#fuck it why not throw this in the tags so you may all be blessed by my tav’s beautiful cunty little face

[jojea]

i’ve been staring at them for five hours now 👁️👁️

bonus screenshot of my guardian! the only one i got before rushing to get my steamdeck to the charger r i p

[astralnymphh]

patterned palmistry ⋆ | ellie williams headcanons

༺ ellie x witch!reader headcanons/scenarios ༻ ☽𖤐☾

✧˖ ° 🕯 bright blessings!

an: being the witchy little gremlin i am i just had to throw some hcs together for myself but ofc i'd share them here🙄ive been practicing witchcraft since i was 15 so it felt fitting to incorporate it whenever i brace my delusions at the bootycrack of midnight that r all abt ellie 💀 regardless this def isnt gonna be my only witchy hcs post i just didnt wanna spoil all my ideas right away <3 tags: MDNI, slight nsfw (no detailed smut), boob jokes, witchcraft (obv), tarot, palm reading, mostly convos, flirting, not mentioned in the writing but u 2 r alrdy dating, playful bickering, more natural casual writing with some bigger words, no specific religion tied to the practice, generally a fluff piece, lowk cute moments. °________________________⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆__________________________°

I. ☆ ellie definitely had a peak in curiosity the first time you mentioned you immerse yourself in the world of the craft, her ears perked figuratively and were tuned in to learn what that entails. she may not forfeit a nip of skepticism right away but she's more than happy to engross herself in the idea of it. you'd stay up till first light rambling on about the 'rituals', 'divination', the history tied to it and why you practice it. you'd be lying in bed adjacent to her, heavenward to the ceiling, but interwoven in a warm and loving cuddle with her palm residing on your lap whilst you chatted.

"mmmmh-" ellie's hum churns 'round your bedroom, "so that's why you collect rocks."

"crystals."

"same thing," she drones an inwardly giggle, "which crystal will give me superpowers?" a witty remark springs from her tongue.

"babe.." you pout, acting offended yet none is taken.

"didn't mean it like that, y'know I believe you, it's all just new to me." ellie tapes an assuring kiss to your temple, "tell me about your favorite crystals, hmm?" 

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

II. ☆ now because of this, anytime you're out on patrol and delight the opportunity of scavenging, she always keeps in mind to find you flowers, rocks, unused candles and other oddities of nature.

"hey babe! I found a black candle for'ya." ellie bolstered a long glass cylinder filled with an opaque charcoal wax, wick still intact, "and- ..some wild lavender." her other arm swings from behind her back, twines of dusty purple lavender upheld in a pinch.

"fuck yeah, needed this stuff.." you graciously tweak the lavender from her, whiffing up its poignant scent.

"always on the lookout.." her voice resembles her proud countenance outwards, essentially, a dorky smirk.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

III. ☆ obviously, the second you mentioned the art of tarot to her, she begged for a reading. whenever a card flew from your shuffling motions, she'd patiently wait for you to place it before her and then she'd swipe it up and admire the art piece detailing the cardstock.

"whew! look at the boobs on this one!" 

"oh- my god, of course you'd point that out." you snatch the card from her, shamelessly ogling the nude depiction that had her attention.

"you're looking at them too!"

"cuz' you said something 'bout it!" you flick the card towards her face, noting, "those are some nice boobs though." 

"why thank you~" 

"wasn't talking about you, idiot!" 

"eh, but.. urs' are the best." her hoarse tone binds a nonchalant flirtiness in its rumble.

"oh really? should we compare the.. four?"

that really stole her attention.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

IV. ☆ the first time you entertained her with a palm reading, it had her all dappy and touched to the essence at the paltry contact you made with her hand. your fingerprints drafting her calloused palms with such a gentle focus on every river lining her hand. she just wanted to smother you with kisses.

"and… this is your heart line." your finger hovers the crevice of her palm-pads stretching from index to pinkie, "ah.. it's a broken one.."

"is that.. bad?" her juniper eyes study your expression meticulously.

"it just means u're closed off, stubborn, have some emotional trauma.. stuff like that." you mindlessly fiddle with her fingers, "lines can change though, so.."

she nods, taking in the insight. she licks her slightly chapped lips clean, "am I stubborn?" her voice rises partially an octave, bending playfulness in her question.

"mm.. no."

"why'd you hesitate?"

"well- the only times ur' stubborn is refusing to let go whenever you hug me- ur' a life-size sloth!" 

"I like huggin' you though." a puppy pout frowns on her lips, "you're like a pillow!"

and oh, how your heart capers a beat, "is that all I am, williams?"

her swift speech conjuncts, "whaddid' I say about that name?!"

"I don't know, I think you like it." 

"nuh-uh I don't!"

you pepper a haste kiss to her knuckles still forcepped in your clasp, totally deterring the crime you've just committed when a half impish half taken aback smile creaks her lips.

"c'mere." vaults from her tongue before she lunges her body forward and tackles you in a saucy position riddled with love bites. guess you'll be reading her palms in a different way tonight.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ V. ☆ an bonus hc, you'd totally mention out of the void about her tattoo n the mystic meanings surrounding moths, like, its for sure one of the topics you'll ramble about one night cause you just feel so wise for knowing. "y'know, moths play a pretty large role in the metaphysical world." "really? i mean, i knew they had some kind of.. 'symbolism' to them-" ellie's hand rolls over the knoll of her forearm, reading the bumps glamoured in that beautiful inking. "yeah, like- luna moths represent transformation, renewal.. oh! and death-head moths are an omen of death.. an- and black witch moths mean either good luck, or bad-" ellie is amused at your prattle shown by her raspy giggles, legitimately having to conceal her scrunched face. "what?" "nothin' you- you're just so cute." "stop.." the embarrassment catches up to you, now having to hide your face to the shadows beneath your hands. her finger cranes out to hook and uncover your nerdy grin, assuring, "never stop tellin' me bout this stuff, ok babe?" a wide delighted beam syncs on her cheeks. goddess above, her dimples and nasal lines are to die for. ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

𖤐

in general; she's a curious dork n will ask you oh so many questions, i mean, she loves space and a futuristic sci-fi comic for crying out loud, she's alrdy so imaginative so ofc she'd be open to a realistic amount. she'd also be so respectful and helpful n defend ur practice with so much love. maybe she'd pick up some little traditions and customs like folding letters a specific amount of times, drawing little pentacles, mixing liquid in specific directions, just the simple things that grow on her.

[afriendlyblackhottie]

Dangerous Woman

Summary: you’ve been a thorn in Lloyd’s side for too long. Turned out you were wearing him down.

Warnings: smut, minors dni, daddy kink, dub/non con towards the end, creampie, rough sex, name calling, if there’s any tags I missed please tell me lol

(A/N: there’s no way I’m alone in my new obsession with Lloyd Hensen so I wrote this fic hoping others would see my vision. Unedited. Like, follow, and reblog with a comment 💜 ✌🏾)

———-—————-—-—————-———

It was an understatement to say that Lloyd saw you as a thorn in his side.

The way you seemed to pop up wherever he may be. Trying to get your hands on the same shit as him. Who the hell did you even think you were, trying to step to him. Must have been out of your goddamn mind.

You’d fancied yourself as a “good guy.” He took it more so to mean you were just boring. Couldn’t keep up in a world like his so you had to become a whatever the fuck you were trying to do to feel like you were doing something special.

But what were you really doing aside from annoying the fuck out of him? Not much. Well except…

It wasn’t often that a man like Lloyd found someone that could keep up with him in the slightest. He liked being one step ahead in any given situation. Was a man with a plan even if those plans didn’t account for any casualties. He didn’t give a shit if people died as long as he was still living the world was blessed with his presence and that was all anyone needed.

So when you started popping up like a gnat to the finest fruit, he knew he had to squash you somehow. Not like he was against playing dirty to get to where he needed to be. Just because you wanted to be a goody two shoes doesn’t mean he cared. If anything it only made him want to get you to cut this shit out sooner.

Such a shame though. In another life he could have marveled at your beauty. Found you cute enough that he’d even be willing to make an honest woman out of you if you didn’t annoy him so fucking much. Maybe that’s what made it worse. Crushing on the enemy? What the fuck was this? Middle school?

But first he needed to find out who the hell you were working for. So far the CIA had been ruled out. You didn’t appear to be a cop. Unaffiliated with that other shmuck and his team. That was the strange part.

Yet you managed to keep up somehow. Funny how that worked.

First it started out with you intercepting a “package” he was supposed to pick up. Then you somehow ended up getting your hands on a very expensive painting that he was pretty sure was meant to be hung up in his humble abode of a mansion in Croatia. And he was pretty sure you were responsible for that building blowing up when he had his eyes on a target.

The paranoia had started eating at him. Making him feel like he always had to watch over his back. Grown men hadn’t bothered him as much as you had. Each encounter seeming to be a bigger version of the one before and that’s why he was making it his mission to destroy you.

——————————————————

“I would have had her if you stupid fucks would stay the fuck out of my way!” He yelled as he stomped up their stairs. Not wanting everyone to know how things had really went down.

This was supposed to be easy as hell. Should have been an in and out if anything. Just take you out and boom he could finally move on from this game of cat and mouse. 

He had you! The two of you finally getting into it one on one when he found you alone on top of the building. Was just about to pin you down when the team came up. Making you do a quick disappearing act.

Before anyone could respond because it’s not like he gave any fucks about what excuses they came up with, he stomped up the stairs. One more move away from throwing a full blown tantrum. This shit should not be this fucking hard.

Lloyd huffed as he retreated to his bedroom. For once didn’t even want to say anything anymore. Probably because this was total and complete bullshit.

For once he wasn’t getting his way and he really didn’t fucking like it. It wasn’t like they didn’t know who the fuck you were. It was like you weren’t even trying to hide it. Of course he had the technology to crack your nothing ass passwords. It was the same for everything.

Sure there were things they had nothing on like your family and where you came from, but they knew your name. Your fucking phone number. What you looked like.

Almost like you wanted him to find all that shit. God it- it pissed him the fuck off. How he couldn’t stop staring at those photos of you. Like he was waiting for you to pop out from the shadows. Then he could finally show you just how fucking much you annoyed him.

His chest tightened as he inhaled deeply. Feeling a fire in the pit of his stomach. He can’t remember the last time something had gotten him this worked up.

How he found even more ready to finally get rid of you was that each time he looked, he found himself going over every feature. From those eyes to that curl in your lips to the cleavage you were definitely not trying to hide.

It wasn’t like Lloyd couldn’t get any woman he wanted. Of course he could. For all the things they say about him all of them wanted to know what it was like to get a piece of him. They’d be willing to put up with it for a millisecond.

Hell he hadn’t even been able to hit up his usual roaster of broads as he’d been too pre-occupied by you. Fucking, ugh!

He doesn’t know what it was. Call it a crush as disgusting as that sounds, but he found himself fucking obsessed with the idea of getting his hands on you and at this point you’d toyed with him so much he wasn’t even sure how he meant it anymore.

Maybe it was that no woman had ever given him a real challenge before. He couldn’t marry some basic bitch that wouldn’t understand his line of work. He deserved better for himself.

No, no. He wanted the type of woman that was just as ruthless as him. One that didn’t shrink down in his presence and let him walk all over. Someone that understood his vision for the world.

The only problem was he didn’t know what the fuck you were trying to do. But god he couldn’t stop fucking staring at that cleavage.

He didn’t even think he wanted to kill you first when he finally caught up with you. No, no, no. He wanted you to really feel it. Something… something that’ll make you understand his frustration.

Torture might be fun. Obviously tying you up. Getting that rope real tight. Duct tape around your mouth so he couldn’t hear a fucking peep. If he was really feeling like a dick he would really fuck around with you. Maybe stuff something in your mouth so you couldn’t even whimper.

He’d get a gag just for you. Or not give a shit and really humiliate you. Maybe shove your panties in t-

Lloyd shook his head. Not even sure about what the fuck he was thinking. Clearing his throat as he stepped under the shower head. Hoping to wash it all away.

If anything he was tired of thinking about you. You didn’t deserve this much attention from him. Rolling his head back as he tried to force himself to relax.

He didn’t like being this tense. Would definitely need a massage soon. Hmmm could get one of those girls that would give him a happy ending to do it. Definitely a good idea. He could really use the release.

What would really release him, is catching up to you. Forcing you to be the one to do it. Tying you up, panties stuffed in your mouth, maybe topless with those clamps attached to your-

Fuck what the hell was going on with his head. What was actually wrong with him. He knew he couldn’t be this attracted to some cleavage to make him lose his fucking mind. He was Lloyd fucking Hensen. He didn’t lose his mind over some random bitch.

Right?

Maybe it came from his need to absolutely over power you. Take advantage of you for once. Show you that he was the one in power. God he’d fuck you until he split you in half. That’s what you deserved.

It was like he was an autopilot. Had went from trying to bathe to getting distracted by how hard he was. God he doesn’t think he’d ever been like this before. Just raw fucking need.

Lloyd grasped it in his hand. Tilting his head back as he starting to move up and down his shaft. Fuck. Yeah what it he turned the shock on. Really get down to business punishing you.

Unlike his usual session, the two of you could be alone. He wouldn’t want those fuckheads to see those parts of you. Not to see he was totally against fucking you in front of an audience. But this would need to be something he did specially to you.

He could see himself degrading you. Telling you what a little bitch you were for taking shit shit. Fuck you like he hated you.

Fuck, he shouldn’t be thinking shit like this. And yet once he told himself to stop the feeling just grew.

That was when he heard a giggle that made him jump. Stopping what he was doing to grab the fluffy white towel to wrap around his waist.

Either you had him paranoid, or-

The banging on his door let him know he wasn’t totally full of shit.

“What the fuck do you mean she’s in the house!” He yelled. Still only in a towel and totally unprepared. Of course you’d catch him jerking off. Not that he even wanted to think about how it was you he was fantasizing about. “You stupid fucking morons! Are all of you that shitty at your goddamn jobs you couldn’t keep look out?”

He needed to get his gun and change considering you’d caught him with his cock out. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

As he went back to his bedroom he was ready to rip his hair out. Couldn’t even jack off without you trying to fuck with him. He swears he heard that little giggle. Where the hell were you.

“Hello, Mr. Hansen,” the greeting came out as a purr making him turn around to face you.

There you were sitting on his bed. The little cat suit you were wearing was taunting him. It clung to you in a way that made him almost think it could have been painted on. He wanted to wipe it all off and that fucking smirk off your face.

“You know you’re really fucking annoying,” was all he could even say. That feeling coming back in his chest. God he really did want to fucking destroy you.

You shrugged, before standing up. Crossing your arms. “So I’ve heard,” you replied. “What can I say? I don’t stop until I can get what I want.”

“Really? Because it seems like what you want is to get on my fucking nerves.”

There goes that giggle again. The same one he’d heard in the bathroom. Had you been watching him? God, and you were a little fucking pervert. Just wait until he gets his fucking hands on you “And what if it is?”

“Look, whatever you’re trying to do I need you to either step the fuck out of my way-,”

“Or?” You cut him off.

“Or I put a bullet in your ass.” He took a step closer to you.

“Figures you wouldn’t fight me like a man about it,” you replied with a smirk.

“What? Is that what you want?” He laughed.

“Well, no,” you mused. “I just thought you’d be a bit more… diplomatic.”

“Do I look like a give a shit about diplomacy?” He growled.

“True,” you replied. “I mean neither do I so at least we’re on the same page.”

“The only reason I haven’t killed you yet is because I’m curious to know what the hell your deal is.”

“I dunno, Mr. Hansen, you tell me.” Once again you purred out his name, getting a little closer to him. “Maybe you have something that I want.”

“Well, whatever it is get it out of your mind.”

You pouted. “What’s the matter? Don’t think you can take me?”

He found himself wishing he could fuck your face. Maybe then he’d get you to shut the hell up. Pretty soon the gap between the two of you had closed. You cocky little shit.

That’s when he finally grabbed you. Turning you around so he could wrap his hand around your neck. Shoving you into the wall. His towel loosening around his waist. “I think you want me to do my worst to you. That’s why you’ve been doing all this shit.”

You struggled against him as he pushed your face into the wall. You’re not gonna do shit.”

His lips getting close to your ear. “I’ve been dying to destroy you. Do not fucking test me.”

The grip around your neck tightened as he found himself pushing his body against you. A thought flashing in his mind about how he’d just jacked off thinking about this very moment. Shit.

“Is that a gun under your towel or are you just happy to see me?” You teased.

“You’re not exactly in the right position to make jokes.”

“No? Then what am I in this position for?”

“You’re not the one asking questions, you little bitch.” He could have sworn he heard you let out a little gasp. “Are we clear?”

“Crystal.”

“How did you even make it passed my men?”

You let out that fucking giggle again. “Come on, Mr. Hansen. You and I both know they’re not the most competent. Besides this is between me and you.”

He finally loosened his grip so you could turn around. Though he had you still pinned. Wasn’t about to let his guard down.

“Oh yeah? And why is that?”

“Because you have something that I want,” you replied with a shrug.

“I’m getting real fucking sick of your cryptic bullshit,” he said, grabbing your neck again. “Tell me why I shouldn’t end you right now?”

“Because you need a girl like me,” you said, then bit your lip. Were you enjoying this? You sick fucking freak.

“I don’t need shit from you,” he said.

“I dunno, Lloyd. Definitely feels like you need something from me,” you said.

As much as he was trying to annoy the affect you were having on him it wasn’t exactly easy. Considering his dick clearly wanted to make its presence known.

“Shame you didn’t get to finish taking care of that in the shower,” you added. “You know I think we’d work well together, you and I.”

He rolled his eyes. Deciding to humor you. “And what makes you say that?”

“Let’s be real, all of your men are morons. Wouldn’t it be nice if one person under you wasn’t?”

Lloyd raised an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side. “And you’d be the person under me?” He laughed.

“I could be. In more ways than one.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Don’t act like you haven’t thought about it,” you said, reaching down to finally grasp his cock in your hand making him hiss. Licking your lips. “You didn’t get so worked up after our fight for no reason.”

Lloyd groaned as he let you work your hand up and down his length. It didn’t make any sense how good it felt. Damn he’d needed this bad.

Thoughts flashed in his mind again of him being the one to tie you up. Putting clamps on your nipples and turning on the electricity to watch you jolt. He wasn’t sure what kind of affect you were having on him but his dick clearly didn’t care considering it only grew harder as you worked it up and down.

A knock on the door, stopped you from taking things further. Making him look down and then up at you with a glare. Fuck. Not these idiots interrupting the two of you again.

“What?” He barked, trying to act like things were normal.

“We can’t seem to locate the target,” one of his guards told him, trying to look everyone else but him as he stood in front of him, not having bothered to cover up.

“Well, keep looking and don’t come back until you’ve got her. I shouldn’t have to do every fucking thing around here.”

As he slammed the door in his face he turned back to see you back on his bed. God he still wanted to wipe that smirk off your fucking face.

He found himself grabbing your face. Squeezing your cheeks in his hand and bringing your head up. “If you want this, let’s get one thing straight. I’m the one in charge. I sign off on every goddamn thing you do. Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” you said again.

That was when he leaned forward. Finally closing the gap between the two of you as he finally put his lips to yours. You putting your hands on his shoulders as he brought your leg up so he could grind his hardness into you.

Quickly pushing you away, by grabbing your neck again. “Hope you like it rough, Dollface, because I don’t plan on showing you any mercy.”

“You promise?” You pouted at him again.

God he should have known you were a little fucking slut. “Is that what you’ve been wanting? That’s why you’ve been pissing me off. Needed me to fuck the annoying out of you.”

“Uh huh,” you whimpered.

“Beg for it. You don’t get to just have my dick after all the trouble you’ve caused.”

Before you could even say anything, you got on your knees looking up at him. “It’s prettier than I thought it’d be.”

“Yeah?” He groaned.

“Mhm,” you hummed out. “Can I please put it in my mouth? Been wanting to suck it so bad. Can I? Please? Can I suck your dick, Sir.”

Lloyd knew that as soon as he said yes, his brain would shut off. Was he ready for that? To have his guard down around you.

“Hold on,” he said.

You groaned. “What?”

“Because just because you look like a good like cock sucker doesn’t mean I trust you.”

Another pout came on your lips. “Fine.”

“Ever sucked dick with a gun pointed at you?” He asked as he came back with his firearm in hand.

Fucking whore he could see you salivating. “No, but there’s a first for everything.”

Lloyd groaned when you finally put your mouth on him. Sucking him like you’d done it a million times before. Fuck you were good with your mouth. Had him thinking that damn maybe he did need a little freak like you around.

“Fuck,” he put his hand in your hair. “You’re a good little cocksucker.”

“Think so?” You asked him as you pulled off.

All he did was glare at you. “I don’t think I told you to fucking stop.”

With that he tightened his grip in your hair. Forcing himself back into your mouth. You wanted to do this? Then you would have to take him exactly like he wanted you to.

He pushed you back so your head was against the bed. Pinned in between the mattress and his hips. You wanted to act like a thirsty little bitch for him, then he’d treat you like one.

Lloyd Hensen could be a very cruel man and sex was no different. He wanted to dominate. Show no mercy. Maybe you were the perfect candidate to be treated like this. Not like he hadn’t already been thinking about it.

He moved his hips so he could fuck your throat. Laughing to himself as you gagged around him. Finally letting you off so you could breathe.

“Get up,” he demanded grabbing you by your hair again, so he could toss you on the bed. Still in that little suit and he needed to get you the hell out of it.

Hurrying to take off the thigh high boots because the quicker he could have access the quicker he could fuck you like he’d been wanting to. Something about a woman doing all this shit to impress him made him only want to fuck you more.

As soon as your skin came into view he got to nipping at your skin. You were so damn ready for him. Maybe it was because of all the fighting served as a kind of foreplay for him. Maybe you were onto something.

