like you two have as much small talk as other people. Though you wouldn’t mind any type of talking with him at all, casual small talk just isn’t on the list of defaults.

When you check the next text you get, it’s hard to keep your phone from falling onto your face.

Yoongi [2:42am]: I’ll tell you if you open the door :)

Huh.

So much for starting slow what the fuck! 

You [2:43am]: ???

You [2:43am]: front door? 

Yoongi [2:43am]: Yours

There have been many times in which this man has made you speechless. Some just for being so heartstoppingly handsome; others for being the most considerate person you’ve ever met.

But this time?

You can’t even form all the reasons why you can’t form words.

You [2:44am]: ?????

Yoongi [2:44am]: 🤨

Yoongi [2:44am]: Feel like this is pretty easy stuff, doll 

What is happening? What possessed your brother’s legitimate ride or die to stand at your door while still in the same house? When other people are also staying over?

You’re so close. He’s right there. You can see a slight shadow underneath the wooden frame and it’s making your stomach silly.

But you have to be sure.

You [2:45am]: is he asleep? 

Yoongi [2:45am]: Yeah he’s out 

Getting up, you already miss the warmth of your sheets as you tiptoe towards the only thing separating you from the man you’ve yearned for all day long.

Fuck. If this isn’t the worst decision you’re ever gonna make in your life.

But damn it, you already knew you were gonna let him in as soon as he asked.

After checking what you’re wearing before knowing it doesn’t matter, you open your door while fearing what it reveals. 

And Yoongi slowly enters through the night—freshly showered, still studded with jewelry, and decked in clean clothes while dirtying your mind to hell.

Because of the goddamn lollipop in his mouth.

“What’s going on,” you whisper, knowing your brother could wake up at any second. Maybe. Possibly. Everything bad is always possible when you’re paranoid about it—especially since Yoongi is in your room! “What are you doing?”

Your secret wastes no time as he quietly shuts and locks the door, hair shifting down his head in damp waves as he takes out the sucker,

“This.”

Silent, he pulls you in slow for a kiss, melting you down with ease. When he presses you into one of your walls, you know the only thing propping you up is his pelvis molding with your front. 

Already, your senses are on high alert, wondering how long Yoongi plans on staying because as much as you want him here forever, you still want him in one piece. 

But it’s getting hard to concentrate on consequences and scenarios when this man is infiltrating your every thought. His lips feel like summer and his fragrance reminds you of spring, and you immediately know it’s that subtly scented body wash you picked to put in the guest bathroom. 

Strange. You both have now used each others’ soap and showers. That has to mean something intimate, right? How many people can say that about one another and not look into it too much?

Well, he technically hasn’t used the shower in your bathr—

“You looked great today,” Yoongi whispers into your neck. 

His kiss there renders you speechless for what seems like eons. Today. Uh huh. What were you thinking just now? “Thank you,” you finally sigh, relishing in the way he’s holding your side. “So did you.” 

“Thanks.” 

“I mean.. You always do, so. Nothing new there.”

Yoongi quietly huffs a laugh before tugging your hips. But he doesn’t say anything in return, and you wonder if he didn’t have an answer or just didn’t feel the need to. 

So your nerves fill the space again. “Is it weird that I missed you? You were here the whole time.” 

“Mm.” His kisses traverse up your shivering throat, and his raspy answer has your eyes fluttering shut, “I get that.”

Fuck, you can’t deal with him. “Is.. Is that so..”

“People miss me all the time.”

A snort. “Ass.”

Yoongi immediately laughs into your skin. “But they aren’t here now, are they?” When you don’t respond with anything substantial, he squeezes the side of your ass. “Are they.”

“No,” you hitch out. “But you shouldn’t be here, either.”

“Tell me to leave then.”

Shit. You can’t. You both know you can’t. You try so hard to stifle a moan when you feel Yoongi grip an asscheek, his lips finding your ear at the same time he gives a firm smack.

“Do it, doll.”

“I…” Fuck, he’s surrounding you and there’s no way no way out. “I can’t.”

“Good.” Yoongi then slides your hand from his side down to his legs, placing it on his very big, very hard length. “Cus I can’t fucking stay away from you.” 

You grip him through his pants, pleased when he moans deep. “What if he wakes up?”

“He won’t,” your handsome rebel purrs. “Drank for hours.”

“You sure?”

“Course I am.” Yoongi slides a finger along the outline of your breasts. “He tried to keep up and lost.”

“Typical.” 

He keeps doing exactly what you want him to do. It’s quite scary how well he knows your body now, but you’d also like to think you have a good level of knowledge with his.

Especially when you reach up to twist his nipple. 

A groan mixed with dark chuckles has your knees shaking, and you prolong it by doing something else you know—or think you know—he likes,

“I think you’d like it if I kicked you out now.”

The volcano inside Yoongi rumbles. “Is that so?”

“It is,” you huff out in mock triumph, loving how his cock twitches against your hand. “Or am I wrong?”

He flicks his eyes to yours before holding a gaze. A look so telling, and full, and searing. When his mouth flicks upward, he admits,

“I’d love it.”

Laughing as softly as you can, you stop to simply hug him. Leaning forward until your head rests, feeling the most at home and happy hearing his own amusement vibrating through his clothes. 

And just like that, you’re conflicted. 

What the hell are you doing? Even though passed out and sloshed, your brother could still wake up. It’s not like he’s totally gone. And if he catches his best friend in your room? There’s no telling what damage could be dealt.

Actually, the damage could be told in gruesome detail.

But the way Yoongi’s filling the distance from today, you really don’t want to stop. In fact, you don’t even want to pretend to shoo him off.

So this is your first step onto a precarious, unpredictable tightrope. A step you are very okay taking. 

“Babe?”

Shit, you got lost again. When you find your way back, Yoongi’s concern materializes at once,

“If you really aren’t down—”

“Fuck it.” 

Your kiss digs into his face so hard you strike gold, rewarded with a growl so potent it disrupts your core. Lightning zaps through your veins at the hands squeezing your hips, and you buck with a desperation that’s been stockpiling all day long.

Sliding along the wall, you notice that Yoongi tastes like alcohol and sugar, and you wanna lick every crevice you can reach, drunk off his cockiness and audacity alone. 

It’s no use fighting this. He’s really in your room, making out with you like a demon while the house is filled with your brother’s sleeping friends.

Fuck, you two could really get caught here.

The swirl in your belly keeps you on your toes, transforming your movements into sharp, hasty tugs on his clothes, hemlines, hair. You’re practically acting like you’ve never had him before and want to make up for all those missed opportunities.

Not like it’s any different every time.

But you’re quelled by a calm hand on your wrist. “As much as I like you like this,” Yoongi whispers across your cheek, “You can’t be too loud, baby girl.”

Your silent question must’ve escaped past your teeth. Because you hear a deep chuckle before shivers run down your spine,

“If you aren’t quiet enough I’m gonna fix that.”

Oh. Fuck.

“I didn’t even know I was talking,” you admit, body creasing in embarrassment and a bit of nervous laughs. Your grin cannot be contained by the fingers you slide up to cover it. “Oh, my god.” 

“What?” Yoongi’s devilish look is even more potent in the flashing lights of your television. “You serious?”

When you scrunch in deeper admittance, he flashes teeth with a wider smile than yours. It’s a prelude to the way he launches your heartbeat, his scent mesmerizing and his fingers lethal on the back of your neck. 

“Adorable.”

You groan into his swooping kiss, the rush of a thousand rivers carrying you to bliss. Breaths intertwined, the pair of you can’t seem to part until Yoongi accidentally shoulders something at his side.

Your mirror? When did you both travel so far that you got here? 

He lets off with a pop to steady the wavering furniture piece, pausing to make sure it’s stable before looking at the movie playing nearby.

And you watch in curiosity as he backs further into your room, eyeing himself in the mirror while slotting the sucker back into his mouth.

God. How did you forget he was still holding that?

And why can’t you move even as he turns around, even as he glances at the tv, even as he sits on the edge of your bed?

Move. Walk. Do something!

In the end, you can’t.

Because Yoongi’s stare alone gives you first time jitters, like you’ve never even conversed or much less slept with him before. 

How the fuck are you gonna get through the night? 

Swallowing and shooting one more look at your door, you pad your way to him, knowing he sees your nipples poking through your shirt and assuming there’s not much else you’re wearing. 

And he���s right. 

As you stop at Yoongi’s knees, you watch as he gives the lollipop another slow suck, groaning at the red smeared across his tainted lips.

That’s it. It’s decided. There’s no way you’re making it out alive.

“Get up here.”

Obliging but unhurried, you mount his lap, your heart skipping at the way he enjoys your shirt riding up your thighs.

So that damn sucker is gonna stay in his mouth? 

Min Yoongi is your enemy tonight.

Your nemesis, in fact. Even if he slides both free hands up your ass like that fuck he squeezes so expertly. Fuck. 

It’s keeping everything in you to hide your moan, your head falling forward as he slightly lifts you to drop you onto his comfy sweats.

When he chuckles in your ear, your muscles lock. And when he pops the lolly out of his mouth, you crumble at his mercy. “You were lucky to be off-limits today, doll.” 

“What…” You tense at another grip to your ass. “What do you mean.”

As you eye the silver around his neck, Yoongi’s smirk pours weight on your legs. “If you weren’t? There’s no telling what I would’ve done.”

You don’t think you’ve ever gulped so deeply. What toe-curling secrets is he hiding? Today could have gone a much, much different route depending on what he’d spill. “Tell… Tell me anyway.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

The man below you huffs quick, and you watch the corner of his mouth lift at a dangerous angle. “Would’ve kept you in that bathroom,” he divulges, voice dragging across the rattled surface of your brain. “Bent you over the sink.”  

Your breath hitches when he gets close, lips caressing your ear but words striking through your chest, “Just so you could watch me fuck you in that sundress.” 

“Fuck.”

“Uh uh,” Yoongi coos, chuckle so, so deep. “Quiet, baby girl.”

“I just…” It’s already hard to think around this demon of a person. But it’s even more difficult when he’s got your ear in his teeth. “Wait.” 

As he pulls away, the light of your television highlights his features. And you find that this specific, comforting look of attentiveness is what attracts you the most. 

Now that you can think clearly, you remember exactly what you were gonna do. It’s simple but significant nonetheless. 

Because your dress from today is in the laundry already. But that doesn’t mean you don’t have another one. Another very particular one he may remember, in fact. 

“Go over there,” you whisper, smile wide as you dismount. “Turn around.” 

When he wordlessly asks what you’re up to, a single finger presses against your lips before you assure, “Just trust me.” 

The way his brows scrunch makes your cheeks hurt as you watch him get up and swivel, endeared by the casual lean on your wall and the lollipop stuck in his cheek. Just as his head falls in waiting, you slip into your closet, darkness getting even darker as you enter.

Due to an afterthought, you pop your head out. “No peeking in the mirror.”

“Uh huh.”

Satisfied, you go back to your lightless search. 

You know exactly what you’re going for. It’s too easy for you to locate your chosen piece of clothing before stripping and changing as orderly as you can. 

Okay. This is okay because you’re alone, right? No one else is here. Technically. Okay.

As you make your way out, a million nerves pop and fizzle under moonlight. The air surrounding your bare shoulders proves charged. Electric enough to send shivers down to your pedicured toes.

Composing yourself before you break, you softly catch his attention as you eye the sucker poised in his fingers,

“Ready.”

The moon waits.

Your breath follows.

And when Yoongi turns, you know you’ll never forget this moment. It feels exactly like the time in that restaurant long ago, but more potent. Shimmering. 

Because you’re wearing the same sundress he witnessed you in on the night of Dom’s party. 

And you’ve never been so delighted to see the stars in his eyes go dark.

You expect him to call you over. Whether with words or not, you’re gonna do whatever he wants—because it’s what you want… too…

Yoongi’s aura billows as he closes the distance himself. No words. No gestures. Just step by breath-taking step, air around him so charged and commanding that your knees threaten to buckle. 

For reasons you won’t admit, your mouth can’t even create sounds. All you want to ask is if he likes the dress, or if he even cares you aren’t as dressed up as before. 

Of course he wouldn’t give a single shit. But you can’t stop yourself from these thoughts just yet. 

Swallowing, you stare as he rolls the sucker in his mouth, eyes in no other direction but yours. “You, umm. Does this one work instead? The other one is in the—”

Quick isn’t fast enough to describe what’s happening, your shoulders pressing into the nearest wall as your lips get consumed by lust and possession. Everything in your body tingles, and for a split second you wonder how Yoongi managed to swing you around so swift with barely a sound. 

Stars fly from your eyes before they slip shut, pouring want onto his veins as he circles strong arms across your waist. Sparks erupt the scant distance between your hips and his, and you are once again reminded why you feel so high-strung. 

There are so many people staying over. Not just Yoongi and Jimin. From what you can recall, at least ten people are passed out around the house, any of which could wake up for a bathroom break or something at any second. 

And yet. You will not tell this man to leave. Truthfully, this is exhilarating and all you’re doing is ki—

“Get down there.”

Oh, fuck. 

This is the new point of no return. 

If you do this, not only will Yoongi be a goner, but so will you. Both of you would never, ever come back from this. 

But that fucking lollipop…

Screw everything to hell.

Your smile grows with his, lip bitten in the throes of your newfound excitement. You already feel how rock solid he is through his pants, and you make it a point to stroke him on the way to the ground. 

There’s so little room that your ass skims the wall, your chest the second part to slide along his covered length and causing him to groan out a curse. 

Is there a shift here? Did you change the whole dynamic with one move? Maybe you’re the one with the power now. 

“Look at me.”

Ah. Maybe not.

Obedient, you stare upward, catching the fire in Yoongi’s eyes as he gives the sucker one more pass in his mouth. 

God, he makes it look so enticing. It’s just a piece of candy but you’ve never been this desperate to have one, too. Or be the one treated with his tongue like that goddamn does he have to make it seem so erotic?

With a pop, Yoongi releases the stick, lips shiny and tainted in the television lights. When he lowers it, you realize it’s descending—farther and farther—until it stops in front of your face. 

And shivers overtake you.

“Suck.” 

Well. You’ve never done something like this before. In all the relationships you’ve been in, you have never experienced anything like this. Much less in your own house. 

Which makes your eyes flare and the monster in your belly rumble, fire hissing from its nose and prying your mouth open to do exactly what you were told. 

“That’s my girl.”

Sugar coats your tongue immediately. Glowing, the heat in your core stokes embers, warning with each loll, each cave of your cheeks. You treat the candy so tenderly Yoongi will deny jealousy, and your lips pucker and puff with a sheen. 

Are you glistening as much as his eyes? Are you causing him as much grief as he has put you through?

You damn well hope so. Yoongi isn’t the only one that’s gonna unleash his needs from the whole day. 

So you keep sucking with closed eyes, swirling your tongue around the lolly and licking it just how you would his tip. It tastes like sweet rebellion, but also late nights with your friends. And with a fleeting thought, you know said friends would grill you if they ever found out this was happening.

Maybe Tae would just laugh his ass off. 

Fuck, this is so unbelievably risky. Your door is locked, sure. But the guest room is still very much missing an occupant and one look in there and at Yoongi’s car in the street would cause an eruption.

Through the haze of your thoughts, you hear shuffling and a low droning grunt. 

With one glance, you know Yoongi is crumbling. The shadowed promises under his bangs make you preen, and you remain on the precipice of anxiousness and glee.

“Keep that tongue out for me.”

Clearly, he doesn’t give a shit about risk.

So gladly, you oblige, flinching when the lollipop is replaced by something you’re much more familiar with, and your eyes bat on instinct as you know exactly what to do with this one.

When did he shove his pants down? Were you that lost in your sticky treat that you didn’t even notice? 

Doesn’t matter. You feel his beautiful weight on your stained tongue and it’s second nature to pleasure. When you grab hold of his base, you give one more suck before popping him out of your mouth to lick down.

For someone that’s been shushing you, Yoongi’s groan is not quiet, and you pause just in time to see him grit his teeth with a nose scrunched to hell.

And his attention is sideways. What is he…

Oh. Fuck.

You can see yourself in your mirror on the other wall. 

Is that… you? The one looking back with a visage so arousing your breath stops? If this is the person that Yoongi brings out you actually feel your confidence inflate like a parade balloon.

“So fucking hot.”

When you laugh in shyness, his eyes slide shut in agony as he rakes through his hair. Crumbling inside, you offer a compliment of your own, 

“You’re so unfair when you do that.” 

Yoongi has the audacity to grin wide as he grips his long strands. “This?” 

“Ugh. Whatever.” You wanna smack that smirk right off his face.

So you keep going, loving the way his walls and defenses are back to shattering at your knees. From your inappropriate level of experience with his cock, you go for what you know. Licking his underside, swirling around the tip, sucking just the first bit, gathering spit all over before taking him in deep. 

The smells around you coalesce into something potent. With the fruitiness of the lolly and the headiness of Yoongi, it’s pure bliss in your nostrils and you soak it all in. There’s no pause in your sucking, licking, tugging him rough. You’re giving it your all and feeling the effects between your legs. 

Suddenly. 

Huffs litter around your sundress as Yoongi yanks himself out, sticking the sucker in your mouth again while holding your head. And his smile puts devils to shame when he scoffs, “Unfair, my ass.”

You giggle, sliding the pop up and down your outstretched tongue before slowly pushing it in. When you watch one of his veiny hands grip his cock, your brain resets and rewires, prompting you to be a little bit more daring.

As if this whole situation wasn’t daring enough.

You coyly slide one of your sundress straps down your arm, slowly revealing the top of a breast before going for the other side. Not enough to show everything. But enough to give him a much better view from above. 

And the sound you hear in response causes pulses between your legs,

“What the fuck.”

Satisfied, you ride this high of praise and keep diligently sucking on the lolly, watching him pump himself until you can’t can’t can’t take it anymore.

It all happens in quick succession, your hand outright slapping the lollipop out of his hand before grabbing for him, shaky fingers knocking into his slick ones before slipping his dick in your mouth.

“Shit—”

His scent captures your nostrils as he bucks forward, knocking your throat and causing your gag to hit the wall. When you keep sucking, Yoongi grabs your chin, chains swaying as he rocks in, out, in, out again.

Drool and spit cover your neck, seeping onto his fingers as he keeps them where he wants. Imagining how you look in the mirror makes you moan, and imagining Yoongi watching everything from his view makes your cunt leak onto your thighs. 

Fuck you wanna watch, too. What does that say about you? You’re legitimately jealous that you can’t see yourself taking Yoongi so deep he’s cursing in strings. 

When you choke, it’s disgustingly loud, so he has to pull out once again just to command, “Quiet.”

“Ye—” 

He’s shoved back in before you can finish one syllable, back out after a single suck before he drives his point home, “Understand?” 

“Y—”

Your words are pushed down your throat again, the intensity Yoongi’s exuding rolling your eyes back and shaking your muscles. Spent and unable to speak, you nod around him, and your arms are suddenly gathered against the wall until you’re fully flushed, held up by one of his strong hands.

“Good girl.”

You brace yourself for his complete control, dick sliding down your throat and pushing tears out of your eyes. Breathing through your nose, you keep your tongue flat, taking him in until your full body gag alerts him to pull out. 

As soon as he does, you buckle straight towards the mirror, eyes bursting with shock as you drink in the man watching your heaving, shimmering chest.

“This is what you do to me, doll.” When you shift your attention upward, you gulp at his smile of pride. “Can you stand?” 

“I…” Holy shit, he fucked the voice right out of you. “I think so.” 

“Here.” 

You place your hand in his, muscles in your legs stinging at the change in position. When you go slow, Yoongi lets you, and your lips curve tenderly at the way he kisses you at your peak. 

“You almost made me come,” he whispers, chuckling when you watch his eyes. “Fuckin’ hustler.” 

“You didn’t want to?” 

“Not yet.” Winking, Yoongi gives you another peck before getting close. 

As you look in the mirror, you catch the way he kisses along your neck, his hair tickling your skin and his arms bent as he holds yours. It’s almost enough to make you feel higher than royalty, now knowing what it looks like to be feasted on by a king.

“Promise me something,” he rasps. 

“Anything,” you whisper in confidence.

“It’s your turn now.” Another kiss to your ear makes you flinch. “But if you’re too loud that’s all you get.” 

Bold statement coming from the guy that couldn’t stay silent. But you’re far too gone to dwell on the past so all you can do is nod in understanding. You need this. After today? You really fucking need this.

Yoongi tucks himself back in his sweats before kissing your neck again, lips leaving a trail along the tracks left by your own actions. When he gets to your chest, he gets to unwrap another treat, slowly peeling your dress down to suck on a nipple. 

You almost cut the whole thing short. 

A hand flies up over your mouth, and you watch your face twist in anguish in the glass. Sparks tingle from where Yoongi slides his tongue, and seeing this man in action from another viewpoint launches you across the edge instead of right to it. 

You’re gonna get yourself caught. There’s no way you aren’t crying out by the time he’s done but goddamn you’ve got to keep it toge—

Deft fingers rub your other nipple, causing your body to jump forward and Yoongi to chuckle into your chest. After he squeezes, you watch as he pops off your tit. “What’d I say.” 

This is the hardest thing you’ve ever done! 

You can only shake your head, hand still preventing your mouth to move and your throat stinging from suppressed screams. 

“That’s what I thought,” Yoongi quips before kissing the rest of your dress downward. 

And the fucker didn’t even look back at the mirror. Like he already knows exactly what he looks like or doesn’t care in the slightest. All he’s focused on is you and you alone, and you’re so enamoured that you watch his head below you, too. 

Calmly and surely, Yoongi lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, kissing along your skin and gripping you tight. When he lifts a brow upward, you nod downward, bracing yourself for him to notice something else you had planned to show.

Works like a sinful charm. His reaction could be felt better than seen. 

Because as soon as he notices that you don’t have any underwear on, Yoongi pours out dark amusement before giving your cunt the deepest kiss it’s ever felt.

A mewl smushes into your fingers as you cave, eyes shutting so tight as he eats you out like a man starved and never satiated. 

His licks hit just right, and the way he tongues you causes stars to pierce your eyes through. Over and over and over, Yoongi is merciless in how he pleasures, and your esophagus burns and burns and burns. 

Both your legs quake as he slips a finger under his tongue, and your eyes fly open just in time to see yourselves in the mirror again. 

Holy fuck.

You’ve always known this man was attractive. Overwhelmingly so, in fact. But seeing him on his knees and knowing it’s not a dream makes you so dizzy your brain can’t keep up. 

Yoongi’s hands flex on your skin with each minuscule grip, and his hair bunches as he moves between your legs. Your thigh covers his face, but maybe that’s for the best, because you don’t think you could handle watching his tongue while feeling it inside. 

“So fucking wet,” he hisses out before diving in again, and you use your other hand to grapple a chunk of his drying hair. “Fuck.”

Yes, keep going. He’s so close to making you come you squeeze even harder. By now, your whole upper body is burning with unreleased yells and your lower body is suffering just as much. He’s too good. Way too good for a quiet house.

You can’t hold it in. You can’t you can’t you can’t.

“Yoongi, please”—your legs start to twinge with want and pending release—“Gonna come, I—”

Everything snaps as soon as he reaches to grope your ass, tugging you forward to lick a spot that has you vibrating like mad. 

And your orgasm is so potent that your knees legitimately buckle, your body slipping with no purchase before you catch yourself on the wall. Waves hit you from all directions and you let out one yelp before you feel a moist hand clamp over your lips.

Oh, he’s standing now. Oh, he’s fingering you. Oh fuck, he’s talking you through your orgasm and you can’t understand him but your body reacts either way. 

“—another one for me.”

Your pulses wreck your body into angles, each one shifting into another as your mouth is still covered. Yoongi’s fingers prove fatal as he leads you into a second paradise, and you cry into his hand as you come into his other—harder, stronger. 

“Just like that, doll, fuck.”

Tears stream down your cheeks again as you lift, soaring into the summer skies and leaping over sleeping souls. It’s too much to keep inside. Too powerful to not let out all at once. 

“—this fucking dress.”

You don’t know what’s being said. Nor do you care. Your body is so spent from the vicious tempest and all the energy leaves you at once. 

“Uh uh.”

What. 

“One more for me,” Yoongi goads. “And you’re gonna watch this time.” 

Your chest beats and beats as his fingers pump slow, and your head lolls to the side as you catch sight of your salacious act in the mirror. 

Immediately, you know exactly why he said that. Watching the way his arms bulge with effort is encouragement enough to stay upright. With each thrust, you can see your dress hitching with your arches, and Yoongi dives into your neck to strike lightning. 

“Baby—” You feel it. You feel a third wave incoming and its crest seems higher than the rest. 

“Come for me,” he whispers, his dark bangs peeking from behind your neck in the mirror and his throat stretching out. “And don’t fucking scream.” 

Fuck! Your hand grips your mouth so bad it will leave soreness. But water pulls you under and twists you like a ragdoll. Unlike the other times, this orgasm quivers your legs to the point where Yoongi teases. And he can’t stop praising you for being naughty, for letting him in here, for letting him destroy you while everyone’s here.

“I love it,” you whoosh out into his throat, voice cracked and chipped. “Fuck, I love it.” 

“I know you do.” Another deep set of laughs. “You’re a problem.”

Head lolling forward, you slowly slip right into Yoongi’s arms before he helps you stand. “Come on,” he leads, walking you a short distance to your bed before chuckling at your cartoonish collapse.

Some moments pass. One, two, four or five more. Even the room seems to swim a little in your vision when you struggle to open your eyes. 

Finally, after breathing hard, you can only manage a gravelly, “Holy shit.” 

Yoongi laughs soft before wiping your forehead. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” you exhale, chest heaving and heaving. “I’ll be good.” 

Fingers still wisping across your face, he praises, “So beautiful.” 

You finally calm your pulse before you slide your hand over his cock. “Did you come?” 

“Nah.” 

Looks like you aren’t done. “Mm,” you whisper, trying your best to prop yourself up. “Lie down for me.” 

“You sure?” 

You nod with heavy eyes, and he slowly occupies your bed while you caress him again. So smooth and so tender before squeezing just right. 

It’s already almost enough because Yoongi throws his head onto your pillow. “Goddamn.”

When you slip his sweats down, you use willpower alone to consume him again. You will not rest until he’s fully content, too. With this in mind, your cheeks and jaw work overtime. 

You want this, want this, want this. He gave you the world and then some, you can run on fumes to make him a mess. After all, you’re drunk off the pleasurable cocktail he just concocted with his tongue. This will carry you despite your functioning levels in the trenches. 

“Babe—”

For a split second, you forget where you are. Your eyelids droop so low and your body twinges with aftershocks as you spit right onto his cock, sliding your lips along his pretty length before you feel him tug your sheets.

“Shit.”

He’s close. He doesn’t even have to tell you. You can tell by the way his body reacts and bends and folds, and you quickly decide what that means for you.

Because you could swallow. 

But you instead make your way to the floor, commanding him before realizing just how authoritative and raspy you sound, 

“Sit up.”

Right as he does, you pump him right above your exposed chest, shocking him so abruptly his low groan shakes your core,

“Oh, fuck—”

Hot, thick spurts land all over you, his release your only focus and not the pain in your knees from hitting the floor in round two. As his head rolls back, you watch with heightened pride, loving the way he looks lost in delicious, honeyed ecstasy.

And just like that, both of you are satisfied. Both of you got what you needed and wanted from this… hot summer… day…

There was a sound outside your door, further down the hall but fucking close enough. 

And holy shit his cum is on your tits.

Holy shit holy shit this is the absolute last thing you should’ve let him do what the fuck what the fuck! 

If anyone sees you like this you are both finished. Cooked. Banished.

You glance at the door, body locking and hands massive weights at your side. 

One second. 

Two seconds. 

You’re fully awake now. 

Four seconds. 

Nothing else happens. Your ears strain wildly but you don’t hear any noises in succession, and you wonder if it was just a snore or something similar. 

Sighing, you breathe out relief before peering straight up.

And the look you get in return is pure, primal hunger. 

Yoongi’s never looked like this. Maybe he’s come close that one time before, but this is much different. 

What is this? His pupils are magnified and his lids are lowered in fire, stoking the heat within you and clutching your cunt with his eyes alone. You’re so wet that you can come again if he so much as touched you. “Baby?” 

Yoongi simply grazes your cheek with his knuckles. “Just want this in my phone so fucking bad.” 

Oh. Well, fuck. 

You blink at his shamelessness. But it makes you so exhilarated and shy that you resort to your default—cracking jokes. Of all the things he could’ve mentioned like the sound outside or possibly getting caught and dragged to hell he decides he wants your pictures in his phone. Right.

“Happy you painted me like Picasso?” You laugh before you can even finish, but so does Yoongi as he throws his head back. 

Immediately, the atmosphere calms. “You heard that earlier?” 

“He’s an idiot.” 

“He is.” Yoongi helps you up and onto your bed before he asks, “Towels in your bathroom?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Under the sink.”

You watch as he goes to fetch them, heart pulsing extra hard at his consideration. When he bustles around in a room you use everyday, it’s surreal to witness. Both unnatural, but so natural at the same time. 

He’s careful not to make loud sounds, gently closing your cabinets and coming back with a cloth he ran under water.

A sudden pang hits your chest and you have no clue why.

Is it because you’ll never see him in there again? Or is it because of the conversation you just brought up? 

Maybe both. The convo from earlier today still rings in your ears, everyone hounding Yoongi about the scratches you left on his back. They were old but still very visible. You need to be more mindful of what you can and can’t do right now. 

As Yoongi wipes your shivering chest, you ask something that’s been weighing on your mind, “Did I get you in even more trouble?” 

He just looks at you before finishing his cooling task, raising straps back onto your shoulders. “Course you did.” 

Ah. He didn’t seem bothered, but your apology follows him as he goes to pick up the abandoned candy from earlier. “Sorry. I didn’t think about it at the time.” 

“S’ok. Hope you’re fine being some chick from outta town, though.” 

Your chuckle hurts your throat on the way out. Not from disappointment, but from the very man you’re talking to. “I can deal with that. Is she nasty?” 

It takes a bit for him to discard everything. When he comes back, he bends down to answer, 

“So fuckin’ nasty.” 

You giggle right into his kiss. Fully spent, your arms around his neck pull him in close, and his rough laugh makes your legs even weaker. “Can’t believe we just did all that.”

“Same.”

“Guess you like the dress, huh?”

A hand comes up to squeeze your thigh. “Dunno. Might have to see it again when the sun’s out.”

“Ass.”

“You get it.”

“Wow.” 

Yoongi hisses amusement, shifting to lay beside you across your bed. When he does, light from the window hits him just right, and you fall silent at once.

So perfect. So unfair.

“I think this is my favorite,” you admit, not giving him full context. So when he wordlessly asks for it, you reach up and caress his cheek. “When you look happy.”

“I am,” he says after a pause. “Cus of you.”

You feel starlight in your own eyes. “I’m happy, too.”

For this, Yoongi doesn’t need to ask for more context at all.

The lingering fear of being caught is still there, but it’s not as present now. Maybe it’s because you’re both content again, but you don’t feel too stressed. 

Did you want to get caught that whole time? Surely not when things were going down.

But what about now? If someone saw you lost in each others’ stars, would you care if they plucked you from the sky? 

Staring into this man’s eyes, you can’t bring yourself to say you would. 

“When will I see you again?” you blurt out of nowhere.

At this, Yoongi props his head up with an elbow. “When do you want to?”

“Tomorrow.”

His chest bobs with his laugh. “I’ll make sure to see you before I head out then.” 

You nod, eyes shutting when Yoongi goes in for another kiss. 

Another kiss is how you frame it. Because a final kiss is too painful to think about. 

Yoongi has to leave. You know he literally cannot stay.

But facts and logic don’t make this parting any easier, and your heart breaks when he slips out of your bed.

It’s too soon. Yes, it’s also way past the time he should be in your room, but it’s too fucking soon. 

Your chest burns. Sears make fiery ridges along your ribs until they overtake your heart, creeping closer and closer.

Until Yoongi bends to kiss you again, fingers slotting into yours and squeezing some liquid out of your eyes. 

But his rasp gives you pause, “I did, by the way.”

Blinking, you feel him swipe at oncoming tears when you ask, “You did what?”

“Have fun.”

Oh. Wait, he’s answering the text you sent? You already forgot about that. Ages ago. “Good,” you say with a slight ghost of a smile. “It looked like you were having a good time. And I.. Really liked seeing you laugh.”

Yoongi just stares, thoughts and emotions skimming across his eyes. When you reach up to cradle his cheek, they then slip shut, brows dipping as he presses into you further. “You were the reason,” he admits with no hesitation.

Don’t cry more. Not now.

He gives you one more hug, and you cradle his head into your skin. “Good night, baby,” you whisper so softly, planting a kiss on his cheek. 

When he does the same to yours, you wonder if his reaction was also reminiscent of tiny sparklers on a summer night. 

“Night, doll.” 

The steps he takes all stomp on your heart. 

But you find solace in the hopeful future. One where you can stand next to him at summer barbecues, or host them with him, or just simply be anywhere with him. 

But mostly, you’re yearning for a future where you don’t have to keep watching him leave through a door. 

But come back through one.

-

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fin. :)

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🍭so... how did it go!🍭 | join the server! | join the taglist!

a/n: thank you to everyone that has stuck around while i took my huge rest! it was a little strange to not be here everyday talking to you all, but looking back, the resting and step back was needed. although it looks like some people left - whether the blog or in general - i am happy to see so many familiar and new people! let's keep having fun with the 3tanverse and beyond, yeah? a/n 2: thank you for also being here despite the highs and lows! i'll be here to talk and scream with y'all whenever, and it should be more frequent now. also be on the lookout for some physical copy interest checks! we are getting closer to 3tan copies being A Real Thing! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ three tangerines masterlist

[sc0tters]

Untouchable | Quinn Hughes

summary: Quinn comes over to your brothers post season party, what happens when you’re there all cozy with another man?

request: yes/no

warnings: mature themes, p in v, mutual masturbation, swearing.

word count: 2.54k

authors note: it might not be Thursday anymore but I didn’t want to have to wait a whole week to get this published. Quinn might not be bad boy Quinn irl but he can be in our hearts.

Your only task for the evening was to behave.

Elias had warned you as he simply requested that you bit your tongue rather than initiating the usual argument that came between you and Quinn.

He truly didn't know what happened between you and his teammate the one night you came to watch his game but something three years ago set the two of you on this path of rivalry.

You were a freshman at the University of British Colombia and had finally found the chance to watch your brother play at home.

In truth you tried to not let the Hughes boy get to you primarily because you thought he was cute, but when he yelled at you for being in his way it started a long line of what your mom referred to as a pissing match between you and Quinn.

It was like you two were siblings with the way you two couldn't say something to the other without it being negative. If you were around in what could have been a remotely happy mood, it wasn't going to be the case for long. You brought a guy to a game once and Quinn literally told him to get away whilst he could.

That isn't to say that you weren't a bitch to him too, shortly after he told your date to hit the road you were quick to get your revenge telling a girl that Quinn had someone back at home waiting for him.

Thankfully for Elias, you two seemed to now be resorting back to comments that were directed at each other.

The reason why you had to behave was because Elias was currently hosting the post season team party and you had been invited.

You were deep in a conversation with Brock when Quinn arrived "you wanna take it easy?" Brock asked in amusement as he watched you chug the rest of your drink.

Quinn's eyes never left you as he took in what you were wearing. The pink sundress that was complimented by your curled hair. You looked really hot as rolled your eyes laughing at whatever Brock said to you.

It brought a weird sense of emotions through him "I've told her to behave tonight," Elias announced as he patted the younger boys shoulder. All Quinn could do was nod "trust that she'll listen," he thought to himself as he went in the direction of more friends as he began to wonder when you became such good friends with the blonde.

An hour, sixty minutes is how long it took you to leave Brock. Not that Quinn was counting though because that would have been weird.

But as you walked inside with nothing but an empty drink the eldest Hughes boy was hot on your tail.

You were completely unaware of his presence until you spun around to see him leaning against the wall "Jesus Christ Quinn," you slapped your hand over your chest as you jumped.

Quinn smirked as he watched your lips press into a thin line "can I help you?" You asked as you cocked your head growing irritated at his smile.

The boy shook his head "just surprised to see you without Brock." He confessed now letting you cross your arms.

It made you giggle at his comment "is little Quinner jealous?" You batted your eyelashes as you smiled.

His laughter bounced off of the kitchen walls "why would I be jealous of him when you're right in front of me?" He pointed out causing your face to drop.

He had a point "where are you going?" He furrowed his eyebrows as he watched you walk passed him "Brock is probably wondering where I am," you smirked as you licked your lips.

It made him scowl "no you're not," he shook his head as he grabbed your hand pulling you back towards him "you aren't the boss of me." You reminded him that he wasn't the one dictating what you did.

Quinn nodded as he thought about what you said "go and I won't bother you again." It wouldn't have been the hardest of things to do in the world, you each already avoided the other like they had the plague.

You contemplated leaving "and if I stay?" Being calculated and thought out was left to Elias when it came to the sibling duties "I'm gonna fuck you so good in your room that you're gonna forget your little Brocks name." The eldest Hughes son knew that he could get jealous, but usually it only happened when the girl was already his.

He also knew that because you were going into your senior year of university you lived with your brother during the breaks when everyone had to be off of campus “I’d like to see you try,” your hand held your can of white claw as you used your other to shove your pointer finger into his chest.

It was like in that very moment the tower of hatred that Quinn had built towards you in his mind was now breaking down.

As he pushed you onto the counter letting his fingers dig into your hips he kissed you like you were the last person on earth. Truthfully Quinn had wanted to do this for a while now and didn’t think you’d give him the chance to be in this position “Elias,” you blurted out as you pulled away.

Your brother was nowhere in sight but that didn’t stop your fears about him showing up “you go upstairs princess and I’ll be up there in a moment,” Quinn explained as he didn’t want anyone to see you two going up at the same time.

He helped you off of the counter giving you one last peck before he placed his hand on your ass giving it a squeeze “someone’s a little desperate,” you teased as you saw him roll his eyes “get up there before I change my mind,” Quinn warned as you giggled finally listening to his request.

You had been in your room for five minutes at that point and you honestly thought that he wasn’t coming anymore “that asshole,” you mumbled you clenched your thighs together wishing that you weren’t turned on by what you heard downstairs.

Certainly not your proudest of moments but you let your two fingers trail under your dress and into your panties as you began to let them circle your clit. It was just your desperate effort to relieve the tension that had built up because there was no was way that you were going to survive sitting downstairs all night “seems like someone couldn’t wait.” Quinn pointed out as he knew which guest room you usually stayed in so he had just let himself in.

You pulled your fingers out from your panties as your eyes went wide “thought you changed your mind,” you explained as you sat up when the boy moved to the side of your bed “didn’t tell you to stop,” he reminded you as he motioned to your panties.

It felt weird how you were literally in the palm of his hand ready to listen to whatever he had to say “let’s get them off so we can see your pretty fingers at work.” The comment could have made you come on the spot as you hooked your fingers into either side of the material and began to shimmy out of them “fuck me you’re soaked.” He blurted out as he was faced with your glistening pussy.

Quinn smiled as your fingers finally listened to his request and began continuing what you were doing prior to his arrival “who are you thinking about as you fuck your fingers?” It was safe that say that you were shocked at how vulgar Quinn was in bed but you couldn’t respond as you continued to get yourself off “answer me princess,” he added as he wrapped his hand around your wrist to slow you down “you Quinn only you.” You gasped as you were desperate to let your fingers move again.

Thankfully the boy seemed to pick up on that desperation as he nodded moving his hand away. But what you couldn’t see was that he was undoing his belt so that he could jack himself off.

The sight of you wasn’t something unfamiliar in his jerk off material list, one year when Quinn came over you were in the garden tanning in what was literally the smallest bikini that you could find in your room “such a pretty sight,” Quinn cooed drawing another moan from your lips.

You were so focused on getting yourself off that the grunts that he was letting out were only increasing your pleasure “if I knew that this is how to get you to shut up, I would have done it a long time ago.” The hockey player was surprised that he found the time to crack a joke amongst all of this.

It caused you to scoff “you don’t even have me yet.” You pointed out as you used all of your power to send him a glare.

Quinn’s facial expressions hardened at the comment “stop,” he motioned to you to retract your hand but that only caused your movements to increase in pace.

The boy had to say that he really didn’t know what to do, so he just wrapped his hand around your wrist and pulled your hand out of you. Quinn brought your fingers up to his mouth as he began to suck on them “how can a girl who’s so bratty taste so sweet?” He asked as he dropped your hand when he grabbed the condom from his wallet.

You smiled as you knew you were winning “I wouldn’t smile like that cause brats don’t get to come,” his warning made your face drop.

But that expression didn’t last long when Quinn began to rub his cock over your clit a few times before he thrusted himself inside of you “fuck you take me so well.” He groaned as he bunched your dress up over your stomach so that he could grab your hips.

It was a feeling you swore was going to leave bruises tomorrow “so big,” you mumbled as you were still adjusting to his size.

That was something the boy seemed to have no desire to let you do as he continued to fuck you in that agonisingly slow pace “please,” you begged as your hands went to the pillow behind you.

The hockey player smiled “what do you want baby?” He asked as he cocked his head enjoying how slow your brain seemed to be working.

You couldn’t seem to find the right words “wanna kiss you,” you explained causing his heart to melt.

It was by far the sweetest thing that you had ever said to him and if he wasn’t balls deep inside of you he would have called you out on it “say please princess.” Quinn was in the mood to be a little shit as he was curious how far he could take your desperation “please Quinny,” your lips formed a pout as the boy wrapped your lips around his waist.

He leaned down as he hooked his one hand behind your neck “sure thing,” the boy muttered deciding that he had enough of teasing you as he let your tongues being the battle that they were in.

The fruity white claw and beer tastes that were on each of your tongues began to merge into one weird tasting flavour as you two continued to make out.

When Quinn groaned into your mouth it caused your core to clench around him “you liking this princess?” He asked with a smirk as he ran his thumb over your lips.

You scoffed “no,” you lied looking away from him as you didn’t want him to see that you weren’t telling the truth.

But instead he just lowered his head to your neck where he began to nip at it causing your hand to lock into his hair “fuck Quinn,” you moaned as your fingers gripped onto his hair.

This was honestly just all too easy for the eldest Hughes boy “if only you let me know how you felt earlier,” he sighed as he let his thumb lazily draw circles on your clit.

You couldn’t help but smile “harder,” it was like a challenge that you were waiting for him to take on.

If he went quicker it would mean that you’d be loud thus a higher chance of getting caught.

Sure it was weird but Quinn was actually really turned on by the idea of you guys getting caught, maybe not by Elias because he’d had to run for his life. But the idea of someone walking past and hearing just how good Quinn made you feel “you gonna be a good girl then?” He taunted you as the pressure he applied on your clit increased but the pace of his cock remained the same.

All you could do was nod “promise I will Quinn I promise.” You cried out and that was all Quinn needed to increase the speed of his thrusts.

Before you knew it your eyes were almost rolling back into your head as the sound of skin slapping bounced off of the walls meaning that it someone was upstairs they were going to hear it “keep this,” you begged as your hand slapped over your mouth as you could feel your high approaching. Quinn used his free hand to move yours away from your mouth “want to hear you ask you come.” He explained as he shook his head making sure that your hand didn’t go back to cover it again.

You began to clench around him at a much more frequent pace “I’m gonna come,” you announced as you looked up at him to see any indication that he didn’t want you to.

Quinn leaned back down as his lips hovered over yours “let go baby,” with than he kissed you as a way to suffocate those moans because as much as he enjoyed them the idea of getting caught by people downstairs was a little bit much for him.

Thankfully for you Quinn wasn’t far behind as your own orgasm seemed to spur his on “my pretty girl did so well,” he was much softer as he looked at you once you both came back to reality.

Before you could respond though there was a knock at your door “y/n you seen Quinn?” Elias asked caused your eyes to go wide. The Hughes boy took his as the perfect moment to slide out of you causing you to glare at him.

You tracked your mind for what to say “why would I know where that dickhead is?” You scoffed letting a smile form on your lips when Quinn sent you an offended look.

Elias didn’t seem to accept your answer “it’s just that Brady said he saw you two talking in kitchen.” You did love the Tkachuk boy but in this very moment you wanted to kill him “never mind he said he had to run to the store.” Your brother added as Quinn had just sent him that message.

Maybe that Hughes boy wasn’t so bad.

[lunamoonbby]

🌺💖🎀Simon's Little House Wife🌺💖🎀

Gif credit goes to @poohbea

Warning ⚠️: slight body insecurities on Simon's end, female reader, reader is referred to be short like 4'11 height, reader being called wifey or lovie simon is referred to as hubby, reader having a slight belly pouch, and NSFW MINORS DON'T INTERACT

Being Simon's short little house wife who enjoys cooking and baking sweets for her hubby cause he's big and needs a the nutritional food he can get.

Simon who wasn't a big fan of sweets until he tasted a cupcake from his lovie.

Simon who can't help himself to just only one plate and will eat how ever much servings as he possibly can

Lovie who has to cook for a literal army meaning the pot that can have everyone eat the same leftovers for 5 days(I'm pretty sure we all know the pot) cause her hubby has an appetite as big as him.

The pot never really having 5 day leftovers inside but only enough for lovie and hubby to have for lunch the very next day

Lovie who make sure there is always sweets around, like cake, cupcakes, brownies, cookies, pies...just baked goods in general

Simon who starts to gain a bit of weight but doesn't know until someone tells him

Wifey who enjoys seeing the weight he put on cause it was her food that did that, and Simon is much more comfortable to cuddle with since he isn't all muscle anymore and has a nice dad bod going on

Simon who did his on base medical exam finding out he gained weight cause the doctor asked if he was bulking again (doctor was afraid he was going to go from walking brick wall to a walking tank cause he's already menacing enough)

Simon who is confused and when he really sees himself that's when he notice the weight gain

Simon who comes home and eats only a little bit of food and wifey being confused as to why that's happening

Wifey asking simon what's wrong you always EAT my cooking and that looks like a snack for you

Simon who tells her his insecurities saying he gained weight and he fears that he's no longer attractive

Lovie giving him that look before saying that she knows about the weight gain and that he's still the simon she married and that he's much more comfortable to cuddle now that he's not pure muscle, and his body heat keeps her warm at night, and it swells her with pride knowing that her food is that great and that he is getting the nourishment that he needs, and that he also eats her out like a man starved leaving no crumbs behind

So with that said simon is like I want dessert first and lovie being excited cause she made a yummy peach cobbler and Simon having to tell her not that kind of dessert but I will have me a piece of that cobbler when I'm done with you and my dinner

Lovie not being able to wait anymore goes in the living room lies down on the couch and lifts the skirt part of her dress up and removes her panties so Simon can get to eating which he does until reader has to push him away and squeeze her thighs together like she's gonna crush his skull

Simon who is content with his life

Lovie who brought in a batch of cupcakes for 141 cause it was prices birthday and it gave her and excuse to be a little baker

Soap saying that his LT's wife looks like a milf cause the sundress + belly pouch = mom bod and she also mothers the 141 and ghost reprimanding soap

141 getting a taste of lovies cupcakes and everyone telling ghost that they can see why he gained weight cause his lovie just makes really delicious food

Wifey who is like say all what you want about my hubby but I love him just the way he is, he looks even more grizzly, he knows exactly how to satisfy me and I love my walking tank he makes my size kink go brrr and he keeps me very warm when it's cold just like a bear and she just starts singing cuffing season by SZA

Simon bringing his wife in for a hug cause his wife is his hype woman and he can't get over how loving she is

141 wanting to have a wife like Simon's cause they're all jealous of the treatment simon is getting from his wife

[chaneajoyyy]

Just watched top gun maverick…… and whooo Chile. Any fics for any of them and a poc or black reader?

You know it! @leahnicole1219

TOP GUN FANFICITON (!black reader or !poc reader)

BRADLEY "ROOSTER" BRADSHAW

"you know what i need in my life is to run and jump iinto bradley bradshaws arms to kiss him like he's gets back imma sprint"- @inkdrinkerworld

"he met me in my im going to stay single phase & now i'm obsessed with him (!au)- @deanscroissant

hit the hard deck series- @purplelily247

crush (bradley x black!oc), good wife (x!blackoc)- @dulcewrites/@dulcelibra

"he puts on such a hard front but he's a total pleaser in the bedroom. he'll go all out if you're having a hard day and not ask for anything in return, no matter how much you insist it'll make you feel even better, the rooster and i series- @princessphilly

LT JAKE "HANGMAN" SERESIN

call me jake series, watermelon sugar, hangman is secretly possessive and loves leaving marks everywhere he can especially if he sees someone else flirting with his girl, Can I request a soft moment between Hangman and the girl he is seeing?, thinking about calling him daddy for the first time. Like, it just slips when you’re begging him to touch or fuck you and the man goes feral., ohhhhh Hangman finally getting with the girl of his dreams but she’s not convinced he actually likes her because she’s heavier and he’s carved like a greek statue, so he spends the night proving to her just how much he’s attracted to her, i know you wanted smutty but I’ve been feeling really blah lately so if you could hit me with some humor fluff maybe slight smut? With rbf reader who is blunt saying 10) “Look, I’m not into choking but I wouldn’t mind if you grabbed me by the neck every once in a while.” To hangman while playing pool just completely shocking him, going off the thought that Hangman has a classic sailor pinup on his thigh... Could we please have some Hangman tattoo worship please?- @princessphilly

mrs. seresin- @afictionalwhor3

jake's love language, cowboy's date with a georgian (xblack!oc), wet dreams, texas roadhouse, jade, alien storytime (another world series) - @entertainmentgirl80

"hello hello my love <3 I thought maybe I could request something where reader has never really been comforted when crying throughout her life but one time Jake walks in on her crying and just comforts her. She doesn’t expect that and it’s all just a bunch of fluff! I love your writing so much thank you for putting your work out for people to enjoy <3- @inkdrinkerworld

you're pretty, so happening, you're alive, trip to the bahamas no fuck that series- @itsthestutterforme

LT RUBEN "PAYBACK" FITCH

"we neverrrr talk about Payback. Tell me about what happens when Reuben takes a girl out on their first date. Since I'm feeling all mushy."- @princessphilly

LT JAVY "COYOTE" MACHADO

"just wanna share sime little thots on Javy but damn does that man look like he gives such good head. He's reserved but when its behing closed doors that mouth can do anything you want ((but you'll have to ask niceky first)) 🥴", "thots on Coyote and pussy worship?"- @princessphilly

daylight, pie, cancelled flights and beignets- @siempre-bucky

if it's worth your time series, promise this ain't a test, i did what i had to do, for better days, how sweet it is...- @coyotesamachado

flight scare- @words-4u

pie- @siempre-bucky

LT BILLY "FRITZ" AVALONE

***

LT MICKEY "FANBOY" GARCIA

what happens when mickey grows his hair out... - @siempre-bucky

take me by the heart, take me by the hand- @rae-gar-targaryen

warped series (with jake seresin)- @anjaelle

ROBERT "BOB" FLOYD

sundress season, bob is a freak in the bedroom, good girls do, bob and his good girl's wedding night, "anything you got for rooster i'll take it...literally anything but like him on the beach playing touch football" - @princessphilly

white christmas (spy/the americans au)- @dulcewrites

morning showers, koko's and bobby's sexy time, koko's insecurities, expecting again koko's & bobby's special day, koko's special valentine's, - @entertainmentgirl80

the new girl, i think you're cute- @ladyelissarose

might be an understatement- @friendlyneighborhoodchaosdemon

***LET ME KNOW IF YOU HAVE ANY !BLACK READER OR !POC READER FIC WITH THESE CHARACTERS HIT MY LINE!!!***

[derrygirlstrash]

—

“I got over it. I had to. Ghosts weren’t real, it was stupid. I was stupid.” He finished talking and let himself look at her again, expecting her to agree that it was stupid, because it was.

Instead, her voice was so soft and so understanding that he felt himself un-tense his shoulders slightly as she reassured him, “It’s not stupid for your fear to come back up. Things that happen when you’re a child, they stick with us sometimes…”

“… If you remember when you called me a spaz at the start of the school year.” She added and he felt himself tense in a different way entirely when she said that.

Logan felt his anxiety begin to give way to guilt, remembering how strongly she reacted to the nickname. He never understood why she got so pissed off at him for calling him a spaz when they often threw little jabs at each other. It was different, how angry she got. Which made sense if what he was feeling was what she was feeling… “Is… this… how you felt?” He asked, his voice quiet.

Her answer was simple.“… Sort of.” Almost so simple that it sounded as if she was saying a lot when she said so little. It felt bigger than ‘sort of’.

“I never said sorry for that.” He said after a pause, remembering how after she got her revenge he just threw the basketball and stormed off in the sundress, his anger mixing with the slight attraction he had only just realized he had for her after the scheme she pulled off.

He never… apologized. For making her upset enough to think of the scheme in the first place.

“I didn’t expect you to.” He knew she wasn’t trying to make him guilty when she said that. Which only made him feel guiltier for what he was only now realizing she must have felt. He wasn’t the type to apologize much, even when he went too far - which he did a lot - and most times he didn’t even think about saying sorry. She knew that enough to not expect him to apologize even when he should have.

Guilt prickled uncomfortably on the tips of his fingers as he remembered that the last time he cared so much about hurting someone was, well… the last time he hurt Quinn. He remembered that incident with the robots sometimes, a reminder not to go over the line with his enjoyment of pushing her buttons.

There was a line between winding her up and hurting her. He went over the line without even knowing he did.

—

Another chapter of my ‘Slow Burn / Practice Kissing Season 3 AU’ has finally gone live! I am excited for people to read it! Please do and comment if you like it, so I am incentivized to keep writing these long fucking chapters!