“Lloyd,” you gasped, putting your hands in his hair. Tugging at it as he started kissing your stomach. Pushing you down so he could move to your thighs.

Bringing your legs up so he could finish taking you out of your suit. His lips going to your tits as he climbed on top of you.

“Ugh!” You moaned.

Fuck you sounded so pathetic, but he kind of liked it. Wanted to bring it out in out more. Take you down a few notches. Make you really feel it.

Fuck what the hell were you doing to him. Was he really planning on keeping you around. After all of that? Right now he had the upper hand and instead of taking you down to his men, he was about to fuck the shit out of you. And you were a very willing sex toy.

Maybe a part of him was flattered even. All he knows is you did look sexy as fuck. Ready for him to use you however he pleased. But first…

You let out another pathetic noise as his tongue touched your clit. What can he say? He wanted to know what you tasted like.

And fuck did you taste good.

“Fuck me, please,” you sobbed out.

“Yeah? And why should I do that?” He asked, pulling away. Keeping his fingers inside of you so he could twist them inside of you. “I could get a million other bitches on my dick. What makes you so special?”

“Cuz I think you like the challenge,” you replied.

Lloyd rolled his eyes. Couldn’t argue with that one. That was the worst part. Instead he pushed you back down to climb back on top of you. Keeping your legs up so he could still finger fuck you.

“Fuck!” You gasped into his mouth as he started kissing you again.

“That’s it,” he hissed. “Little slut. Did all this shit for my attention. So fucking desperate for me. You just wanna get fucked that bad.”

“Uh huh,” you breathed out as you tensed up. Could tell he was getting you on the edge and he wanted nothing more than to push you there.

“Fuckin’ cum for me,” he said. “Cum all over my fucking hand.”

The way your body jolted as you squirted out. Trying to find something to grab onto as he took you over the edge. Damn you were getting his sheets all messy. Nasty little slut.

“This what I do to you?” He asked.

“Yeah,” you cried as you finally clawed at his shoulders. “Oh god! Oh my god!”

“That’s a- that’s a good bitch keep cummin’ for me,” he hissed into your ear.

You let out another one of those embarrassing little whimpers. “I- ugh- god!”

While a part of him wanted to keep doing this another part wanted to feel this wet little pussy creaming on his cock. Watching as your grool covered his hand.

Lloyd smirked at it and then back at you. Chuckling to himself before smacking it onto your face in a sharp slap. Making you let out a little squeak before he smacked one of your breasts. Fuck be was having so much fun disrespecting you. It was exactly what you deserved after all the trouble you’d caused.

And god was he planning on fucking you like it. He’d get to the other punishments later. For now he was gonna let his dick tell you all you needed to know.

He dipped the head of his dick into your wetness first making you mewl. Fuck you were so ready for him. And he was ready to give it to you.

“Oh, fuck!” You cried when he finally slammed in. As if he was about to go easy on you. He’ll savor it later. Right now he needed to hate fuck you.

“Acting fucking crazy just so you can get my dick. Wonder what’ll happen when you’re fucking addicted to it for real,” he said into your ear.

“Lloyd!” You squeaked scratching his back. “Yes!”

He was so deep. Definitely trying to rearrange your guts. You scratched at his shoulders. Practically clawing at him.

He grabbed the back of your head, bringing it up as he pressed his forehead to yours. Your deep breathing fanning across his face as

“This what you wanted, huh?” He asked with a groan. Fuck you felt good all tight and snug around him. Only getting worse as you clenched around him. “You gonna cum for me?” He asked into your ear next.

“Yes, Daddy,” you cried.

“That’s it. That’s a good little bitch. You know who your fucking daddy is don’t you,” he groaned. “Cum for me, Baby. Cum all over daddy’s dick.” He hissed as you did as he told you. Screaming out with tears in your eyes.

Lloyd pulled out, but didn’t let you get comfortable in thinking he was going to let you take a break. Instead he just grabbed you again, snatching you close so he could pull you into his lap.

“Come here,” he said, grasping your hip as he positioned you on top. Not giving you anytime to recover from your orgasm as he worked you up and down his length. Slamming his hips up so he could meet every thrust.

You pushed his hands away, getting on your feet so you could take better control. Lloyd let out a moan as you started riding him just fucking right. Like you’d done this a million times before.

He tilted his head back, closing his eyes as he got comfortable underneath you. He’d be lying if he said he’d felt a woman feel as good as you did. The way your pussy tightened around him. How wet you were. Fuck. Maybe you weren’t the only one about to get addicted.

He grabbed your ass as you leaned down to kiss him. Gripping your flesh as he moaned into your mouth. Fuck. He was not about to be able to hold on at all.

“Shit, I didn’t put a condom on. Lemme cum on your face,” he groaned as he tried to push you off. Instead you stayed firmly on top of him. If anything riding him a little harder. Slamming your pussy down his dick like you were trying to force it out of him.

You shook your head as these gasps came from your mouth. “No.”

“Get- fuck!” He groaned as it started to hit whether he liked it or not. His eyes rolling to the back of his head. “That’s it, Baby, fuck you’re riding me so fucking good.” He groaned.

You put your hands on his chest, holding him down as he succumbed. “You’re mine!” You purred as he felt it hit cumming deep inside you. Not stopping until every last drop of him was milked from his cock and inside of you. Even sinking down a little deeper like you were trying to make sure you got it all. Breathing all heavy as you fell off of him finally.

Lloyd looked at you, unsure of what he was supposed to do next. If he’d been expecting for you to be the one obsessed, he had another thing coming apparently. But that’s why men shouldn’t stick their dick in crazy, he was bound to get hooked.

[krirebr]

For Krismas - what would Steve have done in “What you can do for your country” if once reader found out whyyyy she was there she was totally into it?!?!?!

Ahahahahaha! I love this. Thank you!

Short answer: He'd be so annoyed.

Slightly longer answer:

(This has no title because the original title is from a JFK quote 😂 and I'm saving the rest of that quote for a hypothetical prequel I may write one day and I just couldn't make anything else work. I think it's fine, this is super short anyway.)

(This might be the most ridiculous thing I've ever written.)

Pairing: dark!Steve Rogers x f!reader

Warnings: references to noncon/dubcon, references to face slapping, references to kidnapping, explicit language, dacryphilia

Your cheek stings so badly and Steve’s looking at you with this combination of menace and authority and you just can’t hold it in any longer. “Ohhhh,” you moan, “yeah, please. Hurt me, daddy.”

He stops cold, “What?”

“Come on, please. I need it. Please. You’ll make it hurt so good. Please, I want it!”

He stands up, aghast. “You want it???”

You’re a little confused now, not seeing what the problem is here. Maybe he just wants you to beg more. “Yeah, I want it. Come on, please. Please. I’ll make it so good.” You realize maybe the ‘daddy’ was the problem. That’s fine. You’re flexible. So flexible. “Please, Captain.”

“What the fuck!” he yells, pacing to the other side of the closet. “Why are you trying to ruin this for me??” he whines. 

“I’m saying I’m cool with it! It sounds great. Really good plan!”

“Shut the fuck up! I need to fucking think.”

You do as you’re told (see?! You’re so perfect for this!), and watch as he moves back and forth in the small space. Finally, he stops, takes out his phone, presses a few buttons, and holds it up to his ear. After a couple of moments, he speaks. “Buck! I need your help.” 

A pause while the other person speaks. “Yeah, I’m with her right now.”

Whatever Buck has to say has him shaking his head vigorously. “No! She’s not reacting right at all!” 

“Yes! I hit her in the face and gave the whole speech and do you know what she said to me? She said, ‘Hurt me, daddy!’ What the fuck?!”

A longer pause this time, and then he puts his free hand on his hip and says “No, Bucky, this is not a blessing in disguise! She was supposed to be afraid! And cry! That was 80% of the appeal. Not whatever this is!”

He throws a hand in the air. “I’m not kink-shaming!”

He’s pacing again, running a hand through his hair compulsively. “Do you think–” he starts and stops and tries again. “Do you think they’d let me give her back? And maybe get me a new one? – I don’t know. That girl at the floral shop is cute and small. I saw a customer make her cry once. Real pretty tears,” he says with a bit of a groan.

You pout, still chained to the corner. Sonuvabitch, you almost had it made.

Join my Krismas Party!

Tag lists are open

@stargazingfangirl18@drabblewithfrannybarnes @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera

[fentibeauty]

— ❛ 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐢𝐫𝐢 𝐰. (𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧) ༉‧₊˚

‣ toxic!riri ✗ black!reader

‣ a/n: someone asked for me to a do toxic riri so why NOT??? (i promise will next fic will be sweet and fluff i promise!!) tbh ion even think this is toxic toxic but it’s something

‣ warnings: toxicity, smut implied (strap!riri), profanity, smoking.

‣ tags: @melodykisses @shuris-whore @saturnville @haechvn @ppawmpkin @cherios @vargskelegore @angeliquebones s @szalipcombo @rxcently @playgurlxoxo @shurisbbymama (comment if you wanna be in tag list)

• riri is so zamn toxic to the point where your friends notice.

‣ “y/n, answer me and be 100% honest, does riri hit you?” you are fucking shocked by the question. “does it look like, i would let riri beat my ass? like come on” your friends looked at each other and then back at you and nodded. “SHES IRON HEART. SHE’S DEFINITELY BEATING THAT ASS?!” your friends joked.

• nah, though. riri doesn’t put her hands on you ever. she may be toxic but homegirl aint abusive.

anyway

• she can be nonchalant as hell. you be tryna talk to her and she over there fidgeting with something she created.

‣ “huh, i didn’t hear what you said.

• riri is a damn HYPOCRITE, like a major one and it pisses you off so bad. it’s one of the main reasons you guys argue. she is so damn friendly and the moment you tell someone bless you from sneezing she automatically thinks you want to fuck them.

‣ “riri how the fuck can you come back to the dorm at 2 in fucking morning but when i come back at 10 fucking 30, hell breaks loose?? explain that shit to me.” riri gives you a hard stare

• another thing, she hates when you curse at her but you don’t give a damn, especially when you’re mad.

‣ “for starters,” she walks into your personal space. “watch your damn mouth when talking to me, talk to me like all of your senses are alert.” she looks down at you. you look at the window before back at her. “for second, you never tell me where the hell you’re going. you could be fucking anybody i wouldn’t know!”

‣ “back the fuck outta my face, it’s cool when you do everything but when i do the most simplest thing it’s a whole fucking problem!” you push her back, not hard enough for her to fall but enough force to make her stumble.

‣ she walks back up to you, “why you putting your hands on me like that, ma?” her tone lowers, her eyes were suddenly filled with hunger?

• one reason you always forgive riri is because the SEX IS BOMBBB.

• recently riri created a strap that was created just for you, it always molds that fits you perfectly, it was programmed to send vibrations to riri’s clit each fucking stroke.

‣ “i asked you a question, answer it.” she said, backing you up onto the bed. “i don’t appreciate you putting your hands on me, bae. say sorry.” you looked up at her, you were still mad so hell no you weren’t saying sorry. “ight.” riri nodded, “it’s cool.”

‣ “i want you to strip for me.”

• now there you guys were, she used one of her hands to pin your wrist above you while her other hand was on your waist holding you down, restraining you from all movements. your eyes were rolled back into your head as she pulled the strap all the way out and thrusted it back inside of you.

‣ “fuck,” riri groaned as she sped her pace up. “you like when i fuck you don’t you.” she leans down, her lips grazing on top of yours. she gives one sloppy kiss, sucking on your bottom lip, letting it go with a pop. “listen to us.” she said as she lifted one of her legs, giving you a different feeling. “i think i want you another way” she pulled out and flipped you over. “face down, ass up.” she ordered and you weakly did as such.

‣ she went back in giving you no time, riri loved fucking you from the back. the way your plump ass would throw back and hit riri’s clit sending nothing but electricity through her body. the vibrations were way more intense during back shots.

‣ riri was straight drilling your shit, it became too much. it took your all to try and run away from the strokes she was giving. “woah, you running?” she laughed. “nah, bring that ass back here.” she grabbed your hip-dips dragging back to meet her thrusts.

‣ after a few more strokes you felt that familiar feeling in your stomach. “i’m finna..” you clenched around the strap not being able to finish your sentence. riri pulled you to her back, her hand reached your neck. “tell me you sorry, for putting your hands on me in the way. if you wanna cum, let me know what’s up.” she groaned into your ear. riri was close too, you could tell when her strokes became hard and spaced out.

‣ “i’m sorry, bae. i’m sorry for p-pushing you. please let me cum.” you whine, it was taking everything to wait for riri’s green-light. “go ahead, i know you know not to do that shit again.” she said.

‣ time was not wasted, your legs began to shake. that was riri’s cue, she sped up now letting you ride your high out.

• riri was never as vocal until she came undone.

‣ she let out a high pitched moan into your ear and it was the most sexiest thing ever. she let go of you and your face hit the pillow, the strokes were slow and sloppy, allowing herself to come undone completely before she slipped out and fell beside you.

• she grabbed you and held you to her chest, you forgot about all the toxic shit riri has done when it came down to this.

• after a while of cuddling, you guys took a bath together. during the bath, riri wanted to smoke. weed helps her relax even more.

‣ you looked up at her and she looked down at you with the blunt in her mouth, she raised her eyebrows. “i want to hit it.” you smiled,

• riri didn’t want you smoking. she claims it’s bad for you. (a damn hypocrite like i mentioned)

‣ “nah” she said as she blew the smoke up into the ceiling. “pleaseeee, you never allow me to.” you pouted. “you know i don’t want you smoking.” she announced.

‣ “weed isn’t even bad for you!” you protested. “i said no.” she deadpanned. you turned back around and crossed your arm. yeah, you acted like a baby when you didn’t get your way. it’s riri’s fault because she does spoil you.

‣ riri sucked her teeth, you smiled because you knew she was about to give in. “come on, damn. pouting for no reason.” you turned around and showed all of your teeth with your big smile.

‣ you put the blunt to your lips, “aye, you inhaling too much. chilll.” she laughed. you blowed the smoke into riri’s face laughing. “this why you don’t need it, you childish.”

‣ you grabbed it from her and hit it again. this time allowing it to flow through your nose. “okay, that’s all i’m allowing” she took it back and put it between her fingers. you leaned back into her chest.

‣ “even though you’re toxic sometimes, i love you.” you admitted looking at your legs covered in bubbles in the tub. “i’m not-

‣ “you don’t even gotta finish that sentence. just say you love me back.” riri laughed because she knew she was about to lie. “i love you more, ma.” she grabbed your chin to leave a soft kiss on your lips.

the end!

[v1ctor14aaa]

~ enhypen when someone asks for your number ~

MASTERLIST: Enypen Reacts Series

warning: slight cursing

genre: fluff

pairings: enhypen x reader

a/n: so i tried this kind of idk writing?? i think this is what y'all like more. hmu if u have reqs and also pls support my friend @gh0stythelurker !! appreciate it sm. anyway, blessing you with their pictures this time🤭. if u want to be added in my tag list just go do it in my inbox~~

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

lee heeseung (이희승)

once someone asks for your number he would immediately sneak his hands around your waist and kiss you.

you would be startled, of course because it was all sudden.

then he would stare to that guy like he's about to devour him up, making sure he scare the shit off the guy.

later on, once the guy leaves, he would realize how he was acting like a fool there and would laugh it off. he didn't regret doing that though, he wants for everyone to know that you're his.

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

park jeongseong (제이)

he wouldn't even realize if a guy ask for your number; imagine a scenario wherein the two of you are talking to each other while walking (it's mostly him, who's talking)

and when he finally notice that he has been walking non-stop, talking to himself. he would go back to you, of course. he would act awkwardly and even greet the guy.

now, we're in the stage where he finally realizes the guy was asking for your number. he would just be straightforward and say you're taken. he would grab you and still greet the guy but awkwardly.

it doesn't end there, he would look at you and ask if you gave him your number. then, it's cuddle session<33

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

sim jaehyun (제이크)

he would be the one talking to the guy. once someone approaches you, he would switch with you and talk to the guy.

he would hold your hand though.

him talking to the guy is his way, he would annoy the shit off of the guy but nicely.

he wouldn't even let the guy talk because he would be the one talking and talking until the guy just say "oh bye, i gotta go." then the both of you would laugh about it.

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

park sunghoon (박성훈)

as you may all know, sunghoon is the type to be mean directly lol.

the thing is he's actually shy to talk but he won't let anyone steal you.

so, when a guy asks you about your number he would immediately say "man, fuck off. you can see she's taken."

would literally cuss everyone who asks for your number or actually before a guy approaches you he would kiss or hug you for them to know. (actually, he just wants them to be jealous).

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

kim sunoo (김선우)

i see him as the type to roast the guy or he won't even do anything but he would give them looks (YOU KNOW WHAT LOOKS IM TALKING ABOUT).

but if he doesn't want you and his moment gets interfered. before a guy could even approach you, he would drag you away and run.

you would just get startled but as you see the guy behind the both of you, you would realize the situation.

if the guy still follows the two of you, somehow same like sunghoon, he would cuss the life off of them.

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

yang jungwon (양정원)

because of him, no one would even bother approach you especially if you're with jungwon.

i don't know what he eats but he would throw hands to them.

i mean, they can see and knows that you're taken so why bother. he's so pissed when those guys even try to make a move with you.

all in all, you're safe when you're with him and even though he's like that he has a really soft spot for you.

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

nishimura riki, ni-ki (니키)

HE'S LIKE HEESEUNG. he would stare at them people like he's going to beat them or something.

however, he would just usually put his arm on your shoulder and take your attention away.

he's going to make sure that you don't even notice the guy, literally would take you away that area.

dude, once he sees that the guy is gone. he would hug you tightly like he won something and will keep saying "i love you." or "im so lucky, aren't i?". he wouldn't bother to tell what happened even if you ask.

please do not copy/translate and post this as your own.

[ taglist: --- ]

[val-made-a-mistake]

❝FIREWHISKEY.❞

(not my gif)

summary: liquid courage - that's firewhiskey. a drink you and george can both overindulge in, sometimes, but it always seems to bring you closer together.

warnings: fluff central, alcohol (obviously), underage drinking, hangovers, mentions of vomiting, just a disclaimer, it’s been several years since i last picked up the harry potter series, you can probably guess the reason why, so i SINCERELY doubt everything will perfectly follow the timeline. my friend asked me to write something for the twins for her birthday and gave me her blessing to post, please know i’m trying my best lol. this is set loosely during the summer where the weasleys and friends attend the world cup. (google confused me on the twins’ ages so they’re seventeen, not sixteen.)

word count: 1k

tag list: @mizu-soup

a/n: happy birthday fred and george! psst...when i first posted the sneak peek of this fic, i said i had written SCENES for george, not just this singular one you'll (hopefully) read after the "read more" line. i'm planning to post these scenes as a little ficlet series eventually and develop george and reader's relationship more (firewhiskey is the main theme in all of them, as you can probably guess) but my life is a total dumpster fire at the moment, so who knows how fast that'll happen. please enjoy for now :) i love you

//////

Up on the highest floor of the Burrow, the window was a thin, uncurtained rectangle stretching up to the roof, and early in the morning, if, say, you’d gotten so drunk on Firewhiskey the night before you’d blacked out and subsequently forgotten to hoist Ginny’s old mattress up against the wall to cover it, the sunrise nearly blinded you and every other occupant of the room come 7 AM.

Not the most pleasant awakening one could have in the early morning.

“Merlin,” Fred moaned, wincing at the stream of sunlight and shoving his face into the pillow. “Ron, get the bloody mattress.”

“Why does it have to be me?” Ron cried, bounding up from the misshapen heap of blankets on the floor.

“You’re closest, you moron!” George snapped back. “Dunno about Fred, but my head’s pounding, Y/N woke up with her head in the bucket…”

“I’m awake, George,” you bit out from the opposite side of the room, absentmindedly grabbing onto the rim of the bucket in case you were to throw up again: your mouth tasted like something had died and rotted in your throat, and your voice sounded rough and gravelly from the dehydration. “Fuck, that’s the last time I’m drinking Firewhiskey…”

“You lot okay?” Harry whispered from opposite Ron on the floor. You didn’t think anything of it at the time, but he was clutching his forehead, gently rubbing his scar. Regardless of what it may have meant, you felt pity for him: you, Fred, and George might have just turned seventeen, and had drank Firewhiskey plenty before you’d legally been able to, but Harry was fourteen, much too young for a hangover. God, he’d only wanted a sip, why’d you let it go this far?

“We’re alive, I think,” Fred groaned as Ron got up to block the window; his voice was still muffled from his head in the pillow. “Mum will have everything in the pantry for a Rejuvenation Potion, right?”

“Reckon we can nick the cauldron from Percy’s room?” you put in tiredly, rolling over onto your back to stare at him.

George snorted and rolled his eyes. “Oh, no, Y/N, that’s gonna be impossible.”

You’d opened your mouth to hit him with a snarky remark of your own, but too late: in a blink of an eye, George had vanished.

Before you could even roll your eyes at how abruptly he disappeared— and how clever he obviously thought he was as you’d failed your Apparition Test three times in a row and still couldn’t legally do it — he’d Apparated back into the room with a small rusty cauldron in his hands.

“Percy’s in the kitchen,” he told the room, his grin as smug as ever. “Go down and distract him for me, will you? Look alive, you lot.”

The sunlight no longer a threat to his wellbeing, Fred rose from the squashed, broken mess of a couch, rubbing his eyes. “I’ll see what Mum’s making for breakfast.”

He Disapparated, but not fast enough for you not to spot his identical grin. You had to glare at the wall. They loved teasing you, and no matter how much you may have loved them, you’d never hear the end of it.

There was an awkward silence as everyone seemed unwilling to move.

“Ron, get out,” George said, looking over at the misshapen heap of blankets that bore a wincing Ron.

“Fuck you,” he shot back immediately, and George grinned.