[ourflagmeansgayrights]

Im gonna give you kind of a thinker here: the Swede

originally wrote "this is absolutely a thinker bc the swede is probably the crew member i care about the least" and then i wrote a million fucking words. i am chronically incapable of shutting up.

favorite thing about them: saying "the accent" feels like a cop out but there's not really a lot going on with the swede. so yeah it's the accent. also it was really funny to me when i started watching A League of Their Own and nat faxon was there

least favorite thing about them: ok weird pet peeve but why do he and buttons both have long blond hair. one of the many details that i love abt ofmd is how there's so much variety in the crew's "character designs," which i feel like is harder to get in a show that isn't animated, but the fact that there's two bitches with long blond hair bothers me so much. it's like if there were two characters who wore an orange beanie or two characters with a scar covering one eye or or two characters with stars tattooed around their right eye or two characters who wore their hair in a man bun. like it's a distinctive physical characteristic and it's used twice. this bothers me and has been bothering me for months

favorite line: "The teeth don't go back in!" is something me and my dad regularly quote to each other

brOTP: this is not something i've ever thought about until right now so i'm just gonna throw the two blond bitches on the ship into a jar and shake them around. imagine buttons and the swede hanging out a lot (the swede chilling in a barrel while buttons sails) and everything buttons says scares the shit out of the swede but he's just nervously like "öh! hähä!" the whole time. but he keeps willingly hanging out with buttons all the time and nobody can figure out why

OTP: ok by no means is this an otp but izzy x the swede is my favorite izzy x crew member ship (or the izzy x crew member ship i hate the least) bc it's so fucking funny to me. *benoit blanc voice* it makes no damn sense. compels me, though. wait SHIT alternate answer that i just thought of: the swede x spanish jackie. what if in season 2 the swede marries jackie in return for a ship. obsessed.

nOTP: idk man. probably the swede x a badminton? the swede x king george?? i have zero thoughts about this one

random headcanon: im too lazy to come up with something new so enjoy these three old posts

unpopular opinion: there's a small but nonzero amount of like. transfem swede content??? or fanart of the swede in sundresses and girly clothes. and like, i dont really give a shit, but i feel like a big reason for the existence of fem swede content is his physical appearence?? he has long blond hair and he's thin and he's young(er than buttons, another thin guy with long blond hair) and he has no facial hair. i haven't rlly looked at fem swede stuff so idk if there's more to the headcanon than that but as someone who matches that physical description and who isn't a girl it kinda makes me :/ but also it's possible that my very mild discomfort with this is just my own brain, and the swede's physical appearance has nothing to do with why this hc/fan content exists

song i associate with them: barbie girl by aqua bc of an ask i got once. also rest in peace scurvybarbie, deactivated too soon

favorite picture of them: this bad edit i did in response to that ask

[confetti-cupcake]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks for the tags @lostinabuddiehaze, @elvensorceress and @monsterrae1! ❤️❤️❤️ I've been posting a lot of non-Buddie snippets from my Survivor fic recently, so let's change it up — here's a tidbit from my murder mystery And Then There Were None-style whodunnit fic set toward the beginning of season 2, featuring both Buck and Eddie, who have just arrived at the manor, unaware of what's about to take place 😈

Eddie can barely make out the name written out on her luggage tag with handwriting as pin-straight as her hair: Dr. Hanako Ito.

“Is it just me, or were you expecting more of a beachy, resort-type place?” she asks, looking around at the manor. 

“Not just you. But hey, where else are you going to find…” Eddie trails off, studying the shrubs decorating the path to the front door, “dueling angel and devil topiary?”

“Creepy, yet impressive.” They followed the path down, passing vivid designs, and Eddie did his best to ignore the striking one of a hooded figure holding a scythe. “Owner has some interesting taste.”

“That’s for sure. You looking forward to the time away?”

“Look, I love my husband and my son. And my job is my passion. But between you and me?” she whispers, low and conspiratorial. “I could really use a vacation.”

“Hey, no judgment here,” Eddie says. “I think we all could.”

Hanako’s chauffeur opens the front door, which is bookended on either side by gargoyle vulture statues. They’re greeted by two butlers, outfit in neat suits, who welcome them. One takes their bags, and the other leads them through the parlor to the recreation room, where the crowd of other award recipients awaits.

“Hey! We were thinking you’d never show up!” a young man sitting close to the door says as he springs to his feet. “Now the party starts.” He runs a hand through his jet black hair before extending his hand out for them to shake. His piercing emerald eyes make him look like something out of a fashion spread, and are the kind that make Eddie stop in his tracks — all-consuming, but unnerving all at once. “Duncan.”

The next few minutes is a blur, while Eddie is stopped by everyone stepping up to introduce themselves on his way to the bar. There’s Harlan, a fire chief from a few states over, whose handshake could strangle someone if he isn't careful. There’s Griselle, a bubbly elementary school teacher who held onto Eddie a beat too long when they hugged, and Sheila, a 40-something police officer whose face tells him she's already exhausted by every single person at this brunch. And Detective Julian Crawford, who Eddie only knows how to address as such because of the badge proudly displayed on his belt. 

Not everyone approaches him. A scholarly-looking guy with thick glasses sits in the corner alone, sipping on a Shirley Temple. And an older woman, probably in her late 50s, her hair in a bun so tight that Eddie doesn’t know how she doesn’t have a splitting headache, stands by the old-timey record player, observing the whole thing with beady, unblinking eyes. 

It’s a while before he even spots Buck, who’s sitting at the bar chatting up a petite brunette in a pink sundress. Or, as he comes to find out when he actually goes over to say hi, is smiling and nodding at the petite brunette in a pink sundress as she, er, drives the conversation.

“It’s really the all-purpose drink, you know? You just cut up all the fruit you have in your fridge or hanging out on your counter, and just put it all in with your red wine of choice. God, I love wine. I could drink it at any meal, even breakfast. Did you know that’s why they call it sangria? Because the red wine makes it look like blood. Isn’t that interesting?”

Before Buck can respond, the woman turns to Eddie. 

“Hi!” she says, before Eddie can say anything. “What’s your name?”

“Uh, Eddie. Eddie Diaz,” he says before shaking her hand. 

“Eddie! It’s so nice to meet you! I’m Mary! Mary Almond. You know, like the nut,” she says with a girlish giggle. “Nut. That’s such a funny word.” She gestures wildly to the barstool on the other side of her as her drink threatens to slosh over the rim of her glass. “Sit down with us! We were just talking about— wait, what were we talking about?” she asks Buck. 

She’s giving… Miss Rhode Island from Miss Congeniality. But she’s gorgeous, in a very approachable, girl-next-door kind of way. And she's clearly full of fun facts. Probably Buck’s type, if he’s being honest. Not that he’s ever thought about this exact thing before. Nope.

Tagging: @ashwinmeird @elvensorceress @megslovesbooks @lightningbuck @jacksadventuresinwriting

[goldeneyedgirl]

Is there any chance you have anything else you’d be willing to share in the “wouldn’t you like to know” jasper as loki, alice as agatha-verse? In love w that story 💕

Oh man, I totally missed this note and I am SO HAPPY someone else enjoyed that strange little fic.

A lot of what I wrote in that 'verse is in pieces, but I did find this little scene - it's very much set and inspired by the events of Loki Season 1. If you didn't watch Loki, basically a time-travel duplicate (a Variant) ends up in the Ministry of Time. The concept of where Jasper is is entirely mine, and the name of the Level is actually a maths formula that I cannot get to format right on Tumblr, so I've replaced it. And I really loved the idea of the Pack being what is arguably the highest power in the universe.

I was writing this with tragicallywicked, but I'm not sure if she has any plans to continue it. I might write a few little one-shots and scenes if there's interest - at least finish a few of the bits I started - but that's where we're at for now.

The hall at the end of Level возможность was one of the few areas that Jasper hadn’t managed to explore yet, and after his last disagreement with Sam, he found himself stalking towards the oddly grey-green corridor.

He had the right to access the files on Asgard and Midgard without censorship. Without a nanny hanging over shoulder, making sure that he was playing by the rules. Variant or not, he was still a person with people he… he wanted to check up on. 

“Jasper!”

He jerked as he walked past the first door. He knew that voice. 

(It was the voice he heard screaming in his head every goddamn night.)

They had her here? The whole time?

He pushed open the door, and the light flicked on. 

The room… it was…

For a moment it was Asgard, his study in Asgard. His carved desk, his books, the odd little ornaments and things he had collected in his travels. 

Alice spun into the room, beaming. She looked… beautiful, in a mint-green coloured Asgardian gown. 

“You’ve been in here for hours,” she said, grabbing his hand. “You promised me an adventure.”

“I did?” he managed through numb lips.

“‘An adventure for our anniversary’?” she mimicked him and he got the shock of his life at the emerald ring on her finger. “You promised. I want to go to Alfheim to see the lights.”

He let her pull him along, and he found himself nodding. They could certainly go to Alfheim, go and see the stars and cosmos that swirled above the forest. They could find an inn and spend the night together there. One of a million innocent little adventures they never got to have. 

As he passed through the door, he expected to be in his Asgardian sitting room. Instead, they were in a Midgardian home and he recognised Alice’s things - the old couch, and the ridiculous television…

And odd bits of Midgardian plastic scattered on the floor. 

“Da!”

Within seconds, a small girl was making her way across the room. She was maybe two Midgardian years old and she was beautiful. Her hair was shiny and black, little feathery curls, and her eyes were an odd grey-green. And she was reaching for him. 

She beamed at him as he lifted her, and pointed towards the door as Alice appeared. She looked nothing like the one he had left behind; this Alice had her hair long and loose. Her nose was a little sunburnt, and she was wearing a grey sundress that seemed to accentuate the bump of her middle.

“Jas! She’s been waiting for you to get back all day,” Alice is there, standing on her tiptoes for a kiss that he bestowed, stunned into silence. “Rosalie is back in the city for another week, and wants to see us all. She promised that she won’t say anything controversial.”

He wants to reach out and touch her stomach, and it feels far too intimate. 

“He’s been kicking all day, I swear,” Alice said, grabbing his hand and pressing it on her abdomen, as if she could hear his thoughts. “And I know you hate it, but we’re having a pizza tonight because I am dying for it. If you don’t like it, well, you shouldn’t have knocked me up twice in two years. Oh shit, Mommy didn’t say ‘knocked up’. Mommy didn’t say ‘shit’.”

She squinted up at him. “Are you okay? Is that stupid rift-tech that Benjamin gave you still messing with your head?”

“I-I think so?” He was so aware of her, of the weight of their daughter on his hip, of the firm bulge of her belly underneath his hand.

“Go take a nap. Esme and I will hold down the fort.”

Esme. His daughter Esme, named for his mother. For the only mother that ever mattered. 

“No!” Little Esme shook her head. “Da!”

“Daddy’s going to nap, Essie,” Alice said, hands on her hips. “Do you want to nap with Daddy?”

“Yes,” Esme nodded, her chubby arms around his neck.

“Okay,” Alice shrugged. “If you want to take a nap, have at it. But be nice to 

Daddy.”

Esme nodded seriously, and suddenly, he was moving through the room and down a hallway towards a bedroom. And he felt himself clinging to the little girl, to his baby daughter, terrified of what would be behind that door. What he would lose behind that door. He wanted to stay here, stay with an Alice who had given him one child, and was expecting another. A place where he was a father and husband, one who was wanted.

Esme smelt like sunshine and sugar and soap. He wanted to stay with her, to turn around and go back to Alice. 

But his legs kept moving forward and he pushed open the door. 

And his baby was gone. 

Everything was gone. 

Just grey dirt and fog and nothing. 

“Was it worth it?”

Alice’s voice is sharp and judgemental.

“Alice?”

“Was it worth it?”

He turns around but he cannot see her. 

“All those years of fighting and teasing and fucking and refusing for one goddamn minute to actually acknowledge that you might care for me and that we might have something better, and this is how you end up. Alone.” She sounded furious, icy and sharp. 

“You could have had anything you wanted. We could have been in the same bed every single night of your worthless life. I mean, was that our first anniversary adventure, hmm? Or was it our fiftieth? We were so happy. Why didn’t you want us to be happy? Were you afraid we wouldn’t be? Afraid I’d laugh at you?”

She sounded like she was pacing behind him. He refused to look over at her, and just shook his head. 

“I didn’t think…” he began.

“What, that I’d want that? Despite the numerous hints that I wanted you to be more than this fuckbuddy turned rival? That I would have gone along with any life you had wanted - your Queen, your wife, your lover - as long as we were together?”

Suddenly, Alice sounded like she was crying. 

“You found it so easy to die for me, but not once did you ever try to live for me,” she said so quietly. “Want to know what happens next?”

“Next?” His voice wasn’t shaking, it wasn’t. 

“Now that you’re dead - well, your other self?” He could hear her moving behind him. “You went and got yourself killed, and Thanos invades blah blah blah. Very dramatic. I even manage to contribute to the fight and save the world. But I do it alone and I go home alone. And I learnt to live alone. I do some terrible things. And then I leave Earth and go looking for trouble. 

“I’m good, so I’m okay for a while. There’s no one left that cares about me though. No one comes looking for me. And eventually I pick a fight that I can’t win. So I lose. I am dying slowly and I am left where I fall, the Migardian witch. It takes forever to die on whatever forgotten fucking planet this is. No one knows. I’m just dead. No burial or memorial.

“I died alone, Jasper, because you were too much of a coward to ever stay with me,” she hisses and he finally turns around to look at her. 

Her skin is grey-green, and rotting. Her eyes are congealing, and blood has dried in long paths from her nose and eyes and mouth. Her throat is a ring of blackened bruises, and this a gaping flap of skin and hair from where someone tried to bash her head in. 

And he cannot. He cannot see her this way. This is not how she ends, staring at him, coughing and spluttering blood up, the brightest thing in the room. 

“I loved you so much,” she choked and Jasper backed away as she reached for him, refusing to let this fate touch him, lest it come true. And suddenly, he hit something hard and tumbled backwards into the hallway of Level возможность , his heart pounding. 

Sam was leaning against the wall with a soda. “The Possibilities, “ he said, motioning to the doorway Jasper had just fallen back through. “We used to use this department for Variant interviews,” he said calmly. “Helped us work out what made them tick. It tends to inspire cooperation. But it got retired a few years back.  Seemed too cruel.” He nudged something with his toe. “Good thing it wasn’t plugged in - Admin used to love streaming it down in the file rooms.”

Jasper started at the door. “T-that wasn’t real?” he managed. 

“‘Possibility knocks, it doesn’t beg’,” Sam quoted. “They were acceptable paths you could have taken. It digs out your biggest fears and regrets and wishes and just goes hog wild. Some truly wild stuff has come out of that room, I won’t lie.”

“Alice isn’t dead?” Jasper asked quietly. The image of her dead self would never leave him, he was sure of that. If she was … maybe Sam would let him find her, bring her back to Midgard and bury her properly. 

“No, she’s still on her path,” Sam said, almost kindly. “Just a word of warning - these rooms get worse each time you use them. I wouldn’t go in again. They should be tearing them out any day now - but bureaucrats, they don’t work to anyone’s schedule.”

[kithtaehyung]

broken, pt. 1 (3tan) | myg

title: broken (pt. 1) pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series:masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: chilling conversations prolong things even further… until everything goes to hell. note: this is only one half of what was supposed to be a whole chapter! broken, pt. 2 will come out after i've had time to make it something i'm proud of. trying to rush everything out didn't do any favors, so hilariously and ironically, broken is broken up into two hahaha. warnings: language, angst, tension, yoongi’s pov is longgg, alcohol consumption, tobacco mentions, bro🥲, yoongi in the studio😩, the studio boys make another appearance👀, …someone else makes their first appearance👀👀, scuffles, tense situations, did i say angst?, water bottles get their own warning, long hair yoongi, basketball yoongi🫠, crying, bro a ha ha, jimin has tats and he’s not afraid to show them, the chains stay on(???), …bad boy yoongi😀👍, honestly he is on another level of warning here don’t perceive me💀, the fluff is fluffing here like what, backstory we’ve been waiting for😗, yoongi on the phone, hand holding :’)), kissing :’)), oh god the kissing❤️‍🩹, there’s just a lot in both parts i'm sorry y'all playlist: broken (lp) drop date: dec 3rd, 2023, 4:00pm est word count: ...19.1k 🚶‍♀️

-

-

Words abandon you.

They stand far from your form, pitying observers of your decaying state in front of the man you’ve been lying to. At once, you feel completely alone, not even Yoongi’s lingering presence helping when those eyes are piercing through time and space. Everything you’ve experienced over the past two years slings across your vision, from the first time you left your house in the pouring rain to get to Yoongi’s, to the car ride back you just took with his kiss still on your lips. 

All of those moments shattering into dust around your heels. 

Your feet make lines in them when you move to close the front door, something leaving your mouth before you can judge if it makes sense, “About what?” 

Zero sense. Absolute zero sense. Which your brother has absolute zero patience for. The drone in his question hits you like a punch to the gut, “Really.” 

“Just out late, is all,” you grumble, trying your best to not acknowledge an atmosphere so tense it’s almost crowded. “Jimin had another party, remember?” 

“Course I do.”

Huh? Wait. Why does he sound so—

“I was there.”

Dread launches up your veins, rocketing right to your heart in the middle of a pulse. He was there? You saw his car when Yoongi pulled up close to the house. He was there? When the fuck did he arrive? Oh, fuck, if he got there early enough… did he see you… and Yoongi…

No. There’s no way. Because one, Yoongi parked far down and around the corner. He made sure not to be close just in case you two could be spotted. 

With a thought you really cannot afford right now, you also assume he stayed that distance just so that he could pin you against his car. Fucking hell, focus! Upping the strength of your resolve to match cardboard, you lamely stall in your hunt for clarification, “You were?” 

“I was.” 

The watch on his wrist glints in its twist. When aggravated veins stare back at you, it’s obvious your brother is on the edge. Because he is deathly calm. “So where’d you go?” 

You blink, not having expelled a single breath since you stepped foot inside. 

Does he not know? Or does he know and he’s just waiting for you to finally spill? With all the hope in the universe, you yearn for it to be the first one. Because you cannot deal with a fallout right now. Not right after what happened with Yoongi. 

It’s just not the right time. 

“Yuri’s,” you blurt, finally kicking into gear and strategizing how you’re gonna finesse this. “She came and got me.” 

Your sibling just stands there, eyes a solid beam before he sighs at clasped wrists. 

Here it comes. He’s gonna ask why you didn’t say anything. Like he always does because for some reason you’re still not a true adult to him and he has to keep tabs on you at all times and you can’t just sneak around with his best friend in peace—

“K.” Your eyes shake once. “Just tell me next time.” 

And just like that, your brother vacates the foyer, dark dress shoes clacking as he retreats back into his room. Leaving you standing in silence. 

All the words around you just as speechless. 

Just like that, you’re gone again.

After watching you leave and wishing you didn’t have to, Yoongi shuts his door to rest ponderous thoughts on worn wood. Eyes closed and a storm on his mind’s horizon.

Just a little longer. He hopes you’ll understand. This is just something he needs. More than anything else. 

Exhausted, he peels himself from the door, meandering through the bog of his living room. Trudge, trudge, trudge to the dining table, skirting fingers along the edge and noting that it feels different than before. 

At least something in his apartment has changed for the better. 

Who would’ve thought that table would witness both an end and a beginning. That it would see the worst and best of him. If it was ever called to stand, there’s no doubt that it could recite all his failures and shortcomings. But he hopes that it would also attest to how much he’s fucking tried. 

As much as Yoongi wants to throw it out, he hasn’t. Because despite being withered to hell, all it needed to recover was the new company of a familiar face. 

And a little bit of summer rain. 

It watches as his thoughts move on, and soaks in the blues and pinks of sunrise as he crosses into the bedroom. At the feel of your lingering presence, Yoongi gnaws on his lip. 

What the fuck does he do now? The moment you leave, he wants nothing more than to have you back in his bed. It’s the one fact that he has come to fully acknowledge. Because there are many times you’ve caught him slipping. But when you’re lost to your dreams? Visibly at peace and safe under his sheets? That’s when he can’t even think straight. 

How your serenity throws him into disarray, Yoongi has no fucking clue.

But he can’t afford these feelings right now. Because how can he want you close while being the reason for this distance? Make it make sense. Don’t be a fucking hypocrite. Tsking, Yoongi once again accepts the consequences, heading to his bathroom before going back the fuck to sleep. 

Lies. Who is he kidding? There’s no way his rest will be the same without you. Especially since he doesn’t know when he’ll get to see you next. 

There is a way to remedy that. To put an end to your time apart. But Yoongi’s been so in his fucking head that it’s chaining him down and pulling taut. No matter how much he struggles, he can’t break free, and it’s driving him to the brink.

But last night? With you? Half moons mar his palms as he stands. Staring. Branding that whole memory into his heart.

After three months of questioning his existence. 

All it took was your soft hums to give him a reason. 

And you won’t ever know how much that meant to him. Not until Yoongi finally decides to tell you. Which will most likely be never. Maybe that’s why this time tears at his chest more than all the others. Maybe that’s why he stood in his doorway longer than usual. Maybe that’s why he can’t quite carry the weight in his chest.

Dumping himself on dark mountains—creations of his and your design—Yoongi buries his face in those valleys. Inhales those aromas like some hit he can live off of for however many days left he needs. 

Desperately grasping for a fading world where only you two exist. Drifting. Dreaming. Disarmed by a vibration on his nightstand.

The fuck.

Who is texting him this early. There are only a few people he has notifications on for wait it’s probably you saying you’re home.

Peeling himself off the sheets with a groan, Yoongi simply shifts his upper body to reach for his phone, squinty-eyed as he checks his screen.

And he doesn’t see your name.

Dumbass: 1 New Message

But your brother’s.

What the hell does he—

Dumbass [07:30]: We need to talk.

…Shit.

Yoongi grips his phone in panic, ice water streaming through his veins and mind set ablaze with potential scenarios.

He’s awake. You went home. And he’s awake. Fuck, did anything happen? Did you say anything? What are the chances this text means he found everything out? 

Shit. 

Does Yoongi answer now? Or does he sleep and pretend that this is just a text and isn’t a problem at all? Think. Your brother may not even be referencing you, or him. Right? It could be something completely different. 

Why can’t he fucking move? 

Every regret Yoongi’s kept at bay floods his brain, crashing into assumptions of your mental state and creating a massive whirlpool of dread. Just answer. Don’t answer. Just answer. Don’t fucking answer. Suddenly, another alert lights his home screen and it’s a call oh fuck—wait… It’s Jungkook? 

Why not. Sure. What’s one more issue. 

Picking up, Yoongi runs hard fingers through his hair as he answers.

“Hey, you coming?”

“Huh?”

“We have that session in thirty.”

The what. The session? Oh, fuck. The session. Yoongi completely forgot they had a recording booked today because they were so hyped last night to get a date for the release party shit. Vacating his bed, Yoongi answers with a low, “Yeah, I’ll be there.” 

“Yeah, don’t be late. It’s those guys from before.” 

Fuck, it’s that one. The dudes that stopped by the studio just as things were wrapping up, shocking everyone when they scheduled some time. Highly successful musicians and performers booking something with a no name studio? Things are rolling in the right direction and coming along fast. 

But as things go. If they don’t take this shit seriously, everything can crash just as quickly.

“Heading out,” Yoongi finally says as he yanks a hoodie from his closet, and a loud vibration against his ear makes him flinch. 

Dumbass [7:40]: Heading over

Fuck!

“You okay?” 

“Shit, yeah.” Yoongi grips soft material before his phone hits his desk with a thump. Hastily dressing, he grunts, “Maybe. Might be like two minutes late.” 

“Nah, come now.” 

He’s heading over? Your brother? If that’s the case, there’s no way he doesn’t know. 

Fuck, relax. Don’t overthink. If anything, there wouldn’t have even been a heads-up. Yoongi figures he’d just find out as soon as he’s thrown against a wall. Or the ground. Or right onto his coffee table that this very guy helped pick out. Shit, he needs to know but he doesn’t wanna find out. 

But nevermind him. Are you okay? Swiping his device, Yoongi quickly types a text before fast-walking out of his room, going on autopilot when he assures into his receiver, “I’ll get there.” 

Yoongi [7:42]: Going to the studio

“On time? You better!”

Goddamn, he’s juggling too much right now. 

As Yoongi breaks into the dining room, he hears a rustling on the line before other voices jut through the speaker. Sounds like Hobi and Joon are already there, and the next thing said further spikes his stress level another peak, 

“We’re already cutting it close with the prep.” 

Fucking hell, the prep. The mics, the tracks, the setup. They forgot to do all of it. Something inside of him starts snarling and almost pounces through the phone, “Fuck, we should’ve been ready already.” 

“Shit, I know.” 

“We can’t keep doing this.” 

“Dude, relax, I get it.” 

“Do you? Cus this is… Fuck.” 

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll get it done but it’s gonna be tight. Hey, where’s the… Damn it, what’s it called?”

Frustrated and rummaging through his pantry, Yoongi knows he sure as hell didn’t think about anything else as soon as he heard you crying on the line. If he had remembered while leaving the studio, he could’ve spared a brain cell to rush everyone back in. “The what.” 

“The… The overhead mic for the drums.” 

Of course, he’d repeat every decision he made last night. Over, and over, and over again. But any of them should’ve remembered this step before leaving, which pisses him off. The studio’s lack of experience is showing and it’s making him nervous. 

And Yoongi still doesn’t know what’s going on with his best friend. 

“We need two overheads for drums,” he corrects while swiping a water bottle from the counter. And he’s about to rattle off where they are when he feels another long buzz. 

Dumbass: Incoming Call 

Of fucking course. 

Mind whirring so hard he can feel steam, Yoongi quickly recalls where the mics are, “They’re somewhere in the back by the amps, but I gotta take this so I’ll see y’all there.” 

“Wait, where are the—”

Nope. Kook’s just gonna have to figure out whatever he’s asking on his own. Switching calls, Yoongi answers while opening his door, hastily putting out the food and water he grabbed from the kitchen. 

“Hey.” Fuck, is his voice shaking? What the hell is he gonna be faced with in the next few seconds? Can he freeze time and rewind and keep last night on repeat? “I’m about to head out.” 

“Don’t leave yet, I’m coming.” 

“No, just”—Yoongi dashes back inside before grabbing his wallet and keys from the bar—“You good? I can’t be late.” 

“Don’t lie. Y’all are done, right?” 

Don’t lie. Yoongi feels like hurling. 

“We got another project,” he huffs as he meets sunrise again, blazing a trail through his corridor and rounding the corner to his car. “A band’s coming in for a session.”

“Shit.”

There’s a pause on the line. And it’s the first bit of silence Yoongi’s had since he got the first bone-chilling text. Is his secret safe? Are you okay? Should he work extra late and run from a problem yet again? He’s very good at that. Running. If there was a medal for distance ran from issues, he’d be on the podium for both gold and silver.

“Okay, fine.” 

Relief is temporary. This could just be him biding his time in order to figure out what to do. Or maybe he truly doesn’t know what’s going on and Yoongi has a bit more uninterrupted time with you. 

Delusion is a great place to stay.

In any case, his friend’s behavior is alarming. What’s he doing up this early? And why is he wanting to swing by so bad if not to slice him into tiny pieces? Nerves slow on the downslope, Yoongi shuts his car door and lends his ear, “But serious, are you okay?”

“I just… Tch. I can’t even say it.”

He lets his friend go through a series of small sounds on the line, pulling out of the lot and hitting the road with tire squeaks. “What’s up,” he finally pushes, looking sideways and remembering the car ride home. 

There was no way Yoongi was gonna say no to you. He didn’t in this universe, and he’d bet his whole life he doesn’t in any other one, either. Not when your wings looked like you hadn’t used them in months.    

Pained, Yoongi hopes you’re completely fine and sleeping. Tucked away in a bed that captured part of his heart, visiting him in your dreams so that some version of him can be at your side. 

“Everything, Yoong.” 

But, as it so starkly turns out, he has to deal with reality. And with the fact that you’re just as far away as you were before last night. Maybe even further out of reach. 

So, so far away. 

“There’s a ton of shit, but. Fuck. Guess we’ll have to wait.”

Right now, deal with the studio prep and get through the session that will probably take awhile. After that, meet up with your brother and hope to god he doesn’t know. “K.”

“Just lemme know when you get back.”

Then, when all of that is done, Yoongi will be alone. Staring into the night and trying his hardest not to give up on himself again. “Yeah, I will.” 

“No running.”

“K.”

When the call ends, Yoongi lets out the harshest breath he’s ever let out in his life. Hoping you went right to sleep without dealing with any of that. 

“How did that sound?” 

Looking into the recording room, Yoongi raises a thumbs up as Hoseok clicks back to the beginning of the track. At their side, Namjoon hits a button on the console before speaking into a microphone, “Y’all wanna come hear it?” 

“We can move on. Wanna get the doubling done.” 

Huh? They’re gonna move onto vocal doubling already? With a few blinks, Yoongi think it’d be better if they—

“Okay!” Jungkook agrees from the couch, cutting out any other thoughts. “If any of you need adjustments, let us know.” 

“Yeah, actually, can one of you come switch this out?” 

Joon throws a suggestion over his shoulder, but Yoongi is already heading for the booth before his name is even mentioned. 

Get everything done smooth. Stay disciplined. Be professional, goddamn it.

Entering the soundproofed room will always make him want to occupy the mic instead. That feeling hasn’t gone away, and there have been countless nights where he’s spent time just sitting in this very space, visualizing what it would be like to work on this side of the glass someday. Deep down, Yoongi knows he could be somebody. But imposter syndrome runs deep. 

Avoiding cables strewn about the room, he offers his hands without a word, taking a guitar from the lead singer and making his leave—

“Hey.” He turns. “You’re good.” 

What? Where the hell did that come from? Did he even hear this guy right or was he just daydreaming again? Yoongi’s so thrown he can only stare with question marks for eyes. 

Amused, the singer simply points to the side of his beaming countenance. “You have an ear.” 

Huh. How the hell can this dude tell? All Yoongi’s done is indicate if a recording take was good or not, and given a few minuscule suggestions to the keyboardist and guitarist—instruments he’s well-versed in. 

Yet again, he’s so in his head that the man outright laughs, “Relax! You can talk to us like normal, you know. None of us care about etiquette shit.” 

“Shit, my bad,” Yoongi finally responds, instrument in his hands proving a little lighter. “Thanks.” 

“Of course.” Swishing long bangs to the side, the performer rests a hand on his hip. “We’re open to anything. We’d just tell you if your opinion sucks.” 

Eyes creasing with his lips, Yoongi puffs out a laugh. 

“Kidding. Only a little.”

Even though these people are world-renowned, they’re the first humble group to run through the studio. Everyone else has been either cocky, standoffish, or super opinionated, which made for unproductive hours.

Yoongi likes this change of pace. His shoulders start to feel composed, less scrunched than they had been since you left his place this morning. Comforted, he looks down at the guitar in his fingers.

Choosing not to say what he wants to. 

Should he? Nah. These guys know what they’re doing. Despite the nice offer to speak up, it’s not his place. Far from it. 

…But what would you tell him to do? What would you be proud of?

Committed to his answer, Yoongi grips the neck and decides without another thought, 

“Do the chorus again.” 

The whole studio stills. But all he’s looking at is the man in front of him, shaking his head when they ask, “Same way?” 

“Uhm. No.” As he hands the guitar back, Yoongi wordlessly checks if he can see the sheet music. When given the go-ahead, he scans the lines before pointing out a passage to note, 

“Mm. Here. Vocals are fine as is, but. Ride the build-up quicker and hit the next chord after a bit longer.” When he stops, he has to fight to ignore the eyes on him. There’s no doubt that his extended time in the recording room is being questioned, and his hand movements probably make him look stupid. “It’ll keep in time but hit harder.” 

Done. He said it. 

And the response that follows puts complete silence to shame. 

Instantly self-conscious, Yoongi swears he can hear Hobi’s pants shift in the control room through two closed doors shit he took it too far. Fuck, if these guys walk out now the studio is done for and he’ll be the only reason why—

“Well, goddamn. Let’s try that then.” 

Huh. They’re gonna take that? 

As he steps away, Yoongi feels slightly awkward doused in attention. Yeah, expressions seem like looks of approval, but they could just be polite. 

The man hums the chorus with Yoongi’s notes in mind, and his eyebrows tick a bit before he addresses the others in the room, “You heard him?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Yeah, we can try that.”

“Why didn’t you think of that, Woosung?”

Yoongi can’t keep his amusement under wraps as the singer laughs, addressing his keyboardist with a grin, “Damn, not even Sammy? Straight to Woosung, huh.”

“Sammy would’ve thought of it.”

Another bout of mirth spreads joy around the recording booth, and Yoongi shares a look with the singer before they both nod. 

“Let’s see how it sounds.” 

“K.”

Proud and adrenaline-filled, he turns to walk back to the door, head so buzzed he doesn’t know what to do. But when Yoongi can’t see into the control room anymore, he misses a stare through the glass.

A stare that lingers on him just a little too long. 

The rest of the session goes smooth, and Yoongi’s relieved that they haven’t asked him for anything else. 

After all. He doesn’t wanna push it, or step on Jungkook’s toes. What happened in the recording room only went down because you would have scolded him for not seizing that moment. And the suggestion he gave was lauded after the next take.

It was the first time since you kissed him goodbye that he felt a healthy pulse in his chest. Despite the chaos of the morning, amid the thoughts and worries penetrating his brain, you reached out and kept him steady in just the right moment. 

Fuck being his good luck charm. You give guardian angels shame and you don’t even know it. 

“Okay, we’ll take ten after this.”

Jungkook holds up an arm while agreeing, “Okay! We’ll save what we got!” 

Yoongi’s scanning the tracks when he feels hovering over his shoulder, and he already knows it’s the kid without looking. “Sup.”

“Nothing.”

“You sure.”

At this, Jungkook pauses before he sighs. “Yeah, it’s nothing,” he clearly lies. 

But Yoongi will let him figure out whether to run with that or not. He seems a little bothered about something, and it very well could be what happened in the booth. This is work, and they’re both adults. If he wants to talk about something, Yoongi will gladly have that conversation. 

Suddenly, a vibration erupts in his hoodie pocket, and his phone is fished out without him even thinking. 

Hustler: Incoming C—

Shit. You wouldn’t call him at work unless it’s urgent. Which is quickly throwing any possible theories about your brother not knowing out the window. 

But fuck, he can’t answer yet. There’s no way. Not only is he in very close range to someone you don’t wanna speak to right now, but he’d get blasted for being on his phone during a session. Hoping you can wait just two more minutes, Yoongi turns the buzzing off within his hoodie pocket, anxiously waiting for the take to start. 

Hoping to everything that Jungkook didn’t happen to see what was on his screen. 

As soon as everyone looks pleased—three takes and thirty minutes later—Yoongi quickly excuses himself from the control room. His head practically overheats on the way out back, but the gust of morning breeze serves to soothe it some. 

It’s been chilly lately. A bit grey. But whatever the weather has been outside, it’s no match for the atmosphere of his brain. 

Pulling his hood over hair he hasn’t cut in months, Yoongi looks around before ringing you up. Hoping that you’re good and didn’t have to go through a version of his panic earlier. 

Hustler: Outgoing Call 

Straight to voicemail? Shit.

Hustler: Outgoing Call

Fuck, still voicemail. Are you okay? On the phone with someone else? Did your brother actually end up finding out and things are worse than he thought? Clutching his phone, Yoongi glances up while giving it slight shakes, body on alert while deciding what the hell to do now. 

Maybe he can at least text you to ask what the hell happened this morning? Typing. Erasing. Retyping. Retrying. 

Yoongi [9:02]: Got a session today, doll. 

That’s what he had to say? That won’t do you any good, the fuck? Berating himself with a sigh, he takes a few steps while texting a follow-up. 

Yoongi [9:03]: Still going, but are you good?

Staring, it takes him a few seconds to decide if this is enough. If these two messages are gonna suffice to help him figure out what the hell he’s getting into later. 

It’s not. There’s too much he needs to know. 

Hustler: Outgoing Call 

When it doesn’t ring a third time, Yoongi gives up, cursing before turning and raking his hood off in distress.

Only to see Woosung materializing out of nowhere—relaxed, silent, and taking a drag. 

Shit. How much of that did he witness?

“Been there,” the man empathizes, blowing out smoke into crisp morning. After a swell of early traffic fills the alleyway, he continues, “In trouble?”

Great. With a sound of dejection, Yoongi answers to a stack of random boxes, “Might be.” 

“Don’t wanna commit anymore?” 

“I do,” Yoongi blurts without hesitation, looking right into eyes that have seen plenty more than he has. 

And it’s the first time he’s admitted anything out loud. To a stranger miles above him in status, no less. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he clarifies, “It’s just… There’s something I need to do first.” 

Wait a sec. Why the fuck is he talking about this so freely? This isn’t something he does. Privacy is practically his brand. So why is it easy to talk to this guy? It’s him, for fuck’s sake. But what’s done is done. Woosung probably won’t even remember this conversation even happened, or is already annoyed as hell he didn’t get a good read on him. 

To Yoongi’s surprise, his alley companion speaks again after another white wisp. “Mmm… Something you need to do?”

Well. Yoongi walked right into this one. Swallowing and knowing he can’t dip out, he sighs, “Some shit I wanna finish.” The smell of tobacco wafts around him when he looks at dulled skies. “Shit I need to get through.” 

An amused hum floats through empty space. “Been there, too.” 

Yoongi slowly turns to regard his client, watching as Woosung becomes very interested in wet concrete.

What kind of shit has this guy seen? Surely, he could have had some of the same experiences. The slight droop in his confident shoulders tells enough. But would he understand the exact same situation? 

No. At least, Yoongi hopes not. Quite fucking frankly, he hopes no one has had to go through the same shit that he has. 

“Let me know if you ever need help,” Woosung offers, shocking Yoongi to the point of speechlessness. As he drops his cigarette to squash it out, he runs a hand through wild dark locks. “We’ll be around again.” 

Wait. What? Yoongi can only blink. “Serious?”

“Yeah.” The man looks down the outside corridor, watching as people start heading to their jobs through a central courtyard. “Got a good feeling about this place.”

What does he mean by that. What can Woosung possibly mean by that what does he mean they’ll be back? To the studio? To the city? What’s happening. Yoongi simply lets a pause prevail before offering the only response he’s capable of,

“It’s the food next door, huh.”

That laugh has got to be top five in the world. Not as great as yours, but definitely up there in terms of what makes Yoongi feel like things are alright. Not that he’d ever admit that shit to anyone. Ever.

Mercifully, the conversation moves away from risky topics. Instead, there are talks about a tour one is planning for his band’s album, mixed in with mentions of equipment the other is saving up for. Then the rest isn’t about music at all.

Finally, it’s time for them to continue recording, so they know to head back inside. “Don’t wait,” Woosung advises as he turns on his heel. 

And Yoongi can only stare somewhere else. 

“If there’s something you need to get through...” 

Stare, and stare, and stare some more.

“Hit it until it breaks.”

Because he’s already aware. More than anyone.

As Woosung shuts the back door, Yoongi’s gaze finds the crushed cigarette at his side. Another reminder of how things were.

And a reminder that he’s still a fucking coward.

Hours later, Yoongi’s car awaits him in the lot. 

And when he realizes that you still haven’t responded, he shuts his door just a little too hard. 

Whenever his friend comes over for drinks, it’s always the same routine. 

Both of them don’t talk much, instead opting for a quiet greeting before someone dumps themselves on the couch while the other grabs a bottle and cups in the kitchen. As soon as glasses are filled, conversation sparks as a game plays out on tv—or a sportscasting show if nothing interesting is airing. 

But this time? None of it happens that way. Because when Yoongi opens his door, he’s pinned with a shadowed visage he's only seen piercing through others. 

And the whole arctic starts to seep into his bloodstream.

Raising a brow and giving space is his chosen course of action. Best to not disturb a beast if they’re already ready to lunge.

And his friend eyes him as he stalks into the house, scanning around in search of something—living room, dining table, even looking into the open doorway of the bedroom. 

Fuck. Relax. Don’t assume anything until things are on the table. Yoongi has got to pretend like tonight is normal and fine and that he’s obviously and positively not seeing and sleeping with his friend’s little sister. 

And that he most definitely didn’t eat you out where your brother is sitting now motherfucker he needs a drink. Or a smoke. Or both with a plane ticket out of the whole country. 

At least the television is already on. If it wasn’t for that ambiance, Yoongi’s head would be jam packed with every goddamn sound known to man. Including the adorable way you talk in your sleep, and how you strain so beautifully when you come fuck, fuck, fuck! Focus. 

What’s happened has happened. And what’s going to happen will happen. Whether it’s a consequence of his actions, or nothing to do with any of this at all. 

But when faced with everything smushing together at once? Yoongi will probably need to be revived no matter what the outcome. This is the most stressed out he’s been in years. 

Not only that, but his stress is more than obvious. Even now in the kitchen, he’s scanning through his bottles with a finger—an action he’s never done while sober since the choices are always predictable. Holy shit, he needs to pull it together. 

Has he ever been this panicked? Does he appear just as chaotic and disjointed as he feels? This is too new. This is very new and if he doesn’t regain control there’s no telling where this foreign road leads.

But the silence still remains as he turns. And apparently the road hits a dead end at his dining table. Since it’s occupied rather than the living room sofa. 

Sighing, Yoongi ambles to his friend, placing everything down with clinks and ignoring the way his furniture is getting burned through. Both whisky’s are ready. Yoongi’s already holding his. And your brother still hasn’t moved a muscle. Honestly, what the fuck is going on with—

“I went to Jimin’s last night.”

…What. 

Don’t react. He’s staring. Don’t fucking react. Take a drink. A sip. Pick up the goddamn glass. Doing so, Yoongi slowly brings the liquid to his lips, not quite following his own instructions as he asks behind a barrier, “How was it.”

His question is met with a laugh that isn’t funny at all. The kind that drags a finger along the chalkboard of your soul. And the next question directed his way pulverizes Yoongi’s denial,

“Care to share what’s been going on?”

He’s sick. Beyond sick. The room is closing in and closing in too fucking fast. Shit shit shit. There’s no way he saw. No fucking way. He parked down the street he deliberately stopped as far away as possible and you saw your brother’s car in your driveway. Did he get there after you left? And didn’t see you while also not hearing from hi—

“Why her, Yoong? Hmm?”

Fuck! 

Yoongi can’t feel the air in his lungs. Because there isn’t any. Just a barren wasteland of shriveled futures and cracks in the foundation of every relationship he’s had in his whole life. The millisecond before a crash and only his wheels spinning and spinning and spinning—

Your brother shoots out of the chair, making the glass in Yoongi’s palm feel infinitely more solid.

“I mean, fuck! After all the shit we’ve been through? You’re gonna go back to her?”

All the—shit, he can’t even—back to? Back to you? What does he mean by back to you? Does he know about the first ti—

Volcanic, the man interrogating paces beside the dining table. Back and forth, back and forth. A pause. Back and forth.

And Yoongi still feels frozen in time. Is this it? Is this when things come crashing down? Glass suspends in midair all around him; an orchestra trembles beneath his feet, waiting for the moment to rip into his rib cage with swift strokes and a flourish as he’s taken down. 

“Can’t fucking believe you.”

When Yoongi finally chooses to speak, what comes out only feels like a horrible attempt more than anything else, “Listen, it’s my fau—”

“What, you just decided to fuck that bitch again? Couldn’t stay away?”

Oh, fuck that. 

Wood scrapes into flooring as Yoongi vacates his chair, hard feet planted as he gets into the face of his best friend, his confidant, his day one. Only to speak so low only them two can hear, “How bout you use your fucking words already and I’ll tell you.”

“Yeah? Is that what you want?” They are only a breath apart. But no one’s going anywhere now. “Need me to spell it out for that fuckass brain of yours—”

“Say it—”

“Stop fucking your ex, dude!”

Yoongi’s back connects with the chair behind him, palms flinging back to brace himself through a jolt of pain. And his eyes go so wide they stretch at the edges.

…Motherfucker, what?

Your brother is not done in the slightest, but Yoongi can only stare as he’s being berated for something that is one-hundred percent news to him, too. 

“Everyone was happy when you finally left. All of us. Only for you to go and, what, get back with her?”

Nothing makes sense. This isn’t about you? Yoongi’s heart can’t even reset to start beating again. Everything is coming as shock after shock and there’s no way he can keep up at this pace.

His ex? Her? Where the fuck did that come from and why the hell does he of all people think that’s actually true?

“If you’re gonna be with her, you can count me out.” 

No. Never again. That would never, ever happen again. “The fuck are you even saying—”

“I’m not fucking joking, Yoong. If you’re seriously back with her then—”

“Look, I don’t know what the fuck you heard, but I’m not.”

“So everything I heard was a lie?”

“Huh?”

“He told me!”

He—who? Who the fuck would say that? And when how what the fuck and why? Yoongi stares, chest heaving with every inhale and exhale. Because he has a choice to make. Either he trudges into this lie and rubs sludge all over his bones, or he denies it like he wants because it’s not fucking true.

What the actual fuck. It’s already bad enough that someone sent this along the rumor mill. And it’s making him sick thinking about all the implications surrounding it. But it’s even worse that his best friend believes it so easily. He’s coming at him so quick without even asking if it’s true. 

The only silver lining—the singular bright spot in this hellhole—is that he can use it as an out. An out to protect you from wrath and further fury from your older sibling because if you were the rumor? He’d be laid flat on his floor next to a broken dining set.

“You gonna say anything or what?” 

Truthfully, Yoongi feels queasy knowing what he’s gonna do. But it’s for you. You, you, you. And for that, Yoongi will do anything. 

Even if it kills him.

“No, I, umm…” 

“No?” 

Just hurry up and fucking do it. 

Resigned, Yoongi lets the memories flood through. Every moment that’s haunted him from a distance charges forward as he surrenders to the pain of his past. “It’s—” Fuck, he can’t even begin to lie, head thundering, thundering, striking his heart in the rain. “I...” 

His friend halts. Tense before his shoulders fall back to normal. “You what.”

What the fuck does Yoongi do? What can he say when his brain is only firing up to beg him to run? Technically, he doesn’t have to say anything. He really doesn’t. But he can deflect. It’s what he’s best at, after all. He’s been doing it to you and he will do it again.

In the most defeated voice he can muster, Yoongi comes up with something that will placate his friend while still prolonging this horrid fib, “You don’t have to worry about that anymore.” 

“You sure?”

It’s true. More true than anything. “It’s over now.” 

A century passes. Then another. Then another. Every piece of furniture waits in silence as the television seeps back into his ears. 

Then his friend sighs, not looking back as he slumps into the same chair that you always occupy. And Yoongi hopes his sigh of conflicted relief isn’t witnessed. 

Following suit, he rubs his lower back before taking his regular seat again, not giving any shits about waiting to drink. 

His ex? 

As his throat warms, Yoongi starts to harden the more memories keep crashing into each other like jagged waves fuck he really hates how she was brought into this he swears as soon as he figures out who said this he is going to—

“Sorry.” Haze shattered, he lifts his gaze. “I’m so fucking stressed and hearing that last night just…”

“It’s done.” Yoongi reaches for the thick bottle, pouring more into his glencairn. Wanting to talk about literally anything else, he diverts the conversation, “But something else is up with you so say it.”

It works. The man inhales deep, rubbing his face with weary hands. When he rests elbows on wood, he finally talks about other things clouding his mind,

“Work is shit,” he groans downward. “They’re having me travel again.” 

“Domestic?”

“Yeah. But for longer. And I don’t…” Tapering off, he sits back, slowly playing with his glass. As if he doesn’t want to mention the next problem. 

When he finally does, Yoongi wholeheartedly understands the hesitation, “I dunno know what’s going on with my sister.”

Oh. Fuck, how the hell does he respond? Keeping his cool, Yoongi just repeats the question, taking out his phone and pretending to check his screen. “Your sister?”

“Yeah.” A sigh is sandwiched between explanations. “The past few months, I feel like.. They haven’t really been themselves.” 

A sudden crack splits him through.

“Not laughing. Not eating as much. Like even when they sound happy, I can tell it’s a front.. I don’t know.” 

The clunk of his phone hits the table very hard. 

No. No, no, no. Your texts have been so positive. So encouraging. Other than a few sad calls, you’ve been happy to hear from him just as he had been relieved to hear from you. Even in the car, you must’ve put your feelings lightly. 

Your wings. You’ve been enduring all that? For him? Yoongi’s heart rears its head, snagging one of his breaths and slamming both lungs into the floor.

And hatred paints his heart another shade darker.

“They finally went out last night, but. Didn’t come back until this morning.” Running rigid hands through his head, the man looks so pained. So helpless. “Same clothes, dude.” 

And Yoongi can only stare, feigning nonchalance but raging and tearing himself apart inside. “Mm.”

“I just… I know I suck at this, but. I don’t know what the hell to do. Or if I even do anything.” Your brother finally takes a swig, wincing at how much ethanol coats his tongue. 

Relax, relax, relax. As much as he wants to erupt on himself right now, Yoongi has to stay calm.

Not like he doesn’t know how. That’s usually how he operates, anyway. It’s hard to tell he’s struggling unless you look deep enough. And almost no one thinks to do so because his surface is all they want. 

But right now? He doesn’t think he can sequester this anger any longer. At him, his past, and his stupid present decisions. 

“Like I tried to say something but I just.. I felt like if I push too hard, they’re gonna shut down even more. Ever since that fight with Kook, it’s like..” 

Seeing an opening and keeping a neutral stance, Yoongi asks the most ironic question to date, “Are they seeing someone?”

At this, his friend shakes his head, eyes glued to dark amber liquid. When he answers, all the breaths in the world cut at once, 

“I think she feels all alone.” 

This hit is the strongest. Straight to the gut, breath stuttering and muscles clenching so hard they lock. It’s almost severe enough to affect how Yoongi feels around his eyes. 

“And it sucks not knowing what to do.”

Yoongi’s heart lurches, deflating and slipping out of the crack in his chest. Piercing on the jagged edges before slumping down onto a table that continues to judge him.  

You’re hurting. Your brother’s hurting. And it’s all his goddamn fault. Why can’t he just break free and admit shit? Why is he still haunted by the phantoms of his past? Why is he still so fucking weak? It’s clear that he hurt you. For months. You’ve been cheering for him that whole time while you’ve been visibly broken and it’s all because of his dumbass decision to—

“I’m heading out again.”

Yoongi raises his eyes. Because he can’t seem to move anything else. “When.”

Your older sibling takes a slower, more measured sip. Looking towards the channel playing in the living room, he answers, “After our game. Dinner Friday, game on Saturday, fly out Sunday.” 

“Mm. We’ll still be here,” Yoongi assures, keeping things as normal and neutral as he can. “Just like last time.”

How ironic. How hypocritical. He hasn’t been there for you in the slightest so how the fuck can he say that with a straight face. 

“Thanks. I know it’s a lot for y’all but..”

Not at all. Yoongi is more determined than ever to make everything up to you. It’s the least he can do after putting you through something he decided on the fly. 

On the run.

“Don’t worry about that,” he vows into his drink. Honestly, if you’ve been having second thoughts about this whole thing, he doesn’t blame you. Absolutely doesn’t blame you if you realize you’re better than this. But Yoongi’s at least gonna apologize in every single way he can. As soon as he possibly can. “We got it.” 

“K.” The man finishes his glass and goes to pour more. “Did I ever mention that she liked you?”

Now what— Coughing on whisky is a bitch and a half. Hitting his chest while both eyes squint from burn, Yoongi croaks out his exact thoughts, “What.”

At this, his friend finally breaks into his regular smile. Setting the bottle down with a hollow clunk, he points, “Don’t you fucking get any ideas. Jimin’s already on my shit list.” He scoffs out a laugh. “But it was obvious when we were younger.”

And Yoongi can only cough some more. He shakes his head through the sting, swallowing and trying to compose himself. He doesn’t know where the hell that came from, but he hopes your brother will understand when all is said and done. Even though he’s been the reason you’ve been so…

Yoongi almost fucking confesses.

“You’re a good person,” he blurts instead. Whether the guilt or last cough pushed it out, that’s still on the table. “You don’t suck at what you think you do.”

“You think so?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

The hell? Does this dude really not see how successful he is? How much he’s overcome and conquered and sacrificed? Truthfully, Yoongi wouldn’t be where he is today if not for your brother. Him. Jimin. You. Anybody. Which is what makes this ongoing betrayal… 

Unprecedented.  

“You’re the best out of all of us.” 

Your brother finally looks at him, though Yoongi isn’t doing the same. But he can still tell when a fist is held out for him to bump, so he does.

And they both share a drink in respectful silence. 

After a moment of them watching the tv, the man finally sighs. “Guess we did shape up pretty nice.” When he’s agreed with, he keeps going with a grin. “We were so fucking bad.”

Yoongi can only chuckle, much better memories fighting off the terrors. “Old me was a little shit.”

“You still are.”

“Says you!”

“I still am, too!”

Laughs precede big swigs of whisky and comfortable quiet. Bit by bit, shoulders start to relax with the surrounding air, and Yoongi lazily releases tension in his neck. 

After a few more pours, your brother decides to call it, using the bathroom before announcing that he’s gonna head out. Yoongi gets up from his chair to clasp hands goodbye, not expecting to hear one more plea,

“Break up with her, Yoong.” 

Shit. He sighs, and their conversation continues from the dining table to the front door. “It’s not like that.” 

“Yeah?” 

“It’s over now.” 

“For good?” As they stop beside the coat closet, your brother pins him with a look. “I was about to drive over and break down the door.”

Even though Yoongi shares a tsk with him, he can’t help but imagine what could’ve happened if that was the case. And it sends an unwanted jolt of chills. 

“Serious. I’m gonna keep saying this, but. she was just making you miserable, dude.” He slips on his shoes, smacking his foot on the ground to push one in place. “I’m sure it was good at first, but I mean… You gotta move on. You deserve better than that.” 

Anything would be better than that. Yoongi just disagrees with the whole deserving part. “I guess.” 

“You sure it’s over?”

“Yeah,” he assures, because that is something he intends to keep true forever. “It is.” 