“You better not let Mum hear that sass. Harry, I love you mate, I don’t want to sound like I’m kicking you out, but can you leave me and Y/N alone for a moment? Potion’s gonna take, like, fifteen minutes to brew.”

“No problem,” Harry groaned, reaching for his glasses as he climbed to his feet. “Ron, c’mon.”

Much slower than either of the twins, Ron got up, wobbled to the door with his best friend’s aid, and with the loud CREAK of the door opening, they were gone. George was already taking the ingredients he’d gathered out of the cauldron: you saw several packets of herbs, tiny vials of juices, and a large stirring spoon.

Working deftly, he pointed his wand at the pan underneath the cauldron. “Incendio.”

A fire ignited immediately.

“Do you think you’re gonna vomit again?” he asked you as he ripped a packet of herbs open and dumped them into the cauldron. His voice was so gentle you almost didn’t register he was talking to.

You probably weren’t going to, so you finally let go of the bucket. “I don’t think so.”

“Last time she’s drinking Firewhiskey, she says,” he mocked you, wiggling his shoulders sarcastically. “That’s what you say literally ever morning after, you know.”

Slightly above him on the only bed of the room, you pinned him with the most searing death glare you could manage.

George grinned at you - his real grin, completely free of sarcasm or smugness. “Hang in there, love.”

A small silence fell as you watched him.

“I think if you had any ounce of ambition, you’d be a Healer at St Mungos,” you told him absentmindedly.

“St Mungos!” he gasped, his eyes jumping up to yours as he uncorked a small vial of a mysterious reddish juice. “How dare you, Y/N! You want to set me up with Snape for a few more years?”

You laughed, even though it upset your stomach, which was already growling incessantly. “No, I - I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Jesus, I need some of Molly’s scrambled eggs.”

“Go on without me,” he told you, eyeing a measurement of an equally mysterious brown powder that your Muggleborn background likened to hot cocoa mix. “Tell Mum I’m sleeping and am not to be disturbed. And tell Ron if he rats us out about what happens last night, he’ll wish he was never born.”

“I don’t think he will,” you said tiredly, rising. “But I’ll tell them nonetheless. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he responded. “Stay alive for me.”

You smiled gently; your head was still pounding, and now that you were on your feet, your whole world was spinning. “I’ll try.”

[villaim]

guided access — event — window meet up

+ rocks tap at the glass, "who could be here at this hour?" you look down to see none other than them. at 2:00 am.

genre — fluff, crack-ish, drabble

notes — g/n reader for the most part, m!reader on rook (use of monsieur), breaking in? (malleus is the only one who knocks)

a/n — TUMBLR TAGS KEEP FUCKING WITH ME IM SORRY FOR THE REPOST

# — ace, rook, malleus

+ || ace trappola —

"hey! mind helping me up?" ace looks up at you, at the window still.

you rub your eyes, "why are you even here?!

it's the dead of night, ace."

“i thought you said that when the clock passes twelve, a new day is formed." ace shouts back.

throwing down a rope, you yell at him to hurry in before somebody catches you both.

"what brings you here, trappola."

ace grunts, "so formal... we are literallydating."

“just tell me why you're here before i throw you out the window." the moon shines through the open window, wind blows in.

"i was bored."

…

"okay fine! riddle kicked me out.”

"again?! ace, you need to take more responsibility.”

"riddle can suck my toes for all i care! i'm gonna stay here for the night and there's nothing you can do about it.”

the urge to throw ace out the window was real, however, you gave in, pushing ace onto the bed while pouncing on him.

"S/0?! What's gotten into you?!"

"go to sleep i'm done hearing you."

"so blunt, but anything for my babe."

"oh my seven. do not ever say that again."

+ || rook hunt —

"monsieur! i make my arrival!" rook announces as he climbs in through the window.

"why. are you coming here.. at two in the morning.

rook starts poking your face. "to see your beauté of course! why, you look so beautiful at any hour! weather it be day or night, you bless us with-"

"rook, i love you dearly but you know vil will kill both you and i for being up this late?"

rook's eyes went wide as he pursed his lips. finally, he announces, "do not fret, i shall sleep here for the night."

the world was dark, however, rook saw through to your soft blush.

"what will vil do in the morning when you aren't there?"

"i’Il be back before he rises. now lay back down."

“so persistent..” sighing, you flopped onto the bed, rook following behind you.

"no need to be shy! come closer."

"that's so creepy.” you laugh.

rook inches closer, your heartbeat increases.

“i apologize for not being able to be here when you arise." his words can be felt as he breaths into the back of your neck.

"i don't mind; just don't get caught by vil. i want to spend more time with you.”

rook giggled at your word choice. "goodnight, s/o."

—

rook took a photo of you sleeping when he woke up. (its his new home screen and he actually thinks you look beautiful in it. you don't /j)

+ || malleus draconia —

2:03 am can be read on the clock. cramming for exams can be so exhausting… you were soon interrupted by a knocking on your window.

you look out to see malleus, crossing his arms with a small bag in his hands.

"malleus?? it's so late why are you here." you said in between yawns.

"i could ask you the same thing. it's not good to stay up late. especially if you're a human." malleus frowned a bit, "i thought you'd be used to me showing up late, no?"

you sighed, "come inside, it's cold out."

he let out a sly smile, “the cold never bothered me anyways."

you somehow felt you heard that line somewhere, but shrugged it off as you opened the window, letting the heir in.

"thank you, i'm simply here to show you some books i thought you may be interested in."

you watched him pull out books. some focusing on briar valley's history and some involving mortal magic.

"we may read them together if you wish; however if you don't like them then i-“

you cut him off immediately, "i love you."

malleus's eyes went wide then he let out a smirk, "i love you too." pulling you into a kiss.

requested by — @trappolaces @hyuckbucket @lycanrocmidday

taglist — @granzreichsgoldenberry @pastelmages @ineligible-indefinitely @ventisaircurrent

[direwombat]

“Stop fucking teasing me and get to it already.” + Augustine & Joseph 🙈

edited the line slightly to make it just a bit more in character, but here's the filth!

tags/warnings: power imbalances, daddy/father kink, bit of a religious kink, oral sex, coming untouched, look it’s a cult-member having sex with a cult leader, and joe has a bit of a god complex. nothing here is healthy. enjoy! :)

a mouth full of praise | explicit | 2.4k | on ao3

For some reason, the Father likes keeping Augustine nearby. At first, he thought it strange. Surely there are far many other members of the Project more worthy of his company. Not that Augustine had minded, of course, taking any opportunity he could to ask if there had been any news of his sister, the Junior Deputy. But as time wore on and the answer kept being a resounding “No,” he stops asking. Sybille must be dead, he assumes, and with no other family, he throws himself into serving the Project that took him in as if he was always one of their own.

Then, he comes to regard the Father’s company as an honor. He chose Augustine, and while he may not understand why, he accepts his blessings where he can. And when his leg finally heals from the injury he sustained up in the Whitetails, the Father asks him to take up a rifle and accompany him away from the compound and into other parts of the county. 

He’s proud to serve the Father in such a way. Blessed to hold his trust so close. 

And then the dreams start. Dreams that leave him breathless, sweating, and needing to sneak away to do his laundry in private. He can’t let the others know of his shame. Of his sin. He’s already endured the Atonement once and has zero wishes to go through it again. But the images…the desires are burned into his memory, and every time he closes his eyes, he sees himself engaging in acts of Holy hedonism.

He sees himself on his knees, pious and supplicant to the Father most Holy. He tastes the Father’s flesh, sweet and salty on his tongue, and not at all like the communion wafers he grew up on. The body of his Lord and Savior is something solid and warm, and he longs to know how he really tastes.

The thought alone makes him flush whenever the Father is near him, and short of shirking his duties, he does all he can to avoid him. His sin is his own burden to bear. 

He busies himself with a broom, sweeping the church after morning service. He collects the dirt into neat little piles, making sure to reach under each pew. The Father has been working so hard recently, he deserves to return to a clean church when he finishes his rest in his office. They’ve been losing so many people recently. Augustine doesn’t know much about what’s happening outside the compound, but from what he gathers, someone hateful and violent has inspired rabid hatred against the Father.

It makes his heart ache. Who could hate such a kind and reverent man?

He brushes his little dirt piles into the dustpan and discards them out the window he had opened to air out the building. The air may be getting crisper as the season changes, but get enough bodies packed into a tight space, and it inevitably smells like sweat and musk. His Lord the Father deserves fresh, clean air to help clear his head.

Tapping the dustpan against the windowsill, he knocks the last of the dirt and grime loose, and as he moves to return the broom to its closet, he finds the Father standing in the door frame leaning to his office. He stands with his arms crossed, his shoulder resting on the door jamb.

“Father,” Augustine startles. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t notice you. Is there something you need? Water? A meal?”

The Father cocks his head to the side, brows pinching together. “Are you in such a hurry to rid yourself of my presence, Augustine?”

Augustine’s heart gallops in his chest. His palms go sweaty and his grip around the neck of the broom tightens and starts trembling. Strangely enough, it isn’t the idea that the Father may know of his sin that frightens him, but rather the notion that he’s disappointed that Augustine does not trust in him enough to confess it. “No, of course not! I just —”

But then the Father lifts his hand, cutting Augustine off, and he smiles. It’s so soft, so beautiful and ethereal, that Augustine can’t help but be enraptured by it. “I joke,” the Father says, and the yawning pit in Augustine’s gut closes. But only slightly.

The Father removes his glasses, gently folding the arms and hooking them into the breast pocket of his vest. Those beautiful blue eyes of his pin Augustine in place as he studies him. Like a knife made of ice, he cuts through to Augustine’s soul, peeling away his flesh and bones until his soul is bared, along with all the secrets he keeps closely guarded. “Something has been weighing heavy on your mind these past few days, Augustine. What troubles you?”

“Oh, um,” he stammers. “It’s..It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with, Father.” But the words feel bitter falling off his tongue. Who is he to say what the Father should and shouldn’t be concerned with?

The Father frowns, but it isn’t one of anger, and he waves Augustine towards him. The broom drops to the ground with a clatter and he follows him as he disappears back into his office. Once Augustine enters, the Father shuts the door behind them, and he motions for him to sit as he takes a seat at his own desk. Augustine perches himself on the only other surface available, resting nervously on the edge of the cot tucked in the corner.

“You think that with such a large flock, I wouldn’t notice you acting strangely,” the Father says, leaning forward, not crowding, but close enough that Augustine can smell the Bliss tea on his breath and it makes him feel a little lightheaded. “But I do notice, and I worry. Have I done something to offend you, Augustine?”

Augustine’s eyes go wide. “No! No, not at all.”

“Then why have you been avoiding me?” he asks, and it’s so gentle and so pained that guilt gnaws like a swarm of rats in Augustine’s gut. He’s hurt him. He doesn’t understand why Augustine wouldn’t trust him to tell him what plagues his every waking thought. “What is on your mind, my child. I can’t help you if I don’t know what the problem is.”

Augustine’s fingers dig into the coarse denim of his jeans and he draws his lower lip between his teeth. The Devil whispering in the back of his mind tells him to lie. To fabricate some concern about his sister. But somehow, he thinks the Father would see through that. No, it’s better to confess. It will be painful, but then again, as he learned from John, confession is meaningless without pain. He swallows thickly and, averting his gaze to stare at the Father’s boots rather than his face, he says, “I want to worship you, Father. I want to worship you in ways that are almost certainly sinful and unholy.”

“By its nature, the act of worship cannot be unholy,” the Father says gently. “Unless, of course, the object of worship itself is. Do you consider me unholy, Augustine?”

This gets Augustine’s head to snap back up, his eyes wide. “No. Never. Of course not!” Augustine exclaims. He’d never meant to imply such a thing!

The Father hums and nods thoughtfully. “And is your desire to worship motivated by sin?”

Augustine pauses, his brows pinching together. “No,” he says slowly. He never touched himself thinking back on these dreams. The thought to do so never even occurred to him. It was always about giving to the Father, not taking his own pleasure. And then it dawns on him, and for the first time in nearly a week, he looks the Father in the eye. “Reverence,” he breathes.

The smile the Father gives him is just as warm as the hands that come to cradle his face. Butterflies flutter in his stomach. “Then there is nothing sinful or unholy about your desires to worship.”

Augustine sighs a breath of relief, the tension he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying in his shoulders finally lifting. His eyes fall shut and he leans into the Father’s comforting touch. “Thank you,” he says. “Thank you, Father.”

And then the Father pulls away, and the warmth of his touch fades. When Augustine opens his eyes, he sees the Father sitting in front of him, but something about his demeanor has changed. His legs are spread in a way that tempts Augustine’s lust, and he looks unto him with a peculiar hunger in his eyes. One of his hands curls loosely, fingers beckoning Augustine towards him. “Come closer.”

Augustine is powerless to resist. He falls from where he sits on the cot straight to his knees and crawls towards him. He settles between the Father’s legs, but he doesn’t dare touch him. Not without permission. So, he places his hands in his own lap, locking his fingers together as if in prayer and firmly squeezing them between his own thighs so that they may not act sinfully of their own accord. That beckoning hand comes to rest atop Augustine’s head, fingers threading through his long auburn locks.

“Show me,” the Father murmurs, quiet but no less of a command. “Show me how you wish to worship me.”

Augustine’s lips part, his mouth going dry. His gaze darts from the face of the Father, to the space between his legs, and back again. He licks his lips, feeling the way the flush crawls up his neck and burning his ears and cheeks. His fingers twitch, as he’s overwhelmed by lust. “Father, I…”

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, my child,” the Father says. “Go on.”

The words are enough to get Augustine moving. Tentatively, his hands rise up to touch the Father’s thighs, rubbing in a way that’s more exploratory than anything else. They then slide up towards his belt, gingerly unbuckling it and pulling the leather from his hips. Encouraged by a Holy sigh from above, Augustine pops the button to his pants and pulls down the zipper of his fly. The Father graciously lifts his hips to help him drag down both his pants and underwear, allowing his cock to spring free.

It’s semi-erect, and Augustine’s mouth waters at the sight, blessed to be the object of the Father’s arousal, and eager to see him in all his Glory. He licks his lips and leans in, mouthing wetly along its length. He breathes in the musk and sweat, and as he drags his tongue up and takes the head into his mouth, it tastes ever so faintly of Bliss oil. His head swims, eyes fluttering shut, and he moans quietly. His tongue laps lazily, savoring the Father’s Holy Seed.

The Father’s grip tightens almost painfully in Augustine’s hair. “Enough teasing, my child. Get to it already,” he hisses, his voice hoarse and rough.

Augustine pulls off just long enough to breathe out an apology. “Yes, Father. I’m sorry.”

“You needn’t apologize, child, just —” he tapers off in a shuddering moan as Augustine takes him in his mouth.

It’s only part way. Augustine has never taken another man’s cock in his mouth before, and the intrusion, while not unwelcome, is more than he anticipated. The Father is warm and heavy against his tongue, and he fills his mouth in a way that sends Hellfire coursing through his veins. 

“That’s it,” the Father breathes, and he slowly forces Augustine’s head further down his shaft. “Just relax.”

Tears prick at Augustine’s eyes as he sputters and chokes, but the Father groans above him, so he must be doing something right. He feels the Father’s thighs tense beneath his hands as his own throat struggles and constricts around the uncomfortable size being forced down it. “Hush,” the Father shushes as he guides Augustine’s head down until his nose is pressed against his pubic bone. “Relax your throat. That’s it. Good boy.”

It’s a struggle, but the combined taste of Bliss and his own willpower, Augustine manages to relax his throat. When he does, the Father’s grip in his hair relaxes, allowing him to lift up, but never off. His lips remain wrapped around his cock, drool pooling in his mouth and leaking out the sides, wet and obscene. The Father’s hand is a warm weight against his skull, almost cradling, as he begins to bob his head. His tongue works the underside of the Father’s cock, and he slides down to the base, and comes to swirl at the head as he rises.

Just as soon as he finds a comfortable rhythm, the Father’s grip in his hair tightens again, guiding him faster, as he bucks into Augustine’s mouth. “That’s it, my child, worship me,” he moans. “Give praise with your mouth and tongue so it may be filled with Glory.”

Augustine moans around him, his eyes fluttering shut at the sheer power in the Father’s voice, and as he does, the Father’s hips stutter. He forces Augustine’s head down one last time, holding him as  his Glory spills down his throat, giving him no choice but to swallow. 

With a final shudder, the Father’s fingers slip from his hair and he goes limp in his seat. Augustine pulls off his softening cock and leans his head against one of his thighs, dizzy and breathless, and with his throat sore and aching. The Father’s fingers dance over his face, gifting him with light caresses, and when the Father opens his eyes, he drinks in the sight of Augustine on his knees before him like wine. 

His gaze then travels down to the space between Augustine’s legs and he clicks his tongue. “Look at you, my child,” he says, running a thumb over Augustine’s cum stained lip. “So pious. Moved to ecstasy through worship.”

Augustine whimpers, his brow furrowing in confusion, but then he looks down only to realize that he’s soiled his jeans as if he were a teenager. He looks back to the Father with dumb, glassy eyes, but says nothing.

Giving one last soft caress to his cheek, the Father smiles at him. “Go get cleaned up,” he says.

“Yes, Father,” Augustine answers, and when he speaks, his voice is hollow and ruined. With the legs of a newborn fawn, he stands and stumbles towards the church’s small washroom. His pants chafe uncomfortably as he moves.

He’s halfway out the door to the office when the Father calls to him once again. “Oh, and Augustine? Should you ever wish to worship like that again, do let me know.”

Augustine blinks slowly as the words wash over him. Then, he smiles. “Yes, Father,” he nods. “I most certainly will.”

[nightsidewrestling]

D.U.D.E Part 18 - Baby Makes Three... or Four (Set in 2021)

Note: This is set in a universe where Men VS Women / Intergender matches can happen.

Chapter 1: here Chapter 2: here Chapter 3: here Chapter 4: here Chapter 5: here Chapter 6: here Chapter 7: here Chapter 8: here Chapter 9: here Chapter 10: here Chapter 11: here Chapter 12: here Chapter 13: here Chapter 14: here Chapter 15: here Chapter 16: here Chapter 17: here

Tags: @piratewithvigor @tantamount-treason @thedollmaker16 @janetreader

Around 2000 Words. 18+ in places (those chapters will be marked as 'Mature / sexual content' just to be safe). Please inform me if you wish to be tagged or untagged from posts. If the text is in italics and orange it's Kirby's inner monologue. If the text is coloured but not in italics, it's either dialogue or a P.O.V change (P.O.V changes will be in bold and translated dialogue will appear in square [ ] brackets), Key below. Quick note on Geia's text colour: Yes I do know that as Greed she should be in yellow but I decided to colour the men's dialogue yellow so Geia was changed to be pink like the other women in the story outside of the main 8.

The Main 8: Damo - Bio. Vi - Bio. Billie - Bio. Geia - Bio. Kirby - Bio. Honey - Bio. Eli - Bio. Sara - Bio.

Kirby's P.O.V:

"Two babies." Kirby smiles as she holds the ultrasound picture.

Eddie and Mox chuckle as Kirby gleefully giggles and spins in the backyard of their Airbnb. Renee walks out with a beer for both the boys and a bottle of water for herself.

"Do you know how many years I thought I couldn't get pregnant, but two babies, two?" She stops giggling, her eyes welling up with tears.

Eddie stops laughing, putting his beer down and rushing to wrap Kirby in a tight hug, "I got ya, Ma, ya a'ight. Breathe, Kirby, deep breaths."

She buries her face in his neck, sobbing against his skin, tears of happiness, but still sobs, clinging to Eddie like he's her entire world.

"So, I'm guessing the twins will be a miracle to you, Kirby?" Jon asks softly.

She lifts her head, from the crook of Eddie's neck, "When I was eighteen, the doctors told me, they had me fully convinced, that I couldn't have children. You know the fact I'm a giant, that's why I was thought to be barren, forever childless. To be told that I'm not just pregnant with one, but two, that's... that's somethin' beyond my wildest dreams."

"Our little miracles, God was kind enough to bless me wit' you, now he's blessin' us wit' them." Eddie whispers, holding Kirby protectively.

Kirby had gone back to New York the next week, spending April and beginning of May around Eddie's parents. She wakes up on the morning of the 14th, to the sound of barking, not dog barks but human barking, echoing through the house 'Arf, Arf' like a loud bad cough. She gets up and throws on an oversized t-shirt and maternity leggings, cautiously opening the bedroom door

"Who the fuck is out here barking? Don't you know it's six in the morn...ing... Hello, Stranger." She stops in her tracks, smiling upon seeing the figure.

Eddie pulls Kirby into a gentle hug, kissing her deeply.

"You missed the second ultrasound, I got pictures and info for ya."

"I'm sorry I missed it, but tell me everythin' Ma." He smiles and kisses her softly.

"Okay, first of all, ya mother is a saint, and second of all, do you wanna know what gender the twins are?"

"I'm sure my mother knows she's a saint, and yes please, Sweetheart."

"Both are boys, ya bloodline continues." She smirks.

Eddie grins, "I know what my motha's like, what have you, and her, been thinkin' of namin' my sons?"

"I was thinkin' Emyr and Ethan, or Eirian and Elisedd."

"I know you, what do the ones other than Ethan mean?"

"Emyr, is Welsh, it means 'King' or 'Lord'. Eirian is-"

"One of your middle names." Eddie teases.

"I know that, but it's gender neutral, and means 'bright' and 'beautiful' in Welsh. And Elisedd is also Welsh, and means 'kind' and 'benevolent', and was the name of two Welsh kings."

"I think we name one Ethan and one Emyr, and give them both Irish and Welsh middle names that only you can pronounce. That way, when our boys are naughty, when they show how much their Pá has influenced them, you're the one who knows exactly how to yell their full names, and get them back in line." Eddie chuckles as he sways them from side to side.

"I like that idea, Kingy. You gotta fly out tomorrow, don't ya."