“Good.” Keys jingling, your sibling then points into the open area with his whole arm, seven words leaving his mouth like ice, 

“Then get rid of that fucking guitar.” 

Ah. Among all the things. Of course he would bring that up, too. Jaw working, Yoongi looks away, now assaulted by all the torturous thoughts surrounding that painful reminder and fighting them off with no success. 

Get rid of it? He’s been trying. 

For three. Fucking. Months. 

“I might.” 

“…K.” 

And his best friend departs, leaving Yoongi inside and staring at the same black spot he’s kept in the corner for years. It has mocked him as he struggles. Laughed at him whenever he’s tried to throw it out. And aside from the times he’s made you feel better stinging himself on those strings, he has accomplished nothing except letting it win.

Pissed off and doused in guilt, Yoongi yanks himself away from the door, the instrument, and everything else except for his bed.

Keeping his shadow exactly where it stands. 

Yoongi knows he needs to talk to you.

But his phone exists somewhere on the other side of his bedroom door.

And he doesn’t have the strength to go get it. 

What time is it? 

All that greets him is darkness. 

Nothing new, but darkness all the same. 

Why was she mentioned? What does that mean? 

He needs to call you. He’s lying to his best friend. 

Her? You. His sheets still smell like you. 

Inhale. Breathe. Inhale. 

He needs to call you. But he’s so, so tired. 

And the darkness pulls him back under. 

Without even telling him the time. 

Buzzing. 

Faint, gentle buzzing softly lifts Yoongi’s eyelids before a loud series of smacks causes him to rush out of bed what the fuck? 

Oh. His phone fell outside. Fucking hell, his heart’s beating way too quick for that to be the only thing that happened. 

Head in his hands, Yoongi sighs deep before making his way to the dining table. And it takes all of his strength to bend down to reach for his phone. 

Hustler: Missed Calls (6)

Dumbass: 1 Message

Hustler: 3 Messages 

Chim: 7 Messages   

Chim: Missed Calls (3) 

Holy fuck. 

With only the light of his phone illuminating the dark, Yoongi rings Jimin up. His heart’s a little disappointed it wasn’t you calling just now, but it’s probably best to stay away while his brain is so scattered and torn. 

“Oh, fuck. There you are.” 

“Mm.” 

“Don’t scare me like that, bro. I was starting to get ready to drive over—” 

“It’s fine,” he juts in. “What’s up.” 

Alright, maybe he shouldn’t be an asshole. There’s no reason to let his lingering shadow from earlier control his temper now. Jimin’s just being himself, for fuck’s sake. 

“I, umm. I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.” 

Now that’s not what Yoongi expected at all. “For what?” 

There’s another pause on the line, and his reaction is immediate when he knows for a fact Jimin is fighting back tears. 

“I… I got so drunk last night, I—And I—”

Shit. A sinking feeling starts to weigh Yoongi down, his center pulling the rest of him in like a black hole. And he doesn’t need to hear the rest of this to know what this call is about. 

“He was looking for her, Yoong, and you weren’t there, either. He had this look, I—I couldn’t think of anything else to say in the moment and I told him—”

Jimin can’t even finish his confession. And it hits right in the gut. 

Despite his perceived persona, Yoongi doesn’t like hearing people cry. At least, if they don’t deserve to or don’t deserve to be sad—or if they’re you. He could care less about the rest.

But Jimin is one of the only people that can get him like this: eyes stinging at their edges and his chest concave. In the dark, though, no one can tell. No one can see him.

So he can openly swipe at his eyes before dumping tired limbs into a chair, catching his forehead in a damp palm. 

“I’m an idiot. I’m sorry.” 

Exhaling through his nose, Yoongi tries his best to calm his emotions. Because they are still raging and it’s going to take all of him to quell this tempest. 

Jimin knows more than anyone what this means to him. To you. The time you spent apart? If it wasn’t for his friend, Yoongi may have been in a much different position. If this was the only thing Park could do, then his effort has to be acknowledged. It worked like a fucking charm.

But goddamn, Yoongi wishes Jimin thought of literally anything else. He could’ve made up some random, some fling from another city, the damn studio itself. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he finally rasps out. “It’s just been a fuckin’ day.” 

Jimin sniffles before cursing at himself and, judging by the sounds on the line, Yoongi figures he’s opening his fridge. If he reaches for soju, that would not be surprising in the least, and now that sounds like a good idea.

“Same. Gah, I just… I should’ve warned you. I didn’t know he went over there.” 

“He told you?” 

“I called him after you didn’t answer earlier.” 

“Oh. Yeah, I passed out after he left.” 

“Ah.” 

Something shuts before there’s a crisp clink on the line, validating exactly what Yoongi was thinking. 

“I really am sorry. What did you end up saying?” 

“That it’s done.” 

A hum. 

“That’s very true.” 

There’s a question that Yoongi thinks to ask. Context that he needs. But as important as this information is, Yoongi doesn’t feel like talking about it right now. Or ever. But now still counts. So he switches the conversation over to something less daunting, “Practice still on tomorrow?” 

When Jimin laughs out of surprise, it gives Yoongi the smallest kick of energy.

“Ah, someone actually ready to go for once?” 

“Yeah. The plan is to make this game quick.” 

A hearty swallow spills out of the speaker before a hum follows, 

“Mm, that reminds me. Got something that might help with that.” 

What the hell does that even mean? “Huh?” 

“I’ll bring it over tomorrow. You might find some good uses for it.”

Yoongi rubs the grogginess still clinging to his face. “All these years and you’ve never given me a straight answer.” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

“Knowing the answer.” 

At least Jimin’s back in a good mood. Or a better state than puffy-eyed and regretful. He doesn’t have to share the pain in this, too. It was an honest mistake. 

“You’ll know it when you see it.” 

“Annoying.”

“Love you, too!” 

Yoongi’s huff billows through his nose, and Jimin’s energy almost brings enough strength for him to clear the table. 

Ehh. He’ll leave it alone. He’s been pretty good at that lately, too, no matter how early or late it is in the night. What time even is it? Checking his phone, Yoongi’s brows crease when he figures that out. Why the hell are they even on a call right now? “Wait, is it really three?” 

“Huh? Yeah. I’m telling you, dude, I was getting worried.” 

He was really about to drive over? “Sorry. I really did just pass out.” 

“Mm. Well, I’m gonna go do that now.” 

“K. Same time tomorrow?” 

“Ah, a little earlier. Just so I can give this to you before everyone else shows.” 

That just makes Yoongi infinitely more curious. “Seriously, what did you get?” 

“Relax! You will like it.” 

“Chim, I swear—”

“You’ll thank me later bye!”

As soon as Jimin disappears from the line, Yoongi is left alone again.

Exactly where he always ends up. 

Exactly where he doesn’t want to be. 

But now that he’s done dealing with those notifications, Yoongi roams lidded eyes over his screen again. 

Wait. You called him six times? Fuck. What did you text? Were you wondering where he was, too? 

Hustler [20:01]: HOLY FUCK!! my phone died after i tried calling you this morning and i just fully woke up to charge it😭 he’s not home so call whenever  

Yoongi clutches his phone a little tighter. 

He very much would’ve rather been in your bed with you all day. 

That sounds like fucking bliss. 

Hustler [23:37]: tried calling but he’s home now. are you ok?? idk what’s going on with him but i think we need to be careful

Shit, Yoongi didn’t get to tell you. You’ve probably been worried about that every second you’ve been awake today. 

And he couldn’t even make it out of his goddamn room to help. 

All he comes with is worries for you. What kind of shit is this? What is he even doing? He even outright told you that you were dating only for that to be ripped from your hands for months. Why are you still giving someone like him a chance? 

Hustler [23:40]: but all i wanna do is see you

Fucking hell.

Nothing in the world can stop his heartbeat quite like you can. With that smile, or those eyes, or the simple shit like this. Not even lightning can strike him the same way. 

Despite the consistency Yoongi has with admitting his own shortcomings, and despite the way he keeps reminding himself he doesn’t deserve you…

All he wants to do is see you, too. 

You’ve been more than he ever would’ve imagined—your consideration, your intellect, your mind. And there have been times when you’d look at him as if he was the center of your galaxy. 

After all this time. All these days and nights. 

You still don’t realize that he was destined to orbit you.  

It’s been decided long before his mind was made up—at least, the part of him that doesn’t traverse the dark side. His heart had been tugging him to you ever since that rainy day, no matter where he’s drifted or which direction he’s gone in. All of them lead back into your arms. 

But just like the feeling he gets walking into the recording booth, imposter syndrome eats him alive and doubt scavenges on what’s left. 

He will never be good enough for you. One of these days, you will realize that you don’t have to settle for him. It’s good now, but you’ll only give him so many chances, which he is swiftly running through at breakneck speeds. 

How fucking stupid. Having these thoughts while wanting nothing more than to hear your voice. 

Just like everyone else, you’ll eventually be done passing through. His winter will return after your inevitable departure, all the warmth you give focused on something else that deserves it more. 

Something that isn’t broken. 

Yoongi whips his head up at the sound of buzzing, noticing thin lines of light beneath his phone on the table. 

What. No way. 

From the rapid beats inside his chest, he shoots his hopes right into the dark. 

And they burst into beautiful sparks when he reads his screen. 

Hustler: Incoming Call 

But just like the streaks of color he witnessed with you on that balcony, his brightness is short lived. Because as soon as Yoongi answers, the way your throat constricts scorches his windpipe through.

And the first thing you attempt to get through makes his eyes shut tight. 

“Are we… is this over?” 

Fuck.

“I get it, if we are. If you—if you don’t wanna do this with me anymore.” 

Fuck. Fuck everything this is not happening right now. “Hold up,” Yoongi breathes, body on full alert. “What’s going on?” 

“I thought… When you weren’t picking up, I—”

“Breathe, babe,” Yoongi softens, hating, hating, hating himself all over again. “I passed out before you called. That’s it.” 

“Oh. Shit, I really thought—”

“You would know,” he whooshes, syllables squeezed out by the mountain of regret on his back. After hearing what he put you through? Hearing how you sound now? There’s no way he can do that shit again. No more disappearing from the grid because he can’t fight himself. “You would know if I was done.” 

Your sniffle sinks the ship with his heart inside. 

“Are you? With me?” 

Yoongi folds, fingers digging through his hair and blocking it in hard chunks. The amount of things he wants to say to you could wrap the whole world before repeating. But he settles with a truth he can say out loud, 

“No way in hell, doll.” 

Please. Don’t cry. Because he can only handle feeling his eyes sting so much in one night. There’s only so much he can take before he’s grabbing his keys and speeding over—friends and brothers be damned. 

“Okay… I’m just. It’s been a day.” 

That’s okay. 

Because he’s had a day, too. 

“I don’t wanna bother you with it, though, it’s so late.” 

Please keep going. 

Please don’t leave him alone. 

“Talk to me.” 

Like a gentle stream, your recap—though not ideal—washes away the weariness from Yoongi’s eyes. Lifts the weight he bears on his shoulders, even if just a little bit. 

You’re so good at that. 

“Well. Umm. He saw me coming home this morning. And, umm. It was weird. I don’t know why but I think we have to be really careful. And ugh, it—. It sucks because he’s going on a trip soon and I don’t wanna stress him out even more but I—” 

Shit, you’ve probably been holding all of this in ever since you got up. You don’t know that your brother believes something entirely different. But of course you’d be considerate, even now. That’s just who you are.

“I, umm. I feel so fucking bad about it but I don’t wanna mess him up right now. Or maybe he knows but just won’t say it? Fuck, sorry, I’m trying not—to—”  

The phone goes mute, and Yoongi’s head suddenly weighs ten times heavier. 

“He doesn’t know, babe,” he soothes, hating how he can’t be there to comfort you with more than his word and waves in the sky. 

If he was stronger, things could be different by now. Vastly different. Vastly better. You would cry less, he knows that for damn sure. Weak, weak, weak. That’s all he fucking is. 

The only one he seems to be strong for is you. “He came over earlier.” 

“Fuck, really?” 

“Yeah.” 

You pause, seemingly to roll this information around that beautiful mouth of yours, and Yoongi has the strongest yearning to kiss all your worries right out of it. 

“What did he say?” 

Shit. You’ll just have to forgive him later. Because Yoongi chooses not to tell the whole truth. You don’t need to bear the same worries as him, anyway. They aren’t yours. He will shoulder all of those on his own. Because he’s the reason for them in the first place. “Nothing about us.” 

“Oh, thank fuck.” 

Good. Your relief is all that matters. But Yoongi still feels bad for not being able to pick himself up. You could’ve known that a lot sooner if he was stronger. If he was better. “So don’t worry, doll.” 

“Okay. What about you? Are you okay?” 

Huh? Your questions catch him completely off-guard. It’s almost comical how his first reaction goes straight to a No. But sticking to his earlier stances, he won’t bother you with any of that. There is a truth that he can admit. One that’s always true and will continue to be so. “Just wanna see you.” 

And this is when his eyes slowly shut. Don’t. Don’t cry.

“Me, too, baby.” 

Hearing that? Chipped and broken from your lips? That is another thing Yoongi can’t handle. His heart beats once before it free falls, and he clutches his phone just a little tighter. 

Fuck everything. He’s gonna find a way to do this. All of it.

“I’ll figure it out.”

“You will?”

He’ll figure out how to move mountains to make it up to both you and your brother. 

“Just a little longer.”

He has to.

“Okay.”

Neither of you deserve this. And he doesn’t deserve either of you. Truly, the only thing he deserves is to be alone. And judging by the way things are going, it’s only a matter of time before you start resenting this behavior and leave, too. 

“Thank you.”

What? Something in Yoongi flickers, and he lifts his whole head to eye his screen. 

“For putting up with me.”

Oh. Of course you’d assume you’re the issue. Seems like you need the same type of assurance that he does. Both of you the same? Who would’ve thought his bruised soul would sync up with a perfect one like yours. 

At this, he holds his breath before chuckling soft. “This has been the highlight of my day, doll,” he admits, finally breaking into a tiny smile and sitting back.

“Really?”

Wait. There was another good part of his day. But he wants to save that for when he can tell you in person. “One of them. But you’ll hear about the other one later.”

“Boo.”

Cute. Wait, isn’t it absurdly late? You have to be up for work in mere hours. It’s a miracle you reached out when you did. “Don’t you have to be up soon?”

“A ha… Yeah.” 

“What are you still talking to me for?” 

“I miss you.” 

Well. That’s not something that he expected. And your admittance being so immediate actually sends shivers down his arms. 

Yoongi can only laugh to himself. He knew he had it bad, but this feeling is something else. “Don’t do that.” 

“Don’t do what? Miss you? Yeah, right.”  

God. You’re getting too fucking good at this. He’s gotta fight back or else his throne will be taken before he even sees you again. “Just a bad night to say it, doll.” 

“Why?” 

Perfect. “Cus I’m willing to get in the car.” 

“Fuck.” 

Yoongi happily lets his mouth slant when you groan, chuckling into the receiver and getting up to clear the table. When he flicks on the kitchen light, he doubles down, “Wanna try again?” 

He knows you’re gonna say no. Even though your brother doesn’t know, it’s definitely not a proper time to sneak you out—as much as he fucking wants to. Fuck, to be the one sneaking you out of your house… Maybe there’s another version of you both out there that’s done it. A version of him watching a version of you creeping out to his car, face shining in nightfall and etching a permanent smile into his heart.

“I hate you.” 

Yoongi should’ve expected that. The sudden laugh that flings out into his liquor cabinet ricochets off multiple bottles, and he shuts it while sporting a wide grin. “That’s better.” 

“Ha ha.” 

You’re smiling, too. Cute ass. Just the fact that he knows makes him excited for the future, and he’s determined to make it count. Make it worth it. You deserve every goddamn apology he can give. “I miss you, too, babe,” he whispers, grabbing the glasses from the table to wash in his sink. 

“Nu uh! You hate me, too.” 

Wait. Did you…

Did you just pout? 

Hell no, that’s outright cheating. That’s when Yoongi will never be able to win. Putting the phone down, he promptly states his new plan into a basin, “Nah, I’m going to sleep.” 

“Wait, huh? Why!” 

“Nothing.” 

“I swear to god—” 

“Nothing at all,” Yoongi lies, voice straight as he can muster while hot water runs over his hands. It’s a good kind of sting as his chilled skin adjusts, and he cleans one glass before he hears you ask in his ear, 

“Getting ready for bed? Or are you in the kitchen?” 

The smallest smile graces his face. “Guess.” 

“Kitchen.” 

The hell? “How’d you know?” 

“You’re always in there.” 

Can’t deny that. The glasses are both set to dry in the dishwasher as Yoongi’s amusement dies down, and his next comment flows out before he can think much of it, “You like to keep me in here.” 

“It does seem to be where we end up, huh?” 

“It does.” Which is fine by him. He’ll never forget all the times you’ve been in here. Your laughter and your storms, he will remember them all. 

“The world said let them cook.” 

Your giggles will be the fucking end of him one day. Fuck, he can’t wait to see you. He may even find a way to see you before the game. 

But for now, Yoongi will figure out how to talk to you, every day, no matter what. Texts, calls, whatever the fuck. The effort has got to show from now on. No more of this dark headspace shit. He needs to try harder and figure it out faster. For you. 

“Go to sleep, doll,” he huffs with full cheeks. 

After another adorable batch of sounds, you rustle on the line before sighing, 

“You better sleep, too.”

“I will.” 

With a blink, Yoongi notices two things. One, he just cleared his table and cleaned up without even thinking. And two, despite feeling like absolute shit the entire day and dreading the coming of night, falling asleep won’t be an issue. 

Because of you. It’s always you. 

Maybe there’s a way out. Maybe he can finally face it all and come out on the other side. “Talk to you tomorrow, babe.”

“I’d like that. And you’re sure he doesn’t know?”

Just like that, the demons are knocking again. Closing his eyes, Yoongi murmurs into the receiver, “I’m sure.” 

There will come a time when he will tell you. But that will be way in the future, when he is ready. For now, you’ll just have to trust that he’s telling the truth. Not the whole truth, but enough for it to calm your nerves. 

“Okay. Good night, baby.”

One more heartbeat to get him through the night. 

“Night, doll.”

When the phone cuts, Yoongi’s hand falls, his stare shifting straight to the living room. 

Right towards the corner that stares back. 

It’s been five days.

But it feels like you’ve aged twenty-eight years.

Ever since your brother confronted you—after your much needed reunion with his best friend—you’ve been floating through time. Lost. Confused. Wondering why that conversation went the way it did and gnawing at your sanity bit by bit. 

And even though Yoongi explicitly told you he didn’t say anything concerning your relationship, you still haven’t shaken that feeling. No matter where you are, who you’re with, or on a pretty Friday like this one, you feel… Strange. 

When you saw your brother waiting, you for sure thought you were gonna get grilled. It was a given you were gonna break as soon as he started asking deeper and more specific questions. The fallout was gonna happen in your own house right at your door. 

…So what in the fuck was that?

You shift your legs, the chill of the office failing to comfort you in your manufactured, building distress. 

Somehow, that version of the conversation proved much, much worse. Because now you’re spiraling trying to figure out why he just took your lie as the truth. Truthfully, you feel nauseous. And as much as you need to get some semblance of closure, you still feel hesitant. Because if he’s just biding time? He’s not just thinking about what to do with you. 

He’s thinking about what to do with Yoongi, too. 

This is so hard. 

The only thing—the only thing—keeping you grounded. Is Yoongi himself. 

Ever since the call you never thought he’d answer, you’ve been contacted every night. What was once days of radio silence quickly shifted to him reaching out however he could, hours of the day be damned. Just last night, in fact, Yoongi sent you texts at four in the morning, and you beam just thinking about what he said so casually.  

Yoongi [3:57am]: That keyboard I told you about is fucking dope. Just got it today and it won’t let me sleep lmaooo

Yoongi [3:58am]: I was gonna say sorry for texting but fuck it you’re getting all the updates :) 

No matter what it is, be it a text, call, or video chat, Yoongi seems fully committed and in the moment. Present. And it’s been… Really nice. If you didn’t have your brother’s shadow hovering over your brain, life would be practically perfect. 

Forcing yourself to actually work, you manage to get some small things done. Even the meeting you attend goes smoothly and you leave any outside worries on the other side of those glass walls.

So when you get back to your desk, an awaiting paper bag makes you pause. And your whole body prepares to weep.

Only one person has ever sent you food while you’re at work. And staring inside the parcel, you would’ve been able to tell who it was from even if said person had never sent any before.

There’s a small note on top of a to-go container—one that you immediately recognize as that super good restaurant next to Jungkook’s studio. 

What the hell? How did Yoongi know you wanted some this whole week but didn’t wanna risk being so close? With careful fingers, you pluck the tiny paper from the bag, opening it with care before your eyes get so teary eyed you can’t even read.

Tonight.  

This man.

I got the next one.

This wonderful, charming man. 

But you’re getting what I need so here’s the list:

Goddamn it, Min Yoongi. 

Seeing an actual list of food squeezes a laugh through your throat in a squeak, tears rushing out of your ducts before they’re hastily swiped. 

After five days. Yoongi really just sent you on a grocery run to surprise you with another meetup.

The gesture is so him that you cannot help but shake your head, ruefully huffing to no one and pocketing the note in your bag. And all your worries scatter even further. 

A dinner before the big game is risky, for sure, but at this point you couldn’t care less. Your brother has his own work outing tonight, anyway, and you are dead set on breaking all of this to him soon.

Even though you are very much unprepared. And he is going to lose his fucking mind if he doesn’t know already. Fuck.

You’ve had all five days to think it over. All the possible combinations and possibilities and outcomes. Some of them are extreme, some of them are hopeful. But for a majority of these projections, you have a feeling that none of you are gonna leave it without wounds. 

And you don’t know how you’re gonna save both of them if theirs are cut too deep. 

Regardless, that’s in the future. Not now. Right now, you are staying in the present and working like molasses until you can jet out the door, nary a care nor concern weighing on your heels.

Tonight. He’s gonna cook for you?

You’ll have the first substantial meal you’ve had in months.

Even though you want nothing more than to see Yoongi, your nerves are still buzzing and bumping into each other nonstop. There’s a lot you still need to know. Like why he was radio silent for months, and why your brother has been a little weird this whole week. 

Save it for later. Hopefully Yoongi will tell you why eventually. Or that gap will stay elusive to your brain forever.

Sliding into your car, you dump your bag in the passenger seat before pulling out the list, clutching it close and taking a leap that could either calm your nerves or spike them. 

Yoongi: Outgoing Call 

When he picks up, you legitimately don’t answer. Because even after all this time, you still can’t quite function when you hear that deep voice addressing you directly. 

“Hey.” 

All you have to do is say something. Anything. You could rattle off the damn list, stumbling over all the syllables just like they’re currently smushed together in your fingers. 

But you don’t snap out of this trance until he speaks again. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi,” you squeak out, clearing your throat while watching other people walk to their cars. “Hi, sorry. I just umm.” 

You just what? Somehow lost all sense of language just from him saying hi? Get it together. Stop that racket in your stomach and say what you were gonna say. “Thank you for the food. I’m off work now so I’m heading to the store.” 

He simply huffs a quiet laugh.

“Get whatever you want, too. Just let me know how much it is.” 

Huh. Did Yoongi just say all those words in that order? If you heard him right, forget the damn food. You’re close to speeding directly to his place and breaking down the motherfucking door. “Oh, I definitely will,” you respond with instead of hauling ass, the words pushing through your lingering smile. “And don’t worry about that, I got it.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah! I got big girl money now.” 

Yoongi laughs again on the line, fuller and closer this time. Are you on speaker? 

“It’s like that? Maybe I should work there, too.” 

“Oh, you’d hate it,” you giggle, scheming hard in your head for tonight already. Pretty bubbles in your ribs lift all your spirits. “I’m actually pretty bossy here.”

The groan that seeps through your car should be illegal. 

“That is literally what I’ve been wanting to see.” 

It’s your turn to chuckle as you finally make your way out of the parking lot, heading right to the market that you know for a fact has all of what he’s asking for. “I’m only that way at work, though.” 

“Do better.” 

Your immediate response makes his laugh crunchy in the speakers, and you go along with him because life is good. Life is fucking great right now. “Never mind, you’re paying. And I’m getting stuff for dessert now, too.” 

“What? Who said anything about dessert?” 

“Me,” you huff out in pride. Since he wants to see that demanding side come out so bad. With a fleeting thought, you think about what it could be like if you end up confident enough to— 

“I’m starting to regret this.”

“Regret what?”

“Everything.”

Liar! Your cheeks hurt as you look both ways before making a turn. “Can’t fool me. You’re excited.”

“I am.”

The way there was no hesitation sends shivers up your spine. But it’s partly because you thought you’d be faced with another joke or dig. Not a sudden one-eighty. Stopping at a light, you clear your throat before shyness puffs right out of it. “Well, good,” you state while checking your mirrors. “Cus I am, too.” 

“That’s a given, though.”

“Excuse you.”

Yoongi laughs before you hear the sound of cabinets, and you wonder which ones he could be touching. 

“Mm, babe. One more thing.” 

Can he stop making your heart beat two times at once? “Hmm?”

There’s a little bit of pause, followed by the clank of a pan on metal. When you hear another hum, you wonder what he could possibly—

“I think we’re out of condoms.” 

Who is out of what. If you weren’t still at a red, your foot would’ve slammed on the gas because what the fuck! All you can manage out are sounds without substance, random syllables, gibberish. Nothing is computing in your head. 

“Wait. Or are we?”

Okay, Yoongi needs to stop with that two-letter word before your behavior turns downright criminal. With as much seriousness as you can manage, you accuse, “Are you just fucking with me?”

And his response launches you forward just as the light turns green, 

“Yeah. That’s why we’re out of—”

“Alright!” you cut in, stopping stopping stopping him because for whatever reason, this conversation is too much. Despite seeing this very man naked in many, many ways, just having this talk with him is making you shier than ever before. “Guess I’ll, umm. Get those, too.”

“Nah, you don’t have to.”

“Oh. Found some?”

“No.”

Wait. If he didn’t find some why is he telling you that you don’t have to— “Oh,” you peep in realization. A very sudden, jaw dropping realization. “Goddamn it, you’re too distracting now, bye.”

And he finally breaks with laughter that’s contagious as hell. Which isn’t fair when you’re pretending to be upset with him. Even when you can’t see Yoongi, you can imagine the way his cheeks rise and his eyes crease. The way the whole room illuminates when he’s packed with happiness. 

And you want that to be the case forever. 

“You’re just lucky I’m not there with you.” 

“Yeah, you’d be annoying as hell.” 

“Damn!” 

As the market comes into view, your teeth shine as you grin, roasting this man quickly becoming one of your favorite pastimes. 

“To be fair,” you start to amend, fingers drumming on the wheel as you decide whether or not to say what you want. After deciding that there’s no wrong answer here, you softly admit, “I really do wanna get groceries with you.” 

There’s no words that come out in response. Only the slight movements of shuffling and water running and what could be more cabinets closing. But you don’t really know for sure—

“It’s gonna happen, doll.” 

You clutch the wheel.

“Cus I want that, too.”