"Yea, but I wanted to have a day with my Wifey, so I chose today. Just you, and me, and a very comfortable bed. I wanna talk to my boys, and relax with my Doll." He smiles softly, throwing his phone on the couch next to his bags

"How're ya gonna do that when you... oh, you mean the twins."

"Pregnancy brain?"

"Yep, that's why ya mother's a saint."

Eddie chuckles as he picks Kirby up, holding her, bridal style, in his arms and taking her to the bed. He talks to the bump for the rest of the day, only leaving to grab food, or drinks, for himself and Kirby.

He leaves an 'I love you' note for her the following day, before he flies back to Jacksonville. Kirby gets to August before having to call Eddie with an emergency, his phone doesn't pick up, but luckily for him it's a false alarm.

Kirby's halfway through her breakfast, on the morning of the 26th of August, when the door swings open and Eddie, Mox and Homicide walk in, all three men looking panicked, Renee however looks calm as ever when she sits next to Kirby.

"How's the babies treating you?" She asks, softly touching the bump.

"They're evil, nah I'm kiddin', they're fine. Yesterday though, oh jeez, nearly had a heart attack when Doughboy didn't pick his phone up. Luckily for him, it was a false alarm, Braxton Hicks, thought I was in labour when I wasn't." Kirby explains, shovelling spoonful after spoonful of cereal into her mouth.

"See, I told you three it wasn't happening for real."

"Still could've picked ya damn phone up, Edward. Wifey thought she was givin' birth, Edward. Ya mother's currently annoyed with you, as am I."

"Where is he? Eric texted me to say he picked him up from the airport." A very annoyed Ruth emerges from the spare bedroom.

Eddie tries to use Homicide as a shield when his mother starts yelling at him in Spanish, very angry Spanish, before she hits him in the arm a couple times, finishing her tirade by hitting Eddie around the ear.

"Thank you, Ruthie, I'm sure ya would've killed him for me if he actually missed their birth." Kirby smirks, sticking her tongue out at Eddie when she walks past him.

"I'm not gonna miss their birth, I'll take as much time off as I need to," Eddie explains, wrapping his arms around Kirby's waist, "You wanna sit outside in the sun together, beautiful?"

"As long as you help me up, handsome."

Eddie leads Kirby to the back patio, sitting on the steps with her between his legs, relaxing with his wife for around an hour before Kirby's breathing spikes.

"Oh shit, oh fuck." She mutters, feeling her water break.

Ruth and Renee look at each other before helping Kirby up.

"Jon, call an ambulance" Renee whispers, Jon nods and does so immediately.

"Eddie, go put on something presentable, you're going to meet your boys sooner than expected." Ruthie orders her son, giving him a stern look when he grumbles.

"Oh fuck, holy shit," Kirby whispers breathlessly, "Ruth, how did you manage to do this twice?"

"Neither time was twins, and they were easy babies," Ruth shrugs, "Nelson, you hold her steady, I'm going to get the hospital bag." Ruth instructs, leaving Renee and Nelson (Homicide) to hold up the, very pregnant, giantess.

It takes five minutes for the ambulance to reach the house, enough time for Eddie to realise that it's not a false alarm and start panicking and praying.

"Edward." Kirby growls.

"Yes, Doll?" Eddie looks at her from, where he's sitting in the ambulance, between Ruth and a paramedic, halfway between the house and the hospital.

"Prayers will not help right now." She glares at him.

Eddie goes silent and protect his crotch.

By the time they reach the hospital, Eddie's holding Kirby's hand and trying to hide his emotions, failing at the latter miserably, and looking more of a mess than Kirby.

Eddie nearly faints when the doctors show him how far through pushing Kirby is, the forehead of their first son visible.

He has a nurse check on his hand, after Kirby's done pushing out the first baby, she just tells him that nothing's broken and to focus on his wife.

By 5:30 pm on the 26th of August, both of the twins are resting in cots, next to Kirby's hospital bed.

"How long have they been sleeping, Eddie?" Kirby asks softly.

"Emyr's been asleep for two and a half hours, Ethan's been asleep for half an hour, and you, Ma, have been so strong and brave, ever since you came into my life."

"And you, my handsome man, nearly fainted." She chuckles softly.

"The beauty of childbirth," Eddie chuckles, "Guaranteed to make men either faint or puke."

"But it's worth it. Our sons, our beautiful baby boys. Emyr Faolán Peredur Ariel Moore, born two-twenty pm and Ethan Lorcán Gwyn Joel Moore, born four-fifteen pm, both on the twenty-sixth of August twenty-twenty-one."

"Our boys. My sons. The sons of a beautiful, Celtic giantess and an idiot from New York."

"You're not an idiot, you're handsome and charismatic, and you make me laugh."

Eddie climbs into the hospital bed next to Kirby, holding her close and kissing her deeply.

"You can tell my Da, he wasn't here for the birth of his first grandchild, or the second."

"I'll take that on, they can yell at me and not you, after that I can deal with ya father's anger. I've dealt with an angry, sweaty, violent, in labour, you."

"Did you see Emyr's eyes when he opened them, green, like yours." Kirby sighs happily.

"Ethan's got your deep blue eyes, but they both, for sure, have my nose." Eddie grins proudly.

"I heard the nurses say something about them breaking a hospital record, so I think they might have my gigantism."

"If they do, I don't mind, it'll just mean two more amazing giants in the world, like their mother and her beautiful stretch marks."

"Don't mention the stretch marks, I don't like 'em."

"But they add to your beauty in strength, you look more badass and that's the real miracle, somehow adding stretch marks to an already badass babe, made an even more badass baby mama."

Kirby's about to kiss Eddie when Emyr yawns, both Eddie and Kirby look over at the cots. Eddie gets up and picks him up, passing him to Kirby. She holds him close to her chest and smiles softly.

"Hey, little one. Eddie, he's opening his eyes. Aww, my little king."

Eddie grabs his phone, taking a photo of Kirby with Emyr, picking up Ethan and taking a selfie with both his kids and his wife. Kirby watches as he posts it to Twitter and Instagram, not mentioning their names.

"This is gonna sound so wrong, but ya gonna have a kid on both tit for a while, if ya breastfeed." Eddie chuckles, smirking at Kirby.

"Edward." Kirby raises an eyebrow in response.

"What," he shrugs, "it's true."

"It may be, but I saw the look in ya eyes."

"Okay, maybe I was thinkin' of putin' ya tits in my mouth."

"Don't hold Ethan like that." Kirby scolds as Eddie balances the younger twin in one hand.

"He's safe, I got him." Eddie whispers, placing Ethan back in his cot.

"I gotta call Mike, and Ash, and Yoshi, and Jack... God, I must call Jack... he'd lose his mind." She murmurs, cradling Emyr in her arms.

"Jack? One of your cousins?"

"Nope, better, Jack Marciano."

Eddie's eyes light up at the idea, "Holy fuck, he'll go crazy... shit, I shouldn't swear around the babies."

"Nope, but they're young enough not to remember, or repeat it, in a couple years though, ya won't be so lucky."

Eddie kisses Kirby gently, a beaming smile on his face. He places Emyr back in his cot, and climbs into the bed next to his wife.

The following morning Kirby's allowed out of the hospital, she's still dressed in maternity clothes, Eddie takes her out, to a nearby café, so he can smoke, and so she can have a cup of coffee with him.

"I went through ya phone, called everyone ya Da told me to." Eddie murmurs, watching Kirby take her first post-pregnancy taste of coffee.

"And...? Ya can't just leave me at that."

"And, beautiful wifey, ya friends are gonna try to fly out to see the boys. Oh, and Jack's real fuckin' mad that we didn't tell him, about us, sooner." Eddie takes a drag of his cigarette, breathing out the smoke away from Kirby.

"If I hadn't spent, nearly all of, yesterday giving birth to twins, I'd spend all day today in bed with you."

"Keep it in ya pants," Eddie chuckles, smirking and winking at her, "Sexy baby mama."

"Sexy? Baby weight on me still, and I'm sexy?"

"Ya always sexy to me, Ma." He whispers.

"Emyr and Ethan are gonna have a weird childhood." Kirby sighs softly.

"Yeah, but they have us as parents, and we are very capable of beating up bullies."

Kirby's phone buzzes in her back pocket, she reads the message before looking at her husband, "You finish ya cigarette, we can take the boys home in a little while."

[cleoselene]

I posted 2,636 times in 2022

That's 762 more posts than 2021!

484 posts created (18%)

2,152 posts reblogged (82%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@sylvieons

@mariacallous

@greghouse

@elon-musks-disrespectful-nipples

@eatmystardustloser

I tagged 2,334 of my posts in 2022

Only 11% of my posts had no tags

#lmao - 157 posts

#lol - 140 posts

#henry cavill - 138 posts

#taylor swift - 122 posts

#the orville - 89 posts

#shadow and bone - 83 posts

#ben barnes - 76 posts

#lmfao - 57 posts

#star trek - 42 posts

#baseball - 41 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#i am like showing my age because i watched a couple eps of fleabag and felt scandalized like an old lady lol i was like oh no this is too yo

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

that 2022 existential dread feeling from watching DS9

Bashir: You know, Commander,  having seen a little of the 21st century, how could they have let things get so bad? Sisko: That’s a good question.  I wish I had an answer. [END EPISODE]

30 notes - Posted February 16, 2022

#4

screaming at this amazing article:

“You see a single woman of 40, who has never had children – ‘Bless, that’s a shame, isn’t it? Maybe one day you’ll meet the right guy and that’ll change.’ No, maybe she’ll meet the wrong guy and that’ll change," he said. "Maybe she’ll meet a guy who makes her less happy and healthy, and die sooner.”

SCREAMING, I TELL YOU

68 notes - Posted May 13, 2022

#3

legends only

293 notes - Posted June 26, 2022

#2

Bill Nye wants you to vote and I know y’all love Bill Nye so there ya go

417 notes - Posted August 10, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Basic political concepts Americans should grasp

You have to vote in every election. Yes, every election.  Not just the Presidential ones.  You have to vote for Governor, Senator, Congresspeople – all of your state legislatures.  You have to vote for mayor, city council, school board.  You have to do this every single time.  Republicans do this every single time.  You can too.

It takes less time to tear things down than to build things up.  This is why it’s so easy to be a Republican and accomplish Republican goals.  They are destruction artists.  It’s easy to eliminate rights, easy to eliminate social programs.  Building and codifying and establishing these things is really fucking hard, takes time and patience.  This sucks, I know.  It sucks bad.  But it’s just reality.  So when you wonder why Republicans seem to accomplish more of their goals, it’s because their goals are to burn it all down.  They’re not really goals so much as just torching shit.

Mistakes of the past will continue to haunt us and we will have to continue to fight against them.  This really sucks, especially if you weren’t old enough to vote in previous elections.  But we’re all handed what we’re handed in life, and the people who came before us who accomplished real change took what they were handed and did something with it, they didn’t just check out.  And a lot of them fought really fucking hard so all of us could do #1 – VOTE.  Do not spit on the memories of people who literally laid down their lives fighting for the right for all of us to vote by not voting or throwing your vote away.

We can learn a lot from the last generation of activists who accomplished significant change and a lot of those people are still with us, for now.  Civil Rights Leaders still exist in our society, though they’re aging out.  Take a look at what they’re saying, because you know what?  They actually accomplished real change in their lifetimes, under really difficult circumstances.  Believe it or not, there are older people you can learn from.  We ignore the lessons of history to our peril.

Do you think you have something to offer?  Run for local office.  Or get involved with someone who is running for local office.  YOU can make a difference if you get involved.  But we also have to work together.  Coalition-building has always been the key to liberal success.

752 notes - Posted June 25, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[xpeachesncream]

it takes two | one shot (myg)

summary: min yoongi was the one who came to understand you and took you for you. but, when boundaries start getting crossed and priorities begin to change, you start to question if your relationship with your bestfriend is strong enough to make it through.

pairing: athlete!reader x athlete!myg

genre: bestfriends to lovers au, basketball au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 12.3k

warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, protected AND unprotected sex (later on), slight breast play, oral (f. receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, missionary, riding/straddling, mentions of alcohol consumption, dancing, mention of marijuana, sex on the beach kinda?, some heavy angst, insecurities, crying, injuries (like a cut/ankle sprain), yoongi is just kind of an idiot at one point

note: heavily inspired by the movie love and basketball. unedited for the most part, pls excuse any spelling/grammar errors.

tags: @ggukkieland​ @miinoongi​ @bluesharksandfish​ @unicornbabylover​

⏏︎ now playing: triggered - jhené aiko ; sorry enough - chris brown

First Quarter: 6th Grade

You didn't really have a lot of friends in elementary school. Any, actually. Hell, the girls in your class purposely ignored you because you acted different. Dressed different. Enjoyed the shit boys liked, like playing ball and video games. You couldn't relate to their gel pens, Lisa Frank folders, cute binder stickers and bracelet charms. None of that shit was you. But you didn't care, you were fine by yourself. Nobody to please, nobody to care for.

The only person that came to understand you was Min Yoongi and that's because you played basketball with him and his friends during daycare. At first, it came as a surprise because truthfully, you felt like Yoongi only let you play because he felt bad for you. Which, okay, whatever— so be it. But, after the last round during a game of two versus two, you found yourself on the ground, huge gash on the knee from chasing after the ball before it could go out of bounds.

"Ouch! Crap!" You groaned as you sat up and checked out your knee. Yoongi walks towards you and crouches down, examining the bloody gash.

"Come on." He says, holding out a hand to help lift you up. He swings your arm over his shoulder, already knowing that any sudden movements to your knee can make the wound sting. He takes his time and walks with you as you hop on one leg towards the office, not really saying much. Yoongi wasn't the most talkative in class. He hung out with two or three other boys in your class on the daily, but they were quiet. Weren't much troublemakers, didn't cause ruckus like the other boys did. But, he was still popular among the girls because he was a little cutiepie. You remember walking into the bathroom, hearing Angie and her friends tease her about her crush on Yoongi. Then, the following week, one of her friends also ended up crushing on Yoongi and they bickered [weirdly] in the bathroom about it.

Getting to the office, he sits you down on the bench before approaching the office admin to grab some bandaids and ice for you.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Min?" Mrs. Yao comes over to greet him.

"Y/N's hurt. Can I get a bag of ice and a bandaid for her, please?" Mrs. Yao looks over her shoulder and does a head tilt before sighing. She knew you weren't like the girls in your class, always getting hurt one way or another, being more hardheaded and stubborn than the usual. She grabs a bag of ice and hands the supplies over to Yoongi before placing her hands on her hips.

"You think you can take care of Miss Y/N, or do you need me to help?" He shakes his head.

"I got it, thank you Mrs. Yao." He politely says, giving her a small toothless smile. You silently watch as he walks over, crouching down once again to tend to your wounds. "I don't think this will hurt, but stay still so I can put this bandaid on." He says softly as he spreads the small Neosporin packet across your wound. He wipes his finger down on his pants before removing the back of the bandaid and pressing it against your knee. "There. You should keep the ice on it so it doesn't bruise and stuff." He stands.

"Thank you." He nods as he watches you stand and slightly limp before you adjust your steps to the right pressure. He follows you out, coming back to your side with his hands in his pockets.

"Why don't you act like the other girls?" He asks, cocking an eyebrow at you.

"What? Not liking all the girly stuff that they like?"

"Sure, or you playing basketball. You know girls are usually like cheerleaders and cheer the guys on instead."

"Well, I don't wanna be a cheerleader. I just would rather play. What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing, it's just weird to see."

"You're weird." You snapped back.

"How am I weird?"

"You shoot weird."

"And you don't? I shoot better than you." He furrows his brows.

"No you don't."

"Fine, wanna play one more time? Unless you're a wuss and can't play cause of your knee." You rolled your eyes at the sudden change of events.

"I'll play you, I'm not a wuss. Unless you're afraid to lose to a girl." You taunt him as you both walk back to the court.

"Whatever, I'm not afraid cause I won't lose." He grabs the ball and checks it in. "My ball first."

"Sure, if you think that'll help."

And that's how Yoongi lost to you, busted knee and everything. From there, it was history. You became inseparable, Yoongi becoming a large part of your days and vice versa. His parents eventually became close to yours after the numerous times you both have been dropped off to hang out, or catching rides home after school. Yoongi lived in a nearby neighborhood, only being a good 7 minute walk, to be exact.

Second Quarter: High School, Senior Year

In high school, it became a little different. Yoongi grew up, played varsity basketball and became a fucking jock even though he claimed he would never. Yeah, bullshit. You too, played on the girls varsity basketball team, and surprisingly, you two kept each other close. It was a blessing and a curse though, because you couldn't see your life without Yoongi. He's been there since the 6th grade. However, girls took note of that shit. Trying to use you as their way in to Yoongi's heart, or pants, or both. You made it very clear though that you weren't interested in being a fucking messenger. Girls thought you were mean, but really, they just couldn't handle you. Hence, why you really couldn't relate and be one of them.

Yoongi was still the only person who could understand you and handle you, bad attitude and all. Tomboy habits and all. Not wanting to make friends and all.

"Jesus fucking christ, the day just started." Yoongi says as he watches you toss your duffle bag and backpack aggressively in the back seat of his car. "What's your deal?"

"Nothing, I'm just tired." You slump in his passenger seat after buckling your seat belt.

"Chill, don't start your day like this."

"Whatever, dad." You rolled your eyes, causing him to let out a pathetic chuckle.

"Are you coming to my game later?"

"Yeah, if I'm not too tired from practice."

"Y/N, I always make it to your games even if I'm tired."

"Do you?"

"The fuck? Yes I do. When haven't I?" His tone raises with yours. "Don't try and justify your shit by coming up with lies."

"Yeah, yeah bighead. You'll have plenty of cheerleaders there for you."

"Yeah and?" He smirks. "You're the one I'll be looking for though." He caresses your chin, making you smack his hand away while he laughs loudly.

"You're stupid." You groan as you sink lower in his seat. The rest of the ride to school, you shut your eyes and enjoy the peace before you're having to walk down those annoying, congested hallways.

People rave a lot about senior year, but it honestly hasn't felt special to you. Maybe because you kept the same routine since freshmen year, or maybe you really just didn't care as much as everyone else did about how "special" it was. You've always been locked in to basketball even if your mom wasn't a big fan of it. She wished you were more into cute, girly shit, like makeup, shopping, manis and pedis and dresses and heels, but she came to accept this was the way it was going to be. Especially because your dad was your biggest fan. You came to love basketball, more than just a side hobby. You joined the varsity team and practiced day in and day out. When basketball wasn't in season, you'd play with Yoongi at the park or sign up for camps and tournaments. You just wanted to keep bettering yourself so that you could play in college and get into the league post-grad. Yoongi was the same, and he may or may not have influenced your passion for ball. Either way, he was always supporting you and cheering for you even if the other females hated it.

His ex for sure hated the relationship you had with him even though you really steered clear when she was around. Wasn't your fucking problem or responsibility to take care of her insecurities. Same with his flings.

"Hey, so later, yeah?" He asks in between throwing nods and smiles to girls passing by.

"Mhm." You hum. "You gonna be free for lunch later?"

"I don't know. I know where to find you though if I am."

"Have a good day, punk."

"You too, bub. See you in English." He turns on his heel, walking towards his friends, aka his team members. Aka his jock ass group. Aka the ones females flock to.

Namjoon, Jimin, Eunwoo, Lucas.

They were all pretty boys who knew they were pretty boys and used that to their advantage to make big asshole moves. You hated that Yoonks got pulled in from time to time, but shit, it wasn't your life, you were only a small part of his. Sometimes, they also pulled in the football boys, Jungkook and Seokjin. Even the baseball boys, Hoseok and Taehyung. It was all a huge pretty boy, jock, asshole group in the making outside. A big fucking party for a lot of the girls at school, though.

So even if Yoongi was really the only one in your life, you weren't the only one in his. It is, what it is. As long as he doesn't go switching up on you, then whatever, so be it.

The first half of your classes go by quick, being that you enjoyed your chemistry, french and english classes. You had your english class with Yoongi, Namjoon and Hoseok. You had gotten to know Namjoon and Hoseok a little through it, and it was enough to know that they weren't all that bad. At least in this classroom setting.

"You two going to prom together?" Namjoon asks, making Yoongi snort.

"No, what the hell?" Yoongi responds.

"You guys can have fun at prom." You roll your eyes.

"You're really not gonna go?" Joon bites on the end of his pencil.

"No? The fuck I look like?"

"Y/N, I know it'd be weird as fuck to see you in a dress, but it's senior year. You didn't go last year, did you?" Namjoon asks from Yoongi's other side.

"Really, Namjoon?" You give him a look as if it could state the obvious.

"Well shit, I don't know. I know it's not your thing but can't really say I would have noticed either way." Hoseok laughs, causing you to throw your pen at his head before flicking him off.

"Miss Y/N!" Mrs. Maxwell calls you out mid-movie, eyes wide and in disbelief at how you're acting.

"What?! He started it." You slumped back in your seat and let out a sigh.

"Not another word." She says sternly.

"Not another word." You mock her under your breath.

"Aye, stop. You and that attitude boutta get in some trouble the last weeks of senior year." Yoongi puts his hand on your wrist, causing you to shake your head and click your teeth.

"Anyway, you should go." Hoseok whispers as he leans over on the table to look at you.

"No. Besides, with what date?"

"Take the basketball." Joon snickers.

"You're a complete dumbass, Namjoon. Stop talking." You snap.

"Maybe they're right, bub. It's senior year and it's coming to an end quick. I'd hate for you to regret it." Yoongi turns to you and says lowly.

"You know that won't happen." But really, part of you did feel a little bad. You knew it wasn't your scene, and you really didn't care what people thought of you when it came down to it. However, you always wondered what it would be like if someone liked you. If someone wanted you. Crushed on you so hard that they couldn't keep their hands off of you, couldn't stop thinking of you. Your first love. To feel pleasure, pain. Mixture of emotions simply by being in love. You wondered what it would be like to lose your virginity and have good, good sex. Besides, you were a human with needs. But the only person you have ever been close to was Yoongi. For the most part, you didn't see him that way because you knew he definitely didn't. But, you also couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to take your relationship to that point. If it was anyone, he would be the one you'd have feelings for. He would be your first kiss, your first everything. Because Yoongi was comfort and security for you.

But you valued your friendship more than anything.

"Just saying, think about it." He follows up.

"Think about getting an expensive dress and painful ass heals to wear for one night, just to dance around in 'em and take one professional pic with a date? Maybe get railed if I'm lucky?" You playfully wiggle your eyebrows making Yoongi shake his head.

"Don't be such a party pooper for once."

"Mmm. Great reasoning. Really convincing me here." You laugh it off even though in all honesty, you were thinking about it.

The bell rings and thank god it's finally lunch because you were fucking starving. Appetite and attitude on na-na, no doubt. You silently part ways with Yoongi to stop by your locker and grab your lunch. You make your way to the rowdy ass cafeteria, quickly scanning the room to catch a sight of Yoongi. You see him sitting on top of one of the lunch tables with Hoseok, Namjoon, Jimin and Taehyung sitting around him. Clearly, Yoongi wasn't free today.

"Wassup baby? Wanna trade that ball in for me?" Jimin says as you pass by their table to make your way outside to the bleachers. You flick him off before rolling your eyes and pretending to gag.

"Fuck off, Park." The group laughs except for Yoongi.

"Wonder if she's got that bad attitude in bed, too." Yoongi doesn't hesitate to smack Jimin upside the head because yeah, no matter what, he was gonna protect you as much as possible. "Owwww, I'm just kidding Yoongi."

"Don't let me hear you say that shit around me ever again."

"Fuck, I'm sorry. It was just a joke." Jimin winces as he rubs the back of his head.

"Damn Min Yoonks, why don't you take her ass to prom if it's like that?" Taehyung says, chewed up food coming into full view as he smacks loudly.

"Why don't you learn how to close your mouth first?" Yoongi spits back.

"Y/N is really rubbing off on you."

"It's manners, idiot. You should've been learned that." Namjoon says, laughing.

"But foreel, why won't you take her? You both are close, you've never seen her that way?" Hoseok asks making Yoongi shake his head in response.

"She's my bestfriend. I value her just the way she is, no more no less."

"Ah, you must have thought about it at least once." Yoongi keeps silent. Luckily, the group easily gets distracted and starts paying attention to Seokjin and Jungkook coming over as they talk about the dates they've scored for prom.

Yoongi has thought about it. Still does. Just like he is for you, you're the only one who understands him and takes him for who he is. You know the real him besides basketball player Yoongi. You're the only one who keeps it real. But he would rather keep it this way than ruin things between you and him. He'd hate to fuck up with you because he knows he can fuck up, there's no hiding from it. He'd never forgive himself if he lost you.

Practice is hell today for you and fuck, you really wanna just go home and lay down for the rest of the evening. Coach had you all running suicides and conditioning drills on the courts outside and pulling scrimmages against each other left and right. Let's not forget how coach is always on your ass right before a game too. Hell, she catches an attitude way worse than you before game time and after a loss. You wanted to avoid that at all costs. But, to avoid taking the bus home and instead hitching a ride with Yoongi, you throw on a hoodie and haul your ass to the gym in some nike slippers. You take a seat on a free end at one of the bleachers, holding Spalding in between your legs with your duffle next to you on the floor. The game is off to a start in about 5 minutes, Yoongi catches sight of you on the bleachers and nods. You give him a small smile as a gesture of good luck, which he reciprocates.

The game starts off intensely, both teams scoring closely even with the boys putting straight pressure. Towards the end of the first half, Yoongi and Eunwoo are the leading scorers, putting their team up by 10. Halftime is a bunch of hoo-haa, with cheerleaders in their itty bitty skirts, trying to shake their asses as they cheer for the boys. The boys don't even hide the fact that their ogling, and it's clear as day they all want some pussy. Quite frankly, they walk around thinking they deserve it cause of how hard they try to pull some wins and put the school on the map. Student government comes up for a bit too, pulling some kind of skit to weirdly promote prom. It makes you cringe and in all honesty, it makes you not wanna go even more, but it is your senior year. If you can snag a date, then maybe.

"Hey." Terra [not a cheerleader but still a pretty, popular chick] plops next to you with a smirk on her face. Immediately, you want no part in it because you already know what she's trying to do.

"Hi?"

"I'm just gonna cut straight to it. Do you know if Yoongi is seeing anyone?"

"How the hell would I know, Terra?" You furrow your brows at her.

"Because you're close to him, aren't you?"

"And? Doesn't mean I'm telling people his business. Besides, he's not obligated to tell me everything just cause we're close." She rolls her eyes.

"Whatever. Look, can you do me a favor and give this to him?" She tries handing you a little ass piece of paper folded neatly with a pink heart decorated on the front.

"Why don't you give it to him yourself?"

"That's no fun." You scoff and roll your eyes. Really, miss girl? "Be a doll for once, yeah?" She winks and slips the note in between your wrist and Spalding so it stays put. You take the note and eye it, letting out a deep sigh as you shove it into your pocket. You weren't in the mood to be extra rude today so you'll give it to him later when he drives you home.

The game finally finishes with Yoongi making a final three, the boys keeping their lead up by 10. Everyone cheers and showers the boys with love after the team has finished shaking hands and high-fiving their opponents. You stick around until the crowd dies down, watching Yoongi flirt with Terra as you swing your duffle bag strap onto your shoulder before slowly heading down the bleachers.

"Hey bighead, good game today." You lightly punch him against the chest.

"I knew you'd come."

"Shut up. I'll be at your car."

"For what?"

"Cause you're taking me home, punk."

"No please?"

"Please." He shakes his head and chuckles before you part ways to let him gather his things in the locker room. When you finally catch sight of his teeny head coming towards you from the gym, you hear him unlock his car to let you in while he continues to walk over.

"Fuuuuuck." He says, throwing his things in the back before buckling his seat belt and switching the gear into drive.

"You have fan mail." Yoongi looks over and sees you clutching the note Terra gave you.

"What's that, a condom?"

"You're sick. It's from Terra."

"Who's that again?" You make a face at him.

"You were just telling her sweet nothings earlier after the game?"

"Oh, Terra with the tig o' bitties. Got it." He shakes his head. "I wasn't telling her sweet nothings."

"Right. You're an absolute dipshit, you know?" You prop up a leg on the seat while you unfold the letter.

"Give it!" You move it away from his grasp and begin to read it out loud.

"Yoongi, you're honestly so hot. If you don't have a date for prom, I just want you to know that I'm free, and I promise I'll give you a good time if you take me." You cackle. "Boy, what the fuck is this? Ew."

"Shut up." He blushes before laughing along with you.

"Look at her, writing her coochie out on paper."

"She isn't."

"Oh, really? Pfft." You softly scoff. "So, are you taking her or what?"

"I don't know? Maybe, damn. What about you?"

"What about me, fool? I told you I'd think about it."

"Go with Jimin. He still doesn't have a date." He hates to say it with how much of an asshole Jimin can be, but if it meant you'd be at your senior prom then Yoongi will let it pass. He'll make sure Jimin doesn't try any slick shit.

"Ew, god no."

"Look, I'll make sure he doesn't go overboard. I promise."

"Why do you want me there so badly, Yoongi?"

"Because it's our last year in high school together and I'd really like to celebrate with you somehow." You sigh heavily.

"Fair enough. Let me sit on it."

"Better hurry and stop keeping that seat warm."

"Don't rush me." You punch his arm, causing a groan to erupt from him.

- - -

Really, you'd rather be anywhere than at prom with Park Jimin holding onto your waist the way he is for the pictures you're taking with him, Yoongi and the rest of their group and dates. After all the pictures and fake smiles, you feel him slowly slip his hand down your dress to try and get a grip on your ass, but before you could do so, you're grabbing his wrist with full pressure and making him wince.

"Don't you fucking dare or else I'll cut your dick off and throw it in a blender."

"Aish, ah, fuck! Okay, I'm kidding, let me go!" He whines lowly. You let go of his wrist after one more good squeeze, causing him to wiggle his hand to get the feeling back.

"Get me some punch, will you? My mouth is dry."

"You know, I might know something else that can help." Jimin wiggles his eyebrows as he continues to hold onto his wrist.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me."

"Or not. I'll be back." He accepts defeat by smiling from ear to ear before walking off. You sit off to the side, the heels a huge pain in the ass on top of Jimin already being a huge pain in the ass. You lean over on your knees, completely forgetting you have a short dress on, causing boys passing by to whistle and eye at the easy access.

"The fuck are you looking at? Keep it moving." Yoongi says pushing the guys forward before shooting you a look. "Y/N, really?"

"Shit sorry, I forgot. I'm not used to this." You sit up and adjust your dress before rubbing your arms at how self-conscious you suddenly [and unexpectedly] feel.

"Are you having fun at least?" He sits next to you, manspreading on the seat in the navy suit he has on.

"Mmm, sure." You slightly smile at him. "What about you? You actually took Terra, huh?"

"Yeah, it's pretty fun." He chuckles. "Don't lie, I saw you dancing a bit earlier."

"That's when the alcohol hadn't worn off yet." You snort, remembering Seokjin's older brother giving the group alcohol after all the parents were done taking their pictures of you all. Yoongi laughs along with you before he looks over and simply stares at you, hair all done, makeup done perfectly without it being too much. You in a dress.

"You look beautiful tonight, bub."

"You don't look too bad yourself, bubby." You blush before Jimin interrupts the moment with your cup of punch.

"Here, princess."

"You better not be trying anything slick, punkass." Yoongi says.

"Mm, don't worry. I haven't been able to." You kick his shin as you chug your punch, causing him to cough and choke on his own words. "I'd like to peacefully have this slow dance with you at least, damn." You swallow the last bits of punch before you're taking Jimin's hand to the floor. Yoongi watches as you two make your way to the dance floor for a slow dance, slightly regretting that he didn't just ask you to dance.

"Let's dance, babe." Terra's baby voice comes out as she pulls him up from the seat to find a spot on the dance floor. Yoongi is honestly tired of having to keep up with Terra's energy and her clingy ass, but nonetheless, he was happy you were around for prom.

He was really happy you were around for prom, even though you hated this shit more than anything.

He had you in full view ahead, and so did you. He couldn't help but direct his attention towards you and keep his eyes on you. Fuck, he has never seen anyone so beautiful until you walked through Seokjin's doors with Jimin. Look, let's get this straight. Even though you had your own way of expressing yourself, he always loved your natural beauty, your natural glow. He loved watching you on the court and how happy it made you to play ball. He remembers every accomplishment, every milestone you've reached. How you've grown tremendously as a ball player. He would never admit it to you in person, but he definitely admires how you push yourself and how you always do what you can to improve. Hell, you might just be the better player between the both of you. And when you catch him looking over, he doesn't even try and hide it. He doesn't even care that he's still holding onto Terra and slow dancing with her.

Something within you flips. You feel that shit in the pit of your stomach, at the heat of your core.

But, you brush it off and break eye contact first, even if he doesn't stop staring. This couldn't happen, no. This was your bestfriend. You weren't gonna let the things you felt get in the way of that.

Nope.

Suddenly, the song changes to something more upbeat and twerkable, Jimin taking the opportunity to spin you around and grind on you. You really need a distraction anyway, something to rid you of those god awful thoughts about your bestfriend, so you let him and you have fun with it. Everyone around you is having fun anyway, and fuck, you wouldn't have to do this ever again so fuck it.

"Let me get a dance with my bestfriend." Yoongi says to Jimin.

"Go dance with your date!"

"Shut up and switch for a second!" Yoongi says, pushing him off of you so he could get behind and dance with you.

"Yoonks, what the hell?" You laugh.

"Go with it, bub. It's fucking senior year, we're graduating soon." You go with his movements, having the time of your life with everyone around you as prom quickly comes to a close.

When you get into Jimin's car, you knock off your heels as he continues to talk nonstop about the night. Jimin was a cutie but god, you could not stand his mindset for the life of you. You were grateful he had agreed to take you to prom, but damn. Prom was done and all you wanted was some peace and quiet.

"I hope you had fun with me tonight." You give him a toothless smile before slipping your heels back on.

"I did, thank you for taking me. Really." He smiles from ear to ear before leaning over near your seat.

"Can I get just one good smooch for the night?" You look at him before you smirk and lean over near his lips.

"Sure." You whisper.

"Oh fuck, this is actually happening."

"Close your eyes, I know you don't fucking kiss with your eyes open. What are you doing?"

"Right. Sorry." He closes his eyes and puckers his lips. You lean in a little closer, feeling his breath against your lips.

Then you flick his nose.

"Ouch!"

"Peace out, Park." You throw open his door to step out and shut it behind you to quietly walk into your house.

The lights are off and your parents are already tucked into the room for the night, leaving you a note on the fridge reminding you to make sure all the doors are locked before retreating to your room. You do as you're reminded before quietly shutting your door and tossing your heels to the side. You let the pins down from your hair, ruffling it around a bit and relieving any pressure on your head. Before turning away from your dresser, you notice a letter from the one university you had been waiting on. You had been waiting to hear back from Stanford for the longest time, and quite frankly, you had been upset you hadn't heard especially when their scouts were at your game awhile ago.

You had broken down to your parents, to Yoongi, automatically assuming the worst when you heard that other people had already been accepted and scouted for Stanford. Suddenly, you found yourself working harder and harder because you felt like you were lacking in so many areas. You felt low, and like your dream was running miles and miles away from you. Faster than you could keep up.

You take the letter in your hand, but don't want to open it because you don't feel ballsy enough [surprisingly]. You call up Yoongi, not caring that he could possibly be in the middle of getting his dick wet.

"Sup?"

"Are you busy?"

"I was just about to walk into my house."

"Oh, nevermind."

"Need me to come by?"

"I got a letter from Stanford."

"Shit, I'll be there in 2 mins."

And in 2 minutes, he surely was knocking at your window. You slide it up enough for him to climb in, Yoongi still in his prom get-up as well.

"Here." You instantly hand him the letter.

"What, why me? It should be you."

"I can't, I really can't." He sighs.

"Are you sure you won't regret this?"

"No, bub. Please." You sit on the bed and fiddle with your fingers as you watch him rip the envelope open and tear out the letter. You can't even keep your eyes on him as he reads the letter and starts backing away from you.

"Shit."

"What? What?!" You stand, trying your best to keep your tone low. He covers his mouth, causing you to pinch his bicep at how dramatic he was being. "Just say it!"

"You're not going." Your heart sinks, but before you could process it, Yoongi speaks up again. "To any other college because Stanford wants you."

"I'm going to fucking kill you!" You whisper and shove him.

"Congrats, bubby. Guess we'll be together in college too." Your eyes widen.

"Y-you're going? T-to Stanford?" He smiles and nods.

"Yeah, I am."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Look, I just wanted to give you your space. That's all. I found out before you went all cry baby on me."

"Shut up." You say before laughing and jumping into his arms, throwing your legs around his torso while he swings you around. As he sets you back down onto your bedroom floor, your hands linger around his neck, gently tugging on the hair that rested there. He keeps you close, his hands resting around your waist as your chests are still touching. You honestly have no idea what takes over you— perhaps all the feelings you felt tonight at prom taking over, or feeling overjoyed from finally hearing back from Stanford, you couldn't decide. But you crash your lips against his, immediately pulling back after you realized you've just kissed your bestfriend.

You just had your first fucking kiss through accidental causes.

Well, shit.

Was it accidental or no?

Mind is going off on a tangent.

"Woah. I'm so sorry, Yoonks, I—" He doesn't allow for any space between you two, keeping your body flush against his as his lips crash onto yours again to cut you off. To be quite honest, things are moving fast and the kiss deepens quick. You follow his motions, gaining some rhythm as your tongue dances along with his in the [now] wet, sloppy kiss.

"Wait, Y/N." He pulls away as the moment intensifies. "A-are you sure you wanna keep going? To be honest, I don't know if I'll be able to hold myself back and I know you haven't exactly—" He knows it would be your first time and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. I mean, sure, he loved you. You were special to him. But he wanted to make sure your first time was also special, whether it be him or whoever else.

"Please. I want this. I wanna do this with you."

By the looks of tonight, it seems like it's meant to be him.

You press your lips back onto his with the same intensity and start to unbutton his shirt when you feel his hands hike up your dress. He gently pushes you on the bed, crawling over to you as he kicks off his shoes and finishes ripping off his shirt and tie. He slowly removes the straps of your dress down your shoulders and undoes the zipper on the side before slipping it down and leave you in your panties.

You had no bra on.

Yoongi's eyes widen when he realizes such, your cheeks heating up while you watch him stare down your body. You begin to feel incredibly self-conscious so you cover your chest with an arm. Yoongi senses your uneasiness, your confidence shooting down below zero.

"You're beautiful, bub. Don't." He says, gently tugging your arm away and letting it fall limply to the side. You simply nod and let him take the reigns because you had no idea what the fuck you were doing. So many emotions were flooding your mind— you were nervous, you were scared, you were shy, you felt lost and too innocent under Yoongi, even if he knew you like the back of his hand.

And because of that, he could pick up on it with the way your body continued to tense up. He shook off his pants, leaving on his boxers until you were ready for him. Cause fuck, he was ready for you, but he had to take this slow. He had to take care of you.

He lowers himself onto you after the two of you have climbed under the sheets, lowering his head against your neck to press light, feathery kisses along the surface. You felt the tingles shoot down your spine every time his lips made contact, causing you to softly gasp and arch your back at how sensitive you were already feeling.

"If you ever feel uncomfortable, just tell me to stop okay?" He says lowly. You nod in response, Yoongi taking it as leverage to plant a kiss on your lips before moving down to your breasts. He keeps his eyes on you, making sure you don't seem uncomfortable in the slightest bit. But you don't, and it's indicated in the way you bite your bottom lip and arch your back at the way his tongue wraps around your hardened bud. He does the same on the other breast before peppering kisses down your stomach and abdomen.

"Yoongi." You slightly gasp, shy at how unusually close he is to your lady friend.

"What's wrong? Want me to stop?" His thumbs gently caressed your thighs as his head hovered over your pelvis. You shake your head and nervously swallow before speaking once more.

"I-I'm just scared, what if you don't like—"

"Shh." He shushes you. "You're everything to me, you know that. You don't have to change just so I could enjoy you in bed. I'll take good care of you, bub. I promise."

"O-okay." He nods, placing a kiss over your clothed clit before pulling them down to get lost within your sheets. He swipes a finger down your folds, causing your breathing to hitch slightly. You watch as he slowly inserts the same digit inside of you, biting onto his bottom lip watching your facial expressions turn from uncertainty to straight pleasure. "Another." You moan.

"You sure?"

"Yes, please." He inserts another digit, curling his fingers upward as he starts to finger fuck you at a steady pace.

"Shit, you're so wet Y/N." He says lowly before lowering his mouth onto you to get a taste and tease your clit. You gasp at the overwhelming sensation, feeling the pleasure bubbling in your core and you had no idea how to deal with it. He picks up his pace while tonguing your clit and sucking at the right pressure until suddenly, you short circuit and tremble under his grip. You purse your lips together to prevent yourself from moaning too loud with your parents at the other end of the hall [jesus fucking christ], knuckles turning white as you grip the sheets tightly.

Your first orgasm came and washed over you quick.

"Did you just—" He removes his digits from inside of you, drooling at your cum accumulating all over his fingers.

"Holy fuck." You whisper as you regulate your breathing, twitching when Yoongi places a quick kiss on your pussy before coming back up to you.

"How was that?"

"So good. Wanna feel you." You whine, tugging him down towards you.

"I got you, bubby." He says, kissing your jaw, cheek, nose and lips. He reaches over into his pants on the floor, grabbing a condom out of his pocket. You furrow your brow and chuckle, confused if this was something he always did.

"You just carry that around?"

"The guys and I split on a box and carried one each for tonight. Just in case."

"Total fucking assholes." He chuckles.

"Better safe than not, right?" He rips it open with his teeth, spitting the wrapper out onto the floor before rolling it down his cock. He was perfectly thick and long, and it made you a nervous wreck all over again thinking about how this could feel. "Ready? I'll go slow." You nod. You immediately felt immense pressure when you felt Yoongi dip his body and slowly enter you. You winced, Yoongi immediately pausing until you tapped his arm to continue. And so he does, and you continue to breathe through it until he bottoms out and lets out a soft groan against your neck. "Fuck, you're so tight bub. God, you're gonna make me cum quick." He slowly pumps in and out, steadying his pace when he feels you buck your hips up to go along with his motions.

The pleasure skyrocketed; You shut your eyes, letting yourself be in this moment. Feel this moment.

He picks it up a little faster, careful not to bang your headboard against the wall. His forehead is pressed against yours, watching as you let out soft whimpers against his lips.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Yoongi-Yoongi—" You whispered. "You're gonna make me—" It was becoming overwhelming, your clit rubbing against him as he steadied his pace and continued to fuck into you. He nods, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

"Yeah, that's it. Let go. It's okay." And that was enough for you to reach your second orgasm tonight. Quick, but fuck. Yoongi made you feel so good, and you wouldn't want it any other way. You shut your eyes as you hurdled over the edge, mouth open with silent, inaudible moans being released. "So fucking pretty." Yoongi says as he feels himself reaching his high with the way your walls pulsated against his cock.

God. So, so good.

He holds onto the headboard and quickly fucks into you until he's spilling his seed in the condom, muffled moans being released against the crook of your neck. It takes a moment before Yoongi raises his head, your hands running through his black hair while he presses a tender kiss against your lips. He slowly removes himself, wrapping the condom in a tissue before tossing it into your trash can. He plops next to you and welcomes you into his arms, caressing you to soothe you from your first time.