One of these days you’re gonna see this damn cat again. 

Foot connecting with Yoongi’s door, you grunt as multiple bags burden your limbs, pride digging divots along your arms—second trips be damned. 

It doesn’t take long for him to let you in anyway, and you swoon at the way he doesn’t even ask while taking some of your baggage. But the kiss on your cheek makes your heart bang into everything between the front door and the kitchen. It’s so distracting that you barely smell the spices greeting you, too. 

“Thanks for getting all this,” Yoongi says as you both cross onto tile.  

“Of course.” Lifting the much lighter load that you have, you revel in the small thumps and thuds on his counter. Not really knowing why. “Let’s put this up before I yell at you.”

His laugh comes out in hisses while you both start reaching into bags. “For what!” 

“Sent me everywhere to find some of this shit.” 

“You could’ve asked somebody.” 

Feeling a bit silly and high off his presence already, you repeat his words in a goofy mocking tone, and the way he blows out air sends your belly fluttering. 

And just like that, things are back to normal again. No worries about your sibling, or work, or anything else looming by the door. Inside is what matters, and the whole apartment fills with jabs and jokes as groceries find their homes.

But Yoongi finds a bag you had separated from the rest, and you snap your mouth shut when he looks inside, something rising in your core when he turns to you with an eyebrow raised. And a smirk so salacious it makes you quiver. 

“What about it,” you squeak out, crumbling when he simply takes the bag and flings it through his bedroom door. “You said you—we were out, so…” 

“That’s a big box, doll,” he points out on his way to your tightly bitten lip. Mouth slicing through your sanity, he approaches you with a glint in his eyes. “Got something you wanna say?” 

“Nope,” you whoosh out oh god he looks way too hot in those sweats wait is that a growing bulge? “Although I will say it took me forever to pick out what—”

Sparks ignite your hands when your lips are claimed, launching them into his shirt and tugging him backward because you’ve been waiting way too long to kiss the shit out of him. 

And Yoongi responds in kind, pinning you to his fridge and so, very obvious that he’s been waiting for this, too. 

Heaven probably wonders how to replicate this feeling. How to imitate this treasured yearning that only he can pull from the depths of your ocean. Deep, deeper, deepest. All these kisses. Your ascending affection. 

“As much as I wanna throw you on my bed,” Yoongi jokes, pulling away and giving your cheek a light tap. “I’m taking you somewhere.” 

And you’re so thrown from the impact that your brain mini-resets. “Huh? We’re leaving?”

“Uh huh.”

Hold on. Wait. Is this what he meant when he said he’s getting the next one? You’re going out to eat? Together? No. No, there’s no way. Yoongi knows that’s the worst possible thing to do right now, as much as the idea is sending your belly in a frenzy. “Are you sure? What about dinner? Won’t people… You know.”

“It’s ready already,” he reveals. “By the door.” 

Your head snaps to where he points out, even though you can’t see through the bar. “Really?” No wonder it smells like a cooking aftermath. All those smells twirling around your head. How did you not even catch the dishes in the sink? 

But hold up, you just bought a shit ton of food! “Then what the hell was the run for?”

Yoongi blinks. Then he does it again. Expression stone still, he responds as if you were privy to his plans this entire time, “I told you to get what I needed.” 

Your turn to blink.

“And I needed food.”

This man is going to be the death of you. Affronted, your jaw hangs before you grit through a smile that betrays you, “Oh, you—” 

“So thanks,” he quips through another tilt of his lips. “Let’s go, doll.” 

The begrudged sound that leaves you makes him kick his head back on the way out the kitchen. 

“Eat.”

The container on your thighs warms you through. “Now?”

“Mm.”

“I can wait,” you assure, watching as night paints the surrounding scenery in navy and black. “We can eat together.” 

“Just a bite then.” 

Turning to Yoongi, you don’t see a change in his face as he eyes the road. The veins in his arm catch all the streetlight, and you gulp before your gaze falls to what he made. Music fills the car, and you decide that maybe you do feel a little hungry. So you listen to instruction, popping it open and being careful as you pluck a piece to try. 

There’s no denying it. This motherfucker is a chef. “Fuck, this is good.” 

Your borderline moan sends Yoongi’s shoulders bobbing, and you will never get over those low, gravelly laughs. “Sorry.” Your hand hovers over your mouth in embarrassment. “I don’t react like that unless I’m alone.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, well,” you swallow. “Course you don’t.”

A tiny peek of teeth show as Yoongi smiles, and you don’t expect what he offers next, “Just be you, doll. It’s just me.”

The next bite of food pauses on the way to your mouth. “Oh,” you murmur. “Same for you then.”

“Nah.”

“Why not?”

“Cus we wouldn’t make it to where we’re going.”

That was legitimately the worst time to put food in your mouth. Sputtering, your words come out low and chortled, “You fucker.”

His hisses are brief before he dips into silence again. As he slowly turns the wheel, you can see a glimpse of something deep in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he suddenly apologizes, swallowing as you keep your gaze. 

What is that look? Weren’t you both just having a good time? “For what, baby?” 

“Everything.” 

Your lungs flinch. This is definitely not what you expected to hear on the way to wherever the hell you’re going. “Oh.” 

Yoongi still doesn’t look your way, and with each pass of a light over his face, you catch quick snapshots of those eyes you’re still so shy of. “I, umm. I didn’t expect shit to pan out this way.” 

“It’s okay,” you whisper. 

After a slow motion of disagreement, his head falls forward just a bit. And your eyes find his hand clutching the gear shift in what you sadly think is frustration. “I’ve just thought about some things,” he starts, another song playing. “How worried you must’ve been.” 

You look forward. Because this is the part where you can’t face him. “I was. But not for the same reason as last time.” Without a hesitation of your own, your palm reaches between your seats. And you can tell Yoongi watches as you take his hand to hold. 

“I was worried about you,” you correct with softness. “It was hard because I didn’t know what to do.” Don’t fucking cry. You filled quite a few buckets already. “When you started not really saying much, I just… Hoped it was for a good reason, so. Yeah.” 

You feel your hand gently pulled, which is already enough to make you melt. But when it’s kissed, you don’t know what the hell to fucking do. 

“I’m sorry, doll,” Yoongi whispers into your skin, lips brushing with every syllable and painting a canvas of his reconcile. “I won’t leave you hanging like that again.” 

There’s a tiny fire in the back of your throat, the embers reaching your eyes just a little too aggressively. You attempt to squash the growing flames before they flare. “Oh. Umm. Thank you.” What else do you say? Yoongi’s being wonderful, but why do you feel… sad? Why is there lingering snow on your windowsill? “Were you worried?” 

“Me? Umm.” He stops at a light that he clearly didn’t want to stop at. Resting your conjoined hands on his pliant thigh, his jaw works as he observes them.

And you wonder if he thinks they slot together perfectly, too. 

“…Yeah.” 

Fuck. “About what?” 

“That you’d hate me.” 

Your heart meshes his fingers with yours. “Yoongi.” 

“Or that you shouldn’t be with someone that’s gone this much.” 

Fuck, he’s doing it again. Regressing. You’ve seen it happen in his kitchen and you’ll be damned if all that work, all that peeling, all that resolution amounted to nothing wait, wait, stop. This isn’t gonna be an overnight fix. And you have no clue what’s been happening, so just keep trying, trying, trying. 

“I’m used to people leaving,” you joke, but not really. “Like seasons.” 

He whips his head to you, and you backpedal because that probably sounded so random. You’ve got to think about filtering your thoughts a little more now that you’re getting comfortable. Yoongi says you can be yourself, sure, but you have to admit your quirks are a little out there. “I know it’s weird, but..” 

He’s quiet as the light turns green. And when you don’t finish, he admits, “I think the same.” 

“You do?” 

Your hand is brushed as a hum peppers it from above. “Mmhmm.” 

“Well.” That’s interesting. You didn’t know anyone thought about that stuff like you did. Now you wonder if there’s anywhere else your wavelengths sync, and if they’ve been syncing up all this time. “At least you come back.” 

Yoongi squeezes your hand tight before he holds it against his lips. Again. Fuck, this is a lot. You’re so wrapped up in his gesture that you don’t catch what he whispers. 

“Hmm?” 

He glances at the center console before putting your hand back on his thigh. 

“Always, doll.” 

And the fire you stepped on rages back with a vengeance. Heat and sting surrounds your eyes, and you don’t hide how you press your feelings into his skin. “Me, too.” 

If you weren’t lost in the surrounding scenery outside, you would have caught Yoongi’s look. But all you feel is his hand clutching you tight, and it breaks you down all the same. 

The rest of the drive is spent with him telling you to eat more, and a bunch of your sing-alongs to almost every song that comes on. It seems like the tiny bit of closure opened you both up, and you don’t even realize that you’ve been on the road for a really long time. 

But finally, Yoongi pulls up to a building, and you’re haphazardly rapping along to a song before you notice. Wait. What? He drove you to a rec center? 

Your fingers curl around his forearm before you even notice. “What’s this?” 

“Where we’re going.”

Hold on, you’re going inside? “Are we even allowed to be here?”

When Yoongi responds, his teeth make you shiver as he smirks. “Can’t say for sure, no.”

“Then why—”

He unlocks before you can finish, and you’re left in an empty car until he rounds the hood, coming over to your side and opening the door. You almost don’t hear what he says next, too focused on the jewelry swinging from his neck as he bends forward. 

But you catch it, and glance once more at the sight in front of you before biting your lip—in nervousness or excitement, you can’t decide.

“You comin’?”

Damn. Obviously, you want nothing more than to see him here. And it’s much too late for anyone to be around. But if something happens… Whatever. 

Your mouth finally unsticks. “If we get caught, you’re gonna pay for this.”

And you can’t resist his stupid grin. “Now get your pretty ass out before I put you in the back.” 

“Yoongi!”

Grinning, he leads you out, and you follow him to the trunk. After bouncing his stowed ball a couple times, he decides to lean in and reach for something else. 

Wait. Is that what you think it is? “Did you always have that in there?” you ask, pointing to the contraption that Yoongi’s using to air up his basketball.

And he does a horrible job at suppressing a smile. Which makes you burst into flutters and beats beats beats. “You liar!” Oh, you are gonna wipe those laughs from his throat. “I had to change up my plans because of you!”

Palming the ball, Yoongi tilts his head dangerously to one side. “And I got to see you,” he proudly claims. “So I’ll take it.”

You hate how the memories come packaged with what’s haunted you. What else happened during that time, and what happened after you left. But there’s no way you’re gonna bring that up. Not when the night has transformed into something so magical. 

So you just clutch your food and lean on his car, opting to compliment him to wipe the murk away. “Got to see you, too,” you puff into the brisk night. Because you harbor a bit of nostalgia in your bones. And because he still makes you shy. “You and your stupid hair.”

Another bout of hisses wisp into your side. As you turn to regard Yoongi again, he slips his chains into his hoodie before continuing, and you swoon at the veins popping out of his skin with each pump. 

How can he look so perfect doing the simplest things? So unfair. 

After seconds that feel like an hour, Yoongi’s done. And he scans the parking lot before telling you to follow him. 

What you expect is some outdoor courts. Maybe getting past a gate or two. So when you approach a back door lit by the shine of a single light, you freeze. “Are we really going in?”

Fishing something out of his pocket, Yoongi simply turns over his shoulder. “Yeah. Why not?”

“Oh.” You didn’t think you’d actually get inside the building. If there was an outside court just as accessible it would’ve made sense. Can you even bring food in here? Is that question even relevant? “No reason.”

“So I shouldn’t bust in?”

Huh. “What?”

“I’ve already done it a few times, so.”

“Wait!” Nerves throw your hand on his bicep before you can stop. “What if someone sees us?”

He’s so warm. And so toned. And if he plans on taking his hoodie off? You’re not prepared for whatever the hell he has underneath. 

Voice softened, Yoongi tries to placate your paranoia, “They won’t, doll.”

“Are you sure? If we get caught here they’re gonna call the police and I am definitely not… Gonna…”

The object in his hand jangles, and you clearly see he was just joking the whole time because keys—keys—stare you in the face. 

What is it with him and keys? 

When Yoongi speaks, you feel like you’ve never done anything bad in your life, and suddenly the thought of trespassing with an official way in is so scandalous, 

“You picked the wrong night to be a good girl.”

You have to admit. Seeing him so mischievous and dashing makes you wanna follow him wherever the hell he goes. Even if it gets you in trouble. Even if you were breaking in tonight, you would be all in. And that thought should frighten you, but it only does because of the wings tickling your rib cage. 

How can he make you feel rebellious and yet still so shy? The power of Min Yoongi. He’s way too good at destroying you.

When you glare, the man only grins, hisses of laughter leaving him way too happily before he unlocks the door to no alarms or sirens. He doesn’t need to throw a wink your way, too, but of course he does as he lets you in. Which causes you to float through the dark entryway instead of walk oh he did not just slap your ass!

A jolt in your cunt causes you to regard him in shock. To which he hums in a feigned question. “Hmm?”

With nothing but darkness and his cologne surrounding you, it’s only natural that giddiness takes hold. Truthfully, you’re packed with so much adrenaline that you feel a little wild yourself. “You’ve been waiting to do that, huh.” 

“So fucking long.”

You are not surviving the night. And you don’t give a single shit.

But as shy and out of control as you feel around this man, you also feel safe—even in a faraway, dark building that you’ve never been in before. That’s gotta say something about him, right? 

Yoongi feels along the wall beside you for lights, purposefully bumping your chest with his front even though he’s securing a ball with an arm. When you question his joking decision with noises, a chaste kiss on your lips shuts you right up.

“You’re in the way,” he jokes through what you think is a smile, and you’re about to move when he flicks on a switch very far away from your shoulder.

Liar! Your jaw drop must be comical because Yoongi’s grin stretches astronomically wide. But you cannot find a retort because seeing him so chill while you’re stiff from paranoia has you at a loss.

Is this how he used to be all the time? This carefree, all caution to the wind? He’s so fucking handsome like this. No wonder he’s pulled so many hearts just like yours. 

When you still don’t find any words to say, Yoongi makes it harder, stepping so close that you have to swing the plastic container away. Taking one of your hands in his free one, he gives it a warm squeeze while murmuring,

“You’re so cute.”

“How,” you ask just as softly.

And Yoongi responds with lights in his eyes. “Just are.”

Your lips mesh with his as he keeps your fingers secured, and suddenly every cautious thing in your body gets launched into the skies, too.

But it ends as soon as it begins. And Yoongi backs away from you with a smile, 

“Eat.”

“Huh?”

“Eat, doll,” he orders before turning and dribbling onto the court.

When you call out that he hasn’t eaten yet, Yoongi tells you that he already did. When you look around to figure out where to even sit, you decide on the closest set of bleachers and make yourself as comfortable as you can.

Which is impossible. Because they’re bleachers. Which is now triple impossible. Because Yoongi just shucked off his hoodie and the only thing he had under it was his chains goddamn it.

If you weren’t already sitting down you would’ve fallen right into the next dimension. How the fuck are you supposed to eat in these conditions shit he’s walking over! 

Your throat seizes as Yoongi approaches, face trained as if he isn’t aware of his overwhelming presence. All he does is bend to place his sweater next to your legs. But the quick smooch on your lips makes you swoon harder than you ever have.

And the way his silver taps your chest makes you mentally hold on for dear life. Wait. What the fuck, Yoongi’s taking them off right now? Right in front of you? Just as you're supposed to eat oh okay he’s handing them to you great wonderful fantastic.

The metal links feel so warm yet slightly cold to the touch. Weighty, yet light. But you clutch them in your hand as you connect a gaze to his.

“Relax,” he orders, lightly slapping the side of your thigh. “No need to worry.” 

And with bangs swishing, he goes right back to the ball waiting for him. Leaving you starry-eyed to hell with silver in your palm.

…Did all of that just happen? Is any of this even real? Quite frankly, you fucking forgot what you were even worried about. 

No matter what he does—simple lay-ups standing in place, dribbling to different spots to shoot, or even lazily jogging after the ball—you’re so enthralled with his actions that you forget that you’re not supposed to be here. 

And it takes your last bite of food for something to finally hit you. How does Yoongi have keys to this place? Where the hell did he score those because you don’t think he ever mentioned anything about working here. Or anywhere else other than the studio. 

Yet another mystery to add to this walking, bare-chested enigma. 

But there’s another question forming behind your eyes the longer you watch him practice, the more you notice how he’s actually going hard. Yoongi’s really good right now. A lot better than what you’ve seen of him before. 

Has he been coming here more often than he’s let on? And why does he look so… serious? You’d be surprised if he even remembered you’re here. 

Setting your empty container down, you gather the chains in your hands again, deciding to slip them over your head for safer keeping. After, you grab a water before stepping down the bleachers, hanging a little ways away until Yoongi notices you’re courtside.

And when he sees you, he stops practicing immediately, jogging to you so sweaty and shining and gross and handsome and— “Wait, you’re all swea—”

You’re pulled into a kiss the same time you hear a basketball drop, salt on your tongue and damp palms on your cheeks. And you melt right into the shiny wood floor, drifting, drifting, sailing into dreamland even though you’re technically already there. 

“Sweaty,” you whisper into his hot breaths of exertion, a twinge between your legs when he kisses you even deeper—breathing, inhaling, taking you in. “Gross.”

“Thanks.” 

You flash a smile against Yoongi’s lips, giggling because this is all better than anything your brain could’ve conjured on its own. When you ask why he’s going so hard, all you get is a question in return,

“You’re perfect, you know that?” 

Huh? Blinking, you suddenly don’t remember your own train of thought. “What did I do?” 

“Nothing.” He presses a wet mouth to your nose. “Did you eat?”

Laughing, you reassure him, “I did, I did.” 

“Good. You bored?”  

“Huh?”

Yoongi leans to softly take your lips this time, and you want to say he’s approaching the legal limit for kisses tonight. “Thought you came over cus you wanna leave.”

“And stop seeing you play? I could watch this forever.” You squeeze the water bottle a little tighter. “Just checking on you.” Another strike hits between your legs when Yoongi takes another, lazier glide over your mouth, and you sigh when he tugs you forward by your bottoms, fingers slick from use. 

You could do this for eternity, too.

“Well I got about five more minutes in me, so..”

This man. 

“Forever might be a stretch.” 

“Ah, shut up. Here,” you offer through a giggle, holding the water out for him to take. 

“Thanks.” When he does, he tilts his head at just the right angle to cut you through, gulping down liquid and making you do the same to your nothingness. 

So unfair. “You looked like you were going pretty hard.” 

Lowering the bottle, Yoongi shifts his jaw before taunting something a ways off. “I kinda was.” 

“It was kinda hot.” 

His laugh makes you smile, and his next swig makes you weep. “Nah, but. This is our practice gym. I can just zone out here, so. It’s been one of those things.” 

Ah. Was this one of the places Yoongi ended up during those months apart? You wish he could’ve brought you along sometimes. Or at least thought about asking. It’s nice just to be around him while he does something he likes. Gaining courage, you say exactly what’s on your mind, “You can always bring me, too. If you want.” 

And it’s true. You don’t really have to do much when you’re with him, because just being around him is what brightens your day. Lifts your mood. 

But you have to admit that watching him play basketball while shirtless is the biggest fucking win in history. 

When did Yoongi get so close? When did his eyes retreat so far away? “I didn’t wanna bother you with this,” he admits, a drop of sweat clinging onto his chin. “I don’t even put music on.” 

“You never bother me,” you whisper back. Hoping that he believes you and that he will start to accept that as fact. Because it is. “Even if you’re being annoying.” 

The bottle crinkles as he smiles, and there’s a soft kiss to your lips that has no real desire behind it. Just a nice peck that sends you careening down a hill of flowers. “You won’t be feeling that way tomorrow, babe.” 

“And why is that?”

“Cus of what I’m wearing.” 

And he says that while half-naked? Like any look on him could get any worse. “Oh,” you scoff out, fully calling his bluff. “As if.”

Well, fuck. You don’t enjoy the smirk plastered on his face. It has you both dreading and excited for whatever demon you’re gonna run into tomorrow. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He shrugs as he starts to hand the water back. “We can go soon, by the way.”

“Okay.”

But before you can grab it, Yoongi pulls the bottle from reach. “Unless,” he teases. “You wanna play me.”

“What.”

His grin shines, face glistening and turning your insides to jelly. “You told me you’d win, so. Let’s see it.”

You said that? While sober? How does he remember something like that when you can’t even recall a time or place you’d tell him something so bold. “When!”

“Right after you woke up once. Said you’re a master?”

Oh. That was ages ago. Fuck, you already forgot how did Yoongi remember? 

“Oh. Well.” Your nose turns up in feigned haughtiness. “Wouldn’t wanna throw you off your game before a championship.” 

“Uh huh.”

“I’d make you cry what the fuck!” 

Water spills down your head in rivulets as you freeze, stunned and watching Yoongi jogging his laughs back to the bleachers like a punk. “Think you got something on your face, doll.”

“Yoongi!” What the hell possessed him to do that to you here? Racing after him with purpose, you slam into him just as he reaches for another bottle, shoving a laugh out of his throat and making him catch himself on hardwood. “Nu uh, gimme that!”

“It’s mine, I just ran out—”

“Bitch!” You lunge for another bottle lying further away, distancing yourself to quickly rip the cap off and to avoid feeling his slick back on your hands. 

And it’s a lawless gym as both of you start spraying water, arcs and splashes of bottled liquid spewing over the court and soaking into your clothes and his bare skin. Which proves to get worse and worse for your wellbeing the more he gets soaked in your attacks. 

Running ends up being the only option to avoid getting completely drenched, and you hightail it behind bleachers before your waist is grabbed. “Fuck!” 

“Uh huh.” 

You try to wrestle out of his hold, his wet forearm digging lovely into your stomach, and you’re temporarily let go just so Yoongi can spin you around. 

Your back connects with solid wall, the impact shooting a grunt out of your throat before you laugh out of pure disbelief. “I can’t believe, you got me to do that,” you rush out, sentence punctuated by your breaths more than anything else. 

Here you are. Under bleachers. With Yoongi’s skin caging you with radiating heat.  

You can only stare as he drinks you in, no doubt looking at his silver around your neck and your chest heaving from exertion. Butterflies float across your stomach when his smile drips, and you fold as soon as he swoops in. 

Everything in your being pulses hard. It’s so visceral that you teeter on the edge of sanity and logic, and the thoughts slipping through your mind are just as wild as you feel. Before you’re even aware of it, a mischievous finger slides along the hem of his shorts, and you jump at the downright boulders rolling down your front, 

“Careful, doll.”

“Hmm?” You feel bad. And it feels fantastic. “What was that?” 

More gravel slides down his tongue, and you shake at his attractive as fuck threat, “Fuck around and find out then.” 

Your giggles add feather lightness into his murky laughs, but you’re so preoccupied that you don’t notice his hand between your legs until he slaps the inside of your thigh. “Yoo—!”

“Unless.” He leans forward. “My baby’s too scared.” 

Holy fuck, you might be. Is he really willing to do something with you? In a public place very similar to where you’re gonna watch him play tomorrow? You don’t know why the fuck that’s attractive as hell, but it is. 

Yoongi grips your chin, eyes falling to your lips and brows knitted before claiming your lips even harder. And despite your bones vibrating to hell, you put your all into the kiss, relishing in the growing hardness you feel against your front. An animal starts to wake inside your core, and you almost feel like stroking it. Feeding it. Raising it only for it to consume you in return. 

“Fuck it, we’re leaving.” 

“Huh?” Dazed, you let your vision refocus as Yoongi chuckles at your hazy state. 

“Fuck this. I’m taking you home.” 

For some reason, the game makes you nervous today. Even while Taehyung strides into the gymnasium with you, there’s a lingering feeling swelling in your stomach, and you don’t have any reason for it yet. 

At least this is another rec center entirely. Because there’s no way you would’ve sat still knowing you had a clandestine meeting in the same place not even twenty-four hours before. 

But the activity already bustling around hardwood catches your attention. Not on both sides, since only one team is here, but they are active on the other end doing drills. 

Wow. They look really intimidating, matching jerseys that were clearly done professionally and warm-ups having a set routine. You wonder if this is gonna be a tough game for… Wait. That’s your brother under the basket. That’s them? 

Fucking hell, Yoongi was right.

Because you’ll already never get over how attractive he looks in athletic clothes.

But team jerseys? 

Seeing this man rock a basketball uniform with his toned arms and legs so visible makes you want to claw your way out of your invisible cage. 

When the hell did they even get those? And why is he already slightly drenched during the warm-up alone? 

As soon as you see him make a lay-up, you know for a fact that you shouldn’t be here. 

Yes, you’re gonna stay and yes, you’re gonna cheer for them all game. But you are absolutely gonna feel like jumping him, which will in turn make you wanna bolt and run all the way out of town every agonizing second. 

Shit, shit, shit. You’re gonna have to try your damned hardest to unstick your eyes from that man the whole time. Already, you can hear Taehyung’s teasing, and your groan is to lament your future state.

Your name suddenly rings across the gym, and four feet pause in your ascent up the bleachers. When you catch both him and Jimin waving you down from their courtside chairs, you tilt your head in intrigue. 

They want you to come over there? What the hell is this about? 

Sighing, you turn. “Guess I’ll go see what they want.” 

“Here,” Tae offers his hand. “I’ll save you a seat.” 

Your bag is transferred to his grip while you nod, and you step down onto the court, wondering if you’re even allowed to walk onto it to see them. And Jimin’s grin can be seen from miles away. “Come here!” 

You gingerly step onto shiny wooden floors, making your way over and becoming hyper aware that someone else notices your presence. But you’re so puzzled as to why there’s no one on the other side of the court yet because isn’t the game about to start? 

Where’s the other team? As you approach their row of chairs, your hands immediately find your hips. “What’s up?” 

Jimin’s eyes stay creased as your brother explains the reason he waved you down. A very stupid, very innocuous reason. “Can you keep score?” 

“Me?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Why me?” 

Your brother uses his jersey to wipe sweat from his brow, and you wince at the brand new material getting gross already. “The girl that usually does it for us is sick.” 

“And you know the game,” Jimin quickly tacks on, rubbing at some tattoos on full display. Wait, are there more than you remember? When did he get more ink?

Your sibling asks another question you had in mind, “You aren’t gonna cover those?”

“Nah. Not today,” the man elongates in a stretch. “Just got another one. This one!” 

Ah, you were right. “I like it.” 

Jimin couldn’t look more proud. But enough of that because you really just wanna go back and observe the game from another place entirely. “Can’t y’all find someone else to keep score?” 

“We don’t think anyone else can,” your brother explains, looking over your shoulder. “At least, not the people coming to watch us.” 

Cool. You get to be met with heat and sweat from all these guys without compensation. How is this something you would say yes to? “Well. I don’t really feel like being a scorekeeper for free.” 

When your sibling laughs with Jimin, they share a look before he says so matter-of-factly, “Told you.” 

You’re sticking with that. If you’re gonna sit next to a bunch of smelly people, they’re gonna pay… you… somehow.

A ways down the row, you catch Yoongi dumping himself onto a random chair, head tilted back before he hangs it forward to wipe sweat from his forehead. 

And suddenly this temporary gig doesn’t seem terrible in the slightest. 

Because one, you can sit on a team bench that will have his fine ass right there. And two, this will give you a way to objectively focus on the game. You won’t have time to be distracted by a demon and his hair that’s gotten criminally long. 

“I’ll get us all dinner,” your sibling slices through your thoughts. “After we win.”  

“Fine,” you sigh, taking the end seat and shooting one more glance to the other side of the court. “Then I get to p—”

The air around you squeezes inward. And all sounds plunge underwater. 

Because you recognize someone you knew from a dark club walking onto the court, his team looking just as sharp and cocky as his eyes. 

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. 

You don’t notice the way Jimin’s hands flex, nor the way a familiar presence walks up to join your brother. 

All you can do is stare back. 

And without even realizing. 

You’re already rubbing your arm.

-

-

tbc. :((

-

a ha ha... so how do we feel? | taglist | discord!

a/n: okay, hello, loves. apologies this part took so damn long to post! can you imagine if i tried to post everything at once LMAOO yikes talk about too much at once. but i hope this part was enough to still be good on its own, and broken, pt. 2 will be... well. you can probably guess that's where a majority of my brainpower is going to go. a/n 2: thank you all for being here! it's been an amazing two years working on this series and i cannot tell you how grateful and appreciative i am to have such wonderful people alongside me. i hope this series continues to be there for you when you need it, bc it has become that for me, too. ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ three tangerines masterlist

[mickgaydolenz]

I HAD A MONKEEMARE I HAD A MONKEEMARE I HAD A MONKEEMARE

so I was walking down my street alone in the morning but I was in my fcking tunic and Hiram pants carrying one of my dragonfly sirams with me and waving it over my head like a flag whenever a car drove by??? and then out of nowhere one of the cars that drove by stopped and rolled down the window and it was young MICKY?????? and he smiled and asked me if I needed a ride so I got in and he just fckin asked me all these questions??? Like: "how old are you?" "Where are you from?" "whens your birthday?" "whats your favorite color?" and then before I knew it he pulled up to a restaurant and ran out of his door and to mine and opened it, then brought me inside and the MONKEES were at the table and Davy went "ooh, Micky! we told you to grab cash from the house! not bring back a stranger!" then Micky sat me down next to him and went "no! this isn't a stranger! this is my friend Raya! and I can prove it." AND THEN HE STARTED LISTING OFF EVERYTHING I SAID

I told him my favorite color was green and where I was from and how old I was when my birthday was and everything so they let me stay and I was too nervous to order any food so we just talked about things??? Mike asked me why I was in my pajamas and Micky went "Mike! those aren't pajamas! just groovy everyday clothes!" but I told him they were pajamas and he scoffed and rolled his eyes. and for some reason I really wanted to talk to peter but I couldn't think of anything to say so I just kinda. sat in silence for a little while. then when they said they were done eating they invited me back to their home

AND IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE WE WERE THERE I DON'T EVEN KNOW IF I SAID YES

and I hung out at the kitchen table playing Go-Fish with Micky but our cards were blank and he'd go "do you have any reds?" and I would look down at my blank cards and go "go fish." that was just how we played. then Davy said from the top of the stairs he needed someone's help changing because he was going on a date soon, so Micky and I go up and I just thought it was like. "which color goes better? " and "can you help me with my tie?" I don't know about Micky, but I was NOT expecting to walk into the room and find a FULLY NUDE DAVY asking us which dress he should WEAR. so immediately I am looking at the floor while Micky completely casually answers like this is all normal. and then Davy asks me which one I like, I said whichever one Micky said, but Davy, very angrily, said "raya. look at the dresses." so I looked up luckily he was holding it over himself it was like a green paisley sundress, and the other one was the same but red, and naturally I picked green and Davy turned around to change, and tbh Davy looked very beautiful in that damn dress. he looked great. wish I saw it under better circumstances though. then he ran to one of the beds (I'm assuming his) and pulled out two shoe boxes and asked us which pair he should wear, one was a white strappy pair and the other were Mary-Janes. Micky and I both said the Mary-Janes but Davy looked down at the strappy heels and said "but these will make me so much taller..." then Micky said "yeah, but who cares? the Mary-Janes go with the outfit, Davy." then he nudged me to back him up so I agreed, but in the end Davy still went for the heels, and then Micky did his makeup with was so fcking PRETTY like??? how??? I do not know how it was so pretty but he was. and I styled his hair and this is the part that didn't make sense because when I started his hair it was his like, Beatle-Esque mop top and when I was done it was his mid season 1 mullet thing. and then he turned to look in the mirror and went "nice! thanks guys!" then just ran down stairs and Micky and I walked down the stairs together while the door rang so Micky and I tried to go down the stairs as fast as we could to see who it was and it was MIKE. fcking MICHAEL. he had a damn suit on with a bouquet of flowers and his stupid hat and they linked arms and left???? and FINALLY Micky was confused about something so we looked at each other then went to peek some more out the door thing and Mike and Davy were already in the car and driving away. then Micky turned to me and said "man,,,I thought he could do better." and I woke up

RAYA THIS IS NOT A MONKEEMARE THIS IS A MASTERPIECE AND I’M FUCKING PASSING AWAY!!!! I WANT TO HANG WITH THE MONKEES AND HELP DAVY CHOOSE AND DRESS AND WATCH HIM GO ON A CRINGEFAIL DATE WITH MIKE!!!! micky being the ultimate hype man AND makeup artist 💖👌😔

bro i am so jealous this was INCREDIBLE!!!!

[salaciousdoll]

Sundress Season

Pairings ✰: Rindou Haitani x Chubby Fem! Reader

Warnings ✰: Smut, Voyuerism, Exhibition, Dom!Rindou, The entire Bonten lusting, Mating press, Doggy style, breeding kink, filming, Camera display on television, mouth spitting, impact play, desk sex, Sucking cum off, degradation, black coded reader just not explicit

Word Count ✰: 2.7k

18+ Allowed

You were Rindou’s number one. He was never letting you go even if you wanted to part ways and so far you didn’t.

Rindou loved when you smiled at him but hated when you smiled at anyone else because then he’ll see them getting flustered or worse, hard.

Rindou hated when you showed up to the headquarters to give him dinner since he won’t be home for the day since he called you. He only hated it because of the outfits you wore.

As you stepped out of the car and walked into the Bonten headquarters, you heard loud talking and laughing . You could hint at one of the voices to be Ran, so you headed towards that way because you knew that if Ran was here then Rindou was definitely there. But you were wrong.

Rindou was in his office talking on the phone when he heard the laughs die down, he didn’t know if they were just gone or playing but he couldn’t find out until he ended this business call.

Once you walked in, you waved or said hello to everyone in a cheery voice holding plates of food.

Ran smiled while looking you up and down before landing his eyes on what’s in your hands, “ That’s for us or him?”

You stood there before looking around to see Mikey eyeing you with nothing but darkness and lust in his eyes, you can count hunger too. Mochi was smirking beside Takeomi, who never took his eyes off the way your hips looked in the sundress you decided to wear because it was 75 degrees outside today.

Sanzu was smirking while twirling the piece of candy in his hands while looking at you and imagining the things he’d do to you if Rindou wasn’t in the way.

Kakucho tried not to stare too but damn it, you were fucking gorgeous. Koko leaned back with his arms laid on the couch and a wet tongue swiping his bottom lips every now and then.

Ran knew that you were his brother’s girl but he couldn’t help staring at you like you were his. You looked so damn good in the sundress. Your busty boobs were sitting pretty for someone with saggy boobs. Your hips were wide as hell and if you turned arou-

“Him, now where is he if you all are here?”, You say, not noticing the tents erupting in their pants or stares they gave you. You were a dummy so of course you wouldn’t understand why they were all staring at you.

“ He’s not here, he’s out handling business, why don’t you sit down and chill out with us? We won’t harm you in anyway.”, Mikey says in a low voice making your shoulders drop. You were honestly scared because you never communicated with the leader of Bonten, you only heard of what he says and does from when Rindou talks to you while laying his head on your thighs at night.

You hesitantly took a step towards them before a hand reached for your arm, “ Boss, everything is all done, now is it okay to take her away from you all, it is. Great thanks!”

Rindou knew what he did could have got him in a lot of trouble but he was too mad right now. How dare you show up to his job looking this good. He snatched your wrist while grabbing the food out of your hands and into his own before pulling you down the hall to his office.

The men behind you two were staring at your ass with no remorse, they all wanted a piece of your now because the way your ass jiggled in that sundress should be a…

“ Sin”, Sanzu and Ran said at the same time. They was about to argue but you crossed their mind.

“ He’s taking her to his office and he got a camera in there, say, why don’t we have first seat to eye candy?”, Koko says with a smirk on his face before turning on the TV where different displays of cameras around the headquarters played.

Mikey was supposed to get up and walk away as soon as you left but he couldn’t, definitely couldn’t now that you are on his screen, “ Zoom in more and spread out, I feel hot and I don’t like being hot.”

Everyone wanted to laugh but they couldn’t because for one he was their boss with a very bad temper and two because they were feeling the same way. Luckily, they were watching you and Rindou arguing on an 80 inch TV. They did as he said and all stared at the surprisingly clear view on the screen in wonder and hotness.

Meanwhile back in Rindou’s office, “ Rindou, I don’t understand why it’s a big deal I came down here, I brought you dinner, what could possibly be wrong with that?!” Rindou pinched the bridge of his nose before rubbing a hand over his face, “ Do you seriously not see the fucking problem? You have on a fucking sundress y/n! You look too fucking amazing right now and they think so too!”

“ Who are they, baby? You gotta be specific. Anyways, who cares?!”, You say standing up giving the other men a view of your ass.

Sanzu almost bust right there but composed himself because he was still around the others.

Mochi and Akashi was smoking their cigars when their eyes widen to what’s displayed on the screen, “ Fuck!”

“ You really don’t know? You were just talking to the fuckers who was eyeing you.”, Rindou says with hard eyes on you. You sighed before speaking, “ Rindou, I’ll just go back home, I don’t wanna argu-”

Rindou smirked, “ No, you’re gonna bend your pretty ass over this table, now come here, don’t make me walk over to get you!”

You instantly become a little wet from his words and tone, “ No, Rindou, I’ll go home since you want me to go ho-”

“ Y/n, if I have to repeat myself, I’m gonna fuck you for hours until you past out, don’t fuck with me right now!”, Rindou yelled after hitting the desk with his hand.

You sighed before dropping your things on the chair and walking over, “ Which way to bend, on the side or front of the desk.”

Rindou had a evil glint in his eyes as he smirked at you, “ Bend over there and lift that fucking dress up.”

You were confused on why he wanted you to face him but you digress. You slowly lift up your dress knowing that you had no panties on. This was honestly your first time stepping out the house with no panties on under a sundress.

Everyone outside the room was stroking themselves in the room they went into to watch the scenery. Kakucho sucked in a breath as he watched you bend over showing your pretty fat pussy.

“ Fuck!”, Sanzu whispered while Mikey's eyes went wide as he watched.

“ Holy fuck, shes got the prettiest and fattest pussy I’ve ever seen.”, Ran says and the others hummed in agreement.

Rindou knew they were watching because he did place cameras all over his office for this exact reason. He never turns them on, only for this time before he left to drag you here.

“ Her ass is even fat, fuck! Rindou is fucking lucky.”, Takeomi says with excitement laced in his voice.

“ Rindou, I need you, please come fuck my pussy.”, They heard you say. Once they heard you say that, they fumbled.

Rindou smirked at you, “ Now why should I come fuck that sweet pussy of your huh? When you’ve been a naughty girl by walking outside in this sundress with no panties on.” You stomped your feet as you leaned over with his thumb tracing your lips. You took his thumb in your mouth before sucking on it, making him want you more.

Rindou snatched his thumb out your mouth before walking around the table and positioning hisself behind you admiring your ass and pussy, even your legs, “ Fuck, you’re heaven sent.”

Rindou spread your pussy lips with two of his fingers and breathed in your scent, almost moaning at the smell. It smelt like a good healthy pussy, his favorite and only pussy at that. The string of wetness got him going dumb, almost.

Rindou flicked a large and flattening tongue on your pussy making you grip the table. He smirked before grabbing your hips and started to devour your pussy like he was hungry for you instead of food.

His tongue was swirling around your pussy, occasionally sucking on your pussy lips. You threw your head back while moving to get away but he just shook his head as he was eating your juicy pussy making you moan loudly, “ Fuck! Just like that. Oh God!”

Rindou sucked on your clit while messaging your ass with his long pretty hands, “ Fuck, baby, I got to fuck you, I’m sorry. I’ll eat you out more when we get home.”

Rindou pulled away from your pussy with a string of saliva and your juices mixed together detaching. He licked around his face before smacking your ass creating ripples.

Rindou unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down to reveal this thick and pumping dick. He had the right length, big as hell but not that big to the point you can’t take it, “ I’m gonna fuck a baby into you just so they can know who you are meant to be with.”

You wiggle your ass as his cock laid between your ass cheeks, “ Please fuck me!”

Rindou tapped his cock on your ass before sliding inside your pussy. As soon as the tip was in you started gripping his cock. The grip you held was strong and satisfying as fuck, “ Huahh baby, you’re gripping me so tight, please loosen up a little but keep it like that, can you do that for me? I know you can.”

You nodded as you felt his hand moved your sundress out of the way again before gripping your ass in between his finger tip, spreading them apart to watch himself go in and out of you at a normal pace, “ Fuck yeah!”

You gripped the table as you arched your back while his cock moved in and out of your pussy, “ Rindou, baby, I love you so much!”

Rindou's eyes sparkled, but you were never going to find out because you were facing this window in his office. He stopped moving for a second to take in what you finally said to him, “ I love you too.” He was the one who said it first a week ago, but now you were saying it to him.

You turned to him with a serious look on your face, “ I'm serious, baby, don’t forget that. Now fuck me like you hate me!”

Rindou smiled before kissing you on the lips, “ You asked for it.” Rindou slapped your ass before pulling you up and wrapping on hand around your neck while the other hand was playing with your pussy, “ You’re my fucking whore! Mine!”

He started fucking into you with no remorse. At this very moment he was thinking of all your foolish arguments and all your previous dumbass comments you said and it made him more angrier. Your legs was shaking and your tits and ass was bouncing viciously.

“ Mmgh, Rindou, right there. Fuck me! Fuck me!”, You moaned while grasping the table for some type of get away.

When he saw that he pulled out of you making you whine before smacking your ass and roughly telling you to get on the table. You were scared but it was interesting too.

“ I’m about to fuck you into a position that you’ll never escape, hope your dumbass is ready!”, Rindou says before bringing your legs up, practically showing the rest of Bonten your sloppy pussy before he moves in front of their view. Both of his legs were on the table as he positioned himself on top of you.

He ripped the top part of the sundress down the middle making you gasp. He kissed you when you were about to go off on him all while bullying himself inside of your warm cunt, “ Fuck yes!”

Rindou plunged into you at a fast and inhumane pace making your pussy cry for air. You couldn’t do anything except roll your eyes to the back of your head.

“ Ohh Shit! Open your fucking mouth, bitch!”, Rindou yelled while he continued to destroy your pussy. You couldn’t hear him so he did on thing that’ll make your head him, he slapped your open titties before slapping you on your face, “ What did I fucking tell you?”

You moaned at the impact and the feeling of his cock drilling inside of your slippery pussy. You couldn’t say anything so you just opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out. Rindou smiled before gathering up spit in his throat and spitting in your mouth, “ Swallow it, right now. You drove me to be this- Ah yes, yes, fuck yes- way.”

You swallowed it with your eyes closed before opening them to his purple eyes, “ Rin, I can feel it! M’cummin.”

You tried to rise up but he suddenly out his weight on you and fucked into you while lifting your ass to meet his dick a little, “ Fucking cum, cum on my dick so you can lick it all up.”

Rindou was about to cum into your pussy too, but he always wanted you to cum first, it’s his rule of his. Bare minimum but his rule. Your legs started shaking on his body as your mouth opened with strings of saliva coating it. Your moans were so loud and so delicious to hear. You clamped down on his dick even more making him cum right after you.

His mullet was sticking to his forehead, some of his hair moved into his eyes as he threw his head back while staggering in and out of you moaning just as loud as you.

Bonten came as soon as you came while they were watching you and Rindou.

“ My brother is one lucky son of a bitch, look at the creampie. Zoom in Koko.”, Ran says as Koko caught his breath.

“ You can’t, the quality is gonna be shitty, dumbass. It’s up for him to move the camera closer.”, Koko says as he tucked his dick back into his pants.

Mikey looked around at them as he caught his breath, “ This never happened.”

The men around him hummed in agreement. They were taking this masturbation as an entire group secret to their grave. You were the one who made them do it and you should pay for it soon.

Meanwhile you and Rin were now catching your breathes, “ Come on, lick me clean.”

Rindou got off of you and sat down near the camera with a wink. Your legs were numb, but you were gonna have to wait for his aftercare which always comes after you two are officially done.

You walked over to him with shaky legs before getting down in between his legs slowly. Taking him into your mouth had Rin throwing his head back in bliss. You moved your head up and down sucking off every last drop of cum you and him created. Rin wanted so badly to fuck your kitty because it felt so good, but he stopped himself.

Rin smiled before grabbing you by the neck and planting a kiss on your lips. He bit your lip and you let him in. The make out was getting heated before he pulled away, “ Thank you, baby. Now, look into the camera and tell them who you are meant to be with and who you belong to.”

You smiled because your suspicion was right, there was a camera on you, several actually. They saw every ounce of your body and facial expressions.

You turned to the little camera and smiled, “ I belong to Rindou Haitani and Rindou Haitani alone. No one else’s, not even any of you.”

Rindou smiled before grabbing the remote. He smiled into the camera with a wink before turning it off leaving Bonten with loud groans.

“ Fuck you, Rindou!”

Rindou laughed before taking your hand and pulling you up, “ can you walk, baby?”

You nodded before taking his hand he had reached out to you. Rindou kissed you on your forehead before taking his jacket off to put it on you, “ Let’s go, baby.”

Tagging ✰: @dejwrites @simpingforwakasa04 @bontens-angel @rinhoes and anyone else who wants to be tagged

[madstwd]

Polar opposite

Daryl x Reader

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: SMUT, thigh riding, praise kink, slight mention of bad man but nothing about any actions

Season: 6

So if you didn't already know! I created a discord server! There are a bunch of awesome people on it already helping out creating inspiration to write or even just general chit chat! It's welcome to all fanfic writers or readers..hopefully I will see some of you there ❤️ hope you enjoy this fic

Mads ❤️❤️

Discord link

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Daryl was confused when he first saw you. How could someone who disliked getting dirty or muddy survive so long. When you first arrived at the gates the others were shocked to find wipes in your bag, not a few packs either, lots and lots of wipes. When asked about you, you just shrugged and said “had to get the blood off somehow”

You fit in Alexandria well, Daryl would watch you from his porch as your face lit up with some makeup a woman had given you. He wasn't sure why he was interested in you, you acted different to him, you fitted in well unlike him he always had his fair share of glares.

He watched as you walked out of the door, a sundress that fit your body beautifully, he found himself staring, he watched as the dress rose slightly as you stepped down your porch. However your cheeks weren't decorated in a light pink as he normally saw, your lashes were lengthened and thickened and your lips were glossy and smooth as they were normally every morning he saw you. Instead your face was bare, still beautiful but bare. You natural smile you would give him in the morning was also gone. You sat on your steps opposite him, putting on your boots you often left on the porch instead of the house, the smile you gave him looked forced or scared, little did the man know but since joining this was the first day you didnt feel like yourself, the dust of pink or mascara you wore on your face almost acted like a mask to hide the true pain you experienced, the reason why you carried the amount of wipes. Having never felt clean since you had to murder your friend who changed as the world did. You watched as the man stared at you, as he often did, however you saw his eyes glance over your face as he smoked his cigerette making you want to crawl inside himself. As you got up to walk to the pantry in hopes for some natural sources of pigment someone may have picked up on a run, you heard him call out to you. “Hey!” He said as he walked up to you. You gave him a weak smile as you turned to him. “Ya look down, what’s up” daryl asked. The action shocked the both of you, you knew of each other and found yourselves draw to each other in group meetings but you had never spoken to him. “Oh, It’s nothing, just something silly” you mumbled, nervously playing with a strand of your hair. Daryl watched your fingers delicately swirl the strand around your fingers. “Ain’t gunna judge ya” he said with a tight lipped smile, you nodded looking down at your feet before facing him again. “I make my own make my own make up”

“Your own what-“

You gave the man a slight frown, he sighed and nodded for you to continue. “The stuff i sometimes, we’ll always have on my face. But i ran out the other day and the pantry don’t have anything i need. I couldn’t find it close and i didnt want to pester anyone that was going on a run” you sighed, feeling stupid about this small problem. Daryl didnt say anything, he just looked at your face, his eyes glancing at where your frown was placed. Seeing you upset seemed to affect him, he was still so unsure why he felt so nervous around you, why he wanted to be closer to you, or protect you. “You know, its fine. I was stupid in wanting to keep up the luxury of it. Thank you for talking to me though” you said, giving the man a light tap on his arm. He glanced at the spot where your hand had hit, before grabbing yours turning you to face him again. “Can ya write a list? Of the things you need. Me and Carol were gunna go out. I can look for it for ya” he said. You smiled at him, “sure, let just quickly go back so i can make a list for you” you said blushing at him slightly. You had never been this close to the man, his eyes were bright and full of mystery. His hair was jagged and cut wonky but somehow complimented his face. The man followed behind you back towards your house, you could feel his arms accidentally touch your hands. Your mind started to wonder heat rising to your cheeks as you wondered what the calloused fingers would feel like inside.

“Come in, thank you for this again” you said to the man who was now awkwardly standing at your front door. He nodded, stepping inside. He noticed the flowers placed almost on ever table, some were even in the process of being dried as they were hanging around the room giving it a sweet flowery scent. “I make perfume for the women around, I feel like with all this blood and stuff it's nice to feel….pretty I guess” you said, your fingers finding their way to your hair again. The archer nodded, giving you a grunt in confirmation. He watched as the dress flew around you as you walked around the room, how it effortlessly fell against your ass each time you stopped. He watched as it rose slightly when you would bend over to grab a small notepad off your coffee table. Following your hand movements as you smoothed the dress to perch on your chair. His eyes fell upon your breasts, the cleavage the dress was showing gave him a understandment as to the size of them. He shuffled awkwardly, his cock hardening at the sight of just you existing in the sundress. “Here”

He was broken out of his thoughts at the sight of you handing him a list of ingredients that you needed. “If there's something you find that's more important then get that and not this” you rambled. Daryl's hands grabbed the paper from you, skimming over the list before giving you a nod. “Alright, should be able to get this” he mumbled, heat rising to his face as he felt his hard cock rub against the fabric of his boxers. You gave him a wide smile, the one he was used to seeing plastered on his face, making this worth it. “Just be safe, too risky or whatever, don't bother. I'd rather have you than some shitty things to make some makeup” you said, your cheeks blushing. Daryl's eyes widened slightly, heat rising to his cheeks. He nodded before following you out of the house. With one last smile he left to find Carol.

You were in the kitchen making perfumes from the dried flowers, the whole house filled with a fresh flower scent. You heard a small knock on your door, the sun was beginning to set. Daryl had yet to return so you assumed he would come by tomorrow if he had managed to get anything meaning you switched your sundress into a black silk nightie. When you opened the door you could feel the cold air rush against you, the air causing your nipples to harden and rub against the soft fabric. When the door fully opened you were met with the man himself. He stood holding a rucksack in one hand and the list in the other. You stood upright, outstretching your arm across your chest to try and hide anything. Well you wanted him to see everything but you weren't sure if he wanted to. “I um…got the things for ya” he said, stuttering. “Oh thank you! Come in” you said, ushering the man inside so you could look inside the bag. The man swallowed harshly before following you, watching your ass move with each step. He noticed your set up in the kitchen, little bottles scattered around the table, the flowers sitting in a sieve over the kitchen sink. “Can I um get you anything? Sorry I thought you were going to be tired or something and would come over later” you rambled nervously, noticing how underdressed you were compared to the man in front of you. You watched as he nervously shifted from each foot, his cheeks red as he took in your appearance. You let out an awkward cough which brought the man's attention back to your face. He shook his head, placing the bag against the chair you were just sitting on. “Hope I got the right things, you look…uh…great” the man said, stumbling over the compliment. You smiled at the man, walking over to him and placing a soft kiss on his cheek, “thank you” you blushed.

He suddenly became aware of how close you were to him, his hands itching to feel your soft skin against his fingers. Unsure of what came over him, he placed his hands on your arms and bought you close. Kissing you softly, surprising himself more than you. You yelled into the kiss but didn't take you long to melt against his lips. His hands moved from your arms to your waist pulling you even closer to his body. He could smell the flowers on your body driving his cock mad. “I'm sorry, I don't know what came over Me” he mumbled, pulling away. He began to walk out the door until he felt your hand tug him back to you, he moved with the turn, eyes landing on you again. “Don't be sorry, I like it” you blinked. The man didn't move, unsure of how to respond. His mind and heart was telling him to take it slowly but his cock was needy and desperately needed release. You pulled him towards the couch. Once his knees hit the couch he fell backward on the freshly puffed pillows. His large frame sinking into the soft cushions. He watched as you straddled his lap, your gown hitching up your thighs to point where he could see a slight slither of your underwear. Daryl inhaled sharply as he watched you begin to move your hands behind his head bringing him in for another heated kiss. He felt your hips slightly move against his already hard cock, a slight whimper falling from your lips at the movement. Daryl watched as you moved it, exposing the growing wet patch in your underwear. Daryl groaned at the sight. “Thank you for finding that stuff,” you said, pullin back to see the flustered man. He gave you a smile, a genuine wall. “No need if I get rewarded like this. Why do ya want the stuff anyway” he asked, his fingers rubbing softly against your thighs.