"You okay?"

"More than okay." You say, the both of you trying to savor the moment before trying to navigate where to go from here.

What now?

Third Quarter: College, Junior Year (Present)

You bent down, hands resting against your knees as you tried to catch your breath during the timeout Coach Chu had called with 5.2 seconds literally left on the clock. He laid out the play he wanted you and the team to pull off in order to gain the win over Berkeley.

It had to be executed perfectly. No flaws.

Coach Chu had been riding your ass since you were a freshman. But, over the years, you've learned how to work through his tough love and turn it into positives, bettering yourself on and off the floor. It paid off, and he saw the fire in you, finally moving you up to starting point guard right before the season ended. Some team members hated it at first, but eventually, grew to work with it as well.

The plan was to have you come down into the paint and lay up the ball or take a shot at the very last second to avoid Berkeley from getting another chance at scoring. Sometimes you hated the pressure, but you've also learned that a big part of playing ball was thriving under pressure.

Your team closes up the huddle before you and your teammates are heading back out onto the floor to try and get this win. You shake off the nerves, bouncing the ball out of bounds until you check it in with your teammate. After that— it was like a blur. Shit happened so quick, you couldn't even process it. You passed the ball and dashed over to the other side of the court while your teammate put up a screen. You rose your hand as you ran into the paint, adrenaline rushing through your veins as you awkwardly lay up the ball in the position you were in and stumble onto the ground from losing your footing. You turn your head as the buzzer went off, noticing that the ball had bounced off the rim.

You missed a fucking lay up.

How could you miss a fucking lay up?

"Fuck!" You cry as you sit up and smack the floor.

"Aye, it's all good girl! Ain't a big deal! You win some, you lose some! We still got a ways to go!" Your teammate [roommate, and closest college friend] Clarice said as she helped you up. She was right, but every loss to you was a big loss no matter what. Coach was for sure gonna drill you about this too, and you were already mentally preparing.

"Thanks." You mumble. You look out at the disappointed crowd slowly dispersing, wishing you could still catch a familiar face in the crowd.

But, Yoongi hadn't been to your game in years. So you thought. You never caught him if he ever stepped foot into your game.

Your head hung low as the familiar feeling of pain and loneliness came rushing back while you headed to the locker room. Too bad you didn't see him hiding out on the side of the bleachers with Lucas.

"Y/N, a word." Coach Chu says, leading you into his office.

Fuck, here we go.

You shut the door behind you and stand awkwardly in front of his desk, fiddling with your fingers.

"Look, I just want to say that you put on hell of a show tonight, win or lose. We still have plenty of games left, plenty of opportunities to lock in play-offs. Alright? Don't be upset."

"Thanks Coach." You give him a tiny smile.

"Are you doing okay?"

"Uh, yeah. I think so."

"What's on your mind?"

"Nothing coach, just been a hectic couple of weeks." In which, it was no lie. You crammed for test after test, project after project. You barely had any time to breathe this year.

"Well, my door is always open if you need to chat." You nod. "I'll see you at practice. Enjoy your night."

"Thanks again." You say as you exit his office and get yourself showered and into comfier clothes.

Meanwhile, Yoongi heads back to his dorm room alongside Lucas, hands dug deep into his pockets while his head hung low.

"You ever gonna talk to her?"

"I don't know." He sighs. "Pretty sure I fucked up any chance of that."

"Look, dude. You haven't really been the same since you and Y/N fell out." Yoongi stays silent as they slowly climb the steps up to their room. "Why are you just gonna leave it like this? It's been so long already. Doesn't it bother you?"

"Positive she doesn't want me around." Lucas shakes his head.

"You haven't even tried. You just gave up and that shit is cold, to be honest. I know Y/N always held it down for you, I would have expected you to do the same." The words cut through Yoongi so deep, he doesn't even know how to respond and leaves it at that.

As you heavily dragged your body back to the dorms and took your sweet ol' time, your mind began to wander back to Yoongi as well. After he had taken your virginity that night, things took a turn for the worst.

He treated you differently, created this distance that allowed you to grow farther and farther apart from each other until he was no longer in your grasp and vice versa.

You went from Yoongi being a part of your every day to nothing. And fuck, did it hurt you. You cried and cried, until you were so tired of crying. You had to pick yourself up and keep it moving no matter what. Life waits for nobody.

You reminisce on those days of debating over who could really be considered the greatest. Although, you did pay your respects to the bigs, the greats— Kobe, Magic, MJ, Lebron— you paid respect where it was rightfully due. However, Derrick Rose at his prime? Rajon Rondo? Chris Paul?

Hell, even Baron Davis, Monte Ellis. Rookie Steph Curry? Shiiit. They were it for you, and Yoongi used to dog your ass on how unrealistic you were being.

That was all gone.

He must be having a ball watching Steph climb up those charts now, though. You wonder what he would say to you.

The days of going to basketball games, to each other's basketball games, to ordering hella pizza and creating chaos in either house over the dunk contest during the NBA All Star Week or yelling all around the living room and jumping on couches during the NBA playoff season and championship games— All gone.

If you knew this would drastically change you and Yoongi, you would have never let that night happen. You continued to put on your brave face, your thick, tough skin even though deep down, it took everything in you to suppress the hurt, betrayal and confusion. Even after all these years.

He meant everything to you. Did you not to him? You could never understand until this day. How could he dispose of you so, so quickly?

You see him on campus and quickly break any eye contact, or run the opposite way. You were tired of doing this even though you felt like you needed closure. Some explanation. You deserved it. But you weren't gonna initiate that. Even if Yoongi did, you don't even know if things could ever go back to the way it was. He promised he would never hurt you, but he has. He still is hurting you. The wounds— it cut deep. Deeper than he could ever imagine.

"Hello?" You smile, hearing your dad on the other line.

"Hey dad."

"Hey baby! How was your game? I'm sorry I couldn't catch it tonight, work kept me behind." You sigh.

"Eh, it's probably good you didn't. Didn't turn out so well." He picks up on how your voice cracks ever so slightly, enough to indicate that you were trying your hardest not to break down about your performance. "I missed the winning shot."

"Oh sweetheart, you'll get 'em next time. You always do. You still have a couple of games left don't you?"

"Yeah, but it doesn't change the fact that I played shitty as hell tonight."

"There's always room for improvement, only way to go is up from here right?" He says softly, making you smile. "You'll get 'em next time, I have no doubt. You always know how to better yourself even when I think you've already reached your highest potential."

"Thanks Dad. You always were my number one fan."

"I still am." He chuckles. "How's everything else? School?"

"Fine." He always has to stop himself from asking about Yoongi, even to ask if there's been the slightest change to your relationship.

"You sure?"

"Course." You lie.

"Alright, well you know me and your mom are here for you if you need anything."

"I know."

"I'll let you go and get some rest, alright? Don't be so hard on yourself."

"Mmm, I'll try." You chuckle. "I love you."

"Love you too. And hey, baby?"

"Yeah?"

"Always remember that you deserve everything good in this world. If someone can't handle you at your worse, they sure as hell don't deserve you at your best."

"Thank you." You smile as if your dad can see you through the phone before hanging up and unlocking your dorm door.

"Sigma Nu party going on tonight, wanna come and slide through?" Clarice asks as she watches you toss your duffle aside.

"I'm tired, not in the mood."

"So aren't I, but I think we both need it. Come on girl, just for a little." You sigh. Clarice had also been there by your side since you both were freshmen recruits. One day, she came into the room and found you a crying mess, causing her to wrap her arms around you and craddle you until you calmed down. You had spilled the beans about Min Yoongi, especially when he quickly became the talk of the campus as a ladies man and one of the best freshmen recruits Stanford has ever seen. You hated it, but a part of you still found yourself happy that he was getting the recognition he deserved as a ball player.

He wasn't the tallest, or the biggest, but boy had heart and played every game like it was his last. You had been his number one fan, and even though you hated him, that fact would never change.

Anyways, without Clarice, you weren't sure where you'd be. Definitely not here because you'd be too busy running away from your past and all the issues that came with it.

Yeah, yeah. Go ahead and say it. You would be stupid enough to not go to your first choice just because of a stupid boy.

"Fine, fine. I'm leaving as soon as someone wants to start acting up and getting all crazy though."

"Deal." She chuckles. You've learned how to dress up a little more— and by a little we mean baggy sweats, a crop tight fitting tee and chapstick. No way in hell you'd get dolled up for a party. Out of the years you've already been here, you probably went to two parties. One being the party Coach Chu threw at his house for a record-breaking season. The other was a legit party that you stepped foot in for all of 2 seconds before you figured it was time to head home, especially after seeing Yoongi hugged up with some chick and disgustingly tonguing her down while groping her ass.

Shit, you were never gonna get used to it.

The frat house is fucking packed and wreaks of weed even down the corner. You and Clarice push your way through, greeting people who were acknowledging your presence and waving at your other teammates that were also present.

"More basketball babes have arrived, let's go!" One of the frat guys cheers as you and Clarice make your way to the kitchen where all the alcohol is laid out.

"One shot?" She asks as she already has her hand wrapped around the Svedka handle.

"One and done." You tell her. You shouldn't have let her pour the shot though because now, you're stuck with nasty ass vodka near the halfway mark of the cup. "Clarice, what the fuck is this?"

"It's called savoring our one."

"You're fucked up." You joked as you tap your cup against hers and take the shot in three chugs. "Really fucked up." You wince.

"Come, lets go see what the other girls are up to and hang out for a bit." You follow her lead to the corner of the living room, chatting it up with your team before dancing around in the little corner you all occupied— keeping as far away as possible from sloppy and messy dudes.

You turned to eye the crowd at some point, catching Yoongi coming down the stairs, a female following from behind holding his hand. Then, they disappear to the outside of the house. You swallow the lump in your throat, the room feeling hotter than it already was.

Why he still had this affect on you, you had no idea.

Clarice and your teammates are too busy cracking jokes that they don't realize you've slipped away to get some air. You're finding that the crowd has come bigger in the short amount of time you've been here and navigating through it has become difficult. You're having to bob, weave and shove your way out, letting out a sigh the closer you get to the front of the house. You're also really glad you've been able to steer clear from—

"Shit, my bad." You unintentionally bump into someone making your way to the front from the side of the house due to you keeping your head low.

"Y/N?" You whip your head around to see Yoongi raising a brow, dropping his arm from the same chick's shoulders.

"Hi." You give him a fake, tight-lipped smile and rush your way to the front of the house. Thank god you finally make it because you were starting to feel claustrophobic, even being outside. However, you weren't prepared for Yoongi to come after you and grab your wrist the way he did.

"Wait, I didn't expect you to be here." Out of defense, you quickly snatch your wrist away from his grip and furrow your brows at him.

"Yeah, and now I'm leaving."

"Why, hang out for a bit—"

"And what, Yoongi? Watch you be the life of the party? Watch you walk around all fine and dandy like shit never happened between us?" You feel the tears welling up on your bottom lids, but you promised yourself you would never cry over him again. You refuse to. He had already taken up so much of you that you refuse to give him any more.

"Is that what you really think?" He says, the hurt apparent in his expression. To be frank, no. Yoongi really, really never meant to hurt you. And just like he had mentioned before, he would never forgive himself if he ever hurt you. He hasn't forgiven himself. He hasn't forgiven himself for how he let you slip out of his grasp when it was his own fault for pushing aside his feelings for you. He thought the world of you, the only woman who kept it real with him and stuck by him through the highest of highs, lowest of lows. There was no one as special as you, no one who could ever be as special as you, no matter how many times he tried to sink his dick into other females.

No one was real like you.

But, he was also conflicted because of that. He felt like he couldn't give you the love you rightfully deserved, he didn't think he could love you properly. He had so much to learn and he didn't wanna hurt you in the process. It sounds so fucking stupid [because it is] that he thought distancing himself was better than just being honest. He was a dumbass high schooler, he didn't know any better. But, he never meant to make you feel special for one night, then run from it. You were always special to him. You had always been. You always will be. And these past years hurt like a bitch, but he coudn't find the words to explain. Eventually, he just believed he would do less damage if you both remained distant this way.

Although, he longed for you. He really needed you just as you needed him. He always has, always will.

So when the two of you bump into each other tonight, he felt like maybe, it was a sign. Maybe it was time to stop being childish.

God, he missed your face.

God, he was a fucking asshole.

"No, I'm not doing this shit." You shake your head. "Just— continue to stay away from me, okay? I'm better off without you." The words sting you, but it doesn't sting you as much as it stings Yoongi. You glare at him once more before you turn on your heel and begin walking down the street to head back to your dorm.

"Y/N! Wait up!" Clarice calls for you, eyeing Yoongi as she passes him to catch up with you down the street. "Hey, hey. You okay?" She swings her arm around you when she catches you silently crying to yourself. "What did he do, Y/N?"

"He fucking exists, that's what." You groan. "Ugh, fuck! I'm not supposed to be crying over his dumbass, I'm better than this Clarice— Why the fuck am I crying over it?" You break down, crouching down to your knees, causing Clarice to hover over you and pull you into a hug.

"Maybe you just need to let it out and stop forcing yourself to not feel anything."

"I hate him, I hate him, I hate him." You bawled into your arms. "I hate him so much." She caressed your back. "But he still finds a way to mean so much to me."

"I think it's time for you two to talk."

"I can't. It's just better this way."

"Are you sure? Because look at you, Y/N. You're a mess, and this hasn't even been the first time you broke down about him. As much as you want to believe that you're fine without him, you're not. He was your bestfriend and I think you need him more than you even know yourself."

"He's doing fine without me."

"You don't know that, baby. Dudes are annoying as fuck because they can literally go on about their day and mask that shit well. If he's ready, let him explain. Hear him out. You both may be misunderstanding the entire situation." It takes you a good minute before you can finally gather yourself and make it back to your dorm room with Clarice.

She was right.

But you were so angry more than anything. You were angry and you weren't sure how you could get past it.

He left your side. 

And so the next day, you go about your day in class, staying quieter than usual during practice. For the most part, Coach Chu was always on your ass because of how vocal you were and how much you caught an attitude when things didn’t go the way you'd like it to. So, to see you this quiet, almost sullen even, concerns him. But, he already pressed you once and he wasn't gonna do it again to avoid irritating you any further.

You run the usual conditioning drills, practicing play by play before a final scrimmage game for the night. You push yourself hard like you always do, almost coming out of practice dry heaving from how tired you are. It was your bad habit though, you wouldn't quit until you got it right. Until you felt right. And unfortunately, it's another one of those nights where you feel unsatisfied with your performance. So, you take it upon yourself to continue practicing in the empty gym that was set to close within the next hour. You're tired out of your mind, and you know this is probably a bad idea, but you can't shake off the feeling of dissatisfaction. To you, that was the next worst thing. Right behind Yoongi.

You begin to work on your three pointers, lay ups and shots out of range before you start to play a scrimmage game with yourself.

"I'll play you." You suddenly hear, the sweat beads dripping down your forehead at this point. You watch Yoongi as he drops his water bottle off at the side of the court before walking over to you.

"Go away."

"Afraid you'll lose?"

"No, I just don't wanna play your ass." You shot up the ball, only for it to bounce off the backboard and land in Yoongi's hand.

"Ball up. Let's play till 10."

"Why the hell do you wanna play me, Yoongi? Don't you have a random chick to bone?"

"I'm clearly standing right in front of you aren't I? Quit fucking talking and play." He aggressively passes you the ball to check it in, you following suit, making the ball damn near bounce off of his chest with how hard you pass it back. He knew exactly how to rile you up.

You get into the zone quickly, trying to find some kind of redemption for the way you had been feeling lately. Redemption, validation, way to take the edge off— anything, really. It was only until the first person scored to 10, but Yoongi was putting up one hell of a fight, jet black hair parted down the middle and matted to his forehead from the sweat building up. You take the lead, sitting at 8 while Yoongi sat at a sad 6 points.

"Ball." You call out as you scored a layup, ramming yourself against the padded wall with the force you had put up.

"That's 10."

"Ball, Yoongi." You huffed and puffed.

"Stop, don't overwork yourself. You just got—"

"Suddenly you care? Stop being a pussy and pass me the goddamn ball." He furrows his brows as he passes you the ball, crouching down to meet you at eye level to try and guard you. You run towards the right of the court, pulling a pump fake before you pivot to get away from Yoongi's guard. You pivot hard and drive it up to the basket, only to fall on the wrong footing and twist your ankle on the way down. "Ouch, fuck!"

"Shit, Y/N!" Yoongi comes to your side, hand supporting your back as the other is on your ankle.

"I'm fine, leave me—"

"Stop being so fucking stubborn and let me help you." He says angrily. You don't say anything else while you fix your position on the floor. "Can you wiggle it at least?"

"Y-yeah." You wince as you wiggle your foot and roll it around a couple of times. Phew, at least this shit wasn't gone for good. But Coach Chu still wouldn't be happy to hear you sprained your ankle releasing your anger on Yoongi during a dumb game. Yoongi helps you stand, arm around your waist as he throws your arm around his neck and holds you steady by the wrist.

"Try walking on it."

"I can, but it hurts a little." Yoongi sighs.

"You just sprained it. Let's go get you some ice or something at the nursing center before going back to your dorm." You silently nod as you hang onto Yoongi for extra support, careful not to make the situation any worse than it already is. He has you sit on the chair within the nursing center, the nurse coming over to wrap your ankle nicely before giving you crutches and some instant hot compress to pop onto it. She orders for security to drive you two over to the dorm building in their go-cart so that you wouldn't have to do much walking on your foot while you focused on healing.

Yoongi doesn't leave your side, even after you've walked into your dark, empty dorm room, not really knowing where Clarice is at right now [possibly library]. He shuts your door and sits you on the edge of your bed, setting your crutches near your bed side and your instant hot compress.

"You need anything else?" Your head hangs low as you slightly chuckle and shake your head.

"Why are you doing this?" You ask him lowly before looking back up at him, tears clouding your vision. "Hm? Why, Yoongi?"

"You're hurt, why wouldn't I—"

"Hmm." You hum. "I'm hurt? So where the fuck were you after prom night? When I was hurt then, where the fuck have you been?" You began to cry.

"Y/N." His tongue swipes over his lips before he sighs. "I'm sorry." He says, close to a whisper.

"Are you? Because I don't think you really understand how bad you hurt me." You aggressively wipe away your tears while continuing to look at him, his body language soft and full of regret. "You didn't care about me."

"How could you say that? I cared—" He sighs as his head drops for a second. "I care about you more than you know."

"If you did then why the fuck was it so easy for you to drop me the way you did?!" You yelled. "You just don't do that to the people you care about, especially if it’s your bestfriend."

"Look, you're right. I have no excuse for the way I acted, and if I could turn back time to re-do it, I would. But I can't, and the only thing I can do is apologize and do my best to make it up to you." His bottom lip trembles as he steps closer to you, a small frown forming at the corners of his mouth.

"Yoongi." You cried. "I did everything for you, I stuck by you through everything, even during the times you didn't deserve that shit from me. But I stayed! I stood by you because you meant everything to me and god—" You groaned. "I needed you. I needed you and you weren't there! I fucking hate you for doing this shit to me but part of me will always have love for you no matter how fucked up the situation is. I will always drop everything for you. I will always care about you, and it's so unfair." It broke Yoongi's heart and he didn't know what to say, but he wraps his arms around you anyway, keeping you in a tight hug against his chest. He's surprised that you let him, even more surprised at how he feels your body soften under his touch.

"Fuck, I'm so, so sorry bub." He says lowly as he presses a kiss on top of your head. "I'm so sorry."

"Please don't ever go again." You cry against his chest.

"No, I'm not. I'm gonna be right here." He says hugging you tighter. "You're the only one who's ever understood me, who's ever kept it real with me. I don't deserve you, but I know damn sure I'll work hard to make up for letting you go in the first place." He places another kiss on top of your head. "I'm right here. Not going anywhere. I'm so sorry."

- - -

5.

4.

3.

2.

1.

"THE STANFORD BOYS TAKE THE CHAMPIONSHIP!" The commentator screams into his mic, Yoongi running a lap around the court before he's cheering loudly with his teammates and joining the group hug. You run down the bleachers, dashing straight into Yoongi's arms while he swings you around.

"That's what I'm fucking talking about!" You squeal and giggle as Yoongi places you back down and plants multiple kisses around your face, hands resting on the small of your back.

"Let's get out of here." He whispers in your ear.

"I'll wait at your car, bighead." You wink, causing him to smile that gummy smile of his that you adore more than life itself.

There's obviously a huge party going on tonight to celebrate this huge achievement, but Yoongi says he doesn't wanna join for once. He's happy, yeah. But the way he wants to celebrate is in peace. After so long, he feels like he can finally say he's content with where his life is at and where it's going. He drives over to the nearest beach, backing into a space so the both of you could sit in the back and try catching all the shooting stars up above. Yoongi leans against the side of the trunk, allowing you to lay your head on his lap while you curled up beside him listening to the waves slowly crash against the sand.

"Saw one." He says, looking up at the sky.

"You're a punk, no you didn't."

"What?" He laughs. "How are you about to say that? I caught it with my own two eyes."

"Oop! I saw one!"

"Now that's a lie. I was looking up too."

"Shut up." You laugh, causing Yoongi to tickle you along the sides before he stops and plants a kiss on your lips. It's silent for a minute while the two of you take in the night view— The sky and ocean coming together as one, forming a view that seemed endless.

"Hey."

"Hm?" You hum as Yoongi's fingers gently brush through your hair.

"You know I love you right?"

"Ew with the sappy shit, Min Yoongi." He laughs.

"Seriously."

"I know." You smile up at him. "I love you too."

"Come here." He says softly, tugging you upwards. You sit up, allowing Yoongi to press his lips against yours. He pulls you in by your shirt, having you straddle his lap while he grips onto your hips and immediately grinds against you. You let out a small moan feeling how quickly he hardened, his cock hitting you in the right places as you continue to grind on him. "Fuck, wanna feel you babygirl."

"Here?"

"Yeah." He chuckles and bites onto his bottom lip.

"What, all of a sudden you're scared?"

"Fuck off." You fire back, releasing his hardened member from its confines as you stroke him gently. He tilts his head back in pleasure before tugging your shorts and panties to the side, enough for him to cop a feel of how wet you are.

"Baby's all wet."

"What're you gonna do about it?" You whisper against his lips, biting onto his bottom lip and pulling back slightly. He hisses at the sensation before he moves your hand from his cock and takes control. He pushes you upward, positioning you enough to line up with your entrance.

"Take this shit off."

"Yoongi, we're in public."

"So, you're all talk and no play."

"I hate you."

"Nobody's here." He groans. "Just take off your shorts, pleeease." He begs as he slowly strokes himself. You toss aside your shorts, Yoongi immediately hooking his finger at the bottom of your panties and tugging it aside in order to push himself into you. He does enough before he lets you do the rest of the work and sink down on his length, a gasp leaving your throat as you take all of him in. He grips your hips tightly, setting the pace as he groans into your neck, your fingers tangled in his hair resting at the nape of his neck.

"Shit, babe." You moan as you tilt your head back.

"Fuck, you always ride me so well." He presses light kisses against your neck before he's nipping at the surface.

"Godddd why do you feel so good?" You whimper.

"You like how I feel inside of you?" You nod. "Yeah? Like how my cock fills you up?"

"Never gonna get tired of it." You moan, Yoongi making you pick up the pace aggressively. Besides the waves crashing, the lewd noises of skin slapping against skin fills the car, along with your soft moans and Yoongi's groans. Your clit is constantly rubbing against him, causing the pleasure to build so quickly it becomes overwhelming. You try to hold off as much as you can but—

"My pretty baby. All I fucking need." He almost growls, the words enough to send you over the edge. You let out a loud moan, not even caring for the houses nearby as your orgasm hits hard and ripples throughout your body, sending aftershocks. Yoongi continues to have you ride him fast and hard, the overwhelming sensation causing a hint of pain to mix with more pleasure until  you feel him feel you up. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He groans as his nails dig into your skin, giving two good thrusts upwards into you to help ride out his high. You both sit in the position for a minute, trying to come back down from your highs. Yoongi gives you a delicate peck on the lips, smiling into the kiss before he pulls away. "Swear you're all I need."

"See, I don't know if I could say the same." He smacks your ass as you hike up and off of him to put on your shorts.

"Take it back."

"I'm kidding." You blush.

"My ride or die. Are you with me?"

"Always have been. Are you?"

"You know I am."

"Good. You know it takes two." He smiles before pulling you into another hug and pressing a kiss against your temple.

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Be Here | The Mikaelson Boys

Hey lovelies! You ever just take a year to write a part two? Well, thanks to @hellotvshowtrash 's writing challenge I have finally written the second part to Come Back. I straight up just sat down and wrote this in less then two hours. The muses have blessed me and said Elijah Mikaelson reunion fic or nothing. I am not stupid-- I will not deny them. Shoutout to Lottie (@imdreamingwiththestars) for making me miss these boys <3

Description: Elijah was dead and now he's not, stand-alone sequel to Come Back

Pairing: The Mikaelson Boys x Fem!Reader, Mainly Elijah

Prompt: "What was it like to die?"

Warnings: rushed writing, mentions of depression

Word count: 2k

Tags: Soft Angst and then Fluff

It’s been two years— well, almost two years. One year, eight months, and seventeen days. But who’s counting, right? Certainly not you. Certainly you wouldn’t be stupid enough to honestly believe that he’s coming back. Even after the promises. His promises and their promises— it doesn’t matter. Both mean nothing. You don’t blame them but you would be naive to believe them.

Still, you keep count— just in case. There’s no harm in that, right? Two years— one year, eight months, and seventeen days— without Elijah Mikaelson. Your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach, your throat closing like it’s been only a few hours. Maybe there’s a little bit of harm.

You press your face harder into the sweater curled under your head. It doesn’t smell like him anymore— there’s no cinnamon left, none of his at least. None of the sugary vanilla that used to encase her like a NOLA bakery. Only traces of Kol’s nutty cinnamon blend— he must’ve snuck in here last night at some point. Both him and Klaus occasionally do. You don’t blame them for that either— you don’t have a monopoly on missing Elijah Mikaelson.

Slipping out of his sheets is harder than you would admit if either of the brothers were to ask you. It’s not like they’re warm or anything— they’re just as ice cold as the rest of the room— but they’re his and the thought of going the rest of the day without them just doesn’t appeal to you the way it should. Voices flit up the stairs but you don’t strain hard enough to make out the words. You could if you wanted to but there’s no point— you don’t care anymore. Not about trivial things— not about talking. You only do it when you have to these days.

The trek across the room to the door takes what feels like an hour. In reality you’re sure it’s only seconds but, well, this time you aren’t counting so who knows— maybe it did take you an hour. Sun is filtering past the curtains now, painting a stripe through the dim room and across the oak floor. An hour. You pause beside his dresser, debating going in to dig out a new hoodie. You haven’t taken a new one in about three months but your stash is running sparse. It’s not a hard decision, pushing past the dresser and leaving it untouched— you’ll need it more later.

In the hallway things feel different. You can’t put your finger on what it is exactly. There’s a slight shift in the atmosphere and a little more of a kick to the energy in the compound. It feels alive— like everything is humming. The hair on the back of your neck raises instinctively, the answer on your tongue but not quite forming. It’s probably nothing— you haven’t slept in two weeks. It’s probably exhaustion. You’re a vampire but you’re not impervious to sleep deprivation. Time marches on whether or not you acknowledge it— whether or not you reject it. You’ve learned that the hard way.

It’s why you keep padding towards your room, feet soft on the hardwood, trying desperately not to draw the attention of whoever’s in the kitchen. The electric charge in the air follows you to your bedroom, increasing ten-fold when you cross the threshold and halting your advance. You haven’t been in here in weeks but for some reason it feels like everything’s been disturbed. Not in a noticeable way— there’s still a thin layer of dust over everything— but something’s off. Your stomach rolls as you glance around at your things, the pressure building as your neck tingles. You could honestly just fucking scream.

Still, you push further, braving the sudden unknown of your room with a burst of stamina you haven’t felt in months. Breaching the doorway feels like being sucked into a new planet, one unrecognizable and dangerous. Thankfully you don’t need oxygen because you’re pretty sure there’s none in your room. Your chest is tight— heavy— and you make quick work of changing into a new pair of shorts and a Rolling Stones t-shirt that’s been hanging untouched in your closet for at least a year. You haven’t been afraid of it, per say, but you certainly weren’t ready to wear it. Today feels like the day though.

It isn’t until you go to sit on the bed, not bothering to even try to balance as you put your socks on, that you’re finally rewarded with a clue that you may not be as crazy as you feel. It’s warm— the bed is warm. Not the whole bed— because yes, you do reach out to check— only the part you happen to sit on. It’s warm like someone was just sitting here minutes ago and you spring up as quickly as you went down, closing your eyes and pulling in as much air from the room as possible. You’re getting to the bottom of this now. When the air reaches your nose some of the pieces begin to click together—

Cinnamon.

Only a faint trace of it but still your chest jumps— is it— no don’t be stupid it couldn’t be. You thump a hand against your chest to clear the feeling as you force your legs to carry you out the door. You realize too late that you only have one sock, your bare foot pressing against the cold wood of the staircase, but you’re too far and too determined to go back now. You’ve got to find Kol and you have a pretty good idea you know where he is.

Sugar wafts to your nose as you press towards the kitchen, mixed with a touch of citrus— Klaus must’ve picked up your favourite pastries. As you reach the door voices flit stronger to your ears. You can make out Klaus’ hushed tone but not his words, followed by a comment from Kol that you can’t decipher. Good, they’re both here.

The kitchen is by far the brightest room you’ve ventured into in months, the countertops gleaming so bright you have to squint, throwing a hand over your brows. When you blink, clearing the glare however, you notice something peculiar— no pastries. You could have sworn you just smelled them—

“Love, you’re awake.” There’s a whoosh of air followed by two hands on your face and the lingering scent of honey shampoo.

You smile weakly up at Klaus, shrugging. “Was never really asleep.”

Another pair of hands wrap around your stomach, pulling you into a nutmeg chest, lips finding your head. “That’s not healthy, darling. How long’s it been now?”

Shrugging again— this time at Kol— you let your eyes wander the kitchen, nose wrinkling at the heady sugar scent. “Two weeks, give or take.”

You can’t locate the source— but, then again, you can’t see past Klaus’s worried eyes. You watch as he tosses a look behind your head, presumably at Kol. When you roll your head back though you find that his brother’s brown eyes aren’t meeting his stare but are also tilted behind him. You chest jumps again, the air thickening, energy coursing through you— what the hell is going on?

You push away from the boys, arms crossing over your chest as you turn to the source of whatever’s got the compound disrupted this morning. Opening your mouth, you go to make a snarky remark— or to scream, you aren’t sure— but when you finally see it all that comes out is a soundless gush of air. All words are lost as your eyes drag over the back of a familiar brunette head, passing down a muscled back and over sweatpants you haven’t seen worn in years. One year, eight months, and seventeen days. It’s all you can do to poke your tongue out of your mouth, sweeping it over your dry mouth and tasting sugar.

There’s just no way.

You take a step backwards, back slamming into one of the brothers but unable to tear your eyes away from the figure long enough to see who. “What— what’s happening?”

Always the noble one, Elijah Mikaelson doesn’t keep you waiting, whirling on his feet, a box of pancake mix in his hands. “Couldn’t have waited ten more minutes, baby?”

You’re not alive but for a moment it feels like your heart stops as you drink in the man in front of you. Brown hair, brown eyes, stubble on his jaw the same as the day he died. Your vision clouds over, tears tugging at the corners of your eyes but you refuse to blink them away. You’re not risking clearing a vision this clear.

You take a tentative step forward, afraid that if you move too quickly the mirage might evaporate. “Elijah?”

“Hey baby.”

If your dead heart stopped upon seeing his silhouette then it restarts when he passes you the familiar, crooked smile that you fell in love with all those decades ago— the same one you’ve been longing for since the day he left you.

Fuck tiptoeing.

You’re across the room in record time, your hair flying behind you as you launch yourself into his arms, praying to whoever will listen that your body hits something solid. There’s a muted thud followed by his arms wrapping around you— his physical, cinnamon sugar scented arms. At his reciprocated touch you finally let yourself sob. You can’t remember the last time you actually let yourself cry but you are now and it’s finally out of relief.

Your hands attack his face, palms deranged and fingers haphazardly dragging across his neck and jaw and scalp. Your shoulders are shaking, tears hot against your face and pooling over your lips but you refuse to look away from his gaze. He looks just as wild as you feel, brown eyes ticking rapidly over your features. It’s all you can do to smash your mouth against his, crying through the kiss before laughing because he still tastes like your Elijah. Like cinnamon buns and sweetness.

“This can’t be real— you’re dead. I saw you die!” You sob against his lips.

He presses his mouth back just as hard, hands digging against your skin and clawing at his band t-shirt. You reciprocate by squeezing your thighs harder around his hips, pressing your body as close to his as you can get. It’s not enough but you feel like you can finally breathe again when you crush your arms around his shoulders.

“I know—” he finally murmurs into your mouth— “but I’m here. Right here.”

You pull away, hands still carding through his soft hair, pulling at the damp strands. “‘Lijah you were dead— I— I thought you weren’t coming—”

Your chest feels heavy again but he’s quick to move, cutting your destructive train of thought with his cinnamon and honey lips. You don’t mind— he could do anything right now and you would still cling to him like your life depends on it. Kissing him has been at the top of your list for two years now— you’re not going to refuse. One of his hands lowers, hooking around your thigh and tugging you higher up his body. You’re not the only one whose life depends on staying as connected as possible.

“It’s real— I’m real. I promised you, baby. I’m back— I promise I’m back.”

Just like that you’re back to giggling against his mouth, arms anchored behind his neck. Soon your head is falling back, the euphoria rolling through your body like nothing you’ve ever felt before. You would never wish for him— for any of them— to leave you again but this feeling makes every gruelling day worth it. He’s back. As if to prove it his lips find your neck, kissing over your skin feverishly.

After a few moments of soaking in the attention of the resurrected man you finally pull yourself together enough to attempt a true conversation like a respectable woman.

“What was it like to die?”

He chuckles against your skin, shaking his head, his lips never leaving you. “I’ll tell you later— there are a few matters we need to sort out first baby, starting with getting you out of that fucking t-shirt. It’s been too long.”

Who are you kidding— he’s right and you hum your agreement, lips searching for his, desperate once more—

“One year, eight months, and seventeen days too long.”

[5uptic]

hey fanfic spotlight again:)

arm candy by amsves (5up/Fundy, general rating, m/m | 300 words)

Summary: The first thing Fundy does after the stream ends is lean over and engulf 5up in his arms.

a chance encounter by mangoedges (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 450 words)

Summary: Who would have thought Apollo would find his soulmate now?

Desecration Smile by AllianettemiE5 (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: No summary.

She said to me, Oh Death / Come close my eyes by Anonymous (Apollo/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: Steve thought the words on his wrist were the coolest thing ever, but they just didn’t make sense. No, really; he even asked 5up–had called him in a possibly drunk state on his twentieth birthday, when a prickling sensation on his arm made him think that he was about to die, 5up, help, and was reminded drily that it was his soulmark, dumbass–and the best his smartest friend (self-proclaimed) could offer was, “Maybe your soulmate’s a poet?” Completely useless. Steve remembered hanging up on him, the click of his mobile cutting off his indignant exclamation. It was only the next day that he looked, properly looked, at his soulmark and tried to make sense of it. Nope. That didn’t work out either; he blamed the hangover. For the longest time ever, he just dismissed it as the universe fucking up. A slash in the middle of a phrase? Ridiculous.

why’d you only call me when you’re high? by LVTO (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: “I miss you,” Steve mumbles through the phone, and his voice has that soft, honest tone that it always does when he’s like this. 5up’s heart clenches. It’s these moments that keep him from leaving like he should’ve done four months ago, these soft-spoken truths that time and time again have him believing that maybe, maybe this time will be different. It never is. or 5up receives a phone call and ponders his life.

jealousy, jealousy by planetwitch (5up/Fundy, teen rating, m/m | 1.1k words)

Summary: 5up and Fundy are best friends and have never crossed that line into something more. Until Fundy gets jealous at 5up's constant admiration for a certain 6 foot tall musician.

mimi's menagerie of the miraculous & the mundane by 5280ft (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.1k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: a drabble for the word of the day, every day, for 100 days.

5up & Co. Throw Yarn at a Wall (and more) by WhenTheFogClears (general rating, gen | 1.3k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: Hafu neither confirmed nor denied, instead snatching the half unraveled ball of yarn out of his hands forcefully, a cheshire grin finding its way onto her face. Before 5up could clearly decipher the situation, she flung it at him, smacking him directly in the center of his face. or 5up loves throwing yarn at walls, and everyone else quickly picks it up from him. But in different ways.

Inside My Mind by SilverSprinklez10 (5up/Apollo, Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.4k words)

Summary: Soulmates are usually a blessing.  But sometimes, a soulmate connection can feel like a curse.

(2021, 190 x 172 cm, oil on canvas) by 5280ft (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.9k words)

Summary: Nobody ever painted anything if they’ve never painted the way 5up closes his eyes when he laughs, how his slender fingers wrap around a new tube of paint, how his smile is all teeth and eye-crinkling. Cabanel’s Fallen Angel has curls, but they aren’t 5up’s, are they? Hyllas, in the nymphs, has fair and delicate hands but 5up’s are prettier, especially when he accidentally squirts paint everywhere and slams his palms on the table and goes “fuck!” Steve cackles until he can’t breathe.

Don't Take Me Tongue-Tied by AoDity, LovelyDayForIt (5up/Sleepy, 5up/Apollo, teen rating, m/m | 2.2k words)

Summary: "Sleepy found the ring by luck, something that matches his lover's graceful beauty that he could still afford. Twisted strands of thin silver with a little shimmering opal in the center, it was perfect." Aka: Sleepy's love for Five brought him heartache. If they try, there's still a chance the two could be happy.

implying that the ferris wheel's your body (and i'd really love admission to it) by homeward_bound (David/Hafu/Steve, mature rating, multi | 2.2k words)

Summary: Steve might be drunk out of his mind, but David's just really hot, okay? [or, steve propositions david, kind of. hafu and dumbdog bear witness to his lapse in judgement.]

mi casa es su casa by some_spooky_shit_right_there (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.9k words)

Summary: Apollo's soulmate is cautious. Except, apparently, when it comes to coffee. Because, for the fifth time this week, Apollo wakes up to a burnt tongue. It's annoying. He can't really be mad though, because he has given his soulmate so much worse. The occasional burnt tongue is a meager act of penance, comparatively.

I love you too (I love you too) by some_spooky_shit_right_there (5up/Apollo/Steve, general rating, multi | 3.9k words)

Summary: Apollo comes into 5up's coffee shop. He always gets a cup of coffee and either a bagel or a croissant. He always seems tired, and he never comes in on weekends. Steve would really love to find out just who, exactly, he is.

i'm more fool than wise by 5fu (5up/Steve, unrated, m/m | 5.8k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: Steven Suptic is a brilliant crewmate - ask anyone. Okay so don't ask Janet. Or Dk. Or Koji. You know what, don't even ask - it's pretty obvious he is. But when new recruit and stunningly intelligent 5up boards the Crewfu, Steve isn't so sure he can compete. Not that he cares. Totally. Absolutely. On their mission to gather intel on Polus and find out what happened to the previous crew that disappeared from the planet three years earlier, Steve may realize that maybe he was indeed more fool than wise - and maybe it wasn't a bad thing.

i was praying that you and me might end up together by Qupid (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 7.8k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: Four years at Polus University. Four first weeks of school. Two strangers become two friends, and maybe even something more. Apollo hates being seen, hates having attention drawn to him, hates living in a world that feels like a game where everyone knows the rules except him. Steve thrives on attention, purposefully draws the gaze of everyone in the room, making his own rules as he floats through life. They're a match made in hell, but Apollo finds that when Steve looks at him, gives him nothing but attention, he doesn't mind being seen after all.

Long Journey Home by some_spooky_shit_right_there (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 9.6k words)

Summary: Homesick and lonesome and I'm feeling kind of blue Feeling kind of blue, boys, feeling kind of blue Homesick and lonesome and I'm feeling kind of blue I'm on my long journey home

there’s so many ways to say “i love you” and i wouldn’t wanna waste ‘em (on someone who, don’t feel it too) by Dear_MaedaysUnwelcomedGhost (5up/Steve, 5up/Hafu, 5up/Ellum, 5up/Kimi, teen rating, multi | 13k words, chaptered)

Summary: Love was a strange thing, 5up found. It was everywhere. And not in the way it may seem. It wasn’t in the adverts of perfect couples with artificial lighting. It wasn’t in the glittery cards made by factories or the flowers sold at grocery stores. Not in the TV shows made to bring in cash and be thrown out, with couples who don’t have anything to hold onto but brief infatuation and physical attraction. But in the friendly smiles of strangers as they pass by. In a mother cutting fruit up for their child. Running a hand through the hair of your partner, as their eyes flutter close and to sleep. Helping a stranger pick up their dropped papers, asking for nothing in return. In the graffiti on the wall by the alleyway you walk by everyday to get to work. To the goods baked by small independent bakeries. Flowers planted in parks to make it just a little nicer, or the ones growing out of pavement cracks with determination.

Also!

GuardianPuppy‘s this city needs to be destroyed or at least painted in a different color collection.

spaded_ace’s Casino in the Sky collection.

5fu’s among all this pain collection.

FAQ:

Wait what is this: pretty straight to the point! i’ll regularly share crewfu-related fanfictions to this blog :)

How regularly is “regularly”?: great question! LOL. it depends on the flow of fanfics that get uploaded, which i do not have any control over, but i’m looking forward to do this twice a month. after all, it’s only me doing this and i often run on a tight schedule.

What’s the format like?:

[title of fic with link] by [author of the fic with link] ([main pairing(s)], [fic rating: eg, general rating], [relationship: eg, m/m] | [word count in k], [added prompt to specify if it’s complete or not])

Summary: [summary provided by the author. if it doesn’t have a summary, a “No summary” prompt will be put instead]

(What does WIP mean again?): Work In Progress :)

Why are you doing this?: from the beginning, my blog has hosted conversations about RPF (real people fiction) and crewfu pairings. this has evolved into people sending me updates about certain fics in the crewfu tags every now and then, but i wanna take the next step and just do these things myself. after all, i’m already lurking in the tags often to see the fics that get posted. as someone who is both a writer and a reader, i wanna appreciate fanfic writers and help out other people that want to read fanfic and consume more fandom content!

Will it be AO3 only?: well, ao3 has a very helpful tag system that makes finding fics incredibly easy, as well as allowing people with no accounts to like and comment on fics, so that’s the site i will personally look in for fanworks. but if there are any fics you’ve written or liked in any other platforms, such as wattpad, you can always contact me through my inbox (send an ask or a dm!), and i’ll make sure to include for the next fanfic spotlight :)

Does it mean you won’t reply to fic asks anymore?: yeah, i guess. since i’ll be doing the searching myself it seems counterproductive. but if i ever skip a fic or again, it’s in another platform, or you’ve posted/read the fic a while ago and you want to get more traction on it, hit me up and i’ll take it into consideration!