You sighed, “a man, my best friend I had to kill, he changed with the world…tried to- it doesn't matter. I had his blood on me, I felt disgusted. No matter how many wipes I used to rid my arms or make myself feel like someone different it never worked. The make up felt like a mask, made me feel pretty so I didn't feel like I did when he did that” you confirmed. Daryl nodded, he felt his heart break at your words. “Well ya beautiful without it too. I can show you” he said. You nodded, feeling his hands move up your tights under the fabric of the dress. He slipped your underwear off, your wetness leaking onto his jeans. He started to kiss your neck, his hands prompting you to move against his thigh, you followed, starting off at a fast pace nerdy and eager for a long wanted release, your fingers never felt good enough. Instead the man refused, asking you to get up whilst he stripped himself from his jeans. You felt yourself grow wetter at the sight of the damn patch on his jeans. You watched as his cock sprung up against his stomach, the head angry and red. You gasped at his size but eager for it to be inside your walls. Daryl sat back down, spread his legs to make room for you. “Sit on it” he said. You began to lift the dress, you could feel the silk fabric sliding against your stomach, your breasts starting to fall out of their designated spots. “Keep it on” he begged. You nodded, allowing the dress to fall down, the strap now falling off your shoulder exposing the soft skin of your upper breast. As you adjusted him, your cold fingers wrapped around his length, when finally in the right spot you slowly lowered herself onto him. You waited for a few moments allowing yourself to stretch around his girth. His lips attract her to a nipple he had pulled the dress fabric to expose. The other hand prompts you to move, his fingers squeezing your hips to help you move faster. The moans leaving his lips meld with yours, spurring you on. His cock moving perfectly inside of you, the angle just right that his small amount of hair rubs against your clit. “I'm close Daryl” you whined, your eyes screwing shut. “Such a pretty girl for me, dressing so lovely in those dresses everyday. And for me to come back and see you all dressed in this” he groaned. You whimpered, your head falling into the crook of his neck, “no girl, let me see you. I wanna see your bare face as I cum into you” he said, his voice becoming low and demanding. You nodded, the man angled his hips differently as you changed pace, he was now hitting your G-spot every time you moved against him. “Fuck, we going to cum together beautiful okay” he groaned. You nodded, moving faster to bring his release, too close to your own you had no idea if you could hold on. His fingers circled your clit as his lips attatched themselves to your nipple. It wasn't long until the man let out a large groan, falling back against the soft cushions. You could feel his cock twitch, his hips driving it deeper in you as he came. The sound he made was enough to allow the knot in your stomach to break. You body sweaty fell against his, but instead of moving to wipe yourself down with a wipe or towel to get rid of the sweat you stayed. Finally feeling free from the blood of the horrid man you thought was your friend. Cleansed by this rugged man.

The following morning Daryl watched from your bed as you mixed the pigments he found, to create the light pink on your cheeks and eyes. He watched as you put on your mask to the rest of the community feeling somewhat proud that he was the one that saw it when it was removed. You smiled at him through the mirror. The man's heart just melted, as irritating it was going to find everything with Carol questioning why he was doing it, it was worth it seeing your smile first thing in morning.

[holdinbacksecrets]

svt members mtl likely to contact an ex shortly after a breakup? ily 💗

AN: this shifted to more of a speaking after the break up in any length of time mtl

soonyoung: he calls the day after your breakup, hoping it was all a dream

seungkwan: he calls a couple days after you broke up to share a moment from his day because doing so comes naturally, but the confusion in your voice is a crashing wave of reality

mingyu: honestly, he just wants to know you’re ok and eating, and still maintaining some kind of routine because the love and care he has for you are embedded— they’re not going anywhere, not even after your break up

wonwoo: the two of you decided to stay in touch, but it takes time for someone to reach out. he does first and sends a picture of the sky on september 22 because you always used to say the sky has a different outfit for every season, but he can’t tell if it’s still wearing a sundress

jeonghan: he calls to ask questions he could easily find answers to on his own, but he likes hearing your reactions to his nonsensical wonders. also, you keep answering. he’ll keep calling until you stop

jihoon: he called you once on accident, but your conversation lasted hours. he keeps calling after that, once a week at least, all on purpose

hansol: birthdays and holidays are the only times you reach out to one another

seokmin: he calls when he’s drunk. you listen to the voicemails over and over again through headphones. you can’t remember the last time music played instead

jun: he doesn’t call you until winter comes, and his thoughts are wrapped around the meals he used to make for you. memories of your just-woken-up self stumbling form your bedroom to eat his just-finished stew are painful, and he lets himself admit to missing you before dialing

seungcheol: can i tell you a secret? he’s seen you so many times. how, he doesn’t know, but he always avoids you. he’ll say something eventually; it’s just that he can’t bear the thought of saying your name when he never did before

joshua: he asks people you’re close with if you’re doing ok. as soon as they mention passing on the message, he’s quick to ask them not to

chan: the number of times he’s written out texts before deleting them would break your heart

minghao: he wouldn’t have been so emotional during your break up if he foresaw continued communication

[lovemeian]

sundress season—

characters ! midoriya izuku, bakugo katsuki, shoji mezo, kirishima eijiro x f!reader.

highly suggestive in parts esp. in: bakugo, fluff + my favourite season is sundress season + aged up characters, as always + all my boys are pro heroes now hehe + no spoilers, so feel free + kirishima out here acting like //sugar daddy// but that’s it lmao !

masterlist. ; taglist! ; talk to me, gush, say hi

MIDORIYA IZUKU—

mans would be blushing so intensely, someone help him, it’s a ripe watermelon. idek why i’m flaming him here at the very first sentence idek, i adore this boy, i do. anyways— it’s rare to have your boyfriend at home, always on patrol and working himself to the absolute limit. but when he spends an entire day to unwind, he unwinds. most of the time it’s just catching on sleep. you always try your best to make sure his sleep is content and maxed, making sure the covers are as floofy as they can be, calm lavender and mint scents diffuser in the room.

it was a sunday, and sundays are spent doing a lot of errands on your part, weekly grocery as one of the most important one. so you finish dressing up, picking the sundress you bought for this spring in a nice deep emerald with soft daisy patterns, wanting to look cute for the grocery store (as one does). your very first thought was how pretty it was, thinking immediately of your boyfriend and his bright green hair. you hitch up your hair with a clip, take your things, and gently pad over to your boyfriend snoring on the bed, on his stomach and to wake him up slowly.

“hon? i’m going to the grocery for a bit, d’you want anything?”

“mhm.” his eyes blink blearily, thick and almost sewn shut together. you sit on the side of the bed, smiling as you continue to run your fingers across his scalp. his groans are soft and content as he pulls back, smiling at you. “g’morning. you look nice, babe.” his eyes roam across your figure, his hand reaching across your waist and moulding the material of your dress between his fingers. 

“thank you, but it’s afternoon actually. just about to go on a grocery run and i was going to ask what you wanted?”

“i’m coming!” he sits upright, so suddenly that vertigo rushed in and knocked him back down with a little oomph.

“whoa there, i don’t think you are, cowboy. you have to rest, it’s your day off.”

“nah, gotta challenge everyone who gives you eyes.” you made a face at him, but he’s already sitting back up and stretching deep, groaning at every sore muscle; his bright skin roughened through years of being a hero, littered with scars that you love kissing.

“you’re silly.”

he smiles, warm and blooming as he reaches over and kisses your forehead, softly rubbing your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “i’m in love, darling. and you’re too much of a catch for other people not think not to, and you’re too nice to tell them to fuck off.” his eyes turn mischievous. “also— i think i’m a really cute arm candy, hm?”

“you just want to show off my dress is the same colour as your hair!” you shout after him, entering the bathroom.

“of course!”

BAKUGO KATSUKI—

bakugo katsuki, top-tier number two hero, has promptly malfunctioned. 

he’s been impatiently waiting for you by the car as you finished dressing up after saying ‘in a minute, calm your horses!’ in the last hour... until you came out of the house, scowl on your pretty face as you made sure the house was secure, and fixed your shoes on properly, scrambling to get to the car.

“you need to learn some fuckin’ patience— hey, why’re you cutting the engine off?” you ask as you finish buckling yourself up, adjusting your dress that hitched up from the entire struggle.

“we’re not going,” he grumbled, knuckles tight against the steering wheel.

you raised an eyebrow. “what do you mean, we’re not going? did you finally exploded the rest of your brain cells?” his jaw tightens but does nothing. you roll your eyes. “your mother’s waiting for us and she has as much patience as you. although, she does adore me, i don’t want her to smack you in the head as much as possible. your poor brain cells.”

he meets your gaze head on. “you’re being a brat.”

“i am not. why? ‘ya liking what you’re seeing?” you smirk, adjusting your seat, more than aware of his eyes unable to not flicker back to the dress you’re wearing. its a light yellowish cream with bright red camellia blossoms across crumpled hems with a thigh slit. you adjust your top, making his eyes dart to the tops of your breasts, right where a necklace he had gotten for you on a whim, a simple one with a k and a small ruby embedded on it.

he growls. “get back in.”

“katsu, really, you—”

but he grasped your face and moulded his lips to yours. it’s hot and wet, and you melt into his touch. he smirked at your dopey face as you broke from each other. “inside, baby. think we should put that dress to good use, hm?”

“oh, but i really like it,” you muttered. “it’s your colours after all.”

his eyes darkened. “we don’t have to take it off.” his thumb made slow circles on your sides, nose brushing against your ear. “i’ll be extra careful.”

SHOJI MEZO—

your boyfriend was so sweet, turning into a tomato as soon as he sees you come out from the train station. you don’t see him just yet, your eyes checking your phone, typing him a text, so he has a good few minutes to stare at you in what possibly be the prettiest outfit he’s ever seen you in. the dress flutters ever so briefly, cinched across the waist and featured white angels across lavender.

with one hand, he took a quick photo, reminding himself to put it as a wallpaper later, as he waved his hand as soon as your eyes come across the area he was in.

you wait in the crosswalk impatiently, half bouncing in your heels until the light turned green and he burst out laughing as you practically skipped towards him, shouting, “brace yourself, 'zo!” as you completely leaped into his arms, tying yourself like cherry knots around him as he caught you with an oomph! and a laugh. he spun you once, twice, until both of you are a giggling and pedestrian-annoying mess.

“alright, alright, that’s enough.” you patted him in the shoulder to get you down, but not before taking his primary hands to brace yourself to your toes, and give him a noisy smooch just to see his face burn bright red. you giggled at it. “ain’t you a pretty picture?”

he took your hand in his, admiring you in your dress and the love you were basking him in. “you’re prettier, sweetheart,” he said shyly. “the prettiest picture.”

“mmh. take lots of me later, m’kay?”

“always.” and that wasn’t a lie. you were mezo’s favourite subject, always the prettiest under his gaze.

KIRISHIMA EIJIRO—

the low whistle that your lover released brings the exact same colour of burgundy red to your cheeks, flushing at his appraisal as you try not to fidget or throw something at him. anything to hide under that appreciative, almost half hungry look.

“where are you going looking like that?” he blinked, his grin frozen. “are we— oh, shit is it our anniversary? is it your birthday? but your birthday’s not for another month, and the necklace i ordered isn’t going to arrive until—” he slapped a hand on his mouth as you smirked at him. “you heard nothing.”

you rolled your eyes at him as you sat next to him on the couch, his hands fast, pulling you to his lap before your butt could touch the fake leather, nestling you in his arms and hiding on the crook of your neck. you shivered at every rumbly hum that came out of him, leaving a trail of goosebumps across your skin.

“you’re so silly, ‘jiro.” you sigh, bringing your hand to pat his head and curl your fingers through his hair. “your hair’s almost fading. i was just going to hit the pharmacy after my lunch with the girls.”

“are you trying to one up one of ‘em? or all of ‘em?”

“no! why?”

“‘cos you’re going to make them feel bad lookin’ like this.” he smirks as he presses a particularly spongy kiss on your shoulder. you bat him away, tsking as he captures your hand and intertwines it with his on your lap.

“let me rephrase. you’re not silly, you’re stupid.”

“and you’re too pretty in my colours.” he kissed your neck, lightly sucking.

“stop that! if you leave a hickey, i swear.”

“alright, alright.” he releases you as you huff at him, crimson and flushed red, you re-adjusted your dress. he can’t stop looking at how nice you look in it. it really was his colours with the repeating patterns of black lillies and lighter shades of spider lilies. “take lots of pictures for me, will you? i’ll give you my card, order anything you girls want.”

made by lavi <3

taglist: @asaitashi​, @jadasz​, @encrytpta​, @cafeous​, @iworshipyelena​, 

[shemarmooresfedora]

Splish Splash

Summary: A pool day with the team and you and Spencer’s daughter. (Season 1 Cast)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: domestic fluff, swearing, mentions of poop and vomit

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: i included a lot of linked visuals because it helps me visualize better!

Masterlist

“Are you sure we have everything? I don’t want to forget something and have them think we’re bad parents. But they already know and like you so they’ll just think I’m a bad parent,” you nervously rambled.

You had only met Spencer’s team a few times before. He was hand-plucked right out of college by Jason Gideon. Of course, you being 6 months pregnant with his baby, dropped out of college and moved across the country with him.

When you first got pregnant, Spencer always promised he was going to give you and this baby the life you deserved so when his dream job offer came across the table with a hefty salary, Spencer assured you that you could take some time off college if you wanted.

By the time Spencer made it through all the mandated FBI training, he was in the office for one week before you went into labor and he went on paternity leave. You heard the stories about how he went pale and almost fainted in the bullpen when you called him.

Now, a little over a year later, you were pregnant again because who could deny Spencer another baby? He loved Sawyer with his whole heart.

“I’ve got diapers, sunscreen, her favorite toys, multiple changes of clothes, her bottle, and milk,” Spencer listed off the things in the diaper bag as you changed Sawyer.

“Do you like her pool look?” you grinned, “We may have gone on a bit of a shopping spree while you were away on that last case.”

Sawyer was sporting mini pigtails that held the little amount of hair she did have and a strawberry bathing suit with a matching bucket hat.”

“You are just the cutest little thing,” Spencer grabbed her, “I’m going to eat you up like a strawberry,” Spencer blew raspberries on her belly as she happily giggled.

“I got you a suit too,” you threw him a short lavender swimsuit that would barely hit his mid-thighs but that’s what you liked about it.

-

“So glad you guys could make it,” Hotch greeted you at the front door.

“We brought fruit salad,” you held up the giant bowl.

“Oh, thank you,” Hotch took the bowl and guided you both out to the back deck where the rest of the team was already hanging out.

Before you had even put your tote bag down, Spencer was already forcing sunscreen onto you.

“It’s so sticky,” you whined.

“I just did Sawyer and she’s not complaining,” Spencer looked at the giggly little girl in his arms.

“Well, Sawyer is used to her Daddy being all over her all the time,” you giggled.

You slipped the flowy sundress off, revealing your protruding belly bump.

“Oh mama, someone is definitely starting to show,” Penelope hollered from her unicorn floaty in the pool, already tipsy.

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” you groaned, rubbing your stomach, “I feel like a big, sweaty whale.”

Spencer gave you a disapproving glare, “You look gorgeous, love.”

“You have to say that, we’re married,” you replied.

“Well, I’m saying it too. You look gorgeous, Y/N. I love the pregnancy glow,” Elle made her way over to greet you both.

“Thanks, Elle,” you smiled.

“Hey Sawyer! I missed you, babe!” Elle took your daughter from Spencer and kissed her cheek, “I feel like I haven’t seen you in months.”

“I know, it was tough when you guys had all those back-to-back cases,” you answered, “I was considering sending Sawyer on the jet with you guys because she was starting to miss her daddy too much.”

“That’s why she clings to me when I’m here,” Spencer laughed as Sawyer made a grabby motion with her hands, indicating she wanted Spencer to hold her again.

“You want to go in the water, sweetheart?” Spencer asked Sawyer who was staring at the froggy tube in the water.

“That’s Jack’s favorite tube, Sawyer, but I’m sure he’ll share,” Hotch smiled from where he was grilling burgers and hotdogs.

Jack, who was a few months older than Sawyer, was napping in his playpen next to his dad.

“Mind if I sit here?” you pointed to the lounge chair next to Gideon.

“Not at all,” he said, setting down the newspaper he was skimming.

You cautiously lowered yourself into the chair, trying not to lose your balance with your big belly. You and Gideon watched Spencer dip Sawyer’s little toes into the water and then pull her back up as she giggled.

“You know when I first recruited Spencer, I definitely hadn’t been expecting him to already have a family on the way. He got all excited, showing me the picture of you that he kept in his wallet. I almost tried talking him out of the job, saying it’s not for a family man. However, he insisted that he wanted to get rid of as many monsters as he could for his wife and daughter.”

“I can’t say that I like the long hours and time away that comes with his job but I respect it. He’s doing amazing work, you all are,” you replied.

“Thank you, dear,” Gideon smiled softly, “Spencer is very lucky to have found someone so understanding. Your job is pretty tough too, raising kids is no joke.”

“Thank you,” you smiled back, “It’s not easy but it’s so worth it.”

Derek took off his shades, setting them down on a chair before running towards the diving board full speed.

“Cannonball!” he yelled.

His ginormous splash reached all the way over to the shallow section, covering Spencer and Sawyer in her little tube, who promptly started crying.

“Oh no, my poor baby,” Spencer lifted her out of her tube and carried her out to swaddle in a dry towel.

Elle whacked Derek with a pool noodle once he emerged from beneath the water’s surface.

“Hey! What did you do that for?” Derek rubbed his head.

“You made Sawyer cry,” she replied, thwacking him again.

Derek climbed out of the pool on the ladder and made his way over to the two loving parents swarming over their crying child.

“Sorry about that, Sawyer. Guess I underestimated my splash,” Derek apologized to the little child who wouldn’t even be able to understand.

“It’s okay, Derek,” you assured him, “It’s just coming up on her nap time so she’s more prone to cry.”

Spencer caught a whiff of it as soon as he sat down on the lounge chair with you and Sawyer.

He took Sawyer from you and pretended to be speaking as her, making his voice higher-pitched, “Actually, Uncle Derek, if you want to make it up to me, you can change my diaper.”

“Uh uh,” Derek shook his head profusely, “I wrap it before I tap it for a reason, man.”

“I bet you could win a few single moms over if you knew how to change a diaper,” you added.

“Fine,” Derek accepted Sawyer into his arms but held her an arms length away like she was a bomb.

“I’ll teach you,” Spencer slung the diaper bag over his shoulder.

-

About 15 minutes later, Spencer came out with Sawyer on his hip and a traumatized Derek following them.

“What took so long?” you asked curiously.

“Morgan could only use one hand because he insisted on plugging his nose with the other,” Spencer chuckled.

“That shit stank!” Derek argued, “I’ve smelled dead bodies that are better than that.”

“I think your debt has been repaid,” you laughed as Derek sat himself on a tube next to Penelope in the water.

“Thank god,” he sighed, “I’m going to need a hazmat suit if you guys ever need me to babysit.”

“Who said you get to babysit?” Penelope looked up from her romance novel.

“I think Auntie Elle is being overlooked here,” Elle added from where she was sunbathing.

“Sawyer needs some time at Grandpa Gideon’s cabin. I think she will like watching the birds,” Gideon smiled fondly.

“Everyone who wants to watch Sawyer will eventually get to watch her,” you explained, “But I think you will have to pry her out of her Daddy’s hands.”

“How about date nights every Wednesday as long as we aren’t away on a case?” Spencer suggested, “Then someone can take Sawyer for the night.”

“Sounds good to me, love,” you kissed him and took Sawyer from his arms, “I think I’m going to join Sawyer in nap time today. Little one is really not having it today.”

Spencer rubbed your belly, “Is there anything I can do? Do you want something to eat or drink? I think JJ just finished making some potato salad,” he offered.

“I’m sure it’s really good but the thought of that right now is making me extremely nauseous,” you whispered.

Spencer guided you to the hammock in the shade and sat you down with a sleepy Sawyer in your arms.

“Sweet dreams, loves,” he kissed you both on the forehead and once on your belly.

You murmured something along the lines of ‘I love you too’ before drifting off.

Spencer pulled up a chair and just watched you both sleep. It was one of his favorite things to do. The peaceful look on your beautiful face with his adorable child gently cradled in your arms. Spencer’s eyes watched your belly bump rise and fall with each of your even breaths. You were heavenly, an absolute work of art in his mind. No other goddess could ever compare.

After about 40 minutes, Sawyer began to stir but you were still fast asleep. Spencer gently took her from your hold in order to let you continue to rest.

Spencer sat down at the table where the rest of the team was eating, pulling out a bag of your breast milk from his cooler and pouring it into a bottle for Sawyer. He accidentally spilled a little on his finger and instinctively licked it off.

“Alright, ew,” Derek set his fork down on his plate in disgust.

“What?” Spencer asked, “Breast milk is packed full of nutrients. It’s good for you.”

“I’ll taste it,” Elle volunteered.

“I wanna too!” Penelope demanded.

“Nope, I don’t know why I have to clarify this but no one is drinking my wife’s breast milk except me and Sawyer,” Spencer stated.

“Well this is an interesting way to wake up,” you grinned, rubbing your eyes, “Penelope and Elle, I appreciate the eagerness though.”

You sat down in the chair next to Spencer as he fed Sawyer. You nibbled on the fruit salad you brought and took a few sips of water.

“This all looks delicious, Hotch. Thank you. I wish I could eat more but I don’t want to puke in the pool later.”

“No worries. The morning sickness is still bad?” he asked.

“They should have named it ‘morning, afternoon, and night sickness’ because that seems more fitting,” you joked.

Spencer rubbed your belly softly which always seemed to calm your nausea, “She’s so strong. I feel so bad, I wish I could take all the pain away.”

“No, he’s a saint. He stays up with me all night if I can’t sleep even if he has work in the morning,” you told the team.

“That’s the very least I can do,” Spencer said.

“You both are just too cute!” Penelope exclaimed.

Dancing Queen by ABBA came on through the speakers, coincidentally a song you played a lot both times you were pregnant because it made the babies very active.

Spencer danced with Sawyer who could stand with a little assistance so he placed her on his feet and held her hands so he could move her around with him.

Penelope grinded up against Derek perhaps a bit too much for a Sunday afternoon with coworkers and you laughed as Spencer shielded Sawyer’s eyes. Hotch twirled Jack around in circles.

JJ and Elle brought out a chocolate cake for dessert and you passed it up despite how good it looked, knowing you wouldn’t be able to keep it down.

Spencer noticed you kept squeezing his hand tighter than usual.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

“Yeah, I think the baby is just having a hard time getting comfortable or something…FUCK,” you hissed at the pain.

Everyone stopped their side conversations to look at you.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” JJ asked.

“Yeah sorry, I think I may need to lie down again,” you slowly got up as Spencer grabbed your arm to support you.

You felt a flush of water run down your leg that was way warmer than the pool water.

“Okay then it’s not just in my head. Those really were contractions,” you spoke, “Spencer Reid, this baby is coming out of me.”

This time, you got to see Spencer’s face pale and him go into a state of shock firsthand.

“Spencer,” you whined at the pain again, doubling over.

This seemed to snap him out of the daze he was in.

“Okay, we have the go-bag in the car. It will take us 17 minutes and 23 seconds to get to the hospital including the estimated traffic. I’ll call the obstetrician. Elle and Gideon, it’s your lucky day, you get to babysit. Here’s her diaper bag and a spare key to our house to get her more clothes.”

“What about us?” Derek and Penelope whined.

“You’re both drunk. You can tap in when you’re sober,” Spencer stated, “Okay, let’s go, love. You’re doing so good already. Remember, deep breaths just like the lamaze instructor said.”

“Spencer, tell them I want all the drugs they can give me,” you panted.

“I will,” he nodded, “Anything you need, love. I’ll be right by your side the whole time. Then, after the pain, we’ll get to meet the new baby and you can hold her in your arms forever.”

Spencer continued to make assurances and promises to you as him and Hotch guided you to the car.

“Why don’t we get to help?” Derek and Penelope pouted.

“You can hose her amniotic fluid off of the porch,” Elle replied with a smirk as Gideon rocked Sawyer.

A/N: thank you to @samuel-de-champagne-problems for beta reading!! <3

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[magpie-to-the-morning]

for your one-word prompts: Frankie + “bloom” + whatever vibe you’re feeling today!!

V!! I hope you like this quick little drabble, which gave me an excuse to play around in the Sundress Season world some more 💕

A/N: Warnings for nightmares, allusions to Frankie’s PTSD, and also tooth rotting sweetness.

He’s flat on his back in the driveway when you get home from a rare solo excursion to the nearby farmers market. Frankie usually comes with, but he’d sat it out this time to work on his pickup.

He’d spent most of last night thrashing in his sleep, coming awake with a shout and only calming after spending an hour with his head in your lap while you ran your fingers through his sweat-damp hair and murmured low, comforting nonsense words. The worst of the tremors subsided at your warm, soothing touch, though his skin remained clammy as you’d talked to him.

Shh, it’s ok, baby.

You’re home.

I’ve got you.

It had been a bad night, and you hadn’t batted an eye at him muttering something about needing to fix his truck. You’d left him with some fresh coffee, a plate of breakfast, and your honest assurances that you didn’t mind going solo this time. He’d still been tense when you left, though his shoulders eased a bit when you’d kissed him goodbye - and promised to bring him one of his favorite pastries from that stall he liked.

Frankie doesn’t rise to greet you on your return so you nudge his boot with your foot, though you know he would have heard your own car crunching up the gravel.

“Hey you.” You can’t help the thread of worry winding tighter inside you. Did he get any more sleep before you left? Should you call someone?

“Hey, baby.”

You breathe a quick sigh of relief at his answer. He sounds tired, but more present than he had that morning.

“How’s the truck?”

Frankie pulls himself out from under the pickup, his khaki pants and white t-shirt streaked with engine oil. You can see a smudge of it across his cheek as he blinks up at you. The sun shines brightly behind you, likely making his transition back into the real world a little blinding.

“Still a little rusty but we’re getting there,” he says with a knowing quirk of his mouth. He knows damn well you’re not just asking about the state of his truck.

Juggling the paper bags in your arms, you free a hand and offer it to him. Frankie rises to his feet with an apologetic grin.

“Don’t want to get you dirty, too. Not in that dress.”

It’s one of his favorites, a flirty sundress with a delicate floral print, one just too short to be considered modest. The first flicker of interest you’d seen from him that morning had come when you’d flounced into the kitchen wearing it, the skirt belling around your thighs and giving him a teasing glimpse of skin.

You heft the bags onto the hood of his truck with a snort and reach for him with both hands. Making a half-hearted noise of protest, Frankie attempts to dodge but you’re too fast for him, planting a kiss directly on his lips, you hands cupping his jaw.

“Since when have I ever minded getting a little dirty, Francisco?” You give his name the throaty purr it deserves, your eyes flashing with mischief and earning you a genuine smile.

“Malo,” he chides you, but there’s only affection in the kiss he brushes against your forehead before he shimmies away, still careful not to let your dress touch his grease-stained clothing.

“Let me help you with these.” He takes two of the bags and moves to head into the kitchen when he stops short at the sight of a bunch of flowers peeking out of the top, swallowing and darting you a quick, guilty look.

“Cariño, I’m sorry I didn’t go with you today. You shouldn’t have had to buy your own -“

You cut him off with another kiss. “They’re not for me.”

He frowns, puzzled, and you can practically see his mind whirring to come up with any potential missed occasions or social obligations.

You hand him the brown paper and twine wrapped bouquet, explaining “Remember that book I had out about Victorians and how they used flowers to send messages? I put this together for you. Look, the marigolds are for comfort and protection, the daisies are for love, and the lavender - well, I just thought they might be good for sleep, you know?”

Frankie blinks at you. “You bought me flowers?” You’re not sure if the hint of shyness is at the gesture itself, or the care you put into it, but either way you make sure his eyes are in yours before answering.

“Yes Frankie, I bought you flowers. Now come inside and help me put them in some water.”

He pulls you into a fierce, one-armed hug, his lips pressing a swift kiss to the crown of your head before he steps back, making no move to hide the way his dark eyes are shining.

After a beat, he looks into the bags once more. “You still got me those cinnamon rolls though, right?”

“Menace,” you chuckle. “Yes, they’re in there, too.”