Will you read every single one of the fics on your list?: oh no. again, i run on a tight schedule, and also i have my own taste when it comes to fics. i won’t be reviewing fics or any of the sort, and my intention extends to simply sharing these fics to this page so people will have easier access to them :) that’s where ao3 tagging becomes SUPER useful!!!

So what’s the criteria for the way you’ll sort out the fics in your list?: word count, going from lowest to highest. in case of fics in other platforms, i guess i’ll put them at the top of the list. i’ll also be looking for fairly recent fics, so let me know if you want any old-ish fic to be included.

I see you talking mostly about 5up/Steve and Steve/Apollo. Can I still send/see other crewfu fics?: why yes absolutely! my goal is to push every fic which heavily features regular crewfu characters - 5uptic and supdog just happen to be very popular pairings. so, to give you a list: core 4 (5up, hafu, dk, steve), apollo, aipha, annie, janet, kimi, ellum, koji… you know the drill. it doesn’t have to be centered on a relationship, or about 5up in specific, etc. my only requirement is that any of the previously mentioned members are a central part of the fic or are HEAVILY featured in it (sorry, minecraft fics with 50+ tags who only mention 5up as an afterthought won’t make the cut :/).

Isn’t shipping Bad™?: well, it’s a little more nuanced than that. i will go out of my way to discourage and shame people who often violate CCs’ boundaries by acting like so and so has a crush on this person, or that this and that are Actually Into Each Other or secretly dating. any sort of tinhat bullshit is a big nono (think larries). but i run on the assumption that people who write rpf understand that what they’re doing is simply write a completely fictional story using real life personalities, and understand the boundaries necessary to do it - aka they’re not tinhats, they understand they can’t assume everything about CCs’ thoughts and personalities, they understand that what they’re writing is strictly fiction, they keep these works only in fandom circles, etc. (but again, it’s only one me doing this, so please be kind if i don’t happen to know that this person is Actually a tinhat or whatever).

show fic: NO. (seriously. i don’t feel comfortable putting my ao3 account out there. please respect my privacy on these trying times <3)

I REALLY don’t care about your rpf/fic talk: fair! i’ll be tagging every single one of these posts as “fanfic spotlight”, so just mute the tag using tumblr settings so you’ll never have to look at these! likewise, you can follow the tag if you want to keep up with it, or search it on my blog to look at the other entries you might have missed.

Hey, my fic is here and I don’t feel comfortable with it being shared over here: no problem! let me know as soon as you can and i’ll take it down <3

[fanficlibraryposts]

Larry Stylinson(1D) Fic Recs

sleeping on our problems by falsegoodnight

I’m in love with you, Louis thinks. He feels empty, weighed down by his sadness and the loss of Harry inside him just moments ago before his knot finally went down. There’s moments where he’s sure Harry feels the same. Like now, when he’s gazing down at Louis with so much adoration and tenderness. It’s like they’re both on the cusp of something more, but neither of them ever say a word. His confession is on the tip of his tongue ready to slide out like honey, and yet he remains silent. They both do, looking at each other and recognizing the reluctance mirrored in each other’s eyes. It’s then that Louis realizes they’re both scared.

-

Or Louis sleeps with Harry and they have more than just catching feelings to worry about.

*A/B/O au, so soft and fluffy with just a dash of angst*

Foolishly, Completely Falling by dea_liberty

"Now that he’s actually gone and done it, there seems to be no way of going back - no rinse and repeat, no ctrl+alt+del, no abort button, no help to be had. He’s fallen into a black hole and he cannot seem to find a way out. The black hole is also known as Tumblr. More specifically, it’s known as Tumblr’s Larry Stylinson tag."

OR: The one where Louis becomes a Larry shipper by accident.

Put It All On Me by LoadedGunn

 "Yeah, yeah, give it to me, that's it, spread your legs a bit, there you go."

 The camera follows Louis as he does. Maybe if the modelling thing doesn't work out, he could try the porn industry. Then again, he's a bit too stocky to be twinky and a bit too twinky to be anything else. He likes that about himself, though. Well, directors and photographers like that about him. He could pull off pretty and edgy, could do GQ in the morning and a perfume commercial in the afternoon. Right now he thinks he could pull off anything, because it's Harry fucking Styles directing him.

Or, a Top Model AU where Louis is accidentally there to make friends, not become Britain's Next Top Model. (Also Zayn is the supermodel host.)

Promises We Made by thekindofworld

Its been five years since Harry and Louis broke up; they were seventeen and nineteen and it was messy to say the least. Cue Louis, who is worked off his feet making clothes for celebrities, Harry dropping his debut album, Niall who likes to avoid his insecurities by dragging Louis on Holiday, Zayn and Perrie as Louis' right hand stylists, and Liam who wishes Harry would just tell him about his ex-boyfriends before he contacts them about working for him.

Its either going to be a disaster, or the perfect timing they've all been waiting for.

*I’ve been very into fashion au lately*

but me, i’m not a gamble by orphan_account

A Posh & Becks AU in which Harry is a star on the stage and Louis is a star on the pitch, but they're both inexplicably terrible at articulating their feelings. In the end, it only takes a season's worth of failed matchmaking schemes, platonic dinner dates, road trip holidays, and one very convenient David Beckham cameo for them to figure it all out. And if Niall knew all along? Well, he at least has the decency not to be too smug about it.

Boys Fall From the Sky by fookinloosah

Superheroes. America is full of them — complete with masks, nauseating pseudonyms, and neon spandex suits. There’s none of that nonsense in Britain, thank you very much…until Harry Styles’ X Factor audition takes an unexpected turn, and Britain’s first hero is born.  

Also featuring Louis as a man of many masks, Zayn the rebel comic artist, Liam as Britain’s counter-attack to Justin Bieber, and Niall the trusty guitarist.

*I adore this fic, one my all time favorites*

The Last Something That Anything by jaded25

"You know my heart - so tell me honestly, did you ever really want this? So I’ll sing this song for every word that comes out wrong But I’ll be okay – is that what you want me to say?"

In the end, it's neither the fame or the pressure, nor Management or the constant hiding and denying that tears them apart. Or maybe it's a sum of all  and so much more on top. In the end, it's Harry.

When Harry leaves the band - leaves Louis - to pursue his dreams of a solo career, he breaks much more  than just One Direction. It's a gamble and a new start for each of the boys but while Harry walked away smiling, finally having got everything he apparently dreamt of, Louis is left to pick the pieces up.

Some hearts don't break even, some are simply shattered. So can you really learn to un-love someone?

*So deliciously angsty*

no pressure, no diamonds by karamelised

A life of crime means there is no nine to five, no white picket fence and definitely no happily ever after. In a life where lying gets you everywhere and stealing things becomes a sport, there is no place for romantic endings. Louis knows this, and so does Harry. Problem is, they're both wrong.

or

Louis is a thief, Harry a grifter. They are thrown together for a huge diamond heist in Paris, where their past soon catches up to them.

Blood Right by Evina1234

“Is that-him?” someone next to Louis asks. “Who else would dress in red if not for him today?” Beside Louis, Lady Camellia had her eyes locked on the one in red garbs, as same as many around them. Clearly this must be intended, or why dress in such a way today at first place? “My... He looks dashing." the first one licks her lips, eyes darkening in a laced lust. "Who would've known? Thought he'd be in chains, stuck in a dark dungeon." The other scoffs. “Have you been under a rock? He's the most privileged Lycan alive. The King's ward, some go so far as to call him his consort. It’s all hushed, but I have my sources.” she reveals like a dirty secret. In a world where the Vampires have taken over, Humans are just pawns in blood farms, Warlocks are extinct while the King has Lycans under his thumb - eliminating the threat of the lethal bite. The world is falling apart. Louis, nephew to the malistic Vampire King, lives away from it all in blessed ignorance until he gets dragged into the chessboard that traps him in front of a green eyed Prince who is bound to a miserable fate. Or where Louis wants to save Harold, the Prince of Lycans, when Louis' allies want him DEAD 

*super intense, vampire au with political intrigue mixed in*

the one that leads me on through by colourexplosion

Louis was certain that he was done with his tenuous connection with fellow skater, Harry Styles. But then, you know, the universe throws a wrench in all that when Simon takes Harry on for the next season.

Or, an AU in which the members of one direction are actually figure skaters.

Disclaimer: The fanfiction above were not written by me for I am not nearly as creative. However, I am an avid reader and movie buff so these are some of my favorite fanfiction within the fandom. I politely ask that you read the tags attached the fanfiction beforehand so that you know what you are getting yourself into, there may be crossovers. If you don’t like it then don’t read it. In addition, I ask that there be no bashing, the fics are based on my preferences and what I like. Lastly, if there are any specific genre or fandom of fics you want me to get into let me know through my ask box.  

[hexalianrebel-blackfeathers]

No Flash Photography

Panda's Notes: @rosileeduckie IT'S DONE!! >w< This story was inspired by Ro's story "Pics or It Didn't Happen, Bro", which is an awesome little story that I love going back to. I couldn't help dying for a sequel, and I somehow got their blessing to make an unofficial one of my own. >w<

Find it/both on AO3!

Iida fiddled a bit anxiously with his phone, just trying to decide if he was willing to take the risk. To throw himself back into the proverbial lion’s den just for…what? Nothing really.

Nothing material, at least.

His phone buzzed against his palm, making him flinch and nearly drop it. Of course, it was another in a long list of messages in the group chat egging each other on. He rolled his eyes before skimming over—

Wait.

Sero: Look, I know we’ve all been saying it as a joke, but I’m stepping up.

Sero: Class Rep, since this is your fault, I dare you to “win” another #ticklefightwithBakugou. Pics or it didn’t happen, right guys?

There was a new onslaught of quick messages and shocked or laughing emojis as the class gossips alerted Iida to the callout.

Iida: You’re really calling me out, huh? What’s the catch?

Mina: Pretty sure the catch is getting the pics before Bakugou finds out you took the dare lol

“If you don’t quit texting and fucking move, I will flip this board onto you.”

Joke’s on them; he was already toeing the line there.

Iida chuckled softly, setting his phone face-down underneath his leg and looking over the chess board between them. He pushed one of his rooks forward, and he tried to resist a smile when Bakugou tsked under his breath.

“Why did you have to pick fucking chess, Four-Eyes?”

“You said you didn’t want to help with the puzzle; you could have said no.”

“Mmph…” Bakugou tapped one of his pawns on the board before shifting it forward. “So, what are those losers talking about anyway?”

It was a little interesting knowing he wasn’t included under the “losers” umbrella this time, and Iida tipped his head to look over the board.

“Oh, you know…” He hummed, unsure how much he could let on. “Same memes every week; Yaoyorozu’s scheduling study sessions for that test we have coming up—” He set down the pawn he’d chosen, his eyes searching for something of interest.

“Any new bets going around?” Bakugou snatched up the pawn, and swapped it with his bishop, smirking slightly across the table at Iida.

Iida tapped his fingers on his knee for a moment, biting his lip as he tried to keep his face in check. “Ah, well, I haven’t really been in that channel lately. Why?” He shifted another pawn forward.

Bakugou huffed and shrugged his shoulder. “No reason, I guess, just…” And the bishop took the offered pawn. “That #ticklefightwithBakugou thing is still going around, isn’t it?”

Iida let a chuckle slip, putting his hands up when Bakugou glowered at him. “You’re still thinking about that? Are you afraid someone might take advantage?” The question was emphasized by Bakugou’s bishop getting unceremoniously trampled by Iida’s knight. If looks could kill, the class rep’s head would have exploded.

“Don’t even think about putting fucking words in my mouth, four-eyes.” Bakugou practically snarled, moving one of his own knights out from its starting position. “I asked because I’m still catching shit from Pinky and Tapeface asking if you were lying or not.”

“Did you tell them?” There might have been a teasing little note to Iida’s voice as he castled his king and rook, and he yelped when Bakugou gave him a swift kick to his shin.

“If I had told them; they would have told the whole damn school, dumbass. Of course I didn’t tell them.” A pawn was inched forward as he buried his pouting mouth in his hand.

“You’re scared they’ll find out you’re all ticklish, huh?” One of Iida’s bishops was advancing.

“You shut your fucking mouth.” Bakugou grumbled, moving his rook halfway across the board as he attempted to cover the hint of red crawling up his face.

Iida couldn’t help smiling as he scooted a pawn. “That’s kind of adorable, Bakugou. What if…I got you again?” He asked softly as Bakugou was reaching for a piece.

Bakugou’s hand flinched, and the lone bishop clicked as the magnet in its base reattached to the board. He glared over at Iida again before a smirk spread across his face. He picked up the bishop again, and he set it down with a renewed confidence. “I knew you were up to something, you little shit.”

“What?!” Iida feigned offense, crushing one of Bakugou’s pawns under his rook. “I’m not up to anything. You brought it up.”

Bakugou hummed and looked over the board as Iida was putting the captured pawn to the side. “I wonder why I don’t believe you.”

Iida shrugged a bit himself, glancing away when Bakugou looked up at him again. “Perhaps you’re a bit paranoid? I can relate, actually; I remember when the year started, a few of our classmates made a similar bet targeting me.”

Bakugou snorted, remembering that couple of weeks back in May. The others had taken turns cracking bad jokes and sneaking pokes to the class rep’s sides in attempts to make him laugh. “Oh, yeah, that’s right…” He smirked as Iida was moving a knight, moving his bishop into an attacking position. “You’re pretty ticklish yourself.”

It was Iida’s turn to flinch a little, a nervous smile forcing itself across his face. A few syllables tripped and stumbled out of his mouth as he moved his knight to escape.

“And!” Bakugou piped up again. “If I remember correctly, you kind of like being tickled.” His bishop zipped forward, catching a pawn off guard.

“I—What? W-Where would you get that idea?” Iida cleared his throat when his voice came out squeakily, shifting his rook to snatch one of Bakugou’s pawns.

“Because, Speed Racer, you are a shitty liar. Plus:” Bakugou’s knight suddenly appeared and nudged Iida’s rook, and his fingers moved with a bit of wiggling flair before he snapped them sharply and pointed to himself. “My eyes are up here.”

Iida blushed brightly. He hadn’t even noticed that he’d been watching his opponent’s hands that closely. And being redirected to that smirking face and piercing stare didn’t help him at all.

Bakugou chuckled softly, watching as Iida hesitantly moved his only unseated pawn. “So, what was your little plan, huh? Did you even have one?”

“Mm, I suppose not.” He admitted, releasing a shaky breath when none of his pieces were taken this time. “It’s not exactly an easy win condition, you see.”

Bakugou hummed and gave a slight nod, picking up his Queen. “Pics or it didn’t happen, right?” He set it down with a resounding tap, pulling the now defeated knight off the board as Iida stared across the board at him. “Check. Your move, bitch.”

Iida pounced.

The chess board clattered as one of their flailing legs kicked it off of the couch, most of the magnetic pieces zipping back to the board while the others went AWOL.

“When the fuck did you get so heavy?!” Bakugou snapped, pawing at Iida’s arms as the taller boy was attempting to straddle his legs.

Iida sacrificed his arm, grabbing at one of Bakugou’s wrists while his free hand pulled his phone out of the pocket on his leg. Bakugou reached and attempted to slap at his arm, a fiercely determined smile on his face as his struggling nearly pushed Iida over.

Iida couldn’t resist the giggles that were slipping out of him, and he nearly lost his balance when Bakugou’s free hand suddenly attacked his side with scribbling nails. But his camera was open, and he tightened his grip on Bakugou’s wrist as he quickly looked for an opening while keeping his phone out of his victim’s reach.

And he spotted it. He held his phone up over Bakugou’s face, and when he tried to snatch it, Iida released the wrist he’d captured in favor of shoving that hand into Bakugou’s exposed armpit.

That previously smug face was caught in full view of the camera as is shifted instantly from shock to splitting open with a loud laugh.

“Y-You fucker!” He barked out, both of his hands retreating to press against his ribcage as he started to writhe a bit. His feet flailed and pushed against the couch behind Iida, a hint of red quickly filling his cheeks as a snort broke out of his chest. He immediately covered his face when the sound escaped, unable to stop the two others that followed it as his free hand tried to slap Iida’s phone again. “Fuck off, four-eyes!” He barely squeaked out through helpless giggles.

Iida’s face lit up as he finally stopped recording, taking a victory lap of sorts by giving a few more teasing scribbles as he navigated his phone with one hand. Bakugou struggled and clutched at Iida’s arm, and the class rep nearly buckled when those nails dug ticklishly into his elbow.

“Ha!” Iida suddenly exclaimed, laughing a bit himself. “I got it!” He grinned playfully down at Bakugou as the group chat came to life from his universal tag.

Sero: HOLY SHIT MAN I WAS KIDDING

Mina: LOL A true king!

Ochacco: He’s so cute!!

The comments went on like that and spurred a bout of conversation in that channel, several of their classmates following Mina’s lead and spamming the video with crown reactions. Half of the ones in attendance were also tagging Bakugou for confirmation, as if this weren’t literally happening right now.

Iida giggled softly, letting his fingers still and pulling his hand back. He turned his phone to give Bakugou a glance. “You’re trending, Katsuki.”

Bakugou panted softly, but his eyes fell on the screen within a second. “I’m always trending, fuckface.” He scoffed, crossing his arms and shrugging.

Iida shook his head and chuckled, scrolling back to play the video back for himself: the way Bakugou broke so quickly from that one spot; pulled his hands in tight and just laughed; The way he smiled and just succumbed to—

Wait a second.

“You…” Iida murmured, his eyes widening slightly as he realized he was still straddling his former victim. “You let me win.”

“Hm?” Bakugou hummed, resting his head on his hand as he propped it on his elbow. “What do you mean~?”

Iida’s face fell into a pout at that playful tone. “Why did you… Why would you?”

“Hm…” Bakugou sighed and hummed, scratching casually at his face and running his free hand through his hair. “Why would I let you win…? Why would I basically throw a bet to let you look good?”

Iida crossed his arms, scooting back slightly as Bakugou moved to sit up.

“Well, I don’t know.” Bakugou sighed with a shrug. “Oh, wait.”

He suddenly lunged forward, and Iida only noticed his phone being snatched from his hand before he was being manhandled. The pair of them wrestled; okay, Iida tried to wrestle, but Bakugou managed to get behind him and yank him back against his chest.

“W-What are you doing?!” Iida cried, attempting to flail as Bakugou’s free arm wrapped across his chest. A squeal jumped out of his mouth as fingers scribbled softly at his ribs.

“Take a wild guess, four-eyes.” Bakugou smirked, wrapping his legs loosely around Iida’s waist before holding up the stolen phone and tapping the screen a few times to start a video call. “Anyone who’s not a fucking coward better get on call right the fuck now.”

“Wait, that’s not fai—!” Iida shrieked as both of their faces appeared in a small window, getting cut off by his own loud giggles when Bakugou started to tickle him again.

The text chat lit up again with shocked comments and laughter before several small windows popped up in the call, with Sero and Ashido, of course, being the loudest.

“This is your king, huh?!” Bakugou asked teasingly, skittering his fingers up and down Iida’s ribs and toward his stomach and smirking broadly at his captive’s writhing. “This giggly, string-bean bitch?!”

“Don’t let him win, Iida!” Ashido laughed, waving at her webcam.

“Pfft, rest in peace, class rep!” Kaminari taunted, and Kirishima covered his mouth with his textbook beside him.

“This is why I don’t play the hashtag games with you guys!” Midoriya insisted, trying not to laugh. “Kacchan’s mean!”

Bakugou chuckled as he watched the text conversations go on beneath the excited chatter on the video call, sneaking his hand up to scribble under Iida’s chin.

“You losers better believe I’m fucking mean.” He growled, grinning wider. “You want a tickle fight; I’ll bring you a fucking war.”

He moved his hand up quickly, pulling Iida’s head close so he could press a loud raspberry against the side of his neck. The class rep’s shriek was parroted by a couple of the girls squealing excitedly along with taunts and jabs from all of them.

“B-Bakugou, please!” Iida whined, trying to paw at Bakugou’s hand as he giggled and laughed.

“Which one of them dies next?”

“What?! I-I—No!” He wailed as Bakugou blew another raspberry on his neck.

“Pick one of them, or I will end this call and find your kill spot.”

There was a chorus of chatter as cameras quickly shut off, but their friends’ voices still cheered them both on. Bakugou’s fingers were attempting to worm under Iida’s arm, and he curled in tight as he laughed a bit louder.

“Tick-tock, bitch~” Bakugou purred, leaning into his neck again.

“Sero! I pick Sero!” Iida cried out, his face running red as he felt Bakugou’s lips pressing gently before pulling away.

“Oh, my gods, you narc!” Sero laughed, and most of the others started to tease him too.

“You heard him, Tapeface. You’d better be ready.” Bakugou growled playfully, curling his fingers into a claw and digging them into Iida’s back to get a good shriek before finally cutting the video call.

Iida leaned heavily against Bakugou’s shoulder, lost in a haze of giggles as the blonde gave him a few more teasing scribbles. Turnabout is fair play, after all. He recognized the sound of his phone’s camera clicking before Bakugou finally gave him a push and slipped out from under him.

“I think #ticklefightwithBakugou is going to need its own channel soon.” Bakugou chuckled, tossing Iida’s phone onto his stomach after another moment.

Iida flinched a bit at the impact, only making a move to catch it when it felt like it would fall. As he finally caught his breath, he looked at the screen. Four new photos: all of them selfies of the pair of them with Bakugou mugging and Iida laughing himself silly; and a fifth one: Bakugou planting a kiss on Iida’s cheek while the boy’s glasses were skewed off of his face.

“Well, four-eyes,” Bakugou called with a sneer, having already made his way halfway to the stairs. “You coming or what?”

Iida blushed again and swallowed the lump in his throat, fixing his glasses before pocketing his phone. “You know what, why not?” He smiled back, hopping up to follow.

It wasn’t until he shook a little magnetic rook from his slipper on the third landing that he remembered the mess they’d left. Bakugou just laughed at him when he suggested they go back